Walls of Jericho

Walls of Jericho

Getting Settled

Severus massaged a point on his temple where the headache seemed to be concentrated. He shifted in the uncomfortable desk chair placed in the center of Granger’s dormitory room, while the cause of his current discomfort packed a trunk with the things she swore she couldn’t be without overnight.

Overnight. In his quarters.

Severus still wasn’t sure how he ended up agreeing to this farce. Or how he ended up on the Granger’s doorstep mere hours before. Albus was to blame, of that Severus was certain. It was the only explanation for how Severus found himself standing on the Granger’s porch, waiting for the door to open.

Just when he was beginning to think that he would be spared this new torment, the door opened to reveal a tall, impeccably tailored Muggle woman.

She appeared momentarily confused at the appearance of her two guests before her lips titled into the barest hint of a smile. “Hermione? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

The smile disappeared as possible reasons for her daughter’s unexpected arrival occurred to her. “What happened? Are you all right? Harold, come quickly. Hermione’s been hurt.”

Even as noises from inside the house alerted Severus to Harold’s arrival, Granger groaned and pushed her way through the doorway, leaving him no choice but to follow.

“I’m fine, Mum. Stop making a fuss.”

Mrs. Granger seemed to grow taller as she glared down at her daughter. “I do not fuss.”

A short, round man with a receding hairline appeared and rushed toward Granger, stopping short at the sight of Severus looming behind her. “Eh, what’s this about Hermione being hurt?”

“Dad, I’m fine. There was...”

“Then why are you here, dear?” her mother interrupted. Already, Severus was finding the woman to be an irritant. “Not that it isn’t lovely to have you home, but your father and I have plans for this evening. And who is the gentleman scowling behind you?”

Mrs. Granger’s no nonsense tone vaguely reminded Severus of his school days and a memorable reprimand from Minerva for not turning in an essay on time.

“Veronica.” Harold used the word as an admonishment.

“Mum. This is Professor Snape from Hogwarts.”

“The Professor Snape? I thought you’d be different, the way Hermione was always going on about...”

“Dad!”

Severus merely arched an eyebrow at the Muggle man, refusing to show his surprise that Granger had discussed him with her parents. Different?

Veronica crossed her arms, one finger tapping against a bicep. “Why are you here, dear?”

Deciding this comedy of errors had gone on for quite long enough, Severus stepped forward to address Granger’s mother. “Mrs. Granger...”

“Doctor.”

Momentarily thrown off, Severus blinked. “Pardon?”

She gave him the sickeningly sweet smile of someone who would just as soon tell you to bugger off. “It’s Doctor Granger.”

“Mum!” Granger’s skin had an unpleasant flush of embarrassment.

“Really, dear, I did not graduate at the top of my class so that people such as your Snape with their archaic mind set could...”

“Professor Snape, mum.” There was silence as the two women locked gazes. Severus was uncomfortably aware of a battle of wills taking place. He looked to Harold, whose shrug seemed to say “What can you do?” Obviously this was something he’d witnessed countless times before.

Suddenly, as if there had been some invisible signal that only they could interpret, the women both turned to Severus.

“I could do with some tea. Professor? Harold? Hermione, if you would prepare everything, your professor can tell us what has brought you both.” With that, Veronica stiffly moved past them and through an archway leading to the lounge.

Granger stalked after her, and Severus followed at a sedate pace, just slow enough to forcibly remind her that he wasn’t about to be led around like a placid donkey. He waited until Granger’s parents had seated themselves and Granger had chosen to perch on the edge of a couch cushion to take the last remaining chair.

“Hermione? The tea.” Veronica seemed very surprised that her daughter had not done as she asked. Perhaps she wasn’t familiar with Granger’s penchant for rule breaking along side Potter and Weasley.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I can’t.”

“You can’t make tea?” Harold’s puzzled tone only made Severus want to Stupefy him all the more.

“Harold, don’t be obtuse. What are you going on about?” Listening to Granger’s mother speak, Severus had a sudden, unwanted, insight into the Muggle-born’s home life.

“Tea has nothing to do with it, dad. There was an accident during the Potions NEWT.” Granger held up her hand to forestall any questions. “I’m fine, other than a few burns that have already been seen to. The problem is that there was a side effect to the ruined potion and I’m going to have to stay at Hogwarts until it wears off or the antidote is found.”

“What side effect?” Veronica’s tone suggested she suspected Granger was contagious with the swine flu or some virulent wizard equivalent.

Oddly, Granger’s cheeks took on that heated flush again. “Professor Snape and I can’t get more than a few meters apart.” She hurried into the silence that greeted her statement by retrieving a parchment from the inner pocket of her robe and flattening it out upon the table in front of her. “I just need you to sign this so that the school knows that you are aware that I will be staying in Professor Snape’s quarters until we are cured.”

Severus closed his eyes with a pained groan. Was she trying to get me killed? Is this how she was planning on taking care of the problem, have me murdered and see if that broke the tether? Should I inform her that she’ll most likely end up dragging a corpse about and since I am the resident expert on potion mishaps...

“Daddy!”

Opening his eyes to the sight of Harold straining against his daughter’s hold, attempting – unsuccessfully, it would seem – to lung across the table, had Severus out of his chair and ready to defend himself.

“You lecherous bastard! I’ll have your job for this.”

Severus had fully expected this, yet managed to be offended nevertheless. “You have to be joking. To even suggest such a thing is an insult. The very thought is repugnant and...”

“Thank you, Professor Snape.” Granger gave her father a tiny shove back into his chair. “We aren’t the only ones affected. There are others who have to stay at the school.”

Severus and Harold continued to eye each other distrustfully.

“Are the others staying in Professor Snape’s quarters as well?” Veronica held the parchment in her hands and was reading through it as she spoke.

Perhaps one evening in the infirmary wouldn’t be too horrid. Certainly no worse than this.

“No,” Severus spoke. “They will be...”

Granger interrupted, her wide eyes trying to tell him something. “Elsewhere in the castle. It really comes down to sharing my cramped dorm room or the Professor’s much larger quarters. Where it will be much easier to establish privacy. Headmaster Dumbledore has it all figured out.”

When neither parent reached for a writing utensil, Granger sighed in defeat.

“A pen, please, Harold.”

Everyone looked at Veronica in disbelief. She held out her hand to Harold, waving it impatiently when he didn’t immediately respond.

He pulled one out of his breast pocket and reluctantly passed it to her. “I don’t think I understand, dear.”

Frankly, neither did Severus.

Veronica signed her name with a flourish and passed the pen and parchment to Harold. “Hermione’s nearly nineteen. When you were that age you had your own flat. She’s old enough to make her own decisions and if she feels this is acceptable... Sign the paper dear.”

Severus wasn’t sure who was more flabbergasted when Harold meekly signed his name – Granger or himself.

They had left shortly thereafter. Which brought him to this moment, waiting on Granger to stuff yet another book into her trunk.

“Are you nearly finished?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, the first words he’d spoken since sitting on the chair twenty minutes ago.

“Almost. I have to...” A mutinous expression clouded her face and she turned her back to him. He could tell she opened the top drawer of her dresser but he couldn’t see what she hastily wadded up and shoved into her pocket. Judging from the flush of her skin as she closed and locked the trunk and the usual contents of one’s top drawer, Severus really didn’t want to know what she’d hidden in her robes. He had no burning desire to be confronted by anyone’s unmentionables, thank you very much.

“I’m ready, Professor.”

Severus briefly considered berating her for wasting his afternoon, then realized he would much rather pretend she didn’t exist. As much as one could when tethered to an irritant such as Granger. Without a word he stood, leaving her to quickly cast a levitation charm upon her trunk and follow.

– ~ –

Hermione was not impressed by her first glimpse of her temporary living quarters.

Professor Snape had led her deep into the dungeons to a small alcove containing a dull black suit of armor with a wicked looking flail. The suit of armor had brandished its weapon threateningly as they approached, and Hermione felt her heart jump into her throat as it took a lethal swipe that narrowly missed the Professor.

It wasn’t until Snape calmly stepped forward and touched a panel on the armor’s chest that Hermione noticed the subtle pattern. The black matte finish of the armor was marred by an equally black glossy serpent coiling along the breast plate. Snape seemed to caress the scales of the snake and the suit of armor lowered the flail and stepped backward to reveal a hidden door.

After that starling build-up it was no wonder that Hermione was disappointed by the stark reality of Snape’s sparse sitting room.

The stone walls were mostly bare, broken by a large bookcase, a massive fireplace, a nondescript door and two portraits. Hermione recognized the founding father of the House of Slytherin gently snoring in a throne-like chair. The other ornate frame was empty for the moment.

Two chairs were near the fireplace, one worn and the other faded but otherwise untouched. A small table set between them.

That little used chair was where Professor Snape had instructed her to sit nearly an hour ago, with the warning that she wasn’t to utter a word.

When he’d pulled several volumes off the bookshelf and settled into the other chair, pointedly ignoring her, Hermione knew it was going to be a painfully long evening. Once again she questioned her decision. If she’d stayed in the infirmary she would have at least had the boys to talk to. Snape had only given her a small glare when she’d had the audacity to get up and pull a book of her own out of her trunk.

It had been a long, eventful day, and by the time Hermione finished her third chapter she was almost too tired to focus on the page before her.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. Can we go to bed?”

Hermione wanted to groan at her poor word choice. And, judging by the disbelieving and increasingly irritated expression on Snape’s face, he wasn’t pleased with it, either.

“To sleep, sir.” Oh, that was brilliant, Hermione, because now he knows you felt uncomfortable enough to qualify. Which means he knows you were thinking of the bed in a non-sleeping capacity, for even just a moment.

She dared to look at him again, only to find what little color Professor Snape normally had in his cheeks had disappeared completely and he looked quite ill. “Are you... are you all right, sir?”

Snape very carefully closed his book and pulled his wand. Hermione fought not to flinch. She heard him very softly whisper the levitation charm at her trunk before he turned and stiffly approached the door that she assumed led to where he slept. Hermione stood to follow and at the sounds of her movements Snape whipped his head around to fix her in his cold gaze. “You will not say another word this evening. Not a single one.”

Without waiting for a response - verbal or otherwise - Snape opened the door and stepped through, her trunk following obediently behind.

Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if there was a bed waiting in there for her. She didn’t believe the stories that Professor Snape slept in a coffin or on a bed of nails, but she was concerned that she was going to be sleeping on a cot at best or a pallet on the floor at worst. She couldn’t see the Professor giving up his bed for her comfort.

She realized she need not have worried when Snape stiffly stepped out of her way and she saw his bed chamber. It was everything his outer room wasn’t: inviting, comfortable and warm, for starters. A huge bed dominated the room, leaving just enough space for a large wardrobe, another bookcase, a small door, a fireplace, a padded bench at the foot of the bed, a small table serving as a night stand... and a second bed. This one was smaller than the first, closer to the size of her dorm bed.

Taking a step closer to it Hermione realized it was her dorm bed, complete with the duvet her grandmother had given her two birthday’s ago.

“Do shut the gaping maw you call a mouth, Miss Granger.” Snape scowled, and Hermione realized her jaw had fallen open in astonishment.

Flames sprang to life in the fireplace, and she couldn’t contain a small squeak of surprise. Snape merely snorted and finished directing her trunk to the foot of her bed, dropping the trunk unceremoniously. The flames turned green, and the Headmaster stepped out of the grate.

“Severus. Miss Granger. Thank you both for waiting; last minute arrangements in the infirmary, you know.”

Hermione hadn’t been aware they had been waiting on anything. She was tempted to glare at Professor Snape.

Dumbledore stepped forward to pat her shoulder before moving toward the beds. “Ever watched a Muggle motion picture, Severus? Fascinating things, I remember once back in... oh dear, was it the Thirties? Never mind that, I was visiting a distant relative and we decided to visit one of those motion picture theatres. I saw a delightful film about a young woman who is traveling cross country and due to unforseen circumstances she must share a room with a newspaper man.”

He turned to smile at Hermione, ignoring Snape as he pinched the bridge of his nose and made a sound not unlike a small groan. “Have you seen it, Miss Granger?”

The Headmaster didn’t wait to hear if she was familiar with the film before he produced his wand and began flicking it at the beds. Hermione couldn’t hear the words he was speaking as he kept his voice very low. A heavy blanket appeared and hovered in the small space between the two beds, much like a curtain, and a coil of rope popped into existence and stretched across the space. The blanket draped itself across the rope, which continued to hang, attached to nothing. Hermione was about to ask the Headmaster what spells he had cast to accomplish such a feat when she recognized a slight tittering noise coming from the direction of the mystifying blanket/curtain. House-elves.

“Really, Albus, are all the theatrics necessary?” The Headmaster almost looked hurt at Professor Snape’s words and Hermione wanted to tell him she appreciated the effect, really she did. Had even opened her mouth to tell him so when the older man turned toward her and winked.

“As I was saying, Severus, the escaped heiress and the newspaper man build the Walls of Jericho, which only the trumpets of the one called Joshua can blow down.” He looked quite pleased with himself. “It must have been some sort of sound-activated spell. Since we have no Joshua, much less his trumpet, our Walls will automatically appear when you enter this room and fall when the room is empty. When there are more than two of you in the room, this Wall will wait where it is. When you are alone, as you shall shortly be, the Wall will slide into place between you, ensuring your privacy. Another Wall is currently being installed in your lavatory, Severus.”

“That’s it? All that fuss about propriety and privacy and your grand scheme was a blanket?” The small vein in Professor Snape’s forehead appeared to be pulsating.

“Ingenious, isn’t it?” Dumbledore waved a hand at the fireplace, and the flames burst to life again. He pulled a handful of powder out of his pocket and threw it into the fireplace. “Try not to have to complain too dreadfully much. Miss Granger looks to be dead on her feet and could use the rest.”

He tossed the powder into the grate and called out his destination. Hermione had barely a moment to share a look of irritation with her temporary roommate before her view was obstructed by the blanket screen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N - The movie is It Happened One Night (1934). Also, I do apologize for how long this last chapter has taken. I can only offer that Real Life has been an extreme bitch lately as my excuse.