Hermione Granger
“Thanks, professor.”
“It’a my pleasure, Miss granger.” Minerva replied, smiling as the young woman turned to leave.
“Sir, you’re in your frame.” Hermione said, coming to a stop before Severus, looking up at him.
“Well observed.” He drawled.
Her eyes welled immediately and she swiped at the tears that threatened to make their way down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t save you, sir, I felt terrible just watching you bleed but I didn’t have anything that could have closed your wounds quickly enough, what with the venom and…” she trailed off.
“Are you knowledgeable on dark magical creatures?”
“No, sir, not really.”
“At that time, were you a licensed healer with acute knowledge of curative potions?”
“N-no, sir.”
“You have a bright future ahead of you, don’t trouble yourself with a situation that many qualified and experienced professionals would have failed in. Voldemort intended for me to die and die I did but not without the compassion of yourself and your friends.” He said quietly but firmly.
She nodded sadly but raised her head to speak once more.
“I’m sorry I set fire to your robes, in our first year. I thought you were jinxing Harry’s broom but you weren’t. Thank you for looking out for us.”
“Yes well, the afterlife would be far more tedious if you three were also to be portraits. I couldn’t have my peace disturbed.”
She stifled a giggle.
“Of course not, professor. Thank you regardless.”
With a polite bow, Hermione Granger left.
“She was one of your favourites, wasn’t she, Severus?” Minerva asked, folding her arms as she stood before him.
“Absolutely. The brightest young witch I ever taught, I just wished she’d had the confidence to apply her own mind rather than regurgitating the contents of her textbooks.” He drawled, rolling his eyes.
“You do have a way about you, Severus.” Minerva sighed.
“Did!” He called as she left.