Title: The Absinthe of Reason
Author: Mundungus42
Rating: R (well on its way)
Disclaimer: Climb every mountain, cite every quote. Snape and Granger aren't mine, nor is A.D.'s goat.
Summary: Response to the WIKTT Gryffindor Stud challenge.. growing more Gryffindor and more studly with each successive chapter.
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The next morning found Hermione waiting impatiently for Neville in the common room. She hoped he was a little less lovestruck than the other Gryffindor Stud hopefuls, who seemed to be unable to speak two words of sense together when she approached them.
She had it from Dennis that, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Neville had put the Psyche Potion to good use the previous morning, although it had netted all of them an additional two weeks of detention and even fewer opportunities to see their hard-won loves.
They didn't seem to mind this particular obstacle- Seamus had floated through the common room composing extemporaneous odes to Padma Patil's nose that Hermione prayed would never reach Padma's ears, while Ron fondly tried to straighten Harry's fringe, both falling into giggles as they exited the portrait hole. Boys.
When Neville finally appeared, Hermione found herself unable to keep from staring. He stood at the foot of the stairs like a king: feet spread wide, arms akimbo, chin jutting as he surveyed the common room. He was as an eagle to his housemates' turtledoves.
Hermione inquired in his ear if he was claiming the Gryffindor Stud title. He shook his head grandly.
"Mil has taken my regard at face value. I need no petty enticements to know that I will conquer her heart. The rest is incidental."
She blinked. "That's wonderful, Neville."
His eyes widened, giving him the passing look of the old Neville. "But what about you and Snape, Hermione? Did anything happen last night?"
"Well, yes," she gave him a half smile, "and no. I've got an appointment with the Headmaster that should determine a great deal after Care of Magical Creatures. I need someone to let Professor McGonagall know where I am for the first part of Transfiguration. You'll tell her, won't you? I tried to tell the others, but they're all dithering about like garden gnomes this morning."
Neville clapped her on the shoulder. "You can count on me, Hermione."
Conviction renewed and filled with affection, Hermione grasped him in a firm hug. "I knew I could count on you, Neville. And I'm so happy for-" she cut off abruptly and stiffened at what her arms encountered on Neville's waist and back. Was he wearing a corset??
Neville met her eye. "She'll know what to do with it, after all," he said in an undertone, then walked away with a wink.
Hermione stared at his retreating back in awe. If Neville could confront a violent Slytherin female wearing exciting underwear, then she could certainly approach the Headmaster with her intentions. As long as Dumbledore didn't offer her licorice allsorts, she thought she could keep her adult face.
She squared her shoulders and went through the portrait hole.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Won't you have a licorice allsort, Miss Granger?"
Be strong, Hermione! She cleared her throat. "No thank you, Headmaster. And you haven't answered my question."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair and solemnly twiddled a yellow striped sweet between his thumb and index finger. "You wish me to answer here and now? Can you not wait a few days for me to discuss it with your head of house?"
"No sir. The decision, both in law and in spirit is yours. Besides, there are things at stake that are far too important."
"I hope you're referring to more than the Stud of Gryffindor title."
Did the whole bloody school know? She fought for control of her features. "Yes, sir. Much more."
The Headmaster crunched down hard on his piece of candy. "I feel it only fair to tell you, Miss Granger, that the probability of my granting your request is currently slim to none. Your behaviour ever since your ridiculous bet with Messrs. Potter, Weasley, Finnigan, and Longbottom has hardly befitted someone of your reputation and academic standing. Furthermore, I am finding it more and more difficult to deny Severus his ardent wish that you be placed under probation and given detention for the remainder of the year. It is no small matter to distribute an illicit and dangerous potion and then lie about it."
"I did not lie about it, Headmaster."
"Perhaps, but you were less than forthcoming to Professor Snape. Did you know that by the time Madam Pomfrey had discovered the truth about the potion's origin from the affected students, he had already confiscated the potion from Miss Parkinson and deducted fifteen points from Slytherin?"
Points from his own house? That was serious.. She lowered her eyes. "No, sir, I didn't know that."
The Headmaster's voice was grave. "You will have one chance to explain yourself, Miss Granger."
Hermione swallowed the hard lump in her throat and blinked back the tears that were in danger of falling. Professor Snape was furious with her, and Professor Dumbledore was disappointed. "I don't know where to begin, Headmaster."
"Tell me more about the bet with your housemates."
"What do you know already?"
"I know which students are in the running, the identities of their romantic objects, the date the competition started, what Mr. Weasley's brothers sent him that night and therefore why you have been so persistent in troubling my Potions Master with inappropriate advances. Because I do not yet know all the facts, I have offered no advice to Severus on how to interpret your actions, but they seem to me the kind of juvenile prank that ill-befits a Head Girl."
Hermione's heart, which had sunk lower with each successive word, suddenly skipped a beat.
"There's a rather important aspect of the Gryffindor Stud competition that I don't think you are aware of, Headmaster."
"Other than the binding effect the alcohol had on your bet?"
"Yes sir, though I won't deny that it influenced my actions. Do you know how the intended was chosen for each participant?"
The lines in his forehead deepened. "I had assumed that the others chose the person who would be the most difficult for the participant to successfully- er- woo. Is this not the case?"
"No, Headmaster," she said softly. "The challenge rose from the collective despair of ever being with the unobtainable people we admired, not from any kind of mean-spiritedness. This is why truth potion has been the most effective weapon in this battle. It's also why I'm asking you to give me the same opportunity as my schoolmates to pursue the object of my affection."
"Do you mean to tell me that you would have pursued Severus even without this bet?" The scepticism in his voice stung.
"Yes, I jolly well would have!" she shouted, no longer caring if Dumbledore believed her. . The Headmaster stared at her the same way Seamus, Harry and Ron had stared at her that night. Hermione sighed.
"Please don't ask why I feel the way I do. I hardly know how to put it into words."
She could read nothing in Dumbledore's expression as he handed her the candy dish. "Try."
She popped an allsort between her teeth and cheek and sucked thoughtfully for a few moments.
"I think Professor Snape is one of the best men I have ever known. I don't mean to say he's the nicest or the easiest to get along with. He is a proud, ill-tempered man with a sharp tongue. His temper is short and he holds as tightly to his grudges as he does his privacy. In spite of that, he's also brilliant, erudite, funny, attractive, an excellent mentor, and honourable to a fault. In short, he's everything I ever wished for in a partner and more."
Dumbledore sat back in her chair, but did not interrupt. Encouraged, she took a deep breath.
"Professor Snape has also taught me to improve myself, though in ways I don't think he realizes. In the most prosaic sense, he's made me a better student by demanding a higher degree of excellence than many of my other professors. But beyond that, I learned to judge a person's character not from what he says, but by his actions."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"Well, look at how he treats Harry! Professor Snape heaps abuse on him in class but has risked his life to save him so many times."
"You're one of the few in your class who seems to have noticed," said Dumbledore, laying his glasses aside and massaging the bridge of his nose. "My dear, I apologise for the awkward nature of this question, but I'm sure you'll understand why I must ask. Has Professor Snape given any indication that he returns your affections?"
She knew she was walking a fine line. Too much one way could get Professor Snape a reprimand or worse, and too much the other way would make her sound ridiculous.
"His behaviour toward me has always been correct, but I feel very strongly that under the right circumstances, we would do well together."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Miss Granger, Professor Snape is more than twice your age with easily five times your experience. He has been cruel to you, hateful to your friends, has shown you no special favours and even told you that he does not like you. I fail to see how changing your circumstances will make your overtures to him any more successful than they have been."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Did Professor Snape speak to you about last night?"
He shifted slightly in his chair. "I had it from one of the paintings."
"Has Professor Snape spoken to you at all about his feelings for me or the Gryffindor Stud title?"
"I spoke to him about it."
"And?"
"He made no comment on either subject." Dumbledore waved a hand impatiently. "But this is irrelevant."
"It most certainly is not," she snapped. "If Professor Snape hasn't spoken to you on either subject, he obviously doesn't wish you to be involved. His reasons for behaving the way he did are his own, and you have no right to project yours on to him."
"The same is true for you, Miss Granger," he countered. "Why are your projections, namely that he wishes to conceal his romantic interest in you for propriety's sake, any more valid than mine, which is that your declarations have made him embarrassed and uncomfortable?"
"With all due respect, Headmaster, it's because I was there and you weren't."
Dumbledore sighed impatiently. She raised her hand.
"Please let me clarify, sir. In your long acquaintance with Professor Snape, have you ever known him to be enthusiastic about anything?"
"Any number of things, yes."
"But he didn't show his enthusiasm in a normal way, did he? He just complained about it slightly less than usual, am I right?"
The corner of the Headmaster's mouth twitched. "Go on."
"I told Professor Snape that I was attracted to him, and he didn't throw things or attempt hex me. He just said that he didn't 'like' me. For a man whose incisive insults have driven the most hardened students to tears, don't you think that seems a bit mild? Imprecise, even?"
"Indeed."
The concession made her start. "What?"
"Miss Granger, I am more than acquainted with Severus's moods and modes of speech. But I wasn't sure that you were."
She could have fainted with relief to see that a ghost of a twinkle had appeared in the Headmaster's eye. Her words poured out in a rush.
"Please, Headmaster. I've been his pupil for the past six years and studied privately with him. Any romantic illusions I might have had were dispelled years ago. All that remains is respect, admiration, and affection. I don't believe he will be an easy man to be with; we're not very similar, he and I. But in our interests and our characters, we complement one another, I think."
He regarded her through his half-moon spectacles, but she did not offer more. It was like staring down a hippogriff. To her great surprise, he broke their eye contact with a sigh.
"You do realize that your request is highly unusual."
"Not in the past, sir," she said earnestly, smelling victory at the change of subject. "Armando Dippet did it four times for precocious students during his tenure as headmaster, and Phineas Nigellus allowed more than fifty students to do so over his ten years-"
Dumbledore cut her off with a gentle gesture and a chuckle. "Peace, child. Your academic credentials were never in question. If it had been up to me, I would have had you sit your NEWTs two years ago and whisked you off to study tactics at the War Academy in China, but the other members of the Order argued that it would make you a target."
Warmth filled her, causing the devil's tongue knot in her stomach to loosen. She slid a parchment across the Headmaster's desk, willing herself not to burst in to tears of joy. "All my petition needs is your signature, sir."
Dumbledore produced a flame-coloured quill from the folds of his robes. "Do see that you are successful, Miss Granger. I would hate to explain to Severus how you escaped punishment if you fail to distract him." He signed his name with a flourish. "Congratulations, Miss Granger. You are now a graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with all the rights and privileges pertaining thereto." He tapped the parchment with his wand and sent it flying out the window.
In spite of her excitement, she was slightly alarmed. "Wouldn't an owl be a little more reliable, Headmaster?"
"Surely in your intensive study of 'Hogwarts, A History' you came across the fact that graduation petitions fly of their own accord to the Improper Use of Magic Office? Nobody knows how, but that's because the Department won't authorize the use of magic to study the method."
Hermione watched the parchment disappear in the distance over the Forbidden Forest. "To be honest sir, I'd forgotten. I've been studying graduation requirements so intensely that I hadn't quite made it to what happens afterward."
The Headmaster twinkled insinuatingly at her. "Well Miss Granger, there is usually a feast to celebrate," a plate of sandwiches appeared on his desk, "followed by the imbibing of sophisticated adult beverages. And speaking of which, let's see what Severus has taught you. Can you make a Larchmont?"
Hermione deftly summoned the Butter-Rum and orange liqueur that she suspected were hidden in the Headmaster's cupboard. "Did Merlin wear blue pants?"
The Headmaster's eyes gleamed as she transfigured his inkwell into a gleaming cocktail shaker. "So about your plan to snare my Potions Master-"
"Now, now, Headmaster," she admonished, conjuring a handful of ice cubes. "It is not the job of the bartender to speak, but to listen.
He beamed at her. "Very well then, Miss Granger. I heard a rather funny one the other day about a pirate who walks into a bar with a steering wheel hanging from his trousers-"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rest of the day was somewhat surreal. She didn't even cluck her tongue at Neville's slightly singed notes from Transfiguration. While ignoring a highly revisionist lecture on Grindelwald's destruction of Dresden in History of Magic, Hermione realized that nothing she did in class really mattered anymore. She was strongly tempted to test her theory on the effects of banishing spells on ghosts on the droning professor. She managed to stop herself, but only just.
Near total secrecy of her graduation had been her own request. She would still sit the Ministry-graded NEWTs with her classmates, and she had no desire to have Harry and Ron badger her to cast magic in the corridors, enter the Forbidden Forest, befoul the castle, and flaunt the myriad rules that no longer bound her as an alumna. Dumbledore had placed his trust in her, and she had no desire to betray it. Still, seeing Mrs. Norris skulking behind a suit of armour was a sore test to her resolve. But she didn't want to tip her hand to Snape or the boys.
Just until tonight, she told herself. Then Hogwarts will never know what hit it.
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The boys were in detention with Filch by the time she returned to Gryffindor tower after her last-minute cramming session in the library. In an act of surprising foresight, Harry had left his invisibility cloak on her bed with a note that read, "Go get him, tiger!"
She pulled off her jumper, unbuttoned her blouse and sighed with relief. The underwear charm must have had been designed with a situation like hers in mind- even though she had been wearing it for nearly three days straight, it didn't smell. Letting her outer clothes fall to the floor, she moved to the full-length mirror and examined the bustier and garter belt.
It was not at all what she would have chosen. Pansy and Millicent had overridden her objections to black and pink silk with pink ribbons. Still, it wasn't the end of the world. Even if it wasn't quite her style, sexy underwear had been by far Pansy's most valuable contribution to Hermione's quest for sexual confidence. If only there was something she could do about the pink...
Inspired, Hermione grabbed her wand. She couldn't get rid of the dratted things, but perhaps she might change their appearance. Fixing an image from an old film in her head, she carefully flicked her wand at her chest.
She felt the bustier ripple before she realized that her transfiguration had worked. It had lengthened, forming a vee below her navel, and she had replaced the complicated laces with nearly invisible hook closures, and smooth burgundy silk for the pink ribbons. The frilly garter belt was summarily simplified, as well. As an afterthought, she added some jet beads to the burgundy sections.
The fishnet stockings were next. She retrieved them from her shower curtain rod and transfigured them into sheer black silk. Much better.
She washed her face, cast a depilating charm on her legs, and applied the moisturizer Pansy had given her. When she had finished, she carefully rolled up one of the black silk stockings and placed her toe in the centre, as Pansy had instructed, before rolling it up over her leg and attaching it to the clips dangling from the belt. After securing the second stocking, she risked a glance at the full-length mirror over her shoulder.
The full effect was rather more than she had bargained for, and it took her breath away. The simple black silk arch above her posterior seemed to be supported by dark columns that ran down the sides of her thighs to the tops of the stockings. Her exposed buttocks were framed perfectly. Eyes glued to the figure in the mirror, she arched her back and ran her hand from the warm flesh of her cheek down to the back of her knee, and back up again. The silk whispered under her fingertips, and she felt herself grow warmer still. She lowered the leg that was still propped on the bathtub and turned to face the mirror full on.
It was incredible how all of the garments together brought focus to the knickers she wasn't wearing. The dark lines of the garter straps highlighted the pale skin of her upper thighs and the dark patch above them. She brushed an experimental finger across the soft flesh below the vee of her bustier, and shuddered at the warm tingles stirring beneath.
She ran her fingers over the beads up her sides and over the tips of her breasts, pausing to enjoy the warm silk and the featherlike sensations on her skin beneath. Lovely. The bead pattern consisted of lacelike arches and curves, but held a subtle suggestion of reptilian scales. Not for nothing had Hermione studied up on Victorian design for the mouse-to-snuffbox practical exam first year.
She pressed her hot palms against the undersides of her breasts and sighed. So warm. Almost perfect. Perfection would be when his hand replaced hers. She shivered at the prospect.
There would be no naughty schoolgirl tonight. Just a woman in her own clothes, her own skin, and on her own terms.
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Huge thanks to Dana and Jeff, my utterly squidgable beta readers!
My apologies for the late post- I was skiing. As you can tell, I still retain higher thought functions (and a few lower ones) and the ability to type. So I'd say it was a successful trip.
Anyway, ginormous, hugastical thanks to all those who reviewed! I'm sorry if I confused some of you with the previous chapter. Hopefully some lingering questions were clarified by this chapter. The next chapter will contain both absinthe and reason.
Onwards and downwards!
Author: Mundungus42
Rating: R (well on its way)
Disclaimer: Climb every mountain, cite every quote. Snape and Granger aren't mine, nor is A.D.'s goat.
Summary: Response to the WIKTT Gryffindor Stud challenge.. growing more Gryffindor and more studly with each successive chapter.
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The next morning found Hermione waiting impatiently for Neville in the common room. She hoped he was a little less lovestruck than the other Gryffindor Stud hopefuls, who seemed to be unable to speak two words of sense together when she approached them.
She had it from Dennis that, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Neville had put the Psyche Potion to good use the previous morning, although it had netted all of them an additional two weeks of detention and even fewer opportunities to see their hard-won loves.
They didn't seem to mind this particular obstacle- Seamus had floated through the common room composing extemporaneous odes to Padma Patil's nose that Hermione prayed would never reach Padma's ears, while Ron fondly tried to straighten Harry's fringe, both falling into giggles as they exited the portrait hole. Boys.
When Neville finally appeared, Hermione found herself unable to keep from staring. He stood at the foot of the stairs like a king: feet spread wide, arms akimbo, chin jutting as he surveyed the common room. He was as an eagle to his housemates' turtledoves.
Hermione inquired in his ear if he was claiming the Gryffindor Stud title. He shook his head grandly.
"Mil has taken my regard at face value. I need no petty enticements to know that I will conquer her heart. The rest is incidental."
She blinked. "That's wonderful, Neville."
His eyes widened, giving him the passing look of the old Neville. "But what about you and Snape, Hermione? Did anything happen last night?"
"Well, yes," she gave him a half smile, "and no. I've got an appointment with the Headmaster that should determine a great deal after Care of Magical Creatures. I need someone to let Professor McGonagall know where I am for the first part of Transfiguration. You'll tell her, won't you? I tried to tell the others, but they're all dithering about like garden gnomes this morning."
Neville clapped her on the shoulder. "You can count on me, Hermione."
Conviction renewed and filled with affection, Hermione grasped him in a firm hug. "I knew I could count on you, Neville. And I'm so happy for-" she cut off abruptly and stiffened at what her arms encountered on Neville's waist and back. Was he wearing a corset??
Neville met her eye. "She'll know what to do with it, after all," he said in an undertone, then walked away with a wink.
Hermione stared at his retreating back in awe. If Neville could confront a violent Slytherin female wearing exciting underwear, then she could certainly approach the Headmaster with her intentions. As long as Dumbledore didn't offer her licorice allsorts, she thought she could keep her adult face.
She squared her shoulders and went through the portrait hole.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Won't you have a licorice allsort, Miss Granger?"
Be strong, Hermione! She cleared her throat. "No thank you, Headmaster. And you haven't answered my question."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair and solemnly twiddled a yellow striped sweet between his thumb and index finger. "You wish me to answer here and now? Can you not wait a few days for me to discuss it with your head of house?"
"No sir. The decision, both in law and in spirit is yours. Besides, there are things at stake that are far too important."
"I hope you're referring to more than the Stud of Gryffindor title."
Did the whole bloody school know? She fought for control of her features. "Yes, sir. Much more."
The Headmaster crunched down hard on his piece of candy. "I feel it only fair to tell you, Miss Granger, that the probability of my granting your request is currently slim to none. Your behaviour ever since your ridiculous bet with Messrs. Potter, Weasley, Finnigan, and Longbottom has hardly befitted someone of your reputation and academic standing. Furthermore, I am finding it more and more difficult to deny Severus his ardent wish that you be placed under probation and given detention for the remainder of the year. It is no small matter to distribute an illicit and dangerous potion and then lie about it."
"I did not lie about it, Headmaster."
"Perhaps, but you were less than forthcoming to Professor Snape. Did you know that by the time Madam Pomfrey had discovered the truth about the potion's origin from the affected students, he had already confiscated the potion from Miss Parkinson and deducted fifteen points from Slytherin?"
Points from his own house? That was serious.. She lowered her eyes. "No, sir, I didn't know that."
The Headmaster's voice was grave. "You will have one chance to explain yourself, Miss Granger."
Hermione swallowed the hard lump in her throat and blinked back the tears that were in danger of falling. Professor Snape was furious with her, and Professor Dumbledore was disappointed. "I don't know where to begin, Headmaster."
"Tell me more about the bet with your housemates."
"What do you know already?"
"I know which students are in the running, the identities of their romantic objects, the date the competition started, what Mr. Weasley's brothers sent him that night and therefore why you have been so persistent in troubling my Potions Master with inappropriate advances. Because I do not yet know all the facts, I have offered no advice to Severus on how to interpret your actions, but they seem to me the kind of juvenile prank that ill-befits a Head Girl."
Hermione's heart, which had sunk lower with each successive word, suddenly skipped a beat.
"There's a rather important aspect of the Gryffindor Stud competition that I don't think you are aware of, Headmaster."
"Other than the binding effect the alcohol had on your bet?"
"Yes sir, though I won't deny that it influenced my actions. Do you know how the intended was chosen for each participant?"
The lines in his forehead deepened. "I had assumed that the others chose the person who would be the most difficult for the participant to successfully- er- woo. Is this not the case?"
"No, Headmaster," she said softly. "The challenge rose from the collective despair of ever being with the unobtainable people we admired, not from any kind of mean-spiritedness. This is why truth potion has been the most effective weapon in this battle. It's also why I'm asking you to give me the same opportunity as my schoolmates to pursue the object of my affection."
"Do you mean to tell me that you would have pursued Severus even without this bet?" The scepticism in his voice stung.
"Yes, I jolly well would have!" she shouted, no longer caring if Dumbledore believed her. . The Headmaster stared at her the same way Seamus, Harry and Ron had stared at her that night. Hermione sighed.
"Please don't ask why I feel the way I do. I hardly know how to put it into words."
She could read nothing in Dumbledore's expression as he handed her the candy dish. "Try."
She popped an allsort between her teeth and cheek and sucked thoughtfully for a few moments.
"I think Professor Snape is one of the best men I have ever known. I don't mean to say he's the nicest or the easiest to get along with. He is a proud, ill-tempered man with a sharp tongue. His temper is short and he holds as tightly to his grudges as he does his privacy. In spite of that, he's also brilliant, erudite, funny, attractive, an excellent mentor, and honourable to a fault. In short, he's everything I ever wished for in a partner and more."
Dumbledore sat back in her chair, but did not interrupt. Encouraged, she took a deep breath.
"Professor Snape has also taught me to improve myself, though in ways I don't think he realizes. In the most prosaic sense, he's made me a better student by demanding a higher degree of excellence than many of my other professors. But beyond that, I learned to judge a person's character not from what he says, but by his actions."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"Well, look at how he treats Harry! Professor Snape heaps abuse on him in class but has risked his life to save him so many times."
"You're one of the few in your class who seems to have noticed," said Dumbledore, laying his glasses aside and massaging the bridge of his nose. "My dear, I apologise for the awkward nature of this question, but I'm sure you'll understand why I must ask. Has Professor Snape given any indication that he returns your affections?"
She knew she was walking a fine line. Too much one way could get Professor Snape a reprimand or worse, and too much the other way would make her sound ridiculous.
"His behaviour toward me has always been correct, but I feel very strongly that under the right circumstances, we would do well together."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Miss Granger, Professor Snape is more than twice your age with easily five times your experience. He has been cruel to you, hateful to your friends, has shown you no special favours and even told you that he does not like you. I fail to see how changing your circumstances will make your overtures to him any more successful than they have been."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Did Professor Snape speak to you about last night?"
He shifted slightly in his chair. "I had it from one of the paintings."
"Has Professor Snape spoken to you at all about his feelings for me or the Gryffindor Stud title?"
"I spoke to him about it."
"And?"
"He made no comment on either subject." Dumbledore waved a hand impatiently. "But this is irrelevant."
"It most certainly is not," she snapped. "If Professor Snape hasn't spoken to you on either subject, he obviously doesn't wish you to be involved. His reasons for behaving the way he did are his own, and you have no right to project yours on to him."
"The same is true for you, Miss Granger," he countered. "Why are your projections, namely that he wishes to conceal his romantic interest in you for propriety's sake, any more valid than mine, which is that your declarations have made him embarrassed and uncomfortable?"
"With all due respect, Headmaster, it's because I was there and you weren't."
Dumbledore sighed impatiently. She raised her hand.
"Please let me clarify, sir. In your long acquaintance with Professor Snape, have you ever known him to be enthusiastic about anything?"
"Any number of things, yes."
"But he didn't show his enthusiasm in a normal way, did he? He just complained about it slightly less than usual, am I right?"
The corner of the Headmaster's mouth twitched. "Go on."
"I told Professor Snape that I was attracted to him, and he didn't throw things or attempt hex me. He just said that he didn't 'like' me. For a man whose incisive insults have driven the most hardened students to tears, don't you think that seems a bit mild? Imprecise, even?"
"Indeed."
The concession made her start. "What?"
"Miss Granger, I am more than acquainted with Severus's moods and modes of speech. But I wasn't sure that you were."
She could have fainted with relief to see that a ghost of a twinkle had appeared in the Headmaster's eye. Her words poured out in a rush.
"Please, Headmaster. I've been his pupil for the past six years and studied privately with him. Any romantic illusions I might have had were dispelled years ago. All that remains is respect, admiration, and affection. I don't believe he will be an easy man to be with; we're not very similar, he and I. But in our interests and our characters, we complement one another, I think."
He regarded her through his half-moon spectacles, but she did not offer more. It was like staring down a hippogriff. To her great surprise, he broke their eye contact with a sigh.
"You do realize that your request is highly unusual."
"Not in the past, sir," she said earnestly, smelling victory at the change of subject. "Armando Dippet did it four times for precocious students during his tenure as headmaster, and Phineas Nigellus allowed more than fifty students to do so over his ten years-"
Dumbledore cut her off with a gentle gesture and a chuckle. "Peace, child. Your academic credentials were never in question. If it had been up to me, I would have had you sit your NEWTs two years ago and whisked you off to study tactics at the War Academy in China, but the other members of the Order argued that it would make you a target."
Warmth filled her, causing the devil's tongue knot in her stomach to loosen. She slid a parchment across the Headmaster's desk, willing herself not to burst in to tears of joy. "All my petition needs is your signature, sir."
Dumbledore produced a flame-coloured quill from the folds of his robes. "Do see that you are successful, Miss Granger. I would hate to explain to Severus how you escaped punishment if you fail to distract him." He signed his name with a flourish. "Congratulations, Miss Granger. You are now a graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with all the rights and privileges pertaining thereto." He tapped the parchment with his wand and sent it flying out the window.
In spite of her excitement, she was slightly alarmed. "Wouldn't an owl be a little more reliable, Headmaster?"
"Surely in your intensive study of 'Hogwarts, A History' you came across the fact that graduation petitions fly of their own accord to the Improper Use of Magic Office? Nobody knows how, but that's because the Department won't authorize the use of magic to study the method."
Hermione watched the parchment disappear in the distance over the Forbidden Forest. "To be honest sir, I'd forgotten. I've been studying graduation requirements so intensely that I hadn't quite made it to what happens afterward."
The Headmaster twinkled insinuatingly at her. "Well Miss Granger, there is usually a feast to celebrate," a plate of sandwiches appeared on his desk, "followed by the imbibing of sophisticated adult beverages. And speaking of which, let's see what Severus has taught you. Can you make a Larchmont?"
Hermione deftly summoned the Butter-Rum and orange liqueur that she suspected were hidden in the Headmaster's cupboard. "Did Merlin wear blue pants?"
The Headmaster's eyes gleamed as she transfigured his inkwell into a gleaming cocktail shaker. "So about your plan to snare my Potions Master-"
"Now, now, Headmaster," she admonished, conjuring a handful of ice cubes. "It is not the job of the bartender to speak, but to listen.
He beamed at her. "Very well then, Miss Granger. I heard a rather funny one the other day about a pirate who walks into a bar with a steering wheel hanging from his trousers-"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rest of the day was somewhat surreal. She didn't even cluck her tongue at Neville's slightly singed notes from Transfiguration. While ignoring a highly revisionist lecture on Grindelwald's destruction of Dresden in History of Magic, Hermione realized that nothing she did in class really mattered anymore. She was strongly tempted to test her theory on the effects of banishing spells on ghosts on the droning professor. She managed to stop herself, but only just.
Near total secrecy of her graduation had been her own request. She would still sit the Ministry-graded NEWTs with her classmates, and she had no desire to have Harry and Ron badger her to cast magic in the corridors, enter the Forbidden Forest, befoul the castle, and flaunt the myriad rules that no longer bound her as an alumna. Dumbledore had placed his trust in her, and she had no desire to betray it. Still, seeing Mrs. Norris skulking behind a suit of armour was a sore test to her resolve. But she didn't want to tip her hand to Snape or the boys.
Just until tonight, she told herself. Then Hogwarts will never know what hit it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The boys were in detention with Filch by the time she returned to Gryffindor tower after her last-minute cramming session in the library. In an act of surprising foresight, Harry had left his invisibility cloak on her bed with a note that read, "Go get him, tiger!"
She pulled off her jumper, unbuttoned her blouse and sighed with relief. The underwear charm must have had been designed with a situation like hers in mind- even though she had been wearing it for nearly three days straight, it didn't smell. Letting her outer clothes fall to the floor, she moved to the full-length mirror and examined the bustier and garter belt.
It was not at all what she would have chosen. Pansy and Millicent had overridden her objections to black and pink silk with pink ribbons. Still, it wasn't the end of the world. Even if it wasn't quite her style, sexy underwear had been by far Pansy's most valuable contribution to Hermione's quest for sexual confidence. If only there was something she could do about the pink...
Inspired, Hermione grabbed her wand. She couldn't get rid of the dratted things, but perhaps she might change their appearance. Fixing an image from an old film in her head, she carefully flicked her wand at her chest.
She felt the bustier ripple before she realized that her transfiguration had worked. It had lengthened, forming a vee below her navel, and she had replaced the complicated laces with nearly invisible hook closures, and smooth burgundy silk for the pink ribbons. The frilly garter belt was summarily simplified, as well. As an afterthought, she added some jet beads to the burgundy sections.
The fishnet stockings were next. She retrieved them from her shower curtain rod and transfigured them into sheer black silk. Much better.
She washed her face, cast a depilating charm on her legs, and applied the moisturizer Pansy had given her. When she had finished, she carefully rolled up one of the black silk stockings and placed her toe in the centre, as Pansy had instructed, before rolling it up over her leg and attaching it to the clips dangling from the belt. After securing the second stocking, she risked a glance at the full-length mirror over her shoulder.
The full effect was rather more than she had bargained for, and it took her breath away. The simple black silk arch above her posterior seemed to be supported by dark columns that ran down the sides of her thighs to the tops of the stockings. Her exposed buttocks were framed perfectly. Eyes glued to the figure in the mirror, she arched her back and ran her hand from the warm flesh of her cheek down to the back of her knee, and back up again. The silk whispered under her fingertips, and she felt herself grow warmer still. She lowered the leg that was still propped on the bathtub and turned to face the mirror full on.
It was incredible how all of the garments together brought focus to the knickers she wasn't wearing. The dark lines of the garter straps highlighted the pale skin of her upper thighs and the dark patch above them. She brushed an experimental finger across the soft flesh below the vee of her bustier, and shuddered at the warm tingles stirring beneath.
She ran her fingers over the beads up her sides and over the tips of her breasts, pausing to enjoy the warm silk and the featherlike sensations on her skin beneath. Lovely. The bead pattern consisted of lacelike arches and curves, but held a subtle suggestion of reptilian scales. Not for nothing had Hermione studied up on Victorian design for the mouse-to-snuffbox practical exam first year.
She pressed her hot palms against the undersides of her breasts and sighed. So warm. Almost perfect. Perfection would be when his hand replaced hers. She shivered at the prospect.
There would be no naughty schoolgirl tonight. Just a woman in her own clothes, her own skin, and on her own terms.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Huge thanks to Dana and Jeff, my utterly squidgable beta readers!
My apologies for the late post- I was skiing. As you can tell, I still retain higher thought functions (and a few lower ones) and the ability to type. So I'd say it was a successful trip.
Anyway, ginormous, hugastical thanks to all those who reviewed! I'm sorry if I confused some of you with the previous chapter. Hopefully some lingering questions were clarified by this chapter. The next chapter will contain both absinthe and reason.
Onwards and downwards!