McGonagall’s mouth fell open at the use of Snape’s first name, and hung there for a long moment until she closed it with a snap. She stared at Hermione, and then at Severus, and then back again. Calculating. Trying to measure the behaviour she had seen in public against the way Hermione was acting now. Comparing the demure, frightened little shadow to the calm, bloodied woman in front of her. This, at least, felt truer, and Severus knew that was by design. A facade. Minerva wanted to see a collected, thoughtful student, the version of Hermione she was most familiar with, and so that was what his wife was delivering.