Just her luck, Hermione was the resident ugly girl among two pretty girls. Parvarti was stunning with large dark brown eyes on soft cheekbones and black hair trailing past her waist in a plait and even medium brown skin. Lavender was pretty with wavy blond hair that fell past her shoulders and rosy cheeks with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile.
She didn't care much for Lavender, she seemed to have intense emotional reactions that changed like the breeze. She didn't seem like a bad person, she was just difficult to be around. Parvarti, on the other hand, seemed patient and compassionate, though she didn't seem to go out of her way to bond with Hermione. Neither of them did. But they so far only had one night. Things could change.
Hermione descended the stairs into the common room and searched for a sign anyone was there. She spied Fred and George leaving the porthole, tormenting Ron and Harry. She jogged to catch up to them, but they seemed to increase their pace.
Maybe it's not intentional, she told herself and she mustered the courage to call out to them. "Hey, wait up!"
No response. She knew they heard her, the four of them even looked back, but only quickened their pace after. That stung. George defended her last night. Why was he avoiding her now? Maybe Neville would see her.
Hermione sat next to Neville at the table, but he inched as far as he could away from her. He muttered something about losing his appetite and left.
This was going to be a long seven years.
Breakfast was lonely, but morning break was hell. Every time she tried to join a conversation or a group she was shut out. She told herself she would get used to the sight of others walking away from her, pretending they couldn't see her or hear her. At one point she was even met with a cliched "must be the wind" from a group of second year girls.
Hermione clutched her books to her chest and decided to make a run for the corridor off the library. She kept her head down and told herself not to cry. If anyone saw that she was as good as dead. She weaved through the corridors until she collided into someone.
"Three metres, you pathetic shite!" An Irish voice called.
"Sorry!" she squeaked looking up to see the red-haired Slytherin boy, O'Malley.
She finally remembered where they had met and suddenly wished her father had expelled him. He was thirteen, she was eleven, he towered over her. What reason had he to treat her so poorly?
"Don't worry, Heather," Pansy Parkinson said loudly as she entered the library. "I already know to stay far away from that stupid, ugly cow."
"Shh!" Madam Pince hissed at the girls. "If you're going to cause trouble, Miss Snape, you should just go!"
"Sorry!" Hermione bowed her head repeatedly and backed away.
Hermione ducked into a broom cupboard and let herself sink to the floor and sobbed.
"Get the hell up, you little idiot!" a voice snapped.
"Sorry!" she cried, melting into the wall. "I thought I was alone!"
"And I thought I raised a functional human being!" her father spat grabbing her arm."It appears we were both wrong!"
Hermione cautiously rose to her feet.
"This is pathetic!" he continued. "Do you think this is an even remotely appropriate response?!"
Hermione tried to speak but no sounds escaped her lips.
"It's like speaking to a fucking four-year-old! Did I not tell you that the world out there was cruel? Did I not specifically say that this world would eat you alive? I seem to recall telling you all this and more, girl. And you, my insufferable child, insisted you wanted this!"
Hermione fell to her knees and instead of her father, when she looked up she saw a bushy haired woman. She looked like an older and much prettier version of Hermione.
"Mum?" she squeaked.
"Unfortunately," the woman hissed. "I had so many dreams of raising you with your father. I remember being so happy when I was pregnant. But then I gave birth and you came out all wrong. I wasn't losing my twenties to a sick, pathetic, spineless, hideous, insufferable child! With how you turned out, I can honestly say I have never been happier with a decision of mine. I just feel simply awful for your poor father."
"He didn't want me?" she gulped.
"Oh, darling," she cooed, lifting her chin. "Who could ever possibly want you?"
"Hiro likes me," she whispered.
"Wait till he sees you!" the woman sang.
Hermione woke with a jolt in a tangle of red and gold sheets. It was still the first night. None of that happened...yet. True, her imaginary mother wasn't going to magically appear in a broom cupboard, but the rest of it she could see playing out as the dream unfolded. She needed no more evidence than the train. Social Suicide... She wasn't going to sleep. She got dressed and headed into the common room. She reviewed her notes and practised what spells she could before she finally heard the rooster's crow followed by the chime of a bell.
"Are you sure you're not Filch's child?" George asked with yawn as he, Fred and Lee Jordan entered the common room.
"I certainly hope not," she forced a giggle and threw her journal in her bag. "Why?"
"Because you never sleep!" Fred finished.
"I guess I'm just a morning person," she shrugged.
"I'm telling you, Harry," Ron began enthusiastically. "We'll-"
"Look, George, it's our ickle Won!"
"Mum did ask us to take care of him," George mused, slipping an arm around him.
"Naturally," Fred said. "That should mean we stay on his tail all year to make sure he follows our perfect influence."
"Perfect influence?" Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked.
"Need I remind you," Lee chimed in. "You taught them to count cards!"
"Great!" Percy Weasley huffed straightening his glasses. "I see you've wasted no time in corrupting our brother and the other first years."
"Corrupting first years?" Fred asked innocently. "Would we do that, George?"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Fred!"
"Did you really teach them to count cards?" Ron whispered as the lot of them left the porthole.
"Perhaps," she smirked.
"You have no idea how much pocket money I've lost over the summer because of that!"
"I'll teach you too," she whispered, hopeful to make it right. "I'll throw in dice and coin flips as well."
"Won't do any good," Ron whispered back. "They have trick coins and dice."
"I'll think of something."
Ron rolled his eyes and groaned. Hermione began to feel like there was no winning with him. Perhaps she should give up, there were other first years, and them simply being the first people to express concern over her well-being didn't mean she had to chase after them like a hopeless puppy. Besides, after everything she read about James Potter, she doubted her father would take her befriending Harry lightly.
The six of them sat together and Neville joined opposite Hermione. She watched the boys joke with each other silently, her eyes drifting to the silent, pink faced Neville. That was her ticket, the boy was as awkward and ill-equipped as she was. Finally, someone her father couldn't scare away. He needed her as much as she needed him. She just hoped she could be a good friend to him.
"Everything okay, Neville?" she asked between the twin's horror stories.
"Erm-yeah," he fumbled with his hands. "I-erm-I found Trevor last night."
"Neville, that's great!" Hermione said.
"Erm, he found his way back in my robe pocket..." Neville admitted.
Do you have any idea how much I berated myself for failing you? Honestly! But that wouldn't have been helpful to say. She swallowed her anger and smiled gently at him. "The important thing is you found him."
"Your frog, right?" Ron asked.
"Toad!" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Know-it-all! I don't see why you're offended. It's Neville's pet."
"I'm not," she replied sweetly. "I just think it would behove you to know the difference between two distinct species before you have to start identifying pieces of their anatomy."
Ron's ears turned pink and she felt a wave of shame come over her with the muffled laughter from Lee,Fred and George. She thought it would be liberating given how he treated her last night, but she just felt pity.
"I'm just being a bitch, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I am quite the insufferable know-it-all. So, you're right about that."
"Was that supposed to be an apology?" Ron scoffed.
"Sorry!" she said, turning her face down and clasping her hands.
The seven of them picked at their food in silence until McGonagall came around with the timetables for the Gryffindors. Hermione eagerly took the opportunity to read through the bloody thing and ignore the six boys surrounding her. She was so bad at this. Maybe it was the eleven years locked in a dungeon, but she couldn't say that.
"Any particular classes you're looking forward to?" Hermione asked the group at large.
"Fred, Lee and I have divination this morning," George said.
"Kooky Trelawney is supposed to be hilarious," Fred whispered. "We're making bets on who she predicts dies in this class."
"What?" Neville gulped. "Do students die every year?"
"No, mate," Lee offered. "Trelawney just likes to make dramatic predictions every year."
"Oliver says they're always wrong!" Fred added.
"And always entertaining!" George laughed.
Did you guys honestly choose an elective simply to laugh at the teacher? Hermione thought but bit her tongue. She had done enough damage.
"Bet I know what class you're looking forward to," Ron said around his food pointing a fork at Hermione.
"Transfiguration," she said. "I certainly hope there wasn't money on that bet."
"You-" Ron began.
"I'm full. See you in class."
"But you didn't even-" Harry started.
She tuned him out before he finished.
I am not apologizing to that prat! Hermione made her way to the library to study until first bell. He hadn't even met her father and had already seemed to have decided that she deserved to be hated because of things he heard. She could hardly believe he and the twins were raised by the same people. Though she supposed Percy was drastically different from them again.
Hermione sat near the back of the classroom between Neville and a boy named Dean Thomas, whose doodles put her isolation art-works to shame. Dean was muggle-raised so he hadn't received the memo to stay far away from her like the others seemed to. Though he hadn't engaged in idle chit-chat until Hermione started.
"That's very good," she observed.
"Thanks," he shrugged. "Until I got my letter, my mum was convinced I would be a cartoonist."
"The Daily Prophet uses editorials and other cartoons. You could always do that," she offered. "You can already put one of the cartoonists to shame."
Hermione wondered if she went too far when she saw his brown cheeks flush pink. "Gee, thanks," he said awkwardly, running a hand through his black curls.
"G-g-good m-m-morning,cl-class!" Quirrell stammered at the front of the room.
"Good morning, professor," half the class recited.
Quirrell read from the register asking all who were present to indicate with a hand so he could learn their names and one interesting fact about them. Hermione was never once so happy for her father's last name. S. She was near the bottom of the list and could use everyone else's answers to inform hers. This would be easy. She could blend in.
"T-Terrance B-Boot?"
"Here!" exclaimed a boy. "I go by Terry and I can speak three languages."
"L-Lavender Br-Brown?"
"Here!" she beamed. "I have two rabbits at home!"
The list ran through like that. Some of her classmates had trouble conjuring something interesting, others had something at the tip of their tongue. Hermione was surprised when Harry's name was called and he stammered looking for something. The best he could come up with was that he "erm-guess he can play the flute" which was met by underwhelmed groans. Despite the disaster at breakfast, which was admittedly Ron's fault, she felt a wave of pity again. He just wanted to disappear, and she could relate to it.
"H-Hermione Sn-" Quirrell paused. "Oh, d-d-dear, P-Proffessor Sn-Snape's little g-girl? Wh-Why l-last I s-s-saw you, you w-w-were th-the s-s-size -o-of a k-kitten!"
The class erupted into laughter, echoing off the stone walls. Hermione put her head in her arms on her desk trying to run maths equations through her head, potions ingredients, spells and principles, alchemical properties. Hell, skipping chants, anything to drown out the sound of their laughter. Could she leave? If she did that she could find a hiding spot. She wished she was the size of a kitten. Then she could dart out of there unnoticed.
"O-oh d-d-dear, h-how f-fool-foolish o-of m-me," Quirrell stammered. "S-sorry, d-dear. L-let's f-f-focus o-on th-the cl-class, p-p-please."
"Neville!" Hermione hissed in his ear. "I will do your homework for a whole month if you wipe this from my memory!"
This was going to be a long seven years.
It was so quiet now. Severus told himself that it was only the first week and he would grow used to it. He liked the quiet...but as he set up the needed supplies for the fifth-year Slytherin/Gryffindor class he realised how much he missed Hermione's comments. By now she would have made one or two gripes about how he just had to keep everything on the higher shelves. He would have some recollection from when she was a toddler to blame, she would have some cheeky retort and probably roll her eyes.
At least he had Saturdays. Was it selfish of him to expect that? Perhaps, but it did save her from getting into whatever mischief the Weasley twins and Jordan would likely drag her into. And getting further involved with Potter and Weasley,or taking on the role of surrogate for a boy twice her size with Longbottom. Why couldn't she have been sorted into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? His life-her life would have been so much easier if she had been.
"Stop antagonizing Miss George, Wood!" he called from over his desk not ten minutes after class started. "That'll be ten points!"
The blond girl swiftly returned to taking her notes after scowling at the tall messy haired boy. Perhaps Oliver Wood thought being captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team gave him some sort of superiority over his peers. He would have to disillusion the boy quickly.
Percy Weasley shifted his glasses and gingerly raised his hand, probably to defend his classmate.
"It's not up for debate, Weasley!" he shouted. "I should hope you have better control of your brothers than you do your classmates. Or does that sort of treatment of girls pass for acceptable in Gryffindor?"
True, the girl may have started it, she was abrasive, but Wood's words had no place in his classroom.
"No, sir," Percy Weasley said.
"Then don't justify the behaviour," he said. "That'll be five more points."
The fourth year Gryffindors collectively groaned at Percy Weasley. Treatment he noted the quidditch captain didn't take despite losing the group more points. He wondered if teenagers cared about anything more than such shallow victories and-he had to think about something else, anything else.
"He called the girl what?" McGonagall coughed out her water.
"So you see why I had to be harsh on the first week," he said.
"I do," McGonagall sighed."A bunch of first and third years aren't going to behave that way. I'm certain you can take your eyes off them for a second."
Day four and Hermione spent every damn meal squeezed between the Weasley twins opposite Jordan with Potter, Longbottom and the younger Weasley boy nearby. How many times now had he seen Hermione shrink or outright leave a meal after an exchange between her and the youngest Weasley or Potter? Damn boys.
"And you were afraid she wouldn't get along," Dumbledore chuckled. "It seems she found where she belongs quite well."
She belongs there like a squirrel in a cat's mouth! "Yes, I'm simply thrilled that my only daughter has decided to surround herself with older boys at the tender age of eleven."
"They're jus' boys, Professor," Hagrid asked leaning from the other side of McGonagall. "Wha's the wors' tha' could possibly happen?"
Severus shot a withering look his way, and not to his surprise, the rest of the table seemed to follow suit. The worst that could possibly happen? Just boys? Did he forget being one himself? There was an assortment of damage they could do, and some he had not even thought about until that morning. He opened his mouth to scold Hagrid, but Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him and spoke instead.
"Perhaps, we shouldn't be asking him to imagine the worst," he said gently.
"S-such a cl-clever g-girl," Quirrell added from his other side. "Sh-she'll be f-f-fine."
"You of all people don't get a say here!" he snapped. "Not after that stunt you pulled on the first day. Students were meowing at her for two days!"
"Severus!" McGonagall hissed. "He didn't mean anything by it. If I were you I'd be more concerned about how your behaviour will affect her social life than his."
"Meaning?"
"Enough you two," Dumbledore said. "We're supposed to be setting an example. How are you finding classes this year, Professor Sprout?"
He should have been happy for the subject change, but he didn't care for the abrupt dismissal of Quirrell's behaviour. Perhaps he was on to Severus's surveillance during August and wanted to give him a reason to slip up. No one else seemed to find his behaviour suspicious and alienating Hermione might have served to turn his attention off Quirrell. Or perhaps Quirrell was just being antagonistic. But Severus only needed to look at the man's eyes to see he was hiding something.
There was nothing he could do about it for now. He would just have to keep an eye on him. He followed Quirrell's gaze to the seven Gryffindors, he might have delighted in tormenting his daughter, but it seemed Potter was the one who caught his attention. What do you want with that boy?
Did he miss another of those ill-fated exchanges? As his gaze followed Quirrell's to Potter, he saw Hermione say something to one of the twins, shrug and rise to leave. Those little idiots, he wished he could hear what they said to her during meals. He glanced at Quirrell from his peripheries and determined that he couldn't harm the boy while Dumbledore stood at the head of the table. He watched a group of sixth year Ravenclaws leave and figured that could be enough of a buffer.
"I'm afraid I have to leave," he excused himself.
Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Did he forget how slippery she could be when she wanted to evade detection? Did he even have a plan? It wasn't as if he could really offer comfort without drawing attention to her. And he had demanded names and details of those who were cruel to her in the past to no avail. So his instinct to seek retribution on her behalf wasn't exactly flawless.
It was fine, he just wanted to spot her and ensure she was fine. That worked within the terms of their agreement.
"I'm begging you, Dad," she pleaded. "No one else's parents will be hovering over them. I'll update you on Saturdays like you asked, but please, just pretend I don't exist through the week!"
"How the hell did I manage to raise such an insufferable child?!" he groaned. "Fine, I'll take your request under advisement. The instant you step out of line negotiations are off the table. Understood?"
He could have handled that better...but his daughter wanted nothing to do with him. How the hell was he supposed to take it? Befriending Potter should have been crossing a line, she knew what a nightmare his father was. Was this open defiance or pure naivete?
"No one else's parents will be hovering over them…"
Other parents did get involved in their children's school life! He had enough hate mail from parents over the years to prove it. Perhaps he should show her that and tell her to be grateful for the level of distance he did allow her.
That little idiot is going to burn out before the first term ends, he thought as he found Hermione pouring over a volume in the library while surreptitiously taking notes. He wondered if this was where she disappeared to after her fights with Potter and Weasley. She had plenty of work to pour herself into now, something she inherited from her birth parents, he was still certain.
Outside the desire to waste away over a collection of books, Hermione seemed fine. He was satisfied for now, but he would talk to her about this nonsense Saturday morning. He watched her from behind the bookcase for just a little while longer. It seemed it was only a short while ago he was teaching her how to read, it was somehow surreal seeing her pour over her school work, despite years of coming home to see her doing the same.
A sudden pang came over him as he found himself wishing for her childhood back. She's not exactly grown yet...I can't change the past, love, but I can at least ensure your childhood is better than mine was.
"I will do your homework for the term if you break my legs," Hermione offered the lot at lunch.
"You do know we're two years above you, right, Hermione?" Fred pointed out.
"If we wanted your father to kill us it'd be over something hilarious," George said. "Like switching his nose with an actual hook."
"Or place a bottle of shampoo on his desk," Fred suggested.
"You won't injure me and you're insulting my father?" Hermione scoffed. "I need better friends."
"We might be the best you got, kitten," Lee shrugged.
"You're hilarious, Lee," Hermione murmured. "I hope you don't spend all your 'A' material on me before the first Quidditch match."
"Kitten's got bite," George observed.
"What about you, Ron?" Hermione asked leaning over to see him and Harry. "Live your fantasy, kill me!"
"After showing off in every other class I don't see why you want to skip out on the one fun class," Ron groaned.
"My feet belong firmly on the ground," she told him.
"You're not excited at all about flight?" Harry asked.
"No, Harry," she groaned. "I'm begging classmates to maim me because I'm clearly thrilled at the prospect. Honestly!"
"And I'm innocently asking you about it because I'm clearly thrilled at the prospect of being snapped at. Honestly, Hermione!" he mimicked her tone. "I was just trying to be friendly."
Hermione turned her gaze to her plate."Sorry," she whispered.
"I don't know why you bother with that one, mate," Ron said.
"Erm, Hermione," Fred started.
"Remember when you asked us to tell you when you were being a bitch?" George asked.
"Well..." Fred said.
Hermione shrank in her seat. "I get it! I get it! I'm a bitch!"
"Your words, not ours," George offered.
"I know."
The owl post came and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They could focus on that for the next half-hour. She watched others open care packages and letters from friends and family and scrambled to read over George's shoulder. The four had spent the past week reading through the news together. Finally, the front page was something important. And frightening.
"Looks like there was a break in at Gringotts last month," Lee announced.
"Really?" Ron said, craning his neck.
"But Hagrid said that was the safest place on the planet second to Hogwarts," Harry noted.
"It is," Hermione told him, reading the article over Lee's shoulder. "Whoever did it really wanted whatever was in volt 317. They would have gotten it too if it wasn't transferred to an undisclosed location back in August."
"317!" Harry gasped. "But that's..." he lowered his voice and spoke to Ron.
Hermione strained her hearing, but Dean Thomas's voice cut her off.
"Whoa, cool!"
"My Gran gave it to me," Neville said, holding a glass orb filled with misty smoke. "She knows I'm always forgetting things."
"What is it?" Dean asked.
"It's a remembrall," Hermione leaned over and spoke gently. "I've read about those. The smoke turns scarlet if you've forgotten something. It's neat." Shit, did I just speak over Neville?
As if on bloody cue, the smoke turned red.
"Now I need to figure out what it is I've forgotten." Neville gave a nervous chuckle.
Everyone who heard him laughed but Harry and Hermione. She didn't imagine they were trying to be cruel, not like that first class, but it still had the same effect on Neville that the laughter had on Hermione back then. Okay, the timing was funny, but it was still unfair.
A raven flew through the window and landed in front of Hermione. Who would be writing me now?
"Is that a raven?" Ron asked. "Who's sending you death omens?"
"I don't think so!" Hermione rolled her eyes petting the raven's head after taking the letter. "Ravens are used instead of owls in East Asia and-oh!"
Hiro wrote her back! She thought he would quit again after her silence, but she felt her heart race. Until she remembered that her father would also surely know how a raven came to her. I might as well have one good thing today.
Hermi-chan!
The nickname sent a flush to her cheeks. She was teasing him when she wrote that. Chan, familiarity. Maybe he did like her. Sure, they'd never meet, but she could have this.
"Are you blushing?" George teased.
"Did our kitten get a love letter?" Fred pinched her cheek.
"No, Fred," Hermione said, folding the letter. She'd have to read it later. "It's a kill order. Your brother was right, the raven was a death omen. I wouldn't drink that tea if I were you."
Three o'clock came and Hermione prepared herself for hell as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into an open courtyard. She didn't want to be yet another Gryffindor with a pathological hatred for Slytherins, but the six lined up in opposite all seemed awful. Pansy Parkinson stood beside a sharp-faced blond boy who acted like he owned the school. Draco Malfoy. Her father hadn't given her much in the way of social advice, but he did tell her that the Malfoys were a very powerful family and that her best move was to stay out of his way.
Something she was very happy to do, she was happy to pretend the entitled prat didn't exist. Though Harry and Ron didn't seem to get the memo. They seemed to antagonise each other at every turn.
When instructed to command their brooms, Hermione wanted to die. All hers did was roll over. Harry's landed firmly in his grasp as if he had done this hundreds of times. Even Ron's rose further than hers, true, his broom landed firmly on his nose, but he still did better. She bit back her laughter, and turned to see Malfoy's broom faltering. Ha!Turn and cough! she thought that too soon as Malfoy's broom was the second to reach his hand.
Hermione knew flight lessons would be a disaster, but she had no idea how much of a disaster. Neville's broom decided to take off in his broom like a panicked horse. Perhaps it felt his fear, but whatever the reason he found himself high above them, whipping around with no sense of purpose.
Do something, idiot, if you're clever you can save him! But she couldn't make herself move. She stood watching him, her breath frozen in her lungs.
Neville crashed into the stone walls and found himself hanging from the collar of his robes until he hit the grass with a sickening snap.
Go to him! As she got her feet to move Madam Hooch was already by his side.
Hooch took him to the hospital with the dire warning that a single broom in the air would promptly earn the rider's expulsion. Not a threat the oh-so-cool Draco Malfoy took seriously. Hermione became acutely aware of how much she loathed the school's untouchables.
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Parvarti Patil said. "Give it back."
"I didn't know you also had a thing for fat cry babies, Patil!" Pansy Parkinson cackled. "Looks like you have competition, Hermione!"
"Jesus Christ!" Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped her head. We're on a first name basis now? What happened to ugly, stupid bitch? "Come up with some new material, Pansy. Give the damn thing to us, Malfoy, and all of this will be forgotten."
"I wonder which of our fathers I should explain your threat to, kitten," Malfoy mused. "Though I think you look more like a squirrel with those teeth and that hair."
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron and Harry repeated Pavarti's sentiment.
"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry said, holding out his hand.
"If you want it, Potter, come and get it!"
Malfoy mounted his broom and launched himself far above the grassy training grounds.
Harry grabbed his broom and mounted it. He was going to rise to Malfoy's taunt.
"Harry, wait!" Hermione hissed. "Let the moron get himself expelled. Trust me, you'll be doing the whole damn school a favour. Don't give anyone a reason to go after you. Please!"
"Come off it!" he hissed back. "You just want someone who stands out more than you to stick around."
"Fine, get yourself expelled!"
That was exactly what she thought he did when McGonagall of all people marched into the courtyard demanding Harry come with her. Silence pervaded the courtyard as they walked out inside in silence, Harry with his head hung. Hermione's stomach churned. She mulled over what she could have done to prevent this. Maybe if she'd...no, there was nothing she could do. Now, they got to listen to Malfoy brag about getting "the famous Harry Potter" expelled.
"Fuck!" Hermione whispered.
To her surprise Ron had said the exact same thing with her.
"You two should watch your language," Hooch said from behind them. "Where's Mr Potter?"
"Probably won't be something you have to worry about for long!" Malfoy sang.
Ron clenched his fist and glared at Malfoy. Hermione wasn't sure what he was about to do, but she grabbed his arm before he had the chance to launch an attack. "Don't!" she hissed in his ear. "His father has the power to make your life hell as well as your entire family."
"But-"
"I'll come up with something, I promise."
"I'll hold you to it!" Ron hissed back.
"Oh, Hermione," Pansy mimicked concern. "Taking up with his brothers doesn't mean if you have to take up with him too. Poor thing."
Hermione released his hand and mimicked Pansy's tone. "Oh, I was just telling Ron that I so hope Draco Malfoy isn't in too, too much trouble for showing off his flying while Madam Hooch was gone. Poor Pansy, I'm sure you could do better than taking up with that show-off."
"Is it true that you were up in the air, Mr Malfoy?"
"It is true!" Pavarti cried.
She was joined by the rest of the Gryffindors corroborating the story. Malfoy stole Neville's remembrall, Harry pursued him only to get it back. The Slytherins denied it. Hooch took ten points from both houses and threatened to put each and every one of them in a week's detention if they said another word.
"Hermione," Ron whispered as they left the courtyard.
"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know Pansy Parkinson would pull that-"
"Just tell me you're not really taking up with Fred or George," his ears turned pink once more.
I'm eleven! I'm not taking up with anyone! "It's none of your damn business!" she hissed. "I have to go visit Neville."
Hermione waited with Fred, George, a newly discharged Neville and Lee in the common room as they did homework. She looked up from her own homework to help Neville with his here and there. Between sentences she glanced up to see Ron pacing the length of the common room like an agitated cat. She wanted to say something to comfort him, or assure him she was as nervous about Harry as he was. But Ron couldn't stand her. And she wasn't sure she blamed him.
"Erm-Ron?" she squeaked approaching him.
"What could you possibly want?" he snapped. "You told my brothers you wanted to be told when you were being a bitch? Well, there hasn't been a time you haven't been one since I met you!"
Everyone in the common room stared at him, their mouths agape. Luckily, only the six of them were there at the time. No one who would be likely to spread rumours about their fight. Something she was grateful for when tears sprang to her eyes. Shit!
"Nothing," she shrank back. "It doesn't matter. Sorry."
Hermione capped her inkwell and started stuffing her homework into her bag.
"Hermione," Fred began.
"You don't have to go because Ron's a git," George finished.
"George!" Ron snapped. "I'm your brother!"
"And still a git!" George said.
"Apologize, Ron," Fred ordered.
"Leave him alone, guys," Hermione choked. "It's not him, I'm just not feeling well. It's probably just something I ate, I'll see you tomorrow," she ran to the stairs to the girl's dormitory.
"Hermione!" Lee called.
She turned back, praying the tears stayed in her eyes and were hidden enough by her hair. "For what it's worth, McGonagall has always been a good judge of character. She'll know Harry was just trying to help," she turned to the table with the twins, Lee and Neville. "Don't order people to apologize to me. I can take care of myself."
Hermione waited on the staircase with her head poking out from the spiral to see when Harry returned. Ron continued pacing like an agitated animal and the others ignored him. They were so close before, did Hermione drive a wedge between them? She hadn't meant to, she just-No, sod on him! Ron has been treating you like rubbish since you had the audacity to help him on the train. I do not feel sorry for that prat! What if he's right though...? Hermione placed her face in her hands and let the tears fall. She was hiding and it was late, if she were quiet, no one would know.
"Harry!" the lot of them shouted.
Hermione quickly dried her eyes with her sleeves and peaked beyond the wall.
"You're not expelled, mate?" Ron exclaimed.
"No," Harry said, his face bright with disbelief. "Actually quite the opposite. McGonagall had me training with Oliver Wood. I guess I'm the new Gryffindor Seeker."
"That's fantastic, Harry!" Lee shouted.
"People are sleeping, you git!" Fred teased.
"You'll be playing on the same team as me and Fred," George smirked.
"We're beaters!"
"Sorry?" Harry asked.
"We make sure you don't get thrown off your broom!" George explained.
"Or fracture all your bones!" Fred added.
"This is amazing!" Ron threw an arm around his shoulders. "You'll be the youngest Seeker in-in-"
"A century, McGonnagal told me," Harry said, almost sheepishly.
Seeker? If literally anyone else tried to get Neville's remembrall they would have been expelled or at least put in detention. You got rewarded for it? No, Hermione stopped herself. He had no idea this would happen, he's still a good person, even with special treatment. He didn't want any of this. So why am I so angry about it?
Because I'm my father's daughter...Maybe Ron was right about me.
Hermione made sure her eyes were firmly covered and kept her head down as she ascended the stairs pretending to read her copy of Standard Book of Spells Grade One. Once she got into the first-year girl's dorm she changed into her nightdress behind her bed curtains and tried to remember the light spell.
"Lumos," she whispered. She then sprawled out and read Hiro's letter.
Hermi-chan!
Are you excited about starting school? Or perhaps you did by time this reaches you. I haven't heard from you for some time. Is everything okay? Kaori's been teasing me about you. Mamma too. We're back to boarding in September too, it should be easier to get letters to each other. Well, between all the work we'll have to do! I did read your book over August Break and I loved it! I'm already on the second volume (In Japanese though!). My favourite subject is Transfiguration thus far. I've gotten good at it. Mochi is not happy I'm back to classes, you should see how she whines!
Did you like the manga? What's your favourite class? Do you have any pets? I can't wait to here back from you!
Until Later,
Hiro-kun!
P.S. There's a Japanese copy to help you with Kanji and Hiragana!
Hermione reread the short letter. Hiro-kun! Hermione's understanding of Japanese customs were out of sorts, but she wanted to feel like the "kun" suffix was like "chan". Maybe a little less intimate...or is it only for boys? She didn't have too much to go off of, but was it possible he liked her as much as she liked him? So few letters, but everyone of them seemed so sweet and honest. Hiro Yamato had to be the single sweetest person on the planet, and she could not be convinced otherwise.
It's nothing more than a series of letters. You have no idea what he's like! Despite telling herself that, she fell asleep clutching the letter to her chest. I can keep the fantasy alive for a while yet.
"I couldn't help but notice you received a raven yesterday at lunch," Severus mentioned as Hermione closed the door behind her.
"About that," Hermione sighed. "I-"
"I had planned on telling you that I didn't see the harm in the correspondence with the Yamato boy, after all," he leaned against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "You know, Hermione, it's quite funny. I had been racking my brain trying to figure out if you had done a single courageous thing in your life when you were sorted. Then it occurred to me that there is a very thin line between courage and stupidity, and you, my dear, crossed it. How long?"
"Sorry, sir?"
"Did I stutter, little girl?" he said. "How long have you been writing this boy behind my back?"
"I-erm-" she bit her lip and shrank against the wall. She wrung her hands together and stared at the ground.
"Are you planning on telling me sometime this millennium, young lady? Or should I start stock-piling food?"
"Since July!" she squeaked. "But there were no exchanges in August!"
"July?!" he scoffed. "You've been lying to me for two months?!"
Hermione now looked as if she was trying to melt into the wall. He might have felt bad for the girl had she not deliberately disobeyed him. It wasn't like Severus liked that his child was terrified of him. He much preferred it when he was a source of comfort, but she did this to herself.
"Omission isn't lying," Hermione clasped her hands together and straightened her spine. "If it was, then I would have every right to be upset with you."
"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!" he shouted. "I will not be tolerating any of your cheek after what you've done!"
"Yes, sir," she muttered.
Where the hell is this coming from? He couldn't help but think of the tiny girl who hung on his every word and scrambled to spend time with him. Hermione was cheeky, a bit of a know-it-all, but also helpful, obedient and caring. Until now she had never engaged in an outward act of defiance. That I know of.
A moment of silence passed between them and he noticed Hermione's expression and posture soften. She now titled her head and placed a hand on her cheek. She gently shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh.
"I'm sorry, Dad," she said. "I know I should have talked to you about it when I considered it. You had a reason for forbidding it, just like you had a reason to change your mind. I should have respected that."
How was she always the first to back down, but he always felt like he lost? Hermione could be fuming or in tears and moments later collect herself enough to speak with a calm and patient tone. Though he could hear the faltering in her voice, and at the moment he could see how upset she was behind the composed sympathetic mask. He didn't doubt she was sorry, nor did he doubt she gave a damn about his feelings, but he could see the stubborn rage that she was trying so hard to bury. You never did like admitting when you were angry. That might be my fault, I can admit that.
"The damage is already done," he sighed. "And I did reconsider my position on the matter. You may continue to contact the boy."
"Really?" Hermione nearly squealed, clasping her hands together once more. "Thank you! I swear this will not happen again!"
"I know it won't," he replied coolly. "Because I know you would simply loathe spending every afternoon and evening in detention until June. Of course, followed by the summer confined to your bedroom."
"Yes, sir," she nodded.
"That being said," he continued. "You still broke the rules. I expect you to be here every Friday after your classes end for the rest of the month."
"Yes, sir," she said.
"And I am writing to the boy's parents and the headmaster of Mahoukatoro. I won't be having you continue to correspond with a boy I know nothing about."
Hermione bit her lower lip and shifted her eyes to the lower right. He waited for the inevitable 'why' that came after that expression, but to his surprise she straightened her posture and nodded with a prompt "Yes, sir."
"While we are on the subject of boys," he began.Calm down, he told himself as he beckoned her forward. These past two weeks have been hell for her. "I can't say I'm thrilled about the ones you have seen fit to surround yourself with."
"The Weasley twins, Lee Jordan and Neville Longbottom?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "They're completely harmless, Dad. And probably the kindest people I have met in my life."
"And had you any sustained interactions with someone other than myself and my colleagues before this year you might be a more reliable judge of 'kind'," he explained. "As it stands now, you've given that title to three chronic miscreants and a boy whom I'm certain will take advantage of your naivete to avoid doing any work himself. Please tell me you are not so damn naive that you would extend that honour to Potter and the youngest Weasley?"
"With all due respect, sir," Hermione started.
I never like what follows those words...why are you doing this, Hermione?
"Harry and Ron are nice. I know that there was that hiccup in flight lessons, but they're not terribly different than the rest of the boys. I know Harry's father was a bit of a bully (You don't know the half of it, love, he thought bitterly.), but he's nothing like that!"
"A hiccup in flight lessons is a student injuring themselves or vomiting," he groaned. "Deliberately disobeying a teacher's orders, showing-off, demanding you cover for him and being rewarded with a coveted position on the Quidditch team isn't a hiccup. It's a power-move, something you'd recognise if you weren't so bloody desperate to make everyone like you!"
"Dad, he had no idea that's what would happen. He was just trying to help Neville-" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Demanded we cover for him? Whatever version you got of the story was clearly altered. Even if he wanted to-which I doubt he did-he wouldn't have had time to demand anything of us before Professor McGonagall called him. I don't know where you got your information from, but evidently something morphed between tellings. I was there, I can tell you everything you want to know."
"The version I heard hadn't the chance to be morphed organically," he stated. "And what reason would Draco Malfoy have to lie to me?" Even if I don't entirely believe his version myself.
"Of course it was him!" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose with an exasperated sigh. "I don't know why he would bother telling you anything when he knew he would get away with it."
"Professor McGonagall gave me Potter's version of events and suggested I speak to the boy about acceptable behaviours myself. That was when he gave me his version of the story. Which is much more in line with Potter's character than the version I was originally given."
Hermione buried her face in her hands and grumbled a short phrase in a language he didn't understand before sighing and establishing eye-contact. "Any chance you would like the account of a neutral third-party?"
Severus examined Hermione, so frustrated and tired, as if she hadn't a moment to rest in weeks. She probably hadn't, only two weeks, and she already had dark rings circling her eyes and her usually warm olive skin paled. Something he hadn't noticed before, not with her penchant for burying her face in her hands, her hair or finding any other reason to avoid eye-contact with others. How long would he worry about her growing into a woman she had no memory of? Maybe she wasn't obsessing over school work and more concerned with the social aspects of her new normal, but that didn't ease his worries.
"I'm unsure how neutral your account would truly be," he said, crossing his arms. "Two weeks and I feel like those boys have already wormed their way into your little head."
"You don't trust me?" she swallowed, clearly hurt.
"Do I trust the girl who spent two months writing a boy behind my back, only admitted to her offence once caught and followed her admission by saying 'omission isn't lying?'" he mused. "Now why would I not trust someone like that?"
"I deserved that." Hermione looked down, he swore he could feel the shame radiating from her in waves.
He sighed and placed a hand on the top of her head. "I simply do not understand why you are defending these boys after they've treated you so poorly, love."
"Excuse me, sir?" Hermione asked with what seemed to be genuine confusion.
"Potter, and the Weasleys, particularly the youngest one," he explained. "Your interactions seem less than ideal."
"Fred and George have been nothing but sweet-erm-to me at least," Hermione narrowed her eyes again. "You haven't met Harry or Ron, why are you so sure you have an understanding of what they're like? And why do you think I'm being mistreated?"
"Hmm, let's see," he mused, tapping his lower lip with his free hand dramatically. "During the sorting feast the youngest Weasley said something to make you bury your face, you've left every meal thus far early following some comment by Potter or Weasley, the boy grabbed your arm to whisper something to you as you were leaving flight, and the two seem to be hissing instructions or mouthing obscene things to you in the corridors. Am I missing anything?"
Hermione buried her face in her hands again before collapsing them before her and inhaling sharply. "The way I'm reacting now is exactly how I reacted when Ron asked why we look so different. I'll hand it to him, it was better than the girl who asked if I was Asian or African a few years back." She lifted her head. "I'm leaving meals because I'm terrified of falling behind. True, it's only been two weeks, but the instant I let myself slip I just know I'll fail everything. The comments you see from them? It's normally a comment on how early it is in the term. I'm used to being considered mental at this point. The whispered or mouthed things in the corridors? Normally me indicating the school's untouchables before one of them does something stupid like letting themselves be provoked. Not always effectively, I'm afraid. Am I missing anything?"
"The cheek, Hermione Elizabeth," he said. "I can do without it. Unless you're looking to add Wednesdays and Thursdays to your punishment."
"Yes, sir," she sighed.
Not the truth in its entirety, he thought, but I suppose this is the best I'll get from her. "Tell me, Hermione," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you adjusting?"
The next week dragged on and Severus still adjusted poorly. Early mornings were empty, afternoons and evenings far too quiet. Yet it all seemed so unreal. He buried himself in his work when he wasn't keeping an eye glued to Quirrell. He knew the man was up to something, how often had he disappeared to mutter something to himself? Severus wondered if he knew about the stone. Dumbledore swore he didn't, and even asked if he was still bearing a grudge about the kitten comment or the job. He remembered why he was hesitant to come forward with his suspicions after that. Even if it was true that he was still upset that Quirrell was chosen over him, he wouldn't try to turn others against him, he had other ways of dealing with such things. The same could be said of the kitten comment, seeing students meow at Hermione or beckon her with "here, kitty, kitty" did fill him with rage, but it didn't make him suspicious of Quirrell. Quirrell's behaviour made Severus suspicious. His eyes were glued on Potter, he seemed very curious about the third floor, and though he couldn't put his finger on why, the man's stutter didn't seem sincere.
Friday commenced as usual, he prepared for his classes, went to breakfast and split his attention between Quirrell, Potter and Hermione. Like clockwork, the morning post came and a raven landed in front of Hermione (Was she getting letters once a week now?). He had to start on those letters to the boy's parents and headmaster. He'd have to ask Hermione how proficient they were in English. The Weasley twins nudged her from either side and Lee Jordan joined in on the teasing. The Longbottom boy asked her something, she shook her head, Weasley also asked her something, she rolled her eyes, picked up her book and mail. This time she laughed with a light shrug. She waved a dismissive hand and left beside a second-year Ravenclaw girl, the two seeming two giggle at something.
His attention returned to the boys, each of them jovial as they greedily took to their meals. Ten years of eating only with Hermione, he couldn't help but contrast the way she gingerly picked at her food to the way the boys around her ate. Was it a girl thing perhaps? No, it's a 'your daughter is a nervous wreck' thing, and you are entirely to blame! He pushed it from his mind and tried not to let Quirrell see his eyes shift to him. The man ate in silence listening to Flitwick drone on about a novel series he was reading. Quirrell feigned attention until, but his eyes did dart to the Potter boy every now and then. Severus was content to observe and listen until he heard the name of the novel.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But I couldn't help but overhear. I find it absolutely fascinating that you and my eleven-year-old have the same favourite novel series."
"Oh, ha ha!" Flitwick said. "I'm allowed to enjoy things, Severus. I'm hardly the only adult waiting eagerly for the fifth book."
"I'll tell you what I told Hermione," he teased. "Don't get your hopes up. It's been four years. I think the author has given up on the series."
"Has it really been that long?"
Severus suddenly was ambushed by the memory of reading the first book to a five-year-old Hermione. He'd confiscated it from a student and forgot to give it back to the boy before the last day of classes. After he and Hermione had more or less memorized every word in Dumbledore's old volume of Beetle and the Bard, he gave her the old beat up copy of Son of Hermes. They took turns reading chapters, Hermione required help with some words getting embarrassed every time she mispronounced something or didn't know the definition of a word. Even with the frustration, she still beamed with excitement every night before crawling into his lap with the abused paperback in her hands. When was the last time he saw her light up like that?
When I told her she could continue exchanging letters with the Yamato boy...Eleven-years-old and I've already been replaced with a boy. That wasn't fair, she never met the boy, and at her age she wasn't plotting to run off with some boy. The worrying about the political state, about her becoming ill again, about some unseen enemy in the shadows. He understood all of that, but it was simply stupid that he was so worried about being replaced.
"I will not have foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class!" he said going into his usual first year spiel. He seemed to have their attention during it, save Potter who seemed to be composing a note to Weasley.
He ran down the register mentally as per usual and swallowed upon seeing Hermione's name. He looked up to see her sitting near the back between Potter and Longbottom. He thought it was real when he saw her board the train, again he thought he'd get it through his head when he saw her being sorted, but seeing her in his classroom, it just didn't seem right. Some part of him expected her to be little forever. Hell, he still saw a four-year-old when he looked at her. He pushed the idea from his mind and began reading from the register aloud.
"Mr Harry Potter," he smirked as he came to his name.
He rattled off questions and the boy shrank saying "I don't know, sir," to each one. It was clear at that point the only thing the boy received from his mother were his eyes. He wondered briefly if she would be disappointed that he couldn't answer the questions nor read between the lines of what he was saying. No, she would simply be upset at my behaviour. Like his father, I'm certain to her and everyone else the boy could do no wrong. He'll not receive such treatment from me. He turned to a once again shrinking Hermione treating her hair like an invisibility cloak. Once you know him you won't disapprove of my behaviour, I'm certain. But if you're so eager to be upset with me then...
"Care to help the great Harry Potter, my dear?" he asked her.
He regretted drawing attention to her as soon as the hushed sniggers escaped from her classmates. Hermione simply couldn't make herself small enough, her face nearly touching her desk, and he was certain that underneath it she had been reopening the scars on the back of her hands. He imagined she was once again biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He mentally cursed her birth-parents again and was about to dismiss the question when she began mumbling, answering all his questions correctly and in the order in which he asked. After which she all but slammed her head against her desk. At this point she was anywhere but the classroom.
"For the vast majority of you who aren't close enough to hear what she said..." he repeated her answers at a volume that could register in human hearing and turned back to Potter. "During the course of the summer that child painted the mural in the entrance hall, saw the inventory of several professors, renewed a decade's worth of vital documents, assisted in the archives and learned Japanese (albeit behind my back). Yet she still found the time to pull a book off a shelf from time to time. What, pray tell, kept you from summer reading? Clearly, you don't understand the work required to succeed in this school goes beyond the cultivation of fools' worship. If you bothered to pay attention you might have been able to answer a few simple questions. "
Potter looked at Hermione beside him, whose face was still firmly planted on her desk refusing to acknowledge anything that happened around her. He then re-established eye-contact with him, a familiar flame flashed in his eyes. "Clearly, you don't understand that most of us might have only a few weeks to do our readings and would have prioritised refreshing material for classes that have tests coming up. And if you bothered to pay attention you might have been able to notice that Hermione didn't want to answer 'a few simple questions'. No one else seemed interested in drawing attention to themselves either."
"And yet you seem plenty content to draw attention to yourself," he sneered. "That'll be ten points from Gryffindor for Potter's cheek."
That had the opposite effect of his intent. He had thought that might earn Potter scorn and Hermione some pity from her classmates. Instead the fools looked on him with adoration and Hermione seemed to get her wish to be invisible. Which quickly changed when he told the lot to partner up for the practical portion of the class. He hovered around but chose not to intervene.
"If you're so capable I'm sure you can do it all yourself!" Weasley hissed at Hermione when she offered.
She rolled her eyes and turned to Longbottom who had already paired himself with Seamus Finnegan.
Kindest people you've ever met, love? You and I are going to have to have a very long conversation about these boys and what is actually acceptable behaviour!
"Dean!" she whispered.
Dean Thomas looked around for a better option until giving a resigned nod. Watching the pair work, it didn't exactly seem like Thomas was forcing her to do all the work, but Hermione had at so many points said "It's okay, I got it!" or something of the like with a weak smile. Was she trying to impress him? No, she wanted the boy and perhaps the class to see that she would do whatever they required. Hermione's damn near pathological people pleasing seemed to be her attempts to separate herself from Severus in their eyes. No, she simply wanted their approval and would do anything for it. It had nothing to do with him or how he raised her. He was not looking forward to when she started dating if that behaviour didn't change.
It'll be a very long conversation, indeed.
Severus had been paying attention to the wrong pair. While Hermione worked deftly, smiling and nodding at whatever Thomas said when he felt the mood to speak with her, Longbottom and Finnegan had concocted an acidic yellow liquid that twisted the iron cauldron on the desk into something muggles called "modern art" and melted the top layer of the stone floor and the soles of the students shoes. Longbottom shrank before a scowling Finnegan and Severus knew exactly whose fault this was.
"IDIOT BOY!"
The disaster of a class ended and the idiots gleefully charged from his classroom like prisoners after a pardon. Hermione even managed to slip away in the mass before he could ask her to stay. He took the most direct route to the staircase and squeezed himself next to a wall. If the little shits were going to give her a hard time he wanted to know exactly what was being said.
"No wonder you're so..." Weasley scoffed but failed to finish his sentence. "I almost feel bad for you!"
"I do feel bad for you," Longbottom said.
"I know you lot are very angry," Hermione said to Potter, Weasley and Longbottom in a small voice. "I had no idea he was going to do that! I know he hated Harry's dad, but that was-and Neville-oh god-the things he said to you-" she sighed. "I'm so, so bloody sorry! He's not normally so-erm- I simply don't know what got into him!"
"Fred and George told me this is normal," Weasley groaned. "You can't tell me you didn't expect this, or are you that stupid?"
"Not to this extent," her voice became small again. "I should go, but I am really sorry."
"Wait, Hermione," Potter said, taking her arm. "Snape hated my dad? Why?"
"I'm sorry, Harry," she shrank under his gaze. "I-erm-I don't know."
Oh, no, Daddy, these boys are just so sweet, you should see how they grab and corner me when I try to make my escape! he thought bitterly. He saw enough, he was going to step in when Potter released her.
"Sorry, Hermione," Potter said.
Damn, Potter, you almost sound sincere. Lay a hand on her again and everything your father did to me will seem kind.
"You just want to know something about the parents you never met," Hermione forced a sympathetic smile. "I know, it can be all consuming. But please, you three, I'm begging you not to judge him too harshly based on today. He's not a bad person, just-" she sighed again. "Please, just give him a chance. And I'm really, really sorry about class."
Hermione disappeared up the stairs and the boys lingered.
"'I simply don't know what got into him!'" Weasley squeaked. "Merlin's saggy bollocks! You'd think she was his parent!"
Potter laughed. "Now that all the Gryffindors in our year will be avoiding her, maybe you should be nicer to her?"
"I should be nicer to her?" Weasley scoffed. "Maybe if she considered apologizing about the things she said instead of apologising for her monster of a father, I'd consider it."
"You don't think he's mean to her like that too, do you?" Longbottom asked in a small voice.
"No way," Weasley grumbled. "Not after bragging about all her accomplishments over the summer. I'm certain Daddy's precious kitten is treated like a little princess! That's the only way she could defend him like that. Think she spends a second defending us to him (Not that you idiots deserve it, but yes!)? Oh, and if she knew Snape hated your dad so much, why didn't she warn you? She had plenty of bloody time! I honestly have no clue what Fred and George see in her!"
"I don't know," Potter mused. "He might have been bragging, but Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. It doesn't matter, we're going to be late."
"He's not a bad person, he just- "...She couldn't even finish that sentence, Severus didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of him, but his own daughter couldn't find something? No, those boys had her cornered and nervous. It still stung. What was worse were the impassioned pleas after he knowingly dragged her into his attempts to hurt Potter. She knew what he was doing, even if those idiots thought he was bragging. "You'd think she was his parent!" Hermione did defend him in ways he'd seen mothers defend their children in letters. Was Weasley on to something? Did Hermione somehow feel responsible for him? It certainly sounded that way. Maybe she did think he was as cruel as they did? That might explain why she gravitated toward such cruel individuals. He'd have to suss out how to navigate it another Friday evening. For now he had other matters to attend to.