Birthday Surprises

Phoenix Song, Chapter nine : Birthday Surprises

DISCLAIMER : The characters and many of the situations described in this story are the property of the incomparable J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute.

I'd like to thank my betas: LAxo, for her time, her mad skills and her love of verb-subject agreements, and WriterMerrin...neither does she berate me for my errors nor does she leave them unacknowledged.

On Thursday morning, Harry and Ron waited for Hermione in the common room before breakfast. When she arrived, they made a big fuss of her and escorted her down to the dining hall as a guard of honour, one either side, their arms linked in hers. They cleared the way with loud cries, and their mock heroics and elaborate gallantry had her laughing and flushed with pleasure. It went a long way towards making up for the fact that Harry had inconsiderately scheduled the first Quidditch practice of the season on the night of her seventeenth birthday. You only come of age once, and Hermione couldn't help feeling a little put out that Harry, Ron and Ginny would be spending the evening elsewhere.

They'd remembered, though, which was better than some other years. While Ron had thought it amusing to present her with The Idiots' Guide to Chess, Harry had given her an inordinately generous gift voucher to Flourish and Blotts. Thoughts of what she might buy with Harry's voucher were exciting enough that she found the grace to recognise the humour behind Ron's gift. She got mail from her parents, of course...a card, a letter, and another gift voucher; her mum had bought her a number of pieces of clothing while she was home, as well. And breakfast that day was wonderful. With good grace, Hermione managed to enjoy it rather than sit sulking over her prospective evening of solitary library research. Ron promised to go the entire meal without chewing with his mouth open, and very nearly succeeded. All in all, it was lovely to be the centre of attention for once, with all of her housemates, the DA members from other houses, and several of her other classmates coming over to wish her many happy returns.

It was thus with more reluctance than usual that she said goodbye to the boys and left the breakfast table to head to her first class. Close to the door of the Great Hall, she was stopped by a tiny blonde girl in a Slytherin tie.

"Are you Hermione Granger?" she asked in a clear but quiet voice.

"Yes," replied Hermione, bending down to the small girl's level. "But I'm afraid I don't know your name."

The girl, whoever she was, ignored the implied question. "I have a message for you from Professor Snape. He said to remind you that you have detention tonight, at eight o'clock, and that if you're late, you'll regret it."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in a silent exclamation of surprise. She turned towards the staff table. Snape was there, and for a moment she caught his eye before he turned away, a scowl twisting bitterly at his mouth. Hermione turned back to thank the girl for her trouble, but she was gone.

Huh, thought Hermione. Detention, he calls it? Well, she added, walking out of the Hall with a noticeable spring in her step, at least I won't be spending the evening alone.

Hermione was so excited about her first lesson with Snape that she got to the dungeons fifteen minutes early. For a long quarter of an hour, she paced up and down a nearby stretch of corridor, unwilling to be early, terrified of being late. Every twenty seconds or so, she checked her watch until finally, at precisely eight o'clock, she knocked on his door.

"Come in," he called.

"Good evening, Professor," said Hermione politely as she walked to the seat in front of his desk.

Snape didn't bother to look up from his grading, let alone reply. For several minutes, he continued to scratch comments on the essay before him as Hermione struggled with a growing urge to ask one of the many questions she had ready. Nervously, she rubbed at her scar through her school robes, right at the point where it crossed her collarbone.

Eventually, Snape sighed as if with annoyance and put down his quill. He neatened the pile of parchments in front of him, squaring up the corners, and pushed them to one side.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked, an angry edge to his voice.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly with surprise and she bit back a startled noise. Is this a trick question? she wondered, searching his face for some sign of the more relaxed man with whom she'd spoken in the hospital ward.

"Um, this isn't really a detention, is it?" By the end of the question, Hermione sounded uncertain.

Snape raised one eyebrow. "Why not?" he asked.

The anticipation Hermione had experienced all day dissolved quickly, leaving her throat dry and an unpleasant, congealed feeling in the pit of her stomach. She bit down sharply on her lower lip, unsure what to reply.

"Confunded anyone lately?" asked Snape.

Hermione froze. Panic thudded in her veins. Oh my God, how? I'm in so much trouble. How does he know? "I..." she began,

"Don't waste my time denying it, Miss Granger." He leaned forward across the table. "I saw you."

"How?" Her question was barely a whisper.

"You may not have noticed, Miss Granger, but there is a war on. Do you think we leave children out in the grounds, unattended, for hours at a time?"

Hermione felt dizzy. "What...?" She seemed unable to utter more than word at a time.

"What is going to happen to you? Hmm . . . an interesting question." Snape tapped one finger against his lip as he pretended to consider it. "Under normal circumstances, you'd be expelled. Potter, too...you know, I've always wanted to have him expelled."

Hermione found her voice, "Harry had nothing to do with it!"

"Really?" his voice dripped with disbelief. "So, Potter knows nothing about it, at all? I'm sure the news will come as a complete surprise."

Hermione bit down again on her lower lip. "He...oh, he found out about it afterwards, but it was all my fault!"

"Interesting. And what did he do after realising that his best friend had illegally interfered with the results of a sporting competition? Nothing, I imagine. How unspeakably noble. Perhaps not expulsion for Mr Potter, then, pity. Never mind, his lifetime Quidditch ban should console me somewhat." Snape smiled nastily. "I imagine that Mr Weasley will be banned, too."

Nausea flooded through Hermione's body in waves. "You mustn't...you mustn't involve them, Professor," she pleaded, "I alone am responsible for my actions; I am the one that should be punished."

"Interesting theory," pondered Snape. "However, once this story gets out, no-one will believe that the-boy-who-lived-to-make-news-headlines wasn't involved. It might be quite a blow to his reputation. Rita Skeeter will have a field day."

Hermione couldn't bear to hear any more. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hands. She'd fucked up, big time. I'm going to be expelled. Everyone will think Harry is a cheat. Ron is going to kill me.

"Do you know what happens now, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head wordlessly, her face still buried in her hands.

"Sit up, Miss Granger," he rebuked her. "You will answer me when I ask you a question!"

She sat up, quickly. Her face was pale with shock, and her eyes stood out sharply against the pallor of her skin. "Yes, sir," she gasped.

"Do you know what happens now, Miss Granger?" he repeated.

"No, sir."

"You and I are going to visit the headmaster, and you will tell him exactly what happened. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." It was as if she were looking down on the scene from a great height. She couldn't feel her limbs. She wondered how she would make it to Dumbledore's office without collapsing into a small heap.

Snape had left his seat and moved towards the fireplace. "Get up," he snapped.

She struggled to her feet. With an irritated noise, Snape reached out and took hold of her upper arm, pulling her towards him. At the same moment, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.

"Dumbledore's office!" he called loudly and pushed her forward into the green flames.

The spinning sensation of Floo travel lasted only a few seconds before Hermione was ejected, stumbling, at her destination.

She'd never been in the headmaster's office before, and it was surreal to find herself in a space that Harry had described to her several times. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk and looked up as she scrambled out onto his hearth.

"Good evening, Miss Granger!" he greeted her, smiling over his glasses. "I have been expecting you. Come, sit down. I imagine Severus has told you why you are here."

The professor had just stepped through the grate behind her, unfolding his lanky form gracefully and dusting off the front of his robes with one elegant hand. Hermione shot him a frightened glance.

"Yes," she offered nervously.

Hesitantly, she sat down. Dumbledore was still smiling at her, only intensifying the nervous clench of her stomach. Professor Snape didn't sit. He stood just behind and to the side of her, his arms crossed and an imposing look on his face.

"Albus," he said, "Miss Granger has something to tell you."

Dumbledore looked at her with an expression of mild curiosity. "Go ahead, my dear," he instructed encouragingly. "Would you like a lemon sherbet?"

"Ah, no thank you, sir." Hermione wasn't ready to watch his pleasant demeanour fade into anger, and she vaguely considered running from the room and throwing herself out the nearest window. Gryffindor, remember? she berated herself, and a small choked noise escaped her. Get on with it...at the very least, make it clear that Harry wasn't involved.

"Last Saturday," she began, concentrating her attention on an otherwise unremarkable section of Dumbledore's desk, "During the Gryffindor Quidditch trials, I happened to be sitting near Cormac McLaggen." She stole a glance upwards at Professor Snape. He was staring at the wall behind Dumbledore, his face completely devoid of emotion. "He was making a nuisance of himself, as usual, but I did my best to ignore him..."

"Pardon my interruption, Miss Granger," Dumbledore interpolated gently, "but what do you mean by 'nuisance'?"

"Um," she blushed, humiliation overlaying her fear and nervousness. "Looking at me and, um, saying rude things about my friends." Trying to explain McLaggen's behaviour and its effect on her made her feel like a stupid little girl. "I managed to ignore a lot of it, but then he said something really inappropriate about Ginny, and I lost my temper."

Dumbledore interrupted again, his face serious, "What did he say, exactly?"

"Er, he said, um, that he couldn't wait to look at her in the locker room while she was changing." Hermione wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Repeating McLaggen's comments aloud upset her all over again, as it made her feel stupid for having responded to such a trivial insult. She glanced sideways again at Snape. He hadn't moved.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, reprovingly. "What did you do in response?"

"I shouted at him, and I probably would have hexed him, but he had to go and take his trial." Hermione didn't think she could go on with the story, and she drew a long, shaky breath. Dumbledore conjured her a glass of water and pushed it towards her. She drank, deeply, and managed to continue. "He, um, McLaggen that is, was doing very well. And I did something very stupid...I just couldn't bear to think of him in the locker room with Ginny, and I," she paused for a second, then let it out in a rush, "I Confunded him. I'm so terribly sorry."

Dumbledore sighed. He removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "My dear girl," he began, "such comments would be more than enough to warrant his removal from any team. Why didn't you speak to your Head of House?"

"I didn't think, Professor." Hot tears prickled at her eyes, and one slid down her cheek. She scrubbed at it roughly with the heel of her hand. "I acted out of anger, I'm an idiot."

"There, there, Miss Granger," Dumbledore offered her a handkerchief. "No need for tears."

She took the proffered handkerchief gratefully, as her tears began to fall in earnest. "But, there is. Now you'll have to expel me, and I don't want..."

"Good gracious, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore sounded astonished. "There will be no need for your expulsion, whatever gave you that idea?"

"But..." relief and surprise warred for supremacy, "but I Confunded someone during a sporting event! That's illegal!"

"Well, yes, true. But under such extenuating circumstances . . . after all, justice was served in the end, even if the method was a little unorthodox."

Hermione's face was a study in blank disbelief. "But I should be punished..."

"Miss Granger," cut in Dumbledore, the humorous twinkle gone from his eye. "Do you want to be expelled?"

"No, of course not, but..."

"Good. Because we can't afford to expel you. Statistically, it would be a disaster for Harry's success."

Hermione stared at the headmaster. 39%, she thought. Everything Dumbledore had said in the last few minutes suddenly made perfect sense. She was going to get away with it. Not because she deserved to, certainly not because she had done the right thing, but because Harry was The Chosen One and Dumbledore wasn't prepared to punish her at the risk of jeopardising the fight against Voldemort. The twisted ethical implications of the situation left her feeling a little sick.

She looked up at Professor Snape. He was watching her closely, and as she met his eye, he raised one eyebrow. From the slight twist to his lips Hermione realised that he understood her complicated response to Dumbledore's decision. He had known all along that she wouldn't be punished. She pushed the thought aside to think about later.

Hermione looked back at Dumbledore. His twinkling-old-man persona was safely back in place. "Well, now that's settled, we can move onto other matters." He clapped his hands together and beamed at her. "Do sit down, Severus. There's no need for you to loom over us both."

Hermione expected Snape to snap at the headmaster, but he merely conjured himself a remarkably comfortable-looking chair and sat down. Dumbledore summoned a bottle and some glasses from a nearby table and made himself busy pouring drinks. For the first time since her unceremonious arrival in his fireplace, Dumbledore's blackened hand was in full view. Hermione tried not to stare at it and, instead, took the opportunity to glance around the room. She drank in the sight of Fawkes, the phoenix, and Dumbledore's many books and weird gadgets. Vaguely, she wondered why she was there. Her thoughts were interrupted when Dumbledore offered her a glass of amber liquid. She took it and sniffed at it dubiously: it was clearly Firewhiskey.

"Um, sir," she began, hesitantly.

"Today is your birthday, is it not?" queried Dumbledore, smiling.

"Yes. It is." Hermione couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.

"Well, then, as an adult member of the wizarding world, you can now assume full rights to many things. Drink, among them. Normally, of course, drinking on school grounds is not permitted by students of any age, but I think we can make an exception for tonight." Dumbledore held up his glass. "Many happy returns," he exclaimed.

Professor Snape did the same thing, and Hermione was astounded to find herself clinking glasses with Snape and Dumbledore to drink a birthday toast. Her first mouthful of Firewhiskey burned her throat and left her spluttering. Dumbledore chuckled, and she thought she caught a glimpse of amusement in Snape's dark eyes.

"It does take a little getting used to," said the headmaster kindly.

"Albus," drawled Snape, "I think it's time that we got to the point."

Hermione looked curiously from one man to the other.

"You're right, as usual, Severus," agreed Dumbledore. "Well, Miss Granger, with the achievement of your majority, it is my great pleasure to invite you to join the Order of the Phoenix. As you have no legal guardian in the magical world, the decision is yours to make alone."

Hermione's heart was beating almost painfully hard. "Oh...of course. Yes. I mean, of course I will," she replied, incoherent in her enthusiasm.

"Not so fast, Miss Granger," Professor Snape cut across her pleased babbling. "You are about to make a binding magical oath. It will require you to place the needs of the Order above your own desires, to act according to instructions...whether you like them or not. It will require you to keep secrets from your friends and, occasionally, to lie to them. Are you prepared to commit yourself to the Order, even unto death?"

Dumbledore was nodding gravely.

"Of course, I am!" She looked from Dumbledore to Snape and back again. "I'm ready," she said resolutely, unconsciously reaching to rub at the top of her scar. "I've been preparing for the fight against Voldemort since the day I arrived at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore gave her a warm smile. "I'm proud of you, Miss Granger. I expected nothing less. The task that I will ask of you is in one sense very difficult, but also perhaps nothing more than you might have done on your own: your mission is to keep Harry alive. There will come a time when this might mean contradicting other Order members. There will be instances where the right choice is not necessarily easy to discern. Through it, however, I want you to remember that your loyalty...as a full member of the Order and as Harry's friend...is to him and to the task that lies before him."

Hermione creased her brows slightly at his words: where Snape had warned her that she would need to prioritise the Order over Harry, Dumbledore had suggested the opposite. "I have every intention of standing by Harry, sir," she glanced at Snape. "Both to keep him alive and to follow him unto death if necessary."

Dumbledore took out his wand and gestured for her to do the same. He reached across the desk with his blackened hand and touched the tip of his wand to hers. Snape rose smoothly to his feet and lowered his wand vertically between theirs, until the three wandpoints met in two right angles.

"Repeat after me," instructed Snape. "I, Hermione Jean Granger," Hermione blinked with surprise that he knew her middle name, "pledge my loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix, under the leadership of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

As Hermione echoed the words of the oath, the tip of her wand glowed gold.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, accept your fealty to the Order of the Phoenix and welcome your assistance in the fight against Voldemort." At his words, Dumbledore's wand glowed, too, and the light reflected off the faces of the three participants.

"I, Severus Tobias Snape, witness this oath and proclaim it as binding, on this day, Thursday, September 19, 1996."

The light in the room grew so bright that Hermione had to squint her eyes against the golden glare. Fawkes let out a single resonant note. It spread through her body like a flush of pleasure. As the musical sound of his cry faded, so did the light, and the room around her came into focus once more.

Snape returned to his seat, and Dumbledore beamed at her as he polished his glasses on the long sleeve of his robes.

"I think that deserves another toast," he proclaimed. "To the newest member of the Order!"

Once again, Hermione clinked her glass and drank another toast, although this time her sip of Firewhiskey was slightly more circumspect.

"Now, then, Miss Granger," remarked Dumbledore. "Before you toddle off to bed, there are just a few more things we should discuss."

The warmth of the whiskey was pooled in Hermione's stomach. "Very good, sir," she replied, obediently, sitting up slightly straighter.

"While your primary task as an Order member is the most important thing you need to do, I imagine that it need not take up much of your time on a day-to-day basis, at least for now." He smiled at her. "I would like you, therefore, to focus your admirable intellectual powers on two specific projects. The first of these is the Arithmantic calculations...I believe that Professor Vector has already spoken to you on this topic." Hermione nodded. "The other is your lessons with Professor Snape. There are many ways in which both of these projects may prove more important than your regular scheduled classes." Hermione went to speak, but Dumbledore continued before she had a chance. "As your work in this regard falls under the category of your responsibilities as an Order member, and not as a student, neither Professor Vector nor Professor Snape will be able to award or deduct house points nor give detentions. I trust that you will find other motivations in order to strive and succeed."

Hermione couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Professor Snape. He caught her look and the upward twitch of her lips as Dumbledore mentioned the house points.

"Be aware, Miss Granger," he sneered, "I can still deduct points at any other time."

"Yes, sir." There was laughter underlying her reply, and she washed it down with another mouthful of Firewhiskey. The taste was definitely growing on her.

"I feel sure that there is no need to remind you," continued Dumbledore, "that this meeting, and every other meeting, must remain strictly confidential. You are not to reveal the contents of your meetings with Professors Snape and Vector to anyone outside this room...not even other members of the Order. Similarly, your induction into the Order will remain known to only a limited few. I am confident that I can rely on your discretion."

"Yes, sir," she replied, this time with complete sincerity.

Snape finished the last of his whiskey with a long swallow and placed his empty glass on the desk with a decisive thud. "Miss Granger,"...he managed to make her name a command..."if you hurry, you will make it back before curfew."

A glance at her watch was sufficient to verify the truth of his words. With an "Oh" of surprise, she rose to her feet. "Professor Dumbledore," she began, "thank you." She turned towards Snape. "When shall we have our first..."

"Tuesday," he interrupted her. "Now get out."

Hermione took one last look around the room, her eyes lingering for a second on the figure of Fawkes, then did just that. Soon after, she lay in her bed, her head swimming with the various and unexpected turns of her evening. This year, she thought just as she drifted off to sleep, my birthday truly left me feeling older than I did before.