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One Plus One Equals Three	By : HerverusGrape Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 4825 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Chapter 4:

Hermione and Crookshanks walked on at a leisurely pace towards the castle.
There was just the hint of gentle breeze in the air, and she threw
her head back, enjoying the feel of it rustling through her thick hair. She
smiled as she realized she was humming, her arms swinging happily in rhythm
as she approached the main door. The thought struck her again that
she felt as though she were returning home. But as she neared the steps
she suddenly halted and narrowed her eyes, squinting up at the massive walls
of the edifice.

It had always been a warm and welcoming sight for her. But Snape
had spoken of being in 'servitude'. Apparently, he had felt more like
a slave or perhaps a prisoner within its walls.

Well, she sniffed, shaking her head and hastily climbing the stairs, what
did you expect when you spent most of your time skulking around the dungeons?
As far as she understood the situation, there was a very good chance
that, had Dumbledore not voiced his support of Snape during the first set
of Death Eater trials, the greasy-haired wizard would have ended up in Azkaban
years ago. But trust Snape to look on the dark side of everything,
and make it sound as if Dumbledore was punishing him rather than sheltering
him.

By this time she was through the doors and standingthe the main hallway.
She looked around for a moment, hoping to see one of the other teachers,
but the hall remained eerily empty and silent. Crookshanks' purr resounded
loudly in the room as he began once more to circle around her ankles.

"Oh, dear," she said, smiling down at him. "I know you're hungry,
but I'd really like to get to our rooms first." For a brief moment,
she considered heading over to the Headmistress' office. But she decided
against it, arguing that she really should dispose of her packages, get
Crookshanks settled in the new quarters and take a few minutes to freshen
up herself before meeting with McGonagall. Instead, she directed her
steps toward the Great Hall in the hopes that someone (right about now she
might even settle for a house elf) would be rattling around and willing to
help her find her way.

The creak of the door pushing inward sounded surprisingly noisy as it echoed
through the large chamber. The room looked even larger than normal
since the tables for the four Houses were pushed to the side, leaving the
middle of the room distressingly vacant. The long table that sat upon
the dais appeared slightdd add as we&nbs There were only a half dozen
chairs placed around it, and Hermione noticed immediately that Dumbledore's
large, throne-like chair was not at the table. It was set back behind
the others, near the large stain glassed window, as if no one could as yet
bear to see it claimed by his successor.

The four hour-glasses set upon the wall gleamed brightly. Their jewels,
all returned to the upper bulbs in anticipation of the new school year,
sparkled merrily in the sunlight. As she stared up again, she once
more felt the enormity of taking on the responsibility of heading Gryffindor
House. She had a rather sneaking suspicion, as a matter of fact, that
at the end of the year most of the rubies might still be where they were
at the moment.

"Ten points to Gryffindor for having the prettiest Head of House,"
came a voice behind her.

As the jewels began to trickle into the lower bulb, she pivoted on her
heel to see who had spoken. A broadly smiling Charlie Weasley was
placing his wand in the pocket of his jeans and walking towards her with
his arms held out in front of him. Running to him, she clasped her
arms around him and hugged him happily. During the past few years,
she had visited the Weasley family with great regularity and Charlie's role
as a member of the Order of the Phoenix had ensured that his own trips to
England were much more frequent than they had been. She felt his arms
wrap around her as well and after a few moments it seemed, to her surprise,
that he seemed somewhat loathe to release her. She allowed a few more
seconds to pass and then she grinned up at him and gently placed her hands
upon his shoulders, pushing back slightly so that she could get a better
look at his face.

"What's with the beard?" she asked, reaching up to stroke reddish-gold
hair upon his cheek and chin. She had expected it to be rather bristly
and found herself quietly pleased that instead, it was amazingly soft.

"Well," he admitted with a chuckle, drawing away from her and ruefully
pulling at the growth himself, "It's something I always wanted to do. But
after having my eyebrows singed off a couple of times, I decided facial
hair was not a good idea when you're working with dragons." Shrugging
his shoulders, he laughed and continued: "But, I thought it might
help me look suitably distinguished for a Hogwarts Professor."

"I see," she replied, chuckling herself. "And what's this I hear
about including dragons in 'Care of Magical Creatures' classes?"

"Oh," he cringed, shaking his head. "No, no, no! What I told
Hagrid was that I might be willing to arrange a field trip to one
of the colonies-but only for a few select seventh years."

"He won't give up on the idea, you know," she said.

"Probably not," he admitted cheerfully.

"Anyway," she said, turning back to the hourglasses and retrieving her
wand. With a wave, the rubies returned to their proper place. "You
can't award or deduct points until after the start-of-term Feast," she reprimanded.
"Besides," she added, "You didn't have a valid reason. Gryffindor
prides itself on bravery, phy physical attractiveness."

"A speech delivered with suitable schoolmarm sternness," he teased. "All
right," he said, stroking his beard again. "Let's see. You are exceedingly
brave, and everyone knows you're just as smart as anyone whose ever come
out of Ravenclaw, including Flitwick. And as hard-working as any Hufflepuff.
I think, based upon the fact that you exemplify the best of three our
of the four houses, you still deserve special recognition."

"Oh," she said, her lips set into a petulant frown. "Are you telling
me I'm not sneaky enough?"

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back and placing his hands upon his
hips. "Well, you've managed quite a few ingeniously clever tricks
in your time," he allowed. "Much more than I ever thought you would
from the way that Ron and Percy first described you," he admitted, with
a wink. "But, yeah, I do think ol' Snape has the advantage on you
there."

"Ol' Snape," she teased, running her eyes up and down his frame. "He's
not that much older than you are! Anyway," she said, suddenly anxious
to change the subject. "The last I heard it sounded like your mother
and Percy were finally patching things up?" she asked.

"Oh, much more than that," he said, waving his wand in the direction of
group of chairs gathered near the door. Two of the wooden chairs came
flying through the air and landed beside them. Taking a seat, he chuckled
once more. "He's become the favorite son again."

"Oh, what now?" she asked, seating herself as well. "Managed a new
promotion in the Ministry?"

"Much better than that," he answered. Leaning forward, he grinned
again, and she suddenly noticed how white and even his teeth were, especially
contrasted against the red of his beard and skin. "He and Penelope are
expecting-twins, no less."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I didn't even know that they had
finally gotten married."

"Well, they did. At the beginning of summer. Just a small ceremony
right at the Ministry, as a matter of fact." Glancing around the hall,
he cleared his throat and continued, "A rather uh, rushed affair,
under the circumstances," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh," she said, her hand flying to her mouth. "You don't mean?" She
paused and imagined Percy Weasley, proper and pompous, being hurried into
hastily-arranged marriage because of an unexpected pregnancy. "Oh,
your mother must have been livid," she said, shaking her head.

"No, she was surprisingly calm. Actually," he added, his voice dipping
down into a whisper as he leaned closer to her, "Fred and George are of
the opinion that perhaps she suggested to Penelope that, if she was getting
tired of not being able to pin Percy down to finally setting a date, it
might be prudent to become a bit forgetful about the Contraceptive Potion."

"Oh, she wouldn't!" she squealed, feeling both amused and slightly scandalized.
Crookshanks sprang into her lap, and she began to pet him absentmindedly.

"All I can say is that she was been very happily knitting away ever since,
making two of everything," he said, sitting back in his chair.

"I would have thought they would have wanted a big ceremony though?" she
asked, scratching Crookshanks' ears.

Charlie shook his head as he crossed his legs. "Well, Penelope just
seemed relieved to finally get the ring on her finger and Percy was trying
to draw as little attention as possible to the timing, of course." He
rkedrked and rolled his eyes. "I'll bet you ten galleons that he'll
insist upon telling their children that they were married the previous year.
And as for Mum, well, by the time Bill and Fleur finally get married,
she will probably have her fill of large ceremonies." He closed his
eyes for a moment. "Four months to go and I swear it'll be a miracle
she and Madame Delacour don't end up dueling each other to the death before
then."

"I thought it was Bill and Fleur who had the fiery relationship?"

"Oh, yeah," he agreed, cheerfully. "Fred and George are starting
to take bets on whether or not Fleur will end up walking down the aisle.
Or if she'll just keep walking and and not stop at the altar," he joked.
Shaking his head again, he continued, "Although Ginny joked the other
day that maybe Gabrielle and Ron would be standing by, ready to fill in for
them if that happens."

He opened his mouth to add something else, but shut it abruptly as he realized
that Hermione's face had gone suddenly still and white.

"Oh, hell, Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, his freckled face turning a brighter
shade of red. "I just thought that you and Ron had-" He broke
off, and gestured helplessly with his hands.

"We did," she said, swallowing hard. "We decided it was never going
to work, and we're just fine being friends," she insisted. "It's just
that-I had seen it in the paper, but-" She shook her head, looking
confused. "But her sister's just a kid!"

"Well, she always looked like one," he agreed. "Seems that Veela
blood keeps a girl unnaturally small and young-looking until, until she-"
By now the deep scarlet of his face would have put the Gryffindor
rubies to shame. "-blossoms," he finished, lamely.

Hermione found herself giggling loudly, in an almost hysterical manner
for a moment. "So she has 'blossomed' then?" she asked, rising
to her feet and dislodging a surprised cat from her lap. "And no doubt
Ron and all the other males within visual proximity have noticed."

Charlie was struggling to his feet as well. "Oh, cripes, Hermione,"
he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't have said
anything, but I just figured that Ginny must have written to you."

"No, no, it's my fault," she said, reaching down towards Crookshanks, intending
to apologize by petting him again. But the cat drew back reproachfully,
not quite ready to forgive her transgression of having unceremoniously dumped
him from his spot. "I purposefully told everyone not to write to me
this summer and this is my reward." She smiled and shook her hand. "Seems
as though I have quite a lot of catching-up to do."

Charlie still looked absolutely mortified, but before he could say anything
else their was a high-pitched squeal, and they both turned to look in the
direction from whence it had came.

"Professor Granger!" The voice was loud and absolutely delighted.

"Dobby!" she answered, and even if she hadn't been anxious to conclude
her conversation with Charlie, she would have been hard-pressed to ignore
the little house-elf. As usual, he wore a pair of brightly-colored
and mismatched socks, but Hermione bent down and squinted as she tried to
fathom what on earth he was wearing on the rest of his body.

"Does the Professor see?" he asked, bouncing up and down happily on his
little feet. "Dobby has never forgotten all the wonderful clothes that
you knit for him," he assured her.

Blinking rapidly, she realized that he was somehow managed to sew the hats
and socks that she had spent the better part of her Fifth year knitting
into a weirdly thick, but colorful and soft toga-like outfit. "I see,"
she said slowly. Behind her, she heard the muffled sound of laughter
as Charlie surveyed both of them.

"Dobby has heard that Professor Granger would come back to Hogwarts today
and is wearing this in honor of your return!" he cried.

"So you don't normally dress this way," she said, as she straightened up.

"Oh, no, Professor, Dobby has lots and lots of clothes to wear now!" he
assured her.

"Good!" she said, pausing to throw a wink in Charlie's direction. "Do
you happen to know where my rooms are, Dobby?" she asked, bending down to
retrieve her packand and briefcase.

"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, leaping forward and snatching up the parcels
before she could reach them. "Dobby knows, and has seent alt all of
your trunks have been taken there already. Dobby will show you the way
now and get the Professor's cat some cream," he offered.

At this, Crookshanks purred loudly.

"A dish of water and some food will be fine," she said.

Crookshanks turned and gave her an annoyed look before bounding after the
already rapidly-retreating figure of the house-elf.

"See you at dinner, then!" called Charlie.

She turned and smiled back at him, thankful that the momentary awkwardness
had disappeared. "All right," she smiled.
"And by the way, Hermione?"
She turned back to look at him.
"Try not to make the rest of us new teachers look too bad by being perfect
at everything right away?" he asked in a very serious voice as he raised his
hands together in a gesture of supplication.
In response, she cheerfully stuck her tongue out at him.
"So where are we headed?' she asked, as she caught up to Dobby and Crookshanks
again.
"The fourth floor, Professor," he answered, puffing slightly as he began
to hop up the stairs. "There is a nice set of rooms there, close to
the Gryffindor tower and the Headmistress said she hoped you would like it."
"I'm sure I will," she answered.
Indeed, she thought a few minutes later as she stood and gazed around her
new quarters, they seemed to be wonderful. The bedroom itself was just
a bit cramped, and she was already considering changing the bed from a four-poster
to something a little less forbidding, hoping that it would make the room
look more spacious. But there was a huge closet and the main sitting
room was good-sized, airy and bright. The walls were lined with shelves
and there was a large and ornately carved desk, which still managed to have
the hint of a feminine touch to it. And in the corner there was a window
seat topped with a set of plush cushions, and she could already imagine herself
and Crookshanks spending many hours happily ensconced upon it as she read
and graded papers.
She opened up one of the trunks and removed some essential items and by
the time she had hung up some clothes and her new robes and arranged a few
of her toiletries, Dobby had already returned carrying two ridiculously ornate
bowls containing food and water. Placing them upon a thick mat underneath
the sitting room's second window, he asked Hermione if there was anything
else she needed. Assuring him that everything was perfect, she watched
as he bounced out of the room again and then made her way to the bathroom.
Deciding that she didn't have time to indulge in a shower or bath, she
threw off her clothes and contented herself with a quick scrubbing of her
face and upper body.
Hurrying to dress in fresh clothes, she debated for a moment about whether
or not she should it was necessary to dress formally in robes. Charlie
had been dressed in blue jeans and a casual, short-sleeved shirt, so she hoped
it was not going to be egregiously casual for her to appear in the Headmistress'
office in a demure summer dress. Shrugging the garment over her head,
she smoothed it over her hips and decidedly that it appeared to be an acceptable
compromise. She padded back to the sitting room and retrieved a pair
of good sandals from the other trunk and then returned to her vanity to apply
a quick coat of lipstick and to run a brush through her hair. Securing
the wavy strands back into a ponytail, she nodded in satisfaction and then
took in a deep breath and prepared to make her departure.
"You staying in here for awhile?" she asked. Crookshanks, who was
perched by the open window, peering out of it as his ears twitched excitedly,
didn't even bother to turn around at the sound of her voice. "All right,
then," she laughed, "I shouldn'tgonegone long anyway."
As she closed the door behind her and turned down the hallway she found
herself hoping that the staircase that Dobby had used to lead her to her
room had not as yet decided to change its direction. As familiar as
she was with Hogwarts, she had to admit that it would take a few more trips
through this section before she felt absolutely comfortable. To her
relief, the staircase had either remained in place or changed back again,
and within a very short time she found herself standing before the gargoyle
that stood guard over the Headmistress' office. It leapt aside obligingly
as she pronounced the password, and she couldn't help but think that there
was something almost feline in the way it moved. She wondered again
just how much everything in Hogwawas was going to change with McGonagall
in charge.
The big oak door seemed familiar enough, however, and she tried to ignore
the fact that her heart was suddenly beating loudly as she knocked upon it.
"Come in!"
She opened the door to find McGonagall looking up from the desk that had
previously stood within the Transfiguration room, while already rising from
his seat and rushing toward her with a smile upon his tiny face was Professor
Flitwick.
"Oh, we'd hoped you be in time for tea," he squeaked, shaking her hand enthusiastically.
Inwardly, Hermione breathed a silent prayer of relief that she had taken
time to rid herself of her morning's rather large portion of liquid refreshments
before venturing forth. Releasing Flitwick's hand, she moved to greet
McGonagall, who had risen from her seat and strode around the desk to greet
her. For a moment, she wondered if she was dressed too informally, for
the Charms professor was wearing his traditional robes. As the Headmistress
approached her, however, she noted thankfully that she was dressed simply
in a white blouse and long plaid skirt.
"Yes, indeed," she said, extending her hand. To Hermione's surprise,
she did not content herself with a simple shake, but clasped her left hand
upon their entwined fingers as well and gave it an affectionate squeeze. And
was it her imagination, or was there a hint of moisture in those green eyes?
"I am most delighted that you accepted my invitation to return to Hogwarts
to teach," she said simply, releasing her grip.
She gestured toward a small oval table near the window, upon which stood
a tea service and several platters filled with sandwiches, cakes and other
delicacies. "Shall we begin?" she suggested.
For the next few minutes, they busied themselves with the pourin the the
tea and the filling of their plates.
"Not that anyone every doubted that you would someday return as a professor,
my dear" proclaimed Flitwick, who paused to charm an additional cushion onto
his chair to ensure that he could see over the tabletop. "Now, you don't
mind if I call you Hermione, do you?" he asked, in a friendly manner. "Since
we are equals, now?" he added.
"Oh, no, please do," she assured him, as she stirred the sugar into her
tea.
"And from now on, I am Filius," he added, smoothing the napkin over his
lap.
"Thank you," she said, "I'll do my best, but-"
"It will seem strange at first," finished McGonagall with a smile. "Believe
me, I know," she said, adding honey to her own cup. "Therefore, I will
allow you an occasional lapse during the first month or so," she continued,
taking a sip of her tea. "But after that," she warned, setting it down,
"There will be no excuse for not calling me Minerva."
"I'll do my best," she repeated, shaking her head ruefully as she took a
small bite of her sandwich.
"Anyway, as I was saying, Hermione," said Flitwick, wiping his mouth
with his napkin. "By the end of your first year here at Hogwarts, there
had already been a spirited debate in the Staff Room regarding not if you
should teach, but which subject it should be." He laughed and reached for
his cup. "I regret to say that Minerva and I entered into a bet that
should you choose Charms, she would have to pay me five galleons." Heaving
a large sigh, he tilted his head to the side. "Instead, I found myself
having to hand over that exact sum to the Headmistress this morning."
"Of course," added McGonagall, adjusting her square-rimmed glasses upon
her eyes, "Your other instructors felt just as strongly. Even Binns
allowed that, should he ever decide to leave his post, you were the only
student who seemed even remotely capable of filling his shoes."
"Hmm," replied Hermione, feeling a slight warmth upon her cheeks. "But
of course," she said, setting her sandwich down and reaching for her cup,
"You don't expect me to believe that Professor Snape expounded upon my talents
in potions."
To her surprise, Flitwick unexpectedly began to choke upon his beverage.
"Perhaps not," he admitted, once he had managed to catch his breath again.
"But-" He hesitated and shot a bemused glance in McGonagall's
direction.

"But I was very close to asking you to please consider teaching Potions
instead of Transfiguration," she said, bending over to pour some fresh tea
into Flitwick's cup.

"Before Professor Snape rescinded his resignation?" she asked.

"I see you have been talking to Hagrid," said McGonagall, the ends of her
mouth curling up slightly.

"Well, yes," she admitted.

"We were very lucky, very lucky indeed that Severus reconsidered," murmured
Flitwick.

"Couldn't you find anyone to replace him?" Hermione asked.

"No one who was even remotely qualified was interested in the position,"
clarified McGonagall. "It seems," she said sitting back in her chair,
"That for some strange reason, very few of the Hogwarts graduates of the
past fifteen years or so were very eager to pursue the subject once they
left these walls." Her lips twitched upward again and Hermione had
to keep from smiling herself as she realized the inference of her words.

Of course, since Snape had been teaching, the students had been roughly divided
into two groups: Slytherins who received passing grades no matter who
abysmally they performed in class, and the rest of the student population
who were regularly chastised, belittled and bullied until only a very few
could even tolerate the sight of a cauldron.

"But, since he reconsidered-" McGonagall began, only to be interrupted by
the sudden appearance of an owl through one of the high, open windows of
the office. The bird appeared to be in a great deal of hurry, for it
landed upon the arm of the Headmistress' chair and held out its claw quite
impatiently. She had barely managed to remove the small note when it
fluffed its feathers and then hurried back out the window, completely ignoring
the treat that Professor Flitwick had held out in his tiny fingers.

"That's rather strange behavior," said Hermione, frowning at the window through
which the bird had departed.

"Well, I believe," said Flitwick, placing the tidbit back upon the side of
his dish, "That it is Professor Sinistra's owl, so perhaps it has only f
fr
from the Astronomy tower. She was also due back today, was she not,
Minerva?"

She nodded her head in reply as she unrolled the piece of parchment and smoothed
it out upon the table to read it. By the way her mouth thinned out
as she read, they could only deduce that the news it contained was quite
unpleasant.

"Something wrong?" Flitwick asked.

Pursing her lips in a most disapproving manner, McGonagall handed the paper
to him.

"Oh, my!" he cried after a moment.

"Bad news?" asked Hermione, anxiously.

"Well," allowed Professor McGonagall, accepting the parchment back from Flitwick,
who was frowning down at his plate. "Rather unexpected, shall we say."

Hermione felt suddenly uncomfortable, feeling that perhaps the news, whatever
it was, concerned matters that were too confidential or too sensitive
to discuss in front of her. "Perhaps I should go," she offered, moving
to place her napkin on the table.

"No, no, my dear, not at all," cried Flitwick, suddenly bright and cheerful
again as he sprang down to the floor. "I know that Minerva and you
have things to talk about, and I have many things to attend to myself. I
will look forward to seeing you at dinner," he called over his shoulder as
he hurried out the door.

A moment later the door had clicked behind him and Hermione turned to look
quizzically at the Headmistress.

"It appears," she began sitting back and tiredly removing her glasses, "That
Professor Snape has asked Professor Sinistra to assume the role of Head of
Slytherin House."

Hermione felt her jaw dropping open with surprise. "But-but," she offered,
in a shocked tone of voice as she struggled to make sense of this pronouncement.
Taking in a deep breath, she collected her thoughts. "In the
first place, I didn't even know that she was a Slytherin," she began.

"Yes, she is the only other staff member at the moment who was a member of
that house during her school years," said McGonagall, pinching her nose for
a moment before replacing her glasses. "Though that is not, strictly
speaking, a requirement for assuming the duties." Seeing Hermione's
surprised expression, she continued. "As a matter of fact, Neville
Longbottom has already agreed to accept the role of Head of Hufflepuff House
this year."

She blinked again in surprise and then reached out to pick up her teacup,
sipping at the liquid as she turned these unexpected developments over in
her brain. She had always assumed that only former house members were
eligible for the positions when they came available, but no one had actually
come out and said it was an absolute rule. On the other hand, she had
to admit that Neville would be surprisingly fair-minded and undoubtedly well-liked
in the position once the shock wore off. He had proven himself to be
remarkably resourceful and courageous during the war, earning the grudging
respect of all the houses.

"But," she continued, "I must admit that Slytherin House has never had a
non-Slytherin as its head."

"Well, in the second place," Hermione sputtered, "I mean she's a wonderful
teacher, but-" She hesitated and took a swallow, wondering just how
honest she was allowed to be.

"Go on," McGonagall urged.

"She stays up in her tower all the time," she finished. "I mean, how's
she supposed to be prowling the halls and watching the students and taking
off points and-" She stopped and swallowed again. In other words,
how was she supposed to take Snape's place?

She glanced back at McGonagall's face and found, to her surprise, that she
was smiling sadly.

"Yes, it does seem quite out of character for Severus to relinquish that
power, doesn't it?" Picking up the piece of parchment, she opened it
up and frowned as she quickly scanned again. "But, as long as Professor
Sinistra has agreed to it, I am afraid there is little I can do to interfere."
Sighing heavily, she tossed the parchment to the table. "And
I sincerely doubt that Professor Snape is in any mood to discuss the situation
with me."

Pushing back from the table, she rose from her chair and began to slowly
pace up and down. "You know, Hermione, that Severus and I have always
had a fragile relationship at best," she said. "He was a brilliant
but difficult student, and I confess that the outright hostility between
him and some of his contemporaries made it difficult to remain neutral in
their disagreements. Looking back, I can see that there were times when my
own prejudices combined with Severus' natural surliness may have compromised
my judgment, making me favor other students more than I would like to admit."
She paused to and stared down at the floor for a moment before raising
her eyes back to Hermione's face. "And once he became Head of Slytherin,
the antagonism between us only continued to grow. Not that I will admit
to being the only guilty party in that regard."

Sighing again, she walked back to her desk chair and seated herself. "I
sincerely believed that when he stormed out of this office that day after
giving his resignation, that he would never return."

Hermione slowly turned her chair to face the desk. "Why did he return?"
she asked quietly.

"I'm not quite sure," she admitted, shaking her head. "But when I received
his letter, inquiring as to whether or not his former position had been filled,
I knew that Albus would never forgive me if I turned him away." Clasping
her hands in front of her, she allowed another small smile to flit across
her lips. "Along with the fact that I truly had not found a suitable
replacement, if course."

"However," she continued, sitting back in her chair. "I could also
not deny the fact that many of the things he had told me that day were absolutely
true. I had been preferential to the Gryffindors in the past, and I
was continuing to do so now." She studied the ceiling for a moment
before continuing. "Oh, of course I had the excuse that the war had
left few people capable enough to teach, plus I did want to surround myself
with people I knew well and trusted. And yet-" She lowered her
head and looked Hermione directly in the eyes. "If I had heard Severus
make the same claim, I would have been highly skeptical that it was anything
other than blind House prejudice was influencing his decisions."

Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully. "Hagrid told me some of what
went on that day," she said slowly. "But I got the definite feeling
that my name might have been mentioned?"

McGonagall studied her carefully. "Are you sure you want to know?"
she asked.

"Yes."

"Well," she said, looking down at her hands. "When I mentioned that
he was desperately needed because I had no one to to teach Potions, he
said something along the lines that there was 'a certain little know-it-all
Gryffindor who would be ecstatic to show off her expertise in any scholastic
field'."

"I see," she said, studying the ground for a moment.

"It's rather a compliment, you know?" she asked, gently. "At any rate,
it was certainly nicer than his parting comment to me when I asked him to
reconsider his decision, for the sake of the school."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and waited.

"Well," said McGonagall, clearing her throat. "Let us just say that
he advised me that, as far as he was concerned, I could take the entire school
and place it within a very confined space within my body."

"Oh!"

"And he did not suggest performing a shrinking spell before I attempted it,"
she added dryly.
- 5
- 6
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