Chapter Fourteen: The Connection

Hermione loved listening to Snape read and she was not ashamed to admit it. His thoughts had a lovely deep, steady tone, with none of the abrupt sharpness of his speaking voice. She wondered if his normal reading voice was just as wonderful.

When Snape finished the chapter he closed the book quietly and held it in both hands. He relaxed, leaning back in the chair, and seemed to be lost in his thoughts – thoughts Hermione did not dare try to discover, though the knowledge that she may have the ability tempted her.

Hermione had a good view of Snape from her bed, though he was blurry to her unfocused eyes. He shifted and slouched a bit in the chair so that he could lean his head back.

He closed his eyes with his nose pointed comically in up the air. He looked so un-Snape-like, with his elbows hanging off the chair's armrests and his legs stretched out in front of him. Would he fall asleep that way? He might be asleep already. Hermione had never seen Professor Snape look so unguarded.

Hermione was beginning to suspect that Snape no longer viewed her as a student. If he expected to have her back in the classroom, he would never act as he had lately. Perhaps he did not think Hermione would ever to return to school. The only person who was trying to help her did not think he would succeed.

Is your mind never still, Granger?

Hermione’s thoughts were shocked into silence. How had she not noticed that he was listening? What had he heard?

Are you listening to my thoughts right now?! Hermione was indignant.

No, Granger. I’m attempting to clear my own mind, but it is impossible with your thoughts buzzing about like a swarm of bees.

Bees!

Exactly, he thought impatiently. Now, clear your mind!

Why would my thoughts bother you if you weren’t listening to them?

Snape let out an audible sigh.

They shouldn’t. So... why don’t you try to keep them to yourself?

Hermione tried, if only because she did not want to provoke him into leaving. She marveled at the ease and informality of their mind-to-mind conversation. Who was this man and what had he done with Professor Snape?

Granger!

Sorry!

Hermione tried to stop thinking about Snape, or anything else. The problem was that stray thoughts kept bobbing back up to the surface when she least expected it. She began to wonder if she would ever become a good Legilimens.

Granger, you are hopeless.

Hermione wondered if his statement was an answer to her musings or merely a coincidence.

I have a lot on my mind, she replied defensively.

Then you would benefit greatly from learning to clear it, retorted Snape.

Now, he commanded, his thoughts assuming his familiar teaching tone, put every thought aside. Gather them, examine each one briefly and discard it – put them behind a door – and lock it.

Hermione fought the urge to inform him that she preferred the sea method for clearing the mind. She then pushed away the question that had popped into her head about disguising the mind’s doors from a Legilimens. She took all of her Snape-wonderings and hid them behind closed doors – for now.

Snape’s thoughts were gone, and she could no longer sense him at all. Hermione pushed that last thought aside as well, and her mind was clear.

It was impossible to know how long they stayed that way. Hermione broke the spell when she began to wonder once more if he had fallen asleep.

Professor?

There was a long pause, then Hermione felt him stir.

What, Granger?

Sorry, she thought.

He did not reply.

I just thought you would be sorry tomorrow if you slept that way for long, she continued.

He still did not reply. Hermione was annoyed but left him alone.

Granger, he finally thought, where are your parents?

Hermione was surprised he had not asked about them sooner. She had not thought about her parents lately, having long conquered her homesickness.

They’re... in Australia, she admitted, wondering if he would be angry that she had not said anything before.

You do not wish to see them, he observed.

I do not wish – them – to see me, she corrected him.

He seemed to accept this answer and Hermione was relieved until he spoke again.

How is it that no owl is able to find them?

Hermione groaned inwardly, despite knowing he would hear it.

They don’t go by their real names anymore. They... don’t even know their real names anymore.

And why is that?

Hermione had no choice but to explain what she had done.

I modified their memories to protect them. They don’t know they have a daughter.

Though Hermione tried to remain emotionally detached from the statement, she was not sure that she succeeded.

I know it could be lifted, she thought, but I want to do it myself. I don’t want them to know that their only daughter is as good as dead to them. If they knew that I was like this, they would probably insist on taking me to a Muggle hospital. They try to accept magic, but they don’t trust it. They’re dentists.

Hermione stopped herself, realizing who she was talking to.

Please... don’t try to find them.

Hermione searched for his reaction in the following pause, but his mind was as guarded as his manner always was when speaking.

If it is your wish, I will tell no one.

Thank you, she thought, relieved.

Hermione loved her parents, but she did not want them to interfere with Snape's work. At the moment, they were happy and blissfully ignorant of the magical world in their new home. Hermione had often wondered how much closer she would have felt to them if she were not a witch. They had never even seen her wonderful, magical school and had given her incredulous looks when she told them about ghosts and moving staircases and house-elves, as if they did not think they should believe everything she said. If they had known all the things she had not told them over the years they would have snapped her wand in half and sent her to a Muggle school without a second thought.

Professor – she began.

What now, Granger?

Do you – have you any more theories about the curse?

He had told her as little as possible about her condition and his theories so far, and Hermione had assumed it would be better not to know, but as the weeks passed without answers Hermione’s curiosity had won out.

No, he said. Other than its similarity to the soul starvation curse, your affliction remains a mystery. I have not discovered any means of reversal as of yet.

If there was one person who would not sugarcoat the truth, it was Snape. Hermione was thankful for it.

And... if there is no way to reverse it?

Theoretically, all curses may be reversed, Miss Granger, with a proper understanding of their creation, enough time, and the ability to control the means of reversal.

Hermione thought about that answer.

What do you mean by 'the ability to control the means of reversal'?

I mean, he thought slowly, that sometimes what is required to reverse a curse is impossible to control.

So, there are some irreversible curses after all, Hermione concluded.

No, Snape insisted. Only a lack of understanding, time, or control keeps a curse from being reversed.

Hermione did not reply that she felt he was splitting hairs. She dismally pondered the fact that they had none of the required factors, expect perhaps time.

For example, Snape continued, curses linked to ancient magic, such as blood magic, must be reversed with blood magic. The problem is that blood magic is unpredictable and requires time to perfect through trial and error. Typically, a cursed person does not have that much time.

Well, now I feel much better, thought Hermione sarcastically. There’s definitely an answer we might never find!

Do not become hysterical! Snape thought. If it is something like soul starvation, which seems increasingly likely, there is no shortage of time. That in itself is a great advantage. Also, the curse does not involve anything so difficult to control as blood magic; remember that it was cast by a wand. Finally, you have the advantage of being able to communicate with me, something that any other victim of the curse would not have.

Snape stood up suddenly and smoothed his robes before picking up Hermione’s charts. There was a knock at the door.

“You may enter,” he said, and the door swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall.

“There is another reporter here, Severus. I believe it’s your turn.”

“Tell them I’m out of the country.”

“You know very well that they’re watching the gates and they know you can't Apparate out of the grounds.”

Snape replaced the clipboard noisily and said, “I must inform you, Miss Granger that I am obligated to meet with the Minister tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey will attend you while I am gone.”

He left, and Hermione realized how empty the room was without his presence. Tomorrow would be horribly boring. Ginny was not coming; she had a date with Harry. Hermione could not be angry at her because it was their first real date in weeks and she knew how much Ginny was looking forward to it. Harry was going to show her Muggle London, let her ride the underground and go to Muggle shops. Her father was jealous, of course. Hermione imagined that Harry would be glad to get away from the magical world where everybody knew his face. She just hoped they would be careful – there were still Death Eaters out there in hiding.

Dumbledore’s portrait lectured her on Defense, reminding Hermione of the DA. She missed her friends – she missed her life! Hermione might have cried herself to sleep that night, if she had been able.

The next morning dawned bleak and rainy, matching Hermione’s mood. She wondered if Snape was already gone and realized that he had never said why he had to meet with the Minister. She hoped it was nothing bad. At that very moment, he walked into the room.

“Miss Granger,” he said by way of greeting.

Good morning, she replied, as usual. You have not left yet.

“Ah, but we are observant this morning,” he said.

Would you give Madam Pomfrey something decent to read for me?

“I have already taken care of it,” he said.

Oh… good…

Hermione wanted to say more, but nothing appropriate came to mind. He flipped up her chart and made the same marks he always did.

Why are you meeting with the Minister?

“School business,” he replied. Hermione imagined that she rolled her eyes.

Yes, I gathered as much! I hope nothing is the matter. Will Hogwarts open on schedule?

“Yes, of course,” he said. “Hogwarts will be open as usual in the fall. The meeting today will be pointless, unnecessarily long and tediously polite.”

Hermione knew she would not get any more out of him, as she could sense his mind was almost completely closed off to her. If it was important, somebody would tell her later.

Madam Pomfrey did not come in until the afternoon. She held a rather large book in her hands, which she set on the edge of the bed as she bustled about the room and flipped through the pages of Hermione’s chart.

Finally, she came over and smoothed Hermione’s hair with a motherly smile.

“Hermione, dear, I can’t imagine why Severus wants me to read this book to you, but I suppose he has his reasons. First, though, let’s see what the paper has to say. I know Ginny has been reading them to you. Just don’t tell Severus. I don’t think he would approve!”

She settled herself into the chair and pulled the paper from inside the cover of the book, which she set aside. She read to herself first, chuckling now and then, before she cleared her throat and began to read aloud.

“I am not crazy, nor am I dead. Furthermore, I have never had a child, and if I did I would certainly not poison her! What a horrid story! Please don’t send me hate mail!”
-Lark Morin

“This story is ridiculous. Hermione Granger is a Muggle-born witch, as everyone knows, and there is nothing wrong with that! We just fought a war over this prejudice, so stop erasing her Muggle background! She doesn't need a secret magical parent to be a talented witch.”
-Hailey Corner

“How could an apple be anyone’s favorite fruit? Boring! Professor Snape needs a little more spice in his life. OWL ME!!”
-Maureen Stars

Hermione’s Hair

There was once a beautiful young witch named Hermione, with hair that was as bewitching as her lovely face. When she was young it grew too long and heavy for her poor head to carry around, and no matter how often her Muggle parents cut it, it would grow right back the next day. One day, when she was only seven years old, a witch saw her playing and took pity on her. She cast a spell that made her hair curl up to a manageable length and lightened its weight with a charm that made it rest like an unruly cloud on her shoulders.

When Hermione told her parents what happened they laughed and said she must be imagining things, though they were puzzled about the new state of her hair. Hermione grew up hating the witch who had ruined her beautiful hair, because she could not figure out how to break the spell.

Hermione finished school and was engaged to be married. The day before her wedding, she happened upon a picture of herself before the witch changed her hair and she began to cry, for her fiancé had often remarked that he would be marrying the most beautiful woman in the country, if not for her terrible hair.

“If I could reverse the spell on my hair just for my wedding day, I would be content,” thought Hermione, and even though she knew it would not work, she tried every hair potion available. Just as she was about to give up, she had an idea.

Hermione rushed to Hogwarts in search of Professor Snape. If anyone could make a potion that would work, it was him. But when she got there, he was nowhere to be found. Defeated, she sat in front of his door, weeping.

Suddenly, a house-elf appeared with a loud crack.

“Why is the lady crying?” he asked, alarmed, for he knew it was not a student that was sitting outside the Potions Master’s chambers.

“I cannot find Professor Snape,” said Hermione sadly. “I need to see him so I can get married tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, Miss,” said the elf, and popped away. In seconds, he was back, holding a protesting Professor Snape by the arm.

“Miss Granger!” he exclaimed when he saw the woman on the floor.“Why on earth should you need to see me before you get married?”

“Oh, please, help me sir!” said Hermione.“I need you to make a potion for my wedding day, it would be the best present anyone could give me.”

“What can I give you that you cannot get somewhere else?” he asked.

Hermione told him about the witch who had ruined her hair, and how she only wanted to feel truly beautiful for just one day so that her husband would not be disgusted by her hair on her wedding day.

This angered the professor, for he had always liked Hermione, and he knew that bad hair could not always be helped.

“Your fiancé is a dunderhead,” he said.“Even so, I will help you if I can, but you must stay tonight and help me brew the potion.”

Hermione agreed and they went to work immediately. They worked all night on the potion, but could not break the stubborn spell that the witch had put on Hermione’s hair. Professor Snape could not understand it, but he was secretly glad that he got to spend more time with Hermione. He was trying to convince her that she should not marry someone who did not like her hair.

“I wonder, Miss Granger,” he said at last, “if you would consider postponing your ceremony. I think we may be very close to discovering the answer.”

Hermione considered this and it sounded like a good idea. She had not wanted to have the wedding so soon and she was angry with her fiancé for laughing at her hair all the time. Perhaps it would teach him a lesson. She agreed.

“I will make the announcement and be back tomorrow,” she said.

They did not find the answer the next day, or the next, and after many weeks it was again the day before Hermione’s wedding. However, Hermione was now in love with Professor Snape and was afraid to tell him. He probably thought she was just a silly, vain girl who would not get married without perfect hair.

She was quite surprised when, as they left the lab he turned to her and said, “Miss Granger, I do not think you should marry your fiancé tomorrow.”

“Oh, Professor, I can’t put it off again! It’s not that I think you would never succeed, but I just feel so silly and vain already. Thank you for trying to help me.”

“No, Hermione,” he said,“I mean that you should marry me instead. I have loved you since the night I found you crying on the floor.”

It was not long before Hermione regained her senses and answered him with a kiss, and with that her hair was transformed back to its original state and flowed down her back until the heavy silken locks reached the floor.

The reason for this was that the witch who had cast the spells on her hair had wanted them to last, so she had said, “Out of love ruined, in love restored”, invoking ancient magic and using her compassion for the young girl to seal the spell, for she had thought it cruel to deny a girl the fullness of her beauty when she was in love. And so, Hermione was saved from marrying a man she did not truly love, and instead she married Professor Snape and lived happily ever after.

“Well, now, I liked that one much better than the last,” said Madam Pomfrey when she had finished. “How about you, dear?”

Only silence answered her, but she did not seem to be bothered by it.

“I liked it,” said Dumbledore’s portrait at last.

Madam Pomfrey now had the book in her hands, which had a red dusty cover that she wiped with her sleeve before opening.

“Scaklager’s Record of Unusual Curses and Their Unlikely Reversals,” she read, “Finding Amusement in Research. Chapter One: Laughter Cures All. In this chapter we will explore various incidents in which laughter has deflected or reversed a curse. The crucial point to remember is that it must happen at exactly the right moment and it must be genuine. The circumstances in which there is laughter when a curse is performed are hard to imagine. True laughter is innocent. It is pure mirth; in essence, spontaneous good energy that may counteract all or part of a curse. It is not a good strategy to tell jokes while being cursed, and it is impossible to imitate true laughter.”

Hermione smiled to herself as Madam Pomfrey read. She wondered if Snape had read this book himself, because it was hard imagine him reading anything so lighthearted. Madam Pomfrey read a few anecdotes about laughter saving people in impossible circumstances. In one, the wizard performing the curse had a terrible stutter and had tripped over a cat and fallen down the stairs, causing his victim to burst into laughter as the curse was performed. He walked away unscathed while the caster was stuck with his foot in the stairs and his nose melted off.

I get it, Hermione thought. This is one means of reversal that we can’t control. Perhaps all I need to do it get Snape to laugh – in which case, I will be cursed forever.

Madam Pomfrey read on, but Hermione soon grew tired of listening to her kindly, but rather boring voice. They were on Chapter Three: Animal Interventions, when Madam Pomfrey gasped and dropped the book. Hermione immediately realized that her body had gone cold again – stone cold.

It will be fine, she told herself.

Madam Pomfrey scribbled on her chart, and hurried out of the room. Hermione was relieved that there were no panicked Healers around this time. Snape would come soon and would figure out what was wrong with her. She must pay attention to see if anything was different this time.

After what seemed like an hour, Madam Pomfrey returned.

“Hermione, I have sent for Severus. I am sure he will be here in no time.”

She hovered over Hermione, wringing her hands absently.

“What to do . . . what to do . . . I know!” she said with forced brightness. “I’ll tell you some of my own stories. Heaven knows I’ve seen more than my share of ridiculous injuries over the years.”

She felt Hermione’s forehead again and looked worried before she sat down.

“Well, now, let’s see . . . I once had a first year who managed to change his feet into melons and then had nightmares for two years afterward about them bursting.”

Hermione’s chest had stopped moving.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” muttered Pomfrey. “Oh! Once, Harry’s father came in with a stuck-on smile, courtesy of Lily Evans. That must have been in their fifth year. James and Sirius were forever in the infirmary, though most of their injuries were self-inflicted. They liked to experiment on one another. It's the poor dears that get bullied that I feel for. Most of them would never admit it either. Severus was one of those. He would never say how he got hurt and I don’t think he came to me as much as he should have, because he only came when he was dragged in by a Professor.”

Hermione wondered who or what Madam Pomfrey had sent for Severus. An owl? A house-elf? Had it gotten lost?

“I bet you didn’t know that Lily and Severus were friends once upon a time. I think I can trust you to keep that secret. They both started out as shy little bookworms from what I can tell, and she used to be up here whenever he was, sitting in a chair with a book, a skinny little thing with a mop of red hair. I’ve always wondered what might have happened if she hadn’t become so popular.”

Hermione knew that normally she would be interested in what Madam Pomfrey was telling her, but she did not have the energy to care at the moment. Snape and Harry’s mother were friends?

That could explain a lot, she mused.

“Oh dear, where could Severus be? I think I’ll send Truno. He can be quite insistent.”

Madam Pomfrey jumped out of the chair and disappeared from the room once more, to summon a house-elf, Hermione supposed. She returned minutes later.

“Well, that should do it. I’ve told Truno not to return unless Professor Snape is with him.”

The image from the article of Snape arriving on the arm of a house-elf returned to Hermione and she wanted to laugh. Hermione’s chest lifted again.

“That’s good, dear,” she said, patting her arm.“Keep breathing. Just a little while longer and Severus will be here. Don’t you worry!”

Whenever Madam Pomfrey said Snape’s first name, Hermione imagined him as an eleven-year-old boy at Hogwarts. He must have been a skinny, awkward thing – Harry and Ron had been through some rough stages themselves.

Severus. His name was so – severe. Did it fit him, or had he come to fit it? What had he been like as a child? Hermione remembered him lying back in the chair the day before, his usual composure forgotten.

Hermione became aware that Madam Pomfrey was still talking, mostly to herself.

“…some kind of connection between you two. It can’t be a coincidence that as soon as he leaves you become worse. Albus, if you were not a portrait I would bet you twenty Galleons that as soon as Severus returns she improves. Oh, what if the papers hear about this?! This curse is strange indeed! I’ve never heard of anything like it. I wonder – perhaps he should stay away? Perhaps she needs to get worse in order to improve… just like he was on death’s door and then was up walking around the next day…”

Hermione began to get annoyed with Madam Pomfrey. What did she know about Dark curses? Snape could not leave! Surely he would be here soon and would tell Madam Pomfrey what a ridiculous idea it was.

There was a loud crack and for a moment Hermione thought that Snape had Apparated directly into her room, and argued with her tired mind that it was impossible. Then she realized that it was only the door being thrown open as he rushed in. A surprisingly large house-elf was behind him, as well as Professor McGonagall.

“Sir! What else shall I do?”

The house-elf had a deep, raspy voice – at least compared to other house-elves.

“Nothing, nothing, you foolish elf, what could you do? Get back to work!”

“Very well, sir.”

Truno left with a displeased crack.

“How long has she been like this?”

“For over an hour. I sent for you immediately.”

Madam Pomfrey was whispering, while Snape’s voice seemed to be getting louder.

“Your first message did not make it past the Minister’s secretary,” he said angrily.

“Indeed! I do not understand it, for I said it was most urgent and related to Miss Granger!”

Snape was bending over her, touching Hermione’s head lightly.

Can you hear me?

Yes, answered Hermione tiredly. I’m so glad you’re here.

“I believe she will be fine,” said Snape. “She is coherent.”

“How can you be sure?” questioned McGonagall.

“I cannot be sure,” he replied impatiently, “but there is, after all, a precedent.”

“So, you’ve come to the same conclusion as I have,” said Madam Pomfrey.

“What other conclusion is there?” Snape interrupted irritably. “We are obviously linked by this curse!”