Chapter 5: Sleeping Draught
"He's fair?" Ron asked, shocked.
"I was more surprised than you were... Every last time Malfoy had called me a "mudblood' was written down. And the episode when he'd teased Harry about the dementors..." Hermione stated sadly. "I really hadn't meant to hurt his feelings..."
"Now.. Come on! You're getting ahead of yourself! He only dismissed you because you were snooping through his files. Not because you hurt his feelings!" Harry said becoming the voice of reason.
"We don't even know the man has bloody feelings!" Ron said jokingly. Hermione stuck him with an evil glare and he apologized.
"I'll apologize at dinner." Hermione decided forthrightly. "You two can't imagine how awful I feel. He'd been almost nice to me today." She had not told Harry and Ron everything about detention with Snape. She'd mostly kept the part about wanting to go back a secret. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew the only reason he'd commanded her to come back, was (although he'd never admit it the greasy git) that he wanted her to too.
Harry noticed the sound of caring in Hermione's voice and began to feel worried. Anyone, he thought, who tired to care about Severus Snape would only be trampled on in the process.
Ron, on the other hand, was still looking around bewildered.
"Snape is fair?" He asked again.
IIII
Harry reached for a dinner roll and took a bite. The tables were full of delicious confections for supper that night. Harry and Ron piled their plates, but Hermione sat silently watching the head table. Severus Snape had not come up for dinner it seemed. Hermione's heart sank a bit in her chest. Which she promptly chastised for believing anything about Professor Snape other than the fact that he was a low-down, stinky, blubbering, death-eater, who wanted her and her two best friends dead... and could do it. But even so, she still felt absolutely awful about accusing Professor Snape of being unfair. She had been looking forward to apologizing, even if it was only a way to free her mind of guilt.
"Hermione, eat. Pouting will not make you feel any better." Ginny Weasley said as she handed Hermione a plate of salad.
"You shouldn't feel too bad anyway. When has that overgrown bat ever felt bad for calling you a blithering know-it-all?" Ron asked honestly.
"Seriously 'Mione, Ron is right. But if you must apologize to him, you can always to it in class on Monday." Harry said.
IIII
Snape tapped his fingers absent-mindedly upon the surface of his marble table. He thought of the entire hullabaloo he'd missed by skipping dinner. He had stayed in his private chambers and threw back a few shots of firewhiskey.
Why had I let Grangers comments get to me?
She's seen it had too, and that made him even angrier. He poured another glass and threw it back into is throat. He'd never been one to drink excessively; but tonight, the burn at the back of his throat as the liquid rolled down felt like the torture he deserved to put himself through. He refused to be seen as week. He'd set her right, he decided. No one can talk to his or her professor, least of all Severus Snape.
He regretted ever letting her file through his cards. Her large, brown eyes peeking into his business. Vulnerability, he thought, was not an option.
IIII
Hermione kissed Harry and Ron on the cheek before she went on to her Head Girl room. Tonight, she decided, would be a great night for a bath.
She began to undress as she turned on the taps and let the water run. She slipped into the hot water and let her mind wander.
Harry really was a nice boy. Once, a long time ago, she thought that she'd been in love with him. He, being the boy-who-lived drew a certain aura about himself. There wasn't really a girl in the world that hadn't nurtured a slight love for him. But that feeling soon faded and sisterly love replaced it.
And then there was Ron. He was a different story altogether. For years she had held onto feelings for him. Even now, when he walked into a room, her heart began to beat rapidly. She had also known that he had felt the same. Maybe he still did. But for some reason, his fear, or hers, nothing would ever come of it. He was too shy and would never approach her. And she, she didn't believe in going after the guy. No, he'd have to come to her. They had carried on as friends and Hermione supposed things were better that way. She would never want to really risk their friendship for a romance. They had too much to lose.
Victor Krum had been her only real boyfriend. She had never forgot her first kiss with him underneath the mistletoe at the Yule ball. He'd been so handsome and dark. He had once, later on, confessed his love for her. Hermione knew right then and there that she had to end it. She hadn't believed he'd loved her, not in the slightest. He was too charming, and too unrefined. She was also much younger than he, and could not really have given him the type of relationship he'd been looking for. Victor had said he understood, and every once in a while she'd receive an owl telling her of his wild adventures and sweet new girlfriends.
She was 18 now: all grown up her father had said. She still thought of herself as a child though. In three mere months she'd be leaving Hogwarts forever. She had had a wonderful history there. How could she possibly leave?
She planned on becoming a medi-witch: a healer of the greatest degree. But that was very likely to change. She was so unsure of her fate. The war outside these strong brick walls was raging, and the only way to end it was to kill Voldemort. Or in Harry's cases, probably die trying. How could a person make definite plans in times that were so uncertain?
IIII
Stepping from the bathroom made goose pimples pop up all over her body. The outer castle was chilly tonight. She walked fast towards her room holding her bathrobe closed. It was quiet. She didn't know how long she'd been in there but she knew, from the looks of things, that it must be late.
"Miss Granger," a voice rolled down her spine like silk. "What may I ask are you doing out of bed at this late hour?"
Hermione turned to face Professor Snape clad in his midnight black robes.
"I'm sorry sir. I was taking a bath before going to bed."
Snape looked at her piercingly and tried very hard not to think of her in the bath. " I see... well, I suppose 20 points from Gryffindor will be sufficient." With that he turned to return to patrolling the halls.
"Wait! Professor?" She called running after him. He slowed and watch her come near him.
"I umm..." She tried to think of a proper apology.
"Yes, miss granger?"
"I just wanted to apologize for the detention today. My surprise at your fairness was not fair of me. I'm sorry for judging you."
She waited for a reply but he only nodded curtly before turning. She blinked after him. She'd almost been certain she'd seen a slight smile cross his face before his grimace replaced it.
IIII
"You again?" Snape said rudely, while conjuring a lazy chair out of nothingness.
"Is this another dream?" Hermione asked. Snape looked around the blackness.
"If it isn't, someone has been redecorating Hogwarts." He replied. Hermione smiled.
"So, you tell jokes in my dreams now?"
"This could be my dream, not yours" Severus replied curtly.
"or both of ours."
"What do you mean?" He asked, slightly interested, leaning forward in his chair.
"Its possible that we , Professor Snape, are meeting on a similar dreamscape. Like our dreams are intercepting one another." She finished, sounding like a textbook.
It was Snape's turn to laugh. "Why would we be meeting anywhere, Granger?"
"That's the problem. I don't exactly know."
"Well, Figure it out!"
"I can't!" She said frustrated at dream-Snape. "Give me a sign that you aren't just a figment of my imagination!"
"Well that settles it. This is all your dream. Not mine." He said obnoxiously. "there is no way, I'd bloody let you talk to me that way." He finished, scowling.
"Or maybe its your dream. Which is why you aren't getting bad. You know its only a dream." She said smartly.
"Oh what the hell!" No snotty Gryffindor brat... " What sort of bloody sign do you want?"
She had to think. He couldn't do anything out of character. The other students might take notice.
"Just um.. Un class tomorrow ask us to make the... SLEEPING DRAUGHT!"
He only looked at her, glaring abominably.
"Well, Professor, if you can make bad jokes... I can too!"
IIII