Losing Sleep

By DistinctVagueness

Chapter 2

Hermione yawned loudly as she pulled her Potions textbook from her bag and set it upon the desk.

"Tired?" asked Ron from her right. Hermione nodded and stifled another one behind her hand. Tired wasn't the word. She felt drained and would have dearly loved to return to her warm bed. On the other hand, she had to be in Potions class today for reasons she didn't know whether she should disclose to her best friends.

She wondered whether Snape would be teaching this morning. Probably not, she decided; no matter what she had done for him the night before, he'd most likely still be in an awful state and unable to teach. She could just see him limping to bed right about now and wincing in pain as he pulled back the covers. Thus, she was surprised when the door at the back of the room was flung open and he swept into the classroom, his mood looking black as he passed her desk, looking perfectly healthy. (Within reason, anyway.)

The class fell silent, their eyes dropping to the tabletops as he whirled around and gazed at them all, his eyes dark and scrutinizing. Nobody dared move. Irritating him during one of his most foul moods was like cursing at a Hippogriff. Finally, after long, stretched seconds, Snape raised one hand, lighting an array of candles along one wall. The light flickered brightly, but the darkness was still painfully apparent.

When he spoke, it was slow, even and commanding.

"Turn to page…three hundred and ninety four."

Hermione stopped Harry's hand before he poured the leech juice into the bubbling cauldron.

"No!" she whispered urgently, taking a glance at the front desk. Snape was staring at the pages of some Potions text mutinously. He flipped a page with a disgusted look, shaking his head at the contents. "It has to be diluted- otherwise you'll have made the base for a Banishing Brew."

"Oh," Harry placed the bottle back onto the table and then glanced at his book, confusion written upon his face. Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

"Harry, I saw you make this potion perfectly last year. What's the problem?"

The boy standing next to her shrugged absently and turned the page. "Oh I see…I should have been making the Deflating Draught…"

Hermione glanced at Ron who was watching his best friend in concern. They shared a glance before she pointed Harry to the right directions. He got to work on adjusting his own potion right away, but the way he went about it was odd. Mechanical, autonomous. As if he had done it all before. Which he had, Hermione reminded herself, but that wasn't the point. There was no archetypal frown, his eyes didn't screw up slightly when he took a measurement and he didn't push his glasses up once. She bit her lip and stirred her potion thoughtfully for the last time, widdershins, for twenty rotations. The changes in Harry hadn't been abrupt. It was just after Christmas that she'd noticed him become quieter, his green eyes losing their shine, turning dull.

It was now the end of February and Harry was growing more distant. Flushed cheeks and wind-ruffled hair accompanied the only true happiness that shone in his face during a game of Quidditch. Hermione would feel a pang as he returned to the Tower, his face silenced, and ask Ron for a fruitless game of Wizards' Chess.

She had no doubt over what it was- she didn't think anyone could. It was seventh year, the year they'd all assumed was to be Voldemort's most potent- and final- strike against The-Boy-Who-Lived. They knew the Prophecy. They knew that 'neither can live while the other survives.' What it implied didn't bear thinking about. Harry would kill Voldemort or die trying. Literally. Hermione closed her eyes for a minute before removing her long handled spoon and placing it upon the desktop.

Her mind turned to Snape who stood on the other side of the classroom, nodding in approval at Draco's potion. Typical. Ferret boy could make the simplest of potions and praise would be showered down upon him. If Hermione discovered that she could brew an Elixir of Life, there would only be a raised eyebrow and a 'is that the best you can do, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stopped herself from thinking any more about Draco. He wasn't incompetent at Potions, far from it. She was only just above him in marks, a place she took great pride in owning. He didn't exactly deserve her contempt either lately. The last year had been relatively empty of arguments incited by him, scathing glares and derisive comments, featuring his favourite endearment, 'Mudblood.'

In fact it was rather unsettling. Ron and Harry suspected that the 'junior Death Eater' had something up his sleeve but Hermione didn't know whether she bought into that theory or not. It was too easy a stereotype for her to accept.

Hermione's attention jumped abruptly when she realised Snape was hovering along their line of desks.  He stopped to examine Ron's bright yellow attempt.

"Adequate, Mr Weasley, but just barely. The colour should be paler and the viscous texture leaves a lot to be desired."

Hermione frowned. She'd checked on Ron's potion beforehand and acclaimed it as textbook standard.

"Mr Potter…if you need to be reminded of what you are making every five minutes, do not even attempt a potion at all."

Then he stopped at her desk, studying her cauldron with greater attention than anyone else. "How many stirs have you given this?"

"Twenty, Professor."

"Not good enough. You should give it ten more and don't use the spoon as if you are simply stirring soup this time if you please, Miss Granger."

Hermione gritted her teeth. The cheek. She was never anything but careful when mixing potions and she knew perfectly well that she'd done it correctly. She looked up at him as he folded his arms expectantly.

It was as if last night had never happened. Did he even realise that anyone could have happened upon him, unconscious on the dungeon stones, never mind Dumbledore? She'd gone against her gut feeling and obeyed him when he asked her not to fetch anyone. Snape was obviously a passable bill of health today, unlike last night, and she knew that was mostly due to her on the spot care. He was in debt for her conference, but it wasn't a favour he'd be paying back anytime soon. Typical. She could have saved him from the brink of death and he wouldn't bat an eyelid. Insufferable Slytherin, she thought in irritance.

"No matter how attractive you may find me, Miss Granger, I'd rather you focus all your attention on your problematic potion than my face."

Hermione flushed angrily at his mock assumption and brought her eyes down to earth abruptly. There were snickers from the Slytherin side of the room and glares thrown across to them by the Gryffindors.

"Didn't know you had a thing for our House, Mudblood," hissed Pansy Parkinson when Snape turned his back and headed towards his desk. "I saw you staring at Draco before."

Hermione stared at her in aversion while Ron answered back for her. "Unlike you, Parkinson, she can do better than the Greasy Git or Ferret-Features, and everyone knows it!"

"Silence!" Snape must have overheard the 'greasy' comment for he was gazing at Ron malevolently. "Five points from Gryffindor for your lack of respect to both the Head Boy and myself. Now get back to work!"

And they did. The remainder of the lesson was conducted in silence while Snape loomed over them like the bat he was. He could no longer find fault with Hermione's finished work, however, and as he turned his wrath upon Neville, she smiled secretly to herself.

"What in Merlin's name is this supposed to be?" She glanced behind her. Snape was holding a spoonful of Neville's potion, which steadily dripped glutinously back into the cauldron. It was sickly ochre in colour and was giving off a rather odious vapour.

Neville swallowed and Hermione felt a dash of impatience. After being accepted into Snape's N.E.W.T Potions class (with much protest from the aforementioned), Neville had begun to pull himself together and could be trusted to produce fairly good and original work. In any other subject he would now speak up in class and volunteer his opinion, but Snape still had the unbroken ability to make this new Neville melt back into the terrified first year he once was.

"It's a Growth Accelerator, sir."

"I can see that, Longbottom. But tell me, what colour should Growth Accelerators be?"

"Orangey-red, sir, but-"

"And is this 'orangey-red', Longbottom?"

"No, but I-"

"Enough said. This is fifth year work. Evanesco."

Neville stared in horror as his potion disappeared. Hermione bit down on her lip but couldn't resist.

"Sir, Neville's been adapting the Growth Accelerator so that it nourishes the roots and leaves of plants, unlike the original potion. Professor Sprout has tested it so far and she said that-"

Snape suddenly whirled around. "Quiet, you silly little girl. When I want your opinion, I'll ask of it and I rather suspect I'd have to be intoxicated or mentally unstable to do so. Understand?"

Hermione didn't answer, the effort to keep her mouth shut took up all of her energy.

"Ten more points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn. This lesson is finished," he snarled in the direction of the whole class this time. He gesticulated with his wand and all substances within their cauldrons vanished. Without saying anything more he strode to the back of the classroom, his gait something to contend with and slammed his office door behind him.

After a quick lunch, Hermione strode into her room, her bag sailing before her and narrowly missing the fire that had just been lit inside the grate. Crookshanks let out a lazy mew of protest as she threw herself on the bed beside him. She let out a noise of frustration.

"I really don't care about a 'thank you' or 'cheers for not letting me freeze to death on the dungeon floor' but hasn't the man ever heard of civility? I ease his bloody suffering and he acts like I'm done him some injustice…no, worse, he acts as if I did nothing! Does he enjoy pain? Would he prefer to have a far more painful injury and die alone somewhere because no-one is interested in helping him?"

She thought about that for a second, forgetting her ranting which was going off on a rather diverse tangent.

"Maybe he wants to die." Her anger swiftly disappeared and she felt merely curious. "His life only seems to consist of teaching us, which he plainly abhors, and going between V-Voldemort and Dumbledore like a yo-yo. What else has he got to exist for?"

Hermione knew a little about his work for the Order was quite curious about it. Over the summer, when she stayed at Grimmauld Place for a few weeks, she'd seen him pop in for meetings or to pass a message on to another members. He'd always leave straight after, Mrs. Weasley's offers of a hot meal seemingly not appealing to him in the slightest.

There had been one amusing incident in which he turned up the sporting a dried bloody gash across one cheek. He'd spoken of a 'Revel', whatever that was, told Ron's dad to give a message to Shacklebolt and turned to the door to find Molly Weasley blocking the way, insisting that she could heal the wound 'the easy way or the hard way'. Hexing was implied. His lip curled as he grudgingly allowed her to perform a few charms and tell him that he was 'just like my Ron, at times, you silly man'.

Needless to say, after that, they received most of his news via Dumbledore.

She realised that Snape probably wasn't suicidal right now. He seemed like a man on a mission, from what they had overheard of meetings.  He would place himself in ridiculous danger so that the Order could have a little knowledge of Voldemort's plans, over and over again. Snape had been a Death-Eater once. Perhaps he was fighting for his freedom, for absolution of his past deeds.

Hermione wondered if he would leave Hogwarts if the Order destroyed Voldemort once and for all.

"Why would he need to stay?" she wondered aloud.

"Is this a private conversation or can anyone join in?"

Hermione started at Ginny's voice and then smiled at the redhead who was looking amused. She moved over on the bed so she could sit down.

"Who's he and where doesn't he need to stay?" she asked in her usual forthright manner.

"It's not important," Hermione told her quickly, brushing the question aside.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes…why wouldn't I be?"

The youngest Weasley shrugged. "I don't know…you just looked sort of pissed off all through lunch. I followed you up to see if you were alright."

Hermione inhaled loudly. "Just Potions."

Ginny nodded. "Snape up to his old tricks again? You know you're the best student he's had in years. It's easier for him to make a big deal of something minute than to admit it."

Hermione snorted but then covered it.

Ginny frowned. "You're sure it is just Snape?"

Hermione smiled. "Yeah. It doesn't bother me so much now, though."

The redhead returned the smile. "Neville looked annoyed too. It was pretty mean of Snape to vanish his potion. He's talking about that for weeks, and Professor Sprout has been raving to my class about how healthy her honking daffodils have been since he treated them."

Hermione was vaguely listening to her friend.

"Ginny…do you ever think about what might happen if V-Voldemort- oh, Ginny! - If Voldemort discovers what Snape's really up to?"

Ginny looked puzzled at her friend's unexpected question. "Erm…not really. But I suppose, now you say…he'd kill him wouldn't he? Obviously."

"Well, yes. But I was just wondering whether Snape…whether he would really care in the end?"

Her friend gazed at her thoughtfully. "You've been thinking about this a lot, haven't you? Why are you so concerned about Snape?"

"No, only now," Hermione replied in reply to her first question. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

Hermione bit her lip and went to close the dormitory door. "I'm going to tell you something, but you can't tell anyone else, especially not Harry or Ron, because I don't know whether I should tell anyone in the first place."

"Okay…shoot," said Ginny in curiosity. Hermione shot her a narrowed look. "Alright, cross my heart, hope to die, etcetera. What is it?"

The Head Girl hesitated. "I couldn't sleep last night…I ended up going for a walk."

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "Wow, that would be a good secret…if you weren't already allowed to do that now…"

"No…just let me finish. I was walking along to the entrance hall and I saw someone…"

The girl facing her started to grin. "Ooh, a secret rendezvous-"

"No…it was Professor Snape."

Ginny giggled at her possible mistake and stopped at the seriousness painted clearly on Hermione's face.

"He wasn't exactly coming home from The Hogs Head or something, Gin."

"Oh…" Ginny's face began to mirror Hermione's own. "He'd been to V-V-Voldemort," she finished nervously.

The brunette nodded. "He was in a bad state. Broken arm and limping, Athena knows what else. It looked like the Cruciatus had been one of the party games."

Ginny could tell there was more. "Did you go to Dumbledore, or McGonagall?"

"No…he collapsed outside his office…I did what I could to help him but he wouldn't let me find Dumbledore," she shook her head, remembering. "He looked desperate for me not to."

Ginny was confused. "Wouldn't he be better off?"

"Well, I thought so…but I've been thinking about it today. This can't be the first time he's come back to Hogwarts like this. He was a Death-Eater long before he became a spy for the Order, Gin. He's taken care of it himself before…he must dislike anyone trying to take over that responsibility. Especially Dumbledore. The Headmaster means well, I suppose, but you have to admit he's a little interfering.

"My theory is Snape relishes that small piece of control he has over his life. It's easier to keep it than to hand it over to someone else."

"Did he say something along those lines during Potions?" asked Ginny.

Hermione shook her head. "No…he acted the same as usual. There seemed to be nothing wrong with him except the fact that he needs a serious personality transplant."

Ginny offered a wry smile. "Pushing aside the serious issue here, maybe he just can't handle the fact that a Gryffindor Head Girl saved him from giving one of his first years an unpleasant surprise in the morning?"

Hermione laughed. "Maybe," she answered. She looked at her watch. "I have Transfiguration in five minutes. See you at dinner?"

The redhead nodded. "And maybe you should ask him."

"Ask him what?"

"If he really is ashamed that you helped him…or if he's simply an egotistical, housist bastard." She grinned and then went to the door.

"See you later, Hermione."

A/N: Wow, thank you for the flood of reviews. You're all lovely and got me to write a chapter more quickly than I initially intended. I'm starting to enjoy this plot bunny.

Emily- I think you may have misread part of the last chapter. Snape Apparated to Hogsmeade, not Hogwarts, which is perfectly acceptable according to Hogwarts: A History. Thanks for your review!

WinterSolstice- I'm so glad you stopped by. I tried e-mailing you, but hotmail returned it twice. *Mumbles incoherently* My question to you was if you are planning on updating In Too Deep once you have some spare time? You know how much I love it from my reviews. (i.e. anyone reading this- go check it out!)

Cliffe- Your first SS/HG? Muaha. We'll soon have you converted, mark my words. I remember the dark days when I believed solely in Hermione and Ron…*cough* Harry/Snape ain't my cup of tea, but everyone is entitled to their preferences, so I say go for it. Thanks for reviewing.

Merry the Psychotic Coconut- I already e-mailed you, as you know, but thanks again for reviewing, and understanding about the plot bunnies.

Gina-d- I promise I'll try. I really want to finish it and put in my planned ending.

DistinctVagueness