The days that followed were a blur to Hermione as she juggled her time between studying for the coming N.E.W.Ts, Head Girl Duties and Snape-training such that she had hardly any time to spend with her friends at all. It was also a wonder that she hadn't snapped although she came close. Blaise understood her heavy workload and accepted it without question. Harry was busy too, between Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore and organizing the DA, on top of the ever-piling homework. Ron, who was really in charge of the Quidditch Team albeit the captainship was shared with Harry, was busy training not only for this year but making sure that the players in the years to come are properly trained. With all these, Hermione hardly had time to be with her friends.
Even then, she had sworn to herself, no matter what the circumstances, she would never cry. Once was enough. It still made her blush to think that she had hugged the greasy-git of a potion master, just because she couldn't control her brains. From that day onwards, she held her head high and took everything in her stride. It might have been pride, but something else was sustaining her too. The way Snape looked at her when he taught her something and expected her to learn was full of silent support, as if he believed that she could do it. She was proud that he had that much of confidence in her and wanted to prove that she was up to his standards.
She did not tell her parents of her strange connection to Voldemort. She decided that they did not need to know of this yet. Somehow she had a feeling that Voldemort wasn't keeping any contact with them anyway and leaving them in the dark would keep them sane. She told not Harry and Ron either for both although they were her friends, did not understand her in the way she hoped they would some day. Besides, they were too busy with their own problems.
The dogged days followed where she was often woke up groggy and bone-weary and went to sleep completely exhausted without another ounce of strength left, totally burned out. Yet she did not give up. She never would, even at the brink of death. Never would she succumb to that pathetic monster. She would fight him even if it means that she had to give up everything, even her life. Voldemort would summon her sooner or later, she had no doubt. She wanted to be ready. No, not ready to defeat him, she thought ironically. That would be Harry's job. She was functioning as another spy, she realised. The way Snape trained her, it was as if he was making a replica of himself. While she respected his way of doing things, being harsh, cold and unrelenting, they were also places where they would disagree. He believed in subtle manipulating and learning by being alert and paying attention to every single detail. While Hermione thought this a good idea, perhaps the fact that she had beed a Gryffindor once, she still stuck to the "foolish-bravery" that Snape had so mockingly described.
She wasn't going to succumb weakly to Voldemort, he realised. He knew she was past the age and maturity level to be stupid and careless of what she say and do. Yet, he couldn't help feeling protective of her in a way he had never done with any one else. He didn't want her to blunder or get caught. He reasoned that as a member of the Light side, he should try to protect people from the Light side, especially those really too young to be involved in this cruel and meaningless war. But some part of him always had a soft spot for the girl placed under his care. When he was younger, he never knew the word "care" or "concern". These were alien to him as the only behavior he was allowed to keep was a cold façade and since young he had been taught not to smile. When he joined Hogwarts, he was sorted into Slytherin, a house where none of these exist. Only political rivalry. He knew he was never in the league of Lucius Malfoy money-wise or charisma. In places where he could not achieve, he made it up with his academic results. He realised that he had been a little like Hermione when he was young, always the know-it-all, wanting to prove himself and please the teachers. Nevertheless, they never did look at him the same way that they looked at James Potter and his gang. He was known to be exceptionally clever and they accepted that. But they never thought of him as a likable person or genuinely fond of him like they were with James Potter's gang. He admitted that he was jealous at that time. As the years went by, he had begun to accept that. Then he realised that there were people who cared for him, even though they irritated him to no end sometimes, just naming one Albus Dumbledore.
Severus Snape wasn't known to possess any divination skills, yet his instinct and foresight was rarely wrong and unless he was mistaken, they were going to be summoned soon. It would probably be Samhain, which was only a week away. Voldemort love these events and would of course take it as an opportunity to cause as much mayhem as possible. Really, he was getting tired of that thing he had referred to master once. Now he was no one's man. He was independent, although he would acknowledge Dumbledore as his master, as well as a surrogate father. Speaking of that old coot, he had something up his sleeve. Snape hadn't taught for 17 years and lived under the same roof without that old man without knowing that he had an extra twinkle in his eye if he knew something more that he should and was good for him or had somehthing nastily surprising in store for people. He was right. What he didn't know was that it might get him involved.
Hermione walked into the hall early in the morning as usual, tired but with the same determined look on her face. It never ceased to amuse one Severus Snape, sitting on the teacher's table, with a bird-eye view of the Great Hall. He had subconsciously formed a habit of waiting for her to come and ensuring that she did come all right before eating his breakfast in peace. That morning, about to start on his breakfast after said task, he was disturbed by one Headmaster who felt disgustingly cheerful that day.
"Morning Severus. Would you like to have a sherbet lemon?" Dumbledore was whistling! What's wrong with him this morning, Severus wondered. This sadistic bastard must have thought of another scheme to involve people unwillingly for him to attain this level of cheerfulness. Sometimes, he was worse than Voldemort. At least that one was predictable.
"No thank you." He replied perfunctorily. He never liked to eat sweets. Any day for bitter coffee, not sweet toothache-causing stuff. Besides, he had been taught to be wary of everything everyone offered him. Who knows what Dumbledore had put in those sweets? He shuddered at the thought. Dumbledore can be really horrible at times. Really, he was worse than Moody when it comes to being paranoid, just that he didn't show it that much.
"What a pity." He didn't offer anymore and just sat down, merrily finishing his breakfast, which was just as classes were about to begin and the Great Hall was almost full.
Without a warning, he stood up and announced, "Good morning everyone. As you know, Halloween is coming. Seeing that you people are so stressed out and tired from exams (many people groaned at this) and homework, I do truly feel sorry for you so I've decided to call off lessons that day and make it a holiday and have a ball at night. Dress up as scary as possible, I'm sure you'd be creative. Well enough said. Can I meet the head boy and girl in my office in 5 minutes time please? That would be all." He sat down again, looking appreciatively at the jubilant voices.
Severus scowled. He should have expected this. Now he'd get the bloody job of boiling cauldrons and cauldrons of potions needed for the ball. He was entertaining the idea of not concocting any by telling Albus just to sod off but he could be so damn persuasive at time. With a long suffering sigh and the air of a man about to be sentenced to death, he rose from his chair, preparing to make his way to the dungeons again.
He should also have known that one meddlesome somebody would stop him, also happened to want to see him in his office. He shot Dumbledore a nasty glare and made his way up to said man's office. He really didn't like balls. They are too noise, contains too many hormonal teenagers and disrupts daily life. Really, if he ever becomes headmaster one day, he would personally make sure that balls are banned. Not that he ever attended any unless forced. It gave him too much bad memories of his schooldays where James Potter would mock him for lack of partner and company of books.
As he exited the Great Hall, he was unlucky enough to run into one Hermione Granger, also making her way to the Headmaster's office. She looked pale and was muttering what he believed to be a string of curses about the Headmaster. He caught the words "irritating old codger" and even "sick old man". Inwardly, he smiled. It proved that he wasn't the only one who thought the Headmaster as crazy. He resisted the urge to join her, merely followed her at a distance.
It proved to be a wise decision for just then, Peeves was feeling mischievous and dropped buckets and buckets of ice water at her. He didn't relish the idea of getting wet at all. Unfortunately, Hermione did get wet and the blood-curdling scream she emitted was passable as a banshee. She started to scream murder at him but he only water-bombed her, making her slip and fall to the floor. A messed with Hermione Granger is a dangerous creature, he realized as she whipped out her wand and cast a Petrificius Totalus on Peeves. He had always thought that spells won't work with ghosts but either Hermione didn't know it or she was so mad that she decided to try anyway and the result was one floating in mid-air, totally paralyzed and peeved-off Peeves.
However, one could hardly survive a fall like that without getting hurt and it seemed that Hermione had trouble getting up from her position. He debated against himself whether or not he should play hero and hauls her up and decided that she didn't need it even though his conscience was nagging at him to do so. Grimacing, she got up and gingerly took a step forward, only to slide backwards and nearly falling into the floor had Snape not giving it any thought and supported her.
Hermione braced herself for the fall, but it never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms in black clothing hauled her up and straightened her. She knew who it was even before turning. The mysterious manly smell could only come from one person. She muttered a "thank you" without looking at him, embarrassed at being so clumsy.
Unable to resist a remark, he commented, "Next time, do try to be careful Miss Granger. We can't have the Dark Lord accidentally killing you just because the floor is wet can we?"
Hermione was furious. How dare he? He had not been the butt of the joke. How can he know what she was feeling right now? She wanted to scream at him to sod off, except she couldn't turn around with his arms around her in a sort of half embrace. She tried to wriggle free off him, only to slip and nearly fall again. The second time, Snape's response in holding the girl was automatic. She was wet, he noticed distastefully.
Just as he was about to perform a drying charm after he let go of her finally, Peeves who had somehow wriggled free of the hex, snuck away and reappeared with another water bomb. This time, the professor wasn't so lucky as the water bomb smacked his head. He hollered at Peeves in such a terrible voice such that Hermione couldn't help but wanting to laugh. The drying charm was performed, and Hermione wanted to laugh again when she saw the look on Snape's face. It would turn milk sour. Yet, the laughter never came as the cold got into her and she started sneezing. She was developing a headache.
At first, Snape dismissed it as just catching a chill but the sneezes went on and on after they walked a corridor length, heading to their previous destination. He looked at her and saw that she had begun rubbing her temples.
"Right. You're not going to see the Headmaster now. Go to the hospital wing!" he barked. It wouldn't do for the poor girl to see Albus now. She was coming down with a bad headache and cold.
"I am fine really." Hermione insisted.
"Yes, you are and I would eat my socks. Now go. I'll inform the headmaster of your little... "incident" and excuse you." He retorted.
"I am fine really. It wasn't as if I met Peeves by choice!"
"Really Miss Granger, you're very stubborn. If you don't go, I'll give you a detention."
"If by threatening me you think you can make me do anything, I'll suggest you think again. Why would you care anyway?" She didn't even bother being polite. She really wanted the meeting to be over with.
"Miss Granger, that is one detention you have owed me. Now march! Or would you like me to carry you?"
"Why would you care?" She asked none too graciously between her sniffles.
"Because I am too involved with you!" He finally shouted. He didn't know what made him say that but he knew he couldn't bear it if she got sick. Her health mattered more. Am I getting soft? He thought.
Her eyes widened and she blacked out after hearing that. Did she do that because she was really sick or was she shocked at my stupid slip?
Whatever, he thought. Now he got to carry her to the Hospital Wing. Why had fate been so unkind and made him carry that goddamned woman around the castle?
Exams are finally over! I could sing!