The Heiress: Chapter 4

Note: This is a short interlude from the craziness of Hermione's situation. Seen through the eyes of four year old Justine Snape. And for the record, the review that is signed fuchsiasteerpike is actually from my friend Debby, so even though it's almost as bad as reviewing your own story, I didn't review my own story, Debby did and I forgot to sign out of my account before she did.

"She was someone new," I tell Mitzy, as she pours another too cold bucket of water over my head.

"I wouldn't knows if she was, Missus."

"Well, she was…I like her."

"That's nice, Missus."

"Was Papa worried about me?" I ask, knowing that he probably wasn't.

"I doesn't speak of the master without his permission, especially not to a little missus like yourself."

"You're my house-elf too, Mitzy, you answer to me as well!" I can feel myself getting a little angry. I don't like it when people treat me like I don't matter, I just don't. Especially when the person treating me like I don't matter is a house-elf like Mitzy. She hates me.

"I only answer to Master, Ibsen is your house-elf."

"Then I'll ask him."

"You may."

Much to my usual routine, I am dressed for dinner. I wish I was away with the faeries right now, they don't care if you're clean for the dinner table or not. Papa, however, does. He is always going on and on about tidiness, and how I shame the family running around wild and filthy. He tells me that if I could inherit one thing from my mama, that it should be her cleanliness, and nothing else. She was pretty, but mean, at least that's what Papa always tells me. I saw her picture once. She looks absolutely nothing like I do. She's related to the Delacourts, if that means anything. My cousin Fleur looks a lot like she does. I don't like cousin Fleur, she's mean too. Gabrielle is nice though. I guess the part veela in my mama ran out, and none of it passed onto me, there's nothing veela about my papa, but there is everything veela about Annette Alice-Justine Lamotte.

"You're late, Justine." I cringe at the stern tone in Papa's voice. He never sounds friendly, and I never smile or laugh in front of him. I don't think he'd like it very much.

"Sorry, Papa," I apologize, looking down at my plate.

"I'll expect better from you in the future."

"Yes, Papa."

"You could've spared the household the trouble of trying to find you today, Ibsen nearly beat himself senseless when he realized you had gone missing." This is where the tears come. I can't stand the thought of Ibsen hurting himself over me, it's unbearable.

"Yes, you feel remorse now, but I guarantee you'll be running off again tomorrow, won't you?"

"Not if she leaves." The "She" I speak of is my governess, Dayna Pritchard. She hits, but not hard enough to mark me, and Papa wouldn't believe if I told him. All I manage to tell him is that she's mean. Papa tells me that she's just strict, and I need a strict rule at a young age, or I'll turn out like Potter, whoever he is. I don't know much of anything, as nobody likes to talk to me about things.

"Miss Pritchard is good for you, Justine."

"No she's not," I whisper.

"Miss Granger has told me to extend an invitation for you to visit her from time to time. If it keeps you out of the forest, I will condone this." This is good news, I like the new person very much. I feel a smile coming on, but I repress it.

"Thank you, Papa," I reply solemnly. What I really want to do is hug him for allowing me to see the new person. I wonder what he would think if I hugged him. Would he push me away and tell me to stop being a silly little girl. Maybe he would slap me, like Miss Pritchard did when I tried to be nice to her. She hates hugs and says public displays of affection are disgraceful. She warned me never to hug my papa, because he doesn't love me, she even said so. I believe her, so I don't.

"Miss Granger…Miss Hermione Granger…Hermione," I chant in the courtyard after dinner. I can't decide what I should call her. Papa calls her "Miss Granger", which makes her sound old, and "Miss Hermione Granger" is just too much to say. Would she hit if I called her "Hermione"? I don't think so, her eyes are brown, and girls with brown eyes are nice. People with black eyes and blue eyes and gray eyes are the mean ones.

Would we have tea? No I hate that junk, I like cookies and hot chocolate. Maybe I could read to her, or she could read to me, because Ibsen can't read, and Papa won't. I saw a lot of boys moving about in her house, and I'm pretty sure I should avoid them, Miss Pritchard says boys are made to look up your skirts, and that's nasty. What would they want to see anyway?

"Justine Alice Snape, it's near bedtime and you're late for your evening grammar lessons!" The high pitched shriek tells me that Miss Pritchard is calling for me. I'm feeling naughty today, so I turn around and yell back at her,

"Take your evening grammar lessons and stick them up your bony old bum!" I scream.

"Justine, I will tell you father what you just said!"

"You can't bother him, he's in his laboratory, and he WON'T be bothered!"

"That may be so, but I can deal with you myself!"

"Catch me, you crummy old wench!"

I can run pretty fast, but not fast enough, since Miss Pritchard always keeps a broom in her pocket. She sweeps down on me pretty fast, and that's when I start to scream. I know I'm in for it now, from the way her face is turning red, and her nostrils are flaring.

Before I know it, we're in my room, and she's setting me down. I try to back off, but her hand is too quick, and I fall to the floor, hitting my forehead on my bedpost. Not only does my face hurt from the unusually hard slap to the face, but the blow to the head is making it hard to focus.

"Forget your lesson, I'm going to bed," Miss Pritchard informs me, leaving in a hurry.

I sit up and sigh.

"Ibsen!"

My house-elf hurries into the bedroom and gasps.

"Miss Jussie!"

"I'm alright, Ibsen." He helps me up, and touches my forehead.

"You is bleeding!"

After the sterilization of my cut, I get tucked into bed, Ibsen giving me a dutiful kiss where the wound has been covered.

It's early morning, and I'm outside, on my way to visit Hermione. I didn't see Papa at all this morning, because he is working into his laboratory early. Other than my cut, I managed to get a bruise on my cheek where Miss Pritchard left her handprint.

"Justine!" Hermione looks rather alarmed.

"Hello…Hermione?"

"Yes, you can call me that…but my gods…how did that happen? Did your papa do that? If he did, I swear…" She starts in the direction of my house, looking very, VERY angry.

"No, no he didn't!"

"Then who did?"

"Miss Pritchard."

"Who's that?"

"My governess."

Hermione gasps.

"That is just inexcusable! She has been trusted to take care of you, and this is what she does? Does your papa condone this?"

"He doesn't know."

"That will change." Hermione grabs my hand and drags me back to my home, and pounds on the front door. Mitzy answers the door.

"I need you speak with your master, please."

"He is busy with his work."

"Hang his work! His daughter is being abused by her governess!"

"What's this I hear?" I cling to Hermione when Miss Pritchard appears.

"You filthy little…bitch!" Hermione swears. I gasp, and when she realizes that I am present so does she.

"I'm sorry, Justine."

"What is all of this? Who are you?" Miss Pritchard sputters, face turning red.

"A friend of Miss Snape's. How DARE you lay a hand on her? She is just a little girl, and there are other ways to show children how to listen and give respect to others."

"Who has been abusing my daughter?" We all looked towards a doorway to see my Papa standing in it. He does not look happy. Interruptions of his work did not make him very happy. He looks at me strangely. I've never seen him look at me that way he is doing now. It could be a new form of disgust.

"What has happened to her face?" He asks, his voice in a dangerous whisper.

"Miss Pritchard has been laying down the law with Justine."

Papa's face darkened.

"Miss Pritchard, I think it would be best if you would leave…today…this instant if possible. I will not be putting any recommendations on your resume, and I will personally make sure that you NEVER raise a hand against another child again. GOOD DAY!" I jump every time his voice reaches a shout, as does Hermione. Miss Pritchard flees the house, and I feel like cheering.

"Miss Granger, there has just been a vacancy in our household staff. As I gather you will be growing quite tired of your suitors, I want to offer you a position as Justine's temporary governess…until I can find a replacement of course, or until you are engaged, whichever comes first."

He's never done anything this nice for me before.

"Of course, Professor Snape."

"Your duties start tomorrow at noon, I will go over what she usually gets taught, and I trust you will follow it accordingly. Good day."

Hermione leaves wordlessly, and I swear I see something extra in Papa's gaze, as it follows her for quite some time. I think it's called respect.

End of chapter