Chapter Thirty-Two
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Hermione rose almost with the sun, unable to sleep. Today, all of the children would return to their homes, leaving the castle near-empty. Most of the staff would return to their homes, visiting family or, in many cases, taking the opportunity to travel. Though they would most likely use the castle as a home base over the summer, the staff were free to pursue their own lives from today.
Which left Hermione in an interesting position. She had received no sign of any invitation to stay on at Hogwarts. In a few days, all of the teachers would submit their evaluation of her to her college, who would then make their decision on giving her her degree. She had few worries in that corner- the only person who would be likely to give her a bad report would be Snape, and the two of them had been getting along relatively well lately.
The topic of Snape made Hermione blush as she thought of their kiss the night before. The whole event smacked of the unreal, now. She could almost think she had imagined it, except now she had the sure certainty of what Severus Snape tasted like imprinted in her mind, knew how the stubble on his chin felt against her skin, knew the pulse of his throat, beating so strongly she couldn't tell if it was her own as well. She also knew that it would be a good idea to put such remeniscences out of her mind- if they were to work together, if they weren't to work together, if they were locked up in a room again for three weeks, he would never mention it.
And the topic might never come up anyway. There was absolutely no reason for her to remain at Hogwarts. Where else she could go, she didn't know- her parents, fully confident that their grown-up daighter could continue to look after herself, had sold their old house and bought a much more pleasant, but much smaller, house in Reading. She could camp out in the spare room, but the idea didn't appeal. Ron and Ginny had offered their flat for her use, but even Hermione knew that 'any time she wanted' was an invitation to trouble when it came to staying with friends. Harry was unable to accomodate her, her bank account couldn't carry her very far... Basically, her lack of planning, getting caught up in life at Hogwarts, could land her in a sticky situation.
Hermione sighed. She would probably be okay. There were quite a few people, she knew, who would want their children tutored over the summer, brushing up on subjects for the coming year. She could probably even travel to France, teaching English there. It could all turn out to be a big adventure.
So why did it all depress her so horribly?
***
Minerva McGonagall was putting the final touches on some student reports when a knock sounded at her door. Before she could give permission to enter, the door was swept open by a rather jubilant Professor Sprout who then ensconced herself in a chair before the desk.
'I don't believe I've seen you this energetic for months, Esmerelda,' Minerva said, laying her quill down on the desk.
'I just sent off the last lot of the students,' Sprout replied happily. She raised an eyebrow at her colleague. 'A task I noticed you managed to get out of.'
'I did my part early this morning in making sure all my Gryffindors were packed and ready to depart,' McGonagall said dryly, 'I failed to notice your cheery face that early.'
Sprout snorted, slumping in her chair. 'Well,' she said. 'Anyway, the important thing is that they're gone. No more mysterious rashes or sudden explosions in my greenhouses for three whole months!'
'Are you planning to travel this year at all?' McGonagall asked.
Sprout nodded. 'I had a letter from a colleague in Africa- apparently she's been finding some intriguing samples of Herbstone in the jungles there. I thought I'd take a look,' she explained, looking down to study her nails. Minerva looked at her with narrowed eyes.
'No bringing back any samples, Esme,' she cautioned, giving her friend a stern look. 'And that means dried as well. We get in enough trouble every year with the Ministry as it is.'
'I was just going to bring back some supplies for Poppy-' Sprout began, looking cowed, but was cut off by Minerva's raised hand.
'All of which Poppy can get through legal means,' McGonagall said. 'No.'
Another knock interrupted their conversation, and both turned to see the headmaster peek around the door.
'Ah, Minerva, Esmerelda,' he said, smiling as he entered the room. 'It's good to catch both of you. I just wanted to remind both of you that young Miss Granger's reviews are due back to her college as soon as possible.' Minerva motioned for him to take a seat, and he did.
'Well, that'll be easy,' Esmerelda said, leaning back. 'Hermione was quite good in my classes, especially when it came to helping the children who were struggling. I won't be recommending her for my position, of course,' she smiled, 'but her skills as a teacher are well formed.'
'Hermione did remarkably well with the students she was tutoring in my class,' McGonagall said. 'She's always been good with troubled students.'
Dumbledore raised his hands. 'Save it for your reports, please, ladies. I am in complete agreement.'
Sprout leant toward Dumbledore, looking at him curiously. 'So,' she said. 'What are we going to do about our young ex-student?' Dumbledore sighed, and glanced at Minerva, who looked put down also.
'The trouble is, we have no vacancies at the moment,' she said, and Sprout nodded sympathetically. As much as she liked Hermione, a young, fairly inexperienced graduate hadn't the clout to push someone else from their position.
Dumbledore moved slightly, and Sprout looked over to see a contemplative expression on his face.
'Manuel Hardworthy has been showing some signs of strain in his position,' the headmaster said, and his two companions raised their eyebrows at each other. Hardworthy had begun his position as Muggle Studies teacher two years ago, first filling in for Constance Vennily, the former teacher, who had gone on leave, and then gaining the permanent position when Vennily had decided to retire altogether. Hardworthy, though having studied his subject quite thoroughly, was as a magic-born wizard lacking in some of the nuances of muggle culture.
'Do you mean you would ask him to leave?' Sprout asked, intrigued. Not very many members of staff at Hogwarts had been fired.
'I am considering many options, Esmerelda,' the old man said, rising to leave. 'There are more factors to be thought of.'
With a nod of goodbye, the headmaster left the room, leaving a trail of melancholy behind him.
Later, sitting on the headmaster's personal terrace after dinner and watching the sun go down, McGonagall contemplated her old friend.
'Are you really considering getting rid of Manuel Hardworthy?' she asked.
Dumbledore inclined his head. 'It may be time for that young man to move on. Don't think you weren't the only one to notice just how many of his class schedules were written in the hand of Hermione Granger.'
'She did seem to take a particular interest in that class,' McGonagall acknowledged. 'I don't think Hardworthy's apathy for the subject pleased her,' she added with a smile.
'It may do Mr Hardworthy benefit to brush up on his subject,' Dumbledore said. 'Even if it be transfigured as a dog and living in a muggle household.'
Minerva shot him a look. 'Albus, you wouldn't do that again.'
'You must admit it's an effective method in training the art of appreciating muggles,' Dumbledore said, unrepentantly.
'I am worried, Albus,' Minerva said frankly, a few moments later. 'Hermione has talents that lie beyond the realm of teaching. While I believe the children we teach deserve nothing but the best, of course,' she added, 'I somehow feel that in future years... she might regret it.'
'I too have sensed that Miss Granger may be merely settling for teaching, Minerva,' Dumbledore said. 'Alas, it is often a young person's first path is not the right one for them.'
McGonagall looked at her old friend, his face painted with an orange glow in the sunset. 'So do you think we should try to set her on the right path?'
Dumbledore gave her a speaking look, and she dropped her gaze. 'You know the answer to that, Minerva. It would be just as disastrous for us to try and show people how to live their lives as to let them make their own mistakes; perhaps even more so.' He turned his head to the sunset, and the two of them sat silently for a while. Eventually, he looked back to his companion.
'These are dangerous times. We are on the verge of war, and no matter the outcome the lives of those involved in the wizarding world will soon change forever.' Dumbledore looked down at his hands, and McGonagall saw for once the uncertain young man that he had once been, before he had learnt to walk and speak with authority.
'Hogwarts will be the hub of our fight against the dark,' he said quietly. 'It surely will. Perhaps it will not be such a bad thing to have one more pair of talented hands at our disposal. And after...' He looked up at his friend. 'Hermione will make her own way, I am sure. We will give her time.'
***
The moon was low in the sky and the light of the sun just fading when Ailie and Under emerged from their daylight refuge. Under followed Ailie to the top of a nearby hill and silently sat on the ground beside her as she took several items out of a satchel.
'So... why are we doing this again?' he asked.
Ailie smiled, setting three vials out in front of her. 'I want to give them a present.' She picked up a small bag and held it in front of her, closing her eyes and muttering a short incantation. She pulled it back to her, kissing it before turning it upside down and letting a small trail of sand fall from it, forming intricate patterns on the ground in front of her.
'Yes, I understand that,' Under said, bringing one knee up to his chest and leaning on it. 'But don't you think they might look on this as... less than a gift?'
'You don't know them,' Ailie said calmly, opening each of the vials in turn and dripping the oily contents on the sand. She muttered under her breath as she drew patterns in the air over the sand. 'They don't think like we do. They'll flutter about it for years and not have any fun.' Under raised his eyebrows, and Ailie shrugged. 'Besides,' she added, 'they won't even know it was me. They'll just think it was all a dream- believe me, these two are amazing when it comes to ignoring things. Now let me concentrate.'
Under sat back as Ailie leant forward, closing his eyes as he listened to her chant. Ailie swept her hands over the patterns of sand, touching here and there, bringing her fingers to touch her forehead and draw the spell out of her. There was a shift of energies as the spell settled into place. With a smile, she blew gently over the sand patterns, causing them to lift up and disperse into the air, heading back in the direction they had come. Under looked up and followed her gaze.
'Done playing, are we?' he asked. Ailie nodded, dusting off her hands and standing up.
'I like playing Sandman,' she said. Under looked at her, puzzled. She shook her head in exasperation. Adjusting back to Wiccan ways was more difficult than she'd expected. 'Forget it,' she told him.
Refreshed and renewed, the two continued on their journey home.
***
Hermione stared out into the black night. The second longest day of the year was over, and she felt as though she had experienced every single second of it.
Though she was tired, a restless energy buzzed within her. She wondered how far Ailie and Under had got by now; the way Under had explained it, they would be travelling at a fair rate during the dark hours. It felt like Ailie was very far away. A couple of times during the day Hermione had almost gone to talk to Snape, just to make sure Ailie was safe. Though she was quite familiar with the feeling of friends going off into danger, this was the first time one was not going to come back. It was too dangerous for Ailie to give any sign of where she was, if she was all right.
Shaking her head, Hermione moved away from the window. As much as she wanted some confirmation that Ailie was safe, she knew it was impossible. She had to find some way to keep her mind off a situation that could not be resolved.
Wanting to feel close to Ailie again in some way, she walked into her bathroom and sat down at the vanity table. On it sat a cute little bottle, full of a scented oil Ailie had mixed as a goodbye present. Hermione had found it there when she finally returned to her rooms last night, exhausted and slightly confused by all that had happened. She uncorked the little bottle now, bringing it tentatively to her nose. Three scents. Jasmine, a touch of patchouli and... something else she couldn't quite place. It smelt quite like rose, but had an element to it that she didn't fully recognise...
***
'Virgin rose,' Ailie said with a grin, breathing in the scents of the night. 'I thought it was particularly appropriate for Hermione.' Walking beside her, Under merely raised his eyebrows.
'So, jasmine for a touch of adventure, patchouli for faithfulness, and the petals of an unopened bud, plucked in the darkest pit of the night and crushed in a moss-lined chalice,' he said, after some consideration. 'Love spells, Ailie? I always thought I was the romantic one.'
'You know very well that mixture isn't a love spell unless it's prepared as a draught,' Ailie said, narrowing her eyes at her friend. 'It's just... an inducement. Every time Hermione wears it, she'll feel special. More confident. Loved.'
'And you have a handy little way to enact any spell you please on her.' Ailie glared at him, and he spread his hands in supplication. 'Not that you would ever do anything to hurt her, I know.'
'It's just a way for me to keep an eye on her,' Ailie explained, with a small shrug. 'She needs a lot more help than you or I do.
'You had just better hope that nobody licks her skin, that's all,' Under warned.
Ailie rolled her eyes. 'If they were at that stage, a love spell would be a little superfluous, don't you think?' Under shrugged his reply.
Conversation ceased as they began to scale a hill, and breath was used for better purposes.
***
Hermione rubbed the oil into the sensitive spots behind her ears, and felt the pulses on her wrists as the oil seeped in there too. It had a quiet scent, she decided; one that didn't intrude on the senses, but lurked in the background, its presence familiar and quiet. Yet another example of Ailie's skill to match a scent to her so well. Still, she wished she could place that last scent.
With a sigh, Hermione rose and moved into the bedroom. Slipping into her night clothes, she lay down in bed, watching the stars twinkle in their replicated sky and feeling the soft night breeze from the open windows.
She drifted off to sleep, and therefore missed noting the fact that she hadn't actually left any windows open.
***
'Okay, smarty pants,' Under said, puffing slightly as they crested the hill and began their descent. 'So how does Snapey-poos link up to all this? You didn't make some special oil for him, too?'
Ailie pulled a face. 'Ugh. No. He'd never trust me enough to wear it, for a start. Anyway, I have a link to him, remember? All I have to do is act as a conductor between the two.'
'You'll be in the dream as well?'
Ailie screwed up her face at that extremely unwelcome mental picture. 'Ew, not that again. No!' she yelled, and Under grinned. 'That was a low trick, Un. No, thankfully all I had to do was wind them up in the spell. I could steal a bit of essence from Snape's consciousness, and a bit from Hermione. The way they are with each other, it was easy enough to wrap them up in each other anyway. Hardly took any sort of pushing at all.'
'Hmm.' The conversation paused for a few minutes as the two had to jump down a tricky precipice. 'You sure you don't want to be there for the dream?' he asked, finally.
Ailie glared at him and poked him with a finger. 'I am quite happy observing my own sex life, Under. I have no wish to participate in others'.'
'Observing your own sex life?' Under asked, walking ahead of her. 'From where? Mt Everest?'
Ailie took off after him. 'I'll get you for that, Under Neverglen!'
***
In his own rooms, Snape stared at the flickering fire in front of him. The solace of a fire was not something he sought very often, but he had felt strangely in need of it tonight.
It had been a long day. Robbed of the usual occupation of menacing students, Snape had spent the first day of his holiday doing... nothing. There was simply nothing to do. All his stores were stocked well, all of his marks had been turned in before the end of term, and he had none of his own work to move on with. Even his work with Hermione had been strangely absent today; he had seen nothing of her the whole day, and vaguely wondered if the events of the night before had unsettled her.
As they had him. Somehow, he had expected to feel more discomfort with the remembrance of his actions of the night before, but he was surprisingly at ease with the memory. He supposed the idea that he had kissed a fairly beautiful and intelligent young woman and she had failed to run screaming down the corridor was a comforting one. Although perhaps not to her.
Inwardly, he shook his head. How strange things seemed sometimes. For once happy to be untroubled by reminiscence, he reached for a book at the side of his chair and began to read. Soon, his head rested on his shoulder; he was asleep.
***
Hermione shifted in her sleep, breathing in the gentle scent of jasmine and patchouli and roses. Her skin tingled as she was drawn deeper into slumber.
The swathes of sleep slowly moved aside and she became aware of a room. She sensed soft white sheets, tangled and surrounding her, and felt the warmth of skin pressed against her. She turned, and felt the pressure of a hairy leg slide across her thigh, the warmth of a firm hand sliding over her back. A part of her was at first puzzled by the situation, but the feeling passed, to be replaced with the feeling of rightness singular to dreams. She reached up and claimed the lips of the man who held her, entirely comfortable with the way their naked bodies melded together.
***
Snape leant down and breathed in the unique scent of Hermione's hair as he slid his hands down her back. The comfort, the familiarity of her lips lulling him into a sensual peace was totally acceptable in this warm, white world. He felt her stretch against him and moved to kiss her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin behind her ear and smiling as he felt her familiar shiver. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he took the opportunity to pull her closer, revelling in the tingle of her naked skin on his as he slid a leg in between hers, wrapping himself in her.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he reflected that this was one hell of a dream, but with a mental shrug he gave himself up to it. He devoured his lover's mouth, running his hands over her as she squirmed against him, pulling her over him so that he could join with her, making them one at last...
***
'Good thing you didn't use that dream-potion thing again, though,' Under said, as they paused to rest beside a trickling brook. 'Sounded like that had dangerous consequences.'
Ailie nodded. She had explained to Under all about the tricks she and Hermione had pulled on Snape in the time she had been at Hogwarts, knowing her mischievous friend would appreciate a good joke.
'This way is a lot easier, in many ways,' she said. 'And they get to both participate in it, of course. A perfect situation, really.'
'A dream,' Under agreed. With a nod, he stood up, and offered Ailie a hand. 'I'm still confused about how you linked them; dreams are not exactly the easiest things to conjure, especially reciprocal ones.'
Ailie stood, and frowned. 'You know, that's the strange thing,' she said, dusting off her trousers. 'The energies were just sitting there, waiting. It's like their souls were already knitted together- I just had to give them a bit of a push. Interesting, though,' she added, with a contemplative smile. 'Herm told me about this dream she had when she and Snape were trapped in the genius bottle. It sounded... well, I believe Hermione may be able to sense future echoes.'
Her friend raised his eyebrows in the dark.
***
Hermione leant down and kissed her lover tenderly, smiling as her long hair got in the way. He reached up and brushed it out of their way, just like he always did, his smile glowing to her in the dark. His expression sobered as he pulled her down for another lingering kiss, their breaths coming fast now as they moved together. She felt him wrap his arms around her tightly as he rolled them over. She shivered at the warmth of his breath in her ear, clutching him tightly as he murmured tender words to her. Desperately, she turned her head to taste his lips again.
They moved rhythmically together, clutching at each other as the white sheets swirled around them. Hermione's mind was whirling with sensation, unable to rest on anything else. Their breathing became attuned, hearts beating and endlessly marking time together.
***
'Shame it's just a dream,' Under said.
'It'll melt away by morning,' Ailie replied.
***
Snape stretched, vaguely aware that he was in bed. He remembered white, and warmth; two things he usually didn't find together. He remembered some delicious scent... something to do with roses. He closed his eyes and leant back. His cheek brushed the pillow and he was reminded of a familiar warm softness. Ah, yes. His face lit up with a faint smile as the sense of the dream came back to him, and he buried himself in it once more, unwilling to give it up so soon.
Light was just filtering through the small windows at the top of his wall when he awoke again. He blinked blearily, feeling strangely refreshed. The sheets tangled with his legs as he tried to get up, and he frowned. It wasn't often that he made his unconscious way from his chair to his bed, but with a shrug, he let it go. It had obviously done him some good to sleep in a bed, for once.
Hermione also rose early, preparing for the day with an eagerness she hadn't expected. She dabbed some more of Ailie's oil on her pulse points before heading down for an early breakfast.
Snape was already seated when Hermione entered, and was indeed the only other person present at such an early hour. The other teachers tended to make the most of holiday hours as soon as they occupied them, usually arriving mid-morning for breakfast if they arrived at all. With a mental shrug, Hermione headed for the seat next to the potions master, risking a smile at him as she sat. He nodded in turn, unusually relaxed for such an early morning.
She opened up the topic of their research, and the chatted cosily for the rest of the meal.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Hermione rose almost with the sun, unable to sleep. Today, all of the children would return to their homes, leaving the castle near-empty. Most of the staff would return to their homes, visiting family or, in many cases, taking the opportunity to travel. Though they would most likely use the castle as a home base over the summer, the staff were free to pursue their own lives from today.
Which left Hermione in an interesting position. She had received no sign of any invitation to stay on at Hogwarts. In a few days, all of the teachers would submit their evaluation of her to her college, who would then make their decision on giving her her degree. She had few worries in that corner- the only person who would be likely to give her a bad report would be Snape, and the two of them had been getting along relatively well lately.
The topic of Snape made Hermione blush as she thought of their kiss the night before. The whole event smacked of the unreal, now. She could almost think she had imagined it, except now she had the sure certainty of what Severus Snape tasted like imprinted in her mind, knew how the stubble on his chin felt against her skin, knew the pulse of his throat, beating so strongly she couldn't tell if it was her own as well. She also knew that it would be a good idea to put such remeniscences out of her mind- if they were to work together, if they weren't to work together, if they were locked up in a room again for three weeks, he would never mention it.
And the topic might never come up anyway. There was absolutely no reason for her to remain at Hogwarts. Where else she could go, she didn't know- her parents, fully confident that their grown-up daighter could continue to look after herself, had sold their old house and bought a much more pleasant, but much smaller, house in Reading. She could camp out in the spare room, but the idea didn't appeal. Ron and Ginny had offered their flat for her use, but even Hermione knew that 'any time she wanted' was an invitation to trouble when it came to staying with friends. Harry was unable to accomodate her, her bank account couldn't carry her very far... Basically, her lack of planning, getting caught up in life at Hogwarts, could land her in a sticky situation.
Hermione sighed. She would probably be okay. There were quite a few people, she knew, who would want their children tutored over the summer, brushing up on subjects for the coming year. She could probably even travel to France, teaching English there. It could all turn out to be a big adventure.
So why did it all depress her so horribly?
***
Minerva McGonagall was putting the final touches on some student reports when a knock sounded at her door. Before she could give permission to enter, the door was swept open by a rather jubilant Professor Sprout who then ensconced herself in a chair before the desk.
'I don't believe I've seen you this energetic for months, Esmerelda,' Minerva said, laying her quill down on the desk.
'I just sent off the last lot of the students,' Sprout replied happily. She raised an eyebrow at her colleague. 'A task I noticed you managed to get out of.'
'I did my part early this morning in making sure all my Gryffindors were packed and ready to depart,' McGonagall said dryly, 'I failed to notice your cheery face that early.'
Sprout snorted, slumping in her chair. 'Well,' she said. 'Anyway, the important thing is that they're gone. No more mysterious rashes or sudden explosions in my greenhouses for three whole months!'
'Are you planning to travel this year at all?' McGonagall asked.
Sprout nodded. 'I had a letter from a colleague in Africa- apparently she's been finding some intriguing samples of Herbstone in the jungles there. I thought I'd take a look,' she explained, looking down to study her nails. Minerva looked at her with narrowed eyes.
'No bringing back any samples, Esme,' she cautioned, giving her friend a stern look. 'And that means dried as well. We get in enough trouble every year with the Ministry as it is.'
'I was just going to bring back some supplies for Poppy-' Sprout began, looking cowed, but was cut off by Minerva's raised hand.
'All of which Poppy can get through legal means,' McGonagall said. 'No.'
Another knock interrupted their conversation, and both turned to see the headmaster peek around the door.
'Ah, Minerva, Esmerelda,' he said, smiling as he entered the room. 'It's good to catch both of you. I just wanted to remind both of you that young Miss Granger's reviews are due back to her college as soon as possible.' Minerva motioned for him to take a seat, and he did.
'Well, that'll be easy,' Esmerelda said, leaning back. 'Hermione was quite good in my classes, especially when it came to helping the children who were struggling. I won't be recommending her for my position, of course,' she smiled, 'but her skills as a teacher are well formed.'
'Hermione did remarkably well with the students she was tutoring in my class,' McGonagall said. 'She's always been good with troubled students.'
Dumbledore raised his hands. 'Save it for your reports, please, ladies. I am in complete agreement.'
Sprout leant toward Dumbledore, looking at him curiously. 'So,' she said. 'What are we going to do about our young ex-student?' Dumbledore sighed, and glanced at Minerva, who looked put down also.
'The trouble is, we have no vacancies at the moment,' she said, and Sprout nodded sympathetically. As much as she liked Hermione, a young, fairly inexperienced graduate hadn't the clout to push someone else from their position.
Dumbledore moved slightly, and Sprout looked over to see a contemplative expression on his face.
'Manuel Hardworthy has been showing some signs of strain in his position,' the headmaster said, and his two companions raised their eyebrows at each other. Hardworthy had begun his position as Muggle Studies teacher two years ago, first filling in for Constance Vennily, the former teacher, who had gone on leave, and then gaining the permanent position when Vennily had decided to retire altogether. Hardworthy, though having studied his subject quite thoroughly, was as a magic-born wizard lacking in some of the nuances of muggle culture.
'Do you mean you would ask him to leave?' Sprout asked, intrigued. Not very many members of staff at Hogwarts had been fired.
'I am considering many options, Esmerelda,' the old man said, rising to leave. 'There are more factors to be thought of.'
With a nod of goodbye, the headmaster left the room, leaving a trail of melancholy behind him.
Later, sitting on the headmaster's personal terrace after dinner and watching the sun go down, McGonagall contemplated her old friend.
'Are you really considering getting rid of Manuel Hardworthy?' she asked.
Dumbledore inclined his head. 'It may be time for that young man to move on. Don't think you weren't the only one to notice just how many of his class schedules were written in the hand of Hermione Granger.'
'She did seem to take a particular interest in that class,' McGonagall acknowledged. 'I don't think Hardworthy's apathy for the subject pleased her,' she added with a smile.
'It may do Mr Hardworthy benefit to brush up on his subject,' Dumbledore said. 'Even if it be transfigured as a dog and living in a muggle household.'
Minerva shot him a look. 'Albus, you wouldn't do that again.'
'You must admit it's an effective method in training the art of appreciating muggles,' Dumbledore said, unrepentantly.
'I am worried, Albus,' Minerva said frankly, a few moments later. 'Hermione has talents that lie beyond the realm of teaching. While I believe the children we teach deserve nothing but the best, of course,' she added, 'I somehow feel that in future years... she might regret it.'
'I too have sensed that Miss Granger may be merely settling for teaching, Minerva,' Dumbledore said. 'Alas, it is often a young person's first path is not the right one for them.'
McGonagall looked at her old friend, his face painted with an orange glow in the sunset. 'So do you think we should try to set her on the right path?'
Dumbledore gave her a speaking look, and she dropped her gaze. 'You know the answer to that, Minerva. It would be just as disastrous for us to try and show people how to live their lives as to let them make their own mistakes; perhaps even more so.' He turned his head to the sunset, and the two of them sat silently for a while. Eventually, he looked back to his companion.
'These are dangerous times. We are on the verge of war, and no matter the outcome the lives of those involved in the wizarding world will soon change forever.' Dumbledore looked down at his hands, and McGonagall saw for once the uncertain young man that he had once been, before he had learnt to walk and speak with authority.
'Hogwarts will be the hub of our fight against the dark,' he said quietly. 'It surely will. Perhaps it will not be such a bad thing to have one more pair of talented hands at our disposal. And after...' He looked up at his friend. 'Hermione will make her own way, I am sure. We will give her time.'
***
The moon was low in the sky and the light of the sun just fading when Ailie and Under emerged from their daylight refuge. Under followed Ailie to the top of a nearby hill and silently sat on the ground beside her as she took several items out of a satchel.
'So... why are we doing this again?' he asked.
Ailie smiled, setting three vials out in front of her. 'I want to give them a present.' She picked up a small bag and held it in front of her, closing her eyes and muttering a short incantation. She pulled it back to her, kissing it before turning it upside down and letting a small trail of sand fall from it, forming intricate patterns on the ground in front of her.
'Yes, I understand that,' Under said, bringing one knee up to his chest and leaning on it. 'But don't you think they might look on this as... less than a gift?'
'You don't know them,' Ailie said calmly, opening each of the vials in turn and dripping the oily contents on the sand. She muttered under her breath as she drew patterns in the air over the sand. 'They don't think like we do. They'll flutter about it for years and not have any fun.' Under raised his eyebrows, and Ailie shrugged. 'Besides,' she added, 'they won't even know it was me. They'll just think it was all a dream- believe me, these two are amazing when it comes to ignoring things. Now let me concentrate.'
Under sat back as Ailie leant forward, closing his eyes as he listened to her chant. Ailie swept her hands over the patterns of sand, touching here and there, bringing her fingers to touch her forehead and draw the spell out of her. There was a shift of energies as the spell settled into place. With a smile, she blew gently over the sand patterns, causing them to lift up and disperse into the air, heading back in the direction they had come. Under looked up and followed her gaze.
'Done playing, are we?' he asked. Ailie nodded, dusting off her hands and standing up.
'I like playing Sandman,' she said. Under looked at her, puzzled. She shook her head in exasperation. Adjusting back to Wiccan ways was more difficult than she'd expected. 'Forget it,' she told him.
Refreshed and renewed, the two continued on their journey home.
***
Hermione stared out into the black night. The second longest day of the year was over, and she felt as though she had experienced every single second of it.
Though she was tired, a restless energy buzzed within her. She wondered how far Ailie and Under had got by now; the way Under had explained it, they would be travelling at a fair rate during the dark hours. It felt like Ailie was very far away. A couple of times during the day Hermione had almost gone to talk to Snape, just to make sure Ailie was safe. Though she was quite familiar with the feeling of friends going off into danger, this was the first time one was not going to come back. It was too dangerous for Ailie to give any sign of where she was, if she was all right.
Shaking her head, Hermione moved away from the window. As much as she wanted some confirmation that Ailie was safe, she knew it was impossible. She had to find some way to keep her mind off a situation that could not be resolved.
Wanting to feel close to Ailie again in some way, she walked into her bathroom and sat down at the vanity table. On it sat a cute little bottle, full of a scented oil Ailie had mixed as a goodbye present. Hermione had found it there when she finally returned to her rooms last night, exhausted and slightly confused by all that had happened. She uncorked the little bottle now, bringing it tentatively to her nose. Three scents. Jasmine, a touch of patchouli and... something else she couldn't quite place. It smelt quite like rose, but had an element to it that she didn't fully recognise...
***
'Virgin rose,' Ailie said with a grin, breathing in the scents of the night. 'I thought it was particularly appropriate for Hermione.' Walking beside her, Under merely raised his eyebrows.
'So, jasmine for a touch of adventure, patchouli for faithfulness, and the petals of an unopened bud, plucked in the darkest pit of the night and crushed in a moss-lined chalice,' he said, after some consideration. 'Love spells, Ailie? I always thought I was the romantic one.'
'You know very well that mixture isn't a love spell unless it's prepared as a draught,' Ailie said, narrowing her eyes at her friend. 'It's just... an inducement. Every time Hermione wears it, she'll feel special. More confident. Loved.'
'And you have a handy little way to enact any spell you please on her.' Ailie glared at him, and he spread his hands in supplication. 'Not that you would ever do anything to hurt her, I know.'
'It's just a way for me to keep an eye on her,' Ailie explained, with a small shrug. 'She needs a lot more help than you or I do.
'You had just better hope that nobody licks her skin, that's all,' Under warned.
Ailie rolled her eyes. 'If they were at that stage, a love spell would be a little superfluous, don't you think?' Under shrugged his reply.
Conversation ceased as they began to scale a hill, and breath was used for better purposes.
***
Hermione rubbed the oil into the sensitive spots behind her ears, and felt the pulses on her wrists as the oil seeped in there too. It had a quiet scent, she decided; one that didn't intrude on the senses, but lurked in the background, its presence familiar and quiet. Yet another example of Ailie's skill to match a scent to her so well. Still, she wished she could place that last scent.
With a sigh, Hermione rose and moved into the bedroom. Slipping into her night clothes, she lay down in bed, watching the stars twinkle in their replicated sky and feeling the soft night breeze from the open windows.
She drifted off to sleep, and therefore missed noting the fact that she hadn't actually left any windows open.
***
'Okay, smarty pants,' Under said, puffing slightly as they crested the hill and began their descent. 'So how does Snapey-poos link up to all this? You didn't make some special oil for him, too?'
Ailie pulled a face. 'Ugh. No. He'd never trust me enough to wear it, for a start. Anyway, I have a link to him, remember? All I have to do is act as a conductor between the two.'
'You'll be in the dream as well?'
Ailie screwed up her face at that extremely unwelcome mental picture. 'Ew, not that again. No!' she yelled, and Under grinned. 'That was a low trick, Un. No, thankfully all I had to do was wind them up in the spell. I could steal a bit of essence from Snape's consciousness, and a bit from Hermione. The way they are with each other, it was easy enough to wrap them up in each other anyway. Hardly took any sort of pushing at all.'
'Hmm.' The conversation paused for a few minutes as the two had to jump down a tricky precipice. 'You sure you don't want to be there for the dream?' he asked, finally.
Ailie glared at him and poked him with a finger. 'I am quite happy observing my own sex life, Under. I have no wish to participate in others'.'
'Observing your own sex life?' Under asked, walking ahead of her. 'From where? Mt Everest?'
Ailie took off after him. 'I'll get you for that, Under Neverglen!'
***
In his own rooms, Snape stared at the flickering fire in front of him. The solace of a fire was not something he sought very often, but he had felt strangely in need of it tonight.
It had been a long day. Robbed of the usual occupation of menacing students, Snape had spent the first day of his holiday doing... nothing. There was simply nothing to do. All his stores were stocked well, all of his marks had been turned in before the end of term, and he had none of his own work to move on with. Even his work with Hermione had been strangely absent today; he had seen nothing of her the whole day, and vaguely wondered if the events of the night before had unsettled her.
As they had him. Somehow, he had expected to feel more discomfort with the remembrance of his actions of the night before, but he was surprisingly at ease with the memory. He supposed the idea that he had kissed a fairly beautiful and intelligent young woman and she had failed to run screaming down the corridor was a comforting one. Although perhaps not to her.
Inwardly, he shook his head. How strange things seemed sometimes. For once happy to be untroubled by reminiscence, he reached for a book at the side of his chair and began to read. Soon, his head rested on his shoulder; he was asleep.
***
Hermione shifted in her sleep, breathing in the gentle scent of jasmine and patchouli and roses. Her skin tingled as she was drawn deeper into slumber.
The swathes of sleep slowly moved aside and she became aware of a room. She sensed soft white sheets, tangled and surrounding her, and felt the warmth of skin pressed against her. She turned, and felt the pressure of a hairy leg slide across her thigh, the warmth of a firm hand sliding over her back. A part of her was at first puzzled by the situation, but the feeling passed, to be replaced with the feeling of rightness singular to dreams. She reached up and claimed the lips of the man who held her, entirely comfortable with the way their naked bodies melded together.
***
Snape leant down and breathed in the unique scent of Hermione's hair as he slid his hands down her back. The comfort, the familiarity of her lips lulling him into a sensual peace was totally acceptable in this warm, white world. He felt her stretch against him and moved to kiss her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin behind her ear and smiling as he felt her familiar shiver. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he took the opportunity to pull her closer, revelling in the tingle of her naked skin on his as he slid a leg in between hers, wrapping himself in her.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he reflected that this was one hell of a dream, but with a mental shrug he gave himself up to it. He devoured his lover's mouth, running his hands over her as she squirmed against him, pulling her over him so that he could join with her, making them one at last...
***
'Good thing you didn't use that dream-potion thing again, though,' Under said, as they paused to rest beside a trickling brook. 'Sounded like that had dangerous consequences.'
Ailie nodded. She had explained to Under all about the tricks she and Hermione had pulled on Snape in the time she had been at Hogwarts, knowing her mischievous friend would appreciate a good joke.
'This way is a lot easier, in many ways,' she said. 'And they get to both participate in it, of course. A perfect situation, really.'
'A dream,' Under agreed. With a nod, he stood up, and offered Ailie a hand. 'I'm still confused about how you linked them; dreams are not exactly the easiest things to conjure, especially reciprocal ones.'
Ailie stood, and frowned. 'You know, that's the strange thing,' she said, dusting off her trousers. 'The energies were just sitting there, waiting. It's like their souls were already knitted together- I just had to give them a bit of a push. Interesting, though,' she added, with a contemplative smile. 'Herm told me about this dream she had when she and Snape were trapped in the genius bottle. It sounded... well, I believe Hermione may be able to sense future echoes.'
Her friend raised his eyebrows in the dark.
***
Hermione leant down and kissed her lover tenderly, smiling as her long hair got in the way. He reached up and brushed it out of their way, just like he always did, his smile glowing to her in the dark. His expression sobered as he pulled her down for another lingering kiss, their breaths coming fast now as they moved together. She felt him wrap his arms around her tightly as he rolled them over. She shivered at the warmth of his breath in her ear, clutching him tightly as he murmured tender words to her. Desperately, she turned her head to taste his lips again.
They moved rhythmically together, clutching at each other as the white sheets swirled around them. Hermione's mind was whirling with sensation, unable to rest on anything else. Their breathing became attuned, hearts beating and endlessly marking time together.
***
'Shame it's just a dream,' Under said.
'It'll melt away by morning,' Ailie replied.
***
Snape stretched, vaguely aware that he was in bed. He remembered white, and warmth; two things he usually didn't find together. He remembered some delicious scent... something to do with roses. He closed his eyes and leant back. His cheek brushed the pillow and he was reminded of a familiar warm softness. Ah, yes. His face lit up with a faint smile as the sense of the dream came back to him, and he buried himself in it once more, unwilling to give it up so soon.
Light was just filtering through the small windows at the top of his wall when he awoke again. He blinked blearily, feeling strangely refreshed. The sheets tangled with his legs as he tried to get up, and he frowned. It wasn't often that he made his unconscious way from his chair to his bed, but with a shrug, he let it go. It had obviously done him some good to sleep in a bed, for once.
Hermione also rose early, preparing for the day with an eagerness she hadn't expected. She dabbed some more of Ailie's oil on her pulse points before heading down for an early breakfast.
Snape was already seated when Hermione entered, and was indeed the only other person present at such an early hour. The other teachers tended to make the most of holiday hours as soon as they occupied them, usually arriving mid-morning for breakfast if they arrived at all. With a mental shrug, Hermione headed for the seat next to the potions master, risking a smile at him as she sat. He nodded in turn, unusually relaxed for such an early morning.
She opened up the topic of their research, and the chatted cosily for the rest of the meal.