Hour of Grace

HOUR OF GRACE

by Strega Brava

Chapter Ten: Flick of the Wrist

Over the next several days, Harry and Ron grumbled and complained about the ingredients that were required for the Omniapurgalis potion. The list Professor Snape had given them was quite extensive and required repeat visits to both Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout. The two venerable ladies were curious about what the students were doing but Harry, sensing that it was perhaps best to keep a low profile, told them it was a special project for Professor Snape to which they nodded knowingly, eyebrows raised. Apparently, Professor Snape was rather infamous for his "special projects" which were his own euphemism for detention.

"I’m just glad that I am not the one that has to drink this stuff," Ron told Hermione one night as he brought her a small cauldron full of stinging nettles.

"Thanks, Ron," she said absently as she began to take them out of the cauldron and examine the individual nettles for bruising or mishandling. They had to be in perfect condition in order to be used in the potion.

"You should have told me that I needed gloves to pick these," Ron groused as he sat down next to her, watching her methodical examination.

"They’re stinging nettles, Ron," she replied quietly, looking at a nettle closely then, apparently pleased, putting it in a small silver dish.

Ron didn’t say anything. He was still trying to internalize all the information from the past few days.

Hermione turned to him with a smile. "You did a really good job at gathering the nettles, Ron. Let me see your hands."

Ron held up his hands for her to see. There were small, painful swellings on his fingers and one on the back of his left hand.

"You said they had to be in perfect condition," he mumbled as she performed a cooling spell with her wand to ease the swelling and reduce the pain.

"Is that better?"

He flexed and stretched his fingers a few times and looked at her, somewhat surprised. "Yeah, loads better. Thanks."

"No, I think I should be the one to thank you. You have been really great about all this. I didn’t expect you to take it at all well."

Ron sighed and put his arm around her shoulders. "This isn’t exactly easy for me."

"I know," Hermione replied. "I’m glad you’re still my friend."

"You’re stuck with me," he joked.

"Me too," Harry called as he entered the laboratory with a plate full of dried scarlet nightcrawlers.

"Ugh, I’m glad I don’t have to help you with those," Ron shuddered as Hermione set to work pounding the nightcrawlers into a carnelian powder.

Harry and Ron watched as Hermione continued pounding with her mortar and pestle. A few minutes later they were joined by Professor Snape, who nodded approvingly at their progress.

"This is coming along well," the older man remarked as he looked over the ingredients gathered so far. "You should be able to begin brewing the potion next week, Miss Granger. In the meantime, I suggest we begin practicing the spell tomorrow night. We will need someone for you to practice on."

Harry and Ron looked at one another and did a quick game of rock-scissors-paper to determine who the lucky (or unlucky, as the case might be) volunteer would be. Harry sighed as Ron’s "paper" covered his "rock".

"It figures," he mumbled, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes tiredly as Professor Snape chuckled.

"It won’t be quite as bad as you think, Mister Potter. Nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t fix."

Harry did not look particularly reassured but said nothing.

The next day, the friends gathered at the Gryffindor table for an early dinner. They planned to meet with Professor Snape afterwards at ten o’clock…late enough for them to go to the Quidditch pitch and be assured of privacy at this time of year.

"I can’t believe it!" Ron fumed as he piled mashed potatoes onto his plate. "He has us doing all this extra stuff and he still gives us two assignments!"

Hermione smiled at him as she munched thoughtfully on a cob of corn.

"What did you expect, Ron?" Harry asked as he took a sausage from a nearby platter. "Did you think he was going to exempt us from our regular schoolwork? Us? Gryffindors? How unlikely would that be?"

"He’s doing it on purpose," Ron grumbled as he strategically placed several pats of butter on the steaming mound of potatoes.

"He’s trying to help us. He has a vested interest in all this, Ron," Hermione stole one of the pats of butter from Ron’s potatoes and slathered it on her corn. "He wants to save Draco as well."

"Speaking of whom, here he is," Harry whispered, nudging Hermione carefully.

Hermione resisted the urge to turn around immediately but waited several seconds before casually turning, as if looking for someone. He was alone. She saw him staring at her with that expression on his face that made her knees turn to water. She smiled at him, as if to encourage him and he smiled back…very nervously.

There was a fluttering of velvet soft wings and an eagle owl swooped down into the Great Hall. It landed directly in front of Draco and, even from that distance, Hermione could see that a parchment was attached to its leg. Trembling, Draco reached over and untied the parchment, unrolled it and began to read. His face paled, he got up and, dropping the parchment, walked quickly out of the Great Hall. Professor Snape, who had just walked in, immediately turned and followed.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked Hermione quietly. She shrugged her shoulders and began to bite at her fingernails.

Ron whispered something while flicking his wand nonchalantly and the parchment quietly fell to the floor, drifting lazily towards his feet. Picking it up casually, he spread it out for them to read.

Draco,

Your time approaches. Do not think that you can escape your glorious destiny. Denial of your fate will only bring you death. I look forward to the day when you fulfill your vow of loyalty to the Master.

Father

Before any of them could react to the words written by such a cold-hearted monster, the parchment burst into flame and was instantly consumed.

The three friends looked at one another in horror.

"This is getting serious," Ron said sternly, poking at the ashes with his wand.

"We don’t have a lot of time," Harry nodded and looked at Hermione.

"We have to go to the library…there is a book in the Restricted Section I need to sign out," Hermione whispered, a look of determination on her face. Without waiting for her friends, she got up and started walking out. They immediately made their way out as well, racing slightly to catch up with her.

"No matter what…we always end up in the library, don’t we?" Ron moaned dramatically while Harry snickered.

"Wouldn’t want to break tradition," Harry smiled.

"You reckon we ought to warn Malfoy?"

"Let him find out on his own…I don’t think he will mind much."

**********In the library************

Harry and Ron were immersed in translating an old Mermish text that Hermione had found for them. It had been a recommendation of Professor Snape to research the chapter on elixirs prepared by this curious race as it gave some detailed examples of the brewing processes that she would need to perfect. Hermione was looking for another text, an ancient book on Troll magic that also referenced the Omniapurgalis…at least the spell component.

"I never fail to feel happy in this place,"

she thought to herself as she ran a finger lovingly along the antique leather bindings of the various books. "There is so much knowledge to be found here…I wish I could live long enough to read every book here."

She turned to look at her friends and smiled as they laboriously translated the text.

"I don't get it…is it an ounce of what kind of dried fern?" Ron asked, his brow furled in concentration.

"You prat! It says to take fern seeds," Harry grumbled.

"There are no such things as fern seeds…are there?"

"Powdered acorns…that's what it is…see the accent on the second glaviel?"

"How could I have missed that?" Ron answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Harry smacked him but chuckled all the same.

Hermione shook her head in mock disbelief and turned down another corridor of books. The entire area of the Restricted Section reeked of ancient knowledge…terrifying secrets were hidden here including the one she was desperately looking for.

Something caught her eye and she kneeled down to pick up a tattered book that looked as if it had been used as a Bludger.

"Troll Magic Primer,"

she read quietly and she could feel the goosebumps jump up along her arms. She began leafing through the pages studiously, even though she had every intention of signing the book out. She had a good relationship with Madame Pince and did not think it would pose much of a problem.

As she read, she suddenly had the distinct impression of being watched. Looking around quickly, she saw no one.

"I must be imagining things,"

she scolded herself.

She was about to head back to her friends when she heard the sudden shuffling of feet and the sound of a book dropping. Hurrying down the corridor and turning a corner, she suddenly found herself face to face with a pair of grey eyes she knew only too well.

He placed a finger on her lips as if to tell her not to speak. She didn't although she felt as if he could hear the noise of her heart pounding.

"I had to see you," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair in a way that made the previous goosebumps mere pretenders. She shivered from the contact.

"I saw…tonight…the letter," she confessed, placing a hand shyly on his chest, feeling the tumultuous beating of his heart.

"It is so hard…so little time left. Don't…"

He looked as if he was going to say something else but choked on the words. Instead, he pulled her into a gentle embrace and kissed her. Hermione clutched at him, fearing somehow that she was losing him even before she had the chance to win him back. She kissed him with everything she had, hoping it would be enough.

He pulled away and had a sad smile on his face.

"Don't what?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Don't hate me…after. If it comes to that…you will know what you have to do," he whispered.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You already know the answer to that. Do you love me?"

"Yes," Hermione said without reservation.

"Then you know what you will have to do."

He turned to go but Hermione grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. "Do you love me?" She asked.

Draco kissed her again. "You already know the answer to that question as well."

And then, he was gone and Hermione was left in the corridor, clutching her book and staring at the spot where he had been standing only moments before.

"He loves me,"

she thought.

Quickly recovering, she hurried over to her friends and methodically took notes on her book until it was almost ten o'clock. Harry and Ron had managed to translate the important sections of the Mermish text and carried that parchment with them as the three friends made their way to the Quidditch pitch.

"All this work has made me hungry. How about if Ron and I scrounge up some food from the kitchens and we will bring it out to you? Professor Snape can have a bite too, if he likes," Harry asked as his stomach growled in agreement.

"Snape probably only drinks blood," Ron grumbled.

"No, I have it on good authority that he prefers the fluid extracted from the spleens of unruly Weasleys," teased Harry.

"Well, now that I have lost my appetite, Harry, I suppose I will come with you and see what the house elves can put together for you," Ron said in an exasperated tone as Harry chuckled.

"We'll be on the pitch in about five minutes, Hermione," Harry said, handing her the parchment of translations. "Can I get you anything?"

"Pumpkin juice and a sticky bun would be nice."

"Consider it done," Ron bowed as both he and Harry rushed down the hallways.

Hermione smiled indulgently before turning to walk towards the door that led outside and towards the Quidditch pitch. Throwing on her warm cloak, she opened the door and stepped outside.

"It's a lovely night,"

she thought as she hurried towards the pitch.

As she got closer, she noticed a dark figure standing at one end, waving a wand. At first, she could not see what the figure was doing but, as she neared, she saw that a glowing green cube was weaving expertly in, out and around the three Quaffle hoops. The sound of her approaching footsteps caused the figure to turn to her.

"What are you doing, Professor Snape?" she asked as he continued the strange exercise.

"Alastor Moody always stressed the importance of constant vigilance. I am simply practicing wand technique. As Potions Master, I have little need for the sort of spell-casting that is so rampant in these parts. However, if I do not wave the wand every so often, the technique gets rusty and that is simply unacceptable, especially in these troubled times."

"Is it difficult?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Try it yourself and decide," he answered softly.

She realized that this was part of the practice and set her teeth in determination. She quickly conjured up a ball of her bluebell fire and, with an expert flick of her wrist, started moving it in the same complicated pattern as Professor Snape had done.

"Now, try changing the colour of the flames while continuing that pattern," he changed his glowing green cube into a flaming red one. Hermione, not losing a beat, changed her bluebell fire into silver and green.

"How appropriate, Miss Granger," Professor Snape chuckled. "Increase the speed as much as you can…concentrate on nothing else."

Hermione moved the ball of flames faster and faster. She could feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead but made no motion to wipe them away. The ball of flames moved more quickly, zipping in the predetermined pattern again and again and again until it was almost a solid line of silver and green flashing through the night sky.

"Excellent, Miss Granger," Professor Snape's voice snapped her back to the present and she trembled slightly from the effort.

"Was that all right?" She asked as the bluebell fire extinguished with a small popping sound.

"That was quite remarkable, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed at the compliment. It really was high praise from the overgrown bat, as Ron would say in his most polite way.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," he answered as he caused the cube to disappear.

"Thank you for helping me. I just want you to know that…well…I really do appreciate it."

He turned to her and smiled slightly…it gave his face an odd appearance, as if, unlike his wand technique, he had failed to practice periodically.

Ron and Harry soon appeared, bringing a pannier full of refreshments. Apparently, the house elves were not particularly busy and this was their idea of a small snack.

Hermione gulped down a glass of pumpkin juice quickly.

"What do I do next?" She asked Professor Snape who shocked Ron by eating a small cauldron cake and sipping at a glass of pumpkin juice himself.

"You will practice a cleansing spell. It is difficult but the benefit is that, if performed properly on Mister Potter, it will make him feel much better."

"How is that?" Harry asked, munching on a sandwich.

"Performing the spell without the potion, difficult enough as it is, can ease a person's insecurities…increase confidence. You could almost think of it as a banishment of negative energy," Professor Snape replied, wiping the crumbs of the cauldron cake from his slender fingers with a linen handkerchief.

"Maybe Percy got hit by that spell…it would explain his whole ego thing," Ron grumbled.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione moaned dramatically.

"Well, I'm ready to be banished," Harry said cheerfully as he wiped his mouth and took a last drink of the pumpkin juice.

"A few years ago, I would have been only too happy to oblige," Professor Snape smirked.

"What changed that?"

"You changed, Mister Potter."

Harry was about to reply but thought better of it. "Where do you want me to stand?"

"Over there by the hoops," Professor Snape pointed out. Harry walked over and stood, arms crossed over his chest in an unconsciously defensive stance.

"Do not be too alarmed, Mister Potter," the Potions Master commented. "The spell will not cause you pain."

Harry looked somewhat relieved.

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape began, as if he were teaching an everyday class. "The most important aspects of this spell are the technique, as you will need to start the spell with a complicated motion of the wrist, and the incantation. The technique involves a few steps. Pretend you are about to draw the number eight at the middle. Trace the upward loop with your wand and then sweep into the downward loop. Keep the wrist soft and flexible. Now, imagine that the figure eight is a keyhole. Spear the intersecting point with your wand and that is when you begin the incantation. In reality, you will be tracing this pattern on Mister Malfoy's chest, over his heart. For now, we will practice the motion in the air."

Hermione ran through the motions in her mind and then traced it out in the air with her wand, trying to visualize it exactly as Professor Snape had described it.

"That was very good. Loosen up your wrist. Here, let me assist you with that." Professor Snape walked up behind Hermione and held her wrist as she traced the pattern. "Concentrate on relaxing the wrist…make it as loose and supple as possible."

Hermione concentrated on where his fingers touched her wrists and forcibly relaxed the tense muscles, noticing that the pattern was getting more accurate.

"Now," he said, removing his hand and stepping away, "try it by yourself."

Hermione closed her eyes, thought for a moment, and traced the pattern effortlessly.

"Bloody brilliant, as usual," Ron said, in awe. Harry clapped his hands.

"That was very well done, Miss Granger," Professor Snape nodded. "Now, for the incantation. At this point, you will have your wand pointed at Mister Malfoy's heart. Purge your mind of all other thoughts except for this short incantation, which you will repeat again and again as the Omniapurgalis does its work. You will say ……………………

Hermione repeated the words a few times until she felt she had them memorized.

"I want to try casting the spell," she said firmly.

"All right," Professor Snape nodded. "Remember, first the figure-eight motion and then, pointing directly at Mister Potter, recite the incantation. You only need to say it a few times to see if it has worked."

Harry straightened up as Ron looked on warily. Professor Snape stepped back and steepled his fingers nervously.

Hermione cleared her mind of her doubts and insecurities and thought not about her friend, Harry, but of the other person for whom she was doing all this. She traced the figure-eight precisely, spearing the intersecting point flawlessly and pointing directly at Harry.

">>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>" she chanted in a monotone voice, over and over again. A warm golden glow emanated from her wand and quickly encircled Harry.

"Hey! It tickles!" Harry shouted, jumping up and down.

"You may stop now, Miss Granger."

The glow evaporated and Harry collapsed to the ground. Ron rushed over to him and helped him back to a seated position.

"You all right, Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment and smiled. "I know I will be able to defeat Voldemort," he said emphatically.

Professor Snape turned to Hermione, who had gone white with fear that she had not done the spell correctly.

"Excellent, Miss Granger," he said softly.