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Hermione puffed out a breath in exasperation for the umpteenth time as she wrote a T on the paper and circled it. Really, what was so difficult to understand about Grindylows? While she had to admit it wasn't a favourite topic of hers, the handy Revulsion jinx that she taught in conjunction with Grindylows could be used in various situations. The creature itself wouldn't really appear in front of anyone unless one decided to take a dip in questionable waters. Like the Black Lake.

Lupin's attempt at cultivating their knowledge of spells and jinxes with the aid of magical creatures in her third year had proven to be quite useful. It gave a more concrete example of how the spell could be used. Hermione had thought it quite a good teaching technique and decided to adapt it into some of her lessons.

She shifted in her seat to adjust herself. Her leg was stretched out onto a footstool in front of her and the swelling had subsided considerably since the previous day. The staff room was empty; the others either had classes or holed themselves up in their offices.

There were several essays to go before she would have completed marking the entire stack. At the rate she was progressing, she figured she would most likely finish much earlier than expected. Ignoring the dull ache in her ankle, she carried on until the door opened, jolting her out of her marking marathon.

"Ah, Professeur Granger," came an exquisitely feminine voice from behind her.

Hermione barely contained a groan. "How may I help you, Professor Dujardin?"

"Oh, I know vee 'aven't really talked before this. But please call me Chérie."

"Okay. Chérie."

"I can call you 'ermione?"

Hermione nodded before finally looking up at the woman. "So, how may I help you?"

Chérie Dujardin smiled. A big, warm smile. Hermione felt herself almost becoming affected by it. "I 'eard all about it. The student who tried to kill you."

That was quite an exaggeration. "I think he only meant to show his displeasure and not actually kill me."

Chérie waved her arm in a dismissive manner. "Nonsense. As long as zere is an intention to 'arm, it is effectively an intention to kill."

Hermione didn't respond.

"I don't think 'ee will try again."

"No, he won't unless he doesn't wish to graduate in one piece." Hermione smiled, thinking of Snape's threats.

"You are lucky, 'ermione. Se-veh-roos is protecting you."

Se-veh-roos? Hermione was puzzled for a split second. "You mean Professor Snape?"

Chérie nodded. "Oh, yes. Vee all 'eard about the boy's punishment." Then she checked her watch. "Would you like some tea now? At 'ogsmeade?"

-.-.-.-

Half an hour later, Hermione found herself seated in a cosy little booth with Chérie Dujardin in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop. The place was a little too pink for her liking but it definitely didn't have all the extra frills that came with Valentine's Day (which Harry had complained about). And there were no couples in sight (unlike what Harry had griped about). And the place didn't seem congested (like how Harry had described). In fact, Hermione had never stepped foot into the place before today.

She could see why it would be popular with couples. The booths afforded some privacy from the diners, but not too much. There was a certain cutesy charm to the shop which she supposed was appealing for some teenage girls.

"It is a cute little place," Chérie was saying. "I am fond of these things. And you, 'ermione?"

"Not much, no."

Chérie gave a delicate laugh. "I'm sorry for that. I adore the cake 'ere."

As if on cue, Madam Puddifoot set down a pot of Oolong tea, two porcelain teacups and a slice of Madeira cake in front of them. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," cooed Chérie as she picked up a fork. "Would you like to try?"

Hermione shook her head. "It'd be wasted on me."

"In France, we 'ave similar cafés," continued Chérie. "And the one zat I like the most …"

Hermione tuned out to what Chérie was talking about. She hadn't really wanted to come out to Hogsmeade especially with her injured ankle. But she also knew that she hadn't had much of a chance to really get to know the woman since the start of the academic year. It had been almost two weeks since the 1st of September and even Snape seemed to have made more progress in becoming acquainted with Chérie Dujardin.

"… and Se-veh-roos likes the cake 'ere," Chérie babbled on. "You should try."

Hermione snapped to attention. "Snape came here? To Madam Puddifoot's?"

"Yes, yes," replied Chérie. "Maybe two times? Three times?"

"With who?"

"Me."

"You?"

Chérie blinked. "Yes. Me. I am the one 'oo likes the cake 'ere."

"But why Madam Puddifoot's? There's the Hog's Head Inn—"

"Bah, the dirty mugs."

"—or the Three Broomsticks—"

"Too much l'alcool."

"—or Brews and Stews—"

"Yuck." Chérie shuddered.

"—or Ollivander's?" Hermione suggested hopefully.

"Zat is for buying wands." Chérie looked confused for a split second. "I 'ave my wand."

Hermione gulped. Snape at Madam Puddifoot's. The teashop for happy couples. Who sat in booths and stared into each other's eyes. And snogged. According to Harry and his date with Cho Chang back in the day. Snape. Here. Licking the icing off tasty cake. In a cosy booth. With Chérie and her puppy-dog eyes. And snogging, maybe. Did Snape ever snog anyone?

Before Hermione could ask herself why she would even think about Snape snogging anyone, Chérie rattled on about herself.

"I am so grateful to teach Muggle Studies 'ere. I am half-blood, actually," she said. "But my step-parents are muggles. So I know very well 'ow muggles live."

"That makes sense," murmured Hermione, sipping her tea. "You studied at Beauxbaton, didn't you?"

Chérie nodded. "I visited 'ogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament. So many years ago."

"You mean in 1994?"

"Yes. Even then and now, the people are so warm. But the place is a bit cold." She laughed. "I remember you, 'ermione. You and Viktor Krum, beautiful couple."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But I don't recall seeing you."

"I was an assistant professeur in 1994. You won't remember."

"I don't recall seeing any professors," replied Hermione, furrowing her brows. "Just Madame Maxine."

"It is no matter. I am so glad to work with you now," gushed Chérie. "What is your age, 'ermione? I am thirty-two."

"Twenty-six this year."

"So young," commented Chérie. "And pretty."

Hermione's cheeks reddened and she felt self-conscious of her bushy hair. It was still something that made her conscious till today even though she had managed to somewhat tame it more than she was able to as a student. "Oh, please, Chérie. I am nothing compared to you."

Indeed, Chérie possessed a unique beauty that reminded Hermione very much of Fleur Delacour except that Chérie did not look as if she was gliding when she walked. And she did not glow. However, what much of her silvery hair that was exposed from under a beret shimmered in the sunlight filtering through the windows and her large eyes were a never-ending pool of green with speckles of brown and blue. She was neither very tall nor very short. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if somewhere in Chérie's half-bloodedness, there was some Veela heritage.

"Nonsense. I 'eard about your role in the war. You are a good fighter, 'ermione."

"Only when I need to. I really don't like to fight."

"In France, there was no war or anything. I guess it could be zat no one in France interested Voldemort."

"Seems that way." Hermione wondered where the conversation was heading.

"You must be really powerful. Zat's why you are the professeur for Defence."

"I think my grades had more to do with that than anything else."

"No, no. Even in Beauxbaton the professeurs are very skilled," Chérie paused. "Vee 'ave no security guard at 'ogwarts, non?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "True."

"Then if vee look at the adults, there are only the professeurs, the 'eadmistress, 'agrid and Feelsh."

"You mean, Filch?"

"Yes, Feelsh. The protectors are the professeurs."

Hermione hadn't considered that line of thought before. "That makes sense."

"What did you do before 'ogwarts?"

Hermione paused. It was the one question she always dreaded answering. "I was an auror for a while but I left." That was a fact, but not quite the full story.

"Impressive. But why did you leave? Did you not like catching bad people like the Muggle police?"

Hermione had to laugh at that. "It was good. But there were too many rules. Too many protocols to follow."

"I see." Chérie polished off the last bit of cake and finished her tea. "Shall we 'ead back to the castle?"

The two ladies made their way back slowly, more for Hermione's sake since she didn't want to put too much pressure on her right leg. Chérie continued chatting animatedly, this time about her Muggle Studies classes. Hermione was half-listening and made appropriate sounds and comments when she thought it was necessary for her to do so.

As they stopped in front of the staffroom, Chérie smiled warmly again. "It was lovely getting to know you. Maybe next time you can tell me more about when you were in the French Alps."

She walked off, leaving Hermione in a momentary daze. How had Chérie known about the French Alps saga? Hermione hadn't told anyone. Not even Harry and definitely not Ron. The only one who had known about it was someone she hadn't told but had found her there. And it was thanks to him she was now teaching at Hogwarts.

She pushed the door to the staff room open and found herself face-to-face with none other than the very person she had been thinking about. There was no one else inside so she pushed him into the room and shut the door behind them.

"Did you tell Dujardin about … about what happened in the French Alps?"

Snape's eyes locked onto hers. "Chérie? No."

Hermione didn't miss the use of the woman's first name. "Since when is she 'Chérie' to you?"

"That's how she wishes to be addressed."

"And why am I 'Granger'?"

"You have always been 'Granger' to me. First as Miss Granger and now Professor Granger."

Hermione waved her hand in frustration. "Back to the French Alps. Did you show her what happened?"

"What do you take me for, Granger? Do you think I have nothing else better to do than to talk about you?" Snape sneered.

"Why not? For all I know, you could be lying to my face but snogging her senseless behind my back!"

The laughter died on his face and colour rose in his pale cheeks. "Excuse me?"

"Been going on dates with her to Madam Puddifoot's, haven't you?" Hermione continued furiously. "She told me just as much."

Snape's eyes flashed. "Watch your words, Granger. Just because you and I are colleagues now it doesn't mean you get to be careless with your accusations."

"Still defending her, are you?"

"I did not share anything with anyone, Granger," he snapped. Then he sidestepped her and yanked the staffroom door open, his cloak billowing behind. "And whoever I wish to snog senseless is none of your concern." The door slammed shut as he marched off.

Hermione gulped. He didn't even affirm or deny whether he had been snogging Chérie. Not that it mattered to her, she thought. She ambled to her desk and slumped into the chair. After letting out a big sigh, she prepared to continue marking the papers but spotted a small vial and a note under it. For your ankle, it said in a familiar scrawl. A pang of guilt hit her as she turned to the staffroom door. Snape had bothered to bring the healing potion to her but all she had done was to shoot her mouth off at him. She cradled her head in her hands. Why on earth did she go off like that?

The argument had left a bitter taste in her mouth so Hermione decided to hole herself up in her rooms and didn't go down for dinner. When she had finished her marking, she summoned a tray of food for herself and replayed her conversation with Chérie Dujardin, and her argument with Snape over and over again.

After dinner, she retrieved a small pensieve from a well-locked and warded cabinet. She hesitated for a moment as she watched the pearly white liquid swirling around. Maybe not tonight, she thought and kept it back in the cabinet. Tonight she would try to get some rest before tomorrow's big day out.