Chapter Ten: Bitter for Sweet
The rest of the school year seemed to be well on the way to Hell in a handbasket, to coin the Muggle phrase, and Snape tried extremely hard not to appear nonplussed every time some other oddity occurred. The Weasley twins were gone, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake, although like the rest of the staff, he left the mess for Umbridge to attempt to clean up. Rather unwisely, the Aurors decided to come for Albus, which unnerved him more than he'd thought, although the Headmaster had discussed with him that it might become a possibility, given the increasingly worrying leanings of the Ministry these days. Dumbledore had always been his safety net, and it concerned Severus that if even he could be forced onto the back foot, then his own position might also become rather precarious. Nevertheless, he needed to do what needed to be done, and they would all just have to persevere and hope that things turned out for the best in the end, and that Dumbledore did really have a plan to see them through. After Minerva was hospitalised as well, Snape became decidedly paranoid.
Upon learning that Umbridge had caught a number of students trying to use her Floo network, he hastened to the Defence professor's office. He was not surprised to see Harry Potter standing there, flanked by Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Of course it would be them(!) As Potter floundered under Umbridge's interrogation, Snape locked eyes with Granger, who had given up resisting against the Bulstrode girl and was shuffling her feet awkwardly. An unusual behaviour for her, and one that caught his attention immediately. He saw her thoughts: an image of Sirius Black; the Ministry of Magic. And a large snake. The message was unmistakeable. Clearly the Dark Lord was making his move for the Prophecy. By the time Potter had thought to give him a coded message about 'Padfoot', Severus was already planning his next move. Being as unhelpful as possible, Umbridge dismissed him, and once the office door was closed he fairly sprinted down the corridors to get a message to the Order headquarters.
It was terribly frustrating for him not to be able to get involved in the Battle at the Department of Mysteries himself, but obviously that would have broadcast his allegiance rather publically, and both he and Dumbledore preferred that Severus remain undercover for the time being. Shame. He would have relished being able to go toe to toe with some of his former comrades after all this time. Never mind, his time would come, he was certain of it. When he received the news that Granger had been gravely injured by Dolohov, he made a mental note to add Antonin to the top of the list.
He was slightly less troubled to hear about the demise of Sirius Black. Not a great loss for either wizardkind or the Order of the Phoenix, he mused. Black had been worse than useless, moping about the house in London and behaving like a petulant child. He never had learned to grow beyond the self-centred, flashy wastrel of his youth.
At least Dumbledore had returned now. He had filled Severus in on the details of his confrontation with Voldemort in the Ministry Atrium, and was keeping the Potions master even busier than usual with his various schemes and jobs that needed doing in order to set things up for the inevitable showdown with the Dark Lord, or 'Tom', as the old man kept infuriatingly referring to him as.
In between running errands for Dumbledore, Snape found himself with a bit of time to kill, and as he was out of Firewhisky, decided to take a stroll around the castle and its grounds. As he passed by the hospital wing, an impulse made him push open the door and make his way into the infirmary. At the end of the row of beds lay Hermione Granger. She was engrossed in reading a copy of the Quibbler, but looked up at the sound of his soft footsteps. Pulling herself up the bed to sit, she plopped the magazine down on the bedside table next to her and smiled at him. The folded Quibbler sprang back on itself, slithering off the table and onto the floor. Hermione ignored it.
"Hello, sir!"
"Miss Granger."
"Would you like a seat?" Casting her eyes to the chair on the other side of her bed, she noticed it was piled high with boxes of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and other assorted gifts from well-wishers. "Oh..." Frowning, she patted instead at the blanket on the bed, in an invitation for him to perch on the mattress next to her. Rolling his eyes inwardly, Snape inhaled, sucked in his cheeks, and sat down, far enough down the bed that he was level with her knees.
"I heard you were injured. I was just passing and thought I would check... I thought I'd make sure that Poppy was sufficiently able to heal your injuries? It sounded like quite a nasty curse, from what I've heard." He hadn't been able to make too many inquiries of people, lest they start questioning his particular interest in the girl.
"Oh yes, sir. Madam Pomfrey's done a brilliant job! I'm still taking about five or six potions a day at the moment, but she thinks if I keep healing as well as I've done so far, I should be okay to go home in a few weeks."
"I see. Good. Well, it seems my presence here is unnecessary. I was wondering if you might perhaps be in need of having some further Healing spells performed. I've been brewing some of the potions that Madam Pomfrey is giving you at the moment anyway..."
"I thought you might, sir. Thank you, it's much appreciated. My parents are ever so pleased to know that I'm in such good hands, although of course I don't think Professor Dumbledore has told them all the details of my injury. Probably for the best, seeing as they're Muggles and all. Would you like a Chocolate Frog?" At this non-sequitur, Snape looked to see her waving her hand weakly in the direction of the confectionary-laden chair beside her.
"Ah, no. Thank you, Miss Granger."
"Oh. Well, do you think you might...? Would you mind passing me one please? It's just... I'm not supposed to be stretching or getting out of bed at the moment. Because of the internal injuries."
Silently cursing Antonin Dolohov for doing so much damage to her - and attempting to do considerably more - Snape scowled. Realising by her slightly crestfallen look that she thought he was scowling at her, he abruptly smoothed his harsh features into a neutral expression, and leaned forward reaching towards a small, angular, purplish-blue box with ornate gold edging. Slipping it out from beneath two artfully stacked bags of multi-coloured jelly beans, he swivelled across to hand it to her.
"Thank you, sir. Are you sure you don't want one? Ron's already helped out a bit, but it'll take me forever to get through all this lot. My parents are dentists you see - they don't let me eat too many sweets!"
How could he resist the convalescing witch's request? Turning back to the pile, he teased out another of the Chocolate Frog boxes and opened it. The contents immediately hopped out and onto his robes, and he was forced to pluck it from his clothing before it disappeared into the folds of his cloak. Biting its head off, he gave Hermione a nod of thanks. She was nibbling at one of the legs of her own treat and shot him a breath-taking smile. "Who did you get?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your card? Who did you get? I don't collect them myself, but Ron and Harry do. I think they have pretty much all of them by now; they trade their spares with the first- and second-years in the common room occasionally in the evenings."
Squinting down at the card attached to the packaging, he plucked it out and turned it over to reveal the picture on the other side. "Dumbledore."
"Oh, Ron's got about twenty of him, he's quite a common one I think. Just as well - he's one of the more popular wizards to collect."
Snape tried not to laugh at this. If only they knew the real Albus... "And you?" He didn't want to spend any longer thinking about Albus Dumbledore any longer than necessary.
"Salazar Slytherin. We got the wrong ones really!" She laughed. "Swap?"
"Very well." Extending a hand, he held out his card, and she reached across with her own held between her fingers. Awkwardly fumbling to make the exchange one-handed, their fingers touched for a moment. This time, Snape didn't flinch. Accidental; non-accidental, he didn't much mind. This time though, she did - reflexively drawing her hand back towards her body at the moment they met. Her grip was weak - the Dumbledore card slipped from between her fingers and tumbled onto the bed beside her.
Tucking Salazar into his tunic pocket in silence, Snape reached back over and picked it up. With his other hand, he then reached out and picked up her hand from where she was resting it awkwardly on the bedspread. Cradling hers in his, he placed the card into her delicate palm, folding her fingers closed over it, before lowering her arm back to the bed gently. Clearing his throat, he stood. "Ahem. I'm glad you're on the road to recovery, Miss Granger. Please... don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything further you need. Medically." His gaze was as impenetrable as ever. Offering a short, stiff bow, he turned away from her cubicle and left the infirmary, his boot heels clicking rhythmically across the stones.
A little bemused, but not disappointed, Hermione wondered if taking Dolohov's curse might have been worth it after all...