Thirteen

September, 1998

"So, you're saying it's something I can manage?" Hermione watched her mother's face carefully.

"Yes, exactly." Jocasta sounded as if she was trying very hard to control her excitement. "Dr Gupta says that you have the ability, now that you're back with us, to choose to stay here, to live with us – to carry on your life as you should."

"Will it get me off of the anti-psychotics?" Hermione was tired of waking in her room, feeling as if her head was full of sand. She was tired of the nightmares of forests and Dementors. But there was also security and a tingling of excitement when Severus was near. She wasn't sure she wanted to give that up.

"Perhaps," her mother replied. "You'll have to ask Dr Gupta. He's coming by tomorrow. And maybe those awful dreams will end, and you can begin to find a place here."

But is here where I want to stay?

"Hermione?" Atalanta shuffled in the doorway, a small voice from a growing girl.

"Yes?" Hermione looked over her mother's shoulder at her sister.

"Hermione, I know it's odd, but ..." Atalanta stopped, clutching a book in her hands.

"Atalanta, this isn't a good time," her mother interrupted.

"No, Mum, it's okay," Hermione said. "What do you want, Atalanta?"

"Hermione, I was wondering if ... well, back when we were small, you'd read to me, and Dr Gupta said it was good for us to," she scrunched up her face in concentration, "for us to resume normal activities – do things that we did before."

"Of course."

"And one of the things we used to do is, well, you used to read to me, and I was wondering if ..." She trailed off, blushing furiously.

"Would you like me to read to you now?" Hermione asked.

Atalanta nodded vigorously. "I've been reading these," she exclaimed, waving a battered book. "They're not thick, like the ones you used to read when you were my age, but it's fun."

Hermione held out her hand. "Whatever you'd like me to read, I'd be happy to," she said.

Atalanta beamed and hopped up onto the bed next to her sister.

Hermione opened the slim volume and began,

"If one had to pinpoint the event that sent the Bagthorpes plunging into the madness that would possess them for a whole season, then that event would be the burglary. There were other factors, of course, not the least among them the infuriating rise to fame of Zero, Grandma, and Daisy. But it was the burglary that really set things off."

Atalanta snuggled closer to Hermione as the two of them plunged into another hair-raising episode in the saga of the Bagthorpe family.

Jocasta smiled and quietly left the room, unnoticed by either of the girls.

Hermione smiled as she read – she knew her sister could be reading "better" books, but for the moment, this was perfect.

I suppose I'd forgotten this, she mused, turning a page and giggling in spite of herself. Perhaps Atalanta isn't such an annoyance, after all.

"We've lost her again," Snape said to the panting young man who had just raced into his office.

"How long, do you think?" Harry shoved his hair back and examined the still girl.

"It is hard to tell – we were speaking of the NEWT Potions curriculum, and then, as if somebody had snuffed a candle, she was gone. Why did you not attend the revision session, speaking of which?" Snape turned towards his desk, knuckles white as he gripped his cane, trying to cover his impotent rage at the setback and Potter's indolence.

Harry's brow wrinkled. "Do you think ... do you think this is a good time to try Legilimency?" he asked, dodging the second question.

"You can try, Potter – Harry," Snape replied, suppressing a sneer, "but I'd hate for you to lose your mind as well. An over-indulgence in Legilimency can have unfortunate side effects."

Harry grinned.

"Well, you've not had to watch Ron and Lavender argue over their wedding plans, have you? Why don't I have a go? If my mind goes, it'll be a relief. Legilimens!"

It took Snape several moments of outraged fury at the boy's flippancy before he realized that the little idiot had been, in his limited way, attempting to make a joke.

"Good luck, Potter," he drawled, easing into the battered desk chair and taking up his quill. School would be starting soon, and he did, after all, have work to do: work that did not involve her. He reminded himself of his pledge from that morning – he must maintain an emotional distance, for to get too close to her, a former student, was highly unacceptable.

Bitterly, he ignored the memory of her face from the night before, luminous in the firelight as she sat before him.

"Tea's ready!" Jocasta's voice echoed through the house.

"Coming, Mum!" the girls chorused from Hermione's bed. Hermione tossed aside the book.

"We can finish this later, Atalanta."

"Okay," agreed her sister.

"Make sure you wash, first!" Jocasta called.

"Go ahead," Hermione said. "I'll be right behind you."

The girl bounced off the bed and Hermione followed more slowly. The buzzing in the back of her mind that had begun only a few moments before was becoming more insistent, and she couldn't seem to shake it.

Hermione!

She stared hard at the girl reflected in her mirror, willing the buzzing to stop.

I can feel you, Hermione; just try to relax and give me a sign that you can hear me. We're trying to get you back, I promise! But you have to work with us.

It was Harry's voice. Harry. Harry, who had stuck with her in the forest. Harry, who had gone with her when they'd rescued Buckbeak and Sirius. Harry, who had always listened to her – eventually. Harry, who was her friend.

Harry, who wasn't real.

She sighed. It was too much for them to be asking of her – too much for her to keep one foot in reality and the other in her dream-world. Or was it? As the days had progressed, the line between worlds had been more and more blurry.

I'm here, Harry, she thought, taking a deep breath and trying to focus.

Hermione! Harry's thought crackled with relief.

Harry, I need ... I need time. Please. Just give me time.

"Hermione! Tea!" Her mother's voice jerked her away from her friends.

Hermione turned and hurried from the room. Harry did not reply, but she knew that he was still there – that he'd not leave her.

That afternoon, Snape paced his quarters (Poppy had been nagging him about moving about more), deep in thought. Potter's attempt at Legilimency had yielded some results – both he and Hermione (when she emerged from her state) claimed to have been able to hear the other.

"Harry!" Her voice had been filled with a joy that almost pierced Snape's heart. "You didn't leave me!"

"I told you I wouldn't," Potter had replied, reaching out for her hand and squeezing it.

"Miss Granger, do you remember what happened?" Snape had interjected, quelling the tightening in his throat.

"I had tea with Mum and Dad and Atalanta," Hermione told them, smiling wryly. "And then I read to Atalanta some more."

"Where are you now?" Snape asked.

"Dreaming," she replied vaguely. Snape was reminded, unaccountably, of the dreamy Miss Lovegood.

"Hermione?" Potter's voice cracked in anxiety.

"I mean, there I'm dreaming," Hermione hastened to explain. "I'm dreaming I'm at Hogwarts, talking to you."

Snape felt a flicker of worry – Hermione's vagueness was a new symptom: a symptom eerily reminiscent of a young Bellatrix Black, just as she was beginning to truly follow the Dark Lunatic. Frowning, he hurried to his bedroom.

The room was almost bare – thankfully, the Salazar Slytherin bed had been destroyed by Merlin only knew what during the battle. The camp bed that the elves had pilfered from the Hospital Wing suited his needs perfectly – it was more comfortable, truth be told, than the ornate monstrosity. Other than the bed, rickety bookshelves groaned under their weight. The simplicity suited him.

Selecting three volumes, he sank down onto the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he began to read about the effects of Legilimency on a mind not fully Occluded.

"Severus! Where are you?" A shout echoed through his quarters before he could find the answer he sought. Clad in grey socks and his school robes, he fumbled for his cane and rose, shuffling into the sitting room.

Bill Weasley's head poked through the Floo, the green flame clashing oddly with his red hair.

"Severus!" he exclaimed, eyes alight with excitement – even through the Floo. "I've found it – I've found the counter-curse!"

Hope leapt within Snape's breast. Hermione could be healed!

What happened to distance, you old pervert?

"But there are some problems – look, can I come through?"

"Of course." Snape stepped back to allow the other man to tumble through.

"What have you found?"

"Many things. And many problems, unfortunately." Bill brushed the soot from his ridiculous t-shirt, emblazoned with the slogan Weird Sisters World Tour, 1989. On it, the Weird Sisters cavorted with their instruments.

"Start with the problems," Snape said, determined to ignore the Weasley penchant for outlandish clothing. Perhaps it came from Molly?

"Ever the optimist, you are. One problem is--" Bill paused to catch his breath -- "one problem is that Hermione must be the one to cast the spell."

"Elucidate, Weasley; how, exactly, is that a problem?"

"Well ..." Bill sank down onto the sofa and then leaped up as Snape glared at him. "Well, there are complications."

"Name them – for Merlin's sake, man, what has your robes so twisted?"

Bill raked his hand through his hair. "Can I sit down?" he asked plaintively. "Fleur's just told me that she's pregnant and that's why she's been throwing up all night. I'm a little scattered."

"Congratulations, and welcome to the joys of parenthood," Snape sneered. "Now tell me, Weasley, or do I have to hex it out of you? I'm sure Miss Delacour would be more than pleased right now if your impending child did not have brothers and sisters!" To emphasize the point, he drew his wand.

Bill looked a bit nervous and remained standing, arms crossed. "Fine," he placated. "The problems are these. One: to cast the Reparo Legilimentilis, which would counter the Unde Orieris, requires an enormous amount of magical ability."

"I fail to see how that is a problem for Hermione. She is a strong and powerful witch." Snape chose that moment to sink into the wingback chair by the fire.

"Well, that's the first part of the problem. Problems." Bill began to pace.

"Go on."

"The difficulty is that if one who has had the Refracto Legilimentilis cast upon them casts the Reparo Legilimentilis, it is possible she can erase her mind entirely. The two spells tend to work in tandem, like an Obliviate gone wrong."

"Explain. And for Merlin's sake, if it's that important to you, sit down and stop wearing out my hearthrug!"

Bill flopped onto the sofa and folded his hands, cracking his knuckles one by one. "It works like this: when one casts the Refracto, one also follows up with the Reparo, to restore certain memories. But one has to cast both spells on oneself. It's sort of a more efficient version of Occulmens, actually.

"But if the Refracto has been cast by someone else, the effects of the Reparo can be dangerous. It would stop the Unde Orieris, but it could also completely erase the subject's mind." He sank back, spreading his hands.

"I see," said Snape after a pause. He frowned, concentrating. "Hermione must cast the spell herself. But if she does, because someone else cast the Refracto Legimentilis upon her, she stands not only to stop the effects of the Unde Orieris but also lose her mind entirely."

Bill nodded glumly. "Exactly. But she needs to know, Severus; we can't hide the truth from her."

"No, we can't. But let us do some more research, Weasley. As you know, she's a Gryffindor – like you – she'd fly off without a broom if she discovered what we know."

Bill nodded and grinned. "You're right, of course. I'll Floo you tomorrow, and we can work some more on this. I should be getting back; Fleur will be missing me."

"Weasley?" Snape rose, leaning on his cane.

"Yes?" Bill leapt from the sofa.

Snape shuffled to the kitchenette and reached into a cupboard.

"Before you go, take this." He tossed a small vial at the redhead.

"What is it?"

"Nausea Potion. It's perfectly safe."

Bill's smile was broad as he caught the vial with a flourish. "Thanks, Severus," he said. "I reckon you weren't ever really a bad sort, were you?"

"Get out, Weasley," Snape growled, glaring at him.

He remained glaring at the spot Bill had occupied long after the Floo had ceased to glow green.

He was trying to sleep. Merlin knew he was exhausted – beyond exhausted – but Bill's words rattled through his head:

"She needs to know the truth, Severus."

"Too much truth has already been hidden, Albus; she deserves to know."

"That's rich," Snape muttered, "coming from the likes of you." Raising his voice he called out, "Enter, Alecto!"

AN: Not mine, no money. Special thanks to Subversa, Bluestocking79, and SavineSnape for making this readable!

The selection Hermione reads to Atalanta is from Bagthorpes Unlimited by Helen Cresswell and does not belong to me.