Dies Mali
Two days in February
It was a dark and stormy night, the kind of night that makes the lonely feel more alone, and the cold feel even colder. And for someone who felt both lonely and cold, the dismal yet harsh weather did nothing to amend Severus Snape's solemn mood.
He leaned in, lowering his face to fall into the support of his hands, but flinched back almost immediately from his cold skin. He took another sip of coffee, savouring the warmth that then subsequently flooded his body.
After reflection, Severus realised the coffee did nothing but warm his body for only a few meagre minutes, and so, returned to his invisibility potion, hoping the hot stove would heal his body of the numbness.
Fortunately the burly flames soon warmed his body. Although Severus could still feel what felt like a hole somewhere around the area of his heart, he knew nothing as trivial as warmth could cure that.
Upon inspecting his potion, Severus cursed under his breath as he realised he should have added the skin of a Boomslang a good fifteen minutes ago, but had been too preoccupied with marking to remember. He whipped out his wand and distinguished the fire. He reached down ready to depose of the useless potion, but stopped in mid-motion; knowing that the cauldron would be scalding hot, and instead withdrew his wand once again and cast an Evaporation charm. Then he quickly captured the gas in a small container, before deposing of it.
He relit the fire beneath the now empty cauldron, and began work on re- preparing the ingredients. Fatigue catching up on Severus, he nearly sliced off the end of his finger whilst shredding the skin of a Boomslang. Glancing down at his watch he sighed in annoyance, as it simply read 'You should have been in bed hours ago!' He didn't need a watch to tell him that. He looked behind him and checked the muggle clock, which currently read 2:43AM. Sleep would have to wait if he wanted this potion complete by next week, he would have to work on it now.
Taking a few swift strides over to his desk to retrieve his coffee, he then noticed the homework he had yet to finish marking. Severus sighed again, this time, with the uncommon feeling that he was beginning to bite off more than he could chew.
Upon taking in account the name of the pupil of whose homework that lay atop the pile, he plucked his quill from its holder, scratched in a big bold F at the end of The-Who-Who-Should-Have-Died's homework, and then stalked back over to his demanding potion.
*
It was dark. She couldn't see and she was shaking.
There was a faint tapping in the background that was beginning to sound like the tick of a clock.
Due to the darkness, she could not locate the sound of the clock with her eyes, and found it impossible to detect the source with her ears. There were too many other noises. Pounding and yelling and screeching and screaming to soft whispers that soaked the air.
Time felt irrelevant here. Everything seemed to be moving at alternative speeds. Suddenly speeding things up, and then abruptly changing and slowing everything to almost a complete stop. She could feel the ground moving beneath her, as if it was also following the rules of time. She couldn't see anything moving, but she was sure if she could it would only be a mass of blurry colours.
She slid a tentative step forward and stretched her hands out, letting them fumble about in the air for a while. When she was certain that no solid objects were close by she stood dead still. She closed her eyes, concentrating all her energy on her hearing, trying to pick out one of the numerous noises.
A slow, raspy, steady creaking sound distracted her from the other deafening rackets.
Scrunching up her eyes she attempted to ignore all other sounds except for the creaking, aiming to decipher whereabouts it was filtering from.
Without warning, the floor accelerated beneath her and she fell backwards.
When she positive that the floor had seized to complete halt, she forced her eyes open and gasped.
The room, or whatever she had originally been in, was no longer dark, but filled with a few dreary colours, such as browns and greys and blacks. It appeared to be someone's lounge. To her right she could see what would have been a window, swathed by thick, creamy curtains, which were blocking out all light. Although a small lamp, situated beside a musty sofa, was emitting a soft yellow glow.
Propping herself up on her elbows she looked this time to her left, to the source of the creaking sound. Her eyes went wide;, she wanted to scream but nothing seemed to be coming out of her mouth.
A large wooden rocking chair was creating the creaking. It was must have been charmed to rock robotically, because the position of the person in the chair itself ensured her that they certainly weren't rocking it themselves. She wanted to be sick.
It wasn't precisely the position of the figure, more the appearance that disturbed her.
The body was stiff, and very, very pale. Its hands appeared to be in mid- motion; she assumed they had been reaching for their wand. Their were legs positioned as normal, but judging from the wheelchair beside her, it seemed that they had not had much choice in that matter.
Their face was gaunt and pallid, their eyes were wide and white, their icy blue lips in the shape of a scream. Freckles would have over flowed their face, had streams upon streams of dried blood not covered the most part it. As her eyes followed the trails upwards towards the top of their head, she found the source.
A small, but thick bladed silver dagger had been penetrated into the centre of the cranium. Small green emeralds decorated the handle; the dagger itself was half covered in dark blood. Some, having somehow made its way high up the dagger, and the bottom half embedded in the crusty, crimson dried liquid. The auburn hair was hardly noticeable underneath the vast blood nest that the dagger had created. Still, beneath all the blood, the face was still recognizable. It wasn't easy to forget someone like Ron Weasley.
Unexpectedly, the floor lurched, and she was once again plunged into darkness.
*
One long, blood hurtling scream escaped Hermione Grangers mouth. But from somewhere in the deep depths of Hogwarts, nobody was around to hear her.
She lurched upwards into a sitting position, body trembling. Hauling herself up onto the closest chair, she gulped down the glass of water she had prepared beforehand.
She ought to go back to Gryffindor tower soon, but decided to wait for her legs to stop shaking, otherwise she wouldn't even make it out of the classroom without collapsing.
It was hard, keeping up this façade. Hermione knew she couldn't go on like this forever. Soon, someone would notice she never slept in her bed. But waited for the others to fall asleep, then snuck off to a derelict classroom, then lay, in waiting for the nightmares to begin. No, not nightmares, premonitions. At first they emerged as nightmares, but after fourth year.She had dreamt of Cedric's death earlier on in the year, but to discover that her nightmare had become a reality.
Sometimes, she could hear the people dying, but would not get a picture until the ending scene, but she would know they were muggles. It was funny really, she spent half her life at Hogwarts attempting to demonstrate that people like Malfoy were wrong, that muggles were just the same, just as good as Witches and Wizards. Wizards were smarter, more vigilant; they knew to expect the worse. But muggles, they were naïve and stupid, too wrapped up in their own firm beliefs to recognize what was really going on around them. All of her picture-less visions resulted in muggle deaths, each time she would hold in a breath with the fear that it might be her own parents. Finally at the end, when an image came into view, she would always feel relief to some extent.
But now, recently, everyone around her was dying in her dreams. She couldn't look at the people the same. Last week it was Lavender's, that wasn't too bad, nasty, but not disturbing, not as bad as.tonight. But that was all the more reason to stay away from the common room; she couldn't look Lavender in the eye, not without some sort of guilt tying up in her stomach. If she wanted, she could speak to someone, someone who could help her. Then she could help everyone, prevent all their deaths and.
Even in her head it sounded stupid. Who would listen? And how could they help. She doubted there was a potion that could cure this. Everything was getting to be too much, too fast.
Slowly but steadily she hauled herself up to standing position, and gradually made her way back to Gryffindor tower before dawn could arise, and her absence noticed.
*
"Hermione! If you're not down here in one minute we're leaving without you. My stomach's practically digesting itself!"
"Ron, even if your stomach was digesting itself, which I assure you it isn't, you wouldn't be in any immediate danger. With the amount you eat, it could go on for months" Hermione retorted, descending the circular stairs from the girls dormitories.
"Very witty. Now can we please leave? I swear you take longer each day to get ready. I'm already having to stick with one helping of breakfast, I don't have time for any more!"
Harry snorted, and heaved himself out of the plush armchair to join his two friends.
"You could have already gone down for breakfast, Ron; Harry and I have potions first thing and need to collect a potion from Madam Promfrey before class, so I doubt we'll have time"
Ron gave a cry of exasperation, "And you couldn't have told me this earlier because.?"
"You didn't as," she simply replied.
Ron pulled a face and headed off to breakfast alone.
"You ready then?" Harry asked once Ron had left the room.
"Yes," she paused for a moment, "am I taking longer?" She enquired finally.
"Longer?" Harry questioned, confused.
"To get ready in the morning," Hermione explained.
"Oh, never really thought about it really. I suppose."
"Oh. Sorry"
Harry chuckled. "I think Ron's the one you ought to be saying it to, I think he suffers the most."
Hermione smirked, "Me too"
Harry motioned towards the common room exit, "Shall we?"
Hermione nodded a silent reply and they both headed off towards the hospital wing.
*
"Now, are all your potions light blue?" Snape barked impatiently.
Murmurs of "yes's" and nods came from the class.
"As the remaining pair comes up to hand in the rest of your completed potion, you will also collect a Wake-Up potion that I assume you all accumulated this morning, in addition please try to avoid stepping on the sleeping" and as the class remained still and silent, he added, "Well hurry up."
There was a rush of feet and scrapes of chairs as half the class hurried up to the front desk to retrieve an antidote. They had been working in pairs on the Dreamless Sleep potion; consequently, half the class was now in a deep slumber. All except Hermione Granger, whose partner, Pansy Parkinson, hadn't made the potion quite strong enough.
*
It was dark. It was always dark. But it didn't stay dark this time. Suddenly, blurs of vibrant colours splurged her vision. Also, everything was silent. Except for that ticking sound again. Although now, listening harder, it wasn't as sharp as a tick. In fact, it wasn't sharp at all, it was soft. Like a soft padding, or thumping. She couldn't locate an image yet, but her nose was beginning to detect smells. There was a very prominent smell of moss, grass and dew about the air.
The soft padding was increasing in texture. Each single noise was now syncopated with another. It wasn't faster, there was just more of.of whatever was creating the sound.
A loud, rough bark filled the air, and then a mirthless, hollow laugh.
Gradually the blurring faded out, and soon one single picture rapidly formed all around her.
Lucius Malfoy stood large, his aura glowing with power, satisfaction, and pleasure. At his feet one large, shaggy dog stood in attack position. Sirius.
A horrible, gut wrenching uneasy knot formed in the bottom of her stomach as she now saw what had been creating the soft padding.
Hundreds upon hundreds of grey paws padding the wet grass, which could only belong to hundreds of werewolves. Each one was bearing a black expression, as it paced monotonously towards Malfoy.
A quick wave of Malfoys wand and they all came to an abrupt halt, except for one. Which trudged forwards still, further towards Malfoy and Sirius, slowing, and then stopping merely a few metres from them.
She closed her eyes just for a moment, and concentrated on just breathing. Knowing only too well who the lone werewolf would be. And she didn't need to hear Malfoy whisper in his most satisfied voice, "Attack", to know what would shortly unfold.
Sirius leapt forwards, launching at the werewolf, giving it no time to react in any way. He sank his sharp teeth deep into its neck, and with a rip, which made Hermione promptly turn around and violently throw up; the dog had torn the werewolf's head apart from its body.
The last things she heard beneath her heart wracked sobs, were Malfoy uttering "Finite Incanatem", a faint pop, and voice that could only belong to Sirius chock out the word "Remus", before releasing the bile brought up in his throat, and say numbly "Avada Kedavra".
Then all was quiet.
*
Hermione's eyes flew wide and open. Her breathing heavy and jagged. She had to keep gasping in huge gulps of air, but her throat was parched and so the air made it sore.
She couldn't remember where she was, but before any thoughts could be considered she found a glass being pushed harshly into her hand. She sat up immediately and hastily drank the contents.
It was only then that she began to take her surroundings. The first thing she noticed were the dreary, stonewalls, and then memories started flooding back. Potions. Hermione pushed her eyes shut and fell back to laying position. She had been in potions. Snape had partnered her up with that snotty bitch Pansy Parkinson. She was smart though. Somewhere along the line Pansy had managed to con her into testing the Dreamless Sleep potion they had been making. but that didn't make sense.her dream was definitely.dream-full.
"Miss Granger?" Came a voice from somewhere in the room.
She let her eyes flutter open and slowly got to her feet. She suddenly became aware of how empty the classroom was. Beside herself, only Snape was present.
"Where is everyone?"
"They've gone Miss Granger. The bell for break went 20 minutes ago. You, on the other hand, will not be attending break. You will be spending the next hour and a half attempting re-make the Dreamless sleep potion, seeing as you were obviously incapable of making a successful one earlier." Snape answered, curling his lip slightly.
"What?" She couldn't help but blurt out. "Sorry Sir, but why do I have to stay and do it? What about Pansy?"
"Miss Parkinson, I am certain, is capable of what you are not."
"I beg your pardon Sir." She almost snarled.
"I simply mean that I know for a fact that Miss Parkinson is competent in the art of potions making, and it would be very uncharacteristic of her to produce an ineffective potion."
"So you doubt my potion making skills?" Her anger was increasing rapidly, and he was loving it.
"Something like that Miss Granger." Snape smirked and strode back to his desk. "Begin then." He added after she did not move.
"What about class?" She ought to be in Transfiguration now; Harry and Ron would be wondering where she was.
"Already taken care of. I had a few words with Mr Potter a few moments ago, and explained that you may not be awake, or in the right state of mind to participate in your Transfiguration lesson."
"What do you mean? Not in the right state of mind?" Hermione was torn between anger and curiosity. Why was he uncertain of her state of mind? It wasn't like she had been screaming or anything. At least, she didn't think she had. She hadn't woken up screaming like normal.
"I merely assumed that it would be.difficult facing Professor Lupin after your.dream."
Her blood ran cold. "How do you know what I saw?" She asked quietly. Suddenly, for some reason, she could not quite bring herself to look at him.
"Legilimency" Snape said after a small pause.
"Wha-" Hermione began, but cut off quickly. She remembered what Legilimency was.
"You do know what that is Miss Granger?" Snape said silkily.
"Yes," she said defiantly, regaining her composure. "I did not recall it immediately because Harry only really mentioned Occulemency."
Snape scoffed. "Well of course he did. He is hardly going to remember any information that is not directly about himself."
Hermione's eyes flashed with anger but she kept her mouth shut.
"How long have you been having those kind of dreams?" Snape said.
"They aren't dreams," Hermione muttered shortly and began fetching the ingredients to begin the Dreamless Sleep potion again.
"Then perhaps you could inform me upon what they are then," Snape said quite acidly.
Hermione didn't answer, and instead started slicing up some of the ingredients.
"Did you not hear me Miss Granger, or are you simply refusing to answer?"
Steadying and calming her voice she said, "Or maybe, I do not see the point in answering a question to which you obviously do not wish to hear an answer to."
"And what would give you that impression."
"Perhaps your lack of emotion in your voice, or maybe your bored complexion"
"If I were you, I would watch that tongue of yours Miss Granger. In fact you can serve one hour in detention with me tonight, where you can contemplate all possible means of the phrase 'Silent as the grave'.
Hermione bit her tongue hard, dearly wishing to ask Snape to contemplate all possible means of the phrase 'If you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything all'.
"And if," Snape added, "you find yourself in a position where you are too rude to even answer a simple question, then you can begin practicing for tonight right now."
Hermione shut her eyes tightly and ground her teeth together, hard. She pushed her eyes open, determined not to show her seething anger, and kept her eyes down, appearing to be focused on her potion
*
Hermione had not been planning to speak to Ron and Harry until after Dinner. The Dreamless Sleep potion had taken longer than expected, and by the time she had arrived at lunch Harry and Ron had already left. After lunch consisted of double Ancient Runes, so they did not meet until Dinner, where Hermione said that she would tell them all about Potions later.
So this gave Hermione roughly an hour to think up an excuse for why she might be writhing about on the floor, while everything else was sound asleep.
Just as she was leaving the Great Hall, her mind still blank of possible reasons, she literally bumped into Snape.
"Do have to manners to watch where you are walking please," he bit sourly. "I expect to see you in my classroom in fifteen minutes to serve your detention Miss Granger." He added, after noticing who had walked into him, and then stalked off.
Her detention! For the next fifteen minutes, she was almost looking forward to her detention. It was an honest, brilliant excuse to avoid Harry and Ron. When she arrived at the common room she informed them about her detention, and with an empty promise to talk to them later, headed off towards the dungeons.
*
Hermione's detention was as normal as a detention could be. But it still left Snape feeling somewhat unfulfilled at the end. He didn't know what he had been expecting though. Perhaps a breakdown maybe, where she broke down and confided in.no, he certainly did not want that. What would he have down with a sobbing girl for two hours? He didn't even want to know anything about her seemingly meaningless life. It was just, her dream, or whatever she concluded it.had been very disturbing. It had been so lived and.real. Fortunately for her pride's sake, she had looked pretty normal at first, defiantly not as peaceful as the rest of the sleeping had though. It was not until shortly after the bell had rung that she had started twitching constantly, instead of just occasionally. Just small motions at first, but soon, she was writhing about on the floor, murmuring quiet incoherent sentences. It had shocked him to say the least. And, curious as to what was causing her this pain, he had delved into her mind. He was unsure, reflecting back now, whether he was glad he had or not. Her reluctance to talk about it confirmed his belief that no one else knew. But now, he had brought upon himself this burden. Dumbledore would know what do to. But he was uncertain of whether it was appropriate to bring Dumbledore into the picture in such an early stage. For all he knew, it could have been a one off nightmare.
The way she had spoken about it though, and the way she had looked when she had awoken.as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
He casually wondered if it would be best for the both of them if he simply Obliviated himself. No, he had brought this on himself. If anyone was going to do something.although he had no idea what.it was going to be him. It was now his burden.
Sitting back in his chair he suddenly noticed his bottled, complete Invisibility potion. With the knowledge that he was unlikely to sleep well tonight he swigged down the potion. Tonight was as good as any night to test it out.
Quickly checking himself down, he then strode swiftly out of the dungeons, with the small hope of perhaps catching Potter or his redheaded side kick out of bed. He needed something to lift his gloomy spirits.
*
Picking up the glass of water from her bedside table she padded over to the door of her dormitory, and click the door open.
"Hermione? Is that you?" Lavender yawned.
"Erm.yes, yes it is."
"What are you doing up this late?"
"I'm just going to the toilet." She lied fluently.
Lavender gave a muffled reply and sunk back into the comfort of her bed.
Hermione slipped of the door, down the stairs, and through the portrait hole. She took the first set of stairs to her left this time, heading in the direction of the Charms corridor. She chose an empty classroom at the end of the corridor. The corridor itself led to a dead end, so she doubted any midnight wander would travel in her direction.
Transfiguring a wooden chair into a pillow, Hermione settled herself down on the floor; ready for a rough night ahead of her.
Two days in February
It was a dark and stormy night, the kind of night that makes the lonely feel more alone, and the cold feel even colder. And for someone who felt both lonely and cold, the dismal yet harsh weather did nothing to amend Severus Snape's solemn mood.
He leaned in, lowering his face to fall into the support of his hands, but flinched back almost immediately from his cold skin. He took another sip of coffee, savouring the warmth that then subsequently flooded his body.
After reflection, Severus realised the coffee did nothing but warm his body for only a few meagre minutes, and so, returned to his invisibility potion, hoping the hot stove would heal his body of the numbness.
Fortunately the burly flames soon warmed his body. Although Severus could still feel what felt like a hole somewhere around the area of his heart, he knew nothing as trivial as warmth could cure that.
Upon inspecting his potion, Severus cursed under his breath as he realised he should have added the skin of a Boomslang a good fifteen minutes ago, but had been too preoccupied with marking to remember. He whipped out his wand and distinguished the fire. He reached down ready to depose of the useless potion, but stopped in mid-motion; knowing that the cauldron would be scalding hot, and instead withdrew his wand once again and cast an Evaporation charm. Then he quickly captured the gas in a small container, before deposing of it.
He relit the fire beneath the now empty cauldron, and began work on re- preparing the ingredients. Fatigue catching up on Severus, he nearly sliced off the end of his finger whilst shredding the skin of a Boomslang. Glancing down at his watch he sighed in annoyance, as it simply read 'You should have been in bed hours ago!' He didn't need a watch to tell him that. He looked behind him and checked the muggle clock, which currently read 2:43AM. Sleep would have to wait if he wanted this potion complete by next week, he would have to work on it now.
Taking a few swift strides over to his desk to retrieve his coffee, he then noticed the homework he had yet to finish marking. Severus sighed again, this time, with the uncommon feeling that he was beginning to bite off more than he could chew.
Upon taking in account the name of the pupil of whose homework that lay atop the pile, he plucked his quill from its holder, scratched in a big bold F at the end of The-Who-Who-Should-Have-Died's homework, and then stalked back over to his demanding potion.
*
It was dark. She couldn't see and she was shaking.
There was a faint tapping in the background that was beginning to sound like the tick of a clock.
Due to the darkness, she could not locate the sound of the clock with her eyes, and found it impossible to detect the source with her ears. There were too many other noises. Pounding and yelling and screeching and screaming to soft whispers that soaked the air.
Time felt irrelevant here. Everything seemed to be moving at alternative speeds. Suddenly speeding things up, and then abruptly changing and slowing everything to almost a complete stop. She could feel the ground moving beneath her, as if it was also following the rules of time. She couldn't see anything moving, but she was sure if she could it would only be a mass of blurry colours.
She slid a tentative step forward and stretched her hands out, letting them fumble about in the air for a while. When she was certain that no solid objects were close by she stood dead still. She closed her eyes, concentrating all her energy on her hearing, trying to pick out one of the numerous noises.
A slow, raspy, steady creaking sound distracted her from the other deafening rackets.
Scrunching up her eyes she attempted to ignore all other sounds except for the creaking, aiming to decipher whereabouts it was filtering from.
Without warning, the floor accelerated beneath her and she fell backwards.
When she positive that the floor had seized to complete halt, she forced her eyes open and gasped.
The room, or whatever she had originally been in, was no longer dark, but filled with a few dreary colours, such as browns and greys and blacks. It appeared to be someone's lounge. To her right she could see what would have been a window, swathed by thick, creamy curtains, which were blocking out all light. Although a small lamp, situated beside a musty sofa, was emitting a soft yellow glow.
Propping herself up on her elbows she looked this time to her left, to the source of the creaking sound. Her eyes went wide;, she wanted to scream but nothing seemed to be coming out of her mouth.
A large wooden rocking chair was creating the creaking. It was must have been charmed to rock robotically, because the position of the person in the chair itself ensured her that they certainly weren't rocking it themselves. She wanted to be sick.
It wasn't precisely the position of the figure, more the appearance that disturbed her.
The body was stiff, and very, very pale. Its hands appeared to be in mid- motion; she assumed they had been reaching for their wand. Their were legs positioned as normal, but judging from the wheelchair beside her, it seemed that they had not had much choice in that matter.
Their face was gaunt and pallid, their eyes were wide and white, their icy blue lips in the shape of a scream. Freckles would have over flowed their face, had streams upon streams of dried blood not covered the most part it. As her eyes followed the trails upwards towards the top of their head, she found the source.
A small, but thick bladed silver dagger had been penetrated into the centre of the cranium. Small green emeralds decorated the handle; the dagger itself was half covered in dark blood. Some, having somehow made its way high up the dagger, and the bottom half embedded in the crusty, crimson dried liquid. The auburn hair was hardly noticeable underneath the vast blood nest that the dagger had created. Still, beneath all the blood, the face was still recognizable. It wasn't easy to forget someone like Ron Weasley.
Unexpectedly, the floor lurched, and she was once again plunged into darkness.
*
One long, blood hurtling scream escaped Hermione Grangers mouth. But from somewhere in the deep depths of Hogwarts, nobody was around to hear her.
She lurched upwards into a sitting position, body trembling. Hauling herself up onto the closest chair, she gulped down the glass of water she had prepared beforehand.
She ought to go back to Gryffindor tower soon, but decided to wait for her legs to stop shaking, otherwise she wouldn't even make it out of the classroom without collapsing.
It was hard, keeping up this façade. Hermione knew she couldn't go on like this forever. Soon, someone would notice she never slept in her bed. But waited for the others to fall asleep, then snuck off to a derelict classroom, then lay, in waiting for the nightmares to begin. No, not nightmares, premonitions. At first they emerged as nightmares, but after fourth year.She had dreamt of Cedric's death earlier on in the year, but to discover that her nightmare had become a reality.
Sometimes, she could hear the people dying, but would not get a picture until the ending scene, but she would know they were muggles. It was funny really, she spent half her life at Hogwarts attempting to demonstrate that people like Malfoy were wrong, that muggles were just the same, just as good as Witches and Wizards. Wizards were smarter, more vigilant; they knew to expect the worse. But muggles, they were naïve and stupid, too wrapped up in their own firm beliefs to recognize what was really going on around them. All of her picture-less visions resulted in muggle deaths, each time she would hold in a breath with the fear that it might be her own parents. Finally at the end, when an image came into view, she would always feel relief to some extent.
But now, recently, everyone around her was dying in her dreams. She couldn't look at the people the same. Last week it was Lavender's, that wasn't too bad, nasty, but not disturbing, not as bad as.tonight. But that was all the more reason to stay away from the common room; she couldn't look Lavender in the eye, not without some sort of guilt tying up in her stomach. If she wanted, she could speak to someone, someone who could help her. Then she could help everyone, prevent all their deaths and.
Even in her head it sounded stupid. Who would listen? And how could they help. She doubted there was a potion that could cure this. Everything was getting to be too much, too fast.
Slowly but steadily she hauled herself up to standing position, and gradually made her way back to Gryffindor tower before dawn could arise, and her absence noticed.
*
"Hermione! If you're not down here in one minute we're leaving without you. My stomach's practically digesting itself!"
"Ron, even if your stomach was digesting itself, which I assure you it isn't, you wouldn't be in any immediate danger. With the amount you eat, it could go on for months" Hermione retorted, descending the circular stairs from the girls dormitories.
"Very witty. Now can we please leave? I swear you take longer each day to get ready. I'm already having to stick with one helping of breakfast, I don't have time for any more!"
Harry snorted, and heaved himself out of the plush armchair to join his two friends.
"You could have already gone down for breakfast, Ron; Harry and I have potions first thing and need to collect a potion from Madam Promfrey before class, so I doubt we'll have time"
Ron gave a cry of exasperation, "And you couldn't have told me this earlier because.?"
"You didn't as," she simply replied.
Ron pulled a face and headed off to breakfast alone.
"You ready then?" Harry asked once Ron had left the room.
"Yes," she paused for a moment, "am I taking longer?" She enquired finally.
"Longer?" Harry questioned, confused.
"To get ready in the morning," Hermione explained.
"Oh, never really thought about it really. I suppose."
"Oh. Sorry"
Harry chuckled. "I think Ron's the one you ought to be saying it to, I think he suffers the most."
Hermione smirked, "Me too"
Harry motioned towards the common room exit, "Shall we?"
Hermione nodded a silent reply and they both headed off towards the hospital wing.
*
"Now, are all your potions light blue?" Snape barked impatiently.
Murmurs of "yes's" and nods came from the class.
"As the remaining pair comes up to hand in the rest of your completed potion, you will also collect a Wake-Up potion that I assume you all accumulated this morning, in addition please try to avoid stepping on the sleeping" and as the class remained still and silent, he added, "Well hurry up."
There was a rush of feet and scrapes of chairs as half the class hurried up to the front desk to retrieve an antidote. They had been working in pairs on the Dreamless Sleep potion; consequently, half the class was now in a deep slumber. All except Hermione Granger, whose partner, Pansy Parkinson, hadn't made the potion quite strong enough.
*
It was dark. It was always dark. But it didn't stay dark this time. Suddenly, blurs of vibrant colours splurged her vision. Also, everything was silent. Except for that ticking sound again. Although now, listening harder, it wasn't as sharp as a tick. In fact, it wasn't sharp at all, it was soft. Like a soft padding, or thumping. She couldn't locate an image yet, but her nose was beginning to detect smells. There was a very prominent smell of moss, grass and dew about the air.
The soft padding was increasing in texture. Each single noise was now syncopated with another. It wasn't faster, there was just more of.of whatever was creating the sound.
A loud, rough bark filled the air, and then a mirthless, hollow laugh.
Gradually the blurring faded out, and soon one single picture rapidly formed all around her.
Lucius Malfoy stood large, his aura glowing with power, satisfaction, and pleasure. At his feet one large, shaggy dog stood in attack position. Sirius.
A horrible, gut wrenching uneasy knot formed in the bottom of her stomach as she now saw what had been creating the soft padding.
Hundreds upon hundreds of grey paws padding the wet grass, which could only belong to hundreds of werewolves. Each one was bearing a black expression, as it paced monotonously towards Malfoy.
A quick wave of Malfoys wand and they all came to an abrupt halt, except for one. Which trudged forwards still, further towards Malfoy and Sirius, slowing, and then stopping merely a few metres from them.
She closed her eyes just for a moment, and concentrated on just breathing. Knowing only too well who the lone werewolf would be. And she didn't need to hear Malfoy whisper in his most satisfied voice, "Attack", to know what would shortly unfold.
Sirius leapt forwards, launching at the werewolf, giving it no time to react in any way. He sank his sharp teeth deep into its neck, and with a rip, which made Hermione promptly turn around and violently throw up; the dog had torn the werewolf's head apart from its body.
The last things she heard beneath her heart wracked sobs, were Malfoy uttering "Finite Incanatem", a faint pop, and voice that could only belong to Sirius chock out the word "Remus", before releasing the bile brought up in his throat, and say numbly "Avada Kedavra".
Then all was quiet.
*
Hermione's eyes flew wide and open. Her breathing heavy and jagged. She had to keep gasping in huge gulps of air, but her throat was parched and so the air made it sore.
She couldn't remember where she was, but before any thoughts could be considered she found a glass being pushed harshly into her hand. She sat up immediately and hastily drank the contents.
It was only then that she began to take her surroundings. The first thing she noticed were the dreary, stonewalls, and then memories started flooding back. Potions. Hermione pushed her eyes shut and fell back to laying position. She had been in potions. Snape had partnered her up with that snotty bitch Pansy Parkinson. She was smart though. Somewhere along the line Pansy had managed to con her into testing the Dreamless Sleep potion they had been making. but that didn't make sense.her dream was definitely.dream-full.
"Miss Granger?" Came a voice from somewhere in the room.
She let her eyes flutter open and slowly got to her feet. She suddenly became aware of how empty the classroom was. Beside herself, only Snape was present.
"Where is everyone?"
"They've gone Miss Granger. The bell for break went 20 minutes ago. You, on the other hand, will not be attending break. You will be spending the next hour and a half attempting re-make the Dreamless sleep potion, seeing as you were obviously incapable of making a successful one earlier." Snape answered, curling his lip slightly.
"What?" She couldn't help but blurt out. "Sorry Sir, but why do I have to stay and do it? What about Pansy?"
"Miss Parkinson, I am certain, is capable of what you are not."
"I beg your pardon Sir." She almost snarled.
"I simply mean that I know for a fact that Miss Parkinson is competent in the art of potions making, and it would be very uncharacteristic of her to produce an ineffective potion."
"So you doubt my potion making skills?" Her anger was increasing rapidly, and he was loving it.
"Something like that Miss Granger." Snape smirked and strode back to his desk. "Begin then." He added after she did not move.
"What about class?" She ought to be in Transfiguration now; Harry and Ron would be wondering where she was.
"Already taken care of. I had a few words with Mr Potter a few moments ago, and explained that you may not be awake, or in the right state of mind to participate in your Transfiguration lesson."
"What do you mean? Not in the right state of mind?" Hermione was torn between anger and curiosity. Why was he uncertain of her state of mind? It wasn't like she had been screaming or anything. At least, she didn't think she had. She hadn't woken up screaming like normal.
"I merely assumed that it would be.difficult facing Professor Lupin after your.dream."
Her blood ran cold. "How do you know what I saw?" She asked quietly. Suddenly, for some reason, she could not quite bring herself to look at him.
"Legilimency" Snape said after a small pause.
"Wha-" Hermione began, but cut off quickly. She remembered what Legilimency was.
"You do know what that is Miss Granger?" Snape said silkily.
"Yes," she said defiantly, regaining her composure. "I did not recall it immediately because Harry only really mentioned Occulemency."
Snape scoffed. "Well of course he did. He is hardly going to remember any information that is not directly about himself."
Hermione's eyes flashed with anger but she kept her mouth shut.
"How long have you been having those kind of dreams?" Snape said.
"They aren't dreams," Hermione muttered shortly and began fetching the ingredients to begin the Dreamless Sleep potion again.
"Then perhaps you could inform me upon what they are then," Snape said quite acidly.
Hermione didn't answer, and instead started slicing up some of the ingredients.
"Did you not hear me Miss Granger, or are you simply refusing to answer?"
Steadying and calming her voice she said, "Or maybe, I do not see the point in answering a question to which you obviously do not wish to hear an answer to."
"And what would give you that impression."
"Perhaps your lack of emotion in your voice, or maybe your bored complexion"
"If I were you, I would watch that tongue of yours Miss Granger. In fact you can serve one hour in detention with me tonight, where you can contemplate all possible means of the phrase 'Silent as the grave'.
Hermione bit her tongue hard, dearly wishing to ask Snape to contemplate all possible means of the phrase 'If you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything all'.
"And if," Snape added, "you find yourself in a position where you are too rude to even answer a simple question, then you can begin practicing for tonight right now."
Hermione shut her eyes tightly and ground her teeth together, hard. She pushed her eyes open, determined not to show her seething anger, and kept her eyes down, appearing to be focused on her potion
*
Hermione had not been planning to speak to Ron and Harry until after Dinner. The Dreamless Sleep potion had taken longer than expected, and by the time she had arrived at lunch Harry and Ron had already left. After lunch consisted of double Ancient Runes, so they did not meet until Dinner, where Hermione said that she would tell them all about Potions later.
So this gave Hermione roughly an hour to think up an excuse for why she might be writhing about on the floor, while everything else was sound asleep.
Just as she was leaving the Great Hall, her mind still blank of possible reasons, she literally bumped into Snape.
"Do have to manners to watch where you are walking please," he bit sourly. "I expect to see you in my classroom in fifteen minutes to serve your detention Miss Granger." He added, after noticing who had walked into him, and then stalked off.
Her detention! For the next fifteen minutes, she was almost looking forward to her detention. It was an honest, brilliant excuse to avoid Harry and Ron. When she arrived at the common room she informed them about her detention, and with an empty promise to talk to them later, headed off towards the dungeons.
*
Hermione's detention was as normal as a detention could be. But it still left Snape feeling somewhat unfulfilled at the end. He didn't know what he had been expecting though. Perhaps a breakdown maybe, where she broke down and confided in.no, he certainly did not want that. What would he have down with a sobbing girl for two hours? He didn't even want to know anything about her seemingly meaningless life. It was just, her dream, or whatever she concluded it.had been very disturbing. It had been so lived and.real. Fortunately for her pride's sake, she had looked pretty normal at first, defiantly not as peaceful as the rest of the sleeping had though. It was not until shortly after the bell had rung that she had started twitching constantly, instead of just occasionally. Just small motions at first, but soon, she was writhing about on the floor, murmuring quiet incoherent sentences. It had shocked him to say the least. And, curious as to what was causing her this pain, he had delved into her mind. He was unsure, reflecting back now, whether he was glad he had or not. Her reluctance to talk about it confirmed his belief that no one else knew. But now, he had brought upon himself this burden. Dumbledore would know what do to. But he was uncertain of whether it was appropriate to bring Dumbledore into the picture in such an early stage. For all he knew, it could have been a one off nightmare.
The way she had spoken about it though, and the way she had looked when she had awoken.as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
He casually wondered if it would be best for the both of them if he simply Obliviated himself. No, he had brought this on himself. If anyone was going to do something.although he had no idea what.it was going to be him. It was now his burden.
Sitting back in his chair he suddenly noticed his bottled, complete Invisibility potion. With the knowledge that he was unlikely to sleep well tonight he swigged down the potion. Tonight was as good as any night to test it out.
Quickly checking himself down, he then strode swiftly out of the dungeons, with the small hope of perhaps catching Potter or his redheaded side kick out of bed. He needed something to lift his gloomy spirits.
*
Picking up the glass of water from her bedside table she padded over to the door of her dormitory, and click the door open.
"Hermione? Is that you?" Lavender yawned.
"Erm.yes, yes it is."
"What are you doing up this late?"
"I'm just going to the toilet." She lied fluently.
Lavender gave a muffled reply and sunk back into the comfort of her bed.
Hermione slipped of the door, down the stairs, and through the portrait hole. She took the first set of stairs to her left this time, heading in the direction of the Charms corridor. She chose an empty classroom at the end of the corridor. The corridor itself led to a dead end, so she doubted any midnight wander would travel in her direction.
Transfiguring a wooden chair into a pillow, Hermione settled herself down on the floor; ready for a rough night ahead of her.