I'm sorry it took so long to update!
Thanx a lot for you reviews again!
MusicaGrant – here you are. Enjoy it!
(no-one knows when the next chapter will follow g)
Chapter 7 – Aftermaths
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"Love is a battlefield"
(song
sung by Pat Benatar)
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(Disclaimer:
see chapter 1)
Fuer die Walkueren
The
night in which she had battled with Snape had been almost four weeks
ago, but Hermione still had the feeling it had just been last night -
even though she buried herself in work. She had hoped it would keep
her from thinking about him and it, but it didn't. Every now
and then, no matter if she was sitting in the library bent over a
book about trolls' behaviour during full moon or if she was lying
in her bed, her thoughts freed themselves from her home-made fortress
and went travelling – to him.
Which
scared her most was the kind of thoughts. There was no disgust or
fear in them – it was right the opposite: What came to her mind
were images of his sparkling eyes or his sleek movement. It was
unbelievable she even used this adjectives to describe him!
At
first she had tried to convince herself that this didn't say a
thing and that it was something like aftermaths of the shock she had
suffered. But after all these weeks she wasn't sure anymore and her
self-confidence disintegrated.
I
am not in love with him, she told herself, I do not even like
him. I hate him. I hate him for what he did to me. He is my teacher.
I – do – not – feel – a – thing – for – him.
And
she pretended it was true.
Of
course her friends noticed something was wrong with her. Ron still
was the only one who knew and he had kept his promise not to tell
anyone.
One
of the few mornings she had not skipped breakfast at all as she
gotten used to because she wasn't hungry, Ron had taken place next
to her and watched her peck at her scrambled eggs for a while. Then
he had tried to make conversation, to ask her how she felt and so on,
but she had been cool and lied to him that everything was alright –
although it was more than obvious that this was a blatant lie.
Deep
inside herself she had hoped he'd dig deeper and ask again, and she
was sure she would have told him, but he had just shrugged his
shoulders and kept silent.
When
she was in the library one day after school, her fears came true.
Embodied by Harry, who approached from between two bookshelves.
"Hi
Hermione", he said silently, as if not daring to disturb her. "Have
you got a minute?"
She
pressed her lips together, but nodded. Well, she difinitely had
a minute. Maybe he just wanted to ask her about their homework for
Transfiguration.
Harry
sat down and cleared his throat. Hermine corrected her expectations:
He had not come because of any homework, but to talk to her
seriously. The air of uneasiness that surrounded him was so intense
she could almost touch it.
"Erm...
Well – how are you?" he asked.
"I'm
fine, thanks." Hermione replied with a sigh. Not this thing again.
Hadn't Ron told him she didn't say anything about her condition?
Apperently
he had not, because Harry continued.
"I
am worried. You have missed breakfast quite often during the last
weeks and ... erm ... you have been so... so... introvert."
"I
haven't been hungry and I have a lot of work to do. The NEWTs,
remember?" Hermione replied impatiently. She was sick and tired of
this kind of conversation.
"Yes,
the NEWTs, I know. But we think you work too hard." Harry insisted.
Hermione
looked up and lifted her eyebrow.
"We?"
"Ron
and I. Everytime we see you, you're working for school. We miss
being with you and having fun..." Harry said sadly.
"Harry
– life isn't just always fun, maybe you haven't noticed yet."
Hermione shot back and hoped it would make him leave.
It
didn't.
"But
you're different!" Harry insisted. "If you've got problems we
want to help you. That's what friends are for, and we are your
friends, Hermione. If something is wrong with you, please tell us and
we'll find a way!"
Hermione
swallowed and quickly lowered her head, because her eyes were wet. He
was still so nice and caring, although she had done everything to
keep him away. He was a true friend, but still she could not tell him
– it was impossible. So she took a deep breath and forced herself
to look angry when she used the last ace she had got.
"You
cannot understand. Female problems, alright?"
It
worked.
He
didn't ask her what problems exactly those were.
"I
see. So... I hope you get well soon."
"Thanks."
Harry
stood up and looked at her as if he was in pain.
"Don't
work too hard."
"I
won't" Hermione replied and tried to smile, but it failed.
Then
Harry left.
Hermione,
who kept sitting at the wooden table, felt torn. On the one hand she
felt relieved he had not asked further questions. Female problems had
always been the perfect excuse for anything, and men, who felt uneasy
to talk about it, didn't ask.
On
the other hand she felt sad and guilty, because he had offered her
help and a proof of their friendship – but she had riden roughshod
over him...
She
felt tears coming up and let them flow down her face. Nobody saw it.
It
was the next Monday that she was on her way to Potions once more.
During the last lessons Snape and her had had something like a silent
deal – they didn't talk to each other. She didn't participate
in the lesson and he didn't pick her up. It had worked quite well,
better than Hermione had hoped it could. The other students surely
wondered what mystery kept Hermione Granger from pulling up her hand
impatiently to draw the teacher's attention to her. But luckily
no-one had asked a single question about that.
No
matter how well it worked - this morning Hermione would have liked
best to stay in bed. She had hardly slept the last night, still
haunted by nightmares, and now she was so tired that walking almost
surpassed her forces. If at least there had not been this bitter
taste in her mouth – it was awful.
She
was among the last who entered the class room and scuffed to her
table where she sat down and closed her eyes, because the world had
begun to lurch.
When she opened her eyes again, she managed to suppress
the dizziness and focussed on her books. But as soon as she began to
read, the letters blurred – the more she tried to focus on the
words, the more they mingled and mixed, making it impossible for her
to understand what the text was about. The dizziness came back and
Hermione grabbed the table. She still heard Neville who was just
about to explain that he didn't have his homework because someone
transformed it into a piece of wood, but everything she saw around
her was being deformed.
When
she groaned, Neville stopped talking and the moving, blurred heads
around turned towards her. They looked antic and seemed to grin
wickedly.
"Are
you alright, Hermione?" That was Harry's voice from behind, but
she was unable to answer. She just felt sick, very sick and would
have left if she had been able to.
The
last thing she heard was Snape advising Neville to take her to the
hospital wing while she felt herself falling.
She had passed out
before her body hit the floor.
When
she opened her eyes, she frowned as she tried to figure out where she
was and what the white ceiling belonged to. And above all: how she
came here. The last thing she remembered was the dizziness in the
Potions lesson... At least she was relieved to notice that she felt
good again.
"My
dear, you have waken up!", a bright voice came from the right side.
A voice, that Hermione knew, and a look proved her guess to be true:
It was Madame Pomfrey, who approached. Her cheeks were redded and she
seemed agitated.
Hermione
pushed herself up and realized she was in one of the beds in the
hospital wing. When she wanted to leave the bed, Pommy held her arm.
"Please,
my dear, please stay seated."
Inside,
Hermione rolled her eyes – she wasn't ill. How could she when she
felt alright!
"Madame
Pomfrey – I'm fine. I have to get back to school."
"But
you have collapsed in Professor Snape's lesson. Mr Longbottom
brought you."
Snape... Neville... Hermione's memory came back.
She had passed out. How embarassing. Not just in front of all others,
but also in his lesson.
She
glanced at her watch – Potions was already over, that was fine. She
would have to hurry to get to Arithmatics right in time. But first
she had to pass Pommy.
"Listen"
she said with a smile "I'm fine, really. I feel good!" Madame
Pomfrey's look made clear that she was not convinced at all, so
Hermione went on. "I have to admit, that I had... well... a little
weakness. But the NEWTs are coming soon. I'm afraid I've
forgotten everything around me when I was learning. Maybe I've
skipped a few meals..."
Hermione piped down and prayed that
Pommy would accept that.
She
did.
"Miss
Granger, that was not very wise of you." Madame Pomfrey reprimanded
her and sighed. "Alright, my dear, I will let you go – put you
have to promise to take part in the meals regularly. Breakfast,
lunch, supper. Every day. You will need that to be strong enough to
pass the NEWTs."
Hermoine
did her best not to smile – sometimes Pommy was really cute. In
situations like this it was obvious why she did the nursery part at
Hogwarts – she was the most caring person Hermione could imagine.
"I
promise." She replied. "May I...?"
Madame
Pomfrey nodded and Hermione got up. She was glad to find her bag and
her books on the floor beside the bed and lifted them. Then she
turned to the lady again.
"Thanks,
Madame Pomfrey. Bye!"
With
these words she headed towards the door and as she left the large
room she could still hear Pommy mumble something to herself about
irresponsible behaviour.
While
she was walking through the long corridors that were abandoned apart
from one or two students who rushed past Hermione now and then, she
was deep in thoughts. She recalled the Potions lesson, at least the
bit of it she had participated in. Had Snape been worried about her?
He had not even made some bitchy comment he would certainly have if
any other Gryffindor had collapsed. He had just advised someone to
help her.
Although he didn't help her himself. But – well...
he had had to supervise the class, and: he was Snape. Snapes don't
just help, do they?
Hermione was just trying to figure out if
there had been concern in his voice when he had told Neville to get
her to the hospital wing, when suddenly there was a voice from
behind...
"Miss
Granger"
Hermione froze right away and felt her heart beat
faster. She new that voice very well.
Steps approached and a
moment later someone occurred next to her – it was nobody other
than Snape. Hermione couldn't move or say something, but she was
unable to take her eyes off him, either. Maybe for the first time she
really noticed that everything about him was black, except his pale
skin. His hair, his clothes – even his eyes were at least of a very
dark brown. He seemed as if he had hurried to reach her, but when he
spoke his voice was cold and self-controlled as ever. It was obvious
that it costed him quite an effort to talk to her.
"Are
you alright?"
The
directness of his question surprised her and it took her a moment to
gather herself and answer.
"I
think so."
What
was he up to? They had not spoken to each other since the quarrel,
and one half of Hermione was as much relieved about that as the other
half was sad. Now that he stood in front of her, those two parts of
her fought againt each other and it was not foreseeable yet which one
would dominate in the end...
There
was a short silence until Snape finally asked:
"What
did Madame Pomfrey say?"
"Nothing.
I told her I had worked a lot and skipped a few meals, so she let me
go." Hermione replied irritatedly. Could it be true? Did he all of
a sudden care about her?
Snape
cleared his throat and took a look around, then asked:
"And
apart from that? Is everything ok with you or do you have any...
anomalies?"
Anomalies?
What the hell was he talking about?
"No..."
Hermione said hesitatingly "I've just felt sick for a moment."
"Sick..."
Snape mumbled and Hermione's bewilderment even grew.
It
seemed that her confusion had been clearly visible in her face,
because Snape took measures to explain what the point was.
"It's...
erm..."
He
bit on his lip and from the expression in his eyes Hermione guessed
he would have liked best to disappear right away. She could have
sworn that his face was even paler now, although that was hardly
possible. When he went on, Hermione knew why.
"You
might be pregnant."
The
last sentence had come quickly, had broken out of him in despair and
overwhelmed her. In the first moment she was unable to understand its
full meaning, but then it was like a slap into her face. She stumbled
backwards with eyes wide open and slowly shook her head. Images of
babies with black hair appeared in her mind, of herself with an
enormous belly in the lessons. "No..." she mumbled unwillingly
to think about what he had just said.
It was too much, more than
she was able to bear at the moment. Her breath quickened as much as
her pulse and finally her body was gracious and let her slip into
unconsciousness, his words still resounding in her fading mind again
and again:
"You might be pregnant"
to be continued!