Chapter 9
Hermione jerked awake at the noise, her heart hammering in her chest; fingers already gripping her wand as her damp clothes hung to her. Her brown eyes were scanning the room as her ears continued listening for any additional disturbances; only to hear none. However, it was too late; she was awake. And as she began to wonder whether it was a noise that had awoken her; but…the tremors in her lower back and upper arms said otherwise. As did the last vestiges of Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix's voice…and she fought off a shudder as her stomach clenched and twisted.
So much for the noise, she thought as she flung the covers from her sweaty body. Needing to get up, to stretch, and dispel of the last of her nightmare. A nightmare that had been plaguing her with greater frequency, one she unfortunately realized was directly correlated to her no longer being absolutely exhausted.
She turned on the lights in her room; her unease immediately dissipating at seeing objects from her past. Over a thousand books shoved onto the three book cases that lined her wall opposite of her bed; two framed daily prophets that had captured both Dumbledore and McGonagall in separate but blazing duels; her Hogwarts letter; and a sundry of other items…each one bringing another layer of comfort.
With blind efficiency, she moved through her childhood house as she made her way downstairs. And as she passed the foyer, she felt another weight ease in her stomach as she had been awoken by a noise.
The delivery of her Daily Prophet. With a subtle flick of her wand, the paper jumped into her hand; and she undid the binding as she stepped into the kitchen absently flicking on her coffee pot. She skimmed the front page, noting Harry's defeat of Voldemort was making still front page news; in the corner though it remarked that today marked the last of the funerals.
She found herself gazing at the names, only one student was to be buried today; a Ravenclaw. Marion Masterson, a sixth year. Of the other three; two were middle aged wizards and the third, Severus Snape.
Severus Snape.
Her Professor and ultimately the man who had helped to save Harry and the wizarding world by committing a self sacrifice for the very people who loathed him. She, being one of them. And…she felt…awful for it.
How could they have doubted him so much? And by doing so, doubted Dumbledore?
And…what did McGonagall…Minerva a stray brain cell corrected, think of him? His actions? Hers and how they related to him?
Did she know what Dumbledore had planned? And if so, why did she cast a flurry of spells after Snape?
The annoying beep signaling the coffee had finished brewing; however, as she poured herself a cup, her thoughts remaining fixed upon Snape and his actions over the years, it was apparent her ruminations were far from being finished on the topic.
Xoxo
A/N: Yes, a cup of frozen Butterbeer tastes really good. Yes, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts look authentic, especially at night. Yes, there are exceedingly long lines. Yes, the three broomsticks is worth the wait. And yes, my trip to Universal and Harry Potter may have caused a delay in posting to Bonding. As Hagrid used to say; ' Sorry, 'bout that.'