Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling didn't write this story. She owns no rights to any
of the original characters, situations, or concepts. If she wants to steal
them, she'll have to sue me. Same for Warner Bros. So ner. Tit for tat,
J.K. (Any non-original characters, situations and concepts of course
already belong to her.)
A/N: I apologise for not coming through with the promised steam. I just. couldn't do it. I tried, but the word 'manhood' kept popping into my brain.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A week later, Hermione swept into the potions lab after lunch, startling Snape who had been busy with a delicate experiment. He held up a hand to signal she be quiet, and Hermione obediently sat watching as Snape let the liquid come to a boil, then abruptly froze the whole experiment, moving the bottle to the side to be used later. He turned to her and nodded, and Hermione opened her mouth to explain her idea.
And paused. This was going to be quite a tricky situation, as the whole thing had been inspired by the tricks she and Ailie had pulled on Snape, and his retaliation.
It had been a dream that had inspired it. The week before, waking after some dream she couldn't remember, Hermione had got to thinking about the nature of dreams, especially the unusual effects of the dream potion she and Snape had consumed. She had found it strange at the time that the dream-Snape had managed to leave some very real beard marks on the side of her neck, although her embarrassment at the time had prevented her really investigating the subject. Now, however, she wondered at it- there was no other potion, as far as she could recall, that had that particular effect of bringing the mind's imaginings to reality.
If the subject of the dream could only be controlled, the potential for the potion was mind boggling. Hermione knew that it would be near impossible to fine-tune dreams and fit them into a bottle, but she still wanted to explore the possibility.
Which meant bringing the subject up with Snape. Embarrassing, to say the least. However, he was the only other person with experience of the potion's effects- Hermione vaguely recalled Ailie mentioning that Snape had also suffered some physical after-effects from his dream visitor, which meant her experience was not a one-off event.
All she had to do was get up the courage to mention it.
Hermione looked at the ground, plucking at the material of her robe while trying to think of what to say. The last week had been spent in near- harmony with Snape, the two of them holed up each day in the dungeons, working on their joint experiments. It was a way to fill the time, a handy and productive escape for Hermione now that she had no real cause to continue living in the castle. There was little chance Snape would chastise her for bringing up the subject; in fact, they had developed enough of a professional rapport that he might even listen to her suggestion. That reassurance didn't make it any easier, however.
She looked up and saw an expression of slight concern in the potions master's eyes, and took a deep breath. Perhaps the most straightforward way was the best way.
'Pro-professor Snape,' she began, and he nodded slightly, leaning forward. Hermione cleared her throat and began again. 'Er...' A flash of irritation lit his eye, and seeing her time was short, she plunged on. 'I believe it may be possible to create a potion with which physical effects may be produced from dream images.' Snape leant against a desk and waited for more, and Hermione cleared her throat. 'The er- er, potion I believe we could use to achieve this effect is the one that you and I both ingested at the beginning of the year.' She bit her lip, and waited for some form of reply.
'Ah,' Snape said, and Hermione looked up. There appeared to be something like amusement in his eyes, but she felt she must be mistaken. The flicker came again, however, when he said, 'And what brings you to this conclusion?' Hermione saw the challenge in his eyes, and her Gryffindor spirit rose to meet it.
'Because both you and I exhibited physical evidence of injuries received in the dreams caused by that potion,' she said, raising her chin and meeting his gaze steadily. He raised an eyebrow, and nodded.
'I know,' he admitted. 'How do you propose this effect be put to use?'
Grateful that he had listen to her hypothesis so easily, Hermione grabbed her books and laid out her notes on the desk. They spent the next ten minutes going over her ideas.
'Unfortunately,' she concluded with slight embarrassment, 'it will mean that the potion in its altered state will need to be consumed by a stable group of test subjects to judge if it has altered. It would possibly have been better for you and I to experiment alone, but...' she trailed off, not wanting to sound bitter about her imminent departure from the school.
Snape looked up at her, puzzled. 'But what? I heard no mention of you having any plans to travel this summer.'
Hermione looked down. 'I haven't received any invitation to remain at Hogwarts,' she explained. 'I have to make plans on a place to stay until I can find a position, but as soon as I possibly can-'
'Nonsense,' Snape said, turning dismissively back to the notes. 'Miss Granger, loath as I am to admit it, you are a capable teacher, and also a favourite of our deified headmaster. I've yet to see Albus Dumbledore fail in any plan, and he has several spinning at the moment that involve your continued residence in this castle. Besides, Manuel Hardworthy has been heading for the door since mid-semester, and it will take little manoeuvring to see him firmly out of it.'
Hermione stood, open-mouthed at his speech. It had almost sounded as though Snape was in favour of her remaining at Hogwarts, or at least didn't mind excessively the idea she could be staying. Snape looked up, and shot a look at her open mouth.
'Attempting to catch flies, Granger?' Hermione promptly snapped her mouth shut, her mind racing for an appropriate response.
'No,' she said, staring at him evenly. 'It's just that I haven't heard you speak that many words altogether since your first-year speech.' Snape's mouth twitched at the joke, and he looked back to the work.
'I suggest we begin work on this potion as soon as possible,' he said, glancing at her. 'Shall you brew it, or shall I?'
Hermione raised her eyebrow at this. 'I didn't know we used exactly the same recipe,' she said.
Snape stood, moving toward his store cupboard and speaking back to her. 'The potion you consumed was produced from a memorised recipe found in a red-covered book in your rooms, augmented with a simple sleeping draught,' he said, his voice dimming as he moved around the stores cupboard. Hermione went to stand at the door, surprised at the speed with which he reappeared, his arms full of ingredients. 'The book was, I believe,' he said, a quirk of humour in his gaze, 'Tabitha's Sensual Spellbook.' Hermione stared at him.
'How did you-' she began, then paused. 'How did you get into my rooms without my noticing?' she asked, finally.
Snape raised an eyebrow. 'Miss Granger, if you have to ask that, your knowledge of the members of Slytherin house is very meagre indeed.'
Hermione smiled. 'Okay. You did it sneakily.' There was an answering smile in Snape's eyes. 'You... I know, you must have either waited outside my rooms to gain my password as I spoke it, or gained entry when I went in. Either way would have required an invisibility cloak or imperceptibility spell.'
'Correct,' Snape said, giving no sign that he was going to tell her which one it was.
'Well?' Hermione asked with a note of impatience. 'Which was it?'
'Alas, Miss Granger, you do not know me well at all,' Snape said, keeping his eyes on the ingredients he was measuring out. Hermione, unwilling to give in, went to stand in his peripheral vision, hands on her hips.
'Severus,' she said, tilting her head to the side enquiringly. 'What method did you use to get into my rooms?' It had to be one of the two ways she'd listed, but picturing him slipping into her room when she entered it or having him know her password were equally disturbing. 'Hmm?' she asked, leaning down to catch his eye.
He looked at her solidly. 'When we were in the genius bottle you walked behind me at one time and did something which you would not reveal. Quid pro quo.'
Hermione's eyes widened. 'You still remember that?' she asked, amazed. He stared at her, his expression unchanging. 'You'll only tell me how you got into my rooms if I tell you... I can't believe it.'
'After seven years of study, your lack of knowledge of the Slytherin psyche is startling,' Snape said, turning back to the ingredients and picking up several of them. 'As I was the first recipient of this particular potion, I believe it only fair that you take first turn, this time,' he added, as he walked over to the cauldron. Hermione raised her eyebrows but followed obediently to the cauldron.
Their brewing was interrupted by a knock at the door, and both turned to see Professor Sprout watching them from the doorway, a slight smile on her face.
'Albus has instructed me to get you two to a meal, for once,' she said, her smile widening. 'Too much of this, and you'll both go blind.' Hermione blushed at the unmistakable double entendre but hoped from his countenance that Snape didn't get it. She allowed Sprout to lead her from the dungeons, sensing Snape following behind her.
They decided that the sooner they began to experiment the better, and so that evening, as the staff gathered in the staff room for post-prandial drinks and chatter, many saw Snape make an unexpected appearance and hand Miss Granger a vial of some mysterious liquid, which she took with an enigmatical look and drank. As she nodded at him and made her good nights, Dumbledore and McGonagall approached the window where Snape stood looking after her.
'What was that about, Severus?' asked Hooch, who also happened to be standing nearby.
'I'm certain Severus was merely providing Miss Granger with a sleeping draught,' Dumbledore replied for him, eyes twinkling. Hooch seemed satisfied with the answer, and turned back to her previous conversation.
'So what was that really about, Severus?' Minerva asked. Snape merely looked at her intimidatingly, and she shrugged.
Snape turned to Dumbledore. 'How long are you planning on keeping the girl on tenterhooks, Albus?' he asked. Albus inclined his head, obviously after more information, and Snape elaborated. 'Miss Granger told me she expects to be given an eviction notice from you at any moment.' Minerva's eyebrows shot up, and she shared a look with the headmaster. When she opened her mouth to speak, however, Dumbledore laid a hand on her arm.
'I'm afraid we are having difficulty finding a place for Miss Granger at present,' Albus said. 'I had hoped that a position would be clearing for her, but unfortunately...' He spread his hands in a gesture of regret, and Snape snorted.
'You could have Hardworthy out on his ear in a second if you wanted to, Albus,' he sneered. 'The man's an incompetent.'
'And Miss Granger would be a good replacement?' Albus asked, raising his eyebrows. Snape glared at him.
'That would be for you to decide, headmaster,' he said, turning back to the window, missing the knowing smile Minerva sent after him.
Minerva shot Dumbledore a impish look, and as the headmaster peered at her quizically, she nodded in Snape's direction.
'It is such a shame, Albus,' she said, her voice loud enough to carry to the potions master. 'I know Miss Granger was mentioning she had nowhere to stay once she leaves Hogwarts.'
Albus frowned. 'Well, that is no good, Minerva. Hermione should know she would always have a home here if she had nowhere else...' He let the sentence flounder as Minerva strenuously shook her head, glancing in Snape's direction. He frowned deeper, puzzled, but decided to see where his colleague was heading. 'Surely Miss Granger's parents would provide a home for her?'
'They have unfortunately moved into a home too small to accommodate a grown child,' McGonagall said with a smile. 'I believe she is considering various options. I know Hermione received a letter the other day from Sirius, and I believe he would offer her a home while she decided what to do.' Minerva paused and twinkled at Albus for a moment, who raised his eyebrows expressively. 'You know, I do believe Hermione and Sirius get along quite well together,' she added, as the two of them watched the obviously listening potions master stand up a little straighter at the comment. McGonagall's eye held an impish look. 'You know, Albus, I've often wondered if there is something between those two-' She was cut off as Snape abruptly turned, bestowing them with a small nod as he exited the room. Both of his colleagues smiled after him.
The next morning Hermione woke up breathless and dazed. In a few seconds, reality returned, and she flopped back down into bed. Then she turned on her side and hit the pillow beside her vigorously with a small scream.
The potion had definitely worked. Almost exactly as before.
Knowing it would do her little good to remain in bed, Hermione got up and decided it would be an idea to test the rumoured benefits of a cold shower. Around two minutes later, a much colder, much grumpier and not at all less frustrated Hermione threw on some robes and exited her rooms, slamming the door quite satisfactorily behind her and startling a passing ghost.
After apologising to the disapproving Grey Lady, Hermione wandered the halls without purpose. It was about 6 a.m.- too early to begin breakfast. Restless energy ferreted around her body and Hermione decided the best place for her was probably outside; at least climbing a damp grassy hill would wear her out a little.
On her way across the lawn, Hermione met Esmerelda Sprout, who was just returning from a hard night in the greenhouses.
'There's been a frost,' Sprout explained. 'Some of my blathering fogiesprouts needed hot water bottling- they do shrivel up so if they don't get the proper warmth, even in summer.' Hermione nodded sympathetically, and Sprout's eyes strayed to Hermione's neck. She raised an eyebrow.
'Well,' said Sprout, a tinge of laughter in her voice. 'At least someone had some fun last night.' Hermione frowned, and comically tried to look at her neck.
'What?' she asked, extremely puzzled. Sprout laughed.
''Mione, you don't have to play coy with me,' she said with a wink. 'Goodness knows I did enough of that sort of thing at your age. Who was the lucky man, hmm?' When Hermione shook her head in puzzlement, Sprout merely chuckled and continued on her way to the castle.
Once Sprout was out of sight, Hermione turned back, almost running by the time she hit the doors to the castle. She headed straight for the first floor bathrooms, peering in the foggy mirror for some sign of a mark on her neck.
What she found there was not pleasing. There were clearly marks on her neck, little purple bruises that were obviously lovebites from a playful over. They descended below her neckline, and she pulled aside her robe to see that there were one or two more, as well as a few reddish scratches on her shoulder.
Hermione leant her head against the cool mirror and groaned. She knew exactly who the lucky man had been, and could remember with terrible clarity the actions that had resulted in those marks. They were exactly the same actions that had led to her need for a cold shower and a brisk walk this morning, the actions performed by a rather aggressive dream lover that had escalated until she woke up gasping this morning. It was no comfort that this particular outcome was exactly what the two of them had intended on beginning the experiment.
With a sigh, she stood up straight again, and headed for the door. It looked like another day of high-necked collars and concealment charms, though the latter would work little once Professor Sprout told the rest of the faculty that their newest member was walking around with three hickies on her neck. Unfortunately, concealment charms only worked when the person didn't know what they were looking for.
The general crappiness of her day increased tenfold when she almost ran into Snape in the corridor, a happening which was only second to 'running into Snape in my bedroom' on her list of things she wanted to avoid today. As he opened his mouth to speak, she couldn't avoid remembering certain aspects of the dream the night before. Oh, if only the man knew what the phantom of those lips had done to her...
Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione muttered something about needing a headache potion and promised to see him at breakfast in a few moments, spinning on her heel and hurrying down the hallway as fast as she dared. She knew Snape probably thought her a lunatic, but it was a small sacrifice for her sanity.
Once she got to her rooms and put on a high-necked sweater, Hermione felt better. She conjured herself a calming cup of tea, feeling the effect of the rosemary oil she'd rubbed into her temples slowly kick in. With a much calmer mind, she smoothed her skirts and made her way to the great hall for breakfast.
Thankfully, by the time she arrived several of the staff had arrived for their morning refreshment, and she was able to take her usual seat, far away from Snape, without appearing to avoid him. Still, it was a mixed blessing; though she was relieved of having to sit near him, hearing his mesmerising tones discussing their proposed work for the day, smelling his distinctly unique scent and tortured by the sight of his graceful hands buttering toast, her peripheral vision was filled with tantalising glimpses of black across the room and her traitorous mind filled in the details for her.
Breakfast was soon over, however, and Hermione walked with Snape down to the dungeons to discuss the first part of their experiment.
As Hermione took a seat behind one of the desks, Snape leant against his own and stared at her. She was behaving strangely this morning, and seemed oddly distracted, not at all what he would have expected from someone usually so focused when it came to experiments. She avoided his eye as he waited for the results of last night's experiment, and he leant over slightly to catch her eye. Her eyes widened slightly, and she slowly nodded.
'Well, it worked,' she said. Snape's position didn't change. 'It... really worked?' she tried.
Snape shifted slightly. 'What, precisely,' he asked, 'worked?'
Hermione grimaced. 'All of it?'
With a small sigh, Snape walked forward, and motioned for her to rise. This behaviour was not like Hermione at all. 'Were there any physical effects?' he asked, and was surprised to see Hermione blanch slightly.
'Well, Miss Granger? Would you care to actually participate in this experiment, or would you prefer to continue to sit and nod like a vegetative idiot?'
He watched as a slow blush crept over her face, and she nodded. Taking her wand, she magically parted part of the seam on her sweater, revealing a series of marks along her neck and shoulder. As his eyes lit on them, Snape made a movement of concern, reaching forward to look at the marks more closely.
'What did this?' he asked with a frown. 'Were you hurt?'
Hermione shook her head. 'No- no,' she said, and looked down. 'They weren't caused by- by painful means.'
Snape frowned, looking down at her shuttered expression. 'Who did this to you?' he asked, his voice sharp. 'What happened?'
'The marks, they're not-' she began, but Snape walked around behind her to examine the marks more closely, running his fingers along them. She cleared her throat, and Snape noted that her cheeks grew even more red.
'The dream potion worked the same as last time,' she said firmly. '*Exactly* the same as last time.'
Snape frowned for a moment, his eyes still on the bruises on Hermione's neck, when comprehension dawned. 'Oh,' he said, feeling almost inclined to blush himself as his brain registered the familiar shape of the bruises. He had seen them on many students in his time, after all. A thought flickered through his brain. 'Exactly?' he asked, unconsciously running his fingers over her skin and wondering if his phantom self had inflicted them- again. Hermione shivered under him, and he felt a small thrill as he removed his hand.
'Yes,' she said, her cheeks aflame now. She repaired her sweater with her wand and sat up a little straighter. Snape allowed himself a small smirk before he moved away from her.
The two of them began to list the ingredients used in the potion, and discussed possible changes that could alter its effect. The process was made difficult by Hermione's refusal to discuss even remotely the details of her dream or the cause of her injuries; Snape didn't think he'd ever seen an Englishwoman blush so much in one morning. The morning ended with her somewhat breathless suggestion that Snape take the unaltered potion that evening himself to provide him with an untarnished example of its workings, before stating her need for fresh air and practically running from the room.
As the sound of her footsteps down the corridor faded, Snape chuckled inwardly. The morning had been quite fun. Miss Granger's ability to concentrate had apparently relied on the amount of distance between the two of them, something he had discovered roughly halfway through the morning and had taken immense pleasure in manipulating. It was probably unfair of him, but he had rather enjoyed watching the pulse at her neck speed up whenever he sat next to her or leant across to retrieve a parchment or text. Besides, he wasn't used to producing any reaction not driven by fear; it was rather a novelty.
A discreet cough came from the doorway, and Snape looked up and waved the headmaster in.
'That was Miss Granger I passed on the stairs, I take it?' the headmaster asked. 'She was moving rather too quickly for me to see.' Snape nodded, and ignored the old wizard's chuckle.
'You and Miss Granger appear to be working quite amicably at the moment,' Dumbledore continued, walking over and picking up a sheath of their notes. Snape continued to shelve the ingredients they had got out during the course of the morning, overlooking the old man's invasion of his work. The headmaster needed to be informed on their project anyway.
'We may need your help,' Snape said, returning his attention to Dumbledore. 'Hermione has discovered specific properties of a dream potion that will be of immense use to us in the act of war. However, I believe we will need to explore the possibilities of psychic connection in tandem with the potion. I believe you said something about having trained with the Wiccans when we found Ailie?'
Dumbledore nodded. 'Of course, dear boy, of course. Psychic connection is difficult, though the Wiccans exploit the magical properties of their blood. It should be possible to enhance wizard blood to achieve a similar effect.'
Snape nodded. 'Good. If you are free tomorrow, I would appreciate your input.' Dumbledore nodded his acceptance of the proposal, and sat back, watching as the potions master finished putting his stores in order.
Finally, Snape had had enough of the silent stare.
'Do you require something?' he asked, raising an eyebrow at the old wizard, who ruined the effect by chuckling.
'I just wanted to inform you that Manuel Hardworthy has volunteered to take a sabbatical, studying his subject under the guise of a student at a muggle university,' the headmaster said, twinkling. 'Miss Granger will receive her letter of invitation for the position by the end of the day. So you needn't worry needlessly over her welfare.'
Snape glared. 'I wasn't.' The twinkle did not diminish.
'Well, I just thought I would relieve you of your worry,' Dumbledore said, rising and heading for the door, 'as you seemed to be so concerned over Miss Granger's arrangements.'
'Thank you, Albus,' Snape said, glaring him out of the door.
'I do hate to see you worried, Severus,' Dumbledore's voice came floating back. Snape glared at the door so hard that it shut itself out of sheer embarrassment.
The thing about having Albus Dumbledore for a headmaster, Snape reflected as the old wizard's chuckle sounded through the door, was that it would be so very difficult to assassinate him without creating a fuss.
As it was a fine day, and as she was unwillingly wrapped up quite well because of the marks on her neck, Hermione decided to lunch on the lawns. The morning with Snape had been nearly unbearable; having him constantly so near had had her very close to begging him to trail those lovely fingers of his over her skin once more. She had no wish to bump into him during her meal.
The feeling of frustration also led to an unexpected need for female companionship and solace. She felt she had to talk about the situation, or run the risk of bursting into flames the next time she was in the same room as Snape. Hermione had never been in this situation before; at school, she had had a plentiful supply of supportive female ears to spill her boy troubles to, but hadn't the need. Now, she was beginning to understand the reason for Lavender and Parvarti's all-night chats.
Passing Minerva in the hall with her basket of food, Hermione impulsively asked the deputy headmistress to join her for lunch. Minerva seemed pleased by the offer.
'The house elves have packed more than enough food for two here,' she explained, as they made their way outside. The two of them quickly set out the necessities for the picnic and sat down.
McGonagall made the subject easier for her by bringing up the morning's gossip.
'Esmerelda told me she had seen you this morning,' the older witch said, peeling an apple with a handy little dirk. Hermione began to blush, and McGonagall cast a shrewd eye over her.
'Witchhazel is wonderful for marks, my dear,' she said with a kindly smile. 'It generally clears them up in a day or so. Poppy has some in her stores.'
'Uh, that's okay,' Hermione said, looking down. 'There's some in the dungeons store cupboard.' She blushed harder as a delighted smile came over McGonagall's features.
'So it *was* him!' she exclaimed. 'I knew it, but Freya was betting it was-' She stopped as Hermione, startled, shook her head.
'No, that's not it at all!' she said, hasty to correct the misunderstanding. If such a supposition got back to Snape she'd be mortified, regardless of the fact that he undoubtedly had guessed whose dream image had made the marks. 'It wasn't- it was another dream. Snape and I are experimenting with the properties of the dream potion Ailie and I used on him.'
McGonagall's eyebrows raised. 'How on earth-'
'The dream potion causes physical events in the dream to be evidenced physically on the dreamer,' Hermione explained. 'We're trying to manipulate it, but first we needed to study it.'
McGonagall pursed her lips. 'So who did it? In the dream?'
Hermione looked down again, clearing her throat. 'S- Snape.' She kept her face hidden as McGonagall chuckled heartily. 'The problem is,' Hermione continued, 'as we're experimenting I had to- to show him the marks this morning. He wanted to know how I got them- he was worried that the potion had turned rough- and I sort of had to tell him the circumstances. Not exactly everything,' she said, looking up, 'but he may have guessed most of it.'
Minerva gave her a look of concern. 'Are you worried he will embarrass you?' she asked.
'Not at all,' Hermione said. She couldn't picture Snape even so much as openly acknowledging his suspicions of what she had dreamt about. 'He just- it was so difficult sitting there this morning, with him so close. And he had to look at the effects of the dream, and it's so obvious they're- they're-'
'Lovebites,' Minerva said with a gentle smile.
'Yes,' Hermione said with a sigh. 'It's all so embarrassing. It's strange enough to wake up with evidence from a dream lover, but to have the man himself know about it...'
'Yes, I understand, my dear,' said Minerva understandingly. 'But you know, Severus is a very understanding man. Even if he had no inkling that such an outcome was possible, I'm certain he would never hold it against you. In fact, the other witches and I have long wondered if perhaps Severus does not harbour some hopes in your direction?'
Hermione looked down, remembering the night that Ailie left. Certainly, that was some sign that Snape was attracted to her as well. And this morning...
'There is no chance that you plan to do anything about it all, I suppose?' her old teacher asked.
'Not- not really,' Hermione said, blushing again. She wished she only had the confidence to relieve herself of this misery, but the thought of approaching Snape in anything but a professional manner mortified her. She buried her head in her hands and groaned, and Minerva patted her firmly on the back.
'You know, my dear, I've a feeling some very interesting news will be waiting for you when you get back to your rooms. Freya, Poppy and I were planning on giving Esme a small send-off party tomorrow evening, before she heads off to the gods know where in Africa, but it can easily be turned into a celebration as well. If you would like that?' Hermione smiled, and accepted, as the transfiguration teacher stood up. McGonagall offered to help pack up the remains of their picnic, but Hermione declined, saying she would be staying outside a while longer. She packed up slowly, wondering what the thing was that Minerva had hinted at.
As she walked down to the kitchens to return the basket, and then headed up to her rooms, Hermione thought about the events of the morning. If hadn't known better, she would have thought that Snape was deliberately teasing her this morning. Several times, he had sat next to her unnecessarily, and had even brushed her arm once when he reached over to retrieve a book. Once, when she had looked up, there had been an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes.
Hermione frowned, eyes narrowed. So Snape knew of her discomfort, and wasn't above teasing her with it. She knew that particular character trait of his, of course- hadn't he displayed it more than often during her school years? She grimaced at the remembrance of his merciless humiliation of her and Harry over the whole Viktor Krum thing during the Triwizard Tournament. He had done the same about a particular piece of gossip concerning herself, Neville and Malfoy in her seventh year- the gods knew why such a rumour had started, but Malfoy seemed to enjoy it as Snape had verbally reduced poor Neville to jelly. Luckily, by that time Hermione had learnt to not listen when Snape was on the warpath.
No, he wasn't above pulling the same tricks now. He was just operating in a different way. The difference was this time, and she felt she could say this without any false modesty, Hermione was not without means of retaliation.
Wandering up the corridor, deep in thought, she suddenly spied Snape making his way back from lunch. An imp of mischief made her call his name.
'Oh, Snape,' she said, as he turned in her direction and walked over to her. 'I was just wondering if I could borrow some witchhazel from your stores.' She looked away. 'To treat my marks,' she added. Snape raised his eyebrows and nodded, beginning to lead the way to the dungeons. Hermione smiled to herself as they began to head down the stairs.
'I hope you don't mind,' she began as Snape melded with the darkened stairway to the dungeons, 'but I don't keep witchhazel in my stores and the bruises are your fault, after all.' Snape's step faltered slightly before she added, 'As you made me take the dream potion first, of course.' She allowed her smile to widen in the dimness of the stairway, but made sure to sober her expression before he turned to her as they reached the classroom door.
'I don't have a vial,' Hermione explained, touching the edge of her sweater. 'Would you mind...?' She once again magically separated the material that hid the marks on her neck and pulled her hair aside. Her object was merely to disturb him further, fully expecting him to refuse, and so she was startled by the dual sensations of the stingingly cool swipe of witchhazel and the spark of his warm fingers brushing her skin. She turned her head slightly to see Snape's dark head bent close to hers, and he looked up with a challenge in his eyes. Feeling slightly breathless, Hermione looked away until he had finished.
Flustered, Hermione repaired her top and smoothed her hair back into place. 'Thank you,' she said. There was a slight smirk on his face when she looked back at him.
'I have to get back to my rooms,' she said, edging toward the door. 'Minerva said an important letter awaited me there.'
Snape raised a sarcastic eyebrow. 'Yes,' he said, 'I know.' Hermione looked at him in surprise, but he shook his head. 'I wouldn't dream of ruining Albus and Minerva's sub-moronic idea of fun by telling you.' Hermione's eyebrows rose, and she nodded slowly.
'Well,' she said. 'I'll be going then. I'll be brewing your dream potion for this evening in my rooms. Unless you'd like to supervise?' Hermione had been partially teasing, but to her surprise Snape gave a slight shrug and followed her out of the room.
'So,' she said as they strolled down the corridor, searching for a topic of conversation, 'do you have plans for the summer?'
'Albus requires my presence here,' Snape answered with finality. Hermione nodded and frowned to herself- obviously that had been the wrong tactic to use.
'Have you... er, heard from Ailie at all?' she tried again. She had frequently wanted to ask Snape if he had any news of her through their link, but as it was such an invasion of his privacy had never summoned up the courage.
'No,' he answered, his tone somewhat softer. He darted a quick look at Hermione, as if she might take the news badly. 'Her reunion with Wiccan blood may have disturbed our linkage,' he explained, and Hermione nodded. 'In any case, I have not sensed that she has come to any harm. She indicated that I would be able to.'
Hermione gave him a smile, grateful for his uncharacteristic concern. 'It must be a relief to have your head to yourself again,' she said as they reached the door to her rooms.
'In Arcadia Ergo.' The door opened, and they entered. Her eyes immediately lit on two cream-coloured envelopes sitting on the table at the window. She stepped forward to pick them up, noting that the top one was addressed with Dumbledore's familiar green pen.
She opened the other first, which bore her teaching college's crest, and smiled as she read that she had passed her course and would be receiving her certificate. There was a vexing lack of marks to tell her exactly how she had done in her classes, but she pushed the irritation aside as she reached for the Hogwarts letter. A single sheet of paper rested inside, and her mouth dropped open as she read the message written upon it.
'Muggle studies!' she said, looking over at Snape who still stood by the door. 'They want me to teach muggle studies!'
'You can hardly be less qualified than the last wizard to hold that position,' Snape said dryly. Hermione grinned at him.
'Albus and Minerva want me to teach here,' she said, shaking her head. Though it was what she had hoped, she was having trouble believing that Dumbledore was entrusting the position to such an inexperienced teacher. She sank down into a chair. Snape merely raised an eyebrow at her, and she resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at him.
She read the letter again, a slow smile spreading over her face as it sank in. The smile dimmed somewhat when she remembered that Manuel Hardworthy had mentioned no plans of giving up the position. She looked up at Snape, who had obviously been following her expressions.
'What has happened to Manuel Hardworthy?' she asked, knowing she was unlikely to like the answer.
'According to Albus, he has gone on sabbatical,' Snape answered. The sarcasm in his tone gave lie to the statement.
'So... he has been asked to leave,' Hermione said. There was no mention of the position being temporary, as it would have if Hardworthy really was on sabbatical.
'Well done. It must be a record for a Gryffindor to see through such an amazing piece of obfuscation.'
Hermione ignored his habitual narkiness to stare at the letter. She heard Snape step further into the room, and looked up to see him observing her.
'Miss Granger, much as it pains me to speak ill of a former colleague,' Snape said, 'Manuel Hardworthy would barely know a muggle artefact if it jumped up and down in front of him reciting bawdy limericks. He is, I may say, the most incompetent Muggle Studies teacher it has ever been my displeasure to lay eyes upon, and Albus could hardly have avoided finding a superior replacement for him if he had employed a cardboard box and a piece of string. As it stands, he has chosen to employ a marginally more intelligent being, though I may begin to doubt that opinion if you do not cease to gape at me like a fish.'
Hermione closed her mouth and glared at him. She had merely been going to defend Hardworthy, little as he deserved it. She didn't like the idea that someone had been fired to give her a position, and said so. Snape looked dramatically heavenwards.
'Save me from overly moral Gryffindors,' he muttered, and stood. 'Hardworthy was heading for the door regardless of your need for employment. If you should choose to relinquish your chance at a suitable position kindly find a less juvenile way to justify your cowardice at entering the real world, this one almost makes me ill.' He turned toward the door.
Hermione sputtered, jumping to her feet and glaring at him. 'I am not being childish!' she said. 'I never said I was going to refuse the position. I was just pointing out...' Snape raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione realised that he had been playing with her. She sighed.
'Of course I'm going to accept the position,' she said, and smiled at him. 'It means I get to annoy you for at least another year.' Snape gave a slight bow in agreement.
'Well, I had better go and thank Albus and Minerva,' Hermione added excitedly, starting for the door. She was halted by Snape's look.
'It may be an idea to actually accept the offer at some time,' he said, and Hermione blushed.
'Of course.' She went back over to the table and found a pen, signing her name to the statement at the bottom of the letter. When she had finished, the parchment disappeared with a puff of smoke. She looked up at Snape with a satisfied expression.
'Now I will go and find them,' she said. 'Do you mind putting off the potion for a short time?' Snape spread his hands, indicating that he did not mind, and Hermione swept past him out of her rooms, bubbling happiness inside her.
(That's the end of this chapter. The rest is just answers to the reviews, so if you didn't review just scroll down.)
Thanks: SlytherinQueen87- thanks for reviewing- I forgive you for not reviewing before (you're a much better reviewer than I am!)
saber: the word was 'pagan.' Prefixed with 'ancient'.
mikey: thank you for giving in to evil fanfic to read my story. I am truly honoured. Yes, I am (trying to be) a writer, at the moment of crappy romance. Hey, hopefully it's money.
Marston Chicklet, Vanessa, Mercygurl2003 - thanks for the tea info. I just wanted to check. I know it sounds weird to even ask, but when I travelled around France for two weeks I simply couldn't get a decent cup of tea. I felt like Arthur Dent. So I thought it might be worth checking.
PhoenixFeather7- I'm quite glad to be in the three-figure mark for reviews at all, but thanks for the compliment. To answer your query- I realise that it is a bit iffy, but I had it in my mind that as Hermione sees Snape so much as an entire person, and is the sort of woman who would truly forgive him for his past and logically figure out what kinda guy he really is, she simply has erased the mark from her head in regards to him. The reason she realised it wasn't there was the sudden rolling up of sleeves he did that revealed bare white skin, when her mind was rolling along on Death Eaters anyway- sort of like she normally wouldn't think about it, but her logical mind pointed it out. As logic doesn't really have much to do with the unconscious, which erased the mark for her in the first place, she never saw it.
Matraeia- as always, your review was a nice little ego burst. I'm glad you enjoyed the solstice.
HeavenStone- I know you're disappointed with the lack of promised steam. I'm really sorry. I tried, I thought I could do it, but I just can't get a grip on the whole 'his thrusting manhood entered the cave of her desire' thing. Sorry. **begs and scrapes**
RedStrawberry900- I am muy impressed that you reviewed on both chapters. Thank you. Don't worry about the star thing- I really appreciate that you tried to help in the first place. I am well familiar with England as the Land of Tea. It's like heaven (btw- something to freak you out- you know how bacon in the UK looks all red and meaty? Well, in Australia it's sort of pre-cooked. Freaked the hell out of me when I tried to cook bacon in the UK.)
Uberscully- I'm jealous of you seeing G.A. in a play. She's such a good actress.
kiki-0303- yup, they were having the same dream. Basically sex without the oozey bits.
Goddessnmb1- the sadness Dumbledore and Hermione exhibited was because Snape sipped from the cup by himself when it was his turn, indicating that it was himself he most failed to connect with in the group. But that was a bit obscure in the story, and it's kind of a worn out argument, so don't worry. As for the steamy- I apologise (see the message for HeavenStone)
Angel of the North- I haven't read 'I will come to you in your dreams' but I will now. The meld was sort of a one-off thing.
Sarah, maridale3, Katharina, Luthien Requiem (love your name), Lucinda Malfoy, Alexial, Canadian Weirdo, asprcreme- glad you enjoyed it.
A/N: I apologise for not coming through with the promised steam. I just. couldn't do it. I tried, but the word 'manhood' kept popping into my brain.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A week later, Hermione swept into the potions lab after lunch, startling Snape who had been busy with a delicate experiment. He held up a hand to signal she be quiet, and Hermione obediently sat watching as Snape let the liquid come to a boil, then abruptly froze the whole experiment, moving the bottle to the side to be used later. He turned to her and nodded, and Hermione opened her mouth to explain her idea.
And paused. This was going to be quite a tricky situation, as the whole thing had been inspired by the tricks she and Ailie had pulled on Snape, and his retaliation.
It had been a dream that had inspired it. The week before, waking after some dream she couldn't remember, Hermione had got to thinking about the nature of dreams, especially the unusual effects of the dream potion she and Snape had consumed. She had found it strange at the time that the dream-Snape had managed to leave some very real beard marks on the side of her neck, although her embarrassment at the time had prevented her really investigating the subject. Now, however, she wondered at it- there was no other potion, as far as she could recall, that had that particular effect of bringing the mind's imaginings to reality.
If the subject of the dream could only be controlled, the potential for the potion was mind boggling. Hermione knew that it would be near impossible to fine-tune dreams and fit them into a bottle, but she still wanted to explore the possibility.
Which meant bringing the subject up with Snape. Embarrassing, to say the least. However, he was the only other person with experience of the potion's effects- Hermione vaguely recalled Ailie mentioning that Snape had also suffered some physical after-effects from his dream visitor, which meant her experience was not a one-off event.
All she had to do was get up the courage to mention it.
Hermione looked at the ground, plucking at the material of her robe while trying to think of what to say. The last week had been spent in near- harmony with Snape, the two of them holed up each day in the dungeons, working on their joint experiments. It was a way to fill the time, a handy and productive escape for Hermione now that she had no real cause to continue living in the castle. There was little chance Snape would chastise her for bringing up the subject; in fact, they had developed enough of a professional rapport that he might even listen to her suggestion. That reassurance didn't make it any easier, however.
She looked up and saw an expression of slight concern in the potions master's eyes, and took a deep breath. Perhaps the most straightforward way was the best way.
'Pro-professor Snape,' she began, and he nodded slightly, leaning forward. Hermione cleared her throat and began again. 'Er...' A flash of irritation lit his eye, and seeing her time was short, she plunged on. 'I believe it may be possible to create a potion with which physical effects may be produced from dream images.' Snape leant against a desk and waited for more, and Hermione cleared her throat. 'The er- er, potion I believe we could use to achieve this effect is the one that you and I both ingested at the beginning of the year.' She bit her lip, and waited for some form of reply.
'Ah,' Snape said, and Hermione looked up. There appeared to be something like amusement in his eyes, but she felt she must be mistaken. The flicker came again, however, when he said, 'And what brings you to this conclusion?' Hermione saw the challenge in his eyes, and her Gryffindor spirit rose to meet it.
'Because both you and I exhibited physical evidence of injuries received in the dreams caused by that potion,' she said, raising her chin and meeting his gaze steadily. He raised an eyebrow, and nodded.
'I know,' he admitted. 'How do you propose this effect be put to use?'
Grateful that he had listen to her hypothesis so easily, Hermione grabbed her books and laid out her notes on the desk. They spent the next ten minutes going over her ideas.
'Unfortunately,' she concluded with slight embarrassment, 'it will mean that the potion in its altered state will need to be consumed by a stable group of test subjects to judge if it has altered. It would possibly have been better for you and I to experiment alone, but...' she trailed off, not wanting to sound bitter about her imminent departure from the school.
Snape looked up at her, puzzled. 'But what? I heard no mention of you having any plans to travel this summer.'
Hermione looked down. 'I haven't received any invitation to remain at Hogwarts,' she explained. 'I have to make plans on a place to stay until I can find a position, but as soon as I possibly can-'
'Nonsense,' Snape said, turning dismissively back to the notes. 'Miss Granger, loath as I am to admit it, you are a capable teacher, and also a favourite of our deified headmaster. I've yet to see Albus Dumbledore fail in any plan, and he has several spinning at the moment that involve your continued residence in this castle. Besides, Manuel Hardworthy has been heading for the door since mid-semester, and it will take little manoeuvring to see him firmly out of it.'
Hermione stood, open-mouthed at his speech. It had almost sounded as though Snape was in favour of her remaining at Hogwarts, or at least didn't mind excessively the idea she could be staying. Snape looked up, and shot a look at her open mouth.
'Attempting to catch flies, Granger?' Hermione promptly snapped her mouth shut, her mind racing for an appropriate response.
'No,' she said, staring at him evenly. 'It's just that I haven't heard you speak that many words altogether since your first-year speech.' Snape's mouth twitched at the joke, and he looked back to the work.
'I suggest we begin work on this potion as soon as possible,' he said, glancing at her. 'Shall you brew it, or shall I?'
Hermione raised her eyebrow at this. 'I didn't know we used exactly the same recipe,' she said.
Snape stood, moving toward his store cupboard and speaking back to her. 'The potion you consumed was produced from a memorised recipe found in a red-covered book in your rooms, augmented with a simple sleeping draught,' he said, his voice dimming as he moved around the stores cupboard. Hermione went to stand at the door, surprised at the speed with which he reappeared, his arms full of ingredients. 'The book was, I believe,' he said, a quirk of humour in his gaze, 'Tabitha's Sensual Spellbook.' Hermione stared at him.
'How did you-' she began, then paused. 'How did you get into my rooms without my noticing?' she asked, finally.
Snape raised an eyebrow. 'Miss Granger, if you have to ask that, your knowledge of the members of Slytherin house is very meagre indeed.'
Hermione smiled. 'Okay. You did it sneakily.' There was an answering smile in Snape's eyes. 'You... I know, you must have either waited outside my rooms to gain my password as I spoke it, or gained entry when I went in. Either way would have required an invisibility cloak or imperceptibility spell.'
'Correct,' Snape said, giving no sign that he was going to tell her which one it was.
'Well?' Hermione asked with a note of impatience. 'Which was it?'
'Alas, Miss Granger, you do not know me well at all,' Snape said, keeping his eyes on the ingredients he was measuring out. Hermione, unwilling to give in, went to stand in his peripheral vision, hands on her hips.
'Severus,' she said, tilting her head to the side enquiringly. 'What method did you use to get into my rooms?' It had to be one of the two ways she'd listed, but picturing him slipping into her room when she entered it or having him know her password were equally disturbing. 'Hmm?' she asked, leaning down to catch his eye.
He looked at her solidly. 'When we were in the genius bottle you walked behind me at one time and did something which you would not reveal. Quid pro quo.'
Hermione's eyes widened. 'You still remember that?' she asked, amazed. He stared at her, his expression unchanging. 'You'll only tell me how you got into my rooms if I tell you... I can't believe it.'
'After seven years of study, your lack of knowledge of the Slytherin psyche is startling,' Snape said, turning back to the ingredients and picking up several of them. 'As I was the first recipient of this particular potion, I believe it only fair that you take first turn, this time,' he added, as he walked over to the cauldron. Hermione raised her eyebrows but followed obediently to the cauldron.
Their brewing was interrupted by a knock at the door, and both turned to see Professor Sprout watching them from the doorway, a slight smile on her face.
'Albus has instructed me to get you two to a meal, for once,' she said, her smile widening. 'Too much of this, and you'll both go blind.' Hermione blushed at the unmistakable double entendre but hoped from his countenance that Snape didn't get it. She allowed Sprout to lead her from the dungeons, sensing Snape following behind her.
They decided that the sooner they began to experiment the better, and so that evening, as the staff gathered in the staff room for post-prandial drinks and chatter, many saw Snape make an unexpected appearance and hand Miss Granger a vial of some mysterious liquid, which she took with an enigmatical look and drank. As she nodded at him and made her good nights, Dumbledore and McGonagall approached the window where Snape stood looking after her.
'What was that about, Severus?' asked Hooch, who also happened to be standing nearby.
'I'm certain Severus was merely providing Miss Granger with a sleeping draught,' Dumbledore replied for him, eyes twinkling. Hooch seemed satisfied with the answer, and turned back to her previous conversation.
'So what was that really about, Severus?' Minerva asked. Snape merely looked at her intimidatingly, and she shrugged.
Snape turned to Dumbledore. 'How long are you planning on keeping the girl on tenterhooks, Albus?' he asked. Albus inclined his head, obviously after more information, and Snape elaborated. 'Miss Granger told me she expects to be given an eviction notice from you at any moment.' Minerva's eyebrows shot up, and she shared a look with the headmaster. When she opened her mouth to speak, however, Dumbledore laid a hand on her arm.
'I'm afraid we are having difficulty finding a place for Miss Granger at present,' Albus said. 'I had hoped that a position would be clearing for her, but unfortunately...' He spread his hands in a gesture of regret, and Snape snorted.
'You could have Hardworthy out on his ear in a second if you wanted to, Albus,' he sneered. 'The man's an incompetent.'
'And Miss Granger would be a good replacement?' Albus asked, raising his eyebrows. Snape glared at him.
'That would be for you to decide, headmaster,' he said, turning back to the window, missing the knowing smile Minerva sent after him.
Minerva shot Dumbledore a impish look, and as the headmaster peered at her quizically, she nodded in Snape's direction.
'It is such a shame, Albus,' she said, her voice loud enough to carry to the potions master. 'I know Miss Granger was mentioning she had nowhere to stay once she leaves Hogwarts.'
Albus frowned. 'Well, that is no good, Minerva. Hermione should know she would always have a home here if she had nowhere else...' He let the sentence flounder as Minerva strenuously shook her head, glancing in Snape's direction. He frowned deeper, puzzled, but decided to see where his colleague was heading. 'Surely Miss Granger's parents would provide a home for her?'
'They have unfortunately moved into a home too small to accommodate a grown child,' McGonagall said with a smile. 'I believe she is considering various options. I know Hermione received a letter the other day from Sirius, and I believe he would offer her a home while she decided what to do.' Minerva paused and twinkled at Albus for a moment, who raised his eyebrows expressively. 'You know, I do believe Hermione and Sirius get along quite well together,' she added, as the two of them watched the obviously listening potions master stand up a little straighter at the comment. McGonagall's eye held an impish look. 'You know, Albus, I've often wondered if there is something between those two-' She was cut off as Snape abruptly turned, bestowing them with a small nod as he exited the room. Both of his colleagues smiled after him.
The next morning Hermione woke up breathless and dazed. In a few seconds, reality returned, and she flopped back down into bed. Then she turned on her side and hit the pillow beside her vigorously with a small scream.
The potion had definitely worked. Almost exactly as before.
Knowing it would do her little good to remain in bed, Hermione got up and decided it would be an idea to test the rumoured benefits of a cold shower. Around two minutes later, a much colder, much grumpier and not at all less frustrated Hermione threw on some robes and exited her rooms, slamming the door quite satisfactorily behind her and startling a passing ghost.
After apologising to the disapproving Grey Lady, Hermione wandered the halls without purpose. It was about 6 a.m.- too early to begin breakfast. Restless energy ferreted around her body and Hermione decided the best place for her was probably outside; at least climbing a damp grassy hill would wear her out a little.
On her way across the lawn, Hermione met Esmerelda Sprout, who was just returning from a hard night in the greenhouses.
'There's been a frost,' Sprout explained. 'Some of my blathering fogiesprouts needed hot water bottling- they do shrivel up so if they don't get the proper warmth, even in summer.' Hermione nodded sympathetically, and Sprout's eyes strayed to Hermione's neck. She raised an eyebrow.
'Well,' said Sprout, a tinge of laughter in her voice. 'At least someone had some fun last night.' Hermione frowned, and comically tried to look at her neck.
'What?' she asked, extremely puzzled. Sprout laughed.
''Mione, you don't have to play coy with me,' she said with a wink. 'Goodness knows I did enough of that sort of thing at your age. Who was the lucky man, hmm?' When Hermione shook her head in puzzlement, Sprout merely chuckled and continued on her way to the castle.
Once Sprout was out of sight, Hermione turned back, almost running by the time she hit the doors to the castle. She headed straight for the first floor bathrooms, peering in the foggy mirror for some sign of a mark on her neck.
What she found there was not pleasing. There were clearly marks on her neck, little purple bruises that were obviously lovebites from a playful over. They descended below her neckline, and she pulled aside her robe to see that there were one or two more, as well as a few reddish scratches on her shoulder.
Hermione leant her head against the cool mirror and groaned. She knew exactly who the lucky man had been, and could remember with terrible clarity the actions that had resulted in those marks. They were exactly the same actions that had led to her need for a cold shower and a brisk walk this morning, the actions performed by a rather aggressive dream lover that had escalated until she woke up gasping this morning. It was no comfort that this particular outcome was exactly what the two of them had intended on beginning the experiment.
With a sigh, she stood up straight again, and headed for the door. It looked like another day of high-necked collars and concealment charms, though the latter would work little once Professor Sprout told the rest of the faculty that their newest member was walking around with three hickies on her neck. Unfortunately, concealment charms only worked when the person didn't know what they were looking for.
The general crappiness of her day increased tenfold when she almost ran into Snape in the corridor, a happening which was only second to 'running into Snape in my bedroom' on her list of things she wanted to avoid today. As he opened his mouth to speak, she couldn't avoid remembering certain aspects of the dream the night before. Oh, if only the man knew what the phantom of those lips had done to her...
Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione muttered something about needing a headache potion and promised to see him at breakfast in a few moments, spinning on her heel and hurrying down the hallway as fast as she dared. She knew Snape probably thought her a lunatic, but it was a small sacrifice for her sanity.
Once she got to her rooms and put on a high-necked sweater, Hermione felt better. She conjured herself a calming cup of tea, feeling the effect of the rosemary oil she'd rubbed into her temples slowly kick in. With a much calmer mind, she smoothed her skirts and made her way to the great hall for breakfast.
Thankfully, by the time she arrived several of the staff had arrived for their morning refreshment, and she was able to take her usual seat, far away from Snape, without appearing to avoid him. Still, it was a mixed blessing; though she was relieved of having to sit near him, hearing his mesmerising tones discussing their proposed work for the day, smelling his distinctly unique scent and tortured by the sight of his graceful hands buttering toast, her peripheral vision was filled with tantalising glimpses of black across the room and her traitorous mind filled in the details for her.
Breakfast was soon over, however, and Hermione walked with Snape down to the dungeons to discuss the first part of their experiment.
As Hermione took a seat behind one of the desks, Snape leant against his own and stared at her. She was behaving strangely this morning, and seemed oddly distracted, not at all what he would have expected from someone usually so focused when it came to experiments. She avoided his eye as he waited for the results of last night's experiment, and he leant over slightly to catch her eye. Her eyes widened slightly, and she slowly nodded.
'Well, it worked,' she said. Snape's position didn't change. 'It... really worked?' she tried.
Snape shifted slightly. 'What, precisely,' he asked, 'worked?'
Hermione grimaced. 'All of it?'
With a small sigh, Snape walked forward, and motioned for her to rise. This behaviour was not like Hermione at all. 'Were there any physical effects?' he asked, and was surprised to see Hermione blanch slightly.
'Well, Miss Granger? Would you care to actually participate in this experiment, or would you prefer to continue to sit and nod like a vegetative idiot?'
He watched as a slow blush crept over her face, and she nodded. Taking her wand, she magically parted part of the seam on her sweater, revealing a series of marks along her neck and shoulder. As his eyes lit on them, Snape made a movement of concern, reaching forward to look at the marks more closely.
'What did this?' he asked with a frown. 'Were you hurt?'
Hermione shook her head. 'No- no,' she said, and looked down. 'They weren't caused by- by painful means.'
Snape frowned, looking down at her shuttered expression. 'Who did this to you?' he asked, his voice sharp. 'What happened?'
'The marks, they're not-' she began, but Snape walked around behind her to examine the marks more closely, running his fingers along them. She cleared her throat, and Snape noted that her cheeks grew even more red.
'The dream potion worked the same as last time,' she said firmly. '*Exactly* the same as last time.'
Snape frowned for a moment, his eyes still on the bruises on Hermione's neck, when comprehension dawned. 'Oh,' he said, feeling almost inclined to blush himself as his brain registered the familiar shape of the bruises. He had seen them on many students in his time, after all. A thought flickered through his brain. 'Exactly?' he asked, unconsciously running his fingers over her skin and wondering if his phantom self had inflicted them- again. Hermione shivered under him, and he felt a small thrill as he removed his hand.
'Yes,' she said, her cheeks aflame now. She repaired her sweater with her wand and sat up a little straighter. Snape allowed himself a small smirk before he moved away from her.
The two of them began to list the ingredients used in the potion, and discussed possible changes that could alter its effect. The process was made difficult by Hermione's refusal to discuss even remotely the details of her dream or the cause of her injuries; Snape didn't think he'd ever seen an Englishwoman blush so much in one morning. The morning ended with her somewhat breathless suggestion that Snape take the unaltered potion that evening himself to provide him with an untarnished example of its workings, before stating her need for fresh air and practically running from the room.
As the sound of her footsteps down the corridor faded, Snape chuckled inwardly. The morning had been quite fun. Miss Granger's ability to concentrate had apparently relied on the amount of distance between the two of them, something he had discovered roughly halfway through the morning and had taken immense pleasure in manipulating. It was probably unfair of him, but he had rather enjoyed watching the pulse at her neck speed up whenever he sat next to her or leant across to retrieve a parchment or text. Besides, he wasn't used to producing any reaction not driven by fear; it was rather a novelty.
A discreet cough came from the doorway, and Snape looked up and waved the headmaster in.
'That was Miss Granger I passed on the stairs, I take it?' the headmaster asked. 'She was moving rather too quickly for me to see.' Snape nodded, and ignored the old wizard's chuckle.
'You and Miss Granger appear to be working quite amicably at the moment,' Dumbledore continued, walking over and picking up a sheath of their notes. Snape continued to shelve the ingredients they had got out during the course of the morning, overlooking the old man's invasion of his work. The headmaster needed to be informed on their project anyway.
'We may need your help,' Snape said, returning his attention to Dumbledore. 'Hermione has discovered specific properties of a dream potion that will be of immense use to us in the act of war. However, I believe we will need to explore the possibilities of psychic connection in tandem with the potion. I believe you said something about having trained with the Wiccans when we found Ailie?'
Dumbledore nodded. 'Of course, dear boy, of course. Psychic connection is difficult, though the Wiccans exploit the magical properties of their blood. It should be possible to enhance wizard blood to achieve a similar effect.'
Snape nodded. 'Good. If you are free tomorrow, I would appreciate your input.' Dumbledore nodded his acceptance of the proposal, and sat back, watching as the potions master finished putting his stores in order.
Finally, Snape had had enough of the silent stare.
'Do you require something?' he asked, raising an eyebrow at the old wizard, who ruined the effect by chuckling.
'I just wanted to inform you that Manuel Hardworthy has volunteered to take a sabbatical, studying his subject under the guise of a student at a muggle university,' the headmaster said, twinkling. 'Miss Granger will receive her letter of invitation for the position by the end of the day. So you needn't worry needlessly over her welfare.'
Snape glared. 'I wasn't.' The twinkle did not diminish.
'Well, I just thought I would relieve you of your worry,' Dumbledore said, rising and heading for the door, 'as you seemed to be so concerned over Miss Granger's arrangements.'
'Thank you, Albus,' Snape said, glaring him out of the door.
'I do hate to see you worried, Severus,' Dumbledore's voice came floating back. Snape glared at the door so hard that it shut itself out of sheer embarrassment.
The thing about having Albus Dumbledore for a headmaster, Snape reflected as the old wizard's chuckle sounded through the door, was that it would be so very difficult to assassinate him without creating a fuss.
As it was a fine day, and as she was unwillingly wrapped up quite well because of the marks on her neck, Hermione decided to lunch on the lawns. The morning with Snape had been nearly unbearable; having him constantly so near had had her very close to begging him to trail those lovely fingers of his over her skin once more. She had no wish to bump into him during her meal.
The feeling of frustration also led to an unexpected need for female companionship and solace. She felt she had to talk about the situation, or run the risk of bursting into flames the next time she was in the same room as Snape. Hermione had never been in this situation before; at school, she had had a plentiful supply of supportive female ears to spill her boy troubles to, but hadn't the need. Now, she was beginning to understand the reason for Lavender and Parvarti's all-night chats.
Passing Minerva in the hall with her basket of food, Hermione impulsively asked the deputy headmistress to join her for lunch. Minerva seemed pleased by the offer.
'The house elves have packed more than enough food for two here,' she explained, as they made their way outside. The two of them quickly set out the necessities for the picnic and sat down.
McGonagall made the subject easier for her by bringing up the morning's gossip.
'Esmerelda told me she had seen you this morning,' the older witch said, peeling an apple with a handy little dirk. Hermione began to blush, and McGonagall cast a shrewd eye over her.
'Witchhazel is wonderful for marks, my dear,' she said with a kindly smile. 'It generally clears them up in a day or so. Poppy has some in her stores.'
'Uh, that's okay,' Hermione said, looking down. 'There's some in the dungeons store cupboard.' She blushed harder as a delighted smile came over McGonagall's features.
'So it *was* him!' she exclaimed. 'I knew it, but Freya was betting it was-' She stopped as Hermione, startled, shook her head.
'No, that's not it at all!' she said, hasty to correct the misunderstanding. If such a supposition got back to Snape she'd be mortified, regardless of the fact that he undoubtedly had guessed whose dream image had made the marks. 'It wasn't- it was another dream. Snape and I are experimenting with the properties of the dream potion Ailie and I used on him.'
McGonagall's eyebrows raised. 'How on earth-'
'The dream potion causes physical events in the dream to be evidenced physically on the dreamer,' Hermione explained. 'We're trying to manipulate it, but first we needed to study it.'
McGonagall pursed her lips. 'So who did it? In the dream?'
Hermione looked down again, clearing her throat. 'S- Snape.' She kept her face hidden as McGonagall chuckled heartily. 'The problem is,' Hermione continued, 'as we're experimenting I had to- to show him the marks this morning. He wanted to know how I got them- he was worried that the potion had turned rough- and I sort of had to tell him the circumstances. Not exactly everything,' she said, looking up, 'but he may have guessed most of it.'
Minerva gave her a look of concern. 'Are you worried he will embarrass you?' she asked.
'Not at all,' Hermione said. She couldn't picture Snape even so much as openly acknowledging his suspicions of what she had dreamt about. 'He just- it was so difficult sitting there this morning, with him so close. And he had to look at the effects of the dream, and it's so obvious they're- they're-'
'Lovebites,' Minerva said with a gentle smile.
'Yes,' Hermione said with a sigh. 'It's all so embarrassing. It's strange enough to wake up with evidence from a dream lover, but to have the man himself know about it...'
'Yes, I understand, my dear,' said Minerva understandingly. 'But you know, Severus is a very understanding man. Even if he had no inkling that such an outcome was possible, I'm certain he would never hold it against you. In fact, the other witches and I have long wondered if perhaps Severus does not harbour some hopes in your direction?'
Hermione looked down, remembering the night that Ailie left. Certainly, that was some sign that Snape was attracted to her as well. And this morning...
'There is no chance that you plan to do anything about it all, I suppose?' her old teacher asked.
'Not- not really,' Hermione said, blushing again. She wished she only had the confidence to relieve herself of this misery, but the thought of approaching Snape in anything but a professional manner mortified her. She buried her head in her hands and groaned, and Minerva patted her firmly on the back.
'You know, my dear, I've a feeling some very interesting news will be waiting for you when you get back to your rooms. Freya, Poppy and I were planning on giving Esme a small send-off party tomorrow evening, before she heads off to the gods know where in Africa, but it can easily be turned into a celebration as well. If you would like that?' Hermione smiled, and accepted, as the transfiguration teacher stood up. McGonagall offered to help pack up the remains of their picnic, but Hermione declined, saying she would be staying outside a while longer. She packed up slowly, wondering what the thing was that Minerva had hinted at.
As she walked down to the kitchens to return the basket, and then headed up to her rooms, Hermione thought about the events of the morning. If hadn't known better, she would have thought that Snape was deliberately teasing her this morning. Several times, he had sat next to her unnecessarily, and had even brushed her arm once when he reached over to retrieve a book. Once, when she had looked up, there had been an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes.
Hermione frowned, eyes narrowed. So Snape knew of her discomfort, and wasn't above teasing her with it. She knew that particular character trait of his, of course- hadn't he displayed it more than often during her school years? She grimaced at the remembrance of his merciless humiliation of her and Harry over the whole Viktor Krum thing during the Triwizard Tournament. He had done the same about a particular piece of gossip concerning herself, Neville and Malfoy in her seventh year- the gods knew why such a rumour had started, but Malfoy seemed to enjoy it as Snape had verbally reduced poor Neville to jelly. Luckily, by that time Hermione had learnt to not listen when Snape was on the warpath.
No, he wasn't above pulling the same tricks now. He was just operating in a different way. The difference was this time, and she felt she could say this without any false modesty, Hermione was not without means of retaliation.
Wandering up the corridor, deep in thought, she suddenly spied Snape making his way back from lunch. An imp of mischief made her call his name.
'Oh, Snape,' she said, as he turned in her direction and walked over to her. 'I was just wondering if I could borrow some witchhazel from your stores.' She looked away. 'To treat my marks,' she added. Snape raised his eyebrows and nodded, beginning to lead the way to the dungeons. Hermione smiled to herself as they began to head down the stairs.
'I hope you don't mind,' she began as Snape melded with the darkened stairway to the dungeons, 'but I don't keep witchhazel in my stores and the bruises are your fault, after all.' Snape's step faltered slightly before she added, 'As you made me take the dream potion first, of course.' She allowed her smile to widen in the dimness of the stairway, but made sure to sober her expression before he turned to her as they reached the classroom door.
'I don't have a vial,' Hermione explained, touching the edge of her sweater. 'Would you mind...?' She once again magically separated the material that hid the marks on her neck and pulled her hair aside. Her object was merely to disturb him further, fully expecting him to refuse, and so she was startled by the dual sensations of the stingingly cool swipe of witchhazel and the spark of his warm fingers brushing her skin. She turned her head slightly to see Snape's dark head bent close to hers, and he looked up with a challenge in his eyes. Feeling slightly breathless, Hermione looked away until he had finished.
Flustered, Hermione repaired her top and smoothed her hair back into place. 'Thank you,' she said. There was a slight smirk on his face when she looked back at him.
'I have to get back to my rooms,' she said, edging toward the door. 'Minerva said an important letter awaited me there.'
Snape raised a sarcastic eyebrow. 'Yes,' he said, 'I know.' Hermione looked at him in surprise, but he shook his head. 'I wouldn't dream of ruining Albus and Minerva's sub-moronic idea of fun by telling you.' Hermione's eyebrows rose, and she nodded slowly.
'Well,' she said. 'I'll be going then. I'll be brewing your dream potion for this evening in my rooms. Unless you'd like to supervise?' Hermione had been partially teasing, but to her surprise Snape gave a slight shrug and followed her out of the room.
'So,' she said as they strolled down the corridor, searching for a topic of conversation, 'do you have plans for the summer?'
'Albus requires my presence here,' Snape answered with finality. Hermione nodded and frowned to herself- obviously that had been the wrong tactic to use.
'Have you... er, heard from Ailie at all?' she tried again. She had frequently wanted to ask Snape if he had any news of her through their link, but as it was such an invasion of his privacy had never summoned up the courage.
'No,' he answered, his tone somewhat softer. He darted a quick look at Hermione, as if she might take the news badly. 'Her reunion with Wiccan blood may have disturbed our linkage,' he explained, and Hermione nodded. 'In any case, I have not sensed that she has come to any harm. She indicated that I would be able to.'
Hermione gave him a smile, grateful for his uncharacteristic concern. 'It must be a relief to have your head to yourself again,' she said as they reached the door to her rooms.
'In Arcadia Ergo.' The door opened, and they entered. Her eyes immediately lit on two cream-coloured envelopes sitting on the table at the window. She stepped forward to pick them up, noting that the top one was addressed with Dumbledore's familiar green pen.
She opened the other first, which bore her teaching college's crest, and smiled as she read that she had passed her course and would be receiving her certificate. There was a vexing lack of marks to tell her exactly how she had done in her classes, but she pushed the irritation aside as she reached for the Hogwarts letter. A single sheet of paper rested inside, and her mouth dropped open as she read the message written upon it.
'Muggle studies!' she said, looking over at Snape who still stood by the door. 'They want me to teach muggle studies!'
'You can hardly be less qualified than the last wizard to hold that position,' Snape said dryly. Hermione grinned at him.
'Albus and Minerva want me to teach here,' she said, shaking her head. Though it was what she had hoped, she was having trouble believing that Dumbledore was entrusting the position to such an inexperienced teacher. She sank down into a chair. Snape merely raised an eyebrow at her, and she resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at him.
She read the letter again, a slow smile spreading over her face as it sank in. The smile dimmed somewhat when she remembered that Manuel Hardworthy had mentioned no plans of giving up the position. She looked up at Snape, who had obviously been following her expressions.
'What has happened to Manuel Hardworthy?' she asked, knowing she was unlikely to like the answer.
'According to Albus, he has gone on sabbatical,' Snape answered. The sarcasm in his tone gave lie to the statement.
'So... he has been asked to leave,' Hermione said. There was no mention of the position being temporary, as it would have if Hardworthy really was on sabbatical.
'Well done. It must be a record for a Gryffindor to see through such an amazing piece of obfuscation.'
Hermione ignored his habitual narkiness to stare at the letter. She heard Snape step further into the room, and looked up to see him observing her.
'Miss Granger, much as it pains me to speak ill of a former colleague,' Snape said, 'Manuel Hardworthy would barely know a muggle artefact if it jumped up and down in front of him reciting bawdy limericks. He is, I may say, the most incompetent Muggle Studies teacher it has ever been my displeasure to lay eyes upon, and Albus could hardly have avoided finding a superior replacement for him if he had employed a cardboard box and a piece of string. As it stands, he has chosen to employ a marginally more intelligent being, though I may begin to doubt that opinion if you do not cease to gape at me like a fish.'
Hermione closed her mouth and glared at him. She had merely been going to defend Hardworthy, little as he deserved it. She didn't like the idea that someone had been fired to give her a position, and said so. Snape looked dramatically heavenwards.
'Save me from overly moral Gryffindors,' he muttered, and stood. 'Hardworthy was heading for the door regardless of your need for employment. If you should choose to relinquish your chance at a suitable position kindly find a less juvenile way to justify your cowardice at entering the real world, this one almost makes me ill.' He turned toward the door.
Hermione sputtered, jumping to her feet and glaring at him. 'I am not being childish!' she said. 'I never said I was going to refuse the position. I was just pointing out...' Snape raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione realised that he had been playing with her. She sighed.
'Of course I'm going to accept the position,' she said, and smiled at him. 'It means I get to annoy you for at least another year.' Snape gave a slight bow in agreement.
'Well, I had better go and thank Albus and Minerva,' Hermione added excitedly, starting for the door. She was halted by Snape's look.
'It may be an idea to actually accept the offer at some time,' he said, and Hermione blushed.
'Of course.' She went back over to the table and found a pen, signing her name to the statement at the bottom of the letter. When she had finished, the parchment disappeared with a puff of smoke. She looked up at Snape with a satisfied expression.
'Now I will go and find them,' she said. 'Do you mind putting off the potion for a short time?' Snape spread his hands, indicating that he did not mind, and Hermione swept past him out of her rooms, bubbling happiness inside her.
(That's the end of this chapter. The rest is just answers to the reviews, so if you didn't review just scroll down.)
Thanks: SlytherinQueen87- thanks for reviewing- I forgive you for not reviewing before (you're a much better reviewer than I am!)
saber: the word was 'pagan.' Prefixed with 'ancient'.
mikey: thank you for giving in to evil fanfic to read my story. I am truly honoured. Yes, I am (trying to be) a writer, at the moment of crappy romance. Hey, hopefully it's money.
Marston Chicklet, Vanessa, Mercygurl2003 - thanks for the tea info. I just wanted to check. I know it sounds weird to even ask, but when I travelled around France for two weeks I simply couldn't get a decent cup of tea. I felt like Arthur Dent. So I thought it might be worth checking.
PhoenixFeather7- I'm quite glad to be in the three-figure mark for reviews at all, but thanks for the compliment. To answer your query- I realise that it is a bit iffy, but I had it in my mind that as Hermione sees Snape so much as an entire person, and is the sort of woman who would truly forgive him for his past and logically figure out what kinda guy he really is, she simply has erased the mark from her head in regards to him. The reason she realised it wasn't there was the sudden rolling up of sleeves he did that revealed bare white skin, when her mind was rolling along on Death Eaters anyway- sort of like she normally wouldn't think about it, but her logical mind pointed it out. As logic doesn't really have much to do with the unconscious, which erased the mark for her in the first place, she never saw it.
Matraeia- as always, your review was a nice little ego burst. I'm glad you enjoyed the solstice.
HeavenStone- I know you're disappointed with the lack of promised steam. I'm really sorry. I tried, I thought I could do it, but I just can't get a grip on the whole 'his thrusting manhood entered the cave of her desire' thing. Sorry. **begs and scrapes**
RedStrawberry900- I am muy impressed that you reviewed on both chapters. Thank you. Don't worry about the star thing- I really appreciate that you tried to help in the first place. I am well familiar with England as the Land of Tea. It's like heaven (btw- something to freak you out- you know how bacon in the UK looks all red and meaty? Well, in Australia it's sort of pre-cooked. Freaked the hell out of me when I tried to cook bacon in the UK.)
Uberscully- I'm jealous of you seeing G.A. in a play. She's such a good actress.
kiki-0303- yup, they were having the same dream. Basically sex without the oozey bits.
Goddessnmb1- the sadness Dumbledore and Hermione exhibited was because Snape sipped from the cup by himself when it was his turn, indicating that it was himself he most failed to connect with in the group. But that was a bit obscure in the story, and it's kind of a worn out argument, so don't worry. As for the steamy- I apologise (see the message for HeavenStone)
Angel of the North- I haven't read 'I will come to you in your dreams' but I will now. The meld was sort of a one-off thing.
Sarah, maridale3, Katharina, Luthien Requiem (love your name), Lucinda Malfoy, Alexial, Canadian Weirdo, asprcreme- glad you enjoyed it.