MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

Fumes

It was the talk of the school. When the newspapers came down that morning, dropping into the hands of every student present, whether they were a subscriber of the Daily Prophet or not, it had caught very fast attention, like fire to dry kindling. The word spread, whispers turned outward chatter echoing through every hall, to every crevice and crack. Atlas couldn't get away from it, Umbridge's holier-than-thou face, her nose turned up in gross self-importance, plastered on the Daily Prophet's front cover, news of her promotion, her appointment as High-Inquisitor plaguing every page of that week's Prophet.

Even now, sitting in Potions, she couldn't get away from it. Umbridge was supposed to be observing classes but Snape had, evidently, not been on her top priority list and that left room for the students to chatter as much as they liked. Or rather, as much as Snape would allow. And by the looks of things, he found some savage enjoyment in seeing Atlas uncomfortable and often smiled in her direction. Maliciously, of course, Snape wouldn't be caught dead with a genuinely happy smile on his face. Idly, Atlas wondered if the man was born scowling.

Still, Atlas persevered, managing to brew a perfect solution to the poison Snape had prescribed them, much to his dismay. But it was hard, annoying in a way and a part of her wanted to grab her things and ditch the class, maybe she'd pour some acid over her hand as an excuse to see Poppy. She hadn't seen the woman once since coming back and though that was, essentially, a good thing, Atlas did miss the woman, she was basically her other godmother by all accounts.

Instead, she remained silent, acid remaining corked as she sat hunched over her cauldron until the end of the class where Snape had begun idly giving out their marked moonstone essay's, something Atlas had done the day she'd been given it. She waited quietly, tucking away her books and watching for the marked parchment in her peripheral while trying to ignore the idle whispers of Umbridge's promotion.

She frowned when Snape returned to the front, all of the marked homework returned to its owner. Well, all of it except Atlas's. She looked around, wondering if she had just knocked it on the floor in her stupor, or if Snape had placed it in an annoyingly hidden spot just to trouble her but no, it was nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, she raised her hand, Snape's eyes immediately sweeping over to her where he nodded for her to speak.

"Professor, you haven't given me my homework back," she said.

"That's because I'm going to be using it as an example for my future lessons," Snape droned and a few of the Slytherins across the room snickered, pointing at the dismayed look on Atlas's face. She couldn't have done that bad, could she?

"Yeah, he's probably going to use it as an example of what a Troll looks like," Draco smirked and Atlas sighed, frowning as she rubbed between her brows. She was supposed to be good at Potions.

"Actually, Mr Malfoy, I'll be using it as an example of what an 'O' level essay looks like, miraculous as it seems, Miss Black has gotten the highest mark in the class," Snape sneered and the look of disdain on his face and reluctant praise was enough to chase away even the darkest clouds hanging over Atlas's head, "and suffice it to say, Mr Malfoy, you are in no position to make fun of another's grade."

A few laughs echoed from the Gryffindor's side of the dungeon.

"In actual fact, the general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination." The room went silent, all joy dissipating in an instant, "I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a 'D'. Dismissed."

Atlas stood and slung her bag over her shoulder, the bandage of her right hand catching on the sleeve of her robe, she frowned and tightened the fabric, flexing her fist to check its security before moving to leave the classroom. However, a firm figure stood in her path and Atlas found herself staring directly into eyes of amber, kissed by the light of the afternoon through the tinted dungeon windows. Atlas blinked once and then once again, shaking herself from her stupor and sudden entrapment. She hadn't expected Hermione to be waiting for her.