Chapter Seventeen
When Hermione told Professor Snape of her plan, she hadn't expected the look that grew upon his face.
"You wish to complete which potion, Miss Granger?" he spat, looking at her with heat rising to his eyes. "You cannot create an Animagus potion without being authorized by the Ministry. Haven't you learned anything?"
Hermione bit her lip. "I know that, Sir… that's why I have already sent an Owl to the Department for the Magical Appearances Index, telling them about my plan. They should return an owl rather shortly."
Snape growled. "Very well. If you get an Owl back before the day is over, come see me." He turned on his heel and walked into his Potions store, slamming the door behind him. Hermione whimpered and walked out of the room.
Who knew becoming an Animagus would be so much work?
Sirius did.
She smiled at the thought. Sirius Black, esteemed bad-boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry becoming an Animagus - a feat that even many fully-grown Witches and Wizards could not conclude. Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew… they must have been something else, back when they were in school.
Many thoughts ran through her mind. What animal would she become? What would be her characteristic trait that set her apart from other animals? What would be her nickname?
A shrug rose to her shoulders. She wouldn't need a nickname just yet - she would wait, and think of something marvelous, intricate, and beautiful… something that only the best would do for. But…
Hermione shook her head. What would Harry and Ron think about this? Wouldn't they want to be apart of it too? She bit her lip. What if I saved the potion, and brought it back to them… They could be Animagus with me!
But what if Snape found out? Hermione laughed at that prospective; seeing, in her mind, the three of them transform into unique animals and running around Snape's feet, nipping at his robes and feet. That gives a new meaning to the term 'Ankle Biters.'
She decided, though, that it would be best not to tell Sirius, Harry, or Ron about the potion just yet. What if she didn't get approved by the Ministry to even attempt to becoming an Animagus? It would be horrible if she had gotten their hopes up for something, and then smashing it back down with a sludge hammer, all because of the Ministry.
But then again, Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail (she shuddered at the mention of the latter) did not have clearance by the Ministry. If they could have transformed into Animagus in their fifth year, she sure as hell could do it in her Seventh. However, the trio also did not have a Professor, let alone Severus Snape, helping them with their potion.
The portrait hole stood before her. The Fat Lady, in her pink silk dress, smiled down at her. "Good Afternoon, dear… Password?"
Hermione jumped up. She really hadn't noticed where her legs had taken her; she had been too engrossed into her own thoughts to really give a damn, anyway. "Giant Squids," she murmured. The portrait swung open, and she stepped into it.
The Common Room was as rowdy as ever. Ron was running after Harry, holding a chocolate éclair in his right hand, and a large foam bat in the other, a few First Years were watching them wide eyed, and whimpering from a corner, and Fifth Years and up were magicking pillows so that they would attack anyone who came near them. Hermione had the unfortunate encounter with a large armchair pillow, that had a special attraction to her hair.
Snuffles barraged around the room, barking happily and jumping on top of younger students. Hermione watched him with an odd look on her face. He was such a big baby.
Ron stopped chasing Harry at the sight of Hermione. "Hey, 'Mione! How'd the meeting with Snape go?" he asked, walking toward her. His lips were flecked with frosting from the éclair.
"It went fine," Hermione assured him. "Well… I'm going to head up to my Dormitory. I've got homework to complete. Goodnight."
Harry and Ron murmured their Goodnights back to her as she climbed up the stairway to the girls' dormitory. She entered her room, plopped down onto the bed, and closed her eyes. This would be the most hectic year of her life… set aside Third Year, mind.
Scratches at her window indicated the presence of a large owl. Hermione sat up, knowing at once, that this was an answer form the Ministry; who else would use owls of that stature, that looked as though they were 'diamonds in the rough'? She opened her window, allowing the owl to slip inside. Once the large bird settled onto a perch and stuck out its leg, Hermione lessened it of its burden. The owl hooted it's thanks, and flew from the window, into the dark, velvety sky.
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
It has come to our attention at the Department for Magical Appearances Index that you have taken an interest in becoming an Animagus, and intend to create the "Scultore" Potion, under the instruction of Professor Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The Department for Magical Appearances Index has hereby given you the 'right away' to create this potion, to become an Animagus. Once the "Scultore" is completed, you must write back to the Ministry of Magic to confirm your animal form, and the characteristics that will identify yourself.
If you fail to do the above, you shall be reported to the Minister of Magic, and appropriate punishment shall be awarded. Good luck to you.
- Fillus Degreant, Head of the Department for Magical Appearances Index.
Hermione screeched. She had permission from the Ministry of Magic to become an Animagi…! No doubt, the permission was granted to her, because of her accomplishments, and past history. After all, having a Time Turner in your Third Year for classes was something that could go very well on your future resume.
She clutched the letter to her chest. Professor Snape had told her to come see him if she had received a letter from the Ministry of Magic by tonight. Hermione ran from her room, through the Common Room, and dashed out of the Portrait Hall. She had to see Professor Snape now.
Severus hadn't expected his door to almost be broke down by the force from the young girl behind it. When he opened the door, with his usual scowl over his face, he found Hermione standing there, parchment clutched in her hand. Without waiting for him to answer, she dashed into the Potions classroom.
"What is it, Miss Granger?" he asked, voice edged with agitation.
"The Department for Magical Appearances Index. I've been approved. I can make the Scultore Potion!" She bounced up and down for emphasis.
"We start tomorrow. If you are late, forget making the potion. I do not tolerate dwadling."
"Thank you, Professor." And much to Snape's surprise, Hermione's arms wrapped around his waist.
"Explain yourself, Miss Granger!" he growled, attempting to push the girl away from him. None of his students ever attempted to hug him before, and personally, he didn't like it. Being in class with a student was one thing; having them touch you is another.
"Oh!" She pulled away, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry. I'll… be going now." Hermione turned on her heel, and left the room.
This was going to be a long four months, creating the Scultore.
Classes for the next day seemed unbearably long. Hermione was getting antsy; moving around in her seat and gazing around the class, hardly paying attention to the teachers. She just couldn't wait to begin researching and creating the potion that would change her bodily appearance.
After the monotonous day of classes, Hermione ran to the dungeons, satchel tied to her waist, bag hanging from her shoulder. Tonight would be the night that she would be able to begin the potion.
Earlier that day she had gone to the Library, and began reading through random books in the Restricted Section about Animagus, and learned that it would take exactly four months for the potion to be complete. It was a hard potion… but she figured that Professor Snape would have had experience with that, so it was a plus on her side. Not to mention, Hermione wanted a challenge.
Professor Snape waited in his room, sitting in the large chair that resigned behind his desk. "Nice of you to come, Miss Granger," he said, watching her as she panted.
"Of course, Professor," she managed between breaths. Running around with three books that weighed over 20 pounds each was no easy feat.
"You know of the ingredients needed to make this potion?" he asked, arching his eyebrow and adding a sickeningly deadly tone to his voice. If she didn't know the ingredients needed to make this potion, he was just wasting his time trying to help her.
"I never come unprepared, Professor." She pulled out a long roll of parchment and unrolled it. Just adding the ingredients would take two weeks!
"Very well. You may use the ingredients from my stores. You must, however, ask for my permission to enter my private stores. The ingredients that resign there are not to be toyed with. Do I make myself clear?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Now…" he stopped, looking at her wide-eyed face. "Get to work!" he ordered, slamming his hand on his desk for dramatic effect. If that didn't get the girl to start working, he didn't know what did.
The bushy brown haired girl jumped in her seat, and began working… putting together the lists of each ingredient that she would need for the first day's adding.
Lists together, Hermione added each ingredient needed to be used, and waited. The cauldron bubbled and fizzed, the colour of the creation changing from a deep violet, to a sludgy brown. "Professor… is the colour coordination correct?"
"What colours did the potion change from?"
"Violet to brown."
"Then, Granger, it was correct." He returned to grading his papers, sneering all the while. Even though this girl had brains, she was clueless to some extent.
A few hours passed, and Hermione spent the time eyeing the cauldron and stirring it. She put a spell on a large wooden spoon, making it stir the potion itself, without interruption. Professor Snape told her, at nine o'clock, that it was time to leave, and that the potion would be all right.
Hermione packed up all of her belongings, nodded, and left the room. She was worried about her potion, but figured that Professor Snape was right. He wouldn't sabotage it… or would he? She laughed at her stupid question, and headed to Gryffindor tower.
Snuffles was lying in front of the fire in the Common Room, Ron and Harry sitting behind him. She smiled at the sight; her two best friends, and her supposed boyfriend, sitting around the fire. How she would've loved to curl up to Snuffles at that spot on the rug, and fallen asleep, taking in his warmth…
But that would've looked silly… Hermione lying with a dog in front of the fireplace?
She smiled, walking toward the boys. Snuffles' head perked up, and his ears stood on end. "Hey… How are you?" she asked, looking at all three.
"We're fine. Just sitting here… enjoying the view," joked Ron.
"I'm sorry I can't stay up, now… I'm beat," Hermione said, staring at them. "That Potion brewing took a lot out of me."
"Snape got to you, 'eh?" Harry asked.
"You could say that. Goodnight." She turned, and walked up the stairway to the girl's dormitory. Snuffles got up, and followed her.
When they heard the definite click of Hermione's door closing, Ron turned to Harry.
"D'you think 'Mione's done anything with him?" he asked, arching his eyebrows for emphasis.
"Nah… I don't think Hermione's like that. Why, Ron? Jealous?"
"Why wouldn't I be jealous, Harry? Hermione was my first love, after all!"
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, okay, Ron. You're just like her big brother, now… not her lover. I don't think she'd like it if you kept sneaking around, and watching her when she goes to bed."
"But I don't want them to get too involved, Harry… Sirius is over twenty years older than she is!"
"Yeah, but he's been alone for twelve years, and I think it's about time he's found someone that can love him for who he is, instead of being scared half to death that he'll kill them, because of the past." Harry said all of this with narrowed eyes.
"But Hermione doesn't have to love him! She can find anyone her own age… but she's with Sirius, instead. A man who could be her father!"
"Listen, Ron. What they have, and what they're doing, is their business, and not ours. If they're doing something that they really shouldn't, they wouldn't have to tell us, unless they really wanted to." Harry stood up and stretched. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I'm going to bed."
"Yeah, me too." The two walked up the dormitory stairs.
"Ron?" Harry asked as they reached the dormitory door and walked inside. Ron turned to him, eyebrows raised in question. "D'you think we could switch beds for the night? Mine's bugging me, being on the other side of the room and away from the window."
Ron blinked. "Uhh… yeah, I guess so. Just don't slobber on my pillow."
The two changed; they didn't give a damn about modesty anymore. It was a First Year thing that they quickly got over. Harry slipped into Ron's bed, pulling the curtains around him. The scent of Ron filled his nostrils and Harry sighed softly. Ron…
He pulled the covers over him, the hem reaching his nose. He loved the scent of Ron; he smelled of cologne, and body warmth. He didn't tell Ron the truth about wanting to switch beds for the night; Harry had wanted to sleep in Ron's bed, simply because it was Ron's. Also, for the fact that he wanted to clear his mind, and the only way to do that, was to inhale Ron's scent.
From the other side of the room, he heard Ron grunt and shift in the bed. Inhaling Ron again, Harry rolled over, and finally fell asleep.
So this is what it felt like, to feel warm.