One Young Heart
Chapter 7: Rain
On a afternoon several weeks later, Hermione stuck her head into the Potions classroom. When no one answered he query of "Professor? are you there?" She left a stack of graded papers on his desk and went to find Ron, pleased by the extra time off. It was rare that Snape wasn't there, but she had learned not to wait for him. He came punctually, or not at all. Out side, it started to rain.
---
One Hundred miles away, in a forest perched precariously on the side of a mountain, it was absolutely pouring. A dozen Death Eaters, Snape among them, were pulling, carrying, and generally forcing a group of muggles through the night. Snape slipped a necklace around the neck of one of them, then let the muggle fall behind as he disappeared into the portkey. It was the sixth, and last, muggle he could help this way. Grabbing one of the twenty that were left, he dragged harshly on his arm. A flash of lightning at this point revealed the imposing figure of the Dark Lord, standing tall in the exact center of the clearing. The tall, thin man was the only sight clearly visible to the terrified muggles, illuminated by a triangle of flames that burned around him. Other Death Eaters sulked in the shadows, backs curved, eyes cold, watching them. Most of the Muggles were too confused to understand what was going on, but one, a squib, burst into sobs and tired to fling herself back out of the clearing.
Oh, dash it all, thought Snape, as he and Rosier caught the woman and threw her back. Why did I have to miss the bloody Squib?
Voldemort surveyed the Muggles. "Only twenty? My, my I think some of you could learn a lesson in efficiency. Nothing serious, just a reminder to start things off properly. Let's see, Rosier, McNair, you, and you. Anyone else, do you think, Bellatrix?" Smirking at his mocking expression she said "Snape. He's always fun."
He should have seen that coming. Bellatrix really preferred men who married her daughter, as opposed to those that ran the other way. The fact that the girl had entered into six marriages during the Dark Lord's rise alone didn't seem to bother her much. But it took a lot to anger Bellatrix. For example, teaching a boy who used Voldemort's name and not trying to kill him was an excellent way to irritate her. Well, it couldn't be helped now.
---
It was sunday morning before he got back to his rooms. He had intended to jump straight into the bathtub to rinse himself of the Squib's blood, but halfway down the stairs his legs gave out, and he staggered woozily into his workroom and fell into a table replete with vials of Wolfsbane potion, sending ot flying into a cabinet. By the time the sky had ceased to rain glass shards, Severus was covered in more than the woman's blood. There's that famous Snape family luck again, he thought irritably. The one place I fall is filled with caustic goo. And unless I'm mistaken, that's my lesson plan covered in it. Yeah Severus. Fifteen points, for that one. Zaire leapt into the room, and her feline howls drove the sarcastic humor that was his last attempt to preserve sanity right out of his head. Having extricated herself from the potion before it managed to eat through her paws, she gave her owner a look clearly intended to communicate her opinion of him and what he was doing to the floor.
Zaire had been Voldemort's cat, left behind on his disappearance, and, as Snape had no need to conceal his ties to the Dark Lord and his affection for cats, he had taken her to the school. Unfortunately, Zaire was more of a little hellion than a normal cat. Upon arrival, she had seized control of his rooms, and tried to evict him. Three years later they had reached an uneasy peace, and she guarded his rooms from all unfriendly intrusions in return for food. Nonetheless, she had retained a deep sense of propriety, and took any damage to her adopted kingdom badly. None of this would have mattered at all to Severus, of course, except that the cat was now on the mantelpiece over the workroom fire, propelling pictures, books and a bottle of the powder that allowed inter-fire conversations down onto his head.
Staggering upwards, Severus took a completely off-target swipe at the cat, knocked down a clock, looked in the mirror, and sat down again, hard. The shattered clock stared up at him, reminding him wordlessly of a staff meeting in three hours. He watched the clock for half an hour before, made uncoordinated by the pain of torture supplemented by glass shards, picture frames and acid, he tossed a handful of the fallen powder into the fireplace, and gasped "Miss...Hermione...Granger".
---
Hermione had been sitting by Ron for the past three hours. Unexpectedly, he had come up to her, and asked to talk to her, before sitting down and sobbing out "Hermione, why does Harry hate me so much?" Hermione had been sitting next to him ever since, trying to convince him Harry was just emotional. "No, its different, he won't talk to me, and he made a dig at me about my way with girls yesterday." His voice was suddenly hard "Like he's so good with that stuff himself" Before she could convince him tat Harry was upset about Ron's isolation, and his inability to divine the cause, they discussed his money, the prefectship, Fred and George, Voldemort, and the summer. "He's just upset that you won't talk to him, Ron, he just wants to know what you're going to do, what you are doing now." Her curiosity overcame her, and she asked "What are you doing now?" Ron stared at her, and then mumbled "I'm studying magical theory. The classes are obscure. You have to get very good O.W.L.S." Seeing her curiosity, he whispered, sounding almost desperate, "Hermione, you don't know what it was like to touch all that knowledge in the Department of Mysteries. I have to learn more; I have to experience more; I have to know what that feels like again. I can't explain that to Harry; Harry could never understand that. He finds a place, and he works until he fits in it. He could never understand the idea of never fitting anywhere again." Silence stretched between them; but in that moment, Hermione understood that he had always been brilliant and determined, however little he might want to admit it.
Before she could respond, Snape's voice rasped from the fireplace. "Miss Granger, I wonder if I could borrow your services for a moment." a pause. "it would seem that," he continued, in a voice that barely concealed his pain, "I was wrong."
Chapter 7: Rain
On a afternoon several weeks later, Hermione stuck her head into the Potions classroom. When no one answered he query of "Professor? are you there?" She left a stack of graded papers on his desk and went to find Ron, pleased by the extra time off. It was rare that Snape wasn't there, but she had learned not to wait for him. He came punctually, or not at all. Out side, it started to rain.
---
One Hundred miles away, in a forest perched precariously on the side of a mountain, it was absolutely pouring. A dozen Death Eaters, Snape among them, were pulling, carrying, and generally forcing a group of muggles through the night. Snape slipped a necklace around the neck of one of them, then let the muggle fall behind as he disappeared into the portkey. It was the sixth, and last, muggle he could help this way. Grabbing one of the twenty that were left, he dragged harshly on his arm. A flash of lightning at this point revealed the imposing figure of the Dark Lord, standing tall in the exact center of the clearing. The tall, thin man was the only sight clearly visible to the terrified muggles, illuminated by a triangle of flames that burned around him. Other Death Eaters sulked in the shadows, backs curved, eyes cold, watching them. Most of the Muggles were too confused to understand what was going on, but one, a squib, burst into sobs and tired to fling herself back out of the clearing.
Oh, dash it all, thought Snape, as he and Rosier caught the woman and threw her back. Why did I have to miss the bloody Squib?
Voldemort surveyed the Muggles. "Only twenty? My, my I think some of you could learn a lesson in efficiency. Nothing serious, just a reminder to start things off properly. Let's see, Rosier, McNair, you, and you. Anyone else, do you think, Bellatrix?" Smirking at his mocking expression she said "Snape. He's always fun."
He should have seen that coming. Bellatrix really preferred men who married her daughter, as opposed to those that ran the other way. The fact that the girl had entered into six marriages during the Dark Lord's rise alone didn't seem to bother her much. But it took a lot to anger Bellatrix. For example, teaching a boy who used Voldemort's name and not trying to kill him was an excellent way to irritate her. Well, it couldn't be helped now.
---
It was sunday morning before he got back to his rooms. He had intended to jump straight into the bathtub to rinse himself of the Squib's blood, but halfway down the stairs his legs gave out, and he staggered woozily into his workroom and fell into a table replete with vials of Wolfsbane potion, sending ot flying into a cabinet. By the time the sky had ceased to rain glass shards, Severus was covered in more than the woman's blood. There's that famous Snape family luck again, he thought irritably. The one place I fall is filled with caustic goo. And unless I'm mistaken, that's my lesson plan covered in it. Yeah Severus. Fifteen points, for that one. Zaire leapt into the room, and her feline howls drove the sarcastic humor that was his last attempt to preserve sanity right out of his head. Having extricated herself from the potion before it managed to eat through her paws, she gave her owner a look clearly intended to communicate her opinion of him and what he was doing to the floor.
Zaire had been Voldemort's cat, left behind on his disappearance, and, as Snape had no need to conceal his ties to the Dark Lord and his affection for cats, he had taken her to the school. Unfortunately, Zaire was more of a little hellion than a normal cat. Upon arrival, she had seized control of his rooms, and tried to evict him. Three years later they had reached an uneasy peace, and she guarded his rooms from all unfriendly intrusions in return for food. Nonetheless, she had retained a deep sense of propriety, and took any damage to her adopted kingdom badly. None of this would have mattered at all to Severus, of course, except that the cat was now on the mantelpiece over the workroom fire, propelling pictures, books and a bottle of the powder that allowed inter-fire conversations down onto his head.
Staggering upwards, Severus took a completely off-target swipe at the cat, knocked down a clock, looked in the mirror, and sat down again, hard. The shattered clock stared up at him, reminding him wordlessly of a staff meeting in three hours. He watched the clock for half an hour before, made uncoordinated by the pain of torture supplemented by glass shards, picture frames and acid, he tossed a handful of the fallen powder into the fireplace, and gasped "Miss...Hermione...Granger".
---
Hermione had been sitting by Ron for the past three hours. Unexpectedly, he had come up to her, and asked to talk to her, before sitting down and sobbing out "Hermione, why does Harry hate me so much?" Hermione had been sitting next to him ever since, trying to convince him Harry was just emotional. "No, its different, he won't talk to me, and he made a dig at me about my way with girls yesterday." His voice was suddenly hard "Like he's so good with that stuff himself" Before she could convince him tat Harry was upset about Ron's isolation, and his inability to divine the cause, they discussed his money, the prefectship, Fred and George, Voldemort, and the summer. "He's just upset that you won't talk to him, Ron, he just wants to know what you're going to do, what you are doing now." Her curiosity overcame her, and she asked "What are you doing now?" Ron stared at her, and then mumbled "I'm studying magical theory. The classes are obscure. You have to get very good O.W.L.S." Seeing her curiosity, he whispered, sounding almost desperate, "Hermione, you don't know what it was like to touch all that knowledge in the Department of Mysteries. I have to learn more; I have to experience more; I have to know what that feels like again. I can't explain that to Harry; Harry could never understand that. He finds a place, and he works until he fits in it. He could never understand the idea of never fitting anywhere again." Silence stretched between them; but in that moment, Hermione understood that he had always been brilliant and determined, however little he might want to admit it.
Before she could respond, Snape's voice rasped from the fireplace. "Miss Granger, I wonder if I could borrow your services for a moment." a pause. "it would seem that," he continued, in a voice that barely concealed his pain, "I was wrong."