A/N: And now for another chapter. The kittens haven't arrived yet, but Kylie (my sister) thinks there will be six. Here you go.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(just kidding!)

Chapter 13: Speaking Metaphorically

"Professor, aren't those clothes uncomfortable? You didn't have to change to what I was wearing."

"But aren't you astonished I could?"

"Well, admittedly, yes. Those are leather pants, and it just doesn't seem like you."

"Don't they? I used to wear all kinds of crazy fashions when I was younger, before I taught, I mean. Albus insists the memory still gives him nightmares." Snape thought for a moment. "And actually, it isn't like me to just transfigure things on the spot. Cassandra's face was worth it, even if Miss Weasley did seem to be staring at my crotch."

"She was not!"

"Evidently, you weren't, either." Snape maneuvered oddly on the broom, making a sudden ripping sound. "My zipper'd been down for quite awhile. You could have told me before we got this high. It's sodding cold! As soon as we land, we're changing to warmer things that aren't made of dead animals."

"You don't like fur?"

"No, I like fur a lot. You're wearing snakeskin. I had a pet snake once."

"I have a pet cat who's got lots of fur!"

"Don't tell me you have more than one soapbox? The Slytherins laughed over S.P.E.W. for quite awhile."

"I've been promoting house-elf literacy lately."

"Handing out cookbooks?"

"However did you guess?"

"Dobby brought me Chinese food the other night."

"How'd he do?"

"Can't you give him a Szechuan cookbook? I don't care for Cantonese as much."

"You're pickier than Crookshanks."

"At least the little crying one –what's her name?"

"Winky?"

"Yes, her –she's quit sobbing in favor of committing that Hershey's book to memory. If I find one more chocolate chip cookie on my night table, I'm going to start leaving tips for her!"

"You don't like chocolate chip?"

"I love it. I'm just bloody sick of it. Now oatmeal butterscotch cookies, even if they are a Muggle invention, now those are marvelous."

"I like oatmeal raisin, too."

"What's the point of that? Raisins aren't for cookies, they're too healthy. Chocolate is for cookies, leave raisins for bran muffins. It's like putting candied cherries into bagels and poppy seeds into fruitcake...it's just wrong!"

Hermione was still stifling giggles even as they landed.

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"I remember days full of restlessness and fury
I remember nights that were drunk on dreams
I remember someone who hungered for the glory
I remember her, but it seems she's gone..."

Why was she turning away from him? The dream had been both of theirs, and since the Master's second rise, Narcissa seemed so much less than interested. Was it because they had a child now? Draco had been born shortly after the Dark Lord's fall, but motherhood certainly didn't slow down the other wives. Why, just the other night Millie Parkinson had...nevermind her anyway. Lucius wanted only to think of distant Narcissa, so beautiful, so brilliant...

"Where's the girl?
Where's the girl with that blaze in her eyes?
Where's the girl with the gaze of surprise?
Now and then I still dream she's beside me..."

She hadn't gone to a Dark Revel in years. She also had a bedroom of her own, which had once been just for when Lucius was away, but now which she slept in alone every night. It seemed months since she had even looked at him.

"And I know she remembers how fearless it feels
To take off with the wind at her heels
She and I took this world like a storm!"

What would it take to tear her away from writing and whatever it was she did all day? Lucius tried to think. A holiday of some kind? The Dark Lord needed something done in France lately, and who would object to his and Narcissa's spending some time where they had honeymooned? The old chateau, where they had spent so many nights...

"Come again!
Let the girl in your heart tumble free
Bring your renegade heart home to me
In the dark of the morning I'll warm you
I'll rouse you..."

"Cissy?"

"Oh, what is it now, Lucius? I've just finished the most lovely scene –pity you haven't read Chekhov or it'd be quite funny –would you ring for Debby? I need a bath; I positively reek of literature –and ink. Look at my fingers. Bloody quills! Do you suppose a Muggle typewriter would be ridiculous? I've been thinking about a new story..."

"Talk to you later," Lucius sighed, shutting the boudoir door. Narcissa sighed herself -with relief, and sent the note she had been writing off by owl to Dumbledore. She knew she was betraying the man she loved for the greater good. Sometimes it burned her soul like one of Severus' potions burned her tongue.

"Am I dreaming, or is she beside me now?"

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Professor Snape landed the broom near Hagrid's cabin and helped Hermione off. It was long past dark and they had simply eaten dinner in Muggle London. She had introduced him to a glorious crunchy food called 'crisps' and he had shown her a particularly interesting trick on the broom he had learned in his Quidditch days. She didn't fly very well and had been slightly frightened, but then when he put his arms around her it was all alright –even wonderful.

"I had a great time, Hermione."

"I did as well, Severus."

"How will I get used to calling you 'Miss Granger' again in time for class?"

"It would be worse for me to call you 'Severus'!" she joked.

"Or if I said 'yes, dear?' when you raised your hand!"

"Or if I answered a question and called you 'darling'!"

"This must be the best way to fall in love, the way third years do," Severus observed, unaware of what he had just said. "A few stolen kisses, long talks over the cauldron and plenty of Mandrake juice...you've gone ashen! Are you alright?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine. You were saying-?"

"Just that this is the best way to –oh." Severus looked just as surprised as Hermione did. "I don't suppose...you don't think-?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. Suddenly Severus leaned over and kissed her properly.

"I've always sort of wanted to hear you say that," he explained.

After an elaborately faked curt 'Good night, Miss Granger,' at the foot of the stairs, Severus took the secret back flight up and met his student near the Fat Lady. He whistled a snatch of a Beatles song, and sure enough, she went around the corner and found him.

"Severus? Is that you?"

"Did I get your attention?"

"Yes!" She gave him a gentle hug and patted him on the cheek. "In the future, though, don't whistle 'Lady Madonna' to make me notice you."

"Good night, dear."

"Good night, darling."

A second later, Hermione walked back around the corner and was surprised to see a giggling Cass and a profoundly shocked Ginny. "So, Mrs. Levi, I see the welts are better?"

"Crookshanks left you a dish of milk," Cass retorted, still looking just a little too mirthful. "No need to get catty. I think you may have just brain-damaged Ginny here."

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"So what did you do?"

"We bought books and went to the library-"

"Oh, naturally!"

"And we had dinner and we flew home and here I am."

"That's all?"

"Oh, yes, we did get some Muggle ice-cream afterwards. Would you believe he's never seen sprinkles that don't move?"

"Oh, how disappointing!" Ginny looked perturbed. "All that shock value and you haven't even shagged the guy!"

"Don't be a smutbunny, Gins, it's only their first date." Cass spoke with the wisdom of a higher grade, if not exactly a professor. "Shagging is a very serious thing, unless of course you're doing it for sport."

"Sport?"

"Yes. Such as seducing your way through a private school...a rectory's sort of a protected species, we aren't supposed to go poaching those."

"Are you comparing Severus to a monk?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Good lord, no. I thought you of all people would find that comparison ridiculous." Cass cracked open a soda and took a long slug of it. "My metaphors are a little mad, but I think you'll get them all eventually."

"Did you ever really sleep around?" Ginny asked. "I'm sorry, but it just sounds sort of fascinating."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Gins. John's the only dish I've tasted, and he doesn't need any salt."

"Okay, that metaphor-"

"Was disgusting, yes. I think I've sort of run out of tasteful ones by this late at night."

"Wouldn't your teeth –er, when you do that?" Ginny asked.

"Considering trying out Harry's wand, are you?" Cass inquired. "Wasn't that an awful one? Hermione, have you still got the book?"

"Which book?" Lavender asked, opening the door of the girls' dorm. "Oh, professor! I didn't expect to see you here."

"No matter, Lavender, I'm only holding court. The book, Hermione. You know, the one I co-wrote."

"Oh. Smut Goes To Rome."

"That isn't what I named it...good title though. Want to help me write a sequel and we'll call it that?"

"What is the book about?" Lavender asked. After just one of Professor Tyler's classes, Divination was starting to look a little dull.

"Sex and stuff," Cass replied demurely. "John did the pictures and I wrote and took dictation."

"Is he –oh, your husband."

"Yes, the dishy redhaired one."

"Wow. He's hot. If you die, can I marry him?" Lavender suffered from terminal bluntness sometimes.

"Sure, as long as you don't kill me," Cass replied. "Ginny had a question."

Ginny went appropriately scarlet.

"I've got a few, myself," Hermione added, so as to spare her friend.

"Me, too!" chipped in Lavender. "Hey, Parvati! Ginny and Professor Tyler are here!"

"When the Slythies aren't around, you can call me Cass," the American announced. "Let's get Dobby to bring up some more munchies, and I've got plenty of soda. Accio!"

A twelve-box of soda flew into the room and promptly fell apart. Cans rolled everywhere.

"Here, just open 'em like this. They're delicious Muggle drinks." The wizard-born girls took Hermione at her word and were soon tittering like gits about bubbles tickling their noses and asking whether there was any alcohol, except for Ginny, who was absorbed in a particularly engrossing paragraph of Cass's book.

"So that's what that word means! I'm going to kill Malfoy!"

"Which word?" Ginny told Cass. "Oh, no, Gins, leave it all to me. I've got the loveliest new idea for a prank on that little prick..."

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A/N: Reviews for the plot kittens? Actually, I think my pet bunny does the plot, and the kitties do the humor. Considering I have one bunny and eight cats, that sort of explains a bit. I got the nastiest, most peppery email from somebody claiming that I was too preoccupied with being funny to write a really meaningful story. Who, me? I don't try to be funny, it just...sort of happens. My parents are actors, for Merlin's sake, what do you expect? Either way, a review or two's always nice.

-J.McN.