Oblivion

Disclaimer: Whose? Hers.

* * * * * *

Moments before the big school clock struck ten, the fire flared in the Hospital Wing, and Professor Dumbledore called out, 'Madam Pomfrey!' from amongst the flames.

Poppy emerged from her office and hurried over to the hearth. 'Professor Dumbledore! Is anything wrong?'

'Ah. Well. Rather. Could I trouble you to come to my office now?

'Certainly,' she said, reaching for the Floo powder.

'And could you please bring some Revenit potion with you? I have a student here who is... rather poorly that way.'

She stiffened. Oh. 'I'll be there in two minutes.'

'Excellent. Thank you, Poppy.'

Alone again, she moved towards her main supplies cupboard.

Poppy was not usually the sort to let her mind run ahead of the facts. But at the moment she couldn't help it: Why is there an Obliviated student in the Headmaster's office?

When she arrived, she found Lavender Brown stretched out on a sofa. Her eyes were open and her face, along with her whole body, was relaxed. She gazed dully up at Poppy as the healer examined her, and she murmured, 'Who are you?'

'I am Madam Pomfrey, my dear. I am the healer here at Hogwarts. You've had a bit of a turn, and Professor Dumbledore here has asked me to make sure you are... fit.'

Doubtless Albus had good reason for asking her to help conceal the signs of Obliviation: the severe if short-lived memory loss; the pronounced muscle relaxation; the characteristic glassy, stupid stare...unmistakable to anyone who had ever encountered it.

'Any other injury, Headmaster?' she asked him in a low voice.

'No. Miss Brown arrived in my office whole and healthy half an hour ago, and she has been here with me ever since.' He met Poppy's gaze with a grave look. He was telling her that he himself had done it...that he had broken the law...worse, violated his responsibility...and Obliviated a student.

'I see.' She paused. 'Am I to know any more?'

'Not just at present, I'm afraid. I trust... all will come clear in time, but at the moment I cannot be explicit. I fear I must rely upon your utmost discretion.'

'Of course,' she said, thin-lipped, and reached into her pocket for the phial she'd brought with her. Turning her attention back to Miss Brown, she murmured, 'Ah, my dear, let's get you sitting up, shall we? I have a little medicine here that will help you, though it won't feel that way at first.'

A spasm racked the girl's body the moment she'd swallowed the potion, and Poppy supported her while she vomited copiously onto the carpet. When she'd emptied herself out, Poppy lowered her gently into a reclining position, where she lay trembling, with tears leaking from her closed eyes.

'Tergeo,' said Dumbledore. He bent and stroked Miss Brown's forehead gently. 'It seems this young lady has been in a state of misery for some time. I hope she may soon rally and rediscover her joy in life.' Straightening, he said, 'I am much obliged to you, Poppy. I will return her to her dormitory once she's feeling a bit better.'

It was a dismissal, though a gentle one. Poppy returned the empty phial to her pocket. 'Perhaps a little biscuit in fifteen minutes or so. And I would like to see her tomorrow.'

'By all means. Goodnight, Poppy.'

'Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore.' She stepped through the fire into the shadow-filled ward, and walked past the rows of empty beds to her warmly lit office.

With two fingers of firewhisky in her tumbler, she sat, trying to recover her equanimity.

No doubt he had his reasons; he would not do such a thing without very pressing need. But... she was left with a sour feeling.

That girl...who knew what he had just taken from her, never to be restored? 'I hope she may soon rediscover joy in life,' he'd said. The remark seemed grossly out of place in the circumstances.

She set the almost empty glass on her desk and sighed. She was being unjust to him, she knew. Of course he cared deeply for Miss Brown's wellbeing and happiness. It was just that there were some things he valued more than anyone's wellbeing and happiness.

She picked up her glass, raised it...to a day when children may be simply children and not pawns in a fight they never caused...and drained it.

* * *

'Now tell me, Miss Brown.' The Headmaster was looking at her rather sharply. 'To what do I owe the pleasure at,' he glanced at one of his clocks, 'ten-forty on a Saturday night. You are out past curfew; is anything amiss?'

Lavender could only stare...at him, and around her, at his office. Why was she here? How did she get here? She didn't remember coming in. Her head hurt, and her stomach hurt, too. The one felt full of mortar, yet curiously light, as though it would drift away if it weren't attached; the other felt grindingly empty, as though she hadn't eaten all day. Had she? Her mouth tasted horrible.

'I... I don't know, sir,' she finally said. 'I don't know why I'm here.'

She looked at the Headmaster, and felt a surge of fear. I'm frightened of Dumbledore? That couldn't be right.

'Well.' He smiled. 'I certainly do appreciate the visit. In my position it's not often I have guests who don't want anything in particular. It's rather a refreshing change. But you look a little unwell...shall I call Madam Pomfrey for you?'

'No!' Lavender blurted out. 'Um, no.' The idea of Pomfrey made her feel oddly apprehensive. All she knew at the moment was that she was frightened of... something... and that she was exhausted and that she wanted to be in her dormitory, in her bed, safe and alone. 'Thank you,' she added. 'I'm so sorry to intrude like this. I'll go now.'

He rose, too. 'As it's past curfew, I'll walk you back to Gryffindor tower. I shall be glad to stretch my legs a little.'

Thankfully Dumbledore didn't try to make small talk with her, just paced beside her in silence. And Lavender found she felt a bit better with every step. Though still so very tired.

When they reached the portrait door, the Headmaster stood by expectantly.

What's the password? Oh yes... It flowed into her mind easily. 'Pandora,' she said, and the Fat Lady yawned and opened.

Lavender turned to Dumbledore. 'Good night, sir. Thank you.'

He smiled slightly. 'Not at all, Miss Brown. Not at all. Sleep well.'

Inside the common room, she heard her name through the haze of exhaustion...Parvati? She didn't know, didn't care. Didn't want to talk. Held up her hand, walked on. Just wanted... stairs. Toothbrush. Pyjamas. Bed, and curtains. Oblivion.

* * *

Midnight came and went, and so did five past twelve, and ten past. Hermione could hear, through her wards, Parvati's gentle snoring. Lavender mumble-whined something in her sleep.

She'd got in the habit of letting Severus come to her, for any number of reasons. It took her until nearly twenty past twelve to decide she'd go to him.

She slipped the caramel onto her tongue and reached out for his hand and, for the second time since they'd begun using Percipio Corium to meet, she felt his fingers close over her earlobe. Not now. Not safe.

The last time he'd used the signal, he'd been with Voldemort.

She lay staring up into the darkness, trying to breathe away her panic.

This worry and dread she felt when she could not reach him: she had to master it. She could not let it control her like this.

As a practical matter, she hadn't the energy to spend feeling horrible about things she couldn't change. And surely he had enough to do without having to dry her tears every other time they met.

And... her eyes widened and her hands curled into fists. We'll never make it if we can't trust what we have. Her indulging her own terror was, she suddenly realised, a betrayal of trust.

So. The togetherness they'd shared over the last thirteen days could end at any moment. Perhaps it was already over. And she would have to go on without it.

She lay there, thinking, growing more determined.

Today she'd felt so desperate...as though she would never be able to do this. She'd actually thought of asking Severus if she could tell Harry and Ron...if she could self-Obliviate, why couldn't they?...just because she couldn't stand the loneliness. An insane idea. She was so glad she hadn't had a chance to ask it of him.

Because now... now she felt a spreading calm, as though she'd tapped a new reservoir of strength. She could do this. She had to do it, and she could, and she would.

She'd be the good thing he could depend upon, even after they had to part.

Tomorrow, she'd tell him all this.

Calming by degrees, she finally slept...a deep, dreamless sleep. Somewhere in the night she half-woke to feel him curling his long body against hers. Or perhaps that was the dream; in the morning he was gone, if he had indeed been there at all.

* * *

Potion will be finished at two. Come to office at four.

Then, after a brief pause:

Good morning.

Ah, Severus Snape, thought Hermione. Business first, niceties later, if ever. She answered Good morning Severus! Yes to four o'clock. then tucked the Galleon in her pocket and turned away from the window where she'd been standing.

'Lavender,' said Parvati, pulling aside their roommate's bed curtain. 'Breakfast time.' She shook Lavender's shoulder. 'Wow. She's really out for the count. Good thing it's Sunday.'

'Mmmm,' said Hermione. 'I think she was already asleep when I got up here last night. And, you know, I never heard her get up in the night. She must have, though; she always does.'

Parvati pulled back her hair into a ponytail. 'She was in quite a state yesterday. I'm starting to worry about her, a bit, with this pointless obsession with your love life.'

The little hairs on Hermione's neck stood up, but she kept her expression as neutral as she could. 'Yeah it's, it's starting to get a bit weird. I wish there were some way to convince her I'm not in love with Ron.'

'Oh, she knows you're not. I learned that much yesterday. It just drives her mad that Ron is in love with you.'

Now Hermione stared, and spluttered. 'But, but... are you serious? Ron doesn't even think I'm a girl. He's um, he's so not interested in me. I'm not his type.'

Parvati snorted. 'Ha. According to Lavender, he's not your type. And I think you might want to start noticing how he feels about you. Trust me when I say he knows you're a girl.'

Hermione had nothing to say to that, and she let Parvati go down to breakfast ahead of her. Her heart was in her mouth. Lavender suspects something? She can't KNOW, can she? She can't have told anyone, because there's no way it wouldn't have got back to me somehow. Is there? Oh god, is this it?

This might be the end of being able to hide in plain sight. Maybe the time for bald-faced lies and denials had come. Or maybe it was too late even for that?

The water was just getting deeper and deeper.

And... could it be true what Parvati and Lavender thought about Ron? That would be so horribly ironic, if he had begun to have those sorts of feelings now, when it was too late. It would be just plain horrible, actually.

She would watch him and try to judge. It had taken her too long to notice that Seamus was thinking of her that way; maybe Ron, too...

Ugh. Please, no. Please, please, no.

* * *

'Morning Harry, morning Ginny. Hi, Ron,' said Hermione, sliding onto the bench across the table from him.

'Morning,' Ron muttered. His eyes were shadowed. He didn't sleep well, either.

Hermione looked down the table. Parvati was down there, far out of earshot. She looked up to the front of the room. Severus was there, safe and sound and reaching for the coffee.

As she casually moved her gaze along the staff table, Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes caught and held hers. Her heart pounded, and she felt dizzy. Murder. God, how soon? She tore her gaze from his as soon as she noticed she'd been staring right at him, but too late: she was flooded with all the horror she'd been keeping at bay.

Breathe, breathe, calm, calm, she chanted to herself, tucking her chin down and staring fixedly at her empty plate, which dimmed and blurred. It's all for the good, for the good, the good. Breathe...

And soon, she was through it...her vision clear of dark swarming dots, her stomach feeling more or less normal. With trembling hands, she slid a piece of toast onto her plate and reached for the jam.

Every time she thought she was getting better at handling this burden of knowledge, she found that she just... wasn't. Wasn't mastering it. Wasn't able to keep it in a box on a shelf in the corner of her mind. Couldn't really accept it. Could hardly bear it.

What to do?

It came to her. She needed to talk to someone about all this and, apart from Severus, there was only one person she could talk to.

She looked back up at the staff table. Dumbledore was on his feet. Now he was stopping beside Severus and talking to him. Now he was stepping down from the dais and walking along the length of the hall.

Oh, to follow him, and talk to him! Surely he could offer her some wisdom. Or, at least, talking about it would be some relief. But she needed to discuss any such move with Severus first.

Ron and Harry got up from the table, and Hermione was just in time to see Harry giving Ginny a meaningful look before the two boys shouldered their brooms and headed for the door.

Ginny was in Quidditch gear, too, and had her broom with her, but she lingered. She slid a little closer to Hermione on the bench.

'Hermione,' she said, in a low voice. 'Did Ron... did you and Ron have, um, a quarrel or a scene or something last night?'

Hermione blanched. 'No. No...not at all. Why, Ginny?'

Ginny raised an eyebrow. 'Well. He came into the common room around nine or nine-thirty, and he looked, just, really angry. And he wouldn't say a word, not even to Harry. And then, when you walked in a few minutes later, he turned beetroot red and buried his nose in a book. Which he was holding upside down.'

'I... I didn't notice,' faltered Hermione.

Ginny nodded. 'I know. You went right upstairs. And you didn't look upset, particularly. But Ron really seemed to react in a weird way to you.' She sighed. 'It must be Lavender, then.'

'Wh... um, Lavender? What must be Lavender?' Breathe, breathe, calm, calm...

'Well, when she walked in...quite a while after curfew, I think...he turned sort of purple. The colour my mother turns sometimes when she's really angry. And he was still pretending to read, but this time he ripped one of the pages right out of the book when he was turning it. And then he stood up and said something about Spellotape and went upstairs to his dormitory and didn't come back. So then Harry and I thought they'd had some kind of argument...he and Lavender. But Ron won't say.'

Ginny looked up and down the table. 'Where is she, by the way?'

Glad of a simple question, Hermione said, 'Still asleep when Parvati and I left.'

Ginny was silent for a moment. 'Hermione,' she said, slowly. 'Just... if it comes to it, try not to hurt him too badly, okay?'

'Ginny! I'm not going to hurt him! I never would! I mean...' She paused, and tried to swallow down the sick feeling overtaking her. 'You don't think Ron really fancies me, do you?' She nearly choked on the words.

To her relief, Ginny shook her head slightly. 'Well, not exactly. Or, no more than he ever has, anyway. He's sort of a puzzle to me, that way. I think he might be a puzzle to himself. But however he feels, I can tell that you have, shall we say, moved on? You just don't ever look at him that way anymore. If he ever realises he does fancy you, he'll be in for a disappointment.'

Mustering her shaky poise, Hermione said, 'It is true I'm not waiting around for Ron to notice me these days. So I really hope that he isn't... that he doesn't... you know.'

Ginny looked at her levelly. 'Me too.' And she got up from the table and hefted her broom. 'See you later, Hermione.' She smiled briefly, and was gone.

If emotional blows kept coming at this rate, Hermione thought, she'd have to go for approximately eight runs per day to maintain her cool. That, or start dosing herself with Numbing Potion.

Talk to Dumbledore, she told herself. It has to help, somehow.

* * *

Lavender hadn't moved when Hermione returned to the dormitory before lunch. Startled, Hermione drew close to her roommate's bed. Lavender was breathing easily, and her skin was warm, and her pulse was even. She wasn't ill, just fast asleep.

Hermione felt vaguely worried and also rather relieved. A sleeping Lavender was a silent Lavender, which could only be a good thing at this point. If she was still asleep at dinnertime, Hermione decided, that would be time enough to worry, and to seek help.

The stairs from Gryffindor Tower shifted when Hermione reached the fourth floor landing, swinging around towards a secondary corridor. Exasperated, she decided to seek an alternative route rather than wait with the other students for the main stairs to move back and let them continue down to the Great Hall.

The corridor was nearly empty, and she was alone when she opened the door onto the back stairs.

But when she reached the landing, she was no longer alone.

Severus got down from the ledge as she approached. She gasped. His face looked wild and grim...forehead furrowed, mouth pinched, eyes all but shooting fire. She felt his usual wards snap into place around them.

Wordlessly, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her up to the ledge, then pushed between her knees, seized her head in both hands, and kissed her...if it could be called a kiss. It was something between being devoured by a great snake and being branded with a hot iron.

It was not a pleasant kiss, but neither was it punishing and cruel, like his unwanted kisses when she'd happened upon him in the Hogsmeade road upon his return from Voldemort. Instead it was hungry. So very hungry. So she let him kiss her like this, and reached out to hold him as he did so.

When he was done, he pulled back a little and just... looked at her. And his gaze was devouring, too, somehow, seeming to take her face in bit by bit, from forehead to chin. He lifted some of her hair and let it lie on his palm for a moment as he stared at it, as though his hand were a scale and the hair some rare potions ingredient. Finally, he moved his thumb across her brow, down her nose, sweeping out along her cheek and down her jaw while he pinned his eyes on her mouth, which he bent to kiss again. If it could be called a kiss.

The touch of his mouth on hers was as light as it had been heavy minutes earlier. His lips were slightly parted, and he brushed them against hers and let them rest, breathing in harshly as she breathed out, for one breath, and two.

When he stepped back, his eyes were glowing black in a white, white face. He clamped his mouth together and twisted it. He looked absolutely livid.

'Severus,' she said, her pulse pounding in her ears. 'What is it?'

But he just said, 'Four o'clock. We'll talk then.' He turned on his heel and swept down the stairs, his wards bursting apart when he reached them, the shockwave shattering two of the mullioned panes in the window behind her.

It took Hermione a good twenty minutes to work her way into and out of a state of extreme worry...of near-panic. Don't ask for trouble, wait until four, talk to him then, she repeated over and over again, slowly subduing her anxiety...or, actually, managing to detach from it somewhat.

She was getting better at this...at taking the overwhelming feelings and containing them and putting them away in a corner of her mind. She really was getting better at it. She really was.

* * * * * * * *

A/N: o.O