Survivors

CHAPTER 5

Hogsmeade

Hermione fairly flew down the main stairway into the Great Hall, where clusters of students were already excitedly buzzing, waiting for permission to head out for Hogsmeade. Here she was, already pulling an Angelina, Hermione berated herself.

She'd thought she'd have plenty of time to get ready, but she hadn't been able to find any clean clothes, and had had to waste several minutes applying an Eluara charm before she felt presentable. As they would be visible to Muggles on the road from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, she had chosen to wear Muggle clothing: a pair of jeans and a long woolen manteau over a t-shirt and jumper. In addition to offering her anonymity, they were warmer than her robes, and the mid-October air had turned biting.

Angelina, surprisingly, was already waiting by the doors. She was also wearing Muggle clothes, but over the top she wore her unbuttoned Quidditch robes, and in her hand she was holding one of the school brooms. Hermione was no great judge of brooms, but it looked to her as if that one had seen better days; several bristles were sticking out at odd angles, and a chunk of the handle actually appeared to be missing, as if someone with an extremely hardy dentition had taken a bite out of it.

"Sorry I'm late," Hermione panted, and eyed Angelina's get-up skeptically. "Are you going to fly?"

Angelina laughed. "Hardly. This old thing can't get it up anymore." She tossed the broom lightly in her grip. "I'm taking it in to Scopson's for servicing. See if he can get a last few miles out of it."

"Oh, I just thought, because of your robes--"

"Nah, I know I might get some funny looks, but there's nothing better for keeping you warm." She opened the front of her robes and exposed the interior to Hermione. "Made of felt from the Siberian Giant Yak and lined with honest-to-goodness Yeti fur. Light but durable as hell. Cost a fortune, but the club was paying!" she laughed.

"Right, then, are we ready to go?" Hermione felt nearly as excited as she had on her first Hogsmeade weekend as a student. She was so looking forward to seeing her old haunts: the Three Broomsticks, Zonko's, Honeydukes... Of course, as a member of the staff she was free to go any time, but she had been so consumed with her teaching duties that she hadn't made time to do so yet.

"I am," Angelina was saying, "but I think we'd better wait for Snape. He's the one who's supposed to be in charge of this outing."

"Where is he?" Hermione looked around. The Great Hall was now full of students, most of them staring impatiently at her and Angelina. She could see Argus Filch lurking just inside the front doors, clutching his clipboard to his chest and glowering at them and the students alternately.

"No idea." Angelina shrugged. "I've been here for ten minutes..." She glanced at the magical sundial on the wall. "It's already two minutes past time. Maybe he forgot?"

"Forgot on purpose is more like it," Hermione muttered darkly.

"Well, I'm not going to get him," Angelina flatly stated. "I swore once I finished school never to set foot in those dungeons again."

"You want me to get him?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Cheers, I'll go ahead and start helping Filch tick everyone off," Angelina said with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks a lot, Angelina," Hermione grumbled and stalked off.

Much as she did not want to have to seek out the Evil Bat of the Dungeons (as she had heard several of her students referring to Snape), she felt it would be petty and childish to refuse to do so. After all, it was his duty to supervise this outing, and he was holding everyone up with his lateness. She might even find the opportunity to make him feel guilty.

Thus cheered, Hermione made her way down the stairs. She could feel the air growing steadily more cool and dank. The smell of damp threw her back into her student days, when she had descended this way for Potions. She actually found the same cold feeling of discomfort developing in her stomach that had accompanied her during every single lesson she had been forced to sit through with Professor Snape.

Once on the dungeon level, the light became dim and artificial, as nothing more filtered down from upstairs. A couple of students, Slytherin fourth-years, ran past her to the stairs, apparently on their way to join the group. One of them, a boy with long straight blond hair that obscured his face, glanced at her with mild curiosity but didn't say anything, but the other, a girl who wore too much black eyeliner, smiled nervously and said, "Good morning, Professor Granger," as she passed.

Hermione returned her greeting and wondered briefly whether to stop them and send them on this errand, or at least ask them whether they had seen Snape, but they were already around the turn in the stairs before she had properly decided. She sighed inwardly and continued down the now-deserted corridor. How could anyone live down here?

She realized she didn't actually know where Snape's rooms were, so she walked towards the Potions classroom. She hadn't quite got there, though, when a black figure suddenly loomed up in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" Snape demanded, his black eyes glittering in annoyance.

Hermione blinked blankly for a moment. Where had he popped up from? She overcame her start and forced herself to face him. "I came to get you, Sir." She winced inwardly as she said it. She didn't need to call him Sir! Here she was, reverting to the old pattern of deference in his presence. She gritted her teeth to prevent herself from correcting herself and making it worse.

Sir? Well, well, well. It's almost worth having to supervise this blasted outing to have heard that. What's this she's wearing, though? Some Muggle confection? Hideous, really. I will never understand the Muggle faible for women wearing trousers.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Sir? Come now, Professor Granger," he said, managing to sound condescending even as his words expressed magnanimity. "We are colleagues, are we not? You may call me Severus."

Hermione shivered. "Severus," she managed to gulp out. "We... Everyone is waiting upstairs. For the Hogsmeade outing."

"Of course they are. It is time, after all." He continued to stride along the corridor towards the stairs, his black cape billowing behind him. Hermione found she had to run a little to keep up. "Come, Professor Granger," he called over his shoulder, and Hermione found the tone of his voice to be gratingly similar to one that might be used to call a pet. "We do not wish to make the students wait. By the way, you look like a Muggle in that get-up." He made the designation sound like something filthy.

Right, that's it, Hermione thought grimly. She ran two steps ahead of him and stopped in the middle of the corridor, blocking his way. Her eyes flashed in anger. "I think it's about time we got something clear, Severus. What I wear or do not wear is none of your business!" she fumed. "You would never speak to Minerva that way! Nor Pomona, nor-- nor Filius!" She had been about to say Remus, but then realized that, yes, Snape would probably say such a thing to Remus...and worse.

Snape folded his arms across his chest and looked down his long and hooked nose at Hermione. "Au contraire," he countered archly, "I most certainly would point out the impropriety of such attire to any teacher assigned to chaperone a student event with me. You are not on your free time here, Professor, you are representing Hogwarts to the public, and not only that, but you are also setting an example for the students. However, you are correct in saying that I would not make that statement to Minerva, Pomona, or Filius...but only because none of them would have dreamt in their wildest dreams of putting on such...clothing, if I may call it that. You should be grateful that I have pointed it out to you, so that you don't make such a fool of yourself a second time. Unfortunately, you don't have time to change now. You have made us late." And with that, he stepped neatly around her and took the stairs two at a time.

Ah, that one was almost embarrassingly easy. Although she will set herself up, with those Muggle mannerisms.

She? Made them late? The nerve-- Hermione scrabbled up the stairs, once again breathing heavily by the time she reached the top. Her plait was coming loose now, too, but she didn't have time to re-do it, so just pushed the hair back out of her face and charged after Snape.

Snape cut a swath through the crowd of students and made directly for the door, where Angelina, Filch, and the largest concentration of students were congregated.

"Ah, there y'are, Professor," Filch croaked, an ingratiating leer forming on his face. "I've checked everyone against the list. Griggle and Pudnut here tried to sneak past me, but I caught 'em." He pulled two boys forward by their collars and thrust them at Snape. They were first-years by the looks of them, and scared to death. Filch's leer widened hopefully. "I thought you might want to give 'em detention?"

Snape exhaled briefly through his nose. "Twenty points from Hufflepuff," he intoned, then turned to the unfortunate captives. "Griggle, Pudnut, first-years are not allowed to leave the school grounds. I suggest you use the afternoon to get to work on your Potions assignment."

"Yes, sir," they both whispered, their eyes large, yet clearly relieved to have got off so easily.

Filch released them, disappointment written all over his leathery face.

"If that's all then?" Snape asked imperiously. Filch nodded sadly. "Then let's get this over with," Snape growled, throwing the double doors wide and leading the way out across the grounds.

"What happened down there?" Angelina asked Hermione as the two of them waited for all the students to exit the castle.

"What do you mean?"

Angelina looked Hermione up and down. "You're all out of breath, your hair's mussed, and your cheeks are red... And he didn't give those two detention! If I didn't know better, I'd say you and ol' Greaseball'd had a quickie down in the dungeon."

Hermione looked at Angelina in horror. She couldn't tell whether she was joking or not. It also bothered her that she, a teacher, had used such an insulting term to refer to Snape. But that was secondary. "Angelina! Bite your tongue!" she scolded, aghast. "He started insulting me, and I had to take a stand."

"Oh." Angelina nodded with a knowing smile. "Had your first run-in with him, did you?"

"It was hardly my first. But it was the first time I decided not to take it anymore."

They caught up the rear of the group, herding stragglers down the road in the right direction. "So what'd you do? Langlock? Bat Bogey Hex?" Angelina asked with wicked anticipation.

"No, I simply made it clear that I was no longer one of his students to be bullied and intimidated," Hermione explained self-righteously.

"And that worked?" Angelina asked, obviously skeptical that simple words had had any impact whatsoever.

"Well..." Hermione said uncertainly, "to a degree." Actually, he had managed to turn it around and put her even more firmly in the place to which he seemed to have relegated her. But she didn't need to go into detail.

"Hmfph," Angelina sniffed. "You'd better give it up, girl. He isn't worth the trouble."

"And what do you do when he starts on you?" Hermione asked curiously.

"He doesn't anymore," Angelina said with a shrug.

"How did you manage that?" Hermione asked, impressed.

"When I first got here, he was also all 'Quidditch is worthless' and 'Proper wizards Apparate, they don't fly'," she mimicked, doing a worthy imitation of Snape's deep and haughty voice, "but I told him to..." She kissed her hand airily, slapped it against her rear, and wiggled her fingers at an imaginary Snape.

"You didn't!" Hermione giggled.

"Didn't I now? He's air to me, baby, nothing but the Evil Bat of the Dungeons." She grinned at Hermione, obviously pleased with her joke.

Hermione frowned. "I don't think you should call him that," she said.

"What, Evil Bat? I admit, it doesn't have the air of Greasy Git. Remember? That's what we used to call him when we were students."

"Angelina, we're talking about a professor here, one of our colleagues," Hermione reprimanded her.

"We're talking about Snape!" Angelina exclaimed. "If he can't take it, he shouldn't dish it out!"

"Maybe he only dishes it out, as you so pithily put it, because it's all anyone ever serves up to him. Have you considered that?"

"I can't believe you're defending him. Are you sure he didn't cast some sort of charm on you?" Angelina stopped walking and peered closely at Hermione's eyes. "Give you something to drink, did he?"

"Oh, stop it." Hermione brushed crossly past Angelina. "I just don't think it's right to be disrespectful to him. I mean, look, he's a hero, after all."

Angelina's snort was loud and indignant. She took a couple of long strides and caught up easily with Hermione. "A hero! What, do you mean that stuff we heard about him leading Harry to You-Know-Who?"

"Yes, and not only that, but all the years he delivered information to the Order on the Death Eaters' doings. And how he protected Harry, saved his life more than once? He put his own life on the line over and over, and all anyone has to say to him is 'Evil Bat'. I think that's simply reprehensible."

"I don't know whose version you've been listening to. Anything that man ever did was to serve his own interests and save his own skin. Maybe he did end up doing things that turned out to be beneficial, but if so, it was through no virtue of his own. I promise you, the man's no saint."

"I'm not saying he is. I know he's unpleasant. But I don't think people give him enough credit. Maybe if they did, he wouldn't be so unpleasant."

"You know what this is reminding me of?" Angelina said, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her.

"No, what?"

"Spew."

"Excuse me?" Had Angelina just indicated a need to vomit?

"You know, that petition you started to get people to be nicer to house-elves . . . back when we were students."

"Oh," Hermione laughed. "You mean S.P.E.W." She was impressed that Angelina had remembered that, given that no one aside from Harry or Ron had ever joined, and they had only done it as a personal favour.

"That's it." Angelina nodded, amused. "I suppose you always did have a soft spot for ugly creatures with big noses and bad attitudes."

"Angelina..." Hermione began warningly, but her eyes were laughing.

Angelina held up her hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I'll leave him alone, I promise. At least I'll try to."

"Thanks."

xOxOxOx

The day was turning out nicer than Hermione had expected, given the rocky start. Soon after they arrived at Hogsmeade, the heavy cloud cover started to thin out, giving glimpses of blue streaks which did wonders to buoying up Hermione's mood.

Angelina went to the broommaker's first, while Hermione strolled along the High Street, trying to take in all the sights and smells while keeping an eye out for potentially wayward students. Snape was nowhere to be seen. Hermione figured he was probably sitting at a back table of the Boar's Head, nursing a Firewhiskey and hoping the day would end quickly. It must be quite sad, after all, to have everyone hating you, calling you names, and spurning your company. Hermione almost found herself feeling sympathy for him. Then she remembered how he had belittled her at the Heads of House meeting, and the sympathy dried up and was replaced by the makings of a grudge. But then she considered that she should be the bigger person; she was a Gryffindor, after all. Hot on the tail of that thought, however, was the memory of the condescending tone of voice he had taken with her that morning, and she decided to stop thinking about the Potions master altogether and enjoy her day.

Zonko's was still there, the shop having been re-opened after the War, but with a large portion of their shop window devoted to items Hermione recognized as being Weasley products: Skiving Snackboxes, Headless Hats, fake wands, and a large assortment of magical fireworks. There were also apparently some new items, including Ventrilofarts and -belches, 'Lurve' Kits (Hermione shuddered to think) and Mini-Time-Turners that looked like egg timers. Hermione wondered whether these actually worked and, if so, how they had got Ministry approval to market them. It certainly looked like Fred and George were well on their way to fame and wealth. Good for them. She almost went in to have a browse, but then decided that her presence might dampen the students' enthusiasm for purchasing items meant to disrupt instruction, and she didn't feel like being a spoil sport today. The students were probably going to use their loot in Potions rather than in her class, anyway, she thought smugly, then immediately felt guilty for having done so.

She had always found History of Magic to be a fascinating subject, but so dreadfully taught by Professor Binns as to make even her welcome such distractions as offered themselves. That was why she had vowed never to lecture a class when she became a teacher. She invented games, brought in guest speakers (mostly ghosts, although only ones with interesting stories to tell), assigned group projects for the students to present themselves, encouraged role playing, arranged sound-and-picture shows (adapted from Muggle-produced movies), and organised field trips, among many others. As far as she could tell, the students were generally interested in the subject, or at least remained reasonably alert and on-task during classtime and turned in most of their assignments on time. It wasn't a flashy subject like Charms or Transfiguration (as Hagrid had pointed out), but that didn't mean it wasn't an important part of a young witch or wizard's education. And it didn't hurt that she felt completely competent to teach it.

She and Angelina caught up with each other for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta was still there, obviously also having been forgiven for her role in Draco's plot, given that she had been under the Imperius Curse at the time. She seemed more subdued than Hermione remembered her being, however, her clothing more modest, sombre, not as flamboyant (or tawdry, as Hermione had thought of it). The place was full of students, and Hermione found herself looking around to see whether Snape were there as well, but she couldn't see him. They enjoyed a Mulligatawny stew and a couple of Butterbeers, then headed back out into the town.

The sun still had not been able to break completely through the tenacious layer of low cloud cover, but the blue patches were growing larger. They decided to make the rounds of the usual student haunts, just to check up that nothing was amiss. Their tour took them to Madam Puddifoot's (where several young couples jerked apart abashedly upon the professors' entrance); Honeydukes (where Hermione couldn't help buying a bag of coconut ices); Scrivenshaft's (which was very nearly devoid of students, although Hermione's personally could have happily spent the better part of the afternoon there); the Boar's Head (where Snape was not in evidence, although a small group of fifth- and sixth-years were, huddled in a corner and apparently trying to hide something from view; upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a pack of Smutty Sorceresses playing cards; Hermione handed them back to the owner, but not without first glimpsing some very smutty sorceresses indeed); Gladrags (where a gaggle of Slytherin girls was hogging the changing rooms); Scopson's (where it seemed nearly the entire male student body and a goodly number of the females were crammed, admiring the latest model of the Comet); and, finally, a pass by the Shrieking Shack, which gave Hermione a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach as she remembered their confrontation with Peter Pettigrew, at which she personally (along with Harry and Ron) had attacked Snape and rendered him unconscious. She'd never properly apologized for that, she realized.

By the time they got back to the High Street, the sun was getting low and students were starting to wander back towards the castle. "Where is Professor Snape?" Hermione frowned. "We haven't seen hide nor hair of him all day."

"And what a pleasant day it was," Angelina sighed. Catching a grumpy look from Hermione, she laughed and said, "Come on, it was!"

"Yes, all right," Hermione admitted, "it was, but still, I wonder where he has got off to. You don't think he actually doubled back and spent the entire day at the castle?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"What do you think? Should we wait a little longer, or go back without him?"

"Why don't we start rounding up the students, remind them they need to be back by five. Maybe he'll crop up in the meantime."

Hermione was about to start up the street again when Angelina pulled out a silver whistle on a chain around her neck and blew into it. The intensity of the tone was piercing, yet not painful to the ears. It must have been heard all over the village.

"Quidditch whistle?" Hermione asked.

"Yup," Angelina said with a grin. "I told them when I checked them out this morning to listen for it, means they'd better head back."

"Ingenious."

"Why thank you." She did a neat little bow.

The whistle seemed to have had its intended effect, as a minor flood of students spilled out of the shops and into the road towards Hogwarts. Among the youthful mops and carefully coiffed dos, the jet-black head of Severus Snape bobbed into view.

"There he is," Hermione announced to Angelina with some relief, although she didn't know why. Probably because she wouldn't have to go looking for him again.

"I'll say," Angelina said in a low voice. "And did you see where he came from?"

"No."

"That lane over there on the right...just past Scrivenshaft's." Angelina leaned over to speak close to Hermione's ear.

Hermione looked where Angelina indicated, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "What's over there?"

"Don't you know?"

"Enlighten me."

"Well, I could be wrong, of course...but that's where Lenore's place is."

"Who's Lenore?"

Angelina fixed Hermione with a look that might have indicated either awe or pity. "You really didn't do anything but study at school did you?"

Hermione frowned; it was true, she had had basically no social life at school, but then that wasn't the reason for attendance, in her opinion. "Never mind that," she said, "do you want to tell me what you're on about?"

"Lenore is...someone that men go to...for relief...from a certain pressing problem." Angelina looked hard at Hermione.

Realization dawned on Hermione. She opened her mouth in shock. She glanced in the direction of Snape, who was now dangerously close to being within hearing range. "But you don't think that he..." she hissed.

"Hey..." Angelina shrugged matter-of-factly. "He's a man. And how else is he going to...you know. It's not like any woman in her right mind would actually freely--"

But Angelina cut herself off in midsentence and Hermione was spared from coming up with an alternative for Snape to 'you know' by the arrival of the man in question.

"Splendid," he said on approach, looking actually much more chipper than Hermione thought she had ever seen him. "It looks like another Hogsmeade weekend has been completed without loss of life or limb. If you two would take up the rear." And without slowing his pace, he continued past them into the road.