Into The Light

They settled easily into a routine after that. Minerva or occasionally Albus would run interference on Umbridge and Price during the morning, while Severus, Hermione and Harry would pour over photo albums and childhood trinkets, interspersed with Harry’s anecdotes about their younger school years. Hermione would have lunch, and nap until mid-afternoon while Severus completed any potions work or errands required of him. Then in the afternoon it would be Minerva that regaled Hermione with tales of when she was younger while Harry ran in circles around the ever increasingly frustrated Umbridge. Every couple of days it would be all four of them, when Harry had managed to persuade some of the old DA to do the decoy for him.

It took a week for Hermione’s nap to be reduced to only an hour, and by that time her legs were strong enough that she could not only make it across the room and down the stairs, but also halfway back up them as well.

In that week, Severus had been educated in things he’d never imagined he’d know about her. He discovered that she loved strawberries, found house-elves both cute and fascinating, and liked watching him out of the corner of her eye when she thought he wasn’t looking. However, she disliked raspberries, cheese when it wasn’t melted, and, thanks to the occasion when he’d accidentally poured her a glass of Ogden’s, that whiskey made her wrinkle her nose and stick out her tongue in disgust.

He also now knew she liked shampoo that smelled like fruit, preferred her towels fluffy where he liked his stiff, and that he truly had no idea what he was talking about when it came to bras – but also that she didn’t need one just yet. He also hoped that by the time she did, she’d have regained enough ground with Minerva that he could palm Hermione off to her for that shopping trip. He discovered that her skin looked amazing in green, and that gold picked out the highlights in her hair and eyes and made them shine, but that anything except deepest crimson (which made her look too much like a seductress for his comfort) of the reds emphasised the bags under her eyes and made her lips look overly-thin.

He’d also discretely vanished any grey item of clothing after realising it was clinging to her steadily-reappearing curves so becomingly it was giving him erotic dreams.

He had been encouraging her to pick her own clothes, and had resolved to be more subtle with his approval of various items of clothing when she kept picking only outfits that he’d previously thought looked good on her.

She had also grown much more comfortable with both Minerva and Harry. On the third day, Harry had passed Hermione a small music box she’d apparently gotten for her fourth birthday, and she had taken it without cringing back from his hand. Harry had grinned over her head at Severus and Minerva, then promptly become overwhelmed by it all and excused himself, although the second the door closed, they heard a scream of triumph that sounded like it had been yelled through tears. Minerva she accepted on the fourth, when she stayed in a room with her on her own while Severus popped out to visit the loo, although she didn’t seem to notice either of these developments - but she’d stopped clinging to Severus like a limpet. She now was content to sit within arms length, although she did reach over to pat him occasionally as if to reassure herself he was there.

She had started smiling too. Not often – about once a day – but she smiled. Severus had first seen it when he’d been combing his hair and gotten the comb stuck in a snarl and been unable to remove it. After about five minutes of struggling, he’d been hopping around the room in pain and anger, swearing at the top of his lungs (he’d forgotten she was there) when he’d been suddenly stopped having caught sight of her ducking her head to hide the smile under a hand. Since then she’d also smiled in the presence of Minerva and Harry too, although that was a different smile – of gentle amusement, rather than the helpless mirth he’d snatched a sight of.

She‘d only laughed once, and they’d all heard that. It had been the Saturday afternoon that the Weasley twins had been allowed to have their wicked way – which they’d been begging to do since they’d received news of what Harry was doing in the afternoons – and had promptly turned up with all their best products shrunk and hidden in the cuffs of their clothing. Severus wasn’t exactly sure what they’d done, but both Umbridge and Price had had to be moved to different suites as their original ones were now uninhabitable, and Umbridge now kept sprouting pink and green whiskers. Their finale and piece de resistance had been to test run an entire new firework batch, and the twins had ended up making their escape by flying past the window of Hermione’s room at the precise moment that some dancing turquoise piglets had collided with some yodelling trolls and been caught in the explosion. Harry had opened the window to yell ‘bye’, and they’d all been treated to the sight of Fred and George with glowing pointed ears and sky-blue snouts. They’d all laughed at the spectacle, and Hermione had chuckled right along with them. It had been Minerva who had to excuse herself, teary eyed, that time, although Severus had had to quell a shout of triumph himself.

Umbridge, though, had had her revenge, however inadvertent it was. Hermione’s parents had been fully briefed about the situation and so when they came for what was to be their first weekly visit on Sunday, they didn’t question the fact that they were asked to arrive at 6am, and were promptly ushered into a deserted corridor and down a little-used staircase in an attempt to reach the Slytherin quarters before they were caught and Umbridge insisted on accompanying them and thus further traumatising their daughter.

They were caught nonetheless.

“Oh my dears,” smiled Umbridge, sliding into view with a self-satisfied smile. Severus could feel Hermione’s mother slump. “I would so like to introduce myself; Dolores Umbridge – I’m in charge of Hermione’s case.”

“Oh yes,” said Jane Granger, as Severus remembered her name, with surprising forcefulness. “Hermione mentioned you. Well must be off, see you next time. Come one Bill,” she added to her gaping husband, who seemed not to have quite caught on yet.

With a strength that Severus couldn’t help but admire, she marched off down the corridor, past Umbridge, and took a turn that led back in the general direction of the entrance hall. She looked like she’d just been awarded a title to Buckinghamshire, nothing like a woman who’d just been denied the first real chance to see her lost daughter in two years.

“What?” stuttered Umbridge.

“Oh yes, we’ve seen her already. That place gave her strange waking and sleeping hours, apparently,” said Jane with some nonchalance. “She’s asleep now – not really in a position to receive visitors anymore, which is why we’re going.” She smiled pleasantly, but the words ‘better luck next time, bitch’ were clear behind her pearly whites. It was truly an act worthy of a Slytherin. “Hope to see you soon!” She and her husband strode off confidently, leaving Harry trailing along behind them, looking a little lost.

Severus was nearly speechless with admiration, but covered it by smiling at Umbridge in a way that exposed all his teeth. “I believe I may go back to bed as my charge is asleep also, good morning Ms Umbridge.” He walked away, leaving her seething behind him.

Harry confided that Jane Granger had broken down and sobbed her heart out the second they were home again, and Severus couldn’t help but feel some sympathy. Hermione – dressed in neat black trousers that required one of Severus’s belts to hold them up and an electric blue tunic top - had listened in, but with no emotion. Severus had given a mental sigh – so still no memory regained there then.

She had regained very little memory in fact. Occasionally he’d catch her staring at a particular object with a frown on her face, but she’d had no revelations or breakthroughs. The closest they’d come was on the one occasion he’d set up a small cauldron of headache reliever to bubble on his desk and had absent-mindedly asked her to stir it for him. She’d not only stirred it, but also prepared the shrivelfig that had to be added next perfectly, all while on autopilot. She’d then stopped and looked at her hands, suddenly aware of what she was doing and from then couldn’t remember what to do next, or even what she was doing now. Severus, who had been watching open mouthed, asked her as calmly as he could to continue, but she – shaking in what was obviously long-instilled fear - confessed she didn’t know how, and apologised for ruining his ingredient. He had groaned and rested his face in his hands for a second, before beginning to reassure her that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Yet, for all that he’d learnt of her, nothing shocked him more than one particular thing he’d discerned.

He didn’t mind having her around so much.

And that surprised him immensely.

***

It was 3 am on a Tuesday morning, and Severus tried in vain to conceal a yawn, and saw Minerva do the same, as they both watched Jane and Philip Granger watch Hermione, who seemed a little discomfited by the intensity of their stares.

“So,” said Jane, obviously searching for a topic of conversation, “we hear you’re feeling better?”

Hermione nodded cautiously, sneaking a look towards Severus in a puzzled manner. He motioned for her to speak.

“Much better now, thank you,” said Hermione, and Severus shook off the pride that gripped him at the fact that she was not only talking without her voice stuttering, she was remembering to use basic manners.

“So what’ve you been getting up to then, dear?” said her father in a gruff voice Severus immediately associated with an overflow of emotion.

“I, I, er,” said Hermione, looking to Severus for more reassurance as she shifted slightly closer to him on the sofa on which they sat. “I look at lots of photographs with Severus, and Minerva and Harry, and they tell me stories, and I practice walking up and down the stairs.”

Jane smiled in what seemed a wistful manner. “Have you had much luck? You were never particularly good with stairs as a child - forever falling over your own feet – it’s a wonder you never broke a limb!”

Hermione nodded again. “I made it down and up two flights today, yesterday that is, for the first time.”

Severus again stifled his pride – she really was progressing remarkably fast.

“Wonderful,” said Jane, and Phillip chorused after her, “yes, very good,” at which Hermione looked a little confused.

“Thank you,” she said, and then they all sat in an awkward silence, Hermione staring at the floor and slowly edging closer and closer to Severus, while her parents still watched her eagerly, clearly trying to memorise every detail about her appearance.

They all jumped at the bell that rang loudly from over Severus’s desk, and Umbridge’s voice sounded clearly through it.

“Professor Snape! I have been informed that the Grangers are meeting with their daughter, and I demand that I be present for it! Let me in immediately!”

Severus swore, silenced the alarm with a flick of his wand and headed for the door. “Goddamn house-elves! I’ll stall,” he hissed, “get them out of here – if she finds evidence that she’s well enough to meet with them she’ll start insisting that she’s well enough to be questioned!”

“Fine,” muttered Minerva, “Your floo – it isn’t external, is it?”

“No,” said Severus, now standing in the doorway, “And I’d bet a large amount that she has Price watching the entrance hall.”

“Well then, I’ll enchant the carpet and we’ll fly out.”

Severus gaped at her. “That’s illegal!”

Minerva pointed at the bell. “That’s Umbridge!”

He paused. “Yes, fair point, well made – get going!”

He hurried down the stairs, ruffling his hair slightly as he went to give the impression that he’d only recently been roused from his bed.

He paused at the entrance way, as outside he could hear Umbridge still ranting at the now inert greeting bell. Taking a deep breath he opened the door.

“I have it on good authority that you have no evidence,” he said, smugly, as an opening line.

Umbridge seemed to swell with outrage. “How dare you do something like this, this treachery?! I had previously credited you with enough intelligence that you wouldn’t put yourself in this position – I’ll have you up on charges for obstructing a Ministry investigation! That’s an offence that carries a jail term, I hope you know!”

He snorted. “I am doing nothing of the sort – I assure you, there has been no one present in my quarters save myself and my charge for the entire evening. And while her sleep cycle isn’t entirely back to normal yet, that is certainly in no means an obstruction of your investigation.”

“I saw lights on in your quarters, and shadows cast by multiple people, Professor!” cried Umbridge – Severus knew she was bluffing on this point; he had deliberately warded the curtains so they wouldn’t show anything at all. “And furthermore, I am still not convinced that she could be sharing your quarters at all!”

Severus widened his eyes in a way that he hoped would make him look both affronted and innocent. “Did you not get my report on the situation? I believe I made the reasons perfectly clear.”

“But I am still not convinced!” cried Umbridge, even more passionately. “I demand the right to see her!” And with that she pushed past Severus with such force he fell over and shot up the stairs with impressive speed considering her ample bulk.

“Umbridge!” shouted Severus, shocked, furious and somewhat elated by the leverage she’d just handed him by committing such a huge faux pas.

“Umbridge!” He climbed after her as fast as his legs would carry him. “That is a deliberate violation of the instructions given by her physician, and is more than enough for a formal reprimand, and maybe even enough to have you to taken off this case!” He reached the top of the stairs and swore under his breath as he realised that she was already inside his quarters. He strode into the room still speaking. “And be confident that I will speak to your superior about this, and if he isn’t interested in it, then I’m sure the press will be!”

He stared at her, desperately trying to hold her eye – anything to keep her from noticing that the one of his windows that was now slightly ajar, or that the spot in front of the fireplace that now looked shockingly bare without its rug.

She glared back at him, when over her shoulder he spotted Hermione.

She had pressed herself against the wall, and her knees had bent enough to lower herself into a half crouch, making her look like a cornered animal that knows it’s about to die. But her face – her face was terrified, and all the blood had drained from it, making it parchment-pale. Even her lips looked blanched, and her eyes stood out as huge, frightened pools.

“Hermione…” said Severus in a low, and what he hoped was comforting, voice.

She didn’t even glance at him, but kept her attention focused on Umbridge, who whirled around to face her.

“Miss Granger!” she cried in what she obviously thought was a delighted tone of voice.

Hermione’s nerve broke, and she gave a frightened cry and bolted to under Severus’s bed.

Severus shot Umbridge a hateful glare and ran to the bed after her, dropping to his knees to peer under it, only to see Hermione curled in a ball in the far corner, her head bowed over her knees, small, strangled sobs beginning to emanate from her. Severus felt Umbridge come to stand beside him.

“Miss Granger?” she said again, in a quieter, slightly puzzled tone of voice. Severus roses slowly, until he stood at his full height beside her, towering over her squat frame, his utter fury glaring from every line of his body.

“Get out!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“But I only-” she whimpered pathetically.

“I told you she wasn’t in a fit state to see visitors,” he hissed again, advancing on her like a hungry predator while she backed away. He was well aware that with his lips drawn back to expose his teeth, his fists clenched and his muscles tensed that he looked more than a little ferocious and was glad of it – she deserved every fright he was able to give her. “And you went against it anyway, and you deserve everything you’re about to get because of it!”

She was within reach of the door now, looking at him with bulging, watery eyes. He continued, “now GET OUT, you heinous, repulsive CUNT!”

She turned and ran, and he took a vast amount of pleasure in watching her scurry and stumble down the stairs out of his sight – until the sound of Hermione’s sobs entered his ears again.

He went round to the corner of the bed at which she was crouched and stuck his head under the bed.

“Hermione?” he questioned. She didn’t respond, just continued to sob, curled in her little ball.

Sighing, he lay on his side, and squeezed under with her. “Hermione,” he said again, reaching over to rub her arm, comfortingly. Her sobs stopped, and she raised her head to regard him with red, tear-stained eyes.

“Is she gone?” Her voice was a broken, frightened whisper that added further fuel to the fire of his desire to ruin Umbridge’s life beyond all repair.

“Yes, she’s gone,” he said, and he felt her slump a little in response. Then she shuffled closer to him. He sighed, then capitulated and pulled her into his arms, and felt the remnants of her trembling cease as a reaction.

After a few minutes, just when he was about to insist that they move as he was getting stiff, she spoke in a soft voice.

“I didn’t know her but I really didn’t like her. Really, really didn’t like her – and I was scared of her too. But I don’t know why.”

He groaned. “I do, but if we’re going to have this conversation, then it’s going to take place on top of the bed, on soft covers, not under it, on a hard floor that’s having a very adverse effect on my circulation and surrounded by more dust than is healthy.”

She huffed in mild amusement, but followed him up onto the bed, and he found he didn’t have the energy to protest when she rearranged herself within the circle of his arms once more when they were there.

He started telling her about her fifth year in a quiet voice, but he had only just finished the political set-up of the situation and had barely touched upon the exploits of Umbridge when he realised that her breathing had slowed, and she’d stopped moving to watch his face as he spoke.

He peered at her, and realised she was asleep with her head pillowed on his arm, a slight smile on her lips and her right hand clutched at his robes in a death grip.

He looked at her.

He looked at her bed, and only then did it strike him that it suddenly seemed a huge distance from where they lay.

He looked back at her.

“Oh alright,” he muttered, waving his free hand to close the curtains against the coming sunrise. “But,” he warned, toeing off his shoes, and drawing what cover he could get at without disturbing her over them, “just this once.”

They slept.


Author\'s Notes: This chapter beta-ed by Brillliant!Beta Jocelyn.

Anybody who spots the reference to \'101 Things Not to do at Hogwarts\' (found here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/atalantapendrag/163152.html, and unfortunately not mine) gets a cookie.

And, finally, I don\'t own anything you recognise.