Three Point Match, No Doubling

Christmas morning dawned brightly in the London suburbs



Christmas morning dawned brightly in the London
suburbs.  Hermione groaned and
rolled over to face the wall, trying to block out the blinding rays streaming
in her window.  She snuggled deep
into her covers and let her mind drift to the place it had been traveling to
often.  The image of her Potions
Master grew clearer before her eyes and soon she was asleep again, dreaming of
Hogwarts and a man in black.


 


At the castle, Severus was in almost the exact sameposiposition.  In his four-poster he
lay on his back and allowed the vision of Hermione Granger to swim in front of
him.  Ever since she had left the
castle,had had alternated between dreaming of her aentaentally flogging
himself for dreaming of her.  His
life had been hell.  Hermione was
miles away from him, settled in with her Muggle family, celebrating the
holiday, and not thinking of him at all. 
He was sure of it.


 


“The
holiday!”  How could he have forgotten?  Severus was out of bed in a flash and throwing his window
wide.  He called his raven with a
shrill whistle, while he searched through a dresser drawer and with a wide
smile, pulled out a small, velvet box.  In
a few minutes, the raven swooped through the snow-covered valleys, en
route to London, his cargo secured to his leg.


 


As the snow was replaced by a misty rain, the raven
noticed a white owl and immediately recognized it as Harry Potter’s
familiar.  He slowed down a bit
and was met with a hoot of “hello”.  With
a brief nod of acknowledgment to the white bird, the raven continued on its
course.  “Gryffindors!”
the raven thought with disgust.


 


By this time, Hermione was settled in the living room
with her parents.  She was
surrounded by gifts, some hem hem from her family and some from her friends.


 


 


They had arrived that morning, shrunken down, by
Hedwig.  Hermione had been happy
to see Harry’s bird and sent it off with an extra treat,  payment to the loyal familiar for an extra side-trip. 



 




There were the typical gifts from her parents. 
Socks, underwear (yucky, “granny pants”!), and clothing. 
Also, this year her parents bought her a laptop computer. 
She had begun to expect the extravagant Muggle gadgets from her
parents.  She knew that they hoped
they could hook her with the electronic toys most girls her age loved. 
They just didn’t understand that the things she could “play” with
in the wizarding world were, by far, the best “toys.”


 


There also a p a package from Ginny, one from Neville,
and a small box from Harry.  She
saved Harry’s for last and couldn’t smother her sharp intake of breath
when she opened it.  Inside was a
silver locket with a Griffin etched on the front.  She lifted it from the box by the long chain it was attached
to and examined it closely, looking for the latch.  When, finally, it sprung open her breathing stopped for a
moment.  Along with the return of
oxygen to her system, came tears to her eyes. 
Inside the locket wamuggmuggle photo of Harry, Ron, and her.  It had been taken on the Hogwarts Express on the trip home
last Christmas.  Colin had been
bouncing from compartment to compartment, his annoying camera in tow. 
When they politely posed for their younger housemate, they hadn’t
realized that it would be the last picture of the three of them together.


 


The next April, Ron had died in the final battle. 
In a gallant show of findfindor bravery, he had sacrificed his own life
to distract the Dark Lord.  The
second or two that it took Voldemort to utter the killing curse was all Harry
and Severus had needed to blast the demon to hell.


 


Hermione had watched it happen from a distance. 
She was battling with the Death Eaters and too far away to lend any
assistance.  By the time she
reached Ron’s side, his body was already cooling. 
There had been nothing she could do but hold her friend’s lifeless
body and rock.  They had been
everything toh oth other; enemies, friends and lovers.


 


At the beginning of their first year, they had
disliked each other.  The mutual
animosity fell just short of hatred.  It
didn’t last long, though.  Following
the episode with the troll, she quickly became best fri wit with both Ron and
Harry.  Then, one rainy aold old
night in the fall of their sixth year they stepped over the line. It had
happened in an empty classroom, in a hurried and fumbling encounter. 
They became “more than friends”. 
It only took a few such episodes to convince them they had made a
mistake and after a few tears on both their parts, they decided to take a step
back and try to regain their prior platonic relationship.


 


Things had just started to feel riggaingain. And in a
flash of green flame, it was all gone.


 


Her parents didn’t understand the tears. 
Their questions were answered with what they viewed as a typical
teenage shrug.   Many of the
things that had happened in her life she had not been able to share with
them.(She had not been able to share so many of the things that had happened
in her life with them.)   If
they had known the danger she haen pen placed in time and time again, they
would not have understood.  They
would have removed her from Hogwarts immediately and her life as she knew it
would have been over.


 


“Hermione, it’s another one of those damned
birds.”  Her father’s annoyed
voice intruded on her memories.  Hermione
looked up to see a raven tap-tapping at the bay window.


 




She slipped the silver chain around her neck and ran
to the front door, pausing to grab a bit of toast from the tray sitting on the
coffee table.  She carefully
untied a tiny package and gave the bird it’s due, before sending it back out
into the rainy late-morning sky. 


 


Hermione returned to the living room, catching a bit
of her parents’ conversation.  “…why
they can’t use the post like normal people is beyond me,” her mother said.


 


Her father answered back, “Well, a few more months
and this li ‘ex ‘experiment’ will be over. 
She’ll be settled, hopefully at Cambridge, and we’ll have our
daughter back.”


 


Hermione took a deep breath and slipped the tiny box
into the pocket of her robe.  This
would be as good a time as any to speak to her family about the future.


 


At the castle, thtiontions Master was sitting by the
fire, sulking.  Above him, the
staff that remained at Hogwarts would be sharing a large Holiday brunch. 
He hadn’t attended the traditional meal in many years and knew his
presence was not missed.  Still, he wished that, somehow, he could muster the courage
to join them.  The tap of a beak
to a window high on his chamber wall shook him from his gloom. 
With a scowl he saw Potter’s familiar waving its wings excitedly. 
From where he sat, a flick of his wand threw the window wide and
allowed the owl its entrance.  He
removed the tiny package from its leg and muttered, “There are some bacon
crumbs on the plate over there.”


 


“Engorgio” The box in his lap expanded and he
could see it was wrapped in gaudy, muggle Christmas paper.  An envelope was attached to the top.  He started with the card, a typical, glittery, store-bought
atrocity.  Inside was Hermione’s
neat script.


 


Professor,


I
knew this card would be amusing with its typical muggle sentimentality. 
I hope it brought a smile to your face.


 


The
square box is another little muggle “treasure” that I couldn’t resist.


 


The
flat box is your true present and I hope you think of me when you use it.


 


Happy
Christmas!


 


Hermione
Granger


 




Severus carefully lay the card aside, mentally noting
that he would have to add it to the small box of personal treasures under his
bed.  He began with the flat box. 
Once again wrapped in cheap paper, this time shining gold Mylar. 
He chuckled as he tore open the seams, picturing Hermione as she was
wrapping, “Oh, yes, this is perfect. 
It’s got to be the most horrendous wrapping ever made. 
Should annoy the bat spectacularly?”


 


His smile changed to confusion and wonder as he viewed
the box within.  The name of an
expensive wizarding store was written across the black box in gilt. 
His hands shook just slightly as he lifted the hinged lid. 
Inside, nestled in a dark-green satin lining, was a phoenix feather
quill.  First a smile lit up his face, only to be replaced by a heavy
sorrow.  He realized that in terms
of a student’s money, this must have cost her a fortune. He couldn’t
understand why she felt the need to spend so many Galleons on him.


 


With a sigh, he set the quill on top of the card and
turned to the next wrapped box.  Inside
was a white cardboard with the name Clinton’s stamped on the top. 
He pulled out a tissue paper-wrapped mug and when he tore through the
sue,sue, his laughter could be heard throughout the dungeons. 
Painted on the mug were the words, “Worlds Greatest Teacher.”


 


In muggle London, the Granger household was
experiencing a not so happy holiday.  Hermione’s
father was trying hard to control his temper. 
“Why do you insist on continuing with this lifestyle? 
Cambridge is the finest university in the country. 
With a degree from there, you’re assured of having a well-paying
job.”


 


Her mother just sat, looking stricken, beside her
father and was silent.


 


“Dad, Mum, why can’t you understand? 
This isn’t a ‘lifestyle.’ This is my LIFE. 
I am a witch.  I’ll never
be anything other than a witch.  I
didn’t choose this life. It chose me.  Returning
to this world wouldn’t change what I am. 
I will always be able to do magic. 
I won’t ‘just forget’ it.  My
decision has been made.   I
can’t expect you to agree with it.  I
can only hope that you won’t hate me for it.”


 


Hermione’s words shook her mother from her shock. 
“Oh, Hermione.  We
won’t ever hate you.”


 


Gruffly, her father nodded his head. 
“You will always be our daughter and have a place in this house. 
But, I cannot and will not support this endeavor. 
If you insist on attending another magic school, you will have to do so
on your own.  Your tuition at
Hogwarts is paid through the end of the year. 
You’ll need to see to your own finances after that.”


 


“I expected that, Daddy, and I do understand. 
Somehow, I’ll manage.  And
someday, I still hope you’ll understand. I’ll go get changed. 
Grandma and Grandpa will be here soon.”


 



Hermione left the room before the tears filling her
eyes could overflow.  In her room,
she cried quietly as she began to change her clothing.  She tossed her robe on a chair, only to have it slide off and
hit the floor wi sma small, muffled thump. 
She had forgotten about the package in her pocket.


 


Picking up her wand from her dresser, she removed the
small box.  “Engorgio.”


 


It was a small velvet-covered jeweler’s box, with a
simple green ribbon tied around it.  A
small rolled parchment had accompanied it. 

 


Miss
Granger,


 


I
hope your holidays have been satisfactory thus far.


 


This
is just a little reminder that we have an appointment on the evening you return
to school.


 


SS


 


She slipped the parchment into her jewelry box on her
dresser before opening the lid.


 


Inside was a fine gold chain. 
Dangling from it was two golden dice. 
Carefully, she pulled the necklace from its box and examined it. 
Glittering on every side, the dice were encrusted with tiny emeralds for
dots.


 


At the holiday meal, her mother commented on her new
necklace.  Blushing slightly,
Hermione only replied that it had come from a friend. 
The rest of the evening was spent with Hermione carefully dodging her
mother and grandmother’s prodding questions. 

 


In bed that night, she lay staring at the golden dice
sitting on her night stand.  The
emeralds shone in the moonlight.  “Only
two more weeks.”


 


On the grounds of Hogwarts, the Potions Master trudged
through the snow, retracing, again, the path he had traveled with Hermione weeks
before.  His thoughts were filled
with her.  His mind was struggling
to make physical connections where there were none. 
His fingers remembered the feel of her small hand in his. He was sure he
was smelling the floral scent of her perfume drifting through the frigid air. 
He could swear he felt the softness of her lips on his cheek. 
Through all of the physical and emotional longing, Severus still had that
small, but loud, voice in the back of his head screaming at him, “She’s a
STUDENT!”


 


Above him, the Headmaster once again was watching. 
“You have two more weeks, Severus. 
Two more weeks.”