Less Than Strangers

Less Than Strangers

Chapter Four - Memories

With an imperious gesture of his wand, Professor Snape un-warded his office and opened the door. He gestured for her to enter and followed closely, murmuring a line of spells and charms once they were inside. Hermione thought she'd heard the words of a Silencing Charm and an Anti-Eavesdropping Spell.

Nervously, she stood before his desk and waited for Professor Snape to say something. She still had no idea why she was there. She could only guess, and since she hadn't done anything wrong in his lessons since the beginning of the school year, it had to be about something else. But the only other thing she had in common with Professor Snape was the Order. And why would he want to talk to her about that, and in a place where they could be overheard, despite his little enchantments?

"Sir?" she asked. "Why did you want to talk to me?" Nervously, she fiddled with the ring on her necklace. Over the course of the day, she'd discovered that she unconsciously played with the ring every time she was in thought - or nervous.

Professor Snape's eyes followed the movement of her hand and a strange expression crossed his face. He cleared his throat and walked over to a shelf full of dusty books. "I think we'd better discuss this somewhere more private. Follow me, Miss Granger." Snape murmured a password and the bookshelf swung aside. Curiously, Hermione followed her professor through the narrow passage into a dark room. She couldn't see a thing.

"Lux!" Snape's command made every candle in the room flicker to life, and the brightness blinded her for a moment. "Close the door and take a seat," he said and walked over to the fireplace.

While Snape lit a fire, she closed the 'door' (that was actually another bookshelf) and looked around. She'd never been in any of the teachers' quarters, and could only wonder. This room clearly qualified as Snape's living room, although his work seemed to be over-present. Papers and quills everywhere, stacks of books and the newest potion magazines, a cauldron here and there and a few ingredients as well. And combined with the furniture (a low table, a sofa and two armchairs, and lots of bookshelves) and the few personal items she could see, the room looked strangely familiar and comfortable. Outright cosy, but she didn't want to use that word in connection with Snape. It was like having the words 'Snape' and 'cuddle' in one sentence - it was just wrong.

"Well, do you want to stand there all day?" Snape's voice brought her back to reality. "Have a seat. Tea?"

She nodded and sat down on the sofa (she had to make room for herself first - too many books). While Snape prepared the tea, Hermione took one of the books she'd had to shove away to have some space to sit down from the stack and scanned the title. Potions and Chemistry - Contradictory or Complementary? - she had that one herself. Though she wouldn't have thought that Snape read books related to Muggle topics, let alone books that combined magic and Muggle science.

Snape placed a cup of tea in front of her and sat down opposite her. She looked for the sugar pot, but couldn't find it. "Sir, do you have any sugar?"

"I already added two sugar cubes and a splash of milk."

Hermione wondered why her teacher would know how she liked her tea, when she noticed something else. The book in her hands had exactly the same spot as hers - an ink blotch that half-covered the letter 'd' in 'and.' She hastily turned the cover and read the name tag. Hermione Granger. That was her book!

"Professor? Why do you have my book here, and how do you know that I like my tea with two cubes of sugar and a little bit of milk? And why do you want to speak with me?" Hermione was confused. She had no idea what was going on, and she hated not knowing things.

"I... You see, we..." Professor Snape shook his head. "This is very complicated, Miss Granger. I suppose I'd better show you - that would be easier for both of us." He stood up retrieved something from under the table. A Pensieve. An expression of concentration on his face, he tipped his temple with his wand and extracted several silver-shiny memories. Hermione had read about Pensieves, and Harry had described them, but she'd never actually seen one. It was highly interesting - or would be under different circumstances.

Snape put the Pensieve on the table between them and sat back down. "Miss Granger, I want you to watch my memories. All of them. Then we can talk."

Hermione swallowed. Her throat was dry, and she was slightly worried. What was he going to show her? Something from his past? No - he said it concerned her. Maybe how he found her. She shuddered, but didn't want to seem weak, so she grabbed the Pensieve and dived head-first into the greyish liquid.

A cold sensation rippled through her body, and her feet lost contact to the floor for a moment. Then she was standing in the Entrance Hall, just after dinner. Everyone else seemed to be still inside the Great Hall, and she could see Ron and Harry arguing about something. She saw herself, sitting opposite them, reading. She walked nearer and peered over her own shoulder. It was a strange feeling, to see herself like this. And she thought she remembered that day. Ron and Harry had been arguing about Quidditch, again. So she'd grabbed a book and darted off to the library after dinner - or so she thought. Suddenly, a note appeared on her plate, half-falling into the sauce. She picked it up and unfolded it carefully.

Tonight, 7 pm. Don't be late.

She frowned. She didn't remember that note. Then why did Snape? She looked up and saw him leave the High Table and the Great Hall through the back door.

An odd sensation in her stomach caused her to choke, and then she was pulled forward, her surroundings became a blurry swirl of lights and colours. Then it was over. She was back in his quarters. Only that her other self was there, too. So she was still in the Pensieve.

Her other self made herself comfortable at the exact spot where she'd made room earlier for herself. She (the other one) curled up with a book (Potions and Chemistry, she saw). Then Professor Snape appeared. "You're early. The nettles aren't soaked in the potion yet. We can't continue until they took in as much of the potion as possible. And I've already prepared the feathers."

"Well, Severus ('Wait a bit,' the real Hermione thought. 'Since when is it 'Severus'?') I would like to test something. I've read that several Muggle chemicals act like the magical counterpart without any of the side effects. If that's true - if there is a substitute for say, essence of Ashwinder eggs, that could be worth considering. It might be less expensive to use Muggle materials in some potions."

Hermione drifted off. She heard Snape's reply and the following discussion, but she wasn't really listening. It was somehow logical and unbelievable at once. She couldn't remember anything beyond a student-teacher relationship with Snape. She remembered her sixth year project (potions, of course) and several discussions about potions, but it had all been very professional and distant (and mostly ended with Snape telling her to shut up). And she surely hadn't called Snape by his first name... or had she? If those scenes were what really happened, if she had been down in the dungeons that day... then someone had been messing with her memory. The question was why would anyone do that? What interest could they have to make her forget this particular memory? Or any memory that was of Snape outside the classroom?

Hermione forced her breathing to become even and tried to concentrate. Snape and her other self were still arguing, both pointing at their notes from time to time and scowling a lot (although that was more Snape). 'Okay, Hermione, think,' she told herself. 'Who would want to alter your memory? And who would actually be able to do it like this?' She knew that Memory Spells were highly complicated except for the basic ones. But the basic memory spells made the victim forget everything from the near past. Her memory was faulty concerning Snape. And only Snape (she hoped). Someone had done a lot to make her forget about Snape and their working together. Who?

One logical answer was that Snape himself had erased her memories. Maybe she'd somehow offended him, or discovered something that he didn't want her to know. And instead of only erasing that specific memory, he'd erased them all, maybe to prevent the possibility that she'd discover this ominous fact again. But now he was showing her these memories. So probably not Snape.

Who else had the power to do it? Definitely Dumbledore. But she couldn't come up with a reason why he would do it.

She continued her mental list (it held the names of most of the teachers and a few Order members when she was finished) and decided to ask Snape once these memories were over. She blinked. He hadn't even noticed that the scenery was different. She was now standing in a dark alley.

Hermione looked around. Where was her other self?

She left the alley and soon stood in front of a dark gloomy shop. The sign simply read 'Borgin & Burkes.' Hermione shuddered. She'd heard about that shop. It was in Knockturn Alley. She looked around and suddenly found that it was depressingly dark and creepy in the narrow street. Witches and wizards were lurking in the shadows, and she was glad that she was invisible to everyone.

A hasty movement to her right made her turn around. A black-clad figure moved away from the stone wall of a building and went straight at a another person standing at one side of the alley. The person turned and she saw that it was her other self. Alarmed, she walked over to the man and her other self. Memory-Hermione seemed frightened. The man, dressed in a black cloak smeared with dirt, had teeth even worse than Marcus Flint's and a lewd grin plastered onto his face. He put one hand onto the wall right beside Memory-Hermione's head and leaned in too close even from her perspective. She didn't want to imagine what Mermory-Hermione must feel like.

And where the devil was Snape? He must be near, somewhere. But why did he leave her alone in such a place? Didn't he know what kind of people hang around Knockturn Alley?

A bell rang behind her, and she turned around - only to see someone walk right into her. And through her. 'Right,' she reminded herself. 'I'm not real.'

It was Snape. He positioned himself between Memory-Hermione and the man, thereby forcing the man to take a step backwards.

An eyebrow raised in typical Snape-manner, he crossed his arms and sneered at the man. "Did you want anything?" he asked in the tone he usually reserved for Gryffindors.

The man didn't seem to like Snape's interruption. His hand wandered into his pocket, and Hermione suspected that he'd gripped his wand. Snape still hadn't moved.

"I was talking to the lady, mate," the man said. "Why don't you go and crawl back under the stone from where you came?"

Snape's other eyebrow followed its brother and Snape half-turned to Memory-Hermione. "Did I interrupt an interesting conversation here, Hermione?"

Memory-Hermione shook her head. Hermione could see that she was pale and nervous. Memory-Hermione still stood quite close to Snape, one of her hands was resting against Snape's side. Hermione supposed that she needed the comfort.

Snape turned back to the man and said, "I don't think that the lady wants to talk to you. So if you don't mind, we have to go." With that, Snape took Memory-Hermione's hand and pulled her away.

Hermione followed the couple with her eyes, but saw a movement from out of the corner of her eyes. The other man had drawn his wand and was aiming at Snape's back.

"Look out," she yelled, but of course Snape couldn't hear her. The man fired his curse, and all she could do was watch. She hated it.

But before the curse could hit Snape, he had pulled Memory-Hermione close to himself and jumped aside. In no time he had his own wand out and cast a Petrificus Totalus. The man fell flat on his face, his body rigid.

Hermione felt the now familiar nauseating feeling in her stomach again and was pulled out of the memory into another. While she was still occupied with the scene she'd just witnessed, Memory-Hermione and Snape were back in his quarters, heads bent over a book.

She still had no recollection of the event in her own memory - apart from what she remembered from just now. She wondered if she was in love with Snape. Or to be more precise, if Memory-Hermione was. The real Hermione couldn't possibly be in love with him. How could you love someone you know nothing about?

So she started to watch more closely. And registered the furtive glances and innocent-looking touches now and then. She saw how Memory-Hermione and Snape worked together with ease, without snide remarks and intimidating gestures. Without any differences. The were equals.

She was still wondering about that, when she was catapulted into yet another memory.

She was back in the Great Hall. A glance at her watch told her that it wasn't of any use at all - it was still late afternoon according to the watch. So Hermione turned around to look at the clock on the far wall and was surprised to see that it was nearly eleven o'clock in the morning. Why would Memory-Hermione still be around the Great Hall at eleven o'clock? I must be weekend.

"Oi, 'Mione," Ron called. Hermione made a face. She hated that nickname, but Harry and Ron frequently used it. She'd tried to make it clear that her name was 'Hermione' not simply ''Mione.' That sounded like somebody's limb. Memory-Hermione's head jerked up, and she gave Ron a look that said 'Stop calling me that, or else...'

'So we were thinking along the same line,' Hermione mused. 'Well, of course we are. After all, I'm you.' She decided to not think about it and concentrate on her surroundings instead.

Ron closed the book Memory-Hermione was reading and received another Look. "Come on, Hermione. The game's about to start. Harry'll be livid if we don't show up."

"By the time we arrive at the pitch he's probably caught the Snitch already," Memory-Hermione said, but sighed and got up.

Ron sighed, too. "I wish I could play this match. But at least Dennis knows how to catch a Quaffle..."

Hermione stifled a grin although no one was there to see it. Ron had played keeper for the Gryffindor team since fifth year, and he was still very nervous. But with the help of a calming potion and an Anti-Distraction Charm he managed to stay focussed enough to keep the team out of trouble. The week before that match, she remembered, he'd accidentally twisted his right shoulder by falling off his Cleansweep. Madam Pomfrey had advised him to lay low for two weeks. So the reserve keeper, Dennis Creevey, played in the game against Hufflepuff.

Together, Memory-Hermione and Ron left the Great Hall, and she wondered where Snape was.

Her question was answered when Snape suddenly entered the Great Hall and walked up to the High Table. He had to pass Gryfindor table, though. And just before he could reach Hermione, he stopped and bent down. Hermione could see that he picked something up from the bench.

Snape stared at the shawl for a moment before turning abruptly and leaving again. She darted out of the Great Hall behind him, almost racing to keep up with his quick pace. She wondered if the memory would tag her along should she just stop dead, or if she'd lose Snape. She didn't really know how these Pensieves worked in specific.

But she needn't worry about that. Snape suddenly stopped. They were in a deserted dungeon corridor. Hermione looked around, but there was nothing of interest. What did he want here?

Snape leaned his back against the cold wall and resumed staring at the shawl. It was a red-and-gold Gryffindor shawl, her own, if she saw correctly. So Hermione watched Snape watch the shawl, and the surrealism of the situation almost made her laugh. Snape's hands were carefully touching the shawl, almost caressing the soft fabric. His eyes were half-closed and his face was void of emotion. Nevertheless, he looked more relaxed than she could remember (on her own, without Pensieves). Then he slowly lifted his hands and buried his face in the shawl.

Hermione gasped. Well, that answered the in-love question as far as Snape was concerned.

She felt uncomfortable, like an intruder. The fact that Snape had selected the memories for her to see didn't make it any better. It was a very private moment, and she didn't feel like she had the right to witness it.

But the Pensieve effect took care of that when she was hurled into another memory. She forgot about feeling ashamed and awkward because of Snape's feelings when she saw Memory-Hermione and Snape standing close together in the restricted section of the library. No one else was around, and she could tell from the silence that it must be late. These two were probably the only ones left.

Oddly enough, Snape and Memory-Hermione didn't talk. They just looked at each other. And then, as if they'd heard a starting signal she was oblivious to, they bent towards each other and kissed. Hermione saw it all in slow motion. How Memory-Hermione's eyes closed and she leaned in to Snape. How Snape's left hand cupped her face and his right sneaked around her waist to hold her close. How their lips touched.

She couldn't help it, she felt a short pang of jealousy. If this had really happened, she wanted to have her own memories of it. Memory-Hermione looked happy. She wanted that, too. She wanted to know how it felt to be kissed like that, to be held like that. She wanted to know how he smelled and tasted. She wanted to remember. She didn't want second-hand memories; she wanted the real thing.

Then the memory was over and she was pulled back to Snape's quarters again. They were kissing already, and Hermione felt stupid for being jealous of herself. She averted her eyes and looked around. Maybe she could see a calendar or something to tell her which date it was.

When she finally found what she'd been looking for, she was a bit surprised. It was mid-May.

Mid-May in her sixth year and Snape and Memory-Hermione were - moving towards the bedroom!

Hermione followed hesitantly and distracted herself with maths. Mid-May in her sixth year... she'd been eighteen already. Well, seventeen, technically. But through the use of her time-turner back in third year, she had added a few months.

Suddenly, all distractions failed. Snape was naked. Her heart skipped a beat, and she found herself staring against better judgement. Quickly, she covered her eyes and recited the Goblin Resolutions in order of administration. History of Magic usually helped to keep her thoughts in check. Now, however, the method didn't work. She could still listen.

Whether she participated herself or not, she didn't want to see or hear that, and decided to leave the bedroom. Seconds later, the memory ended and she was pulled into another one. Obviously Snape hadn't wanted her to witness everything, otherwise the memory would have been longer.

The next scene played in a room she didn't recognise. It was a simple room with no furniture or windows. She thought that it might be the Room of Requirement.

Right now, Memory-Hermione and Snape were hugging. Or more like it, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. Finally, they released their grip and broke apart. Hermione gasped. Memory-Hermione's face was tear-streaked, and her eyes were blood-shot. And Snape's expression, which had been either indifferent or loving towards Memory-Hermione, was now serious and forcedly calm.

"You know it's too dangerous," he said, his voice bare of the normally silky under-tone.

"I know," Memory-Hermione whispered. "If someone finds out, you get fired, I get expelled and You-know-who would have a field day. He'd know that you are a spy. And while I'm already on his list of 'least favourite people/people to kill' for being Muggle-born and a friend of Harry Potter, that would surely be enough for the number one."

Snape nodded. "And people are already starting to get suspicious. Albus made a few comments that were quite obvious. No one would approve of us."

Memory-Hermione wiped the tears off her cheeks and nodded. "You're right."

Silence settled. Then Snape took a box out of his pocket and handed it over to Memory-Hermione. She took the box, and Hermione knew exactly what she would find in there. It wasn't hard to guess, really. It was about the only thing in her possession she could think of that fit into the small box - of the things she didn't remember possessing. The necklace.

Memory-Hermione's eyes widened, and she made a move but stopped herself. Hermione could tell that she'd wanted to hug Snape.

"It's beautiful," Memory-Hermione said, and the emotion behind these words was obvious.

Snape nodded. "I had it made especially for you. Just so that you always remember how I feel."

Hermione's felt her throat tighten, and she swallowed. ...that you always remember... It must have been awful for him, realising that she didn't remember.

"It's also a Locator. You can activate it at will, but it will also come to life when you are in danger," Snape continued. So that's how he had found her - wait. That couldn't be. She'd found the necklace in her room. She hadn't had it with her when she woke up in her hospital bed. She'd ask Snape about that.

Memory-Hermione was now fumbling with the clasp, but she couldn't fasten the necklace. Snape took it out of her hands and stepped behind her. He put the necklace around her neck and let his hands rest shortly on her shoulders. "You should go now," he finally said, withdrawing his hands. Memory-Hermione nodded and slowly walked to the door.

Hermione was reminded of a very sad film, and almost expected a melancholic song playing in the background, but then she realised that it wasn't just a dream or a movie but real life. Her life. She felt tears prickle behind her eyelids as well, but refused to cry.

Then she felt a warm hand on her arm, gently pulling her out of the memory and back into reality.

End Chapter Four