January 2000
On the morning of January 9th, there were no fewer than 40 Zonko's self-inflating balloons hovering throughout his living room. The colorful assault continued across his floor where pieces of confetti were dropped like crumbs on the floor, leading from his bedroom and stopping just short of the corridor outside his rooms. For a moment, Severus stared with red, bleary eyes at the mess. When the balloons simultaneously exploded in a wild burst of more confetti, he turned around and went back into his bedroom, giving his door a firm slam behind him.
Of all the asinine things that the house elves had done over the years, this certainly was the pinnacle of whatever cliff they were trying to push him off. He skipped breakfast in order to avoid any proverbial "over the hill" jokes that his colleagues might find amusing. With wizards' longer lifespans, the idea of being past one's prime at forty ludicrous in any capacity, and he couldn't be bothered to hear it. Instead, he holed up in his room, waiting until the last possible moment to head to his first class of the day. Athene seemed as disgruntled at his leaving as himself, and meowed piteously when the door to his rooms shut.
Within an hour of leaving the relative comfort of his rooms, Severus was convinced of the universe's plot to turn him grey before his next birthday. He had to break up two separate fights just on the way to his classroom. The senseless and unending chaos continued into his second year potions class when Nash Shafiq, who generally seemed to be a quiet, dependable little fellow, dropped his wand into his cauldron in a moment of stupidity that was too great for Severus to even comprehend.
As Severus berated the boy, two Gryffindor students who sat nearby began to snicker. Severus took house points from both of them for disturbing the classroom and being generally obnoxious.
"If I find out that either of you had anything to do with Mr. Shafiq's wand mysteriously winding up in a vat of swelling solution, you'll both be scrubbing cauldrons for a month. Withoutyourwands," he added, leaning over them for a more menacing effect. They both gulped.
His other classes offered little, if any, reprieve from the second year class. He was still having to snatch copies of theEmerald Quillaway from students during class. Every since the first issue, the students had been buzzing over who would be named in the gossip section. Severus himself had not read an issue since the "complementary" copy that had landed between him and Granger at the breakfast table.
Skeeter had begun her new paper with a bang, spilling twenty years of secrets from the Daily Prophet. She had wasted no time in smearing the name of her employer-turned competitor. While Severus held Skeeter in similar esteem to that of a cockroach, he would be foolish to underestimate her ability to attract a crowd.
When Viveca Volkova stuffed her copy theEmerald Quilldown her shirt rather than hand it over, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sent her to Minerva. He supposed he could have magically summoned it from her, but with the return of Rita Skeeter, perhaps it was best not to risk it. The miffed fifth year student returned ten minutes later, reluctantly handing over the newspaper.
"Thank you, Miss Volkova. I'll add it to the pile," he said, slapping the paper down on his desk. "It'll save on firewood."
He ignored the smothered protests from the class and instead focused on resisting the urge to repeatedly ram his head into his desk. The rest of the day continued on in a similar fashion. He assigned what must have been a record breaking number of detentions. Filch would not have to lift a finger for a couple of weeks at least with all the students he would have to order around.
While certainly a headache-inducing day of teaching, it was not by any means the worst he had endured. The weighing insult offortywas proving to be more difficult to suffer. Birthday wishes from his colleagues were similarly unbearable, though not for the reason he had initially assumed. Feeling old was one thing. Feeling old while still being referred to as aboywas another, as Septima had done only moments earlier. His resulting scowl had been met with hearty chuckles from his coworkers, as though his displeasure was nothing more than an endearing quirk.
There was no surprise party,thank Merlin, but he had been persuaded (badgered) into spending enough time in the staffroom that evening for everyone to pass along birthday wishes and gifts. While collectively the staff's enthusiasm for him was lukewarm at best, their passion for celebrations knew no bounds. He half expected to find them all with party hats strapped to their heads. To add to the frivolity of the entire ordeal, hisinventivecolleagues, who had apparently run through their sensible ideas while shopping for Christmas presents, had resorted to rather imaginative alternatives to hosiery.
"I happen to know that you've got enough socks for the next year at least," Pomona said. "So I got you the next best thing-a fanged geranium." Severus gingerly lifted the plant onto the fireplace mantle, where he planned to conveniently forget it. Poppy shot him a sympathetic look. The trend continued with a natal chart from Lavender, a pinecone-shaped wood box from Filius, and a furry… thing from Hagrid that looked suspiciously similar to a raccoon tail.
"For yer cat to play wit'," he explained in his great booming voice. He clapped Severus on the back hard enough that Severus felt something in his ribs pop.
By the time Granger handed over a jar illuminated by a blue flame burning inside, any irritation that he might have felt had bled into bewilderment.
"Ah, yes," he said dryly. "I remember these. I seem to recall that the bottom of my robes spontaneously combusted into similar blue flame several years ago."
"It's not just a flame," Granger said, completely bypassing his less-than-casual recollection. "It also acts as a repelling charm."
"That's a tidy bit of charmwork, Hermione," Filius chirped.
Severus considered the flame for a moment. "For?"
"It's forpests," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. "Just in case."
"...I see," Severus said. He did not see. "Pests."
The last gift was from Minerva, and it was by far the most graciously accepted. "Gloves," she said, clearly pleased with herself. "Suitable for outside in the cold, or inside with a volatile potion." They were thin, but he felt the crinkle of spellwork in the fabric that often accompanied magical garments. He did not bother to suppress the small smile the gift brought to his face. Let the woman see. Itwasa good gift.
It was not long before the drinking began. Tonks, who grew progressively louder as she drank, was entertaining the group with her metamorphoses, a sight that usually would have driven Severus mad, but a look towards Lupin, who sat in the corner with one hand across his face as if to block the sight from his eyes, convinced Severus that it was worth it.
As much as he so enjoyed viewing Lupin's humiliation, even if it was only in the man's own mind, Severus ached to leave. The last way he wanted to end the evening was drinking with his colleagues as though they would not all have be awake at six, downing hangover cures in between classes. Minerva's eyes tracked his movements as he quietly gathered his things, but she made no move to sabotage his escape. He gave her a tiny nod on his way out, though he did not stay long enough to see if the gesture was reciprocated.
The idyllic image of a quiet, wintery day at Hogwarts was shattered shortly after breakfast. There was a shriek followed a series of loudthwumps. Filch shot out of his office and raced down the hall, intent on finding the troublemaker before anyone else, nearly running over Hermione and Septima who were also headed to the source of the commotion. Blackwell lay sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, face down. A pool of blood was already appearing around his head, and as Hermione got closer, she could hear a low, sick moan come from him.
"Oh my god," she whispered, barely registering the hurried footsteps behind her. Severus pushed past them and knelt beside the boy. He gently turned him over, casting a diagnostic charm.
"He needs to get to Poppy now," he said, casting another charm on Blackwell that caused the boy to float in the air.
"Clear the way," Septima called. "Let them through." The students parted, though whether it was due to Septima's command or fear of being in proximity to Severus was anyone's guess.
Severus, guiding the floating body with his wand, moved towards the hospital wing as quickly as he could. "Find out what happened," he muttered as he passed Hermione and Septima.
She nodded, quickly. Whathadhappened? She looked around. There were multiple students on the stairs, hands covering their mouths in shock. More students were at the base of the stairs, including some that had arrived at the sound of commotion.
"Get down here," she called the those on the stairs. The staircase was bound to move any second now. "Carefully!" she added.
The students trudged back down the stairs, moving around the puddle of blood of the floor.
Guilt was clearly written on all of their faces. She looked at each one. Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor… All fifth year students. One was Ryan Henry, the student that had fought with Blackwell only a few months prior.
"What happened?" Hermione asked. She was met with a slew of responses.
"He just went tumbling-"
"I didn't see!"
"He fell!"
Septima came up behind Hermione. "Really? He just fell down the staircase without cause?"
"We didn't see anything, Professor Vector," Tanner Van Burm said. "Honest."
Hermione and Septima shared a sceptical glance, before Hermione scanned the group. "Didanyonesee what happened?"
No one said anything.
"I just washed 'em yesterday," Filch griped, glaring at the bloody floor as though it had plotted this all along.
"This is very serious," Hermione said, ignoring Filch. "If I find out that any of you know what happened and you don't come forward-"
"I swear, Professor Granger. None of us have any idea why that happened. Blackwell's always been a bit of a … loose cannon, I guess."
"A loose cannon?" Hermione repeated in disbelief.
"You all might want to concern yourselves less with cannons and more with what just happened," Septima said. "Because there is a young man in the hospital right now with a head injury. This could be very, very bad."
There was collective shudder among the students, but no one said anything more. Filch trudged off, returning a moment later with a mop. He pointedly began dragging the old mop across the floor.
Hermione thought she would be sick if she had to watch him smear Blackwell's blood around the floor. "Get to class," she said. "Professor Vector and I will walk you."
No one bothered concealing their relief that the questioning was over.
Minerva loved her job. She was also certain that it was taking years, possibly decades off her life. As a professor and deputy headmistress, she had gotten used to long hours. More than once, she had caught Albus sleeping at his desk and had been unable to hide her irritation. After all,shehad no time for cat naps.
Now, she felt that maybe she had been too hard on him. The workload was in some ways lighter, but each day left her emotionally drained. There was all of the hand holding the Ministry required before it would release funds to the school, and the unruly students sent to the office as a last resort. Not to mention fielding questions and complaints from the staff, which had thankfully lessened upon Horace's return to retirement. None of this was to say that she was ungrateful to be the Headmistress of Hogwarts. She had a damn good staff, and even as tired as she felt at the end (or beginning) of each day, she was proud of her work and her students. However, on some days, like the day she spent conducting an investigation to discover what had sent a fifth year student tumbling down like he belonged in a Muggle nursery rhyme, she wished Albus was still alive and in charge. The knowledge that she was responsible for each life in the school weighed heavy in her mind.
For ten hours, she had been flitting from one place to another, from the hospital wing where Poppy had reported that Blackwell was still unconscious, but he would make it, to the staircase the boy had fallen down, to her office where she spoke with each student that had been there at the time of the accident. Septima and Hermione had both given their perspectives on the situation. Filch also presented his, though it was not asked for.
When Minerva was finally alone, she reached into the bottom drawer of her desk where the Ogden's was stored with her left hand. Her right hand was pressed against her forehead, offering some relief from the tension headache that had been building all day.
There was a brief knock and Severus entered her office without waiting for a response.
"Severus. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Minerva said, making no effort to look prim. Godric knows that they had already seen each other at their worst.
She watched as he took in the scene, eyes flicking from her despondent slump to the bottle on her desk. "Long day?" He asked evenly.
"You could certainly say that," Minerva said, indicating for him to take a seat.
"You've made quite a dent," Severus said, gesturing to the bottle.
"It's not the only thing I'd like to put a dent in," Minerva said. "But it's a start."
They sat in weary but comfortable silence for a moment. Minerva poured a glass and offered it to Severus, who declined. She took a sip from it.
"Athene?" She said finally, looking up at him in exasperation.
"It seemed a fitting name. She reminded me of someone else that I admire greatly."
"And I assume that any connections between my own name and your cat's is-"
"Is purely coincidental," Severus said smoothly.
"Of course," Minerva said. Silence fell over the room again, and Minerva examined the glass in her hands.
"Do you think that I show favoritism? To the students, I mean," Minerva said.
"Isn't it your place to evaluate the staff for partiality?" Severus said, his face blank.
Minerva regarded him silently for a moment, taking in the comfortable way he held himself, the relaxed position of his hands. She knew him well enough to know that the more still Severus became, the more mercurial his internal workings were.
"Do you ever tire of evasiveness?" Minerva said, taking another sip of her drink.
Severus gave her a crooked smirk. "I'm tired of a lot of things."
"That's not an answer."
"And yet it is."
She smiled despite herself. "What brings you all the way up here, Severus?"
"Blackwell. I have a difficult time believing that he simplyfelldown the stairs."
"You're not the only one. Are there other incidents that you have seen that might be a cause of concern?"
"There are… several that come to mind. The other day a student's wand somehow ended up in his cauldron. It seemed like an odd occurrence to me."
Minerva frowned. "I see. A Slytherin student?"
Severus made a "who else?" gesture. "I make no efforts to hide my biases, but I am not alone in them. There are others at this school, both students and faculty that have their favorites. I am reaching out on behalf of students who are not protected by status or bias. This needs to be addressed before someone else is hurt. I can't balance the scale by simply taking more house points from Gryffindor if a boy's life is tipping the other side of it."
Minerva heard his words clearly, but in that moment she saw him as he had been as a student, withdrawn and alone. Not protected, not even by his own house.
Having said his piece, Severus stood to leave. "I trust that you can handle this." It could have easily come out as a threat, but Minerva saw it for what it was: a statement of respect. If he did not truly trust her to handle it, then he never would have brought it up at all.
Upon Severus' departure, there were scattered mumbles from the portraits hanging on the far wall. Minerva was unsurprised when one spoke to her directly.
"I must say I am somewhat surprised, Minerva," Albus said. "It is rare for Severus to be as candid as he was tonight."
"He's right, you know," Minerva said wryly, returning the Ogden's to her drawer. "There is a problem with the fighting between houses, and it needs to be addressed on multiple levels."
"But what can be done about it, Minerva?" Albus asked, looking over his half-moon spectacles.
Minerva sighed. "This school is here to protect and educate students, and that is exactly what I intend to do."
"I believe that this will continue to unfold in ways none of us can imagine," Albus said. Minerva's head shot up, but the former headmaster's chin was already tucked to his chest, soft snores rumbling out of his portrait.
"Keep it up, Albus. I'll move your portrait to the dungeons," Minerva warned.
"Please," Phineas called from his portrait. "It would give the rest of us a break."
This wasn't right. Something had to be done about the fighting happening. It had certainly happened during the fall, but after Christmas break, there seemed to be an explosion of bullying across houses. Just a few days ago, Hermione had spent an hour after class as a first year Slytherin student sniffled as she explained why she didn't have her textbook for class. Apparently someone had transfigured it into a fish. The student, afraid that the fish would suffocate, quickly threw it in a pitcher of water where it once again became her textbook, soggy and ruined.
This was the first time Hermione had seen a student openly complain about what was happening. The older Slytherin students especially did not say anything, but she knew that there was clandestine fighting that was not dissimilar to the fights that had happened when Umbridge had taken over Hogwarts. The lack of support from faculty is what had drove her and Harry to create Dumbledore's Army in the first place. Now, she was seeing it happen again.
But the situation was different. There was no war, there was no reason for teenagers to have dark secrets and to create secret armies. She understood where the other students were coming from. Many had seen friends and loved ones die, and most had experienced first hand the injustice that dark wizards had to offer, but did not make it acceptable to terrorize other students who had also experienced the same tragedies.
While she was as much aware as anyone of the nastiness that could come from the Slytherin house, when she looked at her young students, she saw all of the hope and opportunity they still had. Surely this should be encouraged, not crushed. Ostracizing an entire house would only further the divide and only perpetuate the legacy of villainy in the Slytherin house. So, something must be done.
This is how she found herself marching into Minerva's office the afternoon after Blackwell's tumble, ready to stay until Minerva heard her out.
It took a couple of seconds for it to set in that the room was already full of people. There was Lavender, Remus, Septima, Aurora, Severus, Filius… The entire faculty was gathered in McGonagall's office, grim faced and looking expectantly at their leader.
Minerva glanced up from her position behind her desk. Even sitting, she commanded authority. "Hermione," she said. "We've been waiting."
The self righteous anger that had fueled Hermione's storm into the headmistress's office was replaced with the confusion of a meeting she apparently did not know about, and a tinge of embarrassment for beinglateto anything.
"Please sit," Minerva gestured to the row of transfigured chairs. "Now, we are all aware of the situation. As an update for those of you who are not aware, Mr. Blackwell is now awake and recovering under the ever watchful eye of our wonderful healer."
There was a collective sigh of relief.
"It appears that our long history of interhouse rivalry has taken a dark turn. Perhaps this is a turn that happened before now. Pranks are one thing, but I will not have students sent here only to be harassed and hurt. While examining the staircase Mr. Blackwell fell down, I uncovered a step that had been altered so that it disappears every few seconds. If a student were to be standing on it when it disappears…"
"They would topple," Tonks said.
"Precisely," Minerva said. "It is certainly fortunate, although suspicious, that no one else fell yesterday. However, I worry about the likelihood of students getting injured in similar circumstances. In recent years, there has been serious safety concern at this school, and I believe it is time to rebuild the Hogwarts legacy. Now more than ever, we need to make a change."
She paused, and Hermione marveled at her ability to command a room. She wondered if that was something that came with practice or was simply an innate quality of Minerva herself.
"As such, I am asking each of you to take on an additional role. With Greyback still at large, the last thing we need is the student body to crumble from the inside out. Dark magic will find its way into these walls if given the opportunity. And with that in mind, Tonks and Remus, I want you to run extra security measures within Hogwarts. Hagrid, you will continue to address any issues that arise outside of the school's walls. As always, report if you find something amiss."
Minerva continued to assign tasks to others. Lavender, Aurora, Filius, and Pomona would work together to create a common forum for the students.
"Hermione," she perked at her name, "Elias, and Severus. I want the three of you to address interhouse rivalries. Hermione, your focus will be building rapport with the Slytherins. Elias, I want you to do the same thing for our often neglected Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses, and Severus, I want you to work on relations with Gryffindor students." There was a loud chuckle at this, but Minerva pressed her lips together and waited until the laughter died down. It was an old tactic, but effective.
"I'm sure I do not need to remind anyone of how serious this is," Minerva said. "There will be plenty of time for jokes when I don't have to explain to parents why their son is not in class."
"Now, we all have work to do," Minerva said, pressing her hands together. "You're dismissed."
As other faculty members trickled out, Hermione took the opportunity to apologize to Minerva for holding up the meeting.
"Hermione, I apologize for not letting you know. I told the others at lunch today, but you weren't there."
Hermione flushed. "I was c-"
"No need to explain," Minerva said gently. "It was just a miscommunication."
Hermione wished her a good evening, and left, trying to forget the sick swoop her stomach took when she thought she had let Minerva down. She could think about that later. Right now, she had to figure out how to improve the Slytherins' inter house relations.
For some food was a source of pleasure, a decadence. The taste, presentation, and aroma went beyond the bare-boned necessity of survival. For Severus, it was strictly sustenance. To deprive a body of food and water was to deprive the body of life. He knew that as well as the next person. And while he did not follow the most consistent of diets, he did make a point of eating before he keeled over.
As such, it was not an irregular occurrence for him to be present at meals. That morning he was seated at the table in the Great Hall, eating breakfast with the rest of the staff. As a rule, he refused to look up from the table for the entirety of the meal. He would have to stare at the little imbeciles all day, so there was no point to put off his appetite just to keep a watchful eye on their acne-ridden faces.
But of course, every rule has its exception. When he heard the general chatter that accompanied the morning meal abruptly diminish and just as swiftly return with a buzz, he glanced up and promptly choked on his oatmeal. Hermione Granger was marching towards the table in what at first glance appeared to be some sort of Muggle business attire: a fitted white button up, black skirt, and a tie. Specifically a Slytherin tie. She kept her head high as she took a seat beside Severus.
He, along with most of the student body, continued to gape at her while she selected a piece of toast and covered it with a modest amount of jam. She munched on the toast as though she was completely unaware of the stares and whispers her entrance had generated.
"What," he began, his throat hoarse. He cleared it before continuing, "In Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"
"Good morning, Severus," Hermione said primly. "How is the oatmeal this morning?"
"Dry," he said. "Granger. Have you lost your mind?"
She pressed her lips together before answering him. "No."
"I believe you have," Severus said conversationally. "Because I can think of no other explanation for why you would be prancing around in a Slytherin student's tie."
"Ihappento be making a statement," she said.
"And what statement would that be? You've realized years too late which house is truly superior?"
"That statement is that I am trying to buildrapport. So unless you have a better idea, kindly lay off," Hermione hissed. She took a savage bite from her toast, ripping it nearly in half.
Severus turned beseechingly to Minerva who was studiously ignoring the reactions of both students and staff alike. Granger must have cleared her absurd idea by Minerva ahead of time then, because it was clear that her ensemble had not come as a shock to the headmistress.
"I must say, Hermione, as strange as it is to see you wearing a tie that is not Gryffindor colors, green does suit you," Septima commented from Granger's other side.
Hermione shot Severus a look. "Thank you," she said pointedly to Septima. "What a kind thing to say."
Severus ignored her meaningful glances and continued eating his breakfast. It really was quite dry.
"Do you knowwhyI am wearing Slytherin colors today?" Hermione asked, hip pressed against her desk as she looked at her third year class.
"Because you're trying to get resorted?" A Slytherin student volunteered. There was series of giggles from one side of the room, met with a series grumbles from the other.
Hermione frowned. Why was every Slytherin's assumption that she wanted to be a part of their elitist house?
"I am doing this to make a statement," she said. "One that I hope will not be lost to any of you. The colors you wear today have no bearing on who you or who you'll be, whether you'll be good people or not. The purpose of the four houses is to establish a sense of family for you here while you're away from your parents. It's to acknowledge what you find personally important and to hone your abilities to succeed in the way that you define success. It is not an excuse to bully, ostracize, or discriminate."
A sprinkling of students across the room nodded as she spoke, though her stomach sank further and further with each stony face she saw. A hand tentatively raised.
"Uh, Professor Granger? What's ostercize mean?"
"Ostracize, Mr. Rosier, ostracize. It means to exclude someone."
"But what if some people deserve to be excluded?"
Hermione sighed. "I'm not saying that you have to be friends with everyone you meet, but you do need to consider whether your biases, or assumptions, are overriding your ability to see a situation for what it really is. As a student here, I wore Gryffindor colors proudly from the day I entered the school for the first time to the last time I left on the Hogwarts Express. As a professor, I wear regular robes. Today, I am wearing green. Have I changed simply because my wardrobe has?"
"No," the class chorused. By now, Hermione knew that just because a class appeared to agree did not mean that they actually did, but she certainly thought it was a start.
"Be proud of your house, but also realize that at the end of your education, you're all going to leave Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw behind. You're going to go work at the Ministry, or as business owners, or Quidditch players-" there was a few cheers at that one, "-and your coworkers are going to be from different houses, different schools. You're going to have to learn to work together, and that lesson starts here. For that reason, we will be changing the seating arrangement."
The class groaned. The room was practically split down the middle with Gryffindors on one side and Slytherins on the other. "Now, I want you each to pair up with someone from the other house and continue working on turning your teapots into tortoises. I'll be walking around to help. You will all be graded not only on your ability to complete the task, but also on your ability to work with your partner. Let's get started."
The class continued to complain, but they all found their partners and began to work. Hermione allowed herself a moment to measure the success of her speech. Perhaps not as much of a tear-jerker as she had hoped, but it had started the conversation. Maybe that was enough for one day.
"Did you get a look at Snape's face yesterday? He couldn't stop staring at her."
"Can you blame 'im? Did you see that nice pair of tits she has? It's a real shame that they're covered up most of the time."
Severus stood still and crossed his arms. When the two boys rounded the corner, they were still snickering. Only one of them, Darius Berrow, saw him waiting.
"The real shame is that she's a Mudblood. Overwise I'd-" Tristam Bassenthwaite was cut off by a white faced Berrow who grabbed him before he could finish the statement.
It was then that Bassenthwaite also saw Severus standing there.
"Please do continue, Mr. Bassenthwaite," Severus sneered. "You've already earned yourself three months of detention." He was quite familiar with Berrow and Bassenthwaite. Halfwits, both of them. They were fourth year Slytherins from prominent families, not with as strong of ties to supremacy as the Blacks, Malfoys, or Goyles, but they were certainly no strangers to concept of blood purity.
Bassenthwaite trembled as he shook his head.
"No? Nothing at all to say? What about you, Mr. Berrow?"
Berrow gave a jerky shake in refusal.
"Nothing? Pity."
"Sir, I-"
"Headmistress's office. Now," Severus said. His anger, dormant for some time, was quickly bubbling up. The sooner the situation was dealt with, the greater likelihood Berrow and Bassenthwaite had of surviving the day.
He left the boys waiting outside when he barged into Minerva's office. Minerva and Hermione, in the middle of tea, both jumped at the sight of him.
"Severus! What on earth is the matter?" Minerva cried.
"I have two students standing outside who would like to discuss something with you," Severus said. He looked at Hermione, "Both of you."
Hermione went still for a moment. "Ah," she said, face hardening as though she already knew what had happened.
"Bring them in, Severus," Minerva said.
He did so, and both boys shuffled forward. With their heads lowered and shoulders slumped, they did not resemble the cocky students that Severus had heard only minutes before.
Minerva had moved over to her desk and sat with her hands folded on it. "Would either of you like to tell me why Professor Snape has sent you both to me?"
"Not particularly, ma'am."
"That wasn't a request, Berrow," Severus growled.
"Well… me and Tristam were joking around and Professor Snape overheard us. We didn't mean anything by it though! Honest!"
"I see. And whatjokesdid this conversation entail?"
Neither boy responded. They still had their heads bowed, and it didn't appear to Severus that they had made eye contact with a single person since entering the room.
"Mr. Bassenthwaite?" Minerva prompted.
"We were talking about Professor Granger's, uh, chest. And then I may have accidentally called her something."
"Out with it, Mr. Bassenthwaite. I assume that you did not show such restraint during your conversation with Mr. Berrow."
"No, ma'am. I, um, called her a Mudblood?"
"Are you asking me, or are you telling me?"
"Telling?"
Minerva might as well been made of stone. She stared at the both of them with such severity that both of them cringed. Nothing was said for a moment. The only sound was Bassenthwaite, who sounded on the verge of hyperventilating.
"If I may?" Hermione interjected. Minerva gestured for her to say something.
"Look at me. Both of you." Hermione's gaze was steady at it met theirs. "I believe that there is no belief that you should be willing to say in private that you are ashamed to say to others. I also want to convey something to you two. I am not ashamed of who I am. I amproudto be a Mudblood." She put no emphasis on the last word, but there was collective flinch anyway. "I am also your instructor- something that I am less proud of in this moment.
"You need to think about whether you are proud of the things you say and the actions you take. I can promise you, regardless of what those things are, they will have consequences. I am not yours to sexualize or belittle. Disrespect is not something that I will tolerate, nor will any other member of this staff."
"Yes, ma'am," they both mumbled.
"Well said, Professor Granger," Minerva nodded. "I hope that what she has said is resonating with you, gentlemen. I would like to reiterate that there will be no tolerance for the language or attitudes that you both displayed today."
"Yes, ma'am," Berrow and Bassenthwaite chorused.
Minerva turned towards Severus. "Severus, I assume that you have a stance on what would be an appropriate punishment."
"Mr. Bassenthwaite and Mr. Berrow have already been assigned three months detention by myself. However, I believe that such behavior warrants a response of greater severity. I would like to recommend suspension."
Berrow was beginning to look as though he might vomit.
Minerva considered both of them. "I fully support Professor Snape's assignment of detention and will leave the details to be arranged as he sees fit. Iamwilling to defer your suspension-with the understanding that any similar incident in the future will result in your immediate removal from school grounds. Furthermore, Professor Granger is working in tandem with the rest of the staff to alleviate inter-house conflict. I now expect both of you to be a shining example for the rest of the student body. This includes preventing and reporting everything from vile blood purity rhetoric to fighting between houses. Do I make myself clear?"
Both boys were quick to agree and when dismissed, they fled.
Minerva groaned. "Cut the head off a hydra and two will grow in its place." She pulled out the Firewhiskey as well as three glasses in such a practiced motion that Severus wondered to the frequency it must occur. Hermione and Severus took the recently vacated seats in front of Minerva's desk and took the drinks that Minerva passed to them.
"There's ten percent of Slytherins who believe in blood purity, and one hundred percent are accused of it," Hermione said, taking a tentative sip. "Which obviously wrecks Slytherins' ability to get along with anyone from another house, but I have no idea how to simultaneously defy Slytherin stereotypes and stamp out the hate speech that's fueling the stereotypes."
"It is certainly a conundrum," someone commented from behind Severus and Hermione.
"Albus, have you been listening this whole time?" Minerva asked.
"We all have," he said, gesturing grandly towards the other portraits in the room. "You'll find that as a portrait, it is not often anything interesting happens."
"Not to you, maybe. But I have had more than enough excitement for my taste," Phineas chimed in. "And all this talk about Mudb-"
"Don't," Snape said without turning to look at Phineas's portrait. Hermione gave him a curious look, which he ignored.
"AboutMuggleborns, then, is exhausting."
Severus rubbed his forehead. Hermione rolled her eyes. Both Severus and Minerva had drained their glasses, and Minerva moved to refill them. Hermione had hardly touched hers. "It's bad for your teeth," she said defensively when they smirked at her mostly full glass.
Bad for teeth or not, it certainly made Severus feel better.
"January 20th! I was born on the cusp, you know, between Capricorn and Aquarius, though I've always seen myself as more of an Aquarius," Lavender prattled.
Hermione picked at the blueberry muffin on her plate, wishing she could enjoy it properly. It smelled divine. "You don't say," she said, shooting a pleading glance down the table. No one made eye contact with her.Cowards.
"Of course, if you have an unaspected planet, such as myself, it changes things as well..."
Aurora, who was seated on Lavender's other side,hmm'd in agreement.Sheat least knew what Lavender was referencing. Hermione's divination education had stopped after the disastrous class with Trelawney during her third year.
Remus finally took pity on Hermione and leaned over. "Have any plans this evening, Lavender?"
"I'm going out with a friend," Lavender said. Hermione turned to look at her. As far assheknew, Lavender didn't really have many friends. In any case, she happened to know that there was surprise party planned for Lavender that very evening. Not that Lavender needed to read her tea leaves to know that. Flitwick's memory must be going, because he had accidentally referenced "the party" twice already.
"Don't worry, though," Lavender said with a lazy wave of her fork. "I'll be there for the party."
"What party?" Hermione asked. Her unconvincing innocence was further discredited when Filius muttered to Minerva, "Did someone tell her about the party?"
Lavender flashed a triumphant smile and stood up, ready to head to her first class of the day. Hermione sighed before she too slowly rose from the table.
She yawned repeated on her way to her classroom. Her sleep was still riddled with nightmares, sudden wakings, and long periods of restlessness that often left her feeling blurry during the day. Sleeping potions did not seem to have much effect, though she had not given up on them entirely. As long as she remained able to function during class, her litmus test since childhood, Hermione had decided that she wasfine.
The day seemed to drag on and on, one class bleeding into the next until at last the classroom remained empty. It was late by the time Lavender's party ended, Remus had received his Wolfsbane potion, and Hermione was finally free to retire for the evening.
In her bedroom, Crookshanks was hogging most of her pillow. The only light in the room was from the blue flame floating by her nightstand. It was nearly identical to the one she had given Severus, repelling charm and all. She had fashioned a similar one for Lavender for an early birthday present. Hopefully, as she told Severus, it would keep thepestsaway. At least until Hermione figured out how to squash the bug behindThe Emerald Quill.
Speaking of which, she had a stack of confiscated issues that she had salvaged from Severus' burn pile sitting on her nightstand. While it might amount to only a few pages of drivel, she needed to know what Rita was saying. Rita was up to something, and Hermione needed to figure out what it was before Skeeter made her next move. Sleep could wait a few more minutes. Hermione piled her hair into a loose bun, picked up the top issue and began to read.
Happy New Year! For all two of you that have been wondering where I've been the past few months, the answer is I got a new job. And then another new job. And then the holidays happened. So... yeah. But I'm alive and will still be updating.
Super huge thanks to CMDRHill who takes the time to read through all the garbage I send her way.
