Obsessions

Disclaimer: Anti-litigation charm!!!!

Chapter Twelve: Obsessions

-=+=-

December found Hermione in a bit of a rut. Bela and Edwin Granger were off skiing in the Alps again, so the Granger daughter was left to her own devices regarding holiday plans. She had a week or so until everyone finished their midterms, but that short week was filling with revising, and "Litte Miss Know-It-All and Head Girl Extraordinaire" would not be "Little Miss Know-It-All and Head Girl Extraordinaire" without a full eight hours a day studying. Harry offered to invite her to spend the hols with him at Grimmauld Place, but that had preceded McGonagall's orders to keep them under a watchful, adult eye. It was for protection, although Hermione and the others were reluctant to agree...they had faced much more than paparazzi, let alone rogue Death Eaters, during the war. Even the fact that all five of Harry's closest friends were now of age did not sway the Headmistress' decision.

And so on the fourteenth of December, Hermione said her goodbyes to all (save Ron) on the platform before the lot of them boarded the Hogwarts Express bound for London. It was to Hermione's dismay that she did not receive an invite to the Burrow that Christmas; though whether that was a fault of Ron or Mother Hen Weasley remained to be seen. Accepting a kiss on the cheek from Harry, then Ginny, a hug from Neville and an awkward wave from Luna, Hermione ushered them onto the train and then began a long walk up to the castle with Hagrid. The carriage roads winded through the forest, and Hermione soon found that she was not in as good shape as she thought she'd been when she arrived at the Entrance Hall, panting heavily and sweating through her warm winter robes.

Nothing was to be done other than... well, study, so Hermione immediately headed to the library. She tried to begin on her assignments for the coming term, but found it increasingly difficult with the potion on her mind. She knew there was something that could be added, something to improve and increase the potency, something that kept niggling at her until she thought about the serum some more. Hermione found that she spent most days alternating between Hagrid's ever-orange pumpkin patch and the Potions and Alchemy and Restricted sections of the library, and when she was in neither of those places, she found herself wandering into the closet off of the Gryffindor common room and adding whatever ingredients she could get her hands on to the mix. The concoction became more complicated every day, with the Head Girl rushing in every couple of hours with a new idea. All that was taxing enough, but Hermione found that she could not sleep when the potion was so close to another ingredient. The house elves would find her drooling on a tome at five in the morning, the girl having fallen asleep over her copious notes.

Days passed like this...quiet and unassuming to the normal wizard, but very noisy to Hermione, who spent every thought on her potion. She would watch the mesmerising spirals as it shimmered with a vague blue mist while simmering over the wandlit fire. It was not long until the week of Christmas rolled around, and Hermione realized she had spent two and a half months poring over her unfinished potion. On a Saturday, the 20th, Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed.

I haven't purchased any bloody presents! She jumped from her bed and approached the vanity, raking a brush through her mass of curls and splashing water over her face. She ran to her dresser and collected fresh underthings and thick, fluffy socks, then to the bottom drawer she went to find a clean pair of jeans and an aubergine-tinged jumper. Her snow boots were waiting at the door...the white sheep's wool peeping out in tufts around the tongue and the top of the boot. From afar, they looked incredibly inviting, especially since the air outside bit like a werewolf on a full moon. Having donned her boots and a winter robe that she could easily transfigure into a parka, Hermione whisked over to the Headmistress' office in a flurry of self-chastising slurs.

The gargoyle peered down at her expectantly as she strode toward it, blinking briefly, then jumping aside when she shouted, "Good King Wenceslas!" The staircase carried her up in a lazy spiral and abruptly Hermione had herself a mouthful of fir leaves from the ample wreath hanging on the oak door. She reached around the outrageous thing to rap neatly upon the pleasantly warped wood.

"Enter!" McGonagall's burr was recognizable even over the cheery tunes of the record player in the back of the office near Dilys Derwent's portrait, the portrait Dilys plugging her ears during the chorus of Jingle Bells. The absurdity of the wreath was nothing compared to the state of the room before Hermione. Everything was covered in glaring festivity, and even MgGonagall was decked out in holiday cheer. The traditional tartan robes were disposed of for a garish red and green ensemble, complete with embroidered snow animals and furry cuffs. Hermione briefly wondered if becoming a headmaster constituted the loss of one's mind.

"Professor, how are you?" Hermione asked, stepping a tentative boot a little further into the warm office to close the door.

"Quite well, Miss Granger. I'm performing some last-minute decorative charms; it really is the only time of year I am given creative license." She tapped a large snow globe and it burst into a perpetual snowstorm[.] "Plus, the Minister is coming."

"Oh? Do you think he will stay long?" Hermione chuckled.

"Hopefully not! Most of this is designed specifically to scare him away." The former Transfiguration mistress smirked. "Though I do fancy the snow globe."

"I think your plan might actually work, Professor. I was certainly apprehensive to come any further into this room!"

"Good," she clucked, finally settling behind her desk as Hermione batted away some levitating baubles. "Have a seat, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, ma'am. I hate to ask you this, but I realized this morning that I haven't bought any presents for my friends. Now, I'm normally not so..."

"Merlin, Hermione, what have you been doing these past two weeks?"

"Well, I..."

"Oh, no matter. What would you have me do?"

"I really don't want to be a bother, but I can't leave my friends without presents this Christmas."

"And you need someone to escort you on your outing."

"Well, I suppose so," Hermione paused, "if you think that's necessary."

"Of course it's necessary!" the older witch snapped. "I would take you myself but I have other engagements that I unfortunately must attend to..." She tapped her chin with a thin, wizened finger, "Well, Filius is visiting family in Switzerland, Sinistra is at an astronomy conference in Berlin... Oh, dear. The only teachers available today are Sybil and Severus."

"Professor Snape! Please!" Hermione blurted. McGonagall frowned at Hermione for a moment, then stood to collect some Floo powder from the gilded pot on the mantle.

"You are sure, Hermione?" The Headmistress raised her brows in inquiry as she knelt with surprising ease at the hearth. "You know how he is...and he won't be pleasant."

"Anyone but Trelawney," Hermione said. I'd rather have my toes chewed on by a blast-ended screwt!

"That's 'Professor' Trelawney, Hermione," McGonagall chided half-heartedly, then turned to throw the shimmering dust into the fire.

Hermione crossed her fingers behind her back as the fireplace burst to life in a luminescent green.

-=+=-

Severus sat in his worn leather chair, reading the latest Alchemy Journal and contentedly sipping his morning tea. Having finished stocking the infirmary and ordering new ingredients just last night, he looked forward to a nice, uneventful week of solitude. It was the first Christmas he would spend serving no other master but himself. And, for a person as reserved as Severus Snape, he was rather excited.

He even allowed a small smile to grace his features as he crossed one black-trousered leg over his other knee and rustled the journal pages for good measure.

And that was how the Headmistress of Hogwarts found the Head of Slytherin from her view in the modest fireplace.

"Severus," the older witch announced to the room, "may I have a word?"

So much for solitude, he thought vaguely. "You may have more than one, Minerva. What is it?"

"I must ask you a favour." And the feelings of excitement he'd been harbouring suddenly left him. Severus narrowed his eyes and closed his journal slowly. "I assume you were not planning anything for today..."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Minerva, what would you like me to do?"

"Well, if it wouldn't be too much of a bother..."

"Get to the point, woman!"

"I would love it if you would escort Miss Granger shopping, today," the Headmistress spoke quickly.

Severus blinked.

"She has put it off until now for some unknown reason, and I forbade her to go alone."

"...Is there no one else available... to do this?" He hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should be as welcoming to that plan as he felt. He quickly quashed any present feelings, shoving them in a padlocked box somewhere in the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry, Severus; I know how much you hate giving up your free time, but..."

"No, no. It's quite all right... I mean, if you insist." He stood awkwardly and patted the pockets of his robes for his wand and money. "I suppose if it doesn't take all that long," he sighed resignedly for effect. Severus, get a grip! Since when were you so lenient?

"Hermione will be so grateful, Severus. I'm afraid she's been rather lonely lately and has retreated into herself."

"Minerva," Severus nearly bit out but reined in his anger, "she has been as such for the entirety of this year." He folded his arms and rose an eyebrow. "How have I noticed more about your little Gryffindor cub than you have?" Maybe you should ask yourself that, Sev, old boy.

Minerva opened her mouth, searching for something to say, but all she ended up accomplishing was looking like a fish. "Really?"

Severus gave a curt nod and turned to his writing desk where he kept his money.

"Then I have another favour to ask of you."

"Which is...?"

"Cheer her up," McGonagall said matter-of-factly.

"That's likely! I am the bane of her existence and she mine!" He shook his head incredulously.

Minerva ignored his outburst and said, "Thank you, Severus. Can you come through now?"

"Let me retrieve my winter robes. I will be up in a moment," he announced to the clock as the older witch's face vanished from the green and blue flame.

-=+=-

"Well," the Headmistress breathed, sitting back on her heels briefly to brush the ash from her pepper-grey hair. "That was relatively simple."

"No protests?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Barely any. He will be here shortly." McGonagall stood and promptly collided with a house-elf-shaped bauble.

Hermione stifled a giggle and thanked her headmistress.

"You are lucky, Miss Granger. He is in a rather good mood for him. How long are you planning to be out?"

"I have quite a bit of shopping to do, actually," Hermione mumbled guiltily. "We should be back by dinner, I think."

McGonagall nodded and returned to her desk. "That's alright. Professor Snape can't complain about missing out on his busy social life. He doesn't have much of one."

"What don't I have?" Snape stepped from the hearth and brushed off his winter robes...which were black, of course.

"Muggle clothing, sir." Hermione said smoothly. McGonagall gave her a look of relief as she sat behind her desk.

"Right you are," he said matter-of-factly, and the headmistress gave him a look of incredulity.

"Well, Miss Granger requested a trip to London as well, and I suppose you'll need to look... relatively... normal." The headmistress pursed her lips at her own tactlessness and began quickly organizing the files on her desk, which was pristine enough, so all knew she's felt rather uncomfortable. Gryffindors really weren't that good at lying. Except for Hermione, apparently.

"Yes. I hope it won't be too much to ask you, sir. I'm sorry I'm taking up so much of your valuable time. It won't be long in London and I shop quickly. No window-shopping, I promise! And I already have a list so I won't be dallying anywhere. And we'll only go to Harrods and an international bookstore..."

"You are babbling, Miss Granger," he cut her off.

She blushed. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

"Obviously." His tone was scathing but for the quirk of his lips and the light behind his eyes. Hermione was rather taken aback by his lack of hostility, but she supposed it could just be a trick of the light, or something, to see that small curve of the lips. The headmistress wouldn't have been able to affirm Hermione's questions because she currently had her nose buried in the budget records.

He sighed and gestured towards the door, and Hermione, used to obeying his every command, quickly made for the exit. He followed her down the spiral staircase, and she turned toward him.

"So, we'll meet at nine thirty? After all, the shops open at ten, but I need to fetch money from Gringotts." Hermione waited for his response, but quickly grew nervous with the scanning he gave her with his eyes.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asked politely.

"Er... I was planning to go to Gryffindor Tower to... uh... get some things and..."

"Have. You. Had. Breakfast. Miss Granger?"

"No, but I was going to..."

"Is there some sort of sustenance in Gryffindor Tower? Hmm? I don't believe you need to study when there is nothing to study for. What has you neglecting your health?"

"What? I didn't say..." she spluttered. "I haven't been neglecting my health!" She bit out every word like venom but the result was not what she had expected. A scowl, maybe, but not a...a...a chuckle!

"Miss Granger," he laughed, "your defensiveness gives me even less reason to believe you...other than the fact that you look even more like a ghost than you did when I last saw you."

When did he last see me? Her mind shouted. "You're one to talk," she grumbled, folding her arms and looking away.

"I'll ask you again. Why haven't you been eating?"

"Fine! I'll go eat something!" she huffed, and stomped rather childishly down towards the kitchens. She had a feeling that although she'd avoided his question now, she'd have a hard time avoiding it all day.

A/N: Yay! Another chapter for you! I know I kinda jumped two weeks, but hey...I'm writing the story! LoL. Anyhow, I picked Hermione's parents' names as Bela and Edwin because they are both related to dentistry...yes, I AM cool, kay? 'Bela' means destruction, which is also another meaning for the name Apollonia, who is the patron saint of dentistry. I was pushing it a bit, but oh well. 'Edwin' is from the Edwin Smith Papyrus, which is a document from the 17th century that includes the treatment of several dental ailments taken from texts as early as 3000 BC.

Thanks for reading!!