AN: As usual, this would only make a fraction of the sense it does without the editing talents of Havelocked, friend of the semicolon and expert comma wrangler.
Severus awoke from a strange dream, aching all over. It was something about being pummeled by flowers, ones that should not have hurt nearly as much as they did. He was back in his bed, and the light angling in from the crack in his curtains suggested that it wasn't much past dawn. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he stretched. His arms were marked with many pink lines, and he knew that his legs and hips would be as well. He rubbed at his belly with an absent minded touch and found it to still be tender there, in spite of the burn ointment he had applied prior to bed last night.
Ducking down, he pulled out today's gift from under his bed. He hoped fervently that she would like the enchanted slippers. He must thank Conrad for contriving to lure Hermione into T&Ts, although the entertainment that was to be had at his expense probably more than amply paid off that karmic balance.
Feeling optimistic, Severus penned a note to Hermione, inviting her on a special date that evening. Archimedes was already waiting for him on his perch, stretching his wings, and blinking, as if to say, "Well, get on with it, man!"
Adding a few more lines, he brought it to a close and secured his note to the box, taking it over to the waiting courier. His eagle owl was up to the task, but Severus placed a lightening charm on the box in case. It wouldn't do to have the box dropped into the lake.
That done, he turned his mind to more mundane affairs and readied himself for the workday. Today was destined to be another day of hard labour, cleaning out the classroom. He had been through the stockrooms, so now he was to focus on the equipment. The elves were good hearted, hard workers, but they didn't seem to understand all of the subtleties. He allowed them to help clean everything else, of course, and they could do the second wash after his first go around with all of the glassware. In darker times he might have looked for and found students to help him in this task, but in many ways now the work was a balm for his spirit.
Dressed in old white shirtsleeves and ratty black pants, he looked himself over in the mirror. After a moment's hesitation, he passed over the silver hair tie from Hermione and tied his hair back in a black leather thong. Ramming his feet into workboots he trudged down to the great hall for breakfast.
Conrad was seated at the main table along with Minerva and ... good lord. Sybil? There was a seat left open next to Minerva. The other option, aside from being completely antisocial would be to sit next to the near-sighted seer.
Rolle spotted him first over his paper, "Ah, Severus. Good morning to you." There was some sort of warning in the way he stared at him, eyes widening ever so slightly.
Severus' morning ablutions had included, in addition to a hasty shower and shave, the reassertion of his mind disciplines. Therefore, he was not able to catch whatever it was that Conrad was trying to tell him.
"And you, Conrad." He nodded curtly to the others in turn, "Headmistress, Sybil." It was then that he noticed that Minerva looked as though she had sucked on a lemon. She was glaring at him, eyes narrowed. Angry.
"Severus. Sit." The Headmistress tapped on the chair next to her. Sybil was looking pretty good now, actually. Pity.
Severus dropped into the chair, watching Minerva's eye twitch. If she had turned that glare on anyone else, he might have found it vaguely comical. As it was, he kept his mouth shut and waited for the axe to fall.
The Headmistress spoke. "So. Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Severus?" That sounded rather like he was already tried and convicted in absentia.
His eyes raked the paper, wondering if there was anything in there. Did someone see what happened last night? Worse, did they photograph them in battle? The blood drained from his face. He'd taken them to a town he knew to be populated by labourers, no one would have been awake. Above the paper, Conrad's head shook very slightly. A wave of gratitude washed over him and he took in a breath, ready to answer, although he had no idea of what to say.
Minerva cut him off, "I can see you have a guilty conscience, Severus. What in Merlin's name were you thinking? To give Professor Granger such a gift, and then to blithely let her wear it as a hair ornament in ignorance?"
Severus swayed under the force of the admonition, "It was... an uncomfortable situation..."
Teaspoons leapt and cups sloshed over as the Headmistress' fist banged the table to emphasize each word. "Of. Your. Own. Making. Severus!" Some of her hair came loose from her bun as she shouted. It was a loss of control that he hadn't seen from her in quite some time.
He had no chance to get a word in edgewise as the angry woman forged on, "Worse, Professor Granger found out as I did, from the lips of Peeves."
Severus' heart shuddered to a halt. "Shite." He closed his eyes, as though that might shut out the shame of it.
"I am ashamed of you, Severus Snape. 25 years I've known you and I've never seen you act in such a…" Minerva seemed to mull over options before spitting out, "... an inappropriate manner. If this had happened while school was in session I'd have hung you by your ears."
Suppressing a groan, Severus looked at Minerva, as surely that wasn't all she was going to say on the subject.
Minerva was turning her attention back to her breakfast, her fork stabbing at the egg on her plate, causing it to bleed yellow all over her sausage. "I have managed to place a hex on Peeves that should prevent him from repeating the lewd verses to anyone who may listen." She looked back up at him gesturing with her fork, which flung the piece of egg into Trelawney's hair. "I don't know how you are going to make it up to Hermione, but you'd better think fast. Jewelry. Flowers. Poetry. You're lucky you've retained all of your limbs so late in the day as it is."
A spark of rebellion kindled in Severus' chest. Sensing that the Headmistress was winding down now, he said, "You know, Minerva. I really think it is time that you revamp your House's sexual education curriculum. I would be happy to lend you the notes that I've been using for the past fifteen years."
Leaning away from Severus, Minerva glared at him. "Don't you dare make this out to be MY fault."
Realising that this is exactly what it sounded like, he held up a conciliatory hand and answered, "I only wish to point out, Minerva, that I cover these issues with all of my students by their sixth year as there is a high likelihood that they will be encountering spells, enchantments, and items that could prove dangerous to the ignorant." His eyes flashed, "Of course, perhaps you prefer the word innocent."
Minerva worked her mouth up and down, looking like a trout. Severus arched a brow and summoned over two slices of toast and a rash of bacon. He could eat this on the move. He had some serious damage control to do.
"Why, I never…" The Headmistress spluttered.
Severus stood up, using his considerable height as a dramatic tool. "You never thought that your precious cub would get caught up with a Slytherin like me? It happens, Minerva. Knowledge is power. I prefer to send my students to battle their passions fully armed, you see." He looked away, guessing at where Hermione might be right now. Library. He'd bet his eye teeth on it.
He drained a goblet of water, wincing as the cold hit his throat. Chancing a look at Conrad, he found himself to be the subject of a speculative look. No longer cowed, Severus met Conrad's eyes and smirked before giving voice to his thoughts, "If you'll excuse me, it appears I have a class to teach. Good day to you all."
Not waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and walked out of the hall, taking a large bite out of his bacon butty. He could hear the Headmistress chiding, "Professor Rolle, get a hold of yourself! This isn't funny!"
"Oh, yes it is, Minerva!" Conrad's laughing voice carried across the empty chamber, "What I'd give to be a fly on the wall for that lesson." With that, the blonde man broke down in cascades of unrestrained laughter, the kind that rob one's breath and bring tears to the eyes.
Hermione hadn't rested on her laurels. She'd been to the library first, naturally, to see what she could find. Hogwarts possessed a surprisingly robust selection of reference material addressing magical sexual aids and enhancers. It took her longer than she expected to find the appropriate volumes as all of it was in the Restricted Section, behind an ageline. Perhaps the reason she hadn't noticed it before was that the bulk of the selections were divided out into Professorially assigned extended reading lists. For this delicate subject there was one for each house. A quick perusal revealed that there were startling differences in the curriculum set by the course master for each house.
Madam Pomfrey had been solely responsible for the meager curriculum offered to the Gryffindors, so that section was rather cold and clinical, with several excellent volumes detailing sexually transmitted jinxes as well as contraception.
The books set aside by Professor Sprout were extremely graphic in a disturbingly practical way, showing normal appearing people of all shapes and sizes getting it on with vigor. Hermione almost dropped the book when she flipped the page and was confronted with an abnormally large penis that rose up from the page. The caption read, "Practice placing the condom on the model until you are comfortable."
Hermione darted a look around the room to assure that she was alone first, before lifting a single finger that gingerly poked at the 'model.' It sprung back, surprisingly pliant. She did it again. The thing made no sound, but she found herself whispering, "Boing!" Curious, she closed the book, and then opened it to the same page, and out sprung another erect cock, but she was fascinated to see that it was different than the previous one. The caption read, "Human, uncircumcised." Brow knitting together, Hermione closed the book, and again checking to make sure no one else was observing her, she pulled the book open once more. This time, it was big enough that she whapped herself on the chin with it by accident. This one read, "Half giant." Underneath someone had scrawled in, "Mind the fap." Shutting her eyes against the image, she tried to deny the inevitable connection with Hagrid.
"Ugh. I'm pathetic." That same dirty part of her mind flashed the fleeting glimpse of Severus' own generous offering. She'd had to fill in the gaps with her imagination, but it was very much "up for the task." She closed the book and bonked her forehead on it several times. "Stop. That. At. Once."
Ears red, cheeks blazing with embarrassment, Hermione thumbed through the book to the next section. The next chapter featured a shockingly large model of the female anatomy. A slip of paper was stapled into the page sternly warning readers that they may only touch with their fingers, which was disturbing enough. Worse, the note went on to say that the book was hexed against meddling and overt familiarity with the model.
Shuddering, she flipped through the rest of the book and found a liberal selection of suggested charms and potions for lubrication. A frank discussion surrounding the subject of virginity and expectations for the first time on both sides of the aisle captured her interest. She skimmed through, finding it mirrored much of the intelligence that she already gathered.
A second volume attracted her attention on the Hufflepuff roster, one that delved into gender and sexuality. At first blush it appeared to be a rather dry text, suitable for a University course, but as she glanced through she noticed sections detailing potions, spells, and magical objects all intended to alter their user's gender. Anecdotes about magical beings that seemed to lack gender were included as well as folklore about gender swapping. There was a note scrawled onto the front page directing the reader to come and discuss these issues in greater depth with Professor Rolle at any time, no questions asked. Hermione was surprised: given how bold Connie was, she had always assumed she was a Gryffindor.
It struck her how kind that was. And brave.
Professor Flitwick's group was a rather inclusive multivolume Encyclopedia of World Sexual Customs. Initially the format intrigued Hermione as it followed an alphabetical organization scheme that appealed to her organised mind. Ten minutes later after following eleven separate, "See same subject under a different name," entries, Hermione flipped to the introduction, looking for clues on how to use the book. Moments later she snarled, "Supercilious prig of a book!"It turned out that the books had been keyed to measure the level of sexual experience of the reader, and provided a guided selection of readings deemed appropriate by the Encyclopedia's editors. Apparently even a dusty sex book in the shelves of Hogwarts thought it knew better than she did. She shoved the volume back onto the shelf in disgust.
Giving up on Ravenclaw's reading list, Hermione hesitantly sought out the shelf that bore the books reserved for Professor Snape's students. Frowning, Hermione cast a quick Specialis Revelio, and was glad she had. Several of the books were hexed, and she had no intention of giving away her clandestine perusal of Slytherin's House recommended reading. Resentment seeded itself in her belly. Why had Professor McGonagall left everything to Poppy Pomfrey? Hermione sincerely doubted that the aging witch could remember the last time she had seen a willy for recreational purposes. Hermione felt her mood dip as she recognised that the mediwitch might well still be every bit as inexperienced as Hermione herself was.
Hermione navigated through the complicated tangle of hexes and enchantments laid on that last shelf before she found a volume on Magical Marital Aids. She didn't expect much, the title was awfully stuffy and perhaps that is why she thought it might not be too dangerous for her. The book was stunningly illustrated, and boasted a wide variety of magical artifacts, potions, and charms. Each section included clear warnings on what to watch for with possible cursing or enchantments, and dangers in its intended use. This was the first place that she had found 'cock ring' with a robust, well written entry all of its own.
Satisfied that she'd found the reference she needed, Hermione pulled over a stool and devoured the entry, start to finish, taking her time and weighing every point. She had plenty of time. It was five in the morning, and she needed to come to a decision on what to do.
Severus stalked the aisles of the library, scouring the Restricted Section first and quartering the rest of the stacks when he failed to find her. Every book was in order, to his disgruntlement. Next, he checked the Ancient Runes classrooms, Transfiguration Hall, the Owlery, and the Astronomy tower. No Hermione. Inspiration struck, as he thought of other places she might be. He had a bone deep certainty that she was somewhere in the castle still.
He stalked up to the sixth floor and found the spot, walking past it three times, thinking of Hermione. A worn looking wood door appeared, the entrance to the Room of Requirement. With his heart leaping up into his throat in mingled hope and anxiety, he pulled the door open. Therein he found himself in a small room, lined with carts of Relationship Help Books, such as 'Apologies for the Uninitiated,' 'What To Expect When She Has Expectations,' and 'Late Bloomer's Guide to Romantic Repartee.' Severus flipped through and determined that there was little therein that was beyond the usual advice: He should throw himself on her mercy at the earliest opportunity, apologise until she seems satisfied, take whatever abuse that is provoked without complaint, and for Merlin's sake, man! Take care never to do anything so stupid again.
On top of a pile of books of romantic poetry he found an address book of useful contacts: chocolatiers who deliver by owl post, romantic magical getaway trips that looked promising, florists, and a jeweler's catalog. There was even a listing for kneazle breeders of all things.
A quick survey of the other offerings included a trundle bed, a trunk with a ditty bag and a neatly folded change of clothes. Definitely no Hermione here.
As he turned to head back out to the Hallway, he noticed a small table positioned right by the door. It was draped in black and held a single slim volume: "Old Bachelor Homes for Dunderheaded Wizards: An Exhaustive Review." He took care to steer clear of that one.
Severus spoke to the room, pocketing the address book as he did so. "Thank you for your assistance. Now I just need to find her." The wall next to the door bled blurry color, like lines of tea on a paper napkin, which focused and sharpened into a line map of the castle. There upon it blossomed a little heart shaped icon made out of Hermione's name, and it floated back and forth inside of his own office. She was there, waiting for him. "Right. Here I go… wish me luck."
Letting himself out, he broke into a run, anxious to make it down to her before she gave up on him. Portraits lining the staircases murmured comments as he passed, shouting in surprise and concern. Severus waved them down without explanation in his haste.
Down in the Great Hall, Conrad sat with his tea, watching the ceiling for signs of the squall that was sure to come in spite of his equations predicting a perfectly clear morning.
Professor Granger paced back and forth over the worn flagstone of Professor Snape's cluttered office. Apparently you could take the Snape out of the dungeon, but you could not take the dungeon out of the Snape. She was angry, of course. Who wouldn't be? But the fact of the matter was that she was mostly angry with herself. In her intellectual arrogance Hermione thought she had caught up with her wizarding brethren in all walks of magic, that she had cast off her muggleborn handicaps by hard study and observation. All it took was a romantic, albeit provocative, gesture by a real wizard misinterpreted as mere jewelry and two hours of research to open her eyes to a vast untapped body of knowledge that she'd not even dreamt about. She had only begun to plumb the breadth and depth of her own ignorance.
The humiliating part was not that Connie knew, or that she had worn the damned thing in front of her own parents. It was that her own failure of imagination was thrown back into her face, and it was announced to the castle at large by none other than Peeves. She had all night to think on what to do about Severus' part and had come to a conclusion. Now all she had to do was wait.
Warm even through the back pocket of her jeans, the weight of the metal ring pulled at her attention. It thrilled her, fascinated her, pulled her beyond her own boundaries. Severus had been listening when she spoke about the qualities a good gift possesses. Even if she was furious with him, she still wanted to know him better.
She came to a stop by the wall of preserved specimens, closing her eyes and exerting control over her breathing. It had been difficult to sleep last night, and she was still cycling through a tumult of emotions, processing. After a moment, she opened her eyes to find herself eye to eye with what must have been a murtlap once, a rather large one. The wave of nausea hadn't passed completely when she heard the door creak open behind her. Showtime.
Snape cautiously opened the door to his office, uncertain as to what he would find. His shields were up once more, he had to spend a considerable amount of time meditating before he could fall asleep last night, and this morning it was a painstaking but necessary process to rebuild them. If he hadn't almost killed the both of them with his instability, he'd have lowered them now. The ethics of such use of his passive receptive abilities had long since eluded him, but something told him that until Hermione gave him explicit permission, he'd best not yield to that particular temptation.
His resolve almost broke at once on seeing the sickened look on Hermione's face when he entered. He had talked himself into believing that she might forgive him, that they'd be able to laugh about this. Last night's unforgivable lapse of control was forgiven readily enough, was it not?
Not wishing for a silence to build up between them, Severus opened his mouth and began, "Hermione, I'm sorry."
Hermione was dressed in her muggle clothes and her hair was pinned back away from her face, the heavy mass of curls trailing down her back. A telling circular bulge in her back pocket drew his eye and it was a force of will to rip his eyes away from her tempting arse to bring them back to her face. Heat was high in her cheeks and a fire in her eyes as she held up a hand to stop him from going any further.
"There will be no foolish accusations or silly arguments in this relationship. As such, I don't expect that any wizard has mastered the subtle science or exact art that is required to fully understand me." She stepped toward him, "However, you…" She reached up and grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly, "... seem to have the predisposition." The grip about his neck set the nerves under his healed wounds jangling with pain and confused pins and needles.
Severus felt light headed as she turned him about and pushed him into the chair he kept in front of his desk for visitors. Usually offending students. There was something familiar about the cadences in Hermione's voice. Is this how she spoke to her class?
Before he could open his mouth to respond she released her grip, her eyes fixed and intent, capturing his own gaze and not letting go. Yes. He'd do anything to stay prisoner to this witch.
"You already know how to bewitch my mind and ensnare my senses." She closed her eyes, and an alarming expression of pain crept onto her face. "I've been able to think of nothing else for days, and that's without even touching your wand."
Severus held his breath, waiting, as it was clear that she had not finished having her say.
"As wizards and heroes of the war, between the two of us we've seen enough of bloody fame, glory and death. We understand one another on a level that I doubt either of us could ever achieve with anyone else." She lifted her eyes to his, a hardness creeping into her voice as she went on, "Then again, perhaps one of us suffers from overconfidence."
Shit. Shit. Shit. "Hermione, I… "
She cut off his breath with a sharp gesture of her hand, and Severus felt a hot breeze blow past, stirring his hair.
"You are not the usual... what word do you like to use...? Ah yes. Dunderhead. You are not the usual dunderheaded wizard I've had the misfortune to date. Why, Severus? Why would you allow me to cavort about with that in my hair? What did you think I'd do if you spoke up last night?" She growled, "Connie tried to warn me."
It hit Severus then. The honest answer in its entirety. "I didn't want to upset you before we went to meet your parents, Hermione. I was going to tell you after, but you know what happened there." He flexed his wand hand, the livid pink scar there still aching like the rest of him. "Forgetting that, in a way, the ring was a sort of test. I wanted to give you more than flowers, pretty words, and humor, because those are pale shades compared to the full depth of what I feel. At the same time, I didn't want to go too fast for you. So I slipped it onto the bouquet and waited for you to discover it. It was a cypher meant to fascinate and delight you." His shoulders slumped, "I had no idea, no notion, that you'd think it was meant for hair. And to have that particular conversation with you, to enlighten you as to what that was at that particular moment in time seemed impossibly foolish." He sighed, "I am frightened, Hermione."
A glance up showed him that his witch - or he hoped she still was - was still very, very, very angry. Cursing himself for being a fool who didn't bother to lay down carpet, he slipped out of his chair and down onto one knee. He couldn't look at her for this part, but he wouldn't let things end on that admission. "I have been admiring you from afar since you took up the Ancient Runes post. When Remus Lupin declared you the brightest witch of your age, he only paid you a fraction of the recognition you came to deserve later. You are loyal, honest, and truly kind hearted. There are few people that understand my jokes, who are willing to get past my particularly prickly ways to meet me in a rational discussion. Your society has been a revelation, an oasis in the desert."
He shook his head, "There aren't many people, much less witches out there who have the strength of mind and the courage to push back." He dry swallowed, taking her silence as an invitation to go on, "I know I am not much to look at. I'm old and broken down, and some days my moods render me completely unfit for polite society. Until I met you, I'd all but resigned myself to the life of an eternal bachelor." The guide to Homes for Dunderheaded Bachelor Wizards flashed in his inner vision. "I dare to hope for more, with you."
That cold stone floor was seeping its chill into his bones. "The very idea of losing your good regard frightens me more than the certainty of death. I am sorry, Hermione. Truly." He reached out a hand, in supplication and was surprised when a smaller hand took it. Lifting his eyes to hers, he was quite alarmed to see tears streaking the witch's face. Hermione's fingers spasmed in his hand, pulling up with insistence.
Severus stood up stiffly, lifting his other hand to brush away tears from Hermione's face. She was a distressed mess and her nose looked like it was swelling, reddening like a tomato. He didn't carry a handkerchief. He whispered, "Winky? Handkerchief please?" He reached down and felt a square of linen press into his left hand. "Thank you." He swallowed and used it to mop her face. A moment's hesitation preceded his attentions to that nose, but she released his hand to take over. She turned away, producing a sound that he imagined a lady-like elephant might use to call to the herd.
Winky was shifting a heavy tea-tray onto his desk and gifted Severus with a suspicious glare. "Is Headmaster wanting ought else?" Her tone suggested that she'd be willing to treat him toa bludger to his skull if only he'd ask nicely.
"Another fresh handkerchief, if you please. That will be all, Winky."
Frowning at him in open disapproval, she produced another folded white square of linen and pressed it into his hand. With that she winked out.
Hermione took the fresh cloth, banishing hers with a perfunctory swish of her wand and muttered incantation. As she finished mopping herself off, Severus poured tea out for both of them. He appreciated the hint from the house elf, in spite of the side of guilt that came with it. "Tea, Hermione? Just milk, if I recall?"
Her voice shaky, Hermione answered, "Oh yes, please. Lovely idea."
As he handed her the cup, she said, "You know, I'm still angry with you."
Severus' heart sank lower. Somehow it had managed to creep back up into his chest from its former residence around his knees. Well, who was he to deny her that right? He took up the second cup, no additives. He'd developed a preference for straight tea out of paranoia and never saw fit to change. "I understand."
Visibly calmer, she hitched up a hip and perched on his desk. After taking a sip of tea, she delivered her challenge. "I will allow you to make amends tonight."
Hope lent him wings to fly right into her web. "Of course. I thought we could go to this little place for dance lessons. They've a course, six classes in all. Secrets of Swaying." It occurred to him that it was perhaps a selfish plan, as he wanted nothing more than to gather the little witch into his arms and swing her about until she was dizzy with delight. "If that is agreeable? With dinner after?"
Hermione's eyebrows lifted and her voice held an ironic edge, "That does sound appealing. I will of course attend with forgiveness in my heart but only on one condition." Her eyes glinted with wicked intent and she slipped a hand into her back pocket.
Not finding a ready reply, Severus took a sip from his own cup, sluicing the hot astringent liquid in his mouth, waiting for her to expand upon her previous statement. Her next words left him coughing and sputtering.
"That you wear this the whole night, in its proper anatomic position, until I am satisfied that you have paid your penance." She was holding up the cockring between thumb and forefinger.
After a good deal of clearing of his throat, Severus reached out to retrieve the offending object. Hooking two fingers through it, he recalled his earlier promise to fill in the gaps in the Gryffindor witch's education. "All five rings, or did you have something specific in mind?"
Hermione released the ring, the warm weight of it comforting in his hand. "Five? I saw the dragons." Her eyes widened, "There actually are five entirely separate rings?"
Unable to resist a bit of theatre he ran the ring over his knuckles as a muggle charlatan might a coin. The second time around, he twisted just so, causing each separate hoop to fly off to be caught by fingers on his other hand, where they adjusted to size. "Each has its own enchantment, its own use. As it was, only the red, the warming charm was active." He held up his middle finger, showing her the red gem at the dragon's eye.
Once again a student of sorts, Hermione was intensely attentive. Darting a glance up at him she uncurled her fingers to brush at the metal. "I noticed it was warm. Rather good idea." Her eyes crinkled up at him in amusement, "Wouldn't want you to be cold." She tapped it, and the temperature increased.
Squinting at her he twisted the ring on his forefinger about to reveal the blue gem on it. "Careful. It could become too hot in here for decency." A tap on the second ring activated it, cooling the metal against his finger. "This one is for coldplay."
Bolder, Hermione didn't hesitate before touching this time. "That is rather different." She shivered, and the hairs on her arms were standing on end. Withdrawing her hand she looked up at him with wide eyes. "And people like that?" The unspoken more personal question hung in the air between them like the first snowflake of the season, crystalline and full of potential.
In answer, Severus reached out with that finger and traced Hermione's jaw with the lightest touch. He could feel her tremble under him, so sensitive. "Yes." He watched her process this from under hooded eyes.
He could barely hear her whisper, "Tell me more."
"Green alters the taste. The black delays gratification."
A succession of changes in her expressions as he spoke gave him a sense of her reaction. She licked her lips and turned away, disengaging in favor of retrieving her cup of tea. Disappointment crept in, and Severus sought to bring this back to a more intellectual level. "Chinese myth speaks of five demons who would seduce mortals in exchange for blessings. It is thought that a clever Chinese magical artificer was responsible for those stories, and it was each of these enchantments that allowed the man to become a sexual demon."
Eyes shining with interest, Hermione asked, "And I am to believe that you have some skill, some mastery in the use of these rings?" She took a step closer and once again reached out to touch his ring-heavy left hand, holding it up before her, watching the air around his forefinger condense in a fog.
Finding his mouth unaccountably dry, Severus swallowed before answering. "I will not claim to be a master. An enthusiastic amateur, perhaps."
She tapped the green-eyed dragon on his ring finger. Holding his gaze she brought his hand closer to her face, sniffing the digit that now seemed to shimmer with shards of green light that winked in and out. Before his befuddled brain could respond, she tentatively licked the sensitive fingertip. Her tongue was warm and wet, and he watched as her lids lowered in appreciation. "Delicious."
Before he could stop her, she took the finger more fully into her mouth and he found that he couldn't breathe, much less talk. His legs underneath him felt like rubber and he leaned back, using his desk to keep him from falling to his knees in front of this witch for a second time today. His free hand frantically clutched at the edge as the traitorous furniture scooted back half an inch under the clumsy force of his impact, but then held.
Drawing it out, Hermione slowly released his finger with a popping sound as the seal broke. "I like that one." She seemed to notice his general state of arousal all at once, her eyes darting down to the crotch of his trousers, where his erection was clearly visible. "Oh. Well." Her eyes sparkled and he could tell that she wasn't entirely sorry for teasing him.
Severus breathed, regaining some control of his body. The witch's touch was dizzying.
"And the white, what does it do?"
His voice sounded distant, alien to his ears as he heard himself answer. "Tickler, it vibrates."
"And what did you say about the black again? I don't think I caught that."
Cracking under the intense pressure, Severus took his hand back before she could activate both. "It does exactly what I said. It changes specifically to delay satisfaction for the wearer as long as it is activated. It increases the intensity of the orgasm in the end." As he spoke, he tapped each ring, deactivating them in turn, causing them to release into his waiting palm.
Tilting her head, Hermione's concerned voice floated through. "Doesn't that hurt?"
Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Severus took his time before answering. "Pain can be used to heighten pleasure, Hermione. In this case, the wearer can disengage or adjust at will, and all of the rings will shut down should the wearer lose consciousness." He kept his gaze averted, jingling the rings in his right hand, rearranging them into the single ring that was presented to her yesterday morning. It felt like a fortnight passed in the interim, not a mere day.
The little witch stepped over to him and reached up, gripping his face in both of her soft, warm hands. She didn't need to drag his eyes back to hers. Every sense he had was finely attuned, attending to her and her alone. The proximity was intoxicating. "Severus, you are not to allow yourself to come to serious harm tonight."
A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. "No stomach for pain?"
The fingers gripping his face tightened and her eyes narrowed in irritation. "Don't mock me. Aren't you in enough trouble as it is?"
Swallowing, Severus nodded, a single precise movement. "You are right, of course."
Hermione's blinding smile in response lifted his spirit as she patted the side of his face. "Good. I'm glad we could agree to that so early in the day."
The corners of his lips curved up in response. Well, he would grant her that for today, and why not?
A line of tension appeared between her eyebrows before she said, "You know, sitting down you are still almost too tall." She released his face and stepped closer, nudging his leg out of the way.
Severus stiffened, surprised as Hermione wrapped her arms around him. "Hermione?"
"Shut up, Severus. I need a hug."
Understanding now, he returned her embrace, gathering her in as she nuzzled into his chest. He could feel the tension of her shoulders, the muscles of her back under his hands, and remorse seeped in. How had he gone so wrong so quickly? And why had he been so lucky as to be given a chance for forgiveness? He kept her tight with one arm and used the other hand to gently rub her back.
A hum of approval greeted his ministrations and he could feel her slowly unwind.
Naturally, her head tucked into the side of his neck, and he didn't particularly care about the pricking of his scars from the weight. When she didn't give any sign that she had any intention of pulling away, he dropped a kiss on the top of her curly head and allowed himself to simply be grateful in the moment. His heart was full.
Downstairs in the Great Hall, faculty were trailing in for lunch. When the Headmistress entered she looked up at the ceiling and was surprised to see a bright, sunny sky more appropriate to June. Outside, it had been snowing all morning. Fluffy clouds floated past, and two swallows darted back and forth in a complicated aerial dance.
Within Minerva, hope shone as brightly. "Merlin and Nimue forfend. Someone's happy."
Connie walked up to Minerva and put an arm about her shoulder in a half-hug of shared mutual congratulation, also admiring the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall. "Things are looking up."
Upstairs, Peeves was whizzing about the library, searching for shelves with loose books. He delighted in chaos and noise, so he was having a wonderful time knocking books over like dominoes. All the while he was rehearsing his new song, inspired by things overheard lurking in the gables of the Headmistress' office.
Snape's nuts roasting on an open fire
Merlin's beard, what a huge nose
Howlers rain down via owls for hire
Even I liked him better in witch's robes
Nobody knows what they did under the mistletoe
Boy, that really ruined my night
Had to wash my eyes out with mint jello
I will still have nightmares tonight
I've heard that Potty's on his way
His knickers're in a twist, oy vey
Ronald Wheezer's making plans to spy
To see if Granger can make ol' batty cry
So I'm giving rare advice gratas
To any who's breathing or in the loo
Snape's mastery exceeds tangos and cha chas
I'd not mess with him if I was yooooou
NO, I'd not miss with him if I was yoooooooooou!
CRASH! There went an entire row of volumes on magical history.
Cackling, Peeves whizzed away, looking for another place to cause havoc.
Editorial Note: When I went back to review the manuscript with Havelocked, I noticed this scrawled in the margin.
Feminine handwriting, in pencil: Plus, as a drink rich in tannins, it would likely prevent absorption of some poisons.
Pinched masculine handwriting, in red ink: I would not recommend relying on such a contingency.
Penciled, now impossibly small, required use of a magnifying glass to read: Certainly not, but one must consider potentials when lacking a bezoar, and in pressing circumstances an astringent affect may prove useful, especially where alkaloids are responsible. I believe it has also been investigated with regards to certain snake venoms, and used traditionally against antimony and zinc. Naturally more specific treatments would be desirable, though it would be an interesting avenue to research, especially with regards to interacting with substances potentially slipped into said drink prior to consumption, and it might, perhaps, offer some first aid where it might otherwise be difficult to preserve life long enough for better treatment. Alas, suggestions in historical texts may remain little more, especially when volunteers to test things may be somewhat... unforthcoming.
Red ink: What if I offered you extra credit, you insufferable swot? There was a time when that would have been enough to soak your knickers I think.
Pencil: YOU are a git. Severus Snape is the most arrogant prat of a bull-pizzle that ever offended the halls of Hogwarts.
Red ink was used to X-out Severus Snape's name and Gilderoy Lockhart overwrote it.
Red ink: Although Delores Umbridge I think may also be ahead of me in the queue for sullying the honor of the school faculty.
Pencil: Fuck you.
Red ink: I'll allow it if you consent to dinner first? At that place in Chelsea?
Pencil: Unbelievable.
Red ink: Be ready at eight, I'll come find you.
Pencil: Wear the leather trousers and I might join you. Maybe.
Red ink: Deal.