The Five Winters - Harry Potter FanFic.net

The Five Winters - Chapter 1 to 20 - Harry Potter FanFic.net

Hello. This is a fanfiction that I found very interesting so I took the chance to post it for you all and for myself too ^^ I don't own anything of what is posted here and the original source is: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5775949/1/The_Five_Winters

These are the first 20 chapters. Enjoy.

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Chapter 1

October Accidents

The classroom went quiet as Snape swept through the classroom door and slammed it shut behind him with the forceful bang that indicated his mood today was in incredibly high dudgeon. He strode to the front of the classroom and then turned to face the students.

"I was unsurprised at the absymal results of last week's test," he drawled, "and I would tell you that I expect better, except that I really don't. However," he continued, his eyes alighting upon the students at the Gryffindor end of the room, where the Golden Trio sat together at their usual shared table, "I have come up with a theory of sorts."

The students held their breath, imagining the worst to come.

"It would seem that some students," he said, placing careful emphasis on the word 'some', "Think they can get good grades by mooching off other student's work, turning it in, and then applying their scattered and incomplete knowledge to a test."

Potter and Weasley looked slightly wary, and they were not the only ones. A few other students shifted uneasily in their seats.

"So I have decided to reconstruct the seating arrangements in this class," Snape went on, a malicious smile gracing his lips.

"Granger!" he suddenly barked, and the girl jumped in surprise. "Switch seats with Mister Goyle. Potter, you will take the seat next to Miss Bulstrode. Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "I doubt you all will so much as scrape by an 'acceptable' in this class if Miss Granger is no longer whispering into your ears."

The Slytherins laughed appreciatively at this remark. Potter turned an unattractive shade of red with humiliation- he knew Snape was doing this purely for amusement. Although it was true that for the last seven years, Hermione's constant management of her potion as well as theirs was the only reason they'd managed to scrape by, Harry felt Snape's attitude about the matter was unfair. He and Hermione reluctantly stood up and moved to their reassigned seats, leaving Weasley stranded at the table with Goyle and Longbottom.

"Five points apiece for delay, Potter, Granger," Snape remarked caustically as they moved to their new seats. They knew better than to respond. It would only mean more point loss, especially given the horrid mood Snape was in now.

"Take out your books," Snape said, reverting to his usual lazy drawl, as though he had not just unnecessarily humiliated a few Gryffindors and docked ten points. "Page six-hundred and sixty-nine. Today you will be attempting to brew Substantia Despero, otherwise known as the Essence of Despair…"

"What thing crawled into his morning porridge and died, eh?" Ron muttered to Neville.

"Ten points for rudeness, Weasley," Snape said, "and another five for disruption. Now, if you actually did your assigned reading last night- which I highly doubt many of you have done- you would be able to tell me how the Substantia Despero works, and what it is commonly used for."

Hermione slowly raised her hand when she saw no others were forthcoming- she had taken to raising her hand only when no one else did, in an attempt to draw less attention to herself as a know-it-all swot, yet she could not keep herself from answering when feasibly possible. Seeing no one else availing themselves to answer, Snape irritably turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger?"

"The Substantia Despero works much like a Dementor's pressence does, Sir," Hermione answered respectfully, "except its effects run much deeper- it unlocks all negatively associated memories and pushes them to the forefront of the user's mind, while placing all other memories under a sort of temporary block that prevents them from being accessed. The victim often goes mad with grief if the antidote is not administered within the first forty-eight hours, being unable to think of anything else except for the most disturbing and unhappy memories and events experienced in their life, without being able to balance or counteract it with more positive thoughts. It is often used as a torture device, Sir, where small sips of it are given to the prisoner, followed shortly by doses of the antidote and then more of the potion- it is an unbalancing psychological effect that is well-known for its ability to break people through constant application."

"Reguritated almost word for word from any copy of Advanced Potion-Making," Snape said dismissively, "But otherwise correct. It was a popular tool of the Dark Lord's-" the operative word being 'was', as Voldemort had been disposed of the year before, "-when he had a particularly strong-willed witch or wizard from whom he needed information from and could not otherwise acquire."

Like through Occlumency, Hermione thought immediately, but she did not voice this thought out loud.

"You will attempt to brew this potion. You will not finish in the two hours available in this class period. It is to be brought to me, bottled and labled, to my desk at the end of class. Be warned," Snape continued, "that the ingredients are very volatile, and should therefore be handled with care." With one last cursory glare at the class, he uttered: "Begin."

Hermione, who was seated next to Malfoy now that she had switched seats with Goyle, immediately got out her cauldron and began setting up her supplies. Proping her book up against her schoolbag, she quickly recited the list of necessary ingredients and went to retrieve them from the supply cupboard.

Soon, the class was working in studious silence. The effervescence caused by the combining of fluxweed and armadillo bile half-way through the instructions caused wisps of smoky purple steam to rise from the surface of the cauldrons, making visiblity in the dungeons low. Hermione and Malfoy were among the few whose cauldrons were actually purple- Harry's was a dark maroon with the consistency of wet cement. Ron's was green and emitting sparks, and was effectively Evanescoed by a horribly triumphant-looking Snape.

"Zero for the class, Weasley, and a fourteen-inch essay on the proper procedure for adding the beetle carapace," Snape smirked. Neville's tar-like concoction met the same fate as Weasley's. "You too, Longbottom. The powdered moonstone should have been added before the fluxweed, not after."

Malfoy smirked at this, but it was rather half-hearted. He still hated Potter, but as he was no longer fighting for the side of the Dark, he was no longer forced to hold up a charade of pure hatred for all the other Gryffindors, foolish though he found them.

He was sharing ingredients with Granger, which were spread out in an organized pile between the two of them. Hermione, focusing only on her cauldron, held out her hand to Malfoy, not turning to look at him. "Pass me the Ginseng, Malfoy? I can't reach it," she exclaimed, as she bent over to lower the heat under the cauldron.

Malfoy slid the ingredient over to her and turned back to his cauldron. "Have you noticed that he only ever humiliates you three in class whenever he thinks you need to be taken down a peg?"

"What?" Hermione asked distractedly as she began slicing the Ginseng.

Malfoy smirked good-naturedly as he added the powdered remains of watered-down nightshade. "Well, let's see," he said. "Fourth year, it was after Skeeter's article-"

"Which you had a hand in, I believe," Hermione told him testily, but it was still said somewhat affectionately- while they were not bosom buddies, Hermione and Malfoy had gotten on good terms since the war had ended. Malfoy never made a reference to Hermione's heritage, and Hermione refrained from asking him about his parents- both of whom were free of the threat of Azkaban, but rather disgraced as far as society was concerned.

"Well, yes," Malfoy conceeded. "But now that you three are the glorified hailed heroes of the Wizarding world, he feels a little humility, to stop your over-large egos from weighing your heads down so much that you hit the floor and earn a concussion, might do you good. In the long run, of course."

"Malfoy, we were fighting a psychopathic, sociopathic, mentally-disturbed man, with too much power in his hands and an obsession with killing Harry," Hermione told him tiredly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she watched her cauldron simmer for the required five minutes. "There was hardly any 'glory', as you put it."

"You're still hailed as the three heroes who can do no wrong," Malfoy countered. Hermione would have smacked him playfully, had she not been focused on making sure her potion came out right.

"Hardly," she insisted. "Did I tell you about the time I stole from the Professor's private storeroom so that we could brew Polyjuice Potion in our second year?"

"What the hell did you need Polyjuice Potion for?" Malfoy asked suspiciously.

"We thought you might be the Heir of Slytherin," Hermione said slowly. "So Harry and Ron turned themselves into Crabbe and Goyle."

Malfoy's lips twitched, as though fighting amusement. "Lovely. And who did you turn into?"

"Well, I ended up as a… half… cat…" Hermione said, turning red at the memory. Malfoy burst into laughter.

"I'd always wondered how that had happened!"

"Twenty-five minutes left," Snape snapped at them as he passed by their table. They waited until he'd moved onto another table before continuing their discussion.

"I spent weeks in the hospital wing," Hermione grumbled. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to sit upright with a tail? It feels like you're sitting on your spine."

"Pray tell how did you get the idea to try turning yourself into a cat?"

"It was an accident!" Hermione said furiously. "I had no idea Millicent Bulstrode had a cat! I meant to turn into her!"

"I will forever savor the memory," Malfoy said dreamily. "Hermione Granger, swot extraordinaire, unable to tell the difference between human hair and cat hair."

"That's hardly fair," Hermione told him, returning her attention to her cauldron to begin stirring it clockwise. "I seem to recall Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing rat?"

"It was a ferret!" Malfoy said, his ears turning pink.

But the grin remained plastered on Hermione's face for the rest of the class. As she walked up to Snape's desk to turn her potion in, she turned away to clean up her side of the desk when there was a sound of shattering glass. She whipped around in time to see her labled bottle, as well as four others, smashed on the ground, next to Goyle. Snape looked up from where he had been grading first-year essays.

"This must indeed be a first," Snape said softly, smirking. "The Gryffindor know-it-all earns a zero for today's class."

Furious, Hermione turned around to bottle another flask when she realized the contents of her cauldron had been emptied. Malfoy was standing there, wand aloft, stunned, his gaze moving between Hermione, Snape, Goyle, and the smashed bottles on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, looking shell-shocked. "I- I thought'd I'd clean up the cauldrons so you could put the supplies away-"

But the expression on Hermione's face had gone from determination to cold, inconsolable misery. Wordlessly, she went to put the unused ingredients back, fuming at the unfairness of it all. Goyle looked thuggishly pleased with himself. Hermione wanted to hex him into next week. Two hours of hard work down the drain.

Never, in seven years of Potions, had Hermione achieved anything less than an "Outstanding."

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry said, trying to console her as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. "That happened to me a few years back, remember? It's just one class. And he knocked over my flask, too,'' he added.

"You don't understand," Hermione said bitterly, almost to tears. "It was two hours of wasted work, Harry! And all I get for my efforts is a- a zero."

"Come off it," Ron said. "It's just one class. One tiny little zero won't kill you."

This was clearly the wrong thing to say.

A moment later saw Hermione storming off to the Library in a huff, and Ron rubbing a red hand-shaped print plastering his face where Hermione had smacked him across the face.

"Blimey," he said. "What's her problem?"

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Chapter 2

October Frost

Hermione skipped lunch, was absent at dinner, and could not be located in the Head Girl's rooms. Logic concluded that she had ensconced herself in the Library, which was indeed where Harry and Ron found her when they finally went looking for her.

"I brought some treacle tart," Ron told her through a mouthful of the chewy fudge.

"No food in the Library!" Hermione hissed, looking up from her book. She looked around furtively. "If Madam Pince catches you-"

It was at that moment that the librarian in question swooped down on them. The three of them fled the library amidst the sounds of shrieking and accusations of depravity and despoilment. A few books chased them on the way out, flapping angrily at the fleeing trio.

"Nice going, Ron," Hermione told him tartly as they made their way back to Gryffindor tower. She cast a Tempus, which informed her that it was an hour before curfew. "See if she ever lets us in the library again."

"She got over the chocolate eggs," Harry told her. At Ron's confused look, he added; "Fourth Year. Ginny brought your mum's Easter eggs into the library. The old hag almost had an aneurysm."

"I'm going up to bed," Hermione said tiredly. Today had not been a good day for her, and all she wanted to do now was curl up in her Head Girl rooms, lock herself in, and relax with a book. And perhaps some tea.

"Why don't you come hang out with us in the Common Room?" Ron asked hopefully.

"No thank you," Hermione replied testily. She bid them both a terse 'Good night!' and strode off in the direction of her rooms.

Once Hermione was out of earshot, Harry turned to Ron. "I think you're going about it the wrong way, mate."

Ron's ears turned red. "I thought she'd appreciate the food, since she skipped dinner."

"I don't think Hermione shares your appreciation for food," Harry said, trying to nudge him into a different tactic. "You know Hermione likes books, academics, anything that challenges her brain. She's not going to be interested in being told a zero in class won't hurt her, or being brought food, or even discussing Quidditch."

"Why wouldn't she want to discuss Quidditch?" Ron asked in confusion. "Everyone loves Quidditch."

"But Hermione doesn't, mate," Harry said, realizing at this moment that despite seven years of friendship, Ron didn't really know Hermione at all. He had a sinking feeling that this was turning into a bad idea. "Maybe you should just give up for now. Give her some space- she's focused on NEWTs right now, maybe you should respect that."

"But Quidditch, Harry!" Ron said. "It's the best sport in the world! And NEWTs are eight months away! We've got all year!"

"I'm not sure if you can understand this, Ron," Harry said, "but to me, it seems that Hermione's spent her entire life preparing for NEWTs. This is her moment. I don't think she's interested in your advances right now- however subtle and well-meaning they are."

Ron's face immediately became crestfallen. Harry hurried on, trying to remedy the situation. "Just give her time, Ron. Wait until the hols to try to win her over- she's always willing to let go a bit then. And then wait until the end of the year before anything gets serious, until after NEWTs are completed. I think she'll really respect you more if you give her the time and space she needs for something this important to her."

Ron nodded absently at this. "Yeah, you're right. I'll win her over at Christmas." He immediately got a mischievous look on his face. "And then once NEWTs are done, I'll propose to her."

"I think you're skipping a few important steps there, Ron," Harry said, his hopes for this turning out to be a successful endeavor sinking quickly. "You're missing the part where you date solidly for a few months, get to know each other."

"I've known her for seven years, Harry," said Ron confidently. "I know all there is to know about Hermione."

Harry shook his head, seeing this was a lost cause. He would step back and let the two of them work it out, or watch it self-destruct. Either way, this was going to end explosively.

Why couldn't he have a peaceful school year for once?

~o~O~o~

Next Saturday morning, Hermione was taken aside by McGonagall to discuss options.

"I know you owled me at beginning of the year to discuss career and study options," her head of house told her over a cup of tea and ginger newts. "What is it you have in mind?"

"I spent the summer thinking it over," Hermione said, taking a sip of tea. "I've spent seven years of my life learning and, when necessary, teaching other students. I realize that I really do like the idea of teaching, and-" She paused to try to sort out her words. "- I was thinking that, since Professor Dumbledore is retiring soon, and you'd be Headmistress, it might be possible for me to become the next Transfiguration teacher."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," McGonagall praised. "I would love for you to take over the post when I take over as Headmistress. You'd be an appropriate candidate for the job, and as you've pointed out, you've had valuable experience with tutoring students in the past. I've seen the study sessions you hold for the students struggling in class, and the rapid improvement they make under you." She popped a ginger newt into her mouth. "I will speak to Professor Dumbledore about it this evening. I'm sure he will be delighted to know you have an interest in taking over the Transfiguration post, and I would be happy to apprentice you."

"How long do apprenticeships last, Professor?"

"Three years," McGonagall replied. "You would stay in the castle and be considered a member of staff for the duration of your apprenticeship, and once you take over, you would be given the quarters that go along with the post."

Hermione was absolutely delighted.

Ron was decidedly less so, when she told him.

"Why would you want to teach?" he asked. "I thought you'd pass your NEWTs, graduate, go into the Ministry with Harry and me-"

"I'm not interested in becoming a bureaucrat," Hermione told him. "I want to teach. It's a wonderful profession, to impart knowledge to young minds."

"But I thought once you graduated, we'd be able to date properly!" Ron said, ears turning red. When Hermione gave him a strange look, he mumbled: "I was going to leave the topic of dating alone until you graduated because NEWTs mean so much to you, and then ask you out to dinner as a graduation treat."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said. "I appreciate the interest, I really do. And I appreciate your understanding how important my NEWTs are to me. But it's just…" she fumbled around for a moment, "I just don't think it'd work out. I'd be teaching, you'd be an Auror, we'd hardly get to see each other…"

Harry, who was sitting next to the two, privately had to agree.

"Won't you just give it a chance, 'Mione?" asked Ron, eyes wide. He looked at her beseechingly.

I'm not sure that's a good idea anymore, Harry mused as Hermione thought Ron's words over carefully.

"I- I suppose we could give it a try," she said carefully, "but nothing serious until after NEWTs are over. I need all my time and energy for that. After, we'll see where my apprenticeship will allow for a relationship."

"Perfect," Ron said eagerly. He was already imagining life after school- fantasies of proposing to her in front of his family, announcing their engagement, and then living in a house near the Burrow with kids filled his mind. Hermione, on the other hand, was absently thinking of how this relationship-in-progress might affect her apprenticeship. Would Ron take up too much of her time? Would things become too demanding for her to give both things the attention they needed?

"But I'm still not sure," she said absently. "I mean, if it takes too much time away from my studies, then I suppose it would have to wait until the apprenticeship were complete-"

"But that's not fair, 'Mione," Ron said, "You could date and study with both hands tied behind your back, so what's stopping you?"

"I- I'm not sure," she said carefully, "I mean, I want to focus on teaching. And right now, I just don't see you that- that way… and I'm not sure we're looking for the same thing."

"What do you want?" Ron asked, irritation starting to creep into his voice. This was not going as he had planned. He had expected more enthusiasm from Hermione at the prospect of dating him- he, Ronald Weasley, War Hero and Quidditch Star. Why wasn't she jumping for joy at an opportunity plenty of other girls would be happy to take?

"Well, I want to make myself useful, so something worthwhile," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I want to make contributions. I want to teach and do private research, do some traveling over the holidays and the summer, maybe write a book."

"You could do that all at home, 'Mione," Ron said, "Well, minus the teaching, but you could skip that, couldn't you?"

"No, I couldn't," Hermione said just a bit testily. "I know what you want, Ron, and I can't give it to you. I can't be your mother. I'm not Mrs. Weasley, housewife and mother extraordinaire."

"You don't want children?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Not for a few years, at least," Hermione said, "and definitely not more than two."

The debate went downhill from there. Ron seemed to think that Hermione would get used to the idea of being the next Mrs. Weasley, ("You just need time! Reading all those textbooks has scrambled your priorities."), and Hermione was slowly beginning to see the gap between them grow ever wider when it became clear just how incompatible they were- not even dating and they were already arguing. She insisted that she didn't want enough children to form their own Quidditch team, and Ron was firmly convinced she was just being stubborn and playing hard to get.

Hermione was starting to get seriously irritated at this point, and was about to let loose with a remark about how she could care less if he married the Giant Squid when Harry cleared his throat to get their attention.

"I think Hermione's right, Ron," he said quietly. The war had aged him in such a way that he now spoke with the same quiet determination and wisdom that was usually found in Dumbledore- perhaps that was how he had become after Grindelwald. War changed a person; "You're just not suited to each other- you want different things in life. Why don't the two of you stop here before you end up ruining your friendship?"

"But Harry-" Ron had clearly not matured, if the whine in his voice was anything to go by.

"Don't go whinging to Harry about this," Hermione told him. "And he's right. The only thing that really brought us together was the fact that we're both Gryffindors, both friends of Harry Potter, and we both got thrown into an insane war. Beyond that, we have very little in common." She took a deep breath, and her next words were gentler, "I want your friendship, Ron. I love you, but I don't think I could ever be in love with you."

And with that, she gathered her things and headed off for Arithmancy, leaving Ron to absorb all that had been said.

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Chapter 3

October Freeze

Hermione later received a missive from Professor Dumbledore at lunchtime, delivered by an overeager Hufflepuff third-year, inviting her to his office directly after dinner to "discuss matters at hand." Hermione was delighted, assuming this meant they would be discussing her options as an apprentice, and quickly stuffed the scroll into her bag as she headed off to Charms class.

It was during dinner, however, that Hermione discovered that her day was about to get difficult. It there was anything to be said about Ron, it was that he did not give up easily, and he did not let matters go quickly.

When Hermione entered the Great Hall, Ron immediately scooted over to make room for her. The moment she sat down, Ron then shifted closer to her and pulled out a slab of Honeydukes chocolate and put it on her plate, smiling at her with what was supposed to be a friendly, winning smile.

Hermione stared at the chocolate. It was heart shaped. "Er- Ron-?"

"Just letting you know I haven't given up on you," Ron said, "And that I won't. I like you, 'Mione. I really do. And I know you like me too," he added confidently, "You said so last night."

He obviously had not gotten everything she'd said. "I said I love you, Ron, but that I'm not iin/i love with you," she said, trying to keep her voice gentle, but the irritation was starting to build up. "I'm not interested in anything but a platonic relationship with you."

"You'll come around," Ron said. This seemed to be his personal motto: That she would come around, that she would somehow suddenly realize she loved him and wanted to marry him and be a housewife.

This, of course, would never happen to Hermione Granger in a million years.

Hermione frowned. "I'm sorry, Ron, but I can't accept this," she said, handing the chocolate back to him. She could see that he was serious when he said he wouldn't give up easily, and her heart sank when she realized they were going to be in for a rocky start to a perfectly Voldemort-free year. She supposed the best way to make him stop would be to not encourage him. Maybe after he saw that she really was serious, he would let the matter drop and their friendship wouldn't be sacrificed to his misguided attempt to woo her.

A multitude of emotions crossed Ron's face as he took the chocolate back from his would-be girlfriend. A mixture of anger, hurt, and humiliation flashed by quickly, followed by what could only be described as Gryffindor stubbornness and determination. Hermione's heart sank further when she saw this. Grabbing her book bags, she stood up.

"I have somewhere to be," she said by way of explanation. Abandoning her untouched food, she left the Great Hall quickly. Once outside, she took a moment to calm herself- she was feeling miserable now, upset at having to hurt Ron and also upset that he was not listening to her. Didn't he realize that he was going to drive a wedge between them if this continued? She loved him as a friend, and after everything they'd been through the last seven years, she didn't want to lose that friendship. Deciding that she wouldn't let this happen, she resolved to avoid Ron as much as possible until his infatuation with her wore off. Perhaps she should talk to Lavender- she knew the girl still loved Ron, and would likely jump at the chance to get together with him.

Perhaps she could set them up. Yes, that sounded about right: send Ron a note telling him to meet her in the Room of Requirement, inform Lavender of her intentions, and then step back to let the concoction stir itself.

Pleased with herself, she resolved to do this if, by the end of the week, Ron had not given up on her. She would only resort to such drastic measures if she had to, if only to save their friendship. She liked Ron, and had at one point been enamored of him, but she had grown out of it. It had really been nothing more than a silly crush. Unfortunately, just as she had abandoned any fantasies of dating Ron, Ron had apparently finally noticed that she was a girl- no, a woman- and wanted her, and his apparent interest in her had gone beyond just being another 'crush'.

Hermione made her way to the Headmaster's office and stopped at the stone gargoyle.

"Sugar Quill," she said, and the gargoyle jumped aside to admit her. She knocked twice on the door, and then entered.

Dumbledore looked up from where he appeared to be penning a letter to smile at her.

"Thank you for being very prompt, as always, Miss Granger," he said. "If you would just give me a moment to finish this letter…"

"Of course, Sir," Hermione said, taking a seat on one of the comfy red armchairs and crossing her legs.

"Lemon Drop?" Dumbledore offered.

"No thank you, Sir," Hermione said, smiling a bit. "They're very acidic- bad for the teeth. I suppose that being the daughter of two dentists, its second nature to avoid food that wears your teeth away."

Dumbledore chuckled at this; "Of course."

Hermione waited for him to finish the letter. Fawkes sat on his perch, preening himself, stunning in his bright red and gold plumage. Hermione tentatively reached out a hand to him, and he promptly flapped over to her chair, resting on the armrest of her chair. He let loose a musical trill.

"Hello, Fawkes," Hermione greeted. The bird let out another musical note, and then fell silent, sitting serenely as he allowed Hermione to stroke him.

Dumbledore promptly finished the letter, set his quill down, and leaned back in his chair.

"Minerva has brought it to my attention that you have aspirations of becoming the next Transfiguration professor, after she takes over as Headmistress," Dumbledore said. "I was, of course, delighted to hear this, because we were all rather a bit worried about who would be taking over the post," he chuckled. "I almost thought that now that the Defense Against the Dark Arts job is no longer cursed, the Transfiguration post would carry on the legacy."

Hermione chuckled in response to this, and the Headmaster smiled and continued: "And you are, of course, a very good candidate for the job. So now I must ask you if you are truly serious about this, as being a teacher is a commitment, and apprenticing under one with the intentions of taking over the post is not something to take lightly. I hope you've thought this through?"

"You should know me well enough to know that I take my commitments very seriously, Sir," Hermione said. "I have indeed thought this through. I spent all summer thinking it over, in fact, and I am quite sure that I'm mature enough to know my own mind."

"Of course," Dumbledore said genially. "But now that I'm reassured that your intentions are sincere, we can move forward. I've been informed by all your teachers that you could easily pass your NEWTs now, if you had a mind to, and it set me thinking that perhaps you would like to sit your exams now, and start the apprenticeship immediately after. You would cease to be a student, of course, and would take on a different project, one that pertains more directly to your apprenticeship."

Hermione took a moment to think this over. "Could I have a month to prepare for the exams, Professor?"

"That could be arranged," Dumbledore said with a nod.

"Then I should like that," Hermione said, pleased with how this was turning out.

"Now that that's settled, I believe we should discuss your project," Dumbledore said, leaning over to the side to retrieve a slip of parchment from his desk drawer.

"Project, Sir?"

"Every apprentice must complete a project concerning the subject they intend to take an apprenticeship in, to prove they have both the talent for the subject and other required skills," Dumbledore said. "In the case of Potions, you would have to prove your intuitiveness and creativity as you developed or altered a potion of your own. In Charms, you would've had to do something similar- create a new spell or alter an already existing one to suit a new purpose. In the case of Transfiguration," he said, passing the sheaf of paper to Hermione to read, "You have to either pick an option listed here, or develop your own project idea and have it approved by Professor McGonagall."

Hermione took a moment to scan the list. Her brow furrowed; "Professor-"

"I advise you to look over the list and confer with Professor McGonagall about it," Dumbledore continued. "I will make the proper arrangements for you to sit your NEWT exams in November. Once they have been concluded, and your scores processed, you will cease to be a student and will then be regarded as a member of staff," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling seriously behind his half-moon spectacles: "I will be pulling you from all your current classes, where you will be expected to use your newfound free time to prepare for your upcoming NEWTs."

Hermione took a moment to process this, and then nodded.

"Thank you, Professor."

"You may go," Dumbledore said, by way of dismissal.

Hermione nodded and left with a grin plastered on her face.

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Chapter 4

October Fireworks

Hermione was sitting in the library, curled up in her favorite corner where the stained glass windows slanted over, casting shots of multicolored light onto the plush corner couch. She was mulling over the list Dumbledore had given her, biting her lower lip unconciously as she went through her options. She could invent a new spell or modify an existing one, as could be done in all other apprenticeships, but she wanted to do something a bit more unique.

She continued to peruse the list. She could study the effects transfiguration had on certain animals and objects, write up a report, and then provide a demonstration. She could even combine subjects if she wished; the list gave an example of a project done by a previous student who transfigured a potion into mist while managing to retain all its original properties. This was one of the options that interested her the most; potions always had to either be drunk or applied topically, and the idea of transfiguring one to be taken through inhalation was truly fascinating.

Another option that held her interest was finding her animagus form. She mused over how difficult it was, it took years to achieve, but how very rewarding it would be in the end.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she did not hear someone coming to her left until they were already standing at her side, looming over her. She looked up in surprise, dropping the list as she did so.

"Professor Snape?" she said warily. She hoped he wasn't there simply to detract points and degrade her; she didn't have the time or energy to spare over such things right now.

The man glared down at her.

"I was surprised to hear from your other teachers that you skipped your classes today," he said, cocking his head to the side as if in contemplation. "Indeed, who would have guessed that Hermione Granger, Head Girl and insufferable swot, would have deigned that classes are much too far below her ken, and, instead, spends her day in the Library revising alone?"

Hermione looked up at him in confusion. "Sir? But - Professor Dumbledore-?"

"- Dropped you from your classes. Yes, I am aware," Snape snapped at her irritably. It was at this admission that Hermione realized his previous statement had merely been an attempt to unbalance her. That man has too much time on his hands, she thought furiously. It was either that, or he needed a new hobby. "I am merely here to inform you- on the Headmaster's orders, of course- that it is now lunch time, and, unless you intend to starve, you should make haste and go to the Great Hall."

"Thank you, Sir," Hermione said, endeavoring to keep her tone neutral. She was about to set her books down- she'd merely been examining her list while taking a breather from reviewing Arithmancy- when Snape leaned down and picked up her dropped list.

"What's this rubbish?" he asked, examining it with thinly-veiled interest.

"It's the list of options available to me regarding my apprenticeship project," Hermione told him, studiously ignoring the insult. His implying that she was spending time looking at something useless was an insult to iher/i, but something no one else would probably think twice about. He certainly knew how to push her buttons. Gathering up her things and putting them in her book bag, she added, "but I'm stuck. I can't decide whether to transfigure potions to a gaseous state or achieve my animagus form- they're both very interesting, fascinating projects..."

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. In a voice surprisingly lacking in venom, he suggested, "Why not choose both?"

Hermione's gaze snapped up to meet his. "Sir?"

"Achieving one's animagus form takes years," Snape informed her. "You would surely not achieve that in eight months, no matter how talented a witch you are. You should instead focus on a short-term project, complete it, and then choose to pursue the animagus option in your spare time. Who knows," he said, the sneer returning to his face, "you may even get extra points for being such an overachiever."

Ignoring the backhanded compliment in favor of contemplating the professor's words, Hermione slowly came to the realization that he was right. She should have thought of that earlier- the animagus project was likely listed there for apprentices who had already been studying it for years. She nodded absently, almost to herself, and muttered; "You're right, of course. I should've considered that before…"

"Again," Snape said with a disdainful sneer, "overachieving swot. I believe your friends have called you that on more than one memorable occasion." He dropped the list back onto the floor and turned around to leave. "I suggest you inform Minerva of your decision after lunch."

And with that, he swept away without another word. Hermione watched his retreating back, and then turned to finish gathering up her things.

When she finally made it to the Great Hall, it was to find that her seat across from Ron had both a rose and a card next to her plate. She swept past it and took a seat next to Ginny, who gladly scooted over to make room for her. Hermione had been somewhat worried about how Ginny would react to her spurning of Ron's advances, but she really had nothing to worry about. Ginny had more brains and sense than her brother, and was very understanding.

"Don't worry about my brother," she said cheerfully. "When a girl says no, she means no. He just doesn't realize it yet." She paused to take a bite of kipper. "His head is so swollen with fame that he doesn't understand why anyone would turn him down."

"I realize that now," Hermione said miserably, pulling a sausage onto her plate. "The problem is, I don't really fancy him all that much anymore, and now he's almost…" she trailed off.

"Obsessed? Yeah, I know," Ginny said, "He obviously missed whatever chance he had with you years ago."

"I did used to fancy him," Hermione admitted, "back in sixth year. I grew out of it."

"He fancied you then, too," Ginny assured her. "He only dated Lavender because she was going gaga over him, and he wanted to make you jealous."

"If he thought that making me jealous would work, I really don't know what to say," Hermione mumbled. "If he'd just asked, things might've turned out differently."

"I doubt it," Ginny said. "Even if you started dating in sixth year, you probably would've broken up eventually. You're not right for eachother." At Hermione's look of surprise, Ginny added: "All Ron ever talks about is being an Auror and Quidditch. You'd be bored to tears within a week."

"You're right about that too," Hermione admitted. "Unfortunately, he seems to have gotten it in his head that we'd make the perfect couple."

"It's what people are expecting the two of you to do," Ginny said with a nod. "Did you know, Mum told me she couldn't wait to have you as a daughter-in-law last summer?"

Hermione's gut wrenched at these words. She didn't want to disappoint people- pleasing people, garnering their admiration and respect, was something she needed. But she didn't want to earn it by marrying Ron, and, if she was honest with herself, that kind of respect wasn't what she was looking for. She wanted to be considered for her intelligence, strength, and contributions, not as the good Head Girl who did the right thing and married her long-time childhood friend.

The more she thought about it, the more wrong it seemed to her. Ginny apparently read her thoughts, and piped in. "But don't worry, it doesn't matter what other people think. You're not an idol to be swayed by the masses, Hermione. You're not going to marry my brother just to make everything a storybook ending; that would just be stupid."

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione said. She was truly grateful for the support. Mrs. Weasley might not take it well, but Hermione doubted she would be angry, just disappointed. She had made no commitment to Ron, and it would be wrong of Mrs. Weasley to act as though she had. And if anything went wrong, Harry could speak to her and make her see sense where Hermione or Ginny wouldn't be able to. Much relieved, Hermione relaxed and tackled her sausage with renewed vigour.

"No problem, Hermione," Ginny said with a friendly grin. Silence ensued as the two girls ate their lunches, before Ginny said, "Tell me about this apprenticeship you're doing."

"Professor Dumbledore's given me a month to prepare for my NEWTs," Hermione told her, glad that Ginny had changed the subject. "Once I complete that, I'll have eight months in which to start my apprenticeship project."

"Apprenticeship project?"

"It's to gauge my aptitude for the subject beyond knowing the basic theories and spells," Hermione explained. "Anyone can learn how to transfigure a gerbil into a cup, but it takes some creativity and initiative to be able to master the subject as a whole."

"Smart," Ginny said approvingly. "Have you chosen your project?"

"I'm going to combine Transfiguration and Potions to develop a method of turning potions into a mist to be inhaled rather than drunk," Hermione said. "The previous student who developed the idea only managed to get as far as the basic theory. I'll figure out how to actually do it."

"If anyone can, it'll be you," Ginny said confidently. "I haven't forgotten the DA. That trick with the Galleons was pretty clever."

"Even if it was inspired by Voldemort's Dark Mark," Hermione said.

"Well, I'll say this, and hope you take it the right way," Ginny said. "You're the kind of person who absorbs information, tweaks it, and then reapplies it. You're good at building off of other people's work to improve it. And," she said, holding up a hand to stop Hermione from interrupting, "you'll probably read this student's theory, edit it, do some research, and then put it all together to make the final product. You're not going to develop a spell out of the blue the way Harry did last year."

"Harry didn't develop those spells," Hermione said, thinking of the Half-Blood Prince's book, "he got them from that old Potions book Slughorn lent him, but I think whoever owned the book before him made them."

Ginny's eyebrows rose in surprise. "So that's where he got that levitating spell!" Hermione nodded, and Ginny went on. "Either way, that person had the creativity and intuitiveness needed to develop the spells that didn't previously exist. You're good at modifying things to improve them. If this student has a workable theory, you'll be the one to figure out how to actually accomplish it."

Hermione sat up a bit straighter, pleased with the praise. "Thank you, Ginny."

"Anything else?" Ginny asked, pulling another slice of shepherd's pie onto her plate.

Hermione hesitated. She wanted to tell Ginny about her goal to become an animagus, but she didn't want the whole of Gryffindor to find out; not yet. The niggling fear in the back of Hermione's mind suggested that she might not actually succeed, and Hermione couldn't stand trying and failing, knowing that everyone else would know as well. Hermione only did the things that she had a possibility of failing privately. But Ginny could be trusted to keep a secret, and it would be nice to have someone to confide in.

"You can't tell anyone else this," Hermione said, lowering her voice so that only Ginny could hear, "but I'm also going to train to be an animagus."

Ginny's eyes went as wide as saucers.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione! That's awesome." Ginny took a bite out of her sausage. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Do you know what animal?"

"Haven't a clue," Hermione said, "but as long as it's not an insect, I think I can live with whatever it is."

"Oh, right," Ginny said, grinning. "Rita Skeeter. She was a beetle, wasn't she?"

"I sealed her in a jar for two weeks and kept her secret as blackmail," Hermione said with grim pleasure. "That's how I got her to write the article in fifth year printing Harry's account of Vol-Voldemort's return."

Ginny's temple gave an involuntary twitch at the name, but she shrugged it off. "Well, I'll bet you'll end up being a bird. A hawk, maybe."

"I don't like flying," Hermione reminded her.

"That's right, I was thinking of me," Ginny said cheekily. She finished her sausage and shoved her plate aside. "I've got to go. Class starts in ten minutes."

"See you later, then," Hermione said. The moment Ginny left, the seat was immediately taken by Ron. Hermione made to stand up, but the redhead reached out and grabbed the sleeve of her robe.

"'Mione, wait," he said, giving her sleeve a tug and forcing her to sit back down. "I need to talk to you."

"I need to go, Ron," Hermione said tersely.

"You don't have any classes, and I've got a free period before Potions," Ron said. "You didn't sit next to me, 'Mione. Why? What did I do to make you angry at me?"

"I'm not angry at you," Hermione said, reaching to gather her book bag. "I'm just waiting for you to get over this futile infatuation with me. I'm not interested in you-"

"You haven't given me the chance you promised," Ron interrupted, his tone accusatory.

"The whole point of giving you a chance would be to determine if there's a chance for things to work out between us romantically," Hermione said testily. "I can already see that they wouldn't."

"That's not a fair assessment, 'Mione," Ron said, his ears reddening as they always did when he was angry or embarassed. In this case, it was probably the former.

"Well, it's my choice to make, and, if you're actually my friend, you will irespect/i it," Hermione said, yanking her sleeve out of his grip. She got up and left, striding towards the doors. Ron got up and followed her.

"You don't know whether things could work out romantically between us or not," Ron said, failing to keep the anger out of his voice, "because you haven't even given it a chance."

They'd reached the Entrance Hall. Hermione whipped around to face Ron.

"You seem to be under the impression that I harbor some sort of romantic feelings for you," Hermione said, her tone biting. "You are mistaken. I did, at one time, but instead of asking me out like anyone else would, you started flaunting Lavender in my face to make me jealous."

Ron's ears reddened even further. "That was a mistake," he admitted, "I know I should have just asked you, but why won't you give me a second chance?"

"This would be more like a third chance for you, if you count the fiasco that was the Yule Ball," Hermione told him icily. "First you acted as though no one could possibly want to go with me- the bushy-haired, buck-toothed swot- and then when you found out who my date was, you acted as though I'd somehow commited the ultimate act of betrayal! You ruined my entire night with your pigheadedness, and, afterwards, I specifically told you that next time you should go ahead and ask me iinstead of coming to me as a last resort!/i"

Ron took a step backward, holding his arms up defensively. "That was three years ago, 'Mione-"

"And you don't seem to have matured at all since then!"

"I'm not coming to you as a last resort," Ron said, taking a step toward her. Hermione took a step back, but he reached out and grabbed her book bag, yanking it away.

"Give that back," Hermione hissed, pulling out her wand. Ron had his wand out in front of him, holding it up defensively.

"Not until you promise to give me the chance I asked for," he said, dangling the book bag out of her reach.

Hermione stared at him, enraged. Her bushy hair had become even frizzier in her anger, and her face was turning red with irritation and humiliation at having been caught off guard.

"That's blackmail, Ron!"

"No, it's not," Ron said, in what was supposed to be a placating voice. "I'm just convincing you to uphold the promise you made to me two days ago."

Hermione jabbed her wand in his direction, intending to disarm him, but Ron- no longer being the awkward, gangly wizard whose skills were mediocre at best- was prepared for this and cast a shielding charm.

"Just hear me out, 'Mione-"

"iGive me back my bag!/i"

"I will if you promise me a date," Ron said, "next Hogsmead weekend. That's all I ask."

"I'll deduct points from you if you don't give it back," Hermione said angrily.

"You can't dock points from Prefects," Ron said smugly, "not even if you're the Head Girl."

Hermione ground down on her molars, before remembering what her parents had said about how bad it was for her teeth. Relaxing her jaw, she took deep, calming breaths to regain her self-control before replying to Ron.

"I will give you your date, if you give me my book bag and promise that if, afterwards, I decide I still don't wish to date you, you will respect that," Hermione said coldly.

Ron smiled. "I knew you would come around," he said, giving her back the book bag. "You won't regret it, I promise."

Hermione very much doubted it, but did not voice her opinion. Instead, she yanked her book bag out of Ron's proffered hands and stormed off toward the Library.

She entered the Library in a terrible rage, and the fourth years who were reviewing for the Transfiguration test they had coming up hastily got out of her way. They could almost see the black thundercloud hanging over the Head Girl, and though Madam Pince looked scandalized at Hermione's disrespectful appearance, even she looked a bit too taken aback to try to do anything about it.

Setting herself up in her usual corner at the far end, Hermione went back to revising, but her mind was elsewhere. The kind of behavior she had just seen in Ron was something she would have expected from a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor, and it infuriated her that he had gotten the upperhand against her. She had always been the stronger and more skilled of the two; to be caught off-guard by him after they'd just come out of a grueling war, where alertness and preparedness ensured survival, was galling, to say the least.

The more she thought about it, the more her rage consumed her, until she was sitting stiffly, hunched over her book, brow furrowed so deep that her face seemed to be hidden in the shadow of her frown; she was glaring at the book with an expression reminiscent of Medusa.

Harry appeared much later, after classes had ended, to inform her that it was dinner time. Hermione shut her book with a snap, stuffed it in her bag, and silently followed Harry down to the Great Hall.

Just as they were about to reach the second floor, Harry stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "What happened between you and Ron earlier?"

Hermione finally exploded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5

October Ash

Hermione finally exploded.

"The prat decided that I obviously don't know my own mind and has forced me to attend a date with him next Hogsmead weekend," Hermione said, spitting out the words viciously. "He grabbed my book bag and refused to return it until I promised to go with him."

"I'm surprised you didn't hex him," Harry said, his eyes widening in surprise. This didn't sound like something Hermione would let Ron get away with. Copying her History of Magic essays, sure. Coercing her into going on a date? Unlikely.

"I would have, if he hadn't anticipated my move and thrown up a shielding charm," Hermione said bitterly. The humiliation still rankled. "I threatened to take points off of him, but he laughed and said that I couldn't dock points from Prefects, even as Head Girl."

"And so he wouldn't give back your books until you agreed to go with him?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow. He looked and acted calm and collected, but inside, he was furious. He couldn't believe Ron had had the nerve to attempt such a thing, much less succeed. He knew Ron was determined to win Hermione over, and Harry had resolved to let them work things out themselves, but that resolve crumbled at discovering what Ron's latest attempt had involved.

Hermione nodded miserably. Her humiliation returned seven-fold with the admittance of her failure to take Ron to task herself for the blackmail. Her face burned with shame, and she wrapped her arms around herself, staring down at the floor, radiating bitterness.

"I'll speak to him myself," Harry said quietly. "I can't believe he had the nerve to do that, and I don't blame you for being caught off guard- he's your friend, right?" He glared at the space behind Hermione, eyes unfocused, remembering where his father's misplaced trust in Pettigrew had gotten him. "You don't expect friends to turn on you."

Hermione looked up at him in surprise. She hadn't realized that Harry would be on her side- most of the time, if an argument ever broke out between herself and Ron, Harry either remained neutral or took Ron's side.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said gratefully, rubbing her cheek in an attempt to ease away the pain that had accumulated from clenching her jaw for so long. She'd spent her entire time studying, stiff and angry, and now that she'd finally relaxed, she was registering the soreness. "I'd appreciate that very much."

"You're a grown woman, Hermione," Harry said firmly, and Hermione looked up to see a face she almost didn't recognize anymore. She'd been right in her earlier assessment that the war had changed Harry in a way that it had not done for Ron: he had matured, and his green eyes carried the same odd, serious light in it that one often found in Dumbledore's blue eyes. "Your choices are yours to make. Ron and I don't have any say in how you live your life anymore, other than to give advice and encouragement- and to be fair, it's usually you who's giving us the suggestions regarding life choices and consequences rather than the other way around."

Hermione nodded in appreciation of his words.

"And to be honest, I'm not surprised that you don't want to date Ron now, especially not after pulling this stunt," Harry continued, placing his hands comfortingly on Hermione's shoulders. "I rather think it shows a lack of the consideration and respect you're due. I will speak with him. I will knock him over the head and levitate him by the ankle if that's what it takes to make him see sense. And I'll help you set him up with Lavender in the Room of Requirement, to get him to leave you alone."

Hermione looked at Harry in stupefied shock. "How'd you-"

"Legillimency," Harry said, cracking a smile. "Dumbledore taught me how to do it last year."

"You shouldn't be invading other people's minds like that," Hermione chastised.

"Oh, I don't go down very deeply," Harry said. "I just glean the surface thoughts of the people around me. I've found it helps in knowing when someone nearby isn't to be trusted. It's become a habit now," he admitted. "But I don't consider it a true invasion of privacy. Now if I were to try and figure out all your embarassing secrets…"

"Don't, Harry," Hermione said, laughing. "I understand."

"Well, the subject of setting Ron up with Lavender was at the forefront of your mind at the moment," Harry said, "And I, for one, happen to be in full agreement."

Hermione took a moment to gather her common sense before applying it to the problem at hand. "Ron may not be the sharpest quill in the box, but he's not stupid," Hermione admitted. "If I act like I can't stand being around him and then suddenly want to meet him, he might be to suspicious to go through with it and be in the Room of Requirement when we need him to be." She sighed and brought a hand to rub her aching forehead. "I suppose I'll have to go on that date with him, if we want this to work."

Harry pursed his lips. "Are you sure? I can knock some sense into him, if you prefer."

"No, Harry," Hermione said wearily. "If this is going to work, I'll just have to endure a week of his company up until after the date. I'll live."

"This isn't fair to you," Harry muttered. "You shouldn't have to do this- and for the sake of shaking off one of your best friends, to boot!"

"I don't think I can truthfully call Ron a 'best friend' at the moment," Hermione said. "Not after what he did."

"In my humble opinion," Harry said, "I believe that fame has gone to his head, and he thinks you're just playing hard to get. That's why he was so…" He struggled to find the right word, "Uncouth."

"That's the gentle way of putting it," Hermione said stifly. She sighed. "Fortunately, this will all be over soon. Either he gets together with Lavender and leaves me alone, or I will hex him into impotence."

Harry took a step back warily.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry, I wouldn't use it on you," Hermione said, giggling. "Ginny would kill me otherwise."

Harry gave her a relieved grin, proffered her his arm, and escorted her to the Great Hall in a gentlemanly fashion.

Hermione took a seat between Harry and Ginny, and sat directly across from Neville. She ate her food rather quickly, but still took the time to carry on a discussion with Ginny regarding her apprenticeship before excusing herself quickly to return to the haven of the Library.

None of the Gryffindors noticed a pair of cold, black eyes watching the proceedings with disgruntled interest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6

October Sun

"Ron, fancy a game of Quidditch?" Harry asked, setting down his Potions essay. Ron looked up eagerly.

"Sure, Harry," he said, setting his own Potions essay aside. "I could use a well-deserved break. Just let me get my broom."

"Wait," Harry said, putting up a hand to stop him. "I need to talk to you first."

"About what?"

"Hermione."

Ron looked at Harry stupidly.

"What about her?"

"She told me what you did to get her to agree to your little 'date' for next Hogsmead weekend," Harry said, endeavoring to keep his voice carefully neutral. It would not do to get angry or accusatory right off. Doing so would just bring out Ron's temper, and the conversation would deteriorate into a useless shouting match. "I was just wondering if you'd thought about why she's been avoiding you for the past two days, and why you had to resort to holding her book bags hostage to get her to agree."

Ron looked at Harry consideringly. "She's just playing hard to get," he said. "She's trying to make me work for it. Girls think that if the guy goes through a lot of trouble to get together with them, they're serious about it, which is pretty stupid if you ask me," he declared.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Ron, has Hermione ever been like most girls?"

Ron took a moment to think on this. "No," he finally admitted.

"You're looking at this from the perspective of a guy trying to get a date with a normal girl," Harry pointed out. "Hermione's not like that. She's not so shallow or insecure to need someone to go through such lengths just to get a date with her. She doesn't think that highly of herself."

Ron's face turned red. "I know that, Harry."

"I think you're sending Hermione the wrong signals," Harry said carefully. He was treading around Ron cautiously, but what he really wanted to do was strangle him. Ron was his best friend, but he was also a world-class prat. "By going to these lengths and being this persistent, you're sending her the message that she's just another conquest to be won over, that you don't really respect her for her, just for what she represents. Now you've driven her away, and if you don't stop, you're going to ruin your friendship too."

"But I don't think she's just another conquest!" Ron said indignantly.

"I know that," Harry said placatingly. "But it's Hermione you have to convince, and you've ruined your chances of that now. I'm telling you that I think you should stop now, before you really drive a wedge between yourselves." Getting desperate, and seeing that Ron wasn't entirely convinced, he added, "Hermione told me herself yesterday that she no longer thinks of you as a best friend. You abused her trust with that stunt you pulled, and I can't see her wanting to date you now. You went about this the wrong way, pushed her too hard, and now you have the consequences."

Ron's face became crestfallen. "I just wanted her to give me a chance, Harry."

"Well, you went about it the wrong way," Harry snapped, his temper finally bleeding through his mask of calm and collectedness. "You should have taken my advice and left her alone until Christmas, at the very least, before trying to actively pursue her, but instead you went ahead and pushed! You pushed her so hard that you've driven her away from you. You've fallen from her good graces, and to be honest, you've fallen in mine too. I never would have expected you to be such an arsehole!"

"But she wouldn't give me a chance-"

"That didn't mean it was the end of the world!" Harry said angrily. "It meant you needed to give her some space!" He shook his head disgustedly. "Have you ever heard of the phrase 'good things come to those who wait'?"

Ron went silent.

"Think over what an ass you've been to Hermione the past few days," Harry said, standing up, "and think if there's any hope of mending your friendship. Now," he said, rubbing his hands together, and changing the subject to a more pleasant topic. "Quidditch?"

~o~O~o~

The rest of the week was much easier for Hermione. She assumed Harry must have had some words with Ron, because Ron was sitting contritely in his seat during mealtimes, only casting her short glances. He didn't follow her around, he didn't bug her, and for the most part he pretty much left her alone, keeping a respectful distance. He still casted her longing glances, and Hermione could practically feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of her head, but he was otherwise silent. Hermione was relieved to not have to deal with his unwanted advances, and, as a result, was able to pour all her focus into her studies.

The weekend came all too quickly, and Saturday morning found Hermione reluctantly setting her studies aside to accompany Ron to Hogsmead. Fortunately, Ginny, being the true friend that she was, tagged along at Hermione's invitation; since Harry was accompanying Ginny, it felt more like a friendly outing than a date.

Ron dragged her to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which had opened up a Hogsmead branch and was still doing good business. Hermione rather thought that this was a poor idea of what a date should be on Ron's part, but since going there made it feel less like a romantic get-together, she gladly went. They spent an hour browsing the merchandise before Ron decided that Hermione had spent quite enough time giggling over the Pygmy Puffs with his sister, and set off to drag her to Madam Puddifoot's in an attempt to ditch Harry and Ginny. As they reached the door, Hermione spotted Susan Bones examining the display of love potions with Lavender Brown. Spotting her chance Hermione called out, "Oi, Susan!"

Susan turned around, bewildered for a moment until she saw Hermione and waved. "Hey, Hermione," she greeted. "How are you?"

"I didn't know you were back in school!" Hermione said, running to hug her. "After your parents withdrew you, I wondered if you'd survived the war. I didn't see you at the beginning of term."

Susan returned the hug enthusiastically. "My mum wanted to wait until all the Death Eaters had been convicted and sent to Azkaban before we came out of hiding. She was worried that some might slip through or work out a deal with the Ministry. I almost didn't get to come back because of Snape," she added somewhat bitterly. "I heard all about what he did- he was a spy for the Order, right? But Mum doesn't trust him- she's a bit wary now. I think the war took a heavy toll on her since Dad disappeared. But I convinced her to let me come back, especially since Dumbledore's there. She trusts Dumbledore," Susan added ruefully.

"What happened to your dad?" Hermione asked, fearing the answer.

"He's dead. He disappeared two months after my aunt," Susan said sadly.

"Oh, Susan, I'm so sorry," Hermione said, giving the girl's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "If there's anything I can do…"

"Where did you go to hide?" Ron interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him. Hermione wanted to smack him for his lack of tact, but figured that, in and of itself, would be tactless. She'd talk to him about it later.

"We went to New Zealand, posing as muggle vacationers," Susan said. "We learned to wear lots of makeup in place of glamours, in case the magic was traceable."

"Smart," Ron said with an approving nod. Hermione watched Lavender's reaction to this; the girl was scowling, but otherwise acted indifferent. She saw Hermione watching her, quickly averted her gaze, and went back to reading the labels on the potions. Almost as an afterthought, Ron added awkwardly, "I'm sorry to hear about your dad."

Susan nodded. It seemed she couldn't quite speak, and Hermione would not be surprised if it was because her throat was constricted with tears. She squeezed the girl's shoulder again, and then turned to Ron. "Why don't we all go to The Three Broomsticks?" she suggested. Without waiting for a response, she turned around and called for Harry and Ginny, who had apparently not realized that Ron had tried to slip off without them, and reappeared sheepishly.

Hermione would have invited Lavender along, but she had changed her mind about setting Ron up with her. She was pretty angry with Ron right now, but on second thought, she wasn't vengeful enough to set him up with the shallow, spiteful girl. Lavender was a good friend at times, but she was easily turned sour by the pettiest of percieved infractions. If Hermione played her cards right, and if her intuition was also correct, Susan and Ron could easily be manipulated into focusing their attention on eachother. Hermione had no doubts that Ron would make a generous boyfriend to someone who was truly interested in him, and he had more in common with Susan than herself. Things would go much more smoothly this way.

The five of them headed to The Three Broomsticks, where they got a table and ordered their drinks. Hermione took a seat next to Harry and Ginny, forcing Ron to sit between Harry and Susan, and they talked while waiting for their drinks.

Susan, it turned out, had returned to school last week, but it had been done quietly;there had been no announcement, she explained, and the Hufflepuffs had all promised not to draw attention to her arrival. She wanted to reintegrate back into Hogwarts quietly and without much fuss, and the teachers and Hufflepuff students had all agreed to this. Ron eagerly promised to do the same, and Hermione smiled at the two when the topic turned to the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match scheduled for next Saturday.

Their drinks arrived, and Hermione divided her time between talking to Ginny about plans for the Christmas hols and nursing her butterbeer. Harry was eagerly joining in on the conversation about Quidditch between Ron and Susan, subtly encouraging their conversation to continue in a favorable manner, leaving Hermione and Ginny to their own devices.

"Are you coming to the Burrow for Christmas?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not sure I would be welcome," Hermione said, thinking of Mrs. Weasley's reaction to her spurning of Ron.

"Don't be stupid," Ginny said, taking a sip of firewhiskey. "Mum will be slightly disappointed, but she already sees you as a daughter of sorts. She'll get over it. You have to come. It'll be our first Christmas as a family since Voldemort's defeat, and you're a part of the family one way or another. Harry's coming too," she added.

Hermione took a moment to take a sip of her drink. "I haven't restored my parents' memories yet," she said slowly. "I found them, but I've been having difficulty undoing the memory charm. I'm considering asking Harry to come with me to help- I think I may need a Legilimens to figure out what's going on in their minds. I'm not sure how my particular memory charm affected them."

"Did you use a modified memory charm?" Ginny queried.

"I changed it a bit to make it harder for someone to identify them through Legilimency," Hermione explained. "Most memory charms leave unexplained gaps in the victim's memories, and some things are modified in a way that does not fit naturally in the chronic order of someone's life. I adapted it to make it more specific." At Ginny's raised eyebrow, Hermione added, "I made it possible for me to modify their memories with surgical precision. I could go more in-depth and in more detail, make it more realistic, and harder to find the gaps and unexplained blanks."

"Surgi-what?"

"It's a Muggle thing," Hermione explained, "It basically means doing things really detailed, very precisely. I left almost no trace that their minds had been tampered with."

"Clever," Ginny said, staring at Hermione in awe.

"But the problem is that whie most memory charms act as a mask or proxy on the victim's mind, covering up the original memories, this memory charm actually modifies the original memories," Hermione said sadly. "So now I need to figure out a counter-charm."

"This is probably a stupid question, but did you try a simple Finite Incantatem?" Ginny suggested.

"I did try it," Hermione said miserably. "It undid the first part of the memory charm, returning the majority of their memories, but now they're living with overlapping memories. It's difficult for them to percieve what is real and what is not. There's nothing life threatening about their condition, but it's not something they can live with."

"Perhaps you could ask Professor Dumbledore to help?" Ginny suggested. "He's a better Legilimens than Harry; he'd be able to figure out where the problem is."

"You're right, Ginny," Hermione said gratefully. She set her half-drunk butterbeer aside. "I'll owl him when we get back to the castle."

The unusually warm October evening found them walking back to the castle much later with Ron and Susan holding hands, smiling as though the sun had just come out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 7

October Sky

Hermione knocked on the door to the Headmaster's office. After being bid to enter, she did so, and stopped in surprise when she saw that Snape was also there, sitting in one of the armchairs. The moment she entered, he scowled at her, but said nothing. Hermione cautiously took a few steps into the room, and took a seat in the other armchair.

"Thank you for being punctual, as always," the headmaster said genially. "I received your owl about your parents. I agree with your assessment that they need a skilled Legilimens to help sort out the modified memory charm you used, but unfortunately, I am too busy to accompany you myself."

Hermione nodded at this. She had expected that, considering that Dumbledore was a very busy man, helping her parents could possibly be very time consuming depending on how things went. But she wondered why he had asked her to come to his office merely to inform her that he could not help her, and nothing said so far explained why Snape was here.

"I have spoken to Professor Snape, and he has agreed to accompany you in my place," Dumbledore continued, smiling. "He is a skilled enough Legilimens to assist you."

Hermione turned around in surprise to face Snape. He scowled at her, but inclined his head in acknowledgement of Dumbledore's words.

"I was thinking that perhaps Christmas would be an appropriate time to make the attempt," Dumbledore continued. "Afterwards, Professor Snape would drop you off at the Burrow."

"That sounds excellent to me, Sir," Hermione said.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said, waving his wand hand in dismissal. His blackened hand had been expertly restored by Healers at St. Mungo's, after nearly six months of research and failed cures. "Off you go."

Both Hermione and Snape stood up simultaneously and headed for the door. The moment it closed behind them, Snape turned to Hermione and glowered down at her.

"The circumstances under which I am to help you have been explained to me by our illustrious headmaster," he sneered. "However, I would like to hear it from your own tongue as to why you felt the need to use a modified and previously untested memory charm."

"Ordinary memory charms are merely placed over already existing memories, like a mask, and there are often gaps, noticeable flaws-" Hermione stumbled. "I needed to be sure that if a Death Eater saw them and used Legilimency, they wouldn't realize they were my parents."

"If I am to understand correctly, you sent them packing off to Australia," Snape said quietly, as he did when he was particularly incensed. "How many Death Eaters were you expecting to wander into Australia by chance, or go there searching specifically for your parents— much less one that could use Legilimency?"

Hermione bit her lower lip, trying to hold back tears. "One, Sir," she whispered.

Snape stared at her.

"The Dark Lord?" he was looking at her as though she had sprouted a tail again. "You were expecting the Dark Lord to go searching for your parents? I always thought it was Potter with the swelled head, but I seem to have been mistaken."

"Not V-voldemort, no," Hermione said, and Snape's left arm twitched, as thought it had suddenly been poked with a hot iron. "I rather think he would have better things to do with his time than personally hunt down the Muggle parents of Harry Potter's best friend."

Dawning comprehension appeared on Snape's face.

"You were thinking of me." It wasn't a question.

Hermione nodded, wrapping her arms protectively around herself. She stared down at the floor.

"We all thought you were a traitor," she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Harry, Ron, and I were preparing to go Horcrux hunting. You knew us well enough to know how to attack me where it hurt the most. I thought that if I didn't remove my parents, you or some other Death Eater would be sent to kill them. But when I Apparated them to Australia, it occurred to me that since you knew what I looked like, you might also use Legilimency if you came across them, on the off-chance that they were the parents of the hated Muggle-born best friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived. You have good instincts, and if you delved into their minds, it would have been obvious that their memories were tampered with."

"So you adapted the spell to make the alterations less noticeable?"

"Yes."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Allow me to confirm my understanding of what you've told me thus far, Miss Granger. I'm accompanying you to assist in reversing the effects of the modified memory charm you placed on your parents, which was modified in the first place because of the slight possibility that I might perform Legilimency on them and recognize the effects of a normal memory charm?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

To her surprise, instead of insulting her method or intelligence, or perhaps yelling at her- or even taking points off, for that matter— Snape's shoulders merely slumped forward and he stared down at her with a resigned expression on his face.

"I suppose I should have expected nothing less of the insufferable know-it-all," he said finally. "This seems to be a rather twisted play of poetic justice."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Hermione said, returning her gaze to the floor.

"Don't appologize," Snape snapped, "unless it's to get down on your knees in penance for modifying a spell and using it without first coming up with a counter-spell."

"I didn't have time!" Hermione protested. "Everything was moving so fast— and then there was Bill and Fleur's wedding…"

"Then you should have bloody well sent them to America!"

"The Immigration Laws there would have caught them out— it would have been impossible for them to find a job—"

"Are you a witch or not?" Snape demanded. "Could you not have simply forged the documents with a simple wave of your wand?"

Hermione stared at him, her mouth half-way open to protest, but then it clicked shut.

"That's what Ron said to me in first year," she said, giggling inanely. Her emotions were running high, along with her stress, and the realization that Snape was right hit her hard enough to send her reeling. So instead of collapsing onto the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, her mask of maturity simply crumbled away.

"Merlin forbid I ever be compared to that moronic pustule you call a friend," Snape sneered.

"We were being strangled by the Devil's Snare guarding the Stone," Hermione said, still giggling. Then her gaze grew distant. "And I remembered that it didn't like warmth or light, so Ron yelled at me to light a fire. I panicked and said 'But there's no wood!' to which he yelled back at me— while still dealing with the strangling vine— 'are you a witch or not?'"

"Is this an admission to your occasional bouts of stupidity?" Snape sounded more amused than anything else.

"It wasn't stupidity, it was just a panicked reaction to a stressful situation," Hermione countered.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I'll simply have to take your word for it, then," he said cooly. Turning on his heels, he swept down the corridor. "Meet me at the Entrance Hall after dinner the night before everyone leaves for the Christmas holidays," he ordered. "Don't be late."

~o~O~o~

Hermione could be found studying in the Library nearly two hours past curfew. She was so absorbed in her Arithmancy text that she didn't hear Ron come up until he tapped her on the shoulder. She let out a startled shriek and fell off her chair, hitting the floor- hard. She looked up to see Ron standing over her, looking torn between concern and amusement.

"What on earth are you doing here, Ron?" Hermione demanded, sitting up painfully. Ron reached under her arms and helped lift her to her feet, and she brushed herself off. "It's past curfew."

"Yes, and against all expectations, I happen to be a Prefect," Ron said with a grin. "I'm allowed out two hours after curfew. For patrol purposes only, of course," he added mischievously.

Hermione sighed. "What do you want, Ronald?"

Ron pulled up a chair from the nearest table and leaned back in it. "Well, for starters, I think I should probably be at your feet, groveling and begging for forgiveness," he admitted. "Harry made me see that I'd been a right prat to you— and a selfish one too— and I'm here to ask for forgiveness."

The next moment, Ron was being levitated into the air by his ankle. "Wha—?" he spluttered, but was quickly silenced with another wave of Hermione's wand.

Hermione pressed the tip of her wand to Ron's nose.

"Well, it's about bloody time," she said cooly. Ron's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. "I don't know if I should forgive you, but I'm going to, just this once. However," she warned, "if you ever do that again— either to me or anyone else— I will personally hex your bollocks off and feed them to Blast-Ended Skrewts. Am I understood?"

Ron nodded frantically, and Hermione removed the Silencing Charm.

"Very clear, Hermione," Ron croaked. Satisfied, Hermione flicked her wand and Ron came crashing down to the floor. He sat up and groaned, rubbing his back.

"I s'pose I probably deserved that," he admitted ruefully.

"At least you realize that," Hermione said with a bit of a self-satisfied smile. Stashing her wand into the pocket of her nightgown, she turned around to rearrange her books and the lantern before adding, "Is there anything else I can do for you or can I get back to studying?"

"Well, yes, actually," Ron admitted. "I know I screwed up with you— I didn't take the chance when I had it, and I treated you like a Plan B more than anything else. I came to ask if you could give me some dating advice for… for Susan."

The last part of his sentence was accompanied with a look of embarassment mixed with guilt.

"I'm happy for you," Hermione said encouragingly. This was her chance to influence Ron's luck in wooing the Hufflepuff. She could give him advice that would help him make better choices concerning the new girl he was now infatuated with. "She's lucky to have you. All I can say is to be considerate. She's a smart girl, Ron— she's not some shallow chit like Lavender. She's not petty. She likely won't be swayed by pretty gifts anymore than I was," she added. "I would say to be yourself, but since you're a tactless prat half the time, I'm not going to go there." Ron chuckled self-deprecatingly at this. "Acts of generosity, love, and sincerity will get you farther than a bar of Honeydukes chocolate."

Ron nodded in understanding. "That was a mistake right off," he admitted. "It probably felt like I was trying to buy my way in with cheap gifts."

"Er— yes— well—" Hermione wasn't used to seeing this side of Ron. It was a bit like looking at a younger, slightly more impulsive and pigheaded Arthur Weasley. It occurred to her that perhaps her consistent rejection of him, Harry's man-to-man discussion, and Ron's subsequent and newfound interest in the bright Hufflepuff girl had matured him in ways the war hadn't. If he continued along this vein of self-reflection and improvement, it could only be a good thing, Hermione mused. "Just be kind. You're a loyal friend, which is something I'm sure that Susan, as a Hufflepuff, can appreciate. Listen to what she has to say, and don't say anything too stupid."

"Seems like sound advice to me," Ron said. "Thank you, 'Mione."

Hermione smiled. It was the first genuine smile she'd directed at Ron in nearly a week. "You're welcome, Ron."

Ron nodded and stood up. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, staring down at the floor. His ears had turned red with embarassment. "Yes— well— I'd better get back to Gryffindor Tower. I have homework to finish for tomorrow."

Hermione looked at Ron in disbelief. "Ron? Are you alright?"

Ron scowled at her. "I'm fine. It's just that Susan invited me to work with her in the Library tomorrow during free period. I'm not ill, and I know I'm still a bit of a brat, but as you've been drilling into us for the past few months, OWLs and NEWTs really do matter, and if I want to be an Auror…" he looked wistful. "Well, I'd better work hard, hadn't I?" he finished sheepishly.

Hermione was, for once in her life, speechless. Words could not express her true thoughts and feelings. Instead, she flung herself at Ron, enveloping him in a bear hug. But Ron clearly understood what she was trying to convey, and returned the hug before taking a step back and excusing himself to get back to Gryffindor Tower "before Snape or Filch come along and deduct points, the miserable gits."

Hermione watched him retreat into the shadows of the bookcases, pride swelling in her chest.

Never, in seven years of friendship, had she ever been so proud of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8

Halloween

Things returned to a state of relative normalcy by Monday, which also happened to be Halloween.

Hermione secluded herself in the Library, only coming out at mealtimes. Harry spent his free time sitting near her, working on homework. He seemed a bit nervous and edgy, but also a bit sad. Hermione wasn't surprised. Tonight was both the light and dark side of the coin that was Harry's life. On one hand, he had stopped Voldemort eighteen years ago and freed the Wizarding world of his influence for nearly fourteen years, until his subsequent revival. On the other hand, tonight was also the night his parents had been killed.

Halloween had never been a big deal to Harry while Voldemort was around, corporeal or otherwise, because he had come to expect strange things to happen. The troll and the opening of the Chamber of Secrets had merely been warning signs, but now that Voldemort was gone it was difficult for Harry to rid himself of the anxiety he still felt concerning Halloween. He was being quiet as he worked, though his edginess was still palpable, and Hermione didn't have much conviction to send him away until it was time for his next class.

Somehow, however, he was in much better shape by dinner (Hermione suspected Ginny had something to do with it), when everyone was heading down to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast.

The Great Hall, predictably, looked splendid. The customary giant jack-o-lanterns shone brightly from where they stood off to the side, and the torches that lit up the walls were decorated with real, live bats. Orange and black crepè decorated the walls, and the dishes that held all manner of sweet and creepy food were shaped like lobotomized pumpkins. Hogwarts had started a new tradition, in light of the recent war, that allowed students from other tables to sit together on holiday feasts, and tonight was no exception. Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, at the end closest to the High Table, clustered with Ron, Harry, Ginny, Susan, Neville, Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, and Ernie Macmillian from Hufflepuff.

The food was excellent. There were bat-shaped cookies with purple sprinkles that shrieked when you bit into them, and ghost pudding, which bubbled and frothed menacingly; occasionally, grotesque figures would rise up and scream at you before sinking back into the bowl. The candycorn was charmed to dance and rattle in their bowl, and when you stuck your fork into a slice of pumpkin pie, it momentarily transfigured itself into a real pumpkin before reverting back to a slice of harmless pie. Hermione suspected Dumbledore had gotten some help from the Weasley twins in organizing the food- this looked like their brand of work. All the same, she dug in heartily.

When a platter of candy apples appeared, Ron reached over for one and took a bite out of it; his face momentarily transfigured into that of a pumpkin head. The whole tabled laughed uproariously for a minute, until his head returned to normal. He chucked along with them and then finished his sweet.

"I've never been to such an exciting Halloween Feast," Ernie remarked, helping himself to the rattling candy corn. "The Headmaster has really outdone himself this time."

"I must agree," Terry said, taking a slice of pumpkin pie for himself. "The food is good, as usual, but it's got- what do the Muggles call it? A little more 'kick' this year."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Fred and George had something to do with it," Harry said knowingly.

"I remember the dancing skeleton troupe in my first year," Ginny said. "That was pretty cool."

"I don't remember that," Ron said, brows furrowed.

"That's because we were in the dungeons attending Nearly-Headless Nick's five-hundredth deadthday party," Hermione reminded him.

"Oh," Ron said. "Right."

Neville poked a sugar skeleton that was currently chasing around a sugar mummy in their bowl with his wand. It promptly grabbed onto the end of it and began crawling along the length of the stick toward the startled Gryffindor. Ginny calmly reached over and plucked it off Neville's wand and stuck it in her mouth.

"Not bad," she said through a mouthful of wriggling candy.

"Do you hear that?" Harry asked suddenly, looking towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

They all stopped talking for a moment to listen too.

"I heard something," Ginny said, frowning.

A loud thump reverberated through the hall. Most of the students stopped what they were doing to look up in confusion.

"What is that?" Hermione asked.

The first thump was followed by a multitude of rhythmic ones.

"I'd say it's another troll," Ron said, "except that trolls don't walk with such bouncy steps."

"Yeah, they kind of slouch," Harry agreed.

"How would you know?" Ginny demanded.

"First year," Ron told her, standing up and pulling out his wand. The teachers at the high table had done the same, and looked to be trying to figure out what the noise was, as well. Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Hermione followed suit. After a moment of hesitation, Terry and Ernie did as well.

"And the first time I ever lied to a teacher to save someone else's skin," Hermione added, as the Great Hall fell silent to the rhythimic thumping. The other prefects followed by Draco, who was Head Boy, also stood up, wands aloft. The other students shrank back.

The Heads of House and Dumbledore strode towards the entrance to the hall, flanked by the prefects and Head Boy and Girl. The other students remained seated, watching the door warily; the doors opened.

A giant pumpkin-headed dragon shot through the door, a colorful firework of orange and black, showering the students with exploding sparks. Everyone jumped back in surprise, and a troop of pumpkins marched in after the sparkler in rows of four. Students at the Hufflepuff table dove under their seats to avoid the hissing and spitting dragon as it headed straight for them. The pumpkins began dividing themselves and began marching diligently in the directions of each of the four tables.

The pumpkins had arms and legs made of carving scraps, and they jumped onto the tables and began making off with the food. A couple of them were tap-dancing. A troup of gourds were advancing on some of the students with small red and black sparklers in their vine-like appendages.

Hermione knew that whoever was behind this was likely not in the room. Ducking out of the Great Hall, leaving the teachers and prefects to deal with the mess, she dashed up the flight of stairs and stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Pointing her wand in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, she silently summoned the Marauder's Map. The Fat Lady swung open to let it pass through the door into Hermione's hands, and Hermione unfolded it.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Hermione muttered, and the blank parchment transformed into an extensive map. Scanning it, she immediately knew who- and where- the culprits were. Wiping the map blank again and stuffing it in the pocket of her robes, she strode off toward the Astronomy Tower.

She rounded the corner and came to the staircase leading to the tower, when she sensed movement behind her and whipped around to see who was following her.

Snape glared at her, putting a finger to his lips as a tacit order for her to be silent. He then motioned imperiously for her to follow, and they both ascended the stairs. Hermione had not realized that Snape— smart as he was— had probably come to the same conclusion that she had in considering who the culprits were, and had followed her here. They reached the top of the stairs, wands drawn, and were confronted with the backs of Colin and Dennis Creevy.

The two Gryffindors were apparently controlling the marching pumpkin army into the castle from atop the Astronomy Tower, laughing excitedly at their success. An empty box of Weasley's Halloween-Edition Wildfire Whiz-Bangs sat off to the side; Hermione suspected that they would find more than one sparkler roaming around the castle before the night was over.

Hermione and Snape silently strode up to their victims, who were unaware of their presence until the elder Creevy felt the tip of Snape's wand poking into the back of his neck.

Hermione had her wand directed at Dennis.

The two Gryffindors slowly turned around, and elation turned to fear when they realized who had caught them.

Snape's smile was nastily triumphant.

In a sudden surprise move, Dennis leaped up and pushed past Hermione, reaching for the box of fireworks. He snapped his wand in the direction of the Wild-Fire Whizbangs and shouted, "Incendio!"

Hermione, who was closest to the box, was thrown backwards as it exploded. The two Creevy's rushed toward the stairs and disappeared like mice.

Hermione was knocked into Snape, and the two hit the rails with painfully hard cracks. Hermione groaned and tried to sit up, but doing so sent a shock of pain through her neck and she slumped back to the floor. Snape was in much better shape— he'd had the presence of mind to cast a shielding charm, but it had done nothing to protect the Head Girl. He stood up and hesitated between assisting Hermione and going after the two trouble-makers.

"Episkey," he said, and Hermione felt her neck go very hot, and then the sensation cooled. She sat up, rubbing her neck.

"I am going to murder those two," she ground out, testing the pain level remaining in her shoulders, "and deduct so many points from Gryffindor that their grandchildren will still be trying to make up for it."

The corner of Snape's mouth turned up slightly at this, but his face otherwise expressed nothing; he merely reached over to grab her arm, lifting her to her feet. "I second the notion."

"Good," Hermione snapped, her good mood from the Halloween Feast destroyed. She rubbed a few burns on her arms, which had appeared as a result of the explosion. Just beyond the tower, she could see pumpkin-headed fireworks and red catherine wheels with skull patterns on their sides flying through the air. She reached into her robes' pocket for the Marauder's Map, not caring if Snape saw, and opened it. The two Creevys were currently making their way to the Room of Requirement.

"This is Potter's map, I take it?" Snape sneered, looming over her shoulder. He took the map from her hands, ignoring Hermione's squeak of protest, and examined it for himself.

He looked down his nose at the small footprints of Colin and Dennis making their way to the Seventh Floor. "There is a shortcut we can take, if this map is to be believed." He pocketed the map and strode toward the staircase. "We may still catch them. Come!" he ordered, and Hermione immediately lurched forward to follow him.

They caught up with the two brothers, beating them to the Seventh Floor corridor; the two unfortunate Gryffindors found them standing in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement, arms crossed, and sharing identical murderous glares. And so it was that on October 31st of the year 1998, that Gryffindor successfully lost any and all points they'd accumulated in that year, and the Creevys earned themselves a month of detentions with Filch.

For Snape, it was as though Christmas had come early.

And Hermione, who had gone to Madam Pomfrey for Burn-Healing Paste, wasn't sure how she would explain to Harry that Professor Snape now had possession of his father's map.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 9

October Realizations

Harry groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"Correct me if I'm hearing you wrong," he said blearily. "Are you telling me that Snape has the Marauder's Map?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded an affirmative.

"And he knows how to use it?" Harry pressed.

"He likely heard me use the password to open it and wipe it blank," Hermione admitted.

Ron and Ginny groaned.

"We're doomed," Ginny said, plucking at a lose thread in the red Gryffindor armchair that was so popular in the Common Room. "No more midnight wanderings."

"Not for you, anyways," Ron said. "Hermione and I can stay out late. It's the two of you who will have to watch your steps."

"I don't suppose I can just to go him and ask for it back," Harry grumbled.

"Seems unlikely to me," Ron agreed.

"And to top it off, Gryffindor lost three-hundred and fifty-five points?" Harry demanded.

"Look at the hourglass for yourself," Ginny said, pointing to the four hourglasses hanging in the Entrance Hall.

Harry sighed and groaned.

"I am going to tell Fred and George- for the second time- to be more careful about to whom they sell their products," he said, "or to at least inquire about why they need such explosive things."

"They can't do that, it's a part of their 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' customer policy," Ginny said at once.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "To be fair, it was a creative bit of magic, charming those pumpkins," she said.

"Yeah, they should have gotten some points for creativity," Ron said sarcastically.

"They might have, if Dennis hadn't set off the box while trying to escape," Hermione replied archly. "Professor Snape and I got caught in the explosion; had we been any closer to the railing, I might've been thrown off the tower."

The silence that fell over the group became palpable.

"You didn't tell us about that bit," Harry said at last.

Hermione shrugged. "He set the box off, the two of them ran for the stairs, and the fireworks exploded."

The looks in her friends' eyes became murderous.

Uh-oh, Hermione thought as Harry and Ron both stood up and headed for the Boy's Dormitory. She had a feeling the Creevys were in for another telling-off.

Well, she rather thought they deserved it. They could have killed themselves, as well as her and Snape, with that idiotic stunt they pulled. Having just survived a war, Hermione had no interest in killing herself by being blasted off the Astronomy Tower.

As a result of the Creevy brothers' mayhem, the Halloween Feast had concluded early, but very few students were disappointed. They found the fireworks entertaining and the pumpkins amusing. Many of them had already been full by the time the army had marched in, and thus, no one went to bed actually hungry. Plus, the house elves now had a slurpus stock of fresh pumpkin juice.

None of the students were aware that the Head Girl had almost been thrown off the Astronomy Tower.

Hermione shuddered slightly when she thought of what a close call that had been. Had she been standing a little more off to the side, she might have gone over instead of being bodily thrown into the rails.

Yes, the Creevy brothers had certainly lost favor with the Head Girl.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by Ginny. She started for a moment.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione said, clearing her thoughts. "I didn't hear what you were saying."

Ginny gave her a strange look.

"I said I was going to the Library to study for tomorrow's Charms quiz," she repeated. "I wondered if you wanted to come along."

"Oh- no, I'm fine." Hermione said. "In fact, I think- I think I'll just go to bed," she ended lamely. "It's been a long night."

"Of course," Ginny agreed. Hermione stood up, followed Ginny out of the portrait hole, bade her goodnight, and headed for her rooms.

She did not notice a pair of brown eyes following her with distaste.

~o~O~o~

Hermione was now fairly certain that someone out there hated her.

It was just small things, really. Her pumpkin juice that morning had been switched with sparkling apple cider, which anyone, if they knew Hermione, would know she absolutely hated. Her sausage at lunch had been turned stone cold, though it had been warm when she'd put it on her plate. And she wasn't sure whether she'd simply been clumsy, or if someone had cast a trip-jinx on her on the way to the Library after dinner.

After her near-miss on the Astronomy Tower, she wasn't pleased with this development.

They were a week into November when Hermione finally came to the conclusion that someone was actually out to get her, and she wasn't simply going crazy.

At first, she considered that it might have been the Creevy brothers, considering that it was she, much to Snape's amusement, who had deducted all of Gryffindor's points. But a little bit of Legilimency on Harry's part showed that they were far from being vengeful; after the telling off issued by their role model and hero, they were both very remorseful. The two had even come to Hermione privately later on in the week to appologize belatedly for their idiocy. Hermione appreciated this, but it didn't help her get any closer to figuring out who was pulling these juvenile pranks on her.

It also seemed that Susan was having similar problems. She confided to Hermione that someone had stolen her Potions book, likely in an attempt to get her in trouble with Professor Snape. Whoever it was had succeeded, because the second week back in school, Susan had a week's detention for "being unprepared for class." It was to be expected that Snape wouldn't give any student not even his own Slytherins anymore- leeway, no matter the circumstances, unless the Headmaster himself came down and ordered him to. Regardless, it was still infuriating.

For the past week, Ron and Susan had been spending all of their free time working studiously together in the Library. Hermione rather thought that Susan was an excellent influence on Ron, and thus no longer badgered him about getting his work done when Susan had apparently discovered a much easier way to convince him to do it. But while Susan was in detention, they did not have afternoons off in the Library to work together.

It was Friday evening when Hermione put down her Transfiguration text to the disturbance of someone arguing. Students were supposed to be quiet in the Library, and Hermione's authoritarian bookworm side won out; she went to find the source of the disruption.

She was surprised to find that Ron was sitting at his table, arguing loudly, but also trying to keep his voice at an undertone whisper, with Lavender Brown. He had apparently been interrupted while working on his Charms essay. Against her better judgement, Hermione shrank back into the shadows to eavesdrop rather than directly interfere.

"I can't believe this, Lavender," Ron said. His voice was cold, something Hermione rarely heard from Ron. It was a dangerous sign. "After everything Hermione's done for you: tutored you in classes, helped you correct essays, and even invited you to the DA- this is how you repay her?"

Hearing this from Ron was certainly a surprise. What had Lavender done now?

Hermione couldn't see Lavender's face properly, but she could hear the disgust in the girl's tone. "That's nothing," Lavender replied disdainfully. "It was nothing, Won-won, really. I just-"

"I'm not your 'Won-won'," Ron told her, sneering at her in a manner horribly reminiscent of Professor Snape. It looked wrong on Ron's face, but it was there nonetheless. "Don't call me that."

Lavender looked hurt. "Ron, we had something special," she said, and Hermione could hear the pout in the girl's voice. "You threw that away to go running off with your precious Granger looking for stupid dark artifacts last summer-"

"Lavender, we broke it off before Snape and Dumbledore staged the Headmaster's death," Ron said coldly. "I did not 'throw it away' to go running off with Hermione. We were with Harry trying to bring down You-Know-Who. I broke it off because it just wasn't working, and- yes- I was interested in Hermione, but I'm not now. I'm with Susan."

"She's in detention right now," Lavender said suggestively. She took a step forward, but Ron held up a hand to keep her at arms length.

"And from what you've told me, that's your fault," Ron snarled.

"I just wanted us to have some private time," Lavender said in a falsely meek voice. "But it's hard when you spend so much time with her."

"That's because we're together, Lavender."

"And you'll probably break it off soon with her, the way you did with me," Lavender said bitterly. "So why don't you just speed up the process and come back to me?"

Hermione heard Ron slam the Charms reference book he'd been using on the table. Hermione winced at the harsh treatment of the book, but could hardly fail to catch Ron's next words.

"You were an experience," Ron said, placing emphasis on the word. "Hermione was misplaced affection- I love her as a sister, not a romantic interest. That was my mistake. Susan is the real deal."

"You can't be serious," Lavender said with a girly laugh. "You clearly have developed poor taste in girls- first you went for that buck-toothed swot, and now you're with that thick Hufflepuff-"

Lavender broke off and Hermione peered closer to see why; what she saw was Ron's wand poking the Gryffindor girl at the tip of her clavicle.

"I suggest you get out of here, Lavender, before I loose my temper," Ron told her threateningly.

Lavender hesitated, weighed the consequences, and then turned around and left.

"And stop harassing Susan and 'Mione," Ron ordered at her retreating back. "Or I swear to Merlin, I will break my self-imposed rule of leniency on Gryffindors and put you in detention."

Lavender whipped around in surprise, looked like she was about to protest, but then shut her mouth with an audible click and hurried away.

Hermione saw the outline of Ron's profile heave a sigh, and then sit back down in his chair.

"Blimey," she heard him mutter. "Thank Merlin I only have one sister."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 10

November Tricks

Hermione wasn't sure what to do with the new information she had acquired concerning the small accidents and unexplained occurences that had been persistent throughout the previous week. On one hand, she now knew that Lavender, in her jealously (privately, Hermione was thankful that she had not set her onto Ron) had been pulling those puerile pranks on her and Susan. On the other hand, she'd been eavesdropping and wasn't supposed to know.

Ron had not said anything about his encounter with Lavender as of yet, but he'd seemed a little more aware now, watching Hermione and Susan simultaneously for any sign of accidents being caused by an outside force. This meant that he had not dismissed what Lavender had done as something that could be ignored, but was instead being prepared, waiting for proof or physical evidence before punishing her for it. Hermione agreed that this was a smart move- without evidence or another occurrence, it was simply Ron's word against her's, and if this turned into a mess, people would be picking sides. It was much better to wait.

Hermione had never really appreciated Ron's skill in strategy until now. No wonder he was such a good chess player; when he actually put his mind to it, he made a very efficient general.

No more incidents occurred that week. Susan's missing book reappeared in her bookbag just as mysteriously as it had disappeared, and Hermione no longer worried about tripping over some invisible object on her way to the Library.

Hermione continued to treat the Library almost as a second place of residence. On more than one occasion, she would wake up in the morning, back and neck still (sore?), from falling asleep hunched over a book. She studied, reviewed, and revised rabidly, and on more than one occasion, she was advised to slow down.

"I can't,"she'd reply frantically. "My NEWTs are only two weeks away!" Dumbledore had arranged for her to take her exams on the twentieth of November, a Saturday. Dark circles had started appearing under her eyes, and she'd started skipping meals.

The only positive thing that came out of all of this was that, since Hermione was so busy with her preparations and Harry and Ginny were devoting their time and energy into their studies and eachother, Ron and Susan were left with plenty of opportunities to spend time working together, undisturbed, without feeling as though they were snubbing their friends.

~o~O~o~

It was a week before Hermione's NEWTs that Harry and Ron were both approached by McGonagall for a discussion on careers. The two were seated in her office and examining blue sheaves of paper advertising the Auror Training Programme.

"The two of you expressed the desire to become Aurors during your career consulting back in fifth year," McGonagall told them. "And for the past two years, the both of you have achieved all required grades- with the exception of your NEWTs, which will be taken at the end of the year- to be accepted into the pool of applicants for screening and then training. Provided you get the required grades for this year's NEWTs, you could easily be accepted into the programme as soon as graduation."

The two boys looked at McGonagall in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"I've called you in here to clarify several things," McGonagall said, pouring herself a cup of tea. "First, I feel it necessary to confirm that the two of you still want to the Aurors."

Both boys immediately concurred that they were still serious in their ambition to become Aurors.

"Excellent," McGonagall said, looking pleased. "Now, I am fully aware of how draining classes are at the NEWT level, and if the two of are you are still inclined to follow this road, I would suggest taking you out of certain classes and putting you in a study group to better manage your work."

Harry and Ron couldn't believe their ears.

"Which classes, Professor?"

"I am well aware that History of Magic is not as productive as one would otherwise wish it were," McGongall said, with a look of disdain at her teacup. "And to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if you could teach the current Defense Against the Dark Arts class yourself." The post was currently occupied by a balding, middle-aged Ministry worker who clearly had only a very basic grounding in the subject. Professor Dembaugh was not very popular with the students; while he was not actively trying to prevent them from learning as Umbridge had his mere mediocrity in the subject more than made up for it.

Harry and Ron looked as though Christmas had come early, and were being told by Santa that they were going to get a particularly large load this year.

"With the new free time given, you will be working on advanced courses and catching up on schoolwork," McGonagall told them sternly. "As you are adults, you won't need to be chaperoned by a teacher to make sure you're getting your work done, but you are expected to behave deservingly of these privlages."

"Of course, Professor," Ron assured her.

McGonagall's normally austere expression softed just a bit.

"I have noticed the two of you working particularly hard the past few weeks," she told them, "and I sincerely hope you keep up the good work."

Both boys were greatly appreciative of these accolades- McGonagall rarely gave any out.

The clock over the mantlepiece in McGonagall's office chimed, signalling the start of class.

"I will give you the new schedules tomorrow," McGonagall informed them. "Now off you go."

Hermione was ecstatic for them when they informed her of this new development the next morning.

"That's wonderful, you two," she said. "This is great, really great- you'll get to work on the subjects most important for that sort of career. It's just a rearrangement of time and energy, a way to manage everything more efficiently…" she trailed off, her attention diverted by the arrival of post. The three owls that landed in front of her were a surprise- she was only expecting the paper- but she set aside her two letters to unfold her edition of the Daily Prophet and begin scanning the front page.

"Anything interesting?"Ron asked her between mouthfuls of kipper.

"Not really," Hermione answered, still scanning the page. A moment later, her eyes widened, and she let out a soft, "oh."

"What is it?" Harry asked. In response, Hermione handed the paper over to Harry, who shook it out and held it between him and Ron, so the two of them could read it silently.

With the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named coming to a close with the successful prosecution and imprisonment of all Death Eaters, the Ministry has turned it's eye upon other parties who have had dealings with You-Know-Who.

"We got all of the damn Death Eaters rotting in Azkaban, but that's not everyone who was on You-Know-Who's side," one unamed Ministry employee said."We've still got turncoats- people who betrayed him in return for sanctuary on our side. We're going to be prosecuting them, now, for war crimes. They may have helped us win, but they're still criminals."

The vote to prosecute informants and spies working for both the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix was 11-39, where a disagreement over the ethical implications of such action members insisted that imprisoning those who spied on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named should be commended for their work and absolved of all crimes for their priceless contribution; they added that betraying the trust of those who came to them for sanctuary would be a bad move, considering that many of these people had family, friends, and alies who would testify on their majority of the Wizengamot disagreed with this view.

"These people only came to our side because they were frightened that You-Know-Who would fall," Rufus Scrimgeous, Minster of Magic, said to the crowd of gathered reporters outside his office. "Allowing them to walk away for helping us get a few tidbits of information is against everything the Ministry of Magic stands for."

But the vote has been cast, and starting December 1st, the Wizengamot will be holding public trials to deal with these spies. Harry Potter is among a few prominent figures expected to testify against these criminals.

Harry and Ron looked up with identical expressions of disgust on their faces. Hermione took back the paper and continued to scan it for any other pertinent information.

"Let's see what's in those letters," she said finally, folding up the newspaper and setting it aside to open the first envelope- a creamy white envelope carrying the Ministry's seal. It was addressed to all three of them, although it notably seemed to be directed more at Harry than the other two.

"Dear Mr. Harry James Potter, Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Miss Hermione Jane Granger," Harry read aloud, "You are hereby formally summoned to attend the hearing of one Lucius Abraxas Malfoy on the subject of his role as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix on Saturday, December 4th. Signed, Percy Ignatus Weasley."

"Percy's been promoted?" Ron asked in disbelief. "That prat?"

"I thought you'd patched things up," Hermione said.

"We did, but that doesn't mean he's not a prat," Ron muttered. He looked back down at the letter in Harry's hand. "As for ol' Lucius, I might not like the guy, but we can't deny that he's not half as bad when he's not acting like a complete snob. And we owe it to him to testify on his behalf, don't we? Especially after the help he gave us in getting into Gringotts…"

"Of course we're going to testify on his behalf!" Hermione said indignantly. She turned to Harry. "Aren't we?"

Harry stared down at the letter pensively. "I'll say nothing but the truth," he said finally, "but I haven't forgotten how he slipped Riddle's diary to Ginny in second year."

This was still a sore spot between Harry and Malfoy Sr, but at least, Hermione thought, Harry and Ron were being amazingly mature about this.

Harry reached for the second envelope and set the first one aside. As with the first, he read the second one aloud:

"Dear Mr. Harry James Potter, Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Miss Hermione Jane Granger," Harry said, "You are hereby formally summoned to attend the hearing of one Severus Tobias Snape on the subject of his role as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix on Saturday, December 11th."

"Snape?" Ron asked in disbelief. "After all this time, they're going to try and send Snape to Azkaban?"

"They can't do that," Harry said calmly. "He was a spy for nearly twenty years- he didn't suddenly turn when things started looking bad for Voldemort." He set the letter down. "We'll simply tell the truth. He's a downright nasty git at times, but he's one of the bravest men I've ever known."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Ron snickered, "or it'll be twenty points from Gryffindor for defamation of character." Hermione smacked him over the head for this. "Ow!"

"Grow up," she told him, but she was smiling. Turning back to Harry, she voiced the worry that all three of them had; "What if they don't absolve him of guilt?"

"Then we break him out of Azkaban," Harry said simply, but this was said light-heartedly. "But I sincerely hope it won't have to come to that."

As one, all three of them looked up at the High Table, where Snape was sitting in his usual spot at the far end. His expression was calamitous as he silently read the contents of another creamy white Minstry-marked envelope.

"I pity whoever has his class this morning," Ron remarked as they got up to prepare for Transfiguration.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 11

November Hope

As predicted, Snape was in a foul mood for the rest of the week. He hardly spoke two words to anyone in that time, prefering to merely spell the instructions for his class onto the board and let the students get started on their work. Anyone who had a subscription to the Daily Prophet had a general idea of what was the cause of his particular mood, but no one quite knew what to do to allay it. Several other students were sent letters from the Ministry summoning them to attend to various hearings. Harry was summoned to attend more than fifteen individual hearings, which was unsurprising, but really quite annoying.

Hermione, however, had more pressing matters at hand. By the time they had reached the week leading up to her NEWTs, she had taken to skipping meals in the Great Hall and would sit outside the Library at mealtime, still studying, and ordering food from a House Elf.

"So much for spew," Ron joked.

She also never made it back to her rooms at night. She had taken to sleeping in the Library, much to Madam Pince's annoyance.

It was a weary Hermione who had been woken up in the middle of the night, where she had fallen asleep on top of her Potions text, by the sound of someone sitting at a nearby table, riffling through a book. Knowing that no student should be out of bed at this hour, she reluctantly got up to find the culprit, deduct points, and send them off to bed.

What was surprising was that she found Snape sitting there, looking at the same books on Ministry law that Hermione had been going through when preparing for Buckbeak's trial back in third year. He had set up a lantern on the desk and was looking through the index of The Devil's Advocate.

Hermione stood there for a full minute, watching him pore over the text, before she spoke up:

"You might have better luck looking at Of Law and War, by Liberitus Caper," she advised. Snape snapped the book shut and turned around to face her.

"I didn't ask for your suggestion," he sneered, but Hermione was not put off. She wasn't afraid of him; he might be downright nasty at times, and unnecessarily so, but he was not a man she feared in respect to her own life.

"You don't have to take it, of course," she said bravely. "But I thought it might be more helpful. Not that you'll need it, of course," she added quickly.

"Because no matter what people say, I'll still end up rotting in Azkaban," Snape said bitterly, slamming the book down on the table.

"That won't happen, Sir," Hermione said confidently. "There will be more than enough evidence to exonerate you." Seeing his disparaging look in her direction, she elaborated; "All the times you stopped Harry from getting himself killed, for starters. That has to count for something."

Snape scowled at her. "Potter is more likely to testify against me than for me," he told her.

"No, he won't," Hermione told him. Seeing the disbelieving look on his face, she added; "When we first got the summons to attend the hearing, we all agreed to tell the truth. You're not going to Azkaban, Professor, although I can't say the Wizengamot won't try. But you have The-Boy-Who-Lived on your side, Sir, and a lot of people are going to support his views."

Snape gave her a long, hard look. He turned to stare down at his left arm, where Hermione knew he hid the Mark under his shirtsleeves, before turning back to address her.

"The truth is only what you make of it," he said finally, standing up and banishing his book back to the shelf with a flick of his wand. "You had best be off to bed, Miss Granger. It's late."

"I've taken to sleeping in the Library," Hermione admitted.

"That would certainly explain your attire," Snape remarked, staring at her rumpled robes, which she wore over a set of ridiculous purple duck-patterned pajamas that her parents had given her for Christmas the previous year.

Hermione smiled, and watched as Snape extinguished the lantern with another wave of his wand, before disappearing between the bookshelves like a shadow. "Goodnight, Professor," she called to his retreating back. There was no reply, and she expected none, but Hermione felt a bit better knowing that she had given Professor Snape something that he had largely been without for the past twenty years: Hope.

With a tired yawn, she retreated back to her corner of the Library and went back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 12

November NEWTS: The Written Exam

The morning of Hermione's NEWTs dawned, cold, wet, and grey. The weather was downright nasty, and the castle was damp and uninvitingly freezing. Hermione, who still had injuries from the war, was miserable; her side, where she'd been struck by Dolohov's curse, always became irritated and sore when it came in contact with cold and damp conditions. Hermione suspected it was a side effect of the curse. Nevertheless, she forced herself to get out of bed- where she'd slept for the first time in nearly three weeks- and got dressed and ready for the exams, which would be starting directly after breakfast.

Ginny had confiscated Hermione's books and left a message on her nightstand ordering her to go down to breakfast and to not even think of stopping by the Library, for whatever reason. The note concluded with the stipulation that this was for Hermione's own good, and that she would undoubtedly pass her NEWTs with flying colors.

Love, Ginny.

Hermione ate a full breakfast for the first time in three weeks, but one night of sleep would not be enough to relieve her of the dark circles under her eyes. She bade her friends goodbye, and walked out to the Entrance Hall, where she would meet her exam proctor.

It was to her great surprise that she found herself meeting Professor Tofty in the Entrance Hall. Hermione remembered him from last year's O.W.L exams, and he clearly remembered her as well. Shaking her hand enthusiastically, he informed her, unnecessarily, that he would be conducting all of her exams. He directed her to the Transfiguration classroom, where he sent her to sit at a desk in the front row.

"You will be taking all of your written exams first," he told her, as he handed her the stack of tests she would be completing. "You have two hours available for each test. If you finish early, you may turn in the paper and get started on the next." He gestured at the hourglass sitting on McGonagall's desk. "Begin."

Hermione had seven NEWT exams to take, but, predictably, she got through the first three rather quickly. Charms was fairly easy, even at the NEWT level. Much of what was being asked, Hermione had already had experience with, such as Protean charms. History of Magic was a bit more difficult; when asked about the Warlock Convention of 1786, Hermione was momentarily stumped as she tried to remember how many participants had not gone due to a severe outbreak of Dragonpox. Hermione had never liked Herbology, but having dealt with the Devil's Snare twice now, she was fairly certain that she could say, 'no, it does not like warmth and light. Set it on fire to get it to stop strangling you.' These were the easy NEWTs, and took no more than a total of three hours to complete.

It was when she started the DADA exam that things got a bit complicated. 'Explain the effects of the Brain-Boiling charm.' That was simple enough. 'List the side effects of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse.' Hermione didn't know how many to list, so she wrote them all. It expanded into two pages of densely-written text, covering everything from spastic tremors and oversensitized nerves to insanity and, the worst case scenario, death by shock.

The Arithmancy exam asked her to predict the outcomes of certain scenarios by plugging in what little information was given. Hermione excelled at this, although it was time-consuming in its complexity. In Ancient Runes, Hermione had to translate complex sentence structures and then rearrange them to be grammatically correct. There were deliberate mistakes in the text that needed to be corrected, words that needed to be translated from English into three versions of the Runic Alphabet, and, as a bonus, you were asked to derive a new, easily translatable rune using nouns.

The Potions N.E.W.T, after asking how to identify and combine certain ingredients and how to determine whether a certain combination will likely cause effervescence, demanded essays on particular potions: Wolfsbane, Felix Felicis, Amortentia, and Draught of Living Death among them. Hermione's palms were sweaty, and the quill she was using was starting to get rather rumpled by the time she'd finished.

Transfiguration was by far the most difficult. The test asked for her to explain Gamp's law of Transfiguration, among other laws, theories, and postulates, after which she was to then describe the incantation and wand movements for transfiguring certain objects, both animate and inanimate. 'What incantation and wand movements are used to transfigure toothpicks into flamingos?' and 'How would you transfigure an object consisting of more than 80% water into an object that only contained 20%?' were examples of questions placed before her. For the latter, Hermione explained that one usually forces the excess water to evaporate, which is why such Transfigurations often result in a mist that had been previously unexplained in Transfiguration history.

Hermione was grateful when, ten hours later, after having neither rest nor food, she finally finished. She groaned, set her quill down, and stretched her sore fingers. Professor Tofty swept by to pick up her neatly stacked exam papers, thumbing through them momentarily to check that they were all completed.

"Wonderful," he said. "Very well, Miss Granger- you may go. Your practical will commence tomorrow."

"Thank you," Hermione said, standing up. She wobbled in place for a moment, putting a hand on her desk to support herself. Dizzy with fatigue and hunger, she barely managed to get out a, "I'll see you tomorrow then, Sir," before she promptly collapsed.

~o~O~o~

Hermione woke up in the hospital wing, face pressed into the sheets. She slowly sat up, eyes adjusting to the brightness of the sun-lit room, and realized that she was alone. It was nice, since it was quiet, and the silence gave her a moment to deal with the pounding in her head. Still, it was a strange occurrence. Normally, when one woke up in the hospital wing, they had friends sitting by their side, waiting for them.

Madam Pomfrey must have been watching Hermione from her office, because, the moment she sat up, the medi-witch immediately came over to see how she was doing. She gestured at the tray of warm food being held in stasis on Hermione's nightstand, and informed her that, after taking the test, and, as a result of not eating anything in between exams, Hermione had fainted simply from overworking. Pomfrey informed her that Professor Tofty had called her down to the classroom when Hermione hadn't awoken.

Hermione panicked for a moment when Pomfrey told her this. "Did I faint before I finished my NEWTs?" she asked, an almost frantic edge to her voice. When Pomfrey assured her that she had finished, Hermione relaxed.

"And now," Pomfrey told her sternly, "you will eat."

Hermioine had no inclination to argue, and availed herself of the warm soup sitting on her nightstand.

She was released from the Hospital Wing forty-five minutes later, after assuring Madam Pomfrey that she would eat a full dinner and get plenty of rest. Hermione, who was well rested but still exhausted and hungry, deliberated between visiting her friends in Gryffindor Tower and going to her rooms to get some more food and sleep.

Deciding that she could talk to them later, she made her way to her rooms and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Lavender leaving the corridor that led to the Head students' rooms. She highly doubted that Lavender was there to see Draco, and, remembering her earlier discovery of Lavender's vengeance, she called out for the girl to halt.

Lavender turned around warily, and, when she saw it was Hermione, immediately became defensive.

"What do you want?" she snapped, but Hermione could detect an edge of nervousness in her voice.

"Come to my room with me," Hermione told her cooly. "I think we need to have a private discussion."

Lavender paled and tried to come up with an excuse. "I- I can't. Professor McGonagall is expecting me-"

"I'm going to give you one chance to come clean with this, Lavender," Hermione said coldly. "And if you lie to me one more time, it will be detention."

Lavender opened and shut her mouth once, then fell silent. She followed Hermione back to her rooms, where Hermione gave the password to the portrait of Arsenius Jigger ("Salamander blood") that allowed the two girls in.

Hermione's room, which was normally kept immaculately neat, appeared to have been ransacked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13

November Intermission

Hermione's normally neat, immaculate room appeared to have been ransacked.

The entire room consisted of a large bed with red-and-gold covers, an oakwood dresser, a nightstand, and a desk. The room color scheme was Gryffindor, and touched upon the drapes and carpet with lion patterns. The odd objects Hermione had collected over the years, as a result of her few packrat tendencies, were usually arranged on her dresser. These consisted of a jar of everlasting blue-bell flames in a jam jar (from first year), a basilisk fang (second year), a Hippogriff feather from Buckbeak (third year), a pair of omnioculars from the Quidditch World Cup (fourth year), a DA Galleon (fifth year), and an empty vial of Felix Felicis (sixth year.)

These items were scattered about the room now, amidst the shredded bed hangings and drapes. Crookshanks peered out from under the dresser balefully, glaring at Lavender. Hermione turned to the girl, lips pursed.

"I didn't do it," Lavender said shrilly, taking a step back. "I-"

"I thought I told you not to lie to me," Hermione responded calmly. She was masking bubbling rage with a mask of smooth indifference, a very difficult feat in light of this attack on her personal property. She waved her wand and cast a powerful reparo; the room set itself to rights, repairing the torn drapes and shredded bed coverings. She levitated the objects back onto her dresser, grateful that she had kept the Basilisk fang in stasis and put an Unbreakable charm on the other, more fragile objects. "I know you're the one who kept pulling those puerile pranks on me a few days ago, and you stole Susan's Potions book too."

Lavender paled. "I didn't-"

"One last time, Lavender," Hermione interrupted. "Lie again to me and it will be straight to Professor McGonagall, who I can assure you will give no quarter when I bring this to her. I overheard you talking to Ron that night in the Library. I have the confession, and all the witness, I might add, that I need."

Lavender's mouth clicked shut. Hermione was tempted to send her to McGonagall anyways, but she wanted to give Lavender a chance at redeeming herself. The girl was snobbish, prideful, and just a bit shallow, but Hermione also knew there was a sensitive, insecure girl there who was dealing with the repercussions of the war and with being rejected. Only, in her case, rejection had made her spiteful and mean rather than pensive and self-reflective. Instead of tattling and sending her to be punished by the teachers, Hermione was going to try and set her on the right path. If that failed, to McGonagall it would go.

Even after all of this, Hermione still believed in second chances.

Hermione took a seat at her desk, turned her chair around to face Lavender, and then leaned back so as to look a little less intimidating. Appearing relaxed was the first step to decieving appearances.

"Can you start off by telling me what you were thinking when you started hexing us when our backs were turned," Hermione asked, "and tell me why?"

Lavender took a seat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out a corner with her hand almost compulsively. "Ron was spending so much time with that- that Hufflepuff- and I… I…"

"You wanted to get back at me for setting him up with Susan?" Hermione guessed, raising an eyebrow. Lavender's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not stupid, Lavender. I may have my nose in a book, but I'm not a social recluse. I know you like Ron. However…" Hermione took a moment to phrase her next words carefully. "I think that, if you were honest with yourself, you would see that you like the idea of Ron more than actually being with Ron."

Lavender's eyes narrowed. "How would you know?"

"Because I used to have feelings for Ron that went beyond the boundaries of a platonic relationship back in sixth year," Hermione replied calmly. "It was just a phase that I grew out of. But I think you're clinging onto him because- and after everything that's happened, it's understandable- he's like a safety net for you."

Lavender glared at her through slightly watering eyes. "He doesn't like me because of what Greyback did to me," she said, looking down at her lap while biting back tears. "The scars- I use a glamor to cover them up, but they're all along my jaw-"

"Ron wouldn't care about that," Hermione told her honestly. "He certainly doesn't care about the scars I have."

"You don't have scars." Lavender's voice sounded uncertain, even to her.

Hermione laughed almost bitterly. "You think that after throwing myself into the thick of things, I would have gotten away unscathed?" her voice suddenly turned harsh. "Antonin Dolohov cursed me back in the Department of Mysteries, and the mark on my side hasn't gone away since. Belatrix Lestrange saw fit to torture me when we were caught while hunting Horc- Dark artifacts. You should see the words she carved into my back."

Lavender gazed at her with a look akin to horror.

"And Susan may not have visible scars, but I guarantee you, after losing both her father and her aunt, she has scarring that can't be seen on first sight," Hermione assured her. "You were relatively lucky, Lavender. Trust me when I say scarring or looks are not the reasons Ron rejected you."

Lavender's shoulders sagged, though whether in relief or despair Hermione could not tell.

"Ron may have been somewhat shallow and a prat at one time, but he's matured a bit," Hermione continued. "He's found someone he likes- more than I think he ever liked either of us, I think. Just because Ron's taken doesn't mean it's the end of the world for you."

Lavender shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Boys don't like-"

"Men don't care about looks over personality," Hermione said stiffly. She amended, "Well, only the stupid ones want to marry a brainless chit. We're not kids anymore, Lavender. We're adults. We've been through a war, and some have lost or suffered more than others. We no longer look for relationships with other people simply because they look nice and have a nice laugh."

"Are you calling me shallow?"

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully at this, and then looked meaningfully over at her drapes, which had just moments ago been torn to shreds. "I think I'm telling you that you're still acting like a child amongst a group of people who haven't been children for a long time."

Lavender bit her lip at this statement, unable to refute it.

"And I think I'm also telling you that it's time to grow up," Hermione added gently.

Lavender refused to look Hermione in the eyes as she replied, "I'll think over what you've said to me."

"Good," Hermione said. She and Lavender both stood up, and Hermione walked her to the door. "Because I've just come back from a very difficult ten-hour NEWT exam and have the other half to take tomorrow," she said, "I'm tired, and I need sleep."

Lavender looked at her guiltily. "I'm sorry for what I did."

Hermione smiled, albeit a bit tiredly. The dark circles under her eyes were very prominent in the shadowed light. "As long as you've learned something from all of this, I'm happy," she said. "I won't even dock points or give detention."

Lavender grinned a bit weakly at this. "Oh, is the Head Girl letting a student off the hook?"

"Possibly," Hermione said a bit mysteriously. Both girls giggled at this. Then Lavender bade Hermione goodnight, which Hermione returned, and then left.

With business concluded, Hermione coaxed Crookshanks out from under the dresser and got into bed, curled up with her cat.

"You know, Crooks," Hermione said, extinguishing the light with her wand, "I sometimes wonder if even I'm a bit too soft for my own good. Any other Prefect or Head in my shoes would have sent her straight to McGonagall."

The half-kneazle purred in agreement.

"But I think, in this case, it turned out for the best," Hermione said, setting her head down on the pillow. She scratched Crookshanks's ear, who purred in responsive contentment. "Good night, Crooks."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14

November NEWTS: The Practical Exam

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling quite refreshed. She slid out of bed, and found Crookshanks sitting on top of her dresser, paws folded beneath him, sitting alongside the odd collection of objects she'd kept over the years. Sitting next to them, he didn't look the least bit out of place. In her half-woken state, Hermione found this notion to be quite funny, and she chuckled at the half-kneazle, who gave an indignant mew in response.

Hermione once again headed down for breakfast, where Ginny was waiting for her. Harry and Ron were having one-on-one Quidditch practice; Harry was still Captain of the Gryffindor team.

"We heard about what happened yesterday," Ginny told her as she sat down.

Seeing her arrival, Draco excused himself from the Slytherin table and saunted over to them.

"I can't believe you went the whole time without asking for a snack! Or at least a break! Were you trying to kill yourself? If the Death Eaters failed to do the job, you seem to be doing it for them!"

"You're being dramatic, Ginny," Hermione told her calmly, buttering herself some toast. "I was just a little overworked. It won't happen again. I'll ask for a break at lunchtime."

Ginny was saved from replying by Draco's arrival to their table. "Hello, ladies," he greeted in typical Malfoy fashion. He took a seat next to Ginny. "So are the rumors true that not only does our residential swot do her homework months in advance, but also her NEWTs?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," Hermione said, but playfully. "Yes, yes I am taking my NEWTs. I took the written portion of the exam yesterday, and I'm scheduled to take the practical after breakfast."

"And is it also true that you fainted after you finished?" Malfoy was grinning. "Did the excitement of achieiving your life's goal get to you?"

Hermione's lips twitched. "No. I was just exhausted after ten hours without food or a break."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, in a manner that was just a bit like his godfather's. "You skipped lunch?"

"Not on purpose," Hermione said. "I was just so caught up in it, and it didn't occur to me to ask."

"'It didn't occur to me to ask,'" Ginny mimicked. Hermione shushed her. Draco merely looked amused.

"Well, be sure you don't overwork yourself today," he said. Then he finally revealed the real reason why he'd come over. "As I'm sure you know, my father and godfather are being put on trial for their roles in the war. Considering you've been summoned to the hearings to testify…" he trailed off.

"Trust me when I say we're not testifying against them," Hermione assured him, and Draco's face relaxed just a fraction. It was only then Hermione understood how much stress the younger Malfoy was under. "We're going to tell the truth. If they ask if your father was a spy for the Order, we will answer yes. If they ask if it's true that he slipped Ginny a cursed diary in her first year-" Draco winced at this and shot Ginny an apologetic glance, "-we will also answer, truthfully, yes. In fact, I suspect the lot of us will be given Veritaserum, considering the double-role nature of spies and their surprising network placements. But I promise you," she added, "that we- and that includes Harry and Ron- will do our best to keep both your father and Professor Snape out of Azkaban."

Draco's face relaxed even further with relief. "Thank you, Hermione," he said. In typical Malfoy fashion, he added, "I don't know how we could possibly repay you guys for your support-"

"Actually, there is a way you could help me," Hermione told him. Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise, and Hermione continued, "In a few weeks, days even, I will no longer be a student." Both of Draco's eyebrows rose. "When that happens, I will be a member of staff, but I can easily predict that I'll get a lot of trouble from the students," she continued. "They'll think me an easy mark, the way they always do with new teachers. I'll be too busy studying for my apprenticeship to be up to dealing with- with Slytherin well-wishers."

The last part of that sentence was said rather meaningfully. Draco caught on immediately, but allowed Hermione to continue.

"It would be very helpful if you could assert your influence over your fellow Slytherins and keep any disruptions to a bare minimum," Hermione finished delicately. "I know that, considering everyone's so impressed with your contribution and role in the war, this should be a simple task for you. It would help me greatly," she added.

Draco nodded. "I'll hold a house meeting once it's announced to the school," he promised. Then his face twisted into a smirk. "So what are you apprenticing in?"

"Transfiguration," Hermione told him. "I'll be taking up the teaching post once McGonagall becomes headmistress."

"I think I'm beginning to see a pattern here. What is it with Gryffindors?" Ginny elbowed him for this remark, and Draco scooted away a few inches. "No, no, don't get me wrong," he pleaded dramatically, holding his hands up for effect, but still grinning snidely. "Dumbledore was Transfiguration Professor, Head of Gryffindor, and then Headmaster, soon to be followed by McGonagall. No doubt, a few years along the road…"

"I'm flattered that you think I'd make it as Headmistress, but really, Draco, the next Deputy Head will likely be Flitwick or- or Professor Snape." Hermione hesitated on the last name; that would only be happening if the Potions professor managed to keep out of Azkaban.

"Well, there's no harm in hoping," Draco said cheerfully. He looked at his watch. "It's almost eight o'clock- what time does your exam start?"

"In five minutes," Hermione said, taking a final bite of toast and standing up. She bid them goodbye, and then walked out to the Entrance Hall.

Professor Tofty was there again this morning. "Good morning," he greeted her. "I hope you're feeling better?"

"Yes, Sir," Hermione said. "I was just a little overworked yesterday, that's all."

Professor Tofty inclined his bald head. "Very well then, Miss Granger. Walk with me to the Transfiguration Courtyard, won't you?"

As they descended the stairs, Professor Tofty spoke to her. "Many of the Ministry departments, when they heard you were taking your NEWTs early, decided to draft up job and apprenticeship offers," he said. "They all wish for you - Miss Granger, war hero, and brilliant student - to work under them. You would be a feather in their cap."

"I was not aware that I was sought after, Sir," Hermione replied in accentuated puzzlement. "I merely wish to train as the next Transfiguration teacher."

"Nevertheless, I felt I should warn you, beforehand, that you will receive many tempting offers," Professor Tofty informed her.

Hermione gave him a curious look. "Why would you warn me in advance, Sir? It would seem to me that you would only do this if you had some stock in what I choose to do with my life after relinquishing my role as a student."

Professor Tofty's eyes twinkled. "I see your intelligence is not lauded for nothing, my dear. You are quite right. My reason, however, is a bit more benign than the Ministry's."

"Pray tell, Sir," Hermione responded calmly.

"I used to teach here," Professor Tofty admitted with a reminicing sigh. "I taught Charms until Filius took over. But since joining the Ministry, I have always kept my eye on Hogwarts; it holds a very dear place in my heart. Forgive the sentimentality, if you will, but it always saddened me- and I will even admit to being disgusted- when incompetent teachers were hired."

"Oh," Hermione said softly.

"Considering your reputation and desire to teach," Professor Tofty continued. "It seems to me that you would make an excellent teacher to continue on with the post of Transfiguration. I wanted to warn you in advance, to ask that you do not stray."

"I would not have strayed regardless, Sir," Hermione assured him. "I take my commitments seriously. But I do appreciate the warning," she added, "It means I won't be caught off guard by the sudden influx of mail you're predicting I will receive."

Professor Tofty gave a genuine smile. "Excellent, my dear. It heartens me to know this." They had reached the courtyard, and Professor Tofty gestured at the array of objects that had been prearranged and laid out before her. He pulled out a notebook, summoned a quill to his hand, and pointed to the thick tome nearest to Hermione. "Now, if you could please turn that book into a bird… a pigeon or falcon, preferably, they are much less aggressive than the flamingos…"

Overall, Hermione thought the morning half of the practical went very well. Charms and Transfiguration were simple, and Hermione was very accomplished with her spellwork; she had no problems. The Defense Against the Dark Arts examination once again had her facing a boggart, this time locked inside an eighteenth-century music box.

With Voldemort gone, Hermione's boggart had changed. It was no longer the snake-faced man himself, or his Death Eaters. She was not as childish as Neville had been back in third year to be afraid of Snape, no matter how beastly his mood had been as of late. She no longer had petty, childish fears, imagining Professor McGonagall informing her that she had failed everything, or that she would wake up one morning to find Bellatrix Lestrange standing over her, knife raised, preparing to slit her throat.

The moment the music box was opened, Rufus Scrimgeour's double took shape.

"I sentence Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Severus Tobias Snape to a life imprisonment in Azkaban," the face of the Minister of Magic said, scowling down at Hermione.

Hermione was stunned at this apparition for just a moment, before raising her wand and shouting, "Ridikulus!"

Crack! The boggart turned into Scrimgeour wearing prison robes, with a black-and-white striped jumper underneath and comically dangling chains like the ones seen in Muggle cartoons. Hermione giggled at the ridiculous attire. The boggart gave her a parting glare before whipping itself back into the safety of the music box.

"Wonderful," Professor Tofty said, and Hermione could tell that the old man was doing his best to mask a grin. "Excellent. Now if you could also cast a Patronus…"

Hermione winced. Patronuses had always been her weak spot, but she gave it a shot nevertheless. She recalled the moment the Voldemort had been defeated and the ensuing cry that had come up, celebrating the end of the darkness that had plagued the Wizarding world for nearly fifty years. "Expecto Patronum!"

A large animal- a bit larger than her otter- easily erupted from her wand, and four-legged, furry shape took form. It turned around to face her, and it took Hermione a moment to realize what it was.

It was a fishing cat. Its broad head and webbed-paws were an immediate giveaway. It stared at her with wide, curious eyes, as though wondering what she was doing there just as much as Hermione was wondering about where her otter had gone. It padded over to her to take a sniff, looked up at her once more, and then vanished.

"Excellent again, Miss Granger," Professor Tofty said, making a note in his book. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at her success, but she was also surprised. Her otter had changed into a fishing cat. It was another semi-aquatic animal, but, still, an enormous change.

She supposed the war might have brought it on- Patronuses were said to change or adapt to fit the witch or wizard's feelings or emotions - and the cat was a step up from the otter. She took a moment to reason it out. The otter was a member of the Mustelidae family- which was shared by weasels. Hermione supposed this was a sign that she was well and truly over Ron. The otter must have been a testament to Ron at the time she had first cast her Patronus back in fifth year. But now that she no longer held feelings for him, it changed into an animal a bit more like Hermione.

One foot in both worlds, she supposed.

The next exam she took was Herbology, which they went down to Greenhouse Seven to complete. It involved identifying over twenty different magical plants and handling them properly, as well as using charms to subdue and control them effectively without causing damage. This took up a good portion of an hour and a half. By the time they got back to the castle, Hermione was tired and sweaty, and Professor Tofty advised her to clean up and get lunch. She was to meet him at the entrance to the Dungeons at one o'clock. Relieved, Hermione did as he suggested. After taking a fifteen-minute bath in the Prefect's bathroom, she headed down to the Great Hall for lunch.

Ginny was absent, but Harry and Ron were there this time, accompanied by Susan.

"Oi, Hermione!" Ron called, and Hermione hurried over to take a seat across from him. He grinned at her. "Finished your NEWTs already?"

"No," Hermione informed him, pulling some food onto her plate. "I just took my Herbology exam- I have Potions, next, and then I'll be finished."

"How d'you think you did so far?" Ron asked.

"I think I at least got an Exceeds Expectations," Hermione said, smiling as she took a bite of kipper.

"This from the girl who got a hundred-and-twelve-percent on our end of year tests in first year?" Ron said with a grin. Susan's eyes widened.

"Really?" she asked. "You got a hundred and twelve…?"

"I did," Hermione admitted, embarassed by the look of admiration and amazement Susan was giving her. Turning to Harry, she changed the subject and said, "My Patronus' form changed."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, frowning. He then corrected himself, "Right, stupid question, of course. You probably had to cast it for your exam. What is it now?"

"A fishing cat," Hermione said. Harry raised an eyebrow. "No, really," Hermione said, "it's a semi-aquatic animal, adapted for fishing. It has webbed paws."

"I thought it used to be an otter," Susan recalled, looking at Ron.

"It was," Hermione said, "back in fifth year. I've not cast it again until now."

"That's strange, though," Susan said. Her face brightened up. "Oh, I know! Who do you have a crush on now?"

"No one," Hermione assured her, laughing. "I promise I'm not into anyone right now." She sobbered up, "It's possible that it's my animagus form. Considering I'm so focused on that aspect of my apprenticeship, I wouldn't be surprised if my magic caught onto it and showed me that as my Patronus."

"That must be some form of narcissm, Granger," a voice from behind her drawled. Hermione turned around to see Draco grinning down at her. "Just joking, of course. How'd it go so far?"

"Good," Hermione said. Draco took a seat next to her and she changed the subject. "Where's Ginny?"

"Whipping the Gryffindor team into shape while I help Ron practice his goalkeeping," Harry replied.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"What Harry means is that after yesterday's abysmal practice, Ginny's channeling Oliver Wood's spirit and yelling at them to get their act together," Ron said with a nod. "They wouldn't listen to Harry; they don't take him seriously anymore."

"I suspect it has something to do with the fact that they no longer need to rely on me to save them from Voldemort," Harry said with a grin. Ron elbowed him. "What? I'm serious. I don't get any respect from them anymore. All the little firsties are in awe of me, and the adults treat me like some idol of worship, but I can't impress my peers."

This set the table off laughing. Hermione leaned over to look at Draco's watch and stood up.

"I need to go. Potions," she said, taking one final bite of kipper before leaving the Great Hall. She descended the stairs leading to the Dungeons, where she met Professor Tofty, who was accompanied by Snape. They appeared to have been in deep discussion before she arrived. He sneered down his large nose at her.

"It seems you have it all worked out with the Headmaster," he told Professor Tofty. "As long as my stores are put back the way you found them, I have no objection. Just don't blow yourselves up."

With that said, he swept away, not sparing either of them another glance. Professor Tofty didn't seem to mind. He motioned for her to follow, and the two of them made their way to the Potions classroom, which had already been set up in preparation.

"This exam is really quite simple," Professor Tofty told her, "All that is required is to brew three potions simultaneously- the Essence of Despair, the base for the Draught of Living Death, and the first half of the Wolfsbane potion. You have three hours in which to achieve this." He smiled at her deceptively.

Like hell that's simple, Hermione thought, but she merely nodded her acquiesence, rolled up the sleeves of her robe, and went to the storage cupboard to get the ingredients she would need. As she began pulling ingredients off the shelves, it occurred to her to check that they were actually what they were labeled as. Something in Snape's attitude earlier bugged her- he had seemed genuinely irrate. Following her prerogative, she discovered that the aconite she'd been preparing to take back to her table were really shredded violets. With a sigh, she put all of her ingredients back and began examining them carefully before taking them back to her workspace. Professor Tofty raised an eyebrow and gave her an approving nod, but said nothing as she got to work.

Hermione doubted that he would have let her get so far as to start brewing with the ingredients she had picked out. She probably would have failed the exam right then and there if she had not followed her war-honed, alert instincts and intuition, and the thought made her shudder. Relieved that she had gotten over one hurdle, she then prepared to start brewing all three potions simultaneously.

It was incredibly difficult. The Wolfsbane was incredibly volatile, and required constant attention, forcing Hermione to juggle the Draught of Living Death and Essence of Despair around it. It was exhausting work, and more than once, Hermione was forced to use a charm to keep one potion stirring while she worked on another. It was very draining.

When she'd finally bottled her results, three hours later, her hair had become frizzy from the fumes and had been tied back in a hasty ponytail. Sweat was pouring off her neck, and she looked a mess.

Professor Tofty smiled at her as he accepted her finished work, but all he said was, "Congratulations, Miss Granger. You may go."

With a tired nod, Hermione stumbled off in search of her rooms.

She needed another hot bath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 15

November Arrests

Hermione would be forever thankful that she had caught Snape and Professor Tofty discussing the exam right before she started. If she hadn't, she would not have noticed Snape's irritation, and would have most likely failed the exam.

She shuddered with repulsion. She imagined getting a 'T' for her Potions NEWT. The thought made her want to vomit. It was too vile to even consider.

No. She would push that to the back of her mind. And never bring it up again.

Hermione went to bed early, after ordering soup from the kitchen, and didn't wake up until well into Monday afternoon. She slept in late, grateful for the good night's sleep, and when she finally woke up, it was because Crookshanks was sitting on her head.

"Geroff me," she mumbled, pushing Crookshanks off. The half-kneazle merely stared down at her and meowed, as if to say, "Aren't you going to feed me?"

"That's right," Hermione mumbled, sitting up and reaching for her wand. "I'm so sorry, Crooks, I forgot to get you breakfast- accio catfood! There," Hermione said, as Crookshank's food bowl filled itself up. Satisfied, Hermione curled up and went back to sleep.

She was again woken up, this time at six o'clock in the afternoon, by an insistent pounding on her door. An irritated Arsenius Jigger popped into the portrait of Alexander the Great atop Bucephalas, to deliver the following message: Draco Malfoy was there to see her.

"Let him in," Hermione mumbled, sitting up and pulling on a robe. Draco entered a moment later.

Hermione could tell instantly by the look on his face that something was wrong. "Draco? What-"

"Father's been arrested and sent to Azkaban," Draco said tonelessly. "I just found out at dinner."

"Arrested?" Hermione repeated, bewildered. "But they can't do that- he can't be sent to Azkaban without trial!"

"Well, he has been," Draco reiterated. He looked down at the floor. "They arrested him on charges of being a Death Eater."

"But that makes it sound like they've already decided-" Hermione broke off at the realization of her words.

Draco looked up at her despairingly.

The next morning, Draco was a wreck. Hermione went with him down to breakfast, despite the fact that she did not have classes. It was just as she took her seat next to Harry and Ron that an owl bearing a letter flew into the Great Hall and landed at her place. She pulled the letter free and slit it open with her fingernail. Pulling the letter out, she began reading it in earnest- and then froze.

She must've sat there frozen for too long, because Ron finally tapped her shoulder to get her attention. "Er- 'Mione? What's wrong?"

"'Outstanding,'" Hermione whispered. "I got all 'Outstandings' on my NEWTs." She suddenly smiled widely, appearing ecstatic with glee. "I got all 'Outstandings' on my NEWTs!" she repeated, waving the letter in front of her face excitedly. "I can't believe it! I got perfect- or near perfect- on all my exams!"

"Congratulations," Harry said. "We knew you'd do it."

"What's up with Malfoy this morning?" Ron asked, pointing at the blond sitting, shoulders slumped, at his seat.

"His father was arrested last night," Hermione said at once, fighting to keep the anger out of her voice, "on Death Eater charges."

Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief, his mouth hanging open, half-masticated food hanging out of the corner.

"No way," he said.

"Close your mouth, Ron," Hermione told him.

The Great Hall suddenly went silent. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up in confusion, and saw two figures standing at the doorway, both wearing Auror robes. Their wands were drawn, jaws set, and eyes set predatorily on the teachers sitting at the High Table.

"Oh no…" Hermione whispered, leaning to the side for a better look. The two Aurors strode up toward the High Table; the students remained eerily silent, their eyes watching the intruders. "Please tell me they're not here for the reason I think they are."

Harry could not speak. His fists were balled up in barely concealed rage. Hermione gently placed her hands over his, whispering frantically;

"We can't do anything about it now, Harry," Hermione told him, panic rising. "Our best bet is to wait until the trial. If you make a scene now, Scrimgeour might do something to undermine your testimony- he'll have time to prepare for it. Don't do it, Harry," she pleaded.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry replied softly, his eyes still locked onto the two Aurors, wrapping her hand in his. "I won't. You're right. All we can do is watch…" he said bitterly.

The Aurors were now arguing with Dumbledore. Snape was sitting in his usual spot at the end of the table, watching the Aurors warily, the way a cornered animal might watch its attackers. Minerva's face was steadily turning redder, and she finally lost her temper and said something to the Aurors that caused them to take a step back. Dumbledore added something to her statements, and the Auror's hard, proudly-set expressions faltered. They began stuttering, and it seemed that they were apologizing, yet protesting that they were only following orders. A few more words were exchanged, then Dumbledore reluctantly sat back, resigned, and Minerva had a look of quiet fury on her face.

Snape took one last bite of toast, and stood up, looking resigned. Hermione was horribly reminded of a condemned prisoner on death row being sent to the gallows. The Aurors ordered him to step to the side, where they cast revealing spells for hidden weapons. Finding none, they confiscated his wand, and cuffed his left arm with a metal bracelet that was presumably supposed to restrain his magic. The whole thing was done silently and without a word on Snape's part, and then the Auror's escorted him out, casting an almost triumphant glare over their shoulders at Dumbledore.

They cast an acknowledging smile at Harry, as though expecting accolades for achieving some great deed on his behalf. Harry only nodded stonily at them, and focused on his food and Hermione's hand gripping his tightly.

The moment the Aurors left the hall, pandemonium broke out. Hermione, Draco, and the other prefects stood up to try and help the teachers calm the students, who were rather alarmed that one of their teachers had just been lead away by a pair of Aurors like a common criminal.

"He didn't deserve that," Hermione heard Ernie Macmillian telling Hannah Abbot, the other Hufflepuff Prefect furiously, as they attempted to calm the students. There were moues of agreement on this from many students, even those who hated Snape as a person, but admired him for his sacrifices in regards to the war.

"No one would have deserved that," Hannah replied coldly, as she cast a silencing charm.

Hermione silently agreed.

Harry looked as though he was going to be ill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 16

Azkaban Haze

Severus sat curled up in the corner of his cell, staring moodily at the opposite wall. He'd been publicly humiliated by his very dramatically-made arrest by the two pompous Aurors, forced to strip off all his clothing, put on a set of threadbare, greying prison robes, and still wore the Restrainer on his wrist that prevented him from using wandless magic. The Restrainer was perhaps the worst thing that had happened to him when he first entered his cell. Once they'd shoved him into his cell, several wards had activated, and Severus had ended up writhing on the floor as the cuff not only restrained his magic, but drained it from his body as well; the sensation had made him ill, and for the first twenty-four hours, he could be found lying on the floor of his cell, sweaty and sick, as he struggled to adjust.

To be honest, he'd half expected this to happen. After he'd discovered Lucius's arrest last night, he figured it was only a matter of time. He'd told Dumbledore, who suggested that if they did indeed come for him, there was really nothing he could do— he could try, but had no real authority over the Aurors— and said the best thing he could do was to go quietly. Severus privately agreed, for he knew if he ran, secluded himself in his office, or put up a fight, it would count against him for his trial.

It was best to hold his head high, while he could.

The Dementors were gone from Azkaban, but it was still a dreary, depressing place. The cell was small, just about twelve feet squared, and dark and damp. There was very little light, as the entire thing was boarded up with stone except for the tiny, barred window set in the heavy metal door. Severus felt like a caged animal, and rather than pace and waste energy on it, he chose to sit quietly and wait. He would be stuck in this hellhole for the next two and a half weeks.

He knew Lucius shared a cell just next to his, but he could neither see nor hear him. He could hear the guards as they passed, he heard them stop by his cell occasionally to jeer at him, and one guard even had the nerve to throw a stone through the bars of the window at him. It missed, but the implication was enough.

The water was stale, and the only food they had was some sort of disgusting slew of meats and fruits and vegetables thrown together. It was barely palatable. His hair became greasier than usual from being unable to shower, and he became both thinner and paler. His normally sallow skin and gaunt face became accentuated from his neglectful state, giving him the appearance of a bony, skeletal man with nothing but a mop of greasy black hair and black eyes that still stared out from pitiless depths. He often heard the guards remark about how creepy his silence was— he had barely said a word since he arrived. They taunted him, to no response. It had become a sport among them to try to garner a reaction out of him, to end the frightening silence he had sunk into, but to no avail.

The place wasn't unbearable, however. He was able to retreat into the recess of his mind, imagine that he was back in his office, reading the latest edition of Potions Monthly and sitting in front of the fire with a strong cup of tea, having just finished grading the absymal papers of his third-year students.

The only thing that stopped him from truly believing he was there was the hunger and pain gnawing at his belly, and the whispers which never ceased to permeate his cell. He heard the other prisoners, their cries, moans, and whimpers haunting him both when he was awake and asleep. They haunted him, torturing him, and he was sure that they would drive him insane before his time here ran out.

After about three days— at least, he thought it was three days, although he could not be sure— the horrible stew was replaced with warm rolls and milk. Snape only had to sniff them to know that they were laced with potions- many identifiable, some not by name, but none of them were meant to kill him. After another three days of refusing the laced food, his hunger and pain finally won over, and he ate it, bitterly cursing himself for giving in. But he was hungry and weak, and the food smelled too good for even Severus Snape to resist.

Even as he ate the food, he immediately regretted it. The slew of potions contained within it caused him to become sluggish. His senses dimmed, depression set in, and he began feeling as though he were living out his days barely conscious, barely aware of his surroundings. The sedatives, depressants, and uninhibitants caused him to feel as though he were merely floating in a painful other-worldy space. Even as he sat across the cot provided in the room, severely weakened, dizzy, and ill, in his mind, the potions seemed to give him some sort of release from the harsh reality of his situation.

He was sure nearly week had passed by the time he first realized what was truly happening. He began to feel trapped in his own mind, like a caged panther, where he paced restlessly, but could do nothing. His conciousness became separated from his body, and he was forced to watch almost detachedly from the prison of his mind as he succumbed to the slow destruction of his defenses. He became vulnerable, sprawled out on the cot, in a state of constant pain, dizziness, and detachment. Thus, when someone finally entered his miserable cell, he was only able to gaze at them through cloudy, glazed-over eyes as they felt for a pulse, shone wandlight in his eyes, tested his breathing rate, and poked and prodded him to see his response.

"It looks like it's worked, but I'd up the dose," was all he heard said through fuzzy hearing. "Give him an extra vial of Calming Draught."

He distantly felt like they were preparing him, like an animal being brought to slaughter.

He just couldn't figure out why, in his drugged state, they would need to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 17

December Release

Harry handed Hermione the Daily Prophet with disgust.

"Here," was all he said. Hermione took the paper and scanned it through. It was a reporting of the arrests of both Malfoy and Snape, two "high-profile Death Eaters from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's inner circle," who were in Azkaban awaiting trial.

The disturbing, part, however, was the mention of new methods of preparing prisoners for trials, as to make them more "compliant and easier to extract information from."

"What does that mean, Harry?" Hermione asked, fearing the implications. Harry could only shake his head, finish up breakfast, and then stalk off with Ron for class. A week and a half had passed since Snape's arrest, and the Trio feared for his safety. Not that they cared about him as a person, but because they felt they owed it to him, after he had done so much for them.

Harry called it 'Saving-Your-Neck' Syndrome.

As Professor Tofty had predicted, Hermione had received many letters offering high-end positions in the Ministry and apprenticeships, internships, or training in Ministry departments. She turned them all down disgustedly. She got a letter from the wizened old professor a week after she had rejected the last offer, congratulating her on sending the Ministry into an uproar over her refusal. Many of the departments were insulted. Hermione could not help but be pleased, and thanked Professor Tofty for the news.

The weekend of Lucius Malfoy's trial arrived, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and a few other students arranged for a trip to the Ministry, chaperoned by McGonagall and Dumbledore, who had also been summoned to the hearing.

"You are to behave yourselves while court is in session," McGonagall told them all sternly, but they knew that she knew they needn't be told. She only said it for propriety's sake. They shuffled into the Courtroom, walked to their assigned seats in the Witness Bench, and waited for the hearing to begin. Draco sat between Hermione and Ginny, who both kept their hands tightly clasped around his. Draco was shaking. McGonagall looked at him almost pityingly as the Wizengamot finally entered and took their seats. Scrimgeour arrived last, and made an attempt at small talk with Harry, but at Dumbledore's clearing of his throat, cut it short and walked to his seat to begin.

"Bring in the defendant," he said.

Hermione tightened her grip on Draco as the door opened and Lucius Malfoy entered. The man was lead in, supported by the guards on either side. He was helped into his chair, where he sat limply, staring at the floor sightlessly. He looked like a marionette with all his strings cut. He looked awful; dark circles were prominent under his eyes, his hair was lanky and no longer carried the silky sheen one usually saw. His grey eyes were cloudy and misted over, as though he were Imperiused. He was like a broken, lifeless doll.

"We are here today to bring charges against Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," Scrimgeour continued, "will the defendant state his full name for the court?"

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," Lucius repeated tonelessly. He didn't even look up.

"What have they done to him?" Hermione whispered.

"You stand charged with the following: Death Eater activity, terrorism, crimes against humanity, and the use of Unforgivables— all in the name of carrying out your role as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix." Scrimgeour looked down at Lucius distastefully. "What was your role in the war?"

"I was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix."

"Were your actions as a Death Eater perpetuated by the need to keep your role as a spy intact?"

"Yes."

Scrimgeour boredly flipped through the papers he was apparently using for reference.

"Do you deny being a Death Eater?"

"No." Lucius's answers were short and to the point, and delivered emotionlessly, as though they carried no weight.

"Do you have anyone who can vouch for you?"

"Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter," Lucius listed, his head lolling to the side. "Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, my wife… my wife…" he trailed off. "Bill and Fleur Weasley…"

Scrimgeour was beginning to look vaguely frustrated. "That's enough. Does anyone have anything to say in his defense?"

Albus, Harry, Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, and Draco all stood up simultaneously. Their testimonies for Malfoy were delivered— yes, he was a spy for the Order. Much of what he did was done in the interest of keeping his cover intact. Yes, he was prejudiced against Muggles and Muggle-borns, but he worked with them in the interest of the greater good— that was, helping bring down the Dark Lord. There was one flaw in their words, however, and Scrimgeour grabbed at it.

"However, it would appear to me that in Ginevra Weasley's second year—" he glanced meaningfully at Arthur, "she was given a cursed diary— one that held part of You-Know-Who's soul in it— from Lucius Malfoy."

"I have not brought charges against him," Arthur said.

"But that was not done in the interest of keeping his cover intact," Scrimgeour said pleasantly. "Do you wish to now?"

The entire room held its breath. Draco was shaking so badly, that both Ginny and Hermione had to lean against him to steady him. Lucius Malfoy simply stared ahead sightlessly.

"No." Arthur's words were firm. Everyone in the witness stand let out a sigh of relief.

Scrimgeour looked furious. He turned to the members of the Wizengamot, and called for a vote.

Hermione started counting the hands raised silently. Half… more than half of the room… was calling for Lucius Malfoy's acquittal.

Harry rather thought Scrimgeour looked much as Fudge had done on the day of his hearing: furious, but helpless.

"Very well," Scrimgeour bit out. "Cleared of all charges. Dawlish, go bring in the antidotes for Malfoy."

Hermione used this opportunity to stand up. "What did you give him?" she demanded.

Scrimgeour looked at her condescendingly. "Calming Drought, Essence of Despair, Veritaserum, Compliance Potion, and several inhibition-lowering drafts," he told her.

"You had no right!" Hermione words were heard by the whole room. "Arresting innocent men, sending them to Azkaban, drugging them into a state of near-incoherence?" Bitterly, and with building rage, she added, "You come in here charging him with crimes against humanity and commit acts against humanity yourself!"

A few members of the Wizengamot shifted uneasily in their seats, while another few nodded and shot dirty glances at Scrimgeour— his decision to drug the men post-arrest had apparently been met with some resistance. Rita Skeeter sat in her corner, her Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously.

Hermione continued, "Given that you have shown your judgement in the matter to be impaired, I demand that Severus Snape be released. He's a war hero, not a criminal, and you have no right to hold him prisoner."

"Severus Snape is perfectly fine, and awaits his trial next week," Scrimgeour told her sourly. "As for you, young lady—"

"I doubt he's fine, if he's in the same doped-up state Mr. Malfoy was in," Hermione spat at him.

"I agree with the girl," Hermione heard a familiar voice speak up. She whipped around and saw Professor Tofty, in navy blue robes of the court. The old man caught Albus's eye and the two exchanged glances before he continued; "You had a teacher arrested in front of all his students, thrown into prison, degraded, and then drugged. This is hardly what we expect of our Minister— especially to revered war heroes."

Scrimgeour was slowly turning red, but said nothing. Madam Marchbanks, who had been newly reinstated, also spoke up;

"You should release him now, Minister— or he could bring charges against you for your actions against him and Mr. Malfoy here," she said, gesturing at Lucius. Dawlish was tipping back a vial of translucent green potion down the man's throat. Draco, abandoning all pretense of propriety, squeezed around Hermione, jumped down from the bench, and ran towards his father. "I would not be surprised if Malfoy here decides to. What you've done is a crime in itself, incapacitating him so."

"You had no such objections when I first proposed the legislation," Scrimgeour told her primly.

"Oh I did, Minister, but you ignored me," Madam Marchbanks told him starchly.

Scrimgeour turned around and looked at the faces surrounding him, staring at him disprovingly.

"Very well," he snapped, trying to regain some sense of control. "Dawlish, Shacklebolt— please escort Miss Granger to Azkaban to retrieve Mr. Snape. The rest of you, leave."

Harry hugged Hermione. "Good job," he whispered, before jumping down from the bench and going over to Draco, to help support a still unsteady and rather dazed Lucius.

Hermione could only follow suit and jump down from the bench to accompany Dawlish and Shacklebolt, not quite believing where her outburst had gotten her.

On her way out, she exchanged nods with Professor Tofty. The man offered her a small smile.

"Well done, Miss Granger," he murmured as she passed.

Perhaps being a revered war hero had its uses.

"Well done, Miss Granger," Kingsley told her, as he and Dawlish both grasped her by the arm and Apparated her to the outside walls of Azkaban. He gestured towards the boat. "In here. With the Dementors gone, we don't need Patronuses out, but it's still a dreary place…"

"I'm not surprised," Hermione answered shortly. She bit her lower lip. "How did this happen? Why was he allowed to do this—?"

"If you remember Barty Crouch," Kingsley told her quietly, as he cast a spell on the boat to send it moving, "You'll remember that after You-Know-Who fell the first time, people were desperate to be rid of all traces of his dark rule… no matter the cost…"

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat.

She had no idea what condition she would find her professor in.

~o~O~o~

Severus was dimly aware of his cell door opening. He opened his eyes, his vision fuzzy and blurred. He saw someone enter, with two figures waiting at the door. He moaned in pain.

No more… he tried to beg, plead for mercy, anything to stop them from drugging him further, but his swollen tongue did him no good. Please…

"Professor," the figure closest to him said. It was somewhere between an address and a gasp of shock. "Professor, it's me- Hermione Granger…" then his hearing failed him, and his eyes closed. Surely if he was seeing Miss Granger here, he had finally started hallucinating. He felt someone touching him— testing his pulse, his heartbeat. His eyelid was pulled back and examined, and she tapped his shoulder several times, as though that would make him sit up and revert back to Professor Snape mode. It would have, had he not been drugged out of his mind. He heard her say something her companion, the darker-skinned man whose name eluded Severus at the moment. Kingler? Kingsley? Something like that.

"Professor, can you hear me?" Hermione demanded, pressing her fingers to his arms, feeling for bruising or signs of injury. She could see he was thin— horribly thin— much thinner than she ever remembered him being. He was gaunt and paler than ever, sickly looking even, but he seemed to be alright otherwise— though there was some bruising on his jaw, as though someone had slugged him there in an attempt to force a response out of him. But it seemed that if there was any true damage, it was all inside his head, unfortunately.

The Veritaserum kicked in and Severus was forced to answer, in the same emotionless voice Malfoy had used. "Yes."

"We're taking you back to Hogwarts," Hermione told him, relieved that he'd responded. "We need to move you out of Azkaban before we can Apparate. Can you tell us if you'd prefer us to carry you or levitate you?"

"No." Severus's word was caught between a moan of pain and a plea, while somehow remaining emotionless. It was like listening to a wounded or injured animal whimper. He closed his eyes. "Just get me out of here."

"Conjure up a stretcher for him," Kingsley ordered, taking hold of Severus's arms and rearranging him so that he lay flat on his back rather than curled up on his side. "I'll levitate him onto it. We'll carry him out that way— it's safer."

Hermione did as she was bid, and a few minutes later, they were walking along the corridors of cells, alongside the stretcher and the motionless figure on it. Hermione tried to get another response out of him, but Severus, who had already been flitting in and out of consciousness, had withdrawn once again to the recess of his mind. He didn't respond, and it was all Hermione could do to not march back to the Ministry and strangle Scrimgeour.

Oh yes. Strangle him and chuck him in Azkaban. 'Perfectly fine and awaiting trial' her ass!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 18

December Revelations

Draco was excused from school for the first and second week of December to stay at home with his parents, to help his mother care for Lucius. His father had been heavily drugged with a slew of potions— Hermione had promised to get a full list of what had been used— and although the worst of the effects were starting to wear off as the toxins were washed from his system through the application of detoxifying potions, he was still in a dazed and disoriented state. Narcissa was extremely relieved to have her husband back, and wrote a letter to Arthur Weasley thanking him for his forgiveness— and inviting him over for tea, along with Molly, when Lucius was feeling better. The Weasleys amiably agreed to this request.

Lucius became coherent enough after his first week back home to carry on an extended discussion with his son, who had taken to sitting in a comfy armchair by the bed with a book.

"I'm glad you weren't here when they came for me," Lucius told him, sitting up in bed one afternoon, fingering his wand. "I hexed the both of them."

"You shouldn't have done that, father," Draco said, smiling with amusement.

"No, I shouldn't have," Lucius agreed. "Your mother was in a right state. Perhaps that's why they drugged me."

"They drugged you because mother got in a snit over your arrest?" Draco raised an eyebrow at this. His father must still be high on the potions, for him to come to such a ridiculous conclusion.

"No, because I hexed them," Lucius replied, as though it were obvious.

Draco relaxed. Yes, that made more sense. However… "I doubt that, father. When they arrested Severus, he went quietly. From what Hermione's told of me, he was in a worse state than you were when they found him. They drugged him more heavily than you."

"He went quietly? Why am I not surprised?" Lucius mused.

"Why aren't you surprised?"

"He would've thought it through before they came for him," Lucius said confidently, still fingering his precious wand. The sensation of losing his wand had been akin to losing a limb. The joy of having it back still overwhelmed him. "He would have known that resisting would count against him, much more than it would for me."

"He did appear rather resigned, when I saw them take him away," Draco admitted.

"How is he now?" Lucius inquired.

"As far as I know, he still hasn't recovered to the extent you have yet," Draco told him. "I think they gave him heavier dosages than they did you, because he's a Potions Master— they expected him to have some built up resistance. Hermione told me, and I quote, that 'the idiots had no in-depth knowledge about the combination of potions they were using on him, and, as a result, the buggering prats overdosed him,' or something to that effect."

"Did they not give him the antidotes?"

"They were largely ineffective," Draco admitted. "Hermione believes they've used other potions that they haven't told us. Either that, or…" he trailed off.

"Or what?" Lucius demanded.

"It's possible that they didn't give him the antidote for the Substantia Despero within forty-eight hours, and it broke his mind," Draco said heavily. "They apparently kept giving it to you on and off, but Hermione suspects they kept him on a solid dose for at least a week."

Lucius stared at Draco in disbelief.

"Severus would have gone mad by then if that had been the case," he said carefully. "Didn't you learn about Substantia Despero earlier this year?"

"Back in early October," Draco agreed. "But we know that Severus is a very good Occlumens. It's possible that he managed to disconnect himself mentally from his surroundings before the potion could get a grip on him- at least, that's what Hermione and Professor Dumbledore have speculated." He moistened his cracked lips with his tongue before continuing, "At least, that's what we're hoping. Otherwise, Severus will probably end up in St. Mungo's."

The silence in the room that received this statement was palpable.

"You mentioned the Mud— Muggle-born girl several times," Lucius said conversationally, breaking the silence. "Hermione, was it?"

"Hermione Granger," Draco confirmed.

Lucius nodded pensively.

"Do you like her?" There was hidden accusation in the voice.

"As nothing more than a friend," Draco assured was true. He liked Hermione, respected her, and had a higher tolerance for Muggle-borns now, but he still had difficulty getting over the prejudice he had been led to believe for the past eighteen years of his life. It was too deeply ingrained in him to feel repulsion towards Muggle-borns that, despite his efforts to overcome it, it would still take him years to fully shed that school of thought. He found Hermione to be an attractive girl, but she was not his type, and her heritage prevented him from seeing her in any sort of romantic light.

"But you have great respect for her," Lucius murmured.

"I certainly do," Draco agreed blandly. "Despite the fact that she's spent the last seven years outperforming me in every class and is a Muggle-born, I hold her in very high regard. Much in the same way I respect Professor McGonagall."

Lucius relaxed. "Alright, then," he said rather amiably. He carefully set his wand aside. "What is she doing now?"

Draco reached into the pocket of his robes to retrieve a letter. "'Dear Draco,'" he read. "'I hope you're doing well. It's been a week— perhaps your father is somewhat coherent again. I at least hope he's stopped babbling about what you were like as a child— that was embarassing enough for you—'"

"You have not yet told me what I was like while I was drugged." Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"With good reason, Father," Draco said, smirking, "but let me finish the letter first."

Lucius nodded his acquiesce, and Draco went on. "'—I really had no idea that you used to go fly on your broom to paint graffiti on the windows of the East Wing. You must have been a very bored seven-year-old, I imagine. Nevertheless, I will not bring up the topic again, and I have better things to discuss with you. My apprenticeship with McGonagall is progressing nicely. I've been cross-referencing Sloan Bucker's theorem concerning Transfiguration of Potions while retaining their properties. It has a few flaws, but nothing I can't handle.'

"'In other news, I've been assisting Madam Pomfrey with looking after Professor Snape. She has students to attend to, and feels it would not bode well to keep him in the Hospital Wing. She mentioned something about 'past incidents' and 'jumping up and hexing students who would later have to be obliviated.' I don't really want to know,'" Draco read.

"Well, that's a first— something the know-it-all doesn't want to know. Anyways…" he turned the letter over, where it continued on the back. "'And since Professor McGonagall has classes to teach— the first half of my apprenticeship mostly involves studying— it seemed reasonable that since I was no longer a student, I could keep an eye on Professor Snape and floo Madam Pomfrey if he should need anything.

"'He's woken up several times, but I don't think he's very aware of his surroundings. He keeps calling out for people by name, including you. I think it would do him good if you were to visit him. He doesn't seem to believe that it's all real, that he's no longer in Azkaban. I'm pretty confident that, judging from what Harry can see of what he calls 'broken memories', they gave him a constant string of Substantia Despero— Essence of Despair— and no antidote, among other things. It's a wonder that he's not curled up in the corner, screaming. That's what usually happens to victims.'"

Lucius frowned. "Broken memories?"

"I don't think his thoughts are organized or coherent or even in some sort of chronological order right now," Draco explained. "They look broken and messed up, according to Potter. Incomplete, even."

Lucius said nothing, but Draco could see the quiet rage simmering in the grey eyes. He continued reading the letter. "'Nevertheless, he's improving. I'm hopeful that the overdose will wear off by the end of the week, the detoxifying potions will have some effect, and we'll have our Potions professor back. He survived Nagini's bite; he'll get through this, too. On the other hand, I'm secretly plotting the Minister's untimely demise.'" Draco snickered at this last bit. "'Harry's calling for the Minister's removal. Shacklebolt is a prime candidate to take up the post in Scrimgeour's place. A lot of people are listening to Harry, and I think Minister's received three Howlers this week alone. He doesn't seem to be very popular anymore.'"

"'Regardless, I hope you and your parents are both well. Send them my regards, however ill-received they might be,'" the letter concluded, "'and I'll see you next week. Warmest regards, Hermione.'" He folded up the letter and handed it to his father.

"That's all."

Lucius took the letter and opened it passively to examine it for himself. "She has an apprenticeship with Professor McGonagall?"

"Dumbledore's retiring in five years or so, remember?" Draco said. "Professor McGonagall will be Headmistress. Hermione will be filling in the Transfiguration post."

Lucius nodded agreeably. "She seems to be an appropriate candidate," was all he said.

"Indeed," Draco said, cracking a smile. He pulled out his wand and summoned a chess set. "Do you want to play a round to pass the time?"

Lucius smiled almost coldly. "I may be somewhat incapacitated, but you still won't beat me."

Draco shrugged, but his smirk belied his confidence. "We shall see, father. Now, black or white?"

~o~O~o~

Hermione sat in a cozy armchair in front of the fire in Snape's quarters, reading the Transfiguration text McGonagall had assigned her. She'd been tempted to go through some of her Professor's books, but balked at the idea of invading his privacy. She respected him too much to go through his things without his permission.

Besides, if he found out, he would almost certainly hex her.

He'd been hanging in the balance between conciousness and sleep for the past few days, waking up long enough for Hermione to get some detoxifying-laced broth down his throat (his body was too weak for solids at the moment) and to check his vitals. Madam Pomfrey had emphasized the importance of checking his vitals every few hours. They were strong, but there was no telling what the potions would do to him in the long run.

Snape was still largely incoherent. When his eyes opened, his gaze was misted over, much as Malfoy's had been, giving him the impression of being imperiused. Hermione repeatedly assured him that he was in his quarters and perfectly safe; Snape seemed to so badly want to believe it, but he didn't. Sometimes, he didn't seem to believe that she was actually there. Other times, he would start mumbling about things that happened, repeating names as though that would bring those people back to him. Hermione learned a lot just by sitting there and listening to him. He went on a tangent about his childhood, sometimes believing he was back there at Spinner's End, curled up in the corner trying to push the sight of his parents fighting out of his mind. He often whimpered at times like these, and Hermione suspected that his parents had done more than just argue. He spoke much about Lily, Harry's mother. He cursed James Potter and Sirius Black, threatened to kill Wormtail for betraying the Potters, and relentlessly spoke of his contempt for Harry and hate for the Dark Lord.

This was the part that always surprised her, when his tangent would drift off, switching from Harry to Voldemort. His words were incoherent, but his meaning was clear, and all Hermione could do was bite her tongue and listen to him. She suspected the Veritaserum he'd been given had something to do with his rambling, but the antidote for it barely made a dent on his condition. She suspected he'd been given much more than a few drops- more like a mouthful, if the antidote wasn't working.

He spoke of Draco, too. He talked about the blond Slytherin's childhood, fondly, in a manner that surprised Hermione. He spoke of Lucius as a close friend. Hermione felt as though her presence there was an intrusion- Snape was spilling his life story to the room, unable to stop himself, and all of his secrets were there for the taking if she only asked. But she never did ask- that would be taking advantage of him, a thought which repulsed her. She swore a silent oath to herself that she would never repeat anything she'd learned in there to anyone else, which made her feel a bit better about herself, but she knew she would still have to contend with the repercussions when Snape was finally himself again.

It surprised her when Snape spoke of the Golden Trio as a whole. He berated Harry's rashness and stupidity while grudgingly admiring his bravery in the face of unbeatable odds, muttering about his father's skills at Quidditch. He often called Ron an idiot strategist, someone who, if they only applied themselves, might actually get somewhere- later, though, when he'd started refering to the post-war Ron rather than the first-year, he seemed to get him confused with Arthur. He called Hermione an insufferable know-it-all at first, and lamented that she didn't step back and give the other students a chance to answer questions in class, but later, refered to post-war Hermione as still being a know-it-all, but not so unsufferable, much more tolerable, and someone he could admittedly see to being an equal when she took over the Transfiguration post. He already saw her as practically a colleague.

This last part made Hermione glow with pride, but she knew she would never be able to bring it up with him. She wasn't supposed to know.

It was painful at times to watch him, but, as the days went by, he steadily improved- his rants became shorter, he seemed a bit more aware of her presence, and his nightmares were fewer. Gradually, he became quieter, which was a good sign, because Severus Snape was a quiet man by nature.

Hermione owled Draco of the improvements he was making, heartened by the fact that it seemed he would recover fully soon. She also spoke to Harry and Ron, both of whom were comparatively relieved to hear about it.

And thanks to Harry's insistence, two weeks after Lucius's trial, the Minister of Magic stepped down to be replaced by Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Unfortunately, nothing Shacklebolt could do would sway the Wizengamot on the subject of continuing Snape's trial, claiming that it was still an issue to be resolved. Hermione, of course, was furious. But revered war hero or no, there was very little she could do about it. She'd been lucky to get away with demanding Snape's release, and having the date for the trial pushed back.

In her humble opinion, the Ministry was built on the shoulders of idiots.

And she was sure that, were Snape in any condition to do so, he would agree.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 19

December Awakening

Severus slowly opened his eyes. The room was still fuzzy and spinning slightly, but after two weeks of waking up here, he was fairly certain that it was real, as Miss Granger had been telling him. If what Miss Granger said was true, and he was in his quarters, that meant that Miss Granger was also real. He tried to sit up, but his body protested with an explosion of pain. He fell back onto the sheets, panting.

"Oh! Professor," he heard someone say to his left, but he couldn't turn his neck around properly- it was too stiff and sore. "You're awake!"

"Miss Granger," Severus said slowly. "Where am I?"

"In your quarters, Sir. I've been telling you that for the past two weeks." He saw her move to the other side of his bed, out of the corner of his eyes. A hand came into view. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two fingers, and a digit," Severus replied coldly. "Now help me sit up."

Hermione reached over and grabbed his shoulders, helping him as he attempted to sit up again. He winced at the pain, but found it much more manageable with her hands supporting him. She grabbed a pillow and propped it up against the wall, and he leaned back on it. Much better.

"Alright," he said, shifting into a more comfortable position. Shoot, his muscles were wound so tightly that the smallest movements sent pain shooting up his back, shoulders, and neck. "Considering I don't have the energy right now to order you to leave, I'm going to give you a chance to explain."

Hermione smiled faintly. "You were arrested and sent to Azkaban."

"Yes, I remember that much," he snapped at her. "Go on."

"They drugged you, and although we haven't gotten hold of the entire list yet," Hermione said, "we know most of the potions they gave you. They were mostly inhibition-lowerers, truth serums, depressants, and sedatives. Stuff to keep you suggestive and compliant. You were a wreck when we found you."

Snape glowered at her. "And how long have I been here?"

"Two weeks, Sir. I keep telling you this."

He scowled. "And did I… say anything? While I was delirious?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "You ranted. I don't think the Veritaserum did any good for keeping you from discussing sensitive topics. It's a good thing Voldemort's already dead, or he would've heard you declaring your hate for him while still half asleep."

Snape glared at her. "And who heard?"

"Just me," Hermione assured him, "Albus and Poppy were here a few times, but they heard very little."

"You will not tell anyone what you heard- or saw," he growled at her.

"You don't have to tell me that," Hermione told him calmly, forcing herself not to go on the defensive. It was natural that he was angry. And in true Snape fashion, he was taking it out on her. "I already swore an Oath to myself that anything that happened here would stay here. I wasn't planning on running off to go report to Harry that you spent a good thirty minutes ranting about just how much you hate his father."

Snape relaxed minutely. "Thank you."

"I shouldn't have heard any of it, since most of what you were muttering about was private," Hermione told him straight off, "but if I wanted to be of help, I had to actually be in the same room. So I'm sorry if you feel I somehow invaded your privacy, but I won't bring anything I you said up with you unless you do first, and I won't go around gossiping about you."

Snape nodded, feeling a bit better about the situation now. Granger was trustworthy, and if she said she wasn't going to go around spilling his secrets, he knew she wouldn't.

"How much did you hear?" he asked.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "Everything from your childhood to after Voldemort fell. You mentioned a lot of people, called out for them at times, acted as though you were talking to them…"

He sighed, and glared at her almost resentfully. "What did you do to remove the potions from my system?"

"Detoxifying potion in your soup," Hermione told him. "I gave you a lot of water when you would drink it;crackers, too, when you seemed to be able to stomach them." She stood up. "And now I need to let Madam Pomfrey know you're awake and sane again. I assume you'd like me to give you the list of potions the idiots at the Ministry gave you when I finally get ahold of it?"

Snape hesitated, but then nodded. Hermione walked over to the fire, got some Floo power, and called for Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch was very pleased to hear that Snape was awake, and told Hermione that she was free to leave. Hermione bade the two goodbye and headed back to her rooms.

"The next staff meeting is tomorrow evening," Minerva told Hermione. "You are expected to be there at one. Please be sure that you don't lose track of time in the Library."

"I won't," Hermione assured her. "Will Professor Snape be there?"

"I imagine so," Minerva said, smiling thinly. "He's well enough to walk and snap at anyone who tries to help him, flooing to the Staff Room should hardly be a problem."

And so it was that when Hermione arrived for the staff meeting, Snape was indeed there. He sat on one of the straight-backed cozy armchairs near the fire, gazing at the flames. Hermione had the impression of a sleeping dragon- the man could jump up any moment and start hexing; he looked that tightly wound up, like a coiled spring. There were no extra chairs available when Hermione arrived, so she took a seat in front of the fire, summoning a cushion for herself.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he greeted sullenly. He looked much better than when she had last saw him- he was still thin, his eyes still having a slightly hazy look to them, but his hair was no longer thick with grease and he had cleaned up.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione returned.

Snape snorted. "I'm hardly your professor anymore, Miss Granger. You may refer to me by my given name, same as you do all your other former teachers."

Hermione smiled at him. "As long as you call me Hermione. I don't think it would sound right for you to keep on calling me 'Miss Granger', in that case."

Severus inclined his head in acknowlegement. The two of them sat quietly, enjoying the warmth of the fire, as the other teachers filed in. They all acknowledged Hermione with a friendly nod or a wave, and then conjured up a chair for themselves. At one-fifteen, the meeting started, and began with Hermione's introduction to the staff as their new colleague and teacher-in-training.

They discussed curriculum changes. Professor Sprout wanted to make Greenhouse Nine- which had largely been abandoned, due to weather damage and neglect by the last Herbology teacher- into a spare nursery for NEWT students wishing to do independent research. Hermione had a feeling she was asking on Neville's behalf. Professor Trelawney, bug-eyed as always, after informing Professor Snape that she had forseen his difficulties with the law, (Minerva's nostril flared dangerously at this, and Snape scowled at her with a look that would have sent any reasonable person running) wished to offer her classes to first and second years. Her suggestion was summarily refused.

Professor Sprout then brought up the concern that, in the week Severus had been absent (that had been a very delicate way of putting it, in Hermione's opinion) three of his Slytherins had seen fit to ambush Hannah Abbott on her way from the kitchens. As she'd been previously unable to contact their Head of House (another delicate way of putting it, judging from the way Severus's scowl deepened) they'd gone relatively unpunished, but Professor Sprout wanted it taken care of now. Severus merely told her to give him the names of the students reportedly responsible, and he would handle it.

The whole time, Severus never met anyone's eyes. They still carried a slightly dazed, hazy look that Hermione interpreted to mean that he was not yet fully himself. She came to the conclusion that his avoidance of meeting anyone's gaze was merely a precaution because his Occlumency defenses were likely battered and weakened- he would be easy prey to any Legilimens at the moment. He was no longer in the middle of a war, but clearly had not lost the talent for withdrawing into himself.

The meeting ended with the announcement that Hermione would be joining the teachers chaperoning the students next Hogsmead weekend. With that said, everyone sat back and relaxed. A few stood up and left- the rest stayed and chatted for awhile. Hermione wasn't sure whether she should stay or leave, when Severus finally spoke to her.

"Would you be interested in taking over my classes until Wednesday?" he asked, staring at the fire morosely. He didn't bother looking at her as he addressed her.

Hermione frowned. "Sir?"

"I dislike repeating myself, Hermione. Would you be interested in taking over my classes for two days?"

"I would be happy to," Hermione replied. "But why?"

"I don't feel up to dealing with the dunderheads for another few days," Severus said, leaning over to grab the poker leaning against the wall to stroke the fire. It blazed brighter. "If I tried, it would likely end up with a student exploding a cauldron because I was too distracted to realize what they were doing wrong."

"You wouldn't have to have them brew potions in class," Hermione suggested. "They could work on homework." Snape scowled at her, his attention focused on the wall behind her rather than meeting her gaze. "What? It's a perfectly reasonable suggestion. And I have a large workload, which means teaching your classes for two days would interrupt my schedule."

"If I did that, they would sense weakness and cause mayhem," Severus replied silkily. "If you did that, they would assume it's a normal course of action- and you, at least, would have the energy to deal with troublemakers. You could work on your studies and have them do the same, and it would not be considered out of character."

Hermione pursed her lips, knowing he was right. "Very well."

He gazed at the wall behind her, his expression sullen and morose. "What are you going to have them do?"

"I'll hand out copies of Potions Weekly for them to read, and have them write an essay about one of the articles in it," Hermione said decisively. "Its Potions related, and should do the trick nicely."

"Considering that some first years seem to barely be able to write, much less read, I doubt it'll get very far," Severus pointed out.

"They'd better learn to read," Hermione answered seriously, "Or they'll be walking out of class for the next two days with a zero."

Severus stared at her in surprise.

"I also have not forgotten that zero you gave me in class, the day we were brewing Substantia Despero," Hermione told him primly. Severus refused to look guilty. "Before I take over the class, I'd like some sort of compensation for doing so."

"It's only two days, Hermione, not two weeks," Severus snarled at her.

"I want my question answered," Hermione told him, sitting upright. "Why did you do it?"

Snape scowled at her.

"You don't have an answer to give, do you?" Hermione pressed. "I think I do. You felt like it. That day, you just felt like being a total arse and set my potion aside far away enough that Goyle could knock it over without it seeming too suspicious. Am I right?"

The man's scowl furthered even deeper.

"I may respect you for what you did to help bring down Voldemort-" Snape's left arm twitched at this, "-but I have very little respect for you as a person. I just wanted you to know that, now that you can no longer dock points from me."

Severus sneered at her. "I had no idea you possessed such a vindictive streak, Hermione."

"Don't you remember what happened to Umbridge?"

His lips tipped up at the corners. "Ah, yes. I'd forgotten. I rather thought that was an isolated incident."

"Trust me, it wasn't," Hermione assured him grimly.

They exchanged glares- for the first time that night, Severus's eyes locked onto her's- and it seemed they were waiting for the other to turn away.

Severus won. Hermione blinked and looked down for a moment, before standing up. "You should count yourself lucky that I didn't use your vulnerability as an opportunity for revenge, Severus. I get very vindictive when someone messes with my schoolwork."

"I wasn't aware Gryffindors were capable of such emotions," Severus sneered.

Hermione smiled. "You'd be surprised. Vindictiveness is quite common amongst Gryffindor girls."

Severus gave her a considering look.

"Or perhaps there is more Slytherin in you than you would like to think," he said finally, lips tipping up at the corners again. He stood up painfully, and held out his hand to her. "I think working with you as a colleague should be a very- ah- interesting experience, Hermione."

Hermione looked him over carefully. "If you can promise not to sabotage me like that ever again, I won't enact retribution from you for that," she told him.

"You have my word."

"And what is your word worth?" Hermione countered.

"For the past twenty years, it has been my life," he replied grimly.

Hermione took his hand and shook it.

"I believe we have a deal, Sir."

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Chapter 20

December Discussion

On Monday, Hermione walked into the Potions classroom, carrying her bookbag. She took her seat at Professor Snape's desk, pulled out several copies of Potions Weekly, and flicked her wand at them, sending them out to be placed neatly on each desk. She pulled out her own book- one that McGonagall had given to her, along with instructions to read each chapter and write an essay on it- and opened it to chapter six. She'd pulled out a sheet of parchment, and was writing the opening paragraph on the Properties of Liquid Transfiguration, when the sixth-year students filed in.

Crookshanks had accompanied Hermione down to the dungeons, enjoying an opportunity to go for a leisurely walk, and sat perched on his mistress's desk, eying the students with a knowing glare.

"Each of you should have a copy of Potions Weekly at your desk," Hermione told them, not bothering to look up from her work. "You are each to read it, choose an article, write an essay on it, and turn it in by the end of class. There should be no talking, unless you're discussing an article."

The students settled down quietly, although Hermione could sense their eyes boring into her when they thought she wasn't looking. They were curious, but from the no-nonsense tone in her voice, they'd withheld their curiosity and did as they were told. Satisfied that there would be no troublemakers in this class, Hermione set down to do her work.

Transfiguring a liquid was very different than other forms of transfiguration, due to its molecular structure. Weak hydrogen bonds and the polar nature of water were both very important aspects of transfiguring liquids, since all liquids mainly consisted of water. Sloan Bucker had been a pure-blood with no understanding of molecular properties and, as such, had no idea how to truly go about transfiguring potions while retaining their properties. He had, quite by accident, discovered how to transfigure potions in a way that kept their appearance, but neutralized any effects. This had been a great achievement on his part, but he had stopped short of his goal.

Hermione knew that in order to succeed, she would basically have to create a spell that caused hydrolysis, broke up the potion into very small, very fine pieces, and turned it into an aerosol. Bucker had tried, but all he'd succeeded in doing was rearranging the components of the potion, thus neutralizing it, and then transforming it into a mist. This would mean she would have to combine the spell Bucker had discovered- one that transformed the potion into mist- with another spell that would split the potion up into molecular compounds of certain patterns.

Bucker's spell, which had been tried on Pepperup Potion, had separated all the ingredients from eachother, made the ingredients clump together and recombine with water, then separate into mist. It ruined the potion, which ended up turning into a shower of multi-colored mist. It would take a lot of tweaking, but Hermione had several ideas upon which she could expand, and, hopefully, one of them would work.

She finished her essay, set it aside, and began reading chapter seven, when the door to the classroom opened. Hermione half expected Severus to walk in, but, instead, saw a fourth-year Ravenclaw enter, looking nervous.

"Miss Granger?" Until Hermione actually became a teacher, her title remained 'Miss Granger' to all the students. "Madam… Madam Pomfrey asked me to fetch you. She needs your assistance."

Hermione frowned. "Does she know I'm in the middle of a class?"

The student nodded. "Yes, but she sent me to fetch you anyways…"

Hermione sighed and stood up. Addressing the class, she told them, "I'll be gone shortly. I'm leaving Crookshanks-" the half-kneazle looked up at her at the mention of his name, and the students stared at her as though she were crazy, "-in charge. If I come back to find that someone has done anything other than their assigned essay, there will be repercussions." She pointed her wand at the storeroom; there was an audible click of the lock, and the hum of wards snaping into place. She wasn't stupid enough to leave twenty-odd students in a classroom full of potions ingredients without proper precautions. Satisfied, she left the room, followed by the Ravenclaw.

"Miss Granger?" the student asked timidly.

"You may go," Hermione told him, heading off in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

"No, it's just- Madam Pomfrey wants you to go to Professor Snape's quarters," the Ravenclaw said. "She said to tell you she needs you there. The Hospital Wing is empty."

Hermione took a moment to process this, frowing at the Ravenclaw, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw for delivering your message," she said finally. "But if you tell anyone else the nature of the message, or repeat it, it will be a hundred points off."

"U-understood," the student stammered.

"Good," Hermione said, changing directions and heading back down towards Severus's quarters. "Go to your next class."

The Ravenclaw ran off, and Hermione made her way down to the Potion Master's rooms, morbidly curious as to what Poppy could possibly want with her down there. It certainly crossed her mind that it had something to do with Severus, but she didn't understand what she could possibly need help with.

She knocked on the door to his quarters, and Poppy bid her to enter. She did so, and stopped dead in her tracks, surprised.

Severus was on the floor, eyes half closed, and staring blankly at the ceiling. He was breathing fine, as evidenced by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Other than that, he almost appeared dead. Poppy was standing over him, casting diagnostic spells.

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked right off. There was no time for pleasantries.

Poppy looked up. "He's fine, for the most part," she admitted. "He flooed me earlier today to tell me that he wasn't feeling well- headache, flashes of pain behind his eyes, dizziness. I came to check on him fifteen minutes ago, found him collapsed on the floor, and summoned you, because- next to Severus himself- you're the most well-versed in Potions. You might be able to help."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, kneeling beside Severus's prone form and pulling out her wand. She didn't bother feeling for a pulse, knowing Poppy had likely done all the necessary preliminaries for checking that he was still alive and not in immediate danger. It took her a few minutes to realize what the source of the problem was.

"Poppy, has he been getting rest like he was supposed to, or was he working?"

"He told me he was going to get the grading he'd fallen behind on completed," Poppy said, gesturing to a stack of papers on his desk.

"The idiot," Hermione muttered, casting an Ennervate spell on the unconscious man. "If he'd only listened to you and gotten rest like he was supposed to, this would likely not have happened!"

"It was the potions then, I take it?"

"I'd guess so," Hermione said, biting her lip when the reviving spell failed. "You know, just as well as I do, what having a slew of performance-altering potions in one's system, plus a detoxifying potion, will do to a person."

"It's very draining," Poppy agreed with a nod. "But he would know this…"

"Men are idiots, and probably always will be idiots," Hermione said knowingly, gripping Severus's shoulders and propping him up into a sitting position. "Unless you want to take him to the Hospital Wing, we should probably put him to bed." It sounded very strange when she said it aloud. "Do you want me to stay with him?"

"I would do it myself, but since I have a student who has somehow sprouted antlers-" Hermione could hear the underlying amusement mixed with exasperation in the medi-witch's voice, "-yes, I'd appreciate very much if you'd do that. Do you need someone to take over your classes?"

"I left Crookshanks in charge," Hermione told her.

"Your cat? The ginger menace?"

"He's half-kneazle," Hermione said by way of explanation.

"Very well, then," Poppy said, heading towards the fire and taking a pinchful of floo powder. "I'd best head back then. Don't hesitate to call me if you need me- and please inform me when he wakes."

"Of course, Poppy."

~o~O~o~

"You are an idiot," Hermione told Severus as they sat in his living room, mulling over a cup of tea, after he'd been revived. "When Poppy tells you to take three days off and do nothing but rest, that does ~o~not mean grade papers!"

"Listen, you insufferable chit-"

"Don't you dare tell me to listen," Hermione snapped at him. "If you needed papers graded, you could've asked me to do it, or Albus, or even Minerva. But instead, you went off and did it yourself, got overworked, and collapsed from exhaustion. Don't you realize you tire more easily because of all the sedatives still lingering in your body? You're a Potions Master- you figure it out!"

"And what concern of it is yours?"

"The fact that I had to leave Crookshanks in charge of the class you asked me to take charge of, to come and look after you because Poppy was too busy to do so!"

This statement was met with stupefied silence.

"You left your cat in charge of my class?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"I bloody do well have a problem with that!" Severus snapped at her. "You can't have a cat teach Potions. How is it supposed to stop dunderheaded students from making a mistake during brewing?"

"You seem to have forgotten that I did not have your students brew," Hermione told him testily.

It took a moment for this to sink in.

"What about the storeroom?" Severus asked, a bit calmer now.

"Locked and warded," Hermione assured him.

Severus relaxed further, and leaned back in his chair. "Then I suppose you put a modicum of thought into your actions before leaving the students unattended in the room," he said.

"I didn't leave them unattended," Hermione replied. "Crookshanks is very capable."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Severus muttered, taking another sip of tea. He cast a nonverbal Tempus. "It's six o'clock. All classes are over now."

"I'll leave, then," Hermione said, standing up. "I've got papers to grade, in addition to the ones you collapsed over."

"You don't have to do it, if it's that much of a dent in your precious time," Severus sneered.

"No, I'm doing it so that I won't have to spend another three hours a day for the rest of the week making sure the potions in your system haven't killed you while you worked yourself over grading them," Hermione told him bitingly. "I have enough of a workload as it is."

"Very well," Severus allowed. "And what other papers are you grading? The Potions Weekly essays?"

Of course," Hermione answered irritably.

"Did you actually read the articles?"

"Of course I did," Hermione said, sounding slightly affronted

"Then you could tell me what you think of the article that suggested the addition of animal hair- as opposed to human hair- in Polyjuice Potion may have unexpected side effects?"

Hermione paused. "Animal hair in Polyjuice Potion gives the drinker some animal attributes, but does not fully complete the form."

Severus nodded, appearing amused. "Go on."

"But after the visible animal attributes-"

"Like a tail and fur, perhaps?"

Hermione threw him a dirty look. "- have been removed, there are still side effects."

"Such as?"

"Enhanced hearing or sense of smell," Hermione said. "A weak, but definitely present, sixth sense."

Severus leaned back in his chair. "Do tell," he invited.

Hermione didn't leave his rooms until dinnertime, when they were both required to be present in the Great Hall.

"So that's how you knew Black and Lupin were telling the truth back in the Shrieking Shack," Severus muttered to her as they made their way down the corridor.

"Well, I didn't know for sure that they were telling the truth," Hermione admitted. "But I could hear their heartbeats and smell their sweat;After having lived a little over a year and a half with that condition, I've learned when to recognize potential liars. It's very useful," she assured him.

"I'm sure," Severus said. "Would this also explain how you knew when someone was approaching your tent when you were out hunting for Horcruxes?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Harry and Ron both walk a certain way- I've memorized the pattern of their strides. Everyone walks in a distinctive manner. "She looked him over critically. "You in particular, to be honest, with the way you stalk down the halls. If I heard unfamiliar footsteps, it put me on high alert. Of course," she added, "it was sometimes them walking on leaves, which interferred a bit."

"And you've not told anyone this?"

"Of course not!" Hermione huffed. "They would have thought me insane- or have dragged me off to Madam Pom- Poppy, no doubt."

"Naturally," Severus acknowledged.

"Besides, it's prudent to keep some things to yourself," Hermione said primly. "You'd know all about that, I'd suppose."

"I would," Severus agreed, raising a hand to the collar of his robe to pull it over more fully. Hermione knew he was thinking of Nagini's bite. They'd reached the entrance to the Great Hall. They pushed open the doors, strode in, and headed for the High Table. The students stopped eating to stare at the two of them as they entered, both walking straight-backed and stiff towards the teacher's table.

To Harry and Ron, it looked as though the two had been preparing for a catfight, and had only cooled off because they were not in the right place to do it.

But in reality, both Professor and Apprentice merely wanted to publicly give eachother the cold shoulder.

They took their seats, and to Hermione's great consternation, she discovered Crookshanks sitting on top of her plate, licking his lips.

Severus sneered at her. The other staff members looked on curiously as he spoke;

"I believe that ginger menace you call a substitute teacher has earned his place at the table."

Crookshanks purred.

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