Chapter 37: Moments of Realisation
A/N: Thanks for showing support! :)
(Hint: Our protagonists are realising something gradual!)
Enjoy!
"Miss Granger, wait," Professor Snape called.
Hermione gestured for the boys to go ahead and re-entered the classroom. Her Chair floated closer to the Professor's desk. "Yes, Sir?" Several vials of freshly brewed Wit-Sharpening Potion were lined on his table.
"An Order meeting is scheduled for the coming Wednesday," he told Hermione. "You are to attend."
"Oh," Hermione acknowledged. "When will we leave?"
"Right after dinner," he replied.
"Who else will attend the meeting from Hogwarts?"
"Other than you and I, the Headmaster, your Head of House and Lupin. We will Apparate to the Headquarters. You may come with either the Headmaster or Lupin, in a Side-along."
Even the prospect of coming with the Headmaster irked her. After the kind of ideas he had propagated about her... And Remus...Hermione loathed the pity he subjected her to. "I will come with Professor McGonagall."
"I believe she will arrive later," he told her. "She has some errands to run before the meeting."
"Then can I come with you?" She asked.
He seemed to be taken by surprise. "While I have no objection, the onlookers might question you later."
"The onlookers- Oh, right," she sighed. She could not Apparate with her Chair! Somebody would have to carry her. And then the image of the Headmaster carrying her to the meeting felt simply ludicrous. Even Remus in the role felt oddly wrong and cringeworthy. "I'll ask someone else. Maybe Karly could take me somehow with her magic."
"House-elves, too, cannot Apparate you along with a Charmed-Chair," he countered. "Why are you hesitating to ask the others?"
"Nothing," she suppressed her urge to roll her eyes. "I'll do something else."
"You are vexed," he assessed.
Hermione looked at him with all the irritation naked on her face. When she feared her lips might be coming out as a pout, she bit them and looked away.
"What is the matter?" The Professor asked more seriously.
"Bad day," she said half-heartedly. "Anyway. What about Ron and Harry? Will they be sworn in?"
He began to say something but eventually changed his words. "The Headmaster is considering their initiation. They will attend the meeting if the Headmaster sees it fit."
"I think they should be sworn in, too. Out of everyone, at least Harry deserves to be an official member," she said.
"The Order does not run to offer people apt opportunities, Granger. We do not need the deserving, we need the useful," he said.
"Harry shares a link with Riddle and Ron is good at planning strategies," Hermione defended her friends. "Doesn't the war need their efforts as duellers, too?"
"Precisely my point," he spoke silkily. "Weasley and Potter are not being initiated because they deserve to, owing to their families' position or lack thereof. If they do get initiated, it will be because they are proven to be useful."
"And I?" She asked accusingly. "Am I the only one then being initiated solely out of pity?"
"Excuse me?" He frowned.
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I am just blabbering."
"Granger," his frown deepened, "You are certainly not blabbering. Something unpleasant has happened to leave you in such bleak disposition."
"It was just a bad day," she repeated irritably. "I'm getting late for my next class."
"Potions was your last class of the day," he countered simply. "What happened?"
"Remus happened!" She finally rolled her eyes.
He arched a brow. "Lupin?"
"Did you know what Professor Dumbledore told the Order after the attack?" She asked, straight-forward.
"Not exactly. But any precarious details were kept concealed," he replied.
"Well, turns out, he went around telling stories of how my poor self froze and hid when the Death Eaters were attacking my parents. And Remus pities me oh-so-much that he didn't let me participate in class today, because one, I'm on a wheelchair or whatever this is, and two, the Body-bind would have reminded me of the attack. For the entire lesson, I was practising the stupid Summoning Charm from a corner while Malfoy and others thoroughly enjoyed themselves passing smirks and what-nots! And I didn't have a clue what atrocious stories were being spread about me in the Order that they were behaving so nicely with me! And Ron and Ginny, too, believe it, don't they? In fact, let them think I ran away when the attack happened for all I care, but I hate when people pity me! And when they think I can't do something when I perfectly well can!" By the end, Hermione found herself yelling.
Their eyes met—hers a little sheepish and his pretty much nonplussed after her rant. But he recovered first. "While I had no idea what the Headmaster had used as a cover story, Granger- no, do hear me out, please, I can say for certain that your entry into the Order is far from out of pity. Everyone in the Order is a member because they can provide something of weightage to the war effort. And as for people behaving 'too nicely' with you, as you put it, wouldn't you have been just as much at a loss about how you approach someone dealing with a great loss?"
"I would have never pitied them!" She stated. "I never pitied Harry when Riddle returned or when Sirius passed away."
"Yes, because you have the capability to differentiate between sympathy and empathy," he said. "The others simply don't."
"And Remus!" She huffed in exasperation. "He thinks I'm too fragile to participate in a stupid activity! I would have aced the Body-bind, but he... Ugh, I can't stand it when people underestimate me."
"Do you believe you can excel at the spell with lesser efforts than that of your peers?"
"Yes! I mean...I can excel at it," she hesitated. "With lesser efforts or not, I'm not sure."
"Then try it," he said simply. He got up and came around the desk to stand before her. "You have one chance to cast a Non-verbal Body-Bind successfully."
"What?" Hermione asked, floored. "On you?"
"Yes."
"But..."
"Don't waste our time and cast the spell," he sounded certain.
"Are you...sure?" She asked awkwardly.
"I would not have asked had I not been."
"But I'm trying it for the first time..." She murmured. "I don't think it'll work on you-"
"On the count of three," he ignored her. "One-"
"Wait!"
"Two-"
"Fine," she fumbled for her wand.
"Three."
Hermione sent the magic from her veins to the wand in her hand, and threw the spell towards her target. With a Non-verbal incantation, she watched as the flash of colour left her wand and caught his body. In a moment, the Professor's form went rigid and still.
A ghost of a smile graced his lips. Hermione returned with one of her own wide grins. She watched with fascination as he easily revoked her spell from his body.
"Wow, how did you do that?" Hermione asked.
"Practice," he said simply. "Now, Granger, do you realise that you are far from incapable or fragile?"
Hermione was not daft. She knew her spell was pretty strong for first time. "Y-yes..."
"Good," he said smoothly. "Remember, Granger, what people like Remus Lupin think of you will not lead you in life. Even if they underestimate you today, you should never underestimate yourself."
"It's just that...I hate when people think it'll make one feel nice if they offer their pity," she said in a lowered voice. "It makes one feel even worse. I thought that's why they're letting me join the Order."
"Had that been the case," he said with casual smoothness, "The Order would have been in the hands of Longbottom."
Hermione's gaze softened, she nodded slowly, in understanding. "I understand."
"Good." He rounded the table and retook his seat behind it. "As for Lupin's reluctance to let you participate in class, I do believe you are not shy to lose a handful of points for a polite bit of disobedience."
Hermione gapped slightly. "You are openly telling me to disobey him?"
"Would you rather keep perfecting your Summons?" He flexed a brow in amusement.
She huffed a laughter. "I think I'll have to sacrifice a few points in the next DADA lesson."
"As for Apparating to the Headquarters," he said, "You may come with me, if you wish. We will start a little late so nobody remains at the Apparition point to witness the two of us in company."
"Really? Great. But wouldn't it be an inconvenience for you? Reaching late, I mean..."
"I will prefer not breathing in that infernal house any longer than strictly required," he said silkily. "Moreover, the meeting will not commence without me as the most imperative issue at hand revolves around my quickly slipping position under the Dark Lord."
"And what about returning?" She asked.
"You can use the Floo network back to Hogwarts," he answered. "It is a one-way connection."
"That'll be convenient," she smiled. "Thanks for...everything."
"Now I believe you are to present yourself at the Hospital Wing." Hermione could sense his slight awkwardness at being offered gratitude, so she excused herself politely.
Exiting the classroom, she smiled to herself—who would ever believe that Severus Snape found a solution to her litany of problems. She glanced back at his form, now collecting the glass vials from his table, and smiled fondly at him before closing the door behind herself.
UUUUUUU
Wednesday morning started with an excited Harry telling Hermione how the Headmaster had offered him and Ron membership of the Order. Ron could not stop grinning smugly in triumph and Ginny could not keep dismay from her temperament at being the only Weasley who still was not a member.
"So how're we going?" Ron asked.
"I have a lesson with Dumbledore this evening," Harry told them in a hushed voice so as to keep it from the other occupants at the table. "He'll take me along. You two can come with Remus."
"Yeah, I'll tell him to wait for us," Ron said.
"Uh, I have an extra shift at the Hospital Wing," Hermione lied. "I'll ask someone else to drop me."
"You'll join late?" Harry asked.
"Not very," she replied. "And the meeting never starts on time, anyway."
"We'll wait for you," Ron offered.
"No," she quickly said. "I can manage."
"But whom will you come with?" Ron inquired. "You can't Apparate yet."
"They expect you to join the Order, but won't teach you to Apparate sooner," Ginny muttered.
"Well... It's not exactly a party club where we get to celebrate and stuff, Ginny," Ron shrugged. "We work for the war effort."
"Oh, yeah? Says the one who can't help bragging about his joining since last night?" Ginny scoffed. "And I know what the Order is for. I genuinely want to contribute for the war."
"You can do that in more ways that one, Ginny," Hermione said. "In the end, it will need our efforts at large, and not just those of the Order members."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It's like...we'll only strategise and all. No fun there!"
Ginny pursed her lips in disapproval. "You think I'm upset on missing on the fun, Harry Potter?"
"Er..." Harry was caught at a loss.
"Well," she stood up, "Believe it or not, I'm worried about you and I hate to be kept in the dark when I know it's you or my family at stake!" With that, she left the Gryffindor table. Harry, meanwhile, watched dumbly as her girlfriend exited the Great Hall.
"She speaks so much like Mum," Ron mumbled. "It's almost scary." Hermione elbowed him. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. "Harry, that was really daft."
"I was just trying to improve her mood..." He ran a hand down his messy hair.
"You were really miserable, Mate," Ron said sympathetically.
"Should I...er, go after her?" Harry asked with hesitation, looking from Ron to Hermione.
"No, not right now," Hermione said. "Let me go and talk to her. She's really mad at you." Hermione looked at Ginny's abandoned plate of breakfast and shook her head. She grabbed a napkin and packed a strawberry-flavoured muffin for her from the table.
"She doesn't..." Harry mumbled.
"I didn't catch that?"
"I mean...she doesn't like strawberry..." Harry said awkwardly, eyeing Ron from the corner of his eyes.
Hermione chuckled. "You don't have to be so shy about caring for your girlfriend."
"Er...yeah, well..." He shrugged, still awkward. Ron, for his part, was pretending not to be paying attention.
Boys! She sighed. Hermione picked up an apple for Ginny, instead, and moved her Chair away from the table.
She made her way out to go after Ginny. Harry, Hermione sighed mentally, really needed to find company away from Ron or he'd turn just as hopeless as Ron when it came to girls. She looked back at the Gryffindor table—Ron was talking to a blushing Lavender. Hermione gave a sad smile to herself, feeling like a typical fiction heroine from the Nineteenth Century. But then again, fiction is inspired by real life, isn't it?
Sometimes, she did wonder how Ron and Lavender would together be like. And how would Hermione deal when their relationship would become more official... But however she'd deal with it, she had to at least pretend to be unaffected...
Is this how a heartbreak feels like? But it was not exactly a heartbreak, Hermione was not even sure about Ron. And neither could she ever be now. Maybe, this is just how loss of control feels like, loss of control over one's own life.
Hermione found Ginny sitting on the marble staircase. Her features were set pensively and her face matched her ginger hair. Her bag was doomed to lay abandoned on the steps, too.
"Ginny?"
Her red-head friend looked up. "He sent you?"
"Of course not. But he did tell me you wouldn't like a strawberry muffin," Hermione smiled and offered Ginny the apple.
"He's stupid," Ginny declared but accepted the fruit.
"Aren't all boys," Hermione chuckled. "That's being a bit stereotypical, though."
"Did I overreact?" She asked, looking down.
"No," Hermione replied simply. "But it's about more than what Harry said, isn't it?"
"It is about a lot of things," the other girl sighed. "I'm worried, Hermione. I'm so, so worried."
"Hey," Hermione moved her Chair closer to her friend and placed her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "What is it?"
"It's everything," she said resignedly. "It's my family, my friends, Harry, the war. I know the danger and it keeps me awake at night to think that everyone I love will soon fight a battle that could...just wipe everything away..."
"I know how that feels," Hermione mumbled.
"You know," Ginny said forlornly, "Harry still gets those visions from You-Know-Who. But he never tells anyone except Dumbledore. But I can see his bloodshot eyes in the morning, I see his tired, sleep-deprived face, and I know he couldn't sleep after the vision. I can tell that he probably even cried. And I can't do anything about it."
Hermione gave a gentle squeeze to Ginny's shoulder. "You can do a lot of things, you are doing a lot of things... Sometimes, just being there matters."
"But maybe I can't be there when he fights in the battle," she looked up. "Maybe I can't help him, or you all, or my family in the battlefield. I'm scared to lose everyone."
"We are at a war, Gin," Hermione said. "We are all at risks every single day. We're all scared to lose each other. I sometimes fear how many of these smiling faces that I see everyday in classes, at meals, will I never see after the war. Your parents, too, are terrified to think that all of their kids will fight in this deadly battle. Yet, it is a conscious decision we all have made. And I know it's hard to see Harry like that, especially because he doesn't open up quickly. But though he might not be able to tell you everything, he feels loved to have you there with him, to support him."
"I don't know if it's enough," Ginny mumbled.
"It is, believe me," Hermione said softly. "It's all that one wants—to be listened to. We just yearn for someone to understand us, even if they can't exactly express their concern. It feels good to be asked a simple 'What happened' after a bad day. To just be held with security when scared..."
A ghost of a memory came fleeting by. The remnants of a touch lingered on her shoulder as if a strong, warm hand were trying to convey comfort.
'No, you can.' Words spoken near her ear in a smooth voice, a little hushed, flared warmth to her heart.
She focused back at Ginny, "It is just enough to go on."
"I hope I can be enough for Harry and that soon, he'd even start opening up to me about these things..." Ginny sighed and took the first bite of her apple.
UUUUUUU
Severus tightened the cork on the glass phial. Inside the glass, the sparking blue liquid was brimming to the neck. The concoction had demanded five days to be brewed. If Albus' body was compatible to the potion, he would be gifted with an extension of six months of life.
He stored the bottle safely inside a cabinet. "Bloody old fool of a man," he muttered. If ever he wrote Albus Dumbledore's biography, he would elaborate his cause of death with great interest. Let the world know what a gormless fool the Great Sorcerer is.
He cast a Tempus. The Order meeting was about to be started. He must leave with Granger soon. He locked the door to his private laboratory with his wand, and grabbed his travelling cloak from the stand.
Severus sent her a signal. She was to meet him by the Gates. When Granger had asked him to accompany her, he had been bemused. To think that she trusted him more than the Warewolf... But of course, the bloody Warewolf was unbearable. No sense of subtlety in these damnable Gryffindors.
Nobody with self-respect would tolerate treatment like that and Granger had an over abundance of it. Self-respect, he snorted recalling Draco's incensed face with sewed lips. Granger's temper could be rather creative. It had been quite tricky to undo Granger's curse.
But she could have gone with Albus, instead. 'Did you know what Professor Dumbledore told the Order after the attack?' Ah, she was livid with the Headmaster. Rightfully so.
But she wanted to go with Minerva. Of course she would choose Minerva over him- What in the name of Merlin are you ruminating over, you idiot!
She needed to Apparate to the Headquarters and nobody else could aid her but he. Yet, somewhere deep, a small, neglected voice was telling him that she trusted him. Why that realisation was sending an almost comfortable heat to his chest, he knew not.
Should she trust me? His feet stopped. Was he even a trustworthy man? The last time somebody had trusted him, he had gotten her killed. Severus shook his head, as if to clear his mind. He must maintain his distance from her and thoughts that revolved around her—for her safety.
Severus left the castle through the Entrance Hall and walked towards the Gates. He would burn her. She had already paid too much for a lifetime. Moreover, he couldn't afford to indulge himself in such maudlin thoughts. He was a man of logic, not nauseating sentiments.
"That's a good boy, Fang!"
He looked up to find Granger by the Gates. She was petting Hagrid's dog, while the said dog was blithely sitting by her Chair and wagging his tail.
The infernal trespasser of a cat and now the dog.
When the dog licked her, Severus winced but Granger laughed jovially. Suddenly, the warmth in his chest returned and he found the corners of lips twitching upwards.
When her eyes fell on him, he sobered immediately. "Good evening, Sir."
Severus nodded in acknowledgement. "If your meeting with the animal has ended, we have another to attend—with other animals."
To that, she chuckled. "And I used to think you lack a sense of humour."
"Oh, believe me, I hardly ever joke," he said, amused. "Kindly bid farewell to your friend so we shall leave."
Granger turned to the dog and petted its head again. "Alright, Fang, now off to Hagrid's with you. I will see you later." After a saccharine bit of nonsense, the dog finally left. Severus' lips curled in disgust when the animal passed by his legs.
"You really don't like animals," Granger assessed.
"You are mistaken," he said. "I despise any living organisms with more than two legs."
"But why?" She asked. "I adore animals."
"Yes, that much is quite apparent," he responded.
"You should really keep a pet-"
"Not in this lifetime," he snorted.
"Why don't you like animals?" She asked.
"After having a Warewolf pounce upon me, twice, and after having my foot bitten off by a three-headed dog, I think I have reason enough," Severus said dismissively.
"Twice?" She gasped.
He resisted his urge to roll his eyes. "A tale for another time, Granger."
"Was it Remus?" She questioned.
"We have a meeting to attend in the presence of the said Warewolf," he said acerbically. "Shall we rather focus on reaching the Headquarter before the meeting comes to an end."
She clicked her tongue but complied with a nod. "Oh, wait. What will I tell the others when they ask me how I arrived?"
"Tell them that Hagrid dropped you," he suggested.
"But Hagrid is not at Hogwarts today. I didn't see smoke coming out of his chimney."
"And how would the Order know that?"
"And what if somebody asked him?" She asked.
"Ah, yes. How could I have overlooked the possibility of a busy Order member inquiring Hagrid of his journey with you to the Grimmauld Place," Severus said sarcastically. "Nobody will care, Granger. Moreover, the Headmaster is aware that you are coming with me."
"Oh? He knows?" She seemed discomfited. "He knows everything that goes around here, doesn't he?"
"It seems to me that you are not too comfortable with that?" Severus flexed a brow.
"Maybe because I'm a bit rankled with him," she said dismissively.
"The Headmaster heads the school as well as the Order, Granger. Consider it a piece of advice, there is not much that goes around unnoticed by him."
"But not everything. Anyway. Alright then," she worried her lower lip with her teeth. "Let's go?"
Severus decided not to ponder on her words just yet. He walked closer to Granger's Chair. "Ready?"
"As long as you promise not to splinch me," she smiled.
"I am not making any promises," he smirked.
The uncomfortable awkwardness that had hung thickly between them the last time was gratefully missing. Severus bent and gently lifted her from her Chair. The light Sticking Charm gave away easily. Breathing into the familiar scent of fresh rain and old books, he took her gingerly in his arms.
Something inexplicable about her easy acceptance of him overwhelmed Severus. A wave of protectiveness skittered through him, a strong urge to keep this witch close enough to guard her, even though she might not need guarding.
She was still lighter than one her height should be and Severus found himself vaguely wondering if she was eating enough. Glancing at her, he was pleased to find no smudges of black under her eyes or hollows for cheeks as she had come to fashion soon after the beginning of the term. She had recuperated well from her fall, or at least as well as could be expected.
"Oh, by the way," she said rather casually as she draped an arm around his shoulders, "I have started Gait Training. Madam Pomfrey says I'll be on my feet by Christmas, albeit on crutches."
"Excellent," he remarked. His eyes traveled to her robe-covered legs and then to her Chair. "Shrink your Chair."
With ease as if gained from years of practice, she cast a Non-verbal on the said Chair and summoned it just as smoothly into her open palm.
She looked back at him, coming to place her other hand on his shoulder. "I'm ready."
Far too close, he was far too close to her for his comfort, yet it was not discomfort that he stumbled upon. It was—with great self-depreciation he recognised—satisfaction, as if holding her close came naturally to him. No, he inwardly shook his head, he could not think in this way. It was crossing all lines of propriety, and Severus Snape appreciated boundaries.
In her eyes, he saw only trust, unhidden, unrestrained. Trust for him. Those eyes spoke to him. That look he had never been shown much. Such was the plight of a spy—he was doomed to live with a lack of trust from both sides. And one who was a former Death Eater did not deserve much. But Granger...she trusted him and did not conceal it.
And some part of him longed to treasure it away.
Could he call it her naïveté? Her credulousness, even? But Granger was sharp. Perhaps not the best judge of character, then. He averted his own eyes away that held only doubt. Doubts about himself.
He tightened his hold on her, she in turn, too, clutched his shoulders firmly. With a mental count of three, he Apparated themselves to the Order Headquarters.
UUUUUUU
It was when she could feel herself connected to the supply of oxygen again that Hermione opened her eyes. Under the dark night sky, a single flickering streetlamp was casting more shadows than light. Distinctly, she could hear a car or two passing somewhere on the main road, but the closer vicinity was submerged in undisturbed silence.
"I hope we have not left a part or two of your body behind," the Professor snorted. His breath caressed her hair. His muscles were relaxed today, just as hers were.
"I don't think so," she smiled and looked up at him. The streetlamp lit his dark eyes up, and for the first time she noticed the long eyelashes skirting his eyes. The single crease of frown that mostly marked between his eyebrows had dulled to a distant impression. A thin line, two shades lighter than his skin, marred his right temple in the form of a very old scar that she had always missed. In that flutter of moment, she realised how close she was to him.
Or rather, how close they had come...
Hermione Granger! She shook herself out of the brief trance.
"My Chair..." She mumbled. Quickly, she resized her Chair before he could assess where her thoughts were wandering off to.
"You will go ahead of me," he suggested, lowering her into her Chair.
"And you?" She asked, mentally clicking her tongue at the sudden loss of warmth and the fragrance of spices and smoke.
He crouched before her and gingerly held her right leg in his hands. Over the gauzy fabric of her long robe, she could feel his calloused hands on her calf, that held a vague expertise at handling anything delicate. He placed her immobile foot on the footplate with the gentleness that one would assume to be beyond him, and repeated the process with her other leg.
Care. She had often doubted he was even capable of caring. Especially after the attack, she had taken him for an emotionless shell of a man who harboured no semblance of concern for anyone other than himself and his motives. But this man, crouched by her feet, who carried no shred of toxic masculine ego, compelled her to believe how wrong she had been at judging his character.
More than anything at that moment, she felt cared for. This man cared. For her. The thought felt odd to comprehend. Did he care for her? Or would he have done the same for anyone? She liked to think that this concealed part of his personna was only reserved for her.
"I will enter a few minutes later-"
"Hermione?"
"Oh, God." The prayer was sent in reflex as Hermione looked up to find two figures standing at the end of the street, half hidden in the dark. But she recognised the voice all too clearly.
The Professor abruptly stood up and stepped in front of her, blocking her. His wand was drawn in a swift motion that her eyes could not even catch, but Hermione knew it was not a wand that she needed, but a believable cover story to tell.
As the two figures stepped closer to the streetlamp, a suspicious and confused Remus, and an apparently fuming Ron came into view.
Hermione blanched.
A/N: So… Something there, isn't it? How do find the blooming *cough* romance? Please let me know! :)
Oh, and sorry for thr cliffhanger. *Chucking evilly*