OPOET 3:
Chapter Three:
Hermione was halfway down the stairs when she remembered, to her chagrin, that her briefcase and robe were still within her room. For a moment, she considered casting her own spell to bring them wafting through the air to her, but in the end decided she was being exceedingly silly. There was absolutely no reason why she shouldn't walk back to the room and retrieve them. Honestly, she told herself, she couldn't spend the rest of her life trying to avoid Snape. They were going to be working together for the next nine months, after all. She sincerely doubted that there was anything she could do at the moment to convince the man that she wasn't purposefully following him and making his life miserable. So she might as well go on with her plans and ignore him as best she could.
Of course, she also told herself, to rush back down the hallway would have made a terrible racket and there really was no need to call attention to the fact that she was returning. If her slow progress down the hall meant that any noise or conversation from the other rooms would seem louder and easier to hear in comparison, it certainly would not be intentional. But there was not the slightest sound to be heard from behind the closed door of the "Bridal Suite." No low, sonorous baritone or high-pitched "SEVres" could be discerned, not even the clicking of silverware against plates, even if one had been listening for it. Which of course, she wasn't.
Now fully clothed and with briefcase in hand, she retraced her steps down the hallway, this time picking up speed as she neared the stairs and in just a few moments she was once again upon the sidewalk of Diagon Alley. She was much too early unfortunately, but she had decided it would be best to take a nice brisk walk up and down the street until Madam Malkins Robe shop would be open. As it turned out, she was passing the storefront for only the second time when the door to the establishment opened and a sales clerk beckoned her inside.
"Professor Granger!" she cried, ushering her into the small anteroom. "We were expecting you to pick up your robes yesterday afternoon?"
"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry, but I was delayed," Hermione began to explain. "It's awfully nice of you to let me in early."
"Don't fret about that," laughed the woman. "This is our busiest time of the year, after all. We're always in early to try to keep up with all the orders and alterations. We don't advertise the fact of course, but as you're here just to pick up your finished robes it's no problem at all."
"Thank you," she replied as the clerk busied herself writing up the final bill. Since she was buying a large number of robes, having decided that it would not do to appear in the ones she had used during her year as Head Girl, it was going to be a substantial amount. That could have something to do with the woman's friendly and helpful manner, she thought. And perhaps, she might be able to squeeze out one more favor.
"Would you mind terribly," she began, noticing that there was a small fire within the hearth, "If I would floo to Hogsmeade from here?"
"Not at all, Professor," beamed the woman cheerfully as she brought out a large pot of floo powder from underneath the desk. "I'll just be sure to give your robes an extra-good wrapping," she announced, tearing off another large sheet of paper, "We don't want those nice new robes getting full of dust now, do we?"
Within a few minutes, Hermione found herself whirling out of the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks. Perhaps, she thought ruefully, as she began the laborious process of shaking the ashes from her clothes, she should have asked the solicitous sales clerk to wrap her in paper as well. Then perhaps her nice but not-so-new robe wouldn't have gotten quite so filthy. As she finished dusting herself off, she glanced about her and saw that there were only a few people within the building. Feeling rather awkward about using the fireplace upon the premises without being a paying customer, she promptly sat down at a table and ordered some tea and toast, even though she really didn't feel very hungry. As she munched upon her breakfast, her mind wandered back to the breakfast tray that she had left untouched at The Leaky Cauldron, and then drifted yet again to the subject of Snape's unlikely marriage.
Of course she wasn't as hungry as Rita Skeeter-Snape had been, but she also hadn't been, uh, working up an appetite the night before. She tried very hard not to think about it, but for some reason she couldn't quite drive away the image of a sexually voracious Rita pouncing upon a snarling but aroused Snape. She remembered someone once telling her that sex sounded absolutely awful when you first learned exactly what it was. Particularly when you realized, in horror, that your parents of all people must have done it in order to end up with you. But somehow the thought of her own parents' sexual relations seemed infinitely less shocking than the thought of her former teacher and that vain, petulant woman sharing a bed.
It really shouldn't bother me as it does, she thought to herself. So, the question was-why did it seem to matter so much? After all, it wasn't like she had ever been attracted to Snape. Who would be? Yes he was a talented wizard, blessed with both intelligence and significant powers. But on the other hand, he was also a skinny, greasy-haired, big-nosed, foul-tempered Slytherin bastard.
She blinked as the bitter words of that description ran through her brain, as if rather surprised by the vehemence of her response. Well, why shouldn't she hate him and be eager to belittle him? He had never granted her the slightest bit of respect for her scholastic talents and, to be perfectly honest, a small part of her was still devastated by memory of the time he had made that cutting remark about her teeth during her fourth year at Hogwarts.
She remembered clearly the panic she had felt as her teeth continued to sprout down past her collar. She had fought desperately with Ron, trying in vain to keep anyone else from seeing the hideous spectacle. But when he had managed to drag her hands away and she had found herself looking up into Snape's cold black eyes she had hoped that just perhaps he might know a counterspell to reverse or at least arrest the curse's advancement. Instead, he had simply stared and stated:
"I see no difference."
She blinked her eyes rapidly as the warm tears began to sting them. After all these years, those cold words were still capable of wounding her.
Even after that memorable day, she had not quite given up on eventually earning his esteem. And holding fast to the idea that, whatever he had done in the past or was doing in the present, Dumbledore trusted him without question, she had always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. But the following years of insults, marked by his refusal to give her talents sufficient praise, and the growing suspicion that he was deliberately withholding highest marks from her whenever possible had finally succeeded in convincing her that it was a lost cause. Since then, she had managed to regard him as a necessary evil, rather like her semi-annual visits to the Muggle dentist that her parents still insisted she upon. They and Snape were something that could not be totally ignored or excised from her life, but that didn't mean she had to spend any more time than was absolutely required thinking about them.
With an audible sniff, she arose from the table and, gathering her briefcase and package, set out to walk the rest of the way to Hogwarts. To her delight, it was a fine and bright late summer day, and she found herself happily picking out sights and sounds along the way that reminded her of the happiest times she had spent upon this path with Ron and Harry. As she rounded the final bend, and the turrets of the castle came into view she paused for a moment and smiled broadly, feeling her mood lighten considerably as she regarded the edifice with affection. When she had first laid eyes upon the castle, she had been moved to awed silence, finding that the illustrations in 'Hogwarts: A History' didn't come close to doing the building and the grounds justice in conveying their grand splendor. She had shivered in anticipation then, but now she found herself feeling quietly warmed, as though the stones of the castle itself were whispering a welcome to her.
"I"m home," she thought, suddenly, "I am truly home."
Within another few minutes, she was walking up the path to Hagrid's hut. To her delight, Crookshanks was sunning himself upon one of the large stone stairs leading up to the door.
"Hello, Crookshanks," she cooed, bending down to scratch his ear. "Did you miss me?"
The ginger-colored cat yawned and batted at her with his right paw, as if to signify that she was not quite forgiven for having sent him on ahead. But a moment later he was rubbing against her legs and purring loudly, as if to tell her that he had most magnanimously decided overlook the matter for now.
"And there's my Hermione!" declared a happy, familiar voice.
"Hagrid!" she cried, running to the beaming half-giant as he rounded the corner of the hut and came into view. She couldn't quite get her arms around him, but did her best as he embraced her affectionately.
"I mean Professor Granger," he amended, his smile broadening as he stepped back to study her. "And seven years ago," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "You were a such a scrawny little thing that when Professor McGonagall called your name the sorting hat was bigger than you were." He laughed loudly. "Thought for a moment you were going to disappear underneath it when she put it on your head."
"I was so scared," she admitted, laughing openly.
"It's good to see you back," said Hagrid, unabashedly wiping some tears away from his eyes as he spoke. "Though," he added, sniffing loudly through his large nose, "Won't be quite the same without your chums, will it?"
"No," she replied, sadly. "But they'll be visiting soon," she promised.
"So, will you come in to have a cup of tea and a biscuit?" he asked, gesturing toward the hut. "Or are you too grand now for that, now that you're a Professor and all?" he added, with a wink.
Hermione's smile hid her sudden unease. She was already quite filled from the earlier breakfast and, to be truthful, she never had developed much of a taste for any of Hagrid's cooking. She knew from experience that even his tea-making skills were suspect.
"Me too grand?" she said, in a shocked voice, scurrying to cover up her anxiety. "I'll even make it for us," she suggested, turning to stride up the stairs. "It's the least I can do, after all, since you're the senior Professor."
"Oh, ah, right," he replied, seeming strangely embarrassed. "I'll get the cups then," he offered, hurrying past her.
"What's wrong, Hagrid?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and growing suddenly suspicious at his change in manner.
"Oh, nothin's wrong, Hermione. It's just that-" He coughed loudly as he placed the enormous mugs upon the table and turned to grab the bucket-sized teapot from the sideboard. "Well, to tell you the absolute truth," he said, setting down the teapot with such force that Hermione was amazed it wasn't smashed to bits. "I"m not technically a Professor anymore."
"What?" she shouted, absolutely scandalized. "Are you telling me that Headmistress McGonagall has sacked you?"
"Oh, no, no, nothin' like that," insisted Hagrid, sitting down and scratching his woolly head. "It's just that young Charlie Weasley offered to help me out with classes this year." Bending forward, Hagrid spoke the next words in a confidential whisper. "And it's not for certain, mind you, but I'm beginning to think that, with all of his experience and what-not, they'll even let him teach dragons this year. Hands on." he added, with a nod of approval.
As he looked at Hermione's shocked expression, he hastily added. "Well, just the littler ones and only the upper year classes, of course."
"But, Hagrid-"
"Well, anyway, Hermione, you know that, as proud as I was that Dumbledore trusted me with the job of teachin', I was never really good at it. I mean, I always had such good ideas, but somehow, they never got off quite right." He sighed and shook his head. "Even with some of the other teachers trying to lend me a hand a have a real lesson plan and all."
Hermione rose from her chair and busied herself retrieving some tea leaves from the cupboard. She was quite upset by the news, but had to admit that a part of her was feeling very guilty that she herself had always found Hagrid's classes to be at best poorly prepared and at worst frankly dangerous. As she measured out the leaves into the teapot, Hagrid spoke again.
"Anyways, we was talkin' about the coming year and Charlie had all these really great ideas about what to teach and so on, so I finally says, I said 'Charley, I'll make you a deal-if you want to be the real Care of Magical Creatures Professor, I'll be your assitant-like.' " Hagrid nodded his head emphatically as he swung a large kettle onto the fire. " 'Course he argued about it for a long time but I said, no, my mind was made up." Picking up his umbrella, he aimed it carefully at the flames, which immediately flared to a greater intensity. With a satisfied grunt, he replaced the umbrella back against the wall.
They both sat back down at the table as they waited for the kettle to boil. "So we both went to Professor McGonagall and she said she thought it was a really good plan."
"Hmm," said Hermione, her brow furrowed in thought. She wondered how much of this had been planned ahead of time by both McGonagall and Charley Weasley, and began to wonder why Ron hadn't thought to mention the fact that his brother was going to be teaching at Hogwarts as well. She was beginning to regret more and more her enforced isolation from the Wizarding World this summer.
"So, I'm back to being "Keeper of Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts' and an 'Official Assistant'," he said, smiling happily. "So, I'm still staff, mind you, but not a 'Professor' any more."
"Well, I guess if it's all right with you," she muttered, reluctantly.
"Of it's fine with me," he assured her, standing up to retrieve a tin of biscuits from a tall shelf. Hermione's relief that he was not offering her a homemade delicacy was immediately tempered by the fact that he paused to blow a large collection of dust from off the top of the tin.
"And it only stands to reason," he continued, as he pried off the lid and began to arrange the biscuits onto a plate. There was a dull, clanking sound as the hard and presumably stale treats hit the platter. "Look at all the new teachers we're going to be having this year. You teaching Transfiguration, Neville taking over Herbology, and Professor Lupin back teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Placing the dish in front of her, Hagrid turned to retrieve the whistling kettle, which was now glowing red-hot in the midst of the flames. With no apparent discomfort, he picked it up and boiling water into the teapot. "With You-Know-Who out of the way and Dumbledore gone, it's a whole new world for us here at Hogwarts," he remarked, over his shoulder. "Might as well have some new teachers," he said, picking up the scalding pot in his large hands and swirling it gingerly. "Now," he said, pouring out a large cupful for her, "You take lots of milk and sugar, right?" he asked, pushing them toward her.
"Um-hmm," she answered, absentmindedly. Actually she usually took it with just a touch of sugar, but when it came to Hagrid's tea, a copious amount of lightening and sweetening was needed.
She ladled two large spoonfuls of sugar and a generous helping of milk into her tea. Picking up the smallest of the biscuits, she held it into the steaming liquid and prayed that it would absorb enough moisture as to be chewable, if not exactly edible. To her relief, she was able to swallow down the biscuit in this manner, although the stale taste definitely overwhelmed the flavor of ginger it had once possessed. They continued in silence for several minutes as they sipped at their tea.
"Though not everyone's new," she commented, setting her cup down. "Professor Flitwick is still teaching Charms."
"Oh, yeah, but confidentially," Hagrid lowered his voice again, "He only came back this year to help smooth things out for Professor McGonagall. What they're really hoping for-" Here Hagrid's voice dropped again, "Is that Harry will come to Hogwarts next year to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and then Lupin can switch to Charms."
"Really?" Hermione digested this bit of news as well. "And Snape's teaching Potions as usual," she said, finally.
"Yeah, I can tell you that the Headmistress was pretty pleased when he asked for his resignation letter back," said Hagrid, standing up to replace the tin of biscuits on the shelf.
"He-what?" she stuttered, her mug clanging noisily against the table as she struggled to comprehend this last big of news. "Snape resigned?"
"Oh, yeah," he answered, sitting back down. "After Dumbledore passed on-" The large man hesitated and Hermione reached out to pat his hand reassuringly as the tears welled in his eyes again. Removing a large and rather dirty handkerchief from one of his pockets, he dabbed at his eyes and blew his nose loudly before proceeding. "Anyway, Snape locked himself down in the dungeon for days. I wanted to go see if he was all right, but Professor McGonagall stopped me and said that it was probably his way of grievin' and all and to leave him alone."
Hermione nodded again. As devastated as she had been to hear of Dumbledore's death, she only imagine what Snape's reaction was. It had seemed, to her eyes at least, that the Headmaster had been the nearest thing to a friend that the Potions Master had ever had. His death must have left a considerable void in his life.
"But when he finally came out," said Hagrid, shrugging his shoulders, "He went straight to McGonagall and slapped two sheets of parchment down on her desk. One was his resignation letter and the other was a list of things the school was going to have to buy, 'cause the storeroom was going to be pretty bare since he was taking all of his personal supplies with him."
"You sound as if you saw him do it?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, I was up in the office, talkin' to her at the time," he said, nodding his head. "And Snape just waltzed in, threw down the papers and waited for her to read them. And when she asked what it all meant he said-" Hagrid paused to screw up his features in concentration as he struggled to remember the exact wording. "That sixteen years of servitude was enough and he'd more than paid his debts."
"And what did Professor McGonagall do then?" she asked, excitedly.
"Well, she tried to calm him down a bit," he said, taking another sip. "And said that she was sorry if he was disappointed not to be named Headmaster or Deputy Headmaster by the board of governors."
"Do you think he expected it?" she asked, blinking in surprise.
"I don't know," admitted Hagrid, frowning again. "Didn't seem to be too upset about the news that McGonagall got the job, but I guess he was a little miffed about Flitwick bein' named Deputy. Anyways, he didn't say anything to that, but when she went on to say that she just couldn't allow him to switch to teaching 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' when he was still needed for 'Potions'-"
"Oh, dear!" cried Hermione, biting down upon her lip. She had at one time dismissed as idle gossip the notion that Snape aspired to that position. But his reply to Dolores Umbridge's questioning during a fifth year Potions class had left no doubt that he had indeed applied for the post every year, only to be refused by Dumbledore. If he had learned that it was to be granted to Remus Lupin for the second time, she could only imagine the depth of his rage.
"He crossed his arms and said somethin' like 'it's clear that at the new Hogwarts, only Gryffindors need apply'," he went on, struggling to convey Snape's sarcastic tone. "Well," he added, rolling his eyes, "Professor McGonagall looked pretty upset herself when he said that. Went white for a moment, and then got real red in the face"
Hermione nodded, picturing the two antagonists clearly in her mind.
"And then, well, ah, some other things were said 'bout the new teachers and stuff," he continued, looking suddenly flushed as he busied himself pouring out some more tea.
"About me?" she said, feeling suddenly sure that Hagrid's sudden uneasiness could only be due to the fact that her name had come up during the conversation.
"Oh, no, no," he insisted feebly, shaking his head. "But, anyway, McGonagall finally said that, of course she couldn't stop him, but that he was really needed at Hogwarts and to please reconsider."
There was another silence.
"And then what happened?" she finally prompted.
"Well, he said, he said-" Hagrid shook his head again. "I don't think I better tell you exactly what he said," he admitted finally.
At this, Hermione had to struggle to hide her grin. For the perennially loose-lipped Hagrid not to tell her all the details, it had to have been a horribly scathing remark. Or, she thought, her smile suddenly fading away of her own accord, it had been a comment directed at herself and Hagrid was too embarrassed to repeat it.
"But he left-slamming the door behind him and Professor McGonagall 'bout hit the roof again when she saw the list of supplies the school was going to have to buy," he said.
"Hmm," she replied, absentmindedly reaching for another biscuit. She almost had it to her lips before she remembered to give it a thorough soaking in the tea first. "But he's back?" she said, in a tone of bewilderment.
"Yep," he replied, in a satisfied tone of voice, as if this was perfectly unsurprising.
"But why, after that huge row, would he want to come back?" she asked, "And why would the Headmistress let him?"
"Because she still hadn't found anyone for Potions, had she?" he answered cheerily. "And with September 1st coming up, didn't have time to hold a grudge, I guess."
"But that still doesn't answer why Snape-"
"Well, that's even easier," he said, chuckling softly. "Now that he had a family to think of, couldn't very well not work, even if it meant coming back here to Hogwarts. More tea?" he asked, picking up the pot.
"No thank you," she whispered, sitting back in her chair and blinking in surprise, "Family?"
Hagrid shrugged. "Just him and Rita for now," he admitted. "But the way they've been carrying on that there will be little ones coming soon."
The image of a little girl burdened with Rita's features and Snape's lank and oily hair floated briefly through her mind. She batted it down, only to find it replaced with the vision of a boy bearing Snape's scowling countenance and large nose, albeit crowned with blond hair curled into absurdly tight coils. The thought of the little Skeeter-Snapes to come made her shudder slightly.
Leaning forward, she stared at Hagrid, suddenly realizing that he had spoken of the match in a warm and friendly tone of voice. "But, Hagrid," she said, "Don't you think it's kind of funny that he suddenly got married? And to Rita, of all people? That's just such a strange match, don't you think?"
"Hermione!" Hagrid's voice was now gently reproving. "That's not a very nice thing to say."
She blinked, shocked momentarily into silence by the vehemence of his reply. "I just mean-" she began.
"Snape's a good man, he is!" declared Hagrid firmly.
"I never said he wasn't!" she protested.
Hagrid was shaking his head sadly. "I knew Ron and Harry never liked him, but thought you at least could see understand. When a man's been alone for a lot of years, ain't nobody's business who he finds to make him happy!" he grumbled, abruptly rising from his chair and gathering up the dishes.
As he turned to place them on the counter, she felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. Of course, she realized, Hagrid viewed the whole matter a little differently than she did. Snape's situation no doubt had brought to mind his own difficulty in finding a compatible spouse. Another less generous and loving man might have pettily expressed envy or derision at Snape's sudden abandonment of his bachelorhood. Hagrid's sweet and gentle nature ensured that he wistfully and generously wished the man all the best for being lucky enough to obtain a wife.
"I"m sorry, Hagrid," she said quietly, rising to join him at the cupboard. She patted him affectionately on the back. "Don't you ever hear from Madam Maxine?"
"No," he said sadly. "I wrote her nearly every day and then would get an owl back from her maybe once a month. All the same they were." He sighed and recited: "Dear Hagrid, So nice to hear from you again. Too busy to write more now. Fondly, Olympe. Fondly." he harrumphed. "Don't have to hit me over the head with a bludger," he proclaimed, turning around to face her.
Hermione reached out and hugged him again. Poor man, she thought, and wondered how many of the letters he had received before the cool tone of the short and impersonal notes had sunk in. She felt a sudden, intense hatred in her heart for the French half-giantess.
"She didn't deserve you, Hagrid!" she hissed.
"Now, don't you go judging her that way her!" he answered, the sharpness of his words belied by the fact that he was returning her embrace. "Can't expect a fine lady like herself to be happy with the likes of me just 'cause we're similar in other ways," he said.
"You'll find someone else Hagrid, I just know you will," she said, squeezing him even tighter.
"I hope so, Hermione, I hope so," he said, kissing her gently on the top of her head. "And if I do," he said, pushing her away slightly and a teasing tone coming into his voice, "Don't you go criticizing us, saying we're 'a strange match'."
"I won't," she promised, with a smile.
They both looked down as they felt Crookshanks beginning to circle around their ankles.
"Are you feeling left out, Crookshanks? Or does this mean you're ready for something to eat?" she joked, bending down to pet him. The cat opened his mouth and answered with a low and prolonged meow.
"Yeah, you'd best be getting settled in your room and all," said Hagrid, patting her on the shoulder before releasing his hold completely. "Lots to do before school starts in a few days."
"Yes," she replied, bending down to pick up her briefcase and packages again. "But where exactly are my rooms?" she asked, hesitating at the open door.
"Well, I'm not quite sure," he answered. "Guess you better ask one of the house elves," ignoring her grimace at the mention of the enslaved creatures.
"C'mon, Crookshanks," she urged, moving out the doorway and striding down the steps.
"Oh, and Professor McGonagall wants you to stop in her office as soon as you can," he called after her.
"All right," she answered. "Oh," she said, suddenly realizing that, of course, this would be the Headmaster's, or rather Headmistress' office now. And that she herself would probably be inheriting McGonagall's former office. "What's the password?" she asked.
Hagrid frowned, apparently racking his brain for a moment. "Panthera pardus!" he proclaimed, with some relief.
Hermione stifled a giggle as she turned and continued walking toward the castle. Just another sign of the changing times, she thought. From now on, it appeared that it would the passwords would be inspired by felines rather than confections.
Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay. I can only plead the intrusion of real life. As for when the "R-rated" segments of this story will finally appear, I can only say that the story seems to be stretching into a much longer format than I originally envisioned.
Chapter Three:
Hermione was halfway down the stairs when she remembered, to her chagrin, that her briefcase and robe were still within her room. For a moment, she considered casting her own spell to bring them wafting through the air to her, but in the end decided she was being exceedingly silly. There was absolutely no reason why she shouldn't walk back to the room and retrieve them. Honestly, she told herself, she couldn't spend the rest of her life trying to avoid Snape. They were going to be working together for the next nine months, after all. She sincerely doubted that there was anything she could do at the moment to convince the man that she wasn't purposefully following him and making his life miserable. So she might as well go on with her plans and ignore him as best she could.
Of course, she also told herself, to rush back down the hallway would have made a terrible racket and there really was no need to call attention to the fact that she was returning. If her slow progress down the hall meant that any noise or conversation from the other rooms would seem louder and easier to hear in comparison, it certainly would not be intentional. But there was not the slightest sound to be heard from behind the closed door of the "Bridal Suite." No low, sonorous baritone or high-pitched "SEVres" could be discerned, not even the clicking of silverware against plates, even if one had been listening for it. Which of course, she wasn't.
Now fully clothed and with briefcase in hand, she retraced her steps down the hallway, this time picking up speed as she neared the stairs and in just a few moments she was once again upon the sidewalk of Diagon Alley. She was much too early unfortunately, but she had decided it would be best to take a nice brisk walk up and down the street until Madam Malkins Robe shop would be open. As it turned out, she was passing the storefront for only the second time when the door to the establishment opened and a sales clerk beckoned her inside.
"Professor Granger!" she cried, ushering her into the small anteroom. "We were expecting you to pick up your robes yesterday afternoon?"
"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry, but I was delayed," Hermione began to explain. "It's awfully nice of you to let me in early."
"Don't fret about that," laughed the woman. "This is our busiest time of the year, after all. We're always in early to try to keep up with all the orders and alterations. We don't advertise the fact of course, but as you're here just to pick up your finished robes it's no problem at all."
"Thank you," she replied as the clerk busied herself writing up the final bill. Since she was buying a large number of robes, having decided that it would not do to appear in the ones she had used during her year as Head Girl, it was going to be a substantial amount. That could have something to do with the woman's friendly and helpful manner, she thought. And perhaps, she might be able to squeeze out one more favor.
"Would you mind terribly," she began, noticing that there was a small fire within the hearth, "If I would floo to Hogsmeade from here?"
"Not at all, Professor," beamed the woman cheerfully as she brought out a large pot of floo powder from underneath the desk. "I'll just be sure to give your robes an extra-good wrapping," she announced, tearing off another large sheet of paper, "We don't want those nice new robes getting full of dust now, do we?"
Within a few minutes, Hermione found herself whirling out of the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks. Perhaps, she thought ruefully, as she began the laborious process of shaking the ashes from her clothes, she should have asked the solicitous sales clerk to wrap her in paper as well. Then perhaps her nice but not-so-new robe wouldn't have gotten quite so filthy. As she finished dusting herself off, she glanced about her and saw that there were only a few people within the building. Feeling rather awkward about using the fireplace upon the premises without being a paying customer, she promptly sat down at a table and ordered some tea and toast, even though she really didn't feel very hungry. As she munched upon her breakfast, her mind wandered back to the breakfast tray that she had left untouched at The Leaky Cauldron, and then drifted yet again to the subject of Snape's unlikely marriage.
Of course she wasn't as hungry as Rita Skeeter-Snape had been, but she also hadn't been, uh, working up an appetite the night before. She tried very hard not to think about it, but for some reason she couldn't quite drive away the image of a sexually voracious Rita pouncing upon a snarling but aroused Snape. She remembered someone once telling her that sex sounded absolutely awful when you first learned exactly what it was. Particularly when you realized, in horror, that your parents of all people must have done it in order to end up with you. But somehow the thought of her own parents' sexual relations seemed infinitely less shocking than the thought of her former teacher and that vain, petulant woman sharing a bed.
It really shouldn't bother me as it does, she thought to herself. So, the question was-why did it seem to matter so much? After all, it wasn't like she had ever been attracted to Snape. Who would be? Yes he was a talented wizard, blessed with both intelligence and significant powers. But on the other hand, he was also a skinny, greasy-haired, big-nosed, foul-tempered Slytherin bastard.
She blinked as the bitter words of that description ran through her brain, as if rather surprised by the vehemence of her response. Well, why shouldn't she hate him and be eager to belittle him? He had never granted her the slightest bit of respect for her scholastic talents and, to be perfectly honest, a small part of her was still devastated by memory of the time he had made that cutting remark about her teeth during her fourth year at Hogwarts.
She remembered clearly the panic she had felt as her teeth continued to sprout down past her collar. She had fought desperately with Ron, trying in vain to keep anyone else from seeing the hideous spectacle. But when he had managed to drag her hands away and she had found herself looking up into Snape's cold black eyes she had hoped that just perhaps he might know a counterspell to reverse or at least arrest the curse's advancement. Instead, he had simply stared and stated:
"I see no difference."
She blinked her eyes rapidly as the warm tears began to sting them. After all these years, those cold words were still capable of wounding her.
Even after that memorable day, she had not quite given up on eventually earning his esteem. And holding fast to the idea that, whatever he had done in the past or was doing in the present, Dumbledore trusted him without question, she had always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. But the following years of insults, marked by his refusal to give her talents sufficient praise, and the growing suspicion that he was deliberately withholding highest marks from her whenever possible had finally succeeded in convincing her that it was a lost cause. Since then, she had managed to regard him as a necessary evil, rather like her semi-annual visits to the Muggle dentist that her parents still insisted she upon. They and Snape were something that could not be totally ignored or excised from her life, but that didn't mean she had to spend any more time than was absolutely required thinking about them.
With an audible sniff, she arose from the table and, gathering her briefcase and package, set out to walk the rest of the way to Hogwarts. To her delight, it was a fine and bright late summer day, and she found herself happily picking out sights and sounds along the way that reminded her of the happiest times she had spent upon this path with Ron and Harry. As she rounded the final bend, and the turrets of the castle came into view she paused for a moment and smiled broadly, feeling her mood lighten considerably as she regarded the edifice with affection. When she had first laid eyes upon the castle, she had been moved to awed silence, finding that the illustrations in 'Hogwarts: A History' didn't come close to doing the building and the grounds justice in conveying their grand splendor. She had shivered in anticipation then, but now she found herself feeling quietly warmed, as though the stones of the castle itself were whispering a welcome to her.
"I"m home," she thought, suddenly, "I am truly home."
Within another few minutes, she was walking up the path to Hagrid's hut. To her delight, Crookshanks was sunning himself upon one of the large stone stairs leading up to the door.
"Hello, Crookshanks," she cooed, bending down to scratch his ear. "Did you miss me?"
The ginger-colored cat yawned and batted at her with his right paw, as if to signify that she was not quite forgiven for having sent him on ahead. But a moment later he was rubbing against her legs and purring loudly, as if to tell her that he had most magnanimously decided overlook the matter for now.
"And there's my Hermione!" declared a happy, familiar voice.
"Hagrid!" she cried, running to the beaming half-giant as he rounded the corner of the hut and came into view. She couldn't quite get her arms around him, but did her best as he embraced her affectionately.
"I mean Professor Granger," he amended, his smile broadening as he stepped back to study her. "And seven years ago," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "You were a such a scrawny little thing that when Professor McGonagall called your name the sorting hat was bigger than you were." He laughed loudly. "Thought for a moment you were going to disappear underneath it when she put it on your head."
"I was so scared," she admitted, laughing openly.
"It's good to see you back," said Hagrid, unabashedly wiping some tears away from his eyes as he spoke. "Though," he added, sniffing loudly through his large nose, "Won't be quite the same without your chums, will it?"
"No," she replied, sadly. "But they'll be visiting soon," she promised.
"So, will you come in to have a cup of tea and a biscuit?" he asked, gesturing toward the hut. "Or are you too grand now for that, now that you're a Professor and all?" he added, with a wink.
Hermione's smile hid her sudden unease. She was already quite filled from the earlier breakfast and, to be truthful, she never had developed much of a taste for any of Hagrid's cooking. She knew from experience that even his tea-making skills were suspect.
"Me too grand?" she said, in a shocked voice, scurrying to cover up her anxiety. "I'll even make it for us," she suggested, turning to stride up the stairs. "It's the least I can do, after all, since you're the senior Professor."
"Oh, ah, right," he replied, seeming strangely embarrassed. "I'll get the cups then," he offered, hurrying past her.
"What's wrong, Hagrid?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and growing suddenly suspicious at his change in manner.
"Oh, nothin's wrong, Hermione. It's just that-" He coughed loudly as he placed the enormous mugs upon the table and turned to grab the bucket-sized teapot from the sideboard. "Well, to tell you the absolute truth," he said, setting down the teapot with such force that Hermione was amazed it wasn't smashed to bits. "I"m not technically a Professor anymore."
"What?" she shouted, absolutely scandalized. "Are you telling me that Headmistress McGonagall has sacked you?"
"Oh, no, no, nothin' like that," insisted Hagrid, sitting down and scratching his woolly head. "It's just that young Charlie Weasley offered to help me out with classes this year." Bending forward, Hagrid spoke the next words in a confidential whisper. "And it's not for certain, mind you, but I'm beginning to think that, with all of his experience and what-not, they'll even let him teach dragons this year. Hands on." he added, with a nod of approval.
As he looked at Hermione's shocked expression, he hastily added. "Well, just the littler ones and only the upper year classes, of course."
"But, Hagrid-"
"Well, anyway, Hermione, you know that, as proud as I was that Dumbledore trusted me with the job of teachin', I was never really good at it. I mean, I always had such good ideas, but somehow, they never got off quite right." He sighed and shook his head. "Even with some of the other teachers trying to lend me a hand a have a real lesson plan and all."
Hermione rose from her chair and busied herself retrieving some tea leaves from the cupboard. She was quite upset by the news, but had to admit that a part of her was feeling very guilty that she herself had always found Hagrid's classes to be at best poorly prepared and at worst frankly dangerous. As she measured out the leaves into the teapot, Hagrid spoke again.
"Anyways, we was talkin' about the coming year and Charlie had all these really great ideas about what to teach and so on, so I finally says, I said 'Charley, I'll make you a deal-if you want to be the real Care of Magical Creatures Professor, I'll be your assitant-like.' " Hagrid nodded his head emphatically as he swung a large kettle onto the fire. " 'Course he argued about it for a long time but I said, no, my mind was made up." Picking up his umbrella, he aimed it carefully at the flames, which immediately flared to a greater intensity. With a satisfied grunt, he replaced the umbrella back against the wall.
They both sat back down at the table as they waited for the kettle to boil. "So we both went to Professor McGonagall and she said she thought it was a really good plan."
"Hmm," said Hermione, her brow furrowed in thought. She wondered how much of this had been planned ahead of time by both McGonagall and Charley Weasley, and began to wonder why Ron hadn't thought to mention the fact that his brother was going to be teaching at Hogwarts as well. She was beginning to regret more and more her enforced isolation from the Wizarding World this summer.
"So, I'm back to being "Keeper of Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts' and an 'Official Assistant'," he said, smiling happily. "So, I'm still staff, mind you, but not a 'Professor' any more."
"Well, I guess if it's all right with you," she muttered, reluctantly.
"Of it's fine with me," he assured her, standing up to retrieve a tin of biscuits from a tall shelf. Hermione's relief that he was not offering her a homemade delicacy was immediately tempered by the fact that he paused to blow a large collection of dust from off the top of the tin.
"And it only stands to reason," he continued, as he pried off the lid and began to arrange the biscuits onto a plate. There was a dull, clanking sound as the hard and presumably stale treats hit the platter. "Look at all the new teachers we're going to be having this year. You teaching Transfiguration, Neville taking over Herbology, and Professor Lupin back teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Placing the dish in front of her, Hagrid turned to retrieve the whistling kettle, which was now glowing red-hot in the midst of the flames. With no apparent discomfort, he picked it up and boiling water into the teapot. "With You-Know-Who out of the way and Dumbledore gone, it's a whole new world for us here at Hogwarts," he remarked, over his shoulder. "Might as well have some new teachers," he said, picking up the scalding pot in his large hands and swirling it gingerly. "Now," he said, pouring out a large cupful for her, "You take lots of milk and sugar, right?" he asked, pushing them toward her.
"Um-hmm," she answered, absentmindedly. Actually she usually took it with just a touch of sugar, but when it came to Hagrid's tea, a copious amount of lightening and sweetening was needed.
She ladled two large spoonfuls of sugar and a generous helping of milk into her tea. Picking up the smallest of the biscuits, she held it into the steaming liquid and prayed that it would absorb enough moisture as to be chewable, if not exactly edible. To her relief, she was able to swallow down the biscuit in this manner, although the stale taste definitely overwhelmed the flavor of ginger it had once possessed. They continued in silence for several minutes as they sipped at their tea.
"Though not everyone's new," she commented, setting her cup down. "Professor Flitwick is still teaching Charms."
"Oh, yeah, but confidentially," Hagrid lowered his voice again, "He only came back this year to help smooth things out for Professor McGonagall. What they're really hoping for-" Here Hagrid's voice dropped again, "Is that Harry will come to Hogwarts next year to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and then Lupin can switch to Charms."
"Really?" Hermione digested this bit of news as well. "And Snape's teaching Potions as usual," she said, finally.
"Yeah, I can tell you that the Headmistress was pretty pleased when he asked for his resignation letter back," said Hagrid, standing up to replace the tin of biscuits on the shelf.
"He-what?" she stuttered, her mug clanging noisily against the table as she struggled to comprehend this last big of news. "Snape resigned?"
"Oh, yeah," he answered, sitting back down. "After Dumbledore passed on-" The large man hesitated and Hermione reached out to pat his hand reassuringly as the tears welled in his eyes again. Removing a large and rather dirty handkerchief from one of his pockets, he dabbed at his eyes and blew his nose loudly before proceeding. "Anyway, Snape locked himself down in the dungeon for days. I wanted to go see if he was all right, but Professor McGonagall stopped me and said that it was probably his way of grievin' and all and to leave him alone."
Hermione nodded again. As devastated as she had been to hear of Dumbledore's death, she only imagine what Snape's reaction was. It had seemed, to her eyes at least, that the Headmaster had been the nearest thing to a friend that the Potions Master had ever had. His death must have left a considerable void in his life.
"But when he finally came out," said Hagrid, shrugging his shoulders, "He went straight to McGonagall and slapped two sheets of parchment down on her desk. One was his resignation letter and the other was a list of things the school was going to have to buy, 'cause the storeroom was going to be pretty bare since he was taking all of his personal supplies with him."
"You sound as if you saw him do it?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, I was up in the office, talkin' to her at the time," he said, nodding his head. "And Snape just waltzed in, threw down the papers and waited for her to read them. And when she asked what it all meant he said-" Hagrid paused to screw up his features in concentration as he struggled to remember the exact wording. "That sixteen years of servitude was enough and he'd more than paid his debts."
"And what did Professor McGonagall do then?" she asked, excitedly.
"Well, she tried to calm him down a bit," he said, taking another sip. "And said that she was sorry if he was disappointed not to be named Headmaster or Deputy Headmaster by the board of governors."
"Do you think he expected it?" she asked, blinking in surprise.
"I don't know," admitted Hagrid, frowning again. "Didn't seem to be too upset about the news that McGonagall got the job, but I guess he was a little miffed about Flitwick bein' named Deputy. Anyways, he didn't say anything to that, but when she went on to say that she just couldn't allow him to switch to teaching 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' when he was still needed for 'Potions'-"
"Oh, dear!" cried Hermione, biting down upon her lip. She had at one time dismissed as idle gossip the notion that Snape aspired to that position. But his reply to Dolores Umbridge's questioning during a fifth year Potions class had left no doubt that he had indeed applied for the post every year, only to be refused by Dumbledore. If he had learned that it was to be granted to Remus Lupin for the second time, she could only imagine the depth of his rage.
"He crossed his arms and said somethin' like 'it's clear that at the new Hogwarts, only Gryffindors need apply'," he went on, struggling to convey Snape's sarcastic tone. "Well," he added, rolling his eyes, "Professor McGonagall looked pretty upset herself when he said that. Went white for a moment, and then got real red in the face"
Hermione nodded, picturing the two antagonists clearly in her mind.
"And then, well, ah, some other things were said 'bout the new teachers and stuff," he continued, looking suddenly flushed as he busied himself pouring out some more tea.
"About me?" she said, feeling suddenly sure that Hagrid's sudden uneasiness could only be due to the fact that her name had come up during the conversation.
"Oh, no, no," he insisted feebly, shaking his head. "But, anyway, McGonagall finally said that, of course she couldn't stop him, but that he was really needed at Hogwarts and to please reconsider."
There was another silence.
"And then what happened?" she finally prompted.
"Well, he said, he said-" Hagrid shook his head again. "I don't think I better tell you exactly what he said," he admitted finally.
At this, Hermione had to struggle to hide her grin. For the perennially loose-lipped Hagrid not to tell her all the details, it had to have been a horribly scathing remark. Or, she thought, her smile suddenly fading away of her own accord, it had been a comment directed at herself and Hagrid was too embarrassed to repeat it.
"But he left-slamming the door behind him and Professor McGonagall 'bout hit the roof again when she saw the list of supplies the school was going to have to buy," he said.
"Hmm," she replied, absentmindedly reaching for another biscuit. She almost had it to her lips before she remembered to give it a thorough soaking in the tea first. "But he's back?" she said, in a tone of bewilderment.
"Yep," he replied, in a satisfied tone of voice, as if this was perfectly unsurprising.
"But why, after that huge row, would he want to come back?" she asked, "And why would the Headmistress let him?"
"Because she still hadn't found anyone for Potions, had she?" he answered cheerily. "And with September 1st coming up, didn't have time to hold a grudge, I guess."
"But that still doesn't answer why Snape-"
"Well, that's even easier," he said, chuckling softly. "Now that he had a family to think of, couldn't very well not work, even if it meant coming back here to Hogwarts. More tea?" he asked, picking up the pot.
"No thank you," she whispered, sitting back in her chair and blinking in surprise, "Family?"
Hagrid shrugged. "Just him and Rita for now," he admitted. "But the way they've been carrying on that there will be little ones coming soon."
The image of a little girl burdened with Rita's features and Snape's lank and oily hair floated briefly through her mind. She batted it down, only to find it replaced with the vision of a boy bearing Snape's scowling countenance and large nose, albeit crowned with blond hair curled into absurdly tight coils. The thought of the little Skeeter-Snapes to come made her shudder slightly.
Leaning forward, she stared at Hagrid, suddenly realizing that he had spoken of the match in a warm and friendly tone of voice. "But, Hagrid," she said, "Don't you think it's kind of funny that he suddenly got married? And to Rita, of all people? That's just such a strange match, don't you think?"
"Hermione!" Hagrid's voice was now gently reproving. "That's not a very nice thing to say."
She blinked, shocked momentarily into silence by the vehemence of his reply. "I just mean-" she began.
"Snape's a good man, he is!" declared Hagrid firmly.
"I never said he wasn't!" she protested.
Hagrid was shaking his head sadly. "I knew Ron and Harry never liked him, but thought you at least could see understand. When a man's been alone for a lot of years, ain't nobody's business who he finds to make him happy!" he grumbled, abruptly rising from his chair and gathering up the dishes.
As he turned to place them on the counter, she felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. Of course, she realized, Hagrid viewed the whole matter a little differently than she did. Snape's situation no doubt had brought to mind his own difficulty in finding a compatible spouse. Another less generous and loving man might have pettily expressed envy or derision at Snape's sudden abandonment of his bachelorhood. Hagrid's sweet and gentle nature ensured that he wistfully and generously wished the man all the best for being lucky enough to obtain a wife.
"I"m sorry, Hagrid," she said quietly, rising to join him at the cupboard. She patted him affectionately on the back. "Don't you ever hear from Madam Maxine?"
"No," he said sadly. "I wrote her nearly every day and then would get an owl back from her maybe once a month. All the same they were." He sighed and recited: "Dear Hagrid, So nice to hear from you again. Too busy to write more now. Fondly, Olympe. Fondly." he harrumphed. "Don't have to hit me over the head with a bludger," he proclaimed, turning around to face her.
Hermione reached out and hugged him again. Poor man, she thought, and wondered how many of the letters he had received before the cool tone of the short and impersonal notes had sunk in. She felt a sudden, intense hatred in her heart for the French half-giantess.
"She didn't deserve you, Hagrid!" she hissed.
"Now, don't you go judging her that way her!" he answered, the sharpness of his words belied by the fact that he was returning her embrace. "Can't expect a fine lady like herself to be happy with the likes of me just 'cause we're similar in other ways," he said.
"You'll find someone else Hagrid, I just know you will," she said, squeezing him even tighter.
"I hope so, Hermione, I hope so," he said, kissing her gently on the top of her head. "And if I do," he said, pushing her away slightly and a teasing tone coming into his voice, "Don't you go criticizing us, saying we're 'a strange match'."
"I won't," she promised, with a smile.
They both looked down as they felt Crookshanks beginning to circle around their ankles.
"Are you feeling left out, Crookshanks? Or does this mean you're ready for something to eat?" she joked, bending down to pet him. The cat opened his mouth and answered with a low and prolonged meow.
"Yeah, you'd best be getting settled in your room and all," said Hagrid, patting her on the shoulder before releasing his hold completely. "Lots to do before school starts in a few days."
"Yes," she replied, bending down to pick up her briefcase and packages again. "But where exactly are my rooms?" she asked, hesitating at the open door.
"Well, I'm not quite sure," he answered. "Guess you better ask one of the house elves," ignoring her grimace at the mention of the enslaved creatures.
"C'mon, Crookshanks," she urged, moving out the doorway and striding down the steps.
"Oh, and Professor McGonagall wants you to stop in her office as soon as you can," he called after her.
"All right," she answered. "Oh," she said, suddenly realizing that, of course, this would be the Headmaster's, or rather Headmistress' office now. And that she herself would probably be inheriting McGonagall's former office. "What's the password?" she asked.
Hagrid frowned, apparently racking his brain for a moment. "Panthera pardus!" he proclaimed, with some relief.
Hermione stifled a giggle as she turned and continued walking toward the castle. Just another sign of the changing times, she thought. From now on, it appeared that it would the passwords would be inspired by felines rather than confections.
Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay. I can only plead the intrusion of real life. As for when the "R-rated" segments of this story will finally appear, I can only say that the story seems to be stretching into a much longer format than I originally envisioned.