Disclaimer: Yes, after all these chapters of denial, I am going to now
claim the world-famous 'Harry Potter' characters as my own. Yes, yes, I
know I've been saying that they belong to JK Rowling, who has, of course
been publishing these characters for the last few years, and I know that I
was only about ten when the author claimed to come up with them, but
they're mine. So was the theory of relativity (a good one, even if I do say
so myself), War and Peace, the method of slicing bread, and all of the
Naked Chef's recipes. Oh, and Warner Bros have never heard of sarcasm.
Chapter Eight
The girls- or rather, Ailie- decided that in such a case of revenge, the sooner was the better. Once it began to brew, the potion would only need a night's rest before it was ready to be served to its victim. That would bring them to two days before Christmas Eve.
'You know, we may as well wait. It would be even more poetical if he had to suffer on Christmas Eve,' Ailie said, as they discussed plans of attack in Hermione's chambers.
'Poetic justice,' Hermione corrected her friend. She shrugged. The idea did make sense- Ailie had said that Christmas Eve was also an ancient sabbath, and so would heighten the magical properties experienced by the drinker of the potion. Besides, an extra two days would do the potion no harm. If anything, it would probably just make it stronger in its effect.
Hermione suspected Ailie's idea of poetic justice had come from her current reading- A Christmas Carol. Snape was as likely a Scrooge as anyone within the castle, although she highly doubted that the man would wake up full of joie de vive. Still, it would make a wonderful Christmas present to come down to breakfast on Christmas morning to see him hollow-eyed and tortured.
The plan agreed, the girls proceeded to prepare for the brewing of the potion.
***
Christmas was developing with more prospect than it had in several years, Hermione considered, the morning before Christmas Eve. The potion had bubbled away happily, and now sat in a pretty little flask on her bedside table. Harry had not only agreed to coming to Hogwarts for her Christmas Day gathering, but had decided to show up that very afternoon, two days early. Sirius, now a free man, though still facing the prejudices of an ex- convict, had agreed to accompany his godson for the holiday visit. And Hermione's parents had acquiesced to come for a brief visit on Christmas visit with barely an argument- though they were, on the whole, quite understanding of Hermione's lifestyle, the ways of the wizarding world still disturbed them. As they would have to travel by floo to get to Hogwarts in time, it was no small sacrifice.
All in all, it was looking to be a good Christmas.
Hermione stretched, relishing the feel of warm sheets against her skin. There was something about being abed on a cold winter morning that was magical in itself. She wriggled, enjoying the feeling of warmth in her toes and the brush of her nightgown around her thighs. A potent well of happiness formed in her stomach, and Hermione sat up with a smile. This Christmas was going to be great.
Walking down with Ailie to breakfast, Hermione's happy thoughts dimmed somewhat. For the past few days, Ailie had almost obsessively concentrated on the dream potion for Snape. Now that it was done, however, the other girl seemed low in spirits. Though she never talked about her parents or coven, Hermione guessed that the loss of both was still one that Ailie was still grieving. That was if she had begun at all. Hermione remembered the process she had gone through when Cedric had died, and when Susan Bones had been captured and killed two years later; she still grieved for their loss. Ailie showed no signs of going through any process at all. Christmas, a time that seemed as important to Wiccan culture as a sabbath as it did to Hermione's culture, was surely a time for Ailie to let her feelings out, yet, so far, she had remained as silent on the subject as before. Just disturbingly quiet.
Hermione led the way into the hall and to the two free seats at the head table. Being the holidays, meal times were more relaxed than usual, and only a few people were dotted around the room. The head table was only half-full.
With care, Hermione served her friend, noting how little Ailie seemed to eat. Ailie didn't even bother to scowl when Snape swept into the room, and the man himself had not lost the disconcerted look of the day before. Hermione watched them both with concern. If only strong emotions could be transferred between the two, then it could be Ailie's depression was making itself visible in Snape. That couldn't be a good thing, could it?
Something had to be done, but what, Hermione did not know. She had relatively little experience in prying into people's feelings. Harry and Ron had generally either told her what was wrong, or not. She and Ginny had been quite close as teenagers, but Ginny had always come to her with her problems, as had any of the other girls when she was Head Girl. Besides, Ailie didn't seem to want to talk. A few times, when she had seen Ailie looking a bit down, Hermione had tried to open up the subject, tried to let her know that there was someone to talk to if she wanted to, but Ailie had ignored her overtures. For such an open person, Ailie could be remarkably closed when she wanted to be.
Hermione glanced across at Snape, who was sipping at his tea with a distant look on his face. There was one option that she hadn't really considered. After all, if Ailie was suffering, he would be suffering too, wouldn't he?
When breakfast finished, Hermione rose, leaving Ailie in the capable hands of Professor Flitwick. Snape, as usual, had swept from the room as soon as he could contrive it. As friendly as ever, Hermione thought, as she walked as fast as she could toward the doors.
She managed to catch up with him halfway down the hallway, halting him with a call.
'Professor Snape!' The man turned around, and Hermione cringed at the disdainful look on his face.
After a pause, Snape raised his eyebrow. 'Yes, Hermione?'
Hermione refrained from gulping. She knew she had asked for it by arguing with him, but the way he had pronounced her name had sounded like an euphemism.
She cleared her throat. 'Professor, may I have a word with you?'
'I believe you are doing so now, Miss Granger. Kindly get on with it so I may return to my rooms in peace.'
Anger rising, Hermione took a deep steadying breath. It wouldn't do to yell at him now, and anyway, she would get her revenge with him soon enough. Hanging on to that thought, she walked down the corridor toward him.
'I'm very worried about Ailie, Professor,' she began. Snape's look was not encouraging, but she surged on. 'I think she's very depressed. She hasn't talked about the death of her parents and she obviously misses her coven. And she's really quiet at the moment. I'm worried.'
'So you said,' Snape said in a derisive tone. 'What I fail to understand, Miss Granger, is the reason you are telling me this?' Hermione wondered if he ever got a cramp from keeping that eyebrow raised.
Irritated, she said, 'I want you to talk with her.'
'I see.' Snape smiled sarcastically. 'Despite such a scintillating offer, I am forced to decline.' So saying, he turned to leave. Hermione stopped him with a hand on his arm, blushing when he stared at her.
'If Ailie's feeling depressed, then you suffer too. You'd be doing yourself a favour.'
Snape sneered. 'I will decide what 'favours' I need, Miss Granger.' Pointedly, he looked back down at Hermione's hand, still on his arm.
Quickly, Hermione removed it. Anger rose in her. Every comment the man made was designed to irritate her, to make her back down. He had no interest but to demean anyone he spoke to, and Hermione realised that she didn't need to put up with it any more.
'You know, I still have trouble believing how egotistical you can be, Snape,' she said, shaking her head. 'I'm here, asking you to have a talk with a young girl who had to sit by and watch her parents being brutally murdered, and who had to suffer through gods know what else, and with whom you happen to have a psychic link, and all you can do is think of yourself, and insinuate that I have some pathetic reason for asking you in the first place! Like it or not, Snape, you and Ailie are soul-bonded. A normal person would try to cope with the situation in a human manner. But it is you who has been acting like a child! Ailie's alone, and she won't talk to me, but I thought I could just try to get someone who would understand to talk with her. I know I shouldn't have bothered, but I wish you wouldn't be such a... selfish part!' Puffing with fury, her cheeks aflame in her anger, Hermione sent her startled ex-teacher a glare and turned on her heel, stomping her way up the corridor.
Snape managed to collect his senses. 'Miss Granger!' he called, in the most authoritative voice he could muster. Hermione didn't even pause.
'Oh, sod off!' she called over her shoulder, in no mood to talk further with the man. She was so angry she forgot to be scared of his reaction.
Hermione was discovering that yelling at Snape felt good.
***
Harry stepped from the fireplace in Hermione's room to be confronted by the sight of his godfather enveloping one of his oldest friends in a bear hug. It was a sight he still couldn't get used to- even after three years of his freedom, it was strange to see Sirius in a normal social environment, strange to see him so relaxed. Sirius put Hermione down, and Harry stepped forward for his turn.
Wrapping his arms around his friend, Harry noticed another figure in the room, standing in the far corner and looking wary. Releasing Hermione with a smile, he looked toward the new girl.
'You must be Ailie,' he said, walking toward her with his hand outstretched. 'Hermione's told me a lot about her 'cousin.''
The girl took his hand, though somewhat reluctantly, and shook it. Harry felt a strange sense of familiarity. He turned to Hermione, who was now leading Sirius to the couch, and frowned.
Hermione got up from the couch almost immediately, and led Ailie by the arm a little closer to the group.
'Ailie, this is Harry,' she said, linking her free arm with her old school chum. 'Harry, Ailie.' This time, Harry got a small smile.
'I am sorry if I seem a little strange today, Harry,' the other girl replied, and Harry was fascinated by the lilting accent tainting her voice. 'I am not feeling quite myself today.' At this, she gave Hermione a speaking look, and the Hogwarts graduate gave the other girl a small hug.
'Would everyone like a cup of tea?' Hermione inquired.
Harry nodded, and sat down in an arm-chair that was set next to the overstuffed couch. As Hermione summoned a tea set from the table by the bay window, he took the opportunity to glance at his surroundings.
They were seated in a nicely bright room, the walls painted a yellow so pale that it was difficult to discern whether it was colour staining the wall or light itself. Hermione, ever the traditionalist, had chosen an Elizabethan style for her room, with a pattern of roses decorating the cornices and reflected in places on the carpet and furniture. A small table stood by the uncurtained window, dark wood glowing in the dim light, and bookcases of the same wood lined the far wall. In front of the fire sat the couch upon which Harry's godfather was currently seated, looking with content at the bright fire and the grace with which Hermione, seated next to him, was pouring the tea. In front of them stood a small coffee table. Either side of the couch were placed matching armchairs, in which Harry and his new acquaintance were seated, completing the cosy picture. Harry felt a slight pang as he thought of his own rooms in the Ministry of Magic housing project, cluttered with old clothes and slightly smelly. Sometimes, being a carefree bachelor of nineteen had its disadvantages.
Hermione handed him his cup of tea and Harry sat back, taking the time to observe Ailie. The girl shakingly took a cup of black tea from Hermione's hand, holding it in both of her hands as if it were a life preserver. She took a first sip and pulled a face, but took another anyway. After a second, a look of relaxation came upon her face. Harry looked at his own cup, confused. What had Hermione put in it?
Carefully, he took a sip, but detected nothing out of the ordinary. Curiouser and curiouser.
Contemplatively, Harry sat back and observed the scene before him. There was definitely something going on that no one was telling him.
***
Hermione watched with relief as Ailie relaxed, becoming more of herself again. After her failed attempt to reason with Snape, Hermione had decided to try once more with the girl. Knowing Ailie probably wouldn't want to talk about her troubles, but wanting to help her in some way, Hermione had approached her with the idea of a cheering potion, to help her enjoy the Christmas break. She had been surprised at how easily Ailie accepted the idea.
'That's a good idea, 'Mione,' Ailie had said, in a sad voice. 'I don't know what's got into me today- I'm sorry.'
It had taken all of Hermione's power to reassure Ailie that she wasn't being a bore, and to prepare her for visitors.
Now that Ailie was imbibing a cup of tea laced with cheering potion, Hermione felt she could relax a little. She settled back into her seat on the couch and prepared to listen with interest to Harry and Sirius' news.
***
Ailie felt the cheering solution begin to work, and smiled slightly. It was scary these days how out of control she could become, emotionally. In a relatively short period of time, she had descended from the bubble of happiness she had felt over the dream potion, into near despair. It was not an emotional climate she was used to.
Damn that Snape! It was his blood coursing through her veins that made her act this way. The feeling of being pulled down was unbearable. Still, there were a few comforts she could console herself with. After their 'conversation' the other day, she had found a new and interesting option when it came to magic- it seemed, that along with his emotions, Ailie could access Snape's magical gifts. And, of more immediate comfort was the fact that soon, she would have the satisfaction of seeing that man very uncomfortable indeed.
The cheering potion taking full effect, Ailie sat forward a little and paid more attention to the new company.
***
Dinner saw a very happy group gathered around one end of the head table. Harry was using the opportunity to catch up with Hagrid, the two of them talking so rapidly that each of them barely forced a mouthful. Sirius, smiling, sat between Dumbledore and Hermione, as the latter chatted with Ailie and Professor Sprout.
Snape watched the group with uneasy eyes. Hermione's words of that morning had not gone without their effect. Much as he disliked the girl, she did have a point when she accused him of selfishness. Denying her request was not unreasonable in itself; it was, in fact, better than the wench should have expected after the scene she had caused. It was remarkable that she felt able to approach him at all.
She did have a point, though, in her concern for her friend. Snape had felt Ailie's distress almost ever since they had been linked, but her grief had mingled so nicely with his own that he had been able to avoid noticing it.
The girl looked fine enough now, but Snape was astute enough not to go on appearances. As he had been so aptly reminded, he did have a psychic link to the girl. He had been feeling her slow descent into depression, feeling the drain of all that was confident in her. He knew he was probably one of the most qualified to talk with the girl, as well. He would simply have to find a way to talk with her; no small task, considering her habitual reaction to him. At least, now, he knew that she was, for some lucky reason, unable to perform any sort of magic on him. He would be in no physical danger when attempting to perform his noble gesture.
The idea of having to follow Hermione's suggestion, to bow to her whim, gave Snape no real discomfort. He was a reasonable man, and could admit when he was wrong. When pressed.
It had been more surprise than displeasure he felt at her outburst. It was not often someone confronted him in such a way.
Yes, indeed. Hermione- Miss Granger- no longer seemed afraid of him at all. He couldn't think of her yelling at him this morning without remembering her as a child, standing in his classroom with her eyes speaking defiance, yet remaining silent. The years had never changed that stance, nor that look. Oh, yes, Snape knew how much every one of his students would have liked to voice their true opinions of him over the years.
Somehow, though, Hermione had managed to get beyond whatever it was that had kept her silent all those years. It seemed now that she had begun, she had decided to make up for all that time of silent fury. It was almost admirable, the way her cheeks flushed at her own daring, the way her eyes flashed at him before she glanced away in horror, her tentative boldness failing her. It was amusing.
Of course, that didn't mean that he wouldn't make her pay for her impudence.
Snape realised he was staring at her, and swiftly looked away. There may have been something admirable in the spirit that drove her to stand up to him after years of subservience, but nothing else there was sufficient to capture his interest.
Snape glanced at Sirius Black, who had leant past Hermione to say a few words to Ailie. The years of conflict in which he and Black had fought side by side against the dark forces had dimmed somewhat their hatred for each other, to the point that they could now converse civilly. Snape, though grudgingly, would even admit a respect for the deeds Black had accomplished during the war. Besides, even old enemies had a closer relationship than new acquaintances.
The young Wiccan girl smiled at something Black said, and Snape noticed the almost fatherly way with which the man returned the smile. It solidified the idea that had been forming in his mind all evening.
Perhaps it would be best put into practice quickly, after dinner.
***
At the close of the meal, Dumbledore stood, and suggested that the new guests to the castle be welcomed with an after dinner drink in the staff room. Nodding briefly to the few students who had remained at the school for the holidays, and indicating that they could leave, the old wizard led the way to the staff room.
Hermione smiled happily as she walked from the room on the arm of Sirius. It felt so good to be in the company of her friends again, and the air seemed filled with Christmas spirit. She smiled over at Ailie, chatting with Hagrid and Harry. With these people here, things almost felt normal again.
Normal was also the word that crossed Hermione's mind when she spied Snape stalking his way across the room toward them, a few minutes later. His gaze fell on her arm through Sirius', and a familiar look of disdain touched his features. Hermione carefully kept her expression disinterested, though anger sparked in her eyes. Really, the man was ready to insult her in any way possible. Still, she removed her hand from Sirius' arm.
Pointedly ignoring her, Snape addressed Sirius.
'May I have a word with you?'
Black nodded, and with a smile to Hermione, moved with Snape to the other side of the room.
Hermione looked after them with puzzled gaze as they made their way to a couple of armchairs set before a moonlit window.
***
'So, what's going on with you and Hermione, Severus?' Sirius asked.
Snape raised an eyebrow. ''Going on'?'
'I saw that sneer. Practically trademarked, that look of yours. And I felt the way Hermione stiffened when you came near.' Sirius smirked, and took a sip of the brandy he had been handed upon entering the room.
'If by 'Hermione' you mean Miss Granger, she has more than justified what you call my 'trademark sneer' by her ridiculous behaviour unbecoming a member of Hogwarts staff.' Snape rested his own balloon of brandy on the arm of his chair, delicately swirling the liquid and watching the light glint in the glass. 'If I were you, I would concentrate on the phrasing of that question. 'Hermione stiffened on my arm', Black?'
He was surprised to see the other man's cheeks darken, and received an even darker look.
'You know, Snape, you really are a bastard,' Sirius muttered. Snape's lip twitched in what could have possibly have been a smile.
'My father would have been very displeased to hear that. But, anyway, I wanted to talk to you on other matters.' Pausing, Snape took a contemplative sip of his brandy, then pressed on. 'Some weeks ago I managed to save a young girl from a Dark Revel. She was injured, though not too badly, and I brought her here. I have since had to... assume some responsibility for the girl.' Snape spied Sirius' raised eyebrow and glared. 'Not because of any nefarious pleasures, I assure you.'
'Am I right in assuming that the girl was Ailie?' Black asked.
Snape nodded. 'I have cause for concern about her. I have been told that she is exhibiting signs of depression. She watched both of her parents die- I was unable to stop that- and you can imagine what sort of experience that was for her.'
Black sneered unpleasantly. 'Wonderful.'
'Yes. Not exactly a sight I would wish on anyone.' Snape looked out into the dark night for a moment, a cloud passing over his features. Black looked at him sympathetically. Both of them knew what it was like to have images that could never be banished from the mind.
Quickly, Snape shook his head, and turned back to his companion. 'The girl has not grieved for her loss. It seems as though she is almost denying it, or not thinking about it. Something must be done.'
'Where do I come in?'
Snape took another sip of his brandy, disguising a sigh. 'Someone needs to talk to her, but I cannot do it alone. She saw me at the Dark Revel, and does not know- or has not bothered to work out for herself- my part in it. You can probably guess what conclusions she has drawn about me.'
'You're an evil bastard who causes nothing but pain and should be made to suffer,' Sirius said thoughtfully. He grinned at Snape's sharp look. 'I was vocalising her thoughts, of course.'
'Yes, well.' Snape frowned, and continued, 'This is my responsibility, and I do not wish to 'wriggle out of it,' as some would accuse me. However, I feel the girl is unlikely to welcome a cosy talk with I alone. As someone who is experienced in dealing with such matters...' He trailed off, spreading his hands in an eloquent gesture.
Black nodded. 'You want me to talk with her as well. Well, that's no problem. I've become counsellor to others in my time.'
'Thank you,' Snape said, his tone speaking the gratitude he felt for Black's uncomplicated agreement.
The two men stared out the darkened window for a time, both lost in their thoughts. Eventually, Sirius said, 'I hope you're not traumatising my girl, Severus.'
Snape raised an eyebrow. 'I can only conclude, Sirius, from the beginning of our conversation, that you mean Hermione Granger.' Black nodded, and Snape continued, 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'
'I may not be as cunningly observant as you, Severus, but don't think I didn't notice the way you two have reacted to each other all evening. I haven't seen you be so unjustifiably nasty since Harry's younger days. I want to know how Hermione has warranted it.'
Snape took a sip of brandy, his face contemplative. 'Since when did Hermione Granger become a concern of yours?'
'Oh, come on, Snape. I've known the girl since she was twelve. She is, in spirit, if not in fact, Harry's sister, and also a very good friend. She's family, and she needs someone to look out for her when it comes to a nasty old fart such as yourself.' Black sipped at his own glass, and waited for an answer.
'I'm not being 'nasty,' as you so eloquently put it, Black,' answered Snape. 'The girl has warranted my dislike. She has always behaved improperly at this school, and that behaviour has not ceased simply because she is now here as an employee. She has a tendency toward recklessness that most people seem to ignore, and a specialised stupidity that leaves me wondering at the commendations she so commonly receives.'
'That's your opinion of half the people you meet, Snape,' Black said, his eyes hiding a smile.
Snape sighed. 'The girl deserves all the rebukes she gets, Black. And she should heed them. These are not times to become soft in. Besides, she is well able to look after herself, it seems. Anyone who thinks of Hermione Granger as a quiet little girl is under a dire misapprehension.'
'Yes, indeed,' agreed Sirius in a low voice, directing his gaze back at Hermione. Snape's upper lip twitched, and not in amusement.
'Leave me alone, Black,' he said, his voice a dangerous purr. 'I'm sure you have more interesting things to do.'
His tone elicited only a laugh from his companion. 'Yes, I'm certain. Well, on the other matter, you know where to find me. We're staying in Hermione's rooms, you know.' With a leer, Black got to his feet and walked back over to where Harry and Hermione still stood. Snape followed him with his eyes, his looks dark.
Chapter Eight
The girls- or rather, Ailie- decided that in such a case of revenge, the sooner was the better. Once it began to brew, the potion would only need a night's rest before it was ready to be served to its victim. That would bring them to two days before Christmas Eve.
'You know, we may as well wait. It would be even more poetical if he had to suffer on Christmas Eve,' Ailie said, as they discussed plans of attack in Hermione's chambers.
'Poetic justice,' Hermione corrected her friend. She shrugged. The idea did make sense- Ailie had said that Christmas Eve was also an ancient sabbath, and so would heighten the magical properties experienced by the drinker of the potion. Besides, an extra two days would do the potion no harm. If anything, it would probably just make it stronger in its effect.
Hermione suspected Ailie's idea of poetic justice had come from her current reading- A Christmas Carol. Snape was as likely a Scrooge as anyone within the castle, although she highly doubted that the man would wake up full of joie de vive. Still, it would make a wonderful Christmas present to come down to breakfast on Christmas morning to see him hollow-eyed and tortured.
The plan agreed, the girls proceeded to prepare for the brewing of the potion.
***
Christmas was developing with more prospect than it had in several years, Hermione considered, the morning before Christmas Eve. The potion had bubbled away happily, and now sat in a pretty little flask on her bedside table. Harry had not only agreed to coming to Hogwarts for her Christmas Day gathering, but had decided to show up that very afternoon, two days early. Sirius, now a free man, though still facing the prejudices of an ex- convict, had agreed to accompany his godson for the holiday visit. And Hermione's parents had acquiesced to come for a brief visit on Christmas visit with barely an argument- though they were, on the whole, quite understanding of Hermione's lifestyle, the ways of the wizarding world still disturbed them. As they would have to travel by floo to get to Hogwarts in time, it was no small sacrifice.
All in all, it was looking to be a good Christmas.
Hermione stretched, relishing the feel of warm sheets against her skin. There was something about being abed on a cold winter morning that was magical in itself. She wriggled, enjoying the feeling of warmth in her toes and the brush of her nightgown around her thighs. A potent well of happiness formed in her stomach, and Hermione sat up with a smile. This Christmas was going to be great.
Walking down with Ailie to breakfast, Hermione's happy thoughts dimmed somewhat. For the past few days, Ailie had almost obsessively concentrated on the dream potion for Snape. Now that it was done, however, the other girl seemed low in spirits. Though she never talked about her parents or coven, Hermione guessed that the loss of both was still one that Ailie was still grieving. That was if she had begun at all. Hermione remembered the process she had gone through when Cedric had died, and when Susan Bones had been captured and killed two years later; she still grieved for their loss. Ailie showed no signs of going through any process at all. Christmas, a time that seemed as important to Wiccan culture as a sabbath as it did to Hermione's culture, was surely a time for Ailie to let her feelings out, yet, so far, she had remained as silent on the subject as before. Just disturbingly quiet.
Hermione led the way into the hall and to the two free seats at the head table. Being the holidays, meal times were more relaxed than usual, and only a few people were dotted around the room. The head table was only half-full.
With care, Hermione served her friend, noting how little Ailie seemed to eat. Ailie didn't even bother to scowl when Snape swept into the room, and the man himself had not lost the disconcerted look of the day before. Hermione watched them both with concern. If only strong emotions could be transferred between the two, then it could be Ailie's depression was making itself visible in Snape. That couldn't be a good thing, could it?
Something had to be done, but what, Hermione did not know. She had relatively little experience in prying into people's feelings. Harry and Ron had generally either told her what was wrong, or not. She and Ginny had been quite close as teenagers, but Ginny had always come to her with her problems, as had any of the other girls when she was Head Girl. Besides, Ailie didn't seem to want to talk. A few times, when she had seen Ailie looking a bit down, Hermione had tried to open up the subject, tried to let her know that there was someone to talk to if she wanted to, but Ailie had ignored her overtures. For such an open person, Ailie could be remarkably closed when she wanted to be.
Hermione glanced across at Snape, who was sipping at his tea with a distant look on his face. There was one option that she hadn't really considered. After all, if Ailie was suffering, he would be suffering too, wouldn't he?
When breakfast finished, Hermione rose, leaving Ailie in the capable hands of Professor Flitwick. Snape, as usual, had swept from the room as soon as he could contrive it. As friendly as ever, Hermione thought, as she walked as fast as she could toward the doors.
She managed to catch up with him halfway down the hallway, halting him with a call.
'Professor Snape!' The man turned around, and Hermione cringed at the disdainful look on his face.
After a pause, Snape raised his eyebrow. 'Yes, Hermione?'
Hermione refrained from gulping. She knew she had asked for it by arguing with him, but the way he had pronounced her name had sounded like an euphemism.
She cleared her throat. 'Professor, may I have a word with you?'
'I believe you are doing so now, Miss Granger. Kindly get on with it so I may return to my rooms in peace.'
Anger rising, Hermione took a deep steadying breath. It wouldn't do to yell at him now, and anyway, she would get her revenge with him soon enough. Hanging on to that thought, she walked down the corridor toward him.
'I'm very worried about Ailie, Professor,' she began. Snape's look was not encouraging, but she surged on. 'I think she's very depressed. She hasn't talked about the death of her parents and she obviously misses her coven. And she's really quiet at the moment. I'm worried.'
'So you said,' Snape said in a derisive tone. 'What I fail to understand, Miss Granger, is the reason you are telling me this?' Hermione wondered if he ever got a cramp from keeping that eyebrow raised.
Irritated, she said, 'I want you to talk with her.'
'I see.' Snape smiled sarcastically. 'Despite such a scintillating offer, I am forced to decline.' So saying, he turned to leave. Hermione stopped him with a hand on his arm, blushing when he stared at her.
'If Ailie's feeling depressed, then you suffer too. You'd be doing yourself a favour.'
Snape sneered. 'I will decide what 'favours' I need, Miss Granger.' Pointedly, he looked back down at Hermione's hand, still on his arm.
Quickly, Hermione removed it. Anger rose in her. Every comment the man made was designed to irritate her, to make her back down. He had no interest but to demean anyone he spoke to, and Hermione realised that she didn't need to put up with it any more.
'You know, I still have trouble believing how egotistical you can be, Snape,' she said, shaking her head. 'I'm here, asking you to have a talk with a young girl who had to sit by and watch her parents being brutally murdered, and who had to suffer through gods know what else, and with whom you happen to have a psychic link, and all you can do is think of yourself, and insinuate that I have some pathetic reason for asking you in the first place! Like it or not, Snape, you and Ailie are soul-bonded. A normal person would try to cope with the situation in a human manner. But it is you who has been acting like a child! Ailie's alone, and she won't talk to me, but I thought I could just try to get someone who would understand to talk with her. I know I shouldn't have bothered, but I wish you wouldn't be such a... selfish part!' Puffing with fury, her cheeks aflame in her anger, Hermione sent her startled ex-teacher a glare and turned on her heel, stomping her way up the corridor.
Snape managed to collect his senses. 'Miss Granger!' he called, in the most authoritative voice he could muster. Hermione didn't even pause.
'Oh, sod off!' she called over her shoulder, in no mood to talk further with the man. She was so angry she forgot to be scared of his reaction.
Hermione was discovering that yelling at Snape felt good.
***
Harry stepped from the fireplace in Hermione's room to be confronted by the sight of his godfather enveloping one of his oldest friends in a bear hug. It was a sight he still couldn't get used to- even after three years of his freedom, it was strange to see Sirius in a normal social environment, strange to see him so relaxed. Sirius put Hermione down, and Harry stepped forward for his turn.
Wrapping his arms around his friend, Harry noticed another figure in the room, standing in the far corner and looking wary. Releasing Hermione with a smile, he looked toward the new girl.
'You must be Ailie,' he said, walking toward her with his hand outstretched. 'Hermione's told me a lot about her 'cousin.''
The girl took his hand, though somewhat reluctantly, and shook it. Harry felt a strange sense of familiarity. He turned to Hermione, who was now leading Sirius to the couch, and frowned.
Hermione got up from the couch almost immediately, and led Ailie by the arm a little closer to the group.
'Ailie, this is Harry,' she said, linking her free arm with her old school chum. 'Harry, Ailie.' This time, Harry got a small smile.
'I am sorry if I seem a little strange today, Harry,' the other girl replied, and Harry was fascinated by the lilting accent tainting her voice. 'I am not feeling quite myself today.' At this, she gave Hermione a speaking look, and the Hogwarts graduate gave the other girl a small hug.
'Would everyone like a cup of tea?' Hermione inquired.
Harry nodded, and sat down in an arm-chair that was set next to the overstuffed couch. As Hermione summoned a tea set from the table by the bay window, he took the opportunity to glance at his surroundings.
They were seated in a nicely bright room, the walls painted a yellow so pale that it was difficult to discern whether it was colour staining the wall or light itself. Hermione, ever the traditionalist, had chosen an Elizabethan style for her room, with a pattern of roses decorating the cornices and reflected in places on the carpet and furniture. A small table stood by the uncurtained window, dark wood glowing in the dim light, and bookcases of the same wood lined the far wall. In front of the fire sat the couch upon which Harry's godfather was currently seated, looking with content at the bright fire and the grace with which Hermione, seated next to him, was pouring the tea. In front of them stood a small coffee table. Either side of the couch were placed matching armchairs, in which Harry and his new acquaintance were seated, completing the cosy picture. Harry felt a slight pang as he thought of his own rooms in the Ministry of Magic housing project, cluttered with old clothes and slightly smelly. Sometimes, being a carefree bachelor of nineteen had its disadvantages.
Hermione handed him his cup of tea and Harry sat back, taking the time to observe Ailie. The girl shakingly took a cup of black tea from Hermione's hand, holding it in both of her hands as if it were a life preserver. She took a first sip and pulled a face, but took another anyway. After a second, a look of relaxation came upon her face. Harry looked at his own cup, confused. What had Hermione put in it?
Carefully, he took a sip, but detected nothing out of the ordinary. Curiouser and curiouser.
Contemplatively, Harry sat back and observed the scene before him. There was definitely something going on that no one was telling him.
***
Hermione watched with relief as Ailie relaxed, becoming more of herself again. After her failed attempt to reason with Snape, Hermione had decided to try once more with the girl. Knowing Ailie probably wouldn't want to talk about her troubles, but wanting to help her in some way, Hermione had approached her with the idea of a cheering potion, to help her enjoy the Christmas break. She had been surprised at how easily Ailie accepted the idea.
'That's a good idea, 'Mione,' Ailie had said, in a sad voice. 'I don't know what's got into me today- I'm sorry.'
It had taken all of Hermione's power to reassure Ailie that she wasn't being a bore, and to prepare her for visitors.
Now that Ailie was imbibing a cup of tea laced with cheering potion, Hermione felt she could relax a little. She settled back into her seat on the couch and prepared to listen with interest to Harry and Sirius' news.
***
Ailie felt the cheering solution begin to work, and smiled slightly. It was scary these days how out of control she could become, emotionally. In a relatively short period of time, she had descended from the bubble of happiness she had felt over the dream potion, into near despair. It was not an emotional climate she was used to.
Damn that Snape! It was his blood coursing through her veins that made her act this way. The feeling of being pulled down was unbearable. Still, there were a few comforts she could console herself with. After their 'conversation' the other day, she had found a new and interesting option when it came to magic- it seemed, that along with his emotions, Ailie could access Snape's magical gifts. And, of more immediate comfort was the fact that soon, she would have the satisfaction of seeing that man very uncomfortable indeed.
The cheering potion taking full effect, Ailie sat forward a little and paid more attention to the new company.
***
Dinner saw a very happy group gathered around one end of the head table. Harry was using the opportunity to catch up with Hagrid, the two of them talking so rapidly that each of them barely forced a mouthful. Sirius, smiling, sat between Dumbledore and Hermione, as the latter chatted with Ailie and Professor Sprout.
Snape watched the group with uneasy eyes. Hermione's words of that morning had not gone without their effect. Much as he disliked the girl, she did have a point when she accused him of selfishness. Denying her request was not unreasonable in itself; it was, in fact, better than the wench should have expected after the scene she had caused. It was remarkable that she felt able to approach him at all.
She did have a point, though, in her concern for her friend. Snape had felt Ailie's distress almost ever since they had been linked, but her grief had mingled so nicely with his own that he had been able to avoid noticing it.
The girl looked fine enough now, but Snape was astute enough not to go on appearances. As he had been so aptly reminded, he did have a psychic link to the girl. He had been feeling her slow descent into depression, feeling the drain of all that was confident in her. He knew he was probably one of the most qualified to talk with the girl, as well. He would simply have to find a way to talk with her; no small task, considering her habitual reaction to him. At least, now, he knew that she was, for some lucky reason, unable to perform any sort of magic on him. He would be in no physical danger when attempting to perform his noble gesture.
The idea of having to follow Hermione's suggestion, to bow to her whim, gave Snape no real discomfort. He was a reasonable man, and could admit when he was wrong. When pressed.
It had been more surprise than displeasure he felt at her outburst. It was not often someone confronted him in such a way.
Yes, indeed. Hermione- Miss Granger- no longer seemed afraid of him at all. He couldn't think of her yelling at him this morning without remembering her as a child, standing in his classroom with her eyes speaking defiance, yet remaining silent. The years had never changed that stance, nor that look. Oh, yes, Snape knew how much every one of his students would have liked to voice their true opinions of him over the years.
Somehow, though, Hermione had managed to get beyond whatever it was that had kept her silent all those years. It seemed now that she had begun, she had decided to make up for all that time of silent fury. It was almost admirable, the way her cheeks flushed at her own daring, the way her eyes flashed at him before she glanced away in horror, her tentative boldness failing her. It was amusing.
Of course, that didn't mean that he wouldn't make her pay for her impudence.
Snape realised he was staring at her, and swiftly looked away. There may have been something admirable in the spirit that drove her to stand up to him after years of subservience, but nothing else there was sufficient to capture his interest.
Snape glanced at Sirius Black, who had leant past Hermione to say a few words to Ailie. The years of conflict in which he and Black had fought side by side against the dark forces had dimmed somewhat their hatred for each other, to the point that they could now converse civilly. Snape, though grudgingly, would even admit a respect for the deeds Black had accomplished during the war. Besides, even old enemies had a closer relationship than new acquaintances.
The young Wiccan girl smiled at something Black said, and Snape noticed the almost fatherly way with which the man returned the smile. It solidified the idea that had been forming in his mind all evening.
Perhaps it would be best put into practice quickly, after dinner.
***
At the close of the meal, Dumbledore stood, and suggested that the new guests to the castle be welcomed with an after dinner drink in the staff room. Nodding briefly to the few students who had remained at the school for the holidays, and indicating that they could leave, the old wizard led the way to the staff room.
Hermione smiled happily as she walked from the room on the arm of Sirius. It felt so good to be in the company of her friends again, and the air seemed filled with Christmas spirit. She smiled over at Ailie, chatting with Hagrid and Harry. With these people here, things almost felt normal again.
Normal was also the word that crossed Hermione's mind when she spied Snape stalking his way across the room toward them, a few minutes later. His gaze fell on her arm through Sirius', and a familiar look of disdain touched his features. Hermione carefully kept her expression disinterested, though anger sparked in her eyes. Really, the man was ready to insult her in any way possible. Still, she removed her hand from Sirius' arm.
Pointedly ignoring her, Snape addressed Sirius.
'May I have a word with you?'
Black nodded, and with a smile to Hermione, moved with Snape to the other side of the room.
Hermione looked after them with puzzled gaze as they made their way to a couple of armchairs set before a moonlit window.
***
'So, what's going on with you and Hermione, Severus?' Sirius asked.
Snape raised an eyebrow. ''Going on'?'
'I saw that sneer. Practically trademarked, that look of yours. And I felt the way Hermione stiffened when you came near.' Sirius smirked, and took a sip of the brandy he had been handed upon entering the room.
'If by 'Hermione' you mean Miss Granger, she has more than justified what you call my 'trademark sneer' by her ridiculous behaviour unbecoming a member of Hogwarts staff.' Snape rested his own balloon of brandy on the arm of his chair, delicately swirling the liquid and watching the light glint in the glass. 'If I were you, I would concentrate on the phrasing of that question. 'Hermione stiffened on my arm', Black?'
He was surprised to see the other man's cheeks darken, and received an even darker look.
'You know, Snape, you really are a bastard,' Sirius muttered. Snape's lip twitched in what could have possibly have been a smile.
'My father would have been very displeased to hear that. But, anyway, I wanted to talk to you on other matters.' Pausing, Snape took a contemplative sip of his brandy, then pressed on. 'Some weeks ago I managed to save a young girl from a Dark Revel. She was injured, though not too badly, and I brought her here. I have since had to... assume some responsibility for the girl.' Snape spied Sirius' raised eyebrow and glared. 'Not because of any nefarious pleasures, I assure you.'
'Am I right in assuming that the girl was Ailie?' Black asked.
Snape nodded. 'I have cause for concern about her. I have been told that she is exhibiting signs of depression. She watched both of her parents die- I was unable to stop that- and you can imagine what sort of experience that was for her.'
Black sneered unpleasantly. 'Wonderful.'
'Yes. Not exactly a sight I would wish on anyone.' Snape looked out into the dark night for a moment, a cloud passing over his features. Black looked at him sympathetically. Both of them knew what it was like to have images that could never be banished from the mind.
Quickly, Snape shook his head, and turned back to his companion. 'The girl has not grieved for her loss. It seems as though she is almost denying it, or not thinking about it. Something must be done.'
'Where do I come in?'
Snape took another sip of his brandy, disguising a sigh. 'Someone needs to talk to her, but I cannot do it alone. She saw me at the Dark Revel, and does not know- or has not bothered to work out for herself- my part in it. You can probably guess what conclusions she has drawn about me.'
'You're an evil bastard who causes nothing but pain and should be made to suffer,' Sirius said thoughtfully. He grinned at Snape's sharp look. 'I was vocalising her thoughts, of course.'
'Yes, well.' Snape frowned, and continued, 'This is my responsibility, and I do not wish to 'wriggle out of it,' as some would accuse me. However, I feel the girl is unlikely to welcome a cosy talk with I alone. As someone who is experienced in dealing with such matters...' He trailed off, spreading his hands in an eloquent gesture.
Black nodded. 'You want me to talk with her as well. Well, that's no problem. I've become counsellor to others in my time.'
'Thank you,' Snape said, his tone speaking the gratitude he felt for Black's uncomplicated agreement.
The two men stared out the darkened window for a time, both lost in their thoughts. Eventually, Sirius said, 'I hope you're not traumatising my girl, Severus.'
Snape raised an eyebrow. 'I can only conclude, Sirius, from the beginning of our conversation, that you mean Hermione Granger.' Black nodded, and Snape continued, 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'
'I may not be as cunningly observant as you, Severus, but don't think I didn't notice the way you two have reacted to each other all evening. I haven't seen you be so unjustifiably nasty since Harry's younger days. I want to know how Hermione has warranted it.'
Snape took a sip of brandy, his face contemplative. 'Since when did Hermione Granger become a concern of yours?'
'Oh, come on, Snape. I've known the girl since she was twelve. She is, in spirit, if not in fact, Harry's sister, and also a very good friend. She's family, and she needs someone to look out for her when it comes to a nasty old fart such as yourself.' Black sipped at his own glass, and waited for an answer.
'I'm not being 'nasty,' as you so eloquently put it, Black,' answered Snape. 'The girl has warranted my dislike. She has always behaved improperly at this school, and that behaviour has not ceased simply because she is now here as an employee. She has a tendency toward recklessness that most people seem to ignore, and a specialised stupidity that leaves me wondering at the commendations she so commonly receives.'
'That's your opinion of half the people you meet, Snape,' Black said, his eyes hiding a smile.
Snape sighed. 'The girl deserves all the rebukes she gets, Black. And she should heed them. These are not times to become soft in. Besides, she is well able to look after herself, it seems. Anyone who thinks of Hermione Granger as a quiet little girl is under a dire misapprehension.'
'Yes, indeed,' agreed Sirius in a low voice, directing his gaze back at Hermione. Snape's upper lip twitched, and not in amusement.
'Leave me alone, Black,' he said, his voice a dangerous purr. 'I'm sure you have more interesting things to do.'
His tone elicited only a laugh from his companion. 'Yes, I'm certain. Well, on the other matter, you know where to find me. We're staying in Hermione's rooms, you know.' With a leer, Black got to his feet and walked back over to where Harry and Hermione still stood. Snape followed him with his eyes, his looks dark.