A Certain Amount of Sense

Chapter 14

The next few days passed almost uneventfully for the majority of students in Hogwarts. Hermione's classmates and roommates were told by the proper authorities that she was indisposed and residing in the hospital wing. When pressed, they were told that she had somehow acquired the dragon pox and, as it was highly contagious, was being held under quarantine. Upon hearing this, both Lavender and Parvati immediately gave a frightened yelp and ran off to the nearest mirror to check their faces for signs of purple spotting. Later, Harry and Ron heard that they had burned Hermione's sheets. They also looked wary every time either of them approached, as if they might have contracted the disease too.

Draco had a hard time wiping the smug look off his face every time he saw the empty seat at the Gryffindor table during mealtimes. The angry stares he received from her two friends did nothing to dampen his glee. Only once did he lose his confidence, and that was the day they had had éclairs for dessert. He had looked up from his dish only to see Harry staring at him. Once he had caught Malfoy's eye, he had raised his hand- which was clenched about an éclair-into view and squeezed it violently, shooting the cream filling all over Lavender, who was sitting next to him. Draco couldn't believe it. The Boy Who Lived was actually smirking. At him.

In the Potions N.E.W.T.'s class, he realized that not having a partner was going to be detrimental to his grade. It was almost impossible to finish brewing a potion that was supposed to take two sets of hands when you only had one. He had expected Snape to somehow take this into account when he graded their assignments and was therefore surprised when he received his first Unsatisfactory, ever, in Potions. He was about to protest, but the look his Head of House gave him at that moment told him it would be better to stay silent.

Although both Ron and Harry wanted to visit Hermione, in the end, only Ginny went. Apparently, Ron had considered what Snape had told him and convinced Harry that it would be better if she didn't see them so soon after the attack. Harry conceded grudgingly. To compensate, he and Ron gave Ginny, between the two of them, an armload of Chocolate Frogs to give to her.

Which was why she was currently standing in front of the doors to the hospital wing, wondering how on earth she was going to knock when she couldn't free either one of her hands. She settled for tapping the door with her elbow. It made a rather insignificant sound that she was sure would be swallowed up by the vastness of the castle, but in a few moments, the door was opened by Madam Pomfrey.

"Come in, dear. Oh my, are all of those for Miss Granger?"

"Yes, ma'am. They're from Ron and Harry." A few spilt over and Madam Pomfrey made to catch them.

"How thoughtful of them. Unfortunately, Miss Granger has been on a rather strict diet. That is to say...."

"She hasn't been eating?" The nurse gave her a penetrating look and nodded. "Has she...has she said anything yet?" Once again she regarded Ginny before speaking.

"I suppose you already know what's happened to her." It was Ginny's turn to nod. "I won't lie and tell you that her recovery has been going well. She obviously needs something more than what I can give her, but she refuses to let us send for her parents and has asked for no one else. I quite simply do not know what to do." They stopped before the curtained-off area that Ginny assumed was where Hermione was lying. "I truly hope, Miss Weasley, that you will be able to help her, for I am afraid her condition is beyond me. I was trained to heal the body, not the soul." She pushed aside the curtains to reveal her patient.

Ginny was almost prepared for what she saw. Similar to the last time she had seen her, Hermione's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. There were no signs of crying though. And when Ginny dropped the confections onto her table beside her, she seemed to react to the sound. Taking this as a good sign, Ginny reached to smooth back a curl that had made its way loose from the rest of the older girl's hair.

Hermione flinched from her hand and turned her head so that it was facing the wall. Ginny looked over at Madam Pomfrey, who only thinned her lips.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I think…I think I'll just sit here with her for a while, if that's all right?"

"Of course. You'll let me know if anything changes?"

"Yes, ma'am." The nurse closed the curtains behind her. Ginny drew up a chair and sat down.

"Hermione, it's me. Ginny. Harry and Ron…they…they thought I should come first. They brought you a whole bunch of Chocolate Frogs though." When that brought no response, she leaned closer and continued speaking.

"We're all worried about you, Hermione. Dumbledore and McGonagall told everyone that you have dragon pox, but Harry and Ron and I, we know what happened. Ron heard Malfoy talking about it, and then Professor Snape…well, Ron told the two of us.

"We're going to get him back, Hermione. I promise you. So, don't worry about him, all right?" There was no change. Ginny wished more than anything that her mother could be here with her. She would know all the right things to say. But she was here, by herself, and growing more and more concerned by the minute.

"Please, Hermione. We need you to come back to us. We all miss you so much, and Harry…. I think he's taking it harder than any of us. He thinks it's his fault that…." She fell silent, because she wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. So she tried another one.

"You're the closest thing I have to a big sister, Hermione. I always imagined you and Ron would get married, and that we would really become sisters. But seeing you like this…. Hermione, you have to tell us how to help you." She had said the last line desperately, not really expecting a response. So she was surprised when she heard her say something from the other side of the bed.

"What...what did you say?" Hermione turned to look at Ginny.

Hermione's voice was rough from misuse, but words were clear. Still in shock, but elated, Ginny ran to get the nurse.

"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! She spoke! She spoke to me! She asked for...." And then it hit her. "She asked for Professor Snape!" she whispered in wonderment.

***

Severus glowered irritably at the face in the fire.

"What is it Albus? Can't you see I'm in the middle of brewing something?"

"Actually, Severus, it's a little hard to see anything from this angle, but I'll take your word for it." Snape changed his look to the one he had given Longbottom after he had managed to melt his cauldron for the fourteenth time during the fourth year, and as usual, it did nothing to faze the headmaster.

"I've just been informed by Madam Pomfrey that Miss Granger has asked to see you." Snape almost dropped the vial he had been holding.

"I see."

"I think it would be of great help, Severus, if you would go to her. As you probably already know, she hasn't spoken to anyone since the first night, and Poppy is worried. I grant you, her choice of visitors is a little puzzling, but perhaps you'll be able to discern what she wants." Severus was a little annoyed with the lack of seriousness he detected in Dumbledore's voice but refrained from showing it.

"Of course, headmaster. I'm on my way." He set down the vial and quickly cleared away the experimental potion he had been working on. Between teaching classes, his responsibilities as the Head of Slytherin, and spying on Lord Voldemort, he had very little free time, and it had taken him six weeks to set this one up. But curiosity, and perhaps something else, spurred him to make his way to the hospital wing in haste.

As he approached the doors, he slowed down to collect himself. You don't know what she wants, he told himself. If anything, she probably remembers what you said to Malfoy and wants to slap you again. He remembered the feeling of her hand on his face though, both times, and decided it was worth the risk.

His knock was answered by Madam Pomfrey, who looked at him levelly, almost accusingly.

"Dumbledore has told you."

"Yes. May I?"

She frowned, but opened the door a little wider to let him in.

"I don't know why she's asked for you, of all people, but I'm willing to respect her wishes, for now. Don't," she said harshly, "even think about disturbing her. I know you can be civil when you want to, and I expect only the best of bedside manners from you." She spoke to him as if he was still the same sixteen-year-old that she had healed after the incident beneath the Whomping Willow. And it would have worked on any other person, but even at sixteen, he had been able to ignore the brusqueness of the otherwise competent nurse.

"How long ago did she…?"

"It was only a few minutes ago. Miss Weasley was with her at the time." He nodded. Ginny Weasley was one of the few Gryffindors he actually approved of, not that he would admit it to anyone. For someone to have survived the possession of the Dark Lord, and to have done it in her first year, took a certain amount of strength that even he had to appreciate.

Madam Pomfrey walked with him to the back of the wing. Hers was the only bed with the curtains drawn around it. He was about to pull them aside, but he stopped to look at Madam Pomfrey. She held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away. "I'll leave the two of you alone, then. Do not, I repeat, do not agitate her. You've seen how fitfully she sleeps. No doubt her nerves are frayed enough as it is." He continued to stare at her until she finally turned and left with a hmphf.

"Bloody Slytherin. Thinks he can outstare me…." he heard her mumble as she walked out of earshot.

He pulled the curtains apart. The only differences he could see were that there were now an insane amount of Chocolate Frogs on her nightstand and that her eyes were now open. He had spent the better part of the last two nights watching her as she slept. Both times he had been sure to leave before it was close to time for her to wake up. Poppy had been right before. She had not slept well, constantly shifting and turning in her sheets. There had been times when she had cried out, and he had held her hand and wiped her brow as he whispered words of safety and comfort to her. Last night, she had held onto his hand and not let go when she eventually fell back asleep. He had allowed her to hold it until it had been time for him to go. He had been certain that she had not recognized him. Now, he was not so sure.

Her eyes beheld him in almost the same way they had the night he had returned from the Death Eater's meeting. There was the trust, as always, but now, instead of the comfort he had found before, there was a look of wild desperation, as if he were the last copy of Magical Me left at Flourish and Blotts.

"You came," she whispered, and by her tone, he could tell that she hadn't been sure that he would.

"Yes." At the sound of his voice, she closed her eyes and kept them closed for a breath before opening them. He was still there.

"What is it you wan-…why did you ask for me?" He had wanted to maintain his distance, but found himself too impatient for formalities. He was starting to feel anxious, something he was not used to. Even when his Dark Mark activated and he went to Voldemort…at least then he knew more of what to expect than he did now.

Hermione was looking at him now with dread. He shouldn't have snapped at her. Any second now, she would start crying again…. Except she didn't.

Eventually he sat down, telling her without words that he was going to stay and listen. It gave her the courage to proceed.

"In the books you recommended for me…."

Oh God, had he just abandoned his experiment to answer a question about a book? His frustration must have shown because she had stopped talking. He sighed. What was done was done.

"Yes?" There, that had been gentle enough, spoken without the usual snide undertones.

"I wanted to ask you…that is, I mean…. They talked about using a Pensieve, to prepare oneself, before a lesson. I wanted to know.if we…if we were going to use one."

Severus sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Damn. He had almost forgotten about those lessons. At least, he had hoped that she had forgotten them. What kind of rape victim—even if it was only attempted—would possibly think about voluntarily having her mind violated again and again in much the same way, even if it was for the purposes of education? He was starting to reconsider her sanity when the rest of her question hit him. She had asked about using a Pensieve. Of course. Now it made perfect sense.

"How much do you know about Pensieves, Miss Granger?"

Before she began to answer, she realized that this was probably the first time he had directly asked her an academically related question. And her hand wasn't even in the air.

"Well, from what Harry told me and what I could find in the library, a Pensieve is a receptacle for one's memories. You choose which ones to put in there, and it allows you to analyze them more objectively. Once you put a memory in there, you don't forget about it, per say, but it lets you detach yourself from the memory. It becomes something you see, and remember, in the third person. Like a movie."

"A what?"

"Oh, sorry. A movie; it's a Muggle term."

"I see. And Muggles have something akin to a Pensieve?"

"No, they don't."

"Then how do they deal with the memories they'd rather not relive?"

"Well, they…oh. Oh." The realization in her eyes told Snape that he had been right in his assumption.

"You're not the first to have thought of using a Pensieve in this way, you know."

"I never said…."

"That wasn't an accusation."

"Oh."

"I was merely trying to point out to you why we in the magical community do not resort to the use of Pensieves whenever something happens that we'd rather forget.

"The reality of it is, when one inputs their memories, they must be careful not to choose ones that carry too much emotional weight. The more traumatic the experience, the more unstable the physical manifestation of the memory. You'll remember Barnabas the Barmy from History of Magic?"

"Yes, sir."

"He witnessed his wife's murder at the hands of Grindelwald. When he tried to use a Pensieve to rid himself of the memory, it backlashed and, well, I'm sure you've seen the tapestry."

"I…I didn't know."

"Well now you do." As he watched her process this new information, he thought back to the memories he had put into Dumbledore's Pensieve. The one involving the day he took his Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.'s had been as painful as he dared to draw out. God only knows how he wished he could have taken out the memory of the Whomping Willow, or his initiation into the Death Eaters.

"So...then...." She was slipping back into the darkness, and he could feel it. Instead of allowing her to return to the clutches of depression, he reached for her with the only thing he could think of that would persuade her to grab hold. He appealed to her sense of scholasticism.

"Miss Granger, do you know, that in the three days you wasted by lying here, that you have missed close to fifteen hours of class time? Not to forget the requisite hours needed to complete the assigned homework and revisions?"

"But…."

"How do you expect to finish your N.E.W.T.'s, much less graduate if you keep this up much longer? I am sorely tempted to withdraw you from the accelerated Potions course I enrolled you in."

"No! Please don't!" She sat up, the first time she had done so in days. The head rush made her quite dizzy and her vision blurred. When it cleared again, she saw that Madam Pomfrey had entered and was looking rather annoyed at Snape.

"I told you not to disturb her! I should have known...." Snape looked ready to vituperate in response, but Hermione rushed to defuse the situation.

"It's all right, Madam Pomfrey. I shouldn't have shouted. I'm sorry." The nurse looked at Hermione critically. There was color in her cheeks again, and a spark had returned to her eyes. The girl was definitely improved since the last time she had seen her. Poppy looked again to the Potions Master. Apparently he had done some good, after all.

"Nevertheless, the hour is late, and I'm afraid I must ask you to leave, Professor."

"Very well." He stood up. "Miss Granger, I would advise you to consider what I have just told you. If I do not see you at breakfast tomorrow morning, I will assume you have decided to drop Potions."

"Severus! You cannot possibly expect her to.."

"On the contrary. I believe Miss Granger has seen the insides of this," his eyes swept across the barrenness of her surroundings, "room long enough. Good night, Poppy. Good night, Miss Granger." Without another word he left the two women staring after him with two very different expressions on their faces: Madame Pomfrey's jaw had dropped in shock, while Hermione's eyes were shining with renewed determination.

Later on, after Madam Pomfrey had tucked her back in and told her to get her rest, Hermione's hand snuck out from under her blankets and reached for the first of many Chocolate Frogs.