A Rose By Any Other Name.
By Kes.
Disclaimer: As ever, Harry Potter doesn't belong to me.
They arrived at Hogwarts roughly an hour later. Hermione had not said much since she realised that her mother was gone forever.
They had left her father unconscious on the floor, but Severus had phoned the police (after Hermione showed him how to use the pay phone down the street). He pretended to be a 'concerned neighbour calling about the welfare of the occupants of the house'. Hermione smiled a little as she heard him say this. He was trying to be as muggle as possible, and it was a step up from Ron's "HELLO IS HERMIONE THERE?" Although, now she thought about it, his voice was slightly elevated...
She had sat there, by her mother's body, for at least ten minutes. By the time she looked up, she realised that Snape had gone. She began to panic. She was alone, she didn't want to be alone with her father, conscious, or not. Her breath came in short, rapid breaths, and a little bit of sweat was formulating on her brow. Then she heard someone cursing quietly upstairs.
It was like deja-vu, she shuddered and instantly clamped her hands over her ears, silently begging them to stop.
"Miss Granger. What are doing?" The normally patronising and degrading voice seemed to be concerned.
"I heard you cursing upstairs. I guess it was...a little too familiar..." She whispered the last part, as if afraid of criticism. When she realised what had been implied, she cleared her throat and looked away. "What were you doing up there anyway?" She inquired suspiciously, giving him a sideways glance.
"I was gathering up your school things, do you wish to collect any other...personal... belongs?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Er, yes, yes I think I will. After all, I doubt that I can come back here again. I think I should take something's of my mothers. In case he takes them." She cast a disgusted glance at her father. She shuddered involuntarily.
Determinedly, she looked him in the eye. "What will happen now, sir?"
"I'm not sure Miss Granger. I'm not familiar with muggle police systems. We will go back to Hogwarts, and consult Professor Dumbledore."
The first thing that happened when they arrived was Madame Pomfrey bustling around, telling Severus to let her do her job. He protested, not allowing her to throw him out of the Hospital Wing, stating that Hermione was in an unstable condition and no one should be left alone with her.
Hermione lay on the bed not moving a muscle. She couldn't, even if she had wanted to. She just wanted to stay exactly where she was forever. Poppy healed her wounds with a multitude of spells and charms. Her ribs were still sore, and she had one hell of a black eye, one to make a sailor proud, but she still had the disgusting taste of a number of potions in her mouth.
To her memory, she had taken a General Healing potion, a Pepper-Up potion, some Skelegrow for her left arm and one of her ribs, a Cleansing potion to somehow take all impurities such as excess blood and foreign objects out of her system, a potion with a complicated name that had some disgusting pus in it, and finally a dreamless sleep draught. Why she had had a pepper up and a sleep draught, she didn't know. Nor did she care.
Six potions in one sitting, that must beat Harry's record... she mused morbidly to herself, wondering when the sleeping draught was going to kick in.
Now she was lying huddled in a ball in the hospital wing, hoping that she would never have to tell anyone what her 'life' was like. She did not want them to know. Hell, she didn't want to know. And she knew for definite that she did not want their pity.
Her mind whirled with a million questions. What's going to happen to my mum? Will I go to the funeral? What'll happen to dad? If he goes to court, will I have to give evidence? What's going to happen to the house? I can't believe this has happened. Oh my god.
I'm so alone.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey coming to check on her - again - with yet another potion/spell/book to read. I'm sure these potions have nothing in them; I haven't fallen asleep yet...
Madam Pomfrey was saying something, but she couldn't quite tell what, so she just winged it and gave her a weak smile.
"That's my girl."
She grimaced internally. Well that was easy. I hope that works on everyone.
Hermione had not said much since her dramatic arrival back at Hogwarts. Part of her was just too tired. Another part never wanted to talk again.
Madam Pomfrey stayed with Hermione that night, having managed to force Snape back to his own rooms; she sat on the chair by Hermione's bed until she fell asleep, somehow sensing the young girl's reluctance to be left alone.
The next morning, Professor Dumbledore came to see Hermione. He asked no questions about what had happened the night before. Obviously Snape's filled him in. She was glad for that. But he also did not ask her anything about what happened prior to last nights events. Hermione was thankful.
I don't think I know that myself.
"I need to discuss with you your use of …an Unforgivable…it was traced by the ministry, dear, Severus told me nothing." He said, in response to her look of indignation. "However, they now know what happened at your house and the fact that he…killed…your mother. I'm working on getting you out of a possible court appearance. Don't worry, Cornelius knows how to play Quidditch, as they say…" He remained quiet for a minute, hoping she would say something, but Hermione was mute.
"Now, I went to see the police this morning, explaining that I was your Headmaster - "
Hermione sat wide-eyed, mouth gaping open, as if she were about to say something.
"Don't worry dear; I said that it was a boarding school slightly north of London." He paused. "I just didn't say how far north." His eyes twinkled as he was rewarded with a small but genuine smile from Hermione, but still no words. "Anyway, I explained to them that you were staying with us as you have no other family to stay with -"
The rest of what he said to her was blocked out. She had not thought of that.
Hermione was an only child, as were her parents. Her Grandparents on her mother's side had died before she was born, and her father's mother died when she was four, and her grandfather when she was six.
She was alone.
In the wizarding world.
All alone.
With hardly any money.
Dumbledore noticed that she had gone off into her own world when he had said she had no other family. Unfortunately, it hadn't occurred to him that Hermione had not yet thought of that. Although, he of course did not mind that her mind had wandered off, he thought she was going to yell at him, or something, anything. But she didn't say a word.
Minutes passed by, when she finally looked up, eyes focused and a little teary. "What will happen to my father?" She asked, voice groggy, as if she had just woken up. Dumbledore noticed the sound of distaste and disgust at the word 'father', but tried to ignore it.
"He was taken into police custody early this morning after the 'anonymous phone call' they received, and has been charged with manslaughter. I believe that due to the evidence in your house and statements from your neighbours, he will most likely plead guilty and so the trial should be shift."
Hermione's eyes lit up angrily. "'Manslaughter'! That 'man' killed my mother! It was no accident…I can assure you, he knew exactly what he was doing..." She stopped just as suddenly as she had started. She had almost told him. Almost.
She refused to cry. Hermione was so angry, she did not know what to do or say. So instead she said nothing. Instead, she grabbed the pillow off the bed and pounded it repeatedly and finally threw it against the far wall, exhausted.
Professor Dumbledore remained silent.
After her little 'outburst' in the infirmary, she asked if she could go on a walk to clear her head. Professor Dumbledore agreed. "You've got an hour. I want you to be back by then please." His eyes sparkled, and although Hermione knew it sounded like a request, she knew better than to disagree with him.
Her walk was rather uneventful. Mercifully, she had managed to miss the other teachers who were still here despite it being the summer months, although she had a sneaking feeling that Professor Dumbledore had something to do with that. There was something eerie about an empty school, no children around. The feeling of loneliness suddenly dawning on her, Hermione quickened her pace.
As Hermione walked quickly back to the Hospital Wing - she had five minutes left until her 'curfew' - she contemplated her reasoning.
She thought about it, repeated what had happened again and again in her mind, and still, she had no idea what had possessed her to pour her heart out, to Snape, of all people!
He had to be the most patronising person on the planet, but still, she had done it anyway, and there was nothing she could do about it...
Briefly, the thought of a potion or spell to alter his memory flitted through her mind, only to be pushed aside once again as she chastised herself for thinking of doing that to a teacher.
There was a nervous knock on the door. Anyone without Severus' acute hearing would have probably missed it. Perhaps that was what Hermione had wanted. At least that way, she would have been able to say 'Well, I did try to speak to him'.
"Come in."
Damn, that man has good hearing.
Hermione opened the door ridiculously slowly; the usual creaking absent due to her careful nature.
"Sir? Can I...speak to you please?" She suddenly realised he was grading papers and wondered what on earth he could be marking this far into the summer. This was forgotten, however, as soon as they made eye contact and she felt fear rise in her throat as though she were eleven again.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Regarding?"
This was both an improvement and also incredibly stupid on his part.
What do you think? My mother is dead, and my father's being charge, but I just wanted to ask you something about my god-damn NEWTS...
She had expected something along the lines of 'no, go away you silly girl'. But as ever, Snape lived to disappoint.
Why the hell am I here!
She inhaled deeply. "Regarding the circumstances of my premature arrival back at Hogwarts." That had taken her a while to think up whilst lying in bed in the Hospital Wing, as she tried to make it sound as formal as possible, trying to eliminate any form of emotion from her voice.
He actually looked surprised.
Under any other circumstances, she would have smirked at the idea of him, ex-death eater and feared Potions master being surprised. But not right now. At this moment, it passed her by. It was only in retrospect did she notice his momentary lapse in his facade. Or perhaps she had added it to the memory, to make him more human.
"Follow me." He rose from his seat behind his desk, and walked to the right, by the bookcase. Well, it was a bookcase, until you walked near it. Then it was a passageway. Funny, she could not remember seeing that here before. Perhaps it was new…
She followed him down the short passageway until they came upon a door.
His office.
"Please, sit down." She did as she was told, whilst surveying her new surroundings. Everything was dark green, naturally, she mused.
He stood with his back to her, apparently making some sort of beverage – she assumed it was tea – and she wondered why he was being so civilised to the know-it-all. He turned around with a cup in his hand, something she never thought she would see in her lifetime.
As she sipped the tea that he had silently offered her, Hermione looked down at her cup, attempting to swallow the tears that were welling up inside her, and also her pride. She had to tell someone, and Snape seemed like a logical choice: he had been there, seen what had happened, so she wouldn't have to tell him the whole story.
Finally she looked him in the eye, once again she felt something like fear wash through her, his eyes were far too intense for her right now. "I don't know how to say this without sounding like a madwoman, or a loser, or perhaps both, so I'm just going to blurt it out and say it. Ok?" She stopped talking and focused on his face and saw him nod curiously, signifying that she should continue.
"Alright, er, well, you already know that I've been 'abused' at home." She looked at him, grateful that she did not see pity in his eyes, only curiosity. She pushed the tears down that were trying to come up to the surface yet again and now refused to look him in the eye.
"I guess that the logical place I should start at is the beginning." She said, half to herself.
"Yes, that would seem 'logical' Miss Granger." As he yet again raised his eyebrow, she thought he looked like Spock – she doubted he would be impressed with such an analogy. She smiled inwardly.
"Ok. I guess my life's sort of always been like this." She pointed at her black eye. "Only, on the inside."
At his puzzled look, she carried on.
"Ok, so that wasn't the best way to describe it. A bit too…twee." She cleared her throat. "My father used to...call me names. I, I know...that sounds stupid, but imagine being an eight year old child, scared to death because you keep exploding things and levitating things without knowing why, having few friends, already being naturally - almost painfully - shy, and having your father telling you that you're a piece of worthless shit all the time." She looked down at her cup of tea and sipped it quietly, not knowing where else to go.
"Then imagine coming home from school early one day because of a teachers strike, and seeing your parents arguing so much that your father slaps your mother across the face, and coming after you. I was only ten." She paused, and looked up at him, her voice wobbling only slightly. "Ten, when he first hit me. Before all that, it was just names, but then I saw what happened to mum. So now, it's my turn."
Her eyes clouded over, as if recalling a memory and Severus had a feeling that she was quoting the bastard that somehow passed as a father. He kept silent, deciding to let her carry on and get this all out. Briefly he wondered why she had decided to tell him and not Minerva. Not that he particularly minded.
"When I got the letter from Hogwarts, I showed it to mum first. She was thrilled. We went to get all my school stuff from Diagon Alley, and came back to find my father with the letter in his hand.
He had new ammunition. Now I really was a freak. He had been proven right by people he never knew even existed. All through the holidays, he kept hitting me, and calling me names. I think the names were the worst part, because I couldn't prove it to anyone.
The reason why I was such a 'know-it-all' when I came here, was because I wanted to prove to everyone that I could do it. I was intelligent. I wasn't a freak. I wanted people to like me for who I was. I didn't want to fear anyone, not even Voldemort. Obviously, he scared me at first, but I figured that all he could do was kill me. That's it. And what's so wrong with dying?
The only people who fear death are those who've got something to live for. I didn't. And I still don't.
It didn't occur to me for a few weeks that my mother was still there. At home. With him. She sent me letters, and it seemed as if things were calming down. When I went home for Christmas, he was nice. When I went home, he was always nice.
That's what scared me.
It's like being in the room with a bomb, waiting for it to go off, but not knowing how to activate or deactivate it. If you make one wrong move, one wrong sound, boom!
You're dead. Or worse.
No one's ever seen the bruises I've had, I still have...I've become increasingly good at masking charms over the years. I learnt it in my first year - another of my books from the library.
The bruises were everywhere, but rarely on my face. People would see. He knew I was too embarrassed to shows people the others. My wrist hurt for a few weeks at the beginning of each year, it's like a tradition. Thank god we have long summer holidays. I couldn't risk too much magic at home, so I had to have a horrible bulky cast. Each year, almost as soon as I got home, he'd have a new and 'interesting' way to injure my wand arm, each year worse than the proceeding one. It was like that's all he thought about for an entire year.
Then he'd try to be nice to me. As soon as he broke the wrist, he'd feign remorse. He did have the occasional slip, he'd yell at me, and once or twice, mainly for no real reason, and I'd stupidly yell back. He threatened not to let me come back here. I pointed my wand at him. He said he'd seen the letter saying that I wasn't allowed to do magic. I said to him that he wasn't allowed to hurt me, but he did, so rule-breaking must be a family thing. I did a simple petrificus spell two years ago, on Crookshanks poor little guy, to prove it to him. The ministry didn't notice, they had Voldemort to handle. And now I'm alone."
She finally took a breath, and noticed that she had somehow finished her tea. Hermione suddenly realised that Snape hadn't said a word. Now she felt like an utter fool, she ahd just opened up to the one man who would never give a damn unless she put the sorting back on her head and it shouted "Slytherin!". She looked up finally, trying to wipe a tear away casually and saw Snape staring at her intently.
Once again she abruptly broke the eye contact, looking down at the floor. "Ok, since I've got that off my chest, I'll leave you in peace."
She hastily got up to leave, cheeks burning bright red in embarrassment - she hadn't meant to tell him that much. She put down the cup and turned around.
"Miss Granger..."
She turned back slowly, avoiding his eyes. "Yes?" She asked, in a quivering voice, trying desperately not to fall onto the floor into a ball of tears.
"You're not alone."