Chapters 11-20

Accumulating Life-Debts

Raised voices shattered his reverie. Two he recognised at once, Minerva McGonagall and Healer Mugwort. The other voice he couldn’t place at once.

Then the door was thrown open with a bang, and Dolores Umbridge snarled, ‘I know he’s awake. And I insist on talking to him now. He’ll be called up as a witness for several pending trials. And then there’s his own…’

‘The decision of the Chalice of Neith is final,’ protested Minerva McGonagall.

‘That’s what you think,’ Umbridge hissed. ‘And now I really need to talk to the…patient.’

His eyes flared open, but in that instant two things happened nearly at the same time: Granger jumped up, putting herself between his bed and the door, and somehow she managed to find his left hand under the blankets.

Cold, thin fingers curled around his hand, holding on tightly—as if her life depended on it.

‘Headmistress McGonagall!’ the girl cried. ‘Professor Snape—he tried to speak—but he couldn’t—and then—then he fainted!’

He took his cue from her and became perfectly still, even though that meant he had to leave his hand in her grasp.

‘What happened, Miss Granger?’ Professor McGonagall hurried to the bed and had the gall to actually place her hand on his forehead. It was all he could do not to jerk back.

‘I—I—He wanted to speak—but he couldn’t—and then, I think the exertion simply got too much for him—and he—he simply fainted.’

He almost snorted. You didn’t need to be a Legilimens to realise that the girl was lying. But the level of her anguish was certainly authentic, and just obvious enough that it might—maybe—fool Umbridge.

Then Healer Mugwort raised her voice, ‘Out! Out! Everyone of you. And Umbridge, don’t you dare set foot inside my ward again unless you come with Aurors and a warrant. Out! He’s had a relapse. Yes, Miss Granger, even you.’

Reluctantly the fingers that were still holding onto his hand loosened their grip.

He heard movement, muttering, the door closed, then silence. He gave it another five minutes, then he exhaled deeply and slowly opened his eyes. Muriel Mugwort sat in the chair Granger had vacated, her keen gaze resting on his face.

Snape attempted a smirk, but that hurt the muscles in his throat and he winced. Muriel flicked her wand over him in the slow wave of a diagnostic reading. Green and red runes lit up in the air above his body and faded again.

‘Well,’ the Healer said. ‘That Umbridge is really a nasty piece of work, isn’t she? You’re lucky that the Granger girl reacted so quickly.’

A sharp metaphysical tug let him know just how lucky he had been. He seemed to be accumulating life-debts these days the way a stray dog acquired fleas. He closed his eyes again. You’ve got no idea, he wanted to say. But his voice failed him. So he just mutely shook his head.

‘You need to sleep now,’ Mugwort said. ‘Your energy levels are very low.’

He wanted to shake his head again—hadn’t he slept long enough during the last six months? But even that small movement was too much. Fatigue dragged at his mind like lead weights, and everything grew dark.

oooOooo

Hermione recognised Mrs. Petrel the moment she entered the Isolation Ward. Lois was a petite woman with very pale skin, and long, dark brown hair that she wore in a stern pony tail, much like Professor McGonagall’s bun. But her chocolate-coloured eyes were warm and understanding, and her whole demeanour was always very calm, quiet and unthreatening. She was the kind of person who put you at ease. Someone you could have sitting at your bedside in silence all day if you were sick, and you wouldn’t feel bad about it at all.

The amazing thing about her daughter was how different from her mother Alina was. The little girl looked almost exactly like her mother (only her hair was a little darker, and she promised to grow tall). But temperamentally they were complete opposites—Alina was a little dervish, always on the move, sprightly, impulsive, hyper.

Well, Hermione thought, as Lois Petrel was walking towards her, if Alina is a witch, maybe her temper is not so surprising after all. I wonder which house she’ll be sorted into…

Lois ignored her hand and simply embraced Hermione, holding her tightly for a long moment. ‘I am so sorry, Hermione. I had no idea.’

Hermione drew a shuddering breath. ‘Of course not. And—’ She forced a shaky smile. ‘My parents are well. So there’s really no need…’

Lois drew back and gazed intently at her. ‘You’ve really grown up, Hermione.’

‘Healer Mugwort is still with Professor Snape. There was—a—an altercation, but everything’s under control now. I think it’s best if we go to her office and wait there for her.’

‘A cup of tea would not come amiss, I think,’ Lois said. ‘I assume you can do the…’ She waved her hand in the air as if she were holding a wand.

Hermione smiled. ‘Yes, I can.’

‘How convenient.’

Once ensconced in Muriel Mugwort’s comfortable office, Lois carefully looked her over, and Hermione wondered just how much McGonagall and Mugwort had told the therapist about past events in the wizarding world. A lot, she suspected, and Lois’ next words rather confirmed that.

‘Hermione, you do realise that you don’t always have to be strong? Even adults are allowed to be weak. And to need help. I know that we’ve been barely more than acquaintances in the past, but I am a link to your old life. And you do belong to my daughter’s new world.

‘If you ever need someone, a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear…I’ll be there for you.’

Hermione drew a shivering breath. ‘I—Lois—thank you. That is—it—means a lot.’

And it really did.