Severus Snape walked swiftly through the hallways of Saint Mungos, intent on making a quick and effortless exit. His mind was cluttered with various details and possible scenarios, all of which he begged his mind not to pay any attention to. But alas, the thoughts festered inside his mind, and failed to leave him.
To be quite honest, he was unsure why he had approached Hermione Granger. Unsure why he was most keen on having her return to Hogwarts. And most of all, why he felt as though her presence at the old school would leave her most protected, and out of harms way. It was perhaps the third option that left the Potions Professor most uncertain. He felt a need to protect the young woman; a need to make her safe, to make certain that he would do everything in his power to guarantee her safety. Why, he did not know. Perhaps it was, as they say, 'for the greater good' of it all. Yes, that was it, he told himself. It had to be that:
….For the greater good…
As he continued to walk, paying no mind to wandering eyes that caught a glimpse of the tall figure in black, he thought for the slightest second that Hermione was a fool for even listening to him, and to them. If it were him, he thought, he wouldn't have been as reluctant to even entertain the thought of reentering a world in which had caused so much heartache.
Severus sighed. He had secretly hoped that the girl would come to her senses, and take the offer that he had laid before her. But something, just something about her today did not seem…balanced. The look she gave him when they were sitting in her kitchen nights ago: that look of hopelessness, the instance when she allowed him to view her thoughts, her memories, all of that seemed to have veiled her once again. And to be honest, it did not give Severus a very good feeling. Not in the least.
How he wished he could tell her how much people missed her; how he had caught Molly Weasley sobbing by the fire at Headquarters on more than one occasion, holding a picture of the young woman in her hands. How even Potter himself had changed, no longer as happy-go-lucky without Granger around. Everyone had been affected by her silence, by her unwillingness to stay. If only she knew…if only she knew…
Hermione slept silently, peacefully in her quasi-comfortable chair in the lounge. She dreamt of nothing, a blank canvas upon which not a single thought was placed, and continued to slumber in the tiny room.
All of a sudden, the door to the lounge opened and banged on the opposite wall with a loud 'thud.'
'Hey!' exclaimed a young man standing in the doorframe, a small bouquet of lilies in his one hand. His lightning shaped scar peeked through the tufts of dark brown hair askew on his head.
Hermione's eyes sprung open. She yelped, and instantly fell off of her chair onto the cool floor below, startled by his presence.
Harry frowned.
'Oh, Mione…I didn't think…oh here, let me help-' he said in an apologetic tone, rushing over to help out the poor young woman lying on the floor.
Hermione struggled to get up. She met Harry face to face while still on the ground. Offering one arm to stand her up, the other trying to scoop her up about her waist into a standing position, he managed to help her and still maintain the integrity of the flowers.
'Oh Harry…oh I'm alright,' she muttered, trying to regain her balance while attempting to stand.
Harry kept his arm around her.
'Sorry to have frightened you, Mione. Snape didn't mention that you were asleep when I saw him down the hall,' Harry mentioned quietly, taking a free hand and adjusting the spectacles upon his face.
Hermione looked at Harry with a confused expression.
'Oh, he left…right…,' she said, looking around the room now void of her old Potions Professor's presence. She gathered that the liquid he had given her to drink knocked her out. She looked at the chair next to her, and saw that there was just the tiniest bit of the ruby-colored fluid left in the vial sitting on the small wooden table.
Harry took a moment to clear his throat. Releasing his hold from Hermione, he looked down at the bouquet, and then offered it to her.
'Here,' he said, a wide and goofy grin upon his face. 'Got these for you. Though I'm sure they pail in comparison to what everyone else had gotten you,' he said a bit sheepishly.
Hermione looked at the flowers. With a small smile hiding the sadness in her eyes, she took the flowers in her hand. Pausing to smell them, inhaling their sweet and awfully recognizable fragrance, she closed her eyes, and then looked up at Harry.
'You don't happen to know who sent the singing daisies, do you?' she questioned, her eyebrows slightly raised.
Harry laughed, and ran a hand through his hair.
'Oh, that would be a gift from Fred. And George. Both of whom whish you a speedy recovery…in their own little way, of course,' he added, a grin upon his face.
Hermione nodded and offered a small chuckle.
'I see,' she commented, pausing to look at the flowers once again.
Lillies, she thought to herself. If only Harry knew how many of them adorned her home after Ron had passed away…Her face grew dark, and she closed her eyes.
Harry's face grew solemn.
'Hermione,' he said, '-I wanted to ask you something. Well, it's about your job, you see. I know that you are probably…unhappy where you're at…well I don't know that entirely, but I wanted to let you know that with all the Quidditch injuries and such at school, Madame Pomfrey is in need of an assistant and, well, I just thought-'
Hermione held up a stiff hand to silence him.
'Harry, Snape already asked me,' she said in a defiant voice. Hermione reached up to scratch the back of her head, and scrunched up her eyes. She shook her head slowly, and chuckled softly to herself before sitting down gently in the same chair she had fell asleep on. It was still warm.
Harry took a moment to regard the woman in front of him, slightly befuddled by her reaction, and then brought forth a chair from one of the adjacent tables. Placing the wooden chair in front of Hermione, he sat down in front of her and looked at the young woman. He paused a moment before gently placing his hands upon hers.
'Mione,' he began in a voice only above a whisper, '-we really do miss you. Honest. And don't think of this as a form of pity, or…or whatever you may think. Because it's not true. We…I'm so tired of seeing you so miserable…so unhappy…' he added, looking down into his lap.
Hermione's brow creased, and she quickly withdrew her clasped hands from Harry. Her chest tightened at the sound of his words, and for a brief moment, a veil of anger washed over her.
'What makes you think that I'm miserable?! That I do not enjoy what I do?!' she asked in a defensive tone, her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. Hermione suddenly got up, and strode to the opposite side of the room away from Harry.
'YOU were the ones that bothered me. YOU were the ones that…that call me miserable, unhappy. Well…well where have you been all these god damn years?! Why now do you suddenly give a fuck what has happened to me?! ' She yelled, irritated with not only Harry, but herself as well.
Harry watched Hermione walk away from him. He got up, and turned towards her. He gave a frustrated sigh, and looked down at the ground.
'Mione,' he said softly, '-who are you kidding? Really? Just please…just put down those walls for a second,' he added, beginning to walk slowly towards her. Hermione continued to keep her back towards her old friend.
Harry continued speaking to her.
'I know, Mione…I've seen…I've seen you..the nights you came home and sobbed for hours on your couch. The times that you've sat at your kitchen table, eating supper alone. Those times, Mione…does…does it make you happy? Because I know you. Despite what you may think, or believe, or may not want to acknowledge…I know you. And I miss you…And I cant'…won't stand for it anymore. So just please…please consider what Snape offered…'
Harry's voice trailed off, as he found himself only a foot away from the woman in front of him.
Hermione's eyes stung with tears.
'You know nothing about me…' she uttered softly, staring straight ahead.
She was stubborn, much too stubborn to acknowledge to anyone that she truly hated what she had become. What she had let herself become. She was tired…so damn tired of being unhappy. And why should she continue to live her life this way? Didn't she, of all people, deserve a little happiness in her life…?
The past few days had proved to be a whirlwind for the young woman. She had vowed to move on, to forget as much pain and suffering from the past as she could. And as of late, that vow was broken. For Hermione was reminded of her past every single god damn minute since she was first approached by those two men. Ever since they found her that night on the bridge by the river, she was condemned to remembering her old life…a life she desperately wanted to forget…
Hermione continued looking straight ahead, a blank look upon her face.
…And suddenly, something inside her snapped. A thought hit her; a single gut wrenching thought that perhaps confirmed that she was truly selfish, truly miserable, and truly beyond hope…
…It all began by the river.
…And it will all end by the river…
Hermione walked slowly to the far side of the room, standing directly in front of an oil painting, bewitched by magic of course. It was of a young woman, neatly dressed, sitting and reading to a little boy who sat on her lap. Her son, perhaps. They looked happy, content, peaceful. And Hermione was envious beyond comparison viewing the lively painting, the smiles that adorned both figures. It was a painful reminder that she had lost loved ones, so dear to her heart, leaving her permanently broken.
Hermione longed for peace, for happiness. She was tired of fighting. Tired of people (most often as of late) telling her what she should and should not be doing. She felt as though they were using her – using her to fulfill a prophecy for which she held no concern. It made her angry, to be used. Angry to feel like a pawn in their game.
It was selfish, she admitted; so selfish of her to feel this way. But what other choice did she have?
The young woman put a hand up to her mouth and slowly closed her eyes. Opening them once more, and with one final look at the painting, Hermione turned around to face harry. Her eyes were dark, empty, a blank look upon her face as she looked at him in silence.
Suddenly the door to the lounge flew open, and her primary physician at Saint Mungos, Dr. Philips poked his head in.
'Oh there you are, my dear! Been looking for you for a while now! Well, looks like you are free to go my dear, whenever you're ready,' he added, a goofy grin upon his face as he continued to peek inside the doorframe. With a nod towards the pair, he left as soon as he arrived.
Harry turned his head to look at Dr. Philips as he left closing the door behind him with a resounding bang, and then slowly turned back to look at Hermione. With a soft grin on his face, he spoke softly to her:
'So, Mione –what'll it be? We…I can take you…I can take you to Headquarters, if you wanted to,' he said quietly to her, barely above a whisper. 'I can…I can take you home, Mione…where you belong…' he added, hope blinding his green eyes that sparkled with just the slightest excitement.
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. Her heart ached. She had no home. But there was something, one thing that she needed to do. She needed to see the one thing that was connected to her, even in the most non-familial way. The one thing that mattered most…for now:
Hermione wanted to see Crookshanks.
…She wanted to say a proper goodbye to him.
With tears beginning to well in her eyes, Hermione spoke directly to Harry, without even the slightest inflection in her voice.
'Harry, please take me to Helen Crawford's home. There's something there that I had…forgotten…'