Hope is a Dangerous Thing
Five
1998
Hermione often had trouble sleeping. Rather than have to lie awake with only her thoughts, she would often have to resort to other distractions. Some nights she would pass the time reading. Some nights she would wander the hallways. Some nights, when the moon was bright, she would go outside and simply watch the stars.
Tonight, she had chosen to wander the hallways. She never usually encountered anyone or anything on her late night wanderings - the ghosts mostly knew to leave her be these days.
She had meandered her way down the Grand Staircase and now found herself standing in the Entrance Hall. She was considering heading down to the kitchens, wondering if the house-elves would mind if she started a late-night baking session, when she frowned. It was a distinct smell, acrid in nature, that diverted her attention. She vaguely recognised it and looked towards the door that led down into the dungeons. Without giving further thought, she walked over and pulled it open. Looking down the staircase, she could see the sconces were lit. As far as she knew, the dungeons were currently empty of any occupants.
Hermione descended the steps and could immediately detect the smell was becoming stronger. She followed it past the Potions classroom and found herself pausing outside a door further down the hallway. There was a small strip of light shining beneath it, but no discernible noise emanated from within.
She reached out, expecting the door to be locked, but it wasn't. She opened it and quickly found herself gaping wildly. There was a cauldron that was overcome by a clearly ruined mixture, which had surged out across the workstation. The erstwhile brewer was sitting on a bench, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs, looking vaguely stricken and his pallor greyer than usual.
'What on earth are you doing?' She demanded loudly.
The figure jumped to his feet at the sight of her.
She had known he had recovered to the point that he was sat up and awake most of the day. But, clearly, she had underestimated his condition if he was able to steal around the castle at night, unaided, brewing potions in his slippers and dressing gown.
'I am going straight to the Headmistress.'
He leapt forward, suddenly, to block her path and Hermione was sure she had never seen him move so fast. He shook his head vehemently and slumped heavily against the door to shut it tight. At the state of him, Hermione thought she could have easily manhandled him out of the way if she had wished to.
His voice had not yet returned and the quill that now perpetually hovered around him suddenly started scratching in mid air. 'You will not,' was written into the air, imperious even in print.
'You are not supposed to leave the Hospital Wing,' she hissed. 'Merlin, we didn't even know you were able to get out of bed!'
He scowled and nudged her arm in an indication she should follow him back to the table. He threw out his arm and pointed his finger at something on top of it. Hermione saw it was a potions text, quite clearly from the restricted section of the library, and she scanned the pages quickly, looking at him in surprise.
He nodded, bringing his hand to his neck.
'You tried to brew this?'
He nodded again.
Hermione looked at the ingredients and method again, briefly. 'It looks highly complex,' she observed carefully.
'Really, Granger?' suddenly blazed large over his shoulder.
She scowled now. 'Well, look at the mess you have made! I mean, you are clearly not fit enough!' Hermione looked at the mangled cauldron and felt an overwhelming sense of irony. 'Been a while since you melted a cauldron, I expect,' she mused lightly.
It never failed to give her a terrible buzz to speak so brazenly to him, knowing his own weaponry was out of action. It was fiendish of her to take such an advantage, but she'd quite got used to it now.
He gave her a venomous look.
'Oh, I won't tell anyone, obviously.' She smiled, then she conjured a glass of water and held it out to him, conciliatory.
He took it and there was a visible tremor, which she pretended not to see. She took note that he chose to sit down again and she swallowed a sigh. Biting her lip, she turned and Banished the mess. Then she turned back to the workbench and began tidying away the ingredients and implements. Some things would be salvageable for a second attempt, she decided. Some items would need to be replenished, but it would be no bother. When she was done, she turned back to him. He watched her and she thought he seemed more steady now.
Nevertheless, the words 'I'm fucked, Granger,' materialised into the air in front of her.
She raised her eyebrows slightly at his turn of phrase and chose to be diplomatic. 'You need more time to rebuild your strength; that is all.'
The quill began to move. 'You will have to brew it for me.'
Hermione read the words with no surprise. 'Indeed,' she replied. 'I can do it, you know.'
He nodded tersely, before rubbing a hand across his face and into his hair. It seemed to her a tired gesture. He appeared frail, but she knew it was only a matter of time, especially if he could recover the use of his vocal chords.
'I will brew it, though I fail to see why we cannot tell Professor McGonagall. She will go nuts if she finds out what you have done. Anyone could have seen you.'
He waved a hand dismissively, 'She does not need to know.'
'Why? Were you worried she might offer to brew it for you?'
At his sharp look of horror, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. When she had asked questions about the Potions N.E.W.T the Headmistress had confided in her that Potions was not her forte.
'Minerva has enough to keep her occupied.'
She read the words, but when she dropped her eyes to him, his head was bowed, his attention focused on the water in the glass. She wondered if the issue lay more with a struggle to deal with the obvious concern the elder woman showed him. She was sure there must be no one else to care about him, else they would be in on the secret too.
'What will you do,' she found herself asking suddenly, 'when your health, and your voice, is returned?'
He shrugged, without looking at her. Despite her earlier observation that she liked not having to face his cutting comments, she realised that she hoped for the return of his ability to speak. She could tell he was becoming accustomed to communicating via gestures and expressions. It left no scope for a true conversation. More than that, he seemed to use it as an excuse simply not to say anything, which particularly frustrated her.
'Well, we know where we are, please return to the Hospital Wing, now.' She stepped aside indicating he should lead the way.
He did as bidden, without another word, and they walked back to the Hospital Wing in silence. Hermione was on edge all the way, once again thinking about what a risk he had taken. When they reached the spiral stairs, he disappeared up them with neither a look nor a written word. The door was shut firmly and she stood silently in contemplation for a few moments, before retreating to her own rooms.
The following morning, when she entered the Hospital Wing, ready with a plan of action for the brew, she was met with a surprising tableau. Snape, she noted, was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, staring into the flames. Professor McGonagall stood to one side conversing with Madam Pomfrey. All three turned to look at her entrance.
'Ah, Hermione,' greeted Minerva with a wide smile, stepping towards her. 'As you can see, Severus is feeling much improved and is out of bed at last. We have decided that he can arrange his own medication from here. Your assistance has been invaluable, my dear, thank you.'
Hermione blinked. Invaluable, but no longer required. 'Right, of course,' she acknowledged, giving Minerva and Poppy a small smile. As she turned to leave, she slid her gaze discreetly to the fireplace.
He flicked her a sharp, loaded look in return. Her assumption that he had given only a half-truth to the Headmistress was likely correct then.
She was followed out onto the landing by Minerva, who shut the door behind her. 'My dear, I really am so grateful for your help. I never thought we would be able to return him back to life again.'
'There is no need to thank me,' Hermione replied, touched by the older woman's sincerity.
'There is still some way to go, of course.'
Hermione nodded her agreement, but after a small pause, asked, 'But what then?'
The Headmistress's expression faltered slightly. 'I do not know yet… That is Severus's decision, I suppose.'
Hermione briefly considered asking what she thought that decision would likely be, but at the last moment, decided not to. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know. She squeezed Minerva's arm slightly and turned to descend the stairs. Thwarted slightly, but not put off, Hermione decided to proceed with her day as planned.
She travelled via Floo to Diagon Alley where she spent a quick hour gathering her purchases. A brief visit to Knockturn Alley would also be necessary. She arrived back at the Hospital Wing late morning, and as she anticipated, the coast was now clear.
He was still stationed at the fireplace, but she could see he had been reading. She slumped down into the chair opposite and tugged her scarf free. 'So,' she announced briskly. 'There are some basic supplies that remain in the store cupboard, but I have been to London to source the rest.' She motioned to her bag.
He merely observed her for a time, then the quill started dancing in the air.
'You have been busy.'
'You owe me forty galleons.'
He inclined his head.
'The castle will be quite empty this weekend. Professor McGonagall is away visiting family. I have to visit the Burrow Saturday, but I shall return by the evening. Then I will begin.'
He inclined his head again.
She considered for a moment, something that she had been thinking about for most of the morning. 'I will brew it alone, if agreeable…' There was no way she could do it with him lurking about, observing. Critiquing.
He smirked a little to himself. 'Fine.'
'Excellent,' she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. 'Tea? I've been perfecting my baking skills lately, with the help of the elves. Now that your appetite is back, you can be my judge.'
She flicked her wand and a plateful of cauldron cakes floated in front of him. She noticed he looked mildly taken aback. 'They're perfectly edible,' she assured, with a laugh, taking one for herself.
She took her chair and pulled out the potions text to study. It was not totally a pretext, but it helped justify her presence. It had not escaped her notice that she now had no real reason to be there. She hoped this would not be the end of things. The past few weeks had only nurtured her interest and her intrigue - she had the questions, but only he held the answers.
She must have read through the recipe and method multiple times now, and had made a few of her own notes as well. The potion itself was some sort of non-specific restorative draught, but she noted that its use tended towards neutralising poisons or, indeed, venom. Out of curiosity, she had flicked through the whole of the book and, truthfully, was grateful his pick was on the tamer side of things.
After what she estimated to be about ten minutes, she risked a glance upwards. There was no written demand that she leave, at least, but he simply sat there, staring vacantly into the fire, statue-like, a half-eaten cake forgotten in his hand. Once again, Hermione felt the silence bear down on her awkwardly and she fought not to fidget under it. Looking back at the book, she considered trying to engage him with some superfluous question about the recipe. She knew it would be pointless, though.
Making her mind up, she closed the book and took a breath.
'Actually, what is the point in delaying? I will make a start on this straightaway. I will curtail my visit to the Burrow tomorrow in order to tend to the final stage on time.'
He blinked and the quill started to swirl, but she held up a hand. 'It is decided - the sooner we can resolve this, the better.'
Without further ado, she gathered her things together and left, breathing a sigh of relief to be out of there. She only hoped it would work, and maybe then it might animate him a little.
As anticipated, it took about a day and a half to complete. It had not been an overly difficult brew, but it had required significant concentration and stamina for the complex stirring techniques. She could see why he would have stumbled over it in his weakened state, but she was confident she had got it right - it looked exactly as it should. And yet, come the Saturday night, standing at the bottom of the stairs to the turret with the flask in hand, cogitating, she nevertheless felt the usual pangs of self-doubt.
Gritting her teeth, she took to the stairs and entered the chamber. Now that he was in more control of his surroundings, he kept the room almost perpetually in a dull glow.
'Good evening,' she called out.
She wasn't sure, but she thought he might have been sleeping in the chair. In a moment, though, he rose to his feet. He immediately held out his hand, and Hermione knew what was coming next. He took the flask and began examining it. He held it up to the light, tilting it this way and that, before unstoppering it and smelling it.
She thought there might be some further deliberation or discussion warranted, but to her complete surprise, he gestured the flask at her, with 'Cheers' writ large in the air, and he downed it quickly.
The effect was instantaneous. The flask smashed loudly onto the flagstones as he brought both hands up to clutch at his throat. As his knees gave way, she lurched forward in time to grasp an arm and slow his descent to the floor. She also sank to her knees beside him, feeling her blood running cold at the strange gurgling sound he was emitting.
Then he started coughing violently. Hermione tried to steady him, but the coughs wracked his body so much he had to lean forward and use his palms on the floor to brace himself.
'What do I need to do?' Hermione cried, looking for any movement from the quill. There was nothing. 'Are you choking?'
She grasped his shoulder as he continued to cough and, with her other hand, swept a swathe of hair from around his face. When she saw blood spit forth, she felt her body begin to tremble.
'I need to get help,' she said to him, deciding she needed to wake Madam Pomfrey.
'No,' he rasped out raggedly.
Hermione froze at the sound. He took in several shuddering breaths before twisting onto his side, into a sitting position. 'I just need a minute,' he whispered. He sat, head bowed, chest heaving painfully.
Hermione conjured a handkerchief and shifted towards him. She almost reached out again to pluck away the hair that was splayed over his face, but instead, she simply shoved the handkerchief into his line of sight. He took it and wiped a smear of blood from his chin, then coughed into it. This time it sounded less violent.
'Are you sure you are all right?'
He nodded and a few moments passed where the coughing subsided. Hermione sat back, then, breathing a loud sigh of relief. 'I thought I was going to have to tell Professor McGonagall I killed you.'
She noticed his shoulders started shaking a little and she realised he was chuckling.
'Glad you think it's funny,' she muttered, wondering when her heart would stop racing.
He lifted his head up and rubbed viciously at his neck.
'Is it hurting?' she asked.
He nodded again, but then he swallowed and forced out in a rough rasp, 'Like the Devil.'
'Shall I get you some pain reliever?'
He jerked his head towards the mantelpiece where there was a decanter of firewhiskey. 'Best pain relief there is.'
Hermione privately begged to differ, but proceeded to get up and distill some into a tumbler. She handed it to him, whereupon he downed it again in one go. He grimaced and shuddered violently. 'Fuck,' she heard him mutter, spluttering into the handkerchief again. Afterwards, he closed his eyes and let out a long deep breath. In a moment, he started trying to get to his feet.
'Here,' she said, stepping forward and proffering her hand when he seemed to dither.
He took it and she grasped his elbow to help propel him up. Once up, he immediately screwed his eyes shut and clenched her hand tightly. For a moment, she thought he might vomit all over her.
'I must… lie down…'
She guided him across to the bed. When he relinquished his hold on her, practically collapsing atop the bedcovers, she was left simply to watch as he seemed to immediately fall into some sort of vaguely unnatural slumber.
'Right,' she murmured to herself, flexing her fingers as if to loosen the feel of his ice cold grip further.
Blinking in a daze, she turned to clear away the smashed up flask and also picked up the whiskey tumbler. There was nothing to be done other than to leave him to sleep it off, she decided, and hope he was correct in his assertion he would be all right. She gave one last look to the bed and, to her surprise, the quill hovered overhead with the words 'Thank you, Granger,' floating beside it.
Hermione cast Finite Incantatem at the quill, before slipping out quietly through the door, a distinctly self-satisfied smirk on her face.
A/N: Thanks, all, for your comments, and for taking the time to read : )