When Two Strike A Deal
Hermione Granger's toes were nearly frozen and her fingers, though shoved in her robes and under her arms, were not far behind. She was thankful that she had mastered wandless magic years earlier because she was loathe to remove her hands from their hiding spots if she needed to use her wand.
"Purgo lebes plene, expello non volo humus," she commanded. All twenty cauldrons in front of her seemed to vibrate for a moment, and then they glowed from within. The sticky grime and leftover ingredients that had caked on the insides lifted out of the cauldrons and then vanished from sight.
"That was a rather efficient bit of spellwork," a low, bored voice droned from behind her.
Without turning around, Hermione smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment. Hmm... That's two this week. What disgusting and all-together offensive task do you have waiting in the wings for me?" With her hands still tucked under her arms she turned to face Professor Snape. He was leaning in the doorway between the potions' classroom and his office, his arms folded in a similar manner, but he didn't look cold in the slightest.
"Nothing all that... sinister," he assured. "Crushing Grumblebumble parts," he answered when she raised her eyebrows in interest.
"Ah. Fourth year antidotes," she said.
He raised an eyebrow himself. "You remembered. I'm touched."
"If you had any idea how many extra flagons of anti-hysteria potion I've had to make for Neville since... I considered becoming an apothecary for a whole year thanks to you." Snape said nothing but the corner of his mouth twitched against his will. "Did you still want me to grade those third year essays, or just the Grumblebumble parts?"
"Just the Grumblebumble parts. It's nearly eight. I'm sure you have plans."
Hermione suppressed another smile. After a year and a half she had never made plans for the same night as one of their after dinner work sessions. "No, sir, I don't have plans. If you want me to stay and finish the essays, I'd be happy to. Ah, under one condition, though," she added.
"Oh? A rare request. I'm intrigued," he drawled.
She ignored his sarcasm. "Let me light a damned fire? You keep it stone cold down here."
"Down here is made of stone," he countered.
She walked along a conversational line that her peers would define as precarious, but that she knew well. "And you are a very powerful wizard with command over such mundane things. So. Light me a fire?" she asked again. Wordlessly he moved aside and a nice warm glow emanated from the office. "You're getting to know me," she said, impressed.
"I'm getting tired of you complaining that I don't keep it warm enough down here."
"You don't." She brushed past him and reveled in the warm office. "If you just lit the damn thing before you left for dinner, it wouldn't be so freezing here when we get back."
"And if you'd just learn to charm your cloak to keep you warmer, then we'd both be comfortable while we worked." He slammed the door behind him and the bottles on the wall shelves rattled. But he always slammed the door like that, and after a few weeks she didn't even flinch anymore. He watched her take off her cloak and place it neatly over the back of the sofa. There were two piles of scrolls lying neatly on his desk and with a beckoning motion she floated the pile on the left on to the floor in front of the fire. He watched her settle herself on the floor by the grate and open the first scroll.
Snape copied her silent summoning spell, only set his pile on the coffee table behind her. He liked it cold, didn't particularly care to sit in front of a roaring fire even with the quintessential cup of cocoa. But for the last eighteen months he had been trying to be polite. So instead, he lit the fire when she asked, didn't complain when she saw to it herself, and charmed his cloak to keep him cool so he could sit on the sofa and still be comfortable while they worked.
She'd started working with him at the beginning of her sixth year. Things hadn't always been so civil between the two of them. Their first night working together he'd nearly reduced her to tears, and two weeks later she'd stormed out of his office leaving her cloak behind in her fury. This he had a house elf return to her later that night, along with a note that read simply, "Sorry." Then he remembered the first time in conversation she'd nudged the envelope a bit too far and yet he did not snarl. It had been a kind of paradigm shift worthy of a celebration, or so she said later that night before she'd left his office.
How they had come to work together had been a kind of odd combination of circumstances that had somehow managed to layer one upon the other. The end of her fifth year had seen her recovering from the wounds she'd received from Dolohov at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. She wasn't in the hospital wing more than a few nights, and had she not already taken her O.W.Ls, Snape thought, she wouldn't have even stayed that long.
Soon after she'd recovered and the school term had come to an end they'd met up again at Grimmauld Place. Well, "met up" was not exactly the phrase an observer of the full course of events would have used. They had literally run into each other in the stairway going down to the kitchen, and had he not knocked her down and caused her cry out and clutch her stomach, he would have kept going without a second glance.
"Fuck," he hissed when he realized what he'd done in his haste. He'd gone to hunt for Dumbledore, who was supposedly meeting Lupin at the house. The frustration and the aggravation of that evening's earlier events at his house in Spinner's End had enveloped him. Narcissa and Bellatrix were hardly out the door before he'd pulled on his cloak and, with near panicked desperation, apparated to Grimmauld Place to speak with the Headmaster. He hadn't even seen Granger there in the darkness of the stairwell.
He'd knelt down next to her at the bottom of the stairs and put his hand behind her head as she leaned against the wall. She whimpered a moment then hissed as a sharp sting coursed across her chest. She'd blinked at him in the dark and looked at him confused. "What're you doing here, Sir?"
He'd wanted to laugh. He'd knocked her down a flight of stairs and probably reopened some of the wounds Dolohov had given her, and all she wanted to know was what he was doing there. "None of your business. Come, Miss Granger, let's have a look at you. What other injuries have you sustained now?" He helped her to stand and he flicked his hand in the general direction of the sconces on the wall. They flared and he looked her up and down. "Your wounds? Have they worsened from the fall?"
Hermione took a moment and mentally checked herself over from head to toe. "No. No," she decided. "I'm all right." She looked down. He was holding her hand. They jerked their arms apart and both took a step away from each other. The house seemed deafeningly silent. "I'm all right," she whispered again. "Um… What…?"
"Am I doing here?" he finished for her. "No matter. Where's Dumbledore?"
"No idea, Sir. He left about twenty minutes ago. He and Professor Lupin were in the drawing room upstairs. I'm afraid Professor Lupin has also gone, just a moment ago," she added. Her hand went to her stomach again, and even in the dim light growing steadier she appeared green.
"You're hurt," he insisted. "Who else is here? Where's Molly?"
"She's returned to the Burrow for some things, and she took Ginny with her. Ron and his brothers are with Mr. Weasely, Sir."
"And you've been left alone?" he snarled.
"Unintentionally, Sir," she insisted, obviously trying to defend the Weaselys. "Professor Dumbledore was already gone, and Professor Lupin got an emergency floo a moment later. Mrs. Weasely is due back within the hour," she added.
Snape smirked sarcastically but held his tongue. "Are you quite certain you're all right, Miss Granger?"
"Absolutely, Sir." Snape nodded briefly and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He started for the stairwell again. "Sir? What did you need the Headmaster for?"
He stopped but did not turn to look back at her. "That is most definitely none of your business, Miss Granger."
"Yes, Sir. It's just…" He stopped again, and before he could tell her off, she continued. "It's just that the Headmaster told Professor Lupin that he would not be back for several weeks. At least, that's the short version."
Snape snapped to attention. "You do realize that it is in no one's best interest for you to repeat what you've overheard spoken between Order members, even if it is related to other Order members? That your reiteration could breach a confidence - "
"Yes, Sir," she interrupted. "It's just that Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that."
"And why, pray tell, would he have done that?"
"I don't know, Sir. But it seemed that he suspected your arrival this evening. That was why Professor Lupin let me stay here while he was gone."
Snape didn't speak for a moment, but then he finally nodded. He was about to say good evening when he remembered she was alone in the house. Even with the house being unplottable and warded he did not think leaving Granger in the state she was in, without back up, was a very good idea. "Still, you should not have been left alone. I'll be in the drawing room until Lupin or the Weasely's return."
"I was just cleaning up from dinner, Sir, but there's a great deal left over. Would you like me to make a plate up for you?"
Snape very nearly laughed at her, but he was too aggravated. "I'm not hungry." His hand was still on the banister and he decided not to hesitate any longer.
A/N: Hermione's spell is a variation of the idea of "Scourgify!" or "Tergeo!" Basically, she's banishing the dirt (to the land of wind and ghosts, much like Mistah Spakuru in that Simpson's episode, lol) I don't think I fouled up the time line too badly. You'll have to read the next few parts and let me know.