You Know What They Say about Necessity...

Chapter Eleven: The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Hermione looked up, a slight frown creasing her brow. “That’s odd...”

“What is?” Severus asked, trying to stifle a yawn. He leaned back in his wheelchair, resting his head against the rough warm bark of the tree behind him.

Hermione had been right: the garden and the small patch of trees surrounding the house made for a peaceful respite. Maybe it was the medication combined with the gentle heat of the sun, but Severus had not felt so relaxed since the fall of Voldemort. His eyes fluttered, then opened part way to stare drowsily at Hermione.

She was sitting on a blanket beside him on the ground, legs curled up under her, chewing on her lower lip. “Dumbledore didn’t say anything about your therapist visit that’s tomorrow.” A sudden thought struck her and she glanced over at him. “Severus, you did tell him about that, didn’t you?”

“Oh, dear, it must have slipped my mind,” Severus answered with another yawn.

She tried to give him a stern glare, but it was hard to do when he looked so tranquil. Hermione had never seen him like this before and the change was remarkable. The harsh lines on his face were softer, like the way he looked when sleeping. His skin, normally so pale, had taken on a faint glow and looked… warm. Her fingers tingled with a fleeting desire to stroke his cheek, and she clenched her hand in dismay.

This is Professor Snape, Hermione, she reminded herself fiercely. You’ve been around him for two days outside a classroom or an order meeting and you’re mooning over him? Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea of how hilarious he’d find it if he knew you were getting a crush on him? A crush, for goodness sake. You’re twenty years old. And he’s still a very unpleasant person most of the time, don’t forget that. Of course, he’s done a lot for the school and the order. And Harry… Harry and Ron hate him. But he doesn’t let anyone see this other side if him! If they’d only give each other a chance…

Sure, her rational side snorted. That’ll happen right after you see a Crumple-Horned Snorkback. But wait a minute…. If he doesn’t show this side of himself to hardly anyone… why is he letting me see it? I’m sure Dumbledore knows it’s there, and Professor McGonagall, but why me? Could he… like me as a person? Harry said Severus didn’t seem to hate me, and he did agree to a first name basis… maybe he sees me as a person now and not just an ex-student. And why do I care so blasted much!

“Hermione?”

She was staring at him. He felt disquieted by her gaze.

“Sorry,” she said. “My mind wandered off. It’s so lovely out here,” she said, desperately trying to cover for her lapse. That’s all she needed was for him to get offended.

He inclined his head slightly. “It was a good suggestion on your part to come outside. I am as far away from Potter as I can possibly be without leaving the grounds.”

Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle. “And here I thought you were going to play nice after Dumbledore’s visit.”

His gaze was inscrutable. “I rarely play “nice,” Hermione. Unless it’s in my own best interest.”

“And it’s not in your best interest not to have Dumbledore come back and give you boys another scolding?” she smirked.

He raised his eyebrows. Boy? She was calling him a boy? Then he noticed the grin. “I can’t speak for Potter, but this... boy would prefer to avoid that, yes. Hence I am not making the comment in front of him.”

“Especially as it means that to say it in front of him, you’d be near him,” she added.

“Not if I was shouting, missy,” he muttered.

Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth to stop the laughter. Who was this man? Perhaps it was the medication. She removed her hands and looked over at him with an even bigger smile than before.

“What?” he asked, perplexed.

“I’m just trying to figure out what’s happened to my former potions professor,” she replied. “Have you seen him?”

He snorted. “Oh, yes. Charming fellow, isn’t he? I believe he has temporarily taken leave of his senses due to medication and favorable weather.”

“I thought you said blue skies and sunshine don’t addle your brain,” she joked.

“Hermione, must you persist in quoting me? I have nearly succeeded in ridding myself of my headache, and I don’t wish to get another one.”

“Sorry, Severus,” she answered impishly.

“You most certainly are not,” he retorted. “Now be quiet before I contrive some means by which to deduct points from graduated Gryffindors.”

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll be quiet if you’ll be nice.”

“Did we not already have this discussion, Hermione?”

“You said you could be nice if it was in your own best interest.”

“So I did,” Severus acknowledged sarcastically.

“Well, if you want me to be quiet… wouldn’t it be in your best interest to be nice?”

He wanted so badly to frown at her, but he couldn’t make himself do it. “You are getting dangerously close to a Slytherin way of thinking, you know that, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Fine. Let’s see how silent you can be, and we’ll see how… nice I can be, hmm?”

Incredibly, she winked at him before going back to reading her book.

Damn, Harry thought in irritation. Damn, damn, damn.

He was sitting in the library, a leather-bound copy of The Ancient Art of Magikal Defenses in his lap. Through the book was excellent so far, he hadn’t gotten past the first chapter yet. He kept seeing images from the past day: Ginny, Snape, Hermione and Dumbledore, all crowding into the front compartment of his brain and not showing any signs of leaving. He enjoyed thinking about Ginny, and didn’t mind the thoughts of Hermione. But Snape…

Thinking about Snape was the equivalent of thinking about a slug: both were slimy and disgusting. He briefly wondered if pouring salt on Snape would dissolve him, but rejected the idea. Snape had done a lot of good things for the order, even though Harry was certain he’d done them purely out of self-interest. Still, just because he hated Snape didn’t mean everyone did. Though if he were to take a vote…

Dumbledore’s words came back to him, settling in his mind like chalk dust. “You must look after him, Harry,” Dumbledore had said. “I know you do not like him. But there is more to Severus than you know, just as there is more to you than he knows. Perhaps some day, both of you will realize that.”

Harry snorted. He had no illusions about how Snape looked at him. The arrogant, rebellious son of James Potter. Well, that was fine by Harry. He’d told Dumbledore he’d try and keep peace with Snape, and he would. For however long it would last.

He stretched his legs with a sigh. He was looking forward to seeing Remus again. And Ginny. Before Ginny had left she’d whispered to him she wasn’t angry at him really, but would he try to control himself? He’d agreed. Ginny had that effect on him. She’d kissed him and told him she’d come back to visit in a day or two. Her vacation lasted for another week, and she wanted to, in her words, “spend as much naked time with you as I can before going back to that pit of mediocrity I call my job.” Harry thought it was a sexy thing to say, in a way. But then he also thought Ginny could make selling ice cubes to penguins sexy, too.

He was somewhat ashamed of his behavior, and hoped that while Remus was there that Remus might consent to stay with Snape just for an hour or two so Harry could take Ginny to dinner. He felt that he should do something nice for her, seeing as how she’d kept her temper with him so well when he’d all but threatened to flatten Snape. Actually, Harry mused, he should do something nice for Mione, too. She hadn’t been too rough on him, either. But she’d said enough to give a kick to his conscience. He laughed as he remembered her mutterings from two days before. Hexing Snape would feel great, but even if he could, it wouldn’t solve anything. Best to just ignore him as much as possible.

With this issue now resolved in his mind, Harry headed for the fireplace to make some floo calls to Ginny, Ron, and Remus.


It was several more hours before Hermione and Severus went back inside. Hermione, much to her chagrin and Severus’ amusement, had fallen asleep for a while on her blanket. Severus made no snarky remarks, instead he reminded Hermione in a sarcastically sweet voice that he’d agreed to ice,ice, and she had definitely been silent. She’d frowned at him there, but he kept his face so composed that she wasn’t sure whether or not he was being snippy now and therefore breaking their agreement or just stating the obvious. So she let it go and simply took him i
H
Harry was in his room reading and had already eaten, so Hermione fixed her and Severus some sandwiches and tea for lunch. They ate in silence, Hermione occasionally smiling at him, which unnerved him more than he wanted to dwell on.
Eventually they started talking, this time about poetry. Severus confused E.E. Cummings with Emily Dickinson, which Hermione would have found very amusing if she didn’t suspect that normally he would not have done so. This was the second time he’d mixed something up, and she was beginning to wonder if she should say something to Dumbledore, or his physician, or both. She said nothing to Severus, though, not wanting to risk making him worry. They simply ate and talked, and when they’d finished eating and the dishes were put in the dishwasher he told her that he wanted est est for a bit.

She put him to bed, covering him up as she usually did, and was surprised when this time he didn’t protest. He looked exhausted. Funny, she mused, how you could do much of nothing for hours and still get tired. She had no idea of exactly how much pain he was in, having never had one broken leg, let alone two. But if the curse thath ath Eater Dolohov had cast on her in fifth year was any indication of what Severus was going through, she knew it was bad. She left him, closing the door softly behind her, and wandered into the kitchen for some juice.

She found Harry there, sipping at some himself, and after glancing at her he poured her a glass.

“Snape asleep?” Harry asked. She nodded.

“They said he’d be like this for a while. That’s got to hurt him something fierce.”

“No worse than Crucio, I’d imagine,” Harry murmured, eyes dark with memory.

“But this is constant.”

“Take my word for it, Mione: Crucio feels like it lasts forever,” he said.

Hermione looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Harry sighed. “No, I am. You weren’t trying to minamalize what I went through. Hell, Snape went through it, too: a lot more than me, I’m sure. Inflicting pain is about tnly nly thing Voldemort got off on. That, and killing.”

She nodded. “What’s the news about Ron?” she asked, to change the subject.

“He wasn’t at the Burrow: Molly said he was out with Luna,” he replied. “Ginny is coming back over in two days, though. And tomorrow night I’m taking her to dinner. Remus will stay here with you and Snape, if that’s ok?”

“Of course it is!” Hermione exclaimed. “I miss Remus too, you know.”

“Oh, do you now!” Harry teased.

“Not like that, you prat!” she slapped at him playfully.

He grinned. “It’s a good thing Snape had just made some Wolfsbane right before this happened.”

Hermione frowned. “Wait… what’s Remus going to do for the next few months?”

“Didn’t Snape tell you?” Harry asked in confusion. “The two of you are going to brew ite.” e.”

“What?” she squeaked. “No, he bloody well didn’t tell me!”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows how his mind works. But yeah, Dumbledore’s gonna add a lab to the house this week. You'll need that to work on your healer's project, anyway, since you're working on a potion..."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, I know you don't agree with that. But you can't equate Professor Snape with potions just because that's what he teaches!"

He frowned. "Well, I guess you're right. But you seemed upset about doing the Wolfsbane with Snape...is that a problem?”

“No, I just…well… Professor Snape usually works alone,” she said.

“Well, he can’t exactly get around like he did before, can he?” Harry asked.

“Some help I’ll be,” she muttered angrily. “He’ll just use me for his legs, most likely.”

Harry shook his head at her. “Mione, you’re nearly a full mediwitch. You’ve had three years of training in healing and medicinal potions. If you did a two-year apprenticeship on potion making now, you could be a Potions Mistress in your own right. Snape might be arrogant and hateful, but he’s not stupid. He won’t just use you to fetch and carry.”

She smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m Harry-Bloody-Potter, the Boy Who Lived to be a Pain in Snape’s Arse, remember?” Harry snickered.

She giggled. “Oh, stop it! Hey, let’s see if there’s anything good on the telly!”