Bookworms

A/N: Hello all, and huge thank yous for sticking around this far. Life has been constantly changing since I started this and have not been able to write or update as frequently as I had originally planned. I appreciate your support as readers and reviewers more than I can ever possibly relate.

I am off to Boston for a week's vacation, and then back to finish an Exchange gift. A new chapter for MoI should be up in less than two months.

Chapter 8- Bookworms

"I expect a foot of parchment on my desk Monday, detailing the uses of unicorn parts in potions," Hermione called over the loud shuffling of her students.

The first year, combined Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class hastily began breaking down their cauldrons and potion sets for storage, desperate to get out of the classroom as swiftly as they could manage. As it was the final class of the first week of the new term, they were anxious to get out of their bondage and into relaxing the weekend away with their housemates.

At least, that was what she told herself.

In the back of her mind, Hermione could not help but wonder if the real reason for the speedy exits was because they hated her class, that they hated her, or worst of all, because she was as bad as...or worse than...Snape have ever been.

Hermione had to laugh at herself, though. How could she possibly be worse than Snape?

Along with other education reform enacted this past year, the Ministry of Magic now set very straightforward guidelines as to how a teacher was to behave in class toward her students, especially in regards to punishment. Poor examples of teachers in the past, including Umbridge, the Carrows and even Snape, had prompted Minerva to lobby for this addition to the ancient Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Procedural Handbook. Of course, this was all under the delusion that the Ministry would forever remain incorruptible from this point forward...that another Dark Lord would not gain power and influence sometime in the future. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before there was a new foe to their world and way of living, but these rules were a good thing to have... for now.

The knowledge that she would...by following the rules, that is...be a more likable teacher than Snape was a small consolation in the face of her ever-annoying lack of self-confidence.

However, after this week, Hermione could finally understand why Snape had acted in class the way he had all those years, excluding his double agent status and the pressure he'd been under.

She was not, by nature, a very patient person. As a matter of fact, she was probably the least patient person she knew. When faced with youths who really could not care less about their education, or youths who were truly inept, Hermione could feel her ire rising. There had been more than one occasion this week when she had wanted to openly berate someone for being a "dunderhead." She had refrained, though. Barely. She was not going to end up like Snape.

No, she would not, even if she could empathize with him.

When her last student had escaped, Hermione headed out the door, warding it as she walked away. Numbly, she made her way to the staff lounge. By the end of the day, it was usually filled with professors ready to exchange their day's horror stories. This afternoon, however, it was empty. Still becoming accustomed to how the staff at Hogwarts worked, she had not been aware that Friday would be different than any other day.

At least she knew where they kept the Firewhisky.

Walking over to the disguised, wood-paneled case, Hermione pulled out the large glass decanter and poured two fingers' worth of the potent, amber liquid in an accompanying glass.

She lifted it to her nose, sniffed it and lowered to take a sip. In mid-sip, the door opened with a loud groan. She turned to see who had entered, only to find Snape standing there with his vile smirk.

"Starting early, Miss Granger?" he asked slowly, his left brow arching.

"Obviously," Hermione answered. She took another small sip and began to close the paneling when his voice stopped her again.

"Pour me one as well," he murmured.

Hermione glanced back at him with a bit of incomprehension, but poured him his own glass. She handed it to him as she sank into one of the plush chairs facing the dormant hearth. There was nothing else in the world she would rather do than drink herself into oblivion for the night, though she knew she would not even finish this glass of Firewhisky. She was a "light-weight" in every sense of the word.

Silence enveloped the room, except for the clap of his boot heels on the stone floor. He sank carefully into the chair facing her and smirked again.

"I would rather be alone, Professor," she said into her glass. "What is it you need?"

"Is it so unbelievable that I came to see how my new Potions mistress held up her first week? It is in the job description that I make certain my second-in-command is still alive," he remarked.

Hermione frowned. "You came only to see if I was ready to leave Hogwarts yet... if I had enough of the dunderheads."

He was silent and did not seem to acknowledge her answer.

"I am more tenacious than that, Snape. Give me some credit," she said. "I know you are worried that you will be left without a full staff, and thus have it endanger your precarious position as Headmaster, should word get out. I never imagined you to be so insecure. It's like you feel you have to prove yourself."

"Do not presume to think you know me," he said.

Hermione sighed and rested her head back on the chair, closing her eyes for a moment and then opening them. "You and I are quite alike, Professor. I think we understand each other better than we let on. We have both, you and I, had to constantly prove ourselves in some form or another...take that as you will."

Silence again as he regarded his glass, now empty.

"We are both different people than we were back... then," she sighed. "But I'd rather not talk about that on Friday afternoon when I should be relaxing."

He leaned back in his chair and observed her slowly. "Minerva will be arriving for Thea's party at seven, if you are joining us."

"Of course. I already promised Thea last Saturday that I would be there tonight." She nodded. "Her gift just arrived yesterday by owl."

"She does not require a gift," he said flatly. "You have already ruined her."

"Ruined her?" Hermione questioned with exasperation.

"She must learn that wanting something does not mean she can have it," Snape said.

Hermione raised a questioning brow. "Yes, you are her father, and it's your prerogative to withhold things from her as you see fit, but it is everyone else's job to spoil her. I am sure Auntie Minerva has been guilty of it on more than one occasion."

"You have already said that the blasted Cinderella book was her gift," he said. "She does not need more."

"As I have said, never deprive a girl of a book, she might actually learn something from them," Hermione said.

He snorted derisively. "So she can turn into you?"

Hermione scoffed. "I could have done worse, Sir! Really, you should be thankful you had at least one person in class who knew what was going on, even if my answers were directly from a textbook."

They glared at each other.

"Since it is her birthday, I have gotten her more gifts," Hermione said. "At least let her have something to do when you keep her locked away in your chambers all the time!"

He stood up suddenly and stormed over to her, leaning down over her in a frightening manner. "You have no right to criticize."

"She's like that princess you keep locked up in a tower..." Hermione did not know what had come over her, but it suddenly felt right to continue goading him.

"I will have you know, Miss Granger, that before this year, we have shared every meal together in my chambers, except for Welcoming and Leaving feasts. She can go where she likes on the grounds, but she chooses to stay in our chambers. This year will be different because I am expected to be at most mealtimes as Headmaster. She must eat alone."

"She should eat with everyone else."

"You do not understand, do you?" he said. "I am protecting her."

"From what, Snape?"

"From the world."

With this, he stood ramrod straight. With a swish of his robes, he moved toward the door, placed his glass firmly on a table and disappeared. Hermione watched him leave with great curiosity.

Of course, the admission had answered more questions than he had probably cared to concede, but it was a startling admission nonetheless. She had never imagined Snape would be so touchy about how he raised his daughter. Nor could she believe him to be so naturally protective about another human, even of his own flesh.

Harry had told her what he learned in the Pensieve, both in their fifth year and after the Final Battle. She could only surmise that the professor's upbringing had been painful, not only from a lack of decent family but also from being the constant target for the Marauders.

It made complete sense that he wanted to protect Thea "from the world" as he had said, but Hermione could not, for the life of her, understand how keeping Thea locked up all the time she was at Hogwarts was protecting her. She was at school now... he could not protect her so absolutely.

Even if Hermione wanted to be angry with him for his methods, she could not. His motives were pure and, surprisingly, made her heart strings tug violently. It was still unclear as to whether he viewed Thea as a blessing or a curse, but Hermione supposed that did not matter any more.

What mattered was that, perhaps, her crusty old professor was not so horrible after all. And if he was not so horrible, conceivably they could in time come to a mutual friendship for the sake of their careers.

And now, it seemed, for Thea as well.

-----

Thea set her book on the nightstand beside her bed, fondly running her fingers across the cover. It would be easier to get to it there when she tried to convince Miss Hermione to read it to her before going to bed.

Turning quickly, Thea skipped to the living room where her father sat waiting with a wizarding chess board, a game half played and waiting since Wednesday for its conclusion.

"When is Auntie Minerva going to be here, Father?" Thea asked as she climbed up onto the chair facing the quiet man.

He had been really grumpy with her ever since fetching her from her school in Hogsmeade, and for him, this was saying a lot. She knew that her father had never been and never would be like Auntie Minerva or Miss Hermione were with her, but he hardly ever acted as angry as he had this afternoon. As far as Thea could remember, she had not left her toys out for him to trip over. She had not spoken back to him when she should not have. What had put him in such an angry mood then?

"Soon," he replied, surveying the board carefully.

Thea knew her father always looked for the least useful move that he could manage, to help her along with the game. At least, she had noticed the king and queen giving him nasty looks when he made certain moves with his pawns and knights. She knew he would never admit that he was losing on purpose while he was still teaching her the game, but she liked the satisfied feeling it gave her when her own knights would knock off one of his black pawns. And nothing made her more excited than when her father leaned back in his seat, defeated, with a small smile on his lips for her as she took a victory spin around the room.

"What about Miss Hermione, Father?" Thea questioned, watching as his knight took her pawn. It did not appear that he heard her, and she questioned again tentatively, "Father?"

The breath he sucked in through his lips was barely audible, but she could see him tense as though he were getting ready to shout at her. Thea braced herself for the inevitable.

"Miss Granger will be here soon, Thea," he answered calmly and scratched at the corner of his mouth quickly. "It's your move."

Thea moved her rook. "Check."

During the next long minutes as her father considered his next move, Thea watched him carefully. She may have only been six years old, but she knew when something was bothering him. She was just happy that it wasn't her who was bothering him, for a change.

Not that she was thrilled that Father was frowning even more once she'd mentioned Miss Hermione. After all, she loved Miss Hermione...why didn't he? This, perhaps, was what confused Thea the most: How could anyone not like Miss Hermione? And was Thea the only one who thought that Miss Hermione and Father were so alike?

It was while she had been helping Miss Hermione that she had realized that Miss Hermione and her father ought to be very good friends. After all, half the books both of them owned were the same! If they could spend time together, like she and Miss Hermione did, they would have a great deal of fun. By all accounts, Miss Hermione was everything her father was not, especially when it came to the hugs Thea treasured so much.

Thea loved both of them equally. Now the only problem was pushing them together so they could all love each other.

-----

"Oh, Minerva, it's so wonderful to see you," Hermione said as she embraced the elderly witch, partly as a need for a hug from an old friend and partly to hold the frail woman from being knocked to the ground. Hermione had not intended on launching herself at her former teacher, but seeing her face when the door to the headmaster's quarters opened was a nice surprise. At least she wasn't greeted with the sour mug of her sour boss. Minerva had been completely unprepared, and Hermione had felt her teeter on her feet.

Minerva pulled back from her, eyes narrowing slightly. "I didn't expect anyone else tonight."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Thea wanted me to come."

"Ah, so you've met the lass," Minerva said and stepped back from the door, allowing Hermione to enter.

"Miss Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Thea jump up from the seat next to her father and run over to her. The girl hugged her closely around the hips, stepping back long enough to grab her hand and pull her toward the settee she had been sitting on. Hermione reluctantly sat down on the other edge, as far away from Snape as she could manage. If the sneer he had given her before she sat down meant anything, he was still deeply incensed with her from this afternoon.

Distracting herself from the frowning man, Hermione pulled out her wand and two small, glittery boxes from her robes. She enlarged them back to the correct size and held them out to Thea. "These are for you, love."

"Really?" the girl asked with wide eyes. "May I open them?"

Hermione nodded. Minerva sat gingerly on the squashy chair set in an L-shape by the couch, her eyes ever astute. The old witch took a sip of Firewhisky from the glass in front of her.

Severus stood up quickly. "Would you care for anything to drink, Miss Granger?"

"Whatever Minerva's having."

"Is that a...wise...choice?"

Hermione felt herself blush. How did he know she was still feeling the aftereffects of her afternoon drinks? How did he know that she was light-weight? Lucky guess? Whether it was or not, it was still particularly embarrassing for him to ask such a question. Not that she would have expected anything more or less from him but to try to humiliate her.

"Yes," she replied flatly.

After he handed her the glass of amber liquid, he disappeared; Thea tore hurriedly at the paper on her gifts. She let out a squeal when she found that they were books, ran around looking for her father, showed them to him excitedly and ran back to throw herself at Hermione.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Thea exclaimed, sitting back on the couch and opening the first tome on her lap. Within minutes, the girl was gone into the world of fantasy, looking curiously at the stationary pictures.

Snape reappeared again, this time with a house-elf following him, tea and cakes balancing precariously on a tray. The elf set the tray on the coffee table. "Thank you, Lugknut."

The elf snapped its fingers and disappeared.

At least he was pleasant to house-elves.

Hermione smiled, accepting a cup and saucer from Minerva. Time seemed to pass remarkably quickly despite having to be within his presence; the conversation moved around easily and about different subjects, but Hermione and Snape never addressed each other directly. It would be Hermione and Minerva in conversation, Snape scowling. Then Snape and Minerva would be off and Hermione would talk with Thea. In no time, Thea had fallen asleep with a book on her face.

It was while Snape was putting Thea to bed...this action in itself anomalous to his usual frostiness...that the evening took an interesting turn.

"I really was surprised to know that you were invited, Hermione," Minerva said.

Hermione smiled slightly. "I'm just as surprised as you, but I couldn't have very well have said no to Thea."

"You like Thea?"

"How could you not like her? She is a special little girl," Hermione chuckled. "I just can't believe she's his."

Minerva nodded and leaned back in her chair. "He's really a very good father. Rough around the edges, yes, but he has done well."

"I suppose I shouldn't pass judgment on the relationship, but it is so difficult not to with my own past with him," Hermione said.

"All you can do is what I have done these past years. Just be there for Thea when he is in one of his moods," Minerva said. "I know it is a lot to ask, but she obviously likes you very much. Severus does not seem to relish that fact, either. I imagine that he finds it difficult not to pass judgment on you. You weren't exactly a wonderful child to be around yourself."

Hermione tried hard to blush at that, but she knew Minerva was telling the truth. She had probably been a rather large pain in the arse as a child here at Hogwarts, even if she had been a good student, and she certainly was not doing anything to prove Snape's past opinions and assumptions wrong. She may have been nearing thirty years of age, but she had been acting like a petulant child toward him. This could not continue. Hermione made it her goal to make him see her as a mature, capable woman.

She yawned, the fatigue of her week finally hitting with full force. "I really need to go." She yawned again. "This teaching thing is for the birds."

Hermione moved toward the door before stopping to turn toward Minerva. "Would you tell Professor Snape I said thank you?"

A shadow emerged from the far end of the room. "You're welcome, Miss Granger."

She smiled slowly and nodded. "Good evening."