Hermione trailed after Snape as they headed into the depths of the Ministry, her stomach churning and her thoughts in turmoil. She had no idea what to expect, which meant she couldn't properly prepare, which in turn meant that she was on the verge of panicking. Normally when she was this keyed up, she would re-alphabetize her books or recite every spell she knew in the order that she'd learned them, but neither was appropriate nor available here.
"I can practically hear your imminent anxiety attack," Snape said over his shoulder. "As I said, this is a simple meet and greet. No cause for alarm."
"Right, because every dealing I've ever had with Ministry officials has just gone swimmingly," she snapped back, albeit under her breath.
"I can also hear your muttering," he remarked, and his calm demeanor sparked her ire.
Whispering as softly as she could, she said, "Good, then you can hear me call you an overbearing, pompous, vexing—"
He whirled around so quickly she slammed into him. He steadied her with both his hands on her shoulders, but just as soon let them drop again. "Careful, Miss Granger, or all your flattery will go straight to my head."
"How did you hear that?"
"You aren't the only one who has used magic to tamper with their bodies." He quirked a brow and tapped her mouth once, indicating her teeth.
She took a big step back and crossed her arms. "Well! I would probably never have if someone hadn't made a terrible comment about them!"
"Would it help if I said I couldn't be seen favoring Gryffindors?"
"No!"
"What about if I told you I've said much worse, far more often, to Draco?"
"Still no."
He exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry for the insult. Can we please proceed to our appointment? We're wasting time."
"Fine. But I expect to hear all about how you've magically altered your eardrums." They began walking again, and Hermione contemplated the relevant danger of using magic on the parts of oneself that you couldn't see. At least she'd been in front of a mirror when she'd had Pomfrey fix her teeth.
"I'll tell you that as soon as you tell me the fascinating story of how Hermione Granger came to be a wand master."
"Never!"
He shrugged, and then they were there. The door in front of them simply read "Level Nine, Do Not Enter".
"Do you think it's like Ravenclaw Tower, where we have to solve a riddle?" she asked, studying the door.
"No." He reached for the handle and pushed, and the door opened. "I think it's like opening a door," he said, sounding smug.
"The sign says—"
"And there she is." He stepped aside to let her go in first, and added, "Perhaps try to tone down the—Grangerness, hmm?"
She stuck out her tongue at him, but then sobered. "If you think I'm going in first, you're barmy. I'll watch you enter to make sure there isn't a hex waiting, thank you." She nudged her chin in the direction of the interior and waited. Snape shrugged again and entered the room. When there was no explosion or sound, Hermione tentatively followed. She was highly disappointed to see a very bland-looking waiting room.
"Well. That's unexpected." She wandered up to the sole desk and examined the paper on top. "This just says to write your name, and someone will be with you." She worried the tip of her nail between her teeth. "I don't know, maybe this is all some elaborate trap—"
"I'm afraid we're just as dull as we seem," a feminine voice said, and Hermione jerked her head up to see a middle-aged witch entering the room from an arched doorway that was already disappearing again on the back wall. "I'm Fennica Foxglove, the director of this department. If you're ready, you can both follow me." She turned and headed back towards the wall without waiting for their response.
Hermione and Snape shared a concerned glance. This all seemed so...formal. And bizarre. Hermione's second thoughts about this endeavor were multiplying into third, fourth, fifth, and twentieth thoughts.
"You don't have to, of course. You can return the way you came, if you wish." Fennica smiled and disappeared through the archway.
"I guess it's now or never," Hermione muttered.
"I have nothing of import to lose," Snape said, then walked towards the archway. "Shall we?"
His use of the word we had more to do with Hermione's decision to go through the door than anything else, but she decided then and there that she would never admit it to him.
Inside was a rather plain rectangular room that stretched as far as Hermione's eye could see. It was dimly lit, so perhaps it wasn't endless, but it certainly felt that way. Fennica was seated with two much older wizards, neither of whom was smiling or looking the least bit welcoming.
"Hermione Granger and Severus Snape," one of them barked. "Do you consent to interrogation under Veritaserum?"
"Interrogation? This was supposed to be a casual meet," Hermione blurted out, turning to glare at Snape. He looked equally bewildered, however, so she returned her attention to the table as Fennica spoke.
"You may leave at any time. If you're willing to continue, simply ingest these and we'll begin our questions." She waved her wand and two small vials came floating softly towards them. Snape plucked his out of the air and looked at Hermione. Hesitant, she considered the one in front of her. If she did this, she was committing to Merlin only knew what. If she didn't...well, then she wouldn't know, would she? She'd simply be stuck in the lobby for another two and a half years...
In the end, her decision was a simple one. She maintained eye contact with Snape while they both drank, and then their vials vanished. Hermione didn't feel any different, but she began to worry—Snape was far better at Occlumency than she was, and she wasn't sure how she was going to react to the serum. It was a restricted potion, after all; who knew what words were about to tumble out of her mouth?
"State your names and your birthdates," the same wizard intoned. Mentally Hermione nicknamed him Beardy, thanks to his waist-length beard, and other she decided would be Mutey. For obvious reasons.
She listened as Snape answered and then she did as well. She assumed this was their way of getting a baseline reading on each of them—asking them questions where there would be no prevarication.
"Now you may state the amount of time left on your sentencing," Beardy announced.
"Five thousand, eight hundred ninety hours," Hermione said, trying to keep the irritation out of her tone.
Snape closed his eyes, his expression pained as he replied, "Forty-three thousand, eight hundred fifty hours. More or less."
Hermione's mouth fell open. "That's outrageous! These prigs honestly sentenced you to—" she did some quick calculations in her head— "seventeen years of slavery? For what, saving Harry's arse when it mattered most? That's no way to repay one of the bravest—"
"Miss Granger," Fennica interrupted, but Hermione wasn't done.
"—most self-sacrificing—"
"This is your last warning," Fennica put in.
"—DEVOUTLY LOYAL, HEROIC WIZARDS IN THIS ENTIRE BLOODY COUNTRY!" Hermione finished, glaring at the three people seated in front of her. They looked stunned, and with good reason. Hermione doubted anyone had ever shouted at them during an interview before.
"Are you quite finished?" Beardy asked, frowning.
"As a matter of fact, I am not. How dare you?" she snarled.
"Miss Granger, this panel was not a part of that proceeding. If we could carry on with our questions now—"
"I will not—"
"Hermione." Snape's quiet plea, and his use of her name, silenced her. Chastened, she realized she was doing a great job ruining this opportunity for him, and she'd never realized just how much he needed it. Nearly two decades—the length of time was insane and sobering. She wouldn't stand in the way of him doing something to pay it back that didn't include the lobby.
She crossed her arms and focused on a place just above Fennica's head, so she wouldn't feel the urge to punch Beardy in the face on Snape's behalf.
There was a long pause, as if they were waiting to see whether she had herself under control again, and then Beardy continued his questioning.
State your greatest fear. State your most valued possession. Describe your personal moral code in ten words or less. State your most dangerous vice. Would you abandon your partner in exchange for money, gold, lavish houses, etc. So it went for the next thirty minutes. Hermione didn't bother attempting to make herself look good—whether that was the Veritaserum or her attempt at ensuring they didn't pick her for this job, she wasn't sure.
Soon, the questions took a different turn.
"How many Os have you received from a Wizarding institution?" Fennica asked.
"Seven." Snape's answer was accompanied by a smug smirk in Hermione's direction. Most of the hardest-working students only ever sat for four or five; seven was practically unheard of.
Hermione tried not to answer. She knew now that if she tried to lie, she simply couldn't; but interestingly, the potion also seemed to compel her to answer when she wanted to stay mute.
"….Nine."
Even Beardy seemed taken aback by her answer, but she saw Fennica's lips twitch in a barely-there smile.
"You earned nine bloody Os?" Snape asked, his first outburst since they'd arrived.
Hermione turned to look at him. "You said being a smart, capable witch was nothing to be ashamed of!"
"Of course it isn't! But nine? Was that entirely necessary?" His eyes were starting to bulge. Hermione wondered if he was shocked, appalled...or jealous.
"You tell me, Mr. I Have Seven," she retorted. Snape's answer was an inelegant snort. She could have sworn she heard him whisper Grangerness under his breath, but his lips barely moved.
Fennica laced her fingers and leaned forward to address them. "I only have one further question," she said calmly, as if they weren't bickering over grades. "Do you harbor any romantic or sexual feelings for one another?"
Hermione felt her stomach crash through the floor and her face flame. Immediately, she thought back to Snape's wet knickers comment, his calling her Miss Granger in the hallway earlier, several of the more recent dreams she'd had about him... She wanted to dash from the room rather than answer this question honestly. Her only consolation was that Snape was under the same influence as she was. But oh, son of a hippogriff—what if she said yes and he said no?
Afraid to look at him, Hermione wondered what would happen if they both simply didn't answer. Already she could feel the words forming at her lips, but she tried to wrestle them back. Surely they were nearing the limits of the potion's efficacy—if she could only keep this to herself for a bit more—
"Yes," she blurted out.
Snape's head snapped around and he stared hard at her. Hermione mouthed "I'm sorry" at him before squeezing her eyes shut.
"Yeeessssss." The way Snape said it, it sounded like the one word contained fifteen syllables. And every last one of them raced through Hermione's system, setting off tingles and shivers and very inappropriate thoughts.
She knew her face was bright red, but she resolutely opened her eyes and stared back at her spot on the wall, determined not to make this any more embarrassing than it already was. Hopefully, if that had been Fennica's last question, then Beardy would be nearly done as well.
However, it was Mutey who spoke. His voice sounded rusty from disuse.
"Tell us the skill you're most proud of mastering," Mutey said, addressing the question to both but eyeing Snape.
Hermione swallowed hard. Here it was, then, her worry come to life: she was going to have to explain herself and her wand manipulation to a bunch of Ministry officials.
But Snape, bless him, answered first. "Legilimency without direct eye contact," he said quietly. Hermione was so surprised, she whipped around to stare at him.
"You never told me that!" she hissed.
Snape turned his head to stare right back. "You never asked."
"Wait, have you ever—" Before she could ask if he'd used that particular skill on her, Beardy jumped in.
"And your skill, Granger?" he demanded.
"I don't want to tell you," she stated baldly, happy to know that at least the Veritaserum would allow her to dodge the question when she honestly stated that she wanted to dodge it.
At this, Beardy actually almost smiled. "Tell us the skill you're most proud of mastering," he repeated from Mutey's earlier inquiry.
"I really don't want to," she tried.
"For Merlin's sake, Granger! They're Unspeakables, they can't tell anyone." Snape's frustration was clear in his tone and the look he gave her.
"I'm fairly certain that's not how being an Unspeakable works," Hermione retorted.
"And you know this how, from one of your nine fucking Os?" he sneered.
"No, I—"
"Children, please! Answer the question, Miss Granger. Now." Fennica was openly laughing.
"I'm highly proficient at wandless magic, and I-successfully-enchanted-a-number-of-wands-so-that-they-wouldn't-register-my-magical-signature." The last bit all came out in a rush, but Hermione noted that the truth potion didn't seem to care that she'd said it incoherently, just that she'd said it. Interesting. She tucked that information away for another time.
"Thank you both for your time. If you'll step back into the waiting room, you may leave when the door opens." Fennica stood and gestured towards the archway. Hermione was so surprised by this abrupt end to their interrogation—not to mention the lack of follow-up on her answer—that she docilely followed Snape out into the waiting room without hesitation. The archway disappeared behind them, and Hermione turned to press her fingers to the wall. Nothing—it just felt like solid wall.
The entry door sprung open, and Snape gestured for her to exit. Bemused and exhausted by the day's events, Hermione preceded him into the hallway, wondering how much longer they'd both be under the influence of the Veritaserum.
A/N: The "nine fucking Os" line comes from another fanfiction I read not too long ago, but despite searching for it, I can't find it! It was about Snape writing a ridiculous agreement to persuade Hermione not to be his apprentice, and then she goes and does it anyway. If you know the one I'm talking about, please let me know!