A/N- This little story has become a new itch. Until Of Gold and Steel is completed, expect these chapters to come slowly.

Snow

The Sound of Silence

Chapter One

Minerva McGonagall stood outside the classroom, her head cocked to the side as she listened to the sound of thumping from within. The thumping was the reason she'd come so far from Hogwarts. She folded her hands before herself, listening intently as the rhythm of what sounded like African tribal drumming picked up its pace. Her gaze flicked down to the letter folded neatly into her grip, a letter that had come most unexpectedly and presented her with the unique opportunity. She glanced down the hallway of the third floor of the Sumner School of Magic, and found herself quite alone for a brief moment in time. The letter was duly unfolded and read again, simply to ensure there was no mistake.

Professor McGonagall,

I can't thank you enough for your letter of recommendation to the Ministry for my apprenticeship; it has opened more doors than you know. I've settled in at the Sumner School of Magic quite nicely, though the weather is so very different from Hogwarts, and Atlanta can be a bit stuffy, it is lovely, and a nice change of pace. When I arrived, I expected my Mentor to be frightening, rigid, and almost as intimidating as Professor Snape. My apprehension was unmerited though, and I find the apprenticeship to be enjoyable, and the Potion's Mistress here to be good company.

She is a woman who is known in those circles, and in his last letter, even Professor Snape had words regarding her that were not unkind. From him, they were high praise indeed. He did mention that she was known for her unorthodox approach to teaching, and I've come to understand full well what that means. Unorthodox is an apt term, but her techniques are quite effective. Professor Snape's most recent letter mentioned that you would soon be looking for a teacher to serve as his replacement this term for the position of Potion's Master at Hogwarts. He obviously doesn't know I'm writing you, he would be livid. Let's just say that he does not agree with unorthodox… anything.

I have not mentioned this either, to Elizabeth Connell either, you really need to see her in action. If ever you trusted me, Professor, I ask you to trust me now. Attending one of her classes alone is worth the visit, and it would be so very nice to see someone from home.

All the best,

Hermione

Minerva had received the letter almost two weeks ago, at the Easter holidays. A few well-placed plans, some quiet arrangements and off she'd gone. Snape had been absolutely appalled when she had mentioned the potential new teacher, even more snarky when he'd found out it was an American, though when she had pressed him about the name, he had grudgingly admitted the witch had skills. "A keen mind, but a blunted pen." He'd said, and Minerva had fought back a smile.

The sound of the beat inside the room and she braced herself against the potential headache as she folded the letter once more and tucked it away. She stepped into the room, instantly finding herself blasted by the tribal drumming she'd heard. A muggle style cd player sat on a low table at the side of the room, and speakers mounted high on the walls around the room lent the distinct impression she'd stumbled into the wrong room. However, the sight of teenagers leaning over the bubbling cauldrons proved her wrong. Here and there, feet stomped along to the beat, and the a few hands tapped on the table, keeping time. Minerva slipped to the back of the room, observing quietly. At the front of the room, a young woman snapped her fingers in time to the beat. She spoke not a word, simply kept her fingers above her head as she began to make her way down the left side of the classroom, apparently oblivious to Minerva's presence.

Only a few feet away, Hermione Granger moved behind the woman, her hair pulled neatly back into a severe bun that brought a smile to Minerva's face. The young Miss Granger had indeed grown in the past year, and now possessed the full measure of grace that had been so long in coming. The instructor lowered her hand, tapping one young man on the shoulder, her finger flying once she'd gotten his attention. Hermione's voice came from beside the teacher, directed at the lad. "Lower the heat a bit." The young man flushed and nodded, bowing his head back to his work as his foot faltered before finding the beat once more.

Minerva watched as the young woman came to a stop at the last row, her brow furrowing as she caught sight of the stranger standing by the door. A questioning glance was given toward Miss Granger, along with the elegant fluttering of fingers. Hermione gave Minerva a sweet smile as she responded to whatever question had been asked. Minerva's questions were confirmed in that moment as she recognized vaguely some form of sign language. A smile tipped up the corners of her lips. Granger seemed rather adept at it, fluid even and moved forward with the woman, her voice lifting. "When you've finished your potions, bottle them and leave your samples on the desk. We'll review tomorrow before the final exam on Monday."

The teacher gave her a faint smile, though there was perhaps a trace of nervousness with it. Minerva inclined her head toward the young woman and remained where she was. Hermione approached, her arms slipping around McGonagall's shoulder in a warm hug. "Professor, you got my letter."

Minerva offered a smile. "I did, Miss Granger. You were right, Severus was quite put out that you mentioned it to me, but I'm glad you did. I was wondering just what you both meant by 'unorthodox', and I see now."

Her eyes strayed to the students once more, observing them. For the most part, they seemed relax, their movements precisely timed to the beat of the drums as they stirred and simmered. She'd never, in all her years at Hogwarts, seen a single student of Potions so relaxed, not even under Slughorn. The technique did bear exploring, however unorthodox it might seem. Hermione spoke once more. "Professor Connell asked me to show you to her office. She'll join us once the class is dismissed."

McGonagall nodded, her eyes flicking over the classroom once more before turning to go. "I could do with a bit of tea, Miss Granger. I have plenty of questions, and best not to do it on an empty stomach."

Elizabeth Connell flicked her eyes toward the door as her apprentice and the older woman left. The visitor was expected, certainly not unwelcome, and yet it still brought up a case of nerves, as though she were a mere girl once more up for examination by the board that had granted her license. The last student filed up to the desk, placing the pepper-up potion on the immaculately kept surface. She waited impatiently for the last of the sophmores to file out of the room before slipping out herself and warding the door before making her way to her office.

The door was open when she arrived, a pot of tea placed on the low table between the two pairs of wingback chairs the flanked the massive fireplace. She cleared her throat, pushing the door closed behind her and crossing the small space to where the two women sat. Immediately, they both rose. Elizabeth inclined her head politely, accepting the older woman's hand before lowering into the chair across from her. Hermione's hands flew, nimble fingers confirming the woman's identity. Elizabeth relaxed as she studied her foe. The woman appeared stern, though her eyes were kind, a critical gleam in them as she sipped her tea. When she lowered the cup, her lips moved, and to Elizabeth's surprise the worst fear she'd had proved to be unfounded. Despite the quirk of the accent that was apparent, she could understand every word as she read her lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Connell. Miss Granger spoke quite highly of you. I was curious to see your teaching methods and now I confess, I'm even more so."

Elizabeth struggled to keep the nervousness from her voice as she broke her silence, a quick glance to her apprentice confirming that she was speaking at a soft volume. "Thank you. It's a method that a few schools began to experiment with several years ago and so far has proven quite successful with the students. Potions is an art that requires precision, as much as Arithmancy or anything else based in the magical sciences." She paused for a moment, leaning to pour her own cup as she continued. "The theory of rhythm might seem radical, but my student's performances had greatly improved in the last two years since I implemented the method."

It was controversial at best. Over a thousand years of tradition in potion making had been set on its ear when the technique of disrupting the usual silence of the potions lab was traded for blasting Nine Inch Nails at fledgling ears. Thank God she didn't have to hear that crap. It had proven oddly successful though, and she was grateful that she herself, only felt the music through her toes, or her hands on the surface, rather than hearing it at the volume the children had to. The irony of loud music used in the classroom of a deaf music was not lost on her. In fact, it was one of the things that brought a smile to her face. You had to take fun where you could get it, particularly when repeating the same information dozens of times a week, year after year.

Minerva McGonagall appeared distinctly surprised for a moment, her eyes forming a question as she glanced to Hermione. Miss Granger gave the smile that Elizabeth had come to know as a humorous one. The girl was smart as a whip, and possessed a sense of humor that rivaled Elizabeth's own. Elizabeth watched, sipping her own tea silently, letting Hermione explain what she had come to know the first day. "Professor Connell wasn't born deaf. It was an accident when she was a teenager, so she can speak, just doesn't very often."

Elizabeth lowered the cup to rest it on her knee as she spoke once more. "My volume control is a bit wonky, Professor McGonagall. In the classroom, Miss Granger acts as my interpreter, given how quickly she picked up on ASL. I do speak privately, when it suits me, to facilitate the comfort of those around me, but not often. When in a group, keeping up with lip-reading can be nothing short of exhausting. It takes concentration, and I can't hear how loud my own voice is, so I end up whispering or almost shouting, neither of which gives the impression that I prefer to give."

The Scottish woman observed her for a moment and when she spoke again, the single word was easily read on her lips. "Remarkable."

Miss Granger saved Elizabeth from further explanation, speaking toward the other woman once more. Elizabeth pushed back in her chair, watching the exchange with no small amount of humor. "Professor Connell told me earlier she's speaking to make a good impression. Apparently Professor Snape is held in quite high esteem in his field, even overseas."

Elizabeth broke in then, praying her voice was soft, gripping her teacup tightly. "Severus Snape is a man who's knowledge in Potions is unrivaled. His published works, his research… it's amazing. Though I do not agree with some of his theories, there is no denying, the man is smart. The mere idea that someone might think I'm suited to take his position is nothing short of flattering, Professor."

She was rewarded with a rueful smile, a shrewd expression that spoke of something more Elizabeth did not know. The older woman's smile morphed into a triumphant smirk. "Severus is certainly smart, in most ways. But I hope that you can contend with his nosiness. Tell me more about this theory, Professor Connell. I find it most intriguing."

Elizabeth relaxed, leaning forward to settle the teacup on the table between them and giving a nod to Hermione before she lifted her hands to launch into explanation. Speaking made her uncomfortable, guarded and wary at best. Her hands were far more adept at expression the details, the beauty of her potions and her passion for it, than were her clumsy words. She knew her voice was flat, she knew her eyes crinkled at the edges when she had to concentrate on reading lips. She knew, a vacant expression descended on her as she tried to work out what was being spoken by lips too thin, or tongue too fast. And so, she reverted to what she knew best, and with it, her confidence rose with each passing moment. She wanted this job and she'd do her damnedest to secure it.