Once Hermione had packed Neville off to see Draco, she decided to go and
find the love of her own life. She had an ulterior motive, and not just the
usual one. It seemed to her that Neville needed a reward over and above the
opportunity to snog Draco at his most vulnerable.
What she had in mind was deeply unethical and involved polyjuice potion and a donation of hair from Severus. After all, Draco could turn Neville down in which case he would need cheering up, and if he didn't turn him down it occurred to her that Draco was precisely the perverse sort of person who would find the idea of taking polyuice and impersonating Professor Snape for a shag entertaining.
Maybe two doses of polyjuice – they may want to take turns; Neville was very definitely a dark horse.
All this had to be achieved without Severus's knowledge, because she didn't think that his reaction to the news that Neville fancied him was going to be anything other than locking himself in his rooms and refusing to come out until term was over.
She wouldn't have minded if she would have been allowed to lock herself in there with him; but she suspected that the news would most likely render him incapable of performing for days and, whilst she was prepared to do a good deed for Neville, she wasn't prepared to take the risk that it would lead to a curtailment of her nocturnal (as well as morningal, afternoonal, and eveningal) activities.
Stealing from Severus's stores simply didn't have the same thrill now that she had a perfectly valid excuse to be there. All it would take, if she was caught, was the simple suggestion that she was looking for him perhaps coupled with a revelation about a fantasy about the storeroom and he would almost certainly be distracted. He wasn't there, so it was a simple case of giving the password, purloining the polyjuice and slipping it into her bag. Mission accomplished in less than ten minutes.
All she had to do then was head into his bedroom to swipe some hair, and it wasn't as if she would be unwelcome there either if he did find her, and at least she wouldn't have to fall back on some daft idea about a fantasy involving the storeroom. After all there were things in jars in there that had eyes, and she wasn't entirely certain that they were dead. She may have moved from relying on Madam Melchior's Marvellous Modulating Wand to exhausting but extremely satisfying sex – and she hoped Severus would calm down a bit soon, because she needed to sleep some time, but she hadn't got the heart to say no when he was a man on a mission – but she wasn't prepared to move into the rather advanced concept of shagging as performance art.
She triggered the wards and slipped inside. His hairbrush was sitting on the dressing table, and sure enough there were some long, dark hairs on it. She wrapped them carefully in a twist of paper, and looked round the room. She had some fond memories of this place, and soon she would be leaving, probably for good.
Oh well, while she was here........ She went back into the lounge, picked a book off the shelves and sat on the sofa. It might be nice to have a chat with Severus, and for once that wasn't a euphemism, she really did want to talk.
He was pleased to see her, which made her feel mildly guilty. He deposited himself next to her on the sofa with a decided flumph, and put an arm round her.
"I've missed this you know."
She just made a humming sound and then insinuated herself more firmly into his embrace.
He took a deep breath, gathered all his courage together, reminded himself that she had said that honesty was important and said, rather plaintively, "We never seem to talk any more."
He felt a little hurt when she just chuckled, and then immensely relieved that this honesty business seemed to pay off. "I was thinking the same thing."
"I thought...." he began tentatively, not sure how to bring up the Ron incident tactfully.
She sighed. "You thought because of Ron that I was a raving nymphomaniac?"
"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but something along those lines."
"Ron needed the practice," she said.
He digested that, worked out the implications, and felt flattered about the compliment buried in that short comment. "Oh. That's a relief; I'm an old man, and I need my sleep."
She shifted a little until she was looking at him and said, very earnestly, "You are not an old man, and you're not the only one that needs some sleep."
This was all working out very well, and so he decided to go for broke on the honest front. "Hermione, what did you steal from my storecupboard?"
There was a fraught silence, and then she said, "If I told you, I'd have to Obliviate you. In fact, if I told you, you'd beg me to Obliviate you."
"Ah." A pause. "So would I be right in thinking that it's polyjuice potion, and some of my hair, all wrapped up in a little parcel for Mr Longbottom."
An even longer pause. "You mean you knew."
"I didn't know, not until you just told me."
"Not about the polyjuice; I mean about Neville," she said, a trifle impatiently.
"Oh, that. It's been obvious since his sixth year. Haven't you ever wondered why I've never given him detention despite all the cauldrons he's melted?"
Now she thought about it, it seemed obvious. There had been a lot of sneering, some shouting, deduction of points into triple figures but never a detention.
"Blimey," she said.
"So next time you want to set up a tryst involving my polyjuice double, perhaps you'll just ask me for my hair?" he said in an airy manner.
"I can't think that's going to happen more than once in my lifetime," she said "I don't like sharing my toys."
"If I said the same thing about you, you'd be up in arms," he said, sounding amused.
"I know, but no one ever said life was fair."
He couldn't argue with that; it was the entire basis of his teaching technique after all. So, wisely, he didn't try, and just pulled her more firmly against him and dropped a kiss on her hair.
What she had in mind was deeply unethical and involved polyjuice potion and a donation of hair from Severus. After all, Draco could turn Neville down in which case he would need cheering up, and if he didn't turn him down it occurred to her that Draco was precisely the perverse sort of person who would find the idea of taking polyuice and impersonating Professor Snape for a shag entertaining.
Maybe two doses of polyjuice – they may want to take turns; Neville was very definitely a dark horse.
All this had to be achieved without Severus's knowledge, because she didn't think that his reaction to the news that Neville fancied him was going to be anything other than locking himself in his rooms and refusing to come out until term was over.
She wouldn't have minded if she would have been allowed to lock herself in there with him; but she suspected that the news would most likely render him incapable of performing for days and, whilst she was prepared to do a good deed for Neville, she wasn't prepared to take the risk that it would lead to a curtailment of her nocturnal (as well as morningal, afternoonal, and eveningal) activities.
Stealing from Severus's stores simply didn't have the same thrill now that she had a perfectly valid excuse to be there. All it would take, if she was caught, was the simple suggestion that she was looking for him perhaps coupled with a revelation about a fantasy about the storeroom and he would almost certainly be distracted. He wasn't there, so it was a simple case of giving the password, purloining the polyjuice and slipping it into her bag. Mission accomplished in less than ten minutes.
All she had to do then was head into his bedroom to swipe some hair, and it wasn't as if she would be unwelcome there either if he did find her, and at least she wouldn't have to fall back on some daft idea about a fantasy involving the storeroom. After all there were things in jars in there that had eyes, and she wasn't entirely certain that they were dead. She may have moved from relying on Madam Melchior's Marvellous Modulating Wand to exhausting but extremely satisfying sex – and she hoped Severus would calm down a bit soon, because she needed to sleep some time, but she hadn't got the heart to say no when he was a man on a mission – but she wasn't prepared to move into the rather advanced concept of shagging as performance art.
She triggered the wards and slipped inside. His hairbrush was sitting on the dressing table, and sure enough there were some long, dark hairs on it. She wrapped them carefully in a twist of paper, and looked round the room. She had some fond memories of this place, and soon she would be leaving, probably for good.
Oh well, while she was here........ She went back into the lounge, picked a book off the shelves and sat on the sofa. It might be nice to have a chat with Severus, and for once that wasn't a euphemism, she really did want to talk.
He was pleased to see her, which made her feel mildly guilty. He deposited himself next to her on the sofa with a decided flumph, and put an arm round her.
"I've missed this you know."
She just made a humming sound and then insinuated herself more firmly into his embrace.
He took a deep breath, gathered all his courage together, reminded himself that she had said that honesty was important and said, rather plaintively, "We never seem to talk any more."
He felt a little hurt when she just chuckled, and then immensely relieved that this honesty business seemed to pay off. "I was thinking the same thing."
"I thought...." he began tentatively, not sure how to bring up the Ron incident tactfully.
She sighed. "You thought because of Ron that I was a raving nymphomaniac?"
"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but something along those lines."
"Ron needed the practice," she said.
He digested that, worked out the implications, and felt flattered about the compliment buried in that short comment. "Oh. That's a relief; I'm an old man, and I need my sleep."
She shifted a little until she was looking at him and said, very earnestly, "You are not an old man, and you're not the only one that needs some sleep."
This was all working out very well, and so he decided to go for broke on the honest front. "Hermione, what did you steal from my storecupboard?"
There was a fraught silence, and then she said, "If I told you, I'd have to Obliviate you. In fact, if I told you, you'd beg me to Obliviate you."
"Ah." A pause. "So would I be right in thinking that it's polyjuice potion, and some of my hair, all wrapped up in a little parcel for Mr Longbottom."
An even longer pause. "You mean you knew."
"I didn't know, not until you just told me."
"Not about the polyjuice; I mean about Neville," she said, a trifle impatiently.
"Oh, that. It's been obvious since his sixth year. Haven't you ever wondered why I've never given him detention despite all the cauldrons he's melted?"
Now she thought about it, it seemed obvious. There had been a lot of sneering, some shouting, deduction of points into triple figures but never a detention.
"Blimey," she said.
"So next time you want to set up a tryst involving my polyjuice double, perhaps you'll just ask me for my hair?" he said in an airy manner.
"I can't think that's going to happen more than once in my lifetime," she said "I don't like sharing my toys."
"If I said the same thing about you, you'd be up in arms," he said, sounding amused.
"I know, but no one ever said life was fair."
He couldn't argue with that; it was the entire basis of his teaching technique after all. So, wisely, he didn't try, and just pulled her more firmly against him and dropped a kiss on her hair.
