Unlikely Connections

Chapter Seventeen - The Tripper Slips and the Slipper Falls: A Slip, A Trip, and a Fall, Part 2

Severus paced nervously across the office, stopping briefly at the fireplace, then the desk, then leaned against the window before rising and circling the room again. The old man watched from behind the desk in amusement for several turns before choosing to speak.

"Severus, my boy, if you're determined to wear a pattern in my carpet, I'm certain there are easier ways to do it."

Severus looked up into the gently smiling face of Albus Dumbledore and silently cursed himself for giving away his emotional turmoil. He sat swiftly and stilled his feet from twitching, as they so desperately wanted to do.

"So," the wizened wizard started, a deeper grin setting into his lined face, "to what do I owe this felicitously impromptu visit?"

"Oh, for pity's sake Albus, you know why I'm here," Snape growled back.

Dumbledore easily rested his elbows on the desk, steepled his fingers and placed his chin on his thumbs. His eyes still glinted, but his face was sober. "I do know, Severus, but I thought it only polite to allow you to introduce the situation."

Snape sighed heavily. "The Revel the other night ... I was ... injured."

"Yes, I am quite aware," Dumbledore responded gently, "I was informed shortly thereafter."

Severus instinctively rankled at his choice of words. "Yes, speaking of information, why is it that you chose to withhold it from me? Why didn't you tell me the Halloween dance was not at Hogwarts, Albus? That is information I should have had, damn it!"

Dumbledore made no move at the younger man's fury; he simply responded, "Severus, don't play the fool, it doesn't become you, not to say anything of being quite unfitting. You are quite aware of why I didn't tell you. I did not inform you as to the location of the dance because it would have been possible for Voldemort to extort the information from you in a rather unpleasant way."

Snape leapt to his feet, slammed his palms against the desk, and leaned centimeters from the man's face. "Well, he found out didn't he? And I was still bloody beaten to hell, wasn't I? And it wasn't just the Dark Lord and his infatuation with the Cruciatus, Albus. The Death Eaters fully enjoyed hearing my bones crack the old-fashioned way. So it looks like your careful plan went awry, doesn't it? Damn it, Albus, I could have been killed for that lack of information! And while I couldn't care less, you and Potter would find yourselves without a keeper!"

Dumbledore sighed. "A rather egregious mistake on my part, Severus and I apologize. I did not anticipate that Lucius would procure the information and I should have. That is my fault."

Snape waved a hand in the air, effectively dismissing his apology, and resumed his hurried pacing around the perimeter of the Headmaster's Office. "We have to move the dance. Or postpone it. Cancel it, I don't care; the students aren't safe."

"Severus, you know we can do nothing of the kind. If the dance were cancelled, postponed, even moved at this point - with only a week left before it goes up - it would be obvious that I had been informed as to the impending attack. And it would be quite obvious as to who had been the informant."

Snape growled. "So you'd rather risk the students' lives?"

"Of course not," Dumbledore responded calmly, "but neither will I risk yours."

"Oh good grief, Albus," he spat hurriedly, "my life was forfeit the moent Voldemort returned. What's the point of worrying about that now? Why prolong the inevitable?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and rose from his desk. He followed the younger man for a few moments in his circle of the office, but when Severus stopped in front of the fireplace, the older man laid gentle hands on his stooped shoulders. "Severus, I know this troubles you. And I know you feel that this is due to you ... as a sort of penance. But I will not sacrifice your life." After a beat of silence where Severus's posture grew stiff beneath Dumbledore's hands, Albus added, "No matter how much you may desire me to do so."

Severus turned quickly to look back into Albus Dumbledore's eyes, now glazed with concern. Feeling an upsurge of anger and resentment, he moved away again and resumed his seat in front of the desk. "Then what do we do? As much as I'd like to offer up Potter to what he deserves, I think that solution might be a bit too high profile."

Dumbledore sighed at the open hostility that the man showed towards the lately-quiet Gryffindor, but knew better than to comment. "Well, we must ensure that Mr. Potter is safe while avoiding any possible assignment of blame to you. I believe a ruse may be in order."

Severus raised one heavy eyebrow. "Just what did you have in mind?"

"Well," the old man began slowly, "Voldemort must be lulled into thinking that security will be lax enough that you could just walk in, take Mr. Potter away from the aprty, and walk out without being suspected. He must 'know' that it is a one-man job; we cannot afford to have an army of Death Eaters storming the Three Broomsticks."

"So he needs to believe that there are no authority figures ... at least, not enough to worry about."

"Precisely," Dumbledore responded, his face now working in concentration. "The party must appear, to the outside observer, to be merely students." Dumbledore looked to Severus, waiting for the solution that he could see forming on the younger man's facial features.

"A masquerade," Severus said quickly. He tumbled over his sentences, thinking out loud. "Make the dance a costumed masquerade. The occupants of the dance will obviously be students, but any costumes would obscure distinct identities unless they were inside the building, and sometimes not even then. The outside looking in wouldn't be able to pick out Potter and his stooges, so I would be the only one feasibly able to maneuver through the crowd to find him without arousing suspicion."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, he began to stride around the room again, this time clearly speaking more to himself than Dumbledore. "We could have a few key people - teachers most likely, but aurors or members of the Order if they're available - transfigured and in costumes to appear as if they are students. That way the Dark Lord will see no great obstacles, and rely solely on me to capture and deliver Potter."

"Brilliant, Severus," Dumbledore responded, his smile returning. Snape twitched and turned to Dumbledore, refocusing his eyes as if he'd just noticed the man's presence. Dumbledore continued, "I will not be present for the beginning of the dance, showing Voldemort that I trust the students implicitly. However, I can accidentally arrive just in time to detain Mr. Potter and foil your kidnapping attempt. And I believe this would serve to leave the blame of the failure of your mission completely on my infelicitous timing rather than being perceived somehow as a blunder on your part."

Severus was pacing the room again, his eyes darting, running over details in his head. "I could feed some misleading information to young Mr. Malfoy ... there's no doubt he'll repeat it to his father, who'll certainly repeat it to the Dark Lord. Lucius always aws willing to be a sniveling little wretch in order to gain power of position."

Once again Dumbledore watched the man, but refrained from commenting. He sensed that something out of the ordinary was fueling this bitter biting tone, but he knew much better of Severus Snape than to think that he could mention it without unfavorable repercussions. Severus would simply bring it up when he was good and ready to do so. "In any case, we can ensure that Voldemort will receive the information, which you can confirm when he contacts you to solidify plans for Halloween."

Severus nodded shortly and began to rise when Dumbledore started to speak again.

"Severus ... we will have to take care to protect not just Mr. Potter, but anyone connected to him that could be somehow detected and used to lure him away from safety. We will have to keep a specially watchful eye over the Weasleys and Miss Granger as well."

Severus cleared his throat instinctively at the mention of her name and felt compelled to speak, against all of his better judgment. "Particularly Miss Granger ... she has ... already been noticed by the Dark Lord."

"Indeed? How does Voldemort know of Miss Granger? Surely the young Mr. Malfoy cannot be that annoyed with her ...?"

"Well, I'm sure that is the case, but that is not the basis for her situation."

Dumbledore waited a few seconds, expecting some sort of explanation. When none came, he realized he would have to ferret it out. "Indeed? Are you aware of what caused Miss Granger to be marked?"

Severus swallowed hard, waiting for the disaster certain to come at his response. "I am the cause."

Dumbledore gazed at him with rapt attention. "Oh? How so?"

"Miss Granger and I had an ... encounter. During one of her detentions. With the result that ...," Severus stopped briefly to loudly clear his throat. "That is to say ..."

Dumbledore suppressed some little mirth at the man's discomfort. "Severus, my boy, you do look quite out of sorts. Are you well?"

Snape grimaced, snapping back, "I'm perfectly fine. Miss Granger ... she ... she kissed me."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, clearly taken aback. "Oh, I see. And this connected her to you somehow?"

"We have a Comparis Animae connection apparently. As a result the Dark Lord was able to ... access that connection."

The older wizard's face clouded with dawning understanding and whole-hearted concern. He leaned forward on his desk and gazed intently into the other man's eyes. "I see," he responded gently. "This was part of your mode of suffering, was it not?"

Severus rose to avoid his gaze, striding to the fireplace. "Yes," he responded shortly. After a deep breath, he continued, "Miss Granger happened upon me after I returned to Hogwarts and was actually so good as to aid me into my room."

"Yes, I'm aware. I came upon her myself and was naturally distressed to see her roaming about the halls at such an ungodly hour. She was greatly concerned for your welfare."

Severus only nodded in response to this last, but continued his explanation. "I highly doubt she is aware but the Halloween dance holds the possibility for great danger to her if she is not watched carefully. We will have to ensure that she is made safe."

And we certainly will. She is a treasure to this school, as are they all," Dumbledore responded softly.

Severus nodded shortly and strode out of the office.

****

Severus moved swiftly along the corridor leading back to his private office, not entirely seeing what was ahead of him. He simply didn't feel secure with this course of action. The students were not safe; he was not safe. Too many variables. Severus had learned long ago that presenting too many opportunities for the Dark Lord to move past your defenses usually amounted in disastrous results and high body counts.

"But is there any other way?" he asked himself aloud as he called off the wards from his door. He could not think of any other solution; his head was too clouded these days. Too clouded for safety, his mind groused at him.

A loud bell clanged throughout the halls of the castle, announcing the end of breakfast. Severus swore under his breath and replaced the wards on his office door. No rest for the wicked, he though angrily. There was a great clamor as the students poured into the corridors outside the Great Hall, bustling towards their morning lessons. Severus darted in and out of the hallways, between tapestries and paintings that hid him from view, choosing a winding path to his dungeons - rather than the direct shortcut - and to the hideously interminable hours that were Double NEWT-level Potions. And to top matters off, unlike lower level lessons which were divided into two houses at a time, so few students took NEWT Potions that he was forced to endure several students from each house. What a way to start a Friday, he groused under his breath as he swept between the creaking double doors of the dungeon.

Before he was aware that anything was amiss, Severus found himself sprawled on the dungeon floor, protuberant nose bleeding profusely and several spots on his hands, arms and legs aching from the impact with the rough and cold flagstones. The normally silent dungeon roared with a collective intake of breath. Snape was not the sort of Professor who was clumsy or unbalanced. Ever. His movements were calculated and precise.

Always.

When he managed to haul himself to his knees to mutter a charm to stop the bleeding, he turned back to find a kneeling Hermione Granger, one hand still around the shoulder strap of her knapsack that happened to be tangled around his foot. She was frozen in shock, a look of pure terror on her face.

Simultaneously, the pair shuddered. As soon as their eyes locked, both minds had been flashed with a segment of the apparition that had haunted them the previous night. Hermione gasped, stirred afresh by the sight of herself on a deathbed; Severus shook his head fiercely and clambered to his feet with as much dignity as the situation could afford.

"Miss Granger," he began acidly, though his voice was a harsh imitation of its usual cruelty, "you will take care in the future to be organized before lessons. My welfare should not suffer your incompetence."

He shook his head again, trying to regain his former control, and swept forward to his desk, limping slightly and grasping at his quickly bruising nose and shadowed eyes. "Five points from Gryffindor," he muttered when he had regained his senses.

****

As he began the lesson, she stifled several sobs. The dream was haunting her yet, and she knew the instant their eyes had locked that he had seen it as well. And not just in that moment ... he had seen the images in his dreams as well. He had suffered her guilt. She sat up stiffly, trying to will her hands to take accurate notes as she shifted about uncomfortably on the high tool.

Harry and Ron formed a solid wall of resentment and anger at the table next to her and she found it difficult to function with any semblance of normality. Every move of her head brought Harry's scowling profile - and behind it, a shadow of Ron's gawky indignance - into relief in her peripheral vision.

She dropped her quill to the desktop. She knew she would get nothing done and, for the first time in her school career, she didn't care. She could not force her mind to focus on anything except the events of the previous evening. Images of a tearful and angry Ron, a cold, cruel Harry kept wafting through her sightlines. She felt the cold now. A distant and detached disdain from the body next to her, such as she'd never felt before. The ache of it saddened and confused her.

She had supposed this guilt and horror at Harry's reaction had prompted her dream that night. She had no doubt that the chilling waves of bitterness and betrayal now washing over her had been what started it all. But she felt certain that their minds had brushed. She knew that Severus's feelings had contributed ...

Hermione was suddenly aware of a deafening silence within the classroom. She shook her head to clear it and glanced around the dungeon to find every head tilted in her direction, puzzled expressions gracing every face.

"Miss Granger, if you insist on mumbling incoherently during what I'm sure is NEWT-worthy information, at least be polite enough to do so quietly, and leave the rest of these imbeciles undisturbed enough to feign attentiveness. Ten points from Gryffindor."

A distinct murmur of hushed gossip began flowing throughout the dungeon. "Only ten points? Why hasn't he given her another detention yet?" Hermione heard Hannah Abbott whisper.

"Beats me," Ernie MacMillan responded, "she should have gotten at least a month's worth for that little display at the beginning of lessons."

"I can't believe she made it out of that fiasco alive," came Padma Patil's voice from behind Hermione.

Snape continued with his lecture, his eye falling in turn upon each whisperer, but he said nothing.

Peeking out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ron turn to Harry. "What do you suppose is going on here?" he mumbled nonchalantly over his notes.

Harry was quiet a long moment before Hermione heard him responded. "I don't know. But whatever it is, I have a feeling it's neither normal nor good."

Hermione strained to hear, believing that she had perhaps imagined it afterwards, but she was almost certain she heard Harry mumble, "What are you up to, you greasy bastard?"

Hermione had not resumed note-taking, but merely watched Severus continue at his lecture. When the bell sounded to indicate the end of the first half of Double Potions, he began circling the room, allowing his hawk-like gaze to unnerve each student in turn as they worked on another variation of Veritaserum.

She nearly upended her cauldron and stool when his voice hissed close to her ear as she worked. "The dungeon this evening, Miss Granger. Your last detention. Unless you and your guard dogs plan on partaking in something typically asinine so as to gain more time under my private tutelage."

Harry and Ron stiffened next to her and were ready to shoot back a response out of instinct. Hermione, however, steeled her resovle and forced the courage to do what she needed to do. She fixed a potent stare into his eyes and responded, "No, Sir," she bit, "I think I've had quite enough of your brand of tutelage."

She glared up into his eyes, trying to force their connection to open up some of what he was thinking. Hermione recoiled physically, feeling as if she had mentally slammed face first into a brick wall. The man guards his mind well, she thought with both satisfaction and annoyance.

He smirked at her sudden twitch and responded smoothly. "Miss Granger, you are walking a terribly thin line. Had I not thoroughly tired of your senseless prattling and seemingly endless in competence, I'd give you another month's worth of detention simply for that impertinence. As it is, I think a fifty point deduction from Gryffindor will do nicely."

The students around her did not completely stifle their gasps and comments. Hermione had never lost so many points for Gryffindor in her life as she had in the last week. Just today she had lost them sixty-five. And yet, with that beginning to the lesson and the ruthless anger still in her eyes, Snape should have practically crucified her.

Hermione raised her eyes again to his. The deep black pools held nothing of the mystery or softening that the other night had brought. A stranger stared back at her with cold, distant indifference.

"Promptly after lessons end, Granger, here in the dungeon."

"Yes, sir," she muttered.

****

Hermione sighed deeply as she stood at the back table in the Potions lab. There was a list of instructions and a bubbling cauldron simmering over a low fire. But no Snape. Not that she was entirely unhappy at his absence. He was certainly not an endless joy to be around or a thrilling conversationalist; but the contact they had made in those last few moments of her last 'detention' ...

She shook her head to clear it. "No use thinking about that, Hermione love," she told herself.

But unwilling it came back to her ... but not the moment she had been anticipating. Her eyes were awash with the memory of the detention she had on Wednesday. When they had talked. And he had laughed.

She couldn't remove the image from her mind. She was so engrossed in reliving it that she just barely caught herself before she made a rather monumental mistake in the potion. Luckily, she could set it right quite quickly, but she chided herself for not being more focused.

Once she settled into the final stirring of the potion, she allowed herself to think about it again. He looked warn today ... spread far too thin, the ghost of hollowness around his eyes. He must have suffered intensely ... to have shadows of it still linger even after Madam Pomfrey had healed what she could.

As she finished off her potion, she sighed to herself, wondering how thin he would spread himself before there was nothing left to spread.

****

"Step 37: Once finished, place a top on the cauldron and bring it immediately to my office. Do not, under any circumstances, allow the cauldron to spill."

Hermione dutifully placed a top on the cauldron and hefted it up from the table. She grunted in exertion, not realizing how heavy the concoction had become. She wobbled her way to his office, amazed at herself for being able to successfully navigate the stairs without spilling the brew entirely.

She knocked, somewhat unbalancing herself, but she managed to keep her hands around the cauldron as she waited for him to answer. None came. She pressed her ear to the door, trying to discern whether he had answered and she simply had not heard him. She knocked again.

There was still silence from within, and after trying the door and finding it unwarded and unlocked, she pushed it open and entered. Her breath seemed to stick in her throat just behind her teeth as she stood, not four feet inside the door. At the back of the office, facing away from her, was Snape; but this was Snape as she was sure no student had ever seen him before.

Floating about 7 feet off the floor - but seemingly unmoving as it hovered in front of the window alcove at the back of the office - was a long smooth bar about as big around as a shower curtain rod. Snape was hanging from the bar, shirtless, and doing chin-ups. She could hear soft grunts of exertion with every movement pulling his chin level with his hands; occasionally she caught muttered curse words, damning the Cruciatus as well as the Death Eaters. She watched him quietly for several moments. His tin body moved smoothly, raising and lowering without any visual signs of obvious effort. Though it was clearly evident now while he was robeless - being clad only in a pair of trim black trousers (even his feet were bare) - that he was not muscular in the strictest sense of the word, his arms and back clearly told the tale of well-kept fitness.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and watched, mesmerized, as she saw him pause in is movements to shake his hair, damp from perspiration, away from his neck and shoulders. She was wondering idly why he didn't just tie it back.

"Like what you see, Miss Granger?" he spoke, not even pausing in his exercise.

Hermione was so startled at his reaction, as it clearly showed that he was aware of her presence - and most likely her staring as well - that she fumbled the cauldron in her arms, which noisily clattered to the ground, but not before relinquishing its contents all across the front of her robes to puddle at her feet.

She squeaked in surprised but cowered at the glare in his eyes as he hopped down from the bar and crossed the room. His eyes were murderous. "I told you not to let this spill!"

"Well, you startled me..." she began.

"Why didn't you use a locomotor charm? Or is there some reason why you simply didn't put a protection charm over the edge of the cauldron?"

Hermione blushed. Why hadn't she thought of that?

"That would have prevented a spill even if you had turned the damn thing upside down! Honestly, Granger, you are the most witless genius I've ever seen."

"Genius?" she questioned, but he ignored her. Instead he produced his wand from his pants pocket. She heard him mutter a charm, to which the potion that had spilled on her robes glowed a florescent green, as if it had been held under some kind of muggle black light. His scowl deepened.

Severus hastily ripped open the front of her robes, despite her surprise. Due to the fact that he hadn't bothered to cover himself at all, Hermione couldn't help the embarrassed panic creeping up her throat.

He muttered the same incantation at the sight of her T-shirt and jeans underneath. When they too lit up in large violent splotches, he swore violently and heaved her towards the door that she knew led to his bedchambers.

"Get undressed immediately," he snapped.

"Pardon me?" she all but squealed.

"Don't be a prude now, Granger, for Merlin's sake we haven't time. Of all the moments to decide to be a Gryffindor. I tell you, if you don't get in there and get undressed this moment, I shall do it myself!"

Sufficiently horrified at the latter prospect, Hermione allowed herself to be propelled into his personal chambers, where he again bid her to hurry in getting undressed and then slammed the door. It occurred to her briefly that she had no idea what she was to do once she was undressed, but she blindly obeyed regardless.

Hermione kicked off her shoes and socks quickly; by this time, however, she was beginning to feel slightly woozy. Her head was spinning so fast as she grabbed at the hem of her T-shirt that she needed to sit on the edge of the bed to keep from toppling over. Just as she had raised the T-shirt far enough so that it was surrounding her face, her composure left her and she fainted into a heap on the soft, thick maroon carpet beside the bed.