Transfiguration of the Heart

A/N: This was a weird chapter for me to write. I suppose, because it’s hard getting just the right amount of snarky-ness into Snape’s voice while I write what’s going on in his head. I hope I’ve succeeded.

Thank you so much reviewers! I really appreciate your comments.

Chapter 2- Young Love

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing that this evening would end just as quickly as it had started.

His blacker-than-black mood was solely due to the cheeky disposition of the girl sitting nearest him to his right. It was not even a full day into the new term and already he was ready and waiting anxiously to hand out detentions and deduct precious points away from Gryffindor. He wanted nothing more than to see those rubies fly away, out of their glass holding place.

Unfortunately for him, though, he could not take away points from a professor, much less a Head of House.

While he was not one to question Minerva’s judgment upon whom she thought a correct hire as an educator, he was seriously beginning to wonder about possible senility setting in, chiefly considering that this dreadfully unprepared witch was taking over her favored subject. Minerva had held herself to the highest possible perfection while teaching, and she would expect no less from someone taking over the class. That was, apparently, until now. Something had to be slipping from Minerva, and he worried that it was indeed her mind. Not that he would begrudge her that. After all she had suffered through the wars, she deserved at least some much needed rest, and if letting her mind go was how she did that, then so be it.

However, magic was powerful and put into the untrained hands of someone teaching others, it was most destructive. She had only been a student herself a year ago. She was a brilliant witch, he would admit that freely, but she was simply not ready to face the task of molding the minds of the future, even though she thought she was. It was just too soon for her to follow in the footsteps of her former favorite professor.

Could you imagine Hermione Granger a professor? Hermione Granger, the resident know-it-all, incurably impudent, too-brave-for-her-own-good third of the Golden Trio, professor? She did not have the temperament to teach. She was not even twenty years old! She had no apprenticeship beforehand with Minerva; the only training she had was while in Minerva’s classes, classes that she had more often than not skipped out on because of War business her final year at school. It was utterly absurd to think her capable of this tenure.

After all, it was his obligation to assure that the students of Hogwarts received the highest level of education possible from gifted wizards and witches, even if student incompetence knew no bounds. This was the least he could do to repay the community he had taken so much from while working as a double agent for the Order and for the Dark Lord, peaking in the murder of Dumbledore. He had every right to question the girl’s aptitude to teach. And the more he questioned it, the more he knew for certain that Hermione Granger was surely not the best that could be found. Even if the wizarding world had lost many due to imprisonment or death, there had to be at least one person out there a few years older than her.

He might have even tolerated Lockhart again, if he had not had his mind obliterated years ago by Weasley’s faulty wand.

When he and Minerva had had their first discussion about Granger’s appointment, him originally going to her office to request that she rethink her decision, she had only gazed at him over her square spectacles with a twinkle in her eye. It was eerie just how much like Dumbledore it had been, though his gaze would have done over his half-moon spectacles. And they had the same Cheshire cat smile as well, as though they new something he did not. So it was pure lunacy that had driven her to hand over these powers as Transfigurations professor and head of Gryffindor House to the girl.

“She is much more prepared for this than you give her credit for, Severus. Besides, she’s a Gryffindor. I have no doubt she’ll come out smelling like a rose.”

A week. He would give Granger one week. If the students did not scare her away, surely working with the likes of him would.

Suddenly, the young witch laughed at something Krum said, seemingly just to taunt him, though he knew well enough that she had not given his already frayed nerves a second thought. Under so much stress these past years would make anyone’s nerves threadbare and in turn make anyone unbearable to live with, as was his case. But he freely let people know he did not like them much either. No one really ever gave him a second thought because of this, unless they were on a receiving end of one of his punishments. It was just the way Severus Snape liked it. He could wallow in his own miserable life alone, in his personal chambers, and reflect continually on what he could have done different in his life.

The girl laughed again, the sound grating on him, intensifying the headache now starting at the base of his neck.

Severus grumbled.

That boy would deter her should she ever wish to depart from her current position. Perhaps that was why McGonagall had arranged for Krum to come here? Did she worry that Granger would indeed be scared away without another incentive to stay?

He was not completely immune to the eyes she had made at Krum when he first entered the hall. Did a relationship still stand from his time here at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament? Possible, but utterly preposterous. Krum’s family was very Bulgarian and very pureblooded Bulgarian, at that. They would balk if they knew Granger was a Muggle-born, despite their son’s obvious enamored state. Besides the point, he could not conceivably understand what such a gifted witch could see in someone like Krum. While handsome and cheerfully sweet much of time to those of the female persuasion, Krum clearly was not what one would label ‘sharp’.

But then again, Potter and Weasley were not incredibly intelligent either, and she ran around with them for seven years.

Severus really did not care what she did with her life, whether she stayed here or not, even if it meant countless headaches to him. It was her life, and if she did stay here she would have to learn who was in charge. But somewhere, deep within his black heart, he thought that she should not satisfy herself with this position yet. Being a professor at Hogwarts was for those who wished never to settle down and make more incompetent magical people, or were otherwise incapable of wooing the opposite sex to do such a thing.

Like him.

Or for people who were ex-Death Eaters and murdered the greatest wizard that ever lived.

Like him.

She was none of those things. She was a hero in her own right after the war—Order of Merlin, First Class—and teaching at Hogwarts clearly was not what she should have condemned herself to. So that left one question: What had drawn Hermione Granger, a disrespectful and opinionated girl with so much future ahead of her, back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? No matter Minerva’s skilled ability at roping people into doing what she wished, the bushy-haired witch clearly had wanted to come back for some other reason.

Minerva excused the prefects to show the first-years the way to their common rooms and dormitories, giving him what he wanted: a quick end to the evening so that he could escape down into his dungeons and not be required to reemerge until the following morning for breakfast.

“Severus, would you be so kind as to show Viktor where his office and private chambers will be?” Minerva questioned.

He bowed his head in recognition, motioning to the ape of a man to stand up and follow him. Could Filch not do this? Apparently not. Krum stood without complaint, but stopped when Granger stuck her arm out and stopped him. “Minerva, if there is nothing Professor Snape needs to speak with Viktor about, I would be happy to show him where his rooms are. They're the ones that were being prepared this morning, correct?”

Severus did not know whether or not he should be thankful Granger had jumped in and taken the responsibility away, or upset that she had obviously thought this task beneath him to show Viktor where to go. He sighed heavily. Well, Krum could have gone to Hades for all he cared, so perhaps he would be thankful for the girl just this once, even if this provided a wonderful opportunity for the two sneak into the room and do who knew what. He met her eyes, both bored and cold and he thought for a fleeting moment he had seen that look somewhere else.

Minerva gave her a motherly smile and a quick nod of her head, “Very well, Hermione.”

Just don’t stay too long. You have classes in the morning.

The venerable headmistress did not say so much, but her look conveyed it perfectly. A slight pink crossed Granger’s cheeks as she turned to Viktor, who towered over her by two heads. “Ready, Viktor?”

Nodding his impossibly large, but incredibly empty head, Viktor grabbed his fur-lined coat and offered Hermione his arm. Severus shook his head. The look on the man’s young face was enough to tell him that he was much more pleased that Granger was the one showing him to his room. They disappeared out of the hall, following the last of the students out.

Minerva sighed happily, “Young love.”

By looking at her, one would deem Minerva a staunch believer in rules and very much a disbeliever in the emotions of the heart. To everyone who knew her a bit better knew that Minerva had a softer side. She was utterly… female.

Severus quirked an eyebrow up, knowing that his sneer had only deepened at her comment.

Minerva looked at him, “You know what young love is like, Severus.”

“Lily and I were never in love,” he said flatly. “It was pity she felt for me and nothing else.”

He stalked away from her. He was quite content that he had never felt enamored with another woman again after that unfortunate crush. The one time he had let his guards down, and really fell in love, she had only been around him for school work help or for pitying him because of what her true paramour and his friends did. She had been the reason he became a Death Eater in the first place. His hatred for all Muggle-borns was created in the moment he spied her and Potter in a dark corner at the end of their seventh year. Never again would he think about a woman as he had thought about her. It would inevitably kill the last, living portion of his beating heart, and he could not afford that chance.

It was self-preservation at its finest.

“Do not go yet, Herm-own-ninny.”

The voice traveled through the empty halls despite the effort by it’s owner to be as quiet as possible. With the unmistakable accent, there was little hiding that he was talking despite the effort to be quiet. And Merlin did he despise hearing Krum call her that!

“I’ve got to stop at my house commons, Viktor. To make sure all my students are accounted for,” she said softly.

“Then you should come back,” he said.

Severus grew closer to them, but paused for a moment in the shadows, curious to see how this would end. If Granger resisted the temptation, then he might start to think she was absolutely serious about her position as a professor.

“Viktor,” she purred. “Classes tomorrow. I have some last minute preparations for my lessons.”

“Herm-own-ninny,” he said, almost in a whine. Severus rolled his eyes.

Been a long time since your last conquest Viktor?, Severus thought. It probably had been too. After all, the World Cup had been a long two weeks ago. Surely he had plenty of witches to fill his bed that night. Two weeks with nothing was quite a drought for him.

Granger’s annoyed sigh was audible. “Viktor, what I told you last time still stands.”

“Vot is that?” he questioned.

“You are one of my closest friends, but nothing more,” she said.

Viktor chuckled, “That is vot you think now.”

Severus shook his head. Really, he was waiting for the ape to fall to his knees and beg. At least it would be humorous. Severus did know that the girl was an obstinate one, and when her mind was set, she would stick with her decision. And her decision was apparently not to entertain Krum’s advances. He had to give her points for making the distinction quickly that she could do much better.

A dreadful smacking sound filled the still air, one that was distinctly created by lips coming together. It was time for him to leave. He may have enjoyed eavesdropping, but he certainly would not enjoy it if he would have to listen to that some more. Straightening his shoulders, he began his descent further into the bowels of the castle, but ran smack dab into Granger hastily trying to get away. Her curly hair was springing from all angles out of her bun, and she looked flushed, but it was hard to discern if she was flushed over the kiss or because she was angry, because all he could see in her eyes was a level of complete exasperation.