Chapter 1
As the scream came abruptly from the kitchen, Hermione Granger, soon to be fifth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sure wished her life was a little less fantastic. She and her father were up in a flash from their positions around the dinner table.
Another gasp came from the kitchen as her father slammed into the swinging white door.
"Emily!"
Her father managed to stop directly in front of her so that Hermione bounced off his back and rather large bottom, rebounding into the door and fell backwards right onto her butt.
"Ouch!"
"Oh dear." Came the now frazzled voice of Hermione's mother.
"We're dreadfully sorry, miscalculation on our part, I was sure we'd Apparate at the side of the house." Was that…Professor Dumbledore?
In a flash Hermione was up again, this time pushing the door as hard as she could, grimacing as it slammed into her father who in turned stumbled into their other guest. He was the first person Hermione noticed.
"Snape!"
All eyes in the room turned to look at her. Bright faced from the exertion, bushy hair in a disarray of frizzy half curls, Hermione was the picture of stunned shock.
Dumbledore rescued her. "Ah Miss Granger, so Severus and I did indeed get the right house, how pleasant. Then these must be your parents. How do you do?" One wizened hand extended to take her mothers and then leaned over at the waist to kiss it. For her part, Mrs. Granger looked half way between fainting and screaming again. Next, the headmaster took her father's hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "Fascinating place this is, a kitchen, filled with such marvelous wonders as only Muggles can dream up. I'm quite envious myself actually, the creativity of non-magic users to create magical like things is truly incredible."
He would have gone on, but her father chose that moment to make Hermione wish that Voldemort himself would come now and strike her dead.
"Who in the Bloody Hell are you lot?!"
Hermione choked on her breath. "DAD!" Turning quickly she addressed the two professors. "I'm so sorry, Headmaster, Professor. I-I think you've just startled my parents half to death."
She turned to her parents, who stared at her, dumbstruck at being yelled at when they were obviously the ones who'd been violated in this exchange.
"Mum, Dad, this is Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts," she overemphasized the name of her school so they'd begin to understand. "And this," she said, gesturing towards Snape. "Is my potions professor, Professor Snape."
And then, the nightmare of all her best dreams came true.
Her father, in righteous indignation, contorted his face into a horrible scowl to rival even Snape's and took the three steps between himself and the gray skinned wizard to jab forcefully into the chest hidden under Hogwarts robes.
"So you're the bastard that made our Hermione cry! You should be ashamed of yourself! Hermione's a bright, intelligent, beautiful—"
"OH MY GOD! DAD, STOP!!!"
"I will not stop!" Mr. Granger's burning eyes moved quickly towards Dumbledore's. "Do you know this man terrorizes the children on a daily basis! What kind of teachers to you employ at the school of yours, Sir?!"
It was obvious from Dumbledore and Snape's expressions they hadn't expected this kind of welcome. Dumbledore actually looked like a fish out of water for a moment before collecting himself to reply, Hermione didn't give him the opportunity.
Grabbing onto her father's arm, she off-balanced the large man and forcefully pulled him from the room, all the while listening to him continue to rail about the injustices upon his daughter. She barely heard her mother give a tittering nervous laugh before offering the men tea.
She swung around her father to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"
His eyes were back to the gentleness that was his normal demeanor. "Hermione, you've said nothing but horrible things about that, Professor Snape character, and it's important that the establishment know just how horrible a teacher he really is."
Covering her face with her hands, Hermione tried to think if it were possible to transfer to Beauxbatons for next quarter. "Dad, please, please, please don't say another bad thing, and just file a complaint letter like everyone else! I have to go back in there—worse, I have to take classes for my next three years with him! Oh dad, how could you do this to me?!"
She couldn't see it behind her hands, but she felt it—her father was starting to feel guilty. His large hand came around her shoulders, rubbing her back softly. "'mione, I'm sorry Hunny. You know how I hate it when people don't treat you fairly. You're the brightest student there, I'm sure, and all you can write home about is how horrible he is to you." He squatted down in front of her, moving her hands and examining her nearly tear filled eyes. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Look, I'll go back in there and make nice with the stupid git of a wizard, will that make you smile for Daddy?"
She couldn't help but smile, her dad had turned on that voice he reserved for babies and talking to his car—which were basically the same thing to him. Nodding her head once she closed her eyes, squared her shoulders and walked back into the kitchen, her father trailing behind her, glaring deathly at Snape.
"Um," she didn't get much farther.
"Mr. Granger," Dumbledore began in his most kind and diplomatic voice, a soft smile on his face. "I assure you, we at Hogwarts, including Professor Snape, readily understand the brilliance of Miss Granger's mind, her drive to learn, and her willingness to help others; in fact, that's exactly why we're here.
"If you'll forgive our…unusual entrance—I'm usually much better at judging distance, but I do believe old age is setting in a bit—I would very much like to discuss Hermione's future at Hogwarts with you." He smiled brightly at Hermione, giving her a little wink when the pressure of the unknown threatened to have her begging on the linoleum floor to let her come back next semester. "She is the exemplar of a true Hogwarts student, and indeed, a true witch at heart!"
Outside the wizarding world, 'true witch at heart' had an entirely different meaning than it did inside it, and Hermione could tell from her mother's little gasp, that this wasn't going to go over well without a wizard/muggle interpreter.
Racing to grab the attention back before her mother could comment on the Headmaster's misinterpreted words, Hermione jumped quickly and ran towards the counter, grabbing a hold of the bread pudding pan.
"Professors…um, we were just about to have dessert, won't you stay? It's mum's, um, famous bread pudding!" She needed to stop hanging out with Harry and Ron, her lying was almost getting believable.
But Dumbledore didn't seem to notice and turned twinkling and hungry eyes towards the pudding. "Well of course we would, wouldn't we Severus? Never pass up sweets I say, keeps a man young. That would be lovely, Miss Granger, thank you." And in that last comment, Hermione knew Dumbledore understood what she was doing, and had accepted the offer of a truce. When she glanced at Professor Snape, his look was not quite so friendly.
Ignoring everyone in the room, Hermione latched onto Dumbledore's sleeve and pulled him from the kitchen to the dinning room. "Well then, Headmaster, you're in for a great treat, my mum's pudding has loads of sugar and raisins in it."
And so the Granger family and their two guests found themselves sitting around the dinning room table, sharing halted conversation while Hermione tried desperately to volley the explosive foapa's being unwittingly cast to each side.
At one point it got extremely horrific. Her father was still trying to kill Snape with his eyes, while the Potions Master sat dully through the entire course, offering only a grunt when called for but otherwise holding his tongue. That hadn't been acceptable to Hermione's mother though, a master herself in the art of conversation—except with wizards.
"So, um, Professor Snape." Dark and cold eyes focused on her mother's brown ones and Hermione watched her mother visibly pull back from the heavy look. "Um, Hermione tells us that Potions is very much like chemistry. Richard actually majored in Chemistry, isn't that right Richard?"
"Quite. Hard subject that chemistry stuff. I don't suppose though that wizards know all that much about the subject considering it's less about atoms and chemical bonds and more about idle wand waving." If her father had been trying to insult the man, it worked better than one of Professor Flitwick's Majorium Insulta charms.
Snape bustled instantly, the reference to potions being anything like 'idle wand waving' had the tall man sitting to his supreme height. Hermione felt the storm beginning in the back of her head as the headache began, she raced to cut it off.
"No, dad. Potions is like Chemistry, but not quite like it. Potions is like…um…like cooking! Yes, cooking! No wand movements in cooking, is there, Headmaster?" The desperate plea in her voice must have spurned Dumbledore forward because the headmaster shook his head vigorously and looked pointedly at Snape who instantly calmed down. "Right, see, wizards and witches cook just like everyone else."
Her mother chose that point to comment. "I thought you told us that wizards were incapable of doing anything for themselves; using slave labor in the form of tiny little elves." At Hermione's trapped expression, Mrs. Granger looked to Dumbledore. "Hermione says the poor little creatures are just worked to death all over the wizarding world. I can't understand how people with magic could possibly need slaves, but Hermione says that some wizards are quite helpless." All this was said as if Emily Granger had suddenly become an expert on the subject of the S.P.E.W code of mandates-- it became instantly obvious where Hermione got her legendary know-it-all tone of voice.
"Well, I wouldn't call them slaves--"
Mr. Granger again cut Dumbledore off. "Hermione said there was no compensation for services rendered and that the little creatures had to run around in dirty pillow cases! Emily and I couldn't believe that our Hermione was the first student ever to see that kind of injustice and take a stand against it."
Mrs. Granger jumped in as Hermione sat helpless with a fork full of bread pudding still half way to her mouth. "We've always tried to teach Hermione to stand up for those less fortunate, that's Richard's work--so politically active, you know. But really such appalling employment standards, someone really should do something about those poor creatures. Hermione's even befriended some of them that work in the kitchens at school, haven't you, dear?"
Drawing a deep breath, Hermione calmly set her fork back into the bowl and looked around the table. Her mother and father were looking at her expectantly, ready for her to make a well timed speech about the injustices of elf treatment in the twenty-first century. While on the other side of the table, Dumbledore looked quite amused to see how she was planning on getting out of this one. Snape just scowled at her until she looked back at her pudding.
Taking another breath, Hermione tried to smooth things over. "Yes, they're treated as slaves and in some cases worse; but Headmaster Dumbledore has always been kind to the house elves, even offering them pay and vacation. The problem in the poor things have been oppressed for so long they don't even understand that they deserve such things—so even though it's offered they won't take it. So yes, house elves are mistreated, but not so at Hogwarts. Though I can't say the same for the way some families in the wizarding world treat them." She looked up, her eyes finding the knowing and grateful eyes of the headmaster and the still cold ones of her professor.
Dumbledore spoke up then. "Quite right, Miss Granger. The house elves that care for Hogwarts do tend to overexert themselves in my opinion. It is my sincere hope that by the end of my ten-year at the school they will be willing to take a full day off every week, but that's an old man's dreams I think." He winked at Hermione, and she smiled back, satisfied that he'd heard her opinion on the subject and that he wouldn't forget it for some time.
Soon after the 'house elf' incident, Dumbledore addressed her parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I had hoped I could speak with you for a little while in private about a few things concerning Hermione. That is if you have the time, I know Severus and I didn't exactly come announced. The telephone is a muggle invention I have yet to fully comprehend." He smiled disarmingly. "I find that like young Mr. Weasley, I never know just how loud to talk into it." Hermione smiled, remember the story Harry told about the summer Ron called the Dursleys' to talk to him.
Suddenly it dawned on Hermione that the headmaster wanted to talk to her parents alone, that meant without her there--oh no, something was definitely wrong.
A panicked expression entered her eyes, and she turned to the old wizard. "Headmaster, if I've done something wrong--"
"No, no, child, you've done quite a few things right actually. Now, why don't you and Severus go for a walk while I speak with your parents for a bit. No more than a half an hour I should think. Severus, if you'd be so kind as to escort Miss Granger around the block." It was said as a gentle suggestion, but Hermione knew it was a sugar-laced command.
As Snape rose, the notion of walking around her block with Snape was just about her undoing. Jumping out of her seat, she tried to fix things. Turning towards Dumbledore, she spoke hastily. "No, no, that's find Headmaster, I'll just go alone, no sense making Professor Snape come with me."
But Dumbledore shook her off. "Nonsense, Miss Granger. I think this is an excellent opportunity for you and Professor Snape to discuss some of the upcoming potions assignments for the coming year--I do know how much you like to be ahead of your classmates."
"Oh Hermione," this boisterous response from her mother. "That's a great idea! That way you and Mr. Snape can talk about some of the things your father was mentioning earlier."
Hermione wanted to die.
She looked to her father for some support, some way to keep from being totally and utter humiliated on this night of all nights, but her father only grinned and agreed with her mother as he rose to escort Dumbledore to the living room.
Dejected and resigned to her fate, she didn't dare look at the potions master. "Ok. I'll just get my coat."
I had never taken anyone in the known universe as long as it took Hermione to find a coat she deemed suitable to go outside in eighty-five degree weather.
But when she met Snape at the bottom of the stairs, a sudden flair of indignant anger flooded through her. Encouraged by the familiar surroundings of her own entrance way, and the completely out of place look Snape was giving off surrounded by china kittens, Hermione lifted her noise and put her foot down.
"I am not taking you out onto my parent's street in your bathrobe, Professor. If you want to walk with me you'll have to change into Muggle clothes." There! Let him find clothing for a walk, he was getting left behind, and Hermione was going to breath--
With a quick wave of his wand and a cruel sneer, Snape changed into a pair of jeans, a back tee-shirt, and a black leather jacket, complete with silver cuff buttons and black sunglasses.
"Will this be acceptable, Miss Granger, or would you suggest I raid your father's closet?"
Oh my god, she thought as she stared openly at him, he looked damn good!
The jeans were tight, showing of his long legs, lean but not thin. The tee shirt was maybe just a little too tight, but that was the idea after all. She could see the lines of his stomach muscles and while there wasn't anything close to a six-pack there, he definitely took care of himself. His shoulder length hair was tied back into a ponytail, not a hint of greasy shine to it, and a pair of dark, mirrored glasses were perched upon his just slightly oversized nose.
But that was the odd part. Snape's nose didn't look quiet as big, quite as hooked as it usually did--as it had only seconds before! His skin wasn't quite as gray either, and while not tan by any sense of the word, more like alabaster that a sick clay. His mouth looked fuller too, but that might just have been the extra color added to his face. Then again, maybe it was the leather jacket's fault.
She didn't realize how long she'd been staring until he scowled, ruining the effect of her reverie, bringing his features dark and dangerous qualities that still scared the living daylights out of her. "Some time this year, Miss Granger."
"Oh, right. Sorry." Refusing to lose anymore ground than his sudden change in appearance had cost her, Hermione walked to the door and threw it open, carelessly realizing at the last minute that Snape was poised to get the white door smashed into his newly improved face. She flinched when he caught it just inches from his nose, and promptly ignored the fact that he was holding it open for her as she walked through it and down the porch steps.
She needed a hobby! Ever since her last letter to Viktor, Hermione had been desperately waiting for a reply. She's asked him if he'd be able to visit her at Hogwarts this year, maybe even in time for the Yule Ball. She was waiting for his response now, but ever since the letter, she'd been actually thinking about the dance, and that meant thinking about boys, and Hermione flatly refused to think anymore about Snape being a boy--man-- whatever!
Instinctively, Hermione turned left at the gate. Her parents lived in an upscale neighborhood that catered to doctors, and politicians. The houses that lined this particular street were immaculate, contesting to the hordes of migrant Irish workers that kept everything on both the outside and inside perfect to the most diligent observer. Hermione freely admitted that her house was one of the shabbier on the street, but as her parents were only dentists and not brain surgeons, it was small wonder. She'd lived in the same whitewashed two story since her birth, and it was as much home as Hogwarts had become.
The people mainly kept to themselves, this wasn't exactly the neighborhood for that American tradition of backyard barbecues. But people minded their own business, and on the few occasions when Hermione's pre- magical training abilities had found the family car levitating a few inches off the ground and to the left, no one made mention.
That is, no one except Ashley Westington.
Hermione cursed her luck as the bottle blond came tearing out of her house--completely nonchalant--and "accidentally" spotted her.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm so glad I ran into you!" The fake sincerity nearly dripped from Ashley's tongue, and it took only a second of watching those heavily make-up-ed eyes scanning Snape's leather and jean clad form, for her to determine exactly why she was being tortured with the twits presence.
On instinct, Hermione took a half step back, lining herself up with the confused looking Snape--if the man could look confused that is.
"Ashley."
A twittering hormone induced giggle. "Oh, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, is that anyway to greet your next door neighbor?" She felt her stomach roll as Ashley batted her eyes at Snape. Hermione hazard a look in his direction but couldn't tell his expression behind the dark glasses, she reasoned he wasn't likely enjoying himself. But that casual glance revealed something else she hadn't noticed earlier, Snape looked younger—or more precisely, he looked about what Hermione reasoned must be his real age. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, and still looking extremely shag worthy.
ACK! Stop that!
"Hello, Ashley. Better?" Her tone was completely sarcastic, and it would have been obvious to a blind, deaf and dumb person that the two girls hated each other.
Ashley was a politician's daughter and she showed it clearly. Another bat of her eyelashes towards Snape, and she was turning back to Hermione, a knowing and evil look buried not so well behind the false pleasantries.
"Hermione, I just wanted to apologize. I hope my little get-together didn't cause you to lose any sleep last night. Mummy and Daddy are in the states skiing in Aspen, and I just absolutely had to throw a little party." It took everything Hermione had not to strangle the girl. The party had raged on well past three this morning; and the stereo must have been right on the west wall, because every beat of the subwoofers hammered into Hermione's wall beyond the time she tried to get to sleep.
"Oh no Ashley, it was fine. I don't usually like to sleep on Wednesday nights anyway, interferes with my ability to play snob on the weekends."
Cold fire burned in those blue eyes, and Hermione quickly understood, that she and Professor Snape were about to be pulled into a doosey.
The blond laughed it off, a high pitched--supposedly attractive-- laugh. "Hermione, you're so darling! You and your witty sense of humor. But really, I do want to apologize, Antonio and I might have gotten…a little loud after the party died down." She gave a quick laugh, giving her hand a half swipe in front of her. "You know those Italian boys, they know how to do amazing things with their…hands."
She was going to be sick. And what in the world was she doing, having this kind of conversation with Snape standing right next to her!? Was she nuts?!
She had to get control of the situation immediately, before things got worse, and Hermione could only think of one way to out do a slut: be a bigger one!
Smiling coyly, Hermione batted her eyes to Ashley, before wrapping her hands around Snape's right arm, and leaning her head against his biceps. The smell of leather and something woodsy invaded her senses and had her off balance in such a way that she looked like she was remembering an extremely good memory. Subconsciously, she realized that the leather jacket was hiding a very muscular arm.
Her voice came out perfectly, half bored with Ashley, half knowing her own superiority. "Actually, it was so hard to hear anything after the party last night. After the music got so loud, Severus decided he'd keep me…entertain until things died down. Imagine my surprise, when our own sounds started drowning out the dying cat ones coming from my window." She smiled triumphantly at the red-faced expression of the idiotic girl in front of her; but she didn't dare look at the expression on Professor Snape's face. If his stiffening muscles were any indication, she was never going to hear the end of this. Oh well, she thought, might as well make this one count.
"I'm so sorry, Ashley, did I forget to introduce you, silly me. Ashley Westington, this is Severus Snape, my Chemistry teacher at School. He's come all the way here just to see me, isn't that just so sweet!" She hugged his arm, looking up at him with what she hoped were adoring eyes. She was surprised when he looked back down at her minus the sneer. Oh, boy, was she in for it!
But that inbred bitch had to try for one more dig.
"Mr. Snape, don't you think this kind of relationship is highly inappropriate with our little Hermione?" Her voice was filled with all the self-righteous indignation that goes with knowing the ugly girl next door got the cute one.
She expected Snape to reveal the ruse, and as she prepared herself for years of teasing torture at Ashley Westington's hands, she barely noticed when a long leather clad arm wrapped about her shoulders and gave a little squeeze.
His voice was four parts mystery, and six parts sexual testosterone. She felt his long fingers wind idly into the hair at the base of her neck. "Perhaps Miss Westington, but what man--or woman for that matter--could resist our little Hermione, when she decided to act all grown up?" And to prove his point, he leaned down and nuzzled her hair with his cheek.
"I-I, that is--"
"Hermione, Luv." She couldn't believe she was still standing, and she literally swooned when he used that particular endearment. "Shouldn't we be getting back to your parent's house? Your father wanted to discuss a few things with me about our summer plans." He turned back towards Ashley. "Hermione's traveling Europe with me this summer, I suspect we may even make it to The States."
Then, with an award winning smile and good-bye cast over his shoulder, Severus Snape, unfeeling bastard head of House for Slytherin, gently turned Hermione around, his arm still wrapped firmly about her shoulders—his fingers still tangled in her hair—and walked them back towards her house.
Goosebumps covered Hermione's skin. She was so close to him, his scent permeated every sense she had so that it was as if nothing existed but this newly discovered man by her side.
For that's what Severus Snape was, a man.
"When the term starts, Miss Granger, you've got detention for a week."
Well, you can be a man and a bastard at the same time.
They were just about to enter the gate when a terribly frightened voice came from across the street.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE, HELP ME PLEASE!!!" Spinning quickly, detention and darkly sensuous man next to her completely forgotten, Hermione rounded on Jacob, the six-year-old grandson of Gram Salisbury across the street.
She wasted little time running half way to meet him. "Jacob, what's wrong?!" Fear filled her voice as his own bled into her.
"It's Gram! She fell down the back stairs and she won't wake up!" The tears were already falling, and Hermione quickly gathered the boy into her arms, hugging him closely. With a great push, she grabbed onto the boy he wrist and barreled across the street and around the backside of the brick masterpiece.
Gram Salisbury was some doctor or other's widow. She'd lived on the street as long as Hermione could remember, often letting the children play in her enormous backyard, and enlisting their aid come berry picking time. Hermione remembered fondly the rule of thumb: Eat as many as you want just don't get sick, and save some for the jam. Her own grandparents had died when she was fairly young, and she'd adopted Gram Salisbury as her own since the age of eight.
Jacob was an extra burden Hermione wished she could leave behind as she tried to navigate the uneven path of hand laid stones, but she wasn't about to leave the boy crying in the street.
At the corner of the house, she let go of Jacob's hand and noticed for the first time that Snape had followed her behind the great house. Leaning down, she brushed the tears from Jacob's cheeks and tried to speak calmly to him.
"Jacob, where exactly did Gram fall? Where did you see her last?"
Snape's voice came on the air, as he was already three feet from Hermione's crouched form. "There, by the garden."
Cursing, Hermione rose, and ran past Snape to get to Gram Salisbury. The stone steps lead into the garden part of the yard, and too often they became moss-ed over this time of year. Hermione and others had cautioned the older woman to be careful, but Gram had always brushed their worries aside.
Now as Hermione neared the steps, she saw that Gram had taken quite a serious fall. Laying on her side, her head, cushioned by dirt instead of cement, Gram's arm looked broken, and Hermione couldn't imagine that falling on her side would cause her delicate hip to fair much better.
Dropping to her knees, Hermione stroked back the short curly hair of Gram and called her name softly to no avail. As Snape approached with Jacob close behind, Hermione called out to the six-year-old.
"Jacob, go back into the house and call the police."
But suddenly, Snape was clutching the boy's shoulder, preventing him from running back in for the phone. "Miss Granger, come here and take this boy inside."
Stunned and suddenly furious, she stood, shaking her head, and balling her fists.
"Gram's fallen, we need to get her to a hospital!"
"I am aware of her condition, Miss Granger, now take the boy inside."
She missed all the obvious signs, she was too worried about the woman who'd made her cookies, and let her stay over when her mother had forgotten to give her the flat key during the second grade.
"You selfish, jerk! She needs help, and all you can do is stand there and tell me to take Jacob inside. You bloody useless git of a--"
"Miss Granger!" His voice commanded her attention, and Hermione suddenly felt as if she were back at Hogwarts, her cauldron a puddle of goo at her feet. "Take the boy inside!"
Stubborn as always, Hermione shook her head. Even if Snape was playing teacher instead of seductive mystery man, this was her Gram he was talking about.
Frustrated, Snape moved Jacob within gentle shoving distance of Hermione, and then with a tap sent the boy into her arms. Hermione, for her part, cooed softly to him, her eyes never leaving her own mirrored reflection in Snape's dark glasses.
Kneeling down in the overturned earth, Snape glanced once at the child in Hermione's arms before drawing his wand from out of thin air.
Suddenly, Hermione felt like the biggest idiot in Britain. There she was railing at him for doing nothing, and there he was getting ready to do just the opposite. She pulled Jacob against her chest, felt his sobs soak through her shirt and wet her breasts. With nothing else to do, she ran her fingers through his hair and across his back to comfort him as she watched Snape work.
In hushed words, Snape levitated the old woman and gently rotated her in mid-air, bringing her so that she lay on her back a good foot off the dirt. He checked her quickly for bleeding, but upon finding only a few small scratches on her arms, again reached his hand out into thin air and withdrew from some hidden pocket of space, a small black vial with a cork stopper.
Without looking at her, Snape drew the cork, and then slowly poured the thick liquid into Gram's mouth, gently massaging her throat to stimulate her to swallow. The process took a few minutes, but eventually, Gram had swallowed the entire bottle with nothing but Snape's delicate fingers to help.
He put the now empty bottle into an inside pocket of his jacket before grasping the broken and crooked arm and giving a firm, quick pull. Hermione had to turn away from the sickening sound of setting bones. When she looked again, Snape was gently lowering Gram's body back to the earth.
He looked up then, his eyes meeting her worried and scared ones before turning back to the old woman and casting under his breath, "Inveterate."
A few moments later, Gram Salisbury started to wake up.
Overjoyed, Hermione let go of Jacob, and shifted to gently cradle Gram's face between her hands. "Gram? Gram can you hear me? It's Hermione, Gram. I need you to open your eyes, Gram, I need you to open your eyes so we can make sure you're ok." She already knew that when Gram woke up she'd be in the best shape of her life. The potion Snape had given her looked suspiciously like a Mending potion, designed to heal what ails you, and Gram Salisbury had quite a few ailments.
"…'mione? Child…that you?" Age crinkled eyes struggled to open before finally doing so and falling upon Hermione's face.
"Oh, Gram, you're OK!"
"Gram!" The little bundle that was Jacob launched himself at Hermione, and together they looked down at the delicate face of the woman long known for her gentleness and kindness.
But not her candies.
Quite a while later, Hermione, Snape, Jacob and Gram were all seated around her parlor room. It was a quaint sitting room, but Hermione knew from long experience what happened in this room; so that now, after making sure that Gram felt better than she'd felt in ten years, Hermione was desperately trying to make their excuses.
"I'm so glad you're doing better Gram, but Professor Snape and I have to get going. He and another Professor have to be getting back to school."
"Oh, is that so." Said Gram, quizzically. "So, Mr. Snape, our Hermione's doing well in school isn't she, not getting into trouble is she?"
Oh crap!
She could feel the moment of triumph had finally come. Snape sat up straighter, his eyes, no longer hidden behind sunglasses, looked coolly into Hermione's, daring her to say something to get out of the ear full he was planning on telling her "Gram".
And then, his eyes turned back to the regal old woman and for the first time in her life, Hermione saw him smile in a look that wasn't self- satisfying.
"Miss Granger is of course a very bright and eager learner. I assure you, she's quite a pleasure to have in class."
"Oh that's nice. I'm so proud of you dear."
Hermione wasn't sure what game he was playing, but she was sure it had to do with a whole lot of detention.
"I'm sorry, Gram, we really do have to go." She stood, hoping to speed up the process. Snape took his cue and stood as well, wishing Gram Salisbury well, and suggesting she go see a doctor if she started to feel dizzy. Hermione couldn't help the warm feeling she got at hearing the usually cold professor speaking so compassionately.
"Oh, Jacob, run into Gram's kitchen and bring her a jar of jam for Mr. Snape." Gram turned back to the softly protesting teacher. "Now, nonsense, Mr. Snape, everyone likes jam, and after the good turn you did for me, it's only polite." She received the blackberry jam jar from Jacob and presented it to Snape. "Usually I wrap them, but you don't seem the bow and ribbon type. You just enjoy the jam, and come back anytime."
And then, the ultimate horror began. This was shaping out to be one of those days.
Gram turned around, picked up a candy dish and presented it to Snape. "One for the road, Mr. Snape?" It was less of a question, and more of a command.
There wasn't a child on the street that didn't know you never take candy from Gram Salisbury. There were rumors that some of the stuff was older than she was.
This particular candy was a collection of peppermint ribbons that seemed as if they'd been glued together by collected moisture from the past five summers.
It stunned her when Snape didn't sneer at Gram, it frightened the shit out of her when he actually lifted his hand to take one. Polite she thought, since no one with eyesight would dare touch the stuff, and it surprised her that he could be so polite. In fact, a great many things about him had surprised her in the last forty-five minutes.
But Hermione owed him, and she might as well start paying him off now.
With lightening reflexes, she grabbed a hold of his hand and took it between both of hers, bringing the mass of fingers down as far as his arm would let her. Then she turned on the charm.
"Oh, Gram, I'm sure Mr. Snape would love too, but you see, he's allergic to candy, something in the artificial sweetener. He gets all gray and cranky." She laughed at her own private joke--why couldn't she needle him at the same time she was saving him from a fate worse than Fluffy?
"Dear me, well, why didn't you say so, trying to be so polite to an old woman. Well, now, you wait just a minute." And with that, Gram disappeared back into the kitchen. A moment later she returned with three different colored jars of jam and presented each one into Snape's remaining hand. It never occurred to Hermione to let go of the one she was still holding. "Now, here's Strawberry, Raspberry, and my specialty, Cherry. As I said, you make sure to come visit next time you're in town, there's plenty more where that came from."
And then they were out the door. The four jars of jam had vanished mysteriously into Snape's coat, but Hermione hardly noticed as they crossed the street back to her house; she had an apology to make.
Stopping outside her gate, she turned to him, her mind too occupied to realize she was still clutching his left hand in hers.
"About what happened." She looked up, meeting the cold glare of his eyes. For a second she considered cutting her losses, but then decided he'd done her a good turn and that at least deserved an apology. "It's just, I love Gram. If anything had happened to her…I don't know what I would have done. She like a real grandmother to me, and seeing her like that, I-I just didn't think--"
"Precisely, Miss Granger, you didn't think." And the cold hard steel of his voice was back, drowning out the memory of the softness that had inhabited it only minutes before. "You are impetuous and brash, and those wasted moments you cost could have meant her life!"
Humbled by his words, Hermione dropped her eyes, and focused on their joined hands. She found it odd that he was berating her right in front of her gate but had refrained from dropping her hand. That was odd.
"I also believe for disrespecting a Professor, and disregarding a direct order, you've earned yourself another weeks' detention. I do hope you didn't have any plan, Miss Granger, at this rate I'll own your whole next year." She looked up then, the cold penetrating gaze burrowing deeply into her soul, wounding her in ways that only Snape--the one teacher that couldn't or wouldn't like her--could do.
But he was right, every single thing he'd said was the truth, and that stung more than she wanted it to.
On her own, she dropped his hand and then turned to the gate and let herself in. Her hands felt cold all of a sudden, but she shoved them into the pockets of her jacket and forgot about them as the door opened and Dumbledore stood smiling down at the two of them.
"Ah, Miss Granger and Severus, I do hope your walk was pleasant."
Snape's voice was dark when he answered. "Eventful, Headmaster."
"Splendid! Now, Miss Granger, if you will please, I believe your parents and I are quite ready for you."
Curious by his wording, Hermione chose to forget the indiscretions of the last forty-five minutes and focus on the thing that had been brewing in her house all this time. Dumbledore had that glimmer in his eye, and Hermione knew enough to be just a little wary of it.
The headmaster kindly helped Hermione out of her jacket and with a few words and a wave of his wand had it placed nicely in the closet. With a hand on her lower back and Snape trailing darkly behind, he propelled her into the living room and had her sit on the only couch not in use.
When Hermione looked around, her parents were smiling at her--beaming with pride actually, and she reasoned that perhaps the detentions really would be worth it.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Hermione turned to him, mindful of the fact that Snape was staring at her from his chair by the door. "Miss Granger, I must admit that this is one of my favorite times of the year, when I get to go to the homes of some of Hogwarts brightest students and speak only good things to parents. You have continued to be a great asset to Hogwarts, and the wizarding community is lucky that you have decided to join our ranks.
"To that end, I would like to present you with a small token of Hogwarts' thanks for your continuous efforts to achieve the greatest success possible." And with a little flourish of movement, Dumbledore handed Hermione a small rectangular box of blue velvet. "If you will, Miss Granger," and he gestured to the box.
Fingers vibrating nervously, Hermione hazard a fleeting glance at Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, before opening the box and gasping at the sight.
Before her was a prefect badge, all glittering gold in the lamp light. She'd just been given a prefect badge. She'd just been made a Hogwarts prefect.
"Oh my god!"
"Wear it with as much pride as we at Hogwarts have in you, Miss Granger."
She couldn't have explained later what came over her, but in the blink of an eye she was across the room and throwing her arms around Dumbledore, hugging him for all she was worth.
"Oh, thank you Professor! Thank you so much! I'll do everything in my power to keep making you proud of me. Thank you!" And then, quite out of the blue, she turned and hugged, Snape. "And you too, Professor! Thank you!" She gave him a tight little squeeze, her detentions and his sharp words long forgotten. Then in a flash she was back across the room, hugging and being kissed on the cheek by her parents.
Words of praise and congratulations were passed around, and Hermione soaked up the attention that only intellect could bring. She lived on this stuff, the beaming smiles of adults as they sat around her telling her she was perfection in the making. She knew enough to know she was extremely smart, and knew enough to know there were others much, much smarter. But right now, at this very moment, she was the brightest girl in all the world.
Her high came down just about the time her father cleared his throat. "Hermione, your headmaster has one more thing he'd like to talk to you about."
Expectantly, she turned her eyes back to focus on Dumbledore, while her hands idly ran across the soft velvet of the prefect box.
"Ah yes, thank you Mr. Granger. Hermione, Hogwarts will be receiving a rather, how should I put this, public, student come the fall. Perhaps you've heard of her, I believe she is calling herself, Mellisson in the wizarding and Muggle world. A singer."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry sir, I don't have much time to listen to music." It was the truth. While girls her own age were wrestling with boys and make-up and the latest trends in both robes and designer jeans, Hermione had spent most of her time considering the latest Arithmancy equation. It was sometimes a sad life, but she could hardly think that with a prefect badge in her hands.
"Of course. Well, Mellisson, or rather, Miss Michaels, is something of a pop star--at least that's what I've been told, my tastes tend to lean more towards the Weird Sisters." He smiled again, and Hermione found herself smiling back. "Aside from that, Miss Michaels is rather far behind in her studies due to her career. A sudden move has her here from the states, and she'll need a tutor to help her catch up and stay on top of her studies.
"What I propose is this, Miss Granger. Miss Michaels will need to be tutored at least two hours everyday after her normal lessons--that is, while she's on Hogwarts grounds. Her music career will have her off and running during about half of the in session days. This type of arrangement can only be allowed if Miss Michaels's grades remain above the minimum. I would very much like it if you'd consent to being her tutor, Hermione. This position would extend through the school year with the understanding that for services rendered, all tuition fees for Hogwarts would be forgiven. Should at any time the pressure of tutoring another student begin to interfere with your own work, the administration will of course find an alternative. However, Miss Michaels failed all of her classes except for Potions during her last year, and she'll need to make those up while continuing her new ones. You would be responsible only for last year's material, and since the both of you will be fifth years, I'm sure you are more than capable to handle those subjects.
"One more thing, Miss Granger. The position also includes four extra yearlong credits in an elective that will show on your transcripts as teaching credits. Should you decide one day to pursue a teaching degree, these credits will undoubtedly help you; if not, I'm sure you'd agree they'd look quite good on a college application."
From his knowing smile, Dumbledore knew she was hooked. He'd said all her favorite things. Teaching others, free tuition, extra credits, and college application. As if she'd say no!
"There is one catch, however. Miss Michaels will also need a tutor for next summer, so if you were to take the school year position it would need to include a commitment for at least six weeks of next years holiday. However, the summer will be quite fascinating, as Miss Michaels is scheduled to go on a world tour, hitting twenty-four countries in six weeks. During the summer, you will be monetarily compensated of course, with penalty of time to catch up on your own summer assignments.
"Well, Miss Granger, does this seem like a positions I could convince you into taking?"
Looking back on it, Hermione thought she should have held out for her own classroom, but she'd make due. The prefect badge was pinned carefully to the shirt she was wearing, and Hermione shuttered at the ideas she was turning into Ron's older brother.
With that thought in mind, she carefully undid the clasp, and put the gold piece back into its case, sealing it in her sock drawer. Behind her, her suitcase lay open as she ceremoniously packed only the bear essentials for the week long seminar on magic through the ages, presented by a muggle at Cambridge. Hermione thought it only appropriate to hear a muggle expert speak on things he knew nothing about.
A light rap on her door turned her around in time to see her parents standing arm in arm, beaming at her. Her mother approached her first, giving her a great big hug. "Ohhh, Hermione, we're so proud of you. Your headmaster told us what an honor it is for you to have gotten the prefect badge so young. Your father and I just wanted you to know how proud of you we are."
"Your mum's right, 'mione. And now that your using your knowledge to help another student, and saving your mother and I tuition payments, well, lets just say, I think that deserves a little more spending money this year." She hugged her parents, grateful to them for always being there when she needed them, thankful that they cared about her so much.
The following morning, Hermione boarded the train to Cambridge, never imagining how much her conference partner would change the rest of her life.
* * *
"Ah, you've put her on the train then?"
They were in Dumbledore's office, both nursing bitter cups of lukewarm tea.
"I put Morganna on the train this morning before we left to see Miss Granger. She was far from happy about the seminar."
"As I can well imagine. I doubt many wizarding fifteen-year-olds would find much interesting in the muggle view of magic. Though the seminar should clear up at least some of her lacking credits. I am curious though, how was it you had Miss Granger in such a defeated mood after your walk. You weren't too hard on her I hope."
Snape scoffed. "Miss Granger is quite a handful, Albus. I doubt either my words or her two weeks of detention will effect that fact." He didn't dare allow himself to consider the smoothness of her hair, or the warmth of her hands as they'd held his. He was her teacher for the God's sake! He counted only on her utter embarrassment for having to pretend the dangerous and mean Professor Snape was her teacher lover, from ever bringing the episode to the light of day.
Before him, Dumbledore laughed. "Miss Granger reminds me very much of some other students I've know; you for one. She has your drive for supreme knowledge, and your refusal to accept anything except the absolute truth. Then there's Mellisson. Her kindness to that little neighbor boy proved that fact very well I think."
Snape swore under his breath. "Is there nothing that goes on that you don't know about, Albus?" His eyes were cold, but after years of working beyond the coldness, Dumbledore easily maneuvered around it and into the heart of the storm.
"Probably, though if you're referring to that rather possessive display with Hermione's rude next door neighbor, then no, I know everything." The twinkle was back in his eye, and Severus groaned at what he knew was coming.
"I don't want to hear this, Albus."
"Of course you don't, that's why I have to say it out loud, otherwise you'd never work it around you hearing and into your brain. I've watched you extend a great deal of cruelty towards Hermione and while I know that most of it is a show you put on for the world because she is Harry Potter's friend, the fact remains that you are rather cruel to the child.
"As I recall, you were rather cruel to a certain white haired Ravenclaw girl you were supposed to be tutoring during your fifth year as well; that is until you realized she was just that, a 'she'." Dumbledore laughed outright at the uncomfortable expression on Severus's face. "The fact remains that you are a man of habit, Severus. Once identified, your patters are quiet easy to distinguish, and this particular pattern I've seen before. Would you like me to say it or do you think it will sound better coming from your own lips?"
"It's times like these I wish I'd crossed to Voldemort's side."
"Very well, I'll say it. You're intrigued by Hermione, even attracted to her. There's nothing wrong with this. By wizarding laws, Hermione became a consenting adult the moment she entered her fourth year. How else are we to keep our numbers up. But, there is the little matter of you being her teacher, and while the very idea of you abusing power against a student in such a way will never even cross my mind, it could cross others'. So, Severus, my boy, I suggest that if you plan on pursuing, young Miss Granger, you practice the utmost discretion."
Appalled, Severus spoke. "She's a child, Albus, wizarding laws be damned! Those things have been on the books since wizards took to wands, as old as the Dark Ages! Besides, I'm far too old for her!"
The headmaster's laugh was immediately unsettling. "True about the laws, not so true about the age though. Hermione may only look fifteen, but by her liberal use of the time turner, I'd wager she's closer to seventeen by now, and wizards have never taken much stock in age anyway, only intellectual ability to reason and make sound judgments. I believe Hermione possesses both of these things far more than many give her credit for. Beyond that, you are only thirty-five years old Severus, that's hardly an old man! And need I remind you that my own dear wife--may she rest in peace--was a good thirty years younger than I when we were handfasted?"
"Of course not. Elenorra was as much a mother to me as you were a father."
"Ah, that is a very true statement I think." Warm wrinkled hands found their way around Severus's and he looked up and into a pair of eyes that had loved and protected him since he was dropped off at the steps of Hogwarts nearly twenty-five years ago. "You were the son we never had, and I can never thank you for the joy you brought us. But joy should be given to the child, not just the parent, and you my dear Severus, have had such little joy in your life." One of those warm hands found their way to his cheek. "You deserve happiness, Severus, for all that you've sacrificed, you deserve it in abundance. I believe the great Goddess grants what people deserve in the end, and I have no doubt your time will come soon. With Voldemort re-risen, the Death Eaters assembled, and Harry and Morganna nearing the time of the awakening, it would appear the horrors of the last thirty years may very well be coming to an end. The fact remains however, that you have denied yourself the ability to be happy, waiting for this moment to come, and now that it is upon us, I wonder if you'll finally allow yourself your just dues?
"If she makes you happy, Severus, then pursue her. I am under no impression that Miss Granger found your true appearance today even the slightest bit repulsive, and you were always such a vain boy. But be careful, she's very young still and easily broken. Once begun, it must be followed through to its natural conclusion, lest you ruin her for someone else if things don't work out. I know that at one time you had the ability to love and cherish far beyond even the likes of the Hogwarts Casanova Sirius Black, I wonder if you still have it in you?"
With that, Dumbledore, leaned back into his seat and smiled softly to his adopted son. For his part, Severus was silently trying to block his mentor's words, while failing miserably to dismiss the look on Hermione's face when she'd seen his real features in her entranceway.
Knowing that was enough for one day, enough to at least begin Severus to consider such things, Dumbledore changed the subject to more pressing matters. "With Voldemort's return to power, Morganna will not be completely safe unless the entire staff knows about her lineage. I believe it is imperative that we share this information with the faculty directly before the sorting come the first day of term. With Remus returning as our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Black will also return. Minerva already knows, but by informing the rest, we increase the number of eyes and ready wands should there be trouble."
Still half caught up in his mental war, Snape nodded his approval.
Standing, Dumbledore took the teacup from Severus's hands and guided him by elbow into a standing position. "I believe that is enough for one night, Severus. You have a great deal to think about for the next month, and so do I. I'll leave you to it then." With a light pat of his hand against Severus's cheek, the Potions Master took his leave and returned to the dungeons, a clash of dirty blond and snow white hair waging for dominance in his heart. He did indeed have quite a bit to think about.
As the scream came abruptly from the kitchen, Hermione Granger, soon to be fifth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sure wished her life was a little less fantastic. She and her father were up in a flash from their positions around the dinner table.
Another gasp came from the kitchen as her father slammed into the swinging white door.
"Emily!"
Her father managed to stop directly in front of her so that Hermione bounced off his back and rather large bottom, rebounding into the door and fell backwards right onto her butt.
"Ouch!"
"Oh dear." Came the now frazzled voice of Hermione's mother.
"We're dreadfully sorry, miscalculation on our part, I was sure we'd Apparate at the side of the house." Was that…Professor Dumbledore?
In a flash Hermione was up again, this time pushing the door as hard as she could, grimacing as it slammed into her father who in turned stumbled into their other guest. He was the first person Hermione noticed.
"Snape!"
All eyes in the room turned to look at her. Bright faced from the exertion, bushy hair in a disarray of frizzy half curls, Hermione was the picture of stunned shock.
Dumbledore rescued her. "Ah Miss Granger, so Severus and I did indeed get the right house, how pleasant. Then these must be your parents. How do you do?" One wizened hand extended to take her mothers and then leaned over at the waist to kiss it. For her part, Mrs. Granger looked half way between fainting and screaming again. Next, the headmaster took her father's hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "Fascinating place this is, a kitchen, filled with such marvelous wonders as only Muggles can dream up. I'm quite envious myself actually, the creativity of non-magic users to create magical like things is truly incredible."
He would have gone on, but her father chose that moment to make Hermione wish that Voldemort himself would come now and strike her dead.
"Who in the Bloody Hell are you lot?!"
Hermione choked on her breath. "DAD!" Turning quickly she addressed the two professors. "I'm so sorry, Headmaster, Professor. I-I think you've just startled my parents half to death."
She turned to her parents, who stared at her, dumbstruck at being yelled at when they were obviously the ones who'd been violated in this exchange.
"Mum, Dad, this is Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts," she overemphasized the name of her school so they'd begin to understand. "And this," she said, gesturing towards Snape. "Is my potions professor, Professor Snape."
And then, the nightmare of all her best dreams came true.
Her father, in righteous indignation, contorted his face into a horrible scowl to rival even Snape's and took the three steps between himself and the gray skinned wizard to jab forcefully into the chest hidden under Hogwarts robes.
"So you're the bastard that made our Hermione cry! You should be ashamed of yourself! Hermione's a bright, intelligent, beautiful—"
"OH MY GOD! DAD, STOP!!!"
"I will not stop!" Mr. Granger's burning eyes moved quickly towards Dumbledore's. "Do you know this man terrorizes the children on a daily basis! What kind of teachers to you employ at the school of yours, Sir?!"
It was obvious from Dumbledore and Snape's expressions they hadn't expected this kind of welcome. Dumbledore actually looked like a fish out of water for a moment before collecting himself to reply, Hermione didn't give him the opportunity.
Grabbing onto her father's arm, she off-balanced the large man and forcefully pulled him from the room, all the while listening to him continue to rail about the injustices upon his daughter. She barely heard her mother give a tittering nervous laugh before offering the men tea.
She swung around her father to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"
His eyes were back to the gentleness that was his normal demeanor. "Hermione, you've said nothing but horrible things about that, Professor Snape character, and it's important that the establishment know just how horrible a teacher he really is."
Covering her face with her hands, Hermione tried to think if it were possible to transfer to Beauxbatons for next quarter. "Dad, please, please, please don't say another bad thing, and just file a complaint letter like everyone else! I have to go back in there—worse, I have to take classes for my next three years with him! Oh dad, how could you do this to me?!"
She couldn't see it behind her hands, but she felt it—her father was starting to feel guilty. His large hand came around her shoulders, rubbing her back softly. "'mione, I'm sorry Hunny. You know how I hate it when people don't treat you fairly. You're the brightest student there, I'm sure, and all you can write home about is how horrible he is to you." He squatted down in front of her, moving her hands and examining her nearly tear filled eyes. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Look, I'll go back in there and make nice with the stupid git of a wizard, will that make you smile for Daddy?"
She couldn't help but smile, her dad had turned on that voice he reserved for babies and talking to his car—which were basically the same thing to him. Nodding her head once she closed her eyes, squared her shoulders and walked back into the kitchen, her father trailing behind her, glaring deathly at Snape.
"Um," she didn't get much farther.
"Mr. Granger," Dumbledore began in his most kind and diplomatic voice, a soft smile on his face. "I assure you, we at Hogwarts, including Professor Snape, readily understand the brilliance of Miss Granger's mind, her drive to learn, and her willingness to help others; in fact, that's exactly why we're here.
"If you'll forgive our…unusual entrance—I'm usually much better at judging distance, but I do believe old age is setting in a bit—I would very much like to discuss Hermione's future at Hogwarts with you." He smiled brightly at Hermione, giving her a little wink when the pressure of the unknown threatened to have her begging on the linoleum floor to let her come back next semester. "She is the exemplar of a true Hogwarts student, and indeed, a true witch at heart!"
Outside the wizarding world, 'true witch at heart' had an entirely different meaning than it did inside it, and Hermione could tell from her mother's little gasp, that this wasn't going to go over well without a wizard/muggle interpreter.
Racing to grab the attention back before her mother could comment on the Headmaster's misinterpreted words, Hermione jumped quickly and ran towards the counter, grabbing a hold of the bread pudding pan.
"Professors…um, we were just about to have dessert, won't you stay? It's mum's, um, famous bread pudding!" She needed to stop hanging out with Harry and Ron, her lying was almost getting believable.
But Dumbledore didn't seem to notice and turned twinkling and hungry eyes towards the pudding. "Well of course we would, wouldn't we Severus? Never pass up sweets I say, keeps a man young. That would be lovely, Miss Granger, thank you." And in that last comment, Hermione knew Dumbledore understood what she was doing, and had accepted the offer of a truce. When she glanced at Professor Snape, his look was not quite so friendly.
Ignoring everyone in the room, Hermione latched onto Dumbledore's sleeve and pulled him from the kitchen to the dinning room. "Well then, Headmaster, you're in for a great treat, my mum's pudding has loads of sugar and raisins in it."
And so the Granger family and their two guests found themselves sitting around the dinning room table, sharing halted conversation while Hermione tried desperately to volley the explosive foapa's being unwittingly cast to each side.
At one point it got extremely horrific. Her father was still trying to kill Snape with his eyes, while the Potions Master sat dully through the entire course, offering only a grunt when called for but otherwise holding his tongue. That hadn't been acceptable to Hermione's mother though, a master herself in the art of conversation—except with wizards.
"So, um, Professor Snape." Dark and cold eyes focused on her mother's brown ones and Hermione watched her mother visibly pull back from the heavy look. "Um, Hermione tells us that Potions is very much like chemistry. Richard actually majored in Chemistry, isn't that right Richard?"
"Quite. Hard subject that chemistry stuff. I don't suppose though that wizards know all that much about the subject considering it's less about atoms and chemical bonds and more about idle wand waving." If her father had been trying to insult the man, it worked better than one of Professor Flitwick's Majorium Insulta charms.
Snape bustled instantly, the reference to potions being anything like 'idle wand waving' had the tall man sitting to his supreme height. Hermione felt the storm beginning in the back of her head as the headache began, she raced to cut it off.
"No, dad. Potions is like Chemistry, but not quite like it. Potions is like…um…like cooking! Yes, cooking! No wand movements in cooking, is there, Headmaster?" The desperate plea in her voice must have spurned Dumbledore forward because the headmaster shook his head vigorously and looked pointedly at Snape who instantly calmed down. "Right, see, wizards and witches cook just like everyone else."
Her mother chose that point to comment. "I thought you told us that wizards were incapable of doing anything for themselves; using slave labor in the form of tiny little elves." At Hermione's trapped expression, Mrs. Granger looked to Dumbledore. "Hermione says the poor little creatures are just worked to death all over the wizarding world. I can't understand how people with magic could possibly need slaves, but Hermione says that some wizards are quite helpless." All this was said as if Emily Granger had suddenly become an expert on the subject of the S.P.E.W code of mandates-- it became instantly obvious where Hermione got her legendary know-it-all tone of voice.
"Well, I wouldn't call them slaves--"
Mr. Granger again cut Dumbledore off. "Hermione said there was no compensation for services rendered and that the little creatures had to run around in dirty pillow cases! Emily and I couldn't believe that our Hermione was the first student ever to see that kind of injustice and take a stand against it."
Mrs. Granger jumped in as Hermione sat helpless with a fork full of bread pudding still half way to her mouth. "We've always tried to teach Hermione to stand up for those less fortunate, that's Richard's work--so politically active, you know. But really such appalling employment standards, someone really should do something about those poor creatures. Hermione's even befriended some of them that work in the kitchens at school, haven't you, dear?"
Drawing a deep breath, Hermione calmly set her fork back into the bowl and looked around the table. Her mother and father were looking at her expectantly, ready for her to make a well timed speech about the injustices of elf treatment in the twenty-first century. While on the other side of the table, Dumbledore looked quite amused to see how she was planning on getting out of this one. Snape just scowled at her until she looked back at her pudding.
Taking another breath, Hermione tried to smooth things over. "Yes, they're treated as slaves and in some cases worse; but Headmaster Dumbledore has always been kind to the house elves, even offering them pay and vacation. The problem in the poor things have been oppressed for so long they don't even understand that they deserve such things—so even though it's offered they won't take it. So yes, house elves are mistreated, but not so at Hogwarts. Though I can't say the same for the way some families in the wizarding world treat them." She looked up, her eyes finding the knowing and grateful eyes of the headmaster and the still cold ones of her professor.
Dumbledore spoke up then. "Quite right, Miss Granger. The house elves that care for Hogwarts do tend to overexert themselves in my opinion. It is my sincere hope that by the end of my ten-year at the school they will be willing to take a full day off every week, but that's an old man's dreams I think." He winked at Hermione, and she smiled back, satisfied that he'd heard her opinion on the subject and that he wouldn't forget it for some time.
Soon after the 'house elf' incident, Dumbledore addressed her parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I had hoped I could speak with you for a little while in private about a few things concerning Hermione. That is if you have the time, I know Severus and I didn't exactly come announced. The telephone is a muggle invention I have yet to fully comprehend." He smiled disarmingly. "I find that like young Mr. Weasley, I never know just how loud to talk into it." Hermione smiled, remember the story Harry told about the summer Ron called the Dursleys' to talk to him.
Suddenly it dawned on Hermione that the headmaster wanted to talk to her parents alone, that meant without her there--oh no, something was definitely wrong.
A panicked expression entered her eyes, and she turned to the old wizard. "Headmaster, if I've done something wrong--"
"No, no, child, you've done quite a few things right actually. Now, why don't you and Severus go for a walk while I speak with your parents for a bit. No more than a half an hour I should think. Severus, if you'd be so kind as to escort Miss Granger around the block." It was said as a gentle suggestion, but Hermione knew it was a sugar-laced command.
As Snape rose, the notion of walking around her block with Snape was just about her undoing. Jumping out of her seat, she tried to fix things. Turning towards Dumbledore, she spoke hastily. "No, no, that's find Headmaster, I'll just go alone, no sense making Professor Snape come with me."
But Dumbledore shook her off. "Nonsense, Miss Granger. I think this is an excellent opportunity for you and Professor Snape to discuss some of the upcoming potions assignments for the coming year--I do know how much you like to be ahead of your classmates."
"Oh Hermione," this boisterous response from her mother. "That's a great idea! That way you and Mr. Snape can talk about some of the things your father was mentioning earlier."
Hermione wanted to die.
She looked to her father for some support, some way to keep from being totally and utter humiliated on this night of all nights, but her father only grinned and agreed with her mother as he rose to escort Dumbledore to the living room.
Dejected and resigned to her fate, she didn't dare look at the potions master. "Ok. I'll just get my coat."
I had never taken anyone in the known universe as long as it took Hermione to find a coat she deemed suitable to go outside in eighty-five degree weather.
But when she met Snape at the bottom of the stairs, a sudden flair of indignant anger flooded through her. Encouraged by the familiar surroundings of her own entrance way, and the completely out of place look Snape was giving off surrounded by china kittens, Hermione lifted her noise and put her foot down.
"I am not taking you out onto my parent's street in your bathrobe, Professor. If you want to walk with me you'll have to change into Muggle clothes." There! Let him find clothing for a walk, he was getting left behind, and Hermione was going to breath--
With a quick wave of his wand and a cruel sneer, Snape changed into a pair of jeans, a back tee-shirt, and a black leather jacket, complete with silver cuff buttons and black sunglasses.
"Will this be acceptable, Miss Granger, or would you suggest I raid your father's closet?"
Oh my god, she thought as she stared openly at him, he looked damn good!
The jeans were tight, showing of his long legs, lean but not thin. The tee shirt was maybe just a little too tight, but that was the idea after all. She could see the lines of his stomach muscles and while there wasn't anything close to a six-pack there, he definitely took care of himself. His shoulder length hair was tied back into a ponytail, not a hint of greasy shine to it, and a pair of dark, mirrored glasses were perched upon his just slightly oversized nose.
But that was the odd part. Snape's nose didn't look quiet as big, quite as hooked as it usually did--as it had only seconds before! His skin wasn't quite as gray either, and while not tan by any sense of the word, more like alabaster that a sick clay. His mouth looked fuller too, but that might just have been the extra color added to his face. Then again, maybe it was the leather jacket's fault.
She didn't realize how long she'd been staring until he scowled, ruining the effect of her reverie, bringing his features dark and dangerous qualities that still scared the living daylights out of her. "Some time this year, Miss Granger."
"Oh, right. Sorry." Refusing to lose anymore ground than his sudden change in appearance had cost her, Hermione walked to the door and threw it open, carelessly realizing at the last minute that Snape was poised to get the white door smashed into his newly improved face. She flinched when he caught it just inches from his nose, and promptly ignored the fact that he was holding it open for her as she walked through it and down the porch steps.
She needed a hobby! Ever since her last letter to Viktor, Hermione had been desperately waiting for a reply. She's asked him if he'd be able to visit her at Hogwarts this year, maybe even in time for the Yule Ball. She was waiting for his response now, but ever since the letter, she'd been actually thinking about the dance, and that meant thinking about boys, and Hermione flatly refused to think anymore about Snape being a boy--man-- whatever!
Instinctively, Hermione turned left at the gate. Her parents lived in an upscale neighborhood that catered to doctors, and politicians. The houses that lined this particular street were immaculate, contesting to the hordes of migrant Irish workers that kept everything on both the outside and inside perfect to the most diligent observer. Hermione freely admitted that her house was one of the shabbier on the street, but as her parents were only dentists and not brain surgeons, it was small wonder. She'd lived in the same whitewashed two story since her birth, and it was as much home as Hogwarts had become.
The people mainly kept to themselves, this wasn't exactly the neighborhood for that American tradition of backyard barbecues. But people minded their own business, and on the few occasions when Hermione's pre- magical training abilities had found the family car levitating a few inches off the ground and to the left, no one made mention.
That is, no one except Ashley Westington.
Hermione cursed her luck as the bottle blond came tearing out of her house--completely nonchalant--and "accidentally" spotted her.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm so glad I ran into you!" The fake sincerity nearly dripped from Ashley's tongue, and it took only a second of watching those heavily make-up-ed eyes scanning Snape's leather and jean clad form, for her to determine exactly why she was being tortured with the twits presence.
On instinct, Hermione took a half step back, lining herself up with the confused looking Snape--if the man could look confused that is.
"Ashley."
A twittering hormone induced giggle. "Oh, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, is that anyway to greet your next door neighbor?" She felt her stomach roll as Ashley batted her eyes at Snape. Hermione hazard a look in his direction but couldn't tell his expression behind the dark glasses, she reasoned he wasn't likely enjoying himself. But that casual glance revealed something else she hadn't noticed earlier, Snape looked younger—or more precisely, he looked about what Hermione reasoned must be his real age. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, and still looking extremely shag worthy.
ACK! Stop that!
"Hello, Ashley. Better?" Her tone was completely sarcastic, and it would have been obvious to a blind, deaf and dumb person that the two girls hated each other.
Ashley was a politician's daughter and she showed it clearly. Another bat of her eyelashes towards Snape, and she was turning back to Hermione, a knowing and evil look buried not so well behind the false pleasantries.
"Hermione, I just wanted to apologize. I hope my little get-together didn't cause you to lose any sleep last night. Mummy and Daddy are in the states skiing in Aspen, and I just absolutely had to throw a little party." It took everything Hermione had not to strangle the girl. The party had raged on well past three this morning; and the stereo must have been right on the west wall, because every beat of the subwoofers hammered into Hermione's wall beyond the time she tried to get to sleep.
"Oh no Ashley, it was fine. I don't usually like to sleep on Wednesday nights anyway, interferes with my ability to play snob on the weekends."
Cold fire burned in those blue eyes, and Hermione quickly understood, that she and Professor Snape were about to be pulled into a doosey.
The blond laughed it off, a high pitched--supposedly attractive-- laugh. "Hermione, you're so darling! You and your witty sense of humor. But really, I do want to apologize, Antonio and I might have gotten…a little loud after the party died down." She gave a quick laugh, giving her hand a half swipe in front of her. "You know those Italian boys, they know how to do amazing things with their…hands."
She was going to be sick. And what in the world was she doing, having this kind of conversation with Snape standing right next to her!? Was she nuts?!
She had to get control of the situation immediately, before things got worse, and Hermione could only think of one way to out do a slut: be a bigger one!
Smiling coyly, Hermione batted her eyes to Ashley, before wrapping her hands around Snape's right arm, and leaning her head against his biceps. The smell of leather and something woodsy invaded her senses and had her off balance in such a way that she looked like she was remembering an extremely good memory. Subconsciously, she realized that the leather jacket was hiding a very muscular arm.
Her voice came out perfectly, half bored with Ashley, half knowing her own superiority. "Actually, it was so hard to hear anything after the party last night. After the music got so loud, Severus decided he'd keep me…entertain until things died down. Imagine my surprise, when our own sounds started drowning out the dying cat ones coming from my window." She smiled triumphantly at the red-faced expression of the idiotic girl in front of her; but she didn't dare look at the expression on Professor Snape's face. If his stiffening muscles were any indication, she was never going to hear the end of this. Oh well, she thought, might as well make this one count.
"I'm so sorry, Ashley, did I forget to introduce you, silly me. Ashley Westington, this is Severus Snape, my Chemistry teacher at School. He's come all the way here just to see me, isn't that just so sweet!" She hugged his arm, looking up at him with what she hoped were adoring eyes. She was surprised when he looked back down at her minus the sneer. Oh, boy, was she in for it!
But that inbred bitch had to try for one more dig.
"Mr. Snape, don't you think this kind of relationship is highly inappropriate with our little Hermione?" Her voice was filled with all the self-righteous indignation that goes with knowing the ugly girl next door got the cute one.
She expected Snape to reveal the ruse, and as she prepared herself for years of teasing torture at Ashley Westington's hands, she barely noticed when a long leather clad arm wrapped about her shoulders and gave a little squeeze.
His voice was four parts mystery, and six parts sexual testosterone. She felt his long fingers wind idly into the hair at the base of her neck. "Perhaps Miss Westington, but what man--or woman for that matter--could resist our little Hermione, when she decided to act all grown up?" And to prove his point, he leaned down and nuzzled her hair with his cheek.
"I-I, that is--"
"Hermione, Luv." She couldn't believe she was still standing, and she literally swooned when he used that particular endearment. "Shouldn't we be getting back to your parent's house? Your father wanted to discuss a few things with me about our summer plans." He turned back towards Ashley. "Hermione's traveling Europe with me this summer, I suspect we may even make it to The States."
Then, with an award winning smile and good-bye cast over his shoulder, Severus Snape, unfeeling bastard head of House for Slytherin, gently turned Hermione around, his arm still wrapped firmly about her shoulders—his fingers still tangled in her hair—and walked them back towards her house.
Goosebumps covered Hermione's skin. She was so close to him, his scent permeated every sense she had so that it was as if nothing existed but this newly discovered man by her side.
For that's what Severus Snape was, a man.
"When the term starts, Miss Granger, you've got detention for a week."
Well, you can be a man and a bastard at the same time.
They were just about to enter the gate when a terribly frightened voice came from across the street.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE, HELP ME PLEASE!!!" Spinning quickly, detention and darkly sensuous man next to her completely forgotten, Hermione rounded on Jacob, the six-year-old grandson of Gram Salisbury across the street.
She wasted little time running half way to meet him. "Jacob, what's wrong?!" Fear filled her voice as his own bled into her.
"It's Gram! She fell down the back stairs and she won't wake up!" The tears were already falling, and Hermione quickly gathered the boy into her arms, hugging him closely. With a great push, she grabbed onto the boy he wrist and barreled across the street and around the backside of the brick masterpiece.
Gram Salisbury was some doctor or other's widow. She'd lived on the street as long as Hermione could remember, often letting the children play in her enormous backyard, and enlisting their aid come berry picking time. Hermione remembered fondly the rule of thumb: Eat as many as you want just don't get sick, and save some for the jam. Her own grandparents had died when she was fairly young, and she'd adopted Gram Salisbury as her own since the age of eight.
Jacob was an extra burden Hermione wished she could leave behind as she tried to navigate the uneven path of hand laid stones, but she wasn't about to leave the boy crying in the street.
At the corner of the house, she let go of Jacob's hand and noticed for the first time that Snape had followed her behind the great house. Leaning down, she brushed the tears from Jacob's cheeks and tried to speak calmly to him.
"Jacob, where exactly did Gram fall? Where did you see her last?"
Snape's voice came on the air, as he was already three feet from Hermione's crouched form. "There, by the garden."
Cursing, Hermione rose, and ran past Snape to get to Gram Salisbury. The stone steps lead into the garden part of the yard, and too often they became moss-ed over this time of year. Hermione and others had cautioned the older woman to be careful, but Gram had always brushed their worries aside.
Now as Hermione neared the steps, she saw that Gram had taken quite a serious fall. Laying on her side, her head, cushioned by dirt instead of cement, Gram's arm looked broken, and Hermione couldn't imagine that falling on her side would cause her delicate hip to fair much better.
Dropping to her knees, Hermione stroked back the short curly hair of Gram and called her name softly to no avail. As Snape approached with Jacob close behind, Hermione called out to the six-year-old.
"Jacob, go back into the house and call the police."
But suddenly, Snape was clutching the boy's shoulder, preventing him from running back in for the phone. "Miss Granger, come here and take this boy inside."
Stunned and suddenly furious, she stood, shaking her head, and balling her fists.
"Gram's fallen, we need to get her to a hospital!"
"I am aware of her condition, Miss Granger, now take the boy inside."
She missed all the obvious signs, she was too worried about the woman who'd made her cookies, and let her stay over when her mother had forgotten to give her the flat key during the second grade.
"You selfish, jerk! She needs help, and all you can do is stand there and tell me to take Jacob inside. You bloody useless git of a--"
"Miss Granger!" His voice commanded her attention, and Hermione suddenly felt as if she were back at Hogwarts, her cauldron a puddle of goo at her feet. "Take the boy inside!"
Stubborn as always, Hermione shook her head. Even if Snape was playing teacher instead of seductive mystery man, this was her Gram he was talking about.
Frustrated, Snape moved Jacob within gentle shoving distance of Hermione, and then with a tap sent the boy into her arms. Hermione, for her part, cooed softly to him, her eyes never leaving her own mirrored reflection in Snape's dark glasses.
Kneeling down in the overturned earth, Snape glanced once at the child in Hermione's arms before drawing his wand from out of thin air.
Suddenly, Hermione felt like the biggest idiot in Britain. There she was railing at him for doing nothing, and there he was getting ready to do just the opposite. She pulled Jacob against her chest, felt his sobs soak through her shirt and wet her breasts. With nothing else to do, she ran her fingers through his hair and across his back to comfort him as she watched Snape work.
In hushed words, Snape levitated the old woman and gently rotated her in mid-air, bringing her so that she lay on her back a good foot off the dirt. He checked her quickly for bleeding, but upon finding only a few small scratches on her arms, again reached his hand out into thin air and withdrew from some hidden pocket of space, a small black vial with a cork stopper.
Without looking at her, Snape drew the cork, and then slowly poured the thick liquid into Gram's mouth, gently massaging her throat to stimulate her to swallow. The process took a few minutes, but eventually, Gram had swallowed the entire bottle with nothing but Snape's delicate fingers to help.
He put the now empty bottle into an inside pocket of his jacket before grasping the broken and crooked arm and giving a firm, quick pull. Hermione had to turn away from the sickening sound of setting bones. When she looked again, Snape was gently lowering Gram's body back to the earth.
He looked up then, his eyes meeting her worried and scared ones before turning back to the old woman and casting under his breath, "Inveterate."
A few moments later, Gram Salisbury started to wake up.
Overjoyed, Hermione let go of Jacob, and shifted to gently cradle Gram's face between her hands. "Gram? Gram can you hear me? It's Hermione, Gram. I need you to open your eyes, Gram, I need you to open your eyes so we can make sure you're ok." She already knew that when Gram woke up she'd be in the best shape of her life. The potion Snape had given her looked suspiciously like a Mending potion, designed to heal what ails you, and Gram Salisbury had quite a few ailments.
"…'mione? Child…that you?" Age crinkled eyes struggled to open before finally doing so and falling upon Hermione's face.
"Oh, Gram, you're OK!"
"Gram!" The little bundle that was Jacob launched himself at Hermione, and together they looked down at the delicate face of the woman long known for her gentleness and kindness.
But not her candies.
Quite a while later, Hermione, Snape, Jacob and Gram were all seated around her parlor room. It was a quaint sitting room, but Hermione knew from long experience what happened in this room; so that now, after making sure that Gram felt better than she'd felt in ten years, Hermione was desperately trying to make their excuses.
"I'm so glad you're doing better Gram, but Professor Snape and I have to get going. He and another Professor have to be getting back to school."
"Oh, is that so." Said Gram, quizzically. "So, Mr. Snape, our Hermione's doing well in school isn't she, not getting into trouble is she?"
Oh crap!
She could feel the moment of triumph had finally come. Snape sat up straighter, his eyes, no longer hidden behind sunglasses, looked coolly into Hermione's, daring her to say something to get out of the ear full he was planning on telling her "Gram".
And then, his eyes turned back to the regal old woman and for the first time in her life, Hermione saw him smile in a look that wasn't self- satisfying.
"Miss Granger is of course a very bright and eager learner. I assure you, she's quite a pleasure to have in class."
"Oh that's nice. I'm so proud of you dear."
Hermione wasn't sure what game he was playing, but she was sure it had to do with a whole lot of detention.
"I'm sorry, Gram, we really do have to go." She stood, hoping to speed up the process. Snape took his cue and stood as well, wishing Gram Salisbury well, and suggesting she go see a doctor if she started to feel dizzy. Hermione couldn't help the warm feeling she got at hearing the usually cold professor speaking so compassionately.
"Oh, Jacob, run into Gram's kitchen and bring her a jar of jam for Mr. Snape." Gram turned back to the softly protesting teacher. "Now, nonsense, Mr. Snape, everyone likes jam, and after the good turn you did for me, it's only polite." She received the blackberry jam jar from Jacob and presented it to Snape. "Usually I wrap them, but you don't seem the bow and ribbon type. You just enjoy the jam, and come back anytime."
And then, the ultimate horror began. This was shaping out to be one of those days.
Gram turned around, picked up a candy dish and presented it to Snape. "One for the road, Mr. Snape?" It was less of a question, and more of a command.
There wasn't a child on the street that didn't know you never take candy from Gram Salisbury. There were rumors that some of the stuff was older than she was.
This particular candy was a collection of peppermint ribbons that seemed as if they'd been glued together by collected moisture from the past five summers.
It stunned her when Snape didn't sneer at Gram, it frightened the shit out of her when he actually lifted his hand to take one. Polite she thought, since no one with eyesight would dare touch the stuff, and it surprised her that he could be so polite. In fact, a great many things about him had surprised her in the last forty-five minutes.
But Hermione owed him, and she might as well start paying him off now.
With lightening reflexes, she grabbed a hold of his hand and took it between both of hers, bringing the mass of fingers down as far as his arm would let her. Then she turned on the charm.
"Oh, Gram, I'm sure Mr. Snape would love too, but you see, he's allergic to candy, something in the artificial sweetener. He gets all gray and cranky." She laughed at her own private joke--why couldn't she needle him at the same time she was saving him from a fate worse than Fluffy?
"Dear me, well, why didn't you say so, trying to be so polite to an old woman. Well, now, you wait just a minute." And with that, Gram disappeared back into the kitchen. A moment later she returned with three different colored jars of jam and presented each one into Snape's remaining hand. It never occurred to Hermione to let go of the one she was still holding. "Now, here's Strawberry, Raspberry, and my specialty, Cherry. As I said, you make sure to come visit next time you're in town, there's plenty more where that came from."
And then they were out the door. The four jars of jam had vanished mysteriously into Snape's coat, but Hermione hardly noticed as they crossed the street back to her house; she had an apology to make.
Stopping outside her gate, she turned to him, her mind too occupied to realize she was still clutching his left hand in hers.
"About what happened." She looked up, meeting the cold glare of his eyes. For a second she considered cutting her losses, but then decided he'd done her a good turn and that at least deserved an apology. "It's just, I love Gram. If anything had happened to her…I don't know what I would have done. She like a real grandmother to me, and seeing her like that, I-I just didn't think--"
"Precisely, Miss Granger, you didn't think." And the cold hard steel of his voice was back, drowning out the memory of the softness that had inhabited it only minutes before. "You are impetuous and brash, and those wasted moments you cost could have meant her life!"
Humbled by his words, Hermione dropped her eyes, and focused on their joined hands. She found it odd that he was berating her right in front of her gate but had refrained from dropping her hand. That was odd.
"I also believe for disrespecting a Professor, and disregarding a direct order, you've earned yourself another weeks' detention. I do hope you didn't have any plan, Miss Granger, at this rate I'll own your whole next year." She looked up then, the cold penetrating gaze burrowing deeply into her soul, wounding her in ways that only Snape--the one teacher that couldn't or wouldn't like her--could do.
But he was right, every single thing he'd said was the truth, and that stung more than she wanted it to.
On her own, she dropped his hand and then turned to the gate and let herself in. Her hands felt cold all of a sudden, but she shoved them into the pockets of her jacket and forgot about them as the door opened and Dumbledore stood smiling down at the two of them.
"Ah, Miss Granger and Severus, I do hope your walk was pleasant."
Snape's voice was dark when he answered. "Eventful, Headmaster."
"Splendid! Now, Miss Granger, if you will please, I believe your parents and I are quite ready for you."
Curious by his wording, Hermione chose to forget the indiscretions of the last forty-five minutes and focus on the thing that had been brewing in her house all this time. Dumbledore had that glimmer in his eye, and Hermione knew enough to be just a little wary of it.
The headmaster kindly helped Hermione out of her jacket and with a few words and a wave of his wand had it placed nicely in the closet. With a hand on her lower back and Snape trailing darkly behind, he propelled her into the living room and had her sit on the only couch not in use.
When Hermione looked around, her parents were smiling at her--beaming with pride actually, and she reasoned that perhaps the detentions really would be worth it.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Hermione turned to him, mindful of the fact that Snape was staring at her from his chair by the door. "Miss Granger, I must admit that this is one of my favorite times of the year, when I get to go to the homes of some of Hogwarts brightest students and speak only good things to parents. You have continued to be a great asset to Hogwarts, and the wizarding community is lucky that you have decided to join our ranks.
"To that end, I would like to present you with a small token of Hogwarts' thanks for your continuous efforts to achieve the greatest success possible." And with a little flourish of movement, Dumbledore handed Hermione a small rectangular box of blue velvet. "If you will, Miss Granger," and he gestured to the box.
Fingers vibrating nervously, Hermione hazard a fleeting glance at Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, before opening the box and gasping at the sight.
Before her was a prefect badge, all glittering gold in the lamp light. She'd just been given a prefect badge. She'd just been made a Hogwarts prefect.
"Oh my god!"
"Wear it with as much pride as we at Hogwarts have in you, Miss Granger."
She couldn't have explained later what came over her, but in the blink of an eye she was across the room and throwing her arms around Dumbledore, hugging him for all she was worth.
"Oh, thank you Professor! Thank you so much! I'll do everything in my power to keep making you proud of me. Thank you!" And then, quite out of the blue, she turned and hugged, Snape. "And you too, Professor! Thank you!" She gave him a tight little squeeze, her detentions and his sharp words long forgotten. Then in a flash she was back across the room, hugging and being kissed on the cheek by her parents.
Words of praise and congratulations were passed around, and Hermione soaked up the attention that only intellect could bring. She lived on this stuff, the beaming smiles of adults as they sat around her telling her she was perfection in the making. She knew enough to know she was extremely smart, and knew enough to know there were others much, much smarter. But right now, at this very moment, she was the brightest girl in all the world.
Her high came down just about the time her father cleared his throat. "Hermione, your headmaster has one more thing he'd like to talk to you about."
Expectantly, she turned her eyes back to focus on Dumbledore, while her hands idly ran across the soft velvet of the prefect box.
"Ah yes, thank you Mr. Granger. Hermione, Hogwarts will be receiving a rather, how should I put this, public, student come the fall. Perhaps you've heard of her, I believe she is calling herself, Mellisson in the wizarding and Muggle world. A singer."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry sir, I don't have much time to listen to music." It was the truth. While girls her own age were wrestling with boys and make-up and the latest trends in both robes and designer jeans, Hermione had spent most of her time considering the latest Arithmancy equation. It was sometimes a sad life, but she could hardly think that with a prefect badge in her hands.
"Of course. Well, Mellisson, or rather, Miss Michaels, is something of a pop star--at least that's what I've been told, my tastes tend to lean more towards the Weird Sisters." He smiled again, and Hermione found herself smiling back. "Aside from that, Miss Michaels is rather far behind in her studies due to her career. A sudden move has her here from the states, and she'll need a tutor to help her catch up and stay on top of her studies.
"What I propose is this, Miss Granger. Miss Michaels will need to be tutored at least two hours everyday after her normal lessons--that is, while she's on Hogwarts grounds. Her music career will have her off and running during about half of the in session days. This type of arrangement can only be allowed if Miss Michaels's grades remain above the minimum. I would very much like it if you'd consent to being her tutor, Hermione. This position would extend through the school year with the understanding that for services rendered, all tuition fees for Hogwarts would be forgiven. Should at any time the pressure of tutoring another student begin to interfere with your own work, the administration will of course find an alternative. However, Miss Michaels failed all of her classes except for Potions during her last year, and she'll need to make those up while continuing her new ones. You would be responsible only for last year's material, and since the both of you will be fifth years, I'm sure you are more than capable to handle those subjects.
"One more thing, Miss Granger. The position also includes four extra yearlong credits in an elective that will show on your transcripts as teaching credits. Should you decide one day to pursue a teaching degree, these credits will undoubtedly help you; if not, I'm sure you'd agree they'd look quite good on a college application."
From his knowing smile, Dumbledore knew she was hooked. He'd said all her favorite things. Teaching others, free tuition, extra credits, and college application. As if she'd say no!
"There is one catch, however. Miss Michaels will also need a tutor for next summer, so if you were to take the school year position it would need to include a commitment for at least six weeks of next years holiday. However, the summer will be quite fascinating, as Miss Michaels is scheduled to go on a world tour, hitting twenty-four countries in six weeks. During the summer, you will be monetarily compensated of course, with penalty of time to catch up on your own summer assignments.
"Well, Miss Granger, does this seem like a positions I could convince you into taking?"
Looking back on it, Hermione thought she should have held out for her own classroom, but she'd make due. The prefect badge was pinned carefully to the shirt she was wearing, and Hermione shuttered at the ideas she was turning into Ron's older brother.
With that thought in mind, she carefully undid the clasp, and put the gold piece back into its case, sealing it in her sock drawer. Behind her, her suitcase lay open as she ceremoniously packed only the bear essentials for the week long seminar on magic through the ages, presented by a muggle at Cambridge. Hermione thought it only appropriate to hear a muggle expert speak on things he knew nothing about.
A light rap on her door turned her around in time to see her parents standing arm in arm, beaming at her. Her mother approached her first, giving her a great big hug. "Ohhh, Hermione, we're so proud of you. Your headmaster told us what an honor it is for you to have gotten the prefect badge so young. Your father and I just wanted you to know how proud of you we are."
"Your mum's right, 'mione. And now that your using your knowledge to help another student, and saving your mother and I tuition payments, well, lets just say, I think that deserves a little more spending money this year." She hugged her parents, grateful to them for always being there when she needed them, thankful that they cared about her so much.
The following morning, Hermione boarded the train to Cambridge, never imagining how much her conference partner would change the rest of her life.
* * *
"Ah, you've put her on the train then?"
They were in Dumbledore's office, both nursing bitter cups of lukewarm tea.
"I put Morganna on the train this morning before we left to see Miss Granger. She was far from happy about the seminar."
"As I can well imagine. I doubt many wizarding fifteen-year-olds would find much interesting in the muggle view of magic. Though the seminar should clear up at least some of her lacking credits. I am curious though, how was it you had Miss Granger in such a defeated mood after your walk. You weren't too hard on her I hope."
Snape scoffed. "Miss Granger is quite a handful, Albus. I doubt either my words or her two weeks of detention will effect that fact." He didn't dare allow himself to consider the smoothness of her hair, or the warmth of her hands as they'd held his. He was her teacher for the God's sake! He counted only on her utter embarrassment for having to pretend the dangerous and mean Professor Snape was her teacher lover, from ever bringing the episode to the light of day.
Before him, Dumbledore laughed. "Miss Granger reminds me very much of some other students I've know; you for one. She has your drive for supreme knowledge, and your refusal to accept anything except the absolute truth. Then there's Mellisson. Her kindness to that little neighbor boy proved that fact very well I think."
Snape swore under his breath. "Is there nothing that goes on that you don't know about, Albus?" His eyes were cold, but after years of working beyond the coldness, Dumbledore easily maneuvered around it and into the heart of the storm.
"Probably, though if you're referring to that rather possessive display with Hermione's rude next door neighbor, then no, I know everything." The twinkle was back in his eye, and Severus groaned at what he knew was coming.
"I don't want to hear this, Albus."
"Of course you don't, that's why I have to say it out loud, otherwise you'd never work it around you hearing and into your brain. I've watched you extend a great deal of cruelty towards Hermione and while I know that most of it is a show you put on for the world because she is Harry Potter's friend, the fact remains that you are rather cruel to the child.
"As I recall, you were rather cruel to a certain white haired Ravenclaw girl you were supposed to be tutoring during your fifth year as well; that is until you realized she was just that, a 'she'." Dumbledore laughed outright at the uncomfortable expression on Severus's face. "The fact remains that you are a man of habit, Severus. Once identified, your patters are quiet easy to distinguish, and this particular pattern I've seen before. Would you like me to say it or do you think it will sound better coming from your own lips?"
"It's times like these I wish I'd crossed to Voldemort's side."
"Very well, I'll say it. You're intrigued by Hermione, even attracted to her. There's nothing wrong with this. By wizarding laws, Hermione became a consenting adult the moment she entered her fourth year. How else are we to keep our numbers up. But, there is the little matter of you being her teacher, and while the very idea of you abusing power against a student in such a way will never even cross my mind, it could cross others'. So, Severus, my boy, I suggest that if you plan on pursuing, young Miss Granger, you practice the utmost discretion."
Appalled, Severus spoke. "She's a child, Albus, wizarding laws be damned! Those things have been on the books since wizards took to wands, as old as the Dark Ages! Besides, I'm far too old for her!"
The headmaster's laugh was immediately unsettling. "True about the laws, not so true about the age though. Hermione may only look fifteen, but by her liberal use of the time turner, I'd wager she's closer to seventeen by now, and wizards have never taken much stock in age anyway, only intellectual ability to reason and make sound judgments. I believe Hermione possesses both of these things far more than many give her credit for. Beyond that, you are only thirty-five years old Severus, that's hardly an old man! And need I remind you that my own dear wife--may she rest in peace--was a good thirty years younger than I when we were handfasted?"
"Of course not. Elenorra was as much a mother to me as you were a father."
"Ah, that is a very true statement I think." Warm wrinkled hands found their way around Severus's and he looked up and into a pair of eyes that had loved and protected him since he was dropped off at the steps of Hogwarts nearly twenty-five years ago. "You were the son we never had, and I can never thank you for the joy you brought us. But joy should be given to the child, not just the parent, and you my dear Severus, have had such little joy in your life." One of those warm hands found their way to his cheek. "You deserve happiness, Severus, for all that you've sacrificed, you deserve it in abundance. I believe the great Goddess grants what people deserve in the end, and I have no doubt your time will come soon. With Voldemort re-risen, the Death Eaters assembled, and Harry and Morganna nearing the time of the awakening, it would appear the horrors of the last thirty years may very well be coming to an end. The fact remains however, that you have denied yourself the ability to be happy, waiting for this moment to come, and now that it is upon us, I wonder if you'll finally allow yourself your just dues?
"If she makes you happy, Severus, then pursue her. I am under no impression that Miss Granger found your true appearance today even the slightest bit repulsive, and you were always such a vain boy. But be careful, she's very young still and easily broken. Once begun, it must be followed through to its natural conclusion, lest you ruin her for someone else if things don't work out. I know that at one time you had the ability to love and cherish far beyond even the likes of the Hogwarts Casanova Sirius Black, I wonder if you still have it in you?"
With that, Dumbledore, leaned back into his seat and smiled softly to his adopted son. For his part, Severus was silently trying to block his mentor's words, while failing miserably to dismiss the look on Hermione's face when she'd seen his real features in her entranceway.
Knowing that was enough for one day, enough to at least begin Severus to consider such things, Dumbledore changed the subject to more pressing matters. "With Voldemort's return to power, Morganna will not be completely safe unless the entire staff knows about her lineage. I believe it is imperative that we share this information with the faculty directly before the sorting come the first day of term. With Remus returning as our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Black will also return. Minerva already knows, but by informing the rest, we increase the number of eyes and ready wands should there be trouble."
Still half caught up in his mental war, Snape nodded his approval.
Standing, Dumbledore took the teacup from Severus's hands and guided him by elbow into a standing position. "I believe that is enough for one night, Severus. You have a great deal to think about for the next month, and so do I. I'll leave you to it then." With a light pat of his hand against Severus's cheek, the Potions Master took his leave and returned to the dungeons, a clash of dirty blond and snow white hair waging for dominance in his heart. He did indeed have quite a bit to think about.