Changes Made

Chapter Four

In his office, Snape sifted through paper and bits of parchment, sometimes finding pieces of particularly painful student-written essays, attempting to re-organise his desk. So far, it hadn't gone at all well. With a growl, Snape levitated his wastebasket to his side and began to sweep things into it. When he looked for his grade book, however, Snape was forced to make a sort of dive back into the overflowing basket to retrieve it.

Now thoroughly exasperated, Snape sank into his chair to collect himself. He couldn't get rattled about all of this. It was a simple supplementary class for a couple of students. This wasn't going to be the crisis he imagined. But if that was so, why did he feel so damned uneasy? Taking a deep breath, Snape reached for his grade book. He began to sort through it, removing notes made to himself, more ridiculous essays, and an important looking piece of parchment with an emerald green seal upon it. Snape opened it and immediately recognised the tight, forced script of Lucius Malfoy. Yes, he remembered this letter.

Severus,

I understand that my son has been having trouble in one or two of his classes. This must not continue. I trust that you will take the necessary steps to avoid my presence at Hogwarts. Also, I am sure you have noticed that the serpent is once more venturing from his den. Tread warily.

Lucius

Of course Lucius would worry about his spoiled son and his grades. Nothing less than top marks, or else. What would the boy be doing after school, Snape wondered. He had expressed interest in a job with the Ministry, and being the intelligent, if somewhat cruel boy that he was, Draco Malfoy would probably go a very long way. His talent in Potions would no doubt be useful as a Mediwizard, perhaps or a supplier of draughts and such for special Ministry operations. If only he weren't so self-centred. He tended to toy with people, charm them and then ignore them completely, bending them slowly to his will.

That last couple of phrases in the letter went straight to Order Headquarters, even though they weren't very useful, but the "tread warily" bit was slightly disturbing. How much did Lucius suspect? Or perhaps the Dark Lord himself? Or perhaps it had merely been a warning to stay out of the way of Barty Junior – difficult, as he hadn't known Barty was even at the school. A knock at the door interrupted these thoughts.

"Come in," Snape said shortly, getting to his feet. Poppy Pomfrey entered the room rather stiffly, looking around with a touch of distaste that she hid neatly when she began to speak.

"Professor Sprout informs me that the Tarantacula fangs have been harvested and are ready for use."

"Please tell her I said thank you," Snape said, meeting Madam Pomfrey's eyes.

"Also," Madam Pomfrey continued, "I was hoping you might make me a batch of those Pepper-up Potions, and a few for summer colds. I'm running quite low."

"Very well," Snape nodded, making a mental note of it. With a nod, Madam Pomfrey left again. Snape sighed to himself and looked around. On the walls were rows of shelves were jars of preserving fluid held several rare and even extinct magical animals and insects. Some of the jars held fluid that kept the animals paralysed and unconscious, not dead, meaning that at any moment, one could revive them for use. The room was admittedly not well lighted, and he supposed it must look quite imposing and unpleasant. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine himself how others must see him. It wasn't a very welcoming image by any means. A pale, hook-nosed man, tall with dark eyes and dark clothing that flapped about imperiously when he walked, finished off my a mop of greasy hair that looked all-too unbecoming.

Snape brought a hand up to touch his hair with a sudden thought. He remembered the book he'd been reading before He had been interrupted by the house elf's message delivery. Perhaps it was time for a change in his life. It had been a long time since anything had changed for Snape. He strode from his office with a new purpose.

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Hermione had spent the rest of her afternoon finishing her homework and petting Crookshanks. At about five-thirty, Griselda flew into her room and landed on the birdcage with a hoot of amazement at her new surroundings. Hermione untied the letter from the owl's leg with a flutter of excitement.

Dear Hermione,

I hope you're well. Nothing much is happening here, but it's better than last summer. Dudley is finally losing weight, so Aunt Petunia is being a little more lax with his diet. We actually have bags of crisps hanging around now, even if they are fat-free. No new scar pangs, no news from the Order. Plenty of time to do my homework, though. I expect you've finished yours. Tell Crookshanks hello, and nice owl, by the way. She and Hedwig are already great pals.

Harry

Hermione closed the letter with a smile. Light-hearted without the merest hint of anxiety or loneliness. How very Harry. She made a mental note to send him some proper snacks as soon as possible, and none of those sugar-free things her parents insisted upon. This room-painting business was really going to her head!

............

When her parents came home at six, Hermione had dinner waiting on the table. They sat down for another quiet meal accompanied with light, meaningless chatter. The table was cleared, and one made-for-television movie later, Hermione excused herself to bed. Up in her room, Hermione pulled a drawing pad from a desk and began to sketch clothing designs that she'd seen in one of the magazines at the supermarket. It seemed that her wardrobe as well as her room would be receiving a makeover.

An hour or so later, Hermione heard her mother coming up the stairs. Again she employed the drink of water ruse. As much fun as it would have been to see the look on her mother's face, she decided that she would be more able to enjoy it in the morning. With that, Hermione wished her mother good night and went to bed.

"Oh my sainted aunt!" A horrified voice woke Hermione the next morning, Her mother stood in the doorway to her room with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide in shock. "George! George come here!" Hermione's father rushed up the stairs to join his wife in the doorway.

"Good Lord," he said calmly. "When did this happen?"

"The past two days," Hermione explained with a yawn. "I got tired of the white."

"But this is blood-coloured!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed. "How is it any better?"

"No, mum," Hermione said with a small smile. "It's Gryffindor-coloured. You always wanted me to show a bit more school spirit."

"That was your father!" Mrs. Granger cried shrilly. "Oh dear. Do the neighbors know about this?"

"How could they? They were all off at work while I was working. Besides, what business is it of theirs what colour my bedroom is?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"It's the principle of the thing!" Mrs. Granger squeaked. "They'll think I have no standards! Oh, I don't know what they'll think, but I'm sure it won't be good. George, I need to leave this room." Mr. Granger stepped out of the way. His wife hurried from her daughter's bedroom, hand held to her forehead.

"How did you, er, finance this particular project?" Mr. Granger asked with interest.

"My allowance from the past two years," Hermione answered.

"Well, at least I know what you spent it on," Mr. Granger said optimistically. "Now, while I am not perhaps as upset as your mother seems to be, I am a bit perturbed as to why you didn't ask us for permission beforehand."

"For one thing, I knew mum would never let me paint it like this. For another, I wanted to do it on my own," Hermione explained simply. Her father sighed.

"While I understand completely," Mr. Granger began, (Do you, Hermione thought.) "I wish you had asked first. Now your mother is all upset. How about no more changes to the house without permission, all right?"

"Sure, dad," Hermione said dully. Of course her mother was upset! Her daughter had decided to do things her own way for once. What a nasty shock that would be, Hermione thought, rather sullenly. "Why was she up here, anyway?" Mr. Granger held out a letter.

"This arrived for you this morning. Lovely tawny sort of owl, but left feathers on the windowsill. Annoyed your mother and all."

"Right." Hermione took the letter.

"Maybe it would be better if I took your mother to work right away. Give her some time to cool off, what?"

"Right," Hermione said again. "Have a good day, dad."

"See you this evening, sweetheart." Mr. Granger left, and a moment later, Hermione heard the front door open and close. A car motored out of the driveway. She watched her parents drive away, feeling inwardly triumphant. Maybe they'd take more notice now. Unlikely, but possible. With that, Hermione opened the letter and read it quickly.

Not quite believing what she'd just read, Hermione read it a gain. Her jaw nearly hit the floor. Surely this was a joke!

Dear Miss Granger,

It is my wish that you attend Occlumency classes with Professor Snape starting one week before start-of-term. It may interest you to know that your friend Harry Potter will also be taking this class. Please owl me your response no later than July 31st. I hope you are having a lovely summer.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster

This would take some thinking over.

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A/N: Sorry this took so long! I am hoping my section dividers will show up this time. I'll check on it later, though. I'm sort of busy. Expect a chappie with both of out heroes together v. v. soon! I promise!