A Time for Understanding

It was well past midnight, and Gryffindor Tower had settled into a sweet, somnolent slumber; even the crackling of the fire had died down to a mere whisper of its former glory. An air of hushed desolation had descended upon the common room; books and games in disarray, having been deserted for far more relaxing pursuits. Most students were found firmly ensconced in their beds, sleeping bodies hidden by fine beddings and hanging draperies. But Hermione was not "most students". Tossing and turning, she found her bed too lumpy, her sheets too starched, and her mind too filled with a special form of irate confusion that refused to allow her the freedom to drift into restful oblivion. Her inability to reach such a state irritated her, although she highly suspected that if she were to actually succumb to exhaustion, the resulting dreams would be none too pleasant. She scowled into her pillow, still consumed with the events of what had been a truly horrendous day.

After her exchange with Snape, Hermione had been followed to her room by a troubled and solemn Harry Potter. He had been quite the caring and compassionate companion, patting her back worriedly as he asked her what was wrong, worry increasing at the sound of her silence. However, his mood quickly changed when Hermione instructed him in her haughtiest tone, amid still present sobs, that his presence was in no way welcome or desired. Harry's voiced had risen then, vowing that he would not leave until she explained what had transpired between her and Snape.

"You aren't the type to cry over nothing, Hermione. Obviously, he did something that hurt you to get this kind of reaction."

"What about the tooth incident?" she asked, sarcasm polluting her voice. She honestly didn't feel like rehashing the scene in the dungeons, with Harry or anyone else. Hermione tended towards the belief that utter humiliation was something best kept to oneself. But upon hearing her words, she realized she was being difficult, and Harry didn't deserve that. She needed to keep anger firmly where it belonged. And at the moment, Severus Snape was its sole owner and proprietor.

Harry's voice took on the commanding tone that he had developed over the years as unofficial leader of Gryffindor House, although considerably softened for his friend. "This is different, and you know it. Please, don't think I'll let you brush this off. You have to tell me."

And so she did. She proceeded to narrate nearly the entire story: how she had come across Snape in the Astronomy Tower, how she had decided he needed to have someone he could depend on, and how she had tried to be that someone and failed. A fleeting smile played across Hermione's lips when she relayed to Harry how Snape had helped her with the most difficult of potions, and a few shuddering breaths were taken when describing how he'd shoved her against the wall, that look of utter loathing clouding his eyes. In the end, Hermione only left out certain small bits of information; they would mean nothing to Harry, but meant everything to her. She doubted he'd care to hear how she'd held Snape's hand, or how for a brief moment he had allowed her to embrace him. She thought she might lose Harry's sympathy with that information, and she wasn't in humor to hear how she might need a visit to St. Mungo's.

At the end of her story, Harry sighed and took a seat on her bed. He took her hand in his, his sharp eyes serious as he spoke. "Hermione, I understand what you were trying to do, and I love how you always try to help people. But Snape...Look, don't dismiss my opinion just because I don't like the man. He's a tough one to help, Hermione. While maybe it's true that he 'needs someone' to be there...I think it's dangerous for you to try to fill that need. He may be on our side now, but he is still an unpredictable, dangerous man. Please, promise me you'll stay away from him."

Hermione gave him a bitter look before turning away, muttering to the wall, "I don't think that will be a problem, Harry."

He gave her hand a firm squeeze. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Hermione shook her head, drawing the blanket up tighter around her body.

"Well, alright then. Get some rest and cheer up. We'll go to Hogsmeade tomorrow, and I can promise you some delightful distractions." He waggled his eyebrows comically, and Hermione humored him with a laugh, albeit a small one. Bending down, Harry planted a chaste kiss on the center of her forehead and then left, supposedly in order to collect Ron so that they might plan out the debauchery of the coming day.

Unfortunately, the brief smile that had made an appearance on Hermione's face disappeared with Harry's parting, and was soon replaced by hot, resentful tears. She'd stewed in her room for the remainder of the afternoon, the memory of Snape's cold eyes and his breath upon her face ensuring that she would get no school work done that night. She therefore decided that the evening would be designated for enjoying the taste of bitter ire she was currently cultivating. To her surprise, she almost enjoyed the feeling, and had a passing thought that she finally understood why Snape found this particular emotion to be so tantalizing.

However, Hermione found that laying in bed alone and surrounded by darkness was a difficult way to maintain one's anger. Huddled in ball at the side of her bed, the underlying hurt behind her animosity had an easy time of making itself known in her bloodshot eyes and the tears therein.

Sniffling, Hermione reached over to her desk for a box of tissues. But rather than the expected soft material, her hands grasped something far more rough and coarse. With a quick "Lumos" her room flooded with light. It took a moment for her sore eyes to adjust to the brightness the spell had produced. Squinting slightly, she looked down and saw clutched tightly within her fingers Snape's cloak; the one she had never returned. She dropped it guiltily as if she'd been burned, as if Snape would know that she had been consorting with his clothing. She wiped her hands on her bedspread unconsciously.

Hermione laid back down on the bed and archly stared at the dark material of the cloak, taking note of its folds, wrinkles and frayed edges. She hated that man. Harrumphing, she turned her back towards the irritating garment, giving it the cold shoulder that was meant for its master. But even with her back turned she felt its presence. His presence. Getting up, she glowered before tossing it into the corner of her room, watching it land in an undignified heap next to the waste bin. She glared at it for a good minute before deflating disappointedly. Her anger had nothing to do with the cloak, and giving it all the abuse in the world would do little to ease her mind.

She was never going to get any sleep with that man darkening her thoughts. It seemed whether she was worrying over his health or obsessing over his cruelty, the mere idea of him prevented any semblance of rest. Hermione bent down, slipping her feet into the plain black shoes which lay disorderly by the nightstand. She at least deserved to know how she had earned the rather sizeable bruise at the back of her head. The most logical thing to do was to fulfill her curiosity, and then move on, just like Harry had advised.

Grabbing her school robes and hurriedly throwing them over her nightdress, Hermione discreetly slipped out of her room and away from Gryffindor Tower on a quest for enlightenment, and should that remain unattainable, a heavy sleeping draught from the Infirmary.

Arriving at the door to the Headmaster's office, she waited patiently, although slightly lacking in breath. Seven years at this institution had taught her that while the password was indeed handy, Dumbledore would know you were waiting to see him regardless. Within moments the stairs appeared, and Hermione took her place upon them, gripping the railing as her eyes gazed ever upward. She usually felt awed each time she ascended those stairs. To go from a cold hallway into a magnificent room by way of that circling staircase felt almost like a rebirth of sorts. She didn't feel that way tonight though. She supposed the poet in her must have had its sensibilities knocked askew from the earlier impact of her head striking the wall.

She made her way to the entrance of Dumbledore's office, the familiar smell of old books and old wizard assaulting her senses. She immediately saw him upon entering. His body was surrounded by antique, towering tomes, gaudy gadgets, and a beautiful bird that seemed to have retired for the night. He seemed tired and unusually small; at the moment, his appearance belied every one of his years. But it was the seriousness in the Headmaster's eyes that surprised Hermione most of all, and she felt her body tense in response.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. I must admit, I have been waiting for you. Won't you sit down?"

Hermione stepped further into the room and let herself sink into a generously stuffed burgundy chair, uncomfortable despite all appearances to the contrary.

"Lemon drop?"

Hermione shook her head. An amusing thought crossed her mind; it seemed any unhappy feelings Dumbledore experienced were to be assuaged with an ample helping of sweets and lemon drops. If only things were so simple.

"Well then. I don't wish to humor you with the usual pleasantries and small talk, Ms. Granger. I realize you would hardly welcome such things at the moment." The headmaster gave her a kindly look before continuing. "I know why you are here. Professor Snape came to me moments after your quarrel. He was quite distraught." Dumbledore paused, seeming to wait for some kind of reaction on her part. Receiving none, he resumed his speech. "He stormed into my office most upset, offering me his resignation. I, of course, did not accept."

"Why not?" Hermione finally found her tongue, her anger doing a good job of reviving it. "Distraught? Good, I'm glad. He was horrible...and...and...abusive! And it was completely uncalled for, Headmaster. I didn't do anything to provoke him. Nothing at all!"

Dumbledore gave her a sad smile. "No, I'm sure you did not." Then he gave her a rather curious look. "Severus says that you have been visiting him in the dungeons."

Hermione pursed her lips and arched her brow. "I think that is well over."

Dumbledore sighed then, sorrow settling into the creases and crags of his face. "What a pity. Severus has always lacked in friendship. I had hoped he had found one in you. Especially now..."

Frustration bubbled inside her, and Hermione found herself using a tone of voice she would otherwise have thought completely inappropriate when addressing an elder. "Especially now what? Please, Headmaster, don't play games with me. Is there something I should know? Why did Snape lose control like that?"

Although in the protection of his own quarters, Dumbledore's voiced lowered considerably, and Hermione felt herself drawing closer so that she might hear his whispered words. "You are aware that Professor Snape works for the Order."

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded, continuing, "Ms. Granger, the life of a spy is not an easy one. Severus has made many sacrifices along the way. He has even given up the possibility of a quiet life of solitude, as would be his wish, and has put himself in considerably danger on a weekly, sometimes nightly basis. And he has done all this willingly. Severus has never forgiven himself for mistakes of the past; his life is now a way towards restitution, and a hope that he might make himself useful."

Impatiently, Hermione countered "I know all this, Headmaster, or at least I surmised as much. What does all that have to do with this afternoon?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Child, as of last night, Professor Snape no longer has his position as spy to make him feel useful. He was discovered by Voldemort late last night, and was returned to us with a good amount of broken bones and bleeding. While you were in the dungeons waiting for him, Professor Snape was being tended to by Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary."

Hermione's felt her heart give a little jolt. It seemed all the fear she'd felt for Snape hadn't dissipated in the past few hours after all. "Discovered? How?"

"He was ordered to carry out a task which he could not bring himself to do. Those loyal to Voldemort often have that loyalty called into question. Severus has always been able to pass any such test, no matter how he despised himself afterwards. He believed any harsh action taken by him might save lives at some point in the future. But for whatever reason, last night he hesitated." A look of pride crossed Dumbledore's face then that Hermione found a bit strange. "Voldemort sensed it, and immediately knew that Severus was not the loyal disciple he claimed to be."

Dumbledore's withered hands curled into fists atop his desk as he continued speaking.

"They had the intent to kill him. It was good fortune and Severus' sheer determination that returned him to us."

The headmaster looked meaningfully at her, and Hermione a few unbidden tears course down her cheeks.

"So you must understand, Ms. Granger, that the actions he took against you today were not caused by any anger felt against you. He is not adjusting well to his newfound freedom. He has disappointed himself, and feels that he has disappointed me as well. He can't bring himself to understand how proud I am that he could not do what Voldemort required of him." Dumbledore halted his words for minute, the satisfaction he felt was evident and shining in his face.

"Severus refused to take the day off; he insisted that he would at least teach, if he could do nothing else. I thought that it would be all right, that perhaps you might talk to him...I can see that was a mistake now, and I'm sorry."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not your fault, Headmaster. I should have known something was wrong last night when I saw Professor McGonagall instead of Snape. But I was just so relieved to hear him home that I accepted it."

Bending her head into her hands, Hermione cradled her skull. It was so much to take in. Head still bowed, she whispered, "What's going to happen to him now?"

"He will continue to teach at Hogwarts, and I'm sure his expertise on Voldemort will help the Order immensely. Unfortunately, that is not enough for him...he feels quite the failure."

Dumbledore examined her. "Hermione, might I ask what made you befriend your professor in the first place? He is not a nice man, and I am well aware of the view the general student population has of him."

Sitting up, Hermione answered "No, he's not nice. But he let me see him as a man for just a moment, rather than the snarky potions professor. And it was enough to make me want to help him. It was barely a decision on my part. It happened so fast...her voice trailed off.

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "Will you continue to see him?"

Hermione looked lost. "I don't know, Headmaster. I understand now why he was acted as he did. But...he really hurt me." Her voiced was laced with tears.

"I understand, Hermione, and I will not urge you to see him. You are an adult now, a few months away from graduation. Who you choose to have a relationship is up to you. But, I admit it is a selfish hope that Severus will one day have a friend he can confide in. He cannot truly open up to me; he has too many fears of disappointing me, of not living up to my expectations."

Dumbledore drew nearer to Hermione, his soft words coupled with a look of utter conviction.

"He is a solitary man, but complete isolation is healthy for no one."

The room suddenly became still; Dumbledore's never ending well of words seemed to have grown dry, and Hermione had taken in all the information she could for the night. A feeling of abrupt exhaustion descended upon her, and Hermione stood, not wanting to listen to any more appeals to her sympathy. She had experienced too much in the past twenty four hours; she needed some time to absorb all this and sort out her feelings.

"Thank you, Headmaster. This has been most...informative. But I need time to take all of this in. I'm so tired...I think I'll return to my rooms now."

Dumbledore looked rather disappointed at her lack of professing undying friendship for the Potions Master, but he didn't say anything. "Of course, my dear. May you have pleasant dreams."

Hermione gave him a wan smile, and then turned towards the door. Head heavy with fatigue and sorrow, she would have no need of that sleeping draught tonight. Feet dragging as she made her way through the corridor, the echo of her footsteps was her only companion as traveled in the direction of her rooms, which she thought were both too near and at the same time much too far from the castle dungeons.