Fic: Heart with No Companion - Chapters 12 - 13
I finally introduce an important plot element in Chapter Thirteen, in case any of you reading this were wondering what the point was. LOL.
Chapter Twelve: NETTIE
As much as I loved my sister, I hated living in the same building as her, even when said building was a castle as large as Hogwarts. You see, Poppy is the eldest sister and I am the baby of the family. We have two sisters in the middle - Marigold and Petunia - but Poppy doesn’t treat either of them like they’re half-wits. That’s a pleasure she reserves solely for me.
I suppose it’s partly my fault. She does love to boss and tell people what to do and I have become so used to it over the years, I suppose I just naturally fill my role as the youngest sister. Normally, I don’t let it bother me. I just listen to her and sometimes I’ll do as she asks and sometimes I won’t. But I never tell her to mind her own business, or to take her advice and shove it somewhere painful and wholly inappropriate.
I wish I’d done that this time.
Of course, I haven’t lived in close proximity to her for years, so there’s never been the need. That, and I don’t like confrontation, more’s the pity. It started the same day I arrived at Hogwarts with Miss Granger. After I had gotten her settled in our new suite of rooms, Poppy had made an appearance to ‘see how I was coping’ with the move. In reality, she had come to spy and she had brought several compatriots with her.
I had heard stories from her in the past about her colleagues but had never really met any of them before, with the exception of Professor Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall. I had met Professor McGonagall twice prior, when she had visited Miss Granger at St. Mungo’s.
So, there I was with Miss Granger. Professor Snape had left just a little earlier, indicating he would return after ‘discussing with Potter and Albus what he was hoping to accomplish with Hermione.’ His tone had been so dry when he told me this I knew right away this meeting was not his idea - I rather suspected that Mr. Potter needed further reassurance regarding Professor Snape’s intentions towards my young charge. Mentally, I wished him luck. From the suspicious way Potter had been looking at him most of the day, I suspected he was going to need it just to keep control of his temper.
The last thing I had wanted was to have a roost of gossipy old hens descend upon me my first day back at Hogwarts without so much as one word of warning, led by my sister. The door to the chambers was open and I could hear them coming before I saw them, their voices and slow foot steps echoing down the stone corridor.
‘It was dreadful!’ Poppy was saying, ‘There I was, tidying up, when Professor Snape burst through my floo like a wraith. You should have seen him, white shirt and dried blood down his chin, and carrying Miss Granger too! I nearly had a fainting spell.’
‘Blood down his chin? From what?’ an unidentified female voice asked curiously.
‘Harry punched him in the nose!’ Poppy replied, aghast.
There was a chorus of titters and one voice muttered what sounded like, ‘Wouldn’t make much difference.’
The sound of Poppy’s throat clearing took back the attention of her audience. ‘Apparently, he found Snape in a rather intimate position with Hermione, and had to pull them apart.’
There were several exaggerated gasps and one clear cackle among the voices. Poppy’s salacious tone and the willing ears of her cohorts to listen to such nonsense made my blood boil. Intimate position indeed!
‘Don’t fret dears, Nettie will tell us what’s going on,’ Poppy concluded sagely. ‘We’ll get the scoop from her - she’s been brought to make sure Hermione isn’t... taken advantage of.’
Of all the nerve! I looked at Miss Granger and bit the inside of my cheek, trying for a welcoming smile, even though inside I was fuming. ‘Here come the hoards, my dear. I hope you’re ready... I know I’m not.’
Professor Snape had left Miss Granger in the living area, arranged comfortably in an overstuffed armchair, for all appearances as if she were waiting for a cup of tea. I had assumed he would immediately carry her to her room and place her in bed, and had been a little surprised he hadn’t done so. When I had asked him what he was doing, he had stated flatly that, ‘Hermione was not bedridden, and therefore did not wish to be imprisoned in her bedroom for the duration of her stay.’
Can’t say I didn’t blame her. The walls in her room were quite boring.
When Poppy and her herd entered our suite, it was amusing to note the look of surprise on all their faces when they saw Miss Granger sitting there waiting for them.
‘Nettie, what is Hermione doing out of bed?’ Poppy squawked, quickly looking my way before turning to Miss Granger again.
‘Hello Poppy. Ladies,’ I nodded, my voice professional and polite. ‘Miss Granger wanted to sit out here for a while.’
‘Told you that, did she?’ a witch I didn’t know leered at me.
‘No, she told Professor Snape,’ I replied coolly.
‘Right,’ the same witch responded, rolling her shrewd yellow eyes, ‘I just bet she did.’
The other witches started talking all at once, ‘Poppy, do you really think...’, ‘I can’t believe Dumbledore...’, ‘That poor boy, no wonder he punched Snape...’, ‘Is she really, well you know...’, ‘I always knew he’d go off the bend someday...’
I was quite taken aback by all the noise. Poppy moved closer to me and tsked under her breath, ‘That man doesn’t have the sense the gods gave a goat. Hermione is in no state to be sitting up, as if she were taking visitors. Nettie dear, help me move her back to her room.’
‘No,’ I replied, quite firmly. ‘Miss Granger is fine right where she is, aren’t you dear?’ I patted the younger woman’s hand as I spoke, showing her I had no indication of allowing her to be moved anywhere.
‘Really, Nettie, as the head medi-witch here at Hogwarts, I must insist...’
‘You will do no such thing,’ I retorted. ‘I am here to care for Miss Granger, not to work for you. She is my charge, and she has indicated she does not wish to go to her room. Until Professor Snape returns and is able to tell me otherwise, she will remain here.’
The other witches in the room had stopped clucking and were watching me with interest.
‘Do you really believe she’s trapped in her mind?’ one tiny little witch inquired curiously, her wizened face reminding me of the apple dolls my mother used to make.
‘I am sure of it,’ I retorted stoutly. ‘Professor Snape does not strike me as the type of man to make things up. And since he found her this morning, her condition has quite improved.’
‘Still looks like she’s in a coma to me,’ the witch with the weird eyes muttered sarcastically.
‘That’s because she is still in a coma,’ Poppy replied imperiously. ‘Really, Nettie - how can you say she’s improved?’
I bristled under her superior attitude and big-sister tone. ‘Because she has,’ I snapped. ‘This morning she was dying, which you would have known if any of you ever bothered to visit her.’ I glanced apologetically at Professor McGonagall as I said this, but continued none-the-less. ‘Her hair was brittle and falling out, her arms and legs were twisted in on themselves - even her skin was a hideous gray. But look at her now! Since Professor Snape found her and spoke with her, she’s had a remarkable turnaround. That’s how I know she’s there.’
‘She couldn’t have been as bad as all that,’ Poppy started, but I interrupted.
‘Are you questioning my abilities as a medi-witch?’ I demanded. ‘You think I don’t know what a dying person looks like?’
‘Now Nettie, I didn’t say that...’ Poppy began, ‘I just question if you have become to close to Miss Granger and her situation. Perhaps you were imagining she was worse than she actually was.’
‘I don’t imagine things,’ was my flat response. ‘I know what I saw. Professor Snape came back and saved her.’
‘What do you mean, came back?’ a rotund, earthy looking witch asked suddenly. ‘He stopped visiting?’
‘He was recuperating from his accident,’ my voice had grown stony. I was not about to start sharing stories with any of these ladies, as I didn’t really know why his visits had stopped for their extended duration, and I wasn’t about to start hypothesizing.
‘Are you telling us he hadn’t been to see her for three weeks?’ McGonagall’s voice was frankly shocked.
‘He’s been fine enough to apparate for a couple of weeks now,’ Poppy added, looking at me shrewdly. ‘What aren’t you telling us, Nettie?’
I shrugged, ‘Nothing that concerns you, believe me.’
Poppy sniffed at me. ‘You seem to be a little short today, Nettie. I trust that it’s just the stress of relocating to Hogwarts and nothing too serious. I suppose I should be getting back to the infirmary. I’ll see you tomorrow?’
I nodded in assent, ‘You know where I am.’ I smiled politely at the other witches, ‘Ladies.’
It didn’t take them long to leave, for which I was grateful. But their voices continued to linger as they returned the way they came down the corridor. I couldn’t help but suppress a shiver from their tone, blatant skepticism and suspicion towards Miss Granger’s savior being the least of what I could hear in their gossip.
Turning back to look at my charge, I smiled grimly. ‘You realize not one of those women bothered to talk to you while they were here, Miss Granger? And none of them even introduced themselves to me. Rude cows!’
Over the course of the next few days, I settled into a nice routine with Miss Granger. Professor Snape became a frequent early morning visitor, stopping by to visit with Miss Granger before breakfast every morning. Quite often, he would actually stay to eat and avoid the great hall altogether, not that I could blame him. From the few tidbits I heard from Poppy when she visited, the rumor mill at Hogwarts was running rampant, and he was the main focus.
Since he always arrived at 7:00 am, I would make sure Miss Granger was up and dressed before his arrival. He had requested on Miss Granger’s behalf that she be allowed to wear normal clothes during the day, and I was happy to fulfill this desire. I didn’t blame the girl for wanting to appear as normal as possible for his visits. And I, always eager to help along a romance in the making, did my best to make sure she looked her best. She really was a very pretty girl when her hair was charmed against frizz.
If the day was pleasant, he would sometimes show up at lunch and put Miss Granger in an old, muggle style wooden wheel chair he had found, wrap a warm blanket around her legs, and take her for walks through the gardens nearest the lake, away from the prying eyes of students and teachers alike. On those occasions when the wheels would get stuck in the mud, he would lift her from the chair as if she were a piece of glass and continue his walk on foot. I knew this because I enjoyed the opportunity to be out of doors as well, and often took a book with me to read in the sun while the Professor watched over my charge. I admit without guilt that spying on them together was often times more interesting than whatever book I had selected that day.
At the end of every day, he would return to our rooms and visit with Miss Granger for at least an hour and a half, following the same routine his other visits had in the past. Although I wasn’t privy to their conversations, I was aware of his actions when he spoke with her. He always treated her with such deference; it was almost heartbreaking.
The minute Professor Snape looked into her eyes, it was impossible not to see the connection between them. He didn’t so much look as dive, if you know what I mean. Even when he was making polite and superficial conversation with me, his eyes would search her out, running constantly over her face almost as if he never really believed she was there. He would sit in front of her if she was in her armchair, lean forward and just fall into her mind. Her color always looked better when he was with her, as if she had been dusted with gold. Even his austere features took on a different light; his pale skin glowing like the moon, reflecting the glory of the sun.
He would never start out touching her during his visits, but by the end would often be holding her hands. Sometimes, he would reach out and silently brush her hair behind her ears, or stroke a gentle finger down her cheek. I often saw him smile, the expression at once seeming so foreign and yet so perfect on his stern features I wondered why he didn’t do it more often. Perhaps, in his every day existence without her, he had no reason to.
He never really seemed to realize that I was there when he was with her, and I was always hesitant to remind him. I would normally just putter around the suite or sit quietly in the small alcove that substituted as a miniature library and read. Sometimes, if the hour would grow very late, I would approach them and gently tap him on the shoulder.
‘I apologize for the interruption Professor Snape, Miss Granger,’ I would say, ‘but it’s past midnight, and I know you have class tomorrow, sir.’
He would always break away from her with reluctance, and I could tell he hated leaving her alone.
One evening when Professor Snape was there, Poppy stopped by to visit. She said she came to ‘Have a spot of tea with her baby sister’, but I knew she was really there to see what was going on. I managed to drag her through to the alcove fairly quickly, positioning her so neither Miss Granger nor Professor Snape were in her line of vision.
‘So, Nettie,’ she began, after squirming around for a few minutes, trying to figure out a way to turn around without appearing obvious, before finally giving up. ‘I expected to see more of you while you were here!’
I smiled, ‘Poppy, you know I can’t leave Miss Granger alone.’
‘It would be nice if you would circulate a bit more, get to know the girls.’
How to tell her I didn’t really want to get to know ‘the girls’ - they seemed like a bunch of irritating, nosey gossips to me. Instead, I remained politely silent. Poppy frowned at me.
‘Would it kill you to make an effort to get to know them better? They’re very concerned about Hermione.’
‘I’m sure they are,’ I responded, ‘but they have no reason to be. Professor McGonagall has been by to visit a couple of times - she could tell you the same thing.’
‘There are... rumors... that Severus takes her for walks around the garden. Professor Sprout was telling me she saw him carrying her to the lake.’
‘She likes to get outside,’ I agreed. ‘I doubt you’d want to be cooped up inside all day if you didn’t have to be. Fresh air is good for her.’
Poppy raised her eyebrow dubiously, ‘You never go with them. Aren’t you supposed to be their chaperone, or at least her nurse? We all heard how Harry discovered them the day you came here.’
I tried to keep calm, I really did, but this was getting to be too much. ‘Young Mr. Potter has been spreading tales out of school, has he?’ I asked waspishly. ‘I swear, that boy needs a smack to the back of the head! Do you think Professor Snape is going to harm the girl?’
Poppy didn’t answer, and I rolled my eyes at her. ‘Honestly, Poppy! Sometimes you are too much. After everything that man did during the war, after the way he almost died trying to save Potter, what do you think he actually plans on doing? Molesting her? Forcing his attentions on her when no one is watching? What?’
Poppy had the grace to blush, ‘No, I don’t think he’d hurt her. We’ve just never seen Severus act this way before and we’re concerned.’
‘Act what way,’ I snapped back, ‘like a human being? Why shouldn’t he want to help her? I think he’s probably the only one here who understands what true solitude is all about. That man wears his isolation like a shield, and no one else seems to want to break through it. Why shouldn’t he want to talk with Hermione? She probably knows him better than anyone else, at this point.’
‘What are you saying?’ Poppy huffed back, her face settling into the tight lines of annoyance I recognized from childhood.
‘I am saying,’ I enunciated each word slowly, ‘that the bunch of you are more content to just tease the poor man and cackle like hens behind his back. I am saying you would rather listen to salacious gossip and innuendo then to actually try to get the facts. I’m sure you care for him in your own way, Poppy, but I don’t think anyone here has ever really forgiven him for the role he played in the war. You’re all so used to seeing him as expendable, that you never tried to see the real man behind the act. Why can’t you all just leave him alone, and keep the gossip to other less important things?’
‘Why not indeed, Madame Pomfrey. That’s a question I ask myself everyday.’ Professor Snape's dry voice made both Poppy and I jump, both of us flushing guiltily. I wondered how long he had been standing there, listening to our conversation, and hoped it hadn’t been for too long. I’m sure some of the things Poppy had said would be hurtful to him.
‘Professor Snape, sir,’ I managed to choke out, ‘I didn’t realize you had finished your visit with Hermione. It’s rather earlier than normal.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed pleasantly, although his voice remained cool. ‘Hermione had something she wanted me to discuss with you, although I didn’t realize your - sister - was here.’
The way he said ‘sister’ was a sneer, his lips curling in distaste around the word as his snapping black eyes pinned Poppy to her seat. ‘Is there anything you wish to say to me, Poppy?’
Even though I was exceedingly irritated with her at this moment, I still felt a twinge of empathy as she cringed under Professor Snape’s glare.
‘No... nothing, Severus. Nothing at all. Nettie here... well, Nettie...’
‘Has defended my honor quite well. I heard. Don’t you have something better to do than sit here and try to cause trouble? Perhaps an irritating little dunderhead needs the kind of medical attention only you can provide.’
Poppy had the grace to look chagrined, ‘Severus, you know I don’t believe...’ She trailed off miserably, glancing quickly at me before standing. ‘It’s just talk, Severus. No one means anything by it.’
Professor Snape nodded his head slightly, ‘Good evening, Poppy.’
She reached out a hand and patted him contritely on the shoulder as she walked by, still unable to meet his gaze. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Nettie,’ she mumbled as she closed the door behind her.
I slowly turned to face Professor Snape after she had left. The man hadn’t said anything to me yet, but I was waiting for what I was sure was going to be a severe dressing down. I was very surprised then, when he merely asked if he could sit in the chair recently vacated by Poppy.
‘Do you do that often?’ he asked quietly as he sat, minutely adjusting the cuffs of his robe with his elegant fingers.
‘Do what?’ I responded weakly. I found myself enthralled with his hands. ‘Talk to my sister?’
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say his snort sounded suspiciously like a choked laugh. ‘Find yourself in the position of defending me,’ he clarified.
I allowed myself to look at him and realized he didn’t appear angry. In fact, he seemed curious. I shook my head, ‘Not all that often. But then again, I haven’t talked much to anyone except Miss Granger since we arrived.’
The man smiled slightly at that, ‘Yes, Hermione tells me you’re keeping her great company when I’m in class. She particularly appreciates the daily readings of Wuthering Heights. She’s taken on the notion that I am a fitting portrait of a real life Heathcliff.’
I smiled at that, ‘The similarities are uncanny, sir.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed. All in all, this was turning into a very pleasant - if surreal - conversation. There was a moment’s comfortable silence, before he leaned forward slightly and rested his elbows on his knees.
‘Madame Pomfrey,’ he began, but I quickly interrupted him.
‘Please sir, call me Nettie. Madame Pomfrey is my mother or sister. Not me.’
He nodded his acquiescence, ‘Nettie then, I have a... favor... to ask of you.’
I waited, trying to keep my open curiosity from showing on my face, ‘Yes sir?’
‘You know I am trying to find a way to bring Miss Granger out of this curse,’ he began, obviously uncomfortable with what he was about to discuss. I simply nodded again, and waited for him to continue.
‘Miss Granger believes that if I were to... kiss her... she may wake up.’
I couldn’t help but smile, ‘Like Sleeping Beauty, sir?’
‘Exactly,’ he responded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I don’t think it will work. As a matter of fact, I am almost positive it won’t, but she is very insistent that we leave no stone unturned.’
‘Indeed not,’ I concurred. ‘If it works in fairy tales, who is to say it won’t work in real life? So, what did you need to discuss with me?’
Professor Snape cleared his throat, ‘I am - aware - that you are here not only to provide care for Miss Granger, but also to make sure that nothing untoward happens between us, and...’
‘Pish tosh, sir!’ I cut in. ‘As if you would ever do anything improper to her. Don’t ever let yourself think I believe that for a minute. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt a hair on her head.’
He looked at me for a moment, decidedly nonplussed by my firm declaration, ‘I am not a nice man, Nettie. I have done many... far worse, things in my life.’ That last part was said softly, as if he were ashamed.
‘We’ve all done things we wish we hadn’t,’ I replied. ‘You’re no longer the man you were back when you first joined Voldemort. I daresay you’re not even the man you were 8 days ago, when you found Miss Granger. You don’t need to confess your sins to me.’
Professor Snape said nothing for a moment, before he bowed his head. ‘How can you be so sure I won’t hurt her?’ His voice was low, almost as if he was making a plea. I suppose he was, in his way. If ever a man needed someone to believe in him unconditionally, it was Professor Snape.
I sighed, ‘I’ve got eyes, don’t I? It’s obvious to anyone who cares to look past their own myopic prejudices that you care for Miss Granger. I trust implicitly that you would die before you would allow her to be harmed.’
He nodded at that, ‘I won’t let anything hurt her.’
‘I know it, sir. So - Miss Granger wants you to kiss her does she? I always heard she was a smart one.’ I grinned at the sudden flush that crept up his neck.
‘It is purely to rule out the possibility that it might work,’ he began, but I laughed.
‘Of course,’ I grinned at him cheekily. ‘I think she might love you, Professor Snape.’
‘The deluded girl,’ he muttered quietly, but there was a blush on his cheeks. ‘And please, call me Severus.’
Chapter Thirteen: SNAPE
It had been quite a day. Snape sighed as he sank into the armchair in his sitting room, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, trying to stem the migraine he could feel pushing to the forefront.
He didn’t want to take a potion for it, because he needed to be clear-headed to think.
Nothing had gone today as he thought it would, starting from the time he woke up, to his reluctant return to his own lonely rooms.
Tomorrow he was going to kiss Hermione.
She had been after him all week to do it, of course, trying to drive him over the brink with her soft touches and trembling lips, her theories that perhaps she was living in some type of fairy tale.
He knew it wouldn’t work. His kiss would not wake her up - she might be beautiful, but he was no one’s Prince Charming.
The very thought made him smirk darkly.
He knew what she was trying to do, and he honestly couldn’t blame her. Being trapped as she was, with no means of release and limited physical contact, would be terrifying. She had convinced herself that she wanted him - him of all people - and it didn’t seem he could dissuade her otherwise. Not that he really wanted to.
It was hard denying himself the very thing his heart yearned for. After tomorrow, he didn’t think he would be able to do it for much longer, if at all.
Putting off his desires, while at the same time trying to ignore hers, had been hard enough over the last week, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.
She really was a remarkable woman. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back on his chair, he remembered her sweet voice, ‘I love you, Severus... You’re the best part of this whole mess - you’re my silver lining.’
As long as he could remember, no one had ever loved him before. It scared him to the very depth of his being, more so than those last horrifying months as Dumbledore’s spy had scared him, more so than facing down Voldemort in that final battle. She had power over him no one else had ever had and he was terrified of losing her.
What if he did manage to free her? What then? Despite her protestations of love would the sudden reversal of the curse, coupled with her freedom to have her pick of young men, change her interests? He couldn’t help but think that it would.
The irrational, bitter part of himself indulged in the scenario that might play out if he played the part of what everyone seemed to think he was - a horrible monster. In that case he wouldn’t free her at all - he would keep her all to himself and no one would ever be the wiser except him. Then he wouldn’t need to worry about losing her. The thought, while briefly tantalizing, was one he could never truly consider. He loved her enough to let her go, if it came right down to it. He couldn’t contemplate living without her any longer, yet it was a chance he had to take. He couldn’t leave her like that.
He sighed again and decided a small glass of firewhiskey wouldn’t be amiss. His thoughts were maudlin tonight, tinged with uncertainty and a deep aching loneliness. He needed her. He felt more real inside her mind then he did at any other time, and leaving her there to come out and face the so-called real world was becoming more and more difficult.
It didn’t help that the only person who really seemed to believe that he had found Hermione was Nettie Pomfrey, of all people. He had been startled to realize that he had - perhaps - found a friend in her, a confidant as it were.
Potter didn’t believe him - that was a given. Snape knew the younger man showed up every day to visit with Hermione and grill Nettie. Neither woman had told him this, of course. He had simply overheard Potter talking to Hagrid about it a few days ago. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he had heard his name - and old habits die hard. He had been a spy, for Merlin’s sake! That would never change.
He had been in the library, retrieving a book on ancient Latin curses, when he had spotted Potter and Hagrid sitting at one of the larger tables. He knew what Hagrid was doing there, of course - the giant man had asked him just that morning if he knew of any books that described the proper care for sick Chimera.
Snape, of course, didn’t. ‘I would suggest you look in the library, Hagrid,’ he had suggested coldly. ‘Although I doubt they’d have anything there either. Those - things - are an outlawed creature, remember?’
Hagrid had looked at his thumbs and tried to effect an air of innocence, ‘I’m not sayin' I ‘ave one! Jus’ curious, is all, as to wot I would do if a sickun ever came in my possession, see?’
So, Hagrid had taken Snape’s advice, and Potter - well, the brat was obviously there to stir up trouble.
‘She does look better, Hagrid,’ Potter was saying, ‘but how do we know Snape wasn’t the one in the first place to make her look so ill and then reverse the charm afterwards to make her look like she was getting better because of him?’
‘But ‘arry,’ Hagrid rumbled at the younger man, ‘why would ‘e do it, eh?’
‘I don’t know, but I don’t trust him,’ Potter replied. ‘I’m not saying he purposely wants to hurt her or anything. Albus said that Snape was telling the truth about talking to her - but he could’ve just made her up in his head. He could really believe he is talking to her, in which case Albus would say he’s telling the truth, right? I think he might be going crazy.’
‘But the test, ‘arry.....’ began the giant, before being interrupted.
‘That so-called test was a joke. Albus asks everyone if they want lemon drops - and he never did make Snape specify what else he had said. Even Hooch and Minerva agree with me on that.’
‘S’ true...’ Hagrid amended, slowly.
‘And,” Harry plowed ahead, ‘Madame Pomfrey told me herself that she’s never heard of a case like this, and that it should be impossible for someone to be alive in their head and only one legilimens can talk to them. Doesn’t that sound suspicious? Don’t you wanna know what Snape’s up to?’
If the half-giant answered, Snape didn’t know. He had stopped listening by then. He didn’t need to hear anymore.
He was used to being the subject of gossip and speculation, but that didn’t make it any more palatable. Two decades of subterfuge had worked against him, and even though he had won an Order of Merlin, First Class for Services Meritorious to the Light, he was still seen as an evil ex-Death Eater far too familiar with the Dark Arts for anyone to be truly comfortable in his presence. Even Albus, at times, seemed to doubt him - and Albus knew him better than anybody else - or had, until Hermione.
The problem, it seemed to him, was not only that no one seemed to believe him, but that no one wanted to believe him. He couldn’t really fault them for that - it was bad enough thinking Hermione was lost to them, but to learn she was trapped; that she could hear and see everything going on around her but couldn’t make contact; was deeply horrifying.
Snape resigned himself to the rumors spreading throughout Hogwarts and was determined to only allow himself to gloat only a little when he finally saved Hermione and everyone learned the truth.
Albus spoke with him almost daily to discuss his progress, but the rest of his colleagues avoided the topic of Hermione and her return to the point of irritation. They never asked him how she was doing, what he was doing - nothing. But he knew they talked about it behind his back. Their lack of forthrightness shouldn’t have offended him, but it did. He had never given them reason to distrust him or think he would hurt anyone under his care, yet their speculation remained.
Only Nettie Pomfrey seemed to trust him. Snape found this vaguely disconcerting - that a woman he barely knew and hadn’t been overly pleasant with seemed to know he wouldn’t hurt Hermione, when people who had known him for years questioned his motives in helping her.
His talk this evening with Nettie had been illuminating, to say the least. He had been amazed to see her defending him against her sister, of all people. He had assumed they were thick as thieves, sharing the gossip and innuendo with each other like the nattering hens he had thought they were. It was amazing to him that she had managed to see through his shields and pretenses to the very core of him - and that what she saw hadn’t disturbed her in the least.
“I think he’s probably the only one here who understands what true solitude is all about,’ she had said. ‘That man wears his isolation like a shield, and no one else seems to want to break through it. Why shouldn’t he want to talk with Hermione? She probably knows him better than anyone else, at this point.’
Knowing where she stood on the matter had made talking to her easier. Hermione had been correct in saying that Nettie could be a friend. At the very least, Snape now felt very strongly that she was on their side. When he had told her about Hermione’s idea, she had laughed and said she knew her charge was smart. That had been it.
So, Snape was going to kiss Hermione Granger tomorrow and Nettie Pomfrey, the de facto chaperone of the woman in question, was not only not going to tell anybody about it, but she was actually in cahoots with him for planning it.
Incredible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
His stomach was in knots. He didn’t think he could do this - not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew it wouldn’t work. And even though he knew it wouldn’t work, he also realized he would still be disappointed when it didn’t. Damn it all!
He had been in Hermione’s suite of rooms for 30 minutes already; had downed three cups of hot tea with lemon while nervously sitting in the armchair beside Hermione’s bed. Nettie had informed him earlier she thought ‘the kiss’ would be easier if Hermione were reclining in her own bed and not sitting awkwardly on the sofa in the front room.
It lent a surprising intimacy to the situation Snape hadn’t been anticipating.
Hermione had been excited to see him. ‘I thought I would have to send Nettie to get you,’ she had teased when he had first arrived.
‘I’d like to see you try,’ he had retorted dryly. ‘Before we do this, we need to lay some ground rules.’
‘Ground rules?’
Snape had shifted uncomfortably, pulling at the cuffs on his frock coat, ‘I won’t be in your mind when I kiss you.’
Hermione had frowned at that, ‘Why not?’
‘I need to be totally focused on what is happening,’ he replied. ‘I need to be able to analyze it and I don’t think I’ll be able to think properly if I’m in your mind while I’m kissing you.’
‘Am I that distracting?’ Hermione had queried, her voice sweetly innocent and seductive at the same time.
He had merely stared at her, his gaze hard, ‘You know you are.’
‘Fine,’ she had smiled back, ‘but I want a full report when you return - that is, if it doesn’t work.’
‘Hermione, I trust that you aren’t counting on this as a cure. I would hate for you to be disappointed.’
‘You could never disappoint me,’ she returned, biting her lip as she did so. ‘I don’t expect miracles.’ She reached out and ran her small hand against his cheek, ‘Now go and kiss me, before you lose your nerve.’
Easier said than done. He felt quite uncomfortable, sitting there with Nettie standing guard in the doorway. She had asked him if she should leave, but he had requested her presence in case anyone burst in and tried to punch him in the nose, as had happened the last time.
He shifted to the side of her bed, sitting gingerly and facing her, his hip pressed against hers. Her hands, which had been lying across her stomach, had shifted when he sat down, one falling to her side and the other into his lap. He picked it up carefully, studying the dainty fingers and the small, square palm, before bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it.
Her hand was exceedingly cold. Leaning forward slightly, he studied her face, lifting the hand that wasn’t holding hers to trace the contours of her chin and cheekbones, his index finger running lightly over her eyebrows. The desire to look into her cinnamon eyes and fall into their depths was overwhelming. Shutting his eyes against her, he took a deep breath before allowing his hand to continue its deft exploration. Her lips felt soft and plump against his finger as he traced the little dent in her upper lip. Freeing his other hand from hers, he ran it gently up her arm and into her hair, cradling the back of her head in his long fingers.
‘I’m going to kiss you now, Hermione,’ he whispered, leaning forward and allowing his lips to brush lightly against hers. He was surprised at how cold they were.
Applying a bit more pressure, he waited for something to happen.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Sighing internally, he went to pull away and suddenly felt a strong arc of electricity - a jolt which caused him to jump slightly and open his eyes again, looking into her own. Something had grabbed him.
He was falling.
Her lips were cold.
Her lips were warm.
Beneath his hands, she lay motionless.
She was pressed against him, her sweet mouth opening under his.
His lips were dry and tight.
Wet, so wet. Gods, her tongue was delicious.
Nothing was happening.
He was being swept away on a current of desire so intense it left him reeling.
His hands were still in her hair.
His hands were no longer in her hair, but wrapped around her waist tightly.
Her hands were still, one on the bed, the other on his knee.
Her hands were on him, running through his hair, running around his back - pressing tightly against his chest.
He was silent.
He was gasping her name, ‘Hermione....’
She was unresponsive.
She was a firecracker in his arms, ‘Severus! Please, don’t stop kissing me!’
He was going crazy.
She was driving him mad.
Gasping, he pulled himself away and out of her mind, his sudden movement almost making him fall off the bed. His blood was surging hotly through his veins. He wanted to dive back into her mind and finish what she had started when she had pulled him in.
He was furious she hadn’t listened to him.
He was ecstatic she hadn’t listened to him.
She was as still as death, lying there on the bed. His kiss had not woken her up.
‘Are you all right, Severus...sir,’ he heard Nettie inquire as if from a great distance, and his shoulders slumped.
‘It didn’t work, Nettie.’
‘You didn’t expect it to,’ her voice was calm, reasonable. He turned his head slightly and looked at her, his expression grim.
‘I wanted it to, though.’
She didn’t say anything to that, just smiled at him sadly. ‘I suspect Miss Granger is just as disappointed as you are. Go talk to her, Severus. I’ll get you a cup of tea.’
Entering her mind was becoming easier and easier. The first time he had done this, it had been like falling through mud - sticky and uncomfortable - yet, each successive visit became easier and easier. Now, it was simply a matter of looking into her eyes and stepping through air.
Hermione was waiting where she had left him, her face flushed and her hair wild above it. Her lips were rosy and plump from his kisses and she reached out for him the minute she saw him.
‘Severus.’
He wanted to grab her. He wanted to continue where he had left off. He could still taste her against his mouth, still feel the heat of her pressed against him. Instead, he glared at her.
‘What was that?’
She looked confused, ‘What was what?’
‘You weren’t supposed to pull me in. I was trying to be objective.’ His voice was harsh with suppressed anger and thwarted desire.
Hermione looked stunned, ‘I didn’t pull you in. You were kissing me - my lips - I could feel you. Nothing was happening. And then you were suddenly here kissing me, and it was....wonderful!’
‘You pulled me in,’ he reiterated. ‘I felt it, Hermione.’
‘I didn’t,’ she retorted, moving closer to him. He could feel her heat radiating from his in waves. ‘I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t even looking at you, just - feeling. You felt so good, Severus.’ Her voice had dropped an octave, the seductive whisper trailing up his spine and making him shiver. ‘Please, kiss me again.’
Her arms were reaching out to him, her face flushed. He watched the rapid beating of her heart in the hollow of her throat with fascination.
‘Hermione,’ he whispered, allowing himself to grasp her hands and pull her to him, ‘we shouldn’t be doing this.’
‘Yes, we should,’ she replied as her mouth met his again, gently this time, and so sweet it made his knees buckle. ‘No one is here but us, there’s only you and I. I’ve wanted this for so long, Severus. No one will ever know.’
He was weakening. He knew he was, but Merlin’s balls! She was so addictive.
‘No one will ever know,’ he agreed, as her hands pulled free of his, her fingers finding the clasped buttons on his frock coat and quickly undoing them before, before sliding under the dark material to his back.
He thought his heart would burst from adrenaline and joy as he wrapped his arms around her and leaned in to kiss her once again. ‘I love you, Hermione.’
‘I know,’ she replied.
He had stayed with her the rest of the day, enjoying their conversations and their silences. They had picnicked in the garden and walked along the lakeside before returning to his study, sharing a camaraderie tinged with such acceptance and affection, he had a hard time believing it was directed at himself. She was a wonder, a shiny prism refracting the light around her and shining into all the dark places of his soul.
The tea Nettie had brought for him had remained cold and untouched on the night table, as had the sandwich she provided. Snape hadn’t even heard her return. Finally, as the sun was sliding down beyond the horizon, he pulled himself from Hermione’s arms, despite her protests.
‘Stay.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can.’
‘I need to think, Hermione, while everything is still fresh in my mind. Besides, Albus is expecting me in the Great Hall for dinner tonight. I’m probably already late.’
‘Promise me you’ll come back.’
‘I’ll come back.’
Now, sitting in the Great Hall, staring forlornly in to his soup, he realized he was... content. It was a foreign concept for him - he had never been content in his life. Hermione loved him. He didn’t doubt it any longer - he couldn’t. Curse or no curse, she loved him and he - well, suffice it to say he felt lost without her. Just knowing that he could return to her, slide into the sweet haven of her mind and converse with her, hold her in his arms... the very thought made him smile.
He glanced around nervously to see if anyone had seen him grinning like an idiot at his soup spoon and sighed when he realized they were all to busy with their meals to notice him.
Unless... was that Sybil Trelawney, staring at him? What was she doing out of her tower? Her eyes looked excessively large through the thickness of her glasses, her brow pinched in concentration as she studied him. He frowned at her, but she just smiled that dopey smile of hers before leaning across Sprout and letting her beads drag into her soup.
‘Professor Snape... Severus,’ she began, in that high lilting tone he so detested, ‘What have you done to yourself?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sybil.’ His voice was cold but he shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
‘There’s something different about your aura today,’ she continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. Her myopic eyes continued to study him. ‘It’s full of color.’
Snape rolled his eyes at her, and Sprout tittered, ‘Color, Sybil? Whatever do you mean?’
‘Don’t get her started, Sprout,’ Snape hissed, but it was already too late.
‘Everyone’s aura is a different color,’ Sybil turned her glance towards Sprout. ‘You, Pomona, are always shades of green, with other strong earth tones mixed into it. Your aura represents you - your love of nature, your ability to grow things...your love for the outdoors. Our dear Albus is mostly purple, the wisest of the aura colors, with flecks of gold overlaying it. The purple represents his strong magical powers and the gold shows he is always working for the highest good - Albus has a very powerful aura indeed.’
She paused and turned squarely back to look at Snape, her eyes no longer quite so vacant but shrewd and assessing. All the other professors were listening now, leaning forward in anticipation.
‘Professor Snape here, almost without exception, has almost always been black - the color of anger, resentment, unhappiness and pain. He’s also had flashes of purple to indicate his strong magical abilities - but now! My dear young man, are you in love?’
Snape almost choked. To his left, he could hear Hooch cackle and Minerva was gazing at the back of his head with such ferocity he thought she might sever it from his neck. He scowled at Trelawney. ‘Pardon me, Madam?’
‘Your aura is pulsing with life,’ she replied, in her irritating droning nasal, ‘it’s full of color! Red, clear and intense, for passion. Pink, for love and sensual bliss. Orange, for stamina and creative or sexual energy and yellow for contentment. Your aura tells me you are - happy.’
Her pronouncement was met with silence. His colleagues were staring at him with various expressions of shock and amusement on their faces. No one said anything for a minute and then Hooch asked, her voice full of insinuation, ‘Did you visit with Hermione this morning, Severus?’
Snape didn’t even take the time to glare at her. His mind was whirling - colors, Trelawney saw colors around him. Merlin’s balls and Circe’s teeth! Colors! Looking up at Trelawney, he pinned her with his eyes.
‘What does gray mean, woman?’ he barked, his jaw tight with intensity.
‘Gray?’ Trelawney echoed, ‘gray is the division of self from spirit. A blocking of energies and soul. Gray is the color of unfulfilled life.’
Snape rose abruptly as she spoke, pushing his chair away from the table with a loud bang as he reached out and grabbed Trelawney’s arm. He needed to take her to Hermione right away. The divination dingbat had embarrassed him beyond all endurance, but she had given him a clue to the curse - the biggest clue yet.
Peter Gabriel - In Your Eyes
love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are
all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes
love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
Chapter Twelve: NETTIE
As much as I loved my sister, I hated living in the same building as her, even when said building was a castle as large as Hogwarts. You see, Poppy is the eldest sister and I am the baby of the family. We have two sisters in the middle - Marigold and Petunia - but Poppy doesn’t treat either of them like they’re half-wits. That’s a pleasure she reserves solely for me.
I suppose it’s partly my fault. She does love to boss and tell people what to do and I have become so used to it over the years, I suppose I just naturally fill my role as the youngest sister. Normally, I don’t let it bother me. I just listen to her and sometimes I’ll do as she asks and sometimes I won’t. But I never tell her to mind her own business, or to take her advice and shove it somewhere painful and wholly inappropriate.
I wish I’d done that this time.
Of course, I haven’t lived in close proximity to her for years, so there’s never been the need. That, and I don’t like confrontation, more’s the pity. It started the same day I arrived at Hogwarts with Miss Granger. After I had gotten her settled in our new suite of rooms, Poppy had made an appearance to ‘see how I was coping’ with the move. In reality, she had come to spy and she had brought several compatriots with her.
I had heard stories from her in the past about her colleagues but had never really met any of them before, with the exception of Professor Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall. I had met Professor McGonagall twice prior, when she had visited Miss Granger at St. Mungo’s.
So, there I was with Miss Granger. Professor Snape had left just a little earlier, indicating he would return after ‘discussing with Potter and Albus what he was hoping to accomplish with Hermione.’ His tone had been so dry when he told me this I knew right away this meeting was not his idea - I rather suspected that Mr. Potter needed further reassurance regarding Professor Snape’s intentions towards my young charge. Mentally, I wished him luck. From the suspicious way Potter had been looking at him most of the day, I suspected he was going to need it just to keep control of his temper.
The last thing I had wanted was to have a roost of gossipy old hens descend upon me my first day back at Hogwarts without so much as one word of warning, led by my sister. The door to the chambers was open and I could hear them coming before I saw them, their voices and slow foot steps echoing down the stone corridor.
‘It was dreadful!’ Poppy was saying, ‘There I was, tidying up, when Professor Snape burst through my floo like a wraith. You should have seen him, white shirt and dried blood down his chin, and carrying Miss Granger too! I nearly had a fainting spell.’
‘Blood down his chin? From what?’ an unidentified female voice asked curiously.
‘Harry punched him in the nose!’ Poppy replied, aghast.
There was a chorus of titters and one voice muttered what sounded like, ‘Wouldn’t make much difference.’
The sound of Poppy’s throat clearing took back the attention of her audience. ‘Apparently, he found Snape in a rather intimate position with Hermione, and had to pull them apart.’
There were several exaggerated gasps and one clear cackle among the voices. Poppy’s salacious tone and the willing ears of her cohorts to listen to such nonsense made my blood boil. Intimate position indeed!
‘Don’t fret dears, Nettie will tell us what’s going on,’ Poppy concluded sagely. ‘We’ll get the scoop from her - she’s been brought to make sure Hermione isn’t... taken advantage of.’
Of all the nerve! I looked at Miss Granger and bit the inside of my cheek, trying for a welcoming smile, even though inside I was fuming. ‘Here come the hoards, my dear. I hope you’re ready... I know I’m not.’
Professor Snape had left Miss Granger in the living area, arranged comfortably in an overstuffed armchair, for all appearances as if she were waiting for a cup of tea. I had assumed he would immediately carry her to her room and place her in bed, and had been a little surprised he hadn’t done so. When I had asked him what he was doing, he had stated flatly that, ‘Hermione was not bedridden, and therefore did not wish to be imprisoned in her bedroom for the duration of her stay.’
Can’t say I didn’t blame her. The walls in her room were quite boring.
When Poppy and her herd entered our suite, it was amusing to note the look of surprise on all their faces when they saw Miss Granger sitting there waiting for them.
‘Nettie, what is Hermione doing out of bed?’ Poppy squawked, quickly looking my way before turning to Miss Granger again.
‘Hello Poppy. Ladies,’ I nodded, my voice professional and polite. ‘Miss Granger wanted to sit out here for a while.’
‘Told you that, did she?’ a witch I didn’t know leered at me.
‘No, she told Professor Snape,’ I replied coolly.
‘Right,’ the same witch responded, rolling her shrewd yellow eyes, ‘I just bet she did.’
The other witches started talking all at once, ‘Poppy, do you really think...’, ‘I can’t believe Dumbledore...’, ‘That poor boy, no wonder he punched Snape...’, ‘Is she really, well you know...’, ‘I always knew he’d go off the bend someday...’
I was quite taken aback by all the noise. Poppy moved closer to me and tsked under her breath, ‘That man doesn’t have the sense the gods gave a goat. Hermione is in no state to be sitting up, as if she were taking visitors. Nettie dear, help me move her back to her room.’
‘No,’ I replied, quite firmly. ‘Miss Granger is fine right where she is, aren’t you dear?’ I patted the younger woman’s hand as I spoke, showing her I had no indication of allowing her to be moved anywhere.
‘Really, Nettie, as the head medi-witch here at Hogwarts, I must insist...’
‘You will do no such thing,’ I retorted. ‘I am here to care for Miss Granger, not to work for you. She is my charge, and she has indicated she does not wish to go to her room. Until Professor Snape returns and is able to tell me otherwise, she will remain here.’
The other witches in the room had stopped clucking and were watching me with interest.
‘Do you really believe she’s trapped in her mind?’ one tiny little witch inquired curiously, her wizened face reminding me of the apple dolls my mother used to make.
‘I am sure of it,’ I retorted stoutly. ‘Professor Snape does not strike me as the type of man to make things up. And since he found her this morning, her condition has quite improved.’
‘Still looks like she’s in a coma to me,’ the witch with the weird eyes muttered sarcastically.
‘That’s because she is still in a coma,’ Poppy replied imperiously. ‘Really, Nettie - how can you say she’s improved?’
I bristled under her superior attitude and big-sister tone. ‘Because she has,’ I snapped. ‘This morning she was dying, which you would have known if any of you ever bothered to visit her.’ I glanced apologetically at Professor McGonagall as I said this, but continued none-the-less. ‘Her hair was brittle and falling out, her arms and legs were twisted in on themselves - even her skin was a hideous gray. But look at her now! Since Professor Snape found her and spoke with her, she’s had a remarkable turnaround. That’s how I know she’s there.’
‘She couldn’t have been as bad as all that,’ Poppy started, but I interrupted.
‘Are you questioning my abilities as a medi-witch?’ I demanded. ‘You think I don’t know what a dying person looks like?’
‘Now Nettie, I didn’t say that...’ Poppy began, ‘I just question if you have become to close to Miss Granger and her situation. Perhaps you were imagining she was worse than she actually was.’
‘I don’t imagine things,’ was my flat response. ‘I know what I saw. Professor Snape came back and saved her.’
‘What do you mean, came back?’ a rotund, earthy looking witch asked suddenly. ‘He stopped visiting?’
‘He was recuperating from his accident,’ my voice had grown stony. I was not about to start sharing stories with any of these ladies, as I didn’t really know why his visits had stopped for their extended duration, and I wasn’t about to start hypothesizing.
‘Are you telling us he hadn’t been to see her for three weeks?’ McGonagall’s voice was frankly shocked.
‘He’s been fine enough to apparate for a couple of weeks now,’ Poppy added, looking at me shrewdly. ‘What aren’t you telling us, Nettie?’
I shrugged, ‘Nothing that concerns you, believe me.’
Poppy sniffed at me. ‘You seem to be a little short today, Nettie. I trust that it’s just the stress of relocating to Hogwarts and nothing too serious. I suppose I should be getting back to the infirmary. I’ll see you tomorrow?’
I nodded in assent, ‘You know where I am.’ I smiled politely at the other witches, ‘Ladies.’
It didn’t take them long to leave, for which I was grateful. But their voices continued to linger as they returned the way they came down the corridor. I couldn’t help but suppress a shiver from their tone, blatant skepticism and suspicion towards Miss Granger’s savior being the least of what I could hear in their gossip.
Turning back to look at my charge, I smiled grimly. ‘You realize not one of those women bothered to talk to you while they were here, Miss Granger? And none of them even introduced themselves to me. Rude cows!’
Over the course of the next few days, I settled into a nice routine with Miss Granger. Professor Snape became a frequent early morning visitor, stopping by to visit with Miss Granger before breakfast every morning. Quite often, he would actually stay to eat and avoid the great hall altogether, not that I could blame him. From the few tidbits I heard from Poppy when she visited, the rumor mill at Hogwarts was running rampant, and he was the main focus.
Since he always arrived at 7:00 am, I would make sure Miss Granger was up and dressed before his arrival. He had requested on Miss Granger’s behalf that she be allowed to wear normal clothes during the day, and I was happy to fulfill this desire. I didn’t blame the girl for wanting to appear as normal as possible for his visits. And I, always eager to help along a romance in the making, did my best to make sure she looked her best. She really was a very pretty girl when her hair was charmed against frizz.
If the day was pleasant, he would sometimes show up at lunch and put Miss Granger in an old, muggle style wooden wheel chair he had found, wrap a warm blanket around her legs, and take her for walks through the gardens nearest the lake, away from the prying eyes of students and teachers alike. On those occasions when the wheels would get stuck in the mud, he would lift her from the chair as if she were a piece of glass and continue his walk on foot. I knew this because I enjoyed the opportunity to be out of doors as well, and often took a book with me to read in the sun while the Professor watched over my charge. I admit without guilt that spying on them together was often times more interesting than whatever book I had selected that day.
At the end of every day, he would return to our rooms and visit with Miss Granger for at least an hour and a half, following the same routine his other visits had in the past. Although I wasn’t privy to their conversations, I was aware of his actions when he spoke with her. He always treated her with such deference; it was almost heartbreaking.
The minute Professor Snape looked into her eyes, it was impossible not to see the connection between them. He didn’t so much look as dive, if you know what I mean. Even when he was making polite and superficial conversation with me, his eyes would search her out, running constantly over her face almost as if he never really believed she was there. He would sit in front of her if she was in her armchair, lean forward and just fall into her mind. Her color always looked better when he was with her, as if she had been dusted with gold. Even his austere features took on a different light; his pale skin glowing like the moon, reflecting the glory of the sun.
He would never start out touching her during his visits, but by the end would often be holding her hands. Sometimes, he would reach out and silently brush her hair behind her ears, or stroke a gentle finger down her cheek. I often saw him smile, the expression at once seeming so foreign and yet so perfect on his stern features I wondered why he didn’t do it more often. Perhaps, in his every day existence without her, he had no reason to.
He never really seemed to realize that I was there when he was with her, and I was always hesitant to remind him. I would normally just putter around the suite or sit quietly in the small alcove that substituted as a miniature library and read. Sometimes, if the hour would grow very late, I would approach them and gently tap him on the shoulder.
‘I apologize for the interruption Professor Snape, Miss Granger,’ I would say, ‘but it’s past midnight, and I know you have class tomorrow, sir.’
He would always break away from her with reluctance, and I could tell he hated leaving her alone.
One evening when Professor Snape was there, Poppy stopped by to visit. She said she came to ‘Have a spot of tea with her baby sister’, but I knew she was really there to see what was going on. I managed to drag her through to the alcove fairly quickly, positioning her so neither Miss Granger nor Professor Snape were in her line of vision.
‘So, Nettie,’ she began, after squirming around for a few minutes, trying to figure out a way to turn around without appearing obvious, before finally giving up. ‘I expected to see more of you while you were here!’
I smiled, ‘Poppy, you know I can’t leave Miss Granger alone.’
‘It would be nice if you would circulate a bit more, get to know the girls.’
How to tell her I didn’t really want to get to know ‘the girls’ - they seemed like a bunch of irritating, nosey gossips to me. Instead, I remained politely silent. Poppy frowned at me.
‘Would it kill you to make an effort to get to know them better? They’re very concerned about Hermione.’
‘I’m sure they are,’ I responded, ‘but they have no reason to be. Professor McGonagall has been by to visit a couple of times - she could tell you the same thing.’
‘There are... rumors... that Severus takes her for walks around the garden. Professor Sprout was telling me she saw him carrying her to the lake.’
‘She likes to get outside,’ I agreed. ‘I doubt you’d want to be cooped up inside all day if you didn’t have to be. Fresh air is good for her.’
Poppy raised her eyebrow dubiously, ‘You never go with them. Aren’t you supposed to be their chaperone, or at least her nurse? We all heard how Harry discovered them the day you came here.’
I tried to keep calm, I really did, but this was getting to be too much. ‘Young Mr. Potter has been spreading tales out of school, has he?’ I asked waspishly. ‘I swear, that boy needs a smack to the back of the head! Do you think Professor Snape is going to harm the girl?’
Poppy didn’t answer, and I rolled my eyes at her. ‘Honestly, Poppy! Sometimes you are too much. After everything that man did during the war, after the way he almost died trying to save Potter, what do you think he actually plans on doing? Molesting her? Forcing his attentions on her when no one is watching? What?’
Poppy had the grace to blush, ‘No, I don’t think he’d hurt her. We’ve just never seen Severus act this way before and we’re concerned.’
‘Act what way,’ I snapped back, ‘like a human being? Why shouldn’t he want to help her? I think he’s probably the only one here who understands what true solitude is all about. That man wears his isolation like a shield, and no one else seems to want to break through it. Why shouldn’t he want to talk with Hermione? She probably knows him better than anyone else, at this point.’
‘What are you saying?’ Poppy huffed back, her face settling into the tight lines of annoyance I recognized from childhood.
‘I am saying,’ I enunciated each word slowly, ‘that the bunch of you are more content to just tease the poor man and cackle like hens behind his back. I am saying you would rather listen to salacious gossip and innuendo then to actually try to get the facts. I’m sure you care for him in your own way, Poppy, but I don’t think anyone here has ever really forgiven him for the role he played in the war. You’re all so used to seeing him as expendable, that you never tried to see the real man behind the act. Why can’t you all just leave him alone, and keep the gossip to other less important things?’
‘Why not indeed, Madame Pomfrey. That’s a question I ask myself everyday.’ Professor Snape's dry voice made both Poppy and I jump, both of us flushing guiltily. I wondered how long he had been standing there, listening to our conversation, and hoped it hadn’t been for too long. I’m sure some of the things Poppy had said would be hurtful to him.
‘Professor Snape, sir,’ I managed to choke out, ‘I didn’t realize you had finished your visit with Hermione. It’s rather earlier than normal.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed pleasantly, although his voice remained cool. ‘Hermione had something she wanted me to discuss with you, although I didn’t realize your - sister - was here.’
The way he said ‘sister’ was a sneer, his lips curling in distaste around the word as his snapping black eyes pinned Poppy to her seat. ‘Is there anything you wish to say to me, Poppy?’
Even though I was exceedingly irritated with her at this moment, I still felt a twinge of empathy as she cringed under Professor Snape’s glare.
‘No... nothing, Severus. Nothing at all. Nettie here... well, Nettie...’
‘Has defended my honor quite well. I heard. Don’t you have something better to do than sit here and try to cause trouble? Perhaps an irritating little dunderhead needs the kind of medical attention only you can provide.’
Poppy had the grace to look chagrined, ‘Severus, you know I don’t believe...’ She trailed off miserably, glancing quickly at me before standing. ‘It’s just talk, Severus. No one means anything by it.’
Professor Snape nodded his head slightly, ‘Good evening, Poppy.’
She reached out a hand and patted him contritely on the shoulder as she walked by, still unable to meet his gaze. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Nettie,’ she mumbled as she closed the door behind her.
I slowly turned to face Professor Snape after she had left. The man hadn’t said anything to me yet, but I was waiting for what I was sure was going to be a severe dressing down. I was very surprised then, when he merely asked if he could sit in the chair recently vacated by Poppy.
‘Do you do that often?’ he asked quietly as he sat, minutely adjusting the cuffs of his robe with his elegant fingers.
‘Do what?’ I responded weakly. I found myself enthralled with his hands. ‘Talk to my sister?’
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say his snort sounded suspiciously like a choked laugh. ‘Find yourself in the position of defending me,’ he clarified.
I allowed myself to look at him and realized he didn’t appear angry. In fact, he seemed curious. I shook my head, ‘Not all that often. But then again, I haven’t talked much to anyone except Miss Granger since we arrived.’
The man smiled slightly at that, ‘Yes, Hermione tells me you’re keeping her great company when I’m in class. She particularly appreciates the daily readings of Wuthering Heights. She’s taken on the notion that I am a fitting portrait of a real life Heathcliff.’
I smiled at that, ‘The similarities are uncanny, sir.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed. All in all, this was turning into a very pleasant - if surreal - conversation. There was a moment’s comfortable silence, before he leaned forward slightly and rested his elbows on his knees.
‘Madame Pomfrey,’ he began, but I quickly interrupted him.
‘Please sir, call me Nettie. Madame Pomfrey is my mother or sister. Not me.’
He nodded his acquiescence, ‘Nettie then, I have a... favor... to ask of you.’
I waited, trying to keep my open curiosity from showing on my face, ‘Yes sir?’
‘You know I am trying to find a way to bring Miss Granger out of this curse,’ he began, obviously uncomfortable with what he was about to discuss. I simply nodded again, and waited for him to continue.
‘Miss Granger believes that if I were to... kiss her... she may wake up.’
I couldn’t help but smile, ‘Like Sleeping Beauty, sir?’
‘Exactly,’ he responded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I don’t think it will work. As a matter of fact, I am almost positive it won’t, but she is very insistent that we leave no stone unturned.’
‘Indeed not,’ I concurred. ‘If it works in fairy tales, who is to say it won’t work in real life? So, what did you need to discuss with me?’
Professor Snape cleared his throat, ‘I am - aware - that you are here not only to provide care for Miss Granger, but also to make sure that nothing untoward happens between us, and...’
‘Pish tosh, sir!’ I cut in. ‘As if you would ever do anything improper to her. Don’t ever let yourself think I believe that for a minute. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt a hair on her head.’
He looked at me for a moment, decidedly nonplussed by my firm declaration, ‘I am not a nice man, Nettie. I have done many... far worse, things in my life.’ That last part was said softly, as if he were ashamed.
‘We’ve all done things we wish we hadn’t,’ I replied. ‘You’re no longer the man you were back when you first joined Voldemort. I daresay you’re not even the man you were 8 days ago, when you found Miss Granger. You don’t need to confess your sins to me.’
Professor Snape said nothing for a moment, before he bowed his head. ‘How can you be so sure I won’t hurt her?’ His voice was low, almost as if he was making a plea. I suppose he was, in his way. If ever a man needed someone to believe in him unconditionally, it was Professor Snape.
I sighed, ‘I’ve got eyes, don’t I? It’s obvious to anyone who cares to look past their own myopic prejudices that you care for Miss Granger. I trust implicitly that you would die before you would allow her to be harmed.’
He nodded at that, ‘I won’t let anything hurt her.’
‘I know it, sir. So - Miss Granger wants you to kiss her does she? I always heard she was a smart one.’ I grinned at the sudden flush that crept up his neck.
‘It is purely to rule out the possibility that it might work,’ he began, but I laughed.
‘Of course,’ I grinned at him cheekily. ‘I think she might love you, Professor Snape.’
‘The deluded girl,’ he muttered quietly, but there was a blush on his cheeks. ‘And please, call me Severus.’
Chapter Thirteen: SNAPE
It had been quite a day. Snape sighed as he sank into the armchair in his sitting room, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, trying to stem the migraine he could feel pushing to the forefront.
He didn’t want to take a potion for it, because he needed to be clear-headed to think.
Nothing had gone today as he thought it would, starting from the time he woke up, to his reluctant return to his own lonely rooms.
Tomorrow he was going to kiss Hermione.
She had been after him all week to do it, of course, trying to drive him over the brink with her soft touches and trembling lips, her theories that perhaps she was living in some type of fairy tale.
He knew it wouldn’t work. His kiss would not wake her up - she might be beautiful, but he was no one’s Prince Charming.
The very thought made him smirk darkly.
He knew what she was trying to do, and he honestly couldn’t blame her. Being trapped as she was, with no means of release and limited physical contact, would be terrifying. She had convinced herself that she wanted him - him of all people - and it didn’t seem he could dissuade her otherwise. Not that he really wanted to.
It was hard denying himself the very thing his heart yearned for. After tomorrow, he didn’t think he would be able to do it for much longer, if at all.
Putting off his desires, while at the same time trying to ignore hers, had been hard enough over the last week, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.
She really was a remarkable woman. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back on his chair, he remembered her sweet voice, ‘I love you, Severus... You’re the best part of this whole mess - you’re my silver lining.’
As long as he could remember, no one had ever loved him before. It scared him to the very depth of his being, more so than those last horrifying months as Dumbledore’s spy had scared him, more so than facing down Voldemort in that final battle. She had power over him no one else had ever had and he was terrified of losing her.
What if he did manage to free her? What then? Despite her protestations of love would the sudden reversal of the curse, coupled with her freedom to have her pick of young men, change her interests? He couldn’t help but think that it would.
The irrational, bitter part of himself indulged in the scenario that might play out if he played the part of what everyone seemed to think he was - a horrible monster. In that case he wouldn’t free her at all - he would keep her all to himself and no one would ever be the wiser except him. Then he wouldn’t need to worry about losing her. The thought, while briefly tantalizing, was one he could never truly consider. He loved her enough to let her go, if it came right down to it. He couldn’t contemplate living without her any longer, yet it was a chance he had to take. He couldn’t leave her like that.
He sighed again and decided a small glass of firewhiskey wouldn’t be amiss. His thoughts were maudlin tonight, tinged with uncertainty and a deep aching loneliness. He needed her. He felt more real inside her mind then he did at any other time, and leaving her there to come out and face the so-called real world was becoming more and more difficult.
It didn’t help that the only person who really seemed to believe that he had found Hermione was Nettie Pomfrey, of all people. He had been startled to realize that he had - perhaps - found a friend in her, a confidant as it were.
Potter didn’t believe him - that was a given. Snape knew the younger man showed up every day to visit with Hermione and grill Nettie. Neither woman had told him this, of course. He had simply overheard Potter talking to Hagrid about it a few days ago. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he had heard his name - and old habits die hard. He had been a spy, for Merlin’s sake! That would never change.
He had been in the library, retrieving a book on ancient Latin curses, when he had spotted Potter and Hagrid sitting at one of the larger tables. He knew what Hagrid was doing there, of course - the giant man had asked him just that morning if he knew of any books that described the proper care for sick Chimera.
Snape, of course, didn’t. ‘I would suggest you look in the library, Hagrid,’ he had suggested coldly. ‘Although I doubt they’d have anything there either. Those - things - are an outlawed creature, remember?’
Hagrid had looked at his thumbs and tried to effect an air of innocence, ‘I’m not sayin' I ‘ave one! Jus’ curious, is all, as to wot I would do if a sickun ever came in my possession, see?’
So, Hagrid had taken Snape’s advice, and Potter - well, the brat was obviously there to stir up trouble.
‘She does look better, Hagrid,’ Potter was saying, ‘but how do we know Snape wasn’t the one in the first place to make her look so ill and then reverse the charm afterwards to make her look like she was getting better because of him?’
‘But ‘arry,’ Hagrid rumbled at the younger man, ‘why would ‘e do it, eh?’
‘I don’t know, but I don’t trust him,’ Potter replied. ‘I’m not saying he purposely wants to hurt her or anything. Albus said that Snape was telling the truth about talking to her - but he could’ve just made her up in his head. He could really believe he is talking to her, in which case Albus would say he’s telling the truth, right? I think he might be going crazy.’
‘But the test, ‘arry.....’ began the giant, before being interrupted.
‘That so-called test was a joke. Albus asks everyone if they want lemon drops - and he never did make Snape specify what else he had said. Even Hooch and Minerva agree with me on that.’
‘S’ true...’ Hagrid amended, slowly.
‘And,” Harry plowed ahead, ‘Madame Pomfrey told me herself that she’s never heard of a case like this, and that it should be impossible for someone to be alive in their head and only one legilimens can talk to them. Doesn’t that sound suspicious? Don’t you wanna know what Snape’s up to?’
If the half-giant answered, Snape didn’t know. He had stopped listening by then. He didn’t need to hear anymore.
He was used to being the subject of gossip and speculation, but that didn’t make it any more palatable. Two decades of subterfuge had worked against him, and even though he had won an Order of Merlin, First Class for Services Meritorious to the Light, he was still seen as an evil ex-Death Eater far too familiar with the Dark Arts for anyone to be truly comfortable in his presence. Even Albus, at times, seemed to doubt him - and Albus knew him better than anybody else - or had, until Hermione.
The problem, it seemed to him, was not only that no one seemed to believe him, but that no one wanted to believe him. He couldn’t really fault them for that - it was bad enough thinking Hermione was lost to them, but to learn she was trapped; that she could hear and see everything going on around her but couldn’t make contact; was deeply horrifying.
Snape resigned himself to the rumors spreading throughout Hogwarts and was determined to only allow himself to gloat only a little when he finally saved Hermione and everyone learned the truth.
Albus spoke with him almost daily to discuss his progress, but the rest of his colleagues avoided the topic of Hermione and her return to the point of irritation. They never asked him how she was doing, what he was doing - nothing. But he knew they talked about it behind his back. Their lack of forthrightness shouldn’t have offended him, but it did. He had never given them reason to distrust him or think he would hurt anyone under his care, yet their speculation remained.
Only Nettie Pomfrey seemed to trust him. Snape found this vaguely disconcerting - that a woman he barely knew and hadn’t been overly pleasant with seemed to know he wouldn’t hurt Hermione, when people who had known him for years questioned his motives in helping her.
His talk this evening with Nettie had been illuminating, to say the least. He had been amazed to see her defending him against her sister, of all people. He had assumed they were thick as thieves, sharing the gossip and innuendo with each other like the nattering hens he had thought they were. It was amazing to him that she had managed to see through his shields and pretenses to the very core of him - and that what she saw hadn’t disturbed her in the least.
“I think he’s probably the only one here who understands what true solitude is all about,’ she had said. ‘That man wears his isolation like a shield, and no one else seems to want to break through it. Why shouldn’t he want to talk with Hermione? She probably knows him better than anyone else, at this point.’
Knowing where she stood on the matter had made talking to her easier. Hermione had been correct in saying that Nettie could be a friend. At the very least, Snape now felt very strongly that she was on their side. When he had told her about Hermione’s idea, she had laughed and said she knew her charge was smart. That had been it.
So, Snape was going to kiss Hermione Granger tomorrow and Nettie Pomfrey, the de facto chaperone of the woman in question, was not only not going to tell anybody about it, but she was actually in cahoots with him for planning it.
Incredible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
His stomach was in knots. He didn’t think he could do this - not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew it wouldn’t work. And even though he knew it wouldn’t work, he also realized he would still be disappointed when it didn’t. Damn it all!
He had been in Hermione’s suite of rooms for 30 minutes already; had downed three cups of hot tea with lemon while nervously sitting in the armchair beside Hermione’s bed. Nettie had informed him earlier she thought ‘the kiss’ would be easier if Hermione were reclining in her own bed and not sitting awkwardly on the sofa in the front room.
It lent a surprising intimacy to the situation Snape hadn’t been anticipating.
Hermione had been excited to see him. ‘I thought I would have to send Nettie to get you,’ she had teased when he had first arrived.
‘I’d like to see you try,’ he had retorted dryly. ‘Before we do this, we need to lay some ground rules.’
‘Ground rules?’
Snape had shifted uncomfortably, pulling at the cuffs on his frock coat, ‘I won’t be in your mind when I kiss you.’
Hermione had frowned at that, ‘Why not?’
‘I need to be totally focused on what is happening,’ he replied. ‘I need to be able to analyze it and I don’t think I’ll be able to think properly if I’m in your mind while I’m kissing you.’
‘Am I that distracting?’ Hermione had queried, her voice sweetly innocent and seductive at the same time.
He had merely stared at her, his gaze hard, ‘You know you are.’
‘Fine,’ she had smiled back, ‘but I want a full report when you return - that is, if it doesn’t work.’
‘Hermione, I trust that you aren’t counting on this as a cure. I would hate for you to be disappointed.’
‘You could never disappoint me,’ she returned, biting her lip as she did so. ‘I don’t expect miracles.’ She reached out and ran her small hand against his cheek, ‘Now go and kiss me, before you lose your nerve.’
Easier said than done. He felt quite uncomfortable, sitting there with Nettie standing guard in the doorway. She had asked him if she should leave, but he had requested her presence in case anyone burst in and tried to punch him in the nose, as had happened the last time.
He shifted to the side of her bed, sitting gingerly and facing her, his hip pressed against hers. Her hands, which had been lying across her stomach, had shifted when he sat down, one falling to her side and the other into his lap. He picked it up carefully, studying the dainty fingers and the small, square palm, before bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it.
Her hand was exceedingly cold. Leaning forward slightly, he studied her face, lifting the hand that wasn’t holding hers to trace the contours of her chin and cheekbones, his index finger running lightly over her eyebrows. The desire to look into her cinnamon eyes and fall into their depths was overwhelming. Shutting his eyes against her, he took a deep breath before allowing his hand to continue its deft exploration. Her lips felt soft and plump against his finger as he traced the little dent in her upper lip. Freeing his other hand from hers, he ran it gently up her arm and into her hair, cradling the back of her head in his long fingers.
‘I’m going to kiss you now, Hermione,’ he whispered, leaning forward and allowing his lips to brush lightly against hers. He was surprised at how cold they were.
Applying a bit more pressure, he waited for something to happen.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Sighing internally, he went to pull away and suddenly felt a strong arc of electricity - a jolt which caused him to jump slightly and open his eyes again, looking into her own. Something had grabbed him.
He was falling.
Her lips were cold.
Her lips were warm.
Beneath his hands, she lay motionless.
She was pressed against him, her sweet mouth opening under his.
His lips were dry and tight.
Wet, so wet. Gods, her tongue was delicious.
Nothing was happening.
He was being swept away on a current of desire so intense it left him reeling.
His hands were still in her hair.
His hands were no longer in her hair, but wrapped around her waist tightly.
Her hands were still, one on the bed, the other on his knee.
Her hands were on him, running through his hair, running around his back - pressing tightly against his chest.
He was silent.
He was gasping her name, ‘Hermione....’
She was unresponsive.
She was a firecracker in his arms, ‘Severus! Please, don’t stop kissing me!’
He was going crazy.
She was driving him mad.
Gasping, he pulled himself away and out of her mind, his sudden movement almost making him fall off the bed. His blood was surging hotly through his veins. He wanted to dive back into her mind and finish what she had started when she had pulled him in.
He was furious she hadn’t listened to him.
He was ecstatic she hadn’t listened to him.
She was as still as death, lying there on the bed. His kiss had not woken her up.
‘Are you all right, Severus...sir,’ he heard Nettie inquire as if from a great distance, and his shoulders slumped.
‘It didn’t work, Nettie.’
‘You didn’t expect it to,’ her voice was calm, reasonable. He turned his head slightly and looked at her, his expression grim.
‘I wanted it to, though.’
She didn’t say anything to that, just smiled at him sadly. ‘I suspect Miss Granger is just as disappointed as you are. Go talk to her, Severus. I’ll get you a cup of tea.’
Entering her mind was becoming easier and easier. The first time he had done this, it had been like falling through mud - sticky and uncomfortable - yet, each successive visit became easier and easier. Now, it was simply a matter of looking into her eyes and stepping through air.
Hermione was waiting where she had left him, her face flushed and her hair wild above it. Her lips were rosy and plump from his kisses and she reached out for him the minute she saw him.
‘Severus.’
He wanted to grab her. He wanted to continue where he had left off. He could still taste her against his mouth, still feel the heat of her pressed against him. Instead, he glared at her.
‘What was that?’
She looked confused, ‘What was what?’
‘You weren’t supposed to pull me in. I was trying to be objective.’ His voice was harsh with suppressed anger and thwarted desire.
Hermione looked stunned, ‘I didn’t pull you in. You were kissing me - my lips - I could feel you. Nothing was happening. And then you were suddenly here kissing me, and it was....wonderful!’
‘You pulled me in,’ he reiterated. ‘I felt it, Hermione.’
‘I didn’t,’ she retorted, moving closer to him. He could feel her heat radiating from his in waves. ‘I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t even looking at you, just - feeling. You felt so good, Severus.’ Her voice had dropped an octave, the seductive whisper trailing up his spine and making him shiver. ‘Please, kiss me again.’
Her arms were reaching out to him, her face flushed. He watched the rapid beating of her heart in the hollow of her throat with fascination.
‘Hermione,’ he whispered, allowing himself to grasp her hands and pull her to him, ‘we shouldn’t be doing this.’
‘Yes, we should,’ she replied as her mouth met his again, gently this time, and so sweet it made his knees buckle. ‘No one is here but us, there’s only you and I. I’ve wanted this for so long, Severus. No one will ever know.’
He was weakening. He knew he was, but Merlin’s balls! She was so addictive.
‘No one will ever know,’ he agreed, as her hands pulled free of his, her fingers finding the clasped buttons on his frock coat and quickly undoing them before, before sliding under the dark material to his back.
He thought his heart would burst from adrenaline and joy as he wrapped his arms around her and leaned in to kiss her once again. ‘I love you, Hermione.’
‘I know,’ she replied.
He had stayed with her the rest of the day, enjoying their conversations and their silences. They had picnicked in the garden and walked along the lakeside before returning to his study, sharing a camaraderie tinged with such acceptance and affection, he had a hard time believing it was directed at himself. She was a wonder, a shiny prism refracting the light around her and shining into all the dark places of his soul.
The tea Nettie had brought for him had remained cold and untouched on the night table, as had the sandwich she provided. Snape hadn’t even heard her return. Finally, as the sun was sliding down beyond the horizon, he pulled himself from Hermione’s arms, despite her protests.
‘Stay.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can.’
‘I need to think, Hermione, while everything is still fresh in my mind. Besides, Albus is expecting me in the Great Hall for dinner tonight. I’m probably already late.’
‘Promise me you’ll come back.’
‘I’ll come back.’
Now, sitting in the Great Hall, staring forlornly in to his soup, he realized he was... content. It was a foreign concept for him - he had never been content in his life. Hermione loved him. He didn’t doubt it any longer - he couldn’t. Curse or no curse, she loved him and he - well, suffice it to say he felt lost without her. Just knowing that he could return to her, slide into the sweet haven of her mind and converse with her, hold her in his arms... the very thought made him smile.
He glanced around nervously to see if anyone had seen him grinning like an idiot at his soup spoon and sighed when he realized they were all to busy with their meals to notice him.
Unless... was that Sybil Trelawney, staring at him? What was she doing out of her tower? Her eyes looked excessively large through the thickness of her glasses, her brow pinched in concentration as she studied him. He frowned at her, but she just smiled that dopey smile of hers before leaning across Sprout and letting her beads drag into her soup.
‘Professor Snape... Severus,’ she began, in that high lilting tone he so detested, ‘What have you done to yourself?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sybil.’ His voice was cold but he shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
‘There’s something different about your aura today,’ she continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. Her myopic eyes continued to study him. ‘It’s full of color.’
Snape rolled his eyes at her, and Sprout tittered, ‘Color, Sybil? Whatever do you mean?’
‘Don’t get her started, Sprout,’ Snape hissed, but it was already too late.
‘Everyone’s aura is a different color,’ Sybil turned her glance towards Sprout. ‘You, Pomona, are always shades of green, with other strong earth tones mixed into it. Your aura represents you - your love of nature, your ability to grow things...your love for the outdoors. Our dear Albus is mostly purple, the wisest of the aura colors, with flecks of gold overlaying it. The purple represents his strong magical powers and the gold shows he is always working for the highest good - Albus has a very powerful aura indeed.’
She paused and turned squarely back to look at Snape, her eyes no longer quite so vacant but shrewd and assessing. All the other professors were listening now, leaning forward in anticipation.
‘Professor Snape here, almost without exception, has almost always been black - the color of anger, resentment, unhappiness and pain. He’s also had flashes of purple to indicate his strong magical abilities - but now! My dear young man, are you in love?’
Snape almost choked. To his left, he could hear Hooch cackle and Minerva was gazing at the back of his head with such ferocity he thought she might sever it from his neck. He scowled at Trelawney. ‘Pardon me, Madam?’
‘Your aura is pulsing with life,’ she replied, in her irritating droning nasal, ‘it’s full of color! Red, clear and intense, for passion. Pink, for love and sensual bliss. Orange, for stamina and creative or sexual energy and yellow for contentment. Your aura tells me you are - happy.’
Her pronouncement was met with silence. His colleagues were staring at him with various expressions of shock and amusement on their faces. No one said anything for a minute and then Hooch asked, her voice full of insinuation, ‘Did you visit with Hermione this morning, Severus?’
Snape didn’t even take the time to glare at her. His mind was whirling - colors, Trelawney saw colors around him. Merlin’s balls and Circe’s teeth! Colors! Looking up at Trelawney, he pinned her with his eyes.
‘What does gray mean, woman?’ he barked, his jaw tight with intensity.
‘Gray?’ Trelawney echoed, ‘gray is the division of self from spirit. A blocking of energies and soul. Gray is the color of unfulfilled life.’
Snape rose abruptly as she spoke, pushing his chair away from the table with a loud bang as he reached out and grabbed Trelawney’s arm. He needed to take her to Hermione right away. The divination dingbat had embarrassed him beyond all endurance, but she had given him a clue to the curse - the biggest clue yet.
Peter Gabriel - In Your Eyes
love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are
all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes
love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes