Translated by Jessinthedungeons.
Chapter 2 - Nothing
— The meeting will happen at the Great Hall, Hermione. — Hagrid winked at me as he headed toward the hallway that led to the kitchen, with a sack full of giant pumpkins on his back.
— Thanks! See you later. — I gave him a big smile and nodded, shifting my gaze to the huge mural on the wall behind him, in the same spot where the house points' hourglasses had once been.
It was a picture of the Great Hall in the moment we won the war against Voldemort. None of us knew about the loss of magic yet, we were exhausted but relieved and thrilled with the victory. Even covered in soot, blood, and dirt, the image portrayed the feelings we felt at that moment: relief, joy, and peace. Harry was right in the middle of the picture, with my arms wrapped around his neck and Ron's arms crushing both of us around the waist.
I wonder to this day who took this photograph. Colin Creevey died in the battle. It was one of the losses I felt the most. He was an amazing boy, with a pure heart, and in this new world we live in today, Colin would also be a powerful wizard, because, like me, he was muggle-born. I sighed. There was no time to be sad.
It's been three days since the interview and, so far, I haven't heard from a single person about the huge idiot I've made of myself. Not a single phone call, an owl, or a text from someone telling me they saw what happened. I was used to being teased for the things I did, so I was prepared for all that. But I still dreaded the day the video would leak. But I hid the worry in the back of my head. Priorities. I had priorities, like today's.
Professors and students were always called for an introductory meeting, before training resumed. The main objective was to know the new schedules, review the rules, and a lot of other details that they would always stress about how all the magic in the world was now in our hands. Just over a hundred muggle-born wizards and witches, and three times that of half-bloods.
I took a seat in the middle of the former Hufflepuff table, after waving and greeting some of the students closest to me. I saw Sinistra and Vector, who had given me a hug after the interview where she tried not to laugh, in a corner of the room.
Someone yelled.
— Mione!
It was Dean. I used to hate him in a friendly way, because he and Seamus had, in the past, competed with Fred and George for the title of the most mischievous duo in Gryffindor tower, which was a torment to my days as a prefect. But he was nice, kind, and my hatred for him used to last about twenty seconds.
— Dean.
I waved at him and he pointed to the chair on his right, asking me to sit down. I waved at a few other students nearby, most of whom were looking around suspiciously, and I also took one more quick look at the professors to make sure Professor Snape wasn't hiding among them. He wasn't.
Stop it, Hermione! Focus!
Dean sat up straight to give me a hug.
— I'm so happy to see you. — He said.
Most of the students didn't live at Hogwarts all year, and he was one of them, he would return to his home in London when the school year was over.
Everyone in the room seemed to be moving. The younger students were keeping an eye out, an air of anticipation saturating everything. I had to hold back a few more times to stop doing it too. I caught Dean looking around, and checking his breath, he blushed when he realized I saw what he was doing.
— You know, I'm hoping he comes with a halo above his head, since everyone thinks he is some kind of Avenging Angel. — Dean paused for a moment before quickly adding. — As a war hero, I mean.
I nodded and smiled at him. I was familiar with his type, and they were not black-haired, hook-nosed wizards. Dean's boyfriend for two years was a six-foot-tall beast, a former Durmstrang student, now without an ounce of magic in his veins, but who could crush anyone with his large biceps.
— Don't make me call Ivan.
From the smile on his face I knew that he, and Ivan himself, had already chatted about how the former headmaster of the old Slytherin house would look like.
— Hi, Dean. — Said a familiar voice above us.
Almost immediately, two hands grabbed my face and crushed my cheeks. Then, two narrow black eyes appeared over my head.
— Hello, Cho.
— Granger, I missed you. — She said.
Cho Chang was one of the most powerful half-blood witches. Even though half of her power was gone, she was still incredibly good at spells.
— Liar!
Her response was to pinch my nostrils together with one hand, cutting off my breath.
— I almost forgot the size of this mane of yours. Is there any muggle food there? — She asked, still peeking over my head, and finally letting go of my nose.
I pulled three chocolate-flavored granola bars out of my bag, her favorites.
— That's why I always have your back. — She said with a satisfied sigh. — I will torment you later, so you can tell me what's going on the professors' favorite mind when she is about to welcome back "dear" Professor Snape.
I groaned, and Cho patted the top of my head comfortingly before returning to her chair across the table. She leaned over the edge and smirked at us as she took a bite of the granola bar. Dean and I looked at each other smiling. The three of us had always been on the same team since all the extensive training of wizards who still had gifts had begun, so we know each other a lot better today than we did in our pre-war years.
— How did Harry date her? She is…brusque.
Dean nodded. — Yes she is. Remember when she stunned you in practice? She only has half of her power and it still penetrated your shield.
My shoulder throbbed thinking about it, I fell over it as I collapsed to the floor. It was Cho's fault that I had chronic pain.
— I couldn't hold my own wand for three weeks afterwards. Of course I remember.
Minerva clapped hands once everyone had arrived and started the warnings for training preparations. Almost everyone in the room looked around, surprised that she was starting when someone was so obviously missing. No one knew if Minerva was really paying attention to his absence, or if she didn't care that he was late. If anyone thought it odd that the man who had double-sided for over twenty years with the greatest dark wizard of all time was not around for our first meeting, no one said anything.
— Professor Lupin moved with his family to Castelobruxo this summer, so the Ministry got in touch with a few different people to fill the position he left open. Severus Snape, whom we all know needs no introduction, will take over as assistant supervisor.
There was a small collective of deep breaths before Minerva continued.
— Although I know you are all adults and professionals, I will say it anyway: this is Professor Snape. Not the spy, not the bastard, and if I hear any of you call him a Death Eater, you are out of here. Understood? Later on, Sinistra will come here to talk about what you can and cannot post on that social network that you young people love. But please, in advance I ask you to have common sense.
I would never call Professor Snape a Death Eater to begin with, but with that threat, I don't even want to think of him as one, just to make sure I am on the safe side. With the awkward silence that fell among the group for the rest of the speech, it was obvious they all felt the same way. It was like we were juniors again, all sitting there looking absently and waving as the Headmistress of Hogwarts warned us of our possible detention or expulsion from the school. No, I would not let that happen to me.
At the end of her speech she stated her expectations for what she hoped to accomplish in her quest to combine ancient magic with our own, to try to break the curse that has numbed the magic of pure-bloods and half-bloods. She also talked about the limitations of access to the Forbidden Forest, and a list of conducts for when we were outside the castle.
It was the same conversation I heard previously at the beginning of each training semester. Only I had never been threatened with being expelled from Hogwarts if I spoke ill of a professor. I have worked too hard and too long to let something so stupid ruin my life.
Minerva talked a little more about what the professors would be focusing on during the six weeks between the start of classes and the start of travel seasons for tournaments with other wizarding schools. She introduced some Ministry guests and eventually Sinistra took over the lecture.
It was all Snape, Snape and more Snape.
― … will bring more attention to the team. We need to use press boost and audience excitement to turn him into focus. We still don't know the extent of his power after the events of the last wizarding war, but Severus has always been an exceptional wizard. He will be a valuable tool…
I knew they brought him in mainly because of the Ministry's interest in measuring the extent of his power.
―…if you are feeling down, rethink and bring your attention back to the team. Be motivated…
Be motivated?
— Severus should arrive tomorrow…
Dean kicked me under the table.
Sinistra wasn't kidding when she said the team would be getting more attention because of Snape's reappearance. What used to be a quiet, low-key event with only members of the student body apparating there, was now an event saturated with, believe it, vehicles. Which could only mean that powerless wizards who had adapted to traveling in Muggle means of transportation were present.
A small group of people were scattered across the space when I entered. I recognized some as students, but the others were strangers: journalists, reporters, wizards without magic, and possibly even Severus Snape fans. At least I hoped there were more fans.
It was not even the beginning of public demonstrations of practical spells; it was just our biannual assessment of magical aptitude and potential before training began, just to check that our magic was still the same. And yet, there were so many people…
Anxiety seared my stomach, and I took a deep breath to make the feeling go away. It didn't really work. One more deep breath, then another, and a third until my nerves were controlled enough to get out of the Apparition point without looking like I was fighting morning sickness.
About five seconds after I stepped into people's field of vision, I heard her.
— Granger!
Fuck my life.
— Hermione Granger! — The irritating female voice insisted. — Do you have a minute for me?
I pulled my bag farther over my shoulder and looked around to find the blonde standing away from the group of strangers. She nodded, and my stomach twisted, but, plastering a forced smile on my face, I waved back.
— Sure. — I replied convincingly.
— How are you, dear? — Rita Skeeter greeted me with a handshake. — I just have a few questions, if that's okay.
— Ok.
— My Quick-Quotes Quill was confiscated by the Ministry, so I will be recording this for documentation purposes. — Showing me the recording device in her hand, she hit the start button. — What is making you most anxious this semester? — She asked.
— I am really looking forward to starting it. We have some new wizards who have come from other countries and I am excited to see how much we can do together. — The fact that I looked like a well-adjusted human being made me proud.
― How do you feel about Severus Snape being hired as an assistant supervisor at Hogwarts?
It was the same question I had answered during the press conference days before.
— It is still very surreal. I am excited and I think it is great that we are having such an exceptional wizard coming to help us.
— He is an unlikely choice for an advisor, don't you think?
There. That was the question I knew everyone would ask. Professor Snape's past would never be fully forgiven. I stuck my hands in my pocket when I felt them starting to get damp. That kind of question was enough to turn me into a ticking time bomb.
— Yes, a different choice, but there is nothing wrong with him. He was awarded an Order of Merlin: First Class, and he risked his life more times than anyone else to defeat Voldemort. He knows what it takes to be the best, and that is something all of us here strive for. Also, I think it is unfair to discredit him before we have even given him a chance to prove himself. — I replied much more eloquently than my nerves would allow, perhaps indignation at Skeeter's suggestion that Snape was unreliable stirred my Gryffindor pride and a protective lioness took over my voice.
She gave me a disbelieving look but didn't argue with me about it.
— All right. What is your prediction for the new training sessions? Will we have a real breakthrough in the search for the "cure" of magic?
— That is the plan. — I smiled dryly at her. — And I need to leave, unless you have one more question?
— Ok. One more: do you have plans to join the official Ministry team soon?
I opened my mouth and left it open for a second before closing it.
— I do not plan on this anytime soon. I want to focus on learning from the new professors and researchers for now. — I swallowed hard and pushed her hand away from the tape recorder.
A second later, I was marching toward the Quidditch pitch, watching some of the other students get cornered by other reporters. Two other journalists called for me, but I declined with an apology. I had to warm up before our assessment began. Today, the evaluators would make us cast spells from the simplest to the most complex, duel opponents of the same magic level and even make transfigurations created in the third circle of hell, among other very difficult things they wanted to see. Some people really feared that, but I was not totally against our aptitude test. Was it fun? No. But I worked really hard all year so that I was not weezing, or lost, during a practice session, or in a magical display against other schools.
It has never been a secret that I like to be the first in everything. I work harder than anyone for a reason. I am fast and young, but the level of magic required by wizards who, like me, had full powers, were absurd.
And I also still carried some damage from the torture I received at Malfoy Manor. My nerve endings, especially in the lower limbs, have been a problem for the past five years. So I need to compensate by never being weak and putting my well-being first.
I had just left my stuff on the sidelines when it finally happened. It was the "Oh. My. Merlin" which came out of one of the witches I didn't know yet that made me stop to pay attention, and then I spotted him.
Oh bloody hell.
I was dead. Undoubtedly. There he was, all six feet tall, hair a little longer than I remembered, and the black cloak tied tightly around his shoulders, talking to Madam Hooch, the flight instructor who had no mercy on anyone.
I reached out to make sure my curls were not the nest they used to be when he last saw me, and then I stopped. What the hell am I doing? I dropped my hands immediately. I never cared about my appearance while studying and training. In fact, I rarely cared about it. I had only worn lip balm and a headband on my last date, and here I was, fixing my hair.
Snape nodded at something Madam Hooch said, and I felt…strange. To my utter horror, the girl who had dreamed of marrying him twitched inside me, reminding me of how she once felt. The best term to describe what was happening to me: struck by a star. Because... Severus Snape was the man who lied to Voldemort's face and survived deadly bites from a maledictus ― who was also a horcrux. He is a legend. Just like Harry is.
Alright… This is not going to work, not at all.
Rationally, I know that sighing for him is stupid. I am too old for this crap, and I only dreamed about him a couple of times. For Merlin's sake! I closed my eyes and thought of anything that might get me off the "holy shit, Snape is here" vibe. I forced myself to remember that he is just an ordinary wizard who, by the way, has lost half of his own magic. He is just a man. Okay, I'm fine.
I was really fine.
Until Dean unexpectedly bumped his elbow against my ribs, looking into my face with huge glazed eyes, almost dropping his head, pointing in Snape's direction. It was the universal friend sign: look at that guy you have a crush on. See him?
Idiot. I widened my eyes and mouthed, trying to say "shut up" to him, moving my lips as little as possible. Like any good friend, Dean didn't do what I asked. He kept elbowing me and driving me crazy with his stupid stares and head turns, trying to be discreet and failing miserably. I didn't look at him for long, just that first initial glance from more than fifty feet away and then one more, very quickly.
The silence in the field said more than enough about what everyone was thinking but could not actually say it out loud. But Dean fucking slammed his foot against mine as we cast simple wand spells. I knew deep inside me that I was never going to see the end of this. Damn time when, in a moment of drinking and playing truth or dare, things that should never be done together, I confessed to him that I had a crush on Professor Snape.
I had overcome my crush shortly after he recovered after the war and disappeared off the map. I finally accepted the fact that I would not have a chance with him, obviously. And not even in hell would he be interested in me, The Golden Girl, nineteen years his junior. There would be no marriage in my future, or babies with black eyes and wild curls, and that was the worst non-breakup in the history of my imaginary relationships, because my poor, innocent heart fed the idea that Severus Snape would fall head over heels in love with me one day.
But like all unrequited love, I got over it. He disappeared. Years passed. Life changed.
— Go on, idiot. — I whispered to Dean as he cast a leg binding spell on me and I defended it perfectly with a minimal movement of my hand.
He huffed and lowered his own wand, pulling me to the corner under the bleachers where we had our stretching session. There was a small group waiting, their voices still much lower than they normally would be. Sure enough Snape was standing nearby, with Minerva, Hooch, and Hagrid.
— He is taller than I thought.
I glanced out of the corner of my eye where the professors were, without it being completely obvious, and noticed that this was another thing I had forgotten about him: Snape was spectacularly tall compared to many wizards. The stupid girl in my mind whispered "he must be nice to cuddle". I groaned in frustration. How do I shut this idiot up?
Right. Focus. I can look at him without being a dreamy imbecile. I can be impartial. So I tried my best to do that. He looked bulkier than he had a few years ago when he disappeared from the wizarding world. He used to be thinner, probably because of the precarious living conditions he lived in, reconciling his roles as a professor and double agent. Now his face was fuller, his neck looked a little thicker, his arms too.
Focus!
But when I saw his face, something looked… different. He could not be called very handsome; he was, but in his untraditional way. His facial structure was rawer, intelligence oozing from the plenitude of his mouth and the color of his deep-set eyes, and he is an exceptional wizard who never cared during his life about not having a pleasant face. On the other hand, his confidence was blinding. A few sharper lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, which had not been there before, yet he still did not look his age.
The puzzle pieces were all there, but it was as if they were not put together correctly. I knew there was something different about him. In a furtive way, which I couldn't figure out what it was, and it bothered me. My instinct recognized the difference in him, but my eyes did not. What was it?
— Everybody here! — Minerva called us.
The group joined her silently and hesitantly. We looked like insects being called under the feet of Group, Hagrid's half brother. Snape and Minerva came side by side, along with Madam Hooch and a few other Ministry members who shook hands, greeting each other.
I fought the urge to stare at the black-clad man, I didn't need to give Dean any more space to mock my old obsession with Snape.
— Gentlemen, for those of you who do not know, I am pleased to introduce your new advisor, Severus Snape. Although he is familiar with many of you, let's break the ice real quick before we start, so please introduce yourself and tell him what your magic status is. — Minerva asked with a raised eyebrow, as if we were eleven-year-olds again.
Without missing a beat, one of the witches closest to the Headmistress began the circle of introductions. I watched him, his face and his reactions. He lowered his head the slightest bit each time a wizard or witch finished speaking. One after the other, half the group spoke, and I realized I was halfway through the semicircle when Dean spoke:
— Dean Thomas. — He smiled, just the way it always makes me smile back, no matter what kind of mood I was in. — Muggle-born, level 9.
It was my turn, and when his eyes landed on my face, I thought of Crookshanks' poop I had cleaned up this morning so I wouldn't give in under his gaze. Those black spheres didn't even blink.
― Hermione Granger, muggle-born, level 9.
He didn't lower his head to me, and not a second later, his attention had gone to the witch beside me. Well… ok. I guess I should be glad I canceled preparations for our imaginary wedding years ago.
I gave Dean a look out of the corner of my eye.
— Shut up.
He waited until the next wizard had stopped talking before answering.
— I didn't say a word.
— You were thinking about it.
— I haven't stopped thinking. — He admitted in a whisper and a stifled laugh.
My eye twitched on its own. Me neither.
I had just gotten into my bed after dinner when my phone rang. My ribs ached after the dueling session on the Quidditch pitch.
— Hi, harry. — I replied, sliding my cell phone into the space between my shoulder and ear.
He didn't waste a second.
— How was it?
How was it? How would I tell my best friend, now an outspoken Snape fan, that the day had been one big convulsive disappointment?
A disappointment. And I could only blame myself. No one had given me the impression that Snape was going to blow our minds with new spells and tips we had not thought of yet, especially not during a day set aside for aptitude tests. Or, perhaps, I predicted that the infamous temper for which he was renowned would present itself even worse than in the past. There was a reason he had been called a bastard my entire school term and that was part of the reason people liked him or not.
Today, however, he was not an asshole, or rude, or condescending. All the traits I would like to see in him, after all, he was the person who silenced a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors with just one look. The same person who had created impressive potions and spells. He was a Death Eater, who even fighting on the side of light certainly had to do violent and dark things I could not even begin to imagine. This was the same man who had put a killing curse on his own leader. He was an event I didn't know I wanted to see happening.
Instead, he stood still while we spoke our magic level, and after that, he watched us when he was not talking to Minerva. He didn't even take out his wand. The only thing I am sure any of us ever heard him say was "Good morning". That simple salute from the same man that emanated scorn from every pore. Whose every expression of his face whistled a non-verbal "Fuck!" to my teenage self.
What is wrong with me that I am complaining about Snape being so distant? So… nice?
Yes, there is something wrong with me.
I coughed into the phone.
— It was good. In fact, he didn't talk to us or anything.
— Oh. — Harry's disappointment was evident in the way he dropped the consonant so severely.
Well, I felt like an idiot.
— But I'm sure he is just trying to get used to us again. It must be different for him to see us as adults. He saw us children.
Maybe. Right?
— Nothing happened then?
I didn't need to close my eyes and think back about what had happened that day. Not a single thing. Snape just stayed behind and watched us duel and perform a variety of complex transfigurations.
And he didn't even roll his eyes, much less call us a bunch of incompetents, or idiots, or whatever else he had been known to call us when we were not at the level he had expected years ago.
— Nothing.
And it was the truth. Maybe Snape got shy over the years? Not likely, but it can be said. Or at least tell Harry that, so he wouldn't look so dejected after being so elated when he found out that Snape had returned to Hogwarts.
— But I won all the duels. — I added.
His laugh was sincere.
— That is my best friend. Have you been training at home?
— Every morning, and I've also been researching ancient blood magic. — I stopped talking when I heard a voice in the background.
All I heard was Harry mumbling.
— It's Hermione... Do you want to talk to her? ... Okay... Hermione, Ginny said "Hi".
— Say I said "hi" back.
― She said "Hi"... Yeah, she's fine. Hermione, you're fine, aren't you? — He asked.
— Yes, I am.
— Aside from the fact that she is disappointed that Snape didn't ask about me today, she's fine.
I smiled. Harry was obviously disappointed that Snape didn't try to bring up the conversation.
— I will try to tell him how you're doing, Harry, okay?
It was his turn to laugh.
— Oh yes, please!
— Call me tomorrow? I'm very tired, and I want to dip my feet in the foot bath.
An imperfect sigh came from him, but I knew he wouldn't say anything. His sigh said it all and more; it was a gentle, wordless reminder that I needed to take care of myself. We had discussed this a few hundred times in person. Harry and I understand each other differently.
— Ok, see you tomorrow. Good dreams.
— You too, Harry. Good night.
He said goodbye to me again and hung up. Sitting on my four-poster bed, in the room I have been occupying here in the castle for the past three years, I allowed myself to think about Snape and how he just stood there like one of the castle's impassive armors, just watching and watching and watching.
It was disappointing.
Final Notes
A few deviations from the canon that some of you may have already noticed:
Dean Thomas, in this story, is a muggle-born wizard.
Lupin and Tonks survived the Battle of Hogwarts and, although they are not part of this story, I wanted to point out that, unlike what the sadist JK did, my werewolf had a happy life.
Special thanks to munjaaay for the impeccable beta reading.
Translation by Jessinthedungeons.
