Changes Made

Chapter Six

"Oof!" Hermione hit the ground hard. The person who had shoved her roughly from the path of the car stood, and grasping her hand firmly, pulled her shakily to her feet. She knew there was something familiar about his figure, but Hermione didn't recognise him immediately as his face was turned away from her. He seemed to be staring rather angrily after the blue car, which had turned another corner. Hermione heard sirens coming and looked to see a disgruntled-looking police man shooting after him on a motorcycle. The man before her shook his head and turned back to her. Hermione gasped, her eyes suddenly wide.

Although his hair was now clean and pulled back into a bit of a tail, and the skin was definitely not as pale as in past times, the hooked nose and severe dark eyes belonged only to one person. Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stood looking at Hermione with a closed, calm face, seeming to disregard her expression entirely. He lifted her right hand, pulling her arm straight, and gently rolled up the sleeve, examining it for injury. All he found was a small scratch and some slight swelling, which would later become a bruise. He pressed his fingers gently around the bruise, causing Hermione to wince.

"Can you move your arm?" he inquired gruffly. Hermione tested it gingerly.

"Yes," she replied, looking up at him.

"You'll live. Pay attention next time." And before Hermione could say anything else, he had turned the corner down the street and was gone.

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

Everything now hung in her closet, pressed and ready to wear, still smelling slightly floral from the washing soap. It was all Hermione could do not to try it all on again. Below that, a neat row of shoes sat on the floor, the old black loafers now joined by new trainers and sandals, and even a pair of gleaming heels. Mr. and Mrs. Granger arrived in the driveway. Hermione shut her closet and strode briskly down the stairs to meet her parents at the door.

Still nursing her arm a bit, Hermione prepared the evening meal and set the table, inviting her parents to the kitchen. Hermione's parents' chatter was not disruptive to her own thoughts, which she did not share with her family.

She couldn't keep her mind off of Snape. The gentleness in his manner as he examined her arm was nearly lost in his closed face. Of course, it could just have been routine, medical indifference, but he hadn't ever shown her anything but coldness and insults before. In typical Snape style, he hadn't stayed around even long enough to thank him. Strangely enough, Hermione found that she wanted to thank him, at least a little bit. It could wait until she saw him again, she supposed, but found the idea of waiting that long rather rude. It couldn't wait, she decided, and made a mental note to write him a letter.

Thinking back on the changes in his appearance, Hermione couldn't be anything but pleased. The hair was much better, and he didn't look quite so ghostly as before. It was...nice, and odd word to be using to describe Snape, but nonetheless. That day in town he had been decidedly nice. Hermione found herself curious, however, as to why he had been there at all. It was certainly a coincidence, and a well-timed one at that.

Supper finished and Mrs. Granger helped her daughter clear the table, clinking dishes together as she placed them in the sink.

"Did you have a good day, dear?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

"Pardon?" Hermione looked up from the plate she was fidgeting with.

"Did you have a good day, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked again.

"Oh, yes," Hermione answered, hurrying to collect the rest of the dishes from the table. "I finished a project I've been working on. Everything is ready for school now, except of course, for this year's books and all. Watch that pot!" Thus distracted, Mrs. Granger forgot all about the subject of Hermione's day.

Hermione excused herself to bed not long afterwards, petting Crookshanks who had his nose buried in his food bowl. In her room, Hermione found Griselda helping herself to some owl-nibblets in the open birdcage. On her desk was a letter from Dumbledore. Hermione opened it quickly.

Dear Miss Granger,

I am most pleased that you have accepted the invitation to take this class. I am sure you will enjoy it very much. However, you are quite correct that furthering your education is not the only thing on my cluttered-up mind. I would most appreciate it if you took every care to encourage Harry to practice, work hard, and learn all he can from or Potions Master. This, as you probably understand from last year, is vital.

On the 24th of August, the Hogwarts express will be waiting for you at Platform 9 3/4 at 10 o'clock sharp. The castle will of course be providing you with the comforts you are used to, as well as a sort of relaxation of the regular school-time rules. Thank you again for your help in this matter. I hope you enjoy the class, difficult as the subject may be, as I know this will come as no obstacle to you. Until the 24th!

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster

No sooner had Hermione finished reading this than a snowy white owl glided silently into the room and, dropping another letter before Hermione, settled onto the desk beside her, nudging a stray quill with her beak, hooting softly.

Hello, Hedwig. Owl treat?" Hermione offered one from the decorative tin on her desk. Hedwig took it, with a hoot of thanks and settled down to wait. Obviously, Hermione decided, Harry's letter required a response.

Hermione,

Please tell me that you are actually going to take those Occlumency classes with me. Dumbledore said you were, but I just want to make sure you haven't changed your mind or anything. I'm not sure I'd be able to stand it on my own. And please, don't expect me to practice too hard, alright? I know it's important, especially after last year, but there's a lot of stuff I don't really want to remember right now. You know what I mean.

Hermione sighed. Of course.

I hope you're having an all right summer. Has anything exciting happened to you yet? When are you planning to hit Diagon Alley? I should be able to talk my aunt and uncle into driving me to London. After the Howler Aunt Petunia got last year, they aren't anxious to make me sweat in any great capacity. Hedwig will hang around until you've written back...no comment on your punctuality, just that she needs some time away from here.

See you,
Harry

Hermione immediately pulled a sheet of parchment from her desk and began a response to her friend.

Dear Harry,

You'll never believe who I ran into, or rather, who ran into me in town today...

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

After finding Mundungus Fletcher and informing him that the so-called precious gems were really only good imitations, and that the one behind it was Lucius Malfoy, probably trying to buy off somebody or another, Severus Snape apparated to the Hogwarts gates.

"Severus Snape," he said loudly to the wrought-iron in front of him. After a moment's hesitation they creaked inward, allowing Snape to enter the grounds. It seemed that they, too, had noticed his new look. The most that he saw on his trek up to the castle was a blue-tinted squirrel that shot across his path, tail smoking as it fled from something in the forest. Beyond that part of the path came the manicured grounds that swept gloriously upwards to the towering castle. It really was remarkable how formidable the grounds made the castle look. Although few of the windows were lit, the castle seemed to glow, reflecting the setting sun on it's walls and spires. The lake, cupped by the lawns, glittered as well, the surface disturbed by something large looming just below the surface. The walk was long, however, giving Snape plenty of time to think.

He couldn't help wondering a bit why he'd been so willing to leap about the street pushing people out of oncoming traffic. Of course, as a witch, Hermione Granger wouldn't have been badly hurt, but thinking about it, he hadn't noticed it was her until just before he'd thrown himself into the air. So what did that mean? Perhaps working for the Order of the Phoenix had rubbed off on him. The expression on her face when she'd seen it was him had been one of shock, as if she hadn't thought him capable of such an action. Or perhaps that he was incapable of such action on her behalf. Or perhaps it was the surprise of seeing him without the robes or greasy hair. Or perhaps, it was the realisation that she had nearly been struck by a vehicle moving at high speed that had made her look as though something slimy had just hopped into her mouth.

Snape had been examining her arm when that surprised expression had faded from her features. She had been watching him, eyes flicking from her arm to his face as he moved his fingers gently on her smooth, soft skin. Her eyes, when hit just right by the light, glowed, it seemed, or perhaps it was his imagination. He'd been almost sorry to have hurt her when she winced at his touch on her bruising abrasions, which was an odd feeling. Snape had never felt anything but a slight disdain for her know-it-all mentality. Maybe more than slight, he thought, so why had he felt himself melting a little as he examined her for that short time? It hadn't been more than five minutes altogether. Better perhaps to put it from his mind, to forget about the colour of her eyes and the length of her lashes and the grace with which she moved, even after being knocked roughly to the sidewalk. Better to think about why Lucius Malfoy was daring to dip his pristine fingers into the muddy mirk of gem trafficking.

Malfoy had always had his own reasons for everything...or so he liked others to believe. It was Snape's personal opinion that Malfoy always acted upon what he thought would draw others into his power or help him climb the power ladder of the dark community, both, if at all possible, and he didn't care what he had to do to get what he wanted. Smuggling fake gems across England. What could he be doing? As Snape had told Fletcher, he was probably buying someone off or trying to purchase favours and trust. That would last as long as no one discovered that the stones were really glass. Of course, it was also possible that Malfoy himself didn't know, in which case the blame would fall on his suppliers, who ever they were, and that would be nearly impossible to trace. However, Snape secretly prided himself on his ability to trace trails gone dead. From his pocket, Snape pulled a smallish-sized "gem" and held it up. He'd palmed it when he picked up the first stone to examine and simply hadn't returned it afterwards.

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

Alone in his room, Snape lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The blanket wrinkled under him and he twitched it back smooth. The silence pressed in on him from all sides, pressing him into the thin mattress. He shut his eyes. Bad move. Now there wasn't anything to distract him from one thought that surfaced and resurfaced in his mind. This had gone on long enough. It was time for the loneliness to end.

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

A/N: Hello everyone. I suppose cliffhangers must be effective....my eyebrows still feel slightly singed from the merry little flames I've been recieving. I didn't really intend for it to turn out that way, but it was more fun to write it that way. Now, as far as Dursleyish Grangers go, you may have noticed that 1.) Mrs. Granger is concerned for Hermione's welfare whilst the Dursleys aren't that much for Harry's (effects of Howlers not included) and 2.) Mr. Granger didn't fly off the broom handle quite so much as his wife did and in fact wants Hermione to have a bit of fun and independence, just without upsetting his wife in the process. It seems to be the opposite at my house.... At this point, Mrs. Granger is just sort of alarmed because her only child isn't being as sweet and submissive as usual. It's scary when your kids start acting on their own: ask any mum in the world! Right, well, my feet are sort of chilly right now. I want to go put on some socks (not Dobby-knitted though) and get to work on the next installment. Until another day!