Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione was feeling much better by the time she returned to Hogwarts. Harry and Luna's happiness was contagious, it seemed, and despite her sadness that she would be leaving the school she loved, she really felt it was time to accept that Professor Snape would never treat her with anything but contempt. Leaving was her only viable option. Maybe he would find some measure of happiness with her gone.

If she were honest, it still bothered her, just a little, that he hated her so much. She supposed part of her would always be the eleven-year-old girl he had first met, who was so desperate for approval and belonging in her new world that she obsessively memorised everything available to her and spouted her newfound knowledge to anyone who would listen. He had been the one teacher she could never please, and that would probably always grate.

But as she had said to Harry, she was tired of trying to win something that would never be forthcoming. It would be far better to cut her losses and find a place where people would appreciate her.

As she let herself into the Entrance Hall, she smiled slightly. It really was better to have the decision made at last.

"Professor Granger!"

Hermione jumped and almost groaned upon recognising the familiar voice. As she made him wait for her reply, however, she remembered that there was nothing much he could do to her now that she had tendered her resignation.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"I do not recall giving you permission to leave the grounds this evening."

As usual, he sounded annoyed, but she did her best to ignore it and speak respectfully. "Perhaps that's because I didn't ask for permission. Considering I've already resigned, I felt it unnecessary."

"It was not unnecessary, I assure you. According to the terms of your contract, you are not permitted to leave the grounds during the week without my permission."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and for the first time ever, she didn't even bother to try to hide it from him. "Well, go ahead and fire me if you feel it's that important, because I have nothing to lose here."

"Oh? You expect a positive reference if you shirk your duties?" he sneered sarcastically.

"Not particularly, but that's irrelevant as I'm quite certain I wouldn't get a positive reference from you in any event. Anyway, I have enough contacts of my own and, frankly, everyone who knows both of us will quite understand that I could be the best teacher ever to grace the halls of Hogwarts and you would still badmouth me to anyone who would listen."

"When have I ever badmouthed you? I treat you exactly the same way I treat everyone else."

As usual, his answer ignored reality in favour of his preferred viewpoint, Hermione thought, but at least she didn't feel she had to rein in the urge to argue any longer. "Oh? You question Filius's integrity in front of students? You call Minerva insulting names every chance you get?" He didn't respond, which Hermione took as acknowledgement of her point. She took a breath and continued. "Look, can we just stop this? I'm leaving, which is exactly what you've wanted from the moment I arrived back here three years ago. Can't you just enjoy your victory and leave me be for the next three months? I'll stay out of your way, and I'll do my job to the best of my ability, and I'll make certain I'm packed and ready to leave with the Hogwarts Express. After that, we need never see one another again, and I'm sure we'll both be far happier for it."

"What makes you so certain I'll be happier?"

Well, he was consistently contrary – she'd give him that, though she couldn't contain her snort. "With all due respect, Headmaster, you've been nothing if not clear that you wish me as far away from you as I can possibly be. For all I know, you might even wish me dead. Given that all your efforts are about to come to fruition, I imagine you'll be much happier. And if you didn't think so, too, why put all that effort into driving me away?"

"I have never wished a student dead in my life. Not even Potter," he spat, clearly offended.

"First, I'm not your bloody student anymore, and second, even if that goodwill extends to former students, how am I to know? You've hated me since I was eleven years old, and I've never really understood why. I know, I know," she held up a hand when he looked like he was about to speak, "I was in Gryffindor and you were a spy, but you didn't treat everyone in Gryffindor with such active nastiness – some of them you just ignored. And my friendship with Harry doesn't explain it either. I had no friends at all until two months into first term, and you obviously despised me from my very first day in your class." She shook her head. "If it was something I did that offended you, I apologise, but I can't figure out what it was. And if it was just because of who I am – well, I won't apologise for that. I know I'm not perfect, and not everyone likes me, but that's fine. I try to be a good person, and I try to treat everyone with respect. Nearly everyone else does me the same courtesy, even if I'm not their favourite person; no one else goes to the lengths you do to make me feel unwelcome and unwanted, like the dirt under their shoe. Not even Draco Malfoy, who has disliked me at least as long as you have." He didn't respond, and at last she sighed. "There's no point. You don't want to hear all this, and I'm tired of trying to get you to listen to it. I'll try to stay out of your way for the next three months. You do as you will. You always do, anyway."

She turned toward the stairway that led to her quarters. His voice stopped her in her tracks.

"I have not dismissed you, Professor Granger."

She turned to look at him. "I don't need your permission anymore, Professor Snape. I'm not your student, and I'm as good as gone from your employ, as well. Do as you will."

"You will do me the courtesy of allowing me to respond to your accusations." He sounded as though he had swallowed nails.

"Why would I do that? You've never done me any courtesy at all. I don't need to hear your justifications for your treatment of me over the years I've known you. I'm sure you have your reasons, and I'm sure they seem perfectly rational to you, but really, from my perspective, there is absolutely nothing you can say that will excuse the abuse you've heaped on my head. And now I've given notice, I don't have to listen to it anymore. Good night."

As she began climbing the stairs, feeling the delicious liberation of saying exactly what she thought without any attempt at censorship, his voice floated after her. "Ah, but who says I've accepted your resignation?"

Watching the girl leave in a huff before smirking and stalking away himself, Severus was forced to admit that had not gone quite as well as he might have hoped. He continued to ponder the problem as he glided down a silent corridor several minutes later. Why did the girl irritate him so? As if he would ever wish harm on a student, even a former student. She had to know better than that, didn't she?

He really needed to formulate a plan, he decided. She was, as he had told Lucius, nothing if not stubborn, and she had apparently decided he had nothing to say that she wanted to hear. Therefore, he would have to find a way around the walls she had erected around herself where he was concerned. Perhaps he could blackmail her, the way she had blackmailed him. No matter what Lucius said, he was quite certain she had fully intended to blackmail her way into her job ...

Three Years Earlier

He had recognised her handwriting on the parchment immediately – it had brought up unpleasant memories of seemingly hundreds of essays, always two or three or even four times the assigned length. He was tempted to throw it in the fire without reading it, but the girl was damnably persistent. How long had it taken him to make her stop visiting him in St. Mungo's five years ago? Several months, at least, if he remembered correctly – which he was quite sure he did.

Sighing, he forced himself to read:

Dear Headmaster Snape,

Hermione Granger

The nerve of the girl, bringing up the past after all this time! What could she be about? Did she think he wanted to remember his years of spying? His months of recovering? It had been five years since the final battle and nearly as long since he had finally convinced her to leave him alone and stop visiting him in hospital.

He had resumed his position as Headmaster four years ago; the humiliation was finally behind him, and now she wanted to bring it all back? He read the letter again, and then a third time. Could she be ... blackmailing him? Asking to be hired, without providing references or a CV? Why wouldn't he require such things if he was to consider hiring her?

Unless ... could she be holding their history over his head and expecting him to hire her regardless?

The gall of it! The utter temerity! He read the letter again, trying to decide what to do. His first impulse was to deliver a setdown so sharp she would never dare darken his door again, but what if she made good on her implied threat and told all and sundry about his embarrassing behaviour while in hospital?

He was tired of living with public humiliation. It had been bad enough that his unrequited attachment to Lily had been publicly dissected and bandied about throughout his trial. It had dominated the headlines for almost two months before he earned his acquittal. Then, just as public interest had seemed to be turning elsewhere, he had been awarded an Order of Merlin, and the whole mess had been brought up all over again.

He had checked himself out of St. Mungo's against medical advice a month before his trial was due to start, returning to Spinner's End to finish his recuperation. The Healers had started talking about experimental treatments to relieve the lingering damage Nagini had inflicted, and he had bolted. He had done enough for the Wizarding World – he refused to subject himself to experimental procedures that for all he knew might kill him.

He wouldn't have minded dying, if only it had happened in the middle of the battle. Then he wouldn't have had to know that Potter had been sharing his private memories with the entire world, hoping, according to Severus's barrister, to gain him some public sympathy prior to his trial. Severus didn't think the boy's motives were so pure, however – why would he suddenly try to help a man he had always hated and mistrusted? No, he was certain Potter just wanted to embarrass and humiliate him further.

Granger had certainly done her part, too, hadn't she? Hanging about his hospital room during the months he was comatose, hearing every delirious thought that came out of his mouth when they finally ended the coma in order to administer the anti-venin. Even his Pensieve memories weren't as embarrassing as all that had transpired while she had sat at his bedside and mocked him.

And now it seemed she was using her knowledge to blackmail him into hiring her. Well, he would see about that.

He composed a letter inviting Miss Granger to Hogwarts for an interview. He did, however, insist she must bring the CV and references she had offered.