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Nautical Acronym
Author of 8 Stories

Rated: T - English - General/Romance - Severus S. & Hermione G. - Reviews: 5 - Updated: 11-10-08 - Published: 11-08-08 - id:4644481

The Shaft of the Arrow:
With some observations on our own destruction

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Chapter 1: Purloined Paper

She had shown her to Potter and that Weasley boy before informing the rest of the staff. That was a mistake he had been quick to point out to Minerva as she sat next to the girls form, dabbing at her eyes with her creamy kerchief. He recognized it absently as the one she had been given the previous Yule. Sprout was unusually fond of such gifts and had liberally dispensed them amongst the staff. He had never been on the receiving end of her embroidered trinkets but knew her patterns changed with the seasons; In spring a yellow daisy might grace the soft cotton (usually white or a whimsical pastel), while in winter a Christmas flower or holly might flirt about the edges; however, he was sure that she had sensed the gift, though thoughtful and lovely, would have gone unappreciated and equally unused by him.

She was not entirely correct.

“I informed the Headmaster immediately, Severus.” Minerva educated him sternly as she looked to the kerchief; fidgeting with it anxiously.

“That wasn’t my point, Minerva.” He replied with a bitter calm normally not used with her, but this situation was not normal nor was it a time to loose sight of procedure and priority. There was far too much at stake for the communication between the staff to fall to pieces. “Leave it to you to inform the pack before the somewhat competent hands of the staff.”

“Oh, come off it, Severus!” She huffed, letting her concern linger on the Granger girl. Seeing that look of sadness mixed with a subtle anger cross her proud, lioness person shot warning flares cautioning him against any harsh comments. Were he to prod the wrong way now her guard would predictably leap twice as tall and hold out longer than what the jibe would be worth.

Her lips twisted into a painful frown and she reached out to the young girl, her fingers pushing back the mass of curls framing the still face of Miss Granger.

The expression on the paralyzed girl was strange in itself. Her mouth was caught in an ‘o’ shape and her eyes held the briefest manifestation of fear and surprise. As if she had suddenly understood her fate before the effect of whatever it was that kept her unmoving took hold.

“She’s so talented.” Minerva voiced calm and firm as she gently continued her motherly ministrations on the girl; running her fingers through the thick and unruly mass of Granger curls.

His first instinct was to point out that regurgitating a textbook was only considered talent when the expression became literal, but he was out of his element and aware she was looking for a response of an un-scathing nature.

“There is no cause for concern, Minerva.” He spoke quietly, observing the woman’s gestures with the frail looking girl who neither seemed aware or alive, “She will be harmed no further if we manage to ascertain the identity of the culprit.”

“Harmed no further, Severus, but she has been harmed.”

Despite the girls condition being temporary Minerva’s statement was undoubtedly true. Although, he admitted to himself that an amount of fury rose at the aging witch before him. There had been permanent damage done to him as a school boy and never had she sat by his bed, stroked his hair and defended him. She had sided with him on certain occasions, but those occasions had been so rare and so insignificant in view of the larger picture that they almost seemed too small to mention. He tried to quash the momentary jealousy. Lingering on his past was not something he enjoyed doing frequently and when he did decide to take the time he almost always accompanied it with a glass of firewhiskey.

Silence persisted for a few minutes before a slight ‘oh’ issued from Minerva. She withdrew her hand from the girl, bringing it back to her kerchief and dabbing her eyes once more. A fresh wave of grief must have snuck up on her while her thoughts lingered on her student. He couldn’t recall Minerva ever looking so old.

“What will her parents say?” She questioned. This time she wasn’t looking for an answer. It was a question they would both have an answer to after owling her parents with the news.

“Muggles?”

“Dentists.”

There wouldn’t be an Owl sent. Damnable Muggles, they would be sent a teacher instead. Minerva seemed most likely to be the one Apparating there; she was the girls Head of House after all and seemed to have a connection with Miss Granger that ran deeper than teacher-student.

“I know what your thinking, Severus,” she replied looking forlornly across the dark and altogether far too silent infirmary. “I know Granger more than I should.”

He let the room remain quiet before deciding to agree with her statement.

“You are far too personal with them.”

“At times, it’s hard not to be.” Her resigned voice replied.

It wasn’t for him. It never had been. From the very first day he had taken his position as Potions Master he had remained (in his mind) objective. That was of course up until the day Potter had arrived. That was when things for him grew personal and slightly out of control.

“I’m not used to having rendezvoused meetings with staff in the dead of night, Severus.” She informed him neutrally. She was recovering from her melancholy and was tucking away her kerchief into one of many pockets. It was a sure signal that his acidity wouldn’t shift her now repaired defences and upon realizing this he allowed a biting remark to appease the part of him that was miserable over having missed a number of opportunities over the past few minutes.

“Nor am I, but I believed you should be informed. You handled this,” he motioned his hand over the young girl, “rather poorly, Minerva. Senility isn’t creeping in I hope?”

Her nostrils flared slightly as she stood, but she still looked tired and unwilling to engage in a verbal battle of wills just yet. He didn’t engage in those games to destroy her, but for the sharp whit he knew she was quite capable of dispensing. Being burned was not what one aimed for, but it was part of the sport.

“Then consider me informed.” Her emphasis allowed an edge of irritation to grind against the syllables.

She strode past him, stopping once at the door to look at the immobile Miss Granger. That same grimace as before gripped her features before disappearing behind her façade of professionalism. She gave a quick nod to him in departure and he to her.

He listened to her footfalls as they faded into the depths of the castle. When he could no longer hear them he turned back to the young girl whose parents would no doubt by the next morning know that their daughter had been attacked, but for now slept quietly, unaware that anything was amiss.

He had given this girl little thought; she hadn’t deserved more. A second year student born by Muggles and friends of Weasley and Potter: that was two or three marks already against her (with another possibility of four depending on whose side he was aiming for). Her hand was that unrelenting one always aimed to launch for the ceiling when he asked a question. It waved about in eagerness at every moment discouraging her class mates and bringing him nearer to hexing it off. The image of an armless Granger was oddly humorous.

Her eyes were open despite the shining light of the moon; its beams of light cut white pieces mercilessly from her irises and cast shadows over her plain features. Her buck teeth were far more prominent up close.

Minerva had expressed being confused as to what the silly girl had been doing by the library, mirror in hand and unescorted. He had expressed the same confusion, but seeing those eyes: open and caught forever in a moment, were the answer.

It took a mere instant to invade her mind and roam its unmoving contents. Small memories were hazily hanging about, most of them with Potter and Weasly, others clotted with faces he didn’t recognize. In his invasion he found his goal and withdrew: head bent and back aching. For being thirty-one his back became immeasurably stiff at the most inopportune of times usually transforming his small triumphs into anticlimactic annoyance.

And there was the object he had bared witness to being ripped from a library book; its neat, folded corner just poking out from beneath her childish fingers. He reached across and pulled it, taking care not to damage the slip of paper.

Its crinkled fold-lines protested to opening and made much ado in the dark and hollow room.

He scanned the contents once, twice, three times, then angrily furrowed his brow, making sure to give Miss Granger his most depreciating scowl in the process.

She had theorized that the beast from the Chambers was a Basilisk and it fit - easily. She had even figured in how a great creature such as that could roam the school unseen.

Pipes.

He sighed and returned the paper neatly folding it and placing it back into the cold grip of Miss Granger.

“Had you not figured this out, you insufferable girl, it is very likely you would be dead.”

With that parting declaration he took his leave of the dark, but warm infirmary casting himself out into the dangerous halls of Hogwarts, making sure to take the most direct root to the Headmasters office and to the intolerable man of that title himself.

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AN: This takes place in CoS. In truth, this was just a strange thought that came to me. I’m not promising on a weekly update or even a monthly one. Just something that came up when I was writing. The title is a play on Aesop, but doesn’t (at the moment) have anything to do with what’s written. I refuse to say plot because there isn’t one :P

I like having odd titles and such. Some possible ones I came up with were:

How the West Was Won: and how this wasn’t the west and I couldn’t win.”

The Mechanisms of Friendship: With a treatise on the use of oil.”

And, “Chirotera Lubricus: or ‘how it might sound polite, but your still a greasy-bat.’ ”

Anywyas, I hope you all like it, please let me know if characterization needs work or what, It has been a VERY long time since I wrote anything remotely Harry Potter. This takes place in an AU world because that’s easier for my AU brain to comprehend.

I'm a little disappointed with the word count. I had a huge passage in here, but it made the whole thing hokey and strange. I lost about a page of writing to my unforgiving editing.

Hope you all enjoyed this… thing.

!!!

Update Notification: I fixed up this chapter and added some more detail to it. Also made some minor corrections with word usage and such.

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Harry Potter is property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and their affiliates.
*** This is a non-profit fanfiction posted for entertainment purposes only. ***
I'm just having fun :)



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