Voice of Truth by Ginny_W
Chapter Notes: This is a response to the HP Chapter Challenge made by Southern_witch_69 over at her Yahoo! Group: Potter Place and at The Petulant Poetess.
Disclaimer: I own nothing that you see here. All characters belong to the wonderful and talented Ms. J K Rowling.
Thanks to my wonderful beta, who wished to remain anonymous.
A/N: Two more chapters after this one. Thank so much for reading and reviewing!
And the worst quote of the lot -- HBP quote (Chapter 13): There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: Everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a yell.
For just over a year, Hermione had been meeting with Snape whenever possible and trying to help him. Her biggest regret was that she couldn’t spend more time working on the project, as her own job interfered. Being a Curse-Breaker at St. Mungo’s meant that she spent more hours than most working. She wasn’t an actual Healer, but she was the consultant that the Healers called upon when they were dealing with an obscure or unusual case.
This was the reason that she was so useful in analyzing the data regarding the curse that had infected Albus Dumbledore.
She had a roll of parchment in her lap and three books open and spread on the floor. Her fingers were blackened with ink, and her quill lay somewhere on the floor. Looking up, she caught him gazing at her from the armchair. His black eyes were focused intently, catching Hermione by surprise. “What?” she asked.
He seemed to ponder his words before he spoke. “You have spent a great deal of time and effort on this. It was not what I had expected.”
Hermione recognized the words for what they were. “You’re welcome. I think that everyone needs someone in their corner.”
This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as she instantly saw anger flare behind his eyes. “I’m not a ruddy house-elf,” he snapped.
After months of getting to know him, Hermione knew how best to deal with his anger. He was a prideful man that didn’t want to be looked upon as a charity case. “I never said that you were,” she snipped back. “I happen to trust you and believe in you… That is the reason that I’m doing this. I gave up championing for house-elves a long time ago.”
Disbelief shadowed his face, though she was surprised when another string of scathing remarks didn’t leave his lips. Most often when they quarreled, it would end with him storming out. Hermione rarely got the last word. This caused her to pause and wonder what he was really upset about, and it came to her very quickly.
Pity.
Severus Snape did not want to be pitied. He was not a cause. Hermione didn’t feel sorry for him. She admired him. His strength of will and character were things to respect.
Tossing her parchment haphazardly, she pulled herself up from the floor and walked over to where he was still sitting. Hermione brought her hand up to his face, unsurprised when he flinched at her touch. Stilling herself for the nasty remarks that were sure to come, she forged on, brushing her fingers along his jaw and cupping his cheek. When no caustic retorts came, she felt emboldened and leaned down to kiss his pale, thin lips.
Snape remained still, and only when Hermione pulled away, did he seem to respond. She pulled back, a mixture of shame and embarrassment, but she forced herself to say the next words. “I could never pity you,” she whispered.
Standing upright, she hastily made her way towards to bedroom, certain that he could find his own way out of her flat. She was surprised when he appeared in her doorway only a few minutes later. “I’m so”” she started to say, but she wasn’t able to get the words out, as he quickly made his way to her, his lips descending onto hers.
The kiss was more than the simple, tentative buss that she had given him. Behind it, there was obvious passion. He gently bit her lower lip, causing her to gasp and part her lips, and he began exploring and tasting her mouth.
I pause in my story and look at Ginny, who now has silly grin on her face. We are now at her home. Well, hers and Harry’s. The hour was growing late, and I’d known that the sooner I was able to get to their house, the sooner I’d be able to look for Dumbledore’s memories. Ron is in the other room talking to Harry. Both boys”sorry, I still can’t think of them as men”are still upset with me, but they aren’t shouting. I had been quite surprised with the fact that Ron hadn’t actually shouted at all. Typically, he’d let his feelings be known vocally. In this case, however, I think that he realizes that someone needed to help calm Harry.
“Do you really love him?” Ginny asks.
I think that my smile answers her question, but I still say the words. “Yes, I do.”
“I’m happy for you, I think,” she replies.
“Erm… thanks.”
“Well, that didn’t come out right. I mean that I’m glad that you’re happy. I’m surprised at who it is, and despite the fact that I’m defending you, I really am upset that you didn’t tell any of us about this before,” she chides. “We all knew that you were looking into Snape’s case, and when you showed your files to Harry last week, I knew that you were serious.” Ginny pauses to study the carpeting. “I caught a glimpse of the report that you gave him. I think that you should know that Harry didn’t show anyone. He wasn’t trying to betray you,” she adds quickly. “Harry was just worried. I mean, I read some of the report, and yes… it could refute Harry’s allegations. However, there was nothing substantial that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Snape was innocent either. If there is more evidence among those gadgets, why didn’t you put that in there?”
“I had hoped that Harry would see what Dumbledore was saying in his journal. I was hoping that he’d ask me questions! I knew that there was a chance that he’d be upset with me and ignore everything that I’d written. No matter how much I want to trust him, I was afraid that if I told Harry about the Pensieve memories, then he’d make sure that they no longer existed,” I admit.
“You really think that little of me?” comes Harry’s voice from the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “But look at what you did with the files I’d spent the last three years working on. You promised me that you’d show it to others. You told me that everyone was talking about it! What did you do with it, burn it?”
Harry has the grace to look abashed. “You’re right. I didn’t show anyone. I didn’t want anyone to think that there was a chance of the man’s innocence.” Before I can interject, he goes on. “Also, I was worried that if anyone saw that you’d done all of that work that they might put together the same pieces that I did… that you knew where he was. You do realize that harboring a criminal is an offense worthy of Azkaban, do you not?”
“I never knew where he was living,” I counter.
He shoots me a disbelieving glance.
“We both knew that if I knew where he was hiding that the information could be detrimental to me. You could get the information by Legilimency or Veritaserum. I’m not an Occlumens, Harry. We both felt that it was safer this way.”
“Fine,” he concedes. “But he touched the files. You see him. You can get in contact with him. At any time, you could’ve contacted me or any other Auror, and we could’ve arrested him.”
“So, now you’re telling me that I’m a criminal, Harry? How is this case any different than Sirius’? How many people knew where Sirius was after he escaped from Azkaban? How many Aurors knew where to find him and said nothing?” I challenge.
“Sirius was innocent!”
“So is Severus,” I state simply.
“I won’t believe that until I see these memories that you’ve been going on about, Hermione.”
“Then give me leave to go into your study, and I’ll find it for you!” Ginny places a reassuring hand on my shoulder in an obvious attempt to calm me while I notice that Ron is over doing the same for Harry.
“We’re going to wait until morning,” Harry announces.
“What?”
“I’ve contacted Kingsley. He will be here in the morning with a few other Aurors. You can help us find the memories then.”
“Why do we have to wait? You’ve locked Severus up, and now, you’re going to force him to stay in that wretched prison overnight just so we can wait for more people to arrive?”
“Hermione,” Harry warns. He blows out an exasperated breath. “Trust me on this. If there are more people here, then if there really are memories to be found, it is less likely to be disputed that you planted them or that I tampered with them. Besides, it’s not like there are still dementors in Azkaban. It’s not as horrid as it used to be.”
Resigned, I slump my shoulders and collapse back into the settee. “Fine. You’re right,” I mumble. “We all stay in here, then,” I say more firmly.
Harry looks at both Ron and Ginny, and after a few moments of thought, he replies, “Agreed.”
Ron, Ginny, and Harry all take seats: Ron, sitting with his long legs stretched out in front of him on the floor in front of the fire, Harry in an armchair, and Ginny next to me.
The uncomfortable silence between us stretches out, and eventually both Weasley’s fall asleep. I look to Harry, who is staring into the fire. It’s obvious that he’s struggling with his emotions now. Maybe my comment comparing the false accusations against Sirius and my assertions about Severus, have struck a chord. Either that or he’s just horribly disappointed in me. “Harry,” I say to get his attention. “How did you find him?”
He doesn’t move his gaze from the fire. “I guessed that he had handled the documents. I used a specialized spell that picks up magical traces and then locates the person with those specific traces,” he admits.
“That borders on Dark magic, Harry,” I tell him.
After several long minutes, I hear his soft reply, “I know.”
It occurs to me to what lengths Harry will go. I see, yet again, how much his life has been affected by the actions of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. When I can think of nothing to say to ease his pain or my own, I close my eyes and think about what is going through Severus’ mind now. My last thought before I slip into a restless sleep is that I hope that he doesn’t think that after all this time I have finally betrayed him.
Sometime later, a quick succession of events has caused me to stir.
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: Everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a yell.
“Bloody hell!” I hear someone say.
My eyes are still adjusting to the daylight, but I notice three figures have made their way into the room and were talking rather loudly. It’s obvious that Tonks had stepped on Ron’s sleeping form, as she was now profusely apologizing to him.
Harry all but jumps up as I rub my eyes.
“Good morning,” comes the rich baritone of Kingsley Shacklebolt. “I understand that we’re here to find a memory that once belonged to Dumbledore.”