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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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By Severely Snaped
Severely_Snaped@yahoo.com

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Chapter Four: Up the Down Staircase

The next week was spent going over notes mostly in his room until he could
spend longer periods of time in the study without it tiring him out too quickly.
They discussed more of the factors in Riddle's potion and she tried to help him
with old memories whether in the classroom or as colleagues, but he would change
the subject shortly afterwards, uninterested. Their talks were civil at best,
and both kept their tempers to a dull minimum. She still brought him his meals,
and the only thankful factor he could think of was that at least he didn't have
to put up with Poppy. Aside from Albus' visits, the Granger girl was the only
constant in his daily recovery.

She was used to him calling her 'Miss Granger' again and when they did work
together, it was mostly quiet unless they happened to be working on similar
tasks. He did grimace, however, if she reached into what he considered to be an
off-limits cabinet or peruse through his ingredients. He practically had to use
all of the energy left in him not to yell at her when she used up the last drop
of liquid bone on one project. All in all, the more he was around her, the more
uncomfortable he was, despite all of her efforts to get him to remember
something, anything. He even hated that his own familiar, a large, black
angular feline by the name of 'Intrigue,' seemed to spend just as much time
rubbing against her ankles as it did his.

She brought in several picture albums for him to look at and almost had to
shove them under his nose for him to cooperate. They were both getting hot under
the collar at this point, each frustrated with the other, but before either
party let the first insult fly, they realized something that could play an
important factor in the potion's purpose.

"Please," Hermione nudged, exasperation beginning to show in her words. "Just
take a look at some of these. If nothing else, at least one. Maybe it
will trigger something in the back of your mind...I don't know." She sighed
almost at the same time he did. It was late afternoon and the both of them were
getting tired; Severus, especially.

He rubbed his temple, trying not to snatch the album out of her hands like he
so wanted and sat down, opening the book as if he were doing her a great favor.
After flipping through four or five pages, he sneered in disgust.

"Is this what you wanted to show me? Pictures of Potter and Weasley
and random pictures of the castle? Oh, wait a second...I feel so much coming
back to me," he spit out with heavy sarcasm.

She furrowed her brow, and reached over, flipping back to the first page. She
was too close for his own liking and it reminded him of the week before, with
her leeching onto him shortly after he awoke. Whatever she was wearing smelled
nice, he had to admit, as her voice cut through his thoughts.

"I wasn't trying to 'ruin your evening' with their images, but I was trying
to show you these pictures of me because I thought it might help. Like this
one," she said, pointing at one towards the bottom of the page. It showed her
seated in a classroom, reading a textbook.

His frown deepened as well. "I see nothing but a desk and an open book." They
looked at each other.

"Odd," she said, shaking her head slightly. "You can't see previous images of
me at all." She stopped for a moment, heavy in concentration, before retrieving
the book from the bottom of the pile. She openened it and flipped to a certain
page, explaining: "Maybe it will only delete my picture from wizarding
photography. Here, here is a regular non-magical snapshot. Can you see me
there?"

This time, he could see a picture of a young girl, probably around age eight,
sitting on a rug in front of a fireplace with a kitten. He nodded, and she
showed him some more photographs. There were some of Hogwarts, but very few.
Most of the ones taken at the castle were from wizarding cameras.

"So perhaps the potion is directed to attack one's magical aura. Isn't there
a part of one's brain that is related to magical enhancement in general? If the
effects are one a more physical nature such as that, then...Dumbledore is
probably right. It's probably irreversible," she whispered.

No, she told herself. It can't be. It just can't be.

"Both are questionable, yes. However, I don't suggest that we waste all of
our free time on it as there is other work to be done, Miss Granger. Therefore,
we will narrow our research of this down to one day a week, preferably
Mondays."

"One day a week?!" she sputtered. "Aren't you the least bit interested in the
one potion Voldemort specifically made for you and you alone?"

"I'm curious, yes. But seeing as this 'elixir' of his hasn't
killed me, crippled me or rendered me mentally incapable, I see no reason
to make it my first priority. I lost a little memory. So what? You're still
here, your presence is still visible to me and if there's something I've
forgotten, you can just remind me. God knows you'll do that at least a
thousand times a day. Aside from that, I see nothing further to discuss about
it."

There was no denying the hurt look in her eyes this time, and for a moment,
he truly felt like the bastard he was being. He hadn't intended his words to
insult in any way, and he was surprised at her reaction, but for some reason he
still felt guilty. It surprised him even more when she didn't press the issue,
merely collecting her picture albums quietly before excusing herself. When she
didn't return by dinner time, he knew he had touched a nerve in the girl. He
summoned a house-elf to bring him something light, and ate in silence.

The next two days were spent in solitude as well, aside from a small owl
dropping him a note asking if he needed anything from the apothecary, he didn't
hear from her otherwise. When he returned to his laboratory that evening, he
noted that she had indeed picked up two more bottles of liquid bone, and a good
deal of the other ingredients he was low on. All were neatly labled and in
precise order.

He could also tell that she had spent the first half of the day in there due
to new scribblings on some of her notes, but thought it strange that she wasn't
in here working on them now. She seemed as if that was all she ever did. The
girl didn't smack on gum or talk about her girlfriends or any of the guys she
had dated, she didn't ramble on about sales at Madame Malkin's even though her
clothes were in fairly good taste. She didn't freak out if she chipped a nail
and not once did the girl look at him and say: "Like, what is a morphite
fallicleus enhancer, anyway? Sounds like something I put in my hair."
That was, in fact, something he remembered one air-headed girl spout off
during class one day. But Hermione was just the exact opposite. Her whole life
probably centered around a classroom.

Speaking of which, was something else he needed to discuss with the Granger
girl. He saw no reason why he shouldn't return to his teaching. If the girl took
on half of the classes as she said she did, then she could remain to do so until
he regained his strength completely enough as to take up the rest. He didn't
like the fact that she was responsible for teaching any of his classes,
and couldn't believe that he was ever comfortable enough at one point in time to
allow her to do so. Yes, the girl was smart. Yes, she would probably make a fine
teacher's aid. Having her teach without a degree,on the other hand, was
something that he went strongly against.

She was just finishing up a class, ironically, when he did see her again. He
made himself stay away from the classroom that morning despite his inner
curiosity wanting to see her 'supposed' methods. The last student was leaving
the classroom, mumbling a nervous "Good day, Professor Snape" to him before
running off to his next class. She was organizing the three stacks of paper on
the desk and re-grouping sets of ingredients simultaneously. He watched her for
a while without saying anything, she was obviously unaware of his presence.

Her mannerisms were very close to his, that observation could not be denied.
Yet there was something else about her he couldn't place a finger on. She moved
the grouped sets of ingredients to the far end of the room and put them back
into their proper places. She had carefully picked up his inkwell to re-fill it
when he cleared his throat, and she looked up immediately.

"Professor," she nodded. There was another air of indifference about her, but
again, just as unreadable. The girl was still a stranger to him and his days
tended to lapse into some strange surrealism, especially when she was present.
Almost as if he were in some warped reality by Dali or Picasso. He slowly
crossed the room.

"Miss Granger," he said dryly, barely nodding his own head. "I trust that you
are keeping my students up to date as far as the yearly curriculum is
concerned?"

She stiffened slighty, turning back to her task. "I wouldn't be in here
teaching this class if I went about it any other way, Professor." She set the
ink well down, toying with the lid briefly.

He eyed her for a moment. "Some of the papers I managed to look through last
week on the third-year classes seemed a little too easy, if you ask me. I do not
expect my students to know the basics of what looked to be some type of 'bubble
bath' mixture."

She looked up this time and straightened herself. "I wasn't the only one
teaching your classes while you were in the hospital wing, Professor Snape."

"Oh?" was his only reply, mocking her. "Albus, I'm sure."

"Yes."

"So in times of crisis you had to rely on him to help you teach? Instead of
putting in an extra one-hundred and ten percent..." he started, trying anything
he could to rile her up, even though he didn't know why. He still felt bad about
what he had said to her a few days prior, but for some reason he couldn't say
anything otherwise.

She cut him off. "Excuse me, but for the last three weeks we were all
pretty much worse for the wear. Albus didn't get any more sleep than I did and
we all did what we could to help out."

"Don't complain to me about your bad sleeping habits," he hissed, knowing
that he was over the line but doing nothing to stop it. "Maybe if you cared
enough about your job..."

That really did it. She crossed the room in a heartbeat. "How dare
you," she said in a tone that was deadly quiet. "You don't know the first thing
about my teaching methods and as for the majority of the past month---we were
all worried about YOU, you pompous son-of-bitch!"

"You will hold your tongue, Miss Granger! I will not stand here to be
insulted by an..."

She crossed her arms. "Well you ARE! You were always the first to admit
it!"

"...intern who knows nothing about what she's doing!" he spit out. "And
you're after a degree in potions?" he chuckled. "You should go back to school
and settle for something more suited to your skills, like bartending or..."

The next words weren't even able to form on his tongue as she reeled her hand
back and slapped him so hard that his vision blurred for a moment. He almost
didn't even hear her running out of the room when he straightened up, regaining
his composure. What bothered him most was that he didn't even know why he kept
riding on her like that. He cursed lightly, feeling his cheek, still sore and
probably bright red. He knew he deserved it, but he didn't know what possessed
him to say the things he did. He made a promise to Albus that he would try his
best to adapt to this new situation despite the circumstances, and he was
failing miserably. Perhaps a talk with the old wizard would indeed help him sort
things out in his head. Still rubbing the throbbing side of his face, he headed
for the old man's office.

When he got there, however, he realized he wasn't the only one heading in
that direction. He paused before entering, listening intently at the door. So
maybe he wasn't supposed to be eavesdropping, but he was, after all, a
Slytherin. He heard her almost barely, as her voice was soft, but he could make
out every word just as much as he was sure her eyes would be wet with tears.

"...all the same, I still shouldn't have...slapped him...not like
that."

"Sometimes we act without thinking, my dear girl. The both of you just need
some time to cool off."

"It's not the same, Albus. I can't do this."

The older wizard spoke up quickly, almost echoing half of the talks he had
with Severus. "You can and you will, child."

"It's not the same...he's not the same. It's like...oh God, I don't
even know where to begin." She sighed heavily and put her head in her hands,
unaware that they were being overheard. "I could re-invent the whole bloody
science of potions altogether and it still wouldn't be good enough for that
man."

Albus toyed with his beard and chuckled. "That's just Severus being
Severus," he mused. "You've been through this before, and you can do it
again."

She looked up at him, at a loss. "I'm not going through seven years of this
again. I mean, I know there was a time in life that I was used to this---or I
should say, used to that, from him. But when we became colleagues, it was
different. We respected each other's spaces and we rarely argued and he wasn't
questioning every last...thing...that I did. And now that all of this has
happened, he's acting as if he's Adolf Hitler all over again and I'm just...not
used to that. It's as if I'm dealing with two different people altogether."

"Be patient, Hermione. I know this isn't easy for either of you."

"That's just it, Albus! I know Severus has probably felt as if he's in some
strange dimension ever since regaining consciousness, I know that. I'm
trying not to let all of this get to me, but it's...hard. I've tried talking to
him about the times when I attended as a student here, and I even tried showing
him some of my photo albums, and the truth is---he's just not interested. He
finds a way to talk about anything but the issue at hand. If I had known
in foresight that all of this was going to happen, I would have finished
Voldemort off with my bare hands months ago."

Severus flinched. He knew the girl was upset, and even though her voice was
even he could hear the rage in her words. Why was this so important to her? Yes,
she had a right to be mad, but she was going a bit overboard. Wasn't she? Again,
feelings stirred within him that he wished would just go away. He felt mad and
sorry for the girl at the same time.

"Are the two of you still discussing Riddle's potion?"

"Yes. However, he suggested limiting our research in that area down to one
day a week."

Albus thought for a moment. "Then I suggest, Hermione, that you let
him set the pace on this. As for you, I want you to get out this
weekend."

"But Albus, I have too much I need to..."

"It can wait. You've put in more than your fair share these last few
weeks and whether you feel it or not, you need to take a break. Go to London for
a few days."

"Albus, please." Her voice cracked. "I've only been there once since..."

"I know, my child. I know. But you need to do it for yourself, as well. You
might not realize it, but it just may lighten your load in the longrun." Upon
hearing the old man's words, Severus was thoroughly confused, but didn't dwell
on it.

She nodded her head solemnly. It probably was time to be getting on in that
direction. The previous year, both of her parents were killed in a plane crash
of all things. There were no Death Eaters beating down their door, no insane
gunmen bursting into the family dental practice, no large truck forcing them off
the road. It was just another unfortunate tragedy in everyday Muggle life.

They were in a small twin-engine plane that had belonged to Jonas Middleton,
a friend of her father's. It was one of those rare, sunny days without a drop of
rain in sight. Clear and beautiful, perfect weather for flying. Her parents,
along with three other family friends, had accepted the offer of a day's holiday
gladly. They journeyed across England, touching down in the small town where
Jonas grew up. They spent the day there, and from all accounts had a lovely
time. It wasn't until the return trip back home that the alternator on the plane
lost power. Hermione didn't get the owl until the next morning.

"I probably should be getting back. There's not much left I have to do there,
anyway. Mum's brother took care of most of it for me. I suppose I should pay him
a visit, anyway, just for all he's done." Albus walked over to her, giving her
another go-get-'em hug.

"Just enjoy yourself for once, Hermione. And don't you dare come back early."
She smiled bleaky and they shared a few more words before she excused herself to
get ready for the next class, laughing and telling him that it wouldn't look
right for the teacher to come in with red eyes. As she walked out, she was still
unaware of the other presence in the corridor. Her footsteps had long ceased
even being the faintest echo when Severus rolled his eyes as Albus called out to
him.

"Well, are you going to come in or are you going to stand out there all
day?"

Severus was at least grateful that despite everything else that was
upside-down in his life, Albus was still the same.

--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes
------------------------------------------------
Thank you thank you thank you again to all of those who have read and
reviewed, and I do read ALL of them. Feel free to use my e-mail address for
those of you who have questions, it makes things a lot easier. If I had the time
I would reply to every single one of you. Between writing and kids and work and
yoga, when I DO have spare time...I veg out and do NOTHING... Isn't that
horrible? We constantly write about the lives of other people and wish we had
time to improve ours! :) Thanx to all of you who have stuck by this story and
those of you who are fans of the others who are patient with the updates. I know
as a reader, it can be frustrating when you wait on a new chapter. I have about
30 stories on here, myself (yes, I maxed my limit...lol) and there are days when
NONE of them have updated and I'm all whining into my coffee and acting like a
Snape. So I do thank those of you who excercise your patience. :)

Still Strange, S.S.
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