Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess.
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l'offre [= offer; statement offering to do or give sth to sb]
Classes on Monday weren't as exhausting
as usual. At least not the first two hours they had – mixed charms with
the Ravenclaws – passed by really quietly. They didn't even have to practice
new spells, since Professor Flitwick preferred talking to them about possible
future careers. Hermione found it pretty boring. Without having the chance
of getting any of the mentioned jobs, she had rather learned something
new for herself instead of hearing about things she would never do. Ron
and Harry, however, listened with rapt attention, at least when Flitwick
came to the advantages of general charms in the Auror business.
That was probably also the reason
why they couldn't understand her depressed mood, as she dragged herself
to the dungeons afterwards.
The pretext of having to face Snape
under these circumstances was only making it worse. Because in her mind
a little voice wouldn't stop whispering the words he had said to her that
starry Saturday night – even though she had decided it had all most likely
been a dream.
If the other student's mood had been extremely lifted through Professor Flitwick's kind and relaxing lesson, their enthusiasm was diminished the second they entered the potions classroom.
Snape was looking grimmer than usual. In the back of their minds, there had been a timid though that perhaps Snape would change his usual harsh ways of teaching class, considering the fact that they only had two more potions classes at all; it was immediately blown away.
What they got was a short speech from Snape that left no doubt as to where he saw the results of their NEWT exams. Neville, who had just barely passed due to his fabulous marks in herbology, ducked behind his cauldron to avoid the potion master's nasty glares. All in all he didn't act any differently – at least not into the positive direction. Hermione sat at her place and scowled silently to herself. It just didn't do that he pretended every single student in this class was a moron – not when she knew she had done an excellent job. But he didn't even send her a second glance or tried to catch her eye for a moment – he simply acted as if she were not present.
The lesson passed without any further incidents. Hermione had already piled up her books in front of her five minutes before the end, and was about to rush out in a hurry as Snape's voice caught her ear.
"Miss Granger, stay behind for a moment after class!"
Harry shot Hermione a worried look. Whenever Snape had made him stay behind, it had been to make him serve a detention that was completely unjustified most of the time. Giving him a reassuring smile, she waved her hand at him as a signal to get out. After a moment's hesitation she was alone in the classroom with Snape.
And for some reason, her stomach lurched simply at that though. There was something hovering in the air, and, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, the uneasiness she felt was very real.
Slowly she picked up her books and her cauldron and headed towards Snape-
-whose lips were momentarily, no,
that couldn't be… twisting in some sort of smile?
She hadn't realized that she had
slowed her step to the extent where she was barely moving forward, until
she heard the sharp comment leave his lips:
"My, Miss Granger, if you intend on walking that slowly we might still be here at lunch."
Completely embarrassed now, she quickened
her step and followed him into his office, sinking onto a chair as he motioned
her to. The wood felt hard and unrelenting against her back, and she focused
on that dull pain to get her head clear again.
Stupid Hermione! She scolded
herself. You're acting like you're what? A first year again? It's not
like he could really do something horrible to you.
Still she couldn't completely evade
the feeling that something was just not going to be right…
"You're probably wondering, what this is all about." Snape turned and got something out of dark mahogany cupboard in the corner.
"I did something horribly wrong, which gives you reason to take a hundred points from Gryffindor, and since that would lose us the house cup, you feel the obligation to tell me in person?"
He chuckled darkly.
"Unfortunately not." He threw a rolled parchment onto the table before her and Hermione carefully picked it up, still not sure whether it was going to explode the next second or not.
'Miss Hermione Granger' was written in blood red ink on it, and the seal held a symbol of a dragon bowing its head so it bit its own tail. It seemed strangely familiar, but she couldn't figure out where she had seen it before. A confused frown settled on her brow while she broke the seal.
"Why do you of all people have a letter that's addressed to me?" He didn't reply, so she guessed the answer to her question was to be found on the paper held by her hand. Unrolling it, she started reading the first few lines, her eyes going wide with surprise.
'Dear Miss Granger' it said in a
clear but sculpted script.
'We are very pleased to inform you
that you have been accepted to Malignaux university of advanced potions
and analytic witchcraft. Please do understand that due to the limited number
of students, we will await your confirmation immediately. Information concerning
our recent program and all necessary prerequisites is to be found in the
enclosed leaflet.
With best wishes
Jaqueline de Gaudard – head mistress'
Hermione gulped. Again. She closed her eyes and shook her head, not once noticing the bemused Snape observing her.
Making a great effort, she managed to open her mouth and croak hoarsely: "This…"
"Yes?" Snape's tone was one of utter amusement, something she had never seen with him before; still it managed to maintain his usual mocking quality.
It took her a while to regain enough of her wits for talking again.
"This has to be a mistake."
"Why so?"
"They don't accept newly graduated students at Malignaux. I've read enough about this institution to know that much." A distant thought boiled up in her. "If this is some kind of twisted joke…"
"I assure you, it's not." His long,
lean finger picked up a dagger, letting it slide through his hands, while
the faint candlelight played on the silver surface.
"You're right, though. They don't
accept graduates there. That is – they usually don't accept them."
"Unless you have connections?" she vaguely tried. He snorted.
"Connections aren't everything. Even to Malfoy his connections would be no use there. Madame de Gaudard picks out her students carefully. However," the dagger dropped onto the table, "she does listen to recommendations, if only seldom."
A short silence passed as Hermione digested that bit of information.
"What exactly did you do?" She barely saw the shrug of his shoulders, so dizzy was the rush of excitement making her.
"Send in a couple of your essays. Also a fair bit of your NEWT's test. She is not that much of a fool to watch a great mind go to waste."
For a second she was certain he hadn't only meant the headmistress with that comment. Then, a flash of something caught her mind and the smile that had started to spread upon her face was extinguished.
"I can't afford this. You know my parents…" her voice cracked somewhat, "I just don't have the money. Attending a school like that will cost me hundreds of galleons per year."
"That's already taken care of."
Her head whipped up at the remark, then she shook it forcefully.
"I told you I wouldn't accept money from my friends. And likewise, I will definitely not accept it from you, either."
"I'm flattered you suddenly think so highly of me." His trademark sneer appeared on his lips again. "Nevertheless, I have to disappoint you. The costs for studying there will not be taken by me, but by the school itself. If I remember correctly you are the first witch in about five centuries to get a scholarship there."
Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Hermione approached the last barrier that her mind offered.
"There are other costs, too. A scholarship contains the mere fees – which is the most important part, in this case – but I also need something besides that."
"So you got me there." He smirked knowingly at her. "To be quite frank I intended to provide that part," he held up a hand as he saw her tense in her chair, " but not as a gift. I was more thinking of a… bargain."
She blanched at the possible meanings implied in this – and even more at the distant ringing in the back of her head that was whispering that maybe it wasn't so bad at all…
"Like what?"
"Well, I'm going to have to work on a rather important potions project after the holidays and unfortunately, it's something I can't do alone. Since you are very apt in this department and both the headmaster and I expect you to provide valuable work, I request you as an assistant. Which means, of course, you probably have to work twice as hard if you want to keep up at school, and spend most of your free time here, even if it's just to repeat a process a thousand times until it finally it works out. In exchange all you materially require will be taken care of."
Hermione sat in wonder, blood thundering in her ears, thoughts whirling through her head. Suddenly she understood why Snape was gazing so attentively at her: He wanted an answer now, immediately. And as soon as she had realized that, she knew what the answer was going to be.
"I accept."
He nodded silently and inspected her with a glare that left her feeling bared to the bone for a second.
"I expected you to. So now," he rose and thrust an arm in the direction of the door, "you'd better be off to whatever class you're supposed to have now. No use to start toiling now."
A soft smile settled on her lips
as she turned around and headed outside, stopping again in front of the
door to turn around and whisper a nearly inaudible 'thank you'. For a tiny
glimpse of an instant a vague sense of foreboding caught in her stomach,
but as soon as it had come, it had passed again.
And while she was running through
the corridors of Hogwarts to try and be relatively in time for Arithmancy,
the smile on her face had turned into a full-fledged grin.