Chapters 51-60

The Most Stupid Thing That People Do

At noon Snape found himself in front of McGonagall’s office. He had just finished a round through the castle, which had yielded a satisfying total of 144 ¼ House Points. It irked him somewhat that the ¼ point impaired the beauty of the Fibonacci number. It irked him more that he had been forced to take that ¼ point from his own House.

The gargoyle slid aside, and Harry Potter appeared.

Snape jerked back. What was that boy doing here?

Potter glanced at him and nodded politely, ‘Professor. Is Hermione in her room? I thought I might pop in for a moment, if she’s not too busy.’

‘What?’ Snape stared at Potter in disbelief. ‘Is that you, Potter? Or is it your evil twin…or rather, your “good” twin? Which is rather more shocking.’

Harry Potter stopped dead and really looked at Snape. The careful scrutiny of those brilliant green eyes was quite discomfiting. A lesser wizard would have squirmed under the young auror’s probing stare. Snape merely scowled.

‘I have reason to believe that you…may find her in her room.’ A pause. ‘It’s good of you to come and…see her, Potter.’

Potter frowned, and opened his mouth, but at the last moment he seemed to reconsider. He ended up shaking his head instead. ‘You look like shit, Snape.’

Snape’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Does that convince you that I am myself?’ The young man grinned impudently. ‘And I think Minerva wants to see you. Something about House points, I think.’

He nodded again, and strode off towards the staircase, leaving Snape to gape after him.

‘You know,’ Minerva remarked. ‘He’s right. You do look like shit.’

oooOooo

If there had been any doubt about how much worse for wear he looked, that was dispelled when Minerva poured him a generous dram of Ardbeg the moment they entered her office.

Snape slumped down in one of the armchairs before the fireplace and raised his glass to her. ‘Cheers.’

Minerva took the seat on his right. ‘What happened, Severus?’

‘What happened? What didn’t happen?’ He contemplated downing the whisky in one gulp. As the Ardbeg was one of Minerva’s favourites, he stood a good chance not to survive such a sacrilege. He sipped the whisky, then he put the glass on the table between the armchairs.

‘I can’t do this, Minerva,’ he muttered. ‘The way she looked at me, as if I had broken her heart…’

Now it was Minerva’s turn to put her glass aside.

‘Severus,’ she asked carefully. ‘What have you done to Hermione?’

Snape laughed bitterly. ‘You gave her to me. You forced me to train up my own successor, and yet you ask that question?’

‘Your successor? Severus—’

‘But I can’t, Minerva. I’m so tired. For a while I thought I might enjoy my last three years…but now…people are being killed left, right, centre.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m so tired,’ he whispered. ‘Even if she had to take over next week, I am sure that Hermione would…would do a good job. Probably a better job than I ever did.’
He cupped his face with his hands. ‘I promised not to ask this of her…yet…but I…I don’t think I can wait much longer, Minerva. Umbridge wants my head; she wants me in Azkaban even before my probation is over. And I will not go back there.’

‘Ask what of her?’

He sighed wearily and raised his head to face Minerva. ‘To kill me, of course.’

‘Severus…please tell me that I just misheard what you said. You asked Hermione to kill you?’

He shook his head irritably. ‘No, I did not—I wanted to, on Christmas day. But she stopped me, she—she seems to suffer from some ill-conceived Gryffindor notion that there may yet be a way to “save” me. Foolish girl.’

The headmistress stared at him, aghast. ‘You promised Hermione on Christmas day that you would not to order her to kill you yet?’

‘Yes, that’s what I said, didn’t I?’ He glared at her.

‘What happened to change your mind?’ Minerva’s voice was shaking, but he barely noticed that.

He picked up his glass again. For a moment he stared at the amber liquid. Then he thought, What the hell? And downed the Ardbeg in one gulp.

‘I kissed her.’

oooOooo

‘Ha— Ha— Harry!’ Hermione took one look at him and flung herself into his arms, sobbing desperately.

Awkwardly he patted his friend’s back. ‘Hermione, what’s wrong? What happened?’

‘The plan, The Plan, it, it has fai– failed. I—I—failed.’

He hugged her close, then pulled her back into the dark corridor beyond the dungeons and into her room. Once inside, he led his friend to her bed and sat down next to her, his arms around her. Hermione cried in great heaving sobs, as if her heart was shattered, and her tears the broken shards.

‘Hermione, calm down. Please. Or I will have to Floo Madam Pomfrey. What happened?’

‘I—he—I—He kissed me.’

‘Did he hurt you?’ There was no question who ‘he’ was.

‘Harry,’ she gasped, trying to suppress another sob and failing miserably. ‘I am so stupid. I am so horribly, horribly stupid.’

‘Hermione, if you don’t tell me what happened right now, I will call Minerva!’

Hermione buried her face at his shoulder. ‘Iwuvim.’

‘You what?’

She lifted her face. Her eyes were red, her face blotchy, her lips trembled badly.

‘I love him,’ she repeated.

‘You what?!’

Harry bit down on his tongue, hard. Then he counted to ten. Then to twenty. Then he took a deep breath.

‘But…Hermione, please don’t take this wrong, but…I admit this is quite a surprising…development…However…as far as The Plan is concerned, what is so bad about…uh…being in…uh…love with him? Especially if he—if he kissed you?’