Survivors

CHAPTER 6

Halloween

"What are you going to be for Halloween?" Hermione placed one hand on Remus's head in her lap and absent-mindedly stroked the mousy brown strands. They were lounging on the sofa in his private quarters.

Remus lowered the book he had been reading and laid it face-down on his chest. "I don't know, actually. Everything I come up with seems in such terribly poor taste."

"What have you considered?"

"Well, the obvious one--"

"Yes, that one might not be advisable," Hermione agreed. Visions of students (and teachers) running screaming from the Great Hall floated before Hermione's inner eye.

"Quite. And then I thought maybe dressing up as Dumbledore...as a sort of tribute, you understand."

"Mmm. I can see how that might be considered a bit provocative." Snape for one would go bonkers, and the rest of the staff might not take it in the right vein, either.

Remus sighed. "Which leaves us with the fluffy pink bunny."

Hermione laughed. "That, I'd like to see!"

"Yes," Remus chuckled, "I'm sure you would, but the tradition is to impersonate something that will scare away the Dark spirits."

"Trust me, the pink bunny is very scary."

Remus smiled to himself. "How about you? What are you going to dress up as?"

"I was thinking perhaps an historical figure. Beneficia the Bold, for instance. Or one of the Founders, Helga Hufflepuff or Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Merlin forbid!" Remus cried in mock horror. "You're a Gryffindor! At least you must dress up as Godric!"

"Oh, thanks a lot! You think I'd look better as a man?"

"That was the furthest thought from my mind. In fact, I don't think your dressing up as a man would diminish your femininity in the least. But as Head of Gryffindor House, what do you expect me to say?"

"I know, why don't you be Godric Gryffindor!"

"Hmm. I'm not sure I have the presence to carry that off. He was a quite impressive figure of a man, you know."

"As are you," Hermione stated loyally.

"Thank you," Remus said with a wry little smile. "I will consider it."

xOxOxOx

"I hate pumpkins," Hermione grumped as she took her place at the Head Table for dinner. "If I never have to see another pumpkin it won't be too soon."

"I'm sure you did a lovely job, dear," Professor Flitwick commented before Summoning the gravy boat from where it stood out of his reach near the edge of the table.

"Do you know how many pumpkins I Transfigured into Jack-O-Lanterns this afternoon?" Hermione continued to nobody in particular, helping herself to a slice of turkey breast. "Five hundred."

Professor Flitwick spluttered, "Five-- Five hundred?" and dropped the ladle into the gravy boat with a clatter.

Even Remus, on Hermione's other side, looked slightly alarmed.

"But Hermione, we only needed one hundred for the decorations," Professor McGonagall interjected. She laid down her cutlery and looked over at Hermione with a worried expression.

"What--? But I asked Dobby which pumpkins were for the party tonight, and he showed me that entire storeroom full..."

"A goodly number of them were meant to be turned into pumpkin juice, pumpkin pies--" Minerva told her primly.

"Argh, no!" Hermione threw her head back against the back of her chair and thumped it a couple of times. An entire afternoon wasted! She'd thought they were going a little over the top on the Jack-O-Lanterns, but as she'd never helped with the decorations before, she hadn't wanted to say anything.

"Well, no matter," Minerva sighed. "I'm sure the house-elves can still turn the four hundred extra Jack-O-Lanterns into palatable refreshments." She picked up her knife and fork again and returned to her meal.

"Never mind, Hermione," Remus said, patting her arm consolingly. "Oh, good evening, Severus." He turned slightly in his chair to greet the Potions master, who descended on his seat with a bad-tempered look in his eye.

"Ngrmph," Snape grunted in return.

Why in the name of all that is magical can they not simply let a man consume his meal in peace! Bad enough that I have to endure an entire evening's worth of inane chatter at that bloody Halloween party later on, the least they can do is give me five minutes' peace beforehand!

"What do pumpkins and Jack-O-Lanterns have to do with Halloween, anyway?" Angelina chimed in to the conversation. She had up until now been silent, as she had been busy cramming as much food as possible into her mouth in the shortest possible time. Hermione had been reminded of Ron, with a pang of nostalgia.

"I was just explaining that to my classes today," Hermione said happily and leaned back in her chair.

Oh Merlin! Please don't let her launch into a long-winded lecture. I don't think my digestion could stand it.

"Some people think that they're a remnant of some Dark ritual involving human skulls. In fact, they're meant to light the way for souls lost in Limbo. They were originally carved out of turnips, but when the Irish went to America in the nineteenth century, they found that pumpkins were much more plentiful and easier to cut. So it's actually a relatively recent custom," she finished up, popping a piece of broccoli almondine into her mouth.

"Fascinating," commented Flitwick.

"Yes, it was," came a dark, sarcastic voice from the far end of the table. "Perhaps we should all regurgitate our lessons for general entertainment of an evening."

"Oh dear," squeaked Professor Flitwick, hurriedly concentrating on his turkey.

"Aw, Severus," Remus groaned.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then decided to try something. She leaned forward so that she could see Snape. He was glaring at the three Gryffindors.

"Severus," she began as civilly and sincerely as she could, "I would actually be interested to know what you have been teaching the students. Anything of interest?"

There was dead silence at the Head table for the space of three heartbeats.

Then Snape laid his fork and knife ever so gently down on his plate, taking care to set them so that they were exactly parallel to each other. He placed both palms against the edge of the table and slowly pushed his chair back.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," twittered Flitwick, shaking his head miserably at his plate.

"Now Severus, come on," Remus cajoled.

"I told you to leave him alone," Angelina muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

Hermione sat absolutely still, heart in her throat, ears burning. What was he going to do? He wouldn't actually try anything violent, would he? Not surrounded by a dozen witnesses in the form of the other teachers, not to mention the couple of hundred students currently hell-bent on devouring their dinner and ignoring their professors. Would he?

Snape stood, drew himself to his full and not inconsiderable height, covered the distance to Hermione's chair in three strides, gripped the back of her chair and bent over so that his mouth was right next to her ear.

"If you ever try a stunt like that again, Miss Granger," he whispered, his breath moving the loose strands of hair against her cheek, "you will wish that you had joined your friend Potter in Godric's Hollow." He lingered for one heartbeat longer, and Hermione could smell his anger, red and feral. A shiver went down her back. She swallowed over the lump in her throat.

Then, abruptly, Snape straightened up again, turned on his heel, and stalked out.

There was a collective exhaling of breath.

"Sheesh, talk about touchy," Angelina said.

"Hermione, you should really know by now better than to bait him," Minerva scolded, although there was a slight shakiness to her voice.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked, leaning toward Hermione with a concerned frown.

Hermione nodded slowly. "I-- I was trying to be nice," she said hollowly.

"You mean you really meant that?" Remus said, startled.

Hermione nodded again. "I thought-- I thought that was just his way of being included... to toss off comments like he does. I thought if someone really showed an interest in his opinion that he'd respond."

Angelina snorted. "Yeah, he responded, all right." Then she shook her head sympathetically. "I don't know, Hermione, house-elves are one thing, but this...?"

"House-elves?" Remus looked at Hermione curiously.

Hermione shook her head. "Never mind." She pushed her own chair firmly away from the table.

"Where are you going?" Remus asked.

"I have to apologize, straighten this out."

Angelina groaned. "Have you learned nothing? The man is a total git!"

"Angelina, really!" Minerva admonished her.

"Sorry," she muttered grudgingly, then appealed to Hermione, "I'm just saying, it won't do any good. You're only going to dig yourself in deeper."

"I'll go with you," Remus said, moving to stand up himself.

"No," Hermione said quickly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you mean well, Remus, but I have the feeling that that would only infuriate him more: A party of Gryffindors showing up on his doorstep."

"You're probably right," Remus acknowledged, "but he'll be none too happy to see you on your own, either. And I'm used to bearing the brunt of his ill humour."

"Then I think it's time someone put an end to it," Hermione said firmly and squared her shoulders.

The other professors watched as the young witch walked confidently out the staff door.

"Remus, couldn't you have talked some sense into her?" Minerva fussed. "She's in danger of getting her head bitten off, or worse."

Remus shrugged helplessly. "I tried, you saw what happened. I'm afraid I've never been very good at making my friends do what's good for them."

Once outside the Great Hall, Hermione slowed her steps and began thinking strategy. It would be a lot easier to think if the nerve in her cheek wasn't still jangling from where his breath had stirred her hair against it. She brushed at the spot with irritation.

What could she possibly say, or do, to salvage the situation now? She had really meant what she had said to Snape. Well, not that she was actually interested in hearing about his lessons, per se, but that she was interested in hearing what he had to say, that she valued his opinion, or perhaps just his humanity. The fact that he had taken it completely wrong--or not, she now considered; perhaps his response was an unqualified rejection of her overture toward civility--made her even more determined to show him kindness. For it was her belief that making such unsolicited, derogatory comments was Professor Snape's way of making contact with others, much as a young child would hit another child when what he actually wanted was to play. She reckoned that what he needed was someone to show him that there was another way to play, a kind way. And so she had taken a cue from Professor Dumbledore, the only human being whom she had ever seen being kind to Severus Snape. And that kindness had been answered, if not exactly in kind, then at least in a lessening of aggressive and sarcastic tendencies.

But clearly, it was going to be a lot harder than offering to take turns on the playground slide to prove that she was sincere. Why was she even bothering? Why not take Angelina's tack of ignoring, or Remus's of weary resignation, or just stop at Minerva's mild annoyance peppered from time to time with righteous indignation? Because it was an injustice, she told herself self-righteously.

She had also meant what she had said to Angelina about Snape being a hero. And one simply did not bait, tease, insult, or deride heroes. Granted, he didn't make it any easier. But that was what this little campaign was all about. Minerva had already mentioned that Dumbledore had filled a special role in Snape's life, and that, with Dumbledore's death, that role was now empty. Hermione considered how much worse it must in fact be for Snape that he had been the one to cause said role-filler's demise, no matter how justified (or constrained, magically or otherwise) he had been. Hermione wondered, also, how long Snape had been 'visiting' Lenore, and whether she was just a means of relieving a physical need, or whether she was something of a role-filler herself. Hermione had heard that men often sought out prostitutes not just (or even at all) for physical stimulation, but rather for the emotional support, for the feeling that someone cared. For someone to talk to. It made Hermione indescribably sad to know that Snape was driven to such an avenue. Either way.

Angelina's crack about S.P.E.W. was not without its truth quotient. Hermione was virtually in the throes of inaugurating a new club: The Society for Befriending the Snarky Potions Master. Current membership: one. She'd come up with a snazzy acronym later.

Hermione retraced her steps of the morning of the Hogsmeade weekend; she still didn't know exactly where Snape's private quarters were, but she reckoned she must have been close that last time, given how suddenly he had appeared, apparently out of thin air, so she went the same way. This time, however, she wasn't so lucky. The corridor where the Potions classroom was, appeared to be deserted, and there were no other obvious entrances or egresses. The door must be hidden or masked somehow. Well knowing that she was probably about to make a complete and utter fool of herself, Hermione knocked loudly on the classroom door.

"Professor Snape?" she called. She waited a moment, then knocked again. "Severus?" She tried the door, but it was, predictably, locked. She crossed her arms and waited for a moment, thinking, then called again to the walls, "Severus?" Then she started knocking on the walls along the corridor, lifting tapestries, even pushing on the bust of Terence the Tricky, who blew her a raspberry in answer. "Professor Snape, I'd like to talk to you!" she called out in as friendly a manner as possible.

In his quarters, Snape was busy ignoring the attempts to contact him out in the hall. He had already removed his robes and vest and unbuttoned his shirt in preparation for changing into his evening wardrobe. "Go away," he growled through gritted teeth, the sound issuing from deep in his throat. She obviously couldn't hear him, but it gave him satisfaction to give voice to his thought nonetheless.

If you think I'm going to allow you to give me a dose of your so-called righteous indignation, like that pathetic little display the other day, you'd better have a Plan B. Because you can just stay out there and bang on the walls all night for all that I'm going to respond.

Outside, Hermione continued to move around in the corridor, occasionally calling out to him. Snape felt himself becoming increasingly irritated. He whipped through his wardrobe blindly, unable to focus on selecting a set of robes for the party. Fancy dress, of course, was beneath him, but he would deign to change into something formal. Finally, he made himself stop, stand still, and close his eyes.

Blank. Nothing. Black. Empty. I hear the sound. I feel nothing. Someone is out in the hall. I register that fact. It does not concern me.

It was as if a heavy, black curtain were lowering itself in his mind, effectively blocking the feedback path between sensory input and emotional response. It was a technique that Snape was exceedingly familiar with. Overly familiar. He had perfected over the years to such a degree that he needed little conscious effort to conjure it. In fact, it was now very much like a muscle memory. Neural memory. Neural protection mechanism. And there were others.

Out in the hall, Hermione leaned against a pillar and waited. He had to come out sometime. Unless there was another exit from his quarters? In which case he might be happily (or at least unaccosted, which might work out to the same thing) on his way to the Halloween festivities while she hung out here becoming disgruntled. She fretted over that for a moment, then decided it unlikely. After a quarter of an hour or so, some Slytherin students started passing down the corridor on their way to their common room to get ready for the party. They gave her odd looks, but she simply smiled pleasantly at them and nodded, as if she always hung out in empty dungeon passageways. She could, of course, ask one of them to assist her, but she'd be damned if she'd ask a student to point out where Severus Snape's private quarters were, especially a Slytherin student. Careful, Hermione, she told herself. Dangerous waters being treaded. Remember encouraging inter-House cooperation and unity?

The minutes ticked by, and Hermione knew she was going to be cutting it close. Surely Snape must come out soon! He always covered his duties, and chaperoning this party was one of his duties. As it was one of hers, she reminded herself. She started to get fidgety and unbuttoned her robe. She wouldn't have time to talk to Snape, get back up to her room, change into her costume and get back down to the Great Hall before it was time for the party to start. She vaguely wondered what would happen if she didn't show up at all. Detention hardly seemed a viable possibility. But then she'd miss Remus the Rabbit. Not that she really expected him to come dressed as a fluffy pink bunny, but it would have been a good inside joke for the two of them.

Now the students were starting to pass by in the other direction. A vampire, a banshee, a pair of outsized red caps, a chimaera (excellent Transfiguration work on the mane, Hermione thought to herself), and a pair of Dementors skipped past her towards the stairs. By now, Hermione was resigned to the fact that she would miss at least the beginning of the party and most likely receive some sort of reprimand from the Headmistress, but she stubbornly stuck it out. He wasn't going to get out of it that easily. Get out of it? You're supposed to be apologizing, making friendly overtures, not administering some sort of punishment! she admonished herself.

Finally, a tall, black-clad figure appeared seemingly out of thin air. How does he do that? Hermione wondered in a mix of irritation and admiration. He had changed out of his regular teaching attire into a high-collared affair with serpentine-symbol embroidery and silver buttons. It was still basic black, but it looked quite spiffy. For some inexplicable reason, her cheek started tingling again where she had felt his breath earlier. She rubbed the spot to override the sensation.

"Severus," Hermione said, to get his attention, as it appeared that he was going to walk right past her.

Bloody Gryffindor persistence. Look at her, she's been skulking around here waiting to pounce on me rather than getting ready or doing anything useful. If there were any justice at all in the world, she would receive a thorough tongue-lashing from Minerva for being tardy and unprepared. Ergo, she will get off scot-free.

He did not glance at her nor slow his pace, but did acknowledge her with a curt "Professor Granger."

"Severus-- Professor Snape," she persisted, now trying to keep pace with him. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier. At dinner."

"It appears that you are doing so," he replied coldly. He had now reached the stairs and started his ascent.

Hermione followed, unable to take the steps two at a time as he did. "Yes, well, I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression. I wasn't trying to be funny, or insulting, or anything like that. I--" Somehow, she didn't think he'd like her to say that she was just trying to be nice. "I was-- I thought maybe everyone would like to hear what you've been doing in Potions. I remember there used to be some pretty funny incidents..." Seamus repeatedly blowing his eyebrows off... Ron bollixing the Wit-Sharpening Potion and ending up babbling like an idiot for an entire weekend (Hermione still wondered whether the effects of that had ever entirely worn off)... Neville achieving meltdown after meltdown... These and many other images rose quickly to the front of her mind, and she did smile to herself even as she started to get winded again due to the pace at which Snape was tackling the stairs.

"Yes, the destruction of equipment, near-poisonings, and bodily injuries are all highly amusing," Snape remarked drily, as if he could read Hermione's thoughts, "but I prefer to keep the merriment at mealtimes to a minimum. Perhaps you could do the rest of us the same courtesy in future."

They had reached the Entrance Hall, which was now crowded with beasts, monsters, characters, and creatures of every description, awaiting the opening of the doors to the Great Hall. Snape cut through the crowd, which parted effortlessly at his approach. Hermione, meanwhile, nearly had to elbow aside a short, female version of Nearly Headless Nick in order to keep up. They passed through a smaller door to the left of the main entrance to the Great Hall which opened onto a corridor leading to the staff entrance near the Head Table.

When they were nearly at the end of the corridor, Snape stopped suddenly and rounded on Hermione, causing her to nearly bump into him. He glared at her. "Are you going to dog my steps for the rest of the evening?"

"Oh-- no-- I just-- I wanted to make sure you weren't still angry at me, about before."

"You wish me to forgive you?" Snape raised one eyebrow.

Hermione could have sworn he actually looked amused.

"Well, I suppose," she said uncertainly, "although I didn't really do anything wrong; I was just trying to make conversation."

"I forgive you for trying to make conversation," he said shortly. "Do not let it happen again."

He turned around, opened the door to the Great Hall, and went in, leaving Hermione alone in the corridor. She shook her head, trying to clear it. What had just happened here? Her puzzling was interrupted, however, by Angelina jogging up the corridor toward her.

"Hey, Hermione! What's up?" Angelina was covered from head to foot in gold and had a pair of wings whirring on either side of her head.

"Huh?" Hermione frowned in Angelina's direction.

"What're you doing hanging out here? Did McGonagall lock us out or something for being late? I would've been here sooner, but these damn wings kept falling off!" She pressed firmly against her head with her fingers, where one of the wings was presumably anchored.

"Oh, no, I don't know, Professor Snape just..." Hermione gestured feebly toward the door leading into the Great Hall.

"Snape?" Angelina said suspiciously. She looked Hermione carefully over from head to foot, taking in the flyaway hair, unbuttoned robe, accelerated respiration, flushed cheeks, and slightly dazed look. "Hermione, did he just...do something to you?"

"Do something? What do you mean?"

"Hermione, you're freaking me out a little bit. Do you remember what's happened between when you left dinner and now?"

"Yes, of course I do!" she snapped, irritated.

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"Well what happened then?"

"Nothing! I went down to talk to Snape, but he wouldn't let me in, or else he didn't hear me, I don't know, and so I waited for him, and then when he came out I followed him upstairs and tried to explain to him about what I said at dinner, but he wouldn't really listen to me, and then suddenly I was apologizing to him for trying to make conversation and I'm not sure, but I think he was laughing at me."

"But he didn't...accost you?"

"No!"

"Curse you?"

"No!"

"Snog you until you couldn't see straight?" This last one with a grin.

"No! Angelina!" Where did the girl come up with such ideas? "I'm fine! Just annoyed and late and what are we doing standing out here discussing Professor Snape anyway? Let's go in." She stomped over to the door, which was opened just at that moment by a man whose head was covered in feathers and sported a beak-like nose. His torso was likewise feathered, and on his back were folded two large wings. His trousers appeared to be made of yellow fur, and a long tufted tail was visible waving behind him.

"There you are!" the man cried. "Severus said you were out here. What are you waiting for? We're ready to start!" He ushered Angelina and Hermione in, giving Hermione a slightly concerned look.

"Remus, is that you?" Hermione asked, trying to suppress a laugh. "What are you-- Oh! A griffin!"

"It didn't come off too well, did it?" he admitted sheepishly. "I worked so long on the feathers and the beak, I didn't really have time left to do the lion part properly."

"No, it's great!" Hermione assured him.

"I didn't think I could pull off Godric, so I tried the next best thing. But what are you supposed to be?" he asked her, taking in her rumpled appearance.

"Oh! I didn't have time to change. I'm..." She tore off her outer robes, revealing her jumper and jeans underneath. "A Muggle!" she announced with a huge grin.

"Very...creative," Remus said politely.

"I know," she sighed, "I have a much better costume upstairs-- Beneficia the Bold-- but Professor Snape kept me so long I didn't have time to go change."

"So did it go all right, then?" he asked.

Hermione told Remus what had happened. In the meantime, Minerva had opened the main doors, greeted the students, and gotten the Hallowe'en party started.

"I didn't think it would do any good," Remus commiserated once Hermione had finished.

"I'm not sure," she mused. "I think he was amused by the end."

"As long as you're satisfied."

"I suppose it's as much as I can expect."

"In that case, I don't suppose I can interest you in a cup of cider?"

xOxOxOx

Hermione spent most of the rest of the evening conversing with Remus, Angelina, Hagrid (who purported to be dressed up like a giant...Hermione for one couldn't see a lick of difference to his normal garb), and Professor Smith, the Muggle Studies teacher, who normally wore a Muggle suit to teach, but tonight had changed into wizard attire. Minerva had a word with Hermione about being late, but didn't make a big deal about it. Hermione also ventured out onto the dance floor a couple of times with Remus and Hagrid, but as none of them were really ones for dancing, they left it at that.

She caught glimpses of Snape throughout the evening. He was usually standing alone near at the edge of the room, arms crossed over his chest, glaring out at the students. Hermione noticed that many of the teachers made attempts at conversation with him, but one after another they gave up and left him alone again. Hermione couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Here he was, forced to attend a party that he obviously wasn't enjoying, which she could certainly sympathize with. but she didn't know how to help him enjoy it. Quite probably, he didn't want to enjoy it. She was wary about approaching him herself, especially as she wasn't sure whether he had maneuvered her into promising not to talk to him again. She thought not, but on the other hand she also thought he had made it clear that he didn't want her to talk to him. Oh, why did he have to be so obtuse and complicated! Well, if he refused to accept talking, then at least she could show him that she didn't find his company unbearable. Excusing herself from Professor Smith, she made her way over to the corner where Snape was standing, and stood next to him. He glanced at her warily, but as she did not make any attempt to engage him in conversation, he made no remark, rather attempting to steadfastly ignore her.

Great galloping Gytrashes! She's turning into a leech! And a Muggle one at that. It seems she will not take advice on her attire. Interesting, however: She's not saying anything. Perhaps I did manage to get through to her earlier. But then why is she standing there!

He shifted somewhat uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

How much longer does this infernal gathering go on? Surely it is nearly midnight. Am I to be forced to endure her company for the remainder of the evening?I am going to move away now, and if she follows me, so help me I shall be forced to hex her!

Snape unfolded his arms and started to walk away.

Hermione reacted quickly. "Severus?"

Groan.

"I thought I made it clear that you were to stop following me!"

Do not engage in conversation, Hermione thought to herself. "Would you like to dance?" She immediately felt her face get hot. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now you're bugging him!

An eyebrow went up. "I do not dance."

Smile. "All right."

Giving Hermione an inscrutable look, Snape turned and walked away.

What in the Nine Hells was that about? I believe I actually preferred her inane babbling. Dance, indeed!

Hermione rolled her eyes and made her way back to Remus and Hagrid, who were sitting near an open door, getting some fresh air.

"I can't believe I just asked Professor Snape to dance," she grouched, pulling up a chair.

"You what?" Remus chuckled. "Did he say yes?"

Hermione shot him a dirty look. "What do you think."

He grinned. "Apparently not."

"I didn't mean to," she explained helplessly, "I was just standing next to him, and he started to leave, so I had to think of something."

"Why?"

"So he'd know I didn't find his company unbearable. That it didn't matter if he didn't have anything interesting to say. I felt sorry for him, everyone else tried to talk to him but then left when he didn't warm up."

"Did it ever occur to you that he wanted to be left alone?" Remus asked quietly.

"I know," Hermione said with a pout, "but I just don't think he's happy."

"No, I don't suppose he is," Remus agreed.

"But why not? I mean, Voldemort's gone! The war's over, it's been over for years! And it's not like he's got anyone to mourn: He didn't lose anyone--" Hermione stopped herself, thinking suddenly of Dumbledore.

"Hermione," Remus said gently, "everyone lost something. Some more than others, yes, but Severus suffered losses that perhaps are not so easily seen."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes, certainly, but also on the inside."

"He killed Dumbledore!" Hagrid interjected, unable to hold back any longer. He had been following the conversation with ever-increasing displeasure. "I don' see why you two are feelin' sorry fer 'im. He deserves whatever he's sufferin', an' more!"

"I can understand your feelings, Hagrid," Remus replied, "but we must remember that Severus was completely exonerated by the Wizengamot. Although I cannot help but think that he himself might have preferred to be sent to Azkaban, rather than to have had to return to his daily life."

"Wha'--?"

"Sometimes the punishments we give ourselves are much more brutal than those which others can apply," Remus said, hoping that the half-giant would understand.

Hagrid did not appear pleased by this explanation, but did not pursue the subject.

Remus then turned to Hermione and, taking her hands in his, looked into her deep brown eyes with his pale grey ones. "My dear, you have a heart of gold. I know you are only trying to help him. But I think you should leave him alone. He has, apparently, made a sort of peace with himself that allows him to function. Let us leave it at that."

Hermione also was not pleased by this, but likewise did not pursue it. At least not with Remus. In her head, however, she was already starting to knit hats.