(Untitled)

[leviohhhhsa]

[Who:] Hermione Granger and Severus Snape
[What:] Meeting in person. 
[When:] Week 2
[Where:] Hospital
[Warnings:] None as yet.

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[endingupdead]

Someone once said that war was waiting. People imagined great wars raging on battlefields, a constant, perfect storm of adrenaline and bloodshed. The truth of the matter, however, was that most of the time, soldiers waited. Orders, the right conditions, a plan of attack - even for the food. Waiting.

Severus had been involved in a war just long enough to know that he had to view it as biding their time or he would go absolutely mental. The undead currently bombarding the fences and exterior of the hospital were a minor inconvenience in an overall struggle. He had to help win this war quickly, and waiting for Ana's plan to be put into effect was absolutely maddening.

He had taken to roaming the hospital, hoping to run into Lily, of course (though he wasn't holding his breath about that one). He rounded a corner just in time to see Hermione casting her little charms; it gave him pause, and he leaned against the wall with a closed expression, watching her silently.

After a long moment, he piped up. "Are you Granger or Tonks?"

Far less jarring than asking if she was the enemy or not, really.

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She recognised something in his voice before her rational mind could catch up her, spinning to face him with something of a deer-in-the-headlights expression- the look of someone who wasn't sure whether to expect a Killing Curse or a detention or anything at all- at which point fear changed to complete confusion, which was followed by understanding. The situation, however, seemed no less bizarre.

She might have picked him out without even having been told he was here, she suspected, though admittedly it was easy to say that now. He didn't look or sound quite the same, but he was difficult enough to mistake.

"Hermione Granger," she said, and the birds, which had darted swiftly into an aggressive, almost military formation without even her conscious say-so, drifted apart and began to circle around, gaining height. Words stuck on her tongue, and she hesitated helplessly, struck dumb by six years worth of deference which were now worth nothing. "I...think we spoke."

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Her reaction struck him as very odd indeed. He supposed they were all on very high alert here, but he hadn't exactly crept up behind her, had he? His eyes followed the movements of the birds, though there was little in the way of fear in his expression. Polite curiosity, perhaps.

When they returned to a less defensive flight pattern, he returned his gaze to her. He recognized her voice, now that she had spoken; she looked absolutely nothing like he's pictured her. Severus had assumed she would be mousy, with overlarge glasses, perhaps, or a penchant for stuffy, traditional robes.

She looked normal. Hopelessly average. It was almost disappointing to think the Civilians had been given Bellatrix Lestrange, in all her insane glory, and they had...this. Then again, if the birds were anything to go by, this might be an issue of the book being far better than the cover.

"So we did." He paused, tempted to turn and leave her to her silly wand-waving, but decided he would have to play nice with her. She was his ally; best not to drive her off with his normal antisocial behaviour. "You aren't what I expected."

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Good grief, making polite conversation could be a little above what she was prepared for. Nevertheless, she rallied, asking, "What were you expecting, exactly?" in as polite a tone as she could muster, sounding rather cagey nonetheless.

He'd been a Death Eater, hadn't he? He was a Death Eater, in fact; she'd have to train herself to think in terms the man (only just old enough to escape being called a teenager, really) in front of her rather than her former teacher. But in the end...

No. Again. She'd keep that knowledge in mind, definitely- but what was important was the here and now.

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"Something a little less mundane," he replied honestly, as though calling her boring was in no way to be considered an insult.

Social niceties only extended so far with Severus Snape. If he had known he would, at one point in his future, mock her for a curse which made her front teeth grow to enormous proportions, he would have sniggered unabashedly about it.

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Ah. Yes. She should have expected something like that, instead of simply being confused. "I see," she said, eyebrows raising slightly as her irritability won out over her irrational urge to stop talking and thus avoid house points being docked. Her tone was more prissy than injured- not really annoyed by his judgement on her appearance, but by the lack of manners displayed in outright stating it. "Well. There are worse things than being mundane. And I, um...suppose it might be worse to be expected to be boring, really."

She glanced up at the birds and waved her wand wordlessly, the spell to banish them being far easier than that to conjure them. They disappeared, a few stray feathers falling and vanishing before they hit the ground.

[endingupdead]

If she had expected manners, she was talking to the wrong person. He could manage civility, but social awkwardness didn't simply go away. He did take note of the prissiness in her tone; his expression was one of dismissal, however. He knew he'd insulted her. He simply didn't care.

"You've been working with the Baroness, have you?" he asked, changing gears suddenly. If he was going to play nice, it was better to have a more neutral topic of conversation than whether or not he found one Hermione Granger to be boring. He wasn't there to stroke her ego.

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She was relieved when the conversation took a turn for the realm of hard facts. Hard to go wrong with a yes-or-no question. "Yes," she said. "Experimenting with what fire will do to zombies." Which wasn't exactly the sort of thing she ever expected to have to talk about. She hesitated, and then added, "The answer's 'not much', unfortunately. And no one wants to burn down the city."

She was tempted to ask if he can use Fiendfyre; the main problem seemed to be that fire was too slow to kill off things which could't feel pain, and Fiendfyre would make far quicker work of them. Still, it wouldn't be useful for luring or herding them anywhere- and she wasn't really inclined to encourage any use of Dark magic. She doubted Snape needed any encouragement, really.

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"With the information I've gleaned from my own experiments and the accounts of the others, I would imagine you turned them into walking torches," he replied dismissively. "If firing shots directly to the head is required of the Muggles, I can only assume the same can be said for us."

Discussing tactics, true, but Severus was also feeling this girl out. A simple us and them scenario, to see how she might respond. She was a clever witch, that much was obvious from her spellwork. He knew already that she was a bleeding heart for vampires, but where did she stand on the all-important wizard-muggle divide?

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“Well- not if you use bluebell flames, because they can’t catch, but...it’s still...messy. It was more a case of seeing whether they’d run from it or to it or not react at all,” she clarified- noting the tone he used when referring to ‘the Muggles’ as opposed to ‘us’ but not being at all surprised. “The Baroness has a plan- luring a large number into a building and, ah...bringing it down on top of them, from what she's told me.”

She hesitated, knowing it was useless, but she couldn’t just leave it, could she? She had to try. “And I’m not sure we need any further divisions. Making it into 'us and them' isn't...it won't help. Not in the here and now. Not ever, but- especially not now.” Getting into this debate with a Death Eater was a fool's errand, even she could see that- but appealing to a Slytherin's practicality and self-preservation could have some merit. Couldn't it?

[endingupdead]

A bleeding heart, through and through. He pulled a face, and might have gone so far as to roll his eyes if he didn't think it was entirely beneath him. Her attempt to appeal to his self-preservation was either too subtle or too ham-handed. He ignored it.

"No doubt the Baroness knows best," he replied. His loyalties - for now - were with Ana Lewis. She had made him promises, and so long as it appeared that she would keep them, he would continue to obey her commands. "She has been here far longer than any of us, and I'm anxious - as I'm sure you are - to lose at least one dividing line."

[leviohhhhsa]

At least one? Well, that was promising, as far as her natural instincts to encourage working together to attack the real enemy went. Of course, optimism could only go so far, and based on what she knew from back home and what she'd seen of him so far here, she doubted he'd be that compliant with the idea. Still, if given the choice, she'd much rather have him on her side than aiming the Dark curses he'd already be so proficient at in her direction...

...except, of course, that Tonks and Sirius were on the other side. And that these sides had no real meaning or loyalty to any particular cause- really, it was every man for himself. And, of course, assuming Severus Snape was on any side which he appeared to be on could be called astonishingly naive. Then again, he was young, and all the things which would and had happened hadn't yet, except Ana had said something about knowing his older self...

And, she knew, she was overthinking this, her brain trying to wrangle thousands of new, inexplicable facts into something approaching a logical solution. It was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle with only half the pieces and no clue what the picture was. In the dark.

"At least." She hesitated. "She's an impressive leader. And she said she knew you before."

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Granger's admission that the Baroness had known him before caught his attention. He looked sharply at her, a crease forming between his brows. Ana had been talking about him to this little nobody. Had she told Granger things she wouldn't tell him?

"Did she," he replied stonily, his face as expressionless now as a mask. It wasn't a question. These people who claimed to have known him, or his older self, made him distinctly uneasy. Martha Jones had been his friend. Ana Lewis remembered him. Lily. What had they learned about him? About his past? What did they know that he didn't? "I'm certain it was an absolutely enthralling conversation."

If Severus had known more about Granger's history, he would have responded very differently to her admission. Far less impassive coolness, and far more shouting.

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There was something about his tone which could still make her feel like her stomach had turned to ice. She tensed up, uncomfortable, but her voice sounded determinedly calm. "It was more of a mention than an actual conversation. I was only trying to work out how it was even possible. Not pry." Because she'd never stick her nose into other people's business...

[endingupdead]

Severus was used to people reacting to him in a certain way. He knew few people actually liked him, and he knew he could make even them nervous. However, Granger's reactions, particularly the way she tensed when he spoke to her, were making him wonder. In fact, the way she reacted to him entirely suggested -

"Do I frighten you?"

[leviohhhhsa]

"No," she said flatly, and she wasn't sure if it was true or not. He unnerved her, certainly- Snape always had, and now there was the added, uncanny effect of his age- but she didn't like to think of that as being frightened. Something about the idea made her feel prickly and defiant. The Gryffindor in her, she supposed. "I'm just a little on edge. Hardly surprising. And you- remind me of someone slightly. It's strange, that's all."