A Rose By Any Other Name.
By Kes.
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own the Harry Potter universe.
Hermione's address book was still in Professor Dumbledore's over sized pocket along with a variety of sweets, both muggle and magical and was making itself quite at home. She was supposed to get it today but no one had seen her yet and so in his pocket it stayed.
Hermione had had the address book for about a year. It was a battered old leather book with an elastic band keeping in some of the more used pages. Her mother had given it to her the year before in case she ever needed to contact anyone. Part of Hermione suspected that her mother could tell how much danger she was in and it saddened the young witch. Hermione had kept it knowing that at home there was the risk of it being 'lost' by her father, but promised to give it back at some point. She had left it in the very bottom of her suitcase for a while. Dissatisfied with that, she had shrunk it and placed it inside her magically-bound diary which was always close by her. Safe.
The day after the funeral Hermione was very down, as was expected and so it was decided that the Hogwarts staff would give her some space to mull things over. However, when she failed to reappear by dinnertime they began to worry.
"Someone should go and find her, Albus." Minerva stated, in a worried tone as they sat not eating their dinners.
He put down his still-clean fork. "Yes, I agree Minerva, I thought a little time to herself would do her good, but if she's not eating, then something must be done. Minerva, as her Head of House, I think you should go."
Minerva nodded in agreement but then her face saddened. "I'd like to Headmaster, but we've both got the meeting with Fudge in a few minutes, regarding Hermione's guardian in our world and that of the muggles, as well as that discussion we must have over the repercussions of her illegal use of magic outside of school."
"Ahh yes, I'd forgotten about that. I must be getting on in years, my memory's not as it used to be." There was a twinkle in his eye as he laughed gently.
Severus felt two pairs of eyes rest upon him. He had been waiting for this ever since he realised that no one else was coming to dinner. Clearly he had not been informed of something. The dining table suddenly got a lot smaller.
Cautiously, Severus looked up and raised an eyebrow at their expectant glances. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer." He said coldly.
And it'll no doubt move more as well Severus... thought Minerva, whilst giving him a cold glance.
Unfortunately - as he could tell from their un-perplexed, yet disturbingly cheery smiles - his attempt to deter them from their current line of thinking had failed. Apparently, they had grown resistant against his constant attempts at berating them. Curse my own sarcastic nature.
"Severus..." Minerva began.
"Yes?" He inquired, not making this any easier for her. Asking for a Slytherin's help was very low on Minerva's priority list, and, if he was lucky, she would probably die of shame.
He grinned inwardly.
She scowled.
"We need you to go and find Hermione. We can't go, as we've got a meeting with that damned Fudge, and since everyone else seems to have discovered the ability to have food and conversation without entering this room, I'm afraid the responsibility rests on you."
"'Afraid?'"
"Yes. Knowing you and you bitchy nature - " Severus again rose an eyebrow – he had never heard of himself being referred to as 'bitchy'. "- You'll make it worse for her than it already is. Be that as it may, we need to find her. She needs to be present for at least part of the meeting."
He sighed heavily, dramatically placing his fork down as he did so and picking up his coffee cup. "Alright. I'll go once I've finished. And I'll get a house elf to make some food for her."
Minerva inhaled deeply, as if preparing a 'what do you mean, no!' speech. She then looked shocked and a little disappointed.
Severus, seeing that he was on a winning streak against Minerva, continued: "And I suppose that due to your combined all-is-right-with-the-world natures, you've neglected the fact that the girl is most probably suicidal? Her life, from what I understand, has so far been made a living hell by the man who somehow manages to pass as her father, and he has also killed her mother, whose funeral was just yesterday. She may be an annoying little know-it-all, with the Gryffindor bravery that you both so much admire, but she is not indestructible...she may even be dangling in an unladylike manner from her ceiling right now - "
"Severus Snape! How dare you! - "
"Dare what? Think realistically? Come on now Minerva..." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He tried to ignore the slight yet ironic panic arising in his stomach from his own words.
Albus sighed, Will they ever stop bickering? "Children, children! Stop, please. I am sure Hermione is fine. She is not the type of person to do anything of harm without...thinking it through. And, despite his blunt nature, I do believe that Severus has a point. We can cast a checking-charm tonight, after the meeting. Now, however, you will go and check on her..." Although it sounded like a plea, Severus knew better than to ignore it.
"Yes Headmaster. Now, if you'll excuse me - " He rose from the table. " - I've got a handkerchief to get back."
Severus smiled curtly at them, enjoying their confusion and slowly made his way out of the door, heading towards the Gryffindor common room.
Minerva and Albus looked perplexed, and in together inquired: "Handkerchief?"
Severus stalked the corridors up to the fat lady portrait. The foreboding woman looked at him with an air of distaste and haughtily requested the password.
Severus sighed. "Capon." Why is their password a type of chicken! The fat lady looked at him suspiciously, and then slowly opened the portrait hole. "Oh, and have you seen Miss Granger?"
The fat lady 'hummphed' in reply, not trusting herself to talk to a Slytherin.
Severus rolled his yes theatrically. "Fine. I'll search for her on my own."
"You do that." She replied, shutting the door a little quicker than strictly necessary.
Severus swore lightly as she managed to pinch his ankle, hard, with her portrait.
He walked slowly around the corner, looking at the unlit fire, and searching around the room. No one was here. Severus knew that she was staying at the infirmary, so this red blood-soaked hell hole he thought morosely, would be practically uninhabited. He cursed his own stupidity, and looked around the dusty fireplace until he found what he was looking for. "Ahh, here it is."
He took out his wand, and pointed it at the small box. "Hafloramenta" he whispered the password, and was rewarded with the box spinning open to reveal floo powder. He tossed a pinch into the newly lit flames. "Infirmary".
Poppy's head appeared in the fire which was a somewhat disconcerting sight. "Is Miss Granger there?" "No Severus, why do you ask?" "Because I'm going to burn her at the stake for being a witch as soon as I see her in my sights." He replied dryly. She rolled her eyes. "Just asking." And she cut the communication. Does my sarcasm work on no one in this school any more? I believe I'm beginning to miss Longbottom...
Hermione sat in the library, tears staining the book that she was attempting to read.
The tears smudged the ancient writing into incomprehensible blobs.
Almost innately, she took out her wand and cleared the page for the third time in as many minutes. She smoothed over the page of the book before it wrinkled as it dried. As she put her wand back in her robes, she felt something smooth rub against her skin. Severus' handkerchief.
She gently caressed the delicate material, tracing his initials repeatedly, over and over again, almost hypnotically. As she did this, she wondered what was happening to her. She seemed to be falling for a teacher, but not just any; Severus Snape! A pureblooded-Slytherin who hated Gryffindors. Part of her knew that it was because he had helped her, because he was so understanding – surprisingly so – and that she needed a friend right now. Hermione had not yet told Harry and Ron, she could not think of how to at all…
Feeling the handkerchief once again, she thought back to how she had received it. He had handed it to her and had said nothing, because nothing needed to be said. He had not made a big deal out of her crying, instead just letting her deal with it on her own, but he was still there for her to rely on, if she needed him. Perhaps she was reading too much into such a simple gesture. But then she remembered his words and the look on his faced as he had said it.
"You're not alone." His words echoed in her mind. She had been surprised then that he had said that, with a sincerity that had stunned her and she was still surprised now. No matter what she thought she knew about him, she was generally wrong - or at least misguided.
Staring at the open book, she looked as though she were reading. However, underneath the table in her pocket, Hermione continued to handle the delicate material until she heard someone approach.
"So, here you are. I don't know why it didn't occur to me sooner that you'd be in your haven." He sat down opposite her. "I must admit, you're very good at hiding. I've spent the last hour searching for you."
After a few moments of silence, he became conscious of the fact that she had not looked at him yet, or even acknowledged his presence, and that she was staring intently at something on her lap. That panic he had felt earlier began to rise in him once more, and once more he chastised himself for feeling this way. It was not right; he should not be feeling like this towards her. He then realised that her lips were moving.
She whispered something incomprehensible.
"Pardon?"
She suddenly shot her head up, her fiery eyes boring into him, fresh with watery tears surrounding the outside. "God, you just like milking apologies for all they're worth, don't you? I said 'I'm sorry'. I know it's not exactly me on my knees, begging for mercy, but - " She silenced herself, and started to cry a little.
"Miss, Granger - " He tried hard not to be angry. She's just lost her mother, she can't help it. You're just an easy target. After all, you are a bastard. " - please believe me when I say that I honestly didn't hear you. You were looking at whatever that is in your lap, so I couldn't tell. And please, don't cry. I'm no good around over emotional females."
A ghost of a smile appeared over her features at the word 'females', slightly brightening her entire face. She does look lovely...No! Don't do this. You cannot feel this way, you do not! You are merely helping a student in need. You're going to be a gentleman and help her. Aren't you? His formidable inner voice commanded.
He noticed that she had lifted whatever it was out of lap, and onto the table between them. But her hands were covering it. "I believe that this is yours..." She said quietly. Taking a chance, she reached over with one hand - the other still covering the handkerchief - and took his hand in her own. He looked at her quizzically. She placed his hand over her own.
They both looked down at their hands, and absently he began to lightly caress her wrist with his thumb. He noticed that she did not flinch away from him. "You know. It may not seem like it now, but you will be all right in the end. I promise you. I know more about this than you might think."
She looked at him and smiled. "I never saw you as the type to know all the clichés by heart." Hermione gently pulled her hand away, as he lifted his own up.
His handkerchief.
He took it in his hands and rubbed over his initials. He looked up and saw her watching him intently.
"Thank you." She said quickly. He looked at her quizzically once again. "For yesterday, I mean. You didn't make a big deal out of me, well, you know, crying."
"Why would I? I mean, I may be a Slytherin, but I'm not totally heartless." She thought it was strange for him to be degrading his own house, but then again, Slytherin was once a proud house. Now it was house of the mini Death Eaters and ignorant fascists.
He carried on, seemingly not noticing her sense of wonder about his lack of love for his own house. "Your mother had died, Hermione, anyone would be upset by something like that." Neither seemed to notice that he had called her Hermione, it seemed almost natural.
"Come. We have to go to see Professor Dumbledore. Fudge is here to see you about your Guardian, if you'll need one, that is. And your attempted use of an Unforgivable curse."
Hermione paled visibly at the memory of what she had done, but got up determinedly, closing the book as she did so, but leaving it on the table for now.
There was a knock on the door.
"Ahh, I believe that must be them. Severus must have found her." Minerva arose from her seat a little too keenly. After a somewhat tense 'discussion' with Fudge, she needed to vent her frustration about the stupid little man with the stupid little bowler hat.
Hermione and Severus sat down quietly, Hermione was still pale.
"Ahh yes, Miss Granger. I'm glad you're here. We must discuss your guardianship, after the demise of your mother." Severus silently marvelled at Fudge's lack of subtlety or tact. He looked casually over at Hermione who had paled even more so, but had the familiar Gryffindor determinedness in her eyes.
I actually feel sorry for that man. He's trapped in the room with a hormonal, distressed teenager, an overly protective - almost motherly - Head of House, and Dumbledore. All Gryffindors. Then there's me. A Slytherin. In a class of my own.
The meeting went on, and it was decided that Hermione didn't actually require a Guardian. Fudge had belatedly realised that she was now eighteen due to her time turner use, and was therefore legal adult age in the wizarding world – the muggle world would be satisfied with Dumbledore as her guardian until her official eighteenth birthday in September, when she would actually be almost nineteen.
Well, that wasted ten minutes at least.
Other things, such as Hermione's new account at Gringotts, would have to be opened. She began to protest that she had no money to put in the account, until Dumbledore informed her that her mother had left her earnings to her, not her father. She had changed her will four months prior to her death.
"Now. We need to discuss something else. The repercussions of your use of the killing curse. I believe that you should spend some time in Azkaban, naturally, as it is against the law to use an Unforgivable, let alone on a defenceless muggle. It is only thanks to Dumbledore that you have had some time here at Hogwarts under his supervision. However, the jury will decide."
Hermione looked at him with a stare that would have made anyone diminish in size. Fudge shrank in his seat. Hermione rose from her chair, she had had enough. Having been sat in that same chair for at least half an hour listening to some bureaucratic fool dictate her life to her, she was now more than a little fed up.
" 'Defenceless muggle' ? Let me get this straight. You think, that my father has the right to kill my mother, and almost kill me, and I can stand by and do nothing? You think that as long as your head doesn't roll, anything can happen? It took you six months after Voldemort's murder - " Fudge flinched "- to capture Lucius Malfoy and chuck him into Azkaban where he belongs. And don't you dare flinch when you hear his name. It's just a name - the name of a dead man. And the next time I say Fudge, I will be saying the name of a dead man, unless you decide to actually clear those god forsaken glasses of yours, loosen the strap on that stupid bowler hat of yours -" Minerva grinned " - and give yourself a reality check.
There's this thing in the muggle world called 'self-defence'. Ok, so I did a little wandless magic. Hello? Do you not see the major fact here? Not only did a muggle-born school girl perform wandless magic and it worked but also the fact that a muggle was able to use a wand!
The man killed my mother! He made my life a living hell since I was able to walk, if not before. I think I showed amazing self-restraint! Instead of a court order, I think I should get an Order of Merlin."
Once again, Hermione was flushed, breathing erratically and realisation suddenly dawned upon her.
She had just sworn/belittled/sworn/disparaged the HEAD of the MINISTRY.
She sat down quietly, fuming at herself that she had had yet another outburst and this time it was not aimed at an erratic and senile old teacher. It was Fudge. I think I'm going to cry. Oh well. Might as well go out with a bang. Azkaban...I really didn't see that one coming.
Even now, she refused to tear her once again determined gaze away from the pompous man with the stupid bowler hat, her eyes ablaze, she left the Minister of Magic flustered and stuttering.
"Well the, I er, don't think you need to worry about your 'accident' Miss Granger." He was nervously fingering his bowler hat. "You said that your father used the wand? But he's a muggle? Hm, maybe you could tell me a little mor-" He stopped as he saw another death glare - from Snape.
Severus rolled his eyes as Fudge began stuttering again, and looked at Minerva. She raised her eyebrow at Severus in a disturbingly familiar way and smiled wickedly.
Hermione began to breathe in slowly and deeply. She closed her eyes. Oh my god, Severus Snape called me Hermione.