A/N: I had ceased to make promises about my updating schedule a long time ago, lol. But I'm really thankful to everyone who reads my work despite the delay and encourage me to keep updating. :)
Summary of the last chapter: Slughorrn gets mysteriously poisoned, and dies. Severus realises that it must have been Draco, trying to kill Dumbledore—which might also have been his task all along. He shares as much with Hermione.
Enjoy!
Chapter 36: Frozen
The following week was exceptionally gloomy. Most of the Professors wore black in mourning. The curtains in the Great Hall, too, were changed to black. Potions remained suspended for the week. Professor McGonagall took classes but asked students to read the text in silence. The other Professors, too, could not devote as much energy or will into teaching. Professor Flitwick who had been a close friend looked very aggrieved and once even began talking about his friendship with Professor Slughorn with the students.
In the Hospital Wing, during Hermione's shifts, quite a few young students came to ask for a Calming Draught, alarmed by a death in the castle. They were only told about a vague accident taking place, the details were not shared with the students. Thus, most of them had assumed the involvement of Death Eaters. Rumours of some Death Eaters having penetrated the castle, and killed the Professor were galloping around.
But Hermione did tell Harry that they suspected Draco Malfoy to be behind an attempt to kill the Headmaster. She did not tell him about Professor Snape's Unbreakable Vow, though.
Although Professor Snape had been his usual self in class, he was a changed man in private. That week, Hermione had spent a Monday and a Wednesday with him due to the lack of classes. He had hardly spoken. It was not because of Professor Slughorn's death, but because of the prospect of having to kill his employer in near future that troubled him.
Hermione knew not much about his relationship with the Headmaster. But killing one close to him must be beyond dreadful. And the Professor did not believe in sharing what was bothering him the most. Hermione did try to talk, but she was rather rudely discouraged to.
He was extremely distressed.
"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey poked her head inside the storeroom where the younger witch was noting the potions they needed. "Are you done?"
"Almost, Ma'am," she replied, holding up the notepad.
"Good. Finish this and come out. We need to start on your Gait Training and Physiotherapy from today," the Medi-witch told her. "I have a lot many tests to run on you before we start."
"From today?" Hermione frowned.
"It's the Eighth, remember?"
"Oh, I had completely forgotten," Hermione sighed.
"That is understandable, Dear. But we must remember that life cannot stop," the lady said gently.
How strange, Hermione thought, that for Professor Snape, life had indeed taken a pause since joining the Order as a spy.
"Yes, Ma'am," she replied. Madam Pomfrey gave her a kind smile and closed the door.
Having devoted his years into taking up a profession he did not enjoy. Later, returning to serve a former master whom he despised. And then, getting bonded to her for life and having to give up any hope of acquiring any normalcy in his life even after the war. And now—he had no choice but to help another Death Eater to kill Albus Dumbledore. His employer. Maybe a friend, too. He was bound by way more bonds than she could understand.
And here she was, having tried to take her life when this man had never given up, even after decades of enduring torment.
UUUUUUU
Severus was pacing down Albus' office. He could see that his movements were irking the old wizard, but he could not care less.
"Have you even given it a thought!" Severus hissed. "Or are you quite content with the way things have turned!"
"I have too many things to think about right now, my boy. Of what do you refer to?" He asked calmly.
"Do not play riddles!" Severus huffed. "Draco Malfoy wants to kill you. And I must aid him!"
"Ah, that," Albus leaned back. "I still have to think of that."
"Albus!" Severus came to stand before his desk, his fists clenched.
"Do sit down, my boy," his employer smiled politely. "There are other matters that I need to discuss with you."
"More pressing that the sword looming over our heads?" Severus said acerbically.
"What time demands right now," Albus amended. "Neither is young Mr. Malfoy going to succeed so soon, nor are you expected to give a hand to him immediately. Because officially, Severus, you are not aware of the task Riddle has set for Mr. Malfoy."
"Do you even realise, you senile man, that had you consumed the poisonous mead, the curse in your hand would have sent you into a coma, if not killed you with immediate effect!" Severus lost his cool.
Albus chuckled. "Senile, yes. I suppose, I am getting towards that."
"Do you think it's a bloody joke, Headmaster!" Severus hissed. "I am expected to aid Draco in killing you. Doing which, I will-"
"-have your position strengthened for life besides Tom," Albus interrupted.
"Yes, for life. Even after the war is ended, I will be considered a vile murderer!" Severus slammed a hand on the table.
"It pleases me to hear from you of a future that you see for yourself after the war," Albus smiled, much to Severus' chagrin. "You have never been that optimistic."
That had Severus speechless. He never had imagined to outlive the war. "I am only stating a possibility." He did not even want to outlive the war. Or did he? No, that notion was absurd. He would die in the war, or way before it.
And claim Granger's life, as well?
No, well... He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Even so," the old wizard interrupted his thoughts. "We will ruminate over it later. For now, I truly do have pressing matters to discuss. Please, take a seat."
Severus huffed in irritation and sat down.
"I wish to give you your position as a Potions Professor back," Albus said.
"What will I tell the Dark Lord?" Severus asked disinterestedly. Defence or Potions, he loathed to teach.
"The truth," Albus said simply. "There is no reason to weave more lies than necessary. If he punishes Mr. Malfoy for his failure, he might come to you for help on his own. That would be benefitting for us."
"How easy it is for you to admit that the Dark Lord would punish a minor," Severus muttered.
"In the path of the greater good, Severus, some-"
"Save your breath," Severus held up his hand, having heard the nebulous explanation more times than he cared to remember. "I will tell him the truth."
"I have also considered somebody for the position of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor-"
"If you say Moody, I will revisit my dinner on your expense carpet, Headmaster," Severus muttered.
"-Remus," Albus announced.
"I might revisit my lunch as well, it seems," Severus cursed under his breath.
"Come now, Severus, we have nobody else to fill up the position," Albus reasoned.
"Having a Werewolf for the second time on the staff, after a supposed Death Eater, a deranged Ministry toad, a half-lunatic, obsessed fraud and the Dark Lord himself, not to mention a half-Giant and a Centuar, I wonder what the Minister has to say," Severus said sardonically.
"An imposter, too, you are forgetting," Albus chuckled. "I have already talked to Rufus Scrimgeour and Remus, both."
"How very fascinating to know," Severus did not hide his disdain. "When am I supposed to resume my position as a Potions Professor?"
"From Monday," Albus replied.
"Another menace to handle," Severus commented. "Do be ready for all the howlers incensed parents will be sending your way, Albus."
"They should appreciate that their children will not remain untrained in a subject," Albus had a simple response.
I would rather keep my child illiterate than send them to this eccentric institution! He reflected, then winced at the bizarreness of the thought. "Anything else you wish to discuss or can I relieve myself of your excruciating company?" Severus said coldly.
"Bear me for a little longer, my boy. There is this matter of the upcoming Order meeting that I wished to discuss."
"It cannot be on a weekend," Severus declared.
"What would you suggest, Severus?" Albus asked.
"A Wednesday," he answered.
"Why?"
"Because I hold a special fondness for the days starting with a 'W', which is unfortunately only one," Severus could hardly keep from accompanying his statement with an eye roll. "No reason, Albus. It is just a weekday and I will, most probably, not be summoned." Not that he was being summoned, anyway.
"Very well, then," Albus was amused. "The coming Wednesday, then?"
"The sooner the better."
"I will have a word with Minerva and confirm. There was one other matter, Severus," Albus said. "Harry is wanting to join the Order officially, now that I am letting Miss Granger join."
"Tell him how drastically the two differ in their mental capabilities and level of maturity," Severus said, bored.
"But I believe he has been helping you two with your task?"
"Yes."
"Wouldn't it be more beneficial, Severus, if I let Harry in the open?" Albus asked.
"This, I assume, is a matter better discussed with your Deputy," he said.
"I only wanted your opinion, Severus."
"He is daft and dim-witted. But he can keep a secret and offered to help Granger and me," Severus stated.
"A yes, then?" Albus asked.
"I simply do not care," the Potions Master stated coldly.
"And young Mr. Weasley?"
"The boy is a menace. Good for nothing in my eyes, but I have been told that he can prove to be a competent strategist in time. Do not expect that the boy will be kept in the dark if you let the Potter boy in. Weasley will be informed of the meetings at length," Severus concluded.
"And Miss Granger?" Albus inquired.
"She was made an unofficial member long back," he returned.
"But what do you think?"
"Granger is an asset," Severus said in brief. "She is more than deserving to officially become an Order member."
"It is almost surprising to find what a high opinion you hold of her," Albus' eyes twinkled madly.
"I have worked with her long enough to assess her," he said simply.
"I am glad that you two can see each other as competent allies, after all."
Competent allies, indeed. Severus snorted mentally, but without a hint of malice.
UUUUUUU
Hermione could not believe that only a week ago, on the last Saturday, she had gone to Hogsmeade. With Professor Snape! It must have been the most exciting day so far.
And today, a week later, again on a Saturday, she was making her way through the glum dungeons to meet a sullen Professor who was repulsive to talk.
How will I ever get this stubborn, stubborn man to talk! She huffed to herself.
As Hermione rounded a corner, she was face to face with Malfoy, who in his hurry stopped merely an inch from colliding with Hermione's Chair. The two stared at each other for a moment. Malfoy, to Hermione, seemed rather pale, as if sick. His eyes were dull, and if she observed closely, perhaps even a little red on the edges.
Was he crying?
Since Professor Slughorn's demise, she had often found herself wondering about Malfoy. Was he actually feeling guilty? Could a mistake that impressionable change him? Was there still a chance?
"Look who we have here, no-leg-Mudblood."
Hermione closed her eyes and erected her Occlumency Shields up, expelling all sympathetic thoughts about Malfoy from her mind. No matter what, people like him seldom deserved sympathy.
"No bodyguards today, Malfoy?" She tried to imitate Ron's tone when he addressed the blonde.
"Well, you are the one roaming in my territory unarmed," he smirked, fingering her wand.
"You're quite possessive of your marked territory, yes? I didn't realise how you resembled to a dog," Hermione snorted bitterly.
His smirk turned into a scowl. "It seems to me like Snape has yet to teach you how to treat your betters, Mudblood."
"I know exactly how to treat my betters, Malfoy," she said with deliberate softness. "You are not one."
"I am a Pureblood, you bitch," he hissed. "I will always be-"
"Your father is in Azkaban, your mother useless to...the Dark Lord. And you," Hermione rolled her eyes, "You, Malfoy, are just a ferret with a bragging mouth." Then, she had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. Malfoy's face was red with anger, his pale cheeks attaining a deeper crimson as he clenched his teeth.
"So go, prove yourself to the Dark Lord before coming and pestering me. Until then, don't you try to harm me. Right now, I'm way more important to the Dark Lord than you, with your sorry...arse!"
"Mudblood, you will-"
"-pay for it?" She rolled her eyes again. "Give these empty threats to those who care about them. I am too busy to be bothered by you."
"Of course, going to take a good fucking from Snape, eh?"
His words ignited Hermione's temper and his derisive smirk only added to her store of fury. She moved her Chair forward, looked directly into his eyes. "Shut. Up."
She did not intend to turn her words into a curse, but when Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, they both discovered that he couldn't. He lips were stuck together. In another situation, she might have found his efforts to part his lips almost ludicrous. But right now, she was fuming.
"Good. Give that tongue of yours a rest," she said icily. When he aimed his wand at her, she snorted again. "You cannot perform Non-verbals effectively yet, remember?"
With that, she turned her Chair around, wishing she could manage the cloak stunt like Professor Snape, and made her way towards the man's office.
She could not quite say if the explosive nature of her magic in her fury was a gift or a curse. But she was satisfied with what she had done to Malfoy, and Dolohov, too, that night.
Hermione let her Shields fall. Some time ago, Malfoy's words, among other things, had forced her to attempt to take her own life. She was a little proud ot herself, and surprised, that his words had not affected her as adversely as they had, earlier.
Hermione knocked on the Professor's office door. "Enter," the cold permission came almost immediately. She got inside and closed the door behind herself.
"You are late." He announced. For a change, his desk was empty. Nothing laid before him, no essays, no journals, no books, nothing. What was he even doing.
"I encountered Malfoy," she told him.
"You en- Are you injured?" He asked, alarmed.
"No. But he might be," she shrugged, moving her Chair to settle opposite him, by the desk.
"What?" He frowned. "What did you do?"
"Nothing intentionally," she said. "But remember what happened to Dolohov that night?"
"Draco's eyes?" His frown deepened.
"No, just his lips," Hermione said casually, not feeling any remorse whatsoever.
"Granger, would you elaborate," he demanded.
"He said something I didn't like, so my magic decided he shouldn't talk for some time," she shrugged.
"What did he say?" He inquired.
"I cannot tell you that, Sir," Hermione responded, looking away.
"Granger," he said warningly.
"Sorry, I cannot tell you," she repeated. "Malfoy would soon come to you running, anyway. Ask him, if he doesn't brag about it himself."
"Did anyone else witness the exchange?" He asked.
"No," she replied. "Also, I made it quite clear to him
that right now, I'm way more important to Riddle than he is. So he won't dare to try anything on me. He deserved what he got."
He raised a brow. "Sometimes, Granger, you absolutely leave character."
"I have quite a diverse personality, Sir," she snorted.
"Indeed," he confirmed.
"Did you talk to Professor Dumbledore about..." She bit her lip.
"Yes," he said slowly, releasing a deep breath. "The Headmaster is, let us say, ruminating over the matter."
"And you?" She asked carefully. "You asked me to talk about whatever is bothering me. Wouldn't you apply the same to yourself, Sir?"
"There is nothing to talk about, Granger," he said dismissively.
"It is weighing heavily on you and I cannot ignore that," she said simply.
"It is not for the first time that I find myself stuck in a dilemma of this nature," he responded. "I have dealt with situations in the past."
"But this time, Sir, you don't have to bear the burden alone. I might not be the best person to talk to, but I do understand the gravity of the situation at hand."
"I..." He hesitated, "Appreciate your offer."
Maybe that was the best she was going to get. She nodded, "I just want to say that I'm open to conversation, if you ever feel like talking."
He looked ill at ease, clearly not in a habit of sharing his concerns. Hermione decided not to push or she ran the risk of ruining their gradually developing relationship of trust, as well. She rather embarked on other matters. "I was wondering, Sir, whether these outbursts of my magic is an advantage or..."
"That depends on how you implement it," he replied. "Your bouts are governed by your temperament. Take the instance of Dolohov. Before the Dark Lord, you pretended to have less than satisfactory capabilities at magic. Had Dolohov not been as inebriated as he was, he might have understood who struck him was not I, but you, with your Wandless, Non-verbal use of magic.
"But with Draco, your magic, in a way, became your defence, in not one but two instances. You cannot assess your ability with the glasses of black or white."
"So I don't need to practise controlling it," she said thoughtfully.
"In all honesty, Granger, there is not a known way to control bouts of this nature," he told her. "But you can inquire about the same to Professor Flitwick. He might recommend you a few books or exercises. Although your bouts, I believe, are purely controlled by your temper."
"I always showed quite a temper," she admitted. "But I never knew I possessed a skill like this. It's new for me, too."
"When was the first time you experienced the bout?" He asked.
Hermione bit her lip, she did not want to answer that question for it might open the can of worms. He gave a flex to his eyebrow in question. "When... After the...after that night with my...parents, when I saw you in your house..."
They both looked away in unease. Now that Hermione realised it, they had never truly conversed about that night and the misunderstanding that had followed.
"That night and what followed was your undoing," he remarked. "A simple explanation can be that you had never been more incensed than that ever before."
"I had been impulsive," she admitted.
"No," he said firmly. "Do not apologise for that, Granger. You were well within your rights."
"For all the brains I'm commended for, I guess back then I had taken leave of it," she said slowly. "It's not an apology, Sir. But had I been more understanding, more farsighted, those two months would have been a lot more bearable than they were. For both of us."
"We were both quite unapproachable, yes," he agreed.
"But your neighbours were really helpful," she recalled Mrs. Frost and Mr. Mallard.
"I had not been in touch with the Muggles since leaving for Hogwarts, in my First year," he told her.
"Oh?"
"My Mother was, if I recall correctly, quite close to the lady who runs the bakery," he said. "But it is tough for wizards to blend in with Muggles in most cases. Did you not experience that with your Muggle family and relatives?"
"I don't have many close relatives as such," Hermione told her. "The only family I have-" she paused, "I had...was my parents. Though they were Muggles, they took just as much interest in my life here. I never felt out of place... I, in fact, liked to go back to my roots, my Muggle neighbourhood, my Muggle school. So many of my habits are still Muggle, like I prefer a pen to a quill, cleaning to a Scouring Charm."
"On that, I do agree," he said. "A pen is way more reasonable than a quill."
"I hate the ink stains it leaves on the parchment," she added. "Why is the Wizarding World so afraid to be progressive?"
"They like to keep their culture intact," he answered. "But this rigid outlook is only followed in Europe. If one is to study the American Wizarding culture, one will come across their balance between Muggle and Wizarding style of life, which gives them an upper-hand."
"Have you been to America?" She asked. Suddenly, her eyes fell on a crumpled parchment under the table. He seemed to have followed her gaze for he stepped his booted foot over it.
What's written on the paper? She curiously wondered.
"I had the honour of completing my Mastery from the States," he told her.
"Wow! That would have been great," Hermione was impressed. "I really want to travel the world and study the different cultures, live in different Wizarding communities, meet wizards like Shikoba Wolfe, Johannes Jonker, Thiago Quintana, Violetta Beauvais. It would be an absolute privilege to work with these personalities."
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "Apart from the victory in the war, what is one thing that you wish to achieve in your life, Granger?"
Hermione smiled. She had often considered her goals, often fantasied about how she would achieve her goals. "I want to do something that forever changes the perspective of the Wizarding World about a Muggle-born, Sir. That compels them to re-evaluate their narrow-minded perception of blood status."
"Most witches your age have their minds not even close to these ideas," he commented.
"What do I say, Sir, I think I'm unlike most," she smiled. "When did you finish your Mastery?"
"In 1980, January," he replied. "I returned to England afterwards and formally began serving the Dark Lord."
"Oh, I thought you had begun sometime in school," she said.
"I did, in fact," he told her. "You would be surprised to know that the Dark Lord funded my Mastery."
"What?" And surprised she was. "Why? I mean, why would he?"
"Because he was cognisant to my skills and wanted a Potions Master by his side," the Professor replied simply.
There was no hesitation that Hermione could find in his words. She had not expected him to willingly narrated about his initiation into the coterie of Death Eaters. But it heartened her to think that a man as reserved as Professor Snape would ever put his trust in her.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Judging by your tone, I might not find myself agreeable to answer," he said. "But do ask."
Hermione bit her lip. "When did you decide to change sides?"
For a moment, Hermione saw the light leaving his eyes and dull gloom settled into the deep, dark pits of black, as if a bitter memory had revisited him. But he sobered just as soon. "I realised what a pathetically foolish man I was."
The story went deeper, deeper into his store of memories and touched a corner of his past that inflicted pain. But she decided not to push. God knew if he would ever open to her enough to narrate the tale entangled in the clutches of his agonising past. But when he would—whenever he could—she promised herself to offer a willing ear.
"Oh, I had to ask you...what will happen with our Potions lessons?" She changed the subject, unwilling to increase his discomfort.
"Would you like to wager a guess?" He said, sounding bored.
"You?" She frowned.
"Yes."
"And Defence?" She asked.
"Another guess?"
"Your tone is giving me a feeling that you don't really like this new Professor," she chuckled.
"Must you always be so accurate," he snorted.
"Until it's not Umbridge, I think I will approve of whoever it is," she said, genuinely hoping for it not to be Umbridge. He said nothing, only settled his fingers over his lips, amused.
UUUUUUU
Hermione met with a grinning Harry and an excited Ron in the common room. Laying leisurely on the red chaise, Ron turned to her. "Guess what!" His long legs hung over the arm of the chaise, making him look comical.
"What?" She settled her Chair beside Harry's armchair. "Where's Crooks?"
"Look!" Harry held up a folded parchment.
"What's tha- Woah, Crooksie!" Hermione laughed as Crookshanks leapt out of a corner and jumped on her lap. "Last I checked, you were a cat, not a dog."
"Last I checked it was a Devil you had bought," Ron muttered under his breath. Crookshanks hissed at him.
"Crooks, hush," Hermione brushed her hand through his coat. "And shut up, Ron. Wait, how do you even know about the Devil- Never mind. What were you saying, Harry?"
"Dumbledore has reappointed Remus!" Harry perked up. "I just got his letter!"
"That's great, Harry," Hermione grinned and took the proffered letter from her friend. She skimmed over the words. "He'll be here from Monday onwards. That's amazing."
"Finally, we'll learn something," Ron commented. "Blimey, we'll have Snape back hovering over our cauldrons."
"Well, Snape was honestly better teaching Defence," Harry said. "I mean I'm good at DADA, so he hardly ever got a chance to pick on me. Neville will be really proud of his decision of not opting for Potions in the first place."
Hermione laughed. She agreed. But she was also excited to have the Professor back to teaching Potions. No wonder he was less than happy over the new DADA instructor, she snorted to herself. Harry had briefed them about the rivalry between Professor Snape and the Marauders dating back to their schooldays.
"Oi, Harry, did Dumbledore tell you what had happened with Slughorn?" Ron asked.
"I didn't have any lessons with him since all this happened," Harry replied, his acting smooth.
"Do you think it could be Snape's plot to get his position back?" Ron snorted.
"That's just lame, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Hi, Ron!" Lavender came down from the dormitory. The blush that Hermione had come to compare with a sunburn was evident on the other girl's face, and she wondered if people actually felt that shy when interacting with their crush? Looking at Ron, she found his ears going redder as well, but Ron had the ability to match his face with his hair over anything at all. He sat up as Lavender perched on the arm of the chaise.
"Hey," he said a bit awkwardly.
"Would you come for a walk with me?" She asked sweetly.
"Er..." Ron, on his part, was looking between Lavender and Hermione.
"The weather is really good today," Hermione offered to reduce Ron's awkwardness. "Perfect for a walk."
"Yes, it'll be perfect, Ron," Seamus shouted from
the other end of the common room.
"Later?" Ron tried half-heartedly.
"No, right now!" Lavender almost whined. "Come on, Ron."
"Yeah, go on, Ron!" Dean, too, called.
Hermione deliberately chose that moment to divert her whole attention to Crookshanks in her lap. That small, selfish spark of something akin to longing that flickered every time she saw Lavender and Ron together made Hermione's face fall.
"Er...okay, I guess..." Ron finally relented.
"Great!" Lavender got up and began pulling his arm. "Let's go!"
It was after the red-head had left the common room with Lavender that Hermione sighed.
"You okay?" Harry asked quietly.
"I just wish I could tell him about all this," she rested her back. "I hate to keep him in the dark. But he will never understand."
"You hate Lavender, don't you?" Harry said.
"Of course I don't hate Lavender," she replied. "She's not doing anything that she should not. I mean...she likes Ron, she's approaching him. Just because I can't, doesn't mean somebody else cannot, too."
"You don't have to punish yourself like that, Hermione," he said insistently. "Just tell Ron and you don't have to watch them together and fake a smile."
"Harry, I will have to watch Ron with some girl for the rest of our lives," she said in a low voice, resignedly. "This is...a life-long thing." An image of Ron standing at the altar and reading his vows to a witch behind a veil saddened Hermione.
"Is there no way that you both can be together? No way at all?" He sounded frustrated.
"No," she replied.
"This is so unfair!" He huffed. "You love him so much and... This is shit!"
"I don't know if it's Ron whom I long for, or this is just my reluctance to accept that I can never love anyone," she closed her eyes. "I don't like watching Ron with Lavender... But I don't know if it's because of my feelings for Ron or...my inability to find anything like they might have between themselves, that relationship..."
"Another reason to kill Voldemort," Harry muttered. "Hermione, I...wanted to ask something."
The hesitance told her whatever it was, was not pleasant. "What is it?"
"Er... After the war," he paused. "I mean after Hogwarts and all this chaos, will you still have to stay with...Snape?"
"If I want to live, yes," she said quietly. "It's not so bad with him, Harry. Sometimes I'm almost thankful that Voldemort was not sick enough to bound to me to any other Death Eater of his. I shudder to imagine what it would have been like, not able to tell anyone what's going on with me, to be ordered around, to be...used... Of course, I hate being bound, but it's about finding the silver line... Professor Snape...I can't even start comparing him to the Death Eaters."
"It's so odd to hear someone refer to Snape as decent," Harry murmured.
"He's a nice person. Did I tell you that we went to Hogsmeade together?"
"You what?"
Hermione laughed to see the horrified look on a gapping Harry's face. It was going to be an interesting conversation.
UUUUUUU
"Thank you, Karly," Hermione smiled. The tiny house-elf bowed and helped settle Hermione's feet on the footplates of her Chair.
Madam Pomfrey had assigned Karly for Hermione's Physiotherapy while the Medi-witch herself mostly assisted her with her Gait Training. The elf was very particular about the sessions. Though exhausting at times, the exercises gave Hermione the hope to be on her feet soon. Her Chair was akin to a blessing, with all the mobility and ease it provided. But she could not wait to finally regain the aid of her legs.
As for sensation, she had started to feel her legs, any pain or itching came into her focus. The movements, though, were restricted. Madam Pomfrey had said that by Christmas, her legs would be strong enough to walk on, provided with crutches at first.
Hermione checked her bag and put a small bundle of fresh parchments in before closing it. She briefly wondered if Ron and Harry remembered to finish their Charms essay and rechecked her bag for her own essay.
Everything set, she left her room to go for breakfast. Remus would have come to Hogwarts, she thought. Harry must be so excited. She could barely calm her own excitement, both because Remus was going to be their DADA Professor and Professor Snape was regaining his post as the Potions Professor.
UUUUUUU
Severus started the day with a tad too much grumbling, even for him.
A headache had greeted him early in the morning and only left him after two doses of potions. He left his quarters late deliberately to avoid the meet and greet with Lupin until it was absolutely necessary.
Monday as it was, he had to take five classes continuously, now that he was back to teaching Potions. Horace's lesson plan was so wretched that he felt like burning it! Having students below an O in his class was already infuriating him. That also meant that he would have to ask Granger to see him on Thursdays rather than Wednesdays. That might cause her disruption, too.
He strode to the Great Hall. One or two wayward students who had the misfortune to cross his path were awarded with a point reduction or downright detention. On entering the Great Hall, he could hear the students murmuring something around 'Warewolf' and 'Defence'. He also caught his name in the chaos and ignored it disinterestedly.
Lupin was already seated at the Head Table, in conversation with Minerva and Albus. Severus did not truly care for Lupin as a colleague, until the man actually tried to interact with him. And Lupin found some unexplainable glee in annoying Severus with his chatter. Then there was the issue of the Wolfsbane that Albus had asked Severus to brew every month, now that Lupin had to deal with the students.
He took his usual position beside Minerva, essentially avoiding the Warewolf.
"Severus," Lupin called. "Good to see you."
"At least one of us is," Severus muttered under his breath, giving a terse nod to the other man. His headache was on the verge of relapsing.
He turned to watch the Slytherin table. The students were behaving themselves, albeit gossiping in whispers. Draco was absent. Severus needed to figure out what the boy was exactly planning as his next move.
Rubbing his temples with one hand, he began on scrambled eggs. The food, too, felt tasteless.
"How bad is the hangover?" Minerva whispered.
"Excuse me?" He frowned. "Your temptations are disrupting your better judgement, woman."
"If not hungover, you look terrible, Severus," the witch chuckled. "Oh, were you summoned last night?"
"That would have actually solved a plethora of problems, but no," he replied.
"Order some coffee for yourself," she suggested. "Caffeinated is always better than inebriated."
"I despise coffee," he said dryly.
"Severus," Lupin spoke, "I was wondering if you could spare a little time after breakfast to brief me about what topics you've already covered with the classes yet..."
"Surely, Lupin, the Headmaster sent you my lesson plan," Severus responded disinterestedly. "That should do."
"Yes, but- Alright, but if I face a problem-"
Do not annoy me. "Consult me," he said only audibly enough for the Werewolf to catch.
"Thank you," the Warewolf flashed a lopsided smile. "I am quite apprehensive about how the students will accept me, especially just after what happened to Horace... It must have been traumatising for you to watch him...poisoned, right in front of you."
"Not the first death I witnessed," Severus muttered darkly. His comment left the other man in silence that Severus appreciated. Perhaps dark humour kept Werewolves away.
After the meal, Albus went to stand at the podium. "A very Good Morning to you all." Albus was too cheery for his liking. "You all must be wondering to see an old face among the staff today." Some students spoke in assertion. "I would like to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin back to Hogwarts to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts to all the years!"
Among the applauds from the Gryffindor table, the whispering from the other Houses could be barely heard. Potter, Severus saw, was on his feet. While most of the Gryffindors seemed approving, the Slytherins were wincing in disgust. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were more or less confused.
Albus continued, "Losing Professor Slughorn was a great tragedy. But quoting the Muggle aphorism, 'the show must go on', we must, too, try and resume life as it was."
"Such a great tragedy, really," Pomona mumbled.
"I am delighted to announce that," Albus spoke, "Professor Snape will resume his post as the Potions Professor beginning today."
More murmuring followed, it only enhanced Severus' headache. His eyes fell on Granger who was smiling at him from the Gryffindor table. She quickly sobered when he scowled. The expressions on her face clearly translated to, 'What happened?'
He wondered if he could send a word her way through Legilimency from
that distance like he had in the Malfoy Manor.
He tried, 'In need of another outing, perhaps.'
Her lips quirked into a smile which made him know she had received the message. 'December weekend, remember?'
Merlin forbid, he inwardly muttered and looked away before she could see him smirk.
It was a highly effective way of communication, he thought. But a rather forbidden method, one that was highly unpopular. Telepathy was looked down upon by the wizards. Provided that only those well-versed with Occlumency could manage to form thoughts lucid enough to communicate.
He took the last bite of his meal and realised he indeed was close to smiling as the recollections of their secret visit to Hogsmeade came back to him.
UUUUUUU
"Good morning, class," Professor Lupin greeted the Sixth years with a winsome smile. A few of them replied, mostly the Gryffindors. Slytherins, Hermione noted, were scowling at the man with malice and disdain.
Hermione took her usual place by the last desk that accommodated her Chair. Neville sat bedside her.
"I'm nostalgic," Hermione said. "Third year...it seems so long back."
"Third year only reminds me of Dementors," Harry turned back.
"It reminds me of the time-turner," Hermione added.
Ron, too, turned back, "My rat was a grown man and I almost got my foot biten off."
That made the three friends laugh, despite the absurdity.
"Please, students, pay attention here," Remus called. Both the boys turned to face the teacher.
"Is it odd that I feel weird not seeing Snape here?" Neville mumbled.
"You want to take Potions again?" Hermione smirked.
"No, thanks," Neville said amusedly.
Remus began, "I hope you remember me from three years back. Yet, I will give a brief introduction. I am Remus John Lupin, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."
Somebody from the Slytherin side of the class did an impression of a howl. The rest of their Housemates joined in, laughing.
"Yes, impressive, Mr. Nott," Remus said just as calmly. "It seems you have done quite some research on wolves." Most of the Gryffindors supported the statement with snickering.
"In your last class," he continued, "Professor Snape finished the theory of the Non-verbal Body-Bind, yes? And you were given essays to write?"
"Yes, Sir." Somebody from
the front replied.
"Alright. Please come and keep your essays on my desk," Remus said.
The classroom filled with the noise of zips opening and parchments crinkling. Hermione carefully retrieved her parchments from her bag.
"Mr. Longbottom," Remus said, "Please bring Miss Granger's essay along, too."
Hermione's head shot up. She fixed her eyes at the man, in question. But he, in turn, only smiled politely.
"Hermione?" Neville held out his hand.
"Um...thanks..." She said awkwardly and handed him her parchments.
"No problem." Neville went and kept their essays on Remus' desk.
She truly disliked that special treatment. Surely, Remus was only concerned and as he had never seen her on the Charmed-Chair before, he wanted to take all precautions.
When the students settled down, Remus continued. "Today, you will practise the Body-Bind Non-verbally. Please choose a partner for yourselves." A shuffle of feet and furniture soon followed. The students sent their desks and chairs to assemble along the walls.
Hermione partnered up with Neville.
"Who goes first?" Neville asked. He seemed a little timid.
"Do you want to try the spell first?" She offered. "I'm fine either way."
"Yeah, she'll ace it anyway," Harry smirked.
"If she already hasn't, that is," Ron added.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've never even tried it."
"How long was your essay again?" Ron raised both eyebrows.
"Several parchments, at least," Neville provided. "Just don't knock me out, Hermione-"
"Miss Granger," Remus called, "You may practise the Non-verbal Summoning Charm in the meantime. Mr. Longbottom, you can take turns practising with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."
"Sorry?" Hermione frowned. The commotion around them paused as all the students turned to listen to the exchange.
"Practise the Non-verbal Summoning Charm, Miss Granger," he repeated.
"But, Sir, we have already covered that," Hermione reasoned.
"Yes, and that's why I said to practise," Remus said politely.
"Rem- er...Professor Lupin," Harry started, "Hermione can really manage all the spells."
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, I insist."
From the other side of the room, Malfoy's sniggering reached her easily in the quiet class. Blood threatened to rush to her face in humiliation. It had been her greatest insecurity: to be considered incapable or insufficient.
Quickly, she drew up her Occlumency Shields to keep her face straight.
"Yes, Sir." Her voice came out icy and her eyes averted to the floor in humiliation.
"Good. Others, please start with the exercise."
Hermione was thoroughly annoyed, exacerbated by the snide glares Malfoy and Nott kept throwing at her. She watched as her peers struggled to perfect their Non-verbals, meanwhile she was stuck with casting Non-verbals Accio Charms on objects. The different entities easily complied with her wordless wand waving.
With another lazy flick of her wand, books flung out of Hermione's bag and settled onto her lap.
"Hermione, stop!" It was Harry, his fists clenched. "Let me talk to Remus. This is ridiculous!"
"Not right now, Harry," Hermione looked at the Slytherins.
"But it's not fair!" He huffed.
Things seldom are, that came to her in Professor Snape's voice. "Let it be for now, Harry. I will talk to Remus myself."
She was angry with Remus to underestimate her and touch her insecurity. She pretended to ignore Remus' sympathetic glances her way. None of her Professors had ever underestimated her so. They often offered to help her, yes, but never treated her any differently in class.
Professor Slughorn, she recalled, had been a little apprehensive about Hermione's first brewing lesson after getting discharged from the Hospital Wing, but other than keeping a cautious eye on her cauldron, he had been his usual self. DADA under Professor Snape had been usual. She was never asked to step back. Even Madam Pomfrey let her examine the students who came to seek medical help.
It was a relief when the class got over. By the end of the lesson, Hermione was exasperated enough to summon Remus himself!
"Miss Granger," he said, "Please wait after class."
"Talk to him now, Hermione," Harry said.
"Yeah, it's just Remus, after all," Ron shrugged. "'Course he'll understand-"
"Professor Lupin,"
she corrected.
"-But don't take too long or McGonagall will turn you into a pocket watch," he chuckled and Harry joined.
"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said automatically. "And yes, I will not take long."
"Don't worry, Hermione. You can practise the Body-Bind with me," Neville offered politely. "Merlin knows I've been subjected to it too many times."
Hermione laughed. "Thanks, Neville."
When the boys exited, they waited for the Slytherins to leave, too. With the class empty, Remus approached her. "How are you, Hermione?"
"Um... Fine, thank you. How're you, Sir?" She said politely.
"You can call me Remus here," he offered. She gave a small smile and nodded. "Your spells were very effective, I noted."
"They were just simple summons," she kept from shrugging.
"A witch of your caliber would say that," Remus smiled widely. "Sirius used to call you-"
"The Brightest Witch of my Age, yes, I remember," a sad smile tugged at Hermione's lips. "But really, Sir- Remus, I am fully capable to duelling. My Chair does not restrain me."
"Of course, Hermione, I never doubted your potential," he said with earnestness. "And neither are your injuries the cause of my asking you not to perform today. Not the only reason, I mean..."
Hermione furrowed her brows. "Then?"
Remus looked hesitant. The sympathy that she saw in his eyes had intensified. "I did not want to cause you distress."
At a loss, Hermione's frown deepened. "Sorry?"
"Albus had told us what happened when your parents were attacked," he said in a whisper.
Hermione blanched. "Remus, I'm not understanding..."
"I know, Hermione, and there is nothing to be ashamed about."
What does he know! Did he know about the bond? "Remus, I'm sorry, I'm still not getting you."
He sighed. "I know that you froze, Hermione... And there's nothing at all to feel humiliated about."
"Froze?" She mumbled, baffled.
"When the Death Eaters were attacking your parents, Albus told us how you...froze and couldn't leave your room to...help them," he said in a low voice. "But at least that saved you, I would say."
Hermione was gapping. What was he even talking about! She froze? Was that the cover story being used?
"I did not want you to somehow...relive that part..."
"What?" She ran a hand through het curls. She froze? Like a coward she decided to stay in her room while her parents were killed? Was that the idea being propagated?
The Body-Bind, she gasped.
"Hermione?"
She had, indeed, been frozen, didn't she? When Professor Snape was about to cast the Killing Curse, he did put her under the Body-Bind... The wretched memories assaulted her mind. The helplessness that it had entailed, watching her parents dying...
"I...need to go," she breathed out and clutched her bag tightly to stop shaking.
"Hermione, I'm sorry. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." She erected her Shields. "I have Transfiguration."
"I can write you a note if you want to-"
"I must go," she turned her Chair towards the door. Clear water concealed the myriad of thoughts in her mind.
The recollection sickened her to no end.
How could they even believe that she had hidden away... Was that way everyone at the Order meeting was behaving so amenably to the 'poor, frightened girl'? Was that what Ron and Ginny believed, too?
Her mind felt stuffed with the myriad of ideas that were assaulting her peace.
This needs to stop, she was exasperated and tired of letting memories and people's words control her to the brink of collapsing, of feeling so thoroughly out of control of her emotions!
She strengthened her Shields to block the images from the night.
Get over it, Hermione. Just don't think about it-
"Miss Granger, you are late." The crisp voice startled her out of her thoughts and Hermione found herself standing in the doorway of the Transfiguration classroom.
She blinked. A distraction, she needed a quick distraction. It would take her mind off things. "May I...come in, Professor?"
"Five points for your tardiness," she announced. "Take your seat."
Breathe. Don't think. She went and chose the last counter, beside Susan Bones.
Harry and Ron turned to look at her. "Okay?" One of them whispered.
"Yes." She closed her eyes and released a sigh. Her Shields kept Remus' words from plaguing her anymore.
For the next hour all she focused on was how to transfigure a wriggling caterpillar into a shiny, sharp knife. But her thoughts never abated.
A/N: An abrupt ending to this chapter, I think… But I had to break it at some point. PLEASE leave a review. :) THEY ARE THE ONLY THING THAT KEEPS ME GOING!