AN: Usual disclaimers apply, if you want to read it, go to Chapter One.
If you guys would like to be notified of updates on this or any of my other fics (you'll get updates on both HP fics), please e-mail me at ange_dansant@yahoo.com, NOT the e-mail address listed on my profile. I'll be away for a while and would rather that Inbox not get totally cluttered up.
CHAPTER SIX
The Calling
"Professor?"
Hermione looked up from the positively ancient tome she was reading. "Sev!" she greeted the boy. "Come in." She was seated behind her desk in her office, which was a bit down the hall from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but would no doubt be first on Sev's path. "Would you like some tea?" she asked casually, already rising, closing the book as she did and easily placing some papers on top of it.
"Yes, please." Sev entered and stood uncomfortably by one of the plush armchairs Hermione insisted on having in her office. The only other office that had armchairs such as these was Dumbledore's; in a sense, Hermione and Dumbledore had similar tastes and requirements, though Hermione had never been very fond of lemon drops.
"Hibiscus, am I right?" Hermione smiled at him, trying to reassure him that he was doing nothing wrong simply by talking to her. "You can sit down, if you'd like - on one of the armchairs or just through that door, my sitting room."
Severus the Second edged to the door that Hermione had indicated, preferring to keep this conversation private, and as unrelated to school as he could get it. Then, her first question registered on his mind. "Hib - Hibiscus, yes, how did you know?"
Hermione smiled mischievously. "I have my ways. Besides, it helps when it's also my favourite and, I think, your father's." She clapped her hands once. "Dobby?"
The house-elf appeared at her elbow instantly. "Yes, Mistress Granger?"
"Could you fetch us our lunch, please? Sev, what would you like?"
"Dobby is knowing what Master Snape's son likes, Mistress Granger - Dobby will be back." With a sharp pop, Dobby disappeared.
Pouring herself and Sev each a cup, Hermione set the teacups on her silver serving tray and brought them into her sitting room, setting it down on the coffee table. "How do you take it?"
"Black, please." He watched as his teacher handed him a cup, then took her own, sitting next to him on the couch. She curled her legs up underneath him and regarded him somberly.
"So, Sev, what did you want to talk about?"
He looked suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know," he said. "Just...stuff, I guess." Sev gazed almost fearfully at Hermione, awaiting the ridicule that ordinarily accompanied hearing this response.
"Stuff," Hermione repeated slowly, surprising him when she took him seriously. "Well, what kind of stuff?"
"I don't know, you, or me, or...maybe my father."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Severus Snape, the First, frowned as he seated himself at the High Table. He usually tried to avoid lunch, but Dumbledore usually insisted that he be there, so he was usually there. Once in a while, the Headmaster would grant him a reprieve - it seemed, today, Dumbledore had granted HERMIONE a reprieve.
"Don't look so sour, Severus," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "It's amazing what one can learn just from listening, especially during lunch."
The Potions Master scowled at the older man, wondering what he meant. Dumbledore tended to have a purpose to his words, even if the purpose was apparent to nobody else but him. Nevertheless, too irritated with this year's group of "dunderheads" to have the patience to try to comprehend the Headmaster's words, Snape just stared into his food and began to eat.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Meanwhile, Snape's son happened to be having a very lovely lunch, shared with his soon-to-be favourite teacher.
They were laughing over jokes, little things Hermione remembered from her years as a student, namely experiences with Sev's father.
"I'll never forget the look on poor Neville's face," Hermione giggled. "The swelling potion - the two of us had managed to make it right - simply EXPLODED all over the room. It hit your father, and BAM," she grinned. "He swelled up like a marshmallow! Neville looked something like...Hm..." pausing to think, Hermione finally got it and schooled her features into a positively hilarious face of desperate fear.
Sev had the misfortune of just having taken another sip of tea, and he spit it out, laughing. "No!"
Hermione nodded. "Oh, I know I oughtn't be making fun, but...You should have seen your father! He was FURIOUS, but no one could take him seriously, considering he had swelled up to four times his usual size and was bright red all over. In fact..." Hermione got up and dug through her bookshelves, then pulled out a hardcover, leather-bound book, flipping it open. "Here. Look at this."
Sev had the good sense of not taking a sip of tea before looking at the photo. Its magical properties only enhanced the hilarity.
Snape, in his usual black, billowing robes, was four times his ordinary size (which was formidable in itself) and red as a cherry. He scowled at the two of them as the class alternated between laughing and crying, and a bushy-haired Hermione tried to comfort a hysterically sobbing Neville Longbottom, looking plump as ever.
Sev laughed uncontrollably, putting down his tea, till tears of mirth rolled down his cheeks. "I'm never," he gasped, "going to look - at my father - again - without laughing."
Hermione was lost in peals of laughter as well. "I know! Nobody looked at him for a good three weeks afterwards without having to hide a laugh! I don't think Slytherin House ever lost that many points from their own Head in an entire decade! And," she gasped for breath as well, "the worst part of it was that somehow Neville and I had doubled - nearly tripled - the strength of the potion, so your father deducted points!"
Eventually, the two calmed down and resumed their idle chat.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Snape looked up from his food. Something was seriously amiss, other than Hermione. Once again, he glanced to his left, where the seat ordinarily occupied by the DADA teacher was conspicuously empty.
His gaze swept the Great Hall for what seemed like the hundredth time, and he shot deadly glares at whoever dared look his way.
Suddenly, as if he had had an epiphany, he looked at the Gryffindor table.
Where the hell was his son?
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Hermione was in the middle of explaining some Muggle concept to Sev when she was struck by a very tangible, very excruciating lash of pain.
"Ooh!" she sucked in a deep breath of air, doubling over and clutching at her head. "My head!" she gasped, and Sev leaned forward, concerned.
"Professor? Are you alright?"
She raked her hair back from her face savagely, face contorted with pain. "Fine," she managed. "D'you see that door?" she asked, nearly stumbling over her own words, reverting to the "d'you"'s that Ron had been so prone to using. Sev nodded, concerned.
"Take your wand and unward it - do you know how to unward doors?"
"Yes."
"I have an elemental ward on it, water - and then use alohomora. There is a gold phial on my nightstand. Fetch it, quickly." Holding her head in her hands, Hermione breathed, each breath she drew laboured and deep. Sev tripped over himself trying to get to the door, and nearly messed up the unwarding.
Hermione mentally willed the door to unward nicely for her young student - if he messed it up, there would be nothing she could do; she was in no state right now to do any magic.
As if hearing her prayers, the door unlocked itself, swinging open, and Sev practically vaulted over her bed to grab the phial, running back into Hermione's sitting room.
"Thank you," she managed to say, before uncorking the phial and tipping it into her mouth, not bothering, as she usually did, to measure it out in some semblance of neatness; she knew that there wasn't much left in it anyway.
"Odd...it's never been like that before," Hermione whispered, pain and concern creasing her face. "Something must have happened. Come with me, quickly." Not waiting for a response, Hermione grabbed Sev's hand and pulled him to the fireplace. "Incendio," she instructed. "Say it."
He waved his wand. "Incendio!"
The fire lit, and Hermione grasped a small porcelain jar of Floo powder. Taking a liberal pinch and hurling it into the fire, she said, "Staff parlour!" and pushed Sev in, following him closely.
They stumbled out into a neatly decorated room, with a large oval table in the centre and comfortable looking chairs around it. There were two doors and Hermione grabbed Sev's hand again. "Come on," she said, pain not hindering her ability to give orders. "Through the door. Go sit at your table. I'll be back soon. I'm sorry our meeting had to be cut short," she practically babbled, leading him to and then ushering the boy through the door.
"Are you - Do you have the..." Sev's question was lost as they emerged into the loud clamour of the Great Hall, and Hermione practically ran for Dumbledore.
"Albus," she gasped out, the exertion finally catching up with her. "I - I..."
She grabbed her head once more, the pain overtaking her in waves.
"Harry and Ron?" Dumbledore asked gravely, understanding.
"Yes," Hermione said through clenched teeth. The entire Great Hall had fallen quiet with her frantic entrance. Even Snape watched with morbid interest.
"Minerva and Poppy. Come here, help me." The two women at Dumbledore's left had already scraped back their chairs and rushed to Hermione's side before Dumbledore even finished verbalizing his command.
"Let's get you to Hogsmeade," Minerva murmured comfortingly, helping Hermione back into the staff parlour.
"Good luck," Dumbledore said, recognising his need to stay here and help keep things with the students under control.
Once Minerva, Poppy and Hermione were all in the staff parlour, they helped her Floo to The Three Broomsticks.
"You can go from here?" Minerva inquired, concerned, as they burst out of The Three Broomsticks' fireplace, much to the surprise of Madam Rosmerta.
"Emergency," Poppy explained breathlessly. "Sorry."
"It's alright. Is she okay?" Rosmerta bustled over, now joining the small huddle of women.
"I'll be fine," Hermione ground out, plunging her hand into her robes for her wand. "Please have Professor Snape cover the rest of my classes. I think he's got the afternoon off, tell him to cover..." Another spasm shook Hermione, pain flooding her face as she winced. "Tell him," she said, breaths ragged, "to cover the next lesson. NO HOMEWORK," she said firmly. "I'll be back by dinner. If not, send someone..."
Her last sentence faded away along with her body, as Hermione Apparated.
If you guys would like to be notified of updates on this or any of my other fics (you'll get updates on both HP fics), please e-mail me at ange_dansant@yahoo.com, NOT the e-mail address listed on my profile. I'll be away for a while and would rather that Inbox not get totally cluttered up.
CHAPTER SIX
The Calling
"Professor?"
Hermione looked up from the positively ancient tome she was reading. "Sev!" she greeted the boy. "Come in." She was seated behind her desk in her office, which was a bit down the hall from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but would no doubt be first on Sev's path. "Would you like some tea?" she asked casually, already rising, closing the book as she did and easily placing some papers on top of it.
"Yes, please." Sev entered and stood uncomfortably by one of the plush armchairs Hermione insisted on having in her office. The only other office that had armchairs such as these was Dumbledore's; in a sense, Hermione and Dumbledore had similar tastes and requirements, though Hermione had never been very fond of lemon drops.
"Hibiscus, am I right?" Hermione smiled at him, trying to reassure him that he was doing nothing wrong simply by talking to her. "You can sit down, if you'd like - on one of the armchairs or just through that door, my sitting room."
Severus the Second edged to the door that Hermione had indicated, preferring to keep this conversation private, and as unrelated to school as he could get it. Then, her first question registered on his mind. "Hib - Hibiscus, yes, how did you know?"
Hermione smiled mischievously. "I have my ways. Besides, it helps when it's also my favourite and, I think, your father's." She clapped her hands once. "Dobby?"
The house-elf appeared at her elbow instantly. "Yes, Mistress Granger?"
"Could you fetch us our lunch, please? Sev, what would you like?"
"Dobby is knowing what Master Snape's son likes, Mistress Granger - Dobby will be back." With a sharp pop, Dobby disappeared.
Pouring herself and Sev each a cup, Hermione set the teacups on her silver serving tray and brought them into her sitting room, setting it down on the coffee table. "How do you take it?"
"Black, please." He watched as his teacher handed him a cup, then took her own, sitting next to him on the couch. She curled her legs up underneath him and regarded him somberly.
"So, Sev, what did you want to talk about?"
He looked suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know," he said. "Just...stuff, I guess." Sev gazed almost fearfully at Hermione, awaiting the ridicule that ordinarily accompanied hearing this response.
"Stuff," Hermione repeated slowly, surprising him when she took him seriously. "Well, what kind of stuff?"
"I don't know, you, or me, or...maybe my father."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Severus Snape, the First, frowned as he seated himself at the High Table. He usually tried to avoid lunch, but Dumbledore usually insisted that he be there, so he was usually there. Once in a while, the Headmaster would grant him a reprieve - it seemed, today, Dumbledore had granted HERMIONE a reprieve.
"Don't look so sour, Severus," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "It's amazing what one can learn just from listening, especially during lunch."
The Potions Master scowled at the older man, wondering what he meant. Dumbledore tended to have a purpose to his words, even if the purpose was apparent to nobody else but him. Nevertheless, too irritated with this year's group of "dunderheads" to have the patience to try to comprehend the Headmaster's words, Snape just stared into his food and began to eat.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Meanwhile, Snape's son happened to be having a very lovely lunch, shared with his soon-to-be favourite teacher.
They were laughing over jokes, little things Hermione remembered from her years as a student, namely experiences with Sev's father.
"I'll never forget the look on poor Neville's face," Hermione giggled. "The swelling potion - the two of us had managed to make it right - simply EXPLODED all over the room. It hit your father, and BAM," she grinned. "He swelled up like a marshmallow! Neville looked something like...Hm..." pausing to think, Hermione finally got it and schooled her features into a positively hilarious face of desperate fear.
Sev had the misfortune of just having taken another sip of tea, and he spit it out, laughing. "No!"
Hermione nodded. "Oh, I know I oughtn't be making fun, but...You should have seen your father! He was FURIOUS, but no one could take him seriously, considering he had swelled up to four times his usual size and was bright red all over. In fact..." Hermione got up and dug through her bookshelves, then pulled out a hardcover, leather-bound book, flipping it open. "Here. Look at this."
Sev had the good sense of not taking a sip of tea before looking at the photo. Its magical properties only enhanced the hilarity.
Snape, in his usual black, billowing robes, was four times his ordinary size (which was formidable in itself) and red as a cherry. He scowled at the two of them as the class alternated between laughing and crying, and a bushy-haired Hermione tried to comfort a hysterically sobbing Neville Longbottom, looking plump as ever.
Sev laughed uncontrollably, putting down his tea, till tears of mirth rolled down his cheeks. "I'm never," he gasped, "going to look - at my father - again - without laughing."
Hermione was lost in peals of laughter as well. "I know! Nobody looked at him for a good three weeks afterwards without having to hide a laugh! I don't think Slytherin House ever lost that many points from their own Head in an entire decade! And," she gasped for breath as well, "the worst part of it was that somehow Neville and I had doubled - nearly tripled - the strength of the potion, so your father deducted points!"
Eventually, the two calmed down and resumed their idle chat.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Snape looked up from his food. Something was seriously amiss, other than Hermione. Once again, he glanced to his left, where the seat ordinarily occupied by the DADA teacher was conspicuously empty.
His gaze swept the Great Hall for what seemed like the hundredth time, and he shot deadly glares at whoever dared look his way.
Suddenly, as if he had had an epiphany, he looked at the Gryffindor table.
Where the hell was his son?
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Hermione was in the middle of explaining some Muggle concept to Sev when she was struck by a very tangible, very excruciating lash of pain.
"Ooh!" she sucked in a deep breath of air, doubling over and clutching at her head. "My head!" she gasped, and Sev leaned forward, concerned.
"Professor? Are you alright?"
She raked her hair back from her face savagely, face contorted with pain. "Fine," she managed. "D'you see that door?" she asked, nearly stumbling over her own words, reverting to the "d'you"'s that Ron had been so prone to using. Sev nodded, concerned.
"Take your wand and unward it - do you know how to unward doors?"
"Yes."
"I have an elemental ward on it, water - and then use alohomora. There is a gold phial on my nightstand. Fetch it, quickly." Holding her head in her hands, Hermione breathed, each breath she drew laboured and deep. Sev tripped over himself trying to get to the door, and nearly messed up the unwarding.
Hermione mentally willed the door to unward nicely for her young student - if he messed it up, there would be nothing she could do; she was in no state right now to do any magic.
As if hearing her prayers, the door unlocked itself, swinging open, and Sev practically vaulted over her bed to grab the phial, running back into Hermione's sitting room.
"Thank you," she managed to say, before uncorking the phial and tipping it into her mouth, not bothering, as she usually did, to measure it out in some semblance of neatness; she knew that there wasn't much left in it anyway.
"Odd...it's never been like that before," Hermione whispered, pain and concern creasing her face. "Something must have happened. Come with me, quickly." Not waiting for a response, Hermione grabbed Sev's hand and pulled him to the fireplace. "Incendio," she instructed. "Say it."
He waved his wand. "Incendio!"
The fire lit, and Hermione grasped a small porcelain jar of Floo powder. Taking a liberal pinch and hurling it into the fire, she said, "Staff parlour!" and pushed Sev in, following him closely.
They stumbled out into a neatly decorated room, with a large oval table in the centre and comfortable looking chairs around it. There were two doors and Hermione grabbed Sev's hand again. "Come on," she said, pain not hindering her ability to give orders. "Through the door. Go sit at your table. I'll be back soon. I'm sorry our meeting had to be cut short," she practically babbled, leading him to and then ushering the boy through the door.
"Are you - Do you have the..." Sev's question was lost as they emerged into the loud clamour of the Great Hall, and Hermione practically ran for Dumbledore.
"Albus," she gasped out, the exertion finally catching up with her. "I - I..."
She grabbed her head once more, the pain overtaking her in waves.
"Harry and Ron?" Dumbledore asked gravely, understanding.
"Yes," Hermione said through clenched teeth. The entire Great Hall had fallen quiet with her frantic entrance. Even Snape watched with morbid interest.
"Minerva and Poppy. Come here, help me." The two women at Dumbledore's left had already scraped back their chairs and rushed to Hermione's side before Dumbledore even finished verbalizing his command.
"Let's get you to Hogsmeade," Minerva murmured comfortingly, helping Hermione back into the staff parlour.
"Good luck," Dumbledore said, recognising his need to stay here and help keep things with the students under control.
Once Minerva, Poppy and Hermione were all in the staff parlour, they helped her Floo to The Three Broomsticks.
"You can go from here?" Minerva inquired, concerned, as they burst out of The Three Broomsticks' fireplace, much to the surprise of Madam Rosmerta.
"Emergency," Poppy explained breathlessly. "Sorry."
"It's alright. Is she okay?" Rosmerta bustled over, now joining the small huddle of women.
"I'll be fine," Hermione ground out, plunging her hand into her robes for her wand. "Please have Professor Snape cover the rest of my classes. I think he's got the afternoon off, tell him to cover..." Another spasm shook Hermione, pain flooding her face as she winced. "Tell him," she said, breaths ragged, "to cover the next lesson. NO HOMEWORK," she said firmly. "I'll be back by dinner. If not, send someone..."
Her last sentence faded away along with her body, as Hermione Apparated.