Hello, my lovelies.
It has been a crazy stressful two weeks. COLLEGE APPLICATIONS. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Stress. Plus school and work. I'm dead. I haven't written since last week.
So here is Chapter Seventeen because I love you all and even though it is... 9:23 on a Thursday night and a I have a French quiz and history test tomorrow, I am editing this chapter.
A disclaimer since I normally forget: The characters are JKR's, I just put them in different situations.
Enjoy!
Chapter 17
Hermione pressed her palm to the secret stone that hid the entrance to Severus' chambers, whispering her password to gain entrance. She had her special key on a chain around her neck, the same one that held her Time Turner. She locked and unlocked the potion cabinet three times, then entered the real chambers.
The warm smell of Severus' own tea blend greeted her, and Hermione breathed in deeply. "Severus?" she called out. "I'm here."
"I'm making something," Severus called back. "I'm sure you can amuse yourself for ten minutes." She snorted, then grabbed a book from his bookshelf, poured herself some tea, and got comfortable.
It turned out to be more like half an hour than ten minutes, and when Severus finally emerged from his lab he was decidedly disgruntled.
"What went wrong?" Hermione asked sympathetically, pouring Severus a cup of tea and handing it to him. She winced, internally. It was her instinct to be mothering and understanding- it was one of the reasons Harry's and Ron had a habit of coming to her with their troubles. She normally didn't judge and she was kind and was a good listener. However much that behavior endeared her to her friends, she doubted it was something Severus would appreciate.
But to her surprise, the Potion Master didn't snap at her. Instead he collapsed into a chair, carefully balancing the mug of tea, and scowled at thin air. "I'm working on a new potion, and it isn't going well."
Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "New potion? How new? What is it?"
"Calm yourself, Hermione," he huffed, sending her a look. "One day someone will slit your throat just to make you stop asking questions."
She laughed. "You like my questions," she told him, a small smirk on her own face.
For some reason, his face softened. "I do," he said, so softly she almost didn't hear him. "I working on a potion that will give the drinker enough energy to make it through several sleepless nights without too many bad side effects," he said abruptly. "With the Dark Lord's return to power, I foresee the need to stay awake, alert, and unaddicted."
Hermione frowned, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself. "Unaddicted?" she asked quietly.
Severus did not look at her. "At the end of the last war, I went through a particularly painful detoxification, an experience I have no desire to repeat again, should the Dark Lord fall."
It made her terribly sad to think of a younger Severus alone and in pain at the end of the first war. "Do you want any help?" she asked. "I'm not a Potions Master, but I could help record trials and-"
"I would be grateful for any aid," Severus said, interrupting Hermione. "Your suggestions would be useful. I suspect you might also want to use this, should it work. Using the Time Turner too much can get you in trouble."
Hermione beamed at him, mind already turning over several options. "What have you done already?"
"I'm trying to create a blend of a Pepper-Up Potion, a Wit-Sharpening Potion, and then inversing the effects of both Dreamless Sleep and Draught of Living Death," Severus said, setting down the mug and gesturing excitedly with his hands. "Tell me why."
It was a test, and Hermione knew it. "Pepper-Up for alertness, but also to drive away illness. You get sick more easily if you're tired or stressed, so that should help out the immune system. Wit-Sharpening, again for alertness. However, you'll need to make sure that the combination isn't too powerful, and I'm certain there are ingredients in each that react poorly. Inverse of Dreamless Sleep for the feeling of being rested. Draught of Living Death, the same."
He smiled at her, a genuine smile that showed his crooked teeth. "Excellent. We can discuss it more after you tell me how everything went."
Hermione sank back into her chair, and sighed. "Last night went well enough. I got Harry to promise to think about it, at least. I'll give him some time then prod. As for the Order meeting…" She let her voice trail off.
The majority of the Order of the Phoenix- the Outer Circle- had no idea that Severus Snape was an Order member. They were the Outer Circle, that met perhaps once a month. The Inner Circle was not much smaller than the Outer by much- Dumbledore trusted many people. In addition, many of the members of the Inner Circle were not there because of special talents or being particularly useful or insightful- they were there to garner support. The Weasleys, for instance. Molly and Arthur had no real contributions, but Dumbledore wished to make them feel important, and he felt he could trust them.
The true Inner Circle was really comprised of only a select number- Severus, Kingsley, Moody, and now by default, Hermione.
"How did our dear Order of the Phoenix react to the old goat's announcement?" Severus drawled, a hint of wicked delight in his face.
Hermione made a moue of distaste. "You can probably guess. They made comments on everything from my age, to my gender, to my blood status." There had been yelling, threats of leaving, and plenty of red faces before Dumbledore had risen from his chair, and pronounced his full support of her with the most gravitas Hermione had ever seen him show. Hermione had then nodded to him, and proceeded to make it extremely clear the to Order that this information was to be kept extremely secret from anyone who had not been in that room, especially her classmates. Dumbledore had sworn them to secrecy, and then there had been nothing the Order could do. But the comments still hurt- especially those about how she was inadequate not only because she was a girl, but because she was a Muggleborn.
"Blood status?" demanded Severus, all hilarity gone from his voice. His hand clenched on the arm of his chair. "Don't tell me they were against you protecting Potter because you are a Muggleborn?"
"Are you surprised?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "Of course they did. They may be fighting the Dark Lord because it's the right thing to do, but supporting the Order does not mean centuries of blood prejudice are erased overnight. You know this, Severus."
He frowned at her. "There are times when I wonder why we are even fighting this war in the first place," he muttered. "First there was Grindelwald, now the Dark Lord. There will be someone after him. Blood prejudice will never end in the Wizard World."
"Maybe it will," Hermione said, feeling bleakness bleed through what she knew was naïveté. "We have to hope for something or we'll expire from hopelessness."
In his dark eyes, Hermione could see the same sinking feeling she felt in her own soul. "Times like this make me want to drink," Severus admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Hermione's eyes were drawn to the small table half-hidden in shadows. The light from the fire winked over what looked like crystal flasks of liquor. If she had to guess, she would say oak matured mead for the amber one. The Firewhiskey was easily recognizable, a bottle she saw every Hogsmeade weekend at the Three Broomsticks. A smaller decanter held what might have been rum, and another that she was certain held Benedictine. Most of the decanters were at least half empty.
"Admiring my collection?" Severus drawled, smirking humorlessly when she flushed.
"Do you drink often?" ventured Hermione timidly.
He snorted. "No. It's too dangerous, so you can reserve your sanctimonious judgments, Hermione. I indulge perhaps twice a year."
Some part of her wanted to shrivel and disappear; another was desperate to know more about the enigmatic man who had been occupying her thoughts all too often. "I wouldn't blame you," she told him, feeling the truth behind her own words. "I've never been drunk, but I've wondered before if it would make me forget. And compared to you, what I'd like to forget is child's play."
Severus stared at her for a long moment, long fingers unconsciously stroking the arm of the chair. "Do not belittle your own experiences," he said finally. "There is more to come. Fear is valid, Hermione. Any hate, any pain, any sorrow. You cannot compare what you feel to what someone else feels."
"Why the sudden wisdom?" Hermione asked, a prick of annoyance blooming in her spine. He treats me like a child.
His expression tightened. "If it is unwelcome, then by all means…"
Hermione huffed out a sigh. "No! It's not, I'm sorry. I- I just- I don't know." Confusion and shame prickled at her under the thin layer of dissipating anger.
"I do," Severus said, in a tone Hermione recognized not as a sanctimonious judgment but as something different. "Tell me, Hermione. Who treats you like an adult? Not like a fifteen year old girl, but as a woman of- how old are you now? He frowned at her, trying to remember.
"Eighteen," Hermione answered, thinking for a moment. "Approximately two years of Time Turner use. In February, I'll be nineteen."
Severus nodded. "Who treats you like you are eighteen, Hermione? Like someone in possession of their full magical powers and mind, who can make their own decisions?"
She stared at the fire, thinking. "Some of my professors know, and yet, it hasn't sunk in for them because they see me acting like a child every day in class. My friends don't regard me as one of them, but they don't treat me like an adult either. Dumbledore, possibly, realizes this, but he acts as if he is the only person in Britain with a mind of their own sometimes. Even though my true position has been revealed to the Order, it will be a long while before they can change what they believe." She turned her gaze upon him, upon the eyes that appeared so misleadingly black. "You do, sometimes."
Slowly, Severus inclined his head. "When?"
Hermione was startled and a bit confused by the question, but answered anyway. "When we talk, sometimes. But-" she stopped. She didn't want to offend him, didn't want to risk unleashing his temper.
Severus waved a hand. "Continue," he ordered.
"When we argue, even you pull the 'I am your teacher' card or do something to remind me that you've got twenty years on me," Hermione said suddenly, the words spilling from her tongue. "Severus, even when it is just the two of us I feel that as much as you may respect my opinion or listen to me, ultimately I am a child to every single person I –"
"Stop that," Severus snarled suddenly. "Think back to the last half hour. How many times have you used my given name?"
Her own expression was mulish as she stared back at Severus. "You may let me call you by your first name, but how often do you avoid using mine? I can feel it, how much you want to use 'Miss Granger' sometimes!"
Severus scowled right back at her. "Do you know how many people I call by their first names? Minerva, Albus, you, Lucius, Narcissa, and Bellatrix. I only actually like about three people on that list."
Hermione was genuinely surprised. "Narcissa or Lucius?"
For some reason, the tension defused and Severus smirked. "Lucius. The only Black sister whom I can actually stand is Andromeda Tonks."
Hermione grinned back at him. "I know. I've never seen Bellatrix Lestrange, but Narcissa Malfoy was glaring at me like I was polluting her air the entire Quidditch World Cup."
"Be thankful Bellatrix is still in Azkaban," Severus said, suddenly somber. "She- she is the only person crazy enough to fall in love with the Dark Lord after seeing what he is capable of."
That thought made Hermione want to retch. "She's capable of loving him?"
"Dumbledore says that everyone is capable of loving and being loved," Severus said quietly. "I really have no idea. She may just be obsessed with him. Either way-"
"It's creepy," Hermione finished, wrinkling her nose. "Doesn't she have a husband?"
Severus scoffed. "In the Wizarding World," he said, voice adopting a lecturing tone, "Most purebloods have affairs. As long as it isn't with a brother or sister, no one really cares. There are spells to ensure that only the husband's heir will be born-"
"I know, Severus," interrupted Hermione. "But back to what we were talking about before."
The Potions Master shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Hermione, you are in a difficult position, one that wasn't of your own making."
He regarded her carefully, long fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of his chair. "You are significantly older than your peers, to the point where they aren't really your peers any longer. You've advanced your magical knowledge and your emotional maturity is far greater than even your average eighteen-year-old. Add to that the… quality of your closest friends-" he could sense she was about to protest and held up a hand. "Let me finish. Neither Mr. Potter nor Mr. Weasley have shown any great intelligence or finer qualities. They act like children of eleven or twelve, not like boys who will be men in two years. You cannot derive much intellectual stimulation from them; to you they provide companionship. However, even in that aspect they frequently value their interactions with each other over their interactions with you. Then we approach your tasks, unfairly bestowed upon you by myself and the Headmaster."
Severus was silent for a short time. "You watch over Potter constantly, you track his every movement, you occasionally invade his mind, and you discuss everything you learn with me, a man he hates. That is not the action of a friend. By continually doing this, Hermione, you take advantage of the relationship between yourself and Potter, and exploit it, for his own safety. But because of this, there is heavy guilt on one side of the friendship. You don't have any true friends- not even Nymphadora Tonks. She was a teacher, and friend sometimes, but if I am correct you have drifted apart. Miss Weasley might be clever, but she is young. Mr. Weasley, is, in my opinion, boorish and not overly loyal."
"So what do I have?" Hermione asked bitterly. "Look at this! The only person I actually talk to honestly is my Potions Professor."
"Whom most of the school hates," Severus said, a hint of wry humor in his voice. "And I'm the one who got you in this mess in the first place."
That took Hermione aback. "Wait-" she said, confusion overtaking her. "What do you mean?"
"Dumbledore came up with the idea for a protector for Potter," Severus said warily, a feeling of dread creeping over his flesh. "He told me to select someone. A child."
"And… you picked me?" Hermione asked, eyes growing wide, although he wasn't sure if it was horror or surprise. "I always thought Dumbledore actually…" Her voice trailed off, and she stared into the fire. "Just give me a moment to process."
Severus suddenly wished he did have a tumbler full of something in his hand. She didn't know- or she didn't want to admit it. She'll be furious when she's finished 'processing.' God damn it, Severus, you really do have to ruin everything in your life. You've just taken several minutes to get her to roundaboutly admit that she thinks of you as something that's not-quite-teacher but also not-quite-friend and you were going to offer to change that and you've screwed everything up you bloody fuck. It's Lily all over again. I should never have told her, I should have let her believe it was Dumbledore.
After what felt like an age, she looked directly at him again. "Thank you," she said, voice low and throaty. It sounded like she was holding back tears, and Severus remembered each of the times she had cried in front of him and how her voice had sounded.
"Why are you thanking me?" he said caustically, lashing out in his surprise. "Didn't we just go over several of the reasons why your life is awful, courtesy of me?"
"My life isn't awful," Hermione said firmly, conviction finding its way into her voice. "Severus, if you hadn't chosen me, if you had chosen Ron or Neville, I would be so boring. Ordinary, and quite possibly dead. Or Harry would be dead and we'd all be collectively screwed. I personally feel like you made the right choice. It hasn't been a field full of sunshine and butterflies but maybe it's made me a better person than I would have been otherwise."
"Gryffindor," he muttered. "Always so-"
"I prefer optimistic to naïve," Hermione interrupted, grinning suddenly. "And also: you bloody wanker. Why did you wait so long to tell me? Here I was having conflicting feelings about Dumbledore when I could-" she stopped suddenly.
Severus frowned. "I thought you'd be upset with me," he said, scowling.
"Do you regret it?" she asked.
"Of course I do," Severus said, glaring at her. "I had to look at three innocent children, and then take one of them and- the bastard left all the choice in my hands, to keep his shiny and soft and white. It's his modus operandi."
Hermione shook her head sadly. "Let me be a naïve, optimistic Gryffindor and say that I'm just a little glad that you chose me."
It was obviously not something that had occurred to Severus. "Why?" his tone was scathing, but Hermione was used to it by now.
"Yes, I might not be able to relate to almost anyone and almost no one treats me like I'm in possession of an adult mind, but I also have had opportunities I wouldn't have had if I hadn't agreed to become Harry's protector. And I did agree, Severus. It isn't like you forced me to do it against my will. I'm sure that if I had refused that day in Dumbledore's office, he would have Oblivated me and sent me on my merry way."
Severus nodded. "That is true." He reached over to the table and poured himself more tea.
Hermione shrugged. "I know. But if I hadn't been given all this training, I would have spent my summers with my parents, being ignored and afraid of frightening them by sneezing. I wouldn't have learned much, I would have returned to Hogwarts even more emotionally dependent on Harry and Ron, and I would have freaked out the next year when Harry was selected for the Tournament. You probably wouldn't have known about Moody, and might be dead. And then we're all dead. And Harry might have failed the second or even first task. The series of events that led to the current state of affairs would have changed so much… I'm a stronger person, I'm more independent, and I know that I'm doing my part to help win this war."
They sat in silence for a few moments. "How despicably Gryffindorish of you," Severus said finally.
Hermione giggled- she couldn't help it. "Sorry. For the sake of my tender heart I think I'll continue pretending I have friends."
"Oh, really?" Severus said, widening his eyes comically. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, don't get too attached."
"I'm helpless," Hermione said, laughing again. "Let's see. In no particular order, my friends consist of one of my professors who is an Order member, a Death Eater, and a spy, two goodnatured but often quite ridiculous boys, an old goat who has been masterminding my life for the past five years or so, and a few Aurors and Ministry workers who are twice my age."
Severus shrugged. "That's a few more than I have."
Hermione sipped at her tea, and tilted her head to regard him carefully. "Let's see. You have me, Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Malfoys, um… Flitwick?"
"I suppose," Severus admitted. "So a manipulative old coot, a Scottish terror, Blond and Blonder, and a pint sized dueling master. And a teenaged menace."
Lazily, Hermione flicked her wand and sent a pillow flying at his head. He deflected it just as easily. "You need to work on your-"
"No," Hermione said firmly. "Here- let's say that here in this sitting room when we're enjoying a nice cuppa-"
Severus stared at her. "Hermione that is going to be among some of the most ridiculous things you've proposed."
"I know," Hermione said calmly. "But you'll do it. For my sanity." She smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you, Severus."
"I refuse," Severus said flatly. If she starts pretending I'm not her teacher I'll fall for it, I'll start thinking about her as if I'm not her teacher and that is too dangerous, too dangerous-
Hermione sighed, and leaned into the chair back, closing her eyes. "I'll convince you later. I need to go to bed or I'll fall asleep here."
Secretly relieved that she was going to leave and end the increasingly strange conversation, Severus rose with Hermione and escorted her to the door. "Goodnight," he said, unable to stop a yawn.
She yawned as well, giving him a glare that quite clearly illustrated that her yawn was entirely his fault. "Goodnight."
Severus checked the wall calendar in his office, and frowned deeply. Tomorrow's September 19. Hermione's birthday.
Which made him wonder what the bloody hell he should do. Last year, he had gotten her a nice set of knives. Well, last year, I knew exactly where I stood with her. This year… I have no idea.
Last year, Hermione Granger had been a student and nothing more. Well, something more but not much. More like a precocious apprentice, a subordinate but one who joked with him and he could be snarky with. She had turned seventeen sometime over the course of that year- he had given her a watch. It is customary to give a witch or wizard a watch when they reach their majority.
And tomorrow isn't even her real birthday. She said she'd be nineteen in February. She's already eighteen. It won't mean anything. And I don't even really have anything to give her.
It didn't matter, though. Severus knew exactly what he was going to do for her. The only question was why he would be doing it.
Giving her a gift on the nineteenth of September would not be giving her a gift as a birthday present. It would be giving a her a gift for sentimental reasons. Severus remembered a small girl, all bushy hair and splotchy cheeks, crying in a corridor not far from Gryffindor Tower.
How much do you want to bet that no one will remember her birthday? Not those stupid boys, not the female Weasley, not anyone of her classmates. They'll wake up tomorrow and go about their day as if nothing has changed and Hermione will refuse to bring it up. Maybe she'll even cry. And she'll live her birthday twice, which means forty eight hours instead of twenty four where she'll be reminded every minute that no one really gives a shit about her. Last year her parents didn't even send a letter.
There was a distinct bitterness in the tone of Severus' thoughts, a mix of his own memories, the memory of the girl crying in the early hours of the night, and the anger that coursed through him when he thought of Hermione crying for any reason.
Why do I care so much? he though scathingly. Why do I give a shit?
There are many reasons, a small voice in his head told him tartly. Do you want to hear the most relevant one, or the one that's the easiest to handle?
The first and easiest reason would be because Severus Snape knew how it felt. His parent's had given up on the entire 'birthday' thing when his father had lost the job at the mill. No money meant no presents. Or rather, it was the next year, really. A few days before his seventh birthday, his grandparent's library of Dark Arts books had arrived and were subsequently stashed in the attic. That had been all the birthday he had really needed. His mother had tried that year, making his favorite dinner.
The next year, however, no one had cared. His mother sank further into depression as her husband beat her and her son, and by the time Severus turned eight he understood that he wouldn't get anything. Not even a happy birthday.
Lily Evans, had remembered, thought. Not for his eighth birthday, no, for his eleventh. She had wished him a happy birthday, glancing at his Hogwarts letter with envious eyes. He had graciously let her hold it and read it, and by the time her birthday arrived, twenty one days later, her own had arrived and the two of them celebrated together with leftover cake Lily smuggled out from her house.
She had remembered his twelfth birthday too, and his thirteenth and his fourteenth. She forgot about his fifteenth, though, remembering a few days before her own birthday. Lily had apologized with a rueful grin and a shrug of her shoulders, and Severus could remember the way that particular shrug of hers had lifted her glorious red hair. He had more than enamored with Lily Evans by then. But by the time his sixteenth birthday had rolled around, no one remembered. On his seventeenth birthday, Lucius Malfoy gave him a watch and on his eighteenth he joined the Death Eaters.
Hermione Granger did not have a Lily Evans to remember her birthday. She had Harry Potter, Dunderhead and Dark Lord Magnet Extraordinaire, and Ron Weasley, The Irritating Sidekick.
But she did have Severus Snape.
The only question was, why would Severus Snape do something for her, why would be choose to respond to her birthday and her sadness instead of that of the other students. He knew himself, and he wouldn't give a shit if someone forgot about Potter's birthday.
A year ago, Hermione Granger had just been a student. Now she was… a friend, perhaps. Somehow they had established that a week ago when he was exhausted and she was exhausted and they were both rambling. Severus Snape and Hermione Granger were friends.
He had struggled to define their relationship at the beginning of the school year, and then pushed it out of his mind to the best of his ability. It was easier when she was in class every few days, one of the Potter's bookends and nothing more. Even when they met in his quarters, his own private sanctuary, she was in her school uniform or robes, everything from the way she sat to the way she did her hair screaming 'student!'
But in considering her feelings, he was forced to consider his.
You think about her too much. You care too much. You fancy her, and she's only eighteen.
Nineteen in February.
So?
She's not half my age. By next year at this time she'll be twenty. I'm only thirty four. And she talks and thinks like she's thirty. And she looks like she's twenty five when she leaves off her Glamour. She's beautiful.
"I sound like a besotted fool," Severus said aloud, gritting his teeth and pinching the bridge of his nose. She would never be interested. And if she would be, I'd make a wreak of things before the third week.
Severus had loved his mother until he was fifteen or so- then the love had been tempered with bitterness and betrayal and so much anger it wasn't much love anymore. He thought he had loved Lily Evans- but no. He had been obsessed, perhaps. He didn't love her.
And Hermione? He didn't know. He admired her, certainly. He could acknowledge that she was pretty. She was wonderfully intelligent. If he allowed himself to go further, he could say that he was certainly attracted to her on a baser, more carnal level.
"I'm giving her a gift and nothing more," he said, turning very definitely to his work. "Nothing more."
When she walked into her private room, exhausted and ready to sit and cry at six in the morning, Hermione was officially sixteen years old. Not that anyone had remembered.
She was about to flop dramatically on her bed, when a glint of light on metal stopped her. On her bed, nestled in her coverlet, was a small, beautifully crafted box. Metal and glass, it seemed too fragile to exist, too exquisite to be real. Obviously, it had some magical properties.
Lengthwise, it was only about two of her hands together, and the width of one hand high. Colored glass in impossible shades of blue and grey and green were held together in a careful pattern by what appeared to be melted silver, fusing the pieces of glass together but spilling over the edges. The pattern confused Hermione for a moment until she carefully lifted the box and turned it so she could see the latch.
It was a simple enough design, at first glance. A flower in shades of blue and grey, with a green stem that sprouted smaller flowers around the rim and down the sides. However, when Hermione looked closely she could see that each tiny petal was encased in silver and there were subtleties of hue and tints she hadn't even known existed.
"This is beautiful," she breathed, running her fingers over the cool textured surface. "Beautiful."
Almost reverent in her slowness, Hermione unlatched the box and lifted the lid. Inside were three vials of potion, immediately revealing the sender of the gift.
"Severus," Hermione sighed, a small thrill starting at the small of her back and warming her belly. Why would he do this for me? As if I needed another reason to fancy him, he has to go and do something like this for me.
Tucked to the side of the potion vials was a slip of fine parchment, a note.
Use with care.
1. Felix Felicis.
2. Veritaserum
3. Jarberky's Poison
In other words, the box contained a fortune in some of the most dangerous and controlled substances in the Wizarding World, potions that Hermione was sure would come in handy sometime in the next few years. A fortune in potions that would be impossible to obtain for anyone but a Potions Master.
What should I do? Hermione thought. I really should thank him… oh but he didn't sign it and he probably does not want me to make a big deal out of it… Maybe I should just get him something nice for his birthday. January 9- I'll remember it.
In the two weeks between her first mention of the idea of Harry teaching a Defense Against the Dark Arts group and when he finally agreed, the weather in Scotland grew worse and worse. September at Hogwarts was a wet, miserable experience.
Hermione loved being holed up in the library, working on homework or researching or reading. As adept as she had become in martial arts and knife fighting and fitness, her true home was the library, full of books and scholarly pursuits. Currently, she, Harry, and Ron were busy working on an essay for Snape, a wonderfully complex piece of work that even she had never really studied before.
Professor Snape really did give us a wonderful little challenge here, Hermione thought, mind firmly stuck on school work. Anti-venoms that may be more poisonous than the poisons they cure… fascinating. And he did explain it rather wonderfully in class- well, I think it was wonderful but Harry and Ron look like they're struggling… I suppose they didn't do the background reading and therefore didn't understand a whit of the lecture. Harry really needs to start keeping up with his school work- honestly, we have our O.W.L.'s this year, and I can't be whispering in his ear during the test… Half the school will probably fail their O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year anyway, because of that dratted toad… I really should bring up the Defense Against the Dark Arts study group again with Harry. Severus said that things were heating up more with the Dark Lord.
"'I was wondering whether you'd thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry," Hermione said suddenly, looking up from her diagrams. Now's as good as ever.
"'Course I have," said Harry grumpily. "Can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us-"
No, that's not what I meant, Harry, and you know it. "I meant the idea Ron and I had-" Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look. Of course. She frowned at him. "Oh, all right, the idea I had, then- about you teaching us."
Harry did not answer at once. "Well," he said slowly, when he could no longer pretend to find Asiatic Anti-Venoms interesting, "Yeah, I - I've thought about it a bit."
"And?" asked Hermione eagerly. This is absolutely perfect for building you a base of loyal, competent supporters and I will not have you jeopardize it if I have to Imperio you to make you agree.
"I dunno," said Harry, playing for time. He looked up at Ron, which made Hermione sigh. Boys.
"I thought it was a good idea from the start," said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure Harry was not going to start shouting again. Oh, now you agree. No, you didn't you liar. Ugh. I hate both of them. No, I don't. Just remember they aren't as mature, and they aren't doing this deliberately to antagonize you, Hermione.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?" It was a load of luck, but you do have some talent in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"Yes, Harry,' said Hermione gently, trying to be as patient as she could. "But all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said-"
Ron looked round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, "Yeah? What did Vicky say?" Vicky? He's still not angry, is he?"
"He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang," Hermione replied, a bit confused.
Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously. "You're not still in contact with him, are you?" What has this got to do with anything?
"So what if I am?" said Hermione coolly, feeling the irritation rise up in her. "I can have a pen-pal if I-" That's all Viktor is, really. Sad, really, that my only relationship that could have worked is reduced to pen pals. Maybe after the war… But for now, along with Charlotte, he is a valuable source of information.
"He didn't only want to be your pen-pal," said Ron accusingly. And I didn't want him to only be my pen pal but that's how things worked out, Ronald.
Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, "Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?" She couldn't help the hint of irritation that leaked into her voice.
"Just you and Ron, yeah?" Harry said finally, ruffling his hair. Um, no, Harry. That's completely not the point. I already know what I need to know and Ron would do just fine with our tutoring. This about you reaching out to more of Hogwarts and proving you're not a nutter.
"Don't fly off the handle, again, Harry," Hermione said, clenching her hands in her lap, "I think you should teach anyone who wants to learn. We're talking about defending ourselves against the Dark Lord, not just passing O.W.L.'s. It doesn't seem fair to withhold this opportunity from people who are serious about it. If you're worried about making lessons, or anything at all, you know I'd help you as much or as little as you want."It really should all come from him, ideally, but I'm not going to let this fail.
Harry considered this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?" Not if you do this and prove them wrong.
"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Hermione seriously. "Look," she said, leaning in toward him - Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forward to listen too – "You know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"Perfect.
"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron. Because currently, Umbridge has about 89% control of Hogwarts, which means the Ministry has about 89% control of Hogwarts, and the last thing the Ministry wants is a group of people led by Harry Potter with Defense Against the Dark Arts training.
"Because," said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, "I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."
That evening was a terrible one, blustery and cold with rain falling in sheets from the sky. When Hermione turned back with the Time Turner, she settled in her private room with a cup of tea, then promptly fell asleep. Hours later, when she awoke, she made her way down through the dungeons to Severus' office.
The dungeons were horribly cold- she wondered how Severus and the other Slytherins could stand them in December. Shivering, Hermione drew her sweater tighter around her waist and cast a few warming spells on herself. I hope Severus has a brazier lit in his office. I think he make them himself- that's why he always smells a bit like smoke and herbs… It's a lovely smell. Honestly, Hermione, take a breath and push these thoughts out of your head- what if he saw?
When she reached Severus' door, still Disillusioned, she knocked hard thrice and softly twice.
"Enter," snapped the Potions' Master, and Hermione did as he bid, removing the charm and her Glamour as the door shut with a bang.
'Wards?' she mouthed, and Severus nodded. "Good," Hermione said aloud, face breaking into a smile. "In about…" she checked her watch. "Ten minutes Harry is going to agree to lead a Defense Against the Dark Arts group."
Severus raised his eyebrows. "Well done. How is this going to play out?"
Hermione took a seat her in the leftmost chair, her chair. She promptly frowned, stood, and then cast several cushioning and warming spells on it. "Really, Severus. Can't you get the kind of chairs Professor McGonagall has in her office?"
In response, Severus snorted. "I want any visitors to be as uncomfortable as possible so they'll leave quickly," he snarked. "Remove those before you leave."
Sighing, Hermione sat again. "Fine. For the next few days, I'm going to work convincing the students I selected to join the group." More than a week ago, she and Severus had poured over student files for all Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students third year and up, looking for those who would be potentially good followers for Harry. She had selected twenty-one students, and was anticipation the joining of at least three more once the group became more 'popular' in direct correlation to Umbridge's decreasing popularity and the number of months before the O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s.
The ideal Defense Group member should be Harry's age or younger, with mediocre to good grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were preferred; a dedicated Ravenclaw could really self-study by himself. However, it wouldn't do for the club to be too exclusive, so despite their general prickliness and I-am-smarter-than-thou attitude many Ravenclaws possessed, Hermione had selected five she thought would be a good fit. The best qualities of many Hufflepuffs included loyalty and dedication to hard work- she had also selected five Hufflepuffs, all in the same year as Harry.
One of them had jumped out at her as an immediate dissenter- Zacharias Smith, notable for his poor grades and poor teacher reviews. According to Severus, he was "a sycophant almost as annoying as you were to teachers, and an obnoxious little fart with his peers. To offend, he must simply open his mouth."
In other words, the 'common enemy' who would speak up irritatingly, resulting in a unifying put down. She was counting on one of the older students for this one- preferably one who would then make a show of listening and respecting Harry.
As for Gryffindors, Hermione was counting on most of their year (excluding Seamus, who would need to be convinced by Dean), Ginny's friends, and Fred and George's friends. The Weasleys were blessedly scattered through nearly all the years, which made Hermione's job easy.
It had been ridiculously good fun to sprawl out on the floor of Severus' sitting room, reading through stacks of confidential student files and calling out questions to the Potion's Master as he worked on grading. That really brought out the worst in him- she had made the mistake of asking about one of the Hufflepuffs while he was working on their essay and had gotten a three minute speech on that particular student's inability to understand not only the correct color of ink (not orange) to use while writing essays, but also proper sentence structure, when not to doodle hearts in the margins of their homework, and how venom and antidotes react in copper cauldrons.
"And after they are all convinced?" Severus asked, a particular look in his eye that Hermione thought might hint at his enjoyment of the process. If there was one thing that the Slytherin Head of House enjoyed more than baiting Dumbledore, it was a cunningly concocted and cleverly executed plot. Even if it was to help Potter, it was still a quite pleasant exercise in manipulation.
Hermione smirked. "Then we meet in a terribly open manner that looks as if we are trying desperately to stay hidden. I was thinking Pucey's Bar and Tavern."
"No," Severus said, shaking his head. "Use the Hog's Head. It's run by Aberforth Dumbledore."
She leaned back and turned the new plan over in her head. "Alright. Can you get another Order member in there? In disguise of course. I'm hoping I can try to tip Umbridge off to an Defense Against the Dark Arts group forming- I don't want her to be able to prove anything, but I do want her to be paranoid."
Severus stroked the side of his face unconsciously, making Hermione bite the inside of her cheek. It's past six, she thought. I wonder if he has stubble already. She could feel warmth creeping into her cheeks, and banished all thoughts of Severus and his long fingers and potentially rough jaw out of her mind. "I wonder if that is wise," he said silkily. "We should try to keep the group quiet for as long as possible."
"I want her to do something against the group," Hermione said decisively. "The students hate her already, but it's not as bad as it can get. Hopefully, she'll try to pretend like she doesn't know about the group, and cover her tracks by doing something that will affect the entire school, thus causing more hate to go her way."
"I said that I did not think it wise, Hermione," said Severus in clipped tones. "If we want this to be a success, then we need to keep it hidden."
Hermione shook her head once. "We want to unify the school against one person: Umbridge. We'll build up Harry as the alternative to Umbridge, and they'll turn to him. But if we want those who aren't involved in the group to hate her, we need to force her hand. We need to force it now while she is still giddy on her little power trip, while she's still delusional about how much the teachers and students respect her."
She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. "Severus, right now Delores Umbridge feels invincible. She's landed a nice cushy job at one of the most prestigious schools of magic in Europe, proof that the Minister of Magic trusts her. She has defeated every challenge in her way- Harry Potter no long talks back to her. Hermione Granger no longer questions her teaching methods. Then the Minister hands her a nice prestigious title to go with her nice prestigious job, and now she rules at Hogwarts. In her mind, Dumbledore is nothing but an old man who she'll replace in the next year or so. Umbridge has power, power over the same people who were teaching her thirty or so years ago. She can get McGonagall fired, she can get Trelawney fired, she can do whatever the bloody hell she wants. She gets off on the power, Severus- nothing is getting in her way. She thinks she's clever and talented and invincible. Now is the time to start planting the seeds. She'll ignore them and do nothing because seeds are too insignificant compared to her. She'll go on ignoring them until they start to peak out of cracks, but by then it will be too late- the roots are already messing with her foundations. Umbridge will fall. Letting her know about the Defense group now, while it's barely more than a seed, will give it the protection it needs to grow without her noticing."
Severus was silent for a few moments. "That is possible," he allowed. "But what if she decides to crush it immediately? Make an example out of Potter? This is the one occasion when I do not want him expelled."
"I think she'll retaliate, yes," Hermione hedged, chewing on her bottom lip. "One fell move, and then she'll think she's invincible. I really think this will work, Severus. What's the worst she could do? Let's run through a few scenarios."
Severus sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I do not have the time. I'm due to be called to the Dark Lord's side tonight. He's planning something, and says he wants my 'advice.' I'll probably be gone all night."
Hermione refrained from sucking a breath, the only sign of her concern a slight wrinkling of her forehead. "Alright. Will you tap the watch when you get back? Just to let me know you're not hurt?"
The openness that had been minutely present on Severus' face before Hermione had spoken disappeared. "I would not want to wake you."
Hermione gave him a melancholy smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I wouldn't sleep well anyway."
His brow furrowed, and a touch of concern became present. "Are you having problems with the nightmares again? I can-"
"No, silly," Hermione said, shaking her head. Her tone was gently teasing, hopefully not enough to rile the man's feared temper. "I'm worried about you."
Severus went still. "Very well," he said. "Although if you can't pay attention in class tomorrow I will take fifty points from Gryffindor."
"Of course," Hermione said, unable to keep a hint of affection out of her tone. "I'll see you tomorrow."
So ends Chapter Seventeen.
The next chapter will be posted November 15. The next one is particularly gooey :).
I hope you enjoyed it, and will leave a review.
Any questions can be sent to me on my tumblr, and I will be sure to answer straight away.
Your excerpt:
"I'm just having an 'I hate the world' day," she told him. "Thought I might at least get some practice out of it." On cue, another two targets exploded.
"You could do this in your sleep," Severus pointed out. "Try it without the wand." He was developing an idea, one that just might work…
Leave a comment, please. They give me the most inspiration for writing- and I only have up to 21 written. I need to get going!