Chapter Thirteen: Lost Before the Dawn

Hermione frowned at the clock on the wall. It was past midnight, and Ron still hadn't returned. There was a note indicating he might have a job opportunity with George, and the chess move list had disappeared. He must have sent it back to Severus. But where was he now? iProbably with Andra./i Finally, the relief had turned to resentment. It was after midnight. He should be home with her, not out with his old Quidditch buddies.

Well, two could play at that game, and it was time and gone that she should have talked to Severus. She grabbed a coat and Apparated to Diagon Alley, then walked the few blocks to the Blind Eye.

The note on the door drew her attention, and after reading it, she read it again and again. It couldn't be. There was no reason he should have left his tavern. She looked around, but could see nothing. Sighing, she walked down the street, hoping for some clue about where Severus had gone. As she walked, it began to rain, but she didn't bother doing anything about it. It fit the mood she was in. She wasn't ready to go back to her flat. She wasn't ready to sit around waiting for Ron again. And even if he was there, he'd just want her to solve all his problems. Then again, he'd left that message about the shop. Maybe he really was going to work there.

Hermione shook her head. He'd be perfect there, just as she was perfect at the Ministry of Magic, but nothing was getting better. He wasn't a Quidditch star anymore, but he still ignored her, and he still didn't value her work or her advice. He was always out with Andra. She'd tried to understand his perspective, but she was having troubles with it. It just wasn't working. They were too different. She let her shoulders slump, and ignored the rain and the scent of rain, which normally relaxed her, just made her feel more gloomy.

She found her way back to Diagon Alley. She'd finished the last step in her project on Time, but she'd found a blockage. She'd wanted to ask Severus about it, but had waited too long. Now he was gone.

She wandered past the closed and empty shops. Here, there was no rain. The magical marketplace was protected as all the owners of all the businesses went in on spells to keep patrons from discomfort. It felt wrong to her. Everything felt wrong to her. The only shops that were open were those in Knockturn Alley. She looked down, but didn't enter. Making a dark potion to save Ron's mind was one thing. Visiting Knockturn Alley was another.

Hermione turned away from Knockturn Alley and continued her wandering. She still wasn't ready to go home. She was realizing that she didn't love Ron, not the way a wife was supposed to love a husband. It was all wrong. They should never have gotten married. She understood that now. When she had cried over him, during her conversation with Harry, it had been over the loss of her friend. Marriage had ruined their friendship. That's what was wrong. She knew it now, but didn't know what to do about it. They'd never been meant to have a romantic relationship, but they'd fallen into it, maybe been pushed into it, and now they had nothing left. Ron was no longer the man who made her laugh. He just irritated her. No, if she was going to be honest . . . She passed by the entry to Knockturn Alley again . . . if she was going to be honest, it was Severus, Severus Snape, that made her yearn. If she'd never met him, maybe she would be able to continue this farce with Ron. But now she knew something different, she knew that she wasn't the only one in the world who valued the mind.

All this time, she'd thought she was some kind of freak for loving learning. Everyone had always mocked her for her intellectual ambitions, especially Ron. But talking with Severus was different. He listened to her theories and he was able to respond! In equal depth! She didn't have to explain every detail only to hear, "Oh. I don't understand why that's so important though. Wouldn't you rather be doing something else?" She paused, letting the tears build in her eyes. He was gone. She hadn't had a chance to let him know.

As she paused, she realized she was still standing in front of Knockturn Alley. It couldn't hurt to look, could it? With a furtive glance over her shoulder, she entered. Past midnight, the street was just as crowded as Harry had said it was the day he'd accidentally ended up there. She pushed the thought of Harry away, and tried not to let further tears well up. She'd lost Harry through death and Ron through marriage. She didn't have any real friends left. Well, there was Ginny . . .

Hermione made a mental note to speak with Ginny tomorrow. It was too late to talk to her tonight, but tomorrow . . . Ginny had said some things that resonated with her. She was sure the other woman would understand about Ron. She wasn't sure she wanted to talk to Ginny about Severus, though, at least not directly. Besides, she wasn't sure Severus wanted anyone knowing he was alive.

Her eye wandered to an awning showing a cauldron and a mortar and pestle. Hermione couldn't help herself, and soon, she was standing before the door. She hesitated only a moment-surely, this was a store for Dark potions-then entered. She didn't have to buy anything.

It was a potionmaker's dream store, and all it did was remind Hermione of Severus. She looked around at all the supplies, and had to gasp at the price of a cast iron cauldron. The owner of the shop appeared shortly after her gasp and explained that the cauldron was dusted in graveyard dust, which had been taken from the grave of a murder victim. Hermione did not understand the significance of that, and headed into the back room, which held all the potions. She had no intention of buying any for herself until she saw the line Venom's End. She'd remembered seeing potions by that company in Severus' apartment [PUT THAT IN EARLIER]. If Severus had them, maybe they weren't all bad. She spent some time looking through the names of the potions. Most of them were innocuous-stronger variations of the usual potions. Her eye settled on one to help with sleep. She could use that. She'd been getting less and less sleep, and tonight was no exception in how late she'd been staying up. Knowing that Severus, too, trusted the brand made up her mind. She checked the price and, finding she had enough money, she took it to the man at the counter.

"Funny you are buying that," the wizard said. "I just received notice today that all supplies from Venom's End would be cancelled. The Potioneer said he was leaving the potion-making business."

Hermione's eyebrows raised. Was she actually buying one of Severus' potions? "Well," she said, "then I'm glad to be getting this before it's gone." She thought of the price again, and added, "Actually, I'll take the others as well, if you don't mind. If they're going to be gone, I want to get them before they run out."

The shop owner set five more vials on the counter, and Hermione paid for them. Now she was sure of it. The Potioneer of Venom's End had to be Severus. He'd closed his pub and stopped selling his potions. Why?

Hermione thought back to her thoughts about Ginny, and how she'd decided that even though she'd talk about Ron, Severus wouldn't want anyone to know he was alive. Could that be it? Could someone have learned that he was alive?

"Do you know the name of the Potioneer?" she asked the shop owner.

He rifled through some papers and then looked up at her. "Samuel Sangfroid," he said.

Hermione nodded, satisfied. She felt good having provided him with some of her income, even if she couldn't see him. She left the shop and Apparated back home. She would talk to Ginny tomorrow.

"It's nothing she actually says," Ron said, his head leaning up against Andra's thigh, as they lounged on the floor. "It's how she says it. It's like she's got this big plan, and I'm just too stupid to see it."

Andra said nothing, but just tousled his hair. He'd been on the same theme all night, clearly working up to something. She'd plied him with firewhisky, and now he was beginning to loosen up some. She couldn't help it. She was attracted to him. She wanted him to trust her. Even if he was married, even if they couldn't be together . . . She squelched the feeling rising in her. Even if they couldn't be together, they could be friends. She tasted the word in her mind. Yes, friends. Best friends. She let a smile crawl across her face and played some more with his hair. It was so red, it looked like copper in the candlelight.

"But she's the one who screwed up the stupid plan," Ron said, pounding his fist on her carpet, and looking sheepish that it hadn't made a sound.

That was what drew her to him, Andra realized. His simplicity, the way he just assumed everything would work out. "How did she screw it up?" Andra asked, expecting more on the "she just doesn't appreciate me" theme.

"Snape," he slurred around his firewhisky. "She got together with Snape. S'how I'm not a vegetable anymore, you know? They got together and whisked up a Dark potion to bring my mind back."

Andra leaned back, as if a cold blast of wind had hit her. It couldn't be. She heard her voice go cold, saw her hand halt its progress through Ron's hair. "Not, that is, you don't mean our old professor, do you?"

"Hey," Ron said, then had a hiccup, "got anymore o'that firewhisky?"

Andra patted his chin. "I think you've had enough for now. Maybe later."

"Yeah," he said grinning.

"But what we're you saying about Snape?"

"Not dead. Sam-Sam, well, sangersumming. S-selling potions. Venom's End. Pub, Muggle pub. He and 'ermione, potion. Made me alright in the head. I'm okay now, but . . . hurt. Hurt a lot."

"Wait. Are you saying that he and Hermione created a Dark potion that brought you out of that Bludger-induced brain trauma?" Andra wasn't sure whether to be infuriated or relieved. Ron was himself now. They wouldn't have been having this conversation if Hermione hadn't done what she did. But it was Dark. Who knew what side effects it might cause? And who knew what damage had already been done? Hermione might think she was smart enough to keep it all on the positive, but this was Snape. Andra's skin went cold again. Snape. The man who'd killed her mother. And now they were fucking with Ron. No. Not on her watch.

"Yeah. What do you think I've been saying all this time?" Ron asked.

He leaned against her. She thought for a moment, then pushed back. She wasn't going to sleep with a married man. And he was intoxicated now, she'd gotten what she wanted. He wasn't going to be able to give her any more coherent responses. She put her hand on his shoulder. "It's time you left, I think," she said. "I think you had a touch too much of the firewhisky. Besides-" She glanced at the clock. "Hermione will be wondering where you are."

Another shiver ran up her spine, but she didn't heed it. Hermione hadn't done anything to Ron yet, and there was no indication she was actually going evil. The potion was worrisome, but Snape could have talked her into it. Snape was a lying, selfish snake, and Hermione could be as much a victim as Ron was. Still, she felt uneasy letting Ron casually Floo back to his wife. Part of it she knew was jealousy. But part was honest concern. The woman hadn't thought twice about using a Dark potion, not knowing what other consequences it might entail. As much as Andra wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, part of her was still suspicious. She would let Ron go, but she would be watching.

"'Ermione, yeah," Ron said, then collapsed against the couch.