Ghost—Chapter 8
Hermione quickly shut the door to her bedroom and warded it with some of the strongest locking charms known to wizardkind. She was fully aware of the fact that the spells couldn't keep ghosts out, but having that level of security made her feel that much safer.
She had not looked in her Penseive ever since she had put her memories in there; the reason why she had gotten the blasted thing was to forget the final battle. It wasn't uncommon; many of the combatants who had survived the battle had gotten a Penseive so that they could store their memories, ensuring that they wouldn't me haunted by them in their nightmares.
Truthfully, Hermione couldn't remember exactly what she had screamed at Bellatrix that night; she knew she had been upset, frighteningly so. Now that she knew exactly what she had said, one question was eating at her brain: Had she really loved Snape and, if she had, when the hell did it happen? She was almost positive that she hadn't admitted her feelings before then, and she knew she hadn't acknowledged them afterwards. After all, what was the point? The man was dead, after all. However, she knew where she could get a few hints: her diary.
While Hermione was flipping through the slightly yellowing parchment pages of her diary, Snape was still hovering in Hermione's sitting room, bewildered beyond belief. He had no indication beforehand that Hermione had feelings for him, and might still feel the same way.
When he had first suggested that she try and bring him back to life, he only did it to bother her, suggesting that she had nothing better to do than to research. He had had no idea that Hermione would actually take the task to heart, even delving into the Dark Arts to find a means of bringing him back. Had he known that she would go that far for him, he wouldn't have suggested it, instead harassing her about her school days and her large teeth, frizzy hair and the fact that she couldn't seem to sit still very long in any of her classes.
But what perplexed him most was not the declaration of love in the Penseive, but Hermione's reaction to it after she had seen it. It was like she hadn't remembered it. Snape knew that sometimes people said things in the heat of the moment but they didn't really mean it, and he supposed that was the case here. However, there was just something about the passion she had while saying it that made it impossible for him to let it go and drop the issue.
He also wondered when these feelings, if they were true, had come out. The two of them had worked together within the Order; when he was outed as a spy about half a year before Voldemort's downfall, he had been switched to research with Hermione, who had turned out very efficient in her methods.
One question remained; did he feel the same way? He wasn't sure, to say the least. He had only known her in the capacity of a student, and he couldn't get too close to her because of the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry and the fact that he was her teacher and a relationship that was more than a student-teacher arrangement would be highly inappropriate. However, his opinion had changed ever so slightly since she had moved into the dungeons so that she could take the Potions professorship. Snape still didn't know how he felt, though.
Hermione was still looking through her diary, trying to find hints on when her feelings for Snape had come about. So far, she hadn't really found anything of note; the most she could find were the rants that Snape was the worst research partner ever, always criticizing her work and belittling her intelligence. Maybe the line between love and hate is really thin after all, Hermione thought as she flipped through the pages. With a frustrated sigh, Hermione placed the book in her drawer before turning the lamps low and going to sleep after a very long day.
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Hermione tossed and turned all night, and when her alarm clock rang at six thirty, she felt as if she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. Groaning slightly, she rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. However, she knew that that wouldn't happen, so with a sigh she got out of bed and padded over to her wardrobe.
As Hermione was gathering her teaching supplies, she wondered where Snape was. He usually had come to bother her by now. With a shrug, she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for her classroom, skipping breakfast altogether.
Hermione sat in her desk, marking essays. They were third-year Slytherin and Ravenclaw work, and Hermione was appalled at the poor quality. It was something she had expected from the Slytherins, but definitely not the Ravenclaws. With a frustrated sigh, she threw her quill down and banged her forehead on the desktop.
"You know, it's more effective if you pick up the quill and actually do some work," Snape said. Hermione looked up and glared at the ghost, who was trying very hard not to laugh.
"What's so funny?" asked Hermione. Snape finally lost it, and was laughing openly, pointing at her forehead. "I have red ink on my face, don't I? Oh bugger." Hermione pointed her wand at her forehead and muttered a cleaning charm. Snape was wiping away ghostly tears of mirth as his laughter was subsiding.
"I'm sorry Hermione, but it was too good to resist," he said. "You know, if the essays are that horrid, you could just throw them in the fire and say they were destroyed in a Potions accident in your private lab."
"I'm not going to lie to my students," Hermione said primly, dipping her quill into the well of red ink and began correcting the essays again. "It's unethical, and I'd feel horrid with myself for the rest of my days."
"Ah yes, the famed Gryffindor sense of duty and nobleness," Snape said with a sneer. Hermione flinched; this was the first time he had been remotely unkind to her in a very long time. Frankly, she didn't like it at all.
"Look, Severus, do you have a point to your visit?" Hermione asked, looking up at the ghost. "Because if you don't, kindly remove yourself from my classroom so I can actually get some work done."
"Actually, there was a point," Snape said. "I was wondering what motivated your decision to bring me back to life. If I had known you would actually attempt it, I would have thought twice before suggesting it."
"I would think that was obvious," Hermione replied. "After all, you saw my Penseive. You saw my reaction to your murder. You heard the declaration of love spill from my lips as I beat the crap out of Bellatrix Lestrange. If that's not a plain enough reason, then I don't know what is."
"But when did these feelings come about?" asked Snape. He knew he was going out on a limb on this, and he knew it was extremely out of character on his part, but he needed to have his curiosity sated. "After all, you gave no indication at all that you felt anything more than animosity towards me. Most girls would have been all fluttering and swooning and flirting and other disgusting nonsense."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not like most girls," Hermione replied.
"Indeed," remarked Snape as his ghostly gaze bore into her, making her shift in her seat uncomfortably.
"I guess I didn't realize it until I saw your lifeless body fell to the ground," Hermione said, more to herself than anyone else. Snape had to strain his ears to hear what she was saying. "The thought that you were gone clicked with me, and I realized that I couldn't live without you, even if you were a cantankerous, bitter and sarcastic man. I guess the old adage is true; you don't know what you have until it's gone."
Snape didn't have a chance to reply, because at that moment the fifth year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class filtered in, and he felt it wasn't a good idea to discuss personal matters in front of the children. He shot Hermione a look plainly saying that they needed to discuss this further. Hermione nodded imperceptibly in his direction before beginning her class. After surveying the studious children for a moment, Snape floated out of the room to wander the castle until they met again.
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Snape reappeared in the classroom at lunchtime, surprised to see Hermione sitting at her desk, going over an assignment with one of her students.
"But Professor Granger, this point is correct," the boy said, pointing to one of the questions. Hermione glanced at it before launching into an explanation of what a bezoar was, where it was found and what it was used for. Snape looked over Hermione's shoulder to see the boy's paper, and he saw that the child had a few points, but not all of them.
"Do you get it now, Kyle?" Hermione asked, smiling at the boy kindly. The boy nodded, grinning. "Good. I expect you to get that question correct on your next quiz, alright?" The boy nodded again before taking his paper and dashing out of the room. Hermione smiled slightly before writing something on a piece of parchment. She then got up and made her way to the fireplace, only to walk right into Severus.
"Jesus tap-dancing Christ!" she gasped after she had passed through him. "Do you have to sneak up on me like that?!"
"Deepest apologies, Hermione," said Snape, bowing slightly. "I saw your work with that Ravenclaw...I'm impressed."
"A compliment from the great human bat Snape?" Hermione asked. "Now I've heard everything. Are you sure you're not going crazy in your ectoplasm state?"
"I assure you, I am just fine," Snape replied, quirking his lips into a small half-smile. "I was wondering if you had come up with a method to do the re-animating and the re-souling spells."
"It's a no-go," Hermione replied sadly. "Every single spell in all of the books require a body, and, well, yours might not be in the best condition, considering."
Snape stoked his chin thoughtfully for a moment before replying.
"There might be a way," he said. "Do you remember where my body is kept?"
"They said something about a family vault," Hermione asked. "Why?"
"There might be a way, then," Snape said. "There are many preservation spells and ancient enchantments on the family vault, keeping all of the corpses in the best possible condition. My family was very concerned with image, and the sight of a decomposing body would not do."
"Where is this vault?" Hermione asked.
"I can't quite remember, but Albus might know," Snape replied. "After all, he was the one that arranged everything, right?"
"Of course," Hermione said, remembering the preparations well. She had been in charge of flowers for some odd reason. "I'll ask him later this week. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to place my order with the house elves before lunch is up."
Without another word, Hermione brushed past the ghost to her fireplace. She tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire, followed closely by the piece of parchment. Snape took this as an indication that their conversation was over, so he took the liberty to float along on his merry way. What he didn't catch was the disappointed look that crossed Hermione's face when she turned around to see that he had left without so much as a good-bye.
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Well, here we are, chapter 8! I can't believe how many reviews I've gotten...well over 80! And the most surprising part is that 175 people have me on their Author Alert list, and over 60 have me on their favorites list! I'm so happy! –wipes away a tear-
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'll try to update as soon as I can.