Chapters 11-20

The Next Meeting

‘A word with you, please.’

Hermione had been about to leave the Great Hall, headed for another Charms lesson. Professor Flitwick had her practicing advanced wand movements, using an exercise wand of the same length and weight as her real wand, but with no magical powers. At the moment she rather doubted that she would ever reach sufficient dexterity to scrape more than an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in her NEWTs.

And Snape was so exceedingly deft and adroit with his fingers…

She had started considering all her efforts in relation to her studies according to how she imagined he would judge them. And for some reason she found that she never measured up.

‘Yes, Professor McGonagall?’

‘My office please, follow me. Don’t worry, it won’t take long. You’ll be in time for your lesson. And Professor Flitwick tells me that he is very happy with your performance so far.’

‘Oh.’ Hermione’s cheeks flushed with a pleasant warmth. But an insistent voice at the back of her mind niggled, ‘So you mean to tell me that dropping your exercise wand three times a session exceeds expectations? I don’t even want to know what expectations those were to start with, in that case …’

A murmured ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ opened the entrance to the office of the Headmistress. Moments later Hermione faced Headmistress McGonagall across her paper-strewn, claw-footed desk.

‘I spent the morning at St. Mungo’s,’ McGonagall said. Her voice sounded strained, her lips pressed into thin lines.

Instantly, Hermione’s mouth turned dry and her stomach quivered with nerves. ‘How…how is Professor Snape?’

Apparently the Headmistress noticed how anxious Hermione was and offered one of her rare, fleeting smiles. ‘I found him much improved—at least as far as his physical health is concerned. And it seems that luck is with us, for the moment: the name of that…speech therapist you gave Muriel—Lois Petrel, she’s the mother of one of our new First Years.’

‘Really?’ exclaimed Hermione. ‘I never knew that Alina is a witch!’

‘You know the child?’

‘Not very well, Headmistress. In the holidays I used to meet my mother at the hospital for lunch now and again, and sometimes when Mrs. Petrel had no other babysitter for Alina, Mrs. Petrel took her along to the hospital—they have childcare facilities for the employees there, though they were really designed for younger children. I remember that Alina was always very hyper.’

‘Ah. Well, due to the fortunate circumstance of Alina being a witch, Muriel Mugwort was able to approach Mrs. Petrel concerning your suggestion of speech therapy.’

‘Of course!’ Hermione cried. ‘If her daughter’s a witch, she wouldn’t need to be Obliviated!’

McGonagall nodded. ‘Mrs. Petrel has agreed to take over Professor Snape’s therapy. I believe they have met once a day for the past week.’

‘Oh, that is wonderful news! Is he making any progress?’

‘He is quite…articulate by now,’ McGonagall said in a dry tone that suggested whatever Snape had had to say to her, had not been pleasantries. ‘However, not in the way he was before the attack. You will be able to see for yourself. You may Apparate to St. Mungo’s after your session with Professor Flitwick this afternoon.’

The Headmistress cleared her throat and looked at Hermione full of sympathy. ‘Mrs. Petrel will be there this afternoon as well. She has been appraised of your parents’ situation. Therefore—should you wish to, you may talk openly with her.’

Hermione expelled her breath as if she’d been punched into the stomach.

She tried not to think of her parents. It had not been her fault. She couldn’t have known that the Ministry had cast an undetectable protection spell over her parents. She couldn’t have known that this particular protection spell would interfere with the Memory Charms she had placed on them much the way Pepper-Up Potion reacted with Veritaserum. She couldn’t have known. Therefore it was not her fault.

And at least she knew that her parents were alive. And happy. Even if they’d never remember that they’d ever had a daughter.

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said at last. ‘I’d better go to my lesson now.’

oooOooo

‘Miss Granger,’ Snape murmured as she entered the room and grimaced as if he’d bitten unexpectedly on a Bitterbark biscuit. Headmistress McGonagall had been right. His voice had changed completely. No longer silky and smooth, modulated and expressive, it was halting now, hoarse and harsh. But he could speak again.

‘Professor Snape—it’s so good to hear your voice again!’ She smiled at him, overcome with relief.

He snorted at her words, a weak, unimpressive noise, not at all like her former Potions teacher.

‘May I sit down?’ she asked politely.

He did not speak again, only quirked up a black eyebrow and gestured towards the chair with a feeble jerk of his left hand. As if he wanted to say, ‘Since I can’t remove you bodily from this room, you might as well sit down.’

Hermione sank down on the chair. On her way to his room, she had thought about things she could tell him—maybe give him news about the other Order members? Or about how Hogwarts had been repaired? That she was going to take her NEWTs soon and that she was working on a Potions project?

But now that she sat at his side, all her plans seemed to have fled from her mind. What remained were confusion, apprehension, and muddled, painful questions that she couldn’t possibly ask him.

‘Miss Granger,’ Snape rasped, his words barely audible. ‘I hear…that I am supposed to—’ His voice cracked with pain when he strained to emphasize the word, ‘—thank you…yet again…This…time…for devising a therapy to…recover my faculty of speech.’

Her heart pounding, Hermione met his gaze. His eyes were bleak, his face devoid of expression.

‘I’m just glad it works,’ she said softly.

Snape closed his eyes. ‘I am not.’