"For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin.....
But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt before life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."
-Alfred Souza
*Warning* This chapter contains a few graphic images (NOT sexually related). If this type of writing bothers you, please do not read any further.
Chapter 10
Hermione Granger was deep in thought.
She had been sitting for the better part of an hour in a leather chair beside the arched Gothic windows of her quarters, staring quietly out at the gloomy, Scottish weather. Feet tucked carefully beneath her, she ignored the general chaos of her room. Black owl feathers were scattered here and there, an uncountable number of texts lay haphazardly across her work desk and on the furniture surrounding the crackling hearth. A mess of newspaper sat just beside her, the front page falling off her lap. The headline blared:
RANDOM MUGGLE DEATHS? GRISLY MURDERS SHOCK SURREY
SURREY -- During the early morning hours of October 11th, six Muggles were found dead in Surrey, near the West Saxon shire. The bodies were discovered in a woodland area by local gardeners. According to the gardeners' descriptions, the bodies had been there for quite some time, all badly decomposing. Upon closer inspection from the Auror Department, it is clear that Dark magic was 'most certainly involved'. Initial reports that the murders had been committed by fellow Muggles (so assumed by the graphic state of all six bodies from what appear to be Muggle weapons) have therefore been termed false.
Rumors continue to fly regarding the continued organization of the Death Eaters - followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. While some at Ministry claim the organization died with You-Know-Who, others aren't as optimistic.
"There are still unaccounted for Death Eaters," said an Auror who wished to remain anonymous. "But we're not really allowed to talk about it. Suffice it to say the Ministry has implemented new security plans that we obviously can't discuss. Everything that can be done to protect our community is being done."
The issue remains, however, if the Wizarding community is still under threat from said organization. The Ministry, it appears, is playing along the side of caution. Much like the decree issued two years prior to the defeat of You-Know-Who, the office of the Ministry advises all witches and wizards to not leave their homes alone.
"It is a matter of common sense," said Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Be cautious after nightfall. Review the security arrangements around your homes. Create security questions for your family. Rest assured that the Ministry, in conjunction with the Auror Department, is exhausting all available resources to determine if, indeed, Death Eaters are still at large and if they pose a threat to Wizarding society. In the meantime, please issue any precautions you find necessary."
Hermione sighed, leaning her forehead against the cool window, watching the evening autumn rain fall steadily outside. It had been a long week and she hadn't been sleeping properly.
I really should go see Poppy. Dreamless Sleep isn't too troublesome for her to prescribe.
She was just ready to abandon the comfort of her soft chair to grade a pile of essays when a sputter sounded from the hearth. She jumped, startled.
"Oi, Hermione!" shouted Ron, his face appearing within the coals of the fire, slightly contorted from the licking flames. "You there?"
Startled as she was, she still found some sense of reproach in her voice as she scrambled out of her chair. "Yes, Ronald. Of course I'm here. Honestly, do you have to shout so loudly?"
Hermione could have sworn the coals shrugged. "Sorry if I scared you. What you doing tonight?"
Hermione padded across the room, circumventing the coffee table to sit on the sofa across the hearth. "Grading essays. I'm dreadfully behind."
Ron's crackling face chuckled. "Blimey, Hermione. I'd say hell has frozen over. Or," he continued thoughtfully, cocking his burning face to the side, "it could simply be that you're light years ahead of your other responsibilities but still think you're behind. Don't think I don't remember your frantic ramblings at school."
"I don't ramble, Ron."
"Ah, well," said Ron dismissively. "That's neither here nor there, I suppose. But Hermione, as lovely as debating your overly preparedness is, I didn't stop by for a late night chat. You saw the Prophet today?"
Hermione swallowed, a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, I saw it."
"Well, it's more than just stories of disappearances and odd accidents now, isn't it? It's almost every day that there's a death or two."
Hermione frowned. "What's your point, Ron?"
He appeared to consider his answer. "Harry is on holiday with Ginny in France for the rest of the week. Thought it'd do him some good to clear his head a bit, right? Anyway, the Auror offices received a tip of a disturbance in Liverpool tonight. Watson and Bagley are already out on assignment so I can't bring one of them. Anyway, I thought I'd ask if wanted to tag along. It'd be just like old times, eh?"
Hermione hesitated. It was true that she had gone with Harry and Ron in the past on Death Eater raids. The Ministry didn't exactly smile on an outsider interfering with investigations, but being who she was, nothing was generally said on the matter. That, and Hermione had assisted in more captures of Death Eaters than many on the entire Department.
The Ministry liked to be cautious, but they weren't, generally speaking, foolish.
And the weeks and years after her parents' murder saw her more involved with the Ministry than was likely sane. But for her, it had been entirely selfish. It was never about passion or what was right.
Her sole reason for going with Harry and Ron had been hopes of revenge. It was that simple.
What Ron offered was tempting, to fall back into the easy pattern of her once shining crusade. It was hard to forget those feelings just because it had ended. But thinking of her promise to Severus, Ron's offer smacked of disloyalty.
"I don't think I can, Ron," Hermione muttered slowly, looking to the floor. "I really have loads of paperwork I need to do."
"Oh, come off it, Hermione. You and I both know you're not behind. And besides, I need someone to go with me. Ministry protocol."
Working on her lower lip, Hermione shook her head. "I really can't, Ron. I made a promise that I wouldn't go looking for Death Eaters."
"A promise?" Ron's would-be eyebrows shot skyward. "A promise to who?"
"To Severus."
"Snape!" Ron exclaimed. "What on earth would you go and make a promise like that to him for? And why would he care anyway?"
"He was once a Death Eater, Ron," Hermione said defensively. "He told me that he would try to help me with finding information about my parents if I promised to not go off on my own to look for Death Eaters."
Ron frowned smugly, considering her words. "Yeah, well, still."
"Though," she tapped her chin pensively, suddenly deep in thought. "I wonder ... "
Ron's frown deepened. "What?"
"Well," said Hermione, folding her feet up underneath her. "I wonder if Severus would come with us. That way I wouldn't be breaking my promise - I wouldn't be running off on my own; I'd be with him."
"No way!" Ron shouted, and a few coals shot out of the grate. "Are you off your rocker? The old Bat hated me - you know he did! And really, I know he's a hero and all, but I don't fancy myself striking up a conversation with the man. I barely even got by Potions - what else would we talk about?" he snorted. "I doubt the Half-Blood Prince follows Quidditch."
"No," Hermione agreed. "No, I don't think he does. But Ron, let's be realistic. This isn't a lunch date; you don't have to speak with him. Besides, Severus would be far better to bring along anyway. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts!"
"Yeah, well, I don't want to say that I'm terrified of the man, but ... "
"Honestly, Ron. We're all adults. You're simply being prejudice. Now would you like me to ask him, or not?" She folded her arms. "Otherwise, it looks like you'll be breaking protocol."
"Bloody hell," Ron cursed, and Hermione saw a hand appear in the coals to rub what would be his ginger hair. "Do you really believe the bloke will come?"
Shrugging, she replied, "There's no way we'll know unless I ask."
"Fine," Ron relented with an air of exasperation. "Go and ask. But hurry up, will you? I should have left ages ago. Just meet by the visitor's entrance to the Ministry in ten minutes if you can come. We'll Apparate to Liverpool from there. I've got the general location written down."
Hermione nodded as Ron's face disappeared from the flames. A few seconds later she was gathering her traveling cloak from the coat hanger, pulling her wool socks high against her shins, and stepping into her boots. She drew her wand from inside her robes and dimmed the lights, shutting the heavy door to her quarters behind her as she set off to Severus' rooms.
It was well past curfew and Hermione's steps echoed through the empty corridor as she headed down a set of spiral stairs. Will he want to come? she wondered, lifting her skirts as she quickly descended. The prospect of going out on a raid with Ron was making her hands clammy with anticipation. What was the worst thing Severus could say to her? No?
At least she was being honest with him, honoring her own word.
Half-running as she was, it didn't take long before she came to his private quarters. Lifting a hand, she rapped quietly on the door. It was only a few moments later that the door opened in front of her, and Severus stepped out from behind it, fully clothed.
"What is wrong?"
Hermione blinked. "Er, nothing."
Severus frowned. "Then what are you doing standing outside the threshold of my rooms at this ungodly hour?"
"Er, well ... "
Suddenly, the idea to have Severus accompany her and Ron seemed foolish in the extreme. Everything in their past conversations led Hermione to believe that Severus absolutely loathed Ron. There was also the small matter that she was merely a professor, not an Auror. A scholar. She wasn't meant to be gallivanting after Ron simply because he had a lead and needed someone to accompany him. She had classes to teach in the morning, students to attend to.
"Well?" Severus demanded. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Er," Hermione swallowed. "Ron, ... he just flooed me, you see. He said that he had a tip from the Auror Department and needed someone to go with him to investigate. Harry's out of the country and the other Aurors on call were out chasing leads of their own." She fidgeted with her wand. "He asked me to go with him, but I hadn't forgot the promise I made to you last summer. I was - I was wondering, well, hoping really, that you would come, and uh, let me go along, as well."
Severus stared down at her silently. Unsurprisingly, she couldn't read his expression. Was it anger? Annoyance? Curiosity? She may as well have been staring at a stone for all the good trying to ascertain his reaction was doing.
At length he said, and there was a hint of surprise in his voice, "You came to ask permission?"
Hermione nodded. "I gave you my word. I would never go against that."
He seemed to consider this briefly. "Give me a moment. I need to fetch my cloak and inform Minerva we will be leaving the grounds."
The door slammed unceremoniously in her face.
Despite the gesture, however, Hermione grinned widely. In an instant her memories took her back to when she had hunted Death Eaters mercilessly. Those were her darkest and most unforgiving hours, she knew; but the prospect of going out and investigating, perhaps skirting the slim chance that something might lead her to discover her parents' murderers, well, that left her with a dark sense of satisfaction.
Severus returned a moment later, throwing a black cloak around his broad shoulders. "Where are we to meet Weasley?" He had already broken into a crisp walk, heading for the main entrance of the castle.
"The visitor's entrance to the Ministry," Hermione supplied, dashing a few feet to keep up with him.
Severus nodded. They swept past the four giant hour glasses a moment later. "What did he mention of this 'disturbance'"?
Hermione shook her head, pausing in front of the double oak doors as Severus unlocked them with his wand. "He didn't delve into specifics. He seemed rather adamant that we hurry. I'm sure he'll fill us in the moment we -- "
" -- Weasley is aware I am accompanying you?"
Hermione frowned. "Yes. I - I told him that I couldn't come unless you were with me."
Severus didn't deign to respond, rather, he stood back with an arm gestured to the huge doors as Hermione walked in front of him, quickly making her way down to the Apparation point beyond the gate. They arrived soon enough, pulling hoods over their heads, dodging through the pounding rain, and then Severus stepped close to Hermione, holding his arm out for her.
She stared at it blankly for a moment, blinking slowly as raindrops fell off her eyelashes. "But, I don't need to Side-Along. I know how to get to the Ministry -- "
" -- If you wish to come along on what is likely to be a rather fool-hearty mission, Hermione; you will do everything I request of you."
She paused, remembering what Harry had told her about his doomed mission to the cave with Dumbledore, just before he had died. He made me promise to do everything he said, Hermione. I had to promise to leave him and save myself, if that's what it came down to. I had to force him to drink that awful potion.
Suddenly apprehensive, Hermione suppressed a chill. That had been a mission to retrieve a Horcrux. Certainly, that had to be infinitely more dangerous that a mild disturbance in Liverpool. Severus would never make her promise those awful things, would he?
If he did, I doubt I'd have the fortitude to go along with it. I could never just ... leave him, or Ron.
A second later she grabbed his arm. And then, instantaneously, she felt the uncomfortable pull at her navel as she was whisked away into nothingness.
Hermione stumbled as she landed. She was silently grateful for the sturdy looking building just off to her left; she quickly made her away over, leaning her arm against it as she breathed a little raggedly.
Side-Along Apparation never was one of her strengths when it was she that was the one being pulled along blindly. When she Apparated herself or held on to another, she could feel the control, and could guide herself rather easily. But being yanked along blindly into nothingness still felt her feeling somewhat off balanced.
"You ought to practice Apparating," Severus drawled behind her. "I assumed you mastered that skill while at school, along with the rest of your peers."
"I did," Hermione retorted, still getting a handle on her breathing. "I just don't do well with Side-Along, is all."
"Ah. Of course," Severus said.
Hermione was spared, thankfully, from having any further comment on the matter; a tall man approached from the east corner of the building.
"Hermione?" Ron asked, walking into the pool of light from a street lamp, illuminating his face and ginger hair. "Is that you?"
"Who else would it be, Weasley?" Severus snapped, as Ron held his wand out at length.
"Oh, uh, Professor Snape," Ron said uncertainly, eyeing the man in front of him. "I wasn't sure that you'd be able to come."
Severus sighed, glancing over at Hermione, who was finally standing tall again. "Let us dispense from the unpleasantries, Weasley. Where are we headed?"
Ron pulled a small piece of parchment from his Auror's robes, lighting his wand to read the writing. "Liverpool. Just along the waterfront and the docks, it looks like."
Severus nodded. "Very well, then. Hermione?"
Hermione looked up at him. "Yes?"
"Do you feel as though you are capable of Side Along once more? It would not do for you to retch all over Weasley's pristine Auror robes."
Hermione scowled, walking over to Ron. "I can hold my own just fine, thanks."
"Right then," said Ron, reaching out for Hermione. "I'll, er, I'll just Apparate Hermione there and then come back for you, sir - "
"-- You will do no such thing, Weasley," Severus snapped, his eyes blacker than ever in the night.
"Severus," Hermione admonished, her brow furrowed.
Ignoring her, Severus stepped toward Ron. "You will take me there first and come back for Professor Granger. Of the three of us, she is the least trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts - assuming you retained anything from your Auror training. It therefore makes the most sense," he emphasized, "to leave someone fully trained at this unknown and presumably dangerous location while you return for her."
Ron looked like an awkward first year, fumbling with the parchment and his wand. "Oh, er, right, Professor. That's makes the most sense, I suppose."
"Of course it does, Weasley. Now take my arm. Let us get this over with."
Ron walked slowly over to Severus. They stood at almost the exact same height; Severus may have had the edge - but only just. Clearing his throat, Ron awkwardly reached out to grab his former professor's forearm.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Weasley!" Severus snapped, reaching out and snatching Ron's reluctant arm. "Apparate. NOW!"
Hermione stood back as the resounding crack of duel Apparation snapped through the night. Ron returned a few seconds later, red faced and cursing.
"Bloody hell, Hermione," he muttered, walking over and hastily grabbing her arm. "You didn't say that the man was still a complete git! I'd of thought he'd be much more tolerable now that he's not a bloody spy. Merlin's balls..."
"It takes time, Ronald," Hermione said with simplicity, doing her best to ignore his vulgarity. "He associates you with school and Harry. Give him some time. I've had several rather lovely conversations with him - "
" - That's not likely. He thinks I'm a prize idiot. If I never have to converse with him again, so much the better for both of us."
Hermione frowned. "Well, suit yourself, Ron. But there's no better wizard alive when it comes to fighting the Dark Arts. You couldn't have asked for a more competent man to come with us."
"I still don't see why he had to come in the first place," he huffed.
"Because I gave him my word, Ronald," Hermione retorted. "Now, let's go. We're wasting time."
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, turing to Apparate, "you sound just like him."
Rain was falling lightly in Liverpool. Hermione stumbled again, feeling slightly dizzy as Ron kept a firm grip on her upper arm.
"You all right there, Hermione?" he asked, scanning the docks.
"Yeah," Hermione muttered, standing tall and walking a few tentative steps to shake off the dizzying sensation and the light buzzing in her ears. "I'm fine."
"The docks on this side of the waterfront are practically empty," Severus said, coming up on them from behind. Hermione and Ron both whipped around, startled. "Are you sure this is the correct location, Weasley?"
"Um, yes, sir," Ron managed, though clearly uncomfortable. To be sure, he reached into his robes and pulled out the parchment, studying it silently for a moment by the light of his wand. Raindrops fell onto the paper, smearing some of the ink. "Yeah, this should be the right place."
"And what exactly is this 'disturbance' that we are meant to be investigating?" Severus came around and stood close to Hermione, who was brandishing her wand and pulling her hood up.
Ron shrugged. "Don't know exactly. The Department just sent in a memo saying that Dark magic was being used in this area. Muggles reported to the local authorities of some odd stuff happening, and a undercover wizard who works for that office contacted the Ministry."
"We should be careful about exposing our wands, then," Hermione said rationally, "if there are so many Muggles about."
Severus nodded. "Though keep them close at hand. I would much rather cast an Oblivate than be killed."
"I think I agree with you, Professor Snape," Ron said as he fingered for his wand.
"Likely, a first, Weasley," Severus commented, turning and gazing down the waterway. "Perhaps we should head south to start, working our way up the narrow alleys as we go."
Hermione nodded. Her breath steamed in the chill air. "The Pier Head, The Port of Liverpool Building, and the Royal Liver are all north, I think, and there would be far too many people around to be messing with Dark magic without anyone taking notice."
"How do you know all those bloody buildings, Hermione?" Ron asked in amusement as he turned the light off his wand, concealing them all in darkness once more.
"Because I was raised by Muggles, Ron," Hermione said with a hint of annoyance. "And subsequently, I know a fair deal about important Muggle landmarks and buildings in Britain."
"Oh," Ron said, clearly unimpressed. "Well, I reckon we should be begin, then."
"Brilliant deduction," Severus supplied, side-stepping them both and heading down the waterway. They walked in silence for a lengthy period, Severus tense and rigid, carefully checking each of the alley corners before waving Hermione and Ron forward. Pausing as they approached an interior rows of warehouses, Severus turned. "Weasley, you stay at the flank while we're navigating the alleyways. Hermione?" His dark eyes found and held hers. The rain continued to fall. "Stay between us both. Do not wander."
Annoyed, she snapped, "You don't need to protect me."
Severus strode forward with surprising speed, and if Hermione hadn't seen him physically move, she would have sworn he Apparated. None too gently, he grabbed the front of her robes, pulling her forcefully toward him. "You think I'm flaunting some pathetic display of chivalry?" he hissed, his large nose only inches from her own, rain dripping off it. "Do not flatter yourself. Of the three of us, you are the smallest, the least trained in the Dark Arts, and potentially the easiest target. I told you back at Hogwarts that you would follow my every request if you wished to come." He let go of her robes, taking a step backward. "No one is stopping you from returning to Scotland."
She wanted to explode with outrage, wanted to lecture him that she could certainly do anything Ron could, and that his comments were as insulting as all hell. But she stopped herself as she realized he was, as usual, right. She was the least experienced with Defense. What she wanted, rather, was his trust. She wasn't, after all, completely helpless when it came to wielding a wand.
So with as much dignity as she could, she muttered, "Fine. I'll stay in the middle."
Severus didn't bother to reply. He simply turned around, leading them further into the maze of alleyways. He paused once or twice, increasingly alert as they made their way further and further from the waterway.
"It's smells like rancid fish," Hermione whispered, wrinkling her nose after they turned down a particularly narrow alleyway. Surreptitiously, she cast a drying charm over her robes as they pressed on. "Should it smell stale like that?"
"All fish smell disgusting, don't they?" Ron said from closely behind her. "Even the way mum cooks them, they always smell bloody awful."
"No, Weasley," Severus said quietly, his voice barely audible. "Hermione is right. It smells like ..., " he paused, sniffing the wet air with his abnormally large nose, " ... rotten meat."
"Maybe they're waiting to dispose of it," Ron supplied.
"Shh!" Severus cut in, whirling his black robes around in the darkness of the little alley. "We should avoid speaking if we can. Something is ... not right."
Hermione frowned, gripping her wand tightly from underneath her robes. Her heart began to pound a little faster. Unconsciously, she stepped closer to Severus. So much for thinking you don't need to be protected, Hermione. She smelled the air again and nearly gagged. "Ugh, it smells like ... I don't know, like decay or something noxious," she whispered, loud enough for only Severus to hear.
He nodded his agreement, stealthily turning left down another alleyway. This alley was clogged with refuse and dead fish. But that wasn't what caught Severus' attention. He froze the moment he rounded the corner, his posture tense, as he gripped his wand apprehensively. Hanging above him, from many ropes tied from above, hung several human bodies. Their corpses spun leisurely in the breeze, rain pattering indifferently on their unmoving forms.
He swallowed, giving himself one brief second to take in the horror of it all as he stood there, absolutely still, looking up into the darkness.
They hadn't been hanged in the traditional fashion. The ropes had been tied to various hooks, and then rammed down the victims throats. The bloodied ends of the hooks jutted from the throats of men, women, and children; their heads tipped back with ropes running out of their mouths.
Behind him, Hermione gasped loudly.
"Oh my ... "
Severus whirled around. Hermione was staring up at the bodies, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with fear and disgust.
"Oh, God," she clarified, turning away.
"Hermione," Severus whispered, reaching to grab her by the shoulders. "Look at me. Apparate. Now. The Death Eaters responsible may still be in the premise. I ..." he lowered his voice, "I cannot do what is necessary if I am concerned for you."
But she seemed not to have heard him, her eyes strangely transfixed above Severus' head, morbidly eyeing the mutilated bodies.
"Hermione!" Severus whispered again, shaking her slightly. Her eyes didn't move.
"Dammit," Severus cursed, reaching to pull her against him so as to physically restrain her from looking at the carnage. But a sudden movement and the end of the alley caught his attention, and without a second thought, he released his grip on Hermione and charged forward through the pattering rain, splashing through the grime as Hermione screamed behind him.
"Severus! Severus, no! Wait!"
He checked himself and looked back at her. "Weasley! Take Hermione and Apparate to the Ministry! Wake every Auror in the office if you have to and send them back at once!"
And then he turned, and his footsteps pounded through the puddled ground around the corner of the alleyway and through the labyrinth of corners and turns beyond.
Hermione stared after him a moment with dawning horror, and then she gripped her wand tightly and made to scramble after him.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted, grabbing her roughly by the arm and pulling her back towards him. "No! You heard him. I need to fetch the entire department! Now, hold still so I can Apparate properly!"
"No, Ron!" Hermione screamed, suddenly frantic. "We can't just leave him!" She pulled furiously against his grip, but his hands tightened around her wrists like a vice. "Let me go, Ron! Don't make me hex you! I'll do it! I swear I will!"
But the next instant, Ron wrestled her forcefully against his body, and before she could scream Severus' name once more, she felt herself being whisked away into nothingness.
"What the hell was that!" Hermione yelled, the moment she stumbled to a landing at the Ministry's visitor entrance. The rain here was beginning to pound harder. She pulled away from Ron and stared up at him, her breathing erratic.
Ron's blue eyes narrowed. "You heard him! He told me to get you out of there and to fetch the Aurors, which is what I'm going to do! So knock it off, Hermione, would you?" He turned to the red telephone booth and scooted inside.
Hermione paced in front of the booth like a caged lion, sloshing through the puddles without even noticing them. Her right hand was wrapped so tightly around her wand, she doubted she retained the ability to drop the thing. "We just left him there," she said helplessly as the rain fell around her. "We left him. And whatever in the hell it was that did ... that did that to those poor people is now out there with Severus." She turned to Ron as he was about to lower into the ground and then pounded her fist on the window. "Why did you bring me here? We could have helped him!"
"Because he told me to, Hermione! Now come and get out of the rain so I can find someone to help him!"
He's right. You yelling at him will only delay whomever it is that can go and help Severus. Be rational, Hermione. You can be angry later.
She looked back up at him. "You go. I ... I need some air."
"Hermione - "
"Just go, Ron!" she shouted. "We can't waste any more time! I'm not going back, so stop worrying."
He stared at her for a long moment. "Alright. Just don't do anything stupid, Hermione."
She watched him disappear into the ground. Wasn't I the one who always said that to you and Harry? Since when did I become so impulsive?
And then Ron was gone.
Hermione's hands were trembling; her mouth was dry and she knew her breathing was ragged. Inexplicably, her visual recall kept going back to the morbid scene in Liverpool, to the grotesque faces of the poor corpses that hung from above, to the dull, bloodied hooks. To the fearful, dead eyes.
She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. It was several moments later that she realized she had slumped to the wet ground.
She wasn't completely naive to the realities of war; she had, in fact, grown up and fought in one. But she had also been blessedly spared from much of the gore and had made an effort to avoid any unnecessary details. She had know about the casualties, true enough; she had seen many of them first hand - close friends that had lain still in the Main Hall of Hogwarts, some strewn carelessly across the grounds. But most of those deaths had been, thankfully, a result of the killing curse. The bodies had not been mauled or maimed. Most had even appeared to be sleeping, though Hermione knew better.
But those men and women - those children - back at the docks, that was something out of a muggle horror film. Those kinds of things didn't happen to real people, did they? Was mankind truly that disgusting? That abominable? Voldemort was dead. Wasn't the Wizarding world supposed to get some sort of reprieve?
And then, as she always did, Hermione thought of her parents, of how they suffered at the hand of the Cruciatus curse by some sadist or equally evil witch or wizard. Did her mother die screaming her name? Did her father suffer even more? Surely, he would have done everything in his power to protect her mother. Would the Death Eaters have played with that?
God, why can't my thoughts ever have a moment's peace. Why do I always have to wonder? Will I ever be free from this torture?
She would, she felt certain. But only when she found her parents' murders. And if she never did, well, then she was doomed to be miserable the rest of her life for abandoning her parents when they needed her the most.
Just then the sight and smell of the docks came back to her, and she fought her gag reflex, struggling to stand so that if she did vomit, she wouldn't be sitting in it. But as she stumbled to her feet, the memory of the smell assaulted her again, and her legs buckled and she did fall.
Oddly, through the ringing in the ears, she thought she heard Severus cursing above her; and then there were deft hands to hold her as she slumped to the ground.
"Weasley! Get over here! She's in shock!"
And then she heard Ron, too, mumbling from somewhere nearby.
"Severus?" she coughed, fighting to keep the bile down. She looked up and there he was, sitting above her, alive and breathing. More wonderful than a sunrise, or freedom.
"Severus?" she said again, fighting to prop herself up. Her free hand reached on its own accord to gently touch his cheek, to make sure it was truly him. "But ... what happened?"
He shook his head, almost as though he didn't trust himself to speak. "Whomever it was, they Disapperated before I could confront them," he said in a dark voice. "I came here immediately after. And you," he said more softly, his impossibly dark eyes searching her face, "you need to get out of the rain."
She felt herself being lifted to her feet and then there was a steady arm around her waist. Without knowing where it came from, she felt the warmth of a drying charm. And then, walking towards them, Ron eyed the pair strangely.
"Did you faint, Hermione?"
Hermione shook her head and her hood fell back. "No, I just," she waved her arm in the air, "I keep smelling that awful smell and ... "
She cut herself off as she felt herself ready to gag again. Ron regarded her a moment longer, worry etched into his face. But then he looked up to Severus and cleared his throat. "I sent the emergency alarm to every Auror in the Ministry. I suspect they'll be arriving any moment." He shifted awkwardly. "I'm going to go head back down to organize a team and return to the docks to search for anything we might have missed and to, uh, get the bodies down."
Ron looked over at Severus with something of a grim kinship in his gaze; it was all coming together for him, horribly.
"Did you notice," he asked. "I mean, they weren't wearing Muggle clothes - the victims. They were wearing robes."
Severus nodded. "Yes," he said darkly. "I saw."
Ron swallowed. "Right, well, I need to be off then. Hermione?" he asked, looking down at his friend. "You'll be alright?"
She nodded once, rain dripping from her thick hair. "Yeah, Ron. I'm fine."
A moment later, Ron disappeared again into the red phone booth, silently descending into the Ministry of Magic atrium.
"Come," Severus said into the rain with one steady hand on the small of her back. "You should see Poppy."
Keenly feeling the ridiculousness of it all, Hermione shook her head. "No, Severus. I'm fine. Really. It's just, it's a lot to take in ... I think, I was more shocked than anything. I - I wasn't prepared to see that."
Looking down at her with an almost unrecognizable softness across his harsh features, he said in grave tones, "Do not punish yourself so severely, Hermione. No one, I do not think, would be prepared to witness that type of carnage."
"They were witches and wizards," Hermione said simply, not looking at anything in particular. "It's like, I don't know..." She looked over her shoulder as her heart kicked up against her chest. "It's like everything is happening again. The war. The only difference is, this time, we don't know who we are fighting."
Silence for a moment.
"Yes," Severus agreed, quietly, calmly. "But that does not make it impossible."
She caught a glimpse of a naked, wordless fury in his voice -- perhaps not so calm after all.
Then he controlled it again. "Come," he looked down at her, holding out his arm. "It will not do to stand pitifully in the rain when nothing more can be done this evening."
She nodded wordlessly, reaching to grab his forearm.
Thinking back to the horrid scene at the docks, Hermione knew without speaking that this marked a change in the war. No longer were the Death Eaters content with murdering Muggles. Each death was occurring more and more frequently; and now, witches and wizards were being targeted.
And what that meant, God only knew.
A week later, Hermione hesitated in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
It was early evening, just prior to supper, and Hermione was about to assist in the first dueling club Hogwarts had seen since her second year. Though Severus had, strangely, given her skills with a wand some merit, she still felt dreadfully inadequate in comparison to the Defense professor. With Dumbledore and Voldemort both dead, there was little doubt in her mind that Severus Snape was one of the most powerful wizards in Britain.
Surely, he could have asked Minerva to help -- Horace, even.
Standing there, fist hovering a few inches away from the oak door, Hermione felt profoundly inept.
And, she mused gloomily, the past week had been awful.
The Daily Prophet had dutifully reported the murders in Liverpool, as Hermione had known would happen. Eight deaths in all. Two families. Four children under the age of thirteen. While Hermione hadn't know the victims personally, the surnames had struck a chord with her, from some distant memory or encounter. And the speculations of what had truly happened were more rampant than a raging wildfire. Surely it had to be the work of former Death Eaters; but who? Were the families deliberately targeted? Or was it a random selection? What of the Malfoys? None of which really mattered. The question wasn't whether the Auror Department could pick up the pieces of this tragedy, it was whether they should even try.
For what purpose - to come to another dead end? Even the most optimistic wizard knew that nothing would be found. It was as Severus had said during his first Order meeting back from the dead - Death Eaters, despite everything, were not foolish. Where that left the rest of the Wizarding world was as good a guess as anybody's.
One thing was clear. The attacks from this group of Death Eaters were deliberate. They were meant to instill terror and fear. And they damn well wanted to be sure that each and every member of the Wizarding community knew about it. The unasked question was when and who was meant to be the next example of their power.
And then the door swung inward in front of Hermione, and she stared dumbly ahead into the stern face of the Defense professor.
Had he heard her? Or did Severus possess the uncanny ability that Dumbledore once had, to seemingly know everyone else's whereabouts?
She couldn't read his expression; but standing there, caught off guard as she was, she wanted nothing more than to drop through the floor. She wanted to throw Harry's invisibility cloak over her head and barrel back down the corridor. Instead, she looked down at her muggle jeans and shirt and said, absurdly, "I wasn't sure what to wear."
His gaze swept over her attire with apparent disgust and his lip curled. "For assisting in a dueling club? Or for skulking outside my office door?"
She blinked. She wanted to say that she didn't skulk, that that particular adjective was something she might use to describe him. Instead she said, "I wasn't sure what you'd have me do. I can move around more easily in jeans than in my robes." She met his gaze almost levelly. "And I doubt a Death Eater would care if I was dressed as a muggle instead of a witch, if it helps me maneuver better."
He sneered. "Quite."
Swinging the door backward, he stepped aside so she could enter the room.
The Defense classroom appeared virtually unchanged from when she was a student. The pictures she had tried to ignore during her sixth year still adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. As a student, she had been shocked by the images, enraged even. But now, as she walked past the portrait of a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall -- likely from the Dementor's Kiss -- she realized that she finally understood Severus' subtle attempt at humor.
"Do you really find these pictures necessary?" she asked, pausing in front of a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony.
He looked up at one of the portraits and chuckled ruefully, a deep pleasant sound. "And what would you have me display in the Defense classroom, Hermione? Images of rainbows or unicorns prancing majestically on windy hilltops?"
She snorted once, and then laughed loudly, utterly bemused by such an outrageous description. "No, no those obviously wouldn't do. Personally, I've just left the walls of the Transfiguration classroom bare."
He walked past her and adjusted the light of the room with his wand. "That is simply because you lack imagination."
She chuckled again, pulling her wand from her jean pocket. "And what would you suggest, Severus?" She tapped her wand against her chin, looking pensive. "Transfigurations gone badly? A boy that was half child, half newt?"
"Ah," said Severus, enlarging the room with a flick of his wand. "Finally, you're catching on."
Looking over at him, she smiled wickedly. "You're quite awful, Severus. Has anyone ever told you that?"
The corners of his lips quirked upward. "Yes, on...multiple occasions."
She shook her head, grinning. She had come to enjoy her playful banter with Severus more than she could ever verbalize. She had come to discover, as was evident by his horrid paintings, that Severus did, in fact, have a strange, albeit delightful, sense of humor. It was subtle and nearly hidden. But it was there. And she found herself more and more often trying to crack open whatever it was that unleashed the playful banter and his glorious deep laugh.
Leaning against a chair that had been pushed to the side of the room, Hermione asked, "So, who's the first group?"
Severus checked the time with his wand. "Seventh years. Slytherin and Gryffindor."
Hermione didn't bother suppressing the groan that escaped her lips. "Honestly, why does everyone throw those two together? You're just asking for trouble, Severus. They're going to want to hex each other to bits."
Severus' black eyes glinted in the low light. "Exactly."
"Exactly?" Hermione echoed, indignant. Her eyes went wide. "You want them to try to kill one another?"
"That would prove rather pointless in my regard, as I still wish to remain a professor at this institution," Severus said flatly. "The students will never learn a hex from a jinx if they don't feel what they are casting." He swept by her, making his way to his desk at the front of the classroom. "To give them the most realistic atmosphere of what it would be like to curse or shield against a rival, against someone they hated, I put Slytherin and Gryffindor together." And then he deftly loosed his cloak and outer robe so he stood only in his black, frock coat and carefully laid his outer garments across his desk.
"Tell me, Hermione, would you have been more prone to pay attention if it was Crabbe or Goyle that you were dueling? Or Weasley or Longbottom?"
Well, that certainly didn't say anything for House unity, but Hermione couldn't argue the logic. She was grudgingly impressed.
"Well?" Severus asked impatiently, fixing the cuffs of his sleeves.
"Er, Crabbe and Goyle. I'd pay more attention if I were dueling them."
Severus smirked. "Precisely."
000
"Welcome," Severus said in a low voice, "to your first dueling session." The seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins had finally quieted, standing on opposite sides of the classroom. "Depending on your behavior during this period and your ability to follow instructions, we may or may not have subsequent sessions."
The class was silent.
He set off around the edge of the room as his dark eyes roved over the students' upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Hermione's than on anyone else's.
"The Dark Arts," continued Severus, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-heading monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."
Hermione folded her arms, struck, more than she expected to be, at watching him in his element.
"Your defenses," Severus said, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo." Silently, he made his way to the center of the room. "These dueling sessions, however, will be strictly disarming and shielding for the time being. If you prove yourselves competent in that regard," his gaze fell onto the Gryffindor side of the room, "we may move onto other milder curses."
"Mr. Worthington," Severus snapped, looking to a tall, handsome Slytherin. "Tell me the advantages of nonverbal spells."
A dark-haired boy stood and cleared his throat. "Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," he said, "which gives you a split-second advantage."
"Very good, Mr. Worthington," Severus nodded. "Five points to Slytherin."
"Nice one, Rich," a chubby boy sitting next to him whispered loudly.
"Nonverbal spells are what you are accustomed to as N.E.W.T. students," Severus went on, "and that is what I expect in our dueling sessions."
A few students groaned.
"Professor Granger," Severus continued a little louder, ignoring the groans, gesturing to where Hermione stood quietly, "has kindly agreed to take time out of her busy schedule to assist this evening. Rest assured, she will be watching every bit as closely as I to ensure that only approved spells are being used."
The students looked back to Hermione, most of them smiling, though a few of the Slytherins regarded her in much the same way Draco Malfoy once did back when she had been a student. She sighed deeply; too utterly unsurprised to be offended.
She was, after all, the world's most famous muggle-born witch.
"You will now divide," Severus went on, "into pairs. Each pair will consist of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor. One partner will attempt to disarm the other without speaking. The the other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. There will be two pairs dueling at all times, one on the east side of the classroom, the other on the west. Questions?"
Heads shook mutely until Severus nodded. "Carry on, then. Professor Granger?"
Hermione's head snapped up, and she hurried quickly to join him in the center of the classroom as students scrambled around her.
"You will observe the pairs on the west side. I shall take the east."
She nodded once. "Of course."
A great deal of talking and movement ensued; the Gryffindor students reluctantly made their way to the center of the classroom to seek out a Slytherin partner. Hermione waited patiently on the west side of the room, just below a portrait of a bloody mass upon the ground of a body that had likely just met an Inferius. After several moments of chatter and general hesitation from both parts, Severus' voice roared over the class, "This is not a teatime partner! Grab a student from the opposite House and find a side to wait on. NOW!"
Very quickly, students in red and green paired up with one another and scurried toward one of two walls.
Hermione's first Slytherin/Gryffindor pair consisted of Blake O'Malley, one of her favorite Gryffindor students, and Jean Thomas, a quiet, but intelligent Slytherin. Severus' first pair had already begun dueling, and were both aptly casting and pairing curses in complete silence. She glanced at Severus, briefly, but his concentration was completely focused on the two students in front of him, his wand poised and ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
"Alright then," Hermione said, loud enough to be heard over the force of magic colliding from the students on the other side of the room, "Mr. O'Malley, Ms. Thomas? Take your places on this side of the room. Yes, that's perfect." She glanced around the classroom, at the looks of excitement and anticipation on each of the students' faces. She side-stepped the two dueling students and stood with those still waiting. "Right. Now when you're both ready, you will bow to one another. Ms. Thomas? You will first be the attacker and Mr. O'Malley will be the shielder. Once you've had a few rounds at those positions, you will switch. Do you have any questions?"
"No, professor," they both chimed in dutifully.
000
The dueling went marvelously. Mr. O'Malley and Ms. Thomas both dueled aptly and silently, as well as the next several pairs of students. Severus had to once intervene with a Gryffindor who thought casting a Tarantallegra would be humorous -- "But sir, it's not even a dangerous curse! I was just trying to keep him on his toes!" -- to which Severus had emphatically assigned a detention with resounding finality. "You have a date with Mr. Filch and an endless plethora of bedpans for the next week. I hope you enjoy geting an intimate look at cleaning without the use of a wand."
Hermione had to turn to cough into the sleeve of her jumper to hide her smile.
It was nearing supper and only a few pairs remained, the rest of the group panting and wincing on the sides of the room, fairly exhausted from the strain of a nonverbal duel. Richard Worthington stood to go next for Hermione's group, along with Chase Alvey, from Gryffindor. Hermione sighed internally as she eyed the coming matchup. The boys, she reflected ruefully, were publicly known for intensely disliking one another.
"Mr. Worthington, you will disarm first, if you please. Mr. Alvey, you will shield. When you're both ready, you may bow."
The Slytherin smirked and made a mock bow, too low to have any sort of real sincerity. The Gryffindor returned the gesture, trying to get even lower, if at all possible.
And then Worthington stepped forward with a powerful disarming jinx, silently blasting its way across the room. Alvey brandished his wand with surprising speed, repelling the curse with a loud pulse of magic. Worthington went for another hex, missing Alvey by inches, and shattering a desk directly behind him. There was a loud bang and a chair near Hermione exploded. The dangerous dance ensued for several long moments.
Sweat faced and panting, a frustrated Worthington eyed the ceiling above Avery and then pointed upward to the dragon skeleton that hanged from the barreled vault, and muttered a strained, "Reducto!"
The impact was like a canon shot. Bones exploded everywhere, and the massive skeleton shrieked out of the ceiling hold, collapsing perilously toward the ground.
Hermione stared, too shocked for a moment to do anything. And then she reacted with more speed and force than she would have ever given herself credit for. Shouting at the students who huddled below the dragon, she threw her wand in the air above them and cried, "IMMOBULUS!"
Huge bits of the dragon froze in place, mid-air.
But the skeleton was massive, and Hermione's spell only encased part of the dragon, leaving ribs, femurs, and pieces of the skull falling to the ground in a fury of chaos. Somewhere over the shouting and the clanging of bones on stone, Hermione heard Severus bellowing in the background. His voice, oddly, sounded distant, like something from a dream. And then, as if in slow motion, Hermione spotted two students directly below where the spine was collapsing, wands out, though too panicked to know what to do. Staring for a moment in dawning horror, Hermione scrambled over her feet, keeping the freezing charm in check, and bodily shoved the students out of the way.
The spine clanged loudly around her as bits of dust and debris filled the air. Heart racing, scanning the area wildly, Hermione heard a groan from above, and pieces of the ceiling broke free of the ribbed vaulting, and shuttered to the classroom floor. Without thinking, Hermione flung the pieces of the dragon she still held in the air toward the back of the classroom, and the wall took a deafening blow as it burst outward. Again she jabbed her wand into the air and screamed, "IMMOBULUS!" and there was the chaos of shouting and the awful sound of bone being crushed under stone as the ceiling gave way.
Coughing through the stone dust, unable to see much of anything, Hermione took in a shuddering breath as something stuck her on the side of head. Her footing wavered and instantly, she lost control of the freezing charm. Stumbling to the floor as her wand launched out of her hand, landing on pieces of bone and rubble, she threw her arms over her head and curled into a fetal position, bracing herself for the pieces of ceiling that would surely come tumbling down on top of her.
Severus, if I'd had the chance...
But suddenly Severus was standing beside her, and the floor shook beneath him.
From her position on the ground all she could see were his legs through the dust, but she heard him shouting loudly -- whether at the students, or some other charm to keep the ceiling from caving in, she wasn't certain. And then, just as suddenly as the chaos had happened, everything cleared.
"WORTHINGTON!" Severus roared from above her, "Go to the Headmistress' office immediately! You will not move from that space until I arrive or it will be more than expulsion you need fear from me, boy!"
A few students gasped.
Hermione heard a muffled, frightened, "Yes, sir," from somewhere nearby.
"The rest of you," Severus continued loudly, "if anyone is injured, proceed to the Hospital Wing this instant. Mr. Brooks! Run ahead and tell Madame Pomfrey of what has transpired. Inform her there could be several students arriving momentarily. If anyone needs assistance to the hospital wing, raise your wands in the air; those who are capable of assisting, lead on."
And then, Hermione felt Severus kneel down beside her. His frock coat was ripped, and dust was covering nearly every inch of him.
"Hermione," he said quietly, his long fingers reaching to gently cradle her cheek. His black eyes were wide and raw, searching her for injuries.
"I'm fine. I am," she muttered, propping herself up on her elbows and coughing through the dust. "I'm alright," she repeated, when he reached out to grab her forearm to steady her.
He helped her up carefully, one hand resting above her forehead as he looked up to the spider-cracked ceiling, ascertaining if any other pieces might fall. They both looked around, at the dust filled classroom and the ominous sagging of the ribbed ceiling where hairlined cracks spread from just above them.
And without thinking of what she was doing, Hermione pressed her forehead into Severus' chest for a brief moment, getting a hold of her breathing. It was a strange sensation to feel his arms wrap hesitantly around her, to feel the rise and fall of his chest, and to feel his heart, which was pounding every bit as furiously as her own.
Then she took a deep breath and stepped back and looked up at him.
"Hermione." His voice was tight, and his eyes were focused on the side of her forehead. "You're bleeding. You need to see Poppy."
Her fingers reached up to her forehead without thought, coming shakily away with a crimson stain.
"Oh," she said, after an uncharacteristically long amount of time.
"Are you capable of walking?"
Hermione considered that. She certainly felt shaky, but she tentatively pressed her weight down on one foot and then shifted it to the other, and decided she could manage.
"Yes, I'm fine. Really."
Severus nodded, though he didn't appear convinced. "Come," he said at length. "I will walk with you."
000
The classroom had emptied in a hurry. From what Hermione had been able to see, and she wasn't entirely sure that she had been completely coherent, most of the students appeared uninjured and had scurried quickly to the Great Hall to, more than likely, spread the news of what had happened in the Defense classroom. Through the rubble and settling dust, Hermione and Severus were the last two remaining.
Severus stood impossibly close to her as she made her way slowly through the corridor. She could feel the side of her arm brush against his with each step. Strangely, she didn't mind the sensation. In fact, she found herself scooting closer to him. And the way he had held her when she had leaned into him - so hesitantly at first, and then firmly, made her heart kick up in her chest. And what that meant for her, Merlin only knew - but she'd be damned if she could figure it out with him so close to her.
Her visual recall kept firing at random every few seconds, to the image of the dozen or so students under the crumpling ceiling. She shook her head, as though the physical motion alone might extricate that particular memory.
And then she heard a rushed set of footsteps coming directly towards them from the opposite end of the corridor. Severus, instantly on the defense, drew his wand. Hermione belatedly wondered what Severus thought they might encounter in the corridors of Hogwarts, but was soon distracted when she saw a very out-of-sorts Argus Filch round the bend.
"What was all that ruckus I heard back there?" Filch wheezed. His hunchback, in Hermione's opinion, looked more horrible than ever; he stooped so far over it was a wonder how he balanced himself upright. "I've told these kids time and time again that anything from that damnable Weasley shop is prohibited in this school!"
"Calm yourself, Argus," said Severus silkily, surreptitiously taking a hold of Hermione's elbow to steady her. "There was an incident in the Defense classroom. Rest assured, there is nothing in my class from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
Filch looked slightly disappointed.
"Argus, while you are here, I would impose to ask you to stand guard at the Defense classroom. The ceiling has partially caved in and is highly unstable for the time being. Make certain that no one goes in. Once I escort Professor Granger safely to the Hospital Wing, I will return to sort it out."
Filch nodded and Mrs. Norris made her presence known by stalking up to the caretaker, rubbing her head against his legs. "Yes. Of course."
"Come," Severus said to Hermione. He took her elbow again, gently, with care and precision. "You should not be on your feet."
"I'm fine," Hermione protested, for what felt like the hundredth time.
Admittedly, she felt slightly dizzy, but that was likely normal, wasn't it? After having a piece of bone or ceiling knock you on the side of the head?
The remaining journey to the Hospital Wing was in silence. Hermione's mind kept wandering back to the strange yet lovely sensation of Severus' fingers on her elbow. What did it mean, any of it? Apparently that she was suffering from delusions of a romance with a former professor - one that was nearly twice her age. Her mind raced through her memory of Hogwarts: A History, trying to recall if there was any ban on teacher to teacher relationships.
God, Hermione. Stop it! It's as though you're considering that there could be such a possibility. It's not as though he'd ever be remotely interested in you. And you don't even know what you feel for him. You're delusional. You likely have a concussion.
Madame Pomfrey was already waiting outside the double doors to the Hospital Wing when they turned the corner.
"Oh, my dear!" Poppy cried when she saw Hermione, hurrying over to her with surprising speed. "Come, darling! Let's have a look at your head, shall we?"
"How many students were injured?" Severus asked without hesitation, holding the door open as Poppy put a steadying hand on Hermione's back, ushering her through.
"Not even a handful, Severus, thank Merlin," the matron said with relief. "Just a few cuts and scrapes. Nothing serious. They could barely, however, sit still long enough for me to heal them properly," she huffed with annoyance. "Too excited about what had happened, can you believe it?"
Hermione, at least, could believe it. Images of Pavarti and Padma Patil involuntarily flashed before her mind.
"Sit down, Hermione. That's right. Any bed will do, dear. Very good." The old witch turned to the Defense professor as she settled Hermione onto a twin bed with white lined sheets. "Good gracious, Severus, what happened? I tried to get the information from the students, but it was a rush of words and inconsistencies. Is it true the ceiling collapsed in your classroom? How could that have possibly happened?"
"Yes, it is true, thanks to our dear friend, Mr. Worthington," Severus said simply, though there was a dark undertone in his voice that caused the hair on Hermione's neck to stand on end. "And he should be waiting for me in Minerva's office as we speak."
Poppy tisked as she pulled Hermione's thick hair up and out of her face. "This could have been a very dangerous situation, Severus. We are quite lucky that no serious injuries occurred."
Severus' dark eyes fell onto Hermione, though she wasn't looking at him. "You have Professor Granger to thank for that, Poppy."
"Really, Severus -- " Hermione started.
"Hermione, my dear," Poppy said in an almost scolding voice, "you get into far more trouble that is good for you. Aside from Mr. Potter, I doubt I saw anyone more in this Hospital Wing than you."
Not really knowing how to respond to such a statement, Hermione chose to remain silent. And she was mostly quiet while Poppy examined her, only answering dutifully the questions the school matron posed. Severus stood by the threshold during the entire examination, arms folded, looking grave and desolate and the school nurse worked.
When Poppy finished, she bustled over to a cabinet in her back office that was stacked to the ceiling with medicines and potions. She returned a moment later with a small vial.
"Drink this, dear. It will help with the dizziness."
Sighing deeply, Hermione obeyed, throwing her head back as she downed the purple liquid.
"Bah," Hermione coughed, wiping her mouth with the backside of her hand. "It tastes foul."
Poppy took the empty vial from her hands. "It's not meant to be a beverage," she said sternly. "It will do it's job. Now," she rested her hands on her hips, eyeing Hermione with scrutinizing eyes, "I'd like if you perhaps stayed the night -- "
" -- No, Poppy," Hermione protested emphatically, raising her hands and shaking her head. "I'm fine. It was just a small cut, is all. I'd very much like to return to my rooms tonight."
Poppy frowned. "Can you manage to relax for an entire evening, Hermione? No running through the hallways, no grading assignments, no research?"
"Poppy," Hermione retorted, sliding off the bed and onto her feet. "I'm perfectly capable of relaxing."
Severus snorted from the doorway.
Scowling in his general direction, Hermione patted her jeans to make sure she had her wand. "Um, there was one other thing, though - if you don't mind."
Severus pretended to dust off the concrete and bone from his frock coat, though Hermione was certain he was listening.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Could I, er, possibly have some Dreamless Sleep Potion? I've had a ... difficult time sleeping the past few weeks."
Poppy instantly went into action. "Hermione!" she scolded. "Why didn't you come see me sooner? Of course I can fix you up a batch, we'll just have to record how much you've been given -- it's highly addictive." She spoke as she went back to the cabinet in her office, coming back with a hand-sized bottle. "It's five drops a night, Hermione. Take any more and you'll be kneeling in front of your toilet until the sun comes up," she warned. "Understood?"
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes and convince Poppy that she wasn't some kind of addict and was perfectly capable of following instructions, she managed to nod.
"Good. Now, see to it that you rest immediately. The potion I gave you can make you a little lethargic. I wouldn't take the Dreamless Sleep tonight; I doubt it would mix well. I can send the House Elves up to deliver your supper if you'd like."
Not wanting to fight it, Hermione nodded. "That will be fine, Poppy. Thank you."
Poppy nodded once and then headed to straighten up the twin bed Hermione had been sitting on. Making her way to the doorway, Severus stepped back and held the one side of the door open so Hermione could pass.
"Thanks," she muttered softly, stepping through the threshold.
"You seem surprised," Severus mused, when they were walking along the corridor toward the stairwell. "Did Potter or Weasley not know how to open a door?"
Hermione thought about that. Harry had practically run to open any door for Ginny when they had been dating at school. Ron had been the same with Lavender. Shrugging her shoulders helplessly, she said, "I don't think they really ever thought of me as a girl -- at least while we were in school. I was just the handy friend that knew everything and could help them cram for exams." She paused, offering a little half smile. "I think they saw me as some androgynous being."
She didn't mention that when she had Ron had started dating, he had held the door open for her.
Severus was silent.
"So do you, um," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "do you need help fixing your classroom?"
Severus stared down at her darkly. "And which part about Poppy ordering you to relax did you find particularly ambiguous?"
Hermione laughed ruefully, looking to her feet. "Severus, you know just as well as I that it was a minor cut. Look!" She pointed to her forehead where the wound had been. "Not even a mark."
"Regardless," he said slowly, "are you a master in the art of healing?"
Hermione frowned. "No."
"Then you will follow Poppy's instructions."
Hermione groaned internally. He was worse the Harry.
"Fine," she said shortly. "What of Richard?"
They approached the marble staircase slowly. Severus stared straight ahead, his face grave and stern, and silently forbidding. "I will deal with him once I've seen you to your quarters."
"Oh. Well, it's just up the stairs to the seventh floor, Severus. You don't need to -- "
She trailed off when Severus stopped, mid-stride, standing there with his arms folded, implacable like the end of days, and fixed her with a non-negotiable stare. Apparently, despite how far they had come since she had first awoken in Avondale, Severus Snape could still be intimidating.
"What I mean is -- "
"Come," he said darkly, ascending the stairs. "I need to speak with Minerva about Worthington," he turned back and looked down at her, "and you need to follow Poppy's orders."
"All right," she said more gently, taking the stairs tentatively and following him. "All right then." She sighed, observing Severus' face in profile, feeling utterly helpless and needlessly looked after. The climb was slow and slightly arduous; Hermione conceded that perhaps Poppy was correct in her strict order to take it easy.
They passed the base of the north tower and turned west. Just outside her rooms, Severus paused and looked down at her, and there was that curious gentleness in his dark eyes that left her feeling slightly off balanced.
"I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier," Hermione muttered, looking down to her feet. "You saved me again today," she chuckled helplessly. "You seem to be doing a lot of that lately."
He seemed to tense a little. "You have always been rather reckless, I think."
Hermione smiled. "Just don't get it in your head that I'm some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself, you know."
Severus' lip curled slightly. "I will, of course, acquiesce to whatever you which for me to believe."
Hermione laughed. She was trying not to smile, and failing utterly. "I think that's what every woman wants to hear."
Severus raised one, dark eyebrow. "Is that so?"
She shrugged. "That's what I'm told, at least."
"Ah."
"Well, thank you, again," she paused, as a sudden thought struck her. "You don't think Minerva will be upset with you about the dueling club, do you?"
Severus sighed. "I do not know."
"I'll vouch for you," Hermione said firmly. "It wasn't your fault. If anyone should be reprimanded, it should be me. I was supposed to be watching Worthington; he was my responsibility."
Severus allowed himself a moment to consider that possibility, and then shook his head. "Minerva is the final authority at Hogwarts; I will respect whatever decision or punishment she deems fit."
"Severus -- "
"No, Hermione," he said darkly. "There is nothing more to be said on the matter."
Hearing the finality in his voice, Hermione knew there wasn't much use in arguing. Quiet, grave, and stern, he had made up his mind. "Okay," she relented, though she filed away in the back of her mind that she needed to speak with the headmistress. With all that churning in her head, she looked up at him solemnly. "You don't have to go at it alone, you know. There are those who would stand with you, if only you'd let them." She bit her lower lip. "Minerva is on your side," and then she added more quietly, "And I am, too."
Abruptly he looked back at her. "A fact I am becoming more and more aware of," he said darkly. "You should know, Hermione, you will gain nothing by association with me."
She shrugged. "What is there to gain? I like spending time with you. And it's not as though you're forcing the matter; it's my own choice."
He looked down at her in that peculiar, gentle but bottomless way she had first noticed during the summer. As if half-doubtful of the wisdom of saying it, he supplied, "Yes, I daresay it is."
Not knowing what else to say, Hermione reached to clasp his arm in gratitude - that he had prevented the ceiling from collapsing entirely on her - but then thought better of it, and let her hand fall halfway between them. Strangely, she saw some form of understanding in his eyes.
"Hermione," he said mildly, and there was a dry twinkle in his dark eyes, "do try to suppress any Gryffindor impulses you might have to do anything rash and ... rest well tonight."
She got out a shaky laugh. "As long as you keep your brooding in the dungeons to a minimum," she stuck out her hand, "I'd say he have a deal."
Severus regarded the delicate, pale hand for a brief moment. Then he reached out and took it in his own big hand.
His grip was huge, cool, bone over flesh, precisely not a hair too tight. If he held onto the soft, smooth hand that belonged to Hermione Granger longer than was necessary, it was purely by accident.
"Deal."
A/N: Okay, so I hope no one wants to throw any large objects at me at this point. I think I rewrote this chapter about five times - and to be honest; I'm still not entirely sure I'm in love with it. Sigh...I suppose that's how it goes with writing. As always, comments on the plot development and character interactions are helpful; I ALWAYS appreciate constructive criticism in a respectful, professional manner. Severus and Hermione will see more screen time as we get close to the inevitable relationship - which, I can't WAIT to write...I'm truly giddy with anticipation. A few things - Severus' speech about the Dark Arts is ALL JK Rowling. It was too perfect, and so I had to use her words verbatim. Also, all the descriptions of the paintings in the DADA classroom belong to JKR; I need to give credit where credit is due. Thank you all for your patience. I hit serious road block with this chapter, and was unsure of how to proceed. Hopefully, it will still be a nice segue into what's to come. Thanks again for the reviews - they make my day.
-Liz