Vampyre

Chapter Two
An Empty Hogwarts

Hermione could not rationalize her feelings. Harry looked at her with concern when she visited him that afternoon with puffy eyes. Ron, of course, had wasted no time telling Harry about her crying over the greasy git.

"You have to admit that it's a bloody shame someone would pick Snape off after all the stuff that's happened," Harry said, wincing as he sat up in bed.

"Cor, Harry. The git was bloody evil and I don't care what anyone believes, he murdered Dumbledore deliberately."

"I didn't like him any better than you did," Harry told Ron, "But he did go through a lot. Maybe he deserved a little peace."

"He got peace, now didn't he?"

"Ron, stop being disrespectful of the dead," Hermione said. "You didn't respect Snape when he was alive, so at least be kind now that he's gone."

"He didn't like any of us," Ron replied. "Especially if your name was Weasley."

"You were just afraid of him."

"I had plenty of reason to be."

"I'm tired of you, Ron," Hermione kissed Harry on the forehead. "I'll see you later, Harry. I'm going up to rest. It's been a long day."

Hermione left the two boys, relieved to be rid of Ron for a while. She hesitated in the hall, debating on whether or not she should eat something.

"The dead still live."

Hermione sighed, hearing the familiar voice of Sybil behind her. She turned to see the Professor gliding down the stairs, still wearing her black funeral robes, a bony finger pointing at her.

"I saw it in the crystal. The dead shall continue to live, and he will come for you."

"Don't be stupid, Professor." Hermione saw no reason to be respectful to someone she regarded as an idiot. "You know precisely what I think about your predictions. If you will excuse me."

Hermione pushed past the witch, ignoring the finger that still pointed.

"She will be marked by him. I can feel it," Sybil whispered.

~*~*~

At midnight thunder was rumbling and so was Hermione's stomach. She should have eaten something, but she'd closeted herself in her room and buried her nose in her books. School would start in a week and she didn't feel prepared. Ron was peeved at her because, he said, she had an attitude problem. He had avoided her all evening, which was fine with Hermione. She preferred her peace.

She opened her potions text and sighed. It was going to be strange, having potions class without the dark Professor hovering about and hissing. As far as Hermione was concerned, there wasn't another teacher that could hold a candle to Snape when it came to making potions. She shut the book. She didn't have the heart to even read about potions right now. Her heart was still in shock over the death of Professor Snape.

Maybe a cup of chocolate would help. Since school wasn't in session she wouldn't have to sneak down to the kitchens.

Hermione had barely crawled out of the portrait hole when she spotted Headmistress McGonagall, clad in her deep ruby coloured dressing robe, her long graying hair in a braid.

"I see that you cannot sleep either, Hermione," she said.

"I was trying to study, but I was hungry."

"I am headed to the kitchens myself for a snack. I was preoccupied during the tea hour and failed to eat anything."

"I'm still upset," Hermione confessed. "I know that the Professor wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but I find myself asking why it had to happen to him."

"Life is strange like that. Sometimes we cannot predict what will happen, for all the magic that we may possess. I will miss Severus. I had hoped for many years that he would settle down and find someone who could care for him."

Hermione had never thought of her Professor in a romantic perspective. He had always seemed too cold to even be approachable.

"Ah, so you are surprised," Minerva said. "There was a gentle side to Severus that he did not show the students. The truth is he rarely showed it to me. But Albus mentioned it several times."

The older witch was silent and thoughtful until she and Hermione were sitting comfortably at one of the large kitchen tables, drinking cocoa and eating bits of meat and cheese and buttered bread that the house-elves had gladly given them before being dismissed for the night.

"Hermione, I have been thinking this afternoon. I know that you are determined to finish your last year of schooling here, but have you ever considered teaching?"

"Not really, Professor. I haven't decided yet exactly what I want to do. I suppose I will attend the university."

"What would you say if I were to offer to administer your N.E.W.T.S. this week?"

"Without attending my last year of school?"

"Come now, Hermione. You and I both know that you are the smartest witch that the school has ever had. I have no doubt that you could pass the N.E.W.T.S. on what you know now. The reason that I ask is that Severus' passing leaves me in a bad position. With all the schools re-opening, there is a shortage of qualified teachers. You have been an outstanding student in potions, and we have no one to replace Severus with."

"What about Professor Lupin?"

"Remus prefers to teach the Dark Arts Class, and it's fine with me. He has a lot of experience in that. You would be helping me out tremendously if you would take the post at least temporarily until I can find a teacher that will take over permanently."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest.

"I know you are young, and have not had any college training, but neither did Severus when he took the position years ago. You would be doing him a favour as well if you took the job."

Hermione blinked and her eyes welled up, unbidden.

"Don't cry, dear. I'm sorry if I upset you," Minerva apologized. She looked at Hermione in speculation. "May I ask a private question?"

"You didn't upset me." Hermione wiped her eyes. "I don't know why I've been so teary over this. It's just that I couldn't stand to see him lying there so lifeless and young."

"You really did care about Severus, didn't you?"

"No, no, it isn't that, really. I mean he was my Professor and I am just sad for him."

"It's not a total crime to like one's Professor, Hermione." Minerva took a sip of her cocoa and felt her own eyes become wet. "I had a bit of a crush on Albus when I was here during my own school years."

"You liked Professor Dumbledore?"

Minerva gave a slight laugh. "Oh yes, very much so. Albus was red headed in those days and my teenage hormones liked him a lot. He was gentle and easygoing and there was just something about him that appealed to me. Even when I went on to college and left Hogwarts, I could not forget him and continued to write to him. We remained friends until he became Headmaster and invited me to teach Transfiguration."

"I never thought of Professor Snape like that."

"I see a lot of Severus in you. You and he are a lot alike in your love of books and potions. He was a smart young man. It wouldn't have surprised me if you and he..."

Minerva did not finish the thought and Hermione felt herself flush.

"There's no use in dwelling on what might have been when we have to face the future." Minerva motioned to the pot of cocoa, which poured fresh chocolate into both cups. "Albus said that many times. I have sent out several owls to candidates for the potions position, and found they were already contracted. Won't you please help me out, at least for a little while?"

"I just don't know if I'm capable of doing it, Professor," Hermione explained. "After all I know a lot of the students, and I'm not sure they will respect me as a Professor."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. I have a lot of confidence in you, as did Severus, though he probably never said so. I think you will be a fine Potions Mistress. I can have your N.E.W.T.S. ready tomorrow afternoon, so you can be ready to go on Monday."

Hermione's heart beat faster. She loved a challenged and this was going to be one. But did she dare take it? She could imagine how angry Professor Snape would be if she moved into his old rooms and handled some of his beloved books.

"Yes. I'll help out," she heard herself say.

"Wonderful." A rare smile crossed Minerva's troubled face. "I don't think that you will regret it."

~*~*~

It was clear by the next evening that summer was fading into a wet and dark fall. Light rain was still falling but Hermione didn't have time to bother herself over bad weather as she pulled her cloak on and the hood over her head. She'd visited the greenhouses that morning before taking her N.E.W.T.S. and gathered a bouquet to leave in the Professor's tomb. There had been no flowers at the funeral in deference to the fact that Snape hated them.

That would never do as far as Hermione was concerned. Fresh white and red roses, blue forget-me-nots, and ivy would be perfect to leave in the tomb, she thought as she hurried across the grass, head down to avoid the rain.

Hermione climbed the marble stairs and prepared to work on the lock. It was a surprise to her that the padlock hung open, the chain slack. That was odd. She grasped the door handle and it swung open with a heavy creaking sound.

The eternal torches burned brightly, the shadows of the flames reflecting and dancing on the black glossy wood of the coffin. Hermione stood silently; clutching the large bouquet and reflecting on the first time she'd laid eyes on Severus Snape.

It had been at the first years' sorting feast when Harry had noticed the Professor who was staring back at him. He'd been sitting next to Professor Quirell, and Hermione, who was not yet a real part of the trio, had heard the older Gryffindors whispering about him.

She'd thought him evil as Harry and Ron did, until the end of the first year when she began to respect him in a grudging way. He'd taken great delight in taking points from Gryffindor and in ignoring her waving hand in class.

The door to the tomb, which she'd left, standing open, slammed shut with a bang that made Hermione squeak in terror and drop the flowers. Hand clamped to her midsection, she sighed in relief when she saw it was only the door.

"Goodness," she said aloud, her voice echoing off the marbled walls, "I need to quit being so jumpy. There's nothing here that can hurt me."

Hermione used her wand to conjure a marbled vase at the foot of the dais before adding water and the cut flowers.

"I know you don't like flowers, Professor," she rambled as she busily arranged the roses. "But I think that everyone who passes should have some. At least you can't get mad at me where you are now. That is, unless your ghost comes back and Remus says that you won't have a ghost. I also know that you wouldn't like me being here and giving you flowers or sympathy."

Hermione stood up and ran her hand over the polished wood, which strangely enough, was warm to the touch.

"I didn't want to see you die, Sir. You were a hero, no matter what anyone else says. You deserved the Order of Merlin, First Class that you were never awarded. And you were a fantastic teacher. I'm going to miss you." She laid her head down, determined to stifle the sob that threatened to break loose.

The dull roaring of her ears sounded loud. Hermione wasn’t sure how long she lay with her head on the coffin, but gradually the roaring sounded like her heartbeat.

Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump.

She lifted her head, the pulse in her throat quivering.

Thump. Thump.

Slowly she backed away from the coffin, towards the door, trying to discern whether it was a noise or her own heart she heard.

Thump. Thump.

Hermione turned and ran.