A/N: And now things get a little darker…dun dun da!
Chapter Seven: Teeth and Claws
"Move it, Mudblood," Draco Malfoy hissed, shoving Hermione. They and a few others were taking the train home on Boxing Day to see their families, not wanting to miss the anuual Yule Ball. Hermione stumbled as he knocked her aside, scraping her knee on the harsh asphalt of the train platform.
The only thing she remembered saying was a terribly unladylike Muggle word she had once heard on 'Absolutely Fabulous', her grandmother's favorite show. Whatever Patsy's favorite term meant to the wizard world, Hermione knew it shouldn't do what it seemed to be. Draco Malfoy had been turned upside-down and was being shaken as if caught in one of Fluffy's jaws.
"Get off!" he screamed in a remarkably high, frightened voice. The invisible jaws obeyed, dropping him roughly onto the cement. His right leg let out a sickening crunch. Hermione looked away as the Slytherin screamed in pain. Crying, he hobbled onto the train going north.
"W-wait 'til I t-tell my f-father," he gasped, half-sobbing, half-shouting, and definitely furious. Hermione was appalled and got up from where she had fallen as the train puffed away.
"That little prick," Ginny cursed, racing to her friend up. "You alright?"
"Ginny! You didn't-?"
"Didn't what?"
"That was Malfoy! He's going to tell his dad that we broke his leg!"
"Hermione, I didn't do anything!" Ginny protested, looking over her friend's knee without a thought for the Slytherin.
"Damn straight." Both girls spun around to see their dark-haired lycanthrope dinner guest. "Fucking bastard, I should have got both of 'em."
"Cass!" Ginny cried. "His father's a Death Eater!"
"And he can eat me, too!" Evidently the American was pissed in every imaginable sense of the word. "That little scumbag stomped on somebody's toad!"
"Oh, no, Trevor!"
"I tried to save him, but that asshole crushed the poor little guy to death." Cass drew a sad little greenish corpse from the pocket of her denim coat. It was indeed Neville's beloved pet. "Whose was he?"
"Our friend Neville's."
"Neville Longbottom?" Ginny and Hermione nodded and Cass bit her lip. "We have to tell him, I guess –is there a pet shop in Hogsmeade?"
"You want to buy him another toad?"
"Yeah, he'll never know."
"Cass, Trevor's nearly seven. Neville would know."
"I've some Age Potion!"
"I don't think that would fool Neville. He loves his toad." Hermione was astonished at how fifteen-year-old Ginny was comforting the sad grownup. Cass very quietly began to cry. "It's alright, Cass, he won't be mad at you."
"I'm not afraid of that! Trevor was Neville's pet!" The American was openly sobbing now. "Your pet's like your kid and your brother in one person. A pet's not just some animal."
"I know," Ginny said sadly. "Errol passed away over last summer. He was our owl."
"Trevor didn't pass away, though, Ginny. He was murdered." Cass held the little toad up and gently kissed it. Hermione and Ginny stared. "I thought it might help."
"I can catch a later train. Mum and Daddy'll understand," Hermione offered.
"No, you'd better go," Ginny counseled. "I'll go with Cass and we'll bring Ron and Harry, too."
"Alright…see you after New Year's."
As Hermione got on the train, she saw Ginny put an arm around Cass as the pair walked off. That struck her as strange; grownups usually didn't break down in front of kids. She came to the conclusion that Americans must simply be more open about emotions and that sort of thing, sort of like the French or Italians. She remembered how Fleur Delacour had cracked open a bottle of champagne and celebrated St. Joan of Arc's day, inviting Hermione, Harry, and a very gobsmacked Ron to join in as well as the rest of Gryffindor. Ron had, naturally, wound up as plastered as a ceiling, and Professor McGonagall would have made his fate a terrible and a bloody one had Fleur not been singing the Marsellaise at three a.m. as well.
Hermione had always liked riding on trains. It was, as her father said, a glorious opportunity to read, and she managed to get through about half of the potion ingredients guide Snape had given her. She might have finished it by King's Cross if not for the inscription inside the front cover, which she read at least forty times. It was simple and direct, as befitted Snape, but with many possibilities as to the words' full meaning. The train had passed Dinsford by the time she realized this was almost as bad as her Lockhart thing and bought a box of Every Flavor Beans to distract herself.
Prune. His hair was downright disgusting and his nose reminded her of Edgar Allan Poe's darker verse. Carrot. He was not physically her type, despite being nicely taller than her. Hamburger. He did have a sort of gracefulness, despite the robes making him remind her of a bat. Crisps. He was incredibly intelligent in an attractive way. Cinnamon bun. His hands were wonderful, just the sort that'd be nice to hold in winter when she'd forgot her gloves. Chocolate. His eyes –oh, Merlin, the eyes!
Hermione bit down on a fruitcake-flavored bean and returned from her reverie. She choked and sputtered and grasped her throat for a few moments, before coming to the inevitable conclusion of what she was. She was a freak, and she might learn to like fruitcake.
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Cass had evidently been trying her best to tell the story solemnly to the boy, but finally her voice broke and Severus continued. He had been gently reminding Neville –by his standards- that he would need a new cauldron since the last one he had melted when a flurry of feminine outrage descended on him. An either hung-over or extremely premenstrual Cass Tyler had smacked him boldly across the face. She then let fly the worst strand of curse words, derrogatory slang terms and bad English he had heard in his life since his Quidditch days. He doubted Minerva could top Cass vituperatively, if she could in consumption of alcohol. Snape had watched Neville Longbottom's eyes grow wide as a woman –and a young one at that- cursed his teacher out. It was finally Ginny Weasley who cleared her throat loudly enough to wake Salazar Slytherin and stopped the flow of well-aimed obscenity. It seemed that Draco Malfoy had murdered Trevor the toad. Cassandra had the remains wrapped in a Gryffindor-colors handkerchief, which Snape took from her as Ginny hugged the American.
"You have my deepest sympathies, Mr. Longbottom," Severus said as gently as he could. "I assure you that Draco Malfoy will be punished."
Neville's pale round face softened as he accepted Trevor's remains. Snape realized suddenly that he had meant every word he had just said to this too-bereaved student.
"That's alright, Professor. Malfoy never had a toad like Trevor." The boy unfolded the cloth and looked at his slain friend without even flinching. "I'll stop by Hogsmeade this afternoon for the cauldron, sir. May I be excused to Professor Hagrid's hut?"
"Nothing can bring him back," Snape said impulsively, in case Neville was hoping Hagrid could help.
"I know, sir. I'd just like to ask Hagrid if I can bury him by the lake. Trevor liked it there."
"Of course." Neville nodded to Cass and walked off toward Hagrid's hut with Ginny. Severus had never felt like such a greasy git bastard in his life.
"I'm sorry –I don't usually go off like that," Cass apologized.
"You had every right to be angry with me for intimidating him under the circumstances. I promise you, Malfoy will pay for this."
The Yankee grinned.
"Don't get overzealous, Sevvy. I broke his leg not two minutes ago."
"You what?"
"Broke his leg. You know, one of the long bits he uses for walking."
"Americans!" Severus had seen a few Muggle mob comedies and the idea of the term 'legbreaker' being literal in the person of this wholly unintimidating almost-girl startled him. Also, she had put herself at grave risk. "How did you do it?"
"Levitate, shake, drop. Same way I play craps."
"Did he see you?"
"Nope. He had just shoved Hermione or I wouldn't have done things that way." Cass looked defiant all of a sudden. "But I would have hurt him somehow, Sev, kid or not."
Severus was not paying attention. If Draco thought Hermione had injured him, the Death Eaters would be at the Granger home or worse before you could say 'sod the Colonies'.
"You do realize he's Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Yep. Bet he gets his pricky side from –shit!" Cass bolted in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Severus saw her slide to a stop when she reached an upward staircase and then heard her cry "Accio Bob!"
"What are you doing?"
A broom landed in Cass's hand.
"Bob. My broom." The American swung herself onto the broom and was about to fly out a window before sense caught up with her. "Er- Sevvy?"
"Yes?" Snape was decidedly peeved.
"Where does Hermione Granger live?"
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Oddly enough, her parents weren't there to meet her at King's Cross. Hermione smiled and hailed a cab. Oftentimes after holidays her parents had to see emergency patients who had chipped a tooth on something hard in fruitcake –one of the reasons why they so detested it. Hermione had always been more independent than other children, and riding in a cab alone was no sweat to her. In fact, she always half hoped they'd have been called away so she that could. Cab drivers were lots of fun. The Muggle ones told interesting stories about what sorts of strange people and things they'd transported over the years, and the wizard ones had even wilder tales. This gentleman was no exception to the rule.
"Y' can sit up front if y'd like, Missy. 'Ard as 'ell, kids ridin' alone, 'specially when it's the holidays. Where can I take you?"
"Thirty-six St. James Avenue."
"Oh, where the dentists live? I had one 'ell of a popcorn in my back tooth once and Peter Granger dug it out. Didn' even 'urt. You'll be their daughter?"
"Yes. My name's Hermione."
"And 'aven't you grown up the spittin' image of your mum? Why, when I had that popcorn out, you weren't quite as high as me boot-tops and now you'll be what? Sixteen?"
"Yes, sir." That wasn't precisely true, but explaining Time-Turners to cabbies was beyond even Hermione's verbal prowess.
"Amazing how time goes by. That popcorn tooth hasn't bothered me since your dad patched it up. Right brilliant dentists, him an' your mum." The cabbie stopped at a red light and grinned at her. His teeth looked very out-of-place for England. "I've taken to brushin' my teeth twice a day since your mum gave me that cinnamon paste. That mint stuff tastes like rodents' piss, pardon th' expression."
"I love cinnamon toothpaste. Have you ever had those little hot candies, the tiny red ones?" The cabbie opened the glove compartment, revealing a fat bag of Red Hots.
"'Ave some," he offered jovially.
"Here, try one of these." She gave him a Pepper Imp. The cabbie seemed to love the wizarding candy, remarking on how it was even better than Cinnamon Altoids. He completely missed the smoke coming from his ears. Hermione didn't figure the Ministry of Magic would mind a little holiday bit of Fred-and-George-ism.
"Is this your street, miss? –holy cats!" The cab skidded to a stop. Hermione looked in horror at the townhouse she had grown up in, only to see flames billowing from it and a hazy green Dark Mark hovering overhead. She sped from the cab and saw Cass Tyler smash a window from inside with her robed elbow.
"I haven't found your parents! Catch!" Cass threw Hermione a teddy bear. The American darted out a second later with the family photo album and a toaster, of all things. Hermione was just about to rush inside when Cass grabbed her arms and bodily shoved her back.
"Let me go!"
"You sit down!" Cass shouted, throwing snow down her back. The American raced back inside just before the porch collapsed in a mass of sparks. Hermione let out a cry as she got up and tried to run inside again. She ran into Professor Snape. "Let me go, dammit!"
Severus held the girl close even as she pounded weakly on him with her fists. She honestly believed her parents were inside the flaming house. Severus put a hand behind her head as she sobbed into his shoulder. Affection flooded through him like Firewhiskey.
A second later, Cass bolted out again and set Peter Granger's sheet music on top of her cloak in the snow, covering it up. The house fell so quickly afterward that Cass nearly got hit in the face with sparks trying to run in again.
"Whoa!" she cried. "Hot damn!" An errant bit of her hair was on fire, but she didn't seem concerned. An Englishman in a white coat clapped some snow on her head.
"Did you see our little girl inside?" he implored of her, terrified.
"Oh, you must be Hermione's dad! She's right there." Cass indicated her sobbing friend to the dentist just as his wife panted up behind him. "Hey, Hermione?"
"Daddy!" Hermione cried, breaking away from Professor Snape and racing to her father's side. "Mum!"
"Hermione! Are you alright?"
"Of course! Where were you –were you in the house?"
"We went to the office! We saw the flames down there and thought you had gone inside!"
"The office isn't open on Boxing Day!"
"There was a woman who wanted a crown repaired. She offered us holiday overtime, so we went, and then she insisted on taking half an hour more."
"Good luck if ever I heard of it," Cass remarked, the burned lock of hair falling in her eyes. Peter and Janet Granger looked at her in shock. "Oh, sorry! I'm –one of your daughter's friends."
"Dad, Mum, this is Cass Tyler, and this is my Professor Snape. Cass, Professor, these are my parents," Hermione introduced breathlessly.
"Nice to meet you," Janet mumbled almost incoherently, watching her house burn. She saw the photo album on the ground and quickly snatched it up. "You didn't –you went into that fire?"
"Yep," Cass smiled a little maniacally. "Fireproof robes." Peter saw his beloved sheet music and quickly gathered the stack, thanking her profusely. Hermione still had her old teddy bear, Algernon, in her hand.
"This fire was no accident. I'm sorry, but we have to Disapparate," Snape announced.
"Oh, how neat!" Peter Granger cried. "Hermione's been practicing to get her license to do that!"
"Ma'am, Hermione, if you would hold on to me?" Snape offered his arms to the two Granger ladies. "Cass, can you help Mr. Granger out?"
"Sure thing." Cass promptly pulled off her belt, which was, by some weird fashion, a bungee cord, and hooked Peter Granger's hand to her own.
"Er...maybe I had better go with Cass," Hermione offered.
"Yeah. I haven't been doing it too long and Hermione's more used to it."
"Naw, that's okay," Mr. Granger smiled. A few seconds later they were at Hogwarts' gates. Hermione felt reluctant in a small way to let go of Snape.
"Is this your school, dear?" her mother asked. "It's beautiful."
"Hagrid?" Snape called. "He might be inside at supper –damn!"
"He's like that to everybody," Cass clarified.
"Can we take one of the first-year boats?" Hermione asked.
"I think we'll have to," Severus confirmed. "Ma'am, sir, if you would step this way?"
In the boats, Hermione reflected on how terribly strange this was. Snape had placed his hand on her shoulder to steady himself as he steered like a Venetian gondolier. She briefly touched hers to his, and a tremor of warmth passed between them both. The light of the stars on the black water had never seemed romantic before, and the ice around the frozen edges of the lake was covered with glittering snow that looked like diamonds.
"Isn't it remarkable?" Mrs. Granger mused. "We owe our lives to that wealthy lady with the cross-cloven fourth cuspid."
"What did she look like?" Hermione inquired, incredulous.
"Perfect white, slight scar from a root canal under the second left molar-" her father began. Her mother took over a second later.
"Tall, blonde, really deep voice. Reminded me of Kathleen Turner –why?"
Cass grinned questioningly at Professor Snape, as if he might have brought about this small miracle. He stared impassively back for as long as he could, and then half-smiled very briefly.
Old school friends were always good for favors.