The Birds and the Bees

Hermione slept, and eventually she dreamed.

She was walking through a dark wood, her path flanked by tall trees. Ahead of her, someone was coming into view. It was Professor Snape, stepping slowly out of the shadows, his face expressionless. The sight of him reminded her of something...something she was supposed to be doing...but the thought slipped away from her before she could properly grasp it. Snape didn't seem to have noticed her. He was turning away, melting back into the gloom.

The notion that she was forgetting something continued to niggle at her mind. It had something to do with the professor, she was sure. Silently she followed him, stepping after him into the dark. For a moment it was too dim to see, but then her vision slowly returned, and she saw Snape's back still moving forwards. He was stepping into...his office? Fuzzy dream-logic told her that this was relatively normal, but suddenly she didn't feel like she should follow him any more.

Felling a little uncertain, Hermione stayed hidden in the shadows. She saw him start to pace the floor. He was muttering quietly to himself, and she strained to hear his words.

"If she thinks she can get out of a detention just because she's head girl, she's got another thing coming...'

With a sudden rush of panic, Hermione realised that he was talking about her. Curious, she started to creep forwards, but her foot caught on a stone and she couldn't suppress a yelp as she started to fall. At the last minute she got her balance, but looking up she saw that Professor Snape was looking right at her, squinting and looking decidedly puzzled.

All of a sudden, a deafening sound filled her ears; loud and rushing like a cyclone. She felt herself pitch forwards; falling, flying out of sleep and into consciousness. Still, though, she could see that stone floor in her dream-mind...the world was still rushing and the floor was coming closer so she put her hands out to brace herself...everything was fading, turning dark again, until all of a sudden....

THUMP!

She was awake. It felt like she had fallen off the bed...but it wasn't carpet she could feel under her, it was cold stone. Sure enough, opening her eyes she saw that she was laying on dark grey flagstones...just like the ones in her dream...With great trepidation, she looked up. Standing not three feet in front of her, with arms crossed and an unreadable expression, was Professor Snape.

'Miss Granger,' he drawled sarcastically, 'you might have at least knocked.'

***

For a moment Hermione was too shocked to reply. She wasn't even entirely convinced that she wasn't still dreaming. Although, the throbbing bruise on her elbow did suggest that she might have returned to reality; she didn't normally feel pain in dreams. Her knee had gotten a bump too, and she rubbed it thoughtfully. A small cough from above her reminded her that she was still sitting on the floor, and she hurriedly scrambled upright, hot with embarrassment and fear.

Reluctantly she met her teacher's eye. She had grown much taller that year, and was now only a head shorter than her Potion's professor, yet he still managed to make her feel like a tiny first year when he stared her down. Thank goodness she had fallen asleep in her uniform, not her old, blue flannel grandpa pyjamas. She pulled her robe tighter around her attempted an explanation, wanting to head off the inevitable questioning.

'I'm so sorry sir, I really don't know how this happened, I was asleep in my room and I dreamt I was here and then I woke up but I was still here and...'

'Silence,' he snapped. 'I am not interested. What matters is that you are here. Somewhat late, but here nonetheless. Now follow me. Hurry up, don't dawdle.'

He swept out of the room. The hem of his robes swirled gently, giving the impression that he was swimming through air. Hermione was apprehensive, but followed him out of the room into the hallway.

Bemusement snaked through her. Upon first looking up and seeing those familiar black boots, she had steeled herself for shouting and ranting, for shock and maybe even fear. After all, what god was a wizarding spy if he unblinkingly accepted the sudden appearance of a girl in a heavily warded room? She should have been in a full body bind within seconds of landing on his floor; yet his cold stare hadn't even wavered as he gazed down at her.

And now...now he was calmly leading her into the corridor; and she couldn't help but wonder why such a distrustful man would ever show his back to a suspicious intruder. How could he even be sure that she was who she appeared to be? For all her confusion, though, she had no better plan than to follow him silently and wait for something to make sense.

They made their way up the corridor; Hermione's eyes were fixed on the floor. Snape's boot heels made quiet tapping noises against the stones. She looked up and examined the black figure ahead of her. His robes were billowing slightly as he strode, but there was something more...she could almost see...something. She squinted her eyes slightly and, yes, there it was...

Small puffs of greyish smoke swirled about his ankles, seeping from under his robes. It was odd looking, almost translucent, like the memory of smoke. There but not there at the same time. She looked away, then looked back again...and it had all but disappeared. She mentally shook herself. Sleep must still be clouding her mind. She should never have let herself fall asleep before a confrontation with Snape. The man was unpredictable and threatening; a storm that might bring any sort of inclement weather. To face him bravely was to be prepared for frost, lightning or gale-force winds, but her mind was still too sleep-fogged.

Hermione was so involved in her internal monologue that she didn't notice that Professor Snape had stopped. She was about to walk straight into him when the air in front of him seemed to turn thick; nearly solid. She collided with the empty space in front of him, and was so startled that she nearly fell backwards.

Invisible, tiny, airy hands pushed her upright again, and finally she came to rest right in front of Professor Snape, certain that this latest display of seeming insanity would surely now provoke him to ask a question. He had seen enough tonight to realise that something was not right with Hermione Granger, yet he was still silent; simply glaring at her with near-hatred in his eyes as she took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself.

It was then that she caught a whiff of something strange emanating off him...something cold, grey and sour. Odd, since Professor Snape had always had quite a different smell when he had bent over her cauldron in class; clean and just a little bit spicy. She chose not to dwell on this, though, as he was currently looking at her like a man who boiled students alive. His evil glare was hardly conducive to ruminations on whether he brewed his own cologne...not that she had been wondering or anything...

Behind the professor was a worn looking wooden door. Hermione barely had time to wonder where they were, and more importantly why, before Snape had opened the door and stepped through.

'Keep up,' he snapped as he strode into the darkness that lay before him.

'Even Ron holds doors open for me...' she muttered, irritated, before stepping forward to follow him. Luckily he didn't hear her.

Hermione looked around. They were in a cramped little room with a low ceiling; ripe with the distinctive stench of mildew. In the middle of the small space was a wooden table and one straight-backed wooden chair. Snape seated himself in the chair, and shot her an impatient look. She was about to protest that there was no where for her to sit, when she realised that that was probably exactly what he was waiting for.

She recognised this game; she had seen it played in Potions many times. He would deliberately confuse and upset a student until they snapped and either said or did something wrong, or started to cry. He would then sneer and deduct points and move along. It made Hermione so indignant. It was the work of a sadistic bully, not an educator. Tonight, though, they were alone, and she had a new power on her side. Tonight she wouldn't duck her head and be silent. She could fight back.

Undeterred by the cold silence of her professor, Hermione dreamt up a chair. Obediently the chair appeared in front of her, and she sat herself down. The wooden rocker she sat in was nearly identical to the one in her mind; identical in every detail except the small green shoots that were slowly unfurling from the wood. She leaned back and waited for a reaction from her professor, any reaction...

Snape stared at her from across the desk; steadily, coldly. Hermione shifted slightly in her seat. Still, though, the cold, dead silence. She smoothed down the front of her robes, her nervous hands only succeeding in increasing the wrinkles. Still silence.

As they sat, Hermione thought about where she was. In a chair. In a room. In a castle. Under a wide sky. The whole world going about its business outside. Still, though, her discomfort and apprehension permeated the quiet air.

As they sat, the Earth continued to careen through time and space. The stars burned; people all over the planet moved about, laughed, wept, ate, talked, shouted, slept. Regardless, the dark professor stared with ice in his gaze. His eyes couldn't have been more different from the smiling stars that shone out of Dumbledore's face. Snape stared her down with frozen ebony, rich and black yet cold and empty.

This was the part where she was supposed to crack, to speak and reveal her discomfort and fear, but she was stronger than that. He was cold, but she could be cold too. In fact....she could be colder...

Hermione set her jaw into a hard line, and felt all her fear and discomfort ice over and crack away into nothing. She thought of glaciers, shards of ice, winter rivers, frozen steel. She met Snape's eyes with a gaze so cold it burnt.

They sat eye to eye for a moment, before Snape broke her gaze with a violent, involuntary shiver as the temperature in the room plummeted suddenly. He pulled his robes tighter around him and glared at her, but there was the smallest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Hermione felt a thrill of triumph. She had him off balance. The game was hers, for now.

'Professor,' she said, 'Why am I here? You obviously had some purpose in firstly assigning me a detention, and then in bringing me here, and I would like to know what that purpose is. It's just that I have a lot of study to do, and I'd appreciate it if we could get this little chat over with as quickly as possible.'

'Ten points from Gryffindor,' he said darkly, but she was unperturbed. They both knew that simply pulling rank wasn't enough to win him this battle of wills.

'Miss Granger,' he continued, 'believe me when I say that I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to...chat...with you. No doubt you are observant enough to have noticed, over the years, that I do not like you. I cannot be too emphatic on that point. I dislike you and your friends immensely, and I had very much hoped to be able to spend the remainder of your time at this school ignoring you completely.' The bitter tone of his words betrayed his impassive face.

'Alas, though,' he continued, ' that can no longer be the case. You, with your compulsion to show off wherever possible, have been deemed needy of babysitting. As you can imagine, I would rather spend my time tutoring Neville Longbottom than looking after foolish little know-it-alls.'

He sighed. 'The things I do for that man; you would think I had sold my soul...'

'That man?' said Hermione curiously, before realisation dawned. 'Ohhh,' she breathed. 'Of course! You've been talking to Dumbledore. That explains it...he told you about the natural magic...'

'Yes,' replied Snape. 'The headmaster has indeed told me a little of your...abilities. He has, for some unfathomable reason, tonight assigned me the task of discussing some of the ramifications of your situation with you. No doubt you had not given it any thought yet.'

Hermione suppressed a blush. She hated to admit that he was right, but she had been so focussed on why and how her magic worked that she had given very little consideration to what she would do with it. She still hadn't even told her best friends about it. Snape seemed to be implying that she had been childish about it, simply practising her magic tricks instead of planning ahead, and he was nearly right. Not that she would admit it, though.

'Professor, she protested, 'The headmaster only explained it all to me this morning. I have been fairly trying to stop any accidents from happening. You saw yourself, in class this morning, that I can't entirely control this magic yet.'

He started to reply, but she interrupted him.

'Not to mention the fact that I have hardly been given any instruction or guidance yet. I don't know who I'm allowed to tell or what is expected of me now...' she paused with a realisation, '...but then I suppose that's why you're here, isn't it sir' she finished, flatly.

She was a little disappointed. It had seemed that morning that Dumbledore had been setting himself up to be her guide and teacher, but now it was apparent that he had handed her over to Snape. She didn't like Snape, hated him in fact, yet he was to be her mentor. He had a similarly resigned expression on his face as he answered her.

'Yes, Miss Granger, that is absolutely correct. I have been sent to remind you of your responsibilities...to your friends, your school...to the world that has so graciously accepted you. We would have preferred someone older, more experienced, but you will suffice.'

'We?' she asked in surprise, but he did not respond. Instead he stood and walked around the desk to where she sat. She caught another glimpse of that same grey smoke, and smelt that sour smell again; but had no time to think on it before something odd happened. Professor Snape held out one hand to her, as if he wanted her to shake it. Tentatively she held a hand out to grasp his, but he only pulled her roughly up to stand before him. Keeping her small hand in his grasp, he said flatly,

'Hermione Granger, I hereby officially induct you into The Order of The Phoenix. Congratulations.'

Hermione's stomach flipped in excitement, and a small measure of fear. She had seen this moment...but always she saw herself standing shoulder to shoulder with her best friends, receiving strength from their nearness. Instead she was totally alone with a man she disliked, sometimes even, secretly, distrusted...

Reality is a funny thing. It can surprise us with the soft way it embraces us and fulfils our dreams, yet more often it delights in testing us; smacking us in the face with constant reminders that we are small beings in a very big world. Hermione felt unmoored at that moment. If age weighed Snape down with the crushing force of heavy years, youth had always left Hermione floating worriedly above any solid foundation of certainty. She longed for the security that experience brings, but life insisted on throwing surprises at her...this strange day she was having only confirmed that.

It seemed like this nearly surreal moment called for total honesty, and so she spoke a truth.

'Professor, I thank you. I don't know what you, or anyone else, expect of me but I shall do my best to help in any way I can. You are right when you say that I am young and inexperienced, but life has put me here...in this room, with this responsibility...and I never, ever back down from a challenge or a duty.'

Smiling slightly, she took a tighter grasp of his hand and gave it a firm shake.

'You can trust in that, at least.'