Minerva was dying for a report of the night's events. She barely allowed Hermione to take a seat at the breakfast table, before hissing at her, "Well?"
"Well what?" Hermione arranged the eggs in a pleasing pattern on the plate, and contemplated the bacon with a furrowed brow. "I wasn't aware that you were interested in chess? Do you really want a blow by blow account of the game?"
"Well I'd certainly like to know how long it was before you reached mate," said Minerva, with as innocent an expression as possible.
Hermione's hand stilled over the bacon. "Do you know," she said thoughtfully, "I really can't remember. I do know that we reached mate, as you put it, on several occasions, but I really can't remember specific timings. Perhaps next time we should have a stopwatch, just so I can report back to you."
Minerva spread butter on her toast with unnecessary vigour, and contemplated her reply.
However, she was thwarted in any further attempt to discuss the matter by the arrival of the man himself.
"Good morning, Hermione."
Minerva was practically trembling with suppressed excitement; it was almost unheard of for Severus to speak to anyone at breakfast, let alone greet someone warmly.
Hermione smiled. "Good morning, Severus."
"Good morning, Severus," echoed Minerva mischievously.
Severus studiously ignored her, and reached for some scrambled eggs. There was nothing in The Rules that said he had to be nice to interfering nosy-parkers, therefore Minerva could safely be ignored.
"Minerva was asking about our chess game," said Hermione.
"I didn't know she was interested in chess." Severus considered the addition of sausages to his plate, and then politely offered them to Hermione.
"That's what I said." Hermione helped herself to a couple of sausages.
"I'm not remotely interested in chess, as you well know," Minerva said bitterly. "I just wanted to know which one of you won. It's a simple question. The fate of the world doesn't turn on it, so why won't you give a straight answer to a straight question?"
"Because it's so very clearly annoying you," replied Severus. "Which is reason enough in itself."
"It's certainly the principle that has governed your behaviour in Staff Meetings, ever since I've known you." Minerva took a sip of tea. "I take it that means you lost," she added smugly.
Severus arched an eyebrow. "Gryffindor tactics have all the subtlety of a Veela. You'll have to do better than that Minerva."
Minerva tsk'd irritably and replaced her cup on her saucer with an audible clatter.
Hermione was amused to notice that Severus was dissecting his sausages as if they were flobberworms. First, a lateral incision, and then, once the sausage was splayed across the plate, it was diced into pieces exactly half an inch in length. She dragged her mind back from contemplating whether he would be that precise in bed, because there was a time and place for that kind of thinking - which was during the next lesson with the children busily reading the set text.
She knew she ought to feel guilty about cheating the children of the full educational experience, but she really wasn't in the mood to try and bring the text to life. She had far more important things to worry about: bringing a Slytherin to bay wasn't going to be easy, even if he did want to be caught.
Severus, having finished his breakfast, murmured his farewells and headed off to bring fear and terror into the hearts of his students.
"I don't know what you see in that man," Minerva said irritably, once he was out of earshot. "Are you going to tell me what happened last night, or just sit there like the Sphinx?"
"I think it's the voice," Hermione said, taking a rhetorical query for a serious question. "Or it might be the hands, I'm not sure."
"You have got it bad, haven't you?"
Hermione didn't deny it, though she thought that there was strong element of the pot calling the kettle black about the whole thing. Minerva had been known to be incredibly vociferous – and detailed – in her admiration of Remus; Hermione was merely indulging in a little mooning over the object of her affection, which was far less traumatising for the other occupants of the castle than a blow by blow account of how Remus was a complete animal in bed. "If you really want to know what went on, I'll tell you. But not here. It's a long story."
"I'll bring a bottle round after dinner then. But it had better be worth the wait."
Hermione grinned. "Oh it is, believe me. It's well worth the wait."
None of Hermione's students were destined to receive the full educational experience that day. She would have been touched to realise that her students were actually slightly concerned to find their teacher so distracted.
"You don't think it's anything to do with the War do you?" whispered Susan Brinterman to her friend Bartleby Minster.
Bartleby cast a knowing eye over Professor Granger. "I don't think so. She's not looking worried precisely."
"It's obvious," put in Charlotte Strangerfield – successor to Pansy Parkinson's title as Slytherin's chief bitch - "She's in lurve."
Several pairs of eyes looked at Professor Granger and assessed the evidence; the verdict definitely came down in favour of being In Love.
"I wonder who with," Susan said.
"Well that's obvious," Charlotte said scornfully. "Remus Lupin hangs round the school an awful lot for someone who doesn't teach here. It must be him."
Bartleby looked very knowing. "Don't be silly, Lupin's got the hots for Professor Snape."
There was silence as the class contemplated the likelihood of Snape and Lupin being an item.
"But they're always arguing," said Susan.
"Exactly," said Bartleby. "It's suppressed passion, isn't it? All that bitterness and bad temper covers up their unresolved sexual tension."
"Well they can't be going out then, can they?" Sharon Starner (Ravenclaw, and therefore better at gathering gossip, if less likely to spread it) said condescendingly. "If it's unresolved, then they aren't shagging, and if they aren't shagging, then what's the point of going out?"
Bartleby was a romantic, and didn't think that this was necessarily the clinching argument. The rest of the class, being rather more earthy, did.
"Anyway," Sharon continued, "I have it on the best authority that Lupin is knocking off old McGonagall. Filch saw him sneaking out one morning."
"Ew," said Bartleby, whose romantic streak did not extend to old persons having sex.
There was another silence as the children excogitated.
"If not Lupin," said Charlotte, in the tones of someone who had just realised something, but didn't want to face it full on. "Then who else is there?"
"Well," said Susan. "Let's look at it logically. It has to be someone here, as she doesn't leave the grounds that much. It has to be someone with a pulse, someone who isn't wrinkly, and probably female."
Sharon, being quicker on the uptake, had already arrived at the answer without the laborious thought processes. "Snape. She's only got the hots for Snape."
"The question is," Susan said, "does Snape have the hots for her?"
"And if he does," said Charlotte, "what should we do about it?
The class looked puzzled.
"I mean, what's in it for us?" she amplified. "Do we want the pair of them happy and too shagged out to pay us any attention, or, do we want them miserable and sulking and ignoring us?"
Bartleby, the aforementioned romantic, was all in favour of giving love a helping hand, for no other reason than the happiness it would bring two lonely souls; the others could see the practical advantages in having a more contented Potions Master, though there was a strong minority in favour of seeing him suffer as much as he had made them suffer in class.
Their speculation was brought to an abrupt halt by Hermione coincidentally recalling what she was there for, and springing a series of nasty question on them; the identity of her amour was forgotten about as they desperately tried to remember what the contents of the chapter on Runic Charms actually said.
Hermione was grateful for the fact that the she was nominated to be Severus' dinner companion. If she hadn't been, the sudden move to sit next to him would have sounded alarm bells in her colleagues' head. This way, she was able to pursue her interest him almost entirely disregarded by them; they were far too interested in eating to pay her much attention.
The only person who had any idea of the brewing romance, kept her gimlet gaze firmly on her plate, relying in Hermione's assurances to tell all, and anxious not to do anything that would startle Severus back into his shell.
Minerva wasn't to be disappointed, though she was a little surprised when Hermione opened the planning session by referring to The Rules. "Have you read them, Minerva?"
"Good god, no. As if I need that kind of rubbish to keep a man interested," Minerva said huffily.
Hermione grinned at her. "Don't be daft. I wasn't suggesting that you needed to apply them; they're obviously a pile of dragon dung written for teenagers. I just meant, had you read them, solely for the purposes of sneering and laughing at them."
"Oh, well in that case, I may have read them. Once. In passing. When I'd confiscated Witches Weekly from some teenage temptress."
"It appears that Severus has been taking an interest in them," Hermione said over her shoulder as she rummaged around trying to find a glass for the wine that Minerva had brought with her.
"The Git! Surely he doesn't think that you're going to start playing silly buggers like that." Minerva poured the wine into the proffered glasses, and handed one to Hermione.
Hermione settled herself comfortably in an armchair opposite Minerva and smirked. "You misunderstand. Severus is applying the rules to me, to make sure that I chase him several times round the castle before he gives in."
Minerva stared at her. "You have got to be joking."
"Nope."
"He's got to be joking then."
"I think he's entirely serious. He has a list laid out and everything. He has a plan."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Really. Hmmmm. Well he is a Slytherin. I don't suppose it should surprise me to find out he has a plan, but really! He should be thanking the fates that you've taken a shine to him, instead of playing silly buggers."
"I think it's sweet really. He wants a bit of courtship: some flowers, chocolates and candlelit dinners. You were saying it yourself, there's nothing wrong with a bit of romance."
Minerva eyed her severely. "You really do have it bad don't you? He should be romancing you, you daft bint, not the other way round. I suppose you're going to let him get away with this?"
"Get away with what?" Hermione replied mildly. "It's not as if he's tricking me into doing something that I don't want to." Minerva was unimpressed by her argument. "Look. Let's face it, Severus Snape is shy and doesn't trust people easily – which isn't bloody surprising – of course he needs to be wooed."
Minerva wrinkled her nose thoughtfully and silently conceded the point; or at least stopped arguing about it on the basis Hermione was a lost cause. "So what did you have in mind? I can't imagine that he'd take kindly to a bunch of roses turning up in his rooms."
"Neither can I. He's far too fond of blasting the rosebushes to make me think he would appreciate them as a gift." Hermione smiled at the thought of Severus using a bouquet as target practice. "And that's half the fun: finding ways to fulfil the terms of The Rules in ways he'll like, but are completely unexpected. What about flowers of sulphur for instance? Or some other potions ingredient, something that's linked very specifically to one sort of potion, and so has a hidden message?"
"I don't suppose you've got a copy of these Rules lying around anywhere, have you?" Minerva asked. "This is going to need careful planning, and I can't remember all the details."
"I think you're sitting on them. They're probably under that cushion somewhere."
Minerva scrabbled around behind her, and pulled out a rather dog-eared book. "I see you went for the full paperback edition, rather than the magazine article."
Hermione shrugged. "It's all I could get. I confiscated it from someone in class. They weren't reading it I grant you, so it was a bit unfair, but if you can't be arbitrary and tyrannical in class, when can you be?"
"Staff meetings?" Minerva opened the book to its contents page and started reading it. "They use an awful lot of exclamation marks; that's not healthy."
"Literary snob. You're supposed to be helping me come up with ideas and not criticising the style."
Minerva gave a sudden crack of laughter. "Oh, I can see why he likes this. Have you seen Rule 3: Be a creature like no other. Severus is there already isn't he? He's certainly unique."
Hermione gazed dreamily into the middle distance. "Oh yes," she said. "Definitely."
Minerva shrugged mentally. Hermione was clearly too far gone to be recovered to a sense of proportion, and all you could do was help her on the way and hope that once she'd succeeded that she'd go back to normal. She returned to reading the book, and found the heading for Chapter Four particularly amusing. "Oh my goodness," she gasped, helpless with laughter. "Have you seen this about bathtime?"
Hermione shook her head. "Enlighten me."
"Apparently, you're supposed to sit in the bath surrounded by expensive unguents and oils and chant self-affirming mantras. Can you imagine?"
The dreamy look was back in Hermione's eyes as she contemplated Severus in the bath. He was taking some of the foam and rubbing it on his chest. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him caressing and stroking, and ... oh yes that was nice... She realised that his lips were moving, and he was saying, "I can hex 99.99 of the population six ways from Sunday."
She gurgled with laughter, and the image of the Potions Master vanished from before her.
Minerva continued, "It'd be something like, 'I make babies cry with a single glance.'"
"Surely not," Hermione said, with a grin. "How about 'I am the Slytherin Sex God.'"
"'Blondes don't do it better. Greasy haired potions masters do'," countered Minerva.
Hermione lobbed a cushion at her. "No, I've got it: 'I am hung like a donkey and shag like a demon.' Now leave poor Severus alone and let's get on with the planning."
Minerva was nothing loath; that last comment had brought up a disturbing mental image. She wasn't sure what was worse, thinking about Severus Snape as a sexual object at all, or the rather disturbing realisation that he wasn't that bad after all. "Well, as I see it," she said, "You haven't a hope in hell of getting anywhere before the third date. So that's two more Friday night chess games to go. And that's only if you manage to fit in the prescribed gift giving in the next fortnight."
"That works out quite well when you think about it," Hermione said thoughtfully. "That takes us near to the end of term, which means we can get an awful lot of romancing done in the holidays."
"True. You don't want Albus getting wind of it. There's nothing more off-putting than the Headmaster trying to play cupid. You'll never get anywhere with him leering at you over the dinner table, and arranging for you two to work together on some silly project. I tell you if I hadn't tied Remus to the bed one evening, we would never have got anywhere at all. Silly man."
It wasn't clear whether she was referring to Albus or Remus as being silly, but Hermione didn't enquire further. She had other fish to fry. "I've booked the first fortnight of the school holidays in a villa somewhere in Tuscany. We can always apparate there for a bit. Get some peace and quiet, a nice bit of Italian food, and the wine's supposed to be very good."
Minerva looked doubtful. "Won't the sun be a bit of a problem? You don't want a sunburned Snape; he'll do nothing but whinge."
Hermione smirked. "I don't think sun will be a problem at all."
"Erm, yes, because you can get sunburn potions and Severus is a Potions Master so he'll know all about that," said Minerva hurriedly, skating over the issue of marathon shagging sessions with aplomb. Really, it was shocking the way the younger generation felt so free to talk about things that should be kept private.
"That's right, Minerva," Hermione said kindly. She waited until Minerva had a mouthful of wine before adding, "And, of course, I don't plan on letting him out of bed."
Minerva manfully retained the wine, though it was a close run thing. "I'll do you a deal, Miss Granger," she said in her best teacher's voice. "You don't give me the sordid details, and I'll help you pin young Snapey down. Any more talk like that, and you're on your own."
"Deal."
They raised their glasses in a toast to silence, and then began the serious business of plotting Severus' downfall.
A/N: Thanks to elisa0984 for the suggestions on The Rules.
