Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling.

Much, much thanks to Escoger, who has become my co-author and beta and bastion of strength...all at the same time. Ellipses and all. :)

Do keep in mind that Hermione's perceptions are just those: HERMIONE'S perceptions. Unlike many HGSS authors, I'm not writing a Lily who is the ultimate evil for Severus.

The Dool Tree

Chapter 13

Sometimes the mild inconvenience of getting her head caught in the neck of a sweater reminded Hermione of the more basic things in life. Looking at the thousands of little fibers, all strung together in the unified purpose of keeping one strong thread of yarn together. That one thread of yarn, of course, being one of a few hundred in the sweater she was wearing. The individual parts joined in a union her measly little body warm, and Hermione was immediately grateful for their cooperation.

She wondered, with some self-righteousness, whether lots of people thanked the individual threads of their sweaters for serving them, as silly a thought as it might be. Despite allowing this superior train of thought glow for a few minutes as she finished dressing, Hermione acknowledged her fall from the latitude of moral correctness and immediately sought a remedy. As was her usual cure for haughty thinking, Hermione began to assess her own failings in the same context.

She'd been a complete mess when it came to S.P.E.W., of course; it had been her biggest endeavor to organize anybody, for any non-social, productive purpose. And when it came to social purposes--making friends--well, she couldn't say she had succeeded very much at getting on with her classmates or housemates. Harry and Ron being the only exception. She just grated on people in general--girls looked down on her for what they perceived as a condescending attitude (she couldn't figure out how intelligent comments like 'can you explain to me clearly why you wear cosmetic charms when they only make you look fake' ruffled their feathers), and boys avoided her for the intimidation/no good looks factor (though the latter wasn't a concern in her books, admittedly she had tried to tone down her swotiness significantly, except in class).

Continuing to brood as she strode through the Gryffindor Common Room, barely noticing James Potter plotting with Sirius for their pranks of the day, she admitted to herself that she probably wouldn't have any friends at all if it weren't for Harry's bravery that day with the troll in the girl's bathroom. Her mind began to wander as to her unity with Harry and Ronald, as friends and, in the latter case, something more...

Ronald. She wondered whether their unity had blinded her to the distance between the people they were, just like how the seperate threads were bound together but not one cogent whole. Was their only connection a similar purpose, a similar aim?

Hermione had long ago dealt with the demons that had concerned her about a relationship with Ron: whether he liked her or not (taken care of long ago), whether he could keep up with her mighty brain (surprisingly, this wasn't as bad as she had worried, as although Ron would never be an academic genius, he was plenty clever in his own right), and whether or not he had an actual emotional sensitiveness in his body (well, that might have taken a bit longer for her anxiety on that point to die). However, she had spent so much time trying to find a way past the obstacles that she had never really considered what they would do once they were together.

I mean, there's only so much one can do after snogging, isn't there?

Hermione twitched.

There is...shagging, also, I suppose, I guess...

The idea made her deucedly uncomfortable, as although she was fairly certain that the physical part of the relationship would be something she would enjoy avidly...the idea of that being the sum of their relationship was rather off-putting.

And...I guess what you could say we do together now is Help Harry.

That was the crux of the matter. They didn't really do anything productive together, just for the reason of doing it. They were always employed as support for the person that featured as one of the mutual major figures in their lives. They were like two rings on a Venn Diagram: two disparate beings that overlapped at a certain place, and the third being that they shared was another being that was both part of them and separate from them.

Which led to the obvious and scary question: would Ron and I actually have anything resembling a real relationship?

The immediate and necessary thing to think about was whether any other happy, successful couple she knew of had a similar problem of nothing-bonding-them-together. Hermione couldn't really think of any, a thought that had her mind racing with terror; what if, for all her attempts to hint Ron into wooing her, she had been missing the point the entire time, said point being the fact that she and Ron had no bloody futu-

Suddenly, her continued contemplations were forcibly interrupted by an unexpected collision with a vaguely-recognizable figure which had come striding out of a nearby classroom.

"Professor!"

That's all she could say before he went to the ground.

"Miss Granger," hissed the young man with a soft voice, belied with no small annoyance whilst his eyes narrowed. "Might I ask what you were doing? Were you so intent in reaching the library that you decided to bowl over everyone you encountered?" Thus condemning her, he sighed and rose to his feet again.

Stuttering, Hermione tried to apologize, "S-sorry, Professor, I didn't mean for it to h-happen. I was just...I needed to..." She stumbled over her own words as she tried to explain without truly explaining how she was feeling. The inner conflict about Ron, the outer conflict (she already had classified her current interaction as a 'conflict') with Snape...she just knew she couldn't take it all. Something was going to snap.

Funny, you would think that if one was conflicted inside and conflicted outside, one might be at peace with the world because everything is balanced, just like how one might expect not to feel a hot day at 36 degrees because one's body is 36 degrees so one shouldn't be able to feel the heat...

"Please, when you have regained your capacity to speak English, do tell me what you are trying to say," said Snape smoothly, shaking his head with disdain as the other students streamed past.

"I..."

Then the dam burst.

"I-I-I ca-aaan't," Hermione gasped in great sobs. "I'm just so...stupid, I'm no good at all, no good. And I can't even get what I want, and everything's just so difficult. And I've not been doing nearly enough revision so far, especially considering that I've got my tests so much earlier than I expected this year, and it's all just so difficult and so nasty and I...I really wish I could go home..."

To accentuate her distress, she had her hands to her face, and she felt her fingernails clenching at her flesh. Flaccid flesh, she inwardly commented, flabby flesh. I'm fat and stupid and no good at all, and I just want to go home and cry and tell my mum, but I can't go home, and I just miss my mum.

"You're just goddamn spoiled, that's what," was Snape's terse response.

This made Hermione perk up in her own defense. "What? I'm not spoiled!" she insisted, shoving away her tears with the hem of her sleeve to be unpacked and analyzed later, like one might with trinkets after being suddenly and violently evicted.

"Yes, you most certainly are," Snape said, quite severe and immovable on the point. "And what's more, you're homesick. That's all. So go home, then. Go. It's not like I know what you feel like," he added, probably more to himself than to her.

Hermione softened a bit. "What do you mean by that?" she inquired a little rudely, her own angst forgotten.

"Nothing whatsoever," Snape bit out, too defensive to be believable. "I don't mean anything by it."

"Well, in that case," Hermione stated, getting just as defensive, "you might as well know that I don't have a home. And that's the reason I'm here. My parents are...as good as dead, my friends and family are all gone, and the chances of seeing them again are really small." It was all practically true, of course, though she hoped the really small part wasn't.

This confession, however, seemed the opening that Snape needed to admit a few things of his own.

"You...you're lucky," he said, trying to come off as cavalier, but it was clear that he was moved.

Not wanting to lose an opportunity, Hermione grabbed Snape's shoulder and spun him into the nearest alcove.

"You're going to explain how...how assassins killing off everyone who's important to me means I'm lucky?"

The 'reason' for her bereavement was very impromptu, but Hermione hoped the total effect would startle something secret out of him, like one might kick a free soda out of a fickle vending machine.

She was wrong in this, however; Severus Snape was not someone who dispensed free sodas to anyone who inquired.

"You are," he maintained, but clammed up.

"Go on! Come on, what were you going to say?" Hermione demanded, shaking him still in the hopes of him spitting out his heart.

Then he snarled. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

It was so jarring to hear him say it--unsurely, but still without remorse--that Hermione let go. Was it his first time in his young life to say such words? She supposed so, or at least one of the first times. For a moment, while she felt herself bridging to the old and familiar through means that were so new, she wondered if she might enter a time warp because of his saying it just like he might say it to her in her own time. She half-expected something like Aladdin's magic carpet to pick her up and whisk her away back to her homeland now that some strange spell had been broken.

But she didn't, if only because Snape took advantage of her confusion to slip away and skulk in the shadows. He was almost out of sight when he was suddenly joined by a girl with beautiful red hair. Lily.

Hermione still couldn't decide whether Snape had been trying to truly insult her or just make a getaway from her 'intervention', so she watched them from where he'd left her. What were his intentions with that deduction of points? It wasn't real of course, so why had he done it?

As she watched, she decided that Snape's entire air seemed to lack confidence, his shoulders hunched forward and his hands in his pockets. Even when he conversed with Lily, he didn't look up at the girl he was supposedly in love with very much while Hermione watched. Meanwhile, Lily just grinned at him, placing one of her (overly-delicate, in Hermione's opinion) hands on his shoulder as they talked. She seemed to feign camaraderie, but Hermione could tell the truth by seeing how Severus failed to respond in kind, not even perking up as Lily gave his arm a squeeze.

She wondered how it compared to when she was with Ron, as she could easily see some parallels. Ron was a difficult soul, as Snape was, and often she didn't get along well with him due to their differences. Their case seemed to be similar to that of Snape and Lily. The pair clearly had a great many differences...although not half as many as she herself had with Ron...and it seemed that they had some sort of friendship as well, perhaps a strong one. Of course, Ron always seemed to respect me, while Lily seems to look down on Snape. I mean, him not being able to be a teacher? What a lot of rot.

As she watched, Snape and Lily turned together and headed back down the hallway, the former with his head down and the latter with her head high.

Not wanting to follow too close behind them, Hermione squated where she was in the hall, drawing her arms around herself and sighing. She did miss Ron, even if she and he weren't so...perfect as she'd always thought they'd be.

Maybe it'll be different when I get back, she thought, feeling her hope ebbing. The need to boost herself with deception rose in the back of her mind, and she began to spew more inane platitudes, all the while acknowledging their falseness. He does love me, I know it, it just never occurred to us to say anything because of the Mutual Understanding between us. Yes, that's it. We have always known we were in love with each other, and it's impossible that anyone ever thought otherwise. Viktor Krum? Didn't mean a thing to me...

While thus engrossed, she didn't notice Lily approaching until the other girl poked her head into her alcove.

"Hi...erm...Granger?"

"Hi," answered Hermione, morose of mien.

"Hey...what are you doing?"

Hermione debated what to say, before finally replying with an articulate shrug.

Lily responded by saying, with a nice smile, "Well, I was thinking that maybe the two of us got off badly yesterday, and I was hoping that we could take another shot at it. It's just..." She chuckled, shaking her head. "...even before his stupid 'Death Eater' ideas got the better of him, Severus never had the slightest interest in teaching. He'd be horrible at it, we all know that, and he'd much rather be in something like...I don't know, researching."

"And that wouldn't be a bad place for him, in my opinion," Hermione said, still obstinate on her point. "He's brilliant, and, quite frankly, it'd be a right shame if he couldn't have the chance to impress young minds with his knowledge and talents. He'd be a great teacher if he put his mind to it."

"That doesn't mean that he wants to put his mind to it," Lily insisted, her jaw firm as she spoke with determination.

"How do you know?" Hermione retorted, her hands on her hips. "Have you even asked his opinion on this subject?"

"Of course I would know! He's my dearest and best friend!" answered Lily, looking quite cross by now, her eyes narrowed. "He wouldn't be suited for a job as a teacher, and this is getting really stupid. We've talked this topic to death already!"

Ooh, she's neglected to admit that she didn't ask Snape's own opinion, Hermione thought with some gloating. Such a friend she is, thinking so low of Snape.

"Well, I bet that I know better," Hermione insisted. "Sorry, not to sound arrogant, but I'm sure that of the two of us, I'm the better potions mistress. And that definitely both Professor Snape and myself would get top of the class on our O.W.L.s, and better than you besides."

"Is that so?" The challenge was well met by Lily, and she laughed lowly, shaking her head. "I wouldn't doubt that Severus could beat me in Potions...well, some days....but I don't think that you could pull it off. Sorry, not to sound arrogant, but I'm sure that I'm the superior potions mistress."

"Do you want to make a wager?" Hermione proposed, a determined look upon her face.

"How vulgar," Lily replied, sticking out her tongue in disgust. "Besides, I've already taken my O.W.L.s today. It wouldn't be fair to make a wager now. Still, I suppose if you can beat my own score...well, let's just wait and see."

She just as good as accepted, Hermione decided, feeling triumphant.

"Yes, I daresay we'll just wait and see," she replied in turn, smiling with the self-assurance that the clock face on a time-bomb might have. Unable to resist gloating. "And I daresay you'll have some admissions to make as well."

At this, Lily rolled her eyes as she walked away, throwing her hands in the air with annoyed frustration, muttering just loudly enough for Hermione to hear, "Mental, she's completely mental."

At this, Hermione's grin widened. Lily had no idea what was in store for her--there was a reason she was the best in every class, after all.

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