Duck Duck Goose

Duck . . . Duck . . . Goose!



By MysticSlave







Disclaimer: We own nothing but the story concepts. All HP characters and similarities to the books are JK’s.







Chapter Four: This, too, shall pass











Halfway down to the Great Hall, Severus was joined by Wea—Ron and Pot—Harry. ‘Somewhere the Fates are laughing at me,’ thought Severus.







“Hullo, Hermione!” exclaimed the boys, “How are you this morning?”







The urge to be dour was overwhelming and with this new body, he was learning that it was hard to mask his emotions. Luckily it would seem that either Hermione wasn’t a morning person or that Ron and Harry simply were not very observant people. Then again, how many teenage boys are very observant if it doesn’t have to do with sex, food, or sports? “Fine, thanks,” said Severus.







The three students made their way into the Great Hall, Harry and Ron laughing over something and Severus trying to look interested until he realized it was Quidditch. He knew that from his own observations that while Hermione would support the boys when they were actually playing, she tended to tune out discussions of the sport; thus, he was safe in doing the same. It wouldn’t do for Hermione to suddenly express a heretofore absent interest in Ron and Harry’s favourite sport.







They sat down in their usual spots at the Gryffindor table, and waited for the food to make an appearance.







The doors suddenly swung open with a bang as Professor Snape swooped towards his seat in the Great Hall.







Severus watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye, glad that she got the movement of his robes down so quickly and that she obviously knew where he sat at the High Table.







Hermione was starving. She took her seat at Snape’s place and waited for his breakfast to materialize. With a soft pop a mug of extremely potent black coffee appeared. She waited. Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. ‘Didn’t the man eat?’ she wondered. She scowled at the table. A small piece of toast appeared. ‘Well, that’s better than nothing,’ Hermione decided as she took a bite followed by a sip of the coffee. She nearly spit it out it was so strong. She scowled again, this time directing it at the ‘Golden Trio’.







“Wow, Hermione,” said Ron nervously, “Snape’s looking your way and he looks bloody ticked off. Did the potion have some bad result?”







Severus chanced a glance at Hermione, noticing the way his . . . her brows were knit together, the way her lip curled in disgust . . . and the mug of coffee in her hand. ‘Gods how he wanted that cup . . . he would do anything for it,’ thought Severus with an inaudible sigh. He shrugged at Ron and Harry. “I don’t know, I guess Snape’s just in a bad mood this morning.”







“You must be too,” commented Harry.







“Why do you say that?”







Harry and Ron looked at each other. “You called him Snape, like we do, ‘Mione, and you’re forever telling us that we need to be respectful and call him Professor Snape and that he’s not a git, and you know, all of that,” explained Ron.







Severus was surprised though he was careful not to show it. ‘Miss Granger defends me?’ “I guess I’m just tired, Ron,” he told them, “The Draught of Living Death takes a lot out of you,” he continued, thinking idly that not having one’s morning coffee also takes a lot out of you and no doubt by the end of the day everyone would be steering clear of Hermione.











Hermione was having similar thoughts as she watched Snape watch her. She slipped her hands into her robes and conjured a clear glass vial into which she discretely poured the remaining coffee. One sip had told her it wasn’t for her. She’d slip back down to the dungeons and have a house elf bring her something before her first class. She hated the thought of going through them but didn’t see any other alternative for the meantime.











She slipped out of her seat and strode towards the Gryffindors.











The boys looked on suspiciously while the girl just eyed her appraisingly. “Miss Granger,” she said stiffly as she handed her the vial, “It is imperative that you take this potion as soon as possible to help with any after effects of the accident. You will take it as many mornings as it is deemed necessary.”







Severus eyed the vial and then eyed Hermione. “What is it, sir?”







“Don’t ask foolish questions, girl, just drink it. I’m not out to poison the lot of you, despite what you may think.”







Severus uncorked the vial and sniffed it. ‘Coffee, it’s my coffee, thank Merlin!’ Without a second thought he drank down the entire vial and handed the bottle back to Hermione. “Thank you, Professor Snape,” he said.







Hermione merely nodded at him and swept out of the Hall.















The coffee much improved Severus’s mood and he felt much more able to attend Hermione’s classes. He got through Advanced Charms, Herbology, and Arithmancy without any difficulty as they were all classes he had excelled at himself; he was relived to find that nothing had really changed. Hermione’s wand worked well enough for him, though he lacked some of the finesse he had with his own, but his skill in the subjects made up for the lack.







After lunch came Expert Transfiguration. Severus was truly dreading this class. Not only was it a subject he was never that skilled in, considering it foolish wand waving, even though he did pass his NEWTS with top marks, he was also dreading facing the Deputy Headmistress. ‘Merlin only knows what Hermione’s usually like in class,’ thought Severus in despair. He only hoped that they were discrete enough to act like nothing was afoot behind-the-scenes while in class. Thankfully, it seemed that their classroom relationship was quite professional.







After class, Severus gathered his belongings together as quick as he could and made to escape while the professor was busy. This was where his luck started to dry up.







“Miss Granger,” called Professor McGonagall.







‘Bloody hell,’ he thought, ‘Almost made it.’ “Yes, Professor?” he said, turning around to face the older woman.







“You did very well today, Hermione, but some of your wand movements were a little off,” the Deputy Headmistress explained, “I think you need to come by this evening for some extra lessons. The potions accident from the other day and your stay in the hospital seems to have affected your skill. Remember I said you need to practice every night – especially if you hope to perfect your animagus form.”







“Yes, Professor,” said Severus. “What time should I come by?”







Minerva eyed her student appreciatively. “Let’s say eight o’clock, shall we? That will give us both time for dinner, and then you can meet me in my private chambers, Hermione. Does that suit you?”







‘No! It doesn’t suit me at all!’ Severus wanted to exclaim. Instead he murmured, “Yes, Professor, that suits me fine.” Severus smiled, a bit timidly, at the older woman, and traipsed back to his room.







Minerva watched her go; eyes so bright as to rival Albus.











By the time Hermione had reached the dungeons, waylaid by practicing her best smirks and snarkiness by deducting points from quite a number of students, Slytherins aside, of course, and ensuring that she had everything she needed for her first class, she had had no time to eat what she considered a real breakfast, making her nearly as irritable as Severus would find himself over the course of the next week. ‘Perhaps we’ll just let him walk into that one,’ thought Hermione. ‘I may respect the man, but good old fashioned revenge is often sweet . . . if a little bit messy when one doesn’t see it coming, or even have any reference points to expect it!’















Hermione was pacing back and forth in the classroom, eying her first year students as they attempted to brew the standard first year boil curing potion. She prayed that none of these students had skills reminiscent of Longbottom that would result in one or more students being coated with foul substance resulting in a trip to the infirmary to remove said boils.







The students were used to their professor glaring at them and swooping up and down the aisles to check for the tiniest of infractions, so his pacing across the front of the classroom somehow seemed like a better deal to the unsure students.







Unfortunately, one of them caused an explosion anyway; one worthy of Longbottom. Hermione caught sight of the mess as it started to boil over and cast a containment charm on it while glaring at the luckless students paired at the cauldron. Hermione’s fast reflexes saved the classroom as well as most of the students from injury and destruction. The duo working on the potion, however, had started to sport a few nasty boils. Apparently the potion had splattered a bit before it started to noticeably boil over the sides. “Mr. Hooper, please escort Ms. Redman to the infirmary at once and since you were the last one to touch the potion, stay with her until Madam Pomfrey says she will live.” The students, sufficiently cowed, headed towards the door. “Oh, and twenty points from Ravenclaw for your carelessness, Mr. Hooper,” Hermione said with a smirk.















At last the morning classes were over and she could relax in her office. She stared at the pile of papers that needed marking, finally grabbing a handful, hoping to make a dent in them, though, given the sheer ineptness of the students she’d taught this morning, she doubted she’d find any essays that weren’t calling to be slaughtered by the quill.











As she worked on the essays, she heard a knock at the classroom door. “Enter,” she called magnanimously. She heard the door open and then slam shut. ‘Must be ‘me’.’







She turned to see herself, a bit flushed and scowling staring at her.







“Yes, Miss Granger? To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”







Severus scowled at her. “Drop the act, Hermione,” hissed Severus. “No one’s in the classroom, and there are silencing charms on this office. I get to enjoy extra studies starting tonight.”







Hermione grinned. The look was quite odd on Severus’s wan face. “You’re lucky they didn’t start when we were still in the infirmary,” she growled, “Minerva gets lonely quite fast.”







“Swell,” was the only response to this new information. After a pause, Severus asked, “You’re training to be an animagus?”







“Yes, we started a few weeks ago.”







“Do you have a form yet? Minerva said we’d be working on that tonight . . . I’m not sure if my form will affect yours any when practice comes about. That is if we’re actually doing anything that would constitute as school work tonight,” this last bit came off quite put out.







Hermione considered this. “I’ve never read anything that would lead me to believe it would be a problem, yet I suppose we are in a rather unique situation.”







“You Gryffindors do have a way with stating the obvious, Hermione. Do you have an established form?”







Hermione frowned at Severus.







“No, Severus, I do not. Min wanted to firmly establish the theory of the transformation before any attempt was made on my part. What I would like to know is, what is your form and will it leave a lingering affect effecton whatever my form should be or should have been?”







Severus could only shake his head. “That I do not know, Hermione, we shall have to wait and see. The only bit of luck I see left here is that you do not have a shape yet, therefore if I transform into my own animagus for during lessons, Minerva will be none the wiser as she’s never seen mine.”







“Tsk, tsk, Severus. Unregistered, are we?”







Severus scowled at Hermione. “Well wouldn’t you be if you were a spy for the Dark Lord?”







Hermione smiled. “True, I suppose that slipped my mind. I’m not used to wearing the Dark Mark.” Hermione shuddered slightly at this thought. “Would I be able to transform while in your body?”







“And let us pray, Miss Granger that you never have to feel the terrible pull of the Mark either.” Severus thought about her question. “I suppose you would be able to, but if you haven’t attempted it before you could risk being stuck that way and then we’d really have a mess on our hands. If you stay in your animagus form too long, you risk being stuck like that forever unless someone who shares the same or very similar form can lure you back out. Your mind gets stuck in the animal mentality.”







“Hmmm,” mused Hermione. “Min mentioned something about that, but she didn’t go into much detail. I think she’s hoping I’ll be a kitty so that we can have another way to play together.”







Severus shuddered in pure horror. “I really didn’t want to know that, Miss Granger! Bleargh!”







Hermione grinned. Severus noted that the look actually suited his face and made him appear younger than his years. Not that he had any intentions to go around grinning like a fool when he got his body back. Though the idea had merit in as such it would certainly terrorize a few students to see their dreaded Potions Master smiling at them.







Hermione checked the time. “You’d better get going or you won’t have much time for dinner before your extra lessons, Severus.”







He nodded. “Have you decided on lessons for the Advanced class for tomorrow?”







Hermione nodded. “Yes, I think I know what will be best; but I think I’ll just let you wait and see like everyone else. Go on.”







Severus scowled. Hermione scowled back. Severus stepped back nervously. ‘Yep, he was definitely intimidating; he’d be on his way now.’







Hermione grinned to herself as Severus scampered away. Her body just couldn’t handle some of his more graceful exits and he had to settle for more girly ones, as he had put it. Scowling did not suit her face, it made her look pouty. She needed to train him out of that particular habit; at least while he was wearing her skin.











Severus was sauntering back upstairs to head for dinner when the drawling tones of Malfoy caught his attention.







“Well, if it isn’t the mudblood down in the snake’s lair,” he intoned, his voice sickening in its syrupy-sweet way. Severus hated it. He hated what Draco had said nearly as much. Hermione was bossy, and a know-it-all, but dragging such terms as mudblood up really was low.







He turned and faced the blond Slytherin.







“And just what is the mudblood doing, sullying the cool dungeon air for? Trying to worm your way into an apprenticeship? Professor Snape will never take a bossy wench like you.”







Severus was livid. As if he’d take Malfoy for an apprentice. He really had no desire to take any student as an apprentice, but although Malfoy had excellent marks in Potions, he had no desire nor care for the Potions he brewed. His potions were good and they worked well enough, but they had no deep magical signature imbrued in them which is what made them potent. Wouldn’t Draco be surprised when “Severus” did indeed take “Hermione” as an assistant.







He smirked. This look he had more or less perfected on Hermione’s softer features. It wasn’t as intimidating as it would have been in his own skin, but it still elicted a delightful response in others.







“And what would a prat like you know about it? You’re too much of a git to take potions when you need to because it would mean admitting there were things you couldn’t handle.”







“As if, Granger. You don’t know anything about me.”







“You’re a screamer, Malfoy, and you,” her voice got low, “wet the bed,” she hissed out.







“Are you taking the mickey, Granger? How dare you suggest . . .”







Severus placed one hand on his hip, shifted his weight and made a well-known dirty Slytherin gesture with the other. One he knew Malfoy would recognize as his esteemed father was fond of it. One that indicated that through some means of Slytherin cunning, whatever had just been said was known by the speaker to be pure and utter truth.







Malfoy paled, turned tail and ran the other way.







Severus smirked. ‘Glad to see I haven’t lost my touch. Haven’t used that little move since I was a student.’







He strolled the rest of the way to Great Hall feeling quite pleased with himself.















Severus lingered over dinner as long as possible. He was not looking forward to the evening’s activities. ‘Just my luck,’ he thought. ‘I’d never get a woman while in my own skin, and now that I’m in the skin of Hermione, who I suppose is pretty enough, and thankfully is attracted to woman . . .Merlin only knows what I’d do if I had to pretend interest in Ron or Harry! . . . and I’m stuck with Minerva, the old hag!’







He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned to find Harry watching him intently. “Mione, are you okay? You seem . . . I don’t know, sort of nervous.”







Severus smiled to the best of his ability, willing himself not to flinch under Harry’s touch. “I’m okay Harry. I’m . . . it’s just that we might actually start into some more difficult lessons tonight . . .” he said vaguely, not sure how much they knew.







“But Hermione,” protested Harry, “you love difficult lessons! You did fine brewing the Polyjuice our second year and I know for this you’ve read every single book on animagi that exists in Hogwarts!”







So they did know. He shook his head. “I’ve heard you can get stuck in your animal form if you’re not careful though. Maybe I’m just remembering my Polyjuice experience being half-human, half-cat!” she exclaimed despondently.







Harry smiled. “Yeah, but that potion wasn’t meant for animal transfiguration, Hermione. What you’re doing now is meant for animal transformation, and you’re a smart witch. I’m sure you’ll do just fine, and if you get stuck, Professor McGonagall will be right there to help you.” Harry finished reasonably.







Severus was surprised to find that the boy could think logically and appeared to be quite sensitive to his friends needs. ‘Thank Merlin he isn’t as dense as he would appear to be, or we’d all be in trouble.’







He nodded morosely. “You’re . . . right, Harry,” he said, trying not to seethe with having to tell the boy he was right about something. Harry didn’t notice. He put down his napkin. “I guess I should go, I’ll catch up with you all later if it isn’t too late.”







He glanced up at the Head Table. Minerva was watching him intently. Severus felt he was being watched by something that considered him prey. Hermione was also at the High Table, glaring furiously at him. He frowned, almost not recognizing the emotion in her eyes as it was so out of place on his face. She was jealous!











The walk to Minerva’s private chambers seemed far longer than usual, and at the same time, he was there all too soon for his liking. He raised a hand and knocked. \'I could still run away,\' he thought.







“Enter!” called out a jovial voice. She had gone the back way and beaten him.







Sighing heavily, he reached out his hand, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. His fate was now sealed.