Hermione drew in a deep breath, trying in vain to calm herself as the steps
carried her upwards to Dumbledore's office. She'd spoken with Molly
Weasley, making sure she knew that she would be late back that evening and
not to worry. She wiped her sweaty palms on the skirts of her robe,
furiously berating herself for being so nervous.
Stepping to the door, she knocked quietly and entered, forcing herself to greet Dumbledore with a smile. Every part of her body was screaming at her to look at Snape, who seemed to have frozen mid-conversation at her entrance. Remus Lupin pinched him quickly, ignoring the furious scowl he got for his efforts.
'Hermione, it's wonderful to see you,' he said, moving away from the fuming Potions Master and embracing his young friend. 'How are you?'
'I'm very well, thank you, Professor,' Hermione told him quietly, acutely aware that Snape was standing at his back, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Lupin waved a finger under her nose.
'My name is Remus, Hermione, I'm not your professor any longer.'
Before she could reply, Hermione was spun around and pulled into a tight hug. Pulling back, she grinned up at Sirius Black, who seemed overjoyed to see her. He hugged her again.
'Why didn't you tell me where you went?' he asked bluntly, unashamed of his concern for her.
'We didn't think it was a good idea for everyone to know, Sirius,' Dumbledore told him, skilfully pulling the Animagus away from her.
'We? You mean, you knew?'
Rhys Mulqueen winked at Hermione, grinning at the shocked expression on her face. In all the time she had known the Welsh professor, she'd never once seen her smile. She pulled Lupin off to one side, engaging him quickly in animated conversation. Hermione turned, and found herself face to face with Severus Snape.
'Good evening, Miss Granger,' he said softly, cursing himself for not having the courage to call her by name.
Hermione flushed slightly, smiling up at him.
'And to you, Professor,' she replied. 'May I say how glad I am that you are recovering so well?'
Snape inclined his head to her, hating the sound of her voice calling him 'professor' again. It was bad enough when she was his student.
'Thank you. But please, call me Severus. You sound like a first-year.'
Great, brilliant, he thought bitterly. The first time you see her and you compare her to a knock-kneed eleven-year-old.
However, far from being insulted, Hermione laughed, remembering something similar said to her by his future self. Emboldened by his not-so-cold reception, she stepped closer.
'Very well. But only if you will call me Hermione. Miss Granger reminds me too much of Double Potions on a Friday.'
Snape narrowed his eyes, aware that he was being teased and not quite believing it. Seeing nothing but sincerity in her face, he allowed his lips to twitch into a smile, his expression warmed by a surge of love for her that he was unable to suppress entirely.
Across the room, Sirius was spluttering at Dumbledore.
'You mean you're actually trying to match-make Hermione with Snape? Are you out of your mind?'
McGonagall chuckled at the mildly affronted look on Dumbledore's face.
'Not at all, Sirius, I assure you. If you speak with Hermione, you have only to mention Severus and her face lights up. And he is just as smitten, if not more so.'
Sirius snorted derisively.
'The day he falls in love, I'll walk Diagon Alley in a dress,' he warned.
Dumbledore grinned.
'This I have to see,' he said, laughing. 'Is Tuesday good for you?'
McGonagall couldn't suppress her laughter on seeing the astonished expression on Sirius' face. Rhys slipped over to them, having sent Remus to referee the conversation in the corner.
'You may not believe this, but he actually smiled at her,' she said excitedly,' in public! And it doesn't look as though either of them are going to attack any time soon.'
Sirius growled.
'If he so much as lays a finger on her -'
'We'll leave Hermione to deal with it,' Dumbledore finished, his smile becoming a frown for the irate Animagus. 'End of story, Sirius.'
Remus leant on the wall, listening to the conversation with interest. Hermione had asked Snape about the Obliviscor and he had begun explaining the process to her.
'So, the potion on it's own won't work?' she asked, a small frown on her forehead.
Snape shook his head, caught up in the discussion.
'No, it would wipe your entire memory,' he said. 'We'll use the Memorina Charm so that you can choose which memories to remove yourself.'
'How will I know?'
Snape looked thoughtful for a moment, and Remus watched as Hermione seemed to melt under his intelligent gaze. The werewolf shook his head in disbelief. She really had fallen hard. Even he, who was wont to see the good in everyone, had problems when it came to Snape.
'We'll use a Pensieve,' Snape said suddenly, as the pieces fell into place. 'You can select the memories you want to forget as they appear on the surface.'
Hermione looked troubled.
'Won't that mean whoever's with me will see them, though?'
'Not if you don't want them to. I assure you, whoever you ask will be told to mind their own business.'
Remus was as surprised by Snape's suddenly polite behaviour as he was by Hermione's reaction to it. He'd never known Snape speak to anyone as an equal, or explain anything without even a hint of impatience.
Hermione was enjoying every minute of this. She'd never spoken with Snape on a par before, and his intellect was dizzying. She could see why he was a Potions Master, his knowledge of the potion in question was definitely in depth. As he spoke, she could see the interest, the passion for the subject, in his eyes and the way he explained everything. He didn't seem to mind that she had stepped closer. Her body was aching for him to wrap an arm about her shoulders, to kiss her, but she refused to make the first move.
Snape, on the other hand, was panicking quietly. He'd been so relieved when Hermione had asked about the potion, that he had immediately launched into a full explanation of its effects and what he would need to do for it to work with her. Still, she seemed genuinely interested, her thirst for knowledge undented by her recent experiences. He was thrilled to the core when she moved closer, obviously more interested in the potion than him, but close enough for him to smell her hair, feel the warmth from her body. He realised the path his thoughts were taking, forcing them back onto safer ground. It wouldn't do to speak to her, all the while imagining what it would be like to kiss her senseless.
Their conversation continued through dinner, both going over every tiny detail of the process she wished to put herself through. It was decided that Snape would procure the ingredients, and Hermione would return to Hogwarts in a few day's time to begin the brewing. When she left, Snape found himself staring at the empty fireplace for an hour or more, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.
*~*~*
Snape poured the potion into a beaker to cool, glancing at Hermione's nervous expression.
'You are sure you wish me to stay, Hermione? I can fetch Minerva or Poppy, if you would prefer them,' he said, not wanting to be the cause of any awkwardness she might feel.
Over the past few days, he had seen Hermione's confidence with him grow to the point where she was willing to speak to him as an equal. She seemed strangely comfortable with him, a state that had rubbed off. He'd overseen her brewing of the Obliviscor, unable to fault her methods. She would make a fine Potions Mistress. His abrasive nature had subsided in her company, and Hermione had noticed that she was working alongside the Snape she had seen in the future.
As she'd worked, Hermione had confided to him her hopes for the future. She had applied to Avalon University, an institution known for its high quality Potions instruction. Snape knew this, because that was where he had gained his own Master's degree. The problem Hermione faced was that she had sat the exam, and passed with full marks. The lecturers had consulted about this, since it meant that she knew most of what they could teach her, and had decided the best way for her to attain her Mistress degree would be to take a year's apprenticeship with a known Potions Master. What Hermione hadn't told him was that his name had been put forward to her.
She sighed, calming her irrational fears. Snape was a Master, he knew what he was doing.
'No, Severus, I wouldn't have asked you to do this with me unless I meant for you to be here.'
He frowned, deciding to take the jump with a question that had been bothering him for a few days.
'If you don't mind my asking, Hermione, why did you choose me? I've not been the most supportive of influences in your life.'
She smiled at his derogatory tone. Because I love you, you idiot, she thought uncharitably.
'Because,' she began, then paused, unsure of how he would take what she had to say. 'Of all the people I know, you are the one least likely to judge me.'
He nodded slowly.
'Because of my past,' he said darkly.
Seeing that she had soured his mood, Hermione hastened to put her words right.
'I didn't mean it like that,' she said, wishing she could take back the words. 'I just meant that I trust you to help me through this without thinking any worse of me.'
Touched that she trusted him, Snape stared at her, suddenly aware that her hand was pressed against his arm in her earnest attempt to smooth his rising temper. He glanced down at it, feeling a wave of emotion threaten to overwhelm him. Hermione slowly tightened her grip, never taking her eyes from his face.
'Please stay, Severus. I can't do this without you.'
To herself, she sounded pathetic, simpering. But as Snape gazed down into her eyes, he felt the beginnings of hope stir in his soul. She needed him, and he would not let her down. He had forced himself to let his guard down over the last few days, and had been rewarded with her confidences. Now, he would stay with her for as long as she wanted him to, even if it were only a few hours longer.
'I'll stay,' he promised, covering her hand with his. 'Are you ready?'
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
'As I'll ever be.'
She lifted the beaker to her lips, the ice blue liquid slipping down her throat. As she swallowed the potion, she heard Snape speak the incantation, his deep voice intoning the words with confident ease.
'Memorina Induce Face (make the induction of little memory - reduce memory).'
White light shot from his wand, striking her heart as she swallowed the last of the liquid. The beaker clattered to the floor as Hermione's knees buckled under the sudden onslaught of emotion that overwhelmed her - fear, anger, sorrow, pain.
She vaguely felt Snape's arms about her as he helped her onto a stool. Her wand was placed in her hand, and he gently leant her over the Pensieve they had set on the worktop. Hermione could hardly see through the tears that formed in her eyes, but she blinked them away. As the liquid stirred, images forming on the surface, she felt Snape leave her side, moving away to give her privacy.
She saw, reflected in the bowl, Harry's face as he smiled down at her. A faint smile was echoed on her face as she dismissed it, not wishing to lose the memory of his love. The dreams came next, the awful truth that had been broken so brutally to her. Hermione, ever practical, understood that she could easily lose the essence of herself if she deleted every bad experience she had ever had. She knew what she needed to forget, and hurried through her sub-conscious in search of it.
The Tower. Hermione saw again the murders of the innocent Muggles, the rape of the women. She sobbed again, feeling the fear and anger of that night seep through her, the feeling of helplessness. Forcing herself to dwell on that terrible experience, she raised her wand and uttered the single word that would banish it from her mind.
'Ite (go).'
The liquid rippled violently as the image was torn from its surface, disappearing forever from her memory.
Harry's death. Hermione concentrated, feeling her way through the grief and sorrow to the actual moment his life was taken from him. The grieving had matured her, given her the strength to face her father, but she couldn't bear dreaming each night of the sight of his body as it hit the floor, lifeless. Again, she raised her wand, tears streaming down her face.
And so it went on. Every scrap of information as to how she had killed her father was sent away with a single word. Everything that had transpired in the little chamber, dismissed, as she felt the horror and pain of what she had done once again wash over her. Her sides ached from crying, her voice hoarse. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she banished her deed from her mind.
Finally, it was finished. Hermione turned away from the Pensieve, still sobbing, and fell from stool. Snape leapt forward, catching her as she stumbled onto her knees. He knelt beside her, shocked at the intensity of emotion she felt, and the way his heart ached with each ragged sob that shook her body. She clutched at him, burying her face in his shoulder. Unable to move away, he held her, stroking her hair and whispering comfort to her.
After what seemed hours, she slowly quieted, emitting the occasional sniffle as she laid her head on his shoulder. Exhausted from her emotional ordeal, Hermione drifted to sleep, safe in the circle of Snape's arms.
Stepping to the door, she knocked quietly and entered, forcing herself to greet Dumbledore with a smile. Every part of her body was screaming at her to look at Snape, who seemed to have frozen mid-conversation at her entrance. Remus Lupin pinched him quickly, ignoring the furious scowl he got for his efforts.
'Hermione, it's wonderful to see you,' he said, moving away from the fuming Potions Master and embracing his young friend. 'How are you?'
'I'm very well, thank you, Professor,' Hermione told him quietly, acutely aware that Snape was standing at his back, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Lupin waved a finger under her nose.
'My name is Remus, Hermione, I'm not your professor any longer.'
Before she could reply, Hermione was spun around and pulled into a tight hug. Pulling back, she grinned up at Sirius Black, who seemed overjoyed to see her. He hugged her again.
'Why didn't you tell me where you went?' he asked bluntly, unashamed of his concern for her.
'We didn't think it was a good idea for everyone to know, Sirius,' Dumbledore told him, skilfully pulling the Animagus away from her.
'We? You mean, you knew?'
Rhys Mulqueen winked at Hermione, grinning at the shocked expression on her face. In all the time she had known the Welsh professor, she'd never once seen her smile. She pulled Lupin off to one side, engaging him quickly in animated conversation. Hermione turned, and found herself face to face with Severus Snape.
'Good evening, Miss Granger,' he said softly, cursing himself for not having the courage to call her by name.
Hermione flushed slightly, smiling up at him.
'And to you, Professor,' she replied. 'May I say how glad I am that you are recovering so well?'
Snape inclined his head to her, hating the sound of her voice calling him 'professor' again. It was bad enough when she was his student.
'Thank you. But please, call me Severus. You sound like a first-year.'
Great, brilliant, he thought bitterly. The first time you see her and you compare her to a knock-kneed eleven-year-old.
However, far from being insulted, Hermione laughed, remembering something similar said to her by his future self. Emboldened by his not-so-cold reception, she stepped closer.
'Very well. But only if you will call me Hermione. Miss Granger reminds me too much of Double Potions on a Friday.'
Snape narrowed his eyes, aware that he was being teased and not quite believing it. Seeing nothing but sincerity in her face, he allowed his lips to twitch into a smile, his expression warmed by a surge of love for her that he was unable to suppress entirely.
Across the room, Sirius was spluttering at Dumbledore.
'You mean you're actually trying to match-make Hermione with Snape? Are you out of your mind?'
McGonagall chuckled at the mildly affronted look on Dumbledore's face.
'Not at all, Sirius, I assure you. If you speak with Hermione, you have only to mention Severus and her face lights up. And he is just as smitten, if not more so.'
Sirius snorted derisively.
'The day he falls in love, I'll walk Diagon Alley in a dress,' he warned.
Dumbledore grinned.
'This I have to see,' he said, laughing. 'Is Tuesday good for you?'
McGonagall couldn't suppress her laughter on seeing the astonished expression on Sirius' face. Rhys slipped over to them, having sent Remus to referee the conversation in the corner.
'You may not believe this, but he actually smiled at her,' she said excitedly,' in public! And it doesn't look as though either of them are going to attack any time soon.'
Sirius growled.
'If he so much as lays a finger on her -'
'We'll leave Hermione to deal with it,' Dumbledore finished, his smile becoming a frown for the irate Animagus. 'End of story, Sirius.'
Remus leant on the wall, listening to the conversation with interest. Hermione had asked Snape about the Obliviscor and he had begun explaining the process to her.
'So, the potion on it's own won't work?' she asked, a small frown on her forehead.
Snape shook his head, caught up in the discussion.
'No, it would wipe your entire memory,' he said. 'We'll use the Memorina Charm so that you can choose which memories to remove yourself.'
'How will I know?'
Snape looked thoughtful for a moment, and Remus watched as Hermione seemed to melt under his intelligent gaze. The werewolf shook his head in disbelief. She really had fallen hard. Even he, who was wont to see the good in everyone, had problems when it came to Snape.
'We'll use a Pensieve,' Snape said suddenly, as the pieces fell into place. 'You can select the memories you want to forget as they appear on the surface.'
Hermione looked troubled.
'Won't that mean whoever's with me will see them, though?'
'Not if you don't want them to. I assure you, whoever you ask will be told to mind their own business.'
Remus was as surprised by Snape's suddenly polite behaviour as he was by Hermione's reaction to it. He'd never known Snape speak to anyone as an equal, or explain anything without even a hint of impatience.
Hermione was enjoying every minute of this. She'd never spoken with Snape on a par before, and his intellect was dizzying. She could see why he was a Potions Master, his knowledge of the potion in question was definitely in depth. As he spoke, she could see the interest, the passion for the subject, in his eyes and the way he explained everything. He didn't seem to mind that she had stepped closer. Her body was aching for him to wrap an arm about her shoulders, to kiss her, but she refused to make the first move.
Snape, on the other hand, was panicking quietly. He'd been so relieved when Hermione had asked about the potion, that he had immediately launched into a full explanation of its effects and what he would need to do for it to work with her. Still, she seemed genuinely interested, her thirst for knowledge undented by her recent experiences. He was thrilled to the core when she moved closer, obviously more interested in the potion than him, but close enough for him to smell her hair, feel the warmth from her body. He realised the path his thoughts were taking, forcing them back onto safer ground. It wouldn't do to speak to her, all the while imagining what it would be like to kiss her senseless.
Their conversation continued through dinner, both going over every tiny detail of the process she wished to put herself through. It was decided that Snape would procure the ingredients, and Hermione would return to Hogwarts in a few day's time to begin the brewing. When she left, Snape found himself staring at the empty fireplace for an hour or more, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.
*~*~*
Snape poured the potion into a beaker to cool, glancing at Hermione's nervous expression.
'You are sure you wish me to stay, Hermione? I can fetch Minerva or Poppy, if you would prefer them,' he said, not wanting to be the cause of any awkwardness she might feel.
Over the past few days, he had seen Hermione's confidence with him grow to the point where she was willing to speak to him as an equal. She seemed strangely comfortable with him, a state that had rubbed off. He'd overseen her brewing of the Obliviscor, unable to fault her methods. She would make a fine Potions Mistress. His abrasive nature had subsided in her company, and Hermione had noticed that she was working alongside the Snape she had seen in the future.
As she'd worked, Hermione had confided to him her hopes for the future. She had applied to Avalon University, an institution known for its high quality Potions instruction. Snape knew this, because that was where he had gained his own Master's degree. The problem Hermione faced was that she had sat the exam, and passed with full marks. The lecturers had consulted about this, since it meant that she knew most of what they could teach her, and had decided the best way for her to attain her Mistress degree would be to take a year's apprenticeship with a known Potions Master. What Hermione hadn't told him was that his name had been put forward to her.
She sighed, calming her irrational fears. Snape was a Master, he knew what he was doing.
'No, Severus, I wouldn't have asked you to do this with me unless I meant for you to be here.'
He frowned, deciding to take the jump with a question that had been bothering him for a few days.
'If you don't mind my asking, Hermione, why did you choose me? I've not been the most supportive of influences in your life.'
She smiled at his derogatory tone. Because I love you, you idiot, she thought uncharitably.
'Because,' she began, then paused, unsure of how he would take what she had to say. 'Of all the people I know, you are the one least likely to judge me.'
He nodded slowly.
'Because of my past,' he said darkly.
Seeing that she had soured his mood, Hermione hastened to put her words right.
'I didn't mean it like that,' she said, wishing she could take back the words. 'I just meant that I trust you to help me through this without thinking any worse of me.'
Touched that she trusted him, Snape stared at her, suddenly aware that her hand was pressed against his arm in her earnest attempt to smooth his rising temper. He glanced down at it, feeling a wave of emotion threaten to overwhelm him. Hermione slowly tightened her grip, never taking her eyes from his face.
'Please stay, Severus. I can't do this without you.'
To herself, she sounded pathetic, simpering. But as Snape gazed down into her eyes, he felt the beginnings of hope stir in his soul. She needed him, and he would not let her down. He had forced himself to let his guard down over the last few days, and had been rewarded with her confidences. Now, he would stay with her for as long as she wanted him to, even if it were only a few hours longer.
'I'll stay,' he promised, covering her hand with his. 'Are you ready?'
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
'As I'll ever be.'
She lifted the beaker to her lips, the ice blue liquid slipping down her throat. As she swallowed the potion, she heard Snape speak the incantation, his deep voice intoning the words with confident ease.
'Memorina Induce Face (make the induction of little memory - reduce memory).'
White light shot from his wand, striking her heart as she swallowed the last of the liquid. The beaker clattered to the floor as Hermione's knees buckled under the sudden onslaught of emotion that overwhelmed her - fear, anger, sorrow, pain.
She vaguely felt Snape's arms about her as he helped her onto a stool. Her wand was placed in her hand, and he gently leant her over the Pensieve they had set on the worktop. Hermione could hardly see through the tears that formed in her eyes, but she blinked them away. As the liquid stirred, images forming on the surface, she felt Snape leave her side, moving away to give her privacy.
She saw, reflected in the bowl, Harry's face as he smiled down at her. A faint smile was echoed on her face as she dismissed it, not wishing to lose the memory of his love. The dreams came next, the awful truth that had been broken so brutally to her. Hermione, ever practical, understood that she could easily lose the essence of herself if she deleted every bad experience she had ever had. She knew what she needed to forget, and hurried through her sub-conscious in search of it.
The Tower. Hermione saw again the murders of the innocent Muggles, the rape of the women. She sobbed again, feeling the fear and anger of that night seep through her, the feeling of helplessness. Forcing herself to dwell on that terrible experience, she raised her wand and uttered the single word that would banish it from her mind.
'Ite (go).'
The liquid rippled violently as the image was torn from its surface, disappearing forever from her memory.
Harry's death. Hermione concentrated, feeling her way through the grief and sorrow to the actual moment his life was taken from him. The grieving had matured her, given her the strength to face her father, but she couldn't bear dreaming each night of the sight of his body as it hit the floor, lifeless. Again, she raised her wand, tears streaming down her face.
And so it went on. Every scrap of information as to how she had killed her father was sent away with a single word. Everything that had transpired in the little chamber, dismissed, as she felt the horror and pain of what she had done once again wash over her. Her sides ached from crying, her voice hoarse. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she banished her deed from her mind.
Finally, it was finished. Hermione turned away from the Pensieve, still sobbing, and fell from stool. Snape leapt forward, catching her as she stumbled onto her knees. He knelt beside her, shocked at the intensity of emotion she felt, and the way his heart ached with each ragged sob that shook her body. She clutched at him, burying her face in his shoulder. Unable to move away, he held her, stroking her hair and whispering comfort to her.
After what seemed hours, she slowly quieted, emitting the occasional sniffle as she laid her head on his shoulder. Exhausted from her emotional ordeal, Hermione drifted to sleep, safe in the circle of Snape's arms.