Reverberation

Reverberation

The doors of the Ministry were far too thin. Contrary to his instinct, Snape paused at Granger’s door and absorbed the small sounds of sobs that filtered through. He’d merely meant to return the damned shirt, which he’d unconsciously taken with him; he’d wanted this… episode done with. But she’d needled him… and he’d reacted with a sledgehammer. Well, the chit ought to know better by now.

But he really hadn’t thought she’d be this… sensitive. She’d lost her temper last night; shouldn’t that have been the end of it?

Severus cast a Silencing Charm before sweeping down the corridor.

There was no sign of, well, anything the following day when he saw Hermione rushing through the halls with her customary energy. She nodded as she usually did when she passed him, the curls escaping her ties bouncing with the movement. He recalled the way they’d clouded around her torso, glowing against the grey… Lips thinning, he made his way outside; he’d several packages and notes for St. Mungo’s.

The next few weeks continued in this vein; he performed his tasks, and they greeted each other politely in passing. Aside from a few errant thoughts, life was back to normal.

“Seen Hermione lately?”

Snape stiffened before realizing that Potter was behind him, addressing the occupant of the next booth.

“Nope,” young Weasley’s food-stuffed voice answered. “Somethin’ wrong, Harry?”

“She’s at it again.” Potter sounded grim, and Severus frowned. At what again?

The silence was palpable. “Is it after-the-war bad?” Weasley, surprisingly, seemed just as serious.

“No. Not yet, anyway. But I’m not betting on anything.”

“Fucking hell. What happened? And when?”

“Like she’d say? And nobody else seems to know anything.” Potter’s frustration was… alarming next to Weasley’s rising hysteria. “But someone must, and I intend to find out who.”

Snape hated being half-informed, and nothing of the boys’ further conversation filled in the gaps. Granger was obviously in some sort of self-inflicted trouble, but what sort? He’d spent weeks in hospital after the war, but she’d seemed perfectly fine when he’d seen her afterwards. What didn’t he know? And why were those buffle-brains worried about her being ‘at it again?’ Oh, for the days when he could use Legilimancy and claim necessity as an excuse. But then, he didn’t need Legilimancy to ferret out information. In this case, he thought with a thin smile, he’d beat Potter to the punch.