A/N: Baaaaack! :D Well, basically this chapter has romantic tension and
plot development. Yay plot development! Also, Fleab (Who is completely
and totally awesome and deserves all the cookies I could ever possibly
give) has done another picture for this story! Three cheers for Fleab,
because it's absolutely gorgeous, like all her other stuff is. The picture
is of Demi and his father, when Demi splashes himself with the rather nasty
potion from chapter six. It can be found, like the other one, at her yahoo
group Pseudologica Fantastica. I highly recommend you go and see it! Now,
onto the reading!
"I already did explain, Professor." Demitrius said innocently, clasping a hand against his chest and leaning forward, a hurt expression on his face. "Fitsgibbons attacked me. I was merely exercising my own self-defence." He told Hermione. Well, okay, so maybe he'd over-done the whole 'defence' part, but perhaps she would take that well. Some kind of zealousness for her subject? Demitrius sat back a little at the expression on her face. Somewhere between angry, amused, and extremely unconvinced. Well, it was worth a shot.
"Usually when someone attacks you, there is some sort of evidence to back that up." Hermione said, looking him up and down. It did look bad. There wasn't a single scratch on him.
"I have good reflexes." Demitrius said with a shrug. He received a rather sceptical glance, but Hermione's only comment was a slow 'hmm'.
"I wouldn't ordinarily believe you, but sadly, Mr. Fitsgibbons has something of a reputation. Still, I'll have to ask that you return his wand." She said, and Demitrius felt immensely relieved as he handed back the stubby piece of wood. Well, of course the oaf would have a reputation, he was a violent moron. But something in Professor Granger's face said she wasn't ready to let him go just yet. She lay the wand to the side of her desk, gnawing a bit at her lower lip. It looked as though she wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to. "I'll still give both of you detentions. Fighting in the hallways isn't something I can tolerate." She told him, but he knew that wasn't what she'd really wanted to say. What was it? Did she want to ask him why they'd fought? No, that would have been fairly easy to get around to.
"Of course. No more tolerable than staff members verbally battering one another in front of students, I suppose." Demitrius said, and couldn't keep his humour from shining in his eyes, even as the rest of his face remained cold and calculating. Hermione frowned at him, her guilt making her face turn a light pink. She was so easy to read it was funny.
"Ah, yes, well. That was inappropriate of me. I apologise." She said. Oh, this was perfect! She'd walked right into it, Gryffindor honour and blindness tagging along behind her. Demitrius allowed himself a little grin.
"No need to apologise to me, Professor." Demi said, and she smiled gratefully at him, but he was not finished. "I think you owe such words to Professor Snape instead." He supplied. 'Yes! Now, she'll go down there to say sorry, and, er, things will happen. Hopefully.' He thought triumphantly. Hermione looked like she'd just opened a carton of rotten eggs, after being told it was filled with candy.
"P-Professor Snape?" She squeaked, before regaining some of her composure. Demitrius suppressed a frown. Well, this was odd. The fighting thing was fairly standard, they did that all the time, and he'd heard her call his father worse things than a 'bat' before. But what was this? Fear? She, his mother, was afraid of Severus Snape? He blinked. 'Why on earth would she be scared of him?' He wondered. Gradually his rational, cold, calculating side (which had been getting a real work-out of late) started piecing things together. Point one, his father could be a creepy bastard when he tried. Point two, she used to be his student, didn't she? Point three, their romantic relationship hadn't started yet, and this could all very easily just be nerves. Somewhere in the back of his head, however, the inner child which he had locked in a box and buried after his twelfth birthday was banging around, going 'No way, Mommy loves Daddy, she couldn't possibly be scared of him. He wouldn't hurt her!'
Demitrius promptly summoned his inner shot gun and silenced the annoying voice. Of course, all the while this was going on he was simply watching Hermione serenely, as she tried not to pass out. "Yes, apologise to Professor Snape." He told her, and threw in a smile for good measure. She looked at him like he was absolutely insane before regaining her composure. Hermione straightened, and some of the colour returned to her face.
"I don't think that will be necessary." She said. Demitrius frowned.
"Really? You don't?" He asked her carefully, and watched as she visibly seemed to go over her thoughts. 'Come on, Gryffindors aren't that cold. Bravery, honour, she's going back to apologise or I don't know my mother.' He thought. Sure enough, he read the signs of her acceptance written on her face, shortly before her words confirmed it.
With a sigh Hermione leaned back into her seat. "Oh, alright, I'll apologise to Professor Snape." She relented. Ah, triumph. Demitrius suppressed his victorious grin. It wouldn't really do to arouse suspicions just yet. Unfortunately for him, he didn't notice the quick glare Hermione shot him, and was not expecting that she might have laid a trap of her own.
"So, what exactly were you and Professor Snape working on down there, since we're on the topic." She said, and got a very self-satisfied look to her face. Demitrius blinked. So, she thought she'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, did she? Demi was far from being nervous about this. That she asked him meant she hadn't gone straight to Dumbledore, which was he had been hoping for.
"Brewing potions, Professor, I would think an astute woman such as yourself could have seen that." He replied calmly. "Potions are something of a fascination of mine, you see." Demi added for good measure. Slow and steady. He'd reel her in by her suspicions, and trap her with her curiosity. It was almost evil how well he knew what would happen. The only obstacle could be her loyalty to Dumbledore, which he knew to be fairly sound, but that could be side-stepped with just a few carefully placed words. It wasn't like he planned to the old man harm or anything. 'Stopping his death. Now, there's a real challenge.' Demitrius thought. Murder was one thing, old age was something else entirely.
Hermione was looking unimpressed. "I think you know exactly what I meant, Mr. Septimus." She told him firmly. "Those potions were not your average variety of 'interested student doing extra credit' work, and even if they were, Severus Snape does not give extra credit." She told him. Demitrius smiled.
"Alright, you've caught me." He told her. Now, here was where he had to be careful. Divulge a little, but not too much. His look grew serious. "Professor, let me ask you something." He said, shifting a little in his seat to give her a very serious look. It was genuine; The cheerfulness was, and had always been, an act. Well, except for a few times. Hermione looked at him but said nothing. Demitrius lowered his voice. "What would you give to jump years and years ahead of Voldemort in developments? To learn spells and counter-spells that won't exist for more or less a decade?" He asked. Hermione looked at him sternly.
"That's immoral, and dangerous." She said.
"What if I told you it was worth it?" Demitrius asked. Okay, so, maybe he was pushing Dumbeldore's restrictions a little here. Well, to hell with the old man! If Demitrius was willing to risk his own existence by being here, a few rules certainly weren't going to stop him. He toyed with the idea of just outright telling her. Not about her being his mother, that wouldn't do, but about other things. Maybe just one. Maybe... He looked at the pictures on her desk again, his eyes landing on the image of her, the two Weasleys, and Potter on Christmas day.
Hermione followed his gaze, and worry flashed clearly across her features. Demitrius looked at her. Hmm, maybe he needn't say anything after all. She took in the picture a moment before looking back at him. "What are you asking, Mr. Septimus? That I turn a blind eye?" She asked, and Demi could tell he had her.
"Demitrius or Demi, please, we aren't in class. And I'm asking for your help." He said. "There are things I can and cannot say. I cannot tell you why your help is needed, or what will happen in week, or a month, or a year. But I can tell you I need it. I can tell you little things, about wards and hexes, innocent things. Things which could come from my own inspiration as easily as another time." Demitrius said, standing from his seat to wander her office as he spoke. He never liked sitting down much. Moving, standing, walking were better things. He stalked over to the book cases and looked at some of the photos there. More of Weasley and Potter, but also some of his grandparents, which were eerily still. Muggle photos. Bleh. There was one of his mother as Head Girl, talking avidly with Professor McGonagall, pictures of everyone important in her life. To her it was happy reminders. If Demitrius did nothing, it would some day become a shrine to what was lost.
"The war with You-Know-Who... It doesn't go well, does it?" Hermione asked. Demi frowned.
"I cannot say." He told her. Physically, he could, but right now he'd rather weave through loop-holes than outright tear down walls. It wouldn't do to have a man like Dumbledore opposing him, to compound the challenges he already faced.
"You're asking me to trust you. But, I don't even know you!" She said, more to herself than to him, and Demitrius could see the logic in her words. It didn't matter. Hermione would be in his corner now, it was as good as sealed.
"But you'll help me, won't you?" He stated more than asked. It was only a brief moment before she sighed, and tiredly nodded her head. Demitrius turned away from the bookcases. Well, that was one obstacle down, about ninety-million left to go. As well as whoever it was that wanted to get their hands on him.
~
To say the Severus Snape was in a foul mood would be like referring to a dragon as being 'not altogether cuddly'. A gross and very deadly understatement. Yesterday's events had left him drained, cranky, and filled with thoughts of Hermione Granger. Most of those thoughts had been the usual. Hexing her, cursing her, watching as she died in some horrible Potions accident of her own doing, re-living her graduation, but this time with her failing and Draco Malfoy NOT becoming a Death Eater. However, some of the thoughts had been far more unnatural, and that was what got him to his current state of ill-temper.
Why, oh why, did she have to be so fierce? Why couldn't her hair have stayed a great, uncontrollable bushy mess, instead of becoming thick and lovely with time? When had that girl learned to use a comb? Hormones. Snape didn't bother to hide his sneer of revulsion. She was the only woman, or person even, on staff aside from Snape was going grey or bald. Though by all rights his hair should be a shimmering mass of white strands by now, with all the stress he had endured over the years.
She had grabbed his hand. And he had, well, noticed something. He enjoyed her touch. A cool one, light and gentle against his own. 'Severus, this is twisted. She was your student.' He berated himself. But, try as he might, he couldn't manage to bring up that mental image of an eleven-year- old Granger. The closest he came was Hermione in her school uniform. Which really, really didn't help.
"Um, Professor?" A rather terrified sounding voice asked. Snape looked up from his desk into the tearful eyes of a Gryffindor first-year. Gods save them all from first-years.
"What?" He snapped. She flinched, as though he'd struck her, then turned and pointed out into the sea of students. It was then that Snape noticed a rather Longbottom-esque young man had successfully melted his cauldron and was looking absolutely petrified.
Snape stormed over, thoroughly humiliated the boy, handed out a detention, alleviated his house of the burden of several points, and at the end of it all felt a little better. The bell rang, the first years ran, and Snape allowed himself to forget Professor Granger and turn his mind to Potions instead. Young Mr. Septimus was, undoubtedly, brilliant. The odds of him being a spy had gone down a bit. Not because he was good at Potions, which was certainly no saving grace in that field, but because he had produced positive results. After the boy failed to turn up again the other evening Snape had bottled and stoppered the remaining fluids, labelling them and making note of what he'd gathered from the experience. He could present them to the Board of Potions Masters in a few months, at the international exposition. Typically he avoided the affair as he had no time for research, and was not, by nature, and overly social creature. Demitrius' list contained more potions even still. Their presentation would earn him great prestige, having so many new things all at once, and all with so much potential. But something had been nagging him at the back of his mind. Was this why the young man had shown him these potions? For prestige? To earn credit for the creations of others? It was a very Slytherin thing to do, and Snape held no contempt for such an act, he'd been planning on it himself. No worse than Gryffindors with their glory-hogging.
But the nature of the potions was somewhat concerning. It didn't take a brilliant mind to build a connection between all the liquids. Two poisons, an invincibility potion, an anti-vampire concoction, a cure for lycanthropy (which reminded him, he should get in touch with that idiot Lupin. Maybe Dumbledore would give him Granger's job. Probably not, but it was worth a try), and a variety of items designed for healing serious injury or causing serious damage. They were the potions of war. Nothing flighty or fanciful, no advanced love potions or anything frivolous like that. Nothing of the sort was even on the boy's list. It gave Snape a very foreboding feeling.
Of course, it could be that the boy simply preferred more serious types of concoctions. Snape could certainly understand that. But still, there was something in the air. Something intangible that seemed to flicker around the corners of his sense, whispering that there was more to this, as ludicrous as it sounded. And Snape had learned a long time ago not to ignore such warnings.
Classes came and went, as did lunch time, during which Snape decided to mark papers rather than endure the inane babble of his colleges. He didn't want to have to see her again, either. How could he have been so distracted as to burn his hand? It was sheer idiocy, he was behaving like a teenage boy. Or at least, behaving as he had when he in particular was a teenage boy. At least he wasn't salivating openly like most had a tendency to.
It was evening when, at last, the time came that he could no longer avoid Hermione Granger, as she came to him. Her head peered around the corner of the doorway, long, thick strands falling away from her face as she did so. Shadows of firelight danced across her face, and for a moment, Snape found himself noticing something odd. Cast in a different light she looked... Well, he didn't know what she looked like. Still the annoying Granger woman that she was. He shook his head. Cold shower, long rest, and this little problem would go as quickly as it had come.
"Professor? I hope I'm not intruding." She said politely. Snape grunted. Stupid question, of course she was intruding, bearing her presence into his domain. But there wasn't anything for it, so why bring up such an obvious topic? Foolish niceties. She knew perfectly well the only people he wanted to see less would be Potter, Weasley, or the Dark Lord himself. Hermione moved into the room slowly. Obviously, she wasn't looking forward to this any more than he was.
"Right then Granger, let's get this over with." Snape said. He didn't have the patience to spit 'professor' at her with his usual venom. Standing up from his seat, he began to make his way towards his office.
"Wait."
Snape stopped. He glanced over his shoulder, mildly surprised. Wait? What, did she have something to say? 'Yes, like stop ogling me you perverted old man, so I won't feel the urge to vomit when we work together any more.' His treacherous mind thought darkly. For, that would be her reaction, wouldn't it? Had she noticed his discomfort? Noticed him... Noticing?
"I would like to apologise." Hermione said, looking up from her shoes.
"What?!" Snape half asked, half snapped, he was so startled. Apologise? He was confused now, though he did not at all show it, towering like a great shadow in the dungeon's gloom. Hermione crossed her arms and met his gaze, as though facing an army of Dementors, all holding hockey sticks. (A/N Picture that, really, it's hilarious and somewhat spooky at the same time.)
"I would like to apologise." She repeated, a little more loudly and clearly than before. When it was apparent Snape wasn't going to say anything, she continued. "I shouldn't have fought with you infront of a student like that, it was unprofessional, even if you did make me angry." She said. Quiet loomed as her words sank in.
Snape looked at Hermione. Hermione looked at Snape.
"...Very well. I accept your apology." He said. She nodded, and in silence they made their way to his office.
~
"What do you mean, he won't be there?" Malfoy asked of the head in his fireplace, a distinctly displeased look marring his handsome features. Ethan Fitsgibbons looked as though he expected to loose that head, too, any minute now.
"Well, now, my son couldn't convince him..." Fitsgibbons began, before Malfoy waved him off in irritation. Wonderful. Not a single brain cell could be found in the entire Fitsgibbons family tree, he shouldn't have expected them to carry this out successfully. Like the Crabbes and Goyles their only use was as muscle, or occasionally money. But Malfoy had access to plenty of both. What he wanted was someone who could bring him that boy, for once he had him the Veritaserum would take care of all his troubling little questions.
It seemed the subtle approach wasn't going to work. "Your son is strong?" Draco asked. He barely registered the older man's nod, as he turned his back, leaning up against the beautifully carved fireplace. "And, does he have friends who would help him?" He inquired further. There was a pause.
"For money or advantage, but yes, he knows people." Fitsgibbons supplied. Draco frowned at the tones of his voice, simpering and lowly, and he knew what the man was saying. But he would not help him pay for bribes, now was a time for redemption, not alliance. Draco wanted something, and now either Fitsgibbons would deliver, or his fellow aurors would get a very valuable tip from an anonymous source.
"Make whatever arrangements you want. Get them to drag Septimus to Hosgmeade, if they must, but make certain they get him there. This is your last chance." He said, and before Fitsgibbons could say anything more, Draco dismissed him with a wave. Fitsgibbons murmured his farewells, and his head disappeared from the fireplace, flames crackling powerfully in it's wake.
"Draco? Who were you talking to?" A soft voice said from the doorway. Malfoy turned only slightly. A woman, pale and small, dressed in a soft pink night gown waited at the entrance to the sitting room. Her long blonde hair was loose, and unusually fluffy, falling around a fragile and pale face.
"It's nothing to concern you Annette. Don't ask such questions." Draco said, the warning clear in his voice. His new wife had no place meddling in the affairs of the Death Eaters, especially ones as intricate as this. He'd married her for a few reasons. Her cunning was not one of them.
Annette frowned a little, obviously displeased by his harsh words. She was a foolish and breakable creature. The perfect wife for a Malfoy, and Draco did not resent his father for arranging the pairing. The frown soon faded away into a light smile. "Why don't you come to bed now Draco? It's cold." She said coyly, moving towards him with delicate footsteps. Light as a feather. Her arms snaked around his waist, and he let them remain there.
"Perhaps I will."
~
"Carefully, Professor, or you'll knock some into the flame and ruin the burner." Snape warned, as Hermione gently stirred the bubbling potion. It was beginning to take on it's bluish tinge as Snape carefully added in the powdered moss.
"I'm being careful." Hermione replied. Overall, they'd managed to keep mostly civil around one another as they worked. They fell into a harmonious rhythm as each mind went over the steps of the potion, checking, altering, stirring and chopping, with a flare and brilliance of motion that often only came from years of companionship. Which, technically, could be said for them. 'I have known him for years, haven't I?' Hermione thought, as she glanced at the darkly handsome man beside her. She'd known him pretty much for as long as she'd known Ron and Harry, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and so many people who were fixtures in her life. But, for some reason it didn't feel that way. Maybe because she knew him, but she didn't really *know* him.
He was brilliant with Potions, but what did he do in his spare time? He was a spy, working against Voldemort. But did he have any friends? He was harsh, and judgemental. Did he judge himself as well? Living down here, in the cold dungeons, alone and uncaring. Why did he do it? By choice, or by circumstance? And why did she want to know all of a sudden?
"Watch it!" Snape hissed suddenly, as without thinking Hermione moved her stirring rod a little too quickly, and a light drop of liquid swished over the side and onto the fire. There was a loud 'pop' as it hit the flame, and a bright flash. With a surprised squeak Hermione moved back. Her shoes skidded on the smooth surface of the dungeon floor, and she crashed rather unceremoniously into something hard and warm. Her eyes squeezed shut as whatever she had it toppled over as well. A foul smell erupted from the burner below the cauldron.
Hermione and the whatever-she-landed-on hit the floor, and both let out an audible 'oof'. Both. She lay on something hard and warm, something that was breathing. Her eyes stayed clenched tightly shut. No, oh no, it couldn't possibly be that. Stealing herself, she opened her big, brown eyes, and found them looking into highly agitated black orbs. Hermione gulped. Yes, it was true.
She was lying on top of Professor Snape.
A/N: And so ends chapter seven. Sorry if it's a bit shorter than usual, chapter eight will be looooong. Now, shout-outs! ^_^
Sonja S.: Thanks for reading and reviewing, great to see you again. Don't worry, there'll be more! :D
Jessicat1982: Hmm, I'll get cracking on the snog thing, but I'm not giving you any time frames. :D Thanks for the review, glad to get another one from you! Keep 'em coming! ^_^
Isa: Thanks! ^_^
Liesel: I know, I know, I take romances waaay too slowly, but things are moving better now. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it! :D
Aemos: Yay! 'blindingly good', ooooooh! Such high praise! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll let you know when I update automatically from now on, ok? That should make things easier for you. Thanks for reading! :D
RoseFyre: Hmm, I'm starting to notice a pattern...
Goddessnmb1: Convoluted... Yup, that's spelt right! Got my spellcheck on! :D I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, I hope the plot doesn't get too tangled, it's about to spread out a bit in the near future. As for the time thing, it's part of the mystery of the story, but I'm hoping I'll be able to explain it right as we go along. I know I screw up with grammar sometimes, heheh, it's a bit sad but I don't really have the time to go back and fix all my mistakes. Don't worry about bringing it up, even if it is small. I don't mind. It's not like you're flaming me! Thanks for reading, hope I'll see another review from ya. :D
Potionsgurl: :D Thanks, glad you had a good time reading. Demi's a perceptive kid, isn't he? ^_^
Witchy-grrl: Yay, such high praise! I love your reviews! :D But, if you want to know the secret to my story, it's pretty basic. See, I know everything that's going to happen! It's what JKR does too. Demitrius' fate is already set and sealed in my little plot-outline, and I just throw in little tidbits now and then. Nothing amazing. ^_^ But I'm really glad you're having a good time reading, hope you enjoyed chapter seven!
SilverStar: Ah, yay, I'm so happy you're enjoying it. As for the boy thing, I get that a lot. ^_^
Jordan: You got it. And yeah, Brutus is an idiot, he really got his commuppance. :D
Nicolette: Hullo Nicolette, thanks for reviewing again, I love you repeat reviewers. Can't say what Hagrid'll do, but I'm glad you liked the chapter! :D
Gabriele: Wow, your reviews are great, so long and flattering and informative, thanks so much for reading and leaving comments! You must really like Demitrius. I'm happy you think I did a good job, Demi's a blast to write about, as I've told numerous people. It's weird but it's almost like he writes himself some times. I'm glad you like the flashbacks, and the character interactions. I can't make any promises about our young heroes fate, though, as that would probably make the rest of the story pretty boring. But Demitrius is a smart lad so if there's a way, he'll find it! :D Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and for enjoying the fic so far, hope I see more of you!
Beth Ann: Thanks, glad you liked Demi's quick thinking, and I appreciate the compliment! ^_^ Hope you liked chapter seven, always nice to see a review from a familiar name.
Mireille: Yay! I'm so happy you enjoyed it, and I'm glad you were sceptical about Demi, because it's about time someone didn't love him from minute one. That you like him now is great, because it means he develops as we go along. I can never be sure of that with my own writing! :D I actually don't mind Malfoy so much, but I just read so many fics where he was good, and so many more where he was OOC, I wanted to try constructing his character along the path left off after GoF. Glad you think it's well- written!
"I already did explain, Professor." Demitrius said innocently, clasping a hand against his chest and leaning forward, a hurt expression on his face. "Fitsgibbons attacked me. I was merely exercising my own self-defence." He told Hermione. Well, okay, so maybe he'd over-done the whole 'defence' part, but perhaps she would take that well. Some kind of zealousness for her subject? Demitrius sat back a little at the expression on her face. Somewhere between angry, amused, and extremely unconvinced. Well, it was worth a shot.
"Usually when someone attacks you, there is some sort of evidence to back that up." Hermione said, looking him up and down. It did look bad. There wasn't a single scratch on him.
"I have good reflexes." Demitrius said with a shrug. He received a rather sceptical glance, but Hermione's only comment was a slow 'hmm'.
"I wouldn't ordinarily believe you, but sadly, Mr. Fitsgibbons has something of a reputation. Still, I'll have to ask that you return his wand." She said, and Demitrius felt immensely relieved as he handed back the stubby piece of wood. Well, of course the oaf would have a reputation, he was a violent moron. But something in Professor Granger's face said she wasn't ready to let him go just yet. She lay the wand to the side of her desk, gnawing a bit at her lower lip. It looked as though she wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to. "I'll still give both of you detentions. Fighting in the hallways isn't something I can tolerate." She told him, but he knew that wasn't what she'd really wanted to say. What was it? Did she want to ask him why they'd fought? No, that would have been fairly easy to get around to.
"Of course. No more tolerable than staff members verbally battering one another in front of students, I suppose." Demitrius said, and couldn't keep his humour from shining in his eyes, even as the rest of his face remained cold and calculating. Hermione frowned at him, her guilt making her face turn a light pink. She was so easy to read it was funny.
"Ah, yes, well. That was inappropriate of me. I apologise." She said. Oh, this was perfect! She'd walked right into it, Gryffindor honour and blindness tagging along behind her. Demitrius allowed himself a little grin.
"No need to apologise to me, Professor." Demi said, and she smiled gratefully at him, but he was not finished. "I think you owe such words to Professor Snape instead." He supplied. 'Yes! Now, she'll go down there to say sorry, and, er, things will happen. Hopefully.' He thought triumphantly. Hermione looked like she'd just opened a carton of rotten eggs, after being told it was filled with candy.
"P-Professor Snape?" She squeaked, before regaining some of her composure. Demitrius suppressed a frown. Well, this was odd. The fighting thing was fairly standard, they did that all the time, and he'd heard her call his father worse things than a 'bat' before. But what was this? Fear? She, his mother, was afraid of Severus Snape? He blinked. 'Why on earth would she be scared of him?' He wondered. Gradually his rational, cold, calculating side (which had been getting a real work-out of late) started piecing things together. Point one, his father could be a creepy bastard when he tried. Point two, she used to be his student, didn't she? Point three, their romantic relationship hadn't started yet, and this could all very easily just be nerves. Somewhere in the back of his head, however, the inner child which he had locked in a box and buried after his twelfth birthday was banging around, going 'No way, Mommy loves Daddy, she couldn't possibly be scared of him. He wouldn't hurt her!'
Demitrius promptly summoned his inner shot gun and silenced the annoying voice. Of course, all the while this was going on he was simply watching Hermione serenely, as she tried not to pass out. "Yes, apologise to Professor Snape." He told her, and threw in a smile for good measure. She looked at him like he was absolutely insane before regaining her composure. Hermione straightened, and some of the colour returned to her face.
"I don't think that will be necessary." She said. Demitrius frowned.
"Really? You don't?" He asked her carefully, and watched as she visibly seemed to go over her thoughts. 'Come on, Gryffindors aren't that cold. Bravery, honour, she's going back to apologise or I don't know my mother.' He thought. Sure enough, he read the signs of her acceptance written on her face, shortly before her words confirmed it.
With a sigh Hermione leaned back into her seat. "Oh, alright, I'll apologise to Professor Snape." She relented. Ah, triumph. Demitrius suppressed his victorious grin. It wouldn't really do to arouse suspicions just yet. Unfortunately for him, he didn't notice the quick glare Hermione shot him, and was not expecting that she might have laid a trap of her own.
"So, what exactly were you and Professor Snape working on down there, since we're on the topic." She said, and got a very self-satisfied look to her face. Demitrius blinked. So, she thought she'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, did she? Demi was far from being nervous about this. That she asked him meant she hadn't gone straight to Dumbledore, which was he had been hoping for.
"Brewing potions, Professor, I would think an astute woman such as yourself could have seen that." He replied calmly. "Potions are something of a fascination of mine, you see." Demi added for good measure. Slow and steady. He'd reel her in by her suspicions, and trap her with her curiosity. It was almost evil how well he knew what would happen. The only obstacle could be her loyalty to Dumbledore, which he knew to be fairly sound, but that could be side-stepped with just a few carefully placed words. It wasn't like he planned to the old man harm or anything. 'Stopping his death. Now, there's a real challenge.' Demitrius thought. Murder was one thing, old age was something else entirely.
Hermione was looking unimpressed. "I think you know exactly what I meant, Mr. Septimus." She told him firmly. "Those potions were not your average variety of 'interested student doing extra credit' work, and even if they were, Severus Snape does not give extra credit." She told him. Demitrius smiled.
"Alright, you've caught me." He told her. Now, here was where he had to be careful. Divulge a little, but not too much. His look grew serious. "Professor, let me ask you something." He said, shifting a little in his seat to give her a very serious look. It was genuine; The cheerfulness was, and had always been, an act. Well, except for a few times. Hermione looked at him but said nothing. Demitrius lowered his voice. "What would you give to jump years and years ahead of Voldemort in developments? To learn spells and counter-spells that won't exist for more or less a decade?" He asked. Hermione looked at him sternly.
"That's immoral, and dangerous." She said.
"What if I told you it was worth it?" Demitrius asked. Okay, so, maybe he was pushing Dumbeldore's restrictions a little here. Well, to hell with the old man! If Demitrius was willing to risk his own existence by being here, a few rules certainly weren't going to stop him. He toyed with the idea of just outright telling her. Not about her being his mother, that wouldn't do, but about other things. Maybe just one. Maybe... He looked at the pictures on her desk again, his eyes landing on the image of her, the two Weasleys, and Potter on Christmas day.
Hermione followed his gaze, and worry flashed clearly across her features. Demitrius looked at her. Hmm, maybe he needn't say anything after all. She took in the picture a moment before looking back at him. "What are you asking, Mr. Septimus? That I turn a blind eye?" She asked, and Demi could tell he had her.
"Demitrius or Demi, please, we aren't in class. And I'm asking for your help." He said. "There are things I can and cannot say. I cannot tell you why your help is needed, or what will happen in week, or a month, or a year. But I can tell you I need it. I can tell you little things, about wards and hexes, innocent things. Things which could come from my own inspiration as easily as another time." Demitrius said, standing from his seat to wander her office as he spoke. He never liked sitting down much. Moving, standing, walking were better things. He stalked over to the book cases and looked at some of the photos there. More of Weasley and Potter, but also some of his grandparents, which were eerily still. Muggle photos. Bleh. There was one of his mother as Head Girl, talking avidly with Professor McGonagall, pictures of everyone important in her life. To her it was happy reminders. If Demitrius did nothing, it would some day become a shrine to what was lost.
"The war with You-Know-Who... It doesn't go well, does it?" Hermione asked. Demi frowned.
"I cannot say." He told her. Physically, he could, but right now he'd rather weave through loop-holes than outright tear down walls. It wouldn't do to have a man like Dumbledore opposing him, to compound the challenges he already faced.
"You're asking me to trust you. But, I don't even know you!" She said, more to herself than to him, and Demitrius could see the logic in her words. It didn't matter. Hermione would be in his corner now, it was as good as sealed.
"But you'll help me, won't you?" He stated more than asked. It was only a brief moment before she sighed, and tiredly nodded her head. Demitrius turned away from the bookcases. Well, that was one obstacle down, about ninety-million left to go. As well as whoever it was that wanted to get their hands on him.
~
To say the Severus Snape was in a foul mood would be like referring to a dragon as being 'not altogether cuddly'. A gross and very deadly understatement. Yesterday's events had left him drained, cranky, and filled with thoughts of Hermione Granger. Most of those thoughts had been the usual. Hexing her, cursing her, watching as she died in some horrible Potions accident of her own doing, re-living her graduation, but this time with her failing and Draco Malfoy NOT becoming a Death Eater. However, some of the thoughts had been far more unnatural, and that was what got him to his current state of ill-temper.
Why, oh why, did she have to be so fierce? Why couldn't her hair have stayed a great, uncontrollable bushy mess, instead of becoming thick and lovely with time? When had that girl learned to use a comb? Hormones. Snape didn't bother to hide his sneer of revulsion. She was the only woman, or person even, on staff aside from Snape was going grey or bald. Though by all rights his hair should be a shimmering mass of white strands by now, with all the stress he had endured over the years.
She had grabbed his hand. And he had, well, noticed something. He enjoyed her touch. A cool one, light and gentle against his own. 'Severus, this is twisted. She was your student.' He berated himself. But, try as he might, he couldn't manage to bring up that mental image of an eleven-year- old Granger. The closest he came was Hermione in her school uniform. Which really, really didn't help.
"Um, Professor?" A rather terrified sounding voice asked. Snape looked up from his desk into the tearful eyes of a Gryffindor first-year. Gods save them all from first-years.
"What?" He snapped. She flinched, as though he'd struck her, then turned and pointed out into the sea of students. It was then that Snape noticed a rather Longbottom-esque young man had successfully melted his cauldron and was looking absolutely petrified.
Snape stormed over, thoroughly humiliated the boy, handed out a detention, alleviated his house of the burden of several points, and at the end of it all felt a little better. The bell rang, the first years ran, and Snape allowed himself to forget Professor Granger and turn his mind to Potions instead. Young Mr. Septimus was, undoubtedly, brilliant. The odds of him being a spy had gone down a bit. Not because he was good at Potions, which was certainly no saving grace in that field, but because he had produced positive results. After the boy failed to turn up again the other evening Snape had bottled and stoppered the remaining fluids, labelling them and making note of what he'd gathered from the experience. He could present them to the Board of Potions Masters in a few months, at the international exposition. Typically he avoided the affair as he had no time for research, and was not, by nature, and overly social creature. Demitrius' list contained more potions even still. Their presentation would earn him great prestige, having so many new things all at once, and all with so much potential. But something had been nagging him at the back of his mind. Was this why the young man had shown him these potions? For prestige? To earn credit for the creations of others? It was a very Slytherin thing to do, and Snape held no contempt for such an act, he'd been planning on it himself. No worse than Gryffindors with their glory-hogging.
But the nature of the potions was somewhat concerning. It didn't take a brilliant mind to build a connection between all the liquids. Two poisons, an invincibility potion, an anti-vampire concoction, a cure for lycanthropy (which reminded him, he should get in touch with that idiot Lupin. Maybe Dumbledore would give him Granger's job. Probably not, but it was worth a try), and a variety of items designed for healing serious injury or causing serious damage. They were the potions of war. Nothing flighty or fanciful, no advanced love potions or anything frivolous like that. Nothing of the sort was even on the boy's list. It gave Snape a very foreboding feeling.
Of course, it could be that the boy simply preferred more serious types of concoctions. Snape could certainly understand that. But still, there was something in the air. Something intangible that seemed to flicker around the corners of his sense, whispering that there was more to this, as ludicrous as it sounded. And Snape had learned a long time ago not to ignore such warnings.
Classes came and went, as did lunch time, during which Snape decided to mark papers rather than endure the inane babble of his colleges. He didn't want to have to see her again, either. How could he have been so distracted as to burn his hand? It was sheer idiocy, he was behaving like a teenage boy. Or at least, behaving as he had when he in particular was a teenage boy. At least he wasn't salivating openly like most had a tendency to.
It was evening when, at last, the time came that he could no longer avoid Hermione Granger, as she came to him. Her head peered around the corner of the doorway, long, thick strands falling away from her face as she did so. Shadows of firelight danced across her face, and for a moment, Snape found himself noticing something odd. Cast in a different light she looked... Well, he didn't know what she looked like. Still the annoying Granger woman that she was. He shook his head. Cold shower, long rest, and this little problem would go as quickly as it had come.
"Professor? I hope I'm not intruding." She said politely. Snape grunted. Stupid question, of course she was intruding, bearing her presence into his domain. But there wasn't anything for it, so why bring up such an obvious topic? Foolish niceties. She knew perfectly well the only people he wanted to see less would be Potter, Weasley, or the Dark Lord himself. Hermione moved into the room slowly. Obviously, she wasn't looking forward to this any more than he was.
"Right then Granger, let's get this over with." Snape said. He didn't have the patience to spit 'professor' at her with his usual venom. Standing up from his seat, he began to make his way towards his office.
"Wait."
Snape stopped. He glanced over his shoulder, mildly surprised. Wait? What, did she have something to say? 'Yes, like stop ogling me you perverted old man, so I won't feel the urge to vomit when we work together any more.' His treacherous mind thought darkly. For, that would be her reaction, wouldn't it? Had she noticed his discomfort? Noticed him... Noticing?
"I would like to apologise." Hermione said, looking up from her shoes.
"What?!" Snape half asked, half snapped, he was so startled. Apologise? He was confused now, though he did not at all show it, towering like a great shadow in the dungeon's gloom. Hermione crossed her arms and met his gaze, as though facing an army of Dementors, all holding hockey sticks. (A/N Picture that, really, it's hilarious and somewhat spooky at the same time.)
"I would like to apologise." She repeated, a little more loudly and clearly than before. When it was apparent Snape wasn't going to say anything, she continued. "I shouldn't have fought with you infront of a student like that, it was unprofessional, even if you did make me angry." She said. Quiet loomed as her words sank in.
Snape looked at Hermione. Hermione looked at Snape.
"...Very well. I accept your apology." He said. She nodded, and in silence they made their way to his office.
~
"What do you mean, he won't be there?" Malfoy asked of the head in his fireplace, a distinctly displeased look marring his handsome features. Ethan Fitsgibbons looked as though he expected to loose that head, too, any minute now.
"Well, now, my son couldn't convince him..." Fitsgibbons began, before Malfoy waved him off in irritation. Wonderful. Not a single brain cell could be found in the entire Fitsgibbons family tree, he shouldn't have expected them to carry this out successfully. Like the Crabbes and Goyles their only use was as muscle, or occasionally money. But Malfoy had access to plenty of both. What he wanted was someone who could bring him that boy, for once he had him the Veritaserum would take care of all his troubling little questions.
It seemed the subtle approach wasn't going to work. "Your son is strong?" Draco asked. He barely registered the older man's nod, as he turned his back, leaning up against the beautifully carved fireplace. "And, does he have friends who would help him?" He inquired further. There was a pause.
"For money or advantage, but yes, he knows people." Fitsgibbons supplied. Draco frowned at the tones of his voice, simpering and lowly, and he knew what the man was saying. But he would not help him pay for bribes, now was a time for redemption, not alliance. Draco wanted something, and now either Fitsgibbons would deliver, or his fellow aurors would get a very valuable tip from an anonymous source.
"Make whatever arrangements you want. Get them to drag Septimus to Hosgmeade, if they must, but make certain they get him there. This is your last chance." He said, and before Fitsgibbons could say anything more, Draco dismissed him with a wave. Fitsgibbons murmured his farewells, and his head disappeared from the fireplace, flames crackling powerfully in it's wake.
"Draco? Who were you talking to?" A soft voice said from the doorway. Malfoy turned only slightly. A woman, pale and small, dressed in a soft pink night gown waited at the entrance to the sitting room. Her long blonde hair was loose, and unusually fluffy, falling around a fragile and pale face.
"It's nothing to concern you Annette. Don't ask such questions." Draco said, the warning clear in his voice. His new wife had no place meddling in the affairs of the Death Eaters, especially ones as intricate as this. He'd married her for a few reasons. Her cunning was not one of them.
Annette frowned a little, obviously displeased by his harsh words. She was a foolish and breakable creature. The perfect wife for a Malfoy, and Draco did not resent his father for arranging the pairing. The frown soon faded away into a light smile. "Why don't you come to bed now Draco? It's cold." She said coyly, moving towards him with delicate footsteps. Light as a feather. Her arms snaked around his waist, and he let them remain there.
"Perhaps I will."
~
"Carefully, Professor, or you'll knock some into the flame and ruin the burner." Snape warned, as Hermione gently stirred the bubbling potion. It was beginning to take on it's bluish tinge as Snape carefully added in the powdered moss.
"I'm being careful." Hermione replied. Overall, they'd managed to keep mostly civil around one another as they worked. They fell into a harmonious rhythm as each mind went over the steps of the potion, checking, altering, stirring and chopping, with a flare and brilliance of motion that often only came from years of companionship. Which, technically, could be said for them. 'I have known him for years, haven't I?' Hermione thought, as she glanced at the darkly handsome man beside her. She'd known him pretty much for as long as she'd known Ron and Harry, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and so many people who were fixtures in her life. But, for some reason it didn't feel that way. Maybe because she knew him, but she didn't really *know* him.
He was brilliant with Potions, but what did he do in his spare time? He was a spy, working against Voldemort. But did he have any friends? He was harsh, and judgemental. Did he judge himself as well? Living down here, in the cold dungeons, alone and uncaring. Why did he do it? By choice, or by circumstance? And why did she want to know all of a sudden?
"Watch it!" Snape hissed suddenly, as without thinking Hermione moved her stirring rod a little too quickly, and a light drop of liquid swished over the side and onto the fire. There was a loud 'pop' as it hit the flame, and a bright flash. With a surprised squeak Hermione moved back. Her shoes skidded on the smooth surface of the dungeon floor, and she crashed rather unceremoniously into something hard and warm. Her eyes squeezed shut as whatever she had it toppled over as well. A foul smell erupted from the burner below the cauldron.
Hermione and the whatever-she-landed-on hit the floor, and both let out an audible 'oof'. Both. She lay on something hard and warm, something that was breathing. Her eyes stayed clenched tightly shut. No, oh no, it couldn't possibly be that. Stealing herself, she opened her big, brown eyes, and found them looking into highly agitated black orbs. Hermione gulped. Yes, it was true.
She was lying on top of Professor Snape.
A/N: And so ends chapter seven. Sorry if it's a bit shorter than usual, chapter eight will be looooong. Now, shout-outs! ^_^
Sonja S.: Thanks for reading and reviewing, great to see you again. Don't worry, there'll be more! :D
Jessicat1982: Hmm, I'll get cracking on the snog thing, but I'm not giving you any time frames. :D Thanks for the review, glad to get another one from you! Keep 'em coming! ^_^
Isa: Thanks! ^_^
Liesel: I know, I know, I take romances waaay too slowly, but things are moving better now. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it! :D
Aemos: Yay! 'blindingly good', ooooooh! Such high praise! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll let you know when I update automatically from now on, ok? That should make things easier for you. Thanks for reading! :D
RoseFyre: Hmm, I'm starting to notice a pattern...
Goddessnmb1: Convoluted... Yup, that's spelt right! Got my spellcheck on! :D I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, I hope the plot doesn't get too tangled, it's about to spread out a bit in the near future. As for the time thing, it's part of the mystery of the story, but I'm hoping I'll be able to explain it right as we go along. I know I screw up with grammar sometimes, heheh, it's a bit sad but I don't really have the time to go back and fix all my mistakes. Don't worry about bringing it up, even if it is small. I don't mind. It's not like you're flaming me! Thanks for reading, hope I'll see another review from ya. :D
Potionsgurl: :D Thanks, glad you had a good time reading. Demi's a perceptive kid, isn't he? ^_^
Witchy-grrl: Yay, such high praise! I love your reviews! :D But, if you want to know the secret to my story, it's pretty basic. See, I know everything that's going to happen! It's what JKR does too. Demitrius' fate is already set and sealed in my little plot-outline, and I just throw in little tidbits now and then. Nothing amazing. ^_^ But I'm really glad you're having a good time reading, hope you enjoyed chapter seven!
SilverStar: Ah, yay, I'm so happy you're enjoying it. As for the boy thing, I get that a lot. ^_^
Jordan: You got it. And yeah, Brutus is an idiot, he really got his commuppance. :D
Nicolette: Hullo Nicolette, thanks for reviewing again, I love you repeat reviewers. Can't say what Hagrid'll do, but I'm glad you liked the chapter! :D
Gabriele: Wow, your reviews are great, so long and flattering and informative, thanks so much for reading and leaving comments! You must really like Demitrius. I'm happy you think I did a good job, Demi's a blast to write about, as I've told numerous people. It's weird but it's almost like he writes himself some times. I'm glad you like the flashbacks, and the character interactions. I can't make any promises about our young heroes fate, though, as that would probably make the rest of the story pretty boring. But Demitrius is a smart lad so if there's a way, he'll find it! :D Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and for enjoying the fic so far, hope I see more of you!
Beth Ann: Thanks, glad you liked Demi's quick thinking, and I appreciate the compliment! ^_^ Hope you liked chapter seven, always nice to see a review from a familiar name.
Mireille: Yay! I'm so happy you enjoyed it, and I'm glad you were sceptical about Demi, because it's about time someone didn't love him from minute one. That you like him now is great, because it means he develops as we go along. I can never be sure of that with my own writing! :D I actually don't mind Malfoy so much, but I just read so many fics where he was good, and so many more where he was OOC, I wanted to try constructing his character along the path left off after GoF. Glad you think it's well- written!