Chapter Text
If someone had told Hermione Granger, at her first term as the new Ancient Runes Professor, that the seeds for a friendship with Severus Snape – still brilliant, but sourly Potion Master – would have been planted after her first staff meeting, she would have deemed the chances of that happening as nonexistent.
And yet, it happened.
They bonded thanks to their shared somewhat awkward social skills, their mutual enjoyment of solving complicated puzzles, and shared dislike for uninspired conversation.
She had, mistakenly, taken Professor Snape’s own copy of The Sphynx, leaving her own behind, and, after reaching her quarters, perched comfortably on her navy sofa, she had proceeded to solve the pages dedicated to riddles and charades.
She had discovered the existence of the magazine during her Mastery, because the younger sister of Mistress Babbling, Sara, who had insisted to be called upon by her given name, had gifted her a copy, saying that she needed to do something else to amuse herself than dusty tomes.
Hermione had learned very quickly that solving the riddles during her breaks kept her mind sharp and helped her focus better when she resumed studying.
Moreover, she had discovered that she particularly enjoyed riddles crafted by a specific author, which were always put in the section “for experienced solvers”.
The pen name they had chosen was Oὐδείς, that meant “nobody” in Ancient Greek. It was a refence from the famous episode in Homer’s Odyssey, in which Ulysses, the protagonist, answers thus to a cyclops, Polyphemus, who wanted to know his name.
The name Odysseus had chosen turned out to be a very cunning one: after he had blinded the cyclops with a wooden spear, in order to prevent the giant to eat him and his crew, Oὐδείς would be the answer Polyphemus would give to the ones asking who did that to him.
She had thought that the riddle of someone who had chosen that kind of alias would definitely be worth reading. She hadn’t been disappointed. Their riddle was long, complex, and full of references to not so well-known myths, literature and astronomy.
She had been captivated by the inner works of their minds.
She had started collecting them, creating a notebook only for that purpose: its cover was a dark forest green, and embedded in it was the copy of the image on a vase that depicted one of the most famous solvers of ancient times: Oedipus with the Sphynx.
Thanks to Oὐδείς’s work she had finally found the time to read again about ancient civilisations’ myths, so putting that image on the cover seemed a fitting way to commemorate that.
Hermione was used to solitude, and to become so absorbed in her work that she took no notice of the passage of time, therefore it had been strange when, a few hours after she had started dissecting Oὐδείς’s new creation, she had been startled by a knock on the door.
She had opened it and found herself in front of Severus Snape.
To say that she had been flabbergasted would have been an understatement.
“It seems that you have grabbed the wrong copy of The Sphynx after the staff meeting”.
And before she had the time to answer that, he had entered her quarters, and was rifling to the page of the copy she had been writing on, stopping when he had reached the pages where there were the Arithmancy puzzles’. Showing her that he had already starting solving them, because there were annotations in his spidery handwriting.
He was looking at her with his back straight, eyes piercing and assessing, as if he was expecting her to challenge his claim.
“Oh, I’m really sorry for the inconvenience!
Would you like tea while I transfer all of my answer to my own copy and erase them from yours?
Because I don’t like to lose the answers I’ve already found …
Or if you don’t want to wait I can give your copy back to you as soon as it is done. Would it be better?”
He seems lost. As if he isn’t accustomed to someone accommodating his requests.
After all, I made the mess, why shouldn’t I offer to put it right?
The astonished expression on his face faded quickly however, replaced by his stoic one.
“That would be acceptable”.
A pause.
“Thank you”
She smiled at this, and summoned a new teacup for him while she put the kettle on.
“Do you want me to transfer also the annotations you have made on my copy?”
She had noticed that there were a few, they were easy to spot because he used an ink that saturated the page in a different way from the one she used.
This is it. I’ve found the way to put Professor Snape out of his depths: treating him with kindness.
Who would have thought of it?
A terse nod.
And while seated he straightened, again, his eyes hard.
But no matter how hard he tried to school his features he couldn’t mask the glinting curiosity that made his eyes spark while he observed the spell she cast and while he observed the answers slowly writing themselves on his own copy.
Then, while she was starting to erase her own answers on his copy, he stopped her.
“You can leave them. If you want.
I don’t enjoy very much solving riddles and sharades.
I prefer Arythmancy’s puzzles”.
“Really?
I’d thought you liked them. I still have the parchment of the one you crafted in my first year. That was brilliant!”
“I might have enjoyed crafting it, but solving not so much.”
After an awkward pause, in which both were staring at their own copy, observing the slow process of the enchantment, and Hermione was internally panicking trying to find something to say, and he appeared as calm as ever, he jolted her from her spiral.
“Are you finding it difficult?”
“What?”
“The last one. I noticed that you haven’t scribbled near it like the rest.”
“Oh no! Not at all”.
And she started telling him about her notebook, and the reading she had done in order to solve all the riddles by Oὐδείς.
Am I boring him?
I really hope not …
Then the conversation moved to why he preferred Arytmancy’s puzzles – apparently, his mother had loved them – and so on.
At some point the tea had gone cold and Severus – who had offered his name at some point during her conversation about Oὐδείς – had taken his leave.
But not before adding that, because the magazine was expensive, maybe they could share the cost, considering that each of them was interested only in half of the publication.
She had realized a few months later, that the sentence had been a very Slytherin way to say that he would enjoy sharing his copy with her.
It had taken two months more for him to say that he too enjoyed solving puzzles in the evenings when he didn’t have rounds.
This time – having spent more time around him– she had understood right away that he didn’t mind the company.
It had taken a few years of banter, and shared copies of The Sphynx, for her to start having suspicions on who Oὐδείς might be.
After all, wasn’t it curious that somehow, the references started to be about topics that she had had always wanted to explore but had not had the time?
And coincidentally, she had previously admitted that to Severus just a little time before.
But still, she kept her suspicions to herself, because she enjoyed the look in his eyes while she talked about Oὐδείς– entirely too smug while wondering about a person he supposedly didn’t know, but endearing.
Sometimes she just talked about some obscure reference she had find just to see one of his rare smiles.
However, everything changed when she discovered that Severus, who had left her quarters a few minutes before because he had rounds, had left the notebook she had gifted him for his birthday there.
It was a dark blue, almost black, and on the cover she had put the first Arytmancy’s puzzle he had solved with his mum while he was little – finding it had not been easy at all.
She had grabbed it and was on her way to the door when she tripped on the rug, the notebook fell on the floor and a piece of parchment fell out of it.
It was worn at the edges, as if it had been folded and refolded unnumerable times.
Strangely, the handwriting, while still being Severus’ spidery one, was neat.
As if he had tried to make the letters as clear as possible.
It was a riddle.
It looked like it, at least.
There were little paragraphs who seemed to have no obvious connections to each other and appeared strewn together.
It was also a letter.
And it was addressed to her.
Well, in theory.
The recipient was the daughter of Helen and Menelaus, whose name, according to myths, was Hermione.
Dear daughter of Helen and Menelaus,
Being near you is like flying too high near the sun,
And yet, I yearn to observe the deep purple hue of the Highlands shining upon your cheek, hoping against hope that our story would be different
Then, while we walk debating on why every generation imagines itself more intelligent than the one before, and wiser than the one that come after it ...
you’ll realize that we could never reach a conclusion, you’ll turn towards the stars, and ask Spica for an answer.
How could you expect to receive an answer from a luminous sphere a billion kilometers away will always be a mistery to me.
Just like your refusal on taking the “Dittany” last year.
These are the dreams I find myself lost in: please, thread softly on them.
I find myself wishing that we could be like the dragon who eats its tail: unhurried and everlasting.
I know that as Runic Mistress you cannot choose the Rune that will give your future and that represents who you are and will be.
If I were the one to choose, I would select Uruz.
Always yours
Oὐδείς : S. = Μενελάου θυγάτηρ: H.
Her previous task forgotten, she began solving it.