Eek! Reviews!
Wowza! I never thought people would respond already! I am very grateful to everyone who replied. Just an FYI, I have emailed Resmiranda to tell her about this story, but she has yet to reply! I almost decided to wait until she did, but I figured that you all wouldn't want to wait for too long! So here is the next chapter. I regret to inform you all that I am going on a camping extravaganza (!!!what a word!!!) next week so I will not have the chance to post any updates until at least the Monday after next. I hopefully will have a few extra moments to write down a bit in my notebook, maybe while I'm canoeing, so expect a little woodsy stuff in the next chapter. I also predict that the beauty of Mother Nature will inspire me to write some original prose to include as well. Cross your fingers.
Again, I would love to have a BETA reader, and a few people to discuss possible plot lines with, so if you have a spare moment e-mail me at becca52@pacbell.net .
Aries: How am I supposed to know? I'm just the writer… but perhaps…
Hermione woke up lying on the stone floor of her office, with a smile still on her face. She sat up stiffly adjusting her cricked neck, and peeled off the paper that had plastered itself to her cheek as she slept on it last night. Slowly she stood and surveyed the damage she had done the night before in her excitement. Papers strewn about the floor, bottles tipped on shelves. Shifting slightly she turned to the cauldron still levitating to the side of her desk, the fire underneath long burned out. With a wave of her wand the cauldron lowered itself to the floor and was magically emptied of the useless potion inside. With a another flick of the wand Hermione's personal belongings began to fly from her desk. Small picture frames and enchanted knickknacks piled carefully into the deep hollow of the empty cauldron. Going over to her books and potion ingredients, she cast a reducing charm with allowed them all to magically fit into the cauldron, and another featherweight charm allowed her to lift the cauldron without throwing out her back. She then left the barren room , but not before taking the stack of papers on her desk carefully in hand.
Walking down the hall of the decrepit University building, Hermione listened as the floorboards beneath her squeaked and creaked with her every step. The building in which her office was situated had once been an old library, hence the readily available shelves and cabinets. It was now used by the University, as an office building, for their more promising and valuable students. Hermione had earned her place here by composing a revolutionary theoretic essay, on the ethics of the transfiguration of impercipient objects into sentient beings, for which she had won the Idealistic Wizard of the Year Award. She smiled as she remembered the animated, if slightly confusing, letter that Professor McGonagall had wrote to her at hearing of the award. Her excitement had transferred into the letter and caused the words on the parchment to shiver and shift from side to side as Hermione tried to read them.
The University refused to fund her studies on transfiguratory or potion solutions for incurable blindness, but they didn't hesitate to offer her an office in the building. Hermione wasn't stupid enough to believe this was an act of appreciation or kindness from the higher authorities. She knew it was only so that if she succeeded, they could claim some sort of hand in her success.
Hermione snorted.
"Some hand this is, putting me up in an old rundown office surrounded by hoards of prats." She thought in a fond tone.
Most people who worked in adjacent offices to hers were indescribably rude from the first day, and she had no doubt that they mocked her purpose behind her back. They often complained about the broken-down old building in which they worked, about how the floor squeaked, and the windows never fully closed, letting in icy wind and rain without mercy. It was true that the building was drafty, creaky, and temperamental, but to Hermione it had a moldy sort of charm that appealed to her. The halls and rooms had a personality, which in her opinion was much better than a sterile laboratory any day. She would miss this building. Continuing down the hall and down a shady staircase she entered the main hall on the ground floor of the old library building. This was the room where the other students met to eat once of twice a week, and get away from their work, when they could bear to tear themselves away. Hermione could never remember coming down here for any reason, aside from to walk through on her way to and from her office.
As she made her way to the front door she heard whispered voices from the figures gathered around the fireplace on an overstuffed split pea green covered couch, and sprawled on the moth-eaten oriental rug. She heard a voice call out to her from the group, a male's, high and teasing.
"So you've finally been kicked out Hermione? I was wondering when the professors would realize that your project was useless. Been here a year, you have, and what have you to show for it."
Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to face the sniggering group, her face still calm. Nothing could fluster her now.
"Come to think of it," the man continued in a mock-serious tone, his face contorted in false concern, "maybe you just gave up. I guess you must have realized what a hopeless cause yours was, huh Granger? Must've finally figured out that nobody cares about the odd blind wizard out there. How many are there anyway, ten or eleven? Big change in the world you're making."
Brainless guffawing echoed from all around him but died down as Hermione drew out her wand and advanced towards them, smiling a small smile. She began to speak.
"Oh Kabuo, how you are gravely correct. My poor, but successful, project will probably have little impact on the wizarding community as a whole."
The jaws of everyone listening dropped in surprise at the revelation that Hermione's project had been successful and a few noses wrinkled as Hermione got closer. Hermione made a mental note to wash her hair before she headed to the dean's office. Satisfied but not finished, Hermione continued.
"Of course, at least I earned my office. I earned the right to do what I please with my time instead of taking further classes. But you Kabuo, you paid your way into the University and you know it. How is your project coming along? What was it again? Inventing a charm to convince people your useful to anyone? I hope it goes well, because you're going to need it when you enter the real world. Good luck!"
With this she turned with her cauldron and strode out the door, and onto the mushy leaf-covered grass towards the Administration building. Not wanting to take any more time then needed, she cleaned her hair magically. She would have to inform her subject dean of her success, and tell him of her plans to leave as soon as possible.
The next night, in a room filled with whizzing contraptions, a very frayed hat, a large red bird, and many books, a very startled Dumbledore was roused from his deep contemplation by a shuffling, muffled noise coming from his closet, into which had flown a very ruffled and confused owl. Chuckling amusedly Dumbledore reached in one wizened hand and pulled the bedraggled creature from it's tangled web of cloaks. Holding it and examining it with both hands, Dumbledore chuckled again.
"Blown in by the wind, aye little fellow? I dare suppose you didn't mean to savage my cloaks?"
The owl blinked one of his eyes, clearly dazed. Dumbledore reached the owl's leg and gently untied the attached letter, which was stamped with the letters HG. With a great smile and twinkling eyes, Dumbledore once again took a seat at his desk and broke the wax seal, unraveling the parchment, simultaneously plopping the owl on a vacant chair. Dumbledore glanced at the letter, reached into a drawer and removed spectacles, which he perched on his nose, and then looked at the letter again.
"Ah, Hermione Granger. I haven't the privilege of hearing from the dear girl since… It must have been at least last December at Christmas." He spoke this pointedly to the owl propped up in it's own chair. "I remember it well. I had just returned from a very exciting Yule Ball. I must say it was one of my best! The icicles were beautiful as usual of course. Professor McGonagall had just transfigured a very festive…"
Dumbledore was interrupted by a weak hoot, which clearly was tinged with the owl equivalent of impatience.
"Oh yes! The letter!" exclaimed Dumbledore, finally settling down to finish what he had begun.
Dearest Professor Dumbledore,
I hope my letter finds you well. I apologize for not writing to you sooner. I believe the last time I heard from you was in July. Again I apologize for not writing. Since I received my award, I fear I have been graced with a work ethic of a house-elf, never tiring and never stopping. I have basically been living in my office for the last few months. I know that you are probably wondering what I have been doing for so long and that is an answer requiring a story, and a long one at that. Please allow me to abridge it until we can meet face to face. I had planned to speak with you at Ron Weasley's wedding, I have no doubt that you were invited, but urgent circumstances have arisen. I plan on coming to Hogwarts at your first available convenience, so hopefully you will not have to wait for long.
For the past year I have been granted permission by the University to work on a personal project out of my office, bequeathed to me as a result of the award. This year I have not attended classes, instead devoting myself wholeheartedly to my work. My purpose. Using advanced forms of transfiguration and aided by potions, I have been researching cures for Professor Snape's form of blindness. Unfortunately my efforts were fruitless, due to lack of funding from the University, and lack of assistance. Not many thought it wise to devote valuable time to such an impossible and unimportant cause.
I worked as if possessed. I admit it. It became an obsession to the point that I sometimes forgot to eat and sleep. I needed to prove that my ideas were possible, if not to them, then to myself. I was beginning to lose hope, until yesterday. Yesterday I had been working at my desk. It had been late and I hadn't lain down for many hours. I had sensed that I was beginning to fall prey to weariness, but I knew I couldn't quit then. I felt like I was nearing a breakthrough. I could almost touch it with the tips of my fingers, and then it happened. It seemed as if it was almost by chance. I had been going about my combinations all-wrong, and in my exhausted stupor I had slightly miswrote one of my original formulas. It worked. I checked it over numerous times. I must have covered at least three feet of parchment in checking it. It was correct. It had to work. Professor, I believe I have found a cure for Professor Snape's blindness.
At this professor Dumbledore adjusted his glances once more and reread the letter. Satisfied that his eyes had not betrayed him, her continued, however distracted, to read the remainder of the letter.
Please do not inform the professor of this. I would rather be the one to tell him. If possible, please send the first possible date of my arrival, but do not tell Professor Snape that I am to come. I feel like surprising him.
Professor, I am so happy. I always knew I could find a way for him to see again. I always hoped. I now realize that the wind outside is picking up and I fear that Arrow might not make it to you as fast as I'd hoped. But it would probably take longer if I was to wait for the storm to die down, so I'll send it tonight. I entrust that he will be exhausted by the time he arrives, but I know that Hagrid will probably be up to taking care of him for me. Thank you for everything Professor.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
Stunned, Dumbledore sat for a few minutes, deep in thought, before once again being roused by a soft hooting coming from the chair beside him.
"Ah, Arrow is it? Yes I'm sure, as Ms. Granger suspected; Hagrid will be delighted to meet you. "
With a final look at the letter, Dumbledore gathered up Arrow in his arms and made his way to Hagrid's hut. He knew that Hermione's discovery would not only change Severus's life, but her own, forever. He wasn't sure how he felt. One part of him was delighted at Hermione's success, but another part wondered at what price it would come.
Hermione arrived at Hogwarts in midday. She had received the letter from Dumbledore instructing her to come at her earliest convenience. She had packed her things within two days, and ended up arriving only three days after the night she wrote Dumbledore. She figured that classes must have been going on. If she was correct, and if the times hadn't changed since she had been here, the last class before lunch would be ending within the next half-hour. Hurriedly she levitated her trunk and made her way across the ground towards the entrance to the Great Hall.
She entered the castle to find the hallways deserted, as she suspected, everyone in the castle was in class. She continued into the hall, turning to go down a stairwell which led to the dungeons. She knew she should have first visited Dumbledore, but her anticipation at finally seeing Professor Snape after not seeing him for so long made the blood in her veins carbonate with delicious hysteria. Her heart warmed every time she thought of her last time with Snape in his garden, the way his heart had opened up, the way he had held her hand. She couldn't bear to wait another moment. She hurried down to the old potion's classroom, which she knew was now converted into a rune chamber. Standing outside and waiting for the class to end, Hermione wondered if any of the other teachers knew of her coming. She doubted it, because if she knew the teachers of Hogwarts, the secret would never stay a secret for long. Listening closely, she heard the silky voice of Snape floating through the cracks in the door. She knew his tone well, and she could see in her mind's eye the students inside, cowering at their desks.
"Once again I remind you that the study of Runes is not for the incompetent. Runes are extremely complex and one can have as many as two dozen meanings in different situations. Mr. Pittlebish! Can you repeat what I just told the class in detail please? No? I thought not. That will be twenty points from Gryffindor, and if I have to remind you again to pay attention in class it will… No, I do not care if your wand is broken. Why is your wand out in class at all? I don't recall the need for foolish wand waving in the study of Runes! Five more points from Gryffindor for your incompetence, and if I need to speak to you again, it will be a detention."
Hermione smirked at Snape's predictable and hardly endearing nature. It was good to know that he hadn't changed. She stood back against the wall as she heard the unmistakable sounds of students rising from their seats and a moment later watched as the door to the class opened and students began to stream out. Too preoccupied with their own relief at being free of Snape's class, and their hunger to get to the Great Hall for lunch, they didn't take notice of the strange, pale, bushy-haired young woman standing in the hallway with a trunk.
Hermione's breath caught in her chest as she looked through the open door into the classroom. Standing at his desk, looking as mean and belligerent as ever was Snape. Hermione's urge to run to him immediately wash squished at the shock of finally seeing him, so instead she just stood, mouth slightly open, still not breathing. Her hands had her robes in an iron-like vise. Snape was wearing his usual black robes, his hair was still long and silky black, but Hermione noticed that he was finally wearing the dark glasses Hermione had given him.
"It took him long enough." Hermione thought to herself in disbelief. She thought he would never tire of his bandages.
Snape stood at his desk as the last of his students filed out of the dungeon classroom. He knew it was time for lunch, and he tested the air with a deep breath. He predicted sandwiches.
"I wonder if the house-elves are losing their touch. I hope they pick up on their cooking soon, seeing as I've had enough sandwiches to last me the rest of the school year." Snape thought, grimacing to the empty room. "Perhaps an apple will have to do," Snape picked up his cane and made his way out of the room.
"or maybe a…"
Snape stopped dead just outside the doorway and took at shallow breath through his nose.
"mango."
Standing still and quiet, he heard quick, shallow breaths coming from across the hall. He heard a small scrape of cloak against stone, and realized that whoever was there was leaning against the wall. He took another breath and a sudden realization struck him. His stomach leapt into his throat.
He spoke.
"Miss Granger."
With a rustle of a cloak and the sound of timid footsteps Snape tensed, wondering if he had spoken too soon.
The person stopped directly in front of him, and took his hand; wrapping their thin, warm, delicate fingers around his. Snape relaxed.
"Hello Professor Snape."