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Chapter 2
When Hermione awoke, there was no fogginess in her thoughts as was usual with her mornings. She remembered the last few hours with a crystal clarity that only trauma could rouse. She was back in a bed, that much she could tell from the absence of a dull ache in her back. She could hear heavy footsteps move around her surroundings but choose not to open her eyes for fear of what she would see.
"I know you're awake," Snape's cold voice broke through her musings. Her eyes immediately flew open at the sound of the familiar sound.
"Professor?" She croaked as she pushed down on the bed to sit up. They were in a small room that had the bright sun blocked out with hefty curtains in favour of an artificial light that rested on a reading desk. Hermione was lying on a single bed hugging the opposing wall. She took a moment to take in the man in front of her. He hadn't even looked up from his book when she had spoken, preferring to continue reading some heavy textbook. His hair was being held out of his eyes by his right hand that was pressed into his forehead. It was strange seeing the usually domineering man in nothing but muggle jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and it unsettled Hermione more than she'd care to admit. His motionless stance, sitting on the edge of a thread worn stool, illustrated how stressed he was.
"What's going on Professor?" Hermione pressed when he didn't respond promptly. She could practically feel him roll his eyes at her persistence.
"Is it not obvious already Miss Granger?" Snape responded in a bitter tone finally raising his gaze to hers. Dark circles under his eyes were a testament to how long he'd been pouring over the books that were piled on the old reading desk.
"That's just not possible Sir," Hermione responded timidly, swinging her stiff legs over the edge of the bed until they were firmly planted on the creaky floorboards.
"Open your eyes girl, this isn't some dream designed to trap Undesirable Number 2," he answered, it was clear that his irritation was growing. He was in no mood to be dealing with Hermione and she knew it. Squaring her shoulders, she stood slowly and moved to stand over the cantankerous man who had returned to reading his book.
"How do we fix this?" She murmured lowly. Snape sighed, but not as a method to release his bint up annoyance but almost as a sign of defeat. He moved so that his forehead was resting on his two hands. A moment passed before he finally lifted his head to meet her gaze. Some emotion flashed across his face that she couldn't recognise, she briefly wished she'd mastered Legilimency to watch the direction of his thoughts.
"I don't know," he finally responded carefully, his voice losing some of its cruel edge.
"You don't know?" Hermione demanded, not able to supress her exasperation for another moment.
"Falling back in time isn't exactly a common place occurrence Miss Granger," he replied, his sardonic tone once again returning. He stood up abruptly, knocking the stool he'd been resting on in the process and raked his hands through his hair roughly before releasing an angry growl. With one sudden movement he reached out and shoved all the textbooks off the writing desk and onto the floor with a loud thump. The action forced Hermione to jump backwards so suddenly that she hit her shins off the bed and ended up toppling onto the warm sheets.
He paused at the only door into the room turned away from Hermione. She could see from the angle that both of his hands were covering his mouth and he was trying to control his breathing. A few tense seconds passed where all that could be heard was his laboured breathing trying to settle itself into a steady rhythm.
"I need to go into hiding, lock myself away, that way the timeline won't alter itself too much," Hermione declared when she thought it was safe to speak. "Maybe not too much has changed so fa-," she tried to reason but was interrupted harshly.
"Don't choose now to become a fool Miss Granger," he said quietly. Hermione rolled her eyes in the direction of his back, she knew he was right but that only seemed to incense her further. Her brief few moments in the muggle world would change everything, that's how time worked. It wasn't something that could be clinically controlled, it was untameable.
"And what would you suggest, Sir?" She demanded, not completely able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. A pregnant pause filled the room before he turned and met her eyes.
"Hogwarts, we'll go back to Hogwarts," Snape declared clearly, the decision almost seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.
"Sir, you can't be serious!" Hermione exclaimed, her outrage giving her the strength to rise from the bed once more and take the few steps to stand right in front of the man that had always demanded her respect, even if he hadn't strictly earned it through the years.
"Have you ever known me to joke?" Snape replied, rolling his eyes.
"I can't take those risks Sir," Hermione avowed firmly. Snape closed the space between them until he was glaring down at the shorter girl. She didn't let the move intimidate her and stood her ground furiously.
"Oh, I'm sorry Miss Granger, I presumed that I, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and prominent Order member would be deciding how we would proceed. But do continue, I'm sure a teenager would be more than equipped to have the fate of time itself in her hands," Snape snapped bitterly. The authority in his tone seemed oddly matched to his youthful face but somehow, he managed to remain just as daunting.
"I've already had more than enough resting in my hands this past year," Hermione replied, finally allowing the bitterness she felt towards the so called 'leaders of the light' to fill her words with a venom that even shocked her. Snape's eyes snapped to hers, but she broke the connection swiftly, not wanting him to see that side of her.
"I realise that the adults in your life the last few years have been severely lacking," Snape begun slowly, the irritation and anger in his voice had dissipated, leaving the professional professor she had often seen him become when the golden trio were absent from a scenario. "But this is truly the best move for us, we need those resources not to mention the library," his voice was smooth and for the first time since she woke in the muggle hospital she didn't feel so alone. Something however, wasn't adding up in her mind.
"You know something," Hermione pressed curiously. Snape's expression remained unaltered, but the thought wouldn't leave her mind. "Don't you?" She accused.
"Believe me Miss Granger, if I did, it isn't exactly my number one priority to share it with you," Snape replied, his cold tone returning. Bending down he grabbed one of the scattered books on the floor and handed it to her. She took it instinctively.
"Read," he commanded simply, before leaving the bedroom and closing the door firmly behind him. Hermione growled angrily under her breath before bringing the heavy book closer to her.
The Art of Occlumency
…
A few hours past which Hermione spent pouring over each page of the comprehensive textbook. Her eyes had long since become tired, but she persevered. Professor Snape may not feel the need to share all his information with her, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of justifying the unjust censorship. With the domineering man absent she was finally able to take stock of her injuries without the worry of appearing weak. It was clear that Snape had done something to take the ache from her joints away, but she could still feel the weariness in her mind weigh on her. He had bandaged the hand that she had roughly removed the IV from and even applied bruise salve to where he'd gripped her wrists too determinedly. It just proved to her that he had yet to lose the responsibilities that teaching had encouraged. She couldn't help the sorrow that enveloped her when she noticed the weighty bandage that covered the marking on her arm. It seemed that somethings couldn't be fixed, at least not with the wave of a wand or some fancy potion.
Hermione was so engrossed in the book that when the door of the room opened she couldn't help the startled yelp that she released. Her eyes immediately sought out the visitor and her entire body froze when it wasn't Severus Snape that stood in the doorway but a thin, meek looking woman with dark hair. Her dark eyes were undoubtedly familiar, and it didn't take Hermione more than a mere moment to determine that this was Eileen Snape.
"Hello?" Hermione questioned more than greeted. She had no idea if the older woman had even known that she was residing in her son's room for the day.
"Hello," Eileen replied, her dark eyes studied Hermione intensively until moving to the pile of books that rested on the floor. "Severus has been absent most of the evening," she continued while taking a step into the room. Although the woman seemed docile in nature there was something scrupulous about the way she spoke.
"Oh," Hermione replied ineloquently, clearly out of her depth.
"He did however mention that you would be staying here for the time being," Eileen stated with a Slytherin suspicion clear in her eyes. Although not a pretty woman there was something elegant in the way she moved into the room and sat delicately on the old stool that her son had earlier knocked to the ground. She crossed her legs and placed her hands confidently by her sides, she was clearly waiting for Hermione to reply.
"Did he now?" Hermione deflected, praying that Snape would return some time soon.
"Indeed," she confirmed as she smoothed out her plain grey dress that looked like it had seen better days. "I'm also aware that he must have been quite desperate to set you up here," she continued casually lifting her gaze from her ministrations to study the younger girl in front of her.
"Listen Mrs Snape, I'm really not trying to impose on-," Hermione began, finally conceding to the woman line of questioning.
"You see Severus, really doesn't like bringing people here. There's no getting around the fact that my husband is a chronic alcoholic, and not the jolly kind," she spoke easily, as if they were discussing nothing more than the weather. Eileen studied Hermione's reaction to her words with an openly appraising glance. "But then you already knew that, didn't you?" She pressed further.
Hermione dropped her head to stare at her ratty jeans that had seen more action the past year than they were designed for. She hoped that the articulate woman would continue the one-sided conversation, there was no way that Mrs Snape wouldn't be able to spot a lie.
"I know it's not romantic. Merlin knows he's been pining after that red head down the street since he was barely able to talk," Eileen pushed forward in her nonchalant manor. "And no one that depends on my son is looking for handouts, they would know better," she persevered languidly. Hermione nodded tamely, afraid to give anything away to the noticeably perceptive woman. A few moments passed where both woman remained silent.
"So only one question remains," she surmised nonchalantly. "How much trouble are you and my son in exactly?" She elaborated with an expression that reminded Hermione of the times she'd been caught sneaking ice-cream by her mother. That same tired maternal look that could only be projected by a weary parent. With those dark eyes so full of astute understanding directed at her, Hermione couldn't supress the last few days any further. The sobs didn't start quietly, they were fierce and uncontrollable. Her whole body shook aggressively with every shuddering breath she drew.
Eileen didn't approach her, which made Hermione beyond grateful. She just allowed her to continue her exhausting tirade of emotion until eventually she quietened substantially. Hermione stared at the book in her arms emptily finally allowing herself to feel the stress of the day.
"I'll run a bath then," Eileen said gently, rising to stand gently. "Tobias shouldn't be home for a few hours," she added to the younger girl, as if this was a fact that was worth knowing. Hermione guessed from the stories she'd heard that it was indeed important.
…
Hermione soaked in the bath for what felt like hours. The bandages that Snape had applied peeled off easily when they met the water. The bandage covering Bellatrix's mark also came off with little resistance. The yellow iodine colour was a testament to the muggle doctors attempts to close the wound. It glared angrily at her, the fiery letters filling her vision violently. Roughly Hermione pushed her arm into the water until the bath water diluted the yellow dye and dried blood.
She knew she needed to get herself together. Crying in front of Eileen had been unwise, it had all but confirmed everything the older woman had suspected. Impulsively Hermione dropped her head under the now murky water. She opened her eyes wide and stared at the pattern the light made as it hit the surface of the water. Opening her mouth, she allowed the water to fill it completely and just lied still for a moment. The only sounds she could hear was that of her own body, that familiar steady pumping of blood maintaining her life. She allowed the thought of staying in that position to flitter across her mind for a mere moment before she shot out of the water.
Hermione spat out the water that had entered her throat and inhaled the air rich with oxygen hungrily. She shook her head angrily. She noted bleakly that this was not the time for dramatics before she reached for the brown bottle of shampoo that rested on the edge of the bath and squeeze a small amount onto her tender scalp directly. She massaged her scalp lightly, very much away of the hits it had taken not just from Snape's interrogation but also every time she'd been throw around during the battle.
Feeling cleaner than she had for the last few months she stood and wrapped a towel around herself. Eileen had been kind enough to loan her a nightdress and even wave her wand over Hermione's clothes to clean them and repair what could be fixed. The action had Hermione long for her own wand, which she was sure Snape had put away when she'd collapsed. She dressed into the nightdress quickly leaving her hair in the towel as a problem for some other time. Without a brush it was a senseless worry anyway.
After draining the bath, she headed back into the bedroom slowly, nervous of who she might meet in there. Severus Snape sat on the bed with his back pressed against the wall. A book rested in his lap, but he closed it when she entered the room. He waved his arm towards the seat he had knocked over earlier. Hermione belatedly noted that all the books that had been strewn across the floor were in a neat bundle on the reading desk now.
"You've met my mother," Snape stated more than asked. Hermione nodded back once in response, too tired to stir an argument with the man. Snape reached for something on the bedside table before throwing it in her direction. She caught it on instinct. It was a dark brown glass jar. She opened it hesitantly, it was a white paste that Hermione didn't have to smell to recognise as bruise salve.
"Thanks," she muttered lowly.
"It won't work on that cut of yours," Snape confirmed almost gently.
"I know," Hermione replied with a sigh. Snape nodded back, his eyes unreadable. He rose from the bed slowly and grabbed his book. Hermione couldn't quite make out the title from this angle.
"I'll leave you to rest, the coach downstairs is pull-out so don't worry about being a nuisance," Snape mentioned, something about his words gave the impression of being rehearsed however and Hermione knew instantly that the message was from Eileen more than Severus. She couldn't supress the small smile that pulled at her lips, Eileen was so uncomfortable with words of kindness that she'd rather not be attached to them. It reminded her of Snape throughout the years too strongly not to be amusing.
"And what of tomorrow?" She muttered before she could help herself. Snape eyed her with that hidden expression he wore so often.
"Tomorrow you learn Occlumency," he responded simply before approaching the door forcing Hermione to side step. Something inside Hermione deeply protested his actions however.
"Are you to read for the night then?" She probed once more. He froze with his hand on the door handle. He nodded his head once in response clearly frustrated with the questions. "The light it here is good for reading and won't bother me," she commented lightly, she cringed at her own words. She had slept near Harry and Ron for so long that the idea of being alone in the unfamiliar room worried her more than she'd ever care to admit.
"Here?" Snape inquired, disbelief clear in his tone. He turned to face her slowly, releasing the handle.
"Sure," Hermione responded weakly, colour flooding her pale cheeks. In that moment she knew he recognized the nervousness and embarrassment decorating her expression.
"I suppose lifting those books downstairs would be a pointless exertion of energy," he responded in a cold tone. Hermione felt the relief flood her system. They both knew exactly what she was asking, his decision to play along to her pathetic excuse was more than she'd expected from the man, but then again, he'd always been one for hidden charity. She nodded her head briefly before moving towards the bed.
Settling herself in for the night Hermione turned to face the wall to reduce the awkwardness they were both feeling. She could hear him open the book and find his page swiftly while pulling the stool closer to the desk. Hermione was positive that there was no way she'd find sleep that evening but somewhere between Snape's even breathing and the turn of a page she drifted off into Morpheus's gentle embrace.
…
Hermione was holding on the Dragon's cold scales as tightly as she was able, but she could feel her grip begin to weaken. The night was stormy, and her hair was blowing into face, obscuring her vision. They were chasing her and were catching up no matter how fast the white dragon beat his enormous wings. Soon she'd be back in the drawing room peering into Draco Malfoys' lost eyes as Bellatrix Lestrange carved her arm to pieces. Would it be so bad if she fell? She'd hit the ground and they'd never touch her.
"Granger," Hermione could hear her wicked voice call from behind her. She couldn't hold on any more, by now she was only gripping onto the grooved structure of the Dragon with one arm. She dangled in the air as finger by finger she became closer to falling. She'd be free at least, she considered briefly.
"Hermione," she heard once more, she just had time to note that the voice didn't seem to fit quite right with Bellatrix Lestrange before she was plummeting to the ground. Her scream permeated the wind but seemed to be lost forever in the rough night.
Hermione eyes flew open and met the dark gaze of Severus Snape. A loud noise was disrupting her eardrums painfully, slowly she realised that she was screaming. Snapping her mouth shut she inhaled sharply to calm herself. Snape's fingers were digging into her arms and she was sure he had been shaking her. Pushing herself up in the bed she felt him release her.
"Oh God," she moaned as she began to realise where she was.
"It was a dream," Snape's deep voice pierced the loneliness of the night. Hermione nodded but her breathing didn't seem to want to return to a steady pace. Every breath seemed to shake her entire body, what little oxygen she was taking in seemed to offend the pounding in her head. Tardily she seemed to realise that she was hyperventilating, the realisation did little to combat the situation however. Soon black spots seemed to encroach on her vision.
"Miss Granger you need to calm down," Snape spoke slowly. "I don't have any calming potion here," he continued matter-of-factly, even in Hermione's incapacitated state however, she could feel how uncomfortable he was with this situation. She wanted to stop, to push him away from where he perched on the bed beside her and insist that she was fine, but she couldn't catch her breath. 'Is this how I die?' She thought hazily. The thought only seemed to panic her further. Suddenly someone was gripping her small hands with one big hand.
"Breath with me," Snape demanded, speaking clearly over her loud exploits. Hermione locked eyes with his dark ones and tried her best to listen to his exaggerated slow breathing. A few moments passed where, with a great effort on Hermione's part, she managed to stretch her breathes until she was matching his. The air in her lungs seemed to force her senses to return to her. Her eyes left Snapes and travelled down until she was studying the fierce grip that both her hands had on his arm. Wholly embarrassed she immediately let go of his arm and backed up in the bed until she was sitting with her back against the wall.
"Sorry Sir, I swear that's never happened before," she murmured weakly, feeling the ache in her throat that she quickly put down to the screaming she had done in her dreams. Snape rose from the bed slowly.
"It's called a panic attack Miss Granger, and if you don't deal with whatever's going on in that head of yours this won't be your last," Snape replied firmly, reaching out he flicked on the lamp on the writing desk. This gave Hermione her first real look at the man that night. He was wearing a loose yellow t-shirt and shorts. It was exceptionally odd for Hermione to see him in such casual attire, she was so used to his dark billowing robes. As he reached up and placed both his arms on top of head to push the dark hair out of his eyes, exposing his bare stomach in the process, he looked the age of his body for the first since they returned to this time. His words finally registered to her.
"How to you suggest I deal with last night Professor?" She demanded irately, losing some of her earlier embarrassment.
"Occlumency will help," Snape replied dismissing the emotions in her voice easily. Reaching towards the desk once more he opened a drawer that she hadn't even noticed. From it he withdrew both their wands. "Here," he said as he handed her Bellatrix's ill-fitting wand. She couldn't help the shudder that travelled up her spine at the feel of the wand in her hand.
"That's not your wand," Snape stated as he studied her expression. Hermione shook her head jerkily but didn't release the wand, it was better protection than nothing. Hermione could feel Snape's curiosity, no doubt wondering who she had bested to retrieve the wand. She knew if he had just studied the wand a little further he'd have placed it eventually, and couldn't help but feel grateful that he'd handed it straight to her. She could do without the questions.
"Put it down for now," he stated easily. Without question Hermione slowly dropped the wand to rest on the pillow beside her. "Learning this subject is never easy Miss Granger, but to keep our secrets it is imperative," Snape explained clearly. She nodded weakly, knowing from the stories Harry had told her that what was coming next would be by no means pleasant.
"Clear your mind Miss Granger," Snape commanded with authority.
Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter, it means a lot. Thanks very much and have a very merry Christmas.
