Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. Belong to some lucky woman over in the UK.
'Unlikely' is an Understatement Chapter 1All in all it had been a good summer. This year's return to Hogwarts would be bittersweet, certainly lacking in its former celebratory joy. Hermione was more than a little sad to realize it was nearly September the first, and truth be told, a little apprehensive as well – both new feelings as concerned returning to school. She was currently standing in the middle of what once could have been called her room and now could only be termed a National Disaster Area. Clothing, books, and extraneous belongings were piled knee deep on the floor and covered every available surface in their wait to be packed. One lucky suitcase was already waiting in the hall. The other lay open on her bed as Hermione folded and shoved things into it. There was something soothing about the methodical, precise process that was packing. Hands busy, her mind was free to wander.
Though, considering the events of the past two weeks, it might have been better not to let her mind free. That was when she had received that too familiar envelope, and her blissful summer had been rudely interrupted. Hermione had been staying with the Weasley's over the holiday. Ron had come home from university – as bombastic and hot-blooded as ever – and Harry was on summer break from the English National team. In the rare moments when they were not reliving the past as the Dream Team, Harry was stealing shy looks at Ginny Weasely, and smiling in a hazy, foolish way. Molly Weasley, matron extraordinaire, was ecstatic to have children living in her house again to fuss over and yell at. The other members of the Weasley clan were in and out; Arthur and Percy appearing rarely in the constant cleaning up at work, Fred and George nearly every day, Bill and Charlie on rare trips home, usually for convalescence.
It had been fun in an innocent, uncomplicated way. The Dream Team, the Terrible Trio reunited for hunts of garden gnomes and covert operations to steal warm cookies and pies, acting like the eleven year olds they'd never had the chance to be. At some point Harry and Ginny had started holding hands, and Ron was practically tearing Pig to pieces trying to get the mail, and Hermione, well, she'd spent some time reading in the sun with Crookshanks purring on her lap. Then that fateful day, two weeks ago, when the mail arrived, rather oddly indeed, under the doorstep.
It was the heavy parchment envelope she had seen once a year for seven years. The one that had changed her life radically from the line it had been pursuing. And she hadn't seen or received one in nearly three years. Somehow she managed to hide it from three curious Weasley and one curious – and far too perceptive for his own good – Potter. Reading it out in the garden alone had been, well, an experience.
"Miss Hermione Granger,
The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after having assessed your work and credentials, is inclined to offer you the position of Potions Professor. Please respond with your decision within the week.
Severus Snape
Headmaster
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"
Seeing his name signed to the letter had been an incredible shock. Seeing the title Headmaster below it nearly put her into cardiac arrest. The happy little hope that had been growing stronger as she read the letter committed an abrupt suicide. Luckily, she also had the other letter to read.
"Miss Granger,
Undoubtedly you've read Severus' letter. He's not one for over emotional displays, even in his letters. So I have taken it upon myself to assure you of the excitement all of the staff feels upon the possibility of your return to Hogwarts as a teacher. We look forward to having another brilliant mind to provoke debate, and are especially anxious to se you return to us. All shall be explained upon your return, and undoubtedly you have a great many questions. Inquiring minds indeed deserve to know, and you will be fully enlightened upon your arrival.
Albus Dumbledore"
She hadn't known whether to be thrilled or frightened. Snape as headmaster, and she asked to be Potions Professor. It was all thoroughly too much, and she was tempted to decline, in a desperate bid to save her sanity. Had not Dumbledore sent the extra letter…Well, if he really did expect her to accept, she might as well go.
And so she found herself today, finishing her packing silently in her room, shrinking the last few clothes to fit in the suitcase. The offending letter lay on her nightstand, looking as singularly menacing as a piece of paper possibly can. She sighed and threw her weight on top of the suitcase, struggling to shut it. Her train was due to leave in two hours, and she knew she still had to get through a tearful family farewell, as well as the inevitable panicked race through London to just make the train. Hermione scanned the room carefully for a last time, pocketing odds and ends that she had missed. Finally she took the letter and, without looking at it, carefully put it in the back pocket of her jeans before stepping out onto the landing and shutting the door.
Rather surprisingly, she arrived at the platform with plenty of time to spare. The ride was uneventful, and Hermione passed it in fitful sleep and nightmares of failure and misplaced faith. Hogsmeade station was dark when she arrived, a good nine hours later – the regular train was rather slower than the Hogwart's Express. There was not a soul on the platform, and after a few minutes of waiting, Hermione decided it would be best just to walk it. She grabbed one bag in each hand and began to walk slowly towards the cheery lights of Hogsmeade.
It was a good twenty minutes later when she reached the edge of the town, and faced the long, dark road to the castle doors. With the warm glow of the town behind her, staying over for the night was looking better and better. A few moments later she was trudging back in the direction of the Jolly Goblin, suitcases dragging in the dust.
The inn was warm; everything bathed in the cheery orange glow of the fire. It smelled vaguely of alcohol and sweat and people, but not of the spoiled beer and decaying food that defined so many other taverns. The door swung closed behind her softly as she walked in and deposited her suitcases beside an empty table. A knot of people was sitting near the fireplace, the only other occupants of the room. Hermione turned back towards the front desk, intent on finding the proprietor. She didn't notice when someone came up behind her, that is, until they put their hand on her shoulder and she jumped about three feet into the air.
"Miss Granger, what a pleasure to find you here! We didn't expect to see you at all tonight." It was Professor Sprout, round face beaming with pleasant surprise. She grabbed Hermione's bags in one hand and her elbow in another and led her over to the back table. The knot of people Hermione had observed earlier was a group of her former professors, and soon to be colleagues.
There was Professor Flitwick, still as tiny and excitedly fluttery as she remembered, hands clutching a stein of beer that looked entirely to big for him. He was speaking animatedly with Professor Sinistra, who was as tall and grave in appearance as she had been three years ago. Hooch was sitting beside her, also clutching a glass, and arguing loudly with Hagrid. The half giant beamed when he saw Hermione, and stood to give her a big hug, welcoming her back loudly, and slightly drunkenly. A chair was found for her, and she was soon ensconced between Bill Weasley, the newest in a long line of Defense teachers, and Professor McGonagall. Within moments she found herself with a beer in hand ("Come on Hermione, you're well enough of age!"), and Bill pushing a plate of something hot and delicious in front of her ("My mother would kill me if I left you in this famished state.") Around her the merry chatter grew, leaving her content to listen and eat.
"So, happy to be returning to us?" asked McGonagall.
"Well, yes, very happy. Hogwarts always was a second home. It's just – " and she broke off swiftly, uncertain whether this was an appropriate place to air her anxiety.
"Our wonderful headmaster?" called Hooch sarcastically from across the table, before taking another swig from her glass. Laughter rippled around the table as Hermione blushed and nodded her head.
"He's just a bit irritable," Flitwick said.
"He's just got a stick shoved up his – " snapped Sprout.
"Now, now Bryony, no need to crass. Hermione's still eating," interrupted McGonagall. The whole table laughed at that.
"Don't worry dear, there's a whole staff full of people who are more than willing to back you up. There are some things one must unite against, and Severus' irrational outbursts top that list," said Professor Vector with a warm smile.
"Venus knows, they happen often enough," commented Sinistra wryly.
"Is he…I mean, you don't seem very…friendly towards him," Hermione ventured timidly. The table broke into smiles again.
"Oh no, Severus has never been what you would call a friendly person. He's a good headmaster, in his way. Just given to the occasional insensible explosion," explained McGonagall.
"Which we usually whole-heartedly ignore," added Sprout. Everyone laughed at that, even Hermione. She was losing some of the reserve, and anxiety, she'd built up on the trip. A small yawn escaped her – it had been an awfully long day.
"It's getting awful late. I think I'm heading back to the castle now, if anyone would like to join me," offered Bill, standing and stretching lazily.
"I think I'll take you up on that," responded Vector, also standing. Hermione nodded her assent as well, grabbing onto her bags. "Considering the travel you've done today, Hermione, I'm surprised you're still awake this late," remarked the arithmancy professor. The three left to the sounds of shouted goodbyes from the rest of the table. Outside, Bill insisted on carrying the bags, and probably would have carried her as well f he'd had the extra arms. As it was they started up the path towards the castle, which did not seem nearly as long or as dark with the company of the two older professors.
"Well she's a sweet girl," commented Flitwick as the door swung shut behind Hermione, Bill and Sinistra.
"Indeed, that she is," agreed Hagrid, downing his tankard and wiping his beard with the back of one hand.
"She and Bill Weasley would make a sweet couple, don't you think?" opined Vector thoughtfully.
"Dear Circe, Sethunya, she's only arrived an hour ago!" exclaimed McGonagall.
"Well, Minerva, he is the youngest one in the castle by a long shot. No offense meant Finnian, Rubeus."
"None taken, Seth."
"Honestly Minerva, she's young, needs a bit of fun in her life. Where else is she going to get it? Next youngest after Bill is…Severus," threw in Hooch, with an exaggerated shudder.
There was a collective eye rolling at the table.
"Whether she has 'a bit of fun' or not, it'll still be nice to have someone so fresh and young on hand. I'm beginning to feel moldy myself," laughed Sprout.
"Indeed. Let's jus' try and keep 'er out o' Severus' way a' much a' possible. You saw 'er earlier, nervous up t' here and he weren't even at the table," commented Hagrid.
"She'll have to face him sometimes unfortunately," responded McGonagall
"We can do our best to give her a little support, in any case. At least until she's found her footing here," said Flitwick.
"She better find it quick then. Poor thing, not only is she Hermione Granger, not only is she new, but the she's taking over potions too," said Sprout. There was a moment of silence. Sethunya Vector shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, I think I'm going to follow the good example set by those three and head off to bed."
"Mind if I join you, Seth?" asked Flitwick. She smiled, and the two stood.
"Goodnight, all. Be seeing you tomorrow."
"Night. Remember, one week till students return," called Vector as the door swung closed behind them.
There was a collective groan from those remaining at the table.