The moment of happiness Hermione had felt during the return trip from the Headmaster's office had long since vanished. If anything, she felt more miserable than she ever had before and more alone than she had ever been in her life. Harry was still pointedly ignoring her, Ron was shrugging apologetically and following his lead, and, since what Snape believed to have been their outrageous escape from justice, the Potions Master's vehemence towards her knew no bounds.
Detention with Snape was terrible. He would lean over her, his hot breath rushing down her collar as she performed any number of mindless tasks to help prepare future lessons. She tried ignoring him, but he would have no part of her insinuations that he simply did not exist. He did the same with Ron, as well as trying to play them against each other.
"Look at Hermione's roots, Weasley. You would think that being a pure blooded wizard from a family that dates back generations in our world that you could do a bit better job than a muggle born witch." Ron would turn as red as hair, but say nothing, busily trying in vein to even out the slices of his roots.
'Look at Weasley, struggling over the simplest tasks. If you would stop showing off for once, it would spare him some humiliation." Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but then furiously turned back to her work knowing there was no point in confronting the Professor. It would only lead him to take away house points and increase the number of days she would be forced to serve in detention.
Though both Ron and Hermione knew what Snape was up two, speech between the two of them began to grow more strained as each felt that the absence of the other during their detention periods would make the hours spent in Snape's dungeon far more bearable. This combined with the ongoing feud between Harry and Hermione gave Ron an excuse not to speak to her at all.
Now, the three of them were in potions class, still sitting together but no longer talking to one another as they once had. Harry and Ron chattered on quietly while Hermione bit her lower lip and tended to her cauldron, feigning that their practice of blatant disregard towards her went unnoticed.
Furiously, she stirred the potion before her, watching Snape through her eyelashes without turning her face upwards as he headed towards her. She closed her eyes, hoping he would have passed her by when she opened them. Today, there would be no such luck. "Miss Granger," he said, blocking her view of the board where the instructions for concocting the potion were posted, "tell me, how many times the muting potion should be stirred counterclockwise after adding the eye of newt?"
"Seven, sir," she said, not bothering to look at her notes. She had made a habit of committing the potion instructions to memory; for she never knew when Snape would "accidentally" erase them, leaving the class helpless.
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing further, just stood in front of her cauldron, continuing to inhibit her ability to view the board. She knew he was waiting for her to ask him to move aside, but she did not. Without looking to any directions, she finished the potion from memory, bottled it in a vial, and turned it in upon the desk, careful to move it towards the center so that it could not be knocked off without a supreme effort by another student.
"Showing off again?" he asked her as she returned.
She hadn't been, he had simply left her with no choice. Still, she knew there was no point in arguing. She smiled politely, "as you say."
She had hoped that simply agreeing with him would lead him to glide away to another student, but it seemed as though he had targeted her for harassment that day. He looked at her unpleasantly, never averting his eyes. "Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes, Professor?" Gone was the arrogance so characteristic of Draco. Instead in the boy's voice there was noting but fealty and obedience towards his head of house. Hermione felt as though she were going to be sick simply by virtue of witnessing this farce.
Still, Snape would not look away from Hermione as he spoke to Draco. "Go to the desk and retrieve Miss Granger's potion. We will see how capable she is of correctly brewing a muting potion with no assistance from instructions. If she has done it incorrectly, she will be poisoned. If she has done it correctly, which is most unlikely, considering its complicated nature, she will not be able to talk for a few hours. Either way, the results are favorable." The Slytherins throughout the room laughed. A few of the Gryffindors looked as though they were considering a protest, but thought better of it with the prospect of their own potions being tested on them weighing over their heads. They knew that if anyone was likely to brew the potion correctly, it was Hermione.
Hermione swallowed hard, knowing that she had performed every step with precise exactness. Still, she wished she could steal just a glance at the board behind the Professor. It would take her only a moment to know if something had been done wrong.
Malfoy handed the vial to Snape. Snape poured a bit onto a measuring spoon he had extracted from a pocket deep within his robes. He smiled foully, looking smug and self-satisfied at his latest attempt to deceive her. Hermione shuddered inwardly. He was the personification of mean-spiritedness.
"Cheers, Miss Granger," he said evenly as he handed her the spoon. Without a second though, she poured the caustic liquid down her throat, deciding that the reason the potion rendered you speechless was that it burned away you vocal cords.
"Speak, Miss Granger," he said a moment later. Both he and Draco looked quite disappointed that she hadn't pitched forward dead after ingesting the liquid.
Hermione almost smiled. Now was her chance to say everything she had ever wanted to to Snape without his ever knowing, so long as the potion had worked. She took a deep breath, certain that the burning in her throat would prevent speech from escaping in any event, and told Snape off. "You horrible, foul, evil excuse for a teacher. You should be sentenced to life in Azkanban simply for the merciless way you treat your students everyday. Too bad you couldn't be more like your brother, or even your nephew for that matter. You are a sorry excuse for a wizard, and it pains me that I have had to have the displeasure of knowing you. And you, Draco, are an evil git."
"Very well," said Snape, who had heard nothing for Hermione's potion had worked perfectly. He scowled, looking as though Christmas had been canceled. "You may take you seat." His lips curled slightly. "I seem to have forgotten to prepare an antidote, so you will simply have to wit twelve hours for the potion to wear off."
Hermione didn't mind. She simply sat back at her desk, covering her mouth with her hand as though she were resting her head and "speaking" freely of Snape, thankful for a chance to vent without the fear of being overheard.
* * *
The next morning, Ginny was waiting for Hermione as she headed out of the portrait hole and down towards breakfast. "Is it true that Snape made you concoct your muting potion without looking at the directions and then he made you test it out on yourself?"
"Sort of," Hermione said modestly. "I did get to look at the board like everyone else up until about the middle of it. Then he came over and stood in my way."
"Parvati said she thought he wanted you to have done it wrong so you would be poisoned."
"I don't know."
"That's not right, Hermione! You should tell somebody." Ginny looked alarmed for her friend. 'What if he does it again, and he switches the bottles?"
Hermione laughed the question away. "Ginny, no matter how much Snape hates me, he isn't going to try to kill me. The only thing he would do is something like he did yesterday. Even then, unless I had done everything horribly wrong I don't think that that potion could have caused my death before someone would have taken me to see Madame Pompfery. Snape may be a lot of things, but he isn't a murderer."
"That we know of." Ginny looked only partly satisfied, but let it slide. "I see you and Harry still aren't getting along."
"No," Hermione said evenly. "I don't know what to say to him. Every time I even think about trying to make up with him, he looks the other way or starts talking loudly about disloyal friends who think they know what's best for him. He's being so stubborn and immature."
Ginny smiled wanly," do you want me to try to talk to him?"
Hermione thought on that for a moment, and then warmed towards the idea. "Would you? Maybe you can get a word in before he starts tearing me apart."
Ginny smiled, "I'll do my best."
* * *
"Get out of the way, Malfoy," Hermione ordered as she accidentally crashed into the boy while making her way to transfiguration. It seemed as though he had appeared out of nowhere.
"No apology, Granger?" he asked as he brushed off his robes as though she had covered them with something foul by virtue of their brief contact.
"Move, Malfoy," she repeated, side stepping to go around him. She didn't feel like playing games with him right now.
Malfoy stepped in front of her. It seemed strange to Hermione that in this crowded hallway their confrontation was going on unnoticed by the throngs of students passing by. He stepped closer to her, trying to intimidate her by getting directly in her face. "My father was quite disappointed in the disciplinary procedures that Dumbledore used against you and your little band of friends."
"Was he," Hermione asked rhetorically. She could have cared less about the how Draco's father felt in regard to the issue. Being a Deatheater, the man had escaped justice for crimes far more sever than the one committed by Ron and perpetuated by her little more than week ago.
"Yes," Draco replied as though he felt that she cared for an answer. "He thought that even Dumbledore would have to be a bit harder than that."
Hermione glared at him. "Which version of the story did you tell your father, Draco? Was it the one you told Snape, or was it the truth? Perhaps you crafted another one all together, seeing as you were so incapacitated by the shock and pain."
Malfoy smiled unpleasantly "A pity that you consider such belligerence to be necessary, Granger. It is not necessary, nor is it wise." He let that sink in for a moment, and then continued. "It doesn't matter what I told my father, though the version he received was far closer to the truth than the one I shared with Snape. I told him how I had involved Potter in the equation even though I knew that Scarhead was nowhere around. He was delighted."
Hermione had heard enough. She knew Malfoy was just trying to intimidate her, trying to make her feel uncomfortable as she walked the halls of the school. He didn't want her reporting in on any of the Slytherins, and he wanted her to feel that he was free to mildly torture her at will. She wasn't going to stand for it. "I said get out of the way, Malfoy. I have somewhere to be, and you should to." She moved to go around him again, but again he impeded her progress.
"First things first, Granger. I want an apology for your poor behavior last week."
"I'm sorry Malfoy," she saw his face twist about as he opened his mouth to gloat at her submission, and continued "but, no. I can't apologize to you unless you take back all of the things that you said about Ron and me."
Malfoy clenched his fists in fury. "Have it your way, Granger." He toyed with the end of his wand as though he were considering cursing her, but though better of committing such an act in a corridor teeming with people, at least one of whom was bound to see him. "I promise you, though, that I will get revenge."
He shoved into her as he walked away. The contact was forceful enough for her to know that it had been nothing if not deliberate. She rubbed her arm and continued on towards her class, reminding herself to speak with Ron and, to be cautious, Harry about watching out for themselves.
She wasn't afraid of Malfoy, but, given the history they all shared, she felt that, in this case, discretion was the better part of the famed Gryffindor valor.
* * *
"He wants you to apologize," Ginny told Hermione later that evening. 'he said that if you admit that you were wrong to keep that secret from him he will consider forgiving you."
"What?" Hermione said incredulously. "I have to admit that I was wrong, when I don't think I was so that he can consider forgiving me?"
Ginny nodded, "that's about the gist of it."
Hermione sighed. "Thank you for talking to him Ginny, but I can see that he's not ready to make up with me yet. If he were he wouldn't just 'consider' forgiving me."
Ginny looked down, "he's really angry with you Hermione. Maybe you should try talking to him. He's just over there plying chess with Ron again. He says that you and Ron have gotten into a row as well."
"Sort of," Hermione grumbled, remembering that both of her friends had become alienated from her thanks, at least in some part, to Snape.
"Go talk with him," Ginny urged. "I'll get Ron over here. He'll mean well, but he'll mess things up for you. Trust me." She turned towards her brother, "Oy, Ron. Come here."
Ron stood to walk over towards the two girls, and Ginny nodded at Hermione who likewise rose and headed for Harry. She passed Ron on the way, who muttered "this is going to be good." Hermione ignored him and continued on.
"Harry," she said hesitantly. It had been weeks since the two of them had spoken directly, and right now even being near him felt extremely uncomfortable.
"Hermione," he replied, his tone not offering her any hope of reconciliation.
She sighed. "We really need to talk, Harry."
"What's there to talk about? You'll just lie anyway. Anything you think I can't handle you'll hide from me." He turned away from her and stared angrily out the window.
"That isn't very fair Harry," she said, trying to keep her voice from cracking. She didn't know whether she should be angry or sad.
He looked at her again, his eyes haunted. "Guess what, Hermione. Life isn't very fair."
"I know that Harry."
"Do you?" He asked, turning his full attention to her for the first time. "Do you really know that Hermione, or is it just something that you vaguely understand because you read it in some book somewhere and it stuck with you? Did you put it on a flashcard and memorize it like you do everything else, or is it something you have experience with that you could really understand?"
"Harry," she said evenly, trying not to let the desperation she felt creep into her voice, "Everyone whose been alive for any length of time at all understands that life isn't always fair."
"Do they now?" He asked, sounding as though he were on the verge of explosion. "Is that something everyone can understand, Hermione? Can you understand why I would think that life isn't fair?"
"Yes, Harry, I think…"
He continued as though she had not spoken. "Do you understand how it feels to have your parents killed by Lord Voldemort? Do you understand how it feels to have to live with an Aunt, Uncle and Cousin how could care less about you unless it's time for you to do something for them and you're nowhere to be found? Oh, I know, maybe you understand what it's like when they try to keep you from returning to Hogwarts year after year. How about thinking you have a chance at a happy life with your godfather, then having him taken away not once but twice, once to hide and once to die. You understand what it's like to find out that Snape is you relative, don't you? You know how it feels to know that your father and godfather both hated him, yet you share his blood. I bet that you understand what it's like when one of your best friends knows about this, yet chooses not to tell you because they think it might hurt your feelings. Instead, they discuss it with Snape himself, then with two of your other friends. Above all, I'm sure that you understand how it feels to break into your new uncle's office and look into his pensive and discover that not only did he not care about you, his nephew, after his brother, your father, died, he was disgusting enough to be glad that your parents were dead." Harry's fake smile was sickening, as was his tone of voice. "You understand all of that, don't you Hermione?"
'Harry, I didn't mean that I know what it's like to be you. I just meant that we all have our difficulties and we all have to bear them in our own ways and do what we think is best." She emphasized the last part.
He said nothing.
"Harry, I did what I thought wads best. I never meant for you to find out about Snape being your uncle. If you hadn't come in to Snape's office to spy on the two of us that night, you wouldn't have known. I would have never told Ginny and Ron if I didn't know that you already knew! You know me better than that, Harry!"
His eyes softened for a brief moment, and he appeared to consider her words. All too quickly, the cold hardness reappeared. "I don't know anyone anymore, Hermione. I don't even know who I am."
"Harry, please," she said, her heart reaching out for him. "try to understand."
"I think you should leave now, Hermione. I don't really want to talk to you, and I don't want to understand." He turned his back to her. "Please, just go."
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said. She wasn't sorry for keeping the secret about Snape from him. Instead, she was sorry that he had found out, for the consequences had turned out to be far more dire than she could have ever imagined. When she had looked into her friend's eyes, she had seen no trace of the resilient Boy Who Lived. In his place was The Boy Who Was Broken.
"Just go," he whispered. "You've done enough all ready."
Hermione felt the tears starting to flow and she waved away the concerned looks of the Weasley siblings, fleeing up the stairs to grieve in solitude.
* * *
. "Well, that went well," Hermione moaned to Ginny the next morning. "He hates me."
"He does not." Ginny was indignant.
"He might as well have come right out and said so. He didn't want to listen to anything I had to say. All he wanted to do was argue with me and tell me how didn't understand his life, and how no one else had to bear the burden he does."
Ginny just looked at her.
Hermione sighed. "It's not that I don't agree with him on some points, Ginny. It's just…I don't know. It isn't fair for him to begrudge me for not understanding his life when he doesn't get angry at other people for the exact same thing. He said no one understands. If no one understands, then why is he only angry with me?" She thrust her head into her hands and moaned softly. "Why is this happening?"
"Just give him some time Hermione. He'll come around."
Hermione looked at her in askance. "Your assurances are less than assuring."
The red head shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Hermione. I know he's being a bit thick, but he'll get over it. Just be patient."
"What about Ron, then?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron is being Ron. He feels badly giving you the cold shoulder, but he doesn't know how to be friends with people who are fighting. He's just trying to help Harry."
Hermione felt no better. It was all rather confusing, really. She sat back in her chair, pushing her breakfast plate away from her. She had written to Sirius, and he had been no help to her. All he had told her was how wonderful James was and what a great greasy prat Snape had been. She already knew that side of the story. She had had a morbid sort of hope that perhaps death would have given James's best mate a different perspective on their old arch enemy. She supposed she should have known better. Sirius had suggested that she simply curse Snape away and be done with him. Then there was Snape himself. It seemed that he, like Harry blamed her for the whole situation, despite the fact that he had already known. It was as though her act of listening to the Tree's admissions had created the tangled web she was walking through in the first place. Harry now hated her for trying to do the right thing, and Ron, not knowing what to do, stood by his side. Ron didn't hate her, she knew, but he wouldn't support her and try to make Harry see reason either. To top it all off, Malfoy had vowed to exact revenge upon her during their latest encounter.
Frustrated, she grabbed her sack and stalked away from the table, not sure of where she was going. She had a later start that day, and was faced now with a two hour free period. She usually spent the time doing her homework or a bit of random personal research, but all of her assignments had long since been done, and the prospect of pouring over books did not really appeal to her today. She knew that, right now, trying to find an interesting topic to work on would only leave her mind clear to think of the situation she had inadvertently worked herself into, and right now she didn't feel as though she could deal with such a thing.
Aimlessly, she wandered the corridors under the pretext of performing her prefect duties. She was lost in thought when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around, suddenly on guard. Her hand hovered over her wand which she kept hidden within the folds of her robe. As she turned face to face with her would-be attacker, she smiled. "Ron. What are you doing down here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he said quietly. "I saw you wander off after breakfast, and you didn't head for the library or the common room." He blushed embarrassedly. "Is everything all right?"
She wanted to tell him everything she had been mulling over in her head. For a brief instant, she considered how wonderful it would feel to share her feelings with someone else. She didn't know that she should, however. She didn't know what he would say, how he would think, how he would react. She lied through her teeth. "Everything's great, Ron." Her voice sounded cloying, even to her. She hoped he wouldn't notice and would accept her words at face value. "I was just looking for students who weren't in class when they were supposed to be."
Ron nodded, apparently deceived. "Were you looking for the same person I was?" he asked mischievously.
"I…well, I don't really know Ron. Who were you looking for?"
Ron looked around, gestured expansively, and rolled his eyes. "Where are we, Hermione?"
She didn't know. She had been so deeply lost in thought that she had simply unconsciously followed her feet where ever they led her to, not paying any particular attention to where she was going. She took a brief survey. "I guess we're down on the lower levels somewhere. It's rather damp and cool down here."
"Yeah. You guess." Ron looked as though he didn't believe a word she was saying, but was intent on humoring her anyway. "You know as well as I do that we're right by the Slytherin common room. You know that Malfoy has class this hour, and you want to catch him or one of his lackeys ditching."
Hermione took the easy out. "Gosh, Ron. You're amazing. How did you know that?"
The sarcasm went right past Ron, who coughed slightly. "Um, that's what I was doing," he said sheepishly.
"Ron, I don't see him here. I think we'd better be leaving." Hermione tugged at his arm slightly, hoping that their contact would urge him on faster. She didn't want to be down here right now, not with Malfoy burning with desire to settle the score between the three of them, a score which he believed was right now in the Gryffindor favor. It wasn't that she was afraid of him, for she harbored no trepidation whatsoever of facing him. She simply wasn't in the mood for a confrontation today, especially not here. She knew that if Snape were to get wind that she and Ron had been lurking about near the entrance to the Slytherin house some serious problems would defiantly be in the offing
"Come on, Hermione. Where's your sense of adventure?" Ron implored her.
"I left it up in the tower, right next to your common sense. We can't be seen down here! Snape could come around at any moment, and what do you think he would say? You know he would think that we were plotting a way to finish Malfoy off or something else equally terrible. We have to get out of here. Now." She didn't leave him any choice. She spun on her heel, and stalked off, robes billowing around her.
"Hermione," Ron panted struggling to keep up with her, "I don't understand why it was okay for you to be down here, but not for me."
"It wasn't Ron," she said sharply. "If each of us had been alone, that would have been one thing. The two of us together looks suspicious."
"Oh." He fell quiet and the only sound she could hear was the thumping of the soles of their shoes against the stone floor of the dungeons. Hermione could see the steps straight ahead, and breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that, by now, their proximity to the Slytherin common room was not of the nature that Snape could accuse them of plotting to attack Malfoy or any other Slytherin, but she still would feel better once they had reached the upper and, she always felt, more civilized levels of the castle.
She took the stairs nearly two at a time, and continued walking briskly until they had reached the foot of the marble staircase located in the castle's entryway. "Let's not do that again," she suggested.
"Spy on Malfoy, or walk like that?" Ron wheezed, clutching his side. "I though only running gave you side cramps," he said irritably.
"Ron, do you really want to serve another detention with Snape?"
"No. I don't need that slimy git peering over my shoulder, constantly reminding me that you do everything better than any other student in the castle." He was still breathing deeply.
"I don't do everything better than everyone else," Hermione said, wounded by his words but not knowing why. She had felt a rift between them ever since their shared week of detention with Snape, and had known all along that his attempts to pit the two students against each other were the reason why.
"Yes you do." Ron shrugged. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I know it wasn't your fault. It was just…I know you wouldn't know, but it's really hard when someone constantly tries to bring you down, and you have to admit to yourself that they have a point."
Hermione smiled ruefully. "I know what it's like to have people hate me, though." She brightened a bit. "Also, remember when we all started learning to fly." It pained her to remind him of that day so that he would be able to gloat, but she felt that something had to be said to make him feel better.
"Yeah." Ron laughed, his hard feelings apparently gone or at least buried for the moment. "You were so mad because you couldn't get the broom to do what you wanted it to. I was sure you had probably spent weeks studying how to fly, and then you couldn't even get a hold of the broom."
He was right, she had spent a considerable amount of time preparing for their first flying lesson, and it had come as nothing but a huge disappointment. "It wasn't that funny," she said, slightly wounded."
"Yeah it was," Ron snorted. "That and when you saw the bogart of McGonagall, and it told you that you had gotten all failing marks for the semester."
"Ha ha," Hermione said, growing more annoyed by the moment. She wished that she hadn't tried to brighten his day.
Ron slapped her on the back and she looked at him reproachfully. "Sorry," he murmured, blushing. "It was just sort of fun thinking about all of those times. You have to admit, Hermione, you really do seem perfect."
"I do not," she argued. "I just try to do the best I can at everything. I can't help it if other people don't."
Ron shook his head, and changed the subject. "Say, how was your chat with Harry last night."
"Terrible," she said, this time not bothering to lie. The walked towards the double doors which led to the outside grounds. Hermione checked her watch. They had forty-five minutes before History of Magic, growing more annoyed by the moment. She wished that she hadn't tried to brighten his day.
"Oh," Ron replied. "He didn't say anything about it to me, so I sort of assumed that nothing had changed."
"If anything, things have gotten worse," Hermione said morbidly. "I just don't know what to say to him. Everything I tried to get across he blocked off. He interrupted me every time I tried to make a point, and the things he said were so pitiful and sad that I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He wouldn't even let me do that, though. He just wanted me to leave."
"Oh."
"I don't know what I should do. I don't want to fight with him anymore, but everything I do seems to make him hate me more. I don't know how to work things out without us coming to loggerheads."
"Oh."
She turned and glared sharply at him. "Can't you say anything else?" she snapped.
He shrugged. "What is there to say?"
"What do you think I should do?" She stopped and sat down at the foot of an old oak Tree, throwing stones into the lake with a sour expression upon her face.
"I don't know, Hermione. You really hurt him."
"I did it for his own good."
Ron held up his hands as though she were charging and he was intent upon stopping her. "I know that. Maybe you didn't go about it the right way, though."
She glared harshly at him, "What do you mean I didn't go about it the right way? What other way was I supposed to go about it? What could I have done differently than I did?"
"You could have told him." Ron lowered his face, staring at the ground and picking apart a leaf, not daring to meet her eyes.
She exploded. "How many times do I have to explain why I did what I did? Isn't it obvious to anyone except me that no one wanted Harry to know that he was related to Snape? Why does everyone hate me for happening to be the one to discover that stupid Tree and listen to it? I didn't want to know that Snape is Harry's uncle anymore than Harry did, and I certainly didn't want to keep it a secret from him because I wanted to hold it over his head or something. If Snape were my uncle, I wouldn't want to know!" She could feel tears forming in her eyes, and she angrily scrunched her eyelids together, trying not to let them escape. She would not cry. Damn it, she would not cry.
Ron was growing angry too, she could tell from his tone of voice when he next spoke. "Maybe you should have asked me what to do. I'm Harry's best mate, you know. If I wasn't good enough for you, you could have at least asked Dumbledore. I'm sure he's high and mighty enough for you to associate with, even with your superior brainpower. Of course, you're too good to do that. You had to sort it out for yourself, and you had to figure out what was best for you to do all on your own, so you could show everyone else that you were better and smarter than them. You probably didn't want to tell Harry because, if it slipped out, years later, you wanted everyone to say how wonderful you were for holding that secret inside all of that time
Hermione stood up, and Ron did them same so they were standing toe to toe. "What are you talking about? I didn't tell you because I knew that if I did you would run off and tell Harry! I didn't want Dumbledore or Snape to know that I knew! It had nothing to do with me wanting to be a martyr of some sort. Why is it that everyone has to be so ridiculous all of the time? I care about Harry! If I didn't care, I would have run to him straight away and told him everything I knew. Instead, I did what I could to try and make the best of a bad situation. Unfortunately, it blew up in my face." She looked as though she were going to strike him, but she simply stood still staring him down, waiting for him to look away or break.
Ron stared back, his eyes filled with rage. His face was red and his hands trembling. "Not used to that are you? Having things go wrong is something new for you, I suppose?"
"Oh Ron, shut up," Hermione spat, having reached the end of her patience. "Why can't you stop listening for what you want to hear for just a moment and listen to what I'm actually saying? I care about Harry. I never wanted to hurt him. I thought that I did what was best." Again she felt the tears welling. She had already lost Harry as a friend forever it seemed, she didn't want to lose Ron as well. All the same, she couldn't let him stand there lying about her intent straight to her face.
Ron stopped shaking. He moved as though he were going to walk away, but suddenly appeared to be rooted to the spot. After a moment, the color drained slightly from his face. At some point, he had drawn his wand but now it hung limply next to his leg. It had been lowered slowly, but it was lowered. He breathed in deeply, and Hermione could feel herself settling as well. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Hermione felt completely drained, both physically and emotionally. Still, somehow, she felt a bit better. It was as though everything had been bottled up inside of her and was killing her from the inside out. Now it was all exposed to the open air. Perhaps this latest row had actually done her a bit of good, she reflected, so long as it had not irreparably destroyed her relationship with Ron.
At last Ron broke the silence. "You're right, Hermione. Forget I said it."
Still, the pique inside of her had not completely cooled. This time, though, her words were heavy and laden with sadness instead of anger. "I'll never forget you said it." She paused a moment, and his face distorted in disgust. Ron looked as though he were going to give up and walk away. "Wait." Hermione said, stopping him in mid-turn. "You're right. I'm sorry too."
Ron turned back to her, holding out his wand hand. "Friends?" he said tentatively, as though he were unsure of what her answer might be.
She smiled brightly. "Friends. Always." She firmly grasped his hand with her own, shook it slightly, and pulled him to her in a tight embrace. Quickly, she pulled back, noticing Ron had awkwardly returned the gesture. His face was red.
He coughed slightly. "Look at the time. I guess we should be heading in. I don't want to be late for Professor Binns's class." He looked at her with what she could only describe as shyness and headed back towards the castle.
"What's the matter with you?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said, still walking without looking directly at her.
"Why won't you look at me?"
"Sun's in my eyes when I look that way."
She knew that was a lie, as the sun was behind his head when she turned to face him, but she let it slide. They walked through the double doors of the castle together, still not talking, and ran straight into Professor Snape. "Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger. What were you doing outside just now?"
"Walking, sir," Ron replied. Hermione could hear the bitterness in his voice as he spoke to the Potions Master.
"How interesting," Snape said deprecatingly. "It looked to me as though you were embracing. I suppose that my eyes must be deceiving me, as you say Mr. Malfoy's were when Mr. Potter attacked him."
Hermione stepped forward. "We had a row, Sir. We were just making up."
"Oh," Snape said. "How lovely for you. Ten points from Gryffindor."
"What?" Ron said, eyes blazing fury. "I suppose they take away points down in Slytherin for making up after fighting?"
"Your tendency towards insubordination knows no bounds, does it Mr. Weasley? Though the practices of my house are none of your business, I can assure you that we do not remove points from our hourglass when students simply make up after having it out with one another. It is, however, my duty to take away points for a public display of affection." He smiled malevolently. "A further ten points for your use of sarcasm." Snape glided away towards his dungeon.
"How can he take away points for using sarcasm? Ron asked sourly. "If he tried to speak sincerely, he wouldn't even be able to."
"Never mind," said Hermione, "Let's go." She started walking again, and was halted in her tracks by a noxious voice.
"Going somewhere, Weasel King, Granger?"
"Malfoy, mind your own business," Hermione snapped.
"I couldn't help but overhear," he smirked. "So, it's happened at last."
"What's happened at last, Malfoy," Ron snarled, Hermione could see his hand moving towards his wand and stiffened with alarm.
"The King has found his Queen." He turned towards the staircase onto which students were beginning to pour following their morning classes and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Attention everyone!" Malfoy shouted, trying to be heard over the din. "May I present to you The Weasel King and his Mudblood Queen!" He turned and pointed to Ron and Hermione, who both blushed beet red.
"Shut up, ferret boy," Hermione hissed.
"What's the matter, Weasley?" Malfoy crooned. "Too scared to use your big bad wand when people are watching?"
"Or perhaps," said a sharp female voice, "He has too much sense to illegally perform magic on another student while passing through the hallway."
"Uh, Professor McGonagall." Malfoy looked as though he were going to choke, but quickly righted himself. "I was just telling everyone that Weasley and Gran…I mean Ron and Hermione," he looked as though he were going to be sick simply from speaking their given names, "had become a couple."
"Really," said McGonagall, looking not at all impressed. "Come along Mr. Malfoy, you have a punishment to receive." She turned to a group of onlooker. "Move along now, there's nothing to see here."
She headed off down the hallway, a furious Malfoy in tow. Once they were out of earshot, Ron began to laugh. "Did you see his face, Hermione? I wish Harry could have been here to see that. It was brilliant!" He wiped tears away from his eyes.
Hermione even had to smile, though already she was formulating a plan to elicit something akin to damage control. She could only imagine how fast Malfoy's words about her and Ron would be spreading through the school.
Suddenly, they were joined by another figure. "Harry!" Ron's cheer spread visibly across his face. "Did you see that mate?"
"Which part?" Harry asked, his voice wavering between gloom and good spirits. "The part where you and Hermione were being punished by Snape or the part where McGonagall finally took care of Malfoy."
"Uh, the last part," said Ron, his face growing redder. "Harry, I don't know what you overheard when you saw us getting punished by Snape, but what he saw isn't what he thought he saw. I mean it was. Well, that is to say, we were hugging, but it wasn't anything…"
"It wasn't a public display of affection," said Hermione. "It was a public display of reconciliation."
"Oh," said Harry. He looked as though he would have rather pretended Hermione wasn't there. Taking her cue, she grew quiet and listened to the two of them discuss possible outcomes of Malfoy's punishment from McGonagall. As they talked, she could feel the sadness welling up within her once again. Something was going to have to give.
* * *
"Thanks a lot, Granger," Malfoy said stopping beside her table as the rest of the students filed in for the afternoon's Potions lesson.
"I don't know why you're angry with me, Malfoy," Hermione said, not even affording him a glance as she unpacked her bag, "I didn't put a spell on you and force you to shout out those lies about Ron and me in the entryway this morning. If you are wanting to thank someone, you needn't look any further than yourself." She heard him mutter a profanity under his breath and move on, taking his seat a row forward and to the left of her own. Only then did she look up and read the day's project from the board. Vertiserum. Instantly, alarm klaxons began sounding in her head. Snape requesting them to concoct a truth serum could only lead to trouble.
Apparently, many other students had similar thoughts, though their unease was most likely caused by the complicated nature of the potion rather than the likely uses of it. Aside from the polyjuice potion Hermione had brewed during her second year to turn Ron, Harry, and herself into members of the Slytherin house in an attempt to gain information about the Chamber of Secrets from Draco Malfoy, this would be the most difficult potion she had ever attempted.
She read over the instructions three times, after painstakingly going through the list of ingredients. Voicing Hermione's silent doubts aloud, Parvati spoke, "Please, Sir, this potion takes six hours to brew, and must be constantly watched and stirred during that time. This class only lasts for two hours." Murmurs of assent rippled through the classroom, along with muted pronouncements of shock from those who had not bothered to read all of the instructions before beginning.
"How very nice to see that at least a few of my students can read," Snape said neutrally. "Miss Patil, you will be pleased to know that I have arranged with the headmaster for my final potions class of the day, which would, incase you were unaware be this class, to stay an extra length of time in order to assist me in the creation of a large quantity of Vertiserum."
"But, Sir," Harry spoke out, "some of us have other things to do after class. I have quidditch practice, and so does Ron!"
"Ah, yes," Snape looked unmoved as he spoke, "A pity to have to miss that, seeing as the Gryffindor team needs all the help it can muster." He turned away and sat pouring over spell books at his desk, signaling that the question and answer session had come to a close.
"This is so unfair," Hermione heard Draco Malfoy vociferating. 'Wait until my father hears about this." She tuned him out, holding little doubt that, were the offending professor any other than Snape the blond boy would have simply left the classroom straight away to inform his father of the assumed indiscretion. Seeing as it was his head of house, however, he chose to bear the brunt of his punishment now and retaliate for it later.
She worked diligently over her assignment, never wavering in her concentration. Though she did not relish spending any more time than was necessary in Snape's dungeons, she couldn't help but be grateful for the diversion her exacting task had provided her with. There was no time for thought, as she stirred and fussed over her cauldron timing and counting in an endeavor to create a perfectly colorless and tasteless substance from a variety of ingredients that each had its own unique hue and flavor.
At last the small timer on her table went off and she turned the fire beneath her cauldron off and swiftly poured the contents into a nearby basin, not wanting the mixture exposed to intense heat for even a moment longer than was prescribed. From this, Hermione filled several small vials with truth serum, and stepped forward to present them to the potions master. He bid her to return to her seat.
A few minutes later, everyone in the room had completed the brewing of the potion. The students fidgeted in their seats, anxious to escape their prison and return to the comfort of their common rooms, the school's dinner hour having already since passed. "I am told," Snape glowered, "that a late meal will be prepared in the great hall for those who would like to partake." Several students carefully pushed their chairs back, trying not to destroy their hard labor in their haste to exit. Hermione felt certain that she could hear Ron's stomach growling at him, as she felt her own tighten with pangs of hunger. "Stay where you are," Snape admonished, stifling the class with a nasty glare. "Before you may take your leave, each of you must sample your potion. Line up single file in front of my desk."
Ron clamored to be near the front of the line, but Hermione held him back, hissing, "We need to be at the end, Ron. He might let people leave after they test their potions. I don't know about you, but I would rather not spill my heart before the entire class."
Ron looked dubious, but he was moved by, to Hermione's astonishment, Harry, who was actually agreeing with her. "Hermione's right, Ron. I'm going to the back of the line." Ron shrugged and followed, though by this point the rest of the class had lined up and there wasn't really an alternative course of action.
"Glad I decided to move to the back of the line," Ron announced a few moments later. "Wouldn't want to be one of those poor blokes up front." Hermione rolled her eyes, and her heart leapt as she saw Harry do the same, and actually spare a brief grin for her. The feeling of joy quickly left her, however, as she cast a look about the classroom.
"Ron, Harry, I hate to inform you, but we didn't quite manage to be the last in line." She nodded to the left of their usual seats. Draco Malfoy looked up and waved with a sinister smile upon meeting her eye.
"Bloody hell," Ron admonished, stomping his foot for emphasis. "I was last! Last! I didn't even want you or Harry to have to hear my answers. I'd rather the whole rest of the class hear everything I ever had to say than let that prat be the one to listen in on Snape questioning me."
"Who cares about that," said Harry "What if something about the Order comes out?"
"I'm sure that even Snape has brains enough to not ask questions that would lead to the discovery of the Order," Hermione said. Harry scowled at her, and any renewed sense of warmth she had felt towards him quickly vanished.
The line rapidly grew shorter until just the three of them and Malfoy were left in the room with Snape. "Mr. Weasley," said Snape. "Please, step forward and bring your vial with you." Ron glowered and did as he was told, muttering that it was impolite to cut in line, and that Harry and Hermione had clearly been stationed in front of him.
Snape ignored Ron's chattering, and took the vial from him, holding it up to the light to examine it. "Your Vertiserum appears to be somewhat opaque, Mr. Weasley." He held the bottle to Ron, who visibly gulped, and swallowed some down quickly.
Snape began his interrogation. "What does it taste like?"
"Nothing," said Ron, his pupils dilating slightly, and his skin growing pale and sweaty. He looked as though some outside agent had seized him, though his trance was not nearly so lucid as that normally wrought by truth serum. He seemed as though he were in mild physical distress.
"What is your name?"
"Ronald Weasley."
"How many people are in your immediate family?"
"Nine, including myself."
"What are three ways to best describe your family?"
"Red hair, loving, poor."
Hermione thought the interview might be stopped at that point, as it was obvious that Ron's Vertiserum had managed to work despite the profuse sweating it generated. Though the three adjectives he had chosen did accurately describe his family, she knew that he would have never uttered the last in the presence of either Malfoy or Snape without being under the influence of truth serum. He had far too much pride to so belittle himself, no matter how true his words might be. Snape, however, continued.
"What position do you play on the Gryffindor quidditch team?"
"Keeper."
"Do you think you make a fair keeper?"
"When I can control my nerves."
Malfoy snickered in the corner, and Snape stopped interviewing Ron for a moment. "Please, Draco, reserve your humor for another time." The Professor turned back to Ron. 'What were you and Miss Granger fighting about this afternoon?"
"Harry Potter."
"And did you reconcile your differences?"
"Yes."
"Did you and Miss Granger embrace by the lake shore?"
"Yes."
Snape came as close to smiling with glee as he ever had. "Do you have affectionate feelings for Miss Granger?'
Before Ron could answer, Hermione stepped forward, knocking him from the stool and shaking him out of his trance as she did so. "That's enough, Professor," she objected. "I think it is quite plain that Ron's potion works adequately." She was glad to have spared Ron the humiliation of professing or denying his feeling for her with Draco Malfoy as witness and, in her heart, she wasn't sure that she could bear his answer, one way or another.
"I believe that the quality of Mr. Weasley's work is for me alone to decide, Miss Granger. However, rather than waste the potion to being the interview anew, I will have to use what little evidence of success I have been allowed to gather.
Ron seemed unperturbed by this declaration as Snape shooed him from the room. He mouthed a thank you at Hermione, who nodded in acknowledgement. "Draco, please step forward."
"Sir, I was last in line," Draco protested, sulking and refusing to move.
"Step forward, Draco," Snape repeated as though he had not spoken earlier. Draco did not move. "Step forwards and ingest you Vertiserum or receive a grade of zero for the assignment, which constitutes thirty percent of your grade." Snape spoke in the same neutral tone he always used, making it plain that he cared little for Draco's protest, and would not object to giving him a failing mark were he to ignore the conditions Snape had set forth.
Sneering, Draco stepped forward. "If I hear anything about what I say in here, I'll know who was going about spreading rumors,' he glared at Harry and Hermione. Harry clenched his fists slightly, but Hermione sighed in relief. She was glad Malfoy wouldn't be listening to her unwilling confessions.
Snape asked Draco nothing more than his name, what house he was in, and what mark he had received on his last Divination examination. Apparently Draco was not quite so bright at fortune telling as he was in other areas of study, and Hermione was certain that his potion had worked, for he could have never otherwise professed to failure in the presence of two of his three most hated peers.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said, looking directly into the boy's green eyes. "Hand me your vial." He held it up to the light. "Surprisingly, you have proven yourself somewhat adept at this foray into potion brewing. You potion is colorless. Let us see, however, if it works. Then we shall see if you had any help."
"I didn't," Harry snapped.
"We shall see," said Snape. "Drink up now." Harry poured the liquid down his throat and then took a seat on the stool beside Snape's desk. The professor wasted no time in beginning his interrogation, asking Harry any number of mindless questions before starting to tear him apart. "Did you know about the blood shared between you and I before the night you spied on Miss Granger and me in my office?"
"No."
"How did that knowledge make you feel?"
"Angry."
"Who were you angry with?'
"You. And Hermione."
"How do you feel now?"
"Angry."
"What would you think if I told you I felt much the same way when I discovered that James and I were brothers?"
"I wouldn't believe you."
"Why?"
"Because you should be happy to be related to a great man like my father."
"Would you believe me if I told you your father was not a great man?"
"No."
"Why do you think I hate your father?'
"You're jealous of him."
"Why would I be jealous of him?'
"Because he was better than you in every way."
"Why are you angry with Miss Granger?"
"She didn't tell me that you were my Uncle."
"Are you still angry with her?"
"Yes."
Hermione hoped that Snape would ask Harry if there was any possibility that the two of them would reconcile their differences, but the professor was too clever to give her such hopeful information. He waved his wand over Harry, restoring him to his original state and sent him away from the room, leaving him and Hermione alone.
"How interesting," Snape said, nodding towards the closing door. "To think that one afternoon spent under a Tree could do so much damage."
"That wasn't a normal Tree, and you know it," Hermione spat, handing him her potion, which he didn't even bother to examine for clarity.
"Swallow," he said simply.
"Are you even going to look at it?" she asked, perturbed that all of his evidence of her performance was to come from the impending interview. She saw it, along with the fact that Snape had purposefully forced her to remain until the last, as nothing but a bad omen, which could only serve to make the interrogation longer and more personal.
"Need I?" She ignored the question, and swallowed the liquid down, sitting upon the stool. She felt herself growing light headed, and she seemed in state between that of slumber and waking. Through her haze she could hear Snape's silky voice.
"What is your name?"
"Hermione Granger." Though she would have answered this question anyway, she felt a sense of doom sink about her. She had been compelled to speak by some force deep within her. She wouldn't have been able to stop herself had she tried. To her, it felt rather like being under the Imperious curse, as Professor Moody had demonstrated during their fourth year Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. She though perhaps to fight it, but the effects made her so sleepy she found even this faint desire rapidly waning away.
"Why did you speak to that infernal Tree?"
"I was curious about wizarding genealogy." Suddenly, it seemed so easy to speak. It was as if some other force were shaping her mouth for her even. Her thinking had become exact, and the terms with which she spoke concise and direct. She felt as though she were not even speaking, but knew that the sentiments and truths she shared with the interrogator were her own.
'Why didn't you just ask a member of the Order? I'm sure that there must have been someone around who would have been able to answer any of your questions."
"I wanted to gather information from a reliable first hand source. When people tell stories, they often get them confused." She tried to stop herself from speaking, but she could not. She wanted nothing more than to tell Snape, who was leering at her from beneath his greasy curtain of hair, to mind his own business, but it seemed she could do nothing but answer the questions as they were presented to her.
"How did you feel when you found out that Harry Potter was my nephew?"
"Sick." Hermione would have blushed, but she seemed unable to. The word she had spoken sounded spiteful to her, and she was sure that, haven been given the opportunity, she would have chosen a more eloquent and less malevolent way of phrasing the answer.
"Indeed." Snape's upper lip curled slightly, as though he smelled something foul upon the air. "Why did you keep the information to yourself?"
"I didn't want Harry to find out. I didn't want anyone to know that I knew."
"Why not?"
"Because I knew that you would harass me, as you did and continue to do." Again, she felt a wash of shame. Though she harbored nothing more than dislike for the Potions Master, she knew there had to be a more diplomatic way of engaging in this conversation. Thinking how he had, however, brought it upon himself, her doubts quieted somewhat.
"Did you know that Harry Potter was in the room with us the night he overheard our conversation?"
"No."
Snape seemed to consider this a moment, frowning slightly. It was clear to Hermione that he had wanted her to answer, "yes" so that he could be further enraged by her actions. At last, the professor continued, "Did the Tree tell you anything else that night?"
"Nothing of any importance."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
Snape looked at her with utmost contempt, seeming to stare nearly through her. "You asked after no one except Harry Potter?"
"No."
"The Tree did not continue its tales regarding the Potters?" He practically spat the last word.
"No." She was growing frustrated, though the voice she spoke through was as languid as when the interview began. Why did he keep asking her the same question simply rephrased time and again? She would have asked him, but here he was the interrogator and she could do nothing save respond.
"Very well then," he said, perhaps sensing that he was getting nowhere. He waved his wand before her face, and she felt her faculties returning. Quickly, she gathered her books, anxious to take her leave of the classroom and head for Gryffindor tower where she could mull over what had been said.
* * *
"What did he ask you, Hermione?' Ron questioned her as she sat down for dinner in the great Hall, having been lured away from her intended rest by the delicious aromas wafting down the dungeon staircase.
"He kept asking me about the Tree that I spoke to this summer. He wanted to know if I listened to stories about anyone other than Harry. He seemed quite intent on finding out that I had."
"Did you?"
"No," she answered solemnly. "That Tree gave me the creeps. After it told me more than I ever wanted to know about Harry's family, all I wanted to do was leave it and never look at it again."
She continued eating in silence, listening to Ron and Harry chatter on about the unfairness of missing quidditch practice so that they could lighten Snape's workload by brewing a huge batch of potion for him. "He probably couldn't even use half of it," Harry glowered. "Imagine, taking a truth serum prepared by Goyle."
"His was black," Ron confirmed, "and when he swallowed it, something that looked like tar came pouring out of his nose. I don't think he could even speak, much less tell nothing but the truth."
Hermione cut in. "Why does he need all of that Vertiserum, though? Don't you think it's a bit odd that he would have a use for that much of it?"
"He probably doesn't," Ron said, his cheeks burning with the memory of his earlier interview with Snape. "He probably just wanted to make us spill our guts to the whole class."
"He has to need it for something," Hermione said, giving Ron a reproving look. "He wouldn't waste all of those ingredients on his own pleasure."
"It's probably for something he's doing for the Order," said Harry. "Some secret spy thing." He turned back to his food, moving it about his plate but not really eating anything.
Hermione pushed away from the table, slinging her pack over her shoulder. Ron and Harry followed suit, heading for Gryffindor tower. Hermione felt the best thing she could do right now was sleep on all of her questions until morning.
* * *
Some days later, Hermione was chatting with Ginny over breakfast when a letter dropped into Ginny's orange juice. "Stupid owl," she murmured as she stroked the Weasley family post owl, Errol on top of his head. "His aim is terrible." The red head shook as much orange juice as she could from the outside of the envelope, and carefully tore the seal open. "Oh," she exclaimed, her face brightening, "It's a letter from Mum."
"What does it say," Hermione asked, eager to hear any news from the Order.
"She's asking us all, that means you and Harry too, to come to Grimwald Place for Christmas this year rather than remaining at Hogwarts." Ginny turned to her with a slight frown upon her face. "Did you already have plans for the holidays?"
"No," Hermione answered, smiling. "I'm glad to be invited. My parents are going to a dental convention at the beginning of December, and they wanted to make an extended holiday of it. The only thing stopping them was their guilt for leaving me at school."
"Hermione," Ginny said turning deadly serious. "What about Harry?"
"What about him," Hermione asked.
"Well, I know you too have been fighting all this year. I don't want Christmas to be ruined for both of you because you're forced to be together when you don't want to be."
"I think perhaps spending the holidays together would do the two of us some good. Maybe things can go back to normal. I could show Harry the Tree and prove to him once and for all the sort of power it possesses." Hermione opened her mouth to continue, but Ginny cut her off.
"I don't think that that is a very good idea, Hermione."
"Why not?"
"I think we should just stay away from that thing. Who knows what kind of damage it can do. Look at how much everything has changed just because you spent a few hours talking with it over the summer."
Hermione said nothing, just stared broodingly into her glass of pumpkin juice as though expecting it to converse with her.
Ginny sighed, pushing away from the table. "Anyway, you're more than welcome to spend the holiday with us. Think about what I said though, Hermione. You can't get back what you lost, you can only lose what you have."
* * *
"Harry! What are you doing here?" Hermione exclaimed as she dropped her load of study materials on one of the back tables in the library. She always chose to sit as far away from the door, and any other possible sources of distraction, as possible.
"I was just doing a bit of research," he said, carefully sliding the book he had been reading beneath the table so as to conceal it from her view.
"Oh," she said, her eyes brightening. Though they had been fighting throughout the year, Harry's sudden maneuver into her part of the world piqued her interest. She was filled with a million questions. "What are you looking for?"
"Nothing," he murmured, pushing away from the table. "I'd best be leaving. Quidditch practice in an hour, you know."
"Harry, wait. I could help you, you know."
"No thanks," he said, his voice suddenly growing colder as he turned away from her, placing the book amongst many others on a cart at the end of one of the shelving units. Hermione waited until she was certain he had left the library, and crept over to the cart, her curiosity quelling all desire she had for completing her homework. She lifted the book away from the others and returned to her table, carefully reading the title page. Purity of Blood looked more like something Draco Malfoy would be interested than reading material for Harry Potter, with its introduction as to how the blood of wizard kind should remain pure and its remarks about purebloods who had gained power, and those who had disgraced the wizarding world through their relationships with muggle-borns. Hermione flipped through the pages, quickly finding that the book was more an anthology of genealogy than it was a means of exalting blood merely by virtue of its purity. She decided the introduction was somewhat ambiguous and completely biased.
Skimming through, she came upon the Potter family. As she expected, there was no mention of Professor Snape. An "x" at the end of the entry denoted that the pure line ended with James, for Harry's mother, Lily, had been muggle born. She continued to flip through the yellowing pages, coming upon the entry for the Snape family, whom Severus was listed as a legitimately carrying the blood of, and as the sole remaining member of. There was an asterisk at the end of this entry. She turned back to the page that decoded the various symbols used throughout the book, and was shocked to find that this signified his serious involvement with a pure, female member of the wizarding world. Intrigued, she turned to the title page again. The copyright date was 1983. It had not been that long ago.
She returned to the entry, hoping that there was more information regarding who the mysterious pureblood woman was, but nothing presented itself. Quickly, she replaced the book in the reshelving cart and stowed her study materials away, all thoughts of schoolwork forgotten. She had another letter to write.