Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

Chapter 7

Harry felt the mattress next to him dip and the very next moment someone gently grabbed his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Shifting his head, he could make out the bushy hair and the almond-shaped face. He tried to come up with words, but Hermione Granger placed a finger over his lips and shook her head, whispering, "It's okay Harry. Next time we will be prepared."

Threading his fingers through hers, the boy-who-lived just held on to her, concentrating on her beating pulse. She was no more bleeding all over the place. She was alive, she was conscious and she was talking to him. Unlike Madam Pomphrey, Lupin, Madam Sprout, Mrs. Weasley and Professor Flitwick, Hermione didn't pity him, she didn't coax him to get up and continue living his life as if nothing had happened. She didn't act that Sirius's death was just a nightmare.

Among all the students, Hermione was worst hit, yet here she was, sitting on his bed, right before dawn, giving him hope to carry on. While all the others looked at him with remorse dancing in their eyes, Hermione, he was sure looked much like a lioness in charge. She always did, he didn't require to put on his glasses to verify that.

"Harry, my mother once said, people who love us, don't really leave us," the witch whispered after a long while.

Swallowing hard, Harry nodded and replied, "I suppose so."

"I think that is all we need to remember."

"Hermione?"

"Yeah, this time it's different."

"How?"

"Even around this time, Mrs. Weasley came and hugged me. Professor McGonagall was always sitting beside one of our beds, looking worried and angry. I am sorry, I I had to tell her everything. Madam Pomphrey and she has been trying to make me eat. But I couldn't...all I could do was stare at those white screens. I can't even manage to cry. I was afraid I might as well lose you. Hermione, I never wanted you all to get hurt. I told you all to stay behind..."

Hugging him mindful of her wounds, Granger scolded, "Don't be ridiculous! Don't you dare apologize Harry James Potter. It was my fault, entirely singularly my fault. I should have used the spell 'petrifigus totalus' instead of 'silencio'. You see, my fault. Don't beat yourself too hard about it. Do I make myself clear?"

Smiling ruefully, Harry mumbled, this time reaching for his glasses, "Crystal. Now, we need to take you back to your bed, and I need to call Madam Pomphrey at once. She is biting everyone's head off, got a nasty temper. Never seen her like this. Maybe we did end up scaring her to much."

Standing up, Hermione allowed him to help her back into her bed and replied, "Neville said something similar. Harry?"

Grabbing the screen, Harry halted, and looked back at his friend, "Yes?"

Pursing her lips, Hermione requested, "If you ever feel like you need a person to talk to, blabber and unburden, you can talk to me, in case Ron is acting up."

The edge of his lips curled at that, and he whispered back, "Considering his emotional range is limited to a teaspoon, I think I will take you up on that. Just get well soon Hermione."

"Would you like to have an early breakfast, just you and me…?" the witch asked slightly encouraged by his smile.

"How about we wait for the others to wake up as well. I haven't read the Prophet yet. I rather want you to read them and tell us, 'what's in between the lines.' I know you are pretty good at catching those 'hints hidden in plain sight'. Fred and George promised to send a hamper from Honeydukes, and there is a basket waiting at Madam Pomphrey's office from Mrs. Weasley…" he trailed off and lowered his voice blushing a bit, "I overheard."

"You don't sleep much do you?" the witch frowned and asked.

Harry looked down at his feet and shook his head.

"Oh Harry," Granger's lips trembled. All she wanted to do was hug him once again.

"It's fine, Hermione, really, a lot goes around here while we are sleeping. I keep hearing Dumbledore is away most of the time, but the Headmaster makes it a point to visit the Infirmary late in the night. McGonagall has been sleeping here. Madam Pomphrey bosses over everyone. It's kind of fun watching her glower at McGonagall. And Snape…" he made a face.

Feeling apprehensive, his friend urged," What about him?"

Harry thought he shouldn't tell her about Snape's nighttime visits, so he just said, "He spends a lot of time here."

He was rather shocked to see Hermione's reaction to that. She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Oh! That! Yeah he does come here a lot."

"You knew?" he looked back with wide eyes.

"Always have. After all, he brews most of the potions for Madam Pomphrey. And every one of her patients dont react the same way, so he studies patient files and makes adequate adjustments. Madam Pomphrey had told me all about it when I had that incident with Polyjuice potion. Professor Snape might not be a certified Healer, but he is knowledgable enough. Though I agree, it doesn't make him less…"she grimaced.

Harry clenched his jaw and cut in, "You should rest, I will go and get Madam Pomphrey." He hurried out unable to take in those words, Sirius was dead and somehow, Severus Snape was to be blamed for that. That git was not fast enough to contact the Order. Even if Kreacher had double-crossed them, still it was Snape's fault. Even if it sounded lame, yet Harry desperately wished to hold on to it.

In the depths of his mind, Snape grudgingly thanked both Harry Potter and his Head of the House Minerva McGonagall for giving him the opportunity to speak to his godson right before the Breakfast. Making his way up the final steps that led to the Entrance Hall, the Potion Master had seen both Potter and Draco prepared to hex each other, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His Slytherins were definitely out for Potter's blood this time, since they believed the Wonder Boy was to be blamed for their fathers' imprisonment. While Lucius and Crabbe Sr, were captured, Goyle was getting questioned by the Auror's department.

He had also noticed, through the partly open old oak doors, Minerva walking towards the castle from over the Hogwarts grounds holding her tartan carpet bag in one hand and her walking stick in the other.

The Slytherin professor had deliberately waited for the witch to take matters in her hands. For once he truly wasn't inclined to watch the ruby and emerald stones flow up and down the house hourglasses. Sneering at Potter who didn't back away and looked back at him with equal loathing, Snape inched closer to Draco, making certain the blonde wouldn't slip away.

His clandestine movements didn't escape Minerva's shrewd eyes. Snape was indebted once again as the witch chose not to comment on it. Instead she just excused herself and hurried to meet with Madam Sprout and Professor Flitwick, mumbling something about Albus was called away once again.

Ordered by his Head of the house, Potter stormed out of the castle pocketing his wand, while Draco stood rocking on his heels seething in anger at the Entrance Hall. Twisting his face he hissed at his godfather, "You should have done something. Anything!" Severus waited for Minerva, Flitwick, and Pomona to walk inside the Great Hall, then looked around. Finding themselves alone, the potion master warned under his breath, "Not here," and dragged the boy into the nearest classroom without wasting any time.

Defiant and frustrated the boy stood behind him, his robes wrinkled, his tie coming off and hair askew, while Severus swiftly placed a powerful locking and silencing spell on the faded oak door.

Behind him, Draco growled much like a caged animal, "Save your lecture, Uncle Sev. Just tell me, if you got any news about my mother? Why hasn't she written an owl yet? And why on earth is that Lunatic Hag writing to me?"

Swirling around the Potion master grabbed the boy and shook him demanding, his face paler than before, "Who has contacted you?"

Thrusting a crumpled parchment, Draco jerked his arm free and began pacing around the room in short circles.

Dearest Draco, it read,

You have once again proved yourself worthy in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Your tales of trying to thwart Potter and his minions have been such a delight. It was quite wise of you to take sides with Madam Umbridge. But Hogwarts these days doesn't teach real magic to its students, do they? Forcing them to mix themselves with mudbloods and coaxing them to take muggle studies, preposterous moves made by a dotty old man.

Don't waste your tears on griefing about your father's mistakes. Instead, it is time to grasp the opportunities coming your way. You alone can propel your family name and honour to great heights. Put your faith in the Master's cause, the coming weeks will soon turn glorious. We will meet soon.

Until then,

Aunt Bella.

Watching Snape's eyes trace the words at the end of the parchment, Draco finally shouted in fear, "What opportunities is she talking about? Where is my mother?"

Without answering him, Snape brought out Narcissa's letter from his robes and handed it over. The boy eyed him suspiciously for a while then snatched it off his hands. Turning away, he tore open the envelope and started reading. By now tears were streaming down his stormy blue eyes and his face was flushed.

Feeling exhausted he staggered backward and flopped on an empty chair holding the letter close to his heaving chest, taking in comfort from the parchment that did smell like his mother's favorite perfume..

In a small voice Draco rasped after a brief moment, " I don't like her. I don't trust her. What does she mean by 'we will meet soon'? Will she harm Mother because father had failed…" looking up at the quiet man he implored, "Do something, say something! Will the Dark Lord...or the Ministry throw her in Azkaban as well. Will they kill her and Father...what will happen to him? Don't just stand there, Say something!"

Watching the boy breathing hard, Snape brought out a vial of calming draught and kept it on the desk before him. Draco's blood shot eyes narrowed but he didn't touch the potion.

In a gentle voice reserved only for his godson, Severus asked, "What did your mother say?"

The boy sneered, "She expects me to lay low! Can you believe it, MY mother asking me to act like a miserable vermin? I should have hexed Potter, Better Kill him…"

He didn't get much time to finish that sentence, because Snape had grabbed him by his collar and had pulled him off his seat. Bringing his face close to the snivelling boy, he spoke in a dangerously low voice, "You do that and watch how The Dark Lord murder your parents right in front of your eyes. Very very slowly. Tell me can you leave with that...TELL ME!"

Right in front of his eyes, Draco started shaking his head violently and then crumpled against him. Howling and wailing in absolute desperation he hugged Snape with all his might, wanting to just vanish somewhere within those billowing dark layers of robes.

Holding him close Severus waited patiently, running his hand over his back trying to mimic the comforting gesture he had often seen Poppy execute while dealing with the frightened first years.

When the sobs reduced to soft whimpers the man spoke, "I know how claustrophobic it feels, trust me. Even if it's bright and sunny outside, you find it difficult to feel the warmth or breath in the fresh air. The invisible ominous world seems to be closing on you determined to strangle you. But you can't allow that to happen," pulling the boy off gently he looked into his wet eyes and asked, "Don't you see Draco, everyone is watching you from the shadows? Didn't you realise for yourself, Madam Umbridge has just used you as a pawn? Tell me, did you like that?"

Ashamed he looked down at his boots, but two bony fingers tilted his chin up once again. Draco Malfoy had always seen his godfather wearing his emotionless mask. Over the years, he had learned to decode the tiniest curl of his thin lips, his arched eyebrow or his glare. But today, he watched the man staring at him with such deluge of affection and concern that his heart twisted within his ribcage and his breath caught in his throat.

Grabbing his shoulder Snape kneeled in front of him and murmured slowly trying his best to let his words sink, "Both the Ministry and the Dark Lord are watching you as we speak. You need to control your emotions...you cannot go brandishing your wand hexing people...even Potter. You are no longer under Former Headmistress's protection."

When Malfoy opened his lips, Snape cut in, "Yes former, Dumbledore is truly reinstated. The ministry is shamefaced and the Prophet is right, Minister Fudge is facing a lot of opposition from the public. Your father is in Azkaban which once again makes things worse for both your mother and you. Aurors will snoop into the Manor and comb through it hunting for anything that keeps Lucius locked away forever."

Slightly confused, Draco mumbled in a wet voice, "But then Bellatrix…"

"It is possible that you will have to stay with her for a while. You do know she is in favour of the Dark Lord," that earned him a quick nod, "It is true you cannot trust a lunatic, but you don't wish to get her angry. Keep your mouth shut, your head bowed, leave Potter aside," when the boy tried to look annoyed at the suggestion, Severus glared hard enough to make him eat up his words.

He spoke slowly making sure to stress on each and every syllable, "Believe me Draco, this thing is no longer about just Potter, or Weasley, or Granger. You do know the Dark Lord wants him alive. You have seen how people die. Cedric Diggory was not supposed to die, even Sirius Black…"

"Is it true? Did Aunt Bella really kill him? I remember Moody, er Bratty Crouch Jr actually explaining the 'unforgivables' to us. He said you will have to mean it...I read the books Father gave me over the holidays. They said you need to concentrate on the strongest of emotions, you need to actually enjoy it, pour in all your feelings of hatred into casting those spells..." he choked and trembled. Snape stared at him wondering whether to lie or let him realize things on his own. War was itself an experience, no book could teach it no lecture could make it more real.

Growing paler, Draco kept on muttering, "Is it true, Uncle Sev? Did Aunt Bella drive Longbottom's parents mad...she mentioned it once you know...she made it sound like an accomplishment...like it was her birthright to punish those who oppose the Pure Blood doctrines."

"Draco, keep your thoughts private. You don't wish the others to get a wind of them," Snape hissed in warning.

Taken aback the boy blanched and then wiped off his face frantically, muttering, "Never, I won't tell anyone...I don't wish to hurt Mother...Uncle just tell me, will I need to torture and kill someone as well?"

Snape didn't have the heart to tell him that his worst fears might as well come true. Instead, he shushed the boy and vanished his tears, straightened his robes and righted his hair with a couple of flicks of his wand.

Accustomed to his godfather's silence, Draco walked up to the door and waited for the man to disable the spells. Placing his pale fingers over the latch of the door he whispered loud enough for the other man to hear, "Between you and me, I don't think I have it in me to kill someone. I am sure I would die before I could cast the Killing curse. I am not my father neither can I become like Bella. I think I am more like my mother."

Long after the Slytherin student had left closing the door quietly behind him, Snape had stood still dumbfounded, remorseful, and helpless. He wished to tell him everything, but Draco much like Potter was not prepared to handle the truth. Running his fingers over his tired face, then staring around the vacant classroom, the potion master was glad to notice, the small potion bottle of calming draught was no longer sitting on the dusty desk.

Breakfast at the Great Hall wasn't so remarkable, even if his Slytherins had returned to have meals together with the other houses. Much of the cheerfulness was sucked out with the arrival of the owls and the copies of Daily Prophet. The paper had finally caught hold of the crust of the last Thursday events. The rising din was acceptable and every other head was for once ignoring the presence of the Slytherins and focusing on the empty spots at the Gryffindor Table.

At his elbow, Minerva spoke, while he watched Malfoy, Zabini and the Greengrass sisters depart, "Only Albus can give these students some sense of certainty. He needs to address the school soon enough, then pausing a bit, she added, "If you are not too preoccupied, would you come to my office? I wanted to discuss a few things, before the term break?"

Giving her a slight nod, Snape agreed and dropped a potion next to her plate. Poppy had shared the list of potions the deputy headmistress required with him. He saw it fit enough to help the old medi-witch out under the circumstances.

The Gryffindor witch sighed and drank it up without a fuss. Snape pursed his lips and kept an eye on her the rest of the meal wondering, whether it was right for her to leave St. Mungo's and come back to Hogwarts in such a hurry. The old woman had taken three stunners right on her chest, her magical core had borne most of the impact of those spells. She wasn't young anymore, she should have had ample rest. In the absence of the Headmaster, Minerva often ran pillar to post in order to manage the school without considering her health. Flitwick and Pomona were doing their bit, but the Gryffindor hated to be left out of things.

The Gryffindor Head of the House quarters was sunny and draped in shades of red and golden. Like Snape McGonagall was a book hoarder in plain words, but she had arranged them much in the fashion of Ravenclaw common room. Hogwarts coat of arms hung right behind her desk and next to it the banner of the Head of Gryffindor swayed a bit in the breeze. From the open window beside it Snape could get a glimpse of the Great Lake, the Hogwarts ground, the Quidditch practice pitch, and a bit of the Forbidden Forest beyond Hagrid's Hut.

Close to the sill, there was a small planter with a row of Swamp Pink encased under a 'weather charm'. There weren't any portraits in the room but for a small one hanging from a peg right next to the entrance. It was a small painting of a ginger cat, sitting on its hind legs, watching him with beady eyes.

Gesturing Snape to take one of the seats close to the open bay window, the witch lowered herself on her armchair and grabbed her knees, pressing them to ease off the cramps.

Eyeing the man and then her stick, she grimaced, "If only I could hurl this abomination into the fire this instant. But I won't waste your time by talking about the weather, Severus."

"You shouldn't be moving about, running around the whole place so soon," the man observed, a frown gradually growing on his shallow face.

The witch waved her hand to brush off his comment, "Trust me, do you think Poppy hasn't tried that already. But that is not what is worrying me. Severus, I am not so concerned about my injuries. I am rather tensed and worried sick about these children. There are several of them who have never healed from the scars the first war left on their mind. The passed out students have found a way to deal with it. I heard everything from Hagrid and I need to thank you for what you did for Mr. Longbottom."

Snape sat rigid looking back at the pensive witch with bored interest.

"Lupin had warned me about him when he was teaching Dark Arts. Now I hope you can understand the true meaning of Mr. Longbottom's Boggart. The boy does try hard. We can all see that."

Snape got up and stood next to the window, facing away from the transfiguration professor. Watching the students wandering about the lush green grounds he murmured loudly enough for the other witch to hear," His lack of confidence is inexcusable."

"Yet Neville dreams of helping his parents recover. Augusta is strict enough, but she is not too hopeful about him. She doesn't forget to berate him, complaining about his forgetfulness or his lack of courage. Neville is sensitive and full of promises, much like many others. He just needs people to have faith in him. The boy yearns for his parents especially his mother. If only I could do something…"

"Have you consulted Madam Sprout regarding this matter?"

"Of course, I have Severus. In fact, both of us sat down with him during his career advice meeting. The boy couldn't come up with anything substantial."

"Did you mention this to Albus?" pinching the bridge of his nose he corrected himself, "Of course, you couldn't, with Umbridge prowling around. And I don't think Albus will be able to say much into the matter either. He will be too focused on the Golden Trio."

"Exactly, Severus. Flitwick tells me the boy is good at Charms, but if he is thinking of helping his parents…"

Wheeling about, Snape started pacing the room and spoke all at once," if he is inclined to do research work, he has to be good in both Herbology and potions. He can opt for a short course at St. Mungo's but with the war breathing down our necks, I don't think they will continue with that program. But we do have Poppy here, she can help."

"You are missing the point?"

Snape halted right in front of the old woman and smirked, "NO you are missing the point. You got all the answers staring right in front of you, yet you are not seeing them."

When Minerva continued to frown, the young colleague harumphed and hissed, "Longbottom lacks confidence, he is afraid of dark billowing cloaks, but he is not inapt. He is capable of performing even under pressure. And perhaps his forgetfulness has something to do with his traumatic childhood experience. That boy was trying to find answers near the Great Lake, not kill himself. I know it sounds twisted, but he is not a lost cause. Neither is Granger nor Potter."

"Miss Granger is a bright witch, only you..." Minerva tried to correct him, but Snape was not paying her much attention.

"Granger has to improve in Dark Arts, and Potter has to focus. He will never be able to block The Dark Lord altogether, but he has to find a way to keep him from eavesdropping into his mind. Mr. Weasley fairs well as a strategist, but he has his temper and ego to blame for ruining his chances. Each one of these kids lacks a lot of things. But they are not lost per se. They got us, you and the rest of the staff. Let Albus concentrate on Potter, while we do as much as we can to train the others."

Breathing hard he turned away and stood near the window once again, then uttered softly," And Minerva I would rather suggest you look closely at your wards from now on because these children have grown years in just a handful of months."

Heaving a long sigh, Minerva mumbled under her breath, "That they indeed have." Then looking at her young colleague she informed, "Madam Grubbly-Plank wanted to speak to you before she left."

"About?"

"Mr. Zabini has been talking to her for some time, she says, the boy is keen to pursue a career in the Care of Magical Creatures. Poppy on the other hand has come to believe he is interested in Healing."

"None of it should come as a surprise, Deputy Headmistress," Snape drawled.

Minerva scowled at his back and the other smirked when he caught it in her reflection on the glass pane of the window. She replied tersely, "I am not surprised. Rather I am glad. Don't forget it is I who send out the Hogwarts letters. I clearly remember meeting his father. Even if the boy lives with his mother, I have maintained a steady correspondence with Mr. Zabini Sr. I was even wondering if I need to contact some Magizoologists. There are a couple of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who have shown similar interests."

"You traveled to South Africa to meet Mr. Zabini?" Snape turned slowly and asked bewildered.

"Actually Germany. He was there rescuing some classified endangered species. So do I need to put the son's name on the list or not?"

Snape replied, "You can, but Blaise Zabini does not strike me as a globe trotter, he rather prefers to stay at one place and research."

Getting up, the witch walked to the man with an envelope in her hand. As he narrowed his eyes, she shoved it into his waiting hands explaining, "Dolores has taught me something good. As a teacher I should not choose favorites rather, all these students are my responsibilities. I can't do anything about Potter, but there are hundreds besides him. Both Poppy and I wrote a reference letter for Mr. Zabini regarding his health issues. We have also alerted an acquaintance in St. Mungo's about it. If he thinks it is growing worse, he wouldn't have any trouble getting an appointment. And I hope you have checked on Mr. Nott. He has always been a quiet boy, but after his mother's sudden death over Christmas break, the boy has withdrawn himself, much like Potter."

Transferring the envelope inside his robe pockets, Snape sighed, "I try to do my best, Minerva, but you do understand the complex dynamics of my house."

"And with You-know-who back, things have grown more complicated. The Inquisition Squad was a blow to all of our confidence," McGonagall whispered, as she continued to stand next to the lean man studying the grounds, taking into the cheerful sight with a pinch of salt, "I won't be surprised if few of them will openly defy us in the next term now that they have got a taste of power. I am afraid we might lose them to the Dark side sooner. I am worried about what will become of Mr. Malfoy."