Lying on her bed in the girls' dormitory, Hermione listened to Lavender's and Parvati's even and steady breathing. Her roommates were already sound asleep.
As you should be as well, Granger, she reminded herself, staring up at the bed canopy.
They had left Grimmauld Place early in the morning, and the journey on the Knight Bus had been tiring as had been tonight's knitting of elves' hats. Her fingers still felt a bit tense, but to know that the hats would be gone in the morning was the best reward for this little discomfort.
Tomorrow classes would start again, and the fact that she would have to face Professor Snape for the first time since the incident at Grimmauld Place made her stomach tingle with nervous anticipation.
Their brief encounter on the edge of the night had shifted her small universe irrevocably.
Like tasting from the bittersweet Tree of Knowledge, it had robbed her of her state of innocent ignorance. She would never be able to forget the sight of him – cursed, trembling, and hurt.
And tomorrow, she would sit in the Potions classroom, no longer oblivious to the fact that Professor Snape risked his life for the sake of the Order—for Harry—and had to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary...
Nothing out of the ordinary.
How utterly preposterous.
Hermione snorted quietly into the darkness.
Relief had flooded her as she had recognized that he was well again when she had caught a small glimpse of him during his short visit at Headquarters to schedule Harry's Occlumency lessons.
Well again, indeed.
Hermione sighed, rolling onto her side and giving her pillow an annoyed thump.
Professor Snape had already recovered so sufficiently that he was able to fight with Sirius—again. Each time, she was shaken by the amount of enmity that radiated between the two men. What could have possibly caused this wrath, this … hatred?
Professor Snape knew Sirius since his schooldays, this she knew for sure, as he knew Harry's dad, Remus and…
Lily.
Professor Snape had spoken the name with such tender longing even a blind man would have known that he cared… no, loved this Lily wholeheartedly. The sound had filled Hermione's soul with some kind of unknown envy, leaving her for a rather selfish moment to wonder if Ron would ever say her name that way.
At Grimmauld Place, she had spontaneously assumed that her professor had been calling for Lily Potter, but later she wasn't sure anymore if she had drawn the right conclusion. Harry's mum was simply the only Lily she knew in the Wizarding world. Therefore it was most logical that she had thought of her first. But for Professor Snape's sake she sincerely hoped that her first guess was wrong; that this Lily was still among the living, even if his love for her was obviously an unfortunate and unrequited one.
Lily was by no means a rare given name, and Harry had told her that his mother and his father had been together since Hogwarts. There was no way that Professor Snape's feelings would fit into this. Maybe there had been another girl named Lily with whom he attended Hogwarts, or knew some other source. There were women among the Death Eaters as well…
Among the Death Eaters.
A female Death Eater. A possibility. A most logical answer.
"No," she whispered into the darkness, hugging her pillow a bit tighter, as if denying this possibility out loud would make it impossible.
Her heart felt unpleasantly heavy, filled with the sudden need to know for certain who Professor Snape's Lily was.
Hermione's forehead crinkled. She would have some research to do. Maybe Professor McGonagall would allow her to have a look into the school records. She only needed a good reason. Well, she had a good reason, but none that would count for her Head of House.
A presentable reason.
Stifling a yawn, Hermione snuggled into the sheets. She would find a reason for Professor McGonagall. She would figure out who this Lily was. And she would start tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Merlin, help her.
She would hex him.
She would simply hex him into next week.
Yes, that would be a most satisfying punishment.
Hermione glared at her porridge, which had lost all appeal to her, silently counting the different ways to hex Ron for all eternity if he dared to eat another piece of black pudding.
Her stomach felt even more queasy with nervousness this morning. The gloomy look Professor Snape had worn at breakfast hadn't helped much either. She had dared a brief glance at him while he talked to Professor Dumbledore. Immediately a wave of sympathy had washed over her as she had seen the dark circles that wrapped his eyes. They stood out quite visibly against the pallor of his skin. He seemed to have not slept properly in days. Did the man ever rest?
"Hey 'Mione, you look a bit pale. Everything okay?" Ginny asked in a whisper as she leaned to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Oh, really?" Hermione asked in a tone she hoped sounded utterly surprised, shoving her porridge away.
"Yeah," Ginny confirmed, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze, which Hermione returned with a non-committal shrug of her own. From the corner of her eye she caught Ron grasping for the black pudding plate while he talked to Harry.
Eyes fixed on the surface of the table, Hermione gritted her teeth, recounting the ten characteristics of dragon's blood in an attempt to focus on something different than the new wave of queasiness Ron's choice of food had caused her.
"Do you know how long the Greasy Git will keep you tonight, mate?" she heard him ask as he threw another piece of black pudding into his mouth and ate it noisily. "I mean, Harry, Snape can't force you to spend the whole evening in the dungeons…"
However, Hermione never heard Harry's answer. Ron's words caused a bubble of boiling anger to erupt in her already tense stomach. How could he be such an ignorant prat? Didn't he know that Harry needed these Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape?
Dismissing her first impulse to scream, shake or knock some sense into Ron, Hermione felt herself rise from her seat, giving him a murderous glance.
"It is Professor Snape, Ronald," she said sweetly, a tone that would have left Dolores Umbridge green with envy. "And I would advise you to improve your table manners if you do not want to risk taking your breakfast alone one day. I'll see you in Potions, Harry."
Ron's jaw dropped unflatteringly, causing a certain amount of snickers around him while Hermione grasped her books, turning swiftly to leave. She allowed herself to raise her chin slightly as she made her way through the Great Hall, savoring the feeling that for a brief moment the balance of Justice's scales had been restored.
As she reached the door of the Potions classroom, Hermione stopped in her tracks. She exhaled deeply in a final attempt to brace herself for the inevitable, before pushing the door open with a swift movement. The room was already half-filled with students. Some were talking quietly while others made last attempts to finish their essays. Everything appeared as usual. It felt almost surreal as she placed her bag on her worktable.
"Uh… hello, Hermione," a voice said behind her.
She turned around and was greeted by Neville's friendly round face.
"Good morning, Neville." Hermione gave him a broad smile before she looked down to retrieve her copy of Magical Draughts and Potions from her bag.
"How…" she trailed off, biting her tongue. For thoughtless seconds she had been about to ask Neville how his Christmas had been, before remembering their heart-wrenching encounter at St. Mungo's. Another piece of bittersweet knowledge Christmas had brought her.
Feeling eternally grateful that her eyes were lowered to her bag right now, Hermione swallowed, knowing that her features would have betrayed her shock about her near lapse.
"How what?"
"Sorry Neville… I was momentarily distracted. How was your Potions essay?" she asked with feigned interest, eyes firmly directed on her bag while she pretended to search for something.
"I can have a look at it if you like."
There was a moment of silence, and Hermione was just about to turn around as somebody stepped up behind her.
"My, my, Miss Granger. That will be twenty-five points from Gryffindor, for helping Longbottom to cheat on his Potions essay."
The sudden sound of Professor Snape's cold voice left her rigid, her heart literally skipping a beat as she sensed the Potions master lean down.
"And another twenty-five points for being a nosy Gryffindor and not minding your own business, Miss Granger," he announced in a low, dangerous tone next to her ear.
Without giving her a chance to respond, he rushed away, releasing Hermione slowly from her stupor.
Sweet Merlin, where was the hole that would swallow her? Of all the horrible scenarios how their first meeting would pass, this was the worst imaginable.
Suddenly, her knees felt wobbly and Hermione flung herself on her chair, ignoring Neville's attempts to apologize and Pansy's giggles.
"See, that's what you get for defending the bastard, 'Mione," Harry hissed quietly as he slipped into his place next to her.
She opened her mouth to respond, trying to tell him that he was wrong, but her attempt was stopped as Professor Snape rose from his desk, stepping up in front of the class. Hermione dropped her gaze swiftly, suddenly feeling unable to meet those black eyes.
"Close your books," he ordered coolly, causing half of the students to whisper in bewilderment.
"I am well aware of the fact that most students in this class spend their free time during the Christmas break with rather mindless activities instead of revising the subject matters of the last term, as you should be doing for your OWLs. Therefore we will start this lesson with a revision before you will brew today's scheduled potion."
Eyes still glued firmly to her hands on the worktable, Hermione heard Ron mutter something like "nasty git" under his breath while, throughout the class, quiet groans erupted at Professor Snape's announcement.
"Let's begin with something simple. Who can name the two essential ingredients for the Draught of Peace? Mr. Longbottom perhaps," Professor Snape asked with a sneer.
Hermione squeezed her hands into small fists, forcing herself to refrain from raising one and suppressing the strong urge to snort at the description for this quite challenging question with the word simple.
Casting a quick glance at Neville and seeing him shake his head confirmed her suspicion that he would not be able to answer the question.
"Five points from Gryffindor. Mr. Malfoy would you be so kind to assist Mr. Longbottom in his ignorance."
"Certainly, sir," Malfoy said gleefully. "The two essential ingredients for the Draught of Peace are moonstone and hellebore."
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, ten points to Slytherin. The main ingredient of the Strengthening Solution then, Longbottom?"
Immediately Harry's hand was in the air and Hermione forced her own hand down again, silently wishing that Harry's willingness to answer a question would tempt Professor Snape to leave Neville alone.
"Five points from Gryffindor. Miss Parkinson, please enlighten your fellow classmates, so that even Mr. Longbottom has the small chance of passing his Potions OWLs."
The Slytherins snickered, and Neville seemed to shrink with each word further into his chair.
Anger. Indignation. Disappointment. Hermione could not name what finally urged her to lift her gaze to meet the sight of Professor Snape. Arms crossed in front of his chest and lips pressed into a thin angry line, he waited for Pansy to answer his question, an aura of frosty aloofness surrounding him.
The harsh Potions master in front of her was a million miles away from the man she had seen at Grimmauld Place – a man to whom she had given a promise.
Whenever. Somehow.
A promise that appeared utterly ludicrous while she was left to watch how this man gave Neville another disdainful look. Certainly the question had been an easy and essential one, but how could he humiliate Neville like that?
How?
Meanwhile, Pansy answered proudly, "The main ingredient is salamander blood, sir."
"Excellent, ten points to Slytherin," Professor Snape said, his eyes already on Neville again.
"But maybe the noble house of Gryffindor has a more adequate knowledge in the field of love potions. Mr. Longbottom, pray tell, what is the strongest known love potion?"
Amortentia
Hermione blinked, her knuckles white with anger. Amortentia wasn't even OWL level. Neville had no chance to know the answer.
"With all due respect, sir, the question is unfair," she heard herself snap, the indignant protest leaving her mouth before her mind had even realized it. Instantly cold black eyes met her gaze.
Oh my.
"Miss Granger, I see you have finally decided to join us intellectually."
Professor Snape placed his hands on her table, leaning slightly forward in an obvious attempt to intimidate her. But the pure adrenalin that was coursing through her veins saved her from being sufficiently affected by his gesture.
"Miss Granger, may I ask you to illuminate me, why—in all your know-it-all wisdom—you have decided that this question is not adequate for Mr. Longbottom, before I have the pleasure to deduct at least twenty points for interrupting my class." A sneer curled his thin lips while those frighteningly emotionless eyes bored further into hers.
Seventy points in only half an hour.
Professor McGonagall would have her head for this; for an absurd moment, she was relieved that nobody could be expelled for losing house points. But nothing could save her from the icy feeling that crept into her heart.
In front of her, a mocking eyebrow rose, and Hermione realized that she was still staring at Professor Snape, her bottom lip trembling treacherously.
"I am waiting, Miss Granger."
She swallowed, angry tears forming in her eyes. She would say it. She had to say it, even if he would eat her alive afterwards. House points be damned.
"The answer to your question is Amortentia, Professor Snape, and Amortentia is a NEWT-level potion. It hasn't been covered in class up to now. Therefore, asking anybody in this room for the answer could be counted as unfair in my opinion."
The words came out in the most self-confident tone she could measure, but her voice still sounded disturbingly high-pitched. And then there was nothing but silence.
Dead silence.
Merlin, she was in the eye of a hurricane. But the hurricane never came.
For mere moments Hermione believed she could see something flash in the dark depths of Professor Snape's eyes, but he did not say anything; his face remained unreadable as always. After several seconds, he simply turned his back on her, moving with billowing robes to stand behind his desk. What the hell was he doing?
"Twenty points from Gryffindor for speaking in class without permission, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said coolly, causing several Slytherins to snicker with delight. But a sharp look from him silenced them immediately.
"And I will not tolerate any further interruptions today. You will now brew the Fever Reducing Solution by following the instructions on the board. You have one hour." Leaving no space or time for possible questions or objections, Professor Snape sat down at his desk, focusing on the pile of essays in front of him.
It took several minutes before Hermione was able to concentrate on her ingredients, and as she caught Harry's worried emerald eyes over her mandrake roots, she mouthed a silent later.
She had lost enough points for one day.
A/N: As always, hugs and kudos to Losille for her beta work :o)