Motto:

"'Harry?' – Hermione looked frightened that he might curse her with her own wand. Her face streaked with tears, she crouched down beside him, two cups of tea trembling in her hands and something bulky under her arm."

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 287

ooooo

Hermione Granger's and Harry Potter's hiding place

Christmas Day 1997

"Hermione, remember that some secrets are better to remain such until they no longer bear the power to harm those whom they were meant to protect. Keep the memory vial you will find on yourself safely hidden until the war is over or you are really desperate for help.

The person who saved Harry's life tonight may die otherwise – as it may die when Harry can't protect the secret of its existence. For the good of us all, don't tell Harry that the person visited you unless he learns how to close his mind. Also, since you have forgotten that the potion you first brewed in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom in your second year becomes poisonous with lengthier use, make Harry take the antidote for it from the second vial. It dissolves without leaving any aftertaste in simple sugared tea.

Finally, let me assure you that this missive indeed wrote the daughter of two Australians. When you move somewhere more sheltered, remember the place you went camping with them when your life was still an ordinary one."

Unable to sleep, Hermione once again turned the parchment with the note in her hand, not really knowing if she was able to do to Harry what the letter suggested.

She was quite sure that the vial she had found on the floor, where the missive had laid before, truly contained antidote to Boomslang skin and suspected that she had had her own helping earlier that night but she simply couldn't be sure and after the horrific night in Godric's Hollow, she was terrified and unwilling to take any more unnecessary risks.

Still undecided, utterly exhausted both physically and mentally and feeling absolutely alone and lost, Hermione stumbled out of her chair and to the kitchenette in the tent's back. There she started to prepare tea, calming her rough nerves with the simple activity. Oh Harry, she thought while she divided the tealeaves in their accustomed mugs and poured the boiling water over them, I am so sorry to keep secrets from you – so very, very sorry. Please, don't think I would ever betray you! Please, don't do it to me. Not now, Harry … Not when you are all I have left.

The tea was ready then and Hermione sighed deeply and with an unusual hesitation, retrieved the vial with the potion from her pocket. One last time she eyed the yellowish liquid inside. The solution appeared fairly strong – if it really was what she thought – and Hermione reminded herself with a bit of dread that the simple antidote might not be working for them for much longer. Five to six months of continuous use, if she remembered correctly now – and then, unless the antidote was taken, St. Mungo's. Did she have a choice at all then? She shook her head slowly. No, not really.

Determined now, Hermione opened the vial, sniffed the potion and then, carefully, tipped a drop of the liquid on the top of her tongue. The potion was distasteful as it was supposed to but otherwise seemed to be all right; still, she waited a couple of minutes to be absolutely sure. When nothing happened, Hermione grabbed Harry's mug and resolutely turned the vial into it. The potion dissolved a few moments later and she banished the vial and reached for sugar – only barely halting herself before dropping the bowl into the tea as well.

Her hands trembling slightly, the girl took the mugs then and went to find Harry. She was almost by the tent's entrance when she recalled the book she wanted to show the boy – and set the mugs aside to return for it.

Next, equipped with both the supply of the sweet, hot liquid and Rita Skeeter's rubbish – as she was sure – Hermione made her way outside into the frosty morning. She hoped that Harry was less angry with her now… and prayed he wouldn't refuse or – Merlin forbid! – question the tea.

ooooo

Hogwarts

Headmaster's Office

Christmas Day 1997

Severus Snape woke to a pleasant quiet of his office – for which he was deeply grateful – and an unusual emptiness of the castle he was obliged to feel as the current head of the school. The absence of the students and the majority of the teachers quite unexpectedly unsettled him and he stared in the black depths of his coffee, unable to fathom the strange feeling. Had it something to do with the fact he used to consider the school – with everything that belonged to it – his home rather than the battered house at Spinner's End? He couldn't be sure… yet it was a possibility. But then – to miss the brats and the noise they were able to produce? Never!

His thoughts – as so many times before in the recent months – unwillingly wandered to the golden trio then. Would Granger follow his directions? he wondered. She seemed capable of doing so – although, was the missive he had left with her enough to persuade her? He had tossed the parchment and quill at her back in their tent and commanded that she wrote something her future self would think credible. But… did she actually believe him by that point?

He had read the letter and had to acknowledge that it was cleverly written – still, that didn’t guarantee the girl would follow her own instruction. Unlike his dozing predecessor, now merely an annoying portrait hanging above his desk, Snape refused to take anything for granted. Life was everything else than that in his opinion. If it would be otherwise, Minerva would now be sitting in this office and he wouldn't have to spend all those long hours cautiously restraining the Carrows from overusing the Unforgivables on the students and pacifying the hungry crowd of Dementors the Dark Lord insisted to position at the school entrances.

ooooo

Hogwarts

Headmaster's Office

26th December 1997

Panting for breath, Phineas Nigellus Black returned to his portrait and with a triumphant gleam in his eyes announced to Snape, who was by then already impatiently pacing the room: "Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood -"

Snape abruptly turned and spat at him in sudden fury: "Do not use that word!" and Phineas hastily nodded: "- the Granger girl, then, mentioned the place as she opened her bag and I heard her!"

Turning away from both Phineas Black and Dumbledore, Snape breathed in relief; Granger had held her word then. He didn't know how else he would have been able to give the boy the sword of Godric Gryffindor under the circumstances Dumbledore's portrait deemed so crucial.

Briefly entering the girl's mind before he had left her to take care of Potter on her own, Snape had seen a clearing beneath of an ancient oak tree where he supposed the children had built their tent now as well as a small pool close to it that was so ideal for his plan. But there was absolutely no need to share this all with Dumbledore; the man – no, portrait! – was fairly insufferable as it was.

"And you still aren't going to tell me why it's so important to give Potter the sword?" Snape asked after he had retrieved the antiquate weapon, giving the old man one last chance to share his secrets with him.

When Dumbledore's portrait replied: "No, I don't think so." Snape nodded to himself. If the old man was unwilling to trust him, he was keeping his own secrets. He turned to the door, his travelling cloak over his robes now.

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," he said, making his voice icy. "I have a plan."

There, old man, this has to suffice you. Snape smirked and loudly closed the door behind him.

ooooo