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Chapter 6

The Cat Tickles the Dragon

Hermione found herself back in the Shack again, Beppy having disapparated immediately after dropping her off.

The late afternoon sun was barely visible through the boarded-up slat windows, even the gaping hole in the wall that Voldemort had flown through not illuminating much of the room. Snape's blood shone in a large puddle on the floor, not yet dry but still shiny, congealed, and sticky.

Why am I back here? Hermione thought. Do I need to do anything else before I leave? Is that why Future-Me said I needed to come back?

She scanned the room once more.

Hermione felt herself moving forward and reaching into her satchel bag, almost on instinct. She had felt the same sensation when she rifled through Snape's pockets for the vial of antivenin the previous evening. It was not that she hadn't had control of herself then, her own actions or decisions. It was her own idea. She had followed her own train of thought, knowing that Snape may have found a preventative solution to being poisoned with Nagini's venom. It was her own idea to look in his pockets, only…

"…be forewarned that it does come up quite a few times when the only explanation is, 'It already happened that way'."

That's how it felt now, as if it had already happened this way, and Hermione's actions now were just following her own logical train of thought that had already happened somehow in the timeline. Hermione slowly walked to the other end of the ramshackle room and removed a plastic bag filled with unused gauze, tape, and other muggle medical supplies from her satchel bag. She dumped the materials out of the plastic bag and onto the dusty wooden floor, then used the bag to scoop up what she needed without touching it. She gingerly sealed the bag closed, then pulled the Time-Turner out from under her blouse by its chain.

She carefully turned the cogs.

08.09.1996

20:50:00

There. That gives me ten minutes to get to the Defense classroom for detention. It's not much time to get there through the passage…but honestly…it's better to be late than to run into myself on the way to the Headmaster's office.

Then Hermione closed her eyes and spun the Time-Turner's hourglass hanging around her neck as it clicked into place.

"Enter."

He didn't look up from the parchment on his desk, even as the door opened and a figure slipped inside before closing it. He continued with his spidery scrawl, dipping his quill in the black ink bottle to his right as needed. He heard her sit quietly and take out a few things from her bag.

He waited to speak until she had settled herself and begun writing for a few minutes, so as to better unnerve her.

"Is there a reason, Miss Granger," he drawled without looking up from his writing, "that you are late to your conveniently scheduled alibi?"

"I- I'm sorry, sir?"

He almost smirked. Too easy.

"I was informed by the Headmaster that you were to have detention with me this evening." He still had not looked up from his writing, conveniently hiding slightly behind the curtain of black hair tilted downward as he wrote. "The normal practice is for teachers to oversee their own detentions or else to pawn them off to those in charge of communal areas such as the grounds or the Hospital Wing. For a detention to be assigned by the Headmaster himself and not to be the consequence of a serious offense…the kind that is gossiped about in the corridors by even the most out-of-the-loop first year is…" he paused here, to perfect effect as he raised one eyebrow, "…unusual, to say the least."

Knowing he had given her enough time to turn red, he looked up at the girl and nearly faltered.

She was properly dressed in her full uniform, her bouncy brown hair was perfectly in place (in fact, it was better tamed than it usually was), and she looked well. Her eyes, however, and the expression on her face made her appear a few years older.

Experience that separated a youth from an adult.

She…it can't be.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," he whispered. "Why am I your alibi tonight?"

Hermione Granger appeared to have paused in her writing. She had a leatherbound notebook open in front of her on the desk, her hand holding a quill and paused in midair. She looked surprised, as he had meant her to, but she looked…something else.

Concerned...about my reaction. Not frightened, concerned.

Professor Snape sneered and stood, pushing back his chair from the desk. "Come. I will escort you to the Headmaster myself now that I have finished grading. You may pretend that you are being disciplined for this imagined grave offense and your whereabouts this evening will remain unquestioned."

"NO!" She jumped out of her seat, forcefully, eyes wide with worry.

"Miss Granger…" he hissed threateningly, walking around to the front of the desk.

"We can't go yet! Professor Dumbledore is…" she trailed off lamely. "He's busy right now." She fidgeted with her hands.

Snape kept his glare, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. "I see. Then you are in fact Professor Dumbledore's alibi." He paused for a little, leaning back to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, clearly still thinking it through.

Something has changed with her, but what? Albus swore he would tell me if…or when…But should I trust him to keep that promise? No, of course not. Not if it interferes with his chess strategy.

His black eyes narrowed, and his arms and shoulders tightened. "Or rather," he hissed again, "you are my distraction, and the Headmaster does not wish for me to know what he is busy with." He damn well better not be sending her back in time.

"I wouldn't say that, sir." She said quietly. "I think you are to be my escort to the Headmaster's office once he is finished with his current appointment. He should be done by about 9:30 and we can leave then."

"And why should I be needed to escort you to the Headmaster's office?"

"Because he must want you to know…at least part of what I need to talk to him about." She looked at him more confidently now, meeting his gaze appraisingly.

She can't have…no. Not yet. She wouldn't dare be this roundabout with me if she knew.

"Very well, Miss Granger." He sneered again, leaning back against the desk with his arms still crossed over his chest. "I am all aquiver with anticipation."

He left a pregnant pause between them, to further unsettle her.

"Sir," she said, more tentatively now. "Can I ask you a question? Just something I'm curious about."

"Haven't you heard, Granger? Curiosity killed the cat." He did not show it in his demeanor, but he held his breath waiting for her reply.

She bit her lip and looked away. "I…I promise it's relevant to both Defense and Potions, sir."

He softly exhaled and looked away. No, definitely not yet then.

"Yes?" He grumbled, not sure if he was more disappointed or relieved at her lack of reaction.

"Last year…Mr. Weasley was attacked by…a snake," she whispered. After getting out her initial thoughts, she continued on quickly. "We were all very worried about him, of course, and I'm very glad he's made a full recovery, but I was wondering just…how." She looked up at him, gauging his approval. He had not shown any outward signs of annoyance yet, so she drove on. "He was bleeding a lot, I remember, and the healers were even considering using muggle methods to seal the wound…like stitches, but they were having trouble with the venom from that particular snake. I just wonder if you knew…If you knew how they finally solved it." She finished somewhat lamely, looking at him questioningly.

"I believe that is a question for the St. Mungo's staff." He said icily before pausing and bringing a finger to his lips thoughtfully, remembering who the St. Mungo's staff were. "The Smethwyck, Cook, and Pye families are constantly filling up the ranks of healers to spell us all back together. Galen Smethwyck took a few apprentices who graduated around the same time I did, so Professor Slughorn should remember who they were. Also, if I am not mistaken, Madam Pomfrey has some Pye cousins. She may have some insight." He stopped his musing, removed his hand from his mouth, and remembered to glare down at her.

Don't lose your touch because you're curious yourself, Severus.

He reluctantly allowed her to return to her notebook to write while he waited impatiently for the appointed time to escort her to the Headmaster's office. He reminded himself that he was not being kind so much as being accommodating in hopes that he would be permitted to hear whatever information she was tasked to relay.

Permitted. As if I am not trustworthy enough for him, even after all this time.

He chanced covert glances at her as she wrote furiously, soft brown curls bouncing around her head and bittersweet memories flooding back to him in waves.

No, stop that you fool. You have enough to worry about with Draco and…the damn thing you've actually been entrusted with.

He smirked to himself, thinking of the 'test' he had just given Hermione Granger.

Curiosity killed the cat indeed.

Professor Snape had mellowed somewhat as the Defense professor, despite the gruesome pictures he displayed in his classroom and the recent detention he had given Harry for losing his temper in class. As a teacher, he was ever passionate for his subject, as both her first Potions class and first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with him had begun with a descriptive introduction to the material, enticing her with his voice, if no one else. That was only as her teacher though, before any of the last few days had happened.

How can I look at him the same way again? She thought for the thousandth time. It was so hard to meet his eyes now, if it had ever been easy to begin with. Those deep pools of dark water.

After arriving in her pretend detention, which Snape had been sure to call her out on, she had written down as much as she could think of about the last few days in the leatherbound journal. She had tried to do so without thinking of the last time she had seen him, being nursed back to health and caressed and whispered to gently by…herself.

As she peeked surreptitiously at him from behind her curtain of hair, Hermione felt the familiar aching in her chest that had started in the derelict house on Spinner's End in 1998. The aching and groaning gong had combined with the fluttering now and the sensation was both wonderful and awful at the same time. She felt elated, terrified, and in awe of him, as if she were standing at the edge of a great cliff, watching a storm-ridden sea crash against the rocks. Looking out on the beautiful and strong tableau, should she be afraid of the height, the sea, the fall? Should she admire the scene of dark beauty and power playing out before her?

She did not want to fall, and she was terrified of heights.

Yet that dark water ebbed and flowed in such an enticing way…

"Miss Granger! Ah, and you've brought Professor Snape! How lovely to see you both. Do sit down, won't you?" Albus Dumbledore waved them into the office and towards the chairs in front of his large desk. He sat patiently at the desk, resting his elbows on the desk, and entwining his fingertips together, waiting for the report he knew would come. Hermione had hardly even noticed his blackened hand the last time she had seen it. Now it only made her inwardly revulsed and sick. It was reminiscent of death, and she had just seen someone die. Dead and dying, her heart groaned again.

"Professor." She declined to sit, wondering how to proceed from here.

Bluff, Hermione. You're playing poker with a card shark.

"You were successful in your mission, I expect?" She nodded, still trying to think of what to say and what not to say. She sensed Professor Snape stiffening behind her.

"I was, sir," she said carefully, "but I think you already knew that."

"Oh indeed, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore merely looked amusedly surprised. "And why is that?"

"Because we've already spoken about this before…" She looked up at him defiantly, ready for the hammer to come down. "…and this was only my first assignment, wasn't it?" She whispered the last part, her eyes not leaving his blue ones.

Dumbledore removed his hands from the top of the desk and stood quietly. "Severus leave us. You may wait outside until I call you in."

"Albus, I think I have the-"

"Not now, Severus!" The Headmaster almost roared. An aura of magic was radiating from him and Hermione didn't think she had ever seen him this angry before.

You've prodded the lion. Tickled the sleeping dragon…

She felt Snape stalk out of the room, his robes billowing in his wake.

Dumbledore came to stand in front of her, the silence between them oppressive. Hermione tried to show that she was far braver than she felt.

Future-Hermione better be damn right about this…of course, why would I tell myself any different if it didn't work?

"How?" His stern gaze met hers behind the half-moon spectacles.

"S-sir?"

"How do you know about our other conversation, Miss Granger? Have you returned from the date on the parchment that I gave you…or have you returned from another time entirely?" Right…because when I had this conversation with him it was past for him, but future for me. So no, that hasn't happened for me yet.

"I went to May 1998 for a few days and came straight back," she reassured him.

Professor Dumbledore visibly sighed, relaxing slightly. He continued to stare her down, however. "Then how do you know about the other parchment? The other mission?"

I can't tell him about meeting myself, but how do I convince him I know what's going to happen without telling him what's going to happen? If I try talking and I can't reveal the right things, then he'll know it's all a lie. Why can't I trust him anyway? This makes no sense! If I can't trust Dumbledore, how can I trust anyone?

And then it came to her, again, like instinct. The only explanation was that it must have already happened this way. She must have already had this thought or somehow already acted on it.

"Severus," she whispered, looking up at him.

The headmaster's eyes widened. "No."

"He saw me. In 1998. That's how I know. I know…everything." Severus had confided in her. Future-Severus, that is. This explained her knowledge without actually giving too much away.

She hid her shock well when she saw Dumbledore retreat, almost stumble, back to the desk and numbly seat himself back in his chair behind it.

Hermione continued to speak as he listened, occasionally commenting. She would not tell an outright lie, but she also could not tell him exactly what had occurred. She settled for the most important truth and removed the item she needed from her satchel.

Severus Snape entered the room upon seeing the door swing magically open for him. Thank the gods. I would have worn a hole in the floor outside if I waited any longer.

"Severus," the Headmaster addressed him quietly. "Miss Granger has just finished telling me about the mission she was sent on for the Order. You will be pleased to know that she was successful." The Headmaster gestured to a plastic bag on top of his desk.

Severus walked over to the desk calmly, examining the contents of the bag. "A rat, Albus?"

"Miss Granger, if you would explain?"

"Yes, of course, sir." She turned to look up at Snape. "I spoke to you earlier about the difficulty of healing someone who has suffered from a venomous snake bite. This rat contains the venom of…a particularly dangerous snake."

Snape's eyes widened and he whipped back around to the Headmaster. "You cannot be serious."

"Perfectly, Severus. It would be wise to use this to develop an antidote, I think. It may become useful in the future." He could have sworn he heard a muffled snort from the girl, but he ignored it.

"Albus," Snape said menacingly, "you sent an underage student on an Order mission to follow the Dark Lord and his favorite pet? Simply to get a sample of its venom, which we know from experience to already be found in the Dai Llewellyn ward at St. Mungo's?" His voice rose steadily as he spoke, finally yelling. "What if she had been seen? If she had been caught by the Dark Lord or any number of Death Eaters?!"

"It was necessary!" Hermione Granger cried out, her wild curls bouncing as she exclaimed. "It was a matter of life and death! Now we have the means to save- to save someone!" She flushed furiously, covering her stammer.

Ah, of course. His face grew hot with anger, as if he hadn't already been furious. Potter. Potter again who is so important, so vital to risk everything for, her own life for. Always a Potter. I once believed it to be Potter the greater, now of course I know the truth and it is, has always been, Potter the lesser. Scratch that- neither is greater. They are similarly lowly and self-absorbed, yet they steal the affections of every woman I have ever loved.

Severus took out his wand and performed a freezing charm on the bag before picking it up. "I shall brew the antivenin this week."

"Wonderful," said the Headmaster quietly. "Miss Granger shall assist." His blue eyes flashed. It was not up for discussion.

Severus sneered. "Delightful."

"Please escort Miss Granger back to Gryffindor Tower, Severus. She is out past curfew, and we wouldn't want any questions arising."

"But Professor Dumbledore, sir…" Hermione hesitated, glancing sideways at Snape. "The other thing I spoke to you about…"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "I will consider it, Miss Granger. I have not yet made my decision as to whether you are ready for any additional assignments."

Severus looked at her and saw she was biting her lip, not nervously, but angrily. He felt his own anger slowly subsiding at her frustration. Good, Albus is keeping his word. He won't be sending her back any time soon and he'll damn well warn me or tell me beforehand if he has to. He followed Hermione out of the office quietly after nodding a curt goodbye to the headmaster.

With any luck it won't happen at all now, she won't go back, the timeline will be altered entirely and…He sighed bitterly to himself…I'll only have Albus's murder on my hands to worry about.

Once back in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione snuck quietly up to her room, careful not to wake the other girls. After grabbing some pajamas from her trunk, she closed the curtains on her four-poster to get dressed and ready for sleep, placing a silencing charm on the curtains as she did so. She was wired still and opted to spend a few minutes writing in her leatherbound journal again.

Snape had wordlessly escorted her through the halls, stalking behind her all the way. He had told her to wait for his message to know which night to claim another detention to brew the antivenin. Then he sneered at her and billowed away like a bat.

If she hadn't felt completely jittery in his presence before, she certainly did now. Since she had experienced Snape's behavior towards her in 1998 and was able to compare it to his behavior towards her now, she knew what the difference in his mannerisms was. In the future, the nervous energy between them was bristling attraction. In the present, it was seething and resentful anger.

How the hell do we move on from here?

She shook her head and made a to-do list for the remainder of the week. After successfully editing her weekly study and class schedules with the things she had already planned to do pre-future trip ("practice nonverbal spells, research potential Half-Blood Prince origins, write to Tonks and ask if she needs anyone to talk to"), she turned to the leatherbound book and wrote concluding to-do points to sum up her journey.

Genealogy – Write to Mum and ask about family history. Casually bring up potential exit strategies they can use to go into hiding. Holiday in Australia? Stay with relatives on the Italian side?

Antivenin – Talk to M. Pomfrey or Prof. Slughorn about antivenin healing treatments. How was Mr. Weasley healed? Ask Ron again? Mrs. Weasley?

She scratched out the part about asking Ron or his mother. Ron probably wouldn't remember the details, and Mrs. Weasley would either get suspicious and ask too many questions or cry at the bad memory. Probably a bit of both.

After pausing for a bit and sucking on the end of her quill, she wrote the last item down before she whispered a quick "Nox" and tried to sleep.

Find out everything you can about Severus Snape.