Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter Three
Hermione didn't recall the walk from the Headmaster's office back to her room. She dimly remembered the Headmaster's firm grip on her arm as he pulled her from the Pensieve. She had a vague recollection of his stern warning of the need for discretion, and her own reassurance.
Now, she was back in her bedroom, curled up in her bed, absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks. If she had thought talking to the Headmaster would ease her mind, she was dead wrong.
She certainly had no doubts as to where Severus Snape's loyalties lay now, but the things she had been shown... they would haunt her waking hours and bring nightmares in place of dreams.
If she wasn't so numb, she thought she would be hysterical. Her mind and emotions were in absolute turmoil. She felt like screaming, crying, throwing things and curling up in a ball in the corner... all at once.
In a few short hours, her perception of the Potions master had been turned completely upside down and inside out. She now understood why he was so horrible to everyone.
It was such a well-practised act, she doubted if anyone had ever looked closely enough to see through it. His hatred, his cruelty, and his coldness were all perfectly moulded to create the persona he wanted everyone to see, and it was such a loathsome façade, no one would ever bother to look beyond it. No one had ever cared to find out what made him act the way he did. People labelled him by what they saw: Death Eater, Slytherin, vindictive and uncaring teacher. Had anyone ever wondered why he made such an effort to be hated?
Despite his cruel, callous nature, it brought a strange ache to Hermione's chest to think of what his life must be; continuously caught between two masters, two loyalties, the two opposite sides of the wizarding world. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to go through life constantly looking over her shoulder. The mood of the whole wizarding world was one of apprehension lately, but to wake up every morning, not knowing if today would be the day you would be discovered, tortured and killed... it would weigh heavily on anyone's mind.
She thought back to Dumbledore's words before he took her into the Pensieve. He is going to need someone he can rely on before this war is over. She understood that, and she heartily agreed. The war was coming to a climax, each side biding their time, waiting for the other to make a mistake. There was a palpable tension in the air, and tempers were running high. Everyone needed someone they could talk to or lean on. What she didn't comprehend, though, was why Dumbledore thought she could be that person for Snape.
What could she possibly do to help him? What would he let you do to help him, she corrected herself. He wasn't exactly the type of person to invite her into his chambers for a heart-to-heart once a week.
She almost laughed at the thought of Professor Snape curled up in an armchair with a cup of hot chocolate, telling her his innermost secrets... until she realised she'd just been shown those secrets anyway, without his knowledge.
She didn't want to imagine his reaction when he realised how much she knew. He wouldn't take his anger out on the Headmaster, he'd blame her and her penchant for wanting to know everything. She'd probably have detention for the rest of her life.
Nevertheless, she knew the truth now, and wasn't likely to forget it. Not in a hurry... not ever. Hermione Granger didn't shy away from a challenge, and perhaps this task, this mission to which Dumbledore has assigned her, was the ultimate challenge: find a way through the seemingly impenetrable facade of Severus Snape.
She just had to figure out how.
She looked at the clock, startled when she realised it was past one in the morning. She had been lost in thought for over two hours.
Quickly, she undressed and climbed under the covers, pushing a reluctant Crookshanks down to the end of the bed. A murmured nox later, and the room was plunged into almost complete darkness. Only a sliver of moonlight through a crack in the curtains cast a single band of light across the floor.
Though she was tired, sleep was not forthcoming. Her mind was still teeming with thoughts and images from all she had learnt that evening, and even her usual trick of reciting the Runes alphabet in her head offered no relief.
A restless sleep finally fell upon her, but she awoke often, starting from her slumber in the dark. And every time she fell back to sleep, the hoarse screaming and pleading cries of Severus Snape invaded her dreams.
To be continued
I apologise for the shortness of this chapter. It seemed a logical place to break.
Many thanks to michmak and southernwitch69 for their comments and advice.
