Lend me your love tonight
by Katta (KET on ff.net)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it.
Chapter 2: The job application
Snape sighed as he sat down at his desk. He needed to get to grips with the task of appointing a replacement arithmancy teacher. He had looked at the applications as they came in and knew that it wasn't a strong field. The only ones he hadn't read were the ones that had come in just ahead of the deadline that morning.
He cleared the desk and made space for two piles: hopeless and possibles. And then he began to read.
'I don't really know anything about arithmancy but I'm willing to learn.' Hopeless!
'I've still got a year to go on my arithmancy degree, but my teachers tell me I'm not likely to get a very good result, so I thought perhaps I could teach instead.' Hopeless!
'I've been retired ten years but I'm getting a bit bored and I wouldn't mind doing some teaching so long as it wasn't too much.' Hopeless!
The pile of hopeless cases grew and Snape had found a single possible yet. Soon the only parchments left were the ones that had come that morning. But before he reached out to pick the first of those, he noticed a missive on green Ministry parchment. With a deep sigh he picked it up.
Guidelines for Recruitment from the Ministry of Magic HR Department, Snape read. What was this now? What was HR Department? Her Royal …? But there seemed to be an H missing for that.
Snape flicked through the guide. He had already broken all the ones pertaining to the advertising of posts. He turned to the section on interviewing. The interviewing should be done by a panel of three staff. Bugger that, thought Snape. He was not going to get any of the other jokers on the staff involved in this. They would probably end up with the one who didn't know anything about arithmancy but was willing to learn.
Arrange the room so that the interviewee doesn't have to keep turning his/her head as if s/he was at Wimbledon to see the interviewers. What the hell was Wimbledon? How he hated this fashion for slipping in muggle references at every opportunity! However, it was irrelevant as he didn't intend to have a panel.
Interviewers must not ask the applicant whether they are muggle born or about their marital status, sexuality or childcare arrangements. Under no circumstance can such matters be taken into account when making an appointment unless they can be seen to be directly relevant to the post. So did the Ministry expect him to appoint a single gay muggle-born wizard with a troop of pre-school children in tow?
Snape threw the Ministry guidelines into the fire and turned to the remaining two applications. The first was from a Professor Mobius of Ravenna. Snape knew of him vaguely and had a feeling that the man was something of an authority on arithmancy. Greatly cheered he unrolled the parchment to find that the entire application was written in Latin. Sighing Snape dredged up the remnants of his classical education and began to decipher the CV with the help of dictionary and a grammar. Was this an accusative or a dative?
He could have used a translation spell, of course, but in his experience they were not very good and misunderstandings could arise. He remembered hearing a story of someone who tried to translate the Bible to Russian. The phrase 'the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak' came out as 'the vodka is strong but the pork is spoilt'. No, safest to persevere with the translation. Is that a gerund?
An hour later, Snape was swearing at the perversity of Professor Mobius of Ravenna. However, he had finished, and placed the parchment in the hitherto virgin spot reserved for possibles. Then he turned to the last parchment.
Ms Granger. Ms Hermione Granger. Snape stared at the application. What on earth was she doing applying for this job. She was well ensconced in a Ministry job, wasn't she? He flicked to her employment section and checked what grade she was. He calculated that her current salary must be almost twice the lowest point on the teacher's salary scale. Even at the top of the scale, a teacher would several thousand galleons a year shy of her current salary.
Was it a prank? No, he recognised her handwriting. She had written it and he didn't think she was the sort to play a practical joke. She was clearly a strong candidate – she had a PhD in arithmancy and had published in the field. But could he cope with having her on the staff? The most annoying know-it-all he had ever met. And muggle-born to boot. What if she still had Potter in tow? But as far he could remember she had married someone – not Potter – a Ravenclaw, he thought. If she was married, why did she still go under her maiden name? Women did that nowadays – Snape wasn't such a complete fuddy-duddy that he didn't know that. But it still grated.
Snape lent back and glanced up at Dumbledore's portrait.
'What would you advice me to do?' he asked. But Dumbledore only smiled and winked which was all he had ever done since he died last year.
~@~@~@~
Hermione had panicked all the way to work that morning. What on earth had possessed her to send that application last night? Hogwarts of all places. Snape of all people. She finally calmed herself. It was only an application. She might not even get shortlisted. Even if she was called for interview, she needn't go. And even if she went, she probably wouldn't be offered the job. Hermione suspected that she figured in Snape's list of all time top ten least favourite students. And even if she was offered the job, she needn't accept.
She had achieved some sort peace of mind when she arrived at her desk. No sooner had she sunk into her chair, than a winged memo crash-landed in front of her. It was a voice-recorded memo, so she was treated to Percy Weasley's pompous voice announcing that she had been given an official reprimand which would be kept on her file and taken into consideration if there were any more transgressions of Ministry rules. Moreover, she would be docked two weeks' pay.
'Can they do that?' she thought. If they started docking her pay, she would soon be no better off here than at Hogwarts!
Once she had cleared the memo off her desk and switched the computer on, she got another annoying missive. 'You have mail' blinked her screen and the mail turned out to come from one m.corner@ magicmin.gov.uk.
'Did you like my little surprise? I've got plenty more in store,' announced her soon-to-be-ex husband.
Hermione sighed. So it was Mike who had shopped her. She closed her eyes and relived the final shouting session. Lipstick on the collar. Receipt for romantic meals in his jacket pockets. He had stopped even trying to hide his infidelity.
'What do you expect me to do when you are frigid?' he had shouted.
Hermione dragged up something she had read years ago in a Lavender's Witch Weekly.
'There is no such thing as a frigid woman. Only a woman who is with the wrong man.'
But Mike wouldn't admit it was his fault in any way, of course. And now she could look forward to a petty game of attrition. As if on cue, her mobile bleeped to indicate a text message, which turned out to say 'Nah-nah na nah-nah!' How childish, but infuriating and slightly frightening in its insanity.
Perhaps Hogwarts wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all. She might not get as much pay, but she would get free board and lodgings and her London flat would fetch a tidy sum if she sold it now. And Mike wouldn't go near Hogwarts while Snape was Headmaster, that much was certain.
A/N: Challenge requirement number one: a dictionary.