AN: I'm finally back! This last week has been chaotic, but things should calm down until the end of the month. This means updates should be more regular, at least until July.
In the meantime, Happy Pride Month! I hope it's full of joy and fun.
Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
If he couldn't save himself from Minerva's meddling, he could save Hermione from hearing her bragging. Merlin knew the Headmistress was going to gloat about her latest victory, the implementation of her plan to bring Severus to respectability, and the joy she'd feel once Severus found 'the one', or whatever such nonsense a true love was called these days. He didn't know how Hermione would react to the news that his days of being a bachelor were numbered, nor did he have the mental energy to imagine it. All he wanted was for one colleague to remain a neutral presence before being talked into cheering on his blind dates.
It was this impulse that led Severus to Hermione's quarters. The door was ajar, but Severus did not enter for fear of interrupting the ongoing conversation.
"You need bedrest," Minerva's voice was firm, though not scolding. "Resting will do you much better than trying to do everything yourself."
"I promise you, I know my limitations," Hermione answered. "If I need rest, I will be in bed."
"Can you make that promise? We both know you like to push yourself, sometimes too much."
"Trust me, I've learned how my body works. As long as I don't stand for the next few hours I will be fine."
"I doubt the wheelchair is better than standing given how active you are in it."
"A wheelchair only requires the use of my arms, not the use of my legs, hence the reason I'm in it. I won't have any problem taking care of myself."
"I would still prefer you to remain in bed."
"I promise you, I'm fine."
Severus shook his head. He had no idea how Hermione tolerated Minerva's doting. It was hard enough for the headmistress to be in his dating life. He didn't want to imagine arguing with the Headmistress every time it rained over whether or not he was capable of making a sandwich. The fact that Hermione hadn't killed her made her a better person than he could ever hope to be.
"Fine, but you know to call me if you need anything," Minerva continued.
"I will."
"And don't be afraid to use a house elf." Minerva's footsteps drew closer to the door. "You know they live to serve."
He could almost hear the muttered curses under Hermione's breath.
"Anyway, I need to make some arrangements that I think," Minerva opened the door all the way, spotting Severus. Her grin was similar to the one Crookshanks had when he caught a large mouse.
"Arrangements that you think will what?" Hermione wheeled herself into her sitting room.
"Well, I'll allow Severus to tell you all about them." Minerva's eyes twinkled in a way reminiscent of Dumbledore. After a quick glance, she left Severus standing in front of the doorway.
Hermione tilted her heads before twisting her lower lip. "How scared should I be of Minerva's arrangements?"
"There is nothing for you to fear. As for me," he stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. "Her arrangements are absolutely terrifying."
"Don't tell me she's appointing you as Head of Gryffindor." She leaned back in her wheelchair. "I don't think the school would remain standing if you were to lead Gryffindor."
"Even Minerva isn't foolish enough to do that."
"But she's foolish enough to get on your bad side in some other way."
Severus exhaled before strolling over to her couch. "How is your leg?"
"It's better than this morning." She turned her chair towards him. While her right leg was still, her left leg was spasming and shaking.
"Does it hurt?" He asked.
She rubbed it. "Not as much as it did this morning."
"If you need any kind of potion..."
"No," she answered. "I'm done with potions. Even for something minor, I'll take muggle medication and hope for the best."
"Understood," he sat on the sofa.
"You didn't come here to discuss my well-being, did you?" She took her hand off her leg.
"I did plan on checking up on you after the Quidditch game. With as long as it went on I figured you had enough time to recover your strength as well as read a book."
"You know me well." She grinned.
"Are you still on Persuasion?"
"Yes, though I'm almost finished with it."
"Were you reading this book for pleasure or for teaching?"
"Pleasure," she answered. "I can't see teaching Persuasion to anyone who would appreciate it, at least not in these classes."
"Agreed." He slumped onto her cream colored sofa.
"If you want I can loan you a copy." She wheeled closer. "It could help get your mind off of whatever Minerva has planned for you."
"Trust me, Jane Austen will only worsen my mood."
"Why, because you're too sophisticated to enjoy a romance novel?"
"No, because romance is the last thing I want." He put his head into his hands.
Hermione blinked before answering in a soft voice, "Minerva must really have done a number on you."
"That is one way of putting it."
"I see." She locked her wheelchair into place and pulled out the book she'd had on her lap.
Severus looked up, unsure of what to say. At first, he thought he'd rant about the situation to her. Yet, he needed was the opening for him to snap about life's latest injustice. All she needed was to say something which would irritate him so he could unload.
What he had not counted on was that Hermione had grown into a mature adult, and had learned the value of silence. She trusted him to tell her things on his own time in his own way. Most days he appreciated it, until he wanted some opening to rail against life's latest injustice.
"I bet on the Slytherin team winning," he began.
"Yes, I heard the game was close, but Gryffindor won." She turned her attention from her book to him.
"Yes, in my inadvisable attempt to make the game watchable, I made a bet with Minerva."
"I take it you lost."
"Obviously."
"And more than your pride is wounded."
"You could say that."
"I know things seem bleak, but you have to trust Minerva. She wouldn't force you to do anything too humiliating. If you speak with her, she may back off, or modify the bet," Hermione answered.
"I doubt that will happen," his voice was quiet.
"What on earth did you bet?" She asked. "From the way you're talking, it sounds like she's asked you to supervise all the remaining Hogsmeade weekends."
"Now there is a dilemma: being with a group of dunderheaded women, or with a group of dunderheaded students."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione winced form her left leg's contraction.
He looked into her eyes. "I have to go on at least one blind date a month."
Hermione's concern evaporated. Her face grew red as she choked back her giggles. "That's it? All you have to do is go on one blind date a month?"
He nodded.
She released the laughter she'd been holding in. Severus glared at her, hoping she'd remember how intimidating he could be as a professor. Just because they'd been colleagues for five years didn't mean he'd forgotten how to intimidate her.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh." She gasped. "I just thought you'd been forced to do something horrible, and this," her laughter overtook her again. "This is classic Minerva!"
"I'm glad someone is amused from this." He snapped. "I take little pleasure in this situation."
"I know you wouldn't. I know this is hard," she caught her breath. "But this isn't the worst thing which could occur."
"Perhaps you like to spend your evenings amongst dunderheads, but I do not."
"Why spend my evenings with anyone outside of Hogwarts when I have my books?"
"Exactly. You understand that. Minerva does not."
"I know she doesn't understand people like us, but I'm sure she won't pick any dunderheads for you to date."
"You overestimate the intelligence of Gryffindors," He answered.
"I don't know. I think I'm quite brilliant, and I am a Gryffindor," she replied.
"If you think this situation is at all amusing, then I question your intelligence, or at least your sense of good taste." He sat up straighter.
"Look, it's only one evening per month. That's only nine evenings you must spend with another woman."
"No, she said I must go on a blind date at least once a month."
"I'm sure you can convince Minerva to keep it to once a month."
"Even if I can, that's still at least nine evenings spent away from my study, my brewing, and my books."
"True, but let's view it differently. You get to spend at least nine nights at various restaurants, visiting museums or libraries…"
"I very much doubt any of these women want to spend time at museums or libraries."
"You won't know until you meet them." She shifted in place, hoping to relieve the pressure from her trembling leg.
"I've met enough women to know very few of them enjoy what I do, save you," he answered. "You were the most sensible person today for remaining in your room where you could not make foolish bets. I only wish I could've found a way to stay behind with you."
"Yes, but it would've been improper for the Head of the Slytherin House to be absent for such an important game."
"I doubt it was much more inspiring to see their head of house bored out of their skull and distraught over a lost bet."
"Perhaps you'll think twice before gambling again," her smile returned.
"Or I'll gamble again to get out of these ridiculous dates," he grumbled.
"Careful. With that attitude you may have a decade's worth of blind dates, assuming you do not find anyone you fancy."
"I can honestly say no woman alive can hold my interest for longer than a few minutes."
"You must be deathly bored with this conversation then," she replied.
"You know what I mean," he answered. "Friendship is different than romance, and much more preferable."
"I suppose I cannot argue with that." She slouched. "Merlin knows how well Ron and I ended up."
"He was a dunderhead, just like these women will be dunderheads."
"Don't judge someone before you've met them, unless you have met every woman in the world and have had long conversations with each of them." Her straight posture returned.
"I am an excellent judge of character, and I already know Minerva will pick women I will despise."
"Fine, but try to look pleasant. You wouldn't want to leave too terrible of an impression."
"I care little about what people think of me."
"Yes, but don't make things more difficult than they should be."
"I will do my best not to poke my eyes out during my dates."
"That would be advisable given that most witches do not enjoy the sight of blood on their first date."
"When you put it that way," he scratched his chin.
Hermione chuckled.
"All that being said," he folded his hands. "How is your prep for tomorrow's classes going?"
"I got most of what I needed done yesterday, so there was little other work." She sighed. "Prepping for Muggle Studies is not difficult. All you do is talk about electricity, hear the students prattle on about how exotic it is, have someone ask if all muggles can walk, and bite back your annoyance with the whole spectacle."
"I hated Muggle Studies for that very reason. It perpetuated stereotypes and gave wizards such as the Marauders a skewed view of the muggle world. Then, they thought I was evil for lodging any kind of complaint against it. If I didn't think muggles were perfect, I must be beyond redemption."
"I agree that most people are too idealistic when teaching it. All the textbooks are so overly saccharine that any problems muggles have are erased. Then there's the students' attitude towards the whole thing. I have no idea how to teach them to do anything other than gawk. If they aren't gawking at the technology they're gawking at my walker or a wheelchair. At best it's distracting, at worse," She exhaled. "completely demoralizing."
"At least you are a Muggleborn. Most of the other professors have not been muggleborns. That's already progress."
"Perhaps." She glanced at a clump of Crookshanks' fur on the carpet.
"Would you appreciate commiserating over our sorry situations over a good glass of wine?" He asked. "I can go to my quarters and gab a bottle."
"Only if it is that Riesling I enjoy, and you tell me which Jane Austen book you find most entertaining."
"The latter will be easy. None of them appeal to me." He stood.
"Because you're so masculine and opposed to any kind of sweetness and joy," she grinned.
He smirked. "And here I thought you didn't know me."
Hermione unlocked her wheelchair and rolled towards the kitchen. "I'll get out the cheese, salami, and crackers."
"Indeed," Severus strolled out of the room, thankful at least one witch in his life wasn't a complete dunderhead.