Thanks go out to my alpha and beta readers while I was working on this project. JuneW, DeeMichelle, Subversa, Cocoachristy, Minuet99 & Ferporcel. They are a wonderful group of friends and I appreciate the correcting, advice and hand-holding from each of them.
Chapter 3: Once Upon a Dream
Thin rays of sunshine filtered through the draperies in her bedroom. She was slowly coming to awareness as her brain gradually began the process of awakening before she forced her eyes open.
“Hermione! Wake up!” shouted Heidi as she walked into the room and tore open the draperies.
So much for a gradual wake-up.
“What?” she mumbled as she turned her face away from the window.
“It’s just past nine. You’re late for work.”
“I don’t start until late today. Fred and George are keeping the shop open until nine because Halloween is only a couple of days away. Besides, if you thought I was going to be late for work, why weren’t you in here earlier?” Hermione replied, her mind quickly shaking off its grogginess.
“I was,” Heidi said with her hands on her hips, reminding Hermione very much like her own mother. “You wouldn’t budge.”
Hermione snorted and sat up. Well, it seemed that sleeping hard was a side effect of the revitalising spell. Her mind automatically went to making a short list of signs, symptoms and effects, so she could tell Fred and George when she saw them.
“You must’ve been done in after your shift. You never have a lie-in,” Heidi remarked, now sitting down on the end of Hermione’s bed. This was not an uncommon occurrence. They often went into the other’s room and talked, although it was usually when Heidi wanted something. Hermione wondered idly what it was this time.
“Well, I think it was a combination of the shift and then my going to the Ministry ball last night.”
“There wasn’t a ball last night.”
And here Hermione smiled. “Yes, there was. It was hosted by the Ministry and it was very nice.”
Heidi looked back at her, puzzled. “Hermione, there hasn’t been a Ministry-hosted ball in nearly ten years, and that one was to celebrate the fall of You-Know-Who. Although I did hear a rumor about something for New Year’s Eve, but….”
“No,” Hermione insisted. “I know about the one for New Year’s Eve, but this was last night. I went for just a few hours. I was back here a bit after midnight.”
“No you weren’t.”
“No I wasn’t”what?”
“You weren’t out until midnight.”
“Yes, I was. I came home, did a quick spell to change into my pyjamas, and I went to bed. It was just after midnight when my head hit the pillow.”
“Hermione, I was home just barely after ten last night and you were here… asleep.”
“What?”
“I came home a little after ten, and you were here, in this bed, asleep.” Heidi chuckled and stood up from the bed. “I’ll go fix some tea, while you wake up a bit more.” And with that, she left the room.
Heidi is wrong. She has to be. I hadn't even left for the ball until nearly nine, Hermione thought. Those chimes she had heard when she'd been talking with Severus couldn't have been for ten or eleven instead… Could they?
Determined, Hermione scampered out of bed and went to her wardrobe, where the new dress robes from last evening’s ball were hanging. But when she opened the door, she couldn’t find them. She had been so tired when she had come back. Was it possible that she had made a mistake with the spell to change her clothes, and she had sent the new robes someplace else?
Confused, she walked out of her bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen. Hermione was very pleased to see that the tea that Heidi had promised was nearly ready, and she sat down at the kitchen table to wait.
“Did you happen to get the soot off of the carpet in the parlour?” Hermione asked Heidi when she entered the kitchen.
“What soot?”
“The soot on the carpet in front of the hearth. It looked like someone came in by Floo.”
“I didn’t see them,” Heidi said, slightly alarmed as she put down the teapot and hurriedly walked into the other room. She was back a moment later, looking puzzled. “There’s no soot, Hermione.”
“What?” Now, Hermione had to go look. Sure enough, the floor in the parlour was as clean as it usually was… not a black mark in sight.
She went back to the kitchen table and rested her head in her hands while taking deep breaths and trying to relax. It did no good to get upset about such things. Could the entire evening have been a dream?
Very confused, she decided to drink her tea, and then she would try to get to the bottom of this.
Of course, none of that helped. After all, when a dream felt so real that you never even realised that you were dreaming, it could leave someone feeling a bit disconcerted afterwards.
~~~
Saturday morning came for Severus, and it was time for his weekly meeting with the Headmistress. Severus opened the door to her office and greeted her before he sat down in the offered armchair.
Minerva sat behind her desk which was, as usual, piled with papers and scrolls amongst some of the various knickknacks that she’d saved from the office’s former occupant.
“How was your week, Severus?” she asked.
“As dull and boring as it usually is,” came his typical reply. “Hardin and Pucey were given detention for dueling in the corridors. Filch was none too pleased that I gave them to him.”
“I’m sure.” The Headmistress scratched notes on her parchment.
Tapping his fingers together, Severus glanced up at the portrait above the woman’s desk to see Dumbledore wink at him. Severus rolled his eyes. He hated these weekly check-ins. Although if he were to mention it to her, they were as much for himself as they were for her. If it wasn’t for Minerva’s unwavering faith in him, he wouldn’t be teaching any longer… even on a part-time basis. “And how was your week, Minerva? Did you and Filius enjoy your brief trip out of the castle yesterday?”
She smiled. “It was very nice, Severus. Thank you for asking.”
He gave a non-committal hum.
“We had dinner at that new little restaurant down in Hogsmeade, and then he took me to the theater.”
If he had wanted to know the details of their date, he would’ve asked her.
“Really, Severus, you should get out more,” she said in that overly irritating, motherly tone.
“I am quite content spending the evening in my quarters here at the school. And if not there, then there is ample work for me to do with the Ministry.”
Minerva took the hint from his nearly growled words and wisely changed the subject to the business at hand. “Well, then, let’s get down to business and discuss what needs to be done this week.”
And that they did.
As usual on Saturday mornings, Severus left Minerva’s office with the beginnings of a headache.
How Severus ever went from being a Death Eater and a murderer (Albus Dumbledore’s murderer, at that) back to being a professor at Hogwarts and Head of Slytherin House, was beyond him. But that, in fact, was the case. Oh, it hadn’t happened all at once, of course. First he'd been outed as a spy for the Order and barely escaped with his life. Then he’d helped in the final destruction of the Dark Lord. After that, he’d been sent to Azkaban to await trial”a trial which he had been sure he would never get.
Severus had been resigned to his fate. In fact, he had welcomed it with open arms. He had been certain that the Minster of Magic was doing everything that he could to bring back the Dementor’s Kiss or to reopen the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries for the worst of the Death Eaters… and Severus had known exactly how the wizarding community viewed him. How many people were classified as being worse than Dumbledore’s murderer?
After twenty years as a hated teacher and spy, Severus welcomed death. It was his reward for services rendered.
It was during the time that he was awaiting trial that a barrister had come in to see him, carrying a small package. Apparently, Albus had left Severus something in his will.
The barrister had told Severus that he would return in two days time. Severus had tried to ignore the package and had succeeded in doing so for nearly forty hours, but with little to do in his cell, he eventually broke down and opened it.
It was simply a purple and orange sock with a note that read:
Severus,
Thank you for your years of dedication and service. The colours may not suit you, but I really don’t expect you to ever wear anything other than those black socks that I’ve seen you wear every day since you came to be in my employ.
It is simply my promise to you that you will be free.
Albus
Severus didn’t know whether to take those final words from his one-time friend as a final goodbye to reassure him that death would be welcome, or to give Severus a glimmer of hope.
Over his better judgment, Severus had decided that it was a thread of hope, and he found himself clinging to it with all of his might.
Exactly forty-eight hours after leaving the package, the barrister returned with news that Severus' trial date had been moved forward, as there was now a public outcry. Surprisingly, the public was demanding that Snape be set free.
Of course, the Wizengamot would not release Severus simply because it was what the people wanted. Apparently, Albus had sent out letters to other people, as well as to the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler and Witch Weekly, outlining all of the deeds that Severus had done as a spy for the Order; these letters included the names of each and every person whose life he had saved, either directly or indirectly.
On the day of his trial, there had been signs and banners held high and buttons worn by a large crowd of his supporters, all containing the simple words: I trust Severus Snape.
Evidence supplied both by Dumbledore and by key witnesses who had been arranged to testify on Severus’ behalf, long before Albus’ death, had ultimately been what had saved Severus’ life. Well, that and the fact that Harry Bloody Potter had come forth as the only eyewitness to Dumbledore’s murder and announced that not only had he been paralysed by Dumbledore himself, but he was certain he had been Confunded as well, thereby causing anything that he may have said immediately after Albus’ death to be inadmissible.
Harry Potter’s testimony had been the only evidence that they’d had to the murder. There was no way that Draco would have testified against him, as he owed Severus a life debt for killing Dumbledore for him.
And Severus Snape had been released. He'd been given community service as a special condition of his probation and supervised release; it was the only punishment for his time as a Death Eater. The barrister had told him that it was something that they could easily fight, but Severus had refused. That was how he began working for the Ministry of Magic on a part-time basis. He had unwittingly helped them to form the Department of Magical Experimentation and Dangerous Potions.
After he finished his probation, he stayed at the post even now because of the negative side effects of the laws, namely that the number of new and improved potions and charms had dropped by drastic numbers in the last few years.
Because it had been community service, at least to start, Severus had not been paid and had needed to look for another source of income. That was when Minerva had approached him with a proposition to come work at Hogwarts as an adjunct professor. The woman who was teaching potions had a husband and small child and had wished to spend a bit more time with her family.
Severus had accepted the position on the condition that he only teach N.E.W.T.-level Potions to deserving students who wished to pursue their studies. After some time, Minerva, of course, had wormed more and more duties out of him, including reinstating him as the Head of Slytherin. That allowed him to live at the school full-time during the school year, but his reduced teaching schedule also allowed him to spend the time that he needed in his work for the Ministry.
His Saturday morning meetings were Minerva’s way of appearing to the School Board as if she was keeping close tabs on the ex-Death Eater who was on her staff. Underneath the surface, it was Minerva’s way of sticking her nose in his personal life.
Severus entered the study of his personal chambers down in the dungeons. He went over to his desk where he had the latest files from the Ministry and sat down. He rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed his eyes. He was tired this morning. Last night he hadn’t slept well.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true; he’d slept perfectly fine, he simply had experienced such a vivid and realistic dream that he woke up feeling as if it had all happened. He hated dreams like that. They always left him with an odd sense of not being able to tell exactly what was real and what wasn’t.
Except, he knew that this dream hadn’t really happened. In the dream, he’d attended the Ministry’s Halloween Ball, when in reality there was no such event. The blasted dance had been complete with masks, music and glasses overflowing with pumpkin juice and champagne. Well, the champagne hadn’t been so bad, but that didn’t make it any more tolerable.
The only saving grace about the dream had been a woman who had genuinely appeared to be interested in him. He may have been popular enough to rescue from Azkaban, but that didn’t mean that the women were presently pounding down his door. Severus had danced with this beautiful and intelligent woman several times, and he had been pleased with their discussions.
Severus never spoke like that to anyone. He never allowed himself to be so vulnerable. And he never danced.
All of these reasons made it even more odd that he would dream such a thing, for in the dream, a part of himself he had thought long buried had felt… content.
His head began to throb even more than before. Pulling out his wand from his sleeve, he Summoned a flask of headache relief potion and drained the contents. He then set to work on reading the latest batch of sixth-year essays and tried to put the odd dream behind him. Unfortunately, the dream kept niggling at his brain.
~~~
Hours later didn’t find Hermione feeling much better. She’d eventually gone in to work and put in a full shift selling Wheezes. It had been so busy that Hermione had not been able to corner Fred until it was nearly closing time. He’d denied having anything to do with it, of course. Fred had even denied invading her dream to coax her to enjoy herself.
She went home from work just as annoyed with not having the answers as she’d been when she’d woken up that morning. Upon returning home, she had searched the flat thoroughly for any evidence that the events that she had remembered were, in fact, true.
She found nothing.
No dress robes. No cloak. No empty potion phial. No letter. No invitation. Not even a ruddy bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion!
Hermione decided to speak with Ron to see if he remembered dancing with her (even though she knew that it would be futile, seeing as Fred knew nothing). She was on her way to the hearth to use the Floo when it flared to life.
“Healer Granger,” said the head that was now floating in the flames.
“Yes.”
“It’s Healer Johnson. I am caring for a patient that you admitted to our ward last night, and I was wondering if you could come down here.”
“Which patient? I admitted several yesterday.”
“It’s Mrs Graham.”
“Is everything all right with her?” Hermione asked, concerned.
“Well, we’re trying to discern that very thing. Could you come down here, please?”
“Yes, I’m on my way.”
Hermione walked to the cloak rack, grabbed her cloak and walked out the door.
~~~
When she returned home even later that evening, she didn’t even bother with hanging up her cloak before she collapsed in her favourite chair in the parlour. Mrs Graham had fallen into a coma shortly after Hermione had left work the evening before. The Healers who had been taking care of her were trying to piece together exactly what had happened to the woman to put her in that situation, and since Hermione had turned over care to Healer Schmidt in order to get home, the Healers had very little information to go on.
Apparently, Hermione was the only staff member who’d had a chance to talk to the old woman before she fell into unconsciousness. When Hermione asked why they hadn’t attempted to contact her sooner, she was told that they had been attempting to get in touch with her since the previous evening with no luck. Apparently, they’d left a message with Heidi, but Hermione wasn’t surprised that she’d not received it. The girl was notoriously forgetful.
Seeing the old witch lying there in the bed had reminded Hermione of when Mrs Graham had been sick the year before with Dragon Pox. Just as Hermione had then, she felt horribly bad for the old woman with no family left.
After giving another report to the staff Healers who were caring for Mrs Graham, Hermione went to the hospital library to do some research of possible causes for the coma. She tried, desperately, to remember any particular smells or sensations that could give her some clue as to what Mrs Graham had been working on before she came in the night before, but nothing stood out.
When she cast Priori Incantatem on Mrs Graham’s wand, the only silhouette Hermione could discern was that of stars. The only spell Hermione could think of that would do that was the Sparkler Charm she’d learned back as a first-year student ” not a practical spell by any means, and it certainly wouldn’t explain the woman’s present state.
So, Hermione had no choice but to file a form for possible unauthorised experimentation and send it off to the office at the Ministry. Hopefully, one of them could work on their investigation and give the hospital staff a little more information. Seeing as it was an emergency, they would put it at the top of their list and investigate Mrs Graham’s home.
The first of November was two days later, and Hermione was back to work at the hospital. It was upon her return to work that she received a response from the Magical Experimentation Board.
Healer Granger,
After a thorough investigation of the dwelling belonging to Mrs Francine Graham, located at the cottage in the Enchanted Forest, we have found nothing to aid you in your care. There was nothing more hazardous than a simple sleeping draught in her cauldron; although it does appear that the cauldron had bubbled over, it is undetermined whether this happened before or after she left for St Mungo's. The spell books found in her home were nothing more than what one would give a first- or second-year student.
I suggest that you actually attempt to do your job rather than shirking off your own duties onto someone else. After six years in my classroom and defeating the Dark Lord, I had been under the impression that you had actually learned something. Perhaps being Mr Potter's friend and doing nothing more than ride on his coattails did you far more harm than I had originally thought. Or perhaps you don't have any where near the intelligence that I had thought you possessed.
Regardless, thank you for wasting my Sunday.
S. Snape
Department of Magical Experimentation and Dangerous Potions
Ministry of Magic
Hermione crumpled up the letter and threw it at the nearest rubbish bin, unworried about the documentation for her patient’s chart. The hospital would’ve received its own copy, hopefully one that was less of a personal attack. This one had been addressed to her specifically, and now she wanted nothing more than to go down to Severus Snape’s office and hex him in whichever spot she thought that it would hurt him the worst, for his attitude.
It was a far cry from the thoughts she’d been having about the man since she woke up from her dream Saturday morning. Some small part of her had actually started thinking that Severus Snape had the potential to be pleasant and almost charming. But if anything could have convinced her that her dream had been nothing more than a fantasy, it was that nasty missive from her old professor.
Odd, since prior to her dream, she’d not even thought of Snape since just after the war.