Snape had ignored her the entire weekend. Hermione had tried everything. She spent all breakfast and dinner staring at the tight-lipped professor, waiting for him to return the favor. Instead, he sneered down into his plate, as if he was in an argument with his potatoes and not the impetulant Gryffindor burning holes in his head from across the room. She had wandered the dungeons in the middle of the night, wrapped in the safety of Harry's cloak. Still, if he was awake he stayed in his rooms, forgoing his nighttime rituals to continue to ignore her. After another unsuccessful attempt at breakfast, she had spent all of her classes quietly scheming before Defense Against the Dark Arts.
She walked alone in the bright bustle of Monday afternoon, the other sixth years laughing and joking before their last class of the day. Malfoy was mysteriously absent today. There had been no trace of him since the scene he'd put on in Hogsmeade, although Hermione wasn't sure if that was due to the nonstop gossip about his loyalties or if he'd decided being a good person wasn't his thing anymore.
The blonde in question suddenly loped in front of her, his collar undone, hair splayed out in all directions. "Granger!" He exclaimed, draping one willowy arm over her shoulders.
Hermione rolled her eyes, the questioning glares of her classmates lingering as they strolled past. "What happened to you? I haven't seen you since Hogsmeade."
"Nothing. A bit of business is all," He said, staring down at the cobblestone floor.
Hermione stayed silent. Whatever possible business Malfoy got into, she couldn't convince herself that it was anything good.
"Oi! Draco! What're you doing with a mudblood?" Goyle spat, his dough-like features reddening at the awful word.
Hermione recoiled, trying to slip out of Draco's grasp. She didn't need this, not now. Not like this.
"Don't call her that Goyle." Draco moved in front of Hermione, shielding her with his cloak.
Goyle sneered, drawing his wand. "Didn't take you for a blood traitor. Wait until he finds out."
"Not bloody likely," Draco snarled, lunging forward with his wand raised, but Goyle was surprisingly quick. Hermione quickly shoved herself against the wall, watching in horror as Malfoy howled in pain, boils erupting in his previously clear cheeks, pale pink and angry. Goyle only laughed, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike piling around the pair. Hermione gasped, the crush of raised voices raining down hard somewhere deep inside her, the wound that never closed.
She could barely make out Draco's snide tone out of the fifty mouths currently screaming with him. There were too many conversations, the clink of Galleons dumped into a bag, the cracks and thuds of the hidden duel. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, willing her panic to go away.
Suddenly Goyle flew back in a shower of red sparks, propelled to the back of the hall, bowling over second years in the process. Hermione's eyes widened and she dove into the swarm, reaching for the disheveled blonde in their center. She stumbled to him, nearly tripping over her boots before grabbing fistfuls of Draco's cloak. He steadied her, a silent understanding passing through them.
"Mister Malfoy, dare I ask what happened here?" Snape stood before them, greasy black hair falling around his face, making his nose appear smaller than usual..
"Just saving the Gryffindor princess, sir." Draco met Severus' gaze, eyes clouding as his occlumency shields slammed down. The older man cursed, raising an eyebrow half in admiration, half in annoyance.
"Rather Gryffindor thing to do, isn't it?" Snape crossed his arms, pointedly ignoring Hermione, who looked like she had quite a few things she'd like to say.
"I suppose it is, sir." Draco linked arms with Hermione and marched into the former potions master's classroom, taking a seat at the back, adjacent to her usual spot with Harry and Ron.
Severus watched them carefully, scrutinizing the gentle hand on her back and his injured Slytherin crouching in the hall. He had asked Draco to help her, that was true. He had not expected him to do so...publicly. The Dark Lord was bound to interrogate him eventually. Now that Goyle had been injured it was inevitable. He pressed his palm to his dark mark, feeling for a moment a shadow of pain, a bruise that lived permanently on his forearm. Vow or not, he would do anything to keep Draco intact. The boy was a monster, but he hadn't always been. Not that long ago, he was simply a chubby toddler with feathered hair, babbling at Severus while he sent emerald bubbles floating around his room. Draco was too smart to spew pureblood bullshit for the rest of his life.
With a flick of his wrist the lesson glimmered on the board, the dimly lit classroom immediately filled with loud groans. Severus crossed his arms and turned to glare at them. "Twelve feet of parchment due tomorrow on the use of nonverbal spells in defense for attacking each other in the hallways. This is a school, not a battleground. I will not accept late work."
Hermione's hand shot up in the air though the eager excitement was long gone from her round face.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Sorry, sir, but what happens if we don't turn it in?"
Draco looked appalled at her question, jabbing her in the side with one sharp elbow.
"I hardly see how that is a relevant question, considering that each and every one of you will be turning it in tomorrow."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow, mimicking his signature glare. "But what if I don't want to?"
"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for asking an idiotic question."
Ron hissed, smacking his forehead. Harry kept his eyes on Snape, though more than anything he wanted to look back at Hermione. What the hell was she doing? Why was Hermione fucking Granger provoking a teacher?
"Go ahead. I still won't turn it in. If Goyle hadn't opened his fat mouth we wouldn't have been fighting," Hermione said coolly.
Snape lunged towards her, planting his hands on either side of her small frame. "Is that so?" he said quietly, his hooked nose barely an inch from her face.
"He called me a Mudblood. He can die for all I care."
Snape stared at her, not removing his grip from the desk. Hermione glared back, daring him to react. Instead, he continued to loom over her while the class waited with bated breath for his answer.
"Detention, Miss Granger. Every night this week," He hissed, returning to his desk with a swish of his robes. "Don't look so pleased Mr. Goyle. You will find yourself in detention for a month with Mr. Filch."
Goyle's mouth hung open, his beady eyes practically bulging out of his head. The Slytherins didn't know who to look at, their head of house punishing one of their own, or Hermione who had never given teachers attitude, unless it was Trelawney. Goyle suddenly grunted,"Malfoy's the one who fought me. Serves him right for hanging out with filth like her."
Snape had his wand out in an instant, a black fury entangled in his robes, his mouth curled into the most vicious sneer he could muster. Goyle shoved his chair back with a screech, scrambling for his wand pocket, but Severus was faster, wordlessly disarming him. "If you ever choose to speak in that way in my classroom again, I will cut your tongue out and owl it to your mother."
Goyle nodded his head, doing everything in his power to distance himself from his head of house.
Severus scowled, testing Goyle's walnut wand in his wiry fingers, barely stopping himself from snapping it in two. "You've just earned yourself another month's detention, Mr. Goyle."
"S-sorry sir, won't happen again," Goyle gulped, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers.
The professor glared at the mess of a boy. What a pathetic excuse for a human being. The lot of them were. He strode to his desk, settling unevenly on the edge, daring them to speak. No one met his blazing look, most of his students rather interested in a spot on the ceiling, save Hermione, who was currently beaming at him. Unbelievable.
"Out. All of you. I cannot bear to deal with your idiocy a moment longer." Severus pinched his temple, narrowing his eyes as not a single person moved. "Now."
They were gone in an instant, fifty of them reduced to a flurry of movement, the clatter of ink bottles rolling across the stone floor, anxious whispers, the occasional cry as their homework slipped away from them. Finally he could be alone. Away from the whole sordid bunch.
"Sir? I'd like to discuss something with you."
Severus scowled, repulsed by the devilish girl who crowed for his attention.
"There is nothing to discuss."
Hermione stood with a scrape of her chair, somehow looking a foot taller in the amber light filtering in from the gauzy scarlet curtains above. "I believe there is quite a bit to be discussed! You being a prick for one."
She was met with the sickening sound of ground teeth, the man before her the portrait of fury, his thick eyebrows bristling as he fought the urge to shake her. "I have nothing to apologize for, therefore there will be no discussion. Choose your next words carefully Miss Granger or the Gryffindor hourglass will be drained within the next ten minutes."
Hermione groaned inwardly. Why did he have to be so stubborn? A part of her still feared him, the bat out of hell from her childhood, who had laughed at her teeth and marked her down simply for knowing the right answer. He had made the mistake of showing her the Severus who knew nightmares, who spoke softly and carefully, who wouldn't dare leave her alone in the tower if her lungs flitted in her chest like beetles. She only hoped he hadn't closed that door.
"Right. Well, I'll see you in detention. Maybe we can talk about it then?" Hermione gave him her best innocent smile, her new teeth bared for all to see.
Severus sighed, staring resolutely at his dragon hide boots and nowhere near her. "Perhaps. If your attitude improves there may be something to discuss."
It took every ounce of her being to stay perfectly still, and calmly respond, "Good."
He glared at her, idly toying with his robes. "Well, get out."
Hermione dashed away without so much as a look back. Though she had tempted his rage multiple times today, she didn't quite feel up to getting yelled at anymore. Severus watched her go, her mess of curls bouncing with each step. If she thought he was going to apologize for calling her a child, she was barking.