A/N: An update, hopefully before this story was forgotten altogether! I
didn't want to leave it forever unfinished, so I am going to make the
effort to write the final few chapters, probably only 2 or 3 after this
one, sometime within the next few weeks.
I own nothing except the plot, all else belongs to JKR
I hope you enjoy it, please review!
***
The next few days passed quickly for Hermione, and her initial fears about having nothing to do with her time were quickly banished by the hours she spent in the offices of various Professors, talking and drinking tea. The monotony of repeating the same story over and over again was lessened by the comfort she found that she could take from the presence of familiar faces. Dumbledore was an almost constant shadow, always near whether Hermione was aware of him or not. She spoke with him every day, every day growing a little in confidence, and testing out her rediscovered magical talents. Her confidence grew quickly then, she found enough humour in her situation to liken her affiliation with the magic to any kind of muggle addiction, but with less dramatic consequences. She had been a talented witch, Dumbledore told her, so there was no reason why she could not be so again.
They did not speak about her ever leaving them again, even though Hermione had given it much consideration. She knew from her discussions with Snape that there would be very little for her to return for, and the danger such a return posed to her was not to be taken lightly. Her decision to remain, at least for the foreseeable future, seemed made for her, and Hermione could not resent it. When you were born a witch, she reasoned, you belonged.
Having made up her mind, her first impulse was to seek out the one who had become her mentor of late. He had been incredibly elusive in the days since she had confessed all to him, and almost a week had passed during which she had only seen him at mealtimes, in the Great Hall, and never to speak to. Dumbledore, perceptive as always, had suggested that Severus was much happier closeted away in his dungeons than roaming around the countryside protecting a wayward witch. Hermione was not surprised at this; she knew enough of the man to understand his reclusiveness.
It was after dinner on New Year's Eve when she left her rooms to find him, feeling a peculiar despair at the thought of spending another night reading alone. The staircases and hallways of the castle were deserted and silent as she made her way down to the dungeons, which were themselves forbiddingly dark. Her footsteps echoed unnervingly as she made her way to Snape's classroom, almost at a run. She was relieved to see a light shining from underneath the closed door; at least someone was down here!
Pushing open the door, and wincing as it scraped loudly against the stone flags of the dungeon floor, Hermione stepped into the room with a boldness she did not feel. Snape stood with his back to her at one of the desks, robes shoved up his elbows despite the coldness of the room. He back straightened a little as she entered the room but he did not turn, instead continuing to stir the substance in the cauldron before him. Hermione stayed where she was, uncertain of her welcome, and it was only after a tense few moments that she heard Snape sigh impatiently.
"Miss Granger, I require your assistance," he intoned silkily.
Stepping over to where he stood, Hermione watched impassively as his clever hands chopped and stirred where necessary. He did not speak, and neither did she, as he silently handed her a pestle and mortar and a small quantity of dry asphodel root. Correctly recognizing that he was making a dreamless sleep potion, Hermione set about reducing the asphodel into a fine powder, and then handed it back so that he could tip it into the cauldron. Ten sirs clockwise later, Snape cast a critical eye over the contents and switched off the heat beneath the cauldron with an efficient 'click'.
Dark eyes appraised her from close quarters.
"How are you feeling?" He asked her carefully, eyes not leaving hers.
"Fine. You may or may not be pleased to know that, at least for the meantime, I have decided to stay." Hermione managed a small smile and Snape gave a short nod.
"It is for the best," he hesitated, and then reached out a hand to pat her gently on the shoulder. "Even if you do perhaps feel that it is otherwise."
"I know," she whispered softly. "I know."
Snape caught her downcast expression and lifted her chin with strong fingers.
"You remaining does have...certain advantages," he murmured, stroking her cheek with gentle, precise strokes.
Hermione felt her mouth go dry as he lowered his face to hers.
"And they would be...?" She chanced the question already knowing the answer. Whatever it was that going on between herself and the Professor, she was loathe to put a stop to it, Dumbledore's warnings or no.
"Come now Miss Granger," his words were almost velvety against her skin. "Do not tell me that a witch of your intellect cannot work out the answer to that question herself."
She managed a smile at this, and he was just about to close the distance between them completely and kiss her when a small cough was heard from the direction of the classroom door.
They split hurriedly apart seconds before Dumbledore himself walked into the room. If he sensed that there was something amiss between the two of them, his benign expression gave nothing away, and Hermione fought to control the telltale blush that stained her cheeks.
"Ah Severus, and Miss Granger," Dumbledore addressed them both. "Finding you here together gives me the advantage of not speaking to each of you separately."
"I was brewing a potion for the infirmary, Headmaster," Snape said hurriedly. "Herm – Miss Granger here was simply assisting me."
Dumbledore's eyes, blue and sharp, swept over Hermione thoughtfully.
"Indeed," he said softly. "Miss Granger, you may wish to take a seat. What I am about to tell you may come as something of a shock."
Hermione slid into a seat behind one of the desks, Snape remained standing. Dumbledore's expression became almost grave, his face tightening a little, and Hermione felt a thrill of fear.
"What is it, Professor? What's wrong?" Her voice worked of its' own volition, the questions were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"Hush child," Dumbledore soothed her quietly. "Nothing is yet lost, there is still time."
"Time for what, Headmaster?" This time it was Snape who asked the question, and Hermione looked impatiently from one to the other.
There was an extraordinarily long pause.
"Hermione," Dumbledore addressed her directly. "I am afraid that there has been a slight change of plan regarding how you must help Harry." Hermione's eyebrows rose, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Snape make a peculiar jerking movement towards her. Snapping her attention back to the Headmaster, she nodded her head a little to show that she understood.
"What is it?" She repeated.
"You must wake him tonight," Dumbledore said simply.
Hermione gave a little start, coming to her feet before she was aware of the impulse to do so.
"Is it Voldemort, is Harry in danger?" Her voice was much calmer than she felt it should be. Dumbledore shook his head.
"No. But yes, Harry is in danger. I fear that if we leave things much longer that the damage will be irreversible."
"He's dying?" She covered her mouth with her hand. Dumbledore studied her silently for a moment.
"I cannot lie to you, Miss Granger. We fear...we fear that he may not last the night without intervention."
Hermione threw him, and then Snape, a horrified look and then let her feet take her from the room as quickly as they would carry her. She was dimly aware of their attempts to call her back, and then hurried footsteps behind her, but paid no attention to either, breaking into a run for the stairs.
Darting across the entrance hall and then up another flight of stairs, Hermione had burst through the closed doors of the infirmary before her thoughts had the change to catch up with her feet. What she was feeling went beyond fear; she was terrified. Marching down to the screens that she knew Harry was being kept behind, she felt grim satisfaction in Poppy Pomfrey's astonished expression, but brushed past her and stared down at where Harry lay upon the bed.
Dumbledore, it seemed, had not been exaggerating when he had suggested that Harry was near death; he looked terrible, much worse than any of the other nights Hermione had been to visit him. His skin was pale and sweating, his expression a frightening grimace. He was thrashing upon the bed, struggling against the bonds which sought to hold him still as if within the grip of a terrible nightmare. Hermione reached out to touch him, and hesitated, realizing that touching him would achieve nothing.
A clattering of footsteps announced the arrival of Snape and Dumbledore, both wearing expressions of concern. Hermione turned to them helplessly before looking back at Harry.
"Please, Professor Dumbledore. Please don't let him die!" She was pleading with him when she knew that he did not hold the solution to the problem. "I know what it is that I must do, Professor Snape told me a week ago. Let me help him, please!"
Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them angrily away. Dumbledore looked uncertain, but Hermione knew that he would not refuse her offer. Over his shoulder, Snape had paled, and was looking at her anxiously.
"Hermione," he stepped in front of Dumbledore and grasped her hands in both of his. "Hermione, I do not know if you are ready for this...and once we begin I cannot protect you if something goes wrong." His gaze was intense, Hermione felt herself almost painfully drawn to him. She squeezed his hands in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.
"I am ready. And nothing will go wrong," she whispered to him. "I'll bring us both back safely, I promise."
Snape lifted a hand, touched her cheek once and then drew silently away. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and then reopened them with renewed resolve, staring directly at Dumbledore.
"If you are ready then, if you are prepared." It was not lost on her that she had heard these words before, spoken to another. Wordlessly, she nodded.
"Then we will begin," Snape's voice floated to her as if from far away, "whilst there is still time."
TBC
I own nothing except the plot, all else belongs to JKR
I hope you enjoy it, please review!
***
The next few days passed quickly for Hermione, and her initial fears about having nothing to do with her time were quickly banished by the hours she spent in the offices of various Professors, talking and drinking tea. The monotony of repeating the same story over and over again was lessened by the comfort she found that she could take from the presence of familiar faces. Dumbledore was an almost constant shadow, always near whether Hermione was aware of him or not. She spoke with him every day, every day growing a little in confidence, and testing out her rediscovered magical talents. Her confidence grew quickly then, she found enough humour in her situation to liken her affiliation with the magic to any kind of muggle addiction, but with less dramatic consequences. She had been a talented witch, Dumbledore told her, so there was no reason why she could not be so again.
They did not speak about her ever leaving them again, even though Hermione had given it much consideration. She knew from her discussions with Snape that there would be very little for her to return for, and the danger such a return posed to her was not to be taken lightly. Her decision to remain, at least for the foreseeable future, seemed made for her, and Hermione could not resent it. When you were born a witch, she reasoned, you belonged.
Having made up her mind, her first impulse was to seek out the one who had become her mentor of late. He had been incredibly elusive in the days since she had confessed all to him, and almost a week had passed during which she had only seen him at mealtimes, in the Great Hall, and never to speak to. Dumbledore, perceptive as always, had suggested that Severus was much happier closeted away in his dungeons than roaming around the countryside protecting a wayward witch. Hermione was not surprised at this; she knew enough of the man to understand his reclusiveness.
It was after dinner on New Year's Eve when she left her rooms to find him, feeling a peculiar despair at the thought of spending another night reading alone. The staircases and hallways of the castle were deserted and silent as she made her way down to the dungeons, which were themselves forbiddingly dark. Her footsteps echoed unnervingly as she made her way to Snape's classroom, almost at a run. She was relieved to see a light shining from underneath the closed door; at least someone was down here!
Pushing open the door, and wincing as it scraped loudly against the stone flags of the dungeon floor, Hermione stepped into the room with a boldness she did not feel. Snape stood with his back to her at one of the desks, robes shoved up his elbows despite the coldness of the room. He back straightened a little as she entered the room but he did not turn, instead continuing to stir the substance in the cauldron before him. Hermione stayed where she was, uncertain of her welcome, and it was only after a tense few moments that she heard Snape sigh impatiently.
"Miss Granger, I require your assistance," he intoned silkily.
Stepping over to where he stood, Hermione watched impassively as his clever hands chopped and stirred where necessary. He did not speak, and neither did she, as he silently handed her a pestle and mortar and a small quantity of dry asphodel root. Correctly recognizing that he was making a dreamless sleep potion, Hermione set about reducing the asphodel into a fine powder, and then handed it back so that he could tip it into the cauldron. Ten sirs clockwise later, Snape cast a critical eye over the contents and switched off the heat beneath the cauldron with an efficient 'click'.
Dark eyes appraised her from close quarters.
"How are you feeling?" He asked her carefully, eyes not leaving hers.
"Fine. You may or may not be pleased to know that, at least for the meantime, I have decided to stay." Hermione managed a small smile and Snape gave a short nod.
"It is for the best," he hesitated, and then reached out a hand to pat her gently on the shoulder. "Even if you do perhaps feel that it is otherwise."
"I know," she whispered softly. "I know."
Snape caught her downcast expression and lifted her chin with strong fingers.
"You remaining does have...certain advantages," he murmured, stroking her cheek with gentle, precise strokes.
Hermione felt her mouth go dry as he lowered his face to hers.
"And they would be...?" She chanced the question already knowing the answer. Whatever it was that going on between herself and the Professor, she was loathe to put a stop to it, Dumbledore's warnings or no.
"Come now Miss Granger," his words were almost velvety against her skin. "Do not tell me that a witch of your intellect cannot work out the answer to that question herself."
She managed a smile at this, and he was just about to close the distance between them completely and kiss her when a small cough was heard from the direction of the classroom door.
They split hurriedly apart seconds before Dumbledore himself walked into the room. If he sensed that there was something amiss between the two of them, his benign expression gave nothing away, and Hermione fought to control the telltale blush that stained her cheeks.
"Ah Severus, and Miss Granger," Dumbledore addressed them both. "Finding you here together gives me the advantage of not speaking to each of you separately."
"I was brewing a potion for the infirmary, Headmaster," Snape said hurriedly. "Herm – Miss Granger here was simply assisting me."
Dumbledore's eyes, blue and sharp, swept over Hermione thoughtfully.
"Indeed," he said softly. "Miss Granger, you may wish to take a seat. What I am about to tell you may come as something of a shock."
Hermione slid into a seat behind one of the desks, Snape remained standing. Dumbledore's expression became almost grave, his face tightening a little, and Hermione felt a thrill of fear.
"What is it, Professor? What's wrong?" Her voice worked of its' own volition, the questions were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"Hush child," Dumbledore soothed her quietly. "Nothing is yet lost, there is still time."
"Time for what, Headmaster?" This time it was Snape who asked the question, and Hermione looked impatiently from one to the other.
There was an extraordinarily long pause.
"Hermione," Dumbledore addressed her directly. "I am afraid that there has been a slight change of plan regarding how you must help Harry." Hermione's eyebrows rose, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Snape make a peculiar jerking movement towards her. Snapping her attention back to the Headmaster, she nodded her head a little to show that she understood.
"What is it?" She repeated.
"You must wake him tonight," Dumbledore said simply.
Hermione gave a little start, coming to her feet before she was aware of the impulse to do so.
"Is it Voldemort, is Harry in danger?" Her voice was much calmer than she felt it should be. Dumbledore shook his head.
"No. But yes, Harry is in danger. I fear that if we leave things much longer that the damage will be irreversible."
"He's dying?" She covered her mouth with her hand. Dumbledore studied her silently for a moment.
"I cannot lie to you, Miss Granger. We fear...we fear that he may not last the night without intervention."
Hermione threw him, and then Snape, a horrified look and then let her feet take her from the room as quickly as they would carry her. She was dimly aware of their attempts to call her back, and then hurried footsteps behind her, but paid no attention to either, breaking into a run for the stairs.
Darting across the entrance hall and then up another flight of stairs, Hermione had burst through the closed doors of the infirmary before her thoughts had the change to catch up with her feet. What she was feeling went beyond fear; she was terrified. Marching down to the screens that she knew Harry was being kept behind, she felt grim satisfaction in Poppy Pomfrey's astonished expression, but brushed past her and stared down at where Harry lay upon the bed.
Dumbledore, it seemed, had not been exaggerating when he had suggested that Harry was near death; he looked terrible, much worse than any of the other nights Hermione had been to visit him. His skin was pale and sweating, his expression a frightening grimace. He was thrashing upon the bed, struggling against the bonds which sought to hold him still as if within the grip of a terrible nightmare. Hermione reached out to touch him, and hesitated, realizing that touching him would achieve nothing.
A clattering of footsteps announced the arrival of Snape and Dumbledore, both wearing expressions of concern. Hermione turned to them helplessly before looking back at Harry.
"Please, Professor Dumbledore. Please don't let him die!" She was pleading with him when she knew that he did not hold the solution to the problem. "I know what it is that I must do, Professor Snape told me a week ago. Let me help him, please!"
Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them angrily away. Dumbledore looked uncertain, but Hermione knew that he would not refuse her offer. Over his shoulder, Snape had paled, and was looking at her anxiously.
"Hermione," he stepped in front of Dumbledore and grasped her hands in both of his. "Hermione, I do not know if you are ready for this...and once we begin I cannot protect you if something goes wrong." His gaze was intense, Hermione felt herself almost painfully drawn to him. She squeezed his hands in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.
"I am ready. And nothing will go wrong," she whispered to him. "I'll bring us both back safely, I promise."
Snape lifted a hand, touched her cheek once and then drew silently away. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and then reopened them with renewed resolve, staring directly at Dumbledore.
"If you are ready then, if you are prepared." It was not lost on her that she had heard these words before, spoken to another. Wordlessly, she nodded.
"Then we will begin," Snape's voice floated to her as if from far away, "whilst there is still time."
TBC