Of Silver Cauldron and Hands of Gold
It had to be me! Hermione thought angrily. And everybody knows it. Even Malfoy does. Even him! He just can't get over his stupid favouring. And "justice" is probably a vulgarism for him…
He in this case meant Severus Snape, the infamous Potion Master. And the thing that he had done to Hermione this time was that he didn't send her to The Silver Cauldron competition, where the very best Potion students from all parts of the world were delegated. A victor of the competition won the aforementioned silver cauldron of great qualities. The place she thought that belonged to her, took…
„Achtung, Achtung, Der Muddelschmeiden! " Draco Malfoy exclaimed with a fake German accent when they had crashed to each other in a corridor. The competition took place in Berlin.
Hermione was overwhelmed by a growing anger. So now the Ferret Guy had one more reason to mock her. When they collided (and she was sure it was Malfoy's fault), the books she carried fell on the floor. She yelled at the author of her misery:
"You can speak German in a pig's ass! And I'd better not talk about Potio-"
"I take five points from Gryffindor for shouting in the corridors," said a cold voice behind her.
She turned around. Of course it wasn't anyone than Mr. Overgrown Bat himself. To her surprise he was handing her her books.
Stunned she mumbled the words of thanks. Her thoughts still dwelled upon the German competition. Draco Malfoy certainly wasn't bad in potions, well maybe that in some things he even managed to match her, but she was still far better than him anyway. The Silver Cauldron just wasn't his category. And Snape had to know it…
"We must talk about that," she said firmly.
"About what? That I handed you your books?"
Hermiona opened her mouth and then shut it again without a single word. She was finally hit by realisation. What, he handed me my books! But…
"N-no, I…I just…I just wanted to…" With a growing horror she realised that while he was piercing her with that unnerving look of his, she wasn't able to make a meaningful sentence.
He apparently noticed it too.
"I don't plan to waste my time here with you now. If you are able to assemble at least one continual sentence, which would explain me what in fact you want from me, until this evening, I'll be expecting you in my office, let's say around eight."
And with that he was gone.
Hermiona mentally cursed herself. What I got myself into again? If I don't go to him, I'll look like a coward and he will surely find an opportunity to mock me in front of everyone. But if I do…I fail to understand why I said it to him at the first place. I tried to talk to him in the class, but it was pointless. Trying to persuade him about something is like talking to the deaf ears…
"What an idiot am I!" she exclaimed angrily and with all her strength kicked the armour in front of her.
"Well you have admitted it at last, Granger," said an unmistakable bleating voice of Pansy Parkinson, followed by an obedient giggling of her mares (1).
Hermiona gave Pansy her most disgusted look, because with what else would you value her garish pink miniskirt in combination with shoes with seven-centimetres platforms and huge circles in the ears in the same colour, complemented by a tight light-blue jacket with pink New York writing.
"Better don't neigh too much or they'll carve you into salami," she replied and went to face the rest of that goddamn day.
…
Hermione took a deep breath and knocked. When she didn't hear any answer, she toyed with an idea to run away as quick as possible. Finally she gathered her courage and stepped in.
Severus Snape was there, much to her disappointment. He was leaning at some papers but raised his head after hearing her. His eyes narrowed.
"That's you," he said sourly.
Hermione felt hint of an irrational fear, but it was slowly replaced by anger. How could he talk to her as she was some kind of bothersome insect! After all that was him who wanted her to come here.
Shi didn't wait for invitation and took a seat in a chair against his desk. He didn't say anything and just raised his eyebrows lightly.
Save your tics for someone else, I'm tired of being polite, Hermione thought and started:
"I want to talk with you about The Silver Cauldron. You really do think that it's appropriate to send there Malfoy? Look, I understand that he's from your college and therefore-"
"You don't understand anything," he coldly interrupted her.
"I've already expressed my opinion at the class and trust me or not, I didn't change it at all during those few hours."
When Snape saw her having difficulties in suppressing her rage he smirked.
"You'd better calm down. Maybe you should try to count to ten: Ein, zwei, drei…"
That was the last straw.
I've had enough of this! thought Hermione. She unwillingly rose from her chair and clutched her fists.
"Could you finally tell me what the hell I have done to you? All those years I was just following every damned instruction of yours. I can't remember making a single mistake in your classes. And my reward! The only think I heard from you was that I'm insufferable know-it-all! I didn't know it was such crime, to learn for your classes. Just tell me, what else I should do!"
Though she was just angry at him at beginning, in the end a sudden hint of desperation appeared in her voice.
Severus Snape was blankly staring at her. He didn't move a single muscle of his face; he didn't even bother to raise an eyebrow. Then he lightly inclined his head.
"Relax," he said calmly, "you've got a stiff neck…"
He rose, stood behind the back of her chair and then he did something what she hadn't been expecting at all, from him of all people. He put his hands on her shoulders and started to massage her cervical spine.
An unbelieving gasp escaped from Hermione, but Snape didn't say anything, just continued with massaging her neck muscles with his long skilful fingers.
And it really worked. When Hermione got used to this odd situation (or is it normal when somebody who you think he hates you starts to massage you?) she relaxed and after a moment her neck started to feel the same.
"It might often end like this when you're such a bookworm," purred Snape silkily. Hemrione nodded with closed eyes. But the moment after her eyes opened and widened in astonishment when he continued:
"Mandrake and Its Utilisation, Magical Drafts and Potions, Take a Dragon's Heart… I must say that I most certainly agree with your literary taste."
"Um…thank you," she managed to say in response. He didn't only pick up my books; he even looked at them AND remembered which ones they were!
Why did she have that feeling that something was not all right?
She forgot it all the very next moment. It was so easy to shake off all her thought and fully devote herself to the touch of his long fingers…she would have lied if she had said it was unpleasant.
Then Snape pulled away his hands and headed back to his desk.
"Wow, I would need this for all my back," escaped her before she could stop herself. She blushed and covered her mouth with her hands, but it was already too late.
Snape slowly turned to her. Something like a shadow of smile appeared on his lips.
"I don't have any problems with that."
Hermione was in shock again.
"R-really?"
"Of course. If your back hurts, I'm at your service right now. Well of course not here, we would go to Infirmary because there's special massage deck there," he explained matter-of-factly.
Hermione firmly promised herself that she would not be surprised by anything. Snape acted really weird; but he didn't yell and mock her at least. She did have problems with her back lately but she didn't want to disturb Mme. Pomfrey who had had enough worries with a severe flu epidemic which struck Hogwarts at the beginning of this week.
"All right then," she said and followed him out of the room.
Truth to be told, she really liked the idea of Snape massaging her back. It was even exciting …she finally admitted to herself that it wasn't just fear what his unnerving glare was awakening in her…
Hermione shook off these thoughts because she felt blood rushing into her cheeks again.
They reached the Infirmary. Snape led her to the little room separated by a white screen. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, which pleased Hermione. What would she think?
There really was a classical massage deck in the middle of room; even with the hole for a face. (A/N: This hole doesn't play any role in the story. But every time I go for a massage I like it so much that I just HAD to put it in there ;)). Hermione sat on the deck and was going to lie on her stomach, when she heard a dry laugh.
"Is it a muggle habit to give a backrub through the clothes?" he asked, amused. Hermione's face went red as tomato.
"N-no…it's just…could you…?"
"Oh my, what do you think about me? Of course that I'll turn away."
What an embarrassment, thought Hermione while taking off her blouse. After a moment of hesitation she unbuttoned her bra.
She rolled on her stomach resignedly and put her face into the hole designed for that (A/N: Yay! So the hole DOES play some role in the story...erm, I'm sorry for that o).
Then she felt a cool touch of massage gel and even cooler fingers. At the beginning she again couldn't get rid of certain amount of tension (Snape's giving me a massage! Do you understand! Snape! Massaging! Me!), but it soon melted away in the waves of release which were going not only through her back but through her all body.
His hands were in one moment tracing circles around her vertebrae, then he was hitting her press points with backs of his hands and sometimes he was doing things that Hermione couldn't describe. But one thing was sure – everything was oh so damned pleasant!
Severus Snape suddenly interrupted the silence between them:
"Some people think that the point is to pressurize as much as possible, that it's like when the butcher beats the meat, but my opinion is that it is the question of knowing-" he found especially sensitive spot down her spine- "where and how to press properly."
He gently increased the press.
Hermione couldn't help but moaned. She didn't see how her teacher smirked smugly.
"Who taught you that?" she breathed out.
"Madame Pomfrey?"
"No. I'm afraid that Poppy prefers the butcher's attitude."
"So who was it?"
"It differs," said Snape evasively.
It wasn't like Hermione expected him to tell her. He was quite protecting his privacy; surely even more against her.
Again she yielded to his experienced touch but to her disappointment Severus Snape soon rubbed his hands and then clapped them; it meant the massage was over.
Hermione now felt that her body was very limp and soft as after a long hot bath. Her limbs were warm and full of sleepy tiredness. Therefore she struggled a little with fastening of her bra. Suddenly she felt the familiar hands again and the naughty hook went to its place.
She didn't stop at this new intimacy, just thanked.
"I thank you so much, it really helped," she said sincerely. He just nodded and would have gone away, if she hadn't continued:
"I just have one question – why? You hate me!"
He slowly went to her and sat next to her at the edge of the deck.
"What if I want to persuade you it's not true?" he whispered.
Hermione thought she would drown in those serious ebony eyes that were slowly approaching her. He gently took off one hand, as if he wanted to caress her face. She almost stopped breathing.
Then he let his hand fall to his crotch again and adverted his gaze. After that he stood up and headed to the door. Hermione felt like at one moment she held a beautiful ice crystal which, after she had warmed him with her warmth, did not only thawed but vanished into thin air. He was so close…
He suddenly stopped and looked back at her.
"You'd better go and pack up your things. I decided that I would make use of that silver cauldron after all."
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(1) Mare is an expression I, my sister and some of our friends use. It means stupid girl, usually blond (often dyed) wearing only pink and light blue or something similarly horrific. They also enjoy those disgustingly big plastic circles instead of normal earrings. Mares don't talk, they neigh, usually about guys or, err, guys .