Chapter 3 Stand and Be Counted
Hermione knocked loudly on the large, oak door, then pushed it slowly open. Dumbledore sat in the oversized chair behind his desk, head bent low over a stack of parchments. He did not glance up; just waved his hand in a vague gesture she hoped meant 'come in.'
Hermione entered, closed the door quietly behind her, and walked silently to stand before the large, cluttered desk.
"Please be seated, Miss Granger." Dumbledore indicated the chair to her right, still without looking up. She curiously wondered what held his attention so completely. Glancing around, she sat in the proffered chair. Obviously, Snape had not yet arrived.
She wondered vaguely how long she would have to play this waiting game. After the reception she had received in the Great Hall, she wondered if he would bother to show up at all. Perhaps he was, even now, in the dungeon packing for a long, overdue sabbatical.
Hermione took the opportunity to survey the surroundings at her leisure. The large, round room was more cluttered than she ever remembered it being. Stacks of books dotted every available surface. She quirked an eyebrow when she noticed that the pile in front of her seemed to be entirely about croquet.
From his golden perch, Fawkes eyed her steadily, with dull eyes; feathers tattered, like a half-plucked turkey. He desperately needed a Burning Day. High on the walls above the desk, portraits of past Headmasters murmured excitedly, the figures darting in and out of each other's pictures. Every one fighting to get the best possible view for the upcoming confrontation.
Hermione now wished she had accepted Minerva's earlier offer of a good, strong drink. She could have used it to steady her nerves. Fretfully, she drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly.
Just when she thought she could not stand the silence any longer, Dumbledore hurriedly pushed the sheaf of papers into a desk drawer, clasped his hands together, attempted to smile reassuringly at her, and waited for the coming knock.
It never came. Instead, the door was thrown back on its hinges, slammed into the wall with shocking force and bounced back with even more amazing momentum. It was clear that time had not lessened Snape's anger, quite the reverse.
Dumbledore sat there looking at him, patiently waiting. However, Snape refused to be baited. Hermione sat frozen in her chair, hoping to avoid his immediate attention.
"Please be seated, Severus." Dumbledore began tentatively, hoping that this time he had not pushed Professor Snape too far. Not all those years of fighting Voldemort had affected him as acutely as the prospect of working in close proximity with Hermione Granger.
"Before you begin, Headmaster," Snape's interruption cut off Dumbledore's attempt to address the reasons for the meeting. "I would like to state plainly for the benefit of both you and Miss Granger that I am opposed to the arrangements you are making."
"Severus," Dumbledore began evenly, his words carefully measured. "I have explained to you the severity of the situation. If this mystery cannot be resolved, we will have to close the school, leaving students without the safety and security Hogwarts can provide, an unacceptable situation, you must agree. I have specifically requested the assistance of Miss Granger. She is here under instruction of the Ministry. It is done."
Hermione slowly rose from her chair. Both men turned to face her. She was not surprised when Snape looked at her for only a heartbeat then directed his gaze somewhere over her right shoulder. His obsidian eyes glittered with suppressed emotion.
"Professor Snape," she began. His shoulders stiffened in rejection of her words, hands fisted at his sides. "I understand that you are apprehensive, but I do not intend to disrupt your teaching or research schedules. However, I agree with Dumbledore, that our first concern is for the welfare of the students."
"Actually, Miss Granger, my first concern is to have you removed from these premises as quickly as possible." Snape's dark tone sent a shiver goose bumps down her spine. "However, since my wishes in this matter are beyond consideration, I will make available to you a work bench that will adequately serve your purpose, and give credence to your presence in the Potion's Lab. You may use whatever supplies you require from the storeroom, but will replace them at your own expense. You will not intrude upon my work, research or personal space. I have no need of your opinions, doubts or declarations. If you find yourself in need of someone with whom to give your confidences, I suggest you seek out Minerva. I imagine she will be a grateful recipient." He paused, breathing in audibly, gearing up for a continuance of his tirade.
Hermione sat there in stunned silence. His verbal attack brought on a sudden wave of lightheadedness. She closed her eyes against the hatred easily discernable in his.
"About this one point, I want things to be unmistakably clear," Professor Snape continued. "Your interference in my classroom will not be tolerated."
There was another pause, this one more lengthy, as if Snape expected an argument. When she made no response, he continued. "I trust I have made myself understood." This was a statement, not a question.
Hermione nodded her head in agreement; she completely comprehended the implications of Snape's attitude. Her presence would be ignored, endured as necessity dictated, but otherwise ignored.
"Headmaster," Snape turned to face Dumbledore. "I have made the modifications for Miss Granger's accommodation, as requested."
Dumbledore nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement, but made no other response.
"If you no longer need my . . . assistance," he sneered as he lingered over the word, "I will return to my classroom."
Dumbledore sighed heavily, but again only nodded in silent agreement to Snape's desire for escape.
Without hesitation, Snape turned on his heel and strode quickly toward the door. He did not bother to spare Hermione another glance, and in this instance, she was grateful for the reprieve. Eventually, she would have to beard that particular lion in his den, but for today, she had had enough.
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore turned his gaze to Hermione. "This has been a difficult day for you. I trust you will not be surprised to hear that, for the duration of your stay, you have been given rooms in the dungeon. Before you retire, I would like you to begin re-familiarizing yourself with the building and grounds. I know that as a student here, you, along with Harry and Ron, found some opportunity to explore the nooks, hidden passages and disappearing antechambers of this castle. Your knowledge will be of benefit when the students return in a few weeks. I have forwarded to your room information on all of our current students, and the staff members with whom you have had no previous contact. You will notice that we have employed another new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I should also tell you that Professor McGonagall has been made fully aware of the situation. Please feel free to confide in her."
"Headmaster," Hermione spoke quickly, then swallowed hard. "Do you know why Professor Snape harbors such an unhealthy aversion for me? As a student here, I disliked his teaching methods but always had great respect for his knowledge. After I joined the Order of the Phoenix, I held him in even higher esteem. I vaguely remember enjoying our conversations as we waited at Grimmauld place for word of Voldemort. Do you know what turned Professor Snape into such an irretrievably embittered man?"
"You are right Hermione. I watched as you and Severus developed a close acquaintance during the war years. Your friendship was important to him," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Friends for Severus were, are, a rarity, and in you he found some one with whom he could confide completely."
"I remember seeing him several years ago, at the Apothecary's, in Diagon Alley. I started to approach him. I was apprehensive about seeing an old friend, yet needed the connection." Hermione continued, ironically amused as she relayed the incident. "He looked right through me, that hateful sneer on his face. You know, the one he saves for first-year Hufflepuffs."
At that statement, despite himself, Dumbledore chuckled, knowing well the sneer to which she referred. It ranked on the Snape sneer scale somewhere between stolen potions ingredients and Neville Longbottom.
Dumbledore's face quickly regained its serious demeanor. "What happened between the two of you I cannot say. I know that all of our lives were irrevocably changed by the war. Severus's experiences were even more life shattering than we knew. Serving as a double agent, he was caught in a tangled web of lies and deceits of his own making. There were very few of us with whom he could leave behind the intrigue and innuendo to be just a man. Severus fully expected to die the night Harry defeated Voldemort. That he didn't is a testament to his quick wits and desire to live a full, complete life."
"So, Headmaster," Hermione queried, "do you believe that Severus is content with the life he is leading?"
"I cannot say, Miss Granger. No one knows what lies within the vastness of the human heart, or the contents of another's dreams. Few people have the opportunity to look beyond Severus's surly exterior, to the man inside. But never doubt that as a man, his wants and desires are not so very different from those of any other."
Hermione nodded her acknowledgement of this last statement. She then rose from her chair and walked toward the door. Just before she pulled the door open Dumbledore called out for her attention.
"Miss Granger." His voice was laced with urgency. "I cannot impress upon you the importance of discretion in this matter."
"Yes sir," came her cautious reply. Her eyes were bleak as she stared directly into his. "I fully understand."