As The Seasons Decay

He knew that he could never rid himself of that which was truly filthy. Who can sever one´s soul?

Hermione was awoken yet again, still without feeling truly rested. It was probably some sort of effect from the combined ingredients of the potions and her body´s natural resistance to rest. Perhaps she could research it later today in the library. No, that certainly wasn´t possible since she was restricted to this damnable hospital bed. What had she to occupy her time? There were no homework assignments as yet that needed completion...ah! There it was- Snape ought to be bringing in some Potions books for her to research. That should prove an interesting distraction from the flat squeaky clean white walls. They were enough to make anyone go crazy. Although she had to admit that her classmates, studious Ravenclaws included, would think her crazy already, burning with anticipation for a research project at seven on a Sunday morning. To each her own, though. The professor seemed not to be one who slept in, and his acidic comment last night confirmed that; but she still had no way of knowing when he would come by with her books. She sighed and looked about the hospital room once again. Thankfully, just as she was about to tear her eyes out from boredom, she heard muffled voices issuing from the other side of the door.

"Severus, what are you thinking? It´s bad enough that you didn´t report to me last...I don´t care that nothing...yes, I am aware that...no, I am NOT, but I do...we have been dissuaded since you began teaching. I DON´T CARE!! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DISTURB MISS. GRANGER´S MUCH NEEDED REST WITH WHATEVER INANE RESEARCH YOU WISH HER TO...do." Hermione, although she was out of bed and crouching next to the door, was unable to hear the quiet "shit" that followed Madame Pomfrey´s outburst. Which was probably a good thing, as it would have sent her into juvenile giggles. And God knows she felt juvenile enough, hunched over in her sterile white hospital night gown, trying to listen in on a conversation...and now with the added indignity off her Potions Master glaring down at her with an armload of deliciously thick looking tomes. She straightened hastily and brushed down the front of her gown, missing the miniscule spark of amusement as she attempted futilely to regain her composure and dignity.

"Sir. Thank goodness you are finally here. I was about to go crazy from this boring room. I can´t wait to get started on those books; and formulating ideas for the potion." The words were jerked from Hermione´s mouth as though Snape pulled them out, and her voice cracked on the last word. She winced at waited for the forthcoming bite of sarcasm.

"Right, Miss. Granger. So terribly sorry to have not jumped right over to keep you from boredom, my own schedule having no value, of course. And you will simply dive into these books headfirst and begin spouting brilliant and invaluable ideas, I am sure. But be that as it may, Madame Pomfrey seems rather insistent on the fact that you need a sabbatical from your workload. Something about finding the stress levels in your system off the charts." Here Severus paused momentarily, wondering just where his own stress levels would be. Somewhere off the fourth dimension, most likely. "And so you will begin your...tenure as my assistant only when you are at prime capacity." Snape would usually have taken pleasure at the way the young Gryfinndor´s face crumpled at the thought of losing research time and staying inured in an isolated room for a week, but the horror that filled her eyes reminded him sharply of a girl last night. A girl from whose eyes the horror would never be erased. Telling himself he was a fool, he pursed his lips severely before speaking, this time addressing Madame Pomfrey who had previously been hovering victoriously in the doorway. "Madame, it is in the best interest of the project and on Albus´sorders that this research begin immediately. This child is the best one for the job, and has nothing better to do with her life than assist me in these mundane and, I assure you, hardly taxing tasks which I myself am unable to find time for." Pomfrey was certainly a good enough sort, but the arrogance that dripped from his voice was the best way to ensure her complete and instant compliance. Sure enough, slightly flustered, the woman dipped her head in acknowledgement, then swept huffily away. Snape almost smiled. Then her turned back to the Granger girl.

Although Hermione certainly took umbrage at being called a child and the implication that she was so utterly beneath Snape, she was sincerely thankful that he had convinced Madame that she be allowed to assist his research now. Not that she´d ever tell him.

"A child, Professor? I hardly think so, considering that my 18^th birthday is only about a month away and that is NOT including the time the Time Turner added to my life." She glared at him challengingly, but was taken aback by the short, bitter laugh her words produced. The smile that twisted his lips was almost as dark as the look that filled his eyes, focused on her, but far away.

"They´re never too young." He shook his head tauntingly, then his eyes returned to normal and his focus fixed on her. "These are rather obviously the books with which I wish you to begin research. The potion is described in this parchment here and I see that you have your school apparatus already up here. I will expect a thorough catalogue of anything of interest by the time I return here after dinner." With a curt nod, he deposited the books with a flick of the long, dark wand he pulled from the depths of his robes on the table beside her bed, moving a quill and several pieces of parchment up there as well. This would save her having to do it manually, as she wasn´t supposed to do any magic for about 48 hours after so serious a malady. He was gone before she could say anything, so Hermione merely shrugged and returned to bed, eager to get at the veritable treasure trove of books. First, she would of course begin with the explanation of the potion they were trying to create or modify, or whatever...

Several hours later, Hermione was roused from the trance-like state that she had fallen into upon beginning the reading. She was not certain that she understood the explanation of the potion, which had been written, deceptively, on an Ever-Growing Parchment, so that what looked like a page was really a volume. There were a few salient points that she wished to discuss with the Professor, but she had no idea how to get in contact with him. She somehow had doubts as to whether Madame Pomfrey would carry a message, and she was her only link to the outside world. Neither Harry nor Ron had come and tried to see her as far as she knew.

The outline of the Project was to discover a basic formula for all Immortality and Death potions. Only in this way would it be possible, she supposed, to brew something which would counteract the powerful potion which had been ingested by Lord Voldemort the night of the final test of the Tournament. At once, it sounded simple, but that was not taking into account the fact that there were literally hundreds of potions for both of these things as well as variations on them and that their ingredients, the properties of their ingredients, and any possible substitute ingredients and their properties had to be cross-referenced if a pattern was to be found. It could quite possibly take years to achieve this task. Because of this, she knew that Snape must somehow have narrowed the possibilities down. Perhaps if the words on the page would stop swimming around, she would be able to concentrate and figure out what she was missing.

Harry looked sadly at his former girlfriend as she slipped once again back into the daze of academia. He had succeeded in rousing her from it for but a brief few moments, but she had not even glanced his way. He knew that she thought he was cold-hearted and hopeless. That he didn´t know what he had become-but she was wrong. He cared for her, but he couldn´t be with anyone he cared for. He knew that he was slowly- or quickly- turning evil and that Voldemort was gaining control over his thoughts and actions every time he failed to get out of this Gods-forsakenly safe castle and put an end to the evil which he felt out there. He could practically feel his morality ebbing from him, and this year he had made a vain attempt to make Hermione his lifeline to the moral world. Instead, he had ended up destroying their friendship, cutting all the lines. Harry, still unnoticed, slipped his Invisibility Cloak back on and slid silently out of the room, another layer added onto his shell.

Hermione did, however, look up when Madame Pomfrey came into the room. Only because the woman slammed the door and shouted her name. She looked up, wincing at the crick in her back from sitting on her bed in this awkward position for hours.

"Hermione Granger, are you aware of what time it is? It is three o´ clock in the afternoon, and you have been sitting here for hours upon hours with no respite or, might I add, lunch. I don´t care whether the Headmaster sanctioned this or not- and believe me, I have trouble believing that he would be party to such a venture as would make the Head Girl of this school abuse her already abused body in such a way. By Gods, girl; do you not realize that you ALMOST DIED? Just yesterday. You will hand those books over to me post-haste and then you will eat, and take a few potions that will assist you in a nice, restful sleep." Panting heavily and struggling to regain her composure, Madame Pomfrey straightened her robes and held out an imperious hand, though the effect was rather ruined by the fact that it was shaking erratically. Hufflepuffs weren´t well suited to rants.

Hermione had sat stock-still as the nurse raged at her, then she silently gathered the heavy tomes, almost falling off the bed in the process, and hefted them into the woman´s embrace. She struggled not to show any amusement when Pomfrey staggered about trying to compensate for the sudden added weight.

Finally, Madame Pomfrey was able to exit the room and, ostensibly, throw the books someplace. She returned a few moments later to find Hermione lying on the bed and she looked down at the girl. She had been too harsh; she knew that the girl was simply jumping at the chance to win acknowledgement from her most exacting professor. Her tender gaze darkened as her thoughts drifted to Professor Snape. The man was so stubborn- she was an expert in her field and yet he continually insulted her by never allowing her to work on him unless it was serious. Well, even though sleep was necessary for the healing process, the body couldn´t function without nutrients and Miss Granger hadn´t eaten since last night. And it would soon be her time of the month, too, so Madame knew the girl shouldn´t start off being malnourished. She left the room quietly and returned with a tray full of what the House Elves had assured her where "Herm-o-ninny´s" favorite foods.

"Hermione, dear, I know that you must be famished, wouldn´t you like some food? Of course you would. I´ll just set it here on the table and when you are ready to eat, all you have to do is point at it and it will turn into a nice lap tray. The House Elves all tell me that you really like these...foods." Madame´s kind voice trailed of in slight puzzlement as she couldn´t really figure out what half of the food was. Not proper English stuff, certainly, but the girl was entitled to her own tastes.

Hermione´s voice was rather muffled, stuffed on the pillow as it was.

"Thank you very much, Madame. I appreciate it and I really didn´t realize how much time had passed. Have a good afternoon." And then she stretched and pointed at the tray, making sure the good Mediwitch saw her take a bite of the eggplant parmesan and spear some of the moussaka. She also lifted the large café mocha with whipped cream and took a long sip, savoring the hot liquid as it slid won her rather parched throat. Her favorite foods, yes, even if it was a rather odd assortment of them. She had been inhaling dust from the books for hours, and she knew the only way Madame Pomfrey would let her do it later was if she acted like the perfect repentant patient. She was good at acting. She felt the woman nod in satisfaction and leave the room with a small woosh of fabric.

Severus stared with hooded eyes at the children, much too loud at this time of the morning. Of course, he thought that they were much too loud at any given time, so perhaps his opinion carried something of a bias. He hated breakfast foods, inevitably greasy things that they were. Or tastelessly healthy, he amended. He reached over to his right and picked up the enormous cup of coffee that sat there. His students would assume it was bitter and black, but the truth was that Severus liked nothing better than a steaming hot cup of mocha, although he detested whipped cream. Frothy, ephemeral and above all undignified additive that it was. He sipped slowly, savoring the delicious, almost sensual taste. Then a shrill voice at his left disturbed the minute amount of peace he had managed to seize for himself. Well, didn´t something always?

"Severus, how are you this morning? I heard you were called yesterday, so glad that you´re fine, I hope that we can make things work soon for the Cause, it will be so nice if we can have graduation in peace without this terrible fear hanging all over us." The words spilled from the mouth of little Flitwick as though the man had gotten into certain magickal substances well controlled by the Ministry. Stop it, he told himself. The man was simply a very perky and effervescent person. He simply detested the fact that the Charms Professor had to effervesce onto him. He turned an ice-sharp smile on the man, who immediately stopped smiling as he received the message Severus was trying to tell him.

"Won´t it?" was really `leave me the fuck alone and don´t ever bother me again.´ Could this be the reason the staff left the Potions Master alone for the most part? No, of course not. Severus glanced at the clock on the opposite side of the Hall and realized that he ought to continue his research. He wondered idly whether Granger had managed to get anything done at all. Well, he wasn´t concerned with her right now. All he knew was that he had some spare moments to work on the Project that might make all the difference to the Wizarding world and he was wasting it drinking coffee. He stalked from the Great Hall to no great surprise of the faculty or students. Snape was always in a bad mood.

Upon entrance to the Potions Laboratory, he didn´t give himself a moment to sooth his inner turmoil. To hell with his feelings. Or rather, his feelings were already in Hell, so why bother trying to get them out? Better just to get on with his work. He looked over the notes he had made after coming home from that...lovely little excursion last night. He had, as Dumbledore had foreseen, stayed up all night working on the Project: notes and compiling the research material for Granger. What he didn´t even admit to himself was that he was avoiding sleep, and the nightmares that would plague him even if he tried taking the strongest Dreamless Sleep Potion he was capable of brewing.

He had given the girl half of the research materials and kept the other half so that when she started squalling about how she simply couldn´t do anymore, how she had to make sure she passed the N.E.W.T.S and support Potter, he wasn´t too behind. Damn the Headmaster for making him rely on someone else. He had long ago learned that only heartbreak and anguish...and he was getting maudlin. He had been going without sleep for so long that he knew it was not lack of slumber that had triggered this. It was most likely a combination of the stress and the acts he had performed last night at Voldemort´s cheerful party. Again he could not help but compare himself to a pathetic lapdog, executing tricks at his Master´s orders. Even though he was awake, the events of last night still played in lurid color and detail across the panels of his inner eyelids. He clicked his teeth together once, and brushed all this ridiculous thought out of his head. It was useless to attempt to replay the events in order to absolve himself of some of the guilt or responsibility. He would never be absolved, and that was as it should be. So, the Vivre Potion contained a goat´s stomach, the left wing of a Cornish Pixie...

Because Hermione had been such a good patient when Madame Pomfrey was in her room before, she was allowed back her books and materials as she knew she would be. Her earlier actions might have been seen as capitulation by some of the less subtle Gryffindors, but Hermione had merely been plying a useful strategy. And it had worked.

Let´s see. There was often an ingredient from the insides of animals, so she made sure that she noted it. Also, wings of various sorts were often used. She had gone through only some of the myriad of potions listed here, though, so she decided to make a list of more ingredients before she came to false conclusions. She could just imagine the ridicule and fury in her teacher´s eyes if she got any of this wrong. To be entrusted with this much responsibility was incredible, and she was determined that she would not fail. Still, she wished that she could talk with Snape about where this was going, because she had a feeling that there might be another way to look at these things if she knew the objective. Yet again, she was faced with the quandary of how to get a hold of the man that the rest of the student body prayed fervently never to see other than in class.

What time was it? She had decided that it would be more prudent to stay on Madame Pomfrey´s good side, stuck within the woman´s clutches as she was for the next week. The only way that she was going to get as much done as she had vowed to Professor Snape was if she acted as though she was going to bed and taking breaks at all the right times. It was almost time for dinner, so she set her books aside, after finishing up the page she had just been doing, and tucked herself in to bed. When Madame Pomfrey came in with a tray a few minutes later, it looked as though Hermione had been sleeping for awhile, and the mediwitchs ent a fond look at her patient. She was such a good girl.

"Hermione, dear, its time for dinner. And since you have been so good about napping, you may continue your research for a few hours after you eat." Hermione flashed a brilliant smile at the witch, although she disliked the sugar sweet tone of voice used. She knew that the woman was really well-intentioned, but like Professor Snape, she couldn´t help but find her rather annoying. Well, perhaps the good woman would be more disposed to contact Professor Snape now that she was acting so good.

"Madame...is there anyway that you could get a hold of the Potions Master for me? I have a few questions for him and it would be such a help..." She let her innocent voice trail of in entreaty. Poppy Pomfrey smiled at the girl, but it didn´t seem quite real. It was obvious to Hermione that the woman, like any of the students, would rather do anything than seek out the surly Potions Professor.

A short struggle went on in Pomfrey´s mind, but she was truly a good woman at heart and could not resist Hermione Granger´s innocent charm. It would not be easy to find Snape and she had no doubt at all that her head would be bitten off when she dared interrupt him, but there was nothing for it. She sent the girl another smile, hoping that it did not look weak, and then turned around to go in search.

Severus Snape looked up from his research and realized that it was probably about dinnertime. He would have it sent down as he usually did on Sunday nights, and had clasped the small silver bell used for Summoning the House Elves, when he recalled the promise he had made to the Granger girl. In his wish to get away from the Infirmary, and Poppy, he had muttered something about reading whatever she had catalogued. On his way up to the Infirmary, he had been about to mutter a remark to himself about her guaranteed incompetence in whatever, if anything, she had gotten done today, but his innate honesty, so often disregarded, checked him. The truth was, the girl was good. Still, he harbored no high hopes for the results from a sick teenager on a Sunday. He strode through the heavy wooden doors, pushing them aside easily, and quickly entered the Infirmary. The door to Granger´s room was on his left, but as he turned to go in, he very nearly fell over the figure emerging.