Never Piss Off a House-Elf

Sirius Black had taken the DADA position because he knew defense. He knew Albus. Roz had pushed him. But most of all, he took it because he couldn't bear being away from his godson and the boy's best friends. Black owed them a considerable lot, both for their trust over their years and his rescue. That was at least part of why he hated the idea of Hermione Granger being shackled to Severus Snivellus Snape, as he liked to think of the Potions Master, especially because of some fluke.


But Sirius also saw that on some level, Hermione was communicating with the dark wizard, and she had a modicum of happiness with the man. Sirius had known for a while that Ron was nowhere near what Hermione needed, but Sirius thought that meant she'd go along with some brilliant bloke her own age. Not a professor old enough to be her father, even if he were barely more than a child by wizarding standards.


So Sirius began to depend on his classes to distract him from the fact that by the time he got back to Harry and his friends, they didn't need him quite so much. Harry enjoyed Sirius's company, but didn't relate to him on a strictly godson-godfather way, which, if he were completely honest with himself, Sirius preferred. Both men were far too reckless for that sort of relationship.


Sirius was in the middle of such contemplation when his seventh year class arrived.


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"Sir, will we be preparing shields this time around, or are we going to continue theory of shield and shield-based magic?" Hermione's voice broke Sirius out of his reverie. He would have liked to have his students, especially Harry, Ron and Hermione, call him by his given name, but he knew that Minerva if not Albus would have fits over the idea.


"Thank you, Miss Granger, and yes, we will be preparing shields today. Before you erect it in front of you, you must imagine the shield in your mind. Be very careful, though, because if you imagine the shield as being very heavy, you may not be able to keep the projection up for very long, if at all. Please try this for the first, oh, ten minutes of class. No questions," Sirius said, catching Hermione's waving hand and placing it on her desk.


"You may speak amongst yourselves, if you like, and discuss what you want your shield to look like. You may especially want to discuss them with your muggle-born classmates, as they will have an idea of what real shields look like form their history classes."


There, he thought to himself, that should keep Hermione busy.


A dull roar engulfed the short concentration session as Hermione and her muggle-born compatriots helped their pureblooded classmates form the shields. Sirius watched, and a peace came over him. He could fit in here, teaching, helping keep kids out of trouble, watching over his godson.


"Now that you have the image, let me show you the wards you need to have in your mind. This is a bit of wandless, wordless magic, so we'll have to spend a while on it. . . "


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AN: Sorry, had to have a bit o' Sirius in there. I like him, and it helps explain why he isn't actively trying to kill/ maim Severus. Onward!


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The days dragged for Hermione. Transfiguration was the worst; Hermione had always been close to Professor McGonagall, and it felt like the older witch knew that Hermione was up to something, though she said nothing. Her Potions lesson with the Headmaster was little better, because he was constantly making references to how much better an instructor Severus was.


"I find that while I enjoy a good brewing, I never had the knack for teaching this subject quite that Severus has," Albus said later Thursday afternoon. Usually, Hermione had Thursday afternoons free, but her Potions lesson floated at the Headmaster's convenience. Hermione was fidgety because of her nerves, but Albus let it slide.


"I think we're done for today. Twelve inches on the benefits of older wormroot in the preparation of wolfsbane as opposed to younger wormroot. See you next week, Miss Granger."


Hermione left with a relieved sigh. One more day. . .


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Friday morning, Hermione awoke to the Invisibility Cloak being thrust at her by Dobby. She took it and thanked him, knowing Harry had sent it via the loyal house-elf to get around telling Ron. She rose and dressed for breakfast and her morning class.


At breakfast, she couldn't help but peek at the staff table. Severus was nowhere to be found. She was upset, but figured he was busy grading or preparing for classes. It wasn't uncommon for him to miss meals in order to do something else, but she was a little upset that she couldn't see him.


She tried to keep up with the conversations, but her mind kept wandering to the idea of sitting with her fiancée at the staff table. She gave up, finished her meal, and headed for class. She stopped in the hallway, hoping to run into Severus, but no luck. She trudged to class, more waspish than usual.


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It was at the lunch table that Hermione finally saw her fiancé. She stopped by the Slytherin table to grab Draco, dragging him with her. He struggled a bit, but hell hath no strength like Hermione, so he went along with her.


"Granger, why are we going up there?" Draco hissed, wrenching his arm from her grip and falling in step with her.


"We're going to exercise our right to sit at the staff table. And I'm not doing it alone," Hermione said sweetly, smiling at the teachers. "Besides, you're giving me a reason to sit with my fiancée."


"Just don't mention your bout of sickness for you rounds, and we'll be fine," Draco said, pulling out a chair next to Severus for Hermione. He sat on her other side and the meal continued, quite quietly. Severus seemed less than enthused about the presence of both fiancée and godson.


Severus ate faster than usual, and Hermione had to stifle the urge to tell him to slow down. He must have been mortified at her behaviour; dragging Draco along with her, acting as if they were instructors themselves instead of Heads eating at the staff table. Hermione's cheeks burned and she left, her plate still half-full.


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Hermione was pacing in her rooms after lunch. Her year-mates had potions Friday afternoons, so her absence would be expected. She was angry that she'd gone to the staff table, angry she'd dragged Draco along like some human security blanket, and angry that Severus hadn't shown any gratitude for the whole thing.


It was getting late when Draco showed up to help Hermione. His posture was bent a bit, and his tone was worse.


"Gods, this couldn't have come at a better time. He needs something," Draco said, draping the cloak around Hermione's shoulders, trying not to take in her attire. "He's walking around as if he's a tightly wound spring, waiting for something to snap him. And whatever he seems to need, you've got."


Hermione shrugged herself into the cloak, and Draco made a face.


"You know how strange it is to see your head but almost none of the rest of you?" Draco asked, a little green in the gills. "Hurry up. You're going to make everyone's life easier."


Hermione tried to smile, but her stomach was sick. Draco had been about to open the door to help her sneak out, but he stopped.


"What? Your little 'rock god' awaits," Draco sneered. Hermione glowered at him, annoyed that somehow Severus had mentioned that little bit to him. "At this rate, more rock than god."


"Stop it. Stop acting like I'm just here to rut with him," Hermione said, her throat hot and tight, making it hard for her to breathe. That was what had been bothering her since Severus had ordered her presence. "I'm not just something for him to lay into so you have an easier class."


Draco scrubbed his hand down his face, a gesture he'd surely learned from Severus. He breathed deeply, shut the door again, and turned to Hermione.


"Gr~--- Hermione. Much as I believe that my godfather would do better after some physical exertion, I also believe that you are more to him. If you weren't, he would have poisoned you by now. Even my parents believe you have something in you that helps him," Draco said, sighing. "And I have to admit that I'm a bit jealous."


"What? Would you like to be pinned under him with a gallon of pain potion for a nightcap," Hermione said bitterly. She had a great affection for Severus, but the family baggage that came with him. . .


"No. Within a year of your wedding, you will give him a child, son or daughter, that will eclipse me in his affections. He's my godfather, but he's more of a father to me than anyone else. You should understand, but I refuse to continue this discussion. Out with you," Draco opened the door, threw the hood over Hermione's head and shoved her into the empty corridor. "You know the way."


Draco slammed the door after himself and left for rounds while Hermione picked her way to the dungeons.


To Severus.