A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 3: Love and Honor

Chapter 7: Quidditch

At breakfast, Snape had raised an eyebrow at her, which she took to mean, "Well, did you get my note?" She nodded a curt reply, and then focused her attention on Professor Sprout, who was deep in discussion with Madam Pomfrey over that weekend's Quidditch match. Apparently, the Gryffindors had found another terrific seeker, and stood a good chance of winning the cup this year.

Remus was left sitting between two people who were working very hard to pay no attention to each other. He ate his breakfast quietly, smiling to himself.

She opened the door to the classroom without knocking. He was at the front, writing ingredients for his first class on the blackboard. He turned to greet her, but when he saw the look on her face, his own expression hardened and he said, "Professor Granger, thank you for coming. I have a favor to ask, and though I wouldn't bother you otherwise, it does regard our mutual project."

"What do you need from me?" she asked coldly.

His chin raised a fraction and his jaw set. "I am going to be away from the school Sunday evening--perhaps all night. We had planned to begin the next practical trial tomorrow afternoon on our free period, to run over the weekend. I need to know if you can monitor the potion, or if I need to postpone the trial until next week."

"Sunday…but that's Halloween," she said, her surprise winning out over her anger. Snape wouldn't leave for Halloween unless it was important; there would be too many students getting into too much mischief, and he'd be needed. He was probably looking forward to it.

"I believe I mentioned that it was a matter of some importance, Miss Granger?" Snape scowled.

Angry again, but also worried, Hermione thought aloud, "If it's important, then it must also be dangerous. What…"

Snape cut off her question. "Miss Granger, the trial? Should I begin or not?"

"Yes, that will be fine. I am certainly capable of monitoring a potion while you're gone." She turned to leave.

"Miss Granger, wait. Please."

It was the "please" that made her stop. When she turned to look at him, he said, "This is not how I intended for this meeting to go. I am sorry for my behavior yesterday, and for my reaction now. You have every right to be angry with me. It was a long night, and it promises to be an even longer weekend." He paused, but she didn't respond. "I am sorry."

Hermione's brow was still furrowed. "I just want to help. You know that."

"You can't help me. Not in the way you mean. You know that," he replied.

"And I had every right, as you put it, to be angry about Mr. Prichard," she countered, as if she hadn't heard him. "There are times that I don't want your help, either." He nodded in response.

She turned again, but when she got to the door, she said softly, "You're forgiven."

Hermione was still angry with him, and frustrated. Even if he wouldn't let her help, she wished that he would confide in her, at least after the fact, and even if he had to keep some of the details secret.

She arrived the next day in time to help him start the trial. Working together was always comfortable now, and whatever tensions cropped up during the week, Friday afternoons at the worktable smoothed them out.

But she still had to bite her tongue to keep herself from asking him any questions.

Afterwards, he asked her if she would like some tea, and she accepted. They sat in his office, and she found herself thinking back to all the other times they'd sat just like this, in exactly these places.

"Miss Granger?"

She came back to the present. "I'm sorry…I was just thinking about how many times we've sat in this office together."

He smiled. "I believe that you hold the record for highest number of visits." She laughed.

"I was asking if you were going to the Quidditch match tomorrow," he explained. "I assume you are, since your house is playing."

"Yes, I'll be there. Are you going? Or will…" she trailed off, dangerously close to a question.

"Actually, yes, I will. I need the distraction. And I do so enjoy the way students stop cheering when I glare at them." The thing was, she knew he wasn't joking. At least, not completely.

After a moment, she said, "Ok, you can yell at me if you want, but I have to ask one question." He raised an eyebrow, but she persisted. "No details, just…you said you might be gone overnight. Are you going far?"

He shifted in his seat, looking unhappy, but he answered. "Not far."

She pressed her luck. "When should we worry that you're not home yet?"

An irritated sigh. "I would say that if I'm not in class on Monday, you should worry."

"Fine," she agreed.

Saturday dawned bright and clear, and the Great Hall was noisy with excited Quidditch fans. Hermione had decided to wear her Gryffindor tie with her black sweater and skirt (boots now included, and not only because they were warm), earning a smile from McGonagall and a scowl from Snape.

Even the professors could talk of nothing but the match. Remus looked at her as the argument between Flitwick and Hooch concerning Ravenclaw's chances grew louder. "They're as bad as the kids," he said, and she smiled at him, noticing Snape roll his eyes.

Hermione taunted Snape as they made their way down to the pitch. "I don't know why you bother. Surely glaring at students can't make up for your obvious distaste for the whole undertaking."

"Hmm. It seems that you will enjoy the event enough for the both of us," he said dryly, noting her muffler in gold and crimson stripes.

Snape couldn't help noticing the whispers between Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey as he and Hermione entered the faculty box together. Nor could he ignore them when Hagrid arrived and, taking a seat on the other side of Hermione, forced all of them to sit closer together than Snape thought he would be able to tolerate. Madam Pomfrey had actually giggled a little as they shifted down to make room.

Then again…the feel of Hermione's sleeve against his, the…electricity that ran through his body when she put a hand on his arm as she turned behind them to comment to Professor Lupin after a Gryffindor goal…yes, he could grow to like this silly game. He wondered if he could find a Slytherin scarf before their match against Gryffindor. She would probably find that amusing.

As it was, he enjoyed the match more than any he could remember. It helped that Harry Potter was no longer playing. Hagrid's bellowing when Gryffindor won caused him a moment of doubt, but when she took his arm in the midst of her victory celebration and smiled up at him ("I told you we'd win," she beamed) before releasing him to hug McGonagall, he felt that all was right with the world.

A/N: "God's in his heaven-- / All's right with the world!" comes from Robert Browning's play, Pippa Passes. The line is ironic, so I thought Snape could safely paraphrase it. ;)

On to Chapter 8