Bubble Bath 9

The boys were eager to help pay back Malfoy for seven years of aggravation and were looking at Severus with open-mouthed anticipation. It wasn't a pretty sight.

"The worst thing that could happen to young Mr Malfoy," he said, "would be to force him to tell the truth for an entire day."

For a second he thought that the idea was too subtle for the boys to appreciate, but judging from the evil grin that crossed Weasley's – Ron's, he must remember that – face, the penny had dropped without the need for prolonged and tedious explanations. Ron took a long moment to revel in the prospect before, seeing the blank look that so frequently covered Harry's face, he explained. "Think about it, Harry. He'll be forced to tell the truth to everyone. Can you imagine how long he'll last when Pansy he tells Pansy or anyone else what he really thinks about them?"

Severus was mildly concerned to see the considering look that Hermione was giving him. What had he done wrong now? He had come up with a plan; Malfoy would be punished. Surely she should be happy.

He was distracted when Harry said, "But won't that mean Malfoy will tell anyone who asks him about Hermione and ...." he swallowed hard before saying it ".... Sev ..... Professor Snape."

"I'll take care of that with a binding charm," Severus said. "I'd have to do it anyway, because I don't trust the little sod to keep quiet."

The boys accepted that, and Harry seemed pleased to hear Draco described as a little sod where previously he had thought that Professor Snape actually liked him. It didn't mean that he liked Snape any more than he did before, and it certainly didn't mean that Snape liked Harry any more than he did before, but it did mean that Harry wasn't alone in being disliked by Snape, and that Draco wasn't the admired golden boy he had always thought. Odd enough, it made him feel better.

"How will we get that potion into him," Ron mused. "We can't just slip it into his drink, Dumbledore might find out and I don't fancy getting expelled so close to the end of my time at Hogwarts."

There was silence for several minutes, whilst the conspirators thought.

Hermione broke the silence. "Neville."

Ron looked at her and grinned. "Neville," he agreed.

Severus was glad when Harry asked the question he was dying to, but couldn't, without looking like an idiot. "What do you mean, Neville?"

Hermione threw him an irritated glance then explained. "It's quite simple Harry. No one would be surprised if Neville had a freak accident in Potions that turned the contents of his cauldron into a truth potion. Not Veritaserum, because that could override the binding charm, something weaker. Severus can then make Draco test the potion and no one will suspect that he is being other than his usual bastard self. Result: one potion administered to the ferret."

She was aware that the boys were looking at her in a slightly stunned way. "What?"

"You just called Professor Snape a bastard," said Harry, breathless with admiration.

She smiled at Severus, and moved a little closer to him on the sofa. "I can call the man I love a bit of a bastard if I want, no one else gets to though."

Severus, whose hackles had been up, found that this declaration disarmed him completely. He found this forbearance didn't worry him as much as it should, even when Ron said cheerfully, "Don't worry Professor, we won't tell anyone differently."

"Not if you want to pass your Potions Newt you won't." But Ron could tell his heart wasn't in it, and merely grinned at him impertinently.

Some signal passed between Ron and Hermione, because he looked startled, then amused, before saying to Harry, "Come on, let's go and find Neville and talk to him about this. I think he'll need a lot of persuading and we'd better start early if we want to do it this week."

Harry followed Ron to the door, and then turned back in surprise when he realised that Hermione wasn't following them. He opened his mouth to speak, but fortunately realisation dawned before he managed to make himself look too stupid. He blushed bright red, stammered out a goodbye and left.

Ron rolled his eyes at Professor Snape, who tried very hard not to smile, and then shut the door.

"Alone at last," sighed Hermione, leaning into him.

Severus looked at her a little nervously. It was probably a little early in the relationship to be able to say things like: I'm a forty year old man and not a sex machine, despite all evidence to the contrary over the last few days, and GODS I need to sleep, but please stay anyway.

"Severus," she said, drawing his name out. "Did you mean what you just said?"

Damn it, he thought, give me a clue. Did I mean what?

Seeing his look of confusions, she explained, "About the worse thing that could happen to Malfoy was being forced to tell the truth."

Ah.

Ooops.

He had, in a roundabout, sort of way, indicated that Slytherins were strangers to the truth, and he suspected that Hermione had strong views on the need for honesty in a relationship. So did he. Honesty was not the best policy, and that most relationships needed a certain amount of lying to survive. It was a lubricant that avoided friction, and allowed the couple to rub along together in relative harmony.

"Yes," he said cautiously. He didn't really want to have this discussion now; he was tired. Here it came.

"Because, of course, a relationship needs a certain amount of honesty to survive."

He opened his mouth to disagree, when the presence of the qualifying word 'honesty' registered. Aware that his mouth was open, and that Hermione was watching him with amusement, he snapped it shut.

"Only a certain amount," he ventured.

"I think so don't you. I mean, if I ask you if my hair looks a mess the proper response is 'not at all, dear' even if it looks like a nest site for a flock of crows. But if I ask you if something's wrong, you should tell me if there is."

He nodded. He had underestimated her common sense. He took a deep breath and said, "Hermione, I want you to stay here with me, but can we please get some sleep because I'm knackered."

"Thank god you said that," she said, "I'm knackered myself. You've worn me out."

He felt a faint tinge of pride. He'd sorted out the boys, arranged a necessary lesson in not-messing-with-the-Potions-Master for Draco, worn out a much younger lover, successfully side-stepped the issue of honesty, (note to self: never insult the hair), and was about to get some well-earned sleep, and then wake up rejuvenated to an armful of Hermione.

On the whole, he really was rather good.