Fourteen

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Hermione idly tested the mobility of her fingers by trying to twirl the quill, but dropped it with a clatter on the desk in front of her. At least it didn't send ink splats over the heavy parchment she was reading through. Although her wand hand now had a considerably lighter bandage, she still had difficulty writing legibly for any length of time, and that frustrated her. Reading through the second-year Divination syllabus made her itch to write the lists of improvements needed...she could sail battleships through the number of holes in it. Adjusting her robes on her shoulders, Hermione looked about the deserted staff room. It was a funny place to find herself. She'd tried working in her beloved library, but was disappointed when the constant use of magic had made her head cave in with the pressure, so in the end, McGonagall set up a desk for her in the corner of the staff room.

Hermione enjoyed being able to observe the professors ebb and flow out of the room in the rhythm of the teaching timetable. Sometimes they would come in and moodily grab a cup of tea, slouch down in a chair and look dazedly into space. Other times they would come in and rant about the stupidity of the students or discuss a tricky question asked, and yet at other times there would be a whirlwind of witty repartee, which Hermione loved dearly but never participated in. And that really summed up the week she'd been here, wanting to enjoy it but invariably feeling uncomfortable, isolated and never able to join in. Of course, Hermione had a ton of reading to get through, and that made the days go by, but it was the lack of any social contact in a school full of people that wore her down and made her feel lonely. The professors avoided her at all costs. It hurt her when Professor Sprout and Professor Hooch almost fell over themselves to not be near her, and even Professor Flitwick could only manage a reserved hello without meeting her eyes. After the third day, Hermione gave up trying to be social; she couldn't stand seeing any more pained expressions on people's faces.

Harry and McGonagall were the golden exceptions to the rule. They both sought out her company whenever they could, but she understood they were both busy...Harry with his final submissions as well as his teaching and McGonagall with both Hogwarts and Order obligations. Hermione felt appreciative whenever they came over to chat with her, and it helped her self-confidence considerably that they seemed to actually enjoy her company. Harry had obviously allowed time in his busy schedule, and he met with her daily after class; it was a time Hermione looked forward to. He even wanted her to read through one of his drafts, which she happily did. She saw McGonagall a lot less, but when they did meet, the professor always asked her careful questions about the content of the current curriculum and seemed to listen attentively to her comments.

Hermione had only seen Snape once since returning to Hogwarts. They passed each other in the corridor on her second day back, but he didn't alter his quick pace and only curtly nodded at her...without meeting her eyes. Over the following few days, she had expected some form of contact, but as the days wore on, the witch realized sadly that he had no intentions of getting in touch with her. Hermione lectured herself strongly that Snape had merely done what McGonagall had asked him to do, and now that he had met his obligations, he wanted no more to do with her. However, she slowly started to feel resentment towards Snape. He knew the urgency needed in decoding her visions and the high level of trust she had placed in him. So for him not to contact to her, even if it was just to talk about the visions and nothing else, was truly bad form.

Other than that one incident, Hermione never saw him anywhere...not even in the staff room. She did, however, hear a lot about Snape. He seemed to be the subject of a lot of hushed conversations everywhere. Hermione was shocked by the palpable hatred and fear directed at him...it had certainly gone up a dozen notches since she was a student. She was sure it was only the iron hand of McGonagall that kept it all in check. Virtually everyone at Hogwarts still believed Snape had killed Dumbledore for Voldemort and that he should have had the Kiss. But it was the younger professors led by Harry, especially, that were the most vocal and bloodthirsty. The older professors kept strangely silent whenever it was being discussed.

Actually, to say Hermione had no contact with Snape was incorrect. Each morning, a sweating house-elf delivered a basket of food to her. Hermione was positive with all the muttering the elf was doing that it was swearing at her because it had to physically climb the stairs rather than just pop in and out by magic. The moment she saw the type of food in the basket, she knew it was Snape who had prepared it. Cheeses, pickles, unleavened bread, dried figs, apples, preserved meat and bottles of untainted water, enough for three meals and everything meticulously presented. The quality of the food also confirmed what she already knew from eating the fish he'd cooked in the shed. The combined knowledge of potions and cooking had produced a talented chef in Snape. Luckily, Hermione wasn't required to sit at the teachers' table for meals and was able to savor the food in her small room.

Hermione felt her head starting to thump, so she adjusted the black pointed hat more securely. The clothes Snape had provided were perfect for the chilly Hogwarts environment and obviously worked at keeping its oppressive heaviness at bay, even if they didn't allow her to project any femininity. She really did feel like a mini Snape when she walked down the corridors with her cloak flapping and people moving sharply out of her way. The young witch avoided looking at herself in the mirror as well because when she did catch glances at herself, she was horrified at how pale and thin she had become. Her injuries really had taken a toll on her body.

Hermione startled when Harry came bounding into the room, looking resplendent in his maroon dress robes.

'Are you ready, Hermione?' But when he saw the look on her face, he added with mock ferocity, 'You're not getting out of it, so don't even attempt it.'

Hermione groaned. She'd really hoped nobody would notice that she wasn't there. Tonight was the annual Halloween Ball, and for the entire week, Hogwarts had been abuzz with excitement about it. Now, normally, Hermione would usually have been up for any type of festivity, but the combination of the head splitting pressure from the magic and the feeling of complete social isolation meant she was rather disinclined to stand around watching everybody else having fun.

'I don't have anything to wear,' Hermione feebly protested as Harry pulled her up by her arm and dragged her out the door.

'Sorry, that doesn't cut it as an excuse. Everybody has to be there...that's what McGonagall stipulated, so that means you too.' He gave her the once over and smirked. 'You look fine if a bit masculine. Now come on...otherwise we're going to be late.'

When they entered the Great Hall, Hermione's jaw dropped at how breathtakingly spectacular it looked. 'Wow, it looks wonderful.'

'Yeah, Professor Flitwick improves every year in his decorating.' Harry kept a firm grip on her arm and marched her through the students nervously milling about in their finery, up to the teachers' table and sat her down. 'I'll get us a drink, and don't you move.'

Hermione politely nodded her hellos to Professor Sinistra on one side of her and sighed when the woman nervously edged her chair away from her and avoided meeting her eye. That's a great start to the evening, the young woman thought despondently. It was such a stark contrast to how she was normally treated when she went to festivals in the South. Oh, well, Hermione mentally shrugged; Harry wanted her to be here, which made her feel nice. Looking at all the beautiful dress robes, she quietly assured herself that at least there was a certain formality about her clothes that made up for their lack of finery and femininity. They were what someone would call a classical style, and at least with her hat, she didn't have to worry about the tangled knots also known as her hair. There were still certain movements that caused her chest wound to hurt, and unfortunately brushing her hair was one of them. She glanced along the teachers' table and saw McGonagall talking animatedly to Flitwick and then spotted Snape sitting by himself at the other end of the table. Hermione felt a flash of anger at him. While she knew he was busy with teaching, it didn't mean he had to have no contact with at her at all. The band started up, and Hermione smiled when she saw the excitement it caused the students. What it would be like to be back again as a student, she wondered.

'Here you are.' Harry handed her a mug of butterbeer and sat down next to her. 'Can you feel the amped up vibes of all these hormonal teenagers?'

'I sure can. It makes me feel so old.' Hermione smiled, shaking her head as they watched a group of beautiful, young witches giggling and casting coy glances over at a cluster of young wizards nearby. 'Were we ever that young?'

'It's hard to believe, isn't it?' Harry said and then smiled at a young witch waving to him.

'Where's Ginny? Is she coming tonight?' Hermione asked after taking a sip of butterbeer, frowning at the metallic taste.

'She's having to work late, but hopefully she'll pop in a bit later.'

The band started a catchy tune, and the students flooded the dance floor. Hermione was hot under all her layers, but knew that under no circumstances could she even push up the sleeves of her robes. She didn't want to empty the Great Hall in minutes...although that was one way to get Snape to notice her, she sniggered to herself.

'Come on.' Harry leaped up, pulling her up by her hand. 'We can't sit and be boring...we're not that old yet.'

Laughing, she allowed herself to be dragged onto the dance floor, feeling the teachers' and students' eyes on them. Too bad, Hermione thought; she liked dancing, and besides, she and Harry always danced well together. Feeling the beat, she looked up at Harry, and they smiled happily at each other when their bodies automatically moved so beautifully with each other. When the song drew to the end, she said breathlessly, 'That was the most fun I've had in ages.'

'See, I was right making you come here.' Harry grinned in return. They were walking back to their seats when a beautiful, dark student witch interrupted them hesitantly and asked if Harry would like to dance with her. Hermione smiled at the blush on the girl's cheeks and saw the girl's friends giggling from a distance. Harry grinned and shrugged his shoulders. 'You don't mind, do you, Hermione?'

'No, of course not, Harry. Go for it,' encouraged Hermione, feeling sweaty under her copious black layers.

Harry turned and smiled brilliantly at the young witch. 'Shall we?' he said and led her back onto the dance floor. Hermione swore the dark haired witch almost swooned with delight.

Hermione sat back down again and sipped her butterbeer, trying to cool down. Professor Sinistra quickly moved away from her and struck up a conversation with Professor Hooch further down the table.

'Hello, Hermione, I'm so pleased you could make it,' said Professor McGonagall, walking quickly up to her with a glass in her hand. 'I saw you dancing with Harry. You both made a fine sight.'

'Thank you, Headmistress. It was fun dancing with Harry again,' replied Hermione warmly. 'The Hall looks so beautiful, and I love seeing the students dressed up so elegantly.'

The Professor looked over the Great Hall proprietarily. 'Yes, it is a beautiful sight.' Then something caught her attention. 'Now, if you could excuse me, I need to have a word with Professor Sprout about the alcoholic content of that punch.'

Hermione resumed sipping her butterbeer and looking idly out at the Great Hall. She felt her face become pinched with disapproval at the decadence of using magic to float pumpkins above the dance floor. What an overindulgence to use magic like that. No wonder their society was out of balance. Her eyes ran down the familiar, huge house banners that hung majestically down the sides of the hall. It was funny, she thought; she had never seen them before as Southern symbolism, but they most definitely were. Gryffindor was fire; Ravenclaw was air; Hufflepuff was earth, and Slytherin was water. It was so blindingly obvious now that she'd made the connection, and the witch admired how each house symbol was so masterfully done. The founders of Hogwarts must have been conversant in Southern magic for them to adopt such strong symbols, and perhaps it had happened when things were more harmonious between the two communities all those centuries ago.

The music stopped, so Hermione looked over and saw that another young witch had asked Harry to dance the next song with her. He really was popular, she thought, but then again, she wasn't surprised. After watching him for a week, he really did have an almost pop star charisma about him, which he was cutely unconscious of. Finishing off her butterbeer and without anything else to do or anyone to chat to, she decided to slowly wander over and get herself another drink. As she worked her way across the crowded room to the drink table, Hermione found that the people quickly parted for her, and she was given many sharp sideways glances. Frowning, Hermione poured herself another glass of butterbeer and quickly smoothed her forehead; a surly look would hardly help matters. She glanced about and saw Snape standing alone, strict and imposing, near the teachers' table.

Without anyone else to talk to, Hermione started walking over to him and was mortified when he started moving away from her. He must have seen her; he was the most observant man she had ever met. Why didn't he want to be seen with her?, thought Hermione angrily, and she charged right over and caught up to him.

'Good evening, Professor Snape,' she greeted, looking up at him angrily.

Snape looked coolly down at her and nodded his head. 'Miss Granger,' he acknowledged.

Hermione couldn't believe it when he went to move again. Outraged, Hermione grabbed his arm and asked, 'Have I done something, sir, to upset you? Why don't you want to talk to me?'

Snape paused, and his eyes flicked about to make sure nobody was observing them before looking down at her with an odd expression. 'It is for the best, Miss Granger.'

'What?' Hermione frowned...she hadn't expected a reply like that.

'Believe me, Miss Granger...you will thank me for it,' Snape added more softly.

Hermione felt truly hurt...as odd as it was, she had missed Snape's presence this last week. 'But why?' she asked miserably; she didn't want to be shunned by anyone else.

Snape looked down at her steadily for a moment, then sighed. 'Come, Miss Granger. Let us walk.'

He guided her out of the Great Hall and into the gardens. The beat of the music drifted about in the still night air along with squeals of delight and peels of laughter. Hermione liked the cold air on her face after the heat of the Great Hall. They passed several amorous couples who quickly parted and disappeared when they saw Snape coming. Hermione looked up and saw the almost full moon hanging huge in the cold sky. It cast a silvery light over the hedges and the gardens. Snape guided her to a garden bench near the fountain and sat down next to her. There was a gentle sound of trickling water coming from the fountain.

'So, why, sir?' Hermione asked softly again, looking down at her hands.

Snape sighed heavily again and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face. 'I thought, my lady, it would be best for your integration into Hogwarts if I kept my distance from you. You may need to be here for some time,' he replied in the ancient tongue.

Hermione was pleased that he was talking to her in the ancient tongue but was horrified at what he was saying. 'For your information, my teacher, it probably hasn't made a blind bit of difference. I'm hardly what you call a social success here either. If it wasn't for Harry and McGonagall, I doubt I would have spoken or been spoken to this entire time.' The witch felt her temper rising. 'I absolutely hate it here. I hate how everyone avoids me. I hate how they can't even look at me without a disgusted look on their faces. I hate that they can't do a single thing without resorting to magic. I hate how nobody wants to even talk to me...including you, my teacher.' Then her anger vanished instantly, and she was left with only a deep sadness.

Snape shifted uneasily next to her, and Hermione looked up at his silhouetted profile...he really did have a large, hooked nose. 'Any association you have with me will only further isolate you. I know by experience that it has a potential to become a lot more hostile for you. You could possibly lose your friendship with Mr. Potter by openly associating with me,' he explained softly in his deep voice.

Hermione paused, fully understanding now that Snape, by keeping his distance, was putting her welfare first. Then her ire rose again. 'I do appreciate it...I really do...and I understand now why you stayed away from me, my teacher, but I don't agree with it. I don't...it isn't right. I don't care what they think nor what they do.'

She heard him chuckle softly. 'Always a Gryffindor...more loyalty and bravery than brains.'

Hermione carried on indignantly, ignoring that snide comment. 'But it's wrong, my teacher, completely wrong. What right have they got to tell me who can and can't be my friends? Who are they to judge? And you are my friend, so they will just have to wear it.'

Snape turned and looked quizzically down at her; he was completely still for a moment.

'It's true, my teacher.' She then stopped for a bit and added reflectively, 'And I do consider you my friend, so it is right for me call you that...if it is agreeable to you.'

Changing titles meant that their entire syntax would change from formal to familiar. It was a shift that was never done lightly.

Hermione felt Snape's warm hands encircle hers. 'I would be most agreeable, my lady.'

Hermione smiled at him, trying out the new title. 'Good. I am pleased as well, my friend.' A soft breeze picked up, and Hermione sat back on the bench and felt a wave of homesickness flow through her. 'How I want to go home. Everybody will be busy preparing for the feasts now...it's always so much fun.'

Snape looked up at the almost full moon. 'I would be honoured, my lady, if you could celebrate it with me. It would be a serious breech for me not to honour you and yours on this most holy night.' He then glanced wryly at her. 'And I would also like your company as a friend. I have not celebrated the Nine Nights for a very long time.'

'I and mine accept the invitation for the feast of the Nine Night.' Hermione then added with a grin, 'My friend.'

'Good.' Snape sighed, releasing her hands, and sat back comfortably on the bench, their shoulders touching, and he looked over the moonlit paths. 'I've been thinking about your visions, my lady.'

Hermione was instantly alert. She had yet to make any sense of them, and they continued nag at her, but so far to no avail.

Snape continued in his deep voice. 'I do believe they are, as you surmised, about the Dark Lord. Then I thought about what you said about him seeing things primarily as elements. I applied that to your visions, and the common element in both your visions is water. The Dark Lord is represented by water.'

'Wow,' Hermione said with awe. It always seemed so obvious once something was worked out.

'It also makes sense from what I know as well. He is completely correct to represent the Dark Lord as water...it really is his element.'

Hermione noted it was the first time Snape even mentioned his association with Voldemort.

'There is something about how the water and Mr. Potter interact that might tell us more, but I am still not clear on it,' Snape mused out loud.

'The first dream was about a very young Harry at the beach. He didn't like the water, so I picked him up and held him. He then said the water took his mother away.'

'I suppose if we concentrate on Mr. Potter, we might come up with something. How do you think he felt?'

'Harry was petrified of the water; he was trembling in my arms.'

'But why?'

'Because the water took his mother away.'

'That could be it. Mr. Potter is petrified of the Dark Lord because the Dark Lord killed his mother.'

'That makes sense. Harry saw Voldemort kill his mother, and even if he can't remember it now, part of him saw and understood what happened that day. It's bound to have a traumatic affect on him.' She then added, 'And Harry was unable to move away from the water or do anything. I had to pick him up.'

'He was so fearful that he was unable to move. This makes sense if we apply it. Because of his deep-seated fear of the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter is unable to move or act against him.'

'And it was just gentle lapping waves...nothing awful at all in comparison to the other vision. So I suppose you could interpret that as meaning the fear in Harry's head is worse than Voldemort himself.... That's a crazy thought.'

'But Mr. Potter is a powerful wizard,' said Snape honestly. 'It could be true that he is destined to battle with the Dark Lord after all. And if Mr. Potter could overcome his fear, there is every chance that he'll succeed.'

They both sat there in stunned silence at their revelations.

'It was you who picked him up, my lady. What did he do after you lifted him up?' Snape asked quietly.

'He relaxed straight away.'

'I would say that you have a role to play in what is to unfold, my lady. It was you who took his fears away.'

'But how?' questioned Hermione, tucking a stray lock under her hat.

'I don't know, my lady,' admitted Snape, shrugging his shoulders.

'What do you think about the other vision?'

'I think we have worked out a pattern here. So from what you told me, and from what I can remember, all of your second vision was in Hogwarts.'

'Yes, that's right. The whole of Hogwarts was flooded. I thought it was the plumbing.'

'What does Hogwarts mean to you, my lady?' Snape turned and gazed down at her.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes warily. 'I'm not sure. I used to love it when I was a student, but now I don't know. I can now see that there are certain inherent problems in the place that I never saw when I was a student. These problem, I suppose, are the same in the wider wizarding community.'

'Could we say that Hogwarts is a symbol of the wizarding community to you?' he conjectured.

Slowly Hermione nodded her head. 'That sounds right. For a long time, Hogwarts was all I knew of wizarding society. It was how I was introduced to it after all. So Hogwarts represents wizarding society...yes, that's right.'

Snape drummed his long fingers on his knee in thought. 'But the way the Dark Lord was represented in this vision is so different from the gentle waves.'

'That's it!' exclaimed Hermione. 'How can water destroy? By flooding and rotting. Voldemort is destroying the wizarding society by overwhelming it with his strength...he is flooding it.'

Snape added quietly, 'The Dark Lord is purposely keeping Mr. Potter weak by rotting him so that he is ineffectual and his strength isn't recognized.'

'His rotten hand...yes. Because if Harry's power is recognized, he would be able to destroy Voldemort easily...and Voldemort knows it,' finished Hermione.

They both sat there in stunned silence, processing their conclusions. Pulsing music and raucous laughter wafted through the trees towards them; it sounded like the ball was at its zenith. Then Snape stretched his legs and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in them. 'We now have to work out how to allay Mr. Potter's fears of the Dark Lord...that is the next logical step before we can think how to strengthen him. This will require some thought.'

Hermione tried holding back a snort of amusement at the thought of Snape having to consider Harry's fears.

Snape must have known what she was thinking, however, as he dryly pointed out, ' I do see the irony of this situation, my lady.'

She glanced up at him and was surprised to see a smile playing on his lips. He was able to mock himself...wonders never cease, she thought.

'I am so pleased I was able to discuss this with you, my friend. You are as strong as any circle. Why were you not searched out? It seems very strange to me...you have such natural power, and you would be sorely needed. It's like I have discovered gold, finding you here.'

'It wasn't meant to be, my lady,' muttered Snape quietly, and he dropped his eyes from her.

'I didn't mean to pry. I wasn't questioning you, but rather I was complimenting you. I do believe I was fated to meet you and your hidden talent,' she quickly assured, knowing she'd unexpectedly hit a sore point.

Snape nodded in acknowledgement of her clarification and compliment. 'I am pleased I was where I was so we could meet. I am also pleased that I am able to help you and yours.' And then he added in far softer tones, 'However, I will continue to have nothing to do with you while you are at Hogwarts. You do not want to have any known associations with me. It would make life difficult for you.'

Hermione nodded, recognizing the truth in what he was saying. 'I understand, even if I don't agree. But I am happier knowing the reason why we will not meet. My imagination was getting away on me. I thought I had offended you somehow or that you were like everybody else and found me repulsive too.'

Snape abruptly turned to her. 'That was never the case, my lady. You could never be repulsive to me.' He straightened quickly...almost pulling himself into check. 'I should be returning to the ball...otherwise the Headmistress might notice my absence. I need to be there for my Slytherins. I will escort you back.'

Hermione nodded, standing up. Snape held out an arm, and she slipped her arm through his.