A/N: This story was written for Keladry_Lupin for the Summer 2007 SS/HG Exchange. It is completely written and I will post it over the next couple of weeks. :)
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 5: A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
She slowly awoke. First, her brain began to process the roaring white noise that seemed to be surrounding her.
The noise soon became the murmur of soft voices, the clicking of shoes against the marble floors, the rustling of papers and the scratching of a quill.
It was next that she noticed the weight of the heavy blanket that covered her.
The foul aftertaste of a potion that she'd been undoubtedly forced to swallow via that horrible spell those Healers used plagued her mouth.
Finally, she opened her eyes, closing them almost immediately afterwards due to the brightness of the room. She tried to move, but the muscles in her arms and legs protested. Carefully, opening her eyes again, she allowed the light to filter in through tiny slits before opening them further, at last giving her the chance to adjust and take in her surroundings.
White walls, white linens and a small bedside table with a single vase of flowers on it; these were surroundings that she knew all too well. She was in St Mungo's, that much was obvious. Now if only she could remember why…
The sound of footfalls grew louder and she turned her gaze up to see the blurry image of someone at her bedside. The one thing that she could definitely discern was the lime green robes.
“You're awake,” the voice of a woman said.
All she could handle was a meagre nod in reply, her throat too dry to properly work yet.
The Healer moved closer to the side of the bed and began waving her wand and uttering soft incantations over her body. After several minutes, the Healer finally stopped. “Well, Mrs Graham, other than being a bit dehydrated and some minor muscle atrophy, you appear to be in perfect health. I can't understand it.” Another wave of the wand.
Fran felt her head being raised by the pillows behind her and then something cool and smooth at her mouth. Opening her mouth slightly, she welcomed the cool water as it wet her lips and tongue.
After a few sips of water, the Healer took the glass away from Fran. “Not too much, too fast. Although we've been giving you sustenance potions, we don't want to shock your system.”
“How long?” she struggled to ask, grimacing at the sound of her own raspy voice.
“How long? How long have you been here, you mean?”
She forced another small nod.
“Just over six weeks.”
“Six weeks,” Fran all but whispered. She couldn't remember much of anything. Well, she remembered brewing the sleeping potion and causing a minor explosion in her lab when she tried to infuse the Cinderella Charm into the concoction. It hadn't worked quite as she had planned. Normally, it required that the potion be consumed and then the spell cast. She'd known that she wouldn't be able to do both of those things and had wanted another way to cast the magic.
And then what happened?
Vaguely, she remembered getting herself to St Mungo's because she was covered in the potion and she had been feeling rather dizzy. She had thought that she'd be fine; after all, it was a fairly innocuous potion which had exploded. Her main goal in coming to St Mungo's was to see Healer Granger before the potion dried, but had she seen her?
“You need to relax, Mrs Graham. Here, take this and get some sleep. You'll wake up in a few hours feeling much better,” came the voice of the Healer who was still standing over her bed.
Yes, some relaxing sleep and a draught to help her mind and body heal was exactly what she needed. Perhaps when she woke the next time Healer Granger would be around.
When the Healer brought a goblet to Fran's lips, she slowly drank and then allowed herself to collapse into the pillows behind her.
~~~
“Calm down, Severus!” Minerva said with an air of distinct authority. “I'm sure that everything will be fine. I've cast several spells and I'm certain that you aren't bewitched.”
The angry man stopped pacing in front of her. “How can you be certain?”
“Go see Poppy if you're concerned, but you said yourself that you took an antidote last night. It likely took effect partway through your dream, just as you had assumed. I doubt anyone out there is going to show up on our doorway trying to blackmail you.”
“You can't know that!”
Minerva well knew what this was about. She'd known Severus for forty years, watched him grow up, watched him make mistakes and watched him redeem himself. The one thing that the man loathed more than anything was to appear vulnerable and weak. It was an emotional scar from his youth, one that no one had ever been able to heal.
“Fretting about it and carrying on won't help you, no matter what has happened.”
The Potions master growled and threw himself down in the chair opposite of her desk, crossing his legs and resting one elbow on the chair's arm.
“Now, start from the beginning and tell me how all of this came about,” Minerva said, in a tone that clearly told him that not answering was not an option.
Begrudgingly, Severus answered her and Minerva began to hear the entire tale. She listened as he told her everything, from dreaming of a ball back in October, to the woman collapsing at his feet last night. He even told her of the odd compulsions he had felt in the interim and the fragments of dreams that he'd been fighting with various herbs and potions.
When he was finished, Minerva gave him a questioning look. “And you don't know who it was you were dancing with?”
Severus shook his head.
“But it was the same woman both times?” Something was tickling Minerva's memory.
“Yes, Minerva, as I already told you.”
“Relax, Severus. I don't think that a student poisoned or hexed you.” Minerva rose from her desk. “But I need to look into a couple of things. I truly believe that you're in no danger of being exploited. Don't think on it.”
Under his breath, Minerva heard him mumble, “Easy for you to say.”
She bit back a smile. “Don't you have a Quidditch practice to oversee this morning?”
Severus stood and scowled at her before he turned and walked towards the door.
“It will be fine, Severus.”
He nodded and left her office.
Minerva turned and looked at the portrait hanging behind her desk. “Well, Albus, are you thinking what I'm thinking?”
“I believe that I am," said the white-haired old man as he tapped his chin with his finger. "But I'm curious who the charm could have been cast on. Frankie doesn't use it often, she always said it was incredibly draining and she's nearly as old as I was when I died. Her age could explain why the spell didn't work properly.”
“Who could she have cast the spell on that would actually choose that grouchy old sod as her heart's desire?” Minerva asked with a disbelieving snort.
“I believe that I shall go look into it.”
She watched as Dumbledore left his portrait. Minerva knew that he had several portraits that he could move in and out of, including one in his cousin's home.
She sat down to wait.
~~~
Hermione had felt oddly disoriented when she had awakened earlier that day. She had heaved herself out of bed, almost as if she were in a daze.
She'd had another of those dreams… although the hold that it'd had on her before seemed to have dissipated as soon as she'd opened her eyes this morning. Parts of it had been very clear, while other bits were beginning to haze. The one thing that she remembered, quite clearly, was falling asleep at the ball before she'd had a chance to get home.
Strangely enough, when she'd got up that morning, she'd had a dull headache and a bruise on the side of her head.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure it out. Ultimately, she had come to the conclusion that she was suffering from severe exhaustion. That was, naturally, after she'd gone to work and again accused Fred and George of slipping her one of their new creations.
She went back to stocking the Patented Daydreams Charms, thankful that the shop was now closed. Hermione hated the late hours that the shop was open during the holidays. It had been an extremely busy day. It was now ten minutes after nine and the final customer had just left the store, leaving Hermione the task of now re-stocking the shelves before she left for the night.
“Imagine, Severus Snape actually revealing his motives for becoming a Death Eater,” she muttered to herself as she waved her wand and with a flick began stocking the various charmed treats.
“What was that?”
Hermione turned her head. Lavender Brown had just walked in the door and was making her way towards Hermione. “Hi, Lavender. I was just talking to myself.”
The other girl looked at her with an air of superiority that clearly showed that she wasn't surprised. No matter how much time had passed since school, they still didn't get on well. Lavender had at least matured since school, but that didn't mean that she wasn't still a vain and conceited little… well, vain and conceited.
“How are you tonight, Lavender?” Hermione asked politely.
“Fine. Is George still here?”
Hermione nodded her head towards the backroom. “He's in the back with Fred. They're just getting their latest explosion cleaned up.”
Only here did Lavender share a small smile with Hermione before heading towards the back. Lavender also knew what sort of trouble the twins still managed to get into. She and George had been in an on-again off-again relationship for the last three years. Each time that George seemed settled enough to propose marriage, he and Fred would pull some childish prank that would send Lavender stomping off, swearing that she'd never speak to him again. Last time it had been a potion in her meal that had caused her to sprout whiskers on her face and meow like a cat for two hours… of course this was in the middle of Vasumati's, one of the nicest restaurants in wizarding London.
“Oh, by the way,” Lavender said before she disappeared to the workroom. “Molly is having a family dinner at the Burrow tomorrow afternoon. Fred and George were supposed to invite you, but I imagine that they forgot.”
“Yes, it seems that they did.”
“Well, Harry and Ginny will be home. Dinner's at three.”
“Thanks,” Hermione called, although Lavender was already out of sight.
Well, maybe talking to Ginny would help Hermione clear her head.
~~~
Hermione arrived home right at ten o'clock. She went into her flat and almost dreaded walking past the dining table. Sure enough, there was a note on the table. All but groaning, she walked over to read it.
Hermione,
St Mungo's Flooed. Your comatose patient”Graham, I think”woke up today and she's been asking for you.
Heidi
Dropping the note, she Summoned her cloak and ran back out the door.
~~~
“I don't understand why you did this. You don't owe me anything,” Hermione was saying not thirty minutes later to the elderly witch in the bed.
Mrs Graham, or Fran as she was insisting that Hermione call her, looked as if she had merely awakened from a restful nap. Her hair had that “I just woke up” appearance”white wispy strands sticking out in all directions from her loose bun; everything else about her seemed rejuvenated and refreshed. The old woman was wearing a pair of small wire-rimmed glasses that she wore perched on the tip of her nose, and she gave Hermione a warm, nurturing smile.
“Child,” she said while grasping Hermione's hand. “It wasn't because I felt indebted to you for taking care of me when I've been here. If it was simply that, I would've given you a book. I may not know you well, but I know that you love the damn things. Much like I was at your age, you know. It wasn't until my aunt cast the same charm on me that I realised what I was missing, what it was that I truly wanted out of life. And you, Hermione Granger, deserve to have that same void filled.”
“I don't need a man to be happy,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
“No, you don't. We're all different, aren't we? But I know… it was something that you wanted.” Fran squeezed Hermione's hand a bit tighter. “Did you know that aside from you, the only person who came to visit me last year was Minerva McGonagall? And she has a school to run. I think she was only here once or twice.”
“But that's no reason””
“Hush. Didn't anyone ever tell you that it was rude to speak out of turn?” Mrs Graham chided. “As I was saying, you kept an old woman company. But it was in my visit with Minerva that I realised who, exactly, you were. You were one of the children who stopped You-Know-Who. I've already told you that I lost my husband to that monster over thirty years ago, and I lost my son to him right before you and your friends finally brought him down. We all owe you a debt of gratitude.”
The grip on her hands lessened and the older witch pulled one hand up and covered Hermione's hands, patting them softly. “And I saw so much of you when I was here last year; it led me to wonder how you had so much time to keep an old woman company. Minerva kindly filled in the blanks by telling me that you'd had a bad run of relationships and how you had chosen to throw yourself into your work.”
Hermione started to protest, but the old woman's smile told her that it would be a futile effort. Instead she settled for saying, “So, you decided to meddle in my affairs?”
“Well… yes… I kept tabs on you. When you spent your month off this summer with your family or cooped up in a library, rather than out enjoying yourself, I thought that you might need a distraction.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. This was as bad as George telling her a couple of months ago that all she needed was a good shag.
“There is more to life than books, child. You can’t hide yourself away forever.”
She wanted to argue, truly she did, but for some unknown reason, Hermione held her tongue.
“So, I thought that I'd try a charm to help find you someone.”
“What on earth possessed you to try to match me with the likes of Severus Snape?” Hermione asked, indignantly.
Fran chuckled. “Last I was able to see, you two seemed to be getting on rather well. Besides, I was not the one who chose him. You did.”
“Me? I never would've…” her voice trailed off.
“Ah, see? You can't deny it, can you?” Fran said knowingly.
Hermione sighed. “What was this spell, exactly?”
“It's a fairy tale charm. There are several of them, as I'm sure you well know.”
Hermione shook her head.
“Ah, well, they aren't used much nowadays. The spells aren't found in books as they can only be passed down from the descendants of the fairy godmothers. Most fairy tales are based on true stories, you see.” She smiled at Hermione's stunned look. “Of course, there was complicated magic involved in those tales, and many of those have been lost over time as the old family lines die out. My family tree stems from the fairy godmother who helped Cinderella.
“It was actually a series of dreams, not a series of dances. None of it really happened except inside of their minds, you see. By the third consecutive dream, Cinderella knew her intended well and wanted nothing more than to marry him, and he felt the same for her.”
“Who cast the spell? How does it work? Wait, you said three consecutive dreams.”
Fran gave her a motherly smile. “Usually you would drink a seemingly innocuous sleeping draught. Before you fell asleep, the charm would be cast and the spell would take hold. After watching you, I knew there was no way that I'd be able to get you to even drink the potion, much less cast a charm.
“So, I tried to infuse the charm into the potion.”
“The cauldron explosion.”
“Exactly.”
“But, I didn't drink the potion.”
“No, but the cauldron exploded over me and seeped into my skin. You touched it before it had been cleaned off.”
“Then why didn't it work on you… or any of the other Healers who took care of you?”
“The spell had already been cast on me, and it only works once, but the potion wasn't without its negative effects. If you'll recall, I did fall into a coma.”
“How could I forget?” Hermione said as she rolled her eyes. “And I warned the other Healers that you'd been in a potions accident so they were able to take precautions against coming in contact with the potion,” she said as the thoughts worked themselves out in her head. She sighed. It was time to change topics before she got too lost in the details as she was wont to do. “So… three nights?”
“Yes, it's supposed to be three nights. But I believe that some of the changes that I made to the casting of the spell weakened it. And then you both seemed to be fighting it so fiercely. It took six weeks for me to pull Professor Snape back into a dream and he still fought that.”
“So, he truly has no feelings for me,” Hermione realised.
“Oh, child, the spell never would've worked if he didn't have at least a bit of respect for you. The magic just heightens everything for the singular intent of helping you find someone with whom you have the potential to be happy with. You chose him, but he had to be willing to ever appear in the initial dream.”
“But the spell failed, so that's the end of it.” Hermione wasn't sure if she was pleased by that realisation or not.
“Just because the spell failed doesn't mean that it's over. What I've been trying to tell you is that you both had a mutual regard for one another, even before the spell was cast. Because the spell has already pushed things along in getting to know one another, you would be foolish not to pursue anything with him.”
“But you said yourself that it was a spell. He talked to me, he was telling me things last night that I don't think that he's ever told anyone, and honestly, I doubt he ever would if it wasn't forced from a spell.”
“I lifted the spell when you two saw one another last night, Hermione.”
Hermione raised her eyes to the old woman's face and met her eyes.
“The spell was lifted well before he ever did any of those things, dear.”
“But what does that mean?”
“It means that he was telling you those things of his own free will. Whether he thought it was simply a dream or not, it doesn't matter.”
Hermione sighed again. Honestly, it truly would be easier to just remain single the rest of her life.
Fran shot her a stern, disapproving gaze. “It is not a crime to be alone, Hermione. But you have such an amazing capacity for love. After the compassion that you've shown me, I just wanted to make sure that you had the opportunity to have everything your heart desires.”
Hermione couldn't help but to smile, as it was a wistful fantasy to be a wife, mother and an extraordinary Healer. Impractical in the best of times, but she wanted it nonetheless. (Her mother had succeeded in being all of those things after.) The trouble was that with Hermione’s busy schedule she didn't have time to try to find someone who would actually tolerate someone like her. Too many men were intimidated by strong women who could actually think for themselves.
“I understand why you did it,” she conceded. “So, what do I do?”
“Whatever you wish. I won't meddle magically anymore; you have my word on that. But it would be a sad thing to leave things as they are between you. It's not as if you can wait for him to make the first move, as he doesn't know who you are.”
“True, but the last real-life contact I had with him was a rather rude letter that he sent me shortly after you fell into your coma. I highly doubt that he would give me the time of day if I were to approach him.”
“In my day the ministry held a New Year's Eve ball every year. Do they still do that?”
“Actually, for the first time in a decade, they are. Only it's on a Friday night and it would be a miracle if I could actually attend. I would need some very real magic and potions to make it work. And even if I could go, I seriously doubt that Severus would. He isn't a very social person.”
“Just have faith. In my experience, I have often found that the Fairy Tale Dreams had a tendency to be somewhat prophetic. Now, whether that was due to the witches making them that way, or if it was a part of the spell, I do not know. But it does present you with some interesting opportunities.
“Miracles really do happen everyday, you know,” Fran said with a vaguely familiar twinkle in her soft blue eyes. “Now, Healer Granger, I think that I need my rest.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you and goodnight,” she said as she rose from her chair. After a brief moment of indecision, she gave Mrs Graham a quick hug, then she turned and left the ward.
Hermione certainly had some things to think on.
~~~
Sunday afternoon, Hermione Apparated to the Burrow for dinner. She was excited to see Harry and Ginny. They had been out of the country since August and Hermione had missed them terribly. Even though her schedule was hectic and it was unlikely that she would've had much of a chance to see them in the last few months (she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen Ron), there was always something reassuring about knowing that your friends are nearby.
Dinner at the Burrow was a noisy affair in the dining room of the remodelled and temporarily enlarged old house. (Magic truly was a Godsend at times.) Everyone and their families were present, excluding Charlie and his wife, who were not going to be there until Christmas Eve. Thankfully for Molly, not everyone was planning on staying at the old house while visiting. Hermione couldn't even begin to imagine the amount of chaos that would cause. Children, spouses, grandchildren…. Hermione would actually feel like a bit of an outsider if it weren't for Remus and Tonks (as she was still called, even after marrying Remus years earlier), being there as well. That, and the fact that she'd been to most family dinners held by the Weasleys since she was in school.
She sat between Ron and Harry, and they tried to carry on a conversation about Harry's time in Norway. Of course, trying to carry on a serious discussion in a room that was full of so many people proved ultimately to be futile. Eventually the boys changed the conversation to Quidditch and everyone chimed in, leaving Hermione suddenly feeling alone and bored. Even Fleur was easily caught up in the discussion, especially as it slowly began to revolve around Wimbourne's newest Seeker, Viktor Krum.
It wasn't until dinner was over and the dishes were set to washing that Hermione was able to speak with her friends. Sitting up in Ron's old room, she found herself marvelling at how much it felt as if they were once again fifteen with only minor things such as Voldemort to worry about. Well, those were actually Harry's words, not hers, but she found herself agreeing that even though worrying about the rise of the former Dark wizard had been horrible, the struggles of adult life had their own problems.
Ron's girlfriend was downstairs cooing over Fleur's gravid belly, allowing the four of them to catch up. Hermione had to admit that the French woman was considerate of the friendship between the three of them… well, four, because despite being a year behind them in school, Ginny had always been part of their group in one way or another. Ron and Hermione listened as Harry and Ginny each talked about how they'd been spending their last few months in negotiations with a small herd of centaurs who, it was rumoured, were prophesying the rising of a new Dark Lord. Hermione laughed when Harry next said that he had found the centaurs and formed an alliance with them, but in speaking with them found that the rumours were just that… overblown rumours. Their prophecy merely stated that a dark-haired wizard would soon rise to power.
It was then that Harry told them that he was considering coming back to work in London so that he could have more of a hand at the Ministry. He surprised both Hermione and Ron when he said that he was considering running for Minister of Magic within the next ten years.
An ambitious goal for any wizard, but especially one under the age of sixty.
After twenty more minutes of hearing about Ron's latest work for the Aurors, the discussion turned to Hermione. She bored them with talk of her work at St Mungo's, and glossed over exactly how hard her work was under Healer Sedgwick. Hermione was ready for their conversation to take a new turn when Ron asked her if she'd been having any more dreams. Of course, this forced Hermione to tell Harry and Ginny what Ron was referring to, and because of her lack of skills at deception, Hermione began to tell them about the dream she'd had on Friday night followed by her discussion with Mrs Graham on Saturday.
“So, what are you going to do?” asked Ginny, in a slightly excited tone.
Ron and Harry looked less pleased, and Hermione was hoping that they'd keep any negative comments, especially when it came to Snape, to themselves.
“There isn't anything to do. He doesn't even know who he was dreaming about. If I were to approach him, I'm sure that I'd receive a less than enthusiastic welcome.”
“You can't just leave it like that! I mean, you said that the charm helped people to find the one who they desired. It sounds almost like finding your true love.”
“Ginny, this isn't a romantic fairy tale,” Harry interjected. “This is Snape. He's no Prince Charming.”
“But he is a Prince,” Ginny shot back with a small giggle.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the bad pun while Harry glowered at his wife.
The room again fell silent until Ron at last spoke, “Perhaps you should do something about it.”
Hermione could only gape at him for a moment before she was at last able to make her mouth move to ask a simple question. “What?”
“Well, you said yourself that there was some chemistry between you two, and he didn't actually bite your head off in your dream. And you said that he seemed almost hurt that you were trying to leave him on Friday night. Perhaps he didn't want it to end either.”
“Yes, exactly,” Ginny chimed in to agree. "And it's really rare to have a spell cast by a descendant of the fairy godmothers. You're lucky, Hermione."
“You've all gone barmy!” Harry snapped.
Hermione nodded. “Harry's actually right. What would you have me do? Show up at Hogwarts on his doorstep? Or go to his office at the Ministry? If I did either one of those, he'd have me thrown out before I could say three words to him.”
Her questions were met with silence, which in Hermione's mind meant that it was the end of that discussion.
After a few minutes, however, Ginny finally said, “Well, there is that ball that the Ministry is holding in two weeks. I bet that if he went there, you could see him. He might be more willing to see you during something like that.”
“Yeah,” said Ron. “You could go to that.”
“I have to work, or have you forgotten about that small little detail.” This really was not something she had wanted to talk about with these three people.
“Well, you aren't working that night, though, are you? I mean, you said yourself that your Friday nights were actually free.”
“Oh, my Friday nights are free, but that's only because I am just getting off of a thirty-six hour shift… well, it's usually closer to thirty-seven or thirty-eight…”
“But you said that was what happened in your dream also and that you were affected by some sort of spell.”
“Ron, as you just pointed out, that was a dream. There isn't a spell that works quite like that in real life. And the only potion is an Invigoration Draught, which doesn't last long enough and the side effects aren't worth it.”
“What if I told you that there is a potion that does do something like that, though?” Ron asked cautiously.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, it doesn't last quite as long as the one in your dream lasted. And once it does wear off you are pretty much done in for several hours, but it is more effective that the Invigoration Draught.”
“Ron, I really don't want to take a potion that Fred and George are in the process of inventing. I've dealt with enough of their inventions, thank you very much.”
“This isn't Fred or George's. Actually, it's something that we're using in the Auror Department and it's been thoroughly tested. It's just not widely known because it does leave you pretty knackered afterwards.” Ron looked at her. “Would you use it?”
Hermione sighed. “I don't know. It's… it's tempting,” she had to admit. “I'd have to think about it.”
Ginny gave her a bright smile while Ron nodded at her. The only one looking more pensive and concerned than Hermione was Harry… and she could almost read the worried thoughts as they crossed his face. Even if he no longer hated Snape like he did when he was in school, Hermione knew that the last thing that Harry wanted was for one of his best friends to be in a position where they could get hurt by the snarky git.
Hermione reached over and squeezed Harry's hand. “Don't worry, Harry.”
It's not as if Snape would actually show up to the blasted thing. He doesn't go to those events, she thought.
Harry relaxed and nodded as if he'd just read her thoughts.