By Tegan
Echoes
Chapter 15: A Good Idea?
The scent was subtle at first, sweet, but sickeningly so, like rotting flesh, tickling her nose as it hovered around her. Crinkling her nose slightly, Hermione quickly cast a Charm to reduce her sense of smell.
Gradually however, the odor strengthened, so that the vapors clung to her throat, making her mouth taste like soured milk. As the potion came to a boil, she watched the hazy fumes drift slowly up the stairway.
Eventually, even her Smell-No-More Charm could not protect her, and her eyes watered and her stomach churned.
As she watched the putrid mist become thicker, filling the laboratory, Hermione made a mental note to wait on any future night time inspirations. What might seem a brilliant experiment at four in the morning, might also have some distinctly negative aspects, which are more easily considered when fully awake.
Hermione lifted the watch from around her neck and checked the time. It was still early morning, and she sighed, wishing she had waited before jumping into this experiment. Her vision had become blurred by the vapors, creating a strange illusion that the creatures in the pickle jars, lining the walls, were moving and watching her. The image was disconcerting, and she shuddered, closing her eyes to regain her composure.
In fact, her vision was not the only thing out of focus. The past few days had been something of a blur for Hermione. She had worked with Snape during the day, had made polite conversation with Harry and Sirius in the evening, and had still found the need for Snape's company at night, as she became more drawn to him with each passing day.
For Snape's part, he had been content to remain locked in his rooms, rarely showing himself even to eat. Hermione thought his behavior was a bit extreme, but she understood the reasoning behind his strong reactions.
Harry on the other hand, was happier than Hermione had ever seen him. Finally, he had a family to spend time with and to love him.
Watching Harry and Sirius together had filled Hermione with a plethora of mixed emotions. Though happy for her friend, she was ashamed to find that she also felt somewhat jealous of their time together. Her mind often drifted to her home, and she missed her parents more than she thought possible.
Hermione was pulled back to reality as the stench worsened.
Using her sweater to cover her nose and mouth, she cautiously stirred the cauldron, as the vapors rose from its steaming contents. A large bubble slowly gurgled to the surface of the thick pasty mixture, releasing a stronger stench.
Before she could do anything to contain the smell, Snape's harsh voice echoed against the stone walls.
"What the hell are you brewing?" He demanded as he descended the stairs. "I thought a mouse had escaped and died within the walls," he continued, tightening the belt to his bath robe.
Hermione cleared her throat and tried to compose herself without actually breathing. Her voice sounded strained and nasally as she answered, "It's the Strengthening Salve I've been working on."
"You've obviously done something wrong," he firmly stated as he approached her, covering his nose with his sleeve, and glared suspiciously into the cauldron. "I know what Robustus Salve is, and this is not it."
Arching away from the fumes, he asked with repulsion, "Why does it smell so awful?"
Snape's face contorted into an odd grimace that reminded Hermione of a strange cartoon character.
Though she knew it was wrong to take pleasure in his agitation, Hermione was appreciating his sharp edge a bit more than she should have at the moment.
Hermione looked up innocently at him, hiding a grin behind her sleeve. "I was having trouble sleeping and became inspired. I've made a few alterations to the potion that should increase its effectiveness."
Snape looked at her skeptically and, pointing his finger accusingly at the cauldron, sneered, "No one will be willing to rub that vile paste on their body?"
An image of Snape covered in green salve flashed in Hermione's mind, and she could no longer hold back a laugh; though she soon regretted it, as a large gulp of the putrid air caused her to gag.
"We can work on the smell later," she coughed out.
Hermione extinguished the flames from under the cauldron and, knowing his answer, asked, "Will you help me prepare one of the mice for testing?"
Snape crossed his arms, replying, "It was your idea. I am but an observer."
Feigning surprise, she teased, "I've helped with your projects many times before."
There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as he replied dryly, "My idea never would have smelled this wretched," and he moved back, leaning against a lab station.
Relenting, Hermione scrunched up her nose and cringed, looking down at the putrid mess that, in a moment, she would have to touch. She took a ladle and, glopping the paste into a small porcelain bowl, moved to the cages. She removed her shirt sleeve from her face and opened up the cage, taking hold of a mouse.
Trying to hold her breath, she dipped three fingers into the paste, while her other hand firmly grasped the mouse. The stench was clearly torture for the mouse as well, who was squirming and fighting to be released. Unfortunately, now that her hands were occupied, there was nothing protecting her nose, so that a sickness began to creep upon her until she had an overwhelming urge to vomit.
Dropping the mouse, which was now coated in the green mess, Hermione quickly rushed upstairs, past a very amused Snape. She made her way into the bathroom in time to taste the sour bile within her mouth. She turned on the faucet to the sink and ran her hand under the cool water, while she leaned down to rest her forehead on the porcelain. The smell was now definitely less noticeable, and she sucked the fresh air into her lungs, trying to calm her stomach. She rested against the sink, hunched over, breathing, eyes closed for several minutes, until at last she was composed enough to stand up.
Though most of the salve had rinsed away with the water, clumps still clung to her fingers and under her nails. The sight of the green paste was enough to re-initiate the queasiness.
Vigorously scrubbing the slop from her hands, she looked up to see her pale, sickly reflection in the mirror. She splashed some water on her face, hoping to bring some life back into her cheeks.
As Hermione examined her face, Snape entered the bathroom, positioning himself so that she could see his reflection towering over her shoulder. He was so close that the heat from his body permeated to her, sending tingles down her spine. His endless black eyes stared from behind her, reflecting back at her, boring into her soul.
"Your mirror is awfully quiet," she hoarsely stated, flicking the water from her fingers.
"Hmm. I insist on placing all the Charms in my rooms personally. I've never had a fondness for talking objects. There have never been magical paintings in my rooms either."
He leaned down and kissed the top of her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Ugh." She wiggled playfully in his arms. "The stench is clinging to your clothes and hair even more than to mine."
He leaned down, murmuring, "Suffer."
Watching her image intertwined with his, moving, smiling, laughing in the mirror, the depth of their relationship felt more real than ever before. She could see the difference in her appearance. Her face seemed to brighten, soften, become healthier and more alive as he stood near. His demeanor also altered. The muscles on his face had relaxed, softened and become pleasant. The couple that stared back at her, was very much in love.
She smiled, feeling his hands move over her, knowing that had she been looking into the Mirror of Erised, the image would have been much the same.
Snape's cold fingers moved under her blouse, and she yelped.
The pair's playfulness was stopped short by a knock on the bedroom door. A tinge of fear tensed into Hermione's body, as irrational thoughts of Harry sensing their actions through the door ran in her mind.
Hermione cautiously opened the door to find a concerned Harry on the other side.
Peering through the opening of the door, searching for something, Harry blurted out, "Yuck! What happened? I thought the smell out here was bad."
Hermione sighed, leaning up against the door. "Yes, I know. I was trying something different, and it got a bit out of hand." Moving back, she muttered, "I'll fix it. Sorry."
Stepping forward before she could close the door, Harry interrupted, "Wait, Hermione. You'll be done soon, won't you?"
"Harry, it's still morning."
"I know, but it's New Years, and Sirius wants to celebrate later. You should come join us." He shifted uncomfortably and lowered his voice, "I miss you Mione. You've been spending so much time working, I barely see you anymore." He paused, smiling, "Besides, it's not a celebration without a crowd."
Smiling wickedly, she added, "In that case, maybe I'll try and get Snape to come out."
His grin faded, and Harry replied, "Don't try too hard. But you will come, won't you?"
Nodding, she agreed, "Not until later though. I have quite a mess to deal with here."
Her response was sufficient for Harry, who lifted his hand in a silent goodbye and turned to leave.
Closing the door, Hermione tentatively approached Snape whose arms were firmly crossed in protest to the conversation he had just overheard. Though he loomed over her in an oppressive manner, Hermione doubted if his true feelings were as dark as they appeared.
She smiled up at him and implored, "Come on. We need to get back to work."
"I'm not going anywhere near that vile substance," he sneered.
Not really believing her own words, she answered, "The smell will be much less noticeable after a few minutes."
"Yes, obviously," Snape replied sarcastically. "Your gagging proved that."
Snape stood immovable, arms still crossed, glaring down at her, though his eyes glistened as he arched his eyebrows. Determine not to give up completely, Hermione shook her head, realizing that arguing was useless.
She slowly moved against him, leaning her forehead against his chest, wrapping one arm around his torso, while the other cautiously reached into her pocket. With a flick of her wand, Snape's head was instantly surrounded by a clear fish bowl-like barrier.
Her actions had clearly surprised him, as confusion spread across his face, before quickly being replaced by a darker, shuttered look. Hermione knew it was a rare thing to catch him off-guard, and so savored the next few moments.
"What did you just do?" he demanded. His voice was dangerous, but muffled, as he glared down at her daring her to laugh.
"It's a Bubble-Head Charm. I thought that with such a prominent nose, you would require something more effective than a simple Spell."
His body stiffened, and his voice lowered as he warned, "I don't take kindly to being made fun of."
"I like your nose," and she reached up, running her finger over the glass. This small gesture was enough to cause Snape's shoulders to visibly relax and his fists to unclench.
He watched her carefully as she turned the wand on herself, and a similar bubble formed around her head, her bushy hair sticking out the bottom.
Striding past a still disgruntled Snape, Hermione made her way down to the laboratory. As she descended the stairs, she became surrounded by a yellowish haze that filled the room. The vapors clung to her arms and hovered around her helmet like a thick, eerie fog, and Hermione felt as if she had just entered an alien world.
Behind her, Hermione heard Snape cast a Spell, and the fumes dissipated, sinking and being absorbed into the stone floor, so that she could now clearly see around her.
Suddenly, the thought of a mouse running loose with poisonous gunk on its fur began to worry her.
"I hope Crooks doesn't find the mouse and try to eat it." The concern in her voice reverberated against the bubble back into her ears.
A small smirk emerged on Snape's lips, as if he would wish otherwise.
She lightly slapped his arm. "Crooks is a good cat."
"Hmm. I don't like the way he watches me."
"He's just jealous."
It was true. When Snape had visited Hermione in her room, the cat sat staring, watching them enviously from the edge of the bed. With Snape's presence, the Crookshanks could no longer sleep atop her chest as he had grown accustomed to, and he was showing his displeasure.
A slight movement, noticed from the corner of her eye, grabbed Hermione's attention, and she quickly jerked her head towards the sight to catch a glimpse of a little green blob, as it scampered under one of the lab stations at the far end of the room.
Racing across the room, Hermione pulled her wand, eyeing the floor, ready to strike.
Suddenly, and in unison, little bursts of blue light shot out around the room as the pair aimed at the moving target.
Papers flew, glass broke, but the scuttling rodent evaded their attempts at capture.
The sight was both frustrating and quite ridiculous, and Hermione chuckled, "I think the Robustus Salve has increased the mouse's speed."
Another zap hit the wall, sending sparks flickering against the stone, but the little creature was still on the loose.
Hermione could not help but laugh whole heartily as their actions were thwarted again and again. This time, her stomach ached, not from the stench, but from laughter.
Snape's mouth curled slightly, but was soon replaced with a firm look of determination. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened, and soon the mouse was back in its cage. Though slightly worse for wear with its fur spiked up by the gloppy paste, the mouse was now calmly standing on its hind legs, sniffing into the air.
As Snape secured the lock on the cage, Hermione quietly stated, "You can't hide forever."
He turned, watching her curiously, not fully understanding her words. She pleadingly looked up at him, "Please come out tonight."
Snape sighed, as her words took on meaning, "Hermione, it's not as though we could interact in any sort of way."
"I know, but it would be a comfort to know you're near."
He paused, thoughtfully watching her. An evil smirk crossed his face as he admitted, "I might grasp some pleasure in annoying Potter, but that would also mean I'd have to spend time around him and," his grin faded as he spat, "Black."
Thinking it best not to push the issue, she sighed and began the long process of Reparo on each item that was broken, shattered, or damaged by their recent fiasco with the mouse.
Hermione knew that though Snape might have grumbled and growled, he would also most likely show, if only to have a reason to later complain about forcing him there.
The rest of the day went by quickly as they worked through breakfast and lunch, the lingering stench staving off their appetites. Much to Hermione's relief, her salve appeared to work as she had hoped, and the mouse, though smelly, seemed otherwise unharmed by Avada Kedavra.
In fact, most of their recent tests using the Killing Curse hadn't been nearly as awful as Hermione had anticipated. As often as not, the mice survived the tests unscathed, and working with Snape was well worth the effort. Though they worked long hours, the atmosphere had become relaxed and easy without Harry around. She loved watching Snape's mind work, and though he was stubborn and arrogant, he did not automatically dismiss her suggestions. To Hermione, their research was now less like work and more like a challenge, a puzzle to be answered.
Though the new salve seemed to have potential, more testing would be needed. Hermione realized their main obstacle was that so few tests could be performed a day. Avada Kedavra was a very draining Spell to perform. One person could only cast two or three Spells a day. With her participation, the research had moved more quickly, but Hermione knew it would be best if she could persuade Harry to help as well. She was reluctant to do so, both from his apprehension to working with the Curse, and from the fact that she and Snape had been increasingly growing closer.
Eventually, the day turned into evening, and Hermione found it time to join Harry and Sirius.
Entering the library, Hermione jolted back as a rubber ball zipped past her. She turned quickly to see a giant black dog leap over a table at the far end of the library, catching the ball in its teeth.
The dog, with the ball firmly in its mouth, trotted over to Hermione, tail wagging.
She smiled and patted his back, "Hey, Padfoot."
The dog lowered his head, dropping the ball by her feet and looked up at her imploringly.
"I am not touching that slimy thing," Hermione warned. "Go by Harry if you want to play catch."
In front of her eyes, the panting dog transformed back into a tall man, who flashed her a charming grin. "Where's your feminine soft-spot for cute, furry animals? Or have I lost my touch?" He teased.
"I'd call it a pathetic plea for attention," Harry called out from across the room.
Hermione watched Sirius as he picked up the ball and began tossing it about. In many ways, she envied his jovial nature. There was a spirit in Sirius which could not be broken. He was so alive, and easily spread his energy to anyone around him.
As he knocked into her while attempting to catch a wayward toss, she also realized that he was well on the way to being very drunk. The scent of alcohol filled her nose as he wavered slightly, her hands on his upper arms steadying him. He turned his head towards her. The pupils of his reddened eyes were dilated, and his face looked flushed as he grinned a silly boyish smile.
"How much have you two had to drink?" Hermione cautiously inquired.
"Enough to have fun, but not so much as not to know better," and he winked at Harry.
Hermione looked suspiciously over at her friend, who rolled his eyes. "It's New Years Hermione. Try and have a little fun."
"Speaking of," and Sirius clapped twice. In an instant, Dobby appeared through the side wall, hopping up and down, ready to please.
"A glass for the lovely lady, and another round of champagne for us," he commanded.
The little elf squeaked, ears twitching with excitement. A pop sounded as a tray with a bottle and three bubbling long stemmed glasses appeared out of thin air.
Sirius grabbed two of the glasses and handed one to Hermione.
Raising his drink into the air, he announced, "A toast!"
"To what?" Hermione asked.
"To friends and family," Harry chimed in, as he took his glass from the tray.
Hermione looked over at Harry, and at that moment, could not think of anything she would wish to toast to more.
"To friends and family," she and Sirius agreed in unison, tapping their glasses together.
The next hour was spent sitting around the fire, idly chatting, until Sirius, for no apparent reason, shot up and began pacing.
"Too much energy for his own good," Harry whispered to Hermione.
After a few minutes of watching him move about the room, Harry asked, "Do you feel like a game of chess?"
She looked up at Sirius, who had once again found his ball and was tossing it playfully in the air. Sirius had more than a little difficulty sitting through an entire game, and so he rarely played.
As he seemed occupied for the moment, Hermione nodded her agreement, interested to see if her strategy had improved, though she realized how very unlikely that was.
She knew that, if Harry hadn't been so poor at chess, she'd have no chance of winning at all. It wasn't as if Hermione didn't know how to play. She had watched Harry and Ron enough to know the basic rules, but for much of her life, she had been more of a spectator, absorbing information through books and observation, rather than from actively doing.
Hermione moved down to find a comfortable seat on the rug, while Harry gathered the chess set and began forcing the pieces onto the board.
Playing chess with the set available in the house was an adventure in itself. The pieces did not trust her or Harry and readily argued, or at best offered their advice, which tended to be more confusing than helpful.
In fact, the silly little pawns were, at that moment, debating as to why each should not be the first to move.
And so, the game began, if not smoothly or easily, at least relatively quickly. More importantly, Hermione was beginning to feel her competitive nature, which she normally only allowed within the classroom, and she became determined to win.
Curling her legs around, she used one hand for support, while her other hand moved thoughtfully to her mouth contemplating each move.
Her knight had just taken one of Harry's bishops when its brother threw down his hat and refused to follow Harry's orders.
Ignoring the obnoxious piece's fit, Harry looked thoughtfully up at Sirius. "Do you know any really nasty hexes that work on Wizard Chess pieces?"
"Oh, yes," Sirius beamed. "Quite a few."
The squawking bishop suddenly stilled and, meekly picking up his hat, moved across the board without another word.
Sirius tossed the ball one more time, as he leaned against a chair and looked down at Harry, chuckling, "This talk of hexes reminds me of my last New Years as a student at Hogwarts. Things got a little out of hand."
Harry's interest instantly switched from the game to Sirius, as he sat back and listened intently.
Sirius began coolly, "Remus had no family, so James and I stayed on for the holidays. A few nights before New Years Eve, we snuck into Hogsmeade and swiped a bottle of Firewhisky from the Three Broomsticks."
He glanced at Hermione coyly, "After all, what's a party without a little Firewhisky?"
He cleared his throat and continued, "House rivalry, especially between Gryffindor and Slytherin, was even more fierce than it is today. Add to that three very drunk young men, and bad things happen."
He paused for effect, holding his ball up like a Shakespearean actor about to recite Hamlet.
"We transfigured the tapestries surrounding the Slytherin Entrance into bright pink Pansies. And if that wasn't awful enough, we added a little surprise to the flowers."
He choked out, "Anyone who touched or tried to remove the plants would have to deal with huge boggies spilling from their noses!" His hand gestured a waterfall streaming from his face.
His animated tale had the desired effect, as Harry laid down on the floor, holding back tears from laughter.
Sirius grinned, "I have to take most of the credit for that one, though James did come up with the idea of hiding the hex in the flowers."
"It was brilliant!" He bragged, "Over a half-dozen teachers and students were sent to the Infirmary. The professors were able to remove the Curse from the flowers the next day, but the Pansies stayed up for almost a week!"
Flopping down onto a chair, his voice became lower as he added, "Confidentially, I think Dumbledore appreciated our fine taste in decor."
He sighed, looking thoughtfully at Harry, "It's hard to believe that the three of us made it back to Gryffindor Tower without being caught. Though invisible, thanks to your father's cloak, we were far from silent."
Harry was enthralled by his words. Hermione knew that hearing his father spoken of, as if it were yesterday, gave Harry a connection to his family that had been absent for so many years.
Realizing that preaching rules to Sirius would have little effect, she couldn't help but mention, "The Curse of the Boggies is an illegal Spell. You're lucky you weren't caught. You could have been expelled."
He smiled, replying, "Ah, Hermione. My philosophy has always been, Live for today, for tomorrow may never come!"
Though his statement was made with a light spirit, there was a truthfulness to it that brought a silence upon the group.
Feeling a heaviness sink into her heart, Hermione motioned to the chess board, breaking the silence, "It's your turn, Harry."
This slight distraction was all that Sirius needed to recover, and he began playing with his ball, once again at ease.
"What this room really needs is color. Don't you agree?" Sirius asked in a forced casual manner.
Hermione wasn't sure what she was agreeing to, but she nodded absently, examining Harry's latest move.
In an instant, Sirius had transfigured a large squashy chair into an equally large bouquet of reds and yellows and odd violets and blues.
Harry looked suspiciously at the flowers and chided, "Reminds me of one of Lockhart's ideas."
The game was going much better than she had anticipated, though her knight was becoming quite bothersome as he argued his importance to her. Deciding to use the same veiled threat that Harry had made earlier, she opened her mouth, not really hearing Sirius' chatter or Harry's not so subtle hints to hurry, when there was... nothing.
Hermione's head shot up and a chill ran through her body as a stoic, hard faced Snape entered the room.
Sirius froze. Only the ball he had been tossing continued, as it dropped into his raised hand one last time, before a look of repulsion spread across his face.
Hermione's eyes moved to Snape, whose harsh features seemed even more so, now that she had become accustomed to him in a relaxed environment.
Snape strode past her, avoiding eye contact and moved to a chair in the corner. Pulling out a book from the wall behind him, he sat rigidly still, silently reading.
Snape's prediction that Harry would be upset with his presence was confirmed as Hermione watched the young man's face sink with disappointment.
Sirius, however, soon composed himself. "Yes, well," he uncomfortably burst out, and if anything, became more animated and jovial around Snape.
Hermione suspected that it was Sirius' way of showing Harry how different his godfather was from his cruel professor, but she also realized that Sirius derived the same sort of warped pleasure from Snape's annoyance, as Snape did from making Harry uncomfortable.
Hermione tried to appear focused on her game, while in reality she was much more interested in the actions of the others around her.
She listened intently, as Sirius' pacing sped up behind her, and as a page gently turned from the book kitty-corner from her.
Distracted by these things, Hermione would have surely lost the game, had Harry's concentration not been affected by Snape's entrance as well. After just a few minutes, she heard Sirius approach them.
He called out to Harry, "Come my boy. Let's get you another drink."
Harry and Sirius moved to the champagne bottle at the far end of the room, while Hermione stayed to clean up their unfinished game. Soon the men were pouring their drinks, and Hermione took the opportunity to move quietly to a nearby chair.
Though she was not near Snape, she was far from the others, and she ventured a glance in his direction.
Somehow sensing her eyes on him, he looked up from his book and raised his eyebrows for an instant before looking back down.
This smallest recognition by him, sent a shiver of sparks across her skin and elevated her respiration and heart rate significantly. She felt warm and excited, and equally as nervous as she heard Harry and Sirius begin laughing loudly from across the room.
Looking over her shoulder, she noticed the men were far from focused on anything in particular and were certainly not interested in her at the moment.
A small grin appeared on her face, as she gathered her courage and walked over to Snape, nonchalantly assessing the books on the shelves behind him.
"I see you've decided to show," Hermione murmured, picking a thin book out of the stack.
"Hmph," Snape grunted, not looking up.
His reaction prompted a wider smile which she hid as she turned her back on the laughing men at the far end of the library and returned to her seat.
Hermione opened her book and watched the words with out reading. Instead, she focused on listening to Harry and Sirius laugh and joke, while also trying to sense any movements or intentions by Snape. These things occupied her attention so much that she was more than a little surprised when a glass suddenly appeared between herself and her book.
How she hadn't notice him approach alluded her, but there Sirius stood, offering her another glass of champagne, ignoring Snape entirely. As she took a sip, she rationalized that avoidance was the best behavior she could hope for from either man.
Though Snape appeared to be focused on his book, Hermione could sense that his attention was not so firmly set. Every so often, she could feel his eyes upon her, though, with Sirius and Harry once again nearby, she was far too nervous to look back.
As midnight neared, Harry and Sirius began singing something about a lass from Bath. What the men lacked in tune, they made up for with volume, as they leaned into one another and belted out their slurred chorus.
The first chorus was loud and juvenile, but entertaining, and Hermione found herself smiling slightly, as she glanced over at a very annoyed Snape.
Harry and Sirius' singing evolved into not only song, but dance, as they swayed side to side with each new verse. Gradually, their movements became more of a dance, swinging each other around, laughing at their own antics.
Sirius separated from Harry long enough to do a little jig, which ended up as a large crash as a misstep landed him into a table, knocking himself and the table onto the ground.
As Sirius and Harry burst into laughter, Hermione could feel an uneasiness build within her. She had little experience around alcohol, but knew that the men and their actions were quickly becoming more pathetic than amusing.
Hermione looked over to see Snape's face contorting into an expression of utter disgust. He rose silently, but sharply from his chair, glaring down at Sirius as he sprawled out on the floor.
Harry reached down to help Sirius, who turned the contact into a full swing, and the two twirled around the room.
Hermione's attention snapped back to Snape, who was on his way to exiting the room. Her mind focused elsewhere, she did not notice as the singing and swinging approached. In all the confusion, Hermione found herself being grabbed and twirled around. Before she realized what was happening, Sirius' hand pushed her head forward and their lips firmly made contact.
It was a hard, wild kiss, one that she would feel for sometime after, yet their was no passion. Sirius was in it for the fun, and Hermione was horror struck by the forcefulness of his actions and by the smell of alcohol on his drool covered lips.
Instantly, she wiggled away, and grabbing her wand, forced him back with a quick Spell. As he wobbled and stumbled slightly, another voice rang out, and Sirius was slammed down onto the floor, twitching, as large pussy boils began to grow over his exposed skin.
As Hermione watched Snape's retreating figure sweep furiously away, she was much more concerned about his reaction the next time she would see him than about Sirius.
Harry rushed towards his godfather, concern filling his eyes.
He hesitantly bent down and attempted to touch one of the boils on Sirius' arm. The instant his fingers made contact, the puss exploded from the thin covering of skin, leaving an oozing sore.
"Don't touch me," Sirius cried out, his body still rigid and twitching.
Kneeling down, Harry directed his wand at Sirius and commanded, "Finite Incantatum." The boils shrunk to small pimples. Only the open sore remained, as Sirius began to move.
Propping himself up against the wall, Hermione watched as Sirius' face flushed with anger. He chided vengefully, "It seems we have broken the dear professor's heart with our kiss."
His words sent a bolt of fear through Hermione, and her mind raced, trying to find a way to easily play them off.
"I would hardly think that it would take jealousy to push Snape into hexing you Sirius," Hermione retorted.
Surprisingly, to her ears, she sounded quite casual.
Harry, at the moment, seemed as skeptical as Hermione was desperately trying to portray.
"I don't think Professor Snape could ever fancy anyone," he agreed.
Sirius blurted out, "Certainly no one would ever fancy him."
The moment was over, and soon, Harry and Sirius seemingly forgot about any feelings Snape might be harboring for her. Sirius words stayed with her however, and Hermione could feel the tension build. The longer she stayed, the more she felt like a traitor. She needed to see Snape.
"I think I've had enough fun for the evening," Hermione said, hoping that her excuse was enough to satisfy both men, and she quickly left before she could find out.
At first she wanted nothing more than to run to Severus and tell him what Sirius had said, but as she made her way to her room, she rationalized that it would do their situation no good to worry about someone who would soon be gone. Harry seemed unaffected by Sirius' revelation, and Sirius himself would very likely dismiss his thoughts once his mind had cleared. Even if he continued to suspect that Snape felt something towards her, who was Sirius to tell? Hermione was fairly confident that Dumbledore would listen to Sirius' concerns for Snape about as well as he did Snape's for Sirius.
As she opened the door to her room, she found Snape sitting on the bed, scowling at the fire, his hand running over Crookshanks' fur. Hermione paused, silently observing the two. He and the cat had obviously found some common ground, jealousy.
Coming from such noise and commotion, there was a stillness to the room that was unsettling, and she breathed out a sigh that she knew he heard.
Snape, however, did not acknowledge her, so closing the door, she re-applied the wards before asking, "Severus, what are you doing here?"
He looked up at her. The low fire in the hearth was the only light in the room, and it danced and flickered on his face, softening his harsh features.
"I needed to see you," he murmured, barely audible.
Standing by the door, watching him, Hermione wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms. However, her rational mind was nervous, and she forced herself to ask, "What if I hadn't been alone?"
His hands clenched into Crookshanks hair, as he sneered,"Were you planning on inviting Black back with you?"
With his words, Crookshanks growled, giving her a disapproving glare.
Hermione sighed, "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
She approached the bed, pushing the cat aside, so that she could take his place. Reluctantly, Crookshanks moved back, so that she could be next to Snape, but he stayed near enough to watch and listen.
She laid her head across Snape's lap, feeling the warmth of his legs and stomach. His fingers moved to gently play with her hair as it fanned out across his legs and knees. Looking up at him, she began, "You didn't need to hex him. I was handling the situation on my own."
"Yes, after the bastard grabbed you and molested you in front of me."
She slowly pushed herself back up, kissing his chest and chin and mouth, before hiding her face in the crook of his neck and murmured into his hair, "I don't want someone like Sirius. I want you."
"I know," he choked out. "I'm not angry with you. I'm not completely irrational. I do trust you, Hermione."
Whether it was his words, or the emotion with which he spoke them, at that moment, she needed him to know how she felt.
Pushing his hair from his shoulder, she whispered, "I love you."
Though he did not respond with words, his arms around her tightened, pulling her body against his as he embraced her in a deep kiss, so that neither person spoke again for some time.
Thanks to everyone who Read and Reviewed! KBgirl, Squirrel(ack! I can't believe your story is almost done), sk, Morghaine, May Houston, Beth Ann(Look to the Future was wonderful. I'm sad to see it end), Nicolette, deSevera, Aurinia, besnaped, Alia, Shelby, LoPotter, Severely Snaped, Trisha.
I hope you are still interested in the story. I'm sorry this took a few weeks to update. I was out of town for a week, and then other, unexpected things popped up filling most of my time. I hope this chapter does not disappoint.