The mortifying ordeal of falling in love with your entire secret study group

8th year: Hermione

Chapter Text

"Miss Granger. Thank you for saving my life," Professor Snape said from his position in the hospital bed in St. Mungo's. He was very pale, the look enhanced by the white gown he was wearing with the blue dots; and of course by the colourfully painted walls – St. Mungo's insisted on bright and happy shades to help their patients get better. A little bit of psychological cheating in the healing process. The very yellow sheets may theoretically help with the old professor's mood, but they didn't do his complexion any favours.

"You're very welcome," Hermione said warmly. She wished she had a camera with her. Admittedly, it was hard not to laugh, but she knew her professor wouldn't find it funny at all. "I was only in the right place at the right time. It's all thanks to Blaise and his brewing, you know, that we had an antivenom."

Snape's entire face twitched.

Daphne, on Snape's other side, had her sketchbook open. She'd picked up a thing or two from last year's extracurriculars. Snape in his dress of the blue dots was shaping up to become a masterpiece. It was better than any camera could have captured it.

"Oh, would you look at the time," Daphne beamed, "we'll be late meeting Blaise at the pharmacy. He sends his well-wishes, I'm sure."

Snape closed his eyes and didn't dignify that with an answer. He couldn't very well insult Blaise's runic brewing after it had saved his life.

Hermione thought she saw a Get-Better-Soon card standing next to a vase of red roses, signed by Irma Pince (but it felt impolite to linger on it). Snape was capable of having friends. Probably. Professor McGonagall's favourite biscuits wrapped in red and gold wrapping paper with pretty bows seemed to prove the theory. Snape and McGonagall's 'house rivalry' in the name of the Quidditch cup was a poorly disguised friendship.

They quickly said their goodbyes before their professor felt it necessary to hex them out of his room, and cheerfully linked arms on the way out.

"Are we actually going to meet Blaise?" Hermione asked, "I thought he had to attend this birthday thing of his thrice removed cousin?"

Daphne winced. "Yes. His extended family were all waiting for him to graduate Hogwarts and move to Italy, but now that he's not, they're holding a grudge. They're blackmailing him with his baby pictures to go to as many events as possible this summer."

"Ah," Hermione nodded. Blaise had decided to repeat seventh year with them, thus letting Hogwarts occupy most of his time. While he didn't need the British NEWTs, or any other school certificate, Blaise was only eighteen. They all were. And Hogwarts, with all its magic and hidden corridors and memories, had become a home. Hermione understood that. Anyone who had been in Hogwarts over the year could take their missed OWLs and NEWTs in the summer months; and everyone who failed those exams or hadn't had the chance to study could repeat the school year. With the exemption of the Slytherins bearing a Dark Mark: a condition on their pardon was the attendance of another year of classes. A supervised house arrest, of sorts.

"So," Daphne continued, waving off Blaise's dilemma, "we're just meeting Selene and Maisie for a drink. We deserve a girls' night out, you know. And Selene said she has one of those disks with a story on it, Sense and Sensibilities after one of your fiction books."

Hermione's lips formed an oh. "How are you in contact with her? I haven't even had the chance to meet her yet..."

"I got her an owl last month and she's been sending me fashion magazines." Daphne tugged Hermione out onto the street, into the blinding sun. "She assured me that she would stock a variety of Muggle chocolates and sweets, so I'm doing this for Slytherin-like self serving purposes as well. Hold on to my arm."