Triumph Out of the Bitter Taste of Ashes

Deblovesdragon -- your wish is my command. : )~ I was actually 3/4 of the way done with this chapter when your review came in, so I\'m glad it stfitsfits your wishes. lol As to whether they understand each other yet, not completely, but they\'re getting there -- not that either of them is really paying much attention to that as of yet.

Thank you *everyone* who continues to read and/or has reviewed. You all are great.


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Chapter Twenty Eight
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Hermione sighed softly, staring at the numbers that had long since started to run together in her mind. She\'d spent the last five days virtually buried in Ron and Malfoy\'s report. It was a very convenient excuse not to think about things she would rather not, and she had begun spending more and more time down in the potions classroom. Odd, really, when she thought closely about it -- which she tried not to do, it led to far too many uncomfortable questions. She could work on the report just about anywhere. The library would certainly be far more comfortable than here, the stools in the classroom not in anyway condusive to comfort.

She\'d tried the dormitory, but there, her thoughts always seemed to drift. It was too quiet there. Not that the potions classroom was any noisier, but the dorm wasn\'t *supposed* to be quiet, this room was. Somehow that made a difference. She was, simply put, more comfortable here. Why that was she couldn\'t possibly fathom -- not that she truly tried all that hard to figure it out. She did have to admit that these days she was beginning to prefer Professor Snape\'s company over any of the other professors. It was a realization that had led her to finally figuring out why it was him -- of all people -- whom she\'d pictured as her rescuer. She felt *safe* around him. That, of course, was a shock in and of itself to Hermione. Just a few short months ago, she would never even have considered it.

She shook her head at her musings. The entire world seemed to have turned upside down, not just her.

Professor McGonagall didn\'t seem to know how to act around her, veering from one end of the spectrum to the other. Sometimes she was overly solicitous -- times that made Hermione clench her teeth and fight to keep from vomiting. Other times, the older witch was distinctly uncomfortable, seeming to scramble just to hold a \'normal\' conversation with her. Those times alternately made Hermione feel guilty that she made her Head of House so uncomfortable, and angry that the blasted woman couldn\'t just hold her tongue if she didn\'t know what to say.

Madam Pomfrey, on the other hand, was steadfast in her glowing \'pride\' of Hermione. \'You are handling all of this with wonderful strength, my dear,\' she\'d said more than once, beaming at Hermione. That made Hermione\'s teeth ache. \'You really should rest more, dear.\' \'Are you sure that stack of books isn\'t too heavy?\' Every comment out of the medi-witch\'s mouth seemed designed to be both sickeningly sweet and to directly remind her of the condition she neither wanted, nor needed, any reminder of.

Flitwick, gentle soul that he was, seemed completely flustered around her, and had long since taken to simply not being near her. That was fine with Hermione most of the time. She certainly preferred his reaction to Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey, but it was still a rather pointed reminder that nothing was the same anymore . . . never would be.

Even Hagrid had changed toward her. He still treated her with utmost respect, but now, he was always so careful around her, so . . . gentle. Hagrid wasn\'t *gentle*. Caring, considerate? Very. Kind? Certainly. Gentle? No. He was hamhanded and a little rough. He couldn\'t help it. He was simply so much bigger and stronger than anyone else around him. Now, though, he never touched her at all -- much to her combined relief and heartbreak -- never pulled her into one of those nearly bone crushing hugs he was so renowned for.

Only Professor Snape seemed unchanged. Despite her earlier thoughts, he was the only one she never worried about accidental touches around. As far as her memory provided, he never touched *anyone*. He sneered much the same as he always had, derided her when -- in his opinion, which differed greatly from her own -- he thought she was getting \'above herself\'. When she was wrong about something -- a thing that happened more often than she\'d like lately -- he was quick to point it out, his words as harsh as ever.

In between those times, however, he was quiet.

Over the course of the last three days, Hermione had spent most of her work time alone, but Professor Snape had come and gone numerous times. Sometimes he glared. **Par for the course, and entirely expected,** Hermione thought with a light, snorting chuckle. Sometimes he simply ignored her presence, going about whatever business had brought him to the normally empty classroom and then leaving without a glance or word to indicate he\'d even realized she was there.

Once, he\'d approached her, stopping on the opposite side of the table where she was seated and asked how her computations were coming along. What had surprised her about it, had been the fact that he\'d asked reasonably politely. It had been . . . unexpected, rather nice, though, and she had shared her findings so far, carefully watching the prickly professor for signs that she was providing too much information -- a self-admitted fault.

\"Damn!\" she muttered, frowning sternly. \"Now, I\'ve started drifting here, too.\"

Forcing her attention back to the work at hand, Hermione had only managed to finish one more set of comparisons when the door opened. She jumped to her feet, her gaze automatically jerking toward the sound, even as her heart leapt in her chest. The reaction was over as quickly as it had come, but it was still an annoyance she could do without -- the fear that bloomed inside her every time a loud noise startled her.

Absently noting it was once again Professor Snape, Hermione returned her attention back to the parchment in front of her. It didn\'t stay there long.

\"Still here, Miss Granger?\" Professor Snape questioned drily. \"You aren\'t by any chance trying to become *Slytherin* are you?\"

Blinking over at the professor in shock, Hermione gasped. \"No!\" she exclaimed, the words out before she even thought about them, only then realizing that her vehemence could very well be taken as an insult. She blushed, even as she firmly squelched the nearly overwhelming urge to apologize. That would just make matters worse, she knew.

Professor Snape snorted, his expression . . . amused?

She narrowed her eyes. Professor Snape, amused, was never a good sign for Gryffindors -- at least not usually. In fact, it usually harolded one of them getting into very deep trouble. She lifted her chin slightly, refusing to lower her eyes. \"Something I can help you with, Professor?\" she asked, virtually daring him to saying anything.

\"Yes,\" he drawled, smirking, \"as a matter of fact, there is.\"

Hermione blinked. That was different. \"What?\" she asked warily.

\"You can put that report up and come to the great hall to eat,\" he replied firmly.

\"What?\" she asked, this time confused.

\"Eat, Miss Granger,\" Professor Snape, repeated with a sneer, \"that\'s where you sit down, put food in your mouth, chew, and--\"

\"I know what eating is, Professor!\" she snapped, drawing in a deep, calming breath immediately after. **Not a good idea to snap at Professor Snape, idiot!** she reminded herself firmly. **Even if he *is* acting like a prat.** \"I\'m not hungry, Sir,\" she continued, turning back around to face the report. \"I\'d like to get some more work done on--\"
jum jumped, gasping, when Professor Snape suddenly appeared on the other side of her table, leaning halfway across it, his clenched fists supporting his weight. \"Sit down and listen, Miss Granger,\" he growled, his face as angry as she\'d ever seen it.

Mutely, Hermione sat, swallowing against the sudden drying of her mouth and throat.

\"As much as you do not care to consider it, you are now responsible for more than just your own health--\"

\"Don\'t!\" Hermione hissed, pleading. \"Not you, too!\"

Surprise flew across the professor\'s face, but was gone almost as quickly as it had come, his expression settling into one she couldn\'t interpret. It seemed oddly controlled to her, however. The sudden silence between them stretched out to what seemed an unbearable length of time to Hermione, but couldn\'t have actually been more than a few seconds.

\"Yes, Miss Granger,\" he snarled suddenly, \"me too, as you so *eloquently* put it. By not eating properly, you are endangering both your health and the health of the child you carry. I understand that you do not--\"

\"You *don\'t* understand!\" Hermione shouted, launching to her feet, wincing as she overstretched already strained abdominal muscles. \"You can\'t *possibly*!\"

\"I understand more than you think I do, child!\" he shouted back, his expression darkening further.

\"How could you?\" Hermione sneered, her tone a remarkable imitation of the professor\'s. She winced, instinctively stepping back as Professor Snape tensed, the fists he was leaning on clenching tightly.

After a visable breath the enraged professor relaxed marginally, his expression returning to near neutrality. \"I cannot, and will not pretend to, fully understand everything about what you are experiencing, but I *do* understand what it is to hate, Hermione Granger. Hate is something I have lived with for longer than you have been *alive*. It will eat you up inside and leave you cold and bitter, and unable to feel anything else.\"

Hermione\'s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. How *dare* he? She had every *right* to her hate! She was the *victim*! She was about to tell him as much when a look of speculation danced through the professor\'s eyes, surprising her out of it. The brief flash of uncertainty that followed -- leaving too quickly to be positive of -- held her tongue and had her watching the professor warily. What *was* he thinking now?

\"I have to assume you do not . . . approve,\" he began, smirking, \"of the way I treat your friend, Mr. Potter.\"

\"Of course I don\'t,\" she retorted heatedly. **As if!** she continued silently. The sudden satisfied smirk that appeared on the professor\'s face, however, threw her. She frowned, completely puzzled.

\"In that case, Miss Granger, *you* are a hypocrite,\" he said smugly, pulling back, then smoothly spinning away from her, his robes swirling with his movements. He paused before reaching the door, turning to look at her over his shoulder. \"And by the way, 10 points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a professor,\" he said before resuming his exit.

Complete and utter shock coursed through her, momentarily freezing her in place. \"You son of a bitch!\" she exclaimed just as he reached the door, not caring about anything but her outrage just long enough for the words to slip out.

He froze, then turned ever so slowly around.

Hermione gulped. \"Oh my!\" she whispered. **I\'ve *really* done it now!**

\"Would you care to explain that remark before I put your house in the negative for the rest of the school year, Miss Granger?\" he asked, his voice silky smooth, and deceptively quiet.

Holding a very tenuous hold on her own anger, Hermione lifted her chin stubbornly. She would ride out whatever his response might be. \"The two situations are *not* even remotely the same,\" she said just as quietly.

\"And you are suddenly as omniscient as the headmaster seems to be, to know this?\" he asked snidely, his expression shuttered.

Hermione snorted. Her own sarcasm fast rising to the surface. \"I suppose your telling me that Harry\'s father raped you?\" she sneered right back. Hermione didn\'t get the reaction she expected.

\"What happened between James Potter and myself is non you your busine*Mis*Miss* Granger,\" he snapped. \"Be in the great hall in ten minutes for dinner or expect 50 points from Gryffindor,\" he continued tightly as he swept out of the room.

**I\'ll take that as a yes, Professor,** she thought in shock, on the heels of which came, **be careful what you ask, you might get an honest answer!** She had fully expected ed eed eyes and a snapped response of, \'Don\'t be ridiculous, Miss Granger.\" What she\'d gotten instead had rocked her perceptions down to her very bones.

\"Oh my God!\" Hermione whispered hoarsely into the empty room. Shaking, she dropped back onto her stool. Mechanically, she sorted and stacked her papers, carefully placing them inside her book bag. By the time she\'d finished, she\'d come to a decision. However difficult in may be, she was going to return Professor Snape\'s favor. She wouldn\'t change how she acted around him. She would not allow this new knowledge she possessed -- knowledge that really wasn\'t hers to know -- to affect her reactions to him. She owed him that much . . . at the very least.

With a deep, cleansing breath, Hermione closed the door behind her and headed for the great hall. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt better now, and as much as she wished what she\'d been through on *no one*, it felt . . . good . . . knowing that there really was someone who truly understood what she was going through.


TBC
Kiristeen
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