A girl named Hermione Granger: Year Two
Chapter Ten: Fear and pain change people
Disclaimer: I don't own it. HOWEVER, look to the very bottom of the chapter,
for my authors note, if you are curious about why Hermione was still petrified.
Severus was in his office, grading recent homework papers when Dumbledore stepped in, looking more desperate than ever. "I'm afraid there was another attack." It was shortly past Easter now, and every attack was a grim reminder that the school was in danger, but Severus felt a peculiar dread well up inside of his chest as the Headmaster sat on the plain wooden chair before his desk and rested his head in his hands. "It was a double. I can't even fathom - she knew better..." The room began to close in as the potions master caught a tear sliding down the older mans cheek. "H-Hermione?" He gasped, willing the headmaster to say that no, it hadn't been his daughter. The old man did not move. Snape dropped his quill and buried his hands in his shoulder length black hair, breathing erratically as the news sunk in. "Is she -" He swallowed hard, trying to find the will to ask, "Just - just petrified, thankfully." Dumbledore seemed to know what he'd been trying to ask.
Severus dropped his head onto his desk, and for the first time in twelve years, he cried. He did not sob, and he did not shake, as one would expect a terrified father to do, for he knew that such weakness would not help. He just allowed the bitter tears to run their course until they dried, and he took a deep raspy breath. "She is in the infirmary, her friends are there right now, but if you wish to visit, they will be gone by the time we get there." The potions master stood, bracing his arms on his desk, "I will go." He left in a swirl of long black robes, walking at a brisk pace. The blood was rushing in his ears, and he nearly didn't hear his godson calling out to him. "Uncle! What's going on?" Draco had been roaming the halls in search of his godfather since he heard the rumour of the attack.
Snape turned mid-stride and stared at his godson, not quite seeing him at first. After a moment he reached out and grabbed the boys arm, "Come." He rasped thickly, unable to bring himself to say the words. All the way to the hospital wing he thought of how the year had turned out. He had been cold and cruel to his only child, allowing her to be bullied by cruel children, in fear that their parent's would discover his secret. He had mocked her himself, in contempt of her friends, tried to have her expelled, grounded, and sent home to the muggles. He had been exactly as awful to her, as his own bastard father had been to him in his youth. When they arrived in the infirmary, he let go of his godsons arm, and Madam Pomfrey rushed him towards a hidden bed in the back of the ward.
Draco, whom had been terrified as he was dragged through the halls by his godfather, watched in horror as the curtain was drawn back. Hermione lay there, still as death, one arm extended, surrounded by a halo of bushy brown hair. The Slytherin boy inched forward as Severus Snape dropped to his knees beside the bed, a pained expression on his face. By the time he reached her bedside, he felt as though he'd run a mile, and been crushed by several bludgers. He reached out and touched her face delicately, "Is she?" His voice was higher than he'd like to admit, full of fear for the answer.
Severus had immediately grasped his daughter's outstretched hand in his own and rested his forehead against it, "Petrified. Just petrified. Thank Merlin." He whispered, unable to look up and see the pain that he would undoubtedly find on Draco's face. It had been selfish, he knew, to bring the boy along. But he just hadn't thought he could do it alone. He caught a flash of light from the corner of his eye, and he turned to see the tarnished mirror she had insisted upon removing from her vault. He felt his grip tighten over her cold hand, she had likely been attacked from behind, if she'd been holding the mirror, and her face was twisted with shock. He let his hands drop to the bed, and fisted the blanket in his grasp instead.
Draco's eyes had fell onto her face, and he was unable to look away. Her dark eyes were open wide, and her lips were slightly parted. He could see the bags under her wide eyes, evidence she had not been sleeping well; something he was at least partly to blame for. "She'll be revived." He murmured, dropping into the chair beside her bed, "When she's okay again, I'll make it up to her." He chanted the whispered words over and over, forgetting that he wasn't alone.
Severus found himself in the Headmaster's office shortly after midnight, with the portly little witch, whom was sobbing, named Charity Burbage. He felt no sympathy for her, as she wailed into one of Dumbledore's handkerchiefs, and he held his tongue as she accused him of hogging her grand daughter the whole summer. It disgusted him to see those who could flip their minds like coins, one minute vehemently stating one thing, the next vehemently denying it. He sneered in disgust as she ambled out of the Headmaster's tower, finally leaving him to speak on private matters.
"Severus, you judge too harshly." The gentle voice of the Headmaster did nothing to change his mind. "But, alas, that is not why you are here. Tomorrow, we will be called upon by Lucius and Cornelius. Hagrid and myself will be removed from the castle, and the defense of the students will fall into the hands of the staff." Severus had often wondered, in his youth, if the silver haired man before him could see the future, for he always seemed to know everything before it was to happen. "The governor's will never-" "They are only human Severus. With families, and fears. Fear can change a man's mind in an instant." This was only too true.
"What can we do? We've searched the school, we've sent ghosts to every depth, we've found nothing!" He slammed his fists against the desk, and forced himself out of the chair in which he'd sat. Dumbledore looked up at him, just as despairingly as he'd done before, "We trust in Harry. We trust in him to find the answers." It was the same answer he'd given all year, and it made Severus want to tear the hair from his skull. "What has that boy got, that you think is above your own skill!" He demanded, turning fiercely from the table, aggravated by the mention of the boy-who-lived, aggravated by the thought of placing such trust in a young wizard of no extraordinary talent. "He has a knack for finding the bad, Severus. Finding it, and ending it. When the time comes, he will be the answer."
Draco Malfoy was haunted with dreams of Hermione's prone and frozen form. His fingers tingled with the icy touch of her skin, his heart ached from her sad empty stare. He shot out of his bed in the dungeons well before dawn, with jagged, shallow breaths, drenched in sweat. He paced frantically, switching between rubbing his eyes, to try and erase the image from the hospital wing, and running his fingers through his messy, sweaty hair. He knew Hermione was Snape's daughter. He knew Kathrine had been a pure-blooded witch. He knew that Hermione was not truly a muggleborn, not truly a mudblood. But his father had said that only those unworthy, those who did not deserve magic, would be attacked. So, if Hermione had been petrified, she must be unworthy.
He closed his eyes, and grimaced at the thought. She was a Slytherin, at least inside she was, her parents were Slytherin's, for Merlin's sake. Why would the heir attack her? Why would his damned godfather not just come clean! He put on this charade, pretending to be protecting the girl, but it was not working. She was being attacked in muggle parks, and within school walls, for lies about her parents! She should never be called mudblood, for it is a lie. His eyes snapped open as an owl tapped at his dormitory window. He let it in and deftly took the offered letter, his name scrawled across the front in his father's script. He tore it open, and drank in the words. "Dumbledore will be gone this time tomorrow..." "The heir will finish their work, and disperse any mudblood scum..." "Soon the purebloods will be recognized their greatness."
He shivered and collapsed on his bed, letting the letter fall to the floor. It would all be over soon, the purebloods would reign. The idea soothed him, though he couldn't imagine why, as his friend lay petrified but a few floors away. She would be revived soon, he remembered the Professor's saying so earlier in the week. The mandrake's would be old enough in a month or so, and...she would run. She would run, screaming, from the castle if she had any sense. She had told him of her life before Hogwarts, over the summer, and he wouldn't blame her for returning. If he could, he would go himself. To have a family, siblings, love. To have happiness. She would leave for that the moment she came to; she would probably not even stick around to bid her father or him farewell. His chest filled with an angry hurt as he convinced himself. He could not believe she would be so shallow, but he knew she would. She was a Slytherin at heart, and Slytherin's knew when it was time to run. And run she would.
Draco sat in potions, but a short two weeks later, his angry slate grey eyes, burning with hate every time they fell upon the empty desk in the room. He allowed himself to imagine she had already run off. He tried not to feel the pain he saw radiate from his godfather. He spoke loudly at every chance, to mock everything that Gryffindor's stood for. "I always though father might be the one to get rid of Dumbledore." He said this, because he knew Potter and Weasley looked up to the batty old Headmaster. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst Headmaster the school's ever seen." He said this, because Crabbe and Goyle would agree to anything. "Maybe we'll get a decent Headmaster now. Someone who'll want the Chamber of Secrets open." He said this, to convince himself his father was right. Only sappy old men like Dumbledore and rotten Gryffindor's would want to muddle up the blood lines more. "McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in..." He said this to get a rise out of Potter and Weasley.
He said a lot of things, boastfully, and bragging, some to convince himself, some to convince others. "Sir! Sir, why don't you apply for the Headmaster's position?" He asked this, of Snape, to dispel the thoughts of the girl with the Professor's eyes, laying helpless on a bed. Snape offered a thin lipped smile, and Draco felt right. "Now, now, Malfoy," Snape replied, sweeping through the aisles in the potions room, "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the Governors. I dare say he'll be back with us soon enough." Draco had to believe the humbleness was an act, because if it wasn't, then he was wrong. And a Malfoy was never wrong. "Yeah, right." Draco smirked at the potions master, ignoring the answering scowl, "I expect you'd have father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job. I'll tell father you're the best teacher here sir." He had to believe what he said, because a Malfoy never lies to himself. And he was a Malfoy.
Hermione lay still in the infirmary, unblinking, not breathing, never moving, nor seeing, nor hearing.
But she was visited every night. By her father, who couldn't feel more agony, to not see her stubborn glare. To not hear her bossy voice, with the answers to questions they never asked. He would sit beside her bed, and watch her silently. He would grasp her hands, when he felt too weak to leave. And when he grew weary, he would lay on an un-used bed, and rest dreamless. When students showed up, to sneak and see their friends, he would scare them away.
Hermione would never see this side of her father, she would never see him dote on her, she would never hear his apologies for being cruel. She'd never hear the stories of her mother, or the red haired, muggleborn witch he'd wished she was. Severus Snape didn't leave the infirmary unless it was time for class, but his daughter would never know this.
End chapter ten!
Ok, I did receive a question I'd like to answer.
Firstly, I know it's tricky to remember because Severus Snapes father is only mentioned less than a handful of times, if more than once. Snape is only a half blood himself, so Hermione isn't exactly a pureblood. Kathrine was a pure-blood, Sape a half-blood, so that makes Hermione about thre-quarter-blood, which I think would still be considered half.
And, as for the basalisk, I believe that it attacks whomever it is told to. And as the snake is being controlled by Ginny (possessed by voldemort), and Ginny believes Hermione to be muggle-born, it is still conceivable that she would be petrified.