Chapter Five

The next two weeks passed by in somewhat of a blur. With winter exams coming up, Hermione's workload nearly tripled. Combined with her efforts for S.P.E.W. and her extra lessons with Snape...during which they would work on the Tiutisch Caedo draught...scarcely a day went by that she was able to work in more than three or four hours of sleep.

The Monday following Katie's accident was emotionally straining for Hermione, especially regarding her friendship with Ron.

"Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come," Hermione had said during their morning Herbology lesson, gently squeezing at a Snargaluff pod.

Ron had looked incensed at the notion. "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?" he had said waspishly.

"Just for the Slug Club, yes," she'd answered coolly, deftly avoiding his glare.

"Well," Ron had said nastily, purposely squeezing his Snargaluff pod too tightly, causing it to spew a gooey substance all over their table, "I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, and then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug..."

"We're allowed to bring guests," Hermione had said hotly, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid, then I won't bother!"

She could have referred to herself as furious, but that would have been an understatement. She really had been going to ask Ron to go as her date. Not that she had an interest in Ron, or even in being in Ron's company for any extended period of time, but it would have been the polite thing to do. If Ron went to the party as her date, he could entertain Harry for the evening, and perhaps she could make an early escape.

"You were going to ask me?" Ron had said disbelievingly.

"Yes," she'd replied, "but obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen..."

"No, I wouldn't," Ron had replied quietly.

The negative conversation was not made better by Ginny's confession to Ron the following night. Though she hadn't been there to hear it, Dean had relayed the story to her in their morning Ancient Runes class.

"She was really pissed at Ron. She told him you s...er...snogged Viktor," he had informed her clumsily.

Hermione was staring daggers at Dean as though he were Ginny herself. "And that's all she said?"

Dean had nodded, but Hermione didn't believe him. It appeared as though the secret was out of the bag. The revelation explained Ron's nastiness toward her in the following weeks.

Sunday evening, as the fortnight came to a close, she found herself sitting in the Gryffindor common room, thinking back on the past two weeks. She had spent nearly all of her time either studying or knitting elf hats, and even the latter was becoming somewhat of a thorn in her side. It wasn't that she minded creating the gifts for the creatures, really, but ever since she'd found out that Dobby had been taking them all for himself, the lure of a free Elvish society just wasn't quite as rewarding as it had once been.

Her only respite, recently, had been her tutorial sessions with Professor Snape. When she was around him, she could be herself. There would be no idle chit chat about Quidditch or some other inane subject that she knew little to nothing about...it was just her, Snape and their work. If Harry or Ron heard her speak this way about extra lessons, they would probably have her committed. Of course, they had never been much for coursework anyway. To her, the extra sessions were pure bliss.

The portrait swung inward, stirring her from her reverie. "Hey," Ron said detachedly, passing by her and dropping his broom onto the floor next to the fire. "This is for you."

He handed her a small folded note with no writing on it. "Who's this from, Ronald?" she asked, staring warily at the note. She still didn't quite trust Filch's Secrecy Sensor...not since Katie's accident at least.

"Dunno," Ron said, flopping down on the chair closest to the fire and toeing off his shoes at the heel. "Luna gave it to me."

Wrinkling up her nose at the unpleasant odor emitting from Ron's sweaty socks, she turned to the letter that she had been given. Though Luna was a bit... odd... to say the least, she was certainly no saboteur. After casting a quick, silent Specialis Revelio, she concluded the letter was safe and unfolded it carefully.

Dear Miss Granger,

Please report to my office immediately.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

"Where you off to?" Ron asked suspiciously as she rose from her chair and made her way to the portrait hole.

"Nowhere," she said, grabbing her cloak up off of the rack by the door.

Ron's eyes narrowed as he watched her, and she caught a glimpse of his surly look from the corner of her eye.

"What?" she snapped irritably, turning to face him.

"It was from McLaggen, wasn't it?" he asked coldly.

"What are you talking about?"

"McLaggen sent that note. I knew I should've read it first," he said sullenly, shaking his head with a frown.

Hermione could feel her blood begin to boil. If he started reading her notes... if he jeopardized her lessons for any reason...

She marched over to him, bending over so that he could see the fire in her eyes. He actually looked frightened.

"You listen to me, Ronald. If you ever read any of my mail, owl post or no, I will report you immediately to the Headmaster, and I will insist on filing charges for mail tampering. I'm sure your father, as a Ministry official, would be more than angry to have that on his desk in the morning. Do I make myself clear?"

As she spoke, Ron's face shifted from that of terror, to quiet disappointment, to one of pure, silent rage.

"Fuck off, Hermione," he said softly, turning toward the fire.

To her surprise, she wasn't the least bit offended by his vulgar statement. She was used to his nasty behavior by now, and that concept scared her a little. What was happening to her friendships in the light of maturity?

The thought plagued her all the way to the Headmaster's office. During the past couple of weeks, she hadn't really given much thought at all to her hobbies, her friends...even herself. When she'd spent Tuesday night in the dungeons working on the potion with Snape, no elves had complained about the lack of hats the next morning...not even Dobby. When she hadn't been at dinner for three consecutive nights because she was catching up on homework, no one complained. In fact, no one seemed to even realize she hadn't been there...not even Harry. When she'd gone back to wearing her longer, less flattering school skirt because Ginny had asked to borrow her shorter one to impress Dean during a study session (and had never given it back), no one noticed. Well, she didn't think anyone had noticed, anyhow. Though, McLaggen had given her a somewhat disappointed look when she walked into Ancient Runes the morning she had changed styles.

She had changed in the past couple of weeks. She didn't care whether or not Ron and Harry came to her, nightly, for help. She didn't mind when they went off without her and forgot to invite her along.

She realized that the boys had always been a crutch for her...a way of blending in with the crowd. Yes, they were fine boys with good hearts...even Ron, she snorted, when he wants to be...but she had always relied on them to keep her grounded to the world around her. She didn't want to be grounded any longer. There was a war to be fought and tasks to be accomplished, and she would always, always be there to help them both, but she had her own life as well... a life she had forgotten in the wake of her friendship with the Boy-Who-Lived and his best friend.

Adulthood hit her like a ton of bricks, and suddenly there was an entirely new and foreign weight sitting on her shoulders. The realization struck her at an entirely inopportune moment as she reached the gargoyle and spoke the password to Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said kindly through his open office door as Hermione stepped off the spiral staircase. "Good evening, my dear. I take it you are well?"

"Yes, thank you, Headmaster," Hermione said, entering the office.

To her surprise, Professors McGonagall and Snape were in the room as well, both with very pleased looks on their faces. Well, McGonagall looked pleased. Snape wore a satisfied sort of smirk on his face, which she supposed was as happy a look as the man ever donned in a public setting.

"I suppose you are wondering why we have called you here tonight?" Dumbledore asked, walking to stand beside Snape.

Hermione nodded eagerly.

"Professor Snape informs me that the two of you have managed to complete the Tiutisch Caedo draught, just this afternoon?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling.

Hermione nearly fell over. The two of you? "Well, the potion was really of Professor Snape's making..."

McGonagall gave Snape a sharp, inquisitive look, at which time Snape replied to Hermione, "Nonsense." He looked at her seriously. "You contributed just as much to the potion as I," he drawled.

McGonagall looked quelled, Snape took a defensive stance with his arms across his chest, and Dumbledore looked extremely pleased. Hermione probably looked like a troll with the flattered, dumbfounded look she was sure they could all see on her face. Snape had just been nice to her...in front of someone.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said happily. "The potion has since finished cooling and is ready for transport. Now, Miss Granger," he continued, walking behind his desk and taking a seat. "Professors Snape and McGonagall are going to be taking the draught to Miss Bell at St. Mungo's this evening. I've invited you here because I thought you might like to join them."

Hermione smiled, then looked up at Snape, seeking his permission to tag along. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she turned back to the Headmaster. "I'd love to, sir. That is, if both professors approve."

"Of course we do," McGonagall cut in shortly. Snape remained silent, but looked content nonetheless.

"Then it's settled," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands together loudly. "I believe that the three of you should be off, that is, if you are to return at a reasonable hour."

Professor McGonagall entered the fireplace first, tossing in a pinch of Floo powder and calling out clearly, "St. Mungo's."

Hermione walked over to the fireplace and stood next to Snape, expecting him to go next.

"After you, Miss Granger," he said politely, gesturing toward the fireplace.

Hermione smiled and stepped into the hearth, mimicking McGonagall's previous actions.

She landed gracefully in the adjoining Floo at St. Mungo's, Snape following after her. The welcome witch eyed them warily, painting her fingernails and moodily glancing up at the clock on the wall.

"We are here to see Katie Bell," McGonagall said loudly, boldly approaching the front desk.

Hermione could have sworn she'd seen Snape roll his eyes, and he walked over to the corner of the waiting room and began conversing with a portrait on the wall. The picture showed an elderly wizard holding a chicken...an odd thing to have hanging in a hospital, Hermione thought.

The witch behind the desk replaced her nail brush in its vat of polish and replied to McGonagall in a practiced, sing-song voice, "Visiting hours are..."

"We are not visitors. We are here on direct orders from Headmaster Dumbledore," McGonagall interrupted waspishly.

The witch stared at her for several seconds before replying, "Fourth Floor, Spell Damage, last door on the..."

"I know where her room is," McGonagall interrupted briskly, eliciting an irritated huff from the other witch. McGonagall took off down the hall, and Hermione noticed the welcome witch eyeing the woman cattily as she watched her leave. Hermione hadn't seen McGonagall act so rudely since the time of Umbridge's reign at Hogwarts, and she wondered at her actions.

Hermione waited for Snape to finish speaking to the man with the chicken, then joined him when he approached her side and began walking down the hallway toward the staircase.

"She would not allow her to visit last week," Snape said out of nowhere, and Hermione regarded him oddly. "The welcome witch," he clarified, taking in her confused look. "She would not allow Minerva to visit Miss Bell after hours. They have been on sour terms ever since."

"Oh," Hermione replied, hiding a smile. McGonagall might have had her faults, but lack of spunk wasn't one of them.

When they reached the fourth floor, Snape guided Hermione down the hall and into Katie's room. The elder witch was standing over her, talking to the unconscious girl.

"I thought she was awake?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"She was," Snape replied. "She has been given a sedative in preparation for the draught. It would not be a pleasant experience if she were conscious."

Hermione nodded, then stepped back and watched as her professors administered the potion to her comatose classmate. Snape removed the vial from an inner pocket of his robes and poured the liquid into her mouth while McGonagall gently massaged Katie's neck so that she would swallow it.

She thought about her classmates' original reaction to the necklace tragedy. In the few days following the incident, Katie had been the talk of the school. As she looked back on the past couple of weeks, Hermione realized that she hadn't heard so much as a whisper about Katie since then. How soon they'd all forgotten her.

And yet, here, in front of her, were two people who had spent the past two weeks doing everything in their power to improve the girl's condition...people who weren't even friends of the victim, but only her teachers. Snape had spent every waking moment outside of the classroom working on the Tiutisch Caedo draught, and McGonagall had actually gotten thrown out of St. Mungo's for visiting her too often.

Yes, adulthood was upon her, and the weight would be that much heavier without peers who were capable of identifying with her feelings. She didn't care if it sounded arrogant. It was the truth...she was just more mature than they were.

That evening, when she said goodnight to the portrait of the Fat Lady, she proceeded directly to her room. Of course, she wasn't rude, and she waved a silent goodnight to Harry and Ginny...and even Ron, as a matter of fact...but there was no heart in her bedtime parting.

She reflected on the success of the potion she had helped Snape to devise. She had participated in a project that saved someone more pain than she could imagine...perhaps even her life. Though she couldn't be present for Katie's awakening, she had noticed a difference in her features immediately after the potion had been administered. Her tortured face had almost immediately transformed into one of peace, and Hermione had sighed contentedly at the sight. She had a purpose in life, and it didn't involve arguments about Quidditch teams or discussions about proper makeup application techniques. No one else seemed to share her passion for something greater than schoolyard tomfoolery, and her own penchant for something deeper seemed to isolate her even further from her friends and peers.

As she climbed onto her four-poster and tucked herself in for the night, she wondered if anyone else understood how she was feeling...at the moment, she felt completely alone.

***

Christmas was approaching fast, and Hermione found less and less time for her extracurricular activities. She hadn't read a book for pleasure alone in months, nor had she knitted a single elf hat. Ron had taken to openly groping Lavender in the hallways, which made it awkward for her to spend any time in her dorm room at night if the girl was there. Essentially, Hermione couldn't have cared less about who Ron was sleeping with, but she knew he was doing it just to spite her. Ginny had certainly made a mess of their friendship with her slip of the tongue regarding Viktor.

The relationship between her best friend and her roommate had kicked off on a rough note, to say the least. Ron had done very well during one particular Quidditch game (Ginny had managed to talk her into watching it instead of getting ahead on homework) and was celebrating with Lavender in full view of the entire student body.

He'd carried out the celebration right in front of her, and everyone else, to establish the fact that he had someone whilst she had no one. The fact that he could have been so vindictive and hurtful hit her in a very sore spot. She was lonely, he knew it, and he was using his new relationship to spite her. It worked. Ron ended up with a face full of flying canaries, and the scratches from said birds ended up lasting for weeks. She wasn't sorry for it afterwards. As a matter of fact, she thought he quite deserved it. Git.

McLaggen had asked Hermione to Slughorn's Christmas party, and she had grudgingly decided to accept the invitation. She had thought she and Harry would just go together, but he had asked Luna, and to be honest, she didn't want to show up alone. Of course, going with McLaggen brought the added bonus of irritating Ron. Normally she would consider revenge a childish and unfruitful endeavor... but this situation was different. He had started it after all...

The night of Slughorn's party, Parvati Patil fawned over her immensely. Without an invitation of her own, she had taken to living vicariously through Hermione. Though she nearly never wore makeup, she humoured Parvati and allowed the girl to paint her face and style her hair. She'd also taken her suggestion and borrowed one of her more flattering dresses. The garment was rather low cut, but not low enough to reveal more than a glimpse of cleavage. It bunched in the center of her chest, and two thick straps rose up from the knot, twisting around in the rear and meeting the silky material again at her lower back. It was a bit loose in the midsection...Parvati was just slightly larger than she was...but the size difference gave the material a flowing effect, which Hermione thought rather eye-pleasing. To be honest, she didn't really mind the attention from her roommate. She'd been on the outs with Ron for weeks, the effects of which had taken their toll on her friendship with Harry and Ginny as well. She couldn't blame the two of them really...it wasn't easy to divide up one's time between feuding friends.

She met Cormac in the common room at eight o'clock. Not one to disappoint, Cormac had more than dressed for the occasion. He wore a brilliant set of black wizard's robes with a deep purple oxford underneath. When she saw him, she wondered if her outfit was chic enough for the situation. Her hesitations were quickly quelled...when he'd seen her come down the stairs, he'd done a double take.

"You look beautiful," he said in an awed voice.

"Thank you," she replied, smiling.

Hermione was most surprised to see Snape had decided to attend the Christmas gathering. Though, to his credit, he was sulking in the corner when she walked in.

"Mead?" Cormac asked, gesturing toward the refreshment table.

Hermione glanced to her right. "No, thank you, Cormac. Maybe just some punch, please?"

He flashed a very pleased smile in her direction, saying, "I'll be right back."

Glancing over at her glowering professor, Hermione decided to ask him his take on the evening. She walked up to him and stood slightly behind the man and to his right, striking up casual conversation.

"Having a good time, Professor?" she said politely. She'd had to raise her voice to be heard over the chatter of those around them, and she realized the moment it came out that it sounded quite shrill.

"For the last time, Sybill," Snape replied, turning his head, "I don't..."

When he saw her, he paused mid-sentence. He seemed very surprised to see her...that, or he was simply taken aback by the discovery that she wasn't Professor Trelawney. Either way, he hadn't finished his sentence and showed no signs of doing so in the near future.

"Er...there's a lot of people here. I didn't expect it to be so crowded," she commented casually. "It looks like Professor Slughorn's magicked the office to accommodate everyone."

He seemed to shake the absent look off his face and decided to participate in the conversation. He glanced around the room, answering her casually, "Yes, it does look rather larger than usual..."

"There you are," Cormac said merrily, sneaking up on her from behind. "One punch," he added when she'd turned to him, and he handed her a large glass of red liquid.

"Thank you, Cormac," she answered, taking the glass and smiling pleasantly. She turned back to continue her conversation with Snape, but the man had mysteriously disappeared from her side. He had probably been pulled into some ungodly discussion with their host. Or maybe (and she felt sorry for the poor guy if this was the case) Professor Trelawney had finally managed to track him down. She understood. If her former Divination teacher had come looking for her, she certainly would have run for the hills.

Cormac grunted unhappily. "It is way too crowded in here tonight. I can scarcely breathe..."

She nodded, scanning the room for Harry or Ginny. "I completely agree."

"You know, Hermione," Cormac said, and she turned to him, "you and I really don't get many chances to talk to one another. I feel like I hardly know you."

She gave him a skeptical look, cocking an eyebrow. "We're talking right now, aren't we?"

"Oh, my dear girl," Trelawney wailed, creeping up next to them through the crowd. "I am very surprised to see you here." Hermione could smell the stench of cooking sherry emitting from her pores, and the odor increased when the woman got close enough for them to smell her breath when she spoke. "I was under the impression that these parties were exclusive, and you never were much of a student..."

Trelawney had taken Hermione's hand and was shaking her head disappointedly. Hermione felt her face grow hot and had a sudden urge to smack the witch over the head with the bottle of alcohol from which the woman was currently swigging.

"Actually," Cormac piped up, wrenching Hermione's hand away from the older witch's grasp, "Hermione is the top student in her year and has been every term since she started at Hogwarts."

Hermione blinked and looked at Cormac, who was staring daggers at the Divination professor.

"I...well, y-yes," Trelawney stuttered, "in subjects graded on text book study, but..."

Cormac's face was unchanging, and the woman chose not to finish her sentence. Instead, she craned her head up much like a giraffe reaching for food in a tree and called out, "Oh, Severus, there you are!"

Hermione turned her neck just in time to see the swish of Snape's billowing black robes disappear into the crowd. Trelawney scurried off quickly after him, stumbling over her elaborate attire and nearly dropping her jug of liquor.

Turning to McLaggen, Hermione smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Cormac."

He shook his head, clearly still agitated from the encounter. "She's a tart," he commented dryly.

Though Hermione couldn't have agreed more, she chose to be respectful and settled for an acknowledging smile.

"Come on," Cormac said, placing his hand on her lower back. "Let's go somewhere where we can hear ourselves think."

He led her past the other guests, her neatly styled hair falling out of place as it brushed against the large Christmas tree in the center of the room. So much for looking presentable. They walked into an adjoining room, one that she had been previously unaware of, and he sat them down at a bench on the far wall.

Before he said a word, he pulled a gold flask out of the inner pocket of his robes and drank from it heavily.

"What are you drinking?" Hermione asked disapprovingly.

"Firewhiskey," Cormac replied, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at the sides of his mouth politely. "Would you like to try some?" he added, offering her the flask.

"No, thank you," she said, eyeing the drink warily. She hardly ever drank and couldn't imagine the spectacle she would make of herself if she indulged in liquor as powerful as firewhiskey.

Cormac shrugged his shoulders, taking another deep swill from the flask. "Did I ever tell you," he said, smiling at her, "about the time I made a hundred saves in one season on my city's division Quidditch League?"

"Er...no..." she replied, feigning interest.

Apparently he saw through her ruse and proceeded to scope out the room, as if a different topic of conversation would jump out at him from one of the portraits. "Hey, look," he said out of nowhere, pointing above his head, "mistletoe."

Hermione did her best not to gawk at him and chose to change the subject instead. "I'm just going to go get another glass of punch," she said politely, extracting herself from the seat.

"I'll get it..." Cormac replied, moving to get up himself.

"No, really, it's okay. I wanted to see if Harry was here anyways. I'd like to say hi. I haven't seen much of him lately."

Cormac shrugged his shoulders and stayed in his seat, alternating sips from his flask and his cup of mead.

No sooner had she walked through the door and back into the party than she heard Harry calling to her.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness!" she said, shuffling up to her friend. "Hi, Luna!"

"What's happened to you?" Harry asked, staring at her hair.

She rolled her eyes, snorting. "Oh, I've just escaped...I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.

"Serves you right for coming with him," he said severely.

She shook her head, looking away from him. Sure, he could say that. He'd had loads of girls fighting with each other for the chance to be his date to the party. She'd only had one invitation.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," she replied in a half-truth. She was sure her attending the party with Cormac would definitely annoy Ron, though that wasn't the only reason she'd gone with him. Harry hadn't even thought of asking her, and they were supposed to be best friends! The reality was that she was lonely, and being the only one at the party without a date would just have reminded her of that fact. She suddenly felt like just going back to her dorm room...

"Let's get something straight," Harry said seriously, lowering his voice so that Luna couldn't hear him. "Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"

What a double-edged question, she thought. She hadn't even been the one who'd interfered at tryouts, though she had allowed Harry to think she had done it...

"Do you really think I'd stoop that low?" she finally replied, deciding that was the most appropriate answer. She wasn't really lying one way or the other after all...

"Good," Harry answered. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match..."

"Quidditch!" she said angrily. "Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me a single question about myself. No, I've just been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves by Cormac McLaggen' nonstop ever since...oh, no, here he comes!"

Hermione darted toward the back of the room, not wanting to be in the middle of a Harry/Cormac argument. She was sure it would only lead to a discussion involving Ron, and that was one conversation in which she did not wish to be a participant.

"Cormac!" Hermione called once he was out of range of Harry. "Back here."

Her date came sauntering toward her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her once again into the other area.

"Too loud in there," he commented and sat down on the bench once again. Grudgingly, Hermione took her seat beside him, sipping on the glass of punch she'd picked up on the way back into the adjoined room.

"So have you heard about Katie?" Cormac asked casually.

"No, what about her?" Hermione replied eagerly.

"She's out of her coma. She still has to stay in St. Mungo's for a bit, but they say she'll make a full recovery in time." His words were starting to draw out a bit, and he offered her the flask again, which she waved off politely once more.

"Who did you hear that from?" she asked him as he took yet another large gulp of firewhiskey.

"Dun remember," her replied, tipping his flask upside down above his head and peeking into the hole with one eye closed. "Bugger," he said disappointedly, tucking the empty case back inside his robes. "Wanna dance?" he slurred, looking at Hermione.

"Er..." She sized him up with her eyes. He was definitely buzzed, if not bordering on drunk. "There's no music, Cormac."

"So?" he countered defiantly.

"So we can't dance, then..." she said, furrowing her brow and shrugging her shoulders as if to say, "duhhhh."

"Bollocks," he snapped back at her, rising from his seat and grabbing her arm.

"Cormac, I don't want to dance," she said, wrenching her arm out of his grasp.

"You're my date," he said obviously.

"And?" she replied in a voice that clearly implied his answer had made no sense.

"And so you have tuh dance with me, thass what!" he nearly shouted, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm going back to the party," she said, brushing past him.

He grabbed her arm again, and she paused, shooting him a dangerous look.

"Let go," she said slowly and sharply, attempting to leave no room for argument.

"All right, I'll let go," he said, his eyes raking over her body, "if you kiss me."

"Dream on," she replied disbelievingly, pulling on her arm, though Cormac did not relinquish his grip on it.

"Why? Yer little boyfriend has a girl. You're single," he said, his eyes on her waist.

"Single, not stupid," she replied, glaring at him.

"You really are a frigid bitch," he said coldly and clearly.

"Let me go, Cormac," she said dangerously, attempting to restrain her anger.

"No," he said finitely.

"Let...me...go," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Or what?" he said tauntingly. "Yull use your wand on me, Perfect Prefect Granger? You know the rules. Ye' can't hex me."

"No, but I can."

A sudden stream of white light shot past her ear and hit Cormac directly on the shoulder.

"Aaargh!" he cried, letting go of Hermione's wrist and clutching at his arm.

She whipped her head around to see Snape standing behind her, wand pointed at her would-be attacker.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor," he spat venomously, anger shining in his eyes, "and you will have detention with Mr. Filch every Saturday for the rest of the year. Now apologize to Miss Granger for being a nasty piece of work, and then return to your common room."

Cormac looked flustered and frightened and took a step forward, still rubbing his injured arm.

Snape's wand twitched. "No," he snapped, halting McLaggen. "Say it from there."

McLaggen lowered his head, muttering, "Sorry, Hermione."

"Louder," Snape commanded authoritatively, "and articulate to Miss Granger exactly what it is you are apologizing for."

"I'm sorry," McLaggen said clearly and then paused, apparently trying to decide which answer Snape would accept. "I...I'm sorry for grab..."

"Wrong," Snape cut in, his voice low and dangerous. "Try again."

"I..." he began, looking up at Snape's face. His eyes widened at the livid expression the professor was wearing, and he turned his eyes to Hermione. "I'm sorry for being a nasty piece of work," he concluded, and Snape lowered his wand.

"Now go to your common room," Snape ordered, leaving no room for argument. "And Mr. McLaggen," he added as Cormac paused in the archway, "I do not want to see you for the rest of the evening. Do I make myself clear?"

McLaggen nodded, though he was still facing toward the door, and Hermione only saw the motion from the back of his head. He exited the room, and Hermione turned to Snape.

She supposed she should have been grateful, and she would have been, if her rescuer had been anyone other than Snape. Coming to her rescue was an act she did not want him to feel he needed to perform. When she was with Professor Snape, she felt like an adult...an equal amidst a fellow inquisitive mind. What he'd just done had made her feel childish and inept, and the contrast in feelings was confusing her. She looked at him seriously.

"I could have handled it myself, you know," she said clearly.

"Of course you could have," he answered immediately, surprising her. "And you would have been in serious trouble for hexing a fellow student. Do not be stupid, Hermione."

Her eyes widened, as did his...he had just called her by her first name.

But before either of them could comment on slipup, Professor Slughorn's stubby fingers wrapped around Snape's shoulder. The portly man stepped through the doorway, voice booming.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" Slughorn hiccupped merrily, pulling Snape toward the other room. And, just like that, Snape disappeared with him into the crowd.

Hermione spent a few more minutes by herself in the back room, part of her seeking quiet contemplation and part of her, to her own surprise, wanting Snape to rejoin her so that they could finish their conversation.

Hermione, he had called her. Of course, it was her name... though she had never heard Snape refer to anyone by their first name...with the exception of his colleagues, of course.

Did this mean that he thought of her as a fellow adult, an equal, perhaps? More likely than not, it was a simple lapse in thought. He had been incensed with McLaggen and was probably just too angry to think clearly... though, that alone was a separate subject to ponder. Just why had he been so angry? She had seen him yell at students before...Neville practically got a tongue lashing from the man on a daily basis. But he had been different just then, and she had seen the way he'd looked at Cormac. Snape hadn't looked as if he'd wanted to punish him; he'd looked as if he'd wanted to murder him.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It had been nearly twenty minutes since the confrontation, and Snape had not returned. She presumed he was either still enjoying the party, or else he'd gone back to his chambers for the night.

She turned and walked through the still-bustling crowd, noticing that Harry and Luna were nowhere to be seen. Sighing, she reached the exit door, stopping short when she nearly bumped right smack into Snape.

She inhaled sharply. "P..."

"A word," he said at a near whisper and motioned toward the hallway. She followed him all the way down the corridor and into the second floor staffroom.

He waved his wand at the door, and it shut itself tightly, its lock clicking into place. Hermione watched him carefully, hardly daring to breathe. She had no idea what this meeting was about, but she hoped he was not about to apologize for his use of her given name during their last conversation. She had liked his use of it, and though she knew that he would probably never refer to her in such a casual way again, she didn't want him to regret the event, either.

"The Headmaster has just sent me an urgent message, and it involves you," he said purposefully.

Hermione's heart rose in her throat. With all the Muggle raids the Death Eaters had been performing lately...

Snape seemed to read her mind and waved a hand at her. "Your parents are fine. The message is in regards to your plans for the Christmas break."

She nodded at him, relieved.

"You were planning to return to your parents' home for the holidays, were you not?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

He declined his chin. "Well then, this will not be a pleasant request," he continued, looking away from her. "The Headmaster and I have undertaken a project that is to be completed over the Christmas break. Unfortunately, unforeseen circumstances will not allow him the time needed to participate in the process. It is an undertaking that will require two people and, regretfully, one that I cannot complete alone."

"So," she clarified, "you want me to stay over the break to help you?"

He looked at her carefully, apparently gauging her response. "I realize that you would prefer to spend the holiday at home with your family, and I assure you that the Headmaster and I would not ask this of you if it were not completely necessary," he finished, his face a blank canvas.

"I would be more than happy to stay," she said, giving a slight smile. "I'll just have to write to mum and dad and let them know I won't be there for Christmas. It's awfully short notice..."

"An unavoidable complication, I assure you. Of course, I shall be able to manage without assistance on Christmas morning. The Headmaster has assured me that he will secure a Portkey for you for the day so that you may partake in the celebrations with your family."

"Oh, then they won't mind," Hermione replied happily. "We're not much for celebrating Christmas anyhow with the exception of the presents bit."

"Good," Snape replied, pointing his wand at the door and unlocking it with a silent spell. "Then I shall see you in the laboratory tomorrow morning?"

"Absolutely, sir," she answered. "What time should I be there?"

"Any time after ten o'clock," he answered, walking toward the door, Hermione following closely behind him. "I may not be there, as I have...obligations...in the morning. If that is the case, just wait for me. I should not be gone much longer than that."

"But if you're not there, how will I get in?" she asked.

"I have altered my wards to admit you," he replied nonchalantly, opening the door and glancing down the hallway. He seemed to have glimpsed something of interest, and he strode purposefully away from her down the corridor.

She watched him disappear down the stairway and found herself in an almost ethereal state at the thought of the coming day. There would be no boring holiday at home listening to stories about her parents' dental practice... no lonely nights in her twin bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars she'd had on her ceiling since she was six. No, none of that for her on this particular holiday. This year she had a mission...a purposeful one...and she was almost giddy with the prospect of her Christmas break not being wasted. Instead, she would be working alongside the one person at the school with whom she could actually hold an intellectual conversation. Her outlook on the weeks that were to follow had just taken a whole different direction, and for that, she couldn't have been more grateful.