Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of his wonderful little friends. The only thing that is mine is this sad little plot. Anything recognizable belongs to Ms. Rowling who I hope never finds out what we're doing to her innocent little creations (Hehehehe!! ?) (Wow I used the word 'little' in every sentence—creepy)
Chapter 7
Woeful State
It was precisely 8:02 by the time Hermione had managed to dash through castle to the remote location of the teachers' apartments. The delay was furthered by the fact that the years of student conditioning had taught her that this part of the edifice didn't even exist—at least to the student eye it didn't. The corridor where the rather large portrait of Shakespeare was located was, to all student purposes, simply a blank wall with nothing special or significant to cause it to stand out from the dozen or so other blank walls around the castle. An age configured charm, she now knew, made the corridor imperceptible to students, and this led her to wonder how many of those dozen other blank walls were really secret passages with charms configured to aspects of personality that she simply did not comply with. Hermione surmised that she would have to be as old, and omniscient per say, as Dumbledore before she would ever know all of the secrets that Hogwarts Castle contained.
Now there was just one more problem; the portrait containing Shakespeare, appeared to be sound asleep. At eight o'clock in the evening? Oh for Heaven's sake!
"Excuse me," she whispered quietly to the slumbering lyricist. There was no answer as he continued to sleep peacefully, head and arms resting unceremoniously on a large book that Hermione could only assume to be 'his' Complete Works. She giggled faintly at the notion before coughing a bit and repeating her earlier address a little louder. Finally the man woke and acknowledged her with a sleepy bow. "I am sorry to wake you, but I really must get in," she apologized profusely before his waving hand.
"At least you are more polite than that tall dark fellow that goes about as if he would the world be damned to the sub-celestial gates of hell." Hermione smiled knowingly and only slightly let the word 'Severus' slide past her lips before nodding politely and giving him the password. "Straight in her heart did mercy come," the poet muttered idly, once the door had closed again, to the now empty hallway before settling back down upon his stacks.
Hermione hurried past the blurred images of the many doors, straight to the one that she knew was harboring a likely miffed Snape. Stopping abruptly in front of that matte black which seemed to absorb what little light the hallway entertained, she checked her watch.
"Oh Merlin, it's…""8:10, which means…"
"I'm late, yes I realized that Severus there's no need to point it out. And yes, I would love to come in," Hermione simpered as she slowly slipped past the stiff frame of the Potion's Master who had, only moments before flung open the door with astonishing quietness and quickness of uptake in her speech. He immediately closed and warded the door once both were inside.
Severus was genuinely amused for once by how accurately he had predicted Hermione's reaction to be to his quarters—usually his predictions were grim and only led to his annoyance once fulfilled. He watched her surreptitiously out of the corner of his eyes as she walked around in what could only be described as a state of complete awe. He noticed the way she absentmindedly removed her outer robe and placed it on the back of one of the wingback chairs by the fire along with a miniature pile of books, all the time entranced by the wall-to-wall built-in book shelves that housed his "extended" collection. She strolled open-mouthed, occasionally tracing her fingers delicately along the spine of book that caught her particular interest, all the time seemingly forgetting that he was even in the room with her. Finally, after a few minutes, she turned to him, her eyes sparkling in anticipation—he remembered that look well, as he had seen it on her face the first day of Potions so many years before. How it pained him to think of the quickness with which he, and his teaching methods, had removed such an eager innocence from her and every other gifted student he had taught.
"I…Gods, I've never seen such a collection of books by one individual." He wanted to laugh out loud at such a comment. She couldn't really be serious—the collection at Snape Manor was ten times larger than this; not at all to the parity of those of the other Old Blood families in the wizarding world. The damn Malfoy's had a library that made the one at Hogwarts look like a foyer.
"Hermione," he questioned honestly, "you're not serious are you? This doesn't even rival the average collections of most of the larger families." He saw suddenly the way blush had slowly slinked into the slight dip of her cheeks, and became conscious of the fact that she had been in earnest. Quickly deciding not to press the subject further, he chose the more obvious topic of conversation. "Hermione, why don't you start on that end of the stacks and work your way through looking for anything that might be of relevance. I'll brew some tea." It was really said as more of a command than a question and he noted bitterly the way his voice always seemed to take on a domineering tone when he was unsure of a situation; Hermione, though, seemed completely un phased by this, setting right off to look through the lower shelves at the far end of the room. Severus set to work on the tea.
As a comfortable silence settled upon the room and the tea pot was content to wait for it's water, Severus began calling a few of the books he suspected might contain clues off of the shelf where he would skim through them and place them at one end of the rather large dining table. By the time the water had boiled and the tea had thoroughly steeped, Hermione already had a large pile of books in her hands and was maneuvering her way to the table, when she passed directly behind Snape. He barely had time to breathe in the soft scent of vanilla as it wafted pass before he noticed her trip and, relying solely on his quick reflexes, he swung around, catching her by the middle as she was about to fall face forward to the ground. The books went flying to the ground, long forgotten as Severus pulled her gently to his body, and her feet. She was so close now that he could feel the heat radiating through his black shirt from her ruddied cheeks.
Suddenly the room was warmer and brighter at the same time—although Snape couldn't begin to fathom why. All he was aware of was her soft curves folded into his arms, and the way her smell was intoxicating his senses, saturating his blood with a scent that he was positive would never come off, no matter how hard he scrubbed. His breathing had become shallow, ragged, and, he noted with no little amount of bewilderment, her's seemed to be the match of his. Slowly he tuned his head downwards to look at her. He barely had enough reserve to catch his breathe when his eyes connected with the golden brown ones staring contentedly up at him. The bewitching flecks of gold were back, but there was something else, something that was completely foreign to Severus, having never seen it in the eyes of anyone he had looked upon. Suddenly regaining his senses, he slowly released his arms from around her—a move that he would curse to hell and back later that night, in the cloaking darkness of his bedroom—and took a small step backwards.
Hermione too, seemed to gain her composure as she moved her eyes to the floor and then laughed a bit. "Thanks. I really am the epitome of grace, huh? That's the second time that's happened today—not counting falling out of my chair in the library," she put in when she saw his raised eyebrow. Shaking her head in good-humored disapproval she added lightly, "At least this time I didn't end up in the infirmary." Severus was suddenly worried. How had she managed to land herself in Poppy's care? He asked her as much without sounding as concerned as he wouldn't allow himself to admit he was.
"Oh it was stupid really. I was carrying some books from the library and tripped on the rug, biting a rather painful gash into my lower lip." Severus examined it briefly—besides looking completely alluring, it also looked completely perfect. Stop it, man! Hermione must have noticed his scrutiny because she continued. "Oh it's fine now, Poppy really is a wonder-worker—it's just lucky that Amadeus found me, I didn't have enough common sense to actually get up myself." Severus visible started at this, completely unable to account for the emotions he was now experiencing. It made him angry somehow—he couldn't explain it, but somehow, he was incomprehensibly angry with her and this man.
Hermione could almost swear that she had seen Snape flinch, quite noticeably, at the mention of the name Amadeus.
"So you met our newest Defense Against Dark Arts teacher?" he asked in a rather strained voice that made her quiver just slightly."Oh, is that what he teaches? You know we sat and talked in the infirmary for over three hours and he never did mention what he taught." It was incredible how she had never even thought about that until now. And this time she was sure she had seen him quake at the mention of how long they had been sitting there.
"Well, it seems that apart from him being a third-rate wizard, he's no manners as well," Severus spoke sardonically.
How dare he!"How dare you! Do you even know him?" she queried astonishedly. She couldn't believe that after his idiotic behavior the previous night, here he was, doing the same damn thing again. As if reading her mind, Severus drew a haggard sigh and took a seat in at the head of the kitchen table, placing his head into his hands.
"Listen Hermione, I don't want to do this every time we come into each other's company, and although I do enjoy a lively game of wit matching on most occasions, tonight I'm really not up to it."
She wasn't sure what exactly compelled her to do it—perhaps it was how tired and alone he looked sitting at the head of a large empty table where she imagined he took most of the meals that she did not see him in the Great Hall at; or maybe it was the fact that she was damn near positive that he had never shown himself quite so vulnerable to anyone except Dumbledore. Either one, the result was still the same as she walked over to his side and sat in the chair to his left, placing her arm lightly on his own. She immediately felt him tense from the contact, pulling away ever-so-slightly before he was sure that she wasn't going to do the same, and relaxed—even allowing her leave to stroke his arm lightly with her thumb. She had no idea how close she was to that blemish which marked the thoughts of his waking and sleeping hours with images of the darkest nightmares.
Cautiously he lifted his head, revealing a pair of eyes that could be so closed, yet so revealing at the same time—even now she wasn't sure whether she was seeing pain or happiness, maybe a mixture of the two. He pulled one of his hands away from his face and, bringing it towards her own still resting upon his forearm, he gently covered it—bringing their skin into a contact that felt so intimate Hermione blushed from the thoughts that invaded her mind. Tingles, there were actual, physical tingles shooting from the top of her hand all the way up her spine—if she concentrated hard enough she could almost feel the charge crossing each individual synapse in her nervous system. His skin was warm…she had expected something cooler, more serpentine—the thought almost made her laugh aloud, and she would have if not for the fear of that one action bringing an end to this glorious feeling pulsating through her being. It had never been like this with Harry.
Harry.Pulled cruelly from her reverie, she released the breath she was unaware had been kept in suspension, and moved enough for him to waver and finally withdraw his hand, allowing the cold air to come crashing mercilessly back down upon the skin. She got up and moved towards the books on the floor, picking them up slowly in order to buy more time with her thoughts. What was happening? One minute she was concentrated solely on Severus and the next she was aware of Harry drifting just off the edge of her current meditations. Oh Merlin, what was she to do?
Suddenly she felt as if she were drowning in memories and emotions that she had thought were long abandoned. Only the voice of Severus pulled her up for air."Pardon? What were you saying?" she asked a bit confusedly, having missed what he said the first time he'd tried to catch her attention. He answered with an almost unnerving degree of equanimity and patience.
"I was saying that since I didn't know Professor Malbaton, perhaps you could enlighten me." How did he manage that? How did he manage to make her fibers stand on end like infant sprouts of grass reaching up for the warmth of the spring sunshine? Having enough sense to regain her wits, her mouth seemed to begin the story perfectly despite the fact that her brain was still stuck back on his 'unnerving equanimity'.
"Well, his name is Amadeus Malbaton…named after the composer of course." Severus interrupted her rather speedily here.
"Muggle-borne I suppose," he sneered in a way different form the ones she remembered in class—completely devoid of its usual acid.
"Yes," she baited teasingly, "And why do you say that as if it was a foregone conclusion." Snape stood up and taking one step to the counter and one step back, placed a cup of tea in front of her at the table. She sat down.
"Simply because," he continued once the tea had been prepared to liking, "only a Muggle would be so presumptuous as to name their child something hideous like 'Amadeus'." Now she really had to laugh—Snape stared at her in mock horror.
"Oh really?" came her choked reply through giggles. "I wouldn't think it nearly as presumptuous as naming your son after a Roman emperor." She caught the smile as it passed his lips—a smile of ill-veiled pride. "And besides," she continued, bringing her knees up to her chin and settling comfortably into the overly large upholstered wooden chairs, "with names like Albus, Cornelius, and Filius running ramped, I hardly see the harm in something like Amadeus." Silence fell over the room for a moment as she absentmindedly traced the diamond pattern of green and silver embroidered onto the chair. Before she could stop the words from coming they did. "Also, it's...nice…to have someone who I can talk to—relate to." She didn't dare look in his eyes for some reason.
His voice was soft and fully interested."Relate how?"
She thought for a long moment, forgetting how to put into the words the feelings that hadn't needed to be spoken with Amadeus.
"Relate to growing up in the Muggle world only to find out at age eleven that everything you'd been taught was wrong." Fortified by the words coming suddenly, she lifted up her eyes to his. They met, and she continued to hold his gaze while she spoke. "You have no idea what that is like—suddenly going from being the smartest, most knowledgeable person at my school, to being someone who knew nothing…I mean absolutely bloody nothing. Sure I was excited, but also scared out of my mind. I'd never met another wizard before in my life. But, I bought the books and studied as hard as I could possibly study—working with this absurdly vain hope that I would, on the first day of school, once again be the best. I wanted so desperately to prove myself," she strained, a few stray tears working slowly down her cheeks as she recalled that desperate child. "I wanted to prove myself in anyway that I could, but from the moment I stepped through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ , I was constantly reminded that nothing I did was good enough. And come to find out, I was now a minority—something that I had, honestly, never been faced with in Muggle life. All of the sudden I knew what it was like to be hated simply for the way I was born—something I had no control over. I needed so terribly for someone to reach out to and commiserate with, but there was no one. No one…until Harry and Ron." The words were barely choked out as she recalled the tacit forming of friendship between the trio after the incident with the troll on Halloween. Severus looked as if he was going to stop her, but she pressed on, needing to verbalize these feelings that she had kept inside for so long. "For the first time I knew what it was like to be accepted and loved—they were all the friends I needed and while I knew that it was probably more a friendship of convenience of situation, they were still there for me. However, as great a friend as Harry and Ron were, they still couldn't relate to the feelings I was experiencing. Ron had grown up a wizard, and Harry, while he had grown up a Muggle, was treated so badly that he was desperate for any change."
Hermione saw a severe question flicker through Snape's eyes and almost couldn't believe what it had revealed. Oh holy Circe, he doesn't know! She would have laughed if it wasn't so pitiably ironic.
"Jesus, Severus you never knew did you?" His eyes clearly said that he didn't even if his face revealed nothing. "I can't believe that all that torturing over how famous he was, and how easy everything was for him, and you, the King of Irony Reveling, didn't even know the immense paradox in your own words." Impatience was written clearly on his face, and Hermione knew that if she didn't tell him soon, she would see a side of Snape that she hadn't known since the darkest days of Hogwarts. "Severus…he was abused." He clearly looked unimpressed.
"In what way? Did the Muggles not give him the respect he deserved as the Boy Who Saved All Mankind?"
"Not even close," she muttered incredulously. "He was forced to live in a small cupboard under the stairs of his house until he was eleven. The Dursely's, his Aunt and Uncle, knew about Lily and that she was a witch, so anytime as a child, Harry showed normal preliminary signs of magic, he would be beaten and forced into the cupboard. They would lock him in there for weeks and months at a time, sometimes feeding him regularly, sometimes not. All of his summer assignments had to be done in the middle of the light by flashlight—it's a sort of electric candle. This went on for years and while they became more fearful of him, they also became angrier. Bound by the Underage Use of Magic laws, Harry had no way to fight back—his Uncle would constantly beat him, taking all his rage on Harry. I remember him coming to visit Ron and I with deep purple bruises all over his body—sometimes lasting for weeks."
Snape, for the first time in all the years that she had been acquainted with him, looked truly horrified, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"I…I never knew. Albus told me that he was mistreated, but I had no idea as to what extent." His voice was noticeably shaking, and he couldn't seem to stop his right hand from quivering a bit.
"Well," she answered quietly, "now you know." The room had lapsed into another uncomfortable silence, only broken occasionally by the noise of Severus sipping chastely at his tea—Hermione once again, could not bring herself to look into his eyes. When she finally mounted the courage, she found them hollow and searching—he looked suddenly so tired. She spoke quietly so as not to startle him, "Perhaps I should go now, you look tired."
He lifted his head in a motion of delayed reaction and after studying her face for a moment, nodded his head in agreement. She got up and slowly made her way to the door, collecting the pile of books at the end of the table. "Do you mind if I take these with me, to look over a bit. I promise not to completely ruin them." He cracked a small smile—precisely what she had been aiming for—and moved to the door. On his way to see her out, Severus scooped up her cloak and mini-pile of books.
"Here you are," he spoke quietly before handing the things over to her. For just a millisecond, their hands touched and she could swear that the jolt that passed through her body, had been present in him too. Giving him one last smile, she exited the room, her whispered 'thank you' hanging gently in the air along with her scent.
A/N: Wow, I really wasn't expecting this chapter to be so long, but Hermione's little speech about Harry came out of nowhere and she just wouldn't shut up. I'm sorry if the ending is kind of lame, but it's midnight and the day has been long—please forgive, the next chapter will be written under the influence of a good night's rest and a strong cup of tea…hopefully! Hope you enjoyed, spanks a million!