Chapter 4 - Considering the Facts

Beyond Time and Space

Chapter 4 – Considering the Facts

If Severus was furious with Hermione for presuming to act as Potions Mistress in his class, he did not show it. He was more livid with Dumbledore for ordering him out of his classroom like a common house elf and giving the chit of a girl the permission to teach a field that was his providence. Dumbledore made no attempt at conversation as they strolled back to his office. "It is just as well," thought Severus, still greatly piqued. He would have won the battle of wits against the insufferable know-it-all if Dumbledore had not arrived. Severus felt certain that he would have successfully wrested his authority in the Potions classroom back from Hermione if their argument continued. Although he was uncertain as to whether she would have allowed him to throw her out, he entertained no doubt at all that the girl was an excellent alchemist. She had been his best student; she had matched him word for word in their sparring incident and he had a distinct feeling that had the argument been more protracted, their volatile tempers would have gotten the better of them.

Unable to bear the older wizard's silence any longer, Severus asked his sighing companion, "What is all this nonsense about my demise?"

"Ah," began Dumbledore cautiously as he ushered the former Potions Master into his office. "You have technically speaking 'passed on'. Your body is in the crypt with the others."

"One would have thought that charlatan Trelawney would have had the sense to cower away from the prospect of battle," Severus snorted.

The older wizard shook his head. "Never doubt the Hupplepuffs' loyalty. She saved Aberforth at one point. And she was rather good at unusual hexes, you know, just as you are good at the dark arts."

"It is not an amusing joke, Headmaster," answered the frowning younger figure. Sitting opposite Dumbledore, Severus noticed the portraits of the other past headmasters and headmistresses peering at him with one open eye amidst their snores. "I am here, am I not? Then why am I supposedly dead? When I get the fool...POTTER! He must be the royal idiot perpetuating this myth of his invincibility vis-à-vis the former Death Eater's dubious loyalty to the Order!"

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth, slowly playing with it as he struggled to find a way to show Severus the truth. "Harry is still at St Mungo's; he has become a little nervous. Too many knocks to the head, I suspect. You were gravely wounded, don't you remember?"

Severus folded his arms firmly, sinking deeper into the armchair. "The effects of the dark mark and the cruciatus are insect bites compared to the excruciating pain...Look, old man! I tire of your games. I have withstood worse sensations than multiple cruciatus curses. I have been at the brink of life in my flirtation with Death more times than you can count. Hasn't it occurred to you not to doubt my abilities at self-preservation?"

"I have never doubted you on that account, my boy," sighed Dumbledore, "I doubted your will to live. You have tried to take your life at several junctures."

"Which you prevented," reminded Severus quietly, "Do you know it takes a lot more than a mad man's spells to kill me?"

"And yet," whispered Dumbledore tiredly, his voice thick with emotion. "You did not choose to hold on to life when we brought you back."

"Utter nonsense!" Severus exclaimed, silencing the snoring portraits. "I am still here, stalking the corridors and terrorising the students. If anything," he added smoothly. "My actions at the battle have enhanced my 'fearsome' reputation among the students."

"By Merlin! Severus! The students fainted! You are an ethereal being; your body lies in the crypt on the third floor," reasoned the Headmaster, gently shaking his head with patient understanding. "For a week, we tried to save you. There was nothing St Mungo's could do for you. It seemed," choked the old man, "You had lost your will to continue with us. Minerva, Hermione and I watched you slip away quietly without a convulsion. You didn't make an effort..."

"Forgive me, Headmaster, but I believe you have had too much sugar in your system. It seems to be wrecking your logic," said Severus coolly drumming his gingers on his arms. "Perhaps you have forgotten that I put up a fight to almost anything?"

"I believed that you had found peace at last; that you were letting go...I was sad but ultimately happy for you. And now...you're here – a ghost at Hogwarts as caustic and truculent as ever." Dumbledore dabbled his eyes with the hem of his left sleeve with a weak lopsided smile. "What unfinished business brings you back, my boy? "

Severus harrumphed with indignation. "My lecturing contract with Hogwarts has yet to lapse, sir. Which brings me to my point." He paused, clearly entertained by the older wizard wiping away his tears. The sentimental old goat, he thought. He offered a half smirk to the Headmaster and softened his tone, "My point being the fact that I was not duly informed as to the cancellation of the staff meeting. Surely, even an insignificant speck such as myself is capable of inspiring a modicum of something akin to mutual respect amongst my peers."

"You don't understand, my boy..."

"What don't I understand!" shouted Severus, losing his temper. "I know now that a lowly personage such as myself is inconsequential enough to be forgotten!"

"You are dead, my boy. Severus, listen to me! That's why I gave Hermione the Potions and Arithmancy seats."

"What!" he bellowed, turning paler with rage. "To think that I trusted you! Give me another good reason to hate you and I will deliver a stinging hex to your weak knees!"

Dumbledore eyed the younger figure's ghostly wand at his chest with calm and silenced his worried phoenix with a look. "Have you noticed that you cannot breathe?" he asked, lightly brushing aside the ethereal wand. He froze for a moment realising that he could feel the spectre.

"Really? Then how do you account for my ability to sit in this chair without going through it?" questioned Severus in an ominously quiet voice. "I can detect your scent and I know you had Cadbury twirls this morning."

"You've always been a potent sort, Severus. You have a great deal of will power and grit. If you so will it, you can experience the senses as we mortals do. Do come to your senses and realise that you can control your otherworldly body as you once did your physical one. Hermione must have walked through you today; otherwise she wouldn't have looked so numb and cold. Yes," said Dumbledore thoughtfully stroking his beard. "It would account for the students' panic as well."

"You persist in believing that I am dead and not really before you?" challenged the exasperated figure, masking his infuriation behind incredulity.

"I know you're dead and I know your ghostly form is here. Why don't you go to crypt? Have a look and come back here to talk about it," Dumbledore offered kindly, a tear trickling down his hooked nose.

Severus stared at that glittering bead as it fell onto the desk, surprised to see more joining it when he looked into Dumbledore's eyes. "I see there is no talking to you in this vein. Are my chambers still mine?"

"In essence, they are, though they are physically Hermione's now."

"Good," the figure said, turning away from the teary Headmaster. "When you are better able to converse, you know where I'll be."

Dumbledore remained looking intently at the door long after his companion had left. Then he mumbled the strangled cry of dismay and unspoken affection, "Severus, my prodigal son, when will you learn to see your heart and mind? My poor boy..."

* * *

The solitary figure hunched over the escritoire groaned in frustration. The sixth year students were utterly impossible. How they made it to Advanced Potions, Hermione did not know. She looked disdainfully at the parchments before her – all of them covered with blotches of inaccuracies and half-baked observations. Nearly every inch of the parchment was invaded by her compact red scrawls denouncing their originators' hypotheses while questioning their abilities. As she put aside the last parchment, she frowned. The day's events have proven to her that at least half her incompetent students must have bribed their way through OWLs to be in her advanced potions seminar. She viewed them as ineffectual dunderheads with short attention spans. If they were entered into a clumsiness contest against Tonks, she was positive that Tonks' crown would be relinquished to Mr Lennox. Mr Lennox was worse than Neville Longbottom, if that was possible. However, if Neville could make it as an Auror, there may be hope for Mr Lennox yet. Sipping the dregs of her tea, she wondered how Severus tolerated such idiocy in his lessons.

Hermione spat the tea into the saucer – it was cold. It could only mean that she had been holed up longer than she had anticipated. "Bloody Potions' Sixth Years!" she cursed under her breath, ringing the house elves for hot tea. Her students were inexcusably atrocious! Their work was the cause of her cold tea! Their inaptitude, stupidity, silence and unwillingness to learn caused this! They had made her do something she had never done – they made her lose track of time! At least, her arithmancy lessons were somewhat more fulfilling than her potions class. The students there did not blindly parade their ignorance. The arithmancy students bothered to read up before class; they bothered to raise questions and answer her quizzes. Hermione sniffed indignantly at the comparison – now more than ever, she wondered whether the potions chair was cursed to suffer the ignominy of facing imbeciles. Now wonder Severus was always disagreeable! He faced these unsophisticated, unappreciative, wilfully unenlightened oafs all day. Noticing the hot tea in her newly replenished teapot, she set about pouring herself a cup of the calming elixir when Dumbledore interrupted her by floo.

"Not occupied are you, my dear?" the Headmaster asked with a twinkling smile.

She twitched her tired face into a grimace. "What does it seem like I'm doing?"

"We need to chat about Severus, Hermione," Dumbledore began.

"I still have fifteen minutes," she answered brusquely. "Unless, you think my memory is as faulty as Professor Snape's."

"No, I have no doubt that you are aware of our meeting," he chuckled at Hermione's Snapesque reply. "Would you mind popping into my office now? I plan to make an announcement at dinner, but to do that, I require your permission."

"My permission?" she snorted contemptuously before stepping through the floo network to Dumbledore's office. "Consensus is now de rigueur among Hogwarts' staff? I am all astonishment! Be plain with me, what do you want Headmaster?"

"Whatever gave you that idea, my dear? I am not a Supreme High Inquisitor. Sherbet lemon?" he chuckled, popping a sweet into his mouth.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. He had no business spoiling his appetite like that before dinner, Hermione thought, narrowing her eyes. "If this is about the disorder in my class today, I apologise. It will not happen again."

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement as he gestured her to sit, resolutely pushing the bag of sweets in front of her. "As a matter of fact, that's why I need your permission. I know it can be trying to cope with the workload of two subjects. Would you mind letting Severus have his potions..."

"Are you questioning my capability or my integrity as an educator?" she interrupted, her voice dripping with vitriol. "I have dealt with worse."

"No, no, my dear," Dumbledore offered quickly. "It would help Severus adjust if he were to do so something he is most proficient at."

"He doesn't have to teach to accomplish anything. He has only to scowl and all will be well," she spat after a hollow laugh.

"What if he co-taught your Potions lessons – he has the first to fifth years and the rest are yours. The salaries of both seats are still yours," he said quickly to placate her.

Hermione tapped her fingers in studied carelessness on Dumbledore's desk, her eyes glazed in thought. "If I agree to return his lessons to him – what will it do for him?"

"He thinks he's alive."

"As does Professor Binns," she replied evenly.

"I want you to help him," Dumbledore said shakily.

"Help him? What do you mean help him?" she asked lowly, folding her arms defensively. She was clearly affronted by the suggestion.

"Help him apprehend the truth; help him grieve."

"Grieve?" she laughed disdainfully before challenging, "What if I refuse?"

"Then you will not receive your potions salary and you will no longer have your quarters."

"This is entrapment, Professor Dumbledore," she hissed. "Very well, let us say I help him – what is expected of me?"

Dumbledore chuckled awkwardly as he answered, "He has to come to terms with his death. You should gently point him in the right direction. Be kind to him, the fellow is dead after all."

"How can I be civil when he is...a disagreeable Kappa!"

"Just be kind. He'll come around eventually. That's why I want you both in potions; you're an intelligent witch, Hermione; you've always known that quiet kindness is more effective than heated disputes. Be gentle with him."

"Gentle? With kid gloves? When...Oh! When I just want to smack him with a wet fish!" she declared with great exasperation.

Dumbledore choked on his chortle at seeing Hermione's basilisk-like glare. Offering her his arm, he said in a voice that matched the smile dancing in his eyes. "Thank you, my dear. Shall we hie to the Great Hall then?"

Hermione nodded her assent, mentally kicking herself for being so easily cajoled.