Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine, I’m just exploring in JKR’s world.
Silver slivers of moonlight trickled through the clouds, casting a ghostly hue on the world below. The ashen marble headstones glowed in the darkness, creating an unearthly circle around the assembly of Death Eaters, blocking their actions from the rest of the world. At the center of it all Hermione knelt quietly, attempting to take a cleansing breath as she faced her old Potions master. She was determined to hold herself steady as Snape scrutinized her battered form, a familiar sneer playing across his face. His expression was an odd combination of boredom and revulsion, as though he felt above whatever task lie before him.
"I should have known you two would be foolish enough to end up in this situation," Snape finally drawled in a quiet, condescending tone. "I naturally expected Weasley capable of such senselessness. He's certainly proven himself to be dim-witted on previous occasions."
Hermione’s jaw dropped, her eyes flashing to find Ron’s gaze, her hands instinctively tugging at her bonds to bring him comfort or leap to his defense. She turned an indignant stare in Snape’s direction, almost admonishing him for such base cruelty, tearing someone down that had already hit rock bottom. The look she received in response made her blood freeze as Snape stooped slightly, a cold smirk on his face.
"I'd hoped for more from you, Ms. Granger," he whispered in a biting tone, his eyes scraping across her scarred face, "that you might have more common sense than to foolishly sacrifice yourself in the name of love." He spat the last word, causing Hermione to visibly flinch. "How very… disappointing."
Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as he pulled away, his words replaying cruelly in her mind. The emotions she felt for Ron were raw and new, and somehow his scornful remarks had cut her deeply, opening some unknown wound in the middle of her heart. He'd spoken of her feelings as though they were cheap, even immature and reckless. It wasn't foolish to stay together, she argued with herself, pressing her weight into Ron, desperately searching for some kind of reassurance.
Ron turned his head slightly as she moved against him, resting his chin tenderly against her hair, the action almost defiant in the face of Snape's harsh words. Hermione sniffed quietly, demanding the persistent burning in her eyes to subside as distant memories clouded her thoughts. Murmurs from her past were returning to haunt her, old words of spite and scorn, many spoken by the man now standing before her, trembling straight into the depths of her heart and tearing at her conviction to be strong throughout this whole ordeal. Each reawakening some silenced doubt or fear.
Then, quite unexpectedly, a different memory broke through. Words spoken in reassurance not so long ago, at a time when she’d felt similar hopelessness to this very moment. Words that still meant so much, even now, given all that had happened:
'Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world…'
McGonagall's words penetrated Hermione's heart like a faint whisper, churning up the strength she'd momentarily forgotten. It wasn’t foolish to stay with him, she told herself again, this time firmly believing it with all her being. She couldn’t have let him go on alone any more than she could have stayed behind with the others. She couldn’t have lived with herself knowing she’d let him face this by himself, and somehow, she knew he couldn’t have made it this far, helpless as she was, without her at his side. No matter what Snape thought or said, it had been common sense to follow her heart tonight; she could have done nothing else.
Snape… quite suddenly a vague feeling of growing understanding began building in Hermione’s mind. Love. Dumbledore had held love in his highest regard, seeing its magic as more powerful than any other. He never took anyone into his confidence without its presence in their hearts. So why, of all people, had he trusted Severus Snape? Hermione had never seen even an ounce of love expressed in the words and actions of the man standing before her. Just moments ago he’d scorned the very idea of love… but for Dumbledore to trust him so implicitly, without question… there had to be something there.
Slowly Hermione raised her eyes and looked at Snape. He didn't seem nearly so formidable now, no longer the ominous Potion's Professor from her youth. She noticed that his skin looked wan, his face thinner… and his eyes. Why hadn't she seen that look before? They were empty, and lifeless, like someone who felt all but forgotten. And there was pain, unexpressed, lingering just beneath the surface.
The pain one can only realize when they have truly lost everything.
Ron gave a near silent growl, his blood running cold as he glared malevolently at Snape. As if we weren't in enough trouble already, he thought irritably, ruthlessly biting his tongue to keep his angered words to himself as he watched Hermione fight back persistent tears.
"Tell me," Snape drawled, finally pulling his eyes away from Hermione's face and fixing his gaze on the other Death Eaters. "Did you simply wish to waste my time, or was there another reason you brought these two to see me?" Ron felt the men behind him bristle at Snape's words, their robes rustling with indignation. One figure sidled closer, stepping forward from the circle, the same Death Eater that had taken charge back at the Burrow, a superior growl rumbling in his throat as he began to speak.
"A waste of your time?" he spoke in a scathing tone. "You are here to follow the Dark Lord's orders, Snape. Do I need to remind you of your place?"
"My place has been well presented to me, Hawkins. You would do well to remember your own." The entire circle stirred again at Snape's response, masked faces shifting expectantly between the two men.
"I know my place," Hawkins responded greedily. "The Dark Lord left me in charge tonight..."
"A decision he will likely regret later," Snape interjected, not even flinching as Hawkins threateningly drew his wand.
"You think you know better than the Dark Lord?" he sneered, taking a step in Snape's direction.
“I know that newer recruits are prone to rash action," Snape replied, his face disinterested as he regarded Hawkin's wand, smirking as it flinched in his hand. "I shudder to think how the Dark Lord will react when you come back empty-handed."
"My work is finished," Hawkins said, gesturing angrily in Ron's direction. “The task is now passed to you.”
"I think not."
There was a comical silence following Snape's last response, the robed figures around them lost for words. Ron's breath caught in his throat, silent dread slipping down his spine as Snape’s meaning fully penetrated. He knows...
"Explain," Hawkins finally barked, his wand twitching back to Snape's pale, greasy face.
A slightly triumphant gleam momentarily flashed in Snape's eyes as a sneering smile spread across his lips. It was a familiar look; the same Ron had seem him wear on countless occasions at Hogwarts. It was as if Snape was just teaching another lesson, surrounded by his students, his voice condescending and almost scholarly as he spoke.
“You had but one task before you, boy. You simply needed to discover Potter’s hidden identity and bring him here. Just that one simple task and you’ve failed.”
"What do you mean we've not brought Potter, Snape? You haven't even performed the spell yet,” Hawkins demanded, a slight quiver in his voice giving away his rising anxiety.
"I have other ways of knowing," Snape replied in a bored tone, his eyes flicking down to gaze at Ron and Hermione once more.
Ron growled quietly and turned his face away, refusing to meet Snape’s pointed stare. Bastard, he thought angrily, shuffling his legs in annoyance. This was it. Their plan to distract the Death Eaters was now pointless, their ruse uncovered in mere minutes. Vague hopes that Harry had managed to help his family began to dwindle, raw fears reappearing insistently in their wake.
With a sigh Ron raised his eyes, casting a questioning look at Hermione as the heated banter continued above them. She looked startlingly unafraid, her brown eyes soft and searching as she stared at Snape. For a moment Ron lost himself, forcing everything else from his mind as he traced the lines of her face with his eyes, watching her short curls stir in the breeze. His heart somehow knew that these moments, the tiny snippets of time where he could just look at Hermione, were growing few. He’d taken this for granted, just being around her. Now he was wishing for just a little more time.
He smiled inside when she gave a small exasperated sigh, the same she always used when dealing with a particularly difficult test question back at Hogwarts. She slowly turned her eyes to meet his own, confirming his fears. This is it, the last piece of his rational mind whispered as the voices around his grew louder. This is the end…
Hermione watched silently as Snape and the Death Eater, Hawkins, argued over her and Ron's fate. She was searching for reassurance of any kind, some clue to confirm her suspicions. Since Dumbledore's death she'd naturally lost her conviction that Snape was on their side and just misunderstood. But at that moment, as she knelt before him, her future resting in his hands, she couldn't deny the faint glimmer of hope growing in her heart. She couldn't forget the brief look of humanity she'd seen in Snape's eyes earlier that night, the revelation that love must exist somewhere inside him nagging at her persistently. She knew that as vile and debasing as Severus Snape may seem, he was truly their only hope.
"What do you mean we've not brought Potter, Snape? You haven't even performed the spell yet," Hawkins questioned, anxious worry slowly creeping into his words.
"I have other ways of knowing," Snape replied matter-of-factly, his eyes flicking down to gaze at Ron and Hermione once more. He stared at Ron for a moment, sneering as Ron pointedly avoided his gaze. As his face moved towards Hermione, she forced herself to meet his eyes. She wasn't surprised that he'd seen the truth immediately, or that he'd told the others right off that they'd failed to find Harry. She could have even brushed off his degrading words to her and Ron as second nature to his personality, but somehow she felt there was more to it than that.
Snape clearly wasn’t enjoying this. There was no thrill behind his overt arrogance, no relief that he’d finally be rid of Harry Potter’s best friends. His anger towards them seemed genuine, perhaps annoyance that they’d put him in such a difficult position. The Death Eaters around him seemed both respectful and callous, consumed with awe and spite, as if knowing he’d killed Albus Dumbledore had gained their respect and suspicion with one single blow.
Hermione frowned, realizing what a difficult place he was now in. If she was right, if there was some hidden reason for all that had transpired at the end of the school year, then he was now faced with a huge dilemma. The last thing he’d want to do is harm and potentially murder two people from his own side, but naturally he couldn’t refuse, his own life and position as a spy hanging in the balance. She could see no way around this; he’d meant what he’d said upon their arrival: they had no idea the kind of trouble they’d gotten themselves into.
With a sad sigh she turned her eyes away, feeling Ron’s gaze upon her face. She met his stare, his blue eyes swimming with unreadable emotion. She tried to hide the truth, that her previous hopes of Snape intervening had been dashed away as quickly as they’d come, but she knew he’d seen. The slight nod of his head and a rueful half smile said it all.
“Go down the hill and Apparate to the others,” Hawkins voice slowly cut through Ron’s thoughts, his eyes still locked with Hermione’s. “Bring the rest of the prisoners to me.” With a nod one of the Death Eaters left the circle, leaving the graveyard at a flurried pace as Hawkins turned back to face Snape. “While we wait for the others to arrive, I want you to try the spell-“
“As I’ve already told you, Hawkins, performing the spell on these two would be a waste of time,” Snape interjected, his eyes flashing in annoyance.
“I won’t be satisfied until you test them,” Hawkins hissed, inching closer.
“And what of the rest? Will you have me test all of them as well?”
“If it comes to that… perhaps you won’t have to, should one your first two attempts prove successful.”
“I’m telling you, these two are not Potter!”
“Then they will make excellent practice!”
A short standoff followed their shouts, Hawkins breathing heavily in his anger, Snape standing stoic with his usual icy calm. “Test the Mudblood first,” Hawkins finally muttered, his tone dark as he inclined his head in Hermione’s direction.
Ron’s heart plummeted, his body sliding forward automatically in an attempt to shield Hermione from view. No! he thought frantically, turning his head towards Snape in desperation. You can’t! You know she’s not Harry! The thoughts swirled hysterically through his mind, pleading blindly for Snape to test him instead. He wasn’t even sure what the test would be, or what dark magic it may require, but he knew it would be too much for her. She’s been through too much tonight already; anything more will kill her…
Ron locked his helpless gaze on Snape for the briefest of moments, receiving a narrowed glare in response. Snape curled his lip, flicking his black eyes in Hermione’s direction for a moment before raising his head, considering Hawkins once more.
“The girl won’t survive the spell,” Snape said mildly, carelessly whipping his greasy locks out of his eyes. “The Dark Lord commanded we kill no one until Potter is found.”
“Well… accidents do happen.”
“No!” Ron shouted before he could stop himself, tugging wildly at his wrists. “Try the spell on me instead.” Ron’s pleas were quickly silenced with a harsh blow from Hawkins, his head reeling as he wobbled dangerously on his knees. Someone grasped the back of his hair, dragging him ruthlessly across the ground and depositing him into the waiting hold of three excited Death Eaters.
“Your turn will come soon enough,” Hawkins whispered near Ron’s ear as he released him. “Right now you can watch with the rest of us.” He flicked his wand at Ron’s face, releasing a warm, purple mist from the tip of his wand that seeped into Ron’s eyes until they burned and watered. Ron tried to shut his eyes against the stinging pain, only to find they were locked open, fixed on Hermione’s terrified face as they drug her through the cemetery toward a pair of headstones.
“Test the Mudblood first.”
Those were the last words Hermione heard before her thoughts went foggy, her mind refusing to focus on the fate that now lie before her. She could feel the eyes of the circle upon her, the protective reaction from Ron. She vaguely registered Snape saying the spell would kill her, followed by Ron’s angry shouts before they pulled him away. It was his absence that she really noticed, the sudden lack of familiar warmth at her side. She raised her eyes to search for him in the fluttering movement all around her. She found him a short distance away, his lips bleeding, his eyes locked on her face with an agonizingly pained expression.
And then they came for her, one on each arm, dragging her across the sun shriveled grass, her legs sliding uselessly behind her. Unexpectedly they flung her forward, her face scraping across the uneven ground as she skidded to a halt. She awkwardly pulled herself back to her knees, her right cheek smarting painfully from sliding across the rough dirt and rocks as she slowly raised her head to see where she’d been thrown. She gasped audibly, her eyes sparkling with tears and growing wide with alarm, her head shaking in disbelief. She held back as sob as she stared at the two gravestones before her, each adorned with the same name:
POTTER.
Author’s Note: Most humbly sorry for the exceedingly long update. Please see my profile for the little note I posted a week or so ago explaining why everything has been taking so much time. Thank you for being patient with me, and for following this story so passionately. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Special thanks again for those readers that nominated “Senses” for a Quicksilver Quill award. That Runner-Up placement is all thanks to you guys!
~Ashley
Senses by Gryffinpuff
Chapter Notes: Common sense in one view is the most uncommon sense. While it is extremely rare in possession, the recognition of it is universal. All men feel it, though few men have it.
- Henry Norman Hudson