In Love and War

Hermione stood in the kitchen door, a feeling of horror spreading through her. What have I done? What was I thinking? He's probably going to fail me now...granted, it was enjoyable to get a rise out of him, but living with the consequences isn't likely to be much fun.

"Wicked!" said Ron. "That was great. I wish I could have thought of something like that..."

She did not respond to his words, but continued to stand and stare into space, a new worry coming over her. Who had heard what she said? Had Dumbledore and McGonagall and Lupin all overheard her? What would they say if they knew? God, that was immature of me, Hermione thought, feeling a prickling of shame as her face reddened.

"C'mon Hermione," Ron was saying, tugging at her arm to get her attention. "Are you even listening to a word I say? You're not going to stand there gawping like an idiot all day, are you?"

"Uh...of course not. Right, let's go." She walked out of the room quickly, but not too quickly, so it didn't look as if she was trying to escape. Did you just want to provoke him? That's not like you...is it? But then, what were you thinking, asking about your grade? You should have known he would never tell you...you did know, didn't you? Then why did you do it? She shook her head for a moment, feeling confused. You've been playing this game with him all day! What's come over you?

"I'm serious. That was a good one, Hermione," Ron said as the three of them walked up the staircase. "I just wish I could have seen the look on his face!" He sighed. "I would have given a whole year's worth of tricks from Fred and George to see that."

"I shouldn't have done it," Hermione said flatly.

"Why not? I'm telling you, it was brilliant. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"What?" Harry had only fallen a little ways behind them, but his voice sounded as if it were coming from a great distance away. In fact, now that Hermione thought about it, he had hardly said anything all day.

"I was saying it was brilliant what Hermione did, don't you think?" Ron said happily, apparently oblivious to Harry's lack of attention.

"Oh, yeah... Sure, brilliant." He continued to stare at a point on the wall somewhere above Ron and Hermione's heads. Oh no, he's getting like that again, she thought. I really should say something to him, and I will. Soon, she promised. Soon.

Just as Hermione was beginning to think it would never happen, they reached the door of Ron and Harry's room. "Here we are," Hermione broke in hastily. Thank God, she added mentally. "Maybe you guys can find something to do and I'll just go to my room to rest or something. All right?"

"C'mon, Hermione, you're not really going to go off and sit in your room all by yourself are you? It's the holiday. What are you going to do, ask Snape for extra homework?" Ron said, chuckling at this as he reached a hand out to tug on a stray curl of hair that had managed to work its way out of Hermione's ponytail.

Hermione disentangled her hair from his hand. "Stop it Ron. It's not funny. With my luck, I'll never be able to face him again. He'll probably hex me for life. I think I crossed the line back there."

"Herm--" he began, but she cut him off.

"You know what, let's just forget it, okay? I don't feel like talking about it right now. I regret it enough as it is."

"I think it's something you should be proud of. I'm telling you, it was hilarious. It was even better than the time you slapped Draco!"

"No it wasn't. It was stupid of me. I don't know what I was thinking. It just sort of...popped out of my mouth."

Ron leaned over and said into her ear, "Maybe you should let things just pop out more often." He laughed at this, and gave Hermione a quick squeeze around the shoulder. His arm started to slide down around her waist, but she shrugged it off and slipped away from him. Please Ron, not right now, she thought. Do I have to deal with you too? Oops...that came out sounding worse than I meant it. I'm sorry Ron, she apologized silently, wincing a little. She probably wasn't being fair to him right now, but she felt so tired and irritable she couldn't bring herself to change her behavior.

"Don't be silly Ron. You don't have to worry about it. You don't have potions with him anymore, but I'm stuck with him for the rest of the year."

"So, drop it." He shrugged.

"You know I can't do that, Ron," Hermione said, trying to sound patient, but knowing she was fighting a losing battle. "You might do something like that, but it's not that simple for me. I just--I just couldn't drop a class like that."

"Are you kidding? What about the time you walked out of Trelawney's class? "

"That's different," she attempted to explain, not entirely sure why she felt so strongly about not wanting to drop Snape's Potions class. "She was a fraud and the whole thing was a complete waste of time."

"Like Snape's so much better? He's a miserable wanker!" Ron crossed his arms across his chest.

"Don't say that Ron! It's different. For one, he actually has something to teach us."

"What, are you defending him? He was an ass. He shouldn't be allowed to talk that way to you!" Ron's face was beginning to redden in blotchy patches, and Hermione could barely restrain herself from telling him to stop swinging his arms around wildly.

"Look Ron, I know you're mad at him. I know you don't like him, but I just don't think he's the complete villain you're making him out to be."

"I don't understand you, Hermione! Why are you defending him now?"

"Am I?" she said rather vaguely. "Can we please change the topic? Let's just consider the case closed for now." She noticed that he continued to sulk, so she reached out and gently put one hand on his arm. "Please Ron," she said. "Don't be angry with me."

It worked. He blushed slightly and said, "I'm not angry with you."

It's awful how easy it is to do that with him these days, Hermione thought. It was effective, but it always made her uncomfortable to use her--What? Feminine wiles? She didn't feel right applying such a phrase to herself; she didn't want to be manipulative or coquettish. She had never thought of herself in those kinds of terms, and she didn't want to start now. You've never been a bat your eyelashes kind of girl, but you have to admit that it might have its purposes from time to time...

"Anyway," she said. "Let's do something then. Why don't you and Harry play chess or Exploding Snap or something?"

"Right," Ron agreed. "Chess is fine. I'll set up the board."

He made good on his word, and he and Harry sat down on the floor to play. As Hermione had hoped, they virtually ignored her. She sat on the bed and did the crossword puzzle in a few days old edition of The Daily Prophet that she'd found in her tote bag, glancing up every now and then when there was a lull in the game.

"Oh look," she mused aloud. " The headline is 'Cornelius Fudge to make goodwill visit to Azkaban prison.' It says in the article 'In an attempt to reassure the Wizarding World of its safety, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge will be giving a speech and press conference on the grounds of Azkaban prison. Though he has agreed to discuss the capture of--"

"Stop it. I don't want to hear anymore," Harry said. His behavior was beginning to truly bother Hermione, but she didn't want to make a point of it. He was so tense that she decided she would let someone off lightly for the first time today.

"All right," she said, and folded up the paper quickly. "Sorry." She didn't get any response. Harry continued to frown at the game board without moving or even blinking, his hand hovering over his one remaining knight. His fingers closed around the piece, but he didn't so much as shift it.

"It's your turn, Harry," Ron said quietly--perhaps even gently, for him.

"I know that," Harry snapped. "I don't want to play anymore." He pushed the chess set away from him roughly, knocking over the pieces, which cried out in protest. He stood up as if he were going to leave, but hesitated, still clutching the knight in his hand.

"Ay, put me down, put me down!" the knight squeaked from inside his fist. "You're holding me too tight, you young rascal!"

"Sit back down, Harry," Hermione said, with an edge creeping into her voice against her will. "Let's just change the subject."

"Right," Ron said, looking a little unsure. "Well then...what do you think about this business with the house? It's not fair, is it? Seems like a ruddy deal for Lupin, don't you think?"

"I know. I just wonder if there's anything we could do to help..." Hermione's face slipped easily into a thoughtful expression, her mind already whirring away, busily turning out and discarding ideas.

"Not likely," Harry said with a snort. "They'll just say we're kids and what could we know anyway, now why don't you go and play with your toys and suck on a lolly like good little boys and girls?"

"Harry, you're not being fair to them. They just want to protect us."

"Protect us. Protect us. Oh, that's rich, Hermione. You know what happened when they tried to protect me before? Sirius died. Because of them, he's dead."

"That's not true Harry. You know that, it's just right now you can't see that."

"Shut up, Hermione," he growled, his fingers tightening around the complaining knight until his knuckles turned white.

"Harry, that's not--"

"I don't want to hear it! I'm tired of everybody treating me like this. I'm not a baby!" Conflict seemed to play across his face, and in a culmination of whatever inner struggle he was experiencing he threw the knight across the room. It hit the bedstead with a resounding thwack and slid to the floor, crying out the whole time.

"Well you're acting like one right now," Hermione said. She knew she was losing her temper and really ought to bite her tongue right now, but it was too late. "I'm sick and tired of the fact that you get away with everything because you're poor, tragic, traumatized Harry. I'm sick of the fact that you walk around like the textbook illustration of teen angst and get angry when people treat you like that. Everyone's going easy on you, Harry, and you act like they're all picking on you. Grow up!"

"You don't understand," he said, his voice going utterly cold. "Nobody really cares, do they? You pretend to, but you really don't. Nobody cared when Sirius died. It was a pity, wasn't it, but no great loss. Now it's just a little inconvenience because they might lose his house. They used him. You don't get it, do you, Hermione? They used him." He had now swung from cold to emotional; his voice trembled slightly, and if Hermione looked closely, she almost saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. She was contemplating apologizing, but the look of cold rage he fixed her with drove the impulse from her mind, and her sharp tongue took over.

"You know what, there's no reasoning with you right now. Fine, have it your way. If you want to be angry about everything under the sun, suit yourself. I can't stand to be around you right now. I'm leaving." Hermione grabbed her tote back and slung it on to her shoulder.

"Go ahead. You think I'm going to beg you to stick around, Miss High and Mighty Know-it-all?"

Ron glanced back and forth between them, but said nothing. Hermione faced him. "Fine, just sit there, will you?" she spat at him as she left. "You're a coward, that's what you are."

Hermione stomped out of the room, not paying any attention to the door behind her. She half ran down the hall, blind with a combination of anger and the tears that were filling her eyes. She stumbled into her room too angry to bother flipping on the light, sat down on her bed, and began to cry in earnest. Groping around in the darkness, she finally found a pillow and a blanket and was able to curl up into a little bundle of sheer misery. Why does everything seem to be affecting me so much? Ron cares, I know he does, but he doesn't understand. I'm just one of the guys to him, except when he gets some urge to snog me and has no earthly idea how to go about it. It's painful to watch, really. Harry--well, Harry hardly notices anything anymore. He hasn't been the same since Sirius died, everyone knows that, but no one's going to say anything to him about it. He can get away with anything and he has--the temper tantrums, the missed classes, and now this. It's like he's not even here half the time. He's so...numb unless he blows a fuse, and then everyone had better watch out.

And what about you? Convenient, isn't it, how you can focus on someone else's problems completely and forget about your own? Like the fact that you seem to have some urge to spar with Professor Snape at every possible chance that presents itself? Perhaps it was better not to go there, she reflected, unsure why her cheeks were suddenly turning red at the thought of her earlier encounters. Well, my behavior was rather embarrassing. That must be it...what else could it be? It's not as if you've ever been worried about his feelings, assuming he has any.

Hermione was becoming more confused by the moment. She wasn't entirely sure why she had been behaving so brashly lately. At the time, there had been the sheer rush of defiance--something you seem to be enjoying entirely too much lately she chastised herself--the pounding of blood in her brain as the words formed on her lips and spilled out before she had time to think. Just look where her new speaking-before-thinking attitude was getting her; she had angered a professor who already disliked her, and she had just alienated her two best friends--for all purposes, her only true friends in the world. Hermione knew she was not the easiest person to get along with in the world. I should be glad they put up with me in the first place, she told herself.

And yet, a little voice in her head seemed to whisper smugly, But you were just telling the truth. They deserved it.

But is it worth it to never speak to them again? the first voice asked.

"Oh, that's exactly what you need," she said aloud. "Little voices in your head." Well, this has been some day, hasn't it. She almost laughed through her tears as the absurdity of the situation came over her.

She was sitting on her bed, half laughing and half crying when there was a knock on the door. Hermione felt a surge of irritation. "Not now, Ron. I don't feel like talking."

The door creaked open and without looking Hermione picked up her pillow and lobbed it at the door. "I said not now, Ron!"

"I'm sorry if this is a bad time, but I can assure you that I'm not Mr. Weasley," said a bemused voice.

Hermione turned around quickly. The man in the doorway was most definitely not Ron, but rather her former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Professor--I mean, Lupin..." she stammered in surprise.

"Please call me Remus, Hermione. I'm not your teacher any longer." He smiled and looked as if he were trying to keep himself from laughing. "You seem to have lost something," he said, holding her pillow up.

"Oh. Thank you," Hermione said, taking the pillow from him and holding it to her chest.

"I thought I heard some shouting earlier," he remarked. "And I could have sworn I heard voices coming from in here."

"Ah. That would have been...me. I was kind of talking. To myself."

"I see." They both paused, and Hermione became acutely aware of two facts. One was that she must look something of a fright with her blotchy, tear-stained, likely swollen face. The second thing she remembered was that not only was she speaking with a former teacher, she was talking to the professor whom she had nursed a crush on since her third year. And no matter how she might try to convince herself otherwise, she cared very much what he thought of her. As all this crossed her mind, she had a sudden very immediate urge to burst into tears all over again. Despite her convictions, her lower lip was beginning to tremble and she felt the weight of tears building up behind her eyes. The look of concern that came to Lupin's face only humiliated her more.

He sat down beside her on the bed and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it into her hand. "Here, take this," he said. He put one arm gently, if rather awkwardly, around her shoulders and patted her arm, saying something to the effect of "There, there." To her chagrin, Hermione found herself sobbing against his shoulder.

When the tears had subsided enough that she could hesitantly blow her nose and begin to speak, all she could seem to say was, "I'm sorry."

"No apologies needed," Lupin said. "Now, if you're feeling a bit better and don't mind me asking, what is it that's bothering you?"

"I--I don't know exactly," she sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with the now wadded-up handkerchief. "Harry and Ron and I...we aren't getting along very well anymore."

"Please try to take this in the best way possible, but that's understandable. You three have been under a lot of stress lately, so it's no wonder that there's tension. I know the three of you have been close for a long time, and naturally I hope you always will be, but you have to accept that things change. People change and grow apart, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I suppose so," she replied. "But I do wonder sometimes if there's more to it than that. I don't know what, but it just seems like there should be something more. I don't really know what I'm saying though. Forget it. I'm probably talking nonsense." She waved her hand in the air, as if she was erasing her previous words.

"Hermione, I don't mean to intrude..." he said hesitantly, "but if there's anything you'd like to tell me, anything you want to discuss, I would like you to know that I'm always here. You can tell me anything, understand?"

"Yes," Hermione said as she stifled a large yawn.

"Well," Lupin said with a smile, "it's getting late. It might be best if you get a good night's sleep, hmm?"

"All right." She nodded, realizing how tired she was. "Good night, Prof--Remus." He stood to leave then, giving her hand a quick squeeze. For a moment he just stood there, looking at her, and Hermione felt herself blush slightly. Reaching forward, he smoothed a tendril of hair back from her face, in the same sort of gesture Ron had done to her earlier, but this time Hermione found she did not mind at all.

He pulled his hand back, and the moment was broken. "Well, I'd better be off," he said and turned towards the door.

"Wait!" Hermione said, a bit stronger than she intended. "Um...thank you."

"You're welcome." He bowed his head before closing the door. "Any time."

***

Snape set his quill down and heaved a sigh of relief. The exams were done for the term, and there wasn't a single near-perfect score to dampen the mood of relaxation that came over him. A glance at the dying candle told him it was late and a large yawn confirmed the finding. He could go to bed now, but why not celebrate? He unpacked his tea set leisurely, pulled his wand out of his pocket and set about making himself a good cup of tea, slightly enhanced by a dash of liquid from a small bottle of brandy he kept tucked away with his lesson plans. Leaning back in his chair, a trace of what might have been a smile came to his lips. "Peace. Quiet. Too good to last, I'm sure."

As with all pessimistic prophecies, it came true. Snape heard the sound of a door slamming and someone stomping down the hall. He looked up and through the crack of the door saw Hermione going past in tears. He stood in the doorway and he watched her go into her room and shut the door. From the sounds he heard, he deduced that she was crying harder now, with pauses where she seemed to be talking angrily at no one. Never having been one for empathy, Snape found himself quite confused by the urge to go to her. Go to her and what? Soothe her with meaningless words of comfort? Take her in his arms and kiss her tears away? The impulse that he assured himself was not compassion prompted him to cross the room, but when he was faced with the prospect of actually leaving the room, he hesitated. He remembered her earlier behavior towards him, and shook his head. There was no doubt that whatever he felt for her--he could not at this moment give his emotions a name--she did not return the feelings in kind. No, she had made it perfectly clear that she thought very little of him. What does she see me as? An unpleasant teacher, Lucius Malfoy's lackey? Well, she's right about one thing. I am not a nice person.

So why did he continue to stand in the doorway instead of sitting down? Why did the sound of her weeping pain him so much? If anyone discovered this weakness, anyone at all, he would never be able to live it down. Feeling this way for a student he didn't even like was utterly wrong, he told himself. Wrong. But it felt even more wrong to leave her crying by herself... He continued to stand there, wavering between two options. Either one it seemed would cause unhappiness.

And then his inner turmoil was no longer valid, for Remus Lupin came walking down the hall and knocked on Hermione's door. Snape watched him disappear inside and heard the murmur of voices. The moment was gone and he was forced to remember that he had absolutely no right to see to the welfare of Hermione Granger. And that's Remus' job? he thought bitterly. Oh, it goaded him to imagine Remus Lupin consoling Hermione. He certainly has a knack for getting what I want... Images flashed through his mind. Remus getting his prefect's badge. Remus arriving at Hogwarts for his Defense Against the Dark Arts post. And now, Remus comforting Hermione... No, Snape told himself. It does no good to think that way. You were right in not going to her. You know how you despise those fools who wear their heart on their sleeve. To be ruled by your emotions is to be weak. At least he was still in control, wasn't he? He had that much, he reassured himself as he returned to his desk and made an effort to ignore the growing feeling of emptiness.

A clock down the hall struck the hour, but he did not bother counting to see what time it was. Snape sat alone in his office with his pile of graded papers and cooling mug of tea, not sure if he had just won a victory or lost the battle.