Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My dear Hermione,

I can’t imagine what Mr Weasley was thinking to do this to you—

Hermione couldn’t force herself to read that part of the letter, she decided – she really didn’t want to think about Ron at all just now – so she skipped to the last couple of paragraphs even as she felt some of the tension drain from her body at the warmth of Professor McGonagall’s welcome.

Don’t forget to pack some warm clothing – you remember how draughty the castle gets in the evenings at this time of year, don’t you? The days are still warm, though, so you probably ought to bring a few summer things, too.

Hermione’s lips quirked up at the maternal-sounding instructions – Professor McGonagall seemed to want to look after her the way she had when she was twelve, but with more obvious warmth now that she wasn’t trying to maintain discipline, too.

Look at me, going on about what you should bring when you’re probably on tenterhooks! Don’t worry, Hermione, you’ll come through this just fine in the end, and anything we can do to help you is yours for the asking. See you soon, dear girl!

Minerva McGonagall

Hermione thought wryly that Professor McGonagall must be really worried about her if she was resorting to expressing such warm sentiments so forthrightly. Squaring her shoulders, she decided to take the suggestion that she should try to arrive in time for dinner. Summoning some parchment and a Dicta-quill and hurrying into the bedroom to pack, she began a list of what needed to be done before she could leave.

An hour later, Hermione had arranged for Ginny to look after Crookshanks for the duration and had cast self-watering charms on all her houseplants. She had set the necessary spells to ensure that the blinds opened in the mornings to let the light in and to keep the temperature optimised – after all, she had some rare magical plants that she didn’t want to lose for lack of a few simple spells.

The packing had gone smoothly – everything fit into the beaded bag she had never got rid of after the year on the run with Harry and R—

She deliberately cut off the thought. She wasn’t going to think of him – not now, not ever. Not if she could help it, anyway.

And besides, she had research to do. There just wasn’t time to think about the past.

Glancing once more around the flat, she decided she could always pop back in if she had missed anything important.

Arriving at the Hogwarts gate with almost half an hour to spare, she watched her Patronus gambol off across the lawn and waited for someone to come and admit her. She tried to quell her anxiety, but she had enough memories of danger here that she still felt a bit more exposed than was strictly comfortable.

She was rather expecting Hagrid to appear from the direction of his hut, so she was surprised when Professor McGonagall herself called a greeting as she hurried along the path from the castle. “Hermione, my dear! I’m so pleased you’re here, though I wasn’t sure you’d arrive so quickly! Come in, come in!” The gate swung open with a flick of the Headmistress’s wand, and Hermione slipped through. She was surprised to find herself enveloped in a tight hug.

Since when did Professor McGonagall hug her?

“You poor, poor dear – you must be so upset by all that’s happened!” She pulled back to look Hermione directly in the eye. “Don’t worry, dear, Mr Weasley was never worthy of you, anyway – we’re all agreed on that.” She gave Hermione another squeeze, then left her arm around the younger witch’s shoulders as she began shepherding her toward the castle.

Hermione was nonplussed by this effusive expression of sympathy – and not entirely pleased, as she was starting to feel weepy again – but she didn’t know how to make the Headmistress stop. Still, she tried. “I’m fine, really, Headmistress—”

But she didn’t get to finish the thought. “None of that ‘Headmistress’ nonsense now, dear. You’re an adult now, not a student, and you’ll call me Minerva, just as all my colleagues do.”

“But—” Hermione started to protest she wasn’t a colleague, but a guest. Again, the Headmistress would have none of it.

“Don’t argue, Hermione. We were all just horrified at the insulting way Mr Weasley treated you. I can’t believe he just ran off and married someone else mere days before your wedding! How could he do that to you? To think one of my Gryffindors could be so lacking in honour that he’d—”

On the verge of tears, Hermione broke in. “I’m fine, really. It’s better he did it before the wedding, don’t you think? And anyway, this way I have a whole month to work on my new research project.”

Hermione managed to keep the topic innocuous for the rest of their walk to the guest quarters, and she breathed a sigh of relief when Minerva left her to freshen up before dinner. Fortunately, the guest quarters were conveniently situated near the library, so Hermione had no trouble finding her way back to the Great Hall.

Unfortunately, as she made her way to dinner, she was forcibly reminded that school was in session, and that Hogwarts wasn’t so far cut off from the ‘real world’ as to make the students unaware of her aborted wedding. She caught snippets of conversation that, by the time she actually reached her destination, had her barely restraining the urge to hex them.

“Did you hear—?”

“She’s the one who—”

“—not like anyone’s surprised—”

“—article in the Prophet—”

They all seemed to be watching her, she thought, perhaps trying to see if she was distraught or hoping to see some sign of weakness. She vowed not to give them the satisfaction.

Only the habits of six years spent not doing magic in the corridors protected the students from her increasing ire.

By the time she arrived at the Great Hall, she needed several calming breaths before she was able to smile neutrally and approach the High Table. Minerva gestured toward a chair to her right; unfortunately, she immediately picked up her attempts at consolation – which was, of course, the last thing Hermione wanted. “Hermione, dear, how are you doing?”

Even more unfortunately, several other staff members picked up the refrain.

“Oh, Hermione, it’s just awful! And you so calm and cool about it all!”

“How are you coping, Hermione?”

“What could he have been thinking?”

“You know we’re all here for you, don’t you?”

“If there’s anything I can do …”

The cacophony of concerned voices was beginning to rattle Hermione, so it was with some relief that she heard a familiar voice say in a biting tone, “All this fawning is giving me indigestion. Had I known we were all expected to play agony aunts, I’d have skipped dinner. Shall I plan to skip breakfast, as well, or do you think we’ll have moved on by then?”

It seemed the staff held its collective breath as they watched Hermione – perhaps they thought she’d be offended, but instead, she was grateful. Her laugh came naturally, therefore. “Professor Snape, it’s good to see you, too.” She thought she caught a tiny twitch of his lips, but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure. Shifting her gaze to sweep everyone else at the table, she continued, “And while I appreciate all the concern and sympathy, I’m fine.” Seeing some doubt on a few faces, she added, “Really. I’m fine. I’d love to hear how all of you are doing, though.”

A/N: Thanks, as always, to my wonderful Team of Geniuses and to all who read and review! Love you all!