Chapter Two
He found her in the library a short while later, surrounded by stacks of books and a scroll of parchment nearly as long as her hair, which trailed down an entire row of shelves the end nearly at his feet. She was actually quite attractive with Irma's dark hair around her heart-shaped face. His mind wandered for a moment and he jerked back out of daydreams with conscious effort.
Hermione sighed, dipping her quill into the green inkwell hovering by her hand, adding notes next to the cramped block of red writing. ''What do you want?''
Flinching at the coldness in her voice, Severus paused before speaking. ''I came to return a book. And I thought that perhaps while I was here I could see if you required any … assistance.''
The first was a half-truth, for he'd selected a book at random to return. When he'd handed it to Irma, he'd seen that he was not, in fact, finished with the volume, but considered the annoyance worth checking on her. That she was sprouting Irma's hair came of no surprise — he'd already figured that particular part of her curse out.
''Oh.'' Hermione tried not to sound as crestfallen as she felt to be a secondary thought. There was no way he'd come primarily to check on her. ''Thank you. I'm sorry to be an inconvenience to you.''
''You are no such thing,'' Severus chided before he could stop himself. Brown eyes met black as she regarded him in surprise. He marveled at the blush of pink on her cheeks. Was she embarrassed, or did she perhaps harbor some affection for him? Damn, he couldn't tell. ''What have you found thus far?''
''Other than I'm an atrocious red-head, but don't look too bad in black?'' A wry grin twisted her lips. ''Not much. I'm not sure what traces you found on the ring, or what spells were originally used. Right now I'm just doing general research on curses, how to remove cursed objects …''
''What about your hair?'' he interjected, curious. ''When the curse is removed, will it revert to normal? Will your hair all fall out and begin to grow normally?''
Hermione paled as she stared at him and he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Usually that waited until the arrival of students. ''You didn't even consider it, did you?'' She shook her head. ''What about if you cannot undo this before term begins? Will you cart your hair around everywhere? Will you cut it off daily as it grows with different lengths and colors? Can it be cut?''
''Oh dear Merlin …I didn't even …''
''Come with me.'' Hermione tidied her things with a swish of her wand, sending the books back to their proper places, and Severus moved down the aisle to gather her hair. He started with the end – her familiar curls were as silken as he'd thought and he fought the urge to bury his nose in them. Instead, he merely gathered armfuls of brown, red, blonde, and grey. He led the way to his quarters, Hermione following him.
I've got her on a leash, he thought a bit madly. How he'd once have loved to have the girl — and her cohorts — on a leash and out of trouble. And of course, now that she was in trouble she was on the damn leash!
''Screechsnap,'' he snarled at the portrait guarding his quarters. It leapt open, knowing better than to chat or dare ask any nosy questions. It had taken a mere two incidents involving turpentine for the portrait to learn, which was a better learning curve than most of his students. ''Do not touch anything.''
He dumped her hair on the low couch and she took a seat, looking around her with interest. Severus disappeared through another door with a muttered password — likely his private lab, she thought. She hadn't expected his quarters to be so … so. Somehow, she'd have thought there would be some measure of comfort. The rooms she could see looked barely lived-in. His desk was clear with the exception of a shiny black quill on its rest and a very, very large bottle of red ink clearly awaiting essays to grade. Even the sitting room was devoid of more than minimal furnishings. The shelves were polished, the books neatly in place and arranged by subject. There was a distinct lack of windows, but the sconces provided enough light for her to notice that the couch lacked throw pillows and the beautiful quilt tossed haphazardly over the arm had seen many years by his side.
Was it wrong to be jealous of a quilt? Hermione glowered into the fire keeping the room warm despite the perpetual chill and tucked her legs up under her. She was being silly — of all the things to worry about! Still … she couldn't help but feel wondrous that he'd allowed her into his quarters. She yawned. That fire really did its job, and the heat was making her sleepy.
He was inordinately thankful that no students were around to see him striding from the laboratory to his office and back again with various dangerous-looking implements floating sedately along behind him. It would be worse, he mused, if onlookers knew the sharp objects were intended for use on another professor. Ah, well, couldn't be helped. For a moment he was actually quite sorry that no one was there to witness, for he was certain it would have earned him at least a week of well-behaved classes if they'd thought he was willing to carve up the famous Hermione Granger.
The scissors scraped dangerously near his gaunt cheek as he stopped in the doorway, but he couldn't be arsed to care. She was asleep again. What the hell? By her account, Hermione had had a pleasant morning. There was no reason for such lassitude. Concern drew his brows tight as he hastened to her side, kneeling by the sofa.
He fumbled for her free wrist, pressing two pale fingers against the delicate blue vein. For a moment Severus thought the pulse was his own heart, but the beat under the pads of his fingers was slow and steady compared to the beat in his throat.
He began casting another series of diagnostic spells.
Various shades of yellow and orange glimmered off of her hair, lighting her serene features. He'd never really had the opportunity to watch her sleep before today, and she was … lovely. Even the soft snores she emitted weren't grating as he had imagined such sounds would be. He wondered if she stole the covers, then flushed as he realised he'd been envisioning her in his bed. The results of his spells didn't indicate anything alarming, just exhaustion likely caused by the growing of so much hair, so he shook her tentatively.
''Mmm.'' Hermione nestled deeper in the cushion and he scowled, shaking her more vigorously.
''Wake up,'' he hissed. Her eyes flew open and she looked startled before letting out a blood-curdling scream. Severus fell over backwards, his bony arse hitting the ground and he winced.
Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed, before pointing at the cutlery floating above him. ''What the hell, Severus! I only fell asleep, you can't use me as potion ingredients!''
''For the love of — Granger, calm down!'' He flicked his wand and they settled gently to the floor. Severus levered to his feet, towering over her. She quieted immediately. ''It may have escaped your notice, Granger, but before you decided to take a nap we had been discussing an attempt at cutting your hair. I have gathered several items to try.''
''Oh.'' Well, now she felt silly. Hermione sat up, her hand lingering over the softness of the quilt she'd been resting against before peering sheepishly up at him from under her lashes. ''I'm sorry, Severus.'' He certainly looked intimidating, sneering down his nose at her. ''Er — What did you come up with?''
''To start, I thought that perhaps we would try scissors. They are, after all, the tried and true method of cutting. May I?'' He was being so courteous … Hermione felt her cheeks warm as she nodded and handed him the end of her hair. Severus sat next to her, so close she could feel his body heat and see the stitching on his buttonholes. The scissors closed around her hair, just below Molly's color. Nothing happened. ''It was worth a try.''
She watched as he discarded the scissors on the low table, selecting a knife. ''Silver, of course.'' Nothing happened. Severus frowned and tried several other wicked-looking instruments. Finally he picked up a pair of heavy shears. ''Iron, should do the trick.''
''Why do you even have those?'' Hermione cried in dismay as he wrestled them with both hands.
''Harvesting feyvine,'' he told her. ''The iron makes their inherent magic inert long enough to be cut.'' He closed the shears — they snipped but didn't cut her hair at all. She hoped her locks hadn't dented the damn things, for Severus glowered at her hair as if it had personally offended him, dropping the tool on the floor with an annoyed snarl. ''I was hoping for a similar effect here.''
The way he grumbled made her smile. She glanced at the small clock on his mantle. ''Well, it's alright. I'm no worse off. Shall we test if it grows in the presence of the same people and see about dinner?''
''Perhaps.'' Severus rose from the couch and gathered her hair with a long-suffering look.
''I can do that,'' Hermione offered but he merely raised an eyebrow at her. ''Really, I don't want to you to have to …'' His glare deepened, daring her to argue. She rolled her eyes. ''Fine. See if I care if you look like a hen-pecked — oof!''
She spun and glared at the man who had yanked on her hair. Severus stood tall, with as much dignity as a man holding mounds of multicolored hair could muster. ''I would not say such things if I were you,'' he purred dangerously in a silken tone. ''Someone could misconstrue a statement like that as an invitation to fulfill the rest of that particular description.''
Hermione gaped at him, unsure what to answer until he swept past her and she was forced to trot along behind him, led by the hair in his arms.
Severus forced himself to display no outward emotion as he mechanically lifted his soup spoon to his mouth. What had made him flirt with her? Of all possible things to say in that moment, he had flirted. On one hand, she had not outright rejected him as he had feared would be the case. On the other, she seemed … confused as the night progressed. Poppy had not yet appeared and curiously, she had not sprouted Hagrid's hair when the half-giant had staggered raucously into the hall ten minutes past the start of the meal. Another puzzle of her curse.
Hermione, for her part, was trying to stop her heart from beating against her ribs like a frantic caged bird. She was fairly certain that Severus had just flirted with her. In fact, she would have called that coming on rather strongly, as the saying went. It was confusing — the man didn't even want to be friends with her. Hadn't she just reflected on that earlier after fixing her hair? She paused, her salad fork halfway to her mouth.
Fixing her hair. Hadn't she, just for a moment, wished for someone — anyone — else's hair? It's the ring, she thought suddenly. Her fork clattered to her plate, spilling greens everywhere.She had done this. She'd set it off! And maybe her second musing about wanting Severus was prompting the care and concern he was showing. Yes, that had to be why. He didn't desire friendship with her, and now he'd been carting her hair around … And just as she'd been beginning to hope she'd stood a chance. Tears stung her eyes as she stood abruptly and excused herself despite the protests and concern of her colleagues, determined to make it to her chambers before allowing herself to have a good cry.
Severus watched her go, warring between chasing after her like a lovesick fool and remaining where he was in case Poppy managed to drag herself to the school anytime soon. He'd been planning to suggest Hermione owl the Weasleys, find out where, exactly, the incompetent fool had gotten the ring and what had been done to it before it came into her ownership. There was a slim chance the twin had managed to retain his notes. One of the two always had and he couldn't for the life of him remember which of them it was. If George Weasley wasn't the one who did, Hermione was likely going to need to rely on luck to undo her curse.
Well, she thought to herself as she took another bite of ice cream and dabbed ineffectually at her eyes with Severus's handkerchief from earlier, Hermione, you've really messed this up. If you confess, he'll never trust you again and you'll never have a chance with him. And if you don't confess and he finds out, he'll never trust you again and you'll never have a chance with him. And if you don't confess your hair will probably strangle you in your sleep, the curse will likely break, he'll realise what happened, and probably not even come to your funeral.
Regardless of how she looked at it, she was well and truly doomed. At least now you know that you can't copy an elf's hair … or lack thereof. The thought didn't cheer her up, nor did the fudge dripping from her sundae spoon. Alright so the latter did help a little. She sniffled. Why couldn't she have just asked him out when she'd first realised she liked him? At least then she would have had a chance of shifting his opinion of her … But this … Sometimes she hated magic. She knew Severus well enough to know that if thought he'd been used or manipulated, she'd never worm her way into his heart.
Hermione sighed, feeling rather pitiful. Cursed, doomed romantically, and out of ice cream. She debated summoning another elf, trying to convince herself she wasn't really putting the creatures out. (Minerva would still not hear a single word about Elf Rights, to her chagrin.) On the other hand, she didn't want to cart her hair all the way down to the kitchen, either, just for a sundae she probably didn't even really need.
Now she was starting to see why Dumbledore kept sweets in his office. So much easier.
Making a mental note to stock up at the first Hogsmeade weekend — assuming she was not rendered immobile by her hair — Hermione wondered how she was going to rectify the situation when a sudden thought struck her. How the hell was she going to brush her hair? Wash it? How long was it going to get? Would she have to rely on the elves for assistance? What if she never broke the curse and had to teach classes looking like a mad escapee from a fairy tale?
A knocking at the door saved her from her tumbling thoughts and she hastened to answer it, tripping over her hair in her haste and scraping her knee against the stone floor. She hissed in pain, rose, and yanked her hair out of her way before throwing her door open with a bang to rival Severus's penchant for theatrics.
''Oh. Hello, Minerva, Madam Pomfrey.''
''You can call me Poppy, dear.'' The Mediwitch told her affectionately, dismay creeping into her expression. Hermione rightly took that to mean that her hair was growing again with Poppy Pomfrey's white. Perfect. ''This is a problem, isn't it?''
Minerva frowned. ''Is Severus here?''
''No,'' Hermione replied. ''I haven't seen him since I left dinner.''
The headmistress scowled and turned to a nearby portrait. ''Fetch Professor Snape to Professor Granger's chambers. Tell him Poppy's here.''
The figure in the painting disappeared immediately, and Hermione moved to let the other women into her rooms. She was inordinately grateful that she had just moved in so that everything was tidy, as she tended to swing between creative chaos and obsessive tidiness once she was properly settled. Before she could protest, Minerva had called an elf, ordering tea for four. The service appeared in short order, a knit cozy wrapped around the pot, just as an authoritative rap sounded off her door.
''Don't trouble yourself,'' Minerva commanded as Poppy bent to examine Hermione's knee, healing it with a flick of her wand. ''Ah, Severus.''
''Minerva. Poppy.'' His eyes rested on Hermione's face, yet he didn't greet her, his gaze instead flicking down to the bloody rip on her trousers being mended by Poppy's patient wand.
''Have a seat,'' Hermione blurted, gesturing to the couch she was on, as the two salvage armchairs were taken. To her wonder, Severus closed the door and seated himself on the very edge of the cushion and accepted the floral teacup from Minerva. He looked uncomfortable.
''I assume my presence was required because of Poppy's arrival,'' Severus said stiffly. He'd never been in her quarters before. They were … comfortable, too much so. They were the kind of comfortable that made him want to stay and that was dangerous. He'd already given too much of himself away by flirting with her. Becoming comfortable in her space would be too big of an admission. He'd sooner remove his own liver and eat it in an omelet.
''Of course,'' Poppy said, and Severus set down his teacup to pull his wand from his sleeve. Displaying the results from his diagnostics, he flinched as something curled around his ankle. He exhaled noisily in relief as he realised it was merely Hermione's hair. It had grown longer, of course, and in its progress it had apparently decided to head towards him.
''Interesting diagnoses,'' Poppy murmured, and Severus agreed.
''I did take the liberty of contacting George Weasley. He will be joining us at breakfast with his notes on the ring his brother passed to you,'' said Severus. ''And if he does not show, I will drag his arse down to the school.'' The last was muttered darkly under his breath as he pondered several inventive uses for various potions. A stifled giggle from the witch on the sofa beside him told him she'd heard him and he felt a small glow that she'd been amused.
Minerva nodded. ''I'll make sure there's a place set for him. You said you tried cutting the hair, Severus?''
''He did,'' Hermione broke in, her tone grateful. ''Several things. Nothing worked.''
''Yes,'' he sneered, hunching over his teacup. ''And I had to sharpen the silver knife as well as ask Hagrid to get the nick out of my damned shears. All for naught.''
Poppy had been occupying herself by casting further charms on Hermione and was now apparently content with her results. ''Sorry to interrupt, but it appears as if aside from a touch of exhaustion from growing all that hair, you're in perfect health, Hermione. I would like to monitor you daily for any changes. Exhaustion can be tricky and we don't want you collapsing on a stairwell, so have someone escort you up to the infirmary.''
Severus bit his tongue to stop himself from volunteering.
Relieved, Hermione smiled at them all. ''Well, that at least explains the napping.''
''Next order of business,'' Minerva announce briskly, selecting a ginger newt from the tray and placing it alongside her teacup. ''We should discuss what is to be done about your hair, since it cannot be cut. You will be unable to teach in this condition.''
Hermione opened her mouth to protest but the headmistress stopped her with an upheld hand. ''I merely wish to have a plan in place. I would much prefer that we resolve this before the start of term.''
''Yes, Minerva,'' she replied meekly. Beside her, Severus shifted and took a sip of tea. Merlin save him from interminable meetings.
Hermione stared blearily at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was a mess. A complete and utter mess Tangles were everywhere, but as least her roots were slowly turning familiar brown. Maybe it's run its course, she thought for one hopeful moment. Maybe my hair will grow out and then the rest will just detach or something.
But by breakfast, her hopes had been dashed. After struggling to shower she'd given up washing the hair and had settled on several cleansing charms. It had taken three elves to get her hair brushed and braided, but at least it was clean and, thanks to the braid, a teensy bit shorter. She looked down at herself and sighed. She'd planned on wearing her normal attire, but pulling a shirt over her head was too much of an ordeal, so robes it was.
Hermione dropped her hair and plopped into the chair next to Hagrid. The half-giant pushed the teapot close to her. ''Morning, Hermione. Yeh alright?''
''Morning. Thanks, Hagrid.'' She was glad someone had filled him in on her problem. ''I'm as well as can be expected.'' She poured herself a cup of tea and glanced around the table. ''I guess everyone else is running late.''
Hagrid nodded, serving himself a veritable mountain of eggs.
Hermione was spreading jam over her toast when Minerva and Poppy came in. Minerva's lips pursed as she took her seat. ''It's still growing,'' Minerva informed her. Hermione dropped her toast and her hands flew to her head. Minerva transfigured a goblet into a mirror and handed it to her. ''Here.''
''I suppose it was too much to hope that it was stopping,'' Hermione sighed. Minerva's hair was slowly adding itself. ''Damn it …''
''Do try not to swear when the children arrive,'' the other witch observed, amused.
Poppy cast a few spells at Hermione, then nodded, satisfied with the results, before sitting down herself. ''Has Severus come and gone already?''
''He wasn't here when I came down,'' Hermione replied.
Hagrid shook his head. ''I ain't seen him.''
Just then, the doors to the Great Hall flew open with a bang as Severus stalked in, carrying a sleek black broom and pulling George along by his ear.
''ALRIGHT! GEROFF! I CAN WALK ON MY OWN!'' yowled the red-head, who was clad in particularly ugly dragonskin pajamas. ''SNAPE!''
Severus let go and the boy fell to the stone floor. ''I said be at the gates, Weasley, or I would come and fetch you. You were not.''
''You didn't have to pull me by my one good ear,'' George grumbled, clutching a sheaf of parchments. Then he happened to glance up at the table and saw Hermione and the rest staring at him open-mouthed. ''Merlin's balls … you weren't joking.''
Severus's scowl deepened. ''I am not one given to fits of speaking for my own benefit, Weasley.'' The words were purred despite their audience. ''However, I will give you leave to eat before you set about fixing the problem.''
''Right. Well. Hullo, everyone. I, er, apologise for my attire.'' George scrambled for a seat under Severus's dark gaze. The Potions Master himself took a seat at the far end of the table and promptly poured himself a large cup of coffee as if he hadn't just threatened someone in front of witnesses.
''Good morning, Mister Weasley,'' Minerva finally managed, giving Severus a reproachful look. He gathered from her expression that she'd like wish to 'discuss' this before long, and offered her a single raised eyebrow in challenge. The rest of the staff murmured various greetings as well.
'''Mione.''
''Hi George. Sausages?''
The meal was awkward after that, with stilted conversation on every topic but Hermione's hair and the ring. George kept glancing at Severus as if to assure himself that talking was allowed, and Hermione couldn't really blame him. Severus seemed to have gone out of his way to be terrifying. If it wasn't the ring influencing him, it'd be almost sweet, she thought. Like he cares and was trying to show it …
The staff soon made excuses, Poppy reminding Hermione to come up and see her by tea time for a check up, and Hermione waved weakly, already wondering how she'd get out of it. Eventually Hagrid took his leave and even Minerva found a reason to depart, leaving poor George alone with her and Severus.
The red-head gulped. ''Right. So. Ron gave you the DesireRing, did he?''
''Sort of.'' Hermione explained the situation and George shook his head.
''I'm so glad I don't live at home … Mum's on my case enough about Angelina. Still, that was pretty clever of Ron.'' Privately, Severus had to begrudgingly agree. ''I do wish he hadn't nicked the ring, though. I hadn't gotten all the enchantments off yet. Can I see it?''
She extended her hand and Severus felt the muscle in jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth. He didn't want Weasley — or any man — touching her. She was too … too … Too clever, too lovely, too perfect … Damn it, man, stop it! He schooled his expression as quickly as possible while the two were busy with the ring.
To give himself further excuse to remain, he poured a fourth cup of coffee. He'd have to piss before too long, but in the meantime he could remain here and keep her under his watchful eye. It would be just like Weasley to exacerbate the problem rather than rectifying it. He scowled darkly at the coffee pot. Hopefully it would refill itself before he was reduced to drinking the swill known as dandelion juice.
George whistled low between his teeth, scratching at his head. ''This is unique. I don't know how they got all tangled like that.''
''Show us your notes,'' Hermione demanded, and George acquiesced even as Severus's eyebrows shot up. Us? Granger thought of them as an us? Warmth blossomed in his chest and he desperately tried to pretend it was merely heartburn from the hollandaise sauce. ''Severus, would you come down here?''
''I can duplicate my notes —'' George's offer was drowned out as Severus scraped his chair back and promptly tripped over the hair that had wrapped itself around his legs.
Severus let loose a stream of invective that had the enchanted sky of the hall tinging pink and the insufferable Gryffindors's jaws nearly brushing their silverware. Bloody hell, that had hurt! He had certainly bruised his damned kneecaps as well as his pride. He straightened as quickly as possible, flipping his robes back down where they belonged and brushing the slight dust from his frock coat and trousers. He could feel the heat on his cheekbones from the laughter bubbling out of the Weasley's appallingly open mouth.
''Shut it, George!'' Horrified, Hermione swatted him and hurried to Severus's side. ''Oh, Merlin, are you alright? I'm so sorry, Severus, I didn't realise it had gotten so long …''
Black eyes met hers, her hand a millimeter from his cheek, and she lost her nerve to touch him.
''You look horrid with red hair,'' he said. By the fleeting look of shock that crossed his face, she didn't think he'd meant to say it.
''Yes. Well. Thank goodness this will be temporary, then,'' she retorted. ''Alternatively, Severus, you won't have to look at my hair if you'd look at the damned parchments instead.'' His eye twitched and she thought she'd gotten away with snapping at him. Plunging on, she dragged her hair out of his way and plopped back into her hair. ''Sit over here and we'll go over it all.''
To her surprise, he actually did what she bade and she couldn't help but feel the pang once more. It was likely just the ring's magic working on him. Couldn't he want to be near her without it? Treat her like a friend?
The scent of her filled his senses, but now was not the time to close his eyes and catalog each fragrance. Rare was his chance to be so close, and he wished that it was not the curse that allowed him such familiarity. Severus pushed his longing away to read Weasley's notes. There would be time for that later.
Hermione had giggled at George being unceremoniously dismissed from the Great Hall after he'd duplicated his notes for them to continue their work so that he could be at the shop on time. Poor boy had looked so bewildered when Severus shut the door behind him with a clang, leaving the two of them alone. Then again, he was probably just relieved to have escaped with his bollocks intact. Severus hadn't exactly been the soul of hospitality.
She bent over her copy, re-reading the part of on the desire-granting enchantment when Severus cleared his throat to get her attention.
''I can either fetch ink and quills or we can retire to one of our chambers,'' Severus told her without any evasion. She blinked at him, surprised. Had he just offered to let her in again?
''Yours!'' Merlin save him, she sounded entirely too cheery about that prospect. And oh, hell, now she was gathering up her hair, beaming at him expectantly. He sighed.
''Follow me, Granger.'' He collected the parchments and spun on his heel, stalking towards the back door without looking to see if she was following. His heart beat a little faster when he heard her willing footsteps behind him. She wanted to come with him! Or …was it because he was helping her? Damn it. Would he ever know?
''In,'' he snapped once he'd muttered the password for his door, holding it open for her. Was it his imagination or did Hermione blush as she passed him?
''The sitting area, or your office?'' Hermione asked politely, and he regarded her thoughtfully.
''In the sitting area. I don't want your hair to swallow my desk. I will need that once term begins.''
''Three more days until the kids arrive.'' Her tone was conversational. ''Are you ready?''
He gave her the most long-suffering look he could manage. ''Granger, I am always ready. However, at this precise moment, we need to focus on ending your curse, else come term all of Hogwarts will be rendered impenetrable by a veritable wall of hair.''
''And the last thing we want is for this to go from Rapunzel to Sleeping Beauty,'' she quipped. Hermione waited, but Severus merely looked at her impassively. A flush crept up her neck. ''Erm, because … the hair … and then if it surrounds the castle …''
''I did comprehend,'' he told her, Summoning self-inking quills and parchment to them from his desk drawers. ''Now then, let us begin with identifying which enchantments are still active …''
Hermione stretched before prodding at the ring once more. It still wouldn't budge. ''Damn.''
Severus handed her a cup of tea from the lunch tray the elves had kindly provided. He kept his feet away from the hair that had coiled itself under his chair. ''At least we have eliminated some of the charms from his list.''
''That,'' she agreed, ''or those charms merged with another. George said that it should have been temporary, that the ring should come off...''
''He's the moron who made it a self-sizing ring,'' Severus told her darkly. ''Sizing enchantments should be done by a jeweler, not a joke shop owner. Normal sizing enchantments do not cause rings to leap onto your finger, nor render the ring irremovable.''
''Well, the ring isn't also supposed to make me randomly add more hair!'' Hermione bit viciously into a watercress sandwich.
''Don't be deliberately obtuse. It's not random.'' Severus took a sip of his own tea. ''You are taking on the hair of those within a certain range, and daily. So far the only exclusions I have found are myself and Hagrid.''
''And Harry,'' she said suddenly, straightening. The fire crackled and popped, casting its light over the pair of them. ''Harry was at the Burrow and I don't have his untidy mop in here anywhere!''
Severus's eyes narrowed. ''What do you think of Hagrid's hair?'' His voice was mild. Too mild.
''It's worse than mine,'' she admitted. ''It's matted and I think there's a perpetual bit of pomade stuck in it.''
''And mine?'' he purred.
Oh, this was dangerous territory. ''I think that while your hair could use a change in shampoo to one meant for oily hair,'' she began diplomatically, ''I honestly can't imagine you without your hair.''
''To the point, Granger.'' His nostrils flared - Severus was losing patience.
''Your hair is greasy and I would never ever want it sprouting from my head!'' Hermione blurted. His eyes crinkled in amusement as her free hand slapped over her mouth.
''At least that answers that.'' He added it to his notes in his cramped and spiky script.
''That's it? You're not angry?''
Severus raised an eyebrow at the witch trailing her fingers over his ancient quilt, fervently wishing it was he she was exploring so tenderly. ''Granger, do you think that I am unaware of my appearance and the general opinion regarding it?''
She squirmed on the couch. ''No.''
''Then there is nothing more to discuss. Consider my usual temperament suspended for the moment — we are trying to rectify this before term, and it is not the place for you to withhold information.'' Hermione nodded and he continued, satisfied. ''Good.'' Severus scratched at an itch on his over-large nose. ''So it appears your hair is influenced by the ring, which is responding to your wish to, as you said, have almost anyone else's hair.''
Curious was the color on her cheeks, and he dismissed it as embarrassment. He couldn't truly blame the witch for being self-conscious about her appearance. It happened to him on occasion — admittedly less often over the last few years, but still.
''—Bloody hell, what's happening to your hair now?''
''What?''
''It's turning blonde.''
''What?'' Hermione conjured a mirror as there was a familiar knock on Severus's chamber door.
''Stay here and be quiet,'' he ordered, rising. He brushed away the tail end of her hair that had crept up behind the chair and draped itself over the back to tickle his face, carefully stepping over the overly-long braid. He closed the sitting room door behind him partway for good measure.
Severus yanked his chamber door open at the second, more insistent knock. ''What the hell do you want, Lucius?''
The blond tsk'd softly, his cane tapping against the bald stone floor as he pushed past. ''And here I thought I'd trained you with better manners by now.''
''I have manners,'' Severus snarled.
''Yes, it's displaying them you have trouble with.'' Lucius surveyed the entryway and the door with interest.
''What are you even doing at Hogwarts?'' Exasperated, Severus attempted to corral his friend.
''The governors and I are taking a bit of a stroll through with your Headmistress. We were passing by and I thought I'd drop in for a brief chat.''
''All of the governors?'' Severus blanched. ''How close?''
Lucius chuckled. ''Afraid they'll attempt to convince you to take McGonagall's post again?''
He snorted. ''Merlin, no. I believe the scathing missives I directed their way last year may have gotten it through their thick skulls.''
''Of course.'' Lucius waited expectantly, but Severus didn't invite him in.
''I am in the middle of a project, so I am afraid we will need to converse out here.''
''Ah. Tell me does this project have anything to do with your l-''Severus flicked his wand and cast a Muffliato, ''-love for that Muggleborn?''
''Oh, you've learned to say it right,'' he replied snidely. His heart was pounding against his ribs. What if Hermione had heard? She'd storm out and he'd never be able to get close to her again. ''And in a roundabout way, yes. She has a problem and I am providing assistance.''
''Just tell the witch how you feel and be done with it. Worst possible outcome is rejection, and you can easily deal with that.''
''We have met before, haven't we?'' The sarcasm wasn't lost on his blond friend, who laughed, overjoyed.
''Ah, Severus, I never tire of our conversations.'' Lucius pretended to examine his immaculate black leather gloves, then paused delicately. ''—And what, pray tell, is that?''
''Oh, hell.''
''Is Hagrid breeding more illegal animals I'm going to have to hide from the board because you harbor some soft emotion for the oaf?''
Horrified, Severus stared at the tail of hair slowly growing from the sitting room. ''That would be the bit of curse trouble we're having.''
''Curse? I see,'' Lucius replied mildly as the hair reached Severus's foot. ''I'll let you get back to that, then. By the way, have you tried True Love's Kiss?''
''Get out,'' he snarled, pointing towards the door. ''She doesn't feel that way for me.''
''That says differently,'' he replied with an incline of his blond hair. Lucius stepped to the door. ''Tell me, how many times has it reached to you? Haven't you noticed how she looks at you? Say something before the bossy witch gives up.''
Severus stared at the closed door for a long moment, speechless. When he finally managed to cancel his spell and return to the sitting room, Hermione was asleep on the couch wrapped securely in his frayed quilt. Her hair had grown blonde and a rich brown already and was heading for grey. With ten members of the board left to go, it was no wonder she was exhausted. Still … she was supposed to check in with Poppy, wasn't she?
His fists clenched indecisively before he relented and gathered her carefully into his arms. After all, he reassured himself, Poppy had said for her to be escorted.
Chapter 3, the final chapter, shall be up soon!