duj, you can be in my lifeboat any time! :-)You're right about that swearing thing, and especially given the way I'd described his reactions at that moment. I'll change it as soon as I figure out how. As to Hermione, I can picture the little first year Hermione running up to him at breakfast the last day in front of everyone: "I'm sorry I thought it was you and set you on fire ok bye…" and then running away. It may not have happened, doesn't matter. Bravery is, I guess what I'm saying, the Gryffindor way, but it's at least TEMPERED by common sense. When they DO feel guilty and DO own up to it, they apologize (R/H issue in GoF). I just don't think she feels guilty right now. She may yet, I haven't decided. I'm still pretty sure that she stacks herself as innocent of anything but the expelliarmus – just like she wouldn't apologize to Malfoy for polyjuicing his two best friends and invading his common room to spy on him. Just speculating. I liked your story. Hope you're continuing it!
Everyone else, thanks a million for the reviews. Sorry, SamanthaRiddle, I'm afraid this one may take a while for that to happen – there's an alarmingly graphic scene coming up, though, so stay tuned…
BTW: I will be a few days updating again.
Touch the Air Softly
by Jessa L'Rynn
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. J.K. Rowling created them and writes them with a genius that has never been equaled. Warner Bros. owns the right to do dumb things with them and doubtlessly will once Jo's finished with them, unless she kills them all. I try to fight the urge to put words into other people's visions. But every once in awhile, something yummy like this comes along and I find myself committing what I have been told is both crime and honor. With all due respect to Jo Rowling and her marvelous world, here is my attempt to "steal from the best".
Chapter 7: 'Til Roses…
Hermione and Ron lounged on either side of Harry's bed, comfortably watching as Harry complained vigorously to Madame Pomfrey. "I'm fine, I had a broken leg, you fixed it, can't I go?"
"No, Mr. Potter, I think you would be safest to stay here. I have charmed the bone, certainly, but it is quite fragile. I can't expect you to be careful without supervision."
Harry glared at her as she bustled about the bedside. "How's Professor Snape?" he asked, grudgingly.
"Comfortable," she assured him. "Miss Granger managed to conjure something reasonably soft for the Professor to land on."
Harry nodded. He hadn't noticed it, but then he'd been blacking out with pain from Malfoy's stupid stunt. He smiled up at Hermione and found she was hiding in her textbook, her face subtly pinker where he could see it. Madam Pomfrey walked away, muttering to herself that it was obviously a male thing. He fiddled with his blankets. "Was it something good?" he asked.
"You know, Hermione, you should've done a bathtub," Ron said softly.
Hermione snickered. "Look, he's lucky it wasn't a tub of pudding, but I was afraid he'd drown. That was the first thing I thought of – he ended up landing on the second thing."
"Everyone's gonna be staring at you, you know that, right?" Ron said.
"What'd she conjure?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.
Hermione buried her face in her hands while Ron let out one loud guffaw, then covered his mouth before Madam Pomfrey returned to throw him out. After he'd calmed down a little bit, he looked up and grinned at Harry. "Nothing much, Harry, just a bed."
Harry smiled, hearing a bit of Ron's twin prankster brothers in his voice. "Just a bed?" he asked.
"Big enough to be sure he'd land on it," Hermione whispered.
"Great humongous bloody thing, Harry," Ron chortled. "With red sheets."
Hermione groaned and Harry reached out to rub her back. "That's not too bad – just say it was Gryffindor colors."
"They were that shiny stuff - satin, Ginny told us," Ron said. "And…"
"Oh, God…" Hermione moaned.
"And covered in real rose petals," Ron finished triumphantly, grinning at them both.
Harry gaped at him. "No," he said, finally.
Hermione nodded miserably. "Just like in one of those bad Muggle romance movies, Harry. They picked him up and he had petals all over him."
"I thought McGonagall would break a rib," Ron said. "You know, trying not to laugh."
"I figure Snape's gonna break my neck," Hermione said sadly.
"You'll be fine," Harry promised. "Even a great snarky git like him can't possibly be too mad at someone who saved his life."
"Snape, Harry," Ron reminded him. "You're mistaking him for someone who DOESN'T scare dementors into going back to whatever they were doing."
Harry smiled. "It'll be ok," he assured them. He looked over at Hermione, watching her do her homework for several minutes before he turned his attention back to Ron. "You fall off the broom next time, mate. I've had enough of it."
Ron laughed. "Sorry, mate, but the rest of the games aren't like this one. I fall off a broom against Hufflepuff and it'll be my own stupid fault."
Harry smiled at him, then sobered painfully. Ron was right. Two more games and they would probably never play regulation Quidditch together again. He felt his throat get a little tight.
Hermione looked up at him incredulously, then jumped off the bed, leaving her books lying there as she walked away. Harry had a sneaking suspicion where she was headed and shook his head. Absolutely, he would NOT bring that up to Ron. The youngest Weasley boy would blame himself. So he turned the subject back to Quidditch and they went over the game play by play.
Hermione returned by the time they were up to Malfoy's little foul - and how Madam Hooch never stood a chance to catch that. Ron was all for telling her and hoping she'd pull Malfoy off the team.
"Never happen," Harry said. "Besides, they might get a good seeker if she took him off." He turned to Hermione and frowned at the distracted little smile on her pretty face. Something about this really bothered him, but he couldn't put his finger on anything worse than the fact that Snape was a slimy greaseball who couldn't be trusted. "How's the professor?" he asked her.
She was halfway through explaining that Snape was really quite pleasant at the moment before she realized that he had trapped her into admitting something she didn't want to. "So he's - what? - unconscious? What?"
She glared at him fiercely. Harry grinned in great paternal humor. "Come on, Hermione," Ron said. "If he's trashed, I'd love to know."
"Yes," she admitted. "Madam Pomfrey's got him on some kind of pain killer and it seems to have gone to his head."
"Cool," Harry said and, without permission, climbed out of his bed. "C'mon," he suggested to Ron.
Ron stared at him. "No way," Ron gasped in awe.
Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself, mate," he said and walked quickly and quietly across the near empty ward. His leg still felt a little tingly, almost as though it had been asleep. The stone floor was frigid under his bare feet. He walked behind the curtain where Madam Pomfrey had stowed the groaning and complaining Potions Master some hours ago. "Oy, Professor," he said as quietly as possible.
"Am I to be plagued by Gryffindors, then? What can I do for you, Potter?" The sinister man astonished Harry by giggling. "Did you know that there are fifty seven tiles directly visible from this bed, Potter? Of course you did. When you leave Hogwarts, we'll have the Headmaster put a plaque above your bed: 'Harry Potter slept here. Often.'"
Harry smiled. "I only counted 53, but I think it's 'cause I'm shorter than you."
Snape snickered. "Sic Parvulus Gloria Mundi."
Harry grinned, and rolled his eyes. "Hardly, Professor." He looked at Snape who was muttering something about butterflies and the grin faded. "Thanks for trying," he whispered sincerely.
"Can you imagine the trouble Draco would have been in?" Snape frowned and looked blearily up at Harry. "Not anything to do with you, Potter." He coughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Need to wash that," he muttered. Harry bit his lip hard to keep from grinning any more than he already was. "Snarky, something snarky, make the Potter boy, silly thing, go away." Harry KNEW he thought he was talking to himself. "Tell Miss Granger that mortification is rarely fatal, although in her case, I might be willing to help it along." He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep, humming an old muggle song as he drifted off.
Harry gaped at him, shook his head, and walked away. When he got back to bed, he found Hermione grinning at him. "That was weird," Harry said.
"What was he humming?"
Harry sighed. "I dunno. Sounded like 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.'"
Ron stared at him in disbelief, then busted out laughing.
When Madame Pomfrey finally released Harry, it was dinner time and they went down to the Great Hall. Hermione tried to eat slowly, but watching Ron and Harry go through the match for the third time, she realized they weren't going to notice if she did disappear. People were whispering behind her, and she didn't want to be here at the moment. Ginny Weasley came over and flopped down next to Harry. Neville and Seamus, the Gryffindor beaters, appeared at either side of Ron. When the other chasers turned up moments later, Hermione grinned and excused herself. Ginny watched her curiously for a brief moment but then Harry asked her a question and she turned her total attention onto him.
She slipped back into the Hospital Wing but found Professor Snape standing up and getting ready to leave. She heard herself squeak some indescisive syllable before she could stop herself. "Good to see you up, Professor," she said faintly.
He glared at her. "Why are you here, Miss Granger?" he sneered.
She kept walking past him and didn't turn around. "I've lost a book," she lied, quietly. "I was trying to see if I left it by Harry's bed." She could feel him glowering at her. Deep breath, Hermione, he'll never know if you don't say anything else. She walked back toward the bed and chuffed in disgust. "No, it's not here, either," she muttered and turned to go back out.
Snape sighed. "You'd best ask Madame Pomfrey, Granger. She may have already found it and moved it."
"Oh, yes, very good idea. Thank you, sir." She turned toward Pomfrey's office door.
"Incidentally, what book was it?"
She turned red and didn't look at him. "My... um... the um... I was doing my... that is, well, but you assigned an essay and I thought I could do that while I waited for Harry."
"Idiot child," she heard him mutter. "If you do not locate your copy, Miss Granger, I will allow you to borrow mine. Come to my office and I will lend it to you. Your essay is due Monday, after all."
Since he couldn't see her, Hermione grinned. Sometimes it was hard to tell what Snape would do next, but helping a student was usually NOT on the list, unless it was a Slytherin. She stuck her head in the door and asked Madame Pomfrey who, of course, hadn't seen the book. She was wondering what had got into Snape when she felt someone right behind her.
He was staring down at the top of her head. "Are you coming, Miss Granger, or would you rather attempt to borrow a copy from one of your classmates? Since doubtlessly they will be doing their essays on Monday at breakfast, I think you would have time."
Hermione sighed and fell into step beside him. He loped with his usual fury, unconscious of his grace, toward his office. Hermione had a sudden, vivid image of dancing with him, seeing that grace utilized to the best of its potential. Snape shook his head as he started down the dungeon staircase, Hermione scurrying to keep up.
When Snape handed her his copy of the book, Hermione tried for a grateful, beaming smile. "Thank..."
"I only do this because I do not wish you to fail this class," he said. "We do not need any more evil little Potters running around."
Hermione fought that one the only way she could. "Umph. Thought you said you didn't believe the Daily Prophet?" Her eyes widened at the way his eyes turned from pitch black and cold to pitch black and furious. She turned and, before he could take points or jinx her, made a run for it.