Longest update yet!Please review, I really want to hear from you, especially from my regulars, duj & Stormy.
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 11: All of a Room
Ginny Weasley had often wondered if Hermione had any idea how many people loved her. The youngest Weasley had long been convinced that, even if they had to elect the Head Girl, Hermione would have won, simply because everyone, even the Slytherins, had come to admire her. Yes, the girl was tactless, and yes, she knew more than most of the rest of the seventh years, and no, she was not a glittering beauty. But for all her bluntness, she was kind; for all her knowledge, she tried desperately to share; and for all her ordinary looks, her heart sparkled through like a precious stone.
Ginny had wanted Hermione for her sister since she had heard of the muggle girl from Ron, just from the fact that she had trumped him on the very first train ride. For years, she had suspected that Hermione would become her sister-in-law eventually, and the way she and Ron loved each other was, even now, deep and enduring, although it was completely platonic. No one in the family understood Ron anymore, though, except Harry, and Ron's heart had moved on. Watching Hermione as they waited in Dumbledore's office, though, Ginny now realized that she would always have Hermione as a sister, but never as a sister-in-law. There was something haunted in Hermione's eyes, and Ginny knew that look better than anyone, as she had worn it herself until this summer. Someone had stolen the brilliant girl's heart while no one was looking, and Ginny knew from the sadness and bewilderment that whoever it was, he was unlikely to be the sort of person to earn what he had stolen or to try to deserve what had been given to him freely.
Had they been alone together, Ginny would have demanded the answers right then. As the crowd that had accidentally converged on Dumbledore's office to show their support of Hermione included two professors, there was nothing she could do about it right now, except let the list of candidates in her head continue.
"Dumbledore should be here soon," Harry whispered comfortingly. The original trio was sitting together on a bench Harry had conjured just in front of Dumbledore's desk.
"Shame you can't tell what HE'S doing, mate," said Ron. Harry grinned.
"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's brilliant and inexplicable," Hermione said softly. "He needs to hurry, I'll be late for detention."
McGonagall heard that. "Did I hear correctly that you have detention, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded vaguely. "Professor Snape gave it to me, it's the second one I've had this week."
Professor Vector shook her head and rolled her elegant eyes. "One of these days," she grumbled, "someone is going to force that man to be pleasant and he'll choke on it."
"Fudge, hopefully," Ron muttered. "Take the smarmy twerp with him."
Ginny narrowed her eyes. There was something decidedly off about the way Hermione was reacting to this detention. The Hermione who Ginny had known for the past six years would have been raging. It was just completely out of character for Hermione to sensibly decide that school issues weren't life-threatening catastrophes.
There was no further time for contemplation, as Dumbledore arrived just then in a fire ball, holding Fawkes by the tail. "Ah," he said, "I see we are all here, good." The phoenix swept by Harry and brushed him with scarlet wing tips, then flew to a golden perch in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Dumbledore walked around his desk and picked up a silver candy dish, which he immediately passed around.
"I shouldn't," said Hermione as she immediately popped one in her mouth. "My parents will have your head for subverting my five-thousand pound smile, Professor," she added cheerfully as she stuck a second sherbert lemon in her pocket.
Dumbledore smiled indulgently at her. Ginny rather suspected that he had a soft spot for the genius girl. "If that is all your parents want my head for, I think I've done a very good job with you," he said. He smiled at the room full of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and professors, and accepted his candy dish back from Neville (who hadn't dropped it, not even once.) When he looked up from putting it away, his face had gone very serious and his eyes weren't twinkling so much this time.
"Miss Granger, I would have to say, normally, that I could not allow you to leave the school at this time. I have several people watching the movements of various Death Eaters and Voldemort" - the room gave a collective gasp and Ginny rolled her eyes - "and they are reporting that the danger to a muggleborn witch of your caliber would be rather great. I've just come from Headquarters, and we don't see a clear way around it."
Hermione nodded. "I was afraid you'd say that, Professor. I'll have to write my parents and tell them to work it out with the solicitors or something. Apparently, there's a will involved and I'm supposed to be there."
Ron looked up from his hands, suddenly and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "How about an escort, Professor," he suggested. "She shouldn't miss her inheritance because of these stupid, evil gits. If they have their way in the world, she may need it."
Harry nodded. "Send her with someone they won't want to attack, Professor," he said.
Ginny glared a hole in the back of the boys' heads. Their little speech here smelled of some sort of conspiracy.
Dumbledore smiled and twinkled all of the sudden. He looked at the two boys and nodded as if they had suddenly pronounced the Lost Prophecies of Merlin. "Excellent idea, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley." He rose. "Come, Miss Granger. I believe you have a detention in fifteen minutes. I shall escort you." Without another word, he escorted Hermione out the door while the others stared incredulously after him.
Ginny rapped her fingers on her chair arm, listening to the steady rhythm slowly quickening as she thought about how irritated she was, while the rest cleared out the room, muttering and gossipping and looking confused. When it was only she and the two boys left, she stood up as if to go, feeling them watching her and silently congratulating themselves behind her back. When she reached the door, she rounded on them with her wand in her hand. "Alright," she snapped, "spill, or it's great flapping bogeys the size of Snape for both of you."
"You are late, again, Miss Granger," said Severus, without looking up from his desk. "Can you not walk down to the dungeon without getting lost, or is this an indication of something more sinister?"
Dumbledore smiled. Here was Severus at his snarky best, trying to pretend like he hadn't been looking forward to Miss Granger's company for the evening. Dumbledore was pleased that Severus was on the verge of finding a friend in Miss Granger, even if it would doubtlessly take the Gryffindor girl another seven years to even get him on a first name basis. Still, there was nothing wrong with students and teachers making friends, and if ever someone needed a friend, it was the spiteful Slytherin Potions Master.
"I'm sorry to say, Severus," he said, "that it is the more sinster one."
Severus's head shot up and his eyes narrowed. Dumbledore continued to smile as a look of distress appeared on Snape's pale face. He was not happy, Dumbledore read, with this turn of events, and was even more displeased because of his failure to see it coming.
"Miss Granger is not lost - she was slowed by an elderly wizard on a leisurely stroll. I trust you have everything in order?" He gestured at the "Encyclopaedia Esoterica" on the corner of Snape's desk.
Severus frowned. "I was planning to utilize Miss Granger's precise diction and incessant prattle to aide my research," he said with a shrug.
Hermione tightened her hand very carefully on Dumbledore's arm. Dumbledore felt her stiffen and shook his head tiredly. "Unfortunately, your research will have to wait. You and Miss Granger will need to make travel plans. She is not licensed to apparate and the Knight Bus is entirely too visible. I expect Miss Granger will be adequately equipped to suggest Muggle transport to get you both to your destination."
"I beg your pardon?" said Severus, and the tone of his voice amused Dumbledore, even as it apparently startled Miss Granger. Surprised, Snape sounded almost exactly like anyone else, as his voice lost all traces of the customary anger or sarcasm.
"You will be escorting Miss Granger to her family tomorrow. She will remain there through the funeral and legal proceedings until Tuesday. You will be her companion and will protect her. Your presence will probably suffice to keep those who would endanger her at bay, so I expect you'll want to be particularly visible. But you'll need Muggle clothes."
Severus gaped at him, too stunned to speak. Dumbledore smiled mischeiviously and decided to pretend he didn't know this was bothering the younger man. "I see that you are excited and looking forward to your vacation, so I'll just leave you and Miss Granger to the planning. Be cautious, of course, both of you, but try to have a pleasant time, even on such a sad occasion in such grim times as these."
They both nodded, open mouthed and appalled, at him, so he turned and left too quickly for them to gather their wits and argue.
Snape picked up the heavy tome from the corner of his desk. "Study this," he said calmly and handed it to her, careful to ensure that their eyes never met.
The Head Girl smiled and nodded and busied herself by trying to tuck the new book in among the vast selection she already carried in her bag. Finally, in frustration, she snapped an engorgement spell at the bag. The first one misfired and only made the handle too large. The second was perfect and meant that Snape had time to dawdle with the items on his desk while she rearranged her things.
When his patience could take it no more, he looked up to snap at the girl, only to find her waiting silently, her eyes downcast in a gesture that was strangely too trusting to be submissive. He rolled his eyes. "Where do you live, Miss Granger?"
"Stratford-on-Avon," she said. "We can probably..."
Snape held up a hand and interrupted her. "There will be no problem, Miss Granger. I will meet you in the Entrance Hall tomorrow morning at 7."
"But I can..."
"Miss Granger," he said, coldly, "I have been traveling the length and breadth of this country for far longer than the magical world has been plagued by your existence. I am certain I can find my way to any place as well without magic as with it, and all without your know-it-all help. You may leave now."
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide and blazing, her skin pale and taut. He refused to back down, gazed at her with cold contempt, feeling his lip start to curl into his habitual sneer. Her lip started to tremble and he felt the sneer only grow more pronounced.
Then, there was nothing. She nodded at him with eyes so cold they could touch his own with frost, and then she turned and left.
He went to his chambers and packed his things, careful to take more than he usually would in case he ended up unable to use magic at any point. He pulled out a small travel guide from his vast bookcase and sat in his chair to read it.
He briefly considered their travel route and finally, in an excess of frustration, flung the guide down and picked up the book he was reading for entertainment, a collection of potions accidents and anecdotes. It held his interest briefly, but failed to keep it. What interested him more was the feeling of guilt. It crawled over him, infested him, dragged him down. Due to his other occupation, he was quite accustomed to feelings of guilt, but this was completely beyond his experience. Never had he felt anything but a sort of calm satisfaction in insulting a Gryffindor, any Gryffindor, and Granger had always been a particularly loud little target. How, then, was he now worried what Hermione might think, what Hermione might feel?
Five minutes of frustrated contemplation got him no where. Snape finally rolled his eyes and decided to himself that he was not guilty but nervous about McGonagall and her ultimatum. If Miss Granger went to the stern animagus for help, he would be roasted for dinner and fed to dragons. With that strangely comforting realization, he sighed and relaxed, giving in to his other desperate feeling of the moment - exhaustion.
He had no sooner closed his eyes than everything behind them exploded inside his head.