Chapter 22


Into the sitting room, she comes with a comb and brush in either hand. Her hair, especially when damp, requires both. For as long as she can remember, her mum has always used both when she touched her hair. Her mum is always gentle and precise when working on her hair, whereas she mostly couldn't be bothered to really give much attention to her own hair. It's just hair, and one day, if she finds it to be too much, she'll cut it all off.

'Mum,' she announces her entrance.

As her mum turns her way, acknowledging her presence, she states, 'That was quick.'

In response, she only smiles, because she's not patient enough to really wash her hair, so of course, washing her hair would be quick. It's that she just cannot thoroughly separate her hair into sections, to ensure proper shampoo penetration. It's just too much time to spend on her hair. Besides, the more time that she spends on washing her hair, the more time flies away to spend with her mum.

During the week that she's been home for the summer, mostly only seeing her parents at breakfast and then later in the evening, she and her mum have been planning to watch a film together, and only today, it's happening for them. Her dad can't join them, unfortunately, he has work. The better thing to make up for his absence is the fact that the following week, they'll all be going on holiday.

'Should I start the film?' she wants to know before settling on the floor between her mum's legs.

'Yes, please.'

Doing just that, and then taking her place between her mum's legs while the lengthy opening is playing as her mum prepping her hair, they begin talking.

'Are you worried about your exams?

'Actually, I am,' she says, meaning every letter.

Gently laughing, her mum reminds her that, 'We go through this every year with your exams.'

'These are different, Mum.'

'I know,' her mum gently replies. 'I rather just wanted to see you smile, sweetheart. You have been quite serious since getting back, you know.'

They noticed? She thought that she hid her discomfort well. Where did she misstep and make her mum like this?

'I'm just worried about my exams,' she excuses.

'But something else also happened, hasn't it?'

Well, yes, something has happened, so she nods, not to lie to her mother. She would not like to bring it up to her mum, however. In fact, in her mind, she doesn't even know how to organise it. The being cursed and then healed part is fine, that she understands, but that last moment with Professor Snape... Even as she remembers it now, she cannot say what she wanted from him then. He'd been available, he'd looked ready to hear whatever it was that she wanted to tell him, but she just… She wishes that she could say it had everything to do with the silent curse on her; it would be so much easier then.

'Would you like to talk about it?'

'Not really, Mum. I'm sorry.'

'What would you like to talk about then?'

'What do you think will happen in the film?'


26Chapters


Against her prior better judgement, on the spot, she decides to write him a letter. The fight within had carried on for days, with one side opposing that he hadn't cared to hear about her ability to see Thestrals, in the same way that he hadn't cared that she gave up brewing, so she shouldn't believe that he would care to hear from her. That side had nearly won, having sufficiently drilled it into her mind that she would be wasting her time on someone who didn't need her to need his attention, but at this very last second, she's changed her mind.

He needs to know, she tells herself, using it to be the reason for the parchment set out on her study table.

He would not have offered if he didn't need to know, she urges herself to pick up a quill from among her Muggle stationery.

He's not the sort to be that accommodating, especially since it was my own fault that you were cursed, she hurriedly plumps into her study chair before that other side wins her over.

It doesn't need to be something long, she encourages herself as she positions her quill directly over the parchment.

It'll only be to tell him that I'm fine, thanks to him, and then actually thank him for it, she motivates herself when her hand won't move to start writing.

It's harder than she thought, she comes to terms with, causing her to look up from the parchment and dedicate her eyes to watching the wall in front of her. The battle inside had not been for nought, seeing as she remains stuck on writing the letter at all. Were the letter written, the battle would be different. That it's not, may be a sign that she shouldn't write to begin with. After all, this decision to write it did not come from rationality, it's the result of an undue impulse of the moment.

Suppose that she is wrong and he wouldn't terribly mind to hear from her, will he care to send her a response?

It's that, truly.

That's what's keeping her from at least attempting to make a rough go at constructing a letter to him. It's that the foundation of her apprehension and self-battle is the harsh confrontation of him not caring a thing. What frightens her away from writing to him, is the response of no word from him.

She could be wrong, she realises, and maybe he would appreciate to hear from her, but what if he truly does not care? She largely suspects that he does not care, no matter how desperate she is for him to care even a little bit. But what if she's wrong and he is worried about her? He asked her to write to him, for goodness' sake. How is she thinking to simply go on this holiday with her parents tomorrow without letting him that she is at least all right?

It'll only be something short and to the point:

'Dear Professor Snape,' she practices aloud. 'I did not experience any blood loss, headaches, or anything of the sort. I am perfectly all right, Professor. Thank you.'

That should do it. She can't say more. Or should she? No, no. She just needs to tell him that she's not uncomfortable. And that she's thankful for what he did for her. There shouldn't be more than that -there just shouldn't.

All right, she'll do it.

At last convinced, she scrambles to write the letter before she changes her mind again.


26Chapters


If she knew, if she even guessed that waiting for his reply, would be this much, she wouldn't have written to him at all. Or better, if she'd have written him, she would've sent it in the middle of her holiday, so that she wouldn't be bothered to wait for his reply. Why had she not considered that she'd possibly have to wait for a reply.

She'd at first been afraid that he wouldn't have replied at all, but after she'd sent the owl off with the letter, she's sent it flying with a place filled with expectation in her heart. Expectation that he would respond to her. So far, she's been unable to convince herself that he'll ignore her letter, because that would indeed mean that he does not care to send her word.

Oh, she's been stupid not to consider the time in between; the waiting time.

Who's to say that he will even reply? And if he does reply, will it be positive?

Oh, the waiting is the hardest. And the strangest, because it means that more than she should, she's thinking about Professor Snape and his reaction to her letter. She's living, but stuck in the waiting for a reply. One part of her mind, no matter what she does or who she talks to, is always on the matter of the letter not received.

She's taken to watching every bird that she can find and wondering if that is the one to bring her reply.

She's taken to staying up later than she ought to, in case he will send the reply by night.

She's taken to taking walks when she's supposed to be relaxing, just so she makes the owl's job easier; if she is out in the open, she will easily be found.

The only thing that she has been successful at so far, is how she's managed to ruin her holiday with this. Nothing else. She's done her best to not notice that she's ruining her own holiday, but every moment that she doesn't receive a response, her heart dies.

How she hates the waiting.


26Chapters


Miss Granger,

Summer remains still. And so do my words.

It's him. He replied. Even without his signature or name, she knows that it's him. Her hands had been shaking as they opened the letter, and to be honest, she's still feeling tingles all over her body for it. While it's pretty clear that he didn't spend a mental amount of time revising the letter and picking the appropriate words to say to her, it's still just a shocking thing to her, that he responded.

Oh, of course, she reasons now that the letter is in her hands, he does have other things to do. He too is on holiday. Perhaps with a friend or family member. Trelawney, maybe? She must have cut into his holiday and he still made the time to respond to her. Three weeks later, but he replied. It makes him quite thoughtful, actually. And that's where she's leaving it. With a smile. And tingles still echoing within her.

Okay, maybe she'll write him another letter. Just to tell him that she's now at The Burrow, and that Molly and Arthur will take care of her should anything go wrong. She will, of course wonder if he will reply, but at least here, the waiting will be filled with the presence of her friends, so it won't be as bad.


26Chapters


'What are you doing? Are you studying already?' Ginny asks her two days after his letter arrives.

'No,' she says, not looking up from her parchment. 'I'm writing to Professor Snape.'

'Why?'

Surely, Ginny must mean why she's choosing to write the letter at the breakfast table, because it otherwise has nothing to do with her really. Professor Snape may be all their teacher, but their individual experiences with him are specific to each.

'What do you mean, why?' she looks at Ginny.

'I mean, why are you writing to him when you can just tell him yourself.'

'That's what the letter is for, Ginny,' she answers, her eyes going back to the parchment.

'No,' Ginny takes the seat next to her. 'I mean that he's coming here. I heard Mum tell Dad that he'll be dropping something off. It will be late, but you can always stay up and wait for him to come.'

Equally surprised and excited, she lifts her face to look at Ginny beside her. She will not lie, if she felt that she could spring up from her chair and then make a small celebratory jump into the air, she would do it. Him coming to the Burrow means that she will see get to see him and if she sees him...

'No,' she declines all of a sudden, 'I'll just write to him.'

It'll be better for her that way. He might even prefer it that way.

'That's silly,' Ginny tells her and then suddenly, 'Mum, Professor Snape's coming here, isn't he?'

Molly is all the way at the stove, putting her a fair distance away from them, even with how small the kitchen is, but Hermione still shoots Ginny a glare to reprimand her for not letting the matter go. She then looks to see how Molly reacts to the question.

'Ginny!' her mother scolds without facing them. 'How do you know that?'

'I heard you and Dad talking about him this morning,' Ginny answers with a shrug, not in the least bothered by her mum's reaction.

With firm hands on either side of her waist, Ginny's mum looks ready to whack her over the head as she says, 'You shouldn't listen to my conversations with your father! And besides, I expect that you will all be in bed by then. He won't be staying long. It's simply an errand for Dumbledore that's bringing him here.'

'I don't care,' Ginny flings the information away. 'It's Hermione who wants to see him, not me.'

What?

The surprise that she feels at suddenly being outed without her consent is so overwhelmed that she's nearly completely certain that she accidentally smudges ink on her parchment, while being too stunned to say anything. The only thing that she can successfully do without creating a mess, is look from Ginny beside her to Molly, a little distance away from them and whose interest is now in her.

'Hermione, dear, you want to talk to Professor Snape?'

Uh… No, she doesn't. It's only that she can't get her mouth to open and say the words, but she doesn't want to talk to him. She made that clear to Ginny.

'Hermione?' Mrs. Weasely prompts, understandingly actually, which forces her to respond.

'It's all right, Mrs. Weasely,' she shyly says. 'I can talk to him when term begins. It's no problem, thank you.'

'I could tell him, if you want, dear.'

No, no. She's already writing him a letter, so…

'Thank you, Mrs. Weasely, but I already wrote to him that I'm fine.'

She thought that it would deter the woman from saying more on the subject, except it doesn't. It apparently just serves to push her to make sure that no visual contact happens between her and the professor.

'Well, give me the letter, then, will you? I'll make sure that he gets it, dear. Don't worry.'

With that encouraging smile, that insisting outstretched hand and that generous offer, she not really supposed to refuse now, is she?


26Chapters


Nerves are a terrible thing.

As an overachieving student, she's had her various experiences with nerves, and yet she cannot say that those nerves can and will ever compare to the nerves of being everything to do with Professor Snape at the moment.

All through the night, she kept her eyes and ears open, hoping to hear him deliver whatever it was, to not hear a single thing at all. Sadly, she never did hear him, which is why now at the breakfast table, she doesn't even begin to assume that he came at all. That is until Mrs. Weasley says something about it.

'Oh, Hermione dear, Professor Snape gave me something for you.'

'He came?'

The words rush out, surprise and nerves with them, just as she feels them within. At this point, she really has no care on how desperate she may come across. Or that anyone finds out that she'd been awake all night, listening for him.

'Yes, he did,' she answers with a smile. 'He asked if you were all right.'

Smiling back at Mrs. Weasley, she's about to say, 'I'm fine,' when all of a sudden, Ron blurts out, 'Mum, did he tell you what he did to Hermione?'

Following the words, is a long silence that's intricately questioning. All the members at the breakfast table turn their faces to Ron, waiting for him to elaborate on what he just said. In her seat, probably unlike everyone else who is waiting to be filled in on what Professor Snape supposedly did, she's about to flame up. Ronald must not realise just how incriminating that sounded. For the first thing, his announcement re-opens the fact that they'd caused trouble at the Ministry and she's sure that no one at the table wants to re-live that time. And the second thing-

'Ronald!' she scolds.

'What did Professor Snape do to her?' Mrs. Weasley asks at the same time.

'I meant...' he begins, his eyes going between her, who just scolded him and his mum. 'Um… He's forcing her to brew potions for him.'

'He's not forcing me, Ron. I choose to be there brewing. I want to be there. I learn loads about new potions. Potions that aren't even covered in our books. It's important for me, you know. I used to believe I would be a doctor when I was little.'

No matter that she's given it up all now, but those are her feelings. And as Harry has said, 'Snape wants her there.'

'Come of it, Hermione,' Ron retaliates. 'No one in their right mind would want to brew for Snape.'

'Are you calling me mad, Ronald?'

'No,' he denies.

Good, because she is in her right mind, and at this point, brewing potions has become something that she routinely does. She's gotten used to it. And quite truthfully, she has no intention of giving it up now that Professor Snape seems to have an interest in her again. But to Ronald, she won't tell any of that. She won't say anything at all. She won't give him any more attention.

'But still, Hermione, it's Snape!' Ron insists. 'It can't be fun brewing for him.'

'Stop it, Ron!' Ginny cries out. 'You should follow her example, you know. You're rubbish at Potions, I'll bet.'

Pulling a disgusted face, Ron loudly refuses the offer. 'And brew for Snape? No, thank you.'

Instead of telling him that brewing is actually an easy thing, that she doesn't even interact with him that much, she pushes her chair out, getting ready to leave the table.

'Excuse me,' she apologises for the abrupt decision to leave, 'but I don't feel like breakfast anymore.'

'It's all right, dear,' Mrs. Weasley understands. 'Take your letter from Professor Snape with you, it's right there next to the stove.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.'

She quietly sighs out her relief, because although the breakfast went terribly, a response from Professor Snape is an alleviator.

She can't wait to read it.


26Chapters


'He's written you a letter?'

The indignant tone comes from behind her, frightening her a little bit, but mostly making her frown her displeasure. She really thought that she'd found a quiet place away from everyone and the whole idea had been precisely that, so she could open her letter in closed privacy.

'Leave me, Ronald,' she tells him.

Hers and Snape's relationship has never been something that she disclosed to either of her two best friends, but apparently Ronald forgot that, and did his annoying best to find her hiding place. Why can't he ever just let her be? Or better, be properly attentive to her feelings and needs?

'Snape wrote you a letter?' he asks, proving her right, that he can never be discerning when it comes to her. 'What does he want? I mean, think about it, Hermione, you're fine, you're not sick, so what could he want with you?'

She should ask if he honestly found her just to annoy her, but she only thinks about one very important thing; even if she did feel like dissecting how she chooses to fill time and where Snape falls into that, including her interactions with him, Ron's entitlement is not to know. If he were maybe to sound less demanding, as though he has the right to get answers from her, she would consider telling him. At the moment, she only has the will to shout at him.

'It has nothing to do with you, Ron!'

Ronald, as undiscerning as he is, chooses that very moment to come from around her, to take a seat next to her, and she, being enraptured in the response that she received, quietly proceeds to open the letter, paying absolutely no mind to his presence.

'What do you mean that it has nothing to do with me?' he demands.

But Ronald is a pest sometimes!

Because of that, immediately pursing her lips and clenching onto the letter in her hands, she faces her friend, as her mind looks for the best way to explain to him that she means exactly what she said. Her mind can only think to say it as she previously said it, only more aggressively, to hopefully drill it into her friend's head.

'I mean, it has nothing to do with you!'

He seems not to understand her, because he still asks, 'Meaning what?'

Ronald Weasley!

What part of what she said is so hard for him to understand? How has he gotten through Hogwarts, if he can't think commonly to do with sense? That she has to explain basic things to him, is emotionally taxing on her, especially since she just needs the space by herself to read the letter from the Professor. Honestly, she will try one last time with him, and then no more.

'Meaning that there are things in my life that have nothing to do with you, Ron!' she forcefully tells him. 'Besides, did you forget that I brew potions?'

'How could I forget!' he seems to vent. 'You go there and never say anything about what he makes you do! You never say anything about Snape, and suddenly he's writing letters to you, and you're hiding to read them?'

'Don't be a disgusting hypocrite, Ronald!' she cries, fully fed up now. 'You're never interested in what I do with the other teachers, so why should Potions be any different?'

'He's Snape, that's what's different,' he says like that explains everything.

To be completely fair and honest, he does have a point. Professor Snape can be very cruel, but ever since she started answering him back, he hasn't been cruel to her exactly. The difference is there now, and she actually likes him as a living person. They are not friends, he's not her favourite person either, but as a person, she likes him now. He doesn't treat her like he used to, and she's begun to develop expectations of him that... Well, never mind those.

'Just leave me,' she tries to get him to leave, but just then, he grabs the letter from her.

Quite quickly, having jumped back from her reach, he opens the letter, runs his eyes over the parchment and then makes the strangest face. His eyes lift from the parchment to her face, keeping the strange expression on his face.

'What?' she wonders, not necessarily worried about what he read.

Professor Snape couldn't have written her anything worrisome, she knows that. Even if he had, she doesn't believe that he would have given it to Ron's mum for delivery.

'What is it, Ron?' she asks again.

'Good,' he responds.

What's strange is that he sounds disbelieving to the point of disturbance. Neither his answer, nor the tone accompanying the answer makes sense to her, which is why she asks him the same question again.

'What?'

'Snape,' he replies with his eyes going back to the parchment. 'He wasted parchment just to write one word. He's mental. Snape's mental!'

One word?

It's not that she doesn't believe Ron, but in a way, she doesn't, so she grabs the letter from him and sure enough, there is the single word.

Good.

Good, he wrote.

Just one word.

It makes her smile, appreciating his thoughtfulness too much.

Ron's wrong. He doesn't understand anything and she will not do anything to make him understand. Professor Snape replied with one word, yes, but that isn't a waste of parchment, that's a response. He responded when he could have not. Even with only one single word, he responded.

He responded.