A/N - so I noticed that I hadn't kept well to the timeframe particularly well. To clear things up - Hermione is brought to the hospital wing on Wednesday, and is released on Saturday morning. She is looked after by Minerva until Sunday afternoon, and the potions lesson/occlumency lesson takes place on the Monday. She has potions on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.
"So how was your detention with Snape?" Ginny immediately accosted her when she entered the common room. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'd take a ghost over Professor Snape anyday," Neville put in. "He is terrifying."
"He's not that bad, guys," Hermione sighed tiredly. "It was just quite tiring is all."
"What did he have you doing?" the redhead asked.
"Just writing, mostly. We also talked a bit about the potions I made with Draco."
Ginny snorted. "I still can't believe you worked with the ferret."
"Professor Snape paired us together, Gin."
"I know… but it's still weird, you know? It's Malfoy."
"He actually makes a pretty good lab partner." Hermione flopped onto an empty sofa, her friends quickly joining her in front of the fire. "He's got some good ideas."
"Maybe that's why he paired you two together," Neville mused. "He's probably going to try and get you two to work on a research project together."
Ginny pretended to gag. "Ewwwww, no thanks! Imagine working with both Snape and Malfoy. Out of class, no less!"
Hermione frowned. "I don't think it would be a bad thing. I do enjoy potions."
"You must literally be the only Gryffindor to ever say that, Mione."
"She's right. Extra time with Professor Snape, on top of normal time with him?" Neville shuddered. "No thanks."
Hermione shrugged. "It's not like he's actually suggested a project, anyway. I don't think he's ever taken on a project with a student before, so it's not a concern."
Ginny pulled open a textbook that had been placed on the armrest. "Okay. In that case, you can both help me with charms. I'm all over the place."
Two two older students moved closer to peer at her textbook.
"Age lines?" Hermione asked. "I don't remember us learning that."
"We didn't," Neville confirmed. "Flitwick has always had us using spells that are practical in day to day life."
"Professor Flitwick, Nev," Hermione corrected absentmindedly. "Maybe he thinks that it will be practical?"
He blushed and shrugged. "I don't understand what for."
Hermione frowned. "Are you creating them to only allow people in above a certain age?"
"Nope. To only allow people in below a certain age."
"Ah. Then that'll be why."
The other two shared a look. "Want to explain that, Mione?" Ginny asked.
"Well, if it is to keep people above a certain age out, then it can be used to only hold people in who are below the age of seventeen. It means that if a safe space is created, then no one of age will be able to enter. It would be able to keep anyone below the age of majority safe."
Her friends lit up. "That's genius!" the redhead grinned. "Tough luck to you two, but this is really useful."
Hermione frowned. "Doesn't explain why 7th years aren't being taught it, though."
"It makes sense though, doesn't it?" Neville coughed and flushed. "I mean, seventh years are old enough to take part fighting in anything that happens. Plus, with age magic, isn't it best if it's cast by someone that it would be attuned to?"
"Yes, Neville! It'll be more powerful if cast by someone who actually is the right age to be behind it!"
Excitement ricocheted between them, wide smiles lighting up their faces. "So how do you want us to help you, Gin?"
"Well, I can't cast one."
"Have you been practicing?" Neville asked. "It's got to be difficult to cast with so many people around. And most the people here wouldn't be affected by it anyway."
His friend smirked. "That's where you two come in. If I can cast it to keep you two out, then that would be a definite success. Come with me."
Neville and Hermione followed as Ginny jumped to her feet, grabbing only her wand and textbook and leading them out of the portrait hole.
"Ginny…" Neville croaked. "Should we really be out of the common room now?"
"No, you should not." A silky voice spoke from the shadows. "10 points from Gryffindor. Each."
"I'm sorry, Professor Snape," Hermione said sincerely. "We didn't realise it was after curfew."
"It isn't," the teacher scowled. "But that doesn't mean that you should be out of your common room. And after the detention that you've just had, Miss Granger… it seems that it may take a little more to Hammer. This. Home. You've earned yourself another detention. Thursday."
He swept off, and the Gryffindors headed back inside the tower.
"Blimey, Mione!" Neville stammered. "I'm sorry you've got another detention, I knew we shouldn't be going out there, and-"
"Hush, Nev. It isn't your fault." Hermione soothed him. "He's probably just in a bad mood from spending his evening with one of his idiotic students."
The boy laughed slightly. "But now you've got to spend more time with him…"
"And I don't really mind." Neville gave her a confused look, but Ginny smirked and patted her on the back.
"Better him than the Carrows, any day. We haven't been able to spend much time with you, though. We went to the hospital wing on Saturday and Sunday…"
At which point Hermione remembered that she had Dark Arts the next day, and excused herself to get some sleep, ignoring the look Ginny sent her way.
In truth, she had spent the weekend in the care of Professor McGonagall. The moment that Poppy had, under Dumbledore's complaints, released Hermione up to Gryffindor tower, she had been snapped up by her head of house, who kept a close eye on her during her stay during the day and Saturday night. Madam Pomfrey, clearly aware, had provided Minerva with some potions 'just in case' and the older woman had provided Hermione with persistent cooling charms and damp flannels as she burned up and sweated out. Finally, on Sunday afternoon she'd been brought back to the hospital wing, having one more check over by the mediwitch before she'd headed off on her library excursion, only to be caught by Dumbledore and his need to be omnipotent.
The day she'd just had, the Monday, had seemed to last a week in comparison to the way time had passed during her recovery. Tuesday morning she woke covered in sweat for another reason, her scalp burning and throat sore from the nightmares that had resurfaced in such full force that it knocked her to her knees. The journal next to her was crumpled, ripped in places where she'd written her entry into it before bed.
This is the journal of Hermione Jean Granger. Following today's session with Professor Snape, I have determined that his suggestion was correct - I shall write about what has happened to me in an effort to understand it better and to aid in my studies of occlumency. Upon my next visit to Hogsmead, I shall search out books on the following:
Occlumency
Legilimency
'Wise mind'?
Meditation
Recovery from trauma
Note to self: do not look for these books in the library; don't lead people to ask questions.
Notes from today's session: I am still feeling fragile, vulnerable. The feelings brought to the surface today are the most painful, sickening things I've ever experienced, but at Professor Snape's suggestion, I shall not hide them away. Instead, I shall allow myself to feel them, to suffer. I deserve to suffer, to stop elevating myself above the events. I can find out what I did wrong. I can teach myself to do better…
She frowned as she read the words that she had written. Did she mean that? Did she believe that she needed to do better, to atone for what had happened? How did she know what was right?
You know, Hermione. You know that Harry wouldn't do such a thing without it being your fault. Harry is a hero, you've seen all of the good that he has done. Stop kidding yourself.
A quick flick of her wand told her the time, 5am. It was becoming a habit for her, and she was much too afraid to return to slumber. The flashbacks were bad enough, but the dreams. The dreams were her own personal form of masochism.
She dressed for the day and disillusioned herself for the journey to her rooms. She didn't come across anyone, but her skin prickled with the reminder from her Potions Professor the night before, as well as the odd conversation she had had with Draco Malfoy. It wasn't safe for her to be wandering the halls alone, and as many precautions as she could take the better.
Finally she reached the door to her chambers and reached for the handle with her left hand, as she'd been instructed to before. She pointed her wand, and gave her newest password - she had changed it upon her re-entry to the rooms.
Refuge.
The door opened near silently, and she closed it behind her with a small click, flicking the fire alight wordlessly, and lighting the candles around the room. The fireplace was already prepared, with spare wood in a large bin beside it, likely placed there by Spiffy.
She called the elf to her, and apologised for the time of day.
"That's quite alright, Missy Granger!" he chirped cheerfully. "Us elves are always up by 5:30 - we prepare breakfast for 7am, so that there is food ready. Some of the Professors are also early risers."
The disillusionment was certainly a good idea then.
"How can I help you, Missy?"
She smiled at the small elf. "Could I have a pot of tea and some toast please, Spiffy? And, if you could, some lavender oil or candles or such?"
He blinked. "Breakfast and something lavender scented, coming right up!"
He vanished with a pop, and when he returned a moment later, Hermione was already seated at her desk, quill in hand.
"Thank you Spiffy. I hope you have a lovely day."
The elf blushed. "You too, Missy Granger. Please call me if you need anything else."
'Pop!'
She grabbed the old text, as well as the book of translation spells, and settled onto the sofa with her breakfast. The lavender came in the form of an oil diffuser, which she placed by the slightly open window to waft around the living area.
The first three quarters of the book were incredibly unhelpful, focusing on translation to other modern languages, but the final chapters proved promising, holding information pertaining to many ancient languages, including Greek, Hebrew, Persian, Sanskrit, Tamil, Latin and various indigenous languages that had long since become extinct. Finally, a chapter on various stages in the evolution of English.
Anglisc.
'Beswâpan linguam'. She frowned, recognising 'linguam' as 'language'. Knowing some parts of languages from readings and education, she could deduce the latin part easily. She cast the usual charm onto her quill and wrote out the first word.
'Comprehend'.
Okay. So 'understand the language'. She frowned. That did not seem remotely specific to Anglisc, in fact the only link was the word 'beswâpan'. The wand movements were different for each intention - reading, writing, listening, speaking. She focused on the wand movements for reading, and then used a regular quill to copy a small passage onto a blank piece of parchment to practice on.
"Beswâpan linguam," she tried, flourishing her wand from her temple to the text in front of her, tapping it lightly with her wand tip. Nothing happened.
"Beswâpan linguam." Nothing. She sighed. It was a complex spell, and she couldn't expect to grasp it immediately. Nethertheless, after a good fifty additional attempts, she was fuming and almost shouting the words, jabbing the parchment furiously until she was interrupted by a knock on her door.
She hurried to answer it, expecting it to be the Headmaster, and was instead surprised to see a dour, disgruntled Professor Snape who entered without permission.
"You're doing it wrong."
"I'm sorry. I thought the rooms in this corridor were soundproofed."
"They are. Unfortunately, it would seem that we both prefer to keep a window open."
She flushed. "I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to wake you."
He shot her a look. "If I weren't already awake, you would be having a much. Worse. Visit. From me this morning, Miss Granger. As it is, you merely interrupted my first coffee of the day, which is a crime in and of itself."
"Would you like some coffee now?" she asked, mentally berating herself for speaking to her teacher with such familiarity. She was shocked when he inclined his head.
"If you're going to continue shouting in such a manner, I would think that wise."
10 minutes later, they had both sipped at the coffee Spiffy brought them, and Hermione was showing her frustration at the text.
"It doesn't even seem specific to Anglisc!" she complained. "Look at the wording of it!"
"Since when does the phrasing of a spell make up for the intent?" he asked her. "Do you honestly believe all of the dunderheads in your classes understand the roots of the incantations that they use?"
She scowled. "But they are specific! They describe accurately the purpose of the spell!"
"And a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. You're completely missing the point of the words that accompany a spell."
"But wandless magic isn't even taught until sixth year!" she snapped. "And it can only be used for spells that have already been mastered!"
"Do you honestly believe that simply words and wand movements make up the body of a spell? Do you believe that anyone could see only the name and movement of a spell and be able to cast it without demonstration?"
"It's worked for me before! I always practice ahead of classes, so that I'm prepared, and-"
"And the textbook always tells you what the spell is intended for, and the mechanisms and uses of it." He scowled into his mug. "Why do you choose this early in the morning to show your stupidity?"
"I am not stupid," she hissed. "And I know what I'm trying to do - I'm trying to translate this parchment."
He frowned at the paper. "You're trying to translate something that you have written yourself? Do you make a habit of writing things down that you don't understand?"
"I understand this passage," she replied, calming slightly. "I'm simply using it to practice the spell before I use it to translate a whole book."
"What should happen when you cast the spell, Miss Granger?"
"It should translate the text, Professor."
"What are you thinking while you cast?"
"I'm focusing on the parchment showing the correct words instead."
He nodded. "Is that all that you've tried?"
"If you have any other suggestions, then be my guest."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Try casting it with your eyes shut, focusing on understanding rather than seeing the parchment change contents. Without shouting, if you don't mind - I'd rather not go into first year potions with a migraine."
On the fifth attempt, when her discomfort and having her eyes closed around the man waned, she succeeded, and cheered happily. "Yes! Do you see this, Professor?"
"No, Miss Granger, and that is the point. Translation spells do not alter the original text, simply allow you to comprehend the text as it is."
"That's brilliant!"
"Indeed," he cocked an eyebrow. "And now if I may continue my morning without the grating sound of your voice…"
"Sir?"
He scowled.
"Why are you so different outside of class?" she flushed. "I just mean, I mean, you're a very good teacher, and-"
"Miss Granger," he cut in. "I like teaching those who actually want to learn. Therefore children, particularly dunderheads, irritate me."
He swept out, leaving a smirk on the young woman's face as she applied her newly found spell to the ancient book.