Hermione Granger woke with a start. She always did, these days. She let the man next to her remain wrapped around her legs as she lounged, relishing the feeling of having slept. Sleep had been a rare commodity in her life for quite some time now. She blinked, the light from the window burning her gummy eyes through the thin curtain. Realizing how late it must be, she cursed under her breath and untangled herself from his brown and muscled limbs. She was immediately impatient, but slid out of bed slowly so as not to wake him. If there was one thing she despised, it was mornings after, and she avoided them whenever possible. For this reason among many, she preferred spending her nights with faces that had no name or context within her life. It was easier that way. She dressed quickly and quietly, already regretting the breaking of one her cardinal rules – for this man was no stranger.
She located a bit of parchment and a nub of a quill and scribbled a quick note in her neat, sure handwriting. "Lee – Sorry to rush out, but I didn't want to wake you. I have an early meeting to attend. – HG"
As she finished, he began to stir; she scowled and clamped down on her illogical panic. With a soft pop, she was gone.
---
She was once again presented with the panoramic view of the grand castle and its grounds, iron gates rising forebodingly as the only barrier between where she was and where she wanted to be. She wrapped her hands around the cool black bars, feeling the strength in the rigid line of the metal and taking comfort in its solidarity. She'd always been struck by the beautiful juxtaposition of the straight rods and the flowery adornments at the top, intricately intertwined like vines woven around the twin hogs that rose above. She breathed deeply and something about the smell of the wet Scottish air eased her unspoken fear that the school would not welcome her as it once did. Somehow, in all the melee, Hogwarts had managed to remain Hogwarts; still, its call beckoned her to it like a Siren tempted sailors to the sea. Tentatively, she tapped the heavy lock with her wand as she'd been told. The iron shifted beneath her slightly callused hands as the gate slowly groaned open to admit her. Stepping almost reverently beyond the threshold, she let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she'd been harboring. She moved one step forward and then another until she was halfway across the grounds towards the stone structure that was so dear to her heart.
The castle doors swung open almost before she reached them, and hastily, she wiped a single tear away as she found herself in the Entrance Hall once more. She wanted to run as fast as she could to the Great Hall, to Gryffindor Tower, to the library, to all the places that had been hers what felt like so long ago – but jerkily, fumblingly, she slammed that train of thought out of existence before it furthered, knowing where it would lead her. Her first stop must be the Headmistress' office, she reminded herself forcefully. Nothing could happen before that. She began the all-too-familiar trek determined to make no stops, but couldn't resist the temptation the Great Hall presented. She paused to peek inside, and even though she knew what to expect, could not help but be shocked at its sheer emptiness without three hundred or so students filling it. Shaking her head forcefully, she turned away a bit too quickly. She was met with something more solid than she'd expected and let out a tiny gasp of surprise.
A familiarly sneering voice met her ears before her eyes identified the scene before her. "Ah, Miss Granger. I should have known. Your unfortunate presence explains why we, once again, have had to evict avid reporters from our premises. To what do we owe the extreme pleasure? Would Witch Weekly like to do a centerpiece with a more exciting backdrop?"
She timidly shrank from the unexpected contact and did not seem able to reply.
"Miss Granger," the man insisted again in a low, hissing tone, "I asked a simple, civil question. It is only polite to answer it."
Suddenly, her head snapped up and her nostrils flared in anger. Vitriol replaced introversion with almost violent immediacy. "It would be polite, wouldn't it, except that nothing is ever simple, or civil with you, Professor Snape. You wouldn't recognize 'polite' if it publicly defrocked you. Sir."
The change in her demeanor was sudden and shocking. Severus Snape regarded her coolly, his expression souring as his surprise registered.
"The question remains, Miss Granger, of why you are at Hogwarts."
"Why are you still at Hogwarts, Professor?"
"Miss Granger, I hardly see the relevance—"
"Don't you?" His scowl deepened, but he said nothing. "I'm here, Professor Snape, because I wish to be. Isn't that enough?" Their eyes met for an intense moment and froze, caramel to dark chocolate. He saw an unexpected steely glint in hers that hadn't been there before, and with a final leer, broke the contact with a swift departure and no offer of a reply.
Hermione, still bristling, quickened her pace until the first hint of a stone gargoyle came into view. She stopped in front of it to catch her breath and calm the pounding of blood in her eardrums. Eventually, she opened her mouth to speak, but only a slight whisper emerged. She cleared her throat and tried again.
"Cornish Rex." At the password, the stone creature blinked its sleepy eyes open and moved languidly aside to allow her to pass.
Her movements as she ascended the winding stairwell were careful, and perhaps more timorous than she would have liked. Her footsteps echoed in the small chamber, and when she let the brass knocker fall on the Headmistress' oaken door, the sound resonated.
After a nervous minute or so, the door swung open to reveal a slightly disheveled Minerva McGonogall still in her bathrobe. "Hermione," the woman said simply, setting the pastry in her hand aside. "I was not expecting you yet. I –"
"I came early," Hermione finished with a little grimace, feeling a bit like an errant student. "I'm sorry, Professor; I can come back later. I didn't mean to be an inconvenience."
The Headmistress waved her hand dismissively, cinching her robe tighter, and pushed her former star pupil into her office. "It's no trouble at all," she said, but her voice was as stern as it ever was.
Hermione walked tentatively inside the circular room, slightly surprised to see that Dumbledore's silver gadgets were gone, along with the rickety tables that had housed them – probably stored somewhere safe for posterity. The room was now strictly clean and properly arranged; it was still warm, but it seemed almost stark compared to her memory of Dumbledore's comfortable clutter. Professor McGonagall never was one to abide by disorganization.
At the Headmistress' gesture, Hermione took a seat opposite Dumbledore's – McGonagall's, now – desk.
"Miss Granger. Hermione." McGonagall paused here, seemingly unsure of how to proceed. "It has been quite some time."
"Yes," the girl replied, face blank.
"Forgive me, but I am not quite sure what you are here to discuss."
Hermione sighed. "To be honest, neither am I." She ignored the Headmistress' puzzled look and continued. "I know that I have been away for a long time. I understand why the few people I have left are upset that I went. That is not important to this conversation. I needed to leave, and I am not sorry that I did. But now, I feel just as strong a pull to be here as I did to get away five years ago."
"Here? In Scotland? England?"
"No. At Hogwarts. I feel that I need to be at Hogwarts. I can't give a better explanation because it doesn't exist. All I know is that I already feel better here than I have in years, and I'll take good feelings where I can get them. They've been rather scarce of late." Her eyes were distant, and after a short pause, she asked a question that shocked her counterpart. "Is it all right if I smoke in here?"
The Headmistress' eyebrows shot up into her hairline and her reply was stiff. "If you must."
Hermione lit a fag with her wand and contemplated as she took a drag. She was still a mess, and it must be obvious if McGonagall was already making such allowances for her. She knew perfectly well that smoking inside the castle was strictly prohibited. "Look, I'm sorry," she began. "I probably shouldn't have come, but I had to know if it would help. Knowing that it does … maybe that makes it harder. But I had to know. I just wanted to know if I could come around sometimes, if I got too – if things just become too … much."
Professor McGonagall sat very still behind her desk, shocked into silence. After a moment, she made an effort to reply. "Of course you may visit, and however often as you like. I'll set the castle wards to allow you in."
Hermione exhaled a lungful of smoke and her shoulders slumped in release. "Thank you, Professor. That is very good to know." The relief was evident on her face and in the loosening of her posture.
"What are you planning to do now that you have your Charms certification?" McGonagall inquired, trying to sound nonchalant.
Hermione smiled ruefully. "I'm not sure, really. I've enough coin to keep letting a room from the Hog's Head for a little while, but I need to find work soon. I'm looking, but there's not a much available if you don't want to work for the Ministry."
"And you don't?" McGonagall asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Of course not," Hermione replied immediately. Her eyes were cold as she continued. "I've had enough of the sodding ministry to last a lifetime."
The corner of the Headmistress' mouth lifted slightly, as in a smile. "I think I quite agree with you on that point."
In a sudden movement, Hermione rose to her feet. She tapped her cigarette with her wand to extinguish it and tucked both in her robes. "I've taken enough of your time already.""No, no, it's my pleasure."
Hermione was shaking her head, though, saying, "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should be off now."
"Hermione. You can stay for tea, you know – maybe have a bit of a chat."
Hermione froze with her hand on the door. "Thank you, but I'm not the easiest person to be around anymore. I don't think I'm quite ready for any more of a chat than we've just had."
McGonagall didn't know what to make of that, really, so she nodded and said, "Go, then, but know that you are welcome at any time."
"Thank you, Minerva," the girl whispered, and was gone.