AN: Okay, Mrs. Le, that should keep you happy until I finish making lunch!
It was two weeks later when a message arrived from the Minister's office asking her to appear for questioning. She sighed, set aside her job applications, shut up her office, and headed for the lift.
She made her way to the room on the fourth floor and knocked on the door she had been directed to. The door opened and she was immediately blinded by a flash bulb. "I warned you before, Mr. Bozo. If you do not desist, I will have you escorted out of the room," growled the Minister, as Hermione blinked spots out of her eyes.
Around a large table sat Kingsley Shackelbolt, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Septima Vector, three people she didn't know, two people she recognized as proctors for the exams, Pascal Richter, from the school board, and at the end of the table, Snape, Rita Skeeter, and a smirking photographer.
One of the men she didn't know stood up. "Thank you for coming, Miss Granger. I'm Fletcher Miles, with me are Phyllis Pringle and Alden Grublebush." The other two people nodded in turn. "The Minister has asked the Wizengamot to adjudicate this complaint, and so we are here to see if there is any wrong doing. Our job is to either dismiss this matter, or, if there is cause, take it further. Please take a seat."
Hermione took the seat indicated, between McGonagall and the Minister and darted a nervous glance around the room. The Headmistress and her former teachers gave her reassuring nods. Kingsley looked like he had swallowed a toad. Skeeter looked like she was about to watch an execution and had forgotten her popcorn. The members of the Wizengamot looked suitably inscrutable. And Snape… He looked completely blank as he stared at his hands on the table in front of him. He didn't look up at her once.
"Miss Granger," Mr. Miles started. "Mr. Snape has refused to answer any questions, nor do we have the authority to force him to do so at this time. We have heard from your teachers about their opinion of your abilities. We have also spoken with the Proctors and are satisfied that there was no observable wrong doing, and no change in the usual protocols taken with the tests, and that at no time did the tests leave their hands from the moment the students turned them in, to the time they were graded. The only question that remains is the possibility of Magical means to enhance your grades, or perhaps even the possible use of Polyjuice and that it was Severus Snape that actually took the test for you."
Her head snapped up and her mouth dropped open. "That's ridiculous!" she blurted. "Why on earth would he have done something like that? Why would you even think that? That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard!"
"Nevertheless, Miss Granger, it has come to our attention that the only difference in your behavior that your former teachers noticed, was an almost preternatural calm, that we have been informed was uncharacteristic for you under normal testing conditions. Would you care to explain?"
"I-I…" She stared about the room and saw her teachers look down at the table in shame. "I'm older now," she said. She looked at Snape, but he didn't seem aware of her at all. She set her shoulders. "I used to be afraid of people finding me lacking if I didn't prove myself. I'm not really like that anymore. Well, mostly not. I was terrified to take that first test. But Mr. Snape calmed my nerves that morning, and after that it was easy."
"If I may?" asked Rita Skeeter. "After all, I do represent the interest of the public, and this is an informal hearing…" She waited until Mr. Miles consulted with the other two, and then nodded his allowance. "What time did you have to leave your home in London in order to arrive at the school on time that first day?"
"I left my home at seven in the morning and Apparated from an alley down the street."
"So it is safe to assume, if Mr. Snape reassured you, it was because he had spent the night? Tutoring you, perhaps?"
"No!" Hermione spat. She settled when McGonagall bumped her leg with the toe of her shoe. "I'd sent him an owl the night before expressing my doubts about how well I would do, and he sent me a reply in the morning. I received the owl at around half-past five in the morning."
"Isn't that rather early?"
"No, that is when I usually get up."
"So Mr. Snape is aware of your usual waking schedule?" asked Skeeter, with a triumphant gleam in her eye.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the atrocious woman. "While I was revising, I would frequently send him an owl in the morning before I left for work, and again in the evening after I got home. I'm sure he could have easily extrapolated the needed information from my pattern of behavior. You are implying an aspect to my relationship with Mr. Snape that might sell papers for you, but simply does not exist. I assure you, he was nothing more than my mentor, and I am nothing more to him than an irritating, and occasionally amusing, swot."
The teachers at the table chuckled and nodded to each other, making her ears burn.
"And yet," continued Skeeter, "if there was nothing more to this relationship, why did you get a tattoo of some words in Mr. Snape's handwriting? Isn't that a little extreme for a mere student? You can't deny it, even if the location is, shall we say, too delicate to show us. I have a sworn statement from the tattoo artist you and your friends went to. He not only remembered your conversation, but as a former student himself, recognized the handwriting he was asked to duplicate."
Hermione blanched as every head on the room swiveled towards her. She darted her eyes towards Snape and saw open shock on his face. She curled her fists in frustrated anger and felt humiliated tears spring into her eyes.
"You nasty cow," she hissed "It's not like that! That was something personal to me, and I have no intention of explaining it to anyone." Hermione turned and looked at the members of the Wizengamot. "I will not answer anymore questions from this disgusting woman."
Madame Pringle cleared her throat before asking, "Miss Granger, can you explain to us why a student who missed her last year of schooling, and did not return when the other students who missed their opportunity did—who in fact, didn't even begin to study for these tests until early February of this year—would receive eleven Outstandings? Surely you can see that it is suspicious, to say the least?"
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but another voice cut in.
"I can answer that," said Snape. "You have been shown Miss Granger's school records. You have seen the test she took with no preparation at all, that would have brought her three Outstandings, seven Exceeds Expectations, one Acceptable, and one Troll in a subject she dropped in her second year, after eighteen months away from an academic environment. You have been told of how she solved a logic puzzle that was intended to keep full grown adults from accessing a part of the castle in her first year. You have been told how she successfully brewed a seventh-year potion in her second year. You have been told how she was allowed the use of a Time Turner in her third year, so she could continue to take every class available. You have heard how she had been constantly referred to as the Brightest Witch of Her Age throughout her entire school career, and you are fully aware that it was in part through Miss Granger's intelligence, loyalty and determination, that Potter was able to defeat the Dark Lord. It is blindingly obvious to all of us who taught her, that Miss Granger is a genius. Combine her intellect, with her willpower, and add in her competitiveness, and you easily get a student that can master the needed curriculum in less than six months.
"This argument is spurious," he continued. "Every year, home schooled students who never set foot in Hogwarts are allowed to sit their exams, and no one questions their grades. I assure you, my assistance to Miss Granger was minimal. I facilitated her inclusion in this year's exams, and I pointed her in the needed direction when she couldn't find the necessary information. At no time did I teach Miss Granger anything that she didn't already know. I simply affirmed, or negated, her own research. I was a mere academic advisor, and to imply anything more—even in light of her own bizarre concept of permanent reminders—is to shame yourselves and belittle the abilities of a girl who is quite likely the most gifted student we've seen in several generations."
Snape never lifted his head from the table, during his speech. He didn't see how her tears spilled over and ran down her face, or how McGonagall reached over and squeezed her hand and smiled, to add emphasis to his assessment of her abilities, while Vector and Flitwick nodded vigorously beside her. When he was done talking, he simply folded his hands and nodded as well.
The room was silent for a time and then the third member of the Wizengamot spoke.
"It would seem to me, that the easiest way to clear this matter up is to arrange for Miss Granger to take her tests again under more controlled conditions. If she again makes the marks she made before, then she will have proven herself beyond a doubt. I propose we retest next week—after first checking for the presence of Dark Magic, ensuring there is no evidence of Polyjuice, and no contact with anyone at all between now and then. I think we should sequester Miss Granger with her textbooks until the appointed time."
Hermione's blood started to boil as it finally became apparent that all of this was not about her at all, but about Snape. She stood up.
"No," she said quietly. "Mr. Snape was wrong when he said he didn't teach me anything I didn't already know. Do you know what he taught me that no one else could have? That I don't have to prove myself to anyone but myself. That I don't have to do anything I don't want to. He taught me that nothing else matters, as long as I feel I am doing the right thing. I will not take those tests for you again. I know that I took them. I know I earned those grades. My teachers know I did. And my friends know I did. I don't have to prove it to you. I don't have to prove it to anyone else."
She turned and walked toward the door but stopped and turned back. "And another thing. If I had been shagging Severus Snape the whole time I revised for that exam, it would have made no difference in my grade and would be no one's business but our own. I don't give a damn what any of you think. You people make me sick. I'm done with this."
She nodded to the Minister, and to her former teachers, bowed her head to Snape, who was looking at her with a mixture of surprise as well as an unidentified emotion on his face, before she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.
When she returned to her office, she lifted up her stack of job applications, carefully filled out with a copy of her N.E.W.T. results attached to all twenty-seven, and burst into tears.
Severus Snape was passed out at his kitchen table. One arm was curled around an empty bottle of brandy, and the other one dangled towards the floor at his side. Next to his head, a torn bit of newspaper fluttered with each flammable breath. The paper showed a photograph of a dark-hired man leaning in and whispering in a woman's ear, as she slowly turned towards him. Their faces were obscured, but the image conveyed a sensuality that was spellbinding. Even to those who knew it had never happened.
Snape entered the Office of Potion Patent Applications and stopped, looking around at the room. It had been almost three months since he had been here last. He'd decided to come today on the spur of the moment, knowing he'd never do it if he left it to get much more onerous in his mind.
He let the door swing closed behind him with a click that was far too loud in the empty room.
Everything looked like an ode to entropy. Most of the plants that had filled the room before, had died from lack of care. The walls, carpeting and desks were all in a state of Charm Decay—their original colors and textures starting to show through the improvements Miss Granger had implemented. It left one with a feeling of abandonment that he tried to stifle.
On the desk, sat two clipboards and a sign, instructing him to choose the correct one for processing and to leave it on the counter when he left. It seemed the Ministry had finally caught on that anyone could do this job in fifteen minutes at the end of a day, and they hadn't bothered to replace Miss Granger.
He lifted up the proper form and contemplated walking to the cafeteria to fill it out. This room was too depressing. In the end, he decided here was as good as anywhere. At least he wouldn't be stared at like he usually was when he went out on public.
He was about ten minutes into the form—explaining the uses of his Larynx Regenerator—when the door opened again. He looked up at the distraction and froze, before springing to his feet.
"Miss Granger? What are you doing here?"
She stopped short, looking up from the book she'd been reading as she walked in.
"Mr. Snape! Filing a new potion?" Her small smile upon seeing him, quickly faded.
"So it would seem. I asked you a question, Miss Granger. Why are you here?"
She frowned and turned away from him, and it struck him that she looked as faded as the room. His stomach clenched in anger as he saw her make her way to the other side of the counter, set her book down, and tilt her chin up defensively before she met his eyes.
"I think we have established that I work here on several occasions before, and I don't care to be repetitive."
He stormed up to the counter. "Why?" he hissed. "Don't pretend you misunderstand me. Why are you still here?"
He watched a bright spark of fury ignite in her eyes before it, too, faded. She reached down and pulled open an unseen drawer before placing a bundle of parchment, tied with string, on the counter before him.
"What's this?" he asked.
"At last count, this is the fifty-two politely-worded explanations as to why I am considered unqualified, unfit, undesirable, or otherwise inconvenient for employment, which I received before I stopped sending out applications. There are fourteen more that I have yet to hear from." She prodded the bundle with a finger. "You can read them if you like. Some of them are rather amusing."
"No, thank you. I will forgo the honor. I have a similar stack at home." He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair to try and calm his reaction before he made a fool of himself. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So they hung you out to dry after all? What about Minerva?"
"The Board of Governors vetoed her acceptance of my apprenticeship, citing my moral character. The new rules implemented by the Ministry after the tenures of Dumbledore and yourself, have tied her hands quite firmly. Those strings she pulled trying to help are among those letters I have yet to hear a reply to. I suspect they don't want to insult her by refusing to hire me outright."
His stomach felt like it was full of lead, and he poked the stack with his own finger before saying, "I'm very sorry, Miss Granger."
"Don't be. I'm not. I don't regret anything." She waved a hand about the room. "This isn't the end for me. I'm just biding my time. The exchange rate between the Wizarding world and the Muggle one works in my favor. My plan is to horde my salary as much as possible over the next year and then leave this world and start over in the Muggle one. I want to move to Australia. I hear there is a dental practice with two lovely people that might need an office assistant. I happen to know they are suckers for a hard-luck story."
"You're going to leave?" he asked. "What about Potter and Weasley? You would just leave them behind as well?"
"Ron and Harry will always be my friends. They support my decision. I'll still write to them and visit occasionally, nothing will change there."
"You're quitting," he snapped. "Why would you do this?"
She laughed. "I'll show you."
She shocked him when she started to unbutton her robes as she came back around the counter. He quickly backed up several feet before taking two steps closer as she pulled open her robes, revealing a Muggle t-shirt and jeans. She pulled up the shirt a few inches and hooked a thumb into her waistband, tugging it down.
There, on her smooth, white belly, were the words "Then don't…" written in his hand in black ink.
His mouth went dry.
"Why am I doing this? Because I can. There's nothing left for me here but a lifetime of trying to prove myself to people who don't even want to give me a chance. I don't have to. You showed me that."
He lifted a finger to trace the words but snatched his hand back when he realized what he was about to do. He looked up at her, as her words finally filtered past the fact that she was permanently marked with his hand. He smiled. Her eyes widened and he smiled even more. He stepped back and gestured for her to fix her clothing.
"You are a remarkable young woman, Miss Granger. I applaud your reasoning."
"Good. I'm glad." She buttoned up her robes and headed back around the counter. "I've been meaning to speak with you, by the way. I have been going over your patent information." When she saw his scowl, she fluttered a hand at him. "I know, I've been snooping. But you must have a good idea of just how boring it is in here. Anyway, are you aware your patents are coming due for renewal? Some of your earliest, have already lapsed due to inaction, and permanently become public domain. But you have eight patents coming due this year alone." She smirked at him and leaned in closer across the counter. "If you were to fill out the proper forms, not only will you continue to hold the patent for the next twenty years, but you will be able to renegotiate the terms. For instance, if you wanted to switch from lease-free public domain back to private, now is the time to do it. If, at a later date, you chose to switch them back to public domain again you could do that at any time. Interesting, isn't it? Not only would people be forced to realize how much better their lives have been because of you these last twenty years, but you would become an incredibly wealthy man, nearly overnight."
He looked at her with a smirk. "You're a very vindictive person, Granger."
"Just copped on to that? You're looking at the girl who set your robes on fire when she thought you were cursing her friend's broom in her first year."
"That was you? I had no idea."
She gave him a level stare. "No. You really have no idea."
"Miss Granger. If I had wanted the money, I wouldn't have marked them public domain twenty years ago. I intended those potions to be used to help alleviate some of the damage I did with the choices I made in my life."
"Yes, and I see that's worked out so well for you. I won't try to talk you into doing something that goes against your nature. I'm just talking about a slight tug on the traces to let them know just how much power you've had and restrained from using."
"I won't change the status of those potions that are a matter of life and death."
"I wouldn't even suggest it."
"I'd need help filling out the proper forms and dealing with the subsequent contractual terms. I have no patience with that sort of thing."
She reached under the counter and pulled out a thick envelope addressed to him and dropped it on the counter. "Done and done. They just need your signature."
"I would need to organize my own production facility if I was going to take over brewing my potions for the public."
"If you need help, I have free time."
"Not enough." He looked at her and felt his stomach clench at the next words out of his mouth. "I would need to hire an Apprentice. At least for the next year."
Her face flushed and her eyes started to shine.
"I know a genius that you might be interested in considering."
"Indeed. How soon could this genius start?"
"Now?" she squeaked.
"Nonsense, we need to fill out an Apprentice Application and you need to research and design your contract. You might as well let the Ministry pay you to do that while I finish this patent application."
"Alright! I'll go do that right now," she said, dashing towards the door. She stopped with her hand on the doorframe and turned back. "Have I ever told you how marvelous you are?"
"Ad nauseam," he replied.
At exactly nine in the morning the next day, Snape opened the door and was greeted by a dying Fiddler Ficus, a decayed variegated ivy, and the world's ugliest cuckoo clock.
"You must be joking," he said to the plant in his face.
"You offered me a job," replied the plant. "These come with the package. You saved me, now I have to save them."
"Don't make me regret this, Granger."
"You won't. I promise."
He swung the door open wider and she waltzed in past him. From the back, she looked like a walking backpack with frizzy hair and a long, Indian-print skirt.
"What else have you brought?"
"Mostly paperwork. I figured the first order of business is to work on our contract and then figure out what patents you want to snatch back first. I say your improved Veritaserum. It's patent expires in two weeks and re-assuming control won't harm anyone but the Aurors, and they'll be quick to pay up. The old formula was hopelessly flawed. I researched it last night."
"Of course you did. I wonder what the papers would say if they knew you were such a bad influence on me."
She giggled as he closed the door.
What do you think? Will he regret it?