Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Dish Served Cold	By : Barrie Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 57577 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Vindictive
- 2-Trapped
- 3-Reaction
- 4-Announcements
- 5-Reactions
- 6-Regrets
- 7-Family
- 8-Contention
- 9-Lessons
- 10-Jitters
- 11-Preparations
- 12-Wedding
- 13-Feast
- 14-Confusion
- 15-Consummation
- 16-Adjustments
- 17-Tremors
- 18-Intuition
- 19-Pirouette
- 20-Shock
- 21-Weddings
- 22-Surprises
- 23-Summons
- 24-Plotting
- 25-Complications
- 26-Force
- 27-Hardship
- 28-Breathe
- 29-Inhale
- 30-Exhale
- 31-Explosion
- 32-Headaches
- 33-Confessions
- 34-Doubtd
- 35-Slytherins
- 36-Gryffindors
- 37-Tea
- 38-Curses
- 39-Threats
- 40-Wolf
- 41-Visions
- 42-Entrances
- 43-Marbles
- 44-Waiting
- 45-Fathers
- 46-Pain
- 47-Aftermath
- 48-Bait
- 49-Ch. 49 - Storms
- 48
- 49
A/N - I apologize for the long delay on this story, I got two novels published and began making actual money as a writer. :) I will, however, finish this story come hell or high water. Great thanks to my Beta, Mary A, without whom this would have been much harder to read.

Chapter 49 – Storms

            It was raining heavily outside Harry’s window. This being Scotland, that wasn’t so very unusual, but it was May and the rains should have eased by now. He could hear Moira bustling about their chambers. Despite house-elves and magic, she seemed incapable of not dusting, making beds, and tidying everything by hand. He found the sound soothing, it sounded like home for some reason and he continued to absently pet Hedwig as he watched the rain and thought.

            Voldemort, Snape had informed him, was planning to lure him out of Hogwarts with the promise of a powerful magical weapon capable of destroying the dark wizard. Harry was to take this bait, but only after Snape and the Order had completed their preparations.

            What exactly they were doing, he wasn’t certain. Snape had been somewhat vague, and Mrs. Dumbledore had merely started muttering about stupid men and their fears of death and how ridiculous the whole thing was.

            He found that he had to agree with her.

            He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the compulsion to rule the world. What would you do once you had conquered everything? Harry had watched Dumbledore, seen how much work just being Headmaster could be, why would you want the burden of ruler ship of a whole planet? What was the point?

            He supposed that he would never truly understand, but maybe, that was a good thing.

            Still, he hoped that the Order would do whatever they needed to quickly. There were a lot of lives depending on them right now, and they were running out of time.

            Sabine looked up from the desk and met her old friend’s eyes with a feeling of profound sorrow. After all these years, the curse was broken and Sarit was free. Yet, everything was still so different now, too much had passed between them and she knew, even with the curse broken, that it was too late for them.

            Her eyes passed to young Mr. Weasley, and she took a breath. It was not, however, too late for the rest of them. She needed to make the most of what she had been left by her husband.

            “There is nothing left for me to See, I don’t know the future or how to stop what is happening,” Sarit admitted to her, and Sabine knew how bitterly hard that admission was.

            “Then we will need to ask another Seer,” Sabine replied, and Sarit bristled while the room dissolved into arguments and nervous chatter.

            “There is no other!” Sarit barked with more bitterness than Sabine had expected.

            “Actually, there is.” Her cool tones cut across the babbling and chatter, and several sets of eyes turned towards her.

            Severus had gone to the Headmaster’s office very reluctantly, as his daughter was already acting the tyrant, keeping him enthralled to her every whim. Upon entering the room, he abruptly stopped and frowned, seeing the crowd of family members scattered about on chairs and settees. His initial suspicion gave way to surprise as he noticed the palpable absence of the misery that had once shrouded them all. Bill Weasley, his red hair like a beacon in a room filled with dark-headed Snapes and Yidoni, stood off to one side looking especially smug.

            “Ah,” Severus murmured. “Broke the curse, did you, Bill? Took you a bit long, don’t you think?” He allowed the slight sneer to get the boy’s dander up and then flashed him a small smile.

            “And yet to be thanked by anyone,” Bill retorted with a roll of his eyes. Snape shrugged and let his eyes rest on his grandmother Snape.

            “You summoned me?” he asked with a sharply raised eyebrow and a sense of foreboding.

            “We need your Seer abilities, Severus,” she answered, and Sarit’s hiss of indrawn breath was sharply audible. He looked at her and saw fury writ large across her face.

            This was going to be an interesting conversation. He only hoped that they would all survive it.

            Hermione woke to see the Bloody Baron staring down into the bassinet beside her bed. There was a look on his face of wistful longing that startled her. It occurred to her suddenly that she really knew nothing about him.

            “Did you ever have children of your own?” she asked him, and he whirled to face her, an expression of bleak despair suddenly on his face.

            “No.” It was nearly a whisper and said with such pain that Hermione regretted the question immediately.

            “I’m sorry…” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure what exactly she was sorry for, she just knew somehow that she had caused him considerable pain.

            “I don’t deserve your compassion,” he answered suddenly. “I don’t deserve it at all.” Then he was gone, winking out as though he had never existed.

            Hermione was left to gape after him in surprise. With a frown, she decided that she had just about had it with mysteries around her and with some discomfort, rose from her bed. Hermione didn’t have a reputation as a know-it-all for nothing; she was determined to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

            After all, where there was a library, there was a way.

            Harry watched his wife with worried eyes. Since the battle, she had been stronger and less grief stricken than she had been previously, which relieved him no end. But still, she was not quite yet back to being the girl he had fallen in love with.

            For one thing, she hadn’t sworn in nearly a week. Not even a simple “Bugger” had escaped her lips. It was both weird and unnerving. He had thought about trying to get her mad enough to swear at him, but then decided that if he was going to die, it had better be because he was saving the world from Voldemort.

            “Harry?” her voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up at her from his usual perch on the window ledge.

            “Hm?” he cocked his head and studied her through his mother’s clear green eyes.

            “I’m sorry I have been such a burden on you lately,” she began, and he waved off her words with a small smile.

            “Moira, I love you. I plan on spending the rest of my life with you. Wherever you are right now, I can sit here with you until you are ready to get up again, okay?” he informed her. Her eyes suspiciously wet, she turned on her heel and stomped off.

            “Bloody lunatic, that’s what you are, you know!” she snapped at him, and he found himself grinning broadly at the insult.

            “Yes, dear,” he called after her, still grinning.

            Severus watched the rest of the Order as they pored over the maps, planning their positions, and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was doing in a room with so many damned Gryffindors.

            Bravery was all very well, but a little strategic planning wouldn’t go amiss.

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” his grandmother cut into the conversation. “He’ll be stationing his forces amongst the houses, waiting for something exactly like that. You need to think about where your enemy will most likely be before deciding on your own approach.” Her tone was that of a teacher explaining a simple lesson to very young children, and Snape watched a few winces.

            “Yes, ma’am,” Tonks said and then turned bright eyes on the old woman. “Any suggestions?”

            “Godric’s Hollow has extensive tunnels underneath it that date from the time of the Burnings. Access can be gained to them. If we put in hatches all along the most likely routes, you can be spread throughout the town, invisible, but able to pop up anywhere you need to. If we booby-trap other routes, we can also direct Tom’s forces to go exactly where we want them. We funnel them to the place of our choosing and then annihilate them.”

            The room fell silent as the Order stared at her in wonderment.

            “I’m damn glad you’re on our side, ma’am,” Shacklebolt breathed out, and the rest of them nodded.

            Snape watched his rather formidable grandmother with a feeling of pride as unexpected as it was unwelcome. He caught himself wondering if he should name the second child after her and clamped his jaw down hard.

            He did not like this horrible woman, he didn’t!

            Even in the privacy of his own mind, the thought seemed rather anemic and petulant.

            Bill Weasley was wondering what he had gotten himself into. Yet again. It seemed unfair that no matter how carefully he’d warned himself not to get involved in one of Dumbledore’s inevitably dangerous schemes, he still ended up doing exactly as he was told. It was bad enough when it was the Headmaster moving him across the chessboard as a pawn, but the old lady with her sharp, penetrating stare was a hundred times worse.

            “So, Mr. Weasley, once the first layer is dispatched, it will be your turn to go to work. Once you have penetrated the second layer, you are to fall back and allow the next team to get in and do their job. Any questions?” She spoke in a manner that indicated those hypothetical questions had damn well better be good ones, if he was going to be annoying her with them. He shook his head.

            “No, Ma’am, no questions.” He was pretty sure that Sarit was, by far, the more intimidating woman. Still, there was something about Sabine Dumbledore that made his spine stiffen, his shoulders go back, and his whole attitude shift from jocular to deadly serious.

            “Very good, Mr. Weasley, you may go.”

            He spun about on his heel and marched out.

            “I must say that Albus trained them all rather well,” Mrs. Dumbledore murmured, and Harry noted the rather grimly amused look on her face. “A trifle more initiative wouldn’t be amiss though.”

            “In what way?” he asked, rather curious.

            “How much of his grand plan did he ever tell you about?” she asked him suddenly, turning to look at him. When her attention was focused on him, he squirmed a bit under the intense scrutiny of her gaze.

            “Damn near nothing,” he admitted, and she nodded.

            “If you keep all the secrets, then you cannot afford to allow others to move independently, because their very ignorance will compel them to error,” she explained.

            Harry leaned back in the chair and thought for a moment. Even with her hair graying and the fine lines around her face, Sabine Dumbledore was not bowed by her age. She wore it with strength and dignity, much as her husband did. She probably had more secrets in her brain than he could even imagine, had done things, and seen things, he had no idea of.

            “So, if he had shared more information with us, we might have been able to act more intelligently?” he murmured after a long moment of thought.

            “Yes, but in giving you those secrets he would have endangered the plan itself. The more people who know a plan, the more likely the enemy will find out about it.” She was watching him as he thought through her words, and he wondered what she saw in him.

            “You have to balance secrecy against the ability of your troops to improvise,” he concluded, and she nodded.

            “You must also have at least one trusted person to whom you can divulge the plan, just in case you yourself are killed.” It was a chilling thought, making sure you planned for every contingency, including your own death.

            He looked around the Headmaster’s office with a frown. Technically, McGonagall was acting headmistress at the moment, but she hadn’t wanted to turf Dumbledore’s “widow” out of her home, so the office and the chambers that were attached to them remained in Mrs. Dumbledore’s possession.

            Eventually, though, a new Headmaster or Headmistress would be chosen, and these rooms would go to that person, at least until Dumbledore returned.

            “Who is your trusted person?” Harry asked next.

            “Well, young man, as the one about to be thrust out onto the pointy end of the stick, I rather think it’s going to have to be you.” There was both grim purpose and deep compassion in her eyes, and Harry swallowed hard.

            “Thank you?” he assayed, and she gave a sharp bark of laughter.

            “You’re right to be nervous, Mr. Potter, holding secrets is a dangerous and risky business. However, considering that Tom is already after your head, it will actually be less dangerous for you if you know more.” She steepled her fingers and peered at him with an air of someone examining a laboratory specimen she wasn’t quite sure how to classify.

            “So, why didn’t the Headmaster tell me more?” Harry asked the obvious question.

            “Because Albus doesn’t play the game as well as I do, his ability to calculate the risk isn’t as good as mine,” she informed him with a matter of fact air. She wasn’t bragging, he realized, she was explaining. “He cares about you and wants you to be happy. I just want you to survive. You can arrange your own happiness when this is all over, until then, you need every weapon available to you, no matter how painful those weapons may be.”

            He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had occurred to him long ago that Dumbledore was protecting him from something. That it was something that might hurt him was a new thought, though.

            “What didn’t he tell me?” He was surprised how steady his own voice was; it sounded mature, calm, and controlled. Mrs. Dumbledore nodded at him in approval.

            “You’ve always been connected to Voldemort, you knew that,” she began, and he nodded in confirmation. That much had been obvious for years. “You were connected, however, in two different ways. The first was through your mother’s sacrifice.” He winced a bit, and she paused to let him regain his composure.

            “Albus has a book of ancient family protection charms, one was the charm that your mother used to shield you from the killing curse. It literally took the magic he thrust at you and, by passing it through her negated its greatest force and kept you safe. The curse, however, had been cast, it had to go somewhere, and so it rebounded onto Voldemort. The curse, however muted, though, was still a piece of Voldemort, and that was lodged inside of you. It sits there, next to your heart, hating you and wanting your death.” Harry shivered. Her words were grim and filled with a quiet sorrow that made him suddenly afraid. “As long as that piece of Voldemort remains inside of you, he can regenerate himself again and again as many times as necessary.”

            “Are you saying that I am what lets him keep living?” Harry breathed out in horror.

            “Not precisely, he has layered himself in anti-death charms, in shields of magical protection, and cast spells that sustain him by draining the energy of those around him to keep him alive. Those layers must be penetrated in order to destroy him. But to keep him from returning, that piece of him inside of you must be destroyed.”

            Harry leaned back and stared at her for a long moment.

            “I’m ready to die, if it will stop him,” Harry informed her with a strange feeling of calm.

            “That is very noble and quite Gryffindor of you,” she retorted tartly. “But I’d rather just use that Rivening ceremony and remove it without killing you, if you think you can bear to pass up a chance at martyrdom!”

            He grinned at her suddenly, feeling deeply relieved.

            “I think I could bear it, Ma’am, just this once,” he assured her, and she smiled at him.

            “You sure you wouldn’t rather be a Slytherin, boy, I’m sure it could be arranged,” she teased, and he laughed out loud.

            “Thank you kindly, ma’am, but I’m fine where I am.”

            “Well, should you ever change your mind,” she offered, and he shook his head, realizing that despite the sharp tones and cutting remarks, Sabine Dumbledore was actually a really good person.

            It occurred to him, though, that she would not appreciate being told that, so he bit back the words and simply nodded.

            “So, what do we need to do next, ma’am?” he asked, and she gave him a sphinx-like look of deep satisfaction.

            “Well, this is where the fun starts, young man,” she chuckled.

            Over the next hour, he developed a deep respect for both age and treachery.
- 48
- 49
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Dish Served Cold