DISCLAIMER:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Dumbledore smiled at him and shook his head, "Ah Severus, how I've missed your sense of humour."

"I wasn't joking."

"Oh I know my boy, neither was I? It is still very amusing how you are so rigid. A little flexibility could give you the world." And with that Dumbledore clasped both a startled Hermione's hand and Snape's elbow and with a quick incantation they apparated away.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

The Hall of Mysteries in the Ministry was as always a hall that happened to be mysterious. Atmospheric shadows clung to the walls and shifted about like lost figures from portraits following the small incongruent group of two wizards and one witch down to the Prophecy Room.

"Why doesn't the Ministry spend some of our tax payer money on adequate lighting?" Snape complained rubbing his arms and feeling the hairs on his legs stand to attention as they past another chilly dark doorway, "Or central heating?

"That would be too inviting," Dumbledore replied kindly, " We wouldn't want a tour group to find their way down here and think this was the way to the men's room. There are certain things down here that don't do well with sudden bursts of light or sprinkles of water."

Snape harrumphed and wiped his greasy hair out of his eyes pausing to appreciate the view of Hermione's swaying backside as she walked a few steps ahead of him. 'Muggle clothing certainly has some advantages', he mused, wondering at the same time where that thought had come from.

"Ah, here we are," Dumbledore smiled and indicated a door that led into a room lined with shelves and glowing glass jars that looked like remembrials. "You should be able to find your prophecy quite easily, they are stored alphabetically."

Hemrione immediately went to the shelves and studied the labels, moving along with practiced ease as if she were in a library scanning the shelves for an interesting book. Snape came up behind her, close enough for her bottom to nudge against him as she moved. Scowling he scrutinized the jars, his nostrils filling with her scent and his hands suddenly itching to rise up and grasp her waist as she went up on tiptoes to look at the top shelf. "Here," he gruffly reached past her to retrieve a jar, "This is it."

He handed it to her and instantly met her shy glance as she raised her face upward. Staring at each other they stood transfixed all thought and action fled in the rising tide of heartbeats and breathing. Gently Hermione lifted her hands and her fingers wrapped about the glass orb and pulled it from Severus' loosening grasp.

"Your nose is bleeding." She quietly noted and, dumbstruck, Snape saw her step away. He blinked, realized he was behaving as if he had been pole-axed.

"Thank you." He touched his face and muttering, extracted his wand to attend to the bleeding.

"The prophecy?" Dumbledore's voice reminded them they were not alone. "Would you like to open it Ms. Granger?"

Hermione managed to undo the lid and with a small whoosh Peeves cackling voice filled the air.

There was little surprise that it was a limerick of sorts. Rhyming puns about of owls, prions, research and a time traveling son. Onto to stuff of a plague to come and then what really seemed to be a political statement about how 'spectral beings' were outside the space-time continuum and therefore could perform divination because they were privy to the future, present and the past and it was in their celestial contract; except people got so wound about the whole haunting and scaring aspect they forgot about that one and assumed it was only for flighty gaudily dressed mortals… and finally descended into a hissing sound as if Peeves had formed a slow leak.

"What is he doing?" Hermione muttered, her hand rising to her breasts as the sound slowly slithered about her.

"I believe that's Parseltongue," Dumebledore glanced at her noting her respiration rate had quickened and glancing at Severus, saw that he too was flushed and vibrating with tension, "How very peculiar…" He blithely stated, "Didn't know Peeves spoke snake, did you Severus?"

Snape felt very odd- clammy, afraid, yet hopeful. He swayed drunkenly on his feet and shook his head to clear it, "No, no idea Head Master." His voice was unusually deep and throaty. He 'felt' rather than saw Hermione respond and was instantly inordinately proud that he could elicit such a response.

"What did he say?" Hermione came up beside him, invading his personal space and gripping his arm.

Severus gulped and looked down at her, aware that she dropped the wound glass orb from her hand, amazed by shock of feeling that skittered through him at her touch. She stumbled into him, pressing her firm body up against his, grabbing hold and hanging on to his arm, her breasts rubbing against his chest. "He said…" his mind blanked as she pressed into him again, his mouth suddenly dry, "that of all snakes in the world, one word amongst all others would set the story straight…"

She turned her flushed face up so she could look into his eyes, her own dark and heady, "What word?" she breathed.

"A triggering word…" He found his voice trailing off as he raised his hands and twined them into her hair, cradling her face, watching her mouth open and the pink tip of her tongue dart out to wet her lips. He tipped his chin just slightly, glimpsing Dumbledore smiling and not caring a jot, "between mates. One word… between us… to fix it all."

"If you'll excuse me…" The Head Master interrupted, but it was as if had not spoken a word. "I should be going now."

"There's an 'us' to fix?" Hemrione asked, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Unless you prefer Filch?" he replied, the head of a decapitated snake could still bite.

"I'll drop an owl to Ms. Grangers parents, shall I?"

"The children liked Argus." Hermione explained, her other hand climbing up his chest, feeling the heat of him through the fabric of his shirt.

"And?"

"That's all, Severus," Hermione studied his face, reached up and smudged the last of the dried blood from his cheek, "I may call you Severus?"

He trapped her fingers in his hand and held them, staring into her eyes, "Certainly – Hermione."

She dropped her gaze and bit her lip, "What about your Amazonian research?"

"I have collected all the flora and fauna I require, the rest can be done in Britain. In fact, it would be better to work in Europe where the disease is most prevalent. There is the possible added bonus of one particularly intelligent and skilled witch being available to partner me?"

"So there is an 'us' to fix?"

"It would seem that destiny has presaged it."

"Oh…"

Dumbledore paused at the door. He could not mistake the note of disappointment in Hermione's voice and was dreading what Snape was going to say next.


Fortunately the limit on miracles in the Prophecy room had not been exceeded.

"Oh damnation! I mean…" Snape fumbled with his words, he could not tear his eyes away from the woman in his arms. Her scent filled his head making him dizzy. Her body fitted against his all curves and softness and her eyes, her lips… He stared at her lips… He wanted to feel those lips pressed against his and he was prepared to do anything to have that wish fulfilled, anything, even beg.

"Hermione?" Softly, almost grumbling, "Yes. If you'll have me?" 

Dumbledore did not wait for Hermione's answer. He went through the door and as he closed it called out, "Goodbye. I'll see you at Hogwarts in a week!"

Unfortunately once outside the room Dumbledore found a very cross Percy Weasley waiting for him. The young wizard stood with clipboard in hand, officious nose in the air and his wizard hat set to precise ninety-degree angle. "There are clear procedures for visiting this department, Professor Dumbledore." His voice was officious and self-important holding just enough crispness to one day promise to be glacial, "Where is the Ministry pensieve and the Officer of Spent Prophecies?  Can I see your section 34(a) and the accompanying pink form from the Minister?"

"Oh please! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Mr. Weasley." The Head Master patted the younger wizard on the shoulder and tried to steer him away.

Percy was not so easily duped, he shrugged off the old man's hand and stomped his foot, "I really must protest Dumbledore!"

"Please do. This way."

A muffled moan and the sound of deep laughter came from the other side of the door.

"What is going on in the Prophecy room?"

Dumbledore stopped and considered Percy over the rim of his glasses, "Really Mr. Weasley, do you think in all the years of our acquaintance I would allow it to be anything 'nasty'?"

Percy frowned at him, "Pardon?" Allowing himself in his befuddlement to be led away.

"Lemon drop?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the end

Thank you one and all.

Somehow I sense an 'epilogue' is required.