The Grist of Her Mill

By SilentG

Chapter 2

Sunday passed uneventfully for the trio. Hermione spent the morning critiquing her own Potions essays, and the rest of the day meeting with each of the other study-group members, analysing and improving on their work. Ron and Harry, she was happy to note, spent the whole day in the Common Room with their heads bent over a parchment. And if there were occasional bursts of laughter coming from that lonely and studious quarter, she didn't happen to notice.

At Monday morning breakfast, Hermione passed notes around to the study group members asking them to hand in their essays to her so that she could duplicate and distribute them. "Why not hand them out to the whole year," Harry said in a burst of generosity. "I mean, it isn't cheating, and if none of the others mind…"

Hermione thought over the idea, but only briefly. Actually, she was very proud of Harry, he was finally getting the hang of cooperative schoolwork. "Alright, Harry, let's do it. Ask everyone from Saturday first, of course. And be sure to let everyone know that it's your idea."

"Oh I will, Hermione, you can count on it."

-*~~*~~*-

First class was, as always, Double Potions with Slytherin. Hermione noticed that, while over the years she'd become somewhat inured to the irritating traits of Professor Snape's pet students, she still preferred the classes that Gryffindor shared with Ravenclaw. In fact, she often wondered why the Sorting Hat had not placed her in that particular house, sympathetic as it was to her own frame of mind. She could only think that whatever qualities had caused her to find her way into Gryffindor, would make themselves known in the fight with Voldemort that they all knew was to come. And she could only hope that she would live up to her billing.

Potions class that day was either interesting or irritating, depending on your point of view. Professor Snape was one of only two teachers (the other being Trelawney) who were still covering new material, so it was more business as usual than the rest of the day. Hermione liked it, keen as she was to learn all there was to know; but her house-mates, notably Harry and Ron, were dismayed at the loss of valuable goof-off time, constrained as they were to actually listening and taking notes.

She noticed that Lavender surreptitiously managed to continue reading her little novel, leaving the bulk of the class-work to her lab partner Parvati.

Regarding that book. Hermione was torn between feelings of revulsion and intense curiosity. She had actually seen that exact book, and others by the same author, in her parents' library at home. Pride had kept her from doing more than a casual skim, even in privacy, loath as she was to indulge herself in any of what she considered her mother's weaknesses.

But here, at Hogwarts, away from the creeping inevitability of time and genes, she felt freer to indulge in the feminine pastimes that, at home, would have seemed to her too much like walking a trail blazed by her mother. Her mother's habits and aspect were already a sufficient harbinger of Hermione's future, thank you very much.

She went robotically through the motions of making her potion, one of several medi-wizardry concoctions they were learning, while most of her brain-power was occupied with trying to recall the book's plot. From what she could remember, Harry was not far off, at least in some respects...

Her musings were cut short by an accident at the back of the classroom. Not Neville this time, but Millicent Bulstrode and Draco Malfoy, and accident was probably the wrong definition. The Gryffindor/Slytherin potions classes had been much more serene since Neville dropped his least favourite subject after a disastrous showing at OWLs, but one unfortunate side-effect was that Snape was reduced to picking on other students to test potions - and students he suspected of botching their assignments were his most frequent targets.

Millicent was an obtuse but methodical student, and her pairing with the rather gifted young Malfoy ensured that she was usually passed over for guinea-pig duty. Their partnership had heretofore survived all of their internecine squabbles (mostly of a romantic nature), but it had been common gossip around the school that the two had recently had a large, possibly irreparable falling-out, and that fact was most apparent in Potions class.

Regrettably, the friction between the two had drawn the attention of their Head-of-House, who appeared keen to have them test the topical anaesthetic potion they had been told to brew.

If the tables had been turned, and it had been Millicent who was the gifted brewer, Hermione would have guessed that the potion (whose application on Mr Malfoy sent him to the Infirmary with half his body totally numb) had been botched on purpose.

As it was, Hermione thought it was just luck that had Snape test the potion on Malfoy first. For a moment, it appeared as though he meant for Millicent to try it anyway, even as Draco lurched around the room with a lazy left eye and spit dribbling out of half his mouth; but the magical chime heralded the end of class, and Snape was forced to be satisfied with taking points from Ron and Harry for distracting his (ostensibly) favourite students, to the obvious detriment of their work.

"Miss Granger – please stay on a moment." Most of the students had already left, giving Millicent and Draco's cauldron a wide berth on their way out; but as usual, Hermione was still carefully stowing her Potions implements in her neat, oversized rucksack. She left what she was doing and approached Snape's desk.

"Yes, sir?"

"I heard mention that you and your merry band of miscreants actually got some Potions examination-prep work done on the weekend. What exactly did you accomplish?" Elbows on the desk, Snape pressed his lips against his steepled fingers, and his cold face betrayed nothing. Only his voice showed a hint of genuine curiosity.

"Yes Professor, we did practice Potions essays, on ten different topics. I'm making copies right now to pass out as a study guide. May I ask why you're interested?" Hermione knew that she was taking a chance asking such a forward question, but her instincts told her that she wouldn't be chewed out. This time.

"I'm just concerned that you don't lead your little Gryffindor and Ravenclaw lemmings down the garden path, so to speak. I am fairly confident in your abilities, but as you seem to have turned into an ersatz student teacher, emphasis on the student, I feel a certain responsibility to ensure the consistency of your materials. I assume that it would not be outside your abilities to include me in your list of recipients?" Snape's explanation sounded a little off to Hermione, and if she read him correctly, by the look on his face he didn't like it much either. A look of consternation accompanied his short speech, and the set of his thin lips seemed to convey the impression that they wished to retract the words that passed through them.

For a few seconds they just looked at each other, then Hermione said, "Hmmm. Yes, certainly Professor, that wouldn't be a problem." After quickly filing a mental note to copy an extra set of essays, her attention turned with concern to a disturbing thought. "You won't be including them in your final marks, will you? I know that several ... er," she hesitated as she suddenly realised what she was saying, but Snape's expectant face told her it was too late to take back her words, "...erm, there are one or two members of the study group who would be very worried if they thought you were going to be including that work in your evaluations," she concluded dejectedly, dismayed at the predatory gleam that lit up her teacher's shark-like black eyes.

"I promise nothing, Miss Granger, but I am prepared to make the private statement that no student's marks will go down as a result of the content of their essays."

"Thank you, Sir. Professor, there are no names on the parchments, we weren't expecting to do anything formal with them. Do you wish me to label them with the names of the students for you?"

Snape shook his head in the negative. "I have marked your mostly," he inclined his head faintly in her direction, as if in acknowledgement, "puerile meanderings for seven long years, it will not be difficult for me to tell whose work I am reading, especially since there are only ten of you and I already encountered your little group at the library this past weekend." Apparently surprised at his own words, Snape appeared for an instant to be casting around for something else to say – then appeared to abandon the notion. Abruptly, he continued. "Thank you, Miss Granger, that will be all." Snape nodded at her again, more curtly this time, and stood up to take his customary turn around the room, looking for messes, stragglers, and other things to be mad about.

Both spotted the object at the same time, and each noticed the other noticing it.

Hermione expected a cutting remark about her oft-absentminded and flighty housemate, but Snape just turned quickly away and stood by the entranceway to his classroom, for all appearances trying to hasten her departure by hustling her out the door.

Swallowing her own exclamation of exasperation at Lavender's oversight, Hermione detoured along the middle aisle of worktables in order to pick up the offending object. She was surprised to see, out of the corner of her eye, a small start from the Potions master.

"Does that book belong to you, Miss Granger?" He had apparently changed his mind about shooing her from his classroom, and instead moved to block her way as she passed. Closer than an arm's length from her forbidding favourite teacher, Hermione looked up and felt her breath catch in her throat.

"It's, um, Lavender's, Sir. I'm sure she didn't mean to leave it. I'll just take it for her, shall I?" She thought for a moment that Professor Snape was going to confiscate it. He looked at the small volume in her hand as if he wanted to throw it into a boiling cauldron of Armadillo Bile. Then, his demeanour changed entirely and he regarded Hermione as he would a clueless first-year, who he would just as soon feed Skele-Gro to as see out the door.

"Yes indeed, Miss Granger. I cannot think what would become of your house-mates if you were not there to pick up after them, provide homework for them to copy, and to wipe their chins when they drink Turtle Soup." And with that, he turned and swished off, leaving Hermione to depart alone with a conflicted, if rather whimsical, image to process.

-*~~*~~*-

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed odd the way Professor Snape had behaved after class. His conversation, for it was indeed that, seemed out-of-character. And, the way he got on about the book – was very difficult to interpret. He almost seemed … embarrassed. Aah…, so that's it. Blushing at evidence of feminine romanticism. How prosaic.

_____________________________________

A/N: One of my readers asked about the word 'schlimazel', from Chapter 1. It's a Yiddish word, although as my friend pointed out, it has a German counterpart (probably adopted from the Yiddish, since the word translates loosely to 'bad luck', using the same word, 'mazel' that Mazeltov uses.) Anyone old enough to watch Laverne and Shirley will recognise the word from the beginning of their TV show: "Schlemiel, schlimazel, hasenpfeffer incorporated!" BTW, a schlemiel is a cross between a schmo and a yutz.

Kudos or flames? Leave a review, or email me!.

Many thanks to Lauren for critiquing my work, to Isirta2001 for posting the challenge, and to WIKTT for their inspiration.

TBC

Upload Date: 21-Sep-02

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