Author: Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.
Beta: Tinian I'att. Thank you, your help is so appreciated!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.
T/N: I think I should stop saying sorry for the long wait and just keep moving forward at my own pace (even if it's a snail's one). I felt discouraged and also that I didn't do a good enough job with this translation. I hope you still enjoy this story!
My Universities
Chapter 11
"You may only be someone in the world, but to someone else, you may be the world."
Gabriel García Márquez
20th of January, Thursday:
On Thursday evening, Professor Snape expected me at a consultation. Much had happened the previous night: not actual events, but changes in my inner world and in my perception of some things. I hadn't slept all night, thinking over everything that had happened in the evening, and I concluded that I needed to sort out my life. The storylines of my novel either broke off gracelessly or tangled in odd knots, slipping away from my hands uncontrollably. I didn't feel too good about that, I loved clarity and order. I used the sleepless night to bring matters under control and sort everything out.
First, Dick. I needed to begin with him. Although it would seem that, I had already dealt with him, it was necessary to start actually acting around him as if nothing had happened. Mentally, I deleted his name from the 'boys' category and moved him to the 'friends' category, where Harry, Ron, and Jason were, and now Emile too. It was important to do this. A psychologist would probably recommend that I write a real list and cross out Dick's name literally, so that the symbolism of the action would sink deeper into my consciousness and somehow change it.
Second, Emile. I had to try to forget about the small humiliation with his confession. More often than not, what makes us flushed and embarrassed doesn't really matter to others, because they're worrying about something else. From the back of my mind, I took out a small dusty chest of Shame, opened it with a key and, not allowing other humiliating memories to get out, I shoved the memory from the lawn inside. I closed the chest, but I didn't put it too far away since I was going to need it again soon.
Third, Kenneth. Although, not so much him as the project with Merlin's College. I just planned to have a talk with Kenneth and use one-syllable words to explain what would become of him if he tried to approach me ever again. The project, however... I really wanted to take part in it. To do that, I had to speak with Professor Snape.
This brought me to the fourth point — Professor Snape. Here the decision was especially difficult to make, but I found the answer; I concluded that cold politeness would be the best tactic in this case. A very presumptuous decision since the professor was one of those people who could easily infuriate, but I could be firm too. Claudia often reproached me for my self-control, my restraint in expressing feelings, and my manner of responding with single-word sentences. The time had come to use these negative, in the opinion of my friend, traits for the good. I couldn't allow this cunning calculating man to wipe the floor with my already atrophied pride and to humiliate me at every opportunity.
All of this left me completely alone in the arena of my personal life, but I wondered if I really needed a relationship since it seemed they were nothing but trouble. Keep people at a distance, and you won't have any problems. Let someone get too close, take a place in your heart, your mind, and your life and everything around you plunges into chaos.
Having come to this conclusion, I realized that I didn't have to be beautiful and attractive in a feminine way. What did I care what men thought of me? I was a smart witch — no matter what Snape said — I knew a lot, I had a future in potions, and that was all that should interest me.
I didn't need anyone, anyone at all!
Keeping that in mind, I went to the consultation with Professor Snape. The victory of sense over feelings allowed me to be confident in my abilities, and I was ready for anything.
This time, each student was assigned a time, so when I entered the auditorium, the professor was alone.
"Good evening, Professor Veans," I said flatly.
"Good evening, Miss Granger," Snape echoed.
I sat on the chair opposite him, with his desk between us.
"These are the results of the work done over the previous week, sir," I said, handing him a long parchment covered in tiny handwriting.
Snape looked at the extensive text with displeasure.
"Brevity definitely isn't among your talents," he commented.
I said nothing.
"Is that all?" Snape asked, running his eyes over my report. "Do you want to add anything? To comment?"
"No sir, that's all. I tried to write out the material in as much detail as possible so that there was no need for extra explanations."
I praised myself mentally – my tone was professional and devoid of emotion, just as I wanted.
The professor raised an eyebrow. Looking at my report again, he said:
"You have done very little over this week."
I was silent.
"You should have already read Aurelius, which would have allowed you to progress significantly."
"Yes, sir, I'll do it this evening," I said, although my heart began to race.
I'd read a vast amount of literature, and I couldn't call the professor's words anything other than cavilling.
"You should have done it yesterday evening," Snape replied, casually tossing the parchment onto the desk and looking directly at me.
"Yes, sir, I'll do it yesterday," I agreed coldly, though unable to avoid a daring answer.
The professor narrowed his eyes.
"Do you find this funny?"
"No, sir, I'm sure this is very serious," I answered with a stony face, looking at Snape.
He clenched his jaw.
"You spend too much time on entertainment," he said, and I could hear the anger in his voice.
"You're right, sir. It won't happen again."
"Your idle and frivolous lifestyle is absolutely unacceptable if you're really aiming to achieve something!"
"Yes sir."
The professor's breathing became more rapid, he was definitely trying to keep his emotions in check.
"You..." he began, looking into my eyes, and suddenly freezing.
I waited.
"…are dismissed," he finished in an unexpectedly calm voice after a short pause.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
"Go, Miss Granger," Snape said insistently, and I rose from the chair. "I'll read your report and we will discuss it next Thursday."
"Yes sir. Goodbye," I uttered quietly.
He didn't respond. I left the auditorium and leaned against a cold wall.
I'd managed to get through the conversation just the way I'd planned, so why did I feel an irresistible urge to cry?
──────── • ✤ • ────────
22nd of January, Saturday:
On Saturday, I had to go to Quidditch, as I'd promised. Claudia was ecstatic and talked nonstop about how she would miss these Saturdays after we'd graduated from university. Emile, who had decided to wait for us in our room, seemed calm, but his eyes shone with frantic impatience. My friends had probably seen the same look in mine when I still liked Dick and was looking forward to an upcoming meeting with him.
We went to the stands where we usually sat, and I was startled to see Professor Snape next to our regular seats.
"Hello, Professor Veans!" Claudia exclaimed cheerfully, she believed that since he no longer taught her anything, she could allow herself some familiarity. "It's been a while since we've seen you here!"
"I've been to several matches but I sat in the stands for professors."
The question of what prevented him from sitting there today was just on the tip of my tongue but I said nothing, waiting for Claudia to walk around me and take a seat beside the professor.
"'Mione, why are you stalling?" asked my friend, apparently expecting me to sit beside him.
"Hermione," I said through gritted teeth, "and I'm waiting for you to pass."
"No, no, you go!"
"I can't condemn Emile to sit next to you for the whole game and listen to your chatter," I said.
"Don't you feel sorry for the professor then?" Claudia asked with a laugh, flopping down on the seat next to Snape anyway.
"No," I muttered quietly, never knowing if anyone had heard my answer.
The match hadn't started yet, so with my right ear, I listened to Claudia babble about how she didn't like any of the new lectures, while with my left ear I listened to Emile sigh, which he did every time Dick flew past us during the warm-up.
"Oh, look!" Claudia suddenly shouted, almost deafening me. "In those stands across from us, it's Alex…what's his last name…Thompson, or something like that."
I looked at my friend with a bored face.
"Don't you remember? He fancied you in second year!"
"I don't remember," I replied.
"Well, I certainly recall you going to the movies together back then."
"Oh, yes, just once. And from that alone, you, as always, concluded that he liked me."
"Of course! And the fact that he never invited you again is understandable. Some men are afraid of smart women."
"And that's why they're dating you," I replied sarcastically.
A chuckle sounded from Claudia's right side. I deliberately didn't look at the professor, although, more than likely, there was a grin hovering about his lips.
"Oh, you're such a wit." Claudia lightly shoved me with her shoulder. "It's not surprising that men fall in love with you, you're so sharp-tongued."
"Nobody falls in love with me," I said gloomily.
"Oh, but they do," Claudia retorted confidently, hugging me.
"In your fantasies!" I replied angrily, pushing her away a little.
Claudia sighed in displeasure, drawing back from me. Then, having grunted "spitfire", picked up her binoculars to observe the players warming up.
"Hermione, it seems to me that you're deliberately building a wall between yourself and other people," Emile said suddenly, and I slowly turned to him.
"And you're a psychoanalyst now?"
He immediately fell silent, and I felt a little ashamed. After all, there must be a line between being unsociable and rude. I didn't want to become Professor Snape!
Still, I didn't want to apologize and thereby admit that I was wrong. Moreover, since Snape was there, I needed to maintain the image of a cold and indifferent lady.
"Tell me how did Thursday evening end? Did Kenneth bother you?"
Emile shrugged.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, not understanding the gesture.
"Well… okay, I guess. But it's not important. Nothing special."
"If he offended you, tell me, and I..."
"Hermione," Emile whispered, barely audible, "I may be gay, but I can stand up for myself."
To be honest, I didn't get that impression, but it was wrong to judge a wizard's strength without ever seeing him in action.
"'Mione... Hermione!" Claudia exclaimed, and I shifted my gaze to her, "There's that American girl Dick is in love with! Look!"
Claudia began to shove her binoculars into my hands. I glanced sideways at Emile; he was sitting with an absent expression on his face.
"Claudia, I'm not interested," I replied, pushing the binoculars away. "I don't care who he's in love with."
"Oh, yes, now you're interested in another person," Claudia said meaningfully.
I looked at her warily. For some reason, I felt that now she would put her foot in her mouth.
"Now you like The-one-who-is-not-who-he-pretends-to-be!"
I froze with my mouth hanging open, trying to find the right words and not start yelling.
"I didn't say that I liked him," I replied indignantly. "I said that I thought I liked him a little, but when I found out who he really was, the delusion passed."
"Are you always so fickle in your relationships with men?" Professor Veans's voice suddenly sounded.
I leaned forward slightly to see him behind Claudia. He looked at me without a trace of mockery.
"Come again?"
"I asked if you are always..."
"Sorry for the insolence, sir," I interrupted him. "But do you think this conversation is any concern of yours? It's private, and just because our current circumstances allow you to hear it doesn't give you the right to interfere."
"What's the matter, Miss Granger?" Snape asked with a wicked grin. "Does the truth taste bitter?"
I felt ready to snap and say something stupid again, so I straightened up slowly, took three deep breaths, and chose to ignore the question.
"The game is on!" Claudia announced joyfully though that had already became apparent from the roar erupting from the stands.
For the first few minutes of the match, I tried to follow the game, but soon I got bored. I began to look around, examine the spectators, and, finally, just play with the tip of my scarf.
"I don't understand why you're wasting your time, Miss Granger," Professor Veans said loudly so that I could hear him despite Claudia sitting between us. "If watching Quidditch doesn't give you any pleasure, you could put your time to good use and, for example, work on your diploma."
Since the question didn't strike me as provocative, I answered:
"I have an everyday routine with time for both work and fun, sir. But thank you for worrying about my studies."
"Although I'm a man, so I don't really understand why girls love to watch sweaty young men flashing before their eyes, engrossed in chasing one ball and running away from another."
I snorted. It had become clear that the professor was just warming up before delivering the finishing blow.
"Yes, sir, it's true. There are things that not everyone can understand," I answered politely.
"Then again, I had a better opinion of you. I was sure that you wouldn't waste your time indulging the whims of these empty-headed boys."
"You know, Professor Veans, it was better when you tried to insult my intelligence. It's so absurd to accuse me of promiscuity, frivolity, and flattery that it makes me laugh rather than offends me."
"Then laugh," Snape echoed, "you don't have that many reasons to in your life."
"What touching concern for my humble person," I said coldly, repeating his own words.
"Maybe we should switch places?" Claudia suggested enthusiastically, seeing the professor's and my passionate desire to communicate.
"No!" Snape and I answered with one voice, and my friend got noticeably disappointed.
"This lady manages to irritate me even while sitting away from me," the professor said, "I dread to think what would happen if she sat next to me."
"Maybe you'll burst from the size of your overgrown ego? It seems to me that your love for yourself becomes more acute when I'm around," I replied.
"When you are around, my love for everything becomes more acute. Because compared to you everything suddenly seems beautiful."
"Now you've gone too far," Claudia said since I was unable to come up with a decent reply.
"Nobody asked your opinion, miss," Snape spoke angrily.
However, Claudia couldn't be fazed that easily.
"Hermione is my friend, and I won't let anybody hurt her. She's gorgeous, but very insecure! You see that and try to take advantage of this weakness in order to hurt her more. You act like a five-year-old boy who likes a girl and pulls her pigtail trying to get her attention. Just keep in mind, words can hurt worse. And if you really care about Hermione the least bit, you should start acting like a grown man now."
Snape heard Claudia out without a word, as I did, and then replied:
"Don't bite off more than you can chew, Miss Marinescu. You should learn to keep your thoughts to yourself, and not convey them to everyone who's ready to listen at the risk of running into trouble."
"Don't you threaten me!" Claudia exclaimed recklessly.
I began to worry for my friend's health and tried to stop her, but her persistence in defending me had already carried her away.
"Maybe I talk a lot, and maybe I'm not as smart as Hermione, but there is something that I know for sure about you two!"
Here she paused dramatically, and both the professor and I raised our eyebrows inquiringly.
"I see more than you all think I do," she said meaningfully and suddenly screamed, "YEAAAAH! Well done! We won!"
In the end, I did lose my hearing for a few seconds, and those were the most blessed seconds of my life. Then we all started to leave the stands, and the professor vanished somewhere in the crowd. When we approached the locker room's exit to wait for Jason, Dick, and the rest of the team, I turned to my friend.
"Claudia, I appreciate that you stood up for me but you shouldn't have done that."
"Pfff, what can he possibly do to me?" she asked. "I did what I would do to any smug man who dared to offend you, no matter where he worked."
"Claudia, this is important to me!" I groaned. "He's my academic advisor. I don't need any extra trouble with him."
"I think it's too late for that. Your relationship crossed all appropriate lines a long time ago, so you can simply forget about those lines."
I snorted.
"I haven't crossed any lines! Not all of them, at least..."
"Hermione, Hermione. What an interesting personal life you have," Claudia muttered.
"Is it true that you're seeing Professor Veans?" Emile suddenly asked, coming up to us at the very same moment Claudia voiced her last thought.
I looked at him in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, everyone says you're secretly dating."
"Who's everyone?" I asked threateningly, putting my hands on my hips.
Emile stepped back a little.
"Well...some...guys..."
"Who started this nasty rumour?"
I turned my eyes to Claudia, but she shrugged innocently. I looked sternly at Emile again.
"I don't know, I just heard it from someone, and today you two talked in such a way that I thought..."
"In what way did we talk?" I asked, raising my eyes to the sky.
"Well...kind of…not like a student with a teacher ...more like..."
"Like people who care about each other," Claudia helped him.
"That's nonsense! We had an argument."
"A lovers' quarrel," Claudia corrected.
"Go to hell. You have everyone in love with someone, and everybody is liked by somebody," I replied, turning away from both of them.
"Sorry, but if he didn't care about you, he wouldn't have provoked you. And if you didn't care about him, you wouldn't be mad and wouldn't answer him," my friend said smugly. "As I said, I see more than you think I do. Hermione, I'm never wrong when it comes to love."
I turned and looked at her skeptically.
"Emile, could you excuse us for a moment?" I asked without taking my eyes off Claudia.
Emile nodded happily and stepped aside.
"You're never wrong, are you?" I asked, slowly walking closer to Claudia and looking her straight in the eyes. "Never? Did you know that Emile doesn't like me at all? And thanks to you I made a complete fool out myself in front of him, saying that I would never return his feelings?"
Claudia didn't seem flabbergasted, just mildly surprised.
"Then he's in love with somebody else," she said. "Why are you so upset, you didn't like him anyway!"
I clenched my fists and tried to take three deep breaths. That helped a bit.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," I said, gesturing to Emile to come back.
"Good, because I just remembered some juicy gossip," Claudia said contentedly. "See that redhead over there? Last week, the guys caught her in the locker room with Gilbert Brüning, they were making out there during Quidditch practice, and the team returned to the locker room at the most inappropriate moment..."
I rolled my eyes.
"Merlin! Who the hell is Gilbert Brüning?"
"Oooh, but I've told you! He's…"
Thankfully, I only had to listen to half of Gilbert Brüning's biography since the university team had left the locker room. I heard joyful shouts all around as everyone praised the winners. Then a huge crowd moved towards the Bludger. I didn't believe that everyone would fit in it, but I definitely underestimated the property. It accommodated not only Stonehenge's team and fans, but also some players and supporters of the opposing team.
I was bored most of the evening, only occasionally entertaining myself with a short conversation with Jason or watching the people around me. At some point, I found myself next to Dick. We started talking about books, and, after making sure, that Emile was busy talking with Claudia, I said:
"I'm currently reading a very interesting book written by a Muggle author. There's a fascinating plot about what could have happened if Hitler hadn't been born*. And it's not a historical novel or a philosophical work, but a fiction book. I'm simply in raptures about it; one senses that Mr. Fry — the author — is not only a real talent in the field of literature but is also very well versed in history."
"Hitler? My father told me about him," Dick said thoughtfully. "As I remember, he was Grindelwald's ally?"
I frowned slightly.
"That's not proven…but that's not the point. I just wanted to say that the book is quite good. Although the main character is gay and the romantic plot of the novel develops between the main character and another young man."
I looked expectantly at Dick but didn't get any comment from him.
"It doesn't matter to me but some think very poorly of homosexuals," I said casually.
Dick shrugged.
"I've never met anyone gay. And until that happens, I'm completely indifferent to them," he replied, and it was obvious that he was telling the truth.
Thus, I was convinced that Emile didn't have any chance at happiness with Dick.
──────── • ✤ • ────────
23nd of January, Sunday:
On Sunday, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and I met in Diagon Alley, where we had reserved a table at a small restaurant. There was no particular reason; we'd just decided to try something new in our free time and to have a delicious meal.
We caught up with each other's important news, discussed how the preparations for Harry and Ginny's wedding were going, and mocked Ron who wouldn't tell us the name of his new girlfriend. Then, I decided that it was time to put the Plan in motion.
"Oh, I need to go to the library later today to work on my diploma," I said casually.
"Typical Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "Harry and I haven't even come up with a theme yet."
"But it's already the end of January!" I said indignantly.
"Exactly," Ginny agreed with me, "I keep telling them the same thing. But is there any way to explain anything to these lazy people? No. They're happy to wave their wands in class, fighting off imaginary opponents, but when they need to use their heads, it's almost impossible to make them work."
"Remind me, what do you need to do for a diploma?" I asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.
"Take some old unsolved case and work on it. Attempt to find new clues, or suggest your own view on who's guilty and who isn't," Harry replied. "Try to use all the skills acquired during our studies and write a detailed report. Actually, the second part is the main thing. Nobody really expects us to solve something that Britain's best minds have been wrestling with."
"Well, yes, of course," I said. "Still, it must be interesting."
My friends shrugged, for them, it had become routine quite a while ago.
"But what if you really managed to solve a case," I spoke dreamily.
"Yeah, that would be cool," Ron agreed. "But it's very unlikely."
"Besides, we haven't even chosen a case yet," Harry said. "It's not as easy as it sounds."
"I don't know…" I drawled. "You could pick something related to Voldemort."
The boys looked at me with interest.
"For example..." I pretended to think. "Well, just offhand, the first thing that came to my mind: you could try to prove Professor Snape's innocence."
Ron frowned thoughtfully and Harry was obviously curious. Ginny squeezed Harry's hand:
"I think that's a great idea," she said. "You've been talking about that for a long time."
"Yes," Harry agreed, "the idea is definitely interesting."
"Sounds great," Ron backed his friend up, "especially if we succeed."
"I believe in you immensely," I assured them, "even more so since there's some personal interest here. You'll put in twice as much effort not only to get a good degree, but also to right a wrong."
Harry, Ron, and Ginny nodded in unison, and I smiled.
──────── • ✤ • ────────
24th of January, Monday:
According to my day planner, on Monday I was supposed to meet with Professor Snape. He didn't know about it yet, but he was going to find out. I looked at the schedule and noting with satisfaction that in ten minutes he was about to finish his lecture, went to the auditorium where he would be.
The lecture ended, and students began to leave the auditorium. Many of them looked at me with interest; some began to whisper and even giggle. I lifted my chin high and kept a straight face.
The professor was the last to leave the lecture hall and having noticed me, he said:
"Are you imitating a monument, Miss Granger? You're right; the lack of decorative elements in this building is simply offensive."
"I wanted to talk to you, sir," I replied without a trace of a smile.
"All that's ever on your mind is talking," the professor said and began walking down the hall.
I hurried after him.
"It's about the Merlin's College project, sir."
"Naturally."
"I think I can take part in it, professor."
Snape looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh, do you? Hmm, well, of course, you can."
"Really?" I asked hopefully.
"No!" he snapped, stopping abruptly and staring at me.
"But, sir," I began plaintively.
"I've already explained to you my point of view on this matter. It seemed to me that you agreed with it."
"I was too shocked to react adequately," I replied dryly.
"Please accept my condolences. Lack of self-control is indeed very depressing."
With those words, he turned away from me and walked further along the corridor, but I wasn't ready to end the conversation.
"Kenneth isn't foolish enough to attack me again. Moreover, we can arrange to be in different groups, and then we'll hardly see each other."
The professor ignored me and I started to get angry.
"I don't understand what caused such concern for my safety," I said sarcastically, a little out of breath from walking so fast.
"Forgive me, Miss Granger, for I have such an obnoxious nature," the professor said with fake remorse, "I'm constantly worried about the lives of my careless students."
"But you don't really care about me!" I exclaimed desperately.
"I'm glad you got that impression," Snape replied indifferently.
I stopped, pressing my palms to my cheeks.
"You are just an insufferable person!" I shouted after him. "Why can't you just talk to me?"
Snape shrugged as he walked, not even bothering to stop.
"I'm so tired of you," I whispered, "so tired..."
──────── • ✤ • ────────
12th of February, Saturday:
Three weeks passed like a dream. I became depressed and spent my days in the library, sometimes leaving it to go to a lecture and sometimes to have lunch. Every Thursday I brought Professor Snape a report on my progress, which he silently examined, and, after making a few dry comments, returned to me with notes about what I needed to do during the next week.
These meetings were quite painful for me. For some unknown reason, every time I left the classroom, I felt like the most unfortunate person on earth, although I should've been happy because I had finally managed to establish a purely professional relationship with the professor.
Nothing was right. I was unable to convince Professor Pitch that I could participate in the project with Merlin's College. The dean stood her ground, saying that she would allow me to do that only if she had the consent of my advisor. Then she added with a bit of spite that if she were my advisor, this predicament, of course, wouldn't have occurred. I sometimes thought that it would've been better if I hadn't decided to write a diploma on poisons, if I hadn't found out the truth about Professor Snape, and if I hadn't missed the days when I was working in the laboratory with Professor Veans.
I honestly tried not to grieve about the past, and, as Claudia advised, to live in the present, but this present was so bleak that only a masochist could enjoy it.
Speaking of Claudia, she did her best to support me. I didn't know what she knew, how much she understood, and how much she didn't, but her behaviour was very pleasant, especially in the last week, not too intrusive, but spirit lifting.
"'Mione-shiny!" she exclaimed, flying into our room after lunch.
"For Merlin's sake, Claudia…"
"Hermione Jean Granger!" my friend called with feigned sternness and plopped down on my bed. "I've got good news for you!"
I looked at her expectantly. She hid her hand behind her back and said:
"Hocus pocus!"
And with these 'magic' words, she pulled two tickets from behind her back.
"These are tickets to the theatre! Jason invited us."
"Us?" I pointed out.
"Yes. He noticed that you've been looking kinda down lately, and decided to invite both of us to the theatre. Are you happy?"
"Well, yes, actually," I answered, eyeing the tickets. "But I've never heard of such a play – 'An Awfully Big Adventure'**. What's it about?"
"No idea!" Claudia answered and ran to look for something to wear.
I'd become less picky about clothes recently – simple black robes were my constant companions. I felt confident and invisible in them, but of course, Claudia wasn't going to let me dress as I wished.
"Because of this sack, no one can see your figure! If your robes were even a tiny bit fashionable, then I would've allowed you to go in black. After all, it's a stylish colour and it somehow suits you. But the only thing these," she pointed to the robes I wore, "are good enough for is rummaging through the prehistoric dust of the library."
"I won't go in a dress like a complete fool," I declared, "no one goes to the theatre in a dress, everyone wears robes. That's basic etiquette."
Claudia rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, fine, let's try to charm what you have."
She put me in front of the mirror and began to wave her wand. First, the robe narrowed at the waist, almost suffocating me. To prevent the fabric from wrinkling, Claudia conjured up extra buttons and slightly adjusted the silhouette. Then my friend 'optimized the length', not shortening the outfit to my great relief but making it longer – so much that the hem dragged along the floor a little, or, in Claudia's words, gained a train that was fashionable this season.
"Okay, this collar is out of style. Let's make a standing one."
I shrugged indifferently.
Having finished with my outfit, Claudia stepped aside and looked at me.
"No, that won't do. We need to brighten it up, somehow. For example…"
She took something white from the wardrobe. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a white collar, which she put on me so that only its edge was peeking out from under the black stand-up collar. I chuckled.
"And the cuffs, of course," she said, slipping the snow-white cuffs over my wrists, so that now they were peeping out from under the black sleeves in a quite familiar way.
I chuckled again, and then smiled broadly.
"You can also put on a silk wrap, and it will billow awesomely when you walk," Claudia suggested, and I laughed aloud.
"What?" my friend asked wonderingly.
I couldn't stop laughing. Through fits of giggles, I managed to get out:
"I...I personally know the designer..."
"You know Pansy Parkinson?" Claudia asked in surprise and with a note of admiration, which made me laugh even louder.
"And her too," I replied, already crying with laughter.
"Hermione, you're scaring me," my friend said perplexedly. "I may know a thing or two about how to deal with depression, but what to do with hysteria..."
"You don't understand…" I said, calming down little by little. "This is how Professor Severus Snape, Head of the Slytherin House, where Parkinson studied, dressed."
"Seriously? So that's where she got all these ideas for the new collection!"
"Probably."
I finally stopped laughing and stood in front of the mirror again.
"Geez, you smeared your makeup," my friend chided me, fixing my eyeliner and lipstick.
"Now let's figure out what I'm really going to wear," I said, taking in the view of my reflection.
"But what's wrong with this one?"
"I can't go cosplaying Professor Snape, it's not Halloween!"
"It's not a 'Snape cosplay', it's a fancy outfit. However, I will turn it back into a black sack after..." Claudia looked at her watch, "midnight."
"And the carriage into a pumpkin, and the coachman into a rat..." I muttered.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was Jason.
"Let's hurry, it's less than half an hour until the show starts," he said. "Hermione, you look great!"
"Thanks," I replied, embarrassed, "but I need to change."
"Why?" Jason wondered.
Claudia, instead of answering, simply made a circular motion with her finger at her temple.
"Can't you see who I look like?" I asked.
After all, Jason had studied at Hogwarts, so he couldn't help noticing.
"Like a girl from the cover of the 'InStyle Witch', which Claudia reads instead of talking to me?" he said questioningly.
"No! I look like Professor Snape."
Jason froze. Then he laughed.
"There is some resemblance," he said, "but it's so fleeting that it cannot be a reason for being late to the theatre. That's it, put on your cloaks, scarves, or whatever you have there, and let's move out!"
I tried to resist, but Claudia and Jason almost forcefully pushed me out the door. I had only one thought in my mind now: "I hope Snape won't see me!"
Unfortunately, the heavens decided to laugh at me again. As soon as we had handed over our warm clothes at the cloakroom in the foyer of the theatre, we saw a group of teachers. Professor Olivier with his wife, Professor Eastland, Professor Spaziani with some plump dark-haired man, Professor Marinescu — Claudia's father — and, of course, Professor Snape in the guise of Professor Veans. I shook my head in disbelief. How had they happened to come to the show on the very same day we did, when I happened to be dressed like Snape?
I still hoped that we wouldn't have to approach the professors and therefore remain unnoticed. However, Claudia, waving her hand to her father, happily told me:
"Jason bought a ticket for Dad too, but Dad decided not to come with us. He came with his colleagues. There're so many of them! Come, come, let's say hello."
"Maybe we shouldn't?" I whispered.
But my friend, tugging Jason's arm, was already halfway to the teachers. I dragged behind, still hoping to go unnoticed.
Claudia, on behalf of the three of us, greeted the professors and their companions, and they greeted us back in a friendly chorus. I hid behind my friend's back for the time being, peeking over her shoulder to observe Snape. It seemed that at first, he really didn't notice me, but then his sharp eyes fixed on me, and I realized that it was foolish to hide any longer. Proudly raising my chin, I took a small step to the right, so that I was now visible from head to toe. The others didn't pay any attention, but Professor Snape, who didn't take his eyes off me, watched with undisguised interest. He looked me in the eye with a grin on his lips. I sighed haughtily and looked somewhere to the side.
"Miss Granger," Snape said clearly amused, coming closer to me, "you look just… admirable today."
"The credit goes to Claudia," I replied. "It turns out that this look is all the rage this season. Fashion designer Pansy Parkinson created the style. That name may ring a bell to you."
I couldn't help a smile as I said that, and Professor Snape smirked in a completely good-natured way.
"I'm not sure I've ever heard such a combination of first and last name," he replied ironically, "but the overall look leaves a very intriguing impression."
"Intriguing is not the word for it," I echoed.
Suddenly a gong sounded, announcing that the performance was going to start in two minutes, and we all hurried to the auditorium. The professors' seats were on the same row as ours. The teachers and their companions were the first to take their seats – Snape was tailing the procession, and then it was our turn to sit down. Suddenly, Claudia crouched right in the aisle, saying that something had happened to the fastener on her shoe. Jason also stopped to offer his help. I had to go and sit next to Professor Snape. Claudia and Jason fixed her clasp with surprising speed, and she took her seat beside me. Finally, Jason sat down in his place, just in time, because the lights went out in the hall and everyone turned their attention to the stage.
The performance lasted an hour and a half without intermission. The story was about how a very young girl, practically still a teenager, who didn't know her parents, began working as an actress in a local theatre and fell in love with a director, a handsome man and womanizer, who in the end turned out to be gay. At first, of course, the main character, Stella, wasn't aware of that. Being absorbed in her love, and fearing she might seem inexperienced to the object of her dreams, she decided to 'learn', and started a relationship with one of the actors by the name of O'Hara, who was much older than she was. The end of the play was tragic: O'Hara accidentally found out that Stella was his daughter. Unable to bear that, he committed suicide.
I was a little shocked by the plot. In addition, the production was full of tense and sometimes very sensual moments, and, to my misfortune, I couldn't forget even for a minute that Professor Snape was sitting next to me. Sometimes, when something completely indecent was happening on the stage, I just wanted to take off and run away from the hall, pressing my cold hands to my crimson cheeks, but it was impossible, and I continued to watch, trying not to betray my emotions.
Finally, it was over. The lights came on in the auditorium, forcing me to close my eyes for a moment, before I got up from my seat and waited for Claudia and Jason to clear the passage. Professor Snape, nudged from behind by his colleagues, came close to me, and touched my elbow.
"Miss Granger, move along," he said softly.
For some reason, I felt abashed.
"Claudia…" I muttered.
"… has left already," the professor finished, and I realized that he was right.
I quickly made my way between the chairs and caught up with my friends. We stopped in the lobby, since Claudia wanted to say goodbye to her father. However when the professors joined us, Professor Marinescu said:
"Claudia, we're going to the Phoenix now. Would you like to go?"
"Yes!" my friend answered and I rolled my eyes in anguish.
Professor Eastland passed on the invitation, but everyone else turned their steps to the Phoenix, the largest restaurant in town. Not being able to produce a good reason to refuse, I staggered behind.
Getting a table for nine people in the Phoenix on a Saturday night was a miracle. Thanks to Claudia — now it was obvious to me that she was doing this on purpose — I found myself once again next to Professor Snape.
At first, everyone discussed the menu vigorously — everyone except Snape and me — then argued about which wine was better. Finally, we ordered, and after a couple of minutes, everything was on the table.
"That's the fundamental difference between a magical and a Muggle restaurant," Professor Olivier said, "fast service that doesn't make you wait forty minutes for the meat to cook. Isn't that so, Miss Granger?"
I nodded, and immediately a discussion started about how awful it must be to go to Muggle restaurants. I kept silent, not wanting to argue with anyone, although I felt bad for the Muggles and their food services. Finally, the topic dried up, and someone — I think it was Professor Spaziani — broached the topic of the performance.
"It seems to me that the modern theatre is past its prime," Professor Olivier said. "Have you ever seen actors being so indecent on stage?"
"But without this 'indecency' there would be no performance," Claudia noted. "The director wanted to give us the opportunity to live through everything that happened between Stella and O'Hara so that later on we could more fully understand his horror and misery when he realized that Stella was, in fact, his daughter."
"Yes, I felt terribly sorry for him," Spaziani agreed. "Though, it would have been better if he hadn't killed himself. He didn't know..."
"I think he did the right thing," Professor Marinescu spoke with authority and hardly anyone would argue with him here.
"And I think that raising such a topic on stage is completely unacceptable," Olivier said. "In my opinion, it's simply disgusting. And there's no use feeling sorry for this O'Hara, he had only himself to blame for everything."
"But what on earth was he to blame for?" Spaziani exclaimed.
"For having a relationship with a girl half his age," Professor Snape suddenly said quietly.
Everyone heard him. Olivier began to nod along, while Spaziani, on the contrary, lashed out at him with questions:
"And how do you know she was half his age? And why, if he fell in love, couldn't he be with her? Isn't love the most important thing? Imagine that you met the child of the woman you loved...that is, I mean, you met a child that looked like the woman you loved. Not even a child, but an already grown girl. How would you feel?"
"I would..." Snape drawled slowly, and my heart started pounding for some reason.
The irony was that he had been in a situation similar to the one Spaziani had spoken of, but it was unlikely that this woman would agree that the relationship between Snape, Harry Potter, and Lily Potter fit that description.
For a few seconds, Professor Snape seemed lost in his memories, then, he said sternly:
"Relationships with minors are punishable by both magical and Muggle law. It doesn't matter who the child does or doesn't look like. Legal authorities enacted the law to protect the moral and physical health of children, and the law must punish those who violate it most severely. There is an age of consent that determines when a child can have sex."
"I didn't know you were such a prude and moralist, Perseus," Professor Spaziani snorted.
"We work with children, Stephania, and we have a duty to protect them."
"What are you talking about? Look at them, they're not children anymore," Spaziani retorted, pointing at me, Claudia and Jason.
I blushed a little. While still looking at the woman, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the way Snape turned his head slightly in our direction and then turned back to his colleague.
"It's easy to forget about that," he said.
"They're no more than six years younger than you and me," his interlocutor stated.
"Jason is almost your age, actually," Claudia pointed out.
Everyone stared at Jason. He got a little embarrassed and shrugged as if saying 'What's the big deal?'.
I smiled faintly.
"Indeed, and I've never even thought about it," I said softly, but Snape heard me.
"Anyway, I feel much older than my age," he said, and then spoke a little louder, "and I don't quite understand, Stephania, do you encourage unprofessional relationships between students and teachers?"
"Of course not. Unless it's true love."
"And crimes occur because of such an attitude as this. Everyone finds an excuse for their actions and believes that they're allowed to break the rules."
"Really? And because of people as insensitive as you are, Perseus, people are suffering."
"There are rules," Snape responded.
"Rules are made to be broken," Spaziani replied, and Snape looked at her reproachfully.
"I wonder what students think about this," Professor Spaziani's companion, the plump man who hadn't uttered a word before suddenly said.
Having said that, he looked at me for some reason. I turned to Claudia, but she, too, was eyeing me intently, as if she wasn't a student herself.
"I...I..." I stalled, not knowing what to say. "I think that...that both professors are right."
"Elaborate," the chubby man requested, and I frowned at him.
"Well, Professor Veans is right about the rules. And no matter how wrong they seem to us, we must abide by them. Dura lex sed lex... And Professor Spaziani is right that we are no longer children, and we must be treated accordingly. And also that...people suffer because of the insensitivity of others."
I looked at my plate, not daring to raise my eyes. I didn't know what reaction my words caused, but I continued to stare at my potatoes.
"And if you had to choose between feelings and following the rules, what would you do?" Spaziani kept pushing.
I sighed uncomfortably. Looking at her, I replied:
"It seems to me that any answer I could give wouldn't be honest until I face such a choice and make it. We can say anything we want but nothing speaks for us better and more truthfully than our actions."
"Miss Granger has always been a diligent student. I'm sure she wouldn't break the rules," Professor Olivier said.
"I have reasons to doubt that," Snape said mockingly, but when everyone started looking between him and me, he frowned.
I figured out that he was talking about my school years, but the others...
"So the rumours are true?" Professor Marinescu asked, and I looked at him with surprise.
Then I turned my eyes to Claudia. She looked at me in alarm. I felt an irresistible urge to hit my friend.
"What rumours?" Snape inquired.
"About you and Miss Granger," Professor Spaziani said, glancing triumphantly at her colleague.
There was such anger written on Snape's face that for a moment I thought he was going to explode.
"One who spreads gossip is foolish, but one who believes in it is even more foolish," he uttered through clenched teeth. "I've already expressed my point of view on this issue, and I see no need to repeat myself."
I was now red as a tomato, torn between the desire to run away and kill Claudia.
"It's funny that the surname of the director in the play is Potter," my friend said suddenly, hoping to lighten the mood.
She succeeded. Everyone started discussing this curious coincidence, and when I said that Harry's uncle's name was Vernon – like Stella's uncle, and his mother's – Lily, like her aunt, everyone got even more amused. Everyone except for Professor Snape, of course. He sat with a grim face the rest of the evening, diligently demonstrating his disregard for me. Even when the dinner was over, and all the men began to help the women sitting next to them – gallantly pulling out their chairs, handing them their warm cloaks – Snape stood stock-still, not even looking in my direction.
I understood that he did it on purpose so that everyone would see that the rumours were just rumours, but it was still very unpleasant. Not just unpleasant, however, it hurt me. Wasn't it obvious that if he had shown more indifference to the words about our possible affair and had behaved as if nothing had happened, everyone would lose faith in the rumour's validity sooner than when he so persistently demonstrated his negative attitude towards me?
──────── • ✤ • ────────
14th of February, Monday:
Valentine's Day had completely passed me by, which made me happy. I definitely wasn't among those who saw this day as a holiday. Emile was probably the only one around me who suffered from love the same way I did, so it wasn't surprising that we spent the day together, hiding in my room from a world gone mad. Claudia was unlikely to return before dawn, so we could rest at ease and relax.
Emile brought the Wine Spring, which made our relaxation more interesting. By evening, we'd already fallen into that state where people reveal all their intimate secrets to each other.
"…and then I touched him, just a feather-like touch, but it was like… like… fireworks," Emile spoke solemnly, sitting on the floor and hugging my pillow. "He probably didn't even notice it, but to me…to me it was exrasto... extrordira... extraordernardy."
His speech was slightly slurred, but I didn't care. At that point, I wasn't a paragon of eloquence either.
"And I've never touched him. Oh, wait, that's not true... we've danced together..."
"How could it be that you've never touched?" Emile was surprised. "And when did you dance?"
"Ah, at Professor Olivier's," I giggled. "Picture that, we danced..."
"But he wasn't even there, was he?" Emile said in bewilderment, drawling out the words.
"Who?"
"Richard."
"What does Dick have to do with it? I'm talking about Him."
Emile stared at me questioningly and then drawled conspiratorially:
"Ahhh… Him."
I nodded meaningfully. After a pause, Emile asked:
"And who is He?"
I gave him a reproachful look. Then I beckoned him over with my finger and, when he bowed his head, I murmured into his ear:
"Professor Veans."
"So it is true!" he breathed softly in astonishment.
I nodded.
"Just don't tell anyone," I whispered and pressed my finger to my lips, "shhhhh."
Emile gave a nod, drunkenly assuring me that my secret would die with him.
"I'm just a fool, you know," I uttered, getting up from the floor and falling onto my bed. "No, I'm not just a fool I'm a very, very bad person. Emile, I'm a very bad person."
"Why?"
"I kind of love Professor Veans but I don't love Professor Snape," I said, uncertain if I had managed to articulate my thoughts correctly.
"Whom?" Emile asked again, but I didn't deign to explain.
"You see, Professor Veans is so handsome, and loving him is... Tee-hee. Tee-hee-hee."
"Are you all right?"
"Lo-o-ovin' you," I started to sing, "is easy cause you're beautifu-u-ul… lo-o-oving you is all I wanna do-o-o… And every day of my life I'm more in love with you…" ***
There was a pause.
"A beautiful song," Emile commented.
I sobbed.
"Tell me, if something suddenly happened to Dick and he became... well, for example," I sobbed again, "disfigured. Would you...?"
"I would love him even more!" the young man replied defiantly.
I burst out sobbing.
"I'm such a horrible person," I snuffled out while wiping away my drunken tears.
"No, you're not horrible. You're a very, very good person," Emile assured me, trying to get up off the floor.
"But Professor Snape is… he's nothing that a girl dreams of. I mean, of course, I'm not a beauty either, but don't I deserve..."
Another fit of sobs kept me from finishing my thought.
"See?" I whined. "Would a good person say that?"
"You're just drunk," Emile tried to calm me down, still struggling to get to his feet.
"I'm not that drun..." sob, "drun..." another sob, "damn it, drunk! I'm not that!"
Emile laughed, and I followed along, laughing hysterically.
"And besides, a sober heart speaks a drunk mind," I said bitterly.
"It's the other way round," Emile replied, finally straightening up to his full height, but I didn't pay attention to him.
"No, you see, I love Professor Snape," I said, obviously confusing Emile completely, "but when he's Professor Veans. And when he's not, I... don't know... I can't imagine him..."
Emile lowered himself on the edge of my bed.
"Wait," he said, turning his unfocused gaze either to my eyes or to my ears. "You love some Snape, but he's ugly, and thus you love Professor Veans?"
"He's old too," I uttered plaintively.
Then I decided to fill Emile in on the matter with slightly bent truth.
"Look, I corresponded for a long time with one person, and I thought it was Professor Veans. And I fell in love with him. And then I found out that I had corresponded not with Professor Veans, but with Professor Snape. And now I don't know who I fell in love with."
Emile nodded slowly, trying to comprehend what I was telling him.
"Now I understand," he drawled. "And you know what? You just need to spend more time with this Snape. I mean, you know him, but you're not used to his looks. So you need to get used to it. I tell you for sure, over time you will stop noticing his flaws, and what you love about him will make him beautiful to you."
I scratched my temple thoughtfully.
"You know, maybe you're right."
"Of course, I'm right."
Emile bent down and hugged me. Not having the strength to push him away, I just relaxed... When I woke up, it was already dark, and the clock said eleven. I lay with Emile on my bed. He was hugging me and snoring softly in his sleep. My head felt heavy as if someone had poured lead into my skull, so I decided not to get up and just tried to fall asleep again, which I managed quite easily.
──────── • ✤ • ────────
17th of February, Thursday:
On Thursday, I had another consultation with Professor Snape. By that time, I had already come to a certain decision — I realized that I really needed to spend at least an evening with Professor Snape in his real form. I needed to understand whom I loved and whether I really loved him. I knew that I could hurt myself with this research, but I couldn't leave the matter unsettled. It was much better to suffer from unrequited love than add to it by not understanding your own feelings and living with constant doubt.
Once at the door leading to the lecture hall where we had our consultation, I stopped and took three deep breaths. I already had an idea of how to persuade the professor to spend an evening with me in Snape's form, but despite having a solid plan, I was nervous.
Finally, having mustered my strength, I entered the auditorium and froze at the entrance. Sitting at the desk was Professor Rostov.
"Oh, Miss Granger!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "I was waiting for you."
"Hello, sir," I replied with confusion. "And where is Professor Sna…Veans?"
Professor Rostov raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Didn't he tell you?"
Now I was almost scared.
"Didn't he tell me what?"
"Well, have a seat."
I sat down in my usual place, facing the professor, and with a pleading look in my eyes stared at the man before me.
"You see, I've wanted to work here at Stonehenge for a long time, but someone had to take care of my students in Russia, so during the conference, I made an offer to Perseus. An exchange of teaching experience, so to speak. We traded places."
"And he agreed..." I whispered.
"Well, not right away," Professor Rostov replied with a chuckle. "At first he refused whatsoever, but then during the winter holidays, I received a letter from him. He asked about the details of my offer. We had been in active correspondence, settling things at the universities. On the thirteenth of February, I got a letter from him asking to make the exchange as soon as possible, and so now I'm here and he's there."
I bit my lip, trying not to cry from dismay. The professor looked at me intently.
"But you don't seem to be very happy."
I took a deep breath and tried to smile.
"Oh, no, I'm glad. This is a really... good chance..." The words came to me with difficulty.
"Of course, of course," Rostov said thoughtfully.
"And when is Professor Veans coming back?" I asked and froze, afraid to hear the answer.
"In two months. Just in time for the defense of your diploma paper," Professor Rostov said and I took a sharp deep breath.
Two months!
"Well, now let's see how your work is progressing. Perseus introduced me to your topic, so I'm perfectly competent."
* Hermione is referring to "Making History" by Stephen Fry.
** I haven't found any mentions of the stage play but there is a movie with the same title starring Alan Rickman. The plot and characters are pretty much the same as in the performance mentioned in this story.
*** Slightly corrupted lyrics of Minnie Riperton's "Lovin' You".
T/N: You are very welcome to leave a review, they encourage me to continue and remind me that there actually are people who are waiting for the next chapter. I promise this story isn't abandoned!