THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
By: Scatterheart
"No matter what road you travel on, you seem to go through the darkest places." (PM Dawn)Section Twenty
The first person Hermione saw as she left the hospital ward was Albus Dumbledore approaching from the opposite end of the hallway; close at his heels were the last two people on earth she expected to see: Lucius Malfoy and his son, Draco.
The elder Malfoy's slimy voice was dripping through the air. "… When my son told me about the vicious attack that befell Severus, I came as soon as I could, Headmaster. It seems someone in our midst is insistent on opposing the noble Slytherin house, even after the four houses' combined victory over that abhorrent creature Voldemort. I suggest, no I insist that you commence a full-scale investigation into who—"
"Ah, Miss Hermione Granger," Dumbledore called as he caught her eye, and raised a hand in greeting. "I had been looking for you all afternoon, my dear. Where have you been?" He reached her and looked at her with a benevolent but otherwise indecipherable gaze.
"I was, uh… under the weather, and had to be taken to Madame Pomfrey," she replied. She was painfully aware of the two black-clad men who hovered like twin shadows behind the headmaster. Their identical blue gazes were neither benevolent nor indecipherable; rather, they pierced into her with swords of cold calculation.
Hermione forced herself to concentrate on Dumbledore. "Thank you for your consideration. I'm much better now."
"I'm sure you have heard about the, uh, mysterious attack on your former Potions professor, 'Mione?" Draco probed. "You know, the one you hated so much you dropped his class?"
Well, his meaning was clear, that spoilt Malfoy brat. Evidently having Pansy as a girlfriend did nothing to disperse the disdain and suspicion with which he regarded everyone else. Hermione clenched her hands into fists. "I heard about it today, Draco, along with the rest of the school, when the secret leaked out from your little circle of friends," she said, steadily. "And no, I don't hate him. He wasn't the one who called me a little sh—"
"Indeed, Draco. It was only a slip of Professor Snape's tongue. You mustn't think of it too harshly or jump to conclusions," Lucius interjected, patting his son on the back.
Draco shrugged him off with a scowl. Hermione noticed for the first time how tall Draco had grown; he was now almost the same imposing height as his father. "I forget what Snape says the moment I walk out of his classroom," the younger Malfoy sneered.
"As evidenced by last year's Potions final," Hermione sniffed.
Dumbledore sighed tiredly and stroked his beard. "Play nice, children. I know tensions are running high in Hogwarts at this moment, but please, play nice."
Hermione threw Draco one last glare before turning her attention to the elderly Headmaster. "If you'll excuse me I need to finish my homework."
"Yes, of course. But I have one more thing for you, my dear," Dumbledore responded. He reached into the depths of a gold-trimmed robe sleeve, and pulled out something small and red that resembled… "'The Complete Poems of William Butler Yeats,'" he recited, running his long, spidery fingers over the words on the crumbling cover. "I found this in the potions room on Professor Snape's desk. I believe it belongs to you."
Suddenly, Hermione was trembling. Did he know, she thought in a wave of panic. How did Dumbledore know? And Snape… oh, Merlin, she remembered that day all too well. "But how did it – I mean, why would—"
"At least I hope I am not mistaken." Opening the front cover, Dumbledore produced a scrap of yellowing parchment. "The note says 'Return to Hermione Granger' in his handwriting. Apparently he did not want to forget that he had confiscated it from you. Severus is not a great fan of your reading in his class, but neither is he a great fan of Muggle literature." Dumbledore winked, smiling.
The meaning dawned upon her in layers; Hermione understood. "Oh. I'm… I'm glad I'm getting this back." She took the volume – it was cool and rough and carried traces of a familiar cinnamon scent – and held it to her chest with both hands. It was all she could do to prevent herself from bursting into tears. "Thank you."
"Go back and do your homework now, Hermione. Advanced Transfigurations is quite difficult. Quite difficult."
"I – yes."
She practically fled. But it seemed as if Dumbledore's voice was still echoing in her mind, and if she wasn't mistaken, she imagined she could almost hear a hint of sadness behind his simple words, and see a kind of gloom settling underneath those endless sapphire eyes.
--
To be continued.