Sleepless Nights

Sleepless Nights

Chapter Two:

Back in the Saddle Again

"I'm back in the saddle again,

Riding the range once more,

Toting my old forty-four.

Where you sleep out every night,

And the only law is right,

Back in the saddle again."

Gene Autry

"So?" asked Harry through a mouthful of eggs. "What was it you were planning on telling us later?"

Hermione chewed on her jelly-laden biscuit and tried to use the time to create an answer with which they'd be satisfied. As hopeless as that idea sounded, it was a valiant effort.

She swallowed, and time was up. "I'll tell you tomorrow, and in my room. This has to be private."

Harry nodded and resumed his chewing, while Ron frowned at his goblet.

"What'd it do this time, Ron?" Hermione teased. "Did the orange juice threaten to reveal your secret of the art of Divination?"

He laughed half-heartedly. Hermione leaned over and pecked him on the cheek in an attempt to make him look at her. It failed, but she had managed to make his ears turn pink.

"Ron, what is it?"

Finally, she was getting results. He took her hand and mumbled, "Nothing, Hermione. And that's just the problem. You don't really seem to care that you're stuck with the greasy git for two months, and I don't really feel like you and I are going anywhere."

Hermione took her free hand and brushed it along the side of his head. "It's because you won't let it, dear. Loosen up, will you? I want us to go somewhere."

He nodded "I'm sorry."

She laughed. He grinned in response. "I love it when you laugh."

"And I love it when you smile. You should do it more often."

"I could say the same for you," he retorted happily.

Harry joined in. "And I promise to make an A in Potions this year if you'll both do it more frequently."

"That's a pie-crust promise Harry; easily made, easily broken," Ginny quoted from beside him.

"Well, what would you suggest?"

Ginny blushed, and Harry knew what she was thinking. "Ginny, would you like to accompany me on the next trip to Hogsmeade?"

"Only if my protector agrees." She turned to Ron, and he nodded.

"It's a date!" promised Ginny. Hermione felt happy for them. Ginny had been pining for Harry as long as she had known the girl, and Hermione noticed that Harry had seemed to finally be warming up to her.

"I wonder what Professor Lupin has planned for this morning," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Harry and Hermione shrugged. "I dunno," replied The-Boy-Who-Flunked-Potions. "He hasn't really seemed to be concentrating on our lessons so far. There hasn't been a theme, if you know what I'm saying."

"I agree. There hasn't been a pattern, and he hasn't even assigned us a textbook yet." Hermione had been the first in their year to point out the lack of summer reading.

"Maybe your wish will come true 'Mione, and he'll finally give us large, heavy books to memorize overnight only to use half of it in class." Hermione punched Ron lightly for his teasing, but couldn't resist a small smile.

"Well, I'm off. You two lovebirds can join me if you want." Harry stood up and grinned lop-sidedly.

"Talk about the pot calling the ket-" Hermione started to joke, but Ron pulled her up by the elbow and the Aspiring Marauders left the Great Hall, heads together and plotting that night's escapade.

***

Everyone sat and whispered excitedly as Professor Lupin walked from his office to behind his desk. He tapped his wand on the blackboard, sending a rainbow of sparks around the class. The students immediately fell silent, but not the tense silence that filled the dungeons. It was a silence found only in interesting classes full of people eager to learn.

"I know that some of you have been wondering why you weren't assigned a textbook at the beginning of the year." His eyes twinkled as they rested on Hermione for a moment, and she let hers twinkle right back. "And that was because I was trying to convince the Ministry to allow me to give the seventh years a special class.

"It took this long not because of our new Minister, Arthur Weasley, but because of the faculty here at Hogwarts. Finally they've given in, and I'm allowed to start with the actual classes."

Many people were stirring in their seats. Lupin smiled and continued. "What I've been planning is, in a sense, another history class."

Everyone but Hermione groaned loudly. Lupin raised his hands in self-defense, and the sounds of woe subsided. "But I assure you that I won't be half as boring as Professor Binns. The kind of history I was planning on teaching was Dark Arts history. More specifically, however, the histories of Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort." Only three people in the room refrained from twitching.

"Now, I am sorry for the delay, but when you visit Hogsmeade this Saturday, I ask you to purchase The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts by Ululia Morose and The Twentieth Century's Greatest Fears by Ordane Killjoy. We'll start going over the texts next week."

Lupin murmured sat down and pulled out some papers from a drawer.

He cleared his throat and the two whispers belonging to Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown instantly died out. "Before next week, I want to ask each of you something: What is the difference between Lord Voldemort and Adolf Hitler?"

Hermione nearly fell out of her chair. He couldn't be serious, could he? Lord Voldemort practically was Adolf Hitler. Didn't everybody realize that?

But the murmurs of confusion brought her back to reality with a thud. As much as some wizards had participated in World War II, the Nazis' leader had not been Hitler or Mussolini. Rolf Grindelwald and Mia Lebanacci had led them. Only the Muggle-born, perhaps a few half bloods, and Muggle-Studies students would know what he was talking about.

Lupin smiled gently and raised a hand to still the whisperings. "Perhaps I should explain who Hitler was. From 1933 to 1945, Adolf Hitler was Chancellor of Muggle Germany. He founded the Nazi party, and tried to take over Europe. He told people that blue-eyed, blonde-haired Germans were superior, though he himself had black hair and dark eyes. He caused the deaths of over six million Jews though his own grandfather was Jewish, Romas (or gypsies), homosexuals, retarded and other persons he deemed unfit to live. If you're interested to go in depth on this bulk of history, see me later and I will consider suggesting resources and a possible essay for extra credit. And Miss Granger," he added with a sly grin, "I will not permit you to be working on three projects for my class, so don't bother asking.

"But back to the subject. Can anyone start naming similarities?"

Three hands shot into the air. Hermione was surprised to find that besides herself and Harry, Lavender Brown had also risen her hand. Professor Lupin didn't turn a hair.

"Yes, Lavender?"

"They both persecuted a party they shared a history with," she stated clearly.

The words appeared on the board behind him in a shorthand version.

"Harry, do you have something to add?"

"Their looks and was contradictory to the beliefs they supported," Harry mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, but the words appeared under Lavender's anyway.

"And Hermione?" Lupin requested with a nod of his head.

"They were both geniuses."

Several chairs scraped against the floor as people turned around to stare at her.

Nevertheless, the words appeared on the board.

"I know what you are talking about, Hermione, but perhaps you could explain it better than I? I'm feeling a little tired." He gestured up at his desk, and Hermione, heart pounding inside her chest, stepped up to the podium where Lupin usually stood.

She looked around the classroom and realized what a strategic view this was. It put everyone but the farthest corner in clear view so notes could not pass across the aisle without her seeing. Every student's face was visible as well as the top of his or her desk. Hermione cleared her throat and began, picking up speed as she grew more comfortable with her words.

"Hitler can be proven as a genius thorough his IQ, and Tom Riddle was top of every class when he was at Hogwarts. Hitler's speeches held good ideas for a decaying country, though I think his mistake was both violence and egomania for Germany. He told the citizens to help the economy by purchasing German products and supplied jobs through a police force, however warped their minds were by poverty. His organization was supreme and he installed a sense of detail, curiosity, and obstinacy that helped get the people back on their feet, but seemed to have a power of its own. Eventually it gripped the people, and after the invasion of Rhineland and the Evian Conference, Hitler realized that people weren't trying to stop him. Then he invaded Poland, and war waged for the next seven years.

"Tom Riddle was the top student of each of his classes, Slytherin Prefect, and Head Boy. He graduated as Valedictorian and accepted a job at our own Ministry of Magic in the Defense Department. We all know he went on to found organizations - his more exclusive one called 'Death Eaters'. The first public attacks by these groups of people were eleven years before his downfall - in 1970. The victims were parents of Muggle-born students at Hogwarts. Massacres, murders, attacks, and battles raged across Europe with Dark Creatures on both and neither sides. He took steps through hatred to prevent his death and met an even worse fate through a mother's love. I don't think it necessary for me to explain it any further."

She stepped down from the podium and faintly heard Remus say, "Twenty points to Gryffindor. Couldn't have put it better myself."

Her seat in the back of the classroom never felt so welcome. Nevertheless, as Hermione took notes, she could sometimes catch either Harry or Ron staring at her.

***

It was Thursday, so Hermione trudged down to the dungeons, arriving promptly at seven o'clock. She left with a hug from Ron, and Harry had promised to smuggle as much Butterbeer as he could from Hogsmeade to help her recover from her session with the "Living Dementor."

Her bag contained plenty of quills, ink, and index cards (her favorite research tool). Professor Snape nodded at the desk in front that sagged under the weight of the books. She noted with some hint of indignancy that he was grading second year essays as he assigned her weeks worth of reading. Secretly, she was thrilled to have it all to herself.

After sitting down, she took out a large stack of note cards and her sharpest quill and began writing furiously. She paused only to turn a page, or re-dip the quill into her inkpot. Each book was larger and more precise than the last, and they were all on Transfiguration.

Hermione was on her third book (Shape-Shifters: Were They Animaji?) when Professor Snape stood up from his desk. She looked up from the words, but her hands organized the cards while her eyes focused on his.

He glared at her hands, almost daring them to keep moving, and they obediently stopped.

"What I was planning on saying to you was perhaps you could use tomorrow to set a time for an interview with Professor McGonagall, Madam Malkin, and Sirius Black." A sneer took hold of his lips as he said the latter's name. "Professor McGonagall will most certainly be more available than Madam Malkin and Mr. Black, and you will most likely have to execute his interview under Ministry supervision.

"Which also brings up another point, Miss Granger. I realized last night that we have not received a permit from the Ministry of Magic to conduct our experiment. We have... (He looked at the watch on his wrist) thirty minutes to compose a letter together, if you would like, and we could send it by nine-thirty tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"'Yes, sir,' what?" he snapped. He hated uncertainty; that was what made Longbottom his, to beat around the bush, least favorite pupil. The boy's lack of qualification was infuriating to say the least.

"Yes, sir, I think that sending our letter tonight would be ideal."

"Good, because we would have written it tonight whether you would like it or not." Hermione almost laughed. Her gruff and hostile professor sounded like her mother when it was... well, her "feminine time of the month."

Hermione closed the books that were open on her desk, stacked them neatly next to her notes, and stood up from her desk. "Should I go over there, or do you want to come over here?" 'Wonderfully phrased, Hermione,' she scolded herself.

But Professor Snape didn't seem to mind. Instead, he gestured to the door that haunted every Gryffindors' nightmares: the door to his office.

Hermione had heard nightmares about seeing the preserved hearts of unfortunate students with labels on the jars something like, "Sixth year: poor finals," and, "Fifth year: wouldn't cease verbal actions." A quick glance at the walls confirmed her disbelief in these tales of horror. Animal parts stored in formaldehyde and dried plants hanging from the ceiling were the only items that might make an already quivering student even more nervous. A few bookcases were scattered around the room; all of them were a dark wood and very plain. The chairs looked horrid to sit in, and sitting confirmed her suspicions. It was not the most comfortable room in Hogwarts, but she decided that it suited its purpose, and that was all that really mattered.

Professor Snape pulled out a notepad from his desk and a quill, handed them to her, and plainly stated: "Write this down." Hermione nodded, got as comfortable as she could hope to be, and switched her brain onto instinct mode.

"Dear Ministry of Magic, Department of Science Experimentation:

"Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, and Hermione Granger, Head Girl, request permission to create a potion that would allow one to become an Animagus. We will be performing these experiments on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and funds taken from the school's budget, not the government's.

"The aforementioned will conduct three interviews of accomplished Animaji: Prof. Minerva McGonagall, Madam Malkin, and Sirius Black. The latter will require authorized supervision, which the Ministry will need to supply.

"The Ministry will have access rights at all times to the gathered information and collected data, and if the solution is found, will report it immediately.

"We await your return owl."

Hermione added the final period, looked up, and blinked. "Is that it?"

"Unless there is something you think is important enough to add." His voice was as hard as nails and as cold as ice. It seemed like he was daring her to challenge him.

She shrugged. "I think we should sign it."

He lifted an eyebrow, then nodded. "It's not standard procedure, but it's not against policy. I will sign it when I rewrite it this afternoon -"

"Professor? Would you mind if I wrote it up? I... er..." She looked over his shoulder at the label reading, "Dog Liver," in a very illegible scrawl. He nodded in understanding, then left the office and went back to his desk in the classroom outside. She gave a weary sigh, then joined him.

Hermione pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and a new bottle of ink and began transforming her rough draft into a formal letter. Her handwriting was neat and tidy, but thin and purposeful. She had to remind herself several times to keep her handwriting the same size and not shrink it down to its normal size. After she signed her name, she crossed the classroom to Professor Snape's desk and placed it beside his hand to await his signature. He simply lifted his hand from marking through an entire paragraph, scratched his name hastily across the bottom, and went back to his cruel grading.

Hermione went back to her bag, pulled out a candle, match, and un-engraved stamp and proceeded to seal the letter. She turned to leave for the Owlery, but Professor Snape halted her by saying, "Wait."

Hermione turned around to explain that it would save time for her to go and deliver the owl, but the solution flew in with a flurry of feathers. "He knows when he's wanted," Professor Snape murmured. He was a purely black eagle, not a single spot of white or color anywhere on him. His cold gaze was as piercing as his master's was, and his back was just as rigid. His eyes fastened on Hermione with a bitter judgement, and Hermione was determined not to blink. It was exactly like staring down a Hippogriff. Professor Snape raised a hand and stroked its head. Its eyes rolled back in its head in a sort of intoxicated pleasure, but Hermione could only think of how the dark feathers made her Professor's skin seem even paler.

"He respects you," whispered Snape, and Hermione looked up, startled. "Which is more than I can say for most people. Consider yourself fortunate."

The word Fortunate rang inside her mind with a question. "Why am I fortunate?"

"I haven't milked him within the last month. If he decided to kill you right now, it would merely require a prick of your skin with his talons to succeed."

Hermione's eyes grew wide with shock, and she managed to gasp, "Why haven't you milked him, then?"

"The longer he stays un-milked, the more potent the poison becomes. After some time, it becomes a very strong ingredient in Potions. It is one of the more crucial ingredients in Veritaserum, as a matter of fact." He lifted his hand from its head and held it out. She slowly moved towards his desk, keeping both of her eyes on the vicious bird.

Hermione placed the letter in his open palm, then paused, unconsciously keeping her fingers on the envelope. Professor Snape made a small noise with his throat and tugged lightly on the letter. She released it and blushed. "Sorry." She took a deep breath and said, "What breed is it?"

Professor Snape talked as he tied the letter to its leg. Its unnerving eyes kept fixed upon Hermione. "It's a cross breed. Its mother is part Augurey, part owl. Its father is part eagle, part Occamy. Very rare, and very expensive."

Hermione barely refrained from snorting at this last remark. 'How like a Slytherin to think that price is an adjective.'

Her watch beeped; it was nine-thirty. Slowly, she turned around and walked back to the desk where her things were. "Leave the books there," Snape called after her as Hermione slung the bag over her shoulder.

"Good night Professor," she mumbled as she closed the door. "Good night...?"

"Surreptitious."

'What an odd name,' she thought. "Good night Surreptitious." The door clicked shut.

"You wished him good night?" gasped a voice behind her.

Hermione jumped at least a foot and spun around to face her boyfriend. "Shit! Ron, you could have given me a heart attack!"

He had the grace to blush. "Sorry. Just thought you'd like me to be here when you got out of detention." He laughed, and Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," laughed Ron, his cheeks glowing and his shoulders shaking. "I just never thought I would be the one waiting for you to get out of detention."

Hermione smiled in appreciation, and the irony did seem to strike a chord within her. "I guess that is funny."

Her arm looped through his and began to lead them back to Gryffindor Tower. Her head rested on Ron's shoulder, and she smiled when he offered to carry her books for her. She accepted gratefully and grinned when he made a small grunting noise as he slung the bag over his other shoulder. The scent on his robes smelled of homemade biscuits, peppermint, and the tiniest bit of straw, making her noise tingle pleasantly. She sighed.

"You okay?" Ron asked, clearly worried.

"Everything's settled. My life's relaxing for once." Ron snorted. "What's so funny?" demanded Hermione.

"You are! Listen to you! You're Head Girl, top of all your classes, starting two months of detention with the Head of Slytherin House, you're a close friend of Harry Potter, and you have me for a boyfriend! You call your life relaxing!"

That thought dwindled in her mind for a moment. Then she too began to laugh. Ron grinned and squeezed her tight. Hermione beamed even brighter.

Harry was waiting for them outside Circe's portrait, engaged in a passionate conversation with her about his Transfiguration homework. Hermione winked at Circe, and the witch raised her willow and phoenix feather wand to transform her student quickly into a pig. He squealed loudly, even louder when he saw Hermione and Ron laughing. Circe mercifully changed him back.

He blushed, and Hermione gave the new password: "I solemnly swear I am not doing homework." Ron snorted, and Harry beamed. Ron sprawled out over the couch, Harry nestled down in a chair, and Hermione perched in her chair. A yawn overcame Harry, and Hermione smiled.

"What were you two doing last night?" she teased. "Don't tell me you've been sneaking out again."

Harry blushed. "Ron wasn't involved."

"Oh, really? Who was it, then? I've never known you to go off on your own."

"It was Ginny."

Ron's mouth fell open. Hermione merely smirked and asked, "Did you go to the Astronomy Tower or that empty classroom in the Charms Hallway?"

It had never occurred to Hermione how much her boyfriend could look like a fish. Harry, on the other, hand mumbled something that resembled "Quidditch pitch."

That did it: Ron Weasley had quite formally passed out.

***