Chapter 7

By the next day, Hermione had decided that the only thing to do was go and speak with Professor Snape. She pulled her cloak tighter around her to guard against the chill of the dungeons, her breath forming plumes of air with every exhale. Being a Sunday, she had expected his classroom to be empty, so she was surprised when another student stood leaning against a desk, fingers tapping the surface.

"Neville?"

She hadn't seen the boy outside of class in a while. Due to the cold weather and her improving relationships with her housemates, she'd stopped going outside to eat lunch with him. She felt guilty seeing him here.

Neville jumped, causing the table to scrape against the floor, and quickly turned to face her. "Hermione," he said, the relief in his voice evident. "Don't do that! I nearly had a heart attack."

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sorry, Neville. I just wasn't expecting to see you here. You caught me by surprise."

"There's no one more surprised than I am," he said, his fingers again taking up their tapping.

She sidled over to stand by him, his closeness familiar and comforting in a way that couldn't be replicated by anyone else. And the guilt intensified as she realized that she'd neglected him for the sake of the acceptance from the other Slytherins that he'd so willingly given her from the very beginning.

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Truthfully? I was hoping to get some extra credit to bring my grade up before I completely bomb the midterms. Literally."

She nudged him. "Come on, it can't be that bad."

He slowly turned his head to look at her, raising his eyebrows and blinking slowly.

Hermione thought back to every potion Neville had managed to bungle, many of them ending in complete disaster. She looked away from him up toward the front of the classroom. "Yes, well...is Professor Snape not here?"

Neville chuckled nervously. "I have no idea. I'm still trying to pluck up the nerve to go knock on his office door."

"Well, come on then," she said tugging on his sleeve. "We'll go together."

"What are you doing here?" He followed along reluctantly. "I know it's not for extra credit." He paused. "Or is it?" He asked with a tone of disbelief.

She laughed, "No, it's not. It's a Slytherin matter."

"Oh, right. I always forget you're one of them."

She stopped in her tracks, making him bump into her as she turned to face him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Neville turned red. "Nothing. I mean, it's just that you're nice and they're...not."

She wanted to be upset with him for making the same assumptions everyone else made; for being prejudiced against her House but she could see the innocence sketched on his face and she smiled softly at him.

"You can't judge a whole group by the actions of a few individuals, Neville. If I did that with your House, I'd have to assume that everyone there are rash, bumbling, idiots." Her eyes got big as she realized what she said. "Not that I think- I wasn't trying to say-," she found herself tripping over her words, scrambling to explain herself.

He smiled wryly, "Would you be wrong?"

She breathed a sigh, looping her arm through his and pulling him along again. "I've missed you."

She missed Neville turning beet red beside her.

They reached Professor Snape's office door and Hermione rapped her knuckles hard against the smooth wood.

"Come." The muffled reply came immediately.

She smiled reassuringly at Neville before opening the door.

"Professor," she said, sticking her head into his office, hesitant to fully enter.

Professor Snape glanced up from the papers he held in his hand, the annoyance he felt at being interrupted clearly written all over his face. "Do you plan on coming all the way in or do I have the displeasure of speaking to a disembodied head?"

She opened the door wider, entering the room further, making room for Neville, who entered more tentatively.

Professor Snape's countenance fell upon seeing the round-faced, trembling Gryffindor. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom as well. What do you want?"

Neville opened his mouth but froze, a tiny croak emanating from his lips.

Professor Snape quirked an eyebrow. "What? Frog in your throat? I think that sort of thing is best left to Madam Pomfrey to sort out. Run along," he said, looking back at the papers he held.

Neville was more than willing to oblige, but Hermione grabbed his sleeve again, keeping him put. "Go on," she whispered.

"Umm, Professor, I was actually hoping that you would be able to, um, give me an, um-"

"Spit it out, boy, I don't have all day!" Snape said impatiently, crinkling the papers in his hand in frustration.

Neville flinched. "An extra credit assignment to bring my grade up," he squeaked out.

With the words finally out, Neville sunk back, waiting for whatever the Potions Master's response would be.

Professor Snape tried to shake the wrinkles out of the crumpled papers. "I don't do extra credit, Mr. Longbottom."

"Well, I guess I better go then." Neville shot her a sympathetic look before making a dash for it.

Hermione was surprised he didn't trip in his headlong escape from the room.

"And you, Miss Granger," he said, barely paying her any attention as he perused over the papers again. "Were you also here hoping for extra credit or were you just Mr. Longbottom's cheerleader?"

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, wrapping her fingers around her wand, feeling the grooves that had begun to already form. She had no intention of engaging in a fight, but the reassuring touch steeled her nerves.

"No, actually, it's a more personal matter, sir."

He looked up at this. "Oh?"

Hermione took a deep breath in, slowly expelling the excess air between pursed lips.

"Sir, at the Quidditch match yesterday I saw something that was...disturbing, for lack of a better word."

"Are you referring to Mr. Potter's attempt to eat the snitch?"

"No, sir, it was something in the stands. I saw," she paused, sucking her bottom lip in. "I saw you and Professor Quirrell...muttering."

His face was stony, betraying nothing of his emotions or thoughts. "Muttering, Miss Granger? You came to tell me that Professor Quirrell and I had a conversation and it disturbed you."

She searched his face for any clue. "Not muttering to each other, sir. You were both staring at Potter. It was going on while his broom was acting all weird."

"Miss Granger, if there's a point to this story, please hurry up and make it," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"Were you jinxing his broom, sir?"

Professor Snape sat still, gazing at her intently, and once again she got the feeling that her thoughts were not her own. She kept her eyes fixed on him anyway.

He broke the connection, rising from his seat and slowly coming around his desk to approach her, a slight hitch in his step. "Do you think I was jinxing his broom?"

Hermione swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. "I don't know, sir."

Snape clasped his hands in front of him. "Let me help you come to a decision, then. Do you honestly think if you thought that there was even a chance that I did it that you would have confronted me about it?"

Hermione blinked rapidly, mind racing. Of course she wouldn't have. She didn't have a secret death wish, and of the two, Professor Quirrell seemed the least harmless.

And then she thought a little harder. Or maybe he wasn't. In order to perform a jinx or counter jinx correctly, one had to speak clearly and quickly. There was no way that with Quirrell's stutter that he would have been able to do either for longer than a few seconds. Unless…

She skipped answering his question, knowing that her silence spoke volumes, and jumped to the next thing she didn't understand. "Why would you save him, sir?"

Snape let out an exaggerated sigh, returning to stand behind his desk. "Do you have any more stupid questions you need to ask, or are we done here?"

She bit her lip, before venturing to bother him further. "What about Professor Quirrell?"

She saw something in his eyes that she couldn't quite place. "You leave him to me, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, of course."

He sank into his chair and went back to looking at his papers, and Hermione took that as her cue to leave.

"Miss Granger," he called out.

She stopped at the door, looking back over her shoulder.

"You wouldn't have had anything to do with my robes spontaneously combusting yesterday, would you have?"

Her eyes widened. "Attack a teacher, sir? That would be breaking school rules, and you know how I am about following the rules."

His lips twitched. "I most certainly do."


If Hermione had any doubt that her Potions teacher possessed some redeemable qualities, those doubts were assuaged the following Friday.

She went to take her usual place beside Daphne when Professor Snape stopped her. "Miss Granger, you will partner with Mr. Longbottom today. Miss Greengrass, with Mr. Finnigan if you please."

She shrugged at Daphne's quizzical expression before grabbing her things and switching spots with Finnigan.

Snape offered no further explanation. "Please pass your essays to the front and begin your assignments for the period." He flicked his wand, words appearing on the blackboard.

"Why do you think he paired us up?" Neville whispered as he grabbed the papers from Potter, stacking them neatly in front of him.

Hermione pulled her essay out of her bag. "Professor Snape doesn't give extra credit, Neville."

"Yeah, I know."

Hermione looked at Neville, and spoke slowly, "Neville, Professor Snape does not give extra credit."

He furrowed his brow before it dawned on him. "Oooh, he doesn't give extra credit. But why would he-."

Neville stared at their Potions teacher as if he had grown a strange deformity overnight. Hermione smiled, shaking her head as she placed the papers in Professor Snape's extended hand.

Snape's unexpected kindness was not carried on throughout the rest of the class. He still sniffed in disdain as he watched Hermione and Neville's work, waiting for the moment one of them made a mistake.

Hermione worked slowly, doing her best to walk Neville through the steps and being patient with his clumsy attempts. They barely finished their potion in time, but Neville was beaming at the more than satisfactory result.

"Professor Snape," Neville had volunteered to take their vial of potion up front to turn in. "Thank you, sir, for pairing me with Hermione."

"What are you thanking me for?" Snape sneered. "Sticking you with the class know-it-all?" He grabbed the vial from Neville and waved him off.

Hermione tried not to react to Snape's insult, but for some reason, hearing him say it hurt worse than the hundreds of times she'd heard it throughout her life. And just like that, her doubts about him returned.

Daphne approached Snape next. "Sir, is there a reason you split me and Hermione up?"

He gave her a critical look. "Have I given you all the impression that it's perfectly acceptable to question my decisions?" He spoke loudly enough for the whole class to hear.

"Only if it's decisions about murdering students," she heard Potter mutter behind her, quiet enough that Snape didn't hear.

"For your information, Miss Greengrass, I was tired of the near fatalities I had to deal with every Friday. I was hoping that having Miss Granger as a partner would keep Mr. Longbottom from being put in Azkaban for negligent homicide." The words dripped off his lips.

Hermione didn't think Daphne quite believed him, but she didn't push the matter. She merely continued the conversation with Hermione as they headed to their next class.

"Why would he stick you with Longbottom? He's never cared about him failing before. He's always gotten a strange pleasure from watching him fail miserably. It just doesn't make sense."

Hermione feigned ignorance. "I have no idea. I've given up trying to make any sense of him." The last part came out a little more harshly than she meant it to, but that part was at least truthful.

"That's probably best," Daphne said. "He's a Slytherin after all; we're a complicated bunch."

Christmas was fast approaching and any worry she had over Quirrell was pushed to the back of her mind as she prepared for the midterms. Of course, she couldn't escape the thought of him entirely as she had three classes a week with him. It was difficult to get the image of his apt determination to kill a student out of her head, especially when she saw him standing in front of the class acting like a simpleton. But Professor Snape's insistence that she leave the matter to him made it easier for studying to become her priority. She couldn't quite say why she put so much faith in the Potions Master, but even with his propensity to make snarky remarks towards her, she trusted him implicitly. And it scared her.


Hermione hadn't bothered telling Potter and Weasley about her revelation as it pertained to Professor Quirrell. They were obviously stuck on the notion that Professor Snape had it out for them and she didn't feel like correcting them.

Not that they would have believed her anyway. After all, as Neville had reminded her, she was a Slytherin and of course they would expect her to defend her Head of House no matter what.

She ran her hand over her hair, shrinking its profile temporarily. The words on the page swam in front of her eyes as she attempted to read the same paragraph for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I think you need to take a break."

Cedric occupied his usual spot at what had become known as their table in the library. He had been hitting the books almost as hard as she had, and he was now sitting leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes in hopes that she'd be able to see straight again. "I can't. Midterms start next week and I'm not even close to ready."

Cedric chuckled. "Hermione, I don't think you can be any more ready." He sat up resting his arms on the table. "Look, we'll be playing Ravenclaw tomorrow, and I'd really appreciate it if you came to watch."

"You didn't strike me as a Quidditch aficionado," she teased him.

He laughed. "Hermione, I play Seeker for Hufflepuff. You do know that don't you?"

She looked at him blankly, before quickly gathering herself. "Well, I do now."

"What? Did you think I was all brain and no brawn?"

"No, I just-" She wasn't about to tell him that was exactly what she had thought. "How do you even have the time?"

He raised his shoulders, letting them drop. "I don't spend all my time in the library. Mainly just lunch period. And we don't practice nearly as much as Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Oh, ok." She let her eyes wander back to her book, rolling her quill between her fingers, embarrassed that she'd known Cedric for over three months and hadn't even bothered getting to know anything about him.

He cleared his throat and she looked up, watching him run his fingers nervously through his hair. "I know that a match not involving Gryffindor or Slytherin isn't nearly as enthralling, but I was hoping that you'd be able to come."

She looked down briefly, fighting the smile that was forcing its way to the surface. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. And what better way to clear my mind than fighting off pneumonia while watching a game I can't see."

"Do you know much about Quidditch?"

She opened her mouth to tell him every tidbit she'd read about it, but upon seeing the gleam in his eye and the eagerness in his expression, she clamped her lips shut and shook her head.

For the remainder of their lunch period, Cedric talked animatedly, but quietly, about all the different positions and rules. Hermione smiled to herself as she saw a side of him that had been hidden before now. His hands moved, replicating the players as they moved through the air, sometimes going off on a tangent about strategy or professional players.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, more interested in watching him than following anything he was saying.


Once again, Hermione found herself sitting in the stands, bundled up to her ears. It had begun to snow lightly as the players had taken to the air.

Cedric hadn't been wrong, she realized, as she noted the barely occupied stands. Of course the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were there, but the only members of Gryffindor and Slytherin were either players who had a marked interest in knowing how the teams performed, or just avid Quidditch fans. The only teachers that were there were the teams' Heads of House. And then of course there was her.

"Granger?"

Marcus Flint, a large sixth-year boy and Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, squinted, making a show of pretending he was doubtful of her identity. She rolled her eyes, just visible over her scarf; as if her hair wasn't a dead giveaway.

His eyes widened. "Bloody hell! It is!" He said, while looking at two other Slytherins who had joined him. Team Beaters, if she remembered correctly.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

She pulled her scarf down to rest just below her mouth. "What does it look like?"

He grinned mischievously, showcasing a mouthful of crooked teeth. "It looks like you're lost."

She crossed her arms, returning her focus to the game. "Well, I'm not. I'm here to watch the game."

"What for?" He seemed genuinely curious now.

"Cedric asked if I'd come." She jerked back and gasped as a player came flying out of the whiteness in front of her, swerving to the right just a few feet from her face. Flint acted as if he didn't even notice.

He furrowed his brow, rubbing his jaw. "Cedric...Cedric," he muttered. His hand stopped. "Diggory? Hufflepuff Seeker?" He crossed his arms, matching her position. "Why would he do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, maybe because we're friends. You should try it sometime."

She didn't know why she'd just said that. Maybe it was her annoyance at being convinced to come to another one of these stupid games. Or maybe it was because she couldn't see the stupid game now that the snow was coming down more heavily. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she couldn't feel her toes.

Flint narrowed his eyes, examining her. "Do you really think it's smart for you to be claiming a Hufflepuff as a friend?"

She continued looking forward, ice creeping into her voice. "I think it's smart to not limit opportunities by confining my circle of friends to a single house."

There was a moment's silence. Flint pursed his lips, bobbing his head up and down. "I like you, Granger. You're not bad." He smirked. "For a mudblood."

She grimaced. "Thank you so much."

He slapped her on the back, completely missing her lack of sincerity. "Of course."

As he walked off, she heard the shrill whistle calling an end to the game. Hermione clapped hesitantly, unsure of who just won. By the faint and scattered applause from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, they weren't sure either.

"Cedric Diggory catches the Snitch and Hufflepuff wins the game, 170 to 90." Lee Jordan's voice sounded muffled, but it was just loud enough, and the Hufflepuffs 'whooped' in excitement.

Hermione clapped, ecstatic that Cedric had caught the Snitch, but even more so because now she could get out of this infernal weather.

She'd waited around after the game to congratulate Cedric, sorry that she hadn't been able to see more of what was going on.

"It's not your fault. Not like you can control the weather or anything. I'm just glad you came." His lips were blue with the cold, and his cheeks and forehead were windburned, but he didn't seem to notice.

She gestured at his face, "Don't they let you use warming charms?"

"Oh, I'm sure they would, but there's something exciting about braving the elements!"

She raised her eyebrows, laughing through her nose. "I don't know about exciting."

A group of Hufflepuffs came along and slapped him on the back, congratulating him on the win. Cedric blushed scarlet, raising his hand in thanks as they left.

Hermione bit her lip, the corners of her mouth pulling up into a smile.

Cedric broke into a confused smile, head cocked to the side. "What? What's so funny?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing."

"Hey, Ced, you coming?"

One of his teammates called from across the entryway.

Cedric looked over, "Yeah, I'll be right there."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes lingering on hers. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

She could feel the warmth of his hand permeating her cloak and she ducked her head to hide the blush forming on her cheeks. "Never better. Congratulations again."

He thanked her, before rushing off to catch up with the disappearing Hufflepuffs.


The temporary reprieve from studying had the opposite effect of its intended purpose. Now, she was having trouble keeping her thoughts from wondering; she could still feel Cedric's hand on her shoulder and see his slightly awkward, slightly cute grin in her mind's eye.

After trying to shake the image of his face from her head for the thousandth time, she laid her head down in her book and groaned. She was glad that Cedric hadn't shown up at the library today. Trying to focus while having him sit across the table from her would have been impossible.

"It's getting close to curfew time, dear."

Hermione picked her head up to look at Madam Pince, who was standing on his side of the table. She groaned again, resting her head in her hand; now she was thinking of things as his.

"You know, there is such a thing as over studying, Miss Granger." Madam Pince smiled softly at her. "You need a good night's rest, I think."

She sighed, pushing herself away from the table. "You're probably right." She separated the library books from her own, gathering the former in her arms in order to put them away. She raised her eyebrow at the librarian. "About the sleep. I'm a little skeptical about this over studying thing of which you speak."

Madam Pince chuckled before heading down an aisle.

Hermione finished shelving the books before gathering her things and leaving the library. The corridors were empty, and she realized that she was cutting it close. She walked swiftly, eyes scanning the darkness between the torches. She wasn't the superstitious sort, but her knowledge failed her where there was nothing to see, so her imagination did the rest. Upon entering the wizarding world, she had discovered that there were more possibilities of what could be hiding in the darkness than she had ever dreamed of.

She was about to round a corner when she heard scuffling ahead of her. She instinctively ducked into a nearby alcove, shrinking back into the corner. The scuffling came closer and then she could hear voices.

"You're walking a very dangerous line, Quirrell."

It was Professor Snape, the venom in his voice freezing the blood in her veins.

"I-I don't kn-know what you're t-talking about, Se-Severus."

Professor Quirrell's stuttering was worse than ever.

"Don't play stupid with me. I know you're trying to get past that bloody beast. Your stunt with the troll nearly got my students killed. And then that little trick with Potter? You're getting sloppy."

"Severus, p-p-please, I d-don't-,"

"Fine, keep playing your games. But the time will come when everyone will know where your loyalties lie."

She heard the swishing of a cloak and then receding footsteps walking off in opposite directions.

She breathed, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. She waited a few minutes and then stuck her head out of the alcove, checking both ways before rushing back to her dorm.

She laid in bed that night, mind racing. Bloody beast? That had to be the three-headed dog. But why was Quirrell trying to get past it? Did he know about the Sorcerer's Stone? And what loyalties was Professor Snape talking about?

She wasn't able to fall asleep until two in the morning.


Hermione didn't know how she'd made it through her midterms. Between her lack of sleep and being preoccupied with thoughts of Cedric and Quirrell, she had been worried that she'd performed sub-par.

All testing was completed Wednesday afternoon and the students spent the last two days before break having snowball fights and lounging in front of their Common Room fires. Hermione envied the worry-free students, unable to relax until she saw her results, but that wouldn't be until next week.

She spent her last two days of school in the library, going over the tests in her mind and comparing her answers to the ones provided in the texts.

"You know, tests are over, Hermione. You can take a break."

Cedric had slid into his usual seat across from her. She hadn't had the chance to talk to him since the match the previous Saturday.

She nervously thumbed the pages of her book. "Yeah, I know. I just figured I'd try to gauge my results."

"I'm sure you did fine. There's no way you didn't with how much time you dedicated to it."

She smiled wearily. "Thanks, Cedric."

They lapsed into silence, Cedric scratching his finger across the grain of the table. "Um, Hermione, actually I'm glad I caught you before you leave in the morning."

"Oh, are you not going home for the holidays?"

"Not this year. My dad is taking my mum on a romantic getaway and I don't want to be the third wheel." He shifted in his seat. "Anyway, I was hoping that maybe I could, uh, get your address and exchange letters over the holiday." The color had risen in his cheeks.

Hermione suddenly felt hot, her fingers becoming clammy and sticking to the pages of her book.

Cedric ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean, if you don't want to-."

"No, I'd love to!" She lowered her eyes trying to compose herself. "I mean, yes, that sounds nice."

Cedric was beaming at her. "Alright then."

She pulled a piece of spare parchment from her bag and quickly wrote her address down for him before tearing the corner piece off and handing it to him. She hoped he didn't notice the tremor in her hand.

"Thanks," he said, shoving the parchment in his pocket.

"So, what do you have planned for the break?"

Hermione was grateful for the change of subject and detailed her family's normal Christmas celebratory traditions. The conversation made her realize how much she missed her parents.

"Wait, you guys wear matching pajamas?" Cedric looked at her incredulously.

Hermione giggled. "Yeah, I know it's silly. But we've done it for as long as I can remember. It wouldn't be Christmas without the Granger family pajamas."

Cedric joined in and Hermione laughed louder, and then they seemed to be laughing for no particular reason.

Madam Pince shot them a reproving glance, and they covered their mouths to stifle the noise, eyes continuing to dance with mirth.


Hermione felt strange the entire train ride home. She felt as though she were coming to the end of a dream. When she stepped onto the platform and spotted her parents, she broke into a run, throwing herself into their arms. She breathed in the scent of them, trying to stop the tears from coming into her eyes.

She pulled back so she could see their faces, their smiles turning into concern.

"Are you alright, love?" Her mother brushed Hermione's hair back from her face.

She sniffed, wiping away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. "Yeah, mum, I'm alright. I just didn't realize how much I missed you guys."

Her father pulled her into a tight hug. "We missed you too."

He released her, holding her at arm's length. "Now, tell us all about school. You've seemed to have grown up so much in the last few months. And you were fairly vague in your letters. Anything interesting happen?"

"You have no idea."

She walked sandwiched between them as they stepped through the magic barrier and into the world.