I'm so happy I made everyone else happy with the return of this fic :) And here's some more. Enjoy!
Severus sat back in the hard-padded chair and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He'd been waiting on the Rugens since before Tom Riddle was so much dust. It was a miracle that Augustus had tracked down such an intact copy…and yet his thoughts were very firmly not with the no doubt priceless collection of papers.
And though it was closing in on noon, the reading room was still empty. Only his table was lit, the rest of the long, vaulted room falling to shadow. He'd often wished for this. Rare papers and this almost unknown stillness and silence.
He groaned and stretched his shoulders. His thoughts were with the little witch scurrying about in the vast shelves beyond his room. The feel of her soft skin still moved against his fingers and her taste –though he had washed and shaved and scrubbed his teeth— burned against his lips. Did all Mentoris suffer this and walk away? Then they were better men than he.
He spelled a reservation over the Rugens and pushed himself to his feet. He was doing himself no good. And he had yet more events to schedule. Until another ribboned-witch or wizard presented themselves to the world, they would be the sought after couple.
Augustus caught him as he left the reading room. The rotund little man clasped his hand, grinning up at him. "I wore the ribbon myself," he beamed and Severus hated the fact that every ribbon-wearer would seek him out now. "It's a fine tradition. My Mentoris," he sighed and his bright eyes grew misty, "lovely man. And after everything…for a muggle-born to be the first. And you being war heroes. You're both a shining, shining example."
"Thank you, Augustus." And another problem of taking on such a public and sacred role. He couldn't be himself. He had to be bloody polite. "Please reserve the Rugens for me for tomorrow. I have business this afternoon."
"Of course, of course." Augustus' wide smile dimmed. "I had to turn away the Skeeter woman just now. She had the specious excuse of research, but I know she was here to seek out Miss Granger."
Severus stilled. "How long ago?"
"Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. I have little doubt she will try to accost Miss Granger when she leaves for lunch."
"Thank you, again, Augustus."
Severus nodded, refused to admit to himself that he was searching the labyrinth of towering, dark wood stacks for the little witch –and not finding her— and headed for the doors. Bolts and locks pulled back and the massive doors creaked open.
Rita Skeeter stood straight, hands running over her hips to straighten out the non-existent creases in her narrow skirt. She tottered forward, a sharp grin on her face and her ever-present quill flickering away at her shoulder. "Severus! How marvellous that you're here. Have you spent the morning with Hermione?"
He walked past her, measured in his strides to draw the blasted woman away from the Archives. "It's Miss Granger's first day. A rare work became available, one I've waited on for a while now." The lift doors opened and Severus waved her inside.
"I'm—" Skeeter glanced back down the shadowed corridor.
"Miss Granger is not yet available to interview." He gave her one of his thin smiles, one that had made even Bellatrix pause. "I insist."
Skeeter's hard mask -her true face- settled on her features. "I'm not scared of you, Severus Snape." She lifted her chin and marched into the empty lift.
"How confident you are," he murmured and pressed the button for Atrium. What he had planned needed to be public. Very public.
"Why now? Why her?" Skeeter stood too close, the thick, cloying scent of honey and jasmine rolling off her in waves. Severus fought back a grimace.
Skeeter stood too close, the thick, cloying scent of honey and jasmine rolling off her in waves. Severus fought back a grimace. "Miss Skeeter." He warmed a smile and was pleased to note the involuntary hint of pink work its way into her cheeks. He wasn't handsome -he would never claim to be- but he had something, something that worked on women. If he ever discovered what it was, he'd synthesise it, bottle it and make a fortune. "If you wish to talk, I don't believe this lift is the best place for such a conversation."
His observation was born out by three wizards bustling into the lift. Though one look at Skeeter and then him, it was certain they wished they'd grabbed another car. Severus wondered whom they feared more.
The lift pinged and the doors opened up onto the Atrium. Severus ushered Skeeter out. Before the fountain seemed like an excellent place for their…chat. "Miss Granger was unaware of the danger her virginity presented."
Skeeter stopped, staring up at him, though her quill and pad were already bouncing and scribbling. She touched a taloned finger to her bright red lips and her eyes narrowed. "A witch celebrated for her intelligence, for her knowledge and she didn't know something so basic?" The journalist's eyes glittered. "I find that very hard to believe."
Already a thin crowd was starting to form, more people would thicken it soon, he was certain. He straightened his cuffs. "She spent her time at Hogwarts keeping herself and Mr Potter alive. There was hardly time for her to pursue other matters."
"So she caught your eye there?"
Severus gave a huff of laughter. "Between Dumbledore and Voldemort," his lip curled at the startled gasp of the growing crowd, "I was kept very busy simply trying to stay alive too." He touched his throat in a deliberate reminder. "I almost failed."
"Is that how his affair began, Severus? Was Hermione Granger the one to save you?"
"Miss Granger had a Dark Lord to kill and a school to protect."
"Then you came together," her lips twitched, "when she was hiding out in Harry Potter's secret house?" She flicked her fingers. "It's not as if I –and therefore my lovely readers— don't know about his house in London."
"I accepted the role of Mentoris on Friday."
Skeeter leant in. "How did you do it, Severus? Really? She has a ribbon and you have what passes for a ring. It can't be real. Not for her."
The crowd was big enough now -–at least eight deep around them— and the odious woman had offered the opening he needed. His voice darkened and he felt the crowd rear back as one. "You dare to insinuate that the magic of the Ribbon is false?"
"So…" Skeeter ignored the threat and pushed down her glasses, her expression overly coy. "What's her favourite position? What's yours?"
Severus let the anger surge. How dare she? Odious…cow. "What?" His voice was little more than a growl.
And his sparking wand whipped into his hand.
Hermione loved the Archives. Loved them. The whole place held the scent of parchment. New and old. A deeper, richer odour than Hogwarts' library. That place, though wonderful, was always overlaid with the desperate pulse of teenage hormones. She was living, breathing in untainted books. It was almost bliss.
She smirked, focusing on her thumb as it stroked across the ribbon securing the scroll she held. Definitely almost. Not even living in a book compared to the wicked touch of Severus Snape. Her skin still tingled and it had been hours since his sinful fingers had—
"Granger!"
Sarah Fawcett, a Ravenclaw two years ahead of Hermione, skidded to a stop beside her aisle. She gripped the ancient wood of the stacks and leant forward, her breathing laboured. "I got a memo from Michael -–Stebbins, my fiancé, works in Foreign Affairs and Sports— saying there's something going on in the Atrium. His office overlooks it. It's Snape. Professor Snape. Your…your Mentoris. He thinks he's duelling!"
Hermione blinked, trying to process the rapid flow of words. Her heart turned over. "Duelling? Duelling who?"
"You're due a break." Sarah grinned at her, her face red, her eyes wide with excitement. "Let's find out."
"I…" Guilt twisted Hermione's stomach into a tight knot. Yet more of his life disrupted, endangered, because of her demand. She couldn't let him face this alone. They were in this together. But would he thank her for interfering? "Yes. Yes, I have to see Master Beggins."
Sarah ushered her forward. Not touching her arm. But then would anyone risk it if Severus was already duelling over her? And that wasn't a hot, excited flip in her belly. He was defending the magic of the Ribbon and the Ring. Not her.
Augustus Beggins waved her out of the Archives with an indulgent smile. He'd declared her first week much her own, as she found her way around the vastness of the labyrinth of knowledge. With Sarah on her heels, they walked quickly -–an elegant witch or wizard did not run— to the lifts.
Hermione's heart was in her throat as the doors clanked and closed. "Did Michael say who he was duelling?"
She'd bitten back on calling him Severus. And saying Professor Snape somehow felt wrong, though it was correct to use it. They'd both shared him as a Potions Master, but her current status with him…? It felt wrong. It was a problem she'd have to overcome. Severus had been a professor for almost two decades. He'd taught a whole swathe of the wizarding world.
"He couldn't see. The crowd was too big."
The doors opened and more people bustled in, casting sharp looks and leaving a very distinct bubble of space around her. Well, Severus had accomplished one thing. No one but a complete fool would consider touching her now.
The Atrium was packed, noise and heat and people filling the huge space. Yet, as they had for Severus that morning, they melted away from her, leaving a direct path to her Mentoris.
His voice –deep and angered— reached her before she saw him.
"You dare to insinuate that the magic of the Ribbon is false?" The reply was lost in the noise of the crowd. "What?" That came on a low growl that rippled a shiver down her spine.
The murmurs of the crowd dropped to silence and Hermione stepped into the space that surrounded Severus. His wand was gripped in a tightened, white fist pointed to the tiled floor. Before him stood the unrepentant, almost flippant form of Rita Skeeter.
"And here's your little witch now. And -–colour me so surprised— her ribbon is still white." Rita sneered, her quick-quotes quill scribbling across a pad that hovered at her shoulder. "Really, Severus, you want me, my readers, the good people of this Ministry, to believe that this muggle-born was untouched, is untouched?" Her eyes narrowed in a gimlet stare. "I have it on good authority that very few women –none in fact— remain untouched when alone with you."
Hermione's stomach turned over. He hadn't… He hadn't slept with Rita Skeeter. She almost palmed her wand to hex the woman herself. But she didn't. Severus was her champion. Instead, she lifted her chin and remained silent. If anyone could eviscerate the vile witch, it was Severus Snape. And she'd gladly watch.
His shoulders loosened, no doubt giving the false impression that his anger had faded. "I am very pleased to announce to the good people of this Ministry that I have not once been alone with you."
Relieved laughter rippled and a muscle twitched below Rita's right eye. "How did you do it, Severus? Corrupt the sacred magic? Was it something He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught you?"
Tension rippled now in the place of laughter. The suggestion was obscene…but she'd seen how witches and wizards would happily swallow the Prophet's lies.
Rita leant in, her smile sharp, a red rictus of sneering hate. "What do you teach her from your Death-Eater past, Severus Snape? What vile acts do you play out on her innocent flesh?"
Severus sighed and used his wand to scratch his temple. "You cannot have it both ways, Miss Skeeter. Either my charge is a false woman, or she is innocent. She cannot be both."
Rita opened her mouth and fast as a snake-strike, the tip of his wand was at her right eye.
"No. You have made your allegations. Miss Granger is as pure a witch as any I have known. She is brilliant and courageous. It is my honour to be her Mentoris. Voldemort –Merlin's sake, find some spine and say his name— is gone. And Miss Granger is proud to display that fact by her wearing of the Ribbon.
"Now," his voice dropped, low and hard, "let the magic to which we are both subject answer for our honesty."
Rita screamed. Her quill and pad clattered to the floor as she rose into the air, twisting, turning against unseen assailants as silver-white streams swept around the struggling witch. As one, the crowd fell back.
The wreath of magic didn't originate from his wand. Hermione frowned. It curled out from the golden ring on his hand, wrapping around his wand before it chased after the errant witch. Her heart tightened and she pressed a hand to her throat, her fingertips skimming the warmth of her ribbon. Their magic, defending them.
"That can't be faked," muttered one old wizard behind Hermione. "My Mentoris, she invoked the Ring magic against one of my mother's friends. Scared the life out of old hag…and she never questioned our bond after that."
Abruptly the magic broke away and Rita hit the floor with a hard thump. Severus stalked towards her. "I trust," he murmured, but still loud enough for the crowd to hear, "that this will end your smear campaign against Miss Granger. You will print a front page retraction in the Evening Prophet. Our magic does not react...kindly to those who continually malign it."
The journalist nodded, her white-blonde ringlets falling about her reddened face. "No more, Severus."
"Master Snape." He bit out the title and lifted an eyebrow.
"Master Snape," she repeated.
He gave her an oblique nod and offered his hand. Rita stared at it as if he were offering her a live snake. But she took it, placing a shaking hand in his. He drew her to her feet and presented her with a short bow.
"Good day, Miss Skeeter."
He turned on his heel and his gaze found Hermione. Her cheeks grew hot. "Miss Granger." His voice had softened and a touch of smile lifted his mouth.
Habit already had her raising her hand to him. Gentle fingers enfolded hers and his lips brushed her knuckles. She was certain she heard more than one witch give a soft sigh.
"Master Snape."
His eyebrow lifted and that twitch of a smile deepened. "May I escort you to lunch?"
"I…" She knew she was cobwebbed and dusty, that her perfect hairstyle had slipped even Gret's fierce magic. "I was in the Archives…"
A discreet wave of his wand whispered magic over her. Her hair tugged and the weave in it tightened. He drew out a handkerchief and another flick transfigured it. A warmth surrounded her. He truly was in the wrong profession as a soft, pashmina shawl wrapped itself around her shoulders.
He'd made her look neat and presentable with little fuss. Her heart swelled. She nodded. "I would be honoured."
He eased her hand into the crook of his arm. Already the crowd had mostly dispersed. Rita Skeeter had vanished. Wizard's nodded their heads, a mark of respect, but something in their eyes made Hermione's fingers tighten against the smooth cloth of his sleeve.
Severus covered her hand with his own and the gesture eased her tension. "Hermione?"
"The grindylows are edging to the shore."
Severus frowned, his gaze moving over the wizards still watching them. A few flushed and turned away. Others remained stoic under the Potions Master's glare.
"They will not touch you."
Something burned in his voice, something she wanted, needed to label as possessiveness. That the man he was was guarding her for himself, not just for the magic. It was a little lie she bound to her heart as he called for Diagon Alley and they spun off into the floo network.
As ever, let me know what you think :)