Three-
"Potter!"
The harsh voice came from, it seemed, out of nowhere, and Harry jumped, whipping his wand out and holding it steadily before him.
In one liquid movement a dark shadow from the wall detached itself and stood before Harry, wand also out. "What do you want, Snape?" Harry snarled, raising his wand inconspicuously higher.
"I believe I should be asking of you the same question. What happened this time, Potter? Did something not go your way again?"
Snape lowered his wand but his dark eyes never left Harry's face, "So foolish of you, to run from the only people that could protect you."
"I don't need to be protected." Harry spat, "Not by the Dursleys, not by the Weasleys, not by Dumbledore, and especially not by you."
"Congradulations, Mr. Potter," Snape hissed, "your arrogance has surpassed your father's. Are you ready to abandon this madness you pursue and face logic and reason?"
"This may seem like madness to someone like you," Harry responded, "but I can't go anywhere without hurting someone, so I have chosen solitude. Think about that, Snape, it's because of me that your precious pet, Malfoy, is still at Mungos regrowing his arm. It's my fault Ron broke his leg, that Hermione wound up almost dead, that Sirius died, that Mr. Weasley disappeared, that Neville was-"
Harry faltered as he found the words he intended to use tasted bitter. He looked up from the pavement to face Snape, and was startled to find that his potions master's pale countenance had gone even whiter.
"You take far too much credit for things out of your control." Snape almost shouted, advancing on Harry.
"You don't know how much I want to hurt you, Snape." Harry said in a low but clear voice. Snape froze, and began to raise his wand again.
"By escaping from the Durselys when I turned eleven I thought I was escaping hell, but you just had to make my life miserable since the first day I arrived. Your death would bring no regret to my conscience." Snape stepped back, his wand still raised, eyes watching Harry closely. Before the professor could even protect himself, Harry cried:
"Crucio totallus!"
A pain deeper than a knife, more lasting than shame, and both colder and hotter than imaginable wracked Snape's body as he collapsed to the ground and he heard an unearthly scream hiss from his own mouth.
A smile of satisfaction curled on Harry's lips as he walked away from the person he loathed so much.
.
"You two are the only ones he listens to," Dumbledore stated, reguarding Ron and Hermione with sad knowingness, "It isn't fair that I put this on you, it isn't fair what you have gone through and witnessed, but I ask you to confront him. He won't heed me, but you are his friends."
"He justs tells me I don't understand!" Hermione cried angrily, "I've tried so hard to make him see- so hard-" she broke off, breathing hard and wringing her hands.
"I guess I could try another go," Ron sighed, "but only if Hermione comes with me." "Ron, I can't-" Hermione began, but stopped, seeing his look of determination.
"Then go," Dumbledore urged, "if you wait too long it will be too late."
.
"I've never been this deep into Diagon Alley." Ron whispered, one hand gripping his wand and the other clasped in Hermione's cold and clenching hand.
Past the shops everyone visited the street became narrower and uneven flagstone kept the two alert.Many of the shops they passed were boarded up, and those that weren't were uninviting to say the least.
As Ron and Hermione continued the sound of screaming met their ears. Ron, wondering if Hermione's heart was beating as fast as his, dropped his hand from hers and walked cautiously closer.
"Who is it?" Hermione breathed, following his steps, "It couldn't be Harry, could it?"
At her words Ron abandoned reason and sprinted forward, lighting his wand as the cries of pain grew louder.
In the middle of the street was an agony-stricken form. His back arced off the ground and then all his limbs drew together as if to center the pain.
Hermione's footfalls stopped, and behind Ron he heard her voice, horrified yet strong, "Dies Incantatem!"
As the form stopped its writhing and the silence that followed was worse than his shrieks.
"Professor Snape!" Hermione exclaimed, dropping down next to him. His whole body raced with tremors and his closed lids fluttered to open. A soft hiss and a desperate inhale passed his lips and he went limp.
"I have to take him back," Hermione started, looking up at a very white faced Ron, "He'll die if I don't. You have to go on."
"By myself?" Ron demanded, aghast, with all signs of continuing to protest, but Hermione cut in before he had a chance, "You heard Dumbledore, it might be too late already. You've been his friend longer than I have. He's got to listen to you."
"Mobilicorpus," Hermione muttered, and Snape slowly rose from the ground.
"Go, Ron, you have to." She pleaded. Ron finally nodded, and trudged on down the road. When Hermione's footsteps faded to silence he looked around uneasily.
"Harry?" He called into the dark, "Harry, can we talk?"
.
The next day Hermione sat on one of the barstools at the Leaky Cauldren with Ginny on the other side of the counter. Both had teacups before them, yet neither girl had so much as sipped the tea.
"Harry wouldn't hurt Ron." Ginny said, as if trying to assure herself.
"He might not even have found him yet," Hermione added, hating how her anxiety dominated her voice.
A wizard entered the inn and called an order to Ginny. Automatonically the redhead caught one of the mugs hanging above head and filled it with firewhisky. She handed it to the man, collected the change, and then beat her head on the counter.
Hermione seized her by either side of the head to prevent further banging, "Don't make matters worse."
"Worse?!" Ginny yelled, "Killing myself couldn't make matters worse!"
"Don't say that," Hermione whispered, picking up her teacup and holding it close to her mouth. She looked contemplatively in the dark liquid, and then set it back down on its saucer.
As she did so Mrs. Weasley descended down the stairs, and asked, "How is the professor?"
"At Mungo's." Ginny replied flatly, staring at the wall.
"They said if I'd brought him any later he would have surely died." Hermione supplied, "But they have their best healers for him, so now all we can do is wait."
Mrs. Weasley nodded, passing a hand over her forehead, and joined the two.
"When did Albus leave?"
"Last night," Ginny said, "after you two went to bed."
"How late were you up last night?" Hermione asked, shocked. She herself had gone to bed at three in the morning after Ginny promised she would be up shortly.
"I never went upstairs." Ginny mumbled, hastily rubbing the counter with a rag.
"You shouldn't have!" Mrs. Weasley almost cried. Ginny, now bright red, answered, "I know, but we need the money, and Tom said he'd pay me double if I worked through the night."
Mrs. Weasley closed her eyes and buried her head in her hands, "What have we become?"
Ginny, blinking rapidly and biting her lip, rested a hand on her mother's shaking back, and looked hopelessly at Hermione.
Barely able to contain her grief, Hermione drained her lukewarm tea and left the Leaky Cauldren.
.
"How is he?" Hermione asked, peering past Healer Augustus Pye to the bed where Snape lay.
Augustus smiled, "Much better, but he was hit with a very strong Cruciatus curse, so it could be awhile before he recovers even enough to sit up."
"But he will make it?" Hermione persisted, looking into the young healer's eyes.
"Most assuredly, Miss Granger," he promised, "but I must ask: do you know who cursed him?"
"Why?" Hermione asked defensively. Augustus looked taken aback at her definiteness, and merely shrugged, "It was a very powerful wizard who could have hurt Severus Snape so badly. The patient has the mark-"
"He's a reformed Death Eater." Hermione began, but Augustus nodded, "I know that, but I was just thinking that it could have been You-Know-Who himself who did this to him."
Hermione didn't reply, but brushed past the healer and sat down by the bed. Sadly, she noticed the obvious lack of any flowers or cards.
"Pathetic, isn't it?" Augustus mentioned, "I remember him from Hogwarts; maybe if he wasn't so positively loathsome he might have some well-wishers."
Hermione nodded, and Augustus pulled a chair up next to hers, and continued, "I've read about your friend in the papers. It must be really difficult to cope with so much all the time."
"It is." Hermione agreed softly, drawing her eyes from Snape to Augustus. Augustus's face tinged red, and he finished, "If you ever need someone- even just to have listen to you- I'd be honored if you came to me."
Smiling for the first time in days, Hermione gave a nod, "Thank you. I really should get back, though."
Augustus leapt out of the chair, unnessessarily helped her stand, and escorted her out of the room. As Hermione walked down the hallway, she glanced back and saw the healer still watching her leave. Waving her hand and smiling again, she turned the corner, and headed down the stairs. When she entered the lobby she found there to be a large commotion in the doorway. A few healers, one she recognized to be Healer Smethwyck, crowded around a floating stretcher.
A head of familiar silver hair bobbed among the healers, and Hermione called out, "Dumbledore!"
The headmaster turned to see her, and his face, already grave, turned a shade sadder. He gestured her over.
Now nervous, Hermione gingerly met with him, and looked at the patient whom the healers were attending to.
"Ron!" She screamed. Her legs buckled and the world went black.
"Potter!"
The harsh voice came from, it seemed, out of nowhere, and Harry jumped, whipping his wand out and holding it steadily before him.
In one liquid movement a dark shadow from the wall detached itself and stood before Harry, wand also out. "What do you want, Snape?" Harry snarled, raising his wand inconspicuously higher.
"I believe I should be asking of you the same question. What happened this time, Potter? Did something not go your way again?"
Snape lowered his wand but his dark eyes never left Harry's face, "So foolish of you, to run from the only people that could protect you."
"I don't need to be protected." Harry spat, "Not by the Dursleys, not by the Weasleys, not by Dumbledore, and especially not by you."
"Congradulations, Mr. Potter," Snape hissed, "your arrogance has surpassed your father's. Are you ready to abandon this madness you pursue and face logic and reason?"
"This may seem like madness to someone like you," Harry responded, "but I can't go anywhere without hurting someone, so I have chosen solitude. Think about that, Snape, it's because of me that your precious pet, Malfoy, is still at Mungos regrowing his arm. It's my fault Ron broke his leg, that Hermione wound up almost dead, that Sirius died, that Mr. Weasley disappeared, that Neville was-"
Harry faltered as he found the words he intended to use tasted bitter. He looked up from the pavement to face Snape, and was startled to find that his potions master's pale countenance had gone even whiter.
"You take far too much credit for things out of your control." Snape almost shouted, advancing on Harry.
"You don't know how much I want to hurt you, Snape." Harry said in a low but clear voice. Snape froze, and began to raise his wand again.
"By escaping from the Durselys when I turned eleven I thought I was escaping hell, but you just had to make my life miserable since the first day I arrived. Your death would bring no regret to my conscience." Snape stepped back, his wand still raised, eyes watching Harry closely. Before the professor could even protect himself, Harry cried:
"Crucio totallus!"
A pain deeper than a knife, more lasting than shame, and both colder and hotter than imaginable wracked Snape's body as he collapsed to the ground and he heard an unearthly scream hiss from his own mouth.
A smile of satisfaction curled on Harry's lips as he walked away from the person he loathed so much.
.
"You two are the only ones he listens to," Dumbledore stated, reguarding Ron and Hermione with sad knowingness, "It isn't fair that I put this on you, it isn't fair what you have gone through and witnessed, but I ask you to confront him. He won't heed me, but you are his friends."
"He justs tells me I don't understand!" Hermione cried angrily, "I've tried so hard to make him see- so hard-" she broke off, breathing hard and wringing her hands.
"I guess I could try another go," Ron sighed, "but only if Hermione comes with me." "Ron, I can't-" Hermione began, but stopped, seeing his look of determination.
"Then go," Dumbledore urged, "if you wait too long it will be too late."
.
"I've never been this deep into Diagon Alley." Ron whispered, one hand gripping his wand and the other clasped in Hermione's cold and clenching hand.
Past the shops everyone visited the street became narrower and uneven flagstone kept the two alert.Many of the shops they passed were boarded up, and those that weren't were uninviting to say the least.
As Ron and Hermione continued the sound of screaming met their ears. Ron, wondering if Hermione's heart was beating as fast as his, dropped his hand from hers and walked cautiously closer.
"Who is it?" Hermione breathed, following his steps, "It couldn't be Harry, could it?"
At her words Ron abandoned reason and sprinted forward, lighting his wand as the cries of pain grew louder.
In the middle of the street was an agony-stricken form. His back arced off the ground and then all his limbs drew together as if to center the pain.
Hermione's footfalls stopped, and behind Ron he heard her voice, horrified yet strong, "Dies Incantatem!"
As the form stopped its writhing and the silence that followed was worse than his shrieks.
"Professor Snape!" Hermione exclaimed, dropping down next to him. His whole body raced with tremors and his closed lids fluttered to open. A soft hiss and a desperate inhale passed his lips and he went limp.
"I have to take him back," Hermione started, looking up at a very white faced Ron, "He'll die if I don't. You have to go on."
"By myself?" Ron demanded, aghast, with all signs of continuing to protest, but Hermione cut in before he had a chance, "You heard Dumbledore, it might be too late already. You've been his friend longer than I have. He's got to listen to you."
"Mobilicorpus," Hermione muttered, and Snape slowly rose from the ground.
"Go, Ron, you have to." She pleaded. Ron finally nodded, and trudged on down the road. When Hermione's footsteps faded to silence he looked around uneasily.
"Harry?" He called into the dark, "Harry, can we talk?"
.
The next day Hermione sat on one of the barstools at the Leaky Cauldren with Ginny on the other side of the counter. Both had teacups before them, yet neither girl had so much as sipped the tea.
"Harry wouldn't hurt Ron." Ginny said, as if trying to assure herself.
"He might not even have found him yet," Hermione added, hating how her anxiety dominated her voice.
A wizard entered the inn and called an order to Ginny. Automatonically the redhead caught one of the mugs hanging above head and filled it with firewhisky. She handed it to the man, collected the change, and then beat her head on the counter.
Hermione seized her by either side of the head to prevent further banging, "Don't make matters worse."
"Worse?!" Ginny yelled, "Killing myself couldn't make matters worse!"
"Don't say that," Hermione whispered, picking up her teacup and holding it close to her mouth. She looked contemplatively in the dark liquid, and then set it back down on its saucer.
As she did so Mrs. Weasley descended down the stairs, and asked, "How is the professor?"
"At Mungo's." Ginny replied flatly, staring at the wall.
"They said if I'd brought him any later he would have surely died." Hermione supplied, "But they have their best healers for him, so now all we can do is wait."
Mrs. Weasley nodded, passing a hand over her forehead, and joined the two.
"When did Albus leave?"
"Last night," Ginny said, "after you two went to bed."
"How late were you up last night?" Hermione asked, shocked. She herself had gone to bed at three in the morning after Ginny promised she would be up shortly.
"I never went upstairs." Ginny mumbled, hastily rubbing the counter with a rag.
"You shouldn't have!" Mrs. Weasley almost cried. Ginny, now bright red, answered, "I know, but we need the money, and Tom said he'd pay me double if I worked through the night."
Mrs. Weasley closed her eyes and buried her head in her hands, "What have we become?"
Ginny, blinking rapidly and biting her lip, rested a hand on her mother's shaking back, and looked hopelessly at Hermione.
Barely able to contain her grief, Hermione drained her lukewarm tea and left the Leaky Cauldren.
.
"How is he?" Hermione asked, peering past Healer Augustus Pye to the bed where Snape lay.
Augustus smiled, "Much better, but he was hit with a very strong Cruciatus curse, so it could be awhile before he recovers even enough to sit up."
"But he will make it?" Hermione persisted, looking into the young healer's eyes.
"Most assuredly, Miss Granger," he promised, "but I must ask: do you know who cursed him?"
"Why?" Hermione asked defensively. Augustus looked taken aback at her definiteness, and merely shrugged, "It was a very powerful wizard who could have hurt Severus Snape so badly. The patient has the mark-"
"He's a reformed Death Eater." Hermione began, but Augustus nodded, "I know that, but I was just thinking that it could have been You-Know-Who himself who did this to him."
Hermione didn't reply, but brushed past the healer and sat down by the bed. Sadly, she noticed the obvious lack of any flowers or cards.
"Pathetic, isn't it?" Augustus mentioned, "I remember him from Hogwarts; maybe if he wasn't so positively loathsome he might have some well-wishers."
Hermione nodded, and Augustus pulled a chair up next to hers, and continued, "I've read about your friend in the papers. It must be really difficult to cope with so much all the time."
"It is." Hermione agreed softly, drawing her eyes from Snape to Augustus. Augustus's face tinged red, and he finished, "If you ever need someone- even just to have listen to you- I'd be honored if you came to me."
Smiling for the first time in days, Hermione gave a nod, "Thank you. I really should get back, though."
Augustus leapt out of the chair, unnessessarily helped her stand, and escorted her out of the room. As Hermione walked down the hallway, she glanced back and saw the healer still watching her leave. Waving her hand and smiling again, she turned the corner, and headed down the stairs. When she entered the lobby she found there to be a large commotion in the doorway. A few healers, one she recognized to be Healer Smethwyck, crowded around a floating stretcher.
A head of familiar silver hair bobbed among the healers, and Hermione called out, "Dumbledore!"
The headmaster turned to see her, and his face, already grave, turned a shade sadder. He gestured her over.
Now nervous, Hermione gingerly met with him, and looked at the patient whom the healers were attending to.
"Ron!" She screamed. Her legs buckled and the world went black.