Chapter Four

Hermione Apparated to Hogsmeade and then made her way up the road towards the castle. As she was passing the Shrieking Shack, she decided she had best go in and collect the piece of floor board. It would make it easier, at the castle, to connect with Snape, she reasoned. Eyeing the lengthening shadows, she hurried across the dead expanse of land to the dilapidated structure.

The room was cloaked in shadows when she entered. Using a slicing charm, she severed a square of wood about the size of her hand from the old, brittle floor. The entire fragment was stained a dark reddish-brown.

As she rose to stand, a wave of power caused her to stumble. Where the hell have you been, Granger! The voice of Severus Snape filled her head, an irate, frustrated Severus Snape.

Hermione grabbed for the wall as she tried to control her dizziness. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths.

Granger! the nasty voice called.

It made her shudder. Shut up and give me a moment! If you don't, I'll black out again. At that, there was a blessed reprieve of silence. She was tired and in pain and really wasn't in the mood to deal with his demanding attitude. Going through some of the techniques that Chance had taught her, she carefully built up shields around her mind, visualizing and focusing her thoughts through a hole in the middle, like a focal point. She was allowing the information in, narrowing it down and projecting it into her mind in a clearer fashion. I'm ready, but take it slowly, she finally thought to him.

Where have you been, girl? Snape demanded crossly.

Professor Snape, I am willing to help, but I assure you, you will be treating me with respect. I'm not a girl any more, nor am I your student. I'm your replacement at Hogwarts and a fully qualified Potions master.

Granger, I am fully aware of the fact that ten years of grueling work are required to achieve a mastery in Potions. Ten years which have certainly not passed since I last saw your insufferable self.

With all due respect, Sir, the war changed a lot of things. I was pressed into duty shortly after I took my NEWTs. Professor Slughorn apprenticed me for two years, and I undertook the rest of my classes by correspondence. I assure you, I've covered every bit of material in the syllabus, and much more besides.

I'm sure you did. You knew nearly as much as I did when I was still teaching you.

Hermione was momentarily shocked into mental silence, but quickly recovered. Was that a compliment?

No. You were a know-it-all little swot. Forget that, woman, and tell me what you have done to find me.

Hermione huffed with indignation, but was forced to concede the truth of the statement. She left the shack, clutching the small square of wood, her fingers in contact with the dark stain. The connection lessened a tad but remained strong enough to communicate with relative comfort. She hurried away from the shabby ruin, with its creaks and dark windows like accusing eyes, making her skin crawl.

Sir, I've done some research on Muggle computers, trying to narrow down the places you might be in Europe. I have also contacted a Healer at St. Mungos for Occlumency lessons to help me focus your thoughts. Your Legilimancy is somewhat flawed.

Impudent whelp, he snarled, I am the foremost Legilimens and Occlumens of our time. I fooled the Dark Lord!

No disrespect meant, sir. I think the muggle drugs are making your focus weak, and you were making me quite ill every time you attempted to communicate with me.

There was a long silence, and Hermione was about to assume he had fallen asleep when she heard him say, My apologies. It has taken me years to focus enough to reach through the haze of drugs. Whenever I show any outward signs of consciousness, they pump more vile substances into me. I shudder to think at what the imbeciles might be doing to my internal organs.

Hermione felt tears burn her eyes. I'm sorry, sir. It may take some time to find you. There are many facilities across this continent.

I understand. The communication seems stronger. Why is that?

Hermione hesitated at the prospect of telling him what she had done.

Out with it, woman, Snape demanded.

I... I went to the Shrieking Shack and took a piece of the blood-stained floor. I have it in my hand, Hermione reluctantly informed him.

Ingenious. He balked. She was not supposed to have heard that. It seems we may have to come to a truce. Sharing thoughts, as it were, will allow us both insights of each other.

I would like that, sir. The more co-operation between us, the faster I'll be able locate you. You must listen carefully. Do you have clues from your carers' conversations? Maybe they have mentioned a nearby restaurant, or a park, or some other kind of landmark? Anything you think might be helpful? Please, you must relate it to me.

Well, my hearing seems affected by the drugs that they give, and their voices are muffled, at best. I will start to focus on them. My information seems to come from smells. When I was a child, I had to endure muggle hospitals on several different occasions. Each time my eyes have been opened, I see only a white ceiling, and then they place moisturizer drops in my eyes. I can't... see through... it. His thoughts became more unfocused, and Hermione was forced to let him go. Her head was beginning to ache, and there was little more he could tell her. He was probably slipping into unconsciousness again.

She hurried up the remainder of the dark road, and after stepping onto the warded grounds of Hogwarts, she lit her wand to show her the way over the uneven ground to the castle doors. Slipping through the doors, she saw Hagrid heading into the Great Hall for dinner. She used a quick charm to clean herself and smooth her robes, and tucked the piece of board into her bag before entering the Great Hall. Hermione caught Poppy's eye and nodded a greeting to her.

Minerva was already seated and Hermione hurried to take her place. "Hermione," she called, "did you enjoy the visit with your parents?"

"Yes, Minerva. Very much, thank you. It made me realize just how much I've missed them. I hope to continue to go and see them on my weekends off."

"A wonderful idea, Hermione - you need more sunlight," the Headmistress insisted. "You've spent too much time holed up in those dungeons."

Hermione took the empty chair next to Poppy. Fortunately they were four chairs down from Minerva, and there was an empty space between them and Sybil Trelawney. Sybil always seemed to be in her own world. Nonetheless, Hermione cast an undetectable silencing charm around them.

Poppy asked anxiously, "How was Chance?" Then she blushed. "I mean, was he able to help you?"

Hermione smiled. "He was in good health and quite a handsome man for his age. He did help a great deal." She told her more details about their visit and the lessons, then about going back to the Shrieking Shack. Finally, she told her about the conversation she and Snape had had. "His communication was so much clearer. He understands that fighting their drugs only makes them give him more. He knows I'm his only hope now. He is becoming more alert, and his thoughts are much more concise - with my new connection and the lessons, I don't think I'll experience as many debilitating side effects. Poppy, I'm so grateful to you for sending me to Healer Leurantte."

"I'm glad he could be of help." The woman looked like she wanted to ask more, but she sighed and kept her peace.

"Chance seemed to be a rather lonely man, particularly with his wife having passed on several years ago," Hermione observed, taking a sip of tea.

"His wife's gone?" Poppy whispered.

"Yes, and his children live abroad. I really think he would welcome a correspondence with you."

Poppy blushed. "Do you really think so, Hermione?"

"Yes, forgive the fact that we discussed you, but he did say he had regrets and he thought you to be a beautiful woman." Poppy stared at her, and Hermione wondered if she would be angry with her.

"Oh, Hermione, thank you! This news is very welcome. But I'm not beautiful anymore." Her fingers stuffed a strand of graying hair back into the confines of her cap.

"You are, Poppy. And if you meet with him, you won't be wearing these robes. You can dress up - have your hair done. I can see that you would be quite fetching if you didn't have these matronly robes on. It's the image you need here to maintain your professionalism, but out there, you can be whoever you were before you took this job. It's time to cut loose the reins this place has on you. Take a chance and go for it!"

"Go for it?" Poppy laughed. "That's a phrase, alright. I'll send a 'Thank You' letter to start with," she said, decisively.

Hermione smiled. "I know he will be very pleased to hear from you again." She removed the silencing spell, and they talked about the potions Poppy needed for her stores.

After dinner, Hermione spent some time setting up for the next day's classes and then retired to her rooms. She took a hot shower before she crawled into bed, tired from the weekend's activities. She smiled, thinking about the visit with her parents, and she thought a lot about Snape and the daunting task ahead of finding him. She questioned the wisdom of keeping it between herself and the two older witches. If she told Harry, she had no doubt the whole Auror division of the Ministry would be put to the task of finding him. But then his re-entrance into the Wizarding World would be very public, and she would not have that. They had no idea how long or difficult his recovery might be. Being able to open only his eyes so far was not encouraging. She had no idea what other parts of his body had been affected by the venom. He had been so long without treatment. She hoped to create some potions that would destroy the residual poisons in his body and allow him to return to consciousness.

Hermione turned toward her bag on the bedside table and opened it, bringing out the piece of wood. She studied its dark stain. It now appeared to be part of the wood. No-one seeing it would recognize it as blood. She let a finger slip down the side and thought Snape? Only silence met her, and in a few moments her hand, still clutching the wood, dropped to the bed, and she fell asleep.

Curiously, she found herself walking down that stark white hall again, and again she tried to open the doors. She hurried her steps toward the double doors and down the aisle between the many beds. She stood looking down at the visage of her sleeping Professor, and leaning down, she gave him the "Snow White" kiss. She was startled when the Professor on the bed opened his eyes and stared at her.

"Really, Granger, I'm not a prince in a fairy tale, I assure you."

Hermione felt her face heat up. Oh God, he is in my dream. Furthermore, why am I dreaming such a stupid dream? She had never been one to care much for fairy tales. Cold hard facts had been her Modus Operandi as a child. "One can hardly control 'silly dreams,' and what are you doing in my dream? It is rather personal and an invasion of my privacy," she primly informed him.

"Pardon me," he said with a sneer. "I have little control over when and where I can communicate. Now shut up, you foolish girl, I may not have much time."

Hermione leaned down nearly nose to nose with him. "I've told you, I am not a girl and I will not be abused by you. You will be civil, or I will let the Auror department search you out."

He drew back, pressing himself against the bed. "I am feeling rather desperate here," he said, in the way of an apology. "They could detect my alertness and sedate me again on principle."

Hermione's glare faltered. "Would they do that?"

"It's happened," he informed her.

"But why? Isn't it their goal to wake you up and get you well?" she asked.

"I think there is a different motive here. I detected a few words today. I listened so hard my head ached for hours. I distinctly heard the words... "This one... brings Government money.... Lots of it."

"Those scabs! I will blow that place wide open when I find you." Hermione was outraged.

"My, my, Miss Granger. Quite the hellcat, aren't you?" He had that same nasty voice which he had so often used to complain about Harry.

"Do you want my help or not? Keep a civil tongue in your head."

He glared at her.

"I have to go to a few more lessons in Occlumency," she continued. "During that time I will be brewing some potions that might help you regain consciousness. Also, I am going home on the weekends to search the internet for Muggle facilities within England and then the European continent. I know patience is not...."

He interrupted her, annoyed. "I am a spy; I have patience that would surprise you. I just don't have enough of it to waste it on know-it-alls or dunderheads," he growled at her.

"Well, I'm not seeing it here. You are the most aggravating greasy git!" she spat. If he was going to continue to insult her, despite her warnings, she would not put up with it. She would just insult him right back.

"It's not greasy, woman, it is baby-fine and extra shiny," he argued petulantly. "Potion fumes make it clump." His eyes flashed, showing a deep, age-old hurt from her words.

Was she able to see more of who he really was in the dream realm? After all, they were really connected by thoughts, and in his state it would be harder for him to hide his weaknesses. Seeing him vulnerable forced her to say, "Again I apologize. Can we try hard not to share insults, sir?"

He scowled at her for a moment before huffing and replying, "Agreed. Your plans are well thought out. I will attempt to catch the conversations around me..."

His thoughts faded away and Hermione woke from the dream. She lay there thinking about all they had discussed. Had it been a dream from start to finish or had he really invaded her sleep? It would be a better way to communicate - here in the dream world - actually looking into his face. He was so damned annoying. His few apologies had caught her by surprise. Her theory that he would be more exposed was panning out. She was surprised to find herself pitying this man. All the things he had been forced to endure, under such difficult circumstances, and he had never allowed himself to feel emotion. She had never seen him let his feelings show, except during the memories he had shared with Harry. Those memories had nearly sent her to her knees - the feelings he had had for Lily had made her see him in an entirely different way. She would have to try to separate all those bad encounters she'd had as a child with him and see him more as the man he had hidden away, the man he truly was. He was capable of fierce, never-ending love, and that made him a completely different person from the horrid teacher she'd dealt with for so many years. If she was to work with him, they would have to let the past go.

Work the next day took most of her attention and time. The potion she had assigned her students was a more difficult one for the upper classes, and she had to be constantly alert and watching for mistakes. After dinner she went to the library to look for certain books she remembered noticing as a student, books about herbal strengtheners that might help Snape's condition. She had little doubt that long misuse of prescription drugs would leave him physically impaired. His muscles would have atrophied, leaving his limbs thin and weak. She would have to combine this with a muscle re-growth potion. No matter what, she would have to have time to sneak in and Apparate him out.

For a few nights, she thought about the process of going in for a few nights once she located him and giving him the potions to help regenerate his body tissues before waking him enough to get him out. But then someone might notice the changes and take tests. Could she perform a competent enough Glamour Charm to give the impression that he remained weak and emaciated? There were so many variables to consider. If, by some horrid chance, there were Wizards or Witches involved in keeping him a prisoner... She decided not to worry about something like that now. She could make plans later. How many other people might this place be keeping in vegetative states to collect the money from the government? Was it her responsibility to expose this as well?

I want to thank all the people who have helped get this chapter into the Queue. Lydia, Suzanne, Nicole, and Snowfox. Their suggestions and corrections have helped to shape this chapter into what I hope is excellent condition. Ladies, I appreciate your help. I'd also like to thank writermerrin for her help and patience.