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Secrets held	By : missM Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 2438 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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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The Dreamer�

The dreams came frequently, a vivid rendition of his life playing over and over, daring him to find and repair the mistakes. Mistakes that he could watch, but never change. A life gone by, completely out of his reach and yet taunting him repeatedly much as they had done before his capture. Usually he could stand aloof, removed from the action but forced to watch as pieces of memories danced through his head. Classes in which he had taught the trio of friends, meetings of the Order where he caught glimpses of Her, and the endless mundane conversatitheythey had shared played into him until he could recall every word at will.
But one dream came more often than all the others. And in this dream he could never stand aside as callous observer. This dream set him firmly within the frame of the man he was then, forced to experience the emotions of those two fateful memories. Completely unable to look away, and in a strange way relishing the feel of those distant and agonizing recollections. Two beautiful summer afternoons shining across the despair�

Walking slowly into Hogsmeade, he felt a bit like a man walking to his execution. While calmly scanning the streets he reflected on his decision. It had to be done. This was dangerous for her, and was dangerously close to becoming important to him. Now that she was no longer his student, they were no longer working together on anything for Potter and the Order; he had to take this opportunity to end it. That her small gift of friendship could cost her life was unacceptable.
When he saw her, his musings ended. She was looking in a shop window, alone, in a flowing white summer dress and sandals that made her look nearly barefoot. Muggle clothes. She had her wild hair braided and piled atop her head. In her hands were several bags and a small parcel was tucked under one bare arm. For a moment he hesitated, watched her from afar. She was enchanting.
He walked into the street as she looked up finally and saw him. She began to wave, stretching out her entire small frame in greeting. Her face bathed in smiles and sunlight, without a hint of diffidence. She was genuinely happy to see him! He let the thought of that wash over him slowly. This vivacious young girl, pleased to the tips of her toes to see him.
She had extended the hand of friendship slowly. Her company had been pleasant, a welcome diversion and mildly refreshing he had to admit. And he had rewarded this lovely gift by making her last two years of school as miserable as he had made the first five. And now this, the petite figure hurrying up the street to meet him. For the first time no longer his student but merely his friend. He was thankful of the distance still between them granting him time to hide his amusement. He felt suddenly� unworthy.
�Professor, I�m so pleased to see you. Have time for lunch, then? My errands can wait, I have all afternoon. You looll, ll, didn�t overdo the end of year festivities then?� she called out, laughing through her questions. He had the horrible dread that she was about to embrace him.
�Lunch sounds excellent, I haven�t eaten yet today. Though it is supposed to be tomorrow, perhaps we could have our birthday meal today, as I will be away for most of the summer,� he inquired of her, as they walked toward a small caf�. She agreed, and her eyes gleamed with delight while she chatted happily about finding the perfect gift for him. They had begun to celebrate their �birthday�, a shared date that was neither his nor her actual date of birth, shortly after they began exchanging books. They choose a date during the summer, when they might be working together but away from the questioning eyes of the school. He told himself that he was amusing her whimsy, but found himself looking frd trd to this lunch with an unfamiliar feeling. Was it� anticipation, happiness?
They finished the meal in easy enjoyment of each other. Afterwards, she handed him a small parcel, apologizing for breakine tre tradition and giving him a real gift. He found a small exquisitely bound leather journal. The pages were unbleached linen, and he ran his fingers over them slowly, his long fingers stroking the soft brown cover. It was beautifAnd And made his gift seem less� improper. He handed her a tiny package, wrapped carefully in black velvet. She started slightly as a small jewellery case fell into her palm. She looked up at him suspiciously.
�I assure you Miss Granger, it will not bite you. Open it,� he snapped with sullen impatience. Inside was a small charm, a platinum disc set with a Celtic symbol. Geofu, the letter �G�, her monogram. It glinted slightly in the sun and a matching glint was creeping into her eyes. �It is the symbol for loyalty. It seemed� rather fitting,� he told her.
She was breathless. She took the small charm out and fingered it, debating whether to proclaim it too extravagant or surrender to fancy and put it on. And then a sudden darkness crossed her expression. Her eyes spat fire at him as she said, �this means goodbye, doesn�t it? That is your intention. You made this for me, so you wouldn�t have to explain.� Her accusation was stunningly accurate. She possessed an intuition that bordered on the psychic and it unnerved him. He let his resolve paint its way across his face as answer, unwilling to speak lest it fail him. She slowly put the charm around her neck, rose, and left without a word. She never looked back.
A year later, on Order business, he found himself watching the same white dress, the same sandaled feet, the same look of carefree enthusiasm dancing its way across the street in Diagon Alley. His business there was not carefree. It was dangerous, and it knew her face. He told himself that he followed her as protection. But a small part of him was glad to see her. He was resigned to his fate, but he would not damn hers.
For an hour he wandered in murky corners and doorways to watch her shop. Slipping her small feet into pair after pair of shoes, tracing her fingers across the spines of books a look of concentration gracing her face as she searched. Finally he watched her disappear back through the hidden opening back into the Muggle world.

But this time the dream changed. The girl in the flowing white dress dangled her legs from a tree branch, laughing down at him as a silver serpent wound its way down the trunk. The perfect picture of temptation, the dream-like quality slowly solidifying. Reaching out slowly he laid a long pale finger on the dress and felt the soft cotton under his touch. Startled he looked up and asked her, �is this real?�
�No, Professor,� she laughed. �But its time to wake up now��

Author�s note- sorry thhapthapter is so long, it�s actually two but I was loath to post them separately.

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�Awakens.
Severus Snape opened his eyes slowly, taking in the familiarity of the ceiling. He knew this place well. His body ached from atrophy, his mind swam and lurched, but he was whole and alive and home. The feeling that he was not alone began to prick at him, and slowly he turned his head to look in the chair near his bed.
A young woman with raven hair and wide black eyes sat there, looking so much like someone he knew. It couldn�t be Her, could it? �You?� he asked weakly. Struggling to sit up, he found he barely had enough strength to raise his head quizzically.
�Yes, Severus, I�m still here,� she choked out in her shock. Hermione could hardly believe her eyes, but her ears confirmed that he was indeed awake. She rose to take his hand, but he pulled it out of her reach.
�Why are you addressing me in the familiar? And what on earth have you done to your hair?� he snapped. His confusion was quickly compounding. As she called for Poppy her face hardened and became unreadable. She was wearing a party dress and cape, and he noticed that she was barefoot. Looking to the window he saw the faint light of dawn, and her attire seemed entirely inappropr. Be. Before he could ask her about it, Madame Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore burst in.
�Severus, my dear boy, finally decided to rejoin us, eh? Splendid,� Albus said with obvious relief twinkling in his eyes. Poppy had tears in her eyes as she bent down to straighten his bedclothes. Before she had a chance to speak Albus continued, �I think you should lay still, or Poppy may try to tie you down, son. You know where you are, I trust?�
�Yes sir, Hogwarts infirmary. her here often enough, I should recognize it by now.�
�Of course, of course. So, do you remember how you got here?� Albus asked.
�I recall being discovered, my fellow Death Eaters were most anxious to show me the error of turning traitor. I think I can spare you the details, present company considered,� he answered flatly. �I would like to know why Miss Granger is present, and I admit to wondering about her current appearance. Poppy, honestly, stop fussing about me, woman,� he jeered. She ignored him and continued �fussing about�.
�Why I�m present?� Hermione asked incredulously. She gaped at him, then turned a fierce eye on Albus. He took her arm and shook his head slightly. �I- I- I�m here because, I was concerned about you Professor Snape. We all were,� she spat out. His proper name tasted like bitter ash in her mouth and the room had taken a sinister tilt of several degrees. Her limbs were numb and her body had gone cold. Before she collapsed Albus lowered her into the armchair.
�Miss Granger was with you when you were rescued, Severus, and has hardly left your side since. Do you recall any of that?� he asked.
Dumbledore�s words triggered a memory, Hermione�s pale body chained to the wall in his cell, bloody and filthy. �She was there,� Severus said quietly, almost to himself. �Silent, They had done something to her voice, she couldn�t speak.�
�She left her voice here, with me. A precaution, she had made it a habit when on dangerous missions,� Poppy explained. Albus glared at her darkly, he hadn�t known that Poppy helped her with that folly.
�But you don�t remember anything else from that encounter? Your... conversations with Miss Granger? Or the spell?� Albus continued.
�What spell? And I couldn�t very well converse with her, she was mute. What exactly is going on here?� Severus demanded, beginning to panic slightly. He realized that he didn�t actually remember much, and those bits and pieces he could recall were hazy. They all seemed to know something he felt certain was important. Minerva Mcgonagall joined the group at this point, adding to the small circle of concerned faces and making him feel even more like a small child on display.
�Oh I can hardly believe it, you ARE awake. Hermione, why don�t you look pleased?� Minerva asked. She took the young witch�s hand and found it was shaking and clammy. �What did I miss, Albus? Nothing is wrong, is it?�
�Minerva, could you take Miss Granger to her rooms to freshen up? I need a few minutes with our patient, alone.� The headmaster also gestured to Poppy.
Without answering him both older women escorted Hermione from the room, virtually holding her up. Once they had reached the outer infirmary Hermione cried out, �He doesn�t remember. What do I do now?�
Poppy quietly filled Minerva in on the scene she had missed. Hermione was oblivious; her whole body was trembling with weight of his rejection. As they got her into a hot bath, her head ached with the awareness that she had never once considered this possibility. Or any possibility in fact, she hadn�t considered anything in all these weeks, simply sat in a chair and let life drift around her in a fog really.
By the time she was clean, dry and dressed properly, the fog had completely lifted. Her mind cleared for the first time since her capture and it left her feeling very off-centre. Poppy had returned to the infirmary, but Minerva was seated on her bed. She looked around her room for what seemed like the first time, and it probably was the first time she really noticed it. It was a sparse bedroom, large four-poster bed draped in red curtains and bedclothes, her small trunk next to the small bedside table. Behind her was a door to her small private bath and a simple wood wardrobe. To her left the door to her sitting room stood open, to her right a fire burned brightly in the grate. There was no window.
She stepped into the sitting room, as Minerva followed her silently. It was a long narrow room, to her left the door to the hallway with a small table and two plain chairs between it and her. The opposite end of the room had another, larger, fireplace with two very old and overstuffed wing chairs facing it. In front of her, effectively centred on the long wall, was a low bookcase full of her very own books. No paintings or tapestries, no other adornments of any kind in either room. Her few possessions besides her clothes were still in her trunk, untouched. Even her books had been laid out for her; she hadn�t bothered about them in all this time.
�I�ve been living in limbo, Minerva, haven�t I? This whole time, like my nightly sleepwalking, no different while I was awake was I?� she sank into one of the armchairs. Minerat iat in the other and waved her wand to start the fire. She took a long breath before answering.

�Hermione, child, you had been through a terrible ordeal. You still face one, no one faults you for keeping somewhat to yourself,� she said. She took the opportunity to explain about what being a Compatior meant, and how she could help her study up on the subject. Hermione seemed grateful for the diversion. They remained deep in conversation until lunchtime, when Albus knocked at the door.
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Secrets held