Chapter 5

For A/N please refer to the A/N in Ch 1

Method in Madness

Chapter 5

As if Dumbledore could sense his presence, he sat up and dismissed Poppy. Severus sat next to him and said enviously in his silky voice, "So, you've your body again."

"Severus," began Dumbledore, stroking his beard. "You wouldn't be pleased to feel your limbs stiff from disuse. Your turn will come soon. If it will make you feel any better, I will tell you now that only I can see you."

"Indeed. And what does it do for me? What good is it? I should be in my office working, researching or conducting an experiment. You gave me the task of putting an end to Lupin's werewolf nonsense or did you forget?" sneered Severus testily.

"There is a time for everything, dear boy," muttered Dumbledore as he put his hand on the younger man's shoulders. "We've already lost half our young charges, we cannot to lose you as well."

Severus started for a brief moment before adopting a quiet air, "I thought we had almost lost you."

"Not yet – you and I will die on our terms not anyone else's, remember that. And do what you must, you have my blessing. Mind you, don't frighten anyone who might sense your presence."

"I had better check on Miss Granger then. The silly girl could be emptying my private stores as we speak," replied a weary Severus, drawing a twinkling smile from the indulgent old wizard.

Severus travelled down to his classroom and leaned on his old clerk's desk, trying to understand why he felt a knot in his stomach at Miss Granger's kindness. Insufferable know-it-all! He did not live off compassion. If he met it head on, it would likely kill him. Think rationally, he scolded himself. She was trying to be useful, just as he had when he served in the Order of the Phoenix. He had to find an equilibrium after the Dark Lord's insane and irrational plans of massive destruction. She was now seeking an equilibrium from which she would rebuild her life. She had a mind equal to his own and she dared to contradict him in her apprenticeship – that had won his respect. But now, that respect was tinged with something he was unfamiliar with. Before he could analyse the finer points of that emotion, he heard a loud gurgling and an incantation to banish the ineffective potion. He then saw Hermione enter the classroom from his office causing empty vials to shatter as she strode. She was clearly mentally exhausted. She was obviously in a temper and Severus shifted uncomfortably to his seat as she looked around the empty room before settling her eyes on his seat. It was as if she could see right through him and he waited to see what she would say. It in intrigued him to know that Gryffindors were capable of violent outbursts.

"Madness!" she screamed at him, or rather, at his seat. Another vial flung itself to the door before exploding.

"What am I doing wrong? Why can't I get it right? Incantation, incantation – the incantation must be modified and bound to one of the curses. He's said enough, he wrote it on the parchment!" Cauldrons clattered to the floor before being swept up to bang furiously on the walls. I know he's physically in the infirmary but he's somewhat here, I can feel him in my soul. Severus Snape, what are you doing to me?" she screeched as the cauldrons knocked over the books on his clerk's desk.

"Granger, you dunderhead, you've messed up his classroom!" she laughed hollowly, her veins throbbing on her temples. "Not the books!" She promptly bent down to pick up his books and stacked them neatly on his desk. "Stupid old girl! You've a headache and you've disrespected books. Poor books... Accio headache brew!"

The small potion vial zoomed straight into her outstretched hand. Severus noticed that she did this without the aid of her wand, he smiled inwardly – she was proving to be a most interesting student. He realised she couldn't continue to work in this state, he had to do something before she eliminated any trace of his office and chambers.

"You need sleep," said a silky carefully deliberate masculine voice in Hermione's head.

"Maybe I do," she laughed. "Scourgify. Reparo" And the room was clean and everything was in its place one more. "Now, I think I hear his voice. When Harry mentioned hearing voices, I thought he was crazy, and now, I know how he feels...I must be hallucinating. Dead friends, dead parents, dead cat, dead professors and the one thing I cannot have taking turns to haunt me!"

"Go on, little one. Go to bed," the voice whispered in her ear, caressing her cheek.

Seeing that it was the most sensible thing to do given her exhausted state, she plodded back to the office to retrieve her ward before heading off to her apartments. Severus followed, intent on seeing her to her chambers. She stopped at the rooms next to his and uttered her password, "Oubliette." He followed her in and watched her reset her wards.

Her chambers were neat and it struck him that it was decked in mourning colours of black, white and mauve. He settled on her mauve chaise lounge, watching her hang up her robes. So, the Gryffindor has forsaken the colours of red and gold. Her clothes, he could see, were predominantly black and grey; and he had to confess, the colours suited her well. Her curves now visible in her black Victorian day dress drew a lump in his throat. "Circa 1889. She dresses like mother," he thought, pained by the memory of the only woman who let him love her.

Hermione unbuttoned the top two buttons of her basque and lay down on a sofa.

"No," commanded the voice sharply, "to bed." She hastened to her bedroom, which like the rest of her apartments was overflowing with books neatly stacked on cabinets and shelves. Severus watched her smoothen her skirt and sat by her on bed, wanting to soothe away her frowns. He caught sight of two wizarding photographs on her left bed stand; one was a picture of her parents and the other was a picture of the golden trio. She waved sadly back at her parents and gently repressed a sob as the Ron in the photograph stuck out his tongue while Harry tried to flatten his hair. Severus found it telling that the Hermione in the photograph was still intently reading and only popped her head up once in a while to smile indulgently at her friends. He noticed that she had shifted to the right side of the bed and had steadied her breathing. The right bed stand carried a stack of books – that was not surprising; even Severus kept certain favourite books by his bed. His attention was caught by her unusual actions. Severus was entranced as he watched her lift a gilt silver photo frame, gently caressing the image. He was stunned to see his pale sallow image curling his lips contemptuously in a half dangerous, half self-deprecatory smirk with a scowl in his eyes. The image seemed to soften its eyes at Hermione but the smirk was firmly etched as it ran its fingers through its hair.

"Dear me," she whispered at the photograph. "I think I'm unhealthily obsessed with you, so much so that I'm seeing you in so many things. You know what you are and you don't hide it – that's wonderful. When will you see that you are not beyond redemption. You are kind in your own way. Perhaps when you're up and about I'll stop this nonsense. I'm your apprentice after all. Good day, love," she yawned, placing a kiss on the image's lips.

Severus kept his eye on the replaced photograph while unconsciously patting Hermione to sleep. How did she manage to acquire a photo? Why did it have a place of honour on her bed stand? He knew, of course, that the Hogwarts staff were obliged to have their photographs taken for the school's yearbook; it was entirely likely that she had asked for one. Or could she have cajoled one from that Creevey boy who was always flashing that obscene light at everyone of importance? The image matched him scowl for scowl and he left Hermione's bedside to sit at her writing desk. There were parchments of arithmancy calculations, formulas for potions to overcome the Unforgiveables and then, a draft of a paper caught his eye. It was a response to his last article in Ars Chemica in which he undertook to explain the possibilities of an advanced wolfsbane potion curing werewolves. Her draft suggested what ought to be added to ensure a longer shelf life and she challenged several presuppositions he had laid down. She even documented her notion of the sequence the additional ingredients with a full elucidation of its effectiveness and shortcomings. So, she had attempted the potion on dire wererats and they were cured. Interesting – it was promising. Writing a note, he placed it on her right bed stand and left her rooms for the sanctity of his office.