Author's Note
Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!
I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.
Ch 2: Binding
The sensation of being pressed through a narrow straw ended as abruptly as it began. Hermione blinked, stumbling a step as her ears popped painfully.
"Come," Professor Snape commanded in a clipped voice, giving no hint to what he was thinking as he removed the mask he'd dorned for the revel. His typically lank, ebony hair was sweaty and mussed from the hood. Such an informal appearance was at odds from the usual image she had of him dominating a Potions or Defense classroom.
Strange that it would be such a minor detail that she fixated on after all the other events he'd been a part of that evening. Absently, Hermione deduced that she must be experiencing some sort of shock. That was the black, still abyss surrounding her. It was only logical given her ordeal.
"Miss Granger," he prompted when she didn't move swiftly enough for his liking.
She was about to ask where, when she recognized the Hogwarts castle gates looming before her, the twisting wrought iron forming a tall and imposing barrier to protect the grounds and the students within. Safety. Hogwarts represented safety.
The enigmatic, dark man leveled her with a scathing glare then began stalking forward, apparently deciding she'd follow and that he should be grateful for her sudden, atypical muteness. Better than a barrage of questions, no doubt.
Hermione took a deep breath, working her jaw to relieve the changing pressure in her ears, before she proceeded to follow him.
He gave her a cursory glance as they trudged towards the main doors. "Cover yourself," he demanded sharply. "No wonder they acted like you were a damn Slytherin gift to be unwrapped," he grumbled under his breath, but she heard every word.
Hermione glanced down at herself, and immediately understood what he meant. Between her steel grey dress and emerald green bra that Crabbe had exposed earlier, she was a walking advertisement for the snake house. "It's more grey than silver," she idly mused.
The fact that one side of her chest was exposed hardly registered. It wasn't as though her professor hadn't caught sight of her lace clad breast at least a dozen times over the course of the last hour. And what was that in the face of the rest of the events that had taken place. Her mother was dead. Surely everything else paled in comparison to -
Professor Snape turned so quickly that she stumbled back a step, then another as she took in his incredulous expression. Hastily, she tried to tuck the torn strap of her dress into the side of her bra, but it fell forward, unwilling to stay put.
The dark look on his face turned blacker still, and she quickly reminded, "My wand is gone."
"Reparo," he muttered, closing his eyes before resuming his forward progress.
"Are we going to see the Headmaster?" she asked dully, unable to dredge up any real emotion.
Numbness buffered her, and it was a welcome sensation - the lack of feeling. Calm. Muffling and suppressing the deep raging of her soul. She had no wish to properly register the devastating loss she'd already suffered. There'd be time enough later to think on it. It wasn't as though her mum would be any less gone in the morning.
"If he is here, yes," Professor Snape ground out, pressing his lips firmly together. Hermione realized it was a distinct possibility that he might not be, given the amount of meals he'd been absent from fall term. Then with a fair amount of self-loathing, he muttered, "I must explain myself to him."
"You saved me tonight," Hermione reminded him, painfully aware of what would have happened to her if he'd not been there to intervene. Lucius Malfoy's savage demonstration had seen to that.
Then there had been the threat of Greyback. The stories Remus had shared with her of what he liked to do to his victims had given her nightmares for weeks over the summer before Harry arrived at the Burrow. She couldn't imagine a worse fate than that.
"Do not pretend I behaved honorably," he denied, his words practically a growl. His already brisk pace kicked up a notch due to his irritation. "I -"
"You -"
"Do you not understand what's happened here tonight?" he asked stiffly, flexing the fingers of the hand he'd cut and pressed to her own bleeding palm.
Just thinking of it caused the warmth she'd felt earlier to flare in her belly. It was almost nice, like fluttering wings. From superior to trembling of her soul. The violet quaking set to shake her apart at the seams. The impenetrable shield -
"Well?" he pressed, balling his fist again. She took his action to indicate that he was referring to the spell cast upon them and not the revel itself. Not her mum.
"No, Sir," she admitted, though it pained her to do so. She hated not having the answer to a question, hated that as a Muggle-born, she was forever at a disadvantage when it came to magical knowledge for the simple fact that she'd had eleven years less exposure to the information others took for granted. There were days she felt sure that she'd never catch up. "I'm afraid I don't, not fully."
"Is your Latin really that abysmal?" he asked dryly, opening the front door to the castle, and standing aside to let her pass before him. It was unexpectedly galant of him.
The entrance hall was silent at that time of night. The few remaining students who had stayed for Christmas had all retired to their respective common rooms already. The numerous decorations caught her attention, reminding her of the ones she'd seen in the shops a few hours before. Yet these were untarnished, so full of promise and wonder.
Hermione gasped as a crack formed in her emotionless shield, allowing a dagger to slip through and slice a curling ribbon across her heart. Blood welled in her chest, an ache so deep she nearly couldn't shut it out once the pain began seeping in.
Somehow she managed, clinging to the question posed to her instead. She'd always preferred facts. Found comfort in their reliability, and the confidence knowledge provided her with. Dissecting the spell was much easier. Significantly less excruciating at any rate.
"Repeating... repeating desire?" Her mind grasped the gist of the spell, but not the specifics. Something to do with sex, no doubt. Especially given Lucius's proclivities that evening. "But... but - oh!" she gasped, realizing they'd exchanged blood. Doing so would have acted as a powerful binding agent linking the spell specifically to the pair of them.
"I see your wits have finally returned. It will be a relief to Albus to know they weren't addled beyond repair," he stated drolly. The quick retort was said so blandly that she almost smiled at the unexpected dry humor, but so she was too caught up in processing the curse.
"What sort of Dark Curse is it?" she asked, never having heard the like, and flummoxed as far as uses went.
"That's the thing, Miss Granger… it's not a Dark Curse at all," he said carefully, twin splotches of red marring his sallow complexion.
"I still don't completely understand, Sir," Hermione found herself admitting. If it wasn't a Dark Curse, then why was it used at Death Eater revel, and why had Professor Snape and Malfoy been so appalled and averse to its use? Surely it was easily remedied.
"The charm has rather fallen out of favor in recent years. The last few decades to be precise. Around the same time that old men stopped marrying young girls," he stated flatly. "It used to be a regular part of the binding ceremony when couples were married, though I'm sure some are still asinine enough to use it today as some sort of thrill."
She'd never seen a wizarding wedding, but had heard from Bill that a number of spells were cast as part of the process. He'd been discussing his upcoming nuptials with Fleur and the spells they planned to include when she'd stayed at the Burrow over the summer.
Hogwarts didn't have any books on the subject. Probably to keep ridiculous, hormonal teens from doing something irreversible that they'd no doubt later regret considering divorce was only a Muggle practice and not possible for wizards and witches thanks to the magic involved. An image of Ron eating Lavender's face sprang to mind at the thought.
"But what does it do exactly?" she asked, curious despite herself and always eager to learn. "The effects, I mean. How does the spell work? What is the counter-charm?"
"Nosebleed Nougat," he announced suddenly, the stone gargoyle standing sentry to the Headmaster's office leapt aside for them. Hermione hadn't even noticed they'd arrived, having navigated the halls on autopilot. "Come along, Miss Granger. Since it appears he is here, the Headmaster needs to be appraised of what transpired this evening, and I haven't the time to explain it in more detail now. Hopefully not ever, if luck would only be on my side this one time. Let's go."
The room, explained by Harry several times over the years, held little interest for her. She hardly spared a glance for the odd magical devices she'd never seen before or the rows of portraits depicting famous witches and wizards that had all played a role in shaping the educational system she so valued. Not even the shelves of rare books were enticing enough to earn more than a cursory glance.
"Severus!" Professor Dumbledore exclaimed, quickly standing when they entered his office. "I just got word. Do -" he broke off abruptly when Professor Snape shifted enough to reveal her entering behind him.
Hermione noted that his wand arm was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been all term. It didn't appear to be getting any better either. What could have happened to him? Harry said that Dumbledore promised to tell him, but that he'd put off doing so each time Harry brought up the burned and withered appendage.
Severus didn't stop advancing until he was directly in front of the Headmaster's desk, and he'd braced his hands on the surface to glare accusingly at the elderly man.
"What has happened?" Professor Dumbledore asked calmly, seeming to have collected himself and was ready to hear the latest calamity that had befallen those under his care.
"Lucius Malfoy orchestrated a revel this evening. I warned you that he was unhinged after his stint in Azkaban, Albus," Professor Snape said angrily, eyes flashing obsidian blades at the man. Hermione swallowed at the sight, twisting her hands together before her. "I told you he -"
"Yes. Yes, you did, my boy," Professor Dumbledore agreed, nodding slowly, a troubled frown forming. Quietly, he inquired, "Miss Granger?"
"Tonight was about her. Lucius wanted revenge, and he got it - her mother is dead," Professor Snape informed him coolly.
A shiver stole over Hermione at the simple words. How could such a short statement have such a profound meaning?
"I am so sorry for your loss, Miss Granger," the Headmaster said kindly, a genuine look of sympathy descending as he turned his head to look at her. "I promise I shall see to things."
Confusion momentarily clouded her mind, then his meaning became clear. He'd see to her mother's remains. Another knife made its way through her blank shield, this time landing in her gut. Her stomach churned cruelly and pressure built behind her eyes, but Hermione quickly shut the emotions down, brutally blocking the internal screaming out.
"Harry can't know," she whispered, boldly meeting the blue eyes that had long since lost their familiar twinkle. It was impossible to be jovial in times such as these. The toll of this war was written in every wrinkle and aspect of his person.
"Are you certain? He is your friend. You can -"
"You know he'd blame himself. We can't afford that right now," she insisted firmly. "He has enough responsibility, and there is too much at stake if he does not handle the news well."
As instructed, Harry had kept her abreast of his private lessons with Dumbledore. While she may not fully comprehend their significance - not yet, at least - she did understand that his focus needed to remain entirely on that. His obsession with Malfoy was already enough of a distraction. He couldn't afford any more.
It didn't escape Hermione's notice either that Malfoy had been at the revel tonight. It could only mean one thing. Harry had been correct all along in his insistence that Malfoy had taken the Mark and joined up with their ranks. The unlikelihood of the situation notwithstanding, Hermione was not looking forward to Harry's smug satisfaction when he discovered the truth. Especially after she'd been so unfailingly dismissive of his concerns.
"Yes, of course you're right," he reluctantly agreed, though his frown deepened.
"Can you send my father away? Make him believe both my mum and me are gone - it's the only way to keep him safe," she insisted, suddenly positive that it was her only option. The only path left to her. "Or make him forget us entirely."
Hermione couldn't bear to face him again. Or worse, see him lying dead before her as well. She just couldn't.
Better to cut all ties now. After all, her mum had just gotten through accusing her of never being around anyways. It wasn't as though she even really knew him anymore. She didn't want to be responsible for causing him additional misery. Already the guilt she felt for the irreparable state of her relationship with them was enormous. The damage could not be undone now either, not now that her mum was dead.
The sound of a sharp inhale registered, but she didn't glance at the man beside her. Didn't want to know if he was condemning or praising her for her choice. And if he pitied her - pity from a man most swore was incapable of the emotion - her fragile composure would shatter in an instant.
"Are you certain this is what you want?" Professor Dumbledore asked gently, scanning her face.
"Yes," she said, a staunch resolution making her stand firm in her decision.
"Then I will see it done," he promised, and she noted a touch of pity had entered his eyes as well. It wasn't a solid blow coming from him. She'd already expected as much. But it still caused the numbness surrounding her to quiver noticeably. Hastily, Hermione averted her gaze. She did not want to break down in front of an audience. Dumbledore, sensing her desire, changed the subject, directing his next statement back to the dark man still glowering at him from across the expanse of his desk. "You got her out. Thank you. Young Mr. Malfoy?"
"He was horrified by his father's actions," Professor Snape announced, sneering as he spoke. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat as she recalled the way Lucius had brutally raped the woman in front of his son.
What had Azkaban done to the man that he would behave in such a way? Or had he always been capable of such atrocities? Malfoy's reaction definitely made it seem as though he'd never witnessed the like before this evening.
"Would you agree with this assessment?" Professor Dumbledore asked, turning back to face her.
Startled to be asked, Hermione timidly agreed, "Yes. It certainly appeared so."
"Then the boy can still be saved," Professor Dumbledore sighed, relief evident as his shoulders slumped and the tension drained from his rigid stance. Saved? What - but the Headmaster continued, "That is very good to hear. I had so feared the worst."
"And what of Miss Granger here? Are you not equally worried about her fate?" Professor Snape drawled ominously, jabbing a sharp finger in her direction.
The tension immediately returned to Professor Dumbledore's frame. His lips parted as he took her in, visibly searching for a sign of what his Defense professor could be referring to. Finally, he carefully asked, "What haven't you told me, Severus?"
"Lucius cast the Repeating Desire Charm on us," he stated blandly, his face suddenly an unreadable mask.
A flurry of whispering overtook the portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses, a number of them appearing to have awoken all at once to begin discussing the new development with their nearest neighbor. A buzzing din filled the room as they carried on, titillated over the recent development. Professor Dumbledore coughed, throwing a chastising look over his shoulder, but they were undeterred. Apparently, this was the most exciting thing they'd witnessed in years.
Hermione's attention, previously riveted to the two men, now began scanning the faces of those shooting her covert glances. What did they understand that she failed to? A few, seeming to have severed the school several centuries ago, even winked at her when they caught her eye, massive grins splitting their faces. Her continued ignorance left her unsettled. She itched to run to the library and see if she could seek out more explicit details on the situation she'd now become party to. Though it'd be easier to simply demand answers and explanations from the ones now engaged in a silent battle of wills.
The portraits' amusement and intrigue was not the reaction she had expected. Particularly in light of how Professor Dumbledore appeared too stunned for words. His lips parted as he cast about for an appropriate response. Eventually, he settled for simply saying, "I see."
"Indeed," Professor Snape snorted, thought without an ounce of genuine humor. Certainly it failed to rival that of what the portraits displayed.
"Severus," Professor Dumbledore began, the placating tone seeming to set Snape off.
"Don't. Do not dare suggest -"
"You know you must," Professor Dumbledore interjected, tipping his head a fraction and pinning the younger man with an expectant look. "There is nothing for it."
"No," he denied flatly. "I will be gone in five months anyways. There seems little point in waiting. Not when it will spare the girl."
"No, my boy. That won't do," Professor Dumbledore countered, a sad frown forming.
Hermione was struggling to follow their conversation. So much was left unsaid. References to previous conversations, and possibly an allusion to herself. Ordinarily, she was far more intelligent, able to garner meaning when significantly less was provided, but her shock hadn't entirely worn off, and her mind was still sluggish, slow to make the necessary connections.
Then Snape thoroughly shocked her by raging, "Why not? I did not save her tonight simply to turn around and repeatedly force myself on her! Besides, you had no problem demanding that I kill you at your leisure! Why can I not request the same of you now?"
Hermione heard herself gasp, and quickly covered her mouth in horror. Neither man even acknowledged her outburst, too consumed with the matter at hand. And apparently deciding which had the unwanted task of murdering the other. What in Merlin's name was that about?
"You are still needed. Your position is too valuable to lose," Professor Dumbledore insisted, appearing almost regretful as he refused Snape.
"You still intend to force me?" he asked, clearly startled and dismayed.
"My decision has not changed. If you don't, it will fall on young Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore intoned softly.
"And I have just confirmed that he is not in possession of the same twisted, blackened soul as myself," Professor Snape growled bitterly, a hollow laugh following his self-assessment. The sound was jarring and it fell heavily to the floor with a cacophonous rattling.
"I am already dying, Severus. At least this way it can gain us an advantage," Professor Dumbledore explained wearily, lifting his damaged hand for emphasis. "We must use any means at our disposal to stay a step ahead of Tom."
He was dying? Truly? How long did he have? Did Harry know? He couldn't. He'd have already said if he did. What were they supposed to do without him? They needed him! He was the only one Voldemort was afraid of. Without his assistance, Hermione feared nights like the one she'd just suffered would become commonplace. That could not be allowed to happen. She couldn't bear others experiencing such horrors.
"You are too free with your words," Professor Snape cautioned, darting a worried look at her as his posture stiffened minutely.
"I trust that Miss Granger will keep the events and revelations of this evening confidential," Professor Dumbledore stated calmly, his words no less an order for the gentleness with which they were issued. "She has proven herself most reliable and capable of restraint."
"Y-yes, Sir," she agreed, knowing some form of acknowledgement on her part was expected. Harry and Ron weren't to learn any of this. It was just like in her third year when she'd kept the existence of her time-turner from them.
"This could prove beneficial to us," the dying man said, contemplating the new situation and apparently finding something about it to his liking. "Think of how she can aid you."
Alarmed, her professor demanded, "I went to great lengths tonight to prevent her enduring this, and now… You can't honestly mean for me to -"
"You must," he insisted firmly, meaningfully adding, "for a multitude of reasons."
"She is my student!" he exclaimed.
"She is of age," Professor Dumbledore replied easily. "I can grade her work if you do not feel that you can do so without bias."
Of age? Her mind temporarily abandoned the troubling news that Professor Dumbledore was dying.
Why did it matter that she was of age? Of age for what?
Phineas Nigellus's smirk snagged her notice. At once her mind supplied, the spell!
"That doesn't make it right," Professor Snape insisted tensely. The spell involved sex. Sex between herself and the man protesting with all his considerable willpower. That was what they were discussing, and why the Headmaster was offering to grade her assignments. The conflict of interest. "There must be rules in place against something like this occurring here."
"You know that there are not. It appears I have been remiss in not seeing to them before now. Though that is currently working in our favor, is it not?"
"So I'm to teach her by day and bed her by night?" Professor Snape asked incredulously, adding, "The complications and ramifications of that alone!"
How many times would they be expected to… repeating. The answer was in the spell itself. Several times apparently. How long would the spell last? And why were they were discussing it as though it were a foregone conclusion that it would be happening - at least now that it had been decided that Professor Snape wasn't going to have Professor Dumbledore kill him instead.
Would he really rather die than sleep with her? Hermione wasn't sure if she should take offense to that or not.
Wait -
"Sir?" Hermione asked, gaining both men's attention. "There is no counter-charm, is there?"
She already knew the answer without them telling her. Because what other answer could there be if he was suggesting such an extreme and permanent alternative?
"No. The only thing for it is to appease it," Professor Snape informed her crisply as he continued to stare down the Headmaster.
"Has it already taken hold?" the older man asked curiously.
Professor Snape finally looked at her. His eyes slowly traveled down to her previously exposed breast. Tingles erupted over her skin in the wake of his glittering gaze, soft as velvet, awakening her senses as it stroked sensually over her.
He turned away abruptly and shifted restlessly.
"Yes," he muttered gruffly. "It will need to be seen to very soon."
His silken, baritone voice had turned sultry, deepening further. A shiver ran down her spine at the sound of it.
"Professor Snape needs to maintain his cover as a spy. It is imperative if we are to help Harry survive," Professor Dumbledore said, attempting to justify his decision to her. Perhaps persuade her to be a willing participant. "Can you handle this, Miss Granger?"
Honestly, she still wasn't sure she fully understood, apart from the fact that her pulse had begun to race each time Snape spoke, something that had never happened to her before. A pretty good indicator that he was right about the effects taking hold.
She nodded, acknowledging what had been said to her. It was getting harder to follow the conversation. Curiosity regarding just how much influence the spell had was beginning to dominate the majority of her mind. But yes, she could pretend nothing had changed in front of others even if they began a compelled intimate relationship.
"What creative new means of torturing me are you devising now, Albus?" Professor Snape asked suspiciously. Hermione had missed the calculating gleam come over the Headmaster, but she saw it then.
"A way to add a bit of respectability to this situation, ease your mind to a certain extent. As I mentioned, the ancient rules have never been rewritten. That particular charm is already part of the traditional binding ceremony. There are additional spells you would be able to utilize as well If you were to -"
"Absolutely not," Professor Snape stated categorically.
"You would not be the first professor to marry a student here at Hogwarts."
"What?" Hermione asked incredulously.
Hogwarts, A History had neglected to mention that particular bit of information if it were, in fact, true. Or it had been intentionally left out. As had the bit about house-elves. Funny how they only saw fit to report what displayed the school in the best light possible.
A couple of the portraits were nodding. The former presiding members seemed to find this an acceptable means of justifying what was just starting to really sink in for Hermione. It was going to be necessary for her to carry on an ongoing sexual liaison with Snape, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy. One that all of the assembled Death Eaters - including her classmate, Malfoy - was aware of. And now the Headmaster was suggesting they be bound even more completely.
"Surely you jest," she added, forcing a laugh that neither of the others joined her in.
"Hogwarts has been around for a thousand years. Once upon a time, it was common practice for students to be married before they graduated. It has only been in the last century that things have changed, and still many marry immediately upon graduation." Hermione thought of the Potters, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley too. He was right, most couples did marry young in the wizarding world. "And it is not unheard of for students to marry a professor here or there. Septima Vector did. And even Minerva was once engaged to a student here at Hogwarts, though unfortunately things did not work out between the young lovers."
"Sixty years ago!" Professor Snape argued, sounding thoroughly exasperated, and startlingly unsurprised by a revelation that thoroughly rocked Hermione.
"The point is," Professor Dumbledore said clearly, pausing to emphasize his next words, "that she was."
It seemed a bit extreme to Hermione that they were talking of having a binding ceremony. Was that really necessary? Did the Headmaster honestly think it would add a flare of… What had he called it? Respectability. Yes. Did he believe that extra measure was the best way for them to move forward?
And what of the war? From the way Dumbledore was talking, this would help Snape in his spying. She didn't see how, but given that a number of Death Eaters knew about the spell, it probably couldn't hurt.
"Will this help keep Harry safe?" she asked, seeking confirmation.
"Unquestionably," Professor Dumbledore replied immediately. "Next year, when I am gone, she will be a means for you to stay in contact with Harry. Think of Molly's clock. With a binding you could have the same. You would be primed to protect them. Until we've seen this through to the end, as you once promised."
"You would use that against me? Here? Now?"
Hermione listened to him resisting, recognizing that it was a futile attempt. As she watched him, she couldn't help but remember the care he'd taken with her earlier. As well as all the times he'd saved her and her friends over the years.
He was a good man. And Dumbledore was correct. Harry needed him. The Headmaster wouldn't be suggesting this course if he didn't believe it was necessary.
"She is not in the Order for you to use like this - she doesn't deserve for me to -"
"I'll do it," Hermione interrupted. Snape gaped at her, and as he did, the warmth in her belly became even more pronounced. The spell seemed to almost beckon her to take a step closer to him.
When she did, his eyes widened perceptively, and he growled, "Fine."
"Then it's settled. We should handle this at once so you have time to... adjust while the majority of the students are away," he said delicately. "As I've been reinstated on the Wizengamot, I am legally able to conduct the necessary rituals."
"You're afraid I'll back out," Professor Snape said drolly, though he'd yet to look away from her.
"To put it mildly, yes," he replied casually. Then in the next breath, "If you would join hands - the ones you used earlier - I promise to keep this brief and to the point."
Snape held his cut hand out, palm up. There was a challenge on his face, but Hermione couldn't tell if he was willing her to refuse to take it or to willingly tie herself to him in such an intimate and lasting manner. With a deep breath, the comforting scent of sandalwood and butterscotch swirling around her from their proximity, Hermione placed her hand trustingly in his.
The moment their skin made contact, she felt it. Unmistakable desire. Her core heated, arousal making itself known as her blood hummed, eager for more. Crimson painted his cheekbones, letting her know he felt it too.
"Do you promise to do all in your power to protect one another and keep each other's confidences?" Professor Dumbledore inquired, sounding willfully oblivious to the sexual current passing between the two before him.
"Yes," they both answered dutifully, Snape's more clipped than her own.
Dumbledore gave an elaborate wave and flourish of his wand. A thin gold band of shimmering light looped around her wrist then Snape's. It glowed brightly, illuminating the entire room before fading.
"Then you are bound until death," he concluded simply.
Hermione appreciated that there were no false promises or expectations of love and devotion. Such words would have rung hollow and made a mockery of her professor's noble actions to save her that evening.
Because that had been another factor in her agreeing to do this. He'd given her a chance to decide her fate earlier, and she'd chosen him - a choice she'd make all over again knowing that this was where they'd end up. No matter what was about to happen between them, or would happen in the future, it was significantly preferable to being at Lucius or Greyback's mercy.
"Don't worry - I have no intention of surviving beyond the end of the war," Professor Snape, her husband, drawled coldly. "You'll be free again soon enough."
She couldn't imagine anyone being so willing to throw their life away. Was his existence truly so bleak?
"Perhaps, in time, you will come to view this as a blessing," Professor Dumbledore said encouragingly. It wasn't exactly clear who he was directing the statement towards, or if it was intended for each of them. But then he followed it up with, "In the meantime, I suggest you attempt a level of civility, Severus."
Snape's derisive snort told her what he thought of the headmaster's words.
"Come, Mi - hmm - Granger. I'm positive you have an endless list of questions running through that head of yours," he barked, glancing at the cold grate and seeming to decide he'd rather them take the extra time to walk to their next destination. "I might as well get started answering them immediately."
Was she truly so predictable?
Because, of course, he was absolutely correct.