Huge thanks to CMDRHill (JaneGlen) on AO3 for making this chapter 1000% more readable. As a reminder, this fic is also available on AO3 in case you prefer that site.
September 1999
Despite Hermione's scepticism, she did finally reach the end of her first week, and in weary celebration she decided to visit Harry at Grimmauld Place. Ron had also stopped by, and the three of them sat around the kitchen table with their respective work. She was grading papers, Harry was going over his notes for Auror training, and Ron was going over the expense reports for the past month.
"Do you not have Auror notes to go over too, Ron?" Hermione asked.
Distractedly, he murmured, "I already looked over them."
"Really?" Hermione asked.
"Well, you don't have to sound so shocked," Ron said, looking hurt. "Tell her, Harry."
"He's been like a madman. As soon as he gets a chance, he reads whatever we're told to read," Harry confirmed.
"Well, it's not like I've got much of a choice, do I?" Ron said. "Between Auror training and helping George with the shop, I've got no time to spare."
"How is George?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly guilty for not considering that Ron and Harry had been just as busy as she was.
"He's about the same, I guess. He thought I was trying to prank him, though, when I said that Snape was back at Hogwarts."
"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected automatically.
"So does that mean we have to call you Professor Granger?" Harry asked, grinning. She shot him a look that would have done Minerva McGonagall proud, and he stopped smiling.
"War hero or not, I can't believe old McGonagall took him back at all. He's terrible," Ron said.
"Well, she did, and it's Professor McGonagall, Ronald. I told you that no one wants to teach at Hogwarts. Its professors have gained quite a reputation over the past few years, and no one is anxious to become a part of it." She went back to grading a paper and almost immediately started cursing under her breath.
"Hermione?" Ron asked worriedly. "You alright?"
"Pammy Brickus," she said between clenched teeth, "Is trying to kill me. She keeps mixing up spells on her papers, and if she does this in class, she's going to get someone killed." Hermione was barely halfway through the stack of fourth year papers, and already felt like she was losing her mind.
"Well maybe it would help if you didn't make your essay requirements quite so long," Ron pointed out timidly. "How long is that essay?"
"Don't start with me, Ronald," she said sharply. She went back to Brickus' paper.
Harry shot her a sympathetic glance. "I'm sorry."
"You should be. Do you realize how hard teachers work? How underpaid? And you goof off and-"
"Woah, hey, Hermione. He's not Patty Buttkiss," Ron soothingly placed his hand on her arm.
"Are you five?" She snapped, but even as she said it her anger was leaving her. Harry and Ron were laughing so hard they couldn't even talk. Begrudgingly, she gave them a smile.
"You know, ever since I've started teaching, all I can think about is how people I know would act in the classroom, and you two," she pointed at both of them, "are pure mischief. Trouble with a capital T."
They grinned sweetly at her. Ron fluttered his eyelashes, "Us? Surely not."
Harry swooned beside him, "We would never."
Rolling her eyes, she returned to her work.
She had hoped that by the time she got to her NEWT level students, the quality of the assignments would have improved. Most of the sixth and seventh years' first class had focused on application rather than theory, but after the disastrous second and third year classes, she had given the rest of her classes small writing assignments that had to be completed by the end of class that covered material they should have learned in previous years.
McGonagall had held the standard that students had to receive at least an Exceeds Expectations on their Transfiguration OWL in order to continue, and Hermione felt that was more than fair, so she had kept the same standard. Now as she looked over their papers, she began to wish she had pulled a Snape and required an Outstanding for entrance into her NEWT level classes.
By the time she returned to Hogwarts, frustrated and tired, it was already late evening. She stormed down to her rooms, setting everything down with a thump on the large wooden desk that had been provided to her.
Hermione knew she should just turn in early and finish grading tomorrow, if only for the students' sakes, but the overachiever in her wanted the satisfaction of grading everything in one day. Deciding that a small snack would help keep her awake while she worked, she headed down to the kitchens.
The house elves were more than accommodating, and Winky assured her that it was no trouble to make her a mug of hot chocolate. She sipped it quickly, not wanting to linger too long. She still made the house elves uncomfortable.
As she walked back to her rooms, she decided that she should visit the Weasleys the following weekend. She had not seen them in a few of weeks, which felt almost traitorous after all they had done for her. After a brief relationship with Ron that had sputtered out almost as soon as it began, she had felt uncomfortable going to the Burrow, which was silly as they had never made her feel anything but welcomed.
Hermione was so caught up in her thoughts that for a moment she was not aware that she was being followed. When the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, she whirled around, wand drawn before she registered what had happened.
Severus Snape looked down at her. Her wand, which was practically stabbing him in his ridiculously large nose, did not move.
"What," she whispered, not keen on drawing the attention of the portraits past midnight, "Are you doing?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he sneered, batting her wand away from his face.
"I'm not a student anymore. I have every right to be outside of my room at this hour," she said, unconsciously straightening to make herself taller.
Severus was not particularly tall himself, but he certainly towered over her, and he appeared unimpressed.
"I thought I had caught a student after hours. Apparently I caught a wayward Granger instead."
She flushed. "What days are you responsible for patrol?"
"What? Why?"
"What days?" She repeated.
He seemed to be reluctant to tell her. "Monday and Wednesday."
"I knew it!" She said, more to herself than him.
"Miss Granger," he started, also keeping his voice low, apparently no more eager to cause a scene than she, "What are you talking about?"
"Harry used to complain about how often you caught him after curfew. I said it was because you patrol every night regardless of whether or not someone else is scheduled to."
"Brilliant deduction," he said shortly.
"What satisfaction does terrorizing children bring you?"
"Granger, I don't think my satisfaction is any concern of yours."
"Hermione."
"What?"
"My name is Hermione. Everyone else on the staff calls me Hermione."
He closed his eyes, "Hermione," he repeated softly. She liked the way he said her name, pronouncing each syllable, including the "o" that most people seemed to drop. "Your ability to try my patience never ceases to amaze me."
"And your ability to belittle everyone around you so you can feel like a bigger person never ceases to amaze me."
His eyebrow raised. "Getting rather psychological, aren't we, Granger?"
"Hermione," she corrected absently. "I just want you to know that I have nothing against you-"
"Glad that won't keep me up at night anymore," he commented.
"But, I will not take the treatment that you doled out for years. We are equals. I respect you as I respect the other faculty, and I ask for that in return. That is only fair."
He laughed. "After everything, don't you get it? Life isn't fair, Granger."
"Hermione," She insisted. "And just because life isn't fair does not mean that we have to play along. Change comes from people realizing that things are not good as they are."
He stared at her. "You are genuinely like this aren't you? This isn't some act to drive everyone batty. You actually believe this."
"Of course I do! Everyone has to believe something."
Just then, the sound of smothered giggles came down the hallway. Both of their heads snapped up towards the sound.
"I'll handle this," He said.
"Of course," she replied. "Goodnight, Severus."
He only made a noncommittal, "Hmm" noise in response, but she recognized an admission when she saw one.
As she headed back towards her room, she heard a rather loud squawk followed by "Well, well, well. Three Gryffindors out of bed after hours. How typical."
Don't you dare take more than twenty points, she thought.
"Twenty points." His voice was fainter now that she was further down the corridor. "Apiece."
Bastard.
Hermione was not alone in having to adjust to the lifestyle of a Hogwarts instructor. Elias Biswas seemed to get along with most of the other professors, but his anxious demeanor had already made him a target of Filch's watchful eye. Unfortunately, this seemed to only exacerbate Elias' anxiety. Hermione had only spoken to the History professor a few times since the beginning of the school year and although he seemed no less nervous, the trait became more endearing than unsettling as she saw how well his students responded to him.
When she asked Filius what had happened to Binns, he had simply grimaced. "Don't ask," he advised her. Once, such a comment would only encourage her. Now, however, she decided to take the advice.
Lavender was also having to adjust to her new position. Hermione thought that the Old Lavender (as she thought of her) would have made an excellent teacher, simply because she was so excitable, and that kind of energy was contagious in a classroom. It was something she wished she had. Perhaps her students would be more interested in lessons then.
While the New Lavender carried the same dramatic flare, coldness had replaced the charisma that had drawn people to her as a teenager. She even went so far as to carry on Trelawney's tradition of eating alone in her rooms, appearing to prefer her solitude to the company of anyone that she might see in the Great Hall.
Her self inflicted isolation had Hermione worried. She had practically grown up with Lavender after all. They had shared rooms at Hogwarts for six years, and even though they had rarely seen eye to eye, it was hard to not know a person after so long. But did she really know Lavender at all? Pavarti was always much more similar to Lavender, and they always were talking about boys and fashion. Hermione never had much to contribute to those particular conversations and had thus stuck to her books.
And then of course there was the Lav-Lav/ Won-Won debacle that had occurred during their sixth year. Oh, how she had despised Lavender then, rubbing Hermione's face in the fact that she was dating Ron. Lavender would come back to the room giggling and would stay up late talking to Pavarti as she went into explicit detail every time she and Ron tried something new. It was utterly ridiculous now that Hermione looked back on it. They all acted exactly like what they were- children. Their breakup was not even fully satisfying, as Hermione had to abandon her room for the last part of the year. Lavender alternated between crying hysterically and glaring at Hermione for hours.
Nevertheless, Lavender had been in her life for many years. Hermione had no idea what Lavender had wanted to do when she was older or who her favorite designer was, but she knew how much time Lavender put into Divination, and how she slept: sprawled out with her left foot hanging over the bed. She knew that Lavender felt her emotions strongly and viscerally and was unapologetic about it. Hermione had always considered them to be opposites. She, the rational, logical one, Lavender, the pretty but empty-headed one.
It was difficult to see Lavender that way now. She seemed . . . flat, as though her emotions had just been stripped away, leaving behind a shell. Hermione began to wish for the simpering, obnoxious girl she had loathed growing up. This was so much worse.
Eating habits were not the only thing Lavender seemed to have acquired from Trelawney. Shortly after the beginning of the term, a first year walked into Hermione's class looking troubled. When she questioned the student, he had replied that Professor Brown had prophesied that he would be killed in a freak accident on his twelfth birthday.
"Which is next week," he said tearfully.
Hermione had assured the student that nothing of the sort would happen to them, privately wondering what Lavender had been thinking telling a student that Peeves would crush him with a table.
Indeed, most of the students seemed afraid of her. When Lavender walked down the hallways, they would part, hanging close to the sides. After her classes ended, students would scamper out, practically tripping over each other on the way. They never looked her in the face.
Perhaps worst of all were the things they said.
"I heard that she's a werewolf."
"No way! Have you seen her face? She's definitely just a deformed pixie." They both snickered.
"Thirty points from Slytherin, gentlemen," Hermione snapped as she passed by two third years. "For disrespecting a professor."
Severus wanted to use one of his old classrooms. Both Poppy and Minerva had firmly disagreed.
"This is healing magic, Severus," Poppy said. "It draws from light and fresh air. It can't be closed up like your potions."
"Potions that are made for your stockrooms," He reminded her sullenly.
He should have known better than trying to appeal to Minerva. "Poppy is right, Severus. And it would do you some good to get into the sunlight every now and again," Minerva said.
He glared in response.
Now, here he was in the sunny room 36R. Squinting in the morning sunlight, he looked around the classroom. There was plenty of space, several rows of lab tables, and a couple of cots that would be used in Poppy's portion of the class for demonstrations. Because of the intensiveness of this elective, it started the second week of class so that students would not be able to transfer in or out once it started.
Severus and Poppy were both present for this first class, though for the rest of the year, they would alternate teaching weekly.
The class was fairly small, as all NEWT courses tended to be, but the students who were there had strong, determined faces that told him that they were determined to make this worth their while. His year as headmaster marked one of the smallest recorded number of students at Hogwarts, as many parents had prevented their children from returning after Dumbledore's death. From the looks of it, these were mostly the students that had stayed at Hogwarts.
"Welcome to Healing Magic," Poppy said. "This is a NEWT level class that combines the knowledge you have been cultivating for years with the practical application of healthcare. Obviously, all of you know both me and Professor Snape. We will be working together to create a diverse but condensed experience that will give you a head start start whether you want to work in the home of a single individual or in the largest ward at St. Mungo's." She indicated for Severus to pick up.
"Today," he said, "We are going to discuss the mentality one must have going into medicine, particularly when administering any sort of first aid, where inaccuracy leads to death, inconsistency leads to death, and hesitancy," he paused, "hesitancy is one of the greatest sins you can commit."
The class stared at him, mesmerized. Perhaps this would not be as bad as he had feared. Remembering Minerva's words to him, Severus made an effort throughout the lesson to bite his tongue.
As the students were packing up after class, he overheard something that made him rather cross, so Severus headed towards the Great Hall for lunch.
"Five points from Gryffindor for obstructing the hallways, gentlemen."
"We were just walking!"
"Another five for disrespecting a professor!"
They scurried on, shooting him dark glances as they did so. By the time he reached the Great Hall, most of the professors were already seated at the dais, but there was one teacher in particular he was looking for.
"Granger," he snapped as he sat down beside her.
"Severus," she replied pointedly. "How did your healing class go?"
"Don't play games with me, Granger. I heard that you took thirty points from Slytherin this morning."
"I'm sure you have already more than evened the points since you found out," she said, cutting into her brisket.
"What, may I ask, did they do?"
"Gossiped about a professor. You've taken more points for less," she pointed out, popping a perfectly cut piece into her mouth.
"So the rumors have started. Tell me, are they gossiping about your love life? Or perhaps your role in the war?"
She gave a caustic glance, but said nothing further.
Just then, Remus plopped down on Hermione's side.
"Hermione! I feel like I've barely seen you since school started."
Hermione turned to talk to Remus without saying anything further to him. He pushed his food around his plate for a couple of minutes before getting up abruptly and leaving the hall.
My wife and I moved across the country like two days ago, and I've been channeling all of my stress into writing, so expect new chapters soon. What do you do when you're feeling stressed (asking for a friend)?
