Zephyr

Chapter Six

The New Term

The beginning of the new school year, as always, was hectic. The first years were particularly boisterous and excited rather than scared and nervous. It was probably due to the fact that Sprout was the one to greet them in the Great Hall when they arrived. Minerva had requested that Severus should be the one to greet them, but Dumbledore insisted that having Severus as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was frightening enough for the newcomers than to have him greet them at the front door, as well. Severus was quite content with that decision. He never enjoyed welcoming the little rats anyway.

The Sorting Feast went fairly well or at least without any mishaps. All the children were sorted into their appropriate Houses and were then led by their Head of House to their common rooms. The first years found Dumbledore's speech before the Sorting Feast rather intriguing--the Forbidden Forest in particular. They were also aware that the hooked-nose Professor with the murderous look in his eyes was one not to be trifled with. The Slytherin first years were especially scared when their upperclassmen informed them that Snape was their Head of House.

"Piss him off on the first day," said the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Stephen French, "and he'll turn you into an elf and send you to the kitchens to slave away with the others. And trust me; the last thing you want to get turned into is an elf. They're hairy, smelly, undernourished, and have more fleas than the gamekeeper."

"The gamekeeper's got fleas?" said Jake Wanostrocht, a muggle first year who was shaking from head to toe."

"Haven't you noticed that he's a giant?"

"G-giant?"

"Yeah," he whispered, "we've got giants, werewolves, centaurs, elves, half-plants" he said in mock reference to Professor Sprout, "ghosts, trolls; you name it we've got it, oh, and Snape." Poor Jake was as pale as the Bloody Baron. Stephen and his clique had a ball frightening Jake till he actually cried. From that day on he was always bullied among the Slytherins and teased as 'Mandrake Jake, or Sniffles.' Of course, you couldn't expect anything less from Stephen and his clique of Slytherins. They thrived on bullying the underclassmen, especially Slytherins with Gryffindor traits. The two Houses were ever contending and never getting along. It seemed to get worse each year. To list the number of pranks pulled between the two Houses last year would be as time-consuming as counting the stars. This year seemed to be no different; the Seventh years were just as savage and boorish as the mountain giants, and were looking forward to as much chaos for the new term as they did the previous years.

Stephen French was as nasty and unruly as any Malfoy--seeing as how he was related to them--and his best friend, Sarco Montague was slick, sly, and horny. He bedded nearly anything that walked and had a hole. Stephen was pickier, preferring only to bed those who played hard-to-get and were actually worth a second glance. Annessa Bailey had been on top of his list since his first year, but his attempts to pull had only made her despise him even more than she did before.

"Hey, babe," he called out as she passed him and his clique of desperados.

"Bite me, Stephen!" she drawled slightly. Michelle Grey, her best friend, shot him a look of distaste.

"Gods Stephen, could you be even more petty than you already are?"

"What? You want some of this, too," he countered as he grabbed his crotch and groped it in a disgusting manner.

"You stupid fuck!" Michelle snapped. Her remark only earned a series of barks from Sarco and him. They barked like dogs in heat and anxious to mate. The large group of girls flanking Michelle and Annessa seemed to find the two boys' behavior rather attractive and funny--all except Michelle and Annessa, of course. They had more class than the group of sycophantic fans that usually tagged along with them. There was not one student at Hogwarts that was worthy of Annessa's attention. There was-- however a particular someone who she felt was worthy of her, and had been for some time.

********

The first week was the most tedious for Hermione. Going through the most basic knowledge for Potions-making was very irritating. 'I should not have to be teaching this,' she thought to herself. 'This is very simple material that should have been covered over the summer.' Hermione thought the first years should have studied or at least looked over the book before their first term started. When her class of first years came in, she gave the same speech she had been giving for the past two years:

"I am your Potions Mistress, Hermione Granger. You may address me as Professor Granger, or Ma'am. I will lay rules in my class that I expect each and every one of you to abide by and respect. I will not tolerate any childish behavior in my dungeons and will see to it that you are disciplined for any misbehavior. I will also deduct points from your respective Houses if you are ever to break or disrespect myself or my rules. Dare to disrupt my class, and I will dismiss you so you can spend your valuable time elsewhere. I expect all homework to be completed before it is turned in. There should be no reason to not finish, do, lose, or forget your homework. Ever! Unless it is a matter of life or death, only then will it be excused, and you will be given one chance and exactly twelve hours to complete and turn in your homework. If you fail to do your assignments, I will make sure that you have twice the homework than everyone else who took the time to complete their assignments.

"Quidditch, Quidditch matches, or tryouts are absolutely no reason to abandon your homework. I will especially deduct points for anyone who dares to use it as an excuse. Potions is a very complicated and intricate subject. Master it and you will become an artist; fail, and it will only result in a slash of your overall grade. It will require the best of your knowledge and all of your attention. Fail to do so, and it could result in injuries and possibly death. If you think that you can pass this class by writing down a few notes and tossing a few roots into a pot, then you are in for a surprise. Every potion I assign will be challenging. Add the wrong ingredient at the wrong time, and you can blow up your cauldron and injure yourself as well as your partner and those around you.

"Every little detail matters; how you stir your potion, the ingredients you use, how much you add, and the exact time you toss them in. These are all important factors to a successful potion. If you are not vigilant, you are sure to fail this class. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask me, your partner, or another classmate. Do not, and I repeat, do not mix, brew, or add anything to your potion if you are unsure of the result. There are many ingredients in my cupboard that will detonate immediately in your cauldron if they are added together.

"All the needed ingredients will be found in the back cupboard. The cauldrons will be left on the desk when the class is over. And I expect all of you to return the ingredients back into the cupboards after each lesson. If I ever catch anyone sneak into my dungeons, steal my ingredients, or vandalize my classroom, I will deduct fifty points from their Houses, and put them in detention for a whole week. If you respect these rules, pay attention, and complete all homework then everything should be fine. If you have any questions, ask them now before we begin our class."

The entire class was dead silent and pinned frozen in their seats as Hermione's brief speech scared them witless. If they thought they were frightened before, they were mistaken. Hermione knew her first impression on them was most important: if she did not come down on them hard, she was sure to have trouble with them in the future. She understood how they felt and how frightening it was to be a first year, but this was necessary to ensure an undisrupted class and that they left each day having learned something new. She had done a good job scaring them, though she had almost pitied them when she remembered that they had not had Snape yet.

** ** ** **

Snape's first class for the day was the seventh year Gryffindors, his most preferable bunch to taunt and torment. He was grateful he did not have any first years till after lunch. He despised giving his first speech. He especially despised first years. They were like babies right out of the cradle: whiny, unlearned, and immature. It was his job to snap them out of their reverie and introduce them to the real world. Oh, goody, he thought sardonically.

Snape walked in to a quiet and still classroom. His students had a lot of practice and knew very well what they should do to make it through his class alive. They kept their mouths shut, remained completely still, and prayed that he did not call upon them during class. Snape stood before the stock-still class and made sure they got a shot of his sullen expression before reprimanding them for no reason at all.

"Is there a reason you are all lounging around without your quills and texts out, or are you all too brilliant for my class?" The students quickly rummaged through their bags for their quills, and texts as Snape stood impatiently before them with his arms folded. If there was one thing he despised more than teaching first years, it was teaching seventh years that acted like them.

"Turn your texts to page 32; I don't want any interruption for the first half of the class. If you have any questions, keep them to yourselves. If your brains are too slow to register the information at the speed that I give it, then remove yourself from my class immediately. I do not want you to waste my valuable time. I have barely enough patience with just having to look at your faces; don't try it by wasting my time." When no one stood up to leave, he continued on with his class.

"Good. Write down these notes and memorize them by tomorrow morning. I will give an extensive quiz on the cataclysm of magic on Wednesday. To defend yourselves from the curses of Dark Magic is to learn its dark arts and its calamities," he said with extreme austerity and obvious dislike for the students. Snape noticed his class was deathly silent--too silent for even his class; he could possibly hear a pin if it were to drop. He glared ominously at the devious brats trying extremely hard to look interested in what he was saying and sneered at their cheap attempts to trick him. "Well, what are you all waiting around for? Are you writing this down, or do you want me to do that for you, as well?" As hard as Snape tried to find one student who dared to look him in the eyes, he could not find one. They had all learned from past experience how to look straight at him with feigned attention while avoiding his steely eyes.

"Miss Mae!" he snapped. Ehlaana Mae looked up to see the piercing glare of her professor and shook before he had the chance to tear her down. Miss Mae was an easy target for him. She was so cumbersome and uncoordinated; Snape could never resist scaring the wits out of her. What she lacked in grace she made up for in dramatic misfortunes. Her very breathing was so tense one would think she had murdered someone. If she were not a Mae, one would think she descended from the Longbottom family tree.

"Miss Mae, what is the difference between black arts and black magic?" A simple question, probably the simplest thing he had ever asked a student. But one could not count on Miss Mae to get it right.

"S-sorry S-sir, w-what was your q-question?" she trembled. Snape's sullen expression had turned into a menacing glare.

"Remind me, Miss Mae why someone with a brain the size of a gillyweed was appointed Head Girl of this Institution!" Poor Ehlaana was so frightened and embarrassed she could not have said a word if she were under the Impediment Curse.

"In what circumstances would you need to use an extinguishing spell when there is absolutely no fire around?" he continued. He knew the student would not get even the simplest question. Whether she did not know or was too afraid to answer, he did not care in the least. He just wanted to embarrass her and show the class that she could not answer at least one 'first year' question of the many queries he asked. "What particular creature dwells in a fire pool, Miss Mae? And what creature would you be facing if you were to cast a Severing charm immediately after a Silencing Charm." When Ehlaana did not answer he grew very angry and impatient.

"Is there anything, Miss Mae, that you do know?" Tears had formed in the Head Girl's eyes, and the entire class felt nothing but sympathy for her. But even they would not dare to stand up to Snape and his despisal for Miss Mae. Their Gryffindor qualities did not quite kick in when they entered Snape's classroom. And although Miss Mae was a Gryffindor and a part of their House, that was no great reason to get reprimanded and embarrassed by Snape, especially when he seemed particularly mad or nervous about something. Ehlaana was trying extremely hard to stop the tears from flowing out of her eyes, but the harder she tried the more she cried and she knew this only fed Snape's dislike for her. "Answer me, Miss Mae! Why do you even bother to return to school when your brain clearly lacks intellect and the basic ability to function?" This had done it for Miss Mae. She was sobbing convulsively in her hands, trying as hard as she could to cover her flushed face from the entire class. She stood up quickly to run for the door, only to trip on her way there. Her eyes were so bleary she could barely see where she was going. She hastily stood up and made her way for the door, again only to be stopped by Snape.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked harshly. Ehlaana turned and stared with dreadful eyes, unsure of how to respond. The one time she actually dared to run out of class--and Snape's class--no less, she got stopped by him and embarrassed some more.

"Well? Where do you think you're going?"

"I-I--

"What?" he asked with an arched brow.

"P-please, P-proff--

"Sit down!"

"B-b-but--

"I said," he demanded, "SIT DOWN!" Ehlaana obediently returned to her seat, feeling completely humiliated. As hard as she tried, she could not stop crying. The knot in her chest lingered there throughout the entire class, reminding her of her humiliation and hurt, making the tears flow more freely from her eyes. Snape was relentless, and he was feeling particularly angry or nervous about something that day.

How Snape managed to drag himself through each class was beyond him. He wondered why he put himself through such torture. His blasted students were as unbearable as the Cruciatus Curse, and he would have gladly suffered two curses at the moment than the tedium of teaching such dull-headed students. If it were not for Dumbledore, he would have wrung someone's neck by now.

There was no doubt in Severus' mind that it was going to be a long year for him; an extremely long year indeed.

** ** ** **

The first half of the day was over. There was a buzz of excitement in the Great Hall during lunch. Hermione overheard some of the students gossiping as she was walking towards her seat at the high table. Apparently, a student who was excused to go to the rest room during his first class had caught a glimpse of a visitor who had arrived with Dumbledore. "He was tall with silver hair," she heard one say. "No, she was a veela and was accompanied by the Minister," was another, and her favorite: "She's here to replace Professor Granger." Hermione figured the new student from Beauxbatons had arrived with Dumbledore, and she was devilishly eager to see the looks of disappointment on her students' faces when they realized that she wasn't going anywhere...yet.

Snape was not in his seat during lunch. Hermione wondered why, though she told herself repeatedly that she could not care less what that man did. Dumbledore was chatting cheerfully with Hagrid about the new term and how the day was when Hermione realized she had forgotten the Graveweed Potion Hagrid had asked her to brew for his thestrals. She cursed inwardly, as she knew that it would take her nearly half her lunch break to get down to the dungeons and back with the potion; by then, she'd barely have time to sniff her food. She could get it for him later on, but Hagrid had asked her for it two days ago, and she did not want to look as if she had not brewed the potion. So reluctantly, Hermione turned around and headed for her dungeons.

When Hermione arrived at her dungeons, she unwarded her doors, grabbed the potion, and was just about to head back up to the Great Hall for lunch when her foot hit the leg of one of her desks. Hermione tripped and fell flat on her face, smashing the Graveweed potion all over the hard floor. She cursed out loud as the stench from the potion reeked in her dungeons. She incanted 'Scourgify' and quickly cleaned up the mess on the floor. She threw her cupboards open and snatched the needed ingredients to make a new batch for Hagrid. She was sure to miss lunch. 'But it wouldn't be the first time,' she thought. 'Damn Hagrid and his thestrals.'

With a quick swish of her wand, Hermione's cauldron was heated, and she threw the dry ingredients into the pot to boil. It took her a few minutes to chop up her porcupine quills, scarab beetles, and daisy root. She especially hated mixing the fluxweed juice with the Atropine. It made for a poisonous concoction that would burn a hole through one's throat if one were to drink it, and gave off an awful stench. After fifteen minutes she lowered the heat and brought it to a simmer before turning it off and placing a cooling charm on the cauldron. The potion would have to sit for several hours before it was ready. Hermione stowed the ingredients back in the cupboard before cleaning up and put a protection charm on Hagrid's potion; she would wring somebody's neck if she had to redo the potion again. With that, Hermione warded her doors again and headed back up to the Great Hall to eat whatever was left of lunch.

On her way up, Hermione stopped abruptly in the corridor on the west wing of the first floor when she heard a muffled cry. She followed the direction of the cry when it brought her to a hidden nook beside a stone statue of an ancient looking elf holding a scepter. A tiny figure was crouched on the floor. Hermione nudged the figure gently, and was met with sad brown eyes that reminded her of herself when she was a student. She recognized the girl as Miss Ehlaana Mae, the new Head Girl. Her tear stained face was a deep blush and the tip of her nose was swollen red.

"Miss Mae, what on earth are you doing down there?" she asked the distraught student. "What's the matter; has something happened to you?" The young lady shook her head in reply as she stood up.

"I'm sorry, Professor Granger; I didn't mean to miss lunch, I just--"

"Why are you hiding here? Did someone hurt you?"

"I wasn't hiding, Professor," she said softly, the tears still spilling down her face.

"Well then, what are you doing here?" she asked firmly, hoping she would get a straight answer.

"I was p-pushed, Professor," she lied. "S-someone shoved me in here and I banged my head on the stone scepter." Ehlaana softly brushed her fringe from her forehead and showed Hermione the deep cut above her brow. Ehlaana was so eager to hide in the small niche she was in she accidentally bumped her head on the stone scepter. Hermione believed her and was furious with the uncouth behavior of her students. She shook her head and helped Ehlaana out of the tight niche she was in.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Mae. Did you catch who did this to you?" Ehlaana shook her head tentatively as Hermione led her up to the infirmary. "Are you sure, Ehlaana? You don't have to protect them, you know. This type of behavior is not tolerated in this school. You have the title of Head Girl; you should be respected, Miss Mae, not shoved into a corner."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I swear I don't know who it was that pushed me."

"Well, if you ever find out who it is, please inform me or the Deputy Headmistress. I will let her know what happened." Hermione was startled when Ehlaana hastily grabbed on to her arm.

"Oh, you're not going to tell anyone else about this, are you Professor?" Hermione felt sorry for the poor girl; she reminded Hermione so much of herself when she was in Hogwarts. If it were not for Harry and Ron, she had no idea how she would have made it through the first year. She wished Miss Mae would get a Harry and Ron just like she did. 'Well, it's her last year, and she's managed to get through the previous six alive,' Hermione thought. But she still wished things would go slightly better for Ehlaana this year than they had before.

"Now, go inside and inform Madame Pomfrey of what happened. I'll need to go back to my dungeons; class will be starting soon." Ehlaana nodded before Hermione left her. It had been yet another day where Hermione missed lunch. 'I'm bound to miss more throughout the term,' she thought when the bell rang for class. She would just have to call on Winky tonight when she returned to her quarters.

She hated calling on Winky. Just looking at the elf brought back painful feelings and memories. It had been a long time ago when she broke down completely in her private quarters as Head Girl, and Winky was the only one there to comfort her. Of all the people, she would have never thought that Winky would be the one to comfort her in her greatest time of need. Winky was still the only living creature who knew about her ugly past, and she trusted that the elf would never say a word about it to anyone. But despite her love for the elf, Hermione could not pretend she did not hurt each time she looked at Winky. The elf triggered so many emotions that Hermione avoided calling on her as much as she could. Tonight she would not have a choice. She would have to watch over Hagrid's potion and make sure it was not defective when she gave it to Hagrid. Therefore, she would be missing her dinner as well. The day seemed to drag on, and nothing seemed to be going well for Hermione's first day back for the new term.

** ** ** ** **

That night, just as she expected, Hermione missed her dinner so she could stay in her dungeons and monitor the progress of the Graveweed potion she had promised Hagrid. She did not really need to be there, but it was a good thing she had decided to stay behind anyway, because the fumes from the Atropine she had added had somehow caused the cooling charm she had cast around the potion to wear off. If the potion had sat for more than an hour above 30 degrees Celsius, it would have detonated in her dungeons. Hermione had cast another cooling charm and added more water to her potion before she covered it again and cast a protection charm over it, just in case someone decided to sneak into her class for some ingredients. After being friends with Harry and Ron, she expected the worse from her students. After an hour of grading some homework while she waited for the potion to be ready, Hermione felt her stomach rumbling as it signaled its hunger to her mind. Hermione had held off on calling Winky, and finally gave in when she felt she could pass out if she did not get anything to eat.

"Winky," she called out softly. Instantly, Winky showed up with a huge smile on her face and a tray of food.

"Winky is waiting all night for you to call, Miss. Winky knows you isn't eating tonight, so Winky brings you food." The elf carefully placed the tray of food on her desk before sitting across from her desk to watch her eat. Hermione thanked her as she took the bowl of soup and ate. She started to feel uncomfortable with Winky sitting across from her table, staring at her while she ate.

"Is there anything else, Winky?" she said politely.

"No, Miss, Winky is sitting here and waiting till Miss is finish. Winky is very worried about Miss Granger." Hermione knew very well where this was going.

"Winky, please, I don't want to get into it right now with you."

"Winky isn't getting into anything, Miss Granger," she squeaked softly. "Winky is being a very good friend to you; Winky takes care of you." Hermione couldn't help but feel grateful for the elf's loyalty and compassion towards her. So she allowed the elf to sit there and stare as she ate. Hermione had been quietly eating her soup for a few minutes when she was startled by Winky.

"Winky really missed you, Miss," she said out of the blue. Hermione looked up to meet big brown sympathetic eyes. She didn't know how to respond to that. She loved Winky, though she had a feeling Winky was trying to say something, but was reluctant.

"Winky, what's wrong?"

"Oh! Nothing, Miss, nothing at all; Winky is so happy to see Miss Granger and take care of her."

"Well, you know I've been here for a while now, Winky. Two years to be exact."

"Yes, but Miss never calls for Winky. Winky is waiting patiently every night for Miss to call her, but Winky waits and waits and never--."

"I've called you before, Winky," she said through spoonfuls of soup.

"Only that much," the elf responded as she held up four fingers; two on the left and two on the right. Hermione felt guilty and knew then that Winky had been worrying about her all those years. She knew the elf wanted to bring up the past and ask how she had been doing since, but Hermione had already gotten over that and would be damned if she brought it all up again. She was long over it. It was a mistake that could have been prevented if she were not so gullible and eager to fall in love. She no longer cared about that part of her life, she told herself repeatedly at night and in her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Winky, but I'm teaching Potions now and it's very time-consuming. I have to teach during the day and test potions all night. I also have to brew potions for the Infirmary, and the Gamekeeper, as well as anyone else who needs it. I barely have time to sit and think, but I do think about you all the time," she lied.

"Oh, and Winky is thinking of Miss all the time too." Hermione smiled at the elf and left it at that. She was eager to finish her soup and leave their conversation where it was before it went further in to the topic of her past.

"Why did Miss come back?" Hermione looked up in surprise, unable to make a reply. She shook her head slightly and shrugged.

"Minerva asked me to, Winky; I said no, of course, but in the end she manipulated me into coming. She said it was just until they find a replacement, and it's been over two years and I haven't seen a replacement yet."

"That is not right to bring Miss back. Miss McGonagall is wrong to--"

"Winky, it's okay. She doesn't know about that, and I would really appreciate it if you and I never talk about it. Ever!" They both remained silent and Hermione felt bad for snapping at Winky; she had suddenly lost her appetite. Hermione pushed her food away as the elf quickly went for it. Hermione thanked her and sent her away. Reluctantly, Winky obeyed and left.

Just when Hermione thought she could finally head for her quarters and retire, there was a knock at the door. Hermione unwarded the large oak doors and opened them to see Dumbledore standing outside. "Did I come in a bad time?" the Headmaster asked.

"No, I was just about to head to my room. Is something wrong?"

"No, no, we all missed you at dinner."

"I'm very sorry; I had to brew a potion for Hagrid. It's for the thestrals and he needed it right away."

"There is no need to apologize, Hermione. I have come down to inform you that the new student from Beauxbatons arrived today and will be starting his classes tomorrow. I had already introduced him at dinner in the Great Hall. He received a very good reaction from the children, and I think that he will get along fine here."

"Where will he stay?"

"He has been sorted into the Gryffindor House."

"Gryffindor; interesting! I'll be looking forward to meeting..."

"Mr. Thierry," Minerva supplemented, as she came down the stairs. "Nicolas Thierry." Hermione and Albus turned to the side to see Minerva walking towards them.

"Minerva, is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked as she arrived at the door.

"No, I just came to have a word with Hermione." Hermione had dreaded this all week and last. She had a feeling she knew exactly what her inquisitive colleague wanted to talk about.

"Very well, then," said Dumbledore before he turned to leave. "I will leave you two ladies to your chat. I just came to inform you, dear, that Mr. Thierry will be in class tomorrow."

"Thank you. Good night!"
"Good night, dear." Albus placed a soft kiss on Minerva's cheek before he left the two women to stare quietly at each other.

"Well, woman, are you going to invite me in, or leave me standing here to stare at the grime accumulating on your hinges?" Hermione reluctantly pushed her doors open and gestured for Minerva to step inside. She hoped for the older woman's sake that she had not come to talk about what she suspected she came to see her for.

"Is something wrong, Minerva?" she drawled slightly.

"Yes! Now sit down child, I'm not going anywhere until I've had my talk with you."

"Can it wait, because I'm knackered from all the fun I've had today?" she said sarcastically, clearly not in the mood for the character assassination she was sure to get out of the hour-long questioning her Head of House came for.

"Hermione," Minerva said sternly, "sit down!" It was clearly a demand, and Hermione, having been respectful of this woman her whole childhood, sauntered over to her desk and sat down.

"I'm worried about you, and I don't want to hear you say that you're fine. I know something has been bothering you, and I want to know what it is. Now, Albus has told me to steer clear from you and to not question you and your sudden disappearance all those years--" Hermione looked disbelievingly towards Minerva when she said this.

"--yes, Hermione, Albus had asked me to leave you alone when you finally agreed to work here, but I can't sit around anymore and wait for you to open up to me and tell me what is wrong with you."

Hermione could not believe what she was hearing. She was too angry with the older woman prying into her business to say anything. She could not decide if she wanted to scream or tell Minerva that it was not her concern what she did with her life.

"What's wrong with me?" she repeated appallingly. "Tell me, Minerva what it is exactly that is wrong with me! I would surely love to know."

"Oh don't you play green with me, child. You're spiteful when someone shows the slightest concern for you--

"Well, it does get tiring, you know," she countered quickly as Minerva went on.

"--you're never at dinner--"

"I'm a Potions mistress, Minerva; I have potions to brew," she said cynically.

"You're as cynical as an old hag."

"And what do you have against old hags?" she said surprisingly though the older woman ignored her every counter as she went on reprimanding her younger colleague.

"You don't smile, you don't laugh, and you never have fun."

"And when exactly do you want me to be jovial, Minerva? Is it when I'm putting my students in detention or sitting through one of you and Percy's biweekly rows?"

"What have I done to you to make you so angry with me?"

"Not everything is about you, Minerva."

"Then talk to me, Child."

"There is nothing to talk about." The two women had gotten louder and louder, their voices bouncing off the dungeon walls as they argued suddenly without quite realizing it. Hermione had never dreamt that she would ever raise her voice to McGonagall, but the older woman's constant intrusion into her business had angered her immensely. They were both so angry they had not realized they were shouting at each other.

"If there really isn't anything to talk about, then why are you so bitter?"

"Why haven't you found my replacement?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Is that what this is about, a replacement?"

"Why, Minerva? Why did you lie? Why did you go through all that trouble lying to me just to get me here?"

"--Because Dumbledore wanted you here; I don't know why, but that's what he wanted."

"So there will be no replacement, then?"

"If you want a replacement, I will get you one," she said, slightly hurt. "I just don't understand why you can't stand being here."

"Well, I'm here aren't I, and I'm doing my job. I don't see what the problem is."

"Do you think that we just want you here to teach? If we needed a professor for Potions we could easily get one, Hermione. Maybe one that is not as good as either you or Severus, but one could be found."

"Then what am I doing here?" she exclaimed. "Why did that man drag me back to this hellhole when he knew I couldn't come back? Doesn't he know the pain I go through just being in these dungeons?" she cried. Hermione had completely lost control of her temper. She could not hold off her tears any longer. She had almost felt as if it was Severus she was screaming at. She wanted some answers; she wanted the truth. Dumbledore had brought her back there for a reason and she needed to know why. Why would he subject her to such torture when he knew that she and Severus would be in the same castle together?

Minerva stood stock-still and speechless. She had no idea that Hermione was going through such pain, suppressing such anger and bottling it all inside. She wanted to kill Dumbledore. She had always suspected that there was a good reason Hermione was estranged from their magical world, but she never knew that it was this bad -- this horrible. She felt her heart turn just from looking at the state her former student was in. She never quite understood what it was about Hermione that made her care for her so much, but she had always been fond and proud of the little girl, as she saw her. Minerva vowed to behead anyone who would dare to lay hand or wand on her Hermione. She knew favoring any particular student was against her personal decalogue, but Hermione--Hermione had stolen her heart. She loved her like her own child--always looking after her as a student, and constantly worrying about her all those years she disappeared from their world. She was actually thankful and relieved when Dumbledore had found Hermione and sent her to bring the girl back to Hogwarts to work for him. She had suspected at first that there was more behind his reasons to bringing her back than he was letting on, and after Hermione's outburst tonight, she was definite something was going on.

She walked towards the distraught Hermione and pulled her into her arms. She wished she could take back everything she said. 'Damn that man,' she thought to herself. 'Damn him for bringing her back,' she thought, though she had no idea of the matter. Hermione was surprised when Minerva hugged her and cried onto her sleeve. Seeing the tears flow from the older woman's eyes helped tear down the barrier she had put up to keep her from breaking down. Her sudden embrace had surprised Hermione. She finally gave in and sobbed her heart out onto the older woman's shoulders. She had never realized that that was what she needed: a shoulder to cry on; someone to scream at for the pain she was feeling; someone to blame. She felt like a child crying in her mother's arms, hoping the pain would wash out with her tears. Her heart ached with pain, but when she was done, she had felt a sense of serenity she had not known since Severus broke her heart. She was suddenly beginning to imagine life without him. And for the first time ever, it did not seem so bad.

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