Descending the last few steps slowly, Hermione scanned the classroom. The cold stone floor, the stools, the tables each with a cauldron beside it; the rectangular blackboard propped up on wooden sticks, and the teacher's desk positioned in front of the classroom. Everything was in good condition and tidily arranged.
She could recall herself circumspectly adding ingredients to the potions, reading instructions carefully off the large blackboard and murmuring advice to a fear-struck Neville fervently.
But she was reminded most of her former Potions Professor; his malicious remarks, unpleasant sneer and his billowing black robes. Everything of this classroom was reminiscent of Severus Snape.
Hermione strolled around the dark classroom. Besides the lamp that was magically hovering on the ceiling and the fireplace (which never burnt before), there was no trace of light. Frowning, she treaded carefully to the teacher's desk and lit the lamp, which gave the room a dim, eerie glow.
She waved her wand the second time. The light flickered and remained unchanged.
"Is it so wrong to get some light?" Hermione fumed.
She chewed on her lower lip, her brain whirring away to find a spell that would light the room preferably. Finally, with a pleased snap of her fingers, she drew her wand and twirled it in a complicated pattern, and with a flourish, the room now had two glass windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor; a metal grille and a curtain was then attached to each window.
"Beautiful, just like a fairy tale," Hermione beamed and leaned back against the table as she watched as the gentle moonlight shone through the windows. The view might be magically created, but it was certainly enchanting and breathtaking.
Hermione whirled around and sauntered behind the teacher's desk. There were two doors, both black in colour. Hermione tried the handle. It didn't move.
"Oh really, Professor Snape didn't have to ward everything, did he?"
Hermione chose the right door, exhaled heavily and pulled out her wand.
"Okay. Alohomora?"
To her utmost surprise, the door clicked open.
Hermione's jaws dropped as she looked around the room. She had found Snape's private labs. There were two cauldrons positioned beside the glass tabletop which stretched three quarters across the laboratory. A wooden shelf about three feet tall leaned against the left wall from where Hermione stood. Each rack on the shelf had about five labeled vials, each filled with a different potion.
Hermione picked one vial up and examined the thick liquid inside. It was a deep dark yellow colour and there were bubbles visible inside the potion. She gasped.
"Merlin's pants! I've read this from Moste Potente Potions; it's the Elixir of Luminosity! How did he obtain the Dragon bones? And the Moonwater!"
And sure enough, when Hermione turned the vial, there was the neat inscription: Elixir of Luminosity, S.S.
This man is so maddeningly amazing, Hermione breathed as she exited the room and securely warded the lab.
She turned to the left door, which was identical to the other with the same black shade and the cold, metal knob.
"Alohomora," Hermione commanded and the door swung open. There was another set of stairs.
Professor Snape certainly adored stairs, Hermione cursed as she started up the first few steps.
A blank wall faced Hermione when she ascended the stairway completely.
Hermione scowled.
She drew her wand and tapped the wall.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, she tapped the wall again and muttered "Revelio".
A door materialised and slid open in front of Hermione's very astonished amber orbs.
This was Severus Snape's chambers.
**********************************************************
Hermione knew, from the very instant, this was where Snape lived, because of the Slytherin green around her.
But she as she entered the room, it then dawned on her why she still remained so alarmed.
Severus Snape didn't strike her as the type who would get a fireplace (except for Floo purposes), a deep blue carpet, a mahogany desktop, a snug and cozy couch the colour of sea blue, nor did Hermione ever imagine the Professor would purchase a blue beanbag chair or a set of old-English dining table with two chairs.
She couldn't help but allow her mouth remain in the shape of an "O" while she gawked at the warm, enthralling atmosphere.
There were two wooden doors located at the back of, Hermione supposed, the living room. She entered the one on her extreme left.
Shelves and shelves of books appeared in front of Hermione, each rack piled with books ranging from dusty, ancient tomes to modernised versions of paperbacks. Hermione was taken aback by the numerous volumes arranged neatly and in impeccable conditions.
Hermione's eyes glazed over. She was certain the Potions Master had shared her unquenched hunger for knowledge.
It took Hermione everything to resist the alluring urge that egged her on in slipping Potent Potions (the spine had recorded) from the shelves and bury her nose in it. The library will wait, she repeated to herself firmly.
With a last, contemplative glance, she exited the room and approached the next one.
Pushing the door open, the sight she was met with sent her jaws dropping for the third time that night. There was a large bed that emitted a soft, alluring look. There was also another shelf (Hermione's eyes sparkled) with three rows all loaded with hardbacks. A nightstand was positioned beside the bed, and a wardrobe with frosted glass sliding doors stood on the left side of the room. There was also a small wooden desktop with a well-cushioned chair and a dresser situated near it.
Her two luggages were placed neatly at the foot of the bed. She unzipped it, expecting to find her belongings scandalously dumped inside. She was wrong. The luggage was empty.
Frowning, she stepped to the wardrobe and slid the glass door open. Her robes and dresses were hung without a single crease. She eyed the racks gleefully as she saw her muggle tops all folded efficiently. She opened one of the drawers attached and found her undergarments assembled according to colours.
Where are my books then? Hermione scanned the bedroom.
A pile of books arranged on the wooden desk answered her question.
Hermione beamed at the empty, furnished room.
This was so much better than her former large suite, where most of her possessions were strewn reprehensibly across the apartment, since Hermione was not a domestic type and loathed cleaning.
"This must be the work of a house-elf," Hermione muttered with certainty. She decided to summon the elf and thank it.
"Er… Hello, house-elf? Could you… come for a moment? I have… something to say to you," Hermione called apprehensively.
A loud crack told Hermione the house-elf was here.
"Miss," the house-elf greeted and bowed, its long nose touching the (Hermione noted with awe) marble floor. "Is there anythings Geri can do for you, miss?"
"No, Geri. I just want to… thank you for unpacking my items."
"No problems, miss. Geri must do that as house-elf, miss. I will serve you pumpkin juice now, miss," the house-elf replied and revealed a toothy smile, his ears wriggling and with another crack, it was gone.
Hermione smiled after Geri.
She studied every part of the room once more, focusing on the bed at last.
The duvet was of a simple silver-green mix, and the bedspread was white. Unadorned and austere.
Very Snape-like, in fact.
She had to defy the maddening temptation to jump onto the soft bed and throw herself lazily onto the pillows.
Hermione stepped out of the bedroom, immensely satisfied.
She scrutinised the entire lodging again.
She still felt stunned. She hadn't been expecting putrid underground caverns, but certainly not posh, pleasing environments.
She was deeply enamored of the fine setting.
And Hermione Granger found she could live with this.
**********************************************************
Hermione stepped out of the bathtub, satiated from the steaming bath. She draped her house robe limply around herself, and sat on the edge of the bed, sipping some sweet grape wine as she poured over Potions for the Poisoned. The pumpkin juice Geri had brought her was not enough to alleviate her dry throat. Sometimes, Hermione was just not the witch who would bother hydrating herself when she was up to something… crucial.
She imbibed half the glass of wine and shook the thin, crimson liquid inside, smirking when she thought of Snape's possible reaction if he found her drinking his wine. Well, he left it in the mantelpiece by the fireplace and there was not one warning that stated I couldn't drink them, Hermione retorted mentally with an impish grin, but faltered when she was reminded of the cruel, chilling truth with a pang.
Severus Snape wouldn't lash out at her. He couldn't even appear.
She decided it was time for slumber when her muggle watch strapped to her wrists told her it was way past midnight.
She'd enjoy the rest of Snape's chambers the next day. After all, her teaching position was secure and she had no intentions of walking out of Hogwarts, though there are many institutions and corporations who were keen to employ her. With binding magical contracts and patents over everything I create, Hermione folded her arms irritably as she recounted the numerous owls that broke in and preened her hair till she gave a reply.
Not to mention the mess of owl droppings I had to clear up later.
With that, Hermione scourgified her wine glass and flicked her wand which sent it soaring back in place. She released the ribbon holding her robe slightly for comfort during her sleep.
Climbing under the covers and wrapping herself tightly with it, she pointed her wand and tilted it slowly. The chandelier lights dimmed before it vanished in a second.
With the accommodating attributes of the bed, steady breathing from an unmoving form of the unconscious Hermione could be heard soon after.
**********************************************************
"Miss Granger," someone purred at her.
Hermione's eyes widened in bewilderment. She would recognize that velvet tone anywhere.
"Professor Snape?" she called and turned guardedly.
Hermione found that she was wearing muggle clothing; an orange shirt, her favourite purple jacket and black jeans.
The place she was stranded in was very sinister and ominous. Not to mention the lack of light. As Hermione's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found that she was in a tunnel like hole, with blackness that occupied the front and back way portentously.
A figure was advancing on her.
She fumbled in her pocket for her dark brown wand.
It wasn't there.
Hermione's brow furrowed as she searched for that stick, then it slowly dawned on her that she had left it on her nightstand.
Is this a dream?
Hermione narrowed her eyes as she searched pointlessly for a source to prove this was a figment of imagination; her brain whirring selflessly through the night.
It was still rigid, total blackness that met her sight.
This isn't good.
"Miss Granger," the voice breathed and when Hermione whirled round, she found herself facing the deceased Potions Master, their face and body inches apart.
Hermione felt something under her belly. She didn't know what, since she was too busy sweeping her eyes over the figure that stood before her.
The very same Potions master.
Her jaws dropped for the umpteenth time.
"How many times, Miss Granger, must I tell you not to gape at others?"
Still that testy personality; it's really him.
Hermione's knees nearly gave in; she flailed her hands out desperately and compromised by staggering a few steps backwards. Snape grabbed her arms just in time.
He smirked.
Hermione glared balefully back.
"Miss Granger, I must say the hundred pounds of books weighing on your sling bag for the six years I taught you failed to improve your sense of balance," he sneered.
"What do you want?" Hermione snapped.
"Dear, dear, Miss Granger. I expect you, to maintain a manner of respect in front of me since I am, after all, your Professor no matter how much condemned. Still that little spitfire…" Snape shook his head in mock resignation.
Before Hermione could retort back, he lowered his silky, irresistible tone.
"Wake up, Miss Granger. You will find me in the portrait hung in my rooms. I have… essential things to tell you."
"But why should I…" Hermione faltered when she started plunging downwards, her limbs and joints firmly locked to place.
Hermione let out a choked shriek as she plummeted drastically and she opened her eyes in shock to find herself tangled in the sheets, a sheen of perspiration forming on her forehead.
She scanned the room warily.
She had most definitely not pictured Snape. He was real, and concrete as anything, for he had touched her.
And this, she suddenly remembered, had brought the most electrifying current on.
It's probably because of his cold temperature in his dead body; he's a living iceberg! Character and temperature-wise, Hermione fumed.
She sat up on the bed.
And what am I supposed to do now?
"Miss Granger."
Hermione gasped, seized her wand instantly and murmured, "Homenum Revelio."
A misty screen flew into the air, and she caught a clear view through the rectangular fog. But there was no one.
Hermione lowered her wand warily, despite her knowing that no concealment can escape this charm.
She was momentarily puzzled, until her mind, somehow, replayed the voice.
Only then did she notice the ostentatious, languid drawl of that greeting.
She froze.
There could only be one person she knew in her whole lifetime who owned that silken, overwhelming voice.
A certain snarky professor who had been taunting her since her first year and never hesitating to deduct a million points from Gryffindor.
She aimed her wand at the chandelier and jerked it slightly. The lights came on.
And that was when she noticed the splendid golden sides framing a picture with a red background.
The clear illustration of Severus Snape filled her sight.
Hermione groaned inwardly.
This is no good, these words darted across her mind playfully and repeatedly. Why hadn't I notice this earlier on?"
"Miss Granger, you might want to tighten the knot of robe you are clad in before you make an unfounded accusation of me callously roaming my eyes over your stark form," Severus Snape raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.
Hermione flushed furiously and wrapped the white house robe over herself and made an over-exaggerated attempt to knot the ribbon located at her chest area forcefully. She broke out in a coughing fit when she tried breathing.
Exasperated, she drew her wand and muttered, "Relashio."
The ribbon released itself and formed a more secure knot when the wand was flicked the second time without choking Hermione.
Hermione coloured up even more intensely now as she reluctantly met the cynical stare of her former Potions Professor.
"If I expected any change from you, Miss Granger, over the past two decades, I would have been miserably disappointed," Snape commented sardonically.
Hermione glowered.
Snape displayed his trademark sneer and continued dryly, "In case your enlarged mind was wondering, Miss Granger, the… dream you had was an illusion, and is most certainly real. I might be dead, Miss Granger, but I have not lost all my magical abilities such as conjuring a vision. However, I am most displeased about things besides being trapped in a portrait."
Here, Snape turned on an extremely skeptical look.
"You know, Miss Granger, better than to overstep my limits. You turned the dungeons into some fairy-tale room with glass windows, Miss Granger, glass windows. You slip a book out of my library and put in on the desk, not bothering to return it back to its original place. On top of that, you have even changed the sheets of my bed, Miss Granger, into red and gold. How Gryffindor," Snape addressed in a low, calm voice, though the intense glare he gave Hermione was what you'd classify as murderous.
If looks could kill, this one certainly would kill Hermione.
She blushed again.
It was true that she had charmed some windows to light up the place (Not to destroy the classroom, Hermione's shot back to non-existence in her mind), and it was also true that she had not returned the book (But I would after finishing it, Hermione snarled mentally) and that she had told Geri to refresh the bedspread.
"Well, Professor," Hermione started her rejoinder, her eyes sultry. "I own the chamber now, Professor, and I don't see why not. And the dark, intimidating dungeons are not a good study environment! You need light, Professor, so that –"
"As much as I would love to hear your well-reasoned response, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted in his silky menacing voice pointedly, "I would suggest not since I am about to give you a task."
"And what is the task!" Hermione screeched shrilly.
"Manners, Miss Granger," Snape smirked as he watched the near-exploding witch take deep, steadying breaths and closed her eyes.
"Much better."
Snape paused, looking for a reaction. Hermione remained still with her eyes closed.
"Albus suggested this to me, and if I hadn't thought you are capable enough, I would not have tried this, trust me, Miss Granger. As you know, I died because of Nagini's bite in the Final Battle, even though after my preventions so painstakingly applied, I was unable to survive," Snape recounted bitterly, though his eyes remained cold and black.
Hermione finally looked up.
"Hence, Miss Granger," he started silkily and Hermione felt that warmth under her navel again, and this time it seemed to pulse.
"I would like to send you back in time to save me."
It felt like the world had just stopped.
Like when the globe stood still.
Because that was what happened to Hermione, since her mind went blank and she had to blink several times before she remembered how to exhale.
She let out a long shaky breath, unaware that she was holding it.
"How?" she whispered.
"Slide the portrait sideways and cast the Revealing Charm. A vault will then become visible and you have to unlock it. Use the basic, unthinkable way of breaking locks."
Here, Snape paused and sent a petrifying stare towards Hermione. The black orbs seemed to be conveying something unspeakable.
"You will see a parchment and a ring. Wear that ring. The rest of the story will unfold itself," he ended the instructions with his velvet voice.
It took Hermione awhile to remember how to answer a person.
"How… how do you know I will do it?"
"Conscience, Miss Granger," Snape purred back.
Hermione sauntered to the portrait and examined the golden frames while Snape looked at her. Finally, she complied.
"Fine, I will do this."
Snape smirked.
Hermione didn't know what washed over her, but without warning, she tilted the portrait violently.
The pale face with the overlarge hooked nose was caught in shock as Snape slid sideways through the frame.
A muffled, incensed roar filled with rage exploded from the side of the picture met Hermione's ears.
"Miss Granger! You will pay for that, Miss Granger!"
Hermione grinned at the red backdrop, immensely satisfied.
And she sat down to think.
That snarky fellow. Why should I agree?
But Hermione was a sentimental person. She knew, deep down, she would give anything to save the Professor from his untimely demise.
There was a strange jerk below her heart. She gasped.
I must be going nutters, fretting over such a thing. But Professor Snape didn't deserve to die, serving the Order and risking so much for the wizarding world.
And she bit on her lower lip.
So what am I going to do?
Her mind was resolved.
I would save you, Professor; I would, even if my life is at stake.
Here, the familiar determined blaze was back in her eyes.
And I have a feeling this will is unconditional.
And so, Hermione Granger got to work.
