Chapter 8

Chapter 8

While Professor Snape continued to stare out the window into the darkness, Hermione forced herself to continue reading. She wasn't really absorbing much of what she read, though. Her mind seemed inexorably pulled toward the last time they had been here.

Eight Years Ago

When she realised he no longer believed she was Lily, she fled from his room, heart pounding, hoping it had been too dark for him to recognise her. Until the very end of that conversation in the middle of the night, she hadn't recognised the signs that he was coming out of his delirium and would comprehend that Lily couldn't be talking to him or comforting him as she was.

She hadn't planned it, of course. Once the dust settled from the final battle, it had occurred to her that she hadn't heard anything of how he was recovering from his injuries. The Prophet hadn't reported his death, as she assumed it would, so she began asking those she was working with on the repairs to Hogwarts if they knew anything. No one seemed to have any idea what happened to him once he got to St. Mungo's, even though everyone seemed to know by now which side he had been working for. Eventually, Poppy asked after him during a Floo consultation with a Healer over one of her patients, and told Hermione, "They have him under medical stasis. They're trying to build up his blood volume, but the remaining venom in his system seems to be slowing things down. It appears the venom has evolved in some way since Arthur Weasley was bit. Probably some nasty bit of Dark Magic ..."

"May I visit him?"

"I should imagine so, dear, though I'm not sure there's any point. He won't know you're there."

"It doesn't matter, does it? He has no one else; someone should be there for him. Can you imagine how awful it would be to wake up alone?"

"You're such a kind girl, Hermione, always taking care of anyone who needs it."

So she had gone, and kept going, to visit him, taking along books and journals so she could read to him. The Healers thought she was crazy, but they weren't particularly strict about visiting hours since she wasn't disturbing his rest. She often dozed off in the chair beside his bed, only to wake up in the wee hours of the morning and return to Grimmauld Place, where she was staying with Harry until she figured out what to do next.

She reasoned if the Healers were right and he couldn't hear her, then sitting with him, reading to him, would do no harm, while if he could, it might help. It seemed to her that after a few days, he looked more relaxed and breathed a bit easier when she read to him.

When the Stasis Charm was lifted at last, he was still very sick – delirious with fever and pain, it seemed. He kept thrashing in his sleep, calling for Lily, begging for forgiveness. Hermione had found she couldn't refuse to answer when he stared at her as he pleaded with Lily to accept his apology. She reasoned that after everything he had done, no one could refuse his pleas – certainly not a woman whose son he had done so much for. Soon, she was so used to answering him as Lily that it came naturally – she didn't have to think about it as she told him yes, he was forgiven, and no, it wasn't his time to die. It hadn't occurred to her that he might realise in the middle of a conversation that she wasn't actually Lily.

When she returned a few days after fleeing his comprehension, word had apparently spread that he was awake. The mediwitch told her he had had a number of visitors since waking – Poppy, Minerva, Hagrid, Flitwick. Even Luna had visited. With most of them, she said he had been terse but generally civil. He had been rude to just one visitor – Rita Skeeter, who had had the temerity to approach him about a book she wanted to write about his double life.

When Hermione entered his room, she rather expected to be treated the way most of his other visitors had been, but she soon learned he had no intention of being even marginally civil to her. Initially, she put it down to his lingering symptoms, or to tiredness after a number of other visitors had paraded through his room. But after trying every few days for several weeks, long after other visitors got caught up in their own lives and stopped coming to see him, and soon after his insults and demands for her to leave grew more insistent and less polite, she finally accepted he just didn't like her and didn't want her there. She sent him a note wishing him a speedy and full recovery and moved on with her life. She took notice when the Prophet announced his release from hospital, and when he was acquitted of any wrongdoing, and when he was reinstated at Hogwarts, but other than that, she gave him little thought until the Arithmancy post opened up.

Now, eight years later, here they were again, only he suddenly seemed to want her there, even though he didn't appear to have anything to say to her. She was jarred from her musings when he asked abruptly, "Why did you do it?"

Her eyes flew to his. "Do what? Come back to Hogwarts?"

"No, not that. Why did you pretend to be Lily?"

Severus watched the blood drain from Hermione's face as the question sank in. He had reluctantly concluded that the only way to convince her of his sincerity was to allow her to understand what he had been holding against her all these years, and why. After a moment, she asked, "You – you knew? You recognised me? And didn't say anything?"

Severus hastily corrected her assumption. "I didn't know immediately. I knew someone must have pretended to be her – that last night, my mind cleared enough to realise it wasn't a ghost or a dream. I didn't see who it was, though. But then, every time you came here after I woke up, I got even more irritated than usual – something about you set me off every time. It wasn't until I got your letter when you stopped visiting that I realised. So tell me why?"

Looking away, Hermione sighed. "You were so weak, so ill, and so very depressed. You needed something to live for – a reason to go on. In short, you needed Lily – her forgiveness, her blessing – and it seemed to me that after everything you'd done, she would have freely given it. So I gave it on her behalf. I never expected or wanted you to know. What gave me away?"

"Your scent." Hermione looked confused, so he clarified, "When you were – comforting – me that last night, you smelled of almonds. The scent lingered on the parchment of your letter, as well; it triggered my memory, and I knew it was you."

"I used to use almond-scented bath oil and lotion all the time," Hermione mused aloud. "Still do, occasionally."

"I know. It always puts me in a particularly foul mood."

"Is this what you've been angry about?" Sounding offended, she turned to glare at him. "I was trying to help you! Is that really so offensive that it would cause you to hold a grudge for eight years?"

Severus forced himself to be honest, even though it went against every natural instinct he had. She's Gryffindor, he reminded himself, not Slytherin. She has an unnatural attachment to truth. "That's not how I saw it at the time. Perhaps I wasn't thinking clearly – keep in mind I was ... ill, and coming out of twenty years of trusting essentially no one."

"But it's been years – in all that time, it never occurred to you that I was just trying to help you?"

"Why would you help me? You hated me, as far as I knew." He gestured impatiently. "If you must know, I found the whole episode so ... humiliating ... that I avoided thinking about it again."

"Then why hire me at all? Why not refuse me outright when I enquired about the Arithmancy post? Or why not bring it up then?"

Severus found himself reluctantly amused. A perfect example of her Gryffindor tendencies ... He decided to tell her so. "Hermione, you're thinking like a Gryffindor. I'm sure that's what any member of your house would have done. You're forgetting that when I got your letter, I was thinking like a Slytherin."

"So you ... what? Pretended to be interested in a fresh start so you could spend the next three years getting back at me?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Why is that ridiculous? You certainly didn't actually want civility between us."

Instead of answering her directly, Severus asked, "Tell me, Hermione, have you ever blackmailed anyone?"

She flushed, avoiding his eyes again. "N – no, of course not."

He raised an eyebrow and waited until she returned her eyes to his. "Lucius is right. You're a terrible liar. Just tell me this: if you had blackmailed someone, hypothetically speaking, who would it have been, why, and what would you have said?"

She looked suspicious. "Hypothetically only?" He nodded. She spoke hesitantly at first. "Well, I suppose if I had ... say ... learnt something ... incriminating ... about a reporter ... perhaps one who liked to write exaggerations and lies that hurt people, I suppose I might have ... possibly used that information to persuade that person to write and publish an article that was more truthful." She finished in a rush, as though the words couldn't be contained any longer.

"See? Even your blackmail is done Gryffindor-style." Severus allowed his voice to reflect his ongoing amusement at her hypothetical confession (and her discomfort with it, if he were completely honest).

"What does that mean?" She looked mildly affronted. She really could be amusing to talk to, Severus mused.

"Before I answer that, tell me how you would have gotten the hypothetical reporter to publish what you wanted? What would you have said?"

"I suppose ... well ... I'd probably say something like 'I've written this article and if you don't publish it under your byline, I'll report you to the Ministry.' Why?"

"Because if I had been at all clear in the head in the past three years, I would have realised that what I took as blackmail was actually worded far too subtly to actually be that, unless it was from a fellow Slytherin."

Hermione paled again before she jumped up and started pacing. "You thought I was blackmailing you? When? And with what?"

"Would you please sit down? You're making me dizzy." She glared at him before complying. "It started with your letter about the Arithmancy post, and then some of the things you said during the interview seemed to me to confirm my belief."

She seemed to be having trouble processing this disclosure, asking again, "You thought I blackmailed you for my job? Why would I do that? I've never cheated on anything in my life. It would never occur to me to do that!" She looked deeply offended, and perhaps even hurt, at the implication.

"Yes, well, I finally realised that after discussing your attempted resignation with Lucius. That man is the master of plotting and manipulation, and he was most insistent that it wasn't your style to blackmail me in such a manner. He also pointed out that you'd have been able to get nearly any job you wanted – you wouldn't need to leverage anything in your favour."

He watched her in silence for a moment, waiting to see if she would be mollified by his admission of his longstanding mistake about her character. Before she said anything more, though, the Healer bustled in. "I'm sorry, miss, you'll have to come back tomorrow. Visiting hours are over, and the headmaster needs his potions and then some rest."

"All right," Hermione said, sounding relieved as she hurried toward the door. "Good night, Headmaster."

"Hermione, wait!"

Turning, she asked, "What?"

Much as he hated the thought, if he was going to win her over, he would have to make some concessions. He snapped, "First, my name is Severus, and I expect you to use it. Second, I would be most grateful if you would return tomorrow."

She stared at him for a long moment before hesitantly agreeing. "All right. I suppose ... I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Hermione's head was aching by the time she reached Hogwarts. Upon reaching her quarters, she rummaged through the medicine cupboard until she found a Headache Potion. Then, as she began her bedtime ritual, she allowed herself to review their conversation.

She didn't know why she was so upset by the suspicion toward her he had just revealed. It shouldn't have surprised her, she supposed – he had always been mistrustful of almost everyone he knew, hadn't he? And those he had trusted – well, they had all let him down, hadn't they? Lucius, Dumbledore, Minerva, his parents ... Lily. Especially Lily. Hermione could almost hate the woman for refusing to forgive him when he was so obviously contrite. If she had, who knew how his life might have been different?

Then again, she supposed if his life had been different, they might not have won the war. She snorted aloud at the thought that Dumbledore's greater good really was served by Professor Snape's – no, she thought, must get used to calling him Severus – relationship failures all those years ago. It really wasn't fair. When would his past stop hurting him and anyone who tried to care for him? Hadn't he suffered enough? Hadn't they all? And how was his continued suffering serving anyone now?

It wasn't his general suspicion, but the depth of his distrust toward her in particular that really had caught her off guard. No wonder he had warned his student about her. If he thought she would stoop to blackmail to get a job, why shouldn't he believe she'd steal her students' work? If ambition outweighed integrity in one instance, why not in another? Why not in every instance?

Still, to realise his opinion of her was so very low when he had known her for more than fifteen years made her want to cry. Intellectually, she understood his history made him look for nefarious motives and plots everywhere, but emotionally ...

Why couldn't he see that she wasn't like that? Why couldn't he give her the benefit of the doubt, just once?

She got into bed and pondered the question for a long time before finally falling asleep.