Chapter 2

Characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

The following morning, Hermione awoke to a tapping on her window. Rubbing her bleary eyes, she glanced at her bedside clock and was surprised to see it was ten minutes to nine. Well, she'd missed breakfast, that was for sure. Tossing the covers aside, Hermione moved to let in the owl perching on her windowsill...it was Harry and Ginny's owl. Hermione sighed; no doubt it was a missive lamenting the end of her and Ron's relationship.

Before opening it, Hermione decided she would get dressed and head to the kitchens for a cup of tea to blow away the early morning cobwebs. Possibly she would get a piece of toast, too. Noticing the promising weather outside, Hermione mused that it might be nice to spend her Sunday morning outdoors. She would take a quill and parchment, find somewhere pleasant to sit, and then compose a response to their letter.

Half an hour later, after losing the battle with the bane of her life...her hair (in the end she'd simply snapped a bobble around it)...Hermione made her way to the kitchens, chatting briefly with the house-elves, and then headed for the quiet quadrangle opposite the Transfiguration classroom. It had been one of her favourite places to sit and study as a student.

Several students greeted her as they passed in the corridor and Hermione reciprocated with pleasure. She had no idea who any of them were and wondered how on earth she would remember the association between so many names and so many different faces.

The quadrangle was empty, apart from a pair of young girls who seemed to be exploring by the way they were peering closely at everything. Hermione sat down on a bench and pulled out the letter from Harry...it was relatively short. She knew Harry would be disappointed, and indeed, Ginny as well, but the letter didn't indicate any surprise on their part. She smiled at the thought of her two friends. Hermione hoped one day she would be as happy with someone.

She began writing out a reply, expressing her gratitude for their concern. It occurred to her that she should also write to her parents, so she extracted another piece of parchment and started what turned out to be a rather lengthy letter.

She was addressing the envelopes when she heard her name being called.

'Ah, good morning, Minerva,' called Hermione pleasantly. 'I'm just writing a couple of letters.'

Minerva noticed the addresses. 'How are your parents, my dear?'

'Very well, thank you; they came rather close to remaining in Australia, even after I returned their memories. I'm happy to say, though, that in the end they missed home too much.'

'And Mr Potter and Miss Weasley?'

'Never better. Uh, Ron and I have ended things you see...' began Hermione, a fraction awkwardly.

'Oh no! I had no idea! Oh dear; was it because you took the job here?' Minerva sat beside Hermione and patted her hand gently.

Hermione smiled gratefully at the older woman's concern. 'Partly, but mostly we had been beginning to grow apart for a long time. We want different things from life... I'm sad about it, of course, but it was for the best, I'm sure. We are still on good terms, and that is the most important thing.'

'No doubt, Hermione. Well, you have a busy week ahead of you to monopolise your attentions away from your sadness. You know where I am if you need a chat.' Minerva smiled kindly. 'I'm afraid I must be off. I've a meeting to attend about Quidditch scheduling...it's riveting stuff, I assure you, but I must negotiate the best terms for Gryffindor if we are to win this year! Hufflepuff actually won the cup last year, can you believe it?'

Hermione laughed.

After the older woman had left, Hermione sat quietly for a few moments before beginning the walk to the Owlery, not for the first time wondering if she should finally get an owl of her own. Maybe, when she got her pay at the end of the month, she would travel to Diagon Alley and have a look in Eyelops' Owl Emporium.

Her correspondence was soon winging its way south, and Hermione spent a few moments at the top of the Owlery tower appreciating the vista before her.

Examining the grounds, she was surprised to see a small flash of orange. Moving around the tower to get a better view, she could see several intermittent orange flashes. Were they flames? What appeared to be small, black creatures were scuttling around the lawns, and she witnessed Hagrid appear from the side of his hut, brandishing his pink umbrella. Oh, God...Hermione sincerely hoped he hadn't been illegally breeding Blast-Ended Skrewts again!

'Don't fall, don't fall, please don't fall,' repeated Hermione to herself as she ran quickly down the winding Owlery steps and then down the hill to Hagrid.

As Hermione got closer, she could see they were not Skrewts, but Fire Crabs. Nearby was a large crate that had been opened. Mindful of the small jets of flame that would periodically expel from the creatures, Hermione finally reached Hagrid.

'What happened?'

Hagrid was trying to usher the crabs back into their crate, and Hermione squealed loudly when Hagrid's beard caught fire.

'Aguamenti!' she cried, pointing her wand at him.

'Thanks, 'Ermione; look, could yer give me a hand? Some bloody students spelled open me casement of Fire Crabs.'

Students? Hermione looked around quickly, worried that someone could get hurt. She could see no students, but she could see Snape striding briskly over the grounds.

'Hang on, Hagrid, let me jinx them onto their backs, and then you can lift them quickly into the crate.'

There were six altogether, and there was only one left to deal with when Snape reached them, his hair whipping slightly in the autumn breeze. Hermione was suddenly aware of the strands of her own hair tickling her face and realised it probably looked a fright after her rapid descent from the Owlery.

'What, may I ask, is going on here?'

'Ah, I'm sorry, 'Eadmaster, it were some students interferin' with me casement of Fire Crabs from the Ministry.' Hagrid patted his beard free of broken and burnt hair.

'Students?' repeated Snape quietly. 'Where...?'

Hagrid indicated with his eyes the nearby copse of trees that made up the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Snape nodded fractionally.

The remaining Fire Crab suddenly sent a jet of flame towards one of Hagrid's pumpkins, causing the half-giant to sigh heavily with dismay. Hermione silently extinguished the flames, but froze when she heard a very muffled giggle. She wasn't the only one to hear it. Snape's wand was out and aimed at the trees. A large, white light sped with a crack into the woods and Hermione watched it break up. A few seconds later, three young boys appeared, being dragged by their collars as if by an invisible hand. Their struggles were futile, and Hermione had to suppress a small smile at how effectively they'd been caught.

'We'll see how funny you find it when you are cleaning out the Owlery... without magic,' snarled Snape. There were groans but no protests...they knew they'd been caught fair and square.

'Apologise immediately to Professor Hagrid with the assurance that no, you won't mind mucking out the Thestrals either,' purred Snape delicately.

This time indignation caused all three to gasp and glare. None, however, had the courage to challenge the punishment. They apologised rather sullenly to Hagrid, whereupon Snape flicked his wand in the direction of the castle. The invisible hands began dragging them uphill.

'You will wait for me by the hourglasses in the Entrance Hall, where we will witness together just how many points are going to be deducted,' Snape called after them. Then he turned to Hagrid with a frown. 'Try to keep a closer eye on your creatures, Hagrid...this is a school, not a zoo.'

Hermione was going to speak out on behalf of Hagrid, before realising it was not her place. Snape glanced at her as if challenging her to protest, but Hermione merely watched him evenly. Besides, he had a point.

Hagrid nodded. 'You're righ' o'course, Professor; it won' 'appen again!'

'Good day to you both.' With those parting words Snape left them to join his misbehaving students.

Hermione watched his robes billow for a moment before turning to Hagrid cheerfully. 'How about some tea, Hagrid?'

Hagrid was inspecting the damage to his pumpkin...it was black.

'Sounds good teh me. Oh! I made some of me rock cakes; I know yer like 'em!'

Hermione smiled weakly as she entered Hagrid's hut.

****

Late afternoon found Hermione seated at the large, round table in the staff room. She had with her all her third year materials; tomorrow was her first lesson with them and she wanted to make a good impression. After all, they had just signed on to three years of her subject, and she did not want half of them to have dropped it for another subject by the end of the week!

The room was reasonably quiet. Snape had entered a short while ago to converse with Horace and hadn't so much as glanced in Hermione's direction. Now, he appeared to be dealing with a house-elf, and as Hermione got up to make some tea, she realised he was reading several menus. Hmm, so Snape had final say on what ended up on the tables at dinner.

Upon reaching the sideboard, Hermione began filling the kettle with her wand and hummed rather absently under her breath.

'One sugar and just a drop of milk will do nicely, Professor.'

Hermione blinked and gave a sidelong glance at the back of the chair in which Snape sat. He wasn't looking at her; he was still dealing with the house-elf. She shrugged; it was probably rude of her not to offer in the first place. As the kettle boiled, Hermione reached for the crockery. Was Snape the cup and saucer type? Probably not, she reasoned, and picked up a white mug.

On her way back to her spot, Hermione placed the mug down gently on the small coffee table near his feet. He didn't say anything; he merely flicked his eyes briefly towards her. Well, he'd been good to her last night, so Hermione decided she'd let him have this bout of aloofness.

Settling back down, she surreptitiously observed him take a sip from the mug. Yes, her vanity did extend to wanting to know if he liked her tea or not, and Hermione wasn't ashamed to admit it. Was that...? Ah, yes, that was a definite wince. Hermione immediately dropped her gaze to her parchments.

Shortly, the entrance of Minerva and Pomona broke the quiet. Hermione waved them over to her. 'I'm preparing for my third-years tomorrow.'

Minerva nodded, took a seat and pulled the register of names towards her. 'Watch out for Mr. Huckleby as he can be rather disruptive when he feels like it. He doesn't have an aptitude for much, and I wouldn't be surprised it he chose Muggle Studies expecting an easy ride. He's a Slytherin, and Horace has had no end of trouble with him.'

Pomona huffed in agreement.

'Hmm, I see; thank you for letting me know.' Hermione would make sure to suss him out as soon as possible. There would be no easy ride for him, or anyone for that matter.

Out of her peripheral vision, Hermione could see Snape stand up. The thought that he might be getting up to toss his tea down the sink crossed her mind, and Hermione defiantly took a long sip of her own. Worse though, he approached the table.

'My dear, you do have a rather large third-year class,' commented Pomona, who was now inspecting the list of names.

'I was going to mention that,' replied Hermione with interest. 'Is this a lot more than usual?'

'But of course, Professor Granger, it is not every day Muggle Studies is taught by a celebrity.'

It was Snape who had spoken, and Hermione winced inwardly at his deeply disdainful tone. It disappointed her to think that students had chosen her class because they were impressed by her notoriety or, more likely, her friendship with Harry.

Her disappointment must have shown, for Minerva patted her gently on the arm. 'Well, it doesn't matter what attracted them there in the first place as long as they are learning! Besides, you should have seen how many sixth-year girls signed up for Advanced Muggle Studies last year when they found out our illustrious Headmaster, here, would be teaching it!'

Snape scowled severely at his deputy, while Minerva merely gave a small wink in Hermione's direction.

Hermione, emboldened by Minerva's presence, plastered a look of dawning comprehension on her face. 'Ah! I wondered why there was a crowd of girls glaring daggers at me all lesson on Thursday! Bless them, they must be so disappointed.'

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from laughing aloud. She was wary of Snape's reaction and didn't dare look at him. The other two ladies felt no such compunction and chuckled freely.

'Indeed, it is all very funny,' purred Snape, his tone suggesting very much to the contrary, 'and once I am sufficiently recovered from the effects of enduring such hilarity, I would like to speak with you, Pomona, regarding ingredients for the Infirmary potions stock.' With a dismissive glare he stalked off, leaving the three witches still smiling.

'I didn't realise Professor Snape taught Muggle Studies last year,' said Hermione thoughtfully.

'Oh, indeed, he was the person with the most Muggle experience on staff last year and so he took on the advanced classes. I rather think he enjoyed teaching again, though I doubt Severus would ever admit to such a thing,' remarked Minerva. 'I have picked up enough to get by on over the years so I taught the third-years, and Rolanda Hooch had the fourth and fifth-years...'

They were suddenly interrupted by a well-known voice. 'Well then, what are we talking about, ladies?'

They all looked up to a large painting of a Scottish landscape on the wall.

'Albus! Are you eavesdropping again?' Pomona laughed.

'Certainly, dear; my two-dimensional life is very dull without it.' The old face smiled benignly down at them.

'You always were a gossip at heart, Albus,' commented Minerva with a shake of her head.

'Speaking of gossip, Severus tells me he is going to arrange for our Miss Granger to sit her N.E.W.T. examinations.'

Hermione suddenly found herself on the end of the twinkling, blue gaze, and centre of attention. 'Well, he said he would look into it for me. He, ah, caught me in the library buried in N.E.W.T. texts,' stated Hermione self-consciously.

Minerva laughed knowingly. 'I think it is wonderful, Hermione. I can only imagine how disappointed you were not to take them the first time around.'

'Yes, it is very good of Professor Snape to arrange it for me,' said Hermione.

'Indeed,' agreed the former Headmaster.

Hermione was vaguely uncomfortable when she detected a double meaning in his tone. Was she imagining it, or was Dumbledore implying an ulterior motive in Snape's generosity? It would be something to bear in mind, she decided.

****

Lunchtime, the following day, found Hermione slumped in her office with her head on the desk. She had reckoned it would happen sooner or later, but still, it hadn't meant she was entirely prepared. She had just had a nightmare of a lesson...a complete and utter nightmare. Well, that might be exaggerating a tad, but it could certainly be considered as such in the context of her fledgling teaching career. From the off, nothing had gone according to her careful preparations.

Firstly, she'd made the monumental mistake of arriving a few minutes after the bell had rung for the lesson to begin. Bloody Trelawney had cornered her after breakfast, parroting some nonsense about seeing the Grim in her cornflakes. Therefore, when she got to her classroom, her third-years were already feeling restless as they lined up in the corridor. Once settled, she'd given an introductory speech, and then set them a short task of jotting down anything that they knew about Muggles and the Muggle world. The lesson had gone downhill from there.

During the class discussion that had followed the exercise, Hermione handed out her first detention and deducted thirty points from, she was ashamed to say it, Gryffindor. The detention had been for a Slytherin boy who hexed a Gryffindor student completely green, and the points were for ignorant anti-Muggle jokes made by a pair of Gryffindor boys who clearly thought themselves hilarious.

Hermione was astounded by how oblivious some students were to the ways of Muggles. Despite the demarcation of two separate worlds, one for magical people and another for Muggles, both were intertwined. Hogsmeade was the only completely magical village in the British Isles; therefore it was inconceivable that the majority of children did not come into fairly regular contact with Muggles. Not to mention the fact that pure-blood numbers were steadily declining, and had been for years.

Hermione sighed. She'd become so annoyed during the lesson that she ended up setting the homework she'd been saving for their second class. Why on earth couldn't she have a class full of Arthur Weasleys? Her life would be much easier for it.

It was time for lunch in the Great Hall, but Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to explain the loss of thirty points from Gryffindor to Minerva just yet. She had the rest of the afternoon off, and a stroll to Hogsmeade sounded like the best course of action after her hectic morning.

****

As her second week of teaching wore on, Hermione began to feel more and more comfortable in the classroom. Her third-years had been better behaved the second time around, and the class discussion that had arisen from the homework she'd set had shown much more promise. However, Hermione was not one to become complacent, and she kept a watchful eye over the potential troublemakers. Her Advanced classes were what she enjoyed the most. The seventh-years had debated the future of Muggle and magical integration and co-operation, and Hermione was pleased to hear so many different perspectives and insights. So much so, she feared she might have become rather long-winded about it in her letter to her parents. Still, she knew they wouldn't mind.

Dinner, on Friday evening, was a rather noisy affair. The students were in high spirits at the thought of the weekend, and also, the first Quidditch match of the season...Ravenclaw versus Slytherin...to be played on Sunday. Hermione ignored the bustle and quite contentedly made inroads into her chicken pie and mashed potatoes. After a missed lunch, her appetite had been taunting her throughout the day, and it was only on wanting to retain her dignity in front of hundreds of people that she didn't start shovelling her food down, like Ron and Harry were sometimes wont to do.

After her main course, Hermione pulled a dish of fruit salad towards her. The chocolate profiteroles looked extremely inviting, stacked in front of her just so, but she was getting a little too comfortable with the Hogwarts desserts. She was aware of Snape taking his leave further up the High Table. He never did linger at the table after meals.

Hermione pushed her fork into a piece of pineapple. It was deliciously juicy and tart, and she fished around the apple and melon for another. She was chewing on it, when she noticed Snape come to a stop behind her.

'Professor, I would like to see you in my office after dinner.'

Hermione nodded dumbly in acknowledgment, and he carried on out of the Great Hall. Immediately, she swiped a hand across her face, expecting to find a hideous trail of juice on her chin, but thankfully, luck was on her side. What did he want to see her about? Perhaps it was about her N.E.W.T.s? Hermione had wondered if he'd forgotten about them, as he'd made no mention of them for a week. Eager to hear what Snape had to say, Hermione abandoned her fruit and began the walk to his office.

She reached the stone gargoyle...'Armadillo Bile'. It appeared that Snape had forsaken Dumbledore's tradition of basing his passwords on sweets and had opted for potion ingredients instead.

Hermione knocked on the oak door at the top of the revolving staircase and quickly straightened her robes. She waited for a few moments, but there was no answer. She tried the handle, and when it twisted easily, Hermione opened the door. She surmised Snape was the type of person who, if he hadn't wanted her to go inside and wait, would have damn well made sure she couldn't.

The office was indeed empty, and Hermione took the seat opposite the large desk. Looking in the direction of Dumbledore's portrait, she was disappointed to see it was also empty. Catching Phineas Black's eye, Hermione nodded in acknowledgment before scanning the rest of the room. The gallery above caught Hermione's interest. How she would love to go up and see what kind of titles were stored in the bookshelves. The Sorting Hat was sitting upon a high shelf and appeared to be snoring lightly. Her attention shifted to the desk in front of her, and Hermione was surprised to note that it was slightly untidy. There were a lot of parchments and books strewn haphazardly about. She was admiring an intricate sand timer when the door opened.

'My apologies, Professor Granger, for keeping you.'

'It's not a problem.' Hermione quirked her lips awkwardly as Snape moved around his desk and sank into the large chair. She looked on in amusement as he shuffled around the many scrolls on his desk before locating the one he obviously needed. He tapped the scroll open with his finger before looking up at Hermione.

'I have spoken with the Ministry and, as expected, they are more than happy to oblige in regard to your N.E.W.T.s.'

Hermione couldn't suppress the small flush of pleasure at his words. 'Thank you, Professor; I am extremely grateful to you. I didn't want you to go to any trouble.'

'I assure you, it was no trouble. I confess that I sympathise with your situation, somewhat, and indeed, you were one of the few students who actually seemed to care about their studies. It seemed the obvious course of action now you are back at Hogwarts,' stated Snape smoothly.

Hermione nodded silently, feeling perhaps that Snape was not one for effusive thanks. Still, his words warmed her and she thought back to the conversation with Dumbledore in the staff room last Sunday. She must have been wrong; besides, what ulterior motive could Snape possibly have in letting her complete her N.E.W.T.s? She was being ridiculous.

'All that remains, Professor, is to tell me what subjects you intend to sit, so that you may be listed officially on the register.' Snape picked up a large quill, dipped it into an inkpot, and looked at her expectantly.

Oh, he needed to know right now. 'Oh, well, I think, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology,' said Hermione thinking quickly. This was her only chance. Should she bite the bullet and take on Ancient Runes as well? No, she would have enough to do as it was.

Snape was scratching his quill along the parchment, his black hair obscuring his face slightly. Hermione watched him closely, and she noticed him pause for a moment. He raised his eyes towards her once more, and they were narrowed into a frown.

'Why have you since decided not to sit the Potions exam?' His tone was almost accusatory.

Hermione had thought this might come up. 'I thought it would be difficult to do the practical side of Potions. I have nowhere to brew and, even if I did, I'd need supervision...I'm sure Horace has better things to do with his time.' Hermione had thought long and hard about this and decided it was for the best.

Snape merely sighed, and an unspoken admonishment of 'Gryffindors' hung in the air.

Hermione clasped her hands self-consciously.

'Professor, you are making a mountain out of a molehill. Firstly, the Potions classroom is generally free on weekends, not to mention the numerous other empty dungeons that could be of use. Secondly, while the potions on the seventh-year syllabus are undoubtedly difficult, not all of them are potentially dangerous. Therefore, you would be perfectly able to brew them unaided...your Gryffindor nature, such that it is, precludes you from cheating. And lastly, I brew the majority of the potions for the Infirmary, so you may use those opportunities to tackle the more dangerous potions...I can supervise without infringing on my own spare time.'

Well, that certainly told me, thought Hermione dryly.

Snape's eyes glittered for a moment and he spoke once more, rather flippantly. 'Besides, if nowhere suitable is available for a makeshift Potions laboratory, I'm sure we can find you an abandoned bathroom somewhere.'

Oh Merlin's pants! Hermione stared at him in surprise.

'Relax, Professor, it's a joke. I'm not going to give you detention over something that happened years ago.'

Hermione smiled weakly, she was never sure, with his dry humour, if he was joking or not.

'Well, then...?' Snape indicated with his quill to the unfinished parchment.

'Yes, yes, of course,' said Hermione eagerly. It would have been a shame not to get a Potions N.E.W.T.

Snape was still writing when an owl, carrying a letter, flew in through the open window and landed on the perch beside the desk. Hermione could only stare at the owl in interest. Snape signed the parchment with a flourish and followed Hermione's gaze.

'Yes,' he began with a trace of resignation in his tone, 'that is Potter's owl.'

Hermione was intrigued. Clearly, Snape didn't seem surprised to see the owl so this wasn't a one-off. Did Harry have some kind of correspondence going with Snape? Why had Harry never mentioned it? She would have to ask him about it the next time she saw him. One thing was for sure...she could not ask the man in front of her, not if the glare was anything to go by. Hermione feigned disinterest.

'What happens now, Professor Snape?'

'What you do in terms of your other subjects is your own business, but with regard to Potions, I want you to make a list of the potions that will need supervision, and then I will inform you as to when you shall attempt them. The others you may brew in the Potions classroom on the weekends...just let Horace know of your plans. I'm sure he will be willing to verify your finished products as well.'

'Excellent! Thank you once again. Have a good evening, Professor,' replied Hermione as she got up to leave.

Snape nodded, but Hermione could see his attention was now turning towards the owl and the missive it held in its beak. She wondered as she left if he would appear in the staff room that evening, and she felt a small pang of disappointment later when he didn't.

****

Sunday morning dawned bright for the opening Quidditch match of the season. Despite not feeling any affiliation to either Slytherin or Ravenclaw House, Hermione would be going to watch in the stands nonetheless. She knew Minerva would be there, eagerly assessing the chances for Gryffindor this year.

Breakfast in the Great Hall that morning was singularly full in anticipation of the upcoming match. Truth be told, Hermione was more looking forward to after the match. Yesterday she had spoken to Horace Slughorn, who had been more than happy to lend her the use of his classroom. She'd then gone into Hogsmeade to replenish her Potions kit, and this afternoon she would brew something basic to get back into the swing of things...it had been a while, after all.

From her vantage point at the High Table, Hermione saw Snape enter the Great Hall through the main doors, closely followed by Minerva, and they were clearly discussing something. Hermione wondered if Snape's choice of a dark, forest-green robe was coincidental or a subtle show of support for Slytherin House, despite the need for impartiality in a Headmaster. She'd finished her list of potions for him and had a house-elf deliver it to his office. Now all she had to do was wait.

****

The Quidditch match was a long and hard-fought one, but in the end Ravenclaw managed to edge out Slytherin by a mere ten-point margin. Hermione quickly retreated from the Quidditch stands, and the Ravenclaw celebrations, to her quarters from where she retrieved her Potions kit and then walked down to the dungeons. The quiet was a relief after the noise outside. She soon found herself in her old Potions classroom and Hermione smiled...it hadn't changed.

She pulled her textbook towards her and opened it to the recipe for a Wit-Sharpening Potion. There were many different ingredients involved, along with several different modes of preparation. Hermione thought this was a good place to start to get used to handling ingredients once more. She chopped, diced, skinned, crushed, and plucked for over an hour, and she was relieved to find her skills hadn't completely disappeared in the two years she'd been away from a cauldron.

Her potion, once finished, was the correct colour and consistency, and she bottled it, thinking it would be possible to start her seventh-year potions next weekend without making an arse of herself. She tidied her bench and then left for the staff room to organise her notes and make a timetable to fit her studies around her teaching duties.

The night found Hermione unaccountably restless. She had been trying to drop off to sleep for ages with no success...it was her own fault for working so late. All evening, Hermione had been in discussion with Minerva about Transfiguration and what she should expect to encounter in terms of N.E.W.T. level work.

Back in her rooms, Hermione had become engrossed in her Transfiguration textbook and now her mind refused to switch itself off. She looked at her clock...it was half past midnight. What could she do? She thought about reading over her notes for her class tomorrow, but when she looked through her pile of files, she realised they weren't there.

Where the hell had she put them? She couldn't teach without them! Hermione closed her eyes and thought about the last place she remembered having them. Ah, yes, she'd put them on the floor by her chair in the staff room and, it appeared, had left them there. She didn't feel right knowing they weren't in safekeeping.

Hermione picked up her wand and shrugged on her dressing gown. It was only a short way to the staff room; she'd be back in five minutes.

The corridors were deadly quiet, and Hermione tried to ignore how eerie Hogwarts became in the night. The sconces and braziers were either extinguished, or dimly lit, and Hermione cast a Lumos spell to aid her way.

It was with relief that she quickly reached the staff corridor, but Hermione slowed when she saw the soft, orange glow emanating from the door that had been left ajar. Was someone still in there? The house-elves extinguished all fireplaces during the night if the room wasn't in use.

There was no sound coming from within, but Hermione was afraid to just barge in. Careful as to not make a sound, Hermione moved her head slowly into the narrow space afforded by the partially open door and peered in. The fire was at the opposite end of the room and, with no other source of light, her end was shrouded in darkness. A fact for which she was grateful when she realised it was Snape in the room.

He was sitting at an angle to the fireplace, giving Hermione a profile view of his features. He appeared to be deep in thought as he stared, almost wide-eyed, into the flames, one hand clutched around a tumbler of Firewhisky. Hermione's first thought was that she should sneak up on him for a change, but as she watched him, it occurred to her that she would regret it. He looked, for lack of a better word, unhappy.

Suddenly, he swigged down the contents of the glass and then, with all his might, threw it into the fireplace. Hermione jumped rather violently at the sound of the glass disintegrating, and she wrenched herself away from the door, afraid that he might have heard her. The last thing she saw was his hand coming up to press at his neck.

Hermione walked as quickly as she could, without outright running, back to her rooms. She was breathing deeply and was slightly out of breath when she threw herself onto her bed. Truthfully, she was rather concerned by what she had seen. Why was Snape sitting there, brooding in the dark? Clearly, he was upset about something, and it most certainly was not because Slytherin had lost a Quidditch match.

Hermione felt troubled by the incident and wasn't sure why. She turned off her lamp, hoping once more that sleep would come, but Snape's bleak expression lingered in her mind for a long time after.

****

A/N: Many thanks, as always, to astopperindeath for her editing this!