Another World

Harry had matured a lot since the beginning of the war, but he still saw his potions’ professor as his personal adversary, even if they supported the same cause. Nothing but a direct order from Dumbledore would ever have caused him to touch the man. But the headmaster had indeed ordered him to help Snape to the secret chamber where Hermione would be coming through her assigned looking glass. Harry had seen the marks on Snape’s chest and thought them quite grisly, but he did not realize how serious, how close of a call it had been, until he rather unwillingly helped the professor down the stairs of the tower and toward their destination. Severus was still weak from the incredible loss of blood. His steps were ungainly, which was very surprising because of the gracefully gliding manner in which Snape normally moved through the castle.

For his part, Severus would rather have had the aid of almost any student or faculty member, but, no, he had to have the Boy-Who-Lived acting as his escort, walking through the hallway where anyone might see them. The gossip would not end for years and years if any student saw the menacing potions’ professor walking with Harry Potter’s arm around him. Severus was well aware that Potter’s arm was the only thing that kept him from pitching either backward or forward and landing in a heap, but he still resented the possible implications. If Hermione were not in the forefront of his thoughts, that consequence might have been vastly preferable, but as it was, Severus felt as though he wouldn’t be able to breathe properly until he saw her again, safe and sound, and hopefully smiling.

When they reached the chamber wherein the magical mirror hung, Harry deposited Snape upon one of the benches and took a seat on the other one himself. Severus looked pale and anxious in the dim light.

Of course, in Snape’s opinion, Harry looked as though he had not been sleeping very well, which was perfectly true. All of his energy had gone into the search, but the professor didn’t know that. Truthfully, he suspected it, but Severus also knew of Potter’s penchant for after hours activities that were not authorized.

“Who taught my classes while I was ... indisposed?” questioned Professor Snape. Hermione’s need to make conversation had already managed to rub off on him.

“Classes were canceled, professor,” answered Harry.

Snape raised his eyebrows at this bit of news. He imagined that the headmaster had found someone to fill in for himself, not to mention Professor Lupin. Apparently not.

“Really?” he questioned.

“All of the professors took part in the searches as well as the prefects and Ron and myself. The castle was turned inside out at least twice,” Harry informed him.

Professor Snape would probably have inquired more deeply into the matter, but just then someone came flying out of the mirror on the wall, landing on the floor with a loud smack and narrowly missing the rough hewn table with her head. Harry winced at how close she had come.

“That was one wild ride,” said Hermione from the floor, laughing as she looked up at Severus and Harry.

“Are you all right then?” questioned Severus as she scrambled up and brushed off her robes.

“None the worse for wear, I suppose. You look ghastly, Severus. Or should I say I say ghostly? Honestly, don’t you belong in the hospital wing?” she questioned, lifting his chin to examine his color.

Harry’s eyes were as round as saucers as he watched Hermione brush Snape’s hair back with her fingertips. Never mind the fact that she was calling him by his first name. Then Snape did something unexpected. He smiled. It was a condescending or mean-spirited sneer. Or a nasty and superior smirk. The thing that touched his lips was nothing less than an ordinary smile. And it was so weird to see it on his face.

“I told you that it was my intention to be waiting for you, did I not?” Severus questioned.

“Yes, but please tell me that you have been seen to in the meantime,” she said.

“Of course I have. I am expected in the hospital wing soon.”

Hermione turned to her friend who was still watching the scene before him in utter disbelief and asked, “Is it so, Harry? Did Madam Pomfrey examine him yet?”

“Yes, she did,” he replied.

“Thank you, Potter,” said Snape.

Harry frowned at him and waited for the scathing remark that was sure to follow. It never came. Or if it did, it was days later. The professor turned his attention back to Hermione. His smile became a slightly smirk.

“What of Remus and Ginny?” she inquired.

“Ginny is in the hospital wing. I don’t know how it happened, but she was attacked, we believe, by one of those things,” Severus told her gently. “Professor Dumbledore is still awaiting Remus’s return,” he added.

“He has a long way to go,” said Hermione softly.

“He does, but Remus is a force to be reckoned with,” Severus acknowledged.

Harry blinked. Had Severus Snape just complimented Remus Lupin, known werewolf and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? How uncanny was that!

“Maybe we should go check and see ...” said Harry timidly.

“Quite right,” Hermione agreed, helping Severus to his feet. “Unless you would rather go to the hospital wing,” she suggested.

“Not at all. I want to see if Remus has kept that sorry skin of his in one piece,” chuckled Severus, putting an arm around her shoulder. She slipped an arm comfortably around his waist. He suddenly frowned. “Potter, run ahead, would you?” he ordered with a modicum of civility, which was quite a bit more than Harry was accustomed to. Harry nodded and left quite speedily.

“Severus?” Hermione questioned.

“I am not certain that it would be wise for us to be seen together in this fashion,” he said. Her face fell. “No, you misunderstand, Hermione. I merely state this as a matter of necessity. You know of the roles that I play. There are those within the school that might find our association suspect.”

“I can hide my affection for you, Severus. You need only ask me to do so. We are fighting a war. I’m not a little girl. I understand the facts quite well. But could you not tell them that you are trying to recruit me to use me for my skills? I am young, but I already have a reputation, do I not?” inquired Hermione.

“I could also say that I have you under a spell, but the result would be the same. There would be questions that I would be forced to answer in less than ideal circumstances.”

“Under the Cruciatus curse you mean,” she said flatly. He touched her hair and sighed softly.

“Don’t think of such things, Hermione. I can see it in your eyes ...”

“What would you have me do?”

“It is a terrible thing to ask a woman to love in secret, but I would ask it of you, Hermione, at least for now, for a little while. The war will not last forever. We will prevail.”

Hermione shivered and closed her eyes as the last written words of Grindelwald came back to her: evil does not die ... always stronger ... until the end of time.

“Are you so certain?”

“Look at me,” he demanded, cupping her face in his hands for a second time.

Hermione slowly opened her warm brown eyes and peered into the earnest depths of his.

“In your eyes, I see the end of the war. I see the courage to fight the battles. I see the hope needed always to continue the struggle against evil. I see the strength to rise from the ashes if it is necessary. It’s all in there. If only you could see it too,” Severus told her fervently.

“I will try, Severus.”

“Then until the war ends, we cannot show our feelings openly.”

“So be it.”



Remus stood at the entrance to the prefects’ bath and ran his hands through his graying hair as he tried to remember the password. It was not one that he used very often. In fact he had not entered the bath since his own school days when he would come there to swim and horse around with James, who was a prefect, and Sirius, who had been the best mischief-maker of his day. That was many long years ago. And he felt certain that the password had probably changed. He had come to the end of his luck.

He considered trying to blast his way into the bath, but he what if he damaged the mirror, his only ticket home? What then? Remus knew that he couldn’t risk it.

“Lemon scented,” he tried. Nothing.

Remus leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Why was it so difficult to remember? The old password ... He had heard James use it a hundred times and had even used it himself once or twice.

“Squeaky clean,” he guessed, remembering vaguely that the password had something to do with cleanliness. Mister Filch had probably come up with it, or his predecessor.

“Pine fresh,” he hesitated, holding his breath.

The door opened, and Remus exhaled with relief as he stepped into the bath. The picture frame on the wall that normally held an image of a mermaid was empty. Remus wondered what had happened to the inhabitants of all the castle pictures. When the facsimile Hogwarts had been made, had the Founders made it so that the images were not sent into the demon realm or had the demons somehow destroyed the occupants of the portraits? In all fairness, Remus did not wish to know, but he hoped that the first of those hypotheses were true.

Next to the empty frame was a small golden looking glass. Remus smiled when he saw it. It was just the sort of thing that might go unnoticed by nearly everyone who walked into the room, just another ornament on the wall. Who could have guessed the importance or the usefulness of something so small and seemingly inconsequential? Probably none of the prefects, past or present, who made use of the private bath. Remus chuckled as he stood before the mirror, looking at his reflection and raising his wand. It was finally time to go home. He hoped that Hermione had fared so well.

~

There was a brief moment as Remus was pulled through the mirror at some speed when he wondered if he would come out of the looking glass and land in the bath. He was, of course, quite relieved when he tumbled on the marble floor instead, skidding to a halt at someone’s feet. He laughed aloud when he looked up at Professor Dumbledore, who was gazing down at him with an amused and rather pleased expression, and scrambled up from the floor.

“Well done, Remus,” said the headmaster, clapping the young professor on the shoulder. “Some of us were becoming rather worried,” he commented, glancing over his spectacles at Severus and Hermione by the door and Harry on the other side of the room.

While Harry had arrived quite a while ago, the potions’ professor and Hermione had just arrived a few moments earlier. In the privacy of the prefects’ bath, they were permitted to stand close to one another again, but the journey upward from the secluded reading room had been less amicable due to the fact that a few students wandering the halls after lunch had been watching them.

Any who had seen the two would have believed it to be business as usual. Snape had looked surly, and Hermione had looked thoroughly victimized by his constant nasty remarks and his feigned, but rather realistic attempt to shrug her off as she had helped him along the corridor. It had been completely necessary, especially since they had encountered several Slytherins whose loyalties Severus found rather suspect.

“You certainly took your sweet time. What kept you?” asked the potions’ master.

Severus had been concerned and genuinely so, but he certainly wasn’t going to let Remus know that. He would never have heard the end of it if he had.

“A hallway full of demons, one of whom wished to chat,” answered Remus enigmatically. “And I had forgotten the password to the bath,” he admitted with a half smile.

“Typical,” snorted Severus, choosing to ignore the absurd seeming demon remark.

“Well, we are all very glad to see that you made it back safely, Remus,” said Hermione, giving Severus a quick glare.

“And I am glad to be here,” he told her with a nod. “Now, what about Ginny? Is she all right?” Remus asked Professor Dumbledore.

“She will be fine. Miss Weasley is in the hospital wing, where I believe another of our number also has an appointment,” said Albus, looking at Severus quite pointedly. “Perhaps we should all go and visit her.

Ginny had regained consciousness not long after Madam Pomfrey had begun to apply a cooling and healing balm to the shallow scratches across her back, which were then bandaged. Ginny was very fortunate. The injuries could easily have been worse by far. Remus had acted faster than Hermione and Ginny had managed to act when Severus had been in similar straits.

“Where’s Remus?” she asked Madam Pomfrey quietly.

“Quiet now. You need to rest while those nasty marks heal,” Pomfrey cautioned her.

She had sent Ginny’s brother with Professor McGonagall to speak to his family because the young man was making a nuisance of himself. Mister Weasley had been under foot in the hospital wing, which was something Madam Pomfrey never encouraged. She hoped Minerva would send him elsewhere when she returned.

“But I want to see Remus. Where is he?” she questioned with some persistence.

“On his way, I’m sure,” was the mediwitch’s answer.

Ginny closed her eyes and felt her stomach knot. Her faith in Remus was very strong, but not unshakable. She wasn’t certain how long she had been unconscious. It was only about half an hour, if that, but Ginny had expected, when she opened her eyes, she had expected or at least hoped that Remus would be there. Ginny shivered. Something must have happened, or he would be there.

“Don’t fret, child. Remus is much stronger than you think. He only looks frail and tired,” Madam Pomfrey told her, sensing her rising anxiety. “Believe me, I’ve known him many years longer than you have, dear,” she chuckled.

“Thank you,” whispered Ginny.

Ginny was beginning to drift to sleep, thanks to the potions and treatments Madam Pomfrey had given her and applied to her injuries, when she heard the sound of quiet voices nearby and felt someone gently brushing her hair from her face. Fingertips lovingly caressed her cheek.

“And she will recover fully?” questioned a grave and quiet masculine voice.

“Oh, yes, Remus, Ginny Weasley will be just fine. She needs several days of bed rest, of course, and I would like to examine her again in a few days just to be safe. But otherwise I believe that she can be released when she wakes up,” she heard Madam Pomfrey saying.

“Can I go now then?” Ginny mumbled as she lifted her eyelids and smiled sleepily at Remus.

Remus grinned when he heard her speak and leaned down to kiss her. She met him half way. They kissed until Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall both cleared their throats. Remus and Ginny both blushed slightly as they broke their kiss and he pulled away.

“Certainly,” said Poppy, trying to look rather stern, but failing. It was impossible not to smile at the sight of the pair. “I have another patient to attend to,” she added, nodding toward the privacy screens at the back of the ward where Severus and Hermione were waiting for her.

“Miss Weasley, your parents will be here shortly. I have asked your brother to have Miss Brown bring a change of clothes for you in anticipation of their arrival,” Professor McGonagall informed her. Lavender Brown was a prefect for Gryffindor house.

“Thank you, professor,” said Ginny.

“I am very glad to have all my students back where they belong, and I have been informed that you handled yourself very well. I must say that I am quite proud,” said McGonagall before turning on her heel and leaving Ginny with Remus.

“That’s a high compliment,” Remus remarked when the older professor had gone.

“I know.”

“You look much better than when you went through the mirror.”

“I feel better too. It hardly hurts at all.”

“It does my heart good to hear you say that,” he said.

Ginny propped up on one elbow and told him, “You saved my life, Remus! You should hardly sound, much less feel, apologetic about what happened.”

“But I should have protected you ...”

“You did,” she insisted stubbornly.

Remus chuckled and said, “Whatever you say, Ginny.”

They were quiet for a moment before she asked him, “Where do we go from here, Remus?”

“Well, I imagine you are going to Gryffindor Tower as soon as Miss Brown brings your things. And it looks like a night in the Shrieking Shack for me.”

“What? Why?” she asked in confusion.

“The potions’ accident destroyed the supply Severus had in this realm of existence along with many other draughts he keeps on hand in the classroom, though I don’t really understand how, so there isn’t enough Wolfsbane potion for tonight, especially since Severus didn’t have sufficient time to brew that additional cauldron. I need somewhere to transform tonight, and the headmaster suggested that I return to my old haunt, so to speak.”

Remus looked tired and uncomfortable as he glanced toward the door to the hospital wing. Ginny squeezed his hand and gazed questioningly into his sad eyes. She had not heard what the demon had said to him. She was not ready to understand such things, but one day, he hoped that she would be ready and that he could tell her how it felt walking through the ranks of creatures who considered him one of there own, hardly better than a blood-thirsty monster.

“What’s the matter?” she questioned.

“Nothing, Ginny. It’s still early yet. I can stay and talk to your parents if you would like,” he offered.

“Don’t worry about it, Remus. Try to rest up for tonight. I imagine that you will need your strength,” she told him.

Remus grinned. She understood so much. It took his breath away to think how understanding and how kind young Ginny was. He kissed her cheek and nodded.

“Then I will see you tomorrow,” he said.

As Remus left, Ginny realized that he had never truly answered her question. Where would they go from there, she puzzled as she continued to wait.



It was late that evening after many students had gone to bed or curled up in a soft chair with a good book, hours after the Gryffindor welcome home party for Hermione and Ginny, when the former of these two students found herself standing outside the apartment of her head of house who had wanted to see her. Professor McGonagall had not said in reference to what, but Hermione had a feeling that it was about Severus Snape and her relationship with him. Hermione knocked and took a deep breath. She wasn’t precisely certain whether McGonagall objected or not, but she was certain that the older witch knew, as did the headmaster and Poppy Pomfrey among a few others, though the relationship was going to be a secret one. And perhaps it was better that way.

“Come inside, Miss Granger,” said Professor McGonagall as she opened the door. The transfigurations' professor was wearing her emerald colored robes.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Indeed,” nodded the professor. “I wanted to tell you that you are free to use my floo at anytime. It wouldn’t be easy to enter or exit the dungeons undetected otherwise, and Severus has informed me of his wish that your comings and goings go unseen and unremarked, for his sake as well as your own,” McGonagall told her.

Hermione looked at her with a thunderstruck expression for a moment. She had not expected help from her head of house, whose rivalry with her Slytherin counterpart was well known, though perhaps more a matter of simple tradition than anything else.

“Thank you, professor,” she stammered.

“You know, Miss Granger, I had something of an infatuation with one of my professors when I was about your age.”

“Really?”

“Most students do at this school. It is almost like something of a tradition. If they were to make a rule against such things, three quarters of the student population would suffer and at least two of our professors would quit on principal. It would have been three at one time ...” she said with a soft sigh. Unfortunately, Hermione wasn’t privy to the rumors concerning Professor Sinistra.

“What happened in your case, professor? I want to know because ... I don’t know anyone else who’s walked this road, so to speak, except Ginny, but she hasn’t seen anymore of it than I have. Unless I’m prying ...”

“Not at all. I ... I chose to keep my feelings hidden from him and admire him from afar ... for the most part, though we were and are good friends. In the end I guess that I chose not, as you have phrased it, to walk that road at all. And I suppose I regretted my decision. I still do. Sometimes. Especially recently.”

“I hope that I won’t regret mine. It won’t be easy, especially with the war ... But I think it’s worth the risk. I think he is definitely worth the risk.”

Professor McGonagall smiled at her and said, “I have known our potions professor for sometime, Miss Granger, and I can assure you that there is far more to him than meets the eye. But you are correct. It will not be easy.”

“They say the course of true love never runs smooth.”

“That they do,” she agreed. “Permission to use my floo wasn’t the only reason I asked you here this evening, of course,” said McGonagall.

“Really, professor.”

“Have you considered what you will do upon graduation?”

“I was planning to apply for a position at the Ministry.”

“Unless you have your heart set on that idea, I would offer you an alternative. Professor Dumbledore has suggested that I find an assistant to help me to teach transfigurations. My other responsibilities have become heavier as of late and will only grow more burdensome as the war against Voldemort progresses. Even then, I am not so young as I was and teaching so many classes while also juggling the duties associated with being deputy-headmistress and the head of Gryffindor house is quite tiring and stressful. You are an excellent student, Miss Granger, and I would be pleased, more than pleased, to offer the position to you.”

Hermione was speechless. She could only stare at her professor as she felt slightly giddy at the thought of remaining at Hogwarts and teaching.

“It would, of course, keep you close to Severus, which I imagine could be quite desirable. Do not feel compelled to accept the offer, however, as I know that the Ministry would also benefit from your talents. I have other candidates to choose from, though I must say that you are my first choice, Hermione,” Professor McGonagall added with an uncharacteristically warm smile.

“Of course I accept!” said Hermione. “I would love to have the job.”

“Then consider it yours.”

“Thank you, professor. This means so much to me.”

There was suddenly a rather timid knock at the door of the apartment.

Stepping toward a tea set by the hearth, Professor McGonagall asked Hermione, “Would you please let Miss Weasley in while I pour us all a cup of tea?”

“Of course, but how do you ...?” Hermione began to ask as she stepped toward the door.

“An old trick Albus taught me quite some time ago,” replied McGonagall. For a moment her eyes seemed to twinkle.

Ginny gave Hermione an odd look when she opened the door for her. She had spent much of the evening getting her courage up in order to visit her head of house and transfigurations' teacher. She was rather surprised to find Hermione there.

“I suppose you’ve come for advice too,” laughed the older girl, ushering Ginny inside.

“I suppose I have,” agreed Ginny with a chuckle.

“About Remus?” Professor McGonagall questioned, indicating that the two young women should sit while she served the tea.

“Not exactly. I think I know where I stand with Remus and how I feel about him and all. I wanted advice concerning advanced transfigurations. I think I want to study to become an Animagus,” Ginny explained. “Mainly so that I can always be with Remus during his transformations, potion or no,” she added.

“Becoming an Animagus isn’t an easy thing. It requires years of study and dedication, and many people fail to achieve their goal, especially if they do not have the gift,” McGonagall warned.

“I know, but I have to at least try. Do you think I could possibly do it?”

“Perhaps.”

“Would you help me, professor?”

Minerva looked at Ginny for a few moments, trying to figure out what she would become if she had the necessary skill and dedication to transfigure herself into an animal. She would be a true and faithful canine, McGonagall surmised. A collie perhaps or maybe a sheep dog. Both loyal and brave beasts. She could see the ability in Ginny, in her earnest and determined eyes.

“Yes, Miss Weasley, I will,” she agreed.

“Thank you.”

“You may not thank me when this matter is concluded. I meant what I said. Such training is grueling and not for the faint of heart. But I believe ... that you will do fine with the proper amount of time, effort, and determination.”

A few minutes later as they finished up their tea, Minerva glanced at the time and told the pair, “It is getting late and I am expecting a guest soon. Perhaps you two should return to the dormitories.”

“Of course,” nodded Hermione, noticing for the first time that Professor McGonagall appeared to have spruced herself up at bit.

She could not help smiling as they left. It appeared that their head of house was going to have a gentleman caller.

For her part, Hermione went quite gladly back to her dormitory for a good night’s sleep in her own bed, which was thoroughly deserved and had been equally missed during the escapade in the prison realm. Ginny had other plans and instead of going up to the sixth year dormitory where her year mates were sleeping, she crept out of Gryffindor Tower and stole through the empty and unpatroled hallways of the castle until she reached Remus’s private rooms.

The door was unlocked as Remus had not bothered to lock or ward the door when he went to visit professor Snape that evening ages and ages ago before any of them had been exposed to the world on the other side of the mirrors. Ginny stepped inside and found her way to a comfortable scarlet and gold couch in front of the fireplace, where a blaze was crackling against the chill of the night. She curled up upon the sofa and waited for the coming dawn, intending to see Remus as soon as he returned from the Shrieking Shack.

Above, in the tower of the Gryffindors, two aging lions discussed old times and old feelings, which had withstood the test of time and other trials, while their students slept, some in their beds and some in other places. The castle’s potions’ master rested peacefully in the hospital wing while the young woman who was fast falling completely and utterly in love with him lay in her own bed curled up beneath several layers of blankets and dreamed of his dark and beautiful eyes. A young and brave professor in werewolf form bayed at the full moon and snarled at the shadows within the confines he had known as a teenager. But within a small portion of his mind he still held the image of a young witch with red hair who could look upon him with eyes of compassion, understanding, and love. And that young woman slept contentedly in his rooms and dreamed of her sweet Remus’s return.

And all was well within the castle walls that night, though there would be few nights so serene thereafter. A war was upon them, but for a single night, the world seemed to be at peace, for they themselves were at peace. Love was blossoming, for some after long and countless winters. It was spring again in their hearts. And they were strengthened for the trials ahead.

The End

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