Warming the Dungeons,
"Weil Rosen stets bei Dornen sein." (Mozart, Die Zauberflöte)
A Thursday evening in the Gryffindor tower.
Hermione was stepping down the stairs to the Common Room, her head high, eyeing her surrounding with self-confidence, as if she had just taken an important decision. Which, indeed, she had. As she reached the floor of the round space, she scanned it thoroughly, until she spotted what she apparently had been looking for, at one of the tables, near the fireplace.
She conjured a chair as she walked toward it, and sat there, with Harry and Ron. For a while, she just listened to them, as they talked:
"You know, Harry, I think they have to protect us, if they want Hogwarts to go on being a respected school. They can't allow us to fight with them.»
"And they can't forbid it, anyway." Harry countered, self-confident, as if announcing an evidence.
Ron grinned feebly and stared at the fire.
"Well, that's what they just did, isn't it?» he said in an unconvinced tone.
"Oh, did they?" answered a determined-sounding Harry. "But they won't stay here to threaten us about House Points tomorrow, will they? They won't do anything against all of us coming and fighting at their side?"
"I suppose they won't" Ron sighed heavily. "But, Harry.» He had a desperate inflexion in his voice that made Hermione suspect that precise conversation had, for the thousandth time in some days, already been discussed for a while when she arrived. "You know you're special, I mean. It's not anything, it's Voldemort and his bastards of followers who'll come and attack that school of ours tomorrow, and. Well you know he wants you. You can't just come out and say 'Hello'. You have to hide. You just have to."
"But I can't either stay here in a high secure zone while all of you 7th years and probably some younger students risk their skins for me. It's my fault in the first place if we have to fight. And I wouldn't pop up and say Hello, as you so nicely put it! I just refuse to let you all die for me"
"No, of course. It has to be the other way round, hasn't it?" Ron articulated through gritted teeth.
"Ron!" Harry gave him an angry look, sighed, and then his face relaxed. "You said that on purpose, didn't you? You want me to feel like I don't have to play hero. But you know I don't. I'd only feel so bad, staying in and waiting for you to finish them or die. You'll be out there, won't you?"
Ron nodded, and suddenly stood up. "Excuse me, I have to go. somewhere.»
Harry threw his retreating back a strange quizzical glance.
"He's crying." Hermione answered his unasked question. "Doesn't want us to see the tears." She reflected. "And it's not your fault anyway, it's not your fault if they're all so mean and despising and.»
They sat in silence for some time. Then Hermione took a heavy breath and opened her mouth.
"Let it be, Hermione. I know you agree with him." Harry shuddered. "And I know you're right, but. I just can't assure you that I'll be able to stay passive tomorrow."
Hermione smiled, a little surprised. well, she grimaced as much of a smile as she was able to that evening. "No, it's not what I was about to say. Although you're right." She hesitated. "Just try to stay in as long as you can. After all we could have avoided that fight if we had given you to them, so don't sacrifice stupidly, will y-" She stopped, her voice muffled with repressed tears, and looked away.
When she looked at Harry again, he was staring in the fire, beside him. She took a shuddering and supposedly calming breath, and found her voice again.
"In fact, I wanted to speak about Snape."
"Snape?" He arched an eyebrow, which only reminded Hermione of a very Snape- like expression, indeed.
"Yes."
"Well, I suppose I was a bit self-centred indeed, to think I was the most important subject right now."
"That's not what I meant"
She took Harry's hand.
"No, I know. That's just what I notice. He is enduring far more than I have and am."
"Hum, indeed that's possible." She chased the topic with a wave of her wand- hand. "What I wanted to say, though, was that, after. Well, after Dumbledore talked to us all, you know.»
"Yes, after he told the whole school about his role as a spy. I see your point he didn't seem to feel too good about that. All the potential future Death Eaters do seem to be gone by now, though. Unless we misjudged our 'good surprises' and one of them could be. But no.»
"I don't think so either" she comforted him hastily. "Draco is truly on our side."
"Yeah.» He locked his eyes with hers. "So, what?"
"Well, I thought. I thought he deserved a bit of encouragement and I could go to him and express the. err. admiration and. thankful thoughts of the whole school." She had spoken that really hurriedly, and only calmed herself then, to say much more clearly: "And I wanted your opinion about that."
Harry stared at her silently, for a few minutes, seemingly ages. "Well" He finally uttered. "I can't see why not." The corner of his mouth tended in a half-smile of understanding. "The poor man has suffered a lot. Of course he deserve that. Do you want me to come?"
Hermione felt very relieved. "Thanks Harry, really. I wasn't that sure, you know. if I was the only one to think that. But then, if even you agree, after what he put you through.»
"Hermione," he interrupted. "What he did to me wasn't anything. I mean, it was only a teacher hatefully bullying. And I was, what, eleven? And I didn't understand. I don't pretend it was an easy time, but now it's the war. It would be childish from me to still hold that grudge, wouldn't it?" He sighed. "I really wish I was back in those time, with him spitting insults to me. and you dragging us to the library, you know, and hurrying us about revision and homework-plans. After all, the NEWTS would be in a few weeks, wouldn't they?"
"Yeah.» she answered with the same dreamy face. "But about you coming, I don't think I need it. You've got thinking to do, and I. Well. It's my idea, and I'll do it."
He gave her an appreciating look. "Good luck then" he added.
"Yes", she uttered, feinting to be really afraid. or perhaps it wasn't that much feinted.
Harry patted her hand before letting her go, and she stood up. She straightened her school robes and shuddered a bit, involuntarily. So much for the feinted fear.
As she was about to turn on her heels, she heard "Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"You'll be out there, tomorrow, won't you?"
She hesitated. "Well. To tell you the truth, yes, I suppose I will."
He nodded.
"But then" she added "I'm not you. you know. Harry Potter." She emphasised with a tentative smile.
"You're still very exposed, Hermione. Muggle born. And one of my best friends.» He looked up under a lock of hair. "You'll have to be careful, huh?"
"I will Harry, I will."
And she went to the portrait hole.
Later that evening, in the Dungeons.
Hermione was walking while analysing the Marauders' Map in her hands. She hadn't come here just after her conversation with Harry, because a walk really had been in order to calm her storming brain. Not to say it was serene right then, but still. She had tried. She intended not to step too noisily, although she had half a mind that the deafening thundering of her heart would give her away, anyway. God that was still Snape, after all. moody, towering, impressive Snape.
According to the magical object guiding her, she was now as near from Snape as she could be. Only a wall separated her from what she supposed were his private chambers, since it wasn't his office, nor of course the potion classroom. A thick stain wall, though. chilly, typical of the dungeon.
She hesitated. Well, she seemed quite lost anyway, so she had better meet the Potion Master, now, or she would have to walk for an eternity through the intricacy indicated by the map. She was sure he knew a passageway for her. if he didn't throw her out before, she thought pointedly. Summoning all her courage, she remembered why she had come, took her wand out to scan the wall, and. didn't find any door. Oh, Merlin's hat!
He was still pacing on her Map, so she came in front of the place where he would undoubtedly pass, tapped the wall to let it sound-permeable, waited for him to be just in the right place, took a great breath, steadied herself. did it again because it wouldn't work, resisted the impulse to hit her head against the wall, although it may have the desired effect anyway, shut down her defence system's protestations, and knocked.
Then she deftly closed the map and put the blanked piece of parchment in one of her pockets. And waited, again, unsure. For a moment she thought he would appear out of thin air. Then she looked around her and saw nothing. Maybe he hadn't heard. Or he didn't think it was someone, after all there w.
"Miss Granger."
All Right, here he was. The dark door had been camouflaged about ten feet to her left. She had scanned that part of the wall, though. So it had to be a strong hiding charm.
"May you be so nice and tell me what the hell you're doing here at this hour, please?"
'Calm down, calm down.' she thought. "Well", she spoke up. "To tell you the truth." She would have sworn he was biting back a 'You'd better'. Lucky he was biting it back, then. "I was coming to see you and err. didn't find the door."
"Which I'm very grateful for, since it's the purpose of doors pretending to be walls. So, your brain was very frustrated about that failure and you found another way to catch my attention. How very characteristic of you." She was looking at him while he spoke. He wasn't in robes, only in trousers and shirt, but that didn't make him look less dreadful: still that worn out face, having endured everything, ready to die was all that came to her mind to describe it. She felt a wave of compassion.
"However, and although I wonder how on earth you found the location of my quarters, I don't have time for your academic questions, not tonight Miss Granger. And so I'll ask you to go back where you want, I won't even question the means you employed to come to me or the hour it is, just. Go away."
His words weren't surprising, but his tone suggested weariness in so much quantities that she wouldn't have been any more shocked if he had added a authentic 'please'.
However, she managed to walk toward him and answer before he shut the door.
"That's not why I'm here Professor. It's not about work or potions."
This time he did seem a bit surprised, and truly looked at her, directly, for the first time.
"Isn't it?"
He seemed to make up his mind and stepped back, to let her enter. And so she did. "I suppose," he added "that I may as well listen to you, as it seem it could be the last evening that I can do so."
Refusing to process the implied meaning of it, she searched for the sofa, without looking at anything else in the room, and headed to it. Snape stared at her while she sat, his expression giving away the sarcasm he could have pronounced, but stayed silent. When she was sat, he took his wand out, pointed it at her, and conjured a cup of tea between her twitching hands.
"So, Miss Granger, I'm listening." He said, still leaning on the wall and very tall and dark to her.
"Well." She breathed. 'Yeah, breathing is a good idea' she heard her imagination supply to the comment he apparently wasn't in the mood to make this evening. "I came to tell you something." 'Really?' the annoying voice went on. "I. Err." She had to make that voice quit, it was highly disturbing. And Snape's lack of anything mean was strange, to say the least.
"All right, let's try it again" she uttered, and he kept his eyes upon her.
"The students of that school have to express their gratitude and admiration for you" she pronounced, not looking at him. "And I really wanted you to know, although I'm conscious that it's not much, that we're all at your side. And. We will help you, as much as we can, tomorrow, consigns or not. We want this school to survive as much as you, and. we want you to survive." She stopped and hesitated to look up. "Oh, and some of us also wanted to tell you how much we're worried about you. you. well you don't look, err. healthy and.»
"And some of you actually noticed?" he interrupted, forcing her to finally level her eyes.
"Yes, definitely." She said, her eyes in his. "You've been our teacher for some years, and.»
"And I've been bitter enough to last you a lifetime so you don't need me anymore, do you?" She tried to interrupt but he went on. "How very nice from the Head Girl to make herself spokeswoman of a human care, and how Gryffindor and pitiful of you to invent that care in the first place. But thanks, I can live without your imaginary compassion."
"Professor, I'm. Well I'm sincere." She tried to think a way of making him believe her, and let down his damn isolating wall of acrimony and bitterness. Somehow it now seemed the most important thing to do. She had come for it and would find a way.
"Please, Professor, just believe me when I tell you I didn't even think about my Head Girl err. duties, when I decided of coming here."
She tried to catch his eyes. And failed miserably while he toyed with his wand and took a good long detached look at the floor.
"I mean. I came because I'm worried about you. Me, personally, and I don't fake it."
He still didn't react.
"You look awful, and I feel bad for you."
Nothing.
"Professor you didn't even use your well-known biting comments tonight. And that's worrying me sick."
"Miss Granger" he finally said, not looking at her. "That I do look awful, as you put it, or even disgusting, as I've already heard, isn't really new, is it?"
"You know that's not what I meant!" she revolted.
"If you say so, whatever. You're right however for the sarcasm. And I figured I would try it since it's perhaps my last night to live. But, believe me, I'm not worth the worry of one of Harry Potter's best friends. Go and cheer him up, he certainly needs it; I'm a grown man, I don't."
"That's a lie." She said, trying to look calm while constantly wondering if that was too much. Apparently not, since he didn't explode, only watched her expectantly.
"What" he mocked "Am I not a grown man?"
She nearly smiled. "I never knew grown men were to cope alone with everything. To the point, no, the lie is that you don't need anybody."
"You were looking for my sarcasm. Then. let me say I didn't use the word 'anybody'; I only told you I didn't need you."
Her eyes narrowed for a nanosecond and it was gone. She wouldn't let him chase her out that way. She took her wand slowly, aimed calmly and conjured a cup of tea for him. The same one he had sent her, only a little stronger, perhaps. "Come and sit," she said.
He seemed amused, but pocketed his wand, stood up from the wall, and walked to the armchair in front of her. Before he had the time to sit, though, she convinced herself to ignore his face, clearly betraying that he only waited to explain her she had no business with him, and repeated, "Come here," and patted the place beside her, as if it was the most normal place to suggest.
He slowed his pace and she admonished herself. That was too much, she shouldn't have. but then he stepped up and sat beside her, on the sofa. She turned to face him, to be sure she wasn't falling asleep and imagining things, but no. He was really there. 'Good, nearing the limit, scaringly so, but clever move.' She thought.
She had forgotten his declarations about not needing her. Fortunately so.
He let the silence settle, sipping distractedly his tea.
"Professor?" she called.
"Miss Granger."
"You believe me, don't you? We do care about you."
Silence.
"Who's we?" he finally consented to ask.
"Oh. well. It's about everybody in the school, but. If you want to know, I discussed it more specifically with Harry."
He turned his head and some surprise wasn't dissimulated in his expression.
"No, really." She assured him.
"Good.» He admitted. "Then I thank you."
This time she felt surprise settle over her whole face.
"No, really." He mocked.
Hey, that was more teasing than his usual sharpness. Did the man really think he would die the next day, or what else could make him act gently? Well, gently considering what his usual manners were, anyway.
He was plunging again in the swirls of his tea, and she came nearer, without him to notice. Well, perhaps she didn't even notice herself, it was really more of an impulse, or she wouldn't have dared anyway. And she kissed his cheek.
He started in surprise and she was sure he nearly let his tea slip.
For a moment, she thought he was fighting for words. But then, she realised he wouldn't say anything. He tried to ignore what she had just done the best he could.
So she took unfairly profit of it and of the still nearness, and hugged him. She felt him tense, but wouldn't let go. Her arms were tight around him, nearly painfully so since he wouldn't lean against her. She felt lots of different emotion pass through her for the man in her arms, not able to be anything but an inanimate rock against her. She did know what it was to refuse human contact, and lock oneself in intellectual. well, thorough analysis wasn't the most immediate problem, anyway. She stared at the wall.
"You know," she said, playing on his register " I don't think that if you or me die tomorrow, it will matter much to people, that I embraced you tonight."
He closed his eyes, slowly. Almost pleadingly. But what for?
"And if I survive, I promise I won't tell anyway."
At that he opened them again and apparently nearly look at her, but caught himself in time. However, he was still shocked, as if paralysed. She really wondered what to do and finally admitted she would have to let go of him.
And then it happened. He just relaxed.
He leaned against her and breathed freely again. She took the cup from his hand, deposited it delicately on the floor, for lack of a table she could have spotted near. Well, maybe if she had looked next to her she would have found it. But it was hardly the central subject of her attention as she took him against her chest and petted his head, at first hesitantly.
She smiled at the idea that she should be admonishing herself about something along the line of "Oh, God, I'm petting Snape's hair, for God's sake!" But she didn't. It felt good to have him alive beside her, confident enough to let his head on her, under her hand. And soaking her clothes. wait a minute, soaking? Were that tears? Oh God. And think The Boy Who Lived had offered to come with her. One of the two would have died of a nervous attack in that case. Or most probably nothing would have happened.
At that very instant, she heard a whisper. "Thanks," it said.
Oh God. Was that reality, then?
***
"Weil Rosen stets bei Dornen sein." (Mozart, Die Zauberflöte)
A Thursday evening in the Gryffindor tower.
Hermione was stepping down the stairs to the Common Room, her head high, eyeing her surrounding with self-confidence, as if she had just taken an important decision. Which, indeed, she had. As she reached the floor of the round space, she scanned it thoroughly, until she spotted what she apparently had been looking for, at one of the tables, near the fireplace.
She conjured a chair as she walked toward it, and sat there, with Harry and Ron. For a while, she just listened to them, as they talked:
"You know, Harry, I think they have to protect us, if they want Hogwarts to go on being a respected school. They can't allow us to fight with them.»
"And they can't forbid it, anyway." Harry countered, self-confident, as if announcing an evidence.
Ron grinned feebly and stared at the fire.
"Well, that's what they just did, isn't it?» he said in an unconvinced tone.
"Oh, did they?" answered a determined-sounding Harry. "But they won't stay here to threaten us about House Points tomorrow, will they? They won't do anything against all of us coming and fighting at their side?"
"I suppose they won't" Ron sighed heavily. "But, Harry.» He had a desperate inflexion in his voice that made Hermione suspect that precise conversation had, for the thousandth time in some days, already been discussed for a while when she arrived. "You know you're special, I mean. It's not anything, it's Voldemort and his bastards of followers who'll come and attack that school of ours tomorrow, and. Well you know he wants you. You can't just come out and say 'Hello'. You have to hide. You just have to."
"But I can't either stay here in a high secure zone while all of you 7th years and probably some younger students risk their skins for me. It's my fault in the first place if we have to fight. And I wouldn't pop up and say Hello, as you so nicely put it! I just refuse to let you all die for me"
"No, of course. It has to be the other way round, hasn't it?" Ron articulated through gritted teeth.
"Ron!" Harry gave him an angry look, sighed, and then his face relaxed. "You said that on purpose, didn't you? You want me to feel like I don't have to play hero. But you know I don't. I'd only feel so bad, staying in and waiting for you to finish them or die. You'll be out there, won't you?"
Ron nodded, and suddenly stood up. "Excuse me, I have to go. somewhere.»
Harry threw his retreating back a strange quizzical glance.
"He's crying." Hermione answered his unasked question. "Doesn't want us to see the tears." She reflected. "And it's not your fault anyway, it's not your fault if they're all so mean and despising and.»
They sat in silence for some time. Then Hermione took a heavy breath and opened her mouth.
"Let it be, Hermione. I know you agree with him." Harry shuddered. "And I know you're right, but. I just can't assure you that I'll be able to stay passive tomorrow."
Hermione smiled, a little surprised. well, she grimaced as much of a smile as she was able to that evening. "No, it's not what I was about to say. Although you're right." She hesitated. "Just try to stay in as long as you can. After all we could have avoided that fight if we had given you to them, so don't sacrifice stupidly, will y-" She stopped, her voice muffled with repressed tears, and looked away.
When she looked at Harry again, he was staring in the fire, beside him. She took a shuddering and supposedly calming breath, and found her voice again.
"In fact, I wanted to speak about Snape."
"Snape?" He arched an eyebrow, which only reminded Hermione of a very Snape- like expression, indeed.
"Yes."
"Well, I suppose I was a bit self-centred indeed, to think I was the most important subject right now."
"That's not what I meant"
She took Harry's hand.
"No, I know. That's just what I notice. He is enduring far more than I have and am."
"Hum, indeed that's possible." She chased the topic with a wave of her wand- hand. "What I wanted to say, though, was that, after. Well, after Dumbledore talked to us all, you know.»
"Yes, after he told the whole school about his role as a spy. I see your point he didn't seem to feel too good about that. All the potential future Death Eaters do seem to be gone by now, though. Unless we misjudged our 'good surprises' and one of them could be. But no.»
"I don't think so either" she comforted him hastily. "Draco is truly on our side."
"Yeah.» He locked his eyes with hers. "So, what?"
"Well, I thought. I thought he deserved a bit of encouragement and I could go to him and express the. err. admiration and. thankful thoughts of the whole school." She had spoken that really hurriedly, and only calmed herself then, to say much more clearly: "And I wanted your opinion about that."
Harry stared at her silently, for a few minutes, seemingly ages. "Well" He finally uttered. "I can't see why not." The corner of his mouth tended in a half-smile of understanding. "The poor man has suffered a lot. Of course he deserve that. Do you want me to come?"
Hermione felt very relieved. "Thanks Harry, really. I wasn't that sure, you know. if I was the only one to think that. But then, if even you agree, after what he put you through.»
"Hermione," he interrupted. "What he did to me wasn't anything. I mean, it was only a teacher hatefully bullying. And I was, what, eleven? And I didn't understand. I don't pretend it was an easy time, but now it's the war. It would be childish from me to still hold that grudge, wouldn't it?" He sighed. "I really wish I was back in those time, with him spitting insults to me. and you dragging us to the library, you know, and hurrying us about revision and homework-plans. After all, the NEWTS would be in a few weeks, wouldn't they?"
"Yeah.» she answered with the same dreamy face. "But about you coming, I don't think I need it. You've got thinking to do, and I. Well. It's my idea, and I'll do it."
He gave her an appreciating look. "Good luck then" he added.
"Yes", she uttered, feinting to be really afraid. or perhaps it wasn't that much feinted.
Harry patted her hand before letting her go, and she stood up. She straightened her school robes and shuddered a bit, involuntarily. So much for the feinted fear.
As she was about to turn on her heels, she heard "Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"You'll be out there, tomorrow, won't you?"
She hesitated. "Well. To tell you the truth, yes, I suppose I will."
He nodded.
"But then" she added "I'm not you. you know. Harry Potter." She emphasised with a tentative smile.
"You're still very exposed, Hermione. Muggle born. And one of my best friends.» He looked up under a lock of hair. "You'll have to be careful, huh?"
"I will Harry, I will."
And she went to the portrait hole.
Later that evening, in the Dungeons.
Hermione was walking while analysing the Marauders' Map in her hands. She hadn't come here just after her conversation with Harry, because a walk really had been in order to calm her storming brain. Not to say it was serene right then, but still. She had tried. She intended not to step too noisily, although she had half a mind that the deafening thundering of her heart would give her away, anyway. God that was still Snape, after all. moody, towering, impressive Snape.
According to the magical object guiding her, she was now as near from Snape as she could be. Only a wall separated her from what she supposed were his private chambers, since it wasn't his office, nor of course the potion classroom. A thick stain wall, though. chilly, typical of the dungeon.
She hesitated. Well, she seemed quite lost anyway, so she had better meet the Potion Master, now, or she would have to walk for an eternity through the intricacy indicated by the map. She was sure he knew a passageway for her. if he didn't throw her out before, she thought pointedly. Summoning all her courage, she remembered why she had come, took her wand out to scan the wall, and. didn't find any door. Oh, Merlin's hat!
He was still pacing on her Map, so she came in front of the place where he would undoubtedly pass, tapped the wall to let it sound-permeable, waited for him to be just in the right place, took a great breath, steadied herself. did it again because it wouldn't work, resisted the impulse to hit her head against the wall, although it may have the desired effect anyway, shut down her defence system's protestations, and knocked.
Then she deftly closed the map and put the blanked piece of parchment in one of her pockets. And waited, again, unsure. For a moment she thought he would appear out of thin air. Then she looked around her and saw nothing. Maybe he hadn't heard. Or he didn't think it was someone, after all there w.
"Miss Granger."
All Right, here he was. The dark door had been camouflaged about ten feet to her left. She had scanned that part of the wall, though. So it had to be a strong hiding charm.
"May you be so nice and tell me what the hell you're doing here at this hour, please?"
'Calm down, calm down.' she thought. "Well", she spoke up. "To tell you the truth." She would have sworn he was biting back a 'You'd better'. Lucky he was biting it back, then. "I was coming to see you and err. didn't find the door."
"Which I'm very grateful for, since it's the purpose of doors pretending to be walls. So, your brain was very frustrated about that failure and you found another way to catch my attention. How very characteristic of you." She was looking at him while he spoke. He wasn't in robes, only in trousers and shirt, but that didn't make him look less dreadful: still that worn out face, having endured everything, ready to die was all that came to her mind to describe it. She felt a wave of compassion.
"However, and although I wonder how on earth you found the location of my quarters, I don't have time for your academic questions, not tonight Miss Granger. And so I'll ask you to go back where you want, I won't even question the means you employed to come to me or the hour it is, just. Go away."
His words weren't surprising, but his tone suggested weariness in so much quantities that she wouldn't have been any more shocked if he had added a authentic 'please'.
However, she managed to walk toward him and answer before he shut the door.
"That's not why I'm here Professor. It's not about work or potions."
This time he did seem a bit surprised, and truly looked at her, directly, for the first time.
"Isn't it?"
He seemed to make up his mind and stepped back, to let her enter. And so she did. "I suppose," he added "that I may as well listen to you, as it seem it could be the last evening that I can do so."
Refusing to process the implied meaning of it, she searched for the sofa, without looking at anything else in the room, and headed to it. Snape stared at her while she sat, his expression giving away the sarcasm he could have pronounced, but stayed silent. When she was sat, he took his wand out, pointed it at her, and conjured a cup of tea between her twitching hands.
"So, Miss Granger, I'm listening." He said, still leaning on the wall and very tall and dark to her.
"Well." She breathed. 'Yeah, breathing is a good idea' she heard her imagination supply to the comment he apparently wasn't in the mood to make this evening. "I came to tell you something." 'Really?' the annoying voice went on. "I. Err." She had to make that voice quit, it was highly disturbing. And Snape's lack of anything mean was strange, to say the least.
"All right, let's try it again" she uttered, and he kept his eyes upon her.
"The students of that school have to express their gratitude and admiration for you" she pronounced, not looking at him. "And I really wanted you to know, although I'm conscious that it's not much, that we're all at your side. And. We will help you, as much as we can, tomorrow, consigns or not. We want this school to survive as much as you, and. we want you to survive." She stopped and hesitated to look up. "Oh, and some of us also wanted to tell you how much we're worried about you. you. well you don't look, err. healthy and.»
"And some of you actually noticed?" he interrupted, forcing her to finally level her eyes.
"Yes, definitely." She said, her eyes in his. "You've been our teacher for some years, and.»
"And I've been bitter enough to last you a lifetime so you don't need me anymore, do you?" She tried to interrupt but he went on. "How very nice from the Head Girl to make herself spokeswoman of a human care, and how Gryffindor and pitiful of you to invent that care in the first place. But thanks, I can live without your imaginary compassion."
"Professor, I'm. Well I'm sincere." She tried to think a way of making him believe her, and let down his damn isolating wall of acrimony and bitterness. Somehow it now seemed the most important thing to do. She had come for it and would find a way.
"Please, Professor, just believe me when I tell you I didn't even think about my Head Girl err. duties, when I decided of coming here."
She tried to catch his eyes. And failed miserably while he toyed with his wand and took a good long detached look at the floor.
"I mean. I came because I'm worried about you. Me, personally, and I don't fake it."
He still didn't react.
"You look awful, and I feel bad for you."
Nothing.
"Professor you didn't even use your well-known biting comments tonight. And that's worrying me sick."
"Miss Granger" he finally said, not looking at her. "That I do look awful, as you put it, or even disgusting, as I've already heard, isn't really new, is it?"
"You know that's not what I meant!" she revolted.
"If you say so, whatever. You're right however for the sarcasm. And I figured I would try it since it's perhaps my last night to live. But, believe me, I'm not worth the worry of one of Harry Potter's best friends. Go and cheer him up, he certainly needs it; I'm a grown man, I don't."
"That's a lie." She said, trying to look calm while constantly wondering if that was too much. Apparently not, since he didn't explode, only watched her expectantly.
"What" he mocked "Am I not a grown man?"
She nearly smiled. "I never knew grown men were to cope alone with everything. To the point, no, the lie is that you don't need anybody."
"You were looking for my sarcasm. Then. let me say I didn't use the word 'anybody'; I only told you I didn't need you."
Her eyes narrowed for a nanosecond and it was gone. She wouldn't let him chase her out that way. She took her wand slowly, aimed calmly and conjured a cup of tea for him. The same one he had sent her, only a little stronger, perhaps. "Come and sit," she said.
He seemed amused, but pocketed his wand, stood up from the wall, and walked to the armchair in front of her. Before he had the time to sit, though, she convinced herself to ignore his face, clearly betraying that he only waited to explain her she had no business with him, and repeated, "Come here," and patted the place beside her, as if it was the most normal place to suggest.
He slowed his pace and she admonished herself. That was too much, she shouldn't have. but then he stepped up and sat beside her, on the sofa. She turned to face him, to be sure she wasn't falling asleep and imagining things, but no. He was really there. 'Good, nearing the limit, scaringly so, but clever move.' She thought.
She had forgotten his declarations about not needing her. Fortunately so.
He let the silence settle, sipping distractedly his tea.
"Professor?" she called.
"Miss Granger."
"You believe me, don't you? We do care about you."
Silence.
"Who's we?" he finally consented to ask.
"Oh. well. It's about everybody in the school, but. If you want to know, I discussed it more specifically with Harry."
He turned his head and some surprise wasn't dissimulated in his expression.
"No, really." She assured him.
"Good.» He admitted. "Then I thank you."
This time she felt surprise settle over her whole face.
"No, really." He mocked.
Hey, that was more teasing than his usual sharpness. Did the man really think he would die the next day, or what else could make him act gently? Well, gently considering what his usual manners were, anyway.
He was plunging again in the swirls of his tea, and she came nearer, without him to notice. Well, perhaps she didn't even notice herself, it was really more of an impulse, or she wouldn't have dared anyway. And she kissed his cheek.
He started in surprise and she was sure he nearly let his tea slip.
For a moment, she thought he was fighting for words. But then, she realised he wouldn't say anything. He tried to ignore what she had just done the best he could.
So she took unfairly profit of it and of the still nearness, and hugged him. She felt him tense, but wouldn't let go. Her arms were tight around him, nearly painfully so since he wouldn't lean against her. She felt lots of different emotion pass through her for the man in her arms, not able to be anything but an inanimate rock against her. She did know what it was to refuse human contact, and lock oneself in intellectual. well, thorough analysis wasn't the most immediate problem, anyway. She stared at the wall.
"You know," she said, playing on his register " I don't think that if you or me die tomorrow, it will matter much to people, that I embraced you tonight."
He closed his eyes, slowly. Almost pleadingly. But what for?
"And if I survive, I promise I won't tell anyway."
At that he opened them again and apparently nearly look at her, but caught himself in time. However, he was still shocked, as if paralysed. She really wondered what to do and finally admitted she would have to let go of him.
And then it happened. He just relaxed.
He leaned against her and breathed freely again. She took the cup from his hand, deposited it delicately on the floor, for lack of a table she could have spotted near. Well, maybe if she had looked next to her she would have found it. But it was hardly the central subject of her attention as she took him against her chest and petted his head, at first hesitantly.
She smiled at the idea that she should be admonishing herself about something along the line of "Oh, God, I'm petting Snape's hair, for God's sake!" But she didn't. It felt good to have him alive beside her, confident enough to let his head on her, under her hand. And soaking her clothes. wait a minute, soaking? Were that tears? Oh God. And think The Boy Who Lived had offered to come with her. One of the two would have died of a nervous attack in that case. Or most probably nothing would have happened.
At that very instant, she heard a whisper. "Thanks," it said.
Oh God. Was that reality, then?
***