"We're almost finished but...if even Professor Vector doesn't know the answer to our last question, I suppose we can just save ourselves the trouble then."

Of course her Slytherin-cunning was mostly just...under-developed. She was too obvious most of the time but she knew how to make a man want to ask questions. Who knew how she was doing it. The right question, involving the right words at the right time.

Luckily, with Granger, it was mostly enough to just look at her and she continued.

"Well, I know you want to ask, so I'll spare you having to do it," she continued to rattle on, still staring at her and her voice having that screechy, bossy quality to it that he remembered well from both the Potion and the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom. "We figured out the wording which the counter-curse should have but it has to be chanted in order to be working correctly. And we don't know what chant, naturally. So I remembered that Professor Vector mentioned chants in Sixth Year and Draco remembered too and we went to ask her but she didn't know either. I mean, we didn't tell her what we were researching, only that we were researching and we weren't specifically telling her which counter-curse-chant we're looking for. So probably if we had made it more specific, she could have told us but she didn't seem like a super-expert, if you know what I mean..."

"Do you ever take a breath?" he asked, sneering at her and had to keep his grin inside when she took a deep breath and glared at him, her hair very tidy this morning in a bun at the back of her head apart from that small portion which fell almost over her eye and covered her right ear, which was, at that moment, being flipped past her shoulder

"Well, so yes. We can stop looking for answers to that chant-problem if you don't want it back," she shrugged again and whether he wanted to or not, it sent his mind working furiously. It circled around the question whether he wanted it back — or not.

Because, well, he simply hated wasted work. He had wasted work, hours upon hours, too often in his life. And as much as he didn't care about Granger, or Draco (who had too much time on his hands as it was, it seemed), he didn't want them to waste work, time, hours, energy. It wasn't necessary, if — and only if — he didn't want it back.

Magic.

Magic. Once he had used it to define himself. He had been weird at his primary school because of magic. His mother had been weird because of her magic, his father had considered himself normal because of his non-magic. He had been one of the others, because of his magic. He hadn't fit into Spinner's End, he had had no friends, because of his magic — until Lily came along, who also had magic. Magic had been him. He had waved his wand, things had happened — and if it was only red sparks shooting from the tip of it — he took a stirrer in hand and a few ingredients and — he had, in his hand, a weapon, or a cure. He had been a spy — because of his magic and he had been a Death Eater, only because of his magic. He had been a teacher for a magical subject. He had been Headmaster, because he had magic.

After that, he wasn't anyone. He was just...nothing. Or he had returned to his weirdness. Being Mrs Callaghan's strange neighbour. The poor bloke who had no idea how supermarkets worked these days. The odd mature student.

He liked going to University. He wasn't sure whether he liked being the odd one out — again. Not that it had ever been different. The black uniform he had made himself wear for most of his adult life, it had set him apart. The mark on his arm had done the rest.

Severus knew he wouldn't fit into any kind of society anymore — and he wasn't even sure which chances there were of ever being any kind of close to any kind of society. Whether it was simpler to try to be a Muggle or to become a Wizard again. He didn't know. He just didn't know but he did know that...

He liked a challenge. And if the book with the curse had gone through various hands at the Ministry, if it existed openly, if people had the chance to read it, he wouldn't remain the only person to be put under that curse. If there was a counter-curse which worked without doubt, the curse in itself would become harmless.

He wanted to close his eyes for a second, wanted to think alone for a moment, wanted to make a decision which reached further than the one he had already made, but she looked at him still. Would she understand if he said that he wanted them to find a counter-curse but not for himself?

He took a deep, silent breath and looked back at her. "Continue working on it," he said steadily. "You might want to check a book called 'Medieval Jinxes' by Helmand Dent. It has a chapter about chants," he said quietly, then pointed at the door. "I have things to do."

Hermione only picked at her food and she knew that Molly Weasley eyed her worriedly. She couldn't get that conversation out of her head. Did that mean that he wanted his magic back? Did it mean that he wanted them continue working and why had he looked at her like that when she had spoken to him? Was he...in any way interested in what she had to say? Did he respect her more now? Less?

Her mind was whirring and she had hoped — in vain — that it wouldn't be noticeable. When had all the people around her become so perceptive? Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Ron and Harry, all of them looked at her as if something was wrong. Even Ginny looked that way. Even George. All of them.

But oh she would just...ignore Snape for a while. Push him from her head and push the way he had looked like and looked at her out of her head. For the time being. She would. Wouldn't email him, would only wait.

He obviously knew something and if she judged his character correctly, it would be him email her first in any case. She had presented him with a challenge and he would meet it. He would want to help. Of course — he would want to help.

In the middle of pudding, a self-satisfied grin spread over her face and she didn't bother to hide it. Let the others there wonder what had got into her.

68. Conventional Implicature

In contrast to all the conversational implicatures discussed so far, conventional implicatures are not based on the cooperative principle or the maxims. They don't have to occur in conversation, and they don't depend on special contexts for their interpretations. Not unlike lexical presuppositions, conventional implicatures are associated with special words and result in additional conveyed meanings when those words are used. The English conjunction 'but' is one of those words. The interpretation of any utterance of the type p but q will be based on the conjunction p & q plus an implicature of 'contrast' between the information in p and the information in q. In [1], the fact that 'Mary suggested black' (=p) is contrasted, via the conventional implicature of 'but', with my choosing white (=q)

[1]

a. Mary suggested black, but I chose white.

b. p & q (p is in contrast to q)

(Yule, 1996)

As Hermione, unbeknownst to him, sat at the Burrow, trying to justify the grin on her face, Severus had folded himself into Eleanor's car, had filled the tank and was on his way to see his old — friend — Lucius.

He suspected, strongly, that the woman he was seeing was Deveney and as much as he never wanted to run into her again, she did not deserve to be a mere incubator for a Malfoy. Eleanor had, of course, looked at him suspiciously when he had asked for her car but grudgingly, had handed him the keys and without asking, had sent him on his way. But he would think about getting, maybe a car of his own.

Or maybe, that was one of the...advantages he would have if, and only if, he decided he wanted to have his magic back. Apparition was a marvellous thing after all. Focusing, picturing the destination before the inner eye and within the blink of an eye, one was where one wanted to be. Well, he had to grin to himself just as he was speeding down the M6, if one was determined enough and if one had the capacity to keep all one's body hair, and all of one's limbs. She had looked a little ill when she had lost her eyelashes. And she had looked just as shocked when she had thought that she had, once more, left something behind just because he had laughed.

Maybe he shouldn't have laughed at all but it had been...it just had to happen. He had wanted to laugh. It had felt surprisingly — good — to laugh. Hadn't laughed like that in years. Or maybe — ever. And she had witnessed that. If it hadn't been so — funny — to see her almost panicking that she had, once more, messed up her apparition. Not that he thought she was that incompetent, really, but she seemed to feel not competent enough when it came to apparating and with his single comment and with her probably being unfocused, she had made mistakes. Lots of mistakes. First, she had landed that he landed on her — then she had half landed on him, then she left her eyelashes behind and then she was afraid of leaving something else behind.

One needed to believe in one's own apparition in order to complete it successfully. One had to have faith in oneself — and why should she lack that?

He groaned to himself — he was thinking about her again and he didn't even know why.

"Hermione?" Mrs Weasley took hold of her arm and dragged her, not too gently, into the kitchen of the Burrow. "Help me with the dishes, will you?"

She nodded dumbly and swallow around the lump of dread that had gathered in her throat. The last time she had really talked to Mrs Weasley...the woman had shouted at her for having an affair, or a relationship, or whatnot, with Harry. And now that woman was about to corner her and probably ask her about that grin which had spread on her face. She couldn't help it, really, but she had realised that Snape would help and that she wouldn't have to fumble for an excuse to see him again.

Wait...see him again?

She groaned inwardly. It made absolutely no sense to lie to herself.

So, yes, she did want to see him again. And soon. But because he was interesting and because he could help with the counter-curse and not because he had kind of resembled a...human being. Well, a nice human being. Interesting and fasci...ah no. No. Bad. Focus on Mrs Weasley. Pull all her strength together to make sure the matriarch couldn't poke the wrong places. Stick her nose into things that were none of her business and on instinct, and probably partly, because she didn't truly trust Molly Weasley, she shoved Snape and Head-Severus and working on the counter-curse and all that had to do with either of those things, behind thick, impenetrable walls. And only then, did Hermione notice how many of her thoughts circled around Snape. How much she had truly thought about him since leaving him and that she did not truly compare the formerly existing Head-Severus with the real Snape. How she had noticed that Snape was a much more interesting and fascina... person than Head-Severus had been.

All pushed behind walls now as she smiled as sweetly as she could at Mrs Weasley.

"Are you quite alright, dear?" the older woman asked, and Hermione couldn't help but hear the honest concern lacing her voice. That was just typically Mrs Weasley — completely forgetting that Hermione had basically been persona non grata, and then suddenly, she was back in the bosom of the family and Mrs Weasley mollycoddled her (pun, yes, intended, she grimaced ever so slightly).

"Of course I am," she smiled a little brighter, hiding the grimace behind it. "I just have a lot of work to do for University."

"Muggle University, Ron and Harry said?"

She nodded eagerly.

"And what are you doing there?" asked Mrs Weasley, waving her wand about and watching Hermione while the dishes washed themselves.

"Maths, Mrs Weasley," she said hesitantly. "Didn't the boys tell you?"

"Yes, yes, they said something. But it can't be too difficult. I would have thought you'd do something worthwhile, maybe going for a spot at the Ministry? Or maybe a healer? You're not getting any younger and with Muggle-maths...it's just plus and minus and things, isn't it?"

Hermione almost — almost — couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had to remind herself that Mrs Weasley probably didn't mean any harm, she didn't want to hurt her but this was just...stupid waffle. It was stupid and it was uninformed and it just showed that wizards, in general (and probably not all wizards), had absolutely no regard for any kind of Muggle culture and for Muggle science and Hermione was determined to revolutionise the Wizarding World. With Muggle maths. She would ignore most of the Arithmancy she had learned — and she would use Mathematics only. Mathematics in potions, mathematics in transfiguration, mathematics in charms. She would use maths. And she would show those arrogant...well. For now, she had absolutely no idea how she was going to show it to them. But she would. Eventually. Soon. As soon as she could.

Spot at the Ministry? Healer? After everything the Ministry had done? After the stupid decisions the wizards in higher positions had made? After dosing all those people with Veritaserum and not finding Andromeda Tonks? Working for them?

Over. Her. Dead. Body.

"No," she said sharply. "I don't want to work for the Ministry or as a healer. And of course it's plus and minus and things. But those plusses and minusses and things rule the world."

"But..."

"And no, I'm not getting any younger, nobody is, by the way, but if you're insinuating what I think you're insinuating, then, with all due respect, I'm twenty. I'm not by any means old yet. And believe it or not, there are males at Uni. More than females, actually," she grinned. Snape must have — somehow — rubbed off on her. She would have never dared to talk to Mrs Weasley like that before — well, if angered, yes. But like this? Just because she did what she did best and tried to marry people off? Usually she would have probably just nodded. Mrs Weasley looked, well, dumbstruck and Hermione went in for the kill. She didn't owe this woman anything. She was grateful for the meal she had just got but she had thanked her. Twice. And there was absolutely not connection between them. She was only the ex-girlfriend of her son and a friend of her son. "And even if I wanted to get married now, I'd probably take a good look around Uni and not at the Ministry or St Mungo's."

She could see the wheels turning in Mrs Weasley's mind before she smiled sugary sweet. "I didn't mean that, Hermione. Of course you can find your own husband even if Charlie...but I'm just thinking that you're wasting your talent doing this Muggle-Maths. You have such great talents and I think you're wasting them. You could do so much good and you're going to a Muggle University when the Wizarding World needs young, bright heads like yours. Besides, you know very well that you will work there and not with Muggles and..."