𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖊 ⋆ hermione granger

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Ripley seems more like a Slytherin," Hermione admits. "I always mix them up because of it."

"Nah." They sit down beside the fireplace and Hermione pulls a heavy book from her bag. "Ripley's a Ravenclaw. She really couldn't be a Slytherin because she isn't about all that loyalty and fraternity bull. She's a lone wolf. Probably why she goes through so many boyfriends."

"Speaking of boyfriends," Hermione says, and Sage looks at her. She's ready to get her heart cracked in two by the girl opposite her because, like, yeah, it's sort of against her rules to crush on straight girls. But Merlin, she really can't help it with this one. But Hermione doesn't break her heart, not this time. Instead, she says, "What's going on with you and Dean? You've been hanging around a lot recently, haven't you?"

Sage snorts once and bursts into fits of giggles. "Oh- Christ, Hermione- no!- I'd never fancy Dean Thomas," she says finally, hands on her stomach to push away the ache of laughter.

"Sorry," says Hermione, all timid and shy about her mistake. The girl isn't used to making mistakes. She always gets everything right, with that Ravenclaw brain and that Gryffindor boldness of hers.

"No, don't be," Sage answers, reaching out to pat the girl's shoulder. "It's probably our fault. I suppose we do act a bit like we're going out. But we're not. Promise."

Hermione laughs. "Alright."

After a few moments, Sage decides to make a short trip off to the girl's dormitory. Hermione stays behind, so she spends a few moments in the corridor gathering herself together.

"Forget something?" Parvati asks when Sage walks in. Sage shrugs, a little red in the face, and picks up her Defence Against the Dark Arts book.

"Lupin'll kill me if I forget this thing one more time," she says.

Except Lupin wasn't able to kill her, because Sage's best friend in the entire world has somehow weaselled his way into teaching their class.

"Why couldn't Dad have taken us?" Sage hisses to Stevie when they find their seats. "This rat bastard doesn't teach Defence for a reason, surely he's not allowed to take this class! Dad could be here in an instant-!"

"Miss Laurent," the greasy git sneers, looking down at her over his massive nose. "Speaking out of turn, once again. I learn that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

She glares up at him, her hazel eyes glaring straight through his beetle-black ones. Her chin is jutted out defiantly. He sneers again.

"I see your regular professor doesn't enforce rules in this classroom," he says, whipping around so fast his cloak snaps at the legs of Sage's desk. Under her breath, she mutters every swear word she knows in English, Spanish, and French. She even hisses something she learnt from a medieval poetry book she read with her dad once, and Stevie snorts. "Alphabetical order," Snape instructs.

Stevie looks positively delighted, because Marks comes right next to Malfoy. Sage looks positively fuming, because Laurent comes next to Longbottom, and if she has to sit through one more lesson of Snape taking the piss out of Neville, she might actually blow a fuse.

"Hey," she greets him when she plonks down beside him. He smiles. "If he says anything to you, I'm going to kick his arse, got it?"

Neville nods gratefully, and she can feel Snape's eyes bearing into her head.

"Greasy bastard," she grumbles, and flicks open her textbook.

Snape stands up, looking like a massive black creature of the night, shrouded by the semi-darkness of the room. The wind is rattling the window panes and rain is falling so heavily that if it weren't for the charms across the castle, they'd all have to shout to be heard. Sage narrows her eyes and doesn't break gaze from their unwanted professor.

"Now, as Professor Lupin has left no record of what you've covered previously-"

Sage wishes Hermione could keep her mouth shut. But the girl apparently can't, so she calls, "Actually, Professor, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows, and we're just about to start-"

"Be quiet," Snape says harshly, and Hermione looks down at her lap. Sage is ready to beat the everliving shit out of him, Professor or not. Someday, she'll get a right good whack around his head. Someday, she'll deck him so hard his ancestors can feel it. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organisation."

"Oh, shut up," Sage snaps.

Snape, without moving his gaze from somewhere in mid-air, says, "Detention, Laurent."

She snarls, "Gladly."

Dean says, "He's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," and Sage reaches back to high-five him.

Snape's half-covered in shadow, and he looks like a horror movie villain. Sage considers beginning to call him Nosferatu.

"You are easily satisfied," Snape says, as if daring for someone to interrupt him. "Lupin is hardly over-taxing you. I would expect first-years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss werewolves.

"Now," Snape says. Sage starts devising a plan to replace the milk in his morning tea with Conner's shit. "Which of you can tell me the difference between the werewolf and the true wolf?"

He's staring straight at Sage and ignoring Hermione, who's wiggling her hand in the air like the cute little dork she is.

"Sir, why are you looking at me? Hermione's the one with her hand up," Sage says flatly. She hears Stevie snicker from a few seats down. "Looking like a bat all the time must be starting to affect you, seeing as you've got the eyesight of one."

The whole class snorts and snickers and stifles laughter. Even Neville braves a laugh, but soon quietens when he sees the smoke coming from Snape's ears.

"Quiet!" He roars, and everybody's startled into silence. "One more word, Laurent, and you'll be paying a visit to your head of house."

Sage perks up considerably at this offer and salutes to him with two fingers. Snape's spine straightens. She reminds him of her father and he hates her all the more for it.

"Seeing as none of you can tell me the basic distinction between a werewolf and a-"

"Please, sir," Hermione calls. Sage smacks her head against the desk. "The werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of a true wolf is slightly-"

"Miss Granger," Snape says, his tone silky and cruel, "That is the second time you've spoken out of turn. Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

That's it, Sage decides. She sees Hermione trying not to shed tears in front of her, she sees Neville gripping her hand to stop her from standing up, she sees Stevie making motions across her throat to stop Sage from doing something ridiculous. So, Sage ignores it all. She stands up and clears her throat to catch Snape's attention.

"Professor," she says calmly, her tone politer than she'd ever used with the man. He raises his eyebrows. "I think I've just learnt something incredible."

His smile twists. "And that is?"

"I've always wanted to be a Professor, you know, keep the profession in the family," she smiles, "And you've just taught me absolutely every not to do if I want to make a successful career. Thanks for being a horrible example to us all."

"Sage Laurent," he hisses, walking up to tower over her. His sallow skin has turned red with anger. "Professor McGonagall's office. Now."

"For sure," she beams. She reaches over to pat Hermione's shoulder, offers Stevie a smile, and trots out of class.

a/n: i love my sagey baby i don't even care if i'm tooting my own trumpet