• 1-Mnemosyne
• 2-Chapter Two
• 3-Chapter Three

“I don’t understand what you want me to do about it, Albus,” exclaimed the somewhat irritated Potions Master.

Albus pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He waited for several seconds, pulling together his thoughts, before answering.

“Severus, what I saw today in that young woman is the same hurt, anger and guilt that I saw in you so many years ago.” He paused, staring intently at the younger man, despair and helplessness evident in his clear blue eyes. “I don’t know how to help her anymore than I knew how to help you.”

He held up a hand to keep Severus from interrupting as he took another breath.

“Severus, when you came to me all those years ago, I was as helpless then as I am now. I didn’t know what to do for you. I only knew that I had to do something to keep you from harming yourself or from losing you completely. So I offered you a position here, as well as guidance and support for whenever you needed it. You were the one who brought yourself out of your depression, you alone. I must admit that I still have no idea how you did it, only that it was because of you. I feel that it is the same with Hermione. However, she has been allowed to sink into her depression far more than you have. I had not realized until she returned to us the extent of her deterioration. I fear that the time spent away from us might prove to be her undoing, that we might be too late for any help to be much affective. She is far worse than you were when you approached me.”

Here, he paused once more, a hand brushing wearily over his eyes before meeting its brother under Albus’ chin.

“However, I refuse to give up hope that she is lost to us forever. I know you still do not overly enjoy spending time with others. But you have changed, Severus, in these past years. Many people call themselves your friends, and there are times when you are even civil to them,” he said teasingly before continuing in a more serious tone. “If you are willing, and I truly hope you will be, I am asking you to…take Hermione under your wing…you could say. She needs the same support and guidance that you once did, but she seems unwilling to accept it from myself.”

“And what makes you think she’ll accept it from me?” Severus asked incredulously. “I haven’t seen the girl in years, and when I did see her on a regular basis, I made her life a living hell. The only time I have ever given her any reason to trust me was during the final battle, and even then I turned around and made some snide remark. As much as I would like to help, Albus, I genuinely don’t see how I can be of much use.”

Albus watched Severus for a few minutes. Speaking quietly, he asked his friend, “Do you think then that she is a lost cause? Should we not even try?”

Severus sighed and shook his head. “No, we have to try. She is too valuable to our world to let her just give up and shrivel away.” He sighed again. “I still don’t know why you are asking me this. Why not Sirius or Filius or that new teacher she was hanging onto last night?”

Although he did not reveal anything, Albus was amused and surprised at the loathing heard in Severus’s voice when he mentioned ‘that new teacher’. Not having time to think upon it now, he filed that potentially useful piece of information away for later speculation.

“She respects you, Severus. No matter how many times you ridiculed her, or didn’t call on her, or took off points, her one goal was to impress you, to make you praise her. You made her work to her full potential and she realizes that, respects you for that. And even though in all the years you’ve known her, you have never once given her any sort of praise, at least not to her face, I believe she will still try to prove herself to you. You were always the biggest challenge to her and I don’t think that has changed. Because of this, I think she will listen to you, allow you to help her in some way. You are also probably the only one who would be able to get her to talk. The rest of us, we are too easy on her, too afraid of hurting her feelings to push her too far. Do not take this in the wrong way Severus, but you were never the type of person to care what others thought about them. You were and are also never afraid to push someone to his or her limits, no matter what happens. I feel that you are the only one that could get her to talk to us, to let us help her heal,” Albus finished, sitting back in the armchair, waiting for Severus’s answer.

After several minutes of silence, Severus finally answered with a sigh. “I will think about it, and do the best I can. I’m not promising any results, Albus,” he said at Albus’s sigh of relief. “But I will try,” he finally said.

“That’s all I ask, Severus. That’s all I ask,” Albus replied, patting Severus’s shoulder as he stood up to leave.

“Although if I do this, you have to let me do this my way, with no complaints or interference from others,” Severus warned. “As you yourself said, everyone else would be too soft.”

Not expecting this, Albus turned to look at the younger man before nodding in agreement.

“Not everyone will like how I am going to do this Albus, and people will try to stop mell tll them not to.”

As Albus processed what Severus had just said, at what he was implying, he nodded again and simply said, “Don’t be too hard on her. And if you need any help at all, you know where to find me.”

Severus grunted in response, and Albus once again turned to leave.

* * * *

After leaving the headmaster’s office, Hermione wandered the halls aimlessly, lost in thought. She spent most of her meandering berating herself for letting everyone see that something was wrong with her.

Her musings were interrupted with a quiet, “Hello dear, password?”

Jumping in surprise at the sudden question, Hermione looked up into the kind eyes of the Fat Lady in Pink, the portrait guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

Misreading Hermione’s sharp intake of breath, the Fat Lady said to herself, “Oh, that’s right. You’re the new Head of House...no need for a password, deary. Especially since there are no students,” she chuckled to herself before swinging open the portrait with an “Enjoy yourself, dear. And nice to see you back after so long.”

Realizing that she would have to go in to the room eventually, Hermione picked up her robes and crawled through the portrait hole, emerging in the large common room.

Looking around hesitantly, Hermione was flooded with images of all her friends and housemates from the past. She could picture the Weasley twins sitting in that corner over there, testing new products on unsuspecting first-years, and surrounded by their group of friends.

And over there, under the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, the Creevey’s and their friends would sit and discuss different tidbits about photography and compare Muggle and Wizard cameras and pictures. There were the study tables where she spent most of her first year, and the time before all exams, books piled around her. Walking over, she gently rubbed her fingers over her name, which one of the Weasley’s had chipped into the aged wood, signifying it as ‘Hermione’s Spot’.

And of course, the chairs by the fireplace, where people would congregate to play or watch a game of Wizard’s chess or Exploding Snaps. And the three chairs that she, Harry and Ron occupied most frequently. Those were where they had spent many hours hunched close together; playing, working, relaxing, plotting any mischief, and of course, puzzling over the many adventures they had had. She could still visualize Ron and Harry sitting over a chessboard, pretending to play while the three of them discussed some plot or another concerning the welfare of all Hogwarts attendees.

It was so vivid in her mind that the picture brought tears to her eyes, which she fervently swiped away as she turned her back to the chairs. Now facing the stairs to the dorm rooms, Hermione made her way up to her old quarters. Entering the room that she had shared with Lavender and Parvati for seven years, nostalgia once again hit her full force.

Three huge four-poster beds occupied most of the room, in exactly the same spot they had been when Hermione had left so many years ago. Images of Parvati and Lavender trying to force her to join their girl-parties and the all-night boy chats came to mind. Now, in retrospect, she wished she had joined her two mates more frequently.

Making her way over to the bed that had once been hers, she ran her fingers up the mattress until she reached the head of the bed, where Crookshanks used to sleep. Wiping more tears away, she sat down forlornly on the bed, still looking around the room. Remembering those happy times so long ago, Hermione lay down and cried softly till she fell asleep with tears silently streaming down her face.

* * * *

Albus sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. Taking in the young woman’s crumpled apparel and tear-stained face, he sighed again re gre gently shaking her shoulders.

Awakening slowly, Hermione sat up in surprise as she realized that it was Albus who was shaking her awake.

“Albus…what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to smooth out her clothes and wiping her face with her sleeve.

He smiled slightly at her before answering. “When you failed to appear at lunch, a number of us grew rather worried, my dear. We had been searching for some time before one of the portraits mentioned you had talked to the Lady at the entrance of the Common Room.” Pausing for a moment, and gazing at her intently, he finally asked, quite hesitantly, “What is ailing you child?”

There was silence for several minutes as Hermione sat and stared at her hands. Thinking she would not answer him, Albus sighed and stood up, a sad smile on his face. As he made his way towards the door, her small voice stopped him.

“It’s so hard being back here,” she said, repeating her words from that morning. After he turned and sat back down on her bed, she continued slowly in a small, uncertain voice.

“After all that had happened, I had to leave. It was too much…being here with all the memories and not with the real people. It was too overwhelming…too suffocating. I was never able to breath, or think, or anything. I had to leave. I thought that it would be all right, coming back here so many years later. Especially since I haven’t been back for those long years. I…I thought I had moved on, or at least gained control of myself. Coming back here, and being near everything…I think it’s more of the fact that there are so many people missing…and that they should be here with me, instead of me.” As she finished, she rose and began to pace in order to calm herself.

“Hermione,” Albus injected gently, before she had a chance to continue, “Why have you forced yourself to believe that they should be here instead of you? You of all people know that everything has a reason behind it. Why do this to yourself when you know, deep down, that as upsetting as everything is, it is the way it should be.” He paused and frowned as she snorted with disdain.

He started again, his voice troubled, “Hermione, please exp…”

He was cut off as she turned quickly, waiving her hand to stop him from continuing. “You don’t understand Albus, and I am not going to explain it, even to you. I’m fine, really…or at leI wiI will be fine.”

She raised her face, eyes haunted and pleading him not to continue his interrogation. “I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, Albus. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my rooms now and see you at dinner.” With that, she turned on her heels and practically fled from the room.

Albus sighed deeply and sank back down onto the bed, stroking absently at his long white beard. He pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing again and standing up. As he made his way to the door of the room, an almost non-existent noise stopped him.

He smiled as he turned around and stated, “You can come out now, Severus.”

In the far corner of the room, a whispered “Finite Incantatem” was heard as Severus Snape blinked back into existence. If he was at all surprised by Albus knowing he was there, his face revealed nothing, schooled into a blank expression.

Breaking the silence, Severus said softly, “She obviously blames herself completely for the deaths of Potter and Weasley, as well as many others. Although how she managed that has escaped me, especially since it is Ms. Granger we are talking about. I don’t understand how such a brilliant mind could coerce itself into believing she was responsible for the deaths of her two friends. However, I do know that Ms. Granger does nothing halfway, so if she does blame herself, we are going to have to fight extra hard to convince her otherwise. No doubt she has been spending these last years trying to forget everything she could about Hogwarts and what happened here during the final battle, and being here probably did not help that at all.”

“Do you still think you can help her?” Albus asked hopefully.

“Possibly,” Severus said thoughtfully. Looking at Albus, he continued. “However, I must warn you again that many people will not like how I will go about this. She needs to face facts, Albus, and it will be a nasty and harsh awakening for her. You need to tell the staff not to interfere.”

Albus nodded wearily before tilting his head towards the door. The two men walked out of the dormitory and the common room and back into the quiet halls of Hogwarts.

* * * *

Hermione quickly made her way out of the Gryffindor Tower, fleeing as fast as she could without actually running. She sped down the many staircases until she found herself in the main entrance of the massive building. It wasn’t until she was outside and strolling in the warm sun that she began to slow her steps, and to try and steady her breathing.

she thought angrily. she mentally cried.

Sinking to the ground under a tree, she messaged her aching temples, trying to relax after her trip through the castle. She didn’t pay any attention to how long she sat there until a shadow fell over her closed eyes.

She opened her eyes quickly and her hand flew to her wand. Upon realizing that it was only the young bubbly witch from the night before, she lowered her wand arm apologetically.

“Hi! I am so sorry to scare you, but I was out walking and I noticed someone over here sitting by themselves. It was such a beautiful day and I don’t know anyone, so I thought I would come over here and introduce myself,” the woman said extremely fast and then blushed a becoming shade of pink. “I must apologize again. When I get excited or nervous, I tend to babble and run-on quite a bit. I must admit that I am a little of both right now.” she said, and paused, looking around. “Aunt Poppy has always told me so many stories about this place, but nothing compares to actually being here don’t you agree?” the young woman asked, a tad slower than before but with the same amount of energy. Before Hermione had a chance to answer, however, she went on in a rush. “Oh, but I’ve done it again. I’ve talkedmuchmuch and not even introduced myself! I’m Elizabeth Pomfrey, but everyone calls me Lizzy. I’m the new Medi-Witch, which you probably already knew, because of my last name,” she said, extending her hand to Hermione.

Hermione, fairly stunned by the buoyancy and enthusiasm of the younger woman, dazedly put her own hand out and accepted the other woman’s handshake. “I’m Hermione Granger,” she managed to say, before she was pulled back down to the ground.

Adjusting her skirt so she could sit Indian style, Lizzy gushed, “Oh, I know! I remember from Albus’s introductions last night. Oh, how odd it is to call him Albus. Aunt Poppy has been working here for years, so I’ve always known him as Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“I know what you mean. I went to school here and for seven years, he was Headmaster, and now he wants me to call him Albus. It’s more than a little surreal,” Hermione agreed as Lizzy paused.

Hermione listened as Lizzy began to recount stories of her years as a teenager here, visiting her aunt during the summers while her parents traveled. Hermione found that it was quite soothing to listen to the woman ramble; she had found out that Lizzy was not so young after all, only about four years younger than herself.

Hermione was content to sit and let the other woman’s words wash over her for a good portion of the afternoon, interjecting comments here and there. It reminded her of the conversations Harry and Ron would have about Quidditch that she would dutifully ignore, but still listen to their voices. As she thought of the two, she immediately changed the topic of conversation to something that would let her not think of them.

“So why did you decide to become a Medi-Witch?” she asked.

Lizzy laughed. “Well, when you spent most of your holidays and summers with a Medi-Witch, you tend to pick up things here and there. When I was about 14, I remember being here that summer and Aunt Poppy hady moy more people than she usually had to look after. She let me help, and I loved it. When the Final Battle was over, I helped her and the others after everyone else had left. We never worked together, because you left almost right after it was over,” she said, having sobered halfway through her speech.

Hermione looked down at her hands that were clenched around several pieces of grass. “Yes….well…” she started guiltily, but was interrupted by Lizzy.

“Don’t worry about it, there’s no reason to feel guilty about leaving. Anyone else would have too, having been through what you had to deal with,” she said, uncharacteristically somber. “Aunt Poppy has mentioned, however, that losing you as a Medi-Witch was most definitely a tragedy. From what she has told me, you are quite talented,” she finished, smiling warmly.

Hermione answereth ath a small, strained smile of her own. “Hmm,” she said noncommittally. “Even so, I try to stay away from Healing now. I leave that to the Medi-Witches.”

“But aren’t you still a Medi-Witch Hermione? I mean, you passed your test a long time ago, and you once were a fully licensed Medi-Witch. I didn’t know that something like that title could be taken away just because you don’t practice anymore,” she said in confusion, either not seeing or ignoring the way Hermione stiffened significantly.

“I think it has more to do with the fact that I no longer think of myself as a Medi-Witch, that I no longer want to think of myself as one,” Hermione answered softly, silently begging the woman to let the subject drop.

Lizzy gazed silently at Hermione for several long moments before they both jumped at the sound of the dinner bell.

Hermione thought ironically, as she recalled an American Television show that was quite popular with the students she had taught in America.

“Hermione,” Lizzy said as the two were getting up. “I do so hope we can become friends.” At Hermione's nod, and as she was about to walk away, Lizzy placed a hand on Hermione’s arm. “And if there is any situation, any whatsoever, that you need someone to talk to, or cry to, or just to yell and scream at, I hope you will feel comfortable enough to know that you can come to me. We may only have known each other for one short afternoon, but I don’t really think that matters, does it?” she asked, staring intently at her.

Hermione was shocked and surprisingly warmed by the other woman’s statement. She nodded, her eyes expressing her thanks at the offer, before the two began their journey back up to the forest, Lizzy once n thn the jovial witch from the beginning of the afternoon.