Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures

by Iva1201

Chapter 1: The Headmaster's Christmas

Disclaimer/Author's Note: Nothing mine, though I wish the last book was and I could change its outcome and the many things I didn’t like in it. (-:

This fic is my try to include Professor Snape to DH – I am pretty sure that I was not the only one disappointed with his absence from the major part of that book.

Chapter 1 was betaed by JamesLuver. THANK YOU! (-:

Enjoy!

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Motto:

"There is someone there. Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes."

(Hermione Granger to Harry Potter, Christmas Night 1997, graveyard in Godric's Hollow)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 270

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Christmas Eve 1997

The dark greasy curtain of hair and black woollen cloak covered in fresh snowflakes, Severus Snape, the acting Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, entered the circular office of his predecessors. He brushed the snow off as far as it hadn't melted yet and taking off his heavy outer robes, he sneered at the portraits joyfully decorated with holly and mistletoe and armed with goblets full of Christmas punch. Christmas, he smirked with disgust, as if there’s anything to celebrate!

The dark man threw his cloak on the chair in front of the fireplace, helped himself to a glass of spirit and took seat in the Headmaster's chair. For a while, Snape simply nursed the drink, his eyes absent; then, a voice addressed him from behind, interrupting his musing: "Have you visited her again, Severus?" Dumbledore's portrait asked, sounding sincerely interested.

"As if you would care," the younger man uttered unpleasantly, staring into the amber liquid.

Dumbledore smiled sadly: "As much as you refuse to believe it, Severus, I do care."

Snape's head jerked up in annoyance and the younger wizard turned and angrily eyed the portrait. "You are perfectly right, Dumbledore. I don't believe you," the Slytherin said, his voice icy.

Albus Dumbledore's portrait regretfully nodded and for a while, silence took over in the room. Snape's eyes were fixed at his half-empty glass when he finally started to speak again. "He… Potter… was there… with the Granger girl, I believe. Reckless as ever -" Snape scowled "- marching there with the whole parade when the cemetery may very well be watched!"

"You went there as well, Severus – and not for the first time," Dumbledore reminded the younger man. "It's not perfectly safe for you either."

"Maybe," Snape replied in a low, dark voice. "But I am not the currently most searched for wizard in Britain…"

"…and Lord Voldemort knows well about your affection to Lily Potter," Dumbledore added quietly. "While you never allowed the Order to be given the same information."

"Don't you dare to pretend you regret it, old man! At the end, it played in your cards!" Snape snapped at the portrait and took a hearty sip from his glass. Then, hesitating slightly, the younger man continued, his voice gradually growing enraged: "The boy will get himself killed before he even has the chance to get a glimpse of the Dark Lord again if this goes on, Dumbledore! I told you this was not going to work!" Snape stood up, hitting the desk in front of him with his glass and began pacing the room, his eyes shooting daggers at Dumbledore's cheerful face whenever his eyes turned in the portrait's direction.

"I told you that the boy would need some adult to assist him! But no, you simply refused to listen to me!" Snape shook his head in angry disbelief. "I will not deny Granger is very gifted and Weasley faithful beyond the grave, Dumbledore, but what do any of them – Potter included – know about leading a war? Do you know they shouted their real names at each other in the graveyard tonight? What does it help that they look differently or wear the damned cloak then? And what the hell is this constant use of Polyjuice supposed to mean, anyway? Does at least the Granger girl not know that in these amounts the draught is poisonous? Not deadly, mind you, but still unpleasant enough for them to want to avoid using it – especially when they have no access to medical facilities…"

Snape glared at the portrait: "What are they searching for anyway, Dumbeldore? Don't you think that it is high time you let me know?"

Dumbledore remained silent for a while, the piercing blue eyes studying the younger man. "You know the reasons why I cannot answer you, Severus," Dumbledore then said calmly.

"Indeed," Snape muttered through gritted teeth. "But I am still to protect the boy."

"You are to assist him when the need arises," Dumbledore gently corrected. "For the time being, however, I would very much prefer you to protect the children that were entrusted into your care here at Hogwarts."

Snape wordlessly stared at the portrayed man. Then he started to laugh madly. "Entrusted into my care, Dumbledore? By whom, pray tell? The Ministry or the Dark Lord himself? I can't see either of them caring for their well-being…"

Dumbledore waited until the young man's harsh laugh died out. "By me, Severus," he said quietly.

Snape looked back at him with a rebellious glance but the overwhelming sadness that took over on Dumbledore's face robbed him of words. He sat back in his armchair and again reached for the glass. "I cannot do anything about the Carrows," he said defensively, his voice resigned.

Dumbledore nodded. "I know."

Snape looked at him tiredly, a question in his eyes.

"Dilys informs me that the infirmary runs low on potions," the portrait offered.

Snape furrowed his brows. "Slughorn brews for Poppy, I have seen to that," he said calmly.

"Even the Anti-Cruciatus serum?" The portrait's voice was cautious.

"No," Snape bit his lips. Slughorn wouldn't know the improved version, anyway. "Not that one." He nodded, understanding. The Carrows hadn't become any more tolerable. "I shall brew it," he promised. "Even though, I do not believe Poppy will be inclined to use any potions of my production."

"Oh, she will make use of this one, I am sure. Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore gratefully smiled. "And now, before I forget - happy Christmas."

"Happy, indeed," Snape drawled and returned to studying his empty glass.

The room became silent once more and as the night grew shorter, Snape almost dozed off in his armchair as the majority of portraits surrounding him and lasting him the only company. When he finally tiredly rose to go to bed, he noticed that Phineas Nigellus Black was missing between the dozing celebrants - a strange sight, indeed, because the portraits rarely missed the celebrations. Snape frowned but decided to put off any investigation until the morning. As he staggered in the direction of his bedroom, however, Phineas Nigellus appeared in his empty frame, his eyes big and strangely concerned.

"The Potter boy was… was bitten… by You-Know-Who's snake," the portrayed wizard managed between raspy breaths.

"What!?" Snape bellowed, suddenly fully awake, angry eyes again directed at Dumbledore. "Do you know where they are?" he demanded.

"Yes… yes, I do … the girl was quite frantic and didn't pay attention… to what she was saying," Phineas smirked and both Snape and Dumbledore's portrait breathed out in relief.

"Then tell me where I am to Apparate to, damn it!" Snape commanded, rushing out of the office while Accioing supplies. "Happy Christmas, really," he threw at Dumbledore one last time and was gone the moment Phineas named the location.

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Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures

by Iva1201

Chapter 2: The Dittany Cure

Disclaimer/Author's Note: I thank JamesLuver for betaing this chapter! (-:

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Motto:

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try. (…) It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open."

(Mr. Weasley to Fred, Christmas 1995, St. Mungo's)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix," GB children version (2003) – p. 431

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Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place

Early Christmas Day 1997

Tent, the idiots were camping in a tent! Snape swore as he Apparated into the forest and saw the fabric shelter covered in fresh snow. Phineas had never mentioned where the children lived and Snape had to admit that he hadn't cared before. A tent, in the middle of winter! Idiotic Gryffindors! He longed to shout it aloud, to abduct points and order detentions – but forced himself to remain quiet as he needed to surprise the girl. If he wasn't mistaken, Potter was in no shape to stand up to him right now.

Snape approached the tent, his eyes carefully studying the surroundings as he did so. When he didn't spot anything of interest, he cast a swift warning charm and reached his hand to open the threshold of Potter's shelter. As quietly as a cat, Snape entered the tent. On the lower berth of the bunk bed right in front of him rested the Potter boy, his face sweaty and as pale as death, the infamous scar inflamed and another building on his cheek. Hermione Granger was frantically waving her wand over the boy, heavily sobbing. She clearly didn't hear the intruder. Snape nodded gratefully, thankful that he didn't have to fight her, and flicked his wand, silently casting Petrificus Totalus.

The girl fell back in the old, moth-eaten armchair standing next to Potter's bunk, her wand falling to the ground; her eyes widening in her petrified face as she recognized the older wizard nearing Harry's bed. "No!" She wanted to scream, to warn Harry, but found out she couldn't; her eyes horrified.

Snape looked her coldly up and down, satisfied deep down that she seemed unharmed, and looked around. Weasley was indeed nowhere in sight – so Phineas had been right. It was only the two of them now, Potter and Granger. He sincerely hoped that they guarded their shelter better when Potter wasn't lethally injured.

That reminded him to swiftly approach the bed the boy lay on. His eyes were still taking in the many bruises on Potter's body, the scratch on his face and the bleeding puncture marks left after Nagini's bite on Harry's forearm – strangely, in exactly the same place where Voldemort marked his followers with the Dark Mark – when his wand ran its first diagnostic charm over Potter's battered body. Bruises, mostly bruises, he wanted to sigh in relief, but there was still Nagini's venom running through the veins of the boy and while the snake clearly hadn't been ordered to kill, it couldn't very well hinder injecting the poison in the wound.

Snape was strongly reminded of the night when Dumbledore had pulled him out of his bed in the middle of the night right before Christmas two years ago. "Voldemort," the old man mouthed and Severus immediately stepped aside to let him into his dimly lit chambers; silently cursing Umbridge for watching even Dumbledore's fireplace. "He sent his snake to the Ministry. Arthur was bitten –“

"Nagini? I am afraid I still wasn't able to finish the antidote but she is not deadly per se as you know well..."

"Arthur was bitten really badly, Severus. He would have bled out if St. Mungo's didn't apply the thrice charmed bandages." That was bad, Snape knew. Slowly, he nodded. "I shall look at it immediately," he promised. "But if I find the cure, my name mustn't be mentioned." Dumbledore gave him an affirmative nod. "It won't, Severus." Once again, you will be spared the praise that rightfully belongs to you…

Snape bowed over the boy's figure and took a closer look at the puncture marks. This time they were small and the bleeding wouldn't really harm the boy for hours yet. It was, however, also too late to simply extract the venom from the wound and let the body deal with the wound itself. If not treated, Snape knew, the venom would harm internal organs and cause lasting damage. "Very well, Potter," he said, disgust plain in his voice, "you will have to endure my potions once again."

Snape stood and searched his pockets for a small vial. Unstoppering it, he forced the boy to open his mouth and drink the contents of the flask. Potter forcefully swallowed, then jerked up and coughed. Snape got hold on him and when the coughing fit ended, he eased the boy back on his pillows. For a while, Snape remained standing by the bed; then, when the boy's face started to turn from deadly pale to the somewhat more tolerable pale of the sick, he nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to Miss Granger.

The girl was eyeing him from her body's imprisonment with wide eyes and disbelief written all over her weary face. "Miss Granger," he greeted politely and had to smirk over her swiftly altering expression. "I trust you have some Extract of Dittany to close the wound."

Her eyes told him she would have nodded if not petrified. "Good," he said, and once again turned to the boy. The diagnostic charm revealed the boy was building a fever, but that was to be expected. "Potter will be delirious for several hours," he informed the girl matter-of-factly, his eyes still on Lily's brat. "But he shall survive this latest adventure of his," he sneered, "without lasting harm."

"You, on the other hand," Snape turned to her startled face. "Would have failed my Potions NEWTs class if still at Hogwarts." Hermione's eyes, if at all possible, widened further. Why? She wanted to ask, for the time-being forgetting where she was and that the man in front of her was no longer her teacher but one of her enemies.

Snape smirked, getting exactly the reaction he expected from her. Some things will never change, he thought, suddenly feeling a fully unexpected desire to teach once again when this war was over. If it ever was over, he corrected himself, knowing full well that the expected saviour of their world could have easily died earlier that day. "Boomslang skin, Miss Granger," he said aloud, presenting her with his best annoyed glare reserved for the students who clearly didn't apply themselves while having the brains and abilities. "Can you tell me what are the dangers of its prolonged or continuous use?"

Hermione's eyes betrayed her shock. Snape knew what they were doing – and worse yet, he was right that she had completely forgotten the last line on Polyjuice Potion in the Most Potente Potions (a line that was already on the next page dedicated otherwise to the Confusing Draught). "Exactly," Snape nodded, spotting the look and being able to understand her thoughts.

His hand fished once again in his pocket and suddenly, two vials of a yellowish draught were presented to Hermione on his palm. "Miss Granger?" he offered her one of them.

Hermione's eyes uncertainly skipped from his outstretched hand to Harry's bunk and back. Her friend was moaning and was clearly caught in some kind of a nightmare but otherwise, he seemed much better – even the puncture marks had stopped bleeding. She looked at the man, painfully aware that they would have both been dead by now if he wanted them to and finally, slowly and unwillingly, she thought: "Yes."

Snape nodded and flicked his wand, freeing her head from the body bind. Hermione moved her neck to get rid of the stiffness she felt there and her eyes hanging on his face, she quietly said: "But the colour is off, Professor."

The man suppressed an urge to laugh. "I am well aware that your textbook suggested a slightly different tone of yellow, Miss Granger. Take it or let it be, I don't care." Not that you need to be aware of it, anyway.

She bit her lips, recalling the book Harry had used the previous year. Finally, she nodded and he freed her left hand while Accioing her wand to him. He handed her over the vial and she swallowed the liquid inside, dreading that she was mistaken after all…

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Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures

by Iva1201

Chapter 3: Lily's Eyes

Author's Note: Thank you for reviewing! (-:

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Motto:

"I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe."

(Severus Snape to Albus Dumbledore, spring 1997, Hogwarts)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 551

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Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place

Early Christmas Day 1997

The Potion tasted dreadfully but it really didn't harm her. Hermione suppressed a relieved sigh and shot a side-glance at her former teacher. Snape once again loomed over Harry, the man now intently studying Harry's inflamed scar.

"Has Potter been having visions of the Dark Lord of lately, Miss Granger?" Snape asked quietly, unexpectedly, the wizard indifferent only on the surface.

Hermione didn't reply, not really sure if she knew the answer herself. Harry undoubtedly hadn't been blocking the connection that he had to Voldemort and she thought that Snape may feel similar concern as she had been experiencing – assumed the man indeed was on their side. But what would he be doing here otherwise?

Snape apparently understood her silence as he didn't repeat the question and sighed. Resigned, he straightened himself and as if for the first time noticing how cold it was in the tent, he ordered: "You don't want Potter to catch a cold, Miss Granger. Extra quilts?" She pointed with her freed hand at a chest in the back of the tent and Snape walked over there and heaped the retrieved three blankets over Harry's shivering form. Once the quilts were in place, Snape aimed his wand at them and cast a warming charm on both them and the air around him.

"That will go for now," he murmured when the temperature had risen. A moment later, his eyes were sharply meeting Hermione's. "I find myself unable to determinate what of your today's ineptitude was caused by Potter's injury and what is your usual Gryffindor stupidity," he sneered and Hermione couldn't help it but smile at the familiarity of his insult.

Snape frowned in reply and continued with a firm order: "Therefore, Miss Granger, if you weren't private with the heating charm before, you will cast the charm you enjoyed applying so much in your first year – on my robes, I may add – when I leave. I will not have Potter exposing me to the Dark Lord." And neither you in that matter, he added in his mind.

Granger didn't know any Legilimency, he was sure. Still, she nodded at this and quietly asked, her eyes cast down: "If you can, please, do not Obliviate me."

He acknowledged the plea with a non-saying nod. "Potter will need to drink the Potion contracting the overdose on Boomslag skin as soon as the antidote to Nagini's venom wears off," he said indifferently. "I suggest you mix it with his tea – it won't leave an aftertaste if you would."

The girl didn't appear delighted with the order but still she nodded in affirmation.

"Good," Snape said, apparently satisfied for the time-being and took a chair to the other side of Harry's bed. The tent became silent. When nothing happened for the next hour or so, except for Harry moaning in fever and him violently vomiting once – the mess immediately vanished by Snape – Hermione quietly asked: "Why have you done it?"

"Why have I done what, Miss Granger?" Snape looked at her sharply. "Saving Potter's life for an umpteenth time?"

"That," she nodded and in a whisper added: "And Professor Dumbledore's death."

Knowing that he would Obliviate the girl despite the promise he had given her earlier, Snape answered, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose: "That, Miss Granger, believe it or not, was as much a wish of the Dark Lord as Professor Dumbledore himself. I merely held the wand."

Snape said this indifferently, as if he had never stood on the top of the Astronomy Tower that night. Hermione stared at him silently for a while and then burst up, for a while not quite controlling herself: "How can you behave as if nothing has happened? Do you feel nothing? He always stood for you, always defended you…" her voice died out.

"Did he really?" Snape quirked up a curious eyebrow. "Interesting that I had never noticed… I am, nonetheless, certain that he was well aware he wouldn't be the first friend I had killed." He smirked at her open shock, his bad mood dissolving somewhat. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked slyly.

She stared at him, her eyes disbelieving. "Who else?" she whispered.

"You are bright enough," he shot at her, deeply scowling. "If you really want to know, why don't you figure it out yourself?" Their eyes met above Harry's body. She dropped her gaze first and saw that the boy was now drenched in sweat. "Is it normal?" she asked worriedly, for a moment forgetting about their conversation.

Snape too looked at the boy and evaluated his state. "It is," he nodded and gazed back at her, his dislike of Harry momentarily plain in his eyes. "The Boy-Who-Lived will live once again." Snape's voice was so bitter and miserable that Hermione gasped. Why was Snape there really? And why did he save Harry's life if he hated him like this? … Why had he kept saving his life?

Harry coughed again in that very moment, his body jerking up and he retching all over himself. To Hermione's utter astonishment, the Professor who so obviously hated Harry, was immediately on his side and not caring about the mess, took hold on Harry's body, holding his head up, so that the boy wouldn't suffocate. When the attack was over, Harry briefly opened his eyes and looked up, the green orbs joining the black gaze of his former Professor. Hermione caught the brief tender expression that run over Snape's face and almost shook her head in disbelief. Snape despised Harry as he had hated his father – but… Harry's eyes weren't James's; they were Lily's.

"You knew Harry's mother, you knew Lily," the girl said, not asking.

"Outstanding, Miss Granger. I was sure that you would be able to put it together," Snape nodded and aimed his wand at her.

Obliviate, she saw forming on his lips and despairing, cried: "No! Please! I won't tell Harry!"

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Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures

by Iva1201

Chapter 4: Before the Dawn

Chapter 4 was betaed by excessivelyperky. Thank you! (((-:

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Motto:

"A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hands by Hermione." (Hermione, who has never before seen how a memory looks like! Has she read all about it as well, I wonder?)

Excerpt taken from J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 528.

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Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place

Early Christmas Day 1997

Hermione was sitting in the old armchair next to Harry's bunk bed, bemusedly staring at the two vials that were lying on her left hand's palm. She knew that one of them contained the rest of their Dittany Extract supply, and reminded herself to obtain a new stock of the remedy as soon as possible – but the silvery mist that circled in the second flask was a mystery that she wasn't able to solve.

Similarly, she couldn't quite tell why her body felt stiff, as if she had been sitting tightly bound for several hours – and then, there was Harry whose state had unexplainably and unexpectedly greatly improved. The puncture marks left after Nagini's bite were closed by now, though the girl didn't understand how; the forearm, however, was scarred and covered in drying blood, witnessing the horror they had been through.

Then Harry moaned in his fever and Hermione worriedly forced her eyes from the second flask. She looked at Harry's pale, sweaty face and felt a sudden stab of guilt for letting him suffer needlessly. Unthinkingly, Hermione dropped the unknown container in her pocket and opened the familiar vial. She sniffed it to be sure about its contents, and tipped the fluid on the miraculously half-healed wound on her friend. As gently as she could, the girl spread the solution over Harry's new scars, suppressing a sob when her friend gave out a painful yelp.

"It's all right, Harry, you will be all right," Hermione tried to reassure the boy and herself equally. It apparently worked in Harry's case, since the boy calmed. Hermione gave a relieved sigh, summoned a damp piece of cloth and cleaned Harry's arm. "Much better," she mumbled to herself, satisfied; then, with a flick of her wand, she disposed of the soiled cloth and sat back in her armchair.

Harry was still feverish but slept restfully for now and Hermione reached for her beaded bag to retrieve the book she had taken from Bathilda's house. She was sure that Skeeter had written lies in it – but felt curious anyway.

As she bended forward to open the bag, the girl saw in front of her a piece of parchment that had apparently felt on the floor. Inquiringly, she reached for it and instantly frowned at seeing her own handwriting and words she didn't recall writing…

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Hogwarts' grounds

Early Christmas Day 1997

A very tired and annoyed Severus Snape Apparated right into a mound of heavy wet snow that had drifted around Hogwarts' gate during the night, and swore. He had never really enjoyed Christmas since he had been a very small child, and then again a wide-eyed first year at Hogwarts, but this Yule was clearly working at becoming his worst ever.

Brushing the snow off his clothes and casting drying charms over the skirt of his usual dark robes, Snape berated himself for the idiocy of the previous night. He couldn't believe that he truly let the Granger girl figure out that he and Lily had once been friends and that it was the reason why he had been looking after the bratty, amazingly reckless friend of hers.

Less comprehensible, even, was the fact that he hadn't simply Obliviated the girl and instead – against his better judgment – agreed with a solution she proposed. Damn! He swore. You are growing careless, Severus, and it will get you killed one day.

Snape angrily kicked in the heap of snow in front of him. Then, with a complicated movement of his wand, the acting Headmaster of Hogwarts opened the heavily guarded gate, earning himself a spray of the wet snowflakes that covered the gate's top and entered the school grounds.

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Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's hiding place

Early Christmas Day 1997

The hand that held the mysterious letter dropped to the girl's lap, and the young witch stared into space – her eyes unseeing and her brain bewildered. She had read the letter more times than she had cared to count; she had acknowledged that she had written it – but why and on whose orders? She still didn't have a clue and it greatly disturbed her.

"Oh Harry," she whispered. "I don't know what to do…" But even speaking to her friend about what the letter said was banned by the missive, and Hermione thought she understood why. People who stood by them, as well as some of their enemies (if by odd chance Snape had kept silent) knew about Harry's strange mental connection to Voldemort and his inability to close his mind…

The girl let go of the letter and reached in her pocket. The vial with the unknown substance sparkled on her palm once again. Now, she knew what was inside – but did it change anything? She wouldn't open it anyway. Not when she had forbidden it herself – even if she longed to…

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Hogwarts

Headmaster's Office

Early Christmas Day 1997

"Severus!" Dumbledore's portrait exclaimed in his annoying cheerful way when the Slytherin wizard entered the office. "There you are. … How is Harry?"

Not uttering a word of acknowledgement, Snape simply looked at the old man's portrait with open dislike. Unhurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it over the chair in front of the fireplace so that it could dry. Then he walked towards the window and once there, he let his eyes purposelessly wander across the snow-covered school grounds. For a long time, Dumbledore's question remained without a reply.

"Severus?" Dumbledore admonished when the silence stretched too long.

"The reckless brat is as well as you can expect," Snape said quietly, his voice indifferent and his back remaining turned to his predecessor in the Headmaster's stool.

"Now, Severus, this is not necessary," Dumbledore said with a slight frown. "If you want me to believe that you care for Harry's well-being more than I did, you may as well behave as the best friend of the boy's mother who you claim to have been…"

Snape turned angrily on his heels. His eyes flashing daggers, his voice dripping poison, he said in a dangerous, quiet voice: "Fortunately, my relationship with Lily is no longer any of your business, Dumbledore. I ask you to accept this minor detail if you want me to follow up with your plans."

The man in the portrait looked intently at his one-time employee, and knowing the younger man as he did, Dumbledore gave Snape a reluctant nod.

"Then we are agreed." Snape noted unnecessarily, and walked to the stairs leading to the bedroom adjoining the office.

The portrait coughed and Snape halted. Irritated, the dark wizard asked, not turning: "What else?"

"Harry has to be given the sword, Severus. Detest me as you wish to but promise me that you deliver it to him – no matter what the situation – when Phineas brings us information of Harry's location again."

Snape smirked. I have already planned for that, old man, he thought. Aloud he asked only: "And when will you inform me what the boy needs the Gryffindor artifact for?"

"I hoped that this matter had been resolved," Dumbledore frowned behind Snape's back.

"Was it?" Snape asked quietly and moved towards the stairs.

Dumbledore sighed in slight resignation, but right before the younger man could disappear behind the doorway, he pressed anew: "Severus! This is not a time, nor a place for being difficult… Will you promise it to me?"

Snape stopped, for a while quiet. Then, still turned, the dark man shook his head in angry disbelief. "You know very well that I will do it," he said to the old man in low voice and deserted the room.

"Now, I do," Dumbledore's portrait said quietly. "Sleep well, my boy," he whispered to the empty room then, knowing that Snape wouldn’t believe his wishes genuine even if he had heard them.

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Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures

by Iva1201

Chapter 5: Waking from a Nightmare

A/N: Betaed by JamesLuver - thank you! (-: As always, nothing mine. ENJOY!

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Motto:

“And I've been... what, unconscious?� - “Not exactly,� said Hermione. “You've been shouting and moaning and... things...�

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 283

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Hermione Granger's and Harry Potter's hiding place

Early Christmas Day 1997

Hermione was still perplexed with the mysterious missive and the memory vial when Harry started to painfully groan on his bunk bed. Worried, the girl unconsciously tucked the piece of parchment in her pocket and bent over her friend. Harry's forehead was drenched in sweat now and Hermione felt a new wave of panic coming over her. “Hurts,� Harry moaned in his state of unconsciousness, his features twitching in pain and Hermione felt her eyes filled with tears and the moisture started to run down her cheeks. Angrily, she swept the tears off with the back of her hand. I have to help now, not make things worse, she thought, determined not to fail Harry now.

The girl forced herself to order her thoughts and since the first things ought to be dealt with first, she flicked her wand and conjured a small, soft sponge out of the thin air and began to dry Harry's face. Still unconscious, the boy started to laugh at that moment – an evil, unearthly sound, however quiet – and Hermione's eyes immediately fell to his chest. There, beneath Harry's sweaty T-shirt, Hermione knew was the Horcrux, and it occurred to her then how the pendant influenced them all – influenced Ron. She was not going to lose another friend to the damned thing, she thought furiously and pulled Harry's T-shirt up. The Horcrux was stuck to Harry's chest when she tried to take it off and Hermione didn't hesitate and drew her wand to get the evil thing off her friend.

“Secerno!“ she incanted resolutely and expertly moved her wand around the edges of the ancient metal. For a while, nothing obvious happened; then, finally, the locket slid to the side and Harry's bare skin showed, revealing a dark red oval mark where the locket had rested before. Hermione grabbed the Horcrux before it could fall to the ground and hid it in her beaded bag; allowing herself a little sigh of relief when it was accomplished.

But apparently, to take the Horcrux of Harry's chest was not enough. Harry again laughed, more evilly than before, and hissed, his voice strangely disappointed: “So easy... Too easy!“ Her friend was still speaking in human voice but Hermione thought that the sound was not far from Parseltongue now and felt the panic anew rising in her chest.

Then, suddenly, Harry sat up, his eyes still closed. The well-known Phoenix-corded wand appeared in the boy's hand and Harry aimed it, obviously completely unaware of his actions, directly at Hermione's chest. “Avada...“ Hermione saw forming on his lips and before the shock took completely over her, she somehow managed to catch Harry's hand and force it together with the deadly wand to the side. “...Kedavra,“ Harry finished and a stream of the terrible green light illuminated the tent, boring a small circular hole in the canvas wall where it reached it. Hermione stared at the light of death, disgusted and yet fascinated despite her.

The wand, infused by the force of the killing curse, fell from Harry's hand then and hit the ground. Probably already damaged from Bathilda's house, the wood broke and Hermione stared at the wreckage in a new shock. “No, oh no,“ was all she was able to think, painfully aware of how much Harry loved the wand. “I am so sorry, Harry!“ she whispered, tears rolling out of her eyes.

The boy started muttering in answer and Hermione knew he was still trapped in his vision or nightmare or whatever it was. “Stand aside, stand aside... Stand aside, you silly girl!“ her friend was repeating in the same, emotionless voice he had used before and once again, Hermione heard the words of the killing curse. To her great relief, Harry, this time wandless, now only harmlessly moved his hand to accompany the words.

Hermione shuddered then, suddenly thinking she knew what Harry was witnessing in his fever dream. She couldn't stop her tears anymore when the boy went from his previous mimicking Voldemort to mirroring his own baby cries. He had to be seeing Godric's Hollow that unfortunate night more than fifteen years ago and reliving everything that had happened there back then. Hermione couldn't quite imagine the horror of it.

And then, there was the pained expression again and tears running down Harry's cheeks and the boy groaning: “No, no, no...� and finally, disappointed: “I dropped it... I dropped it...� Sometimes in between, Hermione started to shake Harry's shoulders, not having the stomach to witness her friend's suffering any longer. “Harry, it's all right, you're all right!� She heard herself speaking from far away and then found herself crying, feeling quite desperately: “Harry, it's OK, wake up, wake up!�

An endless moment later, the well-known green eyes were looking at her, finally aware, and Hermione came back to herself. “Harry,� she whispered, “do you feel all – all right?�

When he replied “Yes,� she knew he was lying. Forcefully, she swallowed her tears and tried to smile at him.

“We got away,� Harry said, surprised and she nodded her yes and started to explain, somehow managing to stay reasonably calm. But then he saw his severed wand and pleaded with her to repair it – and Hermione knew that she couldn't mend it and that it was her fault the wand had been broken.

“Harry, I am so, so sorry,� she found herself saying, refusing to tell him what he had almost done while unconscious. “I think it was me,� she admitted quietly and then she lied that it was the Blasting Curse that broke the holly and phoenix-feather Ollivander's work because she couldn't bear it to tell him the truth.

Hermione fully understood when Harry stumbled out of his bed and her sight to mourn privately then – but it hurt her nevertheless. In her total exhaustion, the girl silently cried, for whatever reason maintaining her previous place by Harry's, now vacated, bed...

ooooo

A/N: That was heretic, I know. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?