A Time for Understanding

They were two figures standing side by side; a boy and a girl. A clear and palpable tension hung between the two, although it was obvious this tension had its foundation neither in anger or that which spoke of romance. The boy exuded an obvious dread, whereas the girl seemed to have attained that certain level of peace that some experience when about to partake in a particularly unpleasant endeavor. Shoulders back and head resolute, her only frustration seemed to be the edgy individual beside her.

Ron nervously peered at Hermione, his body responding to its abundance of anxiety by shifting in a continuous, meaningless motion. His legs tread back and forth in an anticipatory pattern; it was sheer determination that kept him steadfast at his place. Hermione echoed his grim expectation with a quick quirk of the lips before raising her hand, readying herself for the confrontation that would no doubt result from the sound of her knuckles upon the heavy wooden door. But mid-motion her arm was intercepted by a much stronger one. Before she could make any contact, Ron had grasped her arm, wrenching it away from its purpose with an excess of force, more than likely a consequence of his nervous energy which lacked an outlet for release.

"Are you sure this is really necessary, Hermione? You know that he gets like this sometimes. He's got a lot of responsibility on his shoulders..." He was lost in thought for moment, and then recovered. "I'm sure he's fine. Maybe you're overreacting." Argument weak, tone unsure-- even he didn't sound like he believed what he was saying.

Hermione sighed, placing her hands on her hips as she turned to face him. "Look, Ron. I don't want to bother Harry either. But I also don't want to neglect him; especially if he's in need of help. He hasn't been sleeping, he's complaining of headaches...he's not himself. And I'm just...I'm worried," she finished unhappily.

Ron sighed, sinking onto the carpeted floor beneath him. "I just don't want to intrude, you know?"

Hermione took a place beside him on the ground. "Neither do I."

They sat there for a long while, trying to build up the courage to confront their sullen friend. As Hermione waited, she came to notice a small brown spider making its way across the opposing wall. She watched it crawl from surface to surface, leaving an almost imperceptible silver thread in its wake. She wished that she could just sit there all day and be the spectator to its weaving skills and acrobatic feats. Instead, she needed to be the pushy Granger girl. She glanced at her left towards Ron. He was staring at the spider too, and she would bet their thoughts were probably similarly aligned as well. He didn't want her to be the pushy Granger girl either. Hermione smirked.

They had not yet made an effort to move when the door they had balked at flew open, and they were met with the confused outline of their friend whose brilliant green eyes took note of their surprise.

"What are you two doing?" Harry stared down at them. He didn't seem angry. More than anything, he looked taken aback at their odd behavior.

Hermione and Ron hastened to collect themselves; Hermione doing a better job of it, as Ron guiltily stared down at his shoes.

Giving the red head next to her an accusing stare, Hermione confessed, "We've come to see if you're alright." She thought Harry deserved that bit of honesty; it was better not to give any silly excuses. Besides, he was far too dear a friend for dishonesty to be acceptable.

Harry looked at them, his annoyance showing only for a moment before he yielded. "Alright. You may as well come in then." He retreated to the confines of his room, and Ron and Hermione shared a dismal look before following him.

Harry remained standing, but Hermione gingerly took a seat on the embroidered coverlet atop his bed so as not to appear threatening. She motioned for Ron to follow and he reluctantly obeyed. When they were both seated, she looked up at Harry, concern shining through her eyes.

"Harry, what's wrong? Ron and I are worried about you. You've been acting differently lately. So...troubled. Can you tell us why you haven't been sleeping?" Her voice had gone up a notch, desperation tingeing her inquiry.

Harry stared at them, indecision written across his face. His fingers tangled among themselves, and he squeezed his eyes together tightly. Then he let out a long, hard sigh, sinking into the chair beside him. He clasped his hands together and raised his head to meet the two sets of expectant eyes fixed upon him.

"It's the dreams. They're back."

Severus watched in consternation as Hermione haphazardly supplied her cauldron with some rather combustible ingredients, she in turn making no attempt to restrain the speed of her activities. He grimaced as he took in the excessive zeal of her stirring and the irregularity with which she turned the pages of her text. He frowned. She truly had no gift for subtlety; the girl was obviously upset. Although, he thought, perhaps he should appreciate the fact that she didn't feel the need to hide this upset from him. Or maybe she was too distressed to care. Either way, it was unfair for her cauldron to take the brunt of her distress.

Severus approached Hermione, gently removing the pestle she had been wielding so wildly. She looked up at him, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"Professor?"

Snape just stared at her mortar, his eyebrow raised meaningfully.

Hermione looked at him, confused. She followed his eyes to her hands, which had still not stopped their frenzied movement. "Oh!" Her hands stilled and she looked in shock at the too finely ground root which had lost all traces of its former condition.

"Ms. Granger, would you care to tell me why you are beating the fluxweed into such a fine powder? You've managed to convert a rather expensive ingredient into utter rubbish." He sneered as he emptied the mortar with a quick flick of his wand.

Hermione looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Professor. I know you hate to waste ingredients." She stared at her empty mortar for a moment, seeming to make a decision. She took her time choosing her next words.

"I'm a bit...distracted right now. It might be a good idea for me to take a break from potions. Just for tonight."

She didn't meet his eyes, but instead began to gather up her belongings in order to leave.

Severus stared, watching her nervous energy show itself once more. He willed himself to let her leave, not to expose the concern which had become visible in the furrow between his eyes.

He heard his own voice, awkward at the same time trying desperately to convey a tone of disinterest. "Ms. Granger...might I ask what is troubling you?" He saw her stunned expression and hastily attempted to cover it. "Perhaps you might amuse me with your tale of woe. A sort of...repayment...for my wasted ingredients?" She had a disappointed look on her face at his last sentence, and Severus instantly regretted its addition to their conversation.

"I'm sure it's nothing that you'd be interested, Professor. In fact, I'm sure you won't want to hear about it." She said the words with conviction, and even a hint of bitterness.

Severus raised a curious eyebrow, watching as she continued to compile the mess of papers that had descended upon her work station. He thought she'd be rather unhappy to know her tone had only further garnered his attention. Silkily, he replied "Lately I find myself with very little...diversion. I'd appreciate it you'd let me decide what will hold my interest."

Hermione looked up from her papers and met his gaze, gauging the sincerity of his words. The truth was, she was troubled. She didn't think sharing with Snape was the best idea she'd ever had. But currently Ron had exhausted all of his usefulness. She stilled for a moment as she examined Snape's face, taking in its dips, crags, and the eyes that stared so readily into hers. And then for some reason, she felt better. She trusted him.

"It's Harry." She shot Severus a warning look, daring him to utter the distaste that had encamped in his eyes upon hearing that particular name.

Severus restrained himself, but felt the little bit of tension he'd been nursing turn into an instant headache at the mere mention of the boy. "And what about Mr. Potter?"

Hermione sighed and carefully took a seat on her bench. Placing her elbows on the table and leaning forward, she stared into Severus' eyes.

"He's been having these dreams...disturbing dreams. And he's really worried that--"

Frowning, Severus interrupted with a scornful voice. "I assure you, Ms. Granger, Potter is not the only one to experience nightmares. I would think he would have grown out of taking them so seriously."

Hermione glared at him, her anger loosening her tongue. "They are not just nightmares! They're about him. Voldemort. And Harry says they are very real; prescient maybe. He's only had them for the past few days, but he hasn't been able to sleep." She took a deep breath and then lowered her voice. "He said he has seen terrible things. Harry wouldn't even describe them to me..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked down at her hands which were brutally gripping the sides of the table.

Severus' eyes narrowed, and unknowingly he drew closer to her. "Have you spoken to anyone about this?"

Hermione shook her head. "I just found out today. And Harry doesn't want to talk about it. He's scared. I think those dreams are making his situation even more real for him. Since the end of our fifth year, he's been dreading the day when--" Her voice broke then, and she lowered her head into her hands despairingly.

There was silence for a while, and Hermione became aware of the sound of Snape's intakes of breath intermingling with her own, a gentle vibration she found oddly soothing.

"Ms. Granger, you must speak with Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded in affirmation. "I know. I was planning to go tomorrow. Hopefully, I can drag Harry with me." She shook her head helplessly. "I just wish there was something that I could do. I don't think this can be fixed with a simple dreamless draught."

Snape bestowed upon her a small quirk of the lips. "Even I must admit that potions cannot cure all wounds." Hermione smiled sadly.

"This has been a most interesting conversation, Ms. Granger." He drew closer to her, his voice becoming a whisper that brushed through the unruly strands of hair near her ear. "I too have felt unsettled as of late." He glanced down at his arm meaningfully. "I thought it was just my...discontent...at the current state of things," he said, gesturing towards the dungeons, "and Voldemort's particular brand of vindictiveness that caused my mark burn. But from what you've just told me...I think there may be more to this than what first meets the eye."

Hermione gave him a fearful look. "You don't think his dreams are real, do you? I've never been one to believe in all that prophetic nonsense."

Snape gazed at her gravely. "I'm afraid I have no answer to that Ms. Granger. Yet."

Hermione gave him a curious look, but he drew away from her and she had no time to question him as to what he had meant.

"I believe you were correct when you said you needed a rest from potions. Get some sleep, Ms. Granger. Tomorrow I want you to bring Potter with you to Dumbledore." He couldn't help keeping the dislike from his voice. "Tell him everything. In the meanwhile, I will seek out our answers in... other venues."

Hermione became truly concerned then, her mouth opening to question him. Severus recognized that flickering look of curiously making its way across her face. Interrupting before she had the chance to continue, he commanded in his most authoritative tone, "Go to bed, Ms. Granger."

Peering up at him, Hermione met her professor's eyes, finding some assurance there that Severus had not even meant to give. Nodding, she hastily collected the sheets of paper that were spread across the desk. She made her way to the door and then turned around, searching for the right words with which to leave him.

Severus studied her pale face and silently nodded. Words were not needed. Hermione understood, nodding in return before finally retiring to her rooms.

As soon as the door came to a close, Severus reached for his cloak and made preparation to leave. The information the girl had given him was of a serious nature. He certainly knew he should be feeling no happiness because of it. But the past few days had been misery for him. And now he could leave-- he had a purpose. He smiled, realizing that perhaps he was not as useless as he had deemed himself to be. Severus grabbed hold of his wand and a few essential instruments before heading towards the exit. Brushing through the archway, he rapidly strode from the room, the door slamming shut with a resounding bang that echoed in the empty dungeon.