Part III: For Circes Sake

Part III: For Circe’s Sake

When Hermione was released from the hospital a week later, she dreaded the coming evening. No longer could she put off the prearranged dates. She was afraid of who Circe had set her up with, as no amount of coaxing would loosen the witch’s lips.

As evening fell, she paced her room, waiting for her doom. Five seconds past the strike of seven, a knock on her door sounded.

Quickly she checked her reflection and finding it sufficient opened the door only to slam it shut.

Breathing deeply to calm herself, she reopened the door to a furious Professor Snape.

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“What was the meaning of that, Miss Granger?” Snape growled through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry, Professor; you startled me,” she explained. “I’m expecting someone else.”

“Unfortunately, your expectations will not be met. I am here to...” Snape’s face wrinkled in disgust, “escort you.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open as she stared at her professor. “You? But, you’re my teacher!”

“Very astute, Miss Granger,” he snarked. “Disturbingly, your grandmother doesn’t care.”

Hermione’s face grew hard with anger, but Snape was surprised to find it wasn’t aimed at him.

“That conniving, meddlesome, interfering old wench. I won’t let her get away with this.”

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“Well, well, aren’t you the vengeful little one?” Snape smirked in concurrence of Hermione’s ire.

Hermione looked up at him with a gleam in her eye and said, “Well, are you going to help me wreak vengeance, or shall I do it all myself?”

“We can’t do anything before the Dark Lord is defeated,” Snape said, looking down at her thoughtfully. “Circe’s assistance is too valuable. However, it seems I have to spend three hours with you tonight. We might as well use it constructively to plan for the future.”

Hermione smiled, inviting him in for some tea and plotting.

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They surprised each other by plotting amicably, debating the merits of different revenges in a relaxed, almost friendly, fashion. Snape was impressed by Hermione’s guile while Hermione marveled at Snape’s casual demeanor.

All went well until the three hours were up. Snape suddenly became tense and unpleasant once more.

“Has Circe told you the conditions of each date?” he asked tightly.

Hermione paled slightly and nodded, getting up to lead Snape out.

Snape sighed with disgust as he reached the door. “Understand that this is for the sake of the Order,” said he, then pecked her quickly on the lips.

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The next date started awkwardly as they were confronted by Circe.

“You can’t stay in all the time, you two. I’ve said at least fifteen of your dates need to be outside castle walls. Go take her to a movie and shoo!” she exclaimed, shoving them out the castle doors.

Snape rubbed his arm where Circe had held it a little too tightly, his thin lips pursed. Glancing over at Hermione, he noticed she had fared no better as her reddened ear proved.

“Shall we keep a tally of physical injuries?” Hermione asked.

Snape glanced her way, lips quirking up.

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Their evening was spent at the Three Broomsticks discussing ground rules for their dates. They concurred Order business would be avoided, as would talk of Voldemort. Snape refused to talk about himself, and Hermione conceded weather was a safer topic.

They found neither was fond of frostbite or damp socks and agreed to take advantage of any good weather, staying in when it turned foul. They set up a tentative schedule, adjustable as needed, for trips to the apothecary and other such errands.

By evening’s end, they chanted dully, “For the good of the Order,” as they kissed goodnight.

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By the time their third date came, the whole school was murmuring about the Head Girl and the Potions master. As the two headed to Hogsmeade, they were confronted by an angry Draco.

“Professor Snape, sir,” he said mockingly, “Are the rumors true? Are you seeing the Mudblood behind Dumbledore’s back?”

“I would take care of how you address Miss Granger, Draco,” Snape said warningly.

“Oh sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Be more concerned about not offending her grandmother- Circe.”

Draco’s eyes widened in horror and shifted onto Hermione, who smirked.

“Careful who you call dirty, Malfoy.”

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A large gathering of Slytherins confronted them as they returned to the castle three hours later. Hermione looked at the threatening crowd before her and unconsciously edged closer to the Professor.

“Is it true, Granger? Is Circe really your grandmother?” a fifth year asked.

“Yes,” was all she said before the crowd before her broke out in angry rumblings. She heard the word Mudblood tossed around a few times before a low voice whispered in her ear:

“Come, I’ll take you to your door. Let the children work out the politics by themselves.”

She nodded silently, grateful for the escort.

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“Thank you,” Hermione said softly, as they reached the Fat Lady. Snape inclined his head in response, then lowered his lips to hers. She thought the kiss lasted fractionally longer than the previous two, but chalked it up to imagination when he turned abruptly, striding off without a backward glance.

When she stepped through the portrait hole, she was confronted with more angry glares, this time from Gryffindors.

“Is it true?” demanded Ron, furiously. “Are you dating the Greasy Git?”

“Yes, but not willingly,” Hermione answered calmly.

“He’s forcing you?” Ron cried, anger mounting.

Hermione grimaced. “No, my grandmother is.”

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Upon Hermione’s pronouncement, the angry glares became pitying stares. It took Ron half a second before comprehension dawned, and he enveloped her in a sympathetic hug.

“Does she hate you?” Ginny asked later as they sat round the fire.

“Not that I know of. This is her way of helping me.”

“Why the Greasy Git, though?” asked Harry.

“Professor Snape,” Hermione rebuked, then sighed. “Apparently, she considers him the best option for me. And to be fair, he’s not that greasy close-up.”

As one, her friends said, “Ew!” not wanting any details.

“Please, don’t enlighten us,” Ron begged, looking green.

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AN: Next up, more dates, a movie, fluff and... feelings?