Harry Potter and its characters, story, and everything else is © J. K. Rowling.
Brilliant but Scary
▼ Chapter Thirty Two ▼
All in all, Hermione was pleased with how things were going. The silly tournament had progressed past its first task a few days prior, in which Cedric had made a rather good showing for himself, which was exactly what she wanted, while Fleur had as well. Hermione suspected that Hagrid's affection for the French witch's headmistress was likely why the girl had been so well prepared, but that wasn't her concern; it didn't matter if the French did well, as long as Cedric did as well.
Viktor Krum, on the other hand, struggled, apparently having not gotten the tip off about the task from anyone, and as such he was firmly behind the other two champions. This was also good in her mind, because she did not particularly care for Krum or his lingering glances in her direction.
It was bad enough that the oaf was hanging around the library, reading up on who knew or cared what, and with him came rather too many others there to see him. The library was her sanctum, and he was trespassing. Even the small joy that had been from watching Harry rather performatively pull her in for a kiss right there in the aisles when he spotted the Bulgarian had lost its luster after that day in Hogsmeade.
She wondered how much Harry's choice to hold off on giving an answer to Karkaroff about his offer had to do with his clear dislike of the Durmstrang headmaster's star pupil as much as it did his lessons with Professor Moody. Not that Hermione faulted him; as much as she thought there was an interesting opportunity to learn things, she was rather aware that Igor had dodged her point about his school's policy on muggleborns.
In the meantime, there was another way to learn that didn't involve surrounding yourself with dubiously intentioned wizards, or at least not only them. It had actually been Harry's idea, one she was rather impressed with as well, and they'd hashed the idea out over the last few days. It was for this reason that she'd raced to finish a book that their Head of House had lent her, to give an excuse to go pay him a visit.
Which was why she was now here, knocking on his door, a treatise on wand movement and why it mattered held to her chest, alongside another book of an entirely different purpose.
"Come in," came the professor's voice, in an intonation that spoke of annoyance at the interruption. Hermione knew that the professor liked her, or at least disliked her less than other people, and was not so worried; he hadn't taken house points from her in quite some time, and even then it had been very minor. As long as she had the book she had a reason as well, or at least one beyond asking for something.
She opened the door and walked in, trying not to wrinkle her nose too much at the mélange of scents that assaulted her as she did. It was almost impressive how every time she was in the office there was some new mixture of odors, the only constant being the scent of the fire crackling in the fireplace. A less polite part of her wanted to comment on the incredible smells he'd discovered, but had better sense than to bring it up.
The room was domed, with dark charcoal gray stonework and walls covered in shelves, which were themselves covered in a mixture of jars containing various potioneering ingredients and books of various kinds. Hermione was pleased that she could identify a few more of the oddities that lined the wall, each time she came back here trying to recognize just a few more. Most still escaped her knowledge, no doubt some obscure item for an equally obscure potion.
Hermione did not speak as she stepped up, avoiding bumping into any of the other alembics, flasks, or stacks of parchment or tools as she made her way to stand in front of the professor's desk. His head was down, scratching away with a quill on parchment that she couldn't make out due to the angle and lighting and the fact his desk was set up in such a way that she could only think of as organized clutter. She said nothing, simply waiting to be acknowledged, trying to hide the nervous energy she always had when talking with teachers. She set the book down on an empty spot, and waited.
"Miss Granger," he said after several moments, not looking up from his desk as he did, nor ceasing his writing, "Have you finished the text already, then? I had my doubts even you would be able to grasp it quickly, and had not expected you back so soon."
It took a moment for her to decide if she should be pleased or offended by his words, and opted for the former, as praise was scant from the man, as was much more than rather blunt and honest appraisals, at least when he wasn't making cutting jokes or going off into rather heated rages for one reason or another. Hermione got the feeling that her Head of House had a habit of bottling things up and letting them spill out at inappropriate times, which was perhaps not the best trait for a teacher of children to have.
She also wondered if she was about the closest anyone came to being teacher's pet with someone like Snape. Even Draco, who got away with quite a lot thanks to the man, was hardly visiting to return borrowed books, or at least as far as Hermione knew. Draco certainly read more than some others she knew, but she had doubts he was up to the task of the sort of things Professor Snape had.
"It was challenging, sir, but useful, thank you for lending it to me."
"Yes, well, I have nothing else for you at this time," the man said quickly, still scribbling away. She didn't bother glancing at the bookshelves, knowing better. He was not giving her access, merely a glimpse, tightly controlled. She did wonder what he kept hidden away instead of in the open.
It had been close to a dismissal, but Hermione simply stood and waited. The scratching sound of his quill continued until he finally let out a huff and dropped it, looking up for the first time. He folded his hands in front of him and spoke.
"You have something else to say, Granger?"
"Ah, yes," she began, remembering how she'd practiced in her head nearly a dozen times on the walk over, "I was thinking about how a certain amount of practical education is lacking."
"I have not the time nor inclination to take on private tutoring, Miss Granger, so you will have to content yourself with books."
"No, Sir, I mean, of course, but that isn't what I meant," she replied quickly. Snape just favored her with his perpetual glower, but she pushed on, "I was more thinking that perhaps the dueling club could be reformed. Practical application of defense is hard to get, and we have a unique opportunity this year, as well."
"Do we, now?" he asked in a languid droll. Hermione lifted her chin up and nodded sharply.
"Yes, because with the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons we have a chance to face different kinds of magic and ways of dueling."
There was a pause, as if he was considering it, before he spoke again, "Most of the students from the other schools are from higher years."
"You can learn through observation too, after all. And there are some of us who are quite advanced as well."
"Do be careful, Granger; hubris has a way of revealing fools. That said, I do see the merit in this idea. I will… speak to Professor Moody about it."
The way Snape said the final words was reluctant, almost pained, and Hermione wondered what history was behind that. Instead, though, she had yet another card to play.
"Yes, well, actually he has already agreed," she said quickly, "As long as another teacher endorsed it."
Strictly speaking, Harry had been the one to speak to Professor Moody. The man had been keen on the idea even if he thought dueling was a poor substitute for a real fight. The rules, the pageantry, it was all junk to the former auror. Dueling was about the only way to justify learning to fight at all, though, without raising too much ire and the man had rather happily, according to Harry, agreed. It had been Harry's idea to go to him first, even, apparently thinking of something the man had said in one of their talks.
"I see," Snape intoned quietly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He seemed deathly still for a moment, and, just as suddenly, took in a breath and spoke, "Very well, then, I speak with him about the arrangements. It would do the students here some good to learn what it is like to be at the other end of a wand."
"Thank you, Professor," she said with honest excitement, and the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch, but little more as he turned back to the parchment.
"Well, if you have nothing else, I have business to attend to," he said, but Hermione once did not make to leave. There was something else, something she had rather agonized about bringing up. It was a risk, to be sure, but if she was right she would find potentially an invaluable help, a mentor even, in certain things that were beyond difficult. She still remembered how he'd spoke of the dark arts when he'd begun the dueling club in her second year, and the books he was sharing made her think… but…
"There is something else, professor," she said, throwing her courage to the sticking place. Her fingers tightened around the other book she was still carrying as he looked back up, a mixture of annoyance and confusion clear on his face. Still, he once again propped his hands up on his desk, folded in front of him. He said nothing, simply waiting for Hermione to speak.
"I have been working on a spell," she said, words coming out a bit more frantic than she intended, and she made a point to rein herself in as she spoke again, "And I'd like to get your opinion on it."
"You seek help on a spell," drolled the man, more a statement than a question. She made a sharp nod anyway, and he continued, "And you ask me instead of Professor Flitwick."
She nodded again, and his eyes narrowed, "I take it that this spell is not something that Professor Flitwick would be amenable to, then. Jinx then, or perhaps a hex?"
"Um, more of a curse, really." she said tentatively, and then tried very hard to read Snape's expression. It was still tight, yet there was something in those eyes, the way they looked and glanced down at the book she held. There was no reproach in them, only a little bit of something she rather thought was curiosity.
"You're working on a new curse," he said, and she nodded. Slowly, she opened the grimoire and offered it to him. He took it calmly but firmly, but the eager look in his eyes betrayed the truth of his passion for the dark arts, just as she'd suspected.
"I was attempting to create a contact incendiary spell," she began to explain as he looked over her work. The notation was immaculate, of course, but she wanted to explain it all the same, "Incendio creates a jet of flames, and as such has some limitations in terms of how it is cast."
"It can be relatively easily blocked or avoided, yes," Snape murmured as he flipped a page, eyes flicking across the text and formula.
"Exactly, yes!" she replied with excitement, unable to contain herself or her excitement, "Incendio was not intended as an offensive spell, so I wanted to create a spell that instead ignited at a point instead. I considered a targeted transmutation, but…"
"No, that would require far too much focus and precision," said the professor, cutting in even as he continued to read, finger sliding across the page as he soaked it in, "I suspect not even Dumbledore or the deputy headmistress would attempt it, even as masters of the art."
"Right," she said, a bit more slowly, "So, I instead looked for a way to target an object directly, and then create the effect there."
As if on cue Snape reached the latest iteration of the spell. His fingered tapped the page several times as he soaked it in, eyes glimmering and a sly grin even spreading on his face.
"Repurposing the principles of the summoning charm," he said, glancing up. Hermione felt a flush a pride as she saw the honest approval on his face and heard it in his tone, "Rather ingenious, Miss Granger, I have to admit. However, that is ineffective against a living target."
His chair made a scraping noise as he pushed it back and stood, voluminous robes flaring as he spun on his heels and moved towards one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls. Fingers danced across bindings until Snape made a satisfied sound and snatched out one book and then another. The man turned again and set one of the books down and flipped the other open and through its pages.
"However, I take it you are having issues with… precision," he said while his eyes searched for something. Hermione was about to reply when he suddenly aha'd and thrust the book into her hands, a long crooked finger tapping a section, "Here, this may solve the problem. Using the summoning as a base was clever, but will not allow the concentration of effect you are trying for. I suspect you would be better off with this method."
"Who wrote this?" Hermione said as her brow furrowed as she worked to parse the complex section on targeting matrices and wand movements.
"A graduate of Vincent Clortho, a North American... school," Snape said, hesitating a bit on the last word, "It is not a major one, but has a reputation for its… use of offensive magic. The work itself is not revolutionary, but is a rather comprehensive take on the subject."
Hermione could see why. Clearly whoever wrote the book had ample time to work with various forms of dark magic, in the sense that it was a very thorough explanation of the function. Her original goal had been a precise ignition at a near instantaneous speed, but she should have known it would be far more complicated. This, though…
"I cannot allow you to borrow this book."
Her eyes snapped up with dismay, but the professor simply rolled his eyes, "Come, Granger, do you expect that I would allow a book on curses from my personal collection to leave this office? Even if I trusted you enough to lend that to you it could very well cost me my career if I was found out. You may read it here, and only here. I will allow you a few hours per week to consult my library, and..."
He trailed off for a moment and returned to his desk, lifting up her grimoire, "You will show me your work each week, and will show a counter curse to anything you create. I saw that you had already been doing so, which is a sign of rare wisdom for someone of your age who would dabble in such things, but you will continue to do so as a condition of access to my personal library.."
It was more a statement than a question, like so much the professor said. However, she got the feeling that there was more than mere concern as her professor or Head of House there. It was not indecent, at least not in the sense that she had worried that slimy git Lockhart might have been towards some of his own fawning admirers, but more something almost academic. More and more she was sure she had been right about Snape's passion for the dark arts. That, of course, begged the question why he wasn't teaching that class, or rather Defense Against it at least.
"Miss Granger," he said, drawing her attention back and she flushed slightly in embarrassment at getting distracted.
"Sorry, I mean yes, of course, that would be fantastic!" Hermione excitedly replied. Snape simply let out an amused huff and snapped her spellbook shut.
"Your grimoire," he began before he offered it back, turning it slightly to admire its binding and materials, "Is very high quality. A gift from Potter, I presume?"
"Um, yes," she replied, taking it back and cradling it to her chest while she smiled, "I keep telling him not to spend so much money on me but he just insists."
Something flashed in the professor's eyes, and his brow furrowed for the briefest of moments, "Yes, well, Potter men can be very insistent."
Hermione's own brows furrowed in confusion, and she was about to speak, but Snape had turned and returned to his desk, tone dismissive as he spoke.
"You have taken up enough of my time for today, Miss Granger," he said as he sat down, "I will speak to Professor Moody. Please keep any time you wish to consult my books to times after classes have completed, and only after your homework is done."
She remained just for a moment, debating if she should ask. Professor Snape made the answer clear though when he looked up, eyes sharp, "That will be all. Goodbye"
Harry sat in one of the plush chairs in the common room of the Slytherin dorms, book in hand, and indulged in the simple comfort of things being calm. Things were better, Harry had decided, and he was very happy about it.
It wasn't really hard to say so, they simply were. His lessons with Professor Moody were interesting, even if he was still having issues with clearing his mind the way the man was trying to teach him. The former auror was rather clear that he was not even being particularly aggressive in his probes, but only rarely was Harry able to throw them back. He was, though, doing that sometimes, and could often do so after the fact. The professor, however, was not so impressed; he had to learn to block out the initial attack entirely.
Despite this, though, Harry felt he was learning, and it was something rather interesting too. Hermione had explained that an occlumens could resist almost any method to probe their mind or compel them to answer, even from Veritaserum, the most powerful truth potion of all. She had expressed an eagerness to learn as well, though Moody had seemed reluctant to take on yet another student, not the least one he thought would end up just distracting or being distracted by the other. Hermione had been annoyed, but given Professor Snape was apparently giving her access to some very technical books she seemed at least mollified or at least distracted enough.
That's where she was now, in fact. Hermione had made a habit of visiting their Head of House on Tuesdays mostly, apparently rarely even speaking with Professor Snape other than a greeting and goodbye. It was strange; the man could be a right git at times, Harry still remembered those early days at Hogwarts after all, but if you were apparently one of his favorites he became rather tolerable. It wasn't particularly fair, of course, but Harry wasn't about to resent benefiting from apparently being the boyfriend of one of those students; Snape had left him alone, mostly, ever since Hermione had apparently gotten on his good side.
Well, that and that moment at the lake. Harry wasn't sure what it meant that he and the man shared a similar patronus; it wasn't exactly something they'd spoken about. Or, rather, he hadn't really spoken to the man at all afterwards. It was strange how easy it seemed to be to forget things, though; in the rush after, it hadn't seemed all that important.
Even now, he was reluctant to bring it up, lest something upset the simple peace of things. It was nice for things to be so calm for once.
His eyes moved across the pages, flicking up to check the entrance whenever it opened in hopes it was Hermiome, only to return in disappointment. The text he was going through was less complex than some of the works Hermione indulged in, but an interesting one nevertheless; a dueling guide, one he'd taken up reading to help prepare himself for one of the other reasons things were better: the dueling club that would begin before long. The deputy headmistress had insisted that it wait till after the Yule Ball, giving a variety of reasons that largely seemed to be cover for making sure the various students would not make fools of themselves in front of the other schools on the dance floor.
Of course, the Yule Ball itself was something else that things were better about; the event itself wasn't something he largely was looking forward to, but he was hoping that it would lead to getting a few less hopeful glances from witches in the halls. They had to know better than to expect him to ask them, after all, and maybe they'd finally figure things out. Viktor was still lurking around the library, but Harry had made a sort of peace with that. In this case, peace was another word for snogging Hermione whenever he saw the Bulgarian.
Harry wondered if Krum was going to participate in the dueling club, and was hoping he would. Didn't matter that he was older, or came from a school that taught the dark arts, or anything, Harry just didn't care, not one bit. He'd beat him, yes, oh yes…
If he bothered to take part, of course.
The entrance opened, and Harry's eyes shot up again. Once again he was disappointed, however, though somewhat less than before. Though it wasn't Hermione, it was Blaise. He smiled at the boy, who gave him a nod in return, and then jerked his head to call Harry over while heading for a more secluded part of the room. The green-eyed boy watched his friend a for a moment before mentally shrugging, putting a bookmark in before snapping the book shut as he stood and made his way over.
"Hey, Harry," a voice chimed as he walked by, and Harry turned. Daphne Greengrass gave him nod, and he gave a small smile and a somewhat distracted 'hello' before he moved on. He noticed that Ginny had apparently noticed and came over as well, and was already speaking to Blaise in a low but casual tone. They both turned to him as he approached, and he gave Ginny a smile and a nod before he turned to Blaise. He was about to ask what was up when a voice from behind spoke up.
"Hey there, Potter," it said, and Harry glanced to see a dark-skinned girl whose name he thought was Bridget smiling at him as she walked by. He thought she was a year behind him, and he simply nodded and then turned back to his friends without a word. Blaise spoke before he could.
"Are you going to the Yule Ball with Hermione?"
It took Harry a moment to process the words. He stared, blank faced at his friend before his eyebrow raised in clear confusion. He looked from Blaise to Ginny, and the back before he replied, "Of course, who else would I go with?"
Blaise and Ginny glanced at each other, sharing a strange look, and then both looked back at Harry.
"Have you asked her to go with you?" asked Ginny, earning another confused look. Harry's brow furrowed.
"She's my girlfriend, we do almost everything together," he said, as if that answered it, but both of his friends gave him somewhat dubious looks, "So it's a given we'd go together?"
It was surprising to Harry that it came out more a question than he expected, and he frowned as that strange feeling began to grow in his chest again. He pushed at it, shoving it down and away, tone a bit cold as he spoke again, "Why are you asking me this?"
"Ginny said she heard Hermione talking with some folks," Blaise said, turned to the girl, who nodded.
"She apparently pulled Cedric Diggory off to speak privately, and apparently was talking to some other folks too, some girls said she brought up various boys, and apparently she was seen talking to boys too. A lot of them ended up asking people but it just seemed odd."
Another girl said his name, but he didn't even bother to turn this time. He watched as Blaise and Ginny both glanced behind him and found himself getting increasingly annoyed. Harry shook his head, "She hadn't said anything about it, but it's nothing. Of course we're going together."
"Maybe she's just thinking of going with someone else because you are always together," Ginny said, tone seeming conciliatory, "Probably wouldn't mean anything even then."
His eyes narrowed a bit at that, but Ginny seemed somewhat oblivious as she spoke again, as if changing the subject, "Well, anyway, I just hope someone asks me. Third years can't go unless they're asked by someone from fourth year or above."
"Sorry, already got a date," Blaise quipped, earning a scowl from Ginny. Harry felt himself a bit amused by the playfulness, feeling a bit light.
"Me too, after all," he insisted, "But don't worry, Ginny, I'm sure you'll get asked. You're a pretty and brilliant witch after all, anyone would be lucky to go with you."
Ginny seemed about to say something when the door to the common room opened, and Harry turned to look. A wide smile grew on his face as he saw Hermione walk in. She looked around, and then his smile became near incandescent as she saw him and gave him one of her own.
"Hermione!" he said almost breathlessly as he near rushed over, a strange look of worry and confusion growing on her face as she saw his intensity.
"Is something wrong, Harry?"
"Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" he asked, and her expression only grew more confused. She looked off behind him, to where Blaise and Ginny were walking over, and then back to Harry. She spoke again, her tone almost bewildered.
"Of course, Harry, who else would I go with?"
Harry stared for just a moment before he began to laugh, shaking his head and pulling her in for a kiss. She was still confused after he pulled away, but Harry? He was just happy. How silly he'd been.
Of course they'd be together.
Of course.