On Teenagers and Love

a story by anamatics

part three - the fog

Chapter 24 - On New Magic


It is with some trepidation that Hermione knocks on the door to Snape's offices later that evening. Interacting with the man one on one was never… her favorite activity. Especially not when her nerves were already frazzled from a day spent trying not to splitch herself while apparating in Hogsmeade while also distracted by everything Fleur had told her and reliving everything they'd done. Easter was coming soon, and she wasn't ready. And to be ready, Hermione needed to speak to Pansy and she was not about to let Pansy or Snape know that she knew where the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms were. So, it was speaking to Professor Snape, or waiting until their patrol on Tuesday. The urgency in Fleur's voice had implied that waiting was not an ideal solution. "I need to speak to Parkinson."

"I am not an errand boy, Miss Granger." Snape hisses. "Sort your schedule out on your own time."

"Please," Hermione says once more. "It's about her—" she looks down at her feet. "—Professor, I know she's the one who told you I was looking at memory charms. I want you to know that I've stopped trying to learn them. I couldn't figure it out."

"Lying is unbecoming, Miss Granger." Snape leans across his desk, his fingers splayed out over an arithmantic proof. There's a vial of something sickly green beside his inkwell. Hermione flicks her eyes back up to meet Snape's, afraid of being caught appearing even remotely snooping. His gaze seems fathomless and Hermione feels the tug of something at the back of her mind. He wouldn't—she can't stop him if he is. "Especially when one clearly still mucking about with one's own mind. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Sir—"

"Twenty then, Granger. What did you forget?" He stares at her and she stares back, unsure what to say. She doesn't recall what she was meant to forget. She can feel the prickling again, and she knows she's looking too. His nostrils flare and the sensation stops.

Swallowing, Hermione shakes her head. It doesn't help that she's never lost this many points before at once. She isn't sure what to say. The memory charm clearly worked. Snape's concluded that himself. "I don't remember."

Snape rises to his feet, staring down his nose at Hermione. "Then perhaps, Miss Granger, you should consider the charm mastered." He moves to the door and pulls it open, not waiting for Hermione to follow, but the expectation is clearly there. She follows him and he points to a spot opposite his door. "Wait there."

Hermione nods. Moves away from Snape's office door and watches as he locks and wards it. As soon as he steps away from it, the door seems to fade into the stonework of the corridor. Hermione bites back the urge to ask him what spell he used as he sweeps away toward the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

Five minutes later he returns with Pansy half a step behind him, glowering at his back. She catches sight of Hermione and her brow furrows. She glances back to Snape and Hermione tries to silently convey to her that if she could please not say anything smart Hermione will absolutely try to find her some time alone with Hannah Abbot. Pansy's lips press into a thin line but she falls into step beside Hermione as soon as she and Snape draw level. Snape turns back to his doorway without a word, vanishing inside and slamming the door.

Reaching down, Hermione grabs Pansy's hand and pulls her up the short flight of steps that will take them to a secret passageway up a narrow ladder to the second floor outside of the prying eyes that may see them together. Pansy climbs the rungs behind Hermione scowling, but does say a word until Hermione's whipped out her wand and is unlocking a seldom-used classroom. Once they're inside, and the door is shut, Hermione feels like she can finally breathe again. "We're doing the expansion charm, tonight."

"You dragged me away from revisions, away from my bed, to tell me that you're doing your bloody charms project tonight." Pansy's lip curls. "You got Snape to get me. Oh, Granger, you must be desperate."

"You helped design the spell – checked my maths, confirmed my poofs. You deserve to see it made real."

"Shouldn't you still be in Hogsmeade with Delacour?"

Why Pansy thinks that the already truncated Hogsmeade visit would be allowed to go on longer for her than any other student is beyond Hermione's ability to comprehend at the moment. She would have loved it, yes. She still has so many questions about their bond that Fleur has yet to answer. "She had to go back to France."

"Pity, you could use a good fuck, make you less prone to dramatics."

With a raised eyebrow, Hermione casts a notice-me-not charm on the door and then flicks her wand toward the lamps that line the wall. She looks over her shoulder at Pansy, just a little smug. "What's to say I didn't have one?"

"What between the apparation lesson and the aurors up everyone's arse not letting you bloody take two steps before they started demanding to know where you were going?" Pansy pinches the bridge of her nose. "Can't imagine it was that good of one. Delacour can't be that good."

Hermione's flushed a little pink, but she says nothing. "Will you help me cast or not?"

A small, sly smile blossoms at Pansy's lips as she lowers her hand. "Why are Gryffindor twenty points behind where they were at dinner?"

Biting her lip, Hermione finally decides that she should take McGonagall's advice. "You told me you thought this was a safe space."

Slowly, Pansy nods.

"I lost them."

"You? Hermione that's twenty points. What did you do?"

"I…I mastered memory charms." Her fingers grip her wand tightly. She will charm this conversation right out of Pansy's head if she so much as says the wrong thing. "It's not a solution to the problem, not in the long-run, but it's a start."

"Merlin, Granger, what problem?"

Hermione looks at Pansy dully. "My parents are muggles."

"Yes, we've established your poor breeding."

Hermione wants to hit her. She won't directly say it because then she will have to take it from Pansy's mind. She stares at Pansy, watches her raise a hand to brush her dark hair from her eyes, watches her lick her lips in thought, watches her fingers twitch against the wand holster at her wrist. And then, like dawning clarity, she sees Pansy follow the line of Hermione's implication. "That…is..."

Awful.

Illegal.

Immoral.

"The only way to keep them safe." Hermione confirms. She closes her eyes, waits for judgment. When it doesn't come, she opens them again, looking to Pansy.

The other girl is staring at her, her expression unreadable. Finally, she says. "You're either brave or stupid, Hermione. It's very illegal, what you're proposing. Especially to relatives. Especially, especially to muggles. In some circles, it might be considered… dark." There's something unreadable on her face. "You're going to make me forget this conversation, aren't you? Like I've been whacked on the head with a great bloody bludger."

"A what?"

Pansy's look is withering. She speaks as though explaining to a very small child. "A bludger," she says slowly. "For quidditch."

"Quidditch?"

With that, Pansy marches over to Hermione, her wand materializing in her hand so quickly Hermione cannot react before it's pressing to her temple and Pansy is whispering a counter charm with such force that Hermione nearly falls backwards with the force of all the memories that come rushing back to her. She presses a hand to her temple, grabbing at it as the pain mounts, blossoms, and then erupts and she remembers.

First year and she's setting Professor Snape's robes on fire as Lee Jordan calls a match.

Draco Malfoy buying his way onto the Slytherin team in second year.

Third year – dementors – Harry falling.

Last year – Ron's inexplicable win, the coronation of their Weasley King.

Pansy lowers her wand and steps back, wand still held loosely. "Hurts, doesn't it, having your brain rearranged without your consent?" There's a challenge in her voice.

"Is this your trying to stop me?" Hermione rubs her temple. She feels like Pansy's taken a bludger to her head.

"No, Granger, this is me telling you that you've got to mean it when you do it."

There is no response Hermione can give. She slumps down on a dusty chair and pulls her beaded bag from her school bag and sets it on the desk in front of her. It looks like such a small, useless thing, sitting there on the dusty wood, the beads on it's fringe glittering in the lamplight.

Another chair scrapes across the floor and Pansy slumps down opposite her. Hermione digs out a piece of chalk from the front of her bag and snaps it, tossing one half to Pansy. "Start with Omega and work up. I'll work down from Alpha."

Pansy takes the chalk and draws the spell diagram in a slow arc, writing in the constants. Hermione doesn't often get a chance to actually attempt to magically validate one of her proofs, but given the alterations to the spells that they've done, the spell cannot be done with just a wand. Hermione sets the chalk to the top of the diagram and starts to write out the proof.

At the center, their knuckles bump. Hermione looks down at the spell, eyes scanning Pansy's writing and then her own, and drops the beaded bag into the center of the diagram. Pansy steps back, chalk covering her fingers and nods. Hermione points her wand at the bag and whispers the spell.

The spell diagram glows white and then shifts, turning a gentle green then sharp red before extinguishing. They'd done it. Created a spell at just seventeen.

She looks up at Pansy, a smile at her lips. "It worked."

And Pansy's grinning right back at her. "Granger, you're an absolute madwoman."