Hermione's fury lasted through the rest of her seventh year. NEWTs came and went, classes ended, the halls were full of crying and hugging students, but she remained oblivious to it all. Harry and Ron had begun to avoid her, and even Crookshanks seemed to stay out of her dorm more than usual. If anyone noticed that she wasn't going to Potions class anymore, no one said anything. The rest of her classes, including the NEWTs, were impossibly easy, yet Hermione still worried about her scores. Had she made any stupid mistakes, skipped any problems accidentally, unwittingly written a History of Magic essay on why she hated Severus Snape rather than the Merpeople uprising of 1788?
Her mind was severely twisted by anger and worry and she spent the majority of her last month at Hogwarts in her room, trying to escape from the over sentimental slop that seemed to drip from the ceiling in the commons.
On the day of the leaving feast, a letter from her parents only made matters worse.
Dearest Hermione,
We are hoping that this reaches you in time. Even after seven years, the Owl Post is still a bit new to us.
Your father and I just wanted to write to you and tell you how very proud we are of you. You've exceeded our expectations since your birth and we know you will always continue to do so. The only thing we regret about the past seven years is that you have not been home, and we have not gotten to see you nearly as much as we would have liked. But it helped to ease our troubled minds to know that you are happy at Hogwarts, and you are safe (and in the company of the handsome Weasley fellow. Are you two still an item? If so, don't tell your dad. He's still a bit uppity about how Krum dumped you.)
Also, what is on the front for the news about your future? Last time you told us anything about it, you informed us that you wanted to do some research for the use of medical Potions. Is that still your plan?
I suppose that you do not need to reply, we will talk to you when you arrive tomorrow afternoon. Enjoy your last day of school, and we look forward to seeing you.
Love,
Mum and Dad
She was at a loss at deciding what annoyed her more: her mother's assumption that she and Ron had been, and possibly still were, a so-called "item", the callous mention of her break up with Krum, or the fact that she no longer had any clue what she was going to do now that she was graduating. Medicinal Potion making was no longer an option; she had received an incomplete in the class and hadn't been given the opportunity to take the NEWT. Any other career that had ever appealed to her had one thing in common: they required high marks on the Potions NEWT.
In short, Severus Snape had ruined her life.
When Ron came to her room to visit her, hoping that she might be in a better mood, his hopes were quickly tossed down the stairs with the first words that came out of her mouth.
He knocked softly on the door.
"Who is it?" Her voice was strained, and he heard a soft thunk from inside followed by an irritated hiss from Crookshanks.
"Ron."
"Oh." She made no effort to mask her disappointment. "Come in, it's open."
He slowly opened the door, only to have it jerked back by an escaping ginger cat. Hermione sat on her bed, her trunk open at her feet, with clothing, paper, and what looked like the whole of the school library surrounding her. She was rolling up a poster of what appeared to be Albus Dumbledore reading a book and finished by securing it with a poke of her wand.
Ron stood in the doorway, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his robes and hiding the reddening tips of his ears with his shoulders. "Is something wrong, Hermione?"
"No." Ron jumped as Hermione dropped a very heavy tome into her trunk. "Nothing."
"Oh come on, I've been friends with you long enough to tell that when a girl says "nothing", it's usually everything."
"Well aren't you the perceptive one." She continued making loud, disturbing noises as she carelessly dropped everything into her trunk.
Ron frowned and edged forward carefully, afraid that she might think that he, instead, might be a better container to pack her things in.
"This has something to do with Snape, doesn't it?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "You haven't been normal since he kept you after class. And you didn't even show up for NEWTs! I almost had a heart attack."
She didn't answer his question and continued to pack her things. "You can help me, you know."
He groaned and edged down beside her, beginning to fold clothes and put them chaotically in her trunk.
"Ron." A hint of a growl had edged into her voice, suddenly reminding him of Snape. Disturbing. "You can do better than that."
He shrugged. "Not like you are."
"You're already packed?"
"Yep."
"Here." She shoved a letter into his hands. It was folded and crumpled badly, and it looked as though Hermione might have held it near the fire. He stared at it, squinting, trying to make out the faint pencil lines. Hermione stared at him expectantly as he read, and he could feel her eyes burning holes in the back of his hands.
He finally looked up, after Hermione had been able to read over it five more times, and looked as though he was trying to hold back a secretive smile. "Your mum thinks I'm handsome?"
She grabbed the letter from his hands in a flourish and threw it in the trunk, tossing a shirt over it. "Oh, honestly!"
Ron picked up one of her bras and blushed a bright red. She snatched that from his hands also and threw it in, not looking as embarrassed as he felt. "Just a question," he muttered. "How can you do research in medicinal Potions if you didn't take the NEWT?"
"Yes, that seems to be the problem, doesn't it?"
"What happened?"
A side swept glare left Ron feeling that he probably shouldn't have asked. "Nothing…I'll figure it out eventually. I would kind of like to spend some time alone right now, if that's all right."
Ron flung another bra into the trunk and climbed to his feet, sighing. "You've spent the entire last month and a half alone. Don't you want to be with your friends?"
"No, not particularly."
Ron let out another sigh and lifted his arms in surrender. "Fine! Whatever you say, your honor." He rolled his eyes and started for the door. Before he stepped outside he whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at her. "But you're coming to the Burrow for at least a week this summer." She opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her with an outstretched hand. "No excuses."
Hermione grumbled as he left and continued to pack her belongings into her trunk, not wanting to but also getting rather tired of being in this place. At school. The thought was a foreign one. For her entire life, school was something she loved, something she looked forward to, and one greasy git had ruined it completely for her. She didn't want to go home, because her parents - her mother, particularly - would find it overly amusing to tackle her half to death with question she didn't know the answers to. All she wanted to do was be left alone, which also was not a possibility as she couldn't get a job and she doubted her parents would support her decision to move out of their house right after school.
She left out her clothes for the next day and her pajamas for the night and laid them on the sofa against the wall of her room. Her trunk clanked shut and flew to the end of her bed at her bidding, prepared for the long train ride the next day. She was itching to Apparate, she had had her license for almost a year and had hardly any opportunity to use it, but the train ride was customary and her parents would be waiting for her at King's Cross.
She collapsed on her bed and took a deep breath, mind clearing into a complete blank. She just didn't know anymore.
There was only one solution. She had to talk to Dumbledore.
Hermione watched as a dark strain of tea freed itself from the pot and splashed into the delicate china cup. A few overzealous drops escaped the stream and fell to the table, only to be swept up later by wrinkled, shaking fingers and absorbed into the chapped skin.
"Please calm down, Miss Granger," Dumbledore told her, pushing the cup toward her. She stared at him for a minute, almost as if she thought him untrustworthy, but took the cup and held it to her lips. He looked older, she decided. Older than he had been during Voldemort's return. She had thought that he would somehow regenerate after His final death, but it seemed he had instead done the opposite and deteriorated beyond repair. His hands visibly shook now, and his voice was not as strong and attention-seeking as it had once been. It was dry with the sporadic tumble of a cough. But his bright eyes still remained, the single heir of his aging self, his signature twinkle in place, unmoved.
Hermione tapped on the sides of the teacup, staring determinedly at the desk with uplifted eyebrows and her lips pursed in irritation. "I don't know how to calm down. I don't know what I'm going to do."
"Do for what, my dear?" He twisted the end of his beard around a long, pale finger, leaning back in his chair. "What has gotten you so angry? This is your last day at Hogwarts, you should be with your friends, not sitting in the Headmaster's office."
"That's not a possibility. Ron spends his whole time practicing…for Quidditch, of course."
"Ah, yes. He was taken in by the Chudley Cannons, correct?"
"Sort of." Hermione shrugged and set the teacup on the table, figuring that if she kept fiddling with it she'd end up spilling the remains of the contents down the front of her robes and, most likely, some of it would end up in the mass of her hair. "He's a trainer. They're going to work him incredibly hard before he actually gets to play. It will be a few years."
"Well, good for him. And Harry's starting at the Ministry?"
Hermione couldn't hold back the yowl that sounded remarkably like Crookshanks. "Yes, a bit ironic, isn't it?"
Dumbledore smirked. "Just a bit. Maybe he can straighten Fudge out."
"I doubt it. I don't think he's in a high enough position yet to even lick his boots. At least in Fudge's mind." Seeing the puzzled look on Dumbledore's face, Hermione added, "He's a delightful old codger, isn't he?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh, yes. I agree completely."
Hermione's smile faded and she picked up the teacup again, desperate for something to do with her hands. "That's the problem. Everyone knows what they are going to do. Except me."
"That's not true. Weren't you planning to do some research on…what was it, Potions?"
She swallowed and ran her tongue across her teeth, trying to bring moisture back into her mouth. "Yes, that was the plan. But it has since become an impossibility."
The Headmaster cocked his head to the side. "Why?" A look from the girl confirmed what he had suspected. He had been walking with Severus once when they had passed by her in the corridor, and the glance between the two made him feel as if he had just dove into a ghost. "Ah, Severus was giving you trouble."
"Just a bit." Dumbledore noticed that her mood was darkening progressively. He wasn't doing what he had hoped. "It's my fault really. I was being an idiot."
"I find that quite hard to believe."
"Well, that's Snape for you," she shot back, rolling her eyes. Dumbledore chose to ignore the disrespectfulness of her tone. "I was the biggest imbecile in his class, as far as he was concerned, even though I received the best marks and was usually the only one who knew what she was doing."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "I always thought he was rather fond of you."
Hermione snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure I was his favorite imbecile."
Dumbledore sighed and laced his fingers across his stomach, beginning to twiddle his thumbs. "Is that truly why you came here, though, Miss Granger? To complain about our dearly beloved Potions master?"
"Not necessarily. I was wondering if you could…" The request was a painful blow. She could already feel it eating away the top layer of her pride. "…if you could possibly employ me. Temporarily, of course, just so I can have a room and some food to eat…"
His eyes narrowed in concern. "Has something happened at home, Hermione?"
"No, no, nothing like that." She paused as Dumbledore gave an audible sigh of relief. "I would just like to improve on my education for a time after Hogwarts, and that's not possible at home…with Muggles. I love my parents dearly, but they're not the type that would help my magic flourish." He nodded in understanding. "And I enjoy solitude. I barely have time to read at home…all the outings…" she gave him a hint of a smile. "…all the chores. I hate to admit it, but sometimes I'm glad that Hogwarts has house elves."
"It sounds like it could work," he replied thoughtfully, leaning back toward her and ignoring her admittance that worked against all her previous beliefs on her dear house elves. "How about this: I'll talk to a few of the staff members, Minerva, Poppy, possibly Sybill," He ignored Hermione's flinch. "and I'll talk to you tomorrow morning and tell you what you could do."
Hermione smiled in relief. "That would be wonderful." Well, it would be, as long as she wasn't stuck dusting crystal balls and could stay as far away from Snape as long as possible. It shouldn't be too hard, as long as she kept out of the dungeons. She knew where he lurked and she knew what places to avoid.
She went back to her room in a new type of euphoria. She felt independent, free, with new thoughts of a teaching career roaming in her mind. Would Dumbledore ever let her be a Professor, even if she didn't have a NEWT in Potions? She had to admit, being a Professor wouldn't be that bad. Not her top choice, but definitely not her bottom one, either.
The rest of the night passed smoothly and she even allowed herself to sniffle a bit at the Leaving Feast. She tried to ignore Harry's wide grin and elation over her change of behavior, but it didn't work very well. She was even able to tolerate Ron's kiss (a bit over-friendly) when he walked her back to her dorms. Even Crookshanks couldn't bother her, tonight.
She had expected to see him curled up on her pillow, waiting for her return with one open eye. But he wasn't on her bed, and she couldn't hear any random purr or whimper of a dream anywhere in the shadows.
Then she heard it. A growl. Something large and ginger colored was pacing in front of the window, head turned upward to the closed glass. It was pitch black outside, the stars blanketed by thick, dark clouds.
"What is it, Crooks?"
The cat's bottlebrush tale twitched in agitation and his ears were laid back on his head, an expression that made Hermione nervous. Crookshanks was intelligent, she knew that, and when he sensed that something was wrong, odds were that something was wrong.
Hesitantly, she opened the window and jumped back as something large and black flew in, brushing the curtains and her hair with a gentle sweep of its midnight wings. It was a monstrously large raven, and it squawked noisily and found a landing place on a lamppost next to Hermione's bed, obviously pleased that it was out of the reach of Crookshanks. Hermione was caught in a stare down with its intense yellow eyes before she noticed it had something tied to its leg.
"Oh." The cat gave an irritated yowl as she carefully approached the bird and untied the neatly folded parchment from its foot. It gave her a glare that made her feel as if she was being looked through and immediately swept through the window, disappearing into the night. Hermione unfolded the parchment carefully, fingers shaking. "Who on earth is this from…and who would own a raven instead of an owl? Probably someone with a beastly ego…"
Crookshanks leapt on the bed and leaned against her in a plea for attention. She gave his head an absent pat as he still watched the open window, waiting for the ugly intruder's return. He didn't notice Hermione's mouth fall open as she read it, then read it again in disbelief. Her fingers traced the lettering, noticing how disconcertingly familiar it looked.
She read it aloud in a whisper, as if making her cat listen to it would make it less true.
"'Dear Miss Granger'," she said, her voice dry. "'Please meet me in my office at 11pm. And be on time, I will not tolerate tardiness. Professor Snape.' What on earth…"
Crookshanks just butted her hand for attention, obviously undisturbed by the note. Hermione glanced at the clock and noticed that it was 10:50, and it would be better for her to leave soon if she didn't want to experience his wrath for one final time. She shrugged a cloak off her shoulders and ignored Crookshanks as he batted her feet, annoyed that she was leaving. As she left her room, one final thought kept recycling in her head: "Why in Merlin's name would Severus Snape want to see me on my graduation night?"
Thanks to: Joshua Glass (mmm, crescent roll), c[R]ud[E]dly (wow, you don't like fairy tales? Weird, I've grown up obsessed with them. Thank you for your kind review, considering :)), Aurorablue, cookiesNcreme03 (wow, just from the prologue? Hope it sticks with what you'll see (hear about?) later), Anarane Anwamane, krisleigh, aNNiiesNapez, KDarkMaiden, Moon Assassin 13, Yenne Loreana, Zephyre (I think Snape really does have a melodramatic soul), Meriadoc / Celithrathien (one of the reasons I like Hermione so much...she's me. I'm very relieved that my portrayal of her is accurate in your eyes. And with Snape...don't worry, he's not planning on calling her by her first name again), Lacewing (erm...hope the story gets better or Hermione's situation? Lol), Dues Ex (M'dear, do you like the SS/HG ship or not? Lol, your idea on it seems to be swinging around quite a lot. You also must remember that Wonk likes older men :). By the way, I'm going to keep the title. It fits in with the last story and it kind of already stuck. Cheers), Valerie, Bambu (I've never seen the French version, though I have seen the Disney one in French :). I think I'm going to be slightly following along the lines of the Disney version (a rare Disney film in which I could find very few faults), because I love it dearly. Il est neccessaire que je lit/vois "La Belle et la Bette", aussi.), and Akasha Ravensong (they're better bad, aren't they? Mmm...).
Extra, extra thanks to my new beta, Saskia. Find her at fanfiction.net/~laiagarien