Hello hello! Hope everyone is doing well! I finally go back to work at the end of the week and so I'm writing frantically to calm my nerves.
Also, in the last week I've had a string of like 3 different story ideas, some of which I cannot WAIT to explore. However, I don't want to start anything new until I've finished this one, so they're on the backbench for a good long while.
Hope you enjoy! As usual, your reviews, follows, and favorites give me LIFE! Please keep them coming!
"Remember, a patronus can be cast by filling your mind with happy memories and allowing yourself to be enveloped by those thoughts, but a corporeal patronus can only be cast by visualizing an incredibly powerful memory, one that fills your heart with happiness. This will serve to push back the dark emotions that dementors feast on, and keep them at bay. A corporeal patronus is incredibly difficult to do, and it will take work. Don't be discouraged if you don't manage it straight away."
Hermione watched Harry patrol awkwardly around the Room of Requirement, still not used to the idea of leading their small group. It hadn't taken that much convincing for Harry to get on board, and once the other students had listened to him effectively shoot them down they were surprisingly willing to join up. There had been concerns over secrecy, but Hermione was pretty sure she'd covered their bases. She had charmed the signup sheet with a simple but effective jinx that would render a member speechless should they choose to mention the D.A to anyone outside of their group. If she was being honest, she didn't think it was that impressive. Anyone could learn that jinx, and it was some basic charmwork that should have been a fairly obvious precaution. What she was proud of was the inclusion of a charmed galleon for each member. She'd added a protean charm to the fake galleons so that she could send out meeting times, therefore Umbridge and her awful cronies wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. The protean charm was NEWT level, and she couldn't help but feel smug that she'd been able to master it without help. Plus, people probably wouldn't think to consider they were using advanced magic, at least she hoped not.
As Harry summoned his patronus - a gorgeous stag which stood regal and proud - she thought about what memory might work. When had she truly felt happiest? Finding out she was a witch was up there, she remembered she had wanted to cry when she got her reading list. In fact, the whole week leading up to the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts was like a beautiful dream. Picking out her wand at Ollivanders, the pride she saw in his eyes when the wand finally chose her. Getting measured for her school robes, swishing around her cloak and feeling like an actual witch! Not to mention Flourish and Blotts, seeing all the different subjects for the first time, subjects she had never even dreamed of, it was wondrous. How do you pick just one memory from that? Maybe if she just thought of those experiences as a whole, after all they were all incredibly happy memories. Pushing them to the forefront of her mind, she held out her wand and cast "Expecto Patronum!".. And nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. She could see the faint silvery strands project from her wand but nothing near powerful enough to keep a dementor at bay. And definitely not close to being corporeal. Grumbling to herself she went back to the drawing board. Those were definitely the happiest memories she had, so why weren't they enough? She played them out again in her head, and as she did she frowned. As she re-lived them, she felt the familiar warmth of joy, but something else was there. A feeling that seemed to belong in her gut, something akin to fear. What was this? She continued to let the memories play out. She recalled packing her new school supplies into her over-sized trunk. She recalled saying goodbye to her parents and even though they were crying, she couldn't help but be too excited to worry. She recalled the train journey to Hogwarts, meeting Harry and Ron for the first time and being over the moon that she had already made friends.. Even if they didn't seem too enthused about it. She recalled the overwhelming glee as the Sorting Hat shouted out "Gryffindor!" and thinking she had finally found her home.
And then she remembered the afterwards. All the times in her first year where she didn't fit in. Those times when the library was the only comforting place. Those times where the other girls in the dorm would leave her out of the conversations even when she asked to join in. The times where simply knowing the answer was enough to be laughed at. That's why those memories didn't work. Her entire experience of getting to go to Hogwarts had been tainted by actually going to Hogwarts, and the realization that magic school or muggle school, she was still an unlikable know-it-all. She sighed, quickly realizing that her eyes were stinging. She wiped her sleeve across her face, took some deep breaths and thought again. All of her happy memories were of Hogwarts, but they all seemed to be followed by something bad. Then, as if answering some unspoken prayer, her mind flashed up the image of another memory. A potions desk, the cauldron on top bubbling away. Her hand being cautiously placed in her professor's. Him sitting next to her and cleaning up her wound, his hands calloused but still oddly soft. His smirk. The quiet, gentle way he had spoken. "You should seek to use your blinding intellect and wits to show strength over an opponent." He had called her intelligent. Blindingly intelligent. The first instance of recognition she had ever had from him. And then he had stood up for her. Advocated for her. Singled her out and stated her importance to him. She had finally gained a modicum of respect from a teacher she admired, and unlike her experiences in class, there hadn't been a snide comment or vicious put-down to follow it. She smiled. Whereas her other memories had been tainted and twisted by pain and sadness, this memory was born out of it. Raising her wand once more, she half-shouted the incantation and watched in wonder as the beautiful form of an otter danced around the room, gliding around her. She could faintly hear Harry congratulating her, but she was so far away in that moment that it barely registered. She smiled again.
A thick snow had begun to fall as the school week came to a close. Winter was in full swing, and Christmas was fast approaching. Much to the professors' frustrations, students were definitely in 'holiday mode' and even though the pressure was ramping up in preparation for OWLs, it was hard to care too much when the thought of presents and Christmas dinner were on the horizon. Harry and Ron had practically begged Hermione to help them get their final assignments in before term finished, and even though they still weren't back to being what she would consider proper friends, she was hesitant not to help them knowing how important their educations were. For some miraculous reason she had still managed to find time to get her own assignments completed, practice building her occlumency shields, and research the potion for her lesson with Snape that evening. They were brewing Dreamless Sleep, a potion normally reserved for NEWT classes but as ever, Hermione was quietly confident. Ever since her run in with Umbridge, and the strangely uncomfortable brewing session that had followed it, Hermione had found that she was more determined than ever to prove her worth. Frankly, it had been mortifying not being able to cut up a simple ingredient without needing her professor's help, even if being treated by him afterwards gave her strange butterflies that she didn't want to explain.
As this was their last session before the Christmas break, Hermione was determined to get some information out of her professor. Earlier in the week, Harry had come back from his occlumency lesson looking wild. Harry wouldn't tell her anything, just that Snape had ended their lessons and that was that. The way he had said it, it was like he'd seen a ghost. His voice was panicked and shaky, and he was strangely disheveled even though there was no need to be. She had tried to get him to open up about it, but he wouldn't say anything more than "I don't need them anymore". She knew her best friend - okay, best friend on a break - well enough to tell when he was lying, and there was no way that he had gotten good enough to close his mind when he didn't even practice. She needed to know if Harry was sufficiently occluding to protect himself over the Christmas holidays. If he wasn't, she could always ask Professor Snape to check her shields, if they were strong enough then she was sure she could work with Harry over the holidays to get to her point. Either way, she was looking forward to this lesson.
She knocked on the door to the familiar classroom, but didn't hear the usual call from her professor in response. She knocked again. Nothing. Strange, he was usually as punctual as she was. Furrowing her brow, she went to knock a third time when the door flew open and she was met by a slightly wild-eyed Professor Snape. His eyes registered her small form and for a minute she wasn't sure he even knew who she was, but it was only for a moment before the emotional mask had come back up and he was back to the stony-faced potions master she recognized. He didn't say anything, but moved to the side to let her walk in, and Hermione hurried up to the cauldron where she set down her things and began to brew. All notions of striking up a conversation with the dour man seemed to fly out the window in that instant, and although Professor Snape hadn't said anything to her, she got the feeling that it was in her best interests to go straight to brewing.
As she walked through the door, Snape turned sharply and headed back to his desk, robes billowing. With a wand flick, the door shut behind them, plunging the room into silence. Slumping back into his desk chair, he looked down at the pile of papers he still needed to mark before term finished. He also knew he had final assignments to set his 4th, 5th, and 6th years as homework over the holidays, and he still hadn't finished writing them. Running a hand wearily through his jet black hair, he took a deep breath and picked up a quill. He barely paid attention to the young witch in his company scurrying around, he figured that would be the easiest way to get through this lesson. The less he took interest in her work, the faster she would brew and then leave, and he wouldn't need to so much as look at her again. Truthfully, he was scared that if he did, he'd see the disgust and pity she surely had for him in her eyes. If he hadn't pulled his shields up as quickly as he had, she might have noticed the pain and torment in his. He began to scribble angrily in the margins, his spiky handwriting even more pronounced than usual.
Hermione had been working on the potion for 20 minutes, and the longer she did the more uncomfortable she felt. Snape hadn't said a word, and every time she'd looked over at him his eyes had been trained on an essay. She was almost half way through the work when he started to tap. It was a light tapping, rhythmic but - she thought - not deliberate. When she hazarded a glance over at him, she could see he had placed the quill down and was tapping the desk with his right hand ring finger. His left hand was resting against his mouth, and he was staring dead ahead. He didn't seem to be looking at anything, almost like a daydream. But the tapping continued. Trying to ignore it, she went back to her cauldron and continued to brew. Unlike the dull scratching sound his quills had made, she found the constant tapping to be more of a distraction than she thought, and after a while she sighed and turned around.
"Sir, what's bothering you?" Immediately, Snape's eyes snapped into focus and he jerked his head back to the parchment in front, picking up his quill as he did.
"I assure you, my thoughts and feelings are in no way pertinent to the successful brewing of Dreamless Sleep, although I suppose I shouldn't put it past you to find out every needless detail of any person you come into contact with." He practically spat out at her. Her eyes widened and her lips thinned.
"Perhaps then, sir, you could refrain from incessantly tapping so that I might complete this potion in peace?" She hadn't meant to bite back so hard, but for him to snap at her just because she asked if he was okay? She had no intention of being put down for caring. Snape's eyes glistened with anger, and for a minute she thought he might tell her to leave. However, after what seemed like an eternity he let out a heavy sigh through his nose and went back to his parchment.
She found she was hurt by his anger. Didn't he care that she was worried about him? She didn't consider them friends, far from it, but she did consider them to have a cordial teacher-pupil relationship. That was worth something, wasn't it? She resigned herself to watching the cauldron bubble away, checking her tempus charm every few minutes. The room settled back into an eerie silence.
"How long..?" His voice was hushed, the words coming out in barely more than a whisper. For a second she didn't think he'd spoken. Her brain registered a deep *thud* somewhere in the pit of her stomach.
"I'm sorry?"
"The tapping… how long?" She looked at him then, but his hair hung in front of his face covering whatever expression he held. She worried her lip, force of habit.
"About five minutes, sir."
"I see.."
Snape was panicking. He knew he was panicking because apparently he'd been tapping his damn finger without noticing it, so caught up in his thoughts that he was. Snape could feel his barriers breaking, and it was taking all of his concentration to maintain a neutral expression. In his twenty plus years as a spy, he had never once shown any outward signs of distress in front of others, save for Albus in some particularly uncomfortable moments. He prided himself in being a blank page at all times. But here, in his classroom, he'd let enough slip that a child could tell that he was off. It had been a long time since he'd felt this level of panic, mixed with anger and shame and disgust at the idea that a group of the student body now more than likely knew some of his lowest points. Even worse, that the 'brains of the golden trio' was determined to point it out to him, probably to mock him or belittle him further.
"You're not usually this distressed, sir…" Hermione chewed her bottom lip as she debated how to help him. "I'm happy to listen, if there's something you want to get off your chest..?"
He barely heard her. With every last inch of self control, he pushed the intense feelings of shame, embarrassment, guilt, and anger back behind his barely steadfast walls. Either she already knew about Potter's escapades within the pensieve or the arrogant boy had actually held his tongue for once. It bothered him immensely that a part of his brain desperately wanted to know. Wanted to make sure that whatever bizarre 'relationship' had formed between them stayed intact. The other part of his brain wanted to shut it down completely, if only to keep both of them safe. It felt like he had been wrestling with his emotions for hours when she spoke again.
"I'm sorry sir, it's none of my business. Forget I mentioned it." She turned back to the potion, removing the brief stasis charm she had placed on it. Snape made the choice.
"Apologies.. My other.. Extra curricular lessons have been a considerable point of stress as of late.." He hung his head, rubbing his temples slowly to ease the pain, not daring to see her reaction. He was quickly regretting his decision.
"Oh.. Do you mean Harry's Occlumency lessons sir? I had heard they weren't going well.." Snape ground his teeth, allowing a bubble of anger to escape him.
"Yes I'm sure Potter has told you all about his lessons." He snapped, unable to stop himself. He wanted to shut his eyes and pretend he hadn't lost his quickly deteriorating temper, but instead resigned himself to the path he'd taken.
"Um.. Not really.." Hermione worried her lip again, taken back by his sudden outburst. "I mean it didn't look like he was doing very well, but then he never seemed to practice or put in the effort! I know you said he didn't need the lessons anymore sir, but I think you should reconsider. I'm fairly sure he's still having nightmares.." She trailed off, realising she'd been rambling.
Snape contemplated for a moment. She didn't know, or if she did she was hiding it. For what reason would she choose to hide information like that, did she think she could spare his feelings being hurt? Ugh, this was torture! He couldn't organize his thoughts while the witch was still sitting there. She needed to go, he needed her to go.
"Miss Granger, I appear to be suffering from a particularly nasty headache, no doubt brought on from the combination of yours and Potter's infernal need to babble. You may leave the potion as it is, I will find time to finish it tomorrow." He rubbed his temples in a poor attempt to show that he was in pain.
"Sir? I'm nearly done-"
"OUT! Miss Granger. Now." His voice was chilling, colder than it had been in months. Hermione wanted nothing more than to argue the point further, she still wanted to discuss Harry's occlumency progress so that she knew how prepared he was, but the look in Snape's eyes told her all she needed to know. He had no intention of speaking further.
She hurriedly collected her things, reapplying a stasis charm to the cauldron before throwing her cloak over her shoulders and heading for the door. As she looked back to where her professor was seated, she saw him staring intently at the cauldron, and wondered what could be going through the snarky man's mind. "Sorry again, sir, if I upset you." She said quietly, half hoping he would snap round and berate her once more. Instead he continued to stare at the cauldron, and heaving a sigh of defeat, Hermione left the room.
She got back to Gryffindor Tower earlier than she had planned, after all her lesson had been cut painfully short. Not feeling up to the strained company of Harry and Ron, she instead headed up to her dorm to get ready for bed. She took advantage of the extra time and opted for a long shower, glad for the hot water and the relaxation it offered her muscles. The scents of lavender and jasmine drifted up to fill her nostrils, her eyes drifting shut in appreciation. She could feel the tension in her shoulders lift and even found her anxiety lessen the longer she stayed. By the time she finally shut off the water and let the disappearing warmth begin to chill her flesh, there was nothing to do but get into bed and work on emptying her mind before sleep claimed her. For the first time since she had made the 'library' breakthrough, she found her thoughts too chaotic and muddled to clear. After an hour of deep breathing, meditation, and failure, she collapsed into her pillows and drifted off, thankful that the day was over.
