Ordinary People

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch---

Hermione woke up when Madam Pomfrey pulled down her blankets, allowing cold air to grab at her warm body. Struggling for a moment, she relaxed upon realizing that Pomfrey was merely checking the dressing around her wound.

"You're healing nicely, Miss Granger," the mediwitch said. "In fact, I daresay that if you feel like it, you can leave the Infirmary today. I want you to come back, so I can keep an eye on you, of course, but I know you'll want to be celebrating with your friends." She offered Hermione a rare smile. "Severus left earlier himself, but I thought you would prefer to sleep."

"I can leave?" she asked, dumbfounded. Pomfrey was notorious for keeping students far longer than required. Unwilling to question her sudden impulses, Hermione gingerly sat up, gratified when her side only protested mildly.

Pomfrey watched her anxiously for signs of distress. "Nothing strenuous, mind. You can go to meals, but otherwise, I want you lying down in your dormitory or Common Room. And if anything changes--if you start to feel dizzy or your wound starts weeping--I want you to come to me immediately. Is that clear? If I hear of anything amiss with you, I will Petrify you and strap you to the bed, Miss Granger."

With a reassuring smile, Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I promise to be careful, Madam Pomfrey," she said, putting her feet on the floor and rather enjoying the shocking cold on her bare toes.

It only took two tries for her to stand successfully, taking a few steps around the room to prove to the hovering Pomfrey that she could.

"Can I have my robes?" she asked.

"I have a fresh set, dear," Pomfrey replied. "The ones you came in wearing were ruined. Let me help you ..."

With a few token protests, Hermione allowed her to undress and help her into her robes. Actually, she was rather glad for the help. She could have done it herself; it just would have taken about five times longer.

Stepping back, Pomfrey studied her calculatingly. "Now, dear, I don't want you to think I'm throwing you out. If you feel that you need to stay--"

"Oh, no," Hermione replied hastily. "I feel all right. I mean, I don't want to go skipping through the halls or anything, but I don't want to spend another day counting stones in the ceiling."

Surprisingly, Pomfrey chuckled. "Well, take it easy. Breakfast is in a little less than an hour, so you can take your time getting there."

With heartfelt thanks, Hermione left the Infirmary slowly, trying to figure out the best way to walk that didn't make her hurt too badly. If Pomfrey noticed that she went in the exactly the opposite direction than the Great Hall, she didn't say anything.

Severus should be in his quarters, she thought. And wouldn't he be glad to see her up and about? Smiling secretively, she focused her attention on making it to his rooms without tripping. Fortunately, the corridors were blissfully empty, so she wasn't worried about knocking anyone over as she literally watched her feet shuffle forward.

"Well, well," an unmistakable voice drawled from somewhere nearby. "Someone's up early. Or perhaps you're up very, very late?"

Hermione turned around to see a gleefully grinning Draco Malfoy propped lazily against a suit of armor. "Malfoy," she said coldly, inclining her head but maintaining eye contact.

"Granger," he replied, still smirking at her. "According to local sources, you've been a very naughty girl."

"I don't know what you mean," she retorted, injecting as much haughtiness in her tone as she could.

"I hear that you've finally given it up, Granger," Malfoy said, uncrossing his legs and moving closer to her. "I'd no idea that our dear Potions Master had a thing for ugly little Mudbloods, but there's no accounting for taste, now is there?"

Her hands clenched into fists by her sides. "Go to hell," she said quietly through gritted teeth.

"Tell me, Granger, how long have you been letting him fuck you?" Malfoy's voice slid over the expletive like silk on water, and he placed a single finger on Hermione's cheek as he spoke. "One year? Two? Is he the first professor you've--"

She could take it no longer. The last two days of rage and fear and anxiety came pouring through her as she swung her closed fist at Malfoy's slimy smile. It connected with a sickening crunch against his nose.

Hermione hoped fervently she'd broken it.

"You bitch!" Malfoy spat, cupping his hands around the freely bleeding appendage.

Absently, she noticed her knuckles were spattered with his blood as well. It made her feel oddly better.

Eyes filled with a mix of pain and anger, Malfoy pointed his wand at her. "Ex--"

But he never finished the spell, and she never knew what hex he was going to place on her. Before Malfoy could even blink, her wand was in her hand and pointed straight at his throat. "Silencio! Expelliarmus!" she cried, effectively cutting him off.

Hermione smiled as she caught Malfoy's wand deftly in her left hand. "Crudity is the self-defense of ignorance, you know, Malfoy," she said grimly, imitating Severus as well as she could and putting a hand to her now-aching side. Hopefully, she hadn't burst any of the stitches.

Her victorious moment was cut short, however, as she heard a scandalized voice shout, "Miss Granger!" halfway down the hall.

Professor McGonagall came skidding through the corridor, grabbing Hermione's shoulder and giving it a firm shake. She bit back a cry as her side protested once more.

Of course, she thought, it probably did look rather bad. There she was, standing over a bleeding Draco Malfoy, holding his wand and smirking at him. It certainly couldn't look good.

"What are you doing, girl?" McGonagall roared, shaking her again. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for assaulting a student."

Hermione blinked but stayed silent.

"Mr. Malfoy, get on to the Infirmary," she continued, giving him a glare for good measure.

Taking an indecent period of time, Malfoy clamored to his feet, holding his hand out and giving Hermione an expectant look. With one last sneer, she handed him the wand and watched him saunter down the hallway. She noted that he kept prodding at his nose with no small amount of satisfaction.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said, finally releasing her shoulder and her expression softening minutely, "just because you've just recently undergone severe trauma is no excuse to go about attacking your fellow students."

Hermione looked up at her Head of House, wondering what she should say. In the end, she concluded that it would probably be best to remain quiet.

Softening even further, McGonagall stepped away. "I think it would be best if you run along, now, Miss Granger."

With a short nod, Hermione turned and started walking toward Gryffindor tower. Now would probably not be the best time to visit Severus. Harry and Ron would probably be awake already, in any case, and she could go to breakfast with them. "Ursa Minor," she told the Fat Lady.

"Glad to see you're feeling better," the portrait responded. "Everyone's been quite worried about you."

"Thanks," she said, very carefully climbing in the hole as the Fat Lady swung forward, grimacing as she had to bend over.

She was rather surprised to see at least half a dozen people milling about in the Common Room, Ron, Parvati, and Ginny among them. Offering them a half-smile, she put a hand to her side again. "Morning," she tried.

Ron grinned back at her, eyes sparkling, but Parvati spoke before he could. "Hermione, how could you?" she cried reproachfully. "With him?"

Smile freezing, Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She was hurting and tired and not up to dealing with this. Not now.

She turned on her heel and climbed out of the tower once more, only allowing her tears to fall once she'd escaped the Fat Lady's line of sight.

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She wound up, oddly enough, in the corridor leading to the kitchens, curled up beside a large statue, the marble cold and somehow comforting against her back.

Hermione cried for an unknown length of time; hot, angry tears that left her shaking in their aftermath. She was torn between an anger so strong it scared her and abject misery. How dare Parvati react like that? That was probably how everyone was going to behave, even Harry and Ron. Especially Harry and Ron, perhaps.

It was the first time ever, she dimly noted, that she actually wished Severus was a bit nicer to people in general. If only he didn't snipe at Harry every time he saw him.

But that was unfair--she couldn't ask Severus to change just to please her whims. Well, she shouldn't at any rate. Sighing, she tilted her head back, resting the crown of her head on the statue's base, closing her eyes and making an attempt not to cry again.

She'd almost gone to his quarters. Almost. But as upset as she was, she knew she'd wind up picking a fight with him, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him like that. Again.

"So there you are," someone said from above her. Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes. Ron.

"I'm not going back there right now, Ron," she said tiredly. "I can't bear people looking at me like that. As if I've somehow betrayed them."

"Everyone's worried," he replied. "Well ... most everyone. It's all over the castle by now, I'm sure." Ron coughed a bit, nervous about her reaction to that fact.

She made a little noise between a hiccup and a giggle. "Of course," she agreed. "If Parvati ran into Lavender on her way to Hannah's room last night, I'm sure it circulated in record time."

"And you missed breakfast," Ron continued, crouching down beside her.

She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes with a little huff. "Somehow, Ron, I'm not very hungry."

The crouch turned into a sit, his long legs splaying out in front of him, his bony hip digging into her side. Hermione was comforted by the reality of him. Even the smattering of freckles across his nose made her feel better.

Something struck her. "Where's Harry?" she asked very softly.

Ron's eyes nervously flicked away. "He's pretty mad, love. Well ... mad may not be the right word for it. Stunned, maybe. You've managed to shock everyone, you know."

"It's an incredibly long story," she said, hands going to the back of her neck and rubbing fiercely. "And not very interesting, I'm sure."

"Not interesting?" he echoed. "Are you crazy? Hermione, you're telling me that the story behind the fact that you apparently were cuddling with evil Professor Snape in your Infirmary bed not a day ago isn't interesting? What on Earth does your definition of interesting involve? Man-eating polar bears?"

She laid her head familiarly on his shoulder, and his arm automatically snaked around her shoulder. The smells of musky boy-sweat and laundered robes tickled her nostrils and Hermione, to her horror, found herself tearing up again. "I didn't want to make such a mess of everything," she wailed, turning her face to the fabric of Ron's robed shoulder.

"Course you didn't," he soothed.

"I just ... no one was supposed to find out!" she cried, muffled.

Ron just sat there, letting her soak his robes, as her tears ran dry.

She pulled away and gave him a watery smile. "Sorry about that."

"Nothing to be sorry about," he replied, giving her a little one-armed hug across her shoulders. They regarded each other quietly for a moment. "So ..." Ron said after the pause. "You and Snape, eh?"

"Are you mad about it?" she asked, looking at her fingertips with muted interest.

"Mad? Why would I be?" Ron asked blankly. "Confused as hell, sure. I mean, I'd no idea you spent any more time around him than we did, but I'm not angry. As long as ... well ... he is nice to you, isn't he?"

She looked up, startled. "Of course he's nice to me," she said archly. "Ron, we're lovers."

Ron winced. "That's a bit strange, thinking of him as your lover. Hey, 'Mione, do me a favor and don't call him that for a little while, okay?"

They were quiet once more, Hermione finally beginning to calm down a bit. After some time, she pulled away and made as if to stand slowly, stitches pulling at her side.

"Hold on there, girlie!" Ron said with a smile, clamping his hand over hers and pulling her carefully back down. "You don't get off that easy."

She was confused. "What?"

"Hermione, up until last night, I never knew that you'd spent any time around Snape that doesn't involve either class or detention, and then I learn that you somehow know him well enough to let him ... .well ... you know," Ron said. "I think I am entitled enough of an explanation that I don't spend my nights wondering if he's taken advantage of you. But not too much, mind," he interjected hastily. "I also don't want to spend my nights in sleepless terror at the recollection of your description of my Potions professor naked."

"I'll refrain, then," she replied dryly. "But it might be easier if you asked questions instead, you know."

"How long?" he asked without preamble.

Hermione let out a dry chuckle. "That's not very detailed. How long what? How long have we been ... intimate or how long have I known him better than I've let on or how long has it been since they last served kippers at breakfast? Those are all valid extensions, Ron."

He glared mockingly at her. "If I had the stomach for it, I'd ask for the first one please, but as it stands, I'll settle for the second one, instead."

"You remember how Harry and I told you about getting him away from You-Know-Who all those months ago?" At his nod, she continued. "Well, Dumbledore was so angry that he actually gave both of us detention--Severus and I."

Ron winced again. "Hey, Hermione? Could you not call him 'Severus' yet either? Just for a little while. Then you can call him anything you want. Even 'dearest, darlingest Sevvie.'"

"Good Lord," Hermione replied with a laugh. "I couldn't call him that. Doesn't suit him at all."

He grinned at her and waved his hand. "Pray, continue. I'm very intrigued with the idea of Snape having detention."

"Dumbledore has a nasty streak wider than Salazar Slytherin," she said. "He came up with some of the worst detentions I've ever served. The first night, you remember, he sent us out to the stables. It got a little better after that, but not much. He even handed us over to Trelawney one night," she said with undisguised horror. Ron laughed at her expression. "Anyway, somewhere in there, we--Sev--Snape and I, that is, started working on some stuff together. You know, magical theory sort of stuff. Sev--Snape is just as interested in it as I am."

Ron waggled his eyebrows comically. "A meeting of the minds, eh?"

She playfully slapped his shoulder and gave him a glare. "You idiot, we didn't just fall into bed together, you know. In fact," Hermione informed him with a prim cough, "we didn't actually ... um ... well, you know, until a couple of weeks ago."

"So what did you do between November and May, then, if it wasn't that?" he asked blankly.

"You really are a pig, you know that?" she asked in disgust. "There's more to life than your sexual gratification."

"But not much. Anyway, you were telling me about some absolutely fascinating magical theory thingy that wound up with you and your darlingest Sevvie doing the nasty."

"If you're not going to be serious, Ron ..." she warned.

He shrugged. "I prefer Indignant Hermione to Hysterical Hermione. Sorry."

"I know you don't care at all about our theories," Hermione sniffed, turning away from him. "So I won't bother telling you anything detailed. But it's really interesting, Ron. And it's not anything anyone's ever done before."

"With that recommendation, you have to tell me a little at least."

She smiled beatifically. "Blood is magic. That's the source of it. I've seen it--raw, elemental magic."

He studied the dreamy look in her eyes with interest. "But what about--?"

"I promise, Ron, it's true. I can't explain any more without a chalkboard and a microscope, but trust me. And that's what Severus and I are working on."

His eyes narrowed. "So that's why you've been reading all of those weird blood magic thingies. You know, Hermione, you could have said."

"And admitted I was collaborating with evil Snape and falling in love with him at the same time? Right," she scoffed.

"Love?" Ron asked.

"Yes, love," she mimicked. "What do you think happened? I'm in love with him, he's in love with me."

Ron swallowed anxiously. "In love, huh?"

She just glared at him silently, daring him to say anything.

"I can't say I'm thrilled for you, Hermione, okay? It's weird, and you know it as well as I do. But if this is what you want, and I'm sure it is by the way you're giving me that 'I'm going feed you to one of those unspeakable Forbidden Forest creatures' look now, then far be it from me to interfere," he said earnestly, running his free hand through his shaggy hair. "It will take a bit, but I'll be fine with this. Although don't ever expect me to try to be his best friend."

Hermione grinned at the discomfort in his voice as he said that. "Lord, no. It's not a front--Severus really dislikes people as much as he seems to. He doesn't want to be your friend either."

"Well, all I want is for you to be happy, and if he makes you happy, then I can accept that. Mostly." He gave her one last hug.

Her tears started falling again, although they were of a decidedly more happy nature--she wasn't going to lose all of her friends over this issue. "Oh, Ron, he does make me happy," she said fervently. "He and I understand each other completely, although he persists in telling me I'm beautiful, which I've never understood. And when he touches me--"

"Hang on!" Ron interrupted, cheeks reddened. "Adjustment time, remember? I'm still not secure with the thought of Snape, Ardent Lover."

She chuckled. "To be honest, Ron, I don't think he is either."

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They walked back to the Common Room together, Hermione's head held high and proud as the few students they encountered gave her looks of mixed shock and disgust. Ron shot glares at them and hovered protectively at her side. Neither of them spoke and anxiety was twisting her gut into an angry knot.

Harry was sitting in a chair directly facing the portrait hole, obviously awaiting their return. His face was clear, and his gaze frankly curious as he watched them.

"I found her," Ron said unnecessarily. "She's okay."

Silence. Harry just continued to look at them impassively. Hermione was starting to feel nervous. Steeling herself, she turned to Ron and put a hand on his arm. "Ron, maybe you ought to leave us alone."

Perturbed, Ron peered at her more closely. "Are you sure?"

"Ron," she said, exasperated.

With a shrug, he turned to leave. "Well, I'll be on the Quidditch pitch, then, if either of you need me. It's a beautiful day, you know." And with that, he was gone, leaving Harry and Hermione to continue to watch each other.

She was unsure as to the reason for his silence. He didn't appear angry. But if he wasn't going to say anything, she wasn't either. Two could play that petty, childish game.

Seconds ticked by. The sunlight flooding the room half-illuminated Harry's face, sharpening his generally congenial features. Every now and then, his glasses would glint as he shifted in the chair. But he still remained quiet.

Hermione let a breath out through her nose more sharply than she'd intended. This was stupid. She turned around to go up to her dormitory--Madam Pomfrey would throw fifty fits if she knew that Hermione hadn't spent her morning stretched out complacently on a couch somewhere.

"I knew," Harry said, finally breaking his silence.

She turned once more. "What?"

"I knew," he repeated mildly. "And you ought to sit down, you know. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would be on your back if she knew you were standing around when there were perfectly decent and empty chairs nearby."

Rather confused, she laid down gratefully on a sofa, relaxing for the first time in many hours. "What do you mean, you knew?" she asked once settled in.

He shrugged. "I'm not stupid, Hermione. And I had a fair amount of time to think about it. Out there, out in the trees night before last, he was so worried about you, he had me make the Portkey."

"That's all?" she asked, chuckling incredulously. "You figured it out based on that?"

"Well," he continued, shifting in his chair once again, "that was when I started wondering about it. I mean, when he found us, he asked what had happened to you. Not about Voldemort, not about me. And when we got back to Hogwarts, it looked to me like he just panicked or something. He ran right to the Infirmary with you, shouting all the way. Snape's not usually that ... well, out of control, I suppose."

"And then you figured it out?" She was dubious--that was still an awfully big leap for someone like Harry to make.

He grinned. "Not quite. But when I was down in the Infirmary, having Madam Pomfrey mend my arm, I saw Snape sitting up in bed, watching you, and I got to thinking. Parvati said back in March or whenever it was that she saw you with a tall, skinny fellow with dark hair. And you'd all but told us it was an older chap. I didn't really know that I knew until Parvati came back from supper last night, but I wasn't surprised when she told everyone what she'd seen." Leaning back in his chair, Harry shoved his glasses up his nose, causing them to glint in the sunlight again.

Hermione was baffled by his reaction. It was almost as if he was pleased at figuring it out. "You're not ... mad?"

"I don't like that he's our professor," Harry admitted with a slight shrug. "It seems like he took advantage of you somehow. I mean ... well, I don't really know what I mean. Doesn't it bother you that he's old enough to be your father?"

"Should it?" she asked.

He shrugged again, clearly becoming uncomfortable. "If I hadn't already suspected something, I probably would have been really angry with the whole thing. Or maybe if I didn't know that Snape's fundamentally a good person--if he wasn't, he wouldn't have saved my life so many times. Lord knows he hasn't protected me out of any affection or concern for my well-being. But I can't be angry with him. Not after all that. Just do me a favor and don't, you know, run over and smother him with kisses at dinner or anything."

"I doubt that will be a significant concern," she said dryly. "But I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, I'm not okay," he said. "I'm confused and I think you've lost your mind, but I'm not angry or anything. And really, 'Mione, I don't think anyone else is, either, despite what they might say. I mean like Parvati, or Colin Creevey--who looked heartbroken when he found out, by the way. They're shocked, but they'll get over it eventually."

"You've given this a lot of thought." Shifting a bit on the sofa, she worked herself into a position to see him more clearly.

Cheerfully, Harry reached out an arm and ruffled her hair. "I've been hiding out all day and playing card games. That leaves a fair amount of time for thought."

"And here I thought you spent your days working out Quidditch plays in your head," she retorted playfully, swatting at his hand.

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. "Just because I don't like classwork and working out Quantum-thingies like you do doesn't make me completely unintelligent, you know."

"Oh, I know, but--"

Startled, Hermione was cut off as she heard someone loudly and quickly coming through the portrait hole. A red-faced McGonagall climbed into the Common Room and began scanning the chairs, eyes coming to rest squarely on her. "Miss Granger," she said sternly. "I need to have a word with you. Alone." Giving Harry a pointed glance, she folded her arms.

Silently, he scampered from the room, up to his dormitory.

She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what McGonagall was doing here. "What would you like to speak with me about, Professor?" she asked demurely.

"I would like to ask you about some interesting rumors I heard floating around the Gryffindor breakfast table, Miss Granger."

"I was not at breakfast, ma'am," she replied. It wouldn't do to make it easy for McGonagall.

Her mouth thinned. "Do not play the fool with me, Miss Granger. I am referring to the fact that some students are suggesting that you have an ... inappropriate relationship with Severus Snape."

"Inappropriate?" she echoed, sitting up with only a small struggle.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," McGonagall snapped. "Answer my question. Are these rumors ill-founded or not?"

"Possibly not," Hermione conceded. "Although I am sure that the rumors themselves are false." She patiently waited for her professor to put the pieces together.

It did not take long. McGonagall's sharp nostrils flared and her eyes widened. "Right," she said stiffly. "Miss Granger, you're coming with me." Her bony hand closed tightly around Hermione's upper arm, and she found herself being pulled to her feet and out of the tower, down hallways and stairs, gently enough to suggest that McGonagall was being cautious of her injury, but with a firmness that told her it would not be prudent to attempt to pull away. But Hermione said nothing--she didn't feel deserving of a tongue-lashing from her professor and wasn't about to ask for one.

McGonagall stopped in front of the suit of armor Hermione knew marked Severus' personal quarters, but she maintained her death grip on Hermione's arm. She was definitely going to have a bruise there the next day.

"Open up," she told the armor firmly. "I don't need a password--I am Deputy Headmistress of this school."

With a decidedly reluctant feel, the armor faded away, revealing a simple wooden door.

McGonagall banged on it with an angry fist. "I know you're in there, Severus Snape! You open this door this instant!"

The door opened hesitantly, and a bare-chested Severus poked his head out. His face was wet and he clutched a razor in his right hand. "Minerva," he said, not particularly welcoming. His eyes flicked over Hermione, and a resigned look settled across his features. "Hermione," he sighed. "Good afternoon."

Face contorting with fury, McGonagall's other hand leapt out and grabbed Severus' arm, startling him into dropping his razor. "Don't you give me that," she spat. "Come on, both of you!"

Severus looked bewildered as he allowed himself to be pulled down the corridor. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think?" McGonagall asked witheringly.

"Oh."

Hermione saw maybe a dozen students all told on their unceremonious walk through the castle. Most of them were openly gawking at the bizarre trio--McGonagall was nearly spitting nails, Severus was only half-dressed, and Hermione was preternaturally calm, a single hand pressed to her aching side. They stopped short in front of the gargoyle marking the headmaster's office.

"Ice Mice," McGonagall hissed to the gargoyle.

She practically frog-marched Hermione and Severus through the office, propelling them fiercely toward the approaching desk.

Dumbledore looked up with a bemused smile. Well, Hermione reflected absently, they probably did look a bit silly, after all. "Good morning, Minerva. Severus. Miss Granger. What can I do for you?"

"Sit," McGonagall barked at her charges. Startled, Hermione obeyed, noting that Severus didn't even hesitate to comply either. "Albus, have you happened to listen to the students' chatter lately? At supper last night, perhaps? Or breakfast this morning?"

"I believe I overheard that Mr. Finch-Fletchley is planning to attempt a reconciliation with Miss Brown," he replied, gently puzzled, "but I fail to see exactly what that has to do with these two."

"Albus, according to most of my seventh-year Gryffindors, yesterday afternoon these two were caught in a ... a delicate situation in the Infirmary." McGonagall's eyes flashed dangerously, and Hermione saw her knuckles whiten as her hands clenched further.

Dumbledore regarded them passionlessly. "Is this true, Severus?" he asked, benign.

"Yes," Severus whispered, staring at the floor.

The headmaster's eyes narrowed, and his voice was increasingly stern. "And how long has this ...?"

"Not long," Hermione confessed, trying to meet his gaze and failing entirely.

If she thought she had seen him angry all those months ago, or even yesterday morning, it was nothing to what she was seeing now. Dumbledore's hands worked themselves into fists on top of the desk. Otherwise, he was completely still, face like stone. "I see," he said coldly.

The room was absolutely quiet for more than a full minute.

The silence was broken, however, by the scraping of his chair as Dumbledore slowly stood. By the point, his hands were actually trembling with suppressed rage. Hermione wanted to crawl under her chair and hide. A sideways glance at Severus showed that he probably would have gladly joined her.

"I am shocked," Dumbledore said in a low voice. "Shocked and appalled. In all my years at this school, I have never heard of such inexcusable behavior," he spat. Both Severus and Hermione flinched.

"First, you both deliberately disobey me concerning Harry Potter," he continued in that same paralyzing voice, "And now you tell me this. Severus, how could you?" Dumbledore said, pinning him to his chair with a fiery glare. "She's a student! And for that matter, Miss Granger, I would have thought you would be capable of showing better judgment."

Hermione winced at the criticism.

"It would serve both of you right if I tossed you out of this castle today," he said.

Something inside Hermione snapped. Yesterday, he'd chastised them for daring to save Harry's life, and today for something he didn't even have the complete details behind. She leapt to her feet, ignoring her side, mouth working furiously to come up with a response. "But you can't!" she cried, agonized. "Headmaster, we've done nothing wrong!"

"Enough!" Dumbledore shouted--the first time she'd ever heard him raise his voice. "You will sit down, Miss Granger!"

She closed her mouth but remained defiantly on her feet, daring him to punish her for it.

"You will be confined to your quarters," he said levelly. "Both of you. You may attend meals, but otherwise you will be in your respective rooms. Professor McGonagall and I will perform bedchecks. This will be effective until you, Miss Granger, have left Hogwarts at the end of the week. There is to be no contact between the two of you. You will not speak at meals, you will not speak in the hallways, and you will not, under any circumstances, behave in a manner that does not bespeak an appropriate student-teacher relationship. Do I make myself clear?" He glared alternately at a fuming Hermione and a more or less recalcitrant Severus.

Hermione shot her headmaster a glare of pure venom. How dare he punish her like a wayward child? Her lip curled upward into a snarl.

His eyes came to rest on her, and he gave her a grim smile. "And I believe that a hundred points from each of your Houses would be appropriate under the circumstances," he said off-handedly. "And Miss Granger, you will calm down immediately or it will be five hundred."

With a great deal of effort, Hermione slowed her breathing and forced her face into a blank mask. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore," she said through clenched teeth.

Dumbledore pointed to his fireplace. "You will Floo back to your rooms immediately." He returned to his paperwork without a second glance, and Hermione's fingers itched to throw the box of Floo powder at his head.

Giving her one last glance, Severus tossed his handful of powder into the flames. "Severus Snape!" he shouted and stepped into the fireplace.

As soon as the flames died back down, Hermione fixed Dumbledore with a baleful glare. "I am unable to use the Floo network due to my injuries," she said.

"Minerva, escort Miss Granger to Gryffindor tower, please," he replied.

Wordlessly, fury bleeding from every pore in her body, Hermione walked beside a stern McGonagall all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Ignoring Harry's concerned look as she entered the room, she continued past him and up the stairs to her dormitory. Only once she was lying on her bed, curtains firmly shut, did Hermione permit herself to cry.

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