Hermione opened her eyes, uncertain what had woken her. Harry slept on, his head pillowed against her chest, his hands clutching at her waist in his standard post-nightmare desire to have human contact and know he was not alone.
She did not sense danger, didn't feel a mental connection to Fawkes or Castina, but there was a lingering certainty that something specific had woken her.
The whisper was right next to her ear. "Severus."
The volume was louder than it would have been for the first iteration, so the word had been repeated at least once. Since Hermione's hearing was more acute than Harry's and he the one who had actually ingested the Sleeping Draught, it had woken her and not him, and she stopped the spell before that could change. Now she just had to get out of Harry's grasp so she could answer the doo—Oh, bugger.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, it honestly had. Severus was the nearest professor, the nearest Order member, and someone she trusted implicitly now, despite how crazy Ron and Harry might think that made her. It had meant that Fawkes wouldn't have to monitor them quite so carefully.
Sending up a silent prayer, she twisted her head around so that she could see the door that she had, naturally, left open when she leapt up to come to Harry's aid. Silhouetted against the banked fire of the common room was a tall human shape.
He had evidently seen or heard her movement and grasped the completely wrong end of the stick, because he whirled away.
Without considering what she was doing, she thought a Muscle-Relaxing Charm at Harry and was able to slither out of his grasp. She bolted through the door, threw up a Silencing Charm behind her, and caught Severus with his hand reaching for the gargoyle.
"Severus!"
He turned back, his carriage stiff, his entire body radiating tension. His clothing revealed that he had come here before even stopping off in his own quarters, although the mask was not in evidence.
His voice was utterly devoid of emotion, the words chillingly formal: "I beg your pardon; I had no intention of interrupting you."
"You weren't interrupting anything," she explained hurriedly. "I was just there bec—"
"Spare me the details," he cut in impatiently. "I was under the impression that Mr Potter might be in distress. I was clearly mistaken."
"He was," she protested. "That's why I—"
"I won't trouble you further." He turned back towards the door.
"Will you let me finish a goddamned sentence!" she snarled. Warily, he turned back. "I was there because Harry was in distress."
Severus's voice was acid. "You will have to forgive me if I do not sympathize with the trials of a spoiled teenager."
Her tone was equally biting. "But will you sympathise with those who had to watch firsthand the results when Voldemort poisons children?"
His face drained of what little colour it had. "You saw—?"
"Yes. So you will have to forgive me if I offered Harry what comfort I could. Now, is there a good reason for me to wake Harry so that he can go speak to Albus with you, or is it likely that you saw everything of import?"
His voice was clipped. "You must be fully aware of the position I occupied in the night's events. That rather covers the important parts, don't you think?"
Sometimes the man absolutely infuriated her. She offered a show of support, and look where it got her.
"As you say," she therefore agreed, switching to a business-like manner. "I will let Harry sleep off the draught I gave him, and he can speak to Albus later if necessary."
"Fine," Severus agreed tersely.
He whirled for the door again, and this time she didn't try to stop him. Instead, she went back to Harry's bed and found the Gryffindor boy shifting restlessly around. With a sigh, she climbed back into bed, although this time she sat up against the headboard, knowing that sleep would be elusive for her for the rest of the night. She shifted over until she was in Harry's half of the bed and watched with a slightly pained smile as he homed right in on her body heat and settled into a more restful slumber with his head pressed against her thigh and an arm thrown across her legs.
She wished the idiot man wasn't so difficult sometimes. She hadn't even had the chance to make sure that he was all right. It had been all she could do not to offer to be there herself when he told Albus, but Severus's temper had made it clear that she'd be flayed alive even for suggesting it.
Instead, she was stuck here playing security blanket for Harry. If anybody deserved one, it was him, but this was really not the way she wanted to spend the rest of her night. If helping Severus was out, she could really have used the calm of the unicorns, and soaking up some light would surely burn away some of the sludge that she felt had seeped into her soul.
Carding her fingers gently through Harry's messy hair, she wished uselessly that she could be doing this for Severus instead. She somehow doubted that Severus's hair was as silky as Harry's, but she would put up with all the grease in the world if only that were an option to her. No matter how much he was likely to deny it, she was sure that the Slytherin needed comfort that he wasn't getting from anyone. The fact that he was clearly uninterested in getting that comfort from her was unfortunate, but it didn't change her desire to offer it.
It was almost beyond her comprehension how he could keep going back to Voldemort time after time knowing what he would have to face. He was without a doubt the bravest person she knew because Harry and Albus and the other Order members simply didn't have to put up with the horror that Severus withstood on a daily basis. She and the others were permitted to squarely align themselves with the Light, to proudly deny Voldemort, to engage in periodic pitched battles but to be able to retreat, to turn off, to take a break.
It affected them everyday, but they didn't have to spend every moment knowing that a slip could mean their lives, knowing that most of the people they were trying to save thought them cold-blooded killers and no better than the monster they pretended to serve. Severus had to do a crucial and desperately important job that forced him to participate in events like the one that she and Harry had just witnessed, and it broke her heart to think about him having to go back again and again.
She desperately wished that they knew how to kill Voldemort, that they had enough training, that they could just march out there and end this today. She was tired of Voldemort calling the shots, of Severus being at his beck and call, of the pinched faces of her classmates when friends and relatives were killed. They all carried on as best they could, but there was only so much they could take before they cracked. Severus was out there on the front lines all the time, and the thought of losing him to this war absolutely terrified her.
It was almost enough, in fact, to convince her to tell him of her feelings now; what if one of them didn't make it? Could she really live with herself if he died without knowing? Or if she passed on to that next great adventure first? Would she not want him to know the truth before it became impossible for her to impart it?
But everything had gotten so complicated since she had learnt about Pure Adults. "Just" telling him about her feelings was no longer possible. Plus she had a pretty good idea of how he'd feel about a student confessing her affection, and being laughed out of the room didn't feature terribly high on the list of things she wanted to put herself through. She didn't want him to know if all he was going to do was mock her with the knowledge.
No, she decided, her feelings would have to be one more reason for her to see that both of them came out of this war in one piece. She could … she could tell him at the victory celebration. They'd both be free then. Since it was sadly unlikely that the war was just going to up and end tomorrow, she'd probably even have graduated by then, which meant that if the situation went completely pear-shaped—as there was a good chance that a declaration of feelings to Severus Snape would do—then she wouldn't have to face him every day. But she wouldn't be a coward. She'd have told the truth.
Somehow, indefinitely dated as it was, this resolution made her feel better. She snorted at herself. Probably the indefinite future date was what was improving her mood. So much for bravery and seizing the moment. But self-preservation was important, too, and she really thought she shouldn't maximise her chances of having her heart broken in the middle of a war.
Harry woke before six, a sudden deep intake of breath indicating full wakefulness and full memories.
"Hey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Good," he answered, pushing himself off her and upright. He hastily corrected himself with a grimace, "I mean, horrible about what happened, but normally my head feels like it's about to explode after one of those trips, and right now it's just a bit achy."
"Hmm." Her head didn't hurt at all. "I always thought that was a direct result of your link to Voldemort, but maybe it's actually because you're being forced to make a type of mental connection that you're not used to and have had no practice forging willingly."
He eyed her speculatively, and his words weren't really a question: "And yet tonight I was with you, and you do have such practice."
She nodded and confirmed, "I've been in other minds, yes."
"Perhaps now would be a good time to discuss that," he suggested firmly.
What say you, bird?
Do you think he's old enough? Fawkes asked, feigning doubt.
She gave him a mental grin. I'll take that as a yes. You'll be ready to pipe in at the appropriate moment?
And the phoenix is relegated to the chorus. Sigh.
With that theatricality, I don't see why you're surprised.
He laughed. As you wish.
She adjusted her focus outward and smiled at Harry. "Now appears to be an excellent time. But perhaps showers and clothes first?"
He acquiesced, and they met twenty minutes later on the couch, where she filled him in on the details she'd heretofore left out about the summer after fifth year.
"You've been talking to Fawkes since the end of fifth year," Harry repeated.
"MindSpeaking, but yes."
"And you didn't think to mention it?"
"Has it occurred to you that it is not only my secret to share? Fawkes waited until I was seventeen, and he's done the same for you."
"I've been seventeen since the end of July."
As though she didn't know that.
"And there wasn't a pressing need for him to butt in then. You had a lot to deal with as it was."
Butt in? Excuse me, annoying girl, but I think you should stop explaining this so poorly.
From the look on Harry's face, the comment was addressed to both of them, so she reciprocated.
I had to say something that would precipitate a response, didn't I? she asked archly.
And asking nicely wasn't an option?
She shook her head, mentally as well as physically. Not nearly as fun.
"This is…." Harry cleared his throat and tried again: This is crazy.
This is MindSpeech, Hermione corrected. Magical familiars often employ this method of communication with their human companions. They can choose to communicate with other humans at need, but those humans cannot speak with them whenever they wish. You and I, on the other hand, may bother Fawkes at our leisure.
I'm so pleased you phrased it like that, Girlicorne, Fawkes contributed with mock sourness.
Girlicorne?
Fawkes doesn't tend to use real names. You'll no doubt acquire a charming one soon enough.
If he's nice to me, he'll get a good one, unlike some people.
She laughed but added seriously, All joking aside, Fawkes is here when we need him and brilliant about rendering assistance.
She explained to Harry how the phoenix had been responsible for connecting the two of their minds since humans couldn't usually do that.
It was not difficult with the two of you, Fawkes said complacently. You are very … sympathetic to one another. Compatible.
Hermione made a face. If this is the part where you tell us that we belong together, I'm never speaking to you again.
Tempting as that possibility is, he teased, the two of you know as well as I that you are not compatible in that regard. Your fates lie elsewhere.
Thank goodness, she said with a smile, and Harry grinned in clear agreement.
If it were possible, Fawkes added, I would have suggested it on first August and avoided this ordeal.
He knows—Harry muddled to a stop and redirected his query. You know about that?
And didn't even tip me off before the Order meeting, so don't feel bad, Hermione put in before Fawkes could respond.
We take Pure Adults very seriously. Hermione received an impression of long-lived magical creatures, not just phoenixes, when he said Awe". We do not speak of it before you are Adults; we would not tempt Fate. In this case, I felt you would not be alone, Berit, but there was nothing to be said before he was born. As a Pure Adult, she assumed, else that made no sense. The Order meeting served well enough to inform you of the general concept. And I know both of you well enough to trust that you weren't about to suddenly announce your status to the rest of the Order. Besides, you humans are rather touchy about the issue of virginity. Could I have casually dropped it into a conversation?
She and Harry sighed, and she admitted, I guess there wasn't much else we could have done, even if we had known.
I suppose breaking into the Ministry and stealing my scroll before it crossed Stebbins's desk and caused this whole mess wasn't really an option?
They laughed.
So, Harry asked suddenly, does this mean Hermione and I will be able to communicate like this whenever we want?
Fawkes offered a mental nod.
Harry grinned. Cool. He managed a brilliant mental image of himself with the biggest puppy dog eyes and a hopeful expression. Does this mean I can ask questions during the next Potions test?
She replied sweetly, Of course. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and she continued, But there's no saying what grade you'd get as a result of any answers I might give you during that time.
You would consider lying to me? I'm shocked, 'Mione, absolutely appalled.
They smiled at one another, but although Harry's comment had been spoken in jest, it reminded her of the events that had actually left them appalled, the topic that could not be far from any of their minds right now.
How did Albus take the news? she asked Fawkes.
Seven children and four adults. Hermione could hear Fawkes's sadness. We lost a name from the Book.
One Muggle-born, then, and ten Muggles. All worthless in Voldemort's eyes, and all sacrificed in this instance to show up Rufus Scrimgeour.
It will be in the morning's paper.
I didn't really feel like going to breakfast, anyway, Hermione said. Harry?
Count me out, he agreed quickly. The last thing I want to do is talk about this.
Thanks for the heads up. We'll be in if Albus needs us, yeah?
As you say, Berit. Boy-bird, it has been a pleasure.
Er…. Harry didn't seem to know what to make of his name. Thanks.
Hermione suspected she now had a good idea of Harry's Animagus form.
Since neither of them was yet ready to further discuss what had occurred last night, they agreed to practice instead. The privacy of their quarters seemed to be the perfect place to explore the sympathetic magic that allowed Harry's magic to pass through her shields. This was definitely a skill that could come in handy if it was reliable, so they needed to ensure that it wasn't a fluke.
A couple of hours of hard work later, they felt as though they had a pretty good understanding of it. Harry's spells could go right through her Shielding Charm as though it weren't even there, but it was a smart shield: his spell couldn't get through the shield from the other side, so no one could use Harry's spells against them. That was why they hadn't noticed anything amiss during the beginning of class.
It seemed like the most brilliant advantage ever, but Hermione thought of Neville's parents' fate, and realized that, given who they were up against, the regular limitations of the shield continued to hinder them.
Hedwig had dropped off their copy of the Prophet and reluctantly, they unrolled it, needing to know what it said. They winced. Hermione was uncertain if any attempt had been made to suppress the truth or if this had been deliberately leaked, but sprayed across the front page was a photo of Rodolphus Lestrange's handiwork, including the inflammatory sentence. Rita Skeeter had immediately linked it to the poisoning attempt that Scrimgeour had accused Voldemort of, and she had promised to get to the bottom of the mystery, already hinting at misconduct on Scrimgeour's part.
Hermione and Harry didn't bother to do more than skim the details of what was suspected to have happened; they knew better than the paper ever would. It was indeed an orphanage which had been hit. None of the names of the children had been released, but she and Harry pushed aside the horrible picture and took the time to remember the lives that had been cut so horribly short.
It was too little and sort of pitiful, but it was all they could do for these people they didn't even know. But they had to do everything they could.
Hermione drew a deep breath. "The little redhead. With pigtails and more freckles than Ron. She had dimples and looked like she smiled a lot."
Harry swallowed. "The tall boy who looked to be oldest. Who moved to the front of the line after the woman died to protect the others as long as possible."
"The girl with long blonde hair. She covered the eyes and ears of the youngest child when Voldemort used the Cruciatus."
"The little boy who had bright blue eyes that should have twinkled like Albus's."
"The girl with short black hair who stomped on Lucius Malfoy's foot even though it wouldn't stop him."
"The brown-haired girl who opened her mouth without complaint so that he wouldn't touch her."
"The brown-haired boy who clenched his jaw so tightly that Malfoy had to use a spell to get his mouth open."
"And the woman and three men who died protecting their charges."
None of them had tried to save themselves.
"We're going to stop him," Harry swore.
"Yes," Hermione agreed.
They might not know how, but they were determined to do it. They owed it to every person who had been lost to this war. These poor people hadn't even known that a war was being waged.
Despite wishing they could stay in their room and avoid this painful subject forever, Hermione and Harry pulled themselves together and emerged for lunch. They were Head Girl and Head Boy, after all; having mourned in private, they needed to appear strong for the rest of the student population. And the entirety of the wizarding world, in Harry's case. No pressure there. She often wondered how many people ever stopped and really thought about what they asked of him.
The Great Hall was crowded with more students than usual for a weekend, few having chosen to skip the meal now that the news had hit. All the professors were present, including Severus, who looked pale and tight-jawed, but Hermione supposed that this was normal for him. She wished that he'd been able to get more rest.
Harry and Hermione confirmed with everyone who asked that they knew what had happened and deplored the tragedy.
After lunch, they narrowly broke up what looked to become a giant fight just outside of the Great Hall when Terry Boot tried to attack Theodore Nott after he loudly said that he didn't see what the big deal was, it was just a bunch of dumb Muggles and useless Muggle kids who'd died. A crowd of angry students instantly formed.
Harry had the good sense to grab onto Terry and hold him back. From the white-knuckled grasp he had on Terry's arms, it was all that was preventing Harry from going for his own wand.
"Ten points from Slytherin for your lack of sympathy for fellow human beings and for making inflammatory remarks, Nott," Hermione said coolly. "Those eleven people didn't just die, they were murdered; they had done nothing, and they were marched off to death, utterly defenceless. No one deserves that."
"Except You Know Who and the Death Eaters," somebody muttered loudly from the anonymity of the crowd.
"Not the Death Eaters, and not even Voldemort," she denied. "I will always fight against them. I will defend myself and those around me. But if I were given a choice, I would imprison the Death Eaters and Voldemort and hold them accountable for their crimes."
"And then they'd break out and kill again! You don't really think they'll stop, do you?" Another anonymous question.
"So long as they do not, I shall be there to fight them."
"And she will not be alone," Harry added, and a murmur of agreement went up from the crowd, along with some mutterings that Hermione knew were not agreement.
Her response had turned into an impromptu political platform which people were accepting, rejecting, and debating for the rest of the day. Half the members of the DA dragged her and Harry off for an argument-cum-training session. Everyone wanted to know if Harry agreed with Hermione's argument or if he just wanted to kill off Voldemort and all the Death Eaters who'd personally hurt him or his family. Many people seemed content to vouchsafe the response they were certain would be his without reference to his actual opinion.
"I want peace," Harry finally declared loudly. The argument had raged back and forth with no sign of abating by dinner time. "Like Hermione said, those who have committed crimes must answer for them, but I'm not demanding that people die."
The discussion checked for a moment and then roared on louder than before.
I'm so sorry, Hermione apologized. I was just trying to prevent a fight and show them that there's a world view out there that doesn't have a brutal pecking order.
He mentally shook his head, basically having the hang of it now so that the habitual physical movement was only slight. It's what they want right now. Theories to debate means they don't have to think too hard about the bodies in the ground.
Shall we make a break for it?
Let's, he agreed promptly.
They looked around for Ron and saw that he was engrossed in a discussion with Michael Corner that involved loud words and violent hand motions. Neither was willing to step into that one. They caught Ginny's eye instead, and she nodded as they discreetly edged for the door and made good their escape. They breathed twin sighs of relief when they reached the safety of their common room.
"I probably don't want to think about how badly that's going to be garbled in the Prophet tomorrow, do I?" Harry asked.
Hermione considered briefly. "You'll be declared a pacifist."
"Hmm," Harry agreed. "I've abandoned Britain to its fate, and it's all because of my trouble-making, secretly Voldemort-supporting girlfriend…."
"I've broken your tender heart again, haven't I?"
Harry nodded with mock seriousness. "I'm afraid so, remorseless monster."
They grinned at one another. That paper really was absurd, and like Harry, Hermione didn't want to think too hard about how much their absurd statements would likely resemble the Prophet's spin on events.
Because of the disruptive events of Friday and Saturday and the continued need to show their presence at mealtimes, it wasn't until Sunday evening that Harry dug Hermione out of her pile of school texts and parchments, and she realized they had barely seen Severus and hadn't heard anything about resuming their interrupted training. But if anyone deserved a break right now, it was Severus, and their training was one of his commitments that he could forego without threat to his life.
Besides, she would be able to keep an eye on him for three hours in Potions tomorrow, and she'd scheduled some lab time for Monday evening, so that would give her a chance to talk to him privately and see how he was holding up—without, of course, couching her worry in terms that could be remotely construed as concern, because that would only offend him.
On Monday morning, Harry's pacifist leanings—which were, of course, actually all-too-transparent attempts to hide his cowardice—were blown out of the water. Someone had dug deep enough, and the secret of Pure Adults had been uncovered. It was couched in terms of incredulity, however, those "sober minds" at the Prophet unable to fathom that Scrimgeour had jeopardized his career for a myth. The newspaper, with Skeeter at the head of the pack, was quite willing to very firmly lay Friday's eleven deaths on Scrimgeour's head, and there were calls for his immediate resignation and an official inquiry.
Hermione and Harry felt as though they'd been caught in a very disconcerting eye of the storm; after the first moment of shock and relief that the secret was finally out, they'd realized that everyone appeared to have missed the crucial detail. People had followed the Prophet's lead and focussed single-mindedly not on the supposed reason why he'd done it, but on Scrimgeour's actions.
The two of them were staying well out of that debate, Harry certain that any opinion he offered would be used as a rallying point to support or condemn Scrimgeour. Given what they knew of the situation, they were privately of the opinion that Scrimgeour did hold some of the blame, but it wasn't as though he had told Voldemort to attack the orphanage or actually assisted in any way, nor was Voldemort an upstanding citizen who'd suddenly been turned to a life of crime because of one stupid statement made by the Head of the M.L.E.
Potions on Monday proved to be troubling. Severus was present, obviously, but he ignored their part of the room entirely, not checking up on their progress and not making a single snide remark. She couldn't even try to catch his eye because he did not glance in Harry and Hermione's direction even once.
Normally, he sniped at them worse than ever when he was cross, so this avoidance was difficult for her to interpret. In the lab tonight, at least, it would be impossible for him to ignore her, so she would get her answers then.
That, at least, was her firm intention. When she got to the lab at eight o'clock that evening, her thoughts were immediately derailed by the fact that her area had been completely dismantled; there was not a single trace of her equipment, supplies, or ingredients. Even the potions she had been working on appeared to be gone. They'd had an arrangement and he'd just … just been a total bastard, really, and she hadn't anticipated his doing that, not in the private lab, where he could be counted on to be reliable, if not always cordial.
She stood there, stunned and fuming, until he appeared. The fact that this had taken thirty minutes had done nothing to improve her mood.
"How dare you!" she yelled the second she saw him, too angry to consider what she was doing. "Do you have any idea what I was even working on? Why would you do this?"
He pulled himself up to his full height and positively loomed, his expression one of utter disdain. After a moment of disconcerting déjà vu, she recognized it as full Death Eater mode.
"If you fail to remember the terms of our agreement, Miss Granger, then allow me to remind you: you work around my schedule, and I find that it no longer admits for you."
"While I fail to see that anything spectacular has varied in your schedule between last week and this one," she gritted out with forced politeness, "I will concede your right to use your lab as you see fit. Since I do not, however, see that you have suddenly needed to use the entire lab since I was last here, I believe it was uncalled for to dispose of my work."
"It was in the way," he declared flatly, not giving an inch.
She bit back her immediate urge to accuse him of lying to her; she was angry, not suicidal.
"When will I be able to resume my work?" she asked as calmly as she was able.
"Not in the foreseeable future," he responded promptly.
Reciting the Elder Futhark rune alphabet in her head prevented her from getting detention for the rest of her stay at Hogwarts.
"Where would you recommend that I now brew potions?"
"You appear to have a spare bedroom in your quarters; convert that into a lab."
All thoughts of not getting detention flew out of her head. "Is that what this is about?" she said incredulously. "You won't let me use the lab because you found me and Harry in bed together?"
He sneered. "Miss Granger, the sexual exploits of my students are of absolutely no concern to me."
"I'd like to think that was the case," she spat back, not even bothered by the fact that she was not being completely truthful, "but for someone who doesn't give a damn, you're making a bloody big deal out of it!"
"Twenty points from Gryffindor for your language and tone, Miss Granger. I suggest you return to your rooms before you make it fifty."
He had never taken points from her privately before, and now that he'd done so, she realized that she had thought that he never would. Her ability to speak freely—or at least much more freely than she normally would—was a mark of their equality, of his letting her call him Severus, of their being Order members and not just teacher and student.
Rather than making her angrier, it cut the wind right out of her sails. She had been yelling at him, and she didn't suppose that was likely to get her any of the answers that she sought.
"Severus—" she began tentatively.
He lashed out instantly. "Thirty points from Gryffindor for unwarranted familiarity, Miss Granger."
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. And there it was. He had revoked the invitation to use his given name. It was a resounding slap to the face, and it told her quite clearly what he thought of her and what an idiot she was for getting her hopes up. She struggled to wipe the emotions off her face but doubted she had managed it quickly enough to prevent him from catching at least a glimpse of how stricken she was.
"I apologize, sir," she said in a voice that, to her shame, trembled slightly. She firmed it out by sheer force of will. "I won't disturb you any longer, Professor."
Clenching her jaw tightly, she told herself that she would not cry in front of him. Not looking at him again helped, and since she no longer appeared to have any possessions here, all that remained was to square her shoulders, straighten her spine, and force herself to walk at a measured pace out of the room.
She started running once she hit the corridor and didn't pause until she was in the Forbidden Forest and transformed. Castina appeared almost immediately.
Berit, what has happened? she asked in alarm. What has hurt you so?
Focussing on her inner turmoil, she tried to calm down; broadcasting her emotions in a forest full of telepathic creatures was rather rude, not to mention that it made public very personal issues.
I can't be inside right now, but I would rather not talk about it. May I run with you?
The mare regarded her intently, dark eyes seeming to see into the innermost reaches of Hermione's mind despite her Occlumency shields. Hermione braced herself for the worst.
All the herd mare pronounced after that measured moment, however, was, Of course.
They ran. Part of Hermione wanted to pick a direction and simply not stop. She'd never experimented to see how long she could stay in equine form before she felt the need to be human again and eat solid food. For all she knew, she'd be able to stay as a unicorn forever if she wished it. She had always been one to face her problems, however, not run from them, and N.E.W.T.s were coming. The thought of not taking them because she was running around as a unicorn to get away from Severus was so ludicrous, it seemed humorous to her even now.
Bit by bit, therefore, she regained her equilibrium until she didn't feel like howling, screaming, or pulling her wand and cursing Severus to kingdom come. Castina began to lead her back in a loop through the Forest so that she could meet up with the rest of the herd now that she was calmer and felt able to converse with others.
She wished that she could feel as at home in the castle as she did here in the Forest right now. She knew that was largely the disappointment of tonight talking and that usually she was happy at Hogwarts, but the thought lingered. She sighed. What she needed to do was return to the castle and remind herself of the many things that she loved about it. There would just have to be a big, gaping avoidance of all things Severus and potion-related. She'd say dungeon-related as well, but since her rooms and Harry were down there, that didn't work so well.
She thanked Castina and the rest of the herd, who were pleased that she felt better yet again after coming here to run off her human frustrations. A number of them had begun to wonder how the regular humans managed, and this made Hermione laugh and truthfully respond that at this point, she had absolutely no idea.
Despite the lateness of the hour, she carefully Masked herself. The last thing she needed was another confrontation with Severus who, despite his rudeness and horrible behaviour, remained "Severus" rather than "Professor Snape" in her head. He could force verbal compliance out of her, but her mind was her own.
She scared the hell out of Harry when she reappeared in their common room. Since the gargoyle was silent when it disappeared and reappeared, and since it gave no notice of their arrival to one another, he had no indication that she was in the room with him until he looked up and she was standing right next to him.
"Bloody buggering hell!" he exclaimed, hand clutching at his chest. "Where did you come from?"
She laughed. Harry was exactly what she needed right now.
"Sorry about that," she apologized. "I thought it would be easier to reappear in here in case anyone was lurking outside."
"But how did you just appear like that?" he demanded, frowning as he worked out his feelings. "Normally I feel when you're in the room. This time it was like you didn't come into the room at all, you were all of a sudden just here."
She nodded. "Those of above-average power can easily sense when other wizards are around. It's an instinctive knowledge and functions about the same as a Muggle catching sight of someone out of their peripheral vision or hearing slight sounds from another room, say, and therefore knowing that someone is around.
"Wizards who have enough power and sensitivity to detect their own magical cores possess the ability to prevent others from seeing it. It doesn't render you invisible, but you 'read' like a Muggle. Otherwise, even when a wizard is Disillusioned, powerful wizards know that someone is around, and really powerful or sensitive ones can learn to pinpoint the location of the core."
Harry brightened suddenly. "That's why Albus can see through Invisibility Cloaks!"
She smiled. "Exactly."
"And any minute now you're going to share this skill with me?" he prompted hopefully.
"Nah," she scoffed. "I brought it up so that I could taunt you with the knowledge which I have and you don't."
He blinked, appearing uncertain for a moment, and then he cracked a wide grin. "You sounded so serious."
"You walked right into it." She smirked. "I promised back in first year that I'd use my powers for good, not evil, so you're in luck."
He rolled his eyes but listened intently as she explained how to Mask his core. He still couldn't quite prevent himself from goggling as she practiced for him and he felt her flicker in and out of his ability to sense magically.
He was powerful enough that it didn't take him long to get the hang of it, and he amused himself for several moments with moving around the room Masked and trying to startle her with abrupt unMaskings at surprising locations.
Midnight arrived, and they were both reminded of the need to take the next dose of Veritaserum by the cold tingle of the bracelets they wore; it had been easy enough for Hermione to charm the piece of jewellery to do that on top of advising them of visitors to the school.
Harry came to perch on the couch, and Hermione went to retrieve the Veritaserum. Tonight was direct from the bottle, as they were upping the dosage. The next few minutes were of particular interest to them because this adjustment would bring them from two and three quarter drops up to three. They were about to find out if the last two months' effort had actually had the desired results.
Harry immediately opened his mouth, indicating he was prepared to go first. For a disconcerting moment, all she could see were the little children who had done this on Halloween, and her hand shook so badly that she nearly lost the whole bottle. Harry, thankfully, caught on quickly, and he offered her a reassuring smile.
"We're going to get him," he reminded her.
She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Right. This was one of the ways they were going to keep themselves safe to help them accomplish that goal. She nodded and measured out the dosage, dropping it onto Harry's tongue and then repeating the procedure on herself.
They gave it a couple minutes to be absolutely certain it had taken full effect. Since direct questions that required a yes or no answer were typically the most difficult to evade, she started there. They started on fifth year for questioning tonight, and she made sure to pick something as harmless as possible.
"Harry, did you hate Umbridge when she was teaching here?"
"Y—" His face twisted, and he succeeded in cutting his answer off and starting again. "No. I loved her. She was my favourite professor." He grinned at her, clearly pleased. "Hermione, was Defence Against the Dark Arts your favourite class in fifth year?"
Now that she had been asked a question, she understood his struggle. The pull to tell the truth was much stronger now, and she had to clench her jaw to prevent words from coming out without thought. But she found to her delight that the urge to tell the truth was not insurmountable; when she focussed carefully, she could control exactly what she said. "Of course it was," she answered with growing confidence. "Umbridge was such a spectacular professor, how could it not be?"
Although they could lie, they agreed that they wouldn't pass muster if they were actually being interrogated; it was too clear that they were struggling against the serum. Their tolerance wouldn't be useful until it allowed them to completely feign being under the influence of the potion.
That was why Hermione had scheduled their efforts on into December, not planning to let them stop until they were up to withstanding five drops, because by then, three should be a breeze. It would also mean that they would be covered against anyone who was a bit heavy-handed and didn't care much for their health, such as any and all Death Eaters. But unless Voldemort seriously didn't mind if they were inadvertently and abruptly killed instead of carefully tortured, it was unlikely anyone would try to give them two thirds again the correct dosage.
"You all right?" Harry asked as they finally prepared to call it a night.
She offered him a soft, sad smile. "No, but I'll manage. A good night's sleep will help."
"If you do want to talk," he offered.
She nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."
She retired to her bedroom but not, as it turned out, to her bed. Entering the room for the first time this evening, she discovered that there was a new door on the far wall. The window had become a little smaller to accommodate it. Curious, she went over to investigate.
What she found brought tears to her eyes. Her research had informed her that Hogwarts wasn't precisely sentient, but it was imbued with a great deal of magic, and it had been taking care of its residents for nearly a millennium. It could be especially influenced by its headmasters and also, apparently, by their familiars.
A Potions lab now led off her bedroom. Perched on one of the lab stools and propped up by the marble countertop, the first thing she did was have a good cry, both extremely touched and painfully reminded of her horrible altercation with the Potions master.
When her tears stopped, she felt mildly better and resolutely wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and set out to examine her new domain more carefully. It looked to have roughly the same amount of workspace as Severus's private lab, although this room was more rectangular than square. After a moment's attempt to work out the logistics, she accepted that the room had to be bigger on the inside than the outside because, so far as she could tell, it was otherwise taking up part of the bathroom. It was a little hard for her to wrap her brain around the fact that this room now existed behind the wall in her bedroom that housed the lovely large windows that showed the view of Hogwarts. She'd always known they were enchanted, but actually being behind them was a little odd.
The windows in this room were on the long south wall—still showing a view of the Forbidden Forest in the east—and there was a set of drawers and cupboards under them for storing equipment. They were well-stocked with cauldrons, beakers, stirring rods, and all sorts of crucial tools of the trade. Most of them didn't look new, but they all looked well cared for and in good working condition.
The short west wall had a set of empty shelves and cupboards which she assumed were for her completed potions. The main area of the room was transected by three long countertops running east to west, one each of hardwood, stainless steel, and marble. She was now assured of being able to work on the optimal surface for each potion that she prepared, thus minimizing accidents and imperfect results. The length of the counters would enable her to work on several potions at once without fear of contamination.
Running most of the length of the north wall was a fourth counter which had three large sinks and drying racks. On the right-hand side of the wall was a door which led, she discovered, to her own little storeroom. Wall-to-wall shelves were stocked with vials, bottles, bags, and boxes of neatly-labelled potion ingredients. This meant the house-elves had also been involved in this gift, and she had to sniff for a couple of minutes to get herself under control once more.
She began to gather up the ingredients and equipment she would need to remake the potions she had lost through Severus's temper tantrum.
You know I love you all, right?
I don't know what you are talking about. The phoenix had adopted a very lofty tone, but he sounded quite smug, so she knew he'd been in on it.
Thank you, she said sincerely. I was having a bit of a rough day.
Berit, every magical creature with any sort of perception knew that you were having a rough day.
But I never stopped Occluding, she protested. She'd realized when she saw Castina that there'd been some emotional leakage, but surely it hadn't been that bad?
She could sense his search for the proper words before he began, Think of it like a light spectrum, Girlicorne. There is a whole upper and lower range that is not part of the visible spectrum to humans, like x-rays and infrared light.
She nodded, deciding that there was no point in asking why he knew about Muggle physics. He was an immortal creature. Why not?
It is the same with the mind, Fawkes continued. Most humans have no access to one another's minds; their range is nil. Humans who know how to perform Legilimency 'see' within a limited range; those who learn to Occlude learn how to block off those ranges from others' sight. Magical creatures have varying access to a wider range. That's why Crookshanks is such a good judge of character; your emotions register within the range we can see. Your ability to speak to me and hear me is in that upper range, which is why you can still do so even while Occluding. Your … Purity is in that upper range.
She stopped short halfway between the storeroom and the countertop, a jar of dittany clutched in her hands.
What? she demanded. I have something that you recognize as Pure magic that is visible to everyone and you haven't said?
Not visible to everyone, he protested. Only to magical creatures like me. I told you I knew you were a Pure Adult.
But you're absolutely one hundred percent certain that no human could ever work out a way to see it? You're certain Harry and I aren't in any danger?
He was silent a moment too long.
You'll teach me how to Mask it. She didn't put it in the form of a question.
He sighed. When you Mask your core, you Mask everything across my range of sight as well as any human's. I will help you refine that so your basic core will still be visible but the rest won't.
She realized why he was reluctant.
You won't be able to see me as easily.
It is useful to be able to keep an eye on you. But I would not put either of you in danger. Finish your potions tonight and you and Boy-bird can begin practicing with me tomorrow evening.
She consented to this plan and got to work on her brewing. It was nearly four in the morning before she had everything cleaned up again. She managed a couple of hours' sleep before she and Harry got up at six for their morning sparring session.
Harry was going to be spending the rest of the day in homework catch up, or so he told her, as he had not been as diligent as she over the weekend. If Ron got a hold of him, she doubted this would actually happen, but that was on his head; she would be in Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies.
That evening, Harry made the mistake of asking if she'd heard anything about their next training session with Severus, but he backed right off at the look on her face. From the expression that followed on his, he'd worked out a partially accurate reason for why she had been so upset yesterday.
There was no way she was going to approach the man with a non-academic topic. If he wanted to train them, he would have to come tell them so himself.
She was relieved to see that the fifty-point loss she had accrued on Monday evening was made up on Tuesday. She had no idea who had pleased which professor, but she was grateful that it was now unlikely anyone would be trying to work out who had blundered the day before. This wasn't a topic she wanted to speak about with Harry, let alone air before Gryffindor House in general.
Three days passed with complete silence from Severus, suggesting that her new resolution of not initiating contact was going to result in no more sessions for them. She told herself that she didn't care. She and Harry continued their own training, and Fawkes had kept up his end of the bargain, allowing them to better protect themselves from a mental and magical standpoint.
By Friday's edition, someone at the Prophet had done their homework or greased the right palms properly. The news of Scrimgeour's suspension pending a full investigation was overshadowed. The existence of the orange-proof scrolls had been revealed to the world at large; the Prophet had become an official believer, and the hunt for the Pure Adults was about to begin in earnest.