A Turn for the Better

Chapter 30 ~ Providing Information

Hermione studiously filled out the questionnaire, having to stop for supper with her parents, then rushing back to her room to finish. She was on the part where she had to give information on whether or not she and Professor Snape had been intimately involved before.

When she put yes, several other questions appeared.

Did this sexual union occur:

0 – 1 year ago
1 – 5 years ago
5- 10 years ago
10 years or more ago

Hermione hesitated. For her it had only been weeks ago, but for Snape it had been decades. After giving it some thought, she decided to go with Snape's remembrance.

She checked the little box next to "10 years or more ago" and waited.

The next page filled in with the following words in red:

"Professor Snape should be arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Contact local authorities at once."

Hermione's mouth formed an "O" at these directions. She quickly erased the checkmark and the page went blank again. Ten years ago she would have been only eight. The book dealt only with linear time, so, in its view, Snape was a bloody pedophile.

Hermione checked the 0 – 1 year ago. Then she would have been seventeen by the book's definition and the Age of Consent, so it should continue without advising that Professor Snape be thrown under Azkaban ASAP.

Next the book asked if there had been any life-changing moments shared between them. Were there? Most definitely yes. She had changed an entire timeline by going to him. And recently, she saved his life. Sure, she was the one who put his life in jeopardy in the first place, but that didn't change the fact that she saved it. Or it shouldn't.

Hermione checked "Yes," then meticulously outlined the events as best she could, giving all the necessary information. She had previously given a description of Snape as honestly as she could, including that he was at least eighteen years her senior, quite reserved and a stickler for propriety. The major obstacle to his responding to her favorably was that she was his student.

The book also asked if there would be an opportunity for them to be in each other's company. Hermione wrote down she would most likely serve detention with him until the end of the school year, and then after that she would be apprenticed to him for the next four years.

The final question the book asked was to describe Professor Snape's shortcomings, suggesting it would help if she looked at him from the standpoint of another who didn't like him. This would be for balance.

Hermione didn't think Professor Snape was terrible at all, although there were plenty of people who did, and were quite vocal about it away from his presence. She had plenty to write on that aspect, although she didn't agree with most of it. Well, he could be less nepotistic when it came to point taking, and he didn't have to seem to enjoy it so much. And he could be very sarcastic, even cruel when speaking to others who had pissed him off in some manner. And he assigned terrible detentions, often giving instructions on how each rule breaker should be handled, even assigning specific tasks to be carried out. That really wasn't necessary to do, but he'd do it anyway. He also gave a lot of pop quizzes and actually picked on students he didn't like. And . . . come to think of it, he never gave her proper marks. They were always a bit lower than they should be.

After she wrote this down, she was asked to finish by listing derogatory names he was often called, whether in his presence or behind his back:

Bastard
Gaylord
Git
Gorm
Greasy Git
His Nibs
Bat
Misog
Greasy Bat
Moaning Minnie
Dungeon Crawler
Numbnuts
Prat
Wanker
Dick
Bad Egg
Bag of Shite
Chump
Clot
Cockhead
Dork
Fecker

The list seemed endless, so Hermione finally stopped, embarrassed she knew so many euphemisms for the professor. But hell, she'd been at Hogwarts for seven years. She was bound to pick up a few unsavory titles and descriptions concerning the still-snarky wizard.

The word "Completed" appeared at the bottom of the page, then another smaller note that informed her she would have to wait twenty-four hours for the book to compose the next chapter, and that peeking would put it back to square one.

"What?" Hermione said, outraged as she stared down at the page.

What kind of book was this? A book of torture? She had to wait twenty-four hours to see what it said about them, and if she peeked, she'd have to wait another twenty-four hours? That was unconscionable and . . . unfair. But it also showed that whatever the book had to say, it would have been processed carefully. A fast answer might have been more satisfying but less reliable. No wonder the book was so expensive. A lot of magic and thought had gone into its creation. It could probably be ordered at Flourish and Blotts however. It wasn't that bad a book.

Hermione closed the book and put it inside her nightstand drawer so she wouldn't be tempted to open it. Then, she had a thought and took the book back out, laying it on the bed. She pulled out her wand to check it for Dark Magic.

No, there was none. That was good. She wanted Professor Snape but not to gain him by using advice from an evil instrument. There was often a steep price for that, involving some great loss. With Dark Magic, nothing came for free.

Hermione went downstairs to spend some time with her parents. Her mother was in the kitchen washing dishes and her dad was in the living room reading the latest dentistry magazine. He looked up when his daughter entered and smiled.

"Oh, I thought we'd seen the last of you for the evening, kitten. Laying off the books a bit, are you?" John Granger said amicably.

Hermione sat down.

"Yes, dad, I am. I need to tell you and mum something," she said. "It's very important. It's about my future education. What I've decided to do."

Her mother Jean walked to the kitchen door.

"Now this sounds interesting," she said, smiling at her daughter. "Is there going to be another dentist in the family?"

Hermione colored. She knew her parents would like her to follow in the family business, but she just wasn't into the care and maintenance of teeth. She didn't find them the least bit fascinating although there was plenty of business in Britain. She'd never starve for lack of work.

"Ah, no, mum. I figure since I am a witch, I'd work in a magical field," she replied softly.

"Oh, really?" Jean said, walking into the living room and sitting down on the sofa next to her husband. Hermione could tell she was disappointed, but making a good effort not to show it.

"Yes. I've been made an offer to continue my Potions education under the instruction of one of the wizarding world's foremost Potions master. He has never taken on an apprentice before, so it is quite an opportunity. I'd be foolish to pass on it," she said eagerly, hoping her enthusiasm would wash off.

"Potions, eh? Sounds a bit wooly to me," John Granger said, frowning slightly. "You mean making poisons and such?"

"Oh no, dad. There are hundreds of helpful, wonderful potions that can be made. It's a great field. There are potions that can . . . can . . ."

Hermione hesitated, then launched into a familiar monologue.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... but he can teach me how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death," she said to her parents, paraphrasing Snape's first year speech.

After all, it had hooked her.

"Sounds impressive," her mother said, looking at Hermione's father, who shook his head.

"So tell me, kitten . . . how much is this apprenticeship going to cost us?" he asked her, used to paying tuition.

"That's the good part, it doesn't cost anything but my time!" Hermione exclaimed, hoping this aspect of the apprenticeship would please her father.

Jean frowned slightly.

"But what about your books? Lodgings, food and the like, Hermione?" she asked her daughter.

"It would all be provided for me, mum," she replied.

"Are we talking a full scholarship here, Hermione?" John asked her.

Hermione thought about it.

"Sort of. It . . . it just comes from one source though," she responded, her eyes dropping to her hands.

That one tiny action put both of Hermione's parents on alert. Hermione had been dropping her eyes whenever she wasn't being completely forthcoming since she was a child. It was a habit she never broke.

"All right. Tell us what's really going on here, Hermione, and no dipping around the facts, young lady," her father ordered, putting the magazine down on the table and leaning forward, his brown eyes resting on his little girl.

"An apprenticeship works a lot like a scholarship in that everything is provided for you. But it doesn't come from a fund, it comes from the person instructing you. Your master or mistress. They provide your room, board and education. In exchange, you work with them, helping them in the field and learning at the same time," she explained, "because of this investment, a master or mistress will only pick very promising pupils to instruct. I'm very fortunate, because Professor Snape says he's never seen someone more promising. I'll be his very first apprentice."

"Professor Snape . . . Professor Snape. Say, isn't he that teacher who looks as if he could use a spot of sun and needs a hair wash and cut?" her father asked her, his eyes narrowing. "I remember him. He looks like a villain off the telly."

"Well, he does have a distinctive way about him," Hermione said furtively.

"He's old enough to be your father," John shot back at him. "Are you sure 'instruction' is his angle, Hermione?"

"Dad! He's my teacher," Hermione said, a pulse in her belly.

"That doesn't mean anything. He could still be a kiddie fiddler," John Granger snorted, as Jean shook her head. John didn't want to recognize that Hermione was no longer a little girl, but a young woman. Even if this Professor Snape was attracted to her, it wouldn't make him a pedophile.

"Dad! I'm not a baby!" Hermione said, affronted. "Anyway, you've got twenty years on mum! You don't consider yourself a kiddie fiddler do you?"

"No, but your mum was twenty-two when I courted her, and I didn't watch her grow up like a vulture waiting for carrion," her father responded. "She was a proper young woman then, not wet behind the ears like you are. You have no idea what prats men can be."

"Well, I'm getting one now," Hermione muttered.

John's eyes widened.

"Don't get cheeky with me, young lady. I can still turn you over my lap!" he growled at her.

Hermione stood up, angry now.

"And what, dad? Pull down my knickers and spank my bum until it's nice and pink? Oh, that's really nice. Nice and disturbing. Now who sounds like a dirty old man?"

Jean gasped as John turned a deep red.

"Hermione Jean Granger! How dare you speak to your father in such a manner! That's a perfectly awful thing to say!" she scolded her daughter.

Hermione looked at her mother with tears in her eyes.

"Well, why does he have to assume the worst? Can't he see that I've worked hard all my years at Hogwarts, and Professor Snape just might see something in me that's good and worth the effort of training me up? Can't it be that he finds my intelligence and potential reason enough to offer me an apprenticeship? Why does it have to boil down to my wearing knickers? It's insulting. It's as if my mind means nothing . . . to either of you!"

Hermione ran sobbing back into her room, leaving a silent John and Jean Granger behind. After a few minutes, Jean said softly, "John, you were rather hard on her."

John scowled.

"I wasn't trying to be hard on her, Jean. I just don't like the idea of this Snape character just . . . just giving her things. Nothing comes for free, Jean. He's going to want his pound of flesh," he replied.

Jean sighed.

"Weren't you listening to Hermione? She said that she would be helping him. That's service, John, like barter. It's really a fair exchange if you think about it. She isn't working for him for free, and she's gaining something important that she can use in the world . . . well, her world anyway," she told her husband softly. "Besides, Hermione is eighteen now. She doesn't need our permission to accept an apprenticeship with this teacher, John. And if you alienate her, we might not see her again for a very long time after she graduates. You need to think about that. I don't want Hermione to have to choose between us and what she wants for her future."

John took in what his wife had to say, then sighed as well.

"I don't either, Jean. It's just so hard to watch her grow up and away from us. I realized how ridiculous I sounded when I threatened to turn her over my knee when she responded the way she did. It drove home the fact that she is a young woman, and I've influenced her all I can. She doesn't need me anymore," he said glumly.

Jean placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"Aw, John. She's always going to need you. You're her father and she loves you. But she's an adult now, love, and she needs to take charge of the direction of her life. Hermione's always made good decisions. We've raised her well. We're just going to have to trust that we've done a good enough job with her that she'll continue to move forward. But don't think she doesn't need you because she's grown up. You're her father, and a woman only has one father. But she needs you to respect who she is now, and let her live her life."

"It doesn't bother you that she wants to go off with this Snape character?" he asked his wife.

"I don't see it that way, John. I see it that she wants to learn from him, that she wants to continue her education and he's offering her a way to do it. It isn't always about sex, John. At least, not with women," she told him softly.

"Yes, but . . . but Snape's not a woman. He's a man like me, and Hermione is not only brilliant, but she's attractive, Jean. He's bound to see that," John said as his wife caressed his arm.

"Yes, he is, John . . . just like you saw that in me all those years ago. Remember how my father reacted?"

John sighed. Did he? He had a shiner for a week when he showed up at Jean's flat to take her out.

"But you've been very good to me, and we've had a good life together, despite our age difference. I've always been very happy with you. I'm not saying things are the way that you're making them out to be, but even if they are, John, there's the possibility that Professor Snape is a good man. If Hermione finds herself attracted to him, we shouldn't try and interfere. We've been on that end of it," she told him wisely.

John sighed again. His wife made a lot of sense, but then again, she always did. She was a logical woman and always had been.

"Well, I still want to meet him then, check him out for myself," he said sullenly.

"Of course. That's to be expected," his wife told him. "Why don't you go and tell Hermione that?"

John blinked at his wife, then stood up.

"Yeah, I'd better do that, if she hasn't packed up already," he muttered, turning and walking out of the living room.

Jean watched him go, her throat feeling a bit tight. She was Hermione's mother and loved her daughter greatly, but John Henry Granger doted on her. It was harder for him to let go. It had to be so painful for him. She hoped they could fix what was threatening to break between them before Hermione returned to Hogwarts.

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John Granger knocked tentatively on Hermione's closed door.

"I'm sleeping," Hermione called out.

She was in bed and under the covers but hardly asleep.

"If you were sleeping, kitten, then you wouldn't have answered. I want to come in. Your old dad has something to say to you," he said softly.

Hermione lay there in the dark, frowning for a moment . . . then sighed.

"Come in then, dad," she said.

The door opened and John clicked on the light.

Hermione was in the bed, turned away from him and facing the wall, her body stiff and unresponsive. As he looked at her, John couldn't help but remember her as a little girl, so small in the bed, smiling up and him and holding out her arms for a hug.

"I love you, daddy. I'm going to marry you one day," she'd tell him, kissing his cheek lovingly. That always made John laugh.

"I think there are laws against that sweetness, besides I think your mother would put up one heck of a fight," he told her gently, "Daughters don't marry daddies. They marry other people. That's the way it's done."

"Well then, I'm going to marry somebody who reminds me of you," Hermione promised him.

"You can take your time about that," he said to her, hugging her tightly. "There's no rush on that."

John blinked back the tears that were forming in his eyes, then wiped at them with his hand, a little gasp slipping out. Hermione turned immediately, looking up at her father with wonder as he blinked quickly, composing himself.

"Dad? Dad are you . . . crying?" Hermione asked him, sitting up in the bed now.

"No! No, of course I'm not crying. Do you think I'm some kind of Nancy boy or something?" he said to her gruffly.

"No. No, I don't, dad," she said, "something must have gotten into your eyes. Sit down."

John pulled up the little wooden chair against the wall and lowered himself into it carefully. He was a big man, 6' 2" and one-hundred and ninety pounds. He was in his early sixties, but in good shape, his brown hair peppered with gray. He took Hermione's hand.

"Kitten, I know you're growing . . . er . . . all grown up now," he started, faltering. "I'm sorry I threatened to turn you over my knee. You're too old for that now. I'm your father. All your life I've done my best to protect you . . . and it's hard to see that you don't need or want my protection anymore. I feel like . . . like you don't need me."

There. He'd gotten it out. He wasn't a man big on expressing himself, but he didn't want to lose his only daughter because he didn't want to let her go. She had to know how he felt so she'd understand he wasn't trying to hurt her. He just wanted to . . . to keep her close, protect her. But, that time of protection was past now. He had to accept it and what's more, let her know he accepted it. Accepted her.

Hermione's eyes filled. She'd always need him. He was her father and she loved him dearly, even if he did act like a testosterone-filled ape some of the time. He got into a brawl at the local club just three months ago because some bloke hit on his wife. Yes, he was very protective of the women in his family. Hermione was his child, and his responsibility. But . . . his child was a woman now and had to take responsibility of her own life. The torch had been passed, and as much as John Granger might have wished it, it could never be returned.

"Dad, I'll always need you," Hermione assured him. "But I have to make my own decisions now. I just want you to respect them, even if you're not exactly happy with them."

John nodded, "I know. I know, Hermione. It's just going to take a little time to get used to you taking charge of your own life and not having to answer to me. But I'm sorry that I made you feel as if all your hard work over the years didn't matter. They did matter. I'm so proud of you. All those high marks. I brag about you all the time down at the pub and to my patients. 'My little girl,' I say, "is the most brilliant little girl in the world.' And I mean it too. You've always been special. I should have known other people would see it too. So, if you want to take this apprenticeship, I'll support you. It's all I can do anyway, but I do want to meet Professor Snape," he told her softly.

"Oh you will. It's required, dad," she told him, the heaviness lifting from her stomach as she looked at her father. He looked . . . he looked suddenly older and a bit tired.

"All right, then," he said, starting to rise, but Hermione pulled him back and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, daddy," she said softly.

John hugged her in return, once again blinking back tears. He didn't do a good job of it.

"You're welcome, kitten," he replied.

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A/N: A bit of conflict at the Grangers, but the apprenticeship had to be addressed. Thanks for reading.