Chapter 9 - Either Way I Lose

Chapter 9 - Either Way I Lose

Severus,

Hermione

That had been two days ago, and Hermione still hadn't heard a word from Snape. She cringed at the thought of her last missive. She had sent it to him in a moment of weakness, at three o'clock in the morning.

Hermione hated how it made her sound. Desperate, vulnerable, insecure.

And like a complete stalker, she thought gloomily, staring out the window in the Gryffindor common room. The sky was filled with dark, heavy clouds, raindrops smattering against the window pane.

"Come on, Hermione, we need to get to the rehearsal," Harry said softly, touching her shoulder.

"Rehearsal?" she asked fuzzily, shifting focus from the weather to her friend.

"Yeah, you know." He shrugged. "How to walk, where to sit, when to smile on Friday."

"Oh," she sighed. "I had totally forgotten about that."

"We're actually graduating." Harry smiled. "Who would have thought?"

"Yeah, but you'd think they'd trust us enough to find a couple of seats without setting the castle on fire or something," Ron chipped in grumpily, burying his face in the crook of his arm in a sneeze.

"Considering your history, Ron, I don't even think a rehearsal like this is enough to get you sorted," Hermione said teasingly.

"Oh, come on. When have I ever failed to follow instructions?" he asked, grinning broadly.

Hermione snorted out a laugh. "You wouldn't be able to follow instructions to save your life, you dingbat."

"You know," Ron said as they trotted out the portrait hole, one behind the other. "You're the only one calling me that without actually making me feel like one."

"Really?" she replied, shooting him a cheeky grin. "Then I'm obviously saying it wrong."

They duo continued their friendly banter all the way down to the Entrance Hall, with Harry snickering behind them.

"Hang on," Ron said and stopped short just outside the doors to the Great Hall. Sniveling, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose loudly, folded the handkerchief once and blew his nose again before putting it back in his pocket.

"Maybe you should be in bed?" Hermione said with a grimace.

"It's just a cold," he replied thickly, absently touching the back of his head. "I'm fine."

Hermione put a hand on his arm. "How's your head? I don't think I've asked you since ... well, since after the game."

Ron's expression clouded. "I'm not in any physical pain, if that's what you mean," he muttered. "But if that bloody chest hadn't been smashed into my skull, we probably would've won the Cup."

"Come on, mate, you know that's not true," Harry protested. "We did our best, but Hufflepuff was the better team, to be honest."

Ron made to retort but instead lowered his voice, jerking his head upwards. "Speak of the devil."

Hermione turned around and felt her breath hitch as she saw Snape come striding down the stairs, his nose in a book. Her hand instantly flew to her bushy hair in a nervous attempt to flatten it out.

Snape reached the bottom of the stairs and turned swiftly, walking by the trio without even acknowledging their existence.

He can't even look at me anymore, Hermione thought as she watched him disappear down the corridor leading to the dungeons, a dreadful feeling spreading in the pit of her stomach.

"Sodding wanker," Ron grumbled, throwing a dirty look at Snape's retreating form as he opened the doors. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

This feels an awful lot like déjà vu, Hermione thought distractedly as she sized up the wooden door belonging to the Potions classroom.

She had been standing there for the last five minutes, unable to pluck up enough courage to knock.

After rehearsal was over, she had told Ron and Harry that she needed to pop by Madam Pomfrey real quick. "Nothing serious, just women stuff," she had told them, making them both uncomfortable and reluctant to inquire any further.

Instead, she had made her way down to the dungeons. Which was where she found herself at that very moment, her heart beating a tattoo on her ribcage. She couldn't put together a coherent thought, much less shake the impending feeling of an upcoming disaster. Or heartbreak. Or both.

Hermione took a few deep breaths, desperately trying to keep the nausea at bay.

She carefully knocked on the door, waiting for the familiar voice to bellow, "Enter!" But no sound came from within. She knocked again, this time with a little bit more confidence.

Finally, Snape suspiciously opened the door, a frown on his face.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sev-Professor. But I'm here to discuss your response to my letters. Or your lack thereof," she said, letting out a short, shaky laugh.

"I am not sure I understand what you are referring to, Miss Granger," Snape said stiffly, ignoring her attempt at a joke.

"So we're back to Miss Granger now?" she asked quietly. "I..." She broke off, suddenly unable to find her voice.

He looked at her indifferently. "Are you quite done?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered, staring at him, eyes prickling with tears. "I suppose I am."

"Then I need you to leave, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly.

Hermione stared disbelievingly at the closed door. Choking back a sob, she leaned her forehead against the wood, closing her eyes. Get a grip on yourself.

She slowly turned around, and when she opened her eyes, she found herself face to face with Dumbledore, a furious look on his face. She stumbled backwards, taken by surprise.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, I didn't mean to frighten you." Dumbledore's expression softened, changing into one of sympathy and concern. "Are you alright?" he asked kindly as he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Y-yes," she said shakily. "No. I don't know." She squirmed away from his grasp. "I've got to go."

Tears streaming down her face, she ran from the dungeons. Out of breath, with her make-up smeared across her face and her hair on end, she barged into the Gryffindor common room.

Harry and Ron, who were sitting in a corner playing wizard's chess, immediately looked up in alarm.

"What's happened?" Harry asked, bolting upright, knocking over a couple of pieces.

"I can't stay here," Hermione choked out, gasping for air. "I need to go, I-I need to go home."

"What?" Harry said, confused. "What do you mean? Graduation is in two days!" he added exasperatedly as Hermione started to climb the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

"Hermione, wait! Talk to me!" He scrambled after her but the steps slid away from under his feet, and he instantly found himself in a heap at the bottom. "Hermione!" he yelled, but to no avail.

Inside, Hermione furiously started throwing things in her trunk. When she got back downstairs, Harry and Ron were anxiously pacing the floor.

"Would you please tell us what's going on?" Harry pleaded. "Is it Christopher?"

She shot him an angry look. "Yes, yes, it is. My love life is a farce. Does that make you happy?" she asked bitterly.

"I would never, that's not what I..." He said, a hurt look on his face.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said ruefully, pinching her nose. "That was uncalled for." She smiled weakly at her two best friends. "I'll be back before Friday; don't worry. I ... I just need to do this, okay?"

With her trunk levitating behind her, Hermione sprinted through the castle. If I can only make it to the Apparition point without...

"Not so fast, Granger," a voice called out, making Hermione stop in her tracks. Oh, for God's sake!

Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson slowly walked up to her, grinning from ear to ear. Hermione instantly felt a vein starting to throb near her temple.

"Why so glum? Lost another privilege?" Parkinson sneered.

Bulstrode cackled at the joke. "Seems like the Gryffindor princess is finally cracking."

"Bugger off," Hermione said angrily, trying to get pass the new Head Girl and her toad-like accomplice.

"Ooh, try to behave, Granger, or I might just feel inclined to take away some points," Parkinson replied airily.

"Finite Incantatem," Hermione snarled, making her trunk fall to the floor with a heavy thud.

She turned to Pansy, a mad look in her eyes. "Do you have ANY idea what I'm capable of?" Hermione snatched her wand out. "DO YOU?" she roared.

Alarmed, both Parkinson and Bulstrode quickly backed up, exchanging terrified looks.

"Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus, did you know?" Hermione said shrilly. "She's a beetle. And do you know what I did when I found out? I caught her and kept her in a bloody jar."

Hermione advanced on the two girls, sweat beads forming on their foreheads.

"I deliberately led Dolores Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest and let her get taken by centaurs," she hissed. "It took Dumbledore hours to find her.

And I was this close, THIS CLOSE"...she held up her thumb and index finger..."to hexing your Head of House into nothingness."

Hermione breathed raspily. "Now imagine what I would do to a couple of good-for-nothing idiots like yourselves."

Pansy threw her arms up, positively green in the face. "Alright, alright. Take it easy, Granger; you look like you're about to have a seizure."

"Then MOVE or I bloody will!"

Severus Snape hesitantly made his way into the Great Hall. It was packed to the brim with proud parents and siblings, grandparents and cousins, ex-students and friends, expectantly awaiting the graduates.

The four long house tables had been cleared away to make room for hundreds of white folding chairs, meticulously placed in neat rows in front of the podium.

He cast a glance at the Headmaster as he took his usual seat at the Head Table. Dressed in deep purple velvet robes, Dumbledore stood beaming in front of the crowd, ready to commence the ceremony any minute.

Snape let his hair fall in front of his face, creating a familiar curtain around him, shutting out the world.

He had fucked up.

Mere seconds after he had kissed Hermione goodnight and sent her back to the Gryffindor tower, the Headmaster's head had appeared in Snape's fire grate. Dumbledore had known of course. And he had been livid.

Snape shuddered. The scene that had unfolded in Dumbledore's office shortly afterwards had been an undignified affair, to say the least.

"I don't want to hear it, Severus. Just get out of my sight."

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Everything he had ever touched had turned into ashes and soot, one way or the other. And like everything else in his life, this last unexpected turn of events had also ended in flames.

It was a curse. But a curse he now intended to break.

He hadn't noticed it at first, how Hermione slowly, almost invisibly, had been chipping away at the steel mask he up until just recently had been regarding as a permanent imprint on his very personality.

Yet somehow she had been able to penetrate it. And subsequently stirred something to life within him that had been dead for a very long time.

He had read her letters over and over again, desperately wanting to answer them. Her plea for him to talk to her had made him want to storm the castle in search for her, making her understand that he wasn't ending anything, merely pausing it until she no longer was his student.

Instead, he had, once again, succumbed to Dumbledore and his bidding and forced himself to stay away. The only thought comforting him as he found himself confined to the walls of his rooms, was the one of Hermione graduating, making it possible for him to finally explain. To make things right.

Hermione would understand, he told himself. She had been the brains and wits of the Golden Trio after all. Striving for, and relying on, reason. What was she, if not sensible?

When he had found out that she had left the castle in tears after their last encounter, he had been sick with worry. After a couple of gruesome hours, he had swallowed some of his pride and gone to McGonagall. She in turn had given him the oddest look before pursing her lips, curtly saying, "Well, I never thought I'd live to see the day Severus Snape made a concerned inquiry after a student. But if you must know, Hermione had some family business to attend to. She will be back for the graduation ceremony."

And any second now, he would see her again. Snape felt his pulse quicken at the mere thought.

Dumbledore suddenly cleared his throat loudly, a dense silence filling the room.

Snape gazed out the Hall, feeling his stomach drop as he noticed Christopher Collins sitting next to the Grangers, a couple of rows back. What is that self-righteous birdbrain doing here?

His thought was abruptly cut short as thunderous applause and cheers broke out, saluting the graduates proudly walking through the doors.

"And the very best of luck to the finest group of students Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ever had the pleasure of teaching." Dumbledore spread his arms. "And for those of you wondering ... No. I don't say that every year," he concluded, a twinkle in his eye.

The excruciatingly long ceremony had finally come to an end. Snape rose quickly, joining the rest of crowd as they were all filing out the room.

The trace must be lifted by now, he thought impatiently, scanning the room. He had lost sight of Hermione and her family.

She had looked miserable during the whole time, refusing to meet his eyes even once. I will make it up to her. All of it, he thought as he absently reached into his pocket.

Suddenly, Snape spotted Pansy Parkinson.

"Miss Parkinson," he called out. "A word."

Parkinson whirled around and broke out in a surprised grin. "Professor Snape!"

"I want to ..." Snape racked his brain for something, anything, to say. "Thank you for your formidable performance as Head Girl over the past week." He guided her into an empty classroom.

"Oh, it has been an absolute delight. I'm so glad I was given the opportunity," Pansy said, shooting Snape a sugary smile. "I've always thought of myself as a leader. Someone to rely on and look up to. I'm thinking of going into Midwizery, you know, and I believe my nurturing personality combined with my authoritative skills will make me rather successful in the field," she babbled.

Snape glanced at a big clock suspended in mid-air at the far end of the classroom. That must have been at least five minutes. And no sign of Dumbledore.

"And I can't even begin to thank you ... "

"Yes, yes," he interrupted. "Again, well done." I have to find Hermione.

He hurriedly made for the door, leaving Parkinson mid-sentence, with a confused and disappointed look on her face.

Most of the graduates and their relatives had ventured out into the sunny grounds, happily gulping down butterbeer and eating canapés handed out by a beaming Hagrid.

Snape immediately spotted Hermione in the crowd, chatting with Professor Flitwick, a serious look on her face. As soon as he got within ear-shot, he heard her say, "I'm sorry, Professor, but I think I need to visit the ladies' room." And then she slipped away.

After a second of hesitation, he decided to follow her, stationing himself outside the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Snape began to worry. Silently praying that Hermione was the only one inside, he grudgingly opened the door and peeked in.

She was standing in front of one of the mirrors, clutching the sink, taking deep breaths.

"Hermione?" he said, concerned.

Hermione snapped her head around and instantly turned a whiter shade of pale when she saw him.

"You," she whispered, eyes growing wide.

"Please," he said softly as he moved closer to her. "Just let me explain."

"No," she shook her head frantically. "You can't do this. Not now." She sloppily raked down her make-up from the sink into her purse and made towards the door, trying to squeeze past him.

Snape grasped her hand, forcing her to look at him. "I never meant to..." He stopped cold.

Confused, he opened up his palm and looked down on her hand. A thin gold band glimmered on her ring finger.

No.

Suddenly, all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears. He swallowed and then swallowed again. And again. But the lump in his throat remained.

"What ... is this?" he asked, knowing the answer full well.

Hermione yanked her hand away from his grip. "Christopher asked," she said shakily. "And I said yes."

Snape let his arms fall limply at his sides. "And you said yes," he repeated hollowly.

Hermione stared at him, eyes glistening with tears. Of anger or hurt, or maybe even happiness, he couldn't tell.

"Then I suppose congratulations are in order," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Thank you, that is ... most kind of you," she said, a few teardrops spilling over, trekking down her cheek. "And I guess I should be thanking you for ... for knocking some sense into me and forcing me to use my head rather than my ..." Hermione choked, unable to finish. She cast him one last glance and then walked out the door.

Leaving him with nothing but an unspoken word, in the midst of a lifetime of ashes.

Either Way I Lose – Gladys Knight and the Pips