Witch Hunt

12

Racing to the door before anyone else could answer, Hermione opened it quickly, coming face to face with the Potions' Master, his hand lifted to knock with one knuckle.

She giggled breathlessly, her cheeks rosying at the sight of him as she recalled his last letter. It had, by far, been the most forward.

Sensing her preoccupation, he smirked, watching her click shut the door quietly. His finger came down to trace her jaw delicately, the simplest of touches, before offering her his hand. "Hello, Hermione," he said softly.

Trying her best not to visibly swoon, the witch slid her hand into his, the familiar pull of apparition yanking her from her belly button.

Landing before the gates of the castle, she let out a long breath. She had wanted to come back for some time, though the thought of returning to Hogwarts left her antsy. There were so many bad memories here. After the war, she was not certain she could ever be at peace there again.

The man in black must have picked up on her apprehension because his fingers tightened around hers for a brief moment. He tugged on her hand gently, tucking her fingers into the crook of his elbow, and led her toward the school. He kept a firm grip on her hand as it rested against his bicep, her fingers curling into the coarse black wool of his coat.

She would not run again.

The great oak doors opened before them, allowing them entry. The smell of the evening feast tickled their noses, the warm light of the floating candles and the torches up on the walls lighting their way through the corridor as Snape led her toward the staircase to the dungeons. A familiar tartan clad figure awaited them at the top of the stairs.

A large smile spread on the young witch's face, her hand tightening against Snape's arm. The man looked down at his future bride, concerned. The corner of his lips lifted at the sight of her grin, releasing her hand so that she may go forward quicker.

Hermione quickened her pace, straight into the older witch's open arms. "Professor!" She exclaimed breathlessly, wrapping her arms tightly around her.

McGonagall nearly stumbled, rapidly regaining her balance and hugging her best student. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Miss Granger," she replied. Leaning away, she turned to the Potions' Master. "Professor Snape, you will do well to remember our agreement regarding young Miss Granger."

Her tone was stiff and unyielding. There had been much trust lost between the two, Hermione could see it clearly now. She saw a flicker of sadness pass through the man's eyes, though he hid it well. He bowed his head politely, reaching out for Hermione. "Of course, Headmistress," he responded curtly. "Come along, little bird. I will show you to my chambers."

The former Gryffindor stepped away from her head of house and looped her arm through Snape's, her hand coming to rest on his bicep again. The man smirked upon seeing the confusion in the older witch's face. He turned his attention to the young woman, his hand trailing along her chin for a moment, tricky fingers dancing along her jaw in a way that made her thoughts scatter. "Minerva has generously agreed to allow you to stay with me at Hogwarts in exchange for services toward the school. You may decide where you offer such services." He explained. "I had thought you might like to assist me in my classroom. Organising the stores, helping correct assignments, the like."

Hermione nodded, a little too quickly, for he had not even finished speaking. "Yes, sir. I would quite like that." She blushed again, cursing her eagerness. "I've always been partial to Potions."

The man caught her eyes, his thumb brushing her lower lip idly. "I know," he whispered, watching her shiver. His eyes lifted to look at the Headmistress, wickedness gleamed there as he stood straight, leading the curly haired witch down the stairs.