Less Than Strangers

Chapter Six

Hermione woke up and felt disoriented. She blinked rapidly and tried to remember where she was, and why she wasn't in her own bed. Or in any bed at all.

Why am I sleeping in an armchair? she wondered, and looked around. Then she remembered. She'd been in the common room, studying late, and everybody else had been asleep already. She must have fallen asleep somewhere in between chapters sixteen and seventeen of Ars Vaticinatione. The book lay on the floor, a few of its pages crumpled. Hermione frowned and picked it up, putting it back on the table.

She felt drained. Her back hurt, and every time she moved her head to the left, there was a jolt of pain shooting through her neck. Well, good that Christmas Holidays start in two days.

The last three months had been difficult for her and being kidnapped by Death Eaters had only been the beginning. Afterwards, being back at school, things didn't improve much. Granted, she wasn't chained to a wall anymore, and she wasn't tortured, or raped, but her problems increased tenfold.

There was a huge burn on her back that made it difficult for her to change her clothes in front of her roommates, not to mention the pain the wound inflicted even after being healed by Madam Pomfrey. Then there were Harry and Ron, who tried desperately to make her feel comfortable, and only succeeded in making her feel even worse because she knew that things had changed and nothing could go back to the way it was before. Then there were Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster, who seemed to pop up out of nowhere every time she wanted some time alone and managed to shake off her two shadows named Harry and Ron - and of course they wanted to know if she was alright, and if she wanted to talk.

She was sick of it. She didn't want to talk, and she didn't want their pity. All she wanted was her wand, and some time alone with her captors, preferable with her captors in chains, and naked, so that she could hurt them just as much as they had hurt her.

Another problem she faced every day were her classmates. None of them knew what Hermione had been through, and although she knew that they didn't intend any harm, she couldn't help but flinch away every time someone caught her off-guard and touched her,

but the biggest problem so far had been Snape. He seemed to be everywhere. She couldn't take one step without seeing his dark figure looming in some corner, or stalking down the corridor a few feet behind her. It made her uncomfortable and brought up some memories - memories that weren't her own.

She didn't want to know what he was feeling - if it hurt him to see her every day and yet not be able to touch her, or what he felt about her obvious rejection.

Hermione sighed and stood up, shaking off the feeling of misery. Slowly, she walked up the stairs to her dormitory. Maybe she could get another hour of sleep. She just wished that things would finally get back to normal.

***

Shadows. The first thing she noticed were the shadows. Menacing. Dark. Looming.

She was frightened.

The shadows moved, and she shivered when one of them touched her. It was cold, and an altogether unpleasant sensation.

She heard whispers, too. She couldn't make out the words, but she was sure that the shadows were not talking about nice things.

Slowly, she looked around.

She was in a cave, a huge one. The dark grey stone walls were wet with water, and she didn't know whether it was because it had been raining, or because it was something of a permanent fix. Somehow, it seemed important to her that the walls were wet, but she couldn't concentrate long enough on that thought to find out why it was so important.

The shadows moved again, away from her, and she was glad that they were leaving. She had been afraid they might hurt her.

Then it hit her. It was nothing physical, and it didn't really hurt her, but she felt as if something had hit her squarely in the face. A sudden wave of dread and despair flooded her, trying to rid her of every happy memory there was.

Suddenly, she felt strong hands around her arms and looked down. She was being held by someone, but not in a good way. The hands hurt her, and she squirmed, trying to loosen their hold, maybe even to break free. And then there was the face. The face of her captor. She couldn't quite make out the features because of the Concealment Charm he used, but she still thought she recognised him. When he finally spoke, she was sure it was him.

"Ah, my mudblood. I thought I'd be seeing you again."

She was sick. She wanted to throw up, but at the same time knew that she couldn't. She had to be strong, and calm because... because... she didn't know. But she had to be strong. It was important that she didn't give up. Don't give up. Don't give up. Don't give up. The thought rang through her head, never ending. Don't give up. Don't give up.

Then he pulled her to her feet, and she knew that she'd been sitting on the cold floor for a long time already, because her legs were numb, and her feet were prickling with the blood rushing back into her limbs again. It felt like thousands of needles picking her skin, tearing out tiny bits of her.

Her captor led her to another part of the cave, and soon, after a few turns, she lost orientation. She didn't know where she was anymore. There was a maze down here, and she couldn't escape. She was trapped. She felt herself panic, but reminded herself not to give up. She needed to be strong. It was important.

Then he stopped, and she knew they'd reached their destination. It was a small chamber off one of the tunnels, dimly lit by a petroleum lamp. She wondered briefly why a wizard would use a Muggle device. That was when she noticed there were other people in the chamber, too. Muggles, she assumed. She didn't know them. Or did she? They seemed familiar, somehow. But she couldn't place them. Maybe she'd seen them before. She frowned, but when she tried to grasp the thought, it disappeared. Well, maybe it wasn't important. But the feeling was back, the one that told her to keep going, and it said that they were important. The Muggles were important people. And she mustn't give up. It was all very confusing, and she just wished she could go home and sleep.

Her captor pushed her down and she fell to the ground heavily, not being able to slow the fall with her bound hands. Her head crashed against the stone floor, and the world went black.

Hermione woke up with a headache.

She went to the bathroom, took a quick (and not all that refreshing) shower, and then headed for breakfast. Since it was the last day of term, everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Well, everyone except for her.

"Oi, Hermione, you look like hell!"

"Thanks, Ron," she said, too tired to make it sound really sarcastic. "That's what every girl wants to hear."

"Yeah, give it a rest, Ron," Parvati chipped in. "She's had a rough night."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, and then looked at Parvati. "What do you mean?" Harry asked eventually.

Hermione frowned. She didn't really know what Parvati was talking about. Her night had been perfectly normal.

Parvati shrugged. "She's been having nightmares, I suppose, tossing and turning, and even screaming, sometimes. It was pretty bad last night."

"Wait," Harry said, now sounding very concerned. "She's been having nightmares, and you never told us?"

Parvati shrugged again. "I didn't know it was important. Everyone has nightmares from time to time."

"Yeah, but still, you should have told us," Ron said. "How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, maybe two months." Parvati turned around to Lavender, who was sitting a few seats down the table. "Oi, Lav, how long has Hermione been having nightmares?"

"Two months," Lavender replied. "Tonight's been bad, too."

"So, you're saying that she's been having nightmares for over two months, and no one seemed to care about telling us?" Ron put down his fork and stared at Parvati, who shrugged yet again.

"Okay, everyone, stop talking about me as if I'm not here. I'm not two years old, and I don't think my sleep pattern is a matter of public approval. So I've nightmares once in a while - who doesn't?" Hermione said, looking pointedly at Harry, who blushed, but didn't look away. "And given the circumstances-"

"What circumstances?" Parvati interrupted her.

Hermione ignored it and continued unimpressed. "I think I can't be blamed for having nightmares. I can handle it, and I don't need to discuss this at breakfast, or any other time, mind you. And now I'm going to the library." She stood up and saw Ron making a move to stand up himself. "And don't you dare following me, Ronald Weasley. I've had enough of this. I don't want you, or Harry, to follow me. I want to be alone." She paused. None of the boys said anything.

"Alone, got it? Promise me. Promise me that you won't follow me, or send somebody else to spy on me. I can handle things myself. It's not like I'm going to get kidnapped right out of Hogwarts, is it?" No, but King's Cross Station, she thought bitterly, but pushed the thought aside hurriedly. She could see on Harry and Ron's faces that they were thinking exactly the same, but they both muttered "I promise" all the same.

Satisfied for now, Hermione turned and left the Great Hall for some study time at the library before classes.

Parvati, who had followed the little exchange without a clue as to what was really going on, looked at Harry and Ron questioningly, and then went to sit by Ginny and Lavender to tell them everything about Little Miss Perfect's outburst.

***

"Do you think we overreacted?" Harry asked Ron.

They were on their way from the Great Hall to the greenhouses, for the first class that morning, Herbology. Professor Sprout was already waiting for the students, handing out little knives and heavy leather gloves.

Ron shrugged and took a pair of gloves. "I don't know. I mean, she is the cleverest and strongest witch in our year." He paused. "But it didn't stop them from taking her."

Harry made a face. "I know. I want to think that she'll be alright, but then I remember what they did to her, and -" He stopped speaking. Ron turned around to see what Harry was staring at. Malfoy, great. Just what we need, he thought. Malfoy spilling stories about Hermione.

"You need anything, ferret?" he asked, challenging Malfoy to say anything out of line. Oh please, say something awful, and I'll get blood all over that fine robe of yours.

But Malfoy silently shook his head and turned away again. Once they were sure he was out of earshot, Harry sighed. "I just don't want anything to happen to her."

"Me too, mate, me too," Ron said. He shuddered. "I know that Snape's looking out for her, too. I don't know if that calms me, or makes me more frightened. He's one of the good guys, but he's still... Snape."

Harry nodded empathically. "Yes. Dumbledore was vague about that the last meeting, wasn't he? But I suppose Snape's on our side." He shrugged. "I want to know why Dumbledore told him to watch Hermione. Does he think she's still in danger? 'Cause then I don't think we're overreacting."

Ron only had time to nod shortly in agreement before Hermione came into the greenhouse, took a pair of gloves and a knife and went over to them. She smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know that you just want to protect me, but I really don't need a constant escort everywhere I go. Especially inside the castle."

"Hermione, we just care about you. We don't want to see you hurt," Harry said. "Again,"

he added as an afterthought.

Ron nodded. "Yeah - but I agree that we might have overdone it a bit."

"Good. So, we're still friends?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

"Of course, 'Mione. We'll always be friends."

"Not if you keep calling me 'Mione," she said, grinning wickedly. "I've got a knife here, you see..."

With that, they burst out laughing, and Professor Sprout had to call them to order.

***

"Are you all right, dear? You seem... sad."

Hermione turned around, and smiled. "Of course I am, mum. I was just thinking about some stuff from school."

"You've been staring out of that window for over ten minutes now, darling. Don't you want to come down and sit with us for a while?" her mum asked, absently crossing and un-crossing her arms. She seemed uncomfortable.

Hermione sighed inwardly. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to come back home for Christmas. The last few days had been far more stressing than the whole last month. Her parents didn't know what had happened, and she didn't intend to tell them. But she couldn't stop feeling out of place at Hogwarts, and she had hoped that it would be different at home. Apparently, it wasn't.

"I'll be down in a minute, mum. I need to got to the bathroom first." She went past her mother towards the bathroom, but then turned around and asked, "Can we go down to Mr. Singh's and rent a video or something?" Mr. Singh was the owner of a grocery store down the street, but he also rent videos, DVDs, grills, heavy gardening tools, and almost everything you could ask for. She'd known him since her early childhood, and she really liked the man. Besides, before Hogwarts, she'd been friends with his daughter.

Her mother smiled, and then nodded. "Of course, darling. I'll tell dad to go and rent something funny. What about 'Road to El Dorado'? I really liked that." The smile faded, and she added, "Unless you want something else."

"No, mum, that movie's fine. I like it."

Her mum nodded and went down the stairs. Hermione could hear her and her father talking, and then the front door shutting behind him as he went to fetch the movie. Her mum had always loved animated cartoons, and Disney movies were her favourites.

Smiling, Hermione went into the bathroom. Maybe today isn't ending as badly as I thought.

***

"Hermione? Are you ready? Dad's got the movie, and I even made some popcorn."

"Yes, mum. I'll be there in a second," she called back, and checked herself in the mirror one last time. Encouraged by the not-so-dark lookout of the rest of the day, she had changed her clothes and put on a nice long skirt (a birthday gift from her grandmother) and a matching shirt (another birthday gift, but this one from her parents). She put on her witch-y earrings (they were tiny gold witches, flying on broomsticks, dangling about an inch under her ears - though she had put a spell on them to stop them from actually flying around her ear all the time) and a whiff of perfume.

Then, smiling, she went down into the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of ginger ale. She knew that her father would appreciate the gesture.

"...just saying that she's changed," the voice of her mother drifted in from the living room.

Hermione stopped in the hallway, not sure what to do.

"I know," her father sighed. "It's difficult. I feel like I can't reach her anymore. She's so..."

As silent as she could, she moved closer to the door, trying to hear more of the conversation.

"...not our daughter anymore..." that was her mother's voice again.

Hermione couldn't stop her eyes from filling with tears. She felt cold, like every last bit of warmth had been taken from her. Shocked, she backed away until she felt the wooden banister stab her in the back. She suppressed a sob and ran up the stairs.

Once she was in her room, she started to throw things into her trunk, and then dragged it back down. She could still hear her parents talking, but didn't want to face them now.

If they don't want me, they could have said something, she thought bitterly. I wouldn't have bothered to come.

Angrily, she wiped away the tears and yanked her coat off the hall cupboard. Still trying to be silent, she went outside, inwardly thanking the gods that her trunk was charmed to be permanently weightless.

Outside, she lifted her wand hand - Harry had told her how to call the Knight Bus, but she'd read it in books, too, and she even knew where she would go.

With a loud crack! the huge purple triple-decker appeared in the street. A man, only a few years older than herself, opened the door. Smiling broadly, he took her trunk and said, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on boar-"

"I know, thanks." She just didn't have time for niceties. "Just take me to the Leaky Cauldron. How much is it?"

"Er, fourteen sickles. Sixteen if you want 'ot chocolate, and-"

"No, thanks. I just want to go to London." Hermione followed the conductor in his violently purple uniform into the bus and sat down in an armchair. Apparently, they hadn't settled for night time yet, so there were still chairs instead of beds.

The conductor just nodded and went away to sit by the driver. She probably hadn't been very polite, but she was beyond caring. She just wanted to get to London.

***

Albus Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk and waited. He didn't like it much. He was still worried, but he was also relieved, relieved that something had happened, finally. He'd known that it would happen, eventually, and that he needed to be prepared, and he had been prepared. Ever since Hermione Granger hadn't signed her name on the list of pupils staying at Hogwarts over Christmas, he'd been prepared. It had cost him a lot of persuasion on some parts, and - he had to admit - bribery on others.

The door to his office started to glow slightly, and then the words 'Severus Snape' appeared on it in dark green. Albus muttered the counter spell and the words disappeared. Seconds later, Severus entered his office, without knocking.

"Ah, yes. Severus, do come in, settle down," Albus said, smiling at the younger man.

Severus didn't look too happy. Instead of sitting down, he simply stood behind the chair and looked at the Headmaster expectantly.

"What is it, Albus?" Severs scowled. "You interrupted a very complicated experiment, and now it's useless because I couldn't finish. The ingredients were expensive, and I hope this really is important."

Albus sighed. "Of course it is important, Severus. Did I ever interrupt your work for something short of a life-and-death situation?"

Severus made a face, and then said dryly, "Well, last week, when you called me up to see something very important, it turned out to be a pair of green socks you found in the laundry. I would hardly call that a life-and-death situation."

Albus smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry if it wasn't as important to you as it was to me, Severus. Why don't you sit down?"

After a whole six minutes of silence (in which Severus started pacing and Albus studied his fingernails) it occurred to Severus that the Headmaster might not talk until he sat down. Finally, he stopped pacing and sat down in the high-backed wingchair.

Albus cleared his throat. "Miss Granger's parents contacted me. It seems that their daughter left her parents' house yesterday evening." He paused to observe Severus' reaction to that. Of course there wasn't any reaction at all. The younger man's face stayed impassive. "Care for a lemon drop?"

"Albus, you know very well that I don't care about your sweets in any way," Severus said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Albus sighed inwardly. A battle it is then, he thought. I wonder who of us is going to break first.

It was clear to him that Severus had no intention of giving in to Albus' games. He wouldn't react the way Albus wanted him to, and the older wizard was too stubborn to let go.

Over the last three months, he had watched his former pupil. In fact, he had monitored his every step, but he had not witnessed what he needed to see, so it was time to take action.

If Severus didn't make a move towards Miss Granger soon, it would all be lost, and that could not happen.

The silence stretched as the men stared at each other.

***

Hermione was staring at the door of her room. She had spent the whole day in the small room, and she was beginning to feel restless. She didn't want to go down into Diagon Alley in case she met anybody she knew. She didn't need them asking question, like why she wasn't home, and why she wasn't at Hogwarts. She didn't know, really. She hadn't even though about going back to Hogwarts. It seemed pointless, in a way. She knew every spell, charm and potion there was to be learned at Hogwarts. Her lessons were already painfully boring, and she just sat them out, waiting for the NEWTs to come.

She sighed. She knew she had to go back after Christmas. She couldn't just throw away her whole future just because she was bored at school. She would just begin studying more advanced magic. Maybe she could get Professor McGonagall to teach her how to become an Animagus. That would be interesting.

Hermione took a deep breath and stood up. She checked her purse and then headed out for Flourish & Blotts. She might as well get a head start while she was here. She could always say she was shopping in case anyone asked her.

Her mind made up, she took her cloak, and left the Leaky Cauldron for Diagon Alley.

***

"Alright, you win."

Albus looked up. "Win?" he asked, clearly amused. "I didn't know there was anything to win, Severus."

"Quit it, Albus. I'm in no mood for your mind games," Severus scowled. "Where is she?"

"What makes you think I know where Miss Granger is staying?" Albus said, unwrapping a sweet and popping it into his mouth. The sugar always made him feel relaxed, and he feared he might need it.

Severus only glared at him. Of course he knew that Albus knew.

"Miss Granger spent the night at the Leaky Cauldron, and she has paid for another week in advance." Albus saw Severus breathe out in relief, and the concerned look vanished from his eyes. Albus continued as though he hadn't noticed. "I think Tom mentioned that her room number was nine."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I suppose that's up to you. I trust that you do the right thing, Severus." Albus stood up and walked the dark haired man to the door. "Just keep her safe."

Severus nodded, and left the office.

"For now," Albus murmured, sighing deeply.

***

Hermione smiled slightly as she walked out of the bookshop. Her arms were loaded with books, all on transfigurations and animagism. She had reading material for the rest of the holidays, and even if she wasn't allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts for the rest of her school days, she could at least practise the theory and memorise the incantations. Maybe the holidays would be fun after all.

While she was making her way back to the Leaky Cauldron, she thought about her afternoon. All in all, it had been a very satisfying experience to not think about... certain things.

She waved at Tom, the bartender, and went up to her room. She fumbled with the key, but found her door unlocked. Frowning, she checked the room number (the brass number, nine, was still in place), and slowly opened the door, her wand drawn.

Standing next to the bed, clad in his customary black, was Professor Snape.

End Chapter Six