Severus was in a very good mood when they left the bedroom, but it came crashing around his ears rather quickly.
"Letter for you, Professor," the father said, a particularly sharp emphasis on the title.
"Thank you," Severus replied neutrally, taking the thick parchment envelope. He knew what it was the moment he touched it. The thick wax seal on the back was the ornate "H" of the Hogwarts crest. He'd had one every summer since he was eleven, short the two directly following his seventh year. It was early, though, and this one wasn't from Dumbledore.
We the Board of Governors would gladly like to offer you the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It was a lengthy letter. It told him all about his long years of service to the school, his exemplary reputation as Head of House, his contributions to his field despite the rigorous duties of his post. Whichever of the Governors had written it liked adjectives too much.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, pulling him out of the letter. He'd opened it at the table while the toast was down.
"It's—I'm—" He took a breath, striving for equilibrium. "They've named me Headmaster."
"Headmaster!" the mother said.
"What?" the father said.
"That was the whole point, wasn't it?" Hermione asked over them both. He blinked at her.
"Yes." It's still jarring, though. Dumbledore is Headmaster of Hogwarts. Not me.
"Eat your toast, Severus," she said, her voice amused and patient. She put a plate in front of him, toast spread with jam, and turned away to see to tea. He was overwhelmed for a long moment, not by the appointment but by Hermione. She's wonderful. Just takes everything in stride and keeps on...
He ate his toast, setting the letter aside for the moment. He would have to go to Hogwarts in the afternoon. There would be meetings. He'd have to smirk and look down his nose at them, which wouldn't be hard, but it would be in the Head's office and Dumbledore's portrait would be there.
Hermione and her parents were talking. It was a stilted conversation; the parents were tense. He wondered if it was because of the argument yesterday or if it was something else. He glanced up and met the father's eyes.
It was right there on the surface. Mr. Granger was staring, able to think of little else. That was why the conversation was so stilted, or at least part of it.
The image in the father's mind was crystal clear, beautiful to Severus but probably something different to the other man. Apparently the letter had arrived early, and they had assumed it was urgent. Mr. Granger had knocked, but the charms on the door meant they hadn't heard. It hadn't been locked, though, so he'd opened the door to wake them.
The morning light filtering through the curtains made everything shine. Hermione was moving in a very particular way on the bed, her legs caught up in the sheets, her hands holding onto his arms. Her curls rolled around her head, as beautiful from the back as it had been watching it from the front. Shadows played across her skin, the hills and valleys of the scars on her back catching the light.
The Severus of the thought groaned, the sound deeper, different than he was used to it. Then his own face, eyes locked on Hermione's. It was embarrassing to see things written so clearly across his own face after spending a lifetime guarding his expression.
The pair in the memory stilled their rocking to kiss. It was the sort of kiss that made him want to blush and look away, and that was odd considering what they'd been doing seconds before. They spun after a moment that hung in time, but the parents (the mother had joined the father at the door at some point) ducked out, closing the door.
Severus blinked, reflecting that it didn't seem to be the sex that had the father so focused on the memory, it was his daughter's scars.
Severus glanced at Hermione, noticing for the first time just how covered up she was and had been since her parents had joined them. In fact, the only one currently visible was the little white nick on her neck. They had seen the worst of the scars that morning, and that had been a shock even to him the first time he'd seen them.
A glance at the mother's eyes told him that she was focused on the same thing, though the sex was stuck in her mind more than it had been in Mr. Granger's.
Deliberately, Severus rolled up his sleeves. The Dark Mark was accompanied by the usual run of scars from so many years of potion-making, including a particularly ghastly gnarled bit of flesh just below his right elbow from the only cauldron he'd ever exploded. Hermione had a nice habit of kissing it when they were relaxing together.
It didn't take long.
"I suppose that's from an amputation, then," Mr. Granger said, pointing at the scar by Severus's elbow.
Severus looked up from pretending to reread his letter. "Amputation?"
Hermione looked between the pair of them, blinking curiously as she paid the Prophet owl for the morning paper. She gave him a shrewd look when she noticed his sleeves.
"You get sliced open like you did last night and it heals without a trace. What the hell kind of injury do you have to have to leave a scar like that?" the father asked. His hands were shaking, and he put down his cup and saucer to hide it.
Severus glanced at Hermione, wondering what she'd like him to say, but she seemed stunned.
"I exploded a cauldron when I was sixteen," he said, turning his arm so that the scar was on fully display. "My immediate concern was containing the damage—it was a rather noxious explosion. I used a charm to heal my arm; I didn't stop to use potion and spelled thread." He prodded the scar a bit, running his finger over the familiar lump of it. "Charms heal perfectly fine, but they almost always leave scars. Even for the little things. Like all these on my hands from knives slipping over the years while preparing ingredients."
"Merlin's left nut," Hermione swore, cutting off further conversation. They all looked at her, and she handed the paper to Severus.
He was fuming by the time he finished the front page story. There was more—details on page six!—but he shoved the paper away. Hermione put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed, more of a warning than a comfort.
"Calm down, Severus. You'll shatter the windows." She kissed his cheek and took his plate. He noted how carefully she was avoiding looking at her parents, who had picked up the paper when he'd tossed aside.
Severus forced himself to breathe. She was right; he was making the glass in the windows shudder.
The sources were all carefully anonymous, which was a good thing because he felt inclined to wring some necks at the moment. Multiple people had talked to a Daily Prophet reporter (also not listed, he noted now) about the Muggle Fights in Spain. About Hermione's involvement. It was a long piece on her "fall from grace." How she'd been seduced by the lure of time. How she'd been in the Fights for months without escape, only coming loose from them when the stadium had so grandly burnt to the ground.
It's probably a good thing they don't think she's the one to have burned it all. That might lead back to Remy Bird, and they might feel obligated to look into his death. Not likely, but they might.
She nodded at him from across the kitchen, agreeing with his thought.
The parents were in shock. They assumed that the story was entirely false and that was why Severus was bothered by it. He hoped she would let them keep that assumption. He didn't get to stay and find out, though. He had to meet the school governors.
\\
Severus returned after a long afternoon at Hogwarts. It was over and done with. His position was secure; the office had admitted him. Dumbledore's portrait had, thankfully, feigned sleep for the duration of the meeting.
He wasn't sure how he felt about being back. It had been the plan all along; he had known it was coming. He didn't feel guilty about killing the headmaster, but… But.
Severus put it out of his mind and entered their flat. Hermione had sent her parents off while he was away. She was sitting in the kitchen when he arrived, his bandolier of Unbreakable vials on the counter behind her with three vials of memory in it now—the new ones were simply labeled Mum and Dad. She sat staring at the folded up copy of the morning's Prophet. He wondered which page he would rate as the new headmaster, if he'd get an evening edition like she had.
"Think we ought to keep it for posterity?" he asked.
"I was going to burn it, actually. I just wanted to wait in case you wanted to read the rest of it first."
"Is there anything worth reading in there?"
"Well, there is a nice description of my tits on page six," she said tonelessly. "Apparently one of the sources thought they might be something that helped me survive all those fist fights with big hulking men." She turned to look at him. "A distraction."
"I certainly don't need some words in the newspaper to tell me how nice your tits are," Severus said, raising an eyebrow at her. He was relieved when she smiled.
He joined her at the table and watched her burn the newspaper away. It was past supper time, but he didn't think he could eat. She didn't look particularly inclined, either.
Not five minutes after she'd burned the morning's edition, the evening edition arrived. He was on the front page this time. "A New Headmaster for Hogwarts" detailed his loyalty to the school and his credentials, expounding on his half-blood status and including quotes from former students on his teaching abilities and helpfulness. In the final paragraph, it explained away the accusations from the Chosen One as stress from an unauthorized outing with Dumbledore, hinting at a future article about how the former headmaster had been losing it in his old age, and how his relationship with "Young Mr. Potter" hadn't been entirely what it should have been.
And now we begin, he thought. She nodded.
"Will you do the honors, then?" He held up the paper and she burned it away like the first.
They sat quietly at the table for awhile longer. He wondered if the Dark Lord would Summon him, but didn't expect it. He was fulfilling his task, and the article in the paper proved it. The Dark Lord would be focusing on the Ministry. Within the week, Potter would be moved from his aunt's house.
A/N: It was from Life, the Universe and Everything. "His face froze for a second or two and then began to do that terribly slow crashing trick that Arctic ice floes do so spectacularly in the spring." (Not a big reference, but I pulled it out almost word-for-word, so it deserved a comment.)
Also, don't worry— we will see a proper confrontation between Severus and the parents. Just not yet. (It's one of the bits that got moved around when I rewrote things after my trip. I think I like it better where I've put it, but you can all give me your feedback where that's concerned when it comes around!)
Cheers!
— M
