Ten

Early August, 1998

A few hours later, Hermione was awake and sitting up in a bed in the Hospital Wing.

At the window across the room, two men were standing in quiet conference. Hermione recognized them as the men who were staring at her when she awoke in the grey stone room. She was proud; she could even remember their names after a few minutes of careful practice: Professor Snape (sometimes called Severus) was the dark-haired one with the cane and sour expression, and Bill was the redhead with the odd earring. Beside her sat a plump, motherly woman who introduced herself as Poppy.

Hermione turned to the thin woman on the other side of her. Minerva, she reminded herself.

Hermione stared at the photographs spread on the bed before her.

"That's me," she said, pointing to the bushy-haired girl standing in the middle of two boys. They were all dressed in school uniforms with matching crimson and gold ties.

The girl waved at her. Hermione had screamed and dropped the photograph the first time it had happened, but now, a few hours later, it seemed almost commonplace.

Familiar. It was familiar. Not homey – not the way she thought things should be, but it was familiar.

"And that's Ronald." She pointed again – this time at the cheerful redhead that looked like the man in the corner. "And that's Harry."

"Excellent, Hermione," Minerva said. "Is this helping at all?"

"A bit," she admitted. "But, it's like a dream – a dream I can barely remember."

Minerva nodded sagely. Hermione noticed that despite the heat, the older woman was wearing a tartan skirt and white blouse with a tan jacket.

"It will be like that for some time," Minerva replied.

Hermione frowned at the pictures, and then something in the back of her mind clicked into place. Images, sounds, memories began to shuffle in her memory. All the familiarity that had permeated her encounter with the moving pictures seemed to slide home.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "I remember Harry!" She looked around at the assembled company. "So it was true," she whispered.

"What was that, dear?"

"All those things Uncle Brian said!"

"Uncle Brian?" Professor Snape looked up sharply.

Hermione nodded. "Uncle Brian. He's the first person who showed me a photograph that moved."

"So you remember?" pressed the dark-haired man.

"I remember him. I remember being so surprised when I found out he was the Headmaster."

"And do you remember your friends?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Harry and Ron. Ron's a little hazy – like somebody whom I may have been introduced to once but don't really recall meeting."

"And they exist for you?"

"Yes – they're my friends, I suppose. Why aren't they here?"

There was a bang as Bill hurried towards the office at the back of the room.

"Hermione – are you absolutely sure?"

"Severus, don't press her. Are you all right, dear?"

Hermione blinked – the room was spinning. "Sorry," she said. "I'm a little dizzy."

"It is to be expected," Minerva said. "You've had quite a shock. Why don't you sit back and relax a bit?"

"Yes," Hermione replied faintly, trying to focus on the older woman and not the echoes in her head.

"And we've lost her again. I'm so sorry, Mr Granger. Martin. It appears she's had a relapse."

"Does this mean she's going back to the hospital?"

"Atalanta!"

"Possibly not, little one. From what I've read in her journal, she's made such rapid progress in the past few weeks that a relapse is to be expected."

Relapse?

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied smiling wanly at Poppy. "It's just... I keep hearing echoes."

"Echoes of what, Miss Granger?"

"How long do you think this state will last, Dr Gupta?"

"I do not know, Martin, but I think we can rest assured that she will not be gone for long this time."

But I'm here, Dad, I'm right here.

"Severus, we need to talk. I've had a long chat with Albus."

"I'm thrilled for you. How is the decrepit lunatic these days?"

Minerva made a moue of irritation.

"He wants me to remove you from Hermione's care. He even suggested you'd be better off away from Hogwarts."

"I bet."

"Severus, he said that you've only told me half the story. I think... I think it would be best if you stayed away from Hermione for a while."

"I beg your pardon?"

Hermione stirred and murmured in her sleep. Minerva took Snape's elbow and drew him away from the girl.

"Let go of me," Snape growled.

"Severus, Albus told me that you've only provided half of the story," she repeated. "And that you should tell me the rest."

"Oh, he did, did he? And you believed him? Minerva, may I remind you that he has lied to us. Repeatedly."

"And you haven't, Severus?"

"Under duress." Snape scowled. The reminder of the past year sent a tremor through his hand. He prayed Minerva did not notice. With a mighty effort, he calmed himself. "Explain," he ground out.

"Albus claimed that Hermione was actually in grave danger from Atalanta. Have you noticed, Severus, that most of our Muggle-born students are only children?"

"Lily Evans wasn't."

"Albus said you'd raise that objection. But Petunia was a special case, he said."

Snape said nothing and moved away from the witch back to the edge of the cubicle where Hermione slept.

Snape tightened his grip on his cane.

"He said," Minerva continued inexorably, "that if the Unde Orieris is, in fact, what she is cursed with, that any attempts you might make to reverse the spell would only damage her further. That a soul cursed by Unde Orieris could be severely injured by the caster of the Refracto Legilimentis - that the two spells were intertwined."

Snape refused to reply. He would not dignify Albus' ravings with a response – not if Minerva chose to believe them.

"Did you cast the Refracto Legilimentis? Albus told me to ask you."

"I cannot believe that you still trust the old bastard over me."

"Severus, Albus told me the truth – he cannot lie – not in his state as a portrait."

"Minerva, that is harpy shit, and you know it. The fact that you're choosing to believe the ravings of a disgruntled, oil paint-fume addled portrait is an insult to both of us." Pain and frustration at the constant niggling of insult and suspicion gave way to rage. "Albus manipulated us, you stupid woman," he roared, spinning to face the older witch. "He manipulated and played us like a couple of stringed instruments: sent children to their deaths, all the name of the greater good!"

Snape felt the bile rising in his throat – how easily they had been taken in by the man! How easily had Minerva gone back to him!

"Severus, this is not about personal vengeance or any grudge you may have!"

"How many lies has he told, Minerva? How many people have to die before you realize what he's doing – even from beyond the grave?"

"Severus ..."

"How willing you are to believe him! Is it because you dislike me - the greasy Slytherin? Is it because I could not tell you everything about what I was commanded to do? Because I am bound by oaths not of my choosing? Or do you refuse to trust me because I refuse to die – to leave you and your precious portraits and schoolchildren to rebuild the image of Albus Bloody Dumbledore as a hero?"

"This isn't about you."

"The hell it isn't. You can't sack me because Potter's taken on my case. But you can allow Albus to poison your mind against me. He's taken everything from me, Minerva – and now you and he want to take my atonement too!" Shite.

"Is that what this is about? Atonement?" Minerva's voice was shocked.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he mocked. "Slytherins can atone as well, you know."

"Then you are no better than he is," Minerva snapped, stepping up to him. She was not a short woman, the top of her head at his brow. "Using Hermione to atone for your sins?"

"I am not..."

"You just admitted it! Your desperate search for a cure – your work with Bill Weasley, your constant attention to Hermione – she's your penance!"

"It's not specifically about her."

"Is this about Evans? Are you turning Hermione into the Muggle-born you can save?" Minerva's voice was rich with emotion.

"Hermione is a girl who is just as much a victim as you or I! Her parentage, her birth is not the issue." He paused and rubbed his temples. The throbbing in his neck threatened to spread to his head and shoulders.

"She is a girl whose mind you almost destroyed! A girl who can barely remember her own name!" Minerva snapped her lips closed.

The headache that had been brewing burst into full flower – sending black spots in front of Snape's eyes. The rage, which had fueled his shouting match with Minerva, fizzled and died as quickly as it had grown.

Turning away from her, he stared at the girl asleep in the hospital bed. Poppy must have cast an Imperturbable Charm, for Hermione slept peacefully, undisturbed by the argument not five feet from her.

In sleep, she looked impossibly young – bushy hair spread in a halo on her pillow – she looked fragile. But he knew, after months of caring for her, of being cared for by her, she was no girl, but a woman of iron.

"She is stronger than you think, Minerva," he said quietly.

"The damage to her mind is extensive, Severus; you must admit that." Minerva was not one to give up an argument.

"I do not deny it."

"And your casting of the Refracto Legilimentis did damage her."

"Minerva, you know the circumstances under which I performed that spell."

"You cannot solve this alone."

"I will not deny that, either."

"Severus – I believe you may have been the primary caster of the Refracto Legilimentis."

"Is that what Albus told you?"

Minerva's silence was his answer.

The moment stretched. Snape turned away from the bed. "Minerva," he said quietly, "you cannot know what the old bastard held me to."

"Do you admit that you cast it?"

"I admit nothing."

"But..."

"Minerva, if you keep pressing this issue, you will be forced to summon Kingsley and his awkward squad. And the fact that you have not already chosen to do so and have me hauled away in chains ..." Snape left it hanging. Minerva did not reply. "Or were you waiting for school to begin? To make an example of me in front of your Gryffindors?"

"My dear boy." Minerva's voice broke. Snape knew he had won, but there was no joy in the victory.

"Don't."

"I ... Severus, do not think that I believe everything Albus said to me. But this I do know – you cannot be the one to heal her."

Her tone was gentle, and Snape closed his eyes. Hers was a voice that had chastised and guided him for years – longer than he cared to admit. Hers was a presence that, though she'd never know, calmed him: her no-nonsense manner guided him, the sensible aunt, the mother he'd wished for since he'd been eleven. The last scene between them before ... well, before still haunted him. And now to hear her, not in their usual sparring, but in broken honesty telling him what he knew to be true but did not want to admit rent his heart.

"Minerva, have you so little faith in me?" he asked finally.

"There was a time, quite recently, Severus, that I had no faith in you. But now," she paused, "now is not that time."

"But..."

"But I cannot risk Hermione's mind, or yours. According to your research, and to what Bill and Albus have told me, her rehabilitation will take many intense hours of Legilimency."

"And whom do you propose as capable enough to heal her?"

"You will not like this, Severus, but there is only one person living whose ability at Legilimency would rival yours."

A dreadful suspicion began to dawn upon his mind. "Minerva, you cannot be serious!" He paused and something like a laugh gurgled from him unbidden. "Why am I not surprised? I have liked precious little in this conversation thus far."

"I have written to him, and he will come to the castle for the beginning of the term. It's for the best, anyway; he deserves a chance at some decent NEWT scores. You will, of course, tutor him in the finer points of Legilimency. He has talent, but his skill ..."

Snape smirked.

"And if Potter can bring his tutor back to us – better and more of a know-it-all than before – where is the harm in that?" he asked acerbically.

AN: Not mine. No money. Thanks to Subversa, SavineSnape and Bluestocking for their invaluable help!