Chapter Thirty Seven When we dance angels will run and hide their wings
A/N: I have finally posted. As you can see, I have also posted a great amount. Why, you may ask, did you not just post this colossal heap in bits instead of keeping us waiting and slightly bored while you saved the whole lot up? Weeell, you will probably understand as you read through. All I have to say is this: though you may be frustrated with me, please think of the Snape-and-Hermione relationship as a really big fish on a very thin line. In order to get it to land, I had to pull it in very gently. No, I can't believe I just used a fishing metaphor, either. Read, and thank you for your patience.
PS. For those of you frustrated by the not-yet-getting-togetherness of this story, I threaten you with the suggested ending put forth by my partner:
Then Minerva killed Hermione by turning her intestines into a frog. Filled with self-disgust at what she had just done, Minerva realised that the only way she could cleanse her soul was to kill Snape too; so she did. It was a particularly nasty death, one that I would love to describe in detail because it was very, very slow and very, very painful. I will say no more other than that it involved hedgehogs. "This needs a nice clean ending" thought Minerva, so she killed David Duchovny as well.
The End.
Hermione cracked her eyes open groggily, taking in the unwelcome sight of one Ginny Weasley, outlined by the midday sun peeping in around the curtains, mouth open and snoring slightly. Hermione rolled over, staring up at the ceiling. There was a certain feeling about mornings like this, waking up in a strange room. It was like she wanted to crawl inside herself in these unfamiliar surroundings, to assure herself she was still there, inside.
Slowly, she began checking herself for ill-effects from the night before. Her feet felt mildly uncomfortable, a result of the high-heels she'd worn for about eight hours straight, and she had a few strained muscles, but otherwise she felt quite fine. The strangest thing of all was the fact that she and Ginny had laid out several plans for her to seduce their ex-Potions Master.
A slow smile spread across her face. Now that she had a handle on the situation, she felt more at ease. A slow seduction, she felt, was the best way. Snape was not the sort of person to be startled into something. Her hand itched for a piece of paper upon which to plan.
The small groan from the next bed alerted Hermione to Ginny's imminent wakefulness only a moment before a redheaded pixie face intruded on her vision.
'Hi,' Ginny said chirpily. 'Breakfast?' Hermione nodded with a sigh, grateful that her morning wasn't being intruded on by a painful hangover. Ginny was, she knew, one of those annoying people who never got them; it seemed her training in mediwitching was also turning her into a morning person. Although, considering the time was actually twelve noon, she could be momentarily forgiven of that crime.
Making the joint decision that coffee was first priority on a morning such as this, the two girls shuffled through the lounge room into the sun- filled kitchen. As they stood in the tiny kitchen preparing coffee, Ginny turned to Hermione.
'I was thinking,' she said with a contemplative frown. 'I know you wanted help planning out this seduction thing, but as your friend I think it's my duty to tell you a few things about the more... practical side. I'm guessing you did your best to ignore Lavender and Parvarti as much as you could at school?'
'Correct,' Hermione said, pouring the coffee grounds into the machine. This one was a little different to the muggle ones her parents had had over the years, but the coffee went in basically the same place.
'Well, that's probably a good thing,' Ginny continued. 'Those two wouldn't have known reality if it came and wiped its arse on their dresses. Uh, no offense, but your mum probably didn't tell you much, either...?'
Hermione frowned. 'She told me enough. I know the basics, Gin. If you're worried about me getting pregnant or something-'
Ginny waved her down. 'No, no, it's not that at all. The thing is,' she said, 'I just wanted to make sure you knew a few choice tidbits I would've killed to know when I first started having sex. Not the practical stuff.' Hermione inclined her head for her friend to continue, curious as to what she should want to know. She had researched this project pretty thoroughly, both when she was growing and recently. Besides, it was a little embarrassing to have a girl a year younger, and her best friend's baby sister no less, tell her what to do.
'First, don't expect the first time to be absolutely wonderful, physically,' Ginny warned. 'Your body's not used to it, so don't worry if it puts up a few complaints or if extreme fireworks don't happen. It took me a few times before I really, really enjoyed sex, but it's good if it's someone you like a lot.' Hermione frowned. This sounded roughly like the advice in some of the books she had read. She didn't have time to ponder, however, as Ginny apparently misinterpreted her frown.
'I didn't mean it wouldn't be fun,' she hastened to explain. 'I just wanted to warn you it isn't like in romance novels- you know, the heroine orgasms the first time.' Here, both girls blushed slightly. All this girl talk was new to their usually friendly but not terribly close friendship.
'You should know I don't read romances, Gin,' Hermione teased, breaking the moment of unease.
'Well,' Ginny said, turning to tend to the coffee. 'Another thing is to not be afraid to tell him what you want. You might feel a little shy, and it's easy to let that stop you from having a good time.' Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. Ginny caught her eye and grinned. 'Hey, I just wanted you to know you have someone to talk to, you know, if you need to.' Hermione smiled back, and impulsively gave Ginny a hug.
'Hey, you guys aren't going to get together, are you? Because that would be weird but also kind of cool.' The comment came from the doorway, and both girls turned to see a dishevelled-looking Harry standing in his pyjamas.
'Harry, you have been spending way too much time with Sirius,' Hermione said as she pulled away to pour the coffee.
'Better me than some other people I can think of,' Harry said pointedly. Hermione sent a frown his way as a puzzled expression crept over Ginny's face. She could sense the question before it was asked.
'What do you mean, Har-'
'I don't really think it's my place to say,' Harry interrupted, with a broad grin at Hermione. Ginny's interested gaze moved in her direction also. Mentally, Hermione threw her head into her hands. Harry was in a teasing mood, and that mood rarely went past without something embarrassing happening. She tried sending him a death glare anyway, but it met with a twinkle to rival Dumbledore's. Harry rubbed his knuckles on his shirt and looked at them.
'I mean,' he continued, 'some things are just better explained by the source. Don't you think, *Hermione*?' Hermione shook her head and paid attention to the coffee, but noted the sudden movement Ginny made toward the doorway. She turned when Harry let out a yelp, and saw that Ginny had Harry's ear in a firm grip and was twisting it.
'Now you either tell me what you meant by that comment Harry Potter or you say goodbye to your ear,' Ginny threatened. Harry grinned again in Hermione's direction, then grimaced again.
'You know you really sound like your mother, Gin- ow! Okay, okay. After all, it wasn't my fault I walked in on Hermione and Sirius snog-'
'What?!?' The question came out as an excited screech as Ginny dropped Harry and turned on Hermione. 'You snogged Sirius as well?'
Hermione watched the semantics of the sentence flitter through Harry's mind by the expressions on his face.
'As well as what?' he eventually asked. Ginny looked panicked for a moment, and tried to cover, making Hermione grimace even more. The only way to get someone even more interested in a piece of gossip was to say that it was nothing, which was precisely what Ginny was trying to do. She said the first thing that came to her mind.
'As well as Ron. I snogged Ron when we were at Hogwarts. Ginny was really surprised.'
'No I wasn't,' Ginny said. 'Ron told me about that about three weeks after it happened.'
'Yeah, he told me too,' Harry said with a shrug. 'It's old news, 'Mione. But, really, way to ruin my appetite for breakfast.'
Hermione felt spots of anger rising in her cheeks, and was happy that Ron chose that moment to trundle through the lounge room.
'Ronald Weasley! How many people did you tell?' Striding across the room, she pushed her hapless friend onto the couch and began attacking him with a pillow under the amused gaze of his friend and sister, her ire only half-feigned.
***
It was still sunny as Hermione walked from Hogsmeade down the path to Hogwarts. The talks with Ginny had given her a few good ideas, but most importantly time away from the looming castle had given her well-honed brain a time to rest and cogitate.
Flicking her wand at the abundant grass growing on the side of the trail, Hermione frowned. As far as she could see, her problems lay thus: she wanted to bed Snape, he almost certainly wanted to bed her, and standing in their way was their mutual innate shyness, the absence of physical intimacy in their day-to-day interactive history, and his scruples about he, an ex-Death Eater and spy, bedding a quite-recently-ex-student of his who was relatively innocent and quite a bit younger than he.
Hermione nodded sternly to herself. The first of the issues on the list she considered negligible; it would only take one of them overcoming their shyness for that problem to be got out of the way, and, though she was naturally nervous about the subject, Hermione Granger was no coward. Overcoming inner fears was what Gryffindors were famous for, anyway.
The second problem was a little more hard to tackle, and probably the one that presented the most difficulty when it came down to things. Though Hermione had no doubt the third problem she had defined would have caused some difficulties if she intended to give Snape time to think about it, men were not famed for their thinking capabilities when their blood (she blushed) was engaged elsewhere. No, Snape would hopefully have little time to think- it was something she was avoiding doing herself, when it came to this exercise.
Physical intimacy, physical intimacy. Hermione mulled it over as she stepped over a fallen branch on the path. It would seem strange to Snape if she suddenly began fawning over him, but at the same time she didn't believe she could simply jump on him, as Ginny had suggested. How were these things done with other people, she wondered? Ginny had told her a few tales of her own experience, but those had mostly been achieved with alcohol. If Hermione knew Snape, and she did in some respects, alcohol would have the opposite effect to what she intended. She needed a way to create a congenial atmosphere where, hopefully, one thing would lead to another.
She frowned. Of course, they had had some physical intimacy in the past. So far it included two kisses, or series of kisses, a massage and one bitten ear. Hermione smiled thoughtfully. Considering the occasions in question, she really was slightly mad. The relationship between her and Snape so far would make most women want to turn and run the other way- her most hated teacher, who constantly bullied and belittled her without apology, did his best to make her life hell and occasionally physically attacked her. This sort of situation turned her on. Apparently.
It was interesting finding out all these new things.
Feeling an inexplicable burst of excitement, Hermione raced off down the path.
***
Snape eyed Fawkes surlily. Despite the various life-saving encounters he had had with the bird, he just couldn't bring himself to like it. If Dumbledore had been looking for a more sickeningly friendly and pathetically heroic familiar he couldn't have done better if he'd stolen Skippy the Bush Kangaroo. It was a walking cliche. Really the perfect pet for an old man whose only request of the universe was that it provide him with an adequate supply of interesting socks.
Under his eye, the dratted bird began to preen itself, using its beak to smooth out its magnificent feathers to more advantage. It was in the prime period of its cycle, and looked quite beautiful, drat the thing. After it finished preening, it glanced at its less-than-vivacious companion and began to sing, quite smugly to Snape's ears. He did the only thing he could, and glared at it.
Fawkes intercepted his glare unperturbed, trilled extra loud and turned its back on him.
A clattering came from the room next door and Snape sat up straighter. It wouldn't do his image much good if word got out he was unable to stare even an overgrown pigeon down. Besides, Dumbledore was under the mistaken impression that Snape's feelings toward the bird would be less-than-murderous after the amount of times it had saved his life.
'Here you are, old friend,' the old man said, re-entering the room and placing a tea tray on the desk. Snape accepted a cup, sipping it and wincing at its sweetness. For some reason, sugary tea was supposed to make him feel 'better.' He caught a worried glance from the headmaster and took another sip to please him.
'Two barrels of it,' he said, holding the cup on his knee for its warmth. 'To be distributed in two major water supplies. I wasn't told specifics, but it should be easy enough to guess.' Across the desk, Dumbledore nodded, and Snape continued. 'I managed to contaminate the solution. They believe the potion is especially fragile, and will assume it has been spoiled if mass deaths do not occur. The young and weak will have less resistance to even the contaminated potion, however.'
'Is there a way to nullify the potion completely?' Dumbledore asked, steepling his fingers.
'No. It contains hartshorn. We can only hope to weaken the effects.' Dumbledore nodded slowly. Magical forms of hartshorn were a powerful palpatative device, causing the heart to beat too fast. Snape watched as Dumbledore thought over the effects of such a potion.
'The effects with replicate the bodily symptoms of terror,' Snape confirmed. 'In its most powerful form, the victim will experience a gradual increase in feelings of terror until their heart simply stops. It has the added dramatic effect of making veins burst- victims will look as though they have been beaten. Voldemort is fascinated with dramatic effect these days.'
'I will inform the ministry,' Dumbledore said. 'We may need to get the muggle authorities involved in this, although I doubt the honourable minister will concede that point easily. If I recall correctly, hartshorn is one of the main foods of hinkypinks. Perhaps our answer lies there. Have you any idea how soon the poisoning will take place?'
'Not soon,' Snape said. 'One week, perhaps two. I was asked to show my... students the correct way to store the solution. I am certain they will store it incorrectly- their ambition will lead them to sabotage one another. If they store it for two weeks, the effects will be less. But I doubt they plan to hold off for that long.'
Dumbledore nodded again, and rose. 'Thank you, my friend. I will keep you informed.' Snape inclined his head in thanks and left the room.
***
What to do next? Hermione wondered. She supposed the next move was reconnaissance. She had never considered what it would take to seduce Severus Snape before; it would be worthwhile doing a bit of research into what he reacted to.
In front of her, the giant squid made a leisurely turn in the lake, causing the formerly placid water to ripple and swirl. Apparently satisfied with the result, the squid turned and dove down once more, its tentacles taking a few seconds to disappear under the surface. Hermione smiled at the sudden beating of her heart. Even after nine years' acquaintance with the creature it was still able to frighten her. *And the squid was still pretty scary, too,* she thought, then closed her eyes and groaned. She had obviously spent too much time with Ron over the weekend- she was channelling his horrible sense of humour.
'Come, now, Hermione. It can't be that bad.' A shadow fell over her and Hermione looked up.
'Sirius, you know you should never sneak up on a wizard.'
Sirius plopped down on the grass next to her, grinning. 'Good thing you're a witch, then. Besides, I could have been leading a marching band for all the notice you were taking. Finding the squid fascinating?'
Hermione smiled. 'Just thinking.' Sirius contemplated her, and she looked away, feeling heat come to her cheeks. She had never reacted well to being stared at. 'What?' she asked, finally. He merely smiled, and shook his head.
'How was your weekend with the gang?' he asked, after a moment.
'Great, although I'm not sure Harry and Ron would say the same thing today. They were both going to have a quiet lie down when I left.'
'And Ginny?'
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Haven't you heard of her famous constitution? I think she was going to go out jogging after I left.'
'You know,' Sirius said, throwing a stick into the pond, 'people who don't get hangovers really sicken me.' Hermione laughed.
'Also, I think your Godson has been displaying traits that weren't inherited genetically,' she continued. Sirius gave her a confused look, and she sighed. 'He's been picking things up from you,' she explained. 'Last night he wolf whistled at a woman on the street. Twice.'
'That's my boy,' Sirius grinned. Hermione smiled and shook her head.
'He was such a sweet boy before you got your hands on him,' she teased. 'You know I love you, Sirius, but really-'
'You love me?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. Hitting him on the arm, she continued.
'-*but* one of you in the world is enough.'
'Harry will grow out of it. And he's nothing like me; wolf whistling alone would have been a slow day when I was his age.' He leered. Hermione gave him her best glare, but it didn't work.
They sat back and enjoyed the late afternoon sun for a while.
'So,' Sirius eventually said, still looking at the lake, 'what exactly were you thinking about, here all by yourself?'
'None of your business,' Hermione replied. Sirius nodded sagely.
'You know, a certain potions master has been quite surly this weekend, even more than usual. When Trelawney began to tell everyone about her trip to London on Friday night he was quite brutal, or so I've been told.'
Hermione inwardly groaned. 'You've been talking to Minerva, haven't you.' It was a rhetorical question.
'Oh, you know, just catching up. She told me about a very interesting hallucination she had one night after all you girls had been out drinking.' Hermione frowned at him, puzzled, and he raised his eyebrows. 'A certain member of staff emerging from the rooms of another rather new and, if I may say so, attractive young member of staff? Looking a little bit dishevelled? Hmm?'
This time, Hermione did groan, and put her head into her hands. She'd had no idea that particular event had been witnessed- after all, she had barely remembered it herself.
'That wasn't what it looked like,' she said. 'It was only those kisses. And don't get angry at him- it was me who kissed him, not the other way around. I'd mixed a potion with alcohol and thought it would be amusing to attack him. He got me back to my rooms after I passed out...' Hermione saw Sirius's eyebrows go up during her speech, and gave him a curious look as she finished speaking. 'What?'
Sirius cleared his throat delicately. 'Minerva only saw Snape coming *out* of your rooms. She didn't see anything that occurred before you went into them.' Hermione again felt the heat of a blush creeping up her cheeks, and Sirius began laughing heartily.
'Sirius Black, if you so much as whisper a word of this to anyone-'
Sirius held up a hand. 'I wouldn't dream of besmirching your honour,' he said, adding quietly, 'Of course, if someone bites my ear to get the information out of me...' This set him off again, laughing so hard he fell over sideways on to the grass as Hermione put her head into her hands again.
'There's never a chance of keeping something quiet in this damned castle,' she cursed as her companion's laughter began to calm down.
'I'm sorry Hermione,' Sirius said, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. 'It's just not very often I get to see you this embarrassed. Even when you were all much younger it was always Harry and Ron who were the children- you've always been such a serious little thing.'
Hermione sighed. 'I suppose I'm just not used to this... whole thing,' she said. 'It's so much easier for the others. You know, last night I was watching Ginny, having fun in the crowd. It made me feel old.'
Sirius's expression sobered slightly, and he nodded. 'I remember having this conversation with Remus, in our youth,' he said, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees and looking out onto the pond. 'One day, just before we all graduated from this fine establishment, Remus and I were taking a hike through the forest, and he said something to that effect. I didn't see what he meant until... until after Azkaban. I believe it's called maturity, Hermione. It makes you aware of your responsibilities.' He gave her a sideways glance. 'I think you've always realised it, more than the boys. You think about the world, and since you came here you've had the added worry of what you will probably have to do in your life. I used to see it in Harry, too, though thankfully he's a normal healthy young man and is able to forget reality once in a while. Being stuck here-' he indicated the castle- 'means you can't forget about it. You think too much.'
Hermione tilted her head to the side, watching as a bird settled on the surface of the water. 'How can I not think about it all?' she asked quietly. 'I've never been able to figure out how the others manage to turn it off. How they can just wander around, not interpreting what they do, not analysing what happens. I know that sounds silly,' she said, looking down bashfully.
'Yes, it does,' Sirius said, making her look up, startled. He smiled. 'To someone like me. I had maturity thrust upon me, Hermione, and I fight like blazes against it. My brain doesn't work like yours. I can't imagine thinking the way you do, but then again, I can't imagine the way you do full stop. And I'm not half as smart as you either. Your brain works the way it does because it's yours.' Hermione gave a half-hearted smile at that, and the two watched as the bird continued to flitter over the surface of the lake.
After a moment, the squid surfaced, and ate it.
Sirius stood and offered Hermione his arm.
'You know,' he said as they turned toward the castle for dinner, 'It's not like you're alone in the way you think. I've known others who over-think the way you do.' He looked significantly at the castle, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
'You know, you really aren't the most subtle of men, Sirius.'
'Ah, but who was declaring their undying love for me not half an hour ago, hmm?'
'You really are too much, Sirius.' Hermione shook her head at him as they entered the sanctuary of the castle. 'And I never used the word 'undying.''
***
Later that evening, as the staff gathered in the staff room for after dinner drinks, Hermione suddenly felt Snape's absence. By all accounts he hadn't made an appearance the entire weekend, and after having him on her thoughts for the last forty-eight hours solid she felt a sudden need to see him. Besides, one thing she knew about Snape was that a weekend without appearances in public probably had been spent in work. She didn't want him to get ahead of her in the research. Smiling a goodbye to Sirius, she headed for the dungeons with a light step.
On later reflection, Hermione realised that the single torch burning in the potions room was a sign that Snape desired no company. The door she lightly knocked at was also very firmly closed, something which Snape himself pointed out was not precisely an open invitation to whomever happened by for a visit. Snape's expression as he threw back the door was not exactly encouraging either, especially in the instant he realised she wasn't Dumbledore.
Blithely she walked into the room and began investigating the piles of books sitting on his desk. Snape remained at the door.
'What do you want, Hermione?' The sentence was full of crossed arms and finally warned her of his mood.
'I... was just wondering how you've gone with the research this weekend,' she asked.
Maybe she could have asked a question which would have irritated him less. She wasn't certain. His retort was short, to the point, and could have melted the paint from the walls if there had been any. She made an attempt at turning the conversation back on track.
'Hinkypinks,' she said, looking at the books on the desk. A surprising number of them were on the small magical creatures. She raised her eyebrows and looked over at Snape, who immediately snapped several of the books shut.
'Miss Granger, if you have nothing of substance to ask me, I would remind you that not everything in this universe is your domain and to keep your nose,' he said with a last snap, 'out.' The last word was intended not only for the desired state for her nose, but for her whole person, as he indicated with a glare and a pointing finger.
Hermione wisely exited.
The next morning Snape was not at breakfast. Dumbledore indicated to Hermione with a few murmured words that the potions master had not had the best of possible weekends, from which information she deduced that he had been to another meeting. She still couldn't figure out the sudden lust for knowledge of hinkypinks, but at least it explained his current state of mind.
What inspired her to think she could cheer him out of his mood, she didn't know. She went down to the kitchens and procured a pot of coffee and some dry toast. In calmer times, she was able to decide that presuming that he would in any way appreciate that particular type of pampering was her third mistake since she had returned from her weekend.
***
Sirius reflected that when he had been a student at Hogwarts he had never spent more time in the Headmaster's office than he did these days. He never would have suspected as a boy that the nutty but sometimes frightening headmaster would one day find anything he had to say of any use whatsoever, let alone sit and take notes while he was saying it.
The man in question was not, in fact, personally taking notes of course, but watching as a brightly coloured quill took them for him. As Sirius watched, the old man nodded and the quill blotted itself on a scrap of nearby paper, and lay itself down.
'I believe that will be all for this morning,' Dumbledore said, adding a twinkle for effect over his spectacles. 'Minerva has informed me that if I do not allow you to attend lunch this afternoon there will be serious consequences. It seems she and Poppy were disappointed you hadn't more free time on the weekend.' Sirius shared a smile with the headmaster. Since he had got out of Azkaban and had been visiting Hogwarts frequently, the Head of Gryffindor had been resuming her duties over the former Gryffindor inmate.
The two men were heading down to the entrance hall to meet Minerva and Poppy for lunch when a sudden sound from a corridor near the hall startled them. They rounded the corner to the growing sound of raised voices. Dumbledore caught the eye of Minerva McGonagall, who stepped forward to investigate, Poppy following behind her.
Sirius grinned at hearing a baritone bellow. 'I'd recognise that voice any time. The number of times I've had a stand-up argument with Severus Snape...' He frowned. 'It's not like him to raise his voice these days, though,' he added.
McGonagall and Dumbledore shared an amused look, and Poppy bit back a chuckle.
'You obviously haven't spent much time with him in the last year, then,' she said with a twinkle, and giggled at Minerva. Sirius shot them all a puzzled look, but was unable to enquire as the shouting got louder and the shouters themselves appeared far down the corridor.
'I never told you to mix that bezoar into that potion!' Snape's usually silken tones reverberated down the hallway.
'You know you did! You were just distracted by Malfoy-'
'I AM NEVER DISTRACTED IN CLASS!'
'*By Malfoy* who was preening as usual! You never noticed that I-'
'Your lack of intelligence in-'
A very sharp, very loud slap punctuated Hermione's next point, and efficiently ended the argument. The four watchers looked on as she turned neatly on her heel and exited down a side corridor, and Snape, hand to his face, shook his head and, completely unaware of his audience, headed after her.
The four at the other end of the corridor stood silently for a few moments.
'Well,' said Sirius.
'I doubt you could have summed it up more eloquently, my dear boy,' Poppy murmured, moving toward the great hall.
'"Dear boy,"' Sirius muttered disgustedly, following her. The headmaster remained, staring down the corridor, with the headmistress beside him. McGonagall shook her head.
'The two of them seem to be making no progress whatsoever,' she complained.
'Really?' asked the headmaster.
'I really wish you wouldn't twinkle like that at me, it makes me feel dizzy,' Minerva scolded. 'Besides, they're moving backwards, if anything.'
Albus twinkled harder. 'I'm sure they are, Minerva. By the way, did you note that he went after her?'
Minerva glared at him as he turned around and walked toward the great hall.
'You really are annoyingly smug sometimes, Albus,' she said.
***
Hermione reflected that the situation was all too familiar as she paced furiously in her chambers. Pacing furiously after conversations with Snape was something that, this past weekend, she had envisioned leaving behind her, but alas, no.
With a small scream she stopped in her tracks, turned to the laboratory in her living room and began throwing random ingredients into an inexpensive cauldron. It immediately began to bubble and hiss, and she watched on with satisfaction. This was certainly more satisfying than pacing.
A loud rap sounded at her door, followed by a curt, 'Hermione!' and Hermione's frown increased. Luckily, the cauldron chose that moment to explode, loudly, and she was relieved of the task of having to answer. The extraordinary bang of the explosion was even more satisfying, despite the mess and the apparent alarm it caused to the man outside the door.
It was some minutes before Snape finally desisted knocking, minutes Hermione felt were well spent in pulling faces at the door and assuring her angry wards remained in place. When Snape finally went away, quite a lot of the anger burning in Hermione from the argument had subsisted, and the rest had burnt out in the amusement of having panicked him with the cauldron's explosion.
As she turned and cleaned up the mess made by her cauldron, Hermione reflected with amazement that it had only been a few days before that she had actually contemplated giving her virginity to the man. Looking back on it now, it was the craziest of schemes. The potions master obviously considered her as no more than a pestful ex-student, a hindrance he had the most utter misfortune to be loaded with by the headmaster- he had said as much in the last hour. No, not said, *insinuated*, Hermione reflected, slamming a cloth into the ruined cauldron. The man never said anything outright.
And she had considered sleeping with him. Hah! He probably wouldn't know how to set a woman on fire in anything but the most literal sense. Even then, warmth was an alien thing to him. She didn't know why his breath steamed.
She had actually considered *seducing* the damned misanthropic bastard. Hah again. Better luck trying to seduce the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. (She thought about that for a moment, and grimaced. She had heard some nasty rumours in the school.) She had actually considered teasing him about having kissed her the week before, when she was drunk. Teasing him, as if he had been too gentlemanly to mention it. As if. He probably had forgotten it- no, repressed it: never having had a remotely human moment in his life, his fragile psyche had pushed the unwanted moment into the depths of his subconscious, where he wouldn't have to be disturbed by it. Hermione snarled, and scrubbed harder at a spot on the wall.
A tentative knock sounded at her door, and, grimly, Hermione turned and strode toward it. If he had the balls to knock at her door again, she was damned well going to answer it. She waved away the wards and wrenched the wooden door open, anger gearing her mouth to full speed.
'And next time you have research that includes erotic dreams about me, be bloody well open about it!' she yelled to Snape's general height, and then, seeing empty air, looked down slightly. '--Minerva.'
The transfiguration mistress looked at her with the type of raised- eyebrow surprise only elderly Scottish women can achieve.
'I can promise you I will, dear child. But that was not the purpose of my visit. I heard a commotion in the entranceway before and was wondering if you were all right?'
Hermione vainly fought down a rising blush and nodded. 'Perfectly fine. Thank you, Minerva.'
The headmistress nodded and began to turn away. She turned back for a moment, looking as though she wanted to add something, but changed her mind and, with another nod, turned down the corridor.
Hermione closed the door, leant back against it, and sighed.
***
The resounding silence between the potions and muggle studies teachers that would have been so satisfying to them both was not allowed to continue past dinner. This was because of Dumbledore and an innocent request, which was of a conspicuously handy nature and which was a surprise to no-one.
'Severus, I believe I have come up with a method of applying psychic power to your current experiment,' the headmaster announced after dinner as he popped into the dungeons. 'If you will summon Miss Granger...' he suggested.
'She is no doubt busy with Black,' came the curt reply. Snape continued to look at his work which, unfortunately, was clearly an already- corrected student essay. The headmaster waited politely for Snape to give in and look up, and then raised his eyebrows.
'Oh, I believe Miss Granger would be only too happy to give up any social plans for such important work as this,' he suggested. Snape sighed, dug out a torn piece of parchment, wrote a message on it, folded it, walked laboriously over to the fireplace, threw in a pinch of powder, sighed, and called out 'Granger,' throwing the parchment through the flames. Dumbledore smiled at the performance. He had never seen Put-Upon-But-Devoted-Servant acted so well since he had seen his teenaged nephew asked to clean his room some years before.
Mere minutes passed before Hermione, slightly puffed, appeared in the doorway. She glared at Snape, smiled at the headmaster, and went over to a side-cupboard to retrieve several small cauldrons.
Dumbledore was interested to note, as both his teachers set to work, that Hermione took the time to reply to Snape's abruptly-scribbled message. A well-placed writing spell landed on the corrected student essay and scribbled out her displeasure at being so rudely summoned, most of which Dumbledore was able to read before Snape snatched the paper away. She spelt 'conflagration' correctly, he was pleased to see, and so few young people these days took the trouble to respond properly to written correspondence.
The evening progressed in relative calm, or at least silence.
The next day worked better for Dumbledore's plans. The work of the evening before had progressed so well that his two professors needed his assistance for only the morning of the next day, by which time their mutual passion for their work had overcome, or at least made them temporarily forget, their differences. An excited Snape (well, excited for Snape; he forgot to glower as much as usual) appeared at Dumbledore's door for further advice on concentrating psychic powers, explaining that Miss Granger was currently making up several experimental batches of potion for them to work with.
It was evening the next day before the two had an experimental technique progressed to a sufficient point for a full trial. In order to avoid any complications, the test subject- Hermione, in this case- had to fall asleep unaided by potions, which meant a night-time test. It was for this, and other reasons that the two refused Dumbledore's offer of help, citing also the impossibility of outside help with a potion that was currently attuned to only two subjects.
Dumbledore left them on the evening of that day perfectly assured of his own, if not their, experiment's outcome.
***
Hermione fought through the clouds of sleep, now familiar with the effects of the dream potion. Some part of her scientist's brain prompted her to note every illusion, analyse every feeling, but it made her so tired...
She was in a room, sitting on a chair, with only her nightgown on. The room was dark and filled with shadows. Two great windows, as tall as the room itself, opened into the moonlight, forming the only two spots of light. Great velvet curtains, a deep blood red, billowed from the windows, snapping and waving, but there was no wind.
She sat in the chair for some time, unmoving, watching the curtains snap. The chair faced the far wall, with the windows on her right, and watching the curtains was like watching waves in a Noh play.
Snape stepped into the dream.
The curtain blocked his view of her for a moment, then snapped back, billowing over her once more like the arms of sleep. Snape thought she looked so beautiful there, entranced by the waves of the curtains, obviously unaware of his presence in her dream.
He felt an impulse to touch her, and suddenly found himself standing by her chair, startling both of them. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but let the moment pass. This experiment was about exploring the possibilities of dream, after all. They had to observe and to play.
'Stand up,' he said.
'Stand up.' She heard the command in her head, and looked up with fear at the man standing beside her. Did he really dislike her so much? Fear shivered down her spine, but she did as he commanded. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down. She was trying to be rational, but her senses were clogged by the dream. Snape was standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body.
She took a moment to contemplate him. In her other dreams, her dream- Snape had been about feeling, not about seeing. She had sensed, rather than seen him, as was the way with dreams. In this dream, his presence was as tangible as in reality, and as overwhelming. She tilted her head and contemplated him. It wasn't often that she got to see him this close.
Without knowing how she did it, suddenly her hand rested on his cheek. Her eyes widened. It was slow motion, but so fast that she couldn't see it.
'It's like being underwater,' she said.
Snape saw her fear soften, and felt something unwillingly melt in him. His arms found their way around her and he frowned in surprise. It seemed he didn't need to even think of an action before he did it. Somehow, the action changed from something questionable to something perfectly natural and proper: they were dancing, the feeling of it bringing back formal parties in his youth. Some part of his brain still whispered that he would use any excuse to explain his bad behaviour. He couldn't quite push it away.
Hermione moved uneasily in the strange dance, her fear tangible now. She looked up to see the impassive face of Snape swiftly reveal a flash of anger, startling her. She cringed away as he seemed to transform, hate filling his face. She began to panic.
Snape felt Hermione change, and looked down to see her cringing away from him. Startled, he stepped back, backing away as she began to whimper and struggle. Only then did he notice she was still being held by some dark figure, one that wasn't letting her go. Concerned, he stepped forward to pull the two apart, but the slamming of fear and revulsion coming from the two of them pushed him to the edge of the room. He watched, alarmed, for a few moments before he remembered the escape button he and Dumbledore had developed for him to get out of the dream.
He was hurtled back into reality with a jolt, and blinked slowly as he looked around his office. The clinging folds of the dream swiftly dispersed. Hermione- she would still be in the dream, unaware that it was no longer being controlled. He headed for the door, wondering at the arrogance that had led them to decide the experiment could be conducted from their separate rooms- it had never occurred to either of them that the volatile potion could create a dangerous situation.
The moments taken with racing upstairs to her rooms were filled with scientific self-recrimination. He got to her door and thanked whatever gods might have been watching that the extra wards she had thrown up after their fight the other day had been removed, and only her password was required for access.
He stormed through the living room and into the bedroom, where the figure on the bed made small sounds of protest in her dream. Snapping on the lights with a click of his fingers, Snape strode over to the bed and shook the struggling girl awake.
'Hermione, wake up,' he commanded, but the sound of his voice evidently frightened the girl further. Snape frowned at his own stupidity- she was having a nightmare about him and he came in and commanded she awoke. He shook her again, more gently this time, and made soothing sounds as she woke up, curled up like a small child. He pulled her into his arms as the dream dissipated.
Her fear made its way out in shivers as she clutched at his coat. He refused to think what his dream self had inflicted on her in the time it had taken to wake her; her grip on him was like a vice of fear. He was at a loss. Though he had been around many terrified people before, it had never fallen to him to actually calm them down. A memory flashed of Molly Weasley comforting one of her brood in Dumbledore's office after some foolish escapade, and he tentatively began to stroke her hair. It seemed to work.
They sat in this strange tableau for some time, tensions slowly shifting until Snape became aware that the positions of comforter and comforted had somehow shifted. Without his notice, her arms had ceased their terrified hold and had crept around him as he sat tense and worried over her. How, he thought with some irony, typically Gryffindor. He smoothed hair back from her face as she looked up at him, her expression watchful. He was exquisitely aware of how soft her face felt in his hand, how it tingled to have his arm around her and hers around him, tangled inextricably, it seemed. It was all so uncomplicated.
He leant down and kissed her.
A/N: I have finally posted. As you can see, I have also posted a great amount. Why, you may ask, did you not just post this colossal heap in bits instead of keeping us waiting and slightly bored while you saved the whole lot up? Weeell, you will probably understand as you read through. All I have to say is this: though you may be frustrated with me, please think of the Snape-and-Hermione relationship as a really big fish on a very thin line. In order to get it to land, I had to pull it in very gently. No, I can't believe I just used a fishing metaphor, either. Read, and thank you for your patience.
PS. For those of you frustrated by the not-yet-getting-togetherness of this story, I threaten you with the suggested ending put forth by my partner:
Then Minerva killed Hermione by turning her intestines into a frog. Filled with self-disgust at what she had just done, Minerva realised that the only way she could cleanse her soul was to kill Snape too; so she did. It was a particularly nasty death, one that I would love to describe in detail because it was very, very slow and very, very painful. I will say no more other than that it involved hedgehogs. "This needs a nice clean ending" thought Minerva, so she killed David Duchovny as well.
The End.
Hermione cracked her eyes open groggily, taking in the unwelcome sight of one Ginny Weasley, outlined by the midday sun peeping in around the curtains, mouth open and snoring slightly. Hermione rolled over, staring up at the ceiling. There was a certain feeling about mornings like this, waking up in a strange room. It was like she wanted to crawl inside herself in these unfamiliar surroundings, to assure herself she was still there, inside.
Slowly, she began checking herself for ill-effects from the night before. Her feet felt mildly uncomfortable, a result of the high-heels she'd worn for about eight hours straight, and she had a few strained muscles, but otherwise she felt quite fine. The strangest thing of all was the fact that she and Ginny had laid out several plans for her to seduce their ex-Potions Master.
A slow smile spread across her face. Now that she had a handle on the situation, she felt more at ease. A slow seduction, she felt, was the best way. Snape was not the sort of person to be startled into something. Her hand itched for a piece of paper upon which to plan.
The small groan from the next bed alerted Hermione to Ginny's imminent wakefulness only a moment before a redheaded pixie face intruded on her vision.
'Hi,' Ginny said chirpily. 'Breakfast?' Hermione nodded with a sigh, grateful that her morning wasn't being intruded on by a painful hangover. Ginny was, she knew, one of those annoying people who never got them; it seemed her training in mediwitching was also turning her into a morning person. Although, considering the time was actually twelve noon, she could be momentarily forgiven of that crime.
Making the joint decision that coffee was first priority on a morning such as this, the two girls shuffled through the lounge room into the sun- filled kitchen. As they stood in the tiny kitchen preparing coffee, Ginny turned to Hermione.
'I was thinking,' she said with a contemplative frown. 'I know you wanted help planning out this seduction thing, but as your friend I think it's my duty to tell you a few things about the more... practical side. I'm guessing you did your best to ignore Lavender and Parvarti as much as you could at school?'
'Correct,' Hermione said, pouring the coffee grounds into the machine. This one was a little different to the muggle ones her parents had had over the years, but the coffee went in basically the same place.
'Well, that's probably a good thing,' Ginny continued. 'Those two wouldn't have known reality if it came and wiped its arse on their dresses. Uh, no offense, but your mum probably didn't tell you much, either...?'
Hermione frowned. 'She told me enough. I know the basics, Gin. If you're worried about me getting pregnant or something-'
Ginny waved her down. 'No, no, it's not that at all. The thing is,' she said, 'I just wanted to make sure you knew a few choice tidbits I would've killed to know when I first started having sex. Not the practical stuff.' Hermione inclined her head for her friend to continue, curious as to what she should want to know. She had researched this project pretty thoroughly, both when she was growing and recently. Besides, it was a little embarrassing to have a girl a year younger, and her best friend's baby sister no less, tell her what to do.
'First, don't expect the first time to be absolutely wonderful, physically,' Ginny warned. 'Your body's not used to it, so don't worry if it puts up a few complaints or if extreme fireworks don't happen. It took me a few times before I really, really enjoyed sex, but it's good if it's someone you like a lot.' Hermione frowned. This sounded roughly like the advice in some of the books she had read. She didn't have time to ponder, however, as Ginny apparently misinterpreted her frown.
'I didn't mean it wouldn't be fun,' she hastened to explain. 'I just wanted to warn you it isn't like in romance novels- you know, the heroine orgasms the first time.' Here, both girls blushed slightly. All this girl talk was new to their usually friendly but not terribly close friendship.
'You should know I don't read romances, Gin,' Hermione teased, breaking the moment of unease.
'Well,' Ginny said, turning to tend to the coffee. 'Another thing is to not be afraid to tell him what you want. You might feel a little shy, and it's easy to let that stop you from having a good time.' Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. Ginny caught her eye and grinned. 'Hey, I just wanted you to know you have someone to talk to, you know, if you need to.' Hermione smiled back, and impulsively gave Ginny a hug.
'Hey, you guys aren't going to get together, are you? Because that would be weird but also kind of cool.' The comment came from the doorway, and both girls turned to see a dishevelled-looking Harry standing in his pyjamas.
'Harry, you have been spending way too much time with Sirius,' Hermione said as she pulled away to pour the coffee.
'Better me than some other people I can think of,' Harry said pointedly. Hermione sent a frown his way as a puzzled expression crept over Ginny's face. She could sense the question before it was asked.
'What do you mean, Har-'
'I don't really think it's my place to say,' Harry interrupted, with a broad grin at Hermione. Ginny's interested gaze moved in her direction also. Mentally, Hermione threw her head into her hands. Harry was in a teasing mood, and that mood rarely went past without something embarrassing happening. She tried sending him a death glare anyway, but it met with a twinkle to rival Dumbledore's. Harry rubbed his knuckles on his shirt and looked at them.
'I mean,' he continued, 'some things are just better explained by the source. Don't you think, *Hermione*?' Hermione shook her head and paid attention to the coffee, but noted the sudden movement Ginny made toward the doorway. She turned when Harry let out a yelp, and saw that Ginny had Harry's ear in a firm grip and was twisting it.
'Now you either tell me what you meant by that comment Harry Potter or you say goodbye to your ear,' Ginny threatened. Harry grinned again in Hermione's direction, then grimaced again.
'You know you really sound like your mother, Gin- ow! Okay, okay. After all, it wasn't my fault I walked in on Hermione and Sirius snog-'
'What?!?' The question came out as an excited screech as Ginny dropped Harry and turned on Hermione. 'You snogged Sirius as well?'
Hermione watched the semantics of the sentence flitter through Harry's mind by the expressions on his face.
'As well as what?' he eventually asked. Ginny looked panicked for a moment, and tried to cover, making Hermione grimace even more. The only way to get someone even more interested in a piece of gossip was to say that it was nothing, which was precisely what Ginny was trying to do. She said the first thing that came to her mind.
'As well as Ron. I snogged Ron when we were at Hogwarts. Ginny was really surprised.'
'No I wasn't,' Ginny said. 'Ron told me about that about three weeks after it happened.'
'Yeah, he told me too,' Harry said with a shrug. 'It's old news, 'Mione. But, really, way to ruin my appetite for breakfast.'
Hermione felt spots of anger rising in her cheeks, and was happy that Ron chose that moment to trundle through the lounge room.
'Ronald Weasley! How many people did you tell?' Striding across the room, she pushed her hapless friend onto the couch and began attacking him with a pillow under the amused gaze of his friend and sister, her ire only half-feigned.
***
It was still sunny as Hermione walked from Hogsmeade down the path to Hogwarts. The talks with Ginny had given her a few good ideas, but most importantly time away from the looming castle had given her well-honed brain a time to rest and cogitate.
Flicking her wand at the abundant grass growing on the side of the trail, Hermione frowned. As far as she could see, her problems lay thus: she wanted to bed Snape, he almost certainly wanted to bed her, and standing in their way was their mutual innate shyness, the absence of physical intimacy in their day-to-day interactive history, and his scruples about he, an ex-Death Eater and spy, bedding a quite-recently-ex-student of his who was relatively innocent and quite a bit younger than he.
Hermione nodded sternly to herself. The first of the issues on the list she considered negligible; it would only take one of them overcoming their shyness for that problem to be got out of the way, and, though she was naturally nervous about the subject, Hermione Granger was no coward. Overcoming inner fears was what Gryffindors were famous for, anyway.
The second problem was a little more hard to tackle, and probably the one that presented the most difficulty when it came down to things. Though Hermione had no doubt the third problem she had defined would have caused some difficulties if she intended to give Snape time to think about it, men were not famed for their thinking capabilities when their blood (she blushed) was engaged elsewhere. No, Snape would hopefully have little time to think- it was something she was avoiding doing herself, when it came to this exercise.
Physical intimacy, physical intimacy. Hermione mulled it over as she stepped over a fallen branch on the path. It would seem strange to Snape if she suddenly began fawning over him, but at the same time she didn't believe she could simply jump on him, as Ginny had suggested. How were these things done with other people, she wondered? Ginny had told her a few tales of her own experience, but those had mostly been achieved with alcohol. If Hermione knew Snape, and she did in some respects, alcohol would have the opposite effect to what she intended. She needed a way to create a congenial atmosphere where, hopefully, one thing would lead to another.
She frowned. Of course, they had had some physical intimacy in the past. So far it included two kisses, or series of kisses, a massage and one bitten ear. Hermione smiled thoughtfully. Considering the occasions in question, she really was slightly mad. The relationship between her and Snape so far would make most women want to turn and run the other way- her most hated teacher, who constantly bullied and belittled her without apology, did his best to make her life hell and occasionally physically attacked her. This sort of situation turned her on. Apparently.
It was interesting finding out all these new things.
Feeling an inexplicable burst of excitement, Hermione raced off down the path.
***
Snape eyed Fawkes surlily. Despite the various life-saving encounters he had had with the bird, he just couldn't bring himself to like it. If Dumbledore had been looking for a more sickeningly friendly and pathetically heroic familiar he couldn't have done better if he'd stolen Skippy the Bush Kangaroo. It was a walking cliche. Really the perfect pet for an old man whose only request of the universe was that it provide him with an adequate supply of interesting socks.
Under his eye, the dratted bird began to preen itself, using its beak to smooth out its magnificent feathers to more advantage. It was in the prime period of its cycle, and looked quite beautiful, drat the thing. After it finished preening, it glanced at its less-than-vivacious companion and began to sing, quite smugly to Snape's ears. He did the only thing he could, and glared at it.
Fawkes intercepted his glare unperturbed, trilled extra loud and turned its back on him.
A clattering came from the room next door and Snape sat up straighter. It wouldn't do his image much good if word got out he was unable to stare even an overgrown pigeon down. Besides, Dumbledore was under the mistaken impression that Snape's feelings toward the bird would be less-than-murderous after the amount of times it had saved his life.
'Here you are, old friend,' the old man said, re-entering the room and placing a tea tray on the desk. Snape accepted a cup, sipping it and wincing at its sweetness. For some reason, sugary tea was supposed to make him feel 'better.' He caught a worried glance from the headmaster and took another sip to please him.
'Two barrels of it,' he said, holding the cup on his knee for its warmth. 'To be distributed in two major water supplies. I wasn't told specifics, but it should be easy enough to guess.' Across the desk, Dumbledore nodded, and Snape continued. 'I managed to contaminate the solution. They believe the potion is especially fragile, and will assume it has been spoiled if mass deaths do not occur. The young and weak will have less resistance to even the contaminated potion, however.'
'Is there a way to nullify the potion completely?' Dumbledore asked, steepling his fingers.
'No. It contains hartshorn. We can only hope to weaken the effects.' Dumbledore nodded slowly. Magical forms of hartshorn were a powerful palpatative device, causing the heart to beat too fast. Snape watched as Dumbledore thought over the effects of such a potion.
'The effects with replicate the bodily symptoms of terror,' Snape confirmed. 'In its most powerful form, the victim will experience a gradual increase in feelings of terror until their heart simply stops. It has the added dramatic effect of making veins burst- victims will look as though they have been beaten. Voldemort is fascinated with dramatic effect these days.'
'I will inform the ministry,' Dumbledore said. 'We may need to get the muggle authorities involved in this, although I doubt the honourable minister will concede that point easily. If I recall correctly, hartshorn is one of the main foods of hinkypinks. Perhaps our answer lies there. Have you any idea how soon the poisoning will take place?'
'Not soon,' Snape said. 'One week, perhaps two. I was asked to show my... students the correct way to store the solution. I am certain they will store it incorrectly- their ambition will lead them to sabotage one another. If they store it for two weeks, the effects will be less. But I doubt they plan to hold off for that long.'
Dumbledore nodded again, and rose. 'Thank you, my friend. I will keep you informed.' Snape inclined his head in thanks and left the room.
***
What to do next? Hermione wondered. She supposed the next move was reconnaissance. She had never considered what it would take to seduce Severus Snape before; it would be worthwhile doing a bit of research into what he reacted to.
In front of her, the giant squid made a leisurely turn in the lake, causing the formerly placid water to ripple and swirl. Apparently satisfied with the result, the squid turned and dove down once more, its tentacles taking a few seconds to disappear under the surface. Hermione smiled at the sudden beating of her heart. Even after nine years' acquaintance with the creature it was still able to frighten her. *And the squid was still pretty scary, too,* she thought, then closed her eyes and groaned. She had obviously spent too much time with Ron over the weekend- she was channelling his horrible sense of humour.
'Come, now, Hermione. It can't be that bad.' A shadow fell over her and Hermione looked up.
'Sirius, you know you should never sneak up on a wizard.'
Sirius plopped down on the grass next to her, grinning. 'Good thing you're a witch, then. Besides, I could have been leading a marching band for all the notice you were taking. Finding the squid fascinating?'
Hermione smiled. 'Just thinking.' Sirius contemplated her, and she looked away, feeling heat come to her cheeks. She had never reacted well to being stared at. 'What?' she asked, finally. He merely smiled, and shook his head.
'How was your weekend with the gang?' he asked, after a moment.
'Great, although I'm not sure Harry and Ron would say the same thing today. They were both going to have a quiet lie down when I left.'
'And Ginny?'
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Haven't you heard of her famous constitution? I think she was going to go out jogging after I left.'
'You know,' Sirius said, throwing a stick into the pond, 'people who don't get hangovers really sicken me.' Hermione laughed.
'Also, I think your Godson has been displaying traits that weren't inherited genetically,' she continued. Sirius gave her a confused look, and she sighed. 'He's been picking things up from you,' she explained. 'Last night he wolf whistled at a woman on the street. Twice.'
'That's my boy,' Sirius grinned. Hermione smiled and shook her head.
'He was such a sweet boy before you got your hands on him,' she teased. 'You know I love you, Sirius, but really-'
'You love me?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. Hitting him on the arm, she continued.
'-*but* one of you in the world is enough.'
'Harry will grow out of it. And he's nothing like me; wolf whistling alone would have been a slow day when I was his age.' He leered. Hermione gave him her best glare, but it didn't work.
They sat back and enjoyed the late afternoon sun for a while.
'So,' Sirius eventually said, still looking at the lake, 'what exactly were you thinking about, here all by yourself?'
'None of your business,' Hermione replied. Sirius nodded sagely.
'You know, a certain potions master has been quite surly this weekend, even more than usual. When Trelawney began to tell everyone about her trip to London on Friday night he was quite brutal, or so I've been told.'
Hermione inwardly groaned. 'You've been talking to Minerva, haven't you.' It was a rhetorical question.
'Oh, you know, just catching up. She told me about a very interesting hallucination she had one night after all you girls had been out drinking.' Hermione frowned at him, puzzled, and he raised his eyebrows. 'A certain member of staff emerging from the rooms of another rather new and, if I may say so, attractive young member of staff? Looking a little bit dishevelled? Hmm?'
This time, Hermione did groan, and put her head into her hands. She'd had no idea that particular event had been witnessed- after all, she had barely remembered it herself.
'That wasn't what it looked like,' she said. 'It was only those kisses. And don't get angry at him- it was me who kissed him, not the other way around. I'd mixed a potion with alcohol and thought it would be amusing to attack him. He got me back to my rooms after I passed out...' Hermione saw Sirius's eyebrows go up during her speech, and gave him a curious look as she finished speaking. 'What?'
Sirius cleared his throat delicately. 'Minerva only saw Snape coming *out* of your rooms. She didn't see anything that occurred before you went into them.' Hermione again felt the heat of a blush creeping up her cheeks, and Sirius began laughing heartily.
'Sirius Black, if you so much as whisper a word of this to anyone-'
Sirius held up a hand. 'I wouldn't dream of besmirching your honour,' he said, adding quietly, 'Of course, if someone bites my ear to get the information out of me...' This set him off again, laughing so hard he fell over sideways on to the grass as Hermione put her head into her hands again.
'There's never a chance of keeping something quiet in this damned castle,' she cursed as her companion's laughter began to calm down.
'I'm sorry Hermione,' Sirius said, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. 'It's just not very often I get to see you this embarrassed. Even when you were all much younger it was always Harry and Ron who were the children- you've always been such a serious little thing.'
Hermione sighed. 'I suppose I'm just not used to this... whole thing,' she said. 'It's so much easier for the others. You know, last night I was watching Ginny, having fun in the crowd. It made me feel old.'
Sirius's expression sobered slightly, and he nodded. 'I remember having this conversation with Remus, in our youth,' he said, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees and looking out onto the pond. 'One day, just before we all graduated from this fine establishment, Remus and I were taking a hike through the forest, and he said something to that effect. I didn't see what he meant until... until after Azkaban. I believe it's called maturity, Hermione. It makes you aware of your responsibilities.' He gave her a sideways glance. 'I think you've always realised it, more than the boys. You think about the world, and since you came here you've had the added worry of what you will probably have to do in your life. I used to see it in Harry, too, though thankfully he's a normal healthy young man and is able to forget reality once in a while. Being stuck here-' he indicated the castle- 'means you can't forget about it. You think too much.'
Hermione tilted her head to the side, watching as a bird settled on the surface of the water. 'How can I not think about it all?' she asked quietly. 'I've never been able to figure out how the others manage to turn it off. How they can just wander around, not interpreting what they do, not analysing what happens. I know that sounds silly,' she said, looking down bashfully.
'Yes, it does,' Sirius said, making her look up, startled. He smiled. 'To someone like me. I had maturity thrust upon me, Hermione, and I fight like blazes against it. My brain doesn't work like yours. I can't imagine thinking the way you do, but then again, I can't imagine the way you do full stop. And I'm not half as smart as you either. Your brain works the way it does because it's yours.' Hermione gave a half-hearted smile at that, and the two watched as the bird continued to flitter over the surface of the lake.
After a moment, the squid surfaced, and ate it.
Sirius stood and offered Hermione his arm.
'You know,' he said as they turned toward the castle for dinner, 'It's not like you're alone in the way you think. I've known others who over-think the way you do.' He looked significantly at the castle, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
'You know, you really aren't the most subtle of men, Sirius.'
'Ah, but who was declaring their undying love for me not half an hour ago, hmm?'
'You really are too much, Sirius.' Hermione shook her head at him as they entered the sanctuary of the castle. 'And I never used the word 'undying.''
***
Later that evening, as the staff gathered in the staff room for after dinner drinks, Hermione suddenly felt Snape's absence. By all accounts he hadn't made an appearance the entire weekend, and after having him on her thoughts for the last forty-eight hours solid she felt a sudden need to see him. Besides, one thing she knew about Snape was that a weekend without appearances in public probably had been spent in work. She didn't want him to get ahead of her in the research. Smiling a goodbye to Sirius, she headed for the dungeons with a light step.
On later reflection, Hermione realised that the single torch burning in the potions room was a sign that Snape desired no company. The door she lightly knocked at was also very firmly closed, something which Snape himself pointed out was not precisely an open invitation to whomever happened by for a visit. Snape's expression as he threw back the door was not exactly encouraging either, especially in the instant he realised she wasn't Dumbledore.
Blithely she walked into the room and began investigating the piles of books sitting on his desk. Snape remained at the door.
'What do you want, Hermione?' The sentence was full of crossed arms and finally warned her of his mood.
'I... was just wondering how you've gone with the research this weekend,' she asked.
Maybe she could have asked a question which would have irritated him less. She wasn't certain. His retort was short, to the point, and could have melted the paint from the walls if there had been any. She made an attempt at turning the conversation back on track.
'Hinkypinks,' she said, looking at the books on the desk. A surprising number of them were on the small magical creatures. She raised her eyebrows and looked over at Snape, who immediately snapped several of the books shut.
'Miss Granger, if you have nothing of substance to ask me, I would remind you that not everything in this universe is your domain and to keep your nose,' he said with a last snap, 'out.' The last word was intended not only for the desired state for her nose, but for her whole person, as he indicated with a glare and a pointing finger.
Hermione wisely exited.
The next morning Snape was not at breakfast. Dumbledore indicated to Hermione with a few murmured words that the potions master had not had the best of possible weekends, from which information she deduced that he had been to another meeting. She still couldn't figure out the sudden lust for knowledge of hinkypinks, but at least it explained his current state of mind.
What inspired her to think she could cheer him out of his mood, she didn't know. She went down to the kitchens and procured a pot of coffee and some dry toast. In calmer times, she was able to decide that presuming that he would in any way appreciate that particular type of pampering was her third mistake since she had returned from her weekend.
***
Sirius reflected that when he had been a student at Hogwarts he had never spent more time in the Headmaster's office than he did these days. He never would have suspected as a boy that the nutty but sometimes frightening headmaster would one day find anything he had to say of any use whatsoever, let alone sit and take notes while he was saying it.
The man in question was not, in fact, personally taking notes of course, but watching as a brightly coloured quill took them for him. As Sirius watched, the old man nodded and the quill blotted itself on a scrap of nearby paper, and lay itself down.
'I believe that will be all for this morning,' Dumbledore said, adding a twinkle for effect over his spectacles. 'Minerva has informed me that if I do not allow you to attend lunch this afternoon there will be serious consequences. It seems she and Poppy were disappointed you hadn't more free time on the weekend.' Sirius shared a smile with the headmaster. Since he had got out of Azkaban and had been visiting Hogwarts frequently, the Head of Gryffindor had been resuming her duties over the former Gryffindor inmate.
The two men were heading down to the entrance hall to meet Minerva and Poppy for lunch when a sudden sound from a corridor near the hall startled them. They rounded the corner to the growing sound of raised voices. Dumbledore caught the eye of Minerva McGonagall, who stepped forward to investigate, Poppy following behind her.
Sirius grinned at hearing a baritone bellow. 'I'd recognise that voice any time. The number of times I've had a stand-up argument with Severus Snape...' He frowned. 'It's not like him to raise his voice these days, though,' he added.
McGonagall and Dumbledore shared an amused look, and Poppy bit back a chuckle.
'You obviously haven't spent much time with him in the last year, then,' she said with a twinkle, and giggled at Minerva. Sirius shot them all a puzzled look, but was unable to enquire as the shouting got louder and the shouters themselves appeared far down the corridor.
'I never told you to mix that bezoar into that potion!' Snape's usually silken tones reverberated down the hallway.
'You know you did! You were just distracted by Malfoy-'
'I AM NEVER DISTRACTED IN CLASS!'
'*By Malfoy* who was preening as usual! You never noticed that I-'
'Your lack of intelligence in-'
A very sharp, very loud slap punctuated Hermione's next point, and efficiently ended the argument. The four watchers looked on as she turned neatly on her heel and exited down a side corridor, and Snape, hand to his face, shook his head and, completely unaware of his audience, headed after her.
The four at the other end of the corridor stood silently for a few moments.
'Well,' said Sirius.
'I doubt you could have summed it up more eloquently, my dear boy,' Poppy murmured, moving toward the great hall.
'"Dear boy,"' Sirius muttered disgustedly, following her. The headmaster remained, staring down the corridor, with the headmistress beside him. McGonagall shook her head.
'The two of them seem to be making no progress whatsoever,' she complained.
'Really?' asked the headmaster.
'I really wish you wouldn't twinkle like that at me, it makes me feel dizzy,' Minerva scolded. 'Besides, they're moving backwards, if anything.'
Albus twinkled harder. 'I'm sure they are, Minerva. By the way, did you note that he went after her?'
Minerva glared at him as he turned around and walked toward the great hall.
'You really are annoyingly smug sometimes, Albus,' she said.
***
Hermione reflected that the situation was all too familiar as she paced furiously in her chambers. Pacing furiously after conversations with Snape was something that, this past weekend, she had envisioned leaving behind her, but alas, no.
With a small scream she stopped in her tracks, turned to the laboratory in her living room and began throwing random ingredients into an inexpensive cauldron. It immediately began to bubble and hiss, and she watched on with satisfaction. This was certainly more satisfying than pacing.
A loud rap sounded at her door, followed by a curt, 'Hermione!' and Hermione's frown increased. Luckily, the cauldron chose that moment to explode, loudly, and she was relieved of the task of having to answer. The extraordinary bang of the explosion was even more satisfying, despite the mess and the apparent alarm it caused to the man outside the door.
It was some minutes before Snape finally desisted knocking, minutes Hermione felt were well spent in pulling faces at the door and assuring her angry wards remained in place. When Snape finally went away, quite a lot of the anger burning in Hermione from the argument had subsisted, and the rest had burnt out in the amusement of having panicked him with the cauldron's explosion.
As she turned and cleaned up the mess made by her cauldron, Hermione reflected with amazement that it had only been a few days before that she had actually contemplated giving her virginity to the man. Looking back on it now, it was the craziest of schemes. The potions master obviously considered her as no more than a pestful ex-student, a hindrance he had the most utter misfortune to be loaded with by the headmaster- he had said as much in the last hour. No, not said, *insinuated*, Hermione reflected, slamming a cloth into the ruined cauldron. The man never said anything outright.
And she had considered sleeping with him. Hah! He probably wouldn't know how to set a woman on fire in anything but the most literal sense. Even then, warmth was an alien thing to him. She didn't know why his breath steamed.
She had actually considered *seducing* the damned misanthropic bastard. Hah again. Better luck trying to seduce the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. (She thought about that for a moment, and grimaced. She had heard some nasty rumours in the school.) She had actually considered teasing him about having kissed her the week before, when she was drunk. Teasing him, as if he had been too gentlemanly to mention it. As if. He probably had forgotten it- no, repressed it: never having had a remotely human moment in his life, his fragile psyche had pushed the unwanted moment into the depths of his subconscious, where he wouldn't have to be disturbed by it. Hermione snarled, and scrubbed harder at a spot on the wall.
A tentative knock sounded at her door, and, grimly, Hermione turned and strode toward it. If he had the balls to knock at her door again, she was damned well going to answer it. She waved away the wards and wrenched the wooden door open, anger gearing her mouth to full speed.
'And next time you have research that includes erotic dreams about me, be bloody well open about it!' she yelled to Snape's general height, and then, seeing empty air, looked down slightly. '--Minerva.'
The transfiguration mistress looked at her with the type of raised- eyebrow surprise only elderly Scottish women can achieve.
'I can promise you I will, dear child. But that was not the purpose of my visit. I heard a commotion in the entranceway before and was wondering if you were all right?'
Hermione vainly fought down a rising blush and nodded. 'Perfectly fine. Thank you, Minerva.'
The headmistress nodded and began to turn away. She turned back for a moment, looking as though she wanted to add something, but changed her mind and, with another nod, turned down the corridor.
Hermione closed the door, leant back against it, and sighed.
***
The resounding silence between the potions and muggle studies teachers that would have been so satisfying to them both was not allowed to continue past dinner. This was because of Dumbledore and an innocent request, which was of a conspicuously handy nature and which was a surprise to no-one.
'Severus, I believe I have come up with a method of applying psychic power to your current experiment,' the headmaster announced after dinner as he popped into the dungeons. 'If you will summon Miss Granger...' he suggested.
'She is no doubt busy with Black,' came the curt reply. Snape continued to look at his work which, unfortunately, was clearly an already- corrected student essay. The headmaster waited politely for Snape to give in and look up, and then raised his eyebrows.
'Oh, I believe Miss Granger would be only too happy to give up any social plans for such important work as this,' he suggested. Snape sighed, dug out a torn piece of parchment, wrote a message on it, folded it, walked laboriously over to the fireplace, threw in a pinch of powder, sighed, and called out 'Granger,' throwing the parchment through the flames. Dumbledore smiled at the performance. He had never seen Put-Upon-But-Devoted-Servant acted so well since he had seen his teenaged nephew asked to clean his room some years before.
Mere minutes passed before Hermione, slightly puffed, appeared in the doorway. She glared at Snape, smiled at the headmaster, and went over to a side-cupboard to retrieve several small cauldrons.
Dumbledore was interested to note, as both his teachers set to work, that Hermione took the time to reply to Snape's abruptly-scribbled message. A well-placed writing spell landed on the corrected student essay and scribbled out her displeasure at being so rudely summoned, most of which Dumbledore was able to read before Snape snatched the paper away. She spelt 'conflagration' correctly, he was pleased to see, and so few young people these days took the trouble to respond properly to written correspondence.
The evening progressed in relative calm, or at least silence.
The next day worked better for Dumbledore's plans. The work of the evening before had progressed so well that his two professors needed his assistance for only the morning of the next day, by which time their mutual passion for their work had overcome, or at least made them temporarily forget, their differences. An excited Snape (well, excited for Snape; he forgot to glower as much as usual) appeared at Dumbledore's door for further advice on concentrating psychic powers, explaining that Miss Granger was currently making up several experimental batches of potion for them to work with.
It was evening the next day before the two had an experimental technique progressed to a sufficient point for a full trial. In order to avoid any complications, the test subject- Hermione, in this case- had to fall asleep unaided by potions, which meant a night-time test. It was for this, and other reasons that the two refused Dumbledore's offer of help, citing also the impossibility of outside help with a potion that was currently attuned to only two subjects.
Dumbledore left them on the evening of that day perfectly assured of his own, if not their, experiment's outcome.
***
Hermione fought through the clouds of sleep, now familiar with the effects of the dream potion. Some part of her scientist's brain prompted her to note every illusion, analyse every feeling, but it made her so tired...
She was in a room, sitting on a chair, with only her nightgown on. The room was dark and filled with shadows. Two great windows, as tall as the room itself, opened into the moonlight, forming the only two spots of light. Great velvet curtains, a deep blood red, billowed from the windows, snapping and waving, but there was no wind.
She sat in the chair for some time, unmoving, watching the curtains snap. The chair faced the far wall, with the windows on her right, and watching the curtains was like watching waves in a Noh play.
Snape stepped into the dream.
The curtain blocked his view of her for a moment, then snapped back, billowing over her once more like the arms of sleep. Snape thought she looked so beautiful there, entranced by the waves of the curtains, obviously unaware of his presence in her dream.
He felt an impulse to touch her, and suddenly found himself standing by her chair, startling both of them. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but let the moment pass. This experiment was about exploring the possibilities of dream, after all. They had to observe and to play.
'Stand up,' he said.
'Stand up.' She heard the command in her head, and looked up with fear at the man standing beside her. Did he really dislike her so much? Fear shivered down her spine, but she did as he commanded. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down. She was trying to be rational, but her senses were clogged by the dream. Snape was standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body.
She took a moment to contemplate him. In her other dreams, her dream- Snape had been about feeling, not about seeing. She had sensed, rather than seen him, as was the way with dreams. In this dream, his presence was as tangible as in reality, and as overwhelming. She tilted her head and contemplated him. It wasn't often that she got to see him this close.
Without knowing how she did it, suddenly her hand rested on his cheek. Her eyes widened. It was slow motion, but so fast that she couldn't see it.
'It's like being underwater,' she said.
Snape saw her fear soften, and felt something unwillingly melt in him. His arms found their way around her and he frowned in surprise. It seemed he didn't need to even think of an action before he did it. Somehow, the action changed from something questionable to something perfectly natural and proper: they were dancing, the feeling of it bringing back formal parties in his youth. Some part of his brain still whispered that he would use any excuse to explain his bad behaviour. He couldn't quite push it away.
Hermione moved uneasily in the strange dance, her fear tangible now. She looked up to see the impassive face of Snape swiftly reveal a flash of anger, startling her. She cringed away as he seemed to transform, hate filling his face. She began to panic.
Snape felt Hermione change, and looked down to see her cringing away from him. Startled, he stepped back, backing away as she began to whimper and struggle. Only then did he notice she was still being held by some dark figure, one that wasn't letting her go. Concerned, he stepped forward to pull the two apart, but the slamming of fear and revulsion coming from the two of them pushed him to the edge of the room. He watched, alarmed, for a few moments before he remembered the escape button he and Dumbledore had developed for him to get out of the dream.
He was hurtled back into reality with a jolt, and blinked slowly as he looked around his office. The clinging folds of the dream swiftly dispersed. Hermione- she would still be in the dream, unaware that it was no longer being controlled. He headed for the door, wondering at the arrogance that had led them to decide the experiment could be conducted from their separate rooms- it had never occurred to either of them that the volatile potion could create a dangerous situation.
The moments taken with racing upstairs to her rooms were filled with scientific self-recrimination. He got to her door and thanked whatever gods might have been watching that the extra wards she had thrown up after their fight the other day had been removed, and only her password was required for access.
He stormed through the living room and into the bedroom, where the figure on the bed made small sounds of protest in her dream. Snapping on the lights with a click of his fingers, Snape strode over to the bed and shook the struggling girl awake.
'Hermione, wake up,' he commanded, but the sound of his voice evidently frightened the girl further. Snape frowned at his own stupidity- she was having a nightmare about him and he came in and commanded she awoke. He shook her again, more gently this time, and made soothing sounds as she woke up, curled up like a small child. He pulled her into his arms as the dream dissipated.
Her fear made its way out in shivers as she clutched at his coat. He refused to think what his dream self had inflicted on her in the time it had taken to wake her; her grip on him was like a vice of fear. He was at a loss. Though he had been around many terrified people before, it had never fallen to him to actually calm them down. A memory flashed of Molly Weasley comforting one of her brood in Dumbledore's office after some foolish escapade, and he tentatively began to stroke her hair. It seemed to work.
They sat in this strange tableau for some time, tensions slowly shifting until Snape became aware that the positions of comforter and comforted had somehow shifted. Without his notice, her arms had ceased their terrified hold and had crept around him as he sat tense and worried over her. How, he thought with some irony, typically Gryffindor. He smoothed hair back from her face as she looked up at him, her expression watchful. He was exquisitely aware of how soft her face felt in his hand, how it tingled to have his arm around her and hers around him, tangled inextricably, it seemed. It was all so uncomplicated.
He leant down and kissed her.