Chapter Eight: The Secret
For the first time, Hermione admitted how serious her situation was. If it were not for Professor Snape she might already be fading. Snape had sounded gravely concerned, and it was clear that he did not think there was much hope for her recovery. Hermione had no trouble staying awake now.
Despite the sudden, heavy depression over her probable future weighing on her mind, Hermione's optimistic nature refused to be repressed. She was immensely grateful that Professor Snape had survived not only Nagini's attack, but the effects of Voldemort's curse. If anyone could help her, it was Snape. If they had both been trapped, frozen like statues, Hermione would have spent the rest of her life in St. Mungo’s, assumed to be in some sort of magical coma, slowly driven to insanity by the solitude. After all, it had only taken her friends a few weeks to stop visiting, even when they knew that she was still conscious, trapped in her body.
It was her friends' neglect that hurt the most, far more than the discovery that she was literally in danger of losing her mind. She was sure that if one of them were in her place she would spend hours in the infirmary, most likely reading to them.
If only someone would read to her! Hermione had never gone for so long without cracking a book. Even when she and the boys were on the run she had brought a small library of books with her – anything she had thought might be remotely useful – and read them over and over.
Hermione’s thoughts were interrupted by the Healer from St. Mungo’s who came every few days to check on her. Today he barely looked at her before sighing and scratching something on his clipboard. He never talked to her, even though he must have been told that she was awake.
Once the Healer was gone Hermione set herself to the task of staying awake. She began by reciting everything she could remember from Hogwarts: a History twice. She was almost certain she had recited the entire book word for word, recalling each page and its images and paragraphs as clearly as if she held the book in her hands. It was still her favorite, after all her years at Hogwarts.
Hermione had moved on to naming every potion she had ever made and listing the ingredients used when a soft tapping came to her attention. Someone cleared her throat and shuffled into her room. It was Ginny. Harry and Ron poked their heads in as well and then made their way to Hermione’s bedside. They all seemed to be in a terrible mood. Nobody said anything for a while. Finally, Harry spoke up.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for a few days, Hermione,” he said. “How – how are you? You still look – good.”
Ginny elbowed Harry in the ribs and sighed.
“I’m sorry too, Hermione. Mum’s been – well, you know. Dad’s taken to disappearing all the time. We’re all worried about him...” Her voice faltered and faded into a soft sniffle.
“I’ve been at the Burrow with Dad, sorry I didn’t tell you,” said Ron. “We’re all going to stay here for a while, though. So, uh, I guess we’ll be seeing you a lot more.”
Hermione was glad to see them, though a little confused as to their sudden appearance and apologies. Had Professor Snape said something to them, or had they come to the conclusion that she might miss them on their own? Snape had been quite upset when she mentioned how much she had been sleeping in the absence of her usual visitors.
They stayed a long while, through many awkward silences. Finally, Ron and Harry left together and Ginny stayed behind. She got up and sat cross-legged on Hermione’s bed.
“Hermione, I really am sorry. The boys can be oblivious sometimes, but I should have thought about you more. It’s just that – well, our family’s falling apart. I thought it would have gotten better by now, but it’s worse. None of us want to go home. I guess it’s a little easier... staying here... for now. There’s going to be a – a ceremony – for everyone who died. I guess we’ll stay until then, but after that . . . how long are they going forget about real life? Dad hasn’t been to work yet, but I suppose the Ministry is such a mess right now it hardly matters.
“Anyway,” she said as she wiped her eyes, “I’ll visit you more, I promise. Harry told me what Snape said... about how important it is for you to have someone talk to you. I’m scared for you, Hermione.”
Ginny leaned over and gave Hermione a hug, sniffling once more right in her ear. Then she leaned back and studied Hermione’s face.
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe that you’re really in there,” she whispered. “We miss you.”
After Ginny left, Hermione went back to naming potions. She spent the rest of the day reciting and by dinnertime she felt like she had been doing mental gymnastics. She was exhausted, but still refused to sleep.
Professor Snape and McGonagall came in after dinner, talking quietly as they entered. They walked right up to the bed, and McGonagall questioned her while Snape relayed her answers.
“Miss Granger,” said McGonagall, “Severus has explained the situation, and we are going to make sure you have something to do even when there are no visitors for you. Is there anything in particular you would like?”
With Snape studying her intently, Hermione answered.
I’d like it if someone would read to me, she thought shyly.
Snape did not say anything until prompted by McGonagall, his eyes still fixed on Hermione's. She felt her own mind drawn toward him, searching the depths of his fathomless black eyes until she thought she sensed something stirring in the silence of the room.
“Well, Severus?”
“Miss Granger informs me that she would like for someone to read to her.”
“I’m sure your friends would be glad to read to you, Miss Granger,” said McGonagall warmly. “For the times they are not around, we can arrange for someone – or something – else to entertain you.”
It doesn’t have to be reading all the time . . . but it’s so quiet in here . . .perhaps some music?
“Music?” Snape sounded surprised.
McGonagall stared at him.
“Music... yes, of course,” she said. “Anything else?”
It’s too bad Muggle things don’t work here, mused Hermione. A television would be wonderful.
“Though not necessarily – stimulating, Miss Granger.”
She was surprised that he understood her offhand thoughts, even when she was not trying to project them to him. They must both be getting better at this unlikely form of communication.
“What’s that?” asked McGonagall, frowning.
“Miss Granger was lamenting the fact that certain Muggle inventions do not function on the grounds.”
“Ah.”
I wonder why there’s no magical equivalent, thought Hermione. There is magical radio, after all...
“It seems that we have not quite caught up with the Muggles,” said Snape, still looking at Hermione. McGonagall looked a bit put out. She cleared her throat.
“If that’s all, Severus,” she said.
Snape looked at the Headmistress.
“Yes. For now that will be sufficient.”
“Very well. I will see you in the morning.”
There seemed to be some sort of warning in her voice. Hermione wondered what McGonagall and Snape had planned for the morning.
I don’t think she likes not knowing what I’m saying, thought Hermione.
Snape’s head snapped around.
“What, Miss Granger?”
He had heard her thoughts, and he was not even looking at her! Hermione rather thought he was just as surprised as she was at the moment.
She doesn’t like not knowing what I say to you, Hermione reiterated.
Snape only raised an eyebrow and turned to go, but then he paused.
“Miss Granger, I wonder...”
He came back and sat down beside her.
“Try shouting your thoughts at me, as you did the very first time,” he said suddenly, and then he turned away from her and stared out the window.
Okay, thought Hermione, amused by the excitement she sensed in his voice.
CAN YOU HEAR ME, PROFESSOR?!
He gave no indication that he had, so she tried again.
I SAID - CAN YOU HEAR ME?!
Still he sat with his head turned, waiting. Hermione sighed.
NITWIT! BLUBBER! ODDMENT! TWEAK!
This time, his head jerked slightly as he winced.
“That’s enough! I can hear you perfectly. Now stop shouting.”
You didn’t hear me the first two times, thought Hermione.
“I did,” he said, standing up, still not looking at her.
How can you do this? I thought eye contact . . .
“Is not necessary – only preferable.”
Why are you doing this?
Snape finally looked at her, his expression as impenetrable as ever.
It may prove useful.
Hermione’s mind was once again filled with his thoughts – his mind's voice, she supposed. It was rich and cool, full of energy, yet she could tell it was restrained, carefully kept within the forefront of her mind even as it easily invaded her thoughts. She suddenly realized that her mind was incredibly vulnerable to him, and she drew back instinctively.
“Ah,” he said with a hint of a smirk. “I wondered when you might realize –”
I trust you.
Snape regarded her silently, but his eyes seemed to mock her. Perhaps he did not believe her.
I’m just glad I can talk to someone. Thank you – for helping me.
Hermione wished she had read more about Occlumency. She had meant to when Harry had been taking lessons, but it had been their O.W.L.s year, and along with everything else that was going on she had not had the time. There were some things in her mind she did not want Snape to see, even inadvertently. She was not sure that she liked him being able to listen to her thoughts whenever he wanted. She could tell when he was listening, but she suspected that he was purposefully letting her feel his presence. Perhaps he would not always do so.
Snape had folded his arms and was looking out the window in her peripheral vision. He had shut her out. It was terribly inconvenient to always have to wait for him to decide when he wanted to hear her. Finally, he turned around.
“Miss Granger, this type of – connection – is unprecedented. Never in recorded history has Legilimency been used in this way. Only now does the Headmistress begin to understand the ease with which we able to communicate, and you saw her discomfort. As of now, Legilimency is a little studied, difficult, and dangerous art. Many of the general population do not even believe it is a legitimate branch of magic, so little is it practiced. If it were widely known that mind to mind communication is possible...”
I understand, thought Hermione.
Snape came nearer to the bedside.
“You have only begun to understand the risk involved in letting another person into your mind. It is, of course, your only option. Legilimency is a considered a Dark Art. It was developed as a weapon to control and break down minds. Those powerful enough to learn it have never been interested in anything as benign as mere... conversation.”
Dumbledore... began Hermione.
“Would not have allowed anyone access to his mind, no matter how accomplished an Occlumens he might have been.”
But surely if he trusted the person he might have communicated like this... with Legilimency. He didn't use it for evil.
Snape was silent for a while.
“Consider, Miss Granger... the former Headmaster had studied and mastered powerful, obscure Dark Magic long before the Dark Lord was even born.”
That was all he said before he left, and Hermione was stunned by it. What did Professor Snape really think of Dumbledore? What did he think Hermione thought of Dumbledore?
For a long time as a child, Dumbledore had represented the purest good to Hermione, but her estimation of him had changed over the years, especially the last year spent trying to figure out his riddles, and learning more about him in the process.
It had taken her a while to realize that Dumbledore must have known what danger Harry could get into each year and allowed – if not encouraged – it all along. Dumbledore was vastly powerful, and he manipulated people, but he was good. Hermione thought she had come to terms with this view of him, but Snape’s words left her feeling uneasy. Did he think that Dumbledore could have become something as evil as Voldemort?
Hermione’s days were now filled with visitors and soon she began to wish for a little solitude. Whenever she was alone, music played from some unknown location in the room. When it was not classical, it was a popular wizard’s radio station. The music would not play all the time, and she was thankful for that. Sometimes Dumbledore’s portrait would lecture her in various subjects or tell her stories. Hermione no longer had trouble staying awake, and she found that the transition from sleep to waking was more obvious.
Her friends even began to read to her, as she had requested. Ginny was by far the best reader. Harry was terribly dull, and grew tired of the task quickly. Neville read in a monotone, Luna would forget that she was supposed to be reading aloud and ended up skipping parts, and Ron was – well, Ron was excruciatingly awful. Hermione had never realized that Ron could not read aloud. Now that she thought about it, she was not sure he ever read at all. She was beginning to regret helping him so much with his homework.
Perhaps the real reason Hermione could not stand to have Ron read to her was not his stammering or his mispronunciations. Perhaps it had more to do with the fact that Padma Patil liked to sit in the room while he read. Hermione had always thought Padma was the less irritating of the Patil twins, but now she could not stand the sight of her. Soon, she began showing up with Harry and Ginny as well, and even talking to Luna as if she were a real friend.
Hermione’s worst fears were confirmed when Mrs. Weasley came to visit her one day. She talked for at least an hour, telling Hermione not only what was going on in the castle, but in the magical world beyond since the final battle. As Ginny had said, the Ministry was a mess. All efforts were being put into the trials and Azkaban was filling fast. There were not so many pardons this time for those who claimed to have been under the Imperious curse. Mrs. Weasley feared that innocent witches and wizards would face short sentences in Azkaban.
“We are lucky that Professor Snape is still with us,” said Mrs. Weasley in a hushed tone. “When Minerva finally told the Minister that he was alive – well, you should have seen her face after that meeting! It took two hours of negotiation before they agreed to let him stay here and help you. We’re all going to be at his trial, whether he wants us there or not! Oh, he insists on going alone, and he won’t talk about the trial at all, but Arthur and I are going. Harry says he’ll come, if only because you need Severus so badly. Having Harry there to show his support should help things. Harry’s got a lot of influence these days. We’re afraid that even with all the evidence, he may face some time in Azkaban because of that mark – well, I suppose it's just a scar now – on his arm. But don’t worry, dear – he’s got the best working for him, and if he does have to go . . . well, it shouldn’t be for long. We’ll have someone in here with you constantly, and at least two Healers from St. Mungo’s to watch you. Oh dear, I’m probably worrying you to death, but Minerva said you should know what’s happening. Let’s talk about something else now.”
Mrs. Weasley forced more brightness into her voice and continued.
“I wonder that I’ve never heard of Padma Patil until now, though I do think I remember her sister. It’s wonderful that you’ve adopted her into your group. I notice that she’s been to visit you quite a bit. She’s having a much harder time of it than her sister, what with losing one of her friends on top of the disappearance of their parents.”
Mrs. Weasley’s voice faltered into silence for a moment.
“Harry and Ron have been so sweet to her. Her sister spends all her time with that Lavender girl and won’t have anything to do with them. Ginny’s even starting to come around, though she says Padma’s too 'girly'. I think sometimes my Ginny forgets that she’s a girl – she’s got too many brothers.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled to herself faintly, then she patted Hermione’s arm. Why did everyone have to keep doing that?
“I’ll talk with you later, Hermione. Ginny will be in later today.”
Hermione watched her go, crushed. How could her friends have replaced her so quickly? If the fondness in Mrs. Weasley’s voice was any indication, Padma had been spending quite a bit of time with Ron lately, in addition to the reading sessions. Hermione felt the heat of her anger building. In all her visits, Ginny had not whispered a word about Padma. Wasn’t it Padma that Ron had taken to the Yule Ball? There was no need to relive that night, as it would only make her angrier.
How dare Ron abandon their... whatever it had been... after only a few weeks! She had thought that after all they had been through, after years of denial, every stolen moment together on the run, and certainly from the way he had kissed her the night of the battle, that finally they would really be together. She had thought that she loved him.
Ron was not the only person on Hermione’s mind. Through the visits over the next week, she learned much more about her friends. It seemed that Luna had developed a crush on Neville, who did not appreciate the attention.
“It makes me nervous,” he complained to Hermione. “It’s not that I don’t like Luna, she’s a great friend, but... she's so much smarter than me that I hardly know how to have a conversation with her. How can I go out with someone I don’t even know how to talk to?”
Oh, Neville! thought Hermione, understanding his confusion. Even if I could give you advice it wouldn’t be worth anything. I spent years thinking Ron was going to ask me out, another year thinking we were finally on the same page, and he’s already ditched me for the next bookish girl that came along.
Neville’s love life was soon the least of Hermione’s worries. Harry and Ginny were fighting again, to the point that they no longer visited her together. Hermione had lost track of all the little grievances they brought to her, but it seemed that Ginny’s moodiness and Harry’s short temper were to blame.
Sometimes Hermione truly wished that Snape had not told them to visit her so often. She was beginning to tire of listening to everyone’s problems. They seemed to forget who they were talking to, and used her as a convenient sounding board. Even McGonagall had come in once to question Dumbledore’s portrait, then sighed and said to Hermione before she left, “Sometimes I wish I had retired when I had the chance.”
Professor Snape still came multiple times a day to check on her. She wondered if he was worried about the upcoming trial. He did not speak much, except to question her. Hermione thought he had improved greatly since the end of the war. He was still sarcastic, stern, and tended to swoop about like a bat, yet his manner was somehow softened. He was almost patient with her now, and he had actually told her that she had greater strength of mind than most people. That, coming from the professor who had previously mocked her in class, was nothing short of shocking. Hermione was now convinced that most of his former persona had been the carefully constructed cover of a spy.
Hermione found further evidence of Snape’s new character – perhaps his true character – when Ron returned to read to her. It was unfortunate that Ron had proved to be the most dedicated of her readers, because Hermione truly hated listening to him. Once again, Padma had come along with him.
“Hello, Hermione,” said Padma sweetly, as if she were talking to a child. “We’ve come to read to you again. Ron’s almost done with the book.”
“You could have read it faster,” said Ron, but Hermione did not think he was speaking to her. He grinned rather dopily at Padma for a moment.
Why doesn’t she read to me, then? If she’s going to be here all the time she could at least make herself useful!
Ron began to read and Hermione immediately tuned him out. Padma was in Ravenclaw and often had her nose in a book – why wasn’t she repulsed by such terrible reading? She sat cross-legged in her chair, listening quietly. She did not correct Ron when he mispronounced words, as Hermione was aching to do.
Oh, isn’t there anyone else around here who can read? Or at least someone to get Ron out of here?!
Hermione did not think Ron had ever annoyed her so much. Annoyed was an understatement! She spent most of her time trying not to think about him, and he insisted on playing the part of her most devoted friend, probably to assuage the overwhelming guilt he was feeling (as he well should).
“Weasley. Out.”
Ron’s voice broke off abruptly, and Padma jumped. A dark shape filled the doorway.
“You too, Miss Patil. Miss Granger has heard enough for today.”
For the second time in her life, Hermione found that she was extremely happy to hear Professor Snape’s voice. Ron slammed the book shut and stood up. He and Padma left, much to Hermione’s relief.
Thank you, she thought in a rush, before she realized how strange that must sound.
Ron’s not much of a reader. None of them are, really. It’s just not as satisfying as reading it on my own. . .
Snape did not say anything. He sat down beside her, which he rarely did.
He was still for a few long minutes, and Hermione began to get nervous. Finally, he moved his arm and pulled a small book from his robes. Leaning back in the chair, he opened it and took a moment to find his page. Then, he began to read.
The first recorded Legilimens was Hordred III, though his brother, Mordred, claimed it was he who first invaded the mind of a Baamadian spy. In any case, the two brothers developed what they termed the Theory of Mind Control, which is what they set out to do. Their efforts were recorded by their nephew, Admur, though not in their entirety due to his murder in the third Last War...
Hermione was astonished, to say the least. Professor Snape was reading to her! His thoughts flowed easily into hers. It was as if she were reading the words right off the page, but it was his voice that sent them into her mind – that cool, controlled voice that made her head tingle. It was soothing to her hurting, angry mind. Hermione was embarrassed that she found Professor Snape comforting, but if anyone looked in the room they would only see him sitting by her bed, reading to himself. Strange as that may seem, the truth was much stranger.
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