Disclaimer: Not mine. Hers. Except Ailie.
Long A/N (skip down the next three paragraphs if you're in a hurry): I got a lot of comments about the cliffhanger of the last chapter- I'm really sorry, I didn't know it was that much of a cliffie, and besides, you wouldn't expect me to resolve it right away, would you? They don't call me a sadist for nothing. So. not much resolution this chapter, sorry. You'll find out soon enough.
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed me. As ff.net doesn't have a hit count unless you pay for it, I don't know that someone's read this unless you review, and it does my little author's heart good. To answer some questions: Angel, thanks for the idea. I'm not really sure what's going to happen at the end, and it's a looooong way off. To everyone else: someone mentioned a worry that because I didn't update for so long, I was going to forget the story. Please, don't worry. I've written 100,000 words of this story now and I'm not going to let it go to waste.
Oh, one thing: while Hermione's actual bathroom is my fantasy, others have done similar things with bathrooms and they deserve acknowledgment. The primary one I can think of is Bill's pool in Jewel of the Nile, but there are countless others. Okay, on with the story.
Chapter Twenty-Three- I wish I could say that everyone was wrong
It was during a cozy chat over tea the following Saturday that McGonagall managed to get Hermione talking about the upcoming ball, and her plans for it. It only took a few subtle hints in the area of her research to suggest to Hermione that the students should experience the solstice the way Ailie experienced it, and the girl's fertile mind pounced on ways to achieve that goal; the most logical of which was to use a potion. A few days later, Hooch suggested to Flitwick that Hermione might, in her usual style, be overloading herself. Sprout slipped in mentions of Hermione's lack of progress with transformio solutions (all of which was pure fiction- Hermione had barely begun her research at that point) when Snape came down to the greenhouses for ingredients. Minerva casually mentioned one evening to Albus the magnitude of the task Hermione had taken on, and the difficulty of a potion such as the transformio, and Albus, sufficiently twinkly, had agreed that it would be a good idea to ask Severus to assist their young organiser.
All in all, it didn't take much arguing from Dumbledore to convince Snape that he should be the one to help Hermione in her work. The old wizard was careful to couch the request in a commanding tone, thereby giving his young colleague the excuse of being ordered to do the job. He chuckled as he climbed the stairs leading out of the dungeons.
'"If Miss Granger finds the task too hard and needs a babysitter," indeed,' he said to himself. The tabby cat sitting at his feet purred in agreement.
Later that evening, Hermione was pondering the reason for the smirk her new dinner companion had displayed at mealtime. She hadn't looked at him during the meal, of course, still being angry for the argument of a few days previous, but her peripheral vision had informed her of the very slight aura of smugness that had been emanating from the usually impenetrable man beside her. It confused her.
Distractedly, she turned her attention back to the woman across the way from her, surprised to see her old transfiguration teacher looking perplexed. She risked a glance at Ailie, seated between them in front of the fire. The other girl was occupied with the dancing flames, no help at all.
'Is something wrong, Minerva?' Hermione asked, concerned. The older witch looked up at her, forcing a smile.
'Well, my dear, now that you ask...' Hermione groaned inwardly. That was never a good beginning to a conversation. However, the witch surprised her by saying next, 'How are your plans for the ball going?'
'Fine,' the younger girl answered, with a slight grimace. 'Though it is turning out to be a bigger task than I thought.'
McGonagall gave her a small smile, and Hermione knew that the other shoe was about to drop.
'Now that you mention it, dear,' the old witch said, with an anxious tone, 'Albus has been hearing reports that you might not be coping well.'
Not one to easily accept criticism, Hermione opened her mouth to voice her indignation when Minerva shook her head. 'I didn't mean that, Hermione. Perhaps it would have been better put to say that some of the staff are worried that you might over-work yourself.'
Slowly, Hermione nodded. It was true that she had felt a little stretched lately. Not that she couldn't cope with a little extra work, she reminded herself, but there was a problem with the transformio...
She was surprised, then, to hear McGonagall continue, 'And, well, Albus thought it might be a good idea if he assigned someone to help you. Someone who might be able to assist on the more difficult tasks you've taken on, such as the transformio potion.'
Hermione looked up at her former teacher, slightly lost. Minerva raised her eyebrows, then said, flatly, 'Professor Snape.'
'*What?*' Hermione gasped. Words were lost on her for a second, then she said, 'Forgive me, Professor McGonagall, but who on earth expects me to work with that man? Not that he'd even agree to it,' she added to herself.
'Albus has already asked him, my dear,' McGonagall replied, with a chuckle at being addressed so formally by her former student. Hermione glared into the fire for a few minutes, before sighing.
'Well, I do need help with the transformio solution, and I suppose that he is the potions master,' she finally muttered. 'But how on earth I'm expected to work with him in that damp old dungeon...'
'He's not such a bad choice, Hermione,' Ailie piped up, startling Hermione and McGonagall both. Both witches stared at the Wiccan girl, and she shrugged. 'Well, he's linked to me, isn't he? That means he has a sort of link with nature too, through me. He's really the best wizard you could have, working on a potion that links people with the rhythm of the earth.'
Hermione looked at McGonagall, and the other woman nodded. 'Yes,' she said, 'that's true. Besides, Hermione, Severus Snape isn't called a master of potions for nothing. He really is the best person on staff to be helping you with such a project.'
Unable to argue with such reasoning, Hermione reconciled herself to the plan, and stared into the fire thinking. She missed the little twinkle shared between her two friends as they watched her.
***
The pairing of Snape and Hermione Granger went off with relatively little fuss. The morning after Hermione was informed that Snape would be helping her, Dumbledore casually mentioned that if both had the evening free, it would be a good idea to start their collaboration straight away, thus neatly removing any chance of either backing out. After a pause, Snape began to suggest- or command- a time for her to meet him in the dungeons, only to have her interrupt him.
'I believe eight o'clock will be a good time,' she said, casually buttering her toast, 'If you would care to meet me in my rooms?'
Snape glared at the young girl, but she merely took a delicate bite of her toast.
'I would think,' he said in his coldest tone, 'that my office would be a more appropriate place.'
Hermione put down her toast with deliberate care and turned to look at him. 'Perhaps. But, as this is my project, I felt that my rooms would be a more comfortable setting. The potion doesn't absolutely require a dark and dampened dungeon as an ingredient, after all.' She gave him a small smile, and, while he was still summoning up a suitably biting reply, left.
Having a fairly free day- she was only due to assist in Flitwick's fifth year charms class before a free afternoon- Hermione decided to set to work and convert her rooms. It had never occurred to her before that, instead of having to wait for permission from Snape whenever she wanted to experiment with her potions work, she could simply create her own lab in her rooms. This thought prompted more musings- when she first moved back to Hogwarts, she had been so grateful to be accepted as a member of staff that she hadn't paid attention to her surroundings. It now occurred to her that she was under no obligation to leave the rooms as they were presented to her, lovely as they were. She smiled to herself as she stood in the middle of her living room, contemplating- as Harry had once said, when they were trying to prevent Ron being killed by a plant, 'You're a witch, Hermione!'
It took a quick trip to the library for Hermione to refresh herself on the spells and incantations she would need, and an afternoon of adjustments before she was reasonably satisfied. In the dimness of twilight, she was pleased with the result of her efforts. Her little sitting room was now extended to include a study chamber, complete with lab table, in a cosy enclave. The rest of the sitting room was decorated in shades of red, cream and gold- mostly because she knew that having to remain in a room with predominantly Gryffindor colours would drive Snape slowly but surely mad, although the colours did have a warming effect on Hermione. The dark red colour of the walls paired with the cream curtains and gold features surrounding her wide windows was surprisingly calming. Hermione briefly considered establishing a large Gryffindor mural on one of the walls, but had decided against it; there was a danger of Snape flatly refusing to work there if she went too far. She had settled for a small Gryffindor shield magically carved into the white marble of the fireplace.
She had taken a leaf out of the great hall's book for her bedroom, and had magically charmed it to show her the night sky. She thought perhaps she might one day charm it to show the day as well, but for the moment the night sky hanging in her bedroom somehow appealed to her. The rest of the room was decorated in blue and gold, with her bed curtains the only bright spot in cream.
The bathroom was where the hard work was put in, and Hermione felt secretly proud of her work there. The incantation to enchant walls and ceilings to reflect the outside world was particularly hard. The incantation to enchant walls and ceilings to reflect the musings of the imagination varied depending on the intricacy of the image. Add movement to that, and the spells became even more intricate and complicated.
Walking in to the glass box that was now her bathroom, Hermione didn't bother to hide a smile of delight. Her bathroom now appeared to be a glass box underwater, with light streaming in from up above. She had settled on tiling the floor in a deep bluey-green, after a few queasy tries at charming the floor to be watery and deep. Visible through the walls was the sandy bottom of the ocean. It was as though her bathroom was sitting just off shore from a desert island.
She leant down and turned on the taps for her bath. Her time as prefect and Head Girl had allowed her access to the stately bathrooms reserved for those positions, but she had never really felt clean after taking a bath in what appeared to be a pool. Her own bath was just slightly bigger than normal size, and set slightly into the floor. Her shower- better for those rushed mornings- was set in a corner, created so that the water would appear to pour from the ceiling. A dressing table, with plush seat, large gilt mirror and wide table space was a splash of gold in another corner of the spacious bathroom.
The water continued to pour as Hermione walked back into her bedroom and out through the sitting room to her new lab. There were quite a few new stores she would need to stock up on, but she knew that she had a few essential oils left over from her student days... Her eyes quickly lit on the small bottles, and it was a matter of minutes to mix up a relaxing concoction for her bath. Quickly, she moved back to the bathroom, pouring some of the mixture in before turning the taps off.
Watching the waves crash overhead, Hermione relaxed into her bath. For the first time she could remember, she was sitting in a room that was completely her own creation. When she had been small, her parents had let her help choose the colours of her room, but it really wasn't the same. This apartment felt like more than a set of rooms now. It felt like home.
A small frown creased Hermione's forehead. There was something missing still. Hmm... Of course. With a smile, Hermione grabbed her wand and whispered, 'audio Satie Gymnopedie five.' The tinkling notes of the classical piano piece filtered through the air, and Hermione settled back, glad that she had absorbed most of her parents music collection into her wand last summer.
The music lulled her into a half-sleep, and it was much, much later that a rather waterlogged Hermione emerged from her bathroom. A glance at the clock told her that she was too late to catch dinner, but she didn't really mind. She was so relaxed after her bath that a meal alone before the fire sounded far more appealing. Some quick organisation with the house elves saw Hermione seated at her table by the window, enjoying a superb beef fillet and a small glass of wine. She could almost feel the clinging folds of her childhood finally falling away from her.
***
Snape felt slightly awkward as he stood before the door to Hermione's chambers. In most cases, staff had an office separate to their private quarters. Hermione, not being a full member of staff, had no proper office to take over, and as far as Snape knew hadn't asked for one. To be visiting Granger in such a personal space went severely against the grain, even though it was for the purposes of work.
Pushing aside his temporary squeamishness, Snape knocked sharply on the door before him, and waited.
It was only a few seconds before Hermione opened the door for him, her eyes sparkling strangely. The waft of her scent the movement sent his way occupied Snape for a short time, and so his reaction to the new decoration of Hermione's rooms was slightly delayed. When he did, however, he was unable to hide a grimace, and noted a momentary merriment spark through his companion's eyes. So the witch did this on purpose, he thought. Interesting.
As soon as he was able, Snape began to voice his concerns about the lack of a lab- accompanied by the usual sneer- when Hermione walked to what used to be the far corner of her sitting room, drawing his attention to an alcove there. It clearly contained all the essentials for any experiments they would need, including, as he found out when he was about to complain, perfectly adequate lighting and ventilation.
The rest of the evening seemed to coast on the bafflement Hermione had established in the beginning. Snape found himself offering information merely to defend himself from another surprise. Gradually, the work took over, and Snape calmly listened as Hermione went over her research. By the time eleven o'clock came around, the two of them had reviewed all of Hermione's- as usual extensive- notes, and all in relative harmony. They agreed to meet for testing as soon as Hermione could acquire the extra ingredients they would need from Hogsmeade.
'Thank you, Professor Snape,' she said as she showed him from the door. Snape carried the picture in his mind of her sitting, still at work, at the table, extending him the courtesy of his title for the first time in weeks, all the way back to the dungeons. It was the first time to memory that he had disliked hearing himself so respectfully addressed.
***
Ailie looked around the magical terrace upon which she sat. As time went by, the strangeness of wizard magic was wearing off on her; she could now sit in this secret little garden, perfectly warm, as magic kept the chill of a last nasty lash by the departed winter away from her.
She smiled at Minerva McGonagall as the other woman poured her another cup of herbal tea.
'You know,' the older witch said, 'it might be a good idea to discuss with Esmerelda a course in plant healing for the students.'
Beside her, his feet out in the sun, Albus Dumbledore absently nodded his head.
'Yes, a very good idea, Minerva. Ailie's knowledge could be very valuable to the students,' he said. Ailie smiled widely.
'Do you really mean it?' she asked, feeling excitement bubble up inside her. 'There is so much in plant lore that young people can use. To be able to teach it again-' She broke off, aware of a tinge of sadness in her tone. She had been in charge of some parts of the education of the younger members of her coven Unwilling to let it affect her, Ailie pushed the feeling aside and concentrated on the proposed task. 'When do you think we could begin?'
Minerva smiled. 'Well, we would need to discuss it with Esmerelda, though I'm certain she wouldn't mind. And, of course, you would need to fit it in with the course structure.' She glanced at Albus, and inclined her head. 'We could perhaps organise a session to begin with, don't you think? Next week?'
'A perfect time,' smiled the headmaster. 'You could perhaps teach the students one of your marvellous brews for tea,' he added, to Ailie. 'It might keep the smuggling of butterbeer down for a time.'
His colleague looked slightly contemplative for a moment. 'If we placed you in Hermione's teaching period, it wouldn't disrupt Esmerelda's schedule too much.'
'I wouldn't want to get in Hermione's way,' Ailie said, concerned. 'She's the one supposed to be teaching, not me.'
'I'm certain Miss Granger will be delighted to fit you into her class schedule,' Dumbledore said, leaning back once more to have a snooze under his hat.
'Besides, Hermione has been rather busy with plans for the ball. It will do her good to have a slight rest,' McGonagall said.
Ailie gave a sly glance at the older woman and took a sip of her tea. 'Yes,' she said after a pause. 'She and Snape have been at it for several nights in a row, you know.'
McGonagall raised her eyebrows, merriment in her eyes. 'Oh, really?' she said with a small grin, before remembering herself. She cleared her throat. 'Well, it is good that their preparations for the ball are moving so swiftly,' she added, trying to keep her expression sober.
'How are Severus and Hermione coping with it all?' Dumbledore's sleepy voice enquired from beneath his hat.
'He's taking a lot of cold showers,' Ailie said unthinkingly. She realised what she had said, and clamped her mouth shut, horrified. Dumbledore often seemed omnipotent, but surely an elderly wizard like him wouldn't have picked up on the plots and plans regarding those two...?
Her answer came with a barely audible chuckle from the direction of the hat. 'Good, good,' the old man said.
Ailie settled back to drink her tea, blushing.
***
Severus Snape was having a shower. Not a cold shower; no, the experience of the last few days had taught him that that old trick did not work. Neither did pacing, stalking the corridors, conducting experiments, and, yes, even banging his head against a wall. So the shower was hot; scaldingly hot. It was his last resort, and, thankfully, it seemed to be working.
Someone out there was out to get him, he knew. This whole- working- with Hermione thing was just too much to take. She seemed to have found a way to frustrate him beyond endurance- and not the type of frustration that the Neville Longbottoms of the world wreaked upon him. If she was nice to him for one more hour, he swore, he would push the books off that damned table and put it to better use.
One fist clenched around the cold water tap and turned it on full, as the image passing through his mind had its effect on his body. Apparently hot water had its limitations. Damn it.
When he had left this evening, Hermione had been bent over a set of estimations, her hair pulled up out of her face in a loose bun, her features lit by the firelight. She had been confident and polite the whole evening, giving him no reason to pick a fight with her. Just like she had been for almost the past week, saying good morning every morning with a half-smile, titling him 'Professor' every time she had to address him by name, in fact giving him every respect that was due to him when she was a student, this time without the badly concealed antipathy. Yet, at the same time, she was obviously not harkening back to feelings of her school days. There was an underlying confidence about her now, an assurance. Something that told him that he could no longer intimidate her like a frightened schoolgirl.
Why did that quality have to be so gods-damned appealing?
Snape had always been attracted to women his own age or even older, mostly because of their capacity to be assured of themselves, and had always preferred intelligent women. A certain type of classic beauty had also attracted his interest. As it stood now, the only quality Hermione Granger was lacking on his list was age, and the need for that requirement was rapidly fading in importance.
If he could only get her to fight with him again, things would return to normal, he knew. If only she would return to her childish resistance, or just regain that element of innocent helplessness that angered him so, everything would be fine.
The thing was, she was still Hermione Granger. She was still abominably Gryffindor, still a know-it-all who spent hours poring over a book for some obscure fact. She just wasn't afraid of him any more.
And it made him want to take that intriguing body of hers and kiss every inch until she promised never to call him 'Professor' again.
It wasn't as though she was purposely trying to drive him mad, though he was sure she would laugh if she knew. If she had been doing it on purpose, he would have had plentiful cause to pick a fight and rid himself of this terrible frustration. As yet, she hadn't given him any reason whatsoever to have even a mild disagreement with her; every time he said something designed to provoke her, she had, with damnable calm, rebutted him, and continued with her work. Which was wreaking havok with his nervous system.
Snape desperately tried to remind himself that he wasn't attracted to this woman. She was an ex-student, she hated him, and she was far too young to capture his interest. It was merely his under-active hormones reacting to the presence of a beautiful young body. Yes, that's the thought Severus, her young body. You're too young to become a dirty old man, old man. These thoughts are just some strange hormonal reaction.
Resolvedly turning the frigid water back to scorching hot, some part of Snape wondered at his capacity for self-denial.
***
In her own rooms, Hermione's capacity for denial was firmly in place. She felt that the project with Snape was going surprisingly well. Considering the difficulties they had had in the past, she had expected more difficulties, but Professor Snape was just as interested in the work as she was, and they had managed to put their differences aside.
She was in no way affected by the silky tones of his voice, drifting through the night as he read a passage from one of the texts to her or suggested a new angle to their experiments. The image of his graceful movements preparing potion ingredients, his long, nimble fingers moving with swiftness and ease, did not remain with her hours after he left at night. If his stare sometimes haunted her dreams, or the night sky hanging over her bed sometimes saw her tossing and turning for hours with frustrated longing, the morning held no memory of it.
And if there was a slight bounce in her step, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that his breathing sometimes came quicker when she was near. It couldn't, because she hadn't noticed it.
With a yawn, she reached for a letter an owl had delivered earlier. It was, hopefully, some information she and Severus had been waiting for. She smiled. She had gone over a lesson plan with Ailie for next week, a move which had given her an extra two hours tomorrow to work on the transformio potion. At this rate, they would be finished weeks before the potion was required, and all without any fuss.
***
It was amazing how the grass managed to fight its way through the cold snow, Ailie thought as she walked around the deserted grounds of Hogwarts. It was so cold, yet the brave little peaks of green fought their way upward through frozen earth. She leant down and brushed her hand over the little tufts, feeling only their brush against her skin. It was not so long ago that such a move would have sent a little spurt of earth energy dancing on her fingertips.
Forcing a smile, Ailie continued walking. This whole wizard magic thing really was growing on her. It was fascinating, really. Magic coming out the end of a pointy stick, without having to ask for it, without having to thank the earth for it...
Spring would soon defrost the snow. Everywhere would be touched by the rising of the new year, even the caves up in the hills of her birthplace... Ailie bit the inside of her cheek and changed thoughts. Spring, yes. With summer following close behind. The plants in Professor Sprout's greenhouses would soon be in full bloom, and the children's lessons in plant lore could begin. Yes, so much to do before summer, when the children would be going home for a few months. She might even be offered a permanent place here if she offered enough skill.
Wizarding magic. Wizarding world. It was all too fascinating. Much better than having to ask, having to learn the movements of the earth. And she was so much busier here.
With a determined stride, Ailie made her way back into the castle, heading for the library to find something to be busy with.
***
Snape was contemplating having an afternoon cup of tea before making his way to Hermione's rooms to check on their project, when the object of his thoughts herself burst into his office. Snape raised a leisurely eyebrow at her entrance, but his gesture went unnoticed by the obviously irate girl.
'What in hell do you think you're doing, Snape? Whatever gave you the- the right?'
'I'm not fully certain,' he drawled, half-amused at her outburst, 'as I do not know what you're referring to.'
Hermione shook her head, pacing around the room. 'I can't believe you would-' she began, then something in her expression closed. 'No, of course you would. You practically have to.'
The look she gave him was not the first he had received in anger from her, but it awoke his ire. 'Miss Granger what, exactly, are you referring to?' Snape said, his voice dangerously low.
She shook her head at him, giving a humourless laugh. 'Of course. You've done so many stupid, arrogant things today I suppose you wouldn't know one from the other. Well, let me jog your memory. I believe you know a- scientist-' she spat the word- 'by the name of Lingua d'Avarro? You wrote to him?' Snape merely inclined his head, wondering what his colleague could have to do with her anger. The casual gesture seemed to irritate her further. 'I don't know why I should be so surprised that you would voluntarily associate with such a man.' She shook her head and swallowed, a disgusted look on her face. 'I had the dubious pleasure of receiving his reply this afternoon.'
Snape again raised an eyebrow, this time in surprise. He hadn't mentioned Hermione by name in his current correspondence with the London scientist, and had given no reason for the man to contact her. He caught sight of a parchment in Hermione's hand, and inclined his head toward it, only to have her throw it at his head. Snape felt a flash of anger at the childish action.
'Miss Granger, I will thank you to behave as an adult when you are in my office-'
'Go to hell.' Hermione glared at him, her cheeks high with colour and emotion. 'You told that bastard that I- that we-'
Snape retrieved the parchment and tried to smooth it out. Knowing his colleague, the assertions made in the parchment would not be pleasant.
'Miss Granger, if you are upset at any insinuations Lingua made, I can do no more-'
Hermione glared at him, her eyes flashing with anger. 'I think you've done enough, thank you very much. Do you even know how much danger you've put Ailie in?' She caught his surprised look and laughed derisively. 'After informing your friend of her existence-'
'I did no such thing,' Snape interrupted, glaring at her.
'I don't believe you. It's all there.' Hermione clenched her hands into fists at her sides. 'You have never taken your responsibility for Ailie seriously, but really-'
'I have done nothing but take care of her, ever since she arrived,' Snape spat, aware of the unfairness of the accusation. Hermione carried on, heedlessly.
'-to be endangering Ailie like this, when you've already done so much to her-'
'There was nothing I did to that dratted girl aside from save her impudent life, and gods know I've been paying for it ever since-'
Hermione sneered at him. 'Of course, you have to bring that up, don't you? You think that just because you brought her to safety, it makes up for what you have done?'
Slightly stunned at the strength of her rancour, Snape bit back. 'You stupid little girl. Do you think I'm not fully aware of the consequences-'
Hermione didn't give him a chance to finish his thought. 'It doesn't take much to make the connection. This man could be a Death Eater-'
Snape sneered. 'Miss Granger, I can assure you I am fully aware of the dangers. Do you really think I of all people am unaware of who is a Death Eater and who is not?'
'I used to believe in your judgement, Snape. That is the only way I've been a- a stupid little girl.' Tears were glittering in Hermione's eyes, but her anger still held. 'Mudblood I may be, Snape, but- *whore* I am not. And you are still a murdering Death Eater bastard.' Silence resounded in his office after she had gone and slammed the door.
The parchment she had brought in wasn't so crumpled any more, but Snape smoothed it several times with his fingers before reading it. The words fell on a vacant mind, seeming to make no sense. Things slowly drifted through his head, only the occasional thought bobbing up by itself. There were no telltale water-marks from tears, he saw, and Severus was idly thankful that Hermione was not the dramatic type. The edges of the paper, however, were rather crumpled, as something that had been held in an anxious grip. Eventually, he was able to comprehend enough to actually read the letter.
It began: 'Dear Severus, Well, you've finally got your hands on that little mudblood whore you've always complained about, hey? I must say, there have been some rumours about the little piece of meat, maybe she did get a helping hand here and there as Lucius has always told me...'
It wasn't long before the parchment was in a crumpled ball again.
And I want a TV embrace
And I, I'm getting off your boiling plate
They swore you'd steal my steam to feed your dream
And then be gone
I wish I could say that everyone was wrong -Ben Lee, 'Cigarettes Will Kill You'
Long A/N (skip down the next three paragraphs if you're in a hurry): I got a lot of comments about the cliffhanger of the last chapter- I'm really sorry, I didn't know it was that much of a cliffie, and besides, you wouldn't expect me to resolve it right away, would you? They don't call me a sadist for nothing. So. not much resolution this chapter, sorry. You'll find out soon enough.
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed me. As ff.net doesn't have a hit count unless you pay for it, I don't know that someone's read this unless you review, and it does my little author's heart good. To answer some questions: Angel, thanks for the idea. I'm not really sure what's going to happen at the end, and it's a looooong way off. To everyone else: someone mentioned a worry that because I didn't update for so long, I was going to forget the story. Please, don't worry. I've written 100,000 words of this story now and I'm not going to let it go to waste.
Oh, one thing: while Hermione's actual bathroom is my fantasy, others have done similar things with bathrooms and they deserve acknowledgment. The primary one I can think of is Bill's pool in Jewel of the Nile, but there are countless others. Okay, on with the story.
Chapter Twenty-Three- I wish I could say that everyone was wrong
It was during a cozy chat over tea the following Saturday that McGonagall managed to get Hermione talking about the upcoming ball, and her plans for it. It only took a few subtle hints in the area of her research to suggest to Hermione that the students should experience the solstice the way Ailie experienced it, and the girl's fertile mind pounced on ways to achieve that goal; the most logical of which was to use a potion. A few days later, Hooch suggested to Flitwick that Hermione might, in her usual style, be overloading herself. Sprout slipped in mentions of Hermione's lack of progress with transformio solutions (all of which was pure fiction- Hermione had barely begun her research at that point) when Snape came down to the greenhouses for ingredients. Minerva casually mentioned one evening to Albus the magnitude of the task Hermione had taken on, and the difficulty of a potion such as the transformio, and Albus, sufficiently twinkly, had agreed that it would be a good idea to ask Severus to assist their young organiser.
All in all, it didn't take much arguing from Dumbledore to convince Snape that he should be the one to help Hermione in her work. The old wizard was careful to couch the request in a commanding tone, thereby giving his young colleague the excuse of being ordered to do the job. He chuckled as he climbed the stairs leading out of the dungeons.
'"If Miss Granger finds the task too hard and needs a babysitter," indeed,' he said to himself. The tabby cat sitting at his feet purred in agreement.
Later that evening, Hermione was pondering the reason for the smirk her new dinner companion had displayed at mealtime. She hadn't looked at him during the meal, of course, still being angry for the argument of a few days previous, but her peripheral vision had informed her of the very slight aura of smugness that had been emanating from the usually impenetrable man beside her. It confused her.
Distractedly, she turned her attention back to the woman across the way from her, surprised to see her old transfiguration teacher looking perplexed. She risked a glance at Ailie, seated between them in front of the fire. The other girl was occupied with the dancing flames, no help at all.
'Is something wrong, Minerva?' Hermione asked, concerned. The older witch looked up at her, forcing a smile.
'Well, my dear, now that you ask...' Hermione groaned inwardly. That was never a good beginning to a conversation. However, the witch surprised her by saying next, 'How are your plans for the ball going?'
'Fine,' the younger girl answered, with a slight grimace. 'Though it is turning out to be a bigger task than I thought.'
McGonagall gave her a small smile, and Hermione knew that the other shoe was about to drop.
'Now that you mention it, dear,' the old witch said, with an anxious tone, 'Albus has been hearing reports that you might not be coping well.'
Not one to easily accept criticism, Hermione opened her mouth to voice her indignation when Minerva shook her head. 'I didn't mean that, Hermione. Perhaps it would have been better put to say that some of the staff are worried that you might over-work yourself.'
Slowly, Hermione nodded. It was true that she had felt a little stretched lately. Not that she couldn't cope with a little extra work, she reminded herself, but there was a problem with the transformio...
She was surprised, then, to hear McGonagall continue, 'And, well, Albus thought it might be a good idea if he assigned someone to help you. Someone who might be able to assist on the more difficult tasks you've taken on, such as the transformio potion.'
Hermione looked up at her former teacher, slightly lost. Minerva raised her eyebrows, then said, flatly, 'Professor Snape.'
'*What?*' Hermione gasped. Words were lost on her for a second, then she said, 'Forgive me, Professor McGonagall, but who on earth expects me to work with that man? Not that he'd even agree to it,' she added to herself.
'Albus has already asked him, my dear,' McGonagall replied, with a chuckle at being addressed so formally by her former student. Hermione glared into the fire for a few minutes, before sighing.
'Well, I do need help with the transformio solution, and I suppose that he is the potions master,' she finally muttered. 'But how on earth I'm expected to work with him in that damp old dungeon...'
'He's not such a bad choice, Hermione,' Ailie piped up, startling Hermione and McGonagall both. Both witches stared at the Wiccan girl, and she shrugged. 'Well, he's linked to me, isn't he? That means he has a sort of link with nature too, through me. He's really the best wizard you could have, working on a potion that links people with the rhythm of the earth.'
Hermione looked at McGonagall, and the other woman nodded. 'Yes,' she said, 'that's true. Besides, Hermione, Severus Snape isn't called a master of potions for nothing. He really is the best person on staff to be helping you with such a project.'
Unable to argue with such reasoning, Hermione reconciled herself to the plan, and stared into the fire thinking. She missed the little twinkle shared between her two friends as they watched her.
***
The pairing of Snape and Hermione Granger went off with relatively little fuss. The morning after Hermione was informed that Snape would be helping her, Dumbledore casually mentioned that if both had the evening free, it would be a good idea to start their collaboration straight away, thus neatly removing any chance of either backing out. After a pause, Snape began to suggest- or command- a time for her to meet him in the dungeons, only to have her interrupt him.
'I believe eight o'clock will be a good time,' she said, casually buttering her toast, 'If you would care to meet me in my rooms?'
Snape glared at the young girl, but she merely took a delicate bite of her toast.
'I would think,' he said in his coldest tone, 'that my office would be a more appropriate place.'
Hermione put down her toast with deliberate care and turned to look at him. 'Perhaps. But, as this is my project, I felt that my rooms would be a more comfortable setting. The potion doesn't absolutely require a dark and dampened dungeon as an ingredient, after all.' She gave him a small smile, and, while he was still summoning up a suitably biting reply, left.
Having a fairly free day- she was only due to assist in Flitwick's fifth year charms class before a free afternoon- Hermione decided to set to work and convert her rooms. It had never occurred to her before that, instead of having to wait for permission from Snape whenever she wanted to experiment with her potions work, she could simply create her own lab in her rooms. This thought prompted more musings- when she first moved back to Hogwarts, she had been so grateful to be accepted as a member of staff that she hadn't paid attention to her surroundings. It now occurred to her that she was under no obligation to leave the rooms as they were presented to her, lovely as they were. She smiled to herself as she stood in the middle of her living room, contemplating- as Harry had once said, when they were trying to prevent Ron being killed by a plant, 'You're a witch, Hermione!'
It took a quick trip to the library for Hermione to refresh herself on the spells and incantations she would need, and an afternoon of adjustments before she was reasonably satisfied. In the dimness of twilight, she was pleased with the result of her efforts. Her little sitting room was now extended to include a study chamber, complete with lab table, in a cosy enclave. The rest of the sitting room was decorated in shades of red, cream and gold- mostly because she knew that having to remain in a room with predominantly Gryffindor colours would drive Snape slowly but surely mad, although the colours did have a warming effect on Hermione. The dark red colour of the walls paired with the cream curtains and gold features surrounding her wide windows was surprisingly calming. Hermione briefly considered establishing a large Gryffindor mural on one of the walls, but had decided against it; there was a danger of Snape flatly refusing to work there if she went too far. She had settled for a small Gryffindor shield magically carved into the white marble of the fireplace.
She had taken a leaf out of the great hall's book for her bedroom, and had magically charmed it to show her the night sky. She thought perhaps she might one day charm it to show the day as well, but for the moment the night sky hanging in her bedroom somehow appealed to her. The rest of the room was decorated in blue and gold, with her bed curtains the only bright spot in cream.
The bathroom was where the hard work was put in, and Hermione felt secretly proud of her work there. The incantation to enchant walls and ceilings to reflect the outside world was particularly hard. The incantation to enchant walls and ceilings to reflect the musings of the imagination varied depending on the intricacy of the image. Add movement to that, and the spells became even more intricate and complicated.
Walking in to the glass box that was now her bathroom, Hermione didn't bother to hide a smile of delight. Her bathroom now appeared to be a glass box underwater, with light streaming in from up above. She had settled on tiling the floor in a deep bluey-green, after a few queasy tries at charming the floor to be watery and deep. Visible through the walls was the sandy bottom of the ocean. It was as though her bathroom was sitting just off shore from a desert island.
She leant down and turned on the taps for her bath. Her time as prefect and Head Girl had allowed her access to the stately bathrooms reserved for those positions, but she had never really felt clean after taking a bath in what appeared to be a pool. Her own bath was just slightly bigger than normal size, and set slightly into the floor. Her shower- better for those rushed mornings- was set in a corner, created so that the water would appear to pour from the ceiling. A dressing table, with plush seat, large gilt mirror and wide table space was a splash of gold in another corner of the spacious bathroom.
The water continued to pour as Hermione walked back into her bedroom and out through the sitting room to her new lab. There were quite a few new stores she would need to stock up on, but she knew that she had a few essential oils left over from her student days... Her eyes quickly lit on the small bottles, and it was a matter of minutes to mix up a relaxing concoction for her bath. Quickly, she moved back to the bathroom, pouring some of the mixture in before turning the taps off.
Watching the waves crash overhead, Hermione relaxed into her bath. For the first time she could remember, she was sitting in a room that was completely her own creation. When she had been small, her parents had let her help choose the colours of her room, but it really wasn't the same. This apartment felt like more than a set of rooms now. It felt like home.
A small frown creased Hermione's forehead. There was something missing still. Hmm... Of course. With a smile, Hermione grabbed her wand and whispered, 'audio Satie Gymnopedie five.' The tinkling notes of the classical piano piece filtered through the air, and Hermione settled back, glad that she had absorbed most of her parents music collection into her wand last summer.
The music lulled her into a half-sleep, and it was much, much later that a rather waterlogged Hermione emerged from her bathroom. A glance at the clock told her that she was too late to catch dinner, but she didn't really mind. She was so relaxed after her bath that a meal alone before the fire sounded far more appealing. Some quick organisation with the house elves saw Hermione seated at her table by the window, enjoying a superb beef fillet and a small glass of wine. She could almost feel the clinging folds of her childhood finally falling away from her.
***
Snape felt slightly awkward as he stood before the door to Hermione's chambers. In most cases, staff had an office separate to their private quarters. Hermione, not being a full member of staff, had no proper office to take over, and as far as Snape knew hadn't asked for one. To be visiting Granger in such a personal space went severely against the grain, even though it was for the purposes of work.
Pushing aside his temporary squeamishness, Snape knocked sharply on the door before him, and waited.
It was only a few seconds before Hermione opened the door for him, her eyes sparkling strangely. The waft of her scent the movement sent his way occupied Snape for a short time, and so his reaction to the new decoration of Hermione's rooms was slightly delayed. When he did, however, he was unable to hide a grimace, and noted a momentary merriment spark through his companion's eyes. So the witch did this on purpose, he thought. Interesting.
As soon as he was able, Snape began to voice his concerns about the lack of a lab- accompanied by the usual sneer- when Hermione walked to what used to be the far corner of her sitting room, drawing his attention to an alcove there. It clearly contained all the essentials for any experiments they would need, including, as he found out when he was about to complain, perfectly adequate lighting and ventilation.
The rest of the evening seemed to coast on the bafflement Hermione had established in the beginning. Snape found himself offering information merely to defend himself from another surprise. Gradually, the work took over, and Snape calmly listened as Hermione went over her research. By the time eleven o'clock came around, the two of them had reviewed all of Hermione's- as usual extensive- notes, and all in relative harmony. They agreed to meet for testing as soon as Hermione could acquire the extra ingredients they would need from Hogsmeade.
'Thank you, Professor Snape,' she said as she showed him from the door. Snape carried the picture in his mind of her sitting, still at work, at the table, extending him the courtesy of his title for the first time in weeks, all the way back to the dungeons. It was the first time to memory that he had disliked hearing himself so respectfully addressed.
***
Ailie looked around the magical terrace upon which she sat. As time went by, the strangeness of wizard magic was wearing off on her; she could now sit in this secret little garden, perfectly warm, as magic kept the chill of a last nasty lash by the departed winter away from her.
She smiled at Minerva McGonagall as the other woman poured her another cup of herbal tea.
'You know,' the older witch said, 'it might be a good idea to discuss with Esmerelda a course in plant healing for the students.'
Beside her, his feet out in the sun, Albus Dumbledore absently nodded his head.
'Yes, a very good idea, Minerva. Ailie's knowledge could be very valuable to the students,' he said. Ailie smiled widely.
'Do you really mean it?' she asked, feeling excitement bubble up inside her. 'There is so much in plant lore that young people can use. To be able to teach it again-' She broke off, aware of a tinge of sadness in her tone. She had been in charge of some parts of the education of the younger members of her coven Unwilling to let it affect her, Ailie pushed the feeling aside and concentrated on the proposed task. 'When do you think we could begin?'
Minerva smiled. 'Well, we would need to discuss it with Esmerelda, though I'm certain she wouldn't mind. And, of course, you would need to fit it in with the course structure.' She glanced at Albus, and inclined her head. 'We could perhaps organise a session to begin with, don't you think? Next week?'
'A perfect time,' smiled the headmaster. 'You could perhaps teach the students one of your marvellous brews for tea,' he added, to Ailie. 'It might keep the smuggling of butterbeer down for a time.'
His colleague looked slightly contemplative for a moment. 'If we placed you in Hermione's teaching period, it wouldn't disrupt Esmerelda's schedule too much.'
'I wouldn't want to get in Hermione's way,' Ailie said, concerned. 'She's the one supposed to be teaching, not me.'
'I'm certain Miss Granger will be delighted to fit you into her class schedule,' Dumbledore said, leaning back once more to have a snooze under his hat.
'Besides, Hermione has been rather busy with plans for the ball. It will do her good to have a slight rest,' McGonagall said.
Ailie gave a sly glance at the older woman and took a sip of her tea. 'Yes,' she said after a pause. 'She and Snape have been at it for several nights in a row, you know.'
McGonagall raised her eyebrows, merriment in her eyes. 'Oh, really?' she said with a small grin, before remembering herself. She cleared her throat. 'Well, it is good that their preparations for the ball are moving so swiftly,' she added, trying to keep her expression sober.
'How are Severus and Hermione coping with it all?' Dumbledore's sleepy voice enquired from beneath his hat.
'He's taking a lot of cold showers,' Ailie said unthinkingly. She realised what she had said, and clamped her mouth shut, horrified. Dumbledore often seemed omnipotent, but surely an elderly wizard like him wouldn't have picked up on the plots and plans regarding those two...?
Her answer came with a barely audible chuckle from the direction of the hat. 'Good, good,' the old man said.
Ailie settled back to drink her tea, blushing.
***
Severus Snape was having a shower. Not a cold shower; no, the experience of the last few days had taught him that that old trick did not work. Neither did pacing, stalking the corridors, conducting experiments, and, yes, even banging his head against a wall. So the shower was hot; scaldingly hot. It was his last resort, and, thankfully, it seemed to be working.
Someone out there was out to get him, he knew. This whole- working- with Hermione thing was just too much to take. She seemed to have found a way to frustrate him beyond endurance- and not the type of frustration that the Neville Longbottoms of the world wreaked upon him. If she was nice to him for one more hour, he swore, he would push the books off that damned table and put it to better use.
One fist clenched around the cold water tap and turned it on full, as the image passing through his mind had its effect on his body. Apparently hot water had its limitations. Damn it.
When he had left this evening, Hermione had been bent over a set of estimations, her hair pulled up out of her face in a loose bun, her features lit by the firelight. She had been confident and polite the whole evening, giving him no reason to pick a fight with her. Just like she had been for almost the past week, saying good morning every morning with a half-smile, titling him 'Professor' every time she had to address him by name, in fact giving him every respect that was due to him when she was a student, this time without the badly concealed antipathy. Yet, at the same time, she was obviously not harkening back to feelings of her school days. There was an underlying confidence about her now, an assurance. Something that told him that he could no longer intimidate her like a frightened schoolgirl.
Why did that quality have to be so gods-damned appealing?
Snape had always been attracted to women his own age or even older, mostly because of their capacity to be assured of themselves, and had always preferred intelligent women. A certain type of classic beauty had also attracted his interest. As it stood now, the only quality Hermione Granger was lacking on his list was age, and the need for that requirement was rapidly fading in importance.
If he could only get her to fight with him again, things would return to normal, he knew. If only she would return to her childish resistance, or just regain that element of innocent helplessness that angered him so, everything would be fine.
The thing was, she was still Hermione Granger. She was still abominably Gryffindor, still a know-it-all who spent hours poring over a book for some obscure fact. She just wasn't afraid of him any more.
And it made him want to take that intriguing body of hers and kiss every inch until she promised never to call him 'Professor' again.
It wasn't as though she was purposely trying to drive him mad, though he was sure she would laugh if she knew. If she had been doing it on purpose, he would have had plentiful cause to pick a fight and rid himself of this terrible frustration. As yet, she hadn't given him any reason whatsoever to have even a mild disagreement with her; every time he said something designed to provoke her, she had, with damnable calm, rebutted him, and continued with her work. Which was wreaking havok with his nervous system.
Snape desperately tried to remind himself that he wasn't attracted to this woman. She was an ex-student, she hated him, and she was far too young to capture his interest. It was merely his under-active hormones reacting to the presence of a beautiful young body. Yes, that's the thought Severus, her young body. You're too young to become a dirty old man, old man. These thoughts are just some strange hormonal reaction.
Resolvedly turning the frigid water back to scorching hot, some part of Snape wondered at his capacity for self-denial.
***
In her own rooms, Hermione's capacity for denial was firmly in place. She felt that the project with Snape was going surprisingly well. Considering the difficulties they had had in the past, she had expected more difficulties, but Professor Snape was just as interested in the work as she was, and they had managed to put their differences aside.
She was in no way affected by the silky tones of his voice, drifting through the night as he read a passage from one of the texts to her or suggested a new angle to their experiments. The image of his graceful movements preparing potion ingredients, his long, nimble fingers moving with swiftness and ease, did not remain with her hours after he left at night. If his stare sometimes haunted her dreams, or the night sky hanging over her bed sometimes saw her tossing and turning for hours with frustrated longing, the morning held no memory of it.
And if there was a slight bounce in her step, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that his breathing sometimes came quicker when she was near. It couldn't, because she hadn't noticed it.
With a yawn, she reached for a letter an owl had delivered earlier. It was, hopefully, some information she and Severus had been waiting for. She smiled. She had gone over a lesson plan with Ailie for next week, a move which had given her an extra two hours tomorrow to work on the transformio potion. At this rate, they would be finished weeks before the potion was required, and all without any fuss.
***
It was amazing how the grass managed to fight its way through the cold snow, Ailie thought as she walked around the deserted grounds of Hogwarts. It was so cold, yet the brave little peaks of green fought their way upward through frozen earth. She leant down and brushed her hand over the little tufts, feeling only their brush against her skin. It was not so long ago that such a move would have sent a little spurt of earth energy dancing on her fingertips.
Forcing a smile, Ailie continued walking. This whole wizard magic thing really was growing on her. It was fascinating, really. Magic coming out the end of a pointy stick, without having to ask for it, without having to thank the earth for it...
Spring would soon defrost the snow. Everywhere would be touched by the rising of the new year, even the caves up in the hills of her birthplace... Ailie bit the inside of her cheek and changed thoughts. Spring, yes. With summer following close behind. The plants in Professor Sprout's greenhouses would soon be in full bloom, and the children's lessons in plant lore could begin. Yes, so much to do before summer, when the children would be going home for a few months. She might even be offered a permanent place here if she offered enough skill.
Wizarding magic. Wizarding world. It was all too fascinating. Much better than having to ask, having to learn the movements of the earth. And she was so much busier here.
With a determined stride, Ailie made her way back into the castle, heading for the library to find something to be busy with.
***
Snape was contemplating having an afternoon cup of tea before making his way to Hermione's rooms to check on their project, when the object of his thoughts herself burst into his office. Snape raised a leisurely eyebrow at her entrance, but his gesture went unnoticed by the obviously irate girl.
'What in hell do you think you're doing, Snape? Whatever gave you the- the right?'
'I'm not fully certain,' he drawled, half-amused at her outburst, 'as I do not know what you're referring to.'
Hermione shook her head, pacing around the room. 'I can't believe you would-' she began, then something in her expression closed. 'No, of course you would. You practically have to.'
The look she gave him was not the first he had received in anger from her, but it awoke his ire. 'Miss Granger what, exactly, are you referring to?' Snape said, his voice dangerously low.
She shook her head at him, giving a humourless laugh. 'Of course. You've done so many stupid, arrogant things today I suppose you wouldn't know one from the other. Well, let me jog your memory. I believe you know a- scientist-' she spat the word- 'by the name of Lingua d'Avarro? You wrote to him?' Snape merely inclined his head, wondering what his colleague could have to do with her anger. The casual gesture seemed to irritate her further. 'I don't know why I should be so surprised that you would voluntarily associate with such a man.' She shook her head and swallowed, a disgusted look on her face. 'I had the dubious pleasure of receiving his reply this afternoon.'
Snape again raised an eyebrow, this time in surprise. He hadn't mentioned Hermione by name in his current correspondence with the London scientist, and had given no reason for the man to contact her. He caught sight of a parchment in Hermione's hand, and inclined his head toward it, only to have her throw it at his head. Snape felt a flash of anger at the childish action.
'Miss Granger, I will thank you to behave as an adult when you are in my office-'
'Go to hell.' Hermione glared at him, her cheeks high with colour and emotion. 'You told that bastard that I- that we-'
Snape retrieved the parchment and tried to smooth it out. Knowing his colleague, the assertions made in the parchment would not be pleasant.
'Miss Granger, if you are upset at any insinuations Lingua made, I can do no more-'
Hermione glared at him, her eyes flashing with anger. 'I think you've done enough, thank you very much. Do you even know how much danger you've put Ailie in?' She caught his surprised look and laughed derisively. 'After informing your friend of her existence-'
'I did no such thing,' Snape interrupted, glaring at her.
'I don't believe you. It's all there.' Hermione clenched her hands into fists at her sides. 'You have never taken your responsibility for Ailie seriously, but really-'
'I have done nothing but take care of her, ever since she arrived,' Snape spat, aware of the unfairness of the accusation. Hermione carried on, heedlessly.
'-to be endangering Ailie like this, when you've already done so much to her-'
'There was nothing I did to that dratted girl aside from save her impudent life, and gods know I've been paying for it ever since-'
Hermione sneered at him. 'Of course, you have to bring that up, don't you? You think that just because you brought her to safety, it makes up for what you have done?'
Slightly stunned at the strength of her rancour, Snape bit back. 'You stupid little girl. Do you think I'm not fully aware of the consequences-'
Hermione didn't give him a chance to finish his thought. 'It doesn't take much to make the connection. This man could be a Death Eater-'
Snape sneered. 'Miss Granger, I can assure you I am fully aware of the dangers. Do you really think I of all people am unaware of who is a Death Eater and who is not?'
'I used to believe in your judgement, Snape. That is the only way I've been a- a stupid little girl.' Tears were glittering in Hermione's eyes, but her anger still held. 'Mudblood I may be, Snape, but- *whore* I am not. And you are still a murdering Death Eater bastard.' Silence resounded in his office after she had gone and slammed the door.
The parchment she had brought in wasn't so crumpled any more, but Snape smoothed it several times with his fingers before reading it. The words fell on a vacant mind, seeming to make no sense. Things slowly drifted through his head, only the occasional thought bobbing up by itself. There were no telltale water-marks from tears, he saw, and Severus was idly thankful that Hermione was not the dramatic type. The edges of the paper, however, were rather crumpled, as something that had been held in an anxious grip. Eventually, he was able to comprehend enough to actually read the letter.
It began: 'Dear Severus, Well, you've finally got your hands on that little mudblood whore you've always complained about, hey? I must say, there have been some rumours about the little piece of meat, maybe she did get a helping hand here and there as Lucius has always told me...'
It wasn't long before the parchment was in a crumpled ball again.
And I want a TV embrace
And I, I'm getting off your boiling plate
They swore you'd steal my steam to feed your dream
And then be gone
I wish I could say that everyone was wrong -Ben Lee, 'Cigarettes Will Kill You'