"Sit down. Tea?"
"No. Get to the point, Minerva. You know I have no patience for small talk."
McGonagall was the picture of composure. Everyone else looked worn down by the past weeks, but she seemed to keep her facade perfectly intact.
"My dear Severus, as curt as ever. It seems Hermione and Poppy have done a fine job — you're back to your old self."
"Minerva, either get to the point, or you'll see the back of me faster than you can count to three."
"Why so irritable? You have more free time now than you'd probably like."
"Stop commenting on my leisure time. I can manage it perfectly well on my own."
"As you wish."
McGonagall removed her glasses, setting them neatly on her desk. Unfazed by Snape's tone, she leaned back in her chair.
"Hogwarts will reopen in a week. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have missed four months of classes. I want you to tutor them privately in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts until they're caught up."
Snape lowered his head slightly, staring at her with wide eyes and arched brows. Then a short, cold laugh escaped him.
"You must be joking, Minerva. You still haven't grasped it, have you? I hate Potter. And I'll be damned before I saddle myself with him in private lessons. Weasley and the little know-it-all are no better. As far as Potter's concerned, I've done my duty. I hope he can finally look after himself. If that's all, I'll be going."
McGonagall inhaled deeply. She knew this would be a fight.
"I've assigned you Potions. I'll hand out the revised schedules at the staff meeting in a few days."
Snape's eyes narrowed to slits.
"How very gracious of you, Minerva. I don't recall receiving a request to see if I even wished to teach."
"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. Where else would you go? It's mid-year — you won't find another teaching post until September. Hogwarts is your home. Why would you want to leave?"
"Because, perhaps, I finally have a choice. Nothing is as it was, Minerva. That fact seems to have escaped you. For you, maybe, nothing's changed. For me, nothing is the same — not even here."
McGonagall twirled the arms of her glasses between her fingers.
"I'm sorry I assumed you'd want to teach again. But I would strongly recommend it. Hogwarts is all you have left — I wouldn't throw it away so easily."
"How delightful that everyone knows what's best for me. I'm tired of every passing Hogwarts headmaster thinking they can dictate my life. The war is over. I owe nothing to anyone — except myself. I've played puppet for both Voldemort and Dumbledore for twenty years, and I'm done. So find some other fool to whip your Gryffindors into shape."
---
Hermione had been frozen outside McGonagall's office door for several minutes. It was ajar.
---
"I think you should leave now, Severus. You know where to find me if you change your mind."
The door swung open, and Snape nearly bowled Hermione over. He stopped abruptly, glaring down at her.
"Heard what you wanted, Miss Granger? Out of the way," he snapped, brushing past her with a swish of his robes.
"Hermione? Come in," McGonagall called.
Still stunned by Snape's words, Hermione walked in mechanically and sat down.
"Have you decided on the advanced subject you want for your final year?"
It took Hermione a moment to answer.
"Until just now, I was sure I wanted to specialise in Potions."
McGonagall's mouth curved into a smile.
"Don't worry, he'll calm down. Ron and Harry have chosen Defence Against the Dark Arts — both seem intent on becoming Aurors."
"And if Professor Snape doesn't teach Potions, then who—?"
"I've known Severus since his first day here," McGonagall interrupted with calm certainty. "He will teach. Trust me. So — Potions?"
Hermione hesitated, speechless. After a long pause, she finally managed, "Yes."
"Good. Now, the other reason I asked you here — we're planning a reopening celebration this weekend. The students arrive Friday; on Saturday, I want them to have a chance to shed the weight of the past months. I'm counting on you to help organise it."
"No problem," Hermione heard herself say. Only then did it occur to her that McGonagall seemed to have no qualms about directing everyone to her purposes.
A short while later, Hermione left the office, lost in thought and carrying a stack of organisational notes.
---
Lunch did little to lift her mood.
"What's wrong, Hermione? You look like you swallowed a doxy," Ron asked.
"The doxy is a bat. Snape refuses to tutor us," she grumbled.
"That's a good thing!" Ron brightened instantly. "Let him rot in his dungeon."
"I thought he'd changed," Hermione muttered, fiddling with her glass, "but apparently he's found his old self again."
"He hates me, Hermione — that's never going to change," Harry said. "Everything he did for me, for us, was for my mother. Without her, he'd have served Voldemort to the bitter end. Don't forget that."
She knew Harry was right. Her illusions were shattering — but she refused to give up. You couldn't undo twenty years in a week, but hope still clung to her.
Her gaze kept drifting to the staff table, where McGonagall, Slughorn, and Snape ate dessert. Snape sat like a stranger among them, silent. When he rose to leave, Hermione excused herself from her friends and hurried to intercept him.
"She can't help herself," Harry muttered.
"She's a hopeless project lover," Ron sighed, watching her go.
"Professor Snape?" Hermione called, stepping in front of him before he reached the doors.
He stopped, clearly annoyed.
"May I come by your rooms this evening, sir?"
Even as she asked, she cursed her Gryffindor boldness. Wrong day, wrong time — but it had to be today.
"Forget it. And tell McGonagall not to send her students to do her bidding," he snapped, waving her aside.
"It's private. Nothing to do with McGonagall. Please—"
"Leave me alone, Granger. And get out of my way before I hex you into the wall!" he barked.
"Professor McGonagall's right — you are a stubborn old man! Why can't you act like a normal human being for once?" she shot back, her temper finally breaking.
Snape stepped forward, close enough to make her take a breath, his presence towering.
"You have only yourself to blame for being here, pestering me. It was your choice," he hissed, eyes burning.
Hermione's own eyes flashed. "If life — and my presence — disgusts you so much, then brew yourself a potion to end all your suffering. Surely, as the great Potions Master, that wouldn't be a problem!"
Her voice cracked with tears as she turned on her heel and fled down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower, cheeks burning.
.
END OF CHAPTER
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