Author's Note: I fully enjoy the fact that fanfiction means I get to choose who lived and died in the war. *frolics*

Chapter 10

Severus looked around his classroom, at the ingredients lined up for the students to use, at the cauldrons stacked neatly against the wall. The new potion assignment was on the board. He had planned his "interruption" to give his students a chance to steal their doses. He had spoken with the elves and they were aware students would be attempting to dose the food—it would be allowed, but the staff table's meals as well as a few others would remain untouched. He had owled the little shits who had dared to leave him love letters, and their detention was set for that night.

It was the perfect plan.

The door opened just as he picked up his pocket watch to check the time. He turned, his face cold, but he relaxed as he saw Hermione closing the door behind her.

"So, what are you planning?" She had an impish smile as she crossed the room, a roll of parchment in her hands.

He snorted.

"Oh, is that how it is? Plausible deniability?"

"Indeed." He bent and brushed his lips over hers. "What did you wish to speak with me about?"

"These," she replied, handing him the scroll. A faint scowl hovered about her lips and he kissed her again. He much preferred the smile. "I mailed off the fake story last night, and the tracking charms' result don't make any sense. I've gone over them and run various calculations, but I must have done something wrong with the spells. Can you look them over?"

"Of course." Severus locked the parchment in his desk drawer.

"So. The hourglasses. How many students did you catch last night?"

"Every single hiding place in the Astronomy tower, and more," he replied smugly.

"Wow. That's impressive. Sounds like a good night."

"It was until I found love letters on my desk." Severus's brows drew together. Anger stirred in his chest again.

"Plural? How did they get in here?"

"Probably tricked or threatened some elves. They will be dealt with."

"The students or elves?"

"The students, of course."

Hermione glanced at the board, and he saw the pieces click into place. "Oh you're not."

"I will reveal nothing." She laughed and rose up on tiptoe to kiss him.

"You're as bad as the students sometimes."

He couldn't fight the smile playing about his lips. "Perhaps."

"I take it back. You're worse, simply because you know how to get away with it."

With a chuckle, he bent to her.

"You know you have three students out there clutching copies of those ratty books and hoping you'll exit the classroom, don't you?" she murmured between kisses.

Severus scowled. "Don't remind me."

"We'll get to the bottom of it soon," Hermione promised.

"And in the interim I have to deal with children—" he sneered "—who have the emotional maturity of nose-biting teacups and the impulse control of a caffeinated baboon."

She snorted. "Right. And on that note, I will let you get to your dastardly deed. I have a class to teach, too."

Hermione left, and as she opened the door he clearly saw the afore-mentioned students (whose ranks had increased) and heard their ridiculously sappy sigh as they caught sight of him.

Damn it all—he flicked his hand and the door slammed with a resounding bang.

Severus took another bite of his crisps and frowned down at the careful notes and calculations Hermione had brought him. It really made no sense. Absently, he brushed sandwich crumbs from his frock coat. She had finished the manuscript, cast the charms he had taught her to ensure that she could not be traced back to the tale, and sent it off. She was a powerful and extremely clever witch, so he could not understand why the results were so strange.

It appeared as if the pages had come back to Hogwarts moments after having left the Owlery. Which of course was possible if the owl had managed to drop its missive—it had been known to happen once in a while—or if there had been inclement weather that had driven the bloody bird back into the castle. Also possible. He hadn't paid attention to the weather between dinner and patrolling, but it was Scotland, after all.

Still... Annoyed, he leaned back in his office chair and scratched a few more calculations with his quill. Munching absently, he tried a few more variables with Hermione's existing equations, trying to explain it.

A chime sounded and he rose, taking the small corridor from office to laboratory. Both brews were coming along nicely, just the right shade of moss green. He added the powdered greenbaum horn to each and stirred, his strokes with both hands even and precise. Not for the first time he was rather glad that he was ambidextrous and had honed that particular skill.

When he returned to his office, potions attended to, there were two missives on his desk, and two owls perched on his chair.

"Shoo," he scowled, sweeping his arm to interrupt the one going for his stack of sandwiches. "Dratted bird. I don't have any treats for either of you, you will have to content yourselves with crusts." He tossed them each a few bits of bread and watched them go through the narrow vent in the ceiling designated for this very purpose with narrowed eyes.

He hated that blasted vent. He had found owl shite and feathers more than once and it was simply unsanitary, considering how often he ate in his office.

Severus looked overt the delivered letters, curious. The first was stained and written with what appeared to be a grubby pencil—ah, his Knockturn contacts. He perused the contents: still no worthwhile information aside from 'the charms used would have been developed solely by a master'.

Useless.

Filius had known nothing, and he was widely regarded as the premiere charms master in Europe.

And Severus lacked any non-European contacts who were not imprisoned as followers of the Dark Lord. (And thank Merlin for small favours.)

The second missive was on exquisite parchment, the hand familiar and the ink the rich emerald that he knew Lucius favoured. Severus's brows rose. The man lost his portion of his fortune and still wrote letters on the best money could buy. He shook his head. Maybe Draco was giving his father an allowance.

But never again would Severus be surprised at the ponce. Lucius and his expensive habits...

And of course the man was no use, either, protesting his utter lack of knowledge and citing his post-war isolation from the mainstream wizarding world. And of course congratulating Severus on the popularity of his 'series'. Popularity his arse.

Merlin, the man was several scones shy of a tea service.

Complete waste of cognac.

Hermione frowned as she looked over her students writhing in their seats, clutching their guts. She wondered just how badly the student body would be affected. Most of her was saying 'dismiss them early and let them get to the Hospital Wing', but a teeny tiny voice was saying 'most of them have ogled you and brought those books into class and they should suffer'.

She sighed, squashing that teeny tiny voice that had just a hint of Severus's snide tones in it.

"You may go."

They packed up and fled faster than she had ever seen before and she smiled ruefully. Today had been stressful but relatively uneventful, minus the students squirming uncomfortably in their bids to control their bowels. Oh, not every student was affected; those with carefully-controlled diets, those who had skipped lunch to snog, those who had missed lunch by chatting or researching, and somehow the students who had received notice of detention from Severus via owl that morning had all been spared.

Really, the man was devious. And it wasn't terribly harmful, either. He simply created opportunities and took advantage of the behaviours he could predict.

It was a bit childish of him, but she honestly couldn't begrudge him the bit of fun. He was a good deal less stressed when he did. No one got hurt, and while she didn't completely agree with his behaviour, he wasn't forcing anyone into anything.

Hermione frowned. Ah, the pitfall of being in love: rationalising their less desirable behaviours. She shrugged. Oh well. He'd grown into the childish thing from his bitter asshole thing, so it was entirely likely that he would eventually move on.

Then again, would she love him as much as she did if he wasn't a bitter asshole with a tendency to be childish?

An owl tapped on her classroom window and she let it in. The bird swooped to her desk, depositing the third Auror-office message she had gotten that day, and departed without begging for a treat.

Flipping it open and scanning the signature, she huffed and gathered it and the smut novel she had confiscated from Ackerman at the start of class up with her things. A glance at her wrist watch verified that Severus should have office hours, and she hurried through the halls with a stride to make the afore-mentioned Potions Master envious. Through her walk she managed to work herself into quite the righteous temper.

"Have you seen this?" Hermione asked, disgust colouring her voice as she burst through his office door.

Severus frowned and took the parchment. "It's a letter. Addressed to you."

"So clever of you," she retorted, not waiting for him to read it. "That is the third letter today from Harry's partner, who seems to be taking this whole thing a bit seriously now. He keeps asking what we've found so far, if we have any leads, etcetera. It's beginning to grate."

"Who did they saddle with Potter?" Severus scanned the missive.

"Colin." He glanced up at her, no recognition on his face. She elaborated. "Colin Creevey? Started after me, followed Harry around like a puppy? Prone to flash photography at inopportune moments?"

His eyes brightened. "Ah, him. Mostly average at potions, but doodled on his homework. Fair artist, as I recall."

"Was he? I never saw any of his drawings. His candid photos were very nice, though. I still have a few from my school years in an album." She sat across from him with a huff, setting her stack of papers, books, and quills on his desk. It wobbled precariously. "He's driving me mad. Absolutely mental. I know he's over-eager, especially when it comes to pleasing Harry, but there's a line."

"So tell him off." Severus handed her back the letter. Her pile wobbled and he caught the top books from sliding. "You know, if you placed the smaller books atop the larger, this would not happen."

"The smaller book was confiscated from a student, and is highly inappropriate. I didn't want to be seen toting it to the hall and to you." Hermione rested her hand on the corner of his desk, idly stroking the grain of the wood.

"Another one?" His lips thinned and he plucked from in between the textbooks. Severus scowled. "And featuring Potter, no less. 'Harry Potter and the Philanthropic Photoshoot'. Merlin save us all, they're attempting four-syllable words now."

"I haven't looked at it much yet," Hermione admitted, still toying with the edge of his desk. "I caught the glimmer of the glamour as it changed the cover and took it. The publisher's submission address is very clear though, so it may be one of the first and original tales. There's another mark on the back, too, that looks a tad familiar even if I can't place it. Do you think having it will help your research?"

"Doubtful. None of my avenues have netted me any information, which is unusual in and of itself." The lines of displeasure on his face grew more pronounced. "I will take a look at it. I may go this weekend under Polyjuice or glamour to ask questions. Perhaps it is me they are opposed to giving information to."

Her eyebrows rose. "Is that possible?"

"A slim chance. I am more surprised that Lucius was not forthcoming, and Filius has been less than useful."

"So I guess Knockturn is your only avenue, then."

"I also approached some Masters on the Continent. Still waiting for replies."

"I see." Hermione leaned back in her chair, letting go of his desk almost reluctantly. She rubbed her hands together. "I'll write Colin and tell him that tonight, then. Maybe he'll back off."

"Caution him not to go after anyone, either. Informants in Knockturn are prone to vanishing at the slightest whiff of Auror."

She laughed. "I'll tell him. How are the cauldrons?"

Severus shrugged. "The trials are well. So far, the addition of the charms has not netted any noticeable effect in the brewing, though perhaps the efficacy of the final product will be improved. Once we have brewed sufficient test batches we can test the potions themselves."

"Sounds like a plan." Hermione leaned forward in the chair now, seeming a little...antsy. "Do you have a class between now and dinner, or just office hours?"

He tilted his head, nostrils flaring. "Mere office hours, where I will likely remain undisturbed. In my entire career, precisely ten students have ever bothered to use them..." His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could adjourn to your rooms for a while and continue our conversation from yesterday."

Severus chuckled. "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Well, I was trying to be a bit subtle in case you had a portrait hidden behind the bookshelves that tends to eavesdrop. However, if you want me to be blunt...Severus, we have two hours until dinner and I wish to snog you silly."

"Interesting proposition." Severus leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and regarding her seriously. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and waited. "Very well, come along."

With a victorious little grin, she jumped off her chair. He plucked the book gingerly from his desk—she was right, the information on the back was legible, right down to the two old-fashioned-looking s's in the bottom of one corner—and led the way through a hidden corridor to his chambers. Not for the first time, Hermione appreciated that his office and laboratory and rooms were all connected.

"Just snog?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I have had an annoying morning, and I like kissing you. Where it goes from snogging is up to us."

"As you will." Severus dropped the book on his coffee table so it lay open, pages-down, and waved a hand, sealing the doors and Floo. He turned, his teaching robes settling gracefully around his feet as he shrugged out of them. Hermione watched him hungrily and nearly ripped a shoulder seam in her rush to get out of hers.

"Patience."

"Nope." Hermione tossed her robes over his easy chair, uncaring if they fell to the floor or missed the arm and fell into the fire. "Sorry, Severus. I hate being interrupted..."

He glowered at her. "Do stop that."

"Stop what?"

"The terrible attempt at dialogue."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. Honestly, that man... "I am attempting to seduce you."

Severus grimaced. "It's not working. All I hear are those blasted novels."

Her shoulders drooped. "Sorry."

"Don't be." He sat on the sofa and pulled her down to him by her arm. "Cease your prattle and kiss me."

Hermione laughed softly and brushed her lips over his cheek. "Prattle? Me?"

"You do tend to go on sometimes." He kissed her gently. "But I do rather like what happens when I kiss you."

"Oh?" Hermione kissed him again.

"Yes," he breathed, his lips ghosting over her cheek to her ear. "You stop talking. You stop thinking. You pant and writhe and kiss me as if I am the center of your universe."

"That's because you are," Hermione replied. She kissed his cheek, his fine hair tickling her nose. "You—oh..."

He nipped her earlobe and she sighed.

"Just like that." His voice was thick with smugness and she twisted, tugging on his hair to bring his mouth back to hers.

"Git," she told him fondly between kisses. He really was an exceptional kisser now, she mused. Intense, focused... If he learned kissing so quickly, what else would he be a quick study at?

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb feathering over her cheekbone, and his slow, hot, open-mouthed kisses were gentle and drugging.

Slowly, Hermione relaxed into the moment. Her tension and annoyance at the day, at her students, her classes...it all melted away. Certainly, she could have achieved the same peace by sitting and talking with him, with cups of tea and snide remarks... But this was somehow...more. More comforting. More intimate. Special.

They shifted on the sofa as they kissed until Hermione had managed to straddle his lap. She kissed him eagerly and ran her hands through the ends of his hair. It was a bit slick and oily, but she didn't care. After all, his long fingers got caught in her bushy mass as he tugged at it.

Everything about kissing Severus was a sensory experience. Buttons dug into her breasts, the wool scratchy against her exposed skin. Bony knees under her arse, the firmness of his chest...and the hot length at his groin.

With effort, she pulled back, panting lightly. She was drowning in her own heartbeat, in the exchange of breath. His mouth was intoxicating and her belly clenched with pure lust. Dear god, she wanted him... She wanted him so bloody much. Hermione licked her lips, and his eyes followed the motion almost covetously.

He tugged on the neck of her jumper, exposing the small purple bruise from yesterday. The hardness under her twitched.

She arched her neck back on a moan, giving him access to her throat as she rolled her hips. He nibbled hesitantly on her skin, his tongue dragging over her flesh as his hands ceased their movement. "Don't," she whimpered. "Don't hold back, Severus... I trust you. You're not going to manage to scare me off. I love you too much for that."

He let out a choked sound; restraint or a sob, she didn't know. All she did know was that she was being clutched too him with strong arms, his teeth sinking into her pulse. Heat fluttered through her veins, and she knew there would be another mark to glamour.

It was hunger, plain and simple, that swept her up and for the life of her she couldn't tell if it was sexual, emotional, or both.

Severus suckled at her skin and Hermione dug the fingers of one into his shoulders to maintain her balance. With her free hand she pulled fruitlessly at his cravat, the buttons of his coat.

"Off," she gasped. He mumbled something against her neck and pulled away. His pale fingers unfastened the cloth, deftly slipped buttons through their holes. Hermione grabbed the hem of her jumper and pulled it over her head, discarding it somewhere behind her. Her blouse was not fair behind.

Panting lightly, Severus wriggled free of his frock coat, leaving it crumpled gracelessly behind his back, and did the same to his shirt.

Her hands were halfway to his chest when he realised what he was smelling and grasped her wrists, preventing her from touching him. "Hermione. Stop."

She looked confused. "What? Why?" Her wrists twisted in his grip and he grimaced. Her voice sounded lost. "Severus?"

He brought his nose nearer to her hands. Yes. Damn it. How had he not caught on sooner? He had burned the letters on his desk, yes, but he had forgotten to cleanse the wood. His blood ran cold. Hermione didn't really want him, not now...She had been drugged and it was all his fault...

"Severus?" she asked again, sounding more herself. He made a distressed noise, trying to force the words past his crooked teeth.

"You...you've been drugged. This—I—this is not what you want. Get off." He tried to keep his tone gentle. Hermione looked panicked.

"No! Don't—Severus—this is what I want. You are what I want." She snatched her hands back.

"I can smell the bloody lust potion on you," he said quietly. She could nearly see his heart breaking, and it was killing her. Damn it, why couldn't this be easy? Just once, something with Severus Snape should be easy. Just bloody once.

"So give me the antidote," Hermione urged. She didn't doubt that she'd been dosed. It certainly made sense, given how quickly she went from 'hi' to 'let's snog' to 'ooh, yes, take your clothes off'. But snogging and getting him naked were frequently on her mind. Carefully, she scooted until she could stand as he held her wrists. He released her, the muscle at his jaw jumping. "Any antidote for anything you want, Severus. I'll take it."

When he remained seated, she moved to his armchair and sat demurely, though she ached to be close to him again, to run her tongue down... Get a grip, she told herself. Antidote and reassure him first, then jump him.

Severus rose and pulled his shirt back on. Stiffly, he did up the buttons, though to her relief did not put on his frock coat. "I should have something," he said. She could hear the distance in his voice and she grew even more determined to put this to rights even if she had to tie him to his bed to get him to believe she truly desired him. "Wait here."

Hermione fidgeted as he left the room, watching his arse. Merlin, he was sexy.

Severus retched bile again into his sink, his hands shaking. No, no, no, no. It was ruined. Everything was ruined. Damn those books, damn his students, and damn whatever horrible curse dangled over his head determined to ruin every fucking good thing in his life.

She was drugged, had bloody touched his desk while staring at and talking to him. And he had nearly...

He took deep breaths through his nose and rinsed his mouth. Long, slow breaths. Counting the seconds, he tried to focus, to retreat behind the safety of familiar Occlumency walls. He managed it, and was thankful that at least he wasn't spying any longer. He would be dead on the spot.

Once certain that his breath was no longer odious, he looked at his reflection. Unhappy. Haggard. Pinched. Scowling. He stared into his own eyes, searching for the tiny battered spark of hope that he had had since she had lost her temper and kissed him.

And he couldn't find it. Was it gone? Or had he pushed that back behind his shields rather than his despair?

He told himself rather desperately that Hermione loved him, cared for him. She had said it. He saw it in her mind when she smiled at him, her thoughts unguarded now. He couldn't bring himself to say the words back; he wanted to, needed to, as if the words were a spell to bind her to him, but they would not pass the lump in his throat.

Severus frowned at himself in the mirror and wrenched it open to reveal the cluttered shelves behind it. It didn't take him long to find the bottles he sought, and he checked the expiry dates out of reflex more than anything else.

He returned to his sitting room to find Hermione where he had left her, just as topless as he had left her, and he thought that the beige lace bra was rather fetching on her. Her lips parted as if to speak and he raised a hand.

"I have two antidotes I wish for you to take," he said. Was that a quaver in his voice? "One is for the potion you were dosed with by my desk, the other is a more...general antidote for anything you may have been given within the past few months."

She looked hurt but nodded understandingly, and used a strong Cleansing Charm on her hands to rid herself of any contact with the lust potion.

"I would rather sit in silence once you have taken them," Severus continued. "Their effect should be within five minutes. If after that time, you wish to continue, we shall. If you wish to go...I will neither stop you nor hold it against you."

Hermione nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

He Levitated the vials to her and she downed them both quickly with a grimace.

Severus seated himself on the sofa once more. The silence was unbearable, but it was better than listening to her protestations. He had to know. He needed to know, and she understood. She was Hermione, after all.

The clock above the mantle ticked quietly, the low fire left burning on the hearth occasionally crackled or popped, and they both watched the time go by or stared at the upside-down smut book as if desiring to burn the publisher's address and those strange little s' as well as the detailed (yet tasteful) drawing of Potter being photographed into their brains.

Severus tensed as the minute hand indicated that the fifth minute had been reached. Hermione turned to him.

"Severus, I..." she hesitated and his heart cracked. "...I don't want to go."