A/N: It has been a minute, I didn't quite realise I hadn't written all term, but it's holidays again so I have the time. Thank you so much to everyone that comments and all those that have been requesting updates, don't worry I am never going to abandon this work it will probably just stall during school. However, fourth term approaches and with it Summer holidays so much excitement, you will probably get a lot of updates in quick succession, still about 3 months till then though. I don't know the etiquette on this site so I haven't been responding to comments, if you want me to I will, I appreciate them so so much, I cannot express how they motivate me to continue.
The dates on Hermione's letters were a little off so I've gone back and fixed them in previous chapters, otherwise, here is the rest of Sev reading letters.
Chapter Eleven
Day Six presented a marked improvement for Severus, particularly in terms of not feeling dizzy immediately upon moving. He saw this as a good sign, for, no matter how much he complained, Severus was in no particular hurry to return to teaching when he was not entirely in charge of his faculties; he could not disrupt his image with one of weakness. But, more importantly, he chided himself, Potions could be a somewhat hazardous subject when not strictly controlled, especially when those instructed were the dunderheads that comprised Hogwarts students.
After his pathetic admittance Tuesday night, Madam Pomfrey had yet to question him about anything other than his physical health. He hoped her visit this morning would clear him; after six days of being treated like an invalid, Snape was ready to curse whoever stepped through his grate. He longed for Monday, Albus had no doubt been far too lenient on his students, and they would probably require more whipping into shape than they did after the summer holidays. Poppy had yet to return the letters; he could sense her reluctance and lingering gaze even when she was not blatantly obvious about it. She did not trust him. In an attempt to combat her inevitable reservation Severus had spent a great deal of time on his occlumency over the past week. Although he was more than proficient at both occlumency and legilimency – proven by his ability to protect his mind against the Dark Lord – the experiences he had had with both Poppy and Minerva last Saturday had quite clearly demonstrated for him that his ability to occlude essential and sensitive information or, in this case, emotions was apparently lacking. As a result of this renewed dedication, Severus found he had managed to sort the new memories and emotions he was feeling and practice pulling his mask into place before dealing with things. This way, he believed, he would be able to let any powerful emotions, like the letter situation, trickle through slowly – or ideally – not come at all. If Severus could convince Poppy his mental state was checked, he would be given the letters back; it was not a difficult task. He could lie to Poppy. Quite comfortably, Snape reminded himself, if he actually employed one of his most remarkable skills. He surely had to be the first that could remain impassive in front of the greatest dark wizard of all time, but crack for Poppy Pomfrey, well, it would not happen again. His musing was interrupted by the sound of the floo activating. He nodded at Poppy by way of greeting.
"Good morning to you too, Severus. How are we today?"
"Perfectly fine, thank you, Poppy. I believe you will find me in excellent health, and, as it is Friday, I shall return to teaching on Monday."
Poppy cast a diagnostic, pleased to note his blood was entirely back to normal.
"Very well. Your health is... as it was." She paused a moment to fix him with a stern glare. "That is not to say it is good by any measure. Now, Severus, this cannot go on forever; it has been twelve years."
"I fail to see what upsets you," Snape answered tersely.
"Don't be stubborn. You are too thin. You don't eat enough, you are still anaemic, you don't get enough of any vitamin, your hormone levels are deficient. You are malnourished, and it is making you ill." Severus stared at Poppy sulkily. "Enough of this Severus, I am sorry it has taken this for me to see that you desperately need help, but now if you won't take it, I am going to force it upon you. Because I can see, this test is telling me that it has gone on far too long." She looked at him imploringly, almost begging Snape to finally take her help.
"And what," Snape asked icily, "Is your precious test telling you. What else is wrong with me? Why pray tell me, can I not continue just the way I have been?"
"Severus!" Poppy said, exasperated. She sat down, determined to make him listen. "You are underweight. That is what this charm is telling me, and you have been so for a concerning amount of time if this graph is anything to go by. You know it, you can do it yourself if you don't believe me. It is causing you a lot of issues that could otherwise be avoided. It is probably a contributor to your fatigue and irritability; no, don't argue with me." Poppy silenced him as Snape began to bristle indignantly in his chair. "Most relevant, it would be a contributor to the fact that it just took you the better part of a week to recover from losing a significant amount of blood. You can't just go on living off caffeine and whatever else it is you use to keep yourself walking. I don't know what is stopping you, if it is something or just habit, but you need to start taking care of yourself."
Snape sat back, considering his options, lacking the energy to really argue with the woman he believed the most logical escape from her onslaught was to agree in a certain matter of terms.
"Well, now. If I wasn't being watched like a hawk every mealtime by you or Minerva, I might manage it. What exactly do you want me to do about it?" Snape sighed. That had not been the way he wanted to go about it. Poppy faltered for a moment; it appeared she had not expected him to agree in any capacity and did not have a plan in place for that event.
"I want you to read some books. I will bring them to you, my old medical books – the relevant ones, of course – and you can understand for yourself how much danger you place yourself in. And I want you to eat three-quarters of your plate at every meal."
Snape seemed to deflate a little; his mood darkened even further. That was such a simple request. What had become of him that it felt overwhelming? He just didn't have the strength. "Fine." He answered quietly. "I'll try."
"Thank you, Severus." Poppy moved towards him with her arms outstretched, but Snape jumped backwards on reflex.
"Out." He said pointedly.
"But... don't you want the letters?"
Snape's entire demeanour seemed to shift immediately – a fact that was not lost on Poppy.
"Yes. Thank you. I promise I will not make the same mistake." Poppy eyed him carefully, trying to determine his sincerity.
"We will have another discussion about this later, Severus. Until then, I want you to know that you can come to me if you need help or just want to chat. And I want you to eat. I will be sporadically popping by to check you over, so behave, or I will force you down to the hospital wing, and you will have to wait like all the other children." Snape smiled weakly. "Goodbye, Severus." With that, she removed herself from Snape ancient armchair and made her way to the floo. "Oh, and staff meeting Sunday night about new arrangements."
Severus remained still in his chair for several moments after Poppy's departure before standing quickly (swaying a little as a result) and following her through the fire.
He returned minutes later with the small wooden box clutched securely to his chest and the sharp words of Poppy Pomfrey ringing in his ears. Forgoing all appearances of self-control, Severus immediately returned to his position in the armchair and opened the box. He could see rather clearly the ones he had opened previously; they had not been returned to their envelopes which – having been opened with increasing urgency – looked in need of a Reparo at the very least. Snape sat for a minute, considering his actions and the near-fatal effect they had had previously before moving to his initial position in front of the couch. He required the floor to sort the letters quickly.
I've come this far, Snape argued with himself, it would do no good to end now on... well, not an argument but a displeasing review, I suppose you could say. He hoped rather consciously that these later letters would reveal a change of heart, a disagreement with her earlier assessment of his character. Severus could not find a reason as to why he should care what she thought of him but decided it was something best left unexamined. If it does nobody any harm, then indeed it does not matter what I think or feel... or why I think those things, Snape told himself almost pleadingly. I cannot act upon something I don't understand, and therefore, it must be okay. Severus sat mesmerised by the fire; whatever he felt... it was not romantic, thank goodness he thought, I don't think I could live with myself if that were the case. And if it were not romantic, if it was not something that would harm Miss Granger, it doesn't matter...right?
Deciding he was only going in circles unnecessarily, Snape once again laid out the letters, prepared to read every one.
15/2/1993
Well things have changed considerably, Harry found out last night that Hagrid opened the Chamber. They told me this morning. I can't believe it. I mean, I know that he loves strange creatures. I can only remember Norbert back in first year with a shiver, but still. To kill a student? I cannot believe Hagrid would do that. Although Harry said, Riddle didn't believe that either, he said Riddle acknowledged it was an accident. How could it have been, though? It doesn't make any sense. And why would Riddle go looking for him? I guess he must have been like Harry, always getting involved in the wrong sort of business. But. Ugh, I just can't get my head around it. To actually kill another person is awful. I can't imagine he would be able to do it. Today was nice; I like Tuesdays. Double DADA and then Transfiguration and Herbology is a nice day, usually a little fun. The double with Lockhart is always good, I really like the atmosphere of his classroom. Usually, I wish I have my lesson with you but today I was grateful for it. I'm not sure why your not caring has made me so angry. I guess subconsciously (or a little more consciously than I thought), I just really wanted you to care for me. We can't decide if we should go talk to Hagrid about the monster. I think we should just wait until there is another attack. Because what if he isn't the person, and then we've just gone and accused him all over again of something he didn't do. I guess we'll just wait. But it is not very nice. Hagrid is our friend; I don't want him to be out there killing people. Through a monster, obviously. Also, what's the chance it's the same person. I doubt whatever monster Hagrid used is still alive in the Chamber; surely, if they expelled Hagrid, they would have made him open the Chamber and kill whatever monster lived in there. It doesn't add up. Anyway, I'm tired. Bye.
Of course! Snape had forgotten entirely. How on earth did he manage that? He needed to go to Dumbledore, inform him that Riddle's diary was in Hogwarts and apparently interacting with Harry Potter enough for him to grasp his opinion of Hagrid's actions. Of course, it was bloody Hagrid; what else should he have expected? Hagrid and all his bloody monsters, literally it seemed. Why was he still at Hogwarts? What did Dumbledore think? It didn't make sense. Then something struck Severus, feeling almost as though a physical blow had materialised out of thin air. He couldn't tell Dumbledore. What could I possibly say? Snape admonished himself viciously for being so stupid. He couldn't exactly declare he had discovered that necessary little tidbit in Hermione Granger's personal correspondence to him, could he?
"Fuck!" He said aloud. "What am I supposed to do?"
At that moment, the mere prospect of action seemed too overwhelming to Severus; he filed the thought for later consideration and returned his attention to the letter. Somehow he had managed to create a peaceful environment, isolated from the majority of students and staff, and Snape was beyond unwilling to relinquish it so immediately. Hermione wanted him to care for her. She acknowledged it herself. Snape would have found it pitiable if he had not indeed cared for her.
Thursday 17th February, 1993
Dear Professor Snape,
I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, but not also more confused than ever. I can't make out your person. I don't understand you. One minute you hated me, spoke about three words to me in almost an hour, but barely three hours later, you practically carried me back to the tower because I collapsed on you. You told Professor McGonagall. I don't know if I appreciate it or if I want to be even angrier at you. She was so considerate, so kind. I don't understand myself. I seem to constantly wish something like that would happen, give me someone that I feel loves me or at least is concerned for me. But it was so uncomfortable; I didn't realise relationships were like that. I don't understand. Any of it. I'm just tired. I want to sleep for a very long time until everything makes sense again. Anyway. I'll see you tomorrow. I feel more and more awkward as you start finding me in all these awkward situations. I regret wishing for it. But at the same time, I crave it. I'm not sure I want to take care of myself because that means you will have nothing to chide me about besides my grades. My grades don't actually affect me but my health. If you are concerned about that, I can properly misconstrue it as you actually caring. I don't care if it's pretend.
Snape felt oddly moved by her confession that all she really wanted was for someone to care about her; he understood the notion far too well. It bought him immediately back to his own childhood and his own experience with teachers. How desperately he had wished someone would care for him; he had had his mother, of course, but she was somewhat distracted by his father's various furies. She tried, but, as Snape soon came to realise, it is immensely difficult to love a person when every interaction is tinged with fear; eventually, it doesn't seem worth it. But he had clung to each of his primary school teachers; the muggle primary school he attended was relatively benevolent for the late 1960s, and he had gravitated toward English teachers in particular. They had an air, he decided, of mysterious people that would always help, always have the right answer. Of course, they never did; they never knew. In all his time at school, no teacher ever inquired about his life, never about the various bruises or the clothes he wore until they were less than threadbare. Not that it changed at Hogwarts, people just didn't have time for small quiet children who knew too many dark curses. It wasn't like Sluhorn had worried about his home; he didn't see the glamours shimmering around him, so he didn't need to constantly keep his sleeves down. No other teachers cared. They didn't have time. Severus realised he would likely – not likely, he would have – missed Granger's apparent struggles if he was not reading her personal correspondence. You could not tell from her outward presentation; it had just happened that everything had become rather too much for her this year. If he was not spending a considerable amount of time watching her complete potions, he most certainly would not even have noticed her tiredness or occasional lapse of attention as a result. Indeed, he would not be nearly so understanding of it if he had not known her usual state of wellbeing. It made him feel better that she did not resent his position on her health and, deciding he would continue to monitor her, sought to make it his mission to ensure that however she attempted to hide her symptoms, he kept a close watch for her overworking herself. Although Snape did have to admit, it did make him proud that she was utterly confused about his motivations, if not his motivations, then at least him as a person. He deemed it detrimental to his character if a mere second-year could discover his personality. It did then occur to Severus that he had no idea what that was; he had a reputation to preserve, of course, he had maintained one of severity and sarcasm – if not outright cruelty – for the past decade. Still, he was so uncharacteristically nice to Miss Granger. And he had no excuse for it. He supposed, underneath all his inherent hatred for children, Snape would always be an academic. Thus, he apparently had an innate desire to cherish intelligence and enthusiasm, despite believing he despised the one who exhibited it.
18/2/1993
You must have some sort of ulterior motive. Using me to get at Harry or something. Because I am so confused. I cannot read you; I can't tell what you're thinking. None of it makes sense. One minute you think I insult you and are cold and distant, and the next, you're APOLOGISING. Professor Snape apologising. As far as I was aware, those things are mutually exclusive. Why are you so considerate? I regret it. I regret every thought I had, every time I wished a teacher cared about me, took an interest in me. Because this is so much worse. I want you to care. I want. I want. God, I can barely write it down. I think I might have a crush on you. But I just promised you would never find me needing help again. And although I know, I can never guarantee that I have to be better at hiding it. I have to work out what's wrong. You didn't seem to think anything was; maybe I just need food or sleep. Oh well, the holidays are coming. Maybe that will make it better. I have a free afternoon, and it's kinda weird now. I don't want free time, not really. I like your company better than my own.
Hermione.
Snape chuckled; he really must be confusing her. Granger was right, of course; he didn't apologise but, she had also been right in everything she had said toward him and not really that rude. Obviously, he took her criticism a little too seriously if last Saturday was anything to go by. Severus felt rather pitiful for her earnest regret of wanting someone to care for her. What twelve-year-old, he asked himself incredulously, regrets her desperate desire to have another human being care about her. How is that a logical train of thought, especially for such an analytical mind? He thought it was endearing and rather more complicating that she believed she may have a crush on him. However, he actually doubted it for the first time. He could see it all over her face even without employing the merest hints of Legilimency; Granger did not understand her feelings. She didn't know what she was feeling. She labelled it as a crush because she had no way to describe what she thought about him. Either way, getting jumped by a thirteen-year-old, especially when that thirteen-year-old was Hermione Granger, didn't seem to be a likely scenario. Snape decided he would continue to watch her, look out for her because it appeared he was the only one doing it. Minerva didn't seem to have an overly active role in her life, and neither apparently did her parents, so it seemed it was up to him. Her determination to hide whatever was wrong with her only fueled Snape's desire to not only help but discover what she was suffering from. However, his diagnostic seemed to reveal nothing yet, so for now, he surrendered it to the mystery. Not long now, he thought, and she can relish in my ostensibly captivating company.
6/5/1993
I had my meeting with Professor McGonagall today about my subjects. She said she's applying for me to get a time turner. It's like a time machine. I'm going to go and research it in the library. I just wanted to write this first. I'm so excited for the future. I don't have to pick, I can do everything and anything I want to, and I am so, so ready for it. I'm grateful to you Snape, you've been distant since you made me drop Friday's class, but I really do appreciate you telling me all this was possible. I don't think I would have considered it otherwise. I wonder if McGonagall has told him about the time turner yet. I wonder if I can tell him. Maybe I better not, just in case. I'll wait till it's confirmed. Ahhhh. I am so excited. Okay, off to the library.
Have a nice day, Hermione.
The jump in time caught Snape off guard; so far, Granger had seemed to be a reasonably regular writer, but he supposed not a great deal had happened in the final weeks of Spring term and the Easter break. A time turner indeed! Now he understood when she had said Minerva would solve it. She would have applied to the Ministry for a time-turner; they were only given under the most exceptional circumstances, but he supposed an overly ambitious Gryffindor might just qualify. He felt ashamed that she had noticed his distance since he had forced her to reduce their lessons. He had backed off in the hope that she would begin taking care of herself properly; he never got the chance to ascertain whether or not that was the case. She had held up her end of the bargain he saw. She had refused to let him see her struggling. Severus had no way to determine whether she had felt better. Still, there had been no further outbursts and, from these letters at least, nothing awful had happened. Still, something unsettled him. It was an odd gap; he really didn't think she had suddenly turned her entire life around. Whatever was wrong with her, he sensed she had elected to ignore it rather than actually deal with it.
That elicited another chuckle from Severus; if only Poppy could see me, he thought. Here he was, self-righteously observing that he didn't believe a young Gryffindor had chosen to deal with the issues surrounding her lifestyle, instead deciding she would simply continue to live exhausted and hungry. That doesn't sound familiar, doesn't it? Snape thought scathingly. If you can't do it, you should have no expectations of anybody else being able to do so. Trying to recollect his mood, Snape reflected that at least he had done some good; he was pleasantly warmed by Granger's heartfelt gratitude.
7/4/1993
A Gryffindor stole Riddle's diary. Harry's room was a complete mess; someone had gone in and torn it apart, looking for the diary. Someone knew he had it and wanted it back for themselves. I can't believe it. I've told Harry to report it. But who in Gryffindor could possibly want that diary? No one else knew about Riddle, about Hagrid, the Chamber, they couldn't, surely? Snape, I don't know what to do. How on earth is this monster traversing the school without being seen? And why can Harry hear it?
Potter could hear the monster? Then it was... a snake? Of some kind. It had to be. Potter was a Parstlemouth; they had all discovered that very dramatically at the duel. It crossed Snape's mind that Granger seemed to be imploring him for guidance, for answers. Something had drawn him to the box; could it have been that? Perhaps, in both their panics, they hadn't realised that Hermione had accidentally cast a compulsion charm on the box or something similar. On the letter, it must have been. So desperate for an answer, any answer, her magic reached out for her. It was an interesting thought that Severus filed away for later consideration.
"Of course!" He exclaimed suddenly. A basilisk. Petrifying people – all found with strange objects on them. The only reason for Nearly Headless Nick to be petrified too, you couldn't kill a ghost twice! It all made sense. Casting a Patronus summoning Minerva to Albus' office, Snape rushed to the fireplace.
"Headmaster's office."