Hello, my dears.
Short chapter, especially after last week's. Sorry- there was no good way to split it up and I didn't have the time to write an extra scene. But to make up for that, I'll be updating To Love and All it Entails very, very soon.
Many thanks for all the reviews. I really adore this particular section of the fandom- you all have such good things to say, so insightful!
AND BY THE WAY HOLY COW MORE HARRY POTTER MOVIES.
Enjoy the chapter.
Chapter 14
The students filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom cautiously- as was habit on the first day by now. They didn't yet know if this teacher would be like Lupin or- perhaps- like Snape. Therefore, it was best to approach the first day and first interactions carefully. Umbridge was an unknown quantity, and no one wished to risk her wrath before they knew how strict a disciplinarian she was.
Umbridge was seated at her desk, watching them with beady eyes as they found seats. The snooty girly-girl in Hermione shuddered at the horrendous fluffy pink cardigan, and black velvet bow the professor was wearing. The way the bow was perched and gleaming dully in the light from the wall scones made Hermione rather uncomfortably aware of Umbridge's unfortunate resemblance to a toad with a large fly on its head.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said in a sickly sweet voice, clapping her hands together.
How old does she think we are? Five? The few scattered replies made Umbridge's little smile falter.
"Tut, tut. That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
Exchanging a few wondering glances, the class immediately chanted, "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge."
The awful smile returned. "There, now," she said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please." If anything, she's polite, Hermione thought sarcastically, slipping her wand back into her holster. She had a bad feeling about this.
Umbridge's own wand had produced the words, "Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles," on the blackboard. She cleared her throat once, then began to speak. "Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year."
The woman smirked maliciously, hands clasped in front of her. She continued speaking, but Hermione set a portion of her mind to record and analyze the speech while she considered her options. Damn it. This is why I wanted to rest and prepare before encountering Madam Toad.
"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," the class chorused, having learned from their mistake. Hermione frowned down at her book- it was dreadfully dull, and managed to say absolutely nothing in several long, verbose chapters. Severus had immediately dismissed it as complete drivel.
Now's the time to show a little bit of disobedience. Start the ball rolling, so to speak. I can call her out on the book. And I've just noticed something not so surprising about her 'course aims.'
Hermione stared down at her book, took a breath, then raised her hand. She kept her face composed, not angry or upset, but calm.
Umbridge had seen her- their eyes met in an instant, too fast for Hermione to delve into her mind before she turned away, looking resolutely in another direction.
Bitch, Hermione remarked calmly in her mind. Now it's personal. Unless I want to be ignored, I really don't like being ignored.
Hermione was proud of her fitness- she kept up her exercise routine religiously during school year and summer alike- but even her arm began to ache by the time Harry looked up and met her eyes. She shook her head at his questioning look, continuing to stare at Umbridge.
One by one, her classmates were leaving their boring chapter for her far more interesting struggle with Umbridge. Hermione could feel their eyes on her, something that made her almost as uncomfortable as Severus' gaze had been the night before. It was a testament to how boring the book was that a girl sitting silently with her hand up was more interesting- although the fact that the girl was Hermione Granger may have had something to do with it.
The fifth year students of Hogwarts (save her close friends) had never seen Hermione Granger rebel against any teacher. Now she was acting in mute defiance, book closed on her desk. Umbridge was playing right into Hermione's hands- by refusing to acknowledge the Gryffindor, Umbridge was publicly losing the support of Hermione Granger, swot and teacher's pet extraordinaire.
Hermione Granger was liked by teachers, and Hermione Granger liked teachers. Hermione Granger was not liked by Umbridge, and Hermione Granger did not like Umbridge. Therefore, Umbridge was not a teacher. It was simple, base logic that the students probably didn't even know they were performing subconsciously.
When more than half the class was more focused on Hermione than on the textbook, Professor Umbridge seemed to realize that she could stall no longer. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" the woman asked with a little start of surprise, as if she had just noticed Hermione.
"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.
Umbridge's expression faltered in its sweetness for an instant. "Well, we're reading just now," she said, smiling pointedly at Hermione. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione said clearly, tossing back her heavy mane of curls, eyeing Umbridge with just a hint of defiance.
This surprised the teacher- she raised pallid little eyebrows in a moue of surprise. "And your name is…"
Hermione grinned sharply. "Hermione Granger," she drawled, a twitch of her lips acknowledging the recognition that spread across Umbridge's face before the Ministry witch clamped down on it. That's right. I'm the girl who spat at Voldemort and quite basically told him to take his scaly arse to hell.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Professor Umbridge said sweetly. Hermione could have almost imagined the emphasis on her name. There were a few titters in the rest of the class- Hermione not reading something carefully? Preposterous. Again, this lapse of judgment brought Umbridge down another notch in the collective subconscious.
Time for bluntness. "Well, I don't. There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells." There was a moment of silence as the class turned to check the class aims on the board.
Course aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
Umbridge giggled nervously. "Using defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron half-shouted, outrage in his voice.
Umbridge turned her beady little eyes on him. "Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—" she snapped.
"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand in the air.
With a smirk, Umbridge turned her back on him. Immediately, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and raised their own hands simultaneously. She couldn't ignore all of them- the whole class was monitoring the situation carefully.
Although her pouchy eyes lingered a second too long on Harry, Umbridge addressed Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
Hermione smiled primly. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?" She knew that there was an authoritative ring to her voice, and that it would make Umbridge bristle.
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" she asked in her false-sweet voice, obviously trying to sound harmless, dangerous, and in control at the same time. It didn't work.
"No," Hermione replied coolly.
"Well then, I'm afraid you're not qualified to decided what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-"
"What's the use in that?" Harry interrupted loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it's not going to be in a secure-"
"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge. Harry scowled and thrust his hand in the air again, face darkening when Umbridge turned away yet again. This time, however, plenty of other students had their hands in the air.
Umbridge smiled at them, an expression Hermione was realizing was a tell for when the woman was mad or upset. She grinned herself- Umbridge was getting easier and easier to read. "And your name is?" Umbridge asked Dean.
"Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr. Thomas?"
Dean bristled slightly. "Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free-"
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, her smile growing wider and more irritating, "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" Dean tried to say something, but she spoke over him. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed- not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"If you mean Professor Lupin," Dean piped up angrily, "He was the best we ever-"
"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying- you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate for your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day-"
"No we haven't," Hermione interrupted, pitching her voice so that it carried over Umbridge's. "We just-"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Hermione put her hand up, and Umbridge turned away again. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you-"
Dean spoke again. "Well, he turned out to be a maniac didn't he? Mind you, we still learned loads from him-"
Umbridge seemed closer and closer to snapping. Hermione was feeling just the slightest bit wary of pushing her farther. Her suspicions were confirmed when Umbridge trilled, "Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas " very loudly.
She was breathing heavily, but continued to talk. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about." That made Hermione angry- school was about more than getting an O on every test. It was about learning what you needed to learn for the future.
"And your name is?" Umbridge asked, sweet again, as Parvati's hand shot up. Her nose, however, crinkled in disdain that Hermione read and interpreted (quite correctly) as Umbridge's distaste for the color of Parvati's skin. That made Hermione's blood boil- the girl could be silly sometimes, but Hermione had shared a dorm with her for five years and Parvati Patil was one of the nicest girls Hermione had ever met.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Art's O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter curses and things?" Hermione smiled tightly as Parvati asked the same question she had wanted to raise.
Umbridge shook her head dismissively. "As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."
"Without practicing them before?" asked Parvati incredulously. Although it was her sister and not herself who was in Ravenclaw, Parvati shared some characteristics with her more studious and less bold twin. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam? Under all that stress and pressure?"
Umbridge sneered slightly. "I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" asked Harry loudly, his fist in the air again. Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Harry's face was flushed, and the line of his neck and shoulders tight. He was angry, and ready to explode.
Professor Umbridge regarded him coolly. "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?" Harry asked, a desperate tone to his voice.
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter," Umbridge repeated, in the same calm voice.
Harry glared. "Oh yeah?" he said disrespectfully. Hermione winced- his temper, which had been boiling all day, had reached boiling point.
Umbridge narrowed her eyes, and showed her pointy teeth again. She was setting something up, Hermione could tell. "Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired the professor in a horribly honeyed voice.
Hermione jumped in, cutting a glance at Harry. "I'd say the obvious one, Professor Umbridge. Lord Voldemort." There was hardly a hitch in her voice- but the rest of the class room reacted violently. Ron gasped, Lavender Brown gave a pathetic, whimpering scream. Neville slipped sideways off his stool, falling to the ground with a thud.
Professor Umbridge did not flinch, staring at Hermione with a satisfied expression on her face. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."
The classroom was silent, but loud with shock. Hermione Granger losing points in class? Unheard of. Everyone was staring at either Hermione or Umbridge.
The awful witch smiled grimly. "Now let me make a few things quite plain," she stated, leaning toward them across the desk, spreading her stubby fingers across the worn wood. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-"
"He wasn't dead," Harry interjected angrily. "But yeah, he's returned!"
"Mr. Potter, ten points from Gryffindor. Your housemate has already lost your house ten points do not make matters worse," Umbridge said in one breath, not looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large again. This is a lie."
"It is NOT a lie!" Harry shouted. "I saw him, I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr. Potter!" cried Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening, five o'clock, my office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now-"
"And now you've just given us the largest pile of dragon shite I've ever heard in this classroom," Hermione said insolently. "And in our second year, we had Gilderoy Lockhart as a teacher."
Now gasps echoed around the classroom. Hermione stood calmly, look Umbridge right in the eye. "Now, if Voldemort- oh, stop it it's just a name- isn't alive and kicking, who was at the Graveyard with Harry and me? Who tortured me until I could hardly move? Who cursed me as we were escaping and kept me in the Hospital Wing for days?"
Thirty eagerly listening faces were turned up at Hermione, craving gossip about what had happened in the graveyard. "Would you like to see my scars, Professor?" Hermione asked dangerously. "Lord Voldemort is back and you know it."
"Detention for you as well, Miss Granger," Umbridge hissed. "Same time as Mr. Potter. Both you, come up to my desk."
Hermione slid out from behind her desk with the grace of a cat, whilst Harry kicked his chair aside with a loud noise, skirting around Ron with an angry stride. Their eyes met, and he took a shuddering breath.
Umbridge had taken out a small roll of pink parchment, writing something on it and tapping it closed with her unusually short wand. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," she simpered, the light of victory cold in her eyes.
Hermione took it from her without a word, turning on her heel and gliding out of the classroom, barely noticing when Harry slammed the door behind them.
With his longer legs, he quickly caught up with her. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, genuine worry in his eyes. "I-"
Hermione shook her head. "The Wizarding World needs to know what happened that night," she said quietly, fiercely. "Professor Umbridge is the symbol of the Ministry and all its lying propaganda at Hogwarts. We oppose her, we oppose them and their stubborn refusal to see the truth."
"But you've got detention…" Harry said, a bit confused. "Why are you not freaking out?"
Oh, Harry. You are so, so clueless.
"There are things more important than detentions," Hermione told him, laying a hand on his arm. "Harry, I would suffer through a thousand detentions with Professor Snape if it meant knowing people realize that Voldemort is back." Although it wouldn't exactly be suffering…
Harry's eyes were burning as he looked into hers. "I hate her already," he whispered.
"I do too," Hermione whispered back. "Now. Come one. We need to get this to Professor McGonagall."
Harry and Hermione were sitting, trying very hard not to squirm under the hard gaze of Professor McGonagall. Hermione had half-feared that she would erupt with her infamous temper; rather, the Scottish witch had tersely offered them biscuits.
"Potter, Granger. I expected better out of both of you." The part of Hermione that always craved the approval of adults cringed. Hermione kept her face straight, munching on a ginger newt.
McGonagall continued to lecture, but Hermione zoned out- she was more focused on analyzing what had happened in Umbridge's class.
She- and Harry- had done plenty of good in discrediting Professor Dolores Umbridge as a teacher. With the help of Dean and Parvati, they had ripped apart her phony course aims, and the proceeded to demonstrate how unlike any other teacher she was.
Hermione was satisfied- and wonder what Severus would think.
"Miss Granger, are you paying any attention to me at all?" Professor McGonagall snapped.
Hermione blinked and sat straighter. "Of course, Professor," she said innocently. "You just told us that this isn't about truth or lies, it's about keeping our mouths shut and our tempers under control." Her eyes met McGonagall's and hardened.
The Transfiguration professor sighed. "Quite right, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter, please go wait outside. I need to talk to Miss Granger alone."
With a questioning glance, Harry stood and left the room. As soon as he was gone Hermione sagged a bit in her chair, rubbing her eyes with one hand. After a moment's hesitation, she dropped her Glamour. It was time to regain a bit of authority with McGonagall.
When Hermione uncovered her face, McGonagall's quick intake of breath was audible. "You look like you've just aged two years in front of me," she remarked wryly. "How are you holding up, Hermione?"
Hermione gave a grim smile. "Alright. Professor Umbridge is a pain in the neck. But Severus and I have a plan for taking care of her."
Professor McGonagall frowned. "Take care of her?" she asked questioningly. She had "accidentally" seen Hermione practicing with her knives at Safe House Three over the summer. It hadn't been an accident at all- Hermione and Severus wanted to make sure that McGonagall realized that Hermione was capable of protecting Harry, and therefore trust her decisions.
"Nothing on that level yet," said Hermione, allowing a slightly cruel smile to spread across her face as she nodded at her professor. "Actually, as irritating as she is now and is going to get, she's useful."
"How so?" McGonagall asked. It struck Hermione in that moment how old Professor McGonagall was. Her skin was frail and papery, wrinkles almost as deep as Dumbledore's. Witches aged well- Professor McGonagall was probably in her nineties and nearing her hundreds. Dumbledore was one hundred and fourteen years old- they had been leading the side of Light for a long time.
Hermione cleared her throat. "We set her up as a figurehead for opposition. If we start an 'underground' movement and rebellion against Umbridge, we can set up a base of allies for Harry. An idea I was playing around with was having him lead a Defense club- but with Umbridge, I doubt we could get official permission. But again, we make it clandestine and forge bonds of loyalty through secrecy. The more Harry- and I- oppose Umbridge, the closer we get to creating a pool of students who believe Harry and know real defensive spells." Her nose wrinkled. "I don't suppose Dumbledore told you our plan?"
"No, he didn't," McGonagall said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "The old goat. It sounds like a brilliant, if somewhat dangerous plan, Hermione. What can I do to help?"
Hermione leaned back in her chair and considered the question for a moment. "I wanted to get the teachers involved, but I figured it would happen on its own eventually. When things get worse- and a contact at the Ministry is promising things will get worse soon- do your best to subtly encourage the students in their rebellion."
"I'll do what I can," McGonagall promised. "Now I believe you have dinner to get to."
Hermione rose, and reapplied the Glamour. "I'm going to do my best to keep Harry calm," she reassured McGonagall. "Because if he gets too angry he will either lose his head, or try something I'm not sure I can stop. Thanks for the biscuits."
Dinner was slightly tense, Harry, Hermione, and Ron eating together at the far end of the table and ignoring those around them who were either gossiping about class or trying to listen in on the conversation. The trio ate quickly and hurried back to the Common Room.
There Fred and George were testing their products on the first years again- with a huff of frustration Hermione stalked over and ended it, managing to sneak a few Fainting Fancies into her sleeve when she took the bag from George. After threatening to owl their mother, she stomped back to Ron and Harry. It wasn't long before she declared herself unable to concentrate and ascended the stairs to the Girls' Dormitory.
Usually, Hermione would spin back to the morning and go straight to bed. But tonight, Hermione wanted to talk to Severus before turning back. She waited until she could see a shimmer leaning against the wall near Harry and Ron, then excused herself to go to bed.
Lavender and Parvati were in the room, talking. When Hermione entered, they looked up.
"Hermione?" Lavender's soft high voice was hesitant and shaky. "I'm sorry about this morning. Really. I- I wasn't thinking."
Hermione sat down on her bed, and leaned over, covering her eyes with her hands as if she was holding back tears. Immediately, Lavender and Parvati were next her.
"I'm sorry was I snappy this morning," Hermione apologized. "It's- just-" she heaved a sigh of frustration, and looked Lavender right in the other girl's big blue eyes. "You don't know how terrifying it is to know that Lord- that monster is back and no one is doing anything about it," said Hermione fiercely. "I looked into his eyes, I saw how evil he was. He would have killed me in an instant if Harry hadn't stepped in."
She turned her head to look at Parvati. "Professor Umbridge is trying to hold back the truth. The Ministry is trying to discredit Harry. Everything is going wrong."
"We believe you, Hermione," Parvati said, squeezing Hermione's hand. "I'm going to write to my family. Tell them to watch out."
"Me too," Lavender promised. "Although I don't think my mum will believe me."
Hermione smiled weakly. "Thank you," she whispered. "Goodnight." She debated dressing for bed in a way that would let them see her scar, but decided against it. It would happen eventually with the close quarters the three girls shared.
It was almost midnight when Parvati's breathing evened out and Lavender started snoring. Finally. Hermione slipped her robe over her pajamas and cast a Disillusionment charm. She crept from the room, easing the door shut to avoid waking up Lavender or Parvati. Even if they did wake, the Hermione shaped illusion under the covers would fool them.
The Fat Lady painting swung outward, then back, but she was used to Hermione's comings and goings and it only took a whispered "Hello," to calm her. Then Hermione was on her way to the dungeons.
A sliver of yellow light was spilling from Severus' office when she arrived. Hermione knocked twice on the door, then opened it and ducked it.
From his desk, Severus inclined his head. "Good evening," he said as a quiet greeting. His eyes were solemn in his pale face, regarding her with their usual intensity. "What took so long?"
Hermione canceled the charm and her Glamour, shaking out her hair. "I got caught by Parvati and Lavender and had to sit through their apologies. What have you heard so far?" She cocked her head, and frowned. "It might be best if we do this elsewhere."
Severus nodded, rising in one fluid motion. "I agree. Would you like some tea?"
"I would love some," Hermione said, giving him a genuine smile. "I'm feeling dangerously sleepy."
The Potions Master strode the back of the room, pressing his palm to the stone and whispering the password. He gestured that she go first, and with a vague shiver of something running down her spine, Hermione entered the set of false chambers.
The Potions cabinet was the same, Severus holding open the door and waving her through. Hermione wondered for a moment if something was going on, but his eyes were as dark and emotionless as ever, so she dismissed it. Foolish daydreams of a foolish girl.
She settled into the same armchair she had used the time before, gratefully accepting the warm mug of tea when Severus offered it. He sat across from her, long fingers wrapped around his own mug. There were no dainty teacups for Severus Snape- instead, he used sturdy mugs that could hold a decent amount of liquid.
"So…" Hermione drawled. "I misbehaved today." She smirked at Severus, who had stiffened for some reason. "Gave the Gryffindors a surprise, that's for sure."
Severus coughed and took a sip of tea. "According to the staff room gossip, both you and Potter put on quite a show for the class." There was a dryness to his voice. His long fingers tapped out a slow rhythm on the arm of his chair.
Hermione smiled slowly, teeth glinting dangerously in the light from the fireplace. "It was lovely," she drawled. "We riled her up quite a bit. As a result, Harry and I have detention tomorrow."
"I can surmise that the first step of our plan is coming to its middle?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. "We didn't spend enough time outlining this last night. I suggest we do so now."
Against her will, Hermione's mouth stretched in a yawn. "Sure," she said, blinking a few times. "Let's get some parchment and a quill." Severus rose to fetch the required items, and Hermione moved to the sofa, patting the seat next to her when he returned. "We need to be able to see what the other's doing," she said by way of explanation.
He sighed, and set the materials down. "I'm writing," he said sternly. "You'd take all night organizing everything." He sat next to her, and started fiddling with the parchment and ink, getting comfortable.
Of course it has nothing to do with the way he looks right now, shrugging off his teaching robes, or the fact that he's going to be close enough to smell and to feel the warmth of his skin. His arms look so strong- I knew that, he can lift me- but with is sleeves rolled up- no. It has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing at all.
Hermione ran her fingers over her scalp, pulling her masses of curls into a semblance of a bun to keep it out of her face. "Today I started with the tantalization. I mentioned what happened in the graveyard."
Severus nodded sharply. "Good. The fact that it was you should be all over the school by breakfast tomorrow." He wrote it in his spiky hand on the page. Drop hints about what happened at the graveyard.
"I heard from one of my contacts at the Ministry that Dolores Umbridge will be made Hogwarts High Inquisitor in a few weeks," Severus said gravely. "She will be given power that would be ludicrous normally. Making school decrees, firing teachers…"
Hermione took a minute to think about it. "As much as I hate to say it… this might be beneficial to our cause. If she makes several awful rules, it will turn the students against her that quicker. When do you think would be a good time to start our clandestine defense group?"
"Soon," Severus said, a hand rising unconsciously to pinch the bridge of his nose. "How long do you think it will take to convince Potter?"
Well, Harry will need a trigger, but if I plant the information in his head now it will have time for him to consider it… "A month. Maybe two," Hermione admitted. "Sooner if something happens. I should mention it to him soon, give him time to think it over."
Severus made note of it on their paper. "What else?"
"How far do you think the teachers will go to oppose Umbridge?" asked Hermione. "I gave McGonagall a brief description of what we were doing, and she promised to subtly help."
It was clear that Severus was surprised. "And how did she take that?"
"Well enough," Hermione said with a shrug, then paused, turning to look at Severus. "Do you- I played her. And I did it well. I-" she stopped, unable to verbalize how she felt. She gazed at Severus pleadingly. "Do you get what I'm trying to say?"
The warmth that suddenly suffused his eyes made a little something twinge, a little flutter under her ribs. "Yes, Hermione," he said, a kind of gentleness in his tone. "You feel guilty for manipulating someone."
"It's silly, isn't it?" Hermione said, looking away. For some reason, whenever he could see right through her, she felt ashamed. "It's what I've been preparing to do for the past few years. I did the same to Lavender and Parvati earlier and- it feels wrong."
She could feel a tingling in her shoulder, and a second later a hesitant hand rested there. "It's not silly, Hermione. It is completely natural to harbor feelings of guilt after manipulating people you respect or genuinely like. If you didn't, I'd be worried that you would turn out like Dumbledore and take steps to remove you from positions of power. No one did that for him and look at the old goat now."
His voice sounded divine, like the rich savory sweet of honey in the back of the throat. "Does he feel any guilt?" she asked.
"He used to," Severus said bluntly. "Now… he's gotten used to it. It still pains him when Order members die, but he no longer bends under the weight of their death and suffering. He's removed himself from them. He rationalizes it away. He has to- he has no choice."
Hermione looked at him, his mostly impassive face with caring eyes. The dearness of his face to her heart made her stomach clench in warning. "Then what do I do? Become like him?"
"No," Severus said harshly. "In the moment you continue without pause. But later, in a safe place, in a safe time, you feel regret and guilt."
Their eyes met. It is so easy for me to lose myself in his eyes, Hermione thought. It feels as if there is a shield around us, that we are the only two left on this earth. "Do you feel regret and guilt?" she asked, voice unintentionally dropping lower in pitch.
She didn't know that her own eyes were just as mesmerizing to him, or that his breath hitched in his throat as his pulse rose.
His eyes darkened. "Yes," he answered, unconsciously echoing her tone, voice dropping huskily. There was a flash of understanding in that moment, and Hermione could almost sense all the pain Severus had ever felt, all the sorrow and regret and gut-wrenching guilt.
All she wanted to do was take his head and cradle it against her chest, to hold him, to run her hands through his hair again-
And his hand left her shoulder and he turned away, back to the paper. "Potter will need to lead the group, but you will need assist him in the background," he said, tone normal again.
"Right," Hermione said, brutally shoving all emotion down. In a safe time, in a safe place, she reminded herself. Not here.
As the door closed behind Hermione, Severus frowned at the empty room. He should have felt relief that she was gone- no more curls to distract his attention, no more liquid brown eyes pulling candid confessions, no more pale skin alive with the rouges of firelight. And yet, he felt disappointed.
It had been entirely disconcerting, the feeling that occupied him when she was around. Not that it hadn't been there before- but then he hadn't recognized it for what it was. Now he knew that the surge of awe at her wit and the appreciation of her form were full of less-than-pure intent.
He glanced down at the abandoned plan, left on the coffee table. It was full of his spiky handwriting and her flowing script. About halfway through she had looked at him, sighed, and snatched the paper away, shoving at lines with the tip of her wand to reorganize it.
Even her bossiness is endearing, he thought. Dear lord. Dumbledore would have my job and my head. If the Dark Lord knew that that I l- cared for a muggleborn chit of eighteen then he would make an example of us both.
He sank back down on the sofa they had shared, instead of his favorite armchair, draping the part of his legs that were too long for the sofa over the arm rather than enlarging it. He could smell the soap she used, much fainter than when she had been there. He wondered what she would smell like if she used his shampoo. His soap. He felt a strange longing to know what it would be like to have her marked as his so subtly.
Roughly Severus dragged a hand over his face, rising in a frustrated motion. It was close to one in the morning- it was time to sleep.
And so ends Chapter 14.
I know, I know. Short. But tell me what else you thought about it.
Life has been slowing down a bit- but- good news!- I got National Merit Scholar Semi-Finalist. Although that means another set of applications, I'm super excited. School has been driving me nuts, work is challenging, and WELCOME TO NIGHTVALE IS AWESOME go check it out.
I'll be updating, and probably finishing, my other SS/HG story very soon. Go read it! It is very different from this one.
Also... the extract before I forget.
"Did you have a good nap, Hermione?" Severus drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her.
Predictably, she scowled at him. "No. Your couch is rubbish."
"Liar," he said, still smirking. "Or else you wouldn't have fallen asleep."
She looked like an angry kitten when she was scowling- he could almost forget she was dangerous. "I did come here for a reason, you know. I don't just break into your rooms for fun."
He actually chuckled. "You didn't break into my rooms, you have a password," he retorted. "What did you come about?
And that's all for this week. Next chapter will be on October 4th!