Professor

{1}

{1~Coercion}

In a small café, just down the street from her flat, Hermione sat at a white table. The surface was cool under her arms, smooth and marbled. Her thin sleeves, exposed by the removal of her coat, did not keep the cool of the table from her forearms. It seeped into her soft skin, the only warmth coming from the mug in between her laced fingers. They were clutching the cream-colored ceramic as if that was the only warmth she would ever get. Her neck was wrapped in a scarf, striped like one from her years at Hogwarts, but not of Gryffindor colors. It was black and grey, matching the elegant ministry uniform she had not changed from yet. Her coat was behind her, and Hermione had to desperately clutch to her mug to keep from shoving it onto her shoulders inappropriately.  This was a business meeting after all.

She lifted the mug, staring into the cup of liquid, light brown as the coffee should be. It was swirled delicately, the steam coming off of it still visible. It lifted itself into the air in a swirl, taking a twist and turn mid-way to the ceiling. It dissolved, though, just past her curls that were restricted into a tight up-do created only by magic. Hermione's lips touched the rim of the ceramic and she sipped in her coffee, enjoying the warmth the rest of her body was finally receiving.

But the moment the door opened to the small café and the door nearly slammed shut, the breeze hit her again and she shivered, closing her eyes.

"Miss Granger."

That voice.

It could have solely warmed her from all of the Arctic were she to hear it there. But she remembered quickly this was business, and she was no longer alone to cherish her coffee. No, black shoes could be seen out of the corner of her then open eyes, leading up to completely black attire.

"Professor Snape."

Hermione stood and held her hand out, accepting the man's proffered hand.

"Thank you, again, for meeting me Miss Granger. Both Minerva and I are in your debt may you be convinced."

Hermione let out a shaky breath and sat back down, her heart hammering in her chest.

It was not the first time her professor had offered her the position of McGonagall's, but it certainly never seemed like the last. He - by suggestion of Minerva herself - had been pining for her to accept so as to not have to scrounge for a replacement to the elder witch. She wanted to retire, and who better to retire her position as Head of Gryffindor House to than the princess herself?

"I still happen to not be convinced, sir," Hermione muttered, looking back into her mug so as to not meet the eyes of the Potion's Master. It was not long since she'd seen him last, but every expanse between meetings felt like forever!

"What can I do to convince you, Miss Granger? Surely you understand that you are of sublime capability to teach."

He sounded as though she did not know such a thing. But, Hermione knew she could teach. Could. That was the operative word in the discussion. What would teaching give to her that her job at the ministry did not? Except being closer to Snape than she was in Mistreatment of Magical Creatures. That was by far a different planet in how close she was. Hermione wanted to be close to him, though. Yet her job was fulfilling. Seeing Harry and Ron, her still very good friends, nearly every day was comforting. She felt as though she made a difference in cases and in the way people treated magical creatures. Moreover she hoped she did, but she certainly didn't see anyone killing off any hippogriffs lately.

"Yes, but I am changing things at the ministry, Professor. Teaching I will simply be-"

"Changing the lives of thousands of children," Snape interrupted, his voice molding over hers with little problem.