Again, I do not own one single solitary character or setting portrayed in
this fic. I have no claim upon any part of the wonderful works of fiction
created and owned solely by J.K. Rowling.
Special Thanks to Practical Princess for being my first ever real reviewer! You are fabulous!.
***********************************************************************
Bewildered, Hermione opened the door and found herself face to face with a very upset looking Harry. He was panting, out of breath, and holding his side as if he'd just finished a brutal game of quidditch. She had barely taken a step backward into her room before he brushed past her unceremoniously and slammed the door behind him.
"Harry! What?" said Hermione while trying to keep her steadily rising adrenaline flow from overwhelming her. "Calm down.... Calm down," she chanted soothingly out loud.
"Hermione, give it a rest! Please! I'm working on it!"
"I'm not talking to you Harry!" she replied defensively. "I'm talking to myself!
Harry grabbed Hermione roughly by the shoulders. "Listen!" he said. "Sirius just showed up in Dumbledore's office. He's infiltrated some Deatheater meetings, and there's talk that Voldemort is not dead. They're saying he's out for blood. Namely ours!"
"Harry, no. I can't deal with this. Not now," Hermione responded in a strangely calm tone of voice.
"Snap out of it Hermione," he replied quietly. "Now is not the time to be in denial after all these years. You need to come to Dumbledore's office right away." Having said that, Harry swiftly exited her room purposely leaving her door wide open behind him.
"Damn! Damn! Damn!" Hermione screamed out loud as she kicked the door closed with all the force she could muster. It would probably be the last temperamental thing she would be able to do for a while, and it had felt good. She proceeded to her closet and grabbed the first robe her hand fell on. Throwing it over her shoulders, she quickly made her way to Dumbledore's office.
The first person she noticed upon entering was a highly agitated Professor Snape. He was pacing the room like a caged panther; his voluminous robes flowing about him like a flapping black banner on a stormy day. He stopped pacing for a brief moment to acknowledge Hermione's presence with an apathetic glance, and just as quickly resumed his pacing.
Ever since the events surrounding their supposed defeat of Voldemort, Professor Snape had ceased his verbal torment of Hermione, Ron, and Harry. He wasn't nice to them. He simply ignored them as if pretending they didn't exist. He directed his nasty sneers and caustic comments at everyone else, with the exception of those in Slytherin, of course. Poor Neville Longbottom was the new recipient of Snape's unfortunate attentions now that Harry was no longer his preferred victim.
Every now and then, Hermione would look up to find Snape's inscrutable gaze on her. The exchange of eye contact was so short in duration that she often wondered if he had in fact been looking at someone else. Yet, just when she thought she was incorrect in her assessment, she would look up again and find his eyes assessing her in a manner she didn't know how to interpret.
His propensity for staring at he made her curious rather than self- conscious. She would puzzle over the mystery of it for hours, wondering what he was thinking when he looked at her. While she used to find him enigmatic at best, she now thought him to be the most fascinating teacher at school. Evil, but fascinating all the same. This said a lot considering the diversity of the teaching staff at Hogwarts.
Over the years, they had all come to understand his true role at Hogwarts. For many years, his position as Potions Master had served as the facade that allowed him to infiltrate Deatheater meetings. Although his personality was fundamentally dismal, his rumored heinous activities while working for Voldemort, followed by his subsequent defection to Dumbledore, somewhat explained the complexity of his temperament. Hermione longed to see him smile. And she had long ago formed the opinion that with a whitening muggle toothpaste, and a haircut, he might be quite attractive.
"Oh Good! Ms. Granger has joined us," said Dumbledore graciously. He beckoned her toward the seat he had just vacated. "Please take my chair Hermione. And Severus, I beg you, please stop roaming about my office like our dear Professor Lupin in full werewolf mode."
Professor Snape immediately stopped pacing, but neglected to take a seat. Instead, he remained standing with his tall frame looming over everyone like a vengeful angel sent down from heaven.
"I'm going to refrain from exchanging pleasantries and get right to the problem at hand," continued Dumbledore. "As you have all been informed by now, there is talk, and mind you it may be only talk, that Voldemort is on the move. Sirius has informed me that there may be specific plans to bring irreversible harm not only to Harry this time, but to Hermione, Ron and Severus as well."
"Hermione and Severus are his particular targets," interjected Sirius. "They are furious that one of their own turned out to be a traitor, and that he moved undetected amongst them for so many years. Additionally, they are angry that, please excuse me Hermione for this unfortunate term, a 'mudblood' contributed so significantly to their downfall. If you ask me, they are humiliated with defeat, and using talk of Voldemort in a pathetic attempt to salvage their pride. They should be spending less time resurrecting Voldemort and more time licking their bloody wounds while preparing for the dementor's kiss."
"Sirius?" asked Hermione, "Are you saying that this talk of Voldemort is only a rumor? If that is the case, I would prefer to ignore the whole issue until after Christmas."
"Well isn't that a grand idea," sneered Professor Snape, "Isn't it just like a shallow child to suggest putting off potential danger so she can open a few gifts." He nastily stressed the word "few."
All three of the seated gentleman jumped quickly to their feet. Harry and Sirius looking ready to do bodily injury to Snape, and Dumbledore, trying to avoid a new situation held up two hands in an attempt to regain peace. However, before Dumbledore could take any action, Hermione jumped to her feet and slapped Snape with all of the strength she could bring to her defense.
"How dare you refer to me as a child," she said with deadly earnestness.
Everyone, including the Professor, turned to look at her with expressions of shock followed by respect. Professor Snape looked at Hermione as if she had suddenly grown a second head. He carefully raised an elegant hand to his now reddened cheek stunned that she'd had the nerve to strike him.
"Everyone sit down!" yelled Dumbledore. His magnified tone of voice indicating that he was very prepared to disperse with politeness himself. They all immediately sat down. As a now calm Hermione gracefully took her seat, the feeling of intense satisfaction that followed such an act of agression flowed through her blood for the second time in less than an hour.
Special Thanks to Practical Princess for being my first ever real reviewer! You are fabulous!.
***********************************************************************
Bewildered, Hermione opened the door and found herself face to face with a very upset looking Harry. He was panting, out of breath, and holding his side as if he'd just finished a brutal game of quidditch. She had barely taken a step backward into her room before he brushed past her unceremoniously and slammed the door behind him.
"Harry! What?" said Hermione while trying to keep her steadily rising adrenaline flow from overwhelming her. "Calm down.... Calm down," she chanted soothingly out loud.
"Hermione, give it a rest! Please! I'm working on it!"
"I'm not talking to you Harry!" she replied defensively. "I'm talking to myself!
Harry grabbed Hermione roughly by the shoulders. "Listen!" he said. "Sirius just showed up in Dumbledore's office. He's infiltrated some Deatheater meetings, and there's talk that Voldemort is not dead. They're saying he's out for blood. Namely ours!"
"Harry, no. I can't deal with this. Not now," Hermione responded in a strangely calm tone of voice.
"Snap out of it Hermione," he replied quietly. "Now is not the time to be in denial after all these years. You need to come to Dumbledore's office right away." Having said that, Harry swiftly exited her room purposely leaving her door wide open behind him.
"Damn! Damn! Damn!" Hermione screamed out loud as she kicked the door closed with all the force she could muster. It would probably be the last temperamental thing she would be able to do for a while, and it had felt good. She proceeded to her closet and grabbed the first robe her hand fell on. Throwing it over her shoulders, she quickly made her way to Dumbledore's office.
The first person she noticed upon entering was a highly agitated Professor Snape. He was pacing the room like a caged panther; his voluminous robes flowing about him like a flapping black banner on a stormy day. He stopped pacing for a brief moment to acknowledge Hermione's presence with an apathetic glance, and just as quickly resumed his pacing.
Ever since the events surrounding their supposed defeat of Voldemort, Professor Snape had ceased his verbal torment of Hermione, Ron, and Harry. He wasn't nice to them. He simply ignored them as if pretending they didn't exist. He directed his nasty sneers and caustic comments at everyone else, with the exception of those in Slytherin, of course. Poor Neville Longbottom was the new recipient of Snape's unfortunate attentions now that Harry was no longer his preferred victim.
Every now and then, Hermione would look up to find Snape's inscrutable gaze on her. The exchange of eye contact was so short in duration that she often wondered if he had in fact been looking at someone else. Yet, just when she thought she was incorrect in her assessment, she would look up again and find his eyes assessing her in a manner she didn't know how to interpret.
His propensity for staring at he made her curious rather than self- conscious. She would puzzle over the mystery of it for hours, wondering what he was thinking when he looked at her. While she used to find him enigmatic at best, she now thought him to be the most fascinating teacher at school. Evil, but fascinating all the same. This said a lot considering the diversity of the teaching staff at Hogwarts.
Over the years, they had all come to understand his true role at Hogwarts. For many years, his position as Potions Master had served as the facade that allowed him to infiltrate Deatheater meetings. Although his personality was fundamentally dismal, his rumored heinous activities while working for Voldemort, followed by his subsequent defection to Dumbledore, somewhat explained the complexity of his temperament. Hermione longed to see him smile. And she had long ago formed the opinion that with a whitening muggle toothpaste, and a haircut, he might be quite attractive.
"Oh Good! Ms. Granger has joined us," said Dumbledore graciously. He beckoned her toward the seat he had just vacated. "Please take my chair Hermione. And Severus, I beg you, please stop roaming about my office like our dear Professor Lupin in full werewolf mode."
Professor Snape immediately stopped pacing, but neglected to take a seat. Instead, he remained standing with his tall frame looming over everyone like a vengeful angel sent down from heaven.
"I'm going to refrain from exchanging pleasantries and get right to the problem at hand," continued Dumbledore. "As you have all been informed by now, there is talk, and mind you it may be only talk, that Voldemort is on the move. Sirius has informed me that there may be specific plans to bring irreversible harm not only to Harry this time, but to Hermione, Ron and Severus as well."
"Hermione and Severus are his particular targets," interjected Sirius. "They are furious that one of their own turned out to be a traitor, and that he moved undetected amongst them for so many years. Additionally, they are angry that, please excuse me Hermione for this unfortunate term, a 'mudblood' contributed so significantly to their downfall. If you ask me, they are humiliated with defeat, and using talk of Voldemort in a pathetic attempt to salvage their pride. They should be spending less time resurrecting Voldemort and more time licking their bloody wounds while preparing for the dementor's kiss."
"Sirius?" asked Hermione, "Are you saying that this talk of Voldemort is only a rumor? If that is the case, I would prefer to ignore the whole issue until after Christmas."
"Well isn't that a grand idea," sneered Professor Snape, "Isn't it just like a shallow child to suggest putting off potential danger so she can open a few gifts." He nastily stressed the word "few."
All three of the seated gentleman jumped quickly to their feet. Harry and Sirius looking ready to do bodily injury to Snape, and Dumbledore, trying to avoid a new situation held up two hands in an attempt to regain peace. However, before Dumbledore could take any action, Hermione jumped to her feet and slapped Snape with all of the strength she could bring to her defense.
"How dare you refer to me as a child," she said with deadly earnestness.
Everyone, including the Professor, turned to look at her with expressions of shock followed by respect. Professor Snape looked at Hermione as if she had suddenly grown a second head. He carefully raised an elegant hand to his now reddened cheek stunned that she'd had the nerve to strike him.
"Everyone sit down!" yelled Dumbledore. His magnified tone of voice indicating that he was very prepared to disperse with politeness himself. They all immediately sat down. As a now calm Hermione gracefully took her seat, the feeling of intense satisfaction that followed such an act of agression flowed through her blood for the second time in less than an hour.
