Chapter 2 – in which there is breakfast
The next day, at breakfast time in the Great Hall, pupils were craning over each other's heads to catch a glimpse of Hermione. However, it wasn't hard for them to see, or hear, the banner that her and Ginny had made. It hung ten feet tall on the wall, and spread the width of the staff table where they sat. It contained a picture of a stern Snape pacing around his classroom. Together, they had bewitched the photo so that it spoke, repeating the infamous "Welcome to first year potions" speech, and also a few of his favourite insults. Hermione's words were printed in large letters beside the picture: "Fellow 'dunderheads', support me, Hermione Granger, in my strike against the snarky one!"
Hermione herself sat next to Ginny at the staff table, grinning.
"It's working! All I want is to get him to apologise and to become a proper teacher, and I think he will crack in days!"
At this point Severus himself strode in, cloak billowing out behind him, and the laughing pupils (well mostly, the Slytherins were muttering furiously), stopped talking and watched him. He stopped in his tracks, glared coldly up at the main table, then paced slowly up to Hermione, each step echoing ominously in the sudden silence.
"Miss Granger," he hissed. "You're embarrassing me!" She smirked at him, and replied flippantly, "Well, that's rather the point."
"Insufferable brat," he spat, his words growing softer and more menacing by the syllable. "I'm not going to beg you to take your job back, you know. This silly protest of yours has done nothing to alter my position upon the matter. You will soon realise your folly."
"Really, sir, with an attitude like that . . ." she began clearly, but a glowering Snape had already stalked away to his sanctuary in the dungeons. Chatter resumed among the students, and the sun came out from behind the clouds that had appeared on the enchanted ceiling when Snape had entered.
"Ginny," Hermione said thoughtfully, staring at the giant doors that had slammed shut behind Professor Snape.
"That was fantastic, Hermione!" she interrupted enthusiastically. "I swear I saw McGonnagal chuckle!"
"Well, yeah, it's good to have some attention for the cause, but I believe him when he says that this isn't going to make him change. He's faced a lot worse. No, Ginny, I have an idea. He doesn't believe in my ability at Potions, or at least he says he doesn't, so what if I prove it to him?"
"Hermione Jean Granger, you are evil," she remonstrated.
"What did you have in mind?"
His stomach rumbled as he paced around his office in the dungeons. No breakfast today, due to that Granger girl. The nerve of her! She had even smirked at him. That was his facial expression. To turn it against him like that wasn't right. But he would not be beaten. He would stick to his guns. He was the teacher, and therefore always right.
He gloomily sat at his desk, waiting for the brats to come in. Perhaps he could go down to the kitchens at break time, and get something to eat from the House Elves. He never normally ate much anyway. Sometimes he skipped breakfast altogether. But since she had taken it away from him, he was doubly hungry. Damn Granger.
Hermione was ecstatic. Just one week after her fantastic idea, her potion was nearly ready. She had received permission from the Headmistress, Professor McGonnagal, to use a cauldron and all the necessary materials in her room. In fact, the Headmistress had been kind enough to buy all the ingredients and equipment for her. With no time spent enduring a boring apprenticeship, she focussed all her attention on the brewing. Adding the final ingredient with a flourish, she thought back to the conversation she had had with McGonnagal . . .
"Well, Hermione, I certainly admire your courage, and I think that this is a brilliant idea. I must say, with all the excitement, one good thing is that pupils will take much more interest in their Potions lessons. However, could you make the potion a temporary one? Say . . . twenty-four hours? Just so that classes won't be disrupted too much. I will, of course, be supplying all materials needed, so that his suspicions are not aroused."
"Oh, thankyou, Professor! Twenty-four hours should be more than enough!"
"This should be interesting, Miss Granger."
Hermione smiled as she bottled the solution, anticipating the next day. Then she vanished the rest with her wand – she doubted that she would need it again – and packed up, breathing in the heady aromas of new parchment, freshly cut grass and the musky scent of sandalwood as she did so.
Hermione was smiling at breakfast as she chatted to Ginny. She wasn't sitting at the Staff Table; on the second day of her strike, Snape had successfully argued that as she was abstaining from the work of an apprentice, she should also be excused the privileges of being one. However, this had backfired on Severus, because Hermione had been sitting with the Gryffindors instead, who wholeheartedly supported her. Ginny had also chosen to sit with Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and they had had lots of fun talking to their friends – Ginny especially, who enjoyed speaking to her former classmates who hadn't left school early to become an apprentice.
A group of Gryffindors had taken to wearing "Support Hermione Granger" badges, which when pressed would switch to the phrase "Snarkiness Stinks". Hermione suspected the Creeveys.
Her banner still hung on the wall, despite Professor Snape's many surreptitious attempts to remove it, because the Permanent Sticking Charm was one she had invented herself, and as a result one only she knew the counter-charm for. Many pupils had signed the banner, adding their own messages of support, or anecdotes about things Snape had done to them.
Most pupils had grown accustomed to the strike, although it was still a hot topic of conversation. Hermione hoped that the potion would spice things up a bit. She glanced up at the staff table, up at her former mentor. He looked tired and grumpy as he knocked back his pumpkin juice, wishing it were something stronger. He had had a bad week, and it was all the fault of that insufferably know-it-all . . .Granger.
He looked up from his plate, straight into her eyes.
'Oh, god, no. Bloody hell,' Hermione thought.