Morpheus' Charm

Morpheus' Charm

By Hellios

A/N: Thanks to Severuslave for beta reading

Chapter 7 – Discoveries

The memo came flying out of the fireplace he never used. Severus Snape was on his third cup of coffee and still not feeling ready to cope with the world at large when the little note flapped past him and deposited itself on a rare stretch of unoccupied table.

Snape grunted sourly and took another sip of the lukewarm brew. Only the staff used the Floo network of Hogwarts to send correspondence and he'd be damned if he was going to let some insignificant little gripe ruin his relatively free Saturday morning. He shifted on his laboratory stool and turned his back to the note, pointedly ignoring it.

The memo began to create a racket over the steady hiss of gently brewing cauldrons, flapping its sides together erratically. Snape gave a dramatic sigh, despite the lack of audience, and leaned over to pluck the twittering note off the table. Obviously the person who had sent it had placed a persistence charm on the blasted thing. If he left it to its own devices, no doubt it would begin to wreak havoc upon his personal belongings.

Opening the note, he immediately placed the cramped, meticulous scrawl as belonging to the current Headmistress. He resisted the urge to drown it in his coffee out of irritation. McGonagall wished his presence in her office at his earliest convenience. In other words, he'd better be there right now or else. Why was it that everyone insisted on interfering with his life? He hadn't even had time yet to consider what he should do with Malfoy's ominous contract, and who knew what kind of dark spells would be unleashed from that dubious roll of parchment should he leave it alone for too long.

Snape sighed again and placed his cup on top of a pile of books while he tried to gather his wits. Although he'd slept deeply, he felt as if he'd hardly closed his eyes, and he'd woken abruptly with a deep feeling of frustration. His usual irritation with life was amplified foldfold and he wished he could tell the lot of them to bugger off. At this very moment, he wished nothing more than to retreat to his potions, which were sorely neglected, and spend an entire blissful day wrapped up in the brewing process. Perhaps he could even produce something more useful than the normal school supplies that were required of him.

Instead, forever destined to follow where others must lead, Snape stood and stalked towards the door. He'd be damned if he'd use the blasted Floo to get to McGonagall's office. The only reason he hadn't boarded it up was because he was forbidden to.

~~~

Hermione felt a rush as she watched him leave. Her legs were beginning to cramp and she hurriedly shushed Ron from making his umpteenth complaint when the Potions Master swept past them in a cloud. The jolt it gave her as his robe almost brushed at their feet was electric, and for a second she thought that they had been discovered. Snape didn't flinch, however, as he rushed down the dank corridor like a devil was on his heels.

“Hermione...” Ron whispered in her ear after a moment. He was crouched behind her under Harry's invisibility cloak.

“Er, yes,” she said, then stretched her limbs carefully as she stood upright and divested herself of the cloak. She turned back to Ron who was still hidden from view and whispered, “Now, you stay here – let me know when he returns.”

“Remind me why we're doing this, again?” Ron said uneasily.

“I told you,” she said, her frustration mounting, “there could be information we need here. Maybe something that will shed light on Dumbledore's sacrifice.”

“Yeah,” Ron grouched. “And you still haven't told me how you came to this conclusion.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “Trust me, Ron. We don't have time to go into it – he could return at any moment.”

“Go on, then,” Ron whispered. “But I'm giving you five minutes, whether he's back or not.”

Hermione nodded in the general direction of her friend, grateful that he had agreed to her little scheme without too many questions. That's part of what endeared him to her – the fact that he trusted her ability to make a decision.

She turned, wand at the ready, and reached for the door that would lead her into Snape's rooms. No doubt it would be warded against intruders, but she wasn't the best in her year at Arithmancy for nothing. Several charms and half a minute later, the door swung open and revealed the room behind it.

At her back, she heard Ron whistle appreciatively. “If I ever want to go into a life of crime, I'll know who to turn to,” he whispered. “You've got five minutes, Hermione.”

Stepping over the threshold and into Snape's private quarters for the first time, Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. The round room was exactly as she had seen it in her dream except this time it was real and every ordinary detail hit her with such clarity, that she was overwhelmed. This was where he lived, where he continued his life away from the judgemental eyes of staff and students. It struck her tthe the man she had been toying with in his dreams was very real.

Hermione picked up a book that had been haphazardly placed on the edge of a bench. The cover was worn and the pages falling out as if it had been read over and over. She stroked her fingers along its old velvet cover, tracing the gold-leaf lettering that was its title - The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien. Hermione blinked in surprise. She couldn't imagine her sour Professor reading a Muggle children's bookarefarefully, she opened it and read the faded inscription inside, written in an artistic, flowing hand:



L.E. - Lilly Evans. Harry's mum. Hermione snapped the book shut as if it had burned her. Riffling through his dreams was one thing, but this... This was too private. She placed it gently back in its place and wondered at the wisdom of her current actions. The man she was dealing with had a history, reasons, motives, personal thoughts, desires and emotions – and she knew nothing about him. To her he was simply Professor Snape, another teacher and a sadistic one at that. Or he was the strange and sensual man from the dreams who more or less looked like Snape but hardly sounded like him. She had no idea who he really was.

She looked around the cluttered room and wondered where she should even start on her search. Despite her doubts, she was determined to go through with this – Harry's life depended on it, after all. Hermione tramped down her conscience with that thought. The ends may not justify the means, but she'd already crossed that line by stepping into Snape's dreams. There was no turning back.

~~~

“Some tea, Severus?” Headmistress McGonagall asked through pinched lips. Her expression as she reached for the pot on her desk was as severe as ever it was since she had taken over the burden of running Hogwarts.

Snape shuddered and shook his head. He liked his coffee strong and black, but Minerva's tea would put hair on a virgin's chest.

“If you please. Perhaps we should dispense with pleasantries and continue to the reason why I requested to see you this morning, when we all kI haI have better things to do.” McGonagall gave him a stern look over the tops of her spectacles. Most students would have quailed under that withering stare, but Snape wasn't a student, nor was he known to quail. He had faced the Dark Lord with a steady hand.

He matched Minerva's look with a deadly one of his own and said, “I, too, have other, more welcoming, activities to pursue, Headmistress. Yet I find myself compelled to obey your summons.”

“Compelled, Severus? I did not think that was possible.”

Letting the remark slide past him, Snape leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him. He would wait for her to show her cards before he was prepared to reveal any of his own. He tried not to think that she might have gained a whiff of his rendezvous with Malfoy.

“Very well,” Minerva continued. She leaned forward, turning up the severity of her look several notches. “To say that I am at my wits end with you, is an understatement. I have tried, Hecate knows, to accommodate you as far as possible, but I cannot ignore this any longer.” She reached for one of the many rolls of parchment that were stacked on her desk. “Do you know what this is, Severus?”

“Obviously not, or you wouldn't have asked me,” he sneered.

“It is a letter from a parent. They are all letters from parents,” Minerva threw the roll back onto the pile in frustration, “and do you know what they all say? They say that you are a known Death Eater, that you should be convicted as such, and that they will not tolerate you teaching their children.”

Snape shrugged. “I cannot personally stem the tide of opinion against me.”

“Do you know how many howlers I've received in the last few months regarding you?”

“No, but I can hazard a guess if you'd like...”

“Severus, you fail to see the severity of the situation I am in. Hogwarts' very reputation as a safe haven for students is threatened. Why, just the other the day the Parkinson's threatened to remove their daughters. They are very big contributors, Severus. The Board of Directors has put me in an extremely nasty position.”

“I see,” Snape muttered, non-committally.

McGonagall was becoming more and more agitated. She shuffled the papers around on her desk. “No, I don't think you do see. It pains me very much. I consider you a friend, Severus, and hate that your name is tarnished by such gossip and sheer lies. But, you have to admit that you have done nothing to help the situation.”

“They are not lies, Headmistress,” Snape said evenly. “I was very much a Death Eater.”

“But you were on our side,” she hissed. “I can't understand why you refuse to defend yourself against these accusations. Some people are even saying that you had a hand in Albus' death.”

“Once again,” Snape spread his hands in acquiescence. “They are correct. I cannot defend myself against the truth.”

Minerva sighed and shook her head. “That is codswallop, and you know it. You do realise that I am forced to do what I do not wish to. Already my authority here hangs on by a thread. We do not need another Ministry official running Hogwarts.”

Snape nodded abruptly. “I will, of course, be gone by Monday. Thank you for your time, Headmistress.” He started to rise when Minerva reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Oh, sit down, you foolish man. I'm not forcing you to leave the school. I would never do that. This is your home as much as it is mine. I'm talking about suspending your classes until this whole mess blows over.”

With a surly twist of his lips, Snape said, “and what else am I supposed to do? Rot in the bloody dungeon?”

“Work with me on this, Severus,” Minerva said stiffly. “You will still have to make potions for the infirmary among other things, as well as provide sufficient written work to keep your classes occupied.” He glared at her under furrowed brows and she shook her head. “This is the best solution I can think of at present. I would appreciate your cooperation on this matter.”

“No doubt, I do not have a choice.” Severus clamped his mouth into a thin line.

“You could use your time to help the Order,” Minerva said carefully. He hardened himself against her searching expression. “We need you.”

“It is very obvious that you do not. Now, if we are done here, I would like to return to my dungeon.” He wasn't entirely disappointed to give up his lessons. A holiday would certainly be welcome, but he'd rather cut off his own arm than admit that to Minerva. Besides, he was a little relieved to know that this had nothing to do with Malfoy at all. He was used to suffering the effects of the rumour mill, although he had his ideas as to who had put the Parkinsons up to making such a fuss.

“In a little bit, Severus,” Minerva said. “But before you leave, there is someone else who wishes to speak to you.” She turned and nodded towards a shadowed corner, and a familiar old man stepped into the room.

Snape jerked back, shocked. “You!”

“Yes,” s,” said the barkeeper of the Hogs Head.

“I doubt you have been formally introduced,” Minerva's eyes sparkled a little at the expression on Snape's face, “Severus, this is Aberforth Dumbledore.”