Just like on every other normal early Saturday morning in autumn, the entire castle laid in a peaceful slumber. Walking quietly and holding her coat tight, she passed rows of sleeping portraits and torches that didn’t light up. Two of the corridors she took had windows to the outside. Rain was dashing against the glass, creating the only sound she perceived apart from her own shoes and breathing. The sun had risen already, but due to the thick clouds, it was still quite gritty. Swallowing down the memory of what had happened in that place the evening before, she halted and lifted her hand for three firm knocks. She didn’t expect an answer. Therefore it surprised her to find the lock clicking only half a minute later.
Still very sleepy and both the short cut on the right as well as the long wavy left part of her hair being a total mess, Professor Burbage blinked at her. She wore nothing but a crème-white thin strappy top and a delicate panty under her sloppily hanging brown dressing gown which she tried to hold somehow with her left hand. In the other, she carried her wand, which she lowered when she recognised the person who was standing outside.
“Good morning, Professor.”, her student said quietly. “I hope, I haven’t woken you.”
“Not – at all – ”, Hermione knew the yawned words were a lie, but who cared? “Good morning. Oh do come in. It isn’t good to stand in corridors these days,”, the teacher gave her a doleful smile and let her enter, closing the door behind them.
“Thank you, yes. The walls have eyes.”
“They have.”
A gasp made Hermione startle as well. Burbage had nearly dropped her wand.
“You have my permission to send Miss Patil a warning.”, like then in McGonagall’s office, he sat on the windowsill with his arms wrapped around his knees, looking outside. “Before she returns to the Gryffindor Tower.”
“Whatever, Sir?”, the Elf that shared the narrow space with him, standing, squawked.
“I think, a Half-Blood will do, if you understand, thank you.”
“I understand, and any time, Sir.”, with a loud crack, Dobby was gone.
He didn’t even wince at the noise. In the following silence that was only disturbed by the rain hitting the window, Hermione had time to get an impression of her surrounding. In the scarce early daylight, the office was still as cosy as it had been at her first visit many months ago. The only difference, three pots with plants were standing in the middle of the desktop. She realised that he must have put them there to be able to sit on the sill. It appeared, the short rough change of owner had really troubled the assumingly already weak hyacinth. It carried nearly no blooms and the earth in the pot was decorated with those that had fallen off.
Now she also noticed that his legs; apart from the black hair; were completely bare, but he wore a white long-sleeved shirt. The upper and lower buttons were opened and it hung over the edge of his seat. Knowing that he might feel he stare, she directed her eyes on the doorway to her right. The bed with white sheets and a big pillow was as much a mess as both teachers’ hair, the old sofa next to the door completely untouched however. She wondered where –
“The bed, Miss Granger, the bed.”, he moaned mockingly. “I’d rather sleep on rocks than ruining my spine on this crappy sofa. Yes, I shared that bed with her. Does it bother you?”
“Um – no – Sir – it – it doesn’t – ”, Hermione aspirated.
He turned in whole, finally taking his eyes off the window when smoothly moving his legs into tailor-fashion and resting his arms atop, his back straight against the glass, and she briefly spotted the furrowed scars on his right leg that weren’t fully covered by the hair.
Apparently Fluffy had caused serious damage. She wondered whether the wounds had been infected, or if it had solely been due to Fluffy being a magical creature, as some magical creatures were known to inflict wounds that can never be mended fully. The first however, would have indeed been more than ironic, she thought.
“Of course not.”, he sneered malicious. “It shouldn’t bother you at all.”, his expression became some sort of alarming anger. “And next time you consider waking your teachers on an early Saturday morning for questioning them about matters that are none of your business, you should learn from your mistakes and watch out for stalkers.”, Hermione swallowed. “Should there be nothing you’d like to say, I’d kindly ask you to leave.”, he snarled, but Hermione knew better.
“This is not your office, Sir.”, she countered and crossed her arms, smiling inside when she saw all his defences spall. “If there is someone to tell me to leave, it would be Professor Burbage; to whom I have come, by the way. It is not my fault that you decided that her bed was more comfortable than your own, Sir.”
She knew what she did was dangerous, but the words were spoken and he was obviously too tired to fight back. Even worse, he slightly raised, jumped over the small, crammed table below the window with unforeseen agility and walked straight into the bedroom. A little confused, the females watched him climb into the bed with his face to the wall and pull the white blanket over his head, leaving just a few bundles of his greasy black hair on the pillow to be seen.
“Severus?”, Burbage moaned.
“You heard her. It is not my office.”, the man grumbled through the blanket. “I am not supposed to be here. So, where am I?”
“Severus.”, but he must have given the bedroom door a wave of his hand from under the blanket – it noisily snapped shut. “Hermione?”, that one answered with a frustrated snort and walked over to the sofa, where she sank in so heavily that her legs downright flew up, but she managed to get them back down and crossed them in addition, sulking at the window. “What was that about?”, Burbage said softly and joined her, but Hermione kept staring into the cloudy sky.
“Oh, I don’t know,”, she grunted, more to herself, though wasn’t sure whether the other actually noticed that fact.
“Hermione, Severus and I – are close friends.”, a pause, yet no reply. “I don’t want to sound childish, but – does it bother you that we shared my bed tonight?”
“Of course not.”, the girl pouted on. “I thought, I said that.”
“You did say that.”
“Yes, I did.”
“So?”
“So what?”, Hermione spat, her head rushing at her with her brown bushes swaying.
“Nothing.”, Burbage remained calm, almost indifferent, and Hermione realised that she was just freaking out for hell only knew what reason.
“That’s right. It is nothing.”, not understanding why, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from being upset.
“Why are you here.”, that calm statement, rather than being a question, flared her unsettling frustration even more.
“Well, why would I be here? I don’t know! That is why I’m here! I don’t know why I’m here!”
“If I should have done you any wrong, you need to tell me. I can’t read your mind.”
“I suppose that isn’t necessary. You haven’t.”, Hermione still neither lost her tone, nor her tension.
“You can speak openly.”
“I already do.”
“I can ask him to show some sense and ignore the fact that you are his student, if you wish to talk to him privately.”
“What makes you think I’d want that.”, if Burbage could, she could as well.
“As I said, I cannot read your mind, but I’m a woman just like you and I’m not stupid. There is an unsolved, very private matter between you and him and I could probably help, if you’d let me.”
“There’s noting unsolved.”, Hermione huffed and jumped up, as good as the sofa let her.
“Well, then not.”, sighed Burbage.
“If you really were such close friends, you would know why he avoids plants since.”
“And you do know why?”, her teacher asked, a little angry now.
“Because his mother died in one of the glasshouses there.”, she snorted, turned and left without caring about the door. “Unsolved. Tz.”
Hermione had already disappeared around the corner when she closed and locked the door and went for the other, which she opened a little hesitantly. Behind it, the bed hadn’t changed. Dropping another sad sigh, she went over and laid down flat next to the white mountain range, her face straight at the ceiling.
“You should tell her.”, the only answer she received was a nondescript grunt.
~~#~~
It had been quite stunning to see all of them having turned up for the spontaneous meeting in the Room of Requirement. Just as stunning as Hermione’s respective spell worked on each of her today’s training par-
“I really don’t have any idea what’s wrong with you, but generally knowing you, makes me rather worried. That spell’s not supposed to seriously harm people; you said that yourself.”, Harry moaned when a group of girls hurried for Parvati who had slammed against the mirror wall, unconscious. “We’re friends, not enemies. Good that you can be so consequent, but save it for the real Death Eaters, please.”
“Oh shut up!”, spat Hermione, making everyone in her approximate surrounding back away.
“Oy!”, Ron coughed. “We know you like that Burbage, but that’s no reason to go mad on us!”
“If it interests you, Umbridge has lifted her suspension.”, she panted at him like an enraged dragon.
“Right! Even more reason not to go – ”
“Shut up, Weasley!”
“Bloody hell – ”
“I SAID – ”
“Expelliarmus!”, immediately Hermione was cut off when the spark-shooting wand she had brandished at Ron flew through the room like Parvati had and was easily caught by Ginny.
“Give me back my wand,”, Hermione huffed.
“No.”
“GIVE ME BACK MY WAND!”, she was scarlet red and had all shocked eyes on her.
“SHUT YOUR FUCKING TRAPDOOR YOU IFFY MADCAP OR I’LL KICK YOU ALL THE WAY TO GRIMMAULD PLACE!”, Ginny yelled back, apparently having given her the verbal smack she had needed – and was so instantly calm again that everyone presented her with a flabbergasted stare, including the conscious again Parvati, who still carried a number of fine cuts on her cheeks and hands which she had brought to the meeting. “Thanks.”, Ginny sighed at Hermione, whose colour slowly faded. “Can you tell me what the heck’s happened that you need to act like that ruddy portrait?”, those who didn’t know what she was talking about, were too dumbfounded to wonder anyway, so there was no need to bother.
“Nothing happened.”, Hermione was back at her senses – and anger.
“Guess, I don’t believe you.”, Ginny pushed her fists into her hips pretty much like her mother would have done it in such a situation, a wand in each.
“Fine! Then don’t believe me, you – you – ”
“Yes?”
“Twerp!”
A loud bang echoed through the room, making the mirrors quiver. Hermione saw only dancing lights against a black ceiling that just slowly cleared up. She had met with the same fate as Parvati, only that whatever spell Ginny had unleashed on her with both wands, hadn’t fully managed to knock her out. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t used an incantation – or because Hermione’s head had landed on a warm cushion that had laid exactly there for unknown fortuity. Probably the room had reacted.
“I’m so sorry – ”, she could barely hear Ginny’s whimpering over the ringing in her ears. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to – Hermione?”, now her face appeared behind the black veil along with Harry’s, Ron’s and – Luna’s. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”, the voice drifted into distance with other cries and the cushion strangely became warmer. “Oh my god – Hermione!”
“Luna!”, Harry gasped. “Run – McGonagall – or anyone – help – please – ”
She couldn’t see or hear Luna leave. The stars were gone. Everything was black and the hollow screams vanished into nothingness as though she was being pulled into the depths of an endless sea. Some pain against her cheek. Someone had carefully slapped her to keep her from falling unconscious. The blurred image was back – and fading into darkness again – and back – she felt being lifted. There was something pressed against the back of her now terribly aching head and she began to realise that the cushion must have been her own blood. She could hardly perceive the faces of the Weasley twins while trying to lock out a horrible awareness. One of them was carrying her out of the room so it wouldn’t be discovered.
“Put her down – somewhere here – ”, Harry said again.
“Hermione?”, was that – Neville? “Hermione! Don’t die! You hear me?”, no, it was – it – was – who was it? “Shit – ”, Ron. “Don’t just – ”, hasty footsteps.
“I said McGonagall – ”, moaned Harry.
“You also said, `anyone´.”, not seeing a thing but being conscious enough to hear Luna’s wondrously sinister growl, she couldn’t help but feel amused, though the muscles in her face seemed to refuse to form a smile.
“But not – ”
“Shut up, Potter, and get out of my way.”, Snape. “Turn her over, Weasley.”, the twin’s hand that had pressed some cloth against her bleeding wound, moved away when she felt herself being rolled onto her left arm that appeared disturbingly numb. “Hold back her hair.”
The deep voice was so quiet she feared she would travel too far into distance for surviving. Her body shut down everything that consumed too much energy. Even the pain. She was slowly reduced to simple thoughts as though too complicated ones would make that brain explode that was growing rapidly against its shell.
Darkness. Silent darkness. No feeling, no sound, no thought. Endless nothing. The black became grey, became white – became red. She was standing in mist, shining mist that was filled with glittering sunlight in a blood-red sea. Laughter. Echoing inside her head, but it wasn’t meant to disgrace her for her outburst, it was the laughing of a child. A girl, presumably. Faceless figures all around, there, but not. Something blinded her eye. It was a silver spark. No. A tiny object that reflected the sunlight, miles away – and still only feet. It fell to the ground with some loud noise. When it hit the cobbles, black fog engulfed her.
“Just imagine she wakes up and – is all nutty – ”
“Honestly Ron,”, that was Ginny sobbing, definitely, though far away, “She’d never – wake up – again – and – and all you got – on mind – is – that she – won’t be able t– to do – your homework – ”
“That’s not what I said – ”
“Shove it.”, one of the twins, equally distant over the sound of what must be a panting elephant.
“Yeah. Keep it to yourselves, both of you.”, the other.
“Listen – ”, Luna’s dreamy voice. “You hear that?”, even further away, Madam Pomfrey was hissing.
“Even if she should ever wake up again, it might take days for her brain to detumesce!”, Hermione noticed that she could hardly breathe and no part of her body would move on her will. “That is irresponsible! It could kill her!”
“It doesn’t make her more dead than she already is.”, a deep male voice replied calm. “Her body needs blood, and does it now. Otherwise she won’t be able to move ever again, should she survive.”
“If you force that all down her throat, her brain might explode! You’d have to break her skull again if you – ”
“I am well aware of the possible adverse effects of that potion, Poppy, and no, we will have to try without. I already had to remove some splinters manually before I mended it. I won’t do that another time. It has to work this way, or no way.”
“It indeed astonishes me what you have been able to, but please leave her to my colleague from St Mungo’s now. She will arrive any minute via Floo. She is an expert.”
“And I had a mother.”, snarled Snape, apparently coming closer.
“What does your mother have to do with that?”, Madam Pomfrey moaned, following.
Bright light. She didn’t feel the touch, nor could she move her eyes, but she saw his blurred face in front of her right eye becoming more clear with every passing second. Now in front of her left as well.
“Her irides work. She’s awake.”
“What?”, several people said at once; she could hear a chair falling and hasty footsteps.
“Stay away from her.”, the view became a different one – he must have lifted her so she sat almost upright. “You, Weasley, go and fetch Potter before he demolishes the entire castle.”, by the ginger and black flash she saw, she knew that Ron had understood. “And keep him from entering the wing, with brutal force, if you must.”, he called after him. “Poppy, hold her left arm. Weasley – not you, girl – George, press down her legs, Fred, to me and secure her right arm. We need to hold her in case her body reacts too quick. Good. When I removed the mask, you have three seconds to prepare yourselves.”
The bit of air that reached her lungs was gone and her sight blurred into a familiar black. Then, as if a lightning bolt was shooting through her veins, a warm rush flooded her whole body. Her heart beat like hell and something hammered inside her head before she could perceive something flowing down her throat. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasant either. She felt the uncontrolled twitching, felt her eyes roll up and her body fight against firm hands that held her down, as much as it fought the potion at first. In a moment of pure ecstasy, her lungs were filled with loads of fresh air and she could hear the massive breath she took transforming into rapid ones when she sank into the soft pillow and mattress. Blinking, she also heard the relieved sighs all around. The pressure eased and she finally managed to look around on her own.
“Ginny!”
“I advise you to let go of me as quick as you jumped and tell me why that insanity was necessary, Miss Weasley.”
“Sorry, Sir.”, Ginny muttered and Hermione breathed a chuckle when she understood that Ginny had flung her arms around Snape’s neck without thinking.
“Well, never mind. Miss Granger, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”, she gargled at him, still hardly able to breathe properly and her whole body prickled. “I could – always hear – anything. At least – most of – of the time.”
“How does it sound?”
“Better – than before – it was – so distant – now it’s – it’s getting clearer.”
“Your eyesight?”, his fingers were back at her lids, examining her irides.
“Better – as well.”, she suddenly felt a change of temperature – he had pushed down the blanket.
“Can you move your fingers?”, she tried, it seemed to work. “Lift your arms. Good. Now your legs, bend your knees, move your toes.”, a brief sigh escaped him. “Roll in.”
“What?”
“I said, roll in.”, though a little confused, she crouched up. “How do you feel?”
“Stupid.”, Hermione mumbled into her knees.
“Perfect.”, he sighed again. “You may sit up.”
“And hungry. I never felt such a bad need for onion soup before.”, she dizzily stared back up at him, costing her friends a quiet laugh. “Where’s my wand?”
“Here.”, Ginny moaned and put it down on the bedside table, next to the nearly empty bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion and she wondered how she could have possibly swallowed that all in one go without fully noticing.
“And my bag? Where is my bag?”, the sudden pressure in her head made her gasp for air.
“Your brain is back at work, Miss Granger. Don’t stress it. It is still swollen.”
“Figured that.”, she aspirated with an annoyed smirk.
“I have your bag here,”, Luna said softly, in her usual tone and showed her that it hung on her shoulder.
“Thanks.”
“Miss Weasley, go to Miss Granger’s trunk and bring whatever you think she might be needing for an overnight stay. You may leave it on the desk outside.”
“Sorry.”, Ginny threw her a smirk.
“It’s off the table already.”, Hermione murmured flaccid. “I’m sorry.”
“You two, help your brother and his dear friend find their way down to lunch. Deliver the message that she will recover completely, but only if she is granted a peaceful rest. There shall be no visits.”, he waited for all three Weasleys to be gone. “Miss Lovegood, may I ask, how you found me up there?”
“Intuition.”, smiled Luna, giving him pause.
“Well, then use it for finding Professor McGonagall and tell her that she has to do the shift she so desperately wanted me to take under.”
“Alright, Professor. Hermione, I’ll drop your bag here.”, it vividly landed on the floor at the foot of the bed, books rumbling. “Get well. We miss you already. And don’t touch any crow yet.”, with that, she hopped out, humming.
“Is she – fine?”, Madam Pomfrey asked, gazing after her. “Or should we call her back for – ”
“It is Miss Lovegood’s nature to be fine when others wouldn’t be.”, Snape wised her up. “Now Poppy, please order two bowls of onion soup from the kitchen. Ask for them to be brought in here directly and state that it was actually I who asked for them. The Elves will know what to do. You may send your colleague back to St Mungo’s.”
“But Miss Granger – she’d need professional help – ”
“Didn’t I just professionally prove that I could positively change her state within seconds?”
“Er – all right?”
The woman remained confused, but shuffled out to her desk, spinning as a shortly glowing pink line appeared on the floor in the doorway and the doors fell shut, being locked in addition. Hermione hadn’t seen him pulling his wand. Pacing gently, he went for her bag and placed it between the bedside table and the formerly fallen chair he summoned for himself. The stopping tap he gave the still moving bellows of the respirator, was the best idea he could have had in her opinion. Silence fell over the big infirmary.
“I don’t like to be as unfair as to penetrate your mind.”, he said softly when he sat down and pushed his wand back into his left sleeves before he crossed his arms and legs. “What happened?”, Hermione gulped, unsure where to start. “You can trust me.”
“I know.”, she took a deep breath and composed herself. “I overreacted, Ginny accidentally attacked me a little too forceful.”
“And now the whole story, if you please. Why were you in the Room of Requirement?”, understanding that she wouldn’t be able to tantalise him, she took another breath and continued.
“We’ve been practising.”, a bit embarrassed, she stared across the room and through the windows; it had stopped raining, but the sky was still covered with silvery grey clouds.
“Go on,”
“Harry’s our teacher.”, she confessed, curling her lips. “Basically it’s been my idea, but he agreed. He knows better. I only help him with the research on what we should learn – thanks to your books, Professor.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Some,”
“Names?”, her head zoomed at him, making her view blur for a second, but he radiated professional calm.
“Um – there’s – there’s a list in my bag.”, Snape reached down for it and pulled it onto his lap. “In my Arithmancy book.”, he got the book immediately and flapped it open, scanning the list with an ironic chuckle and a faint smirk.
“`Dumbledore’s Army´.”
“We first went wit `Defence Association´ and the short name `DA´; Ginny then meant we should better let it stand for `Dumbledore’s Army´ because – ”
“That is what the Minister fears.”
“Yes.”
“You trust those people? All of them?”, his lips stayed ajar with a languid frown.
“I’ve bewitched the list. If they give us away, everyone will know what kind of bastards they are.”, he gritted his teeth in thoughts and shortly scratched his neck, then returned the closed book to the bag and dropped it where he had before.
“How many meetings have there been?”
“A few,”
“You have to be cautious. There is an – ”
“Educational Decree, I know.”, huffed Hermione. “She’s doing her best to make us look at those at least three times a day. Somehow she must have figured out that we planned something, even before the first meeting. Otherwise, well, we’d know the sneak.”
“How do you inform the members about an upcoming meeting?”, Hermione reached into the front pocket of her uniform trousers and pulled the modified Galleon, which she gave to him.
“Everyone has such a coin.”, Snape examined it thoroughly, noticing the difference to a normal Galleon right away though. “Harry has the `master coin´. He’s the only who can change date and time. When it’s changed, the coins warm up a little so to notify – ”
“I know the specifics of a Protean Charm very well.”
“Of course.”
Snape nodded, put the coin down on the bedside table and tapped it three quick times with his wand. A single coin erupted from it, bumping a few inches into the air and coming to lie next to the original. It was an exact copy, as far as Hermione could tell. She wondered whether it would work just like those she had created in the same manner. But knowing of his capabilities, she decided it to be out of question. He handed back her original and kept the copy in his own pocket. Hermione’s eyes remained caught on the rest of the red liquid in the bottle. Her thoughts were interrupted radically when a loud crack tore the air.
“Hello Sir, Miss, I brought your soup!”, Dobby beamed, holding two bowls with steaming onion soup and spoons that rested on plates below in each of his bony hands.
“Thank you, Dobby.”, Snape took the things from him and gave one bowl carrying plate to Hermione, after he had stowed away his wand another time.
“May I ask, what happened, Sir?”
“Merely a non-noteworthy accident, but the soup will help her recover.”
“Then enjoy your meal.”, the Elf shortly bowed with a broad grin and was gone, accompanied by another crack.
“You like onion soup?”, Hermione asked, helping herself to the indeed soothing liquid.
“I do not detest it.”, he did the same.
“Did you know, Sir?”
“Did I know what, Miss Granger?”, she gave the bottle a nod.
“That I’d survive it?”
“No.”, he said honest.
“And still you risked it?”
“You were as good as dead. There was only the choice between a slow and a quick death. I’d personally prefer it quick, if I was to decide on my own life; in spite of some people wandering these grounds, whom I’d wish a very slow one.”, Hermione couldn’t stop a laugh escaping her when she saw his desperate attempt to hide a smile.
“Please don’t be angry with me when I mention it, but you – spoke about your mother – ”, he grunted, but to her relief, stayed and continued eating. “Did she – ever – was – was it ever necessary that – ”
“It is no use trying to glue me to this chair with muttered insecurities. Assemble the question, then ask it.”, Snape moaned to his soup.
“Have you ever been attacked in a way that forced your mother to do what you did to me?”
“My – once best friend accidentally sent me against the edge of a bookshelf. I was seventeen.”
“Ouch.”, Hermione distorted her face.
“I survived it, as you can hopefully see. No need for expressing anything you believe to be obliged to do.”
“Did you forgive your friend?”
“It was an accident. We had a fight and she lost control.”
“She?”
“She.”
“So, `once´, did – did you forgive her?”
“I did, she was the one to never forgive herself.”
“Oh. That’s why you aren’t anymore. Can’t you – try talking her into it?”, there was an awkward pause in which he still ate on, not deigning to look at her.
“No, that is not why. She’s dead.”, ashamed of herself and Igor Karkaroff’s warning echoing in the back of her aching head, she blew a mournful sigh.
“I’m sorry – ”
“As charming as this little habit of yours may appear, it doesn’t bring back anyone or anything.”
“I know. Still.”
“Well, thank you.”, he snorted into his half empty bowl.
“And your – other friend?”
“Who?”, he finally looked at her, but in a way that made her feel even smaller and more stupid.
“Professor Karkaroff.”
“Alive and kicking, as much as branded can be on the run from the Dark Lord. But I think, the earthquake two weeks ago galvanised him at last. He sent me an article from a Muggle newspaper with a proud note that he wasn’t among those eighty-four people who died, and a photo of a gigantic rock lying on the crushed ruins of a hut.”
“Er – what?”
“Apparently he considered the house I had found for him as not safe enough and decided to make holidays on Sumatra.”
“And – where is he now?”
“Just yesterday, I got a postcard from De Moines with a hint that the city is too big for him, despite liking the little houses in some districts and he meant he’d go back to Detroit. I hardly expect him to mean the Detroit; how wonderfully controversial. I suppose, it is the smallest, which only has like a hundred inhabitants, as far as I know, if it even still has.”
“Des Moines – ”
“Iowa. United States.”, Snape finished his soup and sat the dishes next to the bottle.
“That’s far from here!”, Hermione chuckled.
“So is Indonesia.”, she earned herself a bored stare.
“Yeah. So he’s travelling around?”
“It appears so, doesn’t it? I don’t expect him to stay longer than two months in a place. He ever wanted to travel the world and now it seems, he has overcome his laziness.”, Hermione nodded approvingly with a weary smile.
“And you? Do you want to travel the world?”
“I have a job to do.”
“Of course, but just saying, if You-Know-Who hadn’t returned, would you – ”
“I have a job to do.”, he repeated as cold as her soup was now.
“I’m sure, Dumbledore would find some other Potions teacher.”
“And I can do nothing but agree with you, even if it should result in grand catastrophes in the Dungeons. Still, I have a job to do.”
“Which is?”, Hermione murmured urging.
“Private.”
“Fine, then not.”, she snorted.
“There are things, Miss Granger, which you don’t yet understand.”
“Then make me.”, she pouted at the window the bed was facing.
“No. You are too young.”
“I am sixteen. That makes me of legal age to drink alcohol.”
“Exactly. That makes you of legal age to launch yourself into the worst mistakes possible.”
“You know well what I achieved in those not even four and a half years I’ve been to this school.”
“I do.”
“I kept silent about all of your secrets.”
“Certainly you did.”
“So?”
“It is private. I have come to respect your privacy, Miss Granger. Respect mine, if you would, please. I am your teacher, not your brother, uncle or whatever else you endeavour me to become.”
Hermione squinted her eyes. He was right. No matter what they would discuss, he was still an authority and she was to respect him as such, regardless of how often Professor Burbage might offer her help to convince him of momentary exceptions for the sake of it. She should be happy with the fact that he hadn’t stood up yet and left, she thought. He had decided to stay with her, alone in the empty Hospital Wing. He had gained enough confidence as to not flee out of the next best window. She startled up.
The bed was moving. He had unlocked the wheels and pushed it over to the apsidal end of the otherwise rectangular room where he halted it with Hermione’s right side next to the iron oven so she would see nothing but the beautiful landscape outside if she laid on her left. She watched him swinging her bag onto his shoulder and getting her shoes and the bedside trolley in the same matter. The chair floated after him when he rolled it through the room, fixing all wheels when he arrived at the left side of the bed. His chair settled down and he dropped the bag on the floor again, next to the shoes. Hermione used the time he took a long lasting glance out of the windows for piling up her dishes between his. She decided for a try.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”, he didn’t turn away from the windows.
“What if somebody else gets injured?”
“I locked the door with a simple spell. Madam Pomfrey will be able to open it in case.”
“And what if – what if – PP is the one to get injured?”, she swallowed down a giggle.
“Shall she perish.”, Snape grumbled.
“So you would let her die?”
“Quite frankly, yes.”
“That Lily, Professor Burbage mentioned, was she – Harry’s mother?”, Hermione abhorred those pauses, but she knew she had to grant him all the time he needed for answers he obviously wasn’t fond of providing.
“Yes.”
“Was she the one who accidentally – ”
“Stop declaring yourself dense.”
“Alright. How was she?”
“She was not your mother.”
“You wouldn’t tell Harry a thing either.”, she understood.
“She was the kindest being I ever met; apart from my own mother.”
“Professor Lupin said something similar.”
“Surprise, surprise. Professor Lupin was probably the only among that group of dunces who valued her.”
“But he didn’t marry her – James – ”
“Do not conjecture if you don’t know the facts.”
“Then tell me the facts.”, Hermione moaned. “Sir.”
“No. You are too young.”
“I’m not!”, as though he knew what that cry had caused in her head, he turned around, presenting her with a concerned look.
“And you need to rest. As I said, don’t stress your brain. If it is your wish, I will stay. But don’t expect me to be much of a company.”
Snape waited for a confirming nod, then turned the chair to the semicircular window front, sat down, pulled his so eminent pouch from which he got himself a book, stored the little bag safely and crossed his legs. There was something else he took from a pocket of his robe, but she couldn’t see it from her position. Since he brought it up to his face, she guessed it must be some sort of dragée and she considered whether she should ask him for one. But on the other hand it would be quite impolite to ask a teacher for a bonbon. His greasy curtains shutting his face from her, she watched him sit there like a kind of Dementor, though without the cold – and, well, he was sitting. She imagined how odd it would look, if a Dementor took itself a chair and sat down on it.
Only the clock above the doors told her that she had spent more than an hour looking at him, the landscape, the blanket she had covered herself with again or the highly fragile decorated old ceiling structure. Getting bored, she sat up and peered over his shoulder to see what he read. A little frustrated, she discovered that she couldn’t read the signs at all. Not that they were too far away from her eyes, they were Cyrillic letters.
“I had no idea you could read Russian as well.”
“I have spent more than half a year in Ukraine with a Russian. Put one and one together.”
“Sorry.”
“And there she goes.”
“Sor-”
“And goes on.”
“Sor-”
“And on and on and further, ever on.”
“Stop it!”
It happened so fast that she just realised what she had done, when he straightened again and slightly turned to her with an expression she had never seen on him. It was an alerting mix of different kinds of perplexity. His hair was a complete mess, but he didn’t seem to bother. Hermione felt warmth rising to her face and the onion soup revolting against her crumpling stomach. In what appeared like weeks of embarrassment, she made up all possible ways of punishment. From detention to a hundred points taken from Gryffindor, to contacting her parents – but not to that. He gently pressed her down on the tilted head end of the mattress, seized the pillow she had smacked him with from her hands and dropped it on her face.
Panting her own confusion into the feather-filled darkness, she closed her eyes with regret. What had she done? And how – how could he just – do something like that? Was it due to her current state? Would she receive the real punishment once she had recovered? Would he ever talk to her again? What had driven her anyway? But he had provoked her, hadn’t he? Still – hitting – him – with –
“I can understand that you don’t like the way I have my hair,”, she heard him saying, muffled by the pillow, and astonishingly indifferent, “But there is no need for demonstrating it so blatantly.”, what? “You could have said it.”
At the climax of her bafflement, Hermione pulled the pillow from her face and stared at the ceiling, then at the back of his head. His hair was even straighter than before. He must have magically flattened the slightly springy ends.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Would you – accept my apology if I pleaded for it?”
“I see nothing you would need to speak an apology for.”
Taking this as her only chance to get away with it, she decided not to probe into it, put the pillow back under her aching head and returned to staring at – the landscape changing under the moving clouds and sun behind, the blanket she every once in a while covered herself with – or the highly fragile decorated old ceiling structure.
To think what happened in the rest of the school – just a handful of people knowing that someone almost died at such an ordinary Saturday – and that person – was overstrained with not needing to do anything. Even if Snape would have let her do her homework, there wasn’t any homework left to do. She felt the enormous need to take her wand, blast away the doors of the Hospital Wing and storm to the Gryffindor common room for finishing each and everyone’s essays, charts, diaries, whatso–
“Don’t you dare to even continue thinking about it.”
“What?”, Hermione startled. “Hey! You said, you won’t – ”
“Guess,”, Snape sang lazily and fumbled with his pocket another time, “I decided to renege.”, he clapped the book shut and Hermione noticed in last split-second that he had actually finished it. “Besides, I said I don’t like to be as unfair, not that I wouldn’t be.”
“And now?”
“Now?”
“What are you going to do now? I mean, is there – ”
“Any `homework´ to do? No. You chose one of those absolutely rare Saturdays of mine; I could have used to do nothing but being myself; for almost dying. Congratulations.”
“I’m – disappointed to hear.”, not this time, she thought.
“There is no need for you to – ”
“I didn’t!”
“Feel disappointed.”
“Oh damn it! Can’t you give it a rest?”, Hermione groaned. “Sir?”, better be on the safe side, better be. “So?”
“So?”, he turned his chair to her.
“What does someone like you normally do when they are just being themselves?”
“I walk around the castle, climb along the rocks, undress myself completely and jump down into the lake. Then I swim to a good spot, climb up all the way and jump again, as often as I feel like.”
“Don’t make fun of me, Sir.”, the girl repined, biting her lip, but he crossed his legs as well as his fingers on the book on his thigh with unchanged expression of disregard. “What do you do?”
“I already finished a book, didn’t I?”
“And what do you do when you don’t finish reading a book?”, he raised an eyebrow.
“I could use that bathroom over there and take a shower, if it pleases you.”, he moaned cynical. “Want me to sing you a song?”
“That’s enough!”, Hermione cried, regretting it immediately when she felt becoming dizzy. “Behave like a man.”
“And how does a man behave in your opinion, Miss Granger?”, she opened her mouth to say anything, but couldn’t come up with a single word. “Yes? No? Pity. If you – excuse me, I actually feel a strange urge to use that bathroom for drowning myself.”, he took the book, stood up and marched around the bed.
“Why did you become a teacher, when you hate students so much?”
“I don’t hate students, Miss Granger.”
“Sure. You despise them.”, she mumbled to herself.
“Not nearly.”
“Damn!”
“Mind your language.”
“Can I use the bathroom first, please?”
“There are two. I hardly reckon you’d wish to take a leak in the men’s shower.”
Hermione grunted, slid off the bed and followed him. He had already disappeared in the side tower when she lost balance and lurched towards the closest bed she could spot. Before reaching it, she knew she would never do so. The floor came closer and closer and – stopped coming closer. She hung against something that lifted her to her weak feet. She had no idea how he could have been so quick, but he had caught her.
The arms she had held out instinctively were bent and trapped at her chest. His breath on her head and her lips curling, she leant back, incapable of holding herself from crying. The two arms pulled her closer and pressed her fists to her chin. She buried her tightly shut lips in them as to deaden her weeping and only chuckled through her nose. When he tenderly rested his cheek on her hair, she gasped for breath before she covered her open mouth and nose with her flat hands.
“Come.”, he whispered so softly that it sent shivers through her entire body. “I will wait for you to be done and bring you back to the bed, if you promise me not to leave it without my permission.”
“Okay – ”, Hermione aspirated into her hands and wiped off her tears.
~~#~~
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