Flight of the Raven

******

Hermione slowly made her way back to Gryffindor tower, thinking of the way the skin on the back of his hand had felt beneath her lips. Somewhat rough, as one would expect a potion master's hands to be, but unlike his cool exterior, they were warm – exceedingly warm, like glowing coals. 'I've always been too well behaved to play with fire.' she mused, sleepily, 'well, maybe it's time to overcome that reputation.'

She went through her nighttime routine without any thought and soon was snuggled beneath the covers in her four-poster, Crookshanks purring happily at her side, a picture of contentment. Before long, Hermione slipped off into a deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione was lying on her back in bed, her eyes closed, and had the uncanny feeling that she was being watched. A cool breeze blew across her face from the open window, and she peered out beneath her lids to see small, coal black beady eyes staring down at her, at either side of a beakish....beak? She opened her eyes all the way to find a large raven standing on her chest staring down at her.

"Who are you?" she thought out loud. She glanced downward to its feet, expecting to see a roll of parchment tied to one of its legs, some explanation for this nighttime visit, but there was none. The raven stared at her, imploring her...to do what?

"Caw, caw."

The bird began flapping its wings and it hovered above her for a few moments before starting for the window. Hermione felt an inexplicable loss when the bird took flight, and after a moments pause, she lunged after it, taking hold of its wings where they connected to the body.

Now, she was small, and there were smooth black feathers all around her, and a rush of wind past her face, and she realized they were flying. Out the window they went, and past her spot at the lake's edge, over the treetops of the forbidden forest.

The wind was stinging her eyes, so she flattened herself against the dark feathers, burying her face in darkness. There, although the night air continued to fly by her, she felt safe and warm. There, nestled in the warmth of the bird's down, she lost herself to the quick beat of its heart and the feeling of the soft feathers against her skin.

After some time, the raven slowed its pace and began circling, prompting Hermione once more to peer down at the scenery that flew by. There was a stone structure, a large body of water, a row of dry leafless trees (). The bird set down on a sturdy branch of one of these trees and from over is shoulder, Hermione gazed at the water's edge, where a cloaked form bent, lapping water from the lake. He turned, to rest his back on a rock nearby and the moonlight unmasked his tortured features.

Hermione looked at the man by the water. His robes were torn and blood-stained. A large cut lay bare on his left torso. He was trembling, and then leaned over to wretch. When he had righted himself again, he pushed his hair away from his face, and that is when Hermione screamed, because the face she saw belonged to Severus Snape, and the cuts in his cheeks were crawling with maggots.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No!" she yelled, and but she found herself unable to move, and as she opened her eyes, she realized why, for her sheets were wrapped haphazardly around her. Her skin was coated with a thin layer of sweat and her heart was beating quickly. Snape was in trouble. He needed help now, wherever he was.

She quickly disentangled herself form the sheets and put on her robe and slippers, padding her way down out of Gryffindor tower to Dumbledore's office.

"Chocolate frogs."

"Sour worms."

"Jolly ranchers"

At this the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office swung aside, revealing the spiral staircase to his door. Hermione found herself standing outside of said door, reconsidering whether or not to bother Dumbledore with her dream. Maybe it was just that, a dream.

Her decision was made for her however, as she heard Dumbledore's kind voice bid her to come inside. He sat behind his desk in a blue, star tinseled robe and a blue embroidered cap, his fingers steepled and a friendly twinkle in his eye. Hermione seated herself in one of the overstuffed chairs across from him and looked down at her hands, not sure where to begin.

"Something is troubling you, Miss Granger?"

"Well, yes. You see...I'm worried that Snape might not be alright." She glanced up to gage his reaction to this statement, but he looked only contemplative.

"Well, it depends on how you, Miss Granger, would define alright. Severus has a few problems, I admit, some that could be remedied quite easily I'm sure, others, that would require significant psychotherapy—"

"No, I mean, pardon me, but you misunderstood. What I meant is that I think he may be in danger, right now, and that he needs help."

"And what brought you to this conclusion?"

Here, Hermione paused. She did not believe in the tea leaves and crystal balls and dream interpretations that Trelawney practiced. But what did she have to go on here, besides the contents of a dream? She looked up to find Albus' omniscient twinkle returning her gaze.

"Would it be easier to show me?" Albus offered, proffering the pensieve he kept in a cupboard on the wall.

Hermione looked somewhat helpless. "Just start at the beginning, dear," Dumbledore suggested.

And so, she began pulling the liquidy silver strands of thought from her temple into the pensieve.

*****

Thanks to everyone who left feedback. I'm sorry I let it go 
so long between posts, but real life was giving me the dementor's 
kiss for a while there. Let me know what you think of this chapter. 
I am trying to make my story different from the others but it's hard 
to avoid cliches when there's so much out there already. 

Tonight I was complaining that there wasn't enough flow of good 
fan fic since the new book came out, and then I realized I was a 
hypocrite for expecting my favorite authors to be providing me with 
entertainment when I wasn't writing anything myself.