Pstibbons: Thanks. : ) Ummm . . . Keogh?
Makaem:
Yes, Hermione would be in 'The Book'. She would be listed as the
founding member at this point. Yes, who her parents are would be
listed, but -- hah, bet you knew there'd be a but. LOL -- my theory
is that these books, not having any kind of contact with bodily
fluids of any sort with the people they are tracking, would not be
completely accurate if the memories of the people involved (at the
time of recording or updating) are not also accurate. Hence,
Hermione's parents being listed as the Grangers. There would be no
maiden name listed for Mrs. Granger, as she had no clue what her
maiden name would have been -- or would have been listed as the one
she chose for herself before she married, as at that point, that was
as much her name as any name she may have been born with. As to her
father, it could have quite possibly been blurred or listed as
unknown when she was born, but as Mrs. Granger and Hermione's hearts'
belief of the man as her father, whether birth or not, grew so would
the 'magic' surrounding that kind of thing. Faith, in whatever form,
can be a powerful thing. : ) Hope that helps. And Thanks! You really
made me think that all the way through.
xxxxxxxxxx
Chapter
Four
xxxxxxxxxx
It didn't take Hermione long to find Professor Snape with the help of the Marauders Map. Harry had loaned it to her, under a little protest, wanting to come with her. Ron hadn't been any better. Even now, she wasn't quite sure just how she had managed to ditch the two boys, she just knew they really couldn't be there when she confronted Professor Snape. Somehow, she thought their presence just might make an already tense situation even worse.
The map led her to a part of the dungeons she had never been to before and she had a sneaking suspicion she was standing outside the professor's private chambers. It almost made her change her mind; almost made her decide to wait until tomorrow to ask for answers. She shook the temptation off. She had to know what the professor knew. She couldn't wait. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if she did.
Before she lost her courage, Hermione pounded on his door, shifting nervously from side to side as she waited for him to answer . . . if he was going to answer.
The door was suddenly wrenched open and she jumped.
The professor glared, sneering at her. "What do you want?" he snarled.
"How did you know my mother, Professor?" she asked, the question coming out relatively politely, considering the bite that had been in Professor Snape's voice. Being extra polite was the only way she was going to get any information at all, she knew that all too well.
"You are the luckiest little girl in this school tonight, Miss Granger," he sneered, his lip curling even as he backed up a single step, impatiently waving her into the room.
Hermione gasped. "H-how c-can you say that?" she asked in outrage, striding three angry steps forward and whirling back around to face him. She'd just lost her parents! In no way could that be labeled as 'lucky'.
Now his sneer morphed into a smirk as he slammed the door shut. "Because I am just inebriated enough not to care, overly much, that you have impertinantly invaded my personal space and are using up my precious, very limited, spare time."
Oh! Pausing a moment to digest that. She should have added that to her calculations when she was deciding what to do. Damn! Too late now, though, she thought and repeated her question, her voice still quiet, barely above a whisper, all her anger bleeding away in an instant. She really wanted to know, had to know actually. Curiosity was beginning to eat her alive.
His face darkened and he stared at her in silence for so long that she was sure he wasn't going to tell her.
She sagged in disappointment, turning to leave. She would just have to find out somehow else.
"I was--" His words stalled and she froze midstep, then slowly turned back around. "She and I--" He let out a huff, looking incredibly frustrated.
Hermione knew the feeling. Oh, boy, did she know it well!
"We dated," he finally said, flatly.
Hermione's mind went blank. She just stared. She could in absolutely no way process this new information.
"Umm, what?" she asked, the only words she could force out.
"You heard me, you daft child! I will not repeat myself."
Hermione nearly giggled. She could almost hear the petulant 'and you can't make me'. She very quickly took a deep breath and held it. She would get blasted out of the room -- possibly the school -- if she lost it now.
"You dated," she returned just as flatly as he had delivered the information, neither believing nor disbelieving. Then, her eyes widened in horror, a rather nauseating though occurring to her, the words and timing of her story to the two professors suddenly coming back to haunt her. "When?" she demanded.
He just stared at her, his black eyes seeming to penetrate to her soul.
"When did you date my mother?" she demanded again.
"It's--" he began after several eternal moments, his voice sounding strangled, "--possible."
She blinked. That didn't answer her question!
Yes, it did, the tiny voice of her conscience taunted her, not the one you asked out loud, perhaps, but the one you were worried about, nonetheless.
"Prove it!" Hermione demanded angrily, recklessly.
"Why you blasted, cheeky, little insufferable know-it-all! Are you bloody well calling me a liar?" he demanded incredulously.
"I'm call you drunk. I'm calling you m--" Her anger abruptly derailing into a touch of fear, she cut off her own tirade. "Actually, I would like to know for sure, before I finish that," she said, sounding surprisingly calm, even to her own ears.
Snape sneered again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, even more than normal. "And just how do you propose we do that?"
That was it. As easy as that she was angry again. "You know as well as I do that there's a potion for that!" she snapped.
"Oh, really," he snarled, stepping closer. "And just what was the perfect Gryffindor Granger doing looking up paternity potions for? Get yourself into a spot of trouble and not know which one of your irresponsible friends was the culprit?"
"No!" she denied hotly. "I'm-- Not that it's any of your business, but I brewed it for a friend."
"Some friends you've chosen."
"Look to your own house, Professor," Hermione snapped, angry with his continued condescension. "It was a bloody Slytherin that refused to take responsibility for his actions!"
That seemed to derail the professor, obviously not having expected that.
She smirked, but her expression changed quickly as Professor Snape finished closing the distance between them in two short strides, not stopping until he was well within her personal space. He sneered down at her, using his height to his full advantage. "You brewed it?" he snapped out.
"Yes!"
"You're lucky you didn't screw up your so-called friend's life. That potion is complex."
"Not as difficult as polyjuice," she snapped back, too far gone in her growing outrage to truly realize just what she was saying.
His smirk was back, triumphant and evil. "Well, we all know how well you did with that particular potion, don't we?" he sneered down at her.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You botched your pathetic attempt at polyjuice, simple as that."
"I did not!" she denied hotly.
"Then how do you explain a week spent in the infirmary as a human sized cat?"
"Wrong hair," she mumbled, then rallied. "It worked perfectly for--" She clamped her mouth shut before she could do more harm than she already had.
Snape pounced. "Potter and Weasley!" he crowed. "I knew they had to be mixed up in that. Who did they turn into?" he demanded, eyes afire with unholy glee.
Wondering how on earth they'd managed to get this far off the subject, renewed panic coursing through her, Hermione lifted her chin and stubbornly kept her mouth closed. She'd already blabbed far too much tonight. He wasn't getting anything more out of her.
He scoffed. "Go back to your room, Miss Granger," he said sourly. "This is--"
"Don't you want to know?" she whispered, desperately afraid he was going to send her away without knowing the truth.
"That is immaterial, Miss Granger. I--"
"How can it be immaterial!?"
"Do not intrrupt me!"
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"As I informed you earlier, I am in no condition to be brewing this evening. I--"
"I could do it," she said quickly, nearly cringing when she realized she'd interrupted him again, wondering how she'd managed to get this far without losing every single house point that Gryffindor had earned this year. The professor must be as off center about this situation as she was -- either that or alcohol really mellowed the man.
He just stared at her, looking, for the first time in Hermione's recall, visibly torn. It hit her then, he really did want to know, possibly just as much as she did. He simply hid it better. He hadn't just been brushing her off with an excuse when he'd claimed to be 'in no condition'.
She agreed, frankly. Potion brewing could be dangerous if the brewer wasn't careful, sometimes even when the brewer was. All it took, depending on what was being brewed, was one little mistake and whoosh, no more brewer.
Carefully, quietly, she spoke, trying to convince him. "I really can do it, Professor. Besides," she added thoughtfully, "you'd be there, watching every step of the way. You might not be up to brewing it this minute, but I'm sure that even if you were dead drunk, you would still be able to supervise." She paused, watching her inebriated professor very closely.
She almost smiled when she realized he was pleased at her assesssment -- hiding it, but pleased nonetheless. Frankly, she was proud of herself for noticing the subtle signs. Of course, she was under no illusions that she would have seen anything had he been stone cold sober. "Please?" she added.
Hermione knew the moment the professor relented. There was just the slightest softening of his expression. She would have missed it if she hadn't been watching him so closely. He nodded just after it, confirming her deduction.
"Very well, Miss Granger. You will have one chance."
"Thank you!" she exclaimed, just barely holding in an excited bounce. She really didn't think it would go over well if she let it loose.
He glared at her, his dark eyes even more intent than usual. "The very moment you do not listen, Miss Granger, this foray into graduate potions is over, without recourse," he told her firmly, then demanding, "are we clear?"
"We're clear, Professor, as crystal," she replied, trying to school her expression to seriousness, but not quite succeeding. She was simply too excited. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if she didn't know she could do it. She had already brewed it once, after all.
Her conscience merely scoffed, not bothering to berate her denial.
xxxxxxxxxx
Chapter Five
xxxxxxxxxx
Hermione watched silently, nerves screaming at her, as she watched the potion she'd just finished brewing cool. Ten minutes more and she would know, they both would know. Frankly, she was torn in about six different directions. Part of her really wanted to potion to come up negative; having a living, breathing, present biological father almost seemed like a betrayal to the man she'd grown up knowing as a father. A larger part of her, however, wanted it to be true; though, her common sense screamed at her for that too. This was Professor Snape, after all.
Her social life was already almost nonexistant. What would happen if-- when the school found out she was Professor Snape's daughter? Would the other students shun her even more? What would Harry and Ron say? To heck with that! she thought impatiently. They'd come around eventually. The really big sticking point was; would the professor try to tell her she couldn't associate with them any more? She worried her lip as she continued to wait. She was actiually worried about that one a little bit, not that his doing so would actually stop her from being their friend. It would just make for a completely miserable 7th year.
Okay, that possibility goes in the con column.
Oh, but wouldn't it be fun to rub Malfoy's nose it it?
And that will take the number one slot in the pro column! she thought in glee, then laughed at herself. Like her mental list of pros and cons would accomplish anything. Either he was her father or he wasn't. Whether she wanted it to be true or not, had no bearing on the situation what-so-ever. Another glance at the timer had her sighing deeply, the phrase, 'a wtached pot never boils' coming immediately to mind. Still nine minutes to go, one less than the last time she'd checked.
She glanced at the door Professor Snape had left through and smirked to herself. The professor had taken a soberup potion the moment they'd arrived in his private lab. Unfortunately, the soberup and hangover potions couldn't be taken together; ironic that. The moment they had set the potion to cooling, he had strode out of the lab -- after admonishing her to touch nothing, of course -- to take the hangover potion, she presumed. It was either that or a simple headache curative. Either would work, she imagined, since he'd been drinking tea by the litre while she'd worked.
Of course, he could simply have needed to use the loo, all things considered. She almost laughed at the thought. She certainly would have been floating if she'd drank as much tea as he had.
Hermione jumped as the timer went off. She debated with herself for about ten seconds. He had said not to touch anything. Unfortunately, he wasn't back yet and the potion needed to be filtered and decanted. That couldn't wait very long or the potion would be ruined and they'd have to start over. She waited another five seconds before deciding to get yelled at for 'touching anything' rather than get yelled for allowing the potion to be ruined and wasting ingredients.
The filters and vials were already set up and waiting. She eyed them hesitantly, for only a moment longer before jumping up and beginning the second to last step in the brewing.
She was just finishing up when the professor hurried through the same door he left by. She jumped, tense, when the door slammed behind him. She mentally cringed as she stepped back from the freshly decanted vials, waiting for the yelling to start.
"Good," he said firmly, not bothering to look at her, surprising her.
She almost grinned, until she remember he just might take back his tacit approval if she did.
"Work up a good mouthful of saliva, Miss Granger," he ordered. "We'll need a 1/4 teaspoon."
I know, she thought. I just brewed this three weeks ago, but didn't say. "Yes, Sir," she replied dipolmatically, instead. One had to learn diplomacy just to get out of potions class without losing an outrageous number of house points. She had yet to go an entire week without losing any, but at least, now that she was in a class without Neville -- or Ron for that matter -- she was no longer losing them every single class.
The professor collected her spit and placed it carefully in the first vial, setting the timer immediately. She watched him as he collected his own, waiting until her timer had only 30 seconds left then placed it in the second vial, setting another timer. While they waited, he set out a strip of specially made double thick parchment steeped in werster bile.
Getting really restless now, she was very glad they only had to wait 60 seconds before beginning the final step. If it was any longer, she thought she might be in real danger of going mad. Her timer went off -- 30 seconds left on the professor's. He immediately poured four drops onto the strip.
They locked gazes for a split second when his timer went off.
She watched intently as he poured four drops from his vial onto the same strip.
Now they must wait -- again.
Hermione's mouth was extraordinarily dry and she really wished she had some of that tea the professor had been drinking. Nervous energy hummed through her and she began finding it very difficult to sit still. She fought against the urge to fidget, however, knowing full well that the professor would find it highly annoying.
Black means negative, powerblue means positive, she thought, reminding herself of what she already knew, now biting her lip in anticipation. She started tapping her foot impatiently, stilling it the moment she realized what she was doing. She stole a quick, covert glance at the professor before snapping her eyes back to the strip. There was no change, yet.
How long is this bloody going to take!?
She made another quick, stolen glance and was glad she could tell that he was nervous also, his entire body one tense line. He certainly hides it better than I do, she thought, a touch resentful of that fact. If she hadn't know better she would have been willing to swear he didn't care about the outcome one way or the other.
Suddenly, the strip started darkening and Hermione almost laughed as they both leaned closer, the move so simultaneous as to look choreographed. Ten seconds later they were both staring at the powder blue strip in stark disbelief.
She was Professor Snape's daughter. He was her father.
Wow! was all she could think. Slowly she raised her eyes as she dared her first full look at the wizard.
The professor was already staring at her intently, his expression completely unreadable. What did he really think of the whole thing?
Some devilish portion of her grabbed hold of her voice and ran away with it. "Does this mean I get to call you Dad?" she asked, her eyes widening almost immediately, panic setting in as she realized what her mouth had done while her brain was too busy being gobsmacked.
The professor eyes narrowed dangerously, and his mouth tightened into a thin, unforgiving line. "Not in clasee," he snapped suddenly, sharply, then spun on one heel and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Ummm, okay," Hermione said to the now empty room, then it dawned on her exactly what he'd said. She blinked several times, staring blankly at the firmly closed door, her brain processing his words. "Wait a minute!" she exclaimed. "Does that mean I can call you that outside of class?"
Of course, no one answered, the room was still empty aside from her.
"The next big question, absent professor, is whether or not I'm allowed to tell anyone."
The moment the words were out of her mouth, the door slammed back open--
Does he go anywhere without slamming doors?
--and Professor Snape swooped back into the room, trademark flaring of his robes included.
"Can I tell anyone?" she blurted. It took her several seconds to realize he'd asked a related question.
"Do you want anyone to know?"
She stiffened, pulling herself up to her full height, as unimpressive as that was. "I'm not ashamed," she replied firmly, chin jutting out stubbornly, challengingly, virtually daring the wizard to say that he was. Inside, however, she was trembling, deeply afraid he was going to do just that.
"You may tell whomever you wish," he replied quietly.
She grinned instantly. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, jumping forward before she thought and impulsively hugged the stern professor . . . her father. Her eyes widened instantly, her jaw dropping and she hastily stepped back, moving away before he could respond, either to return the unexpected affection, or to push her away. She suspected the latter was far more likely.
"Oh!" she gasped, darting for the door before he could remember that he could still take points for presumption, father or not.
"Are you going to?" he asked, freezing her in place, her hand on the door knob. "Tell anyone," he explained when she turned a puzzled look his direction.
She grinned, ducking her head as an unexpected shyness stole over her. She nodded once and flung open the door and scurrying to safety. She missed the split second smile that twitched up one corner of her normally stern potions professor's mouth.
She was half way back to Gryffindor tower when she abruptly switched directions. She was simply aching to tell the boys, but there was someone else who deserved to know, who deserved to know first. If her head of house -- stern and strict demenor or not -- was anything like her, the witch was probably plotting six different ways to discover the story behind Professor Snape's actions and words at the muggle morgue.
The blast of pain at that thought stopped her cold, tears immediately clouding her vision. It took several deep breaths before she could begin thinking clearly again. The moment she did, she sent up a quiet message, hoping it would be heard and accepted. "I love you, Daddy, and I always will," she whispered, "and I hope you understand," she added, truly hoping she wasn't betraying his memory by all this. "Mum, I don't know if you can hear me, but I hope I can find out what happened to you."
Feeling just a little bit better, her grief once again tucked away inside her, Hermione hurried forward. It really didn't take long to reach McGonagall's office. She paused before knocking, not really sure the witch would be there. It was late, after all. She hoped she was. Hermione really didn't think she would be as lucky if she tracked a second professor back to their private quarters.
"If she's not here," Hermione promised, "I'll just tell Harry and Ron first and tell her tomorrow, first thing." That settled, she knocked on the door. To her relief the professor answered almost immediately, though, she was obviously surprised to see Hermione there.
"Miss Granger!" she exclaimed, her expression instantly worried. "Is something wrong?"
Suddenly, Hermione found herself without her voice and simply shook her head quickly. She cleared her throat and tried a second time. "I just had a long talk with Professor Snape. Do you have a moment?"
McGonagall's eyes widened. "By all means, Miss Granger. Come in, Child."
TBC
Kiristeen ke Alaya
Feedback: It's
craved!
