Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Not now…not ever. Anything recognizable belongs to JKR and Company. Anything else is simply me having a bit of fun!
A Tense Situation
~Chapter Twelve~
It was a rowdy group of students that gathered in the Great Hall for lunch that same afternoon. The fact that the following day was a Hogsmeade weekend, combined with the knowledge that the end of the school year was near at hand, had bolstered the student's spirits beyond measure. Harry sighed quietly as he looked around the oversized Hall and observed the happy go lucky smiles and carefree attitudes on the faces of his peers. Yet again he wished that he had been born a normal Wizard with nothing more than the usual concerns of an average teenaged boy to occupy his thoughts.
He looked to his girlfriend and smiled shyly as she laid her hand on his leg and gave a light, reassuring squeeze. She hadn't pressed him for answers as to the source of his recent preoccupation and for that he was exceedingly grateful. It wasn't that he didn't trust her or even that he was deliberately trying to be overly secretive, but the more he thought about the next day's activities the more nervous he became. Talking about it only served to drive home the point that their current situation was all too real and that his best friends' lives hung precariously on the outcome of a poorly drafted plan and the intentions of a Wizard that he had all but despised for far too long.
And that brought his attention back to Severus Snape, snarky bastard and spy extraordinaire. Yes, the taciturn Professor had managed to survive years of playing the role of a double agent and Harry was honest enough to admit that Snape was powerful in his own right. But why in Merlin's name did it have to be him, of all people, that would be primarily responsible for seeing to the safety of the two people that had become like family to him? And how could he be certain that the brooding Slytherin would place Ron and Hermione's welfare above his own should the need arise?
Yes, there was the Perattrahere Spell should things go wrong but Harry didn't quite trust Albus Dumbledore to summon his friends if the Wizard felt the consequences to be detrimental to the overall good of the Cause. It wasn't that he didn't respect the highly vaunted leader of the Order, but he had stayed at Grimmauld Place often enough to know that the Headmaster followed his own select agenda and The-Boy-Who-Lived had seen the Wizard make more than one decision that Harry himself had deemed questionable over the years. Decisions that were made for the good of the Order but somehow seemed to be less than wonderful for whoever had been in the way at the time.
His thoughts were interrupted as Susan drew his attention to the softly colored postal owl that was flying straight toward them. It wasn't as large as some of the other owls that were currently delivering the noon mail throughout the Hall but the feathered animal was more than big enough to deliver the long narrow package that was held firmly in its mouth. Flying to a point just over the table where Harry, Susan, Ron and Hermione were seated, the little owl flapped its wings and flew in a small circle as if to announce its presence before dropping the plain brown paper wrapped package on the empty plate directly in front of the famous Gryffindor. After eagerly accepting a piece of crusty bread from Hermione's petite fingers, the owl hooted happily at the four friends and flew off leaving the group to momentarily stare at the package.
"Well, aren't you going to open it, Harry?" Susan asked, slightly perplexed by the apprehensive expression on her boyfriend's face.
"Um… no, there's no need really as it's just some magazines that I ordered from Hogsmeade the last time we were there," the Boy-Who-Lived lied, feeling more than a little guilty by his deliberate deception. Judging by the look on her face, he knew that Susan wasn't entirely convinced but she was too polite to delve further into the mystery of the paper wrapped package in front of so many people.
For her part, Susan wondered about the contents of the unmarked box and a feeling of apprehension curled in her stomach. The fact that Ron and Hermione weren't questioning what was in the package or urging Harry to go ahead and open it wasn't lost on her for a moment. It left her with the obvious conclusion that the two already knew what was in the box and that for some reason they didn't feel that it was wise to disclose the contents to everyone else currently occupying the Great Hall. It was a puzzle that she was going to have to think about and something, a sixth sense perhaps, whispered to her that the box tied into whatever had been going on that week between the three friends.
It was a mystery but perhaps an even bigger mystery was the question of why the Headmaster was staring fixedly in their direction, his gaze traveling between the mysterious package and Harry Potter. The concerned look on the elderly Wizard's face did absolutely nothing to reassure her that whatever mess the trio now found themselves in was going to turn out for the best. If only Harry would just open up and confide in her then she was almost certain that she could put some of her fears and anxiety to rest but she had learned over the course of their time together that he wouldn't talk until he was ready. Sometimes she wondered if he was trying to protect her or himself as if not discussing the situation would make it seem less real in some small way.
'Typical Wizard,' she thought with a small sigh and returned her attention to finishing the remainder of her meal. The mystery of the week would just have to wait until later as she had an Ancient Runes class in fifteen minutes and didn't want to be late.
/^\^/^\^/^\
Later that afternoon, the Gryffindor trio found themselves once again secreted away in Hermione's bedroom under the protection of an advanced Silencing spell. The package had indeed been from Fred and George and had contained two nondescript wands of average length and strength and a single sheet of yellowed parchment covered in the large looped handwriting of George Weasley.
"George says here that the Wizard who sold them the wands said that these were the most all purpose wands that he had and that they are supposed to be really good for Charms work," Ron told them after reading the note from his brother.
A noncommittal grunt from Harry and a wary look at the long pieces of wood by Hermione were his only replies.
"Fred added a note here at the bottom to remind us that the Wizard also told them that all sales are final whether or not you're pleased with your purchase," the red haired member of the trio said with a slight frown.
"There's customer service for you," Harry joked in an attempt to lift the tension that had settled over the room. "I'll bet it wasn't even service with a smile..."
"Oh he was smiling right enough," Ron countered with a mischievous grin at his friend. "I'll bet you this wand that he was smiling when he took the thirty galleons and practically ran out the door."
An answering smile from Harry and even a small smirk on Hermione's part was enough to break the tension and moments later Ron and Hermione were trying out the newly acquired wands with various degrees of success.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted in alarm as one of the overstuffed pillows on her bed exploded into a pile of feathers sending Crookshanks running for cover inside the wardrobe at the far end of the room. An angry hiss from the half-kneazle before he disappeared behind the folds of his mistress's freshly laundered robes was enough to tell the three surprised friends that the cat was less than impressed.
"I'm sorry, 'Mione, but it was the wand," Ron apologized, looking at the thin piece of wood with a dubious expression. "It has a mind of its own, I tell you."
"Yes, well it had better be of the same mind as we are should we actually have to rely on these things tomorrow evening," the Witch replied with a grimace as she attempted to transfigure her Arithmancy book into a quill. The grimace grew into an outright expression of exasperation as her spell only partially succeeded to produce a very large, ink stained feather devoid of the necessary nub which would make it usable. An angry shake of her head said as much as any words might have done as she grabbed her own wand and returned the textbook to its original state.
"It will just take some practice," Harry told her reassuringly, knowing that his friend was bound to be frustrated as she was used to being able to cast almost any spell that she attempted with relative ease.
"Yes, I suppose it will, but first I have to put the finishing touches on that paper for Professor Dartmoon," she agreed, referring to the final assignment that she would turn in to her Magical Theory Professor. "I'll be better able to concentrate on things if I have my assignments completed and out of the way."
"Oy," Ron groused, "We're about to risk our very necks, be Obliviated by Snape of all people, and meet up with He-Who-Wants-Us-Dead and you're worried about schoolwork?"
Harry prepared himself to step in and prevent the argument he was certain was to come before it escalated into a very heated debate when Hermione decided to settle for giving the teenage antagonist a glare that would have scared off most people.
"Well, if that's how you feel about it," she huffed as she made her way to the door and held it open. It was an obvious dismissal and one the boys knew they would be foolish to ignore.
"We'll see you at dinner, Hermione," Harry told her, giving her a quick hug before he followed his friend out.
Moments later the two young men found themselves walking down the hall and making their way toward a quiet spot on the Quidditch pitch so that Ron could continue practicing the use of his new wand. Considering that it was Friday afternoon and there weren't any more Quidditch games scheduled, they stood a fairly good chance of not being observed. It was a fact that suited Harry all too well as he really didn't feel like answering the questions that such observations were likely to arouse.
"Harry?" Ron asked, his face wrinkled in consternation as if he were trying to figure out a complex puzzle.
"Yes, Ron?"
"Have you noticed that Hermione seems to be a little…"
"Jumpy?" Harry asked, having noticed that his friend had been snapping at them more than usual during the course of the past few days.
"Barmy is more like it," he muttered, and furrowed his brow. "I mean, take that whole thing with my Quidditch magazine yesterday. I know she doesn't like the sport much but she wouldn't usually just grab the magazine and not give it back, especially if it were brand new and she knew that I hadn't had a chance to read through it yet."
"I know, Ron."
"And just now she practically threw us out," he elaborated, trying to drive his point home.
"No, Ron, she didn't practically throw us out," Harry corrected with a small grin. "She did throw us out."
"Exactly," his friend agreed. "Don't you find her behavior more than a little out of the ordinary? I mean, she's always said what she thinks and she's always bossed us around but this is bad even for her."
"I think she's just nervous about tomorrow," Harry said quietly, knowing that his friend was not as confident about the upcoming situation as she would like for them to think.
"Well so am I, but you don't see me going around acting all mean and everything," Ron exclaimed. "Maybe there's something else; something that she hasn't told us about."
"I don't think so," the Boy-Who-Lived disagreed, pushing his glasses back up to where they rested atop his nose. "Think about it. What's the one thing that Hermione does when faced with a problem?"
"She goes to the Library," Ron immediately answered, his distaste for such a solution clearly evident on his face.
"Exactly," Harry agreed. "Only this time there's nothing for her to research or prepare for. At least nothing that she can get from a book."
"So what are you saying, Harry? That if she doesn't have something to research then she's going to be stark raving mean?"
"I don't think she even realizes that her temper is shaper than usual," Harry noted absently. "Think about it, Ron. There's nothing for her to research, her assignments are complete so there's practically nothing in the way of homework for her to concentrate on and she can't study for NEWTs because she already took them. She can't study the curriculum for next year either because there isn't going to be a next year…"
"Bad choice of words, mate," Ron groaned in reference to his friend's statement that there wouldn't be a next year. If things didn't go well the following day then there wouldn't be much of a tomorrow let alone a next year.
"Sorry," Harry offered apologetically. "What I meant to say was that Hermione deals with stress and difficult situations by throwing herself into her studies but this time there's nothing left to study."
"And without the distraction of studying then she has more time to think…"
"And more time to worry," Harry finished, knowing that their friend was handling the emotional aspects of their current situation as best she could.
"I get it," Ron assured him, with a rueful smile. "Still… I hope she hurries up and gives me my magazine back. There's this great article on the new seeker for the Chudley Cannons…"
The subject of Quidditch remained their primary focus far into the afternoon as Ron practiced various charms with his newly acquired wand until it was time to meet up with their friends in the Great Hall for the evening meal.
/^\^/^\^/^\
Severus Snape was feeling anything but restful even though he had actually managed to snatch a few hours of sleep the night before. He looked up from his customary position at the Head table and glared at the subjects causing him his current bout of irritation as they continued to consume their breakfast as if nothing out of the ordinary were about to take place.
He sighed and surreptitiously turned his attention to The-Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-a-Bloody-Thorn-in-his-Side and the corners of his mouth automatically began to form his trademark sneer. Leave it to Potter to be quietly chatting away with his girlfriend when he should be doing something to assist Weasley and Granger to prepare for their meeting with Voldemort later that day. Of course, were he honest with himself then he would have to admit that he didn't know that there was only so much that the boy could really do to help his friends in this particular instance. Shaking his head, he decided that he would admit to no such thing either privately or in public. After all, the anger that was currently coursing through his body as a result of the upcoming situation needed a tangible outlet and fixating on Potter was as good an outlet as anything else.
Being satisfied with his justification, or lack thereof, he turned his attention toward the youngest of the Weasley boys and nearly choked on the hot coffee that was currently flooding his mouth. Hadn't the boy's mother ever taught him that breakfast was not an activity in which one tried to make the Wizard Book of All Time Records by seeing exactly how many courses of food could be shoveled into one's mouth at once while still allowing the person in question to be able to talk. He grimaced as a piece of half-chewed bacon flew from the young man's mouth to land firmly in the middle of the plate sat neatly in front of Hermione Granger. From the look on her face, Severus would bet his last galleon that the girl was less than fond of her friend's poor table habits as well.
His thoughts were confirmed as an expression crossed the Head Girl's face that put him in mind of the time Minerva tasted one of Albus candy concoctions. What had it been? He couldn't recall the name after all this time but he remembered that it had been an oriental concoction. A Chinese plum… or maybe it was a sourball? Whatever the name, it had left the Head of Gryffindor House with a face that could have given a prune a run for its galleons. Between her expression from the offensive candy concoction and the hellish look she had bestowed upon Dumbledore, Snape could honestly say that he had never attended a more enjoyable staff meeting in all his time at Hogwarts.
Pulling his attention back to the present, he watched as Hermione… 'Where did that come from?' he wondered, shaking his head and substituting 'Granger' in his mind instead. Deciding not to dwell on his unusual lack of protocol in addressing a student, he watched as the young woman in question spoke sharply to her food spitting friend and then roughly pushed her plate away, having quite obviously lost her appetite. He silently conceded that seeing Weasley's half eaten food land smack dab in the center of his plate would have been more than ample reason to cause him to do the same.
Yes, he could understand the Granger girl. That is to say, he could understand her drive to study and excel though he would never understand how someone so intelligent could show such poor taste when it came to choosing her friends. He knew that her bookworm personality and bossy ways would never elevate her to the social status of one of the most popular students at Hogwarts, but despite her more annoying tendencies the girl did have friends and surprisingly enough they weren't all Gryffindors either. But had acceptance been so important to her during her first year to make her stoop low enough to choose such intellectual inferiors as Potter and Weasley? Perhaps she felt there wasn't a choice and it was either the two of them or no one at all? He sighed as memories of his own isolation came back to him with startling clarity: isolation that had been a result of his intelligence and bookish ways. Such traits, so similar to the bushy haired Gryffindor, had caused him pain and loneliness, but unlike the young woman that was currently occupying his thoughts, he had chosen to immerse himself in the forbidden pleasures of the Dark Arts in an attempt to block out the rejection and hurtful words of his peers. It had made him feel powerful back then but look where it had landed him in the end. No, his method of dealing with the situation hadn't proven to be any better than Granger's and he felt a slight twinge of sympathy for the young woman.
Deciding that he had dawdled long enough over the morning fiasco that was breakfast, an event that the Headmaster insisted he attend, he tossed his napkin on the table, stood up and exited the Great Hall. The time for contemplation and unwanted walks down memory lane had come to an end. After all, he had more important activities that demanded his attention: activities that required him to return to his dungeons and finalize plans for this upcoming afternoon. He only hoped that the Headmaster would not discover that he had altered their plans until after he had left the castle with Granger and Weasley in tow.
/^\^/^\^/^\
TBC
Author's Note: As always, thanks so much to those of you who have taken the time to review and tell me what you think of the story. I had planned to move forward a little further with this chapter but Severus insisted on having a few moments to reflect before he becomes immersed in the upcoming 'event' of the day. The beginnings of said event (at the very least) will begin next chapter.
As always, thanks to my beta, OzRatbag2, for doing a wonderful job running through this chapter and getting this back to me in record time so that you all could read it ASAP.
~Jules
