Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

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Part Four: When Complication Reigns

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The morning following Snape's meeting with Voldemort, Hermione awoke with a strange feeling of trepidation about her meeting with Dumbledore and Snape. She was unsure as to how her presence would help matters, but eternally grateful that, for once, she was being informed of matters that influenced her life instead of having the decisions made for her. She would not deny that Dumbledore's manipulation still angered her, but it seemed that Snape had as much liking for being left in the dark as she did, and for once, she was benefiting from that.

She sighed and rolled out of bed, making her way into the bathroom for her morning shower. As much as she wanted to sink into the tub for an hour, she knew that would not be a good idea; she had a lot of work to do. Whilst her classroom was now clean and tidy, she had been toying with the idea of rearranging it, and on her way back to her rooms the previous night, had decided to do so.

Despite the fact that she did not wish to think about him, or anything relating to him, her thoughts returned to the Potions Master. Having had the time to think about the previous evening in a rational manner, she had deduced that her Hermanté powers were beginning to have a serious effect on the way she viewed the world around her. The disorienting feeling she was experiencing regarding Snape was still unsettling and she was unable to figure out exactly what was causing it, but, if nothing else, the way she had sensed and, indeed, seen the pain and magic surrounding him the previous evening had convinced her that a visit to Madam Pomfrey could be in her best interests.

She dressed quickly and made her way to breakfast, knowing that the entire staff would have returned to Hogwarts and were likely to be at breakfast. She took a deep breath before entering the Great Hall, still feeling a little out of place amongst the professors since previous discussions about her appointment had become known. She had meant everything she had said to Filius the day before and only hoped that she would be able to do everything she hoped.

As her luck would have it, Madam Pomfrey was making her way towards the doors as Hermione entered.

"Good morning, Hermione, how are you feeling today?"

"Actually, I was hoping to stop by the Hospital Wing this morning for a chat if you have the time."

Poppy smiled and nodded. "Of course. I assume this has something to do with a certain affliction you may soon become addled with?"

Hermione nodded, not really wanting to go into it at that precise moment in time. She knew that Madam Pomfrey must have been informed, although Dumbledore had only told Hermione of that when she had prompted him to. It amazed her how Poppy always seemed to know what was going on with everyone, and yet Dumbledore did not include her in the list he had originally given her of those 'in the loop'.

"Well, come along when you're done with breakfast, dear, and I'll have some hot cocoa ready."

Hermione smiled and began to make her way to the table. If there was one thing she loved about Poppy it was her ability to treat the staff like her children, no matter their age. She even recalled the way Minerva had been treated to tutting and fussing the morning she had been flattened by a steamroller. Hermione was still trying to get her to confess just how, exactly, that had happened. All she knew was that instead of turning up for Hermione's lesson that morning, Hermione had found Minerva in the hospital wing, flat as a pancake mumbling something about Snape, a bottle of Firewhisky and a rather adventurous Portkey.

"Good morning," Hermione said with a bright smile, taking a seat next to Minerva and opposite Hooch. She was greeted with a nod of acknowledgement by most of the staff.

"Morning, Hermione," Minerva said with a smile through her toast.

Hermione shook her head, rather amused by the Transfigurations Professor's resemblance to Ron at that particular moment, and piled her plate with toast and scrambled eggs.

"How are your preparations coming along?" Minerva asked, finally free of her toast. "Are you ready for the term to begin?"

Hermione felt all eyes on her, some surreptitiously, some blatantly, but she simply smiled at Minerva and nodded. "I think so. I've still got a few kinks to iron out in my curriculum for the latter part of the year; I'm hoping to do a research project for the NEWTS, but I'm still waiting to finalise it." She glanced at Snape and he nodded slightly. "Other than that, all I really want to do is rearrange my classroom a bit. It's just a little too stuffy, even for me."

Minerva nodded. "You've done a marvellous job so far. Perhaps you could ask that intriguing young gentleman you met in the Highlands to help you with the rest; he offered to rearrange a few things for you, didn't he?" She smirked.

"Yes, I believe one of them was my face," Hermione said accusingly. The rest of the staff was all looking at her more curiously now, but Snape had a distinct smirk lurking around the corners of his mouth and Hermione knew instantly that Minerva must have told him of all her rather embarrassing excursions during her Apparition training. She really was beginning to wonder just how well the two House Heads really got on.

"Well, I suppose you surprised him a little, landing in his lap like that."

"And I wonder how that could possibly have happened."

"Yes, I wonder."

Hermione shook her head at Minerva and quickly finished up the last of her breakfast. "Well, I have a few things to take care of." She said her goodbyes and quickly headed towards the Hospital Wing.

There was something almost calming about the empty halls of Hogwarts during the holidays. It was something that Hermione had never been particularly aware of, at least not in the sense that she was now feeling. It was almost as if the castle was waiting for something to happen, a gentle sort of anticipation that could never be seen nor heard, and yet, to Hermione, was just as tangible as if it were written on a piece of paper she was holding.

She wandered the hallways slowly, trying not to think about the fact that her time as a teacher was about to begin. It was both exciting and terrifying; she had no idea what she was doing. For as much as she wanted to convince herself that it was no more difficult that teaching Neville Potions (in fact, part of her was sure it would be ten times easier), she knew that it was not the same thing. She had no idea how she was going to get respect from her students; especially the Slytherins, more especially the Seventh Years, and, without a doubt, Draco Malfoy.

She rounded the corner by the Hospital Wing and entered the large room she was accustomed to seeing Harry in, and walked through to the opposite end, knocking gently on Poppy's office door. She had talked with the Mediwitch when the woman had returned to the castle and had been bombarded with baby photos of the woman's latest grandchild. She had never really thought much of her teachers' private lives, but was pleased that Poppy (who had instantly insisted Hermione call her by her given name) was one of the few willing to share with her in that regard. If she had ever wondered where the older woman got her mothering instinct, the recently discovered knowledge that she had twelve grown up children and fourteen grandchildren would have answered that.

"Come in, Hermione."

She slowly entered the cosy room, shutting the door behind her, and smiled. "How did you know it was me?"

"Because few of the staff would visit me here, of all places. You'll find that they dislike the Hospital Wing and, as Severus would add, have a few rather ingenious ideas of where I should stick my wand."

Hermione chuckled and felt her cheeks redden a little. She had always thought of Madam Pomfrey as another Molly Weasley, but the woman had a mischievous twinkle in those eyes of hers and a sharp instinct about things that were going on around her. She always knew what was going on around the castle.

"Speaking of, I hear you had to patch up a rather stubborn and grumpy Potions Master last night."

"I tried to talk him into coming here," Hermione said, raising her arms a little in defence.

"Hah! I'll bet that was met with a few expletives."

Hermione smiled. "Just a few."

"Take a seat, dear." Poppy motioned to the two large armchairs by the fire and busied herself with the cocoa.

Hermione sat in the left-hand chair after a glance told her the right-hand one was the most used and likely Poppy's favourite chair. She had a favourite chair in the Gryffindor Common Room and she hated to find it occupied; it was her favourite reading chair. Therefore, she always gave respect to other people's preferences and made herself comfortable elsewhere.

She glanced around the fairly small room; small, that was, in comparison with the other offices she had been in, including her own, which was off the Arithmancy classroom. The windows were surrounded by a gentle hint of gold and green, with a pattern of poppies burnt into the wood. The desk was placed against the back wall, facing the fireplace. It was rather large and had several levels of shelves and drawers that reminded Hermione of what might be a busy row of shelves in Ollivander's for all that it was seemingly messy, but no doubt meticulously organised.

The floor, unlike most other offices, was carpeted. It was soft and fluffy, and Hermione wanted to remove her shoes and run her toes through almost grass-like material springing up from it. Leaning back in her chair, she studied the mantel. It was covered, as was the wall above it, with photographs of countless children and family units. The main photograph, in the centre of the wall, was incredibly large and full of people. Children were running out of the frame and reappearing moments later in the arms of a parent (usually upside down and covered in mud or chocolate). It was chaotic and reminded Hermione slightly of the Weasley household. It was definitely too much for her to ever want, but it gave her a nice sense of comfort to see the way the huge family interacted.

Settling further into her chair, Hermione decided that she liked Poppy's office. It was warm, welcoming, and cosy. It also had no indication of any house. Most of the Professors, whether they were House Heads or not, had at least one small nod towards the House they were in when they had gone through Hogwarts. It tended to be hard to find, but Hermione had an eye for subtlety in that regard, and she saw nothing that indicated which House Poppy had been in. She had, of course, always assumed the woman had been a Hufflepuff, given her mothering nature, but she was no longer so sure.

"It's not as messy as it seems, I promise." Poppy smiled and handed Hermione a steaming mug before settling into the chair facing her. "Everything is in its rightful place, although I know most things by heart. Photographic memory," she said, tapping her right temple.

"That must be handy."

"It is, but I find that I probably had to work harder than most. It's all good and well being able to remember things, but if you have no idea what they mean, what good are they?"

"I never really thought about it like that before," Hermione said. "When I was younger, I always wished I had a photographic memory. It seemed like it would make it so much easier to learn much more in a shorter space of time."

"Remember? Yes. Learn? Not really. I spent my sixth and seventh year studying medicine to get a head start and I was barely above the second year students when I went to St. Mungo's to study."

"I'll bet that was frustrating."

"Just a little." Poppy smiled and took a long sip of her cocoa. Hermione watched her.

If there was one thing that had always annoyed her mother, it was Hermione's tendency to watch people eating and drinking. She had always done it, ever since she was a child. There was just something engaging about how people reacted to food and drink; the way her father's nose always scrunched up when he tasted something he did not care for, the way her mother smiled with her eyes when she tasted Hermione's pancakes, the way her aunt's mouth puckered at the taste of something sour, and, Hermione noted, the way Poppy's eyes closed and her shoulders pulled in as she smelled the aroma of the hot chocolate just after taking a sip.

When she realised Poppy was looking at her, Hermione took a gulp from her own cup, letting out a breath when it burned her tongue, and frowned. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I was just wondering, what house were you in when you attended Hogwarts?" She looked around again. "It's just that I can't see anything to indicate a house."

Poppy smiled. "You're not quite looking for the right thing," she said mysteriously, and left it at that. "So, my dear, how are you feeling? I assume something has happened."

"Nothing too serious."

"I should hope not, or I would think I would have heard about it by now."

"Of course." Hermione sighed. "Things are starting to feel a little different," she said. "Mainly, it's nothing concrete; just a sense of things altering. In my perceptions at least. I've had a few brief spells of disorientation and last night I could see the Dark Magic around Professor Snape."

"You could see it?" Poppy asked, a little surprised.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, there was just something...there. I could tell from the castle that it was the Cruciatus Curse, and I just knew I had to get to him. Although, it doesn't help that I start to feel dizzy a lot when looking at the Professor."

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes. It's almost like I'm seeing double, but both images are on top of each other and they don't seem to match. Does that make any sense?"

A slow smile spread over Poppy's face. "More than you know. I can't explain just now, I'd need to have a chat with Albus and Severus, but that, at least, is something I think I may be able to fix. Right now, however, I'd like to concentrate on these spells of yours and, no, I don't mean the kind you do with your wand." She placed her cup on the small table to the left of her chair and leaned towards Hermione. "How many have you had?"

"Well, two, but the second time Professor Snape arrived and that turned into a different kind of dizziness."

"Would you mind?" Poppy asked, pulling out her wand, and Hermione shook her head. She knew that Poppy would have carried out the tests whether she minded or not, but it was nice to be asked.

The Mediwitch stood and crossed the short distance between them and began running her wand around Hermione. The swishing movement soon caused Hermione to blink a few times and eventually, she could see a trail of colour following the tip, almost like the tail end of a shooting star.

"Hermione?"

Poppy's voice caused her to jerk in surprise. She blinked and the world returned to normal. "Sorry, Poppy, I just..."

"It's all right, I know. Your power channels are opening. Slowly, but they are opening. You'll soon find that you can see things more clearly and, most definitely, differently. You will start to sense magic and it's probable that your proximity to Severus may start to prove a serious issue," she finished contemplatively.

Hermione did not ask why, though she wanted to. "What should I do? The students will be arriving tomorrow morning."

"I don't think it will be cause for alarm. The children should cause you little bother magically. Perhaps the Seventh Years and some of the Sixth Years will affect you slightly, but it's the magnitude of power a Witch or Wizard has that will upset your senses. Mr Potter may prove difficult, but I don't believe he is in any of your classes."

Hermione frowned. "No, he's not, but he is my best friend and I would like to spend some time with him."

Poppy smiled. "It shouldn't be a problem, so long as you inform him that I am to be notified at the slightest indication of a problem."

"I will."

Poppy nodded. "Good. I would, however, steer clear of Severus until I can speak to him."

"I have to meet with Professors Snape and Dumbledore at one o'clock."

"Ah," Poppy let out a breath. "Well, he was due a scolding from me for last night anyway, I suppose I can visit him just now. There's nothing like scared Slytherin in the morning."

Hermione chuckled. "I don't think I've ever heard of Snape being called scared before; however, if anyone were capable, Poppy, I'd say it was you."

"Why, thank you, Hermione."

They placed their mugs on Poppy's desk and headed to the door; Hermione turned, indicating the etching on the window ledge. "I never would have picked you for an Olympus graduate. Which House were you? I hear they have three."

Poppy smiled. "The Greek system is a little different. We only used our Houses for sports events and there was no such thing as mixed living for the males and females. I've been trying to talk Albus into changing that for years."

Hermione chuckled as they made their way through the halls. She could understand Poppy's point of view, but she had to admit that things just would not be the same if they separated the houses. Her life at Hogwarts, whilst less dangerous, would have been entirely different without Harry and Ron, and she couldn't imagine her life without them.

She parted ways with Poppy as they neared the dungeons, and headed to her classroom. As she entered, she started a cheery fire in the grate with a flick of her wrist before moving into the centre of the room and trying to figure out how she wanted to rearrange things. She looked up at the small podium that her desk and blackboard sat on and frowned. She wasn't sure she wanted to lord above her students; there had been times whilst she was being taught that it had been rather daunting to see a professor (one rather sarcastic one in particular) glaring down at her. She decided that would be the first thing to go.

A few hours later, Hermione pulled herself up onto her desk and glanced around the room. It was almost unrecognisable as the room she had been taught in over the last three years; it was now her room. The desks were set in a semicircle with her own at what would be the centre of the circle. The space where the raised area had been and around five feet in front of it, where the door was to the left, was left empty. The only thing in the area was the stairway to her office against the back wall.

She had decided early on that she would want to do practical demonstrations with her class. Whilst she enjoyed the theory of Arithmancy, as did a select few of her students, most of them would learn better through practical application. There was only so much practical Arithmancy that could be done in a school, but Hermione had been working on devising a few safe alternatives to teach her classes. She had had to devise them from scratch as no one had ever tried and succeeded before, but she was almost there.

"Perhaps you are unaware of the time, Professor Granger."

Hermione jumped and turned to Professor Snape with a frown. "Do you have to do that? I'm tempted to get you a bell so that I can hear when you're coming."

Hermione was startled when Snape almost growled. "What did Minerva tell you?"

"Nothing." Hermione tried to stop her face from twisting into a grin, but she was unsuccessful. "Minerva got you a bell?"

"No."

"Of course, Professor." She jumped down from the table and picked up her jumper. She had forgone her robes and settled, instead, for her Muggle clothes. She could see that Snape was not comfortable with it and she rolled her eyes as they made their way to Dumbledore's office. She turned to look at him, planning on asking his assistance on finalising her demonstrations when the world blurred and she stumbled.

She felt his arms wrap tightly around her as she was lowered gently to the floor. She sat back and kept her eyes closed, hoping that would stop the walls from floating in that disconcerting manner that they had chosen just before she closed them.

"Professor Granger."

She heard his voice and yet it seemed like too much effort to answer him, so she blocked him out, instead, focusing her efforts to continue breathing." The spinning sensation in her head slowed to a stop and she became aware of a gruff voice ordering her to open her eyes.

"I can hear you, Severus," she ground out, having noticed he had repeatedly called her Miss Granger. She realised that it was difficult for her Professors, but she was being selfish. She couldn't do this if they kept talking to her like a child.

"Then answer me, Professor."

Hermione sighed and slowly opened her eyes. "Unless you intend to give me an explanation as to why you seem to make my world turn upside down, and stop looking at me like that - I hardly meant in the romantic way, you dolt - then I suggest you give me time to stop the walls becoming the ceiling. I take it no explanation will be forthcoming?" Snape didn't reply, but she had the feeling he was still trying to work out whether or not his ears were playing tricks on him or she had actually called him a 'dolt'. "No? I didn't think so. Now help me up."

At that, Snape did start. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, almost wanting him to make an issue out of it just so that she could release some of the power that was beginning to build up around her. There was something that Snape was doing that was making her ill and if she was expected to respect his privacy, even when it was proving detrimental to her health, then he could bloody well help her to her feet since he was the reason she had ended up on the floor in the first place.

He growled a little under his breath, but took a hold of her arms and helped her to her feet. "Watch how quick you are to demand, Miss Granger, especially in the presence of a Death Eater."

"You don't scare me, Severus." Hermione noticed he was shocked to see that she meant it, just as she was rather shocked he had actually said he was a Death Eater. "And until you stop treating me like a child, then I retain the right to act like one."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I make no apologies, Professor. You were, only a few months ago, one of my students. By all rights you still should be."

Hermione sighed and leaned on him slightly more, hoping that it would not prompt him to remove the support he was still giving her; she wasn't quite ready to walk steadily on her own yet. "Professor, I lost my childhood the day my parents were killed, some would even argue that I lost it long before that. My aunt Linda for one."

"I held a position of authority over you. That is not something that will disappear suddenly just because you wish it."

"You're right," she said, turning her head to look at him despite the headache she was giving herself. "But I'm not about to disappear suddenly just because you wish it."

"If it worked like that, Professor, this school would have been empty years ago."

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The days had seemed to fly by, and Hermione wasn't sure where the time had gone. Between reading her student files, sorting out her classes, and fixing the classroom up the way she wanted it, she soon found that it was Saturday night. The students were to arrive on the Hogwarts Express the following day and Hermione was a nervous wreck. Her only saving grace had been Harry.

Whilst her meeting with Snape and Dumbledore had caused her to get little sleep the previous night, she had done her best not to think about it at all. That she should befriend Snape to help his role as a spy went without saying; it was more the reality of the situation that she chose to push to the back of her mind. It was the last thing she needed on top of her growing powers and her worry about the beginning of the school year. Harry had been more than willing to be her ear.

Since leaving Grimmauld Place, she had felt more confident in herself and her capabilities, as if she had cried everything out and all that was left was the determination to succeed. She had been sending letters to Harry on a daily basis, finally glad to be able to vent all her frustrations without having to lie.

Harry had, thankfully, made up with Ron the same night she had informed them of her new position, but she had no doubt that Ron would be less likely to forgive her so quickly. She had really hurt him, and even Harry was finding it difficult to keep up his friendship with Ron, knowing that he was privy to information that he simply was not allowed to tell anyone.

She sighed and curled closer to the fire. She was still wrapped in her fluffy dressing gown, her damp hair curling wildly around her face, as she prepared to finally open the book Professor Snape had given her. She scanned it to find that it contained the recovered parts of Hermanté's journal and the complete journals of the three Hermanté that came after her. There was a preface put together by the author, but as it was written in Modern Greek, Hermione decided to skip it; she could ask Poppy to translate it later.

She had learned Ancient Greek in order to help her with her studies and, therefore, found it difficult to adapt to the modern language. Luckily, the excerpts from Hermanté's journal were still in their original form, and Hermione had no trouble reading them. She spent a few hours losing herself in the Hermanté of the past, and she was so engrossed she didn't feel the faint stirring of magic within her until she reached the final paragraph of the book. She glanced over the prophecy again, her blood seeming to buzz through her veins.

'In the future, in times to come, when the dreaded skull grips the hearts of the many, a power shall arise like no other. Two opposites of morality linked together by fate will fight to the end, where only one shall survive. Within this great battle I place my power. I will hand it down to the next rightful child, and when she is of age she will help whom she chooses, but be wary of the power I charge. Anger will cloud and Passion will interfere, and if her choice is not true, Death will become all.'"

She took a deep breath and looked into the fire as the low flames danced in the grate, sending shadows flickering across the room. She felt hyper-charged, as if everything around her had a permeable magical form and she could feel it, could bend it to her will.

A vague part of her recalled Bertha Jorkins' final prediction, telling that she would be at the heart of the battle for years before her time, bound by a friendship of three, and she almost snorted. The part of her that wasn't revelling in the power that surrounded her found that it couldn't comprehend how she was still alive. It was clear that she was the only one that could fit that description, and she had yet to become any kind of target. Her parents' death had been deliberate, they were meant to die, but no one had come after her specifically. Yet.

And then it made sense. The woman would be struck by a great tragedy before her coming of age. Her coming of age, as she had discovered in the book, was of no set time. Hermanté coming of age was not physical, it was emotional and mental. Voldemort could not have predicted when that would be. To strike too soon would ensure that the power of Hermanté would be lost, and then she would be of no use to him.

She would be marked by nail and stone and touched by the desires for both sides.

Both sides. Something was meant to attract her to both sides. She felt sick, or a part of her did. That same part of her also realised that she was no longer sitting. She was walking around the room, searching for the one thing that seemed to be calling to her.

Her parents had been killed so that she could come of age, she realised absently, continuing her search of her rooms. That was why Dumbledore had told her not to let anyone know. She had had to mourn in silence and pretend that her parents were still alive. The only people that had been allowed to know were members of the Order.

And they wondered why I didn't grieve properly.

Hermione recalled her meeting with Dumbledore on her first night back at Hogwarts; her first night as a teacher. Dumbledore had told her everything then, everything about her parents' death, and how they had covered it up. From Snape's place in Voldemort's inner circle, he had been able to determine that Voldemort believed the lack of confirmation of her parents' deaths to be a failure in the act actually taking place, and the Death Eaters that had committed the act were killed instantly. Therefore, Hermione's tragedy had, to Voldemort's knowledge, not taken place, and she would not yet come of age until she was struck by misfortune. There was no point in attacking her.

As the pull of magic grew stronger, Hermione stopped thinking altogether, and instead she followed her instincts. A few moments later, she found herself on her hands and knees beside her desk, watching Crookshanks sleep. His form seemed to be surrounded by an almost physical blanket of colour. There was a blue light all over him, and Hermione couldn't help herself, she reached out and touched it, absently noting that her own skin seemed to be surrounded in silver light.

The moment her hands entered the blue light, Crookshanks shot awake, and the light turned dark red as the animal screeched, baring his teeth and nails. Hermione jumped and fell backwards, watching in shock as her cat ran full pelt into the bathroom.

Her vision had returned to normal and her head was aching. She pulled herself into a sitting position and struggled to stand, noting that her entire body seemed reluctant to co-operate. There was a sudden, sharp knock at her door and she slowly made her way there, muttering the password for the entrance to appear.

She stood in shock for a moment before clearing her throat. "Sorry, Professor, please come in."

"That's quite all right, Miss Granger, I'm-"

"Professor Granger."

Snape pursed his lips. "Of course." He sneered. "How could I forget? Well, Professor Granger, I simply came to deliver your updated timetable."

Hermione almost growled at him. Whatever understanding they had reached the day before was gone. She was supposed to befriend him, although they had agreed that it must appear gradual to the outside world (although Harry was to be brought into the loop), and yet he continued to act the same as always: with sarcasm and a glare.

He thrust the paper toward her and she took it, noting that he seemed to be having difficulty looking at her. She frowned until a small breeze alerted her to the fact that her robe was open slightly more than she would have liked. She felt the blush rising in her cheeks as she tightened it and glanced back up at him, refusing to let him see her embarrassment was affecting her.

"Thank you for delivering it, Professor Snape."

"Don't thank me," he said, his voice sounding more surly than usual. "Albus seemed to think that it was important you get it right now and that the house-elves were somehow less than capable of delivering it."

"Well, thank you anyway." Hermione felt her eyes blurring when she looked at him, and surmised that whatever magic had taken hold of her earlier had clearly not dissipated fully yet. There was a tingling running through her as if to clarify that, and she felt herself sway a little. She was beginning to get angry at Snape; this was all his fault.

"Are you ill, Professor?"

Hermione took a deep breath and forced her vision to clear. "Just a little dizzy, Professor. I'll be fine."

Snape nodded, but continued to watch her for more signs of another episode and Hermione suddenly felt ill again, his face seeming to blur once more before her eyes. She glanced down, hoping to clear her head, but his entire body seemed fuzzy and indistinct. She felt herself lurching forward, and was sure that she was about to be introduced to the floor, but was caught before she got very far. Snape turned her around in his arms, so that she was facing the ceiling, in order to look at her, and he seemed to be talking to her, but everything was muffled and all Hermione could focus on was the blinding blue light that was surrounding his hazy form.

She became aware of him picking her up and moving her. She could smell the fire as they approached. Part of her realised that he was planning on Flooing her from her room, but for the most part, she simply tried to focus. The magic that had come alive only minutes before was refusing to stay dormant, and her eyes couldn't seem to cope with looking at Professor Snape. She tried to close them, but they appeared to have a will of their own, as if her insatiable curiosity wouldn't allow her to shut herself off from the new world she was discovering.

After what seemed like an eternity, the magic began to recede and she began to see things clearly - things, of course, being the ceiling of the Hospital Wing where Professor Snape had obviously taken her. He seemed to have a habit of arriving just as she required medical attention. She knew that he believed she had forgotten; that she had repressed the memory of that night that seemed so long ago and she was more than willing to allow him to believe that, but the truth was, she couldn't forget. A part of her didn't want to forget.

She needed to remember the pain, because at first she hadn't been able to feel anything. Her parents were dead and all she had felt was numb. It wasn't until she was physically scratching the skin from her fingers that anything seemed real. It had hurt. The physical pain had hurt and she had let that channel her emotions, finally allowing herself to grieve. It wasn't something she had thought about consciously, but it had helped more than any of the looks of pity the people that knew had been sending her way.

A gentle murmur of voices slowly penetrated the thick haze that had muffled her hearing and she made out Minerva's, Snape's, and Dumbledore's voices. She turned her head, her eyes aching as they fell on the blurry form of the Potions Master. She tried to force her eyes to focus, but nothing seemed to work, and it was not until she glanced at Dumbledore that she realised her vision was fine. It was only Professor Snape that was blurry and she was beginning to wonder if she would ever find out why.

"...must be a reason why it chose now to materialise, Albus."

"I agree," Snape said, glancing in her direction. Or at least she assumed he was glancing in her direction, she couldn't quite tell. The colours, which she assumed were auras, were not present, but the pain of trying to look at Snape was too much. She chose instead to focus on Dumbledore as he walked toward her.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," she murmured, noting Dumbledore's momentary confusion at her Muggle term.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Minerva asked, her concern evident in both her features and her voice.

"I-I don't know. I was reading the book Professor Snape gave me on Hermanté, and I could feel magic running through me. I could see it. I think I could see auras as well, I didn't know what it was at first, so I tried to touch Crookshanks."

"I would imagine the beast didn't appreciate that," Snape said with a smirk.

"Not exactly," Hermione responded, pulling herself into a sitting position and refusing to look at the Professor. "Professor Dumbledore, I think there's something wrong."

"Yes, I had wondered if Severus' potions would affect your vision at all. Poppy assumed that was the case."

Hermione looked at him, instantly spotting the twinkle in his eyes, before glancing at Minerva. The Transfiguration Professor seemed shocked, and Hermione looked back at Dumbledore. "What do you mean?"

"Severus' appearance is not what it seems, Hermione, and I believe your power as Hermanté can see through glamours of any kind. Including the rather ingenious potions Severus has created to alter his appearance."

"Why would you want to alter your appearance?" Hermione asked, looking at the Potions Master, not really caring that she likely had no right to the answer.

Snape seemed to agree and, therefore, it was Albus who answered her. "There are certain duties to Voldemort that Severus is spared from due to the fact that he is less than attractive."

It took Hermione a moment to realise that Dumbledore clearly meant sexual duties and couldn't help but gag slightly at the thought. She glanced at Snape, and while he still looked blurry, she could see that he was none too happy that Dumbledore had answered her question.

After a moment, she looked away, her eyes not prepared to handle the uneasiness at seeing two images imposed over the top of each other. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before turning to Dumbledore.

"How can I focus so that it doesn't hurt?"

"I'm afraid I know very little of how to focus Hermanté powers, Hermione. Were there no answers in the book Severus gave you?"

Hermione tried to think about the book, but it seemed like weeks since she had read it. She vaguely remembered Alhena Malfoy describing some techniques, but she seemed unable to recall what they were. In fact, the entire book seemed a blur to her, as if her new powers had stopped her from taking it in.

"I think there might be," she finally replied.

"I believe Mrs. Malfoy describes some things that may be of use," Snape said, voicing her thoughts.

"I take it she is related to Draco Malfoy, then," Hermione said, not really expecting any answer other than 'yes'.

Snape nodded and she blinked a few times to stop herself feeling queasy. "I believe she is his great, great aunt. Or so Lucius boasts."

"I'll bet he'd be thrilled to know that her journal will be helping a Mudblood," she said with a smile and Minerva chuckled. Hermione yawned and leaned back against the pillows, sliding down a little further. "What time is it?"

"Just after eleven," Minerva said, as Snape moved towards her, holding a potion. She realised that Poppy wasn't there and it took her a moment to remember that the woman had been planning on visiting her youngest child, who was currently heavily pregnant and nearing her due date, and would return early in the morning.

His appearance was beginning to make her eyes ache more so she closed them. She heard Snape sigh but continued to focus on her breathing as something was pressed into her hands.

"Here," he said, almost resignedly. "Drink this."

Not willing to open her eyes, Hermione used her fingers to feel for the top of the vial, only to have it snatched from her hands and replaced a moment later without the cap. She murmured her thanks and risked a glance at it, finding herself a little reluctant to swallow the lumpy, dark green liquid.

"Thank you," she said again, hoping to put off taking it a little longer.

"I'd wait until you've tasted it," Minerva said with a smirk. "You might not want to thank him after that."

She smiled at the woman before glancing at Snape and, for a moment, she clearly saw his aura, even if she couldn't clearly see him. She swallowed the potion in one go, forcing herself not to throw it back up. It tasted worse than Polyjuice. Her disgust was clearly visible as she could hear Minerva and Professor Dumbledore chuckling.

She looked up at Snape accusingly. "You made that taste worse on purpose."

"As amusing as your reaction was, Professor, I can assure you that I did nothing of the sort."

"Liar," she mumbled, well aware that she should probably stop speaking so freely. It was the rogue magic, she was sure.

"Well," Minerva said, a smirk apparent in her voice, "perhaps you should get some sleep, Hermione. I'm sure you'll want to be ready to face the students tomorrow."

She nodded, aware that she was suddenly tired. "What was that potion, anyway?"

"It was just something to calm you and help you sleep. But its main function was to dull your new powers," Minerva answered.

"Surely you should have asked that before swallowing it," Snape said, sneering.

"I didn't need to," she replied. "Your aura was still tinged dark blue." She smirked at him and lay down, snuggling under the blankets. She could hear Snape growling as Minerva and Albus laughed, and she realised that she was thinking rather freely as well, given that she had just thought of Dumbledore by his first name.

Well, that's one hurdle over, now if only facing the rest of the school was that easy.

She yawned loudly, aware that Minerva was taking the bed next to her, no doubt in case something happened during the night. She could hear Albus talking to Snape as they exited the room, but she didn't even bother to try and hear what they were saying. She was too tired. She had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring, but she did know that her troubles were only just beginning.

~x~x~x~x~x~

Severus rubbed his temples, not sure why every encounter he had with Hermione Granger proceeded to give him a migraine. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had been struck by how sexy she had looked, answering the door in nothing but a robe, her short, wild hair framing her face, he had then caused the girl to collapse.

What a wonderful boost to the ego, he thought sarcastically. I wonder if Lucius can boast to having caused young women to collapse at his feet through his looks.

It struck him again that she had seen through his disguise, and he couldn't help but worry that if she could see through it, could the Dark Lord? He quickly shook the thought away, pinning her ability to her powers as Hermanté. He had been working for the Dark Lord freely for quite a while before he had turned to Albus Dumbledore for help. The man hadn't seen through it then, and he was unlikely to have done so since.

Dark blue. He sneered. As if it wasn't bad enough that I felt the need to protect her, she had to know it. But, of course, Hermione Granger would have to have read up on colours despite the fact that she wasn't doing Divination or Higher Magic.

He had no doubt that the witch was smart enough to work Higher Magic, but it was university level magic, and therefore the fact that she might have understood the importance of the colours she was seeing hadn't crossed his mind. Then again, it also hadn't crossed his mind that she would be able to see part of his aura. He wasn't even sure he believed in auras. In fact, before that night, he wouldn't have thought she had believed in them.

He felt like storming down to the dungeons, robes billowing, to sneer about her very existence and why he even cared what she thought, but Albus had talked him into accompanying him to his office for a 'chat'. Severus hated Albus' 'chats'. They never really amounted to much and only resulted in irritating him further. Albus had a decidedly annoying perception about him and the last thing he needed was to be accused of being caring for the second time that day. As if it wasn't bad enough that the brats were all arriving tomorrow, Hermione Granger and Albus Dumbledore were hell bent on ruining his last night of freedom.

"Lisping Liquorice!" Albus' voice broke his reverie, and he glanced at the elder man, glaring at the annoying twinkle in the other man's eyes.

How is it that the man takes such delight in rubbing things in my face? Even when I seem to come out on top of conversations, the old coot always seems to be laughing at me.

He stayed behind Albus until they were in the man's office. Severus made his way to one of the armchairs by the fire, taking the one on the left, as he always did, and waiting until Albus had poured him some tea.

"Well, Severus," Albus began, after they had their tea, "what do you make of today's events?"

"I could care less, Albus." The moment the words left his mouth, Severus regretted them. Albus had that damned smirk on his face.

"Your aura seems to think otherwise."

"My aura," he said through gritted teeth, "is no one's business but mine."

"Quite."

Severus couldn't stop the low growl and felt his anger rising when it only seemed to amuse Albus further. He decided on another tactic and looked down at his tea, swirling the horrid liquid around the cup until Albus decided to stop playing games and get to the point. The man never stops his games, he thought resignedly.

"Well," Albus began, clearing his throat, "I think we can safely say that we will all need to keep an eye on Hermione this week. Is there anything you can remember from the book that might help her when she's in your presence?"

"She could refrain from coming anywhere near me."

"Oh, no, Severus, we can't have you lacking each other's company now, can we?" Severus opened his mouth to assure Albus that, indeed, they could, when the older man continued. "There are no potions you can give her that would allow her to see only one image when she looks at you?"

Severus thought for a moment, but could only come up with one thing that could help, and he was not about to suggest that. However, one look at Albus informed him that the older man knew exactly what he was thinking and was simply forcing Severus to be the one to suggest it.

That interfering old bastard, Severus thought, meeting the man's amused eyes, but refusing to voice his thoughts.

"Come now, Severus, there must be something you've learned as a Potions Master that will help the situation."

"You know fine well there is," he hissed, glaring at Albus. "But I refuse to have that child-"

"Woman," Albus interrupted. He smiled before continuing. "As you are well aware of."

Refusing to rise to the bait, Severus continued. "I refuse to have that woman see through these potions."

"Would it really be so bad, Severus?" Albus asked, frowning a little. "Would it really be so bad to have someone here that could see you for what you really are?"

Severus glared again. "When the person is Hermione Granger, yes, it really would be so bad."

"It would mean less pretending. It must be irritating to have to hide yourself from everyone but myself, Minerva, and Remus Lupin."

"You seem intent on trying to make me sound like a nice person underneath."

"Oh, no one could ever accuse you of that, Severus," Albus said, the irritating twinkle back in his eyes.

There was a moment's pause before Severus sighed, although it came out as more of a growl. "Why do you insist on making it sound like I have a choice, when you are ultimately going to make me give her the potion anyway?"

Albus did not answer, instead he sipped his tea.

I really hate that man.

Severus was quick to finish his drink and leave Albus' office. He retreated quickly to his dungeons and stormed into his lab; not the most intelligent thing he could have done, he conceded, given the volatile nature of many of the ingredients in his private stores, but it certainly made him feel a little better.

He removed his robes and rolled the up his shirt sleeves. He kicked of his shoes and socks and spread his feet out on the cold concrete floor, taking a moment to centre himself. He worked quickly, but meticulously, for the next hour; chop two dragon scales, grind three mugwort leaves, tip them into a bubbling cauldron of lavender water, stir twelve times counter clockwise, purée eight yew leaves, add along with five drops of asphodel.

He stepped back and sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. The potion he was preparing for Granger would be ready in the morning, and then his torture would really begin.

He had little hope that Granger would be able to refrain from telling Weasley about his change in appearance and the reason for it. It was already hard enough to teach Potter when the boy had knowledge of it, but he had no false hopes that Weasley would be any better when he found out. In fact, the other boy was likely to be worse.

At least Potter has grown up considerably, but Weasley seems to have missed that part in his evolution. Then again, if his dragon-loving brother is anything to go by, all the male Weasleys, except perhaps Bill, seem to have forgone that stage of growing up.

He shook his head, resigning himself to the fact that, not only had Weasley somehow made it into his seventh year Potions class, but that the boy would make his life a living hell. More so than usual, that was.

He didn't like the idea that Granger would be seeing the real him, while he himself was forced to look at a lie, but he despised that she would likely tell her little friends. Potter knowing was bad enough, but he seemed to have reached an impasse with the boy. They mutually agreed to ignore each other, except, of course, when Severus decided to take points during class. It worked well, but throw Weasley into the mix and Severus was sure the coming year was going to be a living hell for him.

~x~x~x~x~x~

Severus stalked through the hallways, trying not to look as though he was happy about it. In general, he wasn't particularly happy, given that the irritating brats that had a penchant for making his life miserable and took pleasure in ruining his peaceful existence would be returning in mere hours. He was, however, happy to have a reason to charge through the hallways. He had few pleasures in life; he took enjoyment where he could get it.

He turned into the Hospital Wing happy to see that Granger was awake and ready for the day; he had no intention of waiting around for her to prepare herself. He noted that Minerva had already left and that the door to Poppy's room was slightly ajar, therefore, the Mediwitch had likely returned.

"Professor Snape." Granger nodded, but he noted the movement caused her to sway.

"Take this," he said, holding out the vial in his right hand.

She raised her eyebrows. "And good morning to you too, Professor," she said, taking the potion from him. She glanced at it for a moment before looking up at him. "Well," she demanded, "do I get an explanation or am I just expected to drink it?"

"You mean you can't see my intent to poison you with your new found powers?"

Whilst his intent had been to embarrass her, she had the gall to look amused. She smirked at him and he focussed his glare. He had yet to hear of killing people with a look, but it was something he had been perfecting over the years and continued to attempt. He had the feeling he would have ample time to practice over the coming year.

"Well?"

"It will allow you to see past the potions I have taken."

She looked confused. "How does that work? If you've taken a potion, you've clearly changed physically, how is it that I can see what you really look like and what the potion makes you look like? At the same time? And how will this potion," she waved the vial, "counteract it if it's-"

"Cease your prattling, woman." Severus took a deep breath. There was a reason he had never chosen to seek a permanent relationship and if he ever forgot why, all he had to do was speak with Hermione Granger. "The potions I take were created with the use of the Reece Universal Number Theory."

"The potion is physical, but the RUNT holds the magical image of your self, making it easier to revert." She let out a short laugh. "Arithmancy and Potions. What a combination." She grinned and shook her head, swaying again, no doubt at seeing double.

"Indeed. Will you take the potion so that I may leave?"

"Staying to ensure that it poisons me, Professor?"

"If I were allowed to poison you, Professor Granger, I would have done so the first day you entered my classroom."

She rolled her eyes and he glared harder. It was bad enough that Minerva found his insults endearing; he most definitely did not want Granger to think the same, or worse, to be amused. He liked irritating people; he also enjoyed watching them tremble with fear; that did not work if one was amused or endeared. The effect was lost.

She swallowed the potion in one go and he had to admire her slightly for managing to keep it down. His potions tasted bad enough, but the counter potion was twice as horrid in smell, taste, and texture.

She blinked a few times before looking at him. She studied him carefully and he forced himself not to react under her scrutiny. She seemed to take in every part of him from the floor up. She paused a moment to look at his shoulders before her gaze continued. She spent a moment focussing on the rather large scar on his neck, but she seemed to barely notice his nose (which irked him a little, given the money he had paid to have it fixed) and instead locked eyes with him.

He had no idea what she found so fascinating. He was not handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but he supposed, given what she was used to, that he was not entirely ugly either. She continued to stare into his eyes and he was reminded of why they had been the first to change - the windows to the soul. Not that he believed in that nonsense, but it seemed that other people did and he had wanted to avoid people looking through his windows at all costs; he valued his privacy.

"If you've quite finished staring at me, Professor," he finally said, breaking the silence. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, he told himself, it was simply because he was hungry and wished to make breakfast on time.

She seemed to shake herself. She nodded and he was convinced he heard her mutter something under her breath, but he neither wanted to know what she was saying, nor did he wish to remain in the Hospital Wing any longer. Who knew when Poppy might decide to descend on him? He had already had one lecture about taking care of himself and making sure to go to her when he was injured; he most definitely did not want another.

They made their way to the Great Hall in silence and he was rather unnerved to note that it was in no way uncomfortable. He supposed it was helpful given that they were to make the Dark Lord think that Severus was becoming friendly with her. He had refrained from mentioning to Granger just how friendly he was likely expected to get, mostly because he would rather not think about it himself.

After a quick breakfast, Severus descended to his dungeon to prepare his classroom for the onslaught of plebeian intellect that would soon fill it. The day passed more quickly than he would have liked, and before he knew it, he was sitting at the high table next to Granger, watching as the students entered the room.

He had already snapped at the young Professor three times and yet she continued to fidget with her fingers under the table. She seemed, to all intents and purposes, perfectly at ease with her position, but he could see the movement in her clutched hands and it was irritating him no end.

He glanced around the room and, although he had already understood why she was so nervous, it became more apparent why she was fidgeting. It had not taken long for the students to notice her at the high table; it was common for new staff members to be appointed at the beginning of the school year and the students were accustomed to searching said members out before Albus introduced them. He noted, however, that Draco Malfoy had barely glanced in Granger's direction, and he surmised that he had been correct in his assumption that Lucius had informed him of the girl's appointment as Arithmancy Professor.

After what seemed like an age, the students had settled down and Minerva had brought in the new first years to be sorted. He recognised some of the surnames as children of previous students and was rather surprised when Aiken, Taina was sorted into his house. One glance told him that the girl was William Aiken's. The man had gone through school with Severus, although he was in the year below, and Severus had never got on with him. Not uncommon since Severus had rarely got along with anyone, let alone an upstart Muggle-born with more pretence of intellect than actual intelligence. From what he remembered of the man, Gryffindor to the core, he would have expected the child to follow in her father's footsteps.

His musings took him through most of the sorting, and by the time he had checked his house (only six new students - five boys and Taina Aiken), the final child had been sorted into Ravenclaw. He glanced briefly at the Gryffindor table and caught Potter's eye. The young man gave him an almost imperceptible nod and Severus turned back to his own house.

Draco Malfoy was regarding him with a solemn gaze, but there was little about the younger Malfoy that was not solemn these days. The boy had grown considerably, however, he had also closed off so much that Severus doubted his father even knew what was going on in his head. Lucius Malfoy was many things, but a good father was, surprisingly, one of them. He had known Draco since he was born and had watched Lucius, once his friend, taking care of the boy. It was something that would be doubted amongst many, but Severus never questioned Lucius' love for Draco. He was a father, and regardless of his questionable allegiances and ethics, he was a good one. That only left Severus with one problem; where did Draco fit into the balance of the War?

"-and I believe you all know our final teacher. Professor Granger will be taking those third years and above who have chosen Arithmancy."

Realising that he had zoned out all of Dumbledore's speech so far, Snape tuned in to try to read the reaction to Granger's new position. The Slytherins, as expected, were staring at Granger calculatingly, the Gryffindors excited, the Hufflepuffs confused and the Ravenclaws outraged. The new Arithmancy Professor was going to have one hell of a year. Severus tried not to smile; it would, after all, ruin his image.

~x~x~x~x~x~

TBC...