Chapter 41

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either...just for fun.

Once again, the events that are not mentioned in this story that happen in the books remain as they happened in the books.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

Hermione left the small classroom and turned down the corridor, first in the direction where the Fat Lady hung, then turning towards the stairs. No, she was not going to go back to the common room. At least not yet, but she'd have to get past all the celebrating Gryffindors still lingering the corridor, again. She hurried down the corridor, determinedly ignoring the red and gold clad revelers, and forced her way through the crowd, resolutely ignoring their comments.

She'd been angry about the comments and jeers from her fellow Gryffindors as she'd fled the common room, and she'd hid in the first classroom she'd found. She didn't know how long she'd sat there, frustrated and alone, but long enough to stop crying over the bloody git, Ronald Weasley, although her emotions were roiling around inside her and the faint noises from the party still echoing in her mind.

Ron was livid with me all morning because of that idiotic prank Harry pulled with the Felix Felicis at breakfast, pretending to put it in Ron's cup before the Quidditch game to boost Ron's confidence. Of course it worked, but when I tried to congratulate him, Ron twisted my words around and threw them at me accusingly as if I didn't have any faith in him at all...and that is so not true! After that humiliating scene on the Quidditch pitch, Hermione had gone up to Gryffindor tower, eased her way through the celebrating Gryffindors in the corridor, intent on at least trying to reconcile with Ron and to congratulate Harry on his victory. She'd congratulated Demelza in the corridor, then scrambled through the portrait hole and worked her way into the common room to look for Ron. The room was so crowded I had a hard time seeing him, but then there he was. I finally spotted Ron, or more precisely, the back of his head...with an arm wrapped around his neck...a girls arm... and when they turned, there he was locked mouth to mouth with Lavender Brown as if they were sucking out each other's life force.

The guy I like...the guy I thought liked me...obviously preferred vapid idiots and shallow fools like Lavender Brown instead. The realization had hurt deeply.

The sheer unfairness of the situation was really all too much. She fled down the corridor and stormed down the stairs, blindly trying to put as much space between her and the common room as possible. She flicked her wand and three more canaries materialized, soaring about behind her as she walked. She was so good at the spell now she could do them nonverbally and with the smallest flicks of her wand.

She thought about Harry, and how rudely she'd run away from him. She'd been practicing conjuring up the yellow canaries and vanishing them over and over when Harry had come searching for her. His concern was sweet considering I'd thought he was angry at me for accusing him of cheating at Quidditch, she thought, wiping away a tear as she walked down another flight of stairs, not really paying attention to where she was going. Then Ron and his Blooming bimbo barged in, damn him. Lavender hanging on his arm, laughing and giggling at me, while Ron said, 'Hi Harry, wondered where you got off too,' all cocky and self-assured as if... as if... Hermione swiped at her face again. Ron is probably somewhere in the castle with Lavender right now, groping each other, latched together like mating grindylows!

She had been so enraged, so hurt seeing Lavender grinning at her as if to say she'd won. Her cheeky little "Oops," had only indicated to Hermione that Lavender had intended for Hermione to see them...to know what Lavender planned to be doing. And Ron, acting as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just broken her heart. Hermione had cursed him and then stormed off. That bloody prat! That wanker! Well, she can bloody well have him...bloody Ronald Bilius Weasley.

She wiped away angry tears as she stormed down the corridor. It doesn't matter anymore. He's snogging bloody Lavender...Ronald bloody Weasley. Why? Why does Lavender want him? She could have anyone! He's the one guy who has shown any remote interest in me...she threw herself at him! Prissy, silly and sentimental, self-centered cow!

She turned blindly, wiped away more angry tears as she hurried away down the stairs...as far away from the common room as she could go.

She should've used a better hex.

She should've chosen one of Professor Snape's approved curses.

Hermione ran down the next staircase. If that's the kind of girl he wants...he can have the airheaded idiot, she fumed.

Except the image wouldn't leave her head: Lavender snogging Ron as if she were a Dementor and Ron was the last wizard on the bloody planet. That bloody hag! Hermione had merely gaped at him...astounded and then turned and ran, feeling devastatingly hurt. Although, if she had said anything aloud, it'd have been drowned out by all the catcalls, wolf whistles, and congratulatory nonsense being shouted by her house mates because Ron, all of a sudden, was getting his tonsils licked clean by Lavender's tongue.

She's on her Bloom! Her birthday is the seventh! Hermione knew it...Lavender knew it, she had to. The bloody witch is on her Bloom, and she is using it to ensnare Ron! she snarled mentally as she stormed along, furious, hurt and confused, paying little heed to where she was going, fighting the pounding sensation of adrenaline and anger that was setting her senses thrumming with barely contained power. Hermione had read about magical ensnarement in her pamphlet from the Ministry, and then looked it up in the library. In the old days witches could ensnare the wizard they wanted by engaging them in romantic interludes during their Bloom. But Ron is a pure-blood; his father would've given him the talk like he had Harry, wouldn't he? Hermione remembered Mr. Weasley's talk with Harry and rolled her eyes. If Ron is so thick as not to see what is happening, well, then, I'm through with one Ronald Bilius bloody wanking Weasley!

"Bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger."

She didn't care where she was going as long as it was as far away from her common room as was physically possible to be. Walking, not running; running was against the rules, she was walking hurriedly down the corridor with tears streaming down her cheeks. She turned a corner and suddenly found her path blocked by an unyielding, solid wall of black wool. She looked up the row of black buttons slowly into the scowling face of Severus Snape and lowered her head quickly. She knew her face must appear splotchy and tear stained, and she really, really didn't want to run into anyone right now... "I'm so sorry, sir," she apologized.

"You should watch where you are going," Snape snapped coolly.

"I'm truly sorry, professor," she stammered, lacing her fingers together and staring at her thumbs.

"Where are you going?" he asked sternly. "It's nearly eleven o'clock, Miss Granger, and you're a long way away from your common room."

She couldn't look up at him, she was too ashamed, too emotionally distraught. "I-I was going to-to the loo," she lied, glad that her tears seemed to have stopped, for now.

He raised his arm and pointed over her shoulder. "It's right there."

"Thank you, sir," she said wretchedly, cursing herself for lying to him, but then going to the loo did give her a quick getaway. She turned on her heel and walked to the loo.

"Wait," he snapped.

Damn. No, I can't, please leave me be. He can't know I've been crying. She only paused, not wanting him to see her tears that she just couldn't hold back. Three fresh tears streaked down her cheeks unchecked.

"You are crying," he stated the obvious.

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing, sir. I'm fine," she replied and hurried across the corridor for the door. She heard his footsteps, the familiar thud of his boots as he followed her. She slipped inside, thinking she'd escaped, but he opened the door.

"Miss Granger?" Severus braced the door open with one arm as he filled the doorway with his presence. "Why are you crying?"

She stood, hands gripping the sides of the sink as she stared into it. Why am I crying? Because no one likes me! Because the one guy I thought liked me...me...is sucking face with Lavender bloody Brown, that's why. "Nothing really, I'll be all right," she said, unable to tell him why. I'm crying because the guy I thought I fancied doesn't fancy me. Story of my life. The boys all choose pretty girls like Lavender or Parvati. I'm just the bookworm, the bossy friend of Harry Potter, she thought as she felt a light, airy sensation waft through her and she chuckled coolly.

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed, and she blushed under his scrutiny. The ironic thing was that if he'd been his teenage self, she'd have been able to tell him what was bothering her...but this was the adult Severus Snape...her teacher. His teenage self would have told her that Ron wasn't worth it, that he was just a dunderheaded prat, and that she could do much better than Ron. He might have even held her and stroked her back like he'd done that one time.

Gods, she missed that Severus Snape.

She blinked as the lightness dissipated suddenly, and her crushed feelings seemed to envelope her more fully. Get a grip. Don't start crying again. Not now!

"It's Ron," she said softly, hands braced on the sink as if to hold herself up. She could see his back stiffen in his reflection in the mirror.

The door closed behind him as he stood there, watching her, and a few seconds passed, neither of them moving.

"I hardly see that he would be worth crying over," Professor Snape said eventually in a dismissive tone.

She looked up at him in the mirror. His dark eyes were still staring back at her unwaveringly. She realized with some surprise that he was trying to be sympathetic, and she gave him a small sad smile, grateful for his rather awkward concern.

"You're right, sir," she replied, actually feeling better in his presence. Even though he was different than his teenage self, he was still Severus Snape, and the similarities between the boy she'd known for a little while and the man he was now became evident to her. "I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said, taking a hand towel and drying her cheeks. She turned to face him. "I think I'll just wash my face and go back to my common room."

He nodded, his dark eyes searching her face for a moment before he spoke. When he did, it was in the same 'teacher tone' she knew so well, "Few teenage boys are worth your trouble, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley least of all. Do not allow yourself to become so indisposed by them. Curfew is in five minutes. Take care to return promptly, once you have... collected yourself."

"Thank you, sir," she said, turning to face the sinks. He remained behind her as she turned on the taps and lathered her hands with the mild soap for sensitive skin instead of the standard mild soap she'd normally used to just wash her hands. She inhaled deeply to gain control of her emotions before wiping the soap on her face, carefully avoiding getting soap in her eyes, and then rinsed her skin. When she stood up to pat her skin dry with the hand towel, she felt a momentary pang of disappointment that he was gone.

She left the loo and walked quickly, not at all eager to be in the dormitory when Lavender returned to tell Parvati all about her conquest, but she knew that it couldn't be avoided. She saw Professor Snape striding confidently down the corridor as he casually checked the doors with his wand and smiled at the way his robes always billowed when he walked.

She hurried up the stairs; with any luck, she'd be in bed and asleep when Lavender returned. But she had three books on her bedside table she wanted to finish. I could always try the sound muffling spell from Harry's Potions book, Muffle-toe... Muffletato, Muffliato, that's it, Muffliato. If ever there was cause to use it, this qualifies, and I don't care if it makes her ears buzz. It would be worth it.

Severus watched Hermione scurry up the stairs ahead of him. Not that he was following her, per se; he was actually searching for Draco. Running into her had irritated him; students rarely collided with him, they always went out of their way to avoid him, even diving out of his path into doorways and loos. His first thought when they'd collided was that she'd been heading toward the prefect bath, but she was wearing a thick jumper over her school blouse and brown Muggle jeans, although she could have easily had her string bikini on underneath. But now that he knew why she'd been running, he doubted it. He forced the memory of her barely there swimming attire from his mind.

But seeing her tearstained face had alarmed him. Some girls, several he could name in particular, had a propensity toward such hysterics, but Miss Granger was not one of them. Although, he'd certainly been the cause of her distress on more than one occasion, a regret he tried not to dwell upon either.

To avoid any uncomfortable discussion about what had provoked such an emotional outburst, he'd slipped into her mind to quickly scan her memories and had been annoyed that the reason for her distress was attributed to her lack of self-esteem. If those idiotic boys in her year, especially the Weasley dunderhead, couldn't see what a kind and remarkable girl Miss Granger was, well then, that is their loss, he sneered to himself as he watched the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs before him.

How in Merlin's name do the dimwitted boys not see how desirable she is? he mused as he watched her reach the top of the staircase. She slowed her progress to a normal walk and crossed the corridor towards the next staircase.

He could see that her body was still tense, but she was now controlling her emotions admirably. Her back was straight and her head held high. Nevertheless, her Muggle jeans do hug her hips all too provocatively, he mused with a sly grin.

It wasn't that he was staring at her, she was simply in his line of sight.

He puzzled at her distress. She was perfectly attractive enough, he thought. Her beauty was wholesome, a natural beauty, unlike so many of her counterparts. Miss Patil and Miss Brown spent so much of their time applying layers of cosmetics that it was almost impossible to see the truth beneath the artifice.

Who was he kidding? She was lovely. He'd seen her all dressed up for the Yule Ball, and she had looked resplendent. She'd turned many heads that night, many of the boys gaped in astonishment, and Krum couldn't take his eyes off her. However, Miss Granger simply didn't paint her face on a regular basis or waste hours on her hair...she had other concerns, more serious pursuits and no time for such frivolities.

He paused to watch Miss Granger as she ascended to the seventh floor, absurdly pleased that what he had said in the bathroom appeared to have helped to restore her equilibrium.

He was about to follow her further up the staircase when she suddenly looked around and down towards him. He was too far below her to be seen easily but he felt a strange jolt and instinctively shrank away from her gaze. He was supposed to be searching for Draco, for Merlin's sake, not watching over an overwrought Gryffindor!

He turned looking down the corridor. Draco won't be in any of these rooms, most of them are staff quarters or the staff lounge. There was a supply room for stationary and various magical supplies, and the room that held the Heidelberg Windmill's manual printing press, mimeograph machine and Rapid Roller Copier that now all functioned on magic, but the portrait of Kasper Henry Stanhope, grandson of Charles Stanhope, third Earl Stanhope, guarded that room fastidiously.

He'd already checked the third, fourth and fifth floors and had no idea where the boy could be. Both Altheda Crockford and Rosalba Higgins promised to inform him if they saw Draco on their floors, and according to Rosalba, the boy hadn't been seen on the seventh floor all evening. Severus had asked the Bloody Baron to search the dungeons and first floor for Draco, and asked Eledora Bittlestrom, the ghost of a young girl who fell from the Astronomy Tower in the early 1700's to help him find Draco, as well as Alpheus Hyatt, who normally walked the castle battlements, but so far the ghosts hadn't been much help. Where in the bloody horntails are you, you foolish boy?

It was getting close to curfew, and the boy was somewhere in the castle, just not in any of the normal hiding places. Growling in fury, he ascended the stairs to the seventh floor, but he doubted that the boy would be up there, especially if the Gryffindors were loitering about.

As Severus walked down the corridor confidently, the Gryffindors who were still lingering about, quickly spread word of his impending approach and swiftly scrambled through the portrait hole into their common room. He barked out the names of the last stragglers, deducting House points as he strode by, more intent on finding Draco than harassing Gryffindors. Nevertheless, the boy wouldn't be this close to the Gryffindor common room; he'd be in one of the other wings. He paused at Rosalba's portrait, but the witch merely shook her head. He nodded to her and wished her a good night, then walked on.

Draco had not been at the game; he'd begged off playing Seeker, pleading illness, even though Slytherin had played Gryffindor. The first game of the season. The boy's absence would be remarked upon, not only among his housemates but among the teaching staff as well. Severus suspected that even the Dark Lord would hear of it.

Severus knew that the boy wasn't ill at all...most likely he was making another attempt at his 'task', a task that Severus was hard pressed to discover. In all appearances, the boy's scheme was to kill Dumbledore...but Severus seriously doubted that; Draco's attempts thus far were utterly incompetent and lacked the level of cunning and execution that Severus knew the boy possessed.

Here it was the first week of November, and he was nowhere in determining what the boy was up to. His feelings of impotence and fear increased; he'd made an Unbreakable Vow. If Severus couldn't gain the boy's trust, if somehow the boy failed and Severus was not there to help him, then he'd die...all for not knowing what he should and doing what he had vowed to do. He'd naïvely believed that his previous rapport with the boy would enable him to get the boy to confide in him, but Draco had hardened over the summer and become obstinate and belligerent, almost to the point of insubordination. In fact, if any other student caused him even half the grief or displayed half the rudeness Draco had, that student would find themselves facing expulsion.

Severus turned, scanning the corridor. Damn and blast it!

Severus compared his notes again on the potion he'd been brewing for Dumbledore. Here it was only the fourth of November, and the curse had spread so that now the wrist was blackened and there were black and purple tendrils creeping up the old man's forearm. At the rate it was progressing, it would encompass his elbow by December.

Unfortunately, the potion Severus had created to stay the effects of the curse was not as efficacious as he'd hoped. The curse, or possibly curses were much stronger than he'd originally thought. Although, his first thoughts in creating the potion followed along the lines of a variation of the treatment for Gangrene; however now, the closest he and Madam Pomfrey could equate it to was Scleroderma: a connective tissue disease that occurs when the immune system mistakenly attacks and destroys healthy body tissue...only magical...which posed all sorts of new problems. His countercurse was barely effective either; he was going to have to modify it as well. Severus spent all of his free time on Sunday as well as his Monday evening on the problem, even eliciting the aide of ex-Headmistress and renowned Healer, Professor Dilys Derwent for her input.

The second version of the potion was simmering gently on a low flame in his private lab and the timer for the potion sat on his desk while he waited to see if the thickness and color would remain the same. Dilys Derwent suggested Frankincense and perforate St John's-wort would work better than the goldenseal with the phoenix tears, considering that Fawkes was already using his tears on the Headmaster's hand to help with the pain and discomfort of the curse. However, the curse was strong, and the phoenix tears offered only limited relief. Severus tried to calculate the substitution, and at least, theoretically, the substitution was sound. The last two attempts were disastrous, the strength was not enough to stave off the curse for long. But this time, with the addition of the Frankincense, Blue Skullcap and perforate St John's-wort the potion steamed slightly, then seemed to simmer down, but it was too early to tell if it was improved or not.

He glanced up at Dilys, but she was reading the directions on the blackboard he'd erected, mulling over the problem at hand as well. One of the advantages of living at the castle was that he had this marvelous witch to confer with when he was in need of sound advice or second opinion. Altheda was more than happy to share the space in her frame with the renowned witch.

He checked his list, reading it aloud so the ex-Headmistress and Healer could hear him. "I've added the bilberry before the ground scarab beetles, which will hopefully increase the flexibility of the capillaries and blood flow. I increased the Echinacea, hoping that it would help stimulate the regeneration of cellular connective tissue and epidermis, especially if combined with milk thistle and salamander blood. Likewise, I increased the number of hawthorn berries and ephedra, which should help decelerate a rapid heart rate and fortify his heart. I'm considering ginkgo biloba for its preventive ability for neurological damage and to improve the capillary circulation, licorice for anti-inflammation..."

"And you added the armadillo bile next..." Dilys said, her right elbow rested on her left wrist as she stroked her thumb on her lip in deep thought. "Yes, if you add it after the bile, it may help. I always found that the bile enhanced the property of the ginkgo biloba, and it works well in conjunction with both hawthorn berries and ephedra."

"Yes, and at this juncture, the astragalus and garlic... Yes, this should increase the efficacy of the potion."

The bell in the clock tower struck, indicating the hour, and he frowned. He'd hoped to be further along at this point. If he couldn't figure out the problem of increasing the potions efficacy, he'd have to postpone sessions with Hermione for a few days.

"Excuse me, Severus," Altheda said, trying to enter her frame without nudging Dilys. Severus looked up at the pallid-faced witch that normally adorned the wall in his office. "You asked me to let you know when Hermione Granger passes my other frame."

"Has she?"

"No, I don't think she's going to swim tonight," Altheda said haughtily. "I saw her with Potter, heading for the library."

He smiled, Altheda Crockford liked him, they got along well, but she hated being in his office when students came to see him or when Dilys was helping him. She'd always felt like an intruder and would quietly slip away each time his door opened, returning only if Severus was alone. But for Severus, the location of her other frame was advantageous, especially knowing that from her advantage point on the fifth floor diagonally across the corridor to the prefect bathroom, she would know exactly when Hermione swam each night, and had specifically asked her to keep him informed. "That's fine. Thank you. You could ask Rosalba Higgins to let me know when Miss Granger leaves the library, if you'd prefer."

"No, its fine, Severus, I don't mind visiting Master George Z. Rozenberg. His portrait has the best view of the library, and he's always enlightening to talk to." Altheda turned sideways in her frame and added, "Headmistress," nodding politely to Dilys and left.

"And what of your other problem?" Dilys asked, turning to look Severus squarely.

"My other problem?" Severus asked drolly. "You mean I have only one?"

"Young Master Malfoy," the portrait image replied nonplussed. "His latest attempt was poorly planned out and executed."

"The necklace was never conclusively traced back to Draco and the letter was burned by the phoenix before we could identify the contents," Severus stated. "It could have been sent by a disgruntled parent, for all we know."

"The Headmaster doesn't generally get contaminated or cursed post, Severus," Dilys replied. "Quite intuitive, Fawkes is, but it is also quite unfortunate that he reacted so alarmingly."

Severus inhaled, both from frustration and annoyance. He had asked Draco to remain behind after their last lesson to try to talk to him again, but the boy was absolutely obstinate and refused to wait. Once again he had angrily and insolently rebuffed Severus' attempt to help him. Severus was no closer to working out what the boy's task was. He had of course, dismissed the obvious...that the boy was supposed to kill the headmaster, as Dumbledore was assuming. However, if that was indeed his task, the boy had been utterly inept and was hardly trying to succeed, which in itself told Severus that the task was something else entirely and the attempts on Dumbledore's life were merely a diversion. A diversion for what, he was desperate to find out, and he needed to discover what it was before the boy succeeded. "From what Dumbledore told me, the sealing wax was green but there wasn't an insignia impression, and the black ink had a green iridescence, the type preferred by the Slytherin girls."

"So not Master Malfoy, then?" she asked.

"Inconclusive," he said. "But still, Dumbledore told me that the young eagle owl bore a remarkable resemblance to Lucius' owl, Metis, right down to her markings."

The timer went off. "Dilys, if you'd be so kind as to let me know the moment Dumbledore returns to the castle, I'd be obliged," he said as he rose to check on the simmering potion.

"And if he doesn't return tonight?" she asked, concerned.

"I have means by which to contact him," Severus said cordially, hoping his irritation didn't show in his voice. "Either way, I shall be up late," he added more amicably.

"Altheda won't mind my intrusion late at night?" the kindly witch asked.

He shook his head. "No, she both admires and respects you. Either way, let me know by nine, he should get his dose of the potion tonight," he said, turning toward the door to his lab.

"As you wish, Severus," she agreed. "I'll speak to you later."

The only good thing (as far as Hermione was concerned about Ron's new attraction to Lavender) was that Harry was now spending more time with her. She knew that Harry certainly felt like a gooseberry around the pair since they seemed to spend any second not eating, sleeping or breathing stuck together in a lip lock. Naturally, Lavender was still Blooming, a long Bloomer at that, and Ron's interest was most likely only because of his captivation to Lavender's Allure, but it didn't hurt any less when she reminded herself of the fact. Yesterday in Herbology, Hermione had chosen to partner with Neville and Seamus, leaving Harry with the two new lovebirds; Lavender had been constantly touching and petting Ron like a love-struck Selkie and subsequently lost Gryffindor twenty house points.

Hermione was still feeling utterly hurt and despondent. All she could think about was avoiding Lavender and her constant cooing over Ron or her preening about her relationship to Parvati, bragging in the dorm room that she won Ron "from all the other girls that were saying how hot and cute he is," for the next three or so days until her Bloom period wore off. She'd hoped that with Lavender's birthday that things could go back to normal, but so far, it hadn't.

So now, even being in the common room was uncomfortable for Hermione. Her main place of refuge had always been the library, but Lavender actually did occasionally do her essays in the library and now, unfortunately, she dragged Ron in there with her. Which was a good thing as it forced Ron to work on his homework as well. Another point of contention, Hermione had tried for years to get Ron to spend time in the library with her, unsuccessfully.

So until the girl finally concluded her Bloom, Hermione had to find somewhere to hide...some place quiet and with no Ron and his idiotic, immature, lazy, stupid...

"What did I see in him?" She swore under her breath as she let the Fat Lady slam back into place behind her.

"No need to... Are you all right, dearie...?" the Fat Lady called out to her as Hermione ran into the nearest empty room and slammed the door.

The door opened and Harry poked his head in. "Are you all right?" he asked as she slumped down on the floor next to the opposite wall.

Hermione buried her head in her hands and shook her head as she fought, unsuccessfully, to stop the impending tears from falling. Harry walked over and sat down next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder. The gently reassuring touch of someone actually caring made the tears fall even faster.

"Do you want to practice?" he asked.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

"Do you want to go to the library?" he asked, his voice sounding concerned in the quiet room.

"No, thanks," she replied. In fact, she'd been so focused on her schoolwork she was caught up on that, until tomorrow when her professors would hopefully give out new assignments, so she didn't even have that to keep her occupied. And reading... she was too distracted to concentrate on anything.

"I...I..." she stammered, trying to remember. "I have to go to Professor Snape's office in a few minutes." She hoped he wouldn't mind the intrusion. Maybe he could give her an assignment.

"Oh, right," Harry said, obviously confused. "Do you have another detention?"

Hermione shrugged. "It was my Surges, Harry, and now I have to relearn how to control the strength of my magic."

His eyes widened, and she chuffed out a short laugh, remembering Mr. Weasley's attempt at telling Harry about the Surges. "Harry, haven't you noticed that my magic seemed a bit strong in Defense?" He nodded, so she continued. "It wasn't because I was overzealous: I was Surging. My magical strength increased dramatically when I came of age, as I came into my full potential, and Professor Snape," she'd promised not to divulge the truth about her lessons, but didn't really want to lie to Harry either, "has been furious at me for my lack of control."

"All those detentions with him are because your magic increased?" Harry asked. "The git..."

"No, really, it was because of my lack of control," she replied, defending Professor Snape. "Really, he's been making me do my spells on target and sparring dummies. It's really helped."

He calmed down and nodded. "Is that where you've learned it...from him?"

Her brow creased as she regarded him, wondering what he'd assumed, and he looked more pointedly at her.

"All the stuff you've been showing us in the Room of Requirement?" he clarified.

She nodded. "Some of what he's said makes sense, and we will be fighting in this war...it's good to be prepared." The clock in the bell tower chimed the hour. "Oh gods, I'm late!" She jumped to her feet. She hoped Professor Snape was still in his office.

"Okay, I'll see you later," Harry said, walking out of the room behind her. "I'll be in the common room when you get back. Maybe we can duel or something."

"Thank you, Harry," she said, hurrying down the corridor.

As she took the stairs as quickly as she dared all the way to the dungeons, Hermione tried to distract herself by naming the twelve uses of dragon blood and then list off the properties of each dragon species. She passed Malfoy and a second-year Slytherin boy on the stairs, barely acknowledging them. Even Malfoy's derisive, "Watch it, Granger," or the second-year's rude, "Watch where you're going, Mudblood," didn't faze her.

Hermione knocked on Professor Snape's door and turned around, fully expecting the door across the corridor to be yanked open in the usual manner.

It didn't.

She waited, wondering.

She turned around slowly and knocked on his office door again, then waited.

Nothing.

There was a pale line of light, so soft that it would go unnoticed unless someone looked for it, under his door. He must be in, she thought, knowing that Severus wasn't the type to irresponsibly leave a candle burning in his office. Why then didn't he answer me?

Sighing, she reached out and clasped the latch, smiling as she felt the latch give. She slowly opened the door and looked in. The lights were on, but he was not in his office. "Professor?" she asked cautiously as she stepped inside. It was odd, his door being unlocked if he wasn't there.

She entered boldly and closed the door. Perhaps he stepped out to use the loo? She looked around, peering at the objects on his shelves. There were the expected jars of specimens in formaldehyde, the occasional skull or carved device, and objects whose use were indiscernible to her even after five years of magical study, among the myriad of magical books. Curiously, she moved closer to the shelves, trying to pointedly ignore what looked like a manticore embryo and young lobalug as she read the titles of his books.

He had numerous books on many subjects, most related to the Dark Arts, curses, jinxes and hexes, plus several on Potions, even though he no longer taught the subject, and oddly, Arithmancy and Alchemy. Her finger stopped on a few books in tooled leather, and she examined the indented scripts, barely visible in the soft light, and was surprised by the four titles: Comprehensive Organometallic Chemistry, Inorganic Elements and Lanthanides, Organic Synthesis and Methodology of Pharmaceutical Organic Chemistry. She took one down, opening it, recognizing the text as one her father had on the properties and behaviors of inorganic elements and compounds. Only Severus' copy looked like any other magical text; although appearing the same as her father's with the same lettering, the same graphic design of a chemical compound on the cover, his was bound in hand tooled leather, not colorful, plastic protected paper-over-board like a normal Muggle book.

She remembered Sirius' sneer about Severus and his chemistry set when she'd been at Grimmauld Place the summers before last with a smirk. So he did learn or at least read chemistry books. Interesting. She put the book back and glanced up at the wall above the shelf.

A painting of a landscape hung on the wall beside the recessed bookshelves. In a way, it reminded her of the background to the Mona Lisa. It was the view through an open loggia of a gallery or corridor with dark pillar bases on either side of the frame. An unknown valley and merging rivers with winding paths and a distant bridge led the eye to some icy mountains and forest trees in the far background. One lone animal, a deer or elk perhaps, seemed to graze in the distance, but there was a serene loneliness about the scene. She briefly wondered if this was Altheda Crockford's frame. If it was, she must be elsewhere in the castle, either up in her frame on the fifth floor corridor or visiting another's portrait.

In another frame on his shelf near his desk sat a photo that had obviously been taken on a pier, overlooking the water toward the shoreline. It was a wizard photo since there was a seagull soaring on the air current, and there was what appeared to be an edge of a scarf wafting as well as a bit of an arm of a coat on the side of the frame.

Hermione startled as the door was suddenly thrust open, and Severus entered his office. He stopped, staring at her, his eyes flicking quickly to the shelves behind her and then back to her face. His face morphed into his usual mask of authority as he regained his composure. "What are you doing here?" he demanded warily, apparently angry that she'd been prying into his personal effects on his shelves or that she'd disturbed him.

"I thought we... I...forgot," she stammered.

"You forgot what?" he asked curtly. "We do not have an appointment tonight, or this week as I recall."

Hermione's eyes started to tear up. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to disturb..."

"Well, what did you want and be quick about it...I have an engagement elsewhere."

She looked up at him in surprise. He had to be... He is leaving? "I was wondering if or when can we start on wandless magic?" she asked, hoping he'd not be too angry at her impertinence. Having something new to work on would help her fill her time.

"Later, I'm busy," he snapped. He pulled open his door. "Now is not a good time for me, Miss Granger. I really must go and see the Headmaster."

Hermione nodded in understanding. She was keeping him from an appointment with Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, sir. I...I'll wait until I get word from you regarding our next meeting." She held her breath...she knew that she was pushing her luck. Really, he should have taken fifty points off her by now at the very least.

He watched her for a moment before, to her immense relief, nodding once. "Was there anything else, Miss Granger?"

"No, sir, I... Good night, sir," she stammered and then turned to leave. He walked her to the door, but she paused. "May I ask you one question before I go?"

He took a step closer and glared down his nose at her. "You just did."

She bit her lip, looking down abashedly, trying to hide the quirk at the corners of her mouth at what she hoped was a joke.

"Well, what is it, Miss Granger? The Headmaster is waiting..."

There it was again...she was sure there was a sardonic twist in his voice. She smiled properly this time, looking up at him again. "I noticed that you have a few Muggle chemistry books on your shelves."

Immediately, he seemed to tense, and he looked once again towards the contents of his bookshelves, then back to her. He nodded once, his eyes narrowing.

She was about to simply ask, 'Why,' but thought better about it. "Do the Muggle theories about chemical reactions... relate to how potion ingredients react in a cauldron?"

His lips drew back into a sneer, so she quickly pressed on before he could say anything hurtful. "I suppose it makes sense, though, doesn't it. I mean, chemistry explores the reactions of elemental chemicals and compounds under heat and cold...so in a way it's... a resource of information."

He crossed his arms. "Plants, minerals, even gasses have elemental properties, and yes, I sometimes find that certain chemistry reactions between various elements do in fact occur in Potions."

"Because, not all of the elements and ingredients used are magical; we use quite a few mundane minerals and non-magical plants as ingredients."

"Most of our ingredients are not magical," he stated. "However, when a witch or wizard brews the potions in a cauldron, there is a certain amount of their magic that is transmitted to the potion."

"When we stir it?" she asked, thinking aloud. "Chapter one, 'intent and determination of the will of the witch or wizard when stirring the potion', we radiate our magic, however minute, into the cauldron, therefore imbibing a small bit of magic with each step," she paraphrased her first year Potions book.

He nodded again, but there was a tick in his jaw.

"Sorry, I remember how much you hate me quoting the books," she apologized. "Thank you, Professor. I'm sorry if I've made you late for your appointment."

"Yes, you have made me late, Miss Granger," he stated gruffly, but then his features seemed to soften just a little and one side of his mouth quirked back slightly...not a smirk, but not a smile either. "Merlin forbid you should have a question go unanswered." His arms dropped to his sides, and he moved past her towards the door. "But now, I shall have to ask you to leave."

She hurried out, giving him a quick forced smile as she passed him, and walked back down the corridor for the stairs. Blasting Horntails. The library it is then... unless... unless Harry still wants to duel tonight.

She set off to Gryffindor tower to find Harry, hoping that Ron and his Succubus were not in the common room. However, she ran into Ginny in the corridor where the Room of Requirement was located.

"I was looking for you," Ginny said.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, surprised. "I thought..." She turned her head to glance at the place where the door usually appeared, then looked at Ginny. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, I'm alone; and no, I was not in there," Ginny replied with a smirk. "I heard that you gave Lavender a rune charm for happiness for her birthday?"

Hermione looked away. "It's the rune for protection." She'd wanted to give Lavender the rune for misfortune in a cursed envelope, but then she was better than that, so opted for the rune for protection instead. She'd also bought Susan and Melody, the Ravenclaw prefect, the rune for good fortune at the same time. However, Hermione had used a school owl to deliver the charm to Lavender with the post in the morning, so that it could get lost among all the others she'd received, with a card that read, Happy Birthday. HG.

Ginny cocked her head slightly to one side. "I'm not so sure I'd have done it, given her one."

"She sent me one," Hermione offered in way of an explanation. "She gave me that sweet caricature of a graphorn, so I'd...I'd had felt like a heel if I hadn't."

Ginny's eyes widened. "That was before she stole Ron from you. You're being really unselfish considering..."

"Considering what? That she snagged Ron...it's his choice. And I'm hardly being unselfish; I'd already bought the charm and besides..." Hermione paused as Seamus hurried by. She lowered her voice, "She didn't steal him away from me...I never had him in the first place. For the most part, Lavender has been, well, considerate. She's not flaunting her relationship as much as before."

"Not flaunting..." Ginny smirked. "Right, it isn't as if they're not locked lip to lip and groping each other at every possible opportunity, snogging each other senseless all over the place! You can't possibly think that they are being considerate of anything but themselves?"

"He chose her!" Hermione screeched, exasperated and not a little hurt.

"It's not a choice if he's under the influence of her Bloom," Ginny pointed out. "Look, all I...what I really wanted to see was if you'd like to hang out for a bit; maybe slip in the Room of Requirement and... I dunno, duel or something?"

Hermione smiled at her friend. It was the sweetest offer, and she could take out her frustration on the target dummies. "Gin, I'd really like that."

"Good, then you can show me all the stuff you've been showing my git of a brother and Harry," Ginny said, pacing in the corridor a few times.

When the door appeared, Hermione pulled it open. "I'd be glad to. After you."

"Thank you," Ginny said, walking into what was once again, the DA sparring room.

~ T. B. .C. ~

Author's Notes:

Metis was the Greek goddess of crafty thought and wisdom and mother of Athena. In the one commonly cited version, Zeus lay with Metis, the goddess of crafty thought and wisdom, but it had been prophesied that Metis would bear children more powerful than the sire. In order to forestall these dire consequences, after lying with Metis, Zeus swallowed her down inside his own belly. He was too late: Metis had already conceived. Eventually, Zeus experienced an enormous headache; Athena leaped from Zeus's head, fully grown and armed, with a shout...and pealed to the broad sky her clarion cry of war. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Athena