Chapter 2: The Owlery

I was determined to find someone to marry. After talking with Snape, I had pushed Ron out of the picture entirely, making the conscious decision not to grieve for the loss. If he didn't think I was worth marrying, then neither was he.

I sat outside on an empty bench. Ron sat two benches away: unallowed to join me, though he tried. I watched the passing students with a critical eye, trying to distinguish the pure-bloods among them.

I ended up watching a toad that had landed at my feet instead.

"Trevor!" Neville yelled as he leapt from behind me somewhere, chasing the toad past my reach and into the courtyard.

My fingers tapped on my thigh at the sight of him trailing the toad. I had never seen Neville in that way before, but he was a pure-blood, after all. Perhaps it wouldn't be a particularly romantic relationship, but he was sweet and would be kind to me.

"Neville," I called out.

"Oh hi, Hermione."

"Neville, I, er…"

"Yeah?"

I focused on his hair. There were dead leaves stuck in it that made him look befuddled.

"Um."

"Hermione?"

All I could see was the hair. Maybe it was a sign: one that I would be ignoring. I picked the leaves out of their prisons.

"Thanks," he said, uncertain.

"Neville," I spat, nervous.

He flinched.

"Yes?"

"Will you go out, I mean marry, well, no, go out with me? Sometime. Soon."

There was a long pause. I couldn't look at his face. I tried to dig up weeds with my shoes as I waited.

I heard him inhale.

"I sort of already filed for engagement."

I nodded, and kept nodding until my head hurt.

"I'm not really a first choice, so I had to move fast."

"No, that -- that's fine."

"Ginny. She said yes."

"That's great."

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it. I know she's not a seventh year, but under the law I can pick anyone. And, well, I've always liked her."

"That's great," I said again.

I stepped backwards, trying to flee as nicely as I could.

"Great. Er, see you, Neville."

"Okay," he shrugged, confused.

I turned before the tears came.

There was only one thing left I could think to do. I headed straight to the owlery.

I didn't want to worry my parents with news of a forced marriage, but I needed their advice more than anything. If they thought it best that I came home, I would.

I walked up the steps to the owlery and threw my bag in a corner.

"You again."

I jumped.

"Sorry, Professor," I said, "I didn't see you there."

Snape leaned against a window's ledge. I dug through my bag to find a quill, but was finding it hard to concentrate while Snape eyed me from his post.

"Ahem. Um, sir, what are you doing here?"

"The owlery?" he said. "Believe it or not, Miss Granger, teaching dunderheaded children isn't the only thing I'm good for."

"Right," I said, embarrassed.

I found a quill and parchment and a tidy place to sit just outside the main entrance. Every once and awhile I looked up from my letter to see if Snape was looking my way, for though he never was, I had the distinct feeling of being watched.

I signed the parchment and chose an ugly, black owl to send it off with.

"You were right, you know," I said at last.

"About what, Miss Granger?"

"Ron isn't good enough for me."

He looked at me then. His face was expressionless.

"Good," he said.

"So then I asked Neville, but…"

He groaned, "Longbottom? You're only digging yourself further in with him. I thought you were intelligent!"

"He said no."

"You're worth more."

I looked him straight in the eyes.

"Sir? Do you really think that highly of me?"

His eyebrows raised in alarm.

"When I was in my sixth year," he said, "I was dared to hide a stolen article on the topmost pillar of the owlery. To see properly, I had to lean out of one of these windows.

"As I balanced my weight on the ledge, my robes caught on a notch in the stone. I tried to pull the robes away, but in so doing, I lost my footing and fell off the ledge.

"But because my clothing had caught, it held my weight just long enough for me to grab a hold of the ledge and pull myself back up to safety. It was then that I realised that death was inevitable. The only control you have is to decide whether you fight it, or embrace it."

"Sir?" I asked. "Who do you think I should marry?"

"I think," he said, "you should have your robe snagged in the stone."

He smiled slightly. It sent a chill up my spine.