Two weeks into term, and Hermione started to worry. Her last session had been too many days ago.
She hadn't been able to talk to Snape at all. She obviously couldn't go to his office and talk, not when there were other Slytherins around. He rarely came for meals in the Hall anymore, except for the welcoming feast, where his appointment was met with the expected response.
Slytherins had cheered; Gryffindors had gaped and looked like codfish. The rest of them were torn in between the two, and ultimately remained politely aloof.
She had almost smiled, but caught herself in time. It wouldn't do to have Ron or Harry or anyone else notice. She thought it highly unlikely, since they were too busy imitating varied forms of animal life, but in case someone was watching.
Although the headmaster had met her eye and given a barely perceptible nod, which she returned. It was something akin to a shared secret.
Snape had also glanced at her and nodded minutely, in the pretence of glaring at Harry, who had shown his shock quite audibly, much to her advantage. Everyone was too busy staring/glaring/supporting him to notice her small smirk, directed at the man at the head-table.
Hermione briefly felt guilty for hiding things from the boys, and not exactly being supportive of their reactions, but only briefly. They would never understand.
The first of September went rather smoothly, with Harry distracted after Sirius, and Ron just happy to get away from his parents' reactions to the Ministry fiasco last term. The Weasleys were glaring and warning and in general, annoying Ron to keep away from stupid stunts.
Hermione secretly agreed with that last statement. Was it her imagination or was Ron being rather subdued? It could be because of his restricted summer, but then he should be jubilant to get away, shouldn't he?
In fact, there was had been much distraction, that no one noticed that she had turned up with Professor McGonagall, and not with her parents as usual.
Good, Hermione had thought. She needn't have fretted over answering awkward questions. She supposed, at the relieved look on the professor's face, that she wasn't the only one thinking it.
She brought herself back to the hurried, hushed conversations happening around her. Harry seemed highly agitated, and Hermione wondered if anyone actually talked with him about Sirius. She also thought Harry was placing too much emphasis on Snape's workings, when he clearly was on their side.
After Sirius, Harry obviously blamed Snape, and she knew he was aware of how unfair that was. But they needed someone to place the blame, and who else to serve the purpose than the most disliked person in their circle?
Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the dour man. It took all her control not to snap at their childish antics and grudges. She would have to watch herself around these two, but she wasn't sure how much more of Snape-bashing she could withstand before knocking some sense into their heads.
But to attempt it would mean giving hers and Snape's precarious position away, and she would give her life before having his blood on her hands.
He was the only link.
He was also her colleague and mentor.
Absurd, but true. She liked the man, understood him a little even.
With Dumbledore's summons in the offing, Harry was excited about his lessons, and it was always hushed words that they discussed these things in.
Ron, surprisingly, was proving excellent strategies for the team. It was not hard to notice his techniques were not restricted to brutal tactics, but with a good bit of sneakiness thrown in as well. Well, obviously she was the only one to notice it besides Ron himself.
Harry was only too happy to have inputs to floor the Slytherins. She knew who was training the Slytherin team. Hermione brought her focus back to the book she was reading, and pushed thoughts of Quidditch and Snape to the back.
Later that night, Hermione lay thinking about many things; not all of them connected to Snape. Her feelings for Ron were re-kindled the moment she saw him at King's Cross. It was hard not to think of him, when they were always so close. In light of her emotional state with respect to him, she found it harder to concentrate on her studies and "extra-credit work." It was with startling clarity that she realised Ron had done some growing up himself. The ministry fight must have made him look at things with a fresh light.
A small part of her hoped that his concern when she lay gasping and bleeding on the floor, was more than just for friendship. She hoped that he had realised that following Harry blindly was not the best of things, that if the order hadn't turned up, they'd probably have been dead or worse.
She remembered his blue eyes and his blood streaked face; she remembered his hand warm around her own, and gripping tightly. His re-assurances and words of comfort.
But mainly, his eyes; too bright with unshed tears, and a fierce determination within them that took her breath away. It was the last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness, and woke up days later in the Hospital wing.
The memory remained, and she replayed it over and over again.
A small tapping noise distracted her thoughts, and she realised a large owl was knocking at the window. September was unnaturally chilly this time, so the windows remained closed.
She got up to let the bird in, and it gratefully came into the warmth of the room. Parvathi mumbled something in her sleep, but didn't wake. The bird settled on her recently vacated bed, and stuck a leg out, imperious and arrogant.
Unrolling the small scroll, her heart leapt when she realised it was from Snape.
Ms. Granger,
Next week, precisely on the 19th,after dinner, would be an acceptable time to discuss your extra-credit work for Potions.
Try not to waste my time, and do not be late.
-Professor S. Snape.
He didn't have to make it sound so chiding.
Okay, well, he probably did. Atleast there were no cutting remarks. Hermione nodded to the owl, and pulled some owl treats she kept in her trunk for Hedwig.
Once the bird went on it's way, she realised belatedly that September the 19th was not so convenient, after all. She sighed, the boys had a Quidditch strategy board session in the locker rooms anyway.
What a way to spend a birthday. The upside being she didn't have to spend it alone.
She sighed and lay back down, opening a book from beside her pillow. A whispered password later, she was studying the uses of potions in warfare.
Biological warfare.