Warning

This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.

Chapter 46 – Brothers

Just after lunch the next day, Hermione had the perfect opportunity to put Snape's plan into action. When it came to blackmail and subterfuge, she was out of her depth, but he had told her exactly what to say, and she trusted his judgment.

After a quick lunch, she had headed for the library to pick up a book she needed for her project. The practical side was almost completed now, but presenting her results required considerable research, to put her findings into context. Clutching the historical reference she needed, she stepped out into the corridor just as Alistair Baddock turned towards library, from half way down the long passage.

Quickly, she put her head down. This was too good a chance to miss, and she had to get it right. With her face hidden, and still out of earshot of the Slytherin, she muttered a spell softly under her breath. "Emotarus!"

By the time she looked up, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were red. As Baddock approached, he noticed this at once, and looked both surprised and worried.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked, hurrying up to her and reaching out to touch her shoulder in concern.

Irritably, she shook off his hand, making it clear that his touch was not welcome. "As if you don't know!" she snapped.

He was at a loss. "What?" he asked, anxiously. "What have I done?"

Hermione looked up into his face, forcing her expression into one of anger and hurt as she stared at him. Still with the air of one not willing to be pacified, she nodded towards a nearby empty classroom. "Let's talk in here." As soon as he had followed her, extremely puzzled, into the room, she flicked her wand at the door to close it, then rounded on him, angrily. "Alistair, I think that what you're doing to Severus and myself is disgusting!"

Naturally, this was met with a blank stare from the poor Slytherin, who was completely in the dark, but Hermione pretended not to notice. "I know that I must have hurt you," she continued, "but using blackmail to get back at me, through Severus – especially hiding behind your brother – is just ... ," she let her voice trail off as tears overtook the anger.

The expression on Baddock's face was one of stunned disbelief. "Hermione, I ... ," he began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"I know that this probably doesn't mean anything to you, but I love Severus, and he loves me. Using your little brother to do your dirty work and threaten his job is underhand." Slowly, realization was sinking in, and Alistair's face showed not confusion, but horror, as he finally understood Hermione's ramblings. She knew of the problems he had been having with his brother, and felt a pang of sympathy for him, but Snape had stressed the need to make him angry, and she knew she could not back off now. "Frankly, I think blackmail is appalling, even for a Slytherin, and I never would have expected it from you. I don't ...," again, she allowed her voice to crack, and, with a final reproachful glance at the stunned boy, she ran to the door, leaving it open and Alistair staring after her as she hurried away.

Not wanting anyone else to see her in such a state, Hermione slipped quickly into another classroom as soon as she was out of the sight of the library corridor. "Serenia!" Immediately, her face was free of tears and her eyes lost their redness. As she hurried off to the first lesson of the afternoon, she reflected that the brief encounter could not have gone better. In telling their secret, under the pretext of the assumption that Alistair already knew, there was a chance that he would tell others, or that he would join in his brother's scheme, but that as worth the risk. Severus' assessment of the older boy's character as being too decent to let the younger get away with this would, if accurate, mean that Alistair would now intervene and put an end to this. Hermione had her doubts – he was, after all, still a Slytherin – but for now she would simply see how this would play out.

- - -

"Good evening, Ms. Granger," Snape rumbled, as Hermione entered the classroom. "You are looking as beautiful as ever." He was standing at the back of the room, re-organizing empty jars of varying sizes on their shelves, and watched as she began unpacking her bag, preparing to start work.

She turned her warm smile to him. "Why, thank you, Professor Snape. You're not looking so bad, yourself!"

Snape and Hermione had long ago established an unspoken rule of maintaining a certain physical distance between them in the classroom, even when alone. Few students ventured into the domain of the Potions Master unless they had to, but there was too much risk of discovery if they let their guards down. With this in mind, Snape returned to his task as they talked.

"From the reports I have been hearing, I assume that you had a chat with your devoted admirer." She looked quizzically at him, and he explained. "Neither of the Messrs. Baddock were in class this afternoon. I received several inquiries from the staff."

Hermione recounted the lunchtime meeting. It would appear, from the conspicuous absence of both boys from their classes, that it had had the desired effect.

"I still can't figure Alistair out," Hermione said, thoughtfully. "He's so different from his brother."

Snape shook his head. "He is not as different as one might think," he told her. "I had almost forgotten, but in the first year, he was very much like his brother – although without the same brazen confidence. I have no idea what changed him, but it is only since the second year that he has been the way he is now. Your chat with him today, though, should, I believe, have provoked sufficient anger for him to deal with his brother. I suspect it will take a good deal of his former guile."

There was a soft knock at the door, which then opened as Bale and Gem stepped inside. "Do you mind if we work on our projects, Sir?" Bale asked, politely.

Snape gestured the two of them inside with a single nod. Since the night they had assisted him to prepare the restorative for Hermione, nothing had been said regarding his feelings for her, and he had, on occasion, wondered if he had imagined their looks of understanding. He had told Hermione of their involvement in her recovery – including his certainty that they knew his feelings – and she had since thanked them both, but this was the first time since then that they two boys had seen them together. As he had expected, they gave no indication that anything was different. Talking softly together, they exchanged smiles with Hermione and set up to begin work.

There was a part of him that instinctively expected a Slytherin-type reaction from Bale and Gem, regarding Hermione. Even without resorting to blackmail, most of Snape's own house would, at the very least, feel that the Potions Master owed them something for their assistance and silence, and take advantage of that fact. But, as Snape reminded himself, these were not Slytherins. It seemed that the situation had been accepted by them without question or comment, and that their roles in Hermione's recovery had been played out without any thought of recompense. It was refreshing, to say the least.

With little time left before the projects were due (particularly in Hermione's case), Snape reviewed their work critically, and offered constructive advice to all three students. The boys stayed for only a few hours before packing up and bidding Hermione and Snape a quiet "Good night". Gem's quick glance from one to the other as he left was the only indication that they knew anything, but nothing was said. Almost as soon as they left, there was another gentle knock at the door, which Snape answered with a grunt.

The door opened to reveal Alistair Baddock, looking a little hesitant, but resolved. He nodded at Hermione, then stepped towards the teacher.

"Professor, may I have the list that my brother gave you this morning, please?" he asked. Snape saw Hermione glance towards him. He had not told her about the list of demands with which he had been presented just before lunch. He calmly reached into his robes and withdrew a carefully folded paper, which he presented to Baddock. He kept his eyes fixed on the boy as he read the list, watching shock turn to disbelief and horror. Finally, the paper was folded and slipped inside the boy's robes.

Baddock took a deep breath. "I apologize, Sir. You won't be bothered by this again." He turned. "Hermione, believe me, I had nothing to do with this. You were honest with me when you said you were seeing someone else, although," he shot a glance at the teacher, "I had no idea who it was until today, and I have no reason to want to get back at you."

Hermione smiled, but Snape refused to let him off the hook so quickly. "And your brother?" he growled, dangerously.

Baddock straightened his back and looked Snape firmly in the eye. "I'll deal with him, Sir." The teacher looked deep into the student's eyes, in challenge of the words, but the gaze was solid. He nodded slowly, and Baddock turned to go. At the door, he stopped. "I understand why you need to keep this secret," he said, "but if this is serious and is going to continue, then I think you need to face the fact that it will come out eventually. But you have my word that no-one will find out from me."

"So what was in the list?" Hermione's voice was casual, as the Slytherin left the room, but Snape knew that she was itching for an answer. He had already made his decision on that point, though, and refused to disclose the details, insisting that they were irrelevant. In the end she dropped the matter, having no other option, but was far from happy about it. For now, though, she seemed content in the knowledge that Malcolm Baddock was finally off their backs.

"Alistair was right, though, Severus," she sighed. "This will come out eventually."

Snape knew that she was right, but he was determined that it would not happen until things had settled a little with the teachers. He did not want their relationship to be facing opposition on all sides. "We will deal with that when the time arises, my darling." He stepped to the doorway at the back of the classroom, and held out his hand. Slipping her bag over her shoulder, Hermione smiled and together they headed for the warmth and comfort of his rooms.

- - -

The end of April arrived with not a peep from Malcolm Baddock. Snape still saw him in classes, where he was sullen but subdued and obedient, and Hermione had seen both boys together at breaks and mealtimes – Malcolm appearing sulky and silent, and Alistair watchful. There had been no clue as to what had happened between the brothers, but whatever it was had been effective.

Hermione's project was submitted to both the History of Magic professor, and the Potions Master for marking, and to Grendel Moldbury Arkletan, for possible inclusion in his book. Naturally, Hermione spent the following days pacing and worrying. The fact that Snape told her she had nothing to worry about did little to calm her. He was judging it as a school project – Arkletan would be assessing its merits as a publishable work. She should have included more of her research into the theories of potency levels. And why hadn't she included the references to the early dosage calculations? To get her research published would be wonderful, but would it be good enough? All she could do was wait to hear from the author, but she had no idea how long that would take. Publishing a book could take months, or even years, and she was not sure she could wait that long.

Immersing herself in her work provided a good distraction. She knew that Severus had been concerned about her spending so much time on her project, and now was time to redress the balance, ensuring that all her subjects – including her Potions N.E.W.T. – were given due consideration.

It was while she was working on History of Magic in the library one evening, that Ginny approached her with a problem, asking for Hermione's advice.

"It's Ron," she explained. "He says he's alright about me and Harry, but he's started acting – weird. It's like he's suddenly got all protective of me, and doesn't like me spending so much time with a boy."

Hermione frowned. She was not used to giving advice on this kind of thing, and she had no idea what could be bothering Ron. She had thought he was happy about Ginny and Harry being together. "When did he start acting differently?" she asked.

Ginny hung her head. "He saw Harry and me kissing, and he made a joke about it, but I could tell he didn't like it," she sighed. "Now I'm starting to feel guilty whenever Harry kisses me – like we should take it slow, for Ron's sake."

"And what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Harry's the first boy that's kissed me. I don't want to have to stop because of Ron." Ginny looked down, nervously studying her fingers. "What's ... what's it like, kissing ... Professor Snape?"

This caught Hermione off guard. It was not something she had expected to have to talk about, and she was not at all sure she could discuss it. But Ginny looked so confused and bewildered by the subject of romance, that Hermione could not help but be truthful. There was also something exciting and forbidden about being able to confide in someone, and it was not often that she had a heart to heart with another girl. Before she could stop herself, she had blurted out, "It's wonderful, Ginny. He's wonderful."

Ginny blushed and giggled. "Is he a good kisser?"

"Incredible." She gave the younger girl a conspiratorial smile. "How about Harry?"

Ginny's face turned even redder, her cheeks beginning to match the color of her hair. "He makes me feel all warm and ... I don't know ... he's just ... "

Hermione laughed. "I know what you mean. Sounds like you really like him."

"I do. I just hope Ron doesn't start being difficult."

It seemed odd that Ron would be behaving like this. "Maybe he's just being over-protective of his baby sister," was all she could think of to say. "I suppose that a big brother feels a lot of responsibility, especially when you're both so far from your parents. Just don't let him run your life. What other people think shouldn't matter. Try to avoid hurting him, but you have to do things for your own reasons."

You might try taking that advice yourself, Hermione, she told herself on her way to Snape's room that night. Since she had received her mother's last letter, she had heard nothing. Nor had she found the courage to write back. Several times, she had picked up her quill to start, but had always given up. She knew she had to tell them about their engagement, but she just could not find the words. She would tell them soon, she thought. Just a few weeks ... maybe ...

- - -

Hermione was restless.

She did not know what had put her into such a strange mood – the tension of the upcoming exams, perhaps, or the way her thoughts had been dwelling on the unresolved issues with her parents – but she was uptight and irritable. Attempting to do some revision in the library with Ron and Harry, she had found their lack of focus annoying, and had become short with them, snapping at Ron's casual attitude to the upcoming exams. Not wanting to provoke an argument, she had decided to leave, and headed for the ground, hoping that some air would help to clear her head.

Stepping outside, she looked up at the sky. It was overcast and dark, holding rain, but unwilling to release it. It felt, somehow, oppressive – both reflecting and adding to her mood – a heavy gray blanket, smothering her, and stretching from horizon to horizon allowing no escape.

Her mind drifted to the dungeon and her lover, picturing him working alone at his desk. Things between them were perfect – their work, their love. He had changed so much over the past few months. Outwardly, and to the rest of the school, he was the same severe and cynical tyrant, but with her he was soft and tender. But Hermione had changed, too. They had adapted to each other, and settled into their own comfortable routine.

Could that be what was causing this restlessness, she wondered? Things were almost too quiet. Baddock had left them alone completely, since his brother had taken charge of him, and even the teachers had eased off a little. There was still anger and disgust from many, but it had settled mostly into avoidance, rather than direct hostility. Maybe what she needed was for some of that underlying tension to be released – for the clouds to burst.

She was being ridiculous, she knew. She loved Severus, and their relationship was wonderful. He was the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. What was bothering her?

As her mind drifted, once again, to the dungeon, she found her feet heading the same way. Almost without realizing it, she headed down toward the Potions classroom, and stopped outside the door to his office. There was silence from within, and she stood for a moment, wondering whether or not to interrupt him.

Maybe what she needed was to renew a little of the excitement and unpredictability of their relationship. She smiled, and reached for her wand.

- - -

Snape had been deeply engrossed in his work for several hours now, and had enjoyed the time immensely. It was not often that he allowed himself the luxury of becoming absorbed in a task purely for the pleasure of it, but tonight he had cleared his desk and given himself some time to indulge his passion for potions. He had been only twelve when he had originally heard of the Averon Brew – a perfect balance between opposites that, if created, could increase the potency of any potion a thousand fold. It was a mystical – some even said mythical – concoction, that had held the status of legend since before the founding of Hogwarts.

As far as actually finding out how to produce the substance went, the chances were slim, but that was not the point. Arriving was not the purpose of this journey. He was fascinated by this for the pure enjoyment of the research – like a mathematician dabbling in Fermat's Last Theorem.

His notes, added to over many years of infrequent research, were spread in front of him. His brow furrowed into a frown of concentration as he noted down his latest theories. Often, his reasoning seemed to lead him in circles, but that was all part of the challenge – trying one lead and following its path, only to find it going nowhere, or splitting into several more possibilities, each leading back to the same problem. Despite the difficulties, though, something always drew him back to the quest, and he knew that it would always be his personal Holy Grail.

Straightening from his hunched position over the scrolls, he put down his quill and stretched. Sitting for so long had left him stiff. He wriggled his shoulders to loosen them, then jumped as he felt a soft touch on his back. Small hands moved slowly to his shoulders and began to caress him, and he relaxed into their tenderness. It felt perfect – gentle and sensuous – and unexpected. His desk faced the door, but he had neither heard nor seen her enter. How had she done it? Not that it mattered right now. He pushed his question aside, and focused on her soft hands.

A faint breath teased the side of his neck, and he sighed and closed his eyes as she bent to kiss him. The lips caressing his neck were gentle, at first, but suddenly he felt an instant arousal as her teeth roughly grazed his neck. He caught his breath in surprise. Hermione was not normally aggressive, but he found it extremely exciting. The way her fingers were entwining themselves in his hair, and the way her lips were pulling at his ear were far more forceful than usual.

As she moved round to sit on his lap, her hungry eyes burned fiercely into him, and she bent to press her lips to his.

Their lovemaking was always wonderful, but this was new. Since the first violent and unexpected expression of passion, he had always made a point of keeping himself in check, and being gentle with her, but now she seemed to be the one setting the tone. One of her hands was gripping the front of his robes, while the other was on the back of his head, drawing him forward and increasing the pressure between their lips. Instinct led him to match her passion and he could feel his hardness growing beneath his robes, but at the same time, he felt caution holding him back. It would be so easy to allow his raw emotions to surface, but he was not certain he could control them if they did.

But she was the one leading him, and he was happy to be led.