Triumph Out of the Bitter Taste of Ashes

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. They mean the world to me, each and every one. This chapter, romiromised, picks up the pace just a bit. : ) I hope it was worth the delay, which I heartily apologize for.


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Chapter Sixteen
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Severus warded the potions classroom behind him, glad to be done with classes for the term. Technically, he still had office hours to occupy himself through, but with it being the last day before winter break, he seriously doubted anyone would brave his office, or more precisely, him. He sighed as he headed there anyway. He did have end of term papers to grade -- though not nearly as many left as he\'d thought he\'d have three days ago.

He freely admitted, at least to himself, that the last three days had not gone anything like he\'d predicted. He had not been sought out by Mr. Malfoy once, let alone the repeated times he had anticipated . . . dreaded. In point of fact, Malfoy had spent very little time in the dungeons at all, outside of class and afterfew few -- though years of experience had Severus highly doubting that all the hours of \'after curfew\' could be assumed accounted for. Of course, the fact that he had yet to see either Malfoy or Weasley without the other in tow, might have something to do with that. He was just extremely grateful he\'d caught sight of *nothing* even remotely hinting at what he\'d seen \'that day\' by the lake.

He met no one the short while it took him to reach his office, and once the door was closed behind him -- though, he neither locked nor warded it -- he settled himself behind his desk fully intending on finishing the last of the 6th year essays. Unfortunately, he had no more than started the first one when a knock on his office door startled him.

\"Come in,\" he snarled, pushing his chair back to stand. When he saw who stood in his doorway, however, he decided he would rather remain seated. The surprise of her visit was by itself enough to make him wary as to why she was here. He had not seen hide nor hair of Miss Granger since the day she\'d passed through the front door of Hogwarts with no memory of who she was or what had happened to her.

He had heard things, of course. The staff had *always* discussed the troubled students, working out the best ways to help them through what ever it was they were going through at the time. Miss Granger\'s situation was rather . . . unique. She\'d had well over three months to heal from the physical injuries inflicted on her without the press of nightmares, or memories, wearing down her psyche. Unfortunately, the trauma she\'d survived had left more than one mark on her, and her late returning memories had left her very little time to deal with one of them safely.

Three days. Three whole days had passed, and no one had approached him for the appropriate potion to take care of the problem. Even now it would be messy, painful, and dangerous. Every day she delayed made those things exponentially worse. Poppy and Minerva were at their wits end. Both had tried to subtly tal Mis Miss Granger about it, tried asking her if she\'d reached a \'decision\' yet. Each of their attempts had been met with furious rebuffs.

Apparently, Miss Granger couldn\'t be *bothered* with decisions and simply wished to be left alone. If they pushed, she got hysterical. They backed off. If she didn\'t get herself kick started soon, she wouldn\'t have a decision to make, because it would be too late to do anything without serious risk to her life. He seriseriously considered shaking the stubborn witch and forcing her to just do it and get it over with. Obviously she couldn\'t recover from this if she was carrying around a constant reminder!

And now, here she was, standing in his office, obviously wanting something from him. Perhaps she\'d finalome ome to her senses and come to him directly. Anything the possible, he supposed. \"What is it, Miss Granger?\" he asked gruffly, shaking off the unwanted thoughts of adult responsibilities to children. He wanted nothing to do with the girl. Her very presence brought up memories he\'d long buried and had absolutely no wish to recall.

He was not her head ouse use -- thank everyone and everything ever in existence for *that* fact -- so it was not his responsibility to speak to her about her problems. He\'d brew the potion if she asked, of course, beyond that, none of it was his business.

\"The last day I was at Hogwarts before . . . before,\"

\"What about that day?\" Severus interrupted abruptly. He wanted nothing to do with watching her stumble over her words, or Merlin forbid, start to *cry*.

Miss Granger snorted a short abrupt laugh, hastily cut off, and squared her shoulders. \"I was given a detention that day by you.\"

**She was?** Severus thought back to that day, the chaos that surrounded it didn\'t make it easy to remember something as mundane as assigning detention. Oh, yes, he had, actually. \"What of it?\" he asked irritably.

\"I wanted to make arrangements to get it out of the wa

**Excuse me?!** Severus frowned, deeply. He stared at the Gryffindor standing in front him, shifting nervously from foot to foot, chin lifted -- he couldn\'t tell whether it was defiance or pride that had it that way -- waiting impatiently for him to say something. \"Very well,\" he snapped, not entirely certain why he didn\'t just chase the silly little chit right out of his office for being utterly ridiculous. \"Follow me.\"

He swept out from behind his desk, not even bothering to check to see if she was obeying. If she wanted to serve a bloody detention, she would serve a bloody detention! But unlike the usual ones, he would have her do something that would actually *help* him. He hated -- loathed with an aching passion, actually -- end of term inventory. *She* would do it for him. He smirked. One of the few non-Ravenclaw students he\'d actually trust to do it right.

He strode into his store room, removing wards as he went. Not bothering to turn around until he\'d grabbed the scroll that contained the beginning of term amounts, Severus smirked. \"End of term inventory,\" he said. Miss Granger winced in response, causing his smirk to broaden. So, perfect Miss Granger, Miss I love to know everything, wasn\'t fond of taking inventory, either. So much the better. \"I expected it done properly and without magic, Miss Granger.\"

Granger\'s eyes widened slightly as she took in the size of the storeroom, her mind obviously busy calculating exactly how long it would take. When her gaze returned to him, he saw the answer she had come up with. \'Forever\'. In actuality, it would take only a couple of hours, he was sure, but he well knew how daunting the task looked in the beginning. It always did.

He thrust the parchment out toward her. \"Ink and quill are on the table behind you,\" he said harshly, \"I suggest you get started.\" No sooner had she taken the parchment than Severus swept past her and back out into his office.

Fairly flinging himself down into the chair behind his desk, Severus glared at the door to the storage room. Serving a detention assigned before-- nearly four months ago. It was preposterous. If she remembered being given the bloody detention, she remembered the reason for it had been made up out of whole cloth! So, sure as he was s, it, it wasn\'t guilt that had her here, braving his presence.

Not knowing *why* was driving Severus out of his mind. He didn\'t understand the Gryffindor mentality at the best of times, and when they acted strangely he had no hope at all -- and he *didn\'t* like it. Mysteries were dangerous things, and tended to rear up and bite you in the arse when you least expected it.

Growling, as much at himself as at the mystery represented by the stubborn Gryffindor currently in his storeroom, Severus pushed it out of his mind, resolutely returning his attention to the stack of 6th year essays. Surprisingly, it didn\'t take long for the bloody things to take his mind off the current problem. The first one was one of the worst he\'d ever graded and the room around him faded as he lost himself to the vindictive delight of red-marking the atrocious paper, side-noting acidic comments about where the \'alleged\' student had obtained his information -- a picture book, perhaps? If the spelling and grammar of the essay -- by themselves -- were anything to judge by, they certainly hadn\'t graduated to reading actual *words* yet. The ones that followed weren\'t much better, but most of them were at least readable.

He didn\'t look up from his grading until three softly spoken words from across his office interrupted him.

\"I\'m finished, Professor,\" Miss Granger announced.

He frowned. \"If you\'re done, then leave,\" he snapped. \"Just leave the parchment on my desk.\" So saying he returned his attention to the last essay laying ungraded in front of him. Well, he returned *most* of his attention to it. Part of it was very much aware of the movements of the student who had suddenly become something of an enigma.

She set down thechmechment without a word and turned, heading for the door.

Figuring she was as good as gone, Severus began marking the essay.

\"Thank you,\" Miss Granger whispered.

Severus immediately snapped his head up, but Miss Granger had already disappeared out into the hall. **Thank you?!** he wondered, incredulous. **For what?** For the briefest of moments, he seriously considered storming after the cheeky chit and demanding to know what in Circe\'s name she\'d bloody well thanked him for. He\'d been a surly bastard to her, just the same as always. What was there to thank him for?

Shaking his head as the image of him chasing down the Gryffindor girl came to mind, he decided firmly against the idea, the image not settling well. \"Silly child!\" he muttered. Ten minutes later, he gave up on concentrating on the last essay. He couldn\'t give it enough attention. Too much of his thoughts kept straying to the damned child who\'d *thanked* him after a detention. It didn\'t make sense -- well, none of the evening made sense, but that part least of all.

Snarling angrily, not sure who he was more upset with, himself or Miss Granger, Severus strode out of his office, stopping on his way to his private chambers only long enough to lock and ward both his storeroom and his office door. It was almost time for dinner, and for a change he was actually hungry.


TBC
Kiristeen
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Kiristeen@kiristeen.com

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