Life can be funny

It was nearly midnight when Hermione returned to the castle, and even sealing the secret passageway was almost too much for her fading strength.

She could feel the magic inside her flicker, pulse erratically and nearly go out.

Five minutes it took her to close the door and tap the stones with her wand to reactivate the hiding spell. Her hands were bloody. Her wand was bloody, too. And she needed to rest against the wall, with the tattered remains of her cloak placed carefully between her bleeding back and the cold stone, before she found the strength to clean the smears of red from the secret door.

Her body was betraying her, in such a literal way that she almost found it amusing.

Then she turned around and faced the long dungeon corridor, followed by the hundreds of steps to Gryffindor tower.

She wouldn´t make it.

Her eyes flickered towards the turning that led to Snape´s classroom, then she shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

Definitely not an option. He had made it quite clear that her fate was nothing to him, and she wouldn´t turn to him for help.

Never.

But how to get to her room, to the safety of her bed and the cleanness of water and soap?

The stairs were out of the question. She had learned several lifting charms to protect herself from being stuck in the dungeons with a broken leg, but her momentary condition wouldn´t allow her any magic but the easiest spells.

Use a simple charm, she told herself sternly, nothing fancy. But which...

Suddenly, a memory flashed before her, of Harry, sitting in the library and brooding over a heavy book, desperation in his eyes.

„A simple spell", he muttered again and again, while he ruffled his hair into even greater chaos, „A simple one. But which one do you mean, Sirius?"

Fourth year. Triwizard Tournament. First task. They had been unable to find a spell against thte dragon, but Harry had finally come up with another solution.

Now, Hermione raised one trembling hand. „Accio Firebolt", she croaked, feeling the blood in her mouth wet her tongue.

She wasn´t sure whether Harry´s broomstick would actually reach her and waited tensely. But then she felt the polished wood of the handle in her hand, even before her eyes took in the slender forms of the Firebolt, and she sighed in relief.

Awkwardly, she climbed onto the broomstick, her good hand clasped on the handle while her arm and leg dragged uselessly at her sight. She had always hated riding a broomstick, but now she thanked Harry for every single lesson he had forced her to take. The ride was clumsy and painful, and only sheer luck kept her from falling a few times, but when she finally reached the door to her chambers, not more than fifteen minutes could have passed.

Sighing with relieve, she dismounted and had to stifle a cry as her legs gave way under her and she fell to the ground. Clean up, she ordered herself hastily, and forced her screaming muscles into moving, and dispose of the broomstick.

With a flick of her wand, she send it back to Gryffindor tower. Hopefully, the seventh year´s boys and been asleep already when Harry´s Firebolt had gone astray, and no one would notice.

The floor was red with her blood, and she didn´t manage the cleaning charm correctly. She had to apply it three times, and her concentration was waning. Black spots were dancing in front of her eyes as she forced herself back into a standing position.

Only a few steps more, then she would be save. She cursed her own weakness. She could do this, damnation! Only a few steps...

Somewhere, in the darkness, there was a sound.

Hermione froze, her foot dispended in mid air. She dared not breathe. There it was again! The creaking of an old, rusty door, moving slowly in its hinges. A door – or a portrait, swinging aside to allow exit!

Ignoring all pain and the rising panic, Hermione rushed over to her own portrait, placed her hand on the old canvas and muttered her password.

The echoing sound of footsteps reached her ears as the portrait swung aside and admitted her. She was nearly through when her leg collapsed under her. A gasp of pain escaped her tightly drawn lips. No one must see her!

With a last, desperate effort, she dragged herself away from the opening hole and pushed the portrait shut.

She lay in the darkness, panting and nursing her leg, not even daring to whimper, and listened to the footsteps slowly advancing towards her door.

Had she cleaned the floor thoroughly enough? Were there traces of blood on the portrait? She hadn´t thought of cleaning her hands before she had touched it! What if...

Calm down, Hermione! It´s probably a student, sneaking out after curfew. He won´t even look at your portrait. You´re perfectly safe...

But then, a voice cut into her calming mantra, and she thought her heart would stop beating.

„Hermione?"

It was Ron, definitely, there was no doubt as to the owner of this voice.

Panic seized her. He hadn´t seen her, had he? Did he know she was in here, and in what state?

„Hermione! I know that you´re in there, open the door!"

But she couldn´t! Hell, she couldn´t even move. Nor was she exactly presentable.

„I saw the Firebolt vanish and return, and I saw your door closing when I rounded the corner. Stop pretending you´re not there!"

She waited in silence for him to go away. Perhaps he would think he had been mistaken.

„All right, then don´t let me in if you think this funny", he said after a while. His voice held anger and hurt, a disbelief that she would treat him like this, and she wanted nothing more than take him into a long embrace. Unfortunately, she couldn´t use her left arm.

„I had hoped to talk to you, you know", he went on, „About what happened yesterday night. Harry´s very unhappy. He refused to talk about you all day, but I´m sure he would be so relieved if you came and talked to him. Hermione?"

Silence. A long sigh from the corridor.

„I know you don´t like the way we behave, Hermione. You think it´s irresponsible. You think we should grow up. But he´s so afraid. And when he´s on his own, in the dormitory for example, he goes all pensive and brooding. He thinks he´s going to die, I think. And very soon. All he wants is a glimpse of the life he could have had. Is that too much to ask? Is it so wrong if I distract him a bit and help him to have a bit of fun? Talk to me, Hermione!"

Wide eyed, Hermione stared into the darkness. When had it happened? When had she stopped talking to her friends, listening to them, taking them seriously? She hadn´t even noticed Harry´s mood shifts, nor Ron´s decision to make it easier for him. She had misjudged, and misjudged badly.

„So you´re sitting in there, feeling all superior, aren´t you?", Ron asked from the other side of the door, harsh with disappointment and anger, „I thought I could talk to you. I had hoped you could help me. But you never have time for us these days, always dashing around for your wonderful apprenticeship. Oh, you´re so much better than us, Miss Apprentice Granger", he mocked angrily, be she could still hear the hurt in his voice, „And of course you will have nothing to do with a pair of losers like us. And here I am, stupid little Ron, who thought he could count on you. Funny how wrong one can be. Good night to you, Hermione! I hope you glower in righteousness!"

And he left. In the darkness of her chambers, Hermone lay on the floor like a crumpled heap of bones, one hand stretched out in a useless gesture of begging towards the closed door, tears wetting her face, and unbearable pain jolting through her body.

If this was life, she could really do without it.

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Unlike Hermione Granger, Severus Snape did glower in righteous anger for the next weeks.

When she had left the room on that fateful night, he had stared after her in utter consternation. It had taken him ten minutes to understand how she had done it, and left him cursing his own carelessness and her bloody brilliance.

He had considered going after her, but known that she would be in her chambers by now. He wasn´t looking forward to create a turmoil near Gryffindor tower by banging on the Head Girl´s door and screaming for her to open it. He had still too much dignity left for that.

Instead, he had talked to Albus again. And again. But after even Albus had lost his good humour over the recurring visits by his gloomy Potions Master, he had finally admitted to himself that there was nothing he could do to change the situation.

Anger had taken over then. He was furious with her for letting that happen to herself, for going back there after he had shown her a way out, for ignoring his help and support. Judging from what her nightmares, hallucinations and the forbidden trip into her mind had revealed, she wouldn´t survive till Christmas. Not on her own, and one could barely count on the rather helpless Albus and the reserved Minerva to help. If she didn´t come to her senses very soon, Hermione Granger was as good as dead.

She obviously wanted it that way, the stupid girl.

Hermione bloody Granger. She was a red, pulsing spot in his mind. Every time he thought of her, fury, shame, ennervation and worry mingled to a ball of inextricable mental chaos that destroyed all concentration or contentment.

She behaved as if she had invented spying, damn her! As if he didn´t know the job from inside out. As if he didn´t know better than her what awaited her. Yet another of those infatuating "good persons" in the Order who chose to ignore the counsel of Snape the bastard in favour of their own, sugar coated versions of reality. Well, her ignorance would certainly kill her, but even Snape couldn´t bring himself to consider this result as satisfying.

But, naturally, no one was listening to him, and the only way to convince Albus – to tell him of what he had seen – would drive her away for sure. At least she had a bed, a roof and medical attention here. That was probably more than what Fudge would provide for if she turned over to him.

Futile thoughts, all of them. Severus couldn´t do anything about her, he couldn´t change the situation, and he couldn´t think about her without getting himself a headache.

So he stopped thinking of her.

Or at least he tried to. For it seemed that everyone had joined in the great, sinister ploy of "Driving Severus Snape mad with talking about Hermione Granger".

Albus was the worst. After several explosions of Severus´ temper, he had stopped suggesting that Severus should "help" her.

He seemed to believe that a kind of "bond" had formed between them over the fight against the addiction. The sentimental old fool. What was Severus to do, hold her hand while she bled to death? Carry a picnic basket after her while she went to battle?

"Certainly not, dear boy", Albus had tried to calm the younger man, "It´s just that you have more experience in this field than any other person in Hogwarts. You could help her to plan, develop new ways to get closer to Tom Riddle and so on. You could…"

"You don´t ask me to hand a bottle of whisky to an alcoholic, or a muggleborn girl to a Death Eater either", Snape had refused heatedly, "Why should I help Miss Granger in her determined efforts to kill herself? I do not support this type of suicide, Albus!"

Besides, he had added silently, She wouldn´t let herself be touched by me anyway after what I did. This thought had awakened the shame again, and that had darkened his mood even more.

She considered herself dead, didn´t she? She had given up and didn´t expect to get through this war alive. Why should he bother, then, bloody hell!

If she was determined to kill herself, he was determined not to worry about it. She was only a girl, for goodness sake. Though an unusually brilliant and talented one…

Draco seemed to think that Severus was the new authority for matters of Miss Granger, as well.

"She doesn´t talk to me anymore", he had told Snape one afternoon in a desperate voice, "She´s pushing me away again, even worse than before her withdrawal. She seems to think that she could endanger me."

There were tears in his eyes. Snape had to suppress a disgusted snort. Gryffindor sentimentality from a Slytherin. Dear Gods.

He wanted to tell Draco that Miss Granger was damn right about this. One successful break through her defences, and the Dark Lord would know everything about her and Draco. If she was determined to go on with it, she was right to distance herself from everyone. He had done it, too.

But the fact that Miss Granger was preparing the likelihood of her own death wouldn´t calm Draco Malfoy, Snape was quite sure about it.

So instead of the truth, he had told Draco that Miss Granger was a grown up and quite competent. Competent enough to decide what was best for her, and that he, Snape, really had important work to do, so would you please excuse me Draco, just go away!

And Draco had gone, with those impossible tears glinting in his eyes, and had left Snape with the very unpleasant feeling of guilt and a dry mouth that could only be wetted by several glasses of whisky.

Only Minerva hadn´t talked to him about her. And that really made him nervous. She had just looked at him with her steely, intelligent eyes, seemingly examining every square inch of his face, until he found himself justifying why he didn´t want anything to do with this "madness".

"Funny", Minerva said after she had listened to his ramblings for a couple of minutes, and sipped her tea. They were sitting in her living room, in front of a dancing fire that drove away the evening chill. She had said she simply wanted "a good conversation", and he had fallen for it, bloody idiot that he was.

Why was it that Minerva managed to reduce him to a babbling 10 year old every time? He could have slapped himself for accepting the invitation!

"What the hell could be funny about this situation?", he asked sullenly.

"To watch you caring about someone", she answered simply.

There we go again, he grumbled silently, She´s talking psychology to me!

"I do not care about her", he very nearly growled, "I´m just disgusted of this waste of intelligence. And as a teacher I do believe that…"

"I know, I know, Severus. Spare me", she interrupted him, smiling fondly at him, "But even if you don´t care about her at all", her tone made very clear that she didn´t believe him a bit, but he was too weary to argue the point, "I still feel strange, for I remember a discussion very much like this, a long time ago."

"We never talked about something even remotely similar to this before", he disagreed roughly.

"I know. It was a discussion I had with Albus, twenty years ago, when he informed me that you would spy out the Death Eaters for us. I was very much of your opinion, then, and was absolutely determined to keep away from you if I couldn´t protect you. I wouldn´t support such madness, and if you were so eager to kill yourself, you still wouldn´t get my blessings to it. Funnily, I couldn´t stick to my decision very long though. Must be Gryffindor sentimentality that made me stupidly help you. Do you think it would have been better if I had kept my resolve?"

She smiled at him, and for one moment her hand touched his cheek, soft and warm, like a summer´s breeze.

"I, for one, am glad for every minute I could spend with you, Severus. I won a precious friend that way, one I couldn´t do without."

He had left her a little later, for there was nothing he could say or argue after her words. No chance against Gryffindor women, he thought again, Best keep away from them.

But the thought of returning to his chambers, of sitting in the library where he had violated her mind, made him shudder.

Thus midnight found him wandering the corridors of Hogwarts once more, and even the strokes of the huge clock couldn´t rise him from his thoughts.

But the feeling of colliding strongly with a smaller body could. Anger surged through him as he rose from the floor, inconspicuously rubbing his backside that had collided painfully with the cold stone.

There, opposite to him, stood a small figure, robed and hooded. A student, obviously. What the hell possessed them to roam the school at night? Didn´t they have enough work to do? Well, he would see to it that his classes would be too tired to even consider such nonsense over the next weeks.

"What do you think you´re doing, wandering the corridors in the middle of the night?", he barked, "Lower your hood immediately."

The slender figure pulled back her hood and revealed Hermione Granger´s face, glowing in the light of the nearly full moon.

Of course, it has to be her, he groaned inwardly, Just perfect. Some God or the other is having loads of fun, I bet.

"I´m too tired for your little games, Professor", she answered, not caring to keep the weariness out of her voice, "Deduce some house points and then let me go."

"I didn´t know it was you, Miss Granger. I…", Severus´ voice died as he took in her appearance. One eye was blackened and swollen, her upper lip split, and dried blood was smeared over the lower half of her face. Her stiff posture told him that the long cloak was hiding at least one graver injury.

"Shouldn´t you be seeing the Headmaster?", he inquired while worry cursed through his veins. She had been at the revels again, and it seemed as if nothing had changed. Still she was beaten, tortured, and raped, and still she crept back into the castle, silently hiding her wounds.

He had to see Albus about this. What the hell did the old man think he was doing?

"I will, Professor, and very soon", she replied, "But as long as I am not mortally wounded, nothing will keep me from taking a long, hot shower beforehand. I´m feeling…", the sentence ended in a whisper he couldn´t make out, but he didn´t have to hear it to know how she felt. He remembered all too well.

"Dirty", he finished her sentence hoarsely, for a moment forgetting his resentment of her, "And worn out."

She nodded to that.

"Funny, isn´t it?", she asked bitterly, "That the only person who really understands me is the one refusing to talk to me. Must be my special luck. Good night, Professor."

And she vanished into the darkness.

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A/N: It´s me, the author! I´m back! (ducking behind her computer to avoid objects thrown at her). Yes, I know, I´ve been a very bad girl. I really felt terrible letting you wait so long.

But I have a good excuse! I was ill and couldn´t get enough of my brain working to write a single sentence. I really tried!

Anyway, those of you I haven´t already answered to will receive a reply over the next week.

And I promise (I swear I will keep the promise this time) to update until Wednesday!

I have decided to reunite them in the next chapter, simply couldn´t bear keeping them apart any longer. I hope that´s okay with all of you.

Now, all that is left to do (aside from pointing out that I´m addicted to your reviews and will have a withdrawal at least as painful as Hermione´s if they stop coming) is thank you once again for all your support and comments. All of you who are writers themselves will know how much they mean to me, and all who aren´t yet: why do you waste time reading this? Get going!

Oh, one more think: My humble apologies to all who read this chapter before, in the unwillingly unbetaed version that was posted first. Hope you forgive me for that. Did you at least learn a bit of German while you were at it (smirk)?

All the best, Kayly