CHAPTER SIX
It was hours later before Hermione stumbled into the common room with her hair disheveled and her clothes rumpled. Most people would've assumed exactly what they always did: that she snuck out at night to fuck yet another student. The glazed blankness in her face gave away a different story however, and it was something Harry noticed immediately upon her entrance. He and Ron were cuddling on the couch when they were interrupted--as usual-- by their best friend. What tipped him off was the wretching pain that started in his scar and traveled all the way down the length of his spine.
"Hermione?" He gently sat up, but refused to let go of Ron. "What's wrong?"
She said nothing as she continued to stagger into the room. It seemed as if she were heading towards the fire, but it was clear that she had no sense of what she'd run into along the way. His concern only deepened when she ran smack dab into the table behind the couch, then swerved to hit the overstuffed chair.
"Shit." He sprang to his feet, effectively knocking Ron to the floor. He advanced forward and grabbed her by the shoulders just as she was lunging forward into the fire. "Hermione, talk to me."
For a moment longer she struggled towards the fire, blankness in her eyes. Then she suddenly collapsed in his arms in a trembling, quivering mass. Shortly after her strange snap, Hermione was overcome with exhaustion and asked to be taken upstairs. She was asleep in Harry's arms before they even reached her bed.
"That was bloody frightening," Ron commented as they walked downstairs and settled onto the couch, this time not intimately. "What the hell was the matter with her?"
Harry stared at the fire a moment and shuddered. "I have no idea," Harry replied breathily. "But we've got to figure it out for her sake if nothing else."
Professor Snape stumbled into the Potions dungeon, feeling a satisfying rush as his head succombed to a dizzy high. Jesus, what was in that pipe Ginger gave him anyway? Whew. Well, whatever it was, it was the greatest stuff he'd ever smoked. Or snorted. Or injected. Or.... nevermind.
That professor... Ginger Snaps, it was... There was definitely someting different about her. At first he'd foudn her remotely attractive, but after seeing her last night, he was genuinely afraid of her. Of course, after the girl had left, the hairy-legged professor had warmed right up to him. She gave him The Stuff, whatever it was. And she'd smiled and flirted and giggled, but even in the state Snape was in, he could see something under the act. It was just a glimmer of truth in the corner of his mind, but it was there. Professor Snaps was hiding something, something dark. Snape would try to find out what it was once this incredible high went away.
What had happened to the girl anyway? Hermione, that was... she'd run away... Snaps had called out a spell, but Snape had been humming to himself and hadn't heard what it was... There was too much to think about, and not enough brain cells to spare.
He heard a crash and winced harshly as the pounding in his head reached a peak. A moment later he realized that it was him who had tripped on a chair. He was even further gone than he thought...
The door jerked open and slammed against the wall. McGonagall stomped in, with Dumbledore creakily toe-stepping behind her. McGonagal's normally calm, reserved face was flushed and worried, and her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, as if she were nervous for some reason. Snape vaguely wondered what was up with her.
"Professor Snape," she said hurriedly. "I must speak to you about a matter of utmost importance."
Snape rolled his dark, bloodshot eyes. "Well, I'm sorry dear, but I've no time." He pointed to his bong that was hovering in midair. "I've got to get to work," he added with a wink.
She quickly moved away from Dumbledore (who was breathing heavily behind her) and slammed her fists on Snape's desk. "This is not a time for games!" she spat, anger surging through every word. "This is a serious matter!" The expression on her face was so intense that he nearly backed away. Nearly, but not quite.
"All right, all right, spit it out," Snape growled lazily. "But make it quick."
McGonagal's anger faded away quickly and turned into something else. It was a strange mixture of hope, fear, and confusion. "Professor... I'm pregnant," she said softly.
The first thing that Snape did was think back as far as he could. After all, there could be a possibility that he was the father. But no... He didn't remember anything about that... "You should speak with someone else then. Perhaps the father..." he continued as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.
She frowned, but the fear was still there. "That's just it, Severus..." Her voice clogged and she cleared her throat. "I don't know who the father is."
Now that was funny. In Snape's freakishly high state, it seemed the most humorous situation in the world, in fact. He began to chuckle, and the chuckle soon turned into roaring laughter that he couldn't stop if he tried. McGonagal stared in dismay as he fell off his chair and rolled on the floor, clutching his sides, unable to stop. Finally, still chuckling hoarsely, he somehow managed to climb back onto his chair. "Well, what'd'ya need me for?" he grunted.
"Well you are the Potions master. You could do a certain test for me. A DNA test, as muggles say."
Snape considered this. "And... who would I be testing?"
McGonagal's face tightened. "The entire male population at Hogwarts."
Again, his insane laughter captured his breathing. This was going ot be a very, very long week.
Classes were cancelled the next day for unknown reasons. All any of the students were informed of was that all of the boys needed to report to the Great Hall for testing. Everyone except for Harry and Ron.
"This is bullshit!" Colin Creevey stated loudly as they walked through the giant doors. "Why do Harry and Ron get off this? And why don't the girls have to come?"
"Beats me," Seamus drawled out.
Lines were forming between the tables. All the boys were twitching nervously, murmuring possible explanations amongst themselves. Up where the head tables were, they had erected curtains to block off whatever they were conducting beyond their borders. As the line progressed and Colin got further, the white curtain finally revealed its secrets. His eyes bulged out of his head at the sight of boys peeing.
"Bloody hell," he murmured as he took it all in. Boys from all years and houses were attempting to pee in little plastic cups. About half never even hit the cup, and, heads bowed in shame, had to try again. Streak and splatters of yellow liquid dotted the floor faster than a disgusted Mr. Filch could clean it up. Most of the male teachers were monitoring the boys while McGonagal stood in the corner, wringing her hands nervously.
"Not a very good aim, are you there Wormwood?" Snape snorted as a rather terrified fourth year Ravenclaw kept missing the cup. When finally his stream had ended, the little container was only about a third full. He looke apologetically over at Snape and mumbled out, "Here, I'll try again.
But Snape held up a bony hand and waved him off. "Don't embarrass yourself."
The boy looked on the verge of tears as he zipped up his pants with trembling fingers and quickly walked away. Colin gulped in a mouthful of air as he stepped up. It was his turn.
"Ah, Mr. Creevey," his professor said uninterestedly. "Well, you know the procedure. Drop your drawers."
Colin just stood there for a long moment, staring at his teacher with a sort of disbelieving shock. Snape's gaze was fuzzy and disoriented.
"Come on now, we don't have all day," he said with a thick voice as if drunk. Colin jumped in surprise, almost as if snapped from a trance, and fumbled for his zipper.
"Try and hit the cup," Snape instructed, and beside them Professor Flitwick chuckled. Colin brushed off their comments and just concentrated on peeing. Right as the first droplets were starting to come, Snape looked down and choked on laughter. "Are you sure that thing can make it past your zipper?" he snickered, making Colin flush a deep red, barely able to aim with his shaking fingers.
He managed to fill the cup mainly, and when he dared glance back at Snape, he was happily surprised to see an expression of disbelief on the professor's face. "Very well," Snape growled. "Move on."
Smiling to himself, Colin nodded and left the Great Hall quickly without looking back. This whole charade was so surreal... Colin had to wonder what this ordeal was about. On the other hand, he was sure that all would be revealed by the end of this year at Hogwarts. Somehow it always was.
"What is going on?" Harry demanded once again, pointing at Hermione's twitching and zoned-out eyes that weren't even watching Professor Snaps's lecture on the proper application of defensive magic. "She usually can't get enough of these things."
Ron shook his head, sending his shaggy red locks flying. "Something's changed that's for sure. But you saw her face when she saw Cho and Seamus... you know. She's probably just still wiggy from that," he guessed, shrugging. "Well, more wiggy than normal." He glanced again at Hermione, but quickly gave up, rolling his eyes and forcing the worry out of his mind.
The other boy flinch at the mention of Cho's name. Cho, the girl who had gotten away. He shoved it off his mind and tried to concentrate on the sweet, perfect boyfriend he had right in front of him. Ron was all he really needed. "I don't know," Harry insisted. "She must be getting worse or something... I mean, you saw her that night." He thought back three nights ago, when this had all began. The look on her face had been so terrible. Hermione had looked tortured... caged. Harry was quite sure he'd never seen anything like it. Although there was something sort of familiar about it...
"Yeah, she was looking pretty dreadful," Ron agreed. "But what can we do?"
"Talk to her."
Ron laughed at Harry's bluntness. "That works. After class?" he suggested.
"After class," Harry assented.
He turned his attention back to Professor Snaps, whose normally cheerful disposition was rather sullen and serious today. In fact, as Harry looked closer, he saw the drag queen's overly-lined lips twitching much as Hermione's eyes were. Snaps's beady black eyes seemed to be avoiding contact with hers as well. Maybe there were troubles with their sleeping arrangement or something...
"... only use in case of a near death situation. Otherwise, you may injure an innocent spellcaster..." the Professor was saying, but this struck Harry as rather odd. This wasn't what his other teachers had told him about using defensive magic, excepting Umbridge of course. Tentatively, Harry raised his hand.
Snaps continued with his lecture for a moment before noticing him. Once Snaps noticed, he narrowed his eyes and smiled menacingly. "Potter, you have a comment?" he asked smugly.
"Yes, Professor. Well, actually it's more of a question, really. My question is, shouldn't we use defensive magic if someone is casting a non-lethal harmful spell as well? It wouldn't make sense to do it after a lethal spell had taken place. We'd be dead!" Harry pointed out.
The professor's pinched face flinched at his words, and he seemed unable to speak for amoment. Then his high voice became an inhuman growl, and Harry's scar shot with pain. "You wouldn't be dead," Snaps snapped, "if you didn't meddle with forces stronger than you. Isn't that right, Harry boy?"
It took all of Harry's self-control not to scream. Sharp, violent pinpricks of pain shot from his scar throughout his body. His scar had hurt before of course, but never like this. There was something about Snaps... But as he glanced up at the professor, another jolt of pain shocked him. He keeled over, falling off the chair, barely hearing the gasps of his classmates as his head struck the ground.
"Harry?" Ron asked anxiously, kneeling beside him and kissing his ruffled black hair. "Harry, what's wrong? Tell me!" He glanced up at Hermione, who was still blankly staring into space, and then at the professor, who was showing no sign of concern at all. "What did you do, Snaps?" Ron shouted angrily. "What did you do?"
Professor Snaps's face relaxed and became more cordial. "Nothing," he said simply, his voice once again a high-pitched squeal.
The pain in his scar was lessening, and Harry clutched his forehead and stumbled up to his feet. Ron grasped his arm for support and helped him back to his seat while everyone in class stared. "I'm fine," Harry insisted, his voice ragged. "It was just my scar."
Snaps plastered a huge, phony smile on his face before addressing the class again. "Well, if Harry is all right now, I'll continue..." he began, and went on to finish his lecture with the entire class gaping at him as if he were insane. Harry was extremely relieved when Snaps finally said those three treasured words: "You are dismissed."
Stumbling, Harry headed for the door with Ron by his side. "Hermione! Wait up!" he heard Ron say beside him, reminding him that they'd decided to talk to her after class. He'd forgotten in all his panic.
Hermione's figure, five feet ahead, stopped suddenly. Harry and Ron jogged to catch up. "What's up, Hermione?" Ron asked. "Are you okay?" Concern was etched all over his face; even in his exhausted state, Harry could appreciate how cute that was.
Her eyes met his, but they were empty, vacant. "I'm good. Let's talk about it outside," she said stiffly.
"What?" Harry asked anxiously and more quietly."Do you not want to say in front of snaps?" He glanced back at their professor, who was now zoning out, his bony hands making seemingly random jerks.
Hermione just shook her head and stomped out into the corridor. The boys followed her quickly, trying hard (but not succeeding) not to look panicked. Once they were outside, Ron laughed aloud as he came to a conclusion suddenly. "I know what it is!" Ron exclaimed. "You haven't gotten any in a few days, have you? I bet you've got sexual withdrawal or something!" He glance at Harry, looking for approval. Harry just shrugged.
But Hermione shook her head again. "You guys should just leave this alone," she muttered. "It's not big deal." Seeing their disbelief, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Don't believe me. But I've got to meet Colin by Trelawney's room. He probably wants to have sex. Again." Somehow her words seemed lifeless in a way her friends had never heard before, as if she were playing a part.
Harry watched as Ron grew angry, his face flushing beet red. "What happened to the Hermione we used to know? The one who told us everything she felt?" He gestured wildly into space. "Look, if you're hurting because of Seamus, you can tell us. We're your best friends! We'll listen..."
But she lay an unemotional hand on Ron's shoulder. "I'm not hurting. Just leave it be," she said quietly. They watched as Hermione walked away, slightly pigeon-toed.
Confusion flashed through Harry's mind. "Ron?" he asked softly. "Have you ever actually heard Hermione use the word, 'sex' before?"
"You know, I don't think I have," Ron responded, staring in shock at her retreating form.
Harry glance back at the door to their DADA class in thought. "Something weird is definitely going on here. And I think it has something to do with Snaps."
McGonagal straightened her crisp, pressed robes and tried to look relaxed. She knew who the father of her baby was and now she just had to confront him, as much as it displeased her. She only hoped he didn't take the news too hard. It would be quite a shock for the poor soul.
Her hands tested on the growing baby just below her stomach. If nothing else, the father would respect her needs. He'd always done that; in fact, she'd often controlled him. And McGonagal honestly believed he could be a good father if he put his mind to it. He was very good with children.
Strolling along at what she hoped was a confident gait, McGonagal stepped inside the Great Hall, where the evening feast had just begun. Now was the time to confess everything, to get it out in the open. Now was the time to confront her baby's daddy, ad the entire school, in one sitting. Her nervousness nearly consumed her. She moved to her place at the table but didn't sit. She cleared her throat, but none of the students paid any mind. They continued to talk amongst themselves. Finally, she shrieked, "Silence!" The Great Hall was suddenly entirely silent.
"I have an announcement to make," she started, infusing false bravenss into her voice. She looked out onto the student body, many of whom she'd slept with, apprehensively. "As some of you know, I have had... relations with several males at this school, not including teachers..." Some students gasped while others laughed. Still others looked nervous, as though she would expel them or relower their grades with the coming news. "It's not something I'm proud of," she continued. "But it all ends here, because you see... I'm pregnant."
Silence seemed to echo in the Hall as potential fathers bit their nails and those unaware of these goings-ons were silent with shock. "The father isn't a student, thank God," she informed them, alleviating some fear in the room. "It is... in fact... Professor Dumbledore!" She looked nervously at the headmaster, flashing a weak smile.
Murmurs came from all over the student body. "Guess that Viagra really works," Ron commented to a rather confused Neville. Harry snorted with laughter.
Dumbledore did not move. His eyes were locked on McGonagal's, but not a muscle in his body changed a position. Everyone stared at him in confusion. Wasn't he going to react somehow? It was unnatural for him to just sit there like he was.
"'Ey, congratulations!" Hagrid said finally, slapping Dumbledore's back loudly. Dumbledore's stiff body slid off his chair and slumped ofrward into his tray of food. His lifeless eyes stared into nowhere. Hagrid's face described the shock of everyone in that room as he shouted, "'E's dead!"
A roar of chaos overtook the Hall as everyone grieved the death of the beloved headmaster in their own way. Harry hugged Ron tightly and didn't fight the tears that ran down his cheeks, but he couldn't help glance at Hermione, who still stared at McGonagal as if she had more to say. No emotion crossed her face.
But McGonagal slumped back into her chair. The father of her baby was dea. She knew she was in for a long road ahead, raising her child on her own. How would she ever do it? And would she be able to control her pedifile tendencies on her own?
She put the thoughts out of her mind. Now was not the time to think of such things. Now was a time to cry.
Still tired and uneasy from crying so long, Ron managed to grab Harry's hand and pull him out of their room. He was done with this. The curse, and then Hermione, and then Dumbledore's death... Ron could sure use a few kisses from Harry now, but he knew it was an impossibility. He was going to stop this impediment in his life right now. And he knew exactly who to confront-- Professor Snaps.
Harry's bloodshot, perfect eyes questioned his quietly. "Look, just trust me," Ron grunted, his voice raw. "Snaps did this. I don't know why, but he did."
They rushed down the narrow hallway, ignoring the glances of annoyances from the pictures, many of whom were still grieving. Nearing the fireplace, they spotted Hermione sitting in the huge cushioned chair, and snatched her up as well. She was obviously involved in this somehow.
"What's going on?" Hermione snapped. "Where are you--?"
"Just play along," Ron told her between heavy breaths. She complied stubbornly.
When they reached Snaps's room, they banged on his door immediately. The professor came to the door in a pink, fuzzy bathrobe that revealed far too much of his large, bony legs. His beady eyes met each of theirs, and his body stiffened significantly at the sight of Hermione.
Ron stared at Snaps with all the hate he was capable of feeling. Right now he could have strangled the drag queen. "Hermione wants sex," Ron declared, then adding, "Just kidding," before shoving the skinny professor into his room. Harry followed close behind with Hermione closing the door.
Ron shoved the man against the wall harshly. "You cursed us," he spat. "And you did something to Hermione as well." Snaps didn't respond, and frustration boiled over inside of Ron. He pulled out his wand and pressed its tip to Snaps's neck. "I will kill you if you don't tell me what you did," Ron growled angrily. Snaps's eyes lost focus for a moment, and Hermione suddenly slumped to the floor.
Her eyes filled with real emotion for the first time in days. "Ron, get away from him!" she shrieked, tears gushing down her cheeks. "Snaps is Voldemort!"
Shock clutched Ron's chest, and he dropped his wand with his locked-up hands. Slowly he backed away, hands raised shakily. "You are?" he whispered.
Snaps nodded slowly, removing his wig. His shiny black hair reflected the light from the window.
"Hermione?" Harry asked from behind Ron.
"Yeah?"
"You slept with Voldemort?" His voice sounded betrayed and disgusted.
Hermione considered this. "He wasn't that bad, actually. He did this thing with his tongue..."
Harry grimaced. "Okay, that's enough," he insisted. He snatched his wand and pointed it at the newly revealed Voldemort. "You knew Ron was the most important thing in my life. You knew that I would be too distracted to notice you infiltrating the school if I couldn't be with him. That's why you did it, isn't it?" he questioned loudly, his eyes penetrating ahead. "Isn't that why you cursed is?"
Voldemort laughed wickedly, no fear in his tiny black eyes. "The curse I used was supposed to frustrate you, that's all!" He glanced between Harry and Ron. "It figures that with teenagers, the curse would inflict sexual frurstration..."
"Shut up!" Harry yelled, and felt his anger growing inside of him. A heat in his chest built and swelled until Harry felt as though he would explode. Voldemort had taken away his parents, and now he would try to take away the love of his life? All these weeks, all these months, Harry could have been with Ron if not for the curse that Voldemort tossed off as if it were insignificant? "What did you intend to do all this time?" he hissed, glaring at his former teacher.
"Rid myself of my biggest obstacle," Voldemort admitted. Seeing the three teenagers' blank stares, he added, "You, Harry." He frowned. "I would have done it sooner had I not been distracted by a certain member of the femal population of the school," he spat, glaring at Hermione. "Oh well, I'll get it over with now..."
Harry snorted with disbelief. "I'm the one with the wand here. I believe I'll do the killing, if anyone." But as he stared into Voldemort's eyes, he began to doubt his own words. This man--this creature--had pulled himself out of far more dangerous situations than this and come out victorious. A fear replaced his anger, and Harry nearly stepped back.
"Remember, Harry," Voldemort instructed. "You have to mean it."
Suddenly his leg lashed out and knocked Harry to the ground. His wand clattered beside him. Quickly there was a mad scramble to pick up the wand, but in the end, Voldemort stood pointing Harry's own wand at him. Harry rose shakily to his feet.
"Goodbye, Harry," Voldemort growled.
Time seemed to slow as Harry looked into his nemesis's eyes, unable to hide his fear. He truly would die at the hands of Voldemort, just as it had been foretold all those years ago. He just wished he could be with Ron one last time, to hol him, to be held, even if just for a moment.
"Avada--" Voldemort was saying.
Distantly, Harry heard Ron's voice, as if in a dream. He turned his head to see Ron's angelic face drawn tight, his sweet mouth shouting words that Harry couldn't hear, not truly. Ron's wand was falling through the air, and by instinct, Harry snatched it in midair, just like he had caught a Snitch so many times before. Just like a Snitch, Harry thought, barely registering that Voldemort's spell flew into the wall behind him.
Harry spun around, wand drawn, to face Voldemort once again, this time without fear. He felt bitterness, and anger, and frustration, but definitely not fear. At this moment he wanted Voldemort to die in a way he'd never felt before, and before he even realized it, he was saying the words he thought he'd never say. But he couldn't help himself. Rage was coursing through him uncontrollably.
"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted.
Light coursed from his wand into Voldemort's chest, searing through his pores. The evil wizard looked at Harry, fera in his eyes for once. But it was too late to change the spell that had been cast. Voldemort shrieked, light shining from his eyes, and then slumped to the floor unceremoniously.
Harry watched this happen in shock of his own power. He had... killed... Voldemort. Wizards had been trying to do that for decades, and a hormal teenage boy had been the only one to pull it off, just as he had destroyed his power when he was only a baby.
Not only had he killed his nemesis, he had used an Unforgivable Curse, Harry realized. They would put him in Azkaban for this. He would probably never see Ron again. They would take him away fro life, and he would never know love again. Only... dementors.
Sudden exhaustion dawning on him, Harry sank to the floor. "Ron," he murmured before blacking out.