Triumph Out of the Bitter Taste of Ashes

Shemham -- ::snickers:: it\'s just you, sweets. ; )~ Kidding. Love ya. (Patient? ::giggles::)
Deb -- LOL, guess what? You\'re question get answered this chapter. : )~
Barrie -- lol, yeah. Agreed -- I believe Severus has spent so much of his life being shown, and believing, the worst from most people, and never letting anyone get too close, he can easily find the \'vengeful\' motivation, the sneaky ones -- those are so easy to believe from his POV -- but seeing the other things, that would be difficult past the walls that he\'s built. : ) YEah, and of course, major illness does it too. I remember, vaguely, when my grandfather died. It was only immediate family, so we were spared the worst of that \'social awkwardness\'. There was still some, but I remember, the most comforting part of the whole thing was when we were finally at home, sharing the best parts we each remembered about the man.
AureliaFlint -- Thanks! : ) Some of your questions *begin* to get answered with this chapter, some in thxt. xt. And thank you again, I hadn\'t thought about the idea that wealthy families might actually account for posthumous births. I have considered, and integrated the subject of \'legitimate\' vs \'illegitmate\', but I\'m going to be evil and wait for the story to unfold to reveal my decision on that. ::ducks rotten fruit:: I *do* agree that paternity can\'t be hidden in the magical world . . . at least not to the \'authorities\' -- which I\'ve planned on accounting for. Especially not with the way I\'ve written how births are magically recorded.
Shanta-K -- ummmm, hi, what was put in? : ) I do use a word processor actually. I never write directly into the txt upload box. Shudders to imagine the things I\'d miss if I did that. LOL I do know what you mean about picturing a future scene and then having trouble writing where you are up to that scene. It can be quite frustrating sometimes. I\'ve never been good about skipping around. I\'m very linear. Though, I can go back and edit, for a changed mind. lol I\'m glad you\'re enjoying the story. : )

::Prepares to duck more fruit:: I know I said that Hermione goes home this chapter, but the muses finally decided to cooperate with the Hermione POV and literally *ran* with it. The subject matter I\'d planned to cover in one chapter is now covered in two. ::sighs:: Hermione won\'t actually get home until next chapter. Sorry.


Thank you everyone! : )


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Chapter Eighteen
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Madam Pomfrey tapped her foot, glaring at Hermione. Hermione ignored her, well, for the most part. She glared right back, hands on her hips. \"I\'m going.\"

Sighing, Madam Pomfrey shook her head. \"You snuck out of here last night, and by the time you came back you were barely able to keep to your feet, child.\"

Hermione seethed. She may not be old as dirt, but she wasn\'t a child. She hadn\'t been for a long time. That had been stolen from her along with everything else. Why didn\'t they understand that? She was *suffocating* here, coddled, patted, told \'it\'ll just take time to get back on your feet\', \'don\'t rush it, just rest\'. Well, she didn\'t *want* to rest. She just wanted people to quit treating her like she was going to break if they said the wrong thing.

\"Now you want to go running off, be without proper medical supervision. Well, I just won\'t let--\"

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly. \"I\'m going *home* Madam Pomfrey. It\'s not like I\'m running off to tour the world.\" **Sheesh!** Hermione thought indignantly. **You\'d think I was some hysterical 1st year or something!** Then she almost cringed, the times she\'d used their tentativeness around her to her advantage, throwing hysterical tantrums every time they pressed her to make a decision. What was so bloody important about making a decision. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

\"I\'ve made my *decision*, Madam Pomfrey, and I\'m *going* *home*.\"

Outright shock spread across the medi-witch\'s face, her mouth parting in a nearly silent, \'oh!\' \"You\'ve decided then?\"

Hermione nodded firmly. **Happy now?** She almost rolled her eyes.

\"Well,\" Madam Pomfrey said after a long time of staring at her assessively, \"I must admit I\'m surprised by it.\"

Hermione almost growled, stopping herself only by sheer willpower. She had a lot of that, she\'d discovered. First they want her to decide something -- anything apparently -- now when she does, it\'s suddenly \'surprising\'!

\"Madam Pomfrey?\"

**Ron!** Hermione eeped in startlement, and actually headed back for her room. **No! Damn it! I won\'t let this control me any more!** Her heart pounding against her ribs, and seemingly trying to climb out her throat at the same time, Hermione turned back slowly, standing stiffly, and waited for the moment Ron appeared.

He did, looking *exactly* like she remembered. She was *so* torn. Part of her wanted to cringe away and part of her wanted to bury herself in the comforting arms of lanky red-head. Ron had always been good at that . . . clumsy, but good.

\"Madam--\" Ron started to repeat, breaking off as soon as he caught sight of Hermione. \" *Hermione*?!\" he exclaimed, his words little louder than a hoarse whisper. \"Bloody hell, it\'s good to see you.\"

It was *so* good to hear that. Hermione managed a half smile, which bloomed into a nearly full one when she watched that oh-so-loved crooked, goofy, grin appear on Ron\'s face. \"Don\'t swear, Ron,\" she replied, in mock repeat of *so* many conversations past. He didn\'t come any closer, thought, for which Hermione was thankful. She seriously thought she might bolt if he did. He didn\'t look uncomfortable, either, which was *such* a refreshing change and was what held her in place. She didn\'t want to do *anything* that might change that.

\"Missed you,\" he said quietly.

\"Ron,\" she replied, his name coming out a little cracked. \"I missed you, too.\" Her eyes began to sting, and knew to her mortification she was going to start crying any second. Her breath came in quick pants. If she started crying, Ron would try to comfort her, *hold* her. If he tha that, she\'d freak, she just knew it. Just thinking about it, twisted her gut into nauseating knots.

\"Mr. Weasley,\" Madam Pomfrey said firmly, cutting off Hermione\'s growing panic. \"You needed me for something?\"

\"Uh, no, well, yes, but--\" Blowing out a frustrated breath, Ron shook his head and started over. \"I\'ve got a message for Hermione. I was going to give it to you, but since she\'s here, I could just tell it to her directly.\"

A message? For her? \"What is it, Ron?\" she asked, nervous twitches back instantly. Who else wanted to send their \'best wishes\', their \'hope you\'re well soon\'?

\"Professor Snape wanted me to remind you about your detention tonight,\" Ron said.

**Detention? I don\'t have detention,** Hermione thought in confusion, frowning, anger quickly replacing any thought of trying to figure it out.

\"I can\'t believe that grea-- Um, sorry, Madam Pomfrey.\"

Hermione almost laughed. Ron was obviously furious. It was the red flush combined with clenclenched fists that gave it away. She knew exactly what he\'d almost said, and judging by the disapproving frown on Madam Pomfrey, so did she. It was so familiar, so right, that suddenly Hermione wasn\'t angry any more.

\"It\'s alright, Ron. Did he say when?\"

\"Yes,\" Ron replied immediately, a growl in his voice, \"he said an hour, butt wat was almost half an hour ago.\"

\"I\'d better go right away, then,\" she replied tightly. Eyes flashing, Hermione headed for the door. **How *dare* he do this with so little notice!** she thought indignantly.

\"You will not,\" Madam Pomfrey commanded sternly. \"I have not released you yet. I\'ll speak to Professor Snape. You can serve it after--\"

\"No!\" Hermione shouted. \"I\'m not sick, and you know it! I got better months ago.\" She\'d meant to be calm and rational. She\'d meant only to prevent Madam Pomfrey from making Professor Snape angry, well, angrier. Once she\'d started, though, she couldn\'t seem to stop. \"Something bad happened to me. Something *really* bad! I WON\'T break, damn it! Leave me ALONE!\"

Madam Pomfrey hmmpphed, and opened her mouth, but Hermione was having none of it. She stalked out of the infirmary, slamming the door behind her.

No more than five steps out of the medi-witch\'s territory, however, Hermione was shaking. She\'d *screamed* at Madam Pomfrey! She\'d walked out without letting an *authority figure* finish speaking! She\'d *sworn*. She\'d-- Hermione cast a hurried, fearful glance over her shoulder, quickening her pace to a near run, expecting to find Madam Pomfrey chasing after her, wanting to make her return to her confinement. It was as if *she* had done something wrong! Confined, guarded, \'do this\', \'do that\', \'no, don\'t do that\'.

And the anger returned in a forceful rush, leaving her just as weak as the astonished fear had. **Fine!** She\'d served so many undeserved detentions over the years that one more didn\'t matter, and even if *this* was one more, at least now she\'d done something worthy of detention . . . several if she was being completely honest. Detention, even with *Sn was was better than being locked up any longer.

And as quickly as that, she laughed, her amusement startling her as it overwhelmed her as quickly as every other emotion seemed to lately. Sometimes she thought she was going crazy.

She rounded the corner and ran into a solid body. Male. Blond hair. **HIM!** No, no, not him. Too young. Hermione gasped, backing away, shaking her head. No, this wasn\'t *Him* this was Draco. Bully. Brat. But not *Him*. She stopped backing up. \"Malfoy,\" she said tightly, swallowing past the constriction in her throat.

Malfoy stood frozen in front of her, his expression, surprisingly mirrorsomesome of what she was feeling. What the hell was wrong with him?

\"Granger,\" he replied finally, his voice sounding as scratchy and raw as hers, as if he, too, was having to force vocal chords to work right.

He *knew*!!

\"How?\" she asked. It was the only word she could get out. She *hated* the way it came out sounding weak, and all trembly.

Malfoy frowned at her. \"How what?\" he asked irritably.

Hermione\'s jaw tightened, her teeth clenched tightly together. \"You *know*,\" she replied. \"How?\"

Malfoy actually looked away, shocking Hermione down to her toes. Malfoy *never* backed down. \"Obvious, really. Most people don\'t scream and faint the moment they see me,\" he mumbled, never once looking up at her.

Did he sound *hurt*? ? W? What? Okay, she just couldn\'t handle this right now. It was too much.

\"Look, I\'ve, uh, got to go. Detention,\" she muttered, rushing past Malfoy. It took every ounce of courage she possessed to not look over her shoulder, to not make sure he wasn\'t following her. Still, she felt like his eyes were boring into her until she rounded the next corner. Even then she had to fight the urge to check.

She didn\'t breath easy until she rushed into the potions classroom and shut the door behind her. Giggling, she clapped a hand over her mouth. She really was going crazy if she was *glad* to be in detention!

\"May I ask what you find so *amusing*?\" Professor Snape growled.

Hermione jumped, startled. She was early, she hadn\'t expected him to be here yet. Swallowing again, she opened her mouth to reply when the sudden image of her explaining *exactly* what she\'d found so funny flashed through her mind. The only thing that emerged was a squeak.

\"Ummm, I don\'t think you\'d find it as funny, Sir,\" she finally managed.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he stared at her long and hard. Finally, however, his habitual scowl returned. He huffed as he turned away, grabbing up a stack of papers. He thrust them toward her and she blinked in surprise, taking them mostly out of habit.

\"W-what are these, Professor?\"

\"Look at them, silly girl!\" Professor Snape snapped. \"And then *you* tell *me*,\" he continued, sneering in challenge.

Hermione hastily dropped her eyes to the parchments she held, quickly scanning the top sheet. **What?!** Startled, she looked back up at the professor, but he was staring at her impassively, waiting. Flustered, she returned her attention to the parchments, removing the top on.

**Charts? Graphs? What *is* this?** she thought, growing intrigued despite her . . . unease with the \'catagories\'. Focusing on numbers, and the specific categories, she moved slowly toward one of the tables, taking a seat on one of the stools without conscious thought. As she read, both her intellectual interest *and* her horror grew. Her fingers almost itched to put quill to parchment and figure out what it was all for, not only what the numbers themselves meant, but what someone was trying to prove. Who put it together? Were the base numbers accurate, or had they been slanted? Someone was trying--

Her head snapped up at she stared at Professor Snape. \"Why did someone gather these numbers?\" she asked. *What* they were was obvious, of course, but the why escaped her. Perhaps that was a bit broad. She could think of several reasons \'why\', and most of them she didn\'t like.

\"It\'s an assigned project,\" he replied unhelpfully, smirking at her knowingly, his look continuing to challenge her.

**Oh, and that *really* helped, Professor, thank you ever so much!** She shifted uncomfortably on her stool, weighing her options. Obviously she was going to have to ask the \'right\' questions if she wanted any information out of him.

She restrained a frustrated growl and squared her shoulders. If he wanted questions, then he was getting questions. Questions were *her* home turf. She started with the one she wanted to know the most. \"What is the premise?\" she asked. \"What is this person trying to prove?\"

Professor Snape\'s expression didn\'t change much. If anything he looked bored.

She wasn\'t quite sure why, but Hermione didn\'t believe it. Professor Snape never *looked* bored. Irritated, impatient, rushed, yes, but never bored. Somehow, she didn\'t think he was now either. The question she would never ask was, why was he trying to look that way now, and -- okay, so it was two things she would never ask -- why was this so important to him?

\"Depends on which one of the \'researchers\' you ask,\" he replied, his tone an odd mixture of disdain and quite possibly amusement.

That confused Hermione. So did his answer, for that matter. She was used to the disdain; he wouldn\'t be Professor Snape without it. It was the humor she didn\'t get. Who knew the man had a sense of humor? She certainly hadn\'t.

\"If you asked one--

**Oh, good, he\'s going to explain.**

\"--he\'d say to prove that muggle and muggle-born influence is *not* a detriment to wizarding existence.\"

\"And the other?\"

\"The opposite.\"

\"Must be interesting working together then,\" Hermione retorted drily. Two opposite goals from one set of numbers. One of them was going to be disappointed.

\"Indeed,\" he replied, snorting. \"You could say that.\"

Her suspicions roused, Hermione\'s eyes narrowed. \"Who\'s project is this,\" she demanded, \"and what does it have to do with me?\"

Again the blasted man didn\'t answer her, deciding to glare instead. \"Weasley,\" he said finally, pausing, \"and Malfoy.\"

Hermione\'s eyebrows shot up. \"Together? Working on *one* project?\" Feeling more than a little gobsmacked even *trying* to imagine that being successful, she spoke without thinking. \"Who\'s the idiot that assigned them this kind of thing together?\"

TBC
Kiristeen
Feedback: Food of the muses. : )
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com


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