Vain Wisdom All and False Philosophy

Author’s Notes: My beta, melusin, has helped me greatly with this story and the writing.

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Chapter Eight - Ease Would Recant Vows Made in Pain

Dolohov jumped back in alarm, grasping his chest, when a body suddenly appeared by his side.

“Bloody Christ, Snape!”

Severus Snape did not require more than a fraction of a second to recover from his lengthy Apparation.

“What is taking so long?” His low voice warned Dolohov to tread very carefully.

“Macnair,” Dolohov said, fidgeting uncomfortably and turning away from Snape to look up at the small Muggle house. “He, uh, decided to take Bellatrix with him and the new recruits.” Lifting the edge of his mask, Dolohov scratched at the stubbly skin of his chin as he waited for Severus to make a move. “If anyone can get their feet wet, she can,” he laughed timidly.

Temper flaring, Snape turned to Dolohov with a disgusted expression on his face. The older man hadn’t changed. He was too much of a coward to enter the Creevey house, preferring his crouched position amidst the shrubbery.

“Imbecile!” Snape snarled. “If you knew they were going to take their time, you should have waited until they left the house before you cast the Dark Mark! Aurors will be here at any moment!”

Snape sped up the winding driveway toward the house.

Knowing that the door would be open, he pushed aside the spell-damaged wood and quickly entered the small living room. His foot slipped against the wet tiles, forcing him to grasp the stair banister to maintain his balance.

A wide trail of smeared blood streaked across the tiled fool leading into the kitchen. Wand raised, Severus followed the grotesque path. Just behind the granite counter, he spied the mangled body of a young woman lying face down in a pool of her own gore. Snape turned toward a second set of stairs next to the kitchen, but paused as a small gurgle echoed against the white walls. Snape could hardly believe that the woman could have survived such a deep laceration to her skull. He walked around the counter to get a better look.

It was his duty to ensure there were no survivors.

But, it wasn’t the woman that made the noise. There was no question that she was dead. Severus emotionlessly watched as a small toddler yanked the woman by the ear, grunting angrily when she refused to respond. When the very tiny child finally noticed Severus’ presence, he raised his hands up in the air towards him. He was too small to push himself away from his seated position underneath his mother’s embrace.

Snape’s face barely twitched in reaction.

The baby whined when the tall, dark man turned away from him and left the room, accepting that he was there to stay. The baby placed his chubby fists on either side of the woman’s mangled skull, and nuzzled his confused face in the hollow of her wet neck.

“One more time… ” Snape heard Bellatrix’s hoarse voice the moment he entered the narrow stairway.

Sobbing, laughing, gagging, shrieking; no other words were distinguishable. The various voices mingled together to form a single morbid hum.

Snape ran down the hallway toward the bedroom that held the most noise. Lifting his leg, he kicked the base of the door harshly, forcing it off its hinges.

“We’re leaving. Now,” he commanded to all in the room.

Zabini immediately rose from his seated position on the bed. Goyle looked from side to side, unsure if he should stay with Bellatrix or obey his Head of House.

“No,” Bellatrix hummed with a deranged smile on her face. “Hit him again,” she commanded a middle-aged Muggle standing in the center of the bedroom.

Face swollen from despair, the older Muggle looked down at his teenage son lying on the floor. Body bent into the fetal position, the young boy tensed, pressing his knees harder against his chest. His right hand clutched at the burnt remains of what should have been his left foot.

“No more,” the man wheezed, as he fearfully looked down at the belt in his hand.

“DO IT OR I’LL TAKE THE OTHER ONE!” Bellatrix shrieked.

The young boy cried anew as the Muggle man shakily raised the belt above his head.

“We don’t have time for this shite!” Severus barked, pointing his wand at the boy on the floor.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“NO!” Bellatrix shouted, fists clenching in the air.

Severus gave Zabini a deathly glare. Zabini slowly raised his wand to point it at the gasping Muggle.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Severus stepped aside from the door, extending his arm to point towards the staircase as he eyed Zabini and Goyle.

Both boys did not hesitate to leave.

With a rueful smile upon her lips, Bellatrix slowly walked up to Severus and placed the back of her hand against his face. He emotionlessly stood in place.

“What’s wrong?” she cooed. “Still carrying a soft spot for these creatures? Did he remind you of your filthy Muggle father?”

With a sneer on his face, Severus yanked at Bellatrix’s hand and held it in his crushing grip in front of her vision.

“Where’s Macnair?” he said in quiet frustration.

A sadistic smile spread across her face. “In the girls’ room. They’ve stopped screaming, did you notice?”

“Get him.”

Severus harshly pushed her away from him, sending her stumbling to the floor, and headed for the stairway.

*** *** ***

The teacup in Sirius’ palm rattled against the saucer as his hands shook uncontrollably. He had chosen to skip breakfast and arrive in class early to clear all the desks for today’s practical lesson, even though it could have been accomplished in a matter of seconds with magic.

I’m fooling myself. I just can’t bear to sit still at the High Table with Hermione there.

He had made up his mind; he was going to ask her the one question that had been nagging him for the past two weeks. He was not sure how she would react to it, but he trusted Hermione enough to know that she would not laugh at him or get angry. There was something in the way she looked at him when they talked that made him believe she could care about him. Maybe even love him.

She’s too young for me, he thought insecurely.

Not really, in fact she might even be too mature for you, another voice interjected.

But, there was yet another voice in his head that he wished would just go away. A voice that spoke such an honest truth that it pained him to listen. How can you be so selfish? it said. How can you expect to have any type of real relationship with your condition? You would be lucky if she didn’t run away screaming.

“No,” he grunted under his breath. Tea splattered across his hands and robes as his anger got the better of him. She would understand; he could make Hermione understand. Before he could comfort himself further, a dull sensation of growing heat pierced through his trouser pocket.

“Bloody hell!” In his irritation, he flung the cup across the room, sending fragments of broken china across the classroom floor before reaching into his pocket.

*** *** ***

“Who are you looking for?” Ginny whispered in Hermione’s ear.

Startled, Hermione’s lost her grip on her fork, sending her under the House table to retrieve it. “Um, no one.”

Arching her eyebrow, Ginny said, “Uh huh, no one? All right. You haven’t even touched your breakfast yet.”

Hermione looked down at her plate as if she couldn’t believe it was true. With a heavy sigh, she rested her elbow on the table and pushed the eggs around. Immediately upon entering the Great Hall, Hermione had noticed that Professor Snape was not present at the High Table. The second she caught herself wondering where he was, she also wondered why she suddenly cared. Of the hundreds of faces littered about the Great Hall, why did she seek out that one? When she couldn’t find that face, why did it trouble her so much?

“I flunked an Ancient Runes test,” Ginny said casually.

Hermione’s fork was under the table again. “WHAT? Oh, Merlin, Ginny, why haven’t you been studying? It’s all that sneaking around you’ve been doing late at night, isn’t it? Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I knew you were somewhat boy crazy, but this is ridiculous. As soon as I have a free period, I’m going to work out a study schedule for you, and I’ll tutor twice a week and -- this isn’t funny! What… STOP LAUGHING!”

Hermione’s tirade was cut short when Ginny lowered her head onto her shoulder, and enveloped the indignant Head Girl in a fierce hug. Dumbfounded, Hermione lightly placed her hand on Ginny’s shaking back until her giggles died down.

Head still on Hermione‘s shoulder, Ginny looked up smiling. “I missed you.”

Hermione returned the hug with equal energy.

“How can girls run on such high emotions all the time without passing out? I’ll never understand it.”

“Shut up, Ron,” said Ginny shakily.

Ron rushed to shovel more food into his mouth, rivaling Harry’s frenzy of packing books into his bag.

Harry was the first to stand, sending the others an irritated glare. “Come on, you lot. We’re going to be late!” He gave them one more glance before sprinting out of the Great Hall.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny sprinted after him, dodging various groups of students who weren’t as eager to arrive early for class. Hermione waved Ginny goodbye as she turned down the corridor leading to their first class.

“You know, Harry,” Hermione panted when she finally caught up with him, “if you put as much energy into your other subjects as you do into Defense Against the Dark Arts, you could be at the top of your class.”

“It’s a lot easier to do well in one class when you procrastinate in three others.”

“That’s a terrible approach to school work! We’re taking our NEWTs in less than eight months. You need to take all your subjects seriously. Stop rolling your eyes, Ron!”

“Must you talk like that during the one class we actually have fun in? Can’t you at least pretend this isn’t a life or death situation? Oh, look!” Ron quickly added before Hermione could retort. “The desks are cleared. This is going to be good.”

*** *** ***

“Well, that’s it for today. Uh, just read chapter six to prepare yourselves for the next lesson. Oh, no, Neville, no, no don’t pick at it! You won’t need to visit Madam Pomfrey. I assure you it will scab over and fall off by the end of the day.”

“Yeah, great,” Neville mumbled thickly as he exited the room, his palm shielding the center of his forehead.

“Um, Hermione. Excuse me, Miss Granger,” Sirius called nervously.

“Yes, sir?” She paused from loading her bag.

“Could you stay after class a few moments?”

“Of course,” she answered half-heartedly. Hermione didn’t like the idea of being late for her next class.

Ron sat back down next to her, kicking his feet up on the desk as he pulled an apple from his bag. He was halfway through devouring the fruit before he realized Sirius, Harry and Hermione were staring at him with perplexed expressions.

“What?”

“Sirius asked to see Hermione, Ron!”

“So?”

Sirius growled under his breath, briefly closing his eyes to keep from snapping. Merlin help him, the boy was still sitting there. Sirius stormed around the desk, lunging at Ron to grab hold of him by the ear.

“Ow, ow, OW!”

“Go to class!” Sirius bellowed, dragging a hunched Ron by the ear. “You’re going to be late.” Sirius yanked open the classroom door, and flung Ron out into the corridor.

Harry tried to maintain a pinched face as he walked through the door after him. But the moment he noticed Ron’s scarlet ear, he could no longer contain his laughter. He shut the door behind them.

Hermione sat expectantly in front of Sirius, who stared at the classroom door, as Ron and Harry’s voices echoed down the corridor.

“What did he go and do that for?”

Harry laughed harder.

“Shut up, Harry!”

Sirius continued to blankly stare at the door as the voices faded into an inaudible hum. Instead of interrupting his musings, Hermione decided to take the opportunity to study him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken a good look at Sirius. He had improved a bit since his stay at the Black family house; his face no longer looked skeletal and sunken in. He trimmed his light beard regularly now, and there was a faint color about his face. He tied his long hair back into a low ponytail, and wore robes that actually fitted his small frame.

Hermione raised her vision to his grey eyes and found them no longer staring at the door. They were looking at her, looking at him, with an almost wistful expression that he should have had the sense to mask.

“Don’t worry,” he lowered his eyes with a smile. “I’ll write you a note for being late.”

“Would you do that for any other student?” Hermione asked seriously.

“Excuse me?”

“If you held back another student, other than Harry, Ron or I, would you excuse them as well?”

“Well… I… It would depend on why I was holding them after class.”

“Under what conditions would you refrain from giving me a note?”

He nervously watched her scrutinize him before answering. He hated loaded questions. “If a student were being reprimanded for bad behavior or poor work, I would not excuse him. But, I would always give you a note, Hermione.”

“Oh, Sirius, that’s terrible.”

“Come again?”

Hermione rose from her seat to stand directly across from him. The disappointed look in her eyes gnawed at the fluttering in his stomach.

“Sirius, I really care about you,” she lightly placed her hand on his tense arm, “but you need to learn to separate Sirius from Professor Black. I have worked hard all six years I’ve been here, and I would hate to think that my grades were even slightly based on favoritism. That’s why I haven’t been in here after classes and on weekends like Harry and Ron. There’s a conflict of interest here, which is more obvious when you openly try to show favoritism to us. You’d get more respect from your students if you stopped trying to be their friend.”

Sirius’ eyebrows remained arched as her words sunk in. “I may act more like a friend than an authority figure, but I get respect none the less.”

“Well, of course you get respect, the class loves you. But, as a friend you are an equal and it gives them the idea that they have a right to argue with you -- to question your authority. Just look at Ron!”

“Yeah, well, he’s a special case.”

Hermione genuinely laughed. “Yeah, he always has been, too.”

Hermione and Sirius both shared a laugh, each remembering their crazy redheaded friend’s various antics. As the laugher died down, an uncomfortable silence pressed down on them. It pressed the most on Sirius, since he had asked her to stay. His every nerve throbbed to the pulse of his blood flow when Hermione stepped closer.

“How are you?”

Such a simple question had been asked of him a hundred times over, each in passing without a genuine want of a response. She was the only one who looked him straight in the eye and paused sincerely, waiting for an answer.

“Much better, I suppose.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Hermione smiled warmly. She flashed him one more genuine smile before picking up her book bag and heading towards the door.

Sirius stood there watching her, knowing that with each step she took he was losing his chance.

“Hermione, wait a moment!” Sirius ran out into the corridor just outside his classroom door. “There was one thing that I wanted to ask you. Will the Headmaster be allowing trips this year to Hogsmeade?”

“Yes. That is, they haven‘t been cancelled yet. If that’s what you mean.”

“Is it still customary for the Head Girl and Boy to patrol to make sure all the students get back safely?”

“It is,” Hermione answered slowly. “I mean, I haven’t discussed it with Ernie Macmillan yet, but both of us are expected to walk with the rest of the students.”

“Well, I was wondering… I mean, if you wouldn’t mind the company… If I could escort you.”

Hermione tilted her head to the side, biting her upper lip in thought. “I don’t know if that would be such a good idea, Sirius, bearing in mind the reservations I have about our relationship at school.”

“Trust me, Hermione, your advice means the world to me. I will try to stop and think to ensure I don’t show you such favoritism. I’ve been in the castle almost three weeks now, and I need to get some fresh air, so I’ll be going regardless. But, I would much rather have some company.” Sirius waited, his nerves on edge as she visibly pondered all this information.

“Well… all right, then.” Hermione smirked at Sirius’ attempt to hide his satisfaction.

“I do think some fresh air will be good for you,” she playfully reached behind his head to tug at his neat hair. “You’ve been looking much better since you’ve been here.”

Walking down the corridor to her next class, Hermione had the oddest sensation of someone watching her. Classes were well underway, so there was no reason for someone to be wandering about. Looking behind her one more time, Hermione intentionally turned down the wrong corridor, extending the trek to her next class.

A silent figure pressed himself behind a large stone pillar, eyeing the curly haired female as she walked by. A few moments ago, Snape had possessed no other thought than to walk straight into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to inform Black of Lupin’s next visit. But the moment the classroom door opened and a smiling Hermione Granger walked out, his first instinct was to hide. Seeing a distressed Sirius running after her, further prevented him from moving.

Snape knew full well that she was walking the wrong way to her next class, and decided against following her. He was irritated at himself for allowing Sirius to annoy him in every possible way. If he had any influence on the situation, the first Hogsmeade visit would not be as perfect as Sirius hoped it would be.

*** *** ***

Frustrated, Harry crossed out the same word, misspelling it for the third time.

“Almost done, then?” said Ron from the other side of the table.

“Not even close. This year is going to be a disaster without Hermione here all the time.”

“Tell me about it.”

Dipping his quill in the ink, Harry was relieved that Ron couldn’t tell why he was so distracted. His hand paused above the paper as a loud laugh filled the Gryffindor common room. Her laugh.

Lowering his head, Harry let his messy hair fall over his face as he looked at Ginny once more. She was sprawled on the floor with her back resting against an armchair. Every few moments, she would giggle and laugh as Seamus joked around with her. Harry guessed that they were a new item. Why else would Seamus reach out and tickle her from time to time?

It was almost an obsession to look at her now, and it made Harry nauseous every time he enjoyed it. Her fiery, straight hair stood out in the largest of crowds. He wished he could kiss the soft skin on her face again and be the object of the intoxicating glow she always had in her eyes. It was hard enough to tear his eyes away from her at meals and walks in the corridors, but it was almost impossible when she was being happy with someone else.

He loved her. He missed what they had started last year. He wanted her so desperately but he knew that he had to let her go.

Harry knew Ginny. He knew her as well as he knew Ron or Hermione. As long as Ginny fancied herself in love with Harry, she would follow him anywhere he went; to the very edge of hell, if necessary. Harry couldn’t bear the idea of his friends gladly giving up their lives to help and protect him. So he convinced himself; the less they knew, the better off everyone would be.

“Hello, Harry.”

A female body stepped in front of his vision, blocking Ginny from his view. A full chest in a tight shirt was all that he could see, distracting him from looking up. She giggled, leaning to one side and placing her hand on her hip.

“Mind if I join you?” asked Lavender.

“Sure, all right,” Harry agreed without really knowing what she was talking about.

Lavender carried her books to sit beside Harry, grinning prettily without breaking eye contact. She made a show of opening her Transfiguration book to the same page as Harry’s and placing it on the table in front of her. With a quizzical look on her face, she eyed her book once more before picking it up, closing it, and moving it to the side.

“Hello, Ron, hope you are well,” she said coolly.

Harry noticed that she never looked up from the textbook, so she didn’t catch the sickened expression on her ex-boyfriend’s face.

Ron immediately rose from the table. “It’s a bit noisy in here, don’t ya think,” he said between uncomfortable coughs. “I’ll concentrate better in our room.”

Lavender watched Ron take a few steps towards the stairs leading to the boys’ dormitory. Just as Ron was about to turn around, she leaned over Harry to reach for his Transfiguration book, bracing her hand on his thigh.

“No point in wasting table space.” She smiled as she set the book between them.

“Coming?” shouted Ron from the stairs.

Harry was so confused. He hadn’t a clue what was going on or why Lavender’s hand still rested on his thigh. “No, go ahead,” he said with a defeated tone in his voice. “I really need to finish this essay.”

Harry watched Ron roll his eyes dramatically and run up the stairs. The moment Ron was out of sight, Lavender removed her hand and got to work on her essay.

Both of them sat in silence as they worked, Lavender writing away casually, smiling to herself now and again. Harry continued to scratch out various mistakes, send wistful glimpses toward Ginny, and look nervously at Lavender. After a good twenty minutes, her presence finally got to him.

From the corner of her eye, Lavender watched Harry turn toward her and open his mouth to speak. “You know, Harry,” she turned to face him, “I’ve always wanted to tell you how much I admire you.”

Caught off guard, Harry only had enough time to blink before she continued.

“With everything, you know? All the crap you’ve had to put up with -- the reporters, the Ministry, and… You-Know-Who.”

Lavender’s eyes softened slightly before she finished.

“Wow,” Harry breathed. “I never knew you… um, thanks, Lavender.”

“No problem! Let’s get this essay done, eh?”

“All right.”

Both continued in silence once again. Harry still repeatedly glanced at Ginny, but he did not feel quite as awkward about sharing a book with Lavender. This did not go unnoticed by Lavender. Every now and then she would flip her hair to cover her smile from Harry’s sight.

*** *** ***

A couple of days later, two girls sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room as the evening passed by. Heads close together, they spoke in hushed tones until the room slowly emptied.

“You’re just going to mess it up again,” said Parvati. She whipped her long pony tail behind her back and reached for the copy of Witch Weekly on the end table.

Lavender leaned across to her, yanking the magazine from her grasp.

“No, I won’t,” she said icily.

The sudden sound of footsteps scrabbling through the portrait hole caught their attention. Ron was the first to enter the common room with a laughing Harry close behind. Harry kicked out his foot, catching Ron’s shoe in mid step. The lanky redhead’s legs tripped underneath him, and he crashed to the floor.

“Bugger… ” Ron turned over onto his back and kicked out his leg, catching an hysterical Harry by the ankle.

Lavender couldn’t help but smile as she watched the two boys wrestle on the floor.

Ginny entered shortly behind them, rolling her eyes at the sight of their flailing limbs and feet.

“Ginny!” Ron called after her. “Hurry, go and get Hermione!”

Ginny smiled knowingly, and sprinted to the Head Girl’s room.

“What’s going on?” Lavender asked her as she passed.

“Can’t tell you. Surprise,” Ginny answered dismissively.

Lavender glared at the redhead as she knocked urgently on an adjoining door.

“Hermione! Hurry up,” Ginny moaned dramatically, shooting Ron and Harry a devious smile. “Someone tied a Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes firework to one of the house-elves and it won’t stop flying around the-- ”

“WHAT!” came a scream from inside the Head Girl’s room.

The second Hermione yanked open her door, Ginny latched onto her arm, pulling her toward the portrait hole.

Lavender’s wide smile went unnoticed by the two girls as they breezed by.

“Neville, where are you!” Ron yelled as he raced out of the common room ahead of them.

“Where on earth are we going?” Hermione questioned skeptically.

“You’ll see,” Harry smiled.

“But it’s almost curfew!”

Lavender watched the group scramble back through the portrait hole. A flustered Neville ran down the dormitory stairs after them, slamming into the portrait as it closed unexpectedly against his face.

Parvati sat silently, arms crossed as she shot Lavender an ‘I told you so’ gaze.

“Shut up,” Lavender hissed, throwing the magazine at Parvati’s face. Incensed, she rose from the armchair and marched to one of the windows that had a clear view over Hogwarts’ grounds. Catching sight of Hagrid’s hut, Lavender waited, watching the thick smoke steadily rise out of the small chimney.

“See them yet?” Parvati asked in mocked sincerity.

“Yeah,” Lavender answered. She watched the happy group as they marched towards Hagrid’s hut, scarves and cloaks fluttering behind them in the steady wind.

Lavender scowled down at the scene. “Loony’s with them, can you believe that?”

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the group place Hermione directly in front of the door before pounding on it with their fists. The shadow of the massive gamekeeper appeared in the doorframe, holding out a large platter with a number of glowing candles. The group of friends turned towards Hermione, raising their hands in excitement and enveloping her in their arms.

Seething, Lavender jealously watched the scene, eyeing Hermione as she emotionally clutched at a smiling Harry. When Hermione grasped him by the face to place a loving kiss on his cheek, Lavender finally tore herself away from the window.

*** *** ***

Up in the Headmaster’s rooms, a faint blue mist slowly rose out of a large mug sitting on the end table.

Albus Dumbledore’s hand hesitated in the air for a few moments before he finally reached out and firmly grasped the cool ceramic beaker. He carefully raised the mug to his mouth, and began to take in small sips of the frothy liquid.

Taking a quick moment to catch his breath, Dumbledore turned to eye the portrait which he knew was staring at him.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” the portrait ridiculed with an insulted look on its face.

“That would be a first, Godric, now, wouldn’t it?”

Godric shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but still eyed the mug with disgust. “You’ve never heeded my warning before, why should you start now?”

“Precisely.”

“You overvalue your importance, old man!” Godric barked.

Dumbledore sighed in defeat and raised the mug to his lips once more.

“You need to speak to him.”

“Please, Godric, not this again.”

Godric’s eyebrows pinched in frustration. “If you don’t tell the boy everything soon, nothing will fall into place like you think it will!”

“Harry is hardly a boy anymore.”

“Then stop protecting him from forces you cannot control.” Godric’s voice rang low and serious through the bed chambers.

Dumbledore merely sighed again, finally finishing the contents of his cup.

“How did you convince him to return to school?” Godric asked.

“It wasn’t as difficult as you think. Harry just needed to be reminded that life should go on, now and once the battle is fought and won. Voldemort has taken so much from him, Harry refused to give him the power to impede his education as well.”

“Clever,” Godric sneered.

“I did not lie to him!”

A loud, thunderous laugh vibrated against the tapestry covered walls. Sitting in his magnificent diamond-studded chair, Godric grasped his side as he laughed sardonically. Finally calming down, he eyed the enraged old wizard. “And just, if I may ask, what do you think you have been doing this whole time? What have you been repeatedly doing every time he has left your office thinking he was finally being told the truth!”

“It should not matter,” Dumbledore spoke quietly. “None of this changes the outcome of the prophesy.”

Godric nodded knowingly. “Perhaps, but there is still the other factor you have added to that fate. You will be lucky if Harry doesn’t kill you himself when he discovers who else he must destroy --if he listens to your scheming.”

“Then,” Albus answered in a desperate and tired voice, “I hope I am not so lucky.”

Godric looked down at the older man and was reluctant to admit that he found a proud satisfaction in seeing the Headmaster’s shoulders slump as he finally accepted the harsh truth. But the school founder wasn’t finished yet.

“You know,” Godric continued, “there is always the chance that Harry will choose to ignore your wishes. He could very well decide to kill Voldemort in the same fashion he has been planning all along.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore sadly admitted, “yes, he could.”

*** *** ***

Hermione rose very early the morning of the Hogsmeade trip. After making her bed, she drew back the curtains in her window seat to let the light into her room. Hermione groaned at the sight of a deep purple sky. She longingly eyed her lush bed before finally dragging herself into the bathroom.

She wanted to go back to sleep but she had too much to do. Professor Dumbledore wanted to see her before breakfast, and Professor McGonagall wanted to see her before the trip so she could help with the permission slips.

As Hermione dressed, she tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach.

“What am I so edgy about?” she asked herself.

You’re going on a date, her mind answered.

“No, no, it’s not a date.”

Sirius asked you to escort him.

“Yes, but just as friends.”

Neither of you made that distinction.

Her stomach dropped.

Look at the dress robes you’ve put on.

Hermione’s face fell into her hands. “Oh, Merlin, what am I doing?”

The walk to Dumbledore’s office seemed longer than usual. Her every footstep echoed loudly in the corridors, immediately making her wonder how effective she would be as a spy. Four weeks had passed without any word from Dumbledore. Disappointed, she had wondered if he had given up on the idea of using her for inside information. But, her spirits had been raised once more when she found his note on her dresser the previous night.

“Swedish Fish.”

Hermione squared her shoulders as she ascended the spiral staircase. Pausing at the top step, Hermione hesitated in approaching Dumbledore’s large office door as the sound of raised voices drifted toward her. Slowly approaching it, she was about to interrupt the argument with a knock when the voices became clear.

“Tell me once and for all. Is Black here for the Dark Lord’s protection or yours?”

Recognizing Professor Snape’s harsh tone, Hermione lowered her arm and pressed her ear to the door.

“You do not need to know that information,” Dumbledore breathed tiredly.

She jerked at the sound of two hands slamming down on hard wood.

“What I need is more information! The Dark Lord is growing impatient. This would be easily solved if I simply looked into Black’s mind….”

“No, you will stay out of his thoughts. That is an order, do you understand me?”

“As if I have a choice,” Snape sneered sarcastically.

“Just continue watching Sirius’ every move from an unseen vantage point. I do not want him aware of your presence. I already have someone in mind for a more personal interaction with him.”

“Please do not tell me you are relying on the adolescent magic of an eighteen-year-old gir--”

“We are not alone,” Dumbledore interrupted loudly. “Please enter, my dear.”

Hermione winced at Dumbledore‘s instruction. Exhaling deeply, she straightened her back before opening the door.

“I apologize, Headmaster,” she said confidently. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Professor Snape snorted disbelievingly and turned to exit the office.

“If it’s all right with you, Professor Snape, I would like to finish our meeting before dinner.”

“As you wish, Headmaster.”

Walking toward each other, Hermione entering the office and Professor Snape exiting, she fought the impulse to look at him, keeping her vision on the armchair.
Determined to appear indifferent, she slightly moved aside to allow Professor Snape room to pass.

Without a pause in his step, Snape brushed past her. His arm grazed her elbow as his robes billowed against her legs. She turned to watch him close the door as a flush crept up her neck.

“Good morning, my dear.” Dumbledore gestured for her to take a seat in front of his desk.

“Good morning, Headmaster,” Hermione said as she sat down. “I really do apologize for the interruption. I did not mean to pry.”

“No harm done,” he smiled serenely at her. “This wouldn’t be the first time you have harmlessly listened outside closed doors, now, would it?”

“I… when did I…?” Did he know? There could be no way he could know, could there?

“Now,” he continued. “When will Professor McGonagall be expecting you?”

Hermione sat straighter in her chair. If he was going to let her get away with that night in number twelve, Grimmauld Place then she wasn’t going to argue.

“I need to be in the Entrance Hall in about thirty minutes.”

“Very good, that’s more than enough time.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair as he arched his fingers under his chin.

“I understand that you will be spending your Hogsmeade patrol with Professor Black?”

“Um, yes, if that is all right with you, sir.” Hermione had the oddest sensation one gets when waiting in anticipation to be scolded for misbehavior.

“Yes, of course. Professor Black came to me a few days ago to inform me of his intentions toward you.”

Hermione‘s eyes narrowed. She leaned forward slightly in her chair. “I’m sorry, I do not follow. What intentions?”

“You do remember, on the night of the Welcoming Feast, my telling you of your expectations as an Order member?”

Blind, unquestioning faith. “Yes, sir, I do.”

“Very good. Let’s just say that I am ecstatic that you have accepted Professor Black’s invitation.”

Hermione could physically feel her body sinking into the soft cushion of her chair. She did not understand why Professor Dumbledore was talking in circles instead of giving her a direct order. A direct order would feel much less problematic and sacrificial than insinuated expectations.

The Headmaster gave a small smile as he rose from his seat behind his large office desk. He slowly began his usual obsessive pacing around the room.

“Do not fret, my dear, or worry over other people’s talk.”

“Talk, sir?”

“Your outing with Professor Black is perfectly innocent, so I doubt it would spark rumors of the relationship you have with him.”

Relationship! her mind screamed.

“And if gossip should develop, or a relationship for that matter, you are of age in the wizarding world and therefore seen as perfectly capable of making your own logical decisions -- with previous thought of potential consequences. No laws will be broken here.”

Irritated, Hermione’s hands clenched at her robes on either side of her thighs to prevent herself from interrupting.

“I think you misunderstand, sir. Professor Black and I are merely enjoying the afternoon together as the friends we have always… ”

“Before you say anything further, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore interrupted, ending his pacing behind his desk. “I first must express to you my gratitude.” Dumbledore continued to maintain eye contact with her to ensure she would not interject.

He pulled out his chair to take a seat once more. “It certainly means the world to Professor Black to finally get out of the castle. There are darker forces at work here. Had he wanted to go alone, unattended, I would not have let him leave school grounds. Your interaction with him this afternoon will be the highlight since his coming here.”

“Why wouldn’t you let Professor Black go alone?”

“As one of the most intelligent students to have walked these halls, you must have noticed Professor Black’s difficulty adapting to the role of Professor. Let’s just say that I need him here more for precautionary measures than I need an adequate instructor.”

“So, Voldemort is after Sirius?” Hermione questioned hungrily.

“As I said, there are darker forces at work here -- outside the castle mostly, but also within these very walls. Hidden characters that I fear wish harm on those under my protection. You have no idea how much I will value your continued interaction with him. As vastly intelligent as you are, I am positive that if anyone could detect possible enemies of Sirius Black, it would be you.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but the stony command in Dumbledore’s expressionless face kept her silent. So, her mission was laid before her feet now, as unclear as the October sky that waited for her.

“I understand, Professor,” she said emotionlessly.

“Thank you, my dear. I knew you would.”

*** *** ***

“Well, that was quicker than I expected,” Professor McGonagall said at the Entrance Hall. She stood just outside the large oak doors, looking straight out towards the Forbidden Forest. McGonagall did not turn around as Hermione walked up, but spoke to her the moment she was at her side.

“Yes,” Hermione replied as she accepted the pile of permission slips. “There wasn’t much to discuss.”

Minerva’s face quickly turned toward her young friend. Afraid to look into Hermione’s eyes, she stared at a point beyond her. Hermione could see Minerva’s internal battle between pretending everything was all right and her need to discover what was said in the Headmaster’s office. But, all she would be able to do would be to find disapproval in the ambiguous expectations laid out at the young Gryffindor’s feet, and Hermione did not think she could handle that at the moment.

“Look into the forest, Hermione,” McGonagall instructed as she staunchly folded her hands in front of her.

Hermione turned to face the expanse of twisted dark trees on the opposite side of the school grounds.

“Tell me what you see.”

Trees. “Professor?”

“Minerva, when we are alone. Tell me what you see.”

“Brush, grass, trees, roots--”

“You’ve been deep into the forest before, haven’t you?” McGonagall interrupted.

Hermione paused in thought before answering. “Yes.”

“The deeper you went in, what immediately caught your attention?”

“The difficulty of simply walking,” Hermione answered instantly.

“Why?”

“We strayed off the path. The brush was wild.”

“Why? Why was the brush wild? What about it slowed you down?” McGonagall continued at her blank stare. “Think, Hermione.”

“It grew darker and darker the further we went in. The trees grew smaller and closer together -- suffocating almost, as if they were fighting for the tiniest amount of available sunlight. The branches were so thin and sickly. It felt like walking through a massive spider’s web.”

“Exactly,” Minerva finished, turning away from Hermione at the first sounds of approaching students thundering down the marble staircase.

Hermione waited for the wiser woman to say something more, but Minerva seemed to have finished.

With her back still facing the young Gryffindor, Minerva continued as if she never stopped talking. “One thing I have noticed, in the many years I have served this school, assisted Professor Dumbledore, and fought a never-ending threat--” she paused in contemplation before continuing. “Never mind. Just be observant, my dear. Our cause… our fight… It is with the greatest of hopes that goodness will prevail. But, the path we take to accomplish this goal is the ultimate trial. That is the real struggle before the battle.”

Minerva finally turned around to exchange a hard, pressing look with Hermione before she walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. A reply was not necessary as Hermione perfectly understood her Head of House’s warning.

“Oh, good. You’re here already.”

A stiff grin automatically forming on her face, Hermione turned toward the sound of Sirius’ voice.

“I woke up early and couldn’t stand sitting in my office any longer,” he continued. “You look lovely, Hermione.”

As Sirius placed his hand in the small of her back, Hermione allowed him to direct her into the Great Hall for breakfast.

---

Author’s Notes: Story beta’ed by the dedicated melusin.

-Chapter title take from John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Book iv. Line 96.

-You guessed correct, MistressAmortencia!

-Glad you're enjoying it, Quarter-Blooded Witch!

-Next up: The Hogsmeade visit is a day littered with mishaps and surprise meetings. Sirius attempts to take his relationship with Hermione one step further. But most importantly, the slow dance between Severus and Hermione finally comes to a head.