Chapter Four
A Conversation the Headmistress Didn't Want to Have at All
"So…" said McGonagall thoughtfully, shooting a quick glance at the two people in front of her. She rifled through a stack of papers on her desk, frowned and stopped.
It was early in the morning, and from what McGonagall had heard from Madam Pomfrey, both Snape and Hermione had slept peacefully through the night.
A ray of sunshine shone through one of the windows in the Headmistress' office, the light falling over McGonagall's desk and her slightly shaking hands. She quickly hid them in her lap. How many times hadn't she been sitting in this very office herself, waiting, and often nervously, for Albus Dumbledore to share news and information with her? She looked at his picture on the wall. But as per usual, the former Headmaster was fast asleep and of absolutely no help to her.
McGonagall's eyes trailed to Hermione, and she watched the girl anxiously fiddling with the hem of her robes. Snape sat completely still, waiting. McGonagall met his eyes briefly, then tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
McGonagall opened her mouth again, but the words kept escaping from her. She wasn't as eloquent as Albus, had never been, and although much could be said about the late Headmaster, in situations like these, he had been unsurpassable
"Professor," said Hermione suddenly, breaking the silence. "What is going on?"
McGonagall exhaled. "Well, Miss Granger, Severus," she said, nodding to Hermione, then turning her head towards Snape, giving him a nod as well. "There have been some complications." She swallowed quietly. "It seems as if … you two have been connected to each other."
Hermione's mouth fell open. "What?" she said shrilly, gripping the chair arms. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm not sure how to—"
"Connected?" Hermione interrupted. "How is that even possible?"
"If you would just let me explain," said McGonagall, faltering.
"But how?" Hermione continued relentlessly, her voice strained. "Is it like… like a bond?"
"Maybe not quite like a bond," said McGonagall. "But almost."
"No!" spat Snape. "There is absolutely no resemblance between whatever this—he gestured angrily between himself and Hermione—is, and a true bond." He glared at McGonagall. "I have some experience in that particular area, if you care to remember."
"Of course," said McGonagall quickly. "Severus is right. It's not a bond, per se. Not like the ones I'm assuming you are thinking of, Miss Granger?" She looked at Hermione over the rim of her horned-rimmed glasses.
"I-I only know two types of bonding charms," said Hermione, shaking her head disbelievingly. "The Bond of Blood charm and the Unbreakable Vow."
Snape scoffed.
"What?" snarled Hermione, turning to Snape.
"Two very good examples, indeed," said McGonagall hurriedly, shooting Snape a disapproving look. "The difference is that this connection has been forced upon you. Through a curse. A tandem curse to be specific. A bond, in most cases, requires consent."
Snape sank back into his chair. "A tandem curse," he muttered.
Hermione opened her mouth, but McGonagall put a hand up, silencing her. "Let me finish."
"It seems that you triggered a trap of sorts when you restored the wards. It was obviously meant to hurt a much larger crowd. I can't imagine what kind of damage it would have done if it had been set off during the final battle …" McGonagall trailed off.
"As opposed to the insignificant amount of damage it actually did do," drawled Snape, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
"You know that's not what I meant, Severus," said McGonagall, feeling very tired all of a sudden.
Hermione closed her eyes. "I still don't—"
"What exactly are the complications?" Snape cut off.
McGonagall adjusted her glasses. "It seems that the curse has lodged itself inside … the two of you, and what it is trying to do is bring its pieces together. That means that if you are too far apart, or away from each other for too long, you will be sick in terms of nausea and …eh…"
"Rashes, headaches, a feeling of deep anxiety," said Madam Pomfrey, who had been quiet up until now. She had insisted on being there for the conversation, and was sitting on a small sofa near the fire place. "All of which you have already experienced."
"Thank you, Poppy," said McGonagall quietly.
"But," said Hermione, now very pale. "I'm feeling fine right now, and have been for, I don't know, the last couple of hours. Could it have worn off?"
"Are you completely daft?" sneered Snape. "When does anything just wear off?"
"Severus!" said McGonagall sharply. "No, Miss Granger. It's not quite that simple. The reason you have been feeling alright is because you have … Well, I suppose it is due to the fact that you have-"
"Been near me," finished Snape.
Hermione stared at Snape, and then at the floor. "Is there a counter curse?" she asked weakly.
"Well, not as of yet," said McGonagall. "But we have Gilbert Moss and … What was that other man's name again, Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey gave McGonagall an odd look. "Ralph Kimper, I believe."
"Ah, yes. From the Spell Damage Specialist Unit at St Mungo's. They are working on your case feverishly and—" McGonagall stopped. "Miss Granger? Are you alright?"
Hermione had risen from her chair, one of her hands gripping the back of it tightly. "Actually, no." She swayed slightly on the spot. "I-I need some air," she stuttered, and began backing away towards the door.
Madam Pomfrey half-rose out of her seat. "Miss Granger-Hermione," she said. "This is a lot to take in, but—"
"I need to …" mumbled Hermione, now almost at the door. "I-I can't breathe."
"You're having an anxiety attack," said Madam Pomfrey, a little more insistently. "Please, come here." She patted on the cushion next to her. "You need to sit down."
Hermione stopped for a moment, her hand on the door knob, seemingly trying to take a couple of deep breaths. Then she shook her head violently, wrenched the door open, and before anyone could stop her, she had disappeared down the stone steps.
"You have to go after her, Severus!" gasped Madam Pomfrey. "Hurry!"
"Poppy's right," said McGonagall. "She might hurt herself!"
"Then she only has herself to blame," sneered Snape. "I refuse to take responsibility for Miss Granger's emotional instability."
McGonagall stood up abruptly, almost knocking over her chair. She slammed her fist down on her desk, ignoring the pain shooting up her arm.
"Miss Granger has every right to be upset," she said, her chest heaving with anger. "You call it emotional instability, I call it a perfectly sane response to an utterly insane situation!" She gave him a long look. "This is distressing for you as well, Severus, I am well aware. But you will not use Miss Granger as an outlet for your discontent. Am I making myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Snape gritted out.
"Good," said McGonagall with finality. "Now go find her."
ooo
Almost twenty minutes had passed when Snape finally found Hermione, sitting on the front steps to the castle.
"Miss Granger," he said as smoothly as he could manage. He was feeling nauseous, the foul taste of bile rising up in his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to keep it down.
"Please leave me alone," said Hermione, not looking up.
"That option is not available, I'm afraid," he said. "I'm to escort you back to the office." He made a sweeping gesture towards to the doors. "The Headmistress' orders."
"No," said Hermione simply.
Snape watched as she wiped at her face with her sleeve. He sighed inwardly, thinking of a different approach. "May I sit down?" he asked.
"I can hardly stop you," answered Hermione, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. She looked cold, even though it was a rather hot morning. The sun was blazing down from a cloudless sky, and in the distance, the Great Lake was completely still.
Snape lowered himself down next to her, shooting her a sideways glance. He could feel the nausea subsiding, fading away and disappearing almost completely, in a matter of seconds. The sensation was unnerving. It was because of her, of course. Being close to her. He shook his head. This curse was a joke. A farce. A humiliating nightmare. He scowled, pushing those thoughts aside.
"How can you be so calm?" muttered Hermione, as she brushed imaginary lint off her jumper. "You hardly seem bothered at all."
Snape quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do not presume that you know anything about me, Miss Granger. As much as I loathe to be in this situation, I also recognize the fact that running away crying isn't going to solve anything."
Hermione shot him an angry look. "I wasn't running away crying! I was almost losing my mind in there! I had to leave!" She made a sound of frustration. "We wouldn't be in this situation at all if you hadn't been a complete arse!"
Her reaction didn't surprise him the slightest, quite the contrary. He would have been more worried if she had stayed quiet. Still, he didn't like being called an arse. "Language, Miss Granger," he drawled.
"I couldn't care less about propriety at this point," snapped Hermione, turning her face away from him.
Snape scratched at a spot right above his heart. She was right. He was to blame. He shouldn't have forced her, pushed her. But it had been so easy to slip back into that role. The role where he was the predator and everyone else the prey. He felt a rush of shame at the thought of it. He wanted to believe that he had changed. He thought he had changed. He paused that train of thought.
"Yes, alright," he said, finally. "I suppose I am … partly to blame."
That earned him a glance, a disdainful snort and an eye-roll.
"I am not apologizing to you, Miss Granger, if that's what you are expecting," he said, a little harsher. "Not in this lifetime or the next. I am merely stating the fact that I regret some of my actions that day." He stood up, thinking the conversation was over. Hermione, however, remained sitting.
He cursed under his breath. "Despite what you might think, I rather enjoy being alive," he said. "I don't claim to know all the side-effects to this curse, but suffice to say, I am not taking any of them lightly."
Hermione gazed up at him, looking utterly perplexed. He might as well have been speaking in Mertongue.
"What I'm trying to say is," he emphazised. "That I can't leave unless you come with me." He nodded towards the doors. "Now get up."