2003

Hermione bolted down the corridor toward the Great Hall, completely forgetting to be nervous or to find her teaching robes unfamiliar. Late, and only to my second meal … and they all have to wait until I get there …

She'd stayed late in the Library, long after Luna had announced that she had scanned two years back-issue of The Daily Prophet and was going to bed in order to be awake before dawn to search for Fibblideens. Carefully not asking what Fibblideens were, Hermione had wished her good night, closed her own books, and reached for the second stack she'd collected.

Two feet on the Unbreakable Vow, Professor Snape had set her. Almost certainly, he'd been merely baiting her, and wouldn't expect her to actually do the essay. And he can't exactly give me detention if I don't.

But he'd been right. Hermione would have made a dangerously imprecise and broad vow, without thinking it through. And Minerva pulled me up twice when we were talking.

Words were as much a part of magic as intentions, and she'd allowed herself to grow sloppy with them over the past few years. Potions didn't care what you said to them, and she'd spent more of her free time with her parents than with other witches and wizards — certainly a great deal more time than she'd spent with witches and wizards older than she and Harry and Ron were, who might have chided her back into the habit of being precise.

The Unbreakable Vow is made by one party to another, and requires a third party present to complete the spell, she'd started her essay. Traditionally, it consists of three promises.

The first recorded instance of an Unbreakable Vow was the Vow made by Ignius Maddigan to Hannah Gamboni, witnessed and sealed by Jericho Summerset, in 1214, although the lack of detail included in descriptions of the event is an indication that the Unbreakable Vow was well known at the time, and readers were expected to be familiar with it.

Her quill had scratched across the parchment, filling one inch, two, twelve … She'd finished a foot-and-a-half by the time she'd set out the history to her satisfaction, and begun a new paragraph with There are several accounts of Unbreakable Vows that did not work as at least some of the parties intended.

In 1529, the wizard Millnius Fillius Robertson sought to bind the witch Hazel Pattermore to serve and protect him by means of forcing her to make an Unbreakable Vow by threatening the life of her daughter. Hermione had chewed the end of her quill. Was it relevant to mention that the daughter had been a Squib, and completely unable to defend herself? Robertson abducted Pattermore's daughter, a Squib, and confined her in his manor house. He required Pattermore to Vow that:

1) She would not attempt to free her daughter

2) She would use her powers as Robertson directed her to, without hesitation or mental reservation.

3) She would be loyal to Robertson until 'her last breath'.

Pattermore made the Vow, and then, not having sworn to keep her circumstances or that of her daughter secret, took the first opportunity to send her Patronus to her husband with a full account of what had transpired. Then, taking advantage of her severe allergy to roses, she chewed a mouthful of rose petals. The resulting swelling closed her windpipe, which fulfilled the conditions of having taken 'her last breath'. Released from her loyalty, Pattermore promptly cast a voiceless curse on Robertson. The nature of this curse is unknown, however, when Pattermore's husband, family, and allies arrived shortly afterwards, they found both Pattermore and Robertson dead.

Which served Robertson right in Hermione's opinion, and not just because he'd failed to think through the wording of the Vow.

Finding three more examples had taken longer than she'd planned, and it had been the small hours of the morning by the time she'd crawled into bed. As a result, she'd overslept, and was now —

Dashing through the doors into the Great Hall, she saw with great relief that the others hadn't had to wait for her. Breakfast must have different rules. Ron was already working his way through a mound of scrambled eggs and bacon that rivalled the one in front of Hagrid. Luna was nibbling a stalk of asparagus and talking to Professor Vector. From the slightly alarmed look on the latter's face, Hermione guessed Luna was expounding on the habits of Fibblideens.

And down the other end of the table, talking animatedly with Minerva McGonagall —

"Harry! Ginny!"

Harry and Ginny stood up as Hermione reached them, and she hugged them both fiercely. "I'm so glad you're here."

"You'll have plenty of time to get caught up with both of them," Minerva said as they took their seats. "Miss Weasley will be spending more time here than originally planned, to consult Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione turned to Ginny, frowning. "You're not ill, are you?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, but I wrenched my shoulder in a practice last month and it's been slow to come right. The coach agreed that it was better to take some time off now to get it completely better than to risk it going really wrong further into the season." She winked at Hermione.

"And I can't wait to get cracking on that curse," Harry said cheerfully. "I suppose you've tried all the usual things? Checking the employment contract, the classroom, the quarters?"

"Yes, Mr Potter, you can be sure we've tried all the 'usual things'." The Headmistress's voice was tart. "And a few unusual things, as well."

Harry just smiled at her, unruffled. "I'll need you to talk me through them, then, before I start. This afternoon?"

"Three o'clock," Minerva said, and Harry nodded.

He turned back to the other three. "So where have they got you kipping, Hermione? Down in the dungeons like Professor Snape?"

She shook her head. "No." Because for one thing, those quarters are currently inhabited by the previous holder of my position. "Ravenclaw Tower. Third floor, the room with the painting of a dove and, usually, a couple of mermaids on the door."

"I'm over in Gryffindor," Ginny said. "Two paintings left from the Fat Lady, actually."

"And Ron and I will bunk in the D.A.D.A professor's quarters," Harry said. "With two of us, it'll be harder for the curse to take us by surprise." He didn't look at all as if the prospect alarmed him.

"I was just saying to Harry and Ginny last night how it would be great for us all to get together and have good old chat," Ron said with meaning.

Hermione nodded. So Harry knows. At least, Harry knows as much as Ron knows.

If not as much as I know.

Although if he brought the Marauder's Map, one glance in the right direction will fill him right in.

"I'd like to catch up with Hagrid," she said. "I've got something I have to do after breakfast, and then we could all walk down to see him?" The open hillside would make it impossible for anyone to sneak up on them, and Muffliato would make sure no-one could use a spell to eavesdrop from far away.

"Sounds like a plan," Harry said. "Do you know what he's keeping as a pet this year?"

"So long as it isn't another giant spider," Ron said with a shudder.

"It's bound to be a giant something," Harry pointed out. "Five knuts it either spits venom or breathes fire."

"I'll take that," Ginny said. "I'm betting it has either too many heads or too many legs."

"Whatever it is, I'm betting it's bound to be deeply unpleasant," Hermione said.

"No fair, Hermione, you can't bet on a sure thing!" Ginny said, and they all laughed. "So what do you have to do after breakfast?"

Hermione thought quickly. "I need to look over the ingredients in the storeroom straight away and make sure none of them have expired. If I leave it until tomorrow it might be too late to replace anything that needs it before my first lessons."

"Have you thought about how you'll start?" Harry asked. "I mean, you could always use Professor Snape's speech for the first years. I bet he used it every year."

"I could," Hermione said, pouring herself some tea. "But I don't think I want to emulate Professor Snape in the classroom. I'm going to ask Neville for a bit of advice. Professor Sprout is actually training him in teaching."

"I might do the same," Harry said. "I mean, I thought I'd just use what worked in our old D.A. days for fourth years and above, but I've been a bit worried about the first years. How do you sort of ease an eleven-year-old into contemplating the Unforgivables? They're not even really old enough for Boggarts."

"Shield spells," Ginny suggested. "I mean, they can't hurt each other with them even if they try, and it's the sort of thing that's always useful eventually, even with the most uneventful life."

Hermione gulped the last of her tea and picked up a piece of toast. "I'd better get going if I'm going to get through the storeroom by … say ten? Meet you at the doors?"

The others agreed, and she left them to a further round of betting on the exact nature of whatever hideously dangerous pet Hagrid would have adopted this year.

Professor Snape was not in the office — in my office, Hermione reminded herself — and nor was he in the classroom, or the storeroom. Since he was unlikely to be wandering around the school where he might be seen, that meant he must be in his rooms.

For a few moments, she considered going and knocking on his door. But if he'd wanted me to do that, he would have said so.

He'll find me when he wants to.

But still … he doesn't know Harry has the Marauder's Map. She could guess what Harry would do the second he saw Snape's name in the Professor's private rooms. Charge right down there and hammer on the door. That will end well.

I'll give Professor Snape half-an-hour to show himself, and then I'll go and knock.

In fact, she'd only been checking the stores of potion ingredients for fifteen minutes when she heard, behind her, "Professor Granger."

Hermione carefully re-corked the vial of infusion of cowbane and put it back on the shelf before she turned. "Professor Snape. Do you worry about anyone seeing you in the corridors?"

He had eschewed his head-to-toe black today, or more likely simply left off the tightly buttoned coat, wearing his teaching robes over a white shirt and black trousers. "No."

After a moment, Hermione realised that further explanation wasn't going to be forthcoming. I suppose he uses an invisibility spell if someone is coming, and he thinks it's too obvious for me to need to ask. "Before we get to the lesson plans, there's something you need to know," she said into the uncomfortable silence. "You see, Harry's still got his map …"

She rushed through the explanation, trying not to think about the fact that she now knew far more about how the four boys who'd created the map had treated Snape than he'd be at all comfortable with, even if she hadn't witnessed it the way Harry had.

Snape's expression grew more and more sour as he listened, and when she'd finished, he scowled. "I thought the map was Lupin's," he said, and if the words were innocuous, his tone was not. It was venomous.

"Yes, well, the thing is," Hermione rushed on, "the minute Harry looks at that map he's going to be able to see 'Severus Snape' and he'll know."

"So I am to be confined to quarters?" Snape sneered.

Hermione shook her head. "The map will show you there, too. Just about everywhere shows on the map, except some of the special rooms."

"It may show me, but I assure you, it won't gain Potter entrance."

"Oh, that'll work!" Hermione snapped. "What, you don't answer your door and Harry will write it off as a glitch in the map? Because that's one thing everybody knows about Harry Potter, it's that he isn't interested in solving mysteries and he gives up easily!"

He regarded her a moment, eyes narrowed, and then the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "That's two things. But I concede your point. Which are the rooms that don't show up on this map?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm not sure I should tell you."

The hint of a smile vanished. "So much for Gryffindor promises," he said coldly.

Hermione folded her arms. "You know I'm not the only old student teaching here this year? Ron and Harry are teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Neville Longbottom is working with Professor Sprout. Luna is helping Hagrid, and Ginny Weasley is coaching Quidditch. It's a bit much to be a coincidence."

Snape shrugged slightly. "Minerva grows nostalgic."

"Minerva McGonagall is about as nostalgic as my left boot. She didn't expect you to let me know you were here, you know, she was surprised by that. She expected me to have to work it out, don't you think? With the help of the people who've had so much practice solving mysteries in this very school?"

"You mean," Snape said with distaste, "she's meddling."

"You made her promise, like I promised, not to tell anyone. But she as good as told me yesterday that you're ill. Or in some sort of trouble. That you need help —"

He leaned forward slightly, and Hermione had to fight the urge to step back. "I do not need," he hissed, low and menacing, "your help, Granger. Except to hide myself from Potter's infernal map, and you have already refused that assistance."

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," Hermione said. "And I won't. But that doesn't mean I have to get in the way of people figuring it out. I don't think I should." She studied him. Perhaps his sallow pallor was only the result of living entirely indoors, but she didn't think so, not with the bruised shadows beneath his eyes. "You might not need my help, Professor, but I think you need help from someone, and not to hide."

She hadn't been able to help him, five years early. None of us could. Not when he lay dying, not for any of his long, dangerous — and surely lonely — years as Dumbledore's finest spy.

Please let us help you now.

"I assure you I am entirely capable of managing my own affairs without the assistance of a gaggle of former students," Snape said coldly, and turned to leave.

Hermione bit her lip. He did ask for my help with something. "The Room of Requirement," she said. "The Marauder's Map doesn't show anyone who is inside the Room of Requirement. Harry knows that, though. Once he works out you're in there … "

Snape glanced over his shoulder. "I think I can avoid being trapped by Harry Potter," he sneered.

Hermione smiled. "So did Voldemort," she pointed out, and was surprised when, just for an instant, Snape smiled back at her.

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Note: I've completely made up the historical stuff. Someone I can't reply to directly asked what the title had to do with the story — well, the story originally started somewhat after where it ended up starting, with only a quick introduction, so you would have met Maisie Wilkins early on. However, the bits in-between kept growing, and so here we are at chapter 14 and the students haven't even arrived for the new school year! However, Maisie Wilkins and her search for the Quidditch Key do exist, and will be making their appearance in due course.

Also, shameless begging for feedback! It's a fanfic writer's only reward.