"Professor Blanchet? Can I ask you something?"
The professor paused half-way through packing away her textbook and turned to peer at Hermione. Despite her usually impassive face, her expression was one of startled bewilderment. Hermione supposed she couldn't blame her for being surprised; she'd resolutely avoided any personal interaction with the professor since the start of term. Her shame still burnt too hot at times, and she'd been left feeling quite out of sorts and wrong-footed around the professor.
Raising her eyebrows, Professor Blanchet pursed her lips for a moment before continuing to pack her bag.
"Of course, Ms. Granger. Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?" Turning to face her, the professor waved a manicured hand towards one of the student tables.
"Oh. Oh, you really don't have to do that." Hermione stuttered, pulling out a chair and wincing at the scraping sound it made against the flagstone floor. She released her bag with a thump.
"Nonsense. It's no trouble at all," the professor replied as she finished packing up her belongings.
With a smart clap, she suddenly spoke in a louder, harsher voice than Hermione had ever heard her use.
"Mozzy?"
A sharp pop, and a house elf in a smart embroidered tea towel appeared right next to the professor.
"What is French Miss be wanting?" it squeaked, bowing so low its long nose nearly scraped the floor.
"A pot of tea please, for my student and myself. And some biscuits if you have them."
With another loud 'pop!' the house elf—Mozzy—was gone.
Professor Blanchet made her way towards the table, her glittering robes (pink today, Hermione noted) winking like diamonds.
Something on her face must have made the professor pause, for she turned a calm eye on her and raised a single eyebrow.
"You don't approve?" she asked, leaning back smoothly as a tea service suddenly appeared on the table.
Hermione didn't know what to say. She'd come here for advice after all, and antagonizing Professor Blanchet before she even asked for assistance seemed counter-productive. At the same time, she found herself deeply disappointed in the casual way the professor ordered about the Hogwarts elves.
"I struggled with them, too, when I was your age." She said, grasping the teapot and pouring them each a cup.
"Really? I rather thought all pure-blood wizards were fine with slavery." She couldn't deny the bitterness that seeped out from between her own lips.
The professor's only reaction was raising one finely-shaped eyebrow.
"Cream or sugar?"
Hermione felt off balance, like she'd been preparing to leap and the professor had knocked her down with a single finger.
"No thank you."
The professor handed her her cup before adding a splash of cream and one sugar cube to her own, stirring briskly with a dainty spoon. Only after she was fully done did she take a bracing inhale of the steam above her cup and one dainty sip before her eyes snapped up to lock with Hermione's.
"You assume much. I did not grow up with house elves; they were not a part of my life until I reached adulthood."
"Are they not common in France?"
"Hardly. Keeping house elves fell out of favour there years ago, before I was born. They are much more common in Britain."
"Oh. Really?" Hermione couldn't stop herself. This wasn't what she'd come to talk about, but she couldn't help but be interested at the turn the conversation was taking.
"Yes. British wizards have always been somewhat isolated on your little island. Change comes slowly here."
"So then you agree! That something needs to change!" Hermione eagerly leaned her elbows onto the table, tea already forgotten.
The professor gave her a graceful shrug and sipped her tea. "It is a fact of life here. Do I like it? Not particularly. But it is not for me to dictate the way another culture operates."
"But what if something another culture is doing is wrong?" Hermione nearly shouted. "I just can't accept that. I won't accept that."
The professor gazed at her intently for a moment.
"No. I dare say you won't." She leaned back before gently setting down her teacup with a slight clink. "Now, I do not think you came here to speak about house elves."
Hermione knew she wasn't always good at picking up on social cues, but even she could tell that the professor was ending this topic of conversation. She could get on to the advice she wanted, or she could pursue the issue of house elves and never get the answers she'd come for.
With a sigh, she removed her elbows from the table and reached into her bag for her latest assignment from Professor Blanchet.
"I had some questions about your assignment."
"Oh? You seemed to have a very good grasp of the material."
Frustration spiked through Hermione like a sudden gale, blowing away her patience and scattering her thoughts.
"Then why did you grade me so much harsher than everyone else? Neville and Harry both got much better comments from you than I did."
Hermione took a bracing sip of tea to distract herself and regather her faculties. She swore her hands didn't shake as she placed the cup back on its saucer.
"Ah. I see."
Hermione glanced up at the professor's face and immediately wished she hadn't. There was a look of… amusement, that she didn't like at all.
"Your comprehension is very good, Ms. Granger. As I commented on your essay."
"But then why did you give me an Acceptable when Neville got Exceeds Expectations? I helped him with that essay, I know he didn't understand the material better than me."
Professor Blanchet sighed.
"Ms. Granger. You are friends with Mr. Longbottom, yes?"
"Of course."
"Tell me, then. In your opinion, what does Mr. Longbottom need, more than anything?"
'A brain' was Hermione's immediate, vicious answer. She was grateful she'd been able to keep that thought behind her teeth.
She took a moment to think. What did Neville need? She tried to think of his greatest academic triumph and remembered Defense class last year. With Snape and the horrid vulture hat. When he'd been facing the boggart, what had Professor Lupin done to get Neville to succeed?
Suddenly, Hermione had an answer.
"Confidence. Neville needs confidence."
For the first time, Professor Blanchet graced her with a full, toothy smile.
"Exactly. Your friend is smart, but he is still learning this material. He needs confidence and encouragement to continue learning. As do all of your classmates."
"But then why didn't you give me any?"
This seemed to give the professor pause.
"I suppose I thought you realized that I had. I certainly meant to. You are very bright, Ms. Granger. Very bright. You knew this material before you came to class. We both know this. What I want you to do is go one step further: do not simply regurgitate what we both are aware you already know. Take what you already know and move further with it. Propose something new. Tell me your opinion on topics. I am trying to encourage and guide you to continue to learn in my class."
"But I am learning! I've learned plenty about healing magic and household charms."
"Ms. Granger." The professor's voice trailed off as she gathered her thoughts. "Ms. Granger. You have one of the sharpest minds in this school. I know what you are learning in my class is simple for you. I have but to explain something once and I know you will understand and remember it. Such is not the case for many of your classmates. Would that all of your professors could give you the challenging instruction that you need. That you deserve. But we can't. We don't have the time. So it is in your essays and your extra work where we have the opportunity to push you: to help you keep learning. Does this make sense?"
"Sort of."
"I ask you to do more than your friends because you are capable of it. And because my class does not have formal grades for you. You are not the only student who is asked, who is pushed, to do more than rote recitation in your essays."
"I'm not?"
Professor Blanchet just laughed.
"No, Ms. Granger. You are very bright and very capable. But you are not the only bright and capable student in this school."
That shouldn't have stung. But it did, a little. Deep down, Hermione knew that she liked being special. She liked being the best at everything. It irked her when she was reminded that it was physically impossible to be the best at literally everything.
"So what can I do to be better?"
"I would urge you to move beyond reciting every fact you know, and bring more focus to your work. Every professor in this school knows that you have done the reading and understand the material. Spend less time trying to convince us of that and more time synthesizing something new, even if you're wrong or if what you propose is incomplete. I want to hear your thoughts on the topics. Do you see a logical move forward for a theory? Do you see an application for something in a different field? Do you disagree with the author of the text? Show me you are thinking about the material, not just that you have memorized it."
"I guess that makes sense."
A horrifying thought crossed her mind.
"Do you think the other professors feel the same way?"
"I don't know. Do they?"
Hermione sat and pondered, bringing to mind all of the assignments she'd completed recently. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall both seemed very happy with her work. As did Professor Sprout. But her last potions essay? That had dripped with scathing red comments despite the high mark attached.
Was? Was Professor Snape awkwardly trying to push her to do better?
"Professor Snape, maybe," she offered hesitantly. "He's always calling me a little know-it-all."
"Ah. A tough nut to crack, your potions professor. I cannot say I know him well. Or would want to," she added with a small smile. "But I can tell you he is brilliant in his field. A true prodigy. I suspect he'd begun experimenting with new spells and potions by the time he was your age. Perhaps he would appreciate a similar creative spirit in your own essays? Or perhaps a more critical examination of your sources?"
Hermione shrugged, unimpressed with the suggestions.
"I suppose I could try."
The clock at the front of the classroom rang the half hour.
"Is that all, Ms. Granger? I don't mean to push you out, but it is getting late."
Hermione nodded. "Yes professor. I promise, my next essay will be better."
Professor Blanchet smiled and vanished the tea set with a graceful swish of her wand.
"Your previous essay was fine. Superb, even. If you decide to take my advice, I hope you do so for yourself, and not for me."
That made absolutely no sense to Hermione, but she nodded anyways.
"I'll do better, you'll see."
With a rueful, indulgent shake of her head, the professor grabbed her own bag and ushered Hermione out of the room.
"Then I look forward to it, Ms. Granger."
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