Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
In the aftermath of the ball, Lily lunches with a new acquaintance, and a school club attracts new members.
Chapter 11: The Hogsmeade Saturday
Hermione awoke in a delicately balanced state of anticipation and foreboding. In the week since the ball, there had some been some personal adjustments. Hermione had herself been the surprised recipient of the sort of attention she had always thought would be the preserve of other, prettier girls. Some of the younger girls, both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, had stopped her in the halls to tell her how nice she had looked that night, as did a number of boys, curiously mostly from Ravenclaw. Harry and Ron had been treading cautiously around her, thrown off balance by her extraordinary appearance, and her continued avowal that it was all due to Snape.
Hermione had practised the Cinderella charm, and had taught it to Parvati and Lavender to silence their wails of "please, please, pretty please!" Ginny had joined them, and Hermione had to admit that Snape was right: the charm's value depended entirely upon the taste and imagination of the caster. Some of the results were ludicrous, others downright obscene. The girls had found even those entertaining; and they stayed up late Sunday, shrieking with horror and laughter, and occasionally oohing and aaahing at a good attempt. Hermione found she could largely recreate the look Snape had devised for her at the ball. It was attractive, in a sort of "I am a Dark Witch: Fear Me" way. Ginny also did well, showing an interesting flair for the colours that suited her. It took a great deal of power and skill for a charm that Hermione ordinarily would have dismissed as frivolous; and they had slept so heavily afterwards that they had all nearly missed their first class the next day.
But it was not really frivolous, she now admitted. Looking that good gave a girl a certain power, and it followed that that same power gave her confidence and assurance.
She still laughed to herself when she remembered Malfoy's horrified face the moment he had recognised her. Other Slytherins had reacted differently that evening. Blaise Zabini had brushed past her lightly, with a suavely whispered, "Very nice, Granger." Yet other members of the House of the Snake had expressed their appreciation in less sophisticated ways. In Potions Class on Monday, there had been some rather loud remarks about how much better certain Gryffindors looked "when they didn't cover their assets." Harry's clenched jaw showed him ready to explode, when Lily had defused the situation by asking Nott for some acromantula venom, and then whispering something to him that looked like a rebuke. Nott had been about to reply in a silly jocular way, when Snape had appeared from nowhere, stared hard at them all, and the room had fallen silent.
When she and Harry had seen Lily after Transfiguration on Wednesday, she told them that Snape had spoken to the Slytherins about Hermione. He had told them that Dumbledore had assigned her to be his assistant; that there was nothing to be done about it; that he would appreciate his House not making his life difficult by giving a Gryffindor reason to complain to the Headmaster. Miss Granger was officially off-limits; and unless she provoked them first, his snakelets would ignore his strictures at their peril.
By Thursday, it was all over the school that Hermione Granger was Professor Snape's assistant. Ron and Harry, who of course had known, had said nothing about it, and Harry apparently had somehow persuaded Ron that going on about it was not helpful. Her other housemates, and indeed the other houses were not so restrained, and she was constantly irritated by well-meant expressions of sympathy and the odd scathing remark. Some of the seventh-year Ravenclaws, to her astonishment, were actually jealous of her. The Slytherins, loyal to their Head, said nothing, absolutely nothing.
Some aspects of her situation had definitely improved over the past two weeks. Flitwick and Sprout had somewhat recovered from their shock, and were treating her nearly normally. Lupin had always been kind, and McGonagall simply continued with the fiction that Hermione and Lily were invisible. Her other teachers, ignorant of the secret drama, had been surprised at Hermione's new duties. Vector, particularly, seemed a little put out. "Had I known you wanted an assistantship, Hermione, you had only to come to me…."
"Oh, Professor Vector! I didn't ask Professor Snape! The Headmaster just told me I was to be his assistant and I couldn't say no to him, could I?"
Her Arithmancy professor was still disappointed, but admitted that Hermione could not have been expected to cross Dumbledore in his decision. "Still, my dear, if things don't go well with Professor Snape—you know—if there are difficulties, I would be very happy to have some help. Perhaps you haven't considered Arithmancy as a career, but you could definitely do this work—and there are so many opportunities for a good Arithmancer—in the Ministry, at Gringotts, in business— and there are even some private Arithmantic firms that would be happy to have some new blood—I mean," the teacher grew embarrassed, "that your not being connected with any of the old families might not be such a handicap as it might be… oh, dear."
"I think I understand, Professor," Hermione said quietly.
Vector drew a deep breath. "What I mean to say, in my clumsy way, is that talented Arithmancers are rare: just as rare as first class potions makers. Arithmancy, as my students are so fond of telling me, is hard, after all. A Muggleborn witch can sometimes find herself viewed with a certain prejudice, when it comes to finding a place in the adult world—those parchment-pushers at the Ministry tend to be snobbish about blood---but a top-drawer Arithmancer, especially one with a mastery in her credentials, will always find employment of some sort."
"That's very good to know, Professor; and I promise to think it over."
On the whole, Hermione had been quite cheered by the conversation. She had been more frightened and depressed than she had admitted to anyone by Snape's predictions about her future lack of prospects. She had invested so much of herself in being an outstanding student. In the Muggle world she would have been working toward admission to the best possible university, and would have had years more of being an outstanding student. There were, however, no wizarding universities: the wizarding population was not large enough to support such institutions. Instead, one could find an entry-level position, as Percy Weasley had; or one could train as a healer at St. Mungo's; or one could apply for an apprenticeship with a master in one's preferred field. Fred and George Weasley, she had come to realise, were nearly unique in starting out as proprietors of their own business.
Friday Potions had been eerily quiet. They were finishing a Blood Tonic preparation, and the air in the dungeon was heavy with a tang of iron that could be tasted as well as smelled. Hermione overheard the excited murmurs from the Slytherin contingent planning to make the most of their Hogsmeade outing tomorrow. Since the great Azkaban breakout, there had been no sign of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and people were beginning to settle back into a complacent agreement that the lot of them had gone to ground or fled to foreign parts. And good riddance.
Dumbledore did not seem to be of that mind, however, and had made elaborate arrangements for the security of the students. Harry and Hermione knew that some Aurors would be on duty there in Hogsmeade, and both the teachers and the students were warned to be on the alert for any suspicious activity.
Quiet too was her Friday night with Snape. He had spoken to her gruffly, but not rudely.
"Here," he had said, gesturing at the worktable covered with monkshood flowers. "Remove the stamens without dislodging any more of the pollen than you can manage. Grind them finely in the number 3 gold mortar. Why are you wearing a ring? Is that silver?"
"White gold, sir."
"Muggle jewellery," he had sniffed. "Remove it. It probably contains silver as well as nickel, as you should well know. If you must wear jewellery, pure gold is chemically more stable, and thus a far better choice. Then wash your hands thoroughly if you wish to learn to make the Wolfsbane Potion."
She was learning to deal with him on a one-to-one basis, when there were no Slytherins about that he need pander to. Sensibly, but with difficulty, she managed to suppress the questions that bubbled to her lips. Was this to be for Professor Lupin? Obviously, Hermione, she chided herself. Don't ask Snape stupid questions—you know it irritates him. Try to think before you speak.
Instead of chattering about the procedure, she spent the next hour and a half meticulously plucking out the stamens and grinding them until they were in fine pieces, but not yet powder; and then displayed the mortar and its contents to Snape in silence. He gave it a careful look, and then nodded. "That will do for now. Cover it and set it just over there. Now," he had continued, producing his green potions diary, "copy the ingredients and procedure from this book. I want you to study the process carefully, so that when you are here again next Friday, you will understand where we are, and can participate intelligently."
He had paused, hesitating, and then told her, "I shall be stopping at Hogsmeade Apothecary tomorrow during the outing. If you wish to learn something, I shall be there around ten thirty, and you would have an opportunity to see the shipment of African imports."
She thought, People will make silly remarks, and then, too, I suppose he will treat me like an idiot child. Nonetheless, she answered immediately, "It sounds very interesting, Professor. I'll be there."
Now it was Saturday, and she was nervous about her appointment with Snape, but rather excited about it as well. It made her feel like a person he considered worth teaching.
First, to placate her friends, she dutifully accompanied them to the Hogsmeade branch of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry, back on the team after last year's enforced hiatus, was a seeker with something to prove. He had generously and quietly stepped aside so that Ron could be team captain. "It means so much more to him, Hermione, " he had explained. "And besides, a Keeper sees much more of the game than a Seeker. It's enough for me that I can fly." Ron did not know of Harry's sacrifice, and was quite dizzy with joy at his new position as the "King of Quidditch."
Hermione smiled through her boredom, willing her eyes open as the boys droned on about the new Grip-Eeze flying gloves, and looked about for some oddments that might please them at Christmas. Through the shop window, she saw the laughing group of sixth-year Slytherins pass by on their way to Gladrags. Lily was in the midst of them, her expression set in the reserved smile she nearly always wore now. She would be seeing Harry and Hermione in the Reading Room tomorrow afternoon, whilst Draco and the rest of the Slytherin team were at quidditch practice. She had promised to tell Harry more stories of her first years at Hogwarts; and Dobby, now in the secret of the Reading Room, would no doubt provide them with a superlative tea.
Lily said little of her daily life in Slytherin, other than that she was getting on well enough with the other girls. Harry had sneered at "pug-face" Parkinson, but Lily replied that she didn't like Harry criticising Pansy for her looks.
"If you think she's a rotten person, say so; but don't attack a girl's appearance—it's very mean. She can't help her face, and I grant it would look better with a nicer expression; but I don't like to hear boys going on about girls' shortcomings."
Hermione had to agree. "I hate it when people laugh at my hair, the way they use to laugh at my teeth."
"What's wrong with your teeth?" Lily asked, puzzled.
"It's a long story," Hermione sighed.
Remembering, she laughed again at Lily's indignation when she had heard the "I see no difference" anecdote.
Hearing her, the boys turned around. Ron was outraged.
"Don't laugh, Hermione! The Cannons are going straight to the top of the league this year!"
"Sorry, Ron," she apologised. They moved on to Honeyduke's, and she picked up her usual flossing mints; but when the boys were ready to visit Zonko's, she saw it was nearly ten thirty.
"I need to stop at the Apothecary's. I'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks for lunch."
"What's at the Apothecary's?"
"Professor Snape wanted me to see the new shipment there. I thought it would be interesting."
Harry only raised his brows, but Ron sputtered a good ten seconds; and before he could manage to frame an intelligible protest, Hermione had waved goodbye and slipped out the door.
Hogsmeade Apothecary smelled a little like the Potions classroom, but greener and dustier. Jars lined the ancient oak shelves; and bins, appearing to be open, but really warded against contamination, held scores of fascinating items. Hermione saw Snape, already deep in conversation with the proprietor when she came in. He gave her a slight nod, and the apothecary, a plump, wrinkled witch of indeterminate age, beamed at her.
"And this must be Miss Granger! I'm Madam Leech. Professor Snape's been telling me about his new assistant. Well, come over here, girl, I don't bite."
Hermione approached the counter and jumped back in shock as the roaring head of a Tebo popped up before her, teeth gnashing.
"But this might!" shrieked the old witch, sobbing with laughter.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, clutching her heart, and noticed that Snape had neither drawn his wand, nor even moved.
Instead, he gazed calmly at her, remarking sourly, "Apothecary humour."
Madam Leech gave the horrible dried head on the stick another shake, and then set it in a corner. As the woman wiped her eyes with a huge red handkerchief, Snape drawled, "Madam Leech, if you are quite finished terrorising Miss Granger, I was hoping to obtain some Erumpent Exploding Fluid."
At once, the apothecary became all business, displaying a huge variety of African imports, some of which Hermione had read about, but never seen.
Unlike the endless boredom at QQS, this was interesting; and she found Snape's hard bargaining with the shopkeeper as interesting as the items she displayed. She asked Hermione a few penetrating questions, and giving Snape a nod, said, "You've got a good one there." Then nothing would satisfy Madam Leech but to call her assistant to mind the shop, and take Snape and Hermione to a back room where she kept "the really good bits." That the "good bits" included a huge stuffed sea serpent phallus, suspended magically from the ceiling, was a cause for even more hilarity.
His bargaining finished, and arrangements made for delivery, they left the shop together. Snape was silent, and Hermione felt a little awkward. A group of students, seeing them together, nudged one another.
Hermione drew breath, and remarked, "Thank you, sir, for the opportunity. I know Madam Leech would send up whatever you required, and it wasn't really necessary for you to go there personally---"
Snape cut her off brusquely. "I like to go to the Apothecary's." Bluntly said, but with an openness and frankness that surprised her. Snape seemed slightly off-balance himself, and Hermione realised that she now knew one personal thing about her dreaded teacher.
He likes to go to the Apothecary's.
She smiled briefly up at him. "So do I."
His face closed down and he snapped, "No doubt you are meeting your friends for lunch, Miss Granger. I suggest you do so now." He turned and strode away quickly, a tall and solitary figure in black.
-----
Draco had asked her to lunch. Lily thought it nice of him, if a bit pushing. It was hopeless to try to find a moment to visit with Hermione and Harry. Draco was attached to her side as if by a sticking charm, and she could give no more to her secret friends than a discreet smile as the Hogwarts party left the school grounds.
Hogsmeade was much the same as it had been the last time she was here—only last month by her reckoning—but really over twenty years before. There were some subtle changes, and some new proprietors in once familiar places. She fixed her eyes on the Shrieking Shack, as a constant in an altered universe. They strolled about the shops, visiting Gladrags, Zonko's, Honeyduke's (which she had always found pleasant); and then she stopped for a browse at the bookshop. She was so deeply engrossed in the new publications, that she was startled when Draco spoke to her and then tapped her gently on the shoulder.
"It's time for lunch."
She looked up, a little wild-eyed. "Already?" She had been so lost in the anthropology of Australian Aboriginal Magic that she had literally forgotten where she was.
Draco smirked, "It's nearly noon, Lily. You were in a different world."
She shook her head to clear it. "Yes, I was."
The Three Broomsticks was exactly as she remembered it. She felt a brief shock at the changes in the lovely Rosmerta's face. She's gotten middle-aged, but hasn't completely lost her looks, she decided.
Rosmerta gave them a professional, somewhat muted smile, and told Draco, "You can go straight on through."
Draco took Lily by the hand, and pulled her through the big, open room. A few people bristled at Draco; others whispered; some pretended not to see him, and turned their backs. Draco ignored them all, and brought Lily with him to a closed door.
"A private room, Draco?" Lily asked coolly. "I don't think so."
He gave her a naughty smirk, and held the door for her. A well-bred, feminine voice called softly from inside, "Is that you, Draco?"
"Yes, Mother." He urged Lily through the doorway, and passed her to kiss the elegantly slender witch whose perfect smile included them both. "And here is Lily."
His mother. Lily felt her cheeks burn as she warily approached the lovely woman, who was dressed in fashionable but not ostentatious style. "How do you do, Mrs Malfoy?"
"I'm so delighted to meet you, my dear, after all Draco has said about you." Lily's hand was warmly shaken, and she was shown a seat at the prettily arranged table.
His mother! She was determined not to be intimidated by a Mrs Malfoy; not by the clothes, not by the pureblood air of entitlement, not by the wealth obvious in her jewellery, her hair, and the means to offer lunch in a private room to her son and—his girlfriend. Lily's lips thinned slightly. She was going to have set Draco straight, and soon.
Rosmerta herself served them: pub food that had ascended into heaven. It was a leisurely lunch. Lily willed herself to eat, though her stomach roiled with tension, and the food went down her throat in hard, square-feeling bites. Mrs Malfoy, in the guise of small talk, interrogated her mercilessly about her family, her former school, her studies, her ambitions, her impressions of Hogwarts. Draco watched them with amusement as he enjoyed his meal. Lily understood that she was being tested and examined, and decided it was pointless to feel angry. Instead, she surreptitiously examined Mrs Malfoy in her turn.
Draco's mother was not all that different from upper-class women Lily had met in the Muggle world. She well remembered Lady Wentworth's visit to their primary school to talk about her work abroad, and she had seen the royals on the telly for years. Here was the same polished, meticulously groomed surface. Here was a pampered and privileged woman whose career---if one could call it that—was that of a trophy wife: a valuable social asset, a giver of select parties, a patroness of charitable causes.
For all that, she was no fool. She obviously had standards that she expected any prospective Malfoy bride to meet; but she was neither overbearingly arrogant, nor falsely sweet. All in all, as mother-in-law material went, Lily suspected there might be worse candidates out there.
Don't give her so much credit, she scolded herself. She's being nice because she thinks I meet her rock-bottom requirement: she thinks I'm a pureblood. She's willing to forgive me for being a provincial Canadian witch with no family influence and possibly no money; for being a stranger transferred to Hogwarts under mysterious circumstances. What she wouldn't forgive is a Mudblood dancing with her precious Draco: not if I were as beautiful as Titania or as powerful as Queen Mab. What matters is that she believes I'm a pureblooded pedigreed poodle and acceptable breeding stock. What awful rubbish.
Mrs Malfoy was obviously aware that Draco's own marital prospects had shrunk rather alarmingly. He was a Malfoy, true: he was also the son of a fugitive felon. If Lucius Malfoy had still been a free man and one of the arbiters of wizarding Britain, Lily guessed that her reception today might have been decidedly more frosty.
"A charming place," observed Lily, looking about her.
"Yes," Narcissa Malfoy agreed vaguely. "And so much more private this way. One hates to be stared at, now that—" her voice trailed off, and she looked fixedly at her plate.
Lily felt a twinge of compassion. No matter what Draco's father had done, it hardly seemed fair that his family should suffer. Still, if a few hard looks are all she has to bear, she's better off than the Defecators' victims! Oh, dear, I've got to stop thinking of them that way. I'm going to say it out loud at the worst moment.
Mrs Malfoy looked up a moment later, with a brittle smile. Draco gave Lily's hand a stealthy squeeze under the table, and the rest of the lunch passed without incident.
-----
"Lunch with Mrs Malfoy, Lily?" scoffed Harry. "Aren't we moving in exalted circles now?" It was a mad, uproarious tea party in the Reading Room. Dobby could never do things by halves: the table was covered with scones, with clotted cream, with wonderful chocolate biscuits, and with some delicious tea sandwiches. Each was hardly more than a mouthful, but such a huge platter of them added up to a great many mouthfuls indeed. Hermione wondered if she would be able to eat any dinner at all.
Lily was pink with embarrassment and laughter. Hermione noticed that she always sat with her back to the picture of the Hogwarts Library. The picture looked rather forlorn now, bereft of its occupant; and Hermione did not wonder that Lily disliked looking at it. If I had spent twenty years in the library reading Pride and Prejudice, I might be tired of it too.
"She wasn't so bad."
"I can understand that," Harry agreed. "Within the small circle of those she considers fit to live, she's probably very nice. I remember seeing her at the World Quidditch Match. I thought she was nice-looking, except for acting like she was smelling something nasty. Probably that something was me."
"At least nothing terrible happened. No Death Eaters slinging curses!" Hermione shuddered, and then reminded Harry, "We were going to tell Lily about starting up the DA again."
Harry's face lit up. "That's right! We're going to have regular meetings now that it's an official Hogwarts club. Professor Lupin's agreed to supervise, and we'll get together on Tuesday evenings."
"Harry's a wonderful teacher," Hermione told Lily, and ignored Harry's suddenly red, pleased face. "Everyone in the DA did splendidly on their DADA O.W.L."
Lily began to catch their excitement. "I can't wait to come! I think Hogwarts should have more clubs. It would make the Houses mix more, and the students would get to know each other better."
Harry and Hermione exchanged an uneasy glance. What would the others say about a Slytherin member? Hermione considered explaining the delicate situation to Lily, who ought to be able to understand. Harry, however, felt differently.
He said decisively, "We'll be glad to see you there. I hope you'll be all right though: Malfoy might send his goons after you." And he'll lose interest in her pretty quickly if he thinks she's not Death Eater material. It was one thing to know that Lily was trying to infiltrate Slytherin House. It was quite another to see her dancing with Draco Malfoy.
Lily began to understand, and Hermione remarked off-handedly, "We've never had anyone from Slytherin. It had to be secret last year, so we only invited people we thought were reliable."
"And not all of them were," Harry informed her grimly. "Hermione did the neatest bit of jinxing you ever saw on that little rat Marietta Edgecombe."
Lily questioningly raised her brows. Hermione explained, "When she told tales to that revolting Umbridge, her face came out in spots that spelled 'SNEAK.'"
Lily burst out laughing. "That's brilliant! You are a wicked girl, and my idol!" She sobered, and said, "Are you sure you want me to come? It's going to put the cat amongst the pigeons. For that matter, could I bring some others? I can simply feign ignorance of house politics, and say I want to sharpen my defence skills."
Harry frowned. "It seems stupid to train my worst enemies." In a momentary flash of memory, he saw a furious Snape before him, sneering, "You are handing him weapons!"
Lily said gently, "Harry, it seems to me even stupider to make all the Slytherins feel they have nowhere to go but to Voldemort. They are a close-mouthed lot, but I definitely get the feeling that not all of them are Oldyfart fans."
He shrugged. "Just be careful. Once you come to a meeting, it's going to get around. Maybe it would be a good thing to have some others to back you up."
"Or watch your back," Hermione added, with a shiver.
-----
Tuesday evening, the old members of the Defence Association (the tactful, public name of the group) gathered in the DADA room. Harry gave Cho a distant nod when she arrived nervously, without Marietta. Hermione knew that he had not forgiven Cho for what he considered her disloyalty last year; but she was a good student, Head Girl this year, in fact, and was thus was not only good public relations for the club, but a member whose swan Patronus had inspired others.
Harry approached Professor Lupin, who was unobtrusively watching from the sidelines. "Professor, when are you going to call us to order? I think a few more might be coming---"
"Harry, I'm just here to lend support. This is a student club. It's a good opportunity for all of you to work together, and I don't want to muck up what worked so well last year." He looked around thoughtfully, and told Harry, "If I were you, I’d start talking with them and get a feel for how the members want to organise."
"Bloody hell!" came Ron's surprised shout, near the doorway. "Stupefy!"
"Ron!" bellowed Lupin, too late. "Put up your wand at once!"
Hermione and Harry pushed through the others crowding near the commotion; and saw Lily, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bullstrode, and four Slytherin fifth years, wands out, responding to the sudden attack.
"Protego!" countered Lily, her shield charm sheltering her and those standing behind her. Beside her Blaise Zabini had cast his own counterspell, the cold blue glare of it reflecting lividly off their faces.
Harry ran up behind Ron, pulling his wand arm back. "Ron! It's all right! They're supposed to be here!"
Ron whirled on him, his face a mask of fury. "Slytherins! Have you gone mad? They're all on his side!"
Lupin had come between the hostile parties. "Now listen! All of you! This is an official Hogwarts club. As such, any student in good standing may take part. That is the decision of the Headmaster, and I expect all of you to respect it." The students stirred, and whispered amongst themselves. Lupin gave Harry an encouraging look, and then turned to the Slytherins, standing tensely in the doorway.
"Miss Jones, Mr Zabini, Miss Bullstrode. And this is Lark Moran, Strabo Bletchley, Amethyst Grimstone, and Caius Llewellyn."
Harry stepped forward and spoke clearly enough to quiet all the mutterings. "Welcome to the Defence Association."
"Charmed," Lily dimpled back, with only the slightest edge to her voice.
Blaise Zabini, with unruffled poise, extended his hand to Harry. "I see you don't take kindly to latecomers, Potter. Won't happen again, I assure you."
Ron snorted with disgust.
-----
Notes: I cite JKR as my authority that just as there are no wizarding primary schools, there are no wizarding universities. She may have since changed her mind since I read that interview, but really, the wizarding population of Britain is just too tiny. Look at the small size of the wizarding shopping district around Diagon Alley, and at the small size of Hogsmeade, which is the only all–wizarding village in England; and the fact that there is only one wizarding hospital. JKR gives no indication that there are any other wizarding schools in Britain, and I believe it is safe to conclude that there are none. This is a very, very small, insular population, no larger in total than that of a small town. Due to the long lifespans of wizards, however, the age distribution is very different from that of the Muggle world. The wizarding world is dominated, indeed ruled, by the elderly, who probably hang on to their positions for decades. I would guess that it is even more difficult for a young witch or wizard than it is for a young Muggle to find employment that will lead to promotion very early on. I’ve always wondered if Tom Riddle, leaving school to travel the world and not taking the usual routes of apprentice or entry-level office boy, was trying to find a way around the gerontocracy as much as he was trying to find a way to cheat death.
Next chapter: The Slytherin Debate— Slytherin House is in conflict over the DA issue. Lily shares some of her ideas with her housemates.