"You wanted to see me Headmaster?" Severus Snape stood in the doorway to Albus Dumbledore's office, looking slightly put out for having had to walk all the way from his dungeon to the upper floors of the castle.
"Yes, Severus. Do come in." Snape stepped forward, and Dumbledore motioned for him to sit down in the chair across from his own. "Tea?"
"No." Snape sat in stony silence, staring at the headmaster in melancholy. Socializing had never been his forte. Dumbledore could not help but marvel at the difference between Severus and James every time he looked upon the greasy Potions Master. James had been so likable, and though Dumbledore enjoyed the company of Snape, he knew there were many others who found him too intense to bear.
"It has come to my attention, Severus, that certain information has escaped the confinement it was supposed to eternally enjoy." Dumbledore smiled across the table and cocked his head slightly, waiting to hear the potentially volatile reaction he was certain Snape had spent considerable time preparing.
"Yes, sir. The Granger girl was meddling in affairs as usual and got her nose somewhere that it did not belong, as you well know. I suggest that we perform a simple spell to erase her memory, and then there won't be any danger of the world finding out my relation to the Potter boy." Snape practically spat the last two words as though they were vile poison.
"Come now, you know that Hermione will not be indiscreet about spreading such information about, for she thinks that such knowledge would be detrimental to Harry."
"All the same, sir, I would feel better knowing that the secret was once again safe. Can you imagine the problems it would cause were The Dark Lord to find out about my blood bonds to Harry Potter? It could seriously affect the work I have been doing for the Order." Snape looked disgusted and annoyed.
"Severus, I am sorry, but I feel that the secret is safe. I will not permit any memory-altering charms to be used on Hermione Granger. She considered doing such a thing just recently, and I would not allow it, nor will I allow you to perform the magic. Sometimes things happen for reasons we do not see, and we must learn to live with the consequences until we can find meaning in the reasons. I expect you to live by my wishes." Dumbledore smiled benignly, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, I am afraid I have detained you far longer than I expected to. You may go now."
Snape stood up in disgust, knowing that his audience was over and that he was even further from ridding himself of his problem than he had been before. He did not quite know what to do. All he knew was that it was a situation that could not be tolerated.
* * *
"Hermione, aren't you going to Hogsmeade with everyone else?" Ginny Weasley stepped up behind the brown-haired girl and tapped her on the shoulder. "Come on, put those books down and grab your cloak. It won't hurt you to stop studying for a bit and get some fresh air. I'm sure you're way ahead of everyone else anyway." She smiled brightly. "Mum's just sent me some money for my birthday, and I need to get a new quill. Come with me and we'll have a butterbeer afterwards."
Hermione sighed and drug her books up the stairs to her room, grabbing her cloak. She was way ahead on her studying, and the idea of spending a day outside of the castle did have some appeal. Snape had been practically haunting her lately, chasing her down the corridors and penalizing her for so many indiscretions the Professor McGonagall, who rarely stepped in on behalf of a student had given the Potions Master a lecture about harassment and warned him to confine his punishments to real offenses that deserved correction. Hermione almost giggled at the thought of running into Snape in the Three Broomsticks. She was certain that as long as they steered clear of the Hog's Head they would be safe. "Ready," she said cheerily as she descended the stairs.
"Well, well," said Ron. "Looks who's decided to take her nose out of a book for what I think must be the first time this year and join us." He grinned slightly. "I didn't think you'd be coming Hermione. You might have some homework for next year you haven't finished yet you know."
She chose to ignore him as they walked through the great hall and out the front doors, crossing the front lawn to reach the carriages. It was a lovely day out; unseasonably warm, and the lake glittered with the morning sunshine. The giant squid was lazily doing laps to the delight of some first years.
When they arrived at the village, Ginny and Hermione headed off to the quill shop while Ron and Harry made their way to Zonko's, the four of them agreeing to meet up and hour later in the Three Broomsticks. Ginny was indecisive over which quill to select, and Hermione began to grow bored and started browsing through the shelves littered with parchment and inkwells. She marveled at the many inks and papers which had been created with the cheater in mind. She lifted a sheaf of self-neatening parchment to read the description on the back when a small gold glimmer beneath where the package had been laying caught her eye. There lay a thin red leather-bound book entitled "A Wizard's Guide to Writing with the Spirit". Intrigued by the many quotations and helpful suggestions, she purchased the book at the front counter while Ginny paid for a quill that automatically corrected your spelling and grammar.
"What's in the bag, Hermione?" Ginny asked as they made their way to the pub.
"While I was waiting for you, I started looking at all of the different parchments in there. I picked a package up to read the description on the back, and there was this little book under there called "A Wizard's Guide to Writing with the Spirit". I started leafing through it, and it seemed like it could give me hints on adding a more interesting personal angle on some of my homework assignments, so I bought it," she said earnestly.
"Hermione, do you ever think that maybe you try too hard?" Ginny asked her with a concerned smile.
"No." Hermione replied without a trace of humor.
The two girls reached the door to the Three Broomsticks and struggled through the crowd to find a table for four, as Ron and Harry had yet to arrive. They sat down and ordered a round of butterbeer, talking amiably about classmates, friends and enemies. Hermione enjoyed spending time alone with Ginny occasionally. It was nice to share a little girl talk and not have to focus on quidditch for a while.
She heard the chair beside her move, and she smiled and turned her head to greet her friends. Who she saw instead quickly soured her expression. "Hello, Malfoy."
"Hey Granger. Weasel Queen." Ginny made a face and gestured rudely with her hands at Malfoy. Their group of friends had an ongoing feud with Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins, and it seemed there was no end in sight. "Just dropping by to check up on you."
"Why?" asked Ginny. "Just leave us alone. We don't want trouble, Draco. Unless you have something important to say, get away." Her eyes were cold as ice. Ginny Weasley was sweet and kind, but, after growing up with six brothers, she was as hard as nails when provoked.
"What are you doing over here, Malfoy?" Harry walked up behind the blond boy.
"Is he bothering you?" Ron asked the girls, "Or is it just me?"
"Manners Potty, Weasel King. I'm just doing my duty." He sighed mightily. "I'm afraid that while everyone else gets to enjoy a little respite from the rigors of school I am being forced to spend my day of leisure working."
"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron's face was as red as his hair. "You know that prefects are allowed to relax here just as much as anyone. Or have you forgotten that Hermione and I are prefects to? You can't gain a sympathy vote from us like you might be able to from your little Slytherin friends. We know the truth."
Malfoy smiled maliciously. "Do you, Weasley? You see, I'm not acting as a prefect today; I'm just here to see what it is you're talking about. I've been told to monitor your conversations and report back to my "employer"." His eyes glinted wickedly.
"Yeah, right. Like anyone would care about anything we have to say. Get over yourself, Malfoy." Harry pulled the chair Draco was occupying away from the table. "Now if you'll excuse me, you're in my seat." He moved as though to sit, but Malfoy remained where he was, leaving Harry in a bit of an awkward position from which he recovered as smoothly as possible. "I said get up."
"No, Potty. You see, I'm afraid that won't be possible. Professor Snape asked me to hang around, you see, and as a prefect, I can't disobey my head of house."
* * *
"I can't believe Snape is going around monitoring everything we're saying? What is it with him anyway? He's been acting paranoid all term. First he constantly harasses Hermione, then he send Draco to make sure we're not saying whatever it is he doesn't want us to say. And to top it all off, he actually just ignores Harry now. It's almost as though he doesn't exist when we're in class. I'm sure you don't mind mate, but it's a bit odd, don't you think?" Ron was fuming as they made their way up to Gryffindor tower, their afternoon in the village having been cut short by Malfoy's appearance. They had left the pub shortly after he had made his announcement, but he had proceeded to follow them everywhere they went until they decided the best course of action would be simply to return to their common room, where he defiantly was neither allowed nor welcome.
"I just don't get it." Harry mused. "Why Malfoy? If Snape's worried we might be discussing the Order, I would think that that git would be the last person he would send to ensure it's security. His dad's a Deatheater, after all."
"I still think you should go tell McGonagall, Hermione," said Ginny. "She told Snape not to harass you anymore, and this definitely qualifies as harassment.
"No," said Hermione. "We don't even know for sure that Snape actually sent him. Draco might have just been making it up to make us paranoid. Besides, I can't go running to McGonagall every time Snape bothers me. After a while, she just wouldn't care anymore." Hermione alone knew, or at least had a strong suspicion why Snape had sent Malfoy spying. She assumed he hadn't really expected him to spy at all, merely to deter her from exposing the fact that he was Harry's uncle. She smiled wanly at her friends. "Look, if he does it again, the first thing I'll do is run and fetch McGonagall. Like I said, Malfoy might just be trying to play a trick on all of us. Maybe his father wanted to see if we had something we were worried about people like Malfoy overhearing."
The other three murmured in assent, and Hermione knew that, this time, she had been saved. Inside she shuddered slightly. She wondered if she would be strong enough to maintain the charade much longer.
* * *
Professor Snape was up late working in his office when he heard a knock on his door. "Come in," he said, somewhat surprised, for the hour was late, and he rarely entertained visitors down in the dungeons. Usually, everyone complained of rheumatism and made him journey to them.
The door swung open with a loud squeal from the rusty hinges, and Hermione Granger stepped through the threshold, holding a length of silvery material in her hand. "Why, Ms. Granger," said Snape neutrally, "I didn't know that you had taken up Potter's habits of roaming the hallways freely disguised by that cloak. I think you should turn it over to me, and then make your way back to your dormitory." He reached his hand out for the invisibility cloak, but she held it protectively to her chest as if to say "MINE".
"Very well, then," said Snape. "Keep the cloak and be going. I don't have time for petty interruptions right now." He turned his face back to the desk, staring blankly at the parchment below. Mentally, he chided himself. He was losing a bit of his edge, it seemed. Right now, he really didn't even care about punishing her. "Must be getting old," he muttered to himself. He looked up a moment later, now growing angry. "What are you still doing here? I ordered you to get out of my sight. Next time, I won't be so kind. I don't care what McGonagall told me about leaving you be, I'm sure it wouldn't apply when you are up roaming out of your bed." He glared nastily at her, wiping his greasy bangs back from his eyes. "Now leave at once!"
"No." Hermione's voice was as cold as steel, and her eyes were as hard. "I want to talk to you about what happened in Hogsmeade this morning. Why did you send Draco Malfoy to follow me?"
Snape sighed. "I though that you would understand by now that the world can't be let in on the little secret we are sharing now. I knew Draco would be the greatest deterrent for you, and I also knew that you would be able to use any number of excuses to explain his presence that day. I don't trust you. Dumbledore might think that you valiant, loyal and intrepid, but I am not so keen you and the rest of Potter's little band of troublemakers."
Hermione moved closer to the desk, her steps halting and tenuous. When she reached the side, she leaned across and stared Snape in the eye. "Professor, please. I swear I will never tell Harry or anyone else what I know. I think it would hurt him more than I could ever imagine. I know the ramifications would reach beyond his feelings as well. You could lose everything. The Order could lose everything. I feel that the price for my telling would be more than I could bear."
Snape looked up and for a moment felt a twinge of something fleeting that disappeared as quickly as it had come. For the moment, however, he was a bit more disposed towards humanity. "Fine. No more having Draco follow you around under the pretense that you've been casting memory enhancing charms on students to help them with their exams. I'll tell him that you have been dealt with firmly, which should please his father, and that will be the end. Are you satisfied?"
Hermione could have easily said yes, but she was proud and she stood her ground. "No. Tell me you believe me."
"Don't talk back to me, Ms. Granger, or you will find yourself in a much more sorry position than the one you presently hold, that I can assure you of."
She leaned closer so that he could feel her breath upon his face. She spoke lucidly and with such enhanced enunciation it was as though she were speaking to a child. "Tell. Me. You. Believe. Me."
"Get out, Ms. Granger, or the consequences will be serious." He stared at her stonily. "No, I am not playing, and I do not trust you enough to believe you. Now leave." He stood up and grabbed her arm with a bit more force than was necessary, aiming her towards the door. Hastily, she pulled Harry's invisibility cloak over her. Snape considered confiscating it, but decided against the action. Though he would have loved to see her pay for her lack of respect, he knew questions would be raised regarding just why she was visiting his office under cover of invisibility in the dead of night, and those were questions he wasn't ready to answer.
* * *
"What are you reading now?" Ron Weasley asked Hermione Granger as he peered over her shoulder at the text she had purchased from the quill and stationary shop in Hogsmeade.
"I picked this up because I thought it would help me with my writing, but so far I haven't found an interesting thing in it." She sighed and closed the red leather book. "Why?"
"I was just wondering if you wanted to take a walk with me and try and catch some rule-breakers. We've been neglecting our prefect duties lately, you know." Ron raised his red eyebrows at her and smiled slightly. "What do you say?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "I say that you always neglected your prefect duties, and never before cared a bit that you did."
"Back then, though, I had you to pick up the slack. You've left me in a bit of a bind, Hermione. Being a Prefect's a lot more work when you're not doing it all."
Hermione sighed loudly. "Fine, Ron, we'll go for a walk. But it has to be a short one. I wouldn't want Snape catching me running amok on the grounds late at night in the mood he's been in lately.
"That's the spirit. Come on, we can bring Harry and his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map." He turned to the other side of the room, "Oy, Harry, come on mate."
Harry looked skeptical, but excused himself from the conversation he had been having with Ginny and walked over to his two best friends. "What's going on?"
"We're planning a little walk. Are you up for it?"
Harry grinned and raced up the stairs to fetch his mischief making accessories. Hermione wasn't at all inclined to go along with this, but she didn't want the others to think she had completely lost her spirit so she smiled unenthusiastically hoping they wouldn't notice her lackluster attitude.
"See you in a bit, Ginny," said Harry as they headed for the portrait.
"How come I never get to go along," the red head sulked.
"Because you're not a prefect," Ron suggested.
Ginny wasn't impressed. "Neither is Harry."
Ron sighed. "Because you're not old enough then. Go on, leave us alone."
The three crawled through the portrait hole, Harry covering himself quickly with the invisibility cloak as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Hermione wondered if Harry had noticed the brief absence of the garment, but decided he hadn't, for she was confident that he would have attributed its disappearance to something sinister. Their footsteps always seemed to echo when they were surrounded by the silence of night in the castle. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Ron recited as he tapped the map with the tip of his wand.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Harry.
Ron looked over at the empty spot where his friend's voice had come from. "Do what? You gave me the map to use."
"Yes, but I'd rather you let Hermione activate it. One of these days you'll light it on fire or something." Ron scowled but said no more, knowing the ribbing was good-natured. Besides, he couldn't help it if his ward were once again bound together with spellotape.
"Looks like no one's out and about tonight," said Ron his tone disappointed and his face looking rather crestfallen. "Don't you know how much I would love to catch Malfoy doing something he shouldn't be after all those choruses of 'Weasley is our King' last year?" He sighed tiredly. "I would just love to get him in trouble for something. He's always slipping out of punishment just because his father his money. It just isn't fair. My father would have money to if he were as wicked as the Malfoys."
"I'd like to get Malfoy too, Ron. Maybe someday we'll get a chance."
"Harry, I hate when you wear that thing," Ron shook his head. "It still gives me the creeps. It makes me feel like I'm talking to thin air." Suddenly, he jerked to a halt. "Hush, mate. Snape alert."
The Potions Master was heading in the direction of the three students, looking disgruntled. "What are you doing roaming the halls Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger?" He looked around as though trying to find something, and began randomly jerking his arms, which Harry narrowly avoided, backing into a wall as far as he could go. "And where is Potter? I know he's here somewhere under that blasted cloak of his. He couldn't bear to be left out of anything." Snape's lip curled. "So arrogant, just like his father. So wanting for undeserved attention. Everything always had to be about James, just as it always must concern Harry."
Hermione cringed, knowing that Snape was baiting Harry to show his face by degrading his father. She hoped that her friend wouldn't fall for it, but she knew better than to believe he would be satisfied to remain silent. Sure enough, "How dare you speak about my father that way! You're just jealous that he was a great man and you're not. You didn't even know him, anyway. He was just someone you went to school with, and you didn't happen to get along. Come off it for once, will you?"
Hermione winced. Ron turned away. Snape fumed. "How dare you speak to me in that tone, Potter. I knew your father better than you ever did, and I know what he really was. I don't feel the need to glamorize him just because he's dead, or just because he's the father of the oh-so-wonderful boy who lived. I would love it if everyone else would just forget about the miraculous role you played in the defeat of the Dark Lord. You did nothing. You were merely a baby who had the right mother and was in the right place at the right time. It would make me ever so happy if, for just once, Professor Dumbledore did not see fit to let you run about the school doing as you wish at all times. Fifty points from Gryffindor for being in the hallway after curfew unauthorized."
Harry growled low and animalistic ally in his throat, but said no more, knowing his words would never bring reason and would only result in further punishment. He didn't wonder that his father and Snape had been bitter enemies. The picture he carried of his father was as vast a contrast of Snape as he could possibly create.
Despite Harry's subdued nature, Snape was not through dispensing reprimands. "As for you, Weasley, I will deduct 20 points for allowing Mr. Potter to roam the halls freely. As a prefect, it is your duty to patrol the corridors at this hour and send stragglers of to their beds. You, I see, are not performing that happy duty. Rather, you have actually accommodated Potter in accomplishing another of his various forays into rule bending. Might I also warn you three, nothing can bend forever without breaking."
Hermione glared at Snape, as though daring him to heap more punishment upon them. Suddenly, she felt the familiar waves of Snape's mind rushing over her, trying to force from her the memories she esteemed as private and dear. She remembered kissing Victor Krum beside the lake after the Tri Wizard Tournament. Then there was Sirius, falling through the curtain to his death, and that blasted Tree, reciting its story once again. She fought his onslaught with a sudden wave of strength. "Get out," she practically shouted, and he stumbled backwards a bit, their connection broken.
"Go back to Gryffindor tower at once," Snape bellowed, herding them in that direction, "Or Professor McGonagall shall hear about this."
The three, knowing what was good for them, scurried off, not stopping until they breathlessly crawled back through the fat Lady's Portrait. "What was that about Hermione?" asked Ron.
"He was doing it again, wasn't he?" Harry inquired, looking at her quizzically. "What does he want from you, Hermione?"
"I don't know," she said weakly, heading up the stairs to her bedroom.
Ron glared at her retreating figure. "She's lying," he said.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the squashy couch in front of the fire. "Of course she's lying," said Ginny. "But why?"
* * *
Hermione tossed and turned all night long, what little sleep she managed to get filled with dreams of Snape as Harry's uncle, trying to protect him from Voldemort. She sat up with a start, breathing deeply and covered in sweat as the others around her slept soundly on. Slowly, she crept out of bed and made her way downstairs to the fire. She had left her new book down there, and she felt that reading it might be just what she needed to coax her mind into sleep. Her hand clasped around the volume, and to her surprise, she found it was warm, as though she had just set it down on one of the common room tables. She stretched out on a soft couch, covering herself with a throw, and settled down to read.
It felt as though the world were twirling around her as she turned the pages. Suddenly, she found herself in a dark and lonely room. "Hello," she called out timidly. She thought she was dreaming but at the same time, fear gnawed at the pit of her stomach, for the scene before her had none of the ephemeral qualities of a dream. Somehow, she knew that whatever this was it was real.
Suddenly a man popped up before her. He looked perfectly human, perfectly normal. "Who are you?" she asked, mildly frightened.
"I am the spirit," he said simply, and shrugged. "You asked for me."
"How?"
He pointed to the red leather book which she still held in her hands. "A Wizard's Guide to Writing with the Spirit." He held his hands up like balance scales. "I guess you can see how it all works." He cleared his throat before continuing. "So, who is it you want to get in contact with?"
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, now totally perplexed.
He rolled his eyes. "This happens to me all of the time. Let me guess, you picked up the book because you thought it would show you how to bare your soul when you were writing, which would give your papers a much more exciting and readable angle." She nodded, dumbstruck, and he continued. "Little did you know that you were picking up something more, so much more than that. I can help you communicate to those beyond."
Hermione said nothing, just stared blankly. The spirit looked somewhat deflated. "Come on, don't you have anyone who's gone beyond that you'd like to talk with again?"
"Not really," she answered earnestly. "A friend of mine does though. Maybe it would be better if I were to give this to…"
The spirit cut her off. "How noble, but, alas, it just can't work like that. You see The Guide has its own agenda. It knows where it belongs when, and to whom it should belong to when it is there. Right now the guide was meant for you. If anyone else tries to use it, or if you try to in the presence of anyone else, all that will appear is a boring old moldering book." He raised one eyebrow and shrugged. "No, I don't know why you were chosen, but such is fate."
"Okay, then" said Hermione, "how does it work?"
"The book will remain in your possession for the specified amount of time, after which you will spontaneously lose and never again find it. While you have the book, you can tap it with your wand or simply begin reading it, and you will find yourself here, with me. I will give you some parchment and a quill, like so," he produced an ivory sheet of parchment and a lovely electric-blue quill, "And then you can proceed to write a letter to one who had gone beyond. I will deliver you letter, no peeking of course, and will return the following day with a response. If you fail to call upon me, you will have to re-write your letter, for I have a dreadful memory for the things people say. Any questions?"
Hermione had a million questions, but none that she felt like asking, or that were really relevant to the process, so she simply shook her head. "Splendid, the spirit said. You may begin."
She spent a considerable amount of time staring at the paper before her, deciding just what to write, and whom she should write it to. At last, an idea struck her and she touched her quill to the paper.
"Dear Mr. James Potter…"
* * *
Hermione was jittery the next day. She kept looking over her shoulder, clutching the little red book in her hands. She walked as though she had no clear idea of where to go, one moment heading in on direction, the next doing an about-face and heading in the other. In class, she jumped at small noises, and she became so ill with nerves that she was unable to attend potions.
" Weasley, where is Ms. Granger?" Snape hissed in Ron's ear, his eyes cold and harsh.
"She took ill, Sir. McGonagall sent her to Madam Pompfery last period because she turned white and started sweating like mad."
"Ha. A likely story." Snape spun on his heel and marched away.
"What is going on between the two of them?" Ron turned and stared at Harry, who was speaking rather loudly. "Something is defiantly up, but I can't quite figure out what it is."
"I know, mate," said Ron, "but maybe its best if we just leave them be and let them work it out for themselves, whatever it is."
"Ron, Hermione could be in trouble! We have to find out what it is Snape wants from her, and what lengths he's going to go to get it! I can't sit back and watch anymore, I have to do something."
"Typical," said a sneering voice behind them.
"But out, Malfoy," Ron snapped. "This conversation isn't any of your business."
"No?" Malfoy grinned leeringly. "Well, perhaps it would be Professor Snape's business then. After all, you are talking about him. Maybe I should just call him over here…"
"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry menacingly. "Don't talk to me again until you have something to say that's worth listening to."
"I might not have anything to say that you want to listen to, but it sounds like Granger does. What's the matter, Potty? Don't like being left out of something? You don't like it when you can't play the hero, or when some part of someone's life might not have anything to do with you?"
"Shut up Malfoy! I'm warning you…"
"Mr. Potter, I did not authorize you to dispense warnings in my class. Now kindly hold your tongue. Mr. Malfoy, don't let Potter distract you." Snape smirked evilly and then walked away to the front of the classroom.
"He's a git, that one," said Ron.
"Yeah," said Harry, "And Malfoy's just like him." He knew Malfoy was still listening, but he didn't care. He sighed heavily, and tried to return to his work, but he was finding it hard to concentrate.
"Harry, cheer up mate, you're not like that. Malfoy's just trying to get to you. You need to let it go." Ron smiled at him. "Come on, mate. Do your work or you'll have to spend all of Saturday with Snape in potions study."
Harry smiled thankfully at Ron and turned back to his cleaning potion. He and Snape had been careful to avoid each other lately, it seemed. He wasn't ready to upset the balance if he didn't have to.
* * *
Hermione sat in her deserted bedroom, confident that she would be alone for at least another two hour while the rest of her roommates were in Potions class. She opened the red leather book with trepidation, her breath short and catching in her chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she felt the familiar woozy sensation. "Hello?" she called out, still timid but with a bit more assurance than she had had the last time she had found herself in this room. "Spirit, are you there?"
Seconds later, the spirit arrived, clad in black wizarding robes this time instead of the muggle gear he had been sporting during his previous appearance. "Ah, Hermione. I knew you would be calling just now. How are you doing today?"
Hermione wanted to wave his question away and get to the important part, the reply from Harry's father, "Fine. What did Mr. Potter say."
The spirit shook his head as though forlorn. "They never want to actually talk with me," he muttered largely to himself. "All they want to do is use me to get at someone else. I do them a favor, and they can't even extend common courtesy to me."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
"No, no, my dear girl. Don't worry about it. I'm used to it by now." He smiled with considerable warmth, and Hermione found herself drawn to him as though she had known him her whole life. "Now, about James's reply." He handed her a glowing envelope with the words Ms. Hermione Granger written on the outside in maroon ink. "He was grateful for your letter by the way. So proud of Harry, that one."
Hermione made to put the letter in her robes, but the spirit stopped her. "Ah, a minor detail. You see, that letter is sort of on loan. You have to read t here, and then give it back."
"But, I wanted to give it to Harry."
"Yes. Well, that's all very good, but I'm afraid that that won't be possible. You see, there are two separate worlds, the world you live in, and the one in which those who have already left your world dwell. We can't go about taking things from one world and putting them in the other. It's only in special places such as this one that the two worlds can converge. Even here, they're not really converging. It's just that pieces of them can come together. If you take that letter to your world, it will simply disappear because it doesn't belong there." He paused for a breath, letting the implications sink in. "Now, be a good girl and go sit over there and read your letter. Tell me if you'd like to write another when you've finished." He turned his back, staring into a handheld mirror and speaking in a language Hermione could not make out.
She walked slowly over to a corner that was as far from him as she could get. Slowly, she tore through the envelope's seal, her fingers shaking slightly. She pulled a single sheet of paper out, and carefully unfolded it. For uncountable minutes, she stared at the paper before beginning to read. After finishing, she re-read it, deliberately pressing herself to memorize all of the important details it contained. Finally, she re-folded the letter along the original creases and placed it back in the envelope. She cleared her throat softly, waiting for the spirit to turn around.
"Ah, finished I see. Would you like to write another?" He smiled kindly at her.
"No, thank you. I'll just, just stick with this one for now, I guess." Her voice was wavering slightly, and she found herself having trouble putting the words together.
"It's always difficult the first time, dear," the spirit said. "You'll find it gets easier as you go along." He winked at her, placed the letter inside his lapel, and tapped his hand mirror with a finger.
Suddenly, Hermione found herself back in Gryffindor tower. The clock on her bedside table indicated that the other girls would be returning any moment now. She drew the curtains shut around her bed just before she heard the door creak open. "Hermione?" Parvati's inquiring voice called out in a loud whisper.
Hermione couldn't find the strength to answer. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep in case one of her chamber mates should pull backs the drapes. She sat silently, hardly daring to breathe. At last, she heard Parvati's footsteps retreat from the room, the door softly thudding shut behind her. Only then did Hermione release a loud "Whew.."
* * *
Hermione tried to concentrate on her school work the next day, but she kept stealing glances at Harry, distracted by the mere sight of him. After reading the letter from his father the evening before, she had felt so emotionally drained that she had actually been able to sleep the full night through for the first time since the beginning of the term. She felt guilty now as she sat between her two best friends in transfiguration. It was bad enough to be forced to keep the secret about Snape from Harry. Worse still was not being able to tell him about contacting his father.
She had read the letter thoroughly and carefully, and the message in it was clear. James Potter had never intended to tell Harry of his relationship with Severus Snape, and he wished for Hermione to comply with his wishes. He felt that the knowledge would only bring pain, hurt and suffering as it had for both him and Severus. She wished she could tell Harry about the rest of the letter James had written, about the pride he felt for Harry and the hopes he held for his future. She wanted to be able to tell her friend that he had never been alone, even through all of those dark days in the Dursley household. James had indeed been constantly watching over him.
She knew better than this, however. No matter how she phrased the conversation with Harry in her mind, it inevitably led to more questions from him, questions which always led to his discovery of the blood bonds he shared with Snape. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't share the good with Harry without divulging the bad, and she felt it more important to be discreet about Snape than it was to be open about James. In either case, Harry was happy enough not knowing.
Suddenly, she was brought out of her trance by a sharp rap on the surface of the table next to her. "Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagall said looking not at all kindly," would you care to complete your work, or are you going to simply stare into space until the end of the period?"
Hermione's cheeks burned with shame, and she set to work quickly transfiguring a quill into a large whooping crane. For the first time since her arrival at Hogwarts, she was actually having difficulty, a point which Ron was all too keen on.
"Oy, Harry! Look, Hermione's Crane is just a chick. Mine's even better than that. At least it's full grown, even if it is missing a wing." All around them, people turned to stare. Hermione knew her friend's jab was meant to be harmless but it filled her with hurt and despair. Even this she couldn't do right. For the rest of the period she worked aimlessly, never quite getting the process down pat. She and Neville were the only members of the class to be assigned extra homework.
Ron tried to cheer her up on the way to potions. "What have you got to sulk about, Hermione? Extra homework should be right up your alley. You're always trying to make your work harder than it is anyway. This time, you don't even have to make up something more to do." Hermione refused to be cheered, and Ron at last gave up trying.
To call potions a disaster would be making little of it. Again, Hermione was unable to do anything right. Her hands shook as she added ingredients, she stirred the mixture the wrong directions and the wrong amounts of time. Before she was even through, her cauldron began to bubble over, and she felt as though she were going to break down, right there in front of the entire class. As Snape drew closer and closer she could feel something inside pulling tighter and tighter as though making ready to snap. This was the end of the line. She could take no more.
The attack on her mind came more subtly this time. Again he tried to sneak in past her defenses. This time, she made only a weak effort to stop him. She was facing memories she didn't even know she had, battling demons she had long ago forgotten. Suddenly, tears came pouring down her face as she begged him to stop, just stop.
To her amazement, he did. She felt his mind pull away from hers. He leaned in nearer to her. "We have things we must discuss, Ms. Granger. Be in my office tonight at 8:30. Clean this mess up, now; it's burning a hole in my table." He swished away, pausing only to glare nastily at Dean and Seamus who were writing notes to one another in the front of the room.
Hermione flicked her wrist and cleared away her ruined potion. With only five minutes to go, she didn't even bother to start again. Malfoy walked past her, jeering. "So, they've finally found something that even a mudblood like you couldn't do. I guess some things were only meant for the pure." She said nothing, though she was fuming inside, and hung her head in shame. Ron and Harry hadn't heard a thing.
At last she picked up her books and fell into step beside her two friends. "I need to go to the library and work on all this extra homework. I'll see you at dinner this evening."
"Anything we can do to help?" Harry asked before she could quite get away.
She smiled ruefully. "No, but thank you."
"Hermione, maybe after dinner we could have a game of wizard's chess," Ron suggested. "it'd do you good to have a bit of fun now and then."
"I'm sorry, Ron, but I can't. I have to meet Professor Snape at 8:30 this evening."
"Why? I din' hear him say anything about it in class. He always makes such a big deal out of punishing people."
"I don't know. I think it's because I did so poorly on my assignment this afternoon," she lied weakly. "Anyway, I'll see you at dinner." She turned and walked up the large marble staircase towards the library.
"That's it," said Harry. "I've had enough of this. Whatever secret she and Snape have, I'm going to find it out tonight."
Ron looked at him in askance. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Harry? Maybe we're better off not knowing."
"I don't care, Ron. I think Hermione's in trouble. She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep, and she hasn't been herself since the beginning of the year. I know he has something to do with it, and I'm going to find out what it is. Why else would he suddenly be giving her so many detentions and be trying to read her mind all the time." He stopped and glared at Ron, who still looked suspicious as to his motives. "Look, Ron, I just want to make sure Hermione's not in danger. Dumbledore may trust Snape, but I don't. My father obviously didn't trust him, and didn't want anything to do with him. There must have been a reason for that. I can't let him hurt Hermione."
Ron sighed in defeat. "You're right. What are you going to do? You can't just barge in there during her detention. Snape would kill you."
"Oh, don't worry Ron. I'll be there, but no one will know it except me, and now you, thanks to the invisibility cloak."
* * *
Hermione Granger made her way down to the dungeons at 8:30 sharp, wanting neither to be late or early. She was still feeling weak and deflated, though a bit of her emotional strength had returned after spending the afternoon alone. She shuddered when she thought of what was in store for her: the mind-digging, the accusations. She wondered why Snape couldn't understand that she would never tell Harry. Perhaps, tonight, after he learned of the letter to James he would at last let it go.
She turned her head, feeling as though she were being followed. Stop it, she told herself. This was getting ridiculous. All of the anxiety she had been harboring as of lately was now manifesting itself as paranoia. She stopped in the hallway and slumped against a wall. She had to pull herself together before she could face Snape.
After regaining her composure, she rapped on the heavy wooden door that separated the greasy potions master from the rest of the world. "Come in, Ms. Granger," he said with an air of boredom. She hung in the doorway for a moment. "Hurry up now," he snapped. "We've got a lot to discuss, and we don't have forever to do it in. Make your way in and shut the door."
She did as she was told, feeling a light breeze beside her as she turned the latch. Involuntarily, a shiver slid down her spine. She wondered if it was always this drafty down here. She wished Snape would light a fire in his hearth just to ward off the damp chill she now felt on the air.
"So," he said, eyes nearly crazed, looming ominously over her, "what do you have to say for yourself?" He was inches from her, his pale face right in hers. She was desperate for an escape, but found her limbs feeling as though they were filled with lead. She was unable to move.
"I didn't tell him Professor! Why can't you just believe me?" She was biting her lip to keep from whimpering, which she knew would only make him feel stronger. "I'll never tell Harry, as long as I live. Especially not now…"
"What do you mean by that?" Snape snapped at her, grabbing her shoulders firmly but not violently.
Hermione raised her chin slightly, just slightly, feeling the balance of power wasn't resting in Snape's hands alone any longer. "I wrote a letter," she said.
Snape exploded. "Foolish girl! Now you've ruined everything. No one is supposed to know, and now, not only are you spreading the facts around, you're writing them down for all the world to see. At least if you had just been stupid enough to tell someone, it could have been denied or attributed to their lack of understanding. Now there's written proof." Snape looked at though he were going to spit, and Hermione quavered ever so slightly.
"I wrote a letter to James, professor."
"James who? What does it matter who you wrote that wretched letter to, so long as you did it. Everyone loves to hear stories about the Boy Who Lived," Snape said the last as though it were vile poison, rolling it on his tongue before continuing. "You don't think this will stay quiet for long do you?"
"Professor, please," Hermione pleaded, trying to reason some sense into the man, "James already knew. I didn't tell him anything that he was unaware of."
"Ha!" Snape shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "So, Dumbledore was wrong about you, just as I said he would be. I told him you would go running out telling others, just as you did this James fellow. When did you tell him? Right after it happened, I suppose. Didn't bother to ask what it meant, did you? You never bothered to think of the implications. All you wanted to do was spread some juicy gossip through the wizarding world." Snape looked triumphant, though still incensed.
"Stop it!" Hermione shouted back at him, hating him more than ever at that moment, though not quite comprehending why. "Professor, on the day you sent Draco to follow me in Hogsmeade, Ginny Weasley and I visited the quill shop before heading to the Three Broomsticks. While we were there, I purchased a book that I didn't know had magical powers."
Snape looked incredulous, and further irritated. "What does this have to do with anything, Ms. Granger? Let me guess, the book put you under a spell and made you spread the secret to this James, and all around the Gryffindor common room, and to Harry, is that right?" His teeth were gritted, his eyes flashing angry fire.
"Sir, please, if you would allow me to finish." He stopped his verbal onslaught for a moment, nodding ever so slightly, and she continued. "The book was entitled A Wizard's Guide to Writing with the Spirit. I thought it was a book about how to write from the heart. It is actually a book about how to communicate with those who have passed away through written letters delivered by a medium who calls himself "the spirit"." She could see Snape's mind clicking away as he put two and two together, but she finished the thought for him anyway. "I wrote a letter to Harry's father, James Potter. I told him about what I had seen, what I had found out. He begged me to keep the information from Harry. He said Harry was better off not knowing, and that things would only get muddled and confusing if he were to find out. He wanted Harry to know that his family had loved him, and not think that he could have had a life batter than the one he had had if you had just been kind enough to take him in after Lily and James's death. He could have been a part of this world, rather than going through the emotional torture he had to endure with his muggle relatives, the Dursley's. After I read that, I knew for sure that I could never tell Harry, though I had already come to that conclusion on my own. Who knows what kind of balance could be upset were he to find out."
Snape was quiet for a moment, contemplating. "You spoke to James?" he said finally, with a great deal of skepticism.
"Well, not exactly spoke. He corresponded back to me in a letter as well. We wrote to each other."
"And do you have this letter?"
"No. The spirit told me that things from the world beyond could not exist in our world, just as things from our world cannot exist in the world beyond. There are certain places, he said, where the two worlds can sort of converge. I go to one of those places when I open the book I was telling you about. When I'm there, I get parchment and a quill to write the letters. I come back the next day for the reply. After reading it, the spirit takes it back and destroys it."
Snape was looking more intrigued than furious now. "Assuming that it really was James you communicated with, what did he have to say?" It was true the two had never gotten along, but Severus felt that he had to know. It wasn't everyday you got to hear from those long-dead, after all.
"He said that he didn't want Harry to know, because he thought that it would only bring him pain and suffering, the same way that the knowledge had brought the two of you pain and suffering. Especially you, he said. He said that now he wished it could have been different. He never did like you, but he said death gives you a unique perspective about what is and isn't important in life. He said he didn't agree with your choices, but maybe he could see how you would be driven to consider such a life. He wished you had been given a chance." Hermione blushed, feeling the weight of the world and years of emotional scarring and trauma upon her shoulders.
Snape blinked. "James said that? About me? It sounds more like something he would say about one of his buddies than about his own brother."
Hermione could feel the pain radiating from Snape, and she almost felt sorry for him. "Professor, I'm sorry. Is there anything…"
Snape continued on talking as though she weren't even there. "He actually acknowledged I was his brother. Unbelievable."
"Yeah, It is," said a voice filled with anger and hatred from the far side of the room. Snape and Hermione quickly looked up in time to watch Harry peeling his father's invisibility cloak away from his body. "You see, my father had no brother." With that, he gathered the cloak up and ran for the door.
He bolted down the corridor, both Snape and Hermione chasing desperately after him, trying to stun his retreating figure. "Damn," said Snape. "How could you have let this happen? Why did you let him hear that?"
"I didn't know he was there," Hermione retorted,. "Didn't you hear anything I just said to you about not telling him because his father didn't want it to be so?"
"People say a lot of things," Snape sneered down his hooked nose. "Usually, what they do is a lot different."
"Never mind," said Hermione, now panting from the effort of running down the hall while bickering furiously with Snape. "We've got to find Harry."