Author's note: Firstly, the fingernails being torn off was a torture method used on Chanah Senesh, a Hungarian Jewish spy working for British forces during world war two. She was caught in Hungary, imprisoned and regularly tortured for information regarding the movement of the British. She was put to death by firing squad near the end of the war.
Secondly, if anyone was wondering, the devil's Inkpots are real…visited them myself.
Thirdly, I've also been informed that there are those who want to be informed by email when I post a new chapter. 'sall good with me, but I don't have the extra feature thingies with fanfiction.net. So if you want an email when I update, send me one at jane_wilde@hotmail.com with subject line 'Puppetry of the Heinous' and I'll make sure you get an email ASAP after I update. Everyone will get an individual one, I won't disclose email addresses to anyone. My word as a Slytherin on that. Deadredsocks, you'll be first in line, considering you brought it to my attention.
Fourthly, I'm sorry it took so long, I had much to do and less time to do it in, but now I have two weeks off, with much work to do, but I'll make time for this. I'm a bit nervous about this chapter, I think it's very bad, but hell, I'd never post it if I don't do it now.
And, as usual, all reviews are welcome. I love hearing everything everyone has to say. I never get tired of it. Never! J
Everything, apart from minor additions here and there, belongs to she who must be deeply respected, JK Rowling. All thanks to her and my computer.
Chapter 9 – History Repeating
At some point, Hermione was not sure when, she had fallen asleep at Snape's bedside. It was by far not the most restful slumber, nor was it comfortable, and when she woke she had something of a hangover to compound the bad sleeping.
"Rise and shine, Hermo-ine!" Deb shook her lightly, even though it felt she'd smacked her across the face.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked groggily, attempting to sit up.
"I believe it is seven-thirty in the ante-meridian, my dear." Deb handed her a goblet of something that was steaming slightly. "Drink this; it'll wake you up a bit. The faster you drink, the better chance you have of avoiding the nasty headache that's on it's way."
Hermione took it cautiously and gulped it down. Her vision almost instantly sharpened and she felt wide awake. She looked to the bed in which the pale form of her teacher still slept, an IV tube extending from an exposed arm.
"How is he?" She asked.
"How does he look?" Deb asked back.
Hermione looked closer. His color seemed to have returned and there was nothing left of the horrendous injuries she'd seen yesterday.
"He looks…normal…except that he's sleeping."
"Exactly." Deb smiled, "I've checked all the usual things…blood pressure, temperature, white blood cell count, all that stuff. It's all normal. No broken bones, nails all firmly replaced on his fingers, all traces of the burning potion gone. I put in a drip last night 'cause I think he's probably very low on energy, which is fair enough. Madame Pomfrey wasn't too happy though. Anyway, all he needs now is good old fashioned rest. I think he'll wake some time this evening, and about time too, because we need to keep up with rehearsals. Want some breakfast?"
"Oh…yes, thank you."
Deb waved her wand and a fantastically large platter of scrambled eggs, orange juice, porridge toast, muffins, pancakes, maple syrup, jam and butter presented itself.
"I can't eat all that," Hermione contended.
"I don't expect you to," Deb retorted, "I just woke up too, you know. And it's not like anyone can stop the house elves when they're on a cooking rampage."
Hermione took a plate and buttered some toast, while Deb piled up six pancakes on her plate.
"Hungry, are you?" Hermione chuckled.
"Not particularly," Deb grinned back, "But if you're not going to eat it, I shall do my best to eat your share, see?" She pointed to the pancakes, "Three for me and three for you."
"But I wouldn't eat three," Hermione countered, "I'd be hard pressed to eat two."
"Alright, so three for me, two for you, and one for our sweet sleeping Severus…all of which I get to eat anyway."
"Is there any point arguing with you?" Hermione asked wearily.
"No," Deb said thoughtfully as she shoved a large piece of pancake into her mouth, "I don't think so."
They ate in silence for a little while, the third party completely unmoving - though somehow comforting – kept them company. When they set their plates down, Deb stood up to check the IV.
"Am I going to classes today?"
"Sadly, no," Deb said, not sounding at all upset, "I'm afraid you cannot return to class until Severus wakes."
"Why not?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her orange juice.
"Because I need to teach classes, so you have to stay here. Don't worry. The teachers know."
"What do you mean?" Hermione whined indignantly, "Can't Madame Pomfrey take care of him? She's the school nurse after all."
"That's exactly why you're staying here." Deb returned to her seat, "She can't be expected to sit by his bedside all day, check his IV, temperature, blood pressure, and all that. But most of all, you have to stay so that if he wakes you can call me back here immediately."
"But…I don't know how to do all those things. Blood pressure, and those things." Hermione was now worried. Deb was going to leave him in her care. What if she messed it up?
"Don't worry, Hermione," Deb cooed, "It's simple. If the IV looks like it's emptying, you use a simple refilling spell. Temperature is simple, you just use the thermometer. If it comes up with anything more than feverish, call me. Blood pressure is also simple because I've got this great new sphygmomanometer that does the measuring for you." Deb got up and removed a rectangular metal box. It opened to reveal a very normal looking blood pressure meter…which was apparently called a sphygmomanometer, only it had a digital screen. Deb removed the band with the tube and the pump and wrapped it around Hermione's arm. "See, you pump it up like this…and when the band it pumped up enough, the number will pop up. If it's anything over 140 over 90, again, call me. So you check all those things every two hours, and otherwise you can just sit here and do homework or reading or whatever tickles your fancy. Simple as that."
Hermione was very concerned… she didn't know what to say.
"What if his IV needle falls out?"
Deb laughed very heartily at that, and began to usher Hermione to the door.
"The needle isn't going anywhere, Hermione. Now go and get any books you want to read while you're down here, may I suggest the My Fair Lady script, and hurry back. I have classes to prepare."
Hermione ran up to the common room and popped through the portrait hole, where Harry and Ron barreled toward her.
"Hermione! Where were you!" Ron asked, sounding almost pathetically like his mother, "We were so worried when we couldn't find you in the common room last night."
"We thought you'd been hurt," Harry admonished calmly.
"I'm alright," she said bracingly, "I was just helping Professor Daniels tend to Professor Snape."
"You didn't!" Ron said in a whisper, "Do you know what happened to him?"
"Of course I know what happened to him," she walked towards the staircase to the girls' dormitories, "But I'm not telling you."
"Why not?" Harry complained.
"Because it's his place to tell you, not mine. If he wanted you to know, he'll tell you."
"But you know he won't tell us," Ron whined as she walked up the first few steps. Hermione rounded on them and snapped.
"Then I definitely won't tell you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and get my homework."
She stormed up the steps.
"Homework," Ron asked, "Why would she be doing homework now?"
Harry shrugged, "Maybe because she didn't do it last night."
"But she has to go to class now." Ron moaned.
"Or maybe she doesn't," Harry suggested.
"What do you mean? She can't miss any more classes… she'd have a nervous breakdown."
"Ron," Hermione shook her head as she came back down the stairs, books and scrolls piled in her arms, "For your information, I'm not going to classes today because I have to stay with Snape. Deb asked me to…or really she told me to, because she has to take classes."
They followed her toward the portrait hole again.
"But that's not fair," Ron said hotly, and looking uncannily like a child, "You don't even want to go to class. Why do I have to go?"
It was fascinating to Hermione that he'd failed to grow up somehow. She rolled her eyes at him and snapped.
"Well, if you're so determined to miss class, you don't have potions today. But, if you'd prefer, you can sit at Professor Snape's bedside and take his temperature every two hours."
"Is it that bad?" Harry asked somberly.
"It was that bad," Hermione nodded, "But now he just needs rest, and someone needs to make sure nothing goes wrong, which is why I'm going."
"We'll come and keep you company during lunch and potions, won't we, Ron?" Harry nudged the sulky redhead.
"No, Harry," Hermione stopped him, "No one's allowed in. Don't worry about me. Just go and practice Quidditch in the break. And Ron, why don't you concentrate on growing up!"
Hermione slipped out of the portrait hole, leaving a very indignant Ron and a very amused Harry.
Hermione sat with her unconscious teacher all day, except at lunchtime, when Deb came in for an hour so Hermione could go to the Great Hall to eat lunch. At first she'd felt very awkward as she sat at his bedside, alone. She could understand why she was the best choice to watch him, being the only one who knew what needed to be done and didn't have to teach lessons. But it still wasn't normal. Nor was it entirely appropriate. Her parents certainly wouldn't have approved.
Some part of her wanted to slap herself for even thinking that. Who cares what your parents think, girl? Don't you think this is slightly out of their depth?
She got a shock thinking that too. It sounded like he was in her head, becoming her bad conscience. Not a good sign, Hermione, not a good sign.
She also had the feeling he was watching her. Like through his eyelids his eyes were watching her, and he was waiting for the perfect moment to grab her wrist and scare her to death. Was that it? No, that was just an overactive imagination. What was more disconcerting was that he was just watching.
Nevertheless, she eventually got used to it. She got over the feeling that Severus might just spring out of his coma as soon as she delved deeply into her work, and got a considerable amount of homework done.
It was dinnertime before Hermione saw another conscious soul. Deb popped in to check on her patient and the nurse.
"Hermione!" Deb said in mock-shock, her hand dramatically laid on her chest, "You're both alive! You didn't kill him!"
Hermione gave her a dark look as she shut her copy of Most Potente Potions.
"I of course I didn't kill him," she murmured, "I never said I would."
Deb smiled warmly, "Just kidding, calm down. So I presume everything's under control here?"
"Everything's fine. He hasn't moved though."
"Neither would you if you were in his place." Deb straightened the bedclothes, "Oh, look how cute he is, sleeping in bed like a tiny bébé. He doesn't look half as nasty when he hasn't got his face in a nasty scowl."
Hermione looked at him. Deb was right, surprise, surprise. He was still pale and gaunt and framed by the long tresses of black around his face, but he no longer looked like…the bastard every student knew.
"He looks…sort of…normal," Hermione said awkwardly.
"I wouldn't go that far," Deb reasonably, "But he does look nicer…More pleasant. Anyway, I imagine you're a tad hungry, so you're going to come to the Great Hall with me for dinner." Deb pulled her out of her seat.
"What if he wakes?" Hermione waved in the bed's direction.
"I'm about to cast a sleeping spell on him, so by the time we get back and cast the waking spell, he'll actually wake. Somnio!" Deb pointed nonchalantly towards Snape, and began pushing Hermione out the door.
"Get any quality work done?" Deb asked, a benign grin on her face.
"Yes, actually," Hermione said amicably as they walked their way down to the Hall, "Quite a bit of reading and summarizing."
"Well then, the day wasn't such a waste after all. Just before we go back down after dinner, I'll bring you the list of homework you've got."
They reached the hall rather quickly, Hermione found Deb's pace was rather fast. She was slightly out of breath when they reached the door.
"Right," Deb looked to her, "You go in first, I'll go after. The last thing we need is for any loyal Slytherin to see you in contact with me. I took one hundred points from Malfoy today for talking to Crabbe while everyone was working."
"You didn't!" Hermione whispered, half in shock, half in admiring awe.
"I did," Deb confirmed pleasantly, "After all, when Severus wakes up, he'll give enough to Slytherin and take from Gryffindor enough to make up for it, I think. Now, go, and when I nod to you, that means come back outside, alrighty?"
"Okay," Hermione walked calmly into the Hall, and noticed there was a very subdued air around her. Conversations were fairly subdued, and Hermione had feeling that it had something to do with the Potions Master falling on the doorstep on the brink of death She also suddenly felt people were watching her, people in her year. No doubt her absence had not gone unnoticed…no one there to answer the questions, she thought cynically. She tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling and strolled over to the Gryffindor table and sat down beside Ginny.
"Hi, Ginny," Hermione greeted her cheerily.
Ginny eyed her suspiciously. "Hello…" She replied warily.
"What?" Hermione asked, "What are you looking at me like that for?"
"Nothing," Ginny replied, looking very much like there was something.
"Good, then I suppose you'll stop looking at me like that at some point?"
Ginny took a deep breath and turned to talk to Colin Creevey. Just as she did, Harry and Ron slid into the seats on her other sides.
"Hello, Ron, how was school?" she gloated.
"Fine," Ron murmured through his teeth.
"Don't mind him," Harry said offhandedly, "He's still smarting from this morning when you told him to grow up. We missed you."
"Why? Did you actually have to answer a question for yourself?" As soon as it came out of her mouth, she realized she was being a bit harsh. Harry looked quite taken aback, though not altogether upset.
"Wow, Hermione," he chuckled, "That time of the month, then, is it?"
Before Hermione had time to respond or realise that she probably deserved that, the plates and bowls filled with the usual dinner feast.
"So, what did you do during your free Potions double?" Hermione asked the boys.
"Went to the Quidditch pitch of course," Harry replied, chewing on a chicken wing.
"How's the new broomstick, Ron?" Hermione knew he'd respond to that, even if it meant abandoning his angry scowl. He'd been delighted by a belated birthday present last year, given on their last day of the school year. Harry, Hermione, Seamus, Neville, Remus, Sirius, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ginny had put in to give him a top-of-the-line keeper broomstick, a Mercury six. They also told him he wouldn't be getting a Christmas present…from any of them.
"Oh, it's fantastic…perfect for a keeper…like it knows exactly what to do before you even know yourself! It's fast, and quick, but strong too…different to Harry's Phantom, but just what a keeper needs…and the best present ever!"
Hermione smiled as Harry gave Ron a 'you're welcome' thump on the back. Harry's beloved Firebolt had suffered irreparable damage after an interesting approach to attacking Voldemort. In Harry's eyes, his beloved broomstick should have been awarded a medal.
"So, Hermione," Ron shuffled mashed potatoes onto his fork, "Are you at liberty to tell us whether Snape is going to be alright or not?"
"I think so," She shrugged, "He'll definitely be alright, the injuries have all healed.
Ron winced.
"Damn, I haven't done that essay." He clicked his fingers regretfully.
"Well, you have all night to do it," Hermione replied tartly, "I think he'll be in class again tomorrow."
"Ah," Harry nodded somberly, "Back to torture me for being me. Mum, Dad, give me the strength to not give in to temptation and tear his bloody nose of his face."
"Do you think he's really doing it just for the sake of doing it?" Hermione asked thoughtfully.
"No," Harry replied, "I think he enjoys it too."
"Do you think so?"
"To the very centre of my being," Harry said, squinting angrily, "I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me…he likes to watch me squirm under his gaze like a field mouse under the claws of a hawk!"
"Did you ever think that maybe he was doing it to…help you?"
The two looked at her blankly for a moment, then burst into hysterical laughter.
"…help us," Ron thumped the table, "oh, thanks Hermione, I haven't laughed so hard in ages!"
First and second courses disappeared quickly to make room for desserts, of which there seemed to be extra. Lots of extra… enough to feed the school twice over again. This was proved in the fact that, by the time even Crabbe and Goyle had stopped eating, there was still half as much left as there was to begin with.
And this seemed to be Dumbledore's cue to stand up.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he smiled his bright-eyed smile, "Your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher proposed an idea to me this morning, as a way of lifting school spirits in light of recent events. I'd like to remind all students before we begin that this is in the interest of natural and healthy amusement and entertainment, so make the most of it, because I most definitely cannot promise another situation in which I would agree to this. So, without further ado, I shall hand over to Professor Daniels."
Oh Gods, what's she cooking up this time… Hermione was afraid…very afraid.
Deb rose from her chair, then stood on it, then on the faculty table. She removed her trademark coat, and her elaborate tattoos were bared for all the school to see, which causes a great rumble of whispers across the tables. Deb took no notice as she threw her coat to the floor, picked up a bowl of jelly and a cream pie.
Oh in Merlin's name, she'd better not be doing what I think she is…
Deb walked to the middle of the table where Dumbledore sat, cleared her throat, bent down and…
SPLAT!
The cream pie hit Dumbledore directly in the face.
There was a definite, confused, bemused silence…then, somewhere, a grand and sparkling penny dropped, and grins jumped onto faces everywhere.
Deb looked at her tub of jelly, then to the eager faces of the students, waiting for her to sound the call. She cupped a wobbling mound of jelly in her hand and…
"FOOD FIGHT!!!!!"
The hall erupted into a culinary tempest. Custard, jelly, pies, tarts, ice cream, Bertie Botts, cauldron cakes, chocolate frogs, millions and squillions and chocolate sauce all rained down from every side. Everything from students to teachers to walls and floors was splattered with dessert. Screams and yelps of excited pleasure rang through the hall, and probably the whole school.
It wasn't until Ron himself poured chocolate sauce right on Hermione's head that she even registered what was going on. But Ron got a cream pie right in the kisser for that performance…and Harry too, for his reference to her time of the month. But he responded with his typical Seeker speed by pouring a jar of millions and squillions through her thick, impenetrable head of hair.
Just as she'd recovered from the shock, there was a great shout from the staff table. Deb jumped onto the Ravenclaw table.
"PLUVIO FLAGRA LACRETUM!" She shouted, and instantly the arched ceiling seemed to be raining down whipped cream from absolutely nowhere. Everyone from Hagrid down to the tiniest first year got drenched in whipped cream. In response to the heavenly assault, every student ladled up handfuls of the cream-rain and hurled them in Deb's direction. Hermione had a feeling Deb was entirely expecting that, as she ran down each table and jumped from one to another, giving every student an opportunity to plaster her with cream… which they did very eagerly. He white blotches cascaded down upon her, eventually coating her so thickly, there wasn't a speck of bare skin showing. She leapt onto Gryffindor table and sprinted down it, cream splattering everywhere. And, for a split-second, she nodded to Hermione. Had Hermione blinked, she would have missed it. But miss it she did not, so she obediently rose and slunk out of the hall while everyone was too hysterical to notice.
As she stood in the entrance hall dripping with assorted desserts, she distinctly heard Deb call out, "Let's get Dumbledore!" which was followed soon after by screams of delight and Deb running out, spattering the floor with ruined dessert. Hermione hated to think what Filch would do.
"Now how was that for a pick-me-up?" She asked through a cheeky grin.
"There are more discrete things you could have done." Hermione crossed her arms.
"But nothing more fun!" Deb winked, "Purgare!"
They were magically cleaned, not a speck of dessert to be seen, including on Filch's precious floor.
"Now, let us depart for the infirmary," Deb nodded her head up the stairs, "I believe our patient is waiting."
Indeed he was. In exactly the same place they'd left him, not a centimeter out of place.
"How can he not be moving?" Hermione asked. If he's just asleep, surely he would have moved."
"No, not necessarily. Depends what kind of sleeper he is, and he's a very heavy sleeper. He's also a great believer in, 'if something's worth doing, it's worth doing right,' so if he's going to stay still, he does it bloody well. Excitare!"
The cold black eyes flickered open, darting around, taking in his environment, his body as still as it had been when he was unconscious. It seemed he dare not move until he knew where he was.
"It's alright, Severus," Deb said quietly, "Hogwarts." Hermione was surprised by how quiet and calm Deb was. Only minutes before, she'd seen her ram a pie in Dumbledore's face. And now she was calmly sitting at the edge of Severus' bed with the same simple benevolence Dumbledore exuded. It was astounding.
Severus closed his eyes and sighed. Hermione couldn't decide if it was relief or disappointment or regret. Did he want to be back? Did he want to be dead? Did he want to be wherever the Death Eaters were, to prove to them that he'd survived?
"That was quite a set of injuries you came home with, Severus," Deb checked his drip momentarily, "You'd have had less from fighting a dragon bare-handed."
"Bodily injuries are inconsequential," He lifted himself to sit leaning against the headboard of the bed, "what you should worry about is if they got far enough into my head."
"Did they?" Deb asked mildly.
"They did not," he looked deep into her eyes, "But they were so close…"
He looked away and shook his head.
"…so close."
"You measure yourself by how far they managed to get." Deb said softly "Perhaps you should measure yourself by how far they didn't get, or how long you held on for. No one else alive today could have sustained those wounds and have lived to tell the tale."
"An ill-gotten ability," he said sorrowfully, "I do not deserve it."
"Yes you do," Hermione said quietly.
Severus snapped his head around to look at her, as if he'd only just realized she was there.
"What makes you think so?" it was not cruel or caustic, but full of doubt resentment, more of himself than of her. She took a deep breath and crossed her arms.
"I don't think it'll come as a great shock to you that before this year, I thought, like every other non-Slytherin student in the school, that you were a nasty bastard. I would've believed it this year too, had it not been for Deb's intervention. You're not nasty for no reason, I've learned that, and I'm sure you have a reason for treating Harry like a--" Hermione rethought her words, "The way that you do, even if you don't say it. You're not a bastard…at least not when you don't want to be. I don't know anything for sure, but I think you've got what you've got for a reason."
"Do you think I deserve to live after—"
"I'm not even going to let you finish that question," Deb cut him off, "You ask me that enough, don't start asking her…and no, my answer hasn't changed, and I'm sure her answer is the same as mine."
"Let her speak, Deborah." He narrowed his eyes at Deb.
"There's no need."
"Let her speak if she wants," he repeated.
"What for?"
"Let Her Speak."
Deb threw her arms up as she strode away from the bed, throwing her arms up in exasperation. Hermione furrowed her brow and tried to work out why he wanted to hear what she had to say. He never wanted to hear what she had to say. What on earth was going on? Oh, it was far too hard to know what was going on now."
"Well, Hermione," He turned to her again, his calculating eyes resting on hers, "do you think I deserve to live after everything I've done?"
"I certainly don't think you deserve to die! I think that, thanks to Deb, I have to consider you one of my…friends. There's no real word for it, but that's the closest. You are a friend, I think, and I don't want a friend of mine to die. Even one who called me a stupid impertinent little girl. I'm no longer a little girl, I'm never was impertinent and I'm most certainly never was stupid."
Deb applauded from the corner she'd inhabited and sat in the seat beside Hermione.
"I shall remember this. The Head Girl and Model Student calls the Ex-Death Eater her Friend. Ah, the world is a fine place. Now, Severus, I think you know what I want to know. I'd be much obliged if you told me."
"He's expecting the potion the night all students return from holidays. He plans to attack Hogwarts so he can kill Harry and watch me kill Albus."
"Ah, but I've already thought of a plan to counteract his plan. I cleared it with Dumbledore and I've already hired the services of a Diablé to get us what we need.
"You trusted a Diablé with this?"
"Excuse me," Hermione interrupted meekly, "What's a Diablé?"
"A very secretive creature," Deb explained, "that kidnaps children, primarily to eat them, but will kidnap anyone for money. They also like bright and shiny things like jewels, so they buy jewels and eat children. And Severus, to answer your question, I think I'd trust a Diablé before I trusted any human with this. I've promised him a hefty payout if he does as I ask. He's crafty, clever, silent and less likely to be traced back to us."
"What if he talks?"
"He has no tongue. He won't talk, but he'll get us what we need."
"And what do we need that a Diablé could possibly get for us?" Severus was ever the skeptic.
"Children. More specifically the children of Death Eaters, More specifically, the young and impressionable ones who will be susceptible to mind games."
"You're going to use their children?" He asked disgustedly.
"You've got a better plan?" Deb crossed her arms defensively.
"No, but that…that's amoral!"
Deb burst into laughter, slapping her thigh hysterically. When her fit died down she sighed and wiped her eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I could've sworn you just said, 'that's amoral.'"
"I did," Severus looked at her darkly.
Deb burst into laughter again, nearly falling off her seat.
"Severus, we're fighting the Death Eaters. They kill families, actually, come to think of it, they killed mine…and Harry's…and they damn near killed Neville's. Isn't it only fair that I should turn their children against them? Especially Draco. I've already started work on him."
"What have you done?" Severus snarled at her.
"I kept him back after class, asked him how he was feeling, whether he was happy, that's all."
"What exactly is that supposed to achieve?"
"Tut, tut," Deb looked at him condescendingly, "you cannot figure it out yourself? I'm planting the seed. I've got all of the coming months to work on him and make him fand of me.
This time it was Hermione's turn to laugh hysterically. She decided very consciously, to give Deb some of her own medicine.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I could've sworn you just said you'd make Draco Malfoy fond of you."
"I did," Deb smiled at her.
Hermione burbled with laughter again, doubling up to increase effect.
"Deb, that boy isn't fond of his mother…come to think of it, I'd wager she isn't fond of him either."
"And that, Hermione, is exactly the point. I'd wager none of the Death Eaters give a shrivel fig about what happens to their kids. That's exactly what we'll use against them. Their loyalty to Voldemort will end up being their undoing."
"How do you propose we go about that?" Hermione asked, probably about as doubtful as Severus.
Deb rose to her feet and played out the whole event.
"When they come to attack us here, bounding into the great hall, wands drawn and pointed at the enemy, they'll find their children standing between them and their targets. If the fates are at all with us, Voldemort will recognize what we've done and hold off. Then, these kids will all stand there, basically human shields, and I'll say, if you kill your children, you can have Dumbledore and Harry on a silver platter, no questions asked. If not you'll have to fight. They'll choose Voldemort and their children will choose us."
"Deb," Hermione said warningly, "Severus is right. That's wrong."
"What makes you say that?"
"You can't use their children like that. That's not right." Hermione remained firm.
"I'm not going to make any child stand up there if they don't want to, but chances are, they'll want to. These kids will be in such a state of doubt about whether their parents love them or not that they'll want to put their parents on the spot, see what happens."
"But you'll be the one who makes them doubt." Hermione began.
"You're the one who'll have put them in that mindset, wanting to know." Severus finished.
"And what's wrong with that?" Deb asked.
Neither had an answer. Was there anything wrong with making them doubt? Didn't every child come to a point where they questioned their parents' love for them? So this doubt wasn't naturally induced, did that make it bad?
"Ah ha," Deb nodded victoriously, "Game, Set, Match, Daniels. My way, Lady and Gentleman, My way or the highway."
"Alright, woman," Severus waved his hand irritably, "We'll do it your way, but I have something more to tell you, something very grave. Hermione, if you wouldn't mind excusing us for a moment."
Hermione stood to leave, but Deb put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her down again.
"Whatever it is, she can stay."
"But it concerns her very closely, and I think you should know first, so we can—"
"Whatever it is Severus, if it concerns her, she should probably find out before me, but seeing as though we're both here, we'll both find out."
Severus shook his head and sighed.
"Very well," he turned to Hermione, his eyes pouring out a sadness and gravity Hermione had never before seen.
"Hermione, Lucius Malfoy kidnapped your parents. The night they tortured me, the final act of entertainment for the night was to end their lives."
Hermione didn't understand.
"What?"
"Your parents. They have been murdered."
Hermione didn't understand. She looked everywhere for a reason, to Deb, to Severus, to the walls, the beds, the chairs, the windows…
But there wasn't an answer to be had.
"Why?" she pleaded to him, "Why?"
"The Dark Lord…he…he decreed that they would be the first to die as a symbol of his new rule. Harry and Albus will be next, and then….and then it will be you."
"Why?" She asked again.
"I don't know," He said sadly, "I don't know."
Hermione felt only a furious incomprehension. He knows why. He must know why. Why won't he tell me why? She burst forward and flung her arms at him, trying to make him answer.
"Why! Why! WHY?"
Deb firmly but gently drew her away from her target. Hermione only threw herself more furiously at him and his mournful, pitying, mocking eyes, But Deb was too strong, taking her further from her target as she tried to calm Hermione.
"Hermione, shhhh, it's alright….shhh," Hermione fought with all the fury she could muster, all the fury that could hold her away from her true emotion. But she couldn't hold on. The rage broke, swept away by an explosive grief that tore through her and weakened her body, so much so that her legs failed to support her any longer.
But Deb was quick, shifting from drawing her back to keeping her upright, and then moving her to sit on the bed. Hermione curled herself over, tears silently finding their way down her cheeks, two sets of eyes watching her in unspoken concern. She was quickly gathered up in Deb arms and hugged tightly, which only augmented her sorrow by reminding her of her mother. She cried for her mother, her mother who didn't understand her, but strove to nonetheless. Her mother, who was everything, a huge force in her life, and was now replaced with a tremendous vacuum.
She then felt Severus' hand on her left shoulder, which would've been a kind gesture, were it not the very kind gesture her father used for her too. That sent her over the edge. She erupted into maddened weeping for her father, who'd taught her to strive for knowledge above all other things in life, to look for the answer, to find a solution to every problem.
There were no solutions now.
