Neville had managed to overtrump himself another time. Now, by sending Professor Flitwick on top of a cabinet instead of the cushion he had been supposed to train the Banishing Charm on, into a box. But the distraction was the best they could get to cover their conversation about Harry’s strange last-night-meeting. Hermione couldn’t fully hide a smile when thinking about how odd it must have looked like to Moody, being the only one who had seen Harry caught in the trick stair. Though then Ron said something that rang a droll bell in her head.
“Oh Ron,”, she shook her head, partly hoping it would stop the strange ringing, “We thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry’s life, remember?”
Yes, all three of them remembered. But she still hadn’t told them who else’s lives he had saved. They weren’t supposed to know. Not supposed to know anything. And if she had to Banish a hundred cushions perfectly like she did now, to find a way to talk about the topic without giving the information away.
“I don’t care what Moody says.”, especially not since she had witnessed things that would be far from their understanding. “Dumbledore’s not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn’t have given them jobs, so why shouldn’t he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit – ”
“Evil?, Ron cut her off. “Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark-wizard-catchers searching his office then?”, he had a right point on this, but she had set herself a task – a rather hard one considering the boys’ determination.
“Why has Mr Crouch been pretending to be ill? It’s a bit funny, isn’t it, that he can’t manage to come to the Yule Ball but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?”, she snorted, looking after Ron’s cushion that hit a window.
“You just don’t like Crouch because of that elf, Winky.”
“You just want to think Snape’s up to something.”, another cushion of hers went into the box.
“I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he’s on his second one.”, Harry argued, his cushion landing on Hermione’s.
“Well, then why don’t you go and ask him?”, she snapped, giving the cushions a wave and they zoomed all at Harry, a bit faster than she had expected.
“Protego!”, Harry yelled in panic, making the cushions bump off the shield. “What was that for?”
“Sorry! I just didn’t want to get them one by one!”, Hermione blushed. “Seems, I am a bit too good already.”
“Obsessed, rather.”, grunted Harry. “And thanks for teaching me that spell. Anyway, remember what I told you we heard Karkaroff saying to him? There is something he’s hiding and it’s something big.”, so right, but definitely the wrong context, thought Hermione. “And the two being – well, I wouldn’t say friends, but – familiar with each other – I mean, that isn’t something good in my opinion.”
“Why is the word `friends´ so out of personality to you when talking about Snape?”
“Oh I don’t know – maybe – because it’s him? Probably you missed it, but he’s not one of the lovely sort, hanging out with his mates with a cup of tea and cinnamon biscuits and cosy cushions every other night, you know?”
“No, I haven’t missed that.”, one such cushion was forced back into the box without Hermione looking at it. “But as I say, we were wrong about him. Terribly wrong. He saved your life and that must have a reason.”, she hated sticking to that sole example, but what else could she do? “And until we know what exactly the reason is, we should accept that there isn’t a flicker in his attitude we are to believe. Honestly – putting your name into the goblet – he might be powerful, but that is a very, very, very powerful object. Whoever manipulated it – ”
“You just said it. He might be powerful and we shouldn’t believe him. So, what if he is extremely powerful and hides it?”, Harry frowned, giving her an utmost bored look.
“Don’t twist my words!”, she hissed curtly. “And you are in that man’s debt!”
“And what do you think, should I do?”, Harry chuckled. “It’s not like he brings himself in a perilous situation on a daily basis, is it?”
“For instance, give him some trust?”, Hermione ignored the second sentence.
“How am I supposed to trust someone who visibly hates me?”, Harry grunted. “He’s doing anything to punish me! How am I to trust such a man? Honestly, saving my life is no remedy for his constant taunting.”
Yes, the wall. The wall called Harry Potter’s opinion. Not even a giant size Bludger could destroy it if he wouldn’t let it. She knew, that; no matter how hard she tried; Snape would have to save his life a dozen times before Harry would consider probably thinking a tiny bit different about him. Though how could she possibly tell him what she had seen and heard? How could he believe her that she had witnessed, experienced those things? Remember – speak to no one. His voice echoed somewhere in her head. She had promised. She had sworn. She wasn’t to tell a thing. She wasn’t to reveal that Severus Snape had a good side. Biting her lower lip, she sent another cushion through the room.
“Well? Any more arguments?”, Hermione didn’t answer. “Why are you defending him anyway?”
“I’m not defending him. I just say that Dumbledore seems to have a reason to trust him and Snape has proven that he can do something good. So why by all means don’t you drop it? As long as you don’t find him strutting through the castle in a Death Eater uniform and screaming `Hail the Dark Lord´, I don’t think there’s any reason to hate him.”
“For your information, I heard him calling Voldemort like this,”, Harry blinked, but she didn’t care. “And he accused me of having set Padfoot free, in front of – ”
“Surprise, surprise. He might just have been right with that.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Then why bringing it up? And for Heaven’s sake, don’t give him reasons to tease you.”
“He teases you as well, Hermione.”, Ron noted. “What about that `I see no difference´-thing with your teeth? Just one example of loads,”
“I know that wasn’t charming and all. But he can’t say that again, remember?”, she grinned artificially, showing for what seemed to be the hundredth time what Madam Pomfrey had done to her teeth.
“How can you be so ignorant?”
“Because it doesn’t matter if you complain about his rudeness. That won’t make him stop. I just say, don’t give him a reason.”, the bell rang and Hermione was out before they could come up with another argument.
~~#~~
“Thank you. You may leave those two to us now.”, said Professor McGonagall, ashen and looking as though she was close faint.
The twins threw each other a look, but left without any further word. There was actually quite a number of people in McGonagall’s office, which was ice cold, even though the fireplace was lit. She was continuously pointing her wand at the flames, her hand shaking terribly. Cho Chang and a little girl with blond hair stood in a corner, giving a quite similar troubled image. Next to them were Madam Maxime and Professor Flitwick, both carrying a serious, but slightly shaken face. Ludo Bagman sat in McGonagall’s chair and seemed holding back the urge to vomit. And Igor Karkaroff, his arms crossed, leant against the wall to Hermione’s right. He appeared to feel the need to strangle something and his nevertheless emotionless eyes kept flicking at the shiny letter opener on McGonagall’s desk.
Just then, she noticed something black on the windowsill. It took her a second look to realise it was Snape. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and stared outside, into the evening sky. Hermione was already trembling from the cold air as well when she found Ron frowning at him. Then the door opened and closed again.
“I am sorry to be late,”, the old man sang, “But I got held up by my own chaos. Never mind. So – ”
Dumbledore fell silent as he got aware of the very peculiar and tense situation. McGonagall had her eyes shut by then, her lips dangerously disappearing and her hand shaking even more on the flames that reduced with every second.
“Will you stop it!”, she bellowed, struggling for air.
The flames burst up a little and the chandelier lit itself; the cold vanished within moments. McGonagall’s hand fell slack to her side. All others sighed with relief. All but Snape and Karkaroff. The latter grunted into space, not losing his expression.
“Does anyone mind telling me what is going on here?”, Dumbledore asked and stepped past Ron and Hermione, his eyes knowingly on Snape.
“A childish madness, that is what is going on, Albus!”, moaned McGonagall. “I don’t even know what kind of problem they’ve got! They refuse to speak a language we understand!”
“Severus?”, a silent pause, but no reaction. “Would you tell me, what this is about?”
“This, is private, Albus.”, mumbled Karkaroff.
“Then please take it to a different place and time. None of us is here because we want to deal with your personal issues, I think.”
Snape turned, slid off the sill and marched through the room, not deigning anyone a look. Before he could reach the door, Karkaroff grumbled something in the language what Hermione now knew definitely to be Russian. Suddenly there was a black rush. Dumbledore jumped aside in shock. A second later, Karkaroff was pressed against the wall he stood at, unable to breathe. The firm hand on his throat didn’t allow him. McGonagall’s formerly already big eyes were now widened with horror.
“Severus – ”, aspirated Dumbledore.
“Say that again.”, Snape snarled.
He waited a moment. A long moment in which Karkaroff’s look became dazed. The man was close to pass out. Only then Snape would let go. Clutching his fingers to fists, he stared at his friend who rubbed the area that had suffered from the pressure. He was as poleaxed as everybody else, but slowly his shock transformed to a kind of sad regret and Hermione could have sworn his hair was a little less silvery now, but rather grey.
“Don’t tell me – ”, Karkaroff whispered, “Still? Is that – you never stopped – ?”
“Something like this, doesn’t stop, Igor.”, Snape panted as exhausted as though he had run a marathon and his hands sunk down limply. “Never.”
Hermione couldn’t see his face through his greasy black curtain, but due to his new position, she saw Dumbledore drilling his eyes into either man’s head as though he was trying to get in there and find out what was happening inside. Karkaroff took a step forward raised his hand to gently lift Snape’s head, the fingers quivering faintly until they reached it. The look with which he examined the younger man’s face, it was so woeful, Hermione feared she would start crying any second. But there was also a hint of peculiar uncertainty. Then he slowly laid his arms around Snape and pulled him close, stroking his head and back in a tender way she had never seen anyone do.
“What?”, Ron murmured quiet, his face deformed to a worse grimace with every passing second.
“I am sorry.”, Karkaroff didn’t raise his voice much. “It was tactless of me. I should have known. Please forgive me. I am sorry.”, he sighed when the other’s hands wandered up his back and a number of deathly pale fingers dug into the golden embroidered white robe.
“What’s that – ”, whispered Ron. “What’re they – ”
“Shut up, Ron.”, Hermione hissed quietly.
“What?”
“I said, shut up, you immature – ”
“Hermione – Snape’s – he’s – and Karkaroff – what – ”, he stammered with gaping eyes.
“Shut up!”, she spat at him.
She didn’t care. She didn’t care that everyone looked at her as though she had just blown away the entire castle. She didn’t give a damn. Not knowing why, the fury raced through her whole body and her hands were in fists like Snape’s had been. That one’s eyes were glistening in the shine of the chandelier. Tears had begun to fill them, but the flow had stopped with her yell. Still in a half embrace with his friend, he blinked at her. She could see it in the corner of her eye: McGonagall held her hand to her chest and Bagman was glued straight against the backrest of her chair.
“Miss Granger?”, it was Dumbledore. “Could you tell me please, what upsets you?”, her tension fell off and her lips curled, still staring at Ron.
“Yeah.”, said the ginger. “It’d be really helpful,”
Meanwhile, the two men had let go of one another and Karkaroff crossed his arms again, twirling his goatee in thoughts – or embarrassment; she was too angry to bother. Snape just eyed him, though his face was directed towards Hermione, who too noticed something like a shimmer returning to Karkaroff’s hair, but it could be due to his changed position.
“I’m not going to discuss this with you, Ron. Just show a little bit of humanity.”
“Humanity? What’s wrong with you?”, this time it was him to hiss. “Didn’t you see? Snape – ”
“Is just a man.”, Hermione huffed.
“What?”, he briefly shook his head as if he was trying to get that out of it. “Well, tell me that in next Potions lesson, will you? Next time he harasses us – ”
“And he’s still here.”, grunted Hermione. “I won’t pity you if he does treat you bad in our next lesson. I won’t say, it’s your fault. You will hopefully know that yourself.”
“If I didn’t know better,”, Karkaroff whispered, “I would say, you got a gallant.”
There was a loud clap, and a strange bright red split-second flash. Again, all eyes shot in one direction. Karkaroff held himself to the wall with the left hand, the right was on his cheek and his eyes were unfocused for several seconds. Hermione could just see Snape’s arm sinking. The dark eyes were glaring up to the chandelier, his expression as grim as before.
“Phew! Well, I think, I deserved that one.”, chuckled Karkaroff, rubbed his cheek and straightened. “You won; I’m an idiot.”, Snape only puffed, visibly gritting his teeth behind his lips.
“Have you got it then?”, McGonagall moaned again. “Everyone?”, she paused and looked between the two pairs. “Can we do now, what we are supposed to be here for?”
Snape took a deep breath and walked back to the window he had sat at. Hermione wondered how he had gotten up there. The sill was even above his head, as she saw now. But he reached upwards and pulled himself onto it with ease, not even hindered by his floor length cloak. Then he wrapped his arms around his knees like earlier and turned his head to the darkening school grounds, the cloak hanging down like a curtain.
“Very well,”, sighed Dumbledore, “Then without you, Severus. Now.”, he waved the group in the corner to Ron and Hermione so he wouldn’t have to move too much. “You four of course wonder, why you have been summoned here. It does probably sound a little unpleasant at the first mention, but you need not worry. Though I must ask for your word. You are to keep every bit that has occurred in this office to you. Do you understand?”, three of them nodded on his serious words, knowing that nobody would believe them anyway if they told, and Hermione risked a quick glance on Karkaroff who struggled between looking up to Snape – or at nothing at all. “Fine. What we are going to do is, let me say it short, drop you in the lake.”, he smiled brightly.
“What?”, Ron was visibly shocked.
“Like I assumed. Well, as I believe, all four of you have been told the riddle by either of the Champions?”, all but the little blonde nodded again. “Good. You are the things they `will sorely miss´.”
Ron looked at Hermione, obviously understanding faster than he would have expected himself to do. Hermione could almost see the awareness form behind his eyes. His lips however shaped a soundless `Krum?´ and she gave him a smirk in return. `Hang on!´ followed.
“Though as I said, there is not the slightest reason for you to fear. You will be unconscious all the time and only wake up, when your lips meet with the fresh air above the lake, ready to breathe. Tomorrow morning you are asked to have breakfast early and make your way down to the Black Lake an hour before everyone else does. There you will be given the potion that causes the effect and then be brought to the far ground of the lake by our Selkies.”
“Excuse me, Sir, but what exactly are Selkies?”
“Merpeople, Ron.”, Hermione noted.
“Oh.”
“But considering that they’re living in a lake, the right – ”
“That is right, Miss Granger.”, Dumbledore cut her off. “Now Severus, would you mind joining the party again and explain the exact effect of the potion to our – chosen?”, Hermione had the strange impression that he had closely avoided the use of the word `victims´. “I think, it would be far more pleasant in this cosy office than in the morning by the lake and this way they can sleep over it.”
“You could have read it to them from a book. Why needing me.”, Snape murmured to the window.
“Because I believe, that you will be able to explain it much better and understandable than any book. Or why else do you think, I sent for you?”
“Oh, I don’t know – I thought you maybe wished me to bake biscuits for you in front of everyone,”
“Your sarcasm is no use here,”, Dumbledore warned. “Climb off your throne, if you would, please.”
“If I must,”, he slid off the windowsill once more and walked towards the gathered, now wrapping his chest with his cloak as though he was afraid one of them could see into his heart otherwise. “But of course, I should be used to your favour to tailor everyone to fit your clothes’ size.”
“Severus,”, Dumbledore said with his infamous look over his spectres, but not less grim than the other.
“Very well. The effect,”, Snape spoke calm, with his hands in his armpits, “Is not as pleasant as one might think. If any of you has ever experienced the sensation of suffocating with death’s claws reaching out for you already and just missing you in the last split-second, you might be able to picture slightly what I am talking about.”
Ron and Cho swallowed. Hermione however, hung on every word he said, noticing that he avoided precisely her eyes.
“If not, lucky you, so far. But it is necessary to guarantee a thorough breath. The potion is designed to work with one’s surrounding, as it is meant to feign death. Should you take it while your nose and mouth are surrounded by air, you will wake when either something is pressed to those holes or you dive into water. Therefore, you will have to temporarily stopper the flask with your thumb and carefully drink it under the surface; and beware to not spit out anything, it has got an – ah, utmost delicious taste. Anyway, seconds later, you will pass out and remain unharmed by any sort of pressure of an average lake’s main content. But it becomes dangerous after approximately little more than one and a half hours. That is why the Champions have no more time than sixty minutes to rescue either of their dear. Of course they will be granted fifteen minutes of pardon, but after that, the task will be aborted and you will be brought to the surface otherwise, to prevent death of brain – or more functioning parts of your bodies.”, Snape glanced at Ron as though he had known what would come.
“We’ll have to drink that?”, Ron seemed not to have heard the last add in his panic.
“Yes, you will have to drink that, Mr Weasley. Injection has not been applied successfully yet. Believe me, many people died at the try to skirt the magnificent taste of that specific potion, even though it would have asked for only some seconds of endurance.”
“Who made it?”, Snape rolled his eyes.
“The mother of Edwin the Hunk from Uranus.”, he sneered boredly.
“Who’s that?”, frowned Ron, actually confused, probably due to the overload from the books they had scanned before.
“Can someone slap this with its own entrails, please?”
Hermione couldn’t resist a giggle. The grimace Ron gave her; seeming to have woken from his trance then; was mere disgust, just as if she had been the one to have said that.
“Mind your phrasing, Severus. There is a little child present.”, Dumbledore warned again.
“First, do I have to remind you that it has been you who said, I may quote, `I believe, that you will be able to explain it much better´? And second, this particular girl doesn’t understand a thing what I or anyone else here is saying.”
By the expression on the girl’s face, this could have been the truth. She had just stared around since Hermione had noticed her in the corner, still every now and then throwing an unseen look up at the gigantic Madam Maxime, who had missed each single of them either.
“Didn’t anticipate that, did you?”
“Ah, I’m afraid, you may be right. I apologise. But I am certain, Olympe can summarize it for dear Gabrielle la-”
The incredible warmth rising in her face, made her fear she wouldn’t need that potion tomorrow, but could be brought safely to the depths of the lake any moment. Dumbledore’s, Maxime’s and Ron’s eyebrows lifted to a stretching point. She didn’t know why, but hearing him speak French – or even Russian, sent chills up her spine. Unpleasantly, alarmingly, positive chills. Those languages did something to his already captivating voice, she couldn’t fully explain.
She used the time to look around, probably to distract herself. McGonagall and Bagman were the same. Taken aback, the elderly woman meddled with her wand, not noticing the green sparks dripping from its tip and Karkaroff had returned to lean to the wall with his arms half crossed and playing with his goatee, though of course totally unimpressed by the fact that his friend spoke French fluently. The girl Snape talked to, nodded every few sentences and added the one or other word or question. She hadn’t thought about it yet, but now Hermione knew that the girl must be Fleur’s sister.
“Since when does he speak French?”, asked Ron in whispering volume, but Hermione refused to answer. “Hermione? You always know everything. So?”
“How come you think, I always know everything, Ronald?”, she hissed back. “But well, if it interests you, it had happened to have appeared being useful, as you see.”
“Very charming, Miss Granger, but your grammar is questionable.”, he threw in, then continued speaking to Gabrielle Delacour.
“What the – ?”, Ron murmured.
“Didn’t you hear what Professor Dumbledore said? We aren’t to talk about what happens here.”, Hermione pouted into the air and crossed her arms. “My grammar. Tz.”
“Hermione! We’re still here! He sure meant that for later!”
“Oh what an insufferable know-it-all you are, Ronald.”
She bit her lip when she saw Snape’s face in the corner of her eye. Ron hadn’t even noticed that the man had stopped speaking another time, both spending the break with annoyed huffing.
“Stop imitating him, you incredible – ”
“I what! What am I!”, her anger now shooting directly at Ron, she presented him with the most furious face she could come up with, and was surprised that she didn’t find it all too hard. “Come on, say it!”
“Really, Miss Granger.”, said McGonagall. “Keep your private argues to your private rooms.”
“I absolutely agree.”, Snape added. “It is only a minute or two I ask for, so I can finish explaining to Miss Delacour. Then you can celebrate some happy nighttime without me.”, there was some grumbling from the man at the wall. “This goes for you as well, Igor.”
Another grumble, but it was ignored. He even apologised to the girl for the inconvenience, Hermione understood. Then everything was just – too complicated French again, and Karkaroff’s Russian monologue, due to his friend’s indifference. Now even Flitwick, who had remained studying the situation quiet, had pushed his hands into his hips. Snape gave a snort after Gabrielle nodded one last time and turned around. Karkaroff still mumbled, having become louder and clearer at a constant pace. Now it could already be called talking. And as soon as it could, he was drowned by similar, thronging words in the same language.
Ron’s eyes nearly fell out. Hermione was close to burst into laughter. It was fascinating, scary and funny at the same time. Slower than perhaps wanted, their conversation actually became one and they finally didn’t speak against, but one after the other. Though Karkaroff’s beard had turned into an enormous twirl and his eyes were still fixated on the window. There was a final word from him, followed by a tense pause. Then Snape stomped towards him, grabbed him by the collar, dragged him to the door which opened on its own, and literally threw him out. He firmly closed the door and leaned with his back against it, trying not to look at anyone.
Dumbledore chuckled, Bagman and Cho didn’t understand the world anymore, McGonagall had dropped her wand to the floor without notice, Flitwick’s arms hung slack and Maxime simply gazed down on him, not feeling Gabrielle tugging at her robe in a pointless attempt to find out what was going on this time. Ron was still dangerously close to lose his eyeballs to gravity and Hermione held a hand on her mouth to press back any sign of amusement. The second hand joined it when the door was pushed open with Snape’s shoes digging into the floor and Karkaroff threw in a comment before his fingers were almost crushed in the frame as the door was shut by Snape’s full weight.
The teacher’s face was cold fury and for a second Hermione thought she had heard his teeth chafing. His feet slid slowly over the stone floor again as the door was forced open once more, just enough for more words in Russian to come in. A loud, angry growl and he had turned to swing the door open. Almost everyone winced. Karkaroff didn’t even reach the floor when falling inside. Snape had caught him midways and hurtled him back outside.
“Dùin do bheul agus thalla is bheir ort!”, he barked at him.
“What?”, the other chuckled.
“LEARN GAELIC, FER CRIPE’S SAKE!”, the words echoed outside. “Ge’ it up ye!”
This time Karkaroff fortunately understood that it meant he had lastly stepped over the line. Seriously scared, he leapt and sped away into the corridor. Snape slammed the door so fiercely that it jumped back open and was crashed shut a second time.
“Blimey,”, muttered Ron subdued, “It’s like they’re married or something,”
“Severus!”, McGonagall had gotten to her senses, brandishing her hands wildly. “Stop raping my door!”, Hermione nearly choked at her tongue on the use of words.
“I am still fully dressed.”, Snape snorted, seemingly in total control of what he had been doing – Hermione wondered whether they had just played that scene and if, why.
“Excuse me?”, McGonagall blinked.
“Have you seen me pushing down my pants before I leant to it, Minerva?”
“What – ”
“Then don’t say, I raped your door.”, Hermione shortly turned to Dumbledore, just to find him as amused as she was. “And besides, if I should ever feel the need for such a blatantly brutal act, believe me, doors; or any other kind of wooden things; do not belong to my matters of interest. Someone like me does not rape plants, neither living, nor dead.”, McGonagall just shook her head in disbelief of the whole.
“Can you two please calm down and behave like adults?”, moaned Dumbledore, though not fully losing his smirk.
“I am the calmness in person.”, Snape sang, his empty expression still on McGonagall. “You are supposed know better what happens when I should actually lose my mind, Albus.”
“Quite certainly.”, Dumbledore sighed with his eyebrows disappearing mournfully under his hat and his arms dangling like a bored child’s.
“Um – Sir?”, Hermione started, partly to change the topic.
“Yes, Miss Gran-?”
“I think, she means me.”, Snape interrupted him.
“Do you, Miss – ”
“She used a specific, two-letter stammering.”, he turned. “If you hear it and I am present, there is a possibility of ninety-nine percent that she means me.”, Hermione blushed; Ron pulled a face that was very unpleasant to look at. “Well?”
“Um – ”
“There she goes.”
“Hey!”
“Hello.”
“Sir!”
“Miss.”
“Stop it!”
“What is the magic word?”
“Silence!”, everyone but the two winced.
“Quick thinking. But not what I meant.”, he sighed after two seconds of such. “Yes, Miss Granger?”
“Er – where was I – oh my goodness – yes.”, she squinted. “Can I have a word with you?”
“I don’t know whether you can; because you seem to hang on the edge of ability; but you may, if you deeply desire to have more of them than you already had.”, he sneered.
“In – private?”, Hermione moaned, feeling that she blushed a little more.
“Why would you want to talk to me in private?”, he could push it pretty far, she thought.
“Well, it’s about – the potion.”
“Which.”, Snape replied coldly.
“Which?”, Hermione was confused. “Oh – which!”, she bit her lip, almost having forgotten that there was another potion they would need to discuss in private. “The one we are supposed to take tomorrow morning.”
“Then I see no need for privacy.”
“But I do, Sir.”, she had no idea how to convince him without sounding stupid, especially due to his current mood. “I’m afraid, I cannot do this.”
“Are you incapable of drinking?”
“No,”
“Do you happen to know the potion’s compound and believe you are allergic to one of its ingredients?”
“No and no.”, slowly, he was frustrating her and she felt some sympathy for McGonagall.
“Allergic to water?”
“No – what?”
“I am sorry, but unless you can come up with any fascinatingly rare phenomenon, I can’t understand what might prevent you from doing it.”, Hermione snorted.
“That’s exactly why I meant `in private´.”, she hissed through her teeth.
“Is it so hard to enlighten us all, for educational purpose?”
“It’s not a fascinatingly rare phenomenon, Sir, but it is serious. Absolutely serious.”, if he didn’t want to give in, she knew she wasn’t to do so either.
“Meaning?”, Snape remained expectably unimpressed.
“Does it influence any other liquids than the water of the lake, for example?”
“Which would be?”
“God!”, Hermione murmured.
“There is no proof that God is liquid, Miss Granger.”
“I – ”
“Oh but well, that might explain why people call those all too dry deserts `godforsaken places´,”, he blinked into space with a mock-pondering tone.
“Holy canopy,”, she puffed.
“Where does that stand? I want to pilgrim – ”
“I mean – anything! Any liquid!”, muttered Hermione. “Like – I don’t know – saliva!”
“Is your saliva so environmentally hazardous that you fear, you might contaminate the lake, if you unconsciously dribble into the water?”
“NO!”, that had escaped just a little louder than she had wished.
“No, Sir, for you.”, Hermione panted heavily at his angry look, her own rage becoming despair.
“I – ”, she mumbled, “I’m in my strawberry week.”
Snape only rolled his eyes and huffed. Hermione turned as red as what she had circumscribed. And right when she believed the situation couldn’t get worse, the universe struck in shape of a ginger boy.
“What strawberries?”, asked Ron, insanely curious.
“See? That’s why I meant, private – Sir.”, perhaps only to cheer herself up, she gave Snape a faint smirk.
“What the bloody hell’s a strawberry week?”
“Exactly that, Weasley. Yet for at least three thousand years, women have found a very small, handy solution for that.”, it somewhat calmed her that he finally was getting serious, even a bit caring.
“I – never – used – I can’t – ”
“Well, you should learn it until tomorrow morning, or you will have to come up with another person, Mr Krum puts at least a little value in. After all, the Selkies cannot bind his broomstick to an underwater pillar.”, Snape sighed, managing to make her chuckle; by the strange flicker in his eyes she knew that he could just as much have meant – “It can’t be too difficult. You could, for example, ask Miss Chang here. Maybe she can help you out.”, Hermione had nearly forgotten the girl was there too.
“I – don’t use them either.”, Cho whispered her first words of the evening.
“Then – what about Miss Weasley? As far as I am aware, you are good friends with her?”
“Her Red Baron hasn’t landed yet.”, Snape scratched his neck, causing a nerve in Hermione’s brain to twitch.
“There are – how many girls in your dormitory, Miss Granger? You cannot tell me that neither of them has experience with – ”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you’d better ask them tonight, or you’d have to improvise.”
“Improvise?”
“A cloth filled and sewn together with wool – a sea sponge and a string – an unboned, toothless mouse – be creative!”, Snape moaned. “It can’t be that hard, can it?”
“Oh Severus, you have no idea how hard that can be. I am glad that this ended fifteen years ago for me.”, McGonagall threw in. “Though the flushings are horror.”, she added subdued.
“Strawberry week! Blimey! Now I get it!”, Ron chuckled.
“Very subtle, Mr Weasley.”
“Sorry Ma’am.”
“Now then, Miss Granger, either you find someone else to your assistance, but unless you pay me one thousand Galleons, I am sorry to disappoint you. I will not go and buy you tampons.”
“Oh why not, Severus.”, Dumbledore smirked. “I imagine that to be utmost interesting.”
“Ah, we have a volunteer!”, Snape sang, his flat hands in the air.
“Rather not. Just picture me buying tampons. Rather you, then.”
“What does that mean.”, he glared at him, arms dropped.
“It means, what it means.”, smiled the old man and winked.
“That’s – not – ”, he slowly shook his head with his left index finger raised only as he muttered, “That is completely off topic and not nearly – ”
“Or do you think, anyone would believe I was going to buy them for a granddaughter?”, the old man ignored him.
“More likely than me, buying them for the daughter I never had.”, huffed Snape and Hermione could see him swallowing, in spite of his high buttoned collar.
“I see, it is set. You will have to confess, should it be in question, that you buy them for your student. If you insist, I might give you one thousand Galleons even.”
“I wun’ go buyin’ tampons!”, Snape raged and nearly everyone jumped back from him.
“Oops, that was a nerve,”, the Headmaster snickered under his breath.
“Every store is closed anyway. And if Miss Granger here or you should have a thousand Galleons, I don’t trust any of those Muggle petrol station stores.”
“Ah? But you know where to get tampons at such a time? Great!”
“I said, I won’t – ”
“I think, I’ll just ask – the stalker.”, Hermione curled her lips.
“Then make sure to tell her that I changed to pyjamas.”, Snape mumbled. “It could help both of us. And they are blue. Pardon, Oxford blue. I don’t want her to picture me in Majorelle or Tiffany – or Cyan even – ”
“Then rather Fay.”
“Thank you for not helping me.”
“Alright!”, she moaned. “I might think about it.”
“Whatever. Don’t take too long or you might have to sneak out for finding her. I cannot guarantee that she will be the only one to cost Gryffindor points.”
“I could ask Marietta if she uses them,”, Cho remembered to have a best friend.
“No need. I decided. I will ask Fay.”
“Thank you,”, sighed Snape.
“Vengeance is very sweet, Professor.”
“Pardon me, Miss Granger?”
“Oh no, not at all.”, Hermione’s sudden determination made her grow about two inches. “When I asked for privacy, you refused. Don’t expect me to shield you, Sir.”
“Hermione?”
It was Ron again, but she didn’t care. All she could do was turn under Snape’s bewildered look and storm out of the office.
The corridor was dark and cold already. Not even the torches lit when she passed them, towards the staircase to the basement. It was not until she reached it and a hand grabbed her left upper arm, that she noticed she had been followed. With a shriek, she spun and found herself only little more than a hand broad away from him. Even though it was new moon and no fire burning, his face was pale enough she could see it clear in the darkness. His grip loosened, but his hand remained in place.
“I’m sorry.”, he whispered softly, Hermione just frowned. “I – didn’t mean to – expose you – ”
“The harm is done, Sir.”, she huffed. “And even if you should be honest, I don’t like Parvati enough to ask her about tampons. After all, she’s stalking me as well, because of you.”
Snape nodded, absent minded and sad. She felt a little ashamed to see him like this, blinking to the dark floor to his left in thoughts. A sudden urge to lay her arms around him, just to hold him close for a moment overcame her, but she forced herself to resist. She just couldn’t do that again. It was Snape. Not one of her friends, not even a teacher she liked. If something, she felt sympa–
“Come with me.”
“Sorry?”
“I think, I know who could help properly and be discreet enough not to talk about it.”
Before Hermione knew what was going on, she was already pulled through dark corridors by the wrist. Corridors, which she knew the torches always lighted up in when someone drew near at night. Was he preventing it so nobody who came along would see them? That would explain why she had had to walk downstairs without light. Not able to make out where exactly they were going, she let herself be dragged with literal blind faith.
Endless dark and quiet minutes later, they finally arrived at some door. The first light, apart from the few stars that had shimmered through the one or other window: it was a thin orange line at the bottom of the door. Three quick knocks.
“Yes?”, the voice of a woman could be heard through the door.
“It is me.”
“Oh – come in, Severus. It’s open.”
He pushed down the handle and Hermione had to blink several times so she could see in the dramatic change of brightness, although it was only a fire in the unusually small chimney to her left and a lamp on a desk. She had never been to that office. It was small as well, but cosy, with all sorts of knitted and crocheted tablecloths on shelves and three crammed tables inside. There were pots with green plants on the windowsill facing the door and everywhere between piles and rows of books and other things like vases with – plastic flowers, or objects she knew that only Muggles would keep, or at best, throw away. If Arthur Weasley had been a woman, this would definitely have been his asylum, Hermione thought.
“Good evening, Charity.”
“Hey. To what do I owe the – ”, the blond woman sitting at the desk to their left took off her reading specs, smiling, when Snape closed the door behind, letting go of Hermione’s wrist at last. “Oh – Hermione – what a nice surprise! A very good evening to you as well!”
“Good evening, Professor Burbage.”, Hermione aspirated with a smirk.
“What can I do for you?”
“Our Miss Granger here has a little, very intimate problem. But I believe, it is better if I left it to her to explain it again. It should be a lot easier now.”
“Alright. Hermione, you can sit down, if you like to.”, Professor Burbage waved to the sofa at the other side of the narrow room. “I’ll be there in a minute.”, she put back on her glasses and briefly scanned the papers she had been working on.
“Thank you, Professor.”
Hermione shuffled over the soft carpet and sat down, sinking in quite deep and noticing a second door between the entrance and the sofa when she clutched the side rest with a surprised gasp. Snape had literally glided towards Burbage and had a look at the papers as well. From her position, Hermione could just see how his lips stood a wee bit open in thoughts as his dark eyes gazed down at the writing, hollow tunnels into depths of which she knew she had managed to only scratch the surface, a surface that was desperately repaired by him with words and looks and –
“Honestly?”, a chuckle escaped him.
Hermione’s eyebrows wandered up. It had been a chuckle unlike any others – it wasn’t disappointment or pity, but amused disbelief.
“``Injecting energy into a capsule´´? And ``as soon as it is inserted, the objects suck the energy much like a plant would drink water´´? What an extremely romantic description, but it won’t get her a Nobel Prize, let alone an intelligent boyfriend.”
“But you must admit, in basics, that’s how it works.”
“If one demands the very lowest standards of understanding – ”
“Severus. She probably never even held a battery in hand before I showed them how to put it into an alarm clock. Oh don’t give me that look. I tricked them with a bit of wandless, nonverbal fun.”
“What a foul woman you are,”, he lightly shook his head, though his expression remained empty. “Anything for the sight of their faces when they desperately try to get battery-powered alarm clocks to work here. Blessed be the good old times when Time-Turners had the size of an elephant and worked with steam. Best results around teenage girls.”
“A teensy-weensy bit sexist, aren’t we?”, Burbage snickered up to him and he sighed deeply, looking through the closed window into the night.
“But solely a very tiny teensy-weensy wee bit.”
“What did he do again?”
“Who?”, his head jerked back at her.
“Your Russian Short-Snout.”
“Nothing he hadn’t ever done before.”, Snape huffed, turned and sat himself onto the edge of her desk beside her papers, his hands placed on the little free space with some difficulty.
“He needs a dog.”, that cost him a chuckle again and his head sunk so deep to his chest Hermione couldn’t see his lips anymore, but he closed his eyes, maybe from exhaustion or in order to shield them from her as he had realised she was still there.
“He has found it in me.”
“Of course much to your discomfort.”, Burbage clearly winked with her left eye, which Hermione found rather useless – or had it secretly been meant as a hint for her?
“You’re right.”, he lifted his head, but only glared at the corner to Hermione’s left. “It wouldn’t bother me at all, if he hadn’t acted out a fair range of his personality in front of a Half-Giant, two of our colleagues, a bewildered French girl, three students, a lunatic Ex-Quidditch-Player and – one of his kind.”, Snape sighed again.
“And of course you were able to resist jumping on the bandwagon.”
“He drew in his horns when he had to discover that dog was a Hebridean Black covered with fur.”
“Oh goodness – and Albus didn’t throw either of you out, I guess?”
“I was surprised, actually.”, Snape frowned. “Perhaps he fancies drama queens, I don’t know. I never asked for his type. But well, now that I think about it, it appears logical. After all he likes watching war films, accompanied with chamber music.”, Hermione unintentionally gulped and blinked heavily.
“Now come on. Don’t bare the good old man that much.”, Burbage laughed; and what a bright laugh it was, Hermione thought – the blond waves, the laugh – it was completely contrary to Snape’s greasy curtains and hollow frustration. “Especially in front of a student. Okay – er – is there anything else you need, or do you want to stay while I try to solve whatever matter troubles Hermione?”
“Er – ”
“Oh, did you know by the way that an otter family settled down at the lake?”
“Where.”, his eyes zoomed at her.
“Not far from your nest, actually. Spotted an exit in the near and there were some tracks. So I crept up and guess, I saw them!”, her excitement couldn’t have been more obvious. “Goodness, you can’t imagine how cute they are!”
“Interesting.”, was all that Snape said on it, rather unimpressed, but Hermione did indeed find it interesting.
“If I could only tame an otter. I’d love to have one as a pet.”
“How is the hyacinth doing?”
“Fantastic!”, Burbage sang and nodded to a certain pot.
“Ah yes, now I see it.”, a frail smile drifted over his lips, he slid off the desk and paced past her, to the well growing blue flower on a crooked table to Hermione’s right.
“At last. I think, I will just tell Pomona it died and pray she doesn’t enter my office.”, Burbage’s laughing faded into giggling and she packed her papers to a pile and placed the glasses on top.
“Certainly, you should do that.”, his hair slightly slid into his face when he studied the plant in every detail, though didn’t touch it. “In-indeed – wonderful – ”
Snape straightened, but didn’t take his eyes off the hyacinth. Hermione could see parts of his face again. It was as mournful and in thoughts as it had been out in the dark. Slowly, he lifted his left hand, shook back the sleeve of his cloak and very careful brushed the tips of his fingers against the thick, needle-like leaves and, even more cautious, a number of blooms. He bent down once more and inhaled the smell through his nose only, his eyes closing. Hermione bit her lower lip with sadness.
“Sir?”, Snape raised another time and gazed at her, his hand pulled back. “Do you – um – do you miss the florist’s?”, his lips standing ajar, he only blinked at the hyacinth, turned and walked for the door. “I’m sorry – ”, Hermione stopped him with his hand on the handle. “I’m really sorry – ”
“No need.”, he said to the door. “It is only natural, that you ask. Good night, Miss Granger, Charity,”
“G’night, Severus.”, the woman sighed.
“Goodnight, Sir.”, he already almost closed the door without turning back. “Thank you – ”, and it was shut. “For the help.”, Hermione sighed and looked back at the hyacinth, just in time for seeing a single flower fall into the pot.
“I think, he does miss that job.”, Professor Burbage stood up and joined Hermione on the sofa, making it sink in further.
“You know?”
“Well, of course! Of course I know that we share some devotion – this is a Hyacinthus Litwinowii Immortalis, by the way. Severus and I have been friends for a couple of years already when I applied for my post here for the first time. He started his fifth year when I came to Hogwarts.”
“You were in Slytherin?”
“Oh, no. I was in Hufflepuff.”
“Er – but – could you – ”
“How we could possibly have become friends? Well, through our Potions teacher of course. I was absolutely miserable and he must have mentioned me in front of Severus. One day Severus came to me and offered me his help.”
“He did what?”
“Not the kind of thing, you would expect him to do, right? But you’d be surprised. He’s been much more of a brother for me than my real ones. But – oh well, that’s actually not such a big achievement, if I think about it. Anyone could be a – better – uhm – after school he had also managed to find me a job at a bookshop in Friscot Street in Cardiff and had made sure that I would get the post here after Professor Quirrell decided that thirteen years had been enough in the subject – and went for – dying – never mind.”, as quickly as Snape had left, she pulled herself out of her woe. “I worked in that shop with Alondra Moody who was stationed undercover at that time.”
“Alondra Moody?”
“I didn’t expect you to know her.”, sighed Professor Burbage. “She was as secretive as her twin-brother. They didn’t even look like relatives, but in character and speaking, they were completely the same. Unfortunately the good died in a sky battle some days before You-Know-Who’s downfall.”, Hermione was taken aback. “However, you should be careful with mentioning that job he took on in Germany. I don’t know, but somehow, he ever since tended to make a rather wide berth around still growing plants that weren’t trees – or grass – now.”, Burbage crossed her legs with a quickly put up smile, dismissing her considerations´at last. “What exactly is it that you need?”
~~#~~
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