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 3: A Decision

(Mixed-Up Confusion)

Well, there's too many people
And they're all too hard to please

Well, my hat's in my hand
Babe, I'm walkin' down the line

Well, my head's full of questions
My temp'rature's risin' fast

Well, I'm lookin' for some answers
But I don't know who to ask

- Bob Dylan

"You're going to WHAT?"

"He's letting Snape WHAT?"

"Oooo, Hermione, this is fantastic!"

Ron, Harry, and Ginny had each reacted differently, and each predictably, to Hermione's summary of her meeting with Dumbledore. Hermione had sat a moment after the portkey dropped her back in her room to prepare herself for the expected onslaught: Ron's mingled shock at the idea of her becoming Professor Granger, and disgust at the prospect of another of them suffering private lessons with Snape; Harry's automatic fury at hearing that Snape was getting something he wanted; and Ginny's not-very-well-disguised realization of all that seventh-year potions class could be with one of her best friends as her teacher.

"I'm not going to do anything, not definitely at least, at this point, Ron," began Hermione patiently. "And Harry, as much reason you have to hate Snape - and I'm not even a little bit saying that you're not somewhat justified in that -"

"Somewhat justified? Hermione, Snape goaded Sirius into rushing off to the Ministry! He ratted out my PARENTS to Voldemort! He allowed.. we don't even know how many of our friends he allowed the Death Eaters to murder without any warning! I don't care how 'critical' his inside information was for us that last month or how much 'personal risk' he went through to get it; that man is still evil."

Hermione gave a tiny, desperate sigh. "I'm not disagreeing with you, Harry. But even though he did do all those horrible things, he's still about the third most knowlegeable person on the Dark Arts who's... well, who's still alive."

"Behind who? Me and Dumbledore?" asked Harry, still frowning but now making an attmpt to control the level of his voice.

"Yes, and since Dumbledore's already got a job, and you're starting Auror training in a few weeks now that you've got the scores to clear it, he's the next best option!" inputted Ginny. "Though oh, it would be grand if you put off the Auror stuff for a while and came back to school, It'd be like the D.A. again, only we'd write essays for you to mark, and you'd make lesson plans and get to discipline your students and give punishments and all that. My year is full of troublemakers... Professor Marplethorpe had to keep me after class near once a week last term for jinxing Smith whenever his back was turned."

"Don't be stupid, Ginny," scoffed Ron. "Harry and I just got free of essays and detentions and punishments. He doesn't want to go back to deal with all that rubbish, do you... Harry?"

"What?" Harry turned to look at Ron, shaking his head a little as if to dislodge a large bug or small bird that had landed on it.

Hermione rolled her eyes in the direction of the boys and aimed her conversation towards Ginny. "Ginny, you know it would be a conflict of interest to have you in my class. If I even took the job," she added, rather lamely.

"Not in potions!" countered Ginny. "Either the potion's right or it isn't; you can't play favorites like you could in Defense, or History of Magic, or classes that have a lot of tests and essays!"

Ron snorted and Harry took a breath that Hermione was sure would be expelled along with some choice words about just how well Snape had succeeded in playing favorites as Potions Master, but before he could start speaking, Ginny fell into peals of delighted laughter, and Harry choked on his words as he saw an ugly little garden gnome scurrying past the window, a handsome Firebolt in hand.

"He's got my broom!" Harry shouted, incensed, as Ginny followed him to the backyard, giggling at what looked to be the start of a really amusing show. Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione.

"Harry's Firebolt is kept locked in the broom shed..." he said warily. "One would have thought that the gnomes would have started stealing brooms a long time ago if they were capable of digging under those foundations, or," he moved closer to the window, "picking the lock and leaving the door swinging wide open, as seems to be the case this time." His eyes were now so narrowed that Hermione doubted he could actually see her replacing her wand in the back of her jeans, but she was proven wrong when he lunged at her, closing one hand around her wand wrist, the other arm gripping her waist.

"Tell me what you've done," Ron demanded, "or else I'll..."

"You'll what? Hug me to death?"

"Oh no, hugging's a matter for misdemeanors like turning my pants pink or bewitching my shoes to waltz when you bloody well know that no Weasley man dances in his living room to the wireless. This level of... of... witchery," he faltered a bit, and covered by lowering his face threateningly towards Hermione's. She licked the tip of his nose.

"Goh, ech, girls! Are. Disgusting!" said Ron, letting Hermione's wrist go to wipe his nose, and then crying out in surprise. Somehow, his moment of distraction had given Hermione the leverage to push him back into an armchair and straddle his lap, lowering her face mock-threateningly down on his.

"What level of... witchery... is this?" she asked, smiling a bit at Ron's thwarted but still far from upset expression. He thought a moment as he extricated his arms from the chair's cusions and explored Hermione's back for the best grip.

"Wicked," he decided, and pulled her down to him.

As much as she was enjoying the novelty of a kiss peppered with laughing rather than tears, after a while Hermione pulled her head away from Ron's, and swiveled around so that she was sideways in Ron's lap, with her legs dangling over the chair's arm.

Ron cocked his head at her, and she kissed him once more, briefly, before starting to speak.

"Look, Ron, apart from the whole Snape thing, what do you think about Dumbledore's offer?"

"Apart from the Snape thing, there's not really anything left, Hermione," he chuckled. The lightheartedness of the kiss seemed to have colored his mood a bit, because he was reacting to this with much more humour than Hermione had expected. But then he'd never had quite the level of hatered towards Snape that Harry had. Or that she herself had devleloped during sixth and seventh years, for that matter. It wasn't that Ron had liked Snape - far from it - but between Harry's deep-seated loathing and Hermione's furious indignance, Ron had done what no one, least of all Ron himself, would have believed he could do, and become something of a voice of reason. Though still a long way from being a Snape cheerleader, he had probably saved Snape's life in that final battle. It hadn't been anything glorious, or actually anything conscious, just a few gasped words reminding Harry that he needed to hurry, to catch up to Voldemort, instead of running after the man he hated second most in the world.

"He was different, Ron. When I saw him this morning, I mean. He looked almost... almost not furious."

Ron laughed. "That was probably his delighted face, Hermione. I expect old habits die hard - he had to spend who knows how many years pretending to hate half the world, and actually hating the other half. Maybe now he's back to being the cheery fellow he was before he turned Death Eater and double agent."

"Still, I don't think he was strictly happy to give up his job, especially knowing I would get it. But it wouldn't be like Harry's Occlumency lessons, being trained by him. It won't be fun," she laughed sharply, "but it could be standable."

"Ah, standable. That just happens to be the exact description of my future job in the Department of Magical Transport."

"Oh, Ron. It'll be boring at first, I expect, as long as you're someone's assistant, but then who knows what could open up. And I hear that Transport has the best intra-Ministry Quidditch squadron there is!"

"It's not a 'squadron,' Hermione, it's a 'team,' or possibly a 'squad.' But yeah, I reckon it'll be fine. So, do you think you'll actually... do you think you might..."

"Take the job? I rather think I will, Ron. I know Harry won't take it too well, but he's got to understand that I fit in best where there's learning and lessons and -"

"And piles of books to read?" Harry stood in the doorway, Firebolt in hand. Outside, Ginny could be seen spinning a potato-like something above her head.

"Harry, I know you don't like this -"

"No, I don't. But I can see how you could. And I suppose... well, now that most of the dark wizards are dead, or in Azkaban -"

"Thanks to you!" put in Ron.

"Thanks to us," corrected Ginny, who had appeared behind Harry with streaks of mud on her face and slightly wild hair.

"Er, yeah, thanks to us, there's not really as much of a need for defense as there is for potion-making, so I guess it's as well that someone decent teach potions."

Hermione looked hard at Harry. She knew he was right, but she could also feel how hard it was for him to say it. She smiled, and made her decision. "I'm going to take the job. I'm going to give Hogwarts' students a good potions master for a change." She paused, and drew herself up to her full, if not impressive, height before continuing.

"And I'm going to give Snape just the hell he deserves this summer."