Chapter 32
It wasn't until lunchtime that first day, that Hermione began to feel rather more than just discombobulated. It had been a strange, but not unpleasant night with the professor, and she could not have said that she hadn't enjoyed the close contact, but Snape had mentally been elsewhere during their time together.
After pulling her to the bedroom, he had wordlessly silenced her with small kisses when she'd tried to talk; and had simply pulled her into the large bed after him, both fully clothed, spelled the eiderdown over the top over their bodies, and spooned behind her, stroking her hair behind her ear and dropping small kisses upon it. She supposed this was the taciturn wizard's way of saying he didn't want to talk, without actually explaining that.
Hermione had been so tired that she'd welcomed the slumber; and tucked in close to the person she wanted to be with above all other, well, that had been fine with her.
In the morning, he had arisen before her, and she was awakened by him leaving the bathroom, showered and already dressed, apart from his outer robes and boots. He had stood next to the bed, looking down at her with a curious look upon his face, one she could not read, or fathom. It wasn't angry, or sad, frustrated or even curious. It had just been – odd. He'd quietly told her that the Floo connection to her room was open, and that he had an early start that morning, before dipping his head to bid her farewell.
They had not spoken further about her cutting her time left at Hogwarts by a term, with her now due to leave in three months, rather than nearly seven, had she stayed until the end of the school year. Hermione did not know how Snape felt about it, or even if it bothered him at all. He had said they were fulfilling a mutual need; and had been very vehement that she must not love him. Perhaps he did not even care.
This had led to the peculiar, slightly unsettled feeling that she'd held in her stomach, and that had only increased with the events of the morning lessons.
Her first class, Ancient Runes, had been notably missing one Pansy Parkinson, which Hermione could bear rather cheerfully, for the beautiful yet volatile Slytherin girl made no effort to disguise her contempt and dislike for Hermione, if not Gryffindors in general. Professor Babbling had announced that Miss Parkinson had opted not to return to Hogwarts, would be taking her complimentary NEWTs, and "was sure" that the rest of the class wished Pansy every success in the future. The disparaging tone of the low-level whispering that followed, suggested that not everyone shared Professor Babbling's enthusiasm for Miss Parkinson's future plans.
During morning break, Hermione had returned to the guest corridor to dump her Ancient Runes texts and pick up the pile of books she needed for Charms and Transfiguration; and had met Draco Malfoy coming out of his own room across from her, his arms full of similar texts. The door to Pansy Parkinson's room was wide open, and it seemed the chamber was being thoroughly cleaned by a team of house-elves. It was noticeably empty of all Pansy's belongings. Both she and Draco looked towards the open doorway.
"Does her departure have anything to do with you?" Hermione asked, nodding her head towards the room.
Draco pulled a series of faces that suggested he was about to come out with a smart-mouthed answer. Then he sighed.
"Who knows? I mean, I think she only returned to school because I did, so with us broken up, I suppose there's nothing here for her anymore," he replied, giving a half smile. "And before you lecture me, Granger, there was no way to make that sentence sound any less arrogant."
She laughed.
"I suppose not. But she's really gone, then? What's she going to be doing now?"
"She has. Her parents are still around, not sitting on a rock in the North Sea, so she has a home, and family. No idea what Bulstrode is going to do though."
"Millicent?"
"Yeah, she's gone too. To be fair, I don't think she was doing too well with the academia, she only really came back because her parents are in Azkaban and she had nothing else to do. Like me, just rattling around in the family home without a family."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he shrugged. "Everyone made their own choices. I wouldn't be surprised if Bulstrode ran to ground and ended up in the muggle world. Having known that witch for seven years, I can tell you there was very little magical talent."
They both secured their chamber doors, and walked together through the stone corridors, heading for the Transfiguration classroom, wondering aloud whether McGonagall would still be teaching, or whether a new professor had been found.
"Did you hear about Briner's sentence?" Draco asked, as they walked. "Five years, that's all."
"I did," she replied. "I know there were many who felt it wasn't long enough."
"They should leave him there to rot, with the other animals," he hissed, and Hermione was surprised at his harshness. Then again, it had involved his brand new girlfriend being subjected to a nasty attack, even if the actual rape itself had been prevented.
"May I ask, how is Astoria?"
Draco swivelled his head towards her, his blue eyes pained as he touched her arm to stop her walking.
"She doesn't want to see me," he sighed. "I understand why, Merlin, I understand why. But … I just … I just wish I could make amends."
"I can understand that. Perhaps, give her time? Let her know you're here for her when and if she is ready?"
Draco rolled his eyes and set off walking again.
"Funnily enough, Granger, I had thought of that. I wasn't asking for advice."
"My apologies for breathing, Malfoy, this is called the art of conversation, perhaps you should try it sometime?" she shot back, huffily, as she bounded ahead to keep up with his long stride.
They continued their long walk to the Transfiguration classroom in silence, although Hermione felt that it remained relatively good natured, with Draco flicking a roll of parchment back on the top of her pile after it fluttered adrift. When they reached the Transfiguration classroom, they were gratified to see McGonagall there on the platform, the blackboard filled with her careful handwriting, and an exciting assortment of object spread out on the desk in front of her. She couldn't help grinning at the thought of the interesting lesson they had ahead, which was returned with a smile from the Headmistress.
"For old times sake?" Draco asked, gesturing towards the desk they had shared several times during Professor Briner's lessons, and pulling out a chair for Hermione with an exaggerated flourish.
"I do hope, Mr Malfoy, that your ebullient mood from your Christmas holiday will cease once I begin teaching?" called Professor McGonagall from the front of the room, noticing his attempt at horseplay.
"Absolutely, Headmistress," replied Draco, with a big smile and a large dollop of charm, sitting down in the wooden chair next to Hermione and opening his Transfiguration textbook dutifully.
Hermione was certain she saw the corners of McGonagall's mouth twitch, and bit down on the corner of her own to avoid joining in. She too pulled out the textbook, inked her quill, and chanced a look around the class before teaching began. There was no Susan or Hannah, as they had both withdrawn from the class whilst Briner was teaching, and now Susan had left entirely. Hermione hoped that now Briner was gone, Hannah would return to Transfiguration, but it seemed that hadn't happened as yet. The older Ravenclaws were all here, along with Ernie MacMillan, but no Pansy or Millicent. Their numbers were dwindling.
As Hermione sat at the lunch table, she recalled that thought, as she tried to process what Neville and Hannah were earnestly telling her, over a cheese and pickle sandwich.
Hannah was red-eyed, but full of clarity, as she told Hermione that since Christmas she had been thinking more and more about not returning to Hogwarts, about taking her complimentary NEWT certificates and starting her adult life properly away from the school. She had enjoyed her holiday job in the Leaky Cauldron so much, and Tom had offered her a permanent position there. Hannah had no lofty ambitions; she was a quiet and sweet girl who wanted to live happily and simply.
Neville cut in, explaining that Hermione already knew he was considering taking the offered certificates too, and from that point forwards focusing entirely on his Herbology apprenticeship with Professor Sprout.
"I only came back for Hannah," he reasoned, looking at his girlfriend, "and now that she has made her choices, it makes it easy for me to do what I want to do – to be at home with my father, and to eventually become a Herbology professor."
Hannah put her hand over Neville's in a gesture of support, and Hermione smiled at the tender gesture between this still-new couple.
"Have you told McGonagall?" Hermione asked, unsure of what to say, so she plumped for practicalities.
"We have," Hannah replied. "We thanked her for allowing us back, and told her how much we'd enjoyed our term here. She was lovely. She wished us well, and said that she expected Neville to take tea with her on occasion, when he returns to the castle for his regular tutorials with Professor Sprout."
"Once I am qualified, and begin training as a professor, then I'll be able to return to the castle, and have teaching quarters of my own," Neville cut in, clearly excited by the prospect. "That won't be for a few years yet, though, so it gives me plenty of time to be with dad, and Gran, and catch up on lost time."
Hermione smiled at them, placing her hand over theirs and reassuring them how delighted she was at their decisions, brushing away their apologies for "leaving her alone" and told them she was quite capable of completing the next three months without too much emotional distress. They all laughed, for Hermione was quite the most level-headed person Neville had ever met.
They had then left the table, and Hermione was giving herself a little mental shake as she finished her sandwiches, and took a slurp from her water goblet, which appeared to be blackcurrant flavoured, today. She chanced a peek at the top table and saw that not many professors were at luncheon today, definitely no Snape, and very few of the others. Perhaps they were all exhausted after their first morning back teaching following a boozy Christmas and new year holiday.
As her eyes flicked quickly and discreetly at Snape's usual place, Hermione was certain that she saw Professor Masters' gaze catch her own, if only for a split second. Had she been watching? She would have had to be, in order to have caught her eye at that precise moment. Had the defence teacher seen Hermione surreptitiously look around the Great Hall before focusing her eye exactly where it should not have been?
She remembered, belatedly, that Professor Snape had never fully explained the extent of his issue with Professor Masters. From the touch in the Three Broomsticks, that he'd insisted was unwanted and unwelcome, to his unease when discussing the woman. Hermione would have to try and get him to talk about it, although she suspected that procuring information from the professor that he did not want to give, would be even harder than a general conversation was at the best of times.
-xxx-
If luncheon had been confusing, things had become far worse by dinner time. After a long and draining potions lesson where she partnered with Ginny, whose pregnancy hormones appeared to be diminishing both her brain and good sense, leaving Hermione to do all the meaningful work on their potion, and copy her notes afterwards, with Snape sat resolutely behind his desk for the entire lesson, only to stalk up and down the student workbenches, offering it seemed nothing but spiked barbs and criticism the day, it had been demoralising. Malfoy had not been in class either, not that she'd admit to missing the boy, but it did make her wonder just who else was going to be disappearing from their diminishing cohort of war returners.
She entered the Great Hall to see the Gryffindor table completely empty at the near end, where they had always sat. Had Neville and Hannah gone already? A quick and unfocused glance to the far end showed her that the teachers' table was full, and so she made a fast decision to turn herself about and return to her room, ordering dinner through the Floo. Not that Hermione was scared of eating alone, she just … didn't feel like it, that was all.
Entering the guest corridor, she could see that Hannah and Neville had indeed already left, she supposed there was no point in them staying longer, all had been settled and they were keen to get back to their lives. Opening the door to her room, Hermione was touched to see a box of fizzing whizzbees and a note from them both, apologising again for leaving her, reminding her to stay in touch, and wishing her all the best for her upcoming exams.
Emotional distress, be gone, she muttered to herself, flicking open the bright yellow and orange box and selecting not one but two whizzbees to fizz away her discontent. She could almost hear her wonderful dad lecturing her for eating sweets before dinner, she supposed that feeling would always be bittersweet, a little like the confection that was dissolving at a rapid pace across her tongue.
Changing out of her uniform into her pyjamas, slippers and robe, for a cold castle in January was still just that, bloody freezing, Hermione was considering a second helping of fizzing whizzbees before ordering her dinner, when a loud and insistent knock sounded upon her chamber door.
"Who is it?"
"Its Malfoy. Open up, Granger, I have news."
She swung open the door, thinking how odd it was for Malfoy to come to her room, that hadn't happened in the whole term they had been eighth-years. He was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a smart black suit and was a picture of insouciance.
"Yes?" she enquired, determined to keep her face neutral and not at all impressed, lest he make a habit of this type of behaviour.
"Going to invite me in?"
"I wasn't going to, no."
"Well, can you? I have shit to share," he replied, pushing gently into the room, and grabbing a big fat handful of fizzing whizzbees.
"Help yourself, by all means," she told him, drily, closing the door and picking up the rest of the box, in case Malfoy thought he was going to eat the remainder.
Hermione sat in the armchair, leaving him no place to sit apart from her desk chair or the bed, and that might be too forward, even for Draco Malfoy.
"Wondering where I was, this afternoon?"
She had actually noticed he'd been missing from classes, but she'd rather be repeatedly poked in the eye with a blunt wand than give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
"I suspect you're going to tell me."
"Come on, Granger, I need someone to be excited about this. Believe me, I'd rather it wasn't you either, but I literally have no one else."
Draco caught her eye, and Hermione couldn't be sure whether he was serious or not. For the boy did indeed have no one. His parents were in Azkaban for life, his mad aunt was dead, he was marked as a Death Eater, he'd split up from one girlfriend and been dumped by the new one before things had even begun. She supposed he really did have no one.
"Fine. Tell me. I'm interested."
Malfoy leant forwards and put his hands on his knees.
"I've been at the Ministry," he began, "I've been thinking about it for a while, but what with Longbottom and the Hufflepuff and Slytherin girls jumping ship, and Astoria being as interested in me as a dose of dragon pox, I need to get out of here too."
Hermione crossed her legs in the chair, ensuring they were covered with the robe, and inelegantly pushed another few whizzbees into her mouth.
"My father was prominent at the Ministry, as you probably know," he continued, ignoring Hermione's snort of derision at the praise of his Death Eater father, "but he never actually worked there. He had a sort of commissioning position, most likely due to our family's wealth and status, but he never put the hours in, in a department. I want to change that."
He looked at her expectantly, and she continued to chew over the sweets and say nothing, which she knew full well was annoying and was rather enjoying.
"I had an interview. Today. Just now, really. And they've agreed to take me on as a junior in the wizarding justice department."
Now that was interesting. She gave him the encouragement he needed, "Really?"
"Really. After following Briner's case, and my parents, plus being on the receiving end of Wizengamot justice when I thought I'd be sent to Azkaban with the rest of them for being marked, the magical judicial system interests me. I want to know how it works. And I'm willing to start at the bottom."
"No doubt you told them this?" she enquired, wondering if as a Malfoy, Draco thought he'd be walking into a top position on the Wizengamot.
"I did," he replied, honestly. "I'm going to be starting in the secretarial section of the department. They are fine with the complimentary certificates, plus McGonagall actually wrote me a good reference to say despite family difficulties outside school, I was an excellent student."
"I'm pleased for you, Draco. Really. We've all had an incredibly difficult time, and it cheers me no end to see you making things happen for yourself. Who knows, Miss Greengrass the younger may even come round in time."
"As long as its not Miss Greengrass the elder," he retorted. "That would be like sleeping with Hagrid."
Hermione rolled her eyes and firmly indicated the door, by getting up from her chair and opening it wide for him to walk through. The last thing she wanted was to get caught with Draco Malfoy in her bedchamber less than 12 weeks before her final exams.
"It's been good, Granger," he told her, walking past her and through the door, "Good to get to know you. And for fuck's sake, get that bloody bat out of his dungeon too. If you walk out this castle and don't take him with you, I don't think he'll ever leave."
He gave her an irritating wink, and closed the door behind himself, no doubt heading to his room to collect his belongings and return home, if he'd even unpacked at all. Hermione ate the last few sweets and rather than order food as she'd intended, she threw herself across the bed, giving the blanket a cursory tug and scrunched the pillow under her head. She'd felt strange all day, and now continued to feel strange. Strange, and rather alone.
-xxx-
The mood in the staff room was more muted than usual, with many professors mulling over the news that Minerva had given them all; of the departure of several more of their returning eighth-year cohort. Sybill Trelawney was proclaiming that she had seen it all coming, but was promptly silenced by the headmistress, who loudly questioned that if Sybill had indeed foreseen it all, then it would have been inordinately helpful had she advised the school before the timetables had been written.
Flitwick snorted loudly, then tried to cover his mirth with a cough, not very successfully. Severus, not for the first time, admired McGonagall's talent for putting people in their place. Rather funny, except when it was levelled in his direction. After the supposed coughing fit, Filius proudly exclaimed that every single one of his returning Ravenclaws were still present, prompting polite compliments from other professors about how well those students were doing in their classes.
"Do we think any of the others will go, Minerva?"
Of course it was her asking.
"Och, I do not know, Andrea. As Filius said, the group of Ravenclaws seem very settled, and young Mr MacMillan seems to have joined their ranks in all but colour. There are no further Slytherins, so that leaves just Miss Granger as the sole Gryffindor, and I cannot see that young woman giving up on any challenge."
There were some murmurs of assent around the staff room, and of course, because Miss Granger had been a favourite student of almost every professor since joining the school at eleven. Not his, mind. He had always found her to be an insufferable know it all. She had only become a favourite of his in very recent times. Severus felt a lurch in his gut, or possibly his cock, reminding him of exactly what his interest in this particular student was. He folded his newspaper across his lap, just in case an unbidden twitch were to give him away.
"It seems such a pity for the girl to be here alone," Masters was continuing to twitter, and Severus forced his listening ears back to the conversation, "Is there nothing we can do for her, to speed her through the process? I know that her aptitude is formidable, and if we were all willing to give her little extra tuition, I'm sure that we could get her through her NEWT exams and starting her thrilling new job even sooner?"
Oh, fuck you, he thought. Fuck you, evil witch.
Of course, the agreement of the attending professors was absolute, and why would it not be? Granger was an exceptional student, and fully deserved any help they could give her.
"A show of hands for all of Miss Granger's subject teachers who would be willing to spare an hour a couple of evenings a week for accelerated private study?" Minerva called loudly, checking for the hands of Granger's extensive list of subject professors. "Severus?"
Her call drew the glances of the other teachers towards him, for he had not raised his hand, that was beneath him. He lifted an eyebrow at the infernal woman as his response.
"I shall take that as a yes, Severus, thank you very much," she announced, ignoring his withering expression, "and tomorrow I will owl Griselda Marchbanks at the examination board to see if we can pull forward the dates of Miss Granger's examinations. I doubt that Miss Weasley, I'm sorry, Mrs Potter, will be ready by a sooner date, so Griselda may wish to only come out once."
"But surely that would not be fair, Minerva, for one student to be held back due to another?"
It was bloody Masters again.
"Particularly when this student is exceptional, with a guaranteed job offer within a prestigious department at the ministry dependent on these results?"
McGonagall was nodding, she could not disagree with the point.
"I agree, Andrea, I agree. Let me see where I can get to with Griselda. And in the meantime, I trust that Miss Granger's subject teachers can agree a viable timetable for her evening tuition?"
More nods and mutters in the affirmative. Severus unfolded his newspaper, satisfied that all traces of errant erection had been well and truly quelled, and began to pretend to read it, annoyance seething through every vein in his body. The feeling of having his balls pinned to the wall was a horrifically familiar one, and one he'd hoped never to feel again – that of being controlled by another. But Madam Rookwood had him. If Miss Granger were to complete her exams and make it to the Department of Mysteries, he had no choice but to give this bitch what she wanted in order to buy her silence.
"What do you think, Severus?" she was imperiously fluffing a piece of parchment under his nose. "What evening would suit you for Miss Granger's potions tuition? I know, I'll put you down for Friday evenings, that way, if your session overruns, you'll have the excuse of your night patrol to finish up?"
She didn't wait for him to answer, but scribbled what he presumed must be his name, on what he presumed must be Friday. He suddenly realised that Andrea Masters' promise not to interfere was only on the most basic of levels. No, she wouldn't be standing guard outside his chambers, but she was clearly determined to make Miss Granger's time remaining at the castle as short as humanly possible. He only hoped that the hatred in his death stare was being well and truly understood, for he suddenly felt more trapped and helpless than he ever had under Voldemort.
-xxx-
