Rhapsody in Grytherin - II
Hogwarts School took its time before classes fully resumed, giving students the opportunity to celebrate Voldemort's downfall with their families if they wished and the chance to recover from the sheer trauma of having been at the centre of the action.
Ron and Ginny returned to The Burrow for a few days, Hermione decided to pay her parents a visit, and Harry remained behind to keep Draco company. Draco was anxiously waiting to reunite with his mother, now that there no longer was a need for her to stay in hiding.
Hermione enjoyed being pampered by her parents once they had recovered from the shock that their daughter had played a pivotal role in bringing down the most evil wizard. She spent many hours chatting with her mother while listening to music, they cooked her favourite meals together or went out to her favourite childhood restaurant, and they watched TV together, like any normal Muggle family. Hermione felt with relief that after this crazy summer that ended with Voldemort's downfall, there was finally a resemblance of normalcy in her life again.
On Hermione's last evening at home, her parents treated her to an opera in London's West End. The English National Opera was showing Mozart's Magic Flute, Hermione's favourite opera. It was a new production, staged by Nicholas Hytner, and she looked very much forward to it after having read the raving reviews in various Muggle papers.
When Hermione arrived with her parents at the opera house, she was glad that she had heeded her mother's advice to dress up a little. A few, mainly young people were wearing everyday street-wear, but as she climbed up the stairs towards the balcony, she noticed less ordinary clothing and an increasingly elegantly clad audience. Her own outfit, a midnight-blue, modestly cut, long, silk dress fitted in nicely, she thought as she unclasped her autumn cloak of the same colour.
"Allow me," a low, deep voice sounded next to her, and she felt her cloak lifted off her shoulders.
An elegantly dressed man, not quite yet middle-aged, nodded and handed her the cloak. "Are you starting a new fashion or are you a witch?" he asked with obvious amusement.
She regarded him, not sure how to answer him. He was much taller than she and quite slim as far as she could make out, although she allowed that the well-cut suit might hide any possible excess pounds. His hair reminded her of Snape, although this man's was neither greasy nor lank. At least it did not look lank since he had it tied at the back.
"Uh, the latter," Hermione replied eventually and sat down.
He sat down on the seat next to her and said, "That's surprising. Only very few of our world are interested in this form of entertainment, although I cannot possibly fathom the reasons for such disinterest."
Hermione could not help but agree with him. "I really miss going to operas and concerts during the school year. Wizarding schools don't seem to pay any attention to musical education or Muggle culture," she said.
"I can imagine," he replied. "It's hard to stay away from classical music once you come to appreciate it."
He looked at her and asked, "So, who is your favourite character in The Magic Flute?"
Hermione didn't have to think about it. "Zarastro. I love his character, and I love his singing. He is very wise."
Hermione's mother, sitting on the other side of her her, chimed in, "When did that change, Hermione? I remember when you were a child, you always loved Tamino. You thought it was wonderful how he rescued Pamina." She gave her daughter an adoring look and ignored the glare she received.
"Yes, Mum, I was a child then. Nowadays, I find Zarastro's character much more intriguing," Hermione defended herself and turned her attention to the man next to her.
"Yes, I agree with you about Zarastro. Personally, I love the Queen of the Night, although much depends on how well it is performed. Not many opera singers have the ability to pull it off the way it's meant," he offered.
The lights dimmed and the audience went silent in anticipation for the Overture to start. During the first act, Hermione forgot the world around her, so absorbed was she in the events unfolding down on the stage.
When the curtain closed to signal the end of Act One, and the enthusiastic applause had died down, Mrs Granger beamed at her daughter. "That is one fine performance, isn't it, love?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, absolutely, Mum, Dad. Thanks very much for taking me. You know how much I love this opera," Hermione replied gratefully.
"And the best is yet to come for you, is it not?" the stranger next to her asked.
Hermione smiled. "Yes, I'm really looking forward to the second act. With such a brilliant performance all around, Zarastro is bound to be good, too," she said.
The stranger now turned to Mrs Granger. "Would you all care for some drinks during the interval? I rather enjoy talking opera, as I rarely have the opportunity."
"Oh, sure," said a delighted Mrs Granger, and her husband nodded in agreement.
Hermione did not mind either; she was beginning to enjoy talking to this stranger. As much as she loved Ron and Harry, when it came to classical music, they had absolutely no idea, nor did any of her other school acquaintances. She was also becoming curious about this man, who was obviously a wizard, but one with interest in Muggle culture, which was particularly uncommon amongst purebloods. And she mused that he was a pureblood from the way he was dressed–elegant, but blissfully ignorant of the fashion of the day–as well as the manner in which he spoke.
The four made their way downstairs to the bar, and only Hermione noticed the wizard's discreet use of the wand to provide space for the small group at a table. He then excused himself, headed to the bar and returned almost immediately with four glasses of champagne, one of which was diluted with orange juice. Yes, definitely pureblood, Hermione concluded. Doesn't think an eighteen year old witch can stomach a glass of proper champagne.
The fifteen-minute interval was spent in animated and spirited discussion about the performance, past performances of The Magic Flute and other operas they had seen.
When the bell rang, the stranger turned to Hermione. "Have you seen Fidelio?"
"Beethoven's Fidelio? No, I've never seen that one. I love Beethoven's music, but Fidelio is not performed very often in opera houses, at least not here In London," she replied as they walked up the stairs.
They sat down, and he had just enough time to mention that the Royal Opera House was going to show Fidelio in the next season before the music started Act Two.
Once again, Hermione was completely engrossed in the happenings on stage. The character of Zarastro did not disappoint, his voice deep and very powerful, his acting skills convincing of his wisdom. She fleetingly thought how Zarastro reminded her of Dumbledore, who had often been portrayed by the Ministry as one ignoring law and order, when in reality he had always seen the shortcomings of the Ministry's actions before anyone else. Likening the Queen of the Night to the Ministry made her snort inwardly.
When at the end of Act Two the curtain closed, Hermione felt many emotions simultaneously. Awe about the wonderful performance, sadness that it was over, happiness that she would have fond memories of this evening for a long time, relief that her parents had equally enjoyed it; and a tinge of regret that she was unlikely to ever see the wizard again who had sat next to her. He was very knowledgeable about classical music, and she had enjoyed talking to him.
Hermione sighed inwardly when she heard the faint pop of someone Disapparating. He was gone. He probably just thinks I'm way too young for him, anyway. Good enough for some musical small talk.
Severus Snape was enjoying a quiet few minutes to wind the day down, when the fireplace flared green and Minerva came through. He motioned for her to take a seat, but she stopped dead in her tracks.
"Ah, Severus. You can take that glamour off now, you know!" McGonagall was obviously irritated. She continued, "I don't know why you are so paranoid still. The few Death Eaters that have not been caught surely wouldn't go out to see an opera."
Severus smirked as he took the Charm off in one swift wand movement–even as he pondered how on earth he could have forgotten to take the Charm off as soon as he had arrived back at the Hogwarts gates. "Death Eaters would not, Minerva. However, I am certain that one Muggle-born witch would not have appreciated Muggle culture to such an extent had she known exactly who was gracing the seat next to her."
"Oh, Severus! I do hope you were civil!" cried Minerva.
He raised his eyebrow at her. "Do not fret, woman," he grumbled. "Contrary to your irrational fears, I do know etiquette, and I even know when to apply it."
Minerva's piercing eyes on him left him feeling disconcerted. Damn the woman. His excellent Occlumency skills did nothing to stop her from looking directly into his soul, it seemed.
Her thin lips widened into a smile. "Why, Severus, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you've had a nice evening," she said sardonically.
"It was... acceptable," he growled in a low voice.
"Pray tell, who was the lucky woman seated next to you?" asked Minerva, not bothering to hide her amusement.
"It seems none other than your star pupil, co-saviour of the wizarding world, is highly appreciative of opera," sneered Severus, rapidly losing patience with his old friend. He hated to admit to himself that he had actually enjoyed the evening, not only the performance, but the conversations with the Granger girl as well.
"Hermione Granger? That doesn't really surprise me," Minerva said, completely ignoring his rather ill demeanour.
Having satisfied her curiosity, she abruptly switched the subject. "I didn't come here to pry on your private time, Severus, as you can imagine," she said soothingly, earning another raised eyebrow from him. "Honestly, Severus! I've come to ask your advice. Remus brought Narcissa Malfoy here this afternoon, after Tonks had word from the Ministry of Magic that no charges will be brought against her. Narcissa told me she does not wish to return to Malfoy Manor for now, as she would not feel safe there.
"I don't have the heart to insist she leave, especially as she and Draco have been separated for all these months. But what do I do with her?"
Severus watched her absently as he thought about Narcissa. She was married to a Death Eater, even loved him, but her belief about purebloods being superior had started to falter a long time ago. Being married to Lucius had forced her to learn early in life all she could about defending herself.
Slowly and deliberately, Severus said, "Offer her the Defence Against The Dark Arts position."
Minerva looked at him with a shocked expression that made him smirk. "Look at the situation," he demanded. "You have yet to find a Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, so the choice is either to make do without one or offer Narcissa the position. Of course, you could pretend that students don't need lessons in Defence, but you can't be that blue-eyed and think that just because the Dark Lord is gone, there will be no need to know at least basic defence.
"I've known Narcissa for decades, as you are well aware. And believe me, she is aptly qualified for the position," he added dryly.
Minerva took a deep breath and said, "I'll have to think about it, Severus. This is not a decision to be made light-heartedly. Although, I must say, your suggestion has merit."
By the time Halloween arrived, the school was running smoothly again and Narcissa Malfoy was ensconced as Hogwarts' latest Defence Against The Dark Arts professor.
Life had returned to normal for everyone, and older students as well as teachers repeatedly marvelled at the fact that their lives were no longer at stake, that there no longer was the threat of the dark taking over the wizarding world.
Severus Snape was his usual, miserable, capricious self. Most students still feared him, and he made no effort to change that. After all, he had worked hard for years to be in such position, and he admitted even to others that he enjoyed seeing students quiver in fear at the sight of him.
What had changed for him was that he caught himself clandestinely watching the Granger girl with increasing regularity. He had never liked her particularly, although most of his blatantly shown disdain for her had mainly been for show.
Now, he often thought back to the evening he had unwittingly spent with her. He had no doubt that she would have acted very differently had she known who she was so animatedly discussing opera with. He had enjoyed their conversations, and it had not taken him long to realise that she was as passionate about opera as he was.
Furthermore, he found himself impressed with her choice of clothing. Too many young witches these days, and not just Muggle-borns by any means, followed the dictates of self-proclaimed fashion gurus religiously, with no regard for taste or even compatibility.
Hermione kept herself busy with studying for the NEWTs. However, her thoughts often trailed back to the last evening with her parents and the stranger at the opera house. She found she was unable to forget him.
What was worse, she considered, was that Harry's and Ron's complete ignorance of anything cultural reminded her frequently–and painfully–of the lack of truly intelligent and cultured men as a whole, and wizards in particular. Such thoughts led inevitably to the memory of the one person of the human wizard species she had encountered who was different. Forget it, Granger. Meeting him again is about as likely as Dudley Dursley turning out to be a wizard, she admonished herself and returned to her studies with renewed vigour.
The Christmas Holidays were approaching fast. Harry and Ginny decided to remain at Hogwarts. It was Harry's last year, he enjoyed spending time with Draco, and was certain that once the school year was finished, they were unlikely to see each other often. Like Ron, Harry was planning to enter Auror training soon after he finished Hogwarts. Draco was making arrangements to enter an apprenticeship with Snape, and Ginny would have to return to Hogwarts for her last year. Ron was ordered by his mother to spend the holidays at home in order to keep Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle company, who had been prompted by her ambitious parents to visit her sister's in-laws to improve her English.
Hermione was somewhat divided over staying at school or spending Christmas with her parents. She would still see Harry, even after he began his Auror training, and if Professor Flitwick accepted her as an apprentice, she would continue to see Draco and Ginny throughout next year. And if she visited her parents, there was the lure of musical culture she could indulge in while there. Hermione was realistic and practical enough to not even remotely hope of meeting the cultured wizard again.
Two days before the school holidays started, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were enjoying a leisurely breakfast in the Great Hall. It was Sunday, and even Hermione allowed herself to be caught in the happy spirit that ruled Hogwarts with the first Christmas that was not overshadowed by threats from the dark.
A big whoosh, and an army of owls arrived with letters and packages. Hermione was surprised when one eagle owl landed in front of her. She frowned as she looked at the envelope and read her own name.
"Strange. I'm not expecting any mail. And I don't recognise the writing," she muttered and, curiosity piqued, hurriedly untied the letter.
The owl left abruptly before Hermione could offer it any bacon bits. She opened the envelope, her mind racing over who would be sending her any mail just before Christmas, and gasped.
Inside was one ticket for Fidelio at the Royal Opera House for December 28th. He had mentioned Fidelio, she thought excitedly.
"What've you got there?" enquired Ron, still chewing the last of his breakfast.
"It's a ticket for the opera, Ron," Hermione replied, sounding smug. She had no doubt who had sent it, even though there was no name, but then, she did not know his name.
"Who sent you an opera ticket via owl?" asked Harry.
"Uh..." Hermione was slightly flustered now. "There's no name on it," she finally admitted.
Ron and Harry looked at her incredulously. "Are you insane?" asked Ron. "Hermione, this could be a trap! There are still Death Eaters about, you know that! You can't use this ticket if you don't know who it's from!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "But I do have a very good idea who it's from," she countered. "Stop being so paranoid, you two! There's been no Death Eater activity since Voldemort snuffed it; surely they aren't interested in drawing attention to themselves! It's a Muggle event, for crying out loud," she continued.
Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione, I agree with Ron. We have to inform McGonagall at least, and see what she says to that."
Hermione realised that the boys would not back down. Her only likely ally in this would be Draco, and he was sitting at the other end of the hall at the Slytherin table. She clutched the ticket firmly in her hand, sighed, and said, "Fine, we'll tell her. But that doesn't mean I'll follow whatever she advises!"
"Naturally, it is prudent to remain cautious, considering not all Death Eaters have been rounded up as yet," the Headmistress agreed with Harry and Ron. Looking at Hermione, who displayed a positively mutinous expression, she said, her eyes twitching with amusement, "Knowing Miss Granger, I believe she has a fair idea as to the identity of the sender. Do you not, Miss Granger?"
"Yes," admitted Hermione, now grinning in anticipation of keeping the ticket, seeing the opera, and meeting the stranger again.
Turning to the boys, McGonagall continued, "To humour you two young men, I shall make some enquiries, and if there is any reason to believe there might be danger, I will inform you."
Severus Snape was lost in the latest potions journal delivered earlier when the flames in the fireplace turned green.
"Severus, a word, please." Minerva's voice sounded ominous.
"Come through," Severus replied curtly. She had seen him at breakfast not an hour ago, and he wondered what she wanted.
"I have just spent a while calming two young men who are gravely concerned that an anonymously sent opera ticket is a trap set by Death Eaters," Minerva said as she watched him with interest.
Quirking an eyebrow, he asked, "And, pray tell, what did you do to ensure the Potter and Weasley prats that the brain of the Golden Trio will be safe?"
"I promised them to make enquiries," she replied, and giving him a stern look, continued, "Honestly, Severus! Did you have to send the ticket anonymously? That's really not a gentleman's way! And she is a student! What were you thinking?"
"Honestly, Minerva," he copied her tone mockingly. "We never got as far as exchanging names. But since I had mentioned Fidelio to her, I trusted that Hogwarts' cleverest witch would work out who sent her the ticket, even though she has no idea it's me.
"And what was I thinking? I'll tell you what I was thinking: Since my early youth, I've always gone to operas and concerts alone because I knew nobody else with an interest in classical music. Spending one such evening in company brought back to me how enjoyable it is. Intelligent conversation during the interval as well as shared anticipation before the show starts are preferable to nursing a drink on my own or anticipating the performance all by myself. Besides, she has no idea who I am, so there will be no gossip.
"And yes, she is still a student. For another six months. I'll be happy to give you my promise that nothing inappropriate will happen during that time. This is about going to an opera, Minerva, and you make it sound as if I'm about to elope with her!"
Minerva considered his words. They sounded reasonable enough, and besides, she knew Severus well enough to trust him with her cub. However, she did not wish to concede entirely.
"Okay. Just promise me one thing, Severus. If you both develop feelings for each other, you will tell her your identity." She looked at him expectantly.
"Of course, Minerva," he agreed readily, knowing perfectly well that no woman would ever develop feelings for him, least of all a young, desirable witch such as the Granger girl.
Minerva finally left him to return to his reading. His peace was gone now, and he felt unable to concentrate on the words. Instead, his thoughts returned once more to the evening at the opera, and the anticipation for Fidelio increased, less for the opera on this occasion, but for spending an evening with Hermione Granger. It was definitely worth looking forward to.
"I told you so!" Hermione said smugly when Harry opened McGonagall's note that told them that all was well and that there was no need to worry about the opera ticket.
For Hermione and her family, Christmas was a quiet but joyful affair. She squealed when she unpacked her mother's present–a deep turquoise dress, modestly cut but slightly clinging, and a matching formal cloak.
"Oh, mum! This is beautiful," Hermione said as she admired herself in the mirror.
"I'm glad you like it," her mother replied. "I thought you'd prefer something new to wear for your opera date. And you look absolutely beautiful, love! If he doesn't fall head over heels in love with you, looking like that, then there's no hope for him."
"Uh, uh," her father chimed in. "I shouldn't allow you to go out like that, you know. You'll have an entire army of guys following you, and I'm not sure any of them will be good enough for my baby."
Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Come on, dad. It's only an evening at the opera," she pointed out.
"Yes, and before I'll know it, he'll have you totally enchanted," her father countered, only half-joking.
Hermione enjoyed her evening at the opera. When she arrived at her seat, the stranger was already there. Before any awkwardness could settle, he apologised for the way he sent the ticket.
"No problem. Even if you had given a name I wouldn't have known. But it could only have been you because I don't know anyone else who likes opera," she replied.
"My apologies, Hermione. I never introduced myself." He held out his hand and said, "I'm Leander Sinclair."
"Nice to meet you, Leander." She grinned. "But how did you find out my name?"
"That was easy enough. I had overheard your mother at The Magic Flute when she teased you about Tamino being your hero. Then, being English, I deduced that you attend Hogwarts. So I communicated with Minerva," he replied.
"You know McGonagall?" Hermione was surprised. "No wonder she calmed my friends down when they suspected a conspiracy by Death Eaters," she said.
"Yes, I know her," he said. "A conspiracy by Death Eaters, eh? What kind of dunderhead thinks along those lines about a Muggle cultural event?" he asked, sounding incredulous.
Hermione could not hold back a giggle. "You sound like one of my professors, you know. He assumes all students are dunderheads and says so in every first lesson."
He breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when the lights dimmed at that moment and vouched to be more careful in his choice of words.
From the first note of the overture, Hermione was utterly enchanted by the drama that unfolded on stage. The music was dramatic, the design of the dresses as well as the stage decor equally dramatic, and the performers outdid themselves.
When the curtain fell after the second act, she slowly came out of her trance-like state to look into the amused eyes of her companion.
"I trust you approve of the performance," he said, his head tilted. "You look as if you're engaged in an act of worshipping."
"I was totally lost in it," admitted Hermione. "Everything is just so... perfect." Including my company, she added silently.
Said company was now stirring her towards the bar, and again she noted how he used his wand discreetly to make a table available for them. His every move was graceful and confident, almost bordering on arrogance, but not quite.
"So, how is Hogwarts these days?" he asked casually as he sat the drinks on the small table and took the seat opposite her.
"Just fine," she replied. "Thankfully, the little bit of damage caused during the Final Battle was easy to repair. It's wonderful now, really, not having to fear some megalomaniac taking over the wizarding world."
"I can imagine. It does feel good not having to fear him anymore." He seemed to lose his focus at this point, as if a particular memory had suddenly struck him.
"I suppose if I had received an opera ticket anonymously while Voldemort was still in power, I would've been convinced it was a Death Eater trap," she replied wistfully, not noticing the flash in his eyes at her casual mention of the dark wizard's name.
"Of course," he said. "Mind you, I have yet to come across any pureblood wizard or witch who appreciates opera. Most of them won't have a clue what it is!"
The conversation returned to the subject of classical music, and by the time the bell rang, they each knew much about each other's tastes, which were amazingly similar.
Again, Hermione was completely engrossed in the music, the performance, the drama. When finally Leonora was led by Minister Ferdinand to remove Florestan's chains herself, she had to wipe off a stray tear.
The curtain fell, the cast bowed to the audience amidst rising applause, which, with the arrival of the heroine and hero, became so thunderous it could be heard as far away as Charing Cross.
As the applause finally started to abate, Hermione's companion muttered in her ear, "Let's get away from the noise. I'll Apparate us to a side street nearby. Hold on to my hand."
She did as requested, and they immediately arrived on a nearly empty and quiet street not far from the opera house.
"My, my, Miss Granger. Aren't you a bit trusting? I could be a Death Eater in disguise and would have an easy job carrying you off to some secret torture chamber," he quipped.
"Good God, Leander!" exclaimed Hermione. "Are you, by any chance, related to Professor Snape?" She looked at him curiously. He still reminded her of her Potions professor, not just the looks, but the way he occasionally uttered something in the sardonic way that was the trademark of Snape. Only he was much nicer. And better looking, she concluded.
"And if I were, would it matter?" he asked in a suddenly even lower voice.
Hermione glanced at him furtively. "N... no, not at all," she replied. "It's just that your words reminded me of him."
"Good," he said dismissively. "Now that that's settled, would you like to go for a coffee, perhaps?"
They found a small coffee shop not far from the opera house and ordered some coffee. Hermione was amazed how many interests they shared. They talked animatedly about various subjects, discussed literature as well as more music, agreed on a number of books, and found they shared a passion for Beethoven's compositions.
Neither noticed how time was passing until the owner politely pointed out that it was closing time.
"Come," he said, "I'll take you home. Wouldn't do to have you kidnapped by some stray Death Eaters," he added, smirking.
A jolt of fire surged through Hermione's entire body when he took her hand to Apparate them to the front of her parents' house.
"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Leander," said Hermione. "This has definitely been the best night out this year."
"You're welcome. The pleasure's all mine," he replied, gazing at her intently. "Maybe you would care to repeat the exercise in the near future?"
Her mind was reeling. He likes me.
"I would love to! Just owl me," she managed to utter.
The following morning, Hogwarts' staff looked at a scowl-free Professor Snape for the first time since he started teaching.
"Why, Severus," Minerva drawled, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you look happy!"
Snape gazed at her levelly. "What if I am?" he challenged.
Comprehension dawned. "Does this state of happiness have to do with a certain lady who appreciates Muggle culture?" asked McGonagall, looking far too smug for his taste.
"What if it does?" He was not quite willing to lay bare his feelings for a student of his, not even to himself, let alone to the Headmistress.
As the day progressed, he pondered the previous evening. The more he pondered, the more he was ready to admit that not only had he enjoyed himself tremendously but it was entirely due to the company he was in.
Her genuine enthusiasm for anything she considered interesting was bewitching. Her mind was sharp, and she had evidently enjoyed discussing the finer points of music and literature with him. Her taste in clothing was understated, elegant, and modest, just the way he liked it. Her hand had felt very comfortable when they had Apparated back to her parents.
He realised with a jerk that she was everything he could hope for in a witch. Damn. All I wanted was an enjoyable evening, not fall for a mere girl. I'll have to do something to curb those feelings. She's a student, a Gryffindor at that, and what's worse, she's Potter's best friend, he sneered to himself.
Only for another few months, and she won't be your student. And she's a young woman and of age, not a girl. And being Potter's best friend doesn't mean she'll bring him with her into a relationship, another part of his mind voiced slyly.
He decided to distract himself by brewing some potions to stock up Madam Pomfrey's supplies. The process of brewing would help him clear his mind.
The old year ended, with Hermione on Severus Snape's mind, and Leander Sinclair on Hermione's mind.
The new year started in equal fashion. Shortly after midnight, an owl tapped on the Grangers' living room window. Hermione hurried to let the poor bird in, as the weather was dismal, and untied the parchment while asking her mother to find some bacon bits.
Happy New Year, Hermione, and here's hoping that the unbearable lightness of Strauss tunes on Radio 3 won't do your head in.
Raising a glass to you,
L.S.
"What a lovely note," Hermione muttered amusedly. That sounded just so... Snape-ish. And yet totally like Leander.
"So, did you get a love-letter?" asked Mrs Granger as she fed the owl one piece of bacon after another, delighted to engage in such a wizarding activity.
Hermione snorted. "Well, not exactly. But at least I'm on his mind." She giggled and handed the note to her mother.
Mrs Granger glanced at the message and laughed. "Now, I can see why you're enchanted with him. I bet you'd rather listen to Brendel playing the Pathétique, wouldn't you, love?"
"Absolutely, mum," Hermione agreed, wondering if it was worth putting on the Brendel CD and switching the blasted radio off. But her dad liked Strauss, at least on New Year.
All too soon, the holidays were over, and the students returned to Hogwarts as snow settled on its grounds to ring in one of the coldest and longest winters Scotland had ever seen.
It took less than one week for most of the fifth and seventh year students to start panicking about OWLs and NEWTs. Before Christmas, those exams would not happen until next year. Now, they were barely five months away.
The Hogsmeade visit on the third Saturday in January was cancelled. The snow was knee-deep, the storm never-ending, and not a single shop was open in Hogsmeade.
Hermione sighed. It would have been nice just to get out of the castle, regardless of the weather. But then again, nothing would stop her from wearing multi-layered clothing and going out to the grounds for some much needed fresh air. And chances were that nobody else would be crazy enough to go outside in all the snow and storm. Which meant she could reminisce about her last meeting with Leander, without being disturbed.
Leander. She had not heard from him since his New Year owl. And no matter how much she put her mind to the upcoming NEWTs, she was unable to not think about him.
Hermione slowly made her way through the snow, heading towards the lake. Despite her warm clothing, she shivered. It had stopped snowing, but the wind was still howling viciously. Oh, well, I guess it'll have to be a very short walk, but at least I got some fresh air, she mused, ready to turn back.
As she reached the doors, the Headmistress greeted her. "Miss Granger, isn't it a bit cold and windy to go outside?" she asked.
"Yes, it is," Hermione admitted. "But I was desperate for some fresh air, so I dared. Not for long, though."
McGonagall nodded. Then she changed the subject abruptly. "I trust you enjoyed yourself at the opera during the holidays?"
Hermione felt herself blush. Of course, Leander mentioned he knew McGonagall, she remembered. Avoiding the Headmistress' eyes, she replied, "Yes, thank you, I had a wonderful time."
The young witch felt the older one's eyes gazing at her. "You know, Miss Granger, there is nothing wrong with enjoying a man's company. I dare say you found plenty of interests in common.
"Although... don't be surprised if he turns out differently from how you perceive him now. Good day, Miss Granger." McGonagall turned around and left Hermione to ponder her words.
What on earth was this about? Hermione wondered as she slowly made her way back towards the common room.
January eventually turned into February. Students were becoming crankier by the day as the weather showed no intention of improving in the slightest, whilst the NEWTs were getting closer day by day.
Minerva decided to ignore the abysmal weather and give the older students an opportunity to get out of the castle. After all, they could use the thestral-drawn carriages to transport students to and from Hogsmeade. She called a staff meeting.
"Seeing how this winter weather is affecting everybody's mood–students and staff alike," she started, glancing at Severus, "I have concluded that it is in everybody's interest to allow the students an evening out."
Everyone looked at her expectantly, and she continued, "The opportunity presents itself, really, since Valentine's Day is next week. The teachers can chaperone, and the students will be allowed to visit the venues Hogsmeade has to offer. It's not much, but they'll appreciate a few hours out of the castle."
While the teachers voiced their thoughts of Minerva's plan, Severus sat in the staff room plotting. It would be a good opportunity to see her again. Of course, that depended on the Headmistress playing along, but she did not appear to oppose a relationship. He decided to approach her the following evening, his mind made up.
"As long as you do not behave untowardly, and provided you give me your word that you will tell her your identity right after the NEWTs, I have no objections," Minerva said, after listening to his request to chaperone one single witch and preferably not in Hogsmeade.
Valentine's Day saw the older students in a much improved mood. Harry, Ginny, Draco, Ron, and Hermione had agreed to go to The Three Broomsticks together. They arrived, and the boys went to get drinks, whilst Hermione and Ginny went in search of a table big enough for the group.
"Oh, it feels so heavenly to be somewhere other than the castle," Ginny sighed as she let herself fall into a chair.
"Yeah, the last few weeks have been a bit trying," replied Hermione. She, too, felt relief at the change of scenery.
Ron, Harry, and Draco arrived, holding bottles of Butterbeer. "Wow, it's getting busy," Ron commented, looking around.
The pub was indeed filling up rapidly. Hermione was not particularly surprised. Madam Puddifoot's was only fun for couples, and there was nothing else worth visiting in Hogsmeade, considering that the Hogs Head was an establishment for the more shadowy types.
They all talked happily about school and contentedly sipped their drinks. Hermione's mind trailed off when the subject turned to Quidditch. Wouldn't it be nice to have a conversation that doesn't include Quidditch, she thought idly.
"You look positively bored. I take it Quidditch isn't your thing," a low voice drawled near her ear. She flew around.
"Leander!" She almost squealed–and promptly blushed at her display of affection.
He grinned at her in an oddly affectionate way, while ignoring her friends who were staring at him openly. "Would you like to go to a... somewhat quieter place?"
"Oh, I'd love to," Hermione replied, delighted at the prospect of spending a little bit of time with the object of her affection. She realised at that moment that it was a futile exercise trying to deny her attraction to him.
Ron was the first to find his voice. "Oi, you can't just walk out on us! With a stranger at that! You have to at least ask McGonagall!"
Before Hermione could think of a reply, her partner settled the matter skilfully. "I take it you must be a Mr Weasley, with that red hair," he said silkily. "Minerva is the one who told me where to find Hermione. I believe you have made the mistake of believing me to be a Death Eater once already. Minerva won't be overly impressed if you repeat it."
Turning his attention to Hermione, who was now standing next to him, he took her hand and said, "Come. I'll get us out of here." He Apparated them to a small, intimate wizarding venue, which was fairly quiet. Some Muggle jazz music was playing in the background. Glancing around briefly, he chose a table in a corner and went to get some drinks.
While waiting for Leander to return with drinks, Hermione's mind was reeling. I'm in love. Oh. My. God. I'm. In. Love. He's so... perfect... and I'm simply in love with him. But who the hell is he, anyway? The sight of her Potions professor entered her mind completely unbidden. He does have certain similarities with Professor Snape, indeed, her thoughts continued.
The moment Leander returned with drinks, McGonagall's enigmatic words, uttered a few weeks ago, hit her with force. Don't be surprised if he turns out differently from how you perceive him now.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked with obvious concern.
She looked at him bleary-eyed. "Just tell me, exactly who are you?" she whispered.
He gazed at her levelly and then took a deep breath. "I may be asking too much of you, but do you think you could trust me? I promise I will tell you the moment your NEWTs are over."
"Yes..." she replied hesitantly. "Although I don't quite understand." She sighed. "But why can you not tell me until my NEWTs are over?"
"Because if you know, Hermione, there... might be complications. Minerva might not tolerate us seeing each other while you are still a student," he said.
She sipped on her drink, deep in thought. Eventually, she looked up and smiled at him. "Okay. To be honest, I treasure what little time we have together very much, and if you feel it's best to wait, then I'll wait until I'm no longer at school."
The conversation turned to other subjects, and Hermione decided to think about her mysterious man when she was alone at Hogwarts again. For now, she simply showed interest in his life, trying to find out how he spent his days.
He, in turn wanted to talk about her rather than himself, so his answers were a little evasive. "Oh, I do research, mainly," he answered her question what he did for a living.
"What kind of research?" Hermione wanted to know as she contemplated that a man with his intelligence would be perfectly suited to research.
"Potions, if you must know," his reply was slightly testy.
I bet he is related to Snape, Hermione thought to herself, almost giggling. Aloud, she said, "I love Potions! It's such a varied subject!"
"What? Despite your horrid teacher?" he asked, astounded.
"Oh, he isn't that bad, you know. He may be moody, but he's a good teacher. And Potions is not a subject that tolerates mistakes. If he wasn't so strict, there'd probably be a whole lot more accidents," Hermione countered, hoping that he'd eventually admit to her that he was related to Professor Snape.
They spent the remainder of the evening talking about potions, until it was time to leave. He Apparated them to the front of the Three Broomsticks and did not let go of her hand as they started walking to the gates of the school grounds.
Hermione wished the walk would never end. It felt so right to be walking hand in hand with him. Her wish was ignored. They arrived at the gates far too soon.
"This was a wonderful surprise, Leander," she said, looking at him. Wistfully, she added, "So, will it be another couple of months before I see you again?"
He regarded her with intense eyes. "You do know I've come to care for you, Hermione." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"And I for you," replied Hermione, desperately trying to fight the tremble that had wound itself into her voice.
They stared at each other, and suddenly, he bent down to capture her mouth. She withdrew momentarily, somehow not expecting this display of affection, but then, realising Oh, Merlin. He is kissing me! she allowed him access, and their tongues danced the age old ritual that promised more pleasures to come.
Hermione felt something deep inside her ignite, and fire spread rapidly through her entire body. Fragments of thoughts passed through her mind. Oh... this is so different from kissing Ron... He tastes so wonderful... It feels so right...
When the kiss eventually ended, they stood there for a while, Hermione leaning her head against his chest, with Leander's arms wrapped around her frame. I love his scent... It's so... yummy.
"Hermione..." he started hesitatingly. "I don't know when I'll be able to see you again, but I can promise that I will try my best to make it happen as soon as possible. I will write, though. I don't see any reason not to do so." He had moved his arms to her shoulder to hold her at arms' length so he could see her face.
She nodded, not trusting her voice quite yet.
"Now, you better get inside before Minerva sends out a search party," he said gruffly and bent his head again to steal another kiss.
While Hermione spent the days following Valentine's Day in a complete daze, Severus Snape was plotting. He did want to communicate with her rather than leaving another meeting to chance. Furthermore, he had no interest in distracting her from studying. She was a gifted student and would do extremely well in her NEWTs, and distracting her might jeopardise her NEWT results.
Regular communication via owl, however, was unlikely to distract her to the same extent. He knew she did not have her own owl, and using the school's own was out of the question. No owl would be able to find a Leander Sinclair.
Severus concluded to procure a more unconventional bird that could be trained easily into recognising him as Leander Sinclair and to deliver any mail directly to his quarters rather than to the staff table. Professor Malfoy owed him some favours, and he would pay her a visit after dinner.
It was the end of February, and Hermione slowly got used again to the daily routine of attending lessons and studying for the NEWTs. She forced herself sternly to keep Leander out of her mind during the day. But no force was able to stop her from thinking of him in the dark hours of the night. She relived their two kisses, hoping she would be able to at least get a hint of his taste again. She also often wondered about his identity, but decided there was no use pondering for now. She would find out at the end of the school year, and she could wait until then. If only he'd write at least, she thought longingly before sleep finally claimed her.
Another day at breakfast, and Hermione was disappointed yet again when owl post arrived for seemingly everyone but her. She was surprised when Professor Malfoy approached her, just as she left the Gryffindor table to head towards the dungeons for double Potions.
Narcissa smiled thinly and handed her a covered cage. "I've been asked to hand this to you, Miss Granger. I suggest you take it to your room rather than having classes disrupted. Good day to you." She turned abruptly and walked away.
Hermione was astonished. What was this about? She would be late for her Potions class no matter how much she hurried. Looking up, Hermione saw Draco heading towards the exit.
"Draco!" she called out and walked towards him. "Could you possibly excuse me at Potions? I've just received a package I need to take care of quickly. I'll hurry as much as I can."
Draco agreed, and she set off to Gryffindor tower as fast as she could. In her room, she took the cloth off the cage–and gasped.
A raven glared at her and croaked, then pointed his beak to his leg to which a roll of parchment was attached. Hermione hurriedly opened the cage, carefully took the raven out and untied the note.
"Here, let me find some treats for you. Meanwhile, why don't you perch on the chair over there." While she was talking, she searched her drawers and found some owl treats, which she offered the bird. Then she unrolled the parchment.
Hermione,
It took me a few days to find a suitable bird that will enable us to communicate more frequently. I hope Silenius and you will get on–he is a rather intelligent bird, and I figured you'd prefer such a trait over fancy-looking owls.
I have checked the program of opera houses and concert venues over Easter, however, this season appears to be somewhat lame. Maybe you would like to go out for dinner one evening, instead.
I am looking forward to spending time with you again. In the meantime, the memory of our last encounter will have to suffice.
Fondly,
LS
Hermione read the letter a few times before she carefully folded and pocketed it. Then she looked at Silenius.
"Welcome to your new home, Silenius. You can either stay here or go to the Owlery. It's up to you; although in this cold weather, I don't want to leave the window open, so you'll have to make up your mind now because I have to rush, or else Professor Snape will kill me."
Silenius looked at her disdainfully and turned his head to look out of the window. Then he moved his head from side to side.
Hermione rushed to provide him with his own water dish and finally made her way down to the dungeons. She entered the classroom as quietly as she could and hurried to her seat, fully expecting House point deductions or a detention for her tardiness.
However, Professor Snape merely nodded at her and said, "The instructions for today's potion are on the board, Miss Granger." Then he turned his attention back to the stack of parchments in front of him.
Hermione was starting to feel more at ease since Silenius' arrival. She was still longing for Leander, and she would gladly have broken any school rule just to see him again. But at least they were sending each other letters frequently.
Silenius insisted on living in Hermione's room rather than the Owlery. To her immense relief, Crookshanks had taken an almost instant liking to the raven, and the two familiars had no difficulty communicating. Whenever Silenius was out delivering a letter, Crookshanks sat patiently by the window, waiting for his friend to return.
Easter was approaching fast, and Hermione was looking forward to meeting Leander again for a few hours. The weather, unfortunately, had other plans in store. Good Friday started with one of the worst blizzards Scotland had ever seen, and on the Saturday before Easter, the snow had risen back to a two-foot height and was steadily growing.
It was late afternoon when Hermione moodily returned from the library. Completely unwilling to stay in the common room, which literally bounced with students partying cheerfully, she headed straight for her room.
"Damn," she muttered. "Can't even send Silenius out in this horrible weather. But surely, Leander knows what the weather is like here, and won't make his way to Hogsmeade..."
She decided to indulge in some reading. After all, it was a holiday weekend, and she was up to date with all her studying.
Later on, in the evening–Hermione had forgotten about dinner, being entirely absorbed in the book she had chosen–someone knocked on her door.
She sighed and got up to open it. It was a first year Gryffindor, looking terrified. "This... The Headmistress asked me to deliver this to you. You are Hermione Granger, aren't you?" he stuttered.
"Yes," Hermione replied kindly. "Thank you." She took the proffered envelope and closed the door again. Looking at the envelope, she recognised Leander's writing and ripped it open impatiently.
Hermione,
Sorry to not be able to make it. I guess even if I made it, there's no way you'd make it outside the doors of Hogwarts. The weather is somewhat ghastly.
When it improves, please send Silenius so we can take up our regular communication again. I rather feel I miss out on being unable to see you. I am so looking forward to the end of this school year. I miss you.
Looking forward to kissing you at the earliest opportunity,
LS
He likes me! her mind was shouting. Gone was her bad mood, forgotten was the book she had been so absorbed in until mere minutes ago.
Her euphoria lasted the entire Easter weekend, even though she eventually took to studying some more. There was no point wasting time with dreaming when it could be used more constructively.
When school started again the following Tuesday, every single teacher pointed out the importance of studying for the NEWTs, warning students that time would be flying between now and the tests.
Some students snickered. As if time suddenly would change pace, just because NEWTs were looming.
Unfortunately, May arrived much sooner than anticipated, and what was worse, it passed in a flurry. For most, the NEWTs were upon them far too soon.
Hermione was anticipating the NEWTs with an odd anxiety. Leander's promise that he would answer her question of who he really was, was never far from her mind, and the closer the exams were, the more her mind dwelled on it.
I bet he's definitely related to Professor Snape. There are just too many similarities between the two... The young witch recalled many comments and a few mannerisms that had reminded her positively of her Potions professor. Although... sometimes I feel as if he knows more about me than I know about him... Maybe he is someone in disguise who I already know... But who could it be? She forced herself to let it go for now and instead concentrated on the imminent Potions NEWT.
The practical was easy enough. She had long ago lost her fear of Professor Snape, and the kind, ancient, wizard who gave her the choice of brewing either the common potion asked for or to brew Veritaserum for extra credit reminded her too much of the late Headmaster to instil any fear in her.
When she left the classroom, confident that she had brewed the Veritaserum correctly, Draco was waiting for her. "Want to have lunch outside?"
They went to the grounds and sat down near the lake, idly chatting about the Potions Practical. "It didn't go too bad," Draco said. "Did you choose the Veritaserum, too?"
"Yes. Not that I'll need it for training as a Charms Mistress," Hermione replied. "But I couldn't resist it. I know how to brew it, so I might as well do that and receive extra credit."
They spent their lunch amiably talking until it was time to return inside for the theoretical part of the Potions exam.
Hermione read over what she had written once more, happy that the NEWTs were finally about to be over for her. Yes, that would do. She was certain of every answer she had given.
She felt a presence behind her as Professor Snape bent over to glance at her writing. That scent! Yummy! Hermione's head flew up. Leander!
She turned around and looked straight in the eyes of her Potions professor. "Of course," she whispered, realisation dawning. "How could I have missed those intense eyes..."
He regarded her intently and remained silent.
"You better do some explaining, and you better do it soon, Severus Snape," Hermione whispered. "And I want to learn that kind of glamour Charm!" she added.
Half an hour later, Severus led Hermione to his dungeon quarters, which were surprisingly full of natural light, courtesy of two large, south-facing windows, and motioned for her to sit on the tan-coloured cotton sofa, the colour of which complemented the mahogany book-shelves that lined the walls of his living room.
He told her everything. From the moment he had found himself sitting next to her at the English National Opera, wearing the glamour because he had no intention of being a Death Eater target, totally surprised with himself that he had enjoyed her company, to Minerva's condition to reveal his identity the moment the NEWTs were over for her, to procuring Silenius by calling in a few favours from Narcissa Malfoy, to feeling miserable because he saw her every day but could say nothing.
Hermione listened to him in awe. Her mind constantly switched between berating herself that she had not figured out sooner who this Leander was and marvelling over the fact that the elusive Potions professor of Hogwarts was so taken by her.
"You know, you do owe me an awful lot of kisses," Hermione said pensively. "After all, if you hadn't been so devious with that glamour and all, I could have stolen at least one kiss a day since Valentine's Day!"
Severus gladly obliged. When eventually they had to break the kiss for sheer lack of oxygen, he looked at her. "Did you know the Royal Opera House is playing Carmen tonight?"
"Really? In the original version?" Hermione asked excitedly.
"Of course! Did you know the French language is considered particularly suited for lovers?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.
Hermione shuddered in anticipation. "And? You are saying this because?"
"I have tickets, my witch. You have a couple of hours to get ready. May I request you to wear that midnight-blue dress you wore for the Magic Flute? Whoever chose it for you is at least in part responsible for me falling for you."
"That could be arranged," replied Hermione. "Ah, yes, that would be my mum. She was gracious enough to pass on the genetics of her good taste to me." She tried to sound modest but failed miserably.
He kissed her again, the world as such entirely forgotten to both of them.
Fin
A/N
This was written for the LJ SSHGExchange Summer 2006 as my gift for Cecelle.
Grateful thanks, as always, to Notsosaintly for beta-reading.
Reviews kindly appreciated