For the first time since his return, Severus bore an eerie resemblance to his former self. He stalked through the halls like some oversized bird of prey, sneering at anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross his path.
Clearly, sleep deprivation had taken its toll on him. It didn't help that he was perilously on edge, his muscles aching with tension. Of course, he would've preferred to take his frustrations out on the perpetrator of these recent stunts, but until that person was found…
"Ah, Severus," Minerva said as he swept into the teacher's lounge. "We were wondering when you'd show up."
"My apologies. There was an… incident that needed my attention."
"Did it have anything to do with Mr. Wiggins?" asked Flitwick. "I just saw him coming out of the dungeons – poor boy looked quite traumatized."
"Yes, well, I don't tolerate carelessness, especially when one is handling potentially dangerous ingredients."
"What did he…"
"Enough," Minerva interrupted. "Let's call this meeting to order, shall we?"
Finding a seat near the back, Severus pretended to listen as she dispensed with her usual business. He put in an order for Potions supplies, nearly nodding off as Rolanda launched into a lengthy explanation regarding the need for new Quidditch uniforms. Really, he didn't see why he had to be here. He could've prepared a list and sent it straight up to Minerva's office, no need to sit through all the mundane…
"Now that that's taken care of, I'd like to talk about Hermione Granger. I assume all of you heard about the incident in the library?"
"Library?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, you weren't at breakfast, were you? Really, Severus, you should leave the dungeons more often."
He rolled his eyes, deciding not to remind her that his office, classroom, and living quarters were all located down there. "What happened?"
"Miss Granger tore up a bunch of books," Flitwick said. "Irma was furious."
"Impossible."
"I would've thought so, too," Minerva said, "but it couldn't have been anyone else."
Severus shook his head, remembering the books Hermione had brought to Saint Mungo's. She'd handled them like priceless treasures, seeming to forget that they were nothing more than ink and parchment.
"Impossible," he repeated. "That girl would rather slice off one of her own limbs."
"Severus, she admitted it."
"Indeed? What did she say?"
"She insisted that she hadn't done it on purpose. Swore that she must've been Confounded."
"Well, that makes a lot more sense."
Minerva shook her head. "According to Irma, there was no one else in the library. Severus, you know how vigilant she is – do you really think she wouldn't have seen someone come in?"
"Miss Granger was alone in her room the other night, too," Flitwick pointed out. "We couldn't find a shred of evidence to prove otherwise."
"Exactly," Minerva said. "I don't believe she's doing this intentionally, though it does seem like her imagination is getting the better of her."
"War trauma?" Poppy suggested.
Minerva nodded. "We've seen quite a bit of that this year, as you well know."
"Yes, I am running rather low on sleeping potions and calming draughts. If you can find the time, Severus…"
"Have any of you considered," he interrupted, "that these incidents might be a case of legitimate harassment?"
"Given the lack of evidence," Minerva said, "that seems unlikely. We must also consider that Miss Granger was known to have emotional issues. According to Molly Weasley…"
"Oh, bugger Molly Weasley!"
"Severus!"
The other professors stared at him, obviously shocked by his vehemence. He'd surprised himself, truth be told, though it didn't matter. He knew damn well that Hermione's behavior had nothing to do with any emotional issues.
"Forgive me," he said. "My only point is that Mrs. Weasley's… opinions are irrelevant in this situation. This is clearly a Hogwarts issue, one that I believe should be handled internally. I also believe…"
Should he admit that these things had been happening to him, too? He hesitated, deciding that the incident with Lily's picture was too personal to share. Other than that, what could he say? That someone had slipped a note under his door? Minerva would assume it was just a prank – a tasteless prank, but a prank nonetheless.
No. What he needed was more proof, something that couldn't be denied.
"I also believe," he continued, "that these incidents should be investigated further. May I have your permission to do so?"
"I don't see where that's necessary. We've already…"
"If, as you say, there is no legitimate threat, then no harm can come from me poking around a bit."
Minerva sighed. "Very well, Severus, but do this on your own time. I don't want it interfering with your teaching duties."
His duties? He shook his head, remembering the endless demands that Dumbledore had put upon him during the war. He'd rarely missed a class, even when the Dark Lord had placed additional strain on his time. He'd worked diligently for the Order, played the loyal Death Eater, all while maintaining a full-time teaching career. Did she really think he couldn't handle one little investigation? If anything, he had more time than he knew what to do with these days.
"Well then, I suppose this meeting is adjourned. Severus, may I speak with you privately?"
"Of course."
He wasn't surprised by her request. From her perspective, his concern for Hermione had to seem unusual, even unwarranted. Fortunately, he had a perfect excuse for his behavior.
"Your interest in Miss Granger…"
"I wouldn't call it an interest," he said, "merely an obligation. Need I remind you that the girl saved my life? I'm indebted to her, whether I wish to be or not."
"Oh yes, I'd completely forgotten. But Severus…"
He raised an eyebrow.
"While I'm glad to see you treating her more kindly…"
"I haven't been kind."
"Less… acrimonious then."
He inclined his head, deciding this was acceptable.
"I believe this is a positive change, but that doesn't mean you should encourage these odd behaviors. What she needs – what we all need – is to put the war behind us. A return to normalcy, if you will."
"Normalcy?" he repeated. "What's that?"
"Well," she said, her lips twitching, "as close to normal as it ever gets around here."
He nodded. "That is my goal, as well as the reason for my investigation. If I can put the girl's fears to rest, perhaps we can finish the school year without further incident. That would be better for all of us, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, I suppose it would. Very well, Severus, do what you must."
No matter how hard she tried, Hermione couldn't seem to focus. She'd fallen asleep twice in Professor Binns' class, though that wasn't nearly as bad as the Charms essay she'd forgotten to finish. To her relief, Professor Flitwick had chosen not to penalize her, extending the deadline for a week as he'd murmured about the difficult time she'd been having.
Of course, that didn't mean he believed her. None of the professors did. They might be concerned, but that had nothing to do with the fact that she might be in danger. They didn't make announcements or take any precautions, didn't even bother to assign additional patrols to the guest wing where she slept. They obviously thought it was all in her head, some belated response to the traumas of war.
If this had been a Muggle school, they would've sent her to counseling, perhaps even given her medication. In the Wizarding world, mental issues were either tolerated or outright ignored, unless one was so far gone that they earned themselves a permanent residence at Saint Mungo's.
Was there something wrong with her mind? That was the real question, one that had begun to trouble her immensely. She'd honestly thought there was an intruder in her room, one who'd also forced her to destroy those books. But what if the professors were right? What if she'd imagined that someone else was there, her perception so distorted that…
"Bollocks!"
The cauldron exploded, spraying her with putrid green liquid. To her horror, she burst into tears, dismayed by yet another reminder of how detached she was from reality.
"Hey Granger! Looks like you've got a rat spleen in your hair!"
"20 points from Slytherin!"
"But sir…"
"Quiet, Mr. Forrester. Unless, of course, you'd like me to double it."
The Slytherin shook his head, his eyes wide. It wasn't difficult to understand his confusion – Snape had always favored his own students, reluctant to take points for even the most grievous offenses.
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered as he came to stand behind her. He didn't acknowledge her apology, scowling as he Vanished the mess she'd created.
"My office," he said. "8 PM tonight."
Hermione couldn't believe Snape had given her detention. It felt like a personal insult, a brutal reminder that he still held all the power. Of course, he was her teacher, but punishing her like she was just another student? That felt wrong somehow, as if the past few months had never happened.
That wasn't the only thing that felt off. Her day went from bad to worse, a dismal performance in Transfiguration followed by an A on her Arithmancy test. Acceptable? She supposed it could've been worse, though she'd never scored anything less than an O in that class.
What was wrong with her? True, she'd barely slept since the night she'd seen an intruder in her room… or had thought she'd seen… she didn't even know anymore.
"Come in."
She sighed, opening the door to Snape's office. He was seated at his desk with a pot of tea beside him, brow furrrowed as he inspected a roll of parchment.
"Sit down, Miss Granger."
Quietly, she obeyed, dropping into the empty chair on the other side of the desk.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"To serve detention."
He looked up, his dark eyes connecting with hers. "This isn't detention. More of a meeting, I'd say."
"Look, I really am sorry about the cauldron. I didn't mean…"
"I'm sure you didn't," he interrupted, "though I'd like to hear your explanation. It's unlike you to be so careless."
For the first time that day, she felt slightly better. True, he might still punish her, but at least he was willing to hear her out.
"I haven't been sleeping," she told him. "After what happened in my room, the library…"
"Yes, I heard about the books. You believe you were Confunded?"
"That's what it felt like. I heard someone speak and then everything went fuzzy, and then… I don't know what happened. Professor McGonagall says…"
"I'm well aware of her opinion. Right now, I want to hear yours."
"Honestly?" She hesitated, letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm scared."
"That seems like a logical reaction," he said, pouring a cup of tea. "If you believe someone's targeting you…"
"It isn't just that."
"No?"
To her surprise, he set the tea in front of her, fixing a second cup for himself. He even passed her the cream and sugar, leaning back in his chair as he waited for her response.
"I… I'm scared that they might be right."
"Who?"
"Everyone. The other teachers, Madame Pince, even Professor McGonagall. They sseem to think it's all in my head, like I'm having some sort of mental breakdown."
"I don't believe that," Snape said quietly.
"You don't?"
"No," he said, pausing to take a sip of tea. "In fact, I'm quite certain that we're dealing with a legitimate threat."
"How…"
He retrieved a slip of parchment from his pocket, sliding it across the desk. "Read it."
"The war will never be over," she read aloud, a chill skittering up her spine. "Not until I finish what he started."
"Someone slipped that under my door three nights ago. The same night…"
"The night I saw an intruder in my room."
"Yes, and that isn't all. The night before last…"
"The night I went to the library?"
He nodded. "Someone managed to gain access to my private quarters. They cast a jinx that duplicated one of my personal items."
"What was it?"
"It doesn't matter," he said. "The point is that I believe you. I'd be foolish not to, considering that these incidents have been happening to me, too."
"Have you told anyone?"
"No."
She frowned. "Why not?"
"Because it isn't enough. You saw how the others reacted to the incidents with you, how quick they were to trivialize…"
"It was like they wanted to believe I'd made it up."
"Precisely. And why do you think that is?"
"I'd guess it has something to do with Volde…" She hesitated, noticing his sharp intake of breath. "You-Know-Who being gone. I think a lot of people convinced themselves that getting rid of him would solve all our problems."
"An astute observation," Snape said.
"Of course, that isn't realistic."
"No," he agreed, "but they're eager to put the war behind them. They're determined to believe that all is well, that…"
"That there's nothing left to be afraid of," she finished for him.
He inclined his head. "A natural reaction, I suppose, though it does make things more difficult for us."
"So what do we do?"
"Truthfully?" He sighed, looking as tired as she felt. "I don't know. It's impossible to come up with a plan when we have no idea who we're dealing with or what their intentions are. It could be that these are just a series of pranks, disturbing yet not inherently dangerous. But…"
"But we can't afford to take that chance."
"No, which is why I want you to report directly to me from now on. Whatever happens, anything you might see, I want you to tell me. Even if it seems insignificant, a slight inkling, some random suspicion…"
"I'll tell you." She hesitated, hoping she wasn't crossing the line. "If you agree to do the same."
He finished the last of his tea, eyeing her over the rim of his cup. Finally, he set it back on the table, folding his hands in his lap.
"Agreed."
Nearly a week passed without incident, allowing Severus to relax to some degree. He even managed to get a bit more sleep, his nightmares stifled by sheer exhaustion. Still, he knew it was just a matter of time. If life had taught him anything, it was that no problem could be obliterated by wishful thinking.
As such, he wasn't surprised when Hermione approached him after class a few days later, telling him she had an incident to report.
"Well, I don't know if I'd call it an incident," she said, "but…"
"What happened? Did you see anything?"
"No, but I think Crookshanks did."
"Crookshanks?" He frowned. "That's your…"
"My cat."
"I see. Go on."
"For the past couple weeks, I've been keeping him with me at night. He usually just curls up and goes to sleep, but last night, he was acting weird."
"So your cat…" Severus trailed off, biting back a sarcastic remark. True, she was referencing a type of animal that was notorious for peculiar behavior, but hadn't he told her to report even the most minor occurrences?
"Your cat," he repeated, keeping his tone mild. "What did he do?"
"I think he was standing guard. He sat by the door all night, refusing to come when I called. I even heard him growl a couple times, like he was warning someone off. Someone or something… I really don't know."
"The castle is full of animals," Severus pointed out. "He could've been growling at a stray mouse, or perhaps another student's companion."
She shook her head. "I've never seen him growl at ordinary animals… or people, for that matter. He only acts like this when he senses danger."
"Such as?"
"Remember Scabbers?"
"Scabbers?" Severus frowned, wondering why the name sounded familiar.
"Wormtail. He was…"
"Impersonating Ronald Weasley's rat. Yes, I remember now."
Hermione nodded. "Crookshanks figured it out long before any of us did. He kept trying to attack him, nearly killed him once or twice."
"It's a shame he didn't succeed. Go on."
"I couldn't understand why he hated him so much. He didn't have a problem with anyone else's animals, even other rats. But Crookshanks is very smart. The witch I bought him from told me he was half-Kneazle."
"Ah, that explains it."
"So you believe…"
Severus inclined his head. "I believe your cat could indeed prove useful. He might not be large enough to capture an intruder, but he at least has the ability to warn you, it seems. Keep him with you, and do let me know if it happens again."
"I will."
He thought that was the end of their conversation, though she clearly wasn't in any hurry to leave. She hovered in front of his desk instead, their conversation replaced by awkward silence.
"Was there anything else?"
"Actually, I was hoping…"
"Yes?"
"Do you have any Dreamless Sleep?"
He frowned, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, her face pale with exhaustion. Unfortunately, he didn't have any Dreamless Sleep to give her. He'd Vanished his entire supply, frustrated in the aftermath of a ghastly nightmare.
"I'm afraid not," he said. "Nor do I have time to brew a fresh batch. I still have four classes ahead of me, not to mention two detentions scheduled for this afternoon."
"That's all right."
"Perhaps you might ask Madame Pomfrey?"
"She already thinks I'm cracked. It's okay, really. I'll just…"
He shook his head, suppressing a sigh. "I'll have it for you this evening."
"You really don't have to…"
"Miss Granger?"
"Yeah?"
"A simple 'thank you' will suffice."