Chapter Three
Dreams
A hunched figure sat unmoving at her richly coated mahogany desk that was set
against the back window of her small office. Her head bent aside, she scribbled
notes and made study plans for the upcoming school year. The sharp scratching
of her quill against the thin layers of ecru parchment and the chronic ticking
of the cerulean porcelain clock on the office mantelpiece were the only
palpable sounds heard in the darkly lit room.
Her mind was fixed on the graceful movements of her quill as it jotted her
thoughts down on parchment, and after a while of unswerving concentration,
Hermione started when the antique clock chimed softly behind her. She sat up
immediately and craned her neck round to check the time before the chiming of
the antique clock sounded three o'clock. She dropped her quill and sighed
softly as she reminded herself of how long she had been working. Unaware of how
exhausted she was, Hermione leaned on the rigid back of her chair and gazed
over her night's work. She felt a sense of relief because she had gotten most
of her notes out of the way. She wasn't one to wait until the last minute to
get something done, especially when it came to her students.
"Seven consecutive hours," she whispered to herself in a self-accusing murmur.
Hermione knew she had to get some rest, but she had promised herself she
wouldn't put her notes off for another day, even though the new school year was
not for another month. Exhausted, Hermione flexed her neck sideways to loosen
her stiff muscles and ran her hand behind her nape to ease the tension in her
shoulders.
There were a few more parchments to look through and notes to make before she
was done for the night. It was a good thing she had gotten most of her work out
of the way earlier in the summer. Her fellow Professors kept telling her that
she had to find more things to do during the break other than shuffling through
paperwork and making student plans for the upcoming school year. Being back at
Hogwarts would take some getting used to. Though she had lived there for seven
years, Hogwarts was not a place one could ever get used to, no matter how long
one lived there.
Hermione had to remind herself every day of what on earth convinced her to come
back to the place despite the promise she made to herself those years ago to
never to return. She had dreaded coming back, and though she had been teaching
for only two years, the time seemed to drag on at a much slower pace than that.
She had not changed much throughout the years. She had gained a few inches around
the waist, and a few in height, as well. She kept her thick hair in a tight bun
at all times, which induced the pulling on her thin taut face. Her soft eyes
seemed to have lost its sparkle and had turned into unsympathetic glaring
mechanisms. She was just as strict a Professor as she was Head Girl those years
ago, though more ascetic and austere in appearance now that she was the Potions
mistress. Such a position required stringent comportment to ensure her students
remained on their best behavior, and acquire the profound knowledge for such a
complex course. Her consistent studying habits had not changed either. Hermione
spent most, if not all, her nights in her office marking papers, making notes,
and going over unnecessary paperwork.
She sighed softly and leaned forward to gently rest her forehead on the hard
polished surface of her desk as her body signaled desperately to her mind of
its exhaustion. She stared vaguely down at her hands tucked habitually into her
thighs as her mind flashed from one thought to another too quickly to be
discerned individually. In between thoughts, a distant voice warned her not to
fall asleep. She knew very well the dreams she had when she fell asleep so
suddenly, especially now that she was back in Hogwarts. Seven years she had
spent there, sheltered from any dangers lurking outside. She had even come to
love and call it her only home. But it wasn't long after that that she had
cursed the place and damned it to hell. Even its magically shielded walls could
not have protected her from the one peril that assailed her those years ago.
She hated thinking about it. She hated Hogwarts, and everything about it. Too
many memories lingered there. Too many tears had she cried there, as well.
Hermione forced herself to a clear mind before recollections of her past life
at Hogwarts came back to her and infuriated her.
Pulling her hands from her thighs and nestling her head into her arms, Hermione
lousily fought her sleep as she rested her head comfortably in the fleshy niche
of her arm. Lulled by the rapid flashing of her distant thoughts, her eyes
batted in a languid manner until she finally gave in and drifted off into a
deep slumber.
…Wisps of color swirled all around Hermione as her vague dreams became more
clearly by the moment…
Panegyrical praises sounded out in the Great Hall as the last moments for the seventh years at Hogwarts neared to an end. Each Head of House led their students to their Houses following their final great feast, and after a round of encomia and great thanks, the students were free to do as they pleased.
"For those of you who are staying behind," McGonagall called out
through the buzz and horde of teeming students, "please insist on helping
Madame Pince with her request – with her request," she repeated as swarms of
seventh years nearly knocked her down as they pushed their way past her, "for
organizing some of the used books we are donating to the Hogervow Institution."
No one seemed to pay heed, for not one student was staying behind.
"…Hurry, Hermione! They're waiting for us at the pub," a distant familiar voice
called out, though the face was too blurry to make out.
"You guys go on, I have a lot of things to do here," she lied. The great halls
of Hogwarts Hermione leaned against in her dream had suddenly disappeared as
bright sunrays pierced through the hoary clouds and spilled fresh light onto
her surroundings. She now found herself at the Burrow. She was in the backyard, sitting on a
weather-beaten wooden bench that wobbled with her every stir, while George laid
flat on the parched lawn, looking up into the sky as he tossed an angry gnome
in the air.
"Well, that's just ridiculous, George," she heard herself say. "Harry and Ron
are not lovers."
"Of course they are, Hermione," he whispered conspicuously. "Why do you think
they fight all the time?"
"We all fight all the time."
"Yeah, but you don't sleep in the same room." Hermione looked confoundedly
towards the freckled twin and shook her head in dismissal.
"George, that doesn't make any sense at all."
…The burrow had suddenly disappeared as Hermione's dream flashed abruptly
before her again, taking her to a different memory at a different time. The
vivid wisps of color around her had changed to a dark gray, and the outdoor
setting from her previous memory had evaporated instantly as huge thick walls
closed in around her. The wavering flames of the Common Room fireplace had cast
flickering shadows that danced all around her and the sobbing figure in her
arms. The petite young lady with tousled red hair buried her splotched face in
Hermione's arms as Hermione tried to comfort her. Distraught, Ginny sobbed
convulsively in Hermione's arms as she tried her best to control her bawling.
"I doubt Harry is cheating on you," Hermione whispered. "It's just not like him
Gin'; besides, he loves you; you should know that by now."
"You don't understand, Hermione," she sniffed, "I caught him. I s-saw him
k-k-kissing her," she said through shuddering gasps before the remaining words
were muffled through Hermione's sweater as Ginny buried her head in her arms
once again. "I'm going to kill him," she said suddenly as she leapt up from her
seat and headed out the door.
*Flash*
…The remaining light of day played out across the field as the
scarlet sun sank slowly over the Forbidden Forest and its thick bordering
shrubbery. Slivers of red and mauve streaked the cobalt sky, giving the field
an iridescent glow. Looking out into the blurred field of green as the players
on brooms zoomed past each other at unfathomable speed, Hermione was engrossed
in the beautiful landscape before her; it was like a picturesque painting of an
autumn scene in the countryside.
It had been the longest game of Quidditch in the past few decades, and though
the game had gone on for nearly fourteen hours, none of the players had shown
any signs of fatigue or defeat. Hermione sat up at the very top of the stands
with Hagrid and Neville flanking her sides. The beautiful setting and the
energy from the crowd fed the determined players on brooms, as they thrived in
such moments.
"Slytherin scores ten points and ties with Gryffindor at one hundred and twenty
points," cried the student commentator suddenly as the silver and green crowd
roared out in excitement from their team's scored goal.
The viridescent scenery before her had suddenly faded as she found herself
lying beneath a manly figure, under thin cotton sheets as their bodies rocked
against each other in an erotic motion. Although he lay atop her, he held his
weight on his arms, which were propped on the bed beside her. Her legs folded
tightly around him as he slowly and gently eased his way inside her. She let
out a muffled moan as her lover sent tingling shockwaves throughout her body.
She squeezed her thighs tightly around him as she bucked herself upward to meet
his every thrust. His scent imbued her skin, and his sweat dripped onto her as
they made love to each other for the first time that night.
The scene became blurry as it fast-forwarded a few hours. "I love you,"
came a soft almost inaudible voice. Hermione wasn't sure whom it came from. She
heard it again, as if it were an echo, taunting her almost. "I… love you."
Hermione's dream had shifted again to another time and place. Whether it was
deliberate, she did not care or notice.
- "Miss Granger, could you please inform the class the only time of year the
zodiacal constellation Scorpius is visible in the Northern Hemisphere?"
Hermione looked up from her notes, surprised and slightly disappointed she had
been singled out from the class. 'Today of all days,' she thought to herself
before answering.
"In the summer evenings, Professor."
"Thank you, Miss Granger. Twenty points to Gryffindor for the only student who
completed last night's assignment," the Astronomy professor said disappointedly,
as Hermione flushed from ear to ear. "And if this ever happens again, I will
deduct ten points from each student. Last weekend's holiday break was no excuse
to ignore your assignments, and I do not want to see this happening again. I am
very disappointed, class."
Hermione's head was now swarming with old and new memories flooding back to
her, invading her conscience. The memories flashed before her in and out and in
no particular order.
"Isn't it a beautiful morning?" she heard herself whisper in her morning voice.
It was indeed a beautiful morning, she remembered distinctly.
*Flash*
"Harry, you failed our test?
Unbelievable! Didn't you study?"
"Hey, Harry, Gin's looking for you," Ron cut in.
"Of course I did, Hermione, I just had a long Quidditch practice yesterday;
that's all," he said guiltily before turning to Ron at his side. "Could you
tell her I'll be there in a sec?"
"Harry…"
Hermione's dream seemed to have gone out of control. She tossed and turned as the memories, she had worked so hard to
bury, came flooding back to her.
…"You love me," came a distant familiar voice in her dream. "No," she muttered
in her sleep as her past memories flashed uncontrollably.
_
"Hermione, is he going to be okay?"
"He's fine, Neville; the antidote won't be ready for another week, but Harry's
strong; he'll make it through. He always does."
*Flash*
"Get dressed!"
-
"Hermione, we need you to come back. Albus specifically asked for you. Will you
see him?"
-
"There's nothing going on, Ron. You're just being paranoid."
-
"Shut up, Parkinson! I'm sick of listening to your empty threats."
-
"You're an impediment."
-
"Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins!"
-
"Never - add fluxweed before monkshood in ANY sleeping potion. Ever! You should
know this by now, Neville; you've got the highest marks in Herbology."
-
"I know something happened. Tell me something happened, tell me something went
wrong; just don't tell me it was a mistake."
-
"Hermione, darling, daddy's home! Get in here before you dirty your dress."
-
"Isn't it obvious…"
-
"Platform Nine and ¾. It says to run right into the wall, Mum; I'm sure that's
exactly what I need to do."
"But it's just ridiculous, Hermione; you'll kill yourself."
"Oh, Mum, I'll be fine."
-
"I can't believe you hit Viktor. What the hell were you thinking, Ron?"
"Oh, I don't know. I thought he was trying to SWALLOW your face
there for a moment."
-
"You're late, Miss Granger; ten points from Gryffindor."
-
"Why are you saying this?"
-
"Ugh, I got the sardine-flavored one."
-
"Run your fingers up my dress again, Malfoy, and you'll never see them again!"
-
"Get out!"
-
"Please, don't do this to me."
-
"Twenty points, Miss Granger."
-
"Dumbledore, I need to see you right now. It's very important."
-
"Winky."
-
"Hermione, let's board the train before it leaves. What are you waiting for?"
-
"Please, Miss Granger, don't cry. Winky is here. Winky helps."
-
"Darling, please eat your dinner. You're too thin."
-
"I said, Get Out!"
-
"Look at me, you coward."
-
"… I can't believe you forgot your wand… What are you going to do? The train
will be leaving soon…
"Just board the train, Gin'… I'll figure something out."
-
"Miss Granger, your wand."
**Flash**
…The Hogwarts Express blew steam out of its boiler as it prepared
to leave. The station was buzzing with mirth and excitement as students ran
frantically around the station to take quick snap-shots of each other and
exchange personal memorabilia: from chipped mugs and cursed photos, to flashing
pins and charmed figurines – with those who will never return for the following
year. The steam whistle blew out loud as a signal that it was ready to depart
soon. Most had board the Express by now except for a very few…
…"I can't believe you forgot your wand."
"I must've forgotten it in Dumbledore's office before I left the castle."
"Well, what are you going to do? The train will be leaving soon."
Hermione fiddled around her robe and coat pockets, falsely expecting to find
her wand, only to come up with nothing. "Just board the train, Gin', she said
softly, "and save me a seat, I'll figure something out."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. If not, I'll just owl Dumbledore from the Burrow and tell him to send it
to me."
Ginny nodded hesitantly before she left her friend and boarded the Hogwarts
Express.
Hermione cursed under her breath, knowing very well there was no way she was
going to get her wand before the train left. She contemplated for a while on
possible ways to attain her wand or ways it might suddenly appear before her,
till she gave up and turned to board the train. She had hardly taken a step
towards the Express when she felt a slight change in the air. A light shadow
passed over her as the atmosphere turned cold and caused her hair to stand on
end. She knew someone was standing behind her, and had a slight idea of whom it
was. Only one person could stand near her and make her blood run cold. Hermione
turned around slowly to meet the baleful eyes of her bleak Potions master.
"Your wand, Miss Granger," he said sternly as he reached into his pockets and
withdrew the wand from his robes. "The Headmaster requested I bring this to
you."
She stared bleakly at the gaunt-faced man, though his eyes were upon his
outstretched hand. She shifted her eyes down to his large potion-stained
fingers twined gracefully around her wand and wondered why he didn't so much as
look at her. She contemplated whether it was intentional or if he simply didn't
care.
"Do you want your wand or not, Miss Granger?" he interrupted her thoughts.
Hermione hesitated for a moment before retrieving the proffered wand. She felt
an unusual tugging in her chest and fought hard against the tears slowly
forming in her eyes. She did not want this man to see her like this; see what
he had done to her, and the agonizing effect he still had on her. She fought
hard and failed.
…"Well, if there is nothing else," Snape bowed his head slightly
and turned to leave. It took every fiber in his being to move each muscle and
prevent them from reaching out to her. He had almost turned in to a corner when
he heard her softly whisper behind him:
"Did you ever love me?" She uttered despairingly. She said it more to herself
than him, though she hoped that he would hear. Snape froze in his tracks, his
back still facing her and his body numbing slowly. "Even in the slightest bit?"
He felt his heart shatter into more pieces than he could imagine possible. A
stinging sensation cut through his body and followed up to his eyes, as he felt
them well up unusually. He shook his head slightly, clearing it of all thoughts
and ambivalent feelings. He hesitated for a moment before he whipped around and
shot her the most repugnant look he could mask.
"Would I even be capable of such a thing, Miss Granger?" he spat
condescendingly.
"Everyone is capable of loving, Professor," she said softly.
"Then why would anyone waste such feelings on an insufferable nuisance like
yourself?"
His words stung like poison; spat out in an insuperable tone of loathing. She
felt each word as acutely as he had said it, and deliberated for a moment,
unable to think or speak. Her feelings were unbearable, and her expression more
than explained it. He never failed to reduce her to anything less than the very
dirt she stood on. If she had not died that morning a few months back, she had
died that very moment. Her face had been washed pallid, and her bloodless lips
trembled beneath her slightly upturned nose. Whatever hurt she was feeling, it
was nothing compared to what he felt each time he hurt her.
A deathlike look fell upon her face. Tears once more spilled out of her deeply
sunken eyes which inquired, 'Why are you doing this to me? Why?' She stood paralyzed in her numbed
frame of mind as it grasped that one particular moment and replayed it
incessantly in her mind amid its devastation. She knew everyone behind her was
watching her, although they had no idea of the matter. Severus watched her sway
slightly whilst she drowned in her unarticulated anguish. Her eyes were vaguely
upon him as her thoughts drifted somewhere else. Her eyes unconsciously shifted
down to his trembling hands partially obscured by the cuff of his robes, though
she was too distressed to have noticed. He saw the wounded look that swept over
her face and had almost reached out to pulled her in to him, before he decided
against it. He stepped back suddenly as he was determined to go through with
his initial plans. It was the only thing to do.
He raised his brow slightly in contempt as if to ignore the distressing state
she was in. He turned on his heels and left her there alone to drown in her
pain and suffering. Her friends had run out of the train to save her from him,
not caring in the least bit whether they got left behind. But they would never
understand what really happened; who was really hurt that day. It was too
complicated for anyone with such simple minds, as they possessed to understand.
Severus wanted to run, though it was completely out of his nature. He needed to
get away, and quick, before he collapsed under the weight of his own lies and
pain. He could see her from the corner of his eye in an unmoving stance as he
willed himself to keep walking and to never turn back. He had almost made it
past the same corner again when he saw her tumble to the ground behind him...
A figure quickly jolted up from the bed whilst his dreams faded
away. His hand smacked hard against his shrunken chest, heaving as he panted
desperately for breath. His blood-shot eyes roamed around the room as it
pierced through the darkness to study his surroundings. Realizing it was just a
dream and not real life playing itself again, he closed his eyes and sighed
softly. Relieved, he held his forehead wearily in his hands as he drew a ragged
breath. The gasping figure allowed himself a short moment to collect his
thoughts and steady his breathing before sitting up. Remaining seated on the
edge of the bed, he threw his head back slightly before running his long
proficient fingers across his face. As he massaged his throbbing temples, the
tips of his fingers caught on the stray tendrils brushing his eyes.
'Damn it, Severus,' he cursed to himself as he slewed his head round to check
the time—
Three forty-two.
*-*-*-*-*-*
A/N: Thanks Shannon [Raindrops on Roses] for the marvelous job you did polishing up this chapter.
Thanks for Reviewing!!
