The rest of the week, Snape assigned Hermione monotonous detentions, ones of the sort she'd expected. He'd set her to painstaking ingredient preparation – and that meant dicing, slicing, and mincing flobberworms precisely to his instructions, then labeling them all and storing them away.

Hermione didn't mind the monotony, really – her mind was able to drift to a point to other things, once she got into a regular rhythm, and she found she almost enjoyed it. She'd been having some slight difficulty with her fine dexterity since her injury, and forcing herself to relearn precise techniques with her nerve-damaged hands and then repeating them a thousand times helped each technique become muscle-memory, ingrained into her very hands. Hermione wondered if Snape hadn't assigned her this on purpose for detention, as a weird form of physical therapy for her hands.

He'd never have admitted it if he had, of course, but Hermione found his motive didn't much matter – she was appreciative of the outcome nonetheless. Though she would never admit it; like Snape wasn't about to admit to caring, she wasn't about to admit to finding her detentions useful.

The rest of the week passed easily. Lockhart's History lessons were still a hot topic for gossip, as was Dumbledore, who had gotten delayed at the Ministry again as some new complication had come up. Hermione studied for exams with her friends in Slytherin, but she found herself also sneaking off to study with Cedric, meeting him at the entrance to the rose garden not infrequently. He always greeted her with a grin, and he was patient with her as he helped her learn things that were certainly review for him, seeming to enjoy the thrill of her successes with her.

"If magic weren't tied to age, they'd probably skip you up to my year," he'd told her once. "You need to be older to cast the higher-level spells, but you're able to cast at my level already."

"You just want excuses to hang around me more," Hermione had shot back playfully, and Cedric's eyes had sparkled but he hadn't denied it.

Occlumency lessons continued once her detentions were finished. Susan and Blaise only faired a little better this time, but Snape was visibly surprised by the progress Harry had made. Snape pressed Harry over and over again, and Harry managed to fully push him out once, which Hermione thought impressive. Snape gave Harry a skeptical look.

"Practicing, Potter?" he sneered.

Harry shrugged. "It helps me sleep."

Snape tried once more. Hermione could see from the expression on Harry's face he was fighting back frustration and indignation, and when Snape stopped, Harry's expression was furious, but he didn't say a word. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I would have expected an outburst from you by now, Potter," he said dryly. "Some righteous indignation at the invasion of privacy."

"Well, I signed up for it, didn't I?" Harry said testily.

Snape smirked, and Harry had glared.

"I've been getting less angry lately," Harry said, glancing to Hermione, "since the coven bond. I think being bonded to everyone is helping level my temper, which makes controlling my emotions easier."

That was the first Hermione had heard of it. She knew that Harry tended to pop off if Snape pushed him too hard in Potions class, but she was usually too busy purposefully messing up her potion with Theo in the back to pay attention to much anything else; double-brewing each potion was a task that required Hermione's and Theo's full attention.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"A boon for the entire school," he said snidely. He looked to Hermione. "Miss Granger, if you please?"

Hermione sighed and strode forward.

"I give you permission to enter my mind," she said flatly.

Snape smirked.

"Legilimens!"

As the ghostly image of Snape wandered around her fiery mindscape, Hermione idly wondered if other people had similar visualizations of their mind when this happened to them, or if it was just her. She directed the flames and sand-laden winds to block the openings to the caves as Snape moved around, determined not to let him near any of the ones that had anything to do with the Heir of Slytherin or her defeat of the Basilisk.

When her winds finally slipped, Hermione experienced a brief moment of relief at having protected her most valuable memories before being plunged into the memory.

There were plush red couches around, a crackling fire with her friends and Ron sitting around –

Ron declaring he'd want his photo taken with Slytherin's monster if he defeated it, so Lockhart wouldn't take credit –

Neville's considering face – "I'd want to claim the monster. Right of Conquest says that the hero who defeats a foe lays claim to the fallen—"

Bickering with Harry and the twins, Ron's face turning purple –

The excitement in the Twins' eyes at being told they were allowed to wear swords to class –

"The Bat of the Dungeons is a dangerous foe—"

"Professor Snape is not a foe! You just don't like him because you're in Gryffindor—"

By the time Snape pulled from her mind, Hermione's efforts to expel him failing, she was panting and frustrated. Snape was looking at her oddly.

"Do you do that often, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione glanced up at him. "Sometimes? Usually I go to the Ravenclaws', but I've been to Gryffindor a few times. I think I've been to Hufflepuff twice—"

"No," Snape said. "Defend someone who isn't there."

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"If they deserve it," she said slowly. "Or if they're my friend."

Snape didn't respond, but he seemed off-kilter after that, and the lesson ended with him brushing them off and telling them to come back next week, not threatening them if they didn't make it back to their common rooms in time for curfew. They all convened in an old classroom a few hallways from the Potions classroom.

"Is it just me, or was Snape acting oddly?" Susan asked.

"I think that's my fault," Harry said, grimacing. "I think he thought I was doing too well, and he wanted to take me down a peg, so he went after memories he thought would make me angry."

"How so?" Blaise wanted to know, and Harry shrugged helplessly.

"I mean, I don't know how it works. He found ones where I had been angry or humiliated—" Harry made a face, fighting back anger "—and it worked. But I don't think he was expecting the first memories he got. It was only the later ones he started making comments at."

"What memories?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Ones from over the summer," Harry said, wincing. "I mean, the first ones he was probably confused over, just because they were in a muggle house, but peeing in a pot is embarrassing for anyone, wizard or muggle."

"You had to pee in a pot?" Susan was horrified. "Do you live in a shack in the middle of nowhere?"

"My relatives are not nice people," Harry said dully. "They locked me up in my room over the summer. Hermione had to rescue me."

"What memory did he stop on?" Luna asked, blinking at Harry with wide eyes, and to Hermione's surprise, Harry flushed and ducked his head.

"Just an embarrassing one from school," he muttered, and Hermione gave Luna a sharp look. Luna smiled serenely, dropping the matter, while Susan looked to Hermione.

"What did he see with you?" she asked. "Snape was pretty thrown by yours too. He only tried with you the once."

"Err—me bickering with the Gryffindors," Hermione said. "I think the part that threw him was when I defended him to the Weasley Twins."

"That's what he was asking about?" Blaise looked puzzled. "He's got to know that Slytherins defend him to the rest of the school, doesn't he?"

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe? I mean, I would think so, but he seemed so thrown."

"We should do something for him," Susan declared. "He's our coven sponsor, isn't he? And he's giving us his personal time to help us with these lessons."

"Not like he's getting nothing out of them," Harry said, cynical. "Pretty sure Snape could put me in detention a dozen times over for the things he's seen."

"Still!" Susan pressed. "If we're nice to him, maybe he'll be nice to us back?"

"He isn't going to be pleased if we all get caught out after curfew," Luna said. "Perhaps we should think on it alone tonight and come together to talk about it again later?"

Harry checked the time and swore.

"Circe, we've got five minutes. Come on, Luna – we've got the farthest to go!"

Harry grabbed Luna by the wrist and rushed from the room with her, Luna looking highly amused as she was tugged out of the classroom. Susan raised an eyebrow over her bright glasses, glancing at Hermione, before she grinned.

"See you tomorrow!" she said brightly. "Or in History, I suppose. G'night!"

She left quickly. Blaise and Hermione had the shortest journey back; it was one twist and turn, a whispered password, and they were back in the common room. They parted ways to go to bed, Hermione musing on Susan's request as she readied herself for bed.

"What would Snape truly want?" she mused to herself. "He's such a private person…"

She was still musing on the matter as she went to sleep, wondering if a poisoned apple would be a sardonic gift he'd understand and appreciate or take as a legitimate threat to his person. She'd have to think more on it in the morning.


Hermione was caught off-guard by a summons to Dumbledore's office the next morning while she was eating breakfast.

"Now?" she said, dismayed. The prefect who came for her (Lysander Lestrange, Hermione recognized) gave her an annoyed look.

"No, tomorrow under the harvest moon at midnight," he said snidely. "Yes, now, Granger."

With a sigh, Hermione stood.

"Are you going to be okay?" Tracey asked, looking at her sideways.

"Should be," Hermione said. "Just… I get the feeling he's not going to thank me for saving the school, y'know?"

"Wouldn't that be a surprise," Blaise remarked, smirking. "Dumbledore openly acknowledging the contributions of a Slytherin."

Hermione headed off to the Headmaster's office, taking the stairs to the fourth floor. She'd known such a summons was coming eventually, and she'd been quietly dreading it. She knew she'd broken school rules, and if anyone would be suspicious of her and her motives, it would be Dumbledore. He'd taken her to task for rescuing Harry from a literal cell - who knew what kind of anger she'd face when he went over the list of what all she had done?

It would be okay, she told herself firmly, taking slow, deep breaths. She could keep him out of her mind, and her magic was stable now, so she could stay calm. And public favor was on her side, so he couldn't punish her too much, hopefully.

She could do this.

Hermione paused at the entrance, looking at the large stone griffin statue.

"Um," she said, pausing. "The Headmaster would like to see me?"

With a loud grinding sound, the stairs around the griffin began to turn and spiral upwards, and Hermione quickly hopped on. She looked up, watching as the ceiling slowly loomed closer and closer. The slow rotating would give students plenty of time to get more and more anxious and unsettled as they prepared to see the Headmaster, Hermione mused. It was very theatrical, and very dramatic. She wondered which Headmaster had put it in place.

At the top, Hermione knocked on the door, waited for the "come in", and pushed open the door. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. His blue eyes were piercing, his hands steepled.

"Miss Granger," he said pleasantly. "Please do come in. Take a seat."

Hermione did as she was bid, sitting down across the desk from him.

"Lemon drop?" he offered, and Hermione made a face.

"No, thank you," she said. "Those are awful for your teeth."

"They are," Dumbledore agreed solemnly. "A terrible addiction and vice on my part, I'm afraid. Though, not so terrible a vice as compared to some."

He popped one in his mouth, and Hermione watched him, wary.

"Forgive the delay in this meeting," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I've been kept away from Hogwarts helping at the Ministry for some time now. I should have liked to talk to you right after your… adventures, shall we say?"

"That's fine," Hermione said shortly. "You were busy."

"Still," Dumbledore said. He tilted his head. "May I ask you about your adventures?"

Hermione nodded. It wasn't like she could really refuse.

To her incredulous surprise, Dumbledore seemed to skip over the entire affair with the basilisk, only confirming that yes, she'd run after Draco to rescue him from the Chamber of Secrets, and yes, she'd defeated the basilisk. He was instead more interested in her catching Rhamnaceae Rookwood with Harry.

Even here, however, he didn't seem to be questioning her as she expected. She'd expected an interrogation, with Dumbledore doubting her and making her prove her innocence and heroism every step of the way. Instead, Dumbledore seemed more interested on pressing her on certain details - in particular, the details of what was found in the room when they cornered Rhamnaceae.

Hermione denied knowledge of what books were there, only saying that one was open, and one was not, but that they both looked very old. Both were, in truth, very new - Hermione had made copies of both a very Dark book of rituals and of the biography of Herpo the Foul, both apparently published before modern copyright spells were created - but they both looked very old. She gave a semi-accurate description of the circle she had seen as best as she remembered, as well as one of the ampule of blood and the pendant.

Dumbledore seemed very interested in the pendant, asking her if she'd ever seen it before (no), if Rhamnaceae had been wearing it before when they chased her (she wasn't sure), did it look old (maybe?), how big it was (maybe three inches long?) and what, exactly, the pendant was.

"Describe what it looked like," he bid.

"It was a necklace, with a pewter-looking pendant," Hermione said again. "It was in a skull shape, with a snake sticking out of the mouth like a tongue, I think? It didn't last long," she said apologetically. "Something spilled on it, and it started warping and melting."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, sighing. "Basilisk venom. It's able to destroy most anything, even the most indestructible things in the world. A shame; I would have liked to have examined the necklace while it was whole."

Hermione kept herself very still. There was no reason to think a crass metal pendant would be one of the most indestructible things in the world unless there was a suspicion of it not being just a pendant.

Which she had wanted, really, but it was still alarming to think about somehow.

"When it melted," Dumbledore said, "what happened?"

"Um," Hermione said. "It kind of bubbled and melted?"

"I know that. But was there anything else?" Dumbledore asked patiently. "Did it scream? Did you hear voices? Did you see anything?"

"Err—I don't know." Hermione wracked her brain. "There was a lot of screaming and yelling going on at the time, sir. And I was crouched on the floor avoiding spell fire, too."

Dumbledore nodded. "As I thought. Still, I thought it wise to ask."

He looked at Hermione silently for a long moment, pensive, and Hermione cautiously tried to keep her mind still in case Dumbledore had somehow found a way around her Occlumency barrier.

"You have been busy, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said abruptly. "And not just with saving the school."

Hermione blinked. "Sir?"

"That's a lovely ring," Dumbledore said conversationally, gesturing to her hand. "I noticed your friend Mister Potter wearing a similar one."

Hermione's eyes flew to Dumbledore's, defiant.

"There's nothing wrong with it," she said fiercely. "It's perfectly legal and allowed by school rules, and we—"

"You misunderstand me," Dumbledore said calmly. "I am not condemning you for your coven, Hermione. I rather think it has done much good."

Hermione faltered, suspicious. "Sir?"

"I spoke to the ghosts of the castle," he said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Though you have deprived me of one of my teachers, Miss Granger, you have helped two restless souls find peace, and perhaps more in the future." He smiled at her. "I had never contemplated the idea of a Light necromancy ritual, but the fact that you managed one, especially at such a young age, is remarkable."

"I—thank you, sir?" Hermione felt thrown.

"I think young Harry will benefit from close friends he feels he can fully trust," Dumbledore told her. "I hope to see all five of you young witches flower and grow within your coven, and your prowess as a sorceress continue, Miss Granger."

Hermione wasn't really surprised that Dumbledore knew that witches weren't just 'female wizards' and had a grasp on the traditional meanings of those terms, but somehow, his casual use of them felt subtly threatening to her.

"I have one last question, Miss Granger," he said. His blue eyes were steady on hers.

"Yes?"

"Has anyone in your coven tried to speak Parseltongue since your coven ritual?"

Hermione reacted with obvious surprise. It wasn't a question she was expecting in the slightest, and she didn't realize he knew that most of her coven knew Parseltongue.

"You mean since the coven bonding ritual?" she asked. "Err—I don't think so? No one's needed to go back into the Chamber."

Dumbledore nodded.

"I thought perhaps you spoke it amongst yourselves as a secret language," he said. "Secret languages and codes are fun, from what I recall of my youth." His eyes twinkled. "It'd be much easier and more fun than speaking the language of spiders to each other, I'd wager."

Hermione flushed in mortification, and Dumbledore smiled at her.

"You are receiving an award for Special Services to the School," he told her. "These are traditionally presented at the End of the Year feast; given the timely nature of your Special Services, however, I thought it more fitting to give it to you sooner rather than later. I did want to tell you ahead of time so you were not caught off-guard."

Hermione's eyes went wide.

"T-Thank you, sir," Hermione said. She was unable to fully suppress her confusion, Dumbledore tilted his head and smiled at her.

"I am not your enemy, Miss Granger," he told her gently. "I am eternally grateful to you for saving my school. You truly are the Heroine of Hogwarts."

His smile seemed genuine, as did the sparkle in his eyes, and Hermione managed to push back her instinctive suspicion of him enough to smile in return.

"And now, if you would pardon me," Dumbledore said, "I need to start searching for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. At least I only have one vacancy to fill, as you have filled the sudden lack of History professor for me admirably already."

Hermione flushed again, and Dumbledore's eyes sparkled.

"Have a good day, Miss Granger," he bid. "Do take care."

"Thank you, sir."

Hermione fled.