A/N
Okay, new chapter, starting with a note to say that the previous ones have been altered slightly. The author's note has also changed a bit.
After doing a rewrite on the story possession I have uploaded it as a prologue to this story - some important details have changed, like Hermione being in the seventh year, and 18, and Snape never having had a wife. I really didn't like that idea (sorry, liquidsilver) as I want him all to myself.
There are superficial changes to 'Unravelling' and 'Phraseology', that are more continuity details than anything else. Snape's reasons for wanting to die have changed totally in 'The Bargain' needs a re-read or you will be lost and 'Cloud-Burst' is unchanged.
Right, back to the story. I suppose I ought to explain the cheerier outlook on today being results day, and me now officially going to university. The depressed angst will be back soon I guess.
Love to everyone - for today at least. Photis.
Chapter 5: Letters from the Soul.
By the time, Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room, it was virtually empty, and she crossed to the girls' staircase without having to answer any awkward questions.
Ron, it seemed, had given up his vigil and gone to bed with the rest of the boys in his dormitory when Harry had returned from his detention. She had been right in her assessment of where his loyalties would lie if he were pushed to choose.
Ron was behaving as predictably as usual.
Harry, however was not, and therein lay the problem.
Upon reaching her own room, Hermione retired to the solitude it afforded and allowed her analytical mind to take over, once she was sure she had double locked the door behind her.
Despite what Trelawny had said about her in their third year, Hermione had developed a strong sense of perception where other people were concerned. Had she not been a witch it would have probably been called intuition, but recently it had taken a more visual form. Perhaps it had come from a life of standing outside the group looking in, trying to discern what was going on, and developed by an understanding gleaned from the Restricted Section.
But wherever it had come from, the fact remained that Hermione was able to see the energy flowing through every person she came into contact with, the normally soft glow that formed their chi as it was known in martial arts, their inner strength in pop-psychology.
It was generally stronger in magical people, but still visible in Muggles, and the likes of Dumbledore were virtually blinding. Snape was fairly bright too, come to mention it.
It provided her a useful insight into other people's motivations - it flowed freely when they acted voluntarily and with confidence. It uncovered lies and deceptions for her unerringly. Hermione rarely got caught out in a faux pas of wizarding society, despite her Muggle parentage, these days.
Tonight, though, it was Harry's chi that was bothering her. It was wildly fluctuating for the most part, showing only tiny flickers here and there that marked out that anything suspicious was going on. Up to now she'd ignored them as meaningless.
Fool, look where that got you. Never assume.
But both times in the tower, the tiny flickers had become raging infernos that had fractured Harry's chi into disjointed pieces.
And Hermione had a good idea what - or more precisely - who was causing the fissures.
She just needed to prove it, understand it. And then figure out a way to use it to her advantage.
Lucky she was in a position to cross-examine the resident authority on Voldemort and emotional turmoil. And what was his phrase? The darker side of the character.
She just needed to kick of with an apology. And an opening gambit.
Her mind began to click through infinite combinations of the variables, trying to assess the practicality and likelihood of success of each one before moving on.
This was what she did best - self pity wasn't really an indulgence she allowed herself.
After an indefinite passage of time she drifted into a deep and exhausted sleep. There was the glimmering of a plan forming, just outside the range of her vision. Like all the best plans, she just let it develop unhindered and unobserved.
Once she was sure it was a plan that involved Snape wanting to see her again, that was.
* * *
Breakfast had been an unremarkable affair. Harry was not there. Ron avoided her eyes. She wondered what had been said.
What Harry had made up.
Neither was professor Snape there to receive the letter she had spent a good deal of the early morning, when woken by disturbing dreams, composing. She even found writing to him therapeutic.
So after a hurried but by no means meagre breakfast - she had a raison d'ĂȘtre, now and starving herself or pinning over her plate, playing with food was unproductive - she headed back up to the common room. Care of Magical Creatures had been cancelled - courtesy she presumed to Harry's detention.
This assumption was confirmed as the boy himself walked through the portrait hole to the applause of his fellow seventh years who had a free lesson due to him. Apparently the story had been paraded out last night on his return.
The Quiffers - Hagrid's new acquisitions - were apparently cute and cuddly until faced with bushy hair and fluff - upon which provocation they attacked and attempted to drag the offending article back for nest building.
Hagrid had been keeping his own hair slicked back with axel greased and encased under a headscarf that could double as a tent, and making sure that fang stayed inside when the Quiffers came out. However he neglected to consider just how offensive the Quiffers would find Harry's untidy locks, and Harry had been luck not to loose an eye.
In the ensuing confusion, several of the Quiffers had made a bid for freedom, and although one had been located (unfortunately) before decimating Mrs Norris, quite a few needed to be found, before they found Dumbledore's beard.
Hence Hagrid being otherwise occupied. And the applause.
For the first time, the simple ease with which Harry found himself at the centre of the drama, and looking good in it, really bothered Hermione.
This, she decided was a suitably large audience. With Lavender and Pavarati in attendance, the news would have reached Outer Mongolia by lunchtime. Catching Harry's eye she moved pointedly to a seat with another free chair beside it, and sat down.
On cue, Harry sidled over.
Let him start, she thought, I've made the opening move.
And he did, his voice lowered to a level that would be inaudible even a few paces away.
"Hermione I wanted to say I was sorry again. I know it seems like I'm always apologising, but I don't know what came over me in the tower, the second time. Or the first time, come to think of it." *No you don't, but I do.*
"And I wanted to say that I realise you don't want to be anywhere near me - now or ever - but - "
"But what are we going to do about a friendship that has suddenly ceased to exist at the same time as I go missing for a day?"
"Yeah"
"Well, first up, your going to laugh like you've just made a joke on how endangered by Quiffers my hair is, and then you're going to follow my lead and play along."
She stares at him, daring him to disagree. He nods his head meekly. And begins to chuckle softly.
"I don't think that's funny." Hermione's voice was clear and firm.
"Oh, have a sense of humour for once. Of course it's funny."
"No, it's not. In fact it's the kind of comment I would expect from Malfoy, not you." Pitch rising slightly.
A shrug of Harry's shoulders.
"I suppose even Malfoy can speak the truth on occasions."
"That wasn't the truth - it was an INSULT!"
Another shrug, and that boyish grin that was really ignoring her.
"So that's it" Witness Hermione's attempt to reign in her temper.
Silence
"You're taking this too seriously. Try and be reasonable."
"Since when did you value reason? You're the one that sneaks everywhere under your invisibility cloak and has to be the centre of every adventure and everyone else's attention." Witness her failure at temper management, as she begins to shout.
"I valued reason since it got me out of pointless arguments."
Ow. That hurt. That really hurt - I don't care if we're playing. And he's too calm. And the seams of those fractures are showing in his chi. Time to wrap it up.
"So my opinions are pointless now?"
"That was what I said. Go figure."
"FINE. SEE IF I CARE" with which she flounced off towards the dormitory.
A little childish, but then so was not talking to him over a petty row. Childish was good. Childish was necessary.
She slammed the door to her room.
Sinking down onto his bed, she sat a moment in silence. Then and only then, she allowed herself to cry.
* * *
Meanwhile Snape was in his rooms, reading and rereading her letter, trying to draft an appropriate reply.
The words of need, desperation, self-hatred he wanted to write kept loosing their bite to irrelevant expressions of affection for his Angel of Mercy.
Best they stayed where they were. He had no claim on her. She may be an angel, but he had no right to call her his angel.
Instead, he read the letter again, as students moved around him, copying notes and whispering. He had given them something even Longbottom would be able to do unsupervised, to allow him to divert his attention elsewhere.
Dear Professor Snape (said the letter, in elegant script)
I suppose first and foremost I ought to apologise for my anger and reticence last night - and all the other emotions you undoubtedly picked up off me. I was on something of a roller-coaster. I know that you really were, and are, trying to help me, regardless of what you might stand to gain from the situation.
I had no right to judge you so harshly, and I have a confession to make. Last night on the ledge, when I first stepped up I had every intention of jumping. Then I waited for you to follow me, so that you could either witness my final moments or save me from them. I wanted to know that someone cared. It had taken nearly twenty-four hours for a search to be mounted, despite the supposedly dangerous times. I suppose you are used to burying your (and I mean that collectively) pupils by now.
I could have been dead before anyone noticed that I was gone. That realisation hurt. I needed an ego-boost. Thank you for providing it.
However, intentionally I suspect, you provided me with more than that, you gave me a diversion, and a puzzle, which I could not resist. I don't think you meant to give me a purpose, but you did.
I wish I could have explained this to you last night, but I was so entangled in not saying anything I'd come to regret, words didn't seem to come out right. You seemed to have a high opinion of my essays - so I decided on this route instead. I don't think I'd have the strength to say all this to your face - one insightful question and I'd crumble. Writing is easier.
Committing words to paper, for someone in my position, who has a secret to keep, might not seem the best of ideas. But I trust you. When you said you respected me and my decisions, I believed you.
I don't think I could endure another betrayal. If there is a chance of you using this letter against me, burn it when a mood of conscientiousness or remorse takes you. I leave the decision to your discretion.
And after that somewhat unwieldy introduction, I'll get to the point. I think I have an explanation as to events that relies less heavily on a sudden degeneration of Harry's morals and character than you seem to favour. I'd like to run it past you so you can tell be if I'm making up a fairy story, just because I want to believe it.
It is perhaps more than even Gryffindor naivety can allow to put the details in this letter. Is there a chance we can meet again? To discuss the idea I mentioned, of course.
Regards,
Hermione Granger.
* * *
Take you courage in both hands, Severus. Say she can see you any time she likes, regardless of what's going on in her mind.
No. Resort to the acerbic and distant style that has kept you safe thus far.
Miss Granger
You are required to serve detention for your absence in my class yesterday afternoon. There is a eyesight-improving potion to concoct. Should any time remain I would be amenable to hear any thoughts you have on other matters.
Your attendance will be required at 8pm, this evening in the potions classroom.
Professor S. Snape
Okay, new chapter, starting with a note to say that the previous ones have been altered slightly. The author's note has also changed a bit.
After doing a rewrite on the story possession I have uploaded it as a prologue to this story - some important details have changed, like Hermione being in the seventh year, and 18, and Snape never having had a wife. I really didn't like that idea (sorry, liquidsilver) as I want him all to myself.
There are superficial changes to 'Unravelling' and 'Phraseology', that are more continuity details than anything else. Snape's reasons for wanting to die have changed totally in 'The Bargain' needs a re-read or you will be lost and 'Cloud-Burst' is unchanged.
Right, back to the story. I suppose I ought to explain the cheerier outlook on today being results day, and me now officially going to university. The depressed angst will be back soon I guess.
Love to everyone - for today at least. Photis.
Chapter 5: Letters from the Soul.
By the time, Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room, it was virtually empty, and she crossed to the girls' staircase without having to answer any awkward questions.
Ron, it seemed, had given up his vigil and gone to bed with the rest of the boys in his dormitory when Harry had returned from his detention. She had been right in her assessment of where his loyalties would lie if he were pushed to choose.
Ron was behaving as predictably as usual.
Harry, however was not, and therein lay the problem.
Upon reaching her own room, Hermione retired to the solitude it afforded and allowed her analytical mind to take over, once she was sure she had double locked the door behind her.
Despite what Trelawny had said about her in their third year, Hermione had developed a strong sense of perception where other people were concerned. Had she not been a witch it would have probably been called intuition, but recently it had taken a more visual form. Perhaps it had come from a life of standing outside the group looking in, trying to discern what was going on, and developed by an understanding gleaned from the Restricted Section.
But wherever it had come from, the fact remained that Hermione was able to see the energy flowing through every person she came into contact with, the normally soft glow that formed their chi as it was known in martial arts, their inner strength in pop-psychology.
It was generally stronger in magical people, but still visible in Muggles, and the likes of Dumbledore were virtually blinding. Snape was fairly bright too, come to mention it.
It provided her a useful insight into other people's motivations - it flowed freely when they acted voluntarily and with confidence. It uncovered lies and deceptions for her unerringly. Hermione rarely got caught out in a faux pas of wizarding society, despite her Muggle parentage, these days.
Tonight, though, it was Harry's chi that was bothering her. It was wildly fluctuating for the most part, showing only tiny flickers here and there that marked out that anything suspicious was going on. Up to now she'd ignored them as meaningless.
Fool, look where that got you. Never assume.
But both times in the tower, the tiny flickers had become raging infernos that had fractured Harry's chi into disjointed pieces.
And Hermione had a good idea what - or more precisely - who was causing the fissures.
She just needed to prove it, understand it. And then figure out a way to use it to her advantage.
Lucky she was in a position to cross-examine the resident authority on Voldemort and emotional turmoil. And what was his phrase? The darker side of the character.
She just needed to kick of with an apology. And an opening gambit.
Her mind began to click through infinite combinations of the variables, trying to assess the practicality and likelihood of success of each one before moving on.
This was what she did best - self pity wasn't really an indulgence she allowed herself.
After an indefinite passage of time she drifted into a deep and exhausted sleep. There was the glimmering of a plan forming, just outside the range of her vision. Like all the best plans, she just let it develop unhindered and unobserved.
Once she was sure it was a plan that involved Snape wanting to see her again, that was.
* * *
Breakfast had been an unremarkable affair. Harry was not there. Ron avoided her eyes. She wondered what had been said.
What Harry had made up.
Neither was professor Snape there to receive the letter she had spent a good deal of the early morning, when woken by disturbing dreams, composing. She even found writing to him therapeutic.
So after a hurried but by no means meagre breakfast - she had a raison d'ĂȘtre, now and starving herself or pinning over her plate, playing with food was unproductive - she headed back up to the common room. Care of Magical Creatures had been cancelled - courtesy she presumed to Harry's detention.
This assumption was confirmed as the boy himself walked through the portrait hole to the applause of his fellow seventh years who had a free lesson due to him. Apparently the story had been paraded out last night on his return.
The Quiffers - Hagrid's new acquisitions - were apparently cute and cuddly until faced with bushy hair and fluff - upon which provocation they attacked and attempted to drag the offending article back for nest building.
Hagrid had been keeping his own hair slicked back with axel greased and encased under a headscarf that could double as a tent, and making sure that fang stayed inside when the Quiffers came out. However he neglected to consider just how offensive the Quiffers would find Harry's untidy locks, and Harry had been luck not to loose an eye.
In the ensuing confusion, several of the Quiffers had made a bid for freedom, and although one had been located (unfortunately) before decimating Mrs Norris, quite a few needed to be found, before they found Dumbledore's beard.
Hence Hagrid being otherwise occupied. And the applause.
For the first time, the simple ease with which Harry found himself at the centre of the drama, and looking good in it, really bothered Hermione.
This, she decided was a suitably large audience. With Lavender and Pavarati in attendance, the news would have reached Outer Mongolia by lunchtime. Catching Harry's eye she moved pointedly to a seat with another free chair beside it, and sat down.
On cue, Harry sidled over.
Let him start, she thought, I've made the opening move.
And he did, his voice lowered to a level that would be inaudible even a few paces away.
"Hermione I wanted to say I was sorry again. I know it seems like I'm always apologising, but I don't know what came over me in the tower, the second time. Or the first time, come to think of it." *No you don't, but I do.*
"And I wanted to say that I realise you don't want to be anywhere near me - now or ever - but - "
"But what are we going to do about a friendship that has suddenly ceased to exist at the same time as I go missing for a day?"
"Yeah"
"Well, first up, your going to laugh like you've just made a joke on how endangered by Quiffers my hair is, and then you're going to follow my lead and play along."
She stares at him, daring him to disagree. He nods his head meekly. And begins to chuckle softly.
"I don't think that's funny." Hermione's voice was clear and firm.
"Oh, have a sense of humour for once. Of course it's funny."
"No, it's not. In fact it's the kind of comment I would expect from Malfoy, not you." Pitch rising slightly.
A shrug of Harry's shoulders.
"I suppose even Malfoy can speak the truth on occasions."
"That wasn't the truth - it was an INSULT!"
Another shrug, and that boyish grin that was really ignoring her.
"So that's it" Witness Hermione's attempt to reign in her temper.
Silence
"You're taking this too seriously. Try and be reasonable."
"Since when did you value reason? You're the one that sneaks everywhere under your invisibility cloak and has to be the centre of every adventure and everyone else's attention." Witness her failure at temper management, as she begins to shout.
"I valued reason since it got me out of pointless arguments."
Ow. That hurt. That really hurt - I don't care if we're playing. And he's too calm. And the seams of those fractures are showing in his chi. Time to wrap it up.
"So my opinions are pointless now?"
"That was what I said. Go figure."
"FINE. SEE IF I CARE" with which she flounced off towards the dormitory.
A little childish, but then so was not talking to him over a petty row. Childish was good. Childish was necessary.
She slammed the door to her room.
Sinking down onto his bed, she sat a moment in silence. Then and only then, she allowed herself to cry.
* * *
Meanwhile Snape was in his rooms, reading and rereading her letter, trying to draft an appropriate reply.
The words of need, desperation, self-hatred he wanted to write kept loosing their bite to irrelevant expressions of affection for his Angel of Mercy.
Best they stayed where they were. He had no claim on her. She may be an angel, but he had no right to call her his angel.
Instead, he read the letter again, as students moved around him, copying notes and whispering. He had given them something even Longbottom would be able to do unsupervised, to allow him to divert his attention elsewhere.
Dear Professor Snape (said the letter, in elegant script)
I suppose first and foremost I ought to apologise for my anger and reticence last night - and all the other emotions you undoubtedly picked up off me. I was on something of a roller-coaster. I know that you really were, and are, trying to help me, regardless of what you might stand to gain from the situation.
I had no right to judge you so harshly, and I have a confession to make. Last night on the ledge, when I first stepped up I had every intention of jumping. Then I waited for you to follow me, so that you could either witness my final moments or save me from them. I wanted to know that someone cared. It had taken nearly twenty-four hours for a search to be mounted, despite the supposedly dangerous times. I suppose you are used to burying your (and I mean that collectively) pupils by now.
I could have been dead before anyone noticed that I was gone. That realisation hurt. I needed an ego-boost. Thank you for providing it.
However, intentionally I suspect, you provided me with more than that, you gave me a diversion, and a puzzle, which I could not resist. I don't think you meant to give me a purpose, but you did.
I wish I could have explained this to you last night, but I was so entangled in not saying anything I'd come to regret, words didn't seem to come out right. You seemed to have a high opinion of my essays - so I decided on this route instead. I don't think I'd have the strength to say all this to your face - one insightful question and I'd crumble. Writing is easier.
Committing words to paper, for someone in my position, who has a secret to keep, might not seem the best of ideas. But I trust you. When you said you respected me and my decisions, I believed you.
I don't think I could endure another betrayal. If there is a chance of you using this letter against me, burn it when a mood of conscientiousness or remorse takes you. I leave the decision to your discretion.
And after that somewhat unwieldy introduction, I'll get to the point. I think I have an explanation as to events that relies less heavily on a sudden degeneration of Harry's morals and character than you seem to favour. I'd like to run it past you so you can tell be if I'm making up a fairy story, just because I want to believe it.
It is perhaps more than even Gryffindor naivety can allow to put the details in this letter. Is there a chance we can meet again? To discuss the idea I mentioned, of course.
Regards,
Hermione Granger.
* * *
Take you courage in both hands, Severus. Say she can see you any time she likes, regardless of what's going on in her mind.
No. Resort to the acerbic and distant style that has kept you safe thus far.
Miss Granger
You are required to serve detention for your absence in my class yesterday afternoon. There is a eyesight-improving potion to concoct. Should any time remain I would be amenable to hear any thoughts you have on other matters.
Your attendance will be required at 8pm, this evening in the potions classroom.
Professor S. Snape
