Chapter 2: The Downward Spiral
After a month of taking it easy, Hermione had finally been proclaimed fully recovered and received permission to use any type of magic she wanted. Madam Pomfrey only asked her to watch for any signs of weakness and to please, please not overexert herself. Hermione promised…and promptly launched herself into frantic studying for the upcoming NEWTs. The final exams were to be held at the Ministry for everyone who wished to take them.
Hermione moved in to Grimmauld Place together with Harry and Ron. To her greatest surprise, they both refused the complimentary NEWT scores offered by the Ministry. Apparently, Scrimgeour was trying to make amends for his treatment of Harry. However, his "generous" offer was passed over. Harry grinned at her incredulous face and said, 'I suppose those grades are needed for a reason, Hermione. I want to be a good Auror, so I guess I'll have to sit down on my arse and study a bit, huh?' Ron nodded his consent with some reluctance.
So, the trio were back together—Hermione designing study schedules for the boys, making lists of all the spells and potions that they would have to revise for. They couldn't play Quidditch in the middle of London, which made them grumble a bit, but living independently won over Quidditch any day. Mrs. Weasley kept dropping hints that they would be welcome to stay at the Burrow anytime, but after the year they had spent alone in their tent together, they felt too grown up to be mothered by Molly. Of course, they visited the Burrow at least once a week, sometimes more often. The Weasleys were still devastated by Fred's death and Molly needed the support of all her children, including Harry and Hermione. George had suspended the shop for a while and had gone with Charlie to the dragon reserve. Ginny and Harry were back together and she visited Grimmauld Place almost every day. Everyone was struggling to maintain a semblance of a normal life, pretending that everything was getting better.
In the evenings, Hermione, Ron, and Harry usually stopped studying and had dinner, taking turns to cook or ordering food; sometimes they would speak about the battle. However, they rarely spoke about their own feelings, as if it was too soon and still too painful.
One of these evenings, Hermione managed to get out of Harry more of the story about Snape. He had left for his cottage in Greece immediately after she had woken up, so she had never got the chance to speak to him again. At first, Harry was reluctant to reveal anything, claiming it would be a violation of the professor's trust. Finally, she managed to coax out of him two facts. Firstly, Snape had indeed been helping them all along through their Horcrux hunt. Secondly, he had been driven through his life by his deep affection for a woman who was long dead. There he stopped talking and clammed up, glaring at her as if he had said too much already. After that, he refused to discuss the professor.
Another piece of information she had gathered was at one of Molly's dinners. Just as they arrived, Arthur introduced her to a middle-aged wizard, Healer Brendan from St. Mungo's. He looked at Hermione with bright eyes.
'Glad to see you are so much better, Miss Granger. It seems that Severus was right as ever.'
Her curiosity piqued, she asked, 'Professor Snape? What was he right about?' The man chuckled.
'I was one of your healers when you were in a coma, dear. It shames me to say that I had almost given up on you, as well as the others. When you showed signs of recovery, I remarked it was a pity that such a young and promising witch would be rendered a mere Squib. Then Severus glared at me in his special way and said, "Carl, Miss Granger is more interconnected with her magic than any pureblood! If she does not die, she will recover fully." And, I see your magical aura is very strong. The man has the infuriating habit of being always right, but this time I can truly say I am glad about it.'
Hermione flushed, feeling sudden warmth at her professor's belief in her. He himself had said as much during their last talk, but it was different hearing it from another person.
Two months after the battle, NEWT week finally arrived. It was a blur of revision, oral and written exams, and sheer exhaustion. Her friends were worried that the exertion could deplete her magic again, but Hermione felt fine. True, her body was taxed from lack of sleep and too much caffeine, but she felt her magic alive and vibrant, thrumming through her veins, stronger than ever. The sensation was different from before her illness, but she attributed it to heightened awareness. After all, she had been close to losing it; it was reasonable to think that she would feel it more consciously now. Hermione also took to studying in the back garden of Grimmauld Place. It was shabby and full of weed overgrowth, but being outdoors seemed to return some of her energy.
After the last exam, the three friends got together for a celebratory lunch with their schoolmates at the Three Broomsticks, and a celebratory dinner at the Burrow. Harry and Ron had drunk a little too much and weren't up for Apparating home, and Hermione didn't want to go alone back to an empty house. So, the boys bunked together in the twins' old room, while Hermione got the luxury of Percy's old room all to herself.
That was the night when the nightmares began.
She was standing on the battlefield, the familiar stench of blood and burned flesh making her choke. The bodies of friends scattered all around her, Fred's empty gaze, Colin Creevey, seeming even smaller in death, and the blood, all the blood coming seemingly from nowhere. Then, all the familiar faces contorted into hateful masks, hurling accusations at her. "Why did you have to live and we didn't? What makes you so special? We had families that miss us; you have no one. Nobody would have missed you; why didn't you die instead of one of us?" Their faces got closer and closer, their mouths opened and blood started to pour out, quickly rising to her throat and threatening to engulf her, while she struggled and screamed, 'It wasn't my fault, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.'
She woke up drenched in cold sweat, her last scream still ringing in her ears. Someone was knocking frantically on the door.
'Hermione! Hermione, open the door!' It was Mrs. Weasley. Hermione stumbled out of bed and unwarded the room. Mrs. Weasley rushed in, wand drawn, lips tight with concern. When she saw Hermione alone, she dropped her wand with a sigh of relief. Ginny followed her and lingered quietly in the doorway.
'Are you all right, dear? I heard you scream and I thought Merlin knows what.'
'I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. I just had a nightmare, I'm sorry I scared you.'
Ginny smiled and asked, 'Do you want me to stay with you? It helps if you don't sleep alone.' In response, Hermione lifted the covers and Ginny slipped into the bed. Mrs. Weasley said, 'Goodnight,' and left the girls alone.
Ginny waited until her mother's footsteps faded and probed gently, 'Do you want to talk about it?' Hermione sighed. She needed to talk about it, but she didn't want to bring up Fred's death and upset her friend. So she muttered, 'It was about the battle, Ginny, please don't ask about details.'
The younger girl squeezed her hand. 'I understand. I had nightmares about Tom after the Chamber incident. I didn't feel like talking about it until years later. I know it's different for everyone; I just wanted to let you know that you can always talk to me. Go to sleep now, or you're going to look like shit tomorrow.'
Hermione swatted Ginny half-heartedly and quickly followed her advice, trying to forget the disturbing images of her nightmare.
For a while after that first night, Hermione's sleep was untroubled. Unlike before, she was calm about her exam results. To her great amusement, Harry and Ron were nervous and fidgety, jumping at every unfortunate owl that arrived with a letter. When the long awaited letters finally arrived, the boys almost ripped them open with excitement. A moment later, the room was filled with frantic yelling and Hermione doubled over with laughter, watching their victory dance. There was an additional letter enclosed with their results—they were both accepted in the Auror Training Program. After the excitement had died down, Harry and Ron towered over her, demanding to see her scores.
'I want to see if you have at least a single E, just to prove that you are human.' Ron teased her with a huge grin.
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, 'Honestly, Ronald, I had an E on my Defence OWL. Besides, the only important ones are Potions and Arithmancy.'
She opened her letter and scanned it quickly with a smug smile. Then she tossed it onto the table and sighed with mock regret.
'Sorry to disappoint you, Ron, it seems that I am not human after all.'
Harry grabbed the score sheet and looked at it in awe. Reading through the comments, he gave her a funny look.
'It says here that you beat the record score on the Potions exam.'
Hermione grinned. 'Yes, I saw it.'
Harry interrupted her, 'It also says that the last record score belonged to Professor Snape and my mum.'
Hermione's eyes widened and she reached for the letter, this time reading it carefully. When she raised her eyes, she smiled sadly.
'Yes, it seems they had a tie that year.' She folded the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope.
Ron looked genuinely impressed.
'Wow, Mione! I bet you could study Potions anywhere you wanted with that score.'
'That is exactly what I am planning to do, I just have not decided where. That is why I needed high marks in Potions and Arithmancy.'
Harry put an arm on her shoulder, smiling genuinely. 'Ron is right, Hermione, I am sure you can go wherever you decide.'
After one more week of relaxation, the boys' summer training began. Meanwhile, Hermione's nightmares returned. She had dismissed that one night as an accident, but it soon became clear that the nightmares weren't going to go away. It was almost the same every time: the hateful faces of her dead friends hurling insults, drowning her in blood. She always woke up before the blood reached her face, but that didn't make it any better. A Silencing Charm became part of her bedtime routine because she didn't want to disturb the boys. The first night, when they woke because of her screams, she managed to persuade them that it was an accident. They didn't know about her first nightmare at the Burrow, so they bought it and didn't ask any more questions.
Hermione remembered Ginny's offer, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to talk to anybody about her problem. All her friends seemed to have come to terms with their losses. Harry was still sad when he spoke of Lupin and Tonks, but he was dead serious about his godfather duties. Sometimes, instead of going straight home after training, he visited Andromeda Tonks together with Ginny and spent time with little Teddy. George returned from Romania and reopened his joke shop, so Ron often visited to help him out and sometimes slept over. Even Molly didn't burst into tears every time someone mentioned Fred's name. Everyone appeared to be coping well and she didn't feel it was fair to open up old wounds that were on the mend.
Going to sleep after a nightmare was nearly impossible, and the insomnia made Hermione grumpy and irritable. The boys were hardly at home anymore, thus nobody noticed her drifting away. Her nightly terrors continued during the day, she was feeling increasingly guilty about letting her friends die. She tried taking a Dreamless Sleep Potion before going to bed, but it was highly addictive, so she dared use it only when she felt on the brink of exhaustion. Sometimes, the dreams would cease for several days and just when she started hoping, they would return at full force. Even spending time in the garden didn't relax her anymore. Hermione was falling into despair.
One night her usual dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion didn't prevent the nightmare, and when she woke up she broke down, sobbing into her pillow. Furious, she cast Lumos and grabbed for her potion case, determined to get some sleep—no matter what. While she rummaged for the potion, her hand closed around an unfamiliar phial. Looking closely, she identified the spidery scrawl as Professor Snape's. It was a leftover phial from the headache potion he gave her while she was ill. Suddenly, an idea formed in her head. She could write about her problem to him. It was grasping at straws, but she had to tell someone! He had been kind to her. Hell, he had even given her permission to use his given name, not that she was going to use it. Professor Snape had suffered through enough traumatic experiences to last several lifetimes; maybe he could give her some insight and advice. He could also tell her off as a presuming and insolent little girl, but she was desperate enough to risk his wrath. She took out a piece of parchment, a quill, and composed her letter. It seemed that pouring her thoughts on paper put her mind at ease because afterwards, she fell into an untroubled sleep.
Early in the morning, she caught Ron by the sleeve just before he left.
'Ron, may I borrow Pig for a few days? I need to send a letter abroad.' Ron shrugged.
'Sure. I use the Auror Department's owls anyway.' Hermione thanked him and hurried off to send her letter.
Severus Snape scowled at the sun. It was the only thing that bothered him about Greece: the sun was too bright and the summer was much too hot. He was currently in shirtsleeves, picking fresh thyme from his cottage's garden. Just as he was going back inside, he heard the fluttering of wings. Turning around, he was assaulted by a very small and tired owl, which dropped a letter into his hand and promptly fell on the ground. Severus sighed, recognising Weasley's owl. He carried the small bird inside, cast Ennervate, and provided him with water and some food. While the owl stuffed his beak, scarily reminiscent of his master, Severus opened his letter and read it, his scowl deepening by the minute.
"Professor Snape,
I apologise if I am overstepping my boundaries by writing this letter, but you seemed sympathetic when we spoke last and I am afraid I don't know whom else to turn to. Two months after the battle, I began having nightmares: my dead friends accuse and ask me why it is that I still live while they have died…during the day, I continue to ask myself the same questions. I know I could not have helped them, but I still feel guilty about it. Somehow, I cannot bring myself to talk to anybody over here about this matter. They all seem so happy nowadays and I do not want to be the one to dig up old skeletons. Perhaps, I do not have any right to write to you, but my intuition tells me that you will understand and can maybe offer a solution. I dare not sleep because of the nightmares and I do not think it is safe to take any more Dreamless Sleep Potion. Maybe there is another, less addictive potion you could offer? I apologise again for any inconvenience that I have caused.
Hermione Granger"
Severus growled in anger, startling the small owl. He glared at the bird and ground out, 'Wait here. You can carry back the reply straightaway.' He sat down at his desk and started scribbling furiously, muttering about the stupid Gryffindor nobility. After finishing, he sealed the letter and tied it to the owl's leg. Ignoring his reproachful look, he carried the bird outside and tossed him in the air quite unceremoniously. Then, he walked into his cottage and slammed the door closed.
Pig returned a week after she sent him. He flew in through the window while Hermione was having breakfast by herself. The tired owl dropped the letter on her plate, helped himself to some bacon, and flew away sulking. Hermione grabbed the letter and read it quickly.
"Miss Granger,
Saving my life doesn't entitle you to use me as an agony uncle, but I understand your predicament. Blaming yourself is a common reaction—it is called survivor's guilt. The recurring nightmares, however, indicate a more serious condition. I suggest you read up on clinical depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. See if you have any other matching symptoms besides obsessive feelings and nightmares.
Either way, I suggest you overcome your reluctance and speak to your closest friends. There is no love lost between Potter, Weasley, and me, but they have shown signs of maturity and I believe they will understand and can help you overcome your problem.
Minerva has informed me that you have hidden your parents in Australia under false identities and a Memory Charm. Now that the threat to their lives is over, I believe you should retrieve them immediately; you will need their support too.
Do not, I repeat, DO NOT take any more Dreamless Sleep Potion. I have been told that in such cases, another person's presence in the room can subdue the nightmares. I wish you a speedy recovery, Miss Granger.
Severus Snape, Potions Master
PS: Congratulations on your Potions NEWT score."
A/N: Many thanks to Gryffindor_Slytherin, the greatest beta ever, and to all reviewers. This chapter's title belongs to Nine Inch Nails.