Regaining

Harry had decided to meet Hermione after her session with Snape. Other than the previous night, he had hardly seen her the whole week. Last night, she had obviously been avoiding something that was bothering her a great deal. So he was waiting for her on the main floor of the castle, but he wanted to make it look like a chance meeting. Ron was busy with an extra Beater practice on the Quidditch field, and Harry thought he might as well try to get Hermione to talk about whatever was bothering her. He had a feeling something was going on that was troubling her more than she already had been. At nearly 5:00, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the dungeon. He hurried away from the stairs so it would look like he was passing through the hallway.

Hermione was deep in thought as she reached the main floor. 'I should've asked to borrow some of the brain scans and research,' she was thinking. She was desperate to start work on mastering Supero. Her stomach ached whenever she thought of how difficult Transfiguration and Charms might be from now on. 'From now on... ' she thought, biting her lip. 'Oh gods, why did this have to happen to me?' She saw Harry walking by, seeming not to notice her. She waved at him, relieved to see a friendly face.

"Oh, hullo, Hermione!" said Harry cheerfully. "I'm just back from the Quidditch field. Ron's working on some new moves with that third year who's just joined the team."

"You're not practicing as well?" Hermione asked, a bit suspiciously.

"Nah, I wasn't in the mood," he said casually. "I was going to head up to the dormitory before dinner. Play a game of chess, laugh over old times." He smiled at her in that disarming way he had.

"Harry Potter, you didn't arrange to run into me, did you?" said Hermione, raising one eyebrow.

"Wow, Hermione, a fellow can't get by with anything around you."

Hermione laughed. "Honestly, Harry, you're so transparent sometimes. Why are you being so gallant? Trying to rescue a damsel in distress from Professor Snape? Or from herself?"

"Well, yeah, kind of," said Harry, turning serious. "I've been worried about you. I thought I'd be here if you needed to talk. You know, since you had your session and all just now. So... are you okay?"

"And is Mr. Weasley going to be coincidentally running into us as well?" she asked, deflecting his question.

"Hermione, you know that Ron would fight his way through an Acromantula colony for you, but I thought I might do better in the listening department."

Hermione hesitated. "Well, to answer your question, I guess I'm as okay as I can be. I've found out some things this week that put me in a spin, but I'm coping. Well, trying not to think too much anyway. I'm becoming skilled at denial." She tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a choked sob.

Harry put an arm around her and led her to the doors of Hogwarts. "Shall we take a walk? It's almost dark, but we could go through the gardens."

"Yeah, okay, that sounds fine," said Hermione, sniffling.

Once they were walking in the gardens, Hermione told Harry everything she had learned over the past days. She told him about Snape, the Tranquillity Parlor, the extent of the damage... everything. Harry listened without interrupting, although what he was hearing chilled him more than the wintry evening air. He called up a Warming Charm to envelop them so that they could stay in the gardens as long as Hermione wanted. Eventually, she stopped talking, and they ended up standing for a time in the center of the gardens.

"Harry, can you imagine what it would be like to be a Muggle again?" she said staring into the distance.

"Yeah, some of my worst nightmares have featured me back at the Dursleys forever," said Harry. "The dreams are awful, but not because I can't do magic. More because I'm stuck with the Dursleys. Though I can't imagine not being able to fly anymore. Is that what's bothering you the most, Hermione? The thought of having to go back to being a Muggle?"

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. She had managed not to cry throughout the conversation, but this admission brought the tears fast.

"But Snape says you still have magical energy in your brain, right? And you're able to do some magic?" .

Tears slid down her cheeks. She pulled a handkerchief from one of her pockets - she had decided to keep one with her at all times since she was so prone to crying lately. "It's there, but it's weak. I've always felt... like I wasn't as good as the students from wizarding families. They'll always have an edge over me because I didn't grow up in this culture. I've studied so hard and worked so hard because I wanted to show I was as good as them. Better, even. Now with this... I'm not going to be good enough anymore. I don't know where I'll fit in after Hogwarts." She covered her face. This was the darkest thought, the one she spent most of her waking hours pushing away. What would become of a magic user who couldn't use magic?

"Hermione, look at me," said Harry, turning her to him. "You are good enough - even with your weakened powers - to be the best witch at Hogwarts. You're smart, you're driven, and you don't ever give up. I have to agree with Snape, though I'm loathe to admit it, that we don't know how badly your powers have been damaged. I think you're dwelling on a fear that won't come true. You won't have to go back to the Muggle world, Hermione. You might not be able to do magic as easily as before, but you'll be part of our world. And a powerful, intelligent part of it, I might add. You remember how it is when Muggles get hurt, and I mean badly hurt, like in car crashes and such. It takes a long time for bodies to get better without magic, and I reckon that goes for complicated brain injuries like yours, too. I know you're afraid. I am, too. But I think you need to wait awhile before you torture yourself over the future. What is the saying... one day at a time? Can you try to focus on one day at a time and not on forever?"

"I can try," she replied, wiping her eyes. It was helpful to hear this. When she tried to convince herself of the same things he'd just said, it didn't work. It wasn't comforting coming from Professor Snape either, although she knew he was making an attempt at least. The Warming Charm was starting to wear off, and the chill of the night air crept through her robes. She was tired again and ready to stop thinking about all this for the night. "I'm starving. Let's go see if dinner's ready," she said wiping her eyes one last time and tucking away the handkerchief. "Thank you for listening, Harry. I really appreciate this."

"Hey, what are friends for? Listen to me, I'm full of clichés tonight," he said, as they walked towards the castle doors. "How about this one; it's always darkest before the dawn. No? Umm.. how about let your smile be your umbrella." Harry kept up with a string of the worst proverbs and sayings he could think of until he got a smile out of his friend. Once they were inside the castle, Hermione headed straight for the Great Hall. Harry had further business tonight. He was going to do something foolhardy, but he felt it needed to be done. He was going to try and have a word with Snape about Hermione. "Go ahead, Hermione," he said quickly, "I just remembered I needed to check on something. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," she said, "Don't be long - dinner smells delicious." Harry waited until Hermione had walked into the Great Hall, and then he wheeled around and headed in the direction of the dungeons.

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Severus was standing over a rack of bubbling beakers and vials. He had been working for weeks on analyzing the Leeching Elixir in whatever spare time he had between teaching, researching ways to help Hermione, and performing the tasks necessary to maintain the subterfuge of his renewed involvement as a spy. While he had isolated most of the elements of the Elixir, the remaining ingredients continued to be elusive. He knew that some of the components he had found were bound magically to other substances, explaining why eyebright, which brought clarity of memory, and horehound infusion, which cleared the mind, were present. Whatever they were bound with must have twisted their healing properties to instead attack the victim.

His design for the potion had been more straightforward. It had contained dragon's blood palm, Nundu venom, woody nightshade, several tricky incantations to activate these magical substances in specific ways, and enough concentrated laudanum to strip away whatever magic, or sanity, the person who drank it possessed. It was a crude recipe, but an effective one. When he had realized that it would work against Muggle-born and Pureblooded alike, he had been truly frightened. If Voldemort had gotten hold of it, the world Severus knew could have been destroyed in a reign of chaos and ruination unlike any seen before. Even though he scorned the world and most of the magic users in it, deep down he knew he would never want to be the cause of its demise.

He had become a Death Eater because he had foolishly believed Voldemort's propaganda against the Muggle-born and in the divine right for the intelligent and pure to rule the wizarding world. His intellect and pride had been used against him. In Voldemort's service, he was a valued academic, the Dark Lord's best Potions Brewer, specializing in defense against Auror magical tactics. He wasn't considered an odd duck with no friends and no dashing good looks as he had been at school. But over time, he had seen what swaggering, murdering scum his fellow Death Eaters were. Still he wanted to feel important, valued. The Leeching Elixir assignment had been a challenge. He hadn't thought of its consequences, really, until the results stared him in the face. The allure of the Dark Lord had faded quickly once he saw him as a sociopath, bent on decimating whomever stood in his way - even his followers. That was when he had made the decision to go over to Dumbledore.

He never regretted that decision, even when he writhed in pain under Crucio, his frequent punishment for not returning to the fold quickly enough when Voldemort rose again. He was regarded with growing suspicion by his fellow Death Eaters, but Voldemort still found him useful. However, the matters of secret plots and plans of the Dark Lord were not always shared with Severus anymore. If they had been, he would have risked everything to spare Hermione from the Elixir. He sighed and pointed his wand at a beaker in which a distilled measure of the Elixir was dripping through a tube from a bubbling vial. In this portion were traces of Nundu venom, dragon's blood palm, and something else. Something he had never seen before and seemed to be impervious to all methods of magical detection. He banged the table in frustration. So focused was he on the task before him, that he didn't see his least favorite student standing at the classroom door.

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Harry watched Snape working and wondered again whether this was such a great idea. He knew Snape despised him, and the feeling was quite mutual. He didn't want to confront the man, even though Hermione's revelations tonight made his skin crawl. He simply wanted to ask him about Hermione's state of mind. From what she had told him, he was treating her fairly and not in his usual unpleasant manner. Surely he wouldn't be so petty as to refuse to speak with him. Then again, it was Snape.

"Excuse me, Professor Snape, might I have a word with you," he called from the safety of the doorway.

Severus looked up with a start, and then his face twisted into the usual look of hatred he reserved for Harry Potter. "What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?" he hissed.

"I wanted to ask you about Hermione," he replied, trying to keep his voice free of any emotion, "She's shared with me a lot of what she's going through, and I'm worried about how she's doing."

Severus glared at Harry while thoughts raced through his mind. 'What does the boy know? What has she told him? What does he really want?'

After a moment, Severus said through clenched teeth, "I am very busy, Mr. Potter. Go away."

"Sir, I just want to ask you how Hermione's doing in your sessions," said Harry, exasperated. "She tells me she's doing fine, but I wanted to hear from you. How is she? I mean, she's not herself, is she? I don't expect her to be after what happened to her, but I'm concerned about her."

Hatred for this arrogant boy surged through Severus. 'Masking his meddling with concern for an injured friend,' he thought, 'How dare he?'

"She's doing well under the circumstances," Severus consented to say. "She faces more than you ever could imagine. If this had happened to the famous Harry Potter, the whole of the wizarding world would be swooping about demanding vengeance. You would have been delivered to the finest medical minds of our world. The humble Miss Granger gets to suffer in silence with me as her only help. What do you think you can possibly you do for her? She was likely targeted because of you - don't you think you've done enough?" His last words were chilling and full of venom.

"Blame me for the world's ills as usual," said Harry, fighting to keep his cool. "I didn't design this potion. I just want to help my friend." He had probably pushed a bit too far, and he braced himself for the wrath which would no doubt erupt.

Severus blanched. So she had told him. This was not welcome news. He wanted to get rid of Potter as quickly as possible, but the only way would be to give him an answer. "There is nothing you can do. There is little any of us can do," Severus said quietly. "Be assured, Mr. Potter, I am doing everything I can for her, in spite of what you might think."

"If there ever is something I can do for her, will you at least let me know?" Harry said, his arms folded in resignation and anger.

Severus met Harry's earnest gaze and nodded his head stonily. "Now, get out of my classroom, Mr. Potter. You'll be late for dinner."

Harry turned away in disgust. 'Poor Hermione,' he thought. 'To be saddled with that wretch. She's too forgiving by half.' He had promised Hermione that he wouldn't tell Ron or anyone else about Snape's involvement with the Elixir, and it was a promise he intended to keep. But the knowledge gave him even more reasons to hate the man.

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The weeks before Christmas holidays were busy for Hermione. Having more classes made her quite tired. She took naps every day, and she went to bed earlier every night due to sheer fatigue. But she was getting through each day, and that was what was most important to her. Her grades were not suffering, and she was able to do her assignments and homework with her previous ease. She simply wasn't going above and beyond as she used to do. This made her feel guilty, but not guilty enough to push herself into feeling more tired.

Her healing sessions with Professor Snape were going surprisingly well. They had fallen into a pattern of working for twenty minutes and then breaking for a ten or fifteen minutes before continuing. Snape had insisted on this, even when she was feeling energized and able to keep going. The first break had been an awkward affair; they had sat in uncomfortable silence for ten excruciatingly long minutes. Hermione had nothing to do but go over her notes and read from the medical research, while Severus had pushed student papers about on his desk, not really able to concentrate enough on grading them. The next time, Severus made them both chamomile tea and attempted to discuss the weather. When this failed miserably, he brought out the newest Ars Alchemica for Hermione to peruse. By the next session, Hermione was asking questions about certain articles in the journal, and as this was a safe topic, he freely answered. Soon he found that he enjoyed having intellectual discussions with her. She could certainly hold her own, and her opinions, while naive at times, were refreshing.

When the last week of school before the holiday break arrived, Hermione found herself being challenged more than she had been to date. On Monday, she walked down to the dungeons with none of the old nervousness. This time with Professor Snape had become, if not a highlight of the school day, then at least part of her normal routine. He had lent her a back issue of Ars Alchemica over the weekend, and she had found an intriguing article on Protection potions she wanted to ask him about. She was enjoying Potions class more than she ever had before. She had finally told Neville as kindly as possible that she wouldn't be able to help him in class anymore. She had even gone so far as to switch work tables. Without Neville's frantic pleas for help distracting her every moment, she was able to concentrate on the work she did. It was rather exciting actually, seeing the changes she could effect with ingredients and skill. Professor Snape had stopped watching her for missteps, but he was still watching her like a hawk. Every now and then she would catch him watching her with a raised eyebrow, which she took to mean "Are you feeling all right, Miss Granger?" Since she usually was feeling fine, she would nod her head slightly in response. She was glad he was concerned, but since it was Snape, it was a bit strange. Then again, her whole life had turned into a parade of strangeness, so what was one more bit of oddness?

She persisted with all her energy to overcome her brain damage. She had been practicing Supero every day, but she had not yet mastered it. Professor Snape had taught her some focusing methods that she was finding helpful, but not totally effective. Her Potions skills were virtually intact, but third year level Transfiguration and fourth year level Charms were confounding her, much to her dismay. She had gone to Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick about setting up private tutoring once school began again. She was scheduled to resume both of their classes after the break, and she didn't want to look a fool in either of them.

"Good afternoon, Professor," she called as she entered the classroom and put her book bag down beside her usual work table.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Granger?" asked Severus as walked over to her. He observed her closely, watchful for any signs of undue strain. He knew that the extreme difficulty she was experiencing with the two subjects she loved was taking a toll, mentally and physically. Her nose had bled slightly after performing a fairly simple Transfiguration the week before, and this had worried him greatly.

"I'm fine. I had a nice weekend, even though I passed on the Hogsmeade visit. Harry and Ron stayed with me. They went with me to practice flying, which I've never been too keen on. But since Apparating may be difficult now... " she trailed off, and her face fell a bit.

"Very practical, Miss Granger," Severus said quickly. "Did they force you to play Quidditch as well?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For the love of Merlin, of course they did. I actually got a Quaffle through a goal, though. They want to recruit me as an alternate Chaser now." She laughed at the absurdity of her playing Quidditch.

"Well, you never know, Miss Granger, you might enjoy the change. And we all know that Team Gryffindor needs all the help it can get."

"Professor Snape, I might have had fun flying around for an afternoon, but I barely enjoy watching Quidditch, let alone playing it. Did you ever play?" she said, in a challenging tone of voice.

"Oh yes," said Severus, and then changed the subject. "Time is wasting, Miss Granger. Show me how your Supero is coming along."

Although she very much wanted to hear more about Snape and Quidditch - the two images were meshing in her head about as well as oil meshed with water - she readied her wand. "Shall I try an Accio charm?" Accio was coming along better than many of the other charms.

"Certainly. Whatever you prefer," he replied.

"All right then," she said. She centered herself and began breathing deeply. In her mind, she saw the large book on Snape's desk fly through the air at her command. She pointed her wand at herself and called out "Supero!" She knew that eventually she should be able to just whisper the word or say it in her head, but she wasn't ready for that yet. She opened her eyes, pointed her wand at the book, and commanded "Accio book." The book jerked into the air and then smoothly swished over to her. Then it clumsily skidded to a landing on the table in front of her. She looked up with a smile.

"Still lacking in control, but better, Miss Granger," Severus said coolly, "Supero is working much better for you, I'm glad to see. You've been practicing."

"I've had to. My broom wouldn't lift into the air yesterday until I'd done it five times. But I was able to fly finally."

"That's good to hear. You're making steady progress. Do you think you're ready for some more Transfiguration today?"

"Not really," she said, gritting her teeth, "but I'll do it anyway." Transfiguration hurt, plain and simple. The ache in her head would flare and wouldn't go away until she'd taken her next dosage of pain drops. She hadn't mentioned it yet because the ache wasn't unbearable. It was just uncomfortable. She could handle it.

Severus regarded her for a moment. He admired her tenacity, but he had a feeling she was hiding something from him. He hoped he wasn't pushing her too hard. Then again he didn't want to coddle her or enable her to feel she shouldn't, or couldn't, do these things. "Miss Granger, you will tell me if you feel discomfort, won't you? It's one thing to be courageous, but it's quite another to be foolishly brave. I only emphasize this because Gryffindors tend to lean towards the latter."

"I'll tell you," Hermione lied, annoyed by the Gryffindor remark.

"Very well. There is one item left on Professor McGonagall's list of important third year Transfiguration spells." He conjured a tea kettle. "Please transform this kettle into a turtle."

Hermione checked in her Transfiguration book for the specific incantation. Her recall was still poor when dealing with abstract magic. She readied herself, visualized with Supero, and then performed the Transfiguration. When she pointed her wand at the kettle, she felt a sharp pain twinge deep inside her brain. She gasped, but then bit her lip to keep from crying out. Luckily, it looked like Professor Snape thought she had been gasping at the results of the Transfiguration. The turtle had turned out to be mostly kettle.

"Miss Granger, don't be so disappointed," he said shortly, "This was a... reasonable effort. Transfiguration remains your greatest challenge. Let's move on to some charms. We'll return to this after your break."

"No," Hermione said, "I'm trying this one again." Her head was hurting, but it wasn't going to keep her from doing this stupid third year spell that even Neville had gotten right eventually. She would just need to focus on the Supero a bit harder. "Would you please change the turtle back to a kettle for me?"

Severus did as she asked, although he had misgivings. She repeated the steps, and this time when she aimed her wand at the kettle, it turned into a turtle. She would have smiled broadly if the pain in her head hadn't been suddenly blinding. She did manage to look up at Professor Snape with a twisted grin. "There, you see? It just took a bit more effort," she managed to say. The pain was lessening a bit, but she felt dizzy and sick. She sat down on her stool as the world went a bit fuzzy around the edges.

Severus was startled. He could tell that the spell had caused quite a bit of pain for all Hermione's efforts to pretend it hadn't. What was most alarming was the blood trickling out of her left nostril in a steady flow. She hadn't seemed to notice yet. "Miss Granger, your nose is bleeding again. And I see now that you have had some fibbing practice along with your flying." He went over to his desk and took out a vial of Standard Nose Bleed Remedy from the first aid kit.

She held her handkerchief firmly to her nose. It was bleeding freely now. "The pain isn't that bad. Well, it hasn't been, really, but it was just now. Usually it just aches for a bit. I'm a little nauseous, but other than that, I'm okay." He handed her the vial, and she drank it. The blood stopped flowing. "But look, the turtle looks like a turtle, and that's all that really matters," she said a bit too brightly.

"No, Miss Granger," Severus said in that quiet yet deadly tone of his, "that's not all that matters. While we can expect some pain with any rehabilitation, severe pain can mean you are damaging your body further. You must be honest with me about your symptoms. If nothing else, I can adjust your pain drops to better address the specific pain. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir, you do," she said. "I... I just wanted to get past the pain and keep recovering without anymore fuss."

"That is called denial, Miss Granger. It's perfectly normal, but in this case it could lead to serious consequences." Severus sighed. "I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing in your place. We overachievers tend to do foolish things at times. Please keep me informed in the future."

"I will, Sir," Hermione said softly. Then she pointed towards the far end of the table. "Sir, the turtle's going to crawl off the table." She should have felt triumphant over succeeding with the spell, but she felt depressed over having to deal with the reality of the pain again. Now that Snape knew how she was actually feeling, she would probably have to go at an even slower pace than she had been. 'Reality is overrated,' she thought miserably.