She woke early, but felt grateful for it later: The overlarge grandfather clock in their dormitory, probably older than its inhabitants combined, showed four in the morning when she made her bay to the prefects bathroom. The intense perfume filled her head, which was still oddly empty and heavy at once. Deeply relaxed, she got back to the common room some time after five, having met several ghosts throughout the corridors ("Exams coming up, huh? Oh you're right to take good care of yourself!", the Fat Friar laughed, holding his belly, excusing her wanderings). Mrs Norris sneaked upon her as well, but by the time Filch made it up to the tower, she was back in the dormitory, dressing in school robes alongside Parvati, who usually got up early to do her hair and make-up properly.
"No need to neglect yourself like a peasant only because we've got exams coming up", she explained, taking her seat in front of her mirror, both drawer and glass broader than her actual image.
"Any chance the Sorting Hat thought about putting you into Hufflepuff?", Hermione recalled the remark of Huffplepuff's ghost.
"Yes, indeed, he did", Parvati replied, voice moved only in order not to ruin the precise eye pencil'S line, "How would you know?"
"Never mind." Hermione gave her hair the brushes it needed, then decided she would rather wait downstairs for Harry and Ron than be lectured on nuances of witche's proper everyday maquillage. Harry obviously had decided to either abandon or ignore the matter of Occlumency, as they greeted her friendly, but maintained their passionate exchange on whether to re-apply for Gryffindor quidditch team next year. Engaging in plans for the upcoming school year had become one of many ways to cope with Hogwarts hardships under Umbridge.
"Just ninety minutes of bullshit between us and the weekend", Ron summarized their timetable when they took three seats at Gryffindor table for breakfast. "And I think I've got this non-linear viscosity stuff in potions covered." He helped himself to a large portion of sweet porridge, tossing in a good fistful of fruits.
"You have?", Hermione and Harry replied in unison. Harry's surprised tone swallowed her disbelief completely.
"Yes, I have", Ron stated confidently. "This Januarius was a bi-shot, right? These muggle clowns who dress in purple and -"
"A bishop, Ron", Hermione corrected, grinning from one ear to another.
"Yeah – whatever – one of these clowns dressing others what to think and work and pray – and call that a living", he waved away her interruption, "I've been to the library, and in the section of muggle studies, they keep an copy of Liber Officialis. It's all biographies of these bishops in there, or the official version of it, at least", he laid out. "So Januarius is said to have worked miracles, as excreting blood which clotted as soon as it exited his body – big deal – but liquefied decades and centuries later."
Stunned, Hermione had long withdrawn her attention from her cornflakes. "You do spend time in the library on your own?", she acknowledged.
"With a book Hermione has never even heard of?", Harry added, equally puzzled.
"You two sound awkward", Ron did not even look up from his meal, oblivious to their expressions, "Anyway, this Laws of Non-Linear Viscosity, it's clear what motivated him for that discovery, isn't it?"
"Is it?", Hermione inquired.
"This guy's transgender", Ron summarized his discoveries, making both of them roar with laughter. "Dried blood melting, I beg your pardon", he rolled his eyes, "That bloke just got himself hired in a position he would never have to show his true colors to anyone, getting a period every month among strict hetero males. And happened to know a thing or two about potions."
"That is the – most creative – backstory – I've ever heard", Harry squeezed out, while Hermione wiped tears of joy from her face.
"I'll save it for History of Magic when I've written all I can remember", Ron grinned. "Hard to disprove, don't you think? So they'll have to let me pass."
"Probably", Hermione reassured him, completely uncertain whether he had just expressed a reliable strategy. She did not overlook his subtle uneasiness about failure, but their exchange was far too light-hearted, far too long missed in its easiness and unification to unsettle it in any way.
Still in an unusual good mood, they headed for Umbridge's classroom, to be joined by figures with blue and yellow crests pinned to their blouses and shirts, since it was already too hot to wear their heavy robes.
"Is it just me", Harry whispered about five minutes before the bell rang for classes to begin, "Or are we short of Slytherins?"
Hermione, having closed her eyes so far in silent revision of Metamorphism Spells from fourth year, let her gaze sweep over the students. Harry was right: No sign of a green sleeve or collar among them.
"What's that supposed to mean?", Ron frowned, "Are they exempted from Defense? Training for application in the meantime?"
"Let's not meet trouble halfway", Harry voiced what Hermione was thinking, "We'll run into it soon enough."
Minutes passed, but only as the door opened, a handful of Slytherins rushed to join them in the carefully arranged, neatly tidied seats. They all looked even paler than usual, spending most of their free time in a common room far from sunlight, and none of them wore a Squad members sign.
Those who had managed not to notice the strange absence of most Slytherins became finally aware of their surroundings when they found Umbridge's classroom empty, except for the well-known and despised stack of books on the teacher's desk at the front, but even those covers had a different color today. She did not exactly miss the constant watch from Squad members from their side-lined row of seats, Hermione thought as she put her bag beneath the desk and grabbed for her copy of Slinkhard's book, but not knowing their whereabouts hardly meant any welcome progress in Hogwarts.
On top of that, she had not been looking forward to hearing a certain voice, not today at least.
"You will excuse our headmistress", Snape sneered from the back of the classroom, slamming the door shut behind them. No light above the ground eased their feeling of being locked in with him, as a closed door in the dungeons made them usually feel.
"She has urgent Ministry business to attend to and will resume teaching on Monday."
Do bats feel comfortable in the sun?, Hermione wondered as he rushed to the front, waving his wand. In a manner unmistakably learned from Umbridge, the pile of books rose from their plain wood and began to disseminate itself onto the desks in front of them.
Its pitch-black, leather and doubtlessly valuable cover was oddly familiar to her. Opening Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy, the leather cracked from stiffness, acquired through decades of disregard. She smelled a mixture of sweet rotten paper and what was most likely Doxy droppings.
"Today we will discuss a currently neglected topic in wizarding history", Snape laid out, magically merging their most hated topics without even raising his voice. "The narrative of traditional wizarding community upholding the values of a more selective -", he cast a meaningful look at the scattered Slytherins, who dared to smile, "approach to the distribution of magical knowledge. One might even be tempted to call it -", the same expression to Harry, but emptied of all appreciation, to be replaced by reproach within the fracture of a second, "subversive."
Another flick of his wand, and a narrow black board unrolled itself up from the desk where the books had laid, "You will need your quills and some space on your parchment."
They struggled to suppress a groan, Snape's idea of a small amount of parchment regularly extended to at least two rolls of such.
"Now who of you can tell me", Snape inquired, "The core values of what we call 'pure-blooded' families?"
Who's 'we' in this sentence?, Hermione silently shot back, maintaining a straight face. Doesn't your question already impose a certain view upon your students? Is that how you teach questioning a narrative, she ranted on, by cementing the perspective, as if it was not one of many – least of all absolute?
"No one?", Snape broke their silence after a few minutes, as the room was filled with nothing but growing heat. "Let me see. Mr Macmillan, your family is regarded as pure-blood, even if your fitting Sorting into Hufflepuff covers that most successfully. What values does your family pride itself upon?"
"Tradition", he growled.
"Tradition", Snape repeated, as Ernie's statement appeared on the board, "What else, Miss Durmont?"
"Discipline", replied a slender Ravenclaw student.
"Mr. Ruffles."
"Determination."
"Almost as if taken directly from the book in front of you", Snape sneered, before the term appeared on the board as well. "Where it's listed in a subcategory of Discipline. Someone else?"
"Loyalty", one of the Slytherins offered the first voluntary contribution.
"In essence, correct, but to whom, Miss Aguire?"
"Loyalty to one's family", she replied. Hermione had hardly ever noticed her before, but her most average light brown hair, freckles and slightly overweight statue were most likely responsible for that.
"One of the core values in pure-blooded families, as every one of you should have figured out on their own", Snape supported her. "Miss Bones."
"Ambition", Susan replied, completely off guard.
"Quite what I'd expect from the niece of the first female Head of Magical Law Enforcement", he framed her reply, "But no. Not according to our literature. Let me see."
His dark eyes hovered across their heads, passing over the Slytherins, who had raised their hands, and ended up to the student Hermione had expected him to browbeat first. "Mr Longbottom."
But much to her (and probably everyone else's) surprise, Neville looked neither nervous nor in any way intimidated. Face flat, sitting up straight, he answered his name calm and steady.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Mr Longbottom, what is one of the key values of your pure-blooded family?"
Tension rose among them like the temperature in blazing sunlight.
"The key value of my family", Neville replied, loud and clear, "Has nothing to do with our blood."
Twenty students held their breath at the same time, it seemed.
"Nothing to do with blood", Snape repeated. "So tell me then", he rushed toward Neville, who gulped, but kept his head up undeterred, "What is the core value of your family?"
He spoke hardly louder than a whisper, but they listened to him as if the sound was the last fizzle of a fuse: If it stopped, the blast was imminent.
"Courage", Neville answered. "On top of all of the above."
And to her greatest surprise, his entry appeared on the board, followed by a thin line drawing a frame as they were watching: Obviously the Genealogy ignored Snape's intention to tease his students any further. If any other student ever has to pull the sword of Gryffindor, Hermione silently acknowledged his daring, hiding a warm, glowing pride in him, it would be you, Neville. You've come a long way from the boy terrified by boggart-Snape, and I so much hope that anyone will be able to see this change in you one day.
Snape quickly recovered from his defeat. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for refusing to answer my question in the first hand", he punished them, "As you tend to engage in dissident behavior in our discussion, you will read on the relevant chapters for today's topic, as you're used to. You'll find the key questions", he drew his wand, still facing Neville, who did not mistake the gesture as accidentally threatening, "On the board."
Their task was not nearly complicated as theses for Umbrigde's essay, and Hermione suspected him to draft them easily accessible on purpose: With four weeks until exams, none of them would make any effort in pretending to devote themselves to subjects irrelevant to those.
Give reason for the authors focus on traditional marital rites as key feature to pure-blood families identity.
Point out the essential promise in a traditional pure-blooded Marriage Vow.
"Most of you might want to start with the latter, for it probably contains most intersections with your routines", Snape gave them a hint, causing Hermione, Neville and all students loathing their potions teacher to switch into a most alert state of mind: Snape never voluntarily offered any support with an assignment.
"Page two hundred-seventy six", whispered the the average Slytherin girl loud enough for Hermione to hear, who quickly relayed the suggestion to her fellow students. She wondered whether that Miss Aguire had known by heart where to look up their source material, and then, if she was willing to recognize this knowledge as a virtue at all. Then, slowly, a faint uneasiness swelled inside her like water in a glass from an Aguamenti Charm: Would this be only the first time that familiarity with a topic, prior to its teaching, rooted in having been born into the wizarding community, turned out almost a disadvantage?
She dived into their task, pushed by the desire to make up her lag behind the Slytherins. At first glance, the second part was insultingly obvious, as a traditional Marriage Vow consisted of nothing else than an Unbreakable Vow. Therefore, all non-magic folk were excluded. Yet, taking Snape's hint into consideration, Hermione was sure she had missed an important feature if she maintained this position. Indeed the task referred not only to the procedure, a special form of magic in this case, but asked for aspects of its content. The essential promise in an Unbreakable Vow, given at a marriage ceremony, she repeated to herself. Snape must have been ridiculing them, she decided after a few minutes of intense deliberation on the subject, and went on to the first part of their task. This phrasing turned out to fit her taste much better: Vague terms like 'identity' were usually of least priority, but elaborating on them or defining them according to a subjects standards had earned her a result of more than hundred percent once in a while. But first things first, Hermione disciplined her mind: Snape had asked for an explanation of why Marital Rites were so important. Completely aware that she was already taking her lack of knowledge far too personal, she intended to give him one.
As it did not say 'vows' in the first question, but with a focus on 'rites', students were usually expected to give a short description of those first, on which their further text would be based upon. The anonymous author – and Hermione had a distinct feeling which surname he must have carried at some part in his or her life – had hidden very little information in extensive deliberations, wasting much parchment on ornamental details. She recognized a few participants in the superfluous metaphors, but their symbolical implications were of no concern to her now. Only once her interest was mildly stirred: The text mentioned a special rite to 'uncover the tangled roots of young, passionate engagement' the night before a wedding, and tied this 'privilege' to the bride's father. If she was not mistaken, the 'tangled roots' served as a hint to tango, the traditional Argentinian dance, and 'roots' posed a reference to literal roots of Argentinian Sour grass.
So Snape had not lied to her at the library the other night. The insight was met with a calm, soothing feeling, and halfway through the next paragraphs, she noticed the absence of a feeling in her. She was not surprised he had told her the truth. Did I trust Snape without even realizing?, she wondered. Did I get stuck on overthinking things last night, when I was so – it took her much more courage to admit this than she would have cared to admit openly – when I was so hurt by Nott, that I almost abandoned a serious and honest offer of support?
Pushing this doubt and ambivalence from her mind turned out much harder than expected, and quite in contrast to her usual achieving manner, Hermione had only half finished their task when Snape raised his voice again.
"For the remaining ten minutes, we will summarize your findings", he pointed to the black board, which still bore Tradition, Discipline, Loyalty and Courage in neat handwriting, supplemented by a headline Traditional Marital Rites as they were watching, "Before your carefully taken notes provide you with useful source material for an essay -", the groaning rang through class in unison, "concerning standard procedures - that is: the carefully planned, undisturbed, swiftly carried out routine – and at least two examples of crises, and the coping with these occurrences. To be handed in one week after exams."
"Professor", the average Slytherin student raised her hand, "What do you mean by 'crisis', plural?"
"Miss Aguire, with your O.W.L.s straight ahead, I rely on your profound knowledge of theoretical conceptions on routine and crisis", Snape denied her an explanation. Mentioning O.W.L.s caused all of them to shiver in anxiousness, but some displayed an expression of slight panic, not limited to occur above green collars. Hermione suppressed a malicious smile. Her intensive studies proved rewarding as she was used to: 'Crisis' simply meant 'something gone wrong'.
"We will limit our deliberation to one example of Marital Rites, and point out the fourfold set of values in the concept", Snape went on, ignoring their nervousness, "Any volunteers?"
Hermione did not ave to turn her head to see no one raise their hand.
"Seriously?", Snape savored on their palpable occupation, "None of you's able to provide a description of -"
She raised her hand, against better judgement.
"Ah.", he acknowledged her move. "Now I had hoped", he stated in a low, clear voice they had learned to anticipate a diminishing remark, "That your role of an insufferable know-it-all might be limited to my potions class."
She did not budge.
"Will any of you -", he cast a dark look at the few Slytherins in the back row, "- refuse to be lectured about pure-blooded traditions by -", a nasty quirk in the corner of his mouth, "a muggleborn student?"
The attempt to motivate them proved fruitless, producing only lowered and red faces after a few minutes.
"We will hear, then", Snape sighed, "Our most prominent muggle born student outline the relevant aspects of newly established pure-blood marriages."
"The stag night is usually hosted by the bride's family, with a male family member serving as host in the occasion", Hermione laid out, unwilling to look at him, "And its her father's duty to serve the guests with a drink mixed from Argentinian Sour Grass Roots, and witness the consumption of said brew by all attending members, especially the groom." Her heart hammered against her chest as if she had run from the dungeons to her seat. "The guests will then withdraw into closed chambers, only to leave for the actual ceremony and exchange of Vows again. To non-magic humanoids, during these hours, the consumption turns out fatal. It says so on page two-hundred fourty-nine, two chapters prior to the required reading."
"It does not say so on these pages", Snape cut across her, "Miss Granger, will you grace us with the exact words you derived these insights from?"
"The reference is metaphorical", she defended herself, "And phrased as duty to, qoute, uncover the tangled roots of young, passionate engagement, unqoute."
The black board proved again ignorant to Snape's bickering: Hermione's words appeared behind him, complete with a reference to the source material.
"If we assume your interpretation -", his emphasis did not express appreciativeness, "to be correct, how are traditional values expressed in this procedure? Mr Ruffles."
"Hosting a feast for bride and groom on their last night as unmarried couple is in line with tradition", replied the black haired, well-tanned, sturdy Hufflepuff, "And the host applies severe measures to discipline his daughter into marrying according to ancient standards concerning what the family considers a worthy husband."
"Half of the content we discussed today", Snape replied, "Two values are missing. Miss Jocaster?"
"A daughter will remain loyal to both tradition and discipline in her family, since a dead fiance is hardly worth abandoning them, Sir", a stern Slytherin girl answered her name, and left it at that.
"So where does courage come in?", Snape inquired.
Their subtle anxiety had faded, Hermione noticed, and made way for a depressed, heavy silence. She almost forgot that apart from her, perhaps only the addressed students might have heard of this procedure, whereas for all other students, the idea of a host poisoning his guests on an otherwise happy, hopeful occasion must be terrifying.
"Any idea?"
"It takes courage", the average Slytherin girl raised her hand, "To place all other values over the choices and wishes of one's children, and choose tradition, discipline and loyalty above everything else."
"Twenty points for outlining the key points of pure-blood narrative, Miss Aguire", their professor ignored her speaking out of terms, "Five points for each part", he nodded to Ruffles and Jocaster, "And one for the daring, almost arbitrary interpretation of the source material. We proceed -", Snape, very much his usual self, ignored Gryffindors angry reactions to his distribution of acknowledgment, "To the second part of your task. The essential promise in Marriage Vows."
To their surprise, the black board disappeared on his silent command, leaving them to take notes on their own, and, more important, decide over anything similar to an objective truth upon themselves.
"First, what's characteristic for such in pure-blood families?"
Hermione did not bother whether they had raised their hands before speaking up. "The traditional approach would be an Unbreakable Vow", the slender Ravenclaw student answered. "But it's used in only very few families nowadays."
"Because few stick truly stick to -"
"That will suffice, Miss Aguire", Snape stopped his house's student from engaging in an argument with her, "Miss Durmont has pointed out an obvious, if not negligible distinction. Yet the essential promise consists of something else."
He let his gaze wander over them, but faced empty expressions. He made his way from the front desk through the room, hands crossed behind his back, looking at no one directly.
"The promise does not ask for a certain deed or special commitment in the marriage", he gave a hint. "Think of it as in terms of refraining from doing something, a negative demand, so to speak."
He had reached the back of the room, turned as if he had ages to spend with them, then walked back to the desk in front them, expression as empty as theirs.
"I do seriously hope", he finished his stall by facing them again from ahead, "That your reluctance to answer can be explained by a misplaced sense of shame, and is not due to abhorrent naivety."
The atmosphere had changed again: Most students looked anywhere else but their teacher in the eye, some had blushed, others held their arms crossed before their chest. Only Neville, Susan and two Slytherins looked rather bored than reproachful. Ron seemed awfully tense.
"We'll then stay faithful to your routine in situations of lacking participation", Snape decided, and within seconds, stood built broad and high in front of Hermione.
"Miss Granger", he sighed, expression as if someone had forced him to take very bitter medicine, "Will you then point out the essential part of mentioned Vow."
"Sir?"
"In layman's terms, if you have to."
"I don't know."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I do not know, Sir", Hermione repeated, and, taken by a reckless daring, looked him straight in the eye.
"Succumb to one of your lofty interpretations, then", Snape replied, with impatience roaring in his chest like a hungry lion.
"I have not been able", Hermione forced herself to answer honestly, "To draw an adequate conclusion concerning the key promise."
The lion must have been slashing his insights, tearing flesh from his chest to feed on anything at all: For the fraction of a second, he laid his hand flat on his sternum, as if to assure himself it was still whole. Then their teacher turned on his heels and hurried back to the front desk.
"In order to amend your blissful ignorance, you will permit me to state this once, in words for everyone accessible", he raised his voice, "The Unbreakable Vow in traditional pure-blood marriages requires the participants to promise to each other that they will never, ever again fuck someone else than their spouse."
She felt her face flush, she could not help herself.
"Till death do part them, of course."
She never figured out whether the bell was controlled by a certain magic to ring as soon as a lesson actually ended, or Snape simply exercised a most sophisticated timing in his teaching.