Chapter Twelve: The Worst Part

Hermione heard Snape approach. She was proud of the fact that she could now discern his nearly silent footfalls before he entered the room. If she ever got well, he would never be able to sneak up on her again. She could tell that he was standing in the doorway, but had not come in.

She wondered what had happened at breakfast. She had been awake earlier when Dumbledore’s portrait was teasing Snape, and she rather proud of the fact that she had fooled him into thinking she was asleep. It had not been that hard. She had just thought about nothing and pulled every active thought to the back of her mind. She had tried to hide from him and it had worked.

Now, however, she wanted to talk, and since he was being strangely silent, she began by stretching her thoughts across the space to where she imagined he stood.

Good morning, she greeted him, and waited.

“Is it, Miss Granger?” he said after a moment. Hermione wondered if he was surprised that she had spoken first. She heard him move into the room toward her.

Dumbledore’s portrait said there was an article about me in the Prophet, thought Hermione. Did you read it?

She wondered if he would rebuke her for being so bold, but Hermione was not scared of him. This was not her Potions professor; this was the man who read books to her and who let her listen to his thoughts. He had only done so once since the trial, but she was sure he would be back. The book was not finished.

“I did,” he said, opening her eyes as he always did in the morning.

What did it say? she prodded impatiently.

“It was nothing but rubbish,” he answered, settling into a chair and folding his arms.

I imagine it was, she replied, remembering some of the outlandish things that had been printed about herself and her friends over the years. Hermione waited to see if Snape would give in and tell her what it was about. She had found it was much easier to get what she wanted from him if she feigned disinterest. She was rewarded for her patience shortly.

“It seems that a certain Doe Wren has decided that the best way to coerce me into an interview is with the threat of public embarrassment. You were also mentioned.”

Doe Wren? Is that her real name? Hermione mused disinterestedly, but this time her ploy did not work. Snape stood up.

“I’m sure your little friends will tell you all about it,” he said, and left. Hermione would have to wait for Ginny’s visit and hope she felt like talking. If she had been in another row with Harry it was all Hermione would hear about, in between long-suffering sighs and angry silences.

Hermione had to wait until the next morning before Ginny came, and she welcomed the sight of the newspaper in her friend’s hands. Finally, she would know what was going on. Dumbledore’s portrait had been making vague references to the article since the day before, especially when Snape was in the room. It only served to make the professor leave more quickly each time, and Hermione had decided that if the portrait kept it up she would ask Snape to remove it from the room. It kept scaring away the only person she could talk to.

“Hermione!” said Ginny, waving the paper in her hands excitedly. “Wait 'til you hear what The Prophet printed now!”

Ginny came and sat on the bed with a huge smile on her face. She smoothed the paper out and held it up for Hermione to see. Snape’s face was plastered across the front page, blinking in confusion and smiling at the camera.

“There!” Ginny pointed with enough force to bend the paper. “That’s the smile I told you about! So creepy!”

Hermione was not sure if creepy was the right word. Odd, perhaps, out-of-character even, but not creepy. But then, she supposed if she did not know him any better than Ginny did, she would think the sight of Snape smiling was creepy too. The only other time she had seen Snape smile was when he was about to say something particularly nasty, or when he had just caught students in some kind of mischief.

Hermione focused on the headline over the picture, which told her nothing: “Severus Snape: Is There More to the Story?”

After Ginny read the article aloud, Hermione understood why Snape had been avoiding her.

“It gets better, Hermione,” said Ginny. “They printed the first fairy tale today!”

There was a rustling of paper and she began to read.

The Tale of Sleeping Beauty

Since Hermione Granger has become our own Sleeping Beauty, it is only fitting that we begin with that beloved tale. How would the story go in modern times? Perhaps something like this: once upon a time...

There was a lovely young girl, clever and bold
who was discovered a witch at eleven years old.
She came to Hogwarts, but she did not know
that an unimaginable evil was beginning to grow.
She made friends with Potter, the fated boy child
who would vanquish the Dark Lord and drive the girls wild.
She was a brilliant girl, her professors agreed;
even skeptical Snape would see her succeed.
She grew up to become a most beautiful witch
with a beautiful face to match her sharp wits.
She did not go unnoticed by our watchful dark spy,
the professor who taught her defense on the sly.
It was during these lessons that she first surmised
she now loved the man who told many lies.
She believed he was good, did not doubt through it all,
and because of this faith she could not let him fall.
When the Dark Lord’s curse was aimed at her friend,
she jumped in its path and prepared for the end.
But the curse did not kill her; it put her asleep
and with no cure to be found the professor would weep.
He loved her now more than anyone could guess,
and wondered if he might wake her with a kiss.

Did he dare try?

Perhaps our professor has already tried this cure, but we can only hope the answer is no. It is certainly inappropriate to the teacher-student relationship.

Thank you, dear readers. Please send me your thoughts and I will post three of them with the next tale!

–Doe Wren

If Hermione had the power, she would have been blushing furiously. How could she face Snape after this? He must be positively furious that helping her was making him a joke. Severus Snape was not a man to be laughed at.

Ginny thought the idea that Snape was in love with Hermione was hilarious. She could not imagine Snape being in love with anybody. Hermione did not care what they said about her, but she wished they would leave Professor Snape alone. If he stopped talking to her and never read to her again, she might go crazy.

It was then that Hermione had a startling thought. Snape was the best thing in her life at the moment. Her friends were off having adventures without her, her unofficial boyfriend had given up on waiting for her, she was stuck in her frozen body listening to lectures from a portrait, and the only bright spots in the long days were Snape’s visits. Even though he rarely said much, it was enough to know that he could hear her.

Ginny stayed much longer than usual, and Hermione was grateful for her friend’s voice, even if she always said the same things about Harry and her family. It seemed things were settling into a new routine at the Weasley home, as they adjusted to life without Fred. Ginny talked about Quidditch and the coming school year. She was excited to have Harry and Ron back at school, repeating the year they missed with her. Hermione felt a pang of jealousy.

Snape did not spend more time in the room than was strictly necessary that day and Hermione was tempted to just start thinking at him – but he could easily block her out so she did not see the point in trying to force him to listen to her. She was surprised to see him appear again after dinner, book in hand, closing the door carefully behind him. Hermione thought she heard him send a spell toward it as well. He glanced at Dumbledore’s presumably empty picture frame before settling into the chair.

Thank you, said Hermione politely. Nobody else has read anything interesting to me lately.

Snape did not acknowledge her as he turned the pages of the book to find his place.

Hermione waited patiently for him to begin, and was soon rewarded with what she had come to think of as his rich ‘voice’ reading more about the history and theory of Legilimency. Though it was all interesting, Hermione found herself paying more attention to the tone of his thoughts rather than the words he was reading. His presence in her mind was commanding, steady, and nuanced. If his thoughts were a color, what would they be? Dark, dark green, she thought, like walking in a forest under a full moon.

Hermione focused all her attention on Snape’s thoughts, trying to decide on the exact shade for the representation, when suddenly she could see it! Her mind was filled with deep green and she imagined that she saw faint wisps of light rolling through it. She was conscious of Snape’s thoughts continuing, but she could no longer distinguish the words. She began to explore the image in her mind, chasing those elusive glimmers of light. She was conscious of the strangest floating, detached feeling now affecting her.

The green space in her mind grew brighter, with a diffused glow that energized everything she saw. She tried to make sense of it, to find something to focus on, even though she knew it was a silly thought. This was in her mind; she wasn’t using her eyes at all. Suddenly, everything went dark and she heard a loud snap.

She was conscious of what her eyes saw in front of her once more. Snape stood up abruptly and billowed his way over to the window. He must have snapped the book shut when he stood. Hermione began to feel nervous.

Snape slowly turned around to look at her again, arms folded. Hermione was now very nervous. What exactly had she just done? Perhaps if she had been paying attention to the book, she would know.

“Miss Granger,” he said presently. “What, exactly, do you think you are doing?”

Hermione let the silence stretch out before she answered.

I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, she started, opting to play dumb if possible. I really do appreciate what you’re doing –

“Granger, you are in no position to lie to me,” said Snape matter-of-factly. “You know I am not referring to simple... inattention.”

Well, I AM sorry, thought Hermione crossly. She mentally sighed and thought, I wasn’t paying attention, and then there was some kind of light...in my mind... and I was only trying to figure out what it was…

Hermione stopped, hoping that explanation would suffice. Snape swooped closer and stared down at her.

“I see.”

He was silent for quite a while, and Hermione knew she should be frightened of his anger, which was surely building. However, she could not help feeling that he was not as upset as he wanted her to believe.

“What were you thinking of before you – saw this light?” he asked.

Nothing, said Hermione. I was just – listening to you. Then, I saw – a sort of space – and I thought I could almost see lights in it.

Snape’s arm twitched a bit.

“And then?”

I – wanted to see what it was, said Hermione. So I – followed it, I guess you could say. Then it all started to get lighter and lighter…and then you must have slammed the book shut and startled me.

Hermione could not keep the hint of accusation out of her thoughts. Snape was silent once more.

“You are absolutely sure you were thinking of nothing before all of this, Granger? I do not believe that you were. Surely there was something on your mind…”

Hermione was mortified, but he would know if she lied. It would have to be said.

I guess sort of – pictured your voice – in my head.

“Why would you do that?”

Well, I thought that – if it had a color it might be dark green – and then – suddenly I could - see it.

Hermione’s embarrassment filled the silence.

I am sorry, she repeated, beginning to guess what she had done.

“Miss Granger,” Snape paused, and folded his arms again. “I suggest that in the future you keep your thoughts on the text.”

He studied her a moment longer before leaving. Hermione watched him go, relieved. He had said “in the future”. He was not angry.

The next day, Ginny returned, newspaper in hand.

“There’s another one, Hermione,” she said, climbing onto the bed and flipping eagerly to page five.

Hello again, my faithful readers! As promised, here are some of your thoughts about Professor Snape and his sleeping beauty:

“I think the professor should kiss the poor girl. If it doesn’t work, who would ever know? If it does work, she’ll be too grateful to care. But I must say that my daughter had Potions with Professor Snape and the stories I’ve heard! If he kissed me, I’m sure I’d think I was having a nightmare and wake up on the spot.”
- Sue Winkle

“I am astonished that the Professor would even consider kissing Miss Granger. In fact, I am offended that it would even be suggested! Taking liberties with students is not humorous. To be safe, Miss Granger should be moved to St. Mungo’s. If the professor tends to her long enough, he may begin to lose perspective.”
-Gertrude Horne

“I wish I was Hermione Granger. She’s so lucky! Just imagine if she really were like Sleeping Beauty – how romantic! I wouldn’t mind if Professor Snape woke me up with a kiss.”
-Elvira Moore

And now for this week’s story…

Beauty and the Spy

Once upon a time, there was a girl known for her intelligence, kindness and beauty. As she grew up, she became so lovely that people began to call her “Beauty” instead of her name, which was Hermione. Even though she wished to be known as more than a pretty face, she accepted her nickname and studied harder than ever in order to show her professors and friends that she was not only the most beautiful, but also the smartest young woman at Hogwarts.

Beauty worked hard and impressed everyone with her knowledge. She spent hours and hours in the library, and she even helped her friends when they did not understand. However, there was one professor who would never see her as more than an empty-headed young girl. It was Severus Snape, the spy of the dungeons. He hated Beauty, because she was loved by everyone and he was reviled. Though he was brilliant and cunning, he was neither handsome nor kind. Those who were not frightened of him hated him because they believed he was truly evil and merciless.

The only person who gave him any respect was Beauty. Beauty knew that the professor had a brilliant mind, and she wanted to learn from him. Even though he hated her, she did not believe he was evil. Beauty decided to be kind to the professor and see what happened.

Beauty began to smile at the professor, something no one else ever dared to do. She asked thoughtful questions in class and thanked him for the answers. Beauty did many other small things as well. She made her friends stop calling him names. She was always polite and cheerful and she refused to be afraid of the professor or to hate him.

Beauty’s kindness was not wasted. Beauty graduated and returned to the school over the holidays the next year to bring gifts to the students staying at the castle. On Christmas Eve she happened upon the professor in the hall. He seemed to be in a terrible mood, pacing frantically and scowling. When he saw Beauty he dropped to one knee and proposed marriage to the astonished girl.

“Oh, no!” she cried.“I can’t marry you! I hardly know you!”

The professor was not surprised, but he was broken-hearted. He vowed that he would change her mind. He would marry Beauty one day, when she truly loved him in return.

And now, dear reader, after being separated by time and war, our professor must wake his Sleeping Beauty. What might grow between them now, in better circumstances? Send in your predictions to be posted in tomorrow’s column!

Yours truly,

- Doe Wren

Hermione had cringed inwardly throughout the entire story. Hearing herself described as the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts was laughable. She could only imagine what kind of responses that statement would bring in. Pansy Parkinson had probably already bribed the writer to publish her scathing remarks. This story was much worse than the last one. The worst part was Beauty and the Beast had always been her favorite fairy tale.

The image of Professor Snape proposing to anyone in a hallway, let alone Hermione, was amusing. Hermione decided she could laugh at the article. It was so over-the-top that it really posed little threat to her reputation. Not that she had ever had a good reputation in the newspapers with Rita Skeeter around. Snape was sure to be angry. He hated being mocked and she was certain that he was the type of person who despised the limelight. He preferred to skulk in the shadows and ridicule the people who were.

Hermione thought that it was good for him to be forced into the public eye. He might finally understand what Harry had to deal with. He got publicity, both good and bad, whether he wanted it or not. Snape had always believed that Harry wanted his name plastered over the papers and whispered in the corridors.

Snape did not read to her that night, and Hermione wondered when he would be back. He would come back, she was certain, and Hermione would be careful not to intrude on his mind again when he did. Getting a second chance was more than she had expected from him.

Hermione was almost positive that she had been doing some sort of Legilimency that night. She did not understand how she had done it, but somehow in the process of imagining Snape’s voice as a tangible thing, a presence in her mind, she had actively connected with his mind in a more intimate way than he had ever allowed. Since they were already connected, it was surely not much of a feat, but Hermione was impressed with herself. The imagined light must have represented his mind. She had followed the trail of his voice from her mind to his, or at least approached his in a way that startled him. It was interesting that a mind it did not appear to have specific boundaries. It had just been a slowly intensifying glow, with a source somewhere in front of her. It was intriguing.

Hermione wondered if there would ever be a time when Professor Snape might consider teaching her Legilimency. It was a Dark Art, she reminded herself, but a Dark Art that he was using for good. Without Snape’s Legilimency she would be utterly alone, abandoned, and left in some dark corner of St. Mungo’s until she faded away completely.

They were redeeming it, by using it for good, and Hermione decided that she had no qualms about wanting to “read minds” as Ron had once put it. She was sorry that she could not explore the connection with Snape without making him angry. It was reasonable, she supposed, that he would be threatened. He was already making himself uncomfortable just to help her, and she had intruded on his mind without warning. It was surprising that he had not reacted more strongly.