Lend me your love tonight

by Katta (KET on ff.net)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it.

Chapter 5: Chess moves

Hermione's first full day at Hogwarts was fraught. Not only did she have to teach her first ever lessons, but she spent all day worrying about the chess match. Probably Snape would beat her in ten minutes flat and then sneer at her for pretending to be able to play.

So it was with some trepidation that she approached the Headmaster's study that evening. However, Snape was perfectly civil when he opened the door. Hermione looked round but couldn't see the chess board anywhere.

Snape saw her looking and in reply to her unasked question said, 'We'll be more comfortable in here.' He lead the way through a door into a circular drawing room beyond the study. It was almost completely empty of furniture. Hermione got the impression that Snape had cleared out Dumbledore's stuff and then not had the energy or enthusiasm to replace it with anything. The only concession to comfort was a fire burning in the grate against the early September Scottish chill. The chess board stood on just about the only piece of furniture there was – an elegant games table with slender legs and Hermione sat down on one of two chairs beside it.

'Drink?' asked Snape.

'Yes, please,' said Hermione, feeling very much in need of a drink.

'I have some rather fine muggle single-malt whisky,' said Snape.

Hermione, who was rather partial to a snifter of 'fine muggle single-malt whisky', said that would be nice. 'Neat, please,' she added, earning a look of approval from Snape. She stifled a giggle at the thought of his face if she had asked from brandy and babycham like Ginny used to drink when she was younger.

Snape obviously felt the need to say some suitable words as her employer. With his back turned to her, he asked, 'Settling in all right?'

Hermione didn't think that this was the time or place to tell him that she found the new staff unfriendly and snooty and the students extraordinarily stressed about homework and exam results. So she just said, 'Fine.'

Duty done, Snape abandoned chit chat, handed Hermione the drink and settled down to the chess game.

Hermione had been telling the truth when she said she liked chess, but that didn't mean that she was all that good at it. With her analytic mind and excellent memory, she could play a passable defensive game, but she lacked the flair and determination to attack effectively. Snape tried several straightforward attacks which she parried easily, but his greater experience won through in the end and by midnight he had defeated her.

'I think I'm a little out of practice,' said Hermione by way of apology.

'Then we'd better make sure you get some practice,' said Snape. 'Would Friday night suit you?'

Hermione was so surprised that she could think of no excuse to decline. And she had in fact been rather worried about what to do on Friday night. Very few staff remained at school at weekends and much as she liked them, she didn't really want to spend the evening in the staff room with Flitwick and Binns.

'Friday would be nice,' she replied.

~@~@~@~

After Hermione had gone, Snape sat down at the chess board with the intention of running through the game in his mind. Instead he found himself thinking of Hermione. Her face, her hair, her hand and slender arm, the swell of her breast under the teaching robes … Before he knew where he was, he found himself with an erection.

He stood up rather suddenly and said savagely out loud, 'Well, there is no chance of her ever letting you do that  to her, so you might as well forget it, old boy.' And then he swept out the room in search of some students out of bed that he could crucify.

~@~@~@~

Hermione quickly settled into a routine. She found that she quite enjoyed teaching, although all the marking was a drag. After a week or so she began to notice the word 'resits' creeping into more and more conversations that she overheard among the student. She couldn't remember any resits from her schooldays and eventually she asked Flitwick about it.

'The students who failed their exams last summer will be sitting resits this autumn,' he said cautiously.

Hermione remembered that students were in theory required to pass the exams each year to continue at the school. In practice, she couldn't remember anyone ever being expelled for failing exams. She was surprised that Snape would have relaxed the rules to allow resits, and she said so.

Flitwick stroked his chin and said, 'Well, the exams were a lot harder this year. Headmaster Snape is very keen to raise academic standards, you know.'

Now she began to understand.

'So – a lot of students failed in June, did they?'

Flitwick nodded.

'And what happens if they fail the resits?'

'They will be expelled.'

Hermione was appalled. This seemed to be an intolerable pressure to place on children and teenagers. She probed Flitwick to see if he would express outrage, but he was very guarded. It seemed that he was unwilling to criticise Snape publicly. And – being head of Ravenclaw – he was lucky to be in charge of the brightest students, so it wasn't really his problem.

And – at the end of the day – Hermione persuaded herself that it wasn't really her problem, either. Some careful inquiries around her classes ascertained that no one was facing resits in aithmancy. Apparently, Vector had long practised a policy of admitting only the cleverest and most talented students to her subject and they had all survived the June exams, even with the raised standard.

There were plenty of other things that were Hermione's problems. Not to with arithmancy so much, but more to do with the pastoral care she was called upon to give to the Gryffindors.

And her own situation was a problem – she felt very isolated. As explained by Snape, most of the staff now lived away from the castle. Some stayed there during the week, but at the weekends it was really only the Headmaster, the four Heads of Houses and the matron around. Apart from Flitwick, who was now very elderly, Hermione found it difficult to get on with the Heads of the Houses. The Head of Hufflepuff was little witch from Norfolk called Elmira Mopps. Hermione tried to engage her in conversation on several occasions, but found her totally uninspiring. Worse, the Head of Slytherin was a pure blood wizard called Mottram Malfoy, a distant cousin of Draco's. He made no secret of the fact that he resented a muggle born head of Gryffindor. Hermione would rather have cut off her right arm than converse with him. And the matron kept herself to herself and was rarely seen by the rest of the staff. So weekends were pretty dire affairs.

Hermione's nature took over and she devoted herself to work, but there was only so much work she could do. She was vaguely aware that the resits were happening, but snowed under with her own problems, she ignored them. Ignored everything apart from her work, in fact.

If it hadn't been for the chess matches with Snape, she would have been very lonely and unhappy.

Hermione had got more and more adept at blocking his moves, forcing a draw, time and time again. Snape, who always played to win, was forced into ever more daring strategies to outwit her. And finally he overreached himself so that, one fine day, in the middle of October, Hermione spotted a weakness in his attack and beat him. This was not repeated, but nevertheless left her feeling very proud. The chess matches were becoming a highlight in her existence. Somehow she was growing very comfortable in Snape's presence and yet they never spoke of anything but chess.

One of the things about Hogwarts that was particularly getting Hermione down was the food. When she was student, she had liked the food in the Great Hall. Seen with adult eyes, it was so obviously chosen for its blandness and bulk to satisfy both choosy children and teenage boys in need of large portions. Hermione looked down at her plate of stew and dumplings, roast potatoes and over-cooked carrots,  and wanted to scream.

She didn't have to eat in the Great Hall, of course, and attached to her rooms was a small kitchen, fully equipped with pots and pans, crockery and cutlery. She could cook her own food whenever she wanted, but it seemed sad somehow to cook a meal for one, so all she had used it for was to make the odd cup of tea or coffee. Now an idea began to grow in her head, born out of boredom and loneliness.

She decided to strike while the iron was hot, before she had time to change her mind. On leaving Snape's room after their very next chess game (a draw), she turned in the door and said, 'I have been thinking of cooking a meal on Friday. Would you join me for dinner?'

Snape looked up, startled.

'Dinner? But I need to be seen eating my meals in the Great Hall.'

'So – push your food around your plate and join me for a proper dinner later. I assure you the food will be very much more palatable.'

~@~@~@~

Snape still didn't quite know why he had accepted the invitation. Of course, he was perfectly within his rights to eat a quiet meal with one of his staff in their rooms. But it wasn't something anyone expected of him, that's all. Not to put too fine a point on it: no one had ever invited him before. He spent the night tossing and turning trying to figure it out. Finally he read the riot act to himself: he musn't read too much into this – Hermione was lonely and wanted to cook a meal and he was the only one of even approximately her age who was around at weekends. That was all there was to it. He probably shouldn't have accepted, but what harm could it do – really? And her food probably was better than that in the Great Hall…

~@~@~@~

Hermione had a period without lessons after lunch on a Friday, so she dashed off to Hogsmeade to get the ingredients for her meal. She was planning roast tomato soup with basil garnish for starters. For the main course, she wanted to do fish because decent fish dishes was one of the things she missed most. Fish at Hogwarts was either fish fingers or the unidentifiable lumps of cod or haddock deep fried in batter with chips served ever Friday. Well, she could cook a lovely Dover soul and prawn dish. She found an old fashioned fishmonger in Hogsmeade and spent a happy while choosing her fish. Then she popped into an off licence to get some fine Chablis. And finally some freshly ground coffee – she didn't think that she could fool Snape by making instant coffee in the kitchen while imitating the noise of a percolator in the manner of the instant coffee advert she had seen on her parents TV.

As soon as lessons had finished, she began her cooking. Using a mixture of muggle methods and magic, cooking was really very easy, she reflected as she allowed the soup to whizz itself into a smooth mixture. She dug into a trunk of household goods that she had hardly touched since she arrived and unearthed a snowy white starched linen table cloth and napkins. She had considered putting a single red rose on the table in a beautiful silver vase she had, but had decided that it would look too much like a romantic meal à deux, which this wasn't (was it?). Instead she had settled on a bouquet of miniature roses. And absolutely no candles on the table.

Snape arrived bang on 9 o'clock. He was wearing his normal black robes, but Hermione noticed that he had washed his hair. Would wonders never cease?

The chit chat over dinner flowed reasonably smoothly and amiably. They both stayed off topics that might lead to controversy. Like, why had the standards in the exams been raised so that nearly a fifth of the students had failed two or more exams last summer? Or, why had Hermione awarded exactly a twenty house points for 'nice dress sense' to a couple of Gryffindors who had had twenty house points deducted by Snape for 'sniggering in a public place'?

The food and the wine both played their part and they were leaning confidentially towards each other over the table while choosing chocolates and sipping coffee. Hermione knew she was slightly drunk and had stopped wondering about anything. Snape was beginning to hope against hope that she was actually finding her company pleasant.

And then … their quite tête à tête was interrupted by frantic knocking.

'Come in,' shouted Hermione.

In burst Felicity Macmahon, the Head Girl, with a desperate look on her face. 'Professor Granger! Headmaster! Thank God I found you!' she blurted out. 'It's Melkior Morgan. I think he is dead!'

A/N: Challenge requirements number two and three: chess game and lots of alcohol being consumed (well, the latter was no problem – that always happens in my stories anyway).