CHAPTER 10: A Poignant Lesson
"An Order meeting?" asked Ron, as they gathered in the common room after dinner the following evening.
Harry nodded. "Lupin told me."
"Those wankers! My whole family is in the Order and they didn't tell me there was a meeting. We're members now, they can't keep us out of it like that!" Ron fumed.
"What is it about, Harry? Did Lupin tell you?" interjected Hermione.
"No. He doesn't know yet. Just thought that I had a right to know as it's my house, and I'm also an Order member."
"Too right we have a right to know! We should be there! Come on, let's go to Grimmauld Place."
Hermione sighed. "Ron, turning up when we aren't wanted won't accomplish anything but make them cross with us. Appearing in London won't change that fact; they'll still keep us out of the meeting."
"Well," said Ron, searching for a rebuttal. "They need to know that we won't be kept in the dark. We'll make them tell us what they're meeting about and why they don't include us. Once we're there, we won't be kicked out, eh, Harry?"
Harry was silent for a moment. "Perhaps Dumbledore will say something about him…" Harry paused, and stumbled over the final word. "Dying. He might have wanted to keep it from us but as we already know…"
"You aren't honestly suggesting we go to London, Harry?" she asked, shocked.
He grinned mischievously at her. "You don't have to come, Hermione," he said.
She huffed. "You know very well I'm going if you are. I just wish you wouldn't."
"Come on, Mione. You really think it's fair for them to be there while we are here?"
"Of course not, but it's not worth angering the other members by showing up unannounced and uninvited. We could get in trouble."
Hermione was brought back to many other instances during their time at Hogwarts, and felt ridiculously like a child again, afraid of getting points docked or being assigned detention, or the very worst, expelled. Now the stakes were higher, and she knew that she'd cave and go along with them anyway, just as she always had. Hermione wondered vaguely if this was how Remus Lupin had felt when trying to restrain the more reckless Sirius Black and James Potter.
She sighed resignedly. "Get the Cloak, then," she told them.
Harry raced back to his dormitory to fetch his father's Invisibility Cloak and Ron smiled at her, draping an arm across her shoulders. "Knew you'd come round," he said complacently, and while she wanted to be angry at his smugness, she couldn't be when he was holding her like that. In fact, she had to fight as hard as she could to keep the smile off her face.
They were, of course, too large for all three of them to fit under the Cloak entirely, so they Disillusioned themselves and hunched over, trying to be as short as possible so the Cloak would reach further to the ground . It was awkward and uncomfortable, to say the least, but they maintained that method of movement for as long as they were in the castle. Disillusionment charms would hopefully be enough when they were outside and no one was around, but in the castle people would be able to see the shimmer as they moved.
They were almost near the entrance hall when they heard a yowl of disapproval.
"Mrs. Norris. She can see through the cloak, I think," Harry whispered. "Or smell us. Cover's blown, either way."
"Then let's run!" urged Ron.
"There's no way people won't notice or hear us if we do that!" said Hermione. It was just before curfew; people were starting to return to their dormitories, so many students and teachers were out.
"So what do we do?" asked Ron.
Nothing, actually. They were saved by none other than Crookshanks. He looked directly at them, then to the yowling Mrs. Norris, and pounced.
"Get her, Crooks!" Hermione whispered fiercely as the catfight broke out. The yowling, snarling, and hissing caused quite a commotion, drawing many students to watch the brawl. No one rooted for Mrs. Norris. When Filch showed up, panting and in quite a state of temper, he attempted to kick Crooks, but the clever ginger cat dodged, racing away beyond the old caretaker's clutches.
"Always liked that cat," commented Harry as they slipped unnoticed out the front doors.
Hermione gave an expectant look at Ron, but he didn't say anything. Apparently, despite knowing that Crookshanks hadn't eaten Scabbers, and that it wouldn't have been a bad thing even if he had, Ron still couldn't bring himself to like her familiar. Sheer stubbornness was all it amounted to, to Hermione's mind. He still couldn't admit after all these years that she'd been right and he'd been wrong. She silently gloated about it on their way to the forest.
They didn't actually walk in the forest, not after all their misadventures there; Harry meeting Quirrel-cum-Voldemort, the boys having a run in with Aragog, tricking the centaurs into running off with Umbridge, nearly being smashed by Grawp. It wasn't that Grawp wasn't a… a lovely giant… but they weren't in a hurry to have a reunion with any of those characters. Since Aragog's death, there was no such thing as a friendly acromantula. Actually, despite whatever Hagrid may say, she doubted there was any such thing before Aragog's death either.
Still, it was too chancy to stay on the main path, so they walked along the forest's edge.
"Ooh!" Hermione cried in delight, spotting an interesting species of rare night-blooming fungus nearby. "Wait here and let me collect that, will you?"
"Collect what?"
She didn't answer their questions, but darted out from under the Cloak and dashed to the trees.
She did some hasty transfiguration to make a box in which to carry her sizable mushroom, and made quick work of cutting it as low on the stalk as possible.
"Psst!" came a desperate call.
Knowing it was a warning, she froze, thanking Merlin she was still Disillusioned. Risking turning her head slightly, she saw someone approach.
At first, she thought they'd get away with it, until one of the boys, probably Ron, snapped a twig underfoot, drawing the other person's attention.
His wand snapped to attention and he demanded "Who's there?" in the deadliest voice she'd ever heard. She didn't know whether to be thankful or horrified that it was Snape, but she knew that that crazy calm in his intonation was a truly terrifying thing. She was frozen with fear, as the boys must have been too, if they had any sense at all.
"Reveal yourself," he ordered in a purr, the threat 'or suffer excruciating consequences' inescapably implied. Knowing that he must have thought she was either a naughty student or a Dark wizard trying to infiltrate the castle, the safer course was to simply admit to being out of bounds rather than be incapacitated by whatever painful curse he'd fire at her if she didn't.
She made her decision instantly, deciding to take the blame for all three of them. True, his wand was pointed to where the boys were hidden under the Cloak, but had they not been there, she'd have been directly in the line of fire.
"It's me, Professor Snape," she announced, taking off the charm that concealed her.
"Granger," he spat, not lowering his wand. So that he wouldn't approach and force Harry and Ron to move aside and possibly give themselves away, she went to him. She was about a metre and a half away when he told her to stop.
She did, watching him warily.
He advanced, pushing the tip of his wand into the crevice where her neck met her jaw. It was very uncomfortable and her heart rate shot up in a panic. She felt the wand point push oddly against her throat when she swallowed hard.
"When," he whispered dangerously, 'was the last time you were on a broom?"
She sighed in relief. It was just a standard procedure security question to confirm her identity. Then she panicked anew. She couldn't answer truthfully or Ron and Harry would find out she had been out collecting ingredients with Snape two nights ago. She couldn't not give a truthful answer or Snape would kill her thinking she was an impostor. She could invite him to use Legilimency to see for himself, but he would most likely find out that Harry and Ron were currently with her.
Quandary.
She cleared her throat. "Well, everyone knows how I feel about flying, so it couldn't possibly have been day before yesterday, could it?" she said with a tone of sarcasm that she hoped would at least confuse the boys and let Snape know that she was playing with the fact that she'd sworn him to secrecy about the truth of her latest broom ride.
To her uttermost relief, he removed his wand from her neck.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, clearly furious but not as furious as he would have been had she been a Dark wizard intent on breaking into Hogwarts.
She shrugged, and held out the open box, displaying the mushroom she had taken. "It's a—" she began but he cut her off.
"I know very well what it is. Why you are out here to collect it is the question. A remarkably stupid move, even for a Gryffindor."
"It's night-blooming, so it had to be at night. I'd hoped to find it, and be back in the castle before curfew."
"But you weren't, were you?" he drawled. "Instead, you are out of bounds, after curfew. Get back to the castle now. I'll decide when I return just how many points Gryffindor deserves to lose and what your detention will be."
Hermione grimaced at the amount he would likely take. Seeing her expression, he nodded. "That's right, Granger. The loss will be astronomical. Perhaps you'll think twice before you go harvesting in the Forbidden Forest on your own. Back to the castle. Now." Before he turned and swept down the path to Hogsmeade, he took one last glance at her rare mushroom, snatched the box away from her and tucked it under his arm as he strode away.
She was about to accuse him of simply liking to take things that weren't his, but didn't dare in front of Harry and Ron. In fact, she probably wouldn't have dared even if they hadn't been there, not with Snape's mood and considering how much trouble she was in.
She stayed silent as she slowly made her way back to the castle, knowing that Harry and Ron were following her under the Cloak.
"That was a close one," said Ron, sounding relieved.
"For you," she pointed out, reminding him that she had not escaped unscathed.
"He wasn't at all as bad as I thought he'd be," Harry remarked, brows drawn together in confusion.
"Well, you tend to bring out his temper," Hermione hedged. "And since he didn't know you were there… Besides, he's probably on his way to the Order meeting as well and too busy to dish out my punishment right then and there. I fear for Gryffindor's chances for the Cup," she said in real concern.
"Are we still going?" asked Ron.
"I can't," Hermione put in immediately. "Professor Snape will be there. And don't think you two won't be punished when you turn up there."
"It'll be worth it."
Hermione turned to Harry, knowing that it was really his decision. If he went, Ron would go. If he didn't, Ron wouldn't.
"I'm going. Once in Hogsmeade, I'll just Apparate to Grimmauld Place and—"
"No!" Hermione blurted out.
"What? Why not? We're all of age now. It's the simplest way."
Hermione didn't know what to do, how to explain what she knew. "Don't Apparate. Disguise yourselves and go on the Knight Bus."
"We're hardly going to splinch ourselves, Mione. No need to worry," said Ron, trying to be comforting.
"I'm perfectly confident in your ability to Apparate, Ronald. I'm just not certain you should. Just… promise me you'll take the Knight Bus and I'll explain why when you get back. You'll be very late if you wait around for me to explain."
Hopefully, by the time they came back from the meeting, their minds would be too occupied with the events of the meeting to enquire about that or the odd security question Snape had asked her.
Harry nodded. "You've never been wrong before," he said with a small grin as he gripped her shoulder in a friendly gesture.
"Now," she said in her 'back to business' voice. "You two can't just hop on the bus without being recognised. We don't have time to brew anything, so superficial changes will have to do."
A total of three minutes later, both Harry and Ron were sufficiently disguised. The final result left Harry with ridiculous blond hair and his nose transformed into a bulbous, almost comical protuberance. Ron, whose most distinctive characteristic was his mad mop of red hair, was simply disguised by changing it to a lengthier mousy brown and donning Harry's glasses. Their Hogwarts uniforms, of course, were transfigured into regular plain black robes.
She told them the counter spells to return themselves to normal so they could appear at the meeting without looking ridiculous and watched them conceal themselves under the Cloak again. She grinned, imagining them staggering to Hogsmeade, Harry because he couldn't see well enough without his spectacles, and Ron because he couldn't see with them.
She didn't bother worrying about how much trouble the boys would be in, and she didn't concern herself over what was happening at the Order meeting. She would learn about all about it in due course. For now, she needed to complete as much work as possible to get even further ahead in preparation for the countless detentions she'd no doubt be serving. Without the boys in the common room to provide distraction, her studies went much more smoothly.
At least she knew that they weren't immediately sent back to the castle when they arrived, for they were gone for a long time. Of course she considered the possibility that they had never made it to the meeting, that they'd had an accident, that someone had recognised and attacked them and a number of other equally disturbing scenarios, but deep down she felt that they had made it, and been bawled out, then finally allowed to sit in on the meeting, no doubt to the delight of the Weasley twins who would admire their 'damn the torpedoes' attitude.
Despite herself, her mind wandered back to being caught near the forest. Had Snape truly gone easy on her? Well, she wouldn't know until she discovered the punishment he intended to mete out to her.
Still, she couldn't get that murderous voice out of her head. The power and the confidence in the way he made his threat was almost debilitating. Actually, he hadn't even made a threat, it was implicit in the way he said, "Reveal yourself." Thinking of it made her stomach feel slightly fluttery, probably because she'd come close to being cursed within an inch of her life.
Professor McGonagall entered the common room with Harry and Ron, at the end of what had no doubt been a long and angry lecture.
"50 points from Gryffindor each for utter recklessness! You're acting just like—" She stopped herself, unable for some reason to finish the thought. Hermione had a suspicion, however, that she'd been about to say 'your father.'
She then noticed Hermione sitting on the couch in front of the fire and heaved a gusty sigh. "Miss Granger, 100 points to Gryffindor for… for… exemplary use of logic and sensibleness."
Completely flabbergasted, Hermione looked between the boys and the Transfiguration professor, but neither party offered any explanation. McGonagall sighed again and left.
"What was all that about?"
"How did you know?" asked Ron, looking impressed.
"Know what?" she replied, thinking that the answer was probably that she'd read it somewhere, most likely in Hogwarts, a History.
"Perhaps we should start at the beginning," Harry suggested. "We arrived at the Order meeting, only you were right. They were furious."
"McGonagall was right scary," Ron added.
"I mean, we knew they'd be angry but we didn't expect it to be as bad as it was. They all started arguing about relocating Headquarters and whether we should leave immediately. It was Snape who finally calmed things down by suggesting that before they jump to hasty conclusions that they ask us how we got there. Everyone went quiet and looked at us and we told them we disguised ourselves and took the Knight Bus."
"It was like everyone sighed with relief at the same time, but mum started howling again about how dangerous it had been, how foolish we were, the usual tripe."
"She said we could have ruined everything just by turning up, and it was only lucky that we'd taken the bus or that she'd put us both over her knee. And that would be just the start."
"I don't understand," said a frowning Hermione.
"Neither did we at first. Turns out the meeting had been to discuss that the Ministry has control of Magical Transportation. They know when we Apparate and Floo. Of course, since Grimmauld Place is secret kept, Order members can Floo there and then the Ministry can't see where we Floo to. They thought we'd Apparated, as we couldn't possibly have had time to fly from Hogwarts."
"I said we thought about it," admitted Ron. "And Lupin asked why we'd changed our minds."
"I told him you told us not to," Harry continued. "And Lupin said thank Merlin for that. When he asked what your reasons were, we told him you didn't give us any, we just did what you said."
"And that Greasy Git said it was the only wise decision we'd ever made," Ron snarled.
Hermione was secretly pleased by the near-compliment.
"Tell us, Hermione. How did you know not to Apparate when the Order was only just told tonight?" Harry's eyes were intent and serious, and she knew that she couldn't just wave it off as 'feminine intuition.' Harry's expression showed silent certainty and expectation. He knew she knew.
"I only had my suspicions… From what I've read in the Prophet, it seems that people had been located and attacked only moments after they arrived somewhere… even when they hadn't informed anyone of their destination. The only possibly way anyone could have got there so fast was if they could track where people Apparated. It happened too often to be a coincidence. People are so afraid of Death Eaters they are beginning to think of them as spectres or something sort of 'other being.' That fear keeps people from thinking logically, which is that they must have control of the Department of Magical Transportation."
Ron shook his head in wonder. "Always knew you were the brightest witch of our age. Saved our arses tonight. If they'd seen Harry and me Apparate, and right in front of Grimmauld Place no less, that would have been as good as letting them know where Headquarters was. Why didn't you tell us before about it, though?"
"I think about a lot of things, and I promise you wouldn't thank me for sharing every thought that comes into my head."
"No, but thanks for that one, Hermione. I mean it," said Harry. "He's right. It could have been bad."
"But instead you only have…."
Harry rolled his eyes. "A week of detention with McGonagall and 100 points from Gryffindor."
"But it comes out even, with the points she gave Hermione," Ron pointed out hopefully.
"You're forgetting, Ronald, Snape has yet to announce his punishment for my being out after curfew. It could very well be a week's detention and a hundred points as well."
Ron pouted, slumping in to his seat and crossing his arms moodily. "Git," he mumbled, just as her sickle began to burn…
.
She arrived at midnight, just as he'd requested.
Raising one eyebrow, he held up the mushroom for inspection. Hermione recognised it as the night blooming fungi he'd taken from her earlier.
"They were under that cloak, weren't they," he stated, not looking at her but at the fungus as he twirled it between thumb and forefinger.
"Yes, sir." She was surprised by how steady her voice was, and it wasn't until a moment later that she realised she wasn't afraid of him. His voice, while studiously calm, was not that same dangerous drawl he'd used outside when he had thought she might have been someone more threatening.
"You were sneaking out to go to the meeting."
"Yes, sir."
"You revealed yourself so they wouldn't be caught." Again, his tones were moderate and even.
"Yes, sir."
"And then sent them on to Headquarters without you."
"Yes, sir."
He shook his head, taking a deep calming breath.
"And you thought this was a good idea."
"No, sir." He finally lowered the mushroom and faced her, lifting an eyebrow. "I was against it, but when Harry and Ron have made up their mind about something…" She wondered if he'd noticed her use of the singular mind, as if they shared just the one between them. "The best thing you can do is go with them and try to keep them from getting hurt."
Snape eyed her for a long time, nodding slowly. She knew he wasn't using Legilimency, only studying her, yet somehow she felt just as invaded.
"I'm sorry," she said, wondering if that had been what he'd been waiting for, or some other sort of confession. "I knew that once they turned up at Headquarters, you'd figure out I'd deceived you."
"You'd gone that far, I rather wondered why you didn't just go to the meeting."
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Yes, she had known she was already in trouble, and would get into even more trouble for helping Harry and Ron, so why hadn't she just gone with them if the punishment would have been just the same?
"Because you told me to go back to the castle," she admitted, only just realising it herself. Had it been another teacher or Filch, would she have just as dutifully returned? No, indeed she wouldn't have, something she could see the Potions master had worked out for himself. She didn't know whether to be mortified or not. Was it such an embarrassing thing, to admit to someone that you respected them over most, if not all, others?
"You may start cleaning those cauldrons," he said, breaking the silence and tension that had filled the room. "Without magic."
"You know for a Muggleborn, not using magic isn't a punishment, just nostalgic." It was a rather foolish remark, in retrospect, for he gave her the most calculating look.
"Very well, come back tomorrow at eight and I'll have something more suitable for you."
He held out the mushroom for her. Surprised, she took it, thinking absurdly that most men just gave flowers. Trust Severus Snape to give a girl a toadstool. She shook her head, clearing away those foolish thoughts. It wasn't a date they were planning, it was a detention, and he was hardly giving a present; merely returning something to her… which in and of itself was surprising. He hadn't taken any points, though; that was practically like giving chocolates, a voice in her mind supplied.
Stupid girl, she told herself, yet still chuckling over the ridiculousness of that image.
"Goodnight, sir."
He barely inclined his head in response and she left, using a Disillusionment Charm and secret passages to get back to Gryffindor Tower...
.
"What are you doing tonight, Mione?" asked Ron at dinner.
"If that's a roundabout way of asking for help on your homework, I can't. I have detention."
"So've we," said Harry.
"Oi, I might've been genuinely interested," Ron huffed.
"You mean you weren't wondering if I'd do your essay since you'd be in detention all evening?" she asked wryly, lifting an eyebrow.
"Never mind," he grumbled.
"Well, I'd better get down to the dungeons," she said. "Professor Snape has already left and I imagine he'll take off more points for every minute I'm late."
"Meet in the common room after?" Harry suggested.
"If I'm not confined to scrubbing cauldrons until the wee hours of the morning. If I'm not back by midnight, just go on to bed."
Ron shook his head. "Sorry you couldn't have McGonagall like us. Rotten luck you're stuck with Snape all evening."
"Professor Snape, Ron. I'll see you later.
An odd part of her was excited. Whatever this detention was, she knew it would be challenging, and she knew it wouldn't involve cleaning without magic. Wondering what Snape had come up with, she descended into the dungeons.
Snape rose from his desk when she entered, crossing the room to her.
"Yes, sir?"
With no warning, he reached out and grabbed her chin with one hand.
"What!" she blurted, heart hammering.
"A lesson first," he answered, and entered her mind. She knew which memories she wanted to hide and which memories she didn't care if he saw. She worked on not blocking her mind entirely but showing him inoffensive memories. He was gentle inside her mind, but she could tell he was looking for something.
She was arguing with Harry and Sirius about Kreacher.
She was sitting in the common room knitting caps, and then Dobby standing proudly in front of her wearing each and every one, explaining that he cleans Gryffindor House all by himself, as the other elves are afraid of being accidentally freed.
He nodded, as if satisfied with what he'd seen.
Releasing her, Snape returned to his desk, taking from it a longish piece of parchment. "This is a list of house elf chores, provided by Mr. Filch. You are to take this list to the kitchens and assign and oversee each task. You are not allowed to say 'please'. You are not allowed to say 'thank you'. You are not allowed to forbid them to punish themselves. You are not allowed to help or encourage them in any way, including but not limited to words of praise, appreciation, or kindly looks or gestures. You will say nothing to them other than to give them their assignments and you are not to address them by name, but simply as 'elf'. You are not under any circumstance to apologise to them for your treatment of them, either during or after this detention. Is that clear, Miss Granger? If you disobey in any way, I will know."
Hermione stared at him, struck with the horribleness of it. She wanted to be angry at Professor Snape, but she could only feel self-loathing at what she would have to do. To act heartless, and order them about as if they were dirt under her feet, not magical beings with the right to wages and benefits. She felt so strongly about house elf enslavement and now she was forced to act as their slave-driver. This seemingly simple detention broke her will and heart in a way that no number of hours of disgusting manual labour could ever do.
"Please," she whispered, desperate but too reticent to try anything more dramatic. "Anything else."
"No. As you said, Miss Granger, having you clean or prepare unsavoury potions ingredients would be no punishment to you. You enjoy work too much. You've done something wrong and you need to feel it, to learn not to do it again."
True, she might break any number of rules if all she'd suffer was a few points taken and a few hours of wandless work. However, if she had known that what happened in the forest would have brought about this punishment, she certainly would have rethought her actions.
She had yet to take the parchment he held out to her. He waved it under her nose cruelly. "Go, girl. The house elves await your orders."
Bitter, angry, and resigned, she snatched the parchment away and turned on her heel, not taking any sort of leave of him.
Her steps slowed as she approached the painting of the bowl of fruit, but she inevitably reached it. Reluctantly, she tickled the pear, and it giggled cruelly, as if it were laughing at her. She didn't want to be there. She didn't want to do this.
At the first elf she saw, she bid it press and sort Hufflepuff's laundry. She'd given the order with a rising intonation, which made it sound more like a question rather than a direct command.
The coin burned and she pulled it out eagerly, hoping for an excuse to leave the kitchens. The sickle read, 'Do it properly or you will be back again tomorrow.'
She looked around the kitchens, wondering how Snape could have possibly known, trying and failing to find whatever device it was that he was using to spy on her.
In any case, it seemed she wouldn't get away with asking them to do things, only telling them.
Her second attempt was shaky, and she hated herself for doing it, but the sickle didn't warm again, so it must have been satisfactory.
The elves began eyeing her askance, her actions so far being quite the reverse from what they were used to from her. Perhaps they thought this was some sort of trick, and that she would, at some unguarded moment, pounce on them with clothes. She wanted nothing more than to reassure them, to explain that she was being forced to do this.
"Miss!" Dobby came bounding towards her, greeting Hermione happily.
She opened her mouth to respond in kind before she remembered that was against the rules. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to meet his eyes. Pulling the parchment in front of her, she looked at the next task.
"Polish the silverware." She hesitated before forcing herself to add, "Elf."
The hurt in his eyes and the way his ears flopped disappointedly made her feel like her heart was being twisted and pulled, as if it were some dampened garment someone was attempting to wring out to dry.
"Dobby will do what he is told," he said, hunched over but not in his usual attempt to curb his enthusiasm, but genuinely cowering in humility, perhaps even hurt or betrayal. She knew that Dobby would have been more than happy to do anything she asked, but he was such a sensitive creature, and she'd hurt his feelings. After having been slave to the Malfoys, Dobby had found a safe place and kind people at Hogwarts. She didn't want him to think that that had changed.
Worse was when he'd come back immediately after completing his task. She'd hoped he'd stay away but he didn't, and she was forced to coldly order him to complete another chore.
"Has Dobby done something to offend Miss?" he asked worriedly, still crouching in fearful subservience. It pained her to see him that way. Worse, she couldn't reassure him, so she merely repeated the order, still using the appellation 'elf' instead of his name. His bulbous eyes filled with tears as he disappeared with a crack, and hers did as well.
And so it continued for three hours, and Hermione grew more and more horrified with herself as her voice became increasingly steady when she gave her commands. How cold she must seem to them. How unfeeling.
At last, the final task was done and she was free to leave. Before she managed to escape the kitchens, she was once more accosted by an apologetic Dobby.
"Dobby has displeased Miss. Dobby will punish himself!"
She drew in a deep breath to shout "No!" but it caught in her throat. She wasn't allowed to tell him not to. At the first cry of pain from his self-inflicted punishment, grinding his fingertips with a mortar and pestle, Hermione raced out of the kitchens, unable to bear it. She slid down the stone wall beside the painting of the bowl of fruit, hid her face in her hands, and cried.
She was such a rotten person, having betrayed them and her own moral principles. She wasn't magically compelled to act that way, she did it on her own because she was told to. She didn't have to do the detention, she could have refused, demanded that she be assigned something different, but she hadn't even done that. What did that say about her? Shouldn't she have stood up for S.P.E.W? Why had she gone along with that terrible detention without a word of protest?
She hadn't heard him approach over the sound of her own sniffling, but as she lifted her head to swipe the tears from her eyes, she saw those characteristic black robes before her.
"Why did you make me do that?" she asked quietly, wanting to hate the Potions master but somehow unable to summon the energy. He'd beaten her down and she wasn't getting up anytime soon. Certainly a most effective detention.
He was quiet for a long moment before he replied. "When you can say or do something you know in your heart isn't right, you have truly gained the control to hide your mind. My congratulations, Miss Granger." By the way he said it, it may as well have been, 'My condolences, Miss Granger.'
She nodded shakily. "Yes, sir."
Looking up at him, she realised he lived with this pain every day of his life, having to pretend to be a Death Eater and forced to do things he reviled. His life was her detention, only infinitely worse. She wanted to hug the man who'd just made her so miserable but dismissed the impulse immediately. He would no sooner want an embrace from her than she would from Filch. What would it change, anyway? It wouldn't make the situation better. The only thing it would do would be to ease her own guilt about leaving her fellow Order member so alone in the cold.
Had he given her the detention in an attempt to make her understand him better, or had it been a coincidence? Or if not a coincidence, just a subconscious action on his part, doling out punishment that he himself lived with on a daily basis. Was it a release to him to make others feel that pain, even if it was to a diminished degree? If so, she couldn't resent any detention he gave out, no matter how insignificant the offence had been. Hermione decided she was probably over-thinking things again. He'd probably just thought to kill two birds with one stone and effect a truly poignant detention while at the same time making her a better Occlumens.
Occlumency wasn't just about hiding the mind, but the heart as well. She knew that now. It was something Harry, thankfully, had never been able to do. In fact, it was that very inability that made him so powerful. Not just anyone could cast a Patronus that could fend off a hundred Dementors…
After a moment, she realised she was still sitting on the floor, and that Professor Snape was still standing in front of her patiently. She wouldn't hug him, but she did extend her hand in a silent bid to help her up. After a moment of consideration, he reached for her proffered hand, pulling her to her feet. She didn't let go immediately, instead pumping it once in a quick but unmistakable handshake.
Not wanting to make the moment too meaningful, she turned immediately and left for Gryffindor tower.
SS
He didn't offer her tea, he didn't want to comfort her at all. She needed to be hard. Her softness, her kindness, could turn into a liability later on. Yes, it was a shame to try and ruin something good and pure, but it was war, and there were casualties of every sort. Even innocence. Perhaps especially innocence.
Not that he considered Granger truly pure or innocent. She had, after all, lit his robes on fire, helped a convict escape capture, caused irreparable damage to a classmate's face when said classmate tried to reveal information about her secret group, led a Ministry official into the Forbidden Forest under false pretences to bring said woman into harm's way…
Severus was certain the list went on.
He hoped that this would be a lesson that would stay with her.
HG
As she'd arrived well before midnight, she found the boys still up and waiting for her. Noting the telltale signs of crying, (her splotchy face and inability to stop hiccoughing) both Harry and Ron rose immediately from the sofa in front of the fire and came to her.
"What's wrong?" asked Harry.
"What's that git done?" demanded Ron. Both boys looked worried and incensed, and Hermione felt touched and loved by this show of concern.
They led her back to the sofa and sat back down, the two of them lending very sympathetic ears to her detention. She told them about it, and despite her efforts to the contrary, she began to cry again. Not sobbing, but she couldn't stop a few tears from trickling down, and the tightness of her throat made it difficult to get out more than a few words at a time, especially when remembering Dobby's reaction.
This not being what they had been expecting, they felt wrong-footed and didn't know what to say, so they settled for awkward shoulder pats.
"It'd be funny if she weren't so upset about it," Ron whispered to Harry, obviously thinking she couldn't hear.
"Harry, please could you tell Dobby and explain things to him? Tell him I'll knit him a new cap, or jumper, or tea cosy. Anything he likes, just let him know how awful I feel, and that I hope we can still be friends?"
"Sure. Tomorrow after—"
"Now?" she pleaded. She wanted to stop Dobby feeling guilty as soon as possible. She knew the elf blamed himself for her terrible behaviour, and she couldn't stand him thinking it was his fault.
Snape had forbidden her apologising to the elves, but he hadn't said anything about someone apologising for her, so she seized the loophole gratefully.
"Uh… yeah. All right. Could use a bit of a snack anyway," he said, getting up from the couch. As no one was in the common room but themselves, he removed the Invisibility Cloak from an inner pocket and flung it around himself. "See you later."
"Thank you, Harry."
"Don't mention it."
The portrait hole swung open and closed again, seemingly of its own accord, leaving Hermione and Ron alone in the common room together.
While part of her was pleased when he draped his arm around her to let her lean on his shoulder, another part wondered who cuddled with Snape when he needed comfort after returning from having to do horrible things he didn't want to do.
Actually, she didn't wonder. She knew the answer.
No one.