Sight

Chapter 8

The rest of Christmas break was uneventful. Snape didn't come back, leading Hermione to think he had only come to tell Harry about the Occlumency lessons anyway. Sirius didn't miss his Dreamless Sleep again. With Mr. Weasley home, everyone was cheerful. Tonks and Kingsley came for Christmas dinner, but Lupin was still trying to recruit the werewolves to the Order. In other words, it was utterly boring and exactly what the trio needed. All too quickly it was time for them to return to Hogwarts. Hermione spent the whole train ride in trepidation: she had a month's detention with Severus Snape. Last time she had been alone with the man in his office, she had lost control and practically screamed at him. He would probably give her a month of skinning flobberworms, or worse. When she reported to his office in the evening, ready to scrub cauldrons without magic, he surprised her.

"You will be brewing a potion for the Madam Pomfrey today, Miss Granger. The ingredients are in the storeroom and the instructions are on the board."

She looked at the spiky handwriting adorning the board- the instructions were for Furiisque Refecti, the Reinvigoration Potion. Traditionally administered to a patient after they were revived from an unconscious state.

"Yes, sir."

It was an hour and a half before they spoke again. The potion was simmering, and would continue to do so for another 15 minutes.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

When I ask you the same question, I get a month's detention. Still, I'm not about to begrudge him the only civil thing he's done. "Quite well, thank you for asking, sir."

He nodded. When she ladled the potion into identical vials, all labeled and stoppered, and brought them to his desk, he removed one and had her put the rest in his private storeroom. He would take them over to Madam Pomfrey later.

"Is there anything else, sir?"

He held out the vial of potion. "Should you have another episode, drink this."

"I don't need-"

"Take it, Miss Granger, unless you believe the potion is substandard, in which case you will be spending another three hours brewing a fresh batch. The choice is yours, of course."

She took the potion from his hands, remembering the last time she touched him. No, Hermione, don't cry. "Thank you, Professor."

The next two weeks passed in a similar fashion, Hermione brewing while he marked essays or did research of his own. From what she heard from Harry, his Occlumency lessons were going better than any of them had dare hope. While he wasn't any good yet, at least no duels had broken out. Hermione had given him a book on Muggle meditation exercises her parents had gotten her years ago, and it was helping him relax and clear his mind a bit. The DA was living up to the Ministry's worst fears: if they wanted an army, they had one. The other day Neville had stunned Harry, and everyone had been stunned, pun intended. They'd started dueling amongst themselves for practice now, in addition to Harry teaching them. Dolores Umbridge was driving herself mad, trying to find out what they were up to, but Hogwarts had it in for her, and with the castle itself on their side, she didn't stand a chance.

With time, Severus began to have her brew more advanced potions, guided her stirring with his hands, taught her, if not to stopper death, then enough to postpone it. Another Potioneer for the Order. "You'll need the knowledge," he said. "I'll teach you how to brew the Wolfsbane for Lupin, and some Verisaterum, the rest can wait..." she had a terrible feeling he was preparing her for a time he wasn't there to do it himself, twisting around her chest and constraining her breath. Don't go.

"Can I stay?" She said the last day, still stirring the bubbling potion. "I want to learn."

He looked hesitant, as if unsure whether to open the door he had crafted.

"Please."

"I-I suppose."

There were nights when he suddenly twitched, or she simply felt something was wrong, in that unexplainable way that magical feelings work, when she would return to his rooms, dress his wounds, hold him as his muscles spasmed and he bit his lip until it bled. He never spoke; there was a silent understanding between them, the kind that could only be shared between two people who were unsure they would live to see this through, who closed their eyes every time their skin touched.

Like all good things, it was not to last.

It was when she woke up remembering nothing of her dreams but his hands, and his hair falling into her face that she made up her mind. I have to tell him, she thought. I have to. Even if he hates me for it. Someone needs to love him no matter what. She froze as the realization trickled over like a bucket of cold water, but it had been a long time coming.
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"I know." It took considerable courage to address her words to the Potions Master in front of her, but it had to be done.

"Know what exactly, Miss Granger?"

"Everything."

His obsidian eyes flashed with anger as he looked up at her from behind his desk. Hermione had been subjected to that glare many, many times in her five years at Hogwarts, but it never got any less intimidating. Great, he thinks I'm making fun of him.

"I see your obsession with being an insufferable know-it-all knows no bounds. Now kindly remove yourself from my office, since you seem to be in no state to apply yourself tonight." Clearly he hadn't understood what she meant- she wasn't surprised, she hadn't exactly been specific. Swallowing to ease the tightness in her throat, she opened her mouth-

"Now, Miss Granger."

"I know why you changed sides."

"GET OUT, GRANGER!" The sound of his voice was enough to make her jump without the fact that he had leapt to his feet, slammed the hefty Moste Potente Potions on the desk and was now gripping the sides of the desk he was resting his weight on, trembling. It was the first time she had seen him like this.

"Please, I can explain, it doesn't change anything-"

She ducked as Moste Potente Potions came flying towards her.
"OUT!"

I've ruined it all, now. Her eyes burned and her feet refused to cooperate- and then he was beside her, grabbing her arm hard enough to bruise and throwing her out the door as she snivelled, slamming the door behind him as she sank to the floor on the spot.