Chapter 4: Part of the Plan
"I beg your pardon?" He demanded and Hermione suspected it might have been the most polite sounding thing Snape had ever said to her.
"I asked you to join me in my bedroom," Hermione clarified, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth when she noticed his uncomfortable and entirely concerned expression at such a notion.
"Why would I do that?" he asked, his lip curling and Hermione could tell he was taking offense to the idea of her possibly toying with him in some way.
"Part of my mission requires that I amend my virginal status, sir," Hermione said, having entirely too much fun watching the way he choked on the last sip he'd taken of his tea, "And we only have so long to accomplish that task before my parents return from their meeting."
"If you think for even a second….." He began but Hermione cut him off.
"Professor Dumbledore did instruct you to follow all of my directives without question, sir," she told him, trying very hard to hide her smirk of amusement.
"I sincerely hope, for your sake, that you are joking Miss Granger," Snape warned her.
"Not at all Professor. You wouldn't want me to die a virgin, would you?"
"That is none of my business," he growled, looking somewhat ill at the prospect.
"Of course it's your business, after all, my mission demands that I simply cannot enter into it whilst remaining a virgin, and due to the nature of my assignment, it can't be just anyone who deflowers me."
"This is not an amusing joke Miss Granger," Snape told her, rising to his feet and looking like he'd very much like to hex her, "You have been trying my patience all evening, but this is going too far."
"I'm sorry if this upsets you sir, but I can assure you this is no joke."
"You expect me to believe that Professor Dumbledore asked you to undertake some kind of secret mission that calls for a sexual relationship between you and I?"
"It's not as though I'm a child," Hermione told him, having to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at his reaction, "I am of age after all, and as such I am able to consent and to undertake assignments for the Order that will likely change absolutely everything - if I am successful. Now, are you going to continue to look affronted and act like a blushing teenager about this or are you going to join me in my bedroom? We don't have all night, you know?"
Snape curled his lip at her in the manner Hermione recognised as the expression worn by cranky animals and she turned away from him, pretending to stomp as she exited the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She had to stop looking at him or she was going to laugh and ruin the joke. It was entirely too much fun to torment him knowing that there was nothing he could do to punish her.
When she reached her familiar childhood bedroom, Hermione sighed softly. Everything was just as she'd left it and immediately Hermione made her way to her closet, the purple bag Dumbledore had given her - the one with the Undetectable Extension harm on it - swinging from her wrist while she dug around for all her old Weasley jumpers and some other clothes she still had from the time when she was eleven or younger. After all, she would be taking a De-Aging Potion so it stood to reason that much of the clothing she had outgrown would soon fit her again.
"What are you doing?" that cool voice asked her and Hermione smirked before biting her lip and turning to look over her shoulder to see that Snape had joined her. He was loitering in her bedroom doorway looking entirely uncomfortable but scowling enough to still appear fierce and formidable.
"I was beginning to suspect you'd left," Hermione said, grinning just a little.
Snape's response was to leer at her, but it was clear to her that he was entirely too uncomfortable with the idea of what he'd been told he had to do to think of anything to say.
"Well," Hermione began, before pursing her lips, "Are you just going to loiter in my doorway, or are you going to come in?"
Scowling, his hand twitching towards the pocket where he kept his wand, Snape took a measured step into the room.
"This is utterly ridiculous," she heard him mutter as he took another step, glaring around her room now with distaste.
"It is, isn't it?" Hermione agreed, "Erm... if you wouldn't mind, I need you to sit over at my desk for a few minutes."
"Why?"
"Well because I'm still gathering my supplies for my assignment."
"You mean to tell me you want to prolong this awkwardness?" he demanded.
"Would you prefer to pre-awkwardness or the post-awkwardness in this particular situation?" Hermione retorted, "After all, my parents still aren't going to be home for a few hours, and I can't leave until after they've returned so..."
Snape's scowl deepened as he swiftly crossed the room and sat himself down in her desk chair.
Hermione grinned before going to her bookshelf and retrieving one of her books. She enjoyed the way he watched her like a hawk as she moved towards him slowly, almost hesitantly.
"Is this your approximation at keeping me entertained while you pack?" he sneered when he noticed it was a potions textbook. In spite of his cranky expression, Hermione could see the glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes at the prospect.
"Actually no. It is my understanding that you like to tamper with potion recipes in ways that make them more effective," Hermione told him, catching his surprise, "So I was hoping you would be able to make a copy of your version on how to make Wolfsbane Potion. I have some parchment here, since I can't take the whole book with me."
"You want me to write a potions recipe?" He asked, looking dubious.
"Feeling more like the student being given homework than the teacher, sir?" Hermione grinned at him.
He didn't deign to give her a response and chose instead to ask her a question.
"What could you possibly want with a revised version of the Wolfsbane potion?"
"I have need of it for my assignment," Hermione replied, "Besides, I would think this particular request would be far more agreeable to you than the request I made in the kitchen."
"You are entirely too contrary for your own good, Miss Granger," he informed her.
"It's been said before," Hermione grinned at him.
"What kind of assignment would call for Wolfsbane potion?" he demanded, smirking a little now.
"The kind that will bring me into contact with a werewolf," Hermione replied.
"Do you take pleasure in stating the obvious?"
"Sometimes, though usually I prefer to leave that to Harry or Ron. It encourages them to feel like they're contributing to a logical discussion without impinging on the delicate male ego."
Hermione didn't know if she or Snape was more surprised when he snorted in amusement.
"Very well then," Snape said, picking up one of Hermione's pen and tugging the piece of note-paper she'd torn from a notebook closer, "But in return for this potion recipe, you are going to explain to me why it is that you're currently packing clothing that looks like they belong to a child rather than an adult."
"I have a need for them," Hermione replied smoothly.
"What is so secretive about this assignment?" he demanded, curiosity clearly getting the better of him.
"I would think you, of all people, would be used to the idea of having secretive assignments that you cannot share details about."
"Perhaps, but when they call for me to deflower someone I find myself thinking I ought to be privy to the information."
"But that would result in your attempting to interfere with the assignment, which would be entirely detrimental to saving the wizarding world from war," Hermione told him, gathering together several pictures of herself and her parents and her friends and slipping them all into a small photo-album to take with her. It was ill-advised, but Hermione didn't want to go into the past without some memento of her life now.
"Why would I interfere with something like that? What could you possibly..." he trailed off and Hermione jumped when he was suddenly right behind her, gripping her biceps and spinning her to face him.
"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded, squirming in his tight hold.
"You let that old fool talk you into being transported back in time?" he snarled into her face and Hermione found herself surprised by his height when he stood close enough that his body was almost pressed against the length of hers. Not to mention shocked that he had managed to figure it out on his own.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied evasively.
"Don't. Lie. To Me." he growled, enunciating each word slowly with a dangerous hiss, "I knew he'd been fantasising about such nonsense, but to have talked a student into... Have you lost your mind? You are going to die, Miss Granger."
"No I'm not, and Dumbledore didn't talk me into anything. When I was summoned to his office, he merely suggested that as a last resort, should we lose the second War that he would like to have a plan in place to alter things. It was me who talked him into not waiting until then."
"What could you possibly intend to achieve going back in time?" he demanded "More importantly, why would such a fool's errand require that you have knowledge about me... Oh no!"
His grip grew tighter on her arms, cutting off her circulation as he scowled down at her.
"You're not going back in time to meddle into my life Miss Granger."
"Whoever said I was?" Hermione asked innocently.
"You did."
"I did no such thing!"
"You lie!" he snarled, squeezing her arms even tighter.
"You're hurting me," Hermione hissed back, glaring up into his face, "So I recommend that you let me go right now."
Hermione gasped when he shoved her back hard enough that she fell against her bed, her arms aching from his tight grip and her heart hammering in her chest.
"You will not be going!" he informed her.
"How do you propose to stop me?" Hermione asked, glaring at him from her bed.
"By any means necessary."
"What are you so afraid of?" she snapped, "What is it that you're so terrified of that you're flying off the handle like this? Merlin, have you always had a temper like this?"
"Yes!" He hissed at her, looking very much like he wanted to murder her.
"Well you better learn to get a hold of it because there is nothing you can say or do that is going to change what's going to happen."
"How far is he sending you back?" Snape demanded.
"Back to your first year at Hogwarts," Hermione informed him, "Where I will be given a De-Aging Potion so that I'll blend right in with the first year students."
"You have lost you mind," he accused, "What could you possibly hope to achieve? IF you survive the attempt."
"It seems there are several 'at risk' students that I'll be expected to influence to keep them out of the clutches of Voldemort," Hermione retorted, noticing the way he flinched.
"He means to keep me from joining the Dark Lord and so keep the Prophecy from being passed on," Snape growled.
"Among other things."
"And just how do you propose to do that?" He demanded of her, his gaze travelling over her and his lip curling at the idea.
"By befriending you and the others on Dumbledore's list and making sure you don't all fall prey to a ravenous lunatic with a god-complex."
"You think you're going to be able to convince me to be your friend?" he scoffed.
"Of course, because I know all about you and so will be able to manipulate the circumstances to ensure that you will be my friend."
"Are you really so desperate for friendship?" he snapped at her.
"No, but you are," Hermione retorted.
"You are out of line Miss Granger!" he warned her, advancing menacingly.
"No, you are! I'm going to be able to re-write history and make sure that everything awful that's happened won't happen again. James and Lily won't put their faith in a traitor and end up dead. Sirius won't hunt Pettigrew down and wind up in Azkaban for crimes he didn't commit. Remus won't be left all alone to suffer through life with his affliction. You and several others won't end up Voldemort's lackeys and cause all of the issues we are currently facing. Dumbledore will have almost thirty years of a head-start on hunting down horcruxes and destroying them. They will be forewarned of the families and people that are targeted by Voldemort, ensuring that they can be protected. Everything will be better."
"And you're willing to risk your life to achieve that?" he demanded, an unpleasant expression twisting his features.
"Yes!" Hermione replied.
"And if they device doesn't work? If you wind up thirty years in the past with an addled mind, then what?"
"Then nothing," Hermione snapped, "Because it's not going to happen."
"Albus Dumbledore isn't infallible, Miss Granger," he warned her, seeming to be slowly getting a hold of his temper.
"No, but he's close enough. I trust him and I believe it's worth the risk."
"Just how do you plan to befriend the twelve year old version of me Miss Granger?" he asked, and Hermione could tell that was part of what worried him. Hermione smiled.
"I'll know to look past that nasty attitude and sharp tongue to see the grumpy little boy hiding behind that facade."
"In other words you're going to be your usual, persistent, annoying self," He replied dryly.
"Think it will work?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"No."
"What kind of attitude is that?" Hermione demanded.
"The kind designed to keep you from meddling with time and with my life."
"Because your life has been such a happy affair and you wouldn't change anything?" Hermione said sarcastically.
"What does this plan have to do with you seducing me?" he asked, suddenly switching topics even though he glared at her for the comment.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"I see no call in this assignment of yours that requires you change your virginal status," he said.
"You want me to risk death or addlement without carnal knowledge?" Hermione asked, grinning now.
He stared at her, one eyebrow quirked in irritation or perhaps confusion.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"Why did you try to seduce me Miss Granger?"
"I never tried to seduce you," Hermione told him, "That would've involved invading your personal space and touching you inappropriately while speaking in a husky voice."
"And you expect me to believe you don't have carnal knowledge," he clicked his tongue condescendingly.
"I don't," Hermione snapped, blushing, "I was pointing out that if I had tried to seduce you, I'd have done that sort of thing, rather than simply tormenting you by informing you it was required for the success of my mission."
"Which you did because...?" Snape said, clearly waiting for an explanation.
Hermione shrugged "It's easier to tolerate your rudeness and your abrasive personality if I throw you off kilter and unsettle you."
He looked thunderstruck.
"Did you finish that recipe?" Hermione asked nonchalantly, getting up and walking around him since he was still towering over her, looking menacing.
She smiled when she saw that he had and she recognised the cramped, spiky handwriting she'd been seeing in Harry's Potions textbook that he'd been using to beat her in class.
"Can I ask you something?" Hermione asked as she picked up the piece of paper, folding it and slipping it inside her bag.
"It's been my experience that whether I say yes or no, you'll ask regardless."
"Why did you once refer to yourself as the Half-Blood Prince?"
"Is there anything you don't know?" he demanded, looking entirely perplexed and shocked at her mentioning of that particular title.
"Of course there is, else I wouldn't be asking a question."
"It was a ridiculous title I fashioned for myself because as I've mentioned, I'm a half-blood due to the fact that my father was a muggle; and my mother's maiden name was Eileen Prince. Since I abhorred my father - wretched man that he was - I chose to identify myself via my magical heritage and blood-status."
"Who else knew about the title?"
"No one," he replied, "Which begs the question of how it is that you know about it?"
"It's written in your old potions book from the storage cupboard in the dungeons," Hermione told him, "The one filled with tampered potion recipes and an assortment of spells that I'm beginning to suspect you invented yourself."
"And you have possession of my property because...?"
"I don't have it," Hermione said, "Harry does. He and Ron found it when they enrolled into Potions late after learning you weren't teaching the course this year."
"That rotten little swine! I knew there was no possible way he suddenly became perfect at potions when he's been nothing but a bumbling fool in the past."
"Must you always be so abrasive?" Hermione asked him.
"Must you always be so insufferable?" he retorted.
"I get the feeling this mission is going to try my patience," Hermione informed him as she did a final sweep of her room for anything else she could think of that she might want to take with her that wasn't already at Hogwarts.
"I suspect you have an overly optimistic view of the life you are going to immerse yourself in," he told her, watching her as she moved around the room, picking things up and pondering their usefulness.
"Are you going to help me or are you going to continue to be difficult?" Hermione asked him, glancing over and holding his gaze.
"Why would I help you meddle with my life?" he asked coldly.
"So that I don't make it worse," Hermione replied, "I have an idea of how to fix things, but what if I make them ten times worse?"
"Then don't do it, foolish girl!" Snape told her, rolling his eyes.
"That's not an option," Hermione said, "So I'm going to ask you again. When I go back, do you think you'll be my friend?"
"I don't know," Snape replied, "What are you intending to change to make yourself less insufferable?"
"Wasn't it you who said that friends shouldn't expect each other to change who they are?"
"I get the feeling you're going to be even more insufferable as a friend than you are as a student."
"Because I ask too many questions?"
"No, because you might actually challenge me intellectually. It's bound to get on my nerves and will either make me hate you, or befriend you."
"Since I'll still retain the mental capability of a seventeen year old and you'll only be twelve, I think I'll have the upper hand," Hermione smirked at him.
"I wouldn't count on it," Snape told her.
"You were a know-it-all too, weren't you?" Hermione grinned.
"Perhaps. Though I'm sure I was less insufferable."
"How so?"
"I kept to myself and didn't have any friends to boost my ego to enormous proportions just because I was smarter than them. Instead I had a gang of idiots more than willing to take the mickey out of me and attack me whenever the chance arose."
"That'll change," Hermione said, deciding she had grabbed everything she needed from her room and ignoring the fact that Snape curled his lip nastily when she picked up the stuffed bunny she had as a little girl that she used to cuddle in bed every night.
"I still say this is a ridiculous plan and probably a suicide mission," he told her, following her as she walked out of her room and back down to the kitchen.
"You're entitled to your opinion," Hermione told him as she set about making another cup of tea, making him a second cup without bothering to ask him if he wanted another, "We still have more than an hour to kill before my parents get back."
"Is this you trying to seduce me again?" he asked and if Hermione didn't know better she'd almost think he was... joking with her.
"Does it look like I'm rubbing up against you?" She asked, grinning.
"I suspect your approach would be more subtle," he retorted, taking the tea and sitting at the kitchen table in her parent's house. Hermione opened her mouth to reply but before she could he added, "Else you would be dating Mr Weasley by now, though he is clearly too thick to have noticed your interest in him."
"And here I thought you might be giving me a compliment," Hermione grumbled, sitting down at the table across from him.
"I very rarely give out compliments Miss Granger. So few people deserve them and you've not earned one."
"Why do I get the feeling that behind that nastiness you actually have a sense of humour?" Hermione asked him, eyeing him over the rim of her tea-cup.
"I don't hide it. I simply prefer to find humour at the expense of others rather than low level wit."
"In other words you like being mean," Hermione laughed. She was shocked when the Professor shrugged, smirking sinisterly. "Doesn't that seem a little beneath you, given your history of being the butt of other people's jokes and pranks?"
"It's character-building to be picked on," he informed her.
"Yeah, because you've got so much character going for you."
He scowled at her.
"See?" Hermione continued when he looked annoyed, "You don't like it when people say things like that to you and yet you openly and viciously mock others for their flaws."
"You are too logical," he muttered, before taking a big gulp of his tea and looking away from her.
"Perhaps I am, but maybe if you didn't strike out at everyone else all the time, unprovoked most of the time, you would have a better chance of making friends. You only do it to pre-empt anyone striking out at you."
"Why are you bothering to tell me this when in a few short hours you're going to go back and meddle with time and with me, meaning I won't recall this conversation."
"In case it fails. And because I care."
"Now you're going to try and tell me you care about me being bitter and vicious?" He demanded, looking annoyed all over again.
"I do actually care. So you can stop looking like I've lied to you and suck it up. Besides, I figure this is good practice for learning to tolerate your personality."
"I bet you get frustrated and give up on trying to be my friend within the first year," he told her, smirking over the top of his cup at her before holding it out to her and showing her it was empty.
"Is this your way of asking for a refill?" Hermione asked drolly, "And you can't make a bet with me about it because I'll never get to collect my winnings."
"Winnings?" He scoffed, "Your winnings can be that you get to spend your final hours on this time-line enjoying the pleasure of my company."
Hermione snorted as she made the tea.
"Arrogance does not suit you, Professor. Stick to being nasty."
"I was being nasty," he replied and Hermione saw a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes when she laughed.
"Do you want something to eat?" She asked, "I dragged you away from your dinner."
"You expect me to believe you can cook?" He asked, "You're forgetting I've seen you brew a potion. I don't trust you in a kitchen."
"I can cook," Hermione protested, "Better than you, I'd wager."
"Doubtful, Miss Granger," he retorted.
"Just because you can brew a potion doesn't make you a master chef," Hermione told him.
"No, but being a perpetual bachelor with no friends certainly does."
Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him, feeling her amusement deflate a little at his comment.
"Does that mean I shouldn't go back in time and make friends with you? I wouldn't want to mess with your cooking skills."
"Very funny," he said dryly, shooting her a bored look.
"Do you want something or not? I can actually cook."
"I'm fine," he told her when Hermione brought him his cup of tea. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Well I was too busy talking and saying goodbye to my friends to eat, so I'm having something."
"What are you having?" he asked and Hermione smirked, realizing he was hungry, he was just being polite.
"It depends what my parents have in the fridge and the pantry," Hermione shrugged, "What do you feel like eating?"
"I told you I'm fine."
"And then very pointedly asked me what I was going to cook. Meaning you're hungry, you're just hiding a polite streak I doubted you were capable of because you don't want to seem like you have needs."
"That perceptiveness is going to get you in trouble you know," he told her, clearly having given up on demanding that she speak to him more respectfully.
"With you?" Hermione asked, digging around in the fridge and unearthing some bacon, prosciutto, pepperoni, feta cheese and some shallots. In the pantry she found some canned tomatoes, onions, a jar of tomato and herb pasta sauce and some dry pasta.
"Yes, with me," Snape answered, watching her assemble all the ingredients on the bench before hunting for a saucepan to boil the pasta and a frying pan for the rest of the ingredients.
"Why? Because you're likely to try and lie to me and put on a facade a lot and I'm going to see through it?"
"Yes. It's getting on my nerves now and I had less control over my tongue as a teenager."
"I'm used to being insulted by you, I'm sure it will be like water off a duck's back."
"For you, but it will drive me nuts."
"You don't like it when you try to push me away and it doesn't work," Hermione accused him, sticking a metal teaspoon in her mouth before she set about chopping the onions.
"I have no tolerance for anything that doesn't work," he corrected, "And what are you doing with that ridiculous spoon in your mouth?"
"It keeps me from tearing up when I chop the onions," Hermione said around the spoon, grinning at him.
"Are you a witch or not?" he demanded, clearly appalled at the idea of resorting to using a muggle trick when she could simply use a suppression charm on the onion spores.
"Of course I am, but suppressing the spores means I don't get that onion smell on my hands, and I like having the onion smell on my hands."
"Insufferable and odd," Hermione heard him mutter.
"Don't tell me there aren't potion or cooking ingredients that you don't like spilling on yourself simply so you can enjoy them later."
"No wonder you never get full marks on your potions. You've been contaminating them with the juices and spores of other ingredients."
"Sometimes I prefer not getting full marks. It makes me try harder," Hermione told him, "Are you going to tell me anything else about yourself that it might be important for me to know?"
"Why would I do that? You're already going to have me at a disadvantage upon meeting me. If I tell you anything else the twelve year old version of me will have no chance at escaping your friendship."
"That's kind of the point," Hermione told him, slicing up bacon, prosciutto, shallots and pepperoni into small chunks, "The idea is that I go back and befriend you and keep you from making all the mistakes that landed you here."
"Any more information and the twelve year old me will be suspicious of you, then you'll bollocks everything up and make things even worse," He told her, "What are you going to do when I find out you're a time-travelling meddlesome swot and lose my temper with you about it?"
"Lie," Hermione said simply, "Or, alternatively, not let you find out."
"I see, a friendship built on lies. Doesn't that sound appealing?" he practically grumbled and Hermione turned to look at him, tossing the cooking ingredients in her frying pan.
"You don't even like me, what are you grumbling about?"
"You're going to trick me into it and it will all be a lie."
"Who said it would be a lie?" Hermione demanded.
"You did. You're only purpose for befriending me is to manipulate me and my life-path."
"Not my only purpose," Hermione argued with him, checking the pasta as it boiled, "I would also be befriending you to save you from years of torment at the hands of James Potter and Sirius Black, not to mention anyone else you manage to irritate with your too-smart-for-your-own-good mouth and that attitude."
"That is really no way to speak to your teacher, Miss Granger," he admonished, though he looked mildly amused behind that scowl.
"You're not my teacher, anymore. You're my friend now," Hermione told him with a smile.
"No I'm not."
"You are. Which is another reason you'd never find out I was manipulating you, because you're my friend."
"I don't have any friends Miss Granger. I have associates and I have enemies and that is it."
"Would any of them cook you dinner?" Hermione challenged as she combined all the ingredients in her frying pan to mix the sauce through before straining the pasta.
"No," he admitted, glaring.
"Then I'm your friend," Hermione said simply.
"You don't even like me," he argued scowling moodily now.
"Says who?"
"You did," he told her.
"I never said I didn't like you. I said I wasn't a fan of the way you belittle and degrade everyone, including all of my friends and me. I also said that I respected you anyway, because you're scary when you scowl like that," she pointed at his fierce expression, "But I never said I didn't like you. I actually find you mildly amusing and interesting to talk to."
Snape stayed silent after that, glaring moodily into his tea cup, making Hermione suspect it was empty again.
Reaching over, Hermione flicked the kettle on again, watching Snape out the corner of her eye. He clearly didn't want to be anywhere near her anymore, and didn't like the idea of her considering him to be amusing or interesting.
"You'll have to be careful," he said finally, when Hermione brought over a bowl of pasta and sat it in front of him along with some cutlery, prying the tea-cup from his grip so she could refill it.
"I'm always careful," Hermione told him.
"I was prone to slipping people Veritaserum so I could embarrass them and find out their secrets. It's more than likely that I'll do it to you."
"I'm more than prepared for your lack of trust," Hermione told him, "Besides, I don't have anything to hide."
"You'll have a lot of things to hide. All the secrets you know from this time."
"But you won't know to ask me about them."
Hermione put the fresh cup of tea in front of him before she joined him at the kitchen table, digging into her pasta hungrily.
"You wanted the potion recipe for Lupin, didn't you?" he asked suddenly changing the subject and making Hermione look up at him. He was taking his time eating the food she'd cooked him and Hermione found herself wondering if he didn't like it or if he was savouring it.
"Yes, I did," she confirmed, "His condition is hard on him and must be unbearable while he's at school. At least this way when he transforms he won't lose his mind. "
"If that falls into the wrong hands you're going to discredit the original inventor."
"I'm not an idiot, you know?" Hermione said, frowning impatiently, "I'm not just going to go shouting about it. I'm going to give it to Professor Dumbledore, who will be aware of my time-travelling status, and have him decide who should make the potion for Remus and give it to him. I'm not going to go about telling people I'm from the future there to save them all or something equally ridiculous. If I have my way, Professor Dumbledore will be the only one who evens knows I'm from this time."
"Why did you make this for me?" he asked, indicating to his food, changing the subject again.
"Because you were hungry," Hermione shrugged, "I was hungry too. It's not like it was hard."
"It's nice," he murmured a while later without looking at her and Hermione realised suddenly that he probably wasn't used to having anyone do anything nice for him, even if it was just cooking him dinner.
"I'm glad you like it," Hermione replied, "Even if I'm insufferable and odd."
When he smirked at her, Hermione felt a little flush of happiness inside her chest to know that she'd succeeded in making that perpetual scowl and sneer disappear.