Note: Hi all, this is my first attempt at fanfiction. Comments and criticisms very appreciated. Thanks for reading!
"Professor!" Hermione gasped as she watched Nagini's fangs pierce Snape's pale neck. As the snake slithered away, she darted forward to press her hands around his wounds. Beside her, Harry and Ron crouched, watching as she attempted to staunch the blood flow. Snape brought his wand to his scalp and gently withdrew a memory, which he deposited into a small vial. Harry capped it and tucked it into his jeans. The trio could tell he was preparing for death.
Without realizing what was happening, she felt a sudden surge of heat in her hands. They glowed, as if lit from a fire within. Snape gasped and arched his chest, his breathing labored. Her hands grew hotter and glowed brighter, but she dared not remove them. A white-hot energy pulsed through them and flowed from her quivering fingertips to his throat. The bleeding paused briefly before giving a last throb and ceasing. Hermione pressed her fingertips into his wounds more firmly as if daring the strange magic to continue healing him.
She was destined to be disappointed.
Though the bleeding stopped, the wound remained fresh and the professor's breathing continued to come in gasps and throaty moans. She tore a strip of fabric from her shirt and, casting a quick cleansing spell, wrapped it tightly around his throat.
"Levicorpus," she whispered, floating the professor high off the ground. She knew they could not carry him and that without Madame Pomfrey's assistance, he would die—mourned by few—in the Shrieking Shack.
Crouching, the three scuttled back to the castle, with Snape's motionless body floating between them. She magicked him into the building and carried the dying man into the hospital wing along as Ron resumed fighting and Harry disappeared—as was his habit, she thought wryly— for what she assumed was probably another one of his foolishly heroic stunts. Hermione lowered him onto a bed and leaned forward.
No response.
She slapped him quickly on the cheek, noting with surprise at how cool and smooth his skin felt.
Still no response.
"Severus," she breathed into his ear. He stirred, so slightly as to almost be imperceptible.
"Li…..mione," He exhaled and gave a shudder, appearing for all intents and purposes to be deceased.
Five months later
Hermione breathed on the glass of the window and rubbed it clear with her sleeve, allowing her to peer out at the lush Scottish countryside as it zoomed by. Although surrounded by friends—Ginny, Luna, Dean—she keenly felt Harry and Ron's absence from their usual compartment on the Hogwart's Express. She felt a sharp elbow in the rib.
"Missing Ron already?" Ginny teased, a smear of chocolate marring her chin. Hermione smiled and said nothing. In truth, she was deeply conflicted by her new relationship with one of her best friends. It had created a distance between the three of them as Harry sought to give the couple privacy while still being friends. The situation was further complicated by all three residing in the Burrow over the summer holiday. Constantly thrown together, Ron showed a newfound possessiveness, wrapping his arm around her whenever another single man approached. Hermione found his approach stifling and though she wasn't interested romantically in anyone else, she wasn't entirely sure Ron was the ideal mate for her. Not for the first time, she wondered what things would have been like if she had kept in better contact with Viktor Krum. They hadn't much in common though, she mused, as his interests were more physical (in more ways than one) than hers.
The door to the compartment opened. Draco's pale, pointed face jutted in. Behind him, they could see a short, slender dark haired girl staring at the ground. Draco grimaced and slammed it shut, saying nothing to the startled students inside.
"Who was that?" Dean asked curiously, "has Malfoy bought himself a girlfriend?"
Ginny snorted. Luna looked up from her copy of the Quibbler.
"Her name is Astoria," she responded in her high, sing-song voice, "we met her on holiday in Norway while we were hunting for Grambling Gremlins."
"She's Norwegian?"
"No, English. She's been homeschooled, but her mother decided to send her to Hogwarts after her father was sent to Azkaban. Her governess was very interested in speaking to someone who spoke her own language. She hadn't seen any Gremlins though, very disappointing."
Her recitation finished, Luna resumed her reading. Hermione noticed with some interest that her friend was perusing the magazine sideways.
"Probably a Slytherin, then," Dean said under his breath.
Their conversation moved to trivial things and Hermione resumed staring out the window, eventually falling asleep with her forehead pressed to the cool glass. She awoke as the train pulled into the station and quickly pulled her robes over her head.
As Hermione and her friends approached the carriages, she noticed with a pang that nearly everyone over the age of thirteen could see the thestrals. The war had been a difficult time for them all. They approached the castle, the wheels clattering over the medieval stones. She noticed with some relief that, despite the battle several months prior, the castle appeared to be nearly in its former state.
Pressed tightly together, the group trudged into the building, seating themselves in their customary seats at the Gryffindor table. With a wave, Luna stepped lightly over to her fellow Ravenclaws. Again, Hermione felt incredibly lonely without Ron rubbing his empty stomach and moaning or Harry glaring at Draco beside her. Peering across the Great Hall, she noticed Draco and Astoria sitting very close together, though neither appeared to notice the other. She turned her focus away from her former enemy and looked up at the High Table, thoughtfully taking in each professor. Every one, she observed, seemed older and more careworn. Everyone, that is, except Snape, who looked younger and more carefree than she had ever seen him. The end of his role as double agent had clearly lifted a great weight from his shoulders. Her gaze lingered over the professor, whose throat was still wrapped in bandages as it had been the last time she had seen him. Hadn't his wounds healed by now? He must have felt her stare on him as he turned and looked at her. A hint of a smile twitched the corners of his mouth up as he brought his hand to stroke the bandages. She felt a tap on the shoulder.
"Miss Granger, could I have a word in the hall before the first years arrive?" She turned and looked at McGonagall.
"Of course, professor." She stood and followed the elderly witch out the doors.
"Miss Granger, as you are aware, Professor Snape nearly died during the battle in May," she paused and gazed at her pupil, "although he is well enough to resume teaching, we feel that he needs assistance maintaining the storeroom and doing some of the day to day maintenance. For that reason, we—that is, the faculty, not Professor Snape—have decided to hire an assistant to do the physical labor he finds so taxing these days. It would only be a few hours a week and would not interfere with your studies." The witch paused and looked sympathetically at Hermione over her glasses, "I hear the Healers at St. Mungo's have been unable to lift the Oblivate spell from your parents and that you have been left with very little in the way of financial support for the time being. We have, therefore, chosen you for several reasons. You have demonstrated the most aptitude for the subject in the past, which would be useful in assisting the professor, and you have a demonstrated need for extra money."
Hermione started to interrupt and thought better of it, realizing with a start that everything McGonagall said was true. Although she had not felt a financial pinch this summer, having stayed with the Weasleys, she knew she could not count on the impoverished family's generosity forever. Without her parents' support, she had been left with her meager savings account. That would quickly run out, especially after she finished her studies in May and moved out of the castle permanently. It would be beneficial, she thought quickly, to pad her account more over the course of the year and be able to support herself until she started a job. She nodded jerkily at the professor.
"I should be honored to be Professor Snape's assistant."
McGonagall sighed with relief.
"He's very opposed to the idea, you understand," she warned briskly, "and it may take some time for him to get used to the idea of receiving aid. Nevertheless, he'll be expecting you tomorrow afternoon around four."
They heard a clattering behind them as the first years trooped in, some looking remarkably sodden as if they had fallen in the lake. Understanding the conversation was at an end, Hermione darted through a side door and resumed her place at the table.
"What was that all about?" Ginny asked. Hermione shrugged and they all watched the young students march down the hall, led by the indomitable Professor McGonagall. Just behind her, Filch carried a stool and the tatty Sorting Hat. Mrs. Norris trotted smugly beside him.
"They asked me to be Professor Snape's assistant," she replied sotto voce, "I'll be preparing and restocking his slimy dungeon, I suppose."
Ginny grimaced and spoke quietly as the Sorting Hat began its song, "I can't imagine having to spend extra time with Snape outside of class. Being trapped in the dungeon with him twice a week is bad enough. Speaking of—why isn't he still teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? And who's taken the position?"
"Perhaps he's had enough of the Dark Arts," Hermione smiled ruefully, "I think anyone would after what he's been through."
Ginny nodded her assent, "probably. Still—"
Dean cut her off midsentence, "I'll bet that's the new teacher." They saw a petite blonde witch at the end of the table, her pale blonde hair glowing in the dim light. She looked nearly as surly as the Potions professor sitting next to her.
"Don't tell me we have a Malfoy teaching here. She's probably another Umbridge type." Dean muttered.
The Hat finished with a flourish and the Hall erupted in its usual applause. McGonagall began to read out names. Hermione stared intently at the new professor and, as if feeling the student's eyes boring into her bowed face, the new professor raised her head and gave Hermione an inquisitive look. There was no malice in it, but neither was there warmth. She cocked an eyebrow and returned gazing at something invisible just before the High Table.
As the last student—a Hufflepuff—scuttled off to their table, Filch removed both the stool and the Hat from the Hall. McGonagall took her place behind the podium and cleared her throat.
"Welcome to everyone! Before we begin the feast, I have an announcement. Professor Severus Snape has resumed his old post as Potions Master," She paused for light and scattered applause. Snape inclined his head in recognition, "and we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She comes to us all the way from Romania. Please join me in welcoming Professor Ardentia Dracula." She beamed severely—how did she even do that?, Hermione wondered—as students began to clap, hesitantly at first, but with increasing fervor. The new professor bowed her head in acknowledgement, a faint smile touching her lips.
"Dracula? Like the vampire? I should have known we'd have another beast after the werewolf!" Dean exclaimed noisily.
"I'll bet she's part Veela, like Fleur. She certainly looks the part," Ginny whispered to Hermione. They smiled knowingly at each other. If she was, this professor would have no difficulty commanding the loyalties of her male—and some female—students.
Just then, platters upon platters of food appeared on the tables. Golden turkeys, basted to perfection, gleamed beside mountains of mashed potatoes, butter drizzling down the creamy peaks. Golden carrots glistened beside piles of steamed peas. Further down, a tureen of gravy shimmered. The students quickly began to spear sausages and scoop bread pudding onto their waiting plates, the air suddenly filled with the clatter of cutlery on china and the boisterous laughter of students reunited after a long and difficult summer.
As Hermione lifted her fork to her mouth, she glanced up at the High Table and saw Snape staring at her with interest, his own plate empty. With a shudder, she turned her back to him and started a conversation with Ginny. When she looked back several minutes later, he was gone.
That night, as she settled into her soft bed in Gryffindor tower, she thought back to the enigmatic look on Snape's face as he'd watched her eat. Was it anger? Irritation? Or something milder? She punched her pillow and turned it over and, for the first time, nearly wished she had joined the Ministry instead of coming back to school. Her new job with the surly professor would only complicate her life. She could imagine the degrading things he would make her do—scrub cauldrons or wash dishes or something otherwise menial. Angrily she buried her face into the offending cushion and willed herself to sleep.
