3. Lessons to Learn (Goblynn)

Chapter Three: Lessons to Learn

by Goblynn

A word from Goblynn: Fishie has decided to give me a temporary reprieve, so I was able to get this chapter down. *happy dance* Much as Zambi warned in the previous chapter, no humor here--no angst, either.

And for those keeping track, DADA_Mistress is up next!

He directed his broom into a sharp dive, the urgency born more of instinct than of necessity. There was no need to rush--her body hung motionless in midair, some thirty feet above the ground.

The broom slid past her, arcing beneath her form and rising back up beside it. The sight meeting his eyes caused a faint flush to gather in the cheeks of his face--tiny dots of pink darkening the otherwise ghostly pallor. Her clothing was frozen in place, another result of the spell, and the standard-issue robe was the lone article of modesty left to her.

The white blouse had ruffled up against her breasts, her skirt lifted by the same force of wind at her back as she fell. He could, quite clearly, make out the shape of her--precious little was left to his imagination, save what her knickers safely covered. The image of powder blue fabric against her fair skin was burned into a corner of his mind, and he ripped his eyes away, turning instead to her face.

She was not pallid; rather, her face retained its natural, healthy coloring. No blemish was visible, but he greatly expected even minor damage from the hearty bump to her crown.

Shaking his own head, he reached one hand out for her, taking hold of her upper arm. His grip unrelenting, he guided his broom to earth, dismounted, and banished the object to his cupboard. Easing her body to the ground, and a quick "Finite Incantatem," he further examined his charge.

No apparent injuries...he slid his fingers into her hair, probing her scalp...ah, there...a rather nasty bump. He parted the hair, casting "Lumos" to provide additional light. The knot wasn't as large as an egg, slightly reddish, and soft to the touch. Nothing suspicious, there--her unconsciousness was probably related directly to the pain of impacting her skull against stone. She did hit it quite hard, after all.

"Ennervate."

Her eyes fluttered open, one hand automatically going to her head. Blinking rapidly, she brought her gaze into focus. "Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. I'm certainly pleased to see your injury hasn't damaged your ability to state the obvious."

She glanced around, apparently confused by the darkness surrounding them. "What happened? How did I get down here?"

Snape sighed. "You were in the tower--spying on me, I suspect. When confronted, you struck your head upon the stones, lost your balance, then fell. As a professor of this school, it was my duty to save your interminably prying hide."

Easing herself up from her prone position, she turned her eyes to the ground. "I--thank you, sir." She paused, rubbing her head gingerly. "I was not spying, sir, I was merely looking at the sky when I saw you. Curiosity got the better of me and I was trying to see who might be flying of nights."

"Miss Granger," here he stood, "your curiosity will always get the best of you--an unfortunate habit you would do well to curtail." A hand appeared before her. With no small amount of hesitation, she clasped it in her own and permitted herself to be pulled upright, onto her feet. "Are you able to walk?"

She looked upward at the tower walls, shuddering at the height. "Yes, sir."

"Very well. I shall escort you, seeing as it is well past curfew."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He turned, briskly making his way to the entrance doors. She moved to follow, stumbled, caught herself, then jogged to catch up, falling in behind him. As they made their way to the moving staircase, she cleared her throat. "Professor, sir?"

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Should I go see Madam Pomfrey?"

He paused on the second landing. "Do you feel you should seek her assistance?"

"Erm...well, no, actually. I've bumped my head before--I was prone to falling down stairs as a child--and this doesn't seem terribly bad. It smarts, but I'm not feeling unusual or anything. I was fortunate."

He met her gaze, eyes searching hers for a moment. "You say it hurts?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape turned, going back down the stairs. Noticing she failed to follow, he motioned impatiently. "Come along, Miss Granger."

Hermione rushed back down, catching up with him at the next landing. "Where are we going, Professor?"

"To my office. I am loath to wake Madam Pomfrey over such a minor incident. I have the necessary potions available in storage."

She followed him down the last flight, then into the dungeons. Approaching his classroom, he stepped aside, indicating she should wait behind him, then unlocked the door and removed the wards. He stepped through, allowing her entrance before closing the door behind them.

There was very little light in the room, apart from what emanated from a few lamps hanging upon wall hooks. He pointed to a seat some distance from his desk. "Sit."

She immediately complied, waiting patiently as he entered the storeroom, returning a moment later with two phials clasped in his fist. He held both out to her, motioning that she take them from him. Once she had, he stepped back, watching her examine them in the low light. "The pink liquid is an anti-inflammatory--it will reduce the swelling. Use the other potion only as needed--there are approximately five doses in the phial--for pain. I suspect no severe damage from this occurrence; these should be sufficient for your care."

"I'm obliged, Professor." She uncorked the pink phial and tipped it back, allowing the liquid to flow across her tongue and down her throat. It tasted of bubblegum, and she sputtered. "That--(cough)--tastes terrible!"

"An unfortunate result of attempting to sweeten the potion."

Hermione glanced up at him. "But, sir--I mean--I thought you didn't try to alter the tastes of potions. Based on principle."

"I normally do not. That mixture was created at Poppy's insistence; upon tasting the sample however, she found it overly strong. 'I want it sweet, Professor, but not like it came from Honeydukes!' were her words, if I recall correctly. Rather than waste it, I've retained the batch for use elsewhere." He moved to his desk, seating himself. "I would prefer you remain here for a short while, Miss Granger, so that I may verify you are indeed suffering no ill effects."

"Certainly, sir."

"Excellent, Miss Granger." He adjusted a stack of parchments, moving them to another corner of the desktop. "Seeing as you have time to spare, perhaps you shall enlighten me as to the real reason for your presence in the Astronomy Tower." His eyes met hers again, the unwavering gaze causing her to shift uncertainly in her seat.

"I was looking at the sky, sir. As I have said."

"And I say you are foolish for thinking me capable of believing such a lie."

Hermione froze. What in heaven would cause him to presume anything? What does it matter what I was doing there? She blinked once, hard. "I was trying to study, sir."

"And Gryffindor Tower is unsuitable for such a pursuit?"

"I was seeking privacy, sir."

Snape's brow lifted in a smooth arch. Part of her groaned inside, knowing the meaning of that look: he was deciphering her real meaning. She awaited his response.

"You were hiding. From Potter and Weasley, I presume?"

A quick sigh escaped her lips. "Yes, Professor."

He nodded, apparently expecting further explanation. She offered none.

"Miss Granger, you have a few minutes yet before I release you. Shall we pass the time staring at one another, or shall you explain your actions?"

Hermione blinked again, slowly. "I was trying to get away from them because they were making fun of me."

"I should think you accustomed to such behavior."

Anger flared up in her gut. How dare he say that to me? He knows how I've been treated by Malfoy and his two lackwit thugs, but he accuses Harry and Ron of hurting my feelings? She ground her teeth. But they did hurt my feelings... "Harry and Ron don't mean anything by it, they were only trying to tease--they don't mean to hurt me."

"Yet they do." She didn't reply. "May I enquire, Miss Granger, as to the nature of their 'harmless jesting'?"

She could hear the inflection in his words, knowing he was quietly ripping at her defense of the two boys she called friends. "Flying brooms, sir. That I can't fly, I mean."

"The incomparable Hermione Granger is incapable of flying a broom? I find that difficult to believe."

"It's true, sir. It's the one thing--aside from Divination--I've not been able to master. They know it, and they rib me about it often." She hesitated. "And I was watching you, sir, from the tower. I didn't know it was you...I saw someone flying, and considering what Harry and Ron had said earlier, I couldn't help but watch. I'd crawled into that nook just before seeing you, so I could look down, and when you appeared from nowhere, I guess it startled me." Rubbing her crown again, she noticed the bump was all but gone. "I suppose that's how I hit my head." She finished her story and sat quietly, her hands tucked under the folds of her robes to ward off the chill, waiting for permission to leave.

The time passed more quickly than expected, and he rose from his chair, motioning for her to do the same. Moving to open the door, he spoke. "I shall escort you to the Tower, Miss Granger, as I had originally intended." She hurried to his side, waiting silently as he locked and warded his door, then fell in behind him as he led the way from the dungeons. On the fourth-floor landing, he broke the silence.

"Miss Granger, what prevents you from attempting to fly?"

Hermione's eyes bore into his back, watching the dark hair at his neck sway gently with the motion of his walking. "I--well--I'm afraid of brooms, Professor."

Snape cast a glance at her over his shoulder, his progress up the stairs never slowing. "Afraid of brooms? May I ask why that is?"

"Erm...they're rather small, sir, and seem terribly fragile. I feel like I'm going to lose my balance and slip off at any moment."

"Skill is not in the size of the broom, Miss Granger. It is in how one uses the equipment given them."

Hermione gaped a little--I know what he means, but it sounds as if he's talking in two tongues with a comment like that--and said nothing.

Snape paused on the seventh-floor landing. Before allowing her entrance to the corridor, and to the portrait of the Fat Lady, he turned again, one hand placed upon her elbow to halt her progress. "Miss Granger...given opportunity to learn flying--in a more private and secure fashion--would you consider trying your hand at it again?"

"I suppose so, Professor. I'd not given it any thought--there are no flying classes for upper-year students. Only first-years have lessons."

He grunted. "I don't mean 'classes,' Miss Granger."

She crinkled her forehead in confusion. "I'm sorry, sir--I'm not sure I understand."

He blew a breath out his nostrils, acting for all the world as if he were dealing with an imbecile. "Lessons, Miss Granger. Private flying lessons. I shall teach you, if you will consider it."

Had he struck her, she wouldn't have been more shocked. "Professor...why?"

Snape turned pitch-black eyes on her.

My God, I don't remember them looking like that before.

"Because flying is a pleasure only wizarding-folk are able to enjoy. As a Muggle-born, you should realize that more than anyone. Even your precious Potter." He snorted. "I would regret seeing a person of your potential and ability leave this place lacking a skill that provides more enjoyment than practical use."

Hermione paused, gathering her thoughts. He's offering to teach me to fly a broom. I don't see why he would say anything other than the truth...after all, we're alone up here. Maybe I should do it. He's right--I shouldn't graduate without being able to fly a broom, even a little. Yes, I will do it.

"I'd love for you to teach me, sir."

He nodded slowly. "We shall discuss it further, at a more opportune moment." He turned away from her then, entering the corridor. "Now is not that time."

They passed through the antechamber quickly, the Fat Lady eyeing them both askance, failing miserably at her attempt to seem uninterested in the pair before her. "Password?"

Professor Snape glared at the portrait. "Open up, you fool. This student has been injured, and I haven't the time nor the patience to deal with you tonight."

Offended, the portrait swung open with nary a word.

He gestured towards the opening. "Miss Granger, if you please."

She stepped through, hurrying to the common room. Finding only a handful of fourth-years practicing Transfiguration spells, she released a long breath. No need to fret over explaining her absence to Harry and Ron, at least not this night.

"Miss Granger? Your room?"

She nearly leapt from her skin. Spinning on her heel, she found herself toe-to-toe with Professor Snape. In the Gryffindor common room. A small voice in the back of her mind wondered that he didn't implode at the sight of so much red. "Sir?"

"Your room, Miss Granger. I must see to it that you reach your quarters safely."

The fourth-years in the corner were openly watching the conversation. Noticing Hermione's distraction, Snape's gaze wandered around the room, falling on the group. The hushed twittering silenced completely. He swung his eyes back to her. "Must I ask again, Miss Granger? or shall it be points from Gryffindor?"

Jerking to attention, she blushed and turned to the Head Girl's room access. Snatching her door open, she rushed inside, expecting him to remain safely distant in the Common Room, along with those irritating fourth-years. Again, her assumption was incorrect. He stood just inside her doorway, eyes following her every move as she dashed from bed to desk and back again, moving books from their scattered locations to her shelves. When the flurry of activity abated, he spoke again. "Miss Granger--please, sit."

She stopped, moving to a chair without question. Professor Snape approached her. "I trust you know well enough to keep the events of tonight to yourself?"

She nodded in reply.

"Excellent. Then I shall take my leave of you." He turned his back on her again, but paused in mid-stride, drawing himself up short and casting a guarded look at her. "Do see Madam Pomfrey if, for any reason, you feel oddly."

Hermione looked up at him, startled at his concern. His demeanor revealed no difference, but the edge in his voice had softened. Blinking, she replied softly, "Yes, sir. Thank you, again."

With a slight inclination of his head, he departed through her open door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That old wind that's whippin' out there

It's whistlin' your tune

That wind blew pyramids to Egypt

And footprints to the moon

And that old star that you been wishin' on

Is shinin' mighty bright

But it's the fire inside your heart

That's gonna lead you to the light

How you ever gonna know

What it's like to live there

How you ever gonna know victory

How you ever gonna know

What it's like when dreams become reality

How you ever gonna know

How it feels to hold her

How you ever gonna know

What it's like to dance

How you ever gonna know

If you never take a chance

You know failure isn't failure

If a lesson from it's learned

I guess love would not be love

Without a risk of being burned

Anything in life worth havin'

Lord, it has its sacrifice

But the gift that you're receiving

Is worth more than the price

How you ever gonna know

What it's like to live there

How you ever gonna know

What you never knew

How you ever gonna know

If you're down here doin'

What the good Lord put you here to do

How you ever gonna know

If you could have done it

How you ever gonna know

How it feels to fly

How you ever gonna know

If you never dare to try

Listen not to the critics

Who put their own dreams on the shelf

If you want to get the truth to admit it

You gotta find out for yourself

How you ever gonna know

What it's like to be there

How you ever gonna know

If you're the best

How you ever gonna know

What you believe in

If you don't put it to the test

How you ever gonna know

How it feels to hold him

How you ever gonna know

What livin' means

How you ever gonna know

If you never chase the dream

How you ever gonna know

Your potential

How you ever gonna know victory

How you ever gonna know

What it's like when dreams

Become reality

How you ever gonna know

How it feels to hold her

How you ever gonna know

What it's like to dance

How you ever gonna know

If you never take the chance

"How You Ever Gonna Know"--Garth Brooks