Title: The Absinthe of Reason
Author: Mundungus42
Rating: R (getting there...)
Disclaimer: I do not sail on the S. S. Ownership. I occasionally canoe, though.
Summary: Response to the WIKTT Gryffindor Stud challenge
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thursday evening at supper, Hermione's posture was more erect than usual, and a close observer might have noticed a determined glint in her eye to match the becoming flush in her cheek. As it was, the only difference her mates noticed was that the toad-in-the-hole was decidedly skimpy on sausages. She had to admit, sausages were a safe topic of conversation.
Hermione hadn't spoken about the Stud of Gryffindor title at length with any of the boys since that fateful night, which was probably for the best. Harry and Ron still weren't speaking to each other, and this was one fight she had no desire to mediate. Still, it hadn't been that difficult to avoid them. Between homework, her potions lessons, NEWTs study, and Quidditch, the only times she saw any of her fellow Gryffindor Stud hopefuls were over meals. However, the proximity of everyone's objects of affection and the danger of being overheard deterred any in-depth group discussion. When Hermione attempted to exchange a significant look at Seamus, he looked pointedly at Parvati and shook his head.
Judging by the half-stifled giggle Lavender and Parvati shared, Hermione figured Padma already knew about Seamus's participation in the Stud of Gryffindor competition. She would have tried to warn Seamus, but Harry and Ron had started kicking one another under the table. An ill-placed kick from Harry elicited a sharp "Hey!" from Dean, and soon the entire table had become embroiled in a kicking battle. Sensing Professor McGonagall's approach, Hermione seized the opportunity to leave for her lesson with Snape.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione strode into the potions classroom with the air of confidence that only really fantastic underwear can lend. Even Snape seemed to notice.
"There's no need to look so cheerful, Miss Granger," he said. "You've got a long, hard slog ahead of you this evening. Psyche Potion requires constant stirring for an hour after you add the liqueur, and it will be no thinner than it was when you last saw it."
"It's not cheer exactly, sir, " she replied, "more like renewed vigour and excitement to see this potion through."
"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek. If you can't say anything sensible, I suggest that you remain silent."
"Yessir," she replied, undaunted.
He scowled at her. "I don't suppose, in your fit of good humour, that you had the opportunity to read the Vrabinsky book that I assigned for next week?"
"Of course, I did, sir."
"Then I you should have no problem identifying the ingredients in my cabinet and making a vodka martini."
"I thought you didn't like martinis, sir."
"I don't. This is for use in your potion, which you'd have known if you'd read Leuwenhoek's monograph on the effects of apple vodka on the Psyche Potion that was referenced in the Vrabinsky book."
"I tried to read it, sir, but the article is in Dutch and I couldn't find a translation of it anywhere."
"You obviously weren't looking or thinking hard enough," he said, without any real venom. "The Vrabinsky book came from my personal library. An English translation of the Leuwenhoek is also in my possession. The next time you require a text that is not in the library, speak with me before assuming it is unavailable to you."
He was giving her access to his personal library! "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He frowned. "Now, make the martini and get to work. When the clock strikes, you may add the final ingredients. The martini is to be poured steadily over the surface when the potion is finished. Do not stir. When you have bottled the potion, I will give you the Leuwenhoek monograph. I also wish to speak with you about a recent entry in your notebook."
Hermione gulped. Had he figured it out? The prospect sent a thrill of fear through her, but she ignored it as best she could. She managed to squeak, "Of course, Professor Snape."
He abruptly returned his grading without responding. Bastard, she thought fondly, spearing an olive.
True to what Snape had said, the next hour was pure physical torture. The potion was approximately the consistency of pitch, and after a few minutes Hermione's muscles were crying out in protest. She had removed her robe and pushed the sleeves of her blouse up as far as they would go, but she was still bathed in sweat. The underwear Pansy and Millicent had designed for her was evidently not intended for physical labor. The bustier was stifling and its steel ribs nipped her hip if she changed her stirring position. The balls of her feet throbbingly protested the height of her heels, and the sweatier her body became, the more her stockings itched.
When, after a small eternity, the clock on Professor Snape's table chimed, Hermione sighed in relief. She quickly consulted her notes and added the eight ounces of chocolate liqueur she had brought, feverfew, and pomegranate pulp and stirred thrice. The potion turned a rippling grass green and ceased bubbling. Consulting her notes for the last time to double- check her steps, she squared her shoulders. It was ready for the martini.
Spiculum argentum, the silver drink. Vodka was vodka, no matter what organic substance it was distilled from - apple, potato, rye, anything. As long as it was filtered through birch charcoal, it was potions grade. The liquid sparkled in the torchlight as she poured it over her potion. The cauldron hissed and emitted a dense grey fog that spread over the floor of the classroom. As suddenly as it had started, the hissing sound ceased, and the olive that had been in the martini popped from the surface of the potion and sailed across the room. It landed with a wet thud on Snape's grading.
He flicked the olive to the floor without looking at her.
She extinguished the fire under the cauldron and filled a small flask for Snape's inspection, as she always did. Usually, she vanished the remainder of the potion and returned the cauldron to the pile in the back of the classroom, but this evening she shrank the cauldron, stoppered it, and slipped it into her book satchel. Hoping he hadn't been paying close attention to her actions, she steeled herself and approached his desk.
He still did not look up from his papers, and spoke irritably. "Well, what are you waiting for? Test your potion."
Hermione swallowed nervously. What if it didn't work? What if it did work?
"Some time tonight, if you don't mind, Miss Granger?"
She tapped the flask and raised the now-cool potion to her lips. It tasted sweet and rich. No wonder it was so dangerous; it could pass for an expensive mixed drink. Snape was still staring at her. She met his gaze resolutely.
"How do you feel?"
"Exceedingly well, thank you."
"When was the last time you had a bowel movement?"
Colour sprang to her cheeks, but the answer was out of her mouth before she had a chance to process the question. "Right before dinner."
Snape nodded. "The potion appears to be correct. You may go." He returned to his grading.
Her mind was a whirl of possibility. Logically, Snape would have to believe her if she declared her feelings now- she was under a truth potion. Hermione would have been fascinated by how the potion pitted her desire to be near him against her better impulse to flee, but there were too many things at stake. Still, to her surprise, she found herself speaking.
"You promised to give me the Leuwenhoek monograph, sir."
He grunted in a vaguely assenting way, and pushed a yellowing manuscript towards her.
She cleared her throat. "You also wished to speak with me about an entry in my journal."
He glared at her. "What?"
"You wanted to ask about an entry in my journal."
"Oh yes, what was it?"
Apparently the potion made no distinction between direct and rhetorical questions, since she promptly answered, "I imagine you wish to ask me about the nature of the highly personal disclosures and judgment lapses that occurred when I drank Butter-Rum."
His thin lips curved around a sharklike grin. "I had actually wished to ask about your hangover, since you have been so assiduous in avoiding them. But I plan to enjoy any highly personal disclosures and judgment lapses you wish to report."
Fortunately, this was not a direct question, so Hermione was not compelled to answer. She started for the door.
"Miss Granger," he called, cruel grin spreading still wider. "You are not dismissed. Tell me, did Potter steal boomslang skin from me in your second year?"
She almost smiled in relief, but the ground was much too dangerous. "No, sir."
He looked disappointed, but persevered. "Did Mr. Potter steal gillyweed from my office in your fourth year?"
"No sir, he did not," she answered promptly.
"Well then, was Mr. Potter involved in the highly personal disclosures of the Butter-Rum incident?"
"Yes, sir."
"In what way?"
"He made one and heard mine in return, as did the rest of the boys."
"Who else?"
"Finnegan, Longbottom, and Ron Weasley." Oh God, this was not going well. Snape would never give her a chance if he knew the impetus for her declaration.
"And what did these disclosures involve?"
She wanted to run out of his office, but there was no knowing who might hear spill the tawdry tale of Harry's crush on Draco Malfoy. At least she knew Snape could keep a secret. Of course, if he didn't wish to keep it a secret-best not to pursue that line of thought. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from resisting the potion.
"Answer me, Miss Granger."
"They all involved unrequited love, sir," she said at last.
"I see," said Snape, steepling his fingers greedily under his nose. "And who were the objects of these disclosures?"
"Millicent Bulstrode, Padma Patil, Draco Malfoy, and yourself, sir." Hermione's cheeks were burning, but she met his eye.
His eyes narrowed. "I do not find this funny, Miss Granger."
She shrugged, tears of humiliation stinging her eyes.
"So am I to believe that you're dressing like this to impress Draco Malfoy? I thought you possessed a higher degree of subtlety, Miss Granger."
"No, sir."
"No? What do you mean?"
"You shouldn't believe I dressed like this for Malfoy, sir."
"Then is it Miss Patil or Miss Bulstrode who is the object of your affections?"
"Neither, sir."
Surprise was clearly etched on his features before he covered it with a fierce scowl. "You are dismissed, Miss Granger."
She sagged with relief and started toward the door.
"One more question, Miss Granger."
She turned to face him miserably.
"Why were you in such a good mood when you arrived this evening?"
She wanted to bite her tongue, but the reply was already out. "Because I'm wearing a gorgeous bustier and matching garter belt, sir, and they're spelled so that only you can remove them."
She clapped her hand over her mouth and bolted out the door before he could ask any more questions.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When she returned to Gryffindor tower, she found all of the boys in their circle by the fire, looking as depressed as she felt. At least Harry and Ron appeared to reached a relative detente; they were sitting next to one another without exchanging looks of palpable enmity. Neville sported a colourful black eye. She joined them, bustier bunching uncomfortably as she sat on the floor.
"What happened to all of you?"
"We've all got detention for a week for starting a fight at dinner," said Seamus. "Then we all tried to use our last night of freedom to advance our Gryffindor Stud efforts."
"I take it that nobody is claiming the Stud of Gryffindor prize yet," she commented.
"Are we bad-looking or something?" Seamus inquired.
"Not at all," replied Hermione automatically, and grimaced.
"What's wrong with you?" grumbled Ron.
"Snape made me test a truth potion tonight."
The boys looked at her with interest.
"So you told him?" Harry wanted to know.
"In as many words."
Neville regarded her through his one good eye. "What exactly did you say?"
Flushing furiously, she repeated her comment about the charmed underwear.
To her chagrin, the boys burst out laughing.
"That is the best pickup line I've heard in ages," said Ron.
"It wasn't a pickup line," said Hermione tartly, "It's the truth."
Seamus whistled through his teeth. "Did you come up with the underwear idea on your own?"
"No, the underwear was Pansy Parkinson's idea, and the spell was Millicent Bulstrode's."
Fortunately, Neville couldn't fall off the floor, though he made a valiant effort.
"Mil knows lingerie charms?"
"She and Pansy were most knowledgeable on the subject, for all the good it's done me," she said crossly, "and I still have to proofread Pansy's essays, help her with the NEWTs, and give her this cauldron of truth potion." The potion sloshed as she set the tiny cauldron down in the middle of their circle.
Harry stared at it moodily. "Too bad I can't force-feed Malfoy some of this to find out if he's interested in me. Or Ron," he added belatedly.
"Or if Mil could see me take some. She thought I was making fun of her," said Neville, fingering his tender eye.
"Me too," said Seamus glumly. "I know Padma has the wrong idea, because every time I tried to talk to her, she walks off with her nose in the air. When I finally cornered her tonight, she cast a full body bind on me before I could say anything. I wish there was a way to let her know that I've always been interested in her. But with Parvati giggling all over the place, it's a bit difficult."
Hermione looked at her friends. "You're not serious about using a truth potion, are you? Don't you realize all the things that could go wrong?"
"I don't care."
They all turned to look at Neville.
"Timidity is what got us all into this. It's certainly not going to get us out of it. Why can't Harry and Ron dose Malfoy? Why can't Seamus dose himself in front of Padma?"
Ron's and Harry's jaws fell open simultaneously. Seamus snorted.
"After Hermione made an ass of herself with Snape, not bloody likely!"
A thought occurred to Hermione. "But some girls like boys to make asses of themselves."
Harry grinned. "I know I'd be touched if Malfoy made an ass of himself for me. Or Ron."
"We'd have to be careful," Seamus warned.
Ron met Harry's eye for the first time that week. "It won't be that hard to get Malfoy alone in a room, especially if it's a combined effort."
Seamus was starting to get excited. "She'll have to believe that I loved her first!"
An idea was coalescing in Hermione's brain. She chose her words carefully. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Think of your deepest, darkest, or most disgusting secrets. Are you prepared to share them with someone you barely know just because you are attracted to them? Because you can't hide anything when you're under a truth potion. Are you prepared to risk that, just to be the Stud of Gryffindor?"
"It's worth a lot more to me than some stupid bet," said Neville.
The others nodded resolutely, though Ron was a fraction of a second behind the others.
Hermione's smile rivaled Snape's for sharklike intensity. "Then by all means, let's get to work."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione left breakfast early the next day. She had a potion to deliver. Fortunately, Pansy didn't seem to notice that the cauldron was not as full as it should have been.
"Does it work?"
"Of course it does."
"If I find you've pulled a fast one Granger, I'll tell the whole school why you wanted my help."
She gave Pansy a withering look. "It hardly matters now that Snape knows, does it?"
"Ooh, how did he like the garter belt?"
"He didn't see it."
"WHAT?" Millicent had entered the toilet as silently as she had before. Hermione was hard-pressed to keep her wand in her pocket after seeing the number she had done on Neville's face. At least Millicent's knuckles were raw and painful-looking.
"You scarpered? I never figured you for a coward, Granger," said Pansy disdainfully.
"It wasn't my fault," Hermione protested. "He had me under the truth potion- "
"I should have known he'd be into that," remarked Pansy.
Hermione gave her a dirty look. "He had me under the second-most-powerful truth potion in the world and all he did was ask me questions about Harry. He wasn't the least bit interested in me. But I had to tell him about the underwear, and I felt like such a complete idiot that I couldn't face him."
"Let me get this straight," said Millicent, "he asked you about your underwear while you were under a truth potion, and you still ran away?"
"No!" Hermione said, exasperated. "He asked me why I was so cheerful when I came in, and I told him."
"Well," said Pansy with a nasty smile. "I hope you patch things up soon, because that underwear is going to start to smell bad after a couple of days. I don't know if I'll be able to concentrate on my NEWTs study if you reek. Thanks for the potion, Granger. Since I know you won't be otherwise occupied, expect our first study session to be tomorrow night. Ta ta!"
Millicent chortled, sounding to Hermione's ears rather like a clogged drain, and the Slytherins left the loo. Locking herself in a stall and hitching up her shortened skirt, Hermione performed a powerful unlocking charm on her garter belt. It didn't budge. Panicking slightly, she tried all of the unlocking and releasing spells she could think of. She finally tried to rip the silk with the steel ribs of the bustier. None of it worked.
Glancing at her watch, she realized she'd be late for potions if she didn't leave immediately. She cast an augmenting charm on her brief skirt and jumper, returned her shoes to normal, and entered the potions classroom with her head held high.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first thing she noticed was that Malfoy and Millicent were not in attendance. Before she had a chance to process this information, Snape had swept into her field of vision and deducted five points from Gryffindor for gaping like an imbecile. Pansy snickered to herself, but refrained from the usual exaggerated faces and gesturing she reserved for making fun of Hermione.
Perhaps something good would come from this whole fiasco after all.
When Snape had written the directions for the day's potion on the board and split the students up into pairs, Hermione found herself working with Blaise Zabini.
"So where are Malfoy and Bulstrode today?" she asked him casually as they companionably chopped roasted newt tails side by side.
Zabini regarded her out of the corner of his eye. " I don't know where Mil is, but I figured you'd know about Malfoy, seeing as it was your potion that did it."
She figured he was guessing. "I don't know what you mean," she replied smoothly. "What happened?"
"Someone got a house elf to slip truth potion into Malfoy's pumpkin juice this morning," said Blaise, watching Hermione carefully for her reaction.
She stifled her guffaw just in time.
Blaise shrugged and returned to chopping. "So you didn't do it, but you know who did?"
"I have a fair idea. So he's up in the hospital wing until it wears off?"
"Along with Potter and Weasley, yeah."
"What happened to Harry and Ron?"
"Someone put truth potion in their drinks as well."
"I see," said Hermione, inwardly applauding Harry and Ron's resourcefulness in covering their tracks.
They finished their potion with no major mishaps. True to form, Zabini received ten points to Slytherin for his work. She lost five for getting in Zaibini's way.
"You are dismissed," announced Snape, once he had collected their samples for testing. "Miss Granger, a word, if you please?"
Pansy shot her a wink as she and the rest of the class filed out the door.
Snape gestured with his wand and locked the classroom door. She stood before his desk. She almost wished he were grading papers again. The intense look he was giving her made her insides tingle most distractingly.
"You have a great deal to explain, Miss Granger," he growled. "A surprising report reached me shortly before class. Care to guess what it was?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Apparently, one of my students and two of your friends have been given large doses of a potion that bears a remarkable similarity to the effects of Psyche Potion."
"Zabini told me, sir."
Snape slammed his hand down on his desk. "Do not trifle with me, Miss Granger! I did not agree to oversee your studies to see them used in puerile pranks on other students. Do not insult my intelligence by protesting that you had nothing to do with it. I am seriously displeased with you. You have one minute to convince me not to cancel your independent study forthwith and give you a failing grade."
She swallowed. "I agree that it must have been my potion that was given to Harry, Ron and Malfoy, but I did not dose them, nor do I know who did." This was perfectly true. It was only circumstantial evidence that one of Hogwarts house elves was particularly devoted to Harry.
His eyes narrowed. "To whom did you give it?"
"I believe you will find the cauldron of Psyche Potion in the possession of Pansy Parkinson, sir." Never mind that she received it about ten minutes before class, she added silently.
Bright red spots appeared on Snape's cheeks. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, for such an unbelievable lie. Why should you give it to Miss Parkinson?"
"She gave me clothing, hair and makeup help, sir. You should know she doesn't do anything for free."
He stared at her for a moment, then to her surprise, sighed heavily and began massaging his eyelids. "You made an excellent choice for a bribe. I am embarrassed to admit that I did not see it coming. What else did you have to promise her?"
She could have fainted with relief. "I have to correct her essays for the rest of the year and help her study for the NEWTs."
"She drove a hard bargain. May I ask why you were so desperate to secure her assistance?"
She felt her cheeks grow hot. Hopefully he would think it was embarrassment. "With all due respect sir, I believe I told you as much last night."
He sat back in his seat and shook his head. "Surely you could have chosen someone with a more subtle aesthetic sense, like one of the Ravenclaw girls?"
"Parkinson came highly recommended. The underwear spell was Millicent Bulstrode's idea."
Snape's face was pinched with disgust. "Haven't you been able to remove the offending garments?"
"No sir," she said, cheeks burning. "I think only you can do that."
"I see. Come here, Miss Granger."
Hardly daring to breathe, Hermione came around the back of his desk and stood before him.
"If the spell Miss Bulstrode taught you is one of the more rudimentary ones, this should release you."
He poked his index finger into the steel fastenings of the bustier just above her navel. His touch was brief and indelicate, but she felt it sear through her clothes. She just managed to keep from shuddering.
His voice was sharp. "Well?"
She pulled out the tails of her blouse and reached greedily up underneath. The bustier was fastened tight as ever. Her heart was beating a pasodoble in her throat. She managed to keep her voice steady.
"I don't think it worked, sir. I'm afraid you're going to have to unfasten them with your bare hands."
He met her eyes, dark and fathomless, and she did her best not to blink. It was the oddest sensation; she felt as if his stare was sliding into her eyes, through her retinas, up her optical nerves, and pushing insistently into her brain. The heat from his touch burst dazzlingly into her mind, followed quickly by his breath in her ear as he whispered instructions on decanting palm wine into a Nigerian anti-malarial potion. On her tongue, she felt the rich Bordeaux he'd opened for her most recent set of anti- inflammatory tests- no sense in wasting the rest, he'd said. Drink up. Belatedly, she realized that he was using legilimency on her.
The outraged realization made a door inside her mind slam shut, and Snape was thrown back in his chair, struggling to catch his breath.
"I had no idea you were sincere," he said lamely, blotting perspiration from his forehead with a handkerchief.
"I was under a truth potion last night. How could I have lied to you? And even if I could've, do you think I would lie to you, especially about something this important?"
"I hope you don't think your underwear problems are of any importance to me," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If I'd been thinking a moment ago, I would have sent you immediately to your head of house."
It was Hermione's turn to slam the desk. "I'm not talking about my underwear! I'm talking about my feelings for you!"
"All the more disappointing for you, Miss Granger," he said coolly, peeling a strand of hair from his damp forehead, "since I never wish to hear you bring up either subject again. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
"Yes sir," she said. "But may I ask you a question?"
"You may." The mulish look on his face did not make her feel optimistic.
She took a deep breath. "A few months ago, I came across the fourth edition of Hogwarts, A History. Since it was written in 1300, I thought it would be fascinating to compare it to the bowdlerized current edition. In the older edition, I came across a biography of a married couple, both teachers, who had met and married while she was still a Hogwarts student and he was a teaching. Consulting the fifth through twelfth editions, I found no fewer than twenty such couples, all of whom were allowed to see one another socially while the younger was still in school, and all of whom were invited back as teachers."
"Fascinating as this is, I trust you will get to the question before dawn?"
She cleared her throat. "I took the liberty of reading the Hogwarts Charter and all subsequent amendments, and I found nothing banning professor-pupil relations. I even asked Professor Binns. I can only conclude that there is no policy condemning such relationships."
"Miss Granger, if you don't stop beating about the bush I will be forced to take points."
She met his gaze squarely, though she felt as if her heart would burst through her ribcage at any moment. "Professor Snape, as I'm sure you are perfectly aware, I enjoy your company and am very attracted to you. Will you give me a chance to prove the depth of my sincerity?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"For the very simple reason that I do not like you, Miss Granger. Good day." He stood up and began to gather the sample flasks from the seventh year class.
Three years ago, almost to the tick, she had stood in the presence of the same man and let his casually cruel, "I see no difference" drive her to tears and humiliation. Hermione couldn't say exactly when the venom ceased to sting and began to inflame, but it most certainly had.
Snape turned from his task, presumably to seek the source of the choking sound that emanated from her direction.
Hermione was laughing. It started with silent shaking of the shoulders, then gasping intakes of breath, and then she issued forth with a full belly laugh that danced around the dungeon like sunbeams through cut glass. She gasped for breath, and again fell into belly laughs.
Snape had fixed his most threatening scowl on her, but it only made her laugh harder. He had come up in front of her and grasped her forearms before she was able to meet his stare. She was still for a moment, and then her lips quirked, and she was laughing again.
"Miss Granger, calm yourself!" His grip was iron. "You are hysterical."
"No, sir," she said, taking a deep breath. "You are. And I love you for it."
There it was.
Snape released her as if she had suddenly become too hot to hold. Perhaps she had. She could read nothing in his expression.
"I'll see you next Tuesday, sir."
She did not run to the door, nor did she turn back as she left.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Huge thanks to my betas, Dana and Jeff!
Equally huge and far more numerous thanks to all of you who have reviewed! Because I can't give you all bear hugs or serenade you, I can't adequately express how grateful I am to you for your kind, funny, and insightful comments. But put those fertile imaginations to work and you'll have a pretty good idea.
I'm nearly finished with this story (rough draft, of course) but I refuse to post without having someone excise my most egregious errors, so I'm sticking to the 1-betaed-chapter-per-week schedule. KDarkMaiden, you are an evil, evil individual. [EG]
Author: Mundungus42
Rating: R (getting there...)
Disclaimer: I do not sail on the S. S. Ownership. I occasionally canoe, though.
Summary: Response to the WIKTT Gryffindor Stud challenge
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thursday evening at supper, Hermione's posture was more erect than usual, and a close observer might have noticed a determined glint in her eye to match the becoming flush in her cheek. As it was, the only difference her mates noticed was that the toad-in-the-hole was decidedly skimpy on sausages. She had to admit, sausages were a safe topic of conversation.
Hermione hadn't spoken about the Stud of Gryffindor title at length with any of the boys since that fateful night, which was probably for the best. Harry and Ron still weren't speaking to each other, and this was one fight she had no desire to mediate. Still, it hadn't been that difficult to avoid them. Between homework, her potions lessons, NEWTs study, and Quidditch, the only times she saw any of her fellow Gryffindor Stud hopefuls were over meals. However, the proximity of everyone's objects of affection and the danger of being overheard deterred any in-depth group discussion. When Hermione attempted to exchange a significant look at Seamus, he looked pointedly at Parvati and shook his head.
Judging by the half-stifled giggle Lavender and Parvati shared, Hermione figured Padma already knew about Seamus's participation in the Stud of Gryffindor competition. She would have tried to warn Seamus, but Harry and Ron had started kicking one another under the table. An ill-placed kick from Harry elicited a sharp "Hey!" from Dean, and soon the entire table had become embroiled in a kicking battle. Sensing Professor McGonagall's approach, Hermione seized the opportunity to leave for her lesson with Snape.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione strode into the potions classroom with the air of confidence that only really fantastic underwear can lend. Even Snape seemed to notice.
"There's no need to look so cheerful, Miss Granger," he said. "You've got a long, hard slog ahead of you this evening. Psyche Potion requires constant stirring for an hour after you add the liqueur, and it will be no thinner than it was when you last saw it."
"It's not cheer exactly, sir, " she replied, "more like renewed vigour and excitement to see this potion through."
"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek. If you can't say anything sensible, I suggest that you remain silent."
"Yessir," she replied, undaunted.
He scowled at her. "I don't suppose, in your fit of good humour, that you had the opportunity to read the Vrabinsky book that I assigned for next week?"
"Of course, I did, sir."
"Then I you should have no problem identifying the ingredients in my cabinet and making a vodka martini."
"I thought you didn't like martinis, sir."
"I don't. This is for use in your potion, which you'd have known if you'd read Leuwenhoek's monograph on the effects of apple vodka on the Psyche Potion that was referenced in the Vrabinsky book."
"I tried to read it, sir, but the article is in Dutch and I couldn't find a translation of it anywhere."
"You obviously weren't looking or thinking hard enough," he said, without any real venom. "The Vrabinsky book came from my personal library. An English translation of the Leuwenhoek is also in my possession. The next time you require a text that is not in the library, speak with me before assuming it is unavailable to you."
He was giving her access to his personal library! "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He frowned. "Now, make the martini and get to work. When the clock strikes, you may add the final ingredients. The martini is to be poured steadily over the surface when the potion is finished. Do not stir. When you have bottled the potion, I will give you the Leuwenhoek monograph. I also wish to speak with you about a recent entry in your notebook."
Hermione gulped. Had he figured it out? The prospect sent a thrill of fear through her, but she ignored it as best she could. She managed to squeak, "Of course, Professor Snape."
He abruptly returned his grading without responding. Bastard, she thought fondly, spearing an olive.
True to what Snape had said, the next hour was pure physical torture. The potion was approximately the consistency of pitch, and after a few minutes Hermione's muscles were crying out in protest. She had removed her robe and pushed the sleeves of her blouse up as far as they would go, but she was still bathed in sweat. The underwear Pansy and Millicent had designed for her was evidently not intended for physical labor. The bustier was stifling and its steel ribs nipped her hip if she changed her stirring position. The balls of her feet throbbingly protested the height of her heels, and the sweatier her body became, the more her stockings itched.
When, after a small eternity, the clock on Professor Snape's table chimed, Hermione sighed in relief. She quickly consulted her notes and added the eight ounces of chocolate liqueur she had brought, feverfew, and pomegranate pulp and stirred thrice. The potion turned a rippling grass green and ceased bubbling. Consulting her notes for the last time to double- check her steps, she squared her shoulders. It was ready for the martini.
Spiculum argentum, the silver drink. Vodka was vodka, no matter what organic substance it was distilled from - apple, potato, rye, anything. As long as it was filtered through birch charcoal, it was potions grade. The liquid sparkled in the torchlight as she poured it over her potion. The cauldron hissed and emitted a dense grey fog that spread over the floor of the classroom. As suddenly as it had started, the hissing sound ceased, and the olive that had been in the martini popped from the surface of the potion and sailed across the room. It landed with a wet thud on Snape's grading.
He flicked the olive to the floor without looking at her.
She extinguished the fire under the cauldron and filled a small flask for Snape's inspection, as she always did. Usually, she vanished the remainder of the potion and returned the cauldron to the pile in the back of the classroom, but this evening she shrank the cauldron, stoppered it, and slipped it into her book satchel. Hoping he hadn't been paying close attention to her actions, she steeled herself and approached his desk.
He still did not look up from his papers, and spoke irritably. "Well, what are you waiting for? Test your potion."
Hermione swallowed nervously. What if it didn't work? What if it did work?
"Some time tonight, if you don't mind, Miss Granger?"
She tapped the flask and raised the now-cool potion to her lips. It tasted sweet and rich. No wonder it was so dangerous; it could pass for an expensive mixed drink. Snape was still staring at her. She met his gaze resolutely.
"How do you feel?"
"Exceedingly well, thank you."
"When was the last time you had a bowel movement?"
Colour sprang to her cheeks, but the answer was out of her mouth before she had a chance to process the question. "Right before dinner."
Snape nodded. "The potion appears to be correct. You may go." He returned to his grading.
Her mind was a whirl of possibility. Logically, Snape would have to believe her if she declared her feelings now- she was under a truth potion. Hermione would have been fascinated by how the potion pitted her desire to be near him against her better impulse to flee, but there were too many things at stake. Still, to her surprise, she found herself speaking.
"You promised to give me the Leuwenhoek monograph, sir."
He grunted in a vaguely assenting way, and pushed a yellowing manuscript towards her.
She cleared her throat. "You also wished to speak with me about an entry in my journal."
He glared at her. "What?"
"You wanted to ask about an entry in my journal."
"Oh yes, what was it?"
Apparently the potion made no distinction between direct and rhetorical questions, since she promptly answered, "I imagine you wish to ask me about the nature of the highly personal disclosures and judgment lapses that occurred when I drank Butter-Rum."
His thin lips curved around a sharklike grin. "I had actually wished to ask about your hangover, since you have been so assiduous in avoiding them. But I plan to enjoy any highly personal disclosures and judgment lapses you wish to report."
Fortunately, this was not a direct question, so Hermione was not compelled to answer. She started for the door.
"Miss Granger," he called, cruel grin spreading still wider. "You are not dismissed. Tell me, did Potter steal boomslang skin from me in your second year?"
She almost smiled in relief, but the ground was much too dangerous. "No, sir."
He looked disappointed, but persevered. "Did Mr. Potter steal gillyweed from my office in your fourth year?"
"No sir, he did not," she answered promptly.
"Well then, was Mr. Potter involved in the highly personal disclosures of the Butter-Rum incident?"
"Yes, sir."
"In what way?"
"He made one and heard mine in return, as did the rest of the boys."
"Who else?"
"Finnegan, Longbottom, and Ron Weasley." Oh God, this was not going well. Snape would never give her a chance if he knew the impetus for her declaration.
"And what did these disclosures involve?"
She wanted to run out of his office, but there was no knowing who might hear spill the tawdry tale of Harry's crush on Draco Malfoy. At least she knew Snape could keep a secret. Of course, if he didn't wish to keep it a secret-best not to pursue that line of thought. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from resisting the potion.
"Answer me, Miss Granger."
"They all involved unrequited love, sir," she said at last.
"I see," said Snape, steepling his fingers greedily under his nose. "And who were the objects of these disclosures?"
"Millicent Bulstrode, Padma Patil, Draco Malfoy, and yourself, sir." Hermione's cheeks were burning, but she met his eye.
His eyes narrowed. "I do not find this funny, Miss Granger."
She shrugged, tears of humiliation stinging her eyes.
"So am I to believe that you're dressing like this to impress Draco Malfoy? I thought you possessed a higher degree of subtlety, Miss Granger."
"No, sir."
"No? What do you mean?"
"You shouldn't believe I dressed like this for Malfoy, sir."
"Then is it Miss Patil or Miss Bulstrode who is the object of your affections?"
"Neither, sir."
Surprise was clearly etched on his features before he covered it with a fierce scowl. "You are dismissed, Miss Granger."
She sagged with relief and started toward the door.
"One more question, Miss Granger."
She turned to face him miserably.
"Why were you in such a good mood when you arrived this evening?"
She wanted to bite her tongue, but the reply was already out. "Because I'm wearing a gorgeous bustier and matching garter belt, sir, and they're spelled so that only you can remove them."
She clapped her hand over her mouth and bolted out the door before he could ask any more questions.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When she returned to Gryffindor tower, she found all of the boys in their circle by the fire, looking as depressed as she felt. At least Harry and Ron appeared to reached a relative detente; they were sitting next to one another without exchanging looks of palpable enmity. Neville sported a colourful black eye. She joined them, bustier bunching uncomfortably as she sat on the floor.
"What happened to all of you?"
"We've all got detention for a week for starting a fight at dinner," said Seamus. "Then we all tried to use our last night of freedom to advance our Gryffindor Stud efforts."
"I take it that nobody is claiming the Stud of Gryffindor prize yet," she commented.
"Are we bad-looking or something?" Seamus inquired.
"Not at all," replied Hermione automatically, and grimaced.
"What's wrong with you?" grumbled Ron.
"Snape made me test a truth potion tonight."
The boys looked at her with interest.
"So you told him?" Harry wanted to know.
"In as many words."
Neville regarded her through his one good eye. "What exactly did you say?"
Flushing furiously, she repeated her comment about the charmed underwear.
To her chagrin, the boys burst out laughing.
"That is the best pickup line I've heard in ages," said Ron.
"It wasn't a pickup line," said Hermione tartly, "It's the truth."
Seamus whistled through his teeth. "Did you come up with the underwear idea on your own?"
"No, the underwear was Pansy Parkinson's idea, and the spell was Millicent Bulstrode's."
Fortunately, Neville couldn't fall off the floor, though he made a valiant effort.
"Mil knows lingerie charms?"
"She and Pansy were most knowledgeable on the subject, for all the good it's done me," she said crossly, "and I still have to proofread Pansy's essays, help her with the NEWTs, and give her this cauldron of truth potion." The potion sloshed as she set the tiny cauldron down in the middle of their circle.
Harry stared at it moodily. "Too bad I can't force-feed Malfoy some of this to find out if he's interested in me. Or Ron," he added belatedly.
"Or if Mil could see me take some. She thought I was making fun of her," said Neville, fingering his tender eye.
"Me too," said Seamus glumly. "I know Padma has the wrong idea, because every time I tried to talk to her, she walks off with her nose in the air. When I finally cornered her tonight, she cast a full body bind on me before I could say anything. I wish there was a way to let her know that I've always been interested in her. But with Parvati giggling all over the place, it's a bit difficult."
Hermione looked at her friends. "You're not serious about using a truth potion, are you? Don't you realize all the things that could go wrong?"
"I don't care."
They all turned to look at Neville.
"Timidity is what got us all into this. It's certainly not going to get us out of it. Why can't Harry and Ron dose Malfoy? Why can't Seamus dose himself in front of Padma?"
Ron's and Harry's jaws fell open simultaneously. Seamus snorted.
"After Hermione made an ass of herself with Snape, not bloody likely!"
A thought occurred to Hermione. "But some girls like boys to make asses of themselves."
Harry grinned. "I know I'd be touched if Malfoy made an ass of himself for me. Or Ron."
"We'd have to be careful," Seamus warned.
Ron met Harry's eye for the first time that week. "It won't be that hard to get Malfoy alone in a room, especially if it's a combined effort."
Seamus was starting to get excited. "She'll have to believe that I loved her first!"
An idea was coalescing in Hermione's brain. She chose her words carefully. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Think of your deepest, darkest, or most disgusting secrets. Are you prepared to share them with someone you barely know just because you are attracted to them? Because you can't hide anything when you're under a truth potion. Are you prepared to risk that, just to be the Stud of Gryffindor?"
"It's worth a lot more to me than some stupid bet," said Neville.
The others nodded resolutely, though Ron was a fraction of a second behind the others.
Hermione's smile rivaled Snape's for sharklike intensity. "Then by all means, let's get to work."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione left breakfast early the next day. She had a potion to deliver. Fortunately, Pansy didn't seem to notice that the cauldron was not as full as it should have been.
"Does it work?"
"Of course it does."
"If I find you've pulled a fast one Granger, I'll tell the whole school why you wanted my help."
She gave Pansy a withering look. "It hardly matters now that Snape knows, does it?"
"Ooh, how did he like the garter belt?"
"He didn't see it."
"WHAT?" Millicent had entered the toilet as silently as she had before. Hermione was hard-pressed to keep her wand in her pocket after seeing the number she had done on Neville's face. At least Millicent's knuckles were raw and painful-looking.
"You scarpered? I never figured you for a coward, Granger," said Pansy disdainfully.
"It wasn't my fault," Hermione protested. "He had me under the truth potion- "
"I should have known he'd be into that," remarked Pansy.
Hermione gave her a dirty look. "He had me under the second-most-powerful truth potion in the world and all he did was ask me questions about Harry. He wasn't the least bit interested in me. But I had to tell him about the underwear, and I felt like such a complete idiot that I couldn't face him."
"Let me get this straight," said Millicent, "he asked you about your underwear while you were under a truth potion, and you still ran away?"
"No!" Hermione said, exasperated. "He asked me why I was so cheerful when I came in, and I told him."
"Well," said Pansy with a nasty smile. "I hope you patch things up soon, because that underwear is going to start to smell bad after a couple of days. I don't know if I'll be able to concentrate on my NEWTs study if you reek. Thanks for the potion, Granger. Since I know you won't be otherwise occupied, expect our first study session to be tomorrow night. Ta ta!"
Millicent chortled, sounding to Hermione's ears rather like a clogged drain, and the Slytherins left the loo. Locking herself in a stall and hitching up her shortened skirt, Hermione performed a powerful unlocking charm on her garter belt. It didn't budge. Panicking slightly, she tried all of the unlocking and releasing spells she could think of. She finally tried to rip the silk with the steel ribs of the bustier. None of it worked.
Glancing at her watch, she realized she'd be late for potions if she didn't leave immediately. She cast an augmenting charm on her brief skirt and jumper, returned her shoes to normal, and entered the potions classroom with her head held high.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first thing she noticed was that Malfoy and Millicent were not in attendance. Before she had a chance to process this information, Snape had swept into her field of vision and deducted five points from Gryffindor for gaping like an imbecile. Pansy snickered to herself, but refrained from the usual exaggerated faces and gesturing she reserved for making fun of Hermione.
Perhaps something good would come from this whole fiasco after all.
When Snape had written the directions for the day's potion on the board and split the students up into pairs, Hermione found herself working with Blaise Zabini.
"So where are Malfoy and Bulstrode today?" she asked him casually as they companionably chopped roasted newt tails side by side.
Zabini regarded her out of the corner of his eye. " I don't know where Mil is, but I figured you'd know about Malfoy, seeing as it was your potion that did it."
She figured he was guessing. "I don't know what you mean," she replied smoothly. "What happened?"
"Someone got a house elf to slip truth potion into Malfoy's pumpkin juice this morning," said Blaise, watching Hermione carefully for her reaction.
She stifled her guffaw just in time.
Blaise shrugged and returned to chopping. "So you didn't do it, but you know who did?"
"I have a fair idea. So he's up in the hospital wing until it wears off?"
"Along with Potter and Weasley, yeah."
"What happened to Harry and Ron?"
"Someone put truth potion in their drinks as well."
"I see," said Hermione, inwardly applauding Harry and Ron's resourcefulness in covering their tracks.
They finished their potion with no major mishaps. True to form, Zabini received ten points to Slytherin for his work. She lost five for getting in Zaibini's way.
"You are dismissed," announced Snape, once he had collected their samples for testing. "Miss Granger, a word, if you please?"
Pansy shot her a wink as she and the rest of the class filed out the door.
Snape gestured with his wand and locked the classroom door. She stood before his desk. She almost wished he were grading papers again. The intense look he was giving her made her insides tingle most distractingly.
"You have a great deal to explain, Miss Granger," he growled. "A surprising report reached me shortly before class. Care to guess what it was?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Apparently, one of my students and two of your friends have been given large doses of a potion that bears a remarkable similarity to the effects of Psyche Potion."
"Zabini told me, sir."
Snape slammed his hand down on his desk. "Do not trifle with me, Miss Granger! I did not agree to oversee your studies to see them used in puerile pranks on other students. Do not insult my intelligence by protesting that you had nothing to do with it. I am seriously displeased with you. You have one minute to convince me not to cancel your independent study forthwith and give you a failing grade."
She swallowed. "I agree that it must have been my potion that was given to Harry, Ron and Malfoy, but I did not dose them, nor do I know who did." This was perfectly true. It was only circumstantial evidence that one of Hogwarts house elves was particularly devoted to Harry.
His eyes narrowed. "To whom did you give it?"
"I believe you will find the cauldron of Psyche Potion in the possession of Pansy Parkinson, sir." Never mind that she received it about ten minutes before class, she added silently.
Bright red spots appeared on Snape's cheeks. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, for such an unbelievable lie. Why should you give it to Miss Parkinson?"
"She gave me clothing, hair and makeup help, sir. You should know she doesn't do anything for free."
He stared at her for a moment, then to her surprise, sighed heavily and began massaging his eyelids. "You made an excellent choice for a bribe. I am embarrassed to admit that I did not see it coming. What else did you have to promise her?"
She could have fainted with relief. "I have to correct her essays for the rest of the year and help her study for the NEWTs."
"She drove a hard bargain. May I ask why you were so desperate to secure her assistance?"
She felt her cheeks grow hot. Hopefully he would think it was embarrassment. "With all due respect sir, I believe I told you as much last night."
He sat back in his seat and shook his head. "Surely you could have chosen someone with a more subtle aesthetic sense, like one of the Ravenclaw girls?"
"Parkinson came highly recommended. The underwear spell was Millicent Bulstrode's idea."
Snape's face was pinched with disgust. "Haven't you been able to remove the offending garments?"
"No sir," she said, cheeks burning. "I think only you can do that."
"I see. Come here, Miss Granger."
Hardly daring to breathe, Hermione came around the back of his desk and stood before him.
"If the spell Miss Bulstrode taught you is one of the more rudimentary ones, this should release you."
He poked his index finger into the steel fastenings of the bustier just above her navel. His touch was brief and indelicate, but she felt it sear through her clothes. She just managed to keep from shuddering.
His voice was sharp. "Well?"
She pulled out the tails of her blouse and reached greedily up underneath. The bustier was fastened tight as ever. Her heart was beating a pasodoble in her throat. She managed to keep her voice steady.
"I don't think it worked, sir. I'm afraid you're going to have to unfasten them with your bare hands."
He met her eyes, dark and fathomless, and she did her best not to blink. It was the oddest sensation; she felt as if his stare was sliding into her eyes, through her retinas, up her optical nerves, and pushing insistently into her brain. The heat from his touch burst dazzlingly into her mind, followed quickly by his breath in her ear as he whispered instructions on decanting palm wine into a Nigerian anti-malarial potion. On her tongue, she felt the rich Bordeaux he'd opened for her most recent set of anti- inflammatory tests- no sense in wasting the rest, he'd said. Drink up. Belatedly, she realized that he was using legilimency on her.
The outraged realization made a door inside her mind slam shut, and Snape was thrown back in his chair, struggling to catch his breath.
"I had no idea you were sincere," he said lamely, blotting perspiration from his forehead with a handkerchief.
"I was under a truth potion last night. How could I have lied to you? And even if I could've, do you think I would lie to you, especially about something this important?"
"I hope you don't think your underwear problems are of any importance to me," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If I'd been thinking a moment ago, I would have sent you immediately to your head of house."
It was Hermione's turn to slam the desk. "I'm not talking about my underwear! I'm talking about my feelings for you!"
"All the more disappointing for you, Miss Granger," he said coolly, peeling a strand of hair from his damp forehead, "since I never wish to hear you bring up either subject again. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
"Yes sir," she said. "But may I ask you a question?"
"You may." The mulish look on his face did not make her feel optimistic.
She took a deep breath. "A few months ago, I came across the fourth edition of Hogwarts, A History. Since it was written in 1300, I thought it would be fascinating to compare it to the bowdlerized current edition. In the older edition, I came across a biography of a married couple, both teachers, who had met and married while she was still a Hogwarts student and he was a teaching. Consulting the fifth through twelfth editions, I found no fewer than twenty such couples, all of whom were allowed to see one another socially while the younger was still in school, and all of whom were invited back as teachers."
"Fascinating as this is, I trust you will get to the question before dawn?"
She cleared her throat. "I took the liberty of reading the Hogwarts Charter and all subsequent amendments, and I found nothing banning professor-pupil relations. I even asked Professor Binns. I can only conclude that there is no policy condemning such relationships."
"Miss Granger, if you don't stop beating about the bush I will be forced to take points."
She met his gaze squarely, though she felt as if her heart would burst through her ribcage at any moment. "Professor Snape, as I'm sure you are perfectly aware, I enjoy your company and am very attracted to you. Will you give me a chance to prove the depth of my sincerity?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"For the very simple reason that I do not like you, Miss Granger. Good day." He stood up and began to gather the sample flasks from the seventh year class.
Three years ago, almost to the tick, she had stood in the presence of the same man and let his casually cruel, "I see no difference" drive her to tears and humiliation. Hermione couldn't say exactly when the venom ceased to sting and began to inflame, but it most certainly had.
Snape turned from his task, presumably to seek the source of the choking sound that emanated from her direction.
Hermione was laughing. It started with silent shaking of the shoulders, then gasping intakes of breath, and then she issued forth with a full belly laugh that danced around the dungeon like sunbeams through cut glass. She gasped for breath, and again fell into belly laughs.
Snape had fixed his most threatening scowl on her, but it only made her laugh harder. He had come up in front of her and grasped her forearms before she was able to meet his stare. She was still for a moment, and then her lips quirked, and she was laughing again.
"Miss Granger, calm yourself!" His grip was iron. "You are hysterical."
"No, sir," she said, taking a deep breath. "You are. And I love you for it."
There it was.
Snape released her as if she had suddenly become too hot to hold. Perhaps she had. She could read nothing in his expression.
"I'll see you next Tuesday, sir."
She did not run to the door, nor did she turn back as she left.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Huge thanks to my betas, Dana and Jeff!
Equally huge and far more numerous thanks to all of you who have reviewed! Because I can't give you all bear hugs or serenade you, I can't adequately express how grateful I am to you for your kind, funny, and insightful comments. But put those fertile imaginations to work and you'll have a pretty good idea.
I'm nearly finished with this story (rough draft, of course) but I refuse to post without having someone excise my most egregious errors, so I'm sticking to the 1-betaed-chapter-per-week schedule. KDarkMaiden, you are an evil, evil individual. [EG]