Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for this chapter being so late. It is entirely my fault... I fell behind on sending the chapters out for second-round beta. I'm trying to catch up now, and the Saturday chapter should be out on Sunday.

I will attempt to make up for all the delays by putting up an extra chapter or two for Christmas, if I can manage it. Remember, long and thoughtful feedback makes a lovely and inexpensive holiday gift for the authors you love!

Chapter 9: Hogsmeade Afternoon

Ditching the boys wasn't easy, even in Hogsmeade.

They had, with touching devotion, followed her into the apothecary, the bookshop and even into the small portion of Gladrags devoted to baby garments (where Ron had been quite taken with an orange romper suit with a Cannons emblem on the chest). Eventually, Hermione had to resort to drastic measures.

"I'm not an invalid." Hermione yanked the orange romper suit out of Ron's hands and dropped it disdainfully. "I can do my shopping without you hovering over me every moment!"

Ron gave her a wounded look. "But - "

"I will finish my shopping by myself!" Hermione said, snatching her bag of books out of Harry's hands. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm feeble. I'll meet you in the Three Broomsticks at four, and you can just amuse yourselves until then without hanging all over me like three... three sheepdogs!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny stepped in hastily. "Of course, Hermione," she said placatingly. "You just... uhm... take your time. We'll go to Honeydukes and... things." She dragged the boys away, and if she wasn't muttering something about hormones and letting Hermione have some time to cool down by the time they got to the door, Hermione would be very surprised.

Being pregnant seemed to be useful for more than fainting and throwing up.

She really did have shopping to do - getting measured for new school robes that would allow for her increasing size, for a start. And a couple of sets of everyday robes as well, since she was absolutely sure she was going to have to visit the Burrow at least a few times. But two o'clock saw her slipping into the Three Broomsticks and up to the small upstairs parlour. She knocked on the door, gnawing her lip as she waited for a response.

There was a long pause, and then the door opened. "Hermione. It's good to see you again." He was stiff and formal, but he stepped back to let her into the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

"It's good to see you too, Percy," she said, smiling up at him. "I've missed you."

Percy Weasley nodded uncomfortably, straightening his severely cut robes. "Are you well?" he asked politely.

"Reasonably so." She unfastened her cloak and smiled when he removed it from her shoulders with probably automatic courtesy. "Apart from... I don't know if you'd heard..."

"I am aware that you are currently expecting," Percy said, hanging up her cloak. He didn't seem to know quite what to do with his hands once he let go of it. "Congratulations, Hermione. It must be... difficult, balancing expectant motherhood with your schoolwork."

"It's not too bad so far... of course, things haven't really geared up for the N.E.W.T.s yet," Hermione said, smiling ruefully. "I feel so unprepared. I know you told me that you simply couldn't start preparing too early, for either O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, but what with... everything, last year, I just didn't have a lot of time for revision."

"Of course." Percy fidgeted uncomfortably. "Er... how far along are you?"

"Seventeen weeks. The baby is due in early April, so I'll have time to get back on my feet and start revising before the N.E.W.T.s." Hermione looked down at herself. The bulge hardly showed under her robes, so far, but Madam Pomfrey had warned her that it would only be a few more weeks. "Professor McGonagall has kindly offered me a private room in the visitor's quarters for the end of my pregnancy and after the baby is born."

"That was very... considerate." Percy looked at her stomach, looking even more uncomfortable. "I cannot help but... er... wonder, if Ron has... well, failed to do what he ought to..."

Hermione huffed out a startled laugh. "No, Percy, don't worry. This baby is a Weasley-free production." She patted her stomach gently, and then looked up at him, smiling a bit wistfully. "I really have missed you," she said gently.

Percy looked away. "Who asked you to contact me?" he asked stiffly. "My mother?"

"Nobody." Hermione shook her head when he looked at her dubiously. "Really, nobody. Nobody even knows I did contact you." She looked up at him hopefully. "We used to be friends, at least of a sort. And God knows you're the only person I know who understands how serious exams are."

That got a startled laugh from him. "I... yes, I suppose I am. Ron and... and Harry certainly never did." He sounded uncertain and guilty when he mentioned Harry's name, looking away from her again. "I certainly understand why you wouldn't give up the chance to take your N.E.W.T.s, even... under the circumstances."

"I thought you would." Impulsively, Hermione held out her arms. "And stop being such a great stiff lump and come here."

"I..." He dithered for a moment, and then Hermione was enfolded in thin, awkward arms. He tried to make the hug a brief courtesy, but Hermione was having none of that and she hung on around his waist.

"You're not looking after yourself," she said into his bony shoulder. "You're like me, you get caught up in work and don't remember silly, unimportant things like food."

"I've been busy." Percy patted her back awkwardly. "The upheavals in the Ministry since... well. There's been a lot to do."

"I'm sure there has." Hermione released him, but caught hold of his arm as he drew away. "Percy, feel free to tell me to sod off if it's too nosy, but I really want to know... what happened?"

He stiffened, but was too polite to drag his arm out of her grip. "I'm sure Ron has already told you."

"Ron has given me an extremely biased account that I consider one step above mere hearsay," Hermione said, with a disapproving sniff. "I want to know what really happened."

He nodded slowly, and Hermione knew it had worked. She'd known Percy for years. Yes, he could be a git... all the Weasleys could, actually. If there was ever an All-Britain Git Championship, the winner would undoubtedly have flaming red hair, no matter what Ron said about Professor Snape. But there had to be more to the fight than that. And someone actually offering to listen to Percy was rare enough that she'd been sure he couldn't resist. "All right. I... will you sit down? Have some tea?"

"Very weak, please, with lots of milk." She sat down in the indicated chair, pushing her hair back absently. She really had to do something about that - it was more rampant than ever these days. "Strong tea seems to unsettle my stomach at the moment."

"Of course." He poured the tea and offered her a biscuit, the mechanical movements seeming to soothe him a little. "It was... you know I've always intended to go into the Ministry, and to do well, not just... coast along doing an easy job that I happen to enjoy."

Hermione nodded. "I feel the same way, you know that," she said gently. "I mean, not necessarily about going into the Ministry, but being the best at whatever it is I do. Really showing people what I can do. It's not going to be easy, with a baby, but I'm still determined. I'll just have to work harder, that's all."

"I wouldn't advise the Ministry, for you, not now," Percy said, apparently distracted for a moment from his own story. "Certainly not while the baby is young. Research might be better... you would be more likely to be able to keep the child somewhere close by. Or an apprenticeship in Arithmancy, perhaps."

Hermione nodded. "I'm glad you agree... I've considered both of those, and decided not to bother with the Ministry for at least five years."

"Good. Careful planning, that's the thing." Percy broke off a piece of his biscuit, crumbling it absently into his saucer. "You know what happened, with Mr Crouch... He had ordered me so sternly not to allow anyone to suspect he was ill - I thought I understood why. He was a proud man. He didn't want anyone to think he couldn't handle the job anymore. So I covered for him as much as I could."

Hermione nodded. It made perfect sense, and was probably what she would have done herself. She understood the fear of being seen to fail. "Under most circumstances, you would have been doing exactly what he wanted," she said softly. "You had no way of knowing he was under Imperio."

"No, I didn't. You wouldn't have thought that from the way my family criticized my efforts," Percy said, sounding slightly sulky. Then he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb. "After that debacle, I was afraid I'd wind up just... going through the motions, for months or years to come. I knew I could make a success of myself, if I just had a chance. And then, finally, I had one. A really good one. I thought..." He trailed off, looking away.

Hermione sipped her tea and ventured an informed guess. "You thought your father would be proud of you."

Percy glanced at her sharply, then laughed. It was a sharp, humourless sound. "Yes, I suppose I did. Foolish of me, really. I had hoped that joining him at the Ministry would at least equal the achievements of breaking curses for Gringotts or footling about with dragons somewhere off in the middle of nowhere. Not as cool, of course. But still worth something." He shook his head. "My father assumed... probably quite correctly... that I was simply a useful spy for the Ministry. That they didn't want me, they just wanted my family connections."

"And you were hurt." He gave her another startled look, and she snorted. "Oh, Percy... of course you were hurt! You wanted him to be proud of you and instead he belittled your achievement!" She reached out to give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Anyone would have been upset. It was a very thoughtless thing to say."

"I... have no idea how you knew that," he said slowly, his voice tight. "But... yes, I suppose I was hurt. And angry. To belittle me, after he'd worked so hard at not achieving anything for so many years..." He looked into the parlour's small fireplace. "And he didn't, you know," he said bitterly. "We needed money, but he just couldn't bestir himself to make any sort of effort."

Hermione nodded, and kept her peace. Percy and his father were utterly different, anyone could see that after watching them together for five minutes. As much as she liked Mr Weasley, she didn't understand his lack of drive either. She would never loiter about in some dead-end position herself, no matter how amusing it was, and let her baby go without new books and robes that fitted properly.

"And there was all that talk about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rising from the dead, and Harry Potter claiming he'd seen it..." Percy tugged his hand through his red curls, making an exasperated noise. "Yes, I know it turned out to be true, but... it sounded so implausible, Hermione! People rising from the dead! Oh, I believed Harry had seen something that had frightened him, but I thought he was just... just doing what Ron always does, exaggerating to get attention..."

"Harry doesn't do that," she said gently. "Ron does, I know, and I don't blame you for thinking it would be the same, but..."

"But I was wrong. I know that now." Percy sighed, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes wearily. "It was just so... implausible. And everyone else in my family was just blindly trotting along, trusting Albus Dumbledore to protect them from harm." His mouth twisted. "You know, I might have believed it if it had come from someone else, but Dumbledore..."

Hermione blinked. "You didn't trust Professor Dumbledore?" she asked blankly. "But... why?"

Percy set his teacup in its saucer with a click, and set the saucer down on the small table beside his chair with a decisive thunk. "Why would I trust him?" he demanded. "Oh, I won't deny that I benefited from his blatant favouritism but don't think I didn't see it for what it was! A Gryffindor as Headmaster, a Gryffindor for his second in command, a Gryffindor Head Boy, Dumbledore finding ways to slip extra points to his own House whenever he could; and to Harry Potter in particular, oh, nothing was ever too good for him! Of course Dumbledore would believe anything he said, his judgement was hopelessly skewed where his little Pride of Gryffindor was concerned!"

Hermione stared at him in shock. "But..." she said weakly. She'd been prepared to listen to Percy's version of events. She'd been sure that he'd had some sort of justification for what he'd done, at least in his own mind. But this...

"Don't tell me he couldn't have kept you away from that Philosopher's Stone thing if he'd wanted to," Percy growled, rising to his feet and starting to pace. "Oh, you three should never have gone near it, no matter what you thought you knew... but you were children! First-years! And he let you risk it... oh, I heard Ron and Harry discussing it. I know Harry believed that Dumbledore wanted to give him a chance to face down his own personal demon... at eleven! A little, helpless, squeaky child of eleven! With only my idiot brother and a gifted but Muggle-born girl who didn't have the first clue about what to expect!"

Hermione stared at him, her lip trembling a little. "It... wasn't like that, he didn't know..."

"And he encouraged it!" Percy continued, still pacing. "He let Harry Potter go on acting alone... if he was such a great wizard, if he was so all-knowing, why didn't he realise what was wrong with Ginny? Why didn't he help? Why did he leave it to Harry and Ron again... without you, this time!" He swung around, having reached the wall, and gave her an oddly wrathful, affectionate look. "I checked on you, you know, when I went up to visit Penny. I knew Ron probably wouldn't bother."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"You're welcome. I always liked you... you understood how important learning was. God knows I'd have traded Ron for you any day, he was almost as big a disgrace as the twins." Percy resumed his pacing, the words boiling out of him. How long had he wanted to say this to someone? "Harry was so damned proud, after fighting that basilisk. Dumbledore encouraged him, somehow, I know it. Told him how brave he was, probably, how clever, a credit to his House... And it went on!

"In your third year, he actually dragged you and Ron out to face Dementors and convicts and werewolves and Merlin knows what else... I saw you brought in. Ron's leg was broken, and Harry was shaking like a leaf, and you were so deep in shock that you were paler than Nearly Headless Nick. And he damn well twinkled at you, for being such clever children, and he wouldn't let me stay with my own brother! Sent me off to bed like a good boy!"

He struck out in a new direction, so Hermione had to rise from her chair to keep watching him. "And in your fourth year! He could have been more careful, put the Cup in his office or somewhere else where it would be watched, but no, he left it lying around where anyone could meddle with it! Guarded by an Age Line! He let you and Ron be taken down under the lake - the spells could have gone wrong somehow, or the merpeople could have arranged a little 'accident' if the contestants angered them, it was so dangerous..."

His face was bright pink as he turned and pointed accusingly at Hermione. "You give me one good reason, just one, why I should have trusted Albus Dumbledore! Why I should have for one minute believed that he wasn't pandering to Harry Potter's delusions of warriorhood the way he always has!"

"I..." Hermione's lip quivered again. She'd never thought about it like that, not ever, and suddenly Professor Snape sneered at her again in the back of her mind, asking 'Is that why you deliberately avoid applying creativity in your work?'. She'd accepted what everyone said about Professor Dumbledore's wisdom and judgement without questioning it, even when it had put Harry's life or her own at risk. "I didn't think..."

Percy drew in a breath and then huffed it out, the pink fading from his face. "I'm sorry for shouting at you," he said penitently, offering her a handkerchief. "Please don't cry. I'm not angry at you... you were only a child for a lot of it, you were supposed to trust him..."

Hermione wiped her eyes. "I just... everyone seemed so sure that he would save us," she said in a small voice.

"I wasn't." Percy snorted. "And I was right about that, wasn't I? I may have been wrong about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but not about Dumbledore. He swore Harry to secrecy, set him up to have to hunt down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named alone except for you and Ron... and what about you two? Didn't bloody care what happened to you, did he, without all that special protection Harry seemed to have."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I... how did you know that part? That he swore Harry to secrecy?"

Percy fidgeted uncomfortably. "If you must know, I had Nymphadora Tonks let me know," he muttered. "She knows about... difficult family situations. She used to slip me a quick word on the quiet about how everyone was doing. Once it was all over, she sent me an owl to reassure me that everyone had survived, and tell me a bit about what had been happening."

"Oh." Hermione sniffed, and applied the hanky again. "That was nice of her."

"She is nice. Bit mad, of course, all the Blacks are." Percy shook his head. "But do you see why I did what I did?" he asked, almost pleadingly. "I didn't trust Dumbledore, and I was so angry with Dad, that... it all just sort of burst out, and then I walked out."

Hermione nodded. "And you wouldn't go home."

"Go crawling back?" Percy scowled, crossing his arms. "I have my pride, Hermione. They've all made it damned clear that they're glad to be shot of me... except Mum." As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice, and Hermione frowned. What must it be like, knowing your own family didn't want you? "Well, I don't need them either. I'm certainly not going to beg them to take me back."

Hermione went over and hugged him again, and he hugged back less awkwardly this time. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I hoped... I don't know, that I'd be able to help. But I can't blame you for not wanting to... to humble yourself when they're all trying so hard to show they don't want you."

"It's all right," he said, giving her back a gentle pat. "It's probably for the best, anyway. I never did get along well with any of them... except maybe Ginny," he added, a bit wistfully. "How is she?"

"Managing Harry to within an inch of his life," Hermione said, smiling a little. "He adores it. And she's good for him... she's got sense, even if he doesn't."

Percy leaned back, his eyebrows going up. "Hermione Granger, is that a criticism of Harry Potter? Don't you know that's blasphemy?"

Hermione laughed and sniffed again. "Percy, I love Harry, I really do. He's been like a brother to me for years, and I'd willingly walk into fire for his sake. But I do know him. He's thoughtless and socially inept and he's got no common sense - apparently the room in his head was needed for the extra reserves of bad temper. I love him, but I've never been blind to his faults. Neither is Ginny."

"Well. That's something." Percy sighed and shrugged. "I... thank you, Hermione. For contacting me, and at least letting me tell my side of the story for once, even if there's nothing you can really do to help my... family situation."

"If there is anything I can do, tell me," Hermione said softly. "I'm your friend, anyway, whether you're getting along with them or not." She handed back his handkerchief. "Are you still seeing Penny, by the way?"

"Yes." Percy smiled suddenly, a small but genuine smile. "We're... er... planning to get married. We haven't set a date, yet, but we got engaged last month."

"Good. I'm glad you're happy."

"Thank you." He tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. "I... forgive me, Hermione, I know it's a personal question, but..." He gave her a worried look, eyes dipping down to her stomach again. "Having a baby alone... well, it's going to be awfully hard, and there is a certain stigma involved... there's no chance that the father could be convinced to do the right thing, is there?"

"I don't think so. And I don't... feel as if he hasn't done the right thing. He has his reasons." Hermione bit her lip. Percy's honest, prissy concern seemed to draw the words out of her. "He doesn't... care for me. I knew that. But I wanted him to, and after the battle... well. I was stupid."

"Oh. Oh, I see." Percy nodded, and he tucked his hand under her elbow for a moment in a silent offer of support. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I know that must be painful. Is there anything I can do?"

Hermione managed a weak smile. "Invite me to the wedding," she said, wiping her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. "I'll sneak out if I have to - ditching Ron and Ginny isn't too difficult."

"I'll see what I can do." He smiled, and offered her the hanky again. "Here. I think you need it more than I do."

She was quiet at the Halloween feast. Severus tried not to watch her, tried not to worry that the Hogsmeade visit had tired her too much. She looked pale, and she didn't join in the chatter of her friends. Did they even notice the tiny signs of internal conflict? The way she kept nibbling on her lower lip, the way she systematically destroyed her food rather than actually eating it, the way her fingertips drummed on the table?

He dragged his eyes away from her and focused on his dinner, listening absently to the conversation between the past and present Heads of Gryffindor House. "Given the circumstances, is it wise to inquire?" Aurora was saying softly, a slight frown marring her usually placid face.

"That rule is in place for a reason," Minerva said firmly. He glanced sidelong at her... she looked upset. "No student is permitted to meet privately with anyone, student or not, in either the Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head. She went up to a private room with someone - Rosmerta doesn't give names, under these circumstances, but it was a male person who is not a student and they were there for over an hour. As her Head of House, you must handle the matter as you see fit... but the matter must be handled, Aurora. I do not want a precedent set here."

"Very well." Aurora sighed. "I will have the girl come to my office after dinner, and I will ask her what she did and why. I won't press her for his name, if she was meeting the baby's father, but I'll explain the rule and impose some sort of punishment."

Hermione Granger. The girl had met a man at the Three Broomsticks, had spent over an hour with him in a private room. He pushed his plate away and reached for his wine, hand shaking. The girl had certainly duped him, with her wide eyes and her apparent guilt... after all, who else would she be meeting?

It certainly hadn't been him. Perhaps he should make some suggestions as to suitable punishment for such whorish behaviour.

Professor Sinistra had made a lot of changes to Professor McGonagall's office. Instead of being full of tartan and old books and paperwork, the room was draped with subtle brocades in black and silver and midnight blue, the furniture spartanly plain but perfectly proportioned and a pleasure to look at. It was a lovely room, if a bit too bare for Hermione's tastes, but she would have enjoyed looking at it more if she'd known why she was there. "Er... Professor Sinistra? Why did you want to see me?"

Professor Sinistra looked ill-at-ease, picking up and fiddling with a smooth stone that had been on her desk. "The Headmistress has asked me to handle this, as your Head of House," she said, a little abruptly. "She received a note from Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks. This afternoon you spent nearly two hours in a private room with a man who Madam Rosmerta did not name. You know that students are not permitted to conduct... meetings at the Three Broomsticks. I would like very much to hear your explanation."

Hermione blinked. "It wasn't a room," she said, blushing a bit. "I mean, not a... it was just the upstairs parlour!"

"Even so, the room was hired and the door was locked. For the purposes of the rule, it counts." Professor Sinistra sighed. "I won't press you for the man's name, if you have a good reason not to - "

"Percy Weasley," Hermione said promptly.

Professor Sinistra blinked at her. "Percy Weasley?"

Hermione nodded. "I don't know if you've heard, but he's been estranged from his family for more than two years now," she explained. "He and I have always gotten along well, and I arranged to meet him hoping that I could convince him to let bygones be bygones. We only met privately because if Ron or Ginny Weasley saw him they'd explode... or at least be very rude."

"Oh." Professor Sinistra looked a little floored. "That was... well, perhaps not wise, but certainly a kind thought."

Hermione stifled a little grin. Hermione Granger and Percy Weasley - two generations of Gryffindor Brain. If Professor Sinistra could imagine the two of them getting up to anything even remotely naughty in Madam Rosmerta's upstairs parlour, she had a dirtier mind than Lavender Brown. Still, it wouldn't do to laugh... she was new at being a Head of House, and Hermione didn't want to put her off her stride during her first Official Chastising. "It didn't really work... he's still angry, and for some rather good reasons. Peace overtures will have to come from the others, I think."

"I see. I had heard about the family conflict, although I don't know any details." Professor Sinistra set down the stone, seeming to settle back into her habitual serenity. "You did, however, violate a school rule, even though it was for a valid and innocent reason."

Hermione nodded. "We would never have met in one of the actual sleeping rooms, of course," she said earnestly. "It didn't occur to either of us that the parlour would count. But I quite understand that rules are rules, and I am sorry."

"Of course, Miss Granger. And I do understand." Professor Sinistra inclined her head. "You will, however, receive a detention, to be served with me." She smiled suddenly, a sleepy, amused smile. "Wherein I will cruelly and gratuitously force you to assist me in marking first-year work. I assure you, it will be painful."

Hermione blinked and then laughed. "I imagine it will be!" she agreed, remembering Harry and Ron's pitiful attempts at filling out charts of stars and planets in their first year. "But I'll be happy to help. Thank you, Professor."

"Then you will join me here after dinner tomorrow," Professor Sinistra said, nodding in satisfaction. "I'm sure you can come up with an excuse for your friends."

"I'll think of something," Hermione agreed, standing up. "Goodnight, Professor, and thank you again."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger. Pleasant dreams."

Hermione slipped out of the office, letting out a little sigh of relief. She would have to come up with something to explain going to Professor Sinistra's office two nights in a row... a talk about Her Future, perhaps, or a discussion of how she planned to handle her studies when the baby was born. Safe, innocuous... they wouldn't arouse any suspicion in the others.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger." The grim voice came from her left, and she turned in surprise to see Professor Snape glaring at her. "For blatant unrepentance for your breach of school rules."

The unfairness of it made her fists clench helplessly. How did he even know? "I'm not unrepentant!" she said indignantly. "And you said you wouldn't take any - "

She stopped as he glanced sharply past her at the nearest portrait, which was listening avidly. "I imagine you would prefer that your day's activities did not become common knowledge," he bit out. "If you would, Miss Granger." He waved her through a door that opened onto a narrow stairwell leading to Gryffindor Tower's roof. Narrow, uncomfortable... but there were no portraits to listen in, and for once she wouldn't be the one looking up at him - if she stayed a few steps ahead, she'd actually be looking down.

Hermione went up six steps and then turned, folding her arms and turning to meet his eyes. "Professor Snape, I have no idea why you're so angry, but - "

"I am not angry," he said scathingly, slamming the door behind him and glaring up at her. "I am disgusted. You were very convincing when you visited my office before the beginning of term, Miss Granger, but carrying on with an unidentified man in a private room in a pub on your very first day outside the school gives me serious cause to doubt your claims!"

"I wasn't carrying on with anyone!" Hermione's arms slid out of their defiant fold, her fingers knotting nervously. "I met Percy Weasley for tea! That was all!"

That startled him, and a little of his inexplicable fury seemed to fade. "Percy Weasley?"

"Yes, Percy Weasley. With whom, I assure you, I have never carried on, and he'd probably faint with horror if I suggested it." Hermione huffed out an annoyed breath, wondering what about this ludicrous mess had made him so angry. "He just didn't want Ron or Ginny to see him, so we had tea in the upstairs parlour."

"Why?" he asked, moving up a step or two, until their eyes were on a level. "Why meet with Percy Weasley?" He sneered at her. "Trying to engineer a family reunion?"

Hermione flushed. "Yes, actually. I've always gotten along well with Percy, and I hate the thought of him being all alone," she said defensively. "It didn't work, but he at least got to tell me his side of what happened."

Snape snorted. "Which I'm sure eased his mind enormously," he said, but some of the venom was gone from his tone. "Percy Weasley is better off without that pack of chattering, sentimental idiots hindering him."

"I think you might be right," she admitted, and he gave her a startled look. "Not about the Weasleys being chattering, sentimental idiots, but about Percy. I never realised how... uncomfortable he was with his family. He just doesn't understand them, and they don't understand him."

"No, they don't," he agreed. He seemed... off-balance, and she wondered if that would happen every time she agreed with him instead of responding angrily to his deliberate provocation. "I suppose it is too much to hope that you have finally learned not to meddle in the affairs of others."

"Much too much," she agreed, smiling brightly at him, and was rewarded with the slightest hint of a puzzled frown. "But any apologies won't be coming from Percy's side, I know that." Her smile faded, as she remembered why. "He gave me a lot to think about."

"Indeed?" That single sardonic eyebrow rose. "Did he assist you in planning your study-and-review schedule for your N.E.W.T.s?"

"No," Hermione said slowly. "He told me why he didn't trust Professor Dumbledore. He was... convincing."

"Really." It wasn't a question. The inexplicable fury was gone now, and he was watching her intently. "An odd time to begin questioning your loyalty to our former Headmaster, Miss Granger, months after his death."

"It is, isn't it?" She frowned, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. "But you were right. I don't... question things enough. I believe what I'm told, if it's by someone I think I should trust. It never occurred to me to question him, before."

"You should always question, Miss Granger," he said, his eyes intent and his face expressionless. "Especially those who seek to command you or control you."

"I should." She nodded, her hand automatically going to the front of her robes to touch the growing bulge that would all too soon be a separate person, entirely dependent on her. "I still have nightmares about that chess game, you know," she added quietly, meeting his eyes. "I wasn't afraid of the Devil's Snare, or the flying keys, or the troll, or even Fluffy really - I knew how to handle them. And I liked the logic-puzzle. It was a challenge, but one I could understand. But I've never been any good at chess, no matter how hard I try to learn. Those chessmen are still one of the most terrifying things I've ever faced. And Professor Dumbledore let us go down to face them alone."

"He hardly let you, Miss Granger," he said dryly. "As I recall, you were warned repeatedly to stay away from that corridor, let alone the Philosopher's Stone. If you had notified a teacher - "

"They wouldn't have believed us," she said, and his eyes flickered slightly in acknowledgement. "Harry always believed that Professor Dumbledore... let him take his chance. Set it up so he could. And it worked - the Philosopher's Stone was safe, and Professor Quirrell died, and we bought three more years. But I still have the nightmares."

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded briefly. "As do we all, Miss Granger. You should return to your common room." Without waiting for a response, he opened the door behind him and strode through it and down the hall.

She didn't mean to call after him, but she found herself doing so anyway. "Professor Snape?"

He stopped and turned, a little to her surprise. A year or two ago, she thought he would probably have ignored her. "What is it, Miss Granger?" he asked impatiently.

"Thank you," Hermione said, choosing her words carefully, mindful of the portraits listening curiously. "For finally managing to hammer into my head the need to... question."

He nodded and stalked away without another word.

Hermione went the other way, to where the Fat Lady was watching with interest. "Cotton wool."

"Hmph." The Fat Lady swung herself open, giving Hermione a disapproving look. She still hadn't softened on the idea of single-motherhood.

Hermione climbed through the hole, feeling suddenly very tired. It didn't help that as soon as she was into the common room, she was pounced on by Ron and dragged over to the others. "Hermione, where've you been? What happened?"

"Professor Sinistra wanted to make an appointment to talk about my plans for coping with the baby - I'm going tomorrow after dinner." Telling them that Professor Snape had taken ten points away would distract them immediately, but she found that she didn't want to. "She's still awfully new at this Head of House thing, I think she wants to practice on me a bit."

They accepted that quickly enough, and talk turned to homework and Hogsmeade. Hermione kept up her part in the conversation, but in the back of her mind the image of a pair of intent black eyes and an almost approving nod would not fade.

She had done it again. Taken his assumptions and whisked them upside-down with a few words.

He'd been so angry when he thought she'd conducted a blatant assignation at the first opportunity... angry with her for behaving so cheaply, and at himself for believing her in the first place; for merely taking her word for her child's paternity. He hadn't thought there was any excuse she could make, not this time.

And then Hermione had turned those bright, outraged eyes up to his, and he hadn't even needed to cast Legilimens... her offended innocence had been visible, almost tangible. She was absolutely unshielded, and that was a problem, but it did make reading her easy. Tea with Percy Weasley. Of all the stupid, interfering, good-intentioned things.

When she'd folded her arms it had pulled her robes tight against her... She was showing now, even if the voluminous student robes concealed it. He'd looked up at her and seen the soft swell outlined in black wool, and at the time it had only made him angrier. Now the image lingered in his mind, making his emotions swirl and tangle restlessly, until he couldn't be sure how he felt about it.

But what she'd said about Dumbledore, that had made him suddenly, fiercely proud. Finally that extraordinary mind was breaking free of its self-imposed limitations. She was starting to question, to really think.

Severus blinked, finding himself standing before the door to his office. He didn't even remember getting down here, he had been so absorbed in his thoughts of her. Frowning, he pushed her deliberately out of his mind as he passed through the door. Taking an interest in the girl was one thing - after all, there was the child to consider.

Letting her absorb him was something else. A mistake. He must be more careful.

And remember to call her Miss Granger, even in his thoughts, lest one day his tongue slip and betray him.

Hermione knew she'd left it too late when she saw Parvati and Lavender going up to bed. Usually she tried to be upstairs and in bed before they came up... it kept the snide remarks to a minimum.

She gave it another half-hour, hoping that they'd return the favour. No such good fortune, however... when she went in, Parvati was brushing Lavender's hair, the two of them gossiping quietly. Hermione hurried through her night-time rituals as fast as possible, but it didn't work... once she was in her nightgown, Lavender gave her a long, assessing look. "You're really starting to show," she said, in her faux sweet voice. "In a few more weeks, it's going to be obvious that you're pregnant, not just... you know... putting on a few extra pounds."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Yes, isn't that nice?" she said with equal sweetness. "Of course, the student robes do cover a multitude of sins, don't they? A few extra pounds here or there..." She gave Lavender's hips a pointed look.

Lavender glared. Parvati, wisely, had opted to hop into bed and feign sleep as soon as the bitching started. "So... I got a letter from my sister today," she said casually. "Rose is working in the Ministry, now."

"How lovely for Rose," Hermione said, digging out clean underwear for tomorrow. "So what, exactly, was in the letter that you think is going to interest me?"

Lavender huffed a bit. "Well, she's working with a new girl called Cynthia. Cynthia Bunworth," she said, not bothering to sound sweet now. "She said that Cynthia and Ron had... er... a bit of a thing, while you two were dating. She only told me, of course, so she could tell me how glad she was that I didn't get betrayed like that."

Hermione snorted. "Cynthia was only one of several," she said coolly. "Ron is sweet, but he can't keep his pants on to save his life. I'd assumed you knew that."

"I most certainly did not!" Lavender glared indignantly at Hermione, and then looked pointedly at her stomach. "I'm not that sort of girl, thank you."

"Really? You spent all that time dating him and you didn't even have the benefit of the only area of boyfriend-behaviour he's really good at?" It was funny... she'd never really held Cynthia and the others against Ron. It had only happened whenever they'd had a potential-break-up fight and he hadn't been sure where they stood; he'd always confessed immediately, and in general it had all been very honest and above-board. But she still hadn't entirely forgiven him for the thing with Lavender. That had been hurtful. To Lavender as well as Hermione herself.

"I've always believed in waiting until I find someone I'm ready to spend the rest of my life with," Lavender said, climbing into bed with a deeply offended air.

"Well, that's stupid," Hermione said, climbing into her bed and arranging her pillows. Soon she was going to need one to rest her stomach on if she wanted to sleep properly.

"Stupid?"

Parvati sat up. "It's not stupid," she said reproachfully. "Why would you... well..." A bit belatedly she seemed to realise that that wasn't a tactful thing to say to the pregnant girl and trailed off awkwardly.

"I wouldn't buy a wand without waving it." Hermione sniffed disdainfully. "I certainly wouldn't commit to a man without doing the same. What if I wound up married to someone who was really dreadful in bed?"

Parvati's eyes went round with shock, and Lavender made a huffy noise, pulling her blankets around her ears and ignoring them. Hermione grinned, pulling the curtains closed around her bed and lying back. That had been funny, even if was probably going to backfire. Hinting at vast experience was only going to fuel the Hermione-Is-A-Slut rumours, which Lavender was probably behind. And it wasn't true... a half-dozen times with Ron and once with Severus Snape certainly didn't make her a woman of the world. A mother, yes, but not a woman of the world.

She heard a spiteful whisper from the direction of Lavender's bed. She couldn't make it all out, but the word 'married' was clear. Probably a nasty comment to the effect that Hermione would never achieve that particular state. And, of course, as a seventeen-year-old virgin with a taste for romance novels, Lavender was a real expert on the subject of mature, adult relationships.

Hermione thumped her pillow, curling up on her side. Anyway, so what if she didn't? There were more important things in life than dressing up like a doily and throwing an expensive party for people you didn't like much - or the wizarding equivalent, which was at least a bit more dignified if Bill and Fleur's wedding was anything to go by. Hermione had never particularly wanted to get married... probably unlike Lavender, who had almost certainly had her dream wedding planned out by the time she was six.

Hermione had no delusions about weddings being a necessary part of Living Happily Ever After. And she certainly had no intention of doing something as stupid as trying to find a father-substitute for the baby. She knew some women did that, and the notion was apalling. Just wanting a male figure in her child's life was a terrible reason to get into a relationship. Anyway, she had Harry and Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys; the baby wouldn't lack for male role-models. They might be of a rather low role-model calibre... especially the twins... but they were male and liked children. That would do at least for a while. (And Percy wasn't half bad, really, example-wise)

"Of course, if I'd been as morally upright and mature and responsible as this seventeen weeks ago, you wouldn't be here," she whispered, touching her stomach gently. "I suppose I'm closing the barn door after the horse is gone again. But I'm going to learn from the experience. I'm going to be as mature and responsible and moral as I can, from now on, to set you a good example. And I'm glad I have you, even if I didn't go about it very well."