Work Text:
Her orchard was silent as the grave. The trees were blooming beautifully. Their fruit was poisonous and black.
To any passers by, their glamour looked like ordinary cherries. But not the lean shadow of a man who knocked on her door on Lughnasadh.
She was waiting for Severus at the door, swinging it open before he could kick a second time. Hermione said nothing, merely raised a brow.
“Time has come to put the plan in motion.”
“What if I've changed my mind?”
He sneered. “You?”
She gazed at the orchard, nodding. “It is the right day for a funeral.”