crave for me, ch 4
Title: Crave for Me
Pairing: Snape/Hermione
Rating: T
Status: WIP
Summary: When Severus Snape accidentally injures Hermione Granger, a tenuous magical bond is formed between the two.
Chapter One here.
Chapter Two here.
Chapter Three here.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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“What the hell is going on?” Ron Weasley shouted as he bounded up the stairwell to face the closed Hospital Wing doors.
Professor Lupin stood in front of them.
Close on Ron’s tail was a waiflike Hufflepuff Second Year, who only minutes before had been enlisted by a haggard Remus Lupin to deliver a hastily scrawled parchment to Ron Weasley.
“Are you hurt?”
Lupin looked confused for a moment and then looked down. The front of his pale grey robes were smeared with spots of blood.
“Is that your blood, Professor?”
“No, Ron, it’s not.”
“Who’s?”
“First you’ve got to calm yourself...”
“Look, shut up and tell me who it is.”
Lupin paused for just a moment. “It’s Hermione.”
Ron’s face was expressionless as Lupin hurriedly added, “She’s alright though, Ron. She’s going to be okay. She’s just sleeping in there, she’s not in any danger, Poppy merely thought she should sleep, gave her a sleeping potion.”
“Let me see her,” said Ron.
“Of course. Thank you, Ellery. You may go,” said Lupin. The young boy hurried down the stairs.
Lupin seized the handle of the door and swung the doors inward to reveal several rows of empty cots. A small lump occupied the farthest one in the northeast corner. A boy with black hair sat attentively by its side. His shirt was covered in blood as well, only more so, completely soaked through in the front.
Ron rushed to the cot, his long strides crossing the floor in just a few steps.
Harry looked up as he saw him approach.
“Ron!”
Looking down, Ron’s brows knotted in anger.
“Who the hell did this?”
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One could tell a lot by the set of Minerva McGonagall’s mouth. When she was suppressing a laugh, her top lip nudged over her bottom. When she disapproved of something, her brows curled up just slightly at the top. And when she was incandescent with rage, her mouth was pursed into the smallest of rosebuds.
As it was now.
“Severus, a student!”
“I know, Minerva.” Snape leaned forward in his chair and rested his forehead on his fingertips.
“How could you be so careless? So irresponsible!” Minerva paced Madam Pomfrey’s office impatiently.
“I’ve already repeated how it happened.”
“Again then, please. Tell me again.”
“I see no point in that.”
Minerva stopped suddenly and walked over to stand defiantly in front of Snape. “Recount the details in full again, you may have forgotten something before. When Hermione’s parents ask why their daughter was almost killed by her professor, I’d like to be able to answer them effectively.”
Snape sighed. “Very well.”
“I was in my classroom with Remus Lupin. We were having an argument.”
“A duel? Was it a duel?” Minerva interrupted.
“For the last time, no. It was not a duel.”
Minerva looked suspicious. “Continue,” she said, as she settled herself into the chair behind Poppy’s desk.
“Remus brought up some…old wounds. Some things I didn’t care to hear at the time. I told him to stop the conversation several times. He did not. At which point I decided to send a…stronger message his way.”
“You tried to kill him.”
“Minerva, really, such theatrics aren’t necessary. I did not try to kill him. I used my wand, spoke the words aloud, gave him plenty of time to react. I thought he’d block the spell.”
Severus took a deep breath here.
“That’s when Miss Granger opened the door, and instead of blocking the spell, Remus moved out of its path. She was hit, she fell, and I took her to the Hospital Wing. And here we are.”
“Did you try to heal her, Severus?”
Snape looked a tad indignant. “Of course I did. Remus tried as well.”
“Why do you suppose that you were unable to heal her?”
“I’m not a medi-wizard.” He stood up abruptly, and walked to the small window in the office.
“Poppy’s told me that she had a most difficult time repairing her wound. Severus, I didn’t ask you this before. What was the spell?”
Snape paused. “Sectumsempra.”
Minerva didn’t blink. “I’m not familiar with that spell.”
“I developed it myself many years ago.”
Minerva’s mouth dropped a bit. “You used a spell…a spell you yourself authored on someone? That’s completely irresponsible, you know v-“
“-Very well that a spell used by the spell’s author has a compounded power. Yes, I am aware of that.”
“And you used this spell deliberately? Without knowing how to cure its effects?”
Snape’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “I’ve been able to do so in the past.”
Minerva’s small hand made a fist. She lightly tamped it onto the desk. “Then why, Severus? Why in Merlin’s name not this time?”
Snape stepped closer to the window. Pale shafts from the moon fell onto his face. In the distance, fog was rolling off of the lake and onto the shore.
“Unfortunately, I think that my state of…annoyance may have been the cause.” Snape paused. “Remus brought up many old memories during our little discussion. Ones I’m afraid I still find rather…upsetting.”
Snape hated to say the words aloud, even to someone he trusted. He’d give anything to look back on James and Lily Potter with indifference. Emotion was power, and they, years dead, still had it over him.
It was maddening. And there was nothing that he could do about it.
“Really, Severus, it’s not in your nature to get so carried away. But I suppose it makes some sort of sense. A heightened state of fury, compounded with the fact that you are the author of the spell…”
Minerva shook her head slightly. “You’re lucky you didn’t kill the girl.”
Severus watched the fog creep into the corners of the school grounds. “I know.”
With a brisk sigh, McGonagall rose from her chair. “I’ll simply tell the Grangers the truth and hope for the best. Though I can’t imagine how well they’ll take it, to say nothing of how Miss Granger’s friends may react as well.”
Severus crossed to the door that opened into the Hospital Wing and opened it. “I’ll be forced to take my chances with them,” said Snape somewhat sarcastically. He threw this over his shoulder as he took a step into the Hospital Wing.
Consequentially, he never saw it coming.
After a shocked pause from all those in the room, Snape sat up and dabbed at the blood in the corner of his mouth.
“Weasley, you can’t even split a lip properly.”
There was no reply from Ron’s motionless body as it dangled two feet in the air. Ron’s eyes darted from Snape to Headmaster McGonagall, the source of a commanding Immobulus just seconds earlier.
“Mr. Weasley, I will release you if you’ve calmed yourself enough to refrain from assaulting the staff further.”
“Assaulting the staff? Bollocks!” Harry’s teeth ground together as he sent Snape a murderous look from his seat by Hermione’s hospital cot. He turned back to Hermione. “He almost killed her.”
“There now, no one’s killed,” said Madam Pomfrey as she tucked the bed sheet over Hermione’s waist, pausing only to glare at Snape.
Snape lifted himself off of the floor and swiftly dusted the side of his robes. His dark eyes gazed at the small figure under the white sheet.
“Laxdavus,” said McGonagall.
Ron fell with a clatter to the stone floor. “Now really, Ron, it was an honest accident,” said Lupin. He paused. “I think you know as well as I that Professor Snape would not have…willfully hurt Hermione.”
“Chuh,” said Ron mutinously as he rubbed his elbow. Lupin offered Ron a hand up, and then started speaking soft words of assurance to him.
Snape slowly approached the cot. Underneath the familiar pile of curls was a pale face, the light freckles that normally spattered her nose standing out. Her dark lashes lay on her cheeks as she slept peacefully.
She was wearing a set of loose-fitting hospital robes. The neckline had been pulled aside to reveal a thick, knotted, white scar that jaggedly wound its way down the lower part of Hermione’s neck, past the collarbone, and disappeared into the folds of her robes toward her shoulder.
Snape was silent as he instinctively reached to see the rest of the scar.
“Don’t touch her,” snarled Harry possessively, low enough for only Snape to hear.
“Spare me the wounded lover speech,” murmured Snape.
“You murderous bastard.” Harry’s eyes looked unblinkingly into his.
“Silence, Potter! You may be the bright and darling hero of the Wizarding World, but I am still your professor here, and you will treat me with respect.”
“I’ll treat you to a shrunken-“
Further pleasantries between the two were interrupted by McGonagall’s gasp. “Merlin,” she exclaimed, as she pulled back the robe at Hermione’s shoulder to reveal the rest of the silvery scar. Luckily, it did not extend much further into Hermione’s sleeve.
The scar was about the length of Snape’s hand in total. It was hideous.
Minerva tsked. “A scar, Poppy? How so?”
Poppy did not stop mashing something in a mortar with a pestle as she answered. “Best I could do, I’m afraid. I’m not familiar with that spell. I was surprised, frankly, to even be able to close the wound. It bled on ages.”
“Is she going to have that scar forever,” interrupted Ron.
Madam Pomfrey dipped her wand into the mortar and applied some horrid smelling concoction onto Hermione’s scar. “I would hope not, but these sorts of things take time.”
Setting down her wand and mortar, Madam Pomfrey wiped her hands absently on her apron. “I’m making every possible effort.” She patted Harry on the shoulder. “Hermione’s really an extraordinarily lucky young witch. She lost a fair amount of blood, and it took me almost half an hour to heal her up, but I’m confident she’ll make a full recovery. Often these scars disappear after a period of time.”
Madam Pomfrey glanced significantly at Harry’s forehead. “Other times they do not.”
Ron knelt by the cot and slipped his hand into Hermione’s.
Madam Pomfrey turned to McGonagall. “I’d like to keep her here a night or two, but I see no reason why she can’t return to her studies in the next few days. When she feels ready.” She turned smilingly to Harry. “You must take her to Hogsmeade some fine weekend. The fresh air will do her good.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “If there’s nothing else, Headmistress, I have papers to grade. Excuse me,” said Snape shortly, as he exited the Hospital Wing.
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“Really, I think it’s going to do a lot for my reputation,” said Hermione.
“Oh,” said Ron distractedly as he slapped down another card. The two were playing Exploding Snap on the bottom of Hermione’s cot.
“Yes. Not everyone’s been almost killed by their Potions professor. Perhaps they’ll think I’ve unearthed some vile secret of his.” Hermione’s legs were curled under her and she was sitting up, eagerly looking at her cards.
“We could tattoo a hippogriff over the scar to match mine,” said Harry as he doodled on a pad of parchment in his lap.
“Please, I don’t want any foul old copy of your tattoo. I’m thinking a lovely silhouette of Snape to commemorate the day.”
“Mmm, ‘fraid the scar’s not long enough to fit a silhouette of his nose,” said Harry thoughtfully.
Ron looked confused. “Scar? Her whole body isn’t big enough for that.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up as she placed a card down, which immediately detonated in Ron’s face with a loud popping sound. “Don’t call me flat chested, Ron. It’s rude to mock an invalid.”
Privately, Ron felt that Hermione’s chest was perfectly fine. Of course she wasn’t as lushly endowed as Lavender Brown, but her body had a respectable shape and curved in all the places it should, if he remembered correctly.
“Invalid! You’re in a better mood than you have been in months.”
Hermione smiled. “I do feel better since waking up this morning. I think it was that Sleeping Potion Madam Pomfrey gave me. Slept well.”
Ron wiped some stray soot from the corner of his eye. “Another game?”
“I’ve had that potion before I think. Second year. Always felt a bit wrong though, waking up from a sleep without any dreams. Like I’d missed something,” said Harry.
“Hmm. Well I never remember my dreams anyway, so there’s no loss,” said Hermione.
“Never?” Ron sounded a bit incredulous.
Hermione shook her head as she shuffled the cards for another round. “No, not really. I mean I woke up from a nightmare once or twice when I was a kid, but I could never recall what the dreams were or even that I’d had a dream. Just that I woke up scared.”
“Well of course you do dream, everyone does,” said Ron. “You just can’t remember them.”
“Of course.”
“It’s probably because you fill your brain thinking about schoolwork the minute you wake up,” said Harry.
“Speaking of which, did you bring me my assignments?”
Harry reached into his book bag and withdrew a small bound packet of parchment. Hermione’s eyes lit up greedily as she took it from him.
“Oy, what about our game?”
“Later, Ron,” said Hermione dismissively as she untied the ribbon holding the pages.
“Also, this.” Harry withdrew a rather large, dusty book that Hermione seized upon rapidly.
“Metal Charming: Moments to Learn, Lifetimes to Master,” read Ron read aloud.
“Professor Sinistra sent it along. Figured you’d want to get started on it now.”
“Hmm. Seems rather rudimentary…I’m not seeing a lot of charms that even require wands here,” said Hermione as she thumbed through the book.
“I told you it was boring as all hell, Hermione.”
Papers shuffled as Hermione looked through the rest of her parchment. “Three feet from Professor Flitwick? I’ve got to get started on this.” She paused. “And so should you two.”
“Well, I’d say that’s the polite goodbye for us, mate,” said Harry as he rolled up his pad of parchment and stuck it in his pocket.
“You’re getting out tomorrow morning, then,” Ron asked.
“Mmm. Yes. I’m eager to get back; I’ve got a lot to make up for in Astronomy.”
Hermione cheerfully waved to the boys as they headed out of the Hospital Wing. It had been nice of them to visit. There was precious little socializing to be had here, most of which consisted of Madam Pomfrey lecturing Hermione for reading too long into the night.
After reading through Flitwick’s assignment, Hermione wrote an outline of her paper, jotting down a few notes here and there of things to look up later in the library. The chimes from the clock tower softly toned eleven.
Eleven. Time had passed quickly. It was nice to have done some schoolwork; it felt like she’d accomplished something. Hermione extinguished the lamp by her cot and snuggled into the cotton sheets. They smelled slightly medicinal, like eucalyptus. Hermione breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
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“Not enough! Not enough I say!”
The horrible old woman was yelling. Her hair was chopped extremely short and was thinning badly on the top, wilting tufts of gray hair whipping around her ears. Her eyes were a very dark blue, so blue they looked almost brown.
The woman turned away for a moment, the nondescript, dung-colored robes she wore turning with her. There was a rather large wart at the corner of her mouth, where her lips met. It waggled as she yelled.
It was frankly a little hard not to stare.
“Honestly, and pay attention too,” the woman shrieked, and rapped the cauldron with her cane.
Hermione leaned on the table and looked into the cauldron. Stems of betony swirled in a clear, glowing liquid. She looked up at the old woman, horrified.
I know this!
It’s wrong!
Hermione tried to open her mouth, but couldn’t.
“Buds! Stems! You never add the buds, not unless it says!” The old witch’s voice was grating.
She bopped Hermione’s hand with her cane. “And don’t lean, you’ll sweat into the Cauldron and ruin it all again!”
“It’s ruined?”
“Yes, it’s ruined, and you’re never going to be any good unless you start listening to what whispers to you, instead of that fatuous mind of yours!”
Whispers?
Nothing whispers to me.
“Well? What does it tell you?”
Hermione again tried to open her mouth, and couldn’t.
This is ridiculous; I’ve just got to concentrate. I can open my mouth. Just let me think about it.
“Stop making that look and answer me!”
What look?
I wasn’t making any look!
“Answer me! Tell me why you won’t listen!”
“I’m ATTEMPTING to tell you,” screamed Hermione, right into the old woman’s face. Just as her eyes widened in surprise, Hermione heard a small sigh and she blinked.
When she opened her eyes, she was staring at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, and the first rays of sun were beginning to steal into the windows.
Pairing: Snape/Hermione
Rating: T
Status: WIP
Summary: When Severus Snape accidentally injures Hermione Granger, a tenuous magical bond is formed between the two.
Chapter One here.
Chapter Two here.
Chapter Three here.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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“What the hell is going on?” Ron Weasley shouted as he bounded up the stairwell to face the closed Hospital Wing doors.
Professor Lupin stood in front of them.
Close on Ron’s tail was a waiflike Hufflepuff Second Year, who only minutes before had been enlisted by a haggard Remus Lupin to deliver a hastily scrawled parchment to Ron Weasley.
“Are you hurt?”
Lupin looked confused for a moment and then looked down. The front of his pale grey robes were smeared with spots of blood.
“Is that your blood, Professor?”
“No, Ron, it’s not.”
“Who’s?”
“First you’ve got to calm yourself...”
“Look, shut up and tell me who it is.”
Lupin paused for just a moment. “It’s Hermione.”
Ron’s face was expressionless as Lupin hurriedly added, “She’s alright though, Ron. She’s going to be okay. She’s just sleeping in there, she’s not in any danger, Poppy merely thought she should sleep, gave her a sleeping potion.”
“Let me see her,” said Ron.
“Of course. Thank you, Ellery. You may go,” said Lupin. The young boy hurried down the stairs.
Lupin seized the handle of the door and swung the doors inward to reveal several rows of empty cots. A small lump occupied the farthest one in the northeast corner. A boy with black hair sat attentively by its side. His shirt was covered in blood as well, only more so, completely soaked through in the front.
Ron rushed to the cot, his long strides crossing the floor in just a few steps.
Harry looked up as he saw him approach.
“Ron!”
Looking down, Ron’s brows knotted in anger.
“Who the hell did this?”
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One could tell a lot by the set of Minerva McGonagall’s mouth. When she was suppressing a laugh, her top lip nudged over her bottom. When she disapproved of something, her brows curled up just slightly at the top. And when she was incandescent with rage, her mouth was pursed into the smallest of rosebuds.
As it was now.
“Severus, a student!”
“I know, Minerva.” Snape leaned forward in his chair and rested his forehead on his fingertips.
“How could you be so careless? So irresponsible!” Minerva paced Madam Pomfrey’s office impatiently.
“I’ve already repeated how it happened.”
“Again then, please. Tell me again.”
“I see no point in that.”
Minerva stopped suddenly and walked over to stand defiantly in front of Snape. “Recount the details in full again, you may have forgotten something before. When Hermione’s parents ask why their daughter was almost killed by her professor, I’d like to be able to answer them effectively.”
Snape sighed. “Very well.”
“I was in my classroom with Remus Lupin. We were having an argument.”
“A duel? Was it a duel?” Minerva interrupted.
“For the last time, no. It was not a duel.”
Minerva looked suspicious. “Continue,” she said, as she settled herself into the chair behind Poppy’s desk.
“Remus brought up some…old wounds. Some things I didn’t care to hear at the time. I told him to stop the conversation several times. He did not. At which point I decided to send a…stronger message his way.”
“You tried to kill him.”
“Minerva, really, such theatrics aren’t necessary. I did not try to kill him. I used my wand, spoke the words aloud, gave him plenty of time to react. I thought he’d block the spell.”
Severus took a deep breath here.
“That’s when Miss Granger opened the door, and instead of blocking the spell, Remus moved out of its path. She was hit, she fell, and I took her to the Hospital Wing. And here we are.”
“Did you try to heal her, Severus?”
Snape looked a tad indignant. “Of course I did. Remus tried as well.”
“Why do you suppose that you were unable to heal her?”
“I’m not a medi-wizard.” He stood up abruptly, and walked to the small window in the office.
“Poppy’s told me that she had a most difficult time repairing her wound. Severus, I didn’t ask you this before. What was the spell?”
Snape paused. “Sectumsempra.”
Minerva didn’t blink. “I’m not familiar with that spell.”
“I developed it myself many years ago.”
Minerva’s mouth dropped a bit. “You used a spell…a spell you yourself authored on someone? That’s completely irresponsible, you know v-“
“-Very well that a spell used by the spell’s author has a compounded power. Yes, I am aware of that.”
“And you used this spell deliberately? Without knowing how to cure its effects?”
Snape’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “I’ve been able to do so in the past.”
Minerva’s small hand made a fist. She lightly tamped it onto the desk. “Then why, Severus? Why in Merlin’s name not this time?”
Snape stepped closer to the window. Pale shafts from the moon fell onto his face. In the distance, fog was rolling off of the lake and onto the shore.
“Unfortunately, I think that my state of…annoyance may have been the cause.” Snape paused. “Remus brought up many old memories during our little discussion. Ones I’m afraid I still find rather…upsetting.”
Snape hated to say the words aloud, even to someone he trusted. He’d give anything to look back on James and Lily Potter with indifference. Emotion was power, and they, years dead, still had it over him.
It was maddening. And there was nothing that he could do about it.
“Really, Severus, it’s not in your nature to get so carried away. But I suppose it makes some sort of sense. A heightened state of fury, compounded with the fact that you are the author of the spell…”
Minerva shook her head slightly. “You’re lucky you didn’t kill the girl.”
Severus watched the fog creep into the corners of the school grounds. “I know.”
With a brisk sigh, McGonagall rose from her chair. “I’ll simply tell the Grangers the truth and hope for the best. Though I can’t imagine how well they’ll take it, to say nothing of how Miss Granger’s friends may react as well.”
Severus crossed to the door that opened into the Hospital Wing and opened it. “I’ll be forced to take my chances with them,” said Snape somewhat sarcastically. He threw this over his shoulder as he took a step into the Hospital Wing.
Consequentially, he never saw it coming.
After a shocked pause from all those in the room, Snape sat up and dabbed at the blood in the corner of his mouth.
“Weasley, you can’t even split a lip properly.”
There was no reply from Ron’s motionless body as it dangled two feet in the air. Ron’s eyes darted from Snape to Headmaster McGonagall, the source of a commanding Immobulus just seconds earlier.
“Mr. Weasley, I will release you if you’ve calmed yourself enough to refrain from assaulting the staff further.”
“Assaulting the staff? Bollocks!” Harry’s teeth ground together as he sent Snape a murderous look from his seat by Hermione’s hospital cot. He turned back to Hermione. “He almost killed her.”
“There now, no one’s killed,” said Madam Pomfrey as she tucked the bed sheet over Hermione’s waist, pausing only to glare at Snape.
Snape lifted himself off of the floor and swiftly dusted the side of his robes. His dark eyes gazed at the small figure under the white sheet.
“Laxdavus,” said McGonagall.
Ron fell with a clatter to the stone floor. “Now really, Ron, it was an honest accident,” said Lupin. He paused. “I think you know as well as I that Professor Snape would not have…willfully hurt Hermione.”
“Chuh,” said Ron mutinously as he rubbed his elbow. Lupin offered Ron a hand up, and then started speaking soft words of assurance to him.
Snape slowly approached the cot. Underneath the familiar pile of curls was a pale face, the light freckles that normally spattered her nose standing out. Her dark lashes lay on her cheeks as she slept peacefully.
She was wearing a set of loose-fitting hospital robes. The neckline had been pulled aside to reveal a thick, knotted, white scar that jaggedly wound its way down the lower part of Hermione’s neck, past the collarbone, and disappeared into the folds of her robes toward her shoulder.
Snape was silent as he instinctively reached to see the rest of the scar.
“Don’t touch her,” snarled Harry possessively, low enough for only Snape to hear.
“Spare me the wounded lover speech,” murmured Snape.
“You murderous bastard.” Harry’s eyes looked unblinkingly into his.
“Silence, Potter! You may be the bright and darling hero of the Wizarding World, but I am still your professor here, and you will treat me with respect.”
“I’ll treat you to a shrunken-“
Further pleasantries between the two were interrupted by McGonagall’s gasp. “Merlin,” she exclaimed, as she pulled back the robe at Hermione’s shoulder to reveal the rest of the silvery scar. Luckily, it did not extend much further into Hermione’s sleeve.
The scar was about the length of Snape’s hand in total. It was hideous.
Minerva tsked. “A scar, Poppy? How so?”
Poppy did not stop mashing something in a mortar with a pestle as she answered. “Best I could do, I’m afraid. I’m not familiar with that spell. I was surprised, frankly, to even be able to close the wound. It bled on ages.”
“Is she going to have that scar forever,” interrupted Ron.
Madam Pomfrey dipped her wand into the mortar and applied some horrid smelling concoction onto Hermione’s scar. “I would hope not, but these sorts of things take time.”
Setting down her wand and mortar, Madam Pomfrey wiped her hands absently on her apron. “I’m making every possible effort.” She patted Harry on the shoulder. “Hermione’s really an extraordinarily lucky young witch. She lost a fair amount of blood, and it took me almost half an hour to heal her up, but I’m confident she’ll make a full recovery. Often these scars disappear after a period of time.”
Madam Pomfrey glanced significantly at Harry’s forehead. “Other times they do not.”
Ron knelt by the cot and slipped his hand into Hermione’s.
Madam Pomfrey turned to McGonagall. “I’d like to keep her here a night or two, but I see no reason why she can’t return to her studies in the next few days. When she feels ready.” She turned smilingly to Harry. “You must take her to Hogsmeade some fine weekend. The fresh air will do her good.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “If there’s nothing else, Headmistress, I have papers to grade. Excuse me,” said Snape shortly, as he exited the Hospital Wing.
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“Really, I think it’s going to do a lot for my reputation,” said Hermione.
“Oh,” said Ron distractedly as he slapped down another card. The two were playing Exploding Snap on the bottom of Hermione’s cot.
“Yes. Not everyone’s been almost killed by their Potions professor. Perhaps they’ll think I’ve unearthed some vile secret of his.” Hermione’s legs were curled under her and she was sitting up, eagerly looking at her cards.
“We could tattoo a hippogriff over the scar to match mine,” said Harry as he doodled on a pad of parchment in his lap.
“Please, I don’t want any foul old copy of your tattoo. I’m thinking a lovely silhouette of Snape to commemorate the day.”
“Mmm, ‘fraid the scar’s not long enough to fit a silhouette of his nose,” said Harry thoughtfully.
Ron looked confused. “Scar? Her whole body isn’t big enough for that.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up as she placed a card down, which immediately detonated in Ron’s face with a loud popping sound. “Don’t call me flat chested, Ron. It’s rude to mock an invalid.”
Privately, Ron felt that Hermione’s chest was perfectly fine. Of course she wasn’t as lushly endowed as Lavender Brown, but her body had a respectable shape and curved in all the places it should, if he remembered correctly.
“Invalid! You’re in a better mood than you have been in months.”
Hermione smiled. “I do feel better since waking up this morning. I think it was that Sleeping Potion Madam Pomfrey gave me. Slept well.”
Ron wiped some stray soot from the corner of his eye. “Another game?”
“I’ve had that potion before I think. Second year. Always felt a bit wrong though, waking up from a sleep without any dreams. Like I’d missed something,” said Harry.
“Hmm. Well I never remember my dreams anyway, so there’s no loss,” said Hermione.
“Never?” Ron sounded a bit incredulous.
Hermione shook her head as she shuffled the cards for another round. “No, not really. I mean I woke up from a nightmare once or twice when I was a kid, but I could never recall what the dreams were or even that I’d had a dream. Just that I woke up scared.”
“Well of course you do dream, everyone does,” said Ron. “You just can’t remember them.”
“Of course.”
“It’s probably because you fill your brain thinking about schoolwork the minute you wake up,” said Harry.
“Speaking of which, did you bring me my assignments?”
Harry reached into his book bag and withdrew a small bound packet of parchment. Hermione’s eyes lit up greedily as she took it from him.
“Oy, what about our game?”
“Later, Ron,” said Hermione dismissively as she untied the ribbon holding the pages.
“Also, this.” Harry withdrew a rather large, dusty book that Hermione seized upon rapidly.
“Metal Charming: Moments to Learn, Lifetimes to Master,” read Ron read aloud.
“Professor Sinistra sent it along. Figured you’d want to get started on it now.”
“Hmm. Seems rather rudimentary…I’m not seeing a lot of charms that even require wands here,” said Hermione as she thumbed through the book.
“I told you it was boring as all hell, Hermione.”
Papers shuffled as Hermione looked through the rest of her parchment. “Three feet from Professor Flitwick? I’ve got to get started on this.” She paused. “And so should you two.”
“Well, I’d say that’s the polite goodbye for us, mate,” said Harry as he rolled up his pad of parchment and stuck it in his pocket.
“You’re getting out tomorrow morning, then,” Ron asked.
“Mmm. Yes. I’m eager to get back; I’ve got a lot to make up for in Astronomy.”
Hermione cheerfully waved to the boys as they headed out of the Hospital Wing. It had been nice of them to visit. There was precious little socializing to be had here, most of which consisted of Madam Pomfrey lecturing Hermione for reading too long into the night.
After reading through Flitwick’s assignment, Hermione wrote an outline of her paper, jotting down a few notes here and there of things to look up later in the library. The chimes from the clock tower softly toned eleven.
Eleven. Time had passed quickly. It was nice to have done some schoolwork; it felt like she’d accomplished something. Hermione extinguished the lamp by her cot and snuggled into the cotton sheets. They smelled slightly medicinal, like eucalyptus. Hermione breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
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“Not enough! Not enough I say!”
The horrible old woman was yelling. Her hair was chopped extremely short and was thinning badly on the top, wilting tufts of gray hair whipping around her ears. Her eyes were a very dark blue, so blue they looked almost brown.
The woman turned away for a moment, the nondescript, dung-colored robes she wore turning with her. There was a rather large wart at the corner of her mouth, where her lips met. It waggled as she yelled.
It was frankly a little hard not to stare.
“Honestly, and pay attention too,” the woman shrieked, and rapped the cauldron with her cane.
Hermione leaned on the table and looked into the cauldron. Stems of betony swirled in a clear, glowing liquid. She looked up at the old woman, horrified.
I know this!
It’s wrong!
Hermione tried to open her mouth, but couldn’t.
“Buds! Stems! You never add the buds, not unless it says!” The old witch’s voice was grating.
She bopped Hermione’s hand with her cane. “And don’t lean, you’ll sweat into the Cauldron and ruin it all again!”
“It’s ruined?”
“Yes, it’s ruined, and you’re never going to be any good unless you start listening to what whispers to you, instead of that fatuous mind of yours!”
Whispers?
Nothing whispers to me.
“Well? What does it tell you?”
Hermione again tried to open her mouth, and couldn’t.
This is ridiculous; I’ve just got to concentrate. I can open my mouth. Just let me think about it.
“Stop making that look and answer me!”
What look?
I wasn’t making any look!
“Answer me! Tell me why you won’t listen!”
“I’m ATTEMPTING to tell you,” screamed Hermione, right into the old woman’s face. Just as her eyes widened in surprise, Hermione heard a small sigh and she blinked.
When she opened her eyes, she was staring at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, and the first rays of sun were beginning to steal into the windows.