Survivors

CHAPTER 3

Hagrid

"Hermione!" Hagrid's voice boomed out across the lawn when he opened his door.

"Hagrid!" Hermione answered, her joyful expression at being reunited with her half-giant friend mirroring the look on his own countenance.

Hagrid's face suddenly crumpled. "Aw, Hermione," he spluttered, grabbing the young woman and pulling her to his massive belly with both of his huge arms. She could feel his bulk shaking before she could hear the first great sobs roaring through his lungs.

"Er...Hagrid," Hermione managed in a strangled voice, her face squashed into his waistcoat.

Hagrid continued to squeeze Hermione to him, lifting her feet completely off the ground as he began to slowly rock back and forth in his grief.

Hermione threw her head back. "Hagrid!" she cried, vainly flapping her hands, which were pinned at her sides. She was unable to match his volume. The smell of wet boarhound and woodsmoke was quite overpowering. She finally resorted to kicking at his shins with her dangling feet.

Hagrid finally looked down at Hermione, his face covered in tear streaks. Two great drops fell from the apple of his cheek onto Hermione's forehead and dribbled down into her eye.

"Hagrid, could you put me down, please?" Hermione gasped, squinting at the sting of the salt.

"Wha'? Oh, yeh, yeh, of course, Hermione, sorry 'bout that. S'pose I jus' got a bit carried away there." He released his grip on her. She was just able to catch herself from falling to her knees. Hagrid took out an enormous mauve handkerchief and blew his nose like a trumpet.

"Well, come in then, come in," he urged her, mopping off his face. "Heard yeh'd arrived, didn' know when yeh'd have time ter see me, though, thought I'd let yeh settle in firs'."

"It was a busy first week," Hermione admitted, entering the familiar gamekeeper's hut.

"Yeah, it always is, till things get up an' runnin'," Hagrid agreed.

Inside the hut, Fang raised his greying head and sniffed in Hermione's direction from where he lay on Hagrid's bed. Either he remembered her scent, or he decided she wasn't interesting enough, because he settled his muzzle back onto his paws and sighed noisily.

"Look, Fang, remember Hermione?" Hagrid asked eagerly, reaching down to scratch the boarhound's ears. Fang whined noncommittally.

"Look, he remembers you!" Hagrid declared. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing towards one of the rough wooden chairs around the table in the middle of the room.

Hermione climbed up onto the seat and looked around. The more things changed...

Hagrid busily got out things for tea. "Yer must think I'm a right blubberpuss, the way I greeted yeh," he said with forced cheer. "Didn' mean ter get carried away like that. It's jus'...yeh know..." He sighed mightily.

"I know, Hagrid, don't worry about it. I expect seeing me again brought back the memories."

"It did at that," Hagrid agreed. He sat down across from Hermione while they waited for the water to boil. "How're yeh?" he asked, with friendly concern, placing a hand the size of a dinner plate over Hermione's.

"I'm fine," she responded brightly, patting his hand back with her other one. "I mean, of course I miss him," she quickly added with a serious expression, "but I'm really enjoying being back. I wasn't sure...I thought it might be difficult, coming back here, but it's been excellent. Like coming home. And everyone's been wonderful: Minerva, Remus, Angelina, Filius, absolutely everyone." Almost everyone. And even he's just part of the scenery. It wouldn't be Hogwarts without him.

"Yeah, I know everyone was really excited when they heard yeh'd be comin' here ter teach. But tell me, Hermione, why History o' Magic? Bit dry, isn't it? Yeh were always such a whiz at spells an' stuff. Would'a thought yeh'd've gone for something a bit flashier. Transfiguration or Charms or somethin'."

"Those posts were already taken," Hermione pointed out. "And you know my favorite book was always Hogwarts, A History. I spent the last two years writing a paper--well, a book, really," she modestly interjected, "on the historical trends in legislating wizard and non-human interactions. It was the basis for my promotion to Witch Magistra."

"Uh-huh," Hagrid vocalized, mouth slightly open. The kettle over the fire started to rattle. Hagrid snapped back to attention and grabbed the kettle, poured the steaming brew into the mugs he had already set up.

"So Hagrid, what've you been up to?" Hermione inquired politely, sensing that a discussion of the ethical implications of the codicil to the Goblin Laws of 1760 was not in the offing.

"Eh, bit o' this, bit o' that." Hagrid shrugged. "They didn' want me teachin' anymore after...well, after Dumbledore was gone an' all--"

"Oh, Hagrid, I'm sure that's not true," Hermione protested loyally, although she suspected that it was, in fact.

Hagrid sighed again. "Tell yeh the truth, Hermione, me heart wasn't really in it anymore. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved workin' with the kids an' all-- well, most of 'em, anyway," he added, giving Hermione a knowing wink, "but havin' to stick to Flobberworms an' Bowtruckles an' Knarls..." He made a long-suffering face.

Hermione grinned. "Well, the Blast-Ended Skrewts were a bit over the top, Hagrid, really!"

"I know, I shouldn't'a sprung something on yeh that I didn' have experience with meself. But yeh've gotta admit, the Hippogriff was pretty good!"

"Yes, I admit that." Hermione smiled. "And quite useful, too, as it turned out."

"Yeah, ol' Buckbeak knew which side his bread was buttered on."

"You mean Witherwings," Hermione corrected him.

"He never really got used to that name. Went back to Buckbeak after... afterwards."

"Is he still around?"

"Ah, no. Had ter let 'im go. Oh, he drops in once in a while. Think he's got some kids now. Least he had a youngster in tow last spring."

Hermione nodded and gingerly tried her still-steaming drink. It tasted like chicken soup with cranberries. She swallowed and gave Hagrid a wobbly smile.

Hagrid smiled back, awkwardly. Then he asked, "So, uh, yeh heard abou' Ron settin' up his own place, did yeh? Finally outgrew that corner of Fred and George's shop."

"Oh, yes, he sent me an owl just before term started. We're still in loose touch. Do you see him much?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, every time I'm in Diagon Alley I'll drop in on him. Well, wave to him through the window anyway," he amended. "When he's there..."

Hermione nodded again. After another moment, she said, "Well, it's really good to see you again."

"Yeah, yer too, Hermione," Hagrid responded a little wistfully.

"I've just... I have to get back up to the castle. Classes." She gave him a small, apologetic smile and jumped down from the chair.

"'Course," Hagrid said, standing. "I best get back to work, too. Had a report of a boomslang I've gotta check into. Professor Snape'll be wantin' it fer 'is potions if I can find it."

"Yes, I was wondering about that," Hermione said suddenly as Hagrid opened the door for her. She had meant to ask Remus, and had forgotten. She turned and looked at him quizzically. "Why did Snape go back to teaching Potions?"

"What do you mean?"

Hermione paused on the threshhold. "I mean, remember back before... well, in our sixth year. Professor Snape was the Defence teacher. He'd been waiting his whole career for that post. And then he had it, and afterwards... You know, when he came back, he went back to Potions, didn't he? I was just wondering. Why not Defence?"

Hagrid shook his shaggy head and shrugged. "Mebbe Professor McGonagall didn' trust 'im completely yet. I'll tell yeh in all honesty I've still got me doubts. I know wha' they say he did afterwards an' all, but still..." He had a dark look on his face.

Hermione put her hand delicately on Hagrid's massive arm. "Hagrid," she said seriously, "Professor Snape redeemed himself. I know what he did-- to Dumbledore-- we may not ever know the whole truth about that, but he was cleared of any criminal deeds by the Wizengamot, and the Ministry and Professor McGonagall both allowed him to return to teaching. I know he's not the most pleasant person--"

Hagrid snorted at that understatement.

"--but when you look objectively at all that happened, he never did anything to further Voldemort's cause; on the contrary, he only ever acted in the interests of the Order."

Hagrid's face clouded with anger. "You think killin' Dumbledore was in the Order's bes' interes'?" he demanded.

"I don't know..." she stammered uncertainly, removing her hand from his arm, unnerved by his show of anger towards her. "It must have been... After all, we won, didn't we?"

"It'd've been a damn' sight easier if Dumbledore'd still been around!" Hagrid shouted. "Mebbe then Harry wouldn't've--" His eyes bulged, red-rimmed now, the words too deeply hurtful to speak.

"We can't think like that, Hagrid," Hermione stated in a small voice. "What would have or wouldn't have happened. We only have what did happen. Like it or not..." Her throat tightened. "I've got to go," she muttered, not wanting to break down in front of Hagrid, wanting to set a brave example. She stepped down onto the lawn and walked quickly towards the castle.

Behind her, she heard the cabin door close firmly.