I'll be there watching from way up high,
The shadow you can't see when the sun's in the sky,
Wondering eyes have no disguise,
It's obvious that this love never dies, never dies...
I'll be your guardian angel, Your sweet company.
No matter where I go, I'll make sure you're all I see.
I'll be your guardian angel, Your sweet company.
No matter where I go, I'll make sure you're all I see.
I'll be your guardian angel(Guardian angel)
Guardian angel(Guardian angel)
Guardian angel(Guardian angel)
Watching over you
-Guardian Angel, Abandon All Ships
Chapter 23: I'll Be Your Guardian Angel, Watching Over You.
September 1995
The trip to King's Cross Station was a hectic affair as everyone ran around collecting last minute items and gathering up pets. It was an organized chaos, as the group of four adults, six students and two Aurors assigned to see them safely to the station, all piled into the two cars Arthur and Kingsley had gotten from the Ministry. There was a flurry of hugs and farewells, before the students hauled their trunks and pets onto the train only minutes before it pulled away from the platform. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione found a compartment to themselves, where they settled in for the long trip. As her three friends made themselves comfortable, Hermione quickly changed into her school robes complete with Prefect badge and prepared to head to the front of the train for the meeting she had been instructed to attend in her Hogwarts letter.
"Who do you think is the other Prefect?" Ron asked, stretching out his legs in front of him as he settled in on one of the seats next to Harry.
"Probably Seamus or Dean," Harry said, securing Hedwig's cage in the luggage rack. Ginny was seated on the seat across from Ron with Crookshanks sprawled on the cushion next to her.
"I'll let you know when I get back," Hermione offered, tying her tie, as she nudged the door open with her shoe and stepped out into the hall.
Dracarys flew out of the compartment, before the door could slide closed on its own and perched himself on her shoulder. Heading up to the front car she ran into a flustered Neville, who was trying to tie his shoes while hopping down the aisle.
"I'm late, I'm so late. I'm going to be the last one there and make a fool of myself," he muttered, as he nearly collided with Hermione, as he stumbled. She caught him by the shoulders to keep the boy from falling onto her.
"Neville, slow down," she said, steadying him, as he straightened up and blushed.
"Sorry, Hermione," he said, "I'm making a right mess of this." He tugged at the hem of his uniform vest and shirt to straighten them, unintentionally showing off the badge pinned to his outer robe. Hermione had to stifle a laugh, as he had tied his tie backward and it was tilted at an odd angle around his neck.
"You just need to calm down," she said, tugging his tie out from under his vest and slipping it loose before retying it properly.
"Thanks." Neville gratefully tucked his tie back in his vest and knelt down to finish with his shoe laces. "I wish I was as confident as you."
"You just need to stop overthinking everything, you were chosen as a Prefect for a reason." Neville stood and the pair began walking toward the front of the train.
"You're much more suited to be a Prefect than I am," he said sheepishly.
"How so?" Hermione asked.
"Well, you are smart and talented, people take you seriously and listen to you when you tell them to do something."
"I suppose," Hermione said in acknowledgment, "but you have qualities I don't have that make you a good Prefect as well."
"Like what… making a mess of things?" he said downcast.
"You said I'm good at making people listen to me, but that isn't necessarily a good thing. I'll admit it: I'm bossy ― and don't you dare tell Ron I said that." Neville nodded quickly. "I like being in charge of things and it is those qualities that make me intimidating to a lot of people. You're someone the younger students can go to and confide in, you're not intimidating, no offense―"
"None taken."
"―and students are more likely to go to you with things than they are me. We balance each other out. You are someone who is approachable by the younger years and I can help keep the trouble makers in line."
"You really think so?" Neville asked unsure.
"Yes, no doubt about it." Hermione smiled up at him. He had gotten taller over the summer and now was as tall ― if not a little taller ― than her un-glamoured self, making him several inches taller than her current appearance. She was still not allowing all of her height and curves to show through; she hoped by the end of the year the image she portrayed of her sixteen-year-old form would be caught up with the general body size of her true nearly twenty-one-year-old self.
"Thanks." Neville said, standing a little straighter, as they walked down the corridor and into the compartment the Prefects meeting was taking place in.
The compartment was nearly empty save a handful of the sixth-year Prefects; a Ravenclaw boy named Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl, and Draco Malfoy, who was trying to extract his arm from a clingy Pansy Parkinson. Hermione plopped ungracefully down on the seat opposite Draco and Pansy, Neville slipping in beside her.
"Unsurprising you're here, Granger," Malfoy stated with an air of indifference, as he tried to ignore the pug-faced girl attached to his person; turning his critical gaze on Neville, the boy shrunk in on himself at the attention and started to fidget.
"Longbottom," the blonde said with what might have even hinted of approval. After all, while Longbottom was no one's first choice for anything outside Herbology, he was ― apart from Weasley ― the only pure-blood Gryffindor in their year. "I was sure Potter was going to be the Gryffindor's Prefect this year." Hermione didn't say anything, simply shrugged and stared at Pansy with an openly curious look; her head tilted to one side like a cat eyeing something particularly interesting.
"What are you looking at, Mudblood?" Pansy sneered, her head on Draco's shoulder. Hermione shook her head as if coming out of her thoughts and looked away, pointedly, but kept casting obvious looks at Pansy's face. "What, jealous you're only partnered with 'Useless Longbottom'?" Hermione leaned forward slightly toward Pansy and whispered loudly.
"You know, you got something green right there," she pointed at one of her own front teeth, "did you know? It's really distracting, did you have something with parsley for lunch?" Pansy gave an undignified gasp and clamped a hand over her mouth, standing, she glared at Draco.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" she accused, before storming off out of the compartment toward the bathroom, her hand still covering her mouth. Hermione smirked contentedly and slumped back in her seat next to Neville, Dracarys crawling down to perch on her knee.
"I didn't see anything," Neville said softly to Hermione, missing the grateful glance Draco sent her.
"That's because there wasn't anything, Neville," Hermione said, running a finger over her Horntail's head and down his neck. Dracarys gave a purr-like sound and set about cleaning his front claws as they waited on the rest of the Prefects to join them.
The meeting was short; mostly for the Head Boy, Head Girl and sixth-year Prefects to get to know the newer fifth-year Prefects. They went over the rules and what was expected of them before receiving patrol schedules. They were also informed that as Prefects they were allowed to take up the position of Student Aid during their usual free study hall class if they would like extra credit or class time in a certain subject. What they were expected to do for their chosen class was unique to each teacher. Most fifth-years chose to keep their study hall given it was their OWL year.
"You could work with Professor Sprout," Hermione said, as she and Neville headed back up the train toward their seats.
"You think she would let me? They said teachers have the right to refuse a student."
"You're one of her best students, of course she wouldn't refuse you," she said, as they stopped at his compartment, before taking her leave to join her friends at the further end of the train, when she was suddenly pulled into a compartment by a jumble of hands. This was how she found herself talking with the twins, as they finally let her in on the big secret that they had been brewing with the two Marauders over the summer.
"We are going into business together!" the pair said with identical grins.
"We have it all worked out; Sirius said he would help us with the finances, and Remus is going to take care of the legal side: getting our products set up as an official brand and looking into finding us a store location. If everything works out we might have a location and might be able to set up a shop before next summer."
"That is great!" Hermione said excitedly; the brothers were finally getting their dream of running a Joke shop off the ground.
"This means that this year we need to get as many products tested and finished as we can," George said seriously, his voice contrasting with the Cheshire Cat grin on his face.
"So if you're planning on having the business up and running by the end of the year," Hermione asked; if their business was going to be up and running in the near future and they were already of age; there didn't seem any reason why they couldn't just drop out now and put their full focus on their shop. "Will you be leaving school to get everything ready?"
"No, by the terms of our partnership with Padfoot and Moony, we have to finish our seventh year," Fred said a little unhappily, and George continued on for him.
"It isn't all that bad, once we get our products trademarked, we're planning on using Hogsmeade visits to scout out another location in the village to expand to. So we will have that to look forward to next year, too."
"And Moony says, any of the 'E's and 'O's we can get in our NEWT's is good in furthering our products, especially in Transfiguration, Potions and Charms. Makes us look professional, he says," Fred added, reclining back in his seat with his legs stretched out in front of him. "We had one thing come up though that we wanted to talk to you about. We were wanting to let them in on our other benefactor."
"Ah," Hermione said, nodding, it had been one of her conditions that they keep her involvement in funding them and her full access to whatever products they came up with a secret, but that had been more to keep her friends from getting curious about what she was getting up to. She wasn't worried about Sirius and Remus knowing, they already held most of her secrets. "You can tell them as they are your partners; it should not break our contract, as long as they are made clear of the terms of our agreement."
"Looks like Hagrid still isn't back yet," Harry said, as the group disembarked from the train onto the platform outside Hogsmeade. For once they could not hear the booming voice of the Half-Giant calling 'Firsh years, firsh years over here!', but the feminine voice of a short grey-haired woman Hermione vaguely recalled seeing last year.
The four followed the crowd, as they all moved to get to a carriage, before they all filled. Ginny ran ahead and peered into one, before waving them to hurry up.
"I found an empty one, come on," she called, before climbing in, Ron hurried to follow her, but Harry froze. Hermione came up beside him to see why he stopped; he was staring at the pair of Thestrals harnessed up to the carriage.
"What are those?" he asked, looking over the black horse-like creatures with equal parts wonder and revulsion. Thestrals were not the most esthetically pleasing of creatures; they were bone thin with black leathery skin stretched across their slight frames and bat-like wings, eyes a milky white and breath of rancid meat. It looked like the steed of the Black Rider of Famine himself.
"Thestrals." Hermione kept her eyes on Harry's face, guilt curling in her gut. "I'll tell you about them later, let's hurry up before they leave us." Harry nodded without a word, finally looking away from the creatures and climbing into the carriage with the rest of his friends, only to find Luna had slipped in sometime while he had been distracted. He did not bring up the creatures to the others; if Hermione knew what they were and would tell him later, then there was no need to go asking around.
The Great Hall looked as magnificent as it always did for the opening feast, as everyone crowded into their respective tables eager for the Sorting and the following feast. The Sorting came and Hermione had to restrain herself from commenting at Ron with an 'I Told You So!' when the Sorting Hat began singing a song of unity for the Hogwarts Houses and of ruin should they not heed the warning.
"―Listen closely to my song:
Though condescended I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfill my duty
And must quarter every year
I still wonder whether sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the signs, read the signs,
The warning history shows
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foe
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you...
Let the sorting now begin."
It had been what she had been saying last Christmas, though more poetical and focused on a larger scale, but it pointed out the fact that the four Founders, all four of them, had been friends. Sure, they had a falling-out with one of them, but they had at one point been friends, and it was that fact that made them stronger and it had led them to build the very school they now sat in.
Dinner was served and there was the buzz of chatter as the students talked about the warning the Sorting Hat had given and the new woman who looked like she had a bottle of pepto-bismol explode in her wash, given the shade of her entire outfit.
"Who is that?" Dean Thomas asked from across the table, gesturing at the pink-clad woman.
"No idea," Harry said with a shrug, digging into his steak and kidney pie. Hermione felt the tell-tale prickle run up her spine and her eyes darted to the teachers table and the new woman there. She had heard from the remains of the Order in her time mention that the Ministry had tried to insert one of their people, a woman by the name of Dolores Umbridge, into the castle and had ended up successfully driving the Headmaster from the school. It had been the starting point of Voldemort's invasion of the school that led to the Headmaster's death along with a number of other students, including Ginny's; and Ron being reduced to a comatose state.
Something was going to have to be done with the woman before she could entrench herself too deep in the school, that was for sure. She seemed completely absorbed in talking to McGonagall, who looked like she wished she had sat at the other end of the table, but still nodded her head at the proper moment in the pink woman's chattering.
Hermione's brow furrowed, wondering if the woman was really so bad that she was putting her nerves on edge just from being in the same room; rolling her shoulders she tried to rid herself of the feeling and went back to her food. The feeling stayed, and she looked back up at the teachers table, but this time she allowed her eyes to scan the length of it; once she had again confirmed that the woman was still talking away with the Deputy Headmistress, her eyes locked with those of Snape, as he glared down at her.
He was watching her over his goblet. She felt a probing at her mind as their eyes met and she allowed her shields to pull back, reinforcing around her more private thoughts and allowing her frontmost thoughts to be viewed without resistance. After all, a fifth-year should not be as skilled as she was in shielding their mind. Her unguarded thoughts were on full view; namely her great desire for dinner to be over so she could indulge in as much chocolate as she could eat before it disappeared and they were dismissed.
He broke the contact, when Flitwick spoke to him and Hermione ducked her head to hide her smirk and went back to her meal. He was getting suspicious; she knew when he visited her house he was still under the impression that Nemo was a man. She also knew that there was a good chance that he knew how long she had been living in that house and her involvement with Black and Lupin. He was going to be keeping a close eye on her from now on.
She smiled to herself, a plot forming in her mind as dessert was served and she grabbed a bowl of chocolate pudding, greedily digging in. While him being so suspicious of her was a pain, it didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun at his expense.
When she felt him watching her again, she made a point of slowly licking her spoon clean, before dishing up herself some more of the creamy chocolate dessert. Grabbing some strawberries from a bowl of mixed fruit, she skewered it on her fork and dipped them one by one in the pudding, before eating it with great relish. His gaze lingered on her for a long moment, as she forked another berry when she felt his gaze leave her and did not return for the remainder of the night.
Finally the dishes were cleared and the Headmaster rose to make his usual announcements of the schools rules and yearly faculty changes, when his usual routine was interrupted by a prominent 'hem, hem.' Dumbledore paused only for an instant, before promptly sitting down like it had been his plan all along, much to the shock of both the students and faculty, giving his full attention to the pink monstrosity.
The woman, Umbridge, stood, smoothing out her sickeningly pink sweater and proceeded through a long, very dull and very enlightening speech in her high school girl pitched voice. Hermione began to seriously ponder the repercussions with the Ministry, if the woman were to suddenly turn up missing. The Ministry was interfering with Hogwarts affairs this year and it made the Sorting Hat's warning ring even louder in her mind. They would have to stand together or risk losing everything.
Having arrived on Friday, the students had the whole weekend before they needed to head to their first classes. Saturday found Hermione and Neville in a meeting with McGonagall going over the requirements for Student Aiding. They were allowed to choose any teacher, but it was highly recommended that they waited until their sixth year to do so, as this was their OWL year. They had two weeks to decide, despite that both Hermione and Neville chose their classes that day, much to McGonagall's disapproval.
Sunday found the Gryffindors flooding their common room to make some pocket money testing out Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes. Hermione wasn't too worried about the students being used as guinea pigs, given that the twins always tried out their own products on themselves before using them on someone else. She did, however, have a word with them about not accepting any first- and second-years in their testing, they were too young and gullible for lab rats. Besides, they would not be able to spend their hard earned money anytime soon, given they were too young for Hogsmeade visits.
Monday finally came, and Hermione woke early and headed down to the front of the castle. Snape was there, waiting for her ― or more than likely ― had just gotten there.
"Good morning, Sir," she greeted, coming to stand beside him, as he stood there at the base of the steps in his grey sweater and sweatpants. She wondered if he had some charm on them so as not to overheat; she found the weather still warm enough that she could wear a tank top with her running pants. She felt bad for the man that he did not have the luxury of being able to wear short sleeves with that damn Mark on his arm. It was peaceful and quiet in the early morning, only broken by the chirp of birds and the soft lapping of waves on the shore of the Black Lake, and Hermione let herself soak it all in as they jogged around the lake. They had long ago found a pace that they both could maintain without having to slow down or speed up to stay together, given Hermione's shorter strides. Soon enough they rounded the lake and made it back to the front of the castle, they slowed to a walk a few yards from the school to cool down.
Hermione laced her fingers together behind her head as she slowed her breathing; these runs in the morning made her feel calm, there was nothing but the burn in her muscles, the crisp mountain air and the path beneath her shoes. It was the closest thing to true contentment she could get; even back at her empty house it felt stifling with all the other homes around her. She toyed with the idea that someday when the war was over she might like to find a place out in the mountains like this, if she survived, that is.
Even the panting breaths of the man beside her did not lessen that feeling; if anything, it added to it. She wasn't completely alone, but the silence between them did not need to be filled. Coming to the steps, he went ahead of her as she said her usual farewell; it was their routine; she would give her polite greeting and he would make some unintelligible noise in confirmation, before they took their leave from each other.
"I'll be expecting you in my office after your last class, if you are truly interested in the Student Aid position," he said smoothly, no trace of the usual roughness that was unique to Severus Snape so early in the morning. She would never admit to what happened next. Caught off guard by his unusual behavior, she tripped and nearly fell face first in the Entrance Hall.
Glaring, she stood there while her eyes tried to bore a hole into his back, as he crossed the Entrance Hall, not noticing her uncharacteristic slip-up. She was supposed to be the one doing things to throw him off his game with her applying for the Student Aid position, not the other way around. He would be expecting her to avoid him, so she had decided to take the opportunity to do the complete opposite and destabilize his investigation. Her tranquil mood had long dissolved as she stormed up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, plotting how to get back at the man.
Hermione was stabbing at her breakfast of eggs and sausage, looking over her schedule, when Ron and Harry came down. She handed them their schedules; McGonagall having been by earlier to drop hers off and left the boy's knowing they would meet her before class.
"Morning," Harry said, sitting down on one side of her as Ron sat across from them. "What do we have this morning?"
"History and double Potions," Hermione said, helping herself to some coffee. Ron and Harry gave a collective groan at the news.
"Hey, at least we have Divination and Defense this afternoon," Harry said, hopefully looking up at the head table; Umbridge was sipping primly from a teacup. Hermione was less optimistic that their Defense lessons were going to be anything to look forward to this year.
History of Magic had been the usual drowse-inducing bore that it usually was and passed agonizingly slow. Afterward found the trio making their way down into the cool dungeons; "Hey, 'Mione, why don't you sit with us this year," Ron suggested, as they entered the Potions classroom as the door swung open.
"I sit with you guys in every other class we share, meals and the common room; I'm sure you can survive one class without my notes conveniently nearby," she said, before breaking off from her two friends to snag her usual seat with Draco, much to Ron's agitation, as he and Harry sat at the workbench next to them with Dean. Hermione ignored Ron's glare, as she tugged Neville down on her other side, before turning to speak with Draco in soft tones. Draco rolled his eyes at something Hermione said, as he pulled out his Potions text; Hermione did the same, shaking her head at his response as the room quieted. Snape closed the door as he entered, calling the class to order, even though there was no need to as they had silenced at his entrance.
They were brewing the Draught of Peace today, a temperamental brew if rushed. Hermione copied down the instructions before standing to go gather her supplies, brushing past Malfoy; her pockets were significantly lighter when she returned to her seat. She had decided over the summer it might be time to start returning some of her confiscated items to her blonde lab partner.
Her potion came together rather well, given this was not the first time she had brewed it. In the later days of her detention in third year with the Potions Master, Snape had allowed her to try her hand at brewing a few OWL level potions for the Hospital Wing. It made her extra careful in brewing the Draught; he knew she could make it, and it would look poorly on her if she fumbled it when it really mattered.
Soon enough the hour and a half of the class began to come to a close and Snape stalked through the isles, looking over the simmering potions. Draco's was awarded five points for producing the proper shimmering silver misty vapor over the surface of his brew. Hermione was in the process of bottling a sample from her cauldron when he paused to inspect her work, she sat back and waited for his verdict. Snape's usual scowl did not change, as he muttered an 'Acceptable', before moving on to inspect Neville's potion that had the consistency of cement.
Neville's shoulders slumped in dejection, as he tried to extract his stirring rod from the solid mixture in his cauldron.
"How did you manage that?" Hermione asked, peering at the boy's work before glancing at the instructions, looking for where the error might have been made.
"I'm never going to be any good at this," Neville muttered, as the glass stirring rod snapped and he dropped the handle in the cauldron.
"You're right," Draco commented dryly, as he stoppered his own sample. "You're an embarrassment to pure-bloods everywhere," he continued with a smirk on his face, until Hermione kicked him under the table.
"You're not helping," she hissed at him, as Neville went about vanishing the contents of his cauldron.
"I wasn't trying to," Draco snarkily shot back, before leaving the worktable to turn in his sample.
At Ron and Harry's workstation Snape laid into the pair; Harry's potion had a dark smoke billowing out of it, while Ron's had been emitting a foul odor and bubbling far more violently than it should. Apparently Harry had missed a key step in his instructions and as a result been given extra homework on the uses of hellebore syrup. Ron's botched brew had been beyond saving and as a precaution to the potions possible imminent roiling explosion, Snape had viciously Evanesco'd the whole thing; though he did not explain any of this to the redhead. He simply sneered at the boy's incompetence, as he instructed the students to turn in a sample of their potion before cleaning up their stations.
Ron was in a right mood by the end of class, having not had anything to turn in and seemed bent on blaming the whole thing on Hermione after her refusal to sit with them.
"Don't blame me because you can't follow instructions, Ronald," she huffed at him, as she packed up her things and slung her bag over her shoulder, "I'm not your mother, I'm not going to hold your hand and make sure you don't fail your classes."
"Why do you insist on sitting with that git?" Ron snapped, shoving his own things in his bag haphazardly, glaring at Malfoy's retreating back as he walked with Zabini out of the classroom.
"I'm allowed to interact with people outside my House, you know," she snapped, brushing past Ron and out the door where Snape was impatiently standing, waiting for them all to clear out so he could close up the room and prepare for his next class.
Ron's bad mood continued as he tried to pick a fight with her all through lunch, until Harry finally stood up and snapped at them to give it a rest. He stormed off with his plate to go sit with Angelina, Fred and another of the Gryffindor team's Chasers, tired of hearing his friends bicker. He didn't like Hermione's insistence on sitting with the blonde git any more than Ron did, but he also knew there was no point in arguing with her without some logical proof of why she shouldn't. It was like fighting a losing battle and Ron just had to keep picking at it.
He had kept his comments to himself when he had come down to breakfast to see her already there, and by the state of her plate she had been there a while. He didn't want to bring up the topic of Snape that early in the morning, if she was continuing to meet the Potions Master before classes. He had not brought it up again since Ron and Hermione's big fight in the Great Hall last winter, there never seemed a right moment with her pouring over her research for the Second Task, and when that was over she had finally made up with Ron and the trio was together again. It had not even crossed his mind to confront her over the summer while they had been at Grimmauld Place.
Now that they were back and without the distraction of The Triwizard Tournament Harry was finding his anger at Hermione's nonchalant attitude rising. Sirius and Remus had pulled him aside last year and explained a few things, mainly the point of why Snape seemed insistent from the first moment he had set foot in the school that he was a trouble making degenerate. He had taken in all the information in stride at the time, and Snape seemed to be content at the time to ignore his existence when he didn't do anything to draw his ire.
Now, in the new year, he found himself not caring about any of it. Not Snape's excuses for being a bastard. Not the fact that Dumbledore chose Neville ― the walking disaster that he was ― over him for Prefect, and not Hermione's insistence on interacting with people that were not only in Slytherin House but those on the top of his list of people that reminded him of his treatment when living with the Dursleys.
He sat there, angrily stabbing at his food as he tried to distract himself with Quidditch talk and staying there until the last minute before leaving for his next class. Making a point to ignore the extra potion work and bottling up his anger; because he was Harry Potter, what's a little extra homework compared to living through yet another attack on his life just a few months ago.
Hermione left Ron shortly after Harry's departure; deciding to head to her Ancient Runes class early and getting a head start on her History of Magic essay for Binns while she waited on the class to start. When she finally met up with the pair again in the Defence classroom, both Ron and Harry seemed to have cooled off, as they sat down in desks on either side of her without any remarks.
"Good afternoon, class," Umbridge greeted them in her sickly sweet voice, there were a few mumbled greetings in return.
"Tut, tut," she said in reprimand, actually going so far as to say the words rather than making the 'tutting' sound with her tongue. "This won't do, no, this won't do at all. Now, the proper reply is 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time class… good afternoon class."
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class parroted back obediently. Hermione set her quill down as she finished writing down the notes on the blackboard; things were beginning to look more daunting by the minute: a class that taught a strict 'Ministry Approved' regiment, that was highly disproving of the casting of spells outside their OWL exam. As everyone opened their books with some great disheartenment, it looked like this year Defense was not going to be a class they would look forward to like the previous two years.
Hermione did not even bother opening her book as she pulled out a sheet of parchment and began jotting down a rough draft for her Ancient Runes essay. Ron cast her a questioning glance even as he and Harry reluctantly opened their books and put up the appearance of being thoroughly engrossed in their reading. She did not pause in her work even as she heard the click-clack of heels coming up behind her along the aisles of seats.
"What is your name?" came a nasally high-pitched voice at her shoulder.
"Hermione Granger," she supplied, dotting her last line before laying down her quill and giving her full attention to the toad woman.
"Why, Miss Granger," the Professor began, primly slipping the paper off Hermione's desk, "are you not reading the assignment?"
"I already read that chapter,"Hermione supplied with a smile as genuine as Umbridge's own.
"Then do proceed to the next one," the woman stated, punctuating her point by tearing the paper in half. Harry seemed to take offense at the treatment of Hermione's work, he opened his mouth to protest when a sharp grip on his knee brought him up short.
"I have already read that one as well," Hermione continued, not breaking eye contact with Umbridge, the innocent smile still plastered on her lips.
"Then―"
The girl cut her off without seeming to, as she turned her gaze down at her text book and began flipping through it after releasing Harry's leg with a warning squeeze. "―and the one after that, and the one after that. I've read that whole book, in fact, it was rather lacking in my opinion. Unless, of course, you are planning on backing the theory in the practical lessons."
"You are mistaken, as you have obviously been misinformed; according to this Ministry approved regiment, you can learn the proper method of spell casting in the structured safety of a classroom. There is no reason for you to cast them outside carefully controlled examination conditions."
"How is that supposed to prepare us to be productive members of society and for any dangers we might come across out there, particularly those that choose to become Auror?"
"All the more reason for you that you must pay attention in my class." Umbridge continued to tear the paper into smaller pieces, not noticing that after the first tear all the ink writing had vanished from the surface. "For those of you that wish to join the Auror force then: you must pass a strict screening process before joining; if you manage that, then you will learn the more advanced spells used to uphold the laws set by the Minister and Wizengamot."
"Ah," Hermione nodded in the most condescending tone she could muster, the phrase 'There are no Death Eaters in Great Britain' coming to mind with a note of truth when it came to this woman. She obviously had brainwashed herself into thinking there was absolutely no reason in the world one should be able to defend one's self. Even everyday magical folk should know at least a few spells to defend themselves against any dangers they might come across when dealing with everyday things in the magical world. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," she muttered, as the Professor's attention was caught by the raised hand of another student. Pulling out another paper from her bag, she wrote another line on her essay outline that had appeared on the new parchment.
"Yes, Miss―"
"Parvati Patil," the dark-haired Gryffindor supplied. "Professor, if we are not going to learn anything practical then how are we supposed to prepare for our exams?"
"If you study the theory hard enough, there is no reason you should not be able to perform the spells in your OWL exams."
"You can't be serious!" Harry finally exploded next to her, and Hermione let out a sigh. Harry was going to let this woman manipulate him just the way she wanted.
"Hand, and you are?"
"Harry Potter, You can't seriously expect us to be able to perform these spells for the first time in our exams!"
"As I said before―" she began, but Harry's budding temper was on a roll.
"And what about if we are attacked or―"
"Attacked," Umbridge scoffed and yet still managed to turn it into a lady-like exclamation. "Who would you imagine would want to attack children like yourself?" The prim woman practically goaded Harry, even as she smiled as he seemed to be walking right into her trap.
"I don't know, maybe Lor―" Harry cut himself off with a hissing breath, as Hermione gripped his leg warningly, this time with the added effect of her nails digging through his trouser leg. She sent a look at him that said 'Shut up before you get your foot stuck in your mouth'; he looked like he might start yelling at her instead, but kept his tongue.
"There are actually quite a number of things, why just from my personal experience alone; a troll, really big dogs, a Dark wizard who snuck into the school and―" Hermione said, drawing the Ministry woman's attention away from Harry and back on herself. She had made her point, now even the thickest of her classmates were aware that the woman was not going to be teaching them much of anything that year.
"Hand, Miss Granger," the Professor snapped, before covering the outburst with a forced smile. "Now, if you are quite finished?"
"I have one more thing to add, Professor," Hermione stated without pause, not allowing the woman time to protest. "―a Ministry sanctioned tournament." With a smug grin on her face she went back to writing on her paper, not phased by the next words from the Professor's mouth.
"Detention. See me after class, Miss Granger."
"What was that all about, Hermione!" Harry shouted at her as soon as she came out of the classroom, after staying behind to receive the details of her punishment. "Why did you stop me? They need to know that He's back and that the Ministry is trying to hush it all up."
"Harry, you really don't get it, do you?" Hermione snapped back, shaking her head as she led the two boys away from the class room and down a less traveled hall with fewer prying ears. "That was exactly what she wanted, she wants someone to blurt out that He's back just so she can discredit them to the whole school; that is why she isn't teaching us anything this year. Anyone aware of the situation and impulsive enough is sure to lose their temper and point a big target on themselves."
"What about you, aren't you worried she is going to come after you?"
"From what I have heard; that woman has issues with Muggleborns to begin with, she would have come after me regardless. I simply manipulated things in my favor."
"Your favor," Ron stated disbelievingly, as he gestured at the note in Hermione's hand, "you got detention for a week. How is that in your favor?"
"Before class, did either of you guys have any idea that she was planning on sabotaging our Defense lessons for the year, with the Ministries approval, no less?" Both boys shook their heads, "Now we do, and so does the whole class. It won't take long for it to reach the rest of the school as well. She wants to make an example of Dumbledore after what happened over the summer, and anyone else she can discredit is a bonus. You are the next best thing, Harry; everyone knows Dumbledore is rather particular about you, and it would be easy for them to make you out as some attention seeker. They didn't believe Dumbledore, so unless you have some hard proof you can show right now then it's best to remain quiet."
"They need to know," Harry stressed. "You don't understand, Hermione, what He is like. I can't just sit back and not do anything when I know he is out there."
"I didn't say we shouldn't do anything, but blurting out to anyone who will listen won't help at this point. Dumbledore tried that and it failed quite spectacularly."
"What should we do then?" Ron asked.
"I'm not sure yet," the brunette girl stated after some thought, "maybe you can come up with something."
"Me?" Ron blurted out, astonished.
"You're the chess master here, think of this as a game of chess. You wouldn't go for the obvious move, would you?"
"No," Ron said, after thinking it over, "I would make moves to keep my opponent unbalanced, draw them out so I can get at their king."
"There you go," Hermione stated, much to Ron's confusion.
"But this isn't chess."
"I think she means," Harry started catching on, "that we need to lay low and wait for an opportunity to expose Voldemort."
"Exactly," she said, hoisting her bag on her shoulder more comfortably, before breaking off from the boys.
"Hey, where are you going?" Harry asked, watching her head off in a different direction.
"I have Prefect things to see to before my detention. I'll see you guys later."
Her first stop was McGonagall's office to turn in her detention note. The woman was understandably cross with her, a detention on the first day of class was never a good thing. Leaving her Head of House's office, eating a biscuit, she checked her watch before heading down to the dungeons. She was late for her first day of Aiding, Snape was not going to be pleased. On her way down she caught sight of Ron from a window, heading down to the Quidditch pitch alone. It was odd, usually he would be with Harry or one of his siblings if he wanted to play. Figuring she could ask him later, she headed down into the lower regions of the castle.
Severus had been glaring at his office door for the past five minutes, five minutes that were pointlessly wasted and yet right now he didn't care. Granger was ― he checked his wall clock ― ten minutes late now, and a million scenarios were running through his mind. If he had to say one thing about Granger, it was that she was punctual; so her tardiness was highly unusual. Was she relaying information to her guardian ― or to Nemo; or was she tailing Potter, keeping tabs on him.
He was drumming his fingers on his desk now ― fifteen minutes late, he noted ― he was about ready to write her off as a no-show, when a knock came at his door.
"Enter," he called, after picking up his quill and continuing to work on the stack of summer work in front of him. Granger walked in without a word of apology and presented him with a note, a glance up at her showed she was eating a cookie that looked suspiciously like the butterscotch treats Minerva kept in her office.
"You're late," he stated scornfully, even as he glanced over the note from the Transfiguration professor and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. How had she managed to get a detention on her first day, a week of detention at that? Not even he gave out detentions on the first day of class unless the student was doing something truly imbecilic, but those incidents usually involved someone going to the Hospital Wing first.
"Professor Umbridge and I had a difference of opinion concerning her class."
"A difference of opinion?"
"I thought Defence class should actually contain the teaching of the actual casting of said defensive spells, given the example of my previous years of taking the class. The Ministry believes otherwise and I have been properly corrected."
"I see," Severus stated, dipping his head to continue his work on his current paper, his curtain of hair obscuring the small smirk that graced his lips for a moment. He had been on the receiving end of Granger's opinion concerning her Defence Against the Dark Arts class before, he was quite interested in what the girl had said to rile the pink monstrosity that he had the misfortune of calling a colleague.
"Well, seeing as your time will be otherwise occupied for the later part of your evenings, you will be tidying up the classroom from my last class and laying out anything I will be needing for tomorrow's classes," he said, pulling a sheet of paper from his drawer and passing it to her.
He rarely got an Aid in his class and never one outside his own house, so he had been reasonably taken off guard when he had received an application from a tight-lipped Minerva over the weekend. He would usually have them start out by cleaning out all his storage cupboards, given that it was something he rarely got around to himself, but since having Granger do just that two years back there was little to do other than the general clearing out of dust and doing an inventory of his supplies. Something he knew from experience would not take her very long to complete, so he figured he would be playing a lot of her tasks by ear. At least with her preparing for his classes was something that he could have her to do most days and it would be something to free up some of his own time. He might even be able to get through his mountain of summer work before the new terms essays and potions started to pile up.
Hermione clenched her fist on the desktop, the knuckles giving an audible crack as they popped under the pressure. She forced herself to relax as the cuts on the back of her hand sealed up as quickly as they had been carved. When she had pondered what Umbridge's detention might entail ― while making sure all the work stations in the potion's classroom were clean and set up for the next class ― she had not expected torture.
She wrote out another line under the first, this time prepared to the slices that appeared in her skin with each stroke of the quill. She had not expected that a Ministry worker would stoop so low as to resort to such a medieval form of punishment.
Pausing to rub at the scars on her ribs, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose; focusing on the pain in her hand, not the memory that was forcing itself in her mind with every stroke of the quill. Releasing the breath she continued writing for another few minutes before looking over at the professor, who was currently sitting back in her seat watching Hermione work with far too much enjoyment.
Hermione sent her a small smile that lacked any kindness, as she tapped the black feather against her cheek. She had been entertaining fantasies of how to get rid of the woman since she had entered her class earlier that day, now it was clear that the woman had to go, and the sooner the better. With this development the woman had just assured that, when Hermione finally dealt with her, there was going to be no mercy. The use of such a barbaric item on anyone would have been severely frowned upon, but the use of it on children was something unforgivable.
"Eyes down!" Umbridge chided, sipping from her cup, before she went about tidying her already overly tidy desk. The tip of the black quill scraped loudly against the parchment; with every stroke the urge to stab the woman with the cursed quill was becoming increasingly hard to resist.
"That is enough for tonight," Umbridge stated, setting her teacup aside with a satisfied smile on her lips.
"You won't get away with using this on students, you know," Hermione said, placing the quill backwards in its case on the Professor's desk; the woman frowned, righting the quill before closing up the box.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about," she said, unperturbed, no doubt she was just waiting on someone — anyone — to stir up trouble just so that she could write to the Minister and make an example of how poor Hogwarts was run under Dumbledore.
"I'm sure you don't," Hermione stated, picking up her school bag without pause, not giving the woman the satisfaction of seeing her favor, the still red hand. She made no move to apologize as her bag bumped roughly into the desk, knocking over a cat figurine that began yowling in its tipped over position.
"You should learn to control that temper of yours, Miss Granger," Umbridge stated, placing the blood marked parchment to the side and righting the figurine, silencing it.
"You have yet to find what it is for me to truly lose my temper," Hermione said softly, as she moved to leave, the amused look on Umbridge made it clear that she was not worried at the student's words in the slightest.
The week passed with agonizing slowness; each morning she seemed to have a harder and harder time getting up and moving, a side effect of her nightly blood loss. Each night of detention was finding her writing more and more lines, resulting in more of her blood decorating the parchment. The fresh air from her morning runs and a good breakfast was enough to get her going at first, but as the days passed even that wasn't enough.
Harry's attitude did not help matters; every morning she could feel him glaring at her when he entered, but by the time he took his seat by her with Ron the look was gone. Harry was angry for some reason, she wasn't sure why nor did she have the energy to puzzle out his current change in mood. Ron on the other hand was strangely distant. Apart from their shared classes and meals she hardly saw him, even Harry had begun questioning the redhead as to where he had been slipping off to in his free time. Ron had clumsily evaded the line of questioning and scampered off to the common room, while Hermione headed down to the dungeons for her 'Prefect duties'.
Her hand was growing increasingly more raw with each passing night she spent in detention with Umbridge. Afterwards would find her patrolling the halls during her designated time, looking for students out of bed and periodically passing other Prefects going about their own patrol. She was grateful for the time mostly alone; as the days passed her hand was taking longer and longer to heal from the injuries the cursed quill inflicted. By the time she arrived back at the deserted common room late Thursday night the letters carved into her hand had still yet to disappear.
It was Friday morning and Snape growled in irritation, his face buried in his pillow, as his arm quested out in search of the object on his nightstand. It was a long minute before his fingers found his wand and silenced the alarm on his bed. Setting his wand back on the table, he folded his arms back under his pillow and for a moment was tempted to doze off until breakfast, but like every other morning he shoved the temptation of warm silk away and got up to start his day.
Pulling on his usual running sweats, he downed his first cup of coffee and headed out of his private quarters. He was not a morning person and preferred to wake up gradually; usually a run, a shower and a couple cups of coffee was enough to make himself presentable in the morning, before joining the rest of the school for breakfast.
He was heading up out of the dungeons and toward the Entrance Hall, when wings flapped at his head and claws sunk into the back of his neck through the collar of his sweater. Bringing his arm up he swatted the creature away, it gave a squawk and detached itself from his sweater and landed on the stone floor of the Entrance Hall. Snape ran a hand along the back of his neck, checking his hand for blood; it was clean. He scowled at the creature that had attacked him, and the miniature dragon hissed at him in response. It was too early for this.
"What, you infernal beast?" he snapped at the creature; the Horntail snorted in response, before taking flight again. Severus raised an arm to swat the beast away if he attacked, but the dragon landed on the outstretched arm. He nipped at the Potions Master's sleeve before arching his head up and let out a high-pitched trill. Snape blinked confused, he had never seen the dragon act like this; it was odd. Walking the last few feet to the door outside, he peered out, Granger was not out there; not unusual, given he normally arrived first.
"Go back to your mistress," he said, shaking the reptile off his arm before turning to head out the door. Dracarys latched onto his sleeve again with all four talon feet, he pulled on the fabric pulling in the direction of the stairs that lead to the main set of staircases. Severus shook his arm, trying to shake the beast off, and was rewarded as the dragon let go, promptly before snapping his head out like a striking serpent and biting the Potions Master soundly on the arm.
"Fuck," Snape spat, as the dragon glided away and landed on the banister of the staircase. Rolling up his sleeve, Severus inspected the teeth marks, indenting the skin just below his Dark Mark. Little drops of blood began beading from the deeper punctures like pinpricks, where the longer canines had punctured through the fabric of his shirt. Burning black eyes glared at smug slitted yellow ones; the man swore there was a self-satisfied smirk pulling on the dragon's scaly lips. A forked tongue flicked out in mockery, as if daring the Potion Master to retaliate. Severus stalked across the Entrance Hall to the stairs, it was far less dramatic given his lack of billowing black robes. Palming his wand, he shot a Stunner at the reptile that leapt off the railing and flew up to the top of the stairs, landing on the top step. Dracarys snorted out a cloud of smoke as if to say 'Is that all you got?'. It had the intended effect as the professor took up the chase up the stairs and down the hall.
The dragon darted around a corner, a Stunner barely missing his tail as he disappeared.
Snape's scowl deepened, wondering why he was chasing this bloody beast all over the bloody castle at too-freaking-early-in-the-morning. He rounded the corner, eyes darting around, looking for the blasted dragon, when he caught sight of Granger. She was sitting on the floor, looking exhausted as she sat there with her eyes closed, her head resting back against the stonewall of the corridor.
She had not seemed to have noticed him as she picked at a bandage on her hand. He had noticed she seemed to become more rundown with each passing day, though she hid it well in her classes; she seemed less guarded in the mornings with him, though, and he had noticed.
Today she looked even worse; her sun-darkened skin was pale and her posture drained. He guessed she was simply run down from late night studying and her detentions with Umbridge. She looked worse than she had the previous morning and he wondered if there was something more at work than he knew. With a sigh she pushed herself up off the floor and stood, catching herself on the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Shaking it off, she moved to continue down the hall when she caught sight of the cross looking Potion Master.
"Sorry, sir, am I late? I didn't think―" She shook her head, trying to straighten out her muddled thoughts. "You didn't have to come look for me."
"I wasn't," he said clippedly, his voice irritated and lacking its sleepy roughness it usually held this early. "Your infernal beast bit me."
"Crooks ― why would he do that?" Hermione mumbled louder than she intended.
"Not your cat, the other one," he snapped.
"Oh, I think he's half way back to the tower by now," she said, absentmindedly pointing back down the hall. Snape ground his teeth in irritation, before shoving his wand back up his sleeve.
"Come on," he growled out, as he turned and stalked back down the hall toward the stairs; he knew he should have just had a lie in that morning. Granger followed him quietly as they headed downstairs and out onto the grounds. Their run went on as normal, until they were coming up on the final stretch and Hermione's fatigue began showing through, as she began to stumble. Her foot caught on a bit of uneven ground and she tripped, a hand caught her before she could fully lose her balance. She hissed at the contact on her hand and jerked out of his grip.
"Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?" Snape asked, his attention drawn to the bandage wrapped around her hand.
"No, it's nothing," she said dismissively and walked off ahead of him. He began to wonder if the girl was breaking down already in the first week of her OWL year; his mind briefly recalling the crisscrossing white lines of scars he had glimpsed during her time in detention with him two years back. He had written her off as not being a risk at the time, but the prospect of upcoming OWL exams could be a stressor for anyone.
"Granger," he called after her in a tone that allowed no argument. "What is wrong with your hand?"
"It's nothing, just a little raw from writing lines for that―" Her voice darkened before she forcibly stopped herself and took a deep breath, before continuing in a calmer tone, "for Professor Umbridge."
"Show me," he ordered; she wasn't saying something. She tugged on her bandage agitatedly until it came loose and held out her hand palm up. He grabbed her hand and looked over the unblemished palm before turning it over, and his eyes rested on the inflamed cuts decorating the back. The words, 'I will respect my betters' clearly written in her skin as if carved by a fine tipped knife. The skin around the words were red and the edges torn in places from her scratching.
Then the symptoms were clear to him, the dizziness he had witnessed earlier along with the increase in her lack of energy. It was all symptoms resulting from the blood loss that occurred from the prolonged use of a Blood Quill.
"Have you told anyone about this?" he asked, tightening his hold on her wrist as she tried to pull her hand out of his grip. He responded by gripping her hand with both of his so that she could not get loose as he bent closer for a better look. The cuts had not healed like they were supposed to and were deep particularly at the starting stroke of each letter. There was little doubt that even if treated it would scar at this point, there was little to be done with such Dark magic other than to numb the pain until it healed over on its own.
"There is no point," she stated, looking away.
"The Headmaster could have―"
"Could have what?" she snapped, yanking her hand forcefully from his grip and beginning to rewrap it. "The Ministry is just looking for an excuse to remove Dumbledore from Hogwarts. That is the whole reason she is here, right? I'm not being her excuse to get her claws dug any deeper here."spinning on her heel she stalked off, back toward the school.
Severus scowled after the stubborn girl, of course he knew she was right; that did not mean he liked the situation anymore than he already did.
By the end of the day Hermione was drained, her classes finished with little fuss and a lot of homework followed by a trip to the dungeons for her teacher aiding duties. Snape had been there long enough to let her in before disappearing down into his private potion's lab, leaving her to finish her usual work alone. He did not reappear again until she was packing up her things to head to her detention.
"Granger," Snape barked, catching her attention before she could leave as he entered the classroom with a small box. "Take this to the Hospital before you move on to other engagements for the evening, be quick about it I'll not be your excuse for being late."
"Yes sir," Hermione said as she took the box after slinging her bag on her shoulder.
"Granger, this too," the Professor said holding out a jar. Hermione took the jar and read the label written in a now familiar handwriting, 'Murtlap Essence; apply liberally over cuts and abrasions as needed.' Glancing up to thank the man she was met with trailing ends of black robes as he exited the room without another word.
Author's Note: So sorry for the long wait guys! I wanted to get the next two chapters done before posting this but all I manage was getting parts done. I also ended up cutting the end off of this chapter and moved it to the beginning of next; after 10k words my brain shuts down creatively and refuses to do more until after I have posted and moved on to the next chapter.
I got seriously distracted playing Assassin's Creed; finally made it through games 1(had to play this twice because my disc defective and corrupted file when I was nearly finished so I played through again only to have it glitching again near the end. So I technically will not be able to finish it till I get a new copy), 2, Brotherhood, Revelation, 3 and got part of the way through the 4th Black Flag which is my last one so I should have more time for writing now. I have also been dividing my time on this story and a Dragon Age:Inquisition story that needed a good chunk of research for the last chapter.
Well I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I really liked writing the Snape parts. Especially the one with Dracarys. XD i believe someone way back when I first introduced the little dragon wished for a scene where Snape was bit; well here you go ;D. Umbridge I found was rather hard to write, I think I will b e happy when fifth year is over or Umbridge is dealt with in a permanent manner; which ever comes first. I have the great urge to make Dracarys bigger and lock the Toad in a room with him.
Next: Chapter 24: Yesterday We Were Just Children Playing Soldiers Umbridge entrenches herself even more into Hogwarts as High Inquisitor, making life for the current residence miserable. Hermione is struggling to keep her secrets when she and her friends begin preparing their classmates for the coming war. And Snape makes a discovery that with turn his current views of those around him upside down.