A/N: I forgot to post the link here in the last chapter, but if you would like to see Hermione's blanket, I picture it like this: www. waverleypatch. org. au/images/showtell/April%

As with all links, please remember to remove the spaces to make them work.

Also, Lorrell is based on a real person. So if you are still frightened of her being a Mary Sue, she is actually based on a friend of mine who surprisingly still talks to me. I've been told I've nailed her character, and she is by no means perfect. If she was, I wouldn't talk to her. :)

I love the reviews I recevied from the last chapter! Thank you for taking the time to tell me you thought. I read and respond to each of them.

Playlist:

http:/ /www. youtube. com/view_play_list?p=CD2140245501986E

Chapter Four

Hermione stepped lightly out onto the Quidditch pitch and climbed up high into the bleachers to find Harry sitting alone watching practice.

"Coach taking a day off?" inquired Hermione with a smile.

"I need to see how they work without me barking orders all the time. They seem to be doing alright so far. Ginny keeps a tight leash," said Harry with a grin.

Hermione laughed and watched the young girl as she gave a beater a hard time about where exactly to fly. "I can see that she does! Is she the one you're planning on handing the team over to after this year?"

"Definitely," he told her. "She'll make a great captain."

Harry and Hermione watched the team as they practiced different tactics and maneuvers. They had a few fellow students stepping in to act as an opposing team so that the Gryffindors could better refine their skills.

"Why is Lorrell down there?" Hermione asked.

"I think she'd like to play but doesn't feel real comfortable on a broom," Harry told her.

Hermione nodded, remembering what the girl had said her first night at the Weasleys'. Letting out a long breath, she wondered if she needed to do more to become friends with Lorrell. It was obvious that she and Ron were already enamored with each other. Hermione had found him looking at Lorrell the same way he had once looked at her, and she would be lying if she said it didn't sting a little, but it hurt surprisingly less now, after the first two weeks of school.

If this was what she had to look forward to, perhaps she should just suck it up and make friends with her.

Climbing down from the stands, Hermione called over to her, "Lorrell!"

"What?" she yelled back.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Come over here."

Lorrell shifted a glance to Ron, who was too busy as Keeper to notice. Reluctantly she followed Hermione around the side of the stands. "Hey, what's up?" she asked her.

"Harry said that he thought you kind of wanted to help out and play, but I remember what you said about being uncomfortable flying," said Hermione.

"Yeah," said Lorrell. "What about it?"

"Well, I think I can help you," said Hermione.

"Honey, it's more about physics than ability. I doubt there's anything you can teach me," she told the shorter witch.

Maybe this was going to be harder than she had expected. "I understand where your difficulty lies," she explained, "but I think I can teach you a few charms for your broom that will make it much safer and more comfortable to handle."

"Really?" asked Lorrell skeptically, crossing her arms. "Alright. Let's see what you can do."

Hermione had brought with her one of the standard Quidditch brooms they were using this year. She eyed it critically and sized up Lorrell. Nibbling her lip, she cast a few charms, forgetting that she was doing them wandlessly, as well as silently, a trick she had been working on over the summer. "Try this," she said as she handed the broom over to Lorrell for inspection.

The husky blonde took the broom. She found this even more suspect. Slowly, she mounted the broom. "Well," she said, "it's definitely more comfortable."

"That'd be the Cushioning Charm. Now see how it flies," Hermione instructed her.

Lorrell wobbled a bit on the broom, as though testing it for stability, and was a little surprised to find it resisting her efforts. Slowly, she took off. Hermione watched her do a pass around the stadium, speeding up as she went, until she was flying over the team below. Making a sharp turn overhead, Lorrell finally landed in front of her.

"That was sweet!" said Lorrell, enthused. "Dude, how did you make it do that?"

Hermione laughed brightly. "There are a few benefits to spending the afternoons studying," she lightly admonished. "And feeling uncomfortable flying myself, these are a few things I've tried. They didn't help me, I just have to 'try, try again' as they say, but I thought they might help you so you could join them."

"But," the other girl questioned, "why would you want to help me?"

"Because I don't want to be the heinous ex-girlfriend. Because I see how close you two are, and I'd rather be friends than enemies. Because I knew something you didn't that would benefit you, and rarely does it do any good to not share knowledge. I'll be honest. I'm a little put out, but I would never begrudge someone else's happiness. I'd probably be pretty miserable right now anyway. So, take out your wand, and I'll teach you how to perform the charms by yourself."

"Okay," said Lorrell. "Cool." She took out her wand and followed Hermione's instructions.

It was interesting to teach someone from a different school. Hermione hadn't seen much of the spell casting from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, but much of what she had seen was similar to what Hogwarts students were taught. It was intriguing to see the subtle differences in wand movements that other students learned. Soon Lorrell was casting spells without much difficulty.

"It's just 'Spongify'. Watch. Spongify! And see the little flick at the end? You need to make sure that hits your broom, or you'll just make soft grass," Hermione told her as she watched the blond girl practice. "Good! Now this Gripping Charm is a little more difficult."

After some practice, both spells were cast effortlessly.

"Now, for the Stability Charm, you need to make sure to hold your wand very steady. Stabilis!" said Hermione in a confident tone.

A few more minutes of practice, and Lorrell could fully charm her broom for safety and comfort.

"You're the sweetest!" she shouted back to Hermione as she lifted off to join the teams.

"That was really good of you, Hermione," Harry told her as she returned to her seat in the stadium.

"Yes, well, I have certainly helped you two enough. Time to spread it around," she told him.

"You still helped me," he answered with a smirk.

She frowned at him. "How so?"

"Now I have two complete teams."

She rolled her eyes. It always came back to Quidditch.

Leaning back against the bench, Hermione enjoyed the afternoon sunshine. She was pleased with herself for helping Lorrell. Her parents had taught her not to be petty and to always help out if you could. It didn't cost anything, and it would generally help you both in the long run. Even though they were gone, she wasn't going to forget what they had taught her.

Taking a deep breath, she watched Harry. She knew how hard it was to not forget what her parents had taught her after being with them nearly seventeen years. What would it be like to never have known them at all? She knew that Harry had his own issues, but he had turned out pretty well-adjusted, considering, and she was proud of him for that.

"I'm proud of you, Harry," she told him.

"Um, thanks. Why?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "I just don't think you hear it enough. Trying to remember to be a good person after having it drilled into your head for as long as I have is hard. I can't imagine what it must have been like to grow up with the Dursleys as examples, but you didn't turn out like them. You're a great friend, and a nice guy, and I'm proud of you and wanted to tell you. That's all."

"You're strange, Hermione."

"I know." She reached over to give his hand a pat. "Ginny will be a lucky girl to have you, whenever you get up the courage."

Her friend glanced at her quickly before looking up to the team.

"Guys! Let's call it a night!" Harry yelled out.

The team was laughing and carrying on as they flew down to the ground and headed off to change and grab showers.

"Great flying out there, guys! Glad to have you on a broom, Lorrell. Feel free to come out and pitch in if you like. Our opposing practice team is our first call for backup," Harry told the new girl.

"Sweet, thanks!" she told him, a little out of breath. She hadn't flown like that in some time, and it showed.

Hermione followed Harry out of the stands, and they waited for the team to get dressed before the group headed back up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Everyone was in high spirits after a fantastic practice, and they were in the mood to celebrate.

Ron brought out some butterbeer, no doubt smuggled in with the help of his brothers, and assisted Harry in getting some food from the kitchens. She wondered if the other houses did the same. As far as she knew, the entrance to the kitchens was fairly secret and not everyone had their own adoring house elf like Harry.

She changed into her night clothes and settled into a chair to read for a little while as she watched the ruckus in the room. Ron was playing chess in the corner against Dean, and Lorrell and Colin were watching. Harry sat on the couch watching Ginny chat with Neville. She hoped he remembered what she had said. Neville would make someone very happy someday, but Ginny had her eye on someone else.

As though he had heard her, Harry called out to Ginny. "Hey, Gin, would you like to come join Hermione and me?"

Hermione and me? Wait a minute. She wasn't even talking to Harry. Thinking fast, she said, "Yeah, um, we were just talking about our chances against Ravenclaw next week."

"Oh!" said Ginny gaily. "We're totally going to clobber them!" She left Neville and joined Harry on the sofa.

Both Harry and Hermione knew that what Hermione had said was a blatant lie but hoped Ginny would overlook it for the sake of spending the evening in Harry's company.

"What do you think of their new beater, Ackerley?" asked Hermione.

Both of her friends looked at her, surprised. "What? Just because I don't always join in doesn't mean I don't listen," she told them.

Ginny nodded. "True. You couldn't be a know-it-all without knowing about Quidditch. Then you'd just be a know-it-mostly."

Hermione sarcastically responded, "Thanks, Ginny."

"You're welcome," she told her. "But I really don't think he is going to be very good. It's the new Chaser I'm worried about. She is really quick."

Hermione slowly worked her way out of the conversation so that Ginny and Harry could chat alone. She slipped her eyes down to her book, trying to attract as little attention as possible to what she was doing. Turning a page, she snuggled a little further into the blanket draped around her.

As Harry and Ginny continued their conversation, she could see Harry slowly moving closer. Ginny was like a deer in headlights, obviously not believing what she was seeing. She sat perfectly still, letting Harry make the moves as he felt comfortable. "Would you like to see the book I picked up on the latest maneuvers of the Vratsa Vultures?"

"Sure, Harry, that sounds great. I'll wait for you to go get it," Ginny said with a smile, and she watched Harry leap up and take the steps two at a time to reach his dorm.

"This isn't happening," Hermione heard the other girl say. "This isn't happening."

"It is too happening. Now shush, and enjoy it!" Hermione told her.

Ginny looked up at Hermione as though she just remember she was there. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll enjoy it." She took a breath to calm herself before Harry came back and decided to chat with Hermione to calm her nerves. "What are you reading, Hermione?"

"Transformative Transfigurations: A Guide in Educational Application of Theory," said Hermione.

"Why did I ask? And why are you reading that?" she asked her.

"Um, well, actually," Hermione stuttered. The Headmistress has never announced that Hermione was working on taking over Transfiguration, and she didn't know if it was common knowledge. In fact, she didn't know if she wanted it to be common knowledge. She was happily rescued by Harry bounding back down the stairs and across the room.

"Found it! Did you miss me?" he cheekily inquired.

"Perhaps a little," Ginny said. "Now show me the book!"

Harry sat back down on the couch, right next to Ginny this time, and threw his arm around her as he set the book on both of their laps, opening it to show her the pages of moving figures demonstrating the latest feints and ploys. Ginny looked to him with a grin, and then they both became lost in the book.

Hermione was very happy. She knew that despite all the fame he was given, inside, Harry Potter was a very shy and slightly awkward teenager. In fact, all of the attention from something that really had very little to do with him as a wizard probably made it more difficult to overcome his insecurities. It was hard enough to create a reputation for yourself and even harder to live up to one set for you. It was difficult for him to talk to girls when he never knew if they wanted to talk to Harry Potter, Boy Hero, or Harry Potter, Seventh Year Gryffindor.

Smiling, Hermione went back to reading.

Before long, Ron and Lorrell came over. Ron sat in the empty chair, and Lorrell sat right next to Ginny. "So, what going on over here?" asked Ron.

Harry and Ginny quickly moved apart, and Hermione cursed her ex-boyfriend's thoughtlessness. Just because he was having no troubles spending time with a girl didn't mean everyone was so fortunate. She was surprised Lorrell didn't realize the situation either.

"Books, Ron," she told him in a clipped tone. "You don't like them, so maybe you should find something else to do."

"Whoa, alright then. A bloke can see when he isn't wanted. Hey, Lorrell, fancy some Exploding Snap?" Ron asked her.

"Um, sure. Yeah, that sounds great," Lorrell said, sensing the tension in the air but not knowing what to do about it.

They both left the area and headed over to where a few other students had gathered to play. Ron grabbed a butterbeer on the way for him and Lorrell as they settled in to watch and wait for their turns.

After the two exited, the pair on the sofa visibly relaxed and went back to their book. Hermione turned back to her textbook and kept an eye on the pair in the corner. She really was glad they were becoming friends and that Lorrell was settling in. She just wasn't glad enough to let it stall things between Harry and Ginny.

After keeping her vigil a little while longer, making sure Harry and Ginny were going to be able to spend the evening uninterrupted, Hermione closed her book and slipped up to the dormitory. Everyone else was enjoying the party, so she decided to enjoy the silence. She lay back in her bed and snuggled under her blanket until sleep came.

~~HGSS~~

By the time morning arrived, she could already feel the itch to play piano. She hadn't played at all since coming back to Hogwarts, and she had gotten rather used to playing more frequently. She decided that that evening she would sneak into the empty office she often used – Merrythought's, she thought it was – and transfigure the desk into a piano. It wasn't her Steinway, but over the past few years as her transfiguration skills had improved, so had her impromptu instrument.

Her classes that day seemed to drag on as she finally looked forward to something in the evening.

Now that her professors knew she was going to be teaching with them the following year, she could hear their pointed instructions to her during each class period. In Charms class, as Professor Flitwick was discussing their first test, he pointedly told the class his grading system and that he often graded the tests right after dinner with a cup of cider so that he could finish them all at once when he was nice and comfortable.

Professor Miller gave her twelve books to read.

Professor Sprout explained how Herbology was such an important subject because it dealt so closely with all the other subjects, including Transfiguration, and that her method of impartial judgment should be taken on by all the teachers.

Tonks emphasized the importance of demonstration and had Hermione come up and show the class a new defensive spell.

Professor Snape said nothing.

Taking her seat at the table in the Great Hall, she felt like laying her head on the table and taking a nap. Things had better not continue like this all year. Each of the professors had a day where they could drill their methods of teaching and their theories into her. Why did they need to do it every day? She felt like each one was trying to outperform the other, not realizing that their methods overlapped and interlocked.

The fact that Professor Snape was leaving her be made her grateful, and she felt even more respect towards him than before, even if he was probably doing it out of dislike or apathy.

As she pondered over her day, she didn't notice her fingers on the table top, absentmindedly tapping out a rhythm using the grained wood as her keys. She looked up to find Professor Snape watching her fingers as though trying to figure out the melody. With a sly smirk, she brought up her left hand to join her right and added the chords to the song in her mind.

This was how Beethoven must have felt. Feeling the instrument with your hands, knowing what you want it to do but only hearing it in your mind. She understood now why he still composed and didn't give up completely. The strokes of her fingers still played music in her mind and even that helped her bring her brain into focus. She looked up to see that her professor was even more confused.

Professor Snape was watching her keenly. What kind of magic was this, that she could create music on a table? Was this some charm he had yet to hear of or that she herself had invented? A fine thing indeed it must be to play on a whim.

Having never played, he had no concept of the ability to perform inside with outside stimulus.

She finished her meal and slowly treaded back toward the dorm where she planned to grab a few things and then find the abandoned office in which she could hide out for the evening and play her own concert. She didn't notice the man in the portraits following her, nor had she noticed him at dinner, peering in from the landscape across from the Great Hall entryway.

She heard a muffled cough behind her and turned to see no one. Puzzled, she turned back, only to hear the cough again.

"Over on the wall, Miss Granger. To your left. Up here with Mrs. Pivis."

Hermione turned again and looked up. Halfway up the wall was a portrait of an older lady, who was being intruded upon by one Albus Dumbledore.

"Can I help you, sir?" Hermione politely asked.

Albus smiled down at her. "Oh, I need nothing. Nothing at all. Just checking in with some of my favorite students in the castle. Have a busy night ahead of you?"

"No, sir. Not particularly."

"Are you planning on commandeering Professor Merrythought's office again?"

"You know about that? What am I saying? Of course you know about that," she said, dejected.

He chuckled. "Not many things happened that I didn't hear about. And now, not many things happen that I still don't hear about. I know you've been using her room to play in ever since you recovered from the basilisk in your second year, needing something to help take the edge off being the brightest witch in the castle and friends with the Boy-Who-Lived and his faithful sidekick, Mr. Weasley. I won't keep you then, my dear. Have a restful evening."

Nodding to him, she smiled and said, "Thank you, sir," and headed on her way.

Reaching the dormitory, she slipped off her student robes and put on a pair of Muggle jeans and a sweater. She tossed the textbook she had brought to dinner on her desk, ran a brush haphazardly through her hair, and grabbed her wand.

"Accio Invisibility Cloak!"

In no time at all, a shimmering silver cloak came flying through her doorway. She knew that no one was in the Gryffindor towers right now, and she wasn't able to get into the boys' dormitory with no one in there. Harry had charmed the cloak to respond to her, Ron, and himself if called, and this was one of the times she was thankful for his forethought.

Not knowing how long she would be gone, it would be prudent to take the cloak with her. Head Girl or not, she didn't want to flout the rules.

Stuffing the cloak into her bag, she made her way through the quiet dorm room where the only sound was the crackling fire. Apologizing to the Fat Lady, she headed out into the hallway, and, after looking both ways, she started off to the office.

As soon as she arrived, Hermione began the difficult task of transfiguring a desk into a piano. She had to visualize the shape of the case, the soundboard, the tuning pins, and the strings. The action, pin block, and bridge were imagined with great detail and accuracy. Each key and pedal was lovingly crafted in her mind before the first wave of her wand. Slowly, she began her wand movements and incantation until she had exactly what she had envisioned.

Sitting down on the bench, which was hastily created out of the desk chair, she plunked out a few notes. Finding them satisfactory, she moved on to a few scales and other warm-ups. Finding the piano in tune and her fingers nimble and flexed, she brought out her music to play.

She had several books of music that she had brought with her. They were one of the few things she had kept from her childhood bedroom. Chopin, Brickman, and Liszt – of course. Rachmaninov, Grieg, and Satie. Matsui, Whitacre, and Mussorgsky. She had books for solo piano, small ensemble, and chamber orchestra. Some books were symphonies, some were selected works, and still others were Broadway, movie scores, and regional pieces. They constituted a library within her library.

Tonight, she pulled a few random selections. Mendelssohn, Beethoven, Satie, Chaminade, and Falla. She took out the Mendelssohn first, opened to the first song in Opus 19b, and began to play. (1)

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape was in a bad mood. Bad even for him, not that many could tell. He hadn't had a decent night of sleep since the last day at Grimmauld Place, and he was almost – almost – to the point where he would go back there if it meant he could sleep again.

The other staff members were not helping the situation. All they could talk about was Granger. They all extolled her virtues, and it didn't help that he was feeling particularly indebted to her himself. Not that he should, mind you. It was no more than her duty to help serve, and if that meant making sure their top spy received decent rest and was in top form, then she could be doing more, and he was taking no more than was his due.

Dammit. He still felt beholden.

But he wasn't going to give her any pointers on teaching, that was for sure. She could figure it out for herself, just like he had. There had been no one to coddle him in his first year, and he had done just fine. Even if she was younger than him, she had plenty of support and no need for a cold-hearted, cantankerous, uncouth old man.

But, cursing himself, he still wanted to help her.

He zapped that thought like a fly in a Muggle bug zapper. Severus Snape did not feel like helping anyone. He had helped quite enough, thank you, and look where that had gotten him. Nowhere, except stuck in a drafty old castle with people he detested and ungrateful children, working for one cause he didn't believe in, and another he wasn't sure about, serving two tyrannical masters. Even if one was dead, and the other was sure as hell not exactly living.

He watched the Granger girl - woman - girl - as she tapped out a rhythm on the table, taunting him. He didn't know how she knew, but she was obviously aware that she had aided him in some way with her talents and was now flaunting the fact that she had the capacity, but not the inclination, to do so again.

He watched as she left and then finished his meal. The look on his face was stern enough that no one dared try to start up a conversation, and for that he was thankful.

Walking out of the Great Hall, he was accosted by none other than Albus Dumbledore as soon as he exited the doorway.

"Severus!" greeted the deceased headmaster.

"Albus," Snape flatly answered.

Dumbledore moved down to a portrait of mountains that was almost eye to eye with his quarry. "And how are you feeling this evening, my dear boy?"

Snape furrowed his brow at Albus. Even in death the man was twinkling. Why couldn't he just leave him be? "I've been better, as I'm sure you know. What is it you want? I'm in no mood to chatter."

"You never are," said Dumbledore.

Snape didn't notice that this was not his usual path to his quarters as he followed Albus's image, flowing from one frame to the next, down the hallway. The castle rearranged so frequently, he didn't really have a regular way. Albus continued to ask the younger wizard about his health, his classes, and anything he could think of, until they arrived in a mostly abandoned corridor.

"Well, I'm sure you have things to do besides listen to an old man prattle on! I'll leave you to your evening then. Goodbye, Severus, and do come visit."

Glaring at the figure in the frame, Snape watched as he disappeared. When Albus was gone, Snape looked down the hallway. Why in Merlin's name had the old man brought him here? Probably didn't even realize where he was heading.

Snape turned on his heels and prepared to head back to the main section of the castle when he heard it. (2) The soft, alluring strains of piano music wafting down through the dark and empty hallways, a siren song begging him to come closer and investigate. Tickling his curiosity, touching it gently, promisingly, encouraging his footsteps toward the door.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione wasn't exactly sure when it happened. Somewhere during Satie's Gnossiennes, she realized she wasn't alone.

She wasn't frightened. Curious, but not frightened. In fact, she had a pretty good idea who was outside the door. She wasn't sure how he had found her, why he was there, or why he hadn't said anything, but she was still sure she knew who it was, and she wasn't afraid of him.

Curious, but not frightened.

And maybe a little annoyed.

She wasn't anyone's personal pianist. She was playing for her own peace of mind, not for anyone else's. This was one thing she did that she did with only herself in mind. Everything else was for the Order, the school, her friends, the students. But this was for Hermione.

But now it wasn't just for her, and she was uncertain how she felt about sharing her time.

Then she remembered the haunted look in his eyes. The drawn face, the sorrow that reflected her own, and decided if she was going to share this with anyone, no one deserved it more than he did, and she played a little louder, ensuring he could hear. She hoped it brought him some peace.

When, in the middle of her song, the music swelled louder, he knew the game was up, and she knew he was there. He tensed, waiting for her to quit, to storm out, to tell him to find another corridor to lurk in. But she didn't.

She figured if he was out there, she might as well put on a good show. After she finished Gnossiennes, she pulled out Falla's "Ritual Fire Dance." (3) So she was showing off a little bit. She was the school's resident know-it-all. Hermione smirked a little as both hands flew over the keyboard and her fingers overlapped. Sometimes she was still amazed that so many notes could flow out of a piano at once with only ten fingers, two hands, and one mind.

After that was finished, sensing he was still out there, she pulled out "Autumn" by Cécile Chaminade. (4) Starting slowly, the song lulled the listener into a false sense of security, the notes reminding her of the falling leaves drifting down from the trees, before tearing away into a fierce pattern of chords and arpeggios. The bipolar song kind of reminded her of the dear professor outside. Sometimes so still and devoid of emotion. Sometimes so animated and fierce it made her head hurt. She hoped he liked this one.

Hermione could feel her night coming to a close, her lids lowering now as the frustration of the day was adequately raked across the keys and strings. She let the song flow into the piece she had waiting behind Chaminade. The Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor "Quasi una fantasia", Op. 27, No. 2, by Ludwig van Beethoven. The "Moonlight Sonata." (5)

The notes caressed her as she played. Sometimes, she wondered if this was what it was like to make love. She stroked the piano as it stroked back, both enraptured in the melody they created, neither complete without the other.

Still, from the doorway came silence.

The final chord came down, and she exhaled slowly, moving her neck and flexing her fingers, feeling the weight fall off her shoulders. Standing up from the bench, she stretched and waited to see if he would come in and yell at her, berate her for being out of bed at this hour and being a poor example to the other students. But he didn't.

Swiftly packing her music, she waited until she went outside before tossing on Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Peeking around the corner, she saw that the professor was gone.

But the air still smelled of spices.