Dreams
-
He hated formal occasions. The following evening would see Hogwarts throw its Christmas Ball. The one the previous year had been bad enough but to hold another? Snape was in the middle of a fourth-year potions class and was getting more and more irritated by every passing minute. A bumbling, chubby boy, who resembled the seventh-year Neville Longbottom, dropped a glass beaker full of newt liver and the class stopped dead, in fearful silence. Snape hissed at him harshly, before swiping his wand suddenly and making all of the mess evaporate into thin smoke.
Most of his students stared at his moderately mild reaction. Especially as the boy was a Gryffindor; the majority of them had waited with baited breath to hear just how many points he would dock from them. But it never came... instead Snape resumed his gloomy but thoughful expression and sunk back into his black leather armchair behind his imposing desk.
Dumbledore had insisted on his appearance at the event. "After all..." (he had said) "I am hoping to make it an annual event and the tradition must be that all teachers are present for the end-of-term festivities."
Snape had scowled then and he scowled again as he recalled the conversation. Not only was he exhausted, what with the extra classes the seventh years needed going into their mock-NEWTs in January, but he had countless essays to mark and the distracting pain the Dark Mark had been giving him recently hardly helped.
"Cork a sample of your potion, and bring it to the desk for marking as always. Then clean away..." he said gruffly, eyeing the clock. Next lesson he had the long-suffering seventh years, and as they were just about ready to begin work on a complicated version of the Polyjuice-X potion, which allowed consumers to alternate into whatever state they desired, be it an animal, an object, a liquid or even in the most complicated of situations, into gas. Their ingredients would not be fully ready for another fortnight, but today they would prepare them fully, ready to go into refrigeration, so that when they returned in January, their ingredients would be completely ready for them to begin work straight away.
The surly fourth-years filed out, and Snape gave the dungeon a last quick clean with the use of his wand. He jumped a full foot backwards when a fuzzy haired Hermione Granger seemed to fall into his classroom. She looked busy and affected; her face was red from apparently running to the lesson, and yet she still managed to look tired and withdrawn.
Snape had already admitted to himself, facing self ridicule, that he now thought of her as a very attractive woman. Her shape had filled out during sixth year and her hair, although still with its frizz, had lost a lot of its uncontrolled nature. It was her chocolate brown eyes though, he presumed, that made her attractive to both him and many of the young men in the seventh. Although, in her present state, he felt absolutely no attraction to her whatsoever. He eyed her suspiciously.
"I... I..." she panted. "I'm sorry, sir."
"May I ask as to the reason for your rather 'interesting' entrance to my classroom"
"I... I... I..."
"You... you... you..." he sneered. "Just sit down and try to control your breathing, Miss Granger."
"I... erm, yes sir..." she murmured, embarrassed, and took a seat near the front of the class.
Snape busied himself with the potions cabinet, removing component after component carefully, all the time aware that she watched him with her fascinating eyes. She almost felt uncomfortable... the night before she had had yet another dream about him. What was wrong with her? She'd held a crush on him for a while, but she had had crushes before and she had never gone so far as to dream about someone so extensively.
"Hey, Mione..." Harry's cheerful voice roused her. Both he and Ron had entered the classroom, accompanied by Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.
Her head snapped up in surprise. "Hi. How was Divination"
"Oh... you know..."
"I hate to interrupt your comfortable little chat, Potter..." Snape cut in, sneering at him. "But I have a lesson to teach. If you could take your seat..."
Harry dropped his bag at the desk next to Hermione and stood up straight to Snape. For a moment, Hermione thought she saw a flicker of fear in the eyes of her professor as her best friend towered over him... his 6'3" height well overtaking the 5'10" that Snape stood at.
"Of course, sir..." Harry said sweetly, pausing for a moment before he chose to sit down.
He eventually did, with a look of satisfaction on his face. After the events that occurred at the end of sixth year, Harry knew how much he intimidated many of his professors, in particular, Snape. They had all watched as he vanquished Voldemort once more, using some of the most advanced magic (learned mostly from late night DA sessions with Hermione and Ron) and also cunning tactics. Hermione admired him for his decision to return to the school; Fudge had declared he thought Harry too capable to waste his time and offered him an apprenticeship as an Auror. But for Harry, the thought of turning down his last year at the school he loved, was enough to make his decision there and then to return to see out the conclusion of his education.
The Slytherins filed in noisily, late as usual, but there tardiness was completely overlooked by Snape, who waited patiently for them to take their seats and then continued in his instructions to the class.
-
"I've never been so bored in my life" Ron said loudly on leaving the dungeon. He too had grown considerably, and now, at 18, he stood at an impressive 6'.
Harry laughed. "I've never been so cold in all my life"
Hermione; the dwarf hurrying along in the middle of the striding giants murmured a barely audible "Me too".
School was over for the day and the three eagerly made their way to the Gryffindor common room; where Ron still resided but the Head Students of School, Harry and Hermione, simply socialised before returning to their own personal, lavish chambers. Ginny was to be found curled in an armchair by the sofa, reading an impressively large book which Hermione had leant her the day before.
"Hey" she said cheerfully on seeing them emerge through the portrait hole.
Ron excused himself for the bathroom and disappeared up the staircase for the dormitories. Harry flopped onto an armchair, his weighty book bag crashing to the floor with a very audible thud. Hermione sat down nearby, much more gracefully, but her head crashed back onto a cushion and she closed her eyes in exhaustion.
Ginny eyed the pair and then laughed. "Is this what I have to look forward to next year? A broken back, no sleep and overall bad moods"
Hermione affirmed by simply murmuring, and Harry nodded, before ruffling his dark hair so it looked even more messy than usual.
"Have you got your date for the ball yet, Harry" Ginny asked quietly, eyeing his expression.
On hearing this, Hermione's eyes shot open and she lurched forwards. "We're supposed to take dates"
Ginny nodded.
Harry laughed. "Come with me, Mione. Solve two problems with one stone..."
"What, didn't you have a date"
Harry shook his head. "Totally forgot."
She laughed. "Typical. OK then, you're on. You'd best be nice to me though"
"Am I not always"
Hermione threw him a look and he laughed, holding his hands up. "OK, you have my word. I won't take the piss all night. It'll kill me, but I'll try my best..."
"You're going to be nice to Hermione" Ron said, finally joining them and curling up in an armchair. "Are you alright? You must be seriously unwell"
They all laughed except Ginny, who had an aghast expression on her face...
-
Much later, when the roaring fire had been reduced to demure, glowing embers and much of the heat it had previously generated had evacuated the common room, a tired Harry and Hermione wished the Weasley siblings a good night before removing themselves. Their rooms were situated together; and although they weren't far from their old common room, both students had found themselves missing living within the Gryffindor dorm.
They reached Hermione's room first; shown by a tapestry of a 13th century queen holding her head under her arm. "Password" the head's mouth enquired politely.
"Allévoria..." Hermione said clearly. The tapestry folded back, revealing the door to the Head Girl's chambers.
"Night, Mione..." Harry yawned, making to walk away.
"Harry"
"Hmmm"
"Can I talk to you for a minute"
He looked as though he was desperately trying to find it within himself to say 'No' but he couldn't and consequently nodded, and followed Hermione into her room, still yawning loudly. He fell onto her bed and lay there, comatose as she started to talk.
"I won't keep you long, honest, its just... well..."
"What, Mione" he drawled.
"Have you ever had any unusual dreams"
"What do you mean? All dreams are weird in my experience..."
"Yeah but I mean like, about someone."
"Like who"
"Oh I don't know, that doesn't matter" she said, partly to herself. "I just had such a weird dream last night... it was like it was... real, you know"
"But it wasn't..." Harry murmured, mid-yawn.
"Well, no..."
"So, what's the problem"
"I just... it made me think... it's, well..." she stopped, trying to figure out what an unusual noise was that had started. She looked over at Harry. He was fast asleep... and snoring.