Chapter 3
She awoke with a start, wondering what had pulled her from such a deep refreshing rest. Then she noted her window, curtains pulled wide, showed the sun barely managing to keep itself up above the tree tops of the Forbidden Forrest. Funny how her body knew to wake her before all the light was gone. The irony of her particular predicament did amuse her, in a warped sort of way – she was so scared to sleep at night or any time that had the potential to be too dark that her body jolted her awake, and yet, she felt safest when she was down in the dungeons brewing. In Snape's dungeon. Imagine that.
She was, however, thankful it was still summer. That meant longer days and an hour or two of extra sleep, which she had sorely needed. She was refreshed. Amazing what happened after one managed a few hours of sleep. Next time, she would make sure to not let it go so long before she slept again. Two and a half days was just too long. Fortunately her head was much clearer than it had been that morning. Looking back, she was appalled that she had done that to herself, and more importantly, to her work. She could have done some serious damage with her senses as dulled as they had been. Now that she was awake she would just make her way back to the dungeons and get back to work.
Her stomach protested that particular idea. She couldn't place exactly the last time she had eaten either, but she had a sneaking suspicion it had been at least a day. If she didn't stop these poor habits soon, someone was bound to notice. And the last thing she wanted was someone poking around, trying to help. No one could help, and she certainly didn't want to be forced to talk about it. No, it was better for her to keep to herself and try to remember to eat and sleep so she wouldn't look like a zombie.
Checking the time, she noted that the Great Hall would undoubtedly be filled with students for dinner. She may be feeling a bit more sprightly than usual, but by no means was she ready to join that boisterous crowd. Besides, now that she was not officially a student any longer, she wasn't quite sure of her place, wasn't quite sure what she was considered in the castle. Minerva – my, it was odd for her to be Minerva now, not Professor McGonagall – had invited her to join the rest of the professors at the head table, but Hermione wasn't sure if she would truly be welcomed there. Nor did she fit in at the Gryffindor table anymore. She didn't even know any of them by name any more, only by sight from meal time previous years.
No, she would…well she didn't really want to, but it looked as if it was her only other option. She would summon a house elf and – very politely, of course – request a sandwich or some other small snack. Nothing to put them to any extra trouble, of course. Then she would head down to work while the hallways would be nearly empty. It was much easier to traverse the corridors when she didn't have to worry about bumping into so many people.
The one thing she hadn't counted on in her planning was Snape actually being in his dungeon laboratory. Of course he would skip dinner in the Great Hall, avoid the fuss and disorder as she had, and come down to what was obviously his personal sanctuary to brew. If that had been her brilliant idea to escape the masses, why would he not have the same thoughts? She tried, as she usually did these days, to walk softly and keep her head down to avoid notice. Only this time it was to avoid the wrath of a certain professor who was currently scowling over several sheets of parchment. Unfortunately, it didn't work. He saw her creeping toward the back of the room and cleared his throat. The rumors of his bat-like senses were apparently true, because she could have sworn she didn't make a single sound when she entered the room. Yet there he was at the other end of the room glaring.
"Good evening, Professor," she said in response to his throat clearing. Hopefully being polite and succinct would get her to her work with as little conversation as possible.
"Good evening Ms. Granger. I trust you are well rested and not as likely to cause a disaster now?"
Now, the old Hermione, the one that hadn't been so tired even with her constant studying, would have had something to retort. The new Hermione simply gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and replied, "Yes, sir."
This received a raised eyebrow from her former teacher. He hadn't lost his touch at conveying volumes with a single look. Obviously her answer hadn't been nearly reassuring enough for his liking. She made a sort of hopeless looking gesture towards her things tucked in the back corner and asked, "May I?"
She was surprised when he simply gave her a sharp nod. She had expected more of a fight from him, particularly since she was invading his space during time that he, undoubtedly, would have been alone if she had not been there. She sat and began reviewing her notes from the last few days, just to double check her calculations and make sure she truly had been aware enough to do keep her potion progressing how she wanted. As she read, she started to worry.
Her notes were what she remembered writing, but they made no sense! She remembered adding the newt tails before she mixed in the monkshood, not after. And why on earth would she have stirred the mixture seven times clockwise after letting it rest 36 hours, rather than before? Perhaps she really was more out of her mind than she realized. She was quite seriously contemplating more sleep, even though it was fully dark now. Then she noticed her stack of books in the corner was completely out of sorts as well. She knew she had stacked them in just such an order to retrieve certain books more easily than others. Then she noticed Snape sitting there, watching her, and she knew.
She returned his glare, quite happy that he could no longer take points from her or give her detention. She glared and asked, in a cruelly soft voice that almost rivaled his, "Did you go through my things?"
She thought she saw surprise flash across his face before the glare came back out to play. "Of course I did. I had to make sure you weren't doing anything ridiculous or daft in my laboratory."
"You had no right!"
"I had every right," he sneered, "this is my private lab, which I am graciously allowing you to use for your 'research' as you put it. Now I know you're not quite as insipid as most of the dunderheads in the castle, but I cannot simply trust that you say you are not going to cause any damage to my space." He paused while she seethed. It was amazing really, how tinged with red her cheeks were. "And, Ms. Granger, you may want to review your calculations involving those newt tails for your next attempt."
Newt tails? That's all he was going to say? No apology for rummaging? For destroying her order and organization? Urrrgh, he was so exasperating! Now it would take ages to put everything to rights. She spoke once more, trying to remain calm, "Professor Snape, you really had no right to leave my things as you did. I am no longer a student that you can harass and terrorize."
Sweet venom dripped from his voice, "Really Ms. Granger? What are you then?"
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He watched the myriad emotions roll across her face as she processed his question: frustration, anger, embarrassment, anger again, then confusion and hurt – the last left her looking as if all the air had been knocked forcefully out of her lungs. Apparently he had struck a nerve. He watched her eyes mist up, her head dropping to stare at the ground. Very softly, almost too softly she replied, "I don't know." If he didn't have such keen hearing, he probably would have missed it. She sat at her table in the back of the room, her hair creating a shield between herself and the world, her hands tucked in her lap, and he could just make out her teeth worrying her lower lip. There was that look again, the one of utter dejection that had disappeared after she slept. It was back and it was entirely his fault.
No, not his fault. How was he to know that what he said would upset her? No, he just explained that he was trying to keep them both alive and she misconstrued what he said. How was that his fault? No, it was certainly not his fault. He was going to finish reviewing the day's papers and the potions then retire to his quarters. He could only hope he had some Firewhisky remaining. He'd only been back one day, and he already needed a stiff drink. Now that he had no grand role to fulfill, perhaps it was time to think about retiring. Heading back to the house on Spinner's End would finally give him some of that peace and solitude he yearned so much for. All he had to do was find a way to get Minerva to let him go. She certainly wasn't going to let him walk leave the school willingly. There was that little detail about assuaging a guilty conscience for not believing his true loyalty. How she intended to do that by keeping him stuck in the school, he had no idea.
He finally finished his grading and she was still there, sitting in perfect stillness across the room. If he didn't know better he'd think she was a statue, not one of the most voracious students Hogwarts had seen in several decades, if not centuries. He got up and made his way back to where she sat, simply – he told himself – to make sure she didn't have anything brewing that would damage his workspace.
She was sleeping. He couldn't fathom how, seeing as she was propped up on her left hand and her head was lolling forward rather dangerously. He gave a near silent snort as he mentally pictured the bit or drool forming in the corner or her mouth dropping and smudging her notes. She was almost as fastidious as he was, so he could imagine what a disaster that would be for her.
He paused for a moment, considered waking her and sending her off to sleep elsewhere, then decided against it. Perhaps she would wake here in the morning to a classroom full of students on the other side of the door and be too embarrassed to return after everyone saw her sleep rumpled hair and lines on her face. Or perhaps she would decide to sleep more during the conventionally acceptable hours so he wouldn't have to find her all hours of the day or night, as he had early that morning. Either way it would be a lesson worth learning in his eyes. So he waved his want to extinguish the torches in the room, and pulled the door shut as he left.
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Screaming. Someone in the dungeons was emitting an ear shattering shriek, the kind that he remembered only too well from his past. He had been dozing in his quarters when he first heard it, and was convinced he had started to dream. Those sorts of dreams were not as uncommon as he would have wished. Then, as he came fully awake, the screaming continued. And it was close. One step into the hall and he knew it was coming from the laboratory.
He rushed to the lab, concerned that she had managed to explode or melt something after all. He flung the door open and found her huddled under the table, knees to her chest, huddled as small as she could possibly get herself to scrunch.