An Inspector Calls

All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Part 8

Hogwarts Newsletter Issue 1, Summer 2005

Draco dormiens nunquam titilandus

'A New Chapter' — A Letter from the Headmaster (first draft)

May I take this wonderful opportunity to welcome you to our first (and hopefully last) school newsletter? I have been resident at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in some capacity, for longer than I care to remember. Indeed, I believe I shall probably die here. For any other information on my good self, I suggest you get off your arse and get hold of my chocolate frog card (good luck—I'm one of the rare ones).

School is about the preparation to make a success of one's life—to equip ourselves with the basic skills needed for such an accomplishment, and, at Hogwarts, we're really good at it. Ask any number of our former students now stuck in dead-end jobs, poverty, or Azkaban.

Education, as we have mentioned, sets us up for life, and I believe in making the learning process as 'real' as possible. If a student happens to get cursed, so what? A child falls several feet from their broom? All the better. Accidentally imbibed poison? It's all about learning from one's mistakes—the most important lesson of all. As a school, we pride ourselves on giving every child the opportunity to learn and to excel. We are aware that each individual has different skills and talents, just as we are aware that some have none. We call them dunderheads.

But school is not only about academics. We have many social activities that will prevent your child developing into a friendless, emotionally-stunted, morose adult. Love to sing—join the choir. Can't hold a note? They'd love to have you anyway. Got a unique talent, famous relative, or money, and want to further your own ends? Join the exclusive Slug Club. Horace will love you for it.

Hogwarts is truly a community school. Where would Hogsmeade be without the hoards of marauding children tramping about, stealing, writing graffiti, harassing locals—generally causing chaos? No doubt the way of all other magical villages—extinction. We are its very lifeblood.

Our staff are highly committed individuals, intent on raising standards—when they can be arsed, that is. I would like to thank them for all the grief they have given me this past year—they know who they are. Lastly, I could not finish this letter without addressing those which make Hogwarts the place it is—the students. I would like to thank each and every one of them. I thank them for their continuing ignorance in failing to apply themselves; the disrespect; the disregard of the seventh-years by having their pornographic magazines delivered at breakfast (we all know what's in those brown envelopes, boys) and, finally, I thank them for their persistent misbehaviour—for, who else can I get to clean out the Owlery?

Some students are leaving us this year, of course. To a few (read Slytherins), I shall merely say farewell. To the rest—good riddance.

I look forward to seeing your child at Hogwarts in the near future.

Professor Severus Snape,

Headmaster


There it was, then. Hogwarts' inspection was, in the main, complete. I had survived the week more or less unscathed—we'll disregard the whole Granger issue for the moment. The castle was still standing in one piece. None of my teachers had collapsed from the stress of it all. There'd been no tears. No major incident from the students had materialised. All in all, it had gone as well as could have been hoped. From my point of view, I had to be satisfied with that. I was unsure where things were headed following the conclusion of the inspection, but that bridge would be crossed in time.

Having said all that, we still had today to get through, and, after all, it only takes a few minutes for something to go completely tits up. That is precisely why I called a staff meeting on Saturday morning, before our inspectors arrived for the final day. Most of them looked far more relaxed than they had at the beginning of the week, but it was not quite the time to begin celebrating.

'Before we crack open the hard stuff tonight, we have today's Quidditch match still to get through; plus the inspectors will still have a few loose ends to tie up. I know it is the weekend, but we must remain on our guard.'

Most nodded in agreement. Horace refused to look at me, still smarting over the issue of his club.

'Not until we have seen the back of our little friends shall we have cause to celebrate, all right?'

I supposed, then, that I should thank them for the work and effort they'd put in, or most of them had put in, anyway, but… Well, I'd replenished the drinks cabinet—they'd understand when they saw it (I had it under Locking charm 'till tonight).

'Poppy, you shall be required to attend the match today.'

She groaned theatrically. 'You know I hate Quidditch!'

Of course, I did—therein lay the pleasure for me.

'I want you to be immediately on-hand to deal with any injuries that may arise. We cannot simply have those injured dragged off to the sidelines till the end of the match, as we usually do.'

'Fine, but I'm bringing a book.'

'Bring a bloody library with you if it will keep you quiet.'

At that moment, the door knocked and in walked Appleby, followed by the rest of them, Granger bringing up the rear. 'Good mornings' were bandied about, as custom required. I did not allow my attention to tarry for too long on Granger. She only nodded in recognition when her eyes met mine. Jones was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with anticipation.

'I hope the match is a real thriller today,' he said to me as the majority of teachers began to disperse.

'I'm afraid our last match ended after only fifteen minutes, Mr Jones.'

His face fell through the floorboards. 'Oh, dear me, that is a disappointment.'

Over Jones' shoulder, I suddenly spotted something on the table that really shouldn't have been there.

'Ah, Minerva?' I called out casually. She was nearest to the offending object.

'What is it?'

'I believe you have left behind some papers.'

'What?' she asked, looking confused.

'Let me assist you, Professor McGonagall,' offered Jones charmingly, but luckily, the twig finally snapped for Minerva, and she rushed towards the table.

'Oh, bless me, yes, this is mine. Thank you, Mr Jones, but I have it now.'

Minerva gave me a meaningful look as she tucked our Quidditch sweepstake chart under her arm and sidled over to a cupboard with it. Thank Merlin the pot of money hadn't been on display.

Oh bloody hell—Granger appeared at my elbow. 'Professor Snape?'

'Yes?'

'Do you mind accompanying me to your office? There are some files I shall need to take with me back to the Ministry. I'd rather collect them now, in case I forget later on.'

I nodded. 'Very well.'

Just as long as it wasn't a ploy to get me alone. I scoffed at myself. Was that not one of the most ridiculous thoughts I had ever conceived? I certainly considered it so. What did I expect her to do? We were both individuals possessed of higher functions that exercised control over baser instincts. She was not going to suddenly throw herself at me, just because she'd shown a smidge of interest in me the day before! And smidge was the operative word. I didn't really know what her purpose was. I'd hypothesised that she might be desperate, and I had no concrete reason to abandon such considerations.

As for me, well, I wasn't sure of what my baser instincts actually wanted, believe it or not. Following yesterday's antics, I could not have anticipated what I might feel when next I saw her, but feel something, I supposed I must. So, when I saw her come into the staff room today, I daresay some part of me registered the incident more closely than it should. But I could handle it. That I, perhaps, had an urge to speak with her, well, I could handle that, too. I could not deny that I enjoyed very much to rankle her, regardless of how I felt.

In some way, I suppose this was attraction, the seeds of which, perhaps, had been planted that day, weeks ago, when she'd announced herself as the chief inspector. I have heard that these things may happen on first acquaintance (we may say re-acquaintance, here). In actual fact, I knew these things could happen. Had I not been enthralled on first acquaintance by Lily Evans? Though, the situations were much different, of course, and I'd hesitate to use the term 'enthralled' in this instance. This was not me turning into a lovelorn fool. This was about, well not even only physical attraction, really, it was finding myself in curious empathy with another person. Was that worse? I could accept it far better than being enthralled unconditionally. That the person should be Hermione Granger, my former student, well, I admit it gave me pause, but maybe I could accept that, too, eventually.

To what end was all this meditation, though? In reality, I knew not. Did I want anything? (I really hated that she made me think this way). With distance between us, attraction would fade, but the possibility of friendship… Was that realistic? We had shared experience to build on… Because, while she remained under the employ of the Office for Standards in Education, and I in Hogwarts, there could never be anything more, even if it transpired we both wanted it (I highly doubted the possibility, nevertheless). But even the remotest hint that we were involved could prove costly to one or both of us.

I glanced at her as we left the staff room for my office. I knew how most entanglements went—fleetingly. She was young, and by her own decree, at times bored and unhappy. I had no interest in being a short-term palliative for that. No disrespect to her, but I wasn't sure it would be worth it. Risk was a game I'd abandoned for good the day I was plucked from the brink of death. Adventure may be lost, excitement hard to come by, but it was a life to live, nevertheless, and I had learned to be grateful for it.

She was silent as we walked, apparently in no hurry to talk. It was only mildly uncomfortable. I made to turn my thoughts away from her and let my mind wander aimlessly, instead. As we passed down a hallway, I noticed a group of boys at the far end. To the untrained eye, it looked nothing out of the ordinary, but I knew. Without their house colours on, it was difficult to place them, but after a few moments, I fancied I knew them. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. They were… There it was— a wand arm flung out and a spell unleashed, completely off target, noisily hitting a suit of armour and ricocheting at speed. I had my own wand out and a Shield charm cast before the hex could reach us.

Granger turned a look of surprise onto me. 'I suppose I can forgive you for letting me get thumped on the head with a football, now,' she said.

Ah, I'd forgot that incident. To recall it, though, brought back a fair amount of amusement.

'Remind me to put that memory into a Pensieve while it's still fresh, will you?'

Oh, but she did not like that one bit! How delightful!

I turned my attention to the boys and hissed at them, 'Stay where you are!' The culprits looked between themselves guiltily.

'Mr Baldwin, if you are stupid enough to break the rule of no magic in the corridors, while I am in said corridor, then I can only think that you do not deserve to go to the match this afternoon. You will join Mr Filch in carrying out his tasks.'

'Sir—'

'Ten points each shall be deducted for the rest of you. Now, I'll hear no more. See that you behave.'

Bunch of idiots.

On the plus side, Granger had noticed I was capable of being chivalrous. She'd better savour it as she wouldn't see it rearing its ugly head very often! That much was a given.

When we arrived at my office, Phineas' voice drifted down from above. 'Come back for a quiet five minutes, have you? Would you like us to leave you alone?'

I only stared. He would pay for that one, I'd make sure of it. Perhaps sensing that I was close to maiming a portrait, Granger spoke up in calm tones.

'That will not be necessary, sir.'

Dumbledore looked visibly disappointed.

'See, Miss Granger, what you've done? What I have to put up with?' I muttered to her impatiently, as I collected up the folders.

'I begin to see the necessity of solvents,' she said in an undertone.

Finally, someone on my side!

I handed her the files and she shrunk them down, placing them within the handbag she carried. And then it was awkward again. What to say? Why did I even care about saying anything?

'What, ah, what will you do when the inspection is over? Back to Magical Creatures?' Now she would think I was interested in her future. Nice one, Snape.

'The future of the Office for Standards in Education is undecided, at present, but depending on what the Ministry decide, I shall probably continue with both. Inspections are likely to only be held every five years or so, you see.'

She brushed her hair behind her ear, and it struck me that she was a little more tense than she usually was. Was it my fault? Ugh, I did not know, and I was beginning to feel fed up of second-guessing everything. Tomorrow would be a much easier day, I decided.


Some of us gathered in the staff room prior to heading out to the Quidditch pitch. Unwillingly, my eyes were drawn to Granger while she conversed with Minerva—not for any reason other than I was trying to fathom her out. She'd gone off somewhere following the retrieval of her files, and I'd managed to pass a few hours where I'd successfully blocked her from my mind. It was a mistake to let her occupy it, I knew. For that reason, I longed for her departure. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

Jones approached me and, for about the first time since becoming acquainted with the man, I was grateful for his intrusion.

'How I envy those players getting on their brooms today.' He sighed pensively.

All right, maybe I wasn't so grateful, after all. I made a sound of disinterested agreement.

'I do love flying,' he continued, oblivious to my disinterest. 'It has to be one of the most exhilarating experiences there is.'

I did agree with him there.

'My broom is one of my most prized possessions, indeed. I hear the Cleansweeps are making a comeback, you know. My advice to you, Professor, is put your money on a Cleansweep—Firebolts are out.'

'I don't own a broom,' I commented distantly, my attention drifting back to my earlier preoccupation.

'You don't own a broom? Well, bless me—you don't like to fly?'

Granger was standing on her own now. 'No, I have no need of one to fly.'

'Excuse me?'

I turned my full attention to Jones, who looked fairly dumbfounded. It was then that I wished I had erred on the side of caution. 'I, ah, fly unaided.'

Please don't ask me where I learned.

'Good gracious me!' He looked at me rather warily.

'So, ah, have you ever considered refereeing? Your injury allows that?' I asked, aiming to divert the subject.

'Oh, indeed, I've given it a go. I declare, I much prefer being involved in the action, though, as I'm sure you can appreciate, what with your past experience as a rugby player. Injury can be the bane of one's life, can it not?'

'Rugby?' came an inquisitive and disbelieving voice behind me. A voice that made me still. 'Professor Snape, I confess myself intrigued.'

I turned towards her. The raising of her eyebrow and small lift of her lips told me she believed not a jot of it. Merlin, if she dropped me in it…!

'Yes, Miss Granger—I have some experience with the sport.'

'I see, and what position did you play?'

She would regret this. I had no bloody idea as to what position I might have played.

'I should say, judging from your build, that you were one of the backs.'

I'd never again think badly of Jeremiah Jones. 'You are, indeed, correct, Mr Jones.'

'I knew it!' he beamed happily.

Granger remained sceptical.

'Well, I believe it's time to go to the stands,' I said quickly, before Granger could comment further. I swept from the room and into the hallway. She'd better not… But there she was—trotting to keep up by my side.

'If you're a rugby player, I'm a Hinkypunk!' she hissed with a smirk.

Luckily, the others were several paces behind. 'Do you know? I wondered what it was I found so familiar about you—now I know.'

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. 'Are you implying I look like a Hinkypunk?'

'Are you implying I am a liar?'

'I should think it very likely!'

Bothersome girl! 'I assure you, Miss Granger, that if you are in any doubt as to my rugby skills, then you are welcome anytime to partake of a demonstration of my tackling abilities.'

Well, there's not much I can say in my defence on this score, is there? It was a blunder of the first order.

Had there been any witnesses to that subsequent scene where our steps faltered and silence quickly descended, they might also suggest that I blushed at my own insinuation. I maintain to this day that I did not, however. I did pause and call out to Minerva, pretending that there was some issue that needed discussion. My aim was achieved—I became separated from Miss Granger's company. Indeed, I made sure I avoided her all the way to the stands (clearly, I could no longer trust myself in her presence).

Unfortunately, disaster occurred as we filed into the stand. Granger and the other inspectors paused, unsure of where they should put themselves. I ignored them, and brushed past to my usual seat. Minerva, of course, went and put her bloody huge foot right in it.

'Along there will be fine, Miss Granger, next to Severus. I'll sit in front,' she said, heading for the bench.

'Many thanks, Minerva!' I hissed to myself angrily.

I spotted Poppy lurking on the end of the very front bench, so I leant forward and poked Minerva in the shoulder. 'Tell Poppy to get her bloody head out of that book and down onto the sidelines!'

When the message finally reached the matron, she stood up, snapped her book shut, and glared at me fiercely as she marched towards the stairs. Had she less decorum, she may have sent me a rude gesture. I only drummed my fingers on my leg as Granger sat down beside me. Filius sat on my other side, on a pile of cushions.

'Since I got hit by a football, I hope it does not follow that I will be hit by a Bludger today,' sounded Granger to my left.

'I can't promise anything,' I muttered, eyes firmly forward at the teams gathering in the sky.

She huffed a little.

The match got underway and, eventually, I forgot all about the trouble next to me. Jones was well into it, cheering his head off in the way only he could. I enjoy a bit of Quidditch now and again, though I took far more enjoyment from it when I was Head of House. Being neutral in such cases did not agree with me—it was not the same! I maintained my responsibility, though, and on the bright side, I could brush off any teasing from Minerva when Slytherin lost, by taking the high road and preaching my unwavering lack of bias. I think she missed the competition, too, mind. Horace was just not as into the whole thing, and Pomona and Filius, unfortunately, would never allow things to get nasty.

One area of competition remained, however. Our sweepstake. Minerva liked to think she could anticipate the outcomes of matches better than I. I patently thought otherwise. So, while, for the others, bets were a bit of fun, for Minerva and me, there was pride at stake. Neither of us had won the pot after the last two matches, but I had it on good authority that the standings over the last few years were in my favour.

At sixty—forty to Ravenclaw, we reached a point where Minerva could win. I saw her hit her leg with impatience, when Ravenclaw began to run away with it, and as the score clocked up to ninety—forty, I willed the Ravenclaw Seeker to catch the Snitch before any more Quaffles could go in. They scored again. 'Catch it!' I chanted to myself—I was still the closest out of anyone.

'Catch it!' For crying out loud—even I could see the bloody Snitch!

Finally, a roar went up around the stadium, and the Seekers had come to their senses. I thought for a moment the Hufflepuff Seeker would get the snitch, but no, it was over, and Ravenclaw had won.

The pot of money was mine.

'Well, then, Minerva,' I said in my silkiest voice, leaning forward. 'What shall I buy with my winnings? How about that bottle of vintage Scotch Rosemerta has down the pub—the one you've been fancying? Maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll let you try some—a sip.'

'Bugger off!' she muttered to me in a disgruntled voice.

I leant back, but smug satisfaction was soon wiped from my face, when Granger, whom I'd forgotten, said lightly, 'Do I get an invitation if I'm a good girl, too?'

I narrowed my eyes at her, not really knowing what to say.

She only smiled, infuriatingly. 'I saw your chart in the staff room, you know.'

Insufferable bloody woman. No, she would not be enjoying my Scotch.

Following the match, the staff repaired to the staff room, where, ostensibly the celebrations would begin. The inspectors were not quite gone yet, though. They were making use of a classroom to have a quick 'debrief' as Granger called it. They intended to join us for refreshment, and then would leave before dinner. An occasion which I knew many of the teachers were anticipating. Despite the general affability of the inspectors, the fact remained that they were inspectors.

I had to remind many of them that we were not out of the woods yet. Regardless of my words, light-heartedness seemed to abound, a product of the imminent prospect of relief. I was sure hangovers would prevail tomorrow. Though, at least it wasn't my job to dispense the hangover remedies anymore. My office has, in the past, resembled a walk-in surgery.

'Where are my winnings, then?' I demanded of the room at large.

'Ugh!' groaned Rolanda. 'How many times have you won the pot, now? I swear, you're a cheat!'

'Stop your blustering and give it to me.'

She nearly threw the pot at me, but evidently thought better of it, dumping it into my lap instead. I shrunk it down and placed it comfortably within my robes. Minerva eyed me with distaste.

'Roll on tomorrow,' said Pomona with a sigh, collapsing heavily into a chair. 'I can't wait to be able to relax!'

'But the worrying is still not over, is it?' lamented Filius. 'We've got about a month to live in ignorance.'

'No one had a disaster this week, though,' offered Rolanda diplomatically. 'Not even Sybill,' she added in a whisper, though the daft bat wasn't present, of course.

'One might say that 'disaster' and 'Sybill' are one and the same,' said Minerva dryly.

There were a few titters. 'I'm, frankly, shocked Minerva, that you would refer to your colleague in such a low manner.'

'Bugger off, Severus—you tried to send her to Scarborough for the week!'

Shocked faces turned to me. That little incident hadn't been generally known—until now. 'Thank you, Minerva,' I said stiffly.

'Tried to tell her she'd won a competition, he did.'

There were several cackles of laughter. I scowled to myself. Minerva had best be on her guard henceforth, I decided.

'I'm just dreading the news about my club,' moaned Horace.

We all ignored him.

'We'll be fine,' assured Minerva confidently. 'I've found Miss Granger to be very positive. Mr Appleby, too, has been very agreeable. I'm sure he has been impressed.'

Oh dear—she'd gifted it to me on a plate. 'You would think him agreeable,' I said with a snort. 'I recall how you told me of the tendre you nursed for him when you were his student.'

Minerva shifted in her chair towards me, an expression of pure outrage on her face, as chuckles emanated from around the room. 'Why on earth would I tell you something like that?' she questioned dismissively. Two spots of colour glowed on her cheeks, nevertheless.

I was well into my stride. 'Did you not offer to use your feminine wiles on him, were the inspection to go down the toilet?'

'Severus! I did not!' she gasped in incredulity.

Pomona was clutching her stomach. 'Do you know what, Minerva? I think I can see what you saw in him!'

'I did not!' Minerva repeated furiously.

Rolanda sighed. 'If I'd known that was our strategy, I wouldn't have minded having a crack at Mr Jones.'

'Nor me, considering that Minerva's snapped up Mr Appleby!' Pomona chuckled at length.

'Haven't been working your magic on Miss Granger, have you, Severus? asked Rolanda dryly. 'She's looked pretty cheerful this week!'

I felt my eyes widen at her suggestion, but Minerva had spoken, attracting the attention. 'As if he could!' she snapped. 'Probably slipped her something questionable, more like.'

I took no offence. I'd annoyed her quite comprehensively—it was to be expected. 'I'll have you know I can be charming when I want to be, Minerva. I have ways and means—I just choose not to employ them on you.'

Minerva made a noise of disbelief, and a few of the others snickered. Ha! They thought I was joking, but apparently, I really did have ways and means. I had no idea what they were, of course. Indeed, I could not hazard even the remotest guess, really, but there was something.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and Appleby entered, followed closely by Mrs Lewis, and Jones.

It was at this point that things began to take a rather bizarre turn. There was nothing to be read into the fact that I immediately noticed Granger was missing—her absence was conspicuous to anyone.

'Where's Miss Granger?' Minerva enquired, ever concerned about her darling former student.

'She said there was one more file to collect from Professor Snape.'

I glanced at him. That was interesting. She knew I was not in my office. She would not be able to get past the gargoyle. Minerva demanded that I go and find her, and so I excused myself. I headed towards my office, but as I walked along the ground floor, towards the grand staircase, I discovered her leaning on a windowsill, looking out into a courtyard.

'Miss Granger, I believe you wanted another file?'

Her head snapped towards mine in surprise, but her expression was closed, uncharacteristically so, one might suggest. I didn't ponder on it; I simply carried on walking to the stone gargoyle. She followed silently behind. Increasingly, as the silence went on, I began to consider that something was amiss with her. She'd been fairly bright all morning, after all. Was she slipping into one of her reflective moods? Disheartened, maybe, by the fact that soon she would be ensconced at her desk in the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures. And yet, had she not resolved to make the best of her situation? Furthermore, regardless of how often inspections were carried out, if the Office for Standards in Education became a functioning department, they could well decide to keep her there full-time.

Why was I even bothering to fathom it? It was not my problem.

I collected the file that she asked for and handed it to her. She stuffed it into bag she carried. Again, her countenance was rather stony.

'Thank you,' she said in a clipped voice, and without further ado, spun on her heel and headed for the door.

Was that it?

Well, fine; I would not question her obvious disgruntled demeanour. I was in no desire to get into one of those twisty conversations with her. She could go. I watched her departure openly, wondering if she could sense my eyes upon her.

Perhaps she did, for she suddenly halted. When she looked over her shoulder, her expression was of such accusation that I confess to feeling slightly taken aback.

She bit her lip as she turned to face me fully. 'Your ploy didn't work, you know.' Her tone of voice was triumphant.

'Excuse me?'

'It didn't work!'

What in the name of arse was she talking about? 'You are talking in riddles, Miss Granger,' I declared in a bored voice, which served to infuriate her.

And thus she revealed her issue. She had overheard us talking in the staff room, just now, she said. 'You actually planned to… seduce me, did you?'

For my own part, I nearly burst out laughing. It's not often that I get the urge to indulge in a bout of laughter, and I admit I regretted that I could not, in good conscience, indulge in it now. Instead, I frowned. 'Have you ever heard of having a joke? Good-natured teasing?'

She remained unconvinced; she nodded her head bitterly. 'Oh, I've no doubt that with regards to Professor McGonagall, it was a joke. It wasn't with you, though, was it? No! It was the bloody truth! You hoped to make me more amenable to your situation!'

I was quickly losing patience with her ridiculousness. I stepped towards her with an air of contemplation. 'Do you know, I've never thought about it before, but yes…' I paused and fixed her with an unblinking glare, and my voice was full of scorn. 'I must seem the very essence of a sexual predator!'

Merlin, the idea was laughable. I was many things, but that? I would not have the first idea where to begin.

'You're right, Miss Granger. I am the very worst of blackguards in that respect. Why, sometimes, I only have to click my fingers and poor damsels fall at my feet!'

Her fury only increased, while I, I confess, was beginning to enjoy myself.

'Don't mock me!'

'Go on then, enlighten me as to how I did it. What is your grand theory?'

She answered readily. 'You're a Slytherin—you did it in the most cunning way possible. You made it appear that it was me doing the chasing! You antagonised me because you knew it would infuriate me and make me take notice of you! Why else did you then decide to stand around listening to my woes in an almost empathetic way? You should have ignored me, but you did not, and it made me think twice about you. What you wanted, I'm sure. And the best bit, your trump card, was all that crap you told me about your conspiracy theories! You wanted to make me feel indignation on your behalf—make me think, 'Here is this man who is trying his best and will always be second-guessed by others; this man who believes himself responsible for driving away students'! And what do you know? I did feel indignation, and—' She clamped her mouth shut.

I was speechless. I had no idea whether to be angry, offended, disappointed… I just couldn't believe she had conjured all that up from one evidently throwaway remark she had overheard.

'To think I actually liked you,' she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if disgusted with her own stupidity.

That made me take several quick steps towards her, and if she flinched in surprise, well, I didn't care. 'I will tell you this only once, Miss Granger,' I said in deadly voice. 'I have not sought to procure your affections under any circumstance. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if you do have them, then it is your misfortune to have developed them most independently.' I leant my shoulders downwards a fraction, so we were on more of an eye-level. 'Let us think of it this way. Why should I resort to such, admittedly, underhand and convoluted tactics? I should only do so were I hiding some big secret, or maintaining some big cover-up.'

She refused to move her gaze from mine, defiance personified, but I fancied I sensed a speck of doubt mar those eyes of hers.

'Perhaps you just didn't want to take any chances.'

I made a soft noise of disagreement in my throat. 'Oh, that will never do, Miss Granger.' I straightened and allowed myself a smirk as I did so. She did not look at me now.

I placed a finger under her chin and drew it slowly under her jaw until it reached the tip of her chin, tilting her head upwards. Those eyes were defiant again. 'You know what this means, don't you, Miss Granger?' I said in a soft whisper of dry pity. 'You're just as paranoid as I am.'

She blinked, and her expression faltered to one of sudden unease, and then she turned and left me.

I stood still, unmoving, and might have stood there uselessly for much longer had a voice not cut through the haze of my mind.

'Merlin! You've got yourself a little firecracker there, Severus!'

I had my wand out and aimed at the interference without thinking about it. Dumbledore shrank back in his portrait. 'You talk twaddle, old man! I haven't got myself an anything, and neither do I intend to. You'd do well to remember it.'

I stormed up the stairs, flicked my wand, and marched into my chambers. How dare she accuse me of such a thing? Silly girl! It seemed to me that I had had a very narrow escape. Fancy getting myself entangled with a woman as ridiculous as she? What did I need with such an irrational woman when I had more than enough irrationality on my own?

More pressingly, what did it mean for the inspection? Should I expect a call from Ministry officials any time soon, following up a complaint from Granger about my supposed conduct? Would she let herself be influenced by this when writing up the report? Surely she had more sense in her than that? She would see her stupidity—she'd better see it, or…

This was why having her as the chief inspector had been a bad decision from the off. Had I not felt a sense of foreboding as soon as I'd clapped eyes on her that day, two months ago? I'd considered her attachment to the castle a plus, but I had not reckoned on the benefits of being wholly detached from the situation. She, clearly, was too involved, regardless of when the last time she had set foot in the castle was. She knew its occupants—we had a shared past, to an extent, that was bound to influence interactions. We should not have got into irritatingly personal conversations, had it been any other way.

And now it had gone tits up.

And if Minerva ever found out what had gone on between Granger and me (which well she might), and what, potentially, we had compromised, I was sure she would cheerfully kill me.


AN: Thanks for reading : )