Sorry for the delay, life's been crazy. With children constantly sick and the world falling apart, I've been distracted. This chapter contains a direct quote from Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince. I must also say my understanding of Snape is closer to Alan Rickman's depiction of him. I wouldn't love this character half as much if it weren't for his acting. :')
Also, this is my first attempt at writing fan fiction so constructive criticism is very welcome - even compulsory if you like the storyline but not the writing. :D (I hope you mostly do, though). Anyway I'm open to suggestions. Just don't be mean. Thanks!
Chapter 3. A rough start.
Hermione spent the remaining days of the summer holiday helping Harry with his unfinished homework. Usually, she would have scolded him for leaving it to the last minute, but it proved to be a good distraction from witnessing Ron drool over Fleur every time they ran into each other. The Burrow wasn't a mansion, so it happened annoyingly often.
Hermione's nagging envy of Fleur's beauty and Ron's crush on her wasn't the only thing that occupied her thoughts. She was still dealing with the aftermath from the battle at the Ministry of Magic. While the injury Dolohov's curse had left on her chest had mostly healed, leaving a thin reddish scar that only occasionally made itself known, her mental health wasn't unscathed. She used to have nightmares of the battle for weeks on end. Some playing on repeat and others changing, but each of them leaving her breathless and sweaty, ending mostly in the same way - she or her friends and family dead.
Then, as time passed and summer progressed, the dreams had become rarer, less vivid and to Hermione's relief had stopped altogether. Until the dreams returned the night after visiting Diagon Alley. She had stayed up with Ginny late into the night, eating sweets and gossiping about boys, up to the point the youngest Weasley admitted she had feelings for Harry, which hadn't really surprised Hermione. After the first night of horrible sleep Hermione thought it had been the result of devouring an unreasonably large amount of Chocoballs from Diagon Alley before bedtime, but after a few nights like that, she figured it had little to do with her choice of unhealthy snacks. She also knew it was possible she might've had post-traumatic stress, but it didn't entirely add up, as she was fully functional otherwise.
So her next logical conclusion was that meeting Narcissa Malfoy and Draco, snooping after the Malfoy heir in Borgin and Burkes and seeing the destruction in the Diagon Alley were triggering her nightmares. If they even were nightmares because as strange as it was, half of the time she couldn't remember anything she had dreamt of. She would wake up in the morning and within seconds would be left grasping after only remnants of whatever she had seen, until even those dissipated and left her lying in bed with a sense of dread and loneliness. The pattern was mostly the same, except when Ginny woke her up in the middle of the night because Hermione's violent tossing was threatening to wake up the entire house. Hermione had asked Ginny to keep this to herself. Harry had enough on his plate, and she just didn't feel comfortable with Ron knowing about her nightly terrors. Thankfully, she could trust Ginny now that they both safeguarded each other's secrets.
oooOOOooo
Being best friends with Harry Potter often came with additional objectives; school had never been about education alone. As much as Hermione would have loved to throw herself into her studies, she often ended up fighting giants, ancient basilisks, werewolves, and all sorts of unfriendly beings. So she was naturally very worried when Harry didn't arrive in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony and was shocked to the bone to see him enter, covered in blood. She hadn't anticipated the school year to go awry that quickly. It was a new low, even for them.
Hermione used a scrubbing spell on Harry to get rid of the dried blood from his face and clothes and had almost felt her anxiety disperse until they were hit with another unpleasant blow, which left her trying to figure out why the world was dismantling itself underneath her feet. Dumbledore introduced Horace Slughorn, their new Potions teacher, allowing Snape to take on the position of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Hermione looked at Harry, who was sitting across the table from her and staring at the High Table angrily.
"But Harry, you said Slughorn would teach Defence Against the Dark Arts." Said Ron, as confused as Hermione.
"I thought he would," replied Harry, and Hermione could see how the news rattled him even more than her and Ron. She had seen Harry's temper fly off the handle a lot, but the resentment she saw in him at that moment was different. It was quiet, but so concentrated that it scared her.
"That job's fixed. Quirrell actually died doing it. Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death." Said Harry, earning a disapproving glare from Hermione.
"Harry!" She exclaimed. She thought that even if Harry had meant it as a joke, it was insensitive and unfair, even if it was about Snape. Harry stared back at her, his green eyes ablaze, and there was not a hint of remorse in his expression. If anything, he looked accusing, and Hermione didn't need to excel in Legilimency to understand what he was thinking. Harry had probably been right that day in Diagon Alley; it was very unlikely Snape had been looking for the Jobberknoll feathers on behalf of Hogwarts. She looked at Harry as he mouthed, "I don't trust him."
This left Hermione wondering why Snape would need Jobberknoll feathers if he knew he wouldn't be teaching Potions this year. Was it possible he was brewing something for the Order, and even so, why threaten Mr. Bilbrough? And however she looked at it, she couldn't ignore her suspicions that Snape had intended to threaten Mr. Bilbrough with his Dark Mark. Hermione knew he had it—Harry had told her and Ron about eavesdropping on Snape and Karkaroff. But would Snape flash the mark in the middle of the day with people in the store? He wouldn't be that careless, would he? And whatever for if the feathers were out of stock anyway? Had Snape suspected Mr. Bilbrough was lying? But why would the shopkeeper lie about something like that?
All those questions floated around in her head, creating a bunch of theories, each less likely than the other, making her feel guilty for blaming Harry for jumping to conclusions too quickly. Wasn't she too guilty of prejudice that was the result of her own hatred? Perhaps she was simply better at concealing her dislike for Snape than Harry, who was impulsive and intuitive. Harry would mostly follow his gut, unlike Hermione, who favoured facts over hunches and made logical assumptions. But could she pride herself on being the rational one when it came to Snape?
Hermione looked at the sullen figure sitting at the High Table on Dumbledore's right hand—a matter of coincidence or a means to symbolise Dumbledore's trust in Snape, she could not tell. He was as stoic and disinterested as always, gazing lazily at the Slytherin table. He wore his usual black attire, buttoned up so neatly up to his Adam's apple that Hermione wondered if he ever felt claustrophobic in his own attire. His black hair concealed his face as he leaned closer to the table, each movement so articulate and precise that he made a performance out of pouring himself a drink and serving himself some potatoes.
Snape represented everything she detested: bigotry, favouritism, malignity, and obstinacy. He might've been a skilled and highly knowledgeable wizard, but as a teacher, he was a tremendous bully. What was there to like? Yet, despite having a horrible temper and abusive behaviour, she couldn't think of a single thing to suggest he wasn't Dumbledore's man. The facts spoke in Snape's favour, and until proven otherwise, there was nothing she could hook on to. She was staring at the controversial man when a realisation suddenly hit her so hard and unexpectedly that she nearly fell off her chair. Snape had been very clear about who he would allow into his Potions classroom to continue on N.E.W.T. level studies, and it did not include students who received anything less than an O in their O.W.L. exam. Hermione, being exactly one of those students, was now having a mild panic attack, as she had no idea if the same rule applied to DADA as well. She couldn't believe that such an urgent matter hadn't occurred to her before and decided she would discuss her options with Professor McGonagall as soon as possible.
She could barely contain her agitation and when Dumbledore finally dismissed the students to their dormitories, she stood up abruptly. No one paid attention except those who thought she was in a hurry to carry out her Prefect duties, escorting first-year students to the Common Room. The Great Hall broke out in a hubbub as people slowly woke up from their lethargy of eating too much, and hundreds of feet started to make their way towards the exit. Seeing Ron disinterested in helping out, she abandoned her initial plan to go to McGonagall straight away and rounded up the tiny Gryffindor students who stared up at her, starry-eyed and awestruck by the magic they had witnessed during the entire evening.
The group was already on their way towards the Gryffindor common room when Professor McGonagall approached Hermione. The Head of House had a commanding presence as she spoke urgently and without unnecessary tittle-tattle.
"Good evening, Miss Granger. Welcome back to Hogwarts!"
"Thank you, Professor." Hermione looked at the strict woman with a sense of admiration. McGonagall was dressed in elegant dark robes and wore a traditional pointed hat she reserved for the Sorting Ceremony. Despite looking very strict, everyone knew she loved her students. Seeing McGonagall in a hurry, Hermione knew this was not the time to discuss her options for continuing her studies in DADA, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep all night if this wasn't sorted out. "How can I help?"
"After you've escorted our newest members of Gryffindor House to the Common Room," McGonagall assessed the crowd of first-year students who had suddenly straightened their backs and had solemn looks on their faces: "Your presence is required at the Headmaster's office."
Hermione became worried instantly. "Professor, is something..." But McGonagall cut her off before she could finish her question. "Take Mr. Weasley with you, and you should know, Professor Dumbledore likes brandy snaps." She gave a final evaluative look at the students over the top of her glasses, turned around, and walked away briskly.
oooOOOooo
Ron hadn't been too happy about being dragged away from the comfort of the Gryffindor common room but yielded after Hermione had threatened to tell Fred and George how he had snitched a package of U-No-Poo's from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The fact he managed to do that without getting caught in the first place had surprised even Ron himself, and he was still burning red with embarrassment that Hermione of all people had found out he had stolen from his brothers as they climbed up the stairs hidden behind the gargoyle and reached the top.
The door to the Headmaster's office was open, and the scene that revealed itself before them was unusual. The large circular room was crowded but surprisingly quiet. Hermione saw Prefects from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff standing on the left side of the room, looking perplexed. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were quietly standing with the students, and across from them on the other side of the room was Dumbledore, his attention focused as he was quietly conversing with people Hermione didn't recognise. Hermione quickly counted five strangers who wore elegant dark robes and radiated with confidence and dignity. Hermione presumed they were Aurors.
She tugged at Ron's sleeve wordlessly, and they walked towards Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott, of whom the latter had given them a small wave. The students seemed uneasy and chose to stay quiet. Hermione gazed hesitantly towards McGonagall and contemplated approaching the witch, who seemed very frigid even for herself, but figured it'd be unbefitting and decided to try her luck another time. Hermione had noticed that she and Ron were not the last ones to arrive; Slytherin prefects and Snape were absent from the assembly, and she figured they would have to wait until everyone had gathered to find out the reason why they had been summoned She saw this as an opportunity to admire the intriguing office she had heard so much about from Harry but had never visited herself.
She felt a strong yearning to examine the bookcases, which seemed to groan under a vast amount of ancient-looking tomes, and stared at the portraits of previous Headmasters, all awake in their paintings and curiously observing the situation before them. Dumbledore's phoenix sat on the perch and was cleaning its feathers when its black eyes found Hermione's. She felt an odd tingle as its piercing gaze looked right through her. The bird tilted its head almost curiously just as Snape's imposing frame appeared in the door frame, Draco and Pansy awkwardly trailing behind him. Dumbledore, who had been talking to a tall, gorgeous-looking wizard, turned towards Slytherin House representatives, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.
"Ah, Professor Snape, I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about us!" Dumbledore spoke with a soft, friendly voice, and Hermione found it very odd to hear someone talking to Snape like that. The former Potions's Master looked rigid, nodded at the old wizard almost imperceptibly, and turned towards his disciples, who, to Hermione's satisfaction, looked very sullen. Snape grabbed Draco's shoulder sharply and guided the young Malfoy heir, who now looked positively pissed, to stand next to Hermione along with Pansy and the rest of the fifth and seventh year prefects. Draco didn't look at Hermione, but she could sense detestation come off of him in waves, which hardly surprised her. If anything, she found it curious how Snape had handled Draco as if he hadn't been nearly a grown man but a ragdoll in front of everybody. Slytherin students always received special treatment from Snape, even if they were foul and loathsome cockroaches like Draco. What had changed?
Dumbledore positioned himself in the middle of the room and said, "I apologise for inviting you all here tonight on such short notice. I'm sure you would've preferred the cosiness of your beds to an old man's ramblings, so I will do my best not to keep you for long." Dumbledore was smiling at them all kindly. Hermione gazed at his scorched arm and knew she wasn't the only one wondering what could possibly harm one of the greatest wizards of all time. She remembered the rumours that Dumbledore had become old and slow. Even Molly Weasley had been reluctant to send Ron and Ginny back to school. Might those worries have been justified?
Dumbledore linked his hands behind his back, and Hermione blushed, realising she had been staring at his hand longer than would've been considered polite, and breaking the gaze abruptly to stare at her sneakers instead. Even if the old wizard had been uncomfortable, he hid it well and continued without being disturbed.
"As you have already noticed, I am sure, we are joined here on this fine evening by law enforcement officials from the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry is taking the safety of our students very seriously and has kindly sent their best Aurors to guard the school from the forces of darkness that work day and night to penetrate the castle walls." Dumbledore was smiling, but Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore was dissatisfied with hosting the Ministry's Aurors at school. She knew there were also members of the Order stationed outside Hogwarts grounds, guarding the entrances from Voldemort and his followers. She was also confident about the school's safety because they had Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort felt threatened by. So why would the Ministry insist on the extra security? The memory of how the Ministry had interfered at Hogwarts and imposed their politics last year was still fresh in her mind, and she suspected Dumbledore hadn't forgotten either.
So was this the Ministry trying to make up for meddling too much, or were they trying to appear in control in order to send a message to parents such as Molly Weasley that Hogwarts was safe? Or were they signalling they didn't trust Dumbledore's judgement or, worse, his abilities anymore? If she could suspect that, surely so would Voldemort.
A knot began to form in Hermione's stomach as she looked at the tough-looking magicians who stood motionlessly on the other side of the room and betrayed nothing of what they thought or felt. They didn't look particularly approachable or friendly, unlike Nymphadora Tonks, and Hermione hoped that Harry would end up more like Tonks should he succeed in becoming an Auror. She didn't like the thought of Harry becoming cold and distant like the Aurors in front of her.
The wizard, who had been speaking to Dumbledore when she and Ron arrived, took a small step forward. "Thank you, Dumbledore!" said the man with a deep, raspy voice, which humorously didn't suit him at all. The Auror was about the same age as Professor Snape, except the tall wizard was painfully handsome with light hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and electric blue eyes. The only thing that gave away his profession was a large pink scar that ran across his throat, and she wondered if that was the reason his voice sounded off.
"My name is Gabriel Sallow, and I am responsible for coordinating the protection of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry between the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the School Staff, along with the Board of Governors." The wizard paused and looked at Dumbledore, who made no attempt to intervene.
"Perhaps some of you have already read from the Daily Prophet that the Ministry has decided there must be additional safety measures and restrictions in order to keep the students in the castle safe, given the current circumstances regarding the return of the Dark Lord." Hermione sighed, perhaps too loudly, because the piercing blue eyes of Auror Sallow suddenly fixated on hers, making the hair on her neck stand up. The man continued, not breaking eye contact, and Hermione was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "We expect full cooperation from the members of staff and students alike, and in order to make the gravity of the situation clear to your fellow students, we require commitment and understanding from Prefects, who are to be our eyes and ears where we cannot reach."
Sallow finally lifted his scrutinising gaze and looked at Dumbledore, who, to Hermione's surprise, didn't object to what was being said whatsoever. Hermione knew Dumbledore had made some questionable decisions in the past regarding the safety of students, but allowing the ministry to use Prefects as an extension of keeping order and safety at school seemed over the top, even to her.
Dumbledore then smiled coolly and looked at the Aurors.
"I believe our students have no real ill intentions at this school, but the Ministry thinks I might be somewhat naive.They do not agree with me that the students and members of staff should know exactly what kind of dangers lie ahead for those who should want to test the school's fortifications. Nevertheless, I agree we must be on guard and encourage students and members of staff to respect the rules and avoid taking unnecessary risks, may it be the result of curiosity or carelessness."
Dumbledore ran his healthy hand across his beard and spoke quietly but decisively.
"The Aurors are stationed both inside and outside Hogwarts. Every entrance is manned and guarded by protective magic. This includes the secret passages." Dumbledore looked at them over his half-moon spectacles. "Make sure your peers know—no one can trick their way in or out. Disillusionment charms, cloaks of invisibility, apparitions, floo powder, port keys, flying, or even climbing the walls of Hogwarts will not work without my knowledge and permission." Dumbledore walked over to his table and leaned against it, looking at them with an amused glint in his eyes, which momentarily met Hermione's.
"Without giving away too much, hear my warning. While I wholeheartedly understand the temptation, I strongly advise you to steer away from testing your wit and skills on the magical protections that guard this school. Not unless you want to become impaired for life. Or meet your untimely death."
Only Dumbledore could do that—speak of danger, death, and destruction with such ease and airiness that it sounded like he was telling them an amusing story he had recently heard from a friend.
Sallow then cut in with poise, which was in complete contradiction to Dumbledore's relaxed manner. "Should you see or hear anything that you think requires the attention of a teacher, go to your designated Head of House and encourage your fellow students to follow suit. As Prefects and members of staff, you are also welcome to approach the Aurors on patrol should the situation require it."
Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing—the Ministry was asking students and staff to snitch on each other. Were they suspecting something, or was this truly them being spooked to new levels of paranoia? Were they expecting students to smuggle Voldemort into the castle underneath their school robes? Whatever it was, Hermione wasn't sure if she should feel safe or threatened by it all.
The rest of the meeting basically consisted of a long list of additional security measures, which included the searching of owl mail, a strict curfew, and a new rule that required Prefects to report back to the Head of House after their evening patrols in the hallways and return straight to the common room afterwards. Hermione figured it made sense and felt contentment that Slytherin Prefects couldn't abuse their power and roam the castle at night under the pretence of patrolling duty anymore. She side-eyed Draco, who had abused his position any chance he got. Hermione had expected him to look angry or at least disappointed, but he looked completely disinterested, and his blank expression gave Hermione the feeling he wasn't even paying attention.
After Sallow had given a final speech about the importance of duty, obligation, and loyalty, which annoyed even McGonagall, whose mouth had gradually transformed into a thin line, the Prefects were told to retrieve their patrol schedules for September from Dumbledore's table. Consistent patrols and dividing the evenings between the Prefects was one of the new rules so that each evening would be covered and the teachers knew who was out on patrol on specific evenings. Ron thought the new rules managed to take all of the fun out of being a Prefect, but Hermione rejoiced as she would have more time to study now that the burden of duty wasn't weighing heavy on her shoulders every evening. Ron had mostly neglected his patrol duty except when he incorporated it with a trip down to the kitchens or when she annoyed the life out of him for not taking his position seriously. Other times, Hermione, being the responsible one, covered his patrols herself.
She neatly folded the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of her Gryffindor robes. She would have time to inspect it later. Ron had already left, as she had told him she wanted to stay behind to talk to McGonagall. She had promised to meet him and Harry back in the common room and share the news. Ron hadn't been nearly as worried as Hermione about the possibility of not being able to continue his studies, but Harry, being the only one who had received an O in DADA, said he would willingly drop the class if he was the only one to qualify. Apparently, becoming an Auror wasn't worth the torment, and he would rather make a career out of cleaning toilets at Hogwarts with Moaning Myrtle as his only company than spend an entire year alone in DADA with Snape.
"Well, yes?" The man himself drawled suddenly, and she nearly jumped at his voice. Hermione had been standing behind McGonagall for a while, trying to politely wait for her to finish her conversation with the other teachers. "Was there something you wanted to say, or have you made a habit out of eavesdropping on other people's conversations?"
"No, I wasn't... I didn't," she stammered, redness creeping to her face as she looked helplessly at McGonagall, who had turned around to look at her. "I just wanted to speak to Professor McGonagall."
The witch sighed. "It's late, Miss Granger, and you should retire to your dormitory. It can wait till tomorrow, I'm sure."
"It can't." She said a little too brusquely and earned an unappreciative look that made her want to evaporate. "It's just that the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson is tomorrow." Hermione hesitated, very aware that the person at fault for her disquietude was staring at her. She tried her best not to look at him, afraid it would make her bolt out of the room. "I just wanted to be absolutely sure that there was no way that me or the other students who didn't receive an O for their O.W.L. could be taking Defence Against the Dark Arts this year." For a moment, she thought that whatever she had said made no sense because this was exactly how Professor McGonagall was looking at her. Hermione knew she had a tendency to ramble when anxious, but in her own opinion, she had sounded perfectly clear and sensible. Agitated, perhaps. But sensible.
McGonagall finally turned to Snape, forcing Hermione to follow suit. Snape was indeed staring at her intently, his head slightly tilted. She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away. Snape's eyes narrowed briefly before he broke his gaze to look at a very malcontent McGonagall.
"Professor Snape?" McGonagall looked at Snape quizzically. "Did you or did you not inform students you're making an exception this year and are perfectly happy to accept students who received an E for their Defence Against the Dark Arts exam into your classroom?"
"Oh, please, professor, you know me better than to confuse happiness with reluctance. With the amount of birdbrains I'm about to teach, we should consider it lucky if they leave the first lesson with all their limbs still intact."
There was a short pause, and when McGonagall didn't say a thing, probably out of shock, Snape simply shrugged and raised his eyebrow indifferently. "As for informing the students, I might've forgotten."
"I think you meant to say ignored." McGonagall replied in a tone that would've made any student tremble with fear.
Snape appeared to be completely unaffected. "They're interchangeable."
His black eyes then again fixed on Hermione judgingly, and she had a feeling she was going to regret not taking McGonagall's advice to deal with this tomorrow. "Miss Granger, it's admirable you wish to continue your studies in Defence Against the Dark Arts, despite your lack of talent in the subject. But I'm beginning to suspect you'd rather strive for mediocrity than admit not being the brightest witch of your age."
"Professor Snape!" McGonagall gasped and then snapped back at him, "You know perfectly well that Miss Granger has performed flawlessly in all of her other O.W.L.'s. Would you like a demonstration? Perhaps she could conjure some post-it notes for you for the next time you suffer from memory loss?"
Hermione would've appreciated McGonagall coming to her defence if she weren't boiling with anger. She simply stared back at Snape. Good god, it was so easy to resent this man. He was practically begging for it. Hermione was sure Snape was enjoying it, despite the unfathomable expression on his peculiarly baronial face.
"Yes, Miss Granger. You can take Defence Against the Dark Arts. Consider this my charitable contribution to your ongoing education."
With that, Snape strode out of Dumbledore's office, leaving Hermione and the professors dumbfounded.
'Great', thought Hermione as she was making her way back to the Gryffindor Common room. She had stepped on Severus Snape's toes twice within only a week and figured she was now a solid candidate to become Snape's least favourite student. Ironic, given how much effort he had put into hating Harry.
Her classmates were still discussing Snape becoming a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher when Hermione, still smouldering with anger, arrived in the Common Room. She resisted the urge to go to bed early and do some reading from The Imperius Curse and How to Abuse It, just to get out of her own head. Instead, with a frustrated sigh, slumped into an armchair opposite Ron and Harry and told them everything that had happened after Ron had left. The boys were angry, especially Ron, whose protective side got triggered instantly.
"Git! Did you hear Crabbe and Goyle actually failed their DADA exam? If Snape called you mediocre, I would love to hear what he has to say about them." Ron lowered his voice. "Can you imagine the two of them as Death Eaters? They couldn't even outwit a garden gnome if their lives depended on it."
Harry nodded and replied dryly. "Do you think Death Eaters like jokes? I guess they could apply for the position of Voldemort's Court Jesters. With all that killing, he might appreciate some comic relief."
Hermione gave them a tiny smile. "Whatever would I do without you?"
Ron pretended to be in deep thought. "Hmm, I don't know. Read?"
"Ronald!" Exclaimed Hermione, but she couldn't help but smile as some of the weight lifted off. "Don't flatter yourself. Not even the two of you could keep me from a good book!"
Ron scowled at her playfully. "So this is what we get in return for trying to cheer you up? Harry, remind me again why are we friends with her?"
Harry got up and stretched himself. "Don't listen to him, Hermione. Ron's infected with Wrackspurts." He laughed and then dodged a pillow Ron threw at him. "What was that for!? You know as well as I do that we wouldn't have gotten past our first year at Hogwarts without her."
Hermione threw up her hands and stood up. "Thanks guys, but I'm off to bed." All of this praise was making her uncomfortable.
"What, already? But you just got back!" Ron said disappointedly.
"Well, I have this very good book I - " Hermione had to tuck to avoid another pillow Ron threw in the direction of her head. "What's with the throwing of pillows, Ron? Are you practising for the Quidditch try-outs already?"
"Are you?" I asked Harry, looking at his friend a bit uncomfortably.
"No!" Ron looked at them, alarmed. "Why? Do you think I shouldn't?"
"Alright, this is definitely my cue," said Hermione, and escaped towards the stairs that led to the girl's dormitory. She had no intention of listening to them discuss Quidditch. She climbed a few steps on the stairs and turned around. "Oh, and Ron? Don't forget to pick up the pillows before you go to bed. You're not at the Burrow." She gave him an encouraging smile. "Goodnight!"
She could hear Ron mutter something under his breath, and thought she heard him complain about how excruciatingly bossy she was. She smiled to herself—at least some things in her life remained unchanging.
By the time Hermione had unpacked her belongings and climbed into bed, her relatively good mood was gone. Upon arriving at the dormitory, she was greeted by Lavender and Parvati's incessant questions about Harry the Chosen One Potter, which would've been funny if it weren't tragic. The girls in her dormitory had generally regarded Hermione with indifference; now they were trying to be best friends. It could never cease to amaze her how shallow teenage girls could be.
She was staring at the wooden ceiling of her canopy bed, surrounded by thick red curtains to keep her roommates away, and running her fingers through Crookshanks' soft fur as feelings of doubt were gnawing at her despite her best attempts to distract herself by picking up a book. After what had been her third attempt to read Chapter 2: The Ethics and Morality of Imperius: Unforgivable or Simply Misunderstood?' She couldn't recall a single word Enoch Gulls had written, so she put the book down with a frustrated sigh and threw herself on the pillows. To say she was restless was an understatement.
Harry and Ron had been clearly relieved to be able to continue their studies in their favourite subject, but to her own dismay, she couldn't untangle her conflicted feelings. She loved studying, and she knew she was good at it. Yet, her anxiety concerning tomorrow's DADA lessons with Snape was growing to the point where she wished he hadn't made an exception this year. She had so far managed not to allow Snape under her skin because she knew she was brilliant at Potions and had nothing to fear from him apart from snide remarks about her personality, which she could tolerate. Insults about her intelligence were an entirely different matter. And however unpleasantly Snape had behaved, he wasn't wrong—out of all of her O.W.L.s, she had only received an E in her DADA exam, making the subject her Achilles' Heel.
Her rubs had become so intense that Crookshanks stood up and shot her a dirty look. Well, thanks for the support, thought Hermione as the cat's fluffy tail flicked angrily before he jumped off the bed and silently disappeared from sight to do god knows what. Hermione pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes, unaware that sharing a classroom with Snape would be the least of her problems.
I hope it was worth the wait!