Chapter Eight

Nicolas Thierry

The next day commenced as the previous: children scurrying to their classes after breakfast, and lessons fairing on as usual. 

Hermione swept into her dungeons of Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years to find them (fortunately) intact and unharmed by each other. 

The students immediately took their assigned seats without being asked.  Hermione took out her wand-- tapped it once on her notes and twice on the blackboard-- instantly, a list of 40 ingredients appeared on the board.  It elicited a few groans and many covert sneers from the class.

"Have your quills and parchments ready!"  On the board are 40 ingredients we will be using quite often this term.  I want you to list at least two potions that require each ingredient.  You will not be permitted to use a single potion more than three times.  I will give extra points to any who manages to finish the assignment in 15 minutes.  You will begin now."

Hermione knew that the best of her students would get 15 to 20 ingredients at the most in the given time.  The assignment was an efficient way for her to learn what each of her students knew and how well their minds worked when forced to do an assignment at a short time. 

Hermione stood at the front-center of the class with her arms folded behind her as she waited for the students to finish their assignments.  After a few minutes passed she caught a figure moving under her doorway from the corner of her eye. 

The figure remained still outside as if waiting for her to notice its presence before entering. 

Hermione headed out the classroom and closed the door gently behind her. 

Standing before her was a young man she had never seen before.  He wore the Gryffindor House robes: they were vaguely slovenly, though he stood tall and stately before her.  He had Celtic-like features and storm-grey eyes (She could not help but notice that they seemed a bit too close together.)  His sufficiently long nose was proportionate to his long face, and his flaxen hair was windswept, or perhaps arranged to seem that way.  He was finely developed, she thought, and perhaps a little too tall.  He was not strikingly handsome but there was definitely something appealing to his features. 

Hermione clandestinely examined the newcomer as she inquired on his business for interrupting her class.

"May I help you?" she said in a slightly less harsh tone than she would have normally used.

"Yes," he replied.  His voice was languid and slightly husky.  He spoke in a light French accent that steered all attention from his narrow slanted eyes to the graceful movements of his lips.  She then, perceived that he was the new student from Beauxbatons and was a bit disappointed that he was late for her class-and on his very first day. 

"I am looking for the Potions dungeon, is this it?"

"Mr. Thierry?"

"Yes!"

"You're late!"  She frowned.

"I apologize for my tardiness, professor.  I had some trouble with the directions a very kind poltergeist gave to me on the way down here," he said, pointing up to the stairs behind him. 

Hermione sighed at the instant mention of Peeves' name and reminded herself to report him to the Bloody Baron when she had the chance to after class.  She should have known that the poltergeist would be so kind as to bless the poor student on his first day with one of his tricks.

"Enough said, Mr. Thierry," she said softly.  "There's no need to explain.  I'll have you know that Peeves, our poltergeist, is the last person you should ever ask for anything.  He's devious, tricky, and extremely rude.  And I'll advise you to steer clear of him if you could.  He has very little manners, and has never had any intentions of helping anyone but himself.  And mind you, he was not named Peeves for his kindness."

A short laugh sounded from the new student's throat as she said this.  "I'll remember that next time, Professor." 

"The class is being quizzed at the moment, Mr. Thierry.  I have on the board a list of ingredients.  The assignment is to write at least two potions that requires each ingredient.  There are 10 minutes left to the assignment and if you'd like, you can do as much as you can.  You will be allowed to finish the quiz after class.  So, you can see me after the bell has rung.

Hermione walked into the dungeons with the new student behind her.  He stood at the front of the class as he searched for a vacant seat.  All eyes were simultaneously drawn to him. 

Mr. Thierry's presence elicited a series of murmurs and glances.  He took a seat beside Michael Radford, a Gryffindor, and grinned slightly when he realized that everyone was still eyeing him. 

He took out his quill and parchment and did as much of the assignment as he could.  Hermione noticed his efforts and was glad that her new student was at least eager to learn.  She had a good feeling about him, and she smiled inwardly when this thought had crossed her mind.

******

Since Mr. Thierry walked into her dungeons, Hermione's class had inadvertently been disrupted by him. 

The girls, from both Houses, could not concentrate on their assignments or keep their eyes away from the new student.  And the boys, as hard as they tried, could not help but examine Mr. Thierry and exchange murmured opinions amongst themselves.  

The only person who seemed unaffected by Mr. Thierry's presence was Mr. Thierry himself.  He ignored (or seemed to) the whispers and glances all around him as he attempted to do as much of the assignment on the board as he could in the remaining time. 

When the class was over, Hermione scowled as she looked over some of the parchments from the quiz and noticed that only very few got as far as the 10th ingredient.  She gave her class homework (3 foot long essay on the different properties of the Belladonna) before dismissing them.  She stowed the quizzes into one of her drawers and started when she looked up to see her new student watching her. 

The flaps of his robes hung loosely at his sides while his hands stayed tucked in his pants.  He stood before her like a tall steely tree whilst she noticed a queer look upon his face-it vanished before she had time to analyze it. 

The foreign student smiled at her as she scrutinized him. 

She quickly looked away when he caught her staring.  

"Take a seat!  I'll quiz you in a minute.  If you want to take it another time, that can be arranged, but it'll have to be some time today." 

Hermione was shuffling and organizing some parchments on her desk as she spoke.  She looked up after a moment of silence, when Mr. Thierry did not respond right away. 

The new student held a parchment aloft for her.  She took it and saw that it was his assignment.  He had finished it in the short time given to him. 

"Very impressive."  She smiled.

"I'm glad you're impressed."

"There's no need for you or anyone else to try and impress me, Mr. Thierry.  Keep up the good work and behave in my class-everything will fine. 

"What is your name?" he asked abruptly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your name, Professor; I realized that I don't know your name."  He smiled.  His French accent was very light-- one would hardly notice that he was French. 

Hermione hastily cleared her thoughts and smiled at her new student. 

"I'm sorry.  You may call me Professor Granger.  Hermione noticed that the young man's features seemed to stiffen all of a sudden.  She dismissed the thought when his expression quickly changed and he smiled back at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor.  I am most skilled at potions-making than anything else."

"Really?  Was your father a Potions Master?"

"My grandfather was a Potions Master," he said quickly.  "He taught me most everything he knew before he passed away."

"I'm very sorry," she said, feeling a bit uncomfortable with where their conversation was leading.  "Uh, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Thierry-I have a lot of work to do here. 

The young man nodded in acquiescence.  And with a slight bow he left her dungeons. 

She pondered for a moment on the things he had said earlier before she remembered that she had to pay the Bloody Baron a visit concerning Peeves. 

Her fifteen minute break was nearly over.

****************

Striding quickly past the halls of the west wing, Hermione found herself near the entrance to the Bloody Baron's station. 

She always dreaded going down there: its cold and unnatural atmosphere never ceased to make her hair stand on end. 

She had debated in her dungeons on whether she should carry out her plans on reporting Peeves-the Bloody Baron's gloomy halls was hardly a place one would enjoy traversing unless they were dead.  She had had enough of Peeves and decided to report him, regardless of the consequences she should find herself in if he found out that she had told on him.

She had not been down the gloomy passages for years.  They seemed a lot more desolate and eerie than the last time she had visited.  There was no one in sight.  The halls were empty and the deafening silence vibrated in her blood-pounding ears.  She was very nervous; it was very unusual that she had not come across any of the ghosts by now.  She wanted to call out to someone, but her tongue was caught between her teeth and the discomfort that she felt from the unusually empty halls, kept her from saying anything at all. 

When she reached the Bloody Baron's dungeons she noticed that a faint light flickered from beneath the door.  She hesitated for a moment before entering.  The deadly silence was suddenly pervaded with a harsh, raspy breathing.  It was uncoordinated and piercing in the quiet atmosphere surrounding her.  She pressed her ear slightly to the metal doors. 

Hermione felt her heart clashing against her ribs as she tried hard to silence her breathing.  It only suffocated her and caused her heart to beat even more arrhythmic. 

There was a sudden movement inside, and Hermione perceived that there was more than one person or specter in the room.  

Everything happened rather quickly.  Hermione heard a bit of scuffling and muffled indistinct groans.  She could not make much of the unusual activity going on beyond the metal doors, yet the fact remained that she still heard no voices.  This gave her a queer feeling and she stood stiff and aghast outside as she listened to the movements from within the room. 

She felt her hand moving for the handles, but saw that they remained still and rigid beside her.  She felt a strange power within her thrust herself against the large doors.  She threw them open like an intrusive prowler would.

The noises ceased and Hermione found her heart stop suddenly within her. 

The sight before her was most disturbing and it was a moment before she gained any coherent thoughts. 

Inside the Bloody Baron's dungeons, stood the Baron with Filch; Peeves was there also and was in a most horrific state.  He was bobbing convulsively in thin air while his hands were fettered by a thick wisp of swirling mist that kept him from escaping the excruciating pain that was being inflicted upon him. 

The Bloody Baron's silver-stained hands were pierced inside the poltergeist.  It imposed such agonizing pain. 

The poltergeist's face no longer seemed impish or mischievous, but vacant and distorted.  

Hermione had never felt such pity and sympathy for Peeves as she did at that moment.  Horrified at first, she could not find the words or courage to speak or move.  But the Gryffindor within her alighted with fury, causing her to snap out of her stupor. 

Hermione quickly grabbed for her wand and pointed it towards the Bloody Baron and the sinister-looking caretaker who seemed angry as if he had been deprived of his entertainment.

"What in the name of Godric is going on here?" her voice resonated in the abrupt.  "Release him this very instant!"

"This is not your concern, professor," the caretaker growled.  "That bloody wraith is a nuisance to all, and is finally getting what's been comin'.  So go back up and let us take care of this."

"Filch!" she spat crossly.  "You wicked, cold-hearted man; how could you allow this to happen?  I demand you, Bloody Baron, to stop this at once!  Relashio!" 

Hermione's spell caused the Bloody Baron to release Peeves.  She quickly cast an invisible ward over him before casting the Morbilicorpus.  And before Filch could stop her, Hermione was already out and running up the stairs with Peeves floating unconsciously behind her.  She quickly headed for the Headmaster's office when she reached the upper floors.  She darted as if the Bloody Baron was pursuing her.  She nearly fell over when she ran into her Head of House.

"What on earth--?  Hermione looked up to see McGonagall's puzzled gaze directed towards her and the cataleptic poltergeist.  "Dear girl, what in gods name have you gotten yourself into now?"

"Minerva," she gasped as she tried to steady her breathing.  "I found him down at the Bloody Baron's floor being tortured-the poor thing.  I need to go to Dumbledore and inform him of this--

"Hermione, girl, slow down, I can barely catch what you are saying.  Now slowly, tell me what is going on?"

"I went down to see the Bloody Baron regarding Peeves and I found him and Filch tormenting him.  The Bloody Baron had his hands in him-and-Peeves-Oh, Minerva you should've seen what they did to him-"

"That is enough, Hermione," she said gently.  "I'll take care of this.  Give him to me, I'll take him up to the infirmary, and then I'll have a talk with Albus.  You need to get to your class."  She talked as if the incident was not news to her.  She seemed only slightly troubled, yet she was not as disturbed as Hermione was. 

"B-but-"

"Go!  You have students waiting for you; the bell rang 5 minutes ago."  Minerva did not want to say it, but she sent her rather because she had seen the girl through enough already.  She wished to send her to her office to rest, but that would only indicate that there was a problem. 

Hermione instantly obeyed as the peremptory tone of her older colleague moved her automatically to close the subject and head for her class. 

For a moment, she had forgotten that she was a professor with a class full of students waiting for her. 

Reluctantly, and still unsettled, Hermione headed for the east wing and down to her dungeons. 

She could not get the frail expression of the usually devious-looking poltergeist out of her head.  She was in a state of shock, and could not believe that she had witnessed such treacherous forms of punishment at Hogwarts.  She wondered over and over -what exactly the Bloody Baron was doing to Peeves.  It seemed most unusual if not painful for the poltergeist.  She would be sure to bring the matter up at the next staff meeting if it was the last thing she did.

She would deal with Filch later. 

**********

Severus leaned over the fireplace with his hands set firmly over the mantelpiece.  He gazed into the hearth as if the fabrication of his thoughts were visible beyond its fiery inset. 

He had not much sleep last night since he returned to his quarters from the Headmaster's office.  He had been pondering all night on what he should do to get Hermione back.  As much as he wanted he could not walk up to her and confess about everything that had happened to him.  He also didn't have the guts to do it.  After all the harsh and heartless things he had ever said to her, he could not picture himself helpless and vulnerable at her feet -begging for her forgiveness like the powerless weakling he saw himself as.  Nevertheless, his ultimate desire to have her back effaced all other feelings.  He knew his chances of getting her back were slim, and the very thought of the idea was as absurd as the possibility of her taking him back.  But his will was set and he had now decided that he would work to get her back, even if it meant risking the secret of his past life to others.

Severus cringed as the horrible memories of him causing Hermione unnecessary pain came back to him with a vengeance.  He never wanted to, he never wished to-but the fact remained that he did it anyhow, no matter the reasons.  And he was sure she would no sooner forget than he.   

He had no clue as to where he could even begin.  No viable plan presented itself to him.  The whole idea of it frightened him, and the thought that she would certainly not take him back scared him most.  A part of him wanted to believe that her unresolved feelings would be his only chance to win her back. 

He wished he could start all over again; help her find a way to forget their past and forgive him as well. 

Impossible!

'No more sarcastic responses or sadistic expressions.'

Unlikely!

He will do everything in his power to earn back her trust, no matter the cost.

'It was hopeless!' he thought resignedly.

"Severus!"

Severus started from his solitary splendor when Dumbledore's voice emanated from the fireplace.  He looked down to see a large smile protruding from the Headmaster's lips.

"Having fun, Headmaster?"  The sarcasm was automatically permeated into his words.  He couldn't help it.

"Well, you looked so content in your thoughts it was such a pity to bother you."

"Yet, you did anyway."

"Well, I was wondering if you would join me here in my office.  I know you would rather spend your free class period in your office, drifting off into space--"  With that Severus gave a slight snort.  "But if you would join me for a cup of tea, I promise not to keep you long."

"Is something the matter, Albus?"

"Would something have to be wrong for me to invite you for a cup of tea?" he smiled.  Severus arched a brow before he sighed resignedly. 

"Very well, I'll be up in several minutes."

"Will you not step through?"

"No!  I want to check the corridors on my way up."

"Ah, you are ever on the prowl for truants, I see.  Well, I should hope to see you soon, then.  Minerva has just left a few minutes ago."

"Was something wrong?"

"No, no, Severus.  You worry too much.  Minerva was up to propose a farewell party for Irma this Friday.

"Don't you think it's too soon for a party?  The students have just arrived."

"It's the only available time.  We're quite busy for the next several weeks and Irma is already suspecting something."

"Very well."

"Then, I'll see you in a few!  Good bye, Severus."

"Headmaster," and with a slight bow he headed for his desk, warded his drawers and door, and headed out the hall.

All Severus could do as he traversed the halls on his way up to the Headmaster's office was think about Hermione--good thoughts, bad thoughts, thoughts in-between, if such existed.  But whatever his feelings, he could not help but feel light-hearted.  It was as if he had already gotten her back, and that made his heart flutter more.  He felt slightly queasy with his peculiar behavior, but that did not stop him from continuing to think about her.

So far, Severus had not come across any students lingering in the hallways during class, therefore he was still deep in thoughts and not consciously aware of where he was going when he bumped suddenly into someone. 

She seemed to have come out of nowhere. 

Severus instantly whipped the clumsy individual around for a tongue-lashing when he realized who it was.

"Are you bloody blind, you-"

"I doubt you would want to finish that, Professor."  Her voice was languid and her eyes alight with mischief.  When Severus realized that he had bumped into the Minister's daughter he quickly bit back his tongue, though his malicious expression still lingered on his face.

"What are you doing out of class, Miss Bailey?"  The words were forced through his gritted teeth, though she could hear very well since she was still clinging tightly onto his robes.

"I felt woozy, Professor, so I was excused to go to the Infirmary."  Her eyes smiled at him and he started to feel very uncomfortable.  He noticed that she was still did not release the flaps of his robes.  He looked down at her fists clenched tightly around his gown and wondered what on earth the stupid girl was playing at. 

Miss Bailey shifted her eyes to the direction of his gaze as she realized his suspicions.  She smiled before she whispered: "Am I making you uncomfortable, Professor?" 

At these words and the soft tone of her voice, he did feel oddly uncomfortable.  There was a moment he felt as if his mind went suddenly blank while his mind flashed from one thought to another as he tried to figure out the scene playing out before him.  It seemed a difficult task at the moment.

They stared silently at each other: Annessa, hinting of her attempt to chat him up, and he, slightly ignorant of her effort. 

Before long, Severus figured out what it was that she was playing at: 'By gods, the child is flirting with me!' he thought. 

He was so appalled if not flattered by the mere fact, that it was a while before he could think properly.  The girl was undoubtedly beautiful, and even that was an understatement, but now he realized that what she had in beauty she lacked in wits.  To think for a moment that he would actually allow her to flirt with him (as flattering as it was) without getting a tongue-lashing at the least was plain daft. 

But before he could respond to the child's ridiculous behavior and lash out at her stupidity, daughter or not of the Minister, they were both startled by a sharp voice from behind them that cracked like a whip.

"Miss Bailey!"  Severus and Annessa quickly whipped around to see the angry face of the Potions mistress.  She was incredulous and livid, yet her eyes were ablaze with anger.  She was utterly surprised at what she was seeing and was for a moment too astonished to say anything.

"Professor," the student replied as she released her grip from Severus' flaps and quickly stepped back.  "I was just-"

"Return to your class at this moment, Miss Bailey!"  Annessa did not attempt to argue her way out of it.  She recognized the peremptory tone in her professor's voice and knew all too well than to argue with her.  She realized that Hermione was not in a state to be trifled with and quickly made her way for her class, hoping to get as far away from the menacing-looking Potions mistress as possible.  Hermione lashed out at her student, yet she never once looked at her face.  Her eyes were fixed firmly on Severus and it did not take much for him to realize that she abhorred him.

He cursed inwardly and felt the urge to smash something against the wall.  He couldn't believe his luck: damn her and her impeccable timing, he thought sarcastically. 

Too afraid to say anything, he waited only for a word from her before deciding on how he would respond.  But she simply glared at him with the utmost revulsion before turning her heel.

"You're disgusting."  He heard the words' escape her lips as she turned to leave.  He unconsciously (and later regrettably) grabbed her arm.  She was stopped in her tracks and she quickly turned around to shove him away from her. 

She couldn't stand him touching her anywhere.  She had lost all respect for him and wanted, at the moment, to rip out his hair.

"Loosen your grip, Professor," she snapped. 

"What's your problem?" Snape retorted, ignoring all formalities.

"My problem is that you're a pig-you've got some nerve-flirting with your student!"

"Flirting?  What the hell are you insinuating?" 

"What do you think?  Haven't you done enough damage already-you've got to go and ruin that poor girl's life, as well?" Hermione lowered her voice when she realized that she was yelling at him.

Snape unconsciously grabbed for her wrist again-gripping at it tightly before he realized that he had crossed the line. 

She cowered slightly-fearing the venomous look her words had elicited from him: "You think you know everything, don't you, Professor?"  His coldness belied the calmness in his tone. 

"I know enough to see you for what you really are: a deceiver."  The very words struck him hard and whether she chose to ignore it or not, she was aware that it had affected him. 

"And I suppose you wished you had seen that before you threw yourself at me, a filthy, deceiving professor?" he said bluntly, referring to a certain moment in their past.

"Times have changed!  People change!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes; for one thing, the girls come smarter these days," she said coldly.  They'll see you for what you really are!"

Severus quickly jerked Hermione away from him, causing her to stagger backwards.  He attempted to make his way past her before she should see that he was affected by what she said.  "Think what you will," his voice cracked. 

"I'm not going to let you hurt anyone like you hurt--"

"-Who?" he inquired quickly whilst he whipped around to grip her for the third time.  His dark, brooding eyes pierced her coldly. 

He wanted so desperately to bind her and drag her off to his private quarters.   He would keep her there until he mustered up the courage to tell her everything.  He couldn't stand the thought of her waking up each day thinking these things about him.   He saw that kidnapping was possible realizing the state of madness that woman could drive him to. 

For the moment-he wanted to crack the back of his hand across her taut, yet once- cherubic face.  'You are one of the most brilliant women, I have ever met.  Why haven't you figured it out already?' he thought angrily. 

Snape had spent years keeping the secret of his marriage and past life from her, but sometimes he almost wished she would figure things out herself.  The answers were after all, hidden in the library, her solitary splendor from the tedium of the world around her.  But he supposed that she did not care much about him to go through such trouble. 

Severus cleared his mind before he shifted his thoughts back to Hermione.  She did not wrench herself from his grip, and he was grateful for that.  He couldn't remember the last time he touched her or stood so close to her.  He cursed the robes and whatever article of material under it that kept his yearning hand from feeling her skin.  He could easily smell the scent of her hair. 

'Tangerine.'

He supposed she was right about his sexual perversion, though only for her would he allow himself to act so demoralizing-not for some randy little school girl in heat.  Once again, he felt the need to strike a woman-he wondered what boorish animal he was turning himself into.

Hermione yanked her arm from Severus' grip when she saw the vague expression that took over his face.  He was looking at her yet she felt as if he did not see her at all.  She pushed him away from her whilst she chafed her wrists slightly. 

"You have a problem.  I recommend you get some help for it!" she said calmly before scrutinizing the odd state he seemed to be in. 

He returned her scrutiny without rancor and realized that he could not respond to her comment.  He was neither angry nor hurt-he just wanted to grab for her and press his lips against her face.  Instead he backed away from her and without another word-he turned his heel and made his way for his office. 

If it was impossible for him to get her back before, it was now unimaginable. 

'Once again, Severus, you've managed to nail yourself to the wall', he thought cynically.  He cursed at himself in silent imprecations for being daft enough to allow his anger to get the best of him. 

He knew that she was standing rigidly behind him and in no doubt wallowing in her anger. 

"Damn it," he said to himself.  "And damn that Bailey," he cursed heatedly. 

He was not aware of it, but Hermione had heard his soft execrations.  Her expressions quickly changed from heated to bewilder.  She wondered what he had meant by that.  She stood still for a while pondering over his words-forgetting again, her class full of students.

She was already half an hour late.

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