Follow My Way

4- Conversation Piece

***

"You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain

You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane

You know I'd give you everything I've got

for a little peace of mind" -'I'm So Tired' The Beatles

***

There were no books on the subject, as she had pointed out to Snape during their meeting, and that fact was driving her slowly mad. Somehow, her inability to run to the library was making her feel more helpless than her actual situation was. She could well imagine the comments Harry and Ron would throw at her if they could see her at such a loss. Chances were that they'd change their tune if they knew that her only alternative source of information was in their much hated former Potions Master. That thought was almost enough to please her.

Pointless as she knew the activity would turn out to be, Hermione had gotten up early and ensconced herself amongst the shelves of the schools' library. She hadn't been back since her time as a student, but it was a comforting place. The air was heavy with dust and silence, wondrous silence that she hadn't been able to even imagine in her wildest dreams since the nightmare in the forest. The deserted room appealed to her. As hard as it was to hide from her own thoughts, it was even harder to hide to from other peoples'. If she got too close she could hear the hum of their thoughts; she didn't dare try to make out the words. The hum was much like the faint hum that was came from the restricted section if you got too close, a hum that promised information, dark and light, if she'd only come closer and pour through the pages.

Reading itself bored her. There was no challenge in the act. She finished books at an astronomical pace and retained the knowledge. Three words made you a master of anything you set your mind to so there was no challenge in anything. Everything was ruined and no one would explain why. Snape had given her a taste of the information she sought in his brief tutorial, but he was holding back. He could hardly blame her for her lack of attention span when everything seemed to demand her scrutiny all at once. He said she could shut it off, but sleep seemed to be the only escape she had at her disposal. Even then she was plagued by a different sort of chaos.

Dreams and reality were defiantly fighting it out to see who could be more bizarre.

The cherry on top of the very fucked up sundae was the prophecy of the magic casement. The old Hermione Granger would have rolled her eyes at the idea of prophecy in any form. Hadn't her brief stint in Trelawneys class proven that? Now something she saw, in a chance encounter in one of the many, ever changing corridors of Hogwarts was depriving her of the restful sleep she needed. The library had proven useful in finding information on the casement. Unfortunately, all the information she'd been able to find about charmed casements had stressed one thing, avoidance at all costs. Hardly helpful once you blundered across one.

Why couldn't the blasted thing have opened for Professor Dumbledore? She imagined it would have shown him something useful or at least a hell of a lot more plausible than a naked romp on the grass with Severus Snape. She quickly put that thought out of her mind before her mind assimilated it for a new twist on an already disturbing dream.

In the hallway that night Snape had said that the prophecy would become self-fulfilling. What she wanted to know was, exactly how much of the casements peep show had he seen? It was one thing to be a voyeur, however accidentally, to your own prophesized sex life. It was a whole other level of disturbing when the voyeur was a former professor. /Actually, it was also part of his prophesized sex life/, the traitorous part of her mind reminded her.

She was becoming seriously close to that nervous breakdown Harry had been predicting since they were eleven.

The library door opened with a barely audible squeak and soft footsteps broke the silence of the room. The footsteps were confident and precise. Hermione didn't have to turn to recognize who was approaching, the hum of thought that assailed her senses held a familiar waspishness. Madame Pince had been a familiar fixture in the library when it had been her second home during her school days and it seemed that the absent librarian was just returning from her summer break.

Replacing the books she'd been debating back to their places on the shelves, Hermione approached the hassled looking woman. Hassled seemed to be her permanent expression, but Ron Weasley had once drunkenly confessed that if she smiled more she'd be a very handsome woman. The sight of her emerging from the stacks of books earned an exasperated sigh, but Hermione knew that it was due more to amusement than to annoyance. "Good afternoon, Madam Pince."

Madam Pince dropped several heavy books onto her desk with a thump. She regarded Hermione with an affectionate smile and a sharp comment. "It was rather naïve of me to think I was through with you, and here you are in my domain before I even return from term. I thought you'd left us for higher forms of education, Ms. Granger."

Hermione grinned. "I've missed our little chats. I completed my turn as a student at University, ages ago. Who keeps you company at all hours of the day now that I'm not here?"

"Albus gifted me with a particularly snarky parrot, completely inappropriate for a library. Said I needed a companion, can you imagine? That man is most incorrigible." Pursing her lips in displeasure, the librarian took a seat at her desk and began to rummage through her shoulder bag.

Hermione sometimes entertained the notion that she'd picked up her scatterbrained behavior due to sheer proximity to Hogwarts' Librarian. Despite her amusement at the scene, curiosity got the better of her. "What did you do with the parrot?"

"What?" She looked up, startled, as though she'd forgotten she wasn't alone in the library. Hermione had to bite her lip from giggling in a most impertinent manner. "Oh, that blasted bird. Minerva transfigured him into a nice name-plate for me."

The nameplate in question was perched on the desk. The sight of it let lose the laughter that Hermione had been trying to repress. "I always thought it was terribly cruel, turning helpless animals into water goblets and pincushions."

That earned her an uncharacteristic snort from the librarian. "That was the more human option, my first notion was to see if the dissection of the pest would yield anything that would be of use in the potions lab."

"I'm glad you chose what you did, then."

Madam Pince smirked in a very Slytherin manner. "It wasn't a choice, Ms. Granger. I merely encountered Minerva first."

"That wasn't sheer chance, my dear." The amused voice of the Headmaster put in from the doorway. Looking characteristically jovial in summer robes of rich burgundy, he graced them both with a bright smile. It was very easy to be taken in by the Headmasters good cheer.

Madam Pinch looked momentarily guilty before regaining her no-nonsense demeanor. "Good afternoon, Albus."

Hermione grinned as the Headmaster moved to pick up the parrot-come- nameplate and polish the dust off. "Lovely as always to see you, Irma. I trust your holidays were well spent?"

"Of course, I visited my brother as you well know." Finally giving up on her handbag, she patted her hair in annoyance only to come up with the pen she'd been searching for. "This place has become a complete tip while I was away. My work is never done."

Dumbledore glanced around the impeccably maintained, if a little dusty, library. "We won't keep you from your work, though if you need any assistance you need only ask."

Madam Pince muttered something indecipherable from the depths of one of her drawers. Seeing that as a dismissal, Dumbledore offered Hermione his arm with twinkling eyes. "Seeing as though you've missed lunch, would you care for some tea? It's outstanding, I assure you, grown by our very own Professor Sprout in her private greenhouses."

Shooting one last look at the librarian, who was now muttering to herself as she wrote furiously on some parchment, Hermione took the offered arm. "Tea sounds lovely."

"Excellent." Steering them out of the library and towards his office, he said, "Tea and conversation is just the thing. One can only hide in the library for so long."

Glancing down at the guilty girl on his arm, the Headmaster gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Madam Pince is very protective of her domain. You wouldn't want to be keeping that lovely bird company as an inkwell, or some such thing. Now, that would be a shame."

***

Tea, it turned out, was just the thing. As a student the very idea of being summoned to the Headmasters office would have turned her stomach to butterflies. As an adult the room was very soothing, though it held many wonders and treasures that perked the interests of the child in her. Amongst them there was a foe glass in a gilded frame, a shelf that held a tiny rememberall cradled in the lap of a serene looking Japanese doll, varied glass containers and what looked like a glass Coke bottle. Portraits of past Headmasters were dozing in their frames, though former Headmaster Dippet seemed to be playing Chinese-checkers with the occupant of the frame next to his. Professor Dippet was losing horribly.

"Hasn't won a game in my tenure here, to the best of my knowledge. His persistence, along with his stubbornness, keeps him playing despite."

Dumbledores' voice caught her wandering attention, turning her gaze back to him she smiled. " I don't imagine there is much to do as a portrait, he may break his streak yet."

"Perhaps his patience will be rewarded." Pouring himself another cup of tea from the beautiful blue-willow teapot, he offered to refill her glass as well but she waved him off. With a wistful look he picked up his teacup. "It's not often I can lure anyone away to have proper tea during these summer months, the faculty scatters to the wind the same way the students do. I must admit I am fond of having the school bustling with students and activity, especially in times like the one upon us."

"It must be hard sending the students off with the threat of violence, especially to the muggle-borns." Hermione sipped her tea and sent a small smile to Fawkes who was settled on his perch, seemingly asleep. "Have there been any attacks since..."

Try as she might, she couldn't say Arabellas' name. It was still hard to believe that her mentor was dead and gone to her. Putting her shaking teacup back on the saucer, tears prickled in her eyes. A weight on her shoulder told her that Fawkes was offering his comfort in the only way he knew how, curling around her neck and nuzzling her chin. Forcing a wavering smile, Hermione looked at the Headmaster helplessly. "I'm sorry, tears aren't very helpful in times like these but I seem to be close to them all the time."

The wistful expression on Dumbledores' face turned sad, making him look as old as his years. "My dear, never forget the healing quality of tears. That you've been holding up as you have been is a testament to your strength. Arabella would be proud of you."

"Some strength, all I do is cry and sit around confused." Blinking back tears, she stroked Fawkes' feathered head. "I don't understand what is happening to me, I don't even know how to go about understanding. It's so frustrating."

The twinkle was back in the Headmasters' eyes when she looked up, making her feel guilty to burden him in such a way. Sniffing and squaring her shoulders, she picked her teacup back up. "I shouldn't say that, giving into self-pity isn't going to solve anything. Professor Snape is being as helpful as I've ever seen him be, in the absence of books I should be asking him. He seems to reluctant to talk to me, not that I can blame him."

"The power you've been given is not an easy thing to explain, even for trained Professors and humble Headmasters alike. In a sense it can be painful to explain, as the words are secretive and also in that the way one receives them is usually linked to death. Death is not something easily dealt with, memories can be painful when you are not yet ready to confront them."

"How did you come by your words?" Hermione asked, instantly regretting her usual lack of tact. Fortunately, the Headmaster didn't look bothered. Instead he looked fondly up at the portraits of Headmasters past. "Two of them came with the job, much like this very office or these charming teacups. The others are a story in themselves, my dear. I haven't been in this school forever as students seem to think and Nicholas and I, Nicholas Flamel that is, we were caught up in our fair share of Gryffindor adventures around the world."

"Nicholas Flamel?" Hermione looked up from her tea, surprised despite herself. "I knew you worked with him on the uses of Dragons Blood, but I never imagined... That is, I am sure you have had adventures."

Dumbledore gave her a bright smile, bordering on boyish. The idea of a young Dumbledore, steeped in adventure and intrigue, almost made her choke on her tea. Until her return to Hogwarts she'd never considered any of her Professor as people outside of the school. There was so much she didn't know about the people she'd looked up to as a student. It was a harsh blow to realize that life wasn't as black and white as she'd imagined.

"Your incredulity makes me feel like a very old man, indeed." Seeing her guilty blush, he held up his hand with a smile. "No apology necessary. Contrary to what many students believe, I was young once though that was a long time ago. While my adventure days are far past, there is still much for me to accomplish in my position at this school. There have been no attacks since the loss of Arabella, but we must stay, in the words of the venerable Alastor Moody, ever vigilant."

With a swish of his tail, Fawkes took leave of Hermiones' shoulder and settled back on his perch without a sound. It occurred to her that the expanse of the eclectic office was soothing in much the way the library had been, despite the wizarding gadgets that littered every available surface. It was calming to not have to deal with chaotic sensory information and after a moment the reason for the calm dawned on her. "Your office is warded to keep all noise out, how can that be? Wards hum is such a distracting way."

"Sorcerers wards lack the signature hum of wizarding wards, making them prefect for hiding things small as a doorway or larger than Hogwarts. The wards on the school function in much the same way, but you were only partially right as to purpose." Dumbledore wore his typical enigmatic smile. "Noise is something you can adapt to, it is within your capabilities to adjust to hear the constant natter of the world only when you need to. I find that it comes in quite handy when you are responsible for scores of children who are capable of any kind of mischief, and who often act on it. The wonder is that the wards produce quite the opposite effect, in that they keep noise in."

"No one can eavesdrop on what goes on here." Hermione was impressed. "I never thought of it that way."

"The information that's eluding you will be made clear soon, my dear. Don't give up on Severus, his council will be most helpful. Now, I believe I have monopolized your time enough for one day. It is beautiful outside, you shouldn't waste such a day indoors." Smiling at her, Dumbledore placed his teacup on the desk and rose to see her out.

Hermione followed suit, idly noting that Headmaster Dippet was taking his frustrations out on the checkerboard in his frame. Dumbledore smiled mirthfully up at the spectacle. "It seems today was not the day for him to break his streak. Perhaps next time."

She couldn't help but smile. "Perhaps. Thank you for the tea, Headmaster."

Walking out of the blessed calm of the office and down the spiral staircase, Hermione digested the afternoons' events. First of all she was going to have to ask Snape for another meeting, despite all her misgivings about the idea. If Dumbledore deemed him to be the best person to help her, she was going to pursue him. Secondly, she was going to have to test this new power of hers. Trying out those wards that might ensure her some amount of concentration in her room sounded like just the thing.

She sincerely hoped that the school would remain intact throughout the endeavor.

***

Hermione was pleased with herself. With some intense concentration she'd been able to construct the wards in her rooms to her liking. It had taken more physical strength than any other magic she'd tried before. From the effort she felt gritty and worn thin, but her efforts had paid off. The only noises in the room were now noises that were being created in the room. She'd been painstaking in making sure there were no wizarding implements present, so that there was nothing left to distract her.

Along with euphoria of strength and success came the inevitable vulnerable crash. Bringing her hands up to massage her temples, she winced at the pressure that nearly made her eyes cross. Unfortunately in the process of warding the room to her liking she'd given herself a headache of astronomical proportions. Vaguely, behind the pain and exhaustion of her headache, she felt that she was not alone.

"You're lucky all you gave yourself was a headache, with the amount of power you were pushing around." Snapes' silky purr announced his presence, but Hermione was too knackered to be affronted by his invasion of her rooms. She merely looked up at him from the chair she was presently slouched in, her hands still cradling her temples. He was scowling and looking more unpleasant than normal. "If this school were not warded we would have had every Death Eater in Britain swooping down upon us, you silly girl."

"It is warded, though." Her voice sounded smaller and more pathetic than she'd intended.

Snape did not look impressed, his irritated scowl deepened further at her words. Couldn't he see that she was perilously close to throwing up on his shoes? Apparently he could. From the depths of his robes he produced a much needed headache potion, which she took thankfully. With the pain gone she was just exhausted, hardly on equal footing for any encounter with Snape. Trying to gather her wits together, she shot Snape a baleful look and offered him a seat, which he took with his usual dramatic sweeping motion.

Hermione regarded Snape with a look not unlike a lioness coming up on prey. "The Headmaster told me that it could be done and that the school was warded. I don't understand how I could have made enough noise to bring you stalking up from the dungeons."

"Ms. Granger, once again your mind had jumped ten steps ahead and completely missed the logical begging." Snape settled himself in the chair, an overstuffed concoction of oriental crimson silk, and gave her the look he usual reserved for students who melted cauldrons. "It looks as though I am going to have to deliver a tutorial on things that should already be quite apparent. Perhaps you should make tea, make this as pleasant as is possible in such unpleasant circumstances."

Hermione wasn't sure if she should be insulted, a thought she didn't pursue as it was in her best interests to listen to what he had to say. Uncharacteristically she set about making tea without a word, while Snape looked dispassionately around the room in silence. Only when she'd presented him with a teacup and saucer, did he speak. "Tell me, how exactly did your abilities manifest? What sort of incident occurred to your younger self that can now be explained away as magic?"

Not trusting her stomach after her previous nausea, Hermione decided against taking tea herself and curled her feet up beneath her on the chair. She thought back, trying to remember the details of the event. "I remember, I was so mad at my Mum. She insisted on these terrible French lessons when all the other girls were taking piano lessons, or ballet. She wouldn't let me eat dinner until I'd read the designated chapter my tutor left. So I glared at the book, set to have a nasty row with my mother or at least starve myself to make a point. Anyway, I sort of stared through the book."

"You saw through the book?" Snape asked, the flicker of amusement on his face was enough to make her blush.

She shook her head. "Not exactly. I sort of burned through the book, straight through. The pages smoked and everything."

"Natural, unrestrained magic is unpredictable when provoked," Snape said in a tone well used on pupils in the past. In his lap he cradled the teacup, but didn't drink from it. "The sheer amount of raw power that released in those instances, leaves a signature like a beacon in the vibrations that are produced. The wards you so recklessly put up are against such vibrations from the signatures left by magic as well as against natural vibrations and those produced by man made implements."

"The Headmaster said that the wards on the school stop such things from leaking out."

He nodded in agreement. "That is why only myself and Albus received the brunt of your actions. As a witch the vibrations you'd produce would just be the more focused equivalent to all those found in nature. Possession words changes, amplifies the power and signature." He paused to breathe, draw out his point and make sure of her attention. "The noise, if you will, leaves the natural realm and enters into the realm where only those with similar power can hear the sound."

She had her lips pursed in thought. It made complete sense, what he was saying, and that left her feeling more than a little foolish. Better that she had made the mistake where it was safe for her to do so, but what sort of commotion had she caused in the forest? In her mind she could still see the moon from that night, see the glimmer of light like liquid on the edges of the Death Eaters mask. When she'd screamed she's lost sight of the moon, the wand, the woman about to kill her. All she'd felt was the presence of the power she'd wanted to kill, her fight instinct pushing her power where rational thought would have stayed her hand.

In the chair opposite, Snape was watching her with calculating black eyes. "There is no doubt that Voldemort saw you when you killed your attacker. Albus knew the minute that Arabella died, but even I could hear your scream of attack."

The irrational desire to cry was hard to squelch, but she managed with only the rigid set of her shoulders giving her unease away. Snape set his untouched tea aside, and spoke to her in a low voice. Later Hermione would wonder if it had truly sounded compassionate, or if in her wound up state she'd imagined it. "You are safe while you are here, Ms. Granger. Voldemort will not attack the school when he escalates his these attacks to the war he wants. You have things that belong to him, things that he will try very hard to retrieve but above all else you are safe here."

Standing, his imposing height dwarfed the sitting girl. It was almost comforting to have him towering over her, a stark reminder that some things never changed. His non-threatening demeanor was the only difference from potions classes past. He dropped a reassuring hand somewhat awkwardly on her shoulder, and spoke in a tired, velvet voice. There was an engaging, serious light in his eyes. "When he attacks it will be in that sorcerous realm, in the ambience that belongs to the words. The battle will be with those who can oppose him there, before this sanctuary will falter and your Mr. Potter is called upon to try his hand at being the savior of the wizarding world."

"I'll be safe here," Hermione managed to mutter, somewhat dumbly. She'd reached the point where her thought process was running to fast to speak out loud. On top of it all, her headache was returning with full force, despite the potion.

Snape could see the furrow of thought in her brow and was not unaffected to see her at a complete loss for words. The flicker of amusement that had threatened his features earlier won over and spread into a grim smile. "You'll be safe from yourself here, just kindly give warning when you decide to magically scream and shout. It would be service to myself as well as Albus, I am sure."

She nodded and watched as he left her quarters, apparently satisfied with the information he'd given her. It was too much information for her to digest, the heavy throb behind her eyes was driving her to distraction and she couldn't find the energy to move from the chair. Settling on laying her head on the arm of the chair, she savored the cool feel of the silk and regarded the full teacup on the desk. Severus Snape was certainly not who she'd thought he was.

Losing the battle for wakefulness to her bodies demands, Hermione fell into a deep sleep curled up in her chair. For once her sleep was blessedly free of dreams.

***