Disclaimer: Well if you think that I created these characters, then perhaps you can tell me just how the tooth fairy delivers her quarters…they're all JKR's, of course.
Okay, I personally think that I am getting this one out in very good time, and I do believe that its even a teeny bit longer than usual. This chapter just came flowing through, so I wrote. Never take the muses for granted, I've learned. Again, if you want on my mailing listing, either tell me in review or email me at amariran@yahoo.com As always, I love those who review (replies are at the bottom). Even if all you have to say is: 'I'm here and reading, just to let you know.' Have fun!
And yet his fiercely searching eyes made out another pair, wide eyed and staring. Hermione Granger, two balconies away.
He stood still, shocked, for less than a split second. He was, after all, a spy, and a successful one at that. After that momentary astonishment, he performed an abstruse charm that allowed him to see- and hear-her more clearly. Amazingly, she had just performed the same charm.
"Professor…I…"
"Save it, Granger. Obli-." He was cut off by a strange shield rising up around the girl, bluish silver and radiating power. He had no doubt that it would repel the memory charm he had been about to use, unless he used a great deal of power. He wasn't willing to chance the destruction of her brain, not after spending hours working to save it last week. He met her defiant, cold eyes with an equally matched expression. Slowly, deliberately, he tucked his wand into his robes, never breaking his gaze with her. As soon as his unarmed hands were back on the railing, in plain sight of the girl, her shield was dropped and her wand put away as well. Enchanted robes, he thought distractedly. They stared in silence for a moment, neither realizing how, well, ridiculous they looked. Hermione had forgotten to include the warming spell in her shield, so she was now standing, shivering, in the cold November air. A freezing wind sent her shaking. She had always needed more heat than others. Snape saw her shake and pursed his lips, pondering his course of action.
"Fine. You are going to walk out the door and meet me where the eleventh century armor usually is; it usually goes visiting in the early morning, and the place is hard to miss. Then, we will come back to this room and…discuss this." She nodded and left, both watching the other disappear into their respective rooms. Two sets of doors clicked close in unison, echoing faintly into the nearly pitch black night.
Hermione had accepted his terms. They both knew that it would be ridiculous for either of them to attempt to find the other's room considering the vagaries of Hogwarts architecture. Although they appeared only a few yards apart at the exterior of the castle, they might be a mile apart inside. That was unlikely given that the suit of armor he had mentioned was very close to her room, and, she was assuming, his own, but they weren't about to take chances. She took a longing glance around the quiet room before she stepped out into the cold hallway, wishing for just a few more moments of peace.
He got there a few moment before she showed up by virtue of his longer legs, she supposed. Their greetings were stiff and awkward. A length of silence followed and was broken by Professor Snape regaining his normal exterior and gesturing her to follow him.
"Sir? We aren't heading the way I would assume the room I found you in to be."
"Be careful not to assume, Granger. But in this case, you are correct. We aren't." There is no way in Hades I would think of letting you into my private sanctum, he elaborated to himself. But that was not necessary to say to the girl. He had decided quickly that taking her to the Headmaster would solve nothing. He would deal with this situation alone. But he could not be in a setting where he had always been able to be vulnerable, for he knew Miss Granger and her damnable curiosity and he knew that he would need all of his wits about him. He became aware that she was no longer following his sweeping form.
"All right. Then let's have this conversation here." He turned in time to see her cast an advanced silencing charm over the empty corridor. Anyone passing by or even trying to hear their conversation would hear nothing but a discussion about…
"The latest Quidditch match, Professor. Is what I have charmed it to emit. Anyways, you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am about to run back to the dormitory and shoot my mouth off to everyone. I'm not. And I'm not going to ask you what you were doing. I'm not going to ask you why, and I'm not going to…ask you anything. I am going to ask that you check to see whether I am outside before you…relax out there yourself, and that you allow me to coexist in my room as peacefully as I will allow you to in your own. I'm not going to change my habits, Professor, and I don't expect you to change yours. Have a...better night, sir." She couldn't bring herself to say 'good', knowing full well how ridiculous it would seem in the face of the angst she had heard bursting from his lips earlier. She was, of course, dying to know the answers to all of the questions she had told him she would not ask, but she was not a little girl any more. She knew tact, and she knew that now, if ever, was the time to exercise it. Instead, she forced a genial expression on her face, nodded at him, and turned to walk back to her rooms (her real ones) with as much dignity as possible. She had taken several steps before she realized that she wasn't certain where she was. She sighed and turned back to her Potions Master, who was now leaning on the walls of the hallway rubbing his face tiredly with his pale, slender hands.
"Professor Snape?"
"What IS it, Granger?" she had
never heard her teacher, so skillful at producing the most biting reprimand in
barely more than a whisper, snap with such frustration, and she was almost
taken aback. But she was not about to
turn into a stuttering child.
"Where the hell am I?"
"Your language is most unnecessary, girl. Go straight down this hallway, turn right at into the first branch you see and continue walking straight until you hit the suit of armor where we met. I trust that you can find your way to your rooms from there." It was not a question. Hermione did not give an answer. She turned and walked back to the Head Girl's rooms. The girl didn't notice her professor sigh quietly, push himself off the wall, and plod wearily to his own, where insomnia would rule what little was left of the night.
Hermione awoke the next morning with gritty eyes and a pounding headache brought on by terrible nightmares that had plagued what little sleep she had managed to seize after her run-in with Snape. Damn him for ruining her peaceful reflection. Greasy haired, big-nosed, Slytherin…her invectives continued until she reached the blissfully warm shower and stepped in. Within moments, she was refreshed and ready to face the day. Her excitement quickly faded as she recalled that it would be quite difficult to accomplish what she had wanted to today. Her original plan had been to go to Snape and beg that he allow some time today for them to work on their project. There was still a lot of research to be done, but it went much faster together, and with two brains working, they were also able to begin thinking of plans. But now, she felt too uncomfortable to face him after what had happened. The again, she was a Gryffindor, wasn't she? Her house was known for its courage (foolhardy stupidity, she sometimes had to admit) and she wasn't about to back way from this challenge. She and the Potions Master were going to make this potion, and they needed all the time in the world. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her hair, and screamed when she heard Snape's voice issuing from her fireplace.
Needless to say, Severus Snape was as unamused upon hearing her scream a second time as he had been at her first. At least he wasn't close enough to do any physical damage this time. But if looks could kill, Hermione would be six feet under…and then some.
"Merlin's Balls, sir! You should have called with your voice before you put your head into the fireplace of a female student's room…"
"I did, Granger. Don't blame me that you're deaf. I will be in the Potions Laboratory in five minutes to pick you up and show you to where we will be conducting our research and experimentation. If you aren't there, I will consider this entire venture ended." With that abrupt, and rather snarky last remark, the head was gone from the flames. Teachers and the Head Girl and Boy, as well as the common room, always had a fireplace lit so that people could get in quick contact with each other, although few connections allowed someone to physically change locations. They were charmed to give off heat or cold depending upon one's wishes. Hermione cast a withering glare at the fireplace before gathering her materials and stepping out of her rooms, making sure that all of her personal wards were set on the doors before she took the shortest route to the Potions Classroom. She arrived at the same time as he, entering in the student's door as he burst through the one she knew led into his public office. He awarded her with a cursory glance before he beckoned her to follow him. It was extremely annoying to be forced to trot after him like a little lapdog, yapping at his heels. Damn the arrogant bastard! Hermione had pushed all thoughts about last night far into the deepest recesses of her mind, perhaps for later contemplation, and was now entirely focused on the man who tried to make Potions class for his Gryffindor students as close to hell as he could get. She gnashed her teeth as she nearly lost sight of which way he turned when he disappeared down a hidden hall. It did not help her mood to see the exasperation on his face when he was forced to retrace his steps and rescue her from confusion. By the time he stepped into a room, whispering the password so quietely she couldn't hear, she was absolutely furious and almost ready to show it.
"Here. The password is 'It is a far, far better rest that I go to'. A bit long, but few students here would recognize it." He held her eyes for a moment, as if in challenge of identification of the man who penned the line. She accepted it easily.
"Charles Dickens, of mixed heritage, his mother being a witch, his father, a muggle, celebrated for his works in both the muggle and wizarding worlds. I must say that I prefer the magickal version of 'A Tale of Two Cities', having as it does the undertones of the magickal community during that fearful time in revolutionary France. I've read both texts of course, although I rather doubt-." Her skeptical and slightly superior glance was broken by his biting tone.
"I do believe that I have told you, Granger, not to assume. You never know what might happen as a result. As it is, I am familiar with both sets of his work, although I find him to be a tedious read. 'A Tale of Two Cities' is by far the best of his works that I have read." He was rather surprised when the girl's eyes lit up with excitement.
"Oh, do you think so, too? Nearly everyone else considers him to be an author with few to parallel his worth, but I didn't enjoy any of his works save the one that the password is from." She stopped herself from surmising aloud that she would have supposed this to be the one he liked the most. He arched an eyebrow at her.
"Better, girl, although you would do well not to let even the whisper of the assumption across your face. To any opponent worthy of deception, such an act would be as fatal as uttering it aloud. But there…may be hope for you yet." Hermione stood staring at him for a moment, but recollected herself much faster than he might have thought.
"All right, Professor, but 'how to be a Slytherin' lessons aside, of which I doubt I will have need, I believe the last time that we met we were discussing the various reasons flight apparatus is used in immortality potion."
"Ah, yes. I have given no little thought to the situation. Perhaps they are used metaphorically, to give the drinker the wings with which to escape death."
"But there are no properties in the ingredients that would truly allow them to do this, nothing that would react in such a way as to-." Professor Snape cut her off sharply again.
"Think like a wizard, girl, not a muggle chemist. Magick depends on intention, and on thought; not only on what happens if you put certain chemicals and atoms together. I have done a great deal of research on muggle methods, and although there is nothing to be shameful in their work, we can do more. The flying apparatus gives the intention of fleeing death, therefore they do so." Hermione nodded, cursing herself for acting so muggle in front of her stern, pureblood professor. He must have seen the slight tightening of her skin, for he spoke in softer terms. "I understand that thinking like this is more difficult for those children not born to wizarding customs and processes of thought, but you can and you will do it. You are a witch, Granger, and you will act like one when you are in here with me. Else, when you go out into the rest of the world, all the books in the world aren't going to help you if you are still a foreigner despite your years of training." Hermione nodded again, more determinedly this time.
"So if we found the correct counter to the flight property-."
"We could begin to destroy the other properties of the potion. But every little bit will take a lot of work and a lot of research, for I won't have haphazard guessing in this lab."
"Understood, sir. We still have the rest of these books to go through before we have even a basic listing, so…" Snape acquiesced with her silent suggestion and they both sat on adjacent and equally hard stools, bending over dusty books set on high Potions tables.
Hermione hissed in genuine pain as she discovered that the hours of sitting in one position, and such an uncomfortable one as hers had been, had frozen her muscles into anguished knots that refused to relent. She couldn't even reach her wand, set beside the book she had just closed. A careful sideways glance at Snape showed him immersed in a text. But as she gave another quiet groan of pain as she attempted to move again, it was apparent that he was not completely oblivious to the rest of the room as she had thought. He had remembered to save his back this trouble and had shifted about the room as they worked.
Snape winced in sympathy when he heard Miss Granger groan. A lifelong bookworm himself, he knew well the pain of sitting hunched over, reading, for hours. He had done so himself at her age. It was only now, after many years of experience, that he remembered not to stay in a single position. In fact, he still forgot sometimes. Unfortunately, he had neglected to remind Miss Granger. In defense of himself, he really wasn't used to working with another person. Although he was finding the experience…not completely unpleasant. He gracefully stepped a few feet to his left so that he was directly behind her. Scarcely aware of what he was doing, he reached out to massage her stiff shoulders, neck, and back. His slender white fingers danced intricately against the dark crimson color of the robes she was wearing. Intent on his work, he barely noticed the small sigh of pleasure she emitted as he released the tension gathered in her muscles. It was only when she arched back into his hands happily that he realized what he was doing, and dropped his hands from her body as though he had been burned. She rolled her shoulders sinuously, releasing any remaining tension, then turned around to face him with a face full of gratitude.
"Thank you, Professor," she said simply, as though nothing unusual had occurred. His mind stilled for a moment, then regained its normal speed.
"Never mind, Granger, I've done that to myself many times and always wished someone was there who could help. Now, it is…shit." Hermione's eyes widened at his expletive until she too hastily cast a time charm and saw just how long they had been down here. Although Snape had conjured drinks two or three times, and a tray of snacks, the snacks had gone fairly untouched. Both had been much too absorbed in their work to bother with such crude earthly matters. It was about nine in the evening. Neither had eaten all day. Neither was a stranger to such an occurrence, but both still felt the result.
"I concur, Professor. Would you like to join me in the kitchens for a meal?" Severus thought about declining the gracious invitation, but not only was he starving, he had found that he enjoyed her company. Not that he would admit that to anyone other than himself. He knew well that she was only doing this with him because she felt it was the right thing to do to help with the war and would give her accolades for her future career.
"All right. I'm sure they will be able to rustle up something for two weary researchers." As they walked through the castle, Severus couldn't help but ask the mischievous question which plagued his mind. "Have you finally given up on SPEW-ing your thoughts of House Elf Liberation to the elves of Hogwarts?" Hermione glared up at him, though he could tell that there was no malice in the look.
"That was most unfunny, sir. I have come to the conclusion that the House Elves at Hogwarts are really quite happy in their current situation."
"You came to the conclusion that it was a thankless and futile task to attempt to free a populace that resented your attempts." They had reached the entrance to the kitchens
Hermione turned around right before disappearing into the realm of the House Elves. He thought he was in for it and steeled himself for a tirade like that which she had given last Sunday. She flashed him a soft, brilliant smile.
"Very true." And she was gone. He took a moment to compose himself, and then followed swiftly after. Perhaps in more than just the physical sense.
As always, my intense thanks to those who took the time to give me some comments. The muses were very demanding about getting this chapter out tonight in gratitude.
**Stellar Snape: Hmm, the weird thing is, I don't see Harry being so total an asshole. Well, he is being one, but its basically because he realizes just how screwed up his life is. He is…I actually got the age wrong when I was beginning this; Harry has his seventeenth birthday right before school. I'll change it later, if it becomes important. Anyways, he is only seventeen and he sees this man who has killed his parents and friends and continues to wreak havoc on the world that has been so good to him, and he sits inside a fancy castle while other people are out there dying. It makes him bitter and hard, and he thinks that he is turning dark. Not sure whether he really is. The muses may deign to tell me sometime. And so he takes it out on the people he loves. He may get better, he may not. *shrug*. Thank you so much for the comment about the Death Eater gathering being well-written, I wanted it to be gory and primitive but I also am not so good at writing stuff like that. And yes, Narcissa is definitely fawning, vicious, but harmless because of her general incompetence; Snape has no time for her or the rest of the Death Eaters. Unless he is trying to figure out how to kill them, that is.
**WindexWarriors: Oh my goodness! Um…here's some crack? Er, story, I meant story, of course. *grin* My chapters are rarely out this quickly, but my muses were happy. Thanks for the review.
**FaerieFingers/Thimbles/Alice: I hope you review again! It especially makes me and the muses happy when someone cares about the story enough to review twice. Don't worry, rambling is good and I am very glad that you like this. Constructive criticism is lovely, but just hearing that someone is reading is okay, too. Please let me know if you got my notification email.
**Rebecca: Don't worry about useful comments; its also important to me to just know that there are people reading this and caring to take a few moments to tell me what they like/hate/don't understand about it. Thank you.
**Eternal Queen: No stopping in near future:D
**Allegra: Oh, I hope that I didn't lose you since your prediction didn't come true. That was definitely a possibility there for a while, but the muses made the final decision. Don't worry, though; they'll have plenty more fights and lots more tension if I have anything to say about it. Which, unfortunately, I don't. But still. Oh, I'm so glad that I am not the only one who feels this way, although I've learned to just carefully avoid those that seem as they are going to annoy me. That was such an incredibly *nice* thing to say about me and my story that my muses did some happy little flips in the air. Please tell me if you got my notification email. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
**Lollylips3: Thanks very much, and here we go with the continuation
**Xanthos: Yes, Snape has a hard time of life, as does anyone living in war time. Glad you approve; I don't know that it is going to figure largely into the story, but the muses said they wanted it to be there, so in went the photography hobby. Did this chapter meet with your approval?
**Nightflower: I'm glad, and thank you.
**Jenthewriter: Thanks for the well-constructed comments; I've done that with stories as well, but I am hoping that you stick with me as we progress through this oneJ
**Anya: Glad that you think so; characterization is something that I am trying to work on:D
**Becka: Heehee. Although I don't take pleasure in being cruel, there is something to be said for cliffhangers. Not one in this chapter, though. Although it may seem like there was a big jump in their relationship in this chapter, it wasn't really; its still going to take some time to get there, and I'm glad that you like that. I know only too well those other types of fics, and though some of them can be really good, they aren't my style.
**Go-seaward: Glad that you decided to review! I'm trying to work on my characterizations, so that is a lovely comment. Thanks!
**Sarah: Yes, there will be build-up, and build-up and then…well, you get the idea. But I will get to the climax and the relationship sometime. Although I've no idea whether they are the same. From the bits my muses have let me know, I don't think they are. Glad you like it.