Chapter 3 – Do I or Don't I?
Thoughts on Professor Snape kept her company over the next several days. Days in which Harry still wasn't speaking to her and Ron bounced between being caught up in Harry's righteous anger and feeling sympathy for Hermione's estrangement from their little circle. Ron was doing what Ron did best. He was supporting Harry, giving him an ear and solid presence that Harry needed. Yet in his own way Ron was doing his best to support her as well, acting as a buffer between her and Harry until they could get their friendship back on its usual even keel.
Only that remaining connection to Ron saved Hermione from sinking into the crying mess she'd become her third year when both Harry and Ron had excluded her from their friendship. Now, like then, she'd searched for something to occupy her mind with. Then she'd had extra classes and researching Buckbeak's defense for Hagrid. Now she had Snape stalking.
Of course, the more she watched Professor Snape the more she wondered if her estrangement from Harry was worth it. She could understand Harry and Ron's dislike of the professor. He was an easy man to see in shades of absolute black and white, a tendency of view that the professor seemed to encourage.
Hermione wasn't stupid. With the knowledge that she possessed about Professor Snape's true loyalties and 'extracurricular' activities, it was no great leap in logic to come to the conclusion that much of Professor Snape's behavior was a carefully crafted and maintained smoke screen. He was like a Muggle magician keeping everyone focused on his outward appearance and less than likeable personality while totally distracting the casual observer from noticing the very dangerous intelligence that gleamed behind his eyes.
She liked to think of herself as something other than a casual observer because she was starting to catch glimpses of the man behind the smoke, and everything she'd seen increased her conviction that Professor Snape was in need of someone to stand in his corner.
And yet . . . and yet, he wasn't a house-elf. He wasn't a half-Kneazle in need of a home. He was a grown man and a powerful wizard and from her observations she suspected that the persona of 'Evil Potions master' wasn't all that far from the truth of who and what Severus Snape really was.
Harry's assertion that Snape didn't deserve to be defended was wrong. She knew it with a deep certainly. Hermione's doubts, however, were centered on another question: was Professor Snape her responsibility? He was worth being protected but was he worth the risk of losing her two best friends? She wasn't the isolated outsider that she'd been as a Muggle-born first year. She had other friends and acquaintances in her own House and in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff now. But Harry and Ron were special. Were her convictions strong enough to keep her when Harry turned away from her? And Ron, right now he was doing his best to still stay by her, but she knew Ron. Eventually Ron would drift away and she'd be alone.
Even if she decided to make her stand, what could she do? Professor Snape wouldn't appreciate buttons or Snape Club dues. There would be no newsletters or impassioned speeches in the Great Hall about how Professor Snape was really just some misunderstood, Heathcliff-type hero who was risking his life to help the Order overthrow the evil plans of the Dark Lord.
Hermione looked up at the High Table. Professor Snape was once again picking at his food in a moody silence, a habit that Hermione had become very familiar with. In the time she'd been watching him, she'd never once seen him actually eat an entire meal. When she saw him start to tense up, she redirected her gaze back down to the Gryffindor Table. Ron and Harry had started sitting several seats down from her with Dean and Seamus. They were currently laughing and joking about something. Seamus seemed to be trying to flip peas into Ron's pumpkin juice whenever Ron looked away. They were having a good time.
Hermione sighed. She couldn't say she was having a good time.
"I would rethink that decision, Longbottom."
At that quietly issued command, Hermione froze momentarily, her hand partway raised to add the fluxweed seeds to her potion. A second later she continued the motion, dropping the seeds in a steady stream into the bubbling mixture before her.
Keeping her head down, Hermione glanced over to where Professor Snape stood glowering down on a hapless Neville. She sucked in a short breath when she recognized the narrow, saw-toothed edged leaves clutched in Neville's shaking, white-knuckled grip. Fluxweed leaves, not seeds. Oh Neville.
"Longbottom, do you know what would have happened had you added those fluxweed leaves?"
Hermione winced as Professor Snape emphasized the word leaves in a sibilant verbal caress that had the hair standing up on the back of her neck. Off to her side she could hear the excited whispering of the Slytherins on the other side of the room while behind her she could hear the nervous shuffling of Ron's feet. She didn't need to look around to know that everyone's eyes were focused on the drama about to unfold.
"Does anyone in this class of supposedly academically superior students know what will happen to this particular potion if fluxweed leaves are added at this juncture of the brewing?"
Hermione tilted her head, her mind running over the various ingredients used so far. Just as she got to the asphodel she sucked in a startled breath in realization, her head snapping up to look into Neville's wide, terrified gaze. Not wanting to open her mouth and draw attention to herself, Hermione still found herself unable not to answer to the question asked of the class. Eyes still trapped in Neville's panicked gaze, she slowly raised her hand.
"Ah, it would seem that Miss Granger has worked out the problem. How typical. Well, Miss Granger, do enlighten us as to the issue at hand."
"Poisonous gas, sir. The fluxweed leaves would have combined with the asphodel and the mistletoe berries to create a poisonous gas. The entire c-class," she stumbled slightly over the word before continuing, "would have died within 30 minutes."
"Very good, Miss Granger. Two points to Gryffindor."
Hermione heard snickering from the Slytherin side of the room at Professor Snape's generosity with the house points. A piercing look from their House Head, though, and even that side of the room fell silent.
"A poisonous gas." He looked around the room catching the eyes of his students in his fierce gaze. "A poisonous gas that is colorless. A gas that, thankfully, is not odorless as well."
Turning back to Neville, Hermione watched as a small smile lifted one corner of Professors Snape's lips. It was a look that sent cold tendrils of fear snaking up her spine, fear that was confirmed by the professor's next words. "Drop the fluxweed leaves, Mr. Longbottom."
Neville, still shaking slightly from being the class' center of attention, moved his hand over to the surface of his scarred worktable. The professor stopped him before he could drop the leaves. "No, Mr. Longbottom. Release the leaves into your cauldron."
Hermione saw Neville go stark white in terror and heard Harry hiss, "Leave him alone," from behind her.
Snape didn't even turn around to face Harry as he snapped out, "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for speaking out of turn. Mr. Longbottom, I suggest you drop those leaves, NOW!"
Neville could no more disobey that tone in Professors Snape's voice than he could fly without a broom. Neville's hand jerked, his fingers splayed wide as a dozen slightly wilted fluxweed leaves tumbled into the swirling, bubbling cauldron.
The Slytherins, with Malfoy in the lead, were halfway to the door of the classroom before the leaves ever hit the potion's surface.
Just as Malfoy was reaching for the great brass handle of the doors, the sound of locks snapping into place echoed around the room. Someone near the door started whimpering as the smell of something sweet and cloying started to fill the room.
Professor Snape had finally flipped. He was going to kill them all.
Ignoring the rising babble of panic at the door of the classroom, Hermione pulled her wand and spun around in her chair to face Harry and Ron. "Use the Bubble-head Charm."
Hermione jumped as a heavy hand clamped down on her upraised hand, stopping the fluid movements needed for the charm. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for interfering in my lesson."
Professor Snape raised his voice to cut through the noise of the other students while his coal-black eyes swept the mass of students gathered at the classroom door. "The first person to use the Bubble-head Charm will spend the rest of the semester in detention with me."
Beginning to wheeze from the sweet scent eddying around her, Hermione looked at her fellow students in shock. None of them were lifting their wands. She couldn't believe they were more afraid of Professor Snape than they were of dying from poisonous gas.
Swinging her gaze back to her professor, she stared at him in horror, even as the invisible fumes from Neville's potion turned poison coated her tongue and the back of her throat with a taste and smell of a thousand rotting roses.
Very slowly, his left eyebrow rose in challenge, daring her to speak out again.
Neville Longbottom, his Gryffindor store of courage exhausted, took that opportunity to faint at Professors Snape's feet. Or, a slightly hysterical portion of Hermione's mind noted, he might have been done in by the gas.
Neville's collapse pushed Harry and Ron over the edge. With a snarl of, "You bastard!" Harry attempted to launch himself across the intervening worktables at Professor Snape's back, Ron close on the heels of his friend.
Both boys, however, forgot that they were dealing with a man who, while maybe not as powerful as Dumbledore, was dangerous all the same. To Hermione, it was like watching a horrible accident and being able to do nothing about it except watch in horrified fascination.
Just as Harry slid across his worktable, Professor Snape raised his hand, the one that firmly gripped Hermione's hand and wand. "Funis Subnecto," he hissed, while forcing Hermione's hand and wand in a short S-shaped forward movement. She felt the surge of the professor's magic as it was channeled from his hand through her wand and was horrified as she felt her own power rise up in answer to his, joining together to cast the spell that was aimed at her friends. Neither had the opportunity to evade as thin, snake-like cords shot out of her wand to wrap around Harry and Ron.
Within seconds Harry was pinned to the surface of the work-desk, the cords wrapping themselves around the desk legs to hold him tight. Ron was brought to his knees on the floor beside the desk, wrapped up so tight he resembled a corded cocoon.
Hermione turned stunned and horrified eyes back up to see a satisfied half-smile on her professor's face.
"Always wanted to do that," he murmured absently as if he spoke more to himself than to her.
Still keeping her hand clasped around her wand, Professor Snape turned toward the crowded mass of students with a muttered, "Mindless sheep."
Hermione was fairly sure she was the only one who heard the softly voiced comment. His next words though were pitched to carry across the room. "Mr. Bloodsaw."
"S-Sir?" Thomas Bloodsaw, a sixth year Ravenclaw managed to stammer.
"Tell me, Mr. Bloodsaw," Snape's demeanor and tone no different than if he was asking a question during one of his normal lectures, "what does fluxweed gas smell like?"
Thomas, Hermione noted, had a corner of his school robes pressed over his mouth and nose. His voice came out muffled from the cloth. "R-Rotten flowers, sir."
"Excellent. Five points to Ravenclaw."
"Mr. Malfoy, will you ever forget this smell?"
"No, sir." Malfoy's less timid answer was somewhat spoiled by the gagging, coughing fit that hit him as he drew his next breath.
"Good! See that you never forget it."
Again using Hermione's wand, Professor Snape intoned "Evanesco" and the contents of Neville's cauldron as well as the sickly smelling gas disappeared. Another wave and the classroom doors opened on silent hinges. However, not a single student moved towards the door.
Sheep, indeed, she thought in something very close to disgust.
Snape must have thought the same because she heard again the faint huff of contemptuous amusement. "Out. All of you out. Report to Madam Pomfrey," Professor Snape said as he swept a cold gaze once more across the class. Abruptly he released Hermione's hand and wand. "Free your friends, wake up Longbottom and report to the Infirmary."
Spinning on his heel, he retreated back towards his office leaving Hermione staring in stunned amazement after him.
The topic of conversation throughout all of the Great Hall during the lunch hour predictably focused on Professor Snape. Most of the whispered conversations centered on whether the black bat of Hogwarts had finally cracked. More than one student stated that they'd known all along that Snape was insane and that trying to kill off his 6th year advanced Potions class was definitive proof.
Professor Snape's outrageous behavior even eclipsed Ron and Harry's aborted attempt at an attack on a professor. In fact, that was hardly given a passing mention. A development that Hermione, along with Harry and Ron, all felt was a great blessing.
In fact, the whole episode had rattled them all so that Harry had forgotten that he was currently mad at Hermione. Of course, the fact that the morning's incident seemed to bolster Harry's conviction that Snape was not to be trusted could have had something to do with his smug smile.
"Blimey! Did you see his eyes? He was enjoying himself. Completely off his rocker, he was," Ron said around a mouthful of roast beef sandwich.
"He even forgot to give us detention," Harry added. This seemingly simple statement confirmed to the rest of the Gryffindor table that Snape had indeed lost it. The Great Bat did not miss out on any opportunity to give Gryffindors detentions.
The whole incident just confused Hermione. She felt betrayed. He'd tried to kill them. It still didn't sound real, even to her and she'd been there through the whole experience. Professor Snape had poisoned his entire class. Rumors were flying through the school. The man who held the title of 'Scariest Teacher in Hogwarts' History' had just grown his reputation to near mythical proportions. And she'd defended him. She'd felt sorry for him. She'd begun to think of him as some black-coated, overgrown, misunderstood house elf that only needed someone to stand up for him.
Death put a whole new spin on everything. That was it. She was off the Professor Snape-just-needs-a-friend- bandwagon. He'd even been willing to kill off his Slytherins! The man was a complete menace. To make the whole experience even more surreal, the man hadn't even blinked. Not once. He gave no sign he was affected at all. Not a single tremble, not a nervous twitch. He'd not even broken a sweat.
If ever she'd wanted a sign from above about how to make her choice between her potion's professor and her friends, well, she'd certainly received one. Catching Harry's attention, Hermione settled her Gryffindor courage to eat a little crow. "Harry, I want to apologize for the other day. I . . . well, you were right. He's not to be trusted."
Her softly voiced apology stopped her two friends in their tracks. Ron even stopped with his sandwich raised halfway to his mouth. There was no mistaking the huge grin that slowly spread over his face. With Hermione's apology Ron was no doubt envisioning a peaceful return to their three-sided friendship.
Harry, in turn, gave her a smile. Easy as that, balance was restored. Or so she thought.
Wide grin still in place, Ron nudged Harry. "You know, mate, now that Hermione there has seen Snape for his true colors, I think she ought to be brought into the fold of the enlightened in true style." Ron managed to sound like Percy at his most snooty.
Harry grinned at Ron and then cast a sly glance at Hermione. "Repeat after us," Harry said. "Snape."
"Professor Snape," she dutifully repeated.
"Ah, ah, ah," Ron admonished. "Not Professor Snape. Just Snape. Come walk on the dark side, Hermione."
Hermione gave a soft, rather unladylike, snort. "Dark side? What are you, the red-headed Darth Vader?"
Harry laughed at Ron's confused look. "Don't worry about it Ron, it's a Muggle thing." Still grinning, he turned back to Hermione. Propping his elbows on the table he leaned forward and then carefully enunciated the word, "Snape" making sure to snap out the 'p' sound.
She rolled her eyes but dutifully repeated, "Snape."
Ron added, "Greasy git."
"Is this really necessary?" she asked.
Ron raised both eyebrows and looked expectantly at her until she repeated, "Greasy git."
Harry chimed in with, "Black bat."
This continued for some time with every imaginable name that the student body had ever called Professor Snape, until Ron's turn ended with "Black-hearted bastard."
Even as the words left her mouth she glanced up at the High Table only to meet the shuttered eyes of the man she'd just been disparaging. She expected him to be angry but he looked unexpectedly calm, his face an expressionless mask. She wondered how long he'd been watching them. Had he realized what she'd been saying? Ron and Harry's backs were to him, he'd only have been able to see her.
Then very slowly and with great deliberation he mouthed, "Twenty points from Gryffindor. Detention. 7:00 o'clock."
Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands in embarrassment.
Heading back to the Gryffindor common room from the library, Hermione let the moving staircases choose her path. They had never failed to deliver her to her correct destination when she was in a hurry, so when she wasn't in a hurry she made no protest or complaint when the stairs delivered her to odd or lesser-used corridors. She liked to think of it as letting the stairs have their fun. Truthfully, she didn't mind. Eventually, she'd end up where she needed to go. Tonight, she'd let the stairs do their worst. She needed the extra walking to settle her emotions before she had to face Professor Snape later that evening.
Detention. She had detention. She had detention for disrespecting a man she'd defended from the very same disrespect for six long years. Somewhere she was sure that the Fates were laughing hard at her expense.
But really, it wasn't as if she had said anything that a hundred other students over the years hadn't said first. And he deserved it. He did. Always grouchy, mean, and humorless with never a nice thing to say, especially if you happened to be a Gryffindor. She was fairly sure he didn't feel the day was complete unless he'd made at least one Hufflepuff cry.
The man was horrible and any sympathy, any pity, that she thought she was feeling for him was well and truly gone. She would not feel guilty about the names she'd called him. Childish, maybe, but not guilty.
Glancing at her wristwatch, she noted the time. She was fairly sure she knew which hallway she was in. If she were correct, a couple of turns further on would put her in the intersection where Professor McGonagall's rooms were located. Picking up her pace, she set off down the corridor.
Hermione's only warning that she wasn't alone was the call of "Severus" ahead of her in Professor McGonagall's usual no nonsense tone of voice. The acoustics of the stone hallways did some very strange things to voices within the castle. Her teachers could easily be either just around the next turn or around the next four turns. One could never be sure. So it was only logical, not to mention prudent considering the fact that Professor Snape was probably still angry with her, that Hermione chose to cautiously peek around the corner to scout the lay of the land, as it were. A precaution that stood her in good stead, as through the arms of a standing suit of armor Hermione could clearly make out the forms of both the Potions professor and her Head of House.
She seemed to be making a habit out of eavesdropping on other people's conversations, first the headmaster and Professor McGonagall, and now Professors McGonagall and Snape. Shaking her head, she briefly considered that it might be time to start worrying about this deviant behavior of hers. Tucking herself a little more firmly behind the convenient suit of armor, she decided that bad habit reforms could begin after she'd heard what her teachers were talking about.
"Severus."
Hermione watched as Professor Snape stopped at the end of the hallway as Professor McGonagall called his name again. She was fully expecting to see her House Head berate the man for what had happened during class that morning. Hermione waited in gleeful anticipation. Having Professor McGonagall get onto the hateful man would do wonders for Hermione's lingering guilt about disrespecting a teacher.
She was understandably surprised at the gently chiding tone that McGonagall took as she caught up with the Potion's professor. "Severus, how many times have I told you over the years that killing your students is considered bad form?"
Professor Snape snorted though Hermione could see one corner of his mouth curl upwards. "Truth be told, Minerva, I have lost count. And you can save the lecture. The Headmaster has both slapped my wrists and given me a stern talking to. However, I would like to point out that I didn't kill the little mongrels; I merely poisoned them. There is a distinct difference. I'd also like you to note that I sent them all off to Poppy long before any permanent damage was done. I think that showed remarkable restraint on my part given the circumstances."
Surprisingly, McGonagall laughed. Hermione couldn't believe it. The black-hearted bastard had tried to kill them and the woman who should be standing up for Gryffindor was laughing.
"Would you care to enlighten me as to why you tried to poison your Advanced sixth year class rather than just taking off numerous points from Gryffindor as is your wont?" McGonagall arched a brow and added slyly, "I'm assuming, of course, that it was a Gryffindor that set you on your path of student destruction?"
"Longbottom." That single name was infused with such loathing and exasperation that even from her vantage point down the hall, Hermione couldn't help but cringe in sympathy for Neville.
The Transfiguration teacher shook her head, but Hermione could see the look of commiseration on her face, even as she chided her fellow teacher. "Even Mr. Longbottom is no excuse for murder."
"Oh, stop your over-exaggerations. Typical of a Gryffindor," he huffed. "I was aware of what I was doing, as well you know. Besides, fluxweed leaf poisoning is fairly common. It's one of the Office of Magical Accidents top 20 reasons for wizarding fatalities. I can assure you that after the demonstration today, no one from that class will ever kill themselves with the fluxweed seed versus leaves mistake. They will never forget the smell of the fluxweed gas."
"Be that as it may, Severus, you got entirely too much joy out of the situation. You know you did."
The professor inclined his head slightly in a mocking bow, yet his words held a note of gentle teasing. "Would you take away one of the few sources of joy in my otherwise miserable existence?"
McGonagall made a clucking sound in the back of her throat. "Yes, I would. And speaking of joy, you tied Mr. Potter to his desk."
"Ah, the real reason for your pique comes forth. You don't care that I tried to off my class, you care that I bruised young Mr. Potter's ego. The boy tried to attack me. I was well within my rights to subdue him. I even did it gently."
"He attacked you because you were poisoning everyone."
Snape waved one fine-boned hand in a dismissive gesture. "It was for their own good. A little poisoning builds character." Abruptly, Snape sighed and the slight smile he'd been wearing during the exchange faded back into his habitual scowl. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must be going."
Professor McGonagall reached out a hand and touched his arm lightly, stopping him from moving. "You always do that."
"You have lost me, Minerva. I always do what?"
Hermione thought Professor McGonagall looked sad when she answered. "You always pull away or turn aside. Severus, are you okay?"
The scowl on his face deepened but his tone was still civil as he answered. "I am fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Minerva."
"Forgive me, Severus. Sometimes I forget, you know."
"Forget what?"
"That you are a friend. And don't snarl at me. I've known you most of your life and I consider myself your friend. It is a testament to just how well you play your part that I forget that at times. I'm worried about you."
Shoulders that had tensed at her first words slowly relaxed. "Your concern is . . . appreciated, but unnecessary. I am well and more than capable of taking care of myself."
Even Hermione could tell that Professor McGonagall didn't believe him, yet she allowed the lie to pass. "Very well, Severus. Will you at least join me for a cup of tea?"
"I would like that; however, I am on my way to supervise a detention of one of your Gryffindors."
"One of mine? Which one?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Miss Granger? That's hard to believe, Severus. I've always found her to be a model student. Whatever has she done?"
"Let us just say that she finally bowed to the pressure of her friends in regards to my character." With a faintly mocking smile, he added, "I'm rather surprised it took her six years to fall to Potter and Weasley's influence. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get down to my classroom before Miss Granger arrives."
Professor McGonagall remained in the hallway staring after the Potions master for a few minutes, her face grave. Hermione had no trouble reading the worry there.
Now Hermione felt guilty.
Professor Snape was an utter bastard but he'd been doing it for their ultimate benefit. Well, their benefit and his amusement, but still, mostly their benefit.
It was at times like these that she wished she were the swearing type. Like her first foray into eavesdropping, Hermione was now completely confused. Every time she had dealings with Professor Snape, she came away with a different view of the man. She was starting to feel like some kind of human yo-yo.
So that left her where? Hermione heaved a sigh. She knew exactly where that left her – right back on the Professor Snape bandwagon off which she'd just recently hopped, simply because it was obvious that no one was going to look out for him. Professor McGonagall was sympathetic but ultimately she'd just stood aside and looked worried. In fact, it looked like the man actively discouraged people from standing up for him.
If she could knit a hundred hats for elves that didn't want them, she could certainly take up the banner of Professor Snape, a man who most certainly would not thank her for her efforts. And as for Harry and Ron, well, she was going to have to keep her feelings a secret. She just hoped she didn't end up regretting this.
1 Latin to English translation: ropes to tie
End Chapter 3