A/N - I don't think it's necessary to repeat the same disclaimer at every chapter. If there's anything new to say, I'll say it when it comes up.
YAY reviews!!! Thank you all! If anyone else feels like contributing, all thoughts welcome. Thanks.
Some very special thanks for:
Sooboir: That was the line that got reaction from my best friend, also. Rock on!
mavidian: Yeah, adult!Hermione is gonna be a hard character to write, but I find I'm a lot like her myself, so I figured I should give it a shot!
All Mighty Terrestrial: Evil House Elf conspiracy? Damn, dude, Ima have to check out that long list of fics on your profile page! Don't be surprised, however, if the house elves do show up... mwahaha.
Jessicat1982: Yeah, that nightmare... had to really think about how he'd act when his subconscious takes over. Fun to delve into Snape-psychology!
Sorry this chapter took so long. Dream sequence took forever. One Hundred house points to whoever emails the best explanation of my symbols and therefore forshadowing! My reference: Dreamer's Dictionary, Garuda. Plus, I don't know what happened with my HTML tags screwing up... so, trying again now. Thanks!
Untitled Work In Progress
Chapter Two - Let's go back a bit...
He was scared. She was taking the same direction he had at her age, and this just scared the hell out of him.
Severus Snape wasn't one to be easily frightened by some young Gryffindor know-it-all, so he watched her. He made a mental note of each day that there was public sight of Hermione Granger, and the number of occurances had indeed slowed down. He watched as her potential brilliance withdrew into seclusion. Even a staff meeting would sometimes bring another professor's concern for her out, and she would just shrug it off and change the subject. This was not good.
However, the more Snape watched, the easier it became for him to like her. She was an amazing teacher, although some students liked to pin her as 'strict.' That is, until his presence was made aware of. She had grown into an attractive young woman, he remarked to himself one night in his own seclusion. Modest, but nonetheless attractive. She must go through conditioner like mad, he decided, the way her brown hair was much smoother and wavy these days rather than curly and frizzy.
Snape snorted and sat still for a moment. Then he quickly rose from his char at the unlit hearth and headed for the shower.
The house elves had lit a fire in the hearth by the time he emerged from his private bath, hair now shiny rather than greasy. That fire would be ignored, however. It was late, but Snape had a feeling Hermione would actually welcome a little flare of drama. She was a Gryffindor, after all.
No interruption came as he stalked up the dungeon steps. Peeves darted out of his sight on the next staircase, and then he was heading down the hall to Hermione's rooms. The swift movement allowed for a thoughtless journey, but once he was stopped in front of her door, he hesitated. He didn't believe in preparing a speech when the time came to express some emotion.
Again Snape snorted and remained still for a moment. The he quickly raised his hand and knocked.
"Heeeey Professsorr..."
Problems. One - her pupils were dialated and her speech was slurred, which translates to: she was drunk... or high. Two - while on a drug of some kind, she had called him 'Professor,' aka, 'someone never thought of in that way.' Damn.
He sighed. "You are drunk, Professor Granger. You ought to go to bed now."
Her eyes widened and she very obviously forced a gasp. "I'mmnnotddrunk!" She giggled and turned around to half-dance, half-stumble to her chair by the fire. "...drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk..."
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. I'm in love with this woman?
"Snape! Baby, come sit down!"
Hesitant, he moved farther into the room, but simply stood at the edge of the hearth. There was only the one chair anyway.
"No, come sit rrriiiiight here." She patted the arm of her chair with one hand and reached for a clear, unmarked bottle with the other. Oblivious to Snape's lack of motion, Hermione took a careful sip of whatever drink she had and grimaced before turning and offering it to him.
Snape inwardly shrugged. This was the chance to figure out what she was drinking, and, what the hell, if anything regrettable was said or done he could blame it on the alcohol later. Really there wasn't much missing from the bottle. He saw no others in the room, so how could she really be drunk from so little? Before even thinking of tasting he brought the bottle closer to smell it.
Holy fuck, it nearly burned off his nose hairs. Well... this was interesting. Hey, if Hermione Granger could drink it, he could surely manage. An experimental sip was nearly spit out. It tasted like... peroxide. "What is this?" he asked, a bit harsher than he really intended. He would have to monitor that habit if he wanted to make another out of conversing with her. Maybe when she was sober she would just be smart enough to understand.
Hermione shrugged with no recoil to his tone. Thank God. "Dunno... but if you're not gonna hav'nny more, I'll take it baack and keep it aallll for mysefff."
Time to chug it.
Memory not often failed Severus, but when trying to pinpoint the moment pure unconsciousness ended and the half-reality of dream began, a problem usually occurred. Especially when the dream took place in near darkness. The moment was, in fact, when his subconscious stuck him on the far side of the lake, nearer to Hogsmeade. A new moon relaxed in a blanket of stars, and the town was silent behind him. In front of him was the cross of two paths, and immediately he opted for the southeastern route, right over the lake and towards Hogwarts.
Hogwarts castle, however, was now turned into a fortress, as castles were originally intended to be. His feet knew the path, and his eyes stayed on the slowly revealed details. Fort!Hogwarts was ablaze and thick smoke poured into the sky. A very sharp, cold wind blew up in his face before completely switching direction so there was no smoke obscuring his view.
If Snape had seen what was next in the real light of day - or night, whatever - he would have questioned the amount of toxins in his brain. However, at the moment, this vision of Dumbledore headed his way - wearing a plain skirt and with horns growing out of his forehead - was perfectly normal but for a small hint of fear creeping up within him at the sight.
He was unable to react or even think as Dumbledore grasped Snape's arm and displayed it toward the castle, although there was no human audience. "Severus Snape, can't you see who you are!"
That small hint of fear blossomed into panic as visions of his old Deather Eater ties danced before his eyes. He tried to scream, but his voice was all fuzzy and scratched and stopped, like a broken radio in water.
"A traitor to all, you can go back to Voldemort!"
Snape had last seen Voldemort three years past. He was nearly in full power then, and had managed to reclaim the good looks of his youth. This Voldemort was a ghost of that image. He was supposed to be dead now anyway, but it was still a shocker in a dream where Dumbledore appeared to be alive and kicking. Ha, bad pun, since he actually was kicking Snape to get his feet moving. He still had a grip on the arm with the Dark Mark, now burning black, and this odd angle of pressure began breaking bones where Dumbledore was kicking at his legs.
When Dumbledore's grip slackened, Snape's first instinct was to run. Not possible on broken legs, until the crutches appeared under his arms. Voldemort was too fast, though, and came right up behind him, wrapping both arms around him. Snape was losing badly now, and started to sob. He blinked hard once in an attempt at holding back those damned tears...
And it was over. Morning light met his eyes upon opening, as well as a thousand sensations different from the dream. There was a being at his back, he could tell, and he whirled around to face it. Ah! It was all so confusing! A split-second's look registered the unknown being to be Hermione Granger, and he immediately sat straight up. What he could recall of the previous night flowed into focus, but bedding Hermione was not archived anywhere.
"What in the hell is going on?"