Chapter 11

La Foresta

(The Forest)

Two quick knocks on Severus' door broke through his furious thoughts. Without looking up from his potion he waved his hand and, though wandless, freed the wards to his private lab and opened the door.

"Severus. How is she?" The headmistress had come to retrieve the little lioness at last.

"She's in there." He was barely able to conceal the venom in his voice as he pointed to the door that lead to his sitting room. He could practically feel the headmistress pinning him down with her stare.

"I didn't ask where she was. I asked how she was."

"She seems completely unexceptional to me," he snapped.

There was a pause. Then, "Severus, what happened?"

He didn't answer.

"Severus Snape."

He forced his eyes to meet hers. They were like daggers. "Please, Severus, tell me you did not add to that girl's distress even more."

He felt fury begin to bubble inside him, as if he was the potion he was brewing, held over a flame. "It was her own fault," he hissed.

Without another word, Minerva strode quickly to the door, opened it, and called for her student.
In a whirlwind of wild brown curls and soft peach sweater, the know-it-all rushed through the doorway, past her headmistress, past Severus and his potion as if they didn't exist, and out into the dungeon corridor. He didn't think he had ever seen the girl move so quickly without running.

Minerva, clearly at a loss for words, could only watch as her student practically flew from the room. Turning to Severus, her stare becoming that of a falcon hunting its prey, she said with a clipped tone, "I will have words with you later." With that, she followed Granger and shut the door to his private lab, leaving him alone in the dark as he had been.

She will have words with me later? He sneered inwardly. Fine, so be it.

If the little Gryffindor complained about him that wouldn't be anything new. And he could deal with Minerva chirping away at him so long as it meant Granger would be off his back. He would let Minerva berate him and then explain that the girl had offended his person and he had only reacted in a way he deemed appropriate. If the overly-emotional lioness had taken it too personally that wasn't his fault.

But, he knew… it was his fault. All of it was.

He should have never let the returning seventh-year open up to him...three times. Four, if you counted everything that happened last night until presently. He didn't at all regret putting a stop to Blaise's attack. But he did regret letting her feel a sense of security with him even before that. She claimed to feel safe with him, but yet clearly didn't trust his person, as she immediately assumed the worst of him. He had allowed himself to comfort her, which was not at all what he had ever been known to do before, and had allowed himself to comfort her more than once. The result was this; she, feeling as if they were more than professor and pupil—something akin to friends—and that would not do. It would be better if he just put their relationship back to where it had been in her sixth year. Back then, they hadn't talked about anything but potions and Defence. And he would just need to keep their conversations, if any, strictly to discussions about the lesson at hand or anything pertinent, assuming she wanted to continue her private lessons, which, knowing how stubborn Gryffindors could be, she would want to continue, if at least for her parents. But he would no longer allow her to open up to him about her feelings. No. No more talking about new potion studies, the new changes at the ministry, or anything that did not directly correlate with their lessons. That was what he would do. What he had to do.

Stepping back from the potion to let it simmer, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Immediately the image of Miss Granger, her brown eyes alit with sparks of fire, appeared behind his eyelids. But just as suddenly as they had appeared, her eyes changed. They were no longer angry but filled with joy. She was gifting him with a wide smile. She was chuckling, then giggling, then laughing, her head tilted back and unruly hair bouncing. And then she looked back at him, and her eyes had changed yet again. Now there were tears falling from the smoky topaz irises, the shimmering water sliding off her cheeks and pooling on the soft spot under her chin. She let out the harrowing sob that had frequented his nightmares since the night he had comforted her in the Hospital Wing. A wave of nausea rolled over him like crashing waves.

His eyes snapped open and he realized he had been gripping the edge of his workbench with both hands, causing his already pale knuckles to look stark white under the dim light of the room.

As he forced himself to loosen his grip, he heard her voice echo in the back of his head "I know you've probably already realized this, but I feel safe when you're around. Safer than I feel with most people right now. So, again, thank you."

He spun around, black cloak swirling like a tornado, and rammed his fist into the wall. He yelled with the pain, yet his throbbing hand was not enough to petrify the hurt in his heart.

-HG-

"Hermione!" The half-giant pulled the rigid witch roughly into his arms, engulfing her into a smothering embrace. The air from her lungs momentarily rushed out of her as she allowed Hagrid to squeeze her. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"I'm alright, Hagrid, really," Hermione murmured into his giant chest.

He released his hold, but placed his massive hands on her shoulders and peered down into her eyes. "I will never forgive myself for not being there," he spluttered, tears springing into his eyes. "I'm a dead-awful Head of Gryffindor House! I'm so-so sorry, 'ermione." He exploded into a waterfall of sobs.

"Hagrid, don't be ridiculous," McGonagall chided.

"Not one of us was prepared for this," Professor Weasley admitted, solemnly.

Hermione patted Hagrid's arms gently and assured him, "Hagrid, none of this was your fault. If anything, it was mine. And I know that both Professor McGonagall and Professor Weasley are perfectly fine with keeping the Gryffindors tended to in the evenings. Besides, Professor Snape was there…eventually." Her voice faded slightly at the mention of the professor who had caused her head to split and stomach to cramp only a mere hour earlier.

Knowing that the three professors with her in the headmistress's office would need her to recount the events from last night in detail, she resolved to get it over with sooner rather than later. Putting it off would only make it more difficult. Taking in a deep breath as they watched her, she turned to the headmistress and plunged into her recollection of the night before. Not wanting to leave any pertinent information out, she included every interaction she and Blaise had, leading up to the incident in question. She got through the attack painfully, having to take deep, calming breaths, but got through it eventually. She did not, however, go into detail about her roller coaster of a morning with the potions master. She still felt as if she had been wacked by the Whomping Willow.

"Mr. Zabini is currently detained at the Ministry. I've been told his mother arrived there shortly after he had been apprehended by two Aurors last night. They will be holding a trial for him tomorrow afternoon." Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione, gravely.

Hermione's stomach did a flip-flop. "So soon?" She failed to conceal the strain in her voice at the thought of having to attend a trial the very next day.

"If you would like, you would not have to be present at the trial. But, if Mr. Zabini is to receive the consequences we all know he deserves, you do need to present your case, in one way or another," the headmistress prompted gently.

"Pro-professor Snape mentioned something about… turning over my memories? Instead of making an appearance in person…just…sending in my memories for them to view." Even as she spoke, the reality seemed to crush down on her. If she did that…wizards and witches who she didn't even know—or worse still, possibly did know—would be seeing her drunk, vulnerable, and taken advantage of. They would see the brave, intelligent, respectable Hermione Granger who spent the entirety of last year helping Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort, attacked and, therefore, humiliated. Her outstanding reputation would become null and void. She would be nothing more than a childish, naïve, senseless witch.

Noticing her turmoil, Professor Weasley came beside her and wrapped and warm, reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Hermione, dear, it's going to be alright."

But Hermione was shaking her head, hot tears beginning to fall in earnest. "Everyone who sees those memories… they are all going to judge me. They are going to see me as some immature witch who got drunk and put herself into a bad situation."

"That is not what they are going to see, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall argued, her tone stern and irrefutable. "They are going to see a young witch, having fun, whose emotions was toyed with and, while intoxicated, was taken advantage of. They will see that Blaise Zabini was a coward who knew he wouldn't have a chance attacking you if you hadn't been inebriated. That his intention was to take advantage of you in one of the worst, most disgusting ways one human could hurt another. That is what they will see, Miss Granger. This will not be the first case that the court will see of this nature. I myself—" but the older witch stopped herself, seeming to realize she had gone too far, said too much. She pressed her lips together and, if Hermione wasn't mistaken, was holding back a look of shame.

Professor Weasley and Hagrid were completely silent.

But Hermione had to know. "Did… did anyone ever look at you or treat you differently afterwards, Professor?"

Taking in a deep breath through her nose, the headmistress said, carefully, "In cases such as these, the court is sworn by magic not to repeat anything of the case outside of the court room, since some trials can last for weeks or months. Once the trial is concluded and all sentences delivered, every witch and wizard on the case must surrender their memories of the case to the Ministry, where they are then delivered to Unspeakables and taken to the Department of Mysteries. This is done to protect the victims. With the exception of Unspeakables, no one knows what happens with the surrendered memories. The wizards and witches who served on the case no longer have memory of the trial, so they have no reason to think any differently of the witches and/or wizards involved."

It was a minute or two before any of them spoke. Finally, after mulling over everything in her head to make sense of it all, Hermione found herself whispering, "Luna would love to be here right now…"

The three professors looked at her, bemused, and she forced a smile. "I trust you, Professor McGonagall. If my memories won't…taint me…I will, of course, present them to the court. It's just… I've never had my memories extracted before. I'll need someone to teach me."

"That, my dear, I can do." And the headmistress gave the brave Gryffindor student a firm nod.

-SS-

He had needed air. Fresh air. Cool, crisp air.

He thought of heading to the green houses, but since it was a Sunday, he was sure that Pamona would be running around, tending to them and prepping her lessons in each green house for the following day. He was quite familiar with her routine. However, he found he couldn't stand the thought of having to interact with or be around anyone. He would probably hex off the head of anyone, student or staff, who tried speaking to him.

With that in mind, he made his way through the dungeons and out the front doors of the castle and into the biting wind of October. Luckily, he hadn't run into any of the staff on his way out. Three fourth-year Hufflepuffs had been chattering near the front doors but had quickly scurried in the direction of the Great Hall when they saw him coming. He really could look like a giant bat sometimes, and he didn't care. Bat, snake, what did it matter? Plenty of people had disliked him even before he had become the ill-tempered, strict potions professor.

He headed straight to the Dark Forest. It wasn't forbidden to him. There, he was welcome. Not in the same way that Hagrid had been welcome as the game-keeper. Severus was welcomed because he was quiet, respectful, cautious, and calm. He respected the outer edges of the forest as if it was his own garden. He never ventured in too far, as he distrusted the Centaurs, and found that a majority of the potion ingredients he needed on a regular basis could be found along the outer edges of the forest.

Choosing to visit the forest was a wise decision. His head instantly began to clear as his eyes trailed over the ground, the shrubs, the flowers, the moss, the trees. He breathed in deeply and then let it stream out slowly through parted lips. His pent-up anger and frustration released with each new exhale. He was soon able to focus on the important matters that only he could address—that of steps he could take to ensure that what happened to Miss Granger, or anything of a similar nature, would not befall any of the other students at the school. And that meant he would have to start culling out the prejudiced and resentful students in his Slytherin House. The question was… how to go about it.

As he began mulling over different ideas of how he could appeal to his Slytherins—either by coercion, punishment, or kindness (the latter being more of a last resort)—he walked farther along the perimeter of the forest, staying inside of its protective cover, but still close enough to the edge to see the castle. He was still trying to decide on a firm conclusion as to what course of action he should take when he sensed a presence in the forest near him. He stopped walking abruptly and held his breath. Sure enough, he heard the sharp snapping of a twig.

Extracting his wand seamlessly, he ducked behind a tree and strained to hear, listening for more sounds of movement. They came almost immediately. Footsteps on the forest floor. Quiet, but there. Taking in a deep breath, Severus jumped out from behind the tree, wand pointed in the direction he knew the noise to been coming from.

Luna Lovegood. Surrounded by three Thestrals and holding a…was that a kitten?

The odd witch had her hand outstretched and was lightly patting the larger Thestral on its nose. Her long, golden hair was falling down her back in waves, hovering just above her waist. Although he had hardly made a sound, she turned slowly to look at him. Her protuberant, silver-blue eyes immediately met his with a calm expression, as if she had been expecting him.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she welcomed, turning back to face the Thestrals. She was petting the creature with an intimate affection while holding tightly to the young cat in the crook of her other arm.

"Good day, Miss Lovegood." He stowed his wand and relaxed. There weren't many students outside of his own House that he could admit to tolerating, but Miss Lovegood was one of the few. While she was extremely odd, she was so in a refreshing way. And her essays always humored him. While her potion skills could always use improvement and she didn't always follow directions, she was soft-spoken, polite, and peaceful. She had never caused him to lose his temper—become exasperated, maybe, but never aggravated.

Severus was pulled out of his thoughts when the girl asked, gently, "How is Hermione?"

While the mention of Miss Granger may have caused him to feel immediate anger had anyone else mentioned her, he found that the nonchalant way she posed her question, with her back still to him, moving on to the next Thestral and petting it, did not perturb him in the slightest.

However, when he didn't answer right away, she continued, "It was awful… what happened to her. I hope you were able to help her."

"She's with the headmistress and Professor Hagrid and Professor Weasley as we speak," he replied, avoiding both her question and the sudden ache festering in his stomach.

"That's good. I'm glad you were there for her last night. It was like returning the favor."

"I beg your pardon?" Not nearly two minutes into the conversation and she was already confusing him.

Miss Lovegood reached into the bag she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a small piece of raw meat, offering it to the smallest of the three Thestrals. Severus had always been interested in the creatures, but had never befriended them. This witch seemed to be able to communicate with them in a way not even Hagrid had managed. He watched as she turned her head to look towards him and saw a small smile playing at her lips.

"Hermione found you the morning the battle ended. She helped you to Madam Pomfrey." He must've been staring darkly at her for she added, "It's not widely known. I just happened to be helping Hannah Abbot and the Patil sisters with Lavender Brown when I saw Hermione and the headmistress and Professor Sprout assist you into the Great Hall."

"And you see my interference last night as a returning favor for Miss Granger's actions?" he found himself smirking. "The girl was only doing what she felt was right. She wasn't being heroic."

Luna seemed unmoved by his dismissive words. "And so were you. You two are paralleled now. Hermione came to your aid when you thought no one would, and then continued to stay by your side until she felt sure you would be spared from death. You came to Hermione's aid when she was surely not expecting anyone would, and then, from what Neville told me, you stayed with her through the night. I am assuming that, since she's well enough to be out of bed, you only left her once you knew she was feeling better."

"Something of that nature," he mumbled. But her words had struck a chord, and had also stirred a memory he had not thought of until now. "You say that she had stayed by my side, the morning the battle ended?"

Miss Lovegood turned towards him fully, setting the kitten down onto the forest floor. Severus expected the Thestrals to come down on it with sharp teeth at once, but found himself mistaken. The kitten confidently strutted over to the youngest Thestral and rubbed its whiskers, cheek and back against the lowered head of the carnivorous beast. The witch must've trained—or communicated, rather—to the Thestrals that the kitten was not prey. Fascinating…

"Yes," she replied, seeming unconcerned at the fact that her back was turned to both kitten and Thestral.

She must've trained them well, he concluded as she continued to gaze at him.

"Do you not remember?" she prompted.

He crossed his arms and frowned. "I recall moments. That is all. I was quite delirious, I'm sure."

Her golden head nodded. "Well, I can assure you that she stayed by your side and tended to you alongside Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, sometimes even taking over completely when they had to rush to the aid of others. When my father came to take me home later in the day, she was still with you, and insisted she wouldn't leave you until she knew you were going to live. Both Harry, Ron and Professor Weasley tried to get her to leave with them, but she adamantly refused."

He had nothing to say to this. He could remember seeing her, bending over him, but her face had been blurry due to the effects of Nagini's venom. He could remember feeling someone grab his hand and squeeze it. Maybe that had been her? Had she stayed with him through the night? An entire day? Surely not. He knew that Poppy had contacted a colleague of hers in America to come and access his situation, being one of the best medi-wizards in the field of cursed venoms. Once Miss Granger had been informed of that, she should have realized he was stable enough, and would have gone to join her friends. That was what made sense. What didn't make sense was why she had continued to stay with him even when he was in the care of both Poppy and Minerva.

"You two have a lot in common, don't you?" The soft-spoken witch had again interrupted his ponderings.

He bestowed her with a look that clearly showed he was in disagreement with her statement.

She explained, "Despite her being a Gryffindor and you a Slytherin, you're both brilliant with magic, and rather near-sighted and bookish. There are other similarities, I'm sure, but those are the ones that come to my mind as we speak. And let's not forget that history does say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were the best of friends at one time. Now that you don't have to act evil, and Hermione doesn't have to help Harry constantly, it only makes sense you two would fall into a parallel. Also, you both seem to be purifying nicely, especially when in each other's presence. The same can be said for many of the staff and students who fought in the battle together. The dark auras around you both are nearly unbound. Just a little more time and I'm sure the darkness will have fallen away completely."

Dumbfounded, Severus could only survey her serious and matter-of-fact expression. He understood what she was saying, but found it hard to believe what she was implying. He and Miss Granger connected? Hardly. She was a festering potion, an unstable ingredient in his life, an infuriating, self-righteous, stubborn—

"Anyway, I really hope that what happened to her doesn't stop her from going on with her Newts. I've talked with Neville and Ginny since last night and the three of us really want to help her in any way we can, but we understand if she's not ready to talk to us. We also understand that she may not feel comfortable staying at Hogwarts, even if Zabini is no longer at the school." She was surveying his face as he had been surveying hers. "When you see her next, would you let her know that we're here for her in whatever way she needs us?"

Swallowing slowly, and feeling his fingers flexing, he managed to give the odd witch a curt nod and say, gruffly, "Of course, Miss Lovegood."

"Thank you, Professor."

He cringed inwardly as Miss Granger's voice echoed in his head after Miss Lovegood's. "So, again, thank you." He wanted to snarl at the girl who stood in front of him and tell her not to thank him. He didn't deserve anyone's appreciation or gratefulness. But as his dark eyes seemed to clear enough to see the golden-haired girl's expression, she had already turned around, scooped up her kitten, and was making her way deeper into the forest. For a second he thought about calling her back. To tell her that the forest was off-limits to students, even to seventh-years. To tell her to go to Miss Granger and pass on her message herself, and that he wouldn't be seeing the Gryffindor again if he could help it.

But that would have been a lie.

A/N: Oh, yeah, hi guys... did I mention this would be a slow-burn? Tee hee. I hope you stay along for the ride! Thank you for your comments/critiques, faves and follows!