A Quiet Place at the End of the World

Chapter Seven: You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch

'Come to the Burrow for Christmas, Hermione. Lupin will be there. It'll be a laugh,' Ron prodded for the fourth time that week.

Hermione pointedly glanced down the table at Lavender Brown, who kept shooting suspicious looks their way every so often. 'Are you sure your girlfriend won't mind?'

Harry kicked her hard under the table.

Ron's ears turned pink. 'Well… I haven't exactly told her…'

'Honestly Ron,' she exclaimed, 'this is getting a bit ridiculous. I'm your oldest friend—'

'Second oldest friend,' Harry pointed out through a mouthful of pie.

'— and yes, I happen to be a girl. She needs to deal with it.'

Ron sighed dramatically, shredding his bread into tiny pieces. 'You don't understand.'

'Believe me, I understand more than you think.' Her eyes darted to the high table. 'It doesn't matter anyway, I promised my parents I would visit this Christmas.'

No need to tell them about the heavy feeling in her chest when she remembered it could be her last Christmas with her family.

'You could always visit them during the Easter holidays. I'm sure they wouldn't mind,' Harry suggested.

'I want to see my parents at Christmas.'

'A compromise then,' Ron said finally. 'Come to the Burrow, then you can use the Floo on Christmas Eve to go back home. I'm sure my dad can set them up temporarily.'

Harry watched her carefully across the table. 'You need a break. You've been working so hard this term, we barely see you.'

'He's right. You haven't looked this bad since Third Year.'

'Gee thanks Ron. You're so charming, it's no wonder Lavender fell for you,' she replied sarcastically. 'Spending time with my parents is still a break.'

Ron laughed. 'It's not a break if you use the whole time to do homework.'

'I would not.'

'Would too,' the boys said simultaneously.

Of course she would. Well, maybe not the whole time, but she definitely saw it as an opportunity to catch up. Having this past week off to rest had made her realise just how busy she had been. Between classes, homework, Prefect duties and Snape's lessons she barely had a moment to breathe.

Hermione finished the last of her soup before wiping her mouth on her napkin. It wasn't a bad idea. She had to admit it would be nice to spend at least some time in the company of friends without school work or the weight of the world resting on their shoulders.

'I'll owl my parents.' She rolled her eyes when Harry and Ron high-fived each other. 'You know, it wouldn't hurt if either of you actually studied.'

'I hand my assignments in on time, isn't that enough?' Ron whinged.

'Yeah besides, our N.E.W.T's aren't until next year, remember?'

Hermione shook her head, fighting a smile. 'Well don't come moaning to me in the spring when it's time to revise. I won't help.' She stood up. 'On that note, I'm off to the library, if anyone wants to join me?'

'Sorry Hermione, Quidditch practice,' Harry said, ruffling his hair as he leant back.

Ron started piling pudding onto his plate. 'Yeah shame, that.'

She snorted, her eyes flickering to the high table again. Snape rested his chin on his fist as Slughorn and Hagrid spoke over him. As if sensing her gaze he looked up and scowled at her. Hermione blushed and rushed out of the Great Hall toward the library.

She knew Ron and Harry had practice, otherwise she never would have extended the invitation. It had been a tricky few months, forever trying to find time and space to work on Snape's lessons. Thankfully Quidditch usually fell on a Wednesday. She wasn't sure if Snape had taken this into account when choosing a night. Probably. He was all about the details, that man.

It also helped that the boys had been fairly distracted between Harry's private lessons with Dumbledore, and Ron's budding relationship with Lavender. Ugh. She wasn't sure why the whole thing annoyed her so much; after all, it wasn't like she held any sort of monopoly on either boy. They were their own people and free to date whomever they chose. But even so, it was Ron. Ron, who made her toes tingle whenever his leg brushed against hers under the desk.

Hermione checked her wristwatch. She had forty-five minutes to finish her essay on the properties of the Sopophorous plant before she was due in the dungeons. Finding a quiet corner she tried to get to work, but her mind kept drifting.

It had been a weird week without her daily practice. Her body had grown used to the exercise and it felt strange to take a break from it all. Not that she was complaining too much — it was nice to have a little extra time to catch up on sleep and sneak away to the Prefect's baths in the evening. She vowed to take better care of herself after the Christmas season.

Something warm rubbed against her leg and she looked down to see Crookshanks. She grinned and pulled the great ginger cat into her lap.

'You'd better not let Madam Pince find you in here. I'm not being held accountable for your naughtiness,' she scolded him, scratching under his chin. She absently doodled on the corner of her parchment, her mind dragging back to her duel with Snape. Studying under him for the last five years, she had grown accustomed to his constant mood swings. While she'd never witnessed it herself, she knew from Harry's accounts he had quite the nasty temper.

Hermione was always acutely aware that he was holding back on her while they fought, carefully controlling his actions. But that evening there was something different. She could feel the frustration and anger rolling off him in waves, and while he still fought with discipline, for the first time she got a hint of the dangerous wizard Snape truly was. She had found herself being pulled into his orbit.

Hermione stroked Crookshanks' back, comforted by his familiar purrs. He had also given a glimpse into his darker side. Had she known Snape had partaken in some cruel activities? Yes, and no. After the events at the Quidditch World Cup she should have realised exactly what it meant to be one of Voldemort's followers. The injustice and pure hatred towards Muggles and Muggle-borns was astonishing. She wasn't sure how or what brought Snape back into goodness, but there was the uncomfortable knowledge that he had held the ideals she abhorred at some point in his life.

She touched her chest absently. His demeanour had changed when his spell had hit her chest, triggering a flare-up of the curse. It wasn't quite kindness, but rather a subtle change to his usual bitter attitude. He sounded almost regretful when he explained that she would never recover. The news had been… devastating. And oddly a relief. For months she had been angry at herself for messing up at the Ministry. But by forcing herself to confront the concept that sometimes bad things happened to good people, it allowed her the freedom to accept that the situation had been beyond her control. She couldn't change what happened. All she could do was focus on what she could control: in this moment it was learning to fight within the new limits of her body. She refused to be a burden to Harry.

'No cats in the library! Out!'

Hermione jumped, Crookshanks flying to the floor with a hiss. Madam Pince came storming down the aisle, her face nearly as murderous as Snape's.

'I'm sorry. He's going, I swear,' Hermione pleaded.

Madam Pince glared at her, her hands on her hips. 'Both of you, out of my library.'

'But—'

'Out.'

Hermione grudgingly collected her things. She narrowed her eyes at Crookshanks. 'This is your fault. No… don't give me that look, I told you you weren't allowed in there.' She sighed and checked her watch. 'I might as well go down now I suppose.'

When Crookshanks began to follow her she pointed her finger firmly toward the marble staircase. 'No you don't. Back up to the tower for you. I'm fairly certain Professor Snape would transfigure you into a cushion and then you'd be sorry.'

He gave her one last look of contempt before slinking off.

Snape was sitting behind his desk when she arrived. 'You're early.' His tone was clipped.

'Apologies sir. I was working in the library and then… well… my cat, you see…'

He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a long suffering sigh. 'Miss Granger, will you stop talking.'

She peered at her toes. 'Sorry.'

He shook his head and turned back to the parchment in his hands, leaving her to wait awkwardly in the middle of the room. She picked at the hem of her robes until he finally set aside his work. His gaze swept her from head to toe, unashamedly travelling from her worn Oxfords to the red satin headband holding her hair back from her face. She tried to still her fidgeting, feeling incredibly disconcerted while he openly assessed her person.

'Miss Granger, I specifically asked you to rest this week.'

She bristled. 'I have, sir. Aside from my normal studies I haven't practised at all.'

He scowled, his fingers drumming on the desk. 'Come here.'

She went to him, her eyes widening when he grabbed her arm and yanked her closer. He roughly pushed her robes back to check her pulse.

'Your heart rate is still too high. I told you to see me if your symptoms persisted,' he demanded.

'I've been tired, but I was fine…'

His cold fingers tightened around her wrist, his dark eyes holding hers. 'Legilimens.'

Her head spun as he pushed into her mind, flicking through her memories from the past week… Working on her essay in the library. Ron throwing an arm around her shoulder while they sat side by side on the sofa. Harry laughing in Herbology as she struggled with the Venomous Tentacula. Her heart racing at Snape's dark expression as he pressed her against the wall, his breath warm on her face.

Snape broke the contact and dropped her wrist.

'Is that sufficient evidence, sir?' She threw herself into the chair across from him, feeling vulnerable. It should be illegal for him to be able to access her mind without warning.

'We'll take a break from duelling until after Christmas, at which time I will reassess,' he told her coldly.

She squawked. 'But—'

Snape pushed a thick tome across the desk. 'In the meantime, you will focus your attention here.'

Hermione could never turn down a book. She looked at him apprehensively, half expecting him to change his mind before she took the heavy book into her lap. The green leather cover was very old and cracked in several places. Carefully she flipped it open to the first page, running her fingers reverently down the yellow parchment containing an index.

'This is advanced healing magic,' she said quietly. Her eyes scanned the first few lines. Corpore Sanguis. Livor Morris. Vox Sanguinis. She shuddered. 'No… not healing magic…'

Snape rested his chin on his hands as he studied her. 'Your first assumption was correct, Miss Granger.'

She frowned. 'But this is blood magic.' Although she had read references to it, blood magic sat strictly in the Do Not Touch section of her mental library.

'Yes.'

She tucked a leg up under her, curling up into the uncomfortable chair. Without another glance at him she began to read.

They settled into a quiet, comfortable silence. She was half-aware of his presence, the continual scratching of his quill becoming background noise as she let the words of ancient magics wash over her. She wasn't entirely unfamiliar with healing magic; after all she was friends with a boy who was notorious for getting himself into difficult situations. But the theories covered in Snape's book were grossly different.

From what she could gather the book had been written by a physician or MediWizard, detailing how the body reacted with different magic. The author explored conflicting ideas around the source of power and how certain potions could draw on these sources to heal or destroy.

Occasionally there were little notes scribbled in the margins or passages which had been underlined. One particular section on the theory of magical influence had an asterisk and page 456 written next to it. She curiously followed the breadcrumbs and grimaced. Blood binding.

'Sir, is it really possible to bind one's magic to another?'

Snape ran the tip of his quill along his bottom lip before making one last note on the essay in front of him. He peered at her through his hair.

'That's the idea, yes.'

Her stomach roiled. 'I don't understand. You could drain the other person. Surely it would kill them, not heal them.'

'You're partially correct.' He gestured at the book in her hands. 'In this particular instance one would only draw on another's magic when necessary. Each person would remain autonomous.'

She rubbed at the inside of her wrist, mulling over the idea. 'Has You-Know-Who ever tried this before?'

He stared at her, unblinking.

'No of course not,' she corrected herself. 'Body autonomy means it's consensual magic. Give and take.'

'Precisely. The Dark Lord has other ways to draw on magic,' he explained, scratching his left arm. Hermione tried not to stare.

'Is that how the Dark Mark works?'

Snape sighed. 'No. Fortunately the Mark is nothing but a means for summons.'

'Like a Protean charm.'

He shot her a dark look. 'Yes.'

She squirmed, remembering the coins she made the previous year for Harry. She shifted her eyes to the floor before Snape had another opportunity to look into her mind.

'That still doesn't explain how this is classified as healing magic. Blood magic and binding… that's quite serious magic. It's life altering,' she mused.

'You understand that all magic has consequences. It requires a delicate balance.'

'Well…'

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that startled her. It made him appear so human.

'Your power is not infinite. Think of it like a well. Some are deeper than others. It begins to grow as a person goes through puberty and bottoms out when they reach adulthood.'

Her cheeks heated at the idea of talking about something so intimate with her professor.

'Okay, so everyone has a reserve… and the blood binding allows you to draw on the other person's reserves…' she leant forward, fascinated by the concept. 'Under the right circumstances it could be quite useful. Why isn't it more common?'

His eyes burned, his eyebrows raising. 'There's a reason the spell is called life's blood.'

Hermione's eyes grew wide. 'Because you're literally tying your life to theirs. Meaning-–'

'If your life ends…'

'So does theirs,' she finished. He smirked as though telling a sinister joke and a shiver crawled down her spine. 'Surely this is more Dark Arts than healing magic.'

'The world is not so black and white, Miss Granger.' Snape glanced at the clock. 'As interesting as this conversation is, I will not cover for you if you're found out of bed after curfew.'

'Yes, sir.' She closed the book and placed it mournfully on the desk.

'That book is from my personal collection so it shall stay here, though you may continue your studies next week. In the meantime—' he pushed another book toward her, 'we shall be delving into something a little more… ah… advanced than the standard Hogwarts tuition.'

Hermione traced the grimy spine. 'Magical Warfare.'

'It's from the restricted section, so I expect you'll be sensible with it,' Snape told her sternly.

She dipped her head and rushed to shove the book in her bag. She paused at the door, feeling bereft that her lesson had drawn to a close. She had almost enjoyed the evening.

'Stop standing in my doorway like a gargoyle and get out.'

She bit back a small smile. 'Goodnight sir.'

The quick transformation of Hogwarts into a winter wonderland never failed to entice Hermione's inner child. The touch of magic only heightened the rush of excitement as garlands of holly draped along the corridors and thousands of sparkling lights decorated the giant spruce trees in the Great Hall. Snow blanketed the grounds, glowing in the sunlight. The house elves had lit fires in nearly every grate to stave off the chill, and classes were now punctuated with a gentle crackle. To her surprise, even Snape had a modest fire going in his office and Hermione yearned to pull up a winged-back chair before it so she could dive into her books in cosy comfort.

She had to admit that although she missed duelling, she was enjoying the small reprieve. Plus there was something compelling about this side of Snape that had only briefly been alluded to in classes. He was no less demanding, his tongue still quick to catch her out. But as she soaked up the healing properties of dragon blood and the mental impacts of enchanting metalwork, he actually permitted her to ask questions and be curious. He pushed her mind to the limits in the same way he had pushed her body when fighting. It was exhilarating.

On one hand, Hermione was glad her strength and stamina were gradually returning. On the other hand, with the Christmas break fast approaching it meant she could no longer make excuses and had to face certain festive activities that she would rather shy away from. Like Slughorn's Christmas party.

When Slughorn announced his famed party for all of his Slug Club favourites, she invited Ron to accompany her. After all, he spent half the time whinging that he wasn't cool enough to be collected like her, Ginny and Harry. Ron, of course, had instantly accepted, excited to finally take part in a Slug Club event. However, when Lavender got wind that Ron and Hermione were going together (as though they were harbouring some illicit affair — really!) she absolutely flipped out. Her and Ron engaged in a heated row in the middle of the common room while Harry and Hermione stared on with wide eyes.

So that meant Ron was out of the question. That was fine, because her solid, dependable Plan B was to go with Harry. Except that Harry had already asked Luna to go with him. Which was sweet, but it left Hermione in the very awkward position of spending her whole time at the party trying to dodge Cormac McLaggan. She had no idea what had spurred him on, but Cormac had the strange notion in his head that their small talk at Slughorn's dinners somehow translated into a full blown excuse for him to ask her out. No matter how many times she had subtly suggested she wasn't interested, Cormac took it as a personal mission to be her next date to Hogsmeade.

Hermione was drowning in a flute of champagne behind a pillar when Ginny and Dean spotted her.

'You alright Hermione?' Ginny asked as they crowded into the small space.

'Mhmm. Perfectly fine,' Hermione answered, looking over Dean's shoulder at the other party guests. She was hoping Harry would be there soon so she could permanently glue herself to his side. 'Why do you ask?'

'You look a tad…'

'Frazzled,' Dean supplied.

'I'm fine, honestly.' She crouched down, nearly sloshing her drink all over her shoes.

Ginny followed her line of sight and giggled. 'Are you hiding?'

'Don't be silly. Why would I be hiding?'

'Oh I don't know,' Ginny tapped her fingers along her jaw, smiling coyly. 'You are crouching behind a pillar. Does it have anything to do with Cormac?'

Hermione hid her face in her hand.

'Cormac McLaggan?' Dean grinned.

'Shhhhh. Don't say his name! He might hear you,' Hermione groaned.

He snorted. 'He's not going to suddenly appear if you call him three times, you know.'

She shot him a scathing look.

'He's a bit like a golden retriever, don't you think?' Ginny teased.

'If you don't mind getting shite all over your shoes,' she retorted. Ginny and Dean nearly lost it in a fit of giggles.

'Why don't you tell him you're not interested?' Asked Ginny.

'Well. I did. Sort of,' she winced. 'But then I got stuck under the mistletoe and he… well… there may have been a very brief kiss involved.'

'So you ran away.' Dean replaced her half-finished flute with a fresh one. 'Makes perfect sense.'

'Hermione Granger,' Ginny smirked, 'you've certainly dug a hole for yourself tonight, haven't you?'

Hermione downed the drink, the bubbles tickling her nose. 'Yes. Well. If your stupid brother hadn't deserted me this evening then maybe I wouldn't need a shovel in the first instance.'

Ginny's eyes grew wide and she pulled the glass off her. 'Ron? Hold on, Hermione, are you actually jealous?'

'Don't be silly. I just—' Hermione's face turned white as Cormac locked eyes with her across the room and raised one eyebrow in what he probably assumed as an attractive gesture. It was not. 'Sorry, excuse me.'

Hermione ducked between two wizards, half hiding behind the garish red and gold drapes. From her spot she could easily make out the other party goers. Harry had finally arrived, looking rather dashing in his dress robes while Luna was… actually quite pretty in a weird, Alice in Wonderland sort of way. Slughorn had already made a beeline for the couple and she continued her scanning of the crowd.

With a jolt she realised Snape was in attendance. Of course he was. While she knew from the photos in Slughorn's office that Snape hadn't made the original Slug Club, she figured holding the record for being one of the youngest Hogwarts professors probably held some sort of appeal. Could teachers even be collected? The thought made her giddy. Or was that the glass of champagne.

She watched him from across the room as he prowled behind two students who were getting particularly close under the mistletoe. He waited for the right moment to pounce on the couple like a great black cat, yanking back the young wizard by the scruff of his neck.

'But it's Christmas!' She could hear the boy protesting.

Hermione snickered. He was such a Grinch.

'Care to share?'

She jumped, looking up to see a very tall, very pale Vampire standing far too close for comfort.

'I do not believe we have been introduced,' the Vampire said. He held out his palm for her hand. 'Sanguini.'

She swallowed, unable to take her eyes off him. His hand was soft under her own as he lifted it to his mouth, his lips gently brushing against her knuckles.

'Hermione,' she told him. Did her voice always sound that high and breathy?

Her mind had gone blank as she stared into Sanguini's dark eyes. They were so beautiful. Her blood thrummed under her skin and her gaze flickered down to his lips. She had the urge to touch his jawline to see if the skin there was as cool as it looked.

'Ah, Helen of Troy's daughter. What a beautiful name.' His breath smelled sickly sweet and she stepped closer. 'Are you here alone, Hermione?'

Was she? There was Ron…

No. Wait. Ron wasn't here. That's right. Ron had ditched her for that awful cow.

'Who cares about Ronald,' she replied. Sanguini chuckled, a rich sound that felt like bathing in hot chocolate.

'You are quite funny, aren't you little one?'

Hermione fiddled with the necklace around her throat, tilting her head to the side. 'I—'

A hand tightly gripped her elbow, roughly pulling her away from the Vampire. 'Say Goodnight, Miss Granger,' a voice growled in her ear.

'Goodnight, Miss Granger,' she replied. The room whirred past her in bright golds until she was shoved unceremoniously down into a seat.

Two hands framed her face, tilting her head up to meet the angry eyes of—

'Professor Snape,' she gasped.

'Foolish girl. I thought you had more sense than to throw yourself at a Vampire,' he snarled.

'I— he—'

She blinked several times, trying to clear the fog from her brain.

'He was about to make a very fine meal out of you if I hadn't stepped in. I should have allowed him, if you're going to be as pathetically dimwitted as a goldfish.'

Hermione huffed and knocked his hands away. Must he always insult others by drawing comparisons to animals? 'Well sir, you're about as charming as an eel.' She smirked, feeling proud of herself. Two could play that game.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

See. That's how it was supposed to be done. Cormac needed to take note. She pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to hide her giggle.

'Miss Granger. Have you been drinking?'

'What?' She bit her lip, trying to contain her humour. 'No. Of course not.'

'Liar.' He leaned in and she was surrounded by black hair, and the overwhelming smell of ink and cedar wood. Hermione made an attempt to cover her eyes.

'No looking! That's not fair,' she protested. 'Okay. It was one drink. Maybe two. Don't blame me, I'm not the one supplying students with champagne.'

'No, but I expect a Prefect such as yourself to act responsibly,' he growled.

Normally such a reprimand would make her cringe with embarrassment. Instead she took one look into his curling lip and glittering eyes, and let out an extremely unladylike snort. 'Honestly Professor, I don't know why anyone ever thought you were a Vampire. You're definitely more terrifying.'

Was he smirking? Oh god, she really had lost the plot. Snape looked up at the ceiling. 'Wait here Miss Granger, I'll find you some water. Try not to get into further trouble.'

Hermione laid her head back against the wall, trying to collect her thoughts. Between the champagne and the enthralment her brain had entirely gone for a walk about. She was nearly drifting off when a hand gently brushed against hers. Her eyes shot open, expecting to see Snape but the area around her was devoid of guests.

'Hermione,' hissed Harry.

She waved her hand. 'Begone, ghost of Christmas past.'

'It's me, Harry, you idiot. Come on, we need to talk.'

'I know that.' She rolled her eyes dramatically. 'As if this night couldn't get any more ridiculous. Fine, lead the way. Oh wait—' she broke off and giggled. 'I guess I'll lead the way, you know, you being invisible and all.'

Hermione escaped into the corridor, finding a suitably quiet alcove. Harry pulled off his cloak and cast a Muffliato charm.

'Snape and Malfoy are up to something,' he said seriously.

Not this again. 'Harry…'

'No. Listen. I just followed them—'

'Harry!'

'Shut up and listen! Voldemort has given Malfoy a job and Snape was offering to help him.'

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, pushing every silly thought of Snape, Sanguini and Cormac out of her brain. Time to think, Granger.

'Are you sure he wasn't offering to help him with his classes or something?'

'No.' Harry's chin jutted out. 'No. It's definitely something more serious than that. Snape made some kind of… unbreakable oath to Malfoy's mother to protect him.'

She felt like someone had shoved her into the lake. 'An Unbreakable Vow? That's a very serious accusation.'

'So you believe me then,' he pressed.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. 'I don't know Harry. There could be all sorts of reasons why Professor Snape would make an Unbreakable Vow to Mrs Malfoy. It still doesn't mean You-Know-Who is interested in recruiting students. Leave it be.'

'Maybe he needs a spy.'

'That's what he has Professor Snape for,' Hermione reminded him pointedly.

'Well I don't know, Hermione. Snape was angry at Malfoy because he wouldn't share his plans.' Harry ran his hands through his hair and groaned. 'We know Malfoy gave Katie that necklace. Maybe Snape is trying to get it back for him.'

She stamped her foot. 'Stop. I won't hear anymore of it. We don't know that for sure, and even if we did it still doesn't mean Malfoy is a Death Eater. You've already expressed your concerns to McGonagall and Dumbledore, now let it go.' Cancelling Harry's charm she stalked off down the corridor.

'Hermione, wait, where are you going?'

'Back to the common room. Funnily enough I'm not in a very festive mood anymore,' she said coolly.

But as she headed back toward the Gryffindor tower a sour feeling settled into her stomach like curdled milk. Snape had told her that despite his loyalties to Dumbledore, he would do what needed to be done to remain an agent of both sides. The Unbreakable Vow was quite a serious oath: after all, the consequences of breaking one was death. Could this mean he was wrapped up in some nefarious plot?

When asked about the necklace, he denied that he was under any threat. But his silence around her theories on Dumbledore and Slughorn spoke volumes. If Harry was right and Malfoy was connected to the necklace… What did that mean for Snape? And what fate was meant for the necklace's intended recipient?

Author Note:

Tipsy Hermione is absolutely a nod to Pet Project, a fic which will forever hold a special place in my heart! 3

Playlist:
Van Horn, Saint Motel
You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch, Lindsey Stirling and Sabrina Carpenter