A/N: And now for the chapter! Things will get even weirder soon. It's throughly expectable. Here you go.

Chapter Eleven: Tell Us, O Cassandra

Professor Trelawney breezed into lunch like a mournful dragonfly and announced that one of the students would be disappearing within the year. Cass, newly seated at the professors' table, having so far taught first, second, and third years with great success, merely smiled and offered to announce the news.

"I sense a little of the Sight in you, my dear," Trelawney replied, placind a jeweled hand on Cass' shoulder and smiling tragically. "Even your name bespeaks the misfortune of Seeing, which few of the unprivileged ever understand."

"I'm named after my grandmother, actually."

"She was a very well-accomplished sorceress, with especially pious manners?" the glittering charlatan inquired.

"Nope. She was a Muggle who liked bodice-rippers and gin."

"If you would make the announcement to the students, please?" Trelawney asked, a little less confidently. "I find that speaking loudly clouds my Inner Eye."

"No problem." Cass picked up her wand and cast a complicated spell. A moment later, the Great Hall rang with the sound of Creedence Clearwater Revival's song 'Bad Moon Rising'. Trelawney gave Cass the mother of dragonfly dirty looks as the students began to smile and enjoy the rowdy rock and roll music. "Well, it does get the point across, though, da'n't it?"

"Cassandra, do you mind?" Snape looked as if he had a migraine.

"Oh, alright, Sevvy, if you insist." Cass suddenly amplified her voice to shocking volume. "And now, students, one of your Professor Snape's favorites!"

She changed the song and suddenly the entire room went silent. Nobody could believe what the American had done. Barry Manilow in himself was bad enough, but 'Copacabana'? Anything but that! Snape stood and looked ready to murder her. Malfoy licked his chops. Cass' smirky grin diminished slightly and everyone knew the wreaking of havoc had to be at an end. Then suddenly, a whispery sound became audible.

"His name was Rico, he wore a diamond…"

Well, when Dumbledore sings along, everybody does!

*********************************************************************

After the shocking scene at lunch, the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth-years were all anxiously awaiting their first American Muggle Studies class. They had all taken seats in a recently-cleaned classroom, decorated in a haphazard manner with Muggle things from rock and roll album covers to movie posters to a life-size cardboard cutout of Britney Spears. Noone was really sure what that was for. Harry looked determinedly away from it, bluhing, but Ron seemed to find Britney hilarious.

"Look at her eyes! Must be those Muggle pots!"

"Pot, not pots, Ron, and that's Britney Spears." Hermione, being not only Muggle-born herself but actually female, was considerably more knowledgeable in this particular area than Ron. "She doesn't do drugs, I think, but it's hard to keep them straight."

"Good afternoon!" a twangy-accented voice greeted. It was Cass, dressed in black professor's robes that didn't fit. "Welcome to American Muggle Studies class, where the rich and powerful come to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld!" Everyone looked at her blankly and she sighed.
"Of all the gin joints in all the world, you walked into mine?"
Stares.
"Yankees in Tara?"
Blank looks again. Cass sighed heavily and tried one last time.


"Do I make you 'orny, baby?"

The class burst into applause.

"Well, then! At least you lot know something!" The American took a seat on top of her own desk, sitting cross-legged as she often did on tables. "Okay, can anyone tell me the film reference?" About three students raised their hands. "Yes, Harry?"

"It's from 'Austin Powers,' ma'am."

"Right-o. Can anyone name any of the other ones?" Hermione raised her hand. "Oh, besides you! I know you know, ten points to Gryffindor!"

The Slytherins were absolutely appalled by this. There were mumbles of 'favoritist,' 'biased,' and 'bloody unfair' for quite a few seconds. Cass simply stared at them until the noise subsided.

"Glad to hear you've decided to shut up now." She hopped off the desk and began to roll up the sleeves of her too-big robes. "Actually, kiddies, I've been sitting in on a lot of your classes lately, courtesy of one of Sevvy's more badly-guarded Invisibility Potions."

As Cass spoke, she went about the room in what struck Hermione as a rather ludicrous parody of the potions master's walk.

"I've noticed that you Slythies get quite the easy ride in ol' Sevvy's class, and bein' as how I'm such a filthy Mudblood, I've decided to be a biased overgrown bat as well. Jus' to balance things out, y'see."

Hermione finally recognized Cass' robes, which were obviously stolen from Snape's closet. She had to bite her lip not to laugh, as did many other Gryffindors.

"You see, this is part of a grand American tradition, dating back to the first time we shoved our middle finger in you Brits' faces. We dirty Yanks tend to love freedom, independence, and doing whatever we damn well like, especially if we get to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable while we're at it. All of you who think Muggles are stupid things and who can't wait to line up to lick Tommy Riddle's ass, welcome to a crash course in reality. And if you don't stop mumbling under your breath, little Malfoy, I'll break the other leg."

'Holy shit,' was all anyone in Gryffindor could think.

"Now, since this class will be studying Americans, it is appropriate that we take part in a few American games. In addition to doling out more housepoints than even I can keep track of, I plan to keep score of your class rankings. At the end of the term, whoever has the best grades in the class will receive this."

Cass held up a fat Muggle book, conspicuously marked 'American History.'

"Since we all know who's going to do the best, I'm just going to give this to Hermione now." Cass threw the book and Hermione caught it. It was quite heavy, and she couldn't help but smile.

"As for the second-best grades, the winner there will be receiving Miss Britney Spears, who until that time is our class mascot." She gestured to the cardboard cutout. "And no, Mr. Crabbe, our mascot is not meant for in-class whacking material. Save it for the Common Room."

Ron shoved Hermione a hastily-scribbled note. It read:

'Cass is such a glorious bitch! Who knew?'

Hermione wrote a reply hastily and shoved it back.

'Recognize her robes?'

'Merlin's balls! How did she get them?'

'I'm not sure we want to know.'

Ron was evidently very pleased by the way Cass openly tortured the Slytherins. He almost applauded when she asked Malfoy a question and made him look an idiot. Her remark afterward actually made him sigh:

"Clearly, blood isn't everything." Cass winked cheekily at Harry as if to say 'payback time.' "And you, Miss Zabini, can you name for me the two greatest makeup artists in American history?"

"Max Factor and Kevyn Aucoin, ma'am."

"Holy shit. You get a lollipop." Cass fetched a Tootsie Roll Pop from a jar on her desk and tossed it to Blaise. "If you can tell me how many licks it takes to get to the center, I'll give you a can of Coke. Now for a harder question. Mr. Weasley, who invented the phonograph?"

"Thomas Alva Edison."

"Good one! Lollipop for you, too."

Hermione looked at Ron in surprise.

"My dad's got his book," he whispered to explain.

"Miss Parkinson, what is this object here in my hand?" Cass held up a deck of cards with the Coca-Cola polar bear on the box. Pansy thought for a few moments.

"A Muggle card game?"

"Well, sort of. They're just plain poker cards, except for this bear here. Can anyone tell me what it's doing here?" Harry raised his hand. "Yes, Harry?"

"It's a logo, ma'am, a symbol used by a Muggle brand."

"Right! Now, since I have to make up a seating chart for the lot of you, here is your first assignment. Neville, could you pass these out?" Cass handed him a ream of drawing paper and began putting boxes of Crayola things on the tables. "I want each of you to design your own logo for your desk-top. It's sort of like a coat of arms, but not quite. Here are a few examples." She pulled down a poster with several famous Muggle logoes on it, from the blue Ford oval to the Tri-Star pegasus to the little dot wearing sunglasses on 7-Up cans. "Try to make 'em nice and colorful."

Hermione glanced at Ron's picture, hoping for ideas. He was drawing a stylized Gryffindor lion with sunglasses riding a broom and holding a Beater bat. Harry wasn't quite as an adept an artist, but his picture of a winged angel clearly symbolized Ginny, at least in an abstract way.

Finally, Hermione decided to start with a book for hers. Everyone was expecting it anyway. On a whim, she added a feather quill, reminded of the first time she made something fly. Finally, she drew a sparkling little potion vial in the corner. It wasn't all that bad, even a nice logo. Neville tapped her on the shoulder and held up his eagerly. It was a half-melted cauldron with a mushroom cloud coming out of the top.

"Brilliant, Neville!"

"Thanks," he grinned, looking over his drawing proudly. "I figured, what else makes everyone think of me?"

"It's well-drawn, at least," Malfoy spat condescendingly. "Certainly makes me think of Squibs."

Ron and Harry bristled, but Cass was already up from her desk.

"Fuck it all, I was having a nice nap. What've you drawn, Malf'?" She looked at his picture and clicked her tongue. "Oh, well. You can sort of tell what it is, and the color's okay." She turned it over and looked at it from a few angles. "Just one thing, what did you want a green earthworm for?"

"It's a snake!" Malfoy shouted.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Cass looked over Neville's next. "I love it! It's positively hilarious –let's hang it on the wall!"

"Aren't they for our desk-tops, ma'am?"

"Well, yeah, but first we can hang 'em up for a bit. I'll call in the other teachers and see if they can pick out whose is whose. Is that a soccer ball, Dean? I like the flames coming off the back."

"Darling?" a voice suddenly inquired. The class went silent and Cass turned around. There was John Tyler, his long hair tied back and his sideburns combed, looking like a gentleman wizard of a century ago. He even had a top hat in his hand. "I hear you're a professor now?" He smiled shyly at his wife, looking a bit like a redheaded and older Neville. Cass put Dean Thomas's drawing down and ran to her husband, kissing him full on the mouth. Several girls sighed in abject jealousy.

"Oh, disgusting," Malfoy mumbled.

"That is the luckiest man on earth," Ron observed.

******************************************************************

"And then they were just standing there, staring at each other as if they'd been apart for years instead of –how long's it been? A week?" Professor Snape had asked Hermione how the first class with the American had gone.

"Newlyweds are like that, or so I hear."

"Professor, there's newlyweds and then there's just plain startling."

"Well, what sort of a kiss was it?"

"Oh, not really the randy kind, just the sort of 'oh, dearest, where have you been all my life' kind."

"So not randy, but still some desire?"

"Yeah, the more lingering than fiery kind."

"We sound like a couple of Mills and Boone authors."

"You know what those are, Professor?"

"I once lost a bet with your Head of House. She made me read one aloud to her and most of the female staff."

"How humiliating!"

"Several of them had to excuse themselves. I think my sarcasm coupled with the text came off as funny in the –er, physical scenes."

"Well, that, or it might just have been your voice."

"What do you mean?" Snape looked quizzically at Hermione.

"Well, sir, your voice is very, -er, deep, and well…"

"Are you saying-?" Severus looked honestly surprised. "You think that I have –that sort of voice?"

"Well, some of the girls I know have –er, mentioned it."

"Not Miss Weasley!"

"Oh, professor, Ginny's the worst of them! She and the others make checking guys out a proper sport!"

"Holy hell. It is always the quiet ones." Severus pulled out a chair beside Hermione and sat down, looking slightly shaken. "How about you?"

"Me, sir?"

"Well, yes, what do you think of it?"

"Checking out guys? I don't really think I'm all that interested."

"No, my voice. It is awfully deep and I do make it frightening."

"Well… personally I've never minded it."

"Doesn't scare you?"

"Only when you yell."

"Oh. So you don't really suppose Minerva and them…?"

"No, professor, I think they might've."

"So you do like it?" Severus asked, almost hopefully.

"I just said I thought they might've."

"Oh, not in that way, I just mean, do you like my voice?"

"Rather, yes."

"Oh, good! That makes it all worth it." Hermione looked confused and Severus explained. "When I was quite young I had a speech impediment."

"Doesn't everybody? I had a dreadful lisp."

"Mine made the letter 'r' come out as a 'w'. I used to get teased for it horribly, so I just started whispering everything, and eventually I started to sound like I do now."

"I had a speech teacher in grammar school. She made me say the words 'sheep' and 'sleep' over and over for hours on end until it went away."

"Muggles really aren't as stupid as most wizards like to make out, are they?"

"I've never thought so, but I could be termed biased."

"Actually, I thought some of their inventions in that store you took me to were fascinating." Severus indicated the wall. "I'd like one of those stereoes right over there, so I could play Beethoven while I grade these beastly papers."

"You like Beethoven?" Hermione asked.

"Doesn't everyone? Even the Muggles have heard of him."

"My mother insists that classical music is the finest in the world, but my father seems to think its rock n'roll. Many family battles rage over that question."

"I like some rock n'roll. Do Muggles know about Pink Floyd?"

"One of my father's favorites."

"Sometimes I think I'll dig my old wireless out, just to watch Draco Malfoy throw a fit."

"Most of us Gryffindors don't like him, you know."

"Really?" Severus joked sarcastically. "He does get on my nerves sometimes as well. If it isn't holier-than-thou in the Common Room, it's checking his hairline for hours in the prefects' bathroom."

"The great Malfoy family suffers from receding hairlines?" Hermione could hardly restrain giggles.

"Draco thinks so. I do believe that may be the result of a certain Gryffindor female's insinuation, though."

"I wouldn't put it past Lavender or Ginny."

"My money's on Ginny. With her brothers, she knows what men fear most."

"Professor, can you keep a secret?"

"Of course."

"Well, whenever Malfoy says something nasty to someone, there's this gesture Ginny and the other girls use." Blushing, Hermione showed Severus a wry little flick and wilt of the little finger. The professor looked suitably shocked and also amused by that. "Just so you don't mistake it for a hex sometime."

"I don't think I will. Do they ever use that for me?"

"Lord, no! Ginny and the others –you know what, this potion needs to be stirred."

Looking determinedly away, Hermione stirred the potion. Merlin's balls, what she had almost said…

"You do know, Miss Granger, that you have a nickname in the Serpents' Den?"

"Really?"

"Yes." Severus looked at the potion almost absently, a mischievous look growing on his face. "Care to hear it?"

"I suppose it'll be amusing."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite." Her curiousity was piqued.

"Put the ladle down first." Hermione did, and ever so quietly, Snape whispered in her ear.

"Yuck!" She did seem somewhat less than flattered by Goyle's term. "How revolting! I think I'm going to be ill! Ecch!"

"It's better than the nickname they've got for Potter and Weasley."

"No, it isn't!"

"I think 'Potty and the Weasel' is pretty bad."

"Trust me, professor, it isn't!"

"

Well, it doesn't apply since you go your teeth fixed, now, does it?"

"Think, professor! What else can that particular word mean?"

Severus thought for a moment and suddenly went red.

"Merlin's arse!"

"To say the very least!"

"I'm very sorry, Hermione."

"Why? You didn't think of it!" She started to stir the potion again and suddenly reconsidered. "I hope."

"No, I didn't think of anything so –crude."

"It's alright. I can take care of them."

"No nasty hexes in the corridors, I hope?"

"No." Hermione smiled a bit meanly. "I'll just tell Professor Cass."

"And who says you Gryffindor girls don't fight dirty?" Severus was actually amused by that method of revenge. "Cassandra is remarkably bent on annoying the Slytherins."

Hermione's curiosity overcame.

"Is she any relation to you, Professor?"

"Heavens, no, not that I know of." Severus checked the bubbling potion again. "I was just going to ask if she was related to you."

"Well, I saw that you both have dark hair and pale skin and –I sort of thought…"

"I was going by your hair and build."

"Bloody Yanks. They look like everyone."

"See, that's where the bottom falls out of the pure-blood theory, too. Cassandra Tyler could pass for a Snape just as easily as John could for a Weasley. You yourself, with a few elementary glamourie spells or some dark hair dye, could pass for a Catesby or a Zabini. You're too smart for a Goyle, but then, nobody really looks at them closely."

"Is Cass helping you spy against Voldemort, then?"

"WHAT?" Snape was suddenly on his feet. He checked the lock on the door and cast an extra Silencing Charm. "How did you know that?"

"I- well, I- back in fourth year, after the Tournament…"

"You've known all this time?"

"Well, yes."

"And you haven't let on at all?"

"Well, no, sir. You're just as much of a git in class."

"Merciful peace!" Snape sank into a chair, looking as if he had narrowly averted a heart attack. "Noone suspects?"

"If I ever defend you, the girls just assume I've got a crush on you. Their minds are in the hormonal gutter nowadays."

"What an amazing thing," Severus mused. "You didn't tell on me."

"Well, of course not! If Malfoy found out and told his father…" Hermione moved over to Snape's chair. "You might be killed."

"I used to think death would be a welcome end." Severus slumped over slightly, and Hermione couldn't help reaching for his shoulders. Softly, he put a hand on top of hers. "Miss Granger, you are the most brilliant student I have ever had."

A hissing noise suddenly interrupted them. Hermione darted back to the potion, removing it from the heat before it could boil over too far. Sensing her professor's ire, she quickly brightened her smile and opened a small jar.

"Splendid! I read something about overheating plus two newts' tails improving the potency…there we go."

"Where did you read that?" Severus inquired, sitting up sharply.

"The book you gave me, why?"

"And you remembered it? That was in footnotes, even I didn't read that until…" He crossed the floor to look at the potion, which was the perfect shade of pale violet. "Hermione, you are a genius."

"Er- thanks, Professor."

"You know, you can call me Severus," he pointed out quietly.

"Alright…Severus."

Whether it was the fumes of the potion or just fate's hand, they would never know. Either way, they drifted into a kiss. A thump on the door sounded a moment later and they flew apart.

"Per'fessor! Open up!"

"It's Hagrid!"

"Come in, man!" Snape hastily undid the locks. "Good lord!"

In his arms, Hagrid held a lean wolfhound, covered in foamy stuff and whimpering.

"She were spyin' on them damn Malfoys, she was," Hagrid explained, hurrying the animal to the utility sink in the corner. "Her tag musta said she were your hound, and Lucius made 'is 'ouse-elves give 'er a flea bath or summat!"

"Merlin's balls! Start rinsing her fur, Hagrid! Hermione, hand me that green vial, top shelf! Go find John Tyler!"

"Is that Cass?" Hermione asked, handing Snape the vial. The wolf whimpered. "Don't worry, professor, I'll go get him!" She touched the wolf's fur in what she hoped was a reassuring way, only to feel the chemicals or whatever the foam was start burning her hand. With a cry, Hermione raced off to find Cass' husband.

**************************************************

"Mr. Tyler!" Hermione finally spotted the werewolf talking with Madam Pince.

"Hermione! What's wrong?" The handsome werewolf smiled concernedly.

"It's Cass, she's got flea bath or something all over her!"

John went ashen.

"Where?"

"In the dungeon, Professor Snape's classroom!"

John suddenly ran in the direction Hermione had come, without another word. She soon found herself struggling to catch up. At length she reached the Potions room, where Cass, still a wolf, was being dried and rubbed with something by Hagrid. Snape was trying to pour a potion of some kind down her throat, but judging by Cass's reaction, it must have tasted pretty vile indeed.

"John, here! Help me get her mouth open!"

"Awrrr-rrr," the werewolf howled, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. The female wolf opened her mouth and managed to get down most of the potion. John swiftly took a blanket and wrapped it around the wolf, hugging her close as she turned back into a human. Red welts criss-crossed her face and arms, as if she had been scrubbed with turpentine. Her hair was lightened in some places from dark to a soft brown, and her eyes were red and teary.

"Hello, there, love," she mumbled, looking at the very least in pain.

"It's the Hospital Wing for you, darling," John whispered, carrying her closely. "Hagrid, Severus, Hermione…thank you all."

"Wait, John!" Snape seized a few vials from the shelves. "Here. This one reduces irritation, this one's a pain-reliever, and this one will help her sleep." The potions master slipped each vial into a different pocket of John's coat. "Get better soon, Cassandra."

"Yes, Sevvy."

The Tylers disappeared a second later. Hagrid sighed sentimentally, rubbing his hands with a towel.

"Gaw, but I love watchin' newlyweds."

"Hagrid, whenever did you get back? Dumbledore said you had to leave." Hermione was glad to see her old friend.

"Actually, 'Er-mione, I never left. Great man, Albus Dumbledore, he's lettin' me domesticate some of th' creatures in th' Forbidden Forest, 'fore You-Know-Who gets to 'em."

"Merlin's beard, look at your hand!" Snape cried. Where Hermione had touched the foamy stuff on Cass, her palm had suddenly sprouted blisters and welts. Snape hurried her to the sink and began to rinse the wounds, gently rubbing something soothing that smelled of mint into them. Hagrid handed him a clean towel, and Severus looked at Hermione's hand closely. "There, now, what do you suppose Sybill Trelawney'd make of that?"

The welts on the palm of her left hand had, weirdly, formed a star.

"Oh, I'm going to get full marks in Astronomy or something."

"We all knew that, though," Hagrid observed.

"I never had much use for Divination," Severus and Hermione remarked in unison. They glanced at each other a second later, with a look almost like affection.

"Whoa," Hagrid suddenly looked slightly uneasy. "You two've been alone together too much this week."

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A/N: Well, how was that chapter? Took me sodding long enough, eh? In my haste to get new ones out as quickly as possible, though, I have neglected to announce a few vitally important changes in my household. A while ago, we took in two new cats, in the theory that we would find good homes for them. They had belonged to a friend of my brother's, a dear girl of woefully inadequate mental prowess, whose mother wanted to abandon the cats. She assured us that they had 'seen the vet,' which in turn my brother related to my mother as 'had been spayed.' This fudge of truth was to be our downfall.
Being the emotional tower of jello that she is, Mom bonded with the new cats, who are a mother and daughter pair. We named the mother Lilli Von Schtupp, after a humorous role of the late Madeline Kahn's, and the daughter Belle Watling, because she looks like 'a dyed-haired woman.' They are both very pretty. Lilli has orangey-ginger fur and lynx-pointed ears, and Belle is a calico with white paws and bib. On Christmas morning, my sister unwrapped a jewelry box with tags for Lilli and Belle with our phone number, meaning they will stay with us forever. There were joyful tears from Kylie and generally much rejoicing from all of us.
Then one fine January morning, I noticed something. Lilli had lately gotten profoundly large about her lower section. She also had lost a great deal of her belly fur, a sign of cat pregnancy. I unearthed an old toy stethoscope and listened to her guts, whereupon I heard not only loud purring, but what sounded like lots of baby kitten hearts. Next, I held her up to my stereo, and sure enough, the kitten heartbeats sped up when I played Doobie Brothers songs. (This practice is known as 'cheap ultrasound.') I called my Auntie Carolyn, who works for a vet, and she came by and confirmed what my mother had been dreading. When Xander's friend said they were spayed, she was wrong! So, if anyone on the East Coast of America wants a nice kitten, already familiar with the nether ships of fanfiction, suitably litter-trained and fond of the Doobie Brothers, do write me an email. Also, if anyone can think of some good kitten names, throw them in your review. As soon as they get born I'll let you-all know.
-Jan McNeville