Translation by Jessinthedungeons.
Chapter 5 - Tension
― You look like garbage. ― Cho observed, and I nodded in agreement.
There are the morning people, who even after only a few hours of rest seem happy to be alive. And there are people like me, who wake up early just because I have to, and only get up after sitting on the edge of my bed staring absentmindedly into the void for at least another ten minutes. Add this to the fact that I had not been able to rest the night before, and I was now walking through the main hall while yawning.
And also, it is useless to say that I am very anxious about Snape, who had not yet appeared. He was sleeping soundly when I left this morning at around six, too cowardly to wait for him to wake up and face me at a vigil next to his bed. My neck was sore from sleeping in the uncomfortable chair and my body was in pain from dragging his ass around, but at least I knew he was alive. And I was brave enough to leave the note with my phone number scribbled, so he would know who saved his skin yesterday.
― Are you sick? ― Cho asked.
I denied it with my head as I slowly stretched out, letting out a muffled moan as I felt the pain in my back.
― I couldn't sleep last night. ― I answered, throwing myself into the chair in the main hall, trying to put my spine straight, which sent an even stronger pain to my back. ― Fuck! ― I whispered before swallowing the pain and looking at Cho, who had a raised eyebrow. ― I strained my back.
― Doing...? ― She questioned.
I just stared at her, I didn't want to make it look like I was hiding something.
― Dragging the weight of a drunk person around. — I explained.
Cho let out a mockery.
― You should have left them there, Hermione, isn't it today the day of the surgery?
How I wish I could have done that. A minute later, she handed me two small vials of analgesic potions.
― Here, here! ― Cho spoke softly, but coming from her it was a clear order for me to take them immediately.
― Thanks. ― I thanked her while I was unpacking them, and I drank. ― Won't you need them? I'll be at the hospital at two, you know, and I have unlimited access to the potions there.
― I won't need them. Justin is obsessed with potions. Perhaps the stock in our house is as large as that of Saint Mungus. ― Cho answered with a funny snort.
Someone grabbed the confused knot that was my hair.
― Are you okay? ― Dean's resounding voice asked me after a single glance at my face. He knows me too well.
― I have a pain in my back.
A groove formed between his eyebrows, as confused as Cho was about me being in such a bad state, knowing the surgery I would have ahead of me in the afternoon. We are all very concerned with taking care of each other when we have events that demand great magical reserves, so it seems strange to do something stupid that causes discomfort on such an important day.
― Want a massage later? ― Dean asked, dropping his backpack next to me.
Cho and I looked at each other at a glance in a single second and without even thinking twice, I answered:
― I'm fine, Dean. Thanks.
― Are you sure? ― He wanted to check.
If I was sure I didn't want to be mistreated by Dean's heavy hands? Yep. He could use those hands to torture people, as brutal as they are. So ... no, I didn't want the pain that would later accompany his massages.
― I'm sure. ― I said carefully not to hurt him. ― Cho gave me potions, I'll get better before your spell training starts.
Dean shrugged.
― Okay. Where will you be while we are training? ― He asked me.
― Library, isn't that obvious? ― Cho answered for me, rolling her eyes in amusement.
Dean let out a fun laugh when I confirmed it with my head.
― Where is he? ― I heard one of the girls, who passed behind us at that moment, ask.
He. I didn't have to look around, I knew very well who was the only person missing. I was sure to set the alarm clock on his bedside table to ring at seven o'clock in the morning. It was more than enough time for him to make it to Hogwarts. I looked at my phone again and checked if I had any missed messages or calls. Nothing yet. Oh, right.
Minutes later, as all the other students left for the Quidditch pitch for spell training, I picked up my backpack to go to the library, then I saw Minerva wave and head towards me.
― Is everything okay? ― She asked, as we were walking towards the exit from the main hall. ― Sorry I did not answer your call yesterday. I was asleep when you called.
Oh, shit! I completely forgot that I needed to come up with an excuse for Minerva.
― Oh, yes. Sorry about that, I called by mistake. ― I replied, hoping to sound convincing enough.
Minerva didn't seem to understand my lie.
― Oh dear, if it is something important next time, insist. Three years of using that mobile phone and I still can't wake up in time to answer it before it stops ringing. — She confessed.
Before I could smile at the realization that Minerva and her cell phone didn't get along very well, I saw out of the corner of my eye when he entered the main hall. I swallowed it dry, then pointed to the doors where he had just passed through.
― I'm going to the library.
Minerva smiled and nodded, gently patting me on the shoulder. I tried to get out of the Great Hall as quickly as possible, but as I walked towards the exit, I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder at the man in black robes.
Those black eyes that I had seen behind the smoke of cauldrons and on the professors' table in the Great Hall for six years in a row, were on me. Not looking past me or over me. But directly at me. And although there was not a measly expression in his features, there was no lack of intensity behind that look.
I had seen that intensity before, many years ago, when he accused me and Harry of helping Sirius escape, in our third year. It was the intensity of those who were three seconds away from losing control. Unlike the fear I felt of him back then, today I just straightened my shoulders and faced him back with my own blank face, after all, I had done nothing wrong. I rescued a teammate who was drunk, paid for a hotel room for him to stay, accommodated him, and even left a ticket. What else did he want? I didn't tell anyone what happened either. Not even Dean. Okay, maybe Snape doesn't believe I wouldn't tell anyone.
I looked forward again, reassuring myself that I had done nothing wrong. On the contrary, I did the best I could. Heads on your research Hermione, and on the immense surgery you have this afternoon. Worry about the things that really matter, rather than wasting your time blaming yourself for doing a good deed.
I concentrated with all my mental strength and headed to my favorite stronghold in the castle. Today I will start on a new set of old books that Viktor sent me from the Durmstrang library.
According to the letter he sent along with the collection, there was something intriguing and promising in those volumes. The first of them described in detail the family trees of the wizarding families of England, the so-called "Sacred Twenty-eight". I knew these trees well. Two years ago, we began to trace the bloodline of the pure bloods, in search of some anomaly that could have caused the extinction of magic. We didn't find anything, of course. But, if Viktor saw something promising, I would read everything with the same attention as when I first read it, and that was exactly what I did.
As they were arranged in alphabetical order, the first tree was that of the Abbott family. And right away, I noticed that there was a different detail: an extra name. My heart was racing when I rummaged through my previous notes and compared them with the tree names from the Bulgarian book. My index finger trembled as I went down the list of member names I listed in my survey two years ago, and realized that in fact Franklin Abbott's name wasn't there.
I went to the history of magic section, with my heart pounding in my chest. Did we miss some magic clue? And is it possible that this is the promising clue that Viktor suggested? I reached for the edition of the Pure Blood Directory, which we consider the original, handwritten by the fanatic Cantankerus Nott, and opened it on the Abbott family tree. No Franklin. And no "burn" on their tree, which would indicate that someone had been disinherited from the family.
For the next two hours, I compared each of the twenty-eight trees. And I found other names missing in three more families. It was as if those Wizards had never existed, but they had. Had they not? Why else would they be listed in another edition of the Directory, and in an edition that was sent to a school known for exclusively teaching pure blood wizards? It was public knowledge that many pure-blood families, such as the Potters, the Crabbes, and the Goyles were not listed in the Directory, and that many pure-blood supremacists of the time were angered by their lack of inclusion. Cantankerus Nott never assumed the authorship of the Directory precisely because it was rated as biased by the dissatisfied Wizards of the thirties. It was very plausible that he would send a private, much more detailed edition to a pure-blood stronghold like Durmstrang. This may not be a coincidence, nor an editing error.
The excitement ran through my body, as it always did when a promising clue showed up in front of me. I needed to investigate and, if possible, trace these lost members in the lineage of the four families to find out if they fit the anomaly that affected and extinguished the magic of pure-blooded Wizards. I delved more intently into the entire Abbott family history and, for the next two hours, I stuck to every detail of Franklin's grandparents and parents. I would start there. I made a mental note to schedule a conversation with Hannah, Neville's girlfriend, and the Abbott closest to me.
I searched for another hour and a half, until I carefully collected the research material and packed it in my backpack, and headed to the gardens. I was out of breath and smiling like an idiot for having something new to work on, when it happened. I got so far as the gates to where my car was parked, hid my backpack in the car's trunk, and put my hands up above my head to stretch my shoulders, when one hand grabbed my elbow hard enough to leave a mark on the spot.
The last thing I expected was to look back and see a tall black-haired figure. Snape. And too close, again. The night before had been spent in a drunken haze on his part, where the only thing I had been able to focus on was his body size and his weight, unlike today. There was a blue sky and a warm breeze touching my face, blowing the smell of the Forbidden Forest to my nose. Which would be a perfect setting to have the fingers of his left hand squeeze my arm as he stared at me with that dark intensity, so characteristic of him.
I swallowed dry, panicking for a minute, and tried to hide my thoughts behind my surprised expression. But being completely aware that he could see it in my eyes with his Legilimens skills.
― Say a word about yesterday and I will make you regret it. ― The soft and icy baritone of his voice whispered the statement so low, that if I were not looking at him, I would say that his lips did not move. But they had.
Severus Snape was standing next to me telling me... Excuse me?
― Hum... Excuse me? ― I asked slowly, carefully, wanting to be sure of what I heard.
― If you, ― his tone sounding like "didn't you hear me?" ― tell someone about yesterday, I will be sure to make you fail all the tests, which will lower you to level six by the end of the semester.
I could count on my fingers the number of times I was threatened with punishment for some problem I had caused outside of training. Yes, in the past, I was caught, mainly, in the company of Harry and Ron, and I won a few detentions, but that made it very weighty on me the question of not liking to do bad things or disappointing anyone. Throughout my life, I've always avoided doing things that would get me in trouble. Except for the actions I took during the war, but, it was a war!
It seemed absurd, to me, that he would think I would do something stupid like that. Spreading gossip, even if it was about something true, to cause a stir in the team and make me be demoted. Immediately a pure and warm hatred darkened my reason. Downgraded to a level six witch, me? The indignation made my heart start beating faster and my chest tighten. I knew my face was in some shade of red and a lump formed in my throat. For a thousandth of a second I forgot who was before me, and it was long enough for me to reach for my holster and pull my wand, pointing it directly at the pulse point of his throat, while projecting my chin up, staring at him with fierce energy.
― You...
I don't know what I was about to call him, because I was so angry that I couldn't think straight. My mind sang a spell and I had to use all my concentration to avoid letting it slip away in nonverbal form. I wasn't going to let this stupid man ruin my patient's chances of having flawless surgery.
Minerva and some students, who were probably going to the village of Hogsmeade, came walking towards the gates. Their presence joined the thought of my patient, who was waiting for me, sedated, in Saint Mungus, mixing with that little voice in my head that told me that a threat coming from Snape was not an empty threat, made me rethink what I was doing: almost cursing a professor.
The air came out of my lungs as if I had been punched and a vein in my temple throbbed in response. Don't do that! The hairs on my arms crept up as I relieved my mind of the trapped spell. Slowly, I lowered my hand to my side and closed my mouth with a gnashing of teeth.
That asshole wouldn't be the reason I would fail. No, he wouldn't be. Still, I wanted to call him to a duel and prove to him that I was one of the Muggle-born witches with full powers and would not be subdued by a half-blood Wizard, even at the risk of sounding like a supremacist.
But I took a deep breath and kept the desire back inside my chest. He won't win. He is not gonna take that away from me. In what was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done, I returned my wand to my holster and turned my back to him, before sliding into my car seat. I closed the door without saying a word, started the car and accelerated, not looking once in my rear-view mirror. I was sure that the castle had disappeared behind me when I made the first turn of the road, and then let the tears come out of my eyes.
How can he threaten me after what I have done? I couldn't understand. I took a deep breath and, even tattered inside, I told myself that I was not going to cry my tears for him. Whether it is the ingratitude, threat, or the fact of being angry, it didn't matter. I do not care about the opinion of such a bitter person. I did a good deed. And I know who I am and what I will be.
Snape can go suck a dick. And I hope he chokes on it.
― Are you okay? ― Neville asked me as soon as I left the surgery room.
I tore off the latex gloves that the mediwitches wear to avoid contact with the potions and ointments, and nodded at him, giving him a tired smile.
― It was hard there. But I'm fine. — I confirmed.
― The auxiliaries said that you were brilliant. Not that this is a surprise to me. ― He commented casually.
― Let's say I had somewhere to direct my focus. ― And you? Are you okay? ― I asked, while looking at the dark bags under his eyes.
He took the cap off his head and ran a hand over his short blonde strands of hair.
― A little hangover, but I've been through worse. ― He opened the agenda in his hand, before following behind me. ― Was everything alright last night?
― Yes. He was at the castle this morning. ― I said it casually, and I think I deserve an Order of Merlin for that. ― Thanks again for calling me.
He shrugged and took the quill to scratch something in hisplanner while waiting for me at the door of our office.
― What do you think he was doing there? ― Neville whispered the question.
― I have no idea.
Snape had said nothing but threaten me. Fantastic.
― Sounds pretty stupid to me, but at least we got him out of there. ― I answered, as I closed the door in the anteroom and drove me to my office to change myself. Not without first finding Neville's eyes stuck in me.
― You did the right thing. Don't worry about it. ― He told me, giving a smile to encourage me.
The sudden urge to tell him that Snape threatened to hinder my workouts to lower my level hung in my mouth, but I managed to keep quiet. All that had been was a threat and I had already told myself that I was not going to give him power over me, although I have the annoying suspicion that I can still drop a tear or two if I acknowledge his ingratitude out loud.
And what annoyed me the most at that moment was the latent desire that I still had about cursing him. But going out and about cursing people doesn't sound like Hermione Granger. I'm not that person. I can't believe he is able to bring those emotions out of me. I am not a temperamental or emotional woman. I never was. And now I was playing this ridiculous role. And it was his fault, Severus Snape's fault.
― Miss Granger! Miss Granger!
I had purposely walked with my head down, so that the journalists prowling the gardens would not see me behind the group of students who were going to the Quidditch pitch.
Shit.
― Miss Granger!
Dean laughed when I stopped, and he passed me, the traitor. Forcing a polite smile on my face, I searched for the face of the female voice calling my name. She ran, recorder in hand and a smile so big stamped on her face, that I really wasn't sure if it was authentic or not.
― Hello. ― I greeted her.
― Thank you very much for stopping. You are an example of politeness. ― She said, pulling her long hair away from her face. ― Have you got a few minutes for me?
The "Of course" that came out of my mouth seemed strangely convincing. Honestly, I had nothing against anyone from the press, it was just me being weird and cautious, knowing that my words could be documented and used against me. And fearful, the annoying voice inside my head whispered.
She gave me another smile, pointing her tape recorder at me.
― I will record this, if you agree. ― I nodded in agreement. ― Okay, thanks again. My name is Charlotte Firth, and I work for the Social Ego.
The name sounded vaguely familiar.
― What is it like to work with one of the sexiest men in the Wizarding World?
My brain failed, crashing for a few seconds, and I blinked at her.
― You mean professor Snape?
I think someone somewhere found Flitwick attractive; Hagrid too, at least, he and Madame Maxime were a couple to this day. This must mean that she finds him attractive, or at least she did, when they started dating. But most likely the reporter was talking about Snape.
As if in response to my thoughts, Charlotte Firth let out a very feminine laugh.
― Oh yes, of course you know who I am talking about. Severus Snape. What's it like to be trained by the most mysteriously sexy man in the world?
It took everything inside me not to look to heaven and ask God for divine intervention.
― Hum... Well... ― I cleared my throat, trying to not make my voice sound nauseous. ― He is a hero, he was one of the most important people for our victory in the last war, so it is quite exciting.
― I'm sure it is. ― She sounded shrill. ― Tell us, does he wear boxers?
Merlin, what the fuck is this interview? And how would I know about that? I did not sound indignant, for my mind had collapsed, and instead of explaining that this was a detail I had no way of knowing, I lost myself in my answer.
― I... I have no idea, but I hope he wears something under his uniform. ― I let it go, exasperated.
― What kind of interests does he have?
I forced my mind to focus on my conversation with Vector and Minerva the other morning and not on the absurdities this reporter was asking me.
― The only thing he is interested in is finding the solution to the magic block, I guess.
Firth gave me an incredulous look.
― Is he single? ― She dropped another question.
I winked at her a little more and finally looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was filming us. When I looked back at her, I showed all the indignation I felt.
― Is that a joke? ― I almost growled at the question.
― No. ― Charlotte promptly replied.
― Are you sure? ― I insisted.
― Yes. ― Again there was no hesitation in her answer.
It took me a moment before I could pull myself together.
― Severus Snape is my professor. He is the bravest man in the wizarding world, if not the world as a whole. He lived in seclusion and, unbelievably, we were lucky to see him return to Hogwarts. ― Even if he has not done anything so far, but why kill the illusion? ― I respect him and the rest of the team too, because he is a great wizard. His personal life is his problem and I have no idea what he does when he is not here, I am sorry. ― I concluded, hoping that she would understand how stupid her questions were.
― Oh. Alright... Can you tell me anything about him that you think the public doesn't know? ― She insisted on knowing something personal.
That he's still as bastard as he was when he was a spy? Or that he occasionally drinks a lot in pubs and had to be carried, without even giving a thank you in return? I was sure not to let any of these ideas cross my face when I shrugged to the woman, who was just doing her job. It wasn't her fault that people were interested in superficial things like that.
― I'm sorry. I really don't know. I saw him wear purple socks one day. That's all I know. ― I answered, giving her the miserable piece of knowledge that I could release. He actually wore purple socks, it was a fact.
She gave me a look that said it wasn't what she was looking for, but realized it was the only thing she would get from me. I said goodbye and quickly made my own way, unable to fend off the annoyance with things like this: questions about an asshole I had to stand up for in public.
I will make him regret it.
I had to swallow the frustrated inner cry that would come out of me when his threat hung in my mind. Does he have any idea of how much he meant to me when I was younger? Of course not. But that was not the point. The point was that I thought, and still do, that he was the greatest wizard I knew, bigger than Dumbledore, bigger than Voldemort, and I wanted to be like him: brave and loyal to the end. I used to get into an argument with my best friends when they talked badly about him. Even now I defended his abilities as a powerful and ruthless wizard, because one cannot argue against facts. Severus Snape had been amazing and there was nothing emotional about me assuming it. Even with that shitty temper he has, he is an exceptional Wizard.
Fucking idiot.
― How was it? ― Dean asked with a smile as I sat next to him. I didn't bother to hide my eye roll.
― They asked me if he was single. ― I answered and Dean snorted. ― I should have said: "No, I met the troll who is your life partner a few days ago. He's great." ― I smiled at Dean as I pulled my things out of my bag. ― Maybe one day.
― Yesterday one of them asked me if I thought Snape was preparing to be the next Lord Voldemort. So when I got home, Ivan asked me if I'd be bothered if he became one of Snape's Death Eaters, because he heard about orgies that took place in Tom's inner circle. I had a syncope so much that I laughed. ― We both fell into laughter, before he continued. ― The day before that, my aunt asked me if there was any way for her to come here to the castle. She wouldn't even see the place! She's a Muggle!
This time Dean sounded serious, as if these rumors had gone too far. Dean is not one to complain, he takes everything as a joke, so for him to be uncomfortable things really were out of place.
― Justin told me that the head of The Nameless swore to give him a raise if he manages to take Snape for lunch in the department with them any day. ― I commented.
― I heard Cho tell a reporter this morning that she came to save the skin of the pure bloods from living as Muggles for the rest of her life and not to talk about her professor. ― Dean gave it back.
We both laughed again, because if there was anyone sarcastic enough to answer these inconvenient reporters, that someone was Cho.
Laughter died on my face when Minerva called us and said that today was the day for more official photos to be taken for the Ministry. Disheartened, I nestled between Cho and Dean, completely forgetting that Vector had said I should be close to Snape. And even if I had remembered her advice, I would keep pretending I didn't and keep my veiled distance from him. But my tactic was discovered no less than five minutes later.
― Granger!
Oh, hell. No. No!
― Granger, you're in the wrong place. ― The photographer screamed from his position.
― I'll see you later. ― I muttered to Dean and Cho.
It took everything in me not to lower my head and drag my feet towards Vector, which had arisen out of nowhere, almost as if she had apparated without the usual pop of the apparition. I understood that she was taking care of me, doing me a favor by helping me do better in interviews and trying to pour oil on troubled waters about the whole uncomfortable situation of the letters with threats. But it was hard to keep my mouth shut and do what I needed.
I swallowed dry and took a deep breath as I walked like a brave person would normally walk: upright posture, open chest, and went in the direction that was being pointed at me.
― Hermione, over there, one line down. Severus, by Hooch's side. ― Vector ordered.
I lifted my shoulders and pretended I didn't notice the way he ignored everything and everyone around him, even as I stood less than thirty inches away. But I acted like the adult I was. I promised I wouldn't let him get to me.
But things didn't get any better when the cameras arrived to film the training. Vector kept waving to me to go towards where the professors were standing.
― Go. ― She whispered to me when I got close enough. ― It's just a few shots.
Yes, just a few takes with a man who had told me merely three sentences in over a month. Great. I gathered the crumbs of my pride and put it around my shoulders, before gradually making the way to where the professors were together.
I stopped to talk to Minerva, while Snape stood nearby with his arms crossed over his chest and his attention elsewhere. Every time I looked at him, my mind imagined myself casting the curse I held on my wand the day before. Maturity definitely didn't exist in me when it came to him.
But I did what I had to do. Always. That's why I put a smile on my face and talked to the people I really liked, while the filmmakers walked around. It had to be good enough. I pushed away all thoughts about Snape, ignoring life itself, and paid attention to the other students in my surroundings. Minerva started talking to someone else.
― I'm ready to end it. Does anyone know what we're going to do tomorrow? ― I heard Justin ask.
― I think we'll meet at Madame Malkins to pick up the robes that needed adjustment, won't we? ― Cho answered.
Someone agreed.
― Yes. Does anyone want to go out for a happy hour tomorrow?
Go to the happy hour the day before a duel display against llvermorny? I grimaced at myself, but continued with my gaze forward and my mouth closed. I heard when two people agreed and another said no. Anyway, it's not like they're going to invite me or ask for my opinion. Most people had given up inviting me to places after so many "no", and it was my fault. I was always busy. Sometimes it felt like I had to schedule even my trips to the bathroom during the day. While they were leaving for the happy hour I was going to perform a very complex eye surgery.
― I can't wait. ― One of the girls admitted. ― This week sucked. I could drown in a couple of glasses full of Firewhisky.
― Girl, me too. ― Justin agreed.
― What you need is discipline, not drinks the day before a duel exhibition.
I stopped breathing to the sound of that icy voice. I didn't have to turn around to find out who had spoken. You would have to be an idiot not to know. Of all the moments, he had chosen this one to speak louder.
― But it's just a display.
I didn't know who was dumb enough to bother justifying that it was "just" a display of defensive spells. I partially understood that, technically, it didn't count for anything. But I also found it unwise to drink on the eve of a magical event. Now, as for this complaint coming from Snape: what a damn hypocrite!
― No magical event is "just" nothing. ― It was the sharp answer that came back from him.
Minerva quickly moved to his side and started some random topic of conversation to distract him from his rude display with the students.
I turned to look at him, watching him wear such an ugly tone with the students while he was a huge farce. If I hadn't dragged his drunken ass a day ago into a hotel room, I would even agree with his reprimand. But the damage had already been done. Even in the midst of Minerva's chatter, he felt my gaze burn a hole in his temple and turned to meet my eyes. I didn't even blink when the black orbs met my gaze and stared back with fury.
― Anything to add, Granger? ― He hissed.
I took a deep breath to calm myself, trying to fill my lungs that were too constricted with unrestrained rage.
― Despite refusing so much to interact, you certainly sound a lot like a dictator.
Snape cracked his jaw.
― You have no idea of what is a dictator, Granger. You don't have the faintest idea of how hard it is to live under the oppression of one. — The voice was grave and dragged, carrying a poison stronger than ordinary.
― Explain, then. ― I spoke inexpressively, while hiding the latent fury even deeper inside me.
― To begin with, the word of a dictator is law. No one betrays the trust of one. ― A muscle has contracted in his jaw.
― Except you. ― I spat back.
He approached me, staying less than a foot away. His height would intimidate me if I had not already crossed the barrier of respect that I held for him for so many years. Now I just stared at him back, with the same icy contempt I saw in his eyes.
― Except me. ― He growled. ― So I suggest that no one contradicts the man who mocked Lord Voldemort's orders and lived to tell the story. Not even you, Golden Girl.
Like a wave of silence, the sounds of activities around us died. Everyone now watched our interaction and each of us felt the burn from Snape's last words. Nobody said anything. Not even the other professors. Not even Minerva. Everyone stared in amazement at the man in black robes turning and leaving towards the gates, disappearing as soon as he crossed the iron railing.
The second I made contact with Dean's eyes, he whispered, "What the hell was that?". I still looked at the point where Snape disappeared when I replied do that only he would hear me:
― That, was Snape finally interacting.
Final Notes
Information about Cantankerous Nott has been properly researched and taken from the Harry Potter Wiki.
I want to make a special thanks to my beta, munjaaay, for the impeccable review and the best reactions to events. You are amazing and this story would be much more "poor" without you to add your comments. Thank you!
Following Snape's premise: will I need to threaten you to leave me a comment? Really?
Translation by Jessinthedungeons.
