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Chapter Seven
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Serapha shuddered as she made her way into the library. She really couldn't recall meeting anyone as . . . *odd* as 'Professor' Trelawney. The woman was utterly certifiable. Sighing as she sank into one of the ornate chairs, Serapha felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, and heartily wished she could laugh about the dreadful woman. She couldn't, however.

It was certainly a calculated risk, tempting fate and all that, to send the very woman portrayed in the vision to her son, but she was counting on her son to dig his heels in simply because she had picked the twit. She *really* couldn't see any way her son would choose her now, nor, for that matter, how he might come to choose her on his own. She simply couldn't imagine a worse match.

**Merlin! That woman is too much.**

Unfortunately, Serapha had never had a false vision, and she was the only one who knew her son was about to make a disastrous mistake, one she simply had to prevent.

Lost in her thoughts, Serapha didn't realize she wasn't alone until a young girl, no, young woman hesitantly approached her. She was quite surprised when she was addressed.

"Are you all right, Ma'am?" the young woman asked.

For the first time that day a real smile found its way to her face. "Yes, child," she replied, "Thank you. I am simply tired."

"You're welcome. I just wanted to make sure. I didn't mean to disturb you."

**So polite,** Serapha thought.

"You didn't, child."

"Good, then," she replied. As she turned to leave, however, she hesitated. "Is there anything I can help you find before I leave? I mean, I don't know if you came here for the quiet, or whether you're having trouble finding something. But if you are, having trouble I mean, I know the library pretty well."

Serapha laughed quietly. It felt good. "Now, before I answer that, I've just got one question for you."

"Okay."

"Did you ask because of curiosity or a genuine desire to help?"

The girl blushed bright red, no polite, attractively pink blushes for this girl. She stammered a moment, then slumped. "A bit of both, I'm afraid."

Serapha laughed fully then, quickly cutting off the sound before she disturbed any students who might actually be studying. "Sit down, child. It's been a long while since anyone has made me laugh like that . . . especially by simply telling me the blunt truth."

Looking at her warily, the girl sat, taking the chair nearest Serapha.

"So," Serapha began, "what's your name and do you enjoy it here at Hogwarts?"

The girl grinned, the slight movement of her lips heavily outweighed by the delighted sparkle in her eyes. "Hermione Granger, Ma'am. And yes, I love it here. There's so much to do, so much to learn." She blushed again, this time it was a fetching pink. "I spend a lot of time in the library reading."

"Please, call me Serapha."

Hermione Granger's smile brightened, lighting her entire face. Serapha blinked as she realized it changed the girl's whole appearance.

"Then, please, call me Hermione."

"Tell me, Hermione, which classes here are your favorites?"

Serapha listened to the girl, who seemed only too delighted to talk about her classes, she rattled on easily about all the subjects she was taking. Moving quickly on to how it was quite difficult to choose a favorite, because they were all special in their own way.

"Though," she said, frowning slightly, "I have to admit that divination is my least favorite. I just don't see the sense of it. So, I dropped it years ago in favor of Arithmancy."

**So, not a seer, then. No shame in that.** She continued listening, but wasn't really paying all that close attention . . . until the girl mentioned potions.

"Potions is in a class by itself, of course, so different from all the other classes. I love it, despite the professor that teaches it."

Serapha had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the look for chagrined horror that suddenly flit across Hermione's face.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about any professor here. He's brilliant, really, just . . . a little hard to get along with."

"Really?" Serapha asked, amused.

Hermione nodded, still looking rather uncomfortable with the subject. "Yes," she said simply.

"So, what about potions intrigues you so," Serapha asked with a slight smirk as she discreetly hesitated before continuing, "in spite of the difficult professor?"

Despite her continued embarrassment, Hermione couldn't hide her enthusiasm. Her entire body came alive as she spoke of her love for the exacting work of brewing potions.

Serapha was truly surprised by it. From what she knew of her son -- she'd certainly heard plenty over the years -- she hadn't thought he'd be capable of instilling that kind of love for his chosen subject in a student.

**Merlin take it!** she thought. **Too bad the chit's a blasted student!** With a purely internal sigh, she acknowledge that but for that one flaw, she would be perfect. She was obviously smart, if Serapha was any judge, and even more importantly, understood 'the mystery of potions'. The girl was probably very good at it, too. She simply couldn't see *anyone* enjoying Severus' class if they weren't -- no matter the circumstances.

"How old are you, Hermione?" she asked abruptly, cutting off the excited flow of words from the girl.

"What? Oh! I'm Eighteen."

**Eighteen?** "Started school a little late, then?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, no. I wanted to take *all* the classes my third year, and Professor McGonagall let me use a time turner so I could get to them all. It was an amazing year." She frowned, then her mouth quirked up into a wry grin. "It was exhausting, actually. I haven't done it since."

"I'm surprised that was allowed," Serapha replied, shocked. Time turners weren't something handed out without a *lot* of thought. She had trouble believing any child would be mature enough to handle the responsibility in their seventh year, let alone their *third*.

"I've always been something of a . . . bookworm, you know the type, I'm sure. The 'responsible' one." Hermione dropped her gaze just as she caught her lip between her teeth. "Even so," she continued quietly, "it came with a *very* long lecture, and Professor McGonagall keeping very close tabs on me."

Staring intently at Hermione Granger, wondering how she could get around the obstacle of her being a student, Serapha noticed strike number two -- the patch on the girl's robe.

**A Gryffindor,** she thought with disappointment, not that she actually had a problem with it. She knew Severus would, though, and while Serapha was reasonably certain she could have worked her way past one of those two things, both of them left her in a bit of a bind. No, it just wasn't possible. She supposed she should have realized that at the beginning. It was too much to hope that her dilemma would that easily solved.

On that note, she wished there was time to wait. She almost growled in frustration. Why did her son have to be so . . . difficult to choose for? It was utterly preposterous. That's what it was.

"Why did you ask my age?"

"Curiosity, dear, curiosity," Serapha lied easily, noting with amusement, the doubt clearly written in Hermione's expression.


TBC
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