Gentle Rain

Chapter 7 - Third Visit

Hermione was extremely nervous the whole next day. It was the first time ever she couldn't quite concentrate on her work, and one sweet third-year Hufflepuff girl asked if she was feeling all right, because of her unusual absent-mindedness. Yes, she was all right, but she knew that Professor Snape was not, and it meant that any moment now her Youfinder could beep, and send her rushing to his chambers.

Seven past nine, it finally startled her with its unbearably high and loud voice. Oh f-word, why does he always has to feel worse so late at night. I would rather have corrected History essays of fifth-years' Hermione grumbled as she grabbed her robes and directed her steps towards the door. Love what you fear... uh huh, that's not an easy one. But if Harry could love Voldemort, I certainly can force myself to love Snape... Love Snape... the combination of those two words made her shudder. Not in this lifetime, but yes, I know Harry didn't mean it that way, not so literally.

Professor Snape was waiting for her, already lying on his bed, face down. Even though he didn't actually cry with joy because of her appearance, he didn't mock her either. In fact, he seemed to be uncharacteristically timid. Hmm, that's promising, maybe my defence is already working, she thought hopefully.

"So, you had a little chat with Poppy Pomfrey, I heard," he said, with an almost civilised tone in his voice.

"Yes, it was the most enlightening." Hermione saw him flinch a little and asked, "Did you mind?"

"Why should I have?" he snarled.

"Well, I learnt some, one might say, rather personal information about you."

"I couldn't care less."

The end of conversation.

Hermione spread the magically shining liniment, with much more respect towards it than before. Movements of her hands were so much firmer than in her earlier visits, and it wasn't left unnoticed by professor Snape either. He needed to use all his self-control not to let even the tiniest moan to escape from between his lips. The pleasure flew into every cell of his tormented body the minute she laid her hands on him. It was gorgeous, like a gentle rain, right from heaven. He couldn't afford to let himself to drown under it, not now, not in front of her.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, what do you think about my situation?" Professor Snape suddenly asked her.

This can't be happening, do I have something wrong with my ears, or did he just ask my opinion, in a civilised way? Hermione thought, puzzled.

"Could you be more specific, please? What about it, I mean?" she managed to utter in a total astonishment.

"Madam Pomfrey has repeatedly emphasised that there needs to be some inner change, some kind of an emancipation, before the full recovery can take place. I was curious to know, since you have already heard about it from her, and I am most certain that you have established your own point of view by now." Bullshit, I don't give a damn about her opinions; I just need something else to think about other than this... this sensation.

"Well... she did mention something about an iron cage, and that you needed to free yourself from it," Hermione started uncertainly, "And I've been thinking, that first of all you would need a little bit of defiance, to be able to do that. I mean, if one loves his prison... it's difficult to, you know, flee from there. So a little bit of wilfulness... to be free, I suppose." What on earth am I babbling about? She almost started to blame herself, but then, just in time, she recalled Harry's words: 'Not to be ashamed of yourself...' Okay, I said what I said, and if it didn't make any sense, so what. At least I wasn't defending my doctoral dissertation. Hermione felt a wonderful relief, when she allowed herself to be what she was at the moment, not regretting the less than perfectly ingenious words.

"You have some nerve to come here to tell me what I need and don't need. You know nothing about my needs or about me either. I don't want your ridiculous advice, save it for those pathetic pupils of yours, please," Severus snapped at her quicker than a gunshot. Hermione's eyes opened in surprise for a moment, and then, something peculiar happened. She started to laugh. Not sarcastic laughter, but clear, beautiful and pure laughter of warm amusement.

"Excuse me then, but if I haven't had a sudden amnesia, I do believe that it was you who wanted to hear my opinion. I answered your question, remember?" Hermione saw Professor Snape's appearance darken but she herself felt nothing but loving. It's working! I can't wait to tell Harry that his training is bearing fruit so soon. This is magnificent. I have to thank him first thing tomorrow!

"You know, Professor, there is an old poem. I think it suits your situation very well, and no, I'm not interested if you want to hear it or not, I'll tell you anyway:

Child knows what the sky means to the dove,
Life pours its magic onto every wilful soul,
Just a little bit of wilfulness,
And it touches,
Like a gentle rain."

Oh my, what next, an Old Irish folkdance maybe? There seems to be something different in her, though. That's not her normal style of behaviour, or is it? I wonder what's going on with her... not that I'm interested in any way!

"Child knows what the sky means... For me those phrases tell about the situation where everything is new and everything is possible. It's when you are not a prisoner of your thoughts or beliefs anymore. Your belief system is the worst cage there is. It will ruin your life, if you let it. Life wants to pour its magic into everyone. It's up to you to let it touch you, like a gentle rain, invigorating and refreshing your whole being, your soul!"

Her cheeks glowing she finished her preaching, corny or not, and straightened her spine proudly. Then she finished her job and wished professor Snape a good night. With a smile on her face she left for her own chambers in order to get a nice and long night's sleep. She almost danced in the corridor. This was her very first victory, and she felt like celebrating!

.................................................................................................................................................................

The next morning, after the third treatment by Hermione, Severus Snape felt awful. Not physically, the massages had left a light and warm feeling all over his body, and he was very grateful for that. No, he felt sad, really, truly sad, maybe the first time, in so many years that he couldn't even remember. Not angry, not bitter, not despising, but just sad. In fact he felt like crying, but didn't know why and what for, so he didn't bother.