Disclaimers and warnings in Part one.. Yadda yadda yadda.
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Fugue State Part 11
*****
Hermione arrived home, more confused than ever. Her last meeting with the Headmaster had done nothing to alleviate her concerns. As usual, Dumbledore was annoyingly enigmatic and cryptic. She should have been relieved, but settled on eating the dinner and trying to keep up with the conversation, all the while cursing omnipotent Headmasters. She was still grumbling two days later as she walked into a room, sat down waiting for the jailers to bring Snape up from the depths of Azkaban.
She thought she was prepared, she'd seen the state of Snape at the trial, she'd been at the Final Battle, and thought nothing would ever shock her again. Seeing a battlefield and widespread death and destruction cured her of any reactions to the horrors of the world. But they weren't in the world. Here, she sat in a small, confined room staring across at a shell of a man. What had once been one of the most feared figures in the Wizarding World, Hermione knew he'd terrorized countless students, now was, well, nothing.
He sat, staring blankly at her. For all she knew, he didn't even recognize her. She certainly had no clue what to say. They sat there in silence, Hermione fighting to keep from squirming in her chair, before she let out a sigh, this was hopeless, Snape looked worse, impossibly enough, than he'd been at the trial. Not to mention, she thought, crinkling her nose, smelt a little rank. Obviously, they'd cleaned him up a bit, but it probably would take more than a shower to get the stink out of him. She looked at his head, in relief this time, it would probably be worse if he still had hair. Unfortunately, the shorn head did nothing to enhance his looks. Then again, the prison outfit wasn't the most flattering. Snape never could have been called anything close to handsome, now he looked downright pathetic. To make matters worse, all he'd done since he'd been brought in was stare at her. She could be a wall for all the reaction she was getting from the man. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, she had no idea how to get him out of the catatonic state he looked to be in. She started at the movement before her, Snape blinked, it was the first sign of life that she'd seen from the man.
"Professor?" Nothing, she tried again. "Professor Snape?" Now they were getting somewhere. Snape actually looked at her, seemingly aware that a live person was before him. Hermione plunged ahead, "Professor, I guess you're wondering the reasons as to why I'm here. I wanted to discuss with you your actions right before the Final Battle. I also wanted to get some information about you. You seem to be the only person in the world without any records. I want to know why," Hermione spoke, the words rushing out of her. She felt as though she had to speak quickly, before Snape fell once again into non-awareness of the world around him.
Snape, to her annoyance, didn't say anything. Hermione tried another tack. "Professor, can you understand me? I know you've been ill, but Professor Dumbledore informed me that he'd spoken to you on some prior occasions. I'd hoped you give me the courtesy of speaking to me in regards to my questions, I believe you owe me as much," at that, Snape reacted.
"I'm not," the hoarse voice filled the room.
"Not what?" Hermione queried.
"Professor."
Hermione felt at a loss at Snape's response, "Well, what do I call you?"
Snape, it seemed, had said all he would say in the matter and lapsed back into silence. Hermione leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table, trying to get as close to the man across from her. She hoped that the increased proximity would aid in communication with the laconic man.
"Would you rather I call you Severus?"
At that, Snape almost seemed to smile. He closed his eyes, and Hermione feared that he'd lapsed into that somnolent state he'd been in before. She waited, starting at the voice that came from the man.
"No."
"Then what?" Hermione was definitely annoyed, she'd never get anywhere if Snape were incapable of anything other than monosyllabic answers. She fought to keep from shaking him, of course, the barrier between them forbade any physical contact, but she continued. "Snape, do you even know who I am?"
Once again, Snape's only response was to blink at her, she never thought she would miss the sneer, but she thought the blink was a thousand fold more annoying. "Snape," she tried again, her voice rising, "we'll get nowhere if you can't continue the conversation."
"Where are we going?"
Wonderful, thought Hermione, not only was Snape out there, he'd now become absolutely cryptic. "We're trying to have a conversation. I'm attempting to get information out of you."
"About?"
Hermione wished they hadn't taken her wand, with it she could summon cue cards to assist Snape. He obviously was incapable of maintaining a coherent train of thought. "I told you."
"Listen."
"To what?"
"Everyone."
"Pardon? Look, Snape, I came here for answers. You owe me that."
"Everyone knows."
"No one knows anything. That's why I'm here, don't you understand? I want you to explain," Hermione stated, bringing her hand down on the table with a bang. She flinched at the sound her palm made in the room, it echoed throughout.
"What?"
"Snape," Hermione snapped, "you're here. You committed treason. You've been tried and convicted as a Death Eater. You betrayed the most respected man in the world and now you sit here spouting nonsense. I came here for answers."
"You haven't asked the questions."
"Snape," Hermione said, fighting to keep from screaming in frustration, "all I've done is ask you questions, you haven't answered a thing."
"Not the right questions."
Hermione considered the man before her. He hadn't altered his expression, his face remained blank, voice hoarse and cracked, perhaps from nonuse. Hermione tried not to think of the alternative, that he'd damaged it from screaming. There'd been nights when Sirius had tried to take their minds off the coming battle. Unfortunately, Sirius' method had been to talk about things that were more horrifying than waiting to go into combat, it turned out that being in prison was fairly horrifying. Hermione's attention returned to the man before her.
"Then what do you want me ask?" she said, returning to the conversation at hand.
"You have to listen."
Hermione looked around for something to throw at the man before her. Unfortunately, the room was completely bare. "Snape, you aren't making any sense. I went to considerable trouble to visit you, I've been told that this is a privilege they've accorded you. You could show some appreciation and give me the information."
Snape had the audacity to laugh at Hermione's last statement. To her surprise, he leaned into her, or at least she thought he would have done so, if he weren't restrained from head to toe.
"You aren't listening."
"Stop repeating yourself."
Snape looked at her, his eyes alight with intelligence. His mouth twitched and his eyes darted to the wall and around the room. "Look around, Miss Granger, everyone is listening."
"So?" she spoke, fighting to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "I'm not asking for any state secrets. I just want to know certain things. You owe the Order, the people you betrayed, the reasons why, an explanation for your actions."
"Again, you aren't asking the correct questions."
"Snape,"
"What you ask isn't for you to know. Not for me to tell. You" at this, the Snape sneer seemed to return, albeit rather muted, "you deserve nothing."
At that, Hermione lost patience with Snape, "What do you mean by that? If anything, you owe us. You're the betrayer. You're imprisoned. The very least you could do is try to prevent someone else from making the same errors you've made. You seem to have made a cock-up of your entire life. Wouldn't you like to stop others from doing so?"
"You keep saying that. In actuality, you owe me. Everyone here owes me. I'm the keeper."
"The keeper of what?"
Now she was absolutely confused, "isn't that the position you played in Quidditch? What does that have to do with any of this? If you're talking about information, then your refusal to answer my questions is pointless. From what I understand, you're never getting out of here. In fact, it would seem to me that everyone has gone to considerable trouble to ensure that you will die in here."
Snape stared at Hermione, the silence stretched before them, as he pondered his response. Snape attention left her to a movement behind her as the door opened and the guards entered the room. She turned to face the guards, annoyed at their intrusion.
"I thought you told me I could talk to him," she snapped at the men.
"Not for an indefinite period, Miss Granger," the head guard apologized. "I'm afraid the prisoner must be returned to his cell. It will be dinner time soon, and he needs to be returned."
"Ahh, they must be fed."
"Who?" said Hermione, trying to follow the conversation, Snape, it seemed, was incapable of normal conversation. "Please," she said, addressing the guards, "let me have some more time. He hasn't been at all cooperative, and I really need to get this information out of him."
The guards conferred with one another, after what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, they agreed to her request. Once again, she and Snape faced off against one another.
"How do you propose to do that, Miss Granger? You seem unable to listen to me," Snape replied.
At this, Hermione finally snapped, "all I've done is listen to your nonsense. You haven't given me a straight answer all afternoon. What do you expect me to do? Sit here while you dance around my questions?"
"But Miss Granger, I am unable to dance at the moment," reminding her about the restraints that bound him. "You, on the other hand, are the one doing the dancing. I am unfamiliar with the steps, fortunately."
Hermione looked at the obviously deranged man before her, belatedly realizing that during her last statement, she'd stood up. Snape, it seemed was still capable of driving her insane. She sat down and tried to gather herself, one of them had to keep the conversation on a sane track.
"Do you like potions?"
"Pardon?" Hermione fought to keep the astonishment from her face. Of course she liked potions, she'd only despised the teacher.
"Potions. They're beautiful. Finite. Infinite. Purity." Snape replied, closing his eyes as he spoke the words. Hermione wondered what he was seeing.
"I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?" she asked.
"You have to find the questions."
Hermione sighed, they had returned to this nonsense. "Well, where do I look?"
Snape smiled at her, his eyes still closed, he remained like that until the guards finally brought the session to an end. Hermione watched as Snape was taken away, she was no closer to the answers she sought. Her only thought was to petition to get Snape out of Azkaban and perhaps into the locked ward at St. Mungo's, maybe with a little medication, Snape might be brought up to something close to coherency.
*****
The day after her visit with Snape, Hermione sought out Professor McGonagall. Perhaps she'd have some insight into Snape's bizarre statements. Hermione cursed herself once she'd returned home, although she's written down their conversation as soon as possible, she was certain she'd forgotten a few salient points. Ron and Harry's teasing to the contrary, she didn't have a photographic memory. The conversation with Snape had meandered in so many directions, she'd gotten lost at some point.
Hermione walked into the Cozy Willow Room, the best tearoom in all of Hogsmeade, in fact probably in all of England. No matter where she'd gone with her parents, she'd never found a place to equal the CWR when it came to High Tea. She found her former professor eating scones as if there were no tomorrow. Hermione seated herself with a smile, rescued the last scone and formulated her questions.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Professor," Hermione began-
"Please, dear, I've told you many times, call me Minerva," interrupted McGonagall.
Hermione blushed at the gentle rebuke, "I know, but, well, it's been hard to think of you as anything other than my professor."
"I know," McGonagall said, patting Hermione on the hand, "but I do believe we're colleagues now, or at the very least, friends. Friends are generally on a first name basis."
"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione replied, stumbling just a bit on the name. "I really had a purpose other than a social call."
"You really should relax more, Hermione," Minerva replied. "One can never focus on business all the time. Your friends, Harry in particular have learned how to enjoy life. Although to Harry's credit, that sometimes gets him in more trouble than he used to get in while at school," Minerva stated, sipping serenely at her cup of tea.
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't accompany us to the Quidditch match last week," stated Minerva.
Hermione thought back to whatever it was Minerva was talking about, remembering at last, Harry's match. "Well, no. I had some reading to catch up on," she replied, trying to avoid the fact that she'd completely forgotten about the match. Hermione cast her mind to her flat and saw the ticket sitting on her dresser, if she'd known she wouldn't have gone, she'd have sold the ticket. It, like all of the matches Harry played in, had been completely sold out.
"Honestly, Hermione, I thought you'd learnt how to relax some. You seem to have returned to all your workaholic patterns. You seemed much more relaxed earlier this year. Harry, on the other hand, might serve with a little of your dedication. Honestly, sometimes that boy will be the death of me," Minerva smiled while sipping her tea at her last words.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, signaling to the matron for some more scones. While she'd been distracted by the conversation, Minerva had stolen her remaining half a scone.
"Harry spent most of the match mooning over the opposing Seeker, when she caught the snitch, he actually applauded. I understand that our Mr. Potter has been put on notice in regards to his behavior," Minerva replied, nibbling on one of the fresh scones.
Hermione quickly grabbed a scone and placed it far away from her former Head, "I actually had a purpose for seeing you here today."
"I know, dear. I'm not without my resources. I understand you visited Severus yesterday."
Hermione almost dropped her scone in her lap, "I wasn't aware that my actions were monitored."
"Of course they aren't," Minerva placated Hermione, reaching over and patting her hand, "Albus does tend to keep me informed on the whereabouts of my best student. Besides, you had spoken about it previously."
"Yes," Hermione conceded, "it was a fairly useless visit."
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked. "Do you want the last scone?"
"What? No, go ahead," said Hermione, gesturing to the plate between them. "To get back to the subject, do you think it might be possible to get Snape transferred to St. Mungo's?"
"Why on earth would you want to do that?"
"Because the man is deranged. I couldn't get a straight answer out of him the entire time. Our conversation was one bizarre circle after another, quite frankly he made no sense."
"What did he say?" Minerva asked.
"Well, that's another problem. I tried to write down everything that he said, but I know I forgot some of it. It was difficult to follow his train of thought, it barely made sense, the primary thing I remember, was that he kept repeating to me that I wasn't asking the correct questions," Hermione stated.
"Questions about what?"
"That's my point!" Hermione yelled, quieting as she saw the other occupants of the room turn their attention to the pair of women. "He wouldn't tell me," she continued in a quieter tone. "I just wish I had an exact record, maybe, with some distance I could figure out what he was talking about."
"Actually, I have something that could be of assistance for you," said Minerva, as she reached into her handbag. She removed what looked to be a remembrall and handed it to Hermione. "Albus thought you might need some assistance, so he contacted the wardens and they made you a copy of your visit to Azkaban."
Hermione looked at the ball in her hand, "do you mean that this has our conversation?"
"Why, of course."
Hermione looked at Minerva in amazement, "how is it, that the Headmaster always seems to be five steps ahead of everyone else?"
"Well, he wouldn't be Albus Dumbledore if he weren't, would he?" Minerva replied, with a chuckle.
"What I really wanted to do, is try an get an idea of how to, at the very least, get control of the conversations with Snape. He was so cryptic and bizarre yesterday that I was at a loss. He used to be so precise," Hermione addressed to Minerva.
"Yes, well, Severus always savored control," replied Minerva. "Can I help in any other way?"
"Well, I know most of what you said was sealed, but could you give me an idea of why you gave evidence against Snape?" Hermione asked. "If I'm on the wrong track, perhaps I need to approach this from another angle."
"I can't tell you what it was that I said, unfortunately. I can, however, tell you why I said it," Minerva answered.
"Why?"
"Because, Severus betrayed us," Minerva said, her fierce gaze pierced the calm that surrounded Hermione and once again brought her to the reality of trying to understand Snape.
*****
That night, Hermione reclined on the sofa, drained from viewing the conversation. She'd broken down the conversation with Snape into parts. He'd been correct, she hadn't asked the right questions. What she should have said, what she would ask the next time she saw the man, was very simple, not why, but who. To whom were his actions directed towards and how did he do it. It came down to the mechanisms of his actions, that of the others and finally, the results thereof. Snape was a creation, he'd been wearing a mask in the room, as surely as the mask he'd worn while she'd attended Hogwarts.
The answer was in who asked him to don the masks, both then and now.
Hermione looked again at the ball in her hand, that glowed ever so softly, 'he's always five steps ahead of everyone.' Her head fell backwards and she looked out onto the stars. She fell asleep to the rhythm of hands stirring a cauldron. Potions they were, simplicity, complexity, but always a formula, something created by man.
By one man in particular.
*****
TBC-
A/N I promise, back online and updates coming weekly. isn't cryptic, tortured Snape a fun guy?
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Fugue State Part 11
*****
Hermione arrived home, more confused than ever. Her last meeting with the Headmaster had done nothing to alleviate her concerns. As usual, Dumbledore was annoyingly enigmatic and cryptic. She should have been relieved, but settled on eating the dinner and trying to keep up with the conversation, all the while cursing omnipotent Headmasters. She was still grumbling two days later as she walked into a room, sat down waiting for the jailers to bring Snape up from the depths of Azkaban.
She thought she was prepared, she'd seen the state of Snape at the trial, she'd been at the Final Battle, and thought nothing would ever shock her again. Seeing a battlefield and widespread death and destruction cured her of any reactions to the horrors of the world. But they weren't in the world. Here, she sat in a small, confined room staring across at a shell of a man. What had once been one of the most feared figures in the Wizarding World, Hermione knew he'd terrorized countless students, now was, well, nothing.
He sat, staring blankly at her. For all she knew, he didn't even recognize her. She certainly had no clue what to say. They sat there in silence, Hermione fighting to keep from squirming in her chair, before she let out a sigh, this was hopeless, Snape looked worse, impossibly enough, than he'd been at the trial. Not to mention, she thought, crinkling her nose, smelt a little rank. Obviously, they'd cleaned him up a bit, but it probably would take more than a shower to get the stink out of him. She looked at his head, in relief this time, it would probably be worse if he still had hair. Unfortunately, the shorn head did nothing to enhance his looks. Then again, the prison outfit wasn't the most flattering. Snape never could have been called anything close to handsome, now he looked downright pathetic. To make matters worse, all he'd done since he'd been brought in was stare at her. She could be a wall for all the reaction she was getting from the man. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, she had no idea how to get him out of the catatonic state he looked to be in. She started at the movement before her, Snape blinked, it was the first sign of life that she'd seen from the man.
"Professor?" Nothing, she tried again. "Professor Snape?" Now they were getting somewhere. Snape actually looked at her, seemingly aware that a live person was before him. Hermione plunged ahead, "Professor, I guess you're wondering the reasons as to why I'm here. I wanted to discuss with you your actions right before the Final Battle. I also wanted to get some information about you. You seem to be the only person in the world without any records. I want to know why," Hermione spoke, the words rushing out of her. She felt as though she had to speak quickly, before Snape fell once again into non-awareness of the world around him.
Snape, to her annoyance, didn't say anything. Hermione tried another tack. "Professor, can you understand me? I know you've been ill, but Professor Dumbledore informed me that he'd spoken to you on some prior occasions. I'd hoped you give me the courtesy of speaking to me in regards to my questions, I believe you owe me as much," at that, Snape reacted.
"I'm not," the hoarse voice filled the room.
"Not what?" Hermione queried.
"Professor."
Hermione felt at a loss at Snape's response, "Well, what do I call you?"
Snape, it seemed, had said all he would say in the matter and lapsed back into silence. Hermione leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table, trying to get as close to the man across from her. She hoped that the increased proximity would aid in communication with the laconic man.
"Would you rather I call you Severus?"
At that, Snape almost seemed to smile. He closed his eyes, and Hermione feared that he'd lapsed into that somnolent state he'd been in before. She waited, starting at the voice that came from the man.
"No."
"Then what?" Hermione was definitely annoyed, she'd never get anywhere if Snape were incapable of anything other than monosyllabic answers. She fought to keep from shaking him, of course, the barrier between them forbade any physical contact, but she continued. "Snape, do you even know who I am?"
Once again, Snape's only response was to blink at her, she never thought she would miss the sneer, but she thought the blink was a thousand fold more annoying. "Snape," she tried again, her voice rising, "we'll get nowhere if you can't continue the conversation."
"Where are we going?"
Wonderful, thought Hermione, not only was Snape out there, he'd now become absolutely cryptic. "We're trying to have a conversation. I'm attempting to get information out of you."
"About?"
Hermione wished they hadn't taken her wand, with it she could summon cue cards to assist Snape. He obviously was incapable of maintaining a coherent train of thought. "I told you."
"Listen."
"To what?"
"Everyone."
"Pardon? Look, Snape, I came here for answers. You owe me that."
"Everyone knows."
"No one knows anything. That's why I'm here, don't you understand? I want you to explain," Hermione stated, bringing her hand down on the table with a bang. She flinched at the sound her palm made in the room, it echoed throughout.
"What?"
"Snape," Hermione snapped, "you're here. You committed treason. You've been tried and convicted as a Death Eater. You betrayed the most respected man in the world and now you sit here spouting nonsense. I came here for answers."
"You haven't asked the questions."
"Snape," Hermione said, fighting to keep from screaming in frustration, "all I've done is ask you questions, you haven't answered a thing."
"Not the right questions."
Hermione considered the man before her. He hadn't altered his expression, his face remained blank, voice hoarse and cracked, perhaps from nonuse. Hermione tried not to think of the alternative, that he'd damaged it from screaming. There'd been nights when Sirius had tried to take their minds off the coming battle. Unfortunately, Sirius' method had been to talk about things that were more horrifying than waiting to go into combat, it turned out that being in prison was fairly horrifying. Hermione's attention returned to the man before her.
"Then what do you want me ask?" she said, returning to the conversation at hand.
"You have to listen."
Hermione looked around for something to throw at the man before her. Unfortunately, the room was completely bare. "Snape, you aren't making any sense. I went to considerable trouble to visit you, I've been told that this is a privilege they've accorded you. You could show some appreciation and give me the information."
Snape had the audacity to laugh at Hermione's last statement. To her surprise, he leaned into her, or at least she thought he would have done so, if he weren't restrained from head to toe.
"You aren't listening."
"Stop repeating yourself."
Snape looked at her, his eyes alight with intelligence. His mouth twitched and his eyes darted to the wall and around the room. "Look around, Miss Granger, everyone is listening."
"So?" she spoke, fighting to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "I'm not asking for any state secrets. I just want to know certain things. You owe the Order, the people you betrayed, the reasons why, an explanation for your actions."
"Again, you aren't asking the correct questions."
"Snape,"
"What you ask isn't for you to know. Not for me to tell. You" at this, the Snape sneer seemed to return, albeit rather muted, "you deserve nothing."
At that, Hermione lost patience with Snape, "What do you mean by that? If anything, you owe us. You're the betrayer. You're imprisoned. The very least you could do is try to prevent someone else from making the same errors you've made. You seem to have made a cock-up of your entire life. Wouldn't you like to stop others from doing so?"
"You keep saying that. In actuality, you owe me. Everyone here owes me. I'm the keeper."
"The keeper of what?"
Now she was absolutely confused, "isn't that the position you played in Quidditch? What does that have to do with any of this? If you're talking about information, then your refusal to answer my questions is pointless. From what I understand, you're never getting out of here. In fact, it would seem to me that everyone has gone to considerable trouble to ensure that you will die in here."
Snape stared at Hermione, the silence stretched before them, as he pondered his response. Snape attention left her to a movement behind her as the door opened and the guards entered the room. She turned to face the guards, annoyed at their intrusion.
"I thought you told me I could talk to him," she snapped at the men.
"Not for an indefinite period, Miss Granger," the head guard apologized. "I'm afraid the prisoner must be returned to his cell. It will be dinner time soon, and he needs to be returned."
"Ahh, they must be fed."
"Who?" said Hermione, trying to follow the conversation, Snape, it seemed, was incapable of normal conversation. "Please," she said, addressing the guards, "let me have some more time. He hasn't been at all cooperative, and I really need to get this information out of him."
The guards conferred with one another, after what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, they agreed to her request. Once again, she and Snape faced off against one another.
"How do you propose to do that, Miss Granger? You seem unable to listen to me," Snape replied.
At this, Hermione finally snapped, "all I've done is listen to your nonsense. You haven't given me a straight answer all afternoon. What do you expect me to do? Sit here while you dance around my questions?"
"But Miss Granger, I am unable to dance at the moment," reminding her about the restraints that bound him. "You, on the other hand, are the one doing the dancing. I am unfamiliar with the steps, fortunately."
Hermione looked at the obviously deranged man before her, belatedly realizing that during her last statement, she'd stood up. Snape, it seemed was still capable of driving her insane. She sat down and tried to gather herself, one of them had to keep the conversation on a sane track.
"Do you like potions?"
"Pardon?" Hermione fought to keep the astonishment from her face. Of course she liked potions, she'd only despised the teacher.
"Potions. They're beautiful. Finite. Infinite. Purity." Snape replied, closing his eyes as he spoke the words. Hermione wondered what he was seeing.
"I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?" she asked.
"You have to find the questions."
Hermione sighed, they had returned to this nonsense. "Well, where do I look?"
Snape smiled at her, his eyes still closed, he remained like that until the guards finally brought the session to an end. Hermione watched as Snape was taken away, she was no closer to the answers she sought. Her only thought was to petition to get Snape out of Azkaban and perhaps into the locked ward at St. Mungo's, maybe with a little medication, Snape might be brought up to something close to coherency.
*****
The day after her visit with Snape, Hermione sought out Professor McGonagall. Perhaps she'd have some insight into Snape's bizarre statements. Hermione cursed herself once she'd returned home, although she's written down their conversation as soon as possible, she was certain she'd forgotten a few salient points. Ron and Harry's teasing to the contrary, she didn't have a photographic memory. The conversation with Snape had meandered in so many directions, she'd gotten lost at some point.
Hermione walked into the Cozy Willow Room, the best tearoom in all of Hogsmeade, in fact probably in all of England. No matter where she'd gone with her parents, she'd never found a place to equal the CWR when it came to High Tea. She found her former professor eating scones as if there were no tomorrow. Hermione seated herself with a smile, rescued the last scone and formulated her questions.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Professor," Hermione began-
"Please, dear, I've told you many times, call me Minerva," interrupted McGonagall.
Hermione blushed at the gentle rebuke, "I know, but, well, it's been hard to think of you as anything other than my professor."
"I know," McGonagall said, patting Hermione on the hand, "but I do believe we're colleagues now, or at the very least, friends. Friends are generally on a first name basis."
"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione replied, stumbling just a bit on the name. "I really had a purpose other than a social call."
"You really should relax more, Hermione," Minerva replied. "One can never focus on business all the time. Your friends, Harry in particular have learned how to enjoy life. Although to Harry's credit, that sometimes gets him in more trouble than he used to get in while at school," Minerva stated, sipping serenely at her cup of tea.
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't accompany us to the Quidditch match last week," stated Minerva.
Hermione thought back to whatever it was Minerva was talking about, remembering at last, Harry's match. "Well, no. I had some reading to catch up on," she replied, trying to avoid the fact that she'd completely forgotten about the match. Hermione cast her mind to her flat and saw the ticket sitting on her dresser, if she'd known she wouldn't have gone, she'd have sold the ticket. It, like all of the matches Harry played in, had been completely sold out.
"Honestly, Hermione, I thought you'd learnt how to relax some. You seem to have returned to all your workaholic patterns. You seemed much more relaxed earlier this year. Harry, on the other hand, might serve with a little of your dedication. Honestly, sometimes that boy will be the death of me," Minerva smiled while sipping her tea at her last words.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, signaling to the matron for some more scones. While she'd been distracted by the conversation, Minerva had stolen her remaining half a scone.
"Harry spent most of the match mooning over the opposing Seeker, when she caught the snitch, he actually applauded. I understand that our Mr. Potter has been put on notice in regards to his behavior," Minerva replied, nibbling on one of the fresh scones.
Hermione quickly grabbed a scone and placed it far away from her former Head, "I actually had a purpose for seeing you here today."
"I know, dear. I'm not without my resources. I understand you visited Severus yesterday."
Hermione almost dropped her scone in her lap, "I wasn't aware that my actions were monitored."
"Of course they aren't," Minerva placated Hermione, reaching over and patting her hand, "Albus does tend to keep me informed on the whereabouts of my best student. Besides, you had spoken about it previously."
"Yes," Hermione conceded, "it was a fairly useless visit."
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked. "Do you want the last scone?"
"What? No, go ahead," said Hermione, gesturing to the plate between them. "To get back to the subject, do you think it might be possible to get Snape transferred to St. Mungo's?"
"Why on earth would you want to do that?"
"Because the man is deranged. I couldn't get a straight answer out of him the entire time. Our conversation was one bizarre circle after another, quite frankly he made no sense."
"What did he say?" Minerva asked.
"Well, that's another problem. I tried to write down everything that he said, but I know I forgot some of it. It was difficult to follow his train of thought, it barely made sense, the primary thing I remember, was that he kept repeating to me that I wasn't asking the correct questions," Hermione stated.
"Questions about what?"
"That's my point!" Hermione yelled, quieting as she saw the other occupants of the room turn their attention to the pair of women. "He wouldn't tell me," she continued in a quieter tone. "I just wish I had an exact record, maybe, with some distance I could figure out what he was talking about."
"Actually, I have something that could be of assistance for you," said Minerva, as she reached into her handbag. She removed what looked to be a remembrall and handed it to Hermione. "Albus thought you might need some assistance, so he contacted the wardens and they made you a copy of your visit to Azkaban."
Hermione looked at the ball in her hand, "do you mean that this has our conversation?"
"Why, of course."
Hermione looked at Minerva in amazement, "how is it, that the Headmaster always seems to be five steps ahead of everyone else?"
"Well, he wouldn't be Albus Dumbledore if he weren't, would he?" Minerva replied, with a chuckle.
"What I really wanted to do, is try an get an idea of how to, at the very least, get control of the conversations with Snape. He was so cryptic and bizarre yesterday that I was at a loss. He used to be so precise," Hermione addressed to Minerva.
"Yes, well, Severus always savored control," replied Minerva. "Can I help in any other way?"
"Well, I know most of what you said was sealed, but could you give me an idea of why you gave evidence against Snape?" Hermione asked. "If I'm on the wrong track, perhaps I need to approach this from another angle."
"I can't tell you what it was that I said, unfortunately. I can, however, tell you why I said it," Minerva answered.
"Why?"
"Because, Severus betrayed us," Minerva said, her fierce gaze pierced the calm that surrounded Hermione and once again brought her to the reality of trying to understand Snape.
*****
That night, Hermione reclined on the sofa, drained from viewing the conversation. She'd broken down the conversation with Snape into parts. He'd been correct, she hadn't asked the right questions. What she should have said, what she would ask the next time she saw the man, was very simple, not why, but who. To whom were his actions directed towards and how did he do it. It came down to the mechanisms of his actions, that of the others and finally, the results thereof. Snape was a creation, he'd been wearing a mask in the room, as surely as the mask he'd worn while she'd attended Hogwarts.
The answer was in who asked him to don the masks, both then and now.
Hermione looked again at the ball in her hand, that glowed ever so softly, 'he's always five steps ahead of everyone.' Her head fell backwards and she looked out onto the stars. She fell asleep to the rhythm of hands stirring a cauldron. Potions they were, simplicity, complexity, but always a formula, something created by man.
By one man in particular.
*****
TBC-
A/N I promise, back online and updates coming weekly. isn't cryptic, tortured Snape a fun guy?