Impressions

Many thanks to karelia for her beta skills, and Hebe GB for her BritPicking/RegencyChecking.

Hermione woke up and dressed quickly into a fresh shift and her second-best gown. She'd worn her best yesterday. She hurriedly brushed out her hair and parted off the front section, pulling the back up tightly and twisting it in her best impression of what Rebecca had taught her. She never quite got it right. She carefully chose non-ink stained fingers to lick and used a little spit to defrizz the curls around her face and hoped it would pass muster. She stared at her reflection and sighed, but her frown was slowly replaced by an extremely unladylike grin.

Magic. She hadn't been in danger of being carted off to Bedlam. Her magic was escaping her control.

She might be as plain as a ha'penny, but she was a witch, by all the graces. That was something far more intriguing than beauty.

She snapped out of her reverie and jumped up from the mirror. She quickly made her bed, carefully tucking the fold around the lump of pillow, and did her best not to wad her nightgown too badly before repacking her things in her trunk. She realized she wouldn't be able to get all of her new books to fit. She bit her lip, but then stacked the books and buckled them together with the strap.

She grabbed up her bonnet, gloves and the butter-yellow Spencer that always made her look ill. It was the only one that matched her gown, unfortunately. Perhaps if it was warm enough, she could simply not wear it. She headed out into the sitting room, just as the other bedroom door flew open.

"Good morning, Prof...What are you wearing, if I may ask, sir?"

"Robes. We aren't Muggles; we don't dress like them unless we are trying to hide in their society. You are warned not to try to look too Muggle in Wizarding society. It can draw attention from undesirable people."

She smoothed a hand down her dress. "This is all I have, sir. I only have the three dresses."

"We will be purchasing you your school uniforms, which you will wear at all times during school hours. I only caution you about your leisurewear."

"And will the school robes be anything like that?" she asked, waving a hand in his direction.

He scowled and bristled like a cat. "Why?"

"Because I think you look quite splendid, sir."

"You...Ah... thank you."

And he did. He looked well-rested, although there were still lines of stress on his face that she thought might be permanent. He was dressed in long embroidered robes with a voluminous outer robe on top. They were unrelieved black, but they somehow suited him more than his previous haberdashery had. The only thing they had in common with normal dress, or Muggle dress, as she would have to get used to saying, was a waistcoat and cravat.

He looked distinctly uncomfortable with the way the conversation had gone, so she moved to the table where breakfast waited and placed her books next to her plate with a muffled thump.

"You won't have any time to read until you're on the Thestral carriages later. There is no use lugging your books about."

"I'm afraid they might get lost. They don't all fit in my trunk."

He pulled out his wand and, with a flick, the pile of books shrank until they would fit in the palm of her hand. She let loose with a delighted laugh.

"I love magic! It's the most marvelous thing in the world!"

He gave her an odd look as she jumped up and went to stuff her now tiny pile of books in her trunk.

After breakfast they headed downstairs where the professor stopped to greet a few other people without bothering to introduce her. She waited patiently for him to finish his conversation before, with an imperious gesture, he urged her to follow him out the backdoor of the inn.

She practically had to trot to keep up, and she constantly skipped to the side to avoid being enveloped by his billowing robes. A quick tap on a brick wall and she stood and watched in surprise as the bricks shifted to reveal a wonderland.

"This is Diagon Alley," he said in a bored tone. "It is the main shopping district and the heart of the Wizarding community."

He headed for the closest shop with an elaborate sign swinging above the door saying, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. A cluster of redheaded people suddenly swarmed the door, and Hermione had to check herself before she barreled into her teacher so swiftly did he stop.

"And there is Arthur Weasley and his brood. Come. We'll head elsewhere first."

She scampered along at his side.

"Are they not people of quality? All those redheads? Should I avoid them?"

He stopped short again and looked at her. "You would take my word as to whom you should and shouldn't deal with?"

"Well, I'd rather form my own opinions, but your thoughts would carry a certain weight, yes. I trust you."

"When did that happen? Last night you thought I was trying to abduct you for nefarious purposes that shall remain forever unspoken."

"I do apologize for that. You have proven yourself a truthful man, and I sense that you are very honorable. Until you prove otherwise, I trust you implicitly on things pertaining to the social mores and customs of your world."

He flashed her a look she couldn't interpret. "The Weasleys are a fine family. An old pureblood family. However, when one encounters them en masse, they are more than a little overwhelming." He cocked his head to the side suddenly and blurted, "Why did you ask this Stephens to teach you such dreadful language? I had thought it was because you were of low character, but it would appear that is not the case."

She blushed to the roots of her hair. "A gentleman would not bring that up."

"I'm not..." He huffed and started walking. "Answer the question, Miss Granger."

"It was after Althea's garden party. I had been forced to go to another of her wretched teas, with all of the wretched girls in the village."

"Not up to snuff for a Baronet's granddaughter?"

Hermione stopped short. She could feel anger suffusing her face. It took him a few steps before he realized and turned back. He raised one eyebrow and came back to her.

"Quite the contrary, sir. I was the one who held the lowest social class, a fact I couldn't care less for, unless I am forced by the demands of polite society to choke down watery milk tea, and my pride, while I endure unrelenting slights. In those moments, I care very much. I hate it. I asked Stephens to teach me how to curse up a storm because I wanted to be able to look all those judgmental magpies in the eye whilst reciting my actual opinion of them in the privacy of my own head."

"Only in private?"

She felt herself color again. "Yes."

"So I am the first one to be honored thusly?"

"As you say."

He looked at her and smirked before he spun on his heel and began walking again. She hurried after him.

"I have good news and I have bad news for you, Miss Granger. Wizarding society doesn't have a gentry, per se. There are no titles to split hairs over. No Dukes, no Earls, no lowly Baronets. However, we are not without our striations. Our society is split into Purebloods, those who can trace their ancestors back to the age of Merlin himself, and..."

"Muggle-borns, like me. I know. I read it in Hogwarts, A History, last night. I understand there have been ferocious arguments against allowing my kind in."

He looked at her, and she detected the slightest flash of something indefinable before his eyes clouded with irritation.

"Do not make a habit of interrupting me, Miss Granger. Had we been in school, you would have just lost house points." He pulled open the door of the shop they had stopped in front of, and she scurried in after him.

It was while he was tearing apart a stack of cauldrons, thumping each one and tossing it aside, that she had her first taste of the darker side of the Wizarding world.

She was watching him intently, trying to understand what he was searching for from what he was rejecting. He gave a satisfied nod and was about to hand the cauldron to her, when they were interrupted by a polite cough. She looked up at the same time as he did and saw a rather handsome, and very distinguished-looking, man with sweeping robes of velvet and silk and an elegant walking stick.

"Malfoy."

"Snape."

The man looked at her, flicking his eyes quickly up and down her short length, before bestowing a magnificent sneer on her. "Running Dumbledore's errands, are we?"

"As you can plainly see. And how is Narcissa?"

"She is fine, as always. I shall tell her you asked after her. Draco is very excited to see more of you, naturally. Another fine addition to the House of Slytherin."

"He will see more than he's comfortable with soon enough."

Malfoy gave a false chuckle of humor, but to Hermione's eyes, he was not amused.

"Do make sure he is settled in, won't you, dear boy?" The man reached out and snatched the cauldron from the professor's hands. "I'm counting on you, Snape."

"I shall look in on him tonight and make sure he is settled."

"You are most obliging, old friend. I must run along, so many things to buy."

The man left without a further word of parting on anyone's lips. Snape watched him for a moment before turning and giving Hermione a look of anger that made her stomach sink. Without further word, he went back to attacking what cauldrons he hadn't inspected yet.

"I read about these houses last night. Do you think I will end up in Gryffindor? You do keep muttering about it. Will I have any say in it at all? I don't think I like this Slytherin very much. I do hope I don't get picked for that one. From what I read, most evil wizards belonged to that house in their youth. I can believe it, if that man Malfoy's son is anything like him. And this Salazar Slytherin hated my kind. I don't think I could have any truck with someone who belonged to a House whose founder fought to exclude me.

"What house did you belong to? I think it would be rather comforting to belong to your old house."

Her professor gave another satisfied nod, thumping the bottom of the cauldron several more times with his thumb for good measure before shoving it into her arms.

He straightened to his full height, which was considerable, looked down his nose, which was a good distance, and intoned, "I belonged to, and am now the Head of, the House of Slytherin."

"Oh, dear."

"Indeed."

"I'm sorry."

He raised an eyebrow and turned away, leaving the shop boy to clean up the mess he'd made. She followed behind feeling like an utter fool.

They remained locked in an uncomfortable silence until they reached Madam Malkin's again where he oversaw the purchase of three sets of school robes, a pair of sturdy boots that he highly recommended, and agreed that she had enough money from her parents' allotment to buy two more sets of robes for casual use. He balked when she asked for his advice on styles, so she had to trust the woman in the shop. She also bought the several pairs of thick, woolen stockings that he said she would be grateful for.

They made their way to a shop called Ollivander's in an only slightly more comfortable silence. There, she found her wand. Or the wand found her, if the old man behind the counter was to be believed. As soon as she felt the vinewood, with a core of what she was told was dragon heartstring, she knew it was hers. It almost seemed to purr like a kitten in her hand. When she flicked it, a beautiful cascade of sparks wafted gently from the tip. She felt tears in her eyes at her first, conscious display of magic and turned towards her teacher and beamed at him in pride and satisfaction.

He responded with the slightest of nods before he pulled out the money purse without further ado.

They returned to the inn and ate a quick meal in still more silence before repacking her trunks and heading back downstairs. She was now dressed in her school robes, sturdy, dark-gray bombazine with fitted long-sleeves and a delightfully whimsical low waist. After years of Empire-style muslin, she felt rather special. She couldn't make heads or tails of the pointed hat...it didn't want to cooperate with her high twist of hair...so she tucked it into the pocket of the cloak he'd also purchased for her and hoped she would get the hang of it through mimicry by watching the other students.

She said good-bye to an effusive Mr. Tatterwing and then walked with her teacher to a long line of carriages with no horses. The occasional Muggle strolled by on the street but didn't seem to notice the mass of students and families gathered around saying their good byes.

Professor Snape was staring intently at a shockingly tall man with a huge beard and matted black hair, waving a pink parasol, of all things, but when she looked closer, she saw he was actually staring at the young, dark-haired boy next to him, wearing spectacles.

Hermione found herself unaccountably frightened at the prospect of getting into one of those carriages without her Professor Snape. She didn't want to leave his side. She certainly didn't want to leave him with her misspoken words still hanging between them.

"He's a very nice man, Mr. Tatterwing. He frightened me when I first saw him, and now I feel bad about that. My mother always warned me about first impressions."

He looked at her with annoyance.

"Oh, please don't be mad at me. I didn't intend to insult you or your House. I don't want you to hate me."

"Miss Granger, you are eleven years old. It would be beneath my dignity to, as you say, 'hate you.' However, if you are implying a desire for some sort of friendship between us, I am afraid, that is also not to be countenanced. I am your instructor. I have dragged us both through the streets of London because it was my duty to do so. To project anything more would be the height of childish folly."

She sighed and looked down at her first pair of sturdy boots. "I wasn't suggesting that we go skipping rocks in a stream together, Professor. I just..." She looked back up at him. "Tell me something good about Slytherin House."

He raised an eyebrow at her and replied, "We've won the house cup for the last five years in a row, and our Quidditch team cannot be beaten."

"That's very impressive. Are there any other sports, aside from this Quidditch at the school?"

He looked back at the boy standing on the pavement next to the giant, looking just as overwhelmed and nervous as she felt.

"Nothing as organized as Quidditch," her teacher replied without looking away. "There are several clubs and organizations. Chess Tournaments, and Dueling Clubs, Gobstone Matches, that sort of thing."

"So unless you can ride a broom, then physical activity is limited to a morning or evening constitutional?"

"Trust me, Miss Granger. You will get more than enough exercise simply moving from one class to another. One could say that Hogwarts' other official sport is stair climbing."

"That hardly offers much of a challenge."

He snorted and turned to her finally. "You haven't seen the stairs," he said with a smirk.

She smiled, reveling in the sought-after return of his dry wit.

At exactly eleven o'clock there was a shout, and a general scramble ensued. Both Hermione and the professor actually stepped back from the sudden chaos. He turned to her and asked, "Do you have your food and drink? It is a seven hour carriage ride, with only a few short stops."

"I do. Thank you. Thank you for everything, Professor Snape. You have been most generous with your time and energy, as well as your patience and understanding." He opened his mouth with a scowl, but she raised her hand and cut him off. "You are owed thanks, despite it being your duty as a gentleman and a faculty member. You didn't have to do things like take the time to find me a decent cauldron. Twice. I am deeply appreciative."

His mouth closed, and he seemed discomfited. "You actually received the better cauldron in the end, Miss Granger. Remember that."

She smiled. "I shall."

She gathered her valise to her chest and took a deep breath before heading toward one of the carriages.

"Miss Granger," he called after her.

"Yes, sir?"

"I never managed to answer your question last night. The one you asked at your parents' house. You asked me if we taught medicine."

She winced and replied, "I always wanted to be a doctor. Silly, I know, but..."

"You can be, Miss Granger. If you are diligent in your studies and ambitious. Many of our finest Healers are women."

It felt like her entire face was going to explode from her sudden smile. "I'm going to like this school ever so much! Thank you!"

He recoiled from her enthusiasm, as if fearing it was contagious.

"You are holding up the carriages, Miss Granger. Do try to get into one of them before they leave without you. I would hate to have to give you a detention on your first day."

The look on his face told her he wouldn't mind any such thing at all, so she turned and scrambled towards the last carriage that still had a door open.

Another boy was running for it as well, but when he reached it, a toad jumped out of his pocket. He gave a cry, and she didn't hesitate. She just reached down and snatched up the toad and handed it back with a smile. They both climbed into the carriage, and when she leaned out the window to wave, her smiled sagged.

Professor Snape had already gone.

She sat back in her seat and immediately pulled out a book. She had an enormous amount of reading to do between now and when classes would begin. She looked up and smiled distractedly at the boy with the toad.

"Thank you for saving Trevor. My name's Neville, by the way. Neville Longbottom."

"I'm Hermione Granger. I'm very pleased to meet you, Neville."

Manners dictated that she turn to the other two occupants. She recognized one of them as belonging to the Weasley brood. The redhaired boy was eating his food already, and they hadn't even left yet.

"Ronald Weasley," he said around a mouthful.

She smiled around her disgust and looked to the other boy. The one with the spectacles that her professor had been staring at so intently.

"I'm Harry. Potter, that is."

She smiled at him warmly and then returned her attention to her book, as the other two boys seemed to take great delight in being in the same carriage as the boy with the poor eyesight.