Chapter Six

"Wow, Hermione, he didn't say anything about it?"

"No, Ron, not a thing." She was still in shock from her meeting with Professor Snape, even after telling the boys all of what he'd said.

"You yelled and swore at him last night and he didn't do anything at all about it?"

"Yes, for the tenth time, yes, he didn't say a thing!" She was getting a little annoyed.

"Wonder why," said Harry as the three of them walked down to supper.

"Who cares?" yelled Ron. "She's off the hook!"

"Knowing Snape, he's probably got something worse planned," said Harry. "I bet he'll give you loads of really difficult potions to do when you're in there. How are you going to stand it?"

"I'll be fine. I mean, I've already had two detentions with him. And if it's just making potions, it's not a big deal. He'll just sit there and scowl and grade papers while I brew whatever potions he wants me to. If the directions and things are all right there on paper, how hard can it be? Besides, I could really do with a recommendation letter from one of the top Potions Masters in Britain."

"He's really one of the top?" asked Ron.

"Yes. He's mentioned in Important Modern Magical Discoveries, actually."

"What for?" asked Harry.

"He invented the Wolfsbane Potion a few years after he graduated from Hogwarts."

"Whoa… when he knew it would help Lupin?" marveled Ron. "He hated Lupin! And probably all other werewolves."

"I know," said Hermione. "Strange, isn't it?"

"I'll bet Dumbledore had something to do with it," said Harry as they arrived at the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione agreed.

The rest of the weekend passed quickly. Hermione planned out five pages of notes on what to study for the N.E.W.T.s Saturday night. Ron and Harry, along with Ginny and the other Gryffindor players, were on the Quiddtch field for practice almost all of Sunday. Wind-whipped and freezing cold they ate dinner in silence (Hermione thought it was a nice change of pace to eat one meal in peace, without any Quidditch talk) before retiring to the common room. Hermione paged through Jane Eyre while Ron and Harry played chess. Ron won, as usual, but she noticed Harry was definitely improving.

Soon they all went to bed, but Hermione lay awake thinking for a long time. Why didn't Professor Snape punish me for what I did Friday night? What could have possibly happened between then and Saturday afternoon to make him either forget it or forgive me? What if he's just biding his time until he can really crush me? The questions spun around and around inside her head, not allowing her to sleep or relax. It was very late when her exhausted brain finally decided to let her drop off to sleep.

Monday morning she was tired and cranky, but after turning a spinning wheel into a sofa on her first try in Transfiguration she was in a much better mood. Charms passed quickly and Arithmancy after lunch was a breeze. All too soon it was Tuesday. She had been dreading that evening, and for good reason. She didn't know what Professor Snape would do. Relax, Hermione. It's going to be fine. Just keep your big mouth shut and it'll be all right. You'll quietly brew your potion and Professor Snape will sit at his desk and sneer. It'll be fine.

She was wrong.

Severus had somewhat been looking forward to Tuesday evening all weekend. He wouldn't let himself examine too closely the reason, though. That led to thoughts he knew he shouldn't even be thinking about having. Thoughts of Hermione—Granger!—and his dream. The memories weren't fading with the days; if anything they were becoming clearer and sharper in his mind. In the middle of his second year Slytherin and Gryffindor class Tuesday morning he drifted off smelling the scent of her hair and tasting the salt of her skin.

Due to his lack of attention to the class the Creevey twins blew up their wart-removing potion before it was finished, causing everyone within a four foot radius to sprout large green warts everywhere. Severus shouted at them and gave them detention with Hagrid and his "pets" for the next night. When the non-warty students had finished their potions, Severus chose the best brew and gave it to the afflicted children, curing them within minutes.

The rest of his day was uneventful and after supper he hurried back to his classroom to prepare for Miss Granger's work. She would be making the potion equivalent of the spell "Finite Incantatem." When taken, it would stop all effects of the previous potion the drinker had taken, whether they'd imbibed it an hour or a month before. It was very useful for classes with younger or extremely incompetent students when the result of a potion gone awry needed to be counteracted. With the Creevey twins somehow still alive (unfortunately), Severus knew he would need a lot of it.

He had just finished setting out the mortar and pestle and laying the instructions on the side of the table when the doorknob glowed. He strode over and opened the door abruptly, startling Hermione who had just raised her hand to knock. Severus allowed himself a moment to enjoy the expression on her flushed face before snapping "Come in." She entered and immediately went to her place behind the desk nearest his own. Her red face made him remember his dream, when her countenance was flushed as he… He shook himself slightly to bring his mind back to the present; fortunately she didn't see it.

"You will be making the Finite Medicamentum potion. I trust you are familiar with it?" She nodded. "Begin." He seated himself behind his desk and watched as she began snipping the Jobberknoll feathers into tiny pieces. She poured ice plant extract (very costly; it was extremely difficult to remove a large amount of liquid from the tiny leaves of the succulent plant) into the cauldron he had provided and added the feathers. She bent down to retrieve her wand from her bag and lit a small fire under the cauldron with it.

Realizing he had been leaning forward to watch her, Severus made himself lean back in his seat. It creaked and Hermione glanced up at him. Caught off guard, his heart skipped and it took him a moment to paste a fearful scowl on his face. If she noticed the pause, she gave no indication. He took several deep, slow breaths to calm himself; he just noticed his heart was doing double-time. Once his pulse was closer to normal he removed a stack of first-year essays from the bottom drawer of his desk and got out his quill and pot of red ink to begin grading them. For a while it succeeded in removing his thoughts from Miss Granger—Confusing a bezoar with a baobab! Indeed! he thought as he made big red slashes across a page—but the splashing noises as she dropped thick, heavy bits of dragon eggshells into the cauldron drew his attention.

Don't you think you should go over and see how she's doing? whispered the give-in-go-ahead voice at the back of his brain.

Yes, I think I should, replied Front-of-the-brain Severus. He rose and went over to Hermione's desk.

"Everything all right, sir?" she asked timidly.

"I feel the need, after seeing the results of your last few potions, to keep a closer eye on you as you brew."

"Yes sir." She continued to stir in the dragon eggshells with her wand. Both watched as they faded from glittering red on one side and opalescent white on the other to dull pink and chalky grey. When she dipped the sieve into the cauldron to strain out the used eggshells, Severus stepped closer. He was directly behind her now and he could tell he was making her nervous. As he unconsciously breathed in the scent of her hair—apple shampoo with a hint of perspiration—he thought, Let her be nervous, the irritating little Gryffindor.

She was little; the top of her head barely reached his chin. For a moment Severus imagined turning her to face him, wrapping his arms around her small body, bending his lips to hers… He abruptly stopped that train of thought in its tracks. The engine was still running, however; he didn't step back.

Hermione reached for the mortar and pestle and began grinding the ginger roots and still he did not move. I'll bet her hair feels wonderful, whispered the back of his mind. I'll bet she wouldn't even notice if you touched it, very lightly. He was inclined to agree. What could it hurt? And he did so want to feel that golden brown softness…

As she was about to pour the powder into the cauldron, the give-in-go-ahead part of Severus' brain made him move his arm up and stroke a strand of her hair with the back of one finger. She jumped and almost dropped the stone bowl into the cauldron. "Sir?" she asked shakily as she stepped to the side and away from him.

"Your hair was about to fall into the cauldron," he growled. He was even more shaken than she, though he did not show it. "Since that would be detrimental to the potion, I moved it in order to save the, ah, potion."

"Um, thank you." Nervously she went back to the cauldron and dumped in the ginger root, but Severus was already striding quickly back to his desk. Damn it, man, control yourself! What has gotten into you? He sat heavily in his chair and picked up his quill. If you carry on like this something horrid is sure to happen soon. You've lived your whole life in complete control of your actions, expressions, words… don't let a stupid physical infatuation with a stupid Gryffindor girl ruin that! Furious at himself, he resumed grading the essays in front of him. He looked up only when he was halfway through the stack. Miss Granger was pouring the pale orange potion into clear glass bottles and labeling them in her precise printing without being told.

"Is that all, sir?" she asked after she'd washed out the cauldron under the gargoyle-head faucets at the side of the room. She was already inching toward the door.

"Quite all, thank you. I shall see you in class tomorrow." She shut the door quietly behind her. Severus heard her hurried footsteps fade away down the corridor as he rested his head on his arms. Merlin's beard, what is the matter with me?

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said as she entered the common room at about nine that evening.

"Where you been?" asked Ron.

"Hello? Snape's classroom? Making potions?" Hermione whapped him on the back of his head as she walked by him. "Honestly, Ron, you're totally oblivious sometimes. Make that most of the time." She took a seat on the floor next to Harry and glared up at Ron where he sat in an armchair.

"Well excuse me for not being totally aware of every detail of your life," he sulked as he smoothed down his hair where she'd ruffled it up.

"Knock it off, guys," Harry said. "How'd it go?"

"Weird. For the first half of it, he stood right behind me, making me nervous, you know? Watching every little thing I did. After that he sat at his desk and completely ignored me."

"I'd rather be ignored by Snape than have him watch me every second," said Ron.

"Me too. I just thought it was strange. He even moved my hair out of the way when it was about to fall into the cauldron. Scared me to death."

"I don't think it's strange," said Harry. "He probably wants to keep you guessing. So you won't know if he'll be watching you like a hawk or leaving you alone. He wants to keep you paranoid to get back at you for yelling at him."

"Yes, that sounds like him. I just…" She stopped.

"What?" asked Harry.

"It's silly, really, I'm sure it's nothing."

"Come on," said Ron.

"Well… Saturday morning during breakfast I kept getting this weird tingling feeling on the back of my neck like someone was watching me. When Professor Snape came over to separate you and Malfoy," she looked at Harry, "I felt it again. I've felt it a few times more in the Great Hall and in the corridors too."

"Maybe you have a secret admirer," teased Ron.

"No, I don't think so. See… this evening when Professor Snape was watching me work, I felt it again."

"So you think Snape's the one that's been watching you?" asked Harry.

"Ew," said Ron making a face. "What on earth for?"

"Thanks," said Hermione.

"I didn't mean it like that. Just… weird."

"Definitely," agreed Harry. "Probably just getting back at you for yelling at him. Again, keeping you paranoid."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right," sighed Hermione. She took a few books out of her bag and spread them around her on the floor. "I've got to study now."

"For a change," Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione ignored him.

Harry and Ron played chess and Harry won one of the three games. Hermione, thankful for their relative silence, immersed herself in studying the theory behind Transfiguration. It was really fascinating to learn how the matter of the object actually rearranged its molecular structure to form a new object. Wizards prided themselves on having discovered the existence of molecules before Muggles, but Hermione had done some research on the subject and found out that the difference in discovery time wasn't even a year.

The following afternoon Hermione nervously took her seat at the rear of the Potions classroom. Who knew what Professor Snape would subject her to in front of her peers? Tormenting her in private was one thing, but torturing her in front of eleven other students was another.

Strangely enough, the professor completely ignored her all afternoon. It wasn't unusual for him to pretend not to see her hand waving in the air when she wanted to answer a question, but he didn't look at her once; not even when she placed her finished potion (flawless, as usual) in its bottle on his desk at the end of class. What is he playing at? she wondered. Oh well. It was rather nice to not have been yelled at, condescended to or looked down upon for a whole Potions lesson. But he'll probably be twice as bad on Friday as he was on Tuesday.

She was right.

Severus rarely drank, but tonight, Friday, he would make an exception. A big, big exception.

Dinner had gone…well… he'd only glanced at Miss Granger once. However, she'd whipped her head around to stare up at the head table and he had the sinking feeling he'd been caught. Suddenly not very hungry anymore he left the Great Hall and went to his classroom where he nervously prepared for the evening's work. He constantly had to tell himself to not get so worked up. It's just like a detention. A detention with a physically attractive young woman. Stop! Stop stop stop! You see, you keep doing it to yourself, Severus. Just shut your stupid brain off!

Amazingly, that worked. He moved about the room like a man enchanted, taking things off shelves and placing them on the desk nearest his own out of habit. Then Hermione arrived. When he saw the doorknob glow his heart began to race and his breathing became audible. He settled himself behind his desk and made his shaking hand dip his quill into the ink before he called "Enter."

She looked almost as nervous as he felt. He didn't blame the poor girl; he'd scared her Tuesday night and totally ignored her during class on Wednesday. She didn't know what to expect from him. She'd quickly begun work on the assigned potion while he sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on grading quizzes.

After only a few minutes—oh, Merlin, he hated to even think about it—he made the mistake of getting up and standing behind her again. She said nothing and continued brewing the potion. (It was a simple pain-relieving potion Madam Pomfrey had requested; Severus hadn't been able to think up anything else for her do to.) Almost unconsciously he moved even closer to her. He noticed her suppress a shudder as he loomed over her. Her hands shook slightly as she measured ingredients. He inhaled her scent, now more sweat than shampoo. He felt—No, no, it can't be, not now!—a familiar heat and tightness in his groin. No, Severus, you can't do this! She's a student, a Gryffindor, you can't think like this! What's wrong with you? You—oh, Merlin, oh… His thoughts ceased as she turned and her robes brushed his crotch ever so softly. This gentlest touch sent him reeling. His mind was whisked away to thoughts of his dream and beyond: things they had already done in his mind and things he wished they could do. He felt the hardness grow more pronounced but could not wrench his mind away from those dark, sweet thoughts.

Without thinking, he reached out and grasped her upper arm roughly, wanting to draw her to him. She dropped the measuring spoon she had been holding and the clank of metal on wood as well as the look of sheer terror on her pale face brought Severus momentarily back to reality. "Out, get out!" he hissed. He realized the fierceness of his grip on her arm suddenly and released her. She might have a bruise in the morning.

"Professor? Wh-what's wrong? Did I do something—"

"Get out, you silly girl. I forgot a very important task I must do immediately and I require the use of this classroom. Leave!" He stepped back quickly and crossed his arms, his long black sleeves conveniently hiding the bulge at the front of his robes.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I don't—"

"Out!" She grabbed her bag and wand and dashed out the door, tears in her eyes.

Severus extinguished the fire beneath the cauldron and left the tools and ingredients where they were. He nearly sprinted through the passageway to his private rooms. Making sure the wall sealed behind him, he began pacing the length of the living room, desk to door, again and again. A few more nights of this and there will be a permanent track in this rug, he thought.

The feeling in his groin was growing more intense and uncomfortable every second. He entered his bedroom and was on his way to a cold shower when he realized that would only provide temporary relief. He sat down heavily on his bed and removed his shoes, intending to go to sleep and ignore the whole incident. But first I need to… no, I can't! Not like this, not about her! But he was starting to be in pain…

Mechanically he moved the necessary articles of clothing out of the way and, closing his eyes, lay back on his bed. His left hand working furiously, Severus acted out in his head everything he'd imagined back in the classroom, ignoring for the moment the fact that it was a student of his that he was fantasizing about. Just before he was about to come, he stopped altogether. When he was calmer, he began again, thus prolonging his pleasure.

Sweaty and panting, he finally finished. He undressed fully, took a warm shower and washed his hair, and after putting on silk shorts (the only kind of underclothing he would wear) he went to the rarely-used liquor cabinet. No mere glass of wine for him tonight; no, he wanted to get very smashed very quickly. At least tomorrow was Saturday so he could take as long as he needed to recover from the hangover he knew he would have. It wasn't a solution to his problem, but it would make him forget about it for at least one night.

He reached in the back for the nearly-full bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. His hand hovered for a moment over a silver shot glass set with emeralds. It had been his father's. He hated it. Instead, he conjured a cut crystal shot glass with his wand and filled it full. Before he even shut the cabinet door he had tossed the burning amber liquid down his throat. Ogden's burned twice as much as normal whiskey and had a rather unpleasant side effect, but he could usually control that. He set the bottle and glass on the hearth of the fireplace after waving his wand to fill it with flames, and then he gathered the pillows and quilts from his bed and made a little nest in front of the fire. As an afterthought, he retrieved the green leather-bound notebook from the locked and warded bottom drawer of his desk and set it next to the bottle of whiskey. He hadn't given it a thought since he opened it at Christmas.

After his third rather large shot, he was feeling quite woozy. He'd barely eaten dinner and had skipped lunch to supervise the clean-up of an unfortunate accident in his classroom caused by some unruly fourth-years, and alcohol on an empty stomach wasn't a good idea unless one wanted to get drunk quickly. Which Severus did.

He sat with his legs stretched in front of him, leaning back on his elbows, and stared into the fire, letting his loopy mind wander. Promising himself he wouldn't feel guilty about any of his thoughts tonight, he let it wander wherever it pleased.

First stop: Hermione Granger. She was definitely a pretty young woman. Big brown eyes, brown hair a bit on the frizzy side, but oh well. Petite. She would wrap up nicely in his long arms and be able to tuck her head under his chin. Nice little breasts—just enough for a handful. Intelligent. Very intelligent. Top of her class all seven years she'd been at Hogwarts. Unfortunately a Muggle-born. Any Slytherin that saw him associating with her would be appalled. But he wouldn't ever. Associate with her, that is. He was just a greasy, overgrown bat of a Potions Master, twenty years older than she was which would make him… Haha! Thirty-seven years old! I know my own age, good heavens! Haha! Thirty-seven and seventeen. Goodness, I'm over twice her age! Is this shot number four or five? Oh well. He took another.

Second stop on his wanderings: Why was he suddenly so infatuated with the girl? Since his dream a week ago he couldn't stop thinking about her. She'd come in for her detention last Friday night, driven him mad with her pestering questions and stormed off after yelling at him. Then he'd finished brewing the Sweet Dreams potion she'd started, gulped it all down while he was ranting at her in his head, and then gone to sleep and had… Oh, just say it!... sexual dreams about her. The next morning he was shaken, could hardly keep his eyes off her at breakfast. Every time he saw her in real life his mind was filled with visions of her nude body. It was so sudden, so abnormal. He'd taken matters into his own hands, so to speak, thinking of her as he did so. Not just thinking; conjuring up the most erotic, sensual, sometimes kinky images possible. He'd imagined her in various garments, environments and situations, anything and everything involving her and him together.

Severus shook his head roughly, causing him to loose his balance and topple over into the mess of pillows and blankets he'd arranged. He lay there for a moment, feeling the flames warm his pale skin and dry his disheveled, damp hair. He watched the shadows dance in and around the tiny hills and valleys of the blankets and felt comfortably sleepy.

But no, he didn't want to go to sleep yet. He wanted to drink until he passed out; something he hadn't done for many years.

Sitting up slowly to avoid dizziness, Severus took his wand from the hearth and summoned a rather old package of clove cigarettes from the top of a bookcase. They drifted over and he caught it clumsily, finding there were six left in the pack. He lit one with his wand and sucked the sweet smoke into his mouth, not inhaling. He smoked them for the taste, not to fill his lungs with who-knows-what. Holding it in for a few seconds, he let it drift out slowly between his lips and dissipate into the air. Guess I haven't forgotten how to do this, he thought after finishing his first cigarette without coughing or getting smoke in his eyes. He lit the next one with the stub of the first, remembering that Lucius, laughing, always called it "cigarette sex." So very like Lucius. Everything was about sex for that man. Severus shuddered.

He chain-smoked through the rest of the cigarettes, taking an occasional shot of Firewhiskey. Alcohol and sweet mint on his lips, he turned his attention to the beautiful new notebook. Find a good use for this, Albus had written on the inside of the front cover. Hmph, thought Severus. Good use. I have no good use. What am I good for? Terrorizing students? Spying? Scaring Gryffindor girls by standing too close to them?

"Accio quill and ink," he said waving his wand in the direction of his desk. The objects floated over and landed roughly on the hearth next to the book. Severus stretched out on his stomach, extending his considerable length across the rug. He dipped the quill and began to write on the first page of the notebook. Due to his inebriated state, his writing slanted downwards and he smudged the ink on several occasions. His penmanship and spelling, however, remained flawless, as usual.

Good use. What would be a good use? Pouring out my woes and sorrows? Okay, here goes: I'm lusting after a student and I don't know why. It's never happened before. I don't specifically remember lusting after anyone since I was at school. So what's going on? I drink a potion, have some dreams, a few hallucinations, and I can't stop thinking about Hermione Bloody Granger. I do hope that's not her middle name. More whiskey! Goodnight.

He left the notebook open and took another shot. As the fire burned down, so did his energy. He belched once, blowing fire out of his mouth almost to the roof, and passed out before the light from the huge flames had faded. He slept the whole night through, not waking until late the next morning.

Consequently he missed seeing an image appear in the notebook underneath his drunken rambling.

What did I do? Hermione thought as she walked quickly back to Gryffindor Tower, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. It's not unusual for Professor Snape to yell like that, but he rarely does it for no apparent reason. She entered the common room and noticed that Harry and Ron were already occupied. They were telling the story of their battle with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries to a bunch of fourth-year girls. Hermione was relieved; she wanted to be alone for now.

After grabbing a few things from her dorm room she made sure she was alone, and then pressed a carved rose on one of her bedposts. She closed her eyes and felt a slight whirling sensation, then opened her eyes on a cozy study with armchairs, a fireplace and a desk. She crossed the room to a huge bathroom. Floor, walls and ceiling were all pale green marble, as were the sink. A giant bathtub in one corner of the room had four steps leading up to it. Hermione turned on the tap and began filling it with steaming hot water. After undressing and laying her robe over the heated towel rack she added a generous amount of lilac-scented bubble bath to the water and climbed in. Being Head Girl definitely had perks. She was the only one allowed to use these rooms, and the only one who knew how to get to them.

Resting her head on the edge of the tub, her hair floating around her in the water, she allowed herself at last to think about what had happened in the Potions classroom. Almost immediately after she had begun brewing the potion, Professor Snape had come to stand right behind her once more, making her extremely nervous and bringing back the tingly feeling on the back of her neck. She had continued for five or ten minutes, shaking and scared, when he suddenly grabbed her arm violently. She'd whirled around and the expression on his face terrified her. She'd never seen him look like that before. It was as if he was somewhere else, but fighting to get back to reality. Then he'd shouted at her to get out, that he'd just remembered something he had to do. But it wasn't like him to forget things. She had always thought of him as an extremely organized man. Something didn't seem right. What if…?

No. No, that's too foolish. I won't even think about that. But…

Well, before Viktor Krum had asked her out fourth year, he'd acted very strange, even more shy and withdrawn than usual. He'd always been hanging around in the library, trying to get up the nerve to talk to her. And then last year, just prior to Ron asking her outside after the Halloween feast, Ron had been even more annoying than usual, picking fights with her at every opportunity, insulting her speech, dress, hair, cat, homework, handwriting, everything.

Professor Snape was acting rather out of character. Usually he stayed as far as possible from all students but recently he'd kept much closer to her than comfort allowed. Usually he took joy (if you could use "joy" and "Snape" in the same sentence) in harassing and humiliating Hermione in class, but Wednesday he'd totally ignored her. And then there was the fact that he was constantly watching her, even when she wasn't in his classroom. Surely it wasn't possible that Professor Snape had… a crush on her, was it?

No, that's a totally ludicrous idea. I'm a student. A Gryffindor. He despises me. Or at least he has for the past six and a half years. Ew, what if he really does fancy me? He's probably twice my age. Too tall. Too cranky. He has very nice hands though. Light, even skin, clean, short nails, long fingers.

She let herself drift in this direction for a while. What could it hurt? Sure, it was a little creepy to think of her Potions Master like this, but no one would ever know. She'd considered possible boyfriends, cute fellow students and celebrities like this before; Viktor, Cedric Diggory, Johnny Depp, Ron, Heath Ledger, Terry Boot, even Harry (though like Ron, he was really more of a brother to her). She relaxed in the hot water—the water in Hogwarts' baths always stayed hot no matter how long you were in them—and closed her eyes.

I'm just tall enough (short enough?) to be able to tuck my head under his chin if he held me. His hair is rather greasy, but it's long and thick—just needs a shampoo or three. His dark eyes could be sexy if they weren't so cold all the time. I wonder what those long hands would feel like on my skin. Would they be cool and dry or warm and moist? Rough or smooth? I wonder what he smells like. What he does in the evenings? I wonder what he's doing right now…

Alright, Hermione, that's enough of that. He's as old as your father, honestly. She stepped out of the tub and dried off with a warm, fluffy mint-green towel, then put on her white terrycloth robe and went into the study. Lighting a fire in the fireplace, she plopped down into an armchair and used a drying spell on her hair. If she let it air dry it would still be damp in the morning.

Morning came, dry hair, armchair and all; she'd fallen asleep gazing into the fire and had the most bizarre dreams. She'd woken with a start, hardly able to believe what she'd dreamt.

Author's Notes: Dun-dun-dun! Cliffhanger! (Sort of.) Tune in next week, kids, to find out what Hermione dreamt, what Severus' hangover will be like, and if Harry will ever beat Ron at chess again! (Maybe not that last one; who cares really? If you wanted to know about Ron and Harry, would you be reading a Severus/Hermione fic? Well there you go).

Look look, I'm actually updating on time for once! Yay me! Ahem. Anyway.

References:

Image of Severus drunk in front of his fire in a nest of blankets: "Where Your Loyalties Lie" by Tater Chip Girl. Severus/Hermione fic, v. good, go read! (I wish I could link these all somewhere…)

Review Replies:

Natsuyori: Thank you so much for being such a faithful reader! It really means a lot that you keep coming back to my story.

Hunter0309: Golf, eh? Hope you did well! Yes, poor Severus. And thank you for saying my story isn't boring! -Laughs- No no, that's a good compliment! Thanks. I'm glad you're continuing to read my story.

Fujutsu: Wow, I'm one of your favourites? Thanks so much!

Alianne: Thank you, thank you! It's always fun to read your reviews.

BabyRuth15: Um, yeah, I guess! Haha! He seemed to enjoy it, at least (at the time). He's feeling awfully guilty about it now, though… Oh well. :P (No need to be sorry, don't worry about it.) And I know some bits are a little wonky, but I'm still going back and tweaking things. Once I get all my chapters up I'll probably go back through it one more time and re-post everything as a "final" (note the quotation marks) post.

Perilous: I love the alarm clock too! As I said, that came from "Roman Holiday" by Anna, a great HP fanfic, though in her story the hula girl wasn't an alarm clock. It just seemed very "Dumbledore" to me!

Transylvanian: Thank you very much! I definitely will keep writing.

I hate to do this (well, I guess I don't really hate it, since I am doing it), but you should go and read my other stories as well! I have a short one-shot Severus/Hermione bit of fluff, and a Harry Potter/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover that is in-progress. Go check them out if they sound at all appealing!

See y'all next weekend!