Chapter 2: Injured Pride and Prejudice
Author's Note & Anti-Litigation Charm
I don't own Lupin, wands, the Floo Network, or any other aspect of JK Rowling's creation. Instead, I bring them out to play since she has graciously allowed us to borrow her genius. Anything that you recognize is hers, or a variation thereof. I shall try my best to give credit where credit is due in every way possible.
We'll all get our Snape fixes soon, I promise – bear with me please. Cheers!
The ornately decorated foyer into which Hermione stumbled served to make her keenly aware of the graceless nature of her arrival: covered in soot, coughing, and wildly off-balance, she felt entirely at odds with the opulent setting she had just entered. I suppose I could've put some of my time yesterday to good use cleaning out the chimney, she thought wryly.
Looking about anxiously and trying to covertly beat off some of the dust, Hermione saw a house-elf approaching her, taking in her sooty appearance with evident disdain. Taking a closer look, Hermione was hard-pressed not to do a double-take: the little elf appeared to be wearing clothes. Hope surged within her as Hermione thought that she may have, at long last, found someone quite in agreement with her notions about the treatment of house-elves.
"Hello," Hermione said as pleasantly as she could.
Before responding, the elf snapped her fingers, nodding in approval as the soot covering Hermione's clothes, hair, and skin vanished. Under that critical gaze and surrounded as she was by such rich surroundings, Hermione was keenly aware that her student robes did her no particular favors in terms of professionalism or attractiveness. Regardless of how this interview went, she resolved to expand her wardrobe very soon.
"Welcome, Miss," the elf squeaked, bowing low. "Master Arth has sent Orry to welcome Miss to the Eagle's Nest." The elf straightened up from her bow, her large blue eyes much less reproachful now that Orry evidently felt that Hermione was presentable. "Is there anything that Miss would like Orry to fetch? Any refreshments or comforts?"
"Oh, no thank you, Orry," Hermione assured the little elf. "If he's ready for me, I'd like to meet your master."
"Very well, Miss," agreed Orry.
With another bow, she lead Hermione out of the spacious foyer, along a richly embellished hall, and into a beautiful parlour. The mahogany floor was covered almost entirely by a creamy space rug, and all the furniture was an ivory shade with rich, chocolate-colored accents. An entire wall was made of windows, curtained with a thick, gauzy fabric which gentled the late morning light into a diffused brilliance that made the room seem to glow with inner warmth. Hermione was sure she'd never seen such tasteful opulence. What little she had seen of the Malfoy estate had been grossly overstated – besides which, Hermione had hardly been in a position to appreciate the décor when she had been in Malfoy Mansion.
The man she could only assume was Arth Eagleton had been sitting primly in an overstuffed grandfather chair and rose to greet her as she had entered the room. He had about him the air of an aristocrat – and the trappings, bedecked as he was in a dark charcoal suit with a black-and-burgundy frock coat. Leaning against his chair was a highly polished cane topped with a golden eagle – Hermione found herself once again making a comparison to the Malfoys as Lucius' serpent-topped cane came to mind, and she was grateful that the comparisons were casting Eagleton in the more favorable light. Certainly, the smile he gave her as she stepped forward was warmer than anything that Hermione thought Lucius could be capable of.
"Master Arth, presenting Miss Hermione Granger," Orry said in her high little voice. "Miss Granger, presenting my Master, Arth Eagleton."
"Thank you, Orry," Eagleton said, his eyes never leaving Hermione's. "Bring us tea."
The little elf bowed low, and vanished with a crack.
As he gestured her into a chair that matched his own, Hermione surveyed the man. He looked quite old, but Hermione had never really had a knack for guessing wizard's ages, still unsure as to how their longer life-span affected their appearance. His good-natured face was lined with wrinkles, but they gave him a friendly look – as if he'd earned them by smiling for his whole life. His pure white hair was just longer than his shoulders, and his eyes were all but hidden under bushy white brows. On the whole, the effect was that of a kindly favorite uncle.
"Miss Granger," he said in a warm, clear voice, "Such a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine," Hermione demurred, smiling as he gestured her into the chair nearest his own.
They lapsed into small talk that lasted until Orry returned with tea, which Hermione accepted gratefully. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, but her nerves from earlier in the morning had left her quite aflutter, and tea, as every good Englishman and woman knows, would solve any indisposition.
"Now, I hear that you have just graduated from Hogwarts?" asked Eagleton after an appropriate amount of time had been spent on the pleasantries.
"Yes, sir."
"But aren't you a year past the normal age for graduation?" he asked mildly.
"Well yes, but what was supposed to be my last school year was rather interrupted," Hermione said cautiously. "I'm not sure how much you know about the last year of Voldemort's second war?"
Having spent the last year in Hogwarts, living in the direct results of the war, it was easy to assume that the entire world was aware of the events surrounding Voldemort's downfall. She didn't like the attention that was so frequently focused on her as a part of the Golden Trio, but she hadn't thought that needing to 'repeat' her seventh year at Hogwarts would be called into question.
"Not much," the man said primly. "My family and I refused the so-called Lord Voldemort's overtures during his initial rise to power and left the country, so when the rumors of his return began about five years ago, we found it prudent to relocate to the Continent until the situation became clearer. Circumspection seemed wise."
"Wise indeed," Hermione agreed. How few families were as lucky as the Eagletons, she thought sadly. "I'm a little surprised that it was as easy as moving," she said hesitantly, "Voldemort never really struck me as the kind to take rejection easily."
There was a faint look of smugness on Eagleton's face as he responded. "Well," he said amicably, "he was hardly going to go out of his way to spill Pure blood, was he? Lord Voldemort was never eager to hunt down the Pure of blood – nor were his followers. Even when they had nothing to lose, members of his inner circle were careful not to kill the Longbottom couple, if what I've heard is true."
There was a catch in Hermione's throat at the thought of anyone saying that Bellatrix Lestrange had been 'careful' as she tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity; but she swallowed past it and attempted to return the conversation to safer waters.
"Either way, I'm glad that you were kept safe," she said as lightly as she could, hoping her voice didn't sound as strained as she felt. "The last year of Voldemort's reign, not to mention the presence of Death Eaters in the school, made it difficult to finish the year properly, so all seventh years were invited back this past year."
"I see," said Eagleton, and the talk turned to her grades and how she found her classes.
Almost an hour had passed after the mention of Voldemort, and Hermione was starting to feel that the meeting would end in a contract-signing.
"Now, as to your family," Eagleton said, after they had finished agreeing that Slughorn was likeable enough in his own way, but far too sure of his own influence. "Are you related to the Dagworth-Grangers?"
Hermione, who had heard this question before from Slughorn himself, smiled as she shook her head. "No, sir."
"The family Von Grange in Germany?" he asked, a flicker of a frown marring his aristocratic features.
"No, sir," Hermione said again. "I'm not related to any notable wizarding family – actually, I've no wizarding family at all."
Eagleton looked taken aback. "But you're – you're Muggleborn?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes sir," responded Hermione, feeling heat in her cheeks at his reaction.
"And you did so very well in all of your tests?" he asked suspiciously.
"Yes, sir," she said with a hint of steel in her tone, "And I'd remind you that the faction of Wizarding Britain that has no use for Mudbloods just lost a war."
Instantly, Eagleton drew himself up, his eyes sparking with anger. "My dear girl!" he exclaimed. "Never has such a vulgarity been used in this house! What insolence! What baseness!"
It was Hermione's turn to be taken by surprise. "I – but I thought –" she stammered, unsure of how to give voice to her astonishment. "I don't understand - h-how can you think that way? You said you refused Voldemort! But then you acted the same way as any of his - his followers…"
"Miss Granger," he hissed with no little force, "not everyone who values wizarding purity is as vulgar and crass as those fools who styled themselves Death Eaters. I refused Lord Voldemort because violence is not the answer to the Muggle problem – we need to instruct and teach them, rather than enslaving and killing them! To simply assume that I shared the morals of those animals, to think that I would abide such foul language is the height of presumption!"
Hermione simply stared, aware that she was being both impolite and unimpressive, and suddenly not caring.
"I – I beg your pardon, sir," she said at length. "I did not mean to…give offense."
"Pardon granted," Eagleton responded curtly, and seemed to relax, although there was a hint at his displeasure in the purse of his lips.
An awkward silence passed, interrupted by the clinking of china as Orry came and removed the tea service.
"Perhaps," Eagleton said gently, "this apprenticeship is not the best idea."
"I agree," Hermione said, biting back on harsher words. She could never allow herself to study under someone who considered Muggles and Muggle-borns to be a 'problem.' Watching Orry retreat, Hermione felt a little sick, given that she'd thought the elf's clothes were a sign of like-mindedness.
"Is Orry free?" she asked impulsively, although half a second later she wished she could retract her words. If the elf was free, it was certainly no concern of hers. And if, somehow, she wasn't, then the inquiry would only serve to make matters more tense.
"No," Arth replied with a disbelieving look. To his credit, Hermione had been half-expecting the man to say 'of course not,' so such a gentle answer was a boon.
"But she wears clothes," Hermione said, by way of explaining her reasoning.
"Ah," the old man replied, nodding contemplatively. "It is only the act of giving a house-elf clothes that frees them," he explained. "Orry was instructed to make those for herself, as all of our elves do. It certainly wouldn't do for them to parade around in pillow covers or rags."
"I see," Hermione said, letting the matter drop. In her heart of hearts, she lamented the fact that it felt, at times, as if there would always be knowledge that purebloods and half-bloods took for granted.
Not wanting to leave on a sour note, Hermione made a few earnest compliments of the appointment of the house, which Eagleton accepted with genuine pleasure. As that thread of conversation died away, however, Hermione felt that it was time to move on from what could not be a fruitful meeting.
Rising a little stiffly, Hermione gave the best smile she could muster. "I appreciate your time, Mr. Eagleton."
Eagleton held out a lordly hand. "A pleasure, Miss Granger," he said with every appearance of sincerity. Hermione was once again reminded of the two-faced Lucius Malfoy, and bitterly resented every charitable thought she'd held toward Eagleton.
"Good day," she said as Orry came to lead her from the room.
"Master Arth thanks Miss for her visit," Orry said cooly, holding a golden pot filled with Floo powder for Hermione to use.
Accepting a pinch, Hermione gave the elf the warmest smile she could muster. "Thank your Master for his hospitality," she said, and returned to her parents' house.
When Hermione's parents returned from their dental office, they found their daughter sitting quite still at the dinner table. She looked up at them with a placid expression and asked how their days went, listened politely, and left the room before they could ask her about her interview.
They found that there was no need to ask, however, when they went into their back yard and saw an entire set of chinaware shattered against a wall, tiny shards littering the ground like so much spent confetti.
With a strangled cry, Mrs. Granger ran into her kitchen and flung open the cabinets. She was both surprised and thrilled to find all of her china in perfect condition, despite having been sure that she'd seen her pattern on the shards outside.
"That's one of the more convenient things about being a witch," Hermione commented from the hall, accurately interpreting the look of delight and confusion on her mother's face. "I replicated your china set." She made her way into the back yard, where she Vanished all of the shards.
"I didn't really mean to leave that lying about," Hermione said apologetically. "I'll talk to you more about the interview later, but I really have to go right now," she added. "It…it didn't go well."
At that moment, Hermione could not face a discussion with her parents about being denied an apprenticeship essentially because they, her parents, were non-magical. If she were honest with herself, she'd admit that if she'd handled the situation a little more gracefully, it might not have turned into such a disaster, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to study under a man as biased as Arth Eagleton, no matter how kindly he was, or how passive he was about his prejudice.
It wasn't that Hermione blamed her parents in any way – she was, as she'd made such a big point of during the last years of Voldemort's reign, proud of her Muggle heritage, proud of what she'd accomplished despite being at an eleven-year disadvantage under the majority of her classmates, proud of her parents' dentistry practice and total lack of magic. However, she couldn't look them in the eyes and tell them of her exchange with Eagleton – not yet.
Through her years at Hogwarts, Hermione had very carefully said little to her parents about the bias she met because of her blood status. She passed Malfoy off as a general bully, rather than someone who targeted her, specifically, because of her parentage. She was forthright about Voldemort's views on blood purity, of course, but tried to make it seem as if that put her in no real danger – which, she rationalized, was true enough, since Voldemort had cared much more about the fact that she was helping Harry than that she was a Muggle-born.
She Apparated to Grimmauld Place, grateful that it was the weekend and that she was therefore likely to find all three of the men she wanted most to talk to in one place.
Finding them all seated in the parlour, Hermione sat herself with very little in the way of greetings.
"How'd it go, then?" asked Ron in his usually oblivious manner.
Hermione knew her own behaviours well enough to know that, if the interview had gone well, she'd have fairly bounced into the room with her enthusiasm to share the good news. She hoped that this was simply Ron's way of showing interest – and then wondered, idly, if Ron had in fact seen the note she sent, or if Remus had had to inform the boys of her visit.
"It was – well, a bit of a fiasco," Hermione admitted, and she proceeded to recount their conversation.
"…and after all that, he said it was 'a pleasure' as if nothing at all had happened!" she finished her re-telling.
"What a bastard," Ron said with a smug tone. "You're well shot of him, aren't you?"
"He's missed out on a good apprentice," Harry said. "You just wait, Hermione – a few years, and you'll be bringing in the galleons with patents, and whoever does get you as an apprentice is going to be feeling right lucky about it."
Hermione gave her friends a grateful smile.
"I guess I was just so…shocked…that someone as nice as Mr. Eagleton was could still hold such an obtuse bias."
"It isn't that surprising, Hermione," Lupin said gravely. "Not everyone who values blood purity supported Riddle, just like not all of his supporters were really that concerned with blood purity. There will, unfortunately, always be wizards with that sort of prejudice."
"You're not supporting Eagleton too, are you Remus?" Ron asked with a touch of asperity, "First you're saying that Snape's a nice guy, now you're excusing this git?"
"I'm neither supporting nor excusing Eagleton's prejudice, Ron," Lupin said wearily. "I am simply trying to help Hermione understand that not all blood prejudice was wiped out with Riddle."
Hermione nodded in understanding, hoping to prevent a retort from Ron. "I guess I knew that, it was just so unexpected. I haven't really met anyone who didn't espouse the Death Eater view of it- people like Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange. I was pretty angry at first, but I guess that the fact that he refused Voldemort actually does say something of his character. I imagine that when he was in the height of his power the first time around, he was pretty difficult to say 'no' to, even with any protection that being Pure-blooded might have offered him."
"The Eagleton family did a very brave thing by sticking to their principles," Lupin agreed.
"Can't have been that brave, can he now?" asked Ron, "Running away like that? Bit of a coward, if you ask me."
"Arth Eagleton denied Riddle something he wanted very much – a highly skilled Potions Master. I highly doubt that he was as safe as he lets on, simply moving to another country. By absenting himself, he made sure that he was out of the way of the Imperius curse, or any threats or bribes that would have coerced him to work with Riddle – thereby depriving him of a very potent weapon indeed." Lupin was quite for a moment, giving Hermione an inscrutable look, appearing to be on the verge of saying something, but after a time, he simply shook his head and directed the conversation to happier topics. Before it passed, the look reminded her of the way Remus had looked at her a few nights earlier, and Hermione wondered what it was that was giving her friend pause. Since he made no effort to pursue the matter though, she allowed the conversation to move on.
Before she returned home that night, Hermione spoke with Lupin about coming by early in the coming week to talk about other possible options, now that the three UK Masters had ruled themselves out.
"I guess my next step is to write to Masters on the Continent," Hermione told Lupin that Tuesday. She bit into her sandwich, a pensive look on her face. "I'd rather not travel any further than necessary, but I suppose I could start with the Potions Masters in France, and work my way out from there."
Lupin was already shaking his head. "Hermione," he said, a touch of humor in his voice, "In your eight years of knowing wizards, have you learned nothing of our behavior? Have the protections around Hogwarts, around the World Cup pitch, or around this very house taught you nothing about how suspicious wizards are, by nature?"
This startled Hermione. "What's to be suspicious of?" she asked blankly.
"The idea of study abroad – actual, sustained study, not just a holiday of some sorts - isn't terribly popular with wizards. It isn't precisely un-heard of, but neither is it encouraged. You'll be met, at best, with disinterest – there are undoubtedly bright young French witches and wizards seeking apprenticeships, so why should they look to a British girl? After that will be suspicion – why else would a British witch want to study under a Frenchman, if not to pry into the secrets of the French Minsitry, or to recruit foreign support for some power play? It's unlikely, but you may even meet trouble because of our war – after Grindewald's defeat so long ago, Riddle was the only Dark Lord to pose much any threat at all, and the rest of Europe tends to view him as, well, our fault." As he ticked off excuses, Hermione's heart sank.
"I've got to at least try, haven't I?" Hermione asked timidly.
"I don't doubt that you do – for your own satisfaction, if nothing else," allowed Lupin with a smile. "Although," he added thoughtfully, "I don't see why you turned to the Continent for answers without first exhausting all your local options."
"I – but – I did!" Hermione argued, caught off-guard by Lupin's statement. "You said yourself that the only other Master was in Azkaban, and you were right – I don't fancy studying in prison."
"I said that there were four Potions Masters, minus McKweon. You only wrote to three."
Suddenly, the source of Lupin's questioning looks was very evident.
"But the fourth was – Professor Snape, right? Of course I wouldn't have written to him!" Hermione exclaimed.
"I don't see why you think it's so obvious that you wouldn't ask him," Lupin said mildly. "After all, you yourself have defended his teaching ability – and his character. You already know that, even if you don't like him very much, he is a trustworthy man, and one who will go far out of his way to protect those that he feels responsible for. You can't question, surely, his ability in his field, can you? After all, after asking Arth Eagleton – who was first on the list, I imagine, because of his blood status – it was Severus that Riddle turned to for his potions. Whatever else his faults may have been," Lupin finished with a smile, "Riddle wanted only the most reliably talented man for the job."
"Voldemort asked Professor Snape because he was interested in the Dark Arts!" Hermione countered.
"Severus agreed because he was interested in the Dark Arts," corrected Lupin, "but I hardly think that Riddle really cared about what a poor half-blood was or was not interested in, except where it was directly helpful to him."
"That's beside the point," Hermione said, pushing her defeat aside with a wave of her hand, "Professor Snape is ill, he can't mentor anyone."
"I told you more than a week ago that he was well on his way to full recovery," Lupin said briskly. "Only weeks away, in fact. He gets stronger every day."
"He won't want to teach me."
"At least give the man a chance to refuse you," he responded, exasperation evident in his voice, "rather than doing it for him!"
Hermione paused, momentarily out of arguments. Lupin simply looked at her, his curiosity at her resistance evident.
"I'm going to write to some foreign Potions Masters," Hermione said at length, "I'll give it three weeks."
"And then?" prompted Lupin.
"And then I'll talk to the Professor," Hermione said, conceding defeat.
As she copied out letters to different Masters in mainland Europe, Hermione considered Lupin's suggestion.
When the prospect of attempting a Mastery of any sort, let alone Potions, had first come up, Hermione hadn't even considered asking Severus Snape. It wasn't that she had dismissed the notion out of hand – it had simply never occurred to her. At first, he'd been almost comatose in St. Mungo's, and was therefore hardly a likely candidate. After his recuperation and release, though, it really would have been best to give the man some consideration. She couldn't imagine a scenario that would lead to the man taking on a Gryffindor as an apprentice, and the notion seemed so unlikely that she was hardly surprised it hadn't suggested itself to her.
Everything Lupin had said, Hermione knew, was correct. In the Final Battle, Severus had once and for all proven that he was trustworthy – or had been, for about as long as Hermione had been alive. His skill was perfect, and his dedication to the art of potion-making was total.
For all of that, though, Hermione couldn't imagine asking him for the favor of an apprenticeship. "Hello there, Professor, remember me? I'm the know-it-all that plagued your class for six years, the silly girl who suspected you of betraying Dumbledore to help Voldemort in her first year, stole from your private stores in second year, managed to knock you unconscious in her third year, saw you reveal yourself as a Death Eater in fourth year, beat your precious Draco Malfoy – and the entire rest of the class – in our Potions O.W.L. in fifth year, refused to believe in you after you obeyed Dumbledore's orders in sixth year, and heard all about the private memories you shared with Harry – not to mention watching you die without doing anything to help – in what should have been my seventh year. I'd really like to be your apprentice, so would you mind taking me under your wing for the next two to three years?" She shook her head with a laugh at the thought.
It might be a question of his personality, she thought, but she had reason to hope that the circumstances would be different enough that the Professor wouldn't feel the need to be entirely horrible to her. She was an adult, she was not a dunderhead but was in fact quite skilled in potion-making, she gave him considerably more respect than most other students, and Snape was no longer a double-spy dancing attendance on Voldemort and keeping up the appearance of a Death Eater. Those changes, she hoped, would be enough to merit more favorable treatment.
Hermione admitted to herself that one of the most daunting roadblocks, if she were to decide to ask Professor Snape to grant her an apprenticeship, was the thought of how Harry and Ron would react, Ron more so than Harry.
It had been mainly Harry's efforts that had convinced the Aurory and the Wizengamot of Snape's innocence and usefulness to the side of the Light. When she'd questioned Harry about his staunch defense of the professor that he had quite frequently admitted to hating, Harry had shook his head with a smile. "I know it's weird," he had said, "but I just don't reckon it's right for him to have to deal with any more of the same suspicions he's dealt with for the last twenty years. And, besides," he'd added after a moment, "he knew my mum – knew her really well and, well, there aren't that many people who can say that left. I guess I don't think she'd appreciate it if I just stood by while her first friend in the wizarding world got punished, would she?" Hermione had been so terribly proud of Harry at that moment, and had simply enveloped him in a tight embrace, unable to speak past the suspicious tightness in her throat.
But Ron…Even if he, grudgingly, admitted that Snape had been on the right side, Ron refused to think well of their former Professor, insisting that 'once a greasy git, always a greasy git,' and once saying (although an irate Harry and Hermione had instantly forced him to take the statement back) that the world would be a happier place if he'd bled to death in the Shrieking Shack – either during the Final Battle, or when he'd been lured there by Sirius so many years ago. Ron would not take well to Hermione's apprenticeship, if it came about.
It doesn't matter, though, she thought firmly, because one of these foreign Masters is going to accept me, and I'll never have to ask Professor Snape.
Hermione was able to receive her first four rejections with equanimity, given that they constituted just a portion of her potential Masters.
When five more negative answers joined them over the next week, however, she began to be discouraged. Just seven more options, seven more chances to pursue her chosen course of study, without resorting to travel to America or Asia, neither of which appealed greatly to Hermione.
It galled her that only two of the responses she'd received cited what she considered a justifiable reason to deny her – one man from France already had an apprentice, and an elderly witch in Munich did not wish to take on an apprentice, as she was enjoying her retirement. Almost all the rest had used some variant of the different responses that Lupin had rejected – some veiling their mistrust better than others. The last response had been an exemplar of brevity, reading merely: Received your request. Please consider this my rejection. All the best, Geraldine Fortescue-Depaul.
Rejected and dejected, Hermione visited Harry at Grimmauld Place on the Sunday afternoon following Fortescue-Depaul's curt message. Ron was spending the afternoon in London, though Harry was unclear as to what was occupying him, and Lupin was also absent . Harry commiserated with Hermione over her failure to elicit a positive response, berating the wizarding world in general, and Potions Masters in particular, for being so difficult, stubborn, distrustful, distasteful, and generally foolish. Given his sympathy – and the grace of Ron's absence – Hermione tentatively told him about her conversation with Lupin.
"Snape, really? Snape?" asked Harry after such a long moment of gaping at her, trying vainly to form words that she feared she might have accidentally struck him dumb. "But he's – he's horrible. And this is me talking! I know I stood up for him at the trial and everything, Hermione, but that doesn't mean I suddenly think he's going to be nice to you – or anyone."
"Well," Hermione said, telling herself quite firmly that she did not agree, "he seems to have been getting on okay with Remus, hasn't he? And, well, things have changed a bit, and it might be my only choice, really."
"I guess," Harry said doubtfully. "You could always just get an apprenticeship in another subject, though. I mean, Transfiguration ties in with a lot of stuff, doesn't it? Or Charms, and you know how well Flitwick always thought of you…"
"I could do," Hermione agreed. "And I might – if none of the other Masters I've written will accept me and Professor Snape refuses the idea. But this is what I want. I could do the others, but I'd rather hold out hopes for potions…"
"Mental, you are," Harry said fondly, "holding out hope for Snape."
"I may be," she agreed.
"Erm, I'd just wait a bit on telling Ron about this, if I were you," Harry said with a wink, "try to make sure it's absolutely necessary before you tell him."
Hermione nodded her head, smiling, and the evening moved on easily, without another mention of potions or professors or apprenticeships.
Hermione waited two days past the three-week limit she'd imposed on herself, and then the last of her letters had all returned – all with variations of the same answer: "No."
Sighing in defeat, she made her way to Grimmauld Place. Lupin was out again, and Hermione idly wondered how his job hunt was fairing. He seemed to be out of the house a great deal, which she hoped meant that he was finding success.
It was almost time for supper by the time Lupin returned, holding baby Teddy in his arms. He greeted her, passing off the baby as he did so.
"What brings you?"
As if he had to ask.
"I thought I'd ask you how best to approach Professor Snape," Hermione said, "seeing as none of my letters met with the response I'd hoped for."
Remus had the good grace not to say 'I told you so,' but instead started working on the evening meal as Hermione detailed the various responses she'd received.
"I can't say that I'm surprised," he said as she finished her recounting, "but I am sorry. Maybe it's all for the better."
She looked up a little surprised at that, but before she could ask, he added, "You have many friends here, Hermione, and I'm not entirely sure that Ron and Harry are prepared to be bereft of their best friend for the entire duration of your apprenticeship."
Hermione smiled at the man, agreeing whole-heartedly. "I wasn't really thrilled about the prospect of leaving for so long," she admitted.
The talked of other things as Hermione played with Teddy and Remus finished supper. Once their idle talk died down, though, Hermione brought the conversation back around to the looming subject of Professor Snape.
"How can I ask him, Remus?" Hermione asked. As she'd waited with ever-diminishing hope for a positive response, Hermione had come to terms with the idea of apprenticing under Snape. It had never been particularly distasteful to begin with, and now she felt she might even like the idea a little, although she steadfastly refused to feel optimistic.
"In a few days, he'll actually be coming to Grimmauld Place. Wants to take a spin through the library," Lupin said blandly. "I'm sure you'd be able to meet with him then."
Hermione kept quiet about the suspicious fact that just as her three-week waiting period was up, Lupin had coincidentally arranged for Snape to come to Grimmauld Place. She could forgive him a bit of meddling, she decided. And in this case , it did work out to her advantage.
"You should come by for dinner before then," she said at length. "My parents have been asking after you. Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," Lupin agreed.
A/N - Yes, our second main character will be putting in an appearance in the next chapter.
Thank you so much to everyone who has read and subscribed so far! I'd really appreciate reviews - let me know what you think, what you hope, and how you're enjoying things so far. Too slow? Too fast? Too little Snape? (I'll agree to that last one...)
Next chapter should be up no later than mid-week.