Chapter 3 - How Do You Feel?

Chapter 3 - How Do You Feel?

Albus Dumbledore peered over his half moon spectacles, observing the trio in front of him.

A slightly shocked Deputy Headmistress, a subdued Head Girl and a disgruntled Potions master, with his arms firmly folded across his chest, sat uncomfortably on hard back chairs that had been rapidly conjured when the group barged in. McGonagall had sent her Patronus ahead of them, briefly explaining to Dumbledore what she had accidentally walked in on.

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his desk, and put his fingertips together. "Kindly explain yourselves," he sighed.

"Headmaster, she deliberately attacked me..."

"I just asked him a perfectly nice..."

"A clear case of expulsion..."

Snape and Hermione exploded, both trying their hardest to drown each other out.

McGonagall's head jerked up. "Surely, such drastic measures won't be necessary?" she said, eyeing the Headmaster questioningly.

Dumbledore held up a hand and the room fell silent. "Nobody is being expelled. Not today."

Snape let out a snort of disgust. "She should at the very least be stripped of her Head Girl badge!" he spat.

Dumbledore ignored the younger man's outburst and turned to Hermione.

"I take it Professor Snape declined your dinner invitation, Miss Granger?"

"Yes. And rather rudely," she said, shooting daggers at the Potions master.

"So rudely that you found yourself at a loss for any other solution than to hold him at wandpoint?" Dumbledore said through a thin-lipped smile.

Hermione squirmed slightly in her chair, cursing inwardly as she failed to hold back the red spots appearing on her cheeks under Dumbledore's scrutinizing gaze. She knew, rationally, that she had crossed the line. Her pride, however, couldn't care less so she let the question remain unanswered.

Dumbledore seemed to notice this flicker of emotions on her face, interpreting her silence as quiet regret.

"First of all, Miss Granger, I must stress the severity in drawing your wand at a teacher. It is, as you very well know, unacceptable to resort to violence, regardless of the circumstance, within the walls of this castle...unless you are finding yourself in a life-threatening situation. Which I very much doubt this was. And as Head Girl, exhibiting this kind of behavior is even more distressing since you were carefully chosen for this assignation because of your ability to conduct yourself properly at all times."

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her robe, fighting back the urge to tell him to bloody well take her Head Girl badge and shove it.

Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic look, oblivious to her inner battle.

"However. Am I right to assume that your transition from the trenches of war back to the school bench has been ... difficult, for lack of a better word?"

McGonagall huffed at this. "Everyone we know was in the war, Albus. That doesn't give us the right to behave like buffoons," she said curtly.

"My sentiments exactly," Snape chimed in.

"Eloquently put as always, Minerva." Dumbledore arched a brow at the Deputy Headmistress. "You seem to have forgotten, however, that some of us have had the unfortunate disposition of being exposed to previous wars. I myself have been involved in more battles than I care to remember and, as atrocious as it may sound, have gained valuable experience to fall back on due to this fact. As veterans we have found something to guide us through the inevitable darkness that only war can bring, both during and after. Others ..."

He looked at Hermione.

"Might not have come to terms with the aftermath of this latest tragic piece of history just yet."

Dumbledore reached out for the bowl of lemon drops situated on his desk, carefully choosing one, and popped it into his mouth.

"And I do believe Minerva's comment was directed at you as well, Severus," he added casually.

Snape rolled his eyes, clearly biting back a retort.

"Miss Granger? Am I right in my assumption?" Dumbledore inquired once again, focusing on Hermione.

Dumbledore really was more perceptive, albeit selectively, than he let on a lot of times, Hermione mused. She sighed and crossed her legs. She felt reluctant in sharing her most intimate feelings, feelings she had been harboring ever since she came back for her final year.

"I suppose it has been kind of hard. This used to be my forte, school that is, and I still enjoy the academic challenge." She bit her lip. "But I've found that a lot of things that I used to care about before have lost some of their meaning. Things are different, I feel different. Almost like I don't belong here anymore. Like I've outgrown this part of my life." She smiled sadly.

"And so far you have shown an outstanding amount of maturity," Snape drawled.

"Severus. Please be quiet." Dumbledore fixed his piercingly blue eyes on the Potions master. He then turned to Hermione and watched her intently for a while, as if weighing his words before he spoke.

"It is not uncommon for seventh years to feel the way you do, Miss Granger, even under normal circumstances. And maybe this year's graduates are even more prone to share similar feelings to yours. But war heroine or not ..." He paused. "A simple rejection does not automatically give you permission to start hexing left and right."

"In all fairness, Headmaster, there definitely wasn't any hexing left and right going on, and Professor Snape did threaten to bury me deep under ground. Or somewhere bereft of air," Hermione said indignantly, unable to keep quiet.

"And did you believe him, Miss Granger?"

"Well, no, but that is hardly the..."

"Then we will lay this matter to rest. I will regard this little mishap as an unfortunate lapse of judgment on your part, and you will serve detention with Professor Palmer on Saturday."

Hermione nodded her consent. She knew she had been let off easy. Gregory Palmer, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was one of the nicest men she had ever met. Detention with him would be nothing short of a vacation.

"If that is all, Headmaster?" Snape rose from his chair abruptly, distinctly dissatisfied with the way the meeting had turned out.

"Actually, no. Minerva, Miss Granger. You may leave. I wish to speak to Severus alone, please."

As soon as the women had left, Dumbledore turned to Snape, a stern look on his face.

"Why am I still here, Albus?" Snape asked as he slumped back into one of the chairs.

"You drew your wand at a student, Severus," Dumbledore said exasperatedly. "I have never known you to lose control like this. What in Merlin's name happened?"

"I don't know, I..." He stopped, thinking back on the debacle in the dungeons. "Well, I suppose it was a purely reflexive motion."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "Surely, you must understand that I find that somewhat preposterous. You have been successfully withstanding your reflexes for over twenty years."

Snape mumbled something under his breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She ... caught me by surprise."

"I am not sure I follow."

"She drew her wand faster than me," Snape admitted reluctantly and sighed. "I wish I could explain it better, but I cannot. She was quicker and I acted on impulse. But you should have seen her eyes, she appeared completely fearless and seconds away from hexing me into oblivion. It was ... unnerving."

"She must have been extremely offended by your ... lack of tact." Dumbledore frowned as he leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. "I suppose, well, apart from Harry, Mr. Weasley, yourself and I, she was exposed to Voldemort more times than anyone else. And that kind of exposure is bound to leave some sort of permanent tenseness in a person."

Willing himself back to the present and his office, the Headmaster cleared his throat and turned his attention to Snape.

"Now. You will find a way to apologize to Miss Granger. The latest turn of events aside, she is certainly making an effort to end her school days on a high note. And if I know her like I think I do, she probably feels very badly about the whole situation this very instant."

A non-conceding snort escaped the Potions master's lips as he made to retort.

"Need I remind you that others have found themselves out of a job for less than raising a wand at their students, Severus?" Dumbledore cut off.

"Are you threatening to fire me if I refuse, Albus?"

"Ah, no. Merely describing one scenario amongst others." Dumbledore looked at Snape innocently.

Snape only glared in response, and Dumbledore, satisfied with his employee's quiet consent, reached out for another lemon drop and changed the subject.

"Are you familiar with Swedish cuisine, Severus?" Dumbledore broke out in a wide grin. "No? I do believe Minerva had the pölsa when she was out with Miss Granger. Very much like haggis from what I understand. I had three types of pickled herring. Absolutely marvelous meal."

How Do You Feel? – the Cleftones.