The Potion Prince's Petty Payback

This is a story by the great Marisol, a German FF writer whose stories can be found at http://www.harrypotter-xperts.de/fanfiction?author=17037

Translated from German into English by Muggline

Disclaimer: Neither Marisol nor Muggline are making any money out of this. Everything you recognise belongs to J.K.Rowling.

A/N: --,--´ @ (this is supposed to be a single rose for ladyinthecloak, our beta reader)

Chapter 8 - The Potion Prince's Petty Payback

A/N: Sorry for the silly title – I just couldn't resist...

"It is over! Lay him down at my feet where he belongs!" Voldemort's cold, hissing voice could be heard over the throng of fighting people while Hagrid slowly lowered Harry's lifeless body to the ground. Somebody let out a piercing cry, a tormented, shrill sound that cut the dusty air like the crack of a whip.

Hermione did not know that she had been the one to cry out. Neither did she remember that she had sunken to her knees with the world blurring before her eyes. Only Harry's body had been cruelly clear and focused then, and she recalled that the view had numbed her soul.

Desperately, she kept fighting to void herself of all emotions and close her mind. But the more she exerted herself, the more she became aware of Snape's presence. He still had her shoulders in a vice grip. She tried to concentrate and think of something insignificant – of Crookshanks or the book she had last read. However, it was like trying to catch fog with bare hands.

She stood alone in the primary school yard and observed the girls from her class. Without any doubt, they were talking about Monica's upcoming birthday party. Sure enough, Monica would invite her before the bell rang. She had made a big announcement and said that she wanted to celebrate her ninth birthday with the whole class, after all. Hermione tried to put up a friendly smile when the little group started moving, but the girls passed her by as if she were invisible. She was quite sure she had heard the words 'silly swot'.

Long forgotten thoughts kept swirling through her head, and she knew that Snape saw everything she saw, sensed everything she felt. She wanted to beg him to stop, but she was unable to produce any sound.

She was sitting on Ron's lap while he played with her hair. Giggling, she heard him say, 'I cannot believe that Ginny is pregnant! My little sister... how could that happen?'

His expression changed and she saw that he was hurt. But it also hurt her that she could not simply take his hand and tell him that she also wanted that. It would have been a lie and therefore she could not.

Hermione whimpered, but she had given up trying to push Snape away. Instead, she tried to remember what she knew of Harry's Occlumency lessons back in fifth year. Breathe calmly, she told herself. Think of clouds... snow... the night sky. For a small moment she thought that she might succeed, but then she felt Snape's breath on her ear and smelled the unfamiliar scent of his skin.

'I cannot go on like this, Hermione. It breaks me to pieces,' Ron said with a sad voice that broke her heart.

She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that she would cut down on her job. At the same time she knew that she could not do that. 'Please don't go,' she whispered helplessly, and she kept repeating those words long after he had gone when she was sitting alone on the floor of her flat, with her arms around her knees and tears running down her cheeks in an endless stream.

She perceived Snape's eyes through some kind of mist, only inches away from her face. Black depths, impenetrable like the night.

'I see no difference,' her Memory Snape said with a spiteful grin while her front teeth kept growing longer and longer because of Malfoy's hex.

Hermione took his hand and squeezed it. 'I know that, Harry. I am proud of you. And I am sure that Lily would have been proud of the man that you have become.'

The grip around her shoulders relaxed a bit, but Snape did not let her go completely. When she realised that he had retreated from her mind, she took a deep breath as if she were resurfacing after having been pushed under water for quite a while. She gasped for air and Snape was panting, too. A fine layer of sweat was glistening on his pale skin.

"Do you feel better, now that you have done this?" she asked. Her voice was surprisingly calm, contradicting the feelings that were raving inside of her. She did not cry, but she knew that the tears would come later. When she was alone in her flat and the experiences of the day would mercilessly invade her consciousness.

He let her go as if he had burnt his hands on her.

"No. Wrong. How stupid of me. Please excuse my imprecise choice of words. My asking if you feel better would imply that you do indeed feel good sometimes. But you don't, Professor Snape, do you? There is nothing at all that gives you pleasure, except maybe other people's weaknesses."

He backed away several steps and gazed at her with his eyes all screwed up. "Maybe you know now how it feels to disclose your most precious secrets unwillingly, Miss Granger," he said, very quietly.

"Yes, I know. You have violated my mind although I asked you to stop. You could have let me go," she replied.

"And this is different from your opportunity to discreetly pull back when you heard Potter and me talking?" he asked icily.

Hermione darted an angry glance at him. "It is different because I was really sorry about what I did, and I apologised for it. You, on the other hand, are not sorry about your using Legilimency on me. You were right when you said that I expected you to hide your true self behind a mask made of impoliteness and tactlessness. Remember? But now I see that there is nothing indeed to mask at all. I look into your eyes and all I see is emptiness.

"When I eavesdropped on your conversation with Harry, I saw emotion on your face for the very first time. There was pain, sadness and guilt, and so I thought that, hidden from everyone, somewhere deep inside of you, you were still alive, Professor Snape. I thought that, as long as you had such feelings, there might also be some that could make you enjoy your life once more at some point. I thought you were a brave man. But now I realise that you keep clinging to the guilt you are feeling for Lily Potter's death because you are too much of a coward to let go. All other parts of you are dead because you do not allow yourself to feel anything but guilt.

"Yes, Professor, you are a coward: too afraid to either really live or die. You could not forgive me when I asked you for it because you have nothing left that enables forgiveness. Deep down inside, you are a dead man."

She panted as if she had run a marathon, although she had not moved an inch. All those words had slipped from her tongue before she even had the chance to think whether she really could or wanted to say them. She would never have thought that she could find the courage to speak to him like that. However, his breaking into her mind with the sole purpose of returning the like had crushed any respect she had ever had for him.

He stared at her, and she expected him to say something like, 'An impressive analysis of my character, Miss Granger. Maybe you did indeed choose the wrong career because you ought to have studied psychology instead.' But he said nothing.

When he finally did speak, his words hit her like a blow to the stomach.

"Yes, I am," he said, very silent, not looking at her. "I am nothing, and I am nowhere."