Hagrid knew it wasn't his place to discipline the students; he normally let things slide by him, but the tears in Hermione's eyes hadn't left his mind all day. The young witch was normally so tough, and he hated that the Malfoy boy had gotten to her. Poor Ron had tried desperately to help, but his broken wand was too damaged to do anything. "Should I go to ol' McGonagall?" he asked Fang after the children had left. "I'm certainly not goin' to Snape. Don't want to bark up that tree!"

Fang had simply looked at him with his droopy eyes and titled head, as if to say, I don't know; why are you asking me?

Sighing, Hagrid eventually got himself up and made his way up the hill to the castle.

When he reached McGonagall's office, he took a deep breath before knocking louder than he'd meant. "Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Hagrid, ma'am."

"Oh, Hagrid! Come in!"

Hagrid opened the door to see McGonagall seated at her desk, glasses at the end of her nose, looking more tense than usual. Snape was also in the room, much to Hagrid's disappointment. He'd been hoping to bring the topic up with her alone, before she told Snape. "Uh, professors. You know I don't normally put myself in the middle of disciplinary measures…"

"What's happened, Hagrid?" McGonagall asked, concern etched across her face. "Why don't you sit down?" Appreciating her kindness, he wiped his brow with a handkerchief and settled himself awkwardly into a chair, barely fitting. "Here," McGonagall said, waving her wand and expanding the size of the chair beneath him.

"Thank you, kindly," he said. "I was just with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and well, they told me somethin' that was said to her, and I don't like it at all, I must say."

"You have to give me more than that," McGonagall said. "Ginger newt?" she asked, sliding a container of biscuits towards him.

"Please," Hagrid said, grabbing one of the cookies and biting into it. He rarely visited her office, but the few times he had, he'd always enjoyed her treats. "Someone called Hermione a…" He didn't want to say it aloud, but he knew he had to. "Well, she was called a Mudblood."

The word immediately tensed the room. McGonagall's nostrils flared, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Glancing at Snape, his face had gone pale, well, paler than it usually was. His eyes were down at the floor. He didn't look good. "And who was it?" she asked.

"Malfoy," Hagrid muttered, keeping his eyes on Snape whose eyes were practically motionless as they stared at the floor.

"Of course," McGonagall scoffed. If it hadn't been for the tension that had filled the room the moment he had said the word, Hagrid could have laughed at the way her professionalism dropped for that brief moment. It felt wrong coming out of his mouth. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Hagrid," she finally said. "Severus and I will discuss this situation," she added, her eyes also moving to the man who had yet to say a word on the situation. She looked concerned. "Let me know if you hear anything further from the trio, will you?"

Hagrid nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you." He stood from the chair and tried not to knock over anything in the process. "Have a good night, professors."

As much as he wanted to know what the heads of houses were going to do with Malfoy, he dared not stand outside the door and listen in fear of being caught. Besides, something about Snape didn't look right, and he didn't want to anger him. But, he was no more than halfway down the hall when he heard her office door open, banging loud enough against the brick walls to get his attention. Turning, Hagrid saw Snape walking out of McGonagall's office, beginning down the opposite hall, his cloak bellowing behind him. "Severus, please!" McGonagall called, her voice sounding tired. "We have to address this!"

Snape turned, Hagrid unsure if he noticed he was watching, and clenched his fists. "Not now, Minerva." He paused, his voice, though nasty, trembling slightly. Hagrid had never heard him sound anything less than monotone. The sign of weakness was strange and unfitting. "You're the last person I want to talk about this with."

McGonagall had her head in her hands. "I know…" she replied. "Just…when you're ready…" Snape was silent, turning away. "I know why you don't want to talk."

"Good night, Minerva," he said, continuing to walk down the hall.

McGonagall was leaning against the wall of her office, the door still open, and she still standing outside of it. Cautiously, Hagrid walked back down the hall, getting close enough that he could talk to her without yelling. "Professor McGonagall?" he asked quietly.

She looked up, clearly surprised at his presence. He felt a pang of guilt when he realized she didn't know he was there. He hadn't meant to listen in. "Oh," she said quietly. "I…how much did you hear?"

"Not much," he admitted. "I promise; just that Snape didn't want to talk to ya."

Shaking her head, she put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry you had to see that; I'm sure you've had a long enough day. I truly do appreciate you coming to me."

He patted her hand. "I'm sorry if I caused ya to have a fight…"

"No, no," she said, shaking her hand. McGonagall looked down the hall where Snape had went, her eyes distant. "You needed to tell us."

"Are you okay?"

"Just fine," she smiled, though Hagrid could tell it was forced. "Would you like a cup of tea? I could use a break from the marking I've been doing."

Pleasantly surprised by her offer, Hagrid agreed to join her. He rarely spent time with the staff, isolated on his own in the hut. It was why he appreciated Harry, Ron, and Hermione so much. Dumbledore would come by, on occasion, but the chance to sit in the staffroom with everyone else was something he missed out on. His duties left him on the outside. Though the conversation over tea with McGonagall involved mostly surface level things, the weather, Quidditch, he enjoyed it nonetheless. He desperately longed to ask what would happen to Malfoy, but he knew better than to push her. She was kind, but strict when it came to student matters. When he had left for the evening, he silently hoped to himself that McGonagall and Snape would be able to talk about whatever it was the Potion's Master wanted to avoid. It sure seemed to have her stressed out.