The Sun is Often Out

Chapter 7

As the month of March drew to a close, the Easter break approached, and Hermione was sincerely looking forward to two weeks of lesson-free days. The castle didn't empty as much as it did during the Christmas holidays, but it would still be relatively quiet—perfect for Hermione to work on her exam preparation, both in terms of her own exams, and those of her students as well. It was all well and good deciding to stay on and teach at Hogwarts, but if all her students did badly in their end-of-year exams, then surely that would raise some issues!

Presently, Hermione was enjoying her last lesson of the term with her third-years. The day was a bright one, and Hermione had decided that, as a treat, they would have a fun, practical lesson and take it outside. The students seemed to be enjoying themselves, if their enthusiasm was anything to go by, and unless her eyes were deceiving her, things were about to get a bit more enjoyable for herself too.

'Good afternoon, Headmaster; have you come to join in?'

Snape came to a stop beside her, the ends of his hair fluttering slightly in the breeze. He'd emerged from the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid and was holding a phial of some unknown substance in his hand.

'I think not, Professor,' he answered, watching the spectacle in front of him with narrowed eyes. 'It's hardly my cup of tea. What are they playing—is it rounders?'

'Yes, it is rounders.'

'May I ask why it is they are playing such an inane game?'

Hermione laughed. 'You don't approve of such frivolity, I take it?'

'I can be described as many things, Professor, and frivolous is not one of them.'

Hermione nodded in agreement. 'Well, we have been studying Muggle sports, and seeing as they are all up-to-date with their work, I decided they might enjoy having a go at something themselves. I thought it better to pick rounders than have them all running about with hockey sticks or pummelling each other in a game of rugby.'

'As if you could have taught them how to play rugby,' observed Snape derisively.

Hermione was affronted on principle. 'I might have played women's rugby in the past, for all you know!'

'Women play rugby?' He looked rather horrified.

'Of course they do, and it's just as brutal.'

Snape merely raised his eyebrows.

'I suppose you've made sure there's no cheating?' he asked after a moment, nodding in the direction of the rounders game.

'Of course,' assured Hermione.

Snape gave her a look.

'Well, all right, only after Hodge charmed the bat and whacked the ball all the way into Hogsmeade.'

'Ah.'

They watched silently as one student sent the ball soaring into the air and began tearing around the bases.

'I made a run, Professor!'

Hermione nodded. 'Well done, Miss Bradshaw.'

Hermione then proceeded to alter the little scoreboard beside her.

'Slytherpuff and Gryffinclaw?' snorted Snape.

Hermione smiled. 'Yes, I had to combine them into teams—the winning team gets ten points for each house.'

'By the way, I need the samples of work you selected for the Governors by Sunday at the latest.'

'Oh, yes, of course; you know, I wish I could come to the meeting with you. The suspense will surely kill me.'

'You shall just have to control yourself until I am back, I am afraid, which should be around one o'clock. Normally, the meetings are held at Hogwarts but changes to the curriculum have to go through the Ministry so it will be held there.'

'Do you think there's much chance they'll vote against it?' Hermione queried.

Snape shrugged. 'I really couldn't say. People are less outspoken, in general, about their views of Muggles since the end of the war, but that doesn't mean they are afraid to air them if they feel they need to.'

'We will just have to wait and see, then.'

'Indeed, Hermione. Indeed.'

Monday dawned to find Hermione a ball of nervous energy. She arose early and got through her usual morning routine in half the time. Therefore, she was extremely grateful that, after breakfast, she was needed to help usher students into the awaiting carriages to be conveyed to the station in Hogsmeade. It gave her something to occupy herself with for half an hour, at least.

Then, as it neared eleven o'clock, she observed Snape leave for the Ministry, and she groaned. She had two hours of tense waiting still to get through until she would know whether she had succeeded with her proposals or not.

Hermione shut herself in her office and pulled her Transfiguration work towards her in the hopes that some spell-work would distract her. It didn't, and she shoved it away in frustration. She couldn't help but think it would be a blow if they were rejected completely—to Hogwarts, and indeed, to her own pride. It would be her personal failure—an irrational way of looking at it, perhaps, but it would be personal for her. Would Snape, and indeed, Minerva, wish they'd got someone else to do it?

Hermione stood up suddenly to rid her herself of her thoughts. It would do no good to worry over it, well, at least until later on, anyway. She looked at her watch and was disgusted to see that she'd only wasted half an hour since Snape left—it seemed to her that time was moving inexorably slowly.

Marking work was definitely off the agenda as it would be a constant reminder; so, what could she do to pass the time? Even the library didn't have its usual appeal. She couldn't pester Minerva for a chat, either, as the older woman had gone to Diagon Alley.

Standing at the window and looking out across the grounds, it was a lovely spring day, she decided. Maybe she should try her luck outside? Perhaps a visit to Hagrid would be a good idea.

Mind made up, Hermione descended through several floors, before exiting the castle in the direction of Hagrid's hut. She stood on the step and knocked briskly on the door for a short moment. Nothing—there was no reply, and indeed, as she listened, there was no sound to be heard at all inside.

Hermione frowned in frustration and began walking aimlessly around the grounds, steering clear of the Whomping Willow and the lake, where many of the remaining students were amusing themselves. It really was a lovely day; the sun shone pleasantly, adding warmth that was rare for spring weather in Scotland.

As she came around to the front of the castle, Hermione decided that it might be nice to get a book and sit on the grass for a bit. There was no one around to bother her so she could settle down quite comfortably.

Not a textbook—she'd already tried and failed in that respect, but, maybe a novel would prove more absorbing. Removing her robe, Hermione draped it on the grass and whipped out her wand to Summon a book from her rooms. It wasn't a coincidence that, from her vantage point on the gently sloping grass, Hermione had a clear view of the gates. She would know immediately when Snape returned and would be able to, in a manner of speaking, pounce on him straightaway.

Soon, her book whizzed into her lap and Hermione opened it. It was a book her mother had given to her on her last visit home—a Muggle, thriller novel—the kind which her mother devoured on a regular basis.

A swift reader, Hermione was soon sucked into the plot, only stopping now and again to recast a Cushioning charm on the ground beneath her. When Hermione finally did hear the gates swing open and clang shut, it came as a bit of a surprise. A glance at her wrist informed her that Snape was back earlier than he'd said he would be. Was that a good sign or not?

The calm that had descended on her as she'd sat and read, evaporated as quickly as it had come. She peered discreetly from under her eyelashes in Snape's direction and saw by the way he had veered off the path that he had noticed her.

He seemed to be taking an age to reach her, though, and in her nervousness, Hermione wondered if she could stop herself from running towards him and demanding to know what had occurred at the meeting. However, she managed to close her book and make a show of casually putting it to one side—a perfect study in nonchalance; well, she hoped so, anyway.

He finally came to a stop beside her and Hermione could no longer contain herself. 'Well?' she asked hesitantly.

'Well, what?' he answered, with a blank expression.

Hermione huffed and stood up, not wanting to have to keep craning her neck. 'Don't play silly-beggars with me; you know perfectly well what I am on about.'

Snape allowed himself a smirk. 'Very well; all members agreed that improvements should be made to update the current syllabus and had no issues with the ideas you put forward. As for the extra classes...'

Hermione thought she might expire from the anticipation; did he have to be so languid about it?

'Some governors were very particular about dragging their heels over the idea. Indeed, they were rather vociferous about it, but eventually a majority decision was reached to allow the classes to go ahead.'

Her mouth dropped open. 'Really?'

Snape nodded, looking faintly amused.

Hermione was suddenly overcome with a swell of happiness, and she wanted to throw her arms around the man next to her, but something held her in check.

However, her excitement needed to have an outlet somewhere, so she grabbed onto his forearm, shook it repeatedly, and exclaimed, 'I am so pleased! I can't believe it!'

'Evidently,' remarked Snape, looking at his arm in disdain.

Hermione laughed aloud; even in the face of such achievement, he was still as characteristically reserved as ever, and it only made Hermione want to embrace him all the more. It was a sobering thought, and Hermione breathed deeply.

'Why don't you join me and tell me all about it?' she offered, a large part of her expecting him to decline.

He looked down at the grass calculatingly, before raising his eyes to their surroundings. Hermione had an idea of what was giving him pause.

'There are no students about,' commented Hermione airily as she settled herself back down. 'Most of them are paddling down in the lake.'

Finally, he sat down next her appearing extremely put upon, and Hermione hid a smile.

'What are you doing out here, anyway?' he asked as he shrugged his arms out his robe, letting it spread out on the grass. His legs were stretched out before him and, to Hermione, he seemed a vivid contrast of black and white colours.

'Just felt like enjoying a beautiful day,' Hermione replied, omitting the fact that she'd been driven outside by her anxiety. 'So, was it a really close call, the final decision?'

'No, I don't think so. There were a couple who were affronted, simply on the principle that they saw no point whatsoever in the subject to begin with. They said I was turning into another "Muggle-loving Dumbledore," but generally they were all impressed with your work.'

Hermione flushed deeply. 'I couldn't have done it without your help,' she protested.

'I hardly did anything,' dismissed Snape.

'No, you only had to present the idea–'

Snape cut her off with a swift glance. 'We could volley this back and forth all day.'

'Probably,' agreed Hermione, and she moved to lie down, feeling unaccountably relieved at their success. 'This means I get to go on a spending spree to replenish the Muggle Studies stock room, doesn't it?'

Snape snorted. '"Spending spree"? I'll want every Sickle accounted for, and if I find a payment to Madam Malkin or Twilfitt and Tatting's on the Hogwarts account, there'll be trouble.'

'As if I would do that!' said Hermione. 'You know, it's a real shame Muggle technology doesn't work at Hogwarts. Isn't there any way around it?' Hermione raised herself up on her elbows and looked at him enquiringly.

'Well, the only way without an electricity source is to modify the object with magic.' He turned to her slightly. 'As you know, that type of thing is tightly controlled by the Ministry, so you would have to go through them.'

Hermione sighed. 'It kind of defeats the object by getting them to run on magic, doesn't it? Although, really, I don't think even magic is enough. Take a mobile phone, we might be able to get it to switch on, but there's no way we'd get a signal up here, and the same goes for radios and televisions.' Hermione relaxed back onto the ground again, her thoughts focused on deciding whether it would be worth modifying some Muggle objects.

The sound of the gates opening, and of an accompanying groan beside her, attracted her attention, and Hermione sat up to see who had been the cause of it.

'Did you know Potter was planning on paying a visit?' asked Snape, in a disgruntled voice.

Hermione felt him tense beside her and she wondered if he would leap to his feet. She shook her head. 'No—not at all.'

Harry had spotted them and was making his way briskly across the grass. Hermione could tell that he was a bit thrown to see them sitting there from the way his eyes shifted between herself and Snape.

'Any particular reason for your trespassing, Potter?' questioned Snape calmly.

'Harry, what a pleasant surprise!' put in Hermione with a wide smile.

'Hello, Hermione,' returned Harry. 'I have something I wanted to talk to you about, Snape; I heard you were at the Ministry today, and I hoped to catch you then, but you'd already left.'

'What is it, now?'

'Rita Skeeter's been sniffing around again.'

Snape cursed under his breath. 'What does that old hag want now?'

Hermione listened to the conversation in confusion.

'Same as before—I told her where to go, but I don't know how much longer she'll accept the brush off. I'm afraid she might start preying on someone else, who might be more easily swayed by a few Galleons.'

Snape sighed. 'Well, there's not a lot I can do until she does actually publish something.'

'She wants to write about you?' asked Hermione.

Harry nodded in disgust. 'She wants to give him the Dumbledore treatment—she even has a title—"Severus Snape: Scoundrel or Saint?"'.

Hermione looked at Snape in surprise; he scowled in acknowledgement.

'It's, ah, partly my fault in the first place…' added Harry sheepishly.

'Indeed,' growled Snape.

Hermione knew they were referring to what Harry had revealed to everyone as he'd battled Voldemort for the last time, in the Great Hall.

'She's registered as an Animagus now, isn't she?' The question was rhetorical; Hermione knew for sure that she was.

Harry nodded grimly before changing the subject. 'How did it go at the Ministry then, Hermione?'

Hermione grinned. 'Perfectly! Can you believe it?'

'Of course I can!' laughed Harry. 'Since when do you fail at anything you set your mind to?'

'Well, she has yet to make a sufficient Girding potion,' offered Snape helpfully.

'Severus!' exclaimed Hermione aghast. 'You promised you wouldn't ever mention that!' She felt her cheeks blush slightly at the memory of that disastrous day.

'Oops.'

Hermione huffed, trying to appear more put out than she actually felt.

Harry cleared his throat. 'I'm glad I caught you actually, Hermione. There's something I've, ah, been meaning to speak to you about. I can't now as my lunch break will be over soon, and I need to be back at the Ministry. Can you pop by Grimmauld Place later?'

'Sure,' agreed Hermione, a little surprised at the request.

'See you later then; Snape,' Harry acknowledged, before turning to walk back down to the Apparition point.

A comfortable silence descended between the two of them after Harry departed, and Hermione let her attentions wander to her companion, oddly fascinated by silly little things, like the way the ends of his necktie fluttered in the gentle breeze, or the way his hand sometimes picked absent-mindedly at the grass.

Hermione turned her gaze in the opposite direction, feeling not a little foolish—she was easily fascinated these days, it seemed.

'What's wrong with Carrington?' asked Hermione, referring to the young boy she could see scuttling shiftily towards the main doors of the castle behind them.

The boy was clearly sopping wet.

Snape turned to look, first behind, and then in the direction of the lake from where Carrington had appeared. 'Here comes trouble—Dobbs is a bully; I bet he bloody pushed the poor sod into the lake.'

Hermione grimaced as she noticed a small gang of boys approach. 'You're probably right.'

'I'm going to go and speak to them,' he said as he gathered up his robe. 'I'll see you later.'

He was soon striding off into the castle and Hermione was left staring into the space he had vacated, wondering how she could go from feeling so happy to all of a sudden being decidedly deflated. She collapsed back onto the grass completely and closed her eyes.

Evidently she'd lost her mind somewhere down the road.

At six o'clock that evening, Hermione arrived on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.

'All right, Harry?' asked Hermione brightly, when he opened the door.

'Hello, Hermione; sorry about making you come all the way here,' said Harry as he ushered her in and led her to the kitchen.

'Where's Ginny?'

'Out with a friend,' was Harry's response.

Hermione detected a rather shifty note in Harry's tone, and looked at him speculatively as they sat at the table. 'What's this about, Harry?'

Harry avoided her gaze. 'Tea?'

Hermione nodded slowly and wrapped her hands around the warm mug that was shortly handed to her. 'So?' prompted Hermione, somewhat impatiently.

Harry sighed deeply from the opposite side of the table. 'Look, Hermione, I really hope I'm doing the right thing here, but you are one of my best friends so I can't keep quiet.'

'What, Harry? You're worrying me now.'

Harry appeared to be preparing himself for what he was about to say. Eventually, he opened his mouth. 'It's, well, it's about you and Snape.'

Hermione stared dumbly at Harry for several moments. Of all the things that she'd expected him to say, that had featured absolutely nowhere.

Harry looked back evenly at her.

'What,' began Hermione, trying to keep her voice level, 'what exactly is it about Severus and me that you wish to discuss?'

Harry fiddled with adjusting his glasses as he spoke. 'Well, there's nothing going on between you, is there?'

Hermione's mouth dropped open in amazement. 'What is it with everyone asking me this? I don't even know where you are getting this idea! Tell me, do I unconsciously salivate at the mouth when he's near? Or, perhaps you've seen us in some suggestive clinches that, strangely, I am as yet unaware of!'

Harry raised his hands in a gesture of calm. 'Hermione, I didn't mean… I just, I couldn't help noticing today–'

'Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry—we are friends; we were just talking!'

'It's not just that,' stated Harry defensively. 'The morning after the party, Ron's girlfriend came down to breakfast, and while we were talking about what a good night it'd been, she casually announced that "Hermione's a dark horse, isn't she? Cosying up to a man twice her age".'

Hermione's mouth fell open and she flushed with fury. 'What a cow! Who is she to cast aspersions?'

'I know, Hermione, believe me, and normally I wouldn't have taken a blind bit of notice, except that I caught the expression on Ginny's face—and it was decidedly pleased. In the end, she told me what you'd talked about.'

Hermione rubbed a hand over her face dejectedly. She should have known Ginny wouldn't be able to keep from blabbing to Harry. 'So, what do you want to tell me, Harry? Are you disgusted? Shocked? Or what?'

Harry was silent for a moment. 'No, you know how I feel about Snape now. I won't deny that I find it rather unorthodox, but it worries me for a different reason, Hermione.'

'Why?' asked Hermione quietly.

'Has he given you any idea that he… feels the same way?'

Hermione couldn't believe she was having this conversation with Harry, of all people. 'No,' she replied defensively, 'but it's not as if we've ever spoken about it.'

Harry looked at her earnestly. 'I don't want you to get hurt, Hermione. You… you know about Snape and my mother, of course.'

'Of course—who doesn't?' said Hermione tightly.

'Hermione, I never really told you about everything I saw in Snape's memories that night, not the details, anyway. Have you considered that he might still be in love with her?'

Hermione felt the blood freeze in her veins. 'I'm not... I don't really–' Hermione took a deep breath. 'Do you think he still is?'

'He told Dumbledore he'd always love her,' began Harry gently, his voiced tinged with regret. 'Hermione, I saw a completely different man in that Pensieve; everything he ever did for the last twenty years was for her—not for me, Dumbledore, or even himself, but her. He consistently fooled Voldemort motivated by her memory, and I don't need to remind you of what his last words were in the Shrieking Shack that night. I just... I don't think it can be ignored.'

Hermione sat, completely frozen at Harry's words.

'Hermione, after what Ginny told me, I had to say something before it was too late. I care about you, and I don't want to see you unhappy. I know you wouldn't want to be a, well, a replacement for her. '

Hermione aroused herself from her daze and blinked back the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. A replacement—did Harry really think that would happen? Was that all she was good for?

'It's fine, Harry; I'm glad you told me, like you said, before it was too late. Thank you, I ah, I should be going, though,' choked out Hermione as she pushed back from the kitchen table, and walked as quickly as possible towards the door.

'Hermione, are you all right?'

'Yes, fine. I just need to get back to Hogwarts now.' Her breath hitched as she spoke, and she nearly broke out into a run down the hallway to the front door.

'Hermione, wait–'

'Please, Harry, just leave me be.'

Hermione closed the door behind her and rather recklessly Apparated back to Hogwarts. She landed unsteadily and grabbed onto the gates for support, feeling physically sick—and she knew it wasn't from the Apparition.

She let her forehead rest against the cool iron of the gate and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. What had she got herself into? How could she have let this happen? She'd known that Lily Evans had been the love of his life—how could she have let herself believe that she actually had a chance? Harry clearly thought that, in Snape's eyes, she would never compare to his childhood friend.

'Stupid, stupid girl,' Hermione repeated to herself.

As soon as she'd realised she was starting to have feelings for him, Hermione knew she should have tried to distance herself, yet she'd actively sought him out and let herself get completely sucked in.

Harry had asked if she had any reason to believe Snape felt the same way. Well, did she? That night at the party, when he'd kissed her hand, had played repeatedly in her mind since, and before this moment she might have interpreted it as a sign. Now, however, Hermione couldn't believe how pathetic she was. So he'd kissed her hand—as far as romantic overtures went it was hardly a declaration. He'd probably just been grateful for the fact that she'd listened to him talk... for being his friend.

Hermione felt the tears prick at her eyes once more, and she stubbornly swiped at them. As she wrenched open the gates, she suddenly felt a bubble of resentment rise up within her. Why did Harry have to bring this up now? She had been so happy this morning, and now, she just felt… defeated.

Breathing a long, shuddering breath, she began walking towards the castle. Harry really did have her best interests at heart, but despite what Harry thought, Hermione knew that it was too late. The damage had already been done.

What should she do now? There was no way she could face Snape yet, or anyone else for that matter. Then a thought struck her; if Harry and Ginny had noticed something between herself and Snape during the brief time they had seen them together, did that mean that half the castle had noticed it as well? Perhaps Minerva, or Dumbledore's portrait, were biding their time to have a pitying conversation about how she was wasting her time on a man who would never love anyone else. Her insides contracted painfully with embarrassment.

The castle appeared to be deserted, and Hermione was grateful that she met no one as she walked quickly to her rooms. All she wanted was to dive under her bedclothes and stay there.

Once inside, she sat unmoving on her bed for several moments, marvelling at the mess she'd got herself into. She felt unaccountably foolish as she thought on it. What on earth should she do? Her mind was a frustrating blank.

Something caught her eye on her bedside table, and Hermione reached for it—it was a letter from her mother. Her parents. Maybe that would be the answer—to put some distance between herself, the castle, and its occupants for a few days. A change of scene in which to reflect and sort herself out.

Without thinking twice, Hermione pulled her trunk across the floor and began tossing clothes, books, and parchments inside it. A stay with her parents would surely do her good. She hadn't formally requested the leave, but it wasn't as if she had any special responsibilities to uphold while the students were away.

Hermione spelled her trunk to shrink, and she shoved it inside her pocket before giving her rooms the once-over to ensure she hadn't forgotten anything. Satisfied, she stepped out into the corridor and made sure her door was completely locked. She would have to stop by her office to retrieve some books, and then, well, she would have to inform someone she was leaving. Hermione knew that technically it should be Snape, but the thought of seeing him made her feel queasy. It would have to be Minerva, then; it was, perhaps, cowardly of her to avoid Snape, and indeed, rather unfair as he hadn't done anything wrong, but Hermione didn't have the energy to wrestle with her conscience.

After a detour to her office, Hermione stopped outside Minerva's rooms, praying to anyone who was listening that the older woman was inside. Hermione did not want to have to risk looking in staff room. Luck was on her side, and the bespectacled woman smiled warmly to see her, readily inviting her in.

'Congratulations, Hermione, on your recent success! I knew you could do it!'

Hermione smiled wanly.

'We will have to have a little celebration after, don't you think?' trilled Minerva, with a wink. She indicated for Hermione to sit, but Hermione remained standing.

'Minerva,' began Hermione, trying to sound as normal as possible, 'I've decided to go to my parents for, ah, for a few days. I'm sorry for the late notice; I hope it's not going to be a problem?'

Minerva shook her head slowly. 'No, that's all right. Are you going now—tonight? Is there something wrong?'

Hermione plastered a casual expression on her face. 'I am going now, yes, and everything is fine, I assure you.'

'My dear, are you sure? You don't need to leave now, do you; it's very sudden. What about our celebration?'

Hermione thought she might break down if Minerva carried on looking at her in that concerned way. 'Really, Minerva, I'm sorry, but I must be off now. I will owl you soon.'

She began backing out of the room, but all of a sudden the fireplace glowed green, and she stared at it in morbid fascination. She knew who was going to step out of it—she would have bet here entire salary on it. She should have known it wouldn't be this easy.

'Here's the book you wanted, Minerva.'

'Thank you; now, Severus, maybe you can persuade Hermione, here, to hang on before leaving for her parents'.'

Hermione felt herself become hot and cold all at once as the man in question turned to look at her questioningly.

'I had not realised she was leaving us,' he answered quietly.

Hermione was alarmed to find herself begin to tremble slightly, and she quickly clasped her hands together to mask it.

'I'm sorry, I must go.' To her own ears her voice sounded unsteady, and she opened the door, fighting all her urges to run. Would he follow her? When his voice rang out down the hall a moment later, she had her answer. He called her name and she froze, but did not turn around. She could sense that he was standing only a few paces behind.

'Hermione, you never said you were going. Is anything wrong?'

She couldn't bring herself to speak. What was there to say?

'Did Potter have bad news for you?'

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione had turned around to face him.

'Professor Snape, it's really none of your business.'

He stared down at her expressionlessly, but Hermione saw his eyes flicker and she immediately wished she could take her words back. He said nothing and whirled around to stalk off back down the corridor, leaving Hermione watching helplessly after him.

Now she really did feel like being sick. What an utter cow she was to say such a thing to him—she'd probably just selfishly spoiled whatever measure of friendship they'd formed over the past few months. Her heart heavy, Hermione exited the castle, uncaring that this time a tear did manage to spill down her cheek.

Well done, my girl, she thought ironically, you've actually managed to make yourself feel ten times worse.

AN: Thanks for reading!