"How about that one?" Severus pointed to a constellation.
"Erm," Hermione traced the stars with her own tiny finger and bit her lip in thought. "Libra!"
Hermione had memorized the Northern Hemisphere constellations on her star-chart back in the winter and she had been so excited for the first clear night after the students left for summer. The five-year-old girl hadn't failed to identify a single constellation or star he'd pointed to, and her eyes sparkled with each one she nervously identified.
She got excited over the smallest of things and he made a mental note to do this more often. He imagined it broke up the girl's monotonous life in their living quarters. He combed the sky for a more challenging constellation and a smirk broke across his face as he pointed at a particular cluster of stars, resting his other hand on Hermione's head. "And that one?"
Hermione puzzled biting her lips once more, squinting and tracing the stars, trying to connect the dots without much luck.
Might as well admit-
"Erm...Lepis Major!" Hermione chirped.
"Lepis Major?" he asked, taken aback.
She turned to him with a little smirk of her own, closed her eyes and spoke in the most matter-of-fact voice she could muster. "It's Latin for 'big bunny'."
"Is it now?" he mused ruffling her hair. I'm impressed.
"Yessir," she giggled. "But I know it's not a real constellation, is it?"
So clever, that's my girl. "Are you suggesting I'd lie to you?" Severus gasped with feigned insult. "Oh, that hurts, love!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm right, aren't I?"
"I suppose you are," he pulled her into his lap and kissed her forehead before scrutinizing the star cluster. "Though I don't see a rabbit."
Hermione traced the stars for him to follow. "See it, Daddy?"
"I see," he said softly when another real constellation caught his eye. "There's Virgo, it's your birth sign."
"My birth sign," she said slowly before a cold edge formed in her voice. "But you aren't certain of that, are you, Daddy?"
"Hermione," he choked as his blood froze.
"And yes, I am suggesting you'd lie to me," she hissed, suddenly twelve again with fire in her eyes. "All you do is lie, isn't it? Spare me the 'father knows best' routine! You have no fucking clue what you're doing!"
"Listen, Hermione I-"
"I trusted you!"
Severus awoke clutching his chest and gasping for air. He searched the dark room for forms in the shadows and instinctively reached for his wand. Not he thought his dream alerted him to any external threat, this was just a habit.
"Lumos," he whispered and crept out of bed before remembering there was no one to wake in the next room.
That dream-it had actually happened, with the exception of being called out by a furious out-of-time Hermione. It had always been something he looked back on fondly, though looking back now, it had been more bittersweet. The real night ended with her asking for details about her birth, which he'd promptly shut down stating that he'd tell her when she was older. A promise he had no intention of keeping. "I made up your birth date based on a vague statement from an unstable coworker, and I specifically chose a date that would be the hardest for others to fuss over" wasn't exactly oozing with paternal affection. Nor did "I have no bloody clue when or even where you were born. I didn't bother to ask your birth-parents because I had no intention of claiming you at the time." Though it had nothing on his lie about her mother... Yes, she was biracial she had more ambiguous features, so why the hell couldn't she just take for granted that he was her biological father? It wouldn't have been necessary then. How long do you intend on telling yourself that?
At least he had a chance to fix one mistake of his. Hermione started taking classes at fourth year that morning and he had her that day. All he had to do was not draw attention to her and not call out her friends. That would be easy enough...though unlike the previous year, everyone would already have a preconception of Hermione whether based on his behaviour, rumour or actually meeting her. It might not be precisely the do-over she deserved, but he could prove his classes could be palatable for her.
Any assurance he'd felt left him when he entered the Great Hall to tacky pink and red reminders that it was the fourteenth of February. No better way to convince one's daughter that he is safe to trust than teaching her and her classmates how to make a love-potion under duress. He took his seat next to an arrogantly beaming Lockhart clad in pink, quite satisfied with himself.
"Wonderful morning, isn't it, Severus?" Lockhart chortled.
"I suppose you think it is?" he sighed.
The others who had objected looked much more complacent than he had imagined, Flitwick was even smiling pointing out the different decorations floating around the hall. Severus forgot the man was a magpie. Though Flitwick's magpie tendencies had nothing on the chittering mass of students that entered the hall. Some gawked at the decorations, some giggled mischievously, but all seemed in rather high spirits or at least curious.
He scanned the crowd and found a mane of bushy brown hair between a skinny dark-haired boy and a tall ginger boy. He immediately honed in on Hermione, Potter and Weasley, the boys speaking out of the corner of their mouths and Hermione's eyes were circled with the familiar purple rings that told him she'd slept just about as well as he did.
Lovegood waved to Hermione from the Ravenclaw table, Hermione looked up to wave back and caught his gaze, and immediately looked away, the silent, solemn child suddenly found words to share with the boys, who now looked confused. She wanted to pretend she hadn't seen him and he felt a sudden pang.
All you ever do is lie! I trusted you!
It wouldn't be long now before the real Hermione said those words to him...
"Dwarves delivering Valentines?!" Hermione hissed after Lockhart's speech. "That's disgusting!"
The confusion on Harry and Ron's flushed faces replaced the repulsion from the little pink hearts flying everywhere. Harry was muggle-raised, no understanding of the plight of non-human magical creatures, and Ron just-didn't care. Hermione sorely missed Saiyaka at the moment. She would care about the humiliation of Dwarves.
"That's what you find disgusting?" Ron scoffed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, I find it all quite disgusting...spells and potions to strip one's will from them! And I can't believe the professors are all going along with it! It's like-no, actually I can!" she spat bitterly. "Grown-ups are hypocrites!"
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Lavender sang before flushing pink. "Hi, Ron!"
"Erm, hi?" he said.
Three girls next to her began sniggering and Parvarti smiled awkwardly before staring at her plate ashamed.
"What was that about?" Harry whispered.
"It doesn't matter," she sighed putting her head on the table.
"She's right, you know!" Angelina Johnson's voice came from somewhere on her left, louder than any other voice at the table. "It is disgusting!"
Hermione lifted her head to see Angelina rise to her full height and cup her hands around her mouth with a fury in her dark brown eyes she hadn't seen since Malfoy called Colin a mudblood.
"Oi!" Angelina called at the top of her lungs. "Teaching love spells and potions is wrong! Anyone who agrees with me join me in the Entrance Hall at nine-o'clock for a sit-out!"
A tsunami of voices crashed over the Great Hall and Hermione couldn't make out most of them. She looked over her shoulder and saw Angelina, Katie and Alicia beaming proudly together as other fourth year Gryffindors gathered around them. She could see why George admired Angelina, Hermione hadn't the courage to do something like that. The students had a right to protest, it was outlined in the Code of Conduct, but Hermione was still only willing to hiss about it behind the teacher's backs. Though she had thought of re-joining the Herald with a very carefully written anonymous article dragging the idiot's idea through the dirt. This was better.
"Hermione! Luna!" Skylar waved from beside Angelina breaking whatever conversation they were in.
The turn out was greater than Hermione expected. The crowd were shoulder to shoulder and too many eyes stared ahead. Hermione knew they weren't looking at her, but she still felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and heart pound in her chest. She wanted to be part of this, to stand for what she thought was right, but the crowd...the in her lungs burned as she tried to remind herself that she'd faced worse. This was nothing.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" Luna asked blinking at her.
"Erm, yeah," she choked. "I'm fine. Let's go."
They sat beside Skylar, cross-legged on the floor and Hermione scanned the crowd, surprised to see so many familiar faces. The whole Gryffindor quidditch team were in immediate sights of her, Neville, Seamus and Dean could be spotted in a far corner, Eloise Midgeon sat with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot and Padma Patil joined the Hufflepuffs. She scanned the hall for Harry and Ron.
"I can't believe we have an excuse to skive off classes!" Ron beamed behind them.
"Gah!" Hermione leapt and turned to see Harry and Ron taking in Angelina's successful spontaneous protest with as much amazement. "Th-this isn't just about taking off classes, Ron!" she found enough of her voice to hiss.
"Oh, come off it, Hermione!" Ron rolled his eyes.
"You're misappropriating it!" she hissed.
Angelina glared at Ron for a moment before rolling her own eyes. "Don't you think using love-potions and spells is wrong?" she turned to George on her other side. "Your brother does, doesn't he?"
"Erm," George coughed. "Of course."
Skylar sighed handing Luna a set of paint brushes. "Not everyone's going to be here for the cause," they summoned a long banner. "You get used to it, but the numbers make a point. You didn't honestly think that everyone feels as strongly as we do about it?"
"Merlin, Skylar," Angelina groaned. "I just don't want people think it's okay."
"And we convince the skivers by accepting them," Skylar shrugged. "Can you make us a banner, Luna?"
How are you so damn calm? Hermione thought.
"What about you, Harry?" Oliver Wood asked. "You're not just skiving, are you?"
"No," Harry said. "I agree, love potions and spells seem wrong."
Hermione helped Luna unfurl the long banner along the width of the hall when another tall red-haired form ran along the room.
"I'm late," O'Malley breathed. "Need help with that?"
Luna shrugged with a smile. "Hermione and I have it."
O'Malley nodded and found his way to the cluster of Gryffindors and Skylar, sitting opposite them and asking how he could help.
"What do you think it should read?" Luna asked turning her silver eyes up once the banner laid flat. "It should be catchy."
"Erm, I, erm, dunno...Hey, Angelina!" Hermione called. "What should it read?!"
Angelina twirled a thin black braid in her finders pensively before calling back. "It was spontaneous! We didn't really get to prepare, but I reckon it should be catchy!"
"Skylar?" her voice cracked. "The banner was your idea!"
"Erm," Skylar shrugged. "Angelina was so fired up...I kinda just thought she had one!"
"Seriously?" Lee Jordan rolled his eyes. "Control isn't Love!"
Once Angelina and Skylar got together volunteers (Hermione, Luna, Dean and two older Hufflepuffs) to make the banner with Lee's statement, they sat out from nine-o'clock to half-past four. For a spontaneous protest, the lot of them were well organized. Filch had been sent out to watch the protesters, and Fred and George refrained from messing with him as to not undermine the cause. They broke out into chants whenever they saw a teacher pass through the Entrance Hall, which were met with indifference. Hermione read so much about protests, she kept waiting for someone to do something stupid, but to her amazement nothing happened. It all went according to...well as much of a plan as there could have been in the short amount of time Angelina had. Hermione, Luna and O'Malley agreed to write on Angelina's sit-out (though they were far from unbiased!), and set to interviewing her, Skylar and any other volunteers.
"I wonder," Luna said after the crowd dispersed, staring at the banner. "If Colin might have liked to take pictures of such a big event."
Hermione clasped her hands together and bit her lip. She didn't know, but she wish she did talk to Harry and Ron about the diary the previous night-it wouldn't have brought Colin back, but it could have stopped other muggle-borns from getting hurt.
"There it is!" Ron pointed to a particular silver plaque behind the glass in the centre of the case. "'For special services to the school: T.M Riddle.'"
Hermione leaned in to examine the plaque, her nose centimetres from the glass as she read the plaque. 1943. "That's the year the chamber was last opened!"
"Do you think he could have had anything to do with it?" Harry asked.
"I doubt it," Ron grumbled mouth twisted with indignation. "Riddle has more than that trophy. He was a prefect, head-boy and even top of his year. No way little mister perfect had a hand in it."
Ron's blue eyes narrowed in disgust at the plaque as if it had caused some personal harm to him. Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the scorn in his voice at 'top of his year'. He didn't understand that the striving for academic achievements was just an attempt to be good enough at something...nor did he know that no matter how many good grades or trophies Riddle got, he never would have filled the hole.
Now who's making assumptions?
"I'll have to hit the archives. Do either of you two want to come with me?" Hermione asked. "We might be able to figure out what the 'special service' was."
"Sure," Harry said jumping at the chance to figure it out. "I got-"
"Oi!" a gruff voice called out. "'Arry Potter!"
The voice belonged to a stout, bald Dwarf with a bulbous, ruddy nose, and ringed black eyes, carrying a basket and wearing nothing but baggy white pants fashioned to look like a diaper. Hermione's stomach churned and thought chronic stress had done more than turn his beard white and cause his hair to fall away.
"We're not partaking!" Harry called. "We were part of the protest!"
"I was part of a protest once too, laddie," the dwarf hiccoughed. "Think my friends and I would be doing this if it worked? Take yer card!"
"Okay! Okay!" Harry shrank away from him but took the card.
Hermione hadn't read much about Dwarves, but the pictures in the books and scant paragraphs she had encountered had failed to mention the degradation they faced in modern day. The pot-bellied, old dwarf also seemed a far cry from the proud bearded makers depicted in every book. Hermione thought back to the unquestioned hierarchy of magical beings and wished hundreds of years ago people like her and Saiyaka had bothered to listen to their plights, rather than now when she had no clue what could be done.
"Was it a labour strike?" she asked.
"If yer curious about failed movements read a book!" he snarled. "Dwarves don't owe you shit!"
Hermione opened her mouth to argue but she thought about every time she had ever been upset about people asking her about her origins. True, she didn't know, and it might be different if she did. But as it stood, she felt the questions invasive. And that wasn't tied to a longer history. As much as she wanted to cry that she just wanted to help, or feel hurt, he was right. She didn't know his name, why would he tell her about hurt in his past? You presumptuous, stupid piece of shit!
"You can't talk to her like that!" Ron snapped.
"It's fine," Hermione said trying to tame the hurt in her voice.
"But he-"
"It's fine," she turned to the Dwarf and nodded her head. "I'm sorry."
"Did you just bow in apology to a dwarf?" a clear voice drawled. "Maybe Professor Snape did find you. Must have been damaged."
"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron spat.
"Make him, Weasley," Pansy giggled, skipping up to Hermione. "Even if you were dumped by some witch with a craving for dumplings because you were damaged," she took her arm. "You're still our favourite little stray."
"What the hell are you on about?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You said you'd help me with Transfiguration before break."
"Aww, sweetie," Hermione cooed. "I'm not in second-year classes anymore so I can't help you. But you don't need the help of a little stray, do you?"
"Bitch!" she seethed tightening her grip.
"What's that you got, Potter?" Malfoy smirked taking T.M Riddle's diary . "What deep secrets have you been-"
"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried causing the book to fly out of Malfoy's hands.
Harry snatched the book back and dropped the pink envelope in favour of Riddle's diary.
"Do we have a love letter, Potter?" Malfoy sneered picking up the envelope.
"Hey!" a voice called from across the corridor.
All five of them turned their attention to an immaculate Percy marching toward them tailed by a petite red-headed girl, Ginny, looking much more apprehensive than Percy.
"No magic in the corridors, Harry!" Percy snarled. "Did you not get in enough trouble?"
"But Malfoy took Harry's things!" Ron said pointing to Malfoy.
Percy turned to glared at Malfoy, leaning over him with his full-height. "Give it back to him, Malfoy."
Malfoy gave an evil smirk and raised his pale eyebrows. "And I will, once I've read it!"
"P-please don't," Ginny choked, her brown eyes huge.
Malfoy let out a cold laugh the churned Hermione's stomach. "And now we know who your admirer is!"
"Haven't you got better shit to do then torment a first year?" Hermione spat. "Though I suppose it's always been hard for you to pick on someone on your own level."
"Like you?" Malfoy scoffed. "You're nothing without Daddy behind you, are you?"
"It seems we have that in common," she hissed.
"I have a mother," he sneered.
Hermione once again had no retort. She hated how easy she was to play. Playing the mother card hurt now more than ever, not only did she have no idea who her mother was, but she was lied to about her by the one person who had the answers. She didn't want to admit it, but staring at Malfoy, thinking of the rumours, she wondered if her father lied because the truth was so bad he thought he had to. There was no reason for her to think that, but it gnawed at the back of her mind.
"Now let's see what Weasley has to say about-'eyes as green as pickled toad'! Pansy, look at this!" Malfoy sneered.
Pansy let go of Hermione's arm to read the card with him, both cackling.
Hermione turned to Ginny seeing tears well in her eyes, her face drained as she stared at Harry, who turned his eyes to the diary he clutched. Ginny's lower lip trembled and she tore from the trophy hall at a speed Hermione herself wasn't capable without the assistance of cat-like features.
"I can't go with you to the library, Hermione," Harry said once they reached the common room. "If I hear one more Slytherin chanting 'eyes as bright as pickled toad', I think I'll go mad."
Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that Ginny had it much, much worse than he did. Whenever she resurfaced from her dormitory, she would be hounded mercilessly for her little crush on the famous Harry Potter. She already had no friends that Hermione could tell, and this would make it so much worse. Though, Harry was a decent person, he did often forget that others could have it worse than him. Not that he didn't have it bad, everything he's told them about the Dursleys sounded awful, and Hermione wasn't about to forget that he had so much taken away at a young age, that he survived not one, but two attempted murders, and then there was the altercation with Quirrell, he didn't talk about it...but at the moment, Ginny's pain was greater, even if Harry's overall situation was worse.
How could he have gone through so much and be so...okay? I've not been through half of what he did and I...I'm just one misstep from a panic attack most days. It's not fair! Hermione moved a lock of hair from her face. Life's not fair. You're not doing anyone good thinking of it now...
"We're twelve," Ron reminded her. "Can't you just go on your own?"
"Monster stalking the school, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Even if I wasn't looking to placate my prat of a father-"
"What made you finally see the light?" Ron scoffed.
"Forget it," Hermione sighed. "I'm dropping off my bag and leaving. Join me or hide in the common room."
Hermione took the stairs to the dormitory and passed the door to the first-years' room. She wondered if Ginny would be up to speaking with her or if she needed more time alone. She never knew what to do in these situations. She took in a deep breath and knocked on the door.
The door creaked open and she saw Ginny's tear-filled eyes peak through the door. "H-Hermione?"
"Hi," she said wringing her hands. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you-but-erm-I-erm-I kind of just wanted to make sure you were okay. Erm, are you?"
Smooth, you have no clue how to comfort people, do you?
Ginny stared at her for a moment before her brown eyes scanned the staircase. She bit her lip before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "I'm fine. Thanks."
"If you're sure..." she bit her own lip.
"I am!" Ginny snapped before slamming the door in her face.
Hermione blinked bewildered for a moment. Months ago Ginny had wanted to talk to her. Though, she wasn't completely sure she did. Maybe when they last spoke Hermione was overly insistent, and she couldn't be surprised that Ginny needed time alone to process having her crush professed to everyone. If either of Hermione's little crushes saw the light of day in Mahoukatoro, she would do everything she could to disappear until August. And thinking it was anything else was just plain stupid.
Hermione went up to the second-year girls' room to collect to drop off her bag. She looked around the circular room, grateful for the lack of other human beings. She flung herself onto the bed with a heaving sigh and closed her eyes. She let herself sink into the scarlet and gold comforter and let her muscles unwind, let herself breathe. She felt so lost, so inadequate, the time to just breathe, just one moment...she was so tired...No! There's so much you have to do! Hermione moved to leave the bed and fell back down. What's one minute?
The previous year Severus had thought Hermione looked so out of place in his classroom. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been looking at a four-year-old rather than an eleven-year-old. Seeing his now twelve-year-old daughter in a class full of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds made the effect much, much worse. Hermione was dwarfed by her peers, and her attempts to shrink to nothing did not help matters.
The Weasley twins with Jordanspoke in low tones, Hermione sat beside one of them in the back, not listening to whatever mischeif in favour scanning the room. He recognized the expression on her face, she was measuring up everyone in the classroom, paying particular attention to the nine Slytherins she had yet to meet and two Gryffindor girls giggling in the row before her. She chewed her lip pensively and he imagined she constructed and deconstructed scenarios where she might have to speak to any of them, and her clasped hands telegraphed her fear that something was about to go horribly wrong.
Why did I let Dumbledore talk me into this? Don't fuck this up...
"Settle down," he said, silencing the few who still spoke. "Now that we have been given the privilege of adhering to our schedule," he said combing the classroom. "We'll continue on our antidote work. Can anyone tell me what the universal antidote is?"
Not a single hand raised, despite being something everyone should have known at this point in the curriculum. How so few students offered information in his classes still irked him. The students fell into three categories, one, they knew and didn't care, two, they didn't know because they were lazy and the lack of hands justified their laissez-faire attitude toward their schooling, or three, they, like Hermione, were too nervous to draw attention to themselves. Some classes had one or two who relished in showing off and would raise their hand at every question while reciting passages from the book almost verbatim, but, to his relief, there were none in this class.
"Anyone?" he asked again.
The lot of them looked around, waiting for someone to raise their hands. He picked out one of the girls Hermione had been nervously sizing up earlier. He'd made a point of calling on both of them since he had figured out they were among the eight responsible for the cat-incident, and though it was perhaps petty, he wanted to do something. Luckily they had given him plenty of excuses to deduct points and assign detentions.
"Miss Vane?" he called.
The girl stopped playing with her black hair and sat at attention, her pale eyes staring past him rather than at him. "Y-yessir?"
"Universal poison and venom antidote, Miss Vane," he folded his arms. "This should just be review for you. Care to remind everyone here the answer to this first year question?"
Vane swallowed and turned to the red haired girl, McDonald, next to her who shrugged. Other Gryffindors looked apprehensive while the bulk of the Slytherins sniggered, despite their equal inability to recall something so fundamental.
"If you're capable of absorbing any information at all I suggest you pay attention, you stupid girl."
Hermione shrank further, staring at the two girls before casting her gaze downward.
Don't call out her friends, don't call out her bullies, can't win, can I?
"A bezoar," he said. "It's found in the stomach of a goat and can neutralize almost any poison or venom. Write this down, it's fundamental and should be ingrained in your little brains by now. I don't suppose there's anyone here who can tell me what venom a bezoar cannot neutralize? Anyone?"
Once again they all traded confused looks. His eyes went to the back of the room and found one of the Weasley twins looking downward at Hermione's hand-perhaps she was bleeding again. Hermione kept her gaze on her notes, but he thought he saw Weasley's mouth move. You two have to make every class terrible, even when you aren't trying.
"Mr. Weasley seems to have something to say on the subject, care to enlighten us?"
The boy snapped to attention, acutely aware of the eyes that turned to him. He settled adopting a forced laissez-faire attitude and spoke. "Basilisk venom."
"Surprisingly, Mr. Weasley is correct. You wouldn't happen to know what can neutralize basilisk venom, do you?"
Both twins exchanged a look before turning their heads to a very detached Hermione. He rolled his eyes, the girl was in the hospital for the better part of four months and thrust into a program two years above her age level, and she was the one that knew the answer? She looked so lost, he'd just expected that she would be behind rather than ahead. Though, her knowing the answer to that question didn't make him feel any less like he'd just thrown his baby to the wolves.
"Anyone else?" he said trying not to linger on the thought.
To his surprise two hands nervously snaked into the air. The owners of the hands were also suspect, one belonged to O'Malley who never volunteered information without being called upon, and Johnson, who performed well enough, but like the rest of the damn quidditch team couldn't be bothered participating in class unless she absolutely had to. Neither of them had time to exchange notes, which meant they came upon the answer themselves.
"Miss Johnson?" he asked.
"Phoenix tears, sir," she said.
"Correct," he nodded. "Now for the practical portion. Grab your in-progress antidotes. Everything will be-" Shit... "in the cupboard. As always, instructions are on the board."
For the rest of the class he watched Hermione scramble to keep up with her older peers, her eyes so often drifting to the more well-done potions before casting a judging look at her own antidote. This was a precise process and she couldn't use her little tricks to speed along the maturation, despite her obvious discomfort at being behind her peers, forgetting about their obvious head start.
He thought that it spoke to more aspects of her life than her classes. Hermione wasn't the type to accept having different expectations than those around her. The frail little girl refused to acknowledge any of her physical limitations, then in an attempt to over compensate she did everything she could to excel academically causing her physical condition to worsen and her mental condition-oh, he was certain she had some kind of mental disorder as well- unravel.
His thoughts were interrupted when a plume of smoke rose from the back of the room to an eruption of coughing. Luckily, it was contained to the culprit's cauldron, one of the Weasley twins cackled between coughs while the other joined him, accompanied by Jordan and Johnson. His eyes drifted to Hermione in the corner coughing and wheezing into the wall rather, ignoring the incompetent soot covered boy beside her.
Students all turned in their seats to see the display. Many laughing. He thought of the undersized, wheezing blue baby he brought to Saint Mungo's all those years ago. She could hardly be the only child their with lung problems, yet the lot of them found the idea of smoke inhalation simply hilarious.
Severus walked up to the back row and the laughter died. Hermione continued coughing, clutching her chest while O'Malley turned in his seat to look on her. He also seemed unaware of Severus's presence.
"You alright, sunshine?" O'Malley whispered.
"Fine," she coughed. "I'm fine."
"I doubt it," he said disappearing the smoke.
The two of them straightened, or in Hermione's case attempted to. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery, it seemed the smoke drifted in her direction before Weasley contained it. She stopped clutching her chest and tried not to look pained, but she couldn't stop wheezing. Her voice was an unsettling mixture of scratchy and squeaky.
"Shit," Jordan said looking at her face.
"Fine," she managed.
"Come with me," he sighed, helping her up. "Weasley, O'Malley, stay here. The rest of you idiots are excused."
"So I can leave now?" Hermione said not wanting to be in the hospital for another second that year.
Pomfrey pursed her lips and shrugged. "Yes, I suppose you'll be away from smoke for sometime. I thought your father gave you powdered Mauna Loa? Or I assumed, you haven't asked me for a refill."
Hermione felt her cheeks flush and she stared at her feet. I-erm-I-" she took a deep breath, no longer finding pleasure and relief in the air filling her lungs. "Erm, I haven't had an episode since I was nine, so I just didn't bother getting any when I enrolled."
"Merlin, girl," Pomfrey rolled her eyes passing her a small vial with white and green powder. "Keep this up and your father will be right about how sick you are."
"Thank you," Hermione rolled her own eyes.
Hermione's father chronically underestimated her, and Hermione read about chronic respiratory conditions. She just barely qualified-her immune system reacted a little too harshly to the smoke, she got out of breath quicker than her peers, but she wasn't constantly doubled over or gasping for air. Her body-at least pre-transfiguration- was almost normal. Honestly, she hated her nerves more than her lungs and stomach, which really only acted up when she was nervous. Same for her inability to get warm, her fatigue...her brain was already irreparably broken, she wanted to pretend her body wasn't. Though recently-hell her whole life- she felt like both were a prison.
How the hell is your mind a prison if you are your mind? Stupid piece of shit.
Hermione listened to Pomfrey lecture her about taking care of herself, echoing the many, many lectures she'd heard from her father over the years. To the point that she wondered if the two compared notes. She was free to go and headed for herbology wondering if it would go any better.
"I am so sorry, Hermione," Fred whispered as they queued in front of the green house.
"I told you, I'm fine," she forced a smile. "My father wasn't too harsh was he?"
Fred gave a sardonic laugh. "Had to clean up the classroom while he yelled."
"Failed the assignment," George added. "But we reckon he would have anyway, what with the fire."
"Oh, and I have detention," he said.
"A whole week of it," George nodded.
"And cost us twenty points."
"And wrote home."
"Completely reasonable," Fred finished. "For Snape."
"Damn it," Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I am so sorry!"
Fred swallowed. "I thought I was sorry. Besides it's a pittance compared to what Ivy and Violet got last month. Are you sure you're fine?"
Hermione lifted her face from her hands and sighed. She did not want to think about Ivy and Violet's punishments, nor their inevitable retaliation. "I keep telling you I'm fine. Why does no one believe me when I say it? He over reacted, the man made me write him daily when I went to Japan." Shit, the journal!
Fred and George looked at each other before shrugging and changing the subject. It didn't last. Once they set about harvesting bubolar pus Hermione was hounded with sincere and ironic questions after her welfare. Violet Vane and Ivy MacDonald pretended to choke at different points to the laughter of three other girls Hermione didn't know the names of. She slowly shifted her way down to Skylar, who she spied working alone in a far corner, they were given a wide breadth for some reason. Here she saw two opportunities, get away from everyone and to give the rather lonely Skylar company.
Unless they don't want company. They might like being alone-and even if they did want company, why would they want you? Gah! Fuck you, brain, they tolerate me.
"Hermione?" Skylar's black eyebrows knit in confusion above their amber eyes. "I thought you were in second year?"
"Got pushed up to fourth year," she sighed kneeling by the bulboubar plant. "Care if I work here? I just need to-"
Skylar knelt beside her moving their black braid off their shoulder. "Believe me, I get it," they sighed.
The two examined the wilting plant and Hermione grimaced thinking about the wield. "I don't think you got a healthy one."
"But that doesn't mean it's a lost cause, does it?" they smiled wistfully at the plant.
"Harry, Ron!" Hermione sat next to them at a table. "I think I've fig-"
"So you are talking to us?" Ron glared at her.
The common room was nearly empty, Hermione was worried that by the time she finally got back to the common room that they would have gone to bed. She'd been hiding out in the secret passage in the library where she'd once practiced spells. She should have prioritized talking to Harry and Ron, but she couldn't take the mixture of pity and disdain right now. She was-well, afraid she'd cry if she dealt with anymore.
"I'm sorry?" she shrank beneath his gaze.
"You told us you'd be back last night and you just disappeared till now!" Ron snapped.
"Oh, erm," she clasped her hands together. "I fell asleep. I didn't wake up until minutes before I had to be in class. Sorry."
"Oh," Ron flushed pink and averted his gaze. "Sorry."
Harry tapped the journal looking at her with a drawn face before running a hand through his untidy black hair. "We have some bad news-but if you figured something out, why don't you go first?"
Hermione lowered her voice and leaned in before scanning the room to ensure it was empty. "Have you tried writing in it? There are enchantments that-"
"Actually, I did last night," Harry said. "And it wrote back to me."
Hermione swallowed. That was her theory, but a chill ran down her spine as she thought about the person on the other end of the enchantment. She dug her fingernails into her hands and searched Harry's green eyes. They shared a silent dread and Hermione waited with baited breath for more details.
"He-Tom-told me about the last time the chamber opened Hermione," he said slowly. "he was a student here and...it was Hagrid. The creature was a pet of Hagrid's."
Hermione eyed the journal with suspicion. It just occurred to her she had no clue what Hagrid had been expelled for, but Dumbledore would never have kept him around if he had done it. "Harry, are you absolutely certain you can trust this Tom character? He might be trying to fra-"
"He's not some bloke on the other end of an enchantment, Hermione," Harry gestured to the journal. "He is the diary. Said he put part of his consciousness into it."
"That just makes me more suspicious, Harry!" she snapped. "Ron, tell him! You're dad-"
Ron shifted uncomfortably. "I don't trust it either, but it's the only lead we have, Hermione. We've been working on this since November and all we have are pipes and a basilisk? And we don't know about the reflection theory for sure, mind."
Hermione bit her lip and picked at her hands. "Look, I know Hagrid likes his dangerous pets. But not even he would be inclined to keep a fucking basilisk."
"But that's just it," Harry argued. "We don't know it's a basilisk! I saw the monster. It scurried pretty quickly, but I reckon it was like a giant tarantula. At least the size of a cat!"
Ron shuddered at the thought and Hermione couldn't blame him this time. Agromantula's were terrifying. But she could think of someone else who would react with more than a shudder at the thought of a full-grown agromantula.
"Hagrid's agromantula isn't the beast!" Hermione hissed. "Salazar Slytherin was an arachnaphobe! Am I the only one who remembers a sentence from those books on Slytherin?"
This fell on deaf ears, she knew from the exasperated expressions exchanged. Harry then rolled his eyes and leaned in as if he were speaking to a frightened child. "Listen, Hermione."
"I'm listening," she sighed digging her nails further into her flesh.
"I like Hagrid too. But we know he has the worst taste in pets. Tom seemed to think it was responsible for Myrtle's death."
"And what are Tom's motives?" Hermione asked. "Maybe-"
"No, listen, Hermione," Harry continued. "We have to see if it's true. We should see if we can figure out. You can confirm the dates by the archives, maybe seeing it yourself might help."
"And if it's a coincidence?" Hermione asked. "Maybe we should ask Hagrid?"
"That'll be lovely to discuss over tea!" Ron scoffed. "How do you fancy it'll go? 'keeping any great beasts lying around, Hagrid?' And what happened to all that 'grown-ups are all evil' kick you've been on? You're bloody mental."
"Oh, Hagrid doesn't count!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll check the archives before classes. Just be careful what you tell 'Tom'."
"Pfft!" Ron rolled his eyes. "He sounds like Percy, he's a prat not sinister."
Hermione slipped into the archives as soon as the library opened at seven a.m greeting Pince with a smile and a claim that she was nervous she'd fall behind.
"You're really going all-out on your history projects this year," Pince observed over her glasses as she unlocked the door to the archives.
"You know how obsessive I can be," Hermione forced a laugh and shrugged.
"That I do," she sighed. "You know the rules."
"One page out of place and you'll crucify me," Hermione sang.
"Good girl," Pince nodded.
Hermione lit her wand and descended the stairs. Pince hadn't lit the lamps yet. She followed the spiral staircase to the rows of shelves and filing cabinets along the walls. She wanted disciplinary records. She ducked into the far corner and began looking through the 1942-43 files trying to find Hagrid's expulsion. She combed through the year to no avail.
Where the hell is it?!
"Shit!" Hermione hissed.
"Language," a voice behind her tutted.
"Gah!" she squeaked, and jumped, spinning to face her Severus and sending papers flying around them. "Sorry!"
She knelt and started collected the flung papers from the ground.
He stood with his arms folded of his chest with a file-folder in his hand and tried to keep his voice down. "You, young lady, are to explain what has brought you to peruse disciplinary files before eight o'clock."
What the hell was she doing there and alone? Did she not listen to a single word he said? He went to grab the file that should have never been public record in the first place on Dumbledore's behalf. He did not expect her to be milling about at such an early hour and he very much doubted this had nothing to do with the chamber.
"1942 October, Weymouth Fern," she muttered picking up a file, placing it in the proper place. "I, erm, I, y-you see-" Hermione fumbled with ordering the stack of papers in her hands and began reviewing their order. "nineteen-"
Avoiding the question, classic Hermione, He rolled his eyes and drew his wand, the papers flew from her hands and reordered themselves before landing neatly into the file which he snatched from the air before tucking his wand back in his robes. He glared at her a moment before skimming through the files. 1942-43.
"Why the hell am I not surprised?"
Hermione, still on her knees, clasped her hands together and stared at the ground. He wondered what she was thinking at that moment. He'd expected her to get to her feet, to speak. Instead she looked rather like she was praying, or at least withdrawing to her thoughts. Hermione occupied the real world only slightly more than her new little friend Lovegood.
"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape," he said. "Just what the hell do you think you are doing?"
"I, erm," she squeaked. "I-shi-gah! I, erm-"
"Out with it!" he spat.
Hermione bit her lip before steadying her breath and digging her nails in to the backs of her hands. "I-heard-a-rumour-Hagrid-released-the-creature-last-time-and-that's-why-he-was-expelled!" she said at top speed.
"He wouldn't still be here if that was the case, surely you know that?" he asked coolly. "From whom did you hear these rumours?"
"Older girls in the toilet," Hermione sighed. "I heard it in passing. I just needed proof he didn't-"
"You little idiot!" he knelt beside her and opened the lone file in his hands pointing at individual words as he read over her shoulder. "21 March 1943. Name of Student: Hagrid, Rubeus, Age: 14. Punishment: Expulsion, Disciplinary Overseers: Professor Armando Dippet (Headmaster), Professor Albus Dumbledore, Gryffindor Head. Infraction Report: Hagrid kept nursed a sick agromantula back to health in a cupboard in the dungeons. There are no witnessed attacks, but Slytherin prefect Tom Riddle-" He tripped over the name "-saw it flee the school grounds when he confronted Hagrid. There is a suspected connection between the creature and the petrified students as well as the death of Myrtle Warren-"
"But agromantulas can't petrify," Hermione muttered in a quiet voice as she read ahead.
Amendment : The attacks have stopped after the expulsion of Rubeus Hagrid and the fleeing of his creature. We believe that the issue of the Chamber of Secrets has been resolved
-A. Dippet.
"They didn't interview Myrtle to be sure before expelling him?" she whispered.
"I assume you've gotten to the end then," he jabbed his finger at it. "There. Notice the assertion that the issue is resolved. If you were naively hoping to exonerate the man, you'll find no proof in old files. Tell me you weren't hoping to show this to anyone with the assertion agromantula venom doesn't petrify?"
Hermione continued to scan the document, perhaps, like him, looking for some detail to point to the true culprit. Severus wondered if his daughter thought he was framed as well. Though he didn't believe she'd heard it in a toilet, unless Moaning Myrtle suddenly became cooperative. He recognized the desperation in her eyes as she tried to dig up information that just wasn't there.
"I'm showing you this," he said attempting to soften his voice. "Because there is nothing you can possibly dig up. The headmaster and I knew about the incident, all the professors do. I, too, wanted something to throw against any who'd accuse him. But it won't work."
"But-"
"Will it kill you to listen to me once?" he snapped. "Stay out of this."
"But, sir-"
"Silence!" he hissed.
Hermione averted her gaze, her hair concealing her like a bushy blanket, and took her hand back before wringing them together. She shifted on her feet uncomfortably, perhaps thinking about Hagrid's fate or how she was going to fix the situation. Why couldn't she just do as she was told? Once again he found himself wondering how her own safety meant so little to her.
"Listen to me," he placed the file back in the appropriate cabinet. "I know you have a personal stake in this, but there is absolutely nothing you can do. You could very well make thing worse. Indeed, it could much worse.
For yourself and others. The best thing you can do is stay out of the way."
Hermione stood still and silent as the grave, her hands stopped wringing in favour of clasping them together again. He moved her hair from her face and her expression was one of deep contemplation. She bit her lip and her eyes remained fixed at a point on her hand. He wondered what her dilemma was for a moment before lifting her face by the chin. Hermione blinked in confusion before adapting a more challenging expression.
I didn't want to do this...Severus searched her eyes, gleaning surface thoughts from her confused mind. There was an image of the Weasley girl clutching a diary in tears under a cherry tree, the next image was of her Potter and Weasley discussing something in low voices which he held for a second before a Polar bear crying out into the void as it drifted away on a thin glacier until it fell in. He pushed past the bear to find a book passage, but before he could linger long enough to read it, the image changed again, to the half-cat Hermione hissing at a letter-he knew which that was-then he saw Weasley and Potter escorting her covered in black fur down a dark corridor an stamping her foot as she cried out in frustration. The last image were the two of them in his office, she stared at up at him, her doe-like brown eyes filled with angry tears and she backed away from him repulsed.
"I trusted you!" her voice echoed in his mind. Was he surprised she still thought about it? He wasn't even sure which one of them had been thinking about her finding out he'd altered her memory. "I trusted you!" Those words haunted him.
Hermione looked up at him once again with furious tears in her eyes as she backed away. "Tell me you didn't just-" she broke off and choked.
Only seconds passed, but he feared he might have tipped his hand trying to linger on certain images, and pushing past the white bear, he'd never done that before because he didn't want her to know what he was doing. What was worse was that he'd found nothing of use, he'd betrayed her trust again, but this time it was for nothing. All he got was an image from a dream, a conversation he couldn't interpret and a book he couldn't read. That and reminder of his betrayals. Could he deny it?
"Tell you I didn't just do what, love?" he asked softly. Coward!
Hermione looked around the room before clasping her hands once more and biting her lip. She took a shaky breath before looking at him. "D-did you just-" she stared at him a moment and he saw her conviction give way to doubt."Forget it," she sighed and buried her face in her hands. "I'm just- Ugh!" I don't know!"
"You have been through quite a bit recently, haven't you, love?" he placed his hand on her head.
All you ever do is lie! Hermione's voice rang through his head.
"Do you need a Calming Solution?" he asked. You have no fucking clue what you're doing!
"I'm fine," she said in a quiet voice.