disclaimer: JKR owns these characters. I'm borrowing their likenesses as close as i can get them as of the end of book 5.
Chapter 2: An Offer
(You're A Big Girl Now)
Our conversation was
short and sweet
It nearly swept me off-a my feet...
You made it there somehow
You're a big girl now.
- Bob Dylan
"Welcome, Hermione," said Dumbledore pleasantly from behind his desk. Hermione hurriedly straightened up from retrieving her letter and quill from the floor of the Headmaster's office, and attempted to formulate a response.
"Th- thank you, Sir..." she trailed off, wondering whether or not she should address the other occupants of the room as well. On either side of Dumbledore, in chinz armchairs of varying states of lopsidedness, sat nearly a dozen of her former teachers, each of them gazing at her intently.
Seeming to recognize her unease, Minerva McGonagall gave Hermione a brief smile, and said bracingly, "No need to be worried, Miss Granger. Have a seat."
Hermione looked behind her to see a small pouf that looked like it might have been summoned from Professor Trelawney's old classroom. As she balanced herself on the edge of the pouf, Hermione pushed back one of the surges of guilt that had become so frequent over the last few years. Even now, she couldn't keep herself from inwardly snorting at the thought of how seriously that old fraud had taken herself. Don't be so critical, admonished a voice in Hermione's head. That old fraud was one of the first victims in Voldemort's attempts to regain his old power. But it was in her nature to judge, to find fault, though this same nature that had driven her to academic success had also wrought havoc on her conscience when those people she had mentally labeled (silly, arrogant, stupid—such childish name calling) had fallen, one by one, in the war.
All of this went through Hermione's mind in a second, like it did at some point almost every day. With some effort, she switched her mind back to the present.
"Hermione." Dumbledore was speaking again, his eyes twinkling through his half-moon spectacles. "I suspect that you are wondering why I have brought you here in this... unusual fashion."
Hermione nodded slightly, and again her thoughts began to race towards horrible possibilities.
"I would first of all like to assure you that you did indeed pass all of your N.E.W.T.s," Dumbledore continued, pleasantly. Hermione almost laughed aloud in relief, and as she suppressed her elation with a sigh, she noticed for the first time the looks on the faces of her audience. McGonagall had her lips pressed as tightly together as ever, but her gaze was far from stern. Professors Sprout and Vector were beaming, and Professor Flitwick looked as though he had just been on the receiving end of a cheering charm. Madame Pince looked strangely vindicated, and the pearly Professor Binns seemed more aware of his surroundings than Hermione had ever seen him. Snape wore his usual scowl, though at the moment it looked rather less surly than usual.
"I, and of course all of your professors, have long since recognized your aptitude for scholarly endeavours," continued Dumbledore. "And so when the administrators of the N.E.W.T.s brought your scores to me with the suggestion that there must be some, ah... error, I was able to assure them that the results were in fact correct. I would like to congratulate you, Hermione, on receiving the top mark on every N.E.W.T. that you sat for..."
He was interrupted by applause from Professor Flitwick—maybe he had gotten in the way of a cheering charm, thought Hermione—that was quickly taken up by each of the other teachers. Professor McGonagall had given up on holding back the tears of pride that had been welling in her eyes, and Madame Hooch exclaimed a hearty "bravo!" Even Professor Snape joined in, clapping slowly but not as grudgingly as Hermione would have expected. She was struck again by a thought that had occured to her on occasion before: that the best thanks a teacher could receive was to see her students excel. Certainly, Hermione had rarely had this feeling when helping Ron and Harry study, but then again those sessions had been much less "teaching" and much more "correcting mistakes" and "looking the other way while the boys copied lists of the common mistakes in switching spells or the common potion ingredient substitutes."
Dumbledore smiled as he waited for the clapping to die down. Hermione's face was by now very hot, and she wondered if her ears would go as red as Ron's did. She very much doubted it.
"As remarkable as that achievement is, Hermione, there is more." Hermione looked at the Headmaster. What more could there be than getting the best marks of anyone in her year?
"You have earned a perfect score on one of your exams—a feat that has not been accomplished, on this particular exam, in twenty years."
"Which exam?" asked Hermione eagerly.
"Potions. No, Hermione, I did not mis-speak," added Dumbledore, as Hermione started and looked up at him disbelievingly.
Potions? But that had been her worst O.W.L. score—Snape had hardly agreed to let her into his advanced potions class without having earned the Outstanding O.W.L. In the end it had taken a fierce conversation with McGonagall to convince him to continue teaching Hermione despite her "constant blundering" and "excessive dependence on book-learning and rote memorization." Just the memory of that meeting made Hermione furious. He had known that she was one of his best potions students, and that one forgotten ingredient during the O.W.L. practical did not make her a "blunderer." But still Snape had forced her to fight for a place in his advanced class. He had made her beg and he had enjoyed it. It had been at that point that Hermione had stopped forcing herself to be fair to him, given up reminding Ron and Harry that 'Dumbledore trusts Snape,' lost the shreds of respect she had always quietly held for his attention to organisation and exactitude. It was funny, Hermione suddenly realized, that her hatred of Snape was what got her this perfect Potions score. If she hadn't worked so hard to prove him wrong, to spite him into admitting that she was not only competent, but good, she would have spent more of her studying time on Transfiguration or Ancient Runes.
Take that then, Snape, thought Hermione fiercely. As her defiant eyes met his she felt a flash of terror as she remembered that he almost certainly knew what she was thinking, if not from ligilimency, then from the triumphant glare she realised she was fixing on him. She turned her head back towards Dumbledore, but not before noticing a very slight but unmistakable expression of amusement in Snape's dark eyes.
That bastard. My one moment of triumph over him and he's taking it away. It was by no means the first time that Hermione had contemplated a well-placed kick to the middle of Snape's robes. This time she took a second to wonder whether a quick jab from her knee or one with the toe of her boot would be more painful.
Dumbledore brought her once again back out of her thoughts. "As overwhelming as all this might be to you, I do have one last point of business to discuss with you before sending you back home to share your news with family and friends. I expect you have been wondering why I brought you here during a full staff meeting just to tell you your test results."
"Oh - well yes, a - a bit." Hermione hadn't actually thought about this much; between the worry and relief of the last several minutes she had only thought about the presence of her teachers long enough to appreciate the familiarity of their faces and to miss those who were missing: Trelawney, Firenze, and most of all, Hagrid.
"As you know, I am once again in the position of trying to fill the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
This was unexpected. Hermione, for a brief second, imagined that Dumbledore was about to offer this job to her, and she opened her mouth to protest that if anyone so young should teach that subject, it should be Harry. But as quickly as this thought had come, another, more convincing one followed. Don't be stupid, Hermione. Stop with the snap judgements. Of course he's not offering you a job. Listen to the whole story
"As he has in the past, Professor Snape has offered to assume teaching duties in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And I am pleased to be able, this time, to inform him," Dumbledore turned to look at Snape, and Hermione realized that he was waiting as eagerly as she was to hear what would come next, "that I would very much like him to do so." Snape's black eyes glittered in long-awaited triumph, and Hermione again felt a surge of anger at the happiness of her former professor.
"On one condition." added Dumbledore.
The eyes of every teacher were on him, and Hermione realized that she was no longer the only one in the room who didn't know what to expect.
"That condition is that you, Hermione, are willing to assume the post that Severus is vacating, and that you, Severus, are willing to train Miss Granger in the requirements of that job."
No one spoke.
Dumbledore, looking slightly amused, admitted, "I suppose those are two conditions, rather than one. But I am sure you will forgive my imprecision."
The silence in the room continued, and Hermione realized that many of the portraits on the wall had stopped feigning sleep, and were fixing their eyes on Dumbledore. She didn't know what to say. An offer to teach at Hogwarts, for someone as young as she was... well it was obvious how high of an honor that was. To stay at Hogwarts, to continue learning, to make Potions class something that students wouldn't fear... this opportunity was something Hermione hadn't even considered hoping for. But Potions had never been her favorite subject—the only reason she had done so well was to get back at Snape. Snape. No, there was no way Hermione could look at a summer of private tutoring from Snape that would make it seem like anything less than the torture it would assuredly be. And from the dark cloud that had once again covered Snape's face, he wasn't too excited about the prospect either. Hermione looked up at Dumbledore, trying to find the right words to refuse his offer.
But Dumbledore interruped her thoughts. "I would like both of you to take some time to think this proposition over. I am sure that Miss Granger has many other opportunities available to her, and I expect that Professor Snape, as much interest as he has in Defense Against the Dark Arts, might find a separation from his Potions classes to be more than that other subject is worth. I will therefore ask the two of you to reconvene with me tomorrow at this same hour—perhaps a smaller audience than is here today—at which time we shall discuss this plan more fully and you will be able to give me your answers."
Snape nodded curtly, and Hermione felt herself nodding as well. Taking their cue from the Headmaster, the rest of the teachers began to file out of the room, many of them smiling encouraginly at Hermione. Snape left the room last, his cloak swirling through the doorway, and Hermione turned vaguely around her, wondering how she would leave. As if in answer, Dumbledore reached out his hand for the parchment that was still clutched in Hermione's hand, lay it on the desk, and muttered "Portus" as he tapped it with his wand.
"This will take you back to the Burrow, Hermione," said Dumbledore warmly. "And it will bring you back here at 11 o'clock tomorrow morning. I know you will give this offer sufficient thought. Congratulations again."
As she touched her letter and felt the familiar lurch of the portkey, Hermione's last vision was of Dumbledore smiling down at her.