It's Only the Beginning...

Chapter 3 ~ It's Only the Beginning...

Well, she had managed it. The weeks had passed, schoolwork was completed, and now she was sitting with Harry and Ron while the Hogwarts train carried them back to London. Snape, she knew, was elsewhere on the train; she was aware of what he would have thought of sharing space with her two friends and so had not bothered to make the offer. As it was, she thought she very well might decide to join him. Ron and Harry, full of plans for the holidays, were busy chattering to each other and effectively ignoring her. Hermione stared out the window, bored with the ideas that had already been covered several dozen times. If not more.

"So, what are you going to do, Mione?" Ron asked, startling her. "I mean, we know you have to go home and it's too bad, really, but is your family doing anything?"

"Um..." The girl had managed to avoid this conversation so far, but it seemed that her luck had run out. "Well, we're having a guest over for the hols."

Ron may have had the sensitivity of a brick, but Harry caught her hesitation. "All right, Mione," he grinned, "'fess up. Who is it? Lockhart? Umbridge? Krum?"

"Er..." She could feel herself turning red, one of the few reactions she couldn't control. In return, Harry needled her some more. "Well," she confessed, "actually, it's Professor Snape."

There was complete silence in the compartment.

Then an explosion. "Hermione, are you mad?!" Both young men stared at her incredulously.

"No, I am not mad." Though, at the moment--even though she had expected this reaction--she felt rather annoyed.

"But, Mione!" Ron agonized. "You're taking him--Snape!--home with you! Over Christmas! Snape, the Bat Bastard!"

Harry watched her carefully. "There's no way you're doing this voluntarily, unless..." He paused a moment, thinking. "I can't see why," he mumbled, "but think, Hermione. Did Snape, at any time, get close enough to slip something into your drink?"

"Or maybe your cauldron during class!" Ron chimed in. "Come on, Mione! Think!"

"Don't be absurd," she snapped. "Of all people, why would Professor Snape potion me into taking him home? If there is such a potion, which I sincerely doubt. And no--before you mention it--he did not put me under Imperius, either. Honestly, you two! As it so happens, I found out that he doesn't have anyplace to spend Christmas; you both know Hogwarts is closed this year."

"Yeah, we know." Harry looked uncomfortable.

Hermione pressed her advantage. "You know what it's like to have a miserable Christmas, Harry," she continued gently. "I'm just trying to help. No one should be forced to spend a bleak, miserable Christmas alone."

Harry watched her quietly for several moments. "All right, Mione," he sighed. "I give. Still," and at this he grinned, "once this holiday is over, I'm nominating you for sainthood."

She smiled back, wryly. "I'll probably deserve it," she replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once at the station, Hermione waved good-bye to her friends and waited at the barrier--now, due to Arthur Weasley, helpfully labeled "To Muggle London"--for Snape to appear. Her hands clutching Crookshanks's travel box, she watched him disembark carrying a small traveling case and, interestingly enough, a diminutive pet carrier. She was also surprised to note that he looked no more out of temper than usual, even after he spotted her.

"Miss Granger," he said simply.

"Professor Snape," she replied just as evenly. "My parents are to meet us at the main entrance and then drive us home in the car. Is this all right with you?"

"Certainly." Hermione wondered if he would be this terse for the entire holiday.

"Let's go then," she said and picked up her own duffel as she led the way through. Crookshanks, cooped up in his box, grumbled irritably, catching the girl's attention. "By the way," she asked as they threaded through the holiday crowds, "who's your friend?" She gestured at the carrier.

"Agrippina," he answered blandly. Hermione's eyebrows rose in apprehension. Not surprising, but certainly not reassuring that Snape owned an animal named after one of the most clever and ruthless empresses of Rome. "Don't worry," he continued, thin lips twisting into a wry smile. "She'll stay out of the way of that monster of yours. She will not bite, either. Unless it's called for."

"Unlike you?" Hermione quipped. "Who bites whether it's called for or not?"

"Touché," acknowledged Snape with a nod. Hermione grinned. A moment later, she spotted her parents and began waving frantically, regardless of the sardonic-faced professor beside her.

"Mynie!" Snape watched a tall woman--obviously Hermione's mother from the masses of hair that cascaded from her ponytail--run forward to embrace the girl. "Welcome home, darling." He shifted his gaze from the mother and daughter to examine the father, who was following at his own pace. Dr. Granger had a pleasant, if unremarkable, face with carefully combed dark hair and his daughter's eyes. Tall, he matched Snape inch for inch--a fact which Severus appreciated as the man smiled and reached out a hand to him.

"Robert Granger," he introduced himself. "A pleasure to meet you, sir. Our daughter has told us much about you. We look forward to your stay."

Severus wondered briefly what exactly the girl had told her parents about him. Nothing good, presumably. He made sure none of his students--save the Slytherins--had anything good to say of him. "Severus Snape. The pleasure is mine," he replied smoothly. Contrary to popular belief, he had had the civilities drilled into him as a child. And he had determined to at least be civil to the Grangers for keeping him away from that mausoleum he had inherited. "I am very grateful for your hospitality and apologize for the inconvenience."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Granger said briskly. She turned toward them, still keeping an arm around her daughter. "There's certainly no trouble at all in having a friend for the holidays. A blessing, rather. Oh, yes, and I'm Amelia Granger. Mother of the accused, although I imagine that's painfully obvious." She laughed, a light, silvery dance of sound that was odd coming from such a practical-looking woman. Snape allowed himself a small smile in return, though privately astonished at her words. A friend? A blessing? Me?

"Mother!" Hermione herself sounded like any other exasperated teenager.

"Well, then." Robert gave his wife and daughter an amused look. "I imagine we should be underway, then. Traffic will be a mess if we wait much longer."

"Sure thing, Dad," Hermione agreed.

"If you'll follow us, Professor," Robert continued, "we'll find our car and start off for home. I imagine both of you are tired and would be glad to get settled in."

"Of course." Severus nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride was thankfully uneventful. Upon accepting Miss Granger's invitation, Severus had requested a few Muggle Studies references from Madam Pince to look up things he was likely to be presented with, of which automobiles had been one. Of course, with Weasley's flying menace still roaming the Hogwarts grounds, he was unlikely to be completely ignorant of the machines. Still, Agrippina was making her annoyance generally known, her maniacal hissing providing a harmony for That Cat's irritated yowling. Between the two animals, there was more than enough noise, which rather precluded further conversation, though he noticed that Miss Granger kept glancing at him, presumably waiting for his next sarcastic remark.

The journey ended in front of a neatly maintained Victorian, somewhat more... romantic than he had expected, knowing the Granger girl as he did. And there was something else that he certainly had not been expecting. As they emerged from the car, a pale blur--seen just at the corner of his eye--disappeared from a downstairs window. Snape turned just in time to see the front door hurled open and a small form hurled forward with equal force. A tiny child, her hair in braids flying behind her, leapt at Miss Granger.

"Mynie!" she cried, her voice a childish echo of her mother's. "You're home! Welcome home, sissy!"

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A few notes: It is never said how people get home for the holidays, so I'm assuming the train. Also, using the Eton school calendar as a reference, school is out from about mid-December to mid-January. We'll have a lot of time to play with. *evil chuckle* Oh, and "touché" is a fencing term, from the French, meaning "I am hit" (roughly anyway). It is properly used to acknowledge a touch, or hit, on one's self, never to say that you have hit your opponent.