Chapter 5

Huge thanks to my new beta, Althea, and apologies that this took so long to post.

Chapter Five

"Granger, are you alright?" The gruff voice of Alastor Moody brought Hermione out of her daydream.

"Yes, sir, perfect. And you?" Hermione sat up straighter, scrambling to organize the scattered sheets of parchment on her desk. Halfway through January and she was still swimming in paperwork.

"You don't seem perfect to me," Moody stated matter-of-factly. "You haven't been paying attention at meetings, you come in late, you fall asleep, you spend half your time in the bloody bathroom, and you haven't been finishing your reports nearly as fast as usual. None of this would upset me much, but it isn't like you "

Sitting in the chair across from Hermione, the scarred old Auror regarded her with both eyes, although his false eye moved around sluggishly. As the glass eye moved to regard Hermione's midriff, Moody's real eye widened, and he leaned back in disbelief.

"Granger, do you have something to tell me?" He growled.

Hermione flushed. She hadn't thought to alert Moody before now, partially in embarrassment and partially in simple absent-mindedness. "Sir, I was getting around to telling you, I just couldn't find the right moment–"

"Couldn't find the right moment " Moody yelled. "Granger, you could have been called into the field at any moment What if there had been a bloody attack, eh, what then? Would you let me be held responsible for a miscarriage?"

Hermione paled. She honestly hadn't even considered that. "Sir, I wasn't thinking. But look, I'm fine Just keep me at the desk until the baby's born, and everything will be fine, I swear "

Moody shook his head sadly. "Granger, don't you know anything? There are no desk-Aurors. If you can't go into the field, then you can't work at all. What would you do, report details about cases you haven't even seen?"

"What are you getting at, sir?" Hermione asked slowly. She was afraid that she already knew the answer.

"Look, you aren't married, right?" Hermione shook her head. "A boyfriend to help?" Again, no. "Then there's nothing for it. Hermione Granger, you are being put on an extended leave of absence. You can't work when you're pregnant, and to have a single parent working a life-threatening job is plain reckless."

"Sir, you can't mean–"

"I'm sorry, Granger, but there's nothing for it." Moody looked genuinely regretful. "Until that child is a legal adult you can't work as an Auror."

"No "

"There's nothing for it," Moody repeated slowly. "I can't change policy, and even if I could, I wouldn't. This is for your own good, Granger, and much more importantly for the baby's. Clear out your office."

Hermione could feel her eyes filling with tears. Shock, outrage, and despair mingled as she fought to keep the tears from spilling.

Seeing this, Moody sighed sadly. "I really am terribly sorry, Granger. You're a good Auror: you do well in the field, you follow orders, and you process this damn Ministry paperwork faster than anyone else in this bloody department. But think; if you were to be hit in the field with almost anything, you would miscarry. And even once the child is born, there's always the extreme danger–even likelihood–that that child might become orphaned. I can't have that on my head."

Moody stormed out of the office, leaving a stunned and teary Hermione in his wake. She felt almost paralyzed, too upset to move. If her next move would be packing up her desk, then it was a move that she had no desire to make. They had planned everything She, Harry, and Ron, they had planned to become Aurors together so that when the time came to fight Voldemort once and for all, they would be ready. Now Hermione had been neatly cut out.

"I'm gonna be sick," Hermione groaned, jumping from her seat and racing down the hall to the women's lav. Heaving dryly, Hermione remembered that she had already thrown up her breakfast earlier.

When the bout of illness had passed, Hermione collapsed against the door to her stall. Burying her face in her hands, she wept silently. What next?

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"What will you do?" Harry stood, quite at odds, in Hermione's cramped apartment. "Do you have any money saved up?"

"On what they pay us?" Hermione snapped, sitting on her couch wrapped in a blanket. "Come on, Harry. Not all of us had rich parents leave us mountains of gold."

Harry gritted his teeth. That was low. But, ever a good friend, he let it pass for the time being, knowing how upset Hermione must be. "I'll share it with you. I was going to give you some every month. I'll just give you more, weekly."

"Harry, thank you, but don't be ridiculous. That would be unfair of me." Hermione rubbed her eyes, feeling exhausted. "I can find work, really. If nothing else, I'll move back home with my parents." She grimaced in distaste. "They are dentists after all; they do alright."

"Please, just tell me if there's anything I can do." Harry kneeled beside the couch, grasping Hermione's small hand in both his larger ones. "Anything at all."

"Go back in time and prevent all this," Hermione whispered.

When Harry's expression turned thoughtful, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Harry, try not to be so thick; I don't mean you really should."

Biting her lip in thought, Hermione's face brightened slightly. "No, I've had an idea. I think I know where I can go for help."

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"I know that I'm too young to be a teacher; some of these older students were here when I was. But I was hoping you would know of some kind of apprentice, or even just assistant, position that I could fill?"

Hermione was feeling pale and wrung out, not to mention exhausted. A week after Moody had fired her and joblessness was beginning to take its toll on Hermione.

She fidgeted under Minerva McGonagall's penetrating stare, feeling awkward sitting in the Headmistress's office. The many portraits of Headmasters and Headmistresses past observed her solemnly from the walls.

"Miss Granger, of course I can find you a position " McGonagall looked both shocked and pleased. "You know, I always thought you were wasted as an Auror; you have the mind of an academic. Why, if it weren't for your age, I would offer you a teaching position right now As it is, I will find you an apprenticeship with one of the other teachers."

McGonagall paused in thought. Continuing more like her old self, she regarded Hermione with a strict look. "But I must warn you, you will be working extremely hard."

"I feel that I'm bound to tell you, Headmistress," Hermione avoided McGonagall's gaze, "but I'm expecting."

Keen eyes flicked from Hermione's face to her slightly swollen stomach in some surprise, but McGonagall smiled congenially.

"Why, congratulations, Miss Granger That changes nothing of course. Pregnancy has rarely been known to addle the mind, after all." She chuckled tolerantly, reminding Hermione oddly of Dumbledore. "Besides, here you will have access to one of Britain's finest mediwitches; Madam Pomfrey will monitor your pregnancy, and I'm sure she can deliver the child. When are you due?"

"Late June," Hermione cleared her throat. "So... I can have a job?"

"Of course, dear child " McGonagall clapped her hands together. "How do you feel about Potions?"

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"Minerva, you can't be serious." Severus regarded the head in his fire as though it were foaming at the mouth. "You expect me to take Granger as an apprentice?"

"Severus, be nice," Minerva scolded gently. "She was top in her year for Potions, not to mention every other subject, and she would be an apt apprentice. Besides, haven't you been muttering about all the papers you have to grade? An assistant wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"An assistant I could bear," Severus murmured. "It's the idea of an apprentice. I can't help but feel as though I'm training my replacement."

"Now, Severus, you're still a young man." Minerva smiled at him, knowing she had won. "You have absolutely no need of a replacement. Unless, of course, you were to be moved back to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." Startled, Severus regarded her a few minutes before smiling slightly in triumph. "Now, I know you've given in, so just say you'll take her on."

"Why certainly, Minerva," Severus practically purred in pleasure. "Anything you say."

"Good, she'll be down soon. I've arranged for her to take the rooms across from yours; you will be expected to share your lab with her. And, Severus," McGonagall fixed him with a hard stare. "I expect you to treat her with patience and respect; if nothing else, you must give her professional courtesy."

"Of course, of course." Severus waved his hand distractedly as Minerva's head vanished from his fireplace.

To teach Defense again When Slughorn had quit after Dumbledore's death, Severus had been pressed into teaching Potions once more, but the taste of Defense he had been given had only made him want it even more. Unfortunately, as it was far easier to find new Defense teachers than fine Potions masters, Severus had been denied the opportunity.

"I will train that Gryffindor until she rivals even me," he whispered. "Let there never be any need of my Potions prowess again "

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Hermione regarded her rooms with some bemusement. She had not exactly hoped to be living in the dungeons; she had always rather enjoyed being able to see the grounds from Gryffindor Tower. The thought that she would have no windows, no fresh air, was distinctly claustrophobic.

Dropping her bag just inside the doorway, Hermione ventured forward.

The sitting room wasn't terrible. A fair sized room with stone walls and a large fireplace, it was decorated with a few old tapestries. A large, red couch faced the fireplace, and the walls were lined with dark wooden bookcases. Behind the couch was a separate area of the same room,

which held a plain, dark wood table and four matching chairs. Hermione guessed that she could have food delivered from the kitchens if she so chose.

Two doors branched off of the sitting room. One led into a fair-sized bathroom with a large, luxurious marble tub with a matching sink and toilet. There was another door in the bathroom as well, which lead to the same place as the second door in the sitting room: the only other room in the suite, Hermione's bedroom.

It was spacious enough to hold a large four-poster bed of the same dark wood as everything else with a red coverlet and matching red curtains, along with a large wooden wardrobe, a trunk at the foot of the bed, and more bookcases. There was even space next to the bed for Crookshanks' basket, even if he refused to use it.

What really pleased Hermione were the tiny windows up at the very top of the wall behind her bed. The windows were so high they touched the ceiling, but they did allow in some of the mid-afternoon sun. Hermione could see a thin layer of snow, so she knew that her windows opened up right on the grounds.

"Lovely," Hermione murmured to herself.

Going back to the living room, she used her new fireplace to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, for she had no fireplace in her cramped little flat. From there she Apparated home and began packing her things. Using charms to shrink her books, clothing, and knick-knacks, Hermione was able to fit all of her belongings into one carpet-bag.

It took a few minutes of coaxing to get Crookshanks into his travel-basket, which was already spelled for lightness, then Hermione Apparated back to the Leaky Cauldron and Flooed back to her new home. The whole excursion took about one hour.

Hermione was unpacking and resizing her books when she heard a curt knock on her door.

"It's open," she called.

"It may be unwise to leave doors unlocked in a school full of nosy students," Snape's deep voice came dryly from the now open doorway. "If I recall correctly, you yourself tended to do some unwarranted exploring, along with Potter and Weasley, of course."

"Good afternoon, Professor." Hermione inclined her head slightly, pausing in her unpacking. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Miss Granger. I trust you are well." Snape moved in to the sitting room, examining the books Hermione had already unpacked. "No serious problems?"

"No, Professor, thank you." Hermione resumed resizing books. Aside from being sacked, she couldn't help but think. "And you?"

"Well, well." Snape replaced a book he had been skimming through.

Bored with small talk, Snape turned to other subjects. "Alright, down to business. You will have access to my private laboratory to brew anything you may need. I mostly use it to make Poppy's healing potions, but occasionally I do a bit of research. You make conduct any experiments you wish as long as you notify me beforehand; I wouldn't want any conflicts between our different works."

Hermione nodded.

"If you would like, I can show you the lab now. It's just down the hall."

"Certainly, sir."

Hermione resized one last book before wiping her hands on her trousers and turning towards her former teacher. At his raised brow she blushed, glancing down at her stomach. It had grown since she had last seen him.

Snape almost smiled, but not quite.

"Well, come along, it's this way."

Turning on his heel, Snape moved away, surrounded by billowing black robes.

At least he hasn't lost his flair for the dramatic, Hermione thought wryly. She followed him out her door, but she didn't bother closing it.

"Those are my chambers." Snape gestured towards the closed door directly across from Hermione's. "If there is ever any need, you may find me there, but I doubt that will be necessary."

From his tone of voice, Hermione knew that the only thing he would deem 'necessary' would be a major natural disaster, an attack from Voldemort, or if Hermione had spontaneously burst into flames.

Walking a small distance down the dark corridor, Snape stopped in front of another closed door. Drawing his wand, he tapped the door-knob once, and the door swung open with a groan. "I have already instructed the lock to accept your wand; there are no silly incantations involved. You merely tap it once and it should open. Well, come in."

Hermione followed Snape into the now exposed room. As he stepped in, the cold torches flared into life, lighting the room for Hermione to see.

It was a fair sized space with three long tables, each capable of supporting four medium sized cauldrons. In the corner a space had been cleared for one giant cauldron, large enough to brew enough Pepper-up Potion to support the entire castle for at least two years. The other corner held a stone sink, which stuck directly out from the wall.

Currently the work-tables were cleared, and shelves along the walls held a multitude of cauldrons. In varying sizes and materials, none were quite so large as the huge one in the corner. Some were silver, most were iron, there were a few copper and ceramic ones and one shining gold cauldron.

Hermione slowly walked around the perimeter of the lab, running her hand over the many cauldrons. "Pretty," she whispered to herself as she rubbed the gold one. "Wonder what you would brew in that."

Snape didn't answer.

"I keep a large variety of ingredients in there." He gestured towards a closed door, presumably a storage closet. "I should have everything you need, but if you can't find something, come to me, and I can order it. Don't worry about cost. The school is well-endowed and receives discounts from almost everywhere."

Pausing, Snape turned to Hermione, regarding her studiously. "I should warn you to be careful in there. Don't inhale any powders, even ones that seem harmless. In your condition anything could be potentially harmful."

Hermione flushed.

"Well, that's the lab. As you can see, I'm not currently brewing anything, but that is a rarity. Don't be afraid to come in here." Snape paused again, awkwardly. "Well, I'll see you at dinner."

With that he swirled dramatically out of the lab.

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Dinner that evening was surreal. It was both comforting and extremely odd to be back under the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall. Stars glittered behind a thin veil of cloud, and the moon was a pale sliver in the false sky. Tiny snowflakes drifted lazily down, only to vanish above the students' heads.

None of this was strange; what was different for Hermione was the fact that rather than being seated at the Gryffindor table she had a seat next to Snape on the high table. Another strange thing was the sight of McGonagall in Dumbledore's seat. True, the elder witch had become Headmistress in Hermione's seventh year, but it was still strange not to see Dumbledore.

Upon walking into the mostly empty hall, Hermione had immediately been swept off her feet and crushed into a giant bear-hug from Hagrid. Never the same since Dumbledore's death, Hagrid sobbed into Hermione hair in happiness. "Oh, 'Ermione, it's great ter see ya. An' yer lookin' all grown-up. 'Ow's 'Arry an' Ron?"

"They're fine, Hagrid," Hermione gasped, hoping that Hagrid wasn't crushing her stomach. "Can you put me down?"

"Oh, o' course." Hagrid dropped her and leapt back clumsily. "Sorry, 'Mione. Got a little carried away."

"It's okay, Hagrid. I understand." Reaching up to link arms with Hagrid, Hermione guided him up to the head table, catching him up on the latest news.

Hagrid hadn't been able to make it to the wedding; he had grown increasingly reclusive in the last few years, rarely venturing off of Hogwarts' grounds. The rest of the teachers welcomed Hermione warmly, all remembering her fondly from her years as a student.

Hermione and the other teachers had already taken their seats before most of the students filed into the Great Hall; few noticed the new addition to their teaching staff. Only when the hall was almost full of loud, hungry students did McGonagall rise and call for silence.

"Good evening everyone," she began in her clear, clipped voice. "As some of you may have noticed, we have a new face among our staff. Hermione, dear, could you stand up?" She waved one imperious hand in Hermione's direction.

"You may remember her as the Head Girl three years ago, but now Professor Granger has become Professor Snape's teaching assistant and apprentice. You must all treat her with the same respect and deference that you would give to any other Hogwarts teacher."

She regarded them with a keen look for a moment, making sure they all understood. "Alright, back to your meal "

Hermione picked at her food in disappointment, too nauseous to enjoy Hogwarts' excellent cooking.

"Not hungry, Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick's squeaky little voice came from her elbow. He sat on several thick books and a cushion to reach the table.

"No, sir, my stomach's just a little upset." Hermione rubbed her little belly awkwardly. She didn't know if McGonagall had told the other teachers yet.

"Miss Granger is expecting," Snape subtly informed Flitwick, leaning across Hermione to grab the pitcher of wine in front of her.

"Congratulations, child " Flitwick almost fell off of his perch in happiness. "Congratulations indeed "

"If you are having trouble with morning sickness, I can brew you something to help," Snape added gruffly.

"I'm already taking some kind of multivitamin I received at St. Mungo's, and my research says it should be ending soon." Hermione sipped her water and bit into a slice of bread, the only things on the table she could bear to eat.

Snape shook his head, his greasy black hair moving with him. "This is something else; multivitamins don't do anything for the sickness."

"And even if the sickness will end soon, there's absolutely nothing wrong with treating it for now. If you wouldn't mind, I can show you how to make it after dinner. As my apprentice, I should be teaching you how to make these kinds of things."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione went back to shoving her food around her plate, sighing mournfully. "I'll be happy as long as I can eat again."

TBC........

A/N: Kind of an awkward ending, but that's the way it goes now and again.