Survivor

Chapter 19 - Order of Merlin (First Class)

I wrote this chapter 2 years ago and it's been sitting in my drafts. Due to some recent action on this story, and some very lovely comments,  I'm beginning to feel inspired to continue it. Perhaps it may be completed after all. H x

It was dark outside, the street lights penetrating the void like the beam from a lighthouse. There were cats fighting somewhere, and the occasional movement from the alley way that spoke of illicit activities. Hermione sat in fire and candlelit warmth, once again researching for her defense case. She had a thick woolen blanket pulled up to her neck. Severus, sat in his armchair by the fire. His cheeks were flushed a little from his proximity to the heat. He appeared to be writing a letter? Hermione didn't pry. She was far too wrapped up in her own anxiety about the following day. The honors ceremony at the Ministry, she swallowed thickly. She was to attend alone. 

Hermione gnawed on her lip, paying absolutely no attention to the thick, dusty book that sat on her lap. She had probably read the same sentence at least a dozen times, and she still had no idea what it said. She was so immersed in her own notions, that Hermione didn't notice that Severus had been watching her intently for the last 3 minutes. She proceeded to read the same line on her page, again.

Severus, whose hair was hanging lifelessly in front of his eyes, discarded his own book and sat next to Hermione, finally drawing her attention. He used his thumb to pull Hermione's bottom lip from the grip of her teeth. Severus kissed her gently. 

"If you keep chewing on your lip, I shall have nothing left to kiss." He said, in his teaching voice, giving Hermione a stern a look which would have made a first year quiver. 

She smiled and blushed. "Sorry." 

_______

The ceremonial chambers, in the Ministry of Magic was a cold room, with shiny stone floors and magnificent high ceilings. In other words, there was nothing welcoming about it. Even the benches, were made of oak and reminded Hermione of Church pews. They looked onto an altar of sorts, which had a speakers podium and large table, displaying all of the medals which were to be distributed today.

Reporters had followed Hermione from the moment she had flooed into the atrium. They shouted at her, and tripped over their own feet as they fought to keep up with the rest of the swarm. There were several audio recorders and camera's thrust into her face, meaning that most of the images gained were of Hermione scowling. She fought the urge to swear at them. She wore a high-necked A-line dress in burgundy, which fell just above her knees (given to her by Narcissa) and modest nude heel which clacked on the floor as she walked. Her hair was thick with Sleekeazy potion and was pulled into a tight pony tail. 

"Can you tell us about Severus Snape, Hermione?" 

"Are you together?" 

"Why don't you love Ron Weasley?" 

"How do you feel about the Malfoy's going on trial? Do you think they deserve Azkaban?" 

"Were you and Snape together when you were his student?" 

"Why is Snape not in attendance?" 

She was just reaching the entrance to The Ceremonial Chamber when Hermione decided her self control had reached its limit. She whirled around and pointed her wand at the greasy entourage that was following her. Each of them stopped suddenly, as though she had stunned them. The occupants of the room, beyond the doors, had also silenced when they had heard the commotion. They peeked through the door way, not in the least bit ashamed of themselves.

"You will ask no further questions, regarding myself or Severus Snape. I have no interest in commenting on the Malfoy's nor feeding any trivial conspiracy theories regarding my love life." Hermione stood straight and commanded the presence of the room. "I am not a story that you can run, I am not a gossip column that you can sell, I am a person. I would kindly appreciate it if you would all make yourselves scarce before I hex each and everyone of you into the next bloody century."