Warm embraces from old friends, once thought lost. Smiling faces, the
chatter of conversation. A hundred questions that Hermione tried bravely
to answer.
"Yes thank you, I'm very well."
"Seven years. A long time, I know."
"Something to do with Dumbledore, I don't know what yet."
"Professor Snape. He was most insistent."
"No, not at all, he was quite the gentleman."
An island in a sea of overzealous people, Hermione closed her eyes in a brief moment when exhaustion threatened to claim her and opened them again when a firm hand grasped her shoulder. Albus Dumbledore's aged face looked kindly down on her.
"I suppose that you are quite tired," he murmured. Hermione nodded, and smiled weakly at her assorted old friends. "It would not do to exhaust you further with such . . . superfluous questioning. Everyone that you see here are very glad to see you, Hermione."
With a wave of his hand the people before them stepped to one side in order to allow them safe passage deeper into the castle. With murmuring calls of 'goodnight' echoing behind them, Dumbledore led Hermione a short distance to a small door halfway up the west tower and stopped.
"Headmaster, what am I expected . . ." She looked up at him expectantly, but any hope for answers this night was dashed by his reply.
"Now, child, there will be time for your questions when you have had an opportunity to settle in properly." He smiled at her frustrated expression benignly. "I know you seek many answers, but now is not the time. It is Christmas. Please, enjoy yourself, and when you are ready, you will know."
"But I'm ready now!"
"The password on your rooms is 'licorice allsorts', but of course you may change it if you wish." Dumbledore continued as if he had not heard her protestation at all.
"But Headmaster!"
"Goodnight, Hermione." His voice was firm, warning her against further argument, but his eyes were twinkling in the dim light of the corridor. He dropped an unexpected kiss onto the top of her head, his beard tickling her face as he did so.
"Goodnight, Headmaster," sighing her assent, Hermione watched as he walked away in what she vaguely remembered as the direction of his office, and then stared as he turned back slightly.
"I for one am very glad you have returned to us, Child," he said softly. "You have my word that I would not do you further harm after all that it has taken to make you return."
Sudden tears glittered in her eyes.
"I know," she whispered. "And I trust you."
With a wave of his hand, he rounded a corner and was gone. Hermione turned grimly back to the door and muttered the password at it. The door swung open at once to reveal a circular room dominated by a canopied bed on a raised platform. A fire crackled in the grate, the room was warm and cozy. With a little cry of frustration and exhaustion, she pushed the door closed and made straight for the bed. A pair of brushed cotton pajamas, Hermione's size, and a small bundle of toiletries lay next to the pillow. Picking up both, she walked slowly into the small bathroom which adjoined the bedroom, finding it well appointed with a freestanding bath and a rack stacked high with fluffy white towels. She looked longingly at both, but as sleep was rushing to claim her she simply washed her face and brushed her teeth before slipping out of her cloak and robes and into the pajamas. Leaning over the marble sink she looked at her reflection in the gilt-edged mirror and sighed. For a moment, she did not recognize the young woman staring back at her, and the huge brown eyes in the pale faced reflection grew wide. Wearily freeing her cinnamon curls from what remained of her bun she finger-combed them out over her shoulders and stifled a yawn. The bed beckoned.
Picking up her wand from the jumble of clothes now on the bathroom floor Hermione walked back into the bedroom and tucked it under the pillow where she intended to lay her head.
"Just like old times," she murmured, sliding under the heavy duvet and pulling it right up to her chin. The lights in the room diminished to almost nothing, and her heavy eyes drifted closed. The deep silence held her in a gentle embrace, lulling her to sleep almost instantly, and for once, Hermione did not dream of the castle in which she now slept.
Safe now, her subconscious whispered into her sleeping ears. Safe.
*
The dawn was still someway off when Hermione came suddenly awake again, and her bleary brain told her that she had been sleeping for less than six hours. She was disoriented for a moment, until the memories flooded back to startle her into full wakefulness, and then she lay in the dark for long minutes pondering the decisions that had led her to her current position. Her thoughts offered her little comfort, and restlessness eventually stole her from her bed.
Her feet, upon touching the platform on which the bed rested, immediately found a pair of slippers, and her smile in the darkness was wide. Sliding her feet into them, she walked silently across the floor of her rooms to the door.
Pulling it open, she paused for a moment, wondering what she was doing and where she was going. The hallway beyond the door was silent and shadowed as torches burned low. Nothing moved.
Reminding herself that she was no longer a student, Hermione stepped boldly into the corridor and the door closed behind her with a soft 'click'. Letting her feet take her wherever they would while allowing her mind to drift aimlessly, she rounded a corner and descended a narrow flight of stairs without really seeing them. Finding herself in a corridor identical to the previous one she followed that, also, and abruptly found herself in the main entrance to the castle.
The room was dominated by the biggest Christmas tree she had ever seen, twinkling a little in the half-light of the room, and she stood silently next to it for a moment, inhaling its' rich pine scent which reminded her fiercely of Christmas. Turning a little to her right, Hermione noticed the four house point counters recessed into the wall on the far side of the hallway, and moved closer to stand right in front of them.
Nostalgia assailed her, leaving her suddenly breathless. Had it really been seven years? Standing solitary in the darkness she longed for that which could never be returned and then shook her head to clear the cloudy memories. The counters told her that Gryffindor were currently leading the house championship, with Slytherin and Ravenclaw not too far behind. Wondering what Snape would have to say about that curved her lips in a half smile. Thinking of Snape gave her a small start. Remembering his words to her in the snow, Hermione's head turned towards the archway containing the stairs that led down to the dungeons. Would she be welcome there? Had anything changed in the time she had been away? Intensely curious to know, she made her way cautiously down the stairs and into the chilly depths of the castle.
Colder now, and her breath fogging the air in front of her a little, Hermione was surprised with the ease that her feet led her to the potions classroom. Pushing open the unlocked door, she entered the room on silent feet and stood in the centre of the deserted room. There was no way of knowing where Snape's rooms might be, but she sensed that they were somewhere close by. If he was there, she knew, he would come to her.
Several minutes ebbed away and Hermione felt herself growing colder. Shivering a little, she scanned the room hopefully.
"Professor Snape?" Her voice was low but clear and carried to every corner of the room. "Severus?"
There was no response, and Hermione felt oddly disappointed. Backtracking into the main entranceway, she once again let her feet be her guides as her mind remembered black eyes staring into her own. When she came to a halt outside the hospital wing she looked at the door in mild surprise, and yawned.
"I wonder if Poppy is awake yet?" She murmured to herself. "Maybe she'll have a dreamless sleep potion that I can take . . ."
Pushing open the door, her eyes immediately fell upon a screened off section of the room, and sympathy combined with an innate curiosity compelled her forward. To be in bed ill at Christmas must be an awful thing. A silhouette on the other side of the screen moved a little and Hermione almost turned back, relived that whoever it was was not alone. Close enough to touch the screens, she peered around them and gave a sharp gasp of disbelief.
The figure sitting sleepily on a chair at the side of the screened off bed was Severus Snape, and he spotted her as soon as she emitted the sound, rising to his feet in a defensive gesture designed to warn her off. Hermione was only vaguely aware of him, so transfixed was her gaze upon the figure lying motionless and sickly in the bed.
Messy dark hair, overlong and in desperate need of cutting. A scar, shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. His eyes were closed, but Hermione knew that should he open them that they would be bright green.
Giving another little gasp, she clung to the edge of the screen and stared. Opening her mouth, she spoke in a frightened whisper.
"Harry?"
***
A/N: Now come on, tell me that you didn't see *that* coming! This is just a filler chapter for further revelations ahead, and all will be revealed very shortly! If everything is a bit confusing, I am working on answering all of your questions through the story. One thing I can confirm is that Snape is definitely not a vampire! None of the revelations to come concern him, and I'm sorry if I've given the (misleading) impression that he is or might be. The thing with Hermione's cottage was to do with wards placed there by Dumbledore, not because SS is a vamp! I hope that doesn't disappoint.
Many thanks for all of the reviews so far, I'm hoping to be able to drag this out a little while longer yet, so please keep them coming!
"Yes thank you, I'm very well."
"Seven years. A long time, I know."
"Something to do with Dumbledore, I don't know what yet."
"Professor Snape. He was most insistent."
"No, not at all, he was quite the gentleman."
An island in a sea of overzealous people, Hermione closed her eyes in a brief moment when exhaustion threatened to claim her and opened them again when a firm hand grasped her shoulder. Albus Dumbledore's aged face looked kindly down on her.
"I suppose that you are quite tired," he murmured. Hermione nodded, and smiled weakly at her assorted old friends. "It would not do to exhaust you further with such . . . superfluous questioning. Everyone that you see here are very glad to see you, Hermione."
With a wave of his hand the people before them stepped to one side in order to allow them safe passage deeper into the castle. With murmuring calls of 'goodnight' echoing behind them, Dumbledore led Hermione a short distance to a small door halfway up the west tower and stopped.
"Headmaster, what am I expected . . ." She looked up at him expectantly, but any hope for answers this night was dashed by his reply.
"Now, child, there will be time for your questions when you have had an opportunity to settle in properly." He smiled at her frustrated expression benignly. "I know you seek many answers, but now is not the time. It is Christmas. Please, enjoy yourself, and when you are ready, you will know."
"But I'm ready now!"
"The password on your rooms is 'licorice allsorts', but of course you may change it if you wish." Dumbledore continued as if he had not heard her protestation at all.
"But Headmaster!"
"Goodnight, Hermione." His voice was firm, warning her against further argument, but his eyes were twinkling in the dim light of the corridor. He dropped an unexpected kiss onto the top of her head, his beard tickling her face as he did so.
"Goodnight, Headmaster," sighing her assent, Hermione watched as he walked away in what she vaguely remembered as the direction of his office, and then stared as he turned back slightly.
"I for one am very glad you have returned to us, Child," he said softly. "You have my word that I would not do you further harm after all that it has taken to make you return."
Sudden tears glittered in her eyes.
"I know," she whispered. "And I trust you."
With a wave of his hand, he rounded a corner and was gone. Hermione turned grimly back to the door and muttered the password at it. The door swung open at once to reveal a circular room dominated by a canopied bed on a raised platform. A fire crackled in the grate, the room was warm and cozy. With a little cry of frustration and exhaustion, she pushed the door closed and made straight for the bed. A pair of brushed cotton pajamas, Hermione's size, and a small bundle of toiletries lay next to the pillow. Picking up both, she walked slowly into the small bathroom which adjoined the bedroom, finding it well appointed with a freestanding bath and a rack stacked high with fluffy white towels. She looked longingly at both, but as sleep was rushing to claim her she simply washed her face and brushed her teeth before slipping out of her cloak and robes and into the pajamas. Leaning over the marble sink she looked at her reflection in the gilt-edged mirror and sighed. For a moment, she did not recognize the young woman staring back at her, and the huge brown eyes in the pale faced reflection grew wide. Wearily freeing her cinnamon curls from what remained of her bun she finger-combed them out over her shoulders and stifled a yawn. The bed beckoned.
Picking up her wand from the jumble of clothes now on the bathroom floor Hermione walked back into the bedroom and tucked it under the pillow where she intended to lay her head.
"Just like old times," she murmured, sliding under the heavy duvet and pulling it right up to her chin. The lights in the room diminished to almost nothing, and her heavy eyes drifted closed. The deep silence held her in a gentle embrace, lulling her to sleep almost instantly, and for once, Hermione did not dream of the castle in which she now slept.
Safe now, her subconscious whispered into her sleeping ears. Safe.
*
The dawn was still someway off when Hermione came suddenly awake again, and her bleary brain told her that she had been sleeping for less than six hours. She was disoriented for a moment, until the memories flooded back to startle her into full wakefulness, and then she lay in the dark for long minutes pondering the decisions that had led her to her current position. Her thoughts offered her little comfort, and restlessness eventually stole her from her bed.
Her feet, upon touching the platform on which the bed rested, immediately found a pair of slippers, and her smile in the darkness was wide. Sliding her feet into them, she walked silently across the floor of her rooms to the door.
Pulling it open, she paused for a moment, wondering what she was doing and where she was going. The hallway beyond the door was silent and shadowed as torches burned low. Nothing moved.
Reminding herself that she was no longer a student, Hermione stepped boldly into the corridor and the door closed behind her with a soft 'click'. Letting her feet take her wherever they would while allowing her mind to drift aimlessly, she rounded a corner and descended a narrow flight of stairs without really seeing them. Finding herself in a corridor identical to the previous one she followed that, also, and abruptly found herself in the main entrance to the castle.
The room was dominated by the biggest Christmas tree she had ever seen, twinkling a little in the half-light of the room, and she stood silently next to it for a moment, inhaling its' rich pine scent which reminded her fiercely of Christmas. Turning a little to her right, Hermione noticed the four house point counters recessed into the wall on the far side of the hallway, and moved closer to stand right in front of them.
Nostalgia assailed her, leaving her suddenly breathless. Had it really been seven years? Standing solitary in the darkness she longed for that which could never be returned and then shook her head to clear the cloudy memories. The counters told her that Gryffindor were currently leading the house championship, with Slytherin and Ravenclaw not too far behind. Wondering what Snape would have to say about that curved her lips in a half smile. Thinking of Snape gave her a small start. Remembering his words to her in the snow, Hermione's head turned towards the archway containing the stairs that led down to the dungeons. Would she be welcome there? Had anything changed in the time she had been away? Intensely curious to know, she made her way cautiously down the stairs and into the chilly depths of the castle.
Colder now, and her breath fogging the air in front of her a little, Hermione was surprised with the ease that her feet led her to the potions classroom. Pushing open the unlocked door, she entered the room on silent feet and stood in the centre of the deserted room. There was no way of knowing where Snape's rooms might be, but she sensed that they were somewhere close by. If he was there, she knew, he would come to her.
Several minutes ebbed away and Hermione felt herself growing colder. Shivering a little, she scanned the room hopefully.
"Professor Snape?" Her voice was low but clear and carried to every corner of the room. "Severus?"
There was no response, and Hermione felt oddly disappointed. Backtracking into the main entranceway, she once again let her feet be her guides as her mind remembered black eyes staring into her own. When she came to a halt outside the hospital wing she looked at the door in mild surprise, and yawned.
"I wonder if Poppy is awake yet?" She murmured to herself. "Maybe she'll have a dreamless sleep potion that I can take . . ."
Pushing open the door, her eyes immediately fell upon a screened off section of the room, and sympathy combined with an innate curiosity compelled her forward. To be in bed ill at Christmas must be an awful thing. A silhouette on the other side of the screen moved a little and Hermione almost turned back, relived that whoever it was was not alone. Close enough to touch the screens, she peered around them and gave a sharp gasp of disbelief.
The figure sitting sleepily on a chair at the side of the screened off bed was Severus Snape, and he spotted her as soon as she emitted the sound, rising to his feet in a defensive gesture designed to warn her off. Hermione was only vaguely aware of him, so transfixed was her gaze upon the figure lying motionless and sickly in the bed.
Messy dark hair, overlong and in desperate need of cutting. A scar, shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. His eyes were closed, but Hermione knew that should he open them that they would be bright green.
Giving another little gasp, she clung to the edge of the screen and stared. Opening her mouth, she spoke in a frightened whisper.
"Harry?"
***
A/N: Now come on, tell me that you didn't see *that* coming! This is just a filler chapter for further revelations ahead, and all will be revealed very shortly! If everything is a bit confusing, I am working on answering all of your questions through the story. One thing I can confirm is that Snape is definitely not a vampire! None of the revelations to come concern him, and I'm sorry if I've given the (misleading) impression that he is or might be. The thing with Hermione's cottage was to do with wards placed there by Dumbledore, not because SS is a vamp! I hope that doesn't disappoint.
Many thanks for all of the reviews so far, I'm hoping to be able to drag this out a little while longer yet, so please keep them coming!