The Room of Lost Dreams

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The chocolate biscuits and other Weasleys had disappeared by the time Hermione joined Harry and Ron for tea, but Harry and Ron's gaiety more than enough made up for it. She nearly upset her cup when they told her the reason for their high spirits.

'You're joking!' she exclaimed.

'Nope!' said Ron, grinning. 'It's right there on the parchment. We're in, the three of us!'

'But it's impossible! You need to have at least five N.E.W.T.s in order to enter Auror training.'

'I reckon Kingsley pulled some strings for us,' said Harry. 'It's not like we couldn't get five N.E.W.T.s if we sat them after this year.'

'But we haven't sat our exams! It would be blatant favouritism to let us to start Auror training right now.'

'Well, not quite now,' said Ron. 'Term starts in three days. We're to report tomorrow to learn our way around.'

'But it means working for the Ministry. Kingsley's only Interim Minister. What if he gets replaced by someone awful like Umbridge?'

'Well, then it'll be handy to know how the Ministry works,' said Harry. 'We'd beat her at her own game.'

'I don't know, Harry,' she said frowning. 'This is an awfully big decision to make just like that.'

'But we're not just making it,' said Ron. 'This is what we wanted to do.'

'No, this is what Harry wanted to do,' said Hermione. 'You wanted to play Seeker for the Cannons.'

Ron's ears went red. 'I've grown up a bit since then, Hermione.'

'That's exactly my point,' she said patiently. 'Given our experiences of the past year, we could do anything. There's no sense in deciding something like this simply because it's what we wanted once.'

'Well, maybe Harry and me still want it,' said Ron. 'It'll be a far sight better than sitting the sodding N.E.W.T.s.'

Hermione's lips thinned. 'If you want to take the first thing that you're offered like a complete plonker, then fine.'

'He's right, Hermione,' said Harry, reluctantly stepping into the fray. 'This is what both of us want to do.'

'Don't you think you could do better? Aim a bit higher?'

'We're not bloody Slytherins, Hermione,' said Ron.

'Besides,' said Harry philosophically, 'Auror training takes about a year, so we'll be sitting exams at the same time, just slightly different ones.'

Hermione looked back and forth between her friends. 'This is really what you want?'

'Yeah.'

''Course it is.'

'Then good luck,' said Hermione, eyes filling with tears again.

'Hermione!' exclaimed Ron, hugging her. 'We're not going to Calcutta. We'll be in London.'

'You're sure you won't join us?' asked Harry doubtfully.

Hermione laughed wetly. 'No, I've other things planned.'

'Revision and house-elf rights, then,' said Ron with a wink. 'We'd better get back to Hogwarts before Mum sets us to doing more chores. Harry and I have got to pack tonight, and you've got tonight to tell us how much you'll miss us.'

'Oh, awfully,' said Hermione, smiling a little. 'Who's going to distract me from all the difficult Arithmancy revision I need to do?'

'We'll write,' said Harry.

'Especially when we need help with Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions,' said Ron

'You forgot the character and aptitude tests,' said Hermione.

Ron pshawed this. 'As if anyone needs character or aptitude in real life.'

All three dissolved into laughter, which abated only when they were interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared. They turned in unison to find Ginny standing in the doorway.

'Where were you all morning, Hermione?' she asked, her intense look belying the light tone of her words. 'You missed all the window-washing fun.'

'I accidentally fell asleep out in your dad's shed,' said Hermione, settling for a slightly edited version of the truth. 'Then, we had a cosy little chat.'

'Don't give her a hard time, Gin,' said Ron. 'Well, except for giving Mum so many rutabagas. I hate rutabagas.'

A look passed between Harry and Ginny. He nodded, then turned to Hermione. 'We'll get you when it's time to go.'

'Fine. See you then.'

The boys left, leaving the girls alone in the sitting room.

'It's gone,' said Hermione. 'That's what you want to hear, isn't it?'

'I had to tell Dad,' said Ginny, having the grace to look abashed.

'I'm glad you did,' said Hermione, not untruthfully. If Arthur hadn't approached her, she wouldn't have been able to warn the Malfoys about the semi-official questions about Severus's demise.

'Really?' asked Ginny doubtfully. 'I thought you'd never want to speak to me again.'

'Well, I can't say I was exactly pleased at the time,' she admitted, 'but it was for the best, and now the journal's gone where it can't enchant anyone else.'

'So you do think it was meant to enchant you?'

'In a way,' said Hermione. 'I don't think it would have worked on just anybody.'

Ginny's eyes widened. 'So what did Snape do to it?'

Hermione didn't answer her.

'Come off it, Hermione!' exclaimed Ginny, flopping down on the sofa. 'You were in danger. You admitted as much yourself. Aren't you glad I told Dad instead of Ron and Harry?'

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. 'Do you remember what I said about Tom Riddle splitting his soul to make his diary?'

'Yeah. Harry said it's called a Horcrux. That's one of the thousands of things I won't be telling Dad.'

'Well, I found a book that talks about making them called Secrets of the Darkest Art.'

'You know how to MAKE them?'

'I just read the book to learn how to destroy them, Ginny. Professor Dumbledore removed all the protections on the book, so it's pretty clear he wanted us to read it. And don't worry. I like my soul as it is, thanks very much.'

Ginny shook her head and took a bite of biscuit. 'I just never figured you'd dare read up on the Dark Arts. I mean, I know Harry says he's cast Unforgivables, but I never thought about you or Ron having to do anything like that.'

'An awful lot happened this year,' said Hermione. 'Now, back to Severus's diary.'

'So it was a Horcrux,' breathed Ginny.

'It wasn't a Horcrux.'

'Then quit faffing about and tell me what it was!'

Hermione swallowed. 'Secrets of the Darkest Art has more in it than practical instructions for splitting your soul. It also features a chapter about preparing yourself to do it.'

'What, like drinking extra water and not eating any solid food?' asked Ginny.

'Something a bit more drastic. You see, splitting your soul can get messy, with remnants of you clinging to the split part of it. It's one of the biggest complications in making Horcruxes. The mind is usually controlled enough not to cleave to the soul, but the heart sometimes sacrifices itself and is torn during the sundering process.'

'Persephone's Pants,' breathed Ginny.

'The book suggests a 'sensible prophylactic measure'- simply remove the heart, and you don't have to worry about the agony of having it torn to bits. The book talks about the heart like it's an unnecessary and potentially harmful part, like an appendix. That's why I never considered what could happen if someone's heart became trapped in an object.'

'You think Snape removed his heart and put it in his journal?' Ginny looked horrified. 'Why would he do that?'

Hermione lowered her voice. 'He might have wanted to spare himself the pain of losing someone. Who knows, he might not have done it on purpose. He might not even know it's gone.'

Ginny looked sceptical. 'How could you accidentally remove your own heart?'

'The same way Harry accidentally became a Horcrux. The ingredients and magic were there, and it just sort of happened. Casting advanced protective magic on his journal could have done it, especially if he did it not long after its intended recipient broke his heart,' said Hermione.

'Blimey,' said Ginny. 'Well, on the upside, he seemed to do all right without it.'

'If you consider living a half-existence as a hateful, vindictive, emotional toddler 'all right,'' said Hermione hotly. 'It's a tragedy! Think what he might have done! He might not have joined Voldemort. He might have fallen in love and had a family. He might have been happy!'

'And if that had happened, Harry would have never been able to kill Voldemort,' said Ginny. 'Snape made a sacrifice. So did Professor Dumbledore. So did Harry's mum. So did you, Ron, and Harry. You all made your own choices. Dad says that it doesn't do any good to think about the what-ifs. You'll just what-if yourself into misery.'

'I'm already there,' said Hermione. She was surprised to feel another tear running down her face. She thought she'd used them all.

'You did love him, didn't you?' asked Ginny softly.

'I don't know. Maybe his heart's concentrated passions overpowered my common sense. Or maybe all the feelings were his and I was just a convenient receptacle for them,' said Hermione.

'But it felt like love all the same.'

'Yes, it did.'

'You did the right thing,' said Ginny, smoothing Hermione's hair with her hand. 'You don't think that it'll cause any more trouble once the book's destroyed, do you?'

'I don't think so. The book says sundered hearts disappear when they're separated from a corporeal receptacle, like a person or an enchanted object,' said Hermione, rubbing her tears away. 'Hearts are more delicate than souls, I suppose.'

'Then perhaps it means something that the protection spells he put on the journal let his heart live on, even after his death.'

An image of Professor Snape blasting the journal into oblivion appeared in her mind's eye. 'It means I've killed it,' said Hermione.

'Or maybe you set it free.'

The girls sat in companionable silence until Harry and Ron appeared to take Hermione back to Hogwarts.

o0o

Hermione had expected Hogwarts to be much quieter after Ron and Harry left for Auror training, but she was on her feet constantly, between her own Lycanthropy research, helping Madam Pomfrey with brewing and administering potions, owling her friends, refusing offers of interviews and ribbon cuttings, and prevaricating to Lucius Malfoy, who'd been persistently seeking information on Severus's journal. She finally gave in to her temper and wrote, 'If you want to know so badly, ASK HIM!' She hadn't received a reply, and the subsequent relief combined with her hectic schedule kept her far too busy to mope. Much.

Her thoughts still fled to him when she found an obviously faulty conclusion in a peer-reviewed journal, or when she came across a potion he'd taught in long-ago Potions classes. It had only been a matter of weeks since returning Severus's journal, but it was getting harder and harder to separate the boy she loved from the man she'd known.

The summer passed and students returned to Hogwarts, which was now virtually indistinguishable from what it had been before Voldemort's assault. The Headmistress had been unable to dissuade the Minister from installing a plaque honouring the dead at the place where Voldemort fell. It was so typical of him to have died nearest the Slytherin table. Hermione wondered how many times Harry's face would be stepped, spilt, or spit on over the years.

Hermione was relieved to find that her heartache lessened with time, and before she knew it Hagrid was dragging oversized firs into the school in preparation for Christmas. She was unsurprised that Severus had not made a grand re-appearance, given the extent of his injuries and the fact that the Wizengamot was hopelessly deadlocked on whether or not Severus Snape should be posthumously convicted of murder, despite Harry's official statement to the contrary. She did her best not to think of him, instead choosing to focus on her final letters to Harry and Ron before they were allowed to come home for the holidays.

She described the progress she'd made in her Lycanthropy research in layman's terms for them, hoping the boys would at least remember the difference between wrackspurt and spackroot, and encouraged them to use the planners she'd given them when preparing for exams. The planners had resurfaced not long after Fred's memorial, and imagining their faces when they opened her package still made her giggle.

She signed the letters with a grin and made her way to the owlery with a light heart. The room was frigid, but at least it was protected from the wind that whistled through the open windows. She approached two owls that were perched next to each other and fastened the letters to their legs. They hooted disconsolately, as if reluctant to leave their sheltered tower.

'London's not that far,' she said comfortingly. At the owls' downcast expressions, she sighed impatiently and fed them both treats. 'Honestly, it's not as if I'm sending you with packages or anything.'

'If you didn't want mournful expressions, you shouldn't have given your letters to barn owls,' came a familiar voice from behind her.

Hermione spun about to see Severus Snape emerging from a Demiguise-hair cloak.

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