Eternal

Sirius felt as though he had been bathed in Odgen's Old Firewhiskey. Cautiously, he opened one eye to the darkness, closed it, rubbed at his head. It felt incredibly sore, as if he had hit it on something with tremendous force. He opened his eyes again and found himself staring up at a high ceiling.

With a groan he sat up, feeling somewhat nauseous and very dizzy. His head throbbed, and unbidden scenes of his life as a seventh year flickered across his mind. Bottles of firewhisky, and Remus, James and himself howling to the moon. They had been so drunk! Even the memory hurt his head. He rubbed it and felt a sizable lump on the back. His fingers came away wet with blood.

Sighing, Sirius forced himself to stand. He lurched forward and clutched the cool marble wall beside him, fighting for balance. What had happened, he wondered. It felt as though he had been lying on that floor for hours and his body was stiff.

"Remus?" he called out weakly, trying to recall what had happened. He could remember only bits and pieces, but they seemed so distant, as if they were bits of moving pictures and not his own life. Bellatrix, his least favorite cousin, laughing at him. Harry and his friends...where? Had they been here and left him, gone to get help? Somehow he had imagined that Remus had come with him.

"How did I get here?" Sirius asked himself, rubbing his sore head once more and touching the lump gingerly with his fingers. He remembered being home, in the house that had never felt like a real home to him, Grimmauld Place. Just him and that wretched elf, he remembered that clearly enough, Kreacher. The ugly face glaring at him and mumbling. Had he gone for a walk? Had Voldemort somehow found the Order of the Phoenix headquarters? That was impossible, Sirius thought bitterly. He rubbed his eyes, impatient with himself. Just think, Sirius, he urged himself. Focus.

He remembered Remus, shouting about Harry, but had that been recently or weeks ago? Sirius tried to force himself to remember, but his horrid headache prevented any real thought. He needed to find someone and get home, rest a while and talk to Harry. Hogwarts was almost out for summer, was it not? He could use a nice vacation.

Sirius waited until the dizziness passed, and looked around. He realized that he was in a grey marble hallway, not near any doors or windows. However he had gotten in he could not recall. Way on the opposite end of the hall was a small torch, burning merrily. It cast a golden light over the hallway that did not reach Sirius. He also thought he could hear voices talking faintly. Remus, perhaps? With one hand touching the wall for balance, Sirius started down the hall towards the light.

*********

"Harry? Harry!"

"Hmm?" Harry jumped and turned from the window, where he had been watching the scenery fly by. Hermione was perched on the seat beside him, looking quite concerned. Her face was pale and pinched, and Harry could tell from her expression that she had been calling him for a while.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, looking at him closely.

He shrugged. "Sure, fine. You?"

"I'm fine, Harry, but I'm concerned about you. You've hardly spoken at all since we reached King's Cross," Hermione declared. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Harry lied, looking back towards the window. The Hogwarts Express flew by so fast he could barely make out what they were passing.

"Harry, I'm trying to help you. Are you sure everything is fine? You don't need to talk about anything?" Hermione pressed.

Harry sighed. She had been pestering him all summer, trying to get him to open up and talk about his feelings. He had only stayed at the Dursley's for two weeks, which had passed quite quickly. None of the Dursley's had spoken to him, except Petunia, who had said goodbye through clenched teeth.

He had spent the rest of the summer at the Burrow, sharing a room with Ron. Even though it made him feel very safe to hear Ron's breathing and to live like family with the Weasleys, he had had trouble sleeping. Each night long after the others were snoring, Harry stayed awake and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts were always on Sirius. Sometimes he remembered when he had first met Sirius and discovered that Sirius was not really a mass murderer. Other times he thought of the previous Christmas, when Sirius had been so happy. More often then any other though, the night of Sirius's death haunted Harry's sleep. So many times he watched as Sirius fell, his smile fading, and heard the wicked cackle of a triumphant Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry shook himself. Hermione was staring at him again. She had done that at the Burrow too, constantly tried to make him talk about Sirius when all Harry really wanted to do was be alone with his thoughts. Hermione was never the kind to back down.

"Harry, if you need a listening ear I'm here for you," Hermione said. "Anytime, if you need to talk, okay?"

"Right," Harry answered, trying to look as if he was not annoyed. Did she want to hear about his nightmares, want to relive Sirius's death over and over again? Harry he knew he wasn't being fair. Hermione had cared for Sirius too, of course. She probably wanted to think about good memories with him, but Harry, who had been so deprived of family all his life, clung jealously to the few memories he had of his godfather.

"Hermione, back off," muttered Ron, who had been watching them for some moments. He was feeding pieces of his pumpkin tart to Pigwidgeon, the owl who had been a gift from Sirius. Sirius again, Harry thought as the sorrow hit him yet again. Everything reminded him of Sirius.

"I'm only trying to be a friend, Ron," Hermione snapped. "Harry needs a shoulder to cry on."

"No," Harry started to say, but then he gave up. He felt exhausted and he wasn't even off the train yet. He sat in the seat watching fat raindrops fall and listening to Ron and Hermione arguing with each other in whispers.

"Maybe he doesn't want to think about it all the time," Ron said to Hermione. "Don't remind him over and over."

"I'm not, Ron, I just don't think it's healthy to keep it all bottled up," Hermione hissed back. Harry made a point not to look at either of them and soon they had stopped speaking. When he risked a glance he saw that Hermione had taken up some knitting, still with a perturbed look on her face, and Ron was tossing pieces of tart into the air, making Pig catch them in his mouth.

The door to their compartment slid open, and Draco Malfoy stood before them, backed with Crabbe and Goyle, his gargoyle-like sidekicks. Draco had grown a bit taller since the previous year but still was nowhere near the height of his friends. His features were sharper and his skin appeared a bit paler then normal, although it was always very light.

Harry glanced up, so exhausted that he was disinterested instead of angry that Malfoy had intruded yet again. He waited for some vicious taunt to come out of Draco's mouth and realized that he didn't care. Nothing that Malfoy could say had any effect on him. Harry was already drained of feelings, or so he felt, and the usual jeers and insults would be nothing compared to the death of Sirius. He glanced at Malfoy with disinterest and turned again to face the window.

"Get out, Malfoy," Hermione said, standing up. "Haven't you anything better to do with your time?"

Malfoy looked at her with an almost puzzled expression. "Back off, Granger. I'm here to talk to Potter."

Hermione made a face. "Go ahead then, Malfoy. Then get out. We don't care to waste our time fighting with you. It's gotten old."

Now Malfoy did look surprised. He said nothing to Hermione, however, and turned to Harry, who glanced up at him with a disinterested expression.

"Sirius Black, he was your godfather, right? Is it true that he died in the Department of Mysteries?" Draco asked. He looked rather nervous to be asking.

"What do you care, Malfoy?" Hermione started, but Harry held up his hand and she backed down, still glaring and clutching her wand.

"It's true," Harry nodded. Died. It was such a quick and simple word, hardly enough to encompass what had happened to Sirius. What had happened to him. Harry felt as though his heart had been ripped away from his body with Sirius's death. He kept his disinterested, blank expression on though. There was no point in showing Malfoy his sadness.

"Well, I wanted to let you know, er, to give you my condolences," Malfoy said softly. He blushed, as though he had admitted something very personal. "It's probably difficult for you."

"Probably?" shrieked Hermione, who had had enough of backing down. She raised her wand and pointed it at Draco. "What does it matter to you, Draco?" She practically spat out the name as if the mere sound disgusted her. "Are you here to gloat? Here to make fun of Harry for having lost even more loved ones? You probably have the Lestranges over for dinner at that stupid mansion of yours, and you dare pretend you're sorry?" Her face was beet red, her eyes bright and crazy.

Malfoy took a small step back,gasping in surprise, his eyes on the wand in his face. He did not reach for his own, however, nor signal Crabbe or Goyle to defend him. Instead, he stepped back out of the compartment and slid the door closed.

Hermione sank down onto the bench and immediately started to cry as though she had been insulted in the worst way. She covered her face with her hands, but Harry could see the tears cascading down her face. "Hermione?"

"What?" she said thickly, through the tears. Ron abandoned Pigwidgeon and sat next to Hermione, patting her hair in an awkward gesture. He and Harry exchanged concerned glances.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Harry asked. He felt a little dazed himself from the strange encounter with Malfoy, but he couldn't understand Hermione's crying. That had to be the first time Malfoy had spoken to them without a single insult.

"It's just, Malfoy," Hermione sobbed. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, which were red. Crookshanks climbed into her lap and she hugged him close like one who had suffered a terrible ordeal. "That stupid git, coming here, saying those things."

"It's weird," Harry agreed, wondering how Hermione could be offended by Malfoys comments. "But he didn't actually do anything to us. He was probably just playing a game or something. You know Malfoy."

Hermione nodded and sniffed. Ron continued to pat her hair, looking very concerned and unsure of himself. Harry turned back to the window. They were almost to Hogwarts, he thought, feeling somewhat more happy at that. It would be nice to lay in his bed, in Gryffindor tower, nice to be home. He allowed himself one moment to imagine a different sort of home, living with Sirius at Grimmauld Place, which had been his plan the previous year if he had been expelled. Then he forced the thought out of him mind. It would never happen.

Hermione wiped her eyes and sat up. Ron put his arm around her, the first time as far as Harry knew, but Hermione did not protest. She picked up her knitting needles and started talking to Ron about a completely unrelated subject, their career advising. Harry ignored them and stared out the window, where is thoughts once more returned to Sirius. He did not say another word until the train arrived at Hogwarts and his fellow students disembarked off the train.

"Feeling better, Hermione?" he asked as they made their way through the queue of pushing Slytherins. Several people gave Harry once overs and he knew they had heard the story about what had happened in the Department of Mysteries. For once, however, he did not care. Losing Sirius had made him immune to petty concerns such as staring faces. He knew he ought to be used to it anyway.

Hermione nodded. She had played Exploding Snap with Ron during the remainder of the trip and won each game. Ron, on the other hand, had a nasty burn on his hand and a few singe marks on his robes, which he magicked away with his wand, scowling. Harry noticed that Hermione had a bit of a distant look too, and he wondered what she was thinking about.

"Here's a carriage," Ron said, directing them over to an empty one a little away from the crowd. Harry helped Hermione up and then climbed in himself, sitting between Ron and Hermione. He noticed that Ron looked a bit disappointed and made himself a metal note to ask exactly what was going on later. He wondered if Ron and Hermione were dating, and the thought brought a smile to his face. That was about as likely as Sirius coming back.

They made their way to the castle, jostling along in the carriage pulled by thestrals. Harry saw them clearly, of course, and was repulsed as usual by their exposed skeletons. He wondered if Ron and Hermione could see them too, but he doubted it. They had not watched Sirius die.

No one said anything until they arrived at the castle and went inside, savoring the warmth. Despite the fact that it was just the first of September, there was a definite chill in the air. Harry shivered a bit as they took their seats in the Great Hall, looking subdued. The rest of the Gryffindor students, however, were loud and obnoxious as usual, excited about returning to school and watching the Sorting. Harry felt no excitement. He missed Fred and George. The hall seemed much more quiet without them. He imagined that Ron and Hermione felt the same way, although Ron might appreciate not having them around to tease him. His prefect duties would go much smoother with them out of the way.

Harry watched, unimpressed now, as the Sorting Hat sang out a new song and was then placed on the heads of small, nervous first years. Each one cringed and blushed when it was their turn, just like Harry had. He recalled his own nervousness upon just arriving at Hogwarts and wished that he could go back in time. If only he had let Sirius kill Pettigrew. If only he had ignored the vision of Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. He clapped half heartedly for the new Gryffindor students, and when the Sorting was finally over he turned to his full plate with little interest.

"You've got to be hungry," Ron commented, chewing on a turkey drumstick while serving himself fudge. "You ate nothing on the train."

Harry shrugged and forced himself to eat a bit. Hermione kept staring at him and Ron insisted that Harry try a bite of everything spread before them. It was a relief when the feast was over. All Harry wanted was to go upstairs and hide in his bed with the hangings closed.

Suddenly he heard Hermione gasp. Ron dropped his fork, which hit the table with a long clatter. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see - Snape. The Potions Master stood before him, dressed as always in billowing black robes. His face looked the same; sallow, with a hooked nose and cold eyes. However, his expression was not the usual one of contempt. Instead he looked almost nervous.

"Potter, if I could speak to you alone please?" Snape said softly, gazing down at Ron and Hermione. Some of the Gryffindors nearby had stopped eating. Their mouths hung open in stunned surprise. Snape hated the Gryffindors, as everyone knew, and Harry was his least favorite. Why then was he here, talking to Harry?

"What did I do?" Harry asked, surprised, as he stood up. "I've only been here a few moments."

"In private," Snape declared with a warning look. He peered over at a few of the nearby sixth years, who were looking shocked. "What are you gawking at, Finnegan?"

"I guess I'll see you upstairs," Harry said to Ron and Hermione as he followed Snape out of the Great Hall. They headed down towards the dungeons, in the direction of Snape's classroom. Sure enough, when they reached that door Snape opened it and followed Harry inside.

Snape stood for several moments, staring at Harry and making him feel uncomfortable. Finally Harry spoke. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Potter. Dumbledore feels that you should resume your Occlumency lessons. He has asked me to inform you," Snape stated, looking directly into Harry's eyes.

"Will Dumbledore be teaching me this time, sir?" Harry questioned, recalling with a grimace his last Occlumency lessons. All that torment, all those hours with Snape, and still Sirius was dead. Useless Occlumency.

Snape frowned. "No, I will."

"But, I thought, you..." Harry said, shocked. He vividly remembered the last lesson he had ever had with Snape, when he had explored the Pensieve. Snape had been utterly furious with him, screaming and throwing things, because Harry had seen his worst memory ever. He was not looking forward to any more time alone with Snape.

Snape waved a hand at Harry. "Dumbledore, while a fine Occulemens, is not quite as familiar with certain aspects of it as I am. His skills are rusty. Mine, on the other hand are keen."

"Sure, because you practice all the time, pretending to support Voldemort," Harry said, nodding. He ignored the surprised look on Snape's face. "Sorry, Professor, but I've had enough Occlumency. What's the point? Voldemort has taken Sirius, the last lessons did nothing to stop him. Why bother now? There's nothing left to take." He knew his voice was bitter, but he did not care. Who was Dumbledore to start making him do Occlumency again? What was the point?

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Nothing left to take? So you don't mind if Voldemort uses Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger as the next lure? Fine, I shall inform Dumbledore. You may go."

"What do you care?" Harry demanded savagely as he looked into Snape's cold eyes. The Professors coolness was getting under his skin. "You don't care what happens to Ron or Hermione! You would probably be happy if they were killed off too, like you're happy Sirius died!"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Whatever personal vendettas I had against Black, I regret the loss of one of the Order."

"No, you don't!" Harry yelled. All the frustration and rage he had towards Bellatrix burst free as he glared at the Potions master. "You're glad to see him dead and gone! You always mocked him, teased him for being in hiding when he was just following Dumbledore's orders. Well, now you've got your revenge on him! He died! Are you happy?"

"No," Snape said softly, looking downwards. "You don't understand, Harry - "

"I understand plenty," shouted Harry. The anger made him feel more alive, more real then he had all summer. "You hated Sirius because he played a prank on you. I know the truth! I remember you trying to give him over to Dementors, to get the Kiss! You would have been pleased to see him an empty shell with no soul, so this must be even better!"

Snape said nothing. He stared at the ground for a moment while Harry stood before him, shaking with anger. Finally Snape spoke.

"I'll inform Dumbledore that you have declined Occlumency lessons. You are free to leave." Snape turned and walked through the door, leaving Harry alone in the Potions classroom, fuming. Harry watched him go in stunned silence. He had expected that Snape would yell and shout, or even try to curse him. Harry wondered if a duel would make him feel less alone and dead inside. After a moment he took a deep breath and left the classroom.

Snape was standing in the hallway, leaning against the cold marble wall with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes when he heard Harry's footsteps but said nothing.

Harry watched him for a moment. "What don't I understand?" he asked finally.

Snape sighed. He looked exhausted. "Why don't you go upstairs and join your friends, Potter? You are not required to resume Occlumency."

"I'd really like to know," Harry persisted.

"You are much too young to understand," Snape said.

"Fair enough. Why did you offer to teach me Occlumency again? You said before that I was never to enter your office again," Harry questioned. It felt very unreal to be talking to Professor Snape like a human being, but Snape's notorious temper seemed to have faded away in the face of Harry's accusations. Besides, Harry thought savagely, provoking Snape was harmless, now that he was dead inside. What could Snape possibly do to him?

"As I said, I am superb.." Snape started to say, but Harry held up a hand, cutting him off.

"I don't believe that Dumbledore is not just as skilled as you. He could teach me. Why you? You hate me."

Snape took a deep breath. "This is really not the time, Potter. I doubt that you could understand. You're just a child."

"Fine." Harry declared, feeling grouchy. He hated when anyone treated him like a child. "How do you expect me to trust you to rummage through my private thoughts when you are not honest with me?"

The edges of Snape's lips turned up in a very faint smile. "If you become a decent Occulemens, you will be able to rummage through my private thoughts, and discover the reasons for yourself. However, since you cannot achieve so much as a very simple block, I doubt you'll ever get that far."

"I'll consider it," Harry told Snape. He glanced around the cold, dim hallway. It was utterly empty. No one ever came down here unless they needed to for lessons, except Snape, who seemed best suited for the cool darkness. Harry wondered if he always been that way. He remembered the bits of memories he had uncovered in his previous Occlumency lessons, of Snape as a disenchanted teenager idly killing flies, and Snape the child, cowering from fighting parents.

"Fine. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do," Snape said. He made no move to return to the Potions classroom, however, and stayed were he was, peering at Harry.

"If I was to take you up on those lessons," Harry asked. "Where would I go, and when?"

"Potter, I am a busy man. Either you will take Occlumency or you will not. I will not stand around waiting for you to accept," Snape declared coldly.

"Can I bring Hermione and Ron? They could be a real help," Harry pointed out.

Snape rolled his eyes and smirked. "Weasley, an Occulemens? I shudder to think. Imagine having him rummaging through my memories, not that he would ever get so far, of course."

"What about Hermione?"

"Granger. Yes, she would be more then competent. However, I would not care for someone that bright to have access to my store of knowledge. No, Potter, if you wish to learn you come alone," Snape replied.

"Okay, okay," Harry agreed. "I'll be there, I suppose. For Dumbledore. And for Sirius. I wish I could have learned in time..."

Snape looked somewhat pained for the briefest moment. Then he composed himself. "Very well. Tomorrow evening, eight o'clock. Come down to the Potions classroom." Snape explained. He nodded curtly to Harry, and disappeared into his office, slamming the door.

Harry climbed the stairs on wooden legs. Had he really agreed to resume Occlumency, with Snape? It hardly seemed real.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for him in the common room, sitting in front of the fires with matching expressions of concern. Hermione was absently knitting a misformed hat and Ron was watching her as though fascinated.

"What happened?" Hermione demanded loudly the moment Harry approached, causing Ron to jump with surprise. "You've been gone a long time!"

It had not felt too long to Harry. He shrugged and leaned close so that he could whisper. "I have Occlumency again. That's what Snape wanted to tell me." He left out the arguments, not figuring Hermione or Ron would be interested.

"Again?" Hermione sounded stunned. "Not with Snape!"

"Yes, with Snape," Harry corrected her. "He is supposed to be one of the best. He has to practice all the time, because of the Order, and him making like he is a Death Eater still."

"Tell Dumbledore you won't do it," Ron urged. "They can't make you, can they?" He looked at Hermione. "Can they?"

"I want to do it," Harry interrupted. "It's important, I guess. If I had learned before, maybe Sirius would still be alive." He knew Sirius's death was all his fault. If only Voldemort had not been able to know who mattered most to Harry! Harry never would have been lured into the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius would be alive.

"I think I'm going upstairs," Harry said, stretching. He did feel very tired, but more then that he wanted to be alone. "I'll see you at breakfast."

Hermione nodded, looking very uncertain. Harry climbed the stairs to the dorm, hearing the noise of the common room grow quieter with each step. Finally he was in his dorm. All of his belongings were in place, including the trunk at the foot of his bed.

Harry dressed himself in pajamas and climbed into bed. He secured the hangings for privacy, and laid down on top of the covers, thinking. Images of Sirius flickered through his mind. Sirius at Christmas, singing "God Bless Ye Merry Hippogriffs". Harry focused so hard on the memory that he could hear the tune in his mind. It lulled him to sleep.

It was still dark when Harry awoke and pushed back the hangings around his bed. He climbed out of the bed and peered out the window to see the thin edges of pink and gold, indicators of the rising sun. Harry glanced around the dorm, wondering what had woken him.

Everyone else was still asleep, snoring softly. Ron, in the bed besides Harry's, was curled into a fetal position and wrapped in blankets up to his chin. He looked much younger in sleep, childish almost, with his fair skin and freckles. Harry watched him sleep for a moment, then sat back down on his bed.

His dream had been wonderful. He had been on his broomstick, in his Quidditch robes, soaring high in the air with the cool breeze on his face. It was a Quidditch match, and Gryffindor was winning the game against Slytherin. Ron had played Keeper, and Ginny was Chaser, and he, Harry, was Seeker as usual. The snitch had appeared, a flicker of gold, and he had soared down towards the stands in hot pursuit. Sirius had been sitting on the stands, clapping and cheering with the Gryffindors.

Harry forced the dream from his mind. There was no point in hoping for such thing; Sirius was long dead and would never come back. The only way Harry would see him again was in the Mirror of Erised, waving alongside his parents.

Not wanting to stay in the dorm full of loud breathing, Harry dressed himself in clean black robes and walked down towards the common room. He expected it to be empty, but when he was halfway down the stairs he was greeted by a very puzzling sight.

Hermione, fully dressed as well, as on her hands and knees before the fire, peering into the flames as though transfixed. There was a head in the fire that Harry did not recognize - someone with brown hair and a pale complexion. It was not Viktor Krum, nor Hermione's parents, whom he would not expect to use Floo, since they were Muggles. Who could it be? Hermione as speaking to the head in the fire in a hushed voice, too low for Harry to make out the words.

Harry stepped on the creaky stair and instantly the head in the fire vanished. Hermione jumped up and looked at Harry in surprise.

"Oh, Harry, good morning!" Hermione said in a voice full of bright, false cheer. She grinned widely. "You're up early."

"And you," Harry replied. He looked at the fire, now empty of heads. "Who were you talking to?"

Hermione blushed. "You saw that? I mean, um, no one really. It's not important at all. No one you know."

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. "It must be important, if you're up early to chat with them before anyone else is around."

"Really?" Hermione asked. She shrugged. "It's nothing Harry. Come, let's go have some breakfast before the table gets crowded."

Harry followed her, watching Hermione with a bit more interest then he had previously shown. Who would have guessed that Hermione Granger kept secrets? Still, he decided after a moment, it was probably something related to homework. Hermione was nice enough, but not exactly interesting.

As they walked towards the staircases there was a shout of anger from an unmistakable voice. Harry peered down, as did Hermione. Professor Snape, dressed in grey pajamas and a black bathrobe, was leading a brown haired Slytherin student by the ear. The student was dressed in robes, his face red with embarrassment.

"Breaking into my office, using my fire!" shouted Snape. "What were you thinking, Montgomery?"

"Nothing, sir, I'm sorry, I just wanted to poke in to see my parents, sir," replied Montgomery, whose head was being held at a very awkward angle.

"Your parents? Couldn't be bothered to send an owl?" Snape asked in a much silkier voice, the one reserved for when he was in control and someone else in trouble. "You know, Montgomery, I can trace the Floo network and see where you've gone to."

Montgomery did not reply, but went dead pale. He allowed himself to be dragged out of sight by Snape.

Harry turned to Hermione, planning to make a joke about Slytherin, but upon seeing Hermione he could only stare. She was deadly pale also, and holding the edge of the staircase in a death grip. Harry had not often seen her so worried looking.

"Hermione? He's just a Slytherin," Harry pointed out. Since when did Hermione care about the fates of Slytherin?

"Yes," she nodded, looking unconvinced. She stared at the spot where Montgomery and Snape had disappeared. "I need to go to the library."

"Now? It's not even dawn. I thought we were having breakfast," Harry remarked, taken aback.

Hermione pulled away from him. "No, not now, er, I'll see you later." She waved quickly and hurried away.

Harry watched her go, feeling confused. Then he shrugged. Watching Snape had probably reminded Hermione of some Potion she didn't yet know, he guessed. He walked alone to the Great Hall and settled down for breakfast.