Survivors

CHAPTER 4

In Remus's Quarters

"Remus, can I ask you something?" Hermione was lounging in the most comfortable armchair in Remus's quarters, where she had taken to spending time during quiet moments. She was skimming through some of her second-years' attempts at the homework she had given to write imagined diary entries for wizards who had been seized during the Purge of 1591.

Remus looked up from the book he was perusing. "Anything, my dear," he said with an indulgent smile. He very much enjoyed Hermione's company, and, if truth be told, had of late been making something of a concerted effort to see to it that he had plenty of time to spend alone with her. Not that he was romantically interested in her; he considered her too young for him, and himself too much of a confirmed bachelor (he would never inflict himself on anyone, not without a cure), and...what might have been with a certain Metamorphmagus still haunted him, would haunt him until he died. No, it was just that he enjoyed the conceit that a young, talented (and moderately attractive, he might add) witch would seek out his company over that of anyone else in the castle. Not that there were many others she might have befriended.

There was Angelina, of course, but she spent nearly all of her waking hours sitting on a broomstick, a position in which Hermione had not often, if ever, found herself. And as for most of the others, they had certainly accepted Hermione as a worthy colleague, but there was probably still the lingering aura of "former student" about her that effectively blocked any further leanings towards amity. Remus, though, had only known Hermione as a student (a most brilliant one) for a single year, and even then, he had felt another sort of connection to her, and to Ron, as the closest friends of James's son. In addition, she had fought for the Order, actually seen combat in the Ministry, and later, at Harry's side, just as he had. That shared experience had forged a bond between the two of them that transcended their differences in age and background. But Hermione had a question.

"Why is Snape teaching Potions?" She removed her glasses (she had ruined her eyesight during all-night reading binges in poorly lighted conditions), indicating that she was expecting a longer discussion.

Remus looked surprised by the question. "He's the best there is."

"Yes, yes, I know," Hermione countered dismissively, "Half-Blood Prince and all, but why isn't he teaching Defence?"

"Because I'm the best there is," Remus teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean that you weren't. But everyone knows he was itching to get the Defence job, and then Dumbledore gave it to him, and then, afterwards, when he came back, he went into Potions. Right?" She wasn't a hundred percent clear on what had happened to everyone in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat. She had been too wrapped up in her own grief experience to keep track of everyone else's, least of all Severus Snape's.

"Well, you know he didn't come back right away. Of course, you were here that year," Remus said, more reminding himself than her.

"More or less," Hermione said wryly. She had been absent the last two months of her final term, in a desperately doomed attempt to protect Harry from himself.

"More or less," Remus acknowledged with a curt nod. "So who took Defence that year?"

"Moody. The real one," Hermione added, well in remembrance of Barty Crouch, Jr., who had impersonated Alastor Moody and taught the class in her fourth year. The impersonator had been better, in her opinion. The real Moody had also only lasted a year, before deciding once and for all to hole up with his wand and his Dark detectors and be done with it.

"And Brewster must have taken Potions, then," Remus surmised.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "But after that...?"

"Well, when it was all over, Severus was brought to answer charges before the Wizengamot, but, as you also know, he was exonerated. The following year, he returned here as a teacher. Of course, that was the year I came back here as well, to teach Defence. I can't tell you exactly why he went back to Potions. All I can tell you is that Minerva contacted me directly about the Defence position, oh about a month before the start of term. I'm sorry if that's not much help." He shrugged apologetically.

"Never mind," Hermione sighed. "It's not important. Just wondering, you know?" She returned to the students' papers. It shouldn't matter to her why Snape was teaching Potions as opposed to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and it bothered her that she was wasting so much time thinking about that dreadful man. But now that the question was lodged in her brain, she knew it would give her no rest until she was able to answer it satisfactorily. One of the downsides of having such an inquisitive nature.

"Oh, Hermione?" Remus asked, just as she was getting down to reading again.

"Yes?"

"You won't forget about the meeting tomorrow, will you?" He seemed sheepish, knowing full well that she wouldn't forget, but still being compulsive enough to have to remind her. He hated being unable to fulfill his duties, and always made a point of arranging someone to cover for him so that no one would have to reschedule for his sake.

Hermione smiled to herself. "Don't worry," she placated him. "I'll take notes for you. If there's one thing I'm a whiz at, it's taking notes."

xOxOxOx

Oh, gods. What is she doing here? Bad enough that I have to sacrifice this hour for this inane meeting, but to have to do it in the presence of the new Gryffindor darling of the school is really too much. Surely she is here in error.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood, Professor Granger," Snape seemed to take pleasure in informing her, "but this meeting is for Heads of House only."

"I know," Hermione replied, taking the seat next to Professor Sprout, whom she greeted with a warm smile.

Impudent snot. She as good as stuck her impertinent tongue out at me.

"You haven't been named Head of Gryffindor since this morning, have you?" Snape inquired.

Gods, I hope not. That would be the end of it. Remus is bad enough.

"No," Hermione answered simply, adjusting her robes around her.

"Or has Hogwarts suddenly inaugurated a fifth House, of which I am unaware?"

"Not that I know of," Hermione said, looking at Snape with what looked to him very much to be a challenging glint in her eye.

Professor Sprout was following the exchange with interest.

"Then we are back at the start of this charming repartee," Snape sneered, "which was--"

"Ah, good afternoon, Pomona, Severus!" Professor McGonagall entered in a rush, Professor Flitwick in her wake. "I apologize for the delay, but Filius and I were waylaid by a situation in the Ravenclaw common room involving an anti-gravity field and a vat of jelly." She dropped into the chair at the head of the table and Flitwick scurried into the seat on her left. "Hermione!" She smiled. "How good of you to fill in for Remus."

Blast! Tonight's the full moon! Look at her gloating at me. Thinks she's so bloody clever.

"Not at all," Hermione was saying.

"Right, shall we get started then?" Professor McGonagall picked up a parchment from the sheaf she had brought in with her.

No, we bloody well shall not!

"Minerva," Snape said softly, raising one long, pale finger. "I find that I must lodge a protest."

Professor McGonagall sighed ever so slightly and turned to Snape, her eyebrows raised. "Yes, Severus?"

"This meeting is for Heads of House only." He nodded in supposed acknowledgement at Flitwick and Sprout before continuing. "It is..." He paused, allowing a smirk to creep onto across his features. "...unfortunate...that Remus finds himself unable to attend. But I do not think that is reason for sensitive matters to be discussed in front of... inexperienced and...immature staff members." He steepled his fingers and looked coolly at Hermione.

"Oh my," whispered Professor Flitwick.

Take that, you little upstart.

Hermione felt her cheeks getting hot, but she held her peace. In any case, Professor McGonagall jumped immediately to Hermione's defense.

"Severus," McGonagall said, her voice shaking slightly with indignation, "you, possibly more than anyone else, should be aware of the reason for Remus's absence, and as you very well know, it is something which is completely beyond his, or anyone else's, control. He has, quite responsibly, I might add, assigned a Deputy to represent his House and inform him of anything pertinent which we might discuss. And--"

"Oh, are we allowed to delegate our responsibilities as Head of House, then?" Severus broke in, one eyebrow raised. "That is good to know. In future, I shall be sending Professor Arcanum to represent me at these engaging little meetings," he said, referring to the Ancient Runes instructor.

"You are perfectly welcome, should illness prevent you from attending to your duties, to arrange for a substitute," McGonagall informed him coolly. "Otherwise, if you find that you are unable-- or unwilling-- to fulfill your duties as Head of Slytherin House, you may resign at any time." She glared icicles at Snape, and he returned in kind.

Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you. Then you could banish me to that dungeon, never have to suffer my presence for a second longer than absolutely necessary. I'd not give you the pleasure.

"No, I don't believe that I will," Snape finally drawled.

"And as for your suggestion that Professor Granger is anything less than discreet," McGonagall continued huffily, "I will personally vouch for her trustworthiness."

Of course you will. House affiliations not counting in the adult world, my arse!

"Well," Snape purred, "it seems that you have successfully answered all of my objections." He gave a curt nod and settled back into his chair again. Professor McGonagall was about to start again when Snape suddenly leaned forward and asked, frowning, as if the thought had just occurred to him, "What about his classes?"

"Pardon me?"

Snape seemed genuinely bothered. "His classes; who is covering his classes. In the past, he's asked me to do it, but--"

"I am." Hermione spoke up with a hint of pride.

Snape swivelled his head to fix Hermione with an inscrutable look and softly said, "You?"

"Yes," she answered, meeting his gaze, although inwardly flinching, expecting any second to hear, 'Ten points from Gryffindor for your impertinence, Miss Granger.'

"And what, pray tell, makes you think that you are qualified to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?" he asked in that dangerously quiet tone Hermione knew so well.

"Because I have defended myself against the Dark Arts," she shot back. "In case you've forgotten."

"Indeed I have not," Snape replied, with a nasty sneer which revealed his sharp, uneven teeth.

Oh ho, girl, now I've got you.

"I do seem to recall that you were at the Ministry during that unfortunate incident in which Black was killed...although I believe you were lying unconscious somewhere during most of it. And then there was your feeble attempt at aiding Potter during his final confrontation with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Weren't you put out of action by...what was it? A dead... child?"

And of course, greatest of all, my trump, your triumphal non-appearance at the little party Malfoy arranged...but best not mention that after all...it would only lead to a tedious discussion of my own actions...

"It was an Inferius, you bastard," Hermione growled.

"Ah yes. Well there you go," he concluded lightly. "You have clearly demonstrated a thorough understanding and application of the subject."

"Professor Snape!" Minerva snapped, beside herself with suppressed indignation. "That is quite enough! Professor Granger's qualifications are not at issue here, although I daresay she is more than qualified to teach any subject in the curriculum."

Snort. It'll be a cold day in the Ninth Hell before she teaches my class!

"I am perfectly satisfied with Remus's arrangements," Minerva plowed on, "and it is not your place to question them. I realize that, in the past, you were called on to fill in for him on occasion, but every time you made sure that everyone knew how put upon you were and what a great sacrifice you were making. I cannot fathom why, now, you are behaving like a jealous child. Yes, a child, Severus!" McGonagall raised her voice in answer to Snape's flashing eyes. "You had your chance at the Dark Arts position, and you made it quite clear to me then what your feelings were. I should think you'd be glad that Remus has found a solution which does not include you. Now, may we finally get down to the business at hand? I should very much like to get through this meeting before dinner!" Professor McGonagall's flaring nostrils bore a striking resemblance to those of an enraged Hebridean Black dragon. "Not that I believe I'll have much of an appetite," she muttered under her breath.

Hermione's heart was beating wildly, sweat was prickling under her arms and on her back, and she could feel that her face had flushed to the colour of a dragon liver. How dare he! How dare he bring up those incidents from the past! As if he had exhibited any more effectiveness in combat against Voldemort's minions than she! As far as she knew, the sum total of his combat experience involved blasting Dumbledore to Kingdom Come. Funny he didn't mention that little skirmish. She couldn't even bring herself to look in Snape's direction, she was fuming so hard. She stared blindly at a spot on the table and tried hard to re-gain control of her thought processes. She needed to represent Gryffindor appropriately, which included not letting Snape get her goat. She knew that was what he was really after...he wasn't really interested in propriety, just in driving the point home that she, Hermione Granger, Witch Magistra, Professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Veteran of the Second War, Order of Merlin Second Class, author of several well-received articles in Historia Magica and the Journal of Magical Inquiry (JMI), was nothing more than a half-grown, ill-prepared, pampered twit in his mind. Minerva was right! He was the one behaving childishly, and she wouldn't let herself be dragged down to his level. She sat up straight, fixed her eyes on Minerva, and caught up with what she was saying about House points.

That was satisfying. Very satisfying indeed. Much more so than needling Remus. Double points: Minerva's babbling means I got her, too. I always did enjoy shutting little Miss Know-It-All up. Good to know it works even without the threat of negative House points or detentions. Yes, I do believe I am finding the correct buttons to push with her.