Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.
Chapter 5
Severus Snape had tried everything. Stumbling back to his quarters, he had stormed into his private lab and emptied his thoughts again and again watching them swirl in the misty whirlpool of his small pensive. Yet every time that he closed his eyes or even blinked he ended up looking at Potter's shocking green eyes and hearing Miss Granger's soft plea.
A full tumbler of firewhiskey had only befuddled the senses. The strongest of Dreamless Sleep potion did numb his mind, but he couldn't manage to doze off. A couple of hours of strolling around the sleeping castle had tired his legs so much that he could no longer step forward without wincing and cursing. The pleasant snores of several sleeping portraits around the dark corridors gave little comfort. Worse, surprisingly no student was out of bed. Only if I could bite the head of a foolish Gryffindor loitering around at this hour of the night and deduct some points! perhaps that could help me chase away these demons or become one of them, the potion master thought sulkily.
Resigning himself for another night full of horrid dreams and fitful sleep, when he finally returned to his chilling bed chambers, he had found a cup of hot chocolate cocooned within a stasis charm waiting on his bedside and the fire at the grates burning high. Marveling at the thoughtfulness of Dotty, the concerned house-elf, he shrugged off his frock coat and removed his dragon hide boot, and rested his head on the pillow.
First he cursed Granger's fixation at noting things to the last detail. For most of his initial dreams galloped around Potter getting kidnapped and killed in many ways and a sharp scream waking him up right after. Every time he bolted up on his bed imagining the screaming woman to be Lily or Miss Granger. The second set of dreams consisted of staring deep into the speckled reflective surface of Potter's eyes unwillingly. Unknown forces held his head in a vice grip and long bony fingers forced his eyelids to stay wide open, making him watch Granger getting hit by the curse. Shreds of purple light burnt into his wet eyes as he tried to jerk himself free desperate to wake up.
Sitting up on his bed soaked in sweat, crying to himself the potion master could vividly remember Hermione Granger's hushed whispers and feel her breath warm up his pricking ears.
"Pay attention...we are running out of time!"
The mouth of the silenced Death eater kept moving as he made a slashing pattern with his wand, A streak of the purple flame passed right through...Snape trapped in the young witch's small body distinctly caught the glimpse of purple aura, felt the searing pain rip apart his torso, and watched in agony his clothes rapidly soaking in all the blood. Dropping down on his knees he urged his arms to grasp at Potter before everything turned dark.
Throwing off the covers, he rushed into the adjoining bathroom. After emptying his dinner, showering once in the chilling cold then sizzling warm water he was glad to be able to stop seeing the young witch's face in the foggy air gathering around him. Perhaps he would have to meditate frequently now that his mental capacities were getting stretched with every passing day. Toweling himself dry, getting dressed in a fresh pair of shirt and woolen trousers Severus left his bedroom with a deep scowl and furrowed brows twisting his shallow face.
Surrounded by absolute darkness, Hermione could still smell it. Right there wrapped in the metallic smell of blood was that distinct sweet innocent flavor of flowers. She tried to move her fingers, hands, feet, and legs. Concentrating harder, she tried to reach out. Straining her ears, she tried to hear for a sound. Making an effort to inhale deeply she tried to pick up all the smells hovering around her. The effort to move a single muscle was exhausting, the act of blinking was incredibly tiring.
It occurred to her, she was neither lying down nor was she standing on her feet. Instead, someone was holding her in their arms, humming a soft lullaby in a voice that sounded strangely comforting and familiar.
Curious enough, she struggled to pry open her eyes but her eyelids felt like lead, she gulped down, willed her lips to part, and made an effort to say something but her vocal cords stayed frozen in her dry throat. Concentrating harder on the person right next to her, she realized it was a woman tending to her sleepy...wounded body!
In a flash, she remembered all of it! Oh dear, The battle at the Ministry of Magic. HARRY! She had warned him again and again about the whole thing could be a TRAP!...she had tried to stay close to him... but they weren't prepared, were they? They weren't expecting so many death eaters would ambush them, did they? Did Harry think about it? They were so fixated on Voldemort and the possible capture of Sirius Black, that they didn't think over anything else!
Initially, it did feel like a thrilling adventure, but then the whole thing turned upside down. Spells she had never thought of flew right and left as she had dashed through the Department of Mysteries. Chasing them was a bunch of grown-ups determined to torture, capture, or kill them...wizards and witches who happened to be parents or relatives of their classmates!
At the very first sight, those glass balls full of Prophecies had made her insides roll, fueling her growing aversion for Divination and made her feel awkward. So many of them stored away, hidden away from the eye of the public. How could these misty swirls trapped in glass balls come to decide the lives of ordinary people? She remembered hearing the priest at her local church back in her muggle suburban locality say something about Divine Intervention.
No there was nothing divine or enlightening about those mysterious orbs. The more she had studied them the more she had recoiled away. There was some unknown sinister force at work, someone who had a hold of these faceless unassuming people living their uneventful life right outside the walls of the Ministry without the faintest of an idea of their fates being already decided.
Her mind mulled over the words, The Department of Mystery? Was she still locked within its dark walls? She tried to move once again. This time the woman gently pushed her down and held on to her body in her arms protectively, never for once did she stop singing that calming lullaby.
Hermione had used the Time-Turner. It was exhilarating to tame time and make it heed to her needs per se. Apparently, the fates of Harry and Voldemort seemed to be connected, like their minds. She had thought a lot about it, realizing soon enough she still had a hell of a lot to learn, much like Harry.
But then how stupid of her...Bloody fucking Hell!
Silencing spell really!
What was she thinking?
Fingers brushed over her sweating forehead as if to soothe away her agonizing...pain! Yes, PAIN desperate to split her into millions of pieces, splinters, and shards of broken glass ripping her nerves, muscles, flesh, and bones.
She tried to move. The humming voice grew louder engulfing her with a blast of warm and motherly affection. The person smelt like fresh flowers, sea salt, sun-kissed breeze, the ocean, and moss.
She tried to open her eyes once again. Through her eyelashes, all she could catch were strands of red hair. There was a brush of soft lips over her sticky brow. She found herself in a hollow space enlightened by a cold fire dancing around her and beyond that everything else was dissolved in an absolute abyss of utter darkness.
She heard distant voices, a woman's half shouts, a man coaxing and someone hovering over her body. Through the darkness and fire and that warm embrace, a new source of cold vibes barreled towards her in giant waves. She pressed herself into the woman comforting her in fear. As if reading her mind, the woman with floating red hair, gently pushed her forward in the waiting arms of the now visible cold man wrapping in billowing dark winds, whispering in her ears encouragingly, "Love, go now. You still have a lot to achieve. He is waiting for you, now hurry, show him why it hurts, trust him, he knows, He always knows how to help. He cares and is capable of loving. All you got to do is look past his darkness."
Almost immediately two strong hands grabbed her face, her nostrils flared, she tried to see, prying open her eyes even if it hurt like hell. Dark obsidian eyes bore into her. She could smell blood, sweat, dirt, and mud. His breath ghosted over her sweating face. He smelled of potions. And then she was falling back into that same abyss of darkness this time accompanied by those glistening pairs of powerful dark eyes.
Waking up with a start, Hermione's hands flew up to cup her cheeks as she looked around fervently wishing to see those two people who had saved her life. A woman with red hair and a sweet voice; and a man with powerful soul searching eyes.
Blinking her eyes, she looked up and saw the high ceiling slowly growing brighter. Tilting her head she took note of the white screens around her bed and potions lined up on the small bedside table. Hospital wing, Hogwarts. Harry? Where are the others? Trying to sit up at once she gasped aloud. Pushing down the covers gingerly she realized every inch of her torso was wrapped in thick bandages. But Harry? And Ron? And the rest of the Dumbledore's Army!
"Um, Hello, Hermione, are you up, are you hurting? Just hang on, I will get Madam Pomphrey right away." Someone spoke hastily from the other side of the screen.
She knew that unsure voice. "Neville? Neville! Is that you? Where are the rest of them?" Hermione asked in a hoarse voice.
The screen shifted a bit, and Neville's head poked through the gap. He smiled at her in relief, then his eyes went wide and his face turned red. In no time he disappeared beyond the screen muttering apologies. Righting her sheets, over her body, Hermione spoke out loud, "It's all right Neville, you can come in. And I am fine, honestly, just tell me what the bloody hell happened while I passed out?"
"Oh, I better not, Madam Pomphrey will definitely skin me alive. But don't worry, all of us are safe but at Hogwarts. Dumbledore is back, Harry is sleeping so is Ron. Everything is fine." The boy spoke so fast, that she had trouble making out most of it. He did sound nervous though.
"Neville, what are you not telling me?"
Silence. She heard the scuffling of boots and then he was speaking again, "Hermione, I heard you screaming. You were asking for your mother...was it a nightmare?"
Choking over her words, Hermione whispered back, her mind desperately trying to remember the faces of her saviors, "I can't remember, but it did feel like her...only my Mum's hair...was I really that loud? Did I wake you up as well?"
"No, no. I was already awake. Saw a funny nightmare where Snape is feeding me shortbread and asking me to brew a very difficult potion...I don't really remember the name...then awarding me a hundred points while my Mum is clapping from over his shoulders and my Dad is whistling beside her. Then I give him a streamer made out of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. My Gran is shaking hands with him and gifting him her red handbag. Hagrid is playing his pan flute and Firenze is racing with Fang all about the Potion's classroom. Wicked. Would you believe it? Trevor is being a perfect mate, you know, been with me since we were brought in."
Hermione giggled and muttered, "Some dream indeed," then added," Remember to give Trevor something for his thoughtfulness," though she failed to remember what toads might like, perhaps a jar full of fireflies would do.
"You were knocked out by a curse, you know. It's...Oh! Sorry, Madam Pomphrey, And well Good Morning, Hermione…" his voice died down and Hermione could make out Poppy Pomphrey's voice. "Mr. Longbottom, you should have called for me, now go back to your bed this instant."
The screens parted and Madam Poppy Pomphrey walked in. Hermione pressed back into the mattress flinching a bit under the medi-witch's hard glare. For some reason, she looked angry, concerned, closed to tears, and downright worn out. Giving the Gryffindor a curt nod and a barely audible " Good Morning", she got down to work.
Studying the diagnostic spells, making a mental note of the result, Madam Pomphrey spoke at length, her tone crispy and unfriendly, "Miss Granger, are you feeling dizzy? Are you hurting?"
Pointing at her chest, Hermione gestured, "Right there, it feels a bit tender. Even my back is hurting. Maybe I shouldn't have sat up in the first place." The medi witch removed the cover, and studied the thick bandages, then helping her patient to turn sideways gently, she prodded the dressings there. Tutting to herself, the witch waved her wand and a short line of six potions floated towards Hermione. Obediently, the Gryffindor drank them up one by one feeling much like a guilty child being caught doing mischief.
Madam Poppy Pomphrey was the first woman in the entire castle to introduce her to the marvels of healing spell and remedial potions. Hermione Granger had spent considerable time in the healer's office during his initial months at Hogwarts, trying to understand how seamless, the subject of Herbology, Potions, Charms, and Magical creatures intermingled among themselves.
Healing as a subject couldn't have been taught at Hogwarts or any other magical school for obvious reasons. But Poppy had had the chance to find stray students seeking her out over the years. Some came drawn to the career possibilities the subject opened for them. Some wanted to learn or see for themselves how magical plants and concoction of potions worked together to heal all sorts of wounds, burns, and fixed bones. Others she voluntarily chose to teach because they found themselves taking up residence in the hospital wing almost every week or once in a month- like in the case of Severus Snape and Remus Lupin.
Finding the young witch's insatiable desire to gulp down every ounce of information, Poppy had chuckled good-heartedly, "Well, of course, you could learn more from Professor Snape, Madam Sprout, and Professor Flitwick…"
Mulling over the suggestion Hermione had smiled briefly, "Oh, yes, I can. I mean I think Professor Flitwick won't I am a bit afraid of going down to the greenhouses all by myself. Those plants…" then had dropped her voice and muttered, "I would rather find you than go down to the dungeons."
The medi-witch had nodded in understanding and had taken the girl upto the staff room, saying, "You can always find us in here during the day. You don't really have to go running around the castle, waiting for them outside the classrooms or meet them at their personal house offices."
When the medi-witch tried to leave, Hermione grabbed her arm and asked in a small voice, "What day is it?"
The old witch sighed heavily and replied in a remorseful voice, "Saturday, five in the morning. Miss Granger, I am not angry, rather I am disappointed mostly with myself. We should have taught better, at least you wouldn't have gone risking your life like this."
The screen parted once again before Hermione could come up with a fitting apology and the Gryffindor Head of the House appeared at the gap. Hermione gulped as she took in the sight of Professor McGonagall walking in with great difficulty leaning heavily on her stick. The witch stared over her with glistening eyes then turned at Poppy and asked in a shaky voice, "How is she?"
The other answered while collecting empty vials of potions in a small basket, " As you can see Minerva, Miss Hermione Granger is finally awake, responding well to the potions, but she will have to stay at the hospital wing a bit longer."
Halting near the white screen the medi- witch turned briefly to looked down at her patient and Hermione was shocked to see her wet eyes, "Miss Granger, you gave all of us such a fright. But I won't waste my breath in extracting promises out of you. You really don't tend to keep them... too determined to throw yourself into danger, and getting delivered at my doorstep barely alive. I have just resigned myself to treat you under all circumstances," she left sniffing in her handkerchief.
Transforming an empty potion bottle into an armchair, McGonagall sat beside her star pupil and watched her. Hermione realized this was her time to come out clean about everything they have been upto for the whole year. Anyways, this time they had truly gone too far. She might be expelled from Hogwarts, or worse the Ministry of Magic would drag her to the Wizengamort, and send her off to Azkaban after snapping her wand into two. She winced at the thought and shuddered thinking about what her parents would think when they would hear everything…
McGonagall spoke up, "The Ministry of Magic has witnessed and accepted the return of the Dark Lord. Thanks to a bunch of mindless teenagers who stole six thestrals from Hogwarts's ground, after deserting their Former Headmistress in the Forbidden Forest. The thestrals had flown back on their own but it seems the centaurs had taken Madam Dolores Umbridge into custody."
Gulping down heavily, Hermione tried to say something but her professor snapped, "I trusted you, Miss Granger. I always relied on you throughout this trying year. Do you think it is possible none of the staff of Hogwarts were aware of your little gang?"
Hermione gasped, " YOU knew!"
"Of course we did. I looked the other way thinking at least in this way you all are learning something. Mr. Potter," she choked a bit on his name, but pressed on, "He is good at the subject...but this...each one of you, no matter what the others think, but you all have disappointed me at the end."
"Madam, we thought...Sirius was...we thought You-know-who was holding him captive."
"Not you, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter has confessed it was he and he alone who thought Black was captured and being tortured by Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries. he clearly told me, you on the other hand tried to dissuade himself. My question is WHY didn't you try hard enough?"
Leaning on her stick, she shifted on her seat and glowered at her student, "You think you are old enough to handle the cruel truth about life. Sadly, Miss Granger, I can't shade you all any longer because the war is indeed going to happen. You were untrained and unprepared. But can I really blame you for it? No," sighing hard, the witch continued, "We, adults, are responsible for that. But you could have waited for the Order. You had managed to deliver the message to Professor Snape. You should have relied on him at least. Didn't it occur to you that Headmaster Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape?"
"Umm, Professor trust me, Professor Snape paid no attention to what Harry was trying to tell him," the young witch blurted out raising her voice forgetting altogether that they were at the Hospital Wing and she was talking to a teacher.
"Did you of all the people consider it for once, that Professor Snape is an Order member? Yes, his temperament makes it hard for many to trust him entirely but has he ever given you a reason to question his loyalty to the school? Think for once, who makes these potions for Madam Pomphrey?" pointing at her bedside table McGonagall asked, "Regardless of what Mr. Potter believes, Professor Snape did give Madam Umbridge a vial of Veritaserum making sure the potion was adulterated and useless. He had informed me about it right away. Now, think girl, why would the man do that, if at the end of the day he wasn't trying his best to keep you all safe. We all were singularly determined to do just that! "
"I...we...Madam Umbridge…" Hermione sputtered.
"Don't give me lame excuses," the witch hissed much like her animagus form.
Undeterred by the reproach, Hermione tried to explain, "But professor Umbridge was about to torture Harry with the Cruciatus Curse."
The transfiguration professor's eyebrows shot up at that, "What!" but she was quick to correct herself, "Well you might have to explain that to the Headmaster once he is back."
"We won't have left, trust me...it was me who lured her out of the castle," encouraged now that her mentor was not too angry, the Gryffindor witch confessed.
"Which you shouldn't have done in the first place. Because at the end of the day you were this close to death. In fact, Poppy tells me, your heart had stopped beating thrice after you were brought in. Both Dumbledore and Remus had tried to help you...but your body was simply refusing all medical help. Be thankful Miss Granger and try to drive in some sense into those two friends of yours at the same time. If Professor Snape had not been there, we would have lost you as well."
It hit her then, she fumbled with her words, " As well?"
Growing solemn Professor McGonagall gravely informed, " Sirius Black was murdered by Bellatrix LeStrange on Thursday night. I would expect that you would do exactly as Madam Pomphrey advises. Now lay down and try to sleep."
Tears were streaming down her cheeks, as Hermione sat shell shocked on her bed, gulping for air. She hadn't noticed Madam Pomphrey had returned and was currently holding a breaker of what looked like Calming Draught. The girl mumbled in disbelief, "Oh God! Harry? Where is Harry? How is he? Ron? Is Ron with him? Professor, please?" She couldn't say the rest because the mediwitch had already thrust a glass into her hand. When she tried to push it back into the witch's hand, Poppy huffed. Wasting no time, Hermione gulped down the potion grimacing slightly, then felt the wave of calm dulling her senses.
Professor Minerva was now standing next to her. Placing a comforting hand around the shaking witch's shoulders, she apologized, "Forgive me, Miss Granger, I shouldn't have spoken so harshly. But I had to tell you. Mr. Potter is resting. He hasn't eaten much nor has he said a word. Each time that he woke up, he has been waiting outside the screen listening to the sound of your breathing. None of us had the heart to tell him to lay down. The Gryffindor Common Room would prove too noisy for him right now. With your wounds still at various stages of healing, we couldn't permit him to come to sit beside you either. Hermione, Harry considers you much like a family, even if we can say the same for the Weasleys. Perhaps you could make him talk, or better eat a proper meal…"
"Can I? Will you? Yes, I would like to see him," Looking in between the two witches pleadingly Hermione asked, rubbing her cheeks and wiping off her tears. If she was going to see Harry, she needed to stop crying at once.
"Mr. Potter is currently sleeping right across your bed," Madam Pomphrey explained, then noticing how the young witch's face drooped at that, she added, "Perhaps, in the meantime, you could have an early breakfast?"
Her head of the house patted her shoulder and nodded encouragingly, "Well, I do need to have a quick word with Mr. Longbottom. Maybe after that, both of you can sit together and have a quiet meal. Then once Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are awake, they can join you? But remember don't overstress yourself and whenever Madam Pomphrey asked you to rest, you must do so without complaining? Am I clear?"
Nodding her head, Hermione agreed right away, then leaning into the witch's warm embrace, she cried on, thinking of the pain Harry was going through, thinking of Sirius's death, and also about the grim future awaiting for them right outside the comforts of the castle. She remembered her first year at Hogwarts. Away from her Mum and Dad, she had struggled to get accustomed to this new world. Her confidence came from volumes of knowledge that she cramped in her little head. Sadly most of her peers thought she was showing off. In her heart, Hermione knew she was just trying to live upto her own standards. She had to be perfect and there was no room for mediocracy.
When things overwhelmed her she would resort to binding herself in layers of rules and regulations. When students became tough, she plowed through the library. True, never did Professor McGonagall nor did the Headmaster Dumbledore ever asked her to aim so high. Hermione had done it simply with one notion in mind, "If this is where I truly belong, then I am not going to let anyone tell me otherwise." Not even the Fellow Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, nor the Slytherins and their head of the house Professor Severus Snape.
The dour man's acerbic comments had pushed and prodded her more, while Harry Potter's constant support, even if they were minuscule in the beginning had made her consider him as an ally. It was their common muggle upbringings and their similar sense of wonder reserved for this Magical world, that made both of them cross over that boundary of friendship and become something more. A family of sorts. She had this tendency to peck on him and he would happily accommodate her constant fussing and nagging. Much like siblings, though that constant bickering was taken up by Ronald Weasley. She sniffed as her head of the house conjured a fresh handkerchief and pressed a glass of water into her hands, murmuring close to her ears, "Drink this and ly down now."
Staring back at the old witch, the Gryffindor said in a daze, "Professor, I don't know what to say to Harry. Last time, we had Mrs. Weasley around. I don't think Harry would just... throughout this year he was more like a ball of fire trapped inside a small box."
Minerva knew exactly what her favorite student was trying to say. For once the formidable witch was at a loss of words. Indeed how do you comfort a boy who had a chance to enjoy the company of a caring family only to be orphaned once again? Patting the girl's shoulders, she could only advise, "Just be with him, the rest will take its own course. Time is the best healer, Miss Granger, always remember that."
Saturday should have been a slow-moving day being the first weekend after the Owls and the Newts, but with the dramatic departure of the Weasley twins, the short skirmish at Umbridge's office, a small group of Slytherins were finding themselves at the receiving end of the students' wrath. Grinding his teeth, Snape sent off two fourth and a fifth-year students to Poppy, watching in disgust how they were vomiting slugs and hopping like a bunny up the stairs. Peace was a far fetched idea, especially when he was forced to deduct points from his own house in public.
Snape did try hard to avoid the company of Hogwarts residents which proved to be a difficult task. Magical Britain seemed to have finally woken up to accept the return of Lord Voldemort. Locked within the grounds of Hogwarts, hundreds of students were trying to assess the situation, divided into small groups dotting the length and the breadth of the ancient castle. His foul mood and a prominent scowl were noticed by many of his colleagues, who were wise enough to leave him out of their conversations for once.
Minerva's presence at the High Table was the only thing that had stopped him from hexing anyone who spoke too loudly. As intuitive as ever, the Scottish witch had refrained herself from asking him about his health. Placing her long walking stick next to his seat she sat down and sipped into her tea in silence, allowing him to drink up his second cup of coffee. The Gryffindor Table had cheered the moment she walked in guided by Hagrid, though Dumbledore was still away on urgent business. Strikingly the Slytherin table was noticeably empty, the other three houses were busy making jokes about that until Snape had deducted about a hundred points for a cluster of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors. Currently, all of them were glaring at him from across their long tables.
Breaking through his reverie, Minerva cleared her throat and said, " So your snakes thought of waking up early and having a quick Breakfast? By the way, Poppy informed me about yesterday's fight. She had to spend the whole day fixing students. She is annoyed and snappy. The house glasses are looking less attractive once again. You know she could have been a perfect example for these students."
Snape frowned at that and after a pause whispered, "Who?"
"Dolores, you must have taught her as well, or was Horace still teaching the senior years, I can't quite remember. She wasn't remarkable nor was she a poor performer. She was just a mediocre student. But she did work hard enough to become an undersecretary to the ministry of magic. I agree that her disciplinary measures were rather ancient and downright malicious. But Albus often forgets these are students and not grandchildren. Trust me, I don't approve of his attitude of looking the other way when pupils are up to some mischief," sipping in some tea, she relished the warmth of it and added, "Dolores was mostly overshadowed by others in her class. Her transfiguration skills were passable."Buttering her toast Minerva looked sideways long enough to notice the furrowed brows of the potion master. The man's eyes were currently hovering over the students, but his jaws were tight and his nostrils were flared up.
Filius who was listening from the other side piped in, "One of the few students I have ever taught who owned a short wand. But she was good at charms, yes...a slow starter, but I never pinned her as a despondent witch craving for ultimate power."
Snape realized if he stayed any longer his growing headache might drive him to do something disgraceful. Standing up, he murmured, "Her potions skills were nothing noteworthy, or else I would have remembered. It doesn't mean we should all forget those blood quills."
Watching him storm out of the Great Hall, the Charms Professor nodded with a grim look, "Also, there are those under jinxes and hexes she has used on these students...we should compile a long list detailing all her horrible acts, in case the Ministry decides to give her a slip."
"Once Albus returns, I shall speak to him regarding this Filius, you have my word," Minerva confirmed her eyes burning with determination.