Hearing the quickly fading, ghostly echoes of the Potions Master's feet die away with each purposeful step, Hermione Granger inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if all the world's weight were now contained within her tiny chest cavity.
She slowly picked up her head, relieving it from the sweaty palm of her hand, and closed her eyes. Shutting them tightly, and pausing to scratch a pesky itch above her right eyebrow, Hermione slowly reopened her eyes.
She took a brief moment to survey the area, and was utterly stunned at what she saw.
Shards of glass and strewn cotton-balls littered the floor only feet away from where she was seated. The doors, or what could be made of doors to the infirmary were severely misaligned, and Hermione noted scattered pieces of cracked and splintered wood located in and around the entrance to the now empty hospital wing.
It took a few moments to assess the apparent damage, when suddenly Hermione had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She remembered how angry, how absolutely furious she was for being brought back to Hogwarts. How she became livid at the sight of the four individuals that had stood before her. How she was never, ever supposed to see this place, or these people again. And then Hermione remembered yelling, screaming at them, and losing all control of her emotions.
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat.
She had done this. She had caused this mess in the hospital wing. The wood, the glass…it was her…
And most frightening of all, was that the young woman had no idea how or why she was able to do what damage she had done.
Hermione was disgusted with herself. That much was certain. She bit the inside of her cheek in frustration, as a million thoughts battled with each other in her mind.
Fed up with her actions, she placed her gaze towards the head of the bed, away from the mess she had created.
A rather wobbly-looking wooden chair sat next to the bed; neatly placed on it were a pair of dark blue jeans, a faded plain black t-shirt, a soft gray cardigan, and a pair of worn out navy trainers, with a pair of socks carefully stuffed in each one. Gathering that the clothes were meant for her (obviously she would not be staying in these pajamas all day, though she would not have minded…)Hermione sighed inwardly, and eased up off of the bed.
With her mouth forming a tight line she slowly undressed and redressed, placing each article of clothing on as carefully as she could, tying each shoe so tightly, so perfectly, that she would not be surprised if her feet lost all circulation. She stood with her back straight, head aligned with her body, and stood perfectly still.
The only thing that separated her from the entire rest of the castle was but twelve steps or so. Not nearly enough for Hermione's taste. Still, she willed herself to begin moving, and she felt her feet walk one by one, so very cautiously over the glass and wooden remnants, the crunching and crackling unmistakable under each well-placed step.
Before she knew it, Hermione had arrived just outside the entrance to the infirmary and was faced with a rather large soft-colored marblestaircase. She blinked once, and took a moment to slowly tilt her head up, noting the various creaks and groans of the other well-sized staircases that moved slowly and heavily, swinging slowly from one floor to another with such precision. Hermione sighed, and closed her eyes, shaking her head from side-to-side in the process.
The young woman began to walk down the staircase before her, her shoes making small muffled thuds on each passing step. The pictures and portraits lining the grand staircase were watching her, some with gigantic smiles, others with look of utter confusion. Scattered whispers could be heard echoing about the area, and Hermione suddenly crossed her arms about herself, feeling ever the slightest bit more defensive amidst the quiet chatter. A few portraits would express their happiness with jolly salutations, pleased to see a most welcomed alumna of the school return. In return, Hermione gave tight, small smiles and gentle nods, saying nothing to the portraits surrounding her, as she maintained her focus on making her way to the dungeons to meet with her old Potion's Professor.
Hermione's feet finally hit the solid ground of the first floor of the Castle, and suddenly the young woman stopped in her tacks. Her eyes focused on a massive room to the left of her, and turning her head to meet her peripheral gaze, Hermione inadvertently paused to take a peek at the Great Hall – a room she had once remembered oh so well…
After all these years, it still looked the same. The vast ceiling, wide piercing windows, unlit dark fireplaces, and worn wooden benches and tables, were all too familiar…
Hermione sighed, as nostalgia washed over her. With no students or staff inside the Hall, it looked empty. Too empty. Hermione scrunched up her nose. For a moment, for the briefest moment, she pictured the three of them sitting, talking, eating, working at these tables. How she had loved to sit at the bench, staring up into the bewitched ceiling. Silently, she snickered to herself. She felt like a fool. A fool for being once so happy…
Hermione turned to her right and continued down the steps, softly stepping down each step as she made her way further down into the depths of the castle. She felt coolness begin to surround her, breathed in the semi-damp and musty atmosphere that was the beginning of the dungeons, and subconsciously rubbed her arms with her hands as she felt the prickle of goose bumps arise on her skin. The hallway was dark, lit with torches here and there; their flames casting silent dancing shadows on the cracked and barren walls.
Alas, the young woman eventually found herself directly in front of the Potions Master's classoom. Severus Snape was correct – Hermione remembered exactly where she was going; though her mind wandered for the duration of the entire trip, her feet knew just where to lead her.
Hermione bit her bottom lip. She stood looking at the shabby wooden door for a few moments, listening to her breathing, before gaining the courage to make her presence known. Hermione extended a slender arm upwards, her sweater showing just the slightest bit of skin, and softly knocked three times. A few seconds lapsed after the knocking, the sound echoing off the walls of the dungeon.
Suddenly, Hermione heard from the other side of the door, a distinct voice utter only a single command:
…Enter…
His voice sent chills down her spine. Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. Her initial emotion was one of fear, of nervousness. But that wave quickly passed into one of annoyance. She was ready to get this so-called meeting over and done with, so that, in her mind, she could leave the castle. However that may be…
Grasping the handle tightly and with a heavy push, the young woman opened the door to the Potions classroom, hearing the hinges groan in response. She closed the door behind her, and took a moment to inhale the scents of the dungeon. Burnt wood, nutmeg, leather; all types of scents flooded Hermione's nasal passage, and gave way to flashes of memories. Memories of long ago, when she herself was a student in this very room.
Hermione glanced around the empty room, her chocolate-brown eyes darting back and forth. After scanning the entire area: empty work stations, filled-herb jars, stacks of medium-sized kettles, Hermione came to a sudden conclusion: Severus Snape was evidently not in this room. However, the young woman noticed that the door adjacent to the classroom was indeed wide open, signaling that there was a good chance that the Professor was in his office.
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, as she slowly approached the other side of the classroom. Taking one careful step after another, the young woman suddenly found herself at the entrance to the Potions Master's office, and raised her eyes upward to focus on the tall figure standing only feet away from her.
Severus Snape had his back towards Hermione. He was standing ever still, dressed in all black with his arms crossed, staring at a row of about twenty or so dust-covered empty bottles lined neatly on a rickety shelf in back of his desk. Two dark wooden chairs were positioned directly in front of his desk; a desk that was relatively empty, except for a gray-colored quill, two steaming cups of liquid in dark gray tea cups, and a worn-looking wooden wand lying between those cups.
Hermione frowned and swallowed, her mouth dry as cotton. It was her wand on the table…
The young woman took it upon herself to sit in one of the chairs in front of Snape's desk. She sat down slowly, perched on the edge of her seat as it made a slight creaking noise, and folded her hands neatly in her lap, chewing the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood, her saliva now having a slight iron-like taste to it.
'Peppermint,' called Severus' voice ever so quietly, his back still facing her, '-it is peppermint tea…' he added, as if answering one of many questions already brewing in Hermione's mind.
The young woman quietly cleared her throat.
'Oh…thank you,' Hermione said quietly, dare not reaching for the cup of liquid in front of her, but instead staying ever still, evidently expecting the unexpected. She remained defensive, yet utterly alert. Should anything…happen, she wanted to be able to defend herself, to run, to escape.
Severus sighed and closed his eyes. Opening them, he turned around slowly, taking a seat at his desk across from Hermione. He too was perched on the edge of his seat, and avoided her eyes that stared at him from across the desk. With a blind yet careful hand, he slowly and ever so discretely felt for an object in his right hand pocket, making sure his wand was still safely tucked away. It's not that he didn't trust the young woman in front of him; he just wanted to be prepared, in case any situations like the one upstairs occurred…
Severus suddenly met the eyes of the woman seated in front of him.
'Your wand...,' he gestured quietly, eyebrows slightly raised, nodding with his head towards the still object while taking a brief moment for himself to look at the intact piece of wood before him.
'I know…,' Hermione added softly yet definitively, not knowing exactly what to say in response. She did not want it. Did not want any of this. She wished she would have never touched the damn thing in the first place, and yet here it was. Staring her right in the face, as if mocking her.
'You can hold on to it for…for awhile, if you'd like…' the young woman stammered quietly, looking at her hands in her lap, hoping in all hopes that the Potions Master would take the piece of wood and bury it deep in the ground somewhere. Out of sight, out of mind…
Severus raised an eyebrow.
'You do not want it?'' inquired the Potions Master, looking suspiciously at the woman before him.
Hermione looked at the wand, as if speaking to the inanimate object in a direct manner.
'It's not…it's not that I don't want it…well, perhaps that is true, but…but more importantly, I…I don't believe…I do not trust myself with it…' Hermione said in a now gentle tone, trying as best she could to hide the worry and apprehension in her voice.
Severus' mouth formed a tight line.
'That is a wise thing to say, Miss Granger. However…you can…and will learn to use your wand again. There is no question. You will learn how to control your magic…not let it control you…,' Severus added in a most serious tone, looking at Hermione.
'Yes, but-,' Hermione interrupted, looking directly into Severus' dark eyes. She smirked, scuffing at his last statement '-but if I can't even control myself, I mean…well you saw what happened up there…I can't…clearly, I just can't do it!…' the young woman said in a frustrated tone.
Hermione began to peel away at a cuticle on her thumb, and moments later looked down to see a small droplet of semi-dried blood that had formed beside her nail bed. Evidently she had been subconsciously peeling away at her nail so vigorously, that she was unaware it had begun to bleed.
'I don't even know if I want to do it…' she added softly, letting her pain skim the surface of her emotions, still keeping watch on her thumb as her eyes began to prickle with salty tears; tears that would, evidently, not be shed. Her jaw clenched as she reminded herself to keep on the defense, willing herself to stay alert in case a swift exit was necessary.
Severus blinked slowly, focusing ever intently on his former student. He inhaled deeply, and stood up from his seat in a fluid motion. Severus slowly walked around his desk towards Hermione, his feet making audible echoes within the walls of his office. Pausing to look down at the girl, he slowly sat down in the wooden chair next to Hermione, angling himself so he was only feet away from her. He reminded himself to choose his words wisely. If he wanted her to stay, he had to be oh so careful. Though she could pose a possible threat to all that surrounded her, she would prove to be most useful- that he was certain. And he was more that willing to do anything he could, to make her want to stay in the castle…
'What if, Miss Granger…' Severus spoke in an almost inaudible tone, '-Hermione,' he called, willing the young woman to look up at him, the slightest hint of tears welling in her eyes as he tried desperately to read the hardened look upon her face.
'What if I were to make a promise to you…a promise that I would do my best to help you…to help you control, to understand…will you accept?' Severus asked in a most composed voice, his words flooding her mind as Hermione struggled with her thoughts, not knowing what to do or say next.
Hermione looked at Severus with a stone-like expression on her face.
'I…I don't know if I can…I told you that,' she whispered, her eyebrows creased, showing forth the suffering and frustration upon her face.
Severus took a moment to regard her reply.
'Please…' he begged quietly. 'If in time, it does not work, then you are free to leave and do as you wish. But for now…for the time being, will you…promise to attempt what you have feared…?' he asked, pausing to shift his eyes downward at the small spot of blood on Hermione's thumb.
The young woman followed his gaze, now too peering down once again at the blood stained finger.
A minute of silence before Hermione stated her well- thought-out reply.
'If…,' Hermione began, willing her words to come through her thick voice, '-if it does not…work, then I leave. No one is to follow me. Or check up on me. You are to let me be-' she added in a defiant tone, now looking up into Severus' eyes:
'Especially you,' she added, her words stinging as she looked directly into the eyes of the man across from her.
Severus' mouth formed a tight line, and he nodded solemnly, a silent acknowledgement to her most recent statement.
'If that is what you wish, then it shall be honored,' the Potions Master added in an equally defiant tone.
Moments passed between the two, when all of a sudden, Hermione snorted. Laughing sarcastically, and taking a hand to rub one of her tired eyes, she looked up at the baffled expression on Severus' face.
'Do you really think I'm that hopeless? Do…you think it...that I'm beyond help? That maybe, just maybe this was all truly a mistake – you bringing me…bringing me back, here…' she firmly stated, looking at Severus.
Hermione could not be further from the truth…
The Potions Master scowled slightly, angered at her words. How…dare she render herself useless. If only she knew how much she was valued. How much she mattered…
Severus' eyes narrowed.
'You are not hopeless. This was not a mistake. This is where you ought to be, Hermione,' he said quietly. 'I am not here to make you forget the past…I am here to help you continue your life, wherever that may take you…' he added, a touch of undetectable sadness in his voice. While he did promise his help in return for her safety, he was, even in the slightest bit, concerned that this was not going to work. As stubborn as he was, Severus Snape would not utter the words that were ready to slip off of his tongue at any moment; the words that ached in his heart, yet he would not utter:
Severus was desperately afraid of losing her…
Suddenly, a pair of emerald eyes poked through the fireplace, followed by a messy tuft of hair, a pair of uneven spectacles, and one quite unmistakable scar.
'Erm…' Harry interrupted, not knowing quite what to make of the site before him. 'We, ugh…we just wanted to know if you were still coming up to the –'
Severus quickly turned his head to look at the green-glowing fireplace.
'We shall be up there within moments, Potter,' Severus sneered, obviously displeased at Harry's interruption, as he scowled with an automatic distaste into the fireplace at the Boy Who Lived.
'Erm…right…well, we are all waiting,' Harry added, an equal look of disproval as he stared at Severus. The two looked at each other for several moments before Harry disappeared, and the room was still once again.
Severus stood up and extended a warm hand to Hermione. Instinctively, she shrank back, clenching her fingers into fists. She was not eager to be confronted by so many people – those apparently now waiting for her somewhere in the castle.
As if sensing her apprehension, Severus spoke calmly to her.
'I'm not going to hurt you. They aren't going to hurt you. Besides, I think at this point they are more afraid of you, than you are of them,' he added as an afterthought, with just a touch of humor, smirking slightly at the young woman.
Hermione frowned, looking at the man standing in front of her. She reluctantly took hold of his hand, and he led her to the fireplace on the far side of his desk. Her had was ice cold, Severus noted. If only she wasn't so stubborn – she should have had a few sips of the tea, he thought to himself. Without a single word, and with hands still clasped, Hermione heard the words, 'Headmisstress' Quarters' bellowed, as Severus grabbed a handful of floo powder. The two disappeared from the office within an instant.
A second later, the pair stood within the frame of the fireplace located in Headmistress Minerva McGonagle's office. Hermione was surprised to note that her hand previously held by the Potion's Master was now free, and dangled loosely by her side. Even more surprising was the room within which she was standing.
Sweet smelling, bright colored flowers decorated the room, bright balloons hung here and there, and perhaps most surprising was a huge banner hung over Professor McGonagle's desk. In large golden letters, it read a simple beautifully scripted sentence that held a world of truth:
'Welcome Home, Hermione!'
Hermione gulped, her eyes growing large as she willed her rapid-beating heart to calm down. Eyes stared at here, waiting for the young woman to say something. Anything. Hermione was, evidently speechless.
This is not, what she expected. Not at all….