Chapter Six
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"Did you have a nice holiday?" Alecto asked Hermione politely, as the group congregated around the Slytherin table on the first night back.
"Quite pleasant," Hermione nodded. "I like the quiet. How about yourself?"
Alecto's face fell for a split second, and Hermione saw the dumpy girl shoot a frightened look at her brother, seventh year Amycus, who was sitting a few seats away with Lucius Malfoy. Hermione suppressed a shudder.
"Oh yes, it was fine," Alecto said a moment later. Her tone was rather subdued.
"Well I had a simply terrible time!"
Arabel Selwyn slid into the seat opposite Hermione and Alecto, pursing her pretty lips as though she had tasted something unpleasant. "My father has the most awful ideas about which parties are best to attend, and dragged mother and I to some really unpleasant gatherings."
"How dreadful for you," Hermione murmured.
"Watch your mouth Arabel," Rabastan said, leaning across the table. "You don't talk about his parties like that."
"I'll talk about them how I like," Arabel sniffed. "The food was second rate, and as for the entertainment…"
But what exactly was so bad about the entertainment Hermione never found out, as at that moment Professor Dumbledore stood up and began his start of term speech. At least it gave Hermione ample time to consider the implications of what she had just heard. Considering there was no record of an Arabel Selwyn in her time, it gave Hermione a very bad feeling about Arabel objecting to the Dark Lords gatherings.
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Although Snape had loosely agreed to show Hermione where he kept his muggle herbs in the greenhouses, he didn't broach the subject again as term began. They were on friendlier terms, but rarely socialised. Hermione had all but given up when she found herself collared on the way to herbology one morning.
"Black!"
"Get off me!" Hermione snapped, pulling her robes free. Snape took a step back, looking embarrassed. A red flush stole across his cheeks.
"Sorry. It's just that it's so hard to catch you on your own."
Hermione conceded that was true. The Slytherins rarely went anywhere unaccompanied.
"What do you want?"
Snape looked around as if to check there were no observers. "Do you still want to see my herbs?"
"Took your time," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "Christmas was weeks ago."
"Yes well, I've been busy," Snape muttered. "Look, if you want to see them, meet me at Greenhouse Four at lunchtime."
Snape strode off after the rest of their class without another word, and Hermione narrowed her eyes after him. She was starting to realise that the snarky Professor she had known in her own time hadn't been entirely a product of his spying years. It seemed that Snape was just simply...Snape.
When herbology finished and the rest of her class began to meander back up to the castle, Hermione deliberately lingered behind in the humid greenhouse. Rabastan, Alecto and Arabel waited at the door for Hermione, but she waved them off as casually as she could.
"I'll see you after lunch. I need to talk to Professor Sprout about something."
When her friends finally left, Hermione noted that Snape had already slipped out. Feeling the slight thrill of doing something out-of-the-ordinary, Hermione looked out of the doors to check there was no-one watching, and then scurried across to Greenhouse Four.
Inside there was a profusion of plant life. Hermione had to duck beneath the umbrella-sized leaves of an exotic looking banana plant, and dodge a lazy snap from the fanged geranium trying its luck. Greenhouse Four was generally reserved for advanced seventh year students working on their own personal projects, particularly dangerous experiments that needed to be kept away from the rest of the students.
"Hello?" Hermione called, peering into the gloom. The voice-sensitive glass had been adjusted to twilight, and it was dim and hot inside. Hermione was glad she was already wearing her herbology robes or she would have been sweating heavily.
"Through here!"
Hermione followed the voice around a corner of stacked plant pots, and stared in disbelief. Snape whipped his head around, and immediately scowled.
"What?!"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
It wasn't nothing. Hermione had just about accustomed herself to the concept of Snape as another student, but this was something else. The teenager had stripped off his outer robes to reveal a pair of blue jeans, and a dirty black T-shirt with a familiar slogan.
Snape listens to Metallica? Seeing Snape in muggle clothes was high up on the list of things Hermione couldn't possibly imagine.
"Good. Come have a look then."
Hermione stepped closer, and gazed down at what she was seeing. Snape had an entire dedicated corner of the greenhouse, separated from the rest of the plants by a metre or more. The rich, fertile bed of dark moist earth was lined with innocuous looking grey pebbles.
"Are those magic-blockers?"
"Magic-blockers," Snape snorted. "Anti-Magi stones, you mean."
Hermione grimaced, embarrassed. It was rare that she forgot herself and used such a muggleborn expression. "Yes, that's what I meant."
"Yes, keeps all the magic from the rest of the plants away from them."
Hermione crouched down to take in the plants Snape was growing. It was quite an extraordinary collection he was creating, spanning square several metres of earth. Tiny shots of green poked through the moist soil at several points, while other plants had flourished and were already almost a foot high. Hermione counted almost two dozen varieties.
"This is brilliant," Hermione breathed, unable to help herself. Snape looked very pleased.
"It isn't bad," he conceded. "Of course a little bit of Magic will always leach through after long enough exposure, but that can't be helped."
"How long have you had this?" Hermione asked.
Snape shrugged. "Since fourth year, when I realised why none of my experiments were working."
Fourth year! He was experimenting from fourth year?
"That's quite impressive."
"I know."
Unable to help herself, Hermione laughed. Snape scowled at her for a moment, and then he grinned suddenly. Hermione was floored. She would never have been able to picture a smile on the face of Severus Snape, and it was as bright and unexpected as a sunny day during the Scottish winter.
"Arrogant sod," Hermione mumbled, examining the plants closer. She could feel Snape smirking at her.
"Yes."
Hermione walked around the herb garden, observing the complicated irrigation system that had been rigged up above it. She wondered where on earth Snape had gotten his hands on a muggle plant-watering system, considering all of the other plants were sustained by slow-release aquamenti charms. As she examined, Snape said nothing. He seemed content to let her explore without comment. Finally, Hermione finished her observations.
"Well," she said after a long moment, not sure how to work up to what she wanted to ask. "This is really something you've got here. Really special."
Snape didn't say anything, and Hermione remembered how much he hated it when people stated the obvious. And she was almost certain he would say no to what she wanted to ask...but if she didn't ask now..
"Just spit it out," Snape said suddenly. "Stop wringing your hands like that."
Hermione grimaced. The nervous habit she had picked up in prison had lingered in her new life, and she was having trouble breaking it.
"Do you think I could help you? And in return...could I use some of these?"
Snape stared at her incredulously. "You? Help me?"
"Yes Snape," Hermione said crossly. "Me. No need to sound so surprised."
"No, no." Snape corrected, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that. I just...nobody really cares about potions ingredients except me, not when you can get them from the store cupboard."
"Well I do," Hermione sniffed. "Quality is important. Especially for me if I'm going to beat your marks."
Snape cracked a grin. "Not on your life Black. You're good - but not that good."
"Is that a yes? You'll let me help?"
"One one condition."
"What is it?"
Snape hesitated for moment, scratching his head awkwardly. Hermione grimaced at the flakes of dandruff in his greasy hair. Finally after a moment he broke his silence.
"Last term you...you helped me. I couldn't defend myself like that. I... I want a trade."
"You want to practice defense?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"No, Black. I want you to teach me. And believe me I'm not enjoying the process of asking."
Hermione stared at Snape for a long moment. She could understand why he would ask, after the demonstration that she had performed in front of him a few months ago. But it struck her as strange to see Severus Snape asking anyone for help, let alone her.
"You know what? Forget it," Snape snapped, turning away with his cheeks reddening. "Never mind, I'll do it myself."
"No, no," Hermione broke it. "Sorry, I was just surprised. Yes, I'll teach you."
"You will?" Snape sounded surprised, and still slightly defensive.
"Yes. I will."
As she walked back to the castle a short while later, Hermione wondered just what she was letting herself into.
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"Where were you after herbology?" Rabastan asked a few hours later, while the Slytherins lounged around the common room.
"I went for a walk," Hermione lied. "Around the forest."
"Why would you do that?" Arabel asked, frowning as though the idea was particularly distasteful to her.
"Clear my head," Hermione shrugged. "Why not?"
Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she felt the urge to conceal her plans with Snape from the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps it was because she believed there was a possibility he could be saved, while she had no such illusions about the rest of them. Their pact was something she wanted to keep private, in case she failed.
"I'm getting an early night," Hermione said, a short while later. She faked a yawn, and her friends nodded goodnight to her.
Hermione wasn't tired at all, but she needed a chance to write up more notes in her little blue book. She had only written up to D so far, and she couldn't remember very much about Dolohov. Not for the first time she wished that she had only been able to keep her beaded bag with her. An updated copy of Hogwarts: A History that covered the 1980s would have been invaluable.
But when Hermione entered the girl's dormitory, she felt immediately that something was wrong. There was a funny noise coming from the bathroom, a kind of sniffling. Warily, and with her wand outstretched before her, Hermione approached the door.
She had learnt her lesson about knocking, and didn't given any warning, but simply pushed the door open in one smooth motion.
"Oh!"
"Alecto?" Hermione said with surprise, taking a step backwards. "What are you doing?"
Alecto was sitting with her knees drawn up, her body turned away from Hermione in a curled up defensive posture. Her face was wet, and her eyes were red. It was obviously that the sniffling sound had been Alecto allowing herself a good sobbing session.
"Nothing," Alecto stammered, pushing her hands into her pockets. She stood up and wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe, and Hermione had to hold back a grimace.
"What's the matter?" She tried again.
"Nothing," Alecto insisted, although her eyes were filling again. Hermione pulled several sheets of toilet roll from the holder and handed them to the other girl, who blew her nose loudly.
Hermione wasn't entirely sure what to do with the situation. It seemed so wrong to comfort a Death Eater, but she would look entirely heartless if she walked away. A twinge of guilt was also in there, as she looked at the chubby sixteen year old who bore so little resemblance to her older self. Alecto was a mess, and Hermione wasn't sure why.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Alecto insisted, standing up a little taller. "I'm fine. Honestly."
Unable to push the issue, Hermione decided to give it up as a bad job. She left Alecto mopping at her face in the bathroom, and headed for her bed where she had been going in the first place.
But as she made careful notes on everything she could remember about the Death Eater called Gibbons, her mind was across the room in the bathroom with the crying girl. Alecto was often quiet and withdrawn, but Hermione assumed that was slowness, rather than reticence. Now she made an unconscious choice to watch more closely.
What she observed about Alecto over the next several days disturbed Hermione. She noticed that the girl often picked at her food, that she disappeared into the bathroom late at night, and that she avoided her brother Amycus at all costs. All of it added up to a sinister picture.
Hermione didn't know what to do, so she wrote it all down and hoped an opportunity to find out more would present itself.
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A few days later, Hermione was heading to lunch when she heard voices up ahead in the corridor, and sped up. Someone was haranguing another student, and it sounded intriguing.
"It's irresponsible, that's what it is!"
"I would have done it," a male voice said coaxingly. "I just didn't have time."
"Too busy with quidditch practice I suppose," the first voice hissed. "And now you want me to save your skin!"
Hermione turned the corner curiously, and a smile spread itself across her face. Harry's parents were arguing in the corridor, and it was really rather sweet. Lily was clutching several pages of notes, and spitting fire, her blazing green eyes remorseless as she pinned James Potter against the wall with her gaze.
"Don't be like that Lils," James said piteously, his eyes imploring. "I'll give them straight back to you."
"After you've lent them to Sirius," Lily growled. "So he can be similarly irresponsible."
James opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly caught sight of Hermione out of the corner of his eye. His posture instantly went from pleading to defensive, and he raised his wand in readiness. Lily followed his gaze, and when she saw Hermione she snorted.
"Really James, she's hardly going to attack you."
"She's done it before," James growled, keeping his wand trained on Hermione.
Hermione sauntered towards him, deliberately leaving her wand in her pocket to show her unconcern. Lily was frowning now, glancing warily from James to Hermione.
"You attacked James?" Lily asked with an uncertain look. Hermione noticed the prefect badge on her robes and smiled. Lily reminded her of herself, many years ago.
"Potter deserved it," Hermione threw out carelessly. "He was torturing Snape again. Four on one. But don't worry - he promised never to do it again."
"Is that true? You attacked Severus again?" Lily spun to look at James, who shrank back against the wall and raised his hands appeasingly.
"Of course not. I wouldn't -"
"You know you would," Hermione said, stopping in front of him. "Don't lie. But you've promised to stop, haven't you?"
"Yes," James said hoarsely. Something in Hermione's expression seemed to unnerve him, and he kept glancing at her pocket where he knew her wand was hidden.
Hermione nodded and smiled at Lily before walking on down the corridor. She couldn't help the warm feelings she felt when she saw Harry's parents in front of her. She could so easily picture a future for them where their lives were not cut short, and they raised their son themselves and perhaps even had other children.
Behind her she heard the conversation start up again. She didn't want to come between that couple - she would never be able to forgive herself if Harry wasn't born. But Hermione wouldn't tolerate the behaviour that James was so fond of, and in spite of his promise she would still be keeping a wary eye on him.
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Thanks for reading,
Cas
