Disclaimer:This is all for fun, I do not claim ownership of the characters or anything recognized from the work of J.K. Rowling. I am only borrowing them.
[A/N] The response so far has been brilliant and I thank everyone for their views, reviews, follows, and favorites. DMB 4-6 is in progress but the content got very heavy for me to write so a bit of fluff was necessary. Also, I have decided that whenever I include her parents that I'll choose first names for them that I like at that time since they don't have any in canon (yet).
Also, fifth year truly needs two chapters. I only intended the four but OotP is just so MASSIVE.
Playlist: Imogen Heap - Swoon | Jimmy Eat World - Work | Anberlin - Someone Anyone
Hermione was resigned to the fact that she would most likely never remove all of the dust from her eyes, the grit beneath her fingernails, or the cobwebs from her hair. Hours spent scrubbing every inch of Grimmauld Place were putting her into a decidedly dreary demeanor. Kreacher didn't help. Sirius didn't help, either. Ron's whining certainly didn't help and it was all she could do to not resort to physical violence when he carried on, but Molly was proficient enough at boxing his ears without her interference.
The only respite from the brooding of the other occupants and her own physical and mental exhaustion were the nights curled up with Crookshanks at her feet or on her pillow or frankly any place he wanted to be. He was a grouchy half-kneazle but had not left her alone at night in the house since arriving a week before.
Professor Dumbledore had dropped her off in the late evening hours after collecting her from her parent's London townhouse. The Grangers had recently acquired the brownstone after her father's father had passed. Hermione felt as though she should feel more bereft as he was her last living grandparent but she had spent little time with the man who preferred to live the remainder of his life in Spain with some mistress or another.
So it was then, three weeks after her grandfather's funeral and barely a month after Voldemort's return that she came home with her parents from the cinema to continue cleaning the townhouse and found Albus Dumbledore sitting in the front drawing room.
Hermione had nearly lost her ability to be surprised at her Headmaster, but his appearance at a location she had never listed on her contact file at Hogwarts caught her off guard. Her parents recovered more easily than their daughter, Elizabeth Granger offering him tea and Dennis Granger moving to shake his hand. Their reactions instantly made her suspicious. Had they recently been in contact with the Headmaster?
"No, thank you for your hospitality but I've come to collect Hermione." The twinkle in his eye was on full blast as he said this directly to her. She wondered how anyone could handle the force of his attention in this capacity. It made her nose itch.
"Tonight, sir?"
Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, my dear. Your assistance is requested by Mrs. Weasley. She's taken on quite the extensive project."
It was fortuitous that she hadn't really unpacked from her terms at Hogwarts and that part of the process was relatively swift. Crookshanks was shedding ferociously onto the coverlet on the loveseat in the sitting room while she dragged her trunk down the steps.
"Well now, it's hardly fair that I take your daughter away to help when she was previously helping you both here."
Though both Grangers protested verbally that he didn't need to help them with magic, they were quite alright handling the rest of the sorting themselves, their shoulders were definitely lowered in relief as dust and dirt was Scourigified from the rooms they hadn't reached yet. With promises to write often and a few strong hugs, Hermione waved goodbye to her parents for the summer.
The steps of 12 Grimmauld Place reminded her distinctly of the townhouse she had just left and she couldn't help but wonder if it was near her grandfather's old home. It was impossible to tell at the moment as she had been Apparated directly to the front stoop and left there by the Headmaster. Adjusting Crookshanks in her arms, she pressed her face into his fur as Professor Dumbledore unlocked the front door with a series of wand movements.
It comforted her that there was a pile of cat hair left in the house with her parents, as if she were able to leave a piece of her behind after the abrupt departure.
Harry was so furious. How could they blame him, though? Left alone for months without a word from anyone besides the papers he caught in the rubbish bin. His temper had always been volatile but this was different. Even including the end of the Triwizard Tournament, something was very wrong and she wished he would talk to her so she could help.
"That woman is wretched! Absolutely wretched!" Hermione groaned as she sank into one of the common room couches.
"Allow me a moment to bask in the idea that you agree with us on a professor," said Ron, landing equally heavily but at the opposite end of the couch. Harry was not far behind and they sprawled together in front of the fire. The most recent Dumbledore's Army meeting had exhausted them physically and magically.
Hermione shot him a dark look. "Professor Snape -"
"We get it, Hermione, Dumbledore trusts Snape," mumbled an increasingly sleepy Harry beneath his forearm. "Doesn't mean we have to like him."
She huffed in annoyance and adjusted her leg beneath Harry's head so they were both more comfortable. Crookshanks shimmied himself between her other leg and the arm of the couch and began purring powerfully enough to begin shaking the aches from her knees. All of the stairs took a toll at the end of the day, especially during the winter months. It was only the beginning of November and she already was wearing several layers of warm socks.
"Crooks, your paws are cold," she murmured to the tomcat as she dozed, a rare moment of relaxation. The hand that wasn't lazily running through his ginger fur rested on Harry's shoulder.
Crookshanks simply started purring louder.
Christmas had been hell. Two whole days spent at Hogwarts after Harry and the Weasleys left in the middle of the night. Of all the nights to actually fall asleep in her own bed and not in the common room!
McGonagall and Dumbledore were both nowhere to be found in the morning after she woke to find her friends gone in the middle of the night without warning. In her desperation, nearly jogging through the halls to the Owlery, she narrowly avoided colliding with Professor Snape. For a brief moment, his hands were on her shoulders to steady her, but then she stepped down to the stair below. Their height difference was exaggerated and made her uncomfortable.
She had not been this close in proximity to him since the night he bared his Dark Mark for the entire room to see. Even in the Potions classroom there was a good deal of distance as he sneered over Neville's cauldron and neatly avoided her side of the worktable.
"Miss Granger," he muttered. He brusquely brushed off his sleeves as he took two steps down the Owlery steps so they were on more even ground.
Still a bit breathless from her sprint and the way her stomach had dropped to her toes just seconds before, she barely gasped out a polite, "Good morning, Professor."
"I expect that our nearly disastrous encounter was spurred from your unfathomable concern for the welfare of Misters Potter and Weasley." It was definitely not stated as a question.
Hermione was torn between trying to hold her breath and gasp in lungfuls of air at the same time. It wouldn't do to break this spell of almost...congeniality? Not quite congeniality, but perhaps cordiality.
A single raised eyebrow met her gaze once he'd finished dusting himself off unnecessarily. She started as if called to attention.
"Yes, sir." In for a penny in for a pound. "And the rest of the Weasleys, too, sir. Ginny and the twins are gone as well."
"As I understand it the Weasleys have left for their winter holidays early, you will not be able to reach them by owl."
Hermione's shoulders fell and once again it felt as though all the air left her lungs, but a small pit was forming in the bottom of her stomach.
"May I ask where they've gone, sir?" She hated how dejected her voice sounded.
Another small eyebrow raise. "I am not at liberty to say, though I'm certain you will reconvene once the holidays truly begin." Professor Snape seemed to almost hesitate as he took another few steps down away from his student. "You would be remiss to use these next two days lying in wait of the train departure. I'm certain there are others who would benefit your company."
"Pardon?" Hermione proclaimed. Her eyes were wide as she took in the retreating form of the Potions Master.
In his wake was a single ginger bottlebrush tail-hair floating in the slight breeze of the Owlery windows.