Dead of Night

By Kalina

A scream rent the silent night air, startling the young lady in the Head Girl's room awake. Eyes rapidly scanning the room, she searched for the source of the banshee howl. Seeing nothing moving within the room, she gently nudged her companion. Screams in the night were not unusual at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—what with the large population of ghosts and other fantastical beings, but something about this one made her tremble with fear. The one sharing her bed was still sound asleep. He made a sound very much like a sigh and shifted position but other than that showed no signs of stirring.

"Wake up!" Hermione Granger said, poking more firmly.

His eyes finally opened, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, and then it widened into a toothy yawn.

 “Well, try not to be too concerned,” she snapped. “You didn’t mind racing about at all hours back in third year, but now I suppose you can’t be bothered.”

As if to prove her right, Crookshanks stretched and settled back into his comfortable position at her side.

 “Oh, get up.” She lifted the cat off of her voluminous flannel gown so she could get out of bed and then dropped him back into the tangle of bedding. “Fat…lazy…should’ve gotten an owl,” she muttered as she reached for her dressing gown and cinched it around her waist. Crookshanks might have been insulted had he not already fallen back to sleep.

 She glanced at her watch: 2:32 a.m.

 Bloody wonderful. Some students playing a prank, probably, but she’d be certain to lose a night’s sleep over it - whatever it was. She caught up her wand and lit the tip with a hushed “lumos” as she followed the corridor and then the stairway down to the Gryffindor common room. Hogwarts was still and quiet, and the terrible cry she had heard was not repeated. Once she gained the common room, she paused to consider where she was going. Since no one else in GryffindorTower appeared to have been disturbed, she decided that the sound must have come through her window: The Head Girl’s room overlooked a seldom-used courtyard at the back of the castle while all the other dormitories were arranged toward the front.

She slid through the portrait hole and made her way through gloomy passageways out of the castle. Only twice did she have to stop – once when she caught the glow of Mrs Norris’s lamplike eyes at the end of a corridor and once when a ghost drifted by. Both times she managed to hide herself, and she was able to slip out into the courtyard without getting caught.

Of course, there was no one there, and she chastised herself for coming out in the dead of night on such a fool’s errand. It was ridiculous to assume that the person who had screamed would still be there - if indeed that was where he or she had been. Having been stupid enough to come, however, she decided that she should do the thing properly, so she brightened the tip of her wand and set about examining the area.

There were shrubs and benches and several small bits of statuary, and she was poking about behind a marble Goblin when her arm was suddenly caught in a punishing grip and she was hauled nearly off her feet. She let out a terrified scream, and her assailant immediately clamped his other hand over her mouth. “Shut up,” he hissed.

She nodded – all other forms of communication being denied her – and felt his grip on both her mouth and her arm loosen. She jerked her arm and he released her completely, allowing her to step away and face him.

For a few seconds they just stared at one another, both breathing heavily. She had a million questions butdidn’t know if voicing them would result in having the hand clamped over her mouth again. “Go back to your room,” he said, managing to sound desperately urgent despite the fact that his voice was barely audible. “I don’t care what brought you out here. Just go. Now.”

No. She shook her head. “I heard a scream,” she said, keeping her voice as low as his had been. “It was…awful. It woke me up.”

“To your room!” he hissed, towering over her with the obvious intention of intimidating her.

As a young schoolgirl, she would have fled, but battling Voldemort had a way of eroding innocence and blurring established lines, and one side effect of both of these things was that Severus Snape had lost his power to terrify her. He hadn’t terrified her in years, actually, and she rather thought he’d quit trying.

So he didn’t intimidate her, but he did…concern her as he loomed over her with some mixture of fear and anger flaring in his dark eyes. She would not leave him until she knew why.

“No!” She spoke louder this time – deliberately – and saw him tense. “I want to know what woke me up,” she said, watching his eyes dart around the courtyard. “It sounded like someone in pain.”

“Very good, Miss Granger,” he whispered, giving her his full attention again. “It was indeed someone in pain. But he’s fine now and would appreciate it very much if you would go back to your bloody room.”

Her eyes widened. “It was you? I heard you screaming?”

“I assure you that you, too, would have screamed under the same provocation.”

“That wasn’t what I…what happened? Are you all right?”

“I am suffering the common after-effects of the Cruciatus curse, which are currently bearable thanks to a hastily retrieved painkiller.”

“Well you should be in bed then! Or in hospital. Madam Pomfrey…”

He sighed, but he seemed more exasperated than angry. “I assure you that I have every intention of seeking my bed. However, I have an unpleasant task that must be completed, and I’m afraid it won’t wait.”

“Can I help?”

He lit his wand and pointed to a spot only a metre or so behind her. What she saw there caused her to give another startled shriek and leap away.

“Oh…my…” she whispered, as she stared into the empty eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. The Death Eater had fallen on her back, her wand still clutched in her hand and her face twisted in a silent howl of rage.

“What happened?” she asked again.

“I won.”

He watched her carefully as he waited for her response, and she thought she saw a challenge etched in his harsh features. She nodded. “One hundred points to Slytherin, Professor.”

He inclined his head.  “Thank you, Miss Granger.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“She can’t be found,” Hermione whispered quickly.

“How very insightful of you. I’m so glad you turned up.”

She ignored him. “We need to get rid of the body.”

“We?”

“Listen. Harry told me that Barty Crouch transfigured his father to a bone and buried him. Something like that would be best, I think. We could cremate her, of course, but that could get messy, and it would take more time.” She looked thoughtfully at the grotesque figure, tapping a fingernail against her teeth. Snape stared. “What are you looking at me like that for?” she snapped.

“You’re just…rather surprising.”

She rolled her eyes. “I suppose I’m meant to swoon.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Transfiguration, then?”

He nodded slowly. “It’s a good idea, but…”

“But what?”

“You’re going to have to be the one to do it. I haven’t done advanced transfiguration in years, and in my current state...” He held out his wand hand, and she could see that it was shaking.

“Yes,” she said, “Casting Avada Kedavra just after being subjected to Cruciatus…I’m surprised you managed it at all. Now let’s see…” she tapped her teeth again for a minute, and then smiled. “I’ve just the thing for Mrs Lestrange.” She abandoned the whisper as she spoke the incantation. She wanted every word to be perfect.

And it was. The body of Bellatrix Lestrange disappeared, and Snape reached down to pick up the slip of paper that had appeared in its place. “What is this?” he asked, squinting at it in the darkness.

“A blowing gum wrapper,” Hermione answered, in a tone of grim satisfaction. “We can toss it in the first bin we see.”

Snape nodded, crushing the wrapper in his hand. “Thank you, Miss Granger.”

“You’re welcome, Professor.”

They stood looking at one another, Snape restlessly fingering his wand. She was about to fill the silence between them by asking if there was anything else she could do when he suddenly leaned toward her, closing the distance between them and putting her off-balance with his sudden proximity. She inhaled the faintly spicy scent of him and felt the warm puff of his breath against her cheek, and suddenly she craved warmth…life…and moved closer still, close enough that her breasts brushed against his chest and the feeling was so right that she wanted to rub herself against him like a cat, just to feel his touch on every part of her.

This is Professor Snape, she thought wildly, and I’m touching him and wanting him to touch me and he just killed someone and I don’t even care… She nuzzled against his face, feeling the scrape of his whiskers on her cheek and the harsh line of his jaw beneath her lips. For a moment he went rigid, and then he turned swiftly and his lips were on hers, pressed hard and fierce at first and then softening, opening to her. She clutched at his shoulders, twisting her hands in the heavy wool of his cloak as his fingers closed on her hips, pulling her to him and then…oh … she was rubbing against him…couldn’t help herself…and the feeling was so good but not good enough, and as her knees went weak she wanted to sink onto the hard ground and feel his weight on top of her, covering her completely.

Instead, he pulled away, panting.

“Please,” she whispered, moving toward him again, craving his touch. Needing more. “Please…”

 “I…that’s not what I meant…” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “You need to go now.”

“Let me stay with you,” she said. “You’re not well…I can take care of you.”

“Not tonight,” he said, stepping away from her. She felt the evening’s chill suddenly. She hadn’t noticed it before.

She nodded. She wouldn’t beg. 

“I’ll walk you to your dormitory,” he said.

“I’ll be fine,” she answered. “You shouldn’t walk all those stairs.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said firmly.

He took her all the way to GryffindorTower and then stopped her just out of sight of the Fat Lady. She felt a flare of hope as once again he bent his head as if to kiss her.

Instead, he leaned down and whispered in her ear a single word: “Obliviate.”

She was so dazed in the first seconds after the spell that she didn’t see him disappear down the staircase. When her eyes would focus properly again, she glanced around and then looked at her watch, wondering what on earth she was doing out in the corridor at this time of night. She’d never been a sleepwalker before. Something teased at the edge of her mind, but she was too tired just then to figure it out. Instead, she gave the Fat Lady the password and trudged up to her room, where Crookshanks was sprawled out, hogging most of the space, as usual.

“Move over,” she muttered, elbowing the cat out of the way. He gave amrrrp of protest but quickly settled back into his favorite position at her side.

Sleep overtook the two in the bed.

End