Hello, readers dear!
The last chapter wasn't as well received as the others. Something in particular you guys didn't like? Or was it just the long wait? Thank you to those who did review, though. They were lovely, and I really appreciate the insights and encouragements. :)
This chapter is probably the longest in the entire story... which is a bit of a reward for all of you. Really, it's more than 8,000 words.
I GOT MY LAPTOP. So more writing= more getting ahead on chapters= maybe an extra chapter now and then. Yay or yay?
So with no further blathering by the author, let us continue with the adventures of Hermione and Severus. I will warn you, though, Dumbledore is a dick and the romance gets put on a little backburner for some planning. :)
Chapter 13
"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said warmly. "Please come in." His performance was so perfect it could have been genuine- the twinkle in his blue eyes, the grandfatherly smile on his face, the air of genial happiness.
Hermione nodded at the Headmaster. "You wanted to see me, sir?" The years had taught her to be cautious with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Dumbledore nodded, and gestured to the seat in front of him. "Sit, sit, my dear girl. I have some things I want to discuss with you for the coming year."
Hermione did as she was bid, and sat, smoothing her skirt neatly. "Concerning Harry?"
"Yes, my dear," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "I am afraid this year will be the most difficult for the poor boy." He looked sorrowful at the thought. "Tell me about his summer."
It still made Hermione uncomfortable to talk about Harry to the Headmaster or Severus. It felt like she was betraying his privacy and his trust and it felt wrong. "The incident in the graveyard has had a serious impact on his morale," Hermione said quietly, self-loathing coming over her. She shoved it behind her Occlumency shields. "He's having bad dreams. He- he is filled with anger. At Ron and I, at you, and the world. Not letting us write to him certainly had a detrimental effect." Hermione looked up at the Headmaster, a touch of reproach in her voice. "He was very upset that you haven't talked with him."
"There is much he does not know," said Dumbledore gravely. "I cannot have too much contact with the boy this year. You will have to be an influence on him, Miss Granger." He sighed and shook his head. "It is a pity that he and Severus became enemies so quickly. He needs a mentor. He needs to foster love."
Hermione smiled. "Then we might have some hope. Harry finally noticed he fancies girls. I think she may fancy him back."
The Headmaster straightened, with what may have been joy on his face. "He has finally recognized his feelings for young Ginerva Weasley?"
What? No. "No," Hermione said, frowning now. "No- Cho Chang. Ravenclaw, sixth year-"
"Yes, yes, I know who Miss Chang is," the Headmaster said, frowning. "Miss Granger, another of your duties will be to ensure that Mr. Potter and Miss Chang do not interact alone."
Hermione stood indignantly. "Headmaster! Harry can fancy whomever-"
Dumbledore stood as well, and said in a quiet, deadly voice, "Miss Granger, do not question me."
He's going to manipulate every single aspect of poor Harry's life. This isn't fair! "What harm will a small dalliance do?" Hermione asked desperately. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry's only fifteen!"
Dumbledore struck his desk. "I said do not question me, Miss Granger. The Chang girl is not right for Harry. They will not-"
"Who cares?" Hermione yelled, voice rising in both pitch in volume. "It would make him happy."
Now Dumbledore's eyes were slivers of cold ice. "Miss Cho Chang is not suitable for Harry Potter."
It was beginning to dawn on Hermione with stunning clarity. "But red-headed and milky skinned pureblood Ginny Weasley is?" she asked bitterly.
"Yes," Dumbledore said finally. He sighed, and once again he looked like an old, charitable grandfather. "Miss Granger, look at it from my perspective. Miss Chang is notable only for her dubious skill in Quidditch. Her family is not from Great Britain , they have no ties here. They are half-blood, and Chinese. This means that when they accept that Voldemort is back, they will probably choose to flee the country. Miss Chang, being an obedient daughter, would follow. Harry Potter's heart would break. I'm trying to spare him the pain." He shrugged. "Miss Weasley, on the other hand, is both intelligent and courageous. Her family is dedicated to the fight against Voldemort, and because they are merely blood traitors, Death Eaters will be under orders to capture not kill. Miss Weasley is younger than Harry, and according to both your reports and Molly Weasley's she is quite in love with the boy."
Hermione felt like bursting into tears. "Then did you have excellent reasons for why Viktor and I were never meant to be?" It still ached sometimes, knowing she had given up the one chance she had ever had at a romantic relationship.
"Of course I did, my dear," Dumbledore said gently. "Are you not happy, now?" He shook his head sorrowfully. "I did try to tell Severus, when we chose you, that it would not be a life for a young girl. But I had hoped-"
"Girl or not, my life is my life and I shall live it," Hermione interrupted, cold anger in her voice. I can't let him find out about my feelings for Severus. "Do you have any other instructions for me?"
Dumbledore sat back down. "Harry is angry. Try to calm his anger. Perhaps you should begin to teach him some calming Occlumency exercises." He nodded at her. "You may go, Miss Granger."
Severus was expecting Hermione. Umbridge's speech was utterly ridiculous, and she would want to discuss it with him as soon as the boys were in bed.
He glanced at the clock again as it neared ten. It wasn't curfew yet, so he had some time before she would come. Time to sort things out in his head.
When he had been laying on the floor at Spinner's End, deposited there by Lucius, he had called her. He made a mental note to thank his old friend later; the head of the Malfoy family had been facing the Dark Lord's displeasure by aiding Severus. Should the Dark Lord discover that Lucius had taken his battered body to his house, Lucius would have been subjected to a manner of torturous curses.
He had been bleeding, inside and out, on the rug, listening to his heart beat shallowly as a way of distracting himself from the pain. He knew from experience he would pass out from the pain in a few minutes- he was trying to figure out how to get from the parlor to the bookcase shelves and up to his bedroom before that happened. It was only when he had shifted to try and levitate himself, when he felt the round hardness of his pocket watch in his breast pocket.
Hermione, he thought. He barely had enough strength to Summon the watch and his wand to his hand, and tap the spider's web, channeling his pain and fear of death into the call.
And then he passed out.
He didn't remember her discovering him, but he had drifted in and out of consciousness as she cleaned his wounds, and once when she was floating him up the stairs. Slowly, the pain lessened until it was bearable. And then she spooned something into his mouth and he was out again.
His first reaction upon waking was embarrassment. This girl- no, this young woman- had seen him nearly naked and in a position of utter helplessness. He had not been as close to death as he had originally thought, but he had been close enough. Severus Snape was a private man- he had only barely become accustomed to her seeing him in only his slacks and buttons downs and this felt like an invasion of privacy.
Or it would have felt like an invasion of privacy with just about any other person.
Somehow, with Hermione it was okay. Truthfully, he had been more unsettled by the fact he wasn't completely panicking. Hermione was safe, she was a known quantity. But more to the point, he trusted her.
And Severus Snape did not trust many people. Let alone teenaged girls.
But she didn't act like a teenager- she acted like a serious woman. A woman who knew the right and wrong in her world, and was well aware of the grey too. A woman who would fight for those she loved and against those who threatened her or her allies. A woman who was slowly worming her way under his well-built and not entirely false façade.
He couldn't remember the last time she had truly annoyed him, or made him want to wince at her immaturity. He could, however, remember the last time she made him laugh, mainly because it was happening more and more frequently. He could remember times that she frankly astounded him with her intuitive genius, or genuine caring, or glorious ruthlessness. It was a struggle to recall a time where he was feeling angry or derisive toward her.
The fellow genius in him reveled in her mind, enjoying their banter and discussions. The boy that had edited his textbook for fun was positively entranced by her.
And the boy that had been carelessly shoved aside time and time again was equally as entranced by her heart. When she protested unfair treatment or mourned another dead body, one part of him wanted to snap at her for Gryffindor sentimentality and the other wondered about how much love she was capable of. If she could extend her worries toward the treatment of house elves and her tears toward someone she didn't know, could she possibly care about him? Could she worry about him? Would she cry over his body?
He suspected the answer was yes, and that made a little flicker of joy appear under his ribcage.
Hermione was a type of contradiction as well- she had the largest heart he had ever seen, but she could become a whirlwind of dangerous, lethal beauty in an instant. Gods, she was a vision with a knife in one hand and her wand in the other. She had been developing her body since early pubescence, and the ease in which she could extend her limbs and power she could use showed it. She had no qualms about using her formidable repertoire of spells (some of his own invention) and her equally formidable athletics training to defend herself or others.
Severus was well aware of the darkness inside of himself- the secret soul buried (not so buried) that loved the Dark Arts, the essence that rose up and took over when he whispered deadly incantations and evoked beings no man had any business evoking. He had arrived at Hogwarts knowing more about the Dark Arts than most, if not all, of the fools taking their O.W.L.'s.
His grandparents had died when he was seven, leaving his mother with a Dark Arts library not much smaller than the Black's. His weary, hollow mother had stashed them all in the attic, in easy reach of a young boy who wanted to know as much as he could about the world of magic. Those books had called to his soul, sinking the sharp hooks early and fast, hooks that remained there even now.
He honestly loved the Dark Arts; he loved the way the magic rushed through him with hardly any prompting, he loved the intelligence in the quiet seduction of the darkest magicks, he loved the power that the hushed and secret incantations gave him. The Darkness that had been growing inside of him since childhood reveled in the beauty of the Dark Arts: they were unfixed, mutating, indestructible. In his mind, he had often visualized it like one the monsters that Hercules had faced.
As soon as one head was removed, two more sprouted. The Dark Arts were easy to manipulate, giving the welder a false sense of power. They were also quick to turn on the caster, if they weren't faster. Dark Magic could only be borrowed and channeled, never completely dominated.
His appreciation for the Dark Arts had faded and then flagged when he finally felt the horrors they could wreck on humanity- but he had never truly lost it. The temptation was always there, hovering in the background. It was stronger when he was angry or scared- so he fought hard to control those emotions.
And then came Hermione, who completely appealed to the Darkness within him. She was perfectly innocent and pliable one minute, and in a complete fury the next- but only if she had a reason. She could be deadly and beautiful at the same time, a complex mix of that which was mortal and that which was fey and completely foreign. Always thinking, always one step ahead, always looking for a way to win an advantage. There was something in there he could admire completely.
She was a person could both shed tears at the untimely death of a hippogriff, and kill a man without blinking. Until later, that was. That was where her true feelings came to the forefront- when Hermione would weep and blame herself and feel endless remorse. And then she would piece herself together and continue. He was constantly in awe of the way she could be both emotional and heartless, ruthless and then remorseful.
She couldn't be more perfect.
And that scared the hell out of him.
He had realized this in the past, of course, and had managed to brush it away by telling himself it was simply a teacher's pride in his student, the closeness between mentor and protégé. But lately, her own voice in his head had been reprimanding him.
"I'll be turning seventeen in a month or so."
"Krum is seventeen, and I am seventeen."
"I'm a grown woman now- I have enough sense to know that you're not going to hurt me."
She was always reminding him that she was an adult- she pointedly called him his given name and insisted that he do the same. As much as he had opposed it at first, he liked it now. Hermione. Different, like her. Special, also like her.
Special to him.
He didn't particularly mind that she had helped him- the man who normally refused all aid. He didn't mind her fingers running through his hair- the man who normally avoided all touch. Actually, he didn't mind her at all- at times he craved her presence. Like when he wanted to rant. Or when he made a rather brilliant deduction and felt like sharing it with someone who would actually understand how brilliant it was. Or when he was in a murderous rage and knew theoretically he needed to calm down.
If he wanted to face it or not, he knew that she knew him. He could send her a look and she could read it- hell, she could identify the tiniest flicker of emotion in his face and react accordingly. So many people called him emotionless, said that he was unreadable- but she could read him like a book.
So what if I admire her, Severus thought scathingly. So what. Nothing could come of it.
Sometimes, when he was alone and lonely, he would suddenly remember the feel of her collarbones under his fingers, or the silky warmth of her skin under his hand, or the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist when her robes or shirt stretched tight. Or the time he burned her and she was only in her bra-
Stop it, you disgusting old man, he thought, horror tingeing his thoughts. She's a child she's-
She's eighteen. Legal in both the Magical world and the Muggle one. She's an adult, now. She can make the choices of an adult, she acts like an adult, and she can feel like an adult.
And therein lay his problem. Severus Snape was an honorable man- if she was underage, she was underage and he could firmly halt any thoughts that might be 'wrong.' But as soon as it wasn't wrong, as soon as he no longer had an airtight excuse, his mind felt free to roam.
She's your student, another part of his mind reminded him. She's been entrusted to your care. You are supposed to educate her, not try to-
To what?
Try to get into her knickers.
What about her heart?
That too.
Why not?
Because.
Because why?
For heaven's sake, you sound like a toddler.
I'm being serious. Why not? I've taught her just about all I can. She doesn't need my tutoring anymore.
She's still a student at Hogwarts.
Fuck Hogwarts.
That's what I'm telling you notto do. Don't you understand me?
I am you.
You're arguing with yourself- you are certifiably nuts. She wouldn't even want you.
So what's the harm in dreaming?
Hope hurts. You know that as well as I do.
Because I'm you. I know.
You're being ridiculous.
What if she did want me?
His mind stilled, then exploded.
There was no way a girl like Hermione would ever want him. He was old, he was damaged goods, he was probably more than half-crazy by now. He was a bitter old man with no future. He would probably die before the war was over.
And more to the point, if he believed she was vain enough to care about such things, he was nothing to look at. His nose, his hair, his teeth. Hell, his temper, even. He had an awful temper.
She's never cared about your temper before. She laughs when you're mad.
There was no way she would want him. She would probably end up with Potter or Weasley when all was said and done.
She's too much like you, now. What makes you think that one of those idiots will be able to see passed what she can do and love her like she deserves?
They would never be able to accept Hermione for who she was. No one would- she was special, unique, and no one else would be able to realize it like he could. He was the one who had shaped her entire transformation, who had been there every step of the way, guiding and transforming her-
Who says that you could do any better? You are incapable of love. You killed the last woman you thought you loved.
That was his fate, he had accepted it long ago. He had sworn never to love again, he had wept his last bitter tears when Lily died. Of course, then he hadn't known he hadn't really love Lily. He had been infatuated with her- there was a difference. But Hermione-
A knock at the door. He cleared his throat and rasped, "Enter."
She slipped in, an angry light her in her eyes. "Dumbledore wanted to see me." If he wasn't mistaken, he saw burning anger in her face as she spoke. But as soon as it appeared it was gone, and she was controlled again. O rather, her anger had shifted. "But that's not important- the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts," she growled. "What are we going to do about it?"
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "What can we do about it?" he asked, shrugging. "Suggestions?" He gestured to the chair in front of him and she took it.
Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. "She's out to prove that Harry's a nutter and Dumbledore is senile. The Minster is paranoid about Dumbledore's influence on this generation- he's going to want her to undermine him and potentially hurt our understanding of the Dark Arts. Fudge is scared that Dumbledore is going to attack him using Hogwarts students- he wants our Defense lessons to be either meaningless, or completely wrong."
"Well said," he told her. "The only thing I'd have to add is that she wants to sow distention between the students and Harry, the students and Dumbledore, and Dumbledore and the other Professors. And she'll want to do something about Hagrid."
"That bitch," Hermione gasped. "I should have remembered. She's very anti-half-breeds which includes werewolves and centaurs and half-giants like Hagrid."
Severus nodded. "Which was one reason Dumbledore wasn't too eager for Hagrid to return before the start of the term."
She nodded absentmindedly, tugging at a curl. He looked at her- he could feel she had something to say. "What is it?" he asked.
"Harry," she answered after a moment's hesitation. "He is roaring for a fight, he's mad and he's careless when he's angry. He lets his temper get the best of him, and Umbridge is going to try and use that."
Severus regarded her with hooded eyes. "Then caution him and try and diffuse his anger," he advised. "But I'm honestly more worried about you."
There was something in the brown eyes that turned on him, and he ached to delve inside her mind with Legilimency. "Pardon?"
"She's high up in the Ministry," Severus explained. "She'll have heard Potter's story. She'll also know that you were there as well. She'll try and pull you into it. Dumbledore exercised most of his diminished influence to keep your name out of the papers- up until now, you've merely been an unnamed student. Few of the students here know for sure you were there. There was confusion, and then Fawkes arrived and almost no one saw you. No one was paying attention to who was or was not in classes, and it could have very easily been assumed that you were with Harry in Hospital Wing instead of the other way around. It's not a state secret, but it isn't widely known either."
It was dawning on Hermione. "So she's going to tell everyone it was me with him," she figured, and Severus could almost feel the sinking feeling he knew she was experiencing by the look on his face. "She's going to call me out in a public place and ask me why I was there and how I knew. And then she's going to use anything I say against us."
"Exactly. What do you want to do about this?" He had a few ideas, but he wanted to hear hers first.
She took a while to mull through her options- she was thinking hard and fast and he could see it in her face. "I think we need to tell the story first," she said after a while. "We can use Rita. And if The Daily Prophet refuses to publish it, I now have a contact with The Quibbler."
Severus stared at her incredulously. "How on earth did you manage that?" he asked, shaking his head quickly and allowing a few strands of hair to fall into his face. "Since this morning?"
"Luna Lovegood," she replied with a smug little smirk. "Bonded with her on the carriage ride. I'm sure if I asked her to do it she would give the article to her father."
"It's something to consider," Severus conceded. "But we also need to consider the reputation of the paper used to publish. And the dangers of coming out with something big like that. What else?"
She took a few more moments to think. "I could either suck up to her, or intimidate her. Offer to get her insider information on Harry in order to undermine him, or threaten her so she'll comply."
Severus shook his head again. "She's not going to fall for it, if you try to suck up or offer to spy," he said. "Oh, wipe that affronted look off your face. I have complete faith in your acting skills. It's just that Umbridge is canny and she'd rather oust you than use you. I'm not sure how effective threatening her would be."
"Do we even want to repress that information?" Hermione asked, a thoughtful look on her weary face. "I mean, the Ministry's mudslinging has pretty much had its desired effect. Harry and Dumbledore are persona non grata everywhere and completely discredited. What's a little more? It'll put me on the radar, and I'm already known to the Death Eaters because of my stunts in the graveyard. We could use the revelation to our advantage."
Interesting. He hadn't thought about using it. "Elaborate," he ordered.
Hermione grinned at him, and did just that. "I have a certain reputation among the students," she stated, shrugging at the eyebrow he raised. "Shove off, Severus, you know it's true. Like you said, I'm the resident know-it-all. I'm a swot who always tells the truth and sticks to the rules. I have a bit more believability than Dumbledore- everyone thought he was crazy before this. And Harry has always been a bit of an outcast at the school- remember how everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin three years ago?"
"So you're saying that they'll believe you? Over a respected and revered wizard and a boy hero?" Severus said, affected disdain dripping in his tone.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No," she said smartly. "I'd only make them think about it a bit. And make them think that Harry and Dumbledore are both more respectable than I am. And I'm pretty damn respectable." She winked, then giggled. "Sorry. But it's not like I'm a two pound tart. I'm top of my class here at Hogwarts."
"And if you listen to the werewolf talk, you're the 'brightest witch of your age,'" drawled Severus. "Two pound tart? Honestly, Hermione. You sound like our lovely Nymphadora sometimes."
She shook her head. "I do try. What do you think I should do?" She looked up at him, waiting for an answer. Then, just as he was about to say something, she lit up. "What if we made it into an underground movement type thing? The woman's awful, it won't be long until everyone hates her. We make Harry and me into martyrs, almost. Then when Voldemort finally reveals himself, we look even better. But for now, be silent and strong in the face of adversity, until everyone hates her enough. Then when she does something appropriately awful, Harry and I tell our story. They will rally around him- this gives Harry the chance to practice some leadership skills. I'm sure I could get him to teach us a proper Defense class- instead of the drivel she's going to be teaching. I mean, did you see the textbook? It's awful!"
Severus sat back- if he was a normal man he'd be gaping at her. "I think it's brilliant," he said after a moment. She flushed from the warm praise- he didn't praise often. "Hermione, it's brilliant. If they can rally around Potter, that gives him a solid base of allies. If the students learn some defensive spells at the same time, that's almost like a bonus."
She positively beamed at him. "The only hard part will be convincing Harry. But I should be able to do that without much of a problem. Much." Her smile dimmed. "We'll see."
"We shall indeed," Severus said with a sigh. "You should get to bed, Hermione. It's late." Then, surprising even himself, he rose to open the door for her. "Goodnight."
Hermione looked up at him, whiskey eyes wide. "Goodnight," she said, voice almost a whisper. "I'll see you tomorrow."
And with that, she was gone.
As soon as she woke up in the morning, Hermione could tell the day would not end well. First off, Harry was in an awful mood- shifting quickly from sullen to furious and back to a sulky rage. And then there was the Twins' notice on the board- advertising for human guinea pigs once again.
She had noticed Harry's mood as soon as she walked in the room- she strode over to wear he and Ron were standing moodily. "Good morning," she said warily. "What's the matter?"
When Harry didn't answer, Ron spoke up. "Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who."
"Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said under her breath. Lavender, Seamus, and maybe even Dean since the two of them are close. This isn't good.
Harry glared at her sullenly. "Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention seeking prat, have you?" he asked loudly.
She met his eye calmly. "No. I reminded her that it was better for people to suspect she was an idiot than for her to open her mouth and confirm it. Then I told her if she couldn't help from talking about it, to talk about me instead since I was there too. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down Ron's and my throats, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."
Both of the boys gaped at her- then looked at Lavender who noticed, flushed, and looked away. "Sorry, Mione," Harry said in a low voice.
"That's quite all right," she said, putting a hand on Harry's arm. Ron gave her a look, but she ignored him. "Do you remember what Dumbledore said last year? About the Dark Lord? 'His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust-"
"How do you remember that?" Ron asked incredulously. "Word for bloody word?"
She gave him a scathing glance. "I listen, Ron," she said impatiently. "What I was saying is that we need to stand together, to be united. The Dark Lord is hiding in the shadows to divide us- those who know and those who don't believe. He wants to divide us because he fears us. We need to stand together and stand united."
Ron opened his mouth, and she held up a warning hand. "I'm not talking about inter-House unity, yet. For now I'm talking about intra-House unity. If even the Gryffindors can't stand together, then we really are doomed."
Breakfast was an exercise in control- they received their schedules and Hermione wanted to moan and bang her head on a few things. History, Potions, Ancient Runes, Divination, and then Defense. Umbridge, first day back. And then Ancient Runes and Divination were at the same time, so she would have to choose which she wanted to take this first time through.
She had finally decided on Ancient Runes when the Fred and George came in. She had a healthy respect for the Twins- they had come up with several useful inventions. However, they had also invented several things that annoyed her greatly.
It was only later, when she and Harry and Ron were walking in the halls, that Harry's mood seemed to lift a bit. "D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked, green eyes flicking between Ron and Hermione.
Ron quickly admitted that he wanted to be an Auror, but Hermione stayed silent.
"C'mon, Mione. You've had to have thought about it. I mean, you try so hard in everything. Why bother if you don't have a plan?" Ron said, nudging her in the side. "Out with it!"
Her throat seemed to swell. How was she supposed to tell two innocent boys that she didn't expect to make it out of the war alive? "I-" she couldn't finish, and looked away. "I've never thought that far ahead." It was a lie. She had, years ago. Years and years ago.
Harry seemed like he might have cottoned on, but Ron blathered on, oblivious. "Hermione! You're always thinking ten years ahead. It can't be that embarrassing." He rolled his eyes at her.
"What's your life plan, Hermione?" Harry asked again, slowing his pace to hers. "Hermione? What do you plan to do in the next few years?"
She cleared her throat. "Get my O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s, hopefully. Help in whatever way I can against the Dark Lord. Make it out alive." She shrugged, refusing to look at either of them. "After Voldemort is taken care of, I can think about it."
Ron stayed silent and Harry tried to break the awkward moment. He gave her a sympathetic look, green eyes full of expression. "The first time I faced him, I didn't know how I was supposed to do anything but plan for the next time," Harry told her truthfully. "But it helps, to think ahead. Isn't there some job you'd want? Like a doctor?"
"Why would she want to be a muggle doctor?" Ron asked, relieved. "Don't they try and sew people? With thread?"
Hermione sighed and shook her head. "It's called suturing, Ron," she said, smirking. "I thought about that, when I was younger. But I'd rather have a Ph.D. than a MD. I think the equivalent in the Magical world is a Mastery."
"What's that?" Harry asked, confused.
Ron answered. "It's a title showing that you have mastered a magical art. You can get them in anything, really. Transfiguration Masteries are the most common in Britain. McGonagall has one. There are a few people with Charms Masteries, and others with stuff like Ancient Runes or Arithmancy."
"Professor Snape has a Potions Mastery," Hermione said quietly. "He's the only one in Great Britain."
Ron nodded. "You have to be really smart to get one. And it takes years. You have to be apprenticed to a Master for a few years and then when they feel you're ready, you face three tests. One is written, one is oral in front of a council of Masters, and the last one is a demonstration of your abilities."
"Sounds like something you'd enjoy, Hermione," Harry said with a grin. "Okay. Which subject? Transfiguration? Charms? Potions?"
Something tightened in her chest, at these two boys who cared so much about her. "I'll see which one I do best in for my O.W.L.'s," she said finally, laughing a bit. "Come on. History's about to start."
After history Cho Chung approached them, eyes wide and dark. Hermione felt her stomach sink. "I just wanted to let you know that I believe you," Cho said in a low, personal voice. "And Cedric does too."
Harry, predictably, flushed a dark red. "So- um- are you- I mean- you and him- uh, Cedric- still together, um, then?" Hermione managed not to wince at the mess he made of sentence. It was so obvious that he liked her, and all she could think about was Dumbledore's harsh words the night before.
"No," Cho said brusquely. "He's got a position as a Charms Apprentice in Switzerland." She shrugged, sending a look to Hermione. "He was being nice, and all, letting me go."
Suddenly, Hermione comprehended the kind of look Cho was sending her. She wanted Hermione to take Ron and leave, so she could ask Harry out in peace. Hermione's eyes narrowed, looking at the Scottish girl. "That was nice of him," she said, affecting a smile. She was about to do more when Ron did it for her.
"Is that a Tornado's badge?" he demanded, pointing a sky blue badge with a double gold T on Cho's robes. "You don't support them, do you?"
That particular fiasco finished quite nicely for Dumbledore's agenda- she needed to report to Severus. She quite accordingly rounded on Ron for disrupting Cho Chang in her efforts to try and get Harry alone, thus putting herself ahead of Ron in Harry's eyes. It was as funny as it was guilt racking- she had been about to do the same thing, but Ron beat her to it. The ensuing argument lasted until they reached the dungeons for Potions.
Hermione's stomach fluttered when she heard the door creak, and if she had been less controlled she would have squirmed in her seat. It had been bad enough, going to see him the night before. He had seemed preoccupied by something- but fairly enough, she had been preoccupied as well. But now-
Now Severus was moving gracefully and forcefully into the classroom, the door slamming shut behind him. "Settle down," he said coldly, voice as sharp and frosty as broken glass on a January day. Power seeped from him- the class could subconsciously sense it from the moment he walked in and they behaved accordingly. The raw strength she could feel coming from him made something in the depths of her belly quiver, and her breath come a bit quicker. Hurriedly, Hermione clamped down on the feeling, shutting behinds as many walls as she could conjure in her mind.
He, like all their other teachers, reminded them that they would be taking the O.W.L. examination in Potions in June, and he did it with his usual disdain and biting comments. She let her mind wander for a bit before snapping her attention back to his voice. "Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my… displeasure." The silky drawl drew another flutter from her stomach.
And then, in a moment that sent her heart racing, his eyes met hers- they were dark and menacing, appearing almost totally black in the dim light of the dungeons. She could see a trace of something in them- but what it was she couldn't quite identify. That bothered her slightly. She couldn't help but smile a little at his display of nonverbal magic as he put the instructions up on the board. The rest of the class didn't notice or recognize the amount of discipline or concentration it took, but she did.
As Ron and Harry had predicted, the Draught of Peace was a horribly finicky potion, and as Snape called out what should be happening at various stages, Hermione let her mind drift. There was a subtle art to potion making, and a kind of zone she could find herself in. It mostly happened when she was brewing with Severus, but somehow she found herself there again.
It was a potion she had made once before, so she wasn't having all the problems that Harry was. When Severus passed in front of her cauldron, he gave her the tiniest of nods before moving on. She could have beamed at the praise- he couldn't very well say anything in front of Malfoy or Crabbe or Goyle now that the Dark Lord had returned.
"Potter," Snape said suddenly, peering down at Harry's potion. "Stop. What is this supposed to be?"
The Slytherins looked up with anticipation- they watched with eager eyes, waiting for Snape to start taunting Harry. Hermione, however, had a sneaking suspicion that something wasn't right. Harry glared up at Snape. "The Draught of Peace," he said, voice taunt.
"Tell me, Potter," Snape said in his most dangerous voice- a quiet drawl that nonetheless traveled through the class. "Can you read?"
A laugh came from the vicinity of Draco Malfoy. Harry's face tensed further. "Yes, I can," he snapped.
"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter," Severus said, gesturing toward the board.
Harry squinted at the board, and Hermione's heart raced as she read the third line silently as he read it aloud. "Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."
Hermione's heart sank- she hadn't been paying attention. The Draught of Peace was a potion with many subtle quirks, a potion that required finesse and exactness. At several points in the creation, it turned poisonous, explosive, or just plain dangerous. And therefore, the person who was making the potion needed to neutralize the potion at several different stages. The syrup of hellebore was one of these stabilizers. And Harry had forgotten it.
"No," Harry was saying. "I forgot the hellebore."
She could see that Severus was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco." He vanished the potion just as it was turning a poisonous blue color, which precipitated the explosion. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, flinching when Snape's gaze turned upon her.
She had failed. She wasn't watching Harry, she had been too concentrated on her own potion. And Snape had noticed.
As he passed them, she caught the look he gave her. It was different from the eyes she normally saw, angrier, more annoyed.
With a low heart she joined Ron and Harry for lunch, desolately spooning shepherd's pie into her plate. Of course, as soon as they had arrived Ron and Harry started in on Severus.
And she felt compelled to defend him. "I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't' share it with you, Ron," she snapped. Of course Severus was a Death Eater and he was working for the Dark Lord, but he was loyal to Dumbledore.
"Can't you give it a rest?" Harry asked, anger darkening his eyes. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." He shoved away from the table and stormed off, leaving Ron and Hermione together.
The pair looked at each other. "Severus Snape is a man with plenty of secrets," Hermione said in a low voice, looking directly into Ron's eyes. "They are not ours to know. Dumbledore is perhaps the most brilliant mind the Wizarding World knows, and if he says that Professor Snape is on our side, then he is."
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione shot him a warning glance and held up her hand. "Harry is important right now," she continued. "He fits in here somehow, with defeating the Dark Lord. I could sense it, there in the graveyard. So to his wishes, we are going to stop fighting. Agreed?"
With a nudging feeling of guilt she slipped into his mind. There she could see him running through the consequences of disagreeing. She would never help me with my homework again was the main thought.
"Agreed," he said. "Let's go." She stood up with him, quietly sighing because her plan of taking Ancient Runes that day was in ruins. Divination the first time around it was.
Divination was as stuffy and warm as always. Hermione detested the class- she would have given it up in third year, if she didn't have two very good reasons to continue taking it. One, if she stopped the class, that would be the only one she didn't have with Harry. And two, if she gave up the class she gave up her Time Turner. And that was too valuable to even consider losing.
She and Ron sat down on either side of Harry. He refused to look at them..
Hermione rested a hand on his arm, tightening her grip until he looked at her. When he finally did, his green eyes were a tumult of anger and what may have been guilt. "Ron and I would appreciate it if you would stop taking your anger out on us," she said quietly. "And while I understand that things are difficult right now, like I explained before alienating the people who support you will do nothing." When he dropped his gaze, she squeezed his arm again. "But then again, Ron and I decided to put an end to our… debates. For your peace of mind if not for ours."
"Thanks," Harry said gruffly.
Trelawney swooped in and began talking in a 'mystic' voice; Hermione relegated her lecture to the back of her mind until she registered the word 'dream.'
When she called for partners to form, Hermione caught Harry's eye and they agreed without saying a word. They didn't want to share dreams with those who had never had a true nightmare.
"Mate," Ron said, swiveling to join Harry. "We- oh." His face darkened when he realized that Harry and Hermione would be working together. "Okay." He clapped Neville on the shoulder and joined him instead.
With a quick swish of her wand and a whispered word, Hermione insured that no one would hear what she and Harry were saying. "Are you alright, Harry?"
"Yeah," he said immediately, opening the book. "Do you want to start?" He wasn't meeting her eye- he obviously wanted her to go first.
She hesitated, then shrugged. "Alright," said Hermione. "I dreamed that we were back in the graveyard…"
It was cold and damp in the graveyard. Her shirt wasn't doing anything about the chill, but she knew she was focusing on that to avoid the reality of the situation. She was on the ground and there were heavy dark forms around her.
And there were Harry's screams in the background. He was begging, she thought calmly. Begging for his life, begging for hers, screaming for someone to save them.
She turned her head and stared at a large stone cross as she waited for him to stop screaming. They were over, done for. Her knives were gone, her wand was gone, and she was trussed up like a pig.
The screams cut off abruptly, and she counted the seconds. One one hundred, two one hundred, three one hundred, four one hundred, five- and there they were again. This time it sounded like he was choking.
Hermione was scared by her own apathy, She knew she was going to die, she knew Harry was going to die, it was done and over with.
A sudden crack startled her and her head whipped around the other way. There was no mistaking the way he held his body, the arrogant tilt of his chin, the power in his stride. The way his robes billowed out around him.
Before she could move or scream, Harry was gone, whirling away on a Portkey. She had been left behind, and it was just her and Severus and the Death Eaters. And, of course, the Dark Lord.
"Severusss," he hissed. "Come to join us at last, traitor?" With one stroke of his wand and another hiss, Severus was dead.
Voldemort laughed evilly, a sound that sent a rush of pure terror down her spine. "Harry Potter is gone, but we still have his little Mudblood. Who is up for some sport, my friends?"
"I'm in the graveyard," Hermione repeated. "And we are watching as Pettigrew is making the potion. But instead of using his hand, he comes for mine." This was a different dream she had. It would do for now.
Harry is now watching her in horror. "Hermione-"
"He takes my hands and I can do nothing," she continues, closing her eyes so she doesn't need to see his. "And this time I can't use my knives and I can do nothing while they kill you and take me." She opens her eyes again. "So what does that tell you about my future?"
There is safety in the book. "The removal of the hands suggests that there is a situation in which you will feel helpless," Harry recites dully, continuing with minimal prompting from her. Before long, her dream has been 'analyzed' to shreds and it's his turn.
"What about the dream you had when you came to Headquarters that first night?" Hermione suggested.
Harry was immediately defensive. "It was simple. You died, he laughed, I died."
The look she pinned him with made him sigh. "It was weird. I had been dreaming something different before, and then I was dreaming the graveyard dream."
By now she was so practiced at this, Hermione didn't have to work overly hard to conceal her excitement. Instead, she just allowed a little leak of curiosity to show. "Oh? What was that dream?"
Harry seemed reluctant to answer. "I dunno. I was walking and then I stopped at a door. I've been having it for a few weeks. But then I felt something like a snapping and a lull and then I was tied to the gravestone again. Voldemort was torturing you and he killed you. And you were doing the knife thing."
Crap. They had never talked about how she had fought with knives, and she didn't want to talk about it now. "Let's start analyzing." As they looked up various aspects of the dream in the text, Hermione let her mind wander to the night Harry had dreamed that, remembering her conversation with Severus. If the Dark Lord was really sending Harry those dreams, then they had a problem. She would have to see him later in the day.
The bell rang just as they finished the (admittedly ridiculous) dream analysis. Hermione gathered her things with a growing dread- next they had double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Umbridge.
And so ends Chapter 13.
Not quite a cliffhanger, although I have definitely changed some of the events of the next chapter. You all have a slight idea of what's coming. Mwahaha.
For those who are interested, YES MY COMPUTER IS HERE and I'm in the middle of either chapter 20 or 21. Can't remember just yet. (hint hint- SPOILERS Severus and Hermione just had a talk about a certain red haired martyr SPOILERS OVER)
Also, personal life: Dead. School, work, home, stress, too little sleep, college apps, letters of recommendation, lesson planning, homework... yeah. And as some of you might know, I moved states last year in the middle of my junior year (which sucked) and so I'm still surrounded by people who are best friends and planning a superawesome Friday sleepover and I'm sitting there thinking I miss my friends and I can't wait to go to college. Which isn't fun. But I have my awesome readers and my tumblr people so I'm doing okay.
Here is your preview (Sorry I forgot last week I literally put that chapter on Doc manager 3 seconds before I posted):
"And now you've just given us the largest pile of dragon shite I've ever heard in this classroom," Hermione said insolently. "And in our second year, we had Gilderoy Lockhart as a teacher."
Now gasps echoed around the classroom. Hermione stood calmly, look Umbridge right in the eye. "Now, if Voldemort- oh, stop it it's just a name- isn't alive and kicking, who was at the Graveyard with Harry and me? Who tortured me until I could hardly move? Who cursed me as we were escaping and kept me in the Hospital Wing for days?"
See you next time! OR IF YOU WANT ANOTHER HERMIONE/SEVERUS STORY I wrote another one. It'll be updated soon. It's called To Love and All It Entails and it takes place in America 7 years after the war. Hermione is 25, Severus is 45. Hopefully that'll tide you over until the next post, which will be on September 20th!