Title: A Most Singular Change
Author: Rose With Thorns
Pairing: SS/HG, hints at others later
Warnings: Minor Character Deaths
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: After a difficult year of taking her Sixth and Seventh year classes at the same time, Hermione finds herself teaching at Hogwarts and discovers she's got a surprising gift. A gift so rare and strange, she automatically fears she may not know who she really is. A gift only seen in old Pureblood lines. When all she knows is untrue and everything she loves is gone, Hermione finds that the only thing she can cling to is her foundling friendships with the Professors McGonnegal and Snape.
Only two days as a teacher and already Hermione was running as fast as she could through a thicket so dark she could barely see through.
It had been simple. Bloody simple. Madame Pomfrey was busy stocking the hospital wing, and with most of her papers already copied for the first day of school and her being nervous about teaching, Poppy sent her on a trip to the Kinross House in Tayside, a very short distance to Apparate. An acquaintance who owned the place had harvested a fresh batch of magic hellebore.
Taking a gasping breath she swore to herself she'd never be nice to anyone if she lived through this again.
Kinross House had proved to be a beautiful piece of architecture. It was three stories and made of gray stones, the roof of some material that blinded her when she looked up and the sun hit it. The rectangular home had more fireplaces than she could count with a glance as she was ushered in quickly. The gardens of the home were open to the public, but there were charms around the magical gardens.
Getting the hellebore was boring, and afterward she thought a quick trip to the town's shops would be fine. She was wrong.
Clearly, Hermione had pissed of Draco and Lucius Malfoy a few too many times. For, as she made her way into a side alley to Apparate, Hermione found herself face to face with a group of adjourning Deatheaters. One started to look up and Hermione found herself sprinting the opposite direction. She tried to make herself look calm as she made her way into a small antique shop and into the back.
The old phone booth sat in the back crammed in with tea cups on old sideboards and large tin store signs. She shut herself in and sank to the floor. Hermione knew that she was still shaky at Apparating, and the Apparation to Hogsmeade would no doubt end with her splinching herself. There had to be someone near by. A schoolmate or a teacher she could trust or a-
A teacher…
Hermione had seen a painting of Professor Snape's ancestral home. Unpredictably, it was not in or near the town of Snape. It was Burleigh Castle. She'd never been there, and had never planned on being there, but now was one of those times she didn't really care. With only the painting's rendering of the estate in her mind, she closed her eyes and Apparated.
She'd found herself in the woods nearby, and she raced towards the ruins. Once Hermione was closer, the real Burleigh Castle appeared. If it were any other time, Hermione would stand and gawk at it, but now she simply tried getting in. The large garden in front only deterred a little. Suddenly the fear of meeting one of his parents, almost assuredly a Muggle-hater, flashed through her mind. That was until a strong grip took hold of her arm.
"Who ever you are-" Hermione looked up at the owner of the deep voice, so much like the one he used to deliver a detention.
Snape looked down on her face for a moment, his eyes searching her face for some sign of recognition. Then, with an upward glance at her hair, he glared. "Miss Granger?"
Hermione gave a quick nod. "Please…Deatheaters," she managed to get out.
He dropped the spade-he had been gardening-and, still keeping a strong hold on her forearm, she could barely keep up with his long strides towards the house.
Soon she was inside the cool, dark building and a house-elf popped up at Snape's feet.
"What can Dossie do for Master and" the elf gave Hermione a quick glance. "Master's guest?"
"Not tell anyone she's here, if you want to make me happy," he snapped. Hermione opened her mouth to say something about his keeping of an elf-and there probably were more, with how old the place was-but he stopped her as they started up a set of stairs.
"I should have known that you'd try to stage a protest while you're in the middle of being attacked-foolish child." He swung her into a small room and closed the door behind them. "What are you doing here?"
"Pop-Madame Pomfrey needed hellebore. From Kinross House. I was in the town and-"
"One of them in the Ministry must have planned this for a while," he muttered. "Miss Granger, why are you without a chaperone?"
"Madame Pomfrey said it's a quick trip. It should have been, sir."
He glared at her for a moment. And Hermione found herself uncomfortable under his gaze. "I'll think next time, sir."
"Good, now clean yourself up and-" he grabbed his arm.
Hermione stared in horror as Snape doubled over, clutching blindly at his arm.
"Professor?"
"Go to Dumbledore," he said through gritted teeth. "Tell him I'm," he let out a growl and started out of the room. Hermione ran to the door. "Go!" he hollered, slamming a door behind him.
He didn't have to say it twice. She couldn't care less if she splinched herself.
Hermione now found herself racing to the gates of Hogwarts, and that she was a pretty fast runner now that puberty was long over. She didn't stop. Hermione guessed that even if she died while she was running, she was sure to reach the school on pure adrenaline.
Hagrid tried to greet her as she met him on the path, but she pushed past him and was soon climbing the stairs to Dumbledore's office after practically screaming the password.
"Professor!"
Dumbledore looked up from his desk, alarmed. "What is it, Hermione?"
She swallowed. "Professor Snape- he's been Summoned."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "What happened, Hermione?"
Hermione gave him a strange look. "I was-Deatheaters were in Kinross and came after me."
His glance seemed to suddenly make her realize what a sight she must be. There was a tear in the knee of her jeans and her bun had long since stopped keeping all of her hair back. Now that she wasn't running anywhere, she could feel the small stings of fresh scratches on her face.
"If you want, you can go 'freshen up' before explaining in detail what happened." He gave her an apologetic glance. "I'm afraid you won't be making anymore trips by yourself."
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, much better." He smiled.
How the man ever acted so calmly, even as a member of his staff was off risking his life, was something she'd never understand. He seemed to have not moved in the hour it had taken her to heal herself, clean up, and get dressed.
"Now," he licked a pen and it righted itself over the parchment. Hermione gave it a weary glance. "This, my dear, is not a Quick Notes Quill, have no fear. Now, from the beginning."
She spent a good half hour talking to the Headmaster about what happened. When it was over, she sank back into her chair.
He took the quill off of the paper and gave it a quick read through. "Headmaster," Hermione started.
"Albus," he corrected.
"Albus," that would take some getting used to. "I've noticed something…odd about me recently."
The look he gave her was unreadable. "And what exactly is that?" he said finally.
"Well, I've been doing magic without realizing it. I haven't had much of a chance to read into it because I've been getting ready for the school year."
Albus leaned back in his chair. "It happens, from time to time, when one is under stressful conditions. It's a sign in young children that they are a witch or a wizard. I know, from your papers, that you're first sign was causing things to fall off shelves."
She'd never thought anything of it. Neither had her parents, who told her it had been happening since she was three. It was a coincidence, they told her, that it only happened when she was upset.
What she had thought was her first sign had been the sudden change of a pen into a mouse. Her parents hadn't done anything because they thought it was a coincidence that her pen was gone and a mouse sat in its place. Clearly, her parents were ignorant.
"Is there any books on this in the library?"
"I do believe there is. Most of the library is being looked over, I'm afraid."
It was a common procedure for the books to be cleaned and checked over during summer hols. Madame Pince would check each page and reproduce those ripped out by students. She'd have to wait a few days, or else nag the woman who was already less than fond of the girl.
Hermione didn't know what to say, so she decided to wait for Albus to go on with the conversation, since he would.
"Severus will be alright. Madame Pomfrey will patch him up like she always does."
Hermione nodded. "If there's anything … I mean, no doubt I probably won't be able to…"
He smiled at her. "Thank you, Hermione. I will call for you if anything is needed. I need to speak with Minerva about your classroom and office, and as she won't be here until later, well, just settle in for now."
"Alright, then. Good afternoon, Albus."
Hermione spent the next few hours putting things away, furiously throwing herself into putting her books into their places, separating the ones she might use for her classes and the reference ones. If had never bothered her, the past two years, knowing that Severus Snape was out, risking his life for the Order. Of course, it wasn't as dashing as it sounded when she thought about it, but still, here she was, the worst of her worries being a misplaced book, and he was probably-
"What do you think of the rooms?"
Hermione looked up from her place on the floor to the Transfiguration teacher with a large stack of parchments. She dusted her legs off.
"They're lovely. Close enough to the library, too. Thank you very much."
"Naturally, we'll make sure your office isn't connected to your rooms, for safety's sake. And you're classroom should be near it…Oh, I should tell you, Harry's staying the summer."
"That's wonderful!" Hermione nudged Crookshanks out of her way with her foot. He'd stayed at the school after she'd left at the end of last term, and had now believed himself to own the hallways and have authority. In fact, the cat was starting to reminding her of-
"How badly was he hurt?"
She'd seen him last time. At the Order's last meeting. Pomfrey had rushed him off to the makeshift infirmary she'd set up at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had left the old house to the Order and they were trying to use it to its fullest. And then he'd just walked back in to the meeting and fought with her for a good twenty-five minutes about abstracting a sixth year from his family, since, no doubt he'd be joining the Death-eaters during the summer.
"He's being taken care of. We'll have the meeting later tonight at Grimmauld. She played with the coin in her hand. The weight and the shape were familiar.
As it should have been. Hermione charmed the coins for the Order as she had for Dumbledore's Army, now defunct. The courage she'd hoped would develop the last year hadn't, nor had she time to try to make it so.
"I started on my lesson outline…for you to check over," she nervously started to pat her hair down. Minerva had always been one of her idols; always those same old-fashioned robes, glass, and bun- set shoulders and poise. Hermione always felt mangy around her. Now, in a button down shirt with the sleeves pushed up and a worn pair of jeans, Hermione didn't feel any different.
"I've got something I want to show you." She turned and Hermione could only follow.
They were passing through the entrance to the main hall now; into the teachers' corridor and into the more worn hallway for students. Hermione tried not to let her grin show as they walked up the steps and then they were near the stairs to the dungeon. She frowned.
"Why am I?"
Minerva did not turn to descend; rather she continued past the stairs to classroom at the end of the hallway.
Her classroom.
Bright, there were plenty of windows and shelves all along the wall the entrance was on. As she entered the center of the room, she could see the office past it. Her own office.
"I thought it suited you. And Peeves tends to stay away from here. The Bloody Baron is seen around here from time to time, but they'll get used to a class being held in here."
"Minerva, it's gorgeous! I can-I mean, oh…" Hermione leaned against the desk and faced the rows of tables, dusty from not being used. She could already picture the children, mouths wide with wonder as that final piece 'clicked'…
Bill shot through the door to the kitchen, causing Hermione to take a small step back. Mr. Weasley went in, also, and at the same time, Snape came down the stairs. His usual icy coolness was effected by his slightly halted walk.
He'd been hurt badly.
Hermione hurried through the door and seated herself next to Tonks.
"How's it-" the blue haired girl started, but Hestia Jones gestured to Dumbledore.
The meetings kept getting more and more depressing, and there were already signs otherwise of the mounting tension in the Wizarding world. This one was no different. Hermione listened to a number of possible Death-eater pledges-most students she'd been in class with.
After all was said and done, they milled up to the parlor and Mrs. Weasley brought in the food. For a group of people who had such a grave responsibility, most of them seemed to have a very good appetite after meetings.
Hermione didn't. She walked over to the window to watch some Muggle construction going on across the way. A dark figure moved into the corner of her peripheral vision.
"She pledged." He said quietly. Hermione couldn't help but snort. "And killed Miss Solisky as her Initiation."
She and Snape were not close; no where near it. But hours together in the potions laboratory had taught them that they were very much alike as far as thinking went. He waited for her to collect her thoughts.
"Hyacinth," she replied.
"What?"
"She always loved them. Perfume. Wore a brooch of it enchanted. I helped her find a book for Arithmancy once."
"It's not making me feel worse, so you can stop."
Hermione turned towards him. Others in the room were involved in their own conversations, so no one saw their strange transaction. "I'm not."
"Are you still interested in that project you wished to start? Albus told me about your wish to use the extra lab."
"If you're not currently in the middle of using it for an experiment, I was going to ask you if I could utilize the room."
He watched the crane with a slight bit of interest, but she knew better. "What exactly will you be doing? If you had the room."
Hermione chewed her lip. "Albus okayed my plans for a Muggle-Wizard project. It involves Muggle artillery; and well, I'll be working with some potions and things."
"What sort of artillery?"
"Well, guns, mostly. At first, at the very least," she said brightly. "My father had a rather nice model I'll probably use. A Glock."
"I see."
That could be a yes or no, she knew, so she waited. In her dealings with Snape and other Purebloods, it was always the same; careful thought went into each word, every movement calculated.
"The room will be prepared in two days."
Hermione turned in surprise. "Thank you very much."
"However." As if she didn't know there were strings. "I will oversee your experiments. Muggle-Wizarding experiments are known to go horribly wrong. No doubt a lesser trained witch like yourself needs supervision."
She'd simply ignore the insult.
"Thank you, very much, Professor."
Madame Pinch gave Hermione a long, hard look as Hermione clutched the requested book to her chest.
"That's from the Restricted Section, you know," the librarian said stiffly. Hermione had picked it up as soon as she'd turned her back. "It'll need to be back before school starts."
"Madame Pince, I promise to return it as soon I finish preparing for my lessons."
What was it that Minerva had said about not making enemies? So she hadn't really listened.
She left quickly, the staunch woman's dagger-glare on her back as unsettling as it had been in the past six years. Honestly, a few books not returned on time and one would think she was leaving dung bombs in the library (a staggering blow last year when a fan of the Weasley twins decided to do so).
In reality, the book was for her own personal use. The subject of wandless magic was bothering her more, especially since each day passing was one day less to get it under control. The last thing she wanted was some sort of chaos created because of it. The book was the first in a series she'd probably need to be satisfied, but taking them all at one blow would raise suspicions.
It did not take her long to settle into her seat in front of her fire. Her rooms were one the western side of the building, and they stayed cool, not only because of that but also because of the schools enchantment. The fire gave that extra bit of warmth she found inviting.
Crookshanks was batting at the enchanted ball of string she'd just charmed, and a good cup of tea sat within her reach. She was now ready to begin.
The book was in French, and if she was Harry, she'd have given up or asked herself for help. However, the advantages of having a French mother were making themselves evident; she'd grown up asking for not only her 'mother' but her 'mè re'.
With her free hand, she copied down what she needed to know.
The minute hand of her watch had nearly made its way around the face for a third time when she set down her book, her hand cramped and covered with graphite. Hermione still had affections for Muggle pencils; they never required dipping and were simply less likely to break than ink bottles.
The results of the reading were depressing. There was never a Muggle-born or non Pureblood to be able to perform wandless magic, and now Hermione was realizing that any of the other books she'd possibly taken out at a later date would not help her more than the one she had now. Secretive, that's what they were.
A glance at her doorway took her by surprise; the novelty of being able to see enchantments was still strange. They were like glittering threads, intertwining and dancing around the door knob.
The other book, open since yesterday to the potion, lay on the floor underneath her chair, out of stumbling distance, and now it called to her.
It wouldn't hurt to try out the experiment…would it?
She'd just set up a cauldron in her office. Snape wouldn't know (the key to the storage room had been dropped, unceremoniously, at her door earlier while reading).
But her bed looked so tempting…
Author's Notes:,
Kinross
The town: www.kinross.cc/index.htm
I found it while looking for Snape's estate. I don't know if there's really an antique shop directly in the village where they have shops, or if they have one of those old phone booths in it. Or if there's an alley with Lucius and the Deatheaters (oh, that should be a band!) there, either.
Kinross Gardens and Kinross House:
Found this through a link on the site above. The house really isn't open to the public. It's owned by the Montgomery family. I'm not saying that they practice witchcraft, are witches and wizards, or have anything to do with this fic. I simply borrowed their house.
Burleigh Castle
I found it on #burleigh initially, and then found pictures of it at It's ruins, but who says that's what it really is? Well, that was my original thought, and then I found pictures someone took of it inside, but give me a break. I tried.