Trying to get back up to my regular speed of posting! Thank you for all your kind reviews, and your support, it really helps to know that this story is being read and enjoyed. Pouf x

Chapter 18

They heard the incantation of an Alohomora being cast, and the surprised squeak of the unwelcome visitor as the spell backfired on her; for Hermione had ensured that her bedchamber door was protected by a magical ward, in addition to the usual castle locks.

"Hold on!" she called, springing from Snape's lap and watching him get reluctantly to his feet, straightening the front of his trousers with a grimace. "I'm coming! You won't be able to open the door from the outside!"

The professor gave her a single nod of farewell, before walking across the bedroom and straight through the fireplace, presumably back to his own chambers. Now, who on earth was at the door at this time of the evening? It wasn't yet curfew, but it was still well after dinner.

It had been a girl's voice, so probably one of her friends? Hermione opened the door to see Susan Bones, her face tear-streaked and scrunching up the yellow Hufflepuff Quidditch t-shirt she was wearing, with apparent anguish.

"Susan? What's the matter? Come in, it's alright. Has something happened?"

Hermione drew the girl into her room and sat her in the armchair before the fire, not wanting to seat her on the bed, which was likely still warm from her tumbling around with the Potions master. The flames of the fire were still glowing green, which meant that Snape had not closed the connection his end, and could therefore hear every word, although she didn't mind. She had nothing to conceal from him, and if he was listening to the conversation, it would save time telling him about it later, if there was going to be a later.

Drawing the wheeled chair from her desk over to her friend, she took hold of Susan's hands. The girl was not crying, but clearly had been.

"What is it? Tell me."

"It's … Professor Briner."

Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes.

"I thought it might be. Has he touched you, Susan?"

"A chance would be a fine thing."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I didn't go to Hogsmeade today. I stayed behind to help him in his private office, he'd asked me for help with some marking and filing … but, I didn't think he really meant it!"

Susan's lip began to wobble as she recounted her tale, and Hermione Accio'd a toilet-roll from the bathroom, thinking that Susan would need something to mop the tears up with, if they fell.

"What did you think he meant? I don't understand, Susan?"

"I thought he liked me, Hermione! I thought that he wanted to spend the day with me in his private quarters while everyone was out of the castle, but no! He only had that bloody Astoria girl at a desk in his office in another detention, and spent more time talking to her than to me! I was like a damn house-elf, doing all his little chores while he ignored me!"

She burst into tears, and Hermione proffered the loo roll, patting Susan's knee in what she hoped what a consoling manner.

"Susan," she said, after a while, allowing the girl to sniffle for a bit. "You must know that Professor Briner is not interested in you … like that?"

"I do now! He was so attentive to me, well, to us, when Hannah and I were always together, but it all changed after she started seeing Neville. Once Briner knew that Hannah was off-limits, he's treated me like nothing but a pathetic lap-dog, chasing around after him for any crumb of attention he might throw me!"

Hermione privately thought that Susan had hit the nail right on the head, although her blue eyes looked up, as if desperate for Hermione to tell her that no, that was rubbish, of course that wasn't happening. When there was no reply, wordlessly confirming her suspicions, Susan dissolved into another round of furious sobs, so loud that they brought Hannah and Neville crashing through the door, which she'd inadvertently left ajar.

"Susan!" exclaimed Hannah. "Where have you been? We've been looking for you everywhere! We even knocked on Professor Briner's door to see if you were still there."

"Like you'd care," snapped Susan, viciously wiping at her eyes with a scrubby bit of toilet paper.

"That's not fair, Susan," said Neville, evenly, striding across the room to sit non-threateningly on the hearth rug beside them. "Nothing that Briner has done, or hasn't done, is Hannah's fault. I know you don't like that he fancies her over you, but you know, that's just how it is."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered, as Hannah closed the door properly and cast a silencing charm before walking over to sit next to Neville on the rug.

"Not really," he replied. "It's not very nice for me to know that some pervert professor has his eye on my girlfriend. It makes me feel pretty sick, actually, and Hannah feels so uncomfortable that she's requested to drop Transfiguration from her timetable."

Susan gaped, and Hermione did too.

"You have?" Susan asked Hannah, who nodded her head, sadly.

"He's a complete creep, Sue. I don't want to be anywhere near him. I know, trust me, I know that you think you like him, but really, you don't. You're just thinking that because of the lack of other suitable boys or men around. Hermione knows what I mean, don't you?"

"Oh, absolutely," she lied. "We are stuck here with a handful of boys our age, no offence Neville, when we should be out in the wider world with a whole plethora of wizards to choose from."

There was a short silence as Susan digested everyone's words.

"I just felt so humiliated. You would have thought I was the one in detention, not Astoria Greengrass. I don't even know what she was being punished for, and she was so rude to him, but it was like the ruder she was, the more interested he became, as if he liked her challenging him."

"That's really worrying," Hermione cut in. "I've been getting on better with Draco recently, I'm going to ask him to speak to Astoria's sister, and maybe one of the Slytherin prefects, to see if they can ensure that Astoria is not being taken advantage of."

"Oh, please don't say I said anything!" Susan begged.

"Susan, don't be stupid. Professor Briner is so unprofessional, and everyone hates him," Hannah advised. "He needs to be got rid of, so that McGonagall can hire a proper teacher. With any luck, it'll happen quickly so that I can get back on the Transfiguration course."

"Did you tell Professor McGonagall that Briner was the reason you were quitting Transfiguration, Hannah?" Hermione asked her, and the blonde girl hung her head.

"I didn't. I just said that the course was too hard. But, I regret that, and if Susan's going to report him, I will too."

"I didn't say I was going to report him!"

"Susan, but …"

"I'm not going to! And you can't make me!"

She leapt up from the chair, stomping across the room and out of the door, slamming it hard. A few seconds later they heard a second door slam, undoubtedly the door of Hannah and Susan's shared bedchamber.

Neville sighed.

"This is madness," he observed ruefully. "After everything that's happened today …"

"I'm sorry, Neville," Hannah said, wrapping her arms around his knees as he leaned back against the bedpost, looking around the small room. "Hey, Hermione. Why is your fire green?"

Shit.

"I charmed it green. Just something I'm working on," she replied, with the fastest lie she could think of. "What else happened today? I didn't see the two of you in Hogsmeade?"

"I took Hannah to see Mum and Dad."

"Oh. Oh, Neville. How were they?"

His eyes began to look a little watery, and his cheeks flushed.

"They weren't great, Hermione. Mum's prognosis is still the same, Healer Strout repeated what she said when you were there, that she's just given up trying to free herself from wherever she's trapped."

"His father was doing well though, wasn't he, Neville?" Hannah added, trying to provide some positive news against the bleakness. "I mean, he wasn't communicating, but the Healer believes he is stable, albeit unaware of his surroundings."

Hermione nodded, sadly.

"How can they live like this, for all these years?" Neville mused. "Nearly two decades in the same room, never going outside, possibly trapped somewhere hellish in their own minds that they can't escape. Wouldn't it be kinder to let them go, to let them be at peace?"

Neither girl replied, knowing that there was no response they could give that would satisfactorily answer Neville's question. It was a hideous, awful situation. It was no wonder that he'd had little patience with Susan's bleatings as she crushed over an unattainable, and frankly quite revolting, older professor.

"Come on, Neville," Hannah said, standing up and taking her boyfriend's hand to tug him to his feet. "Let's go to your room for a while, give Susan time to calm down, and let Hermione get back to bed."

"What?" she replied, absently.

"Back to bed? I'm presuming that you were in bed, since you're in your pyjamas and your bed is all rumpled."

"Oh, yes. I was just drifting off with a book when Susan knocked on the door."

"We'll leave you to it, then. Goodnight, Hermione."

She bid her goodnights to Neville and Hannah, knowing that they would probably spend a large chunk of the night in Neville's room, and good luck to them. Hermione was really enjoying getting to know Hannah Abbott better – the girl was calm, loyal and kind; her inherently Hufflepuff nature a perfect match for Neville's quiet bravery and stoicism. It warmed her heart to see Neville being so well cared for, he was revelling in the attention, the acceptance, and the nurture.

Along with his growing capability in Herbology, the boy who had lacked confidence in his younger years now stood tall and proud, his features handsome, his eyes full of life. As he reached his potential, Hermione thought how heartbreaking it must be to know that his parents would never be able to acknowledge it, never be able to show their pride, as they endured their ghost-like existence in St Mungo's, alive – but yet dead.

-xxx-

"Can I come through?"

Severus was lounging on his sofa, cigarette in hand, when Granger's disembodied voice sounded through the open Floo connection.

"By all means."

In a trice, she was with him, stepping through the fireplace, still in those infernally tiny pyjamas that she'd been wearing earlier. The baser side of his brain wondered if the crotch of those little shorts was damp. He wanted to push his long nose into it and find out, but resisted the urge to be quite so coarse, given the conversation that he'd just listened to.

She did not join him on the sofa, but instead walked around it and stood behind him, planting a light kiss on his cheek and putting her hands on his shoulders, beginning a squeeze that felt rather like a sensuous massage, not that he'd ever received one. Severus closed his eyes, and allowed her to minister to his tight muscles, letting out a small groan of pleasure as her hands moved inside his collar, against his bare skin, and rubbed the sensitive cords of his neck.

Vanishing his half-smoked cigarette, he allowed his head to droop forwards as her clever fingers seemed to find just the right spots to knead out the tension that he held there. Severus felt his jaw slacken and relax; and was glad the sides of his face were obscured by his long hair, since he must look like a mouth-breathing dullard with his jaw hanging open.

Feeling her hands leave his neck and move up into his hair, he rolled his head to lay on the back of the sofa as she carded through the long strands, stimulating his scalp, before moving her hands to his face. That was when he grabbed them, catching both small hands and pulling her forwards, seeking her lips as her mass of curls tumbled down and surrounded him.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he drawled, letting his lips brush against hers as he spoke.

"I just wanted to touch you."

Astounding. She never ceased to render him speechless, again and again.

"Come here," he growled, casting a levitation charm that lifted her over the sofa and into his lap, making her gasp in surprise.

Her legs joined his, sprawled down the full length of the sofa, and Severus guided the girl to lay on his chest, so that he could wrap his arms around her. Never in his life had he felt so needy of touch as he had done lately, ever since … things had started with Miss Granger.

He could hold her all night and it still wouldn't be enough. Quite to his own surprise, he began to stroke her hair, tucking it behind her ear and feeling the soft skin around it. It was an uncommonly tender gesture, and one that he would have thought silly, until now. Now, it seemed perfectly normal to touch someone's hair, or ear, or to clench the small of their back so that you could feel them pressed firmly against you.

"Could you hear everything?" she asked. "I thought that since the flames remained green, that you must have left the connection open."

"I did," he admitted. "Partly to ensure your safety, but then after that, I must admit to being guilty of curiosity."

"It's alright. I would have told you everything, anyway. Do you have any idea what we should do about Professor Briner?"

He exhaled, deeply.

"It is a difficult situation for me. I cannot in all fairness approach Minerva with concerns that Richard Briner is interfering with the students, when I am doing the exact same thing myself."

"You're not interfering with me!"

"Nonetheless, it will be seen as such. We have always known that our intimacy is strictly forbidden, and we chose to pursue it, accepting the risks of being discovered. However, to report a colleague for suspicions of doing the same thing, when I do not have any concrete proof of his wrongdoing …"

"I will, then!" she interrupted. "He might not have actually done anything yet, but his attitude in class, the way he speaks to some of the students, his filthy insinuations … it's disgusting."

"Indeed, it sounds that way, and you have every right to report him. However, be careful. Do not trust the man. If you are the one who reports him, and he finds a shred of information about what you and I have been doing together, he will not hesitate to destroy us both, I am sure of it."

"I don't care."

He chuckled, darkly.

"Granger, you have much to learn about the world, little lion. Saving wizardkind before you even came of age has given you a grossly overestimated view of how life and society works. Slow down. You do not have to fight every battle yourself. Choose wisely, sit back and observe for a while, do not rush in headlong at the first opportunity. You do not always have to be the hero."

"I wish that you weren't right," she grumbled.

"You are an exceptional young witch, but you must accept that limitations, and the foibles and imperfections of others, and indeed yourself, are all part of life."

"That was cryptic."

"Not at all. I believe you know exactly what I am trying to tell you. You merely do not like it."

She laughed, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief that he'd managed to get his point across without pissing her off too badly. Embarrassingly, his stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly against her.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, sitting up.

Was he? He wasn't even sure. He'd eaten little in the Three Broomsticks, interrupted as his lunch was by Andrea Masters, and had skipped dinner in the Great Hall to return to his private lab to tend the brews he was experimenting with, this weekend.

"You haven't eaten, have you?" she pressed.

"I suppose I have not," he conceded.

She shuffled back, sitting cross-legged between his knees, and looked at him sharply.

"Severus," she began, which startled him a little, since they tended to only use one another's given names during intimacy. "I think it's about time you asked me out to dinner."

He felt his eyes open wider, for he had no clue what this cheeky wench was up to. He suspected he might like it, though, from the gleam in her eye.

"You are requesting that I take you out for dinner?"

"No. I think that going out together might be little premature. However, we could stay in for dinner, right now? If you order some of tonight's dinner through the Floo, perhaps a pudding and something to drink, we could eat properly at your dining table, if you were to clear the parchments from it?"

He continued to stare at her; and wondering what in the name of all the gods he had done correctly in order to have this witch all to himself.

"Hermione. Would you do me the great honour of having dinner with me this evening? You may of course come attired just as you are, for it will save me the trouble of removing copious amounts of clothing later."

She rocked forwards onto her knees, which were inches away from his groin, and pressed her upper body against his.

"I'd love to," she whispered, initiating a kiss that curled his toes with its soft passion.

He revelled in it, for a while, before gently moving her out of kissing distance and fixing her with a stern stare.

"Well then, remove yourself from my lips, witch, so that I may order this dinner."

-xxx-

Hermione made herself comfortable on Snape's battered old sofa; and watching as he leaned into the fire to order their dinner from the Hogwarts kitchens. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience, watching his bum as he bent over, knowing exactly how it felt, bare beneath her hands. Thank goodness it was always covered during school time, with his long frock coat and teaching robes.

He stood up; and turned around to see her smiling merrily at him.

"Yes?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I was just staring at your bottom, Sir. My apologies."

"You leave me without words, Miss Granger," he replied, although she could detect the slightest hint of a smile as he spoke.

He sent a blanket spiralling across the room towards her, before kicking off his boots and unfastening the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them to his elbows, and his black hair was a huge contrast to his pale skin and the stark white of the material. She enjoyed looking at his hands, when they were exposed like this. His fingers were long, and the hair on his forearms leeched slightly down onto the back of his hands. He was all man, in every sense of the word, Hermione thought, thinking of Ron's smooth, pale skin with a shudder.

Summoning his wand, Snape began to clear the piles of books and parchments that currently cluttered his dining table. Clearly, it had not been used for eating in a long time. He worked quickly; sending books back to their allotted spaces on the shelves, ordering sheaves of parchments, some of them spinning through the door that led to his private office, which in turn, led on to the Potions classroom. Several discarded quills followed suit, along with two bottles of ink; one red and one black.

It reminded her of a Muggle film she had watched as a child, Mary Poppins, where the magical nanny had tidied the children's nursery by clicking her fingers, right before their amazed faces. If only Hermione had known then, what she knew now. As it was, a childhood spent as a powerful witch being raised as a Muggle, had been rather difficult.

So much for Mary Poppins; Hermione was now getting the live version, as Snape applied a cleaning charm to the table, before opening a cupboard which spilled crockery, cutlery, napkins and goblets on to the surface, ready for their dinner.

Sending two chairs to sit properly at the table, with a final flick of his wand, he turned, perhaps seeking her approval for his efforts, and Hermione stifled a smirk. It had taken every bit of resolve she had, not to start humming 'A Spoonful of Sugar' as he'd worked.

Their food arrived through the Floo, packaged the same as when she ordered through her own fireplace. He sent it to the table, and then approached the sofa, offering his hand and pulling her up to stand. Hermione saw him swallow, deeply.

"It would give me great pleasure if you would consent to be the first witch I have ever taken to dinner," he asked, gruffly.

"I'd love to," she replied, standing on tiptoes for a second, to peck his lips.

Dinner looked amazing. The Great Hall meal must have been fish in a creamy sauce, sautéed potatoes and mixed green vegetables, followed by a watermelon fruit salad and a pot of melted chocolate to dip the melon chunks in. Her professor poured them both goblets of wine from a bottle he'd taken from his own cabinet, a surprisingly-rich white that warmed her mouth as she sipped.

Hermione dug into her food, realising too late how utterly starving she was. Taking a covert peek at Snape, she was saddened to see that he appeared to take no pleasure in the food, concentrating more on the wine than on the sumptuous dinner in front of him. No wonder he was too slim, and his skin so sallow and pale. He seemed not to nurture himself, at all.

Not wanting to say anything outright, she took a forkful of the fish, added a bit of a potato and speared a couple of green beans.

"Try this," she instructed, holding the fork over to him. "It's completely delicious. The seasoning in the fish sauce is sublime."

He looked suspicious, but Hermione knew he would not refuse her, and he allowed her to put the fork in his mouth, where he took the food from it.

"What spice do you think that is, in the sauce? I can't work it out."

She thought if she could get him to savour the different flavours of the dish, rather than just eating for fuel, listlessly, it might excite him a bit more. He seemed not to be able to work it out, and took a second forkful from his own plate, lifting it to his nose to sniff. Hermione wondered if the smoking had affected his taste buds. She was sure she'd read something to that effect, of nicotine or tobacco deadening ones sense of taste, possibly in one of her parents' dental publications.

As he puzzled over the food, she returned to her own, enjoying everything with gusto, and suddenly remembering what she had very much wanted to ask.

"Professor?"

He looked up, raising that eyebrow at her again.

"Severus," she corrected, smiling. "Can I ask you something?"

"Since when did you ever seek permission to question me, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione," she insisted, gratified to see him put the forkful of food into his mouth, and begin scooping up the next whilst he was still chewing. "I want to ask you about Professor Masters."

His face darkened, although he continued to eat, finishing his mouthful before answering her.

"Why do you wish to speak of her?"

"I wondered, not that its my business, but I just wanted to know … why she tried to hold your hand in the Three Broomsticks, today?"

"You saw that."

"I did. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for. And of course it is your business. We are regularly intimate together, therefore you have a right to ensure that I am not taking up with other witches at the same time."

"From what I know of you, I don't think you would do that."

"You are correct. Although we are not in a relationship, I feel a commitment and responsibility to you that extends beyond me merely providing you with your contraceptive potion."

She glowed. It was so good to hear that, from his lips. They continued to eat and drink as they conversed, and Hermione was pleased to see that his plate was gradually emptying, if a little slower than hers.

"I have a great deal that I should tell you about Andrea Masters, but now is not the time. I would not wish to sully our meal together by bringing her into the conversation. All I will tell you for now, is that the touch you saw today, was entirely unbidden and unwelcome."

"She wants you."

"I should think she probably does. But let me reassure you that I want only you, Hermione."

There was not a hint of guile or deception in his words, and it didn't even cross her mind to disbelieve him. His reasoning made perfect sense, for she had no wish to discuss Professor Masters over their dinner together, either.

"I heard Longbottom speaking, when he came to your room, earlier. Am I to understand that that his parents' condition is worsening?"

"His mother's is. His father is much the same as he ever was."

"The boy spoke of them being trapped inside their own minds?"

"That's what their Healer believes, the medi-witch at St Mungos. She's been caring for the Longbottoms for many years now. She thinks that Neville's mother has given up trying to escape, that's why Neville is so upset. To imagine being trapped in your own mind for nearly twenty years … it's just too awful to contemplate."

"Indeed," he replied, thoughtfully. "Hermione, tomorrow, after you have shown your face around the school, I should like you to attend my private laboratory, the one attached to the Potions store, of which I know you are aware."

She nodded, chewing a too-large mouthful of sautéed potatoes that prevented her from answering properly.

"I will show you my current research, where I am working towards creating a potion that is able to, in some way, block or reduce the effect of traumas from our past."

"You're joking?"

"I never joke, as you well know," he rebuked, witheringly. "I admit that the idea for this potion initially came from my own selfish desires to escape the memories of some of the … less pleasant experiences of my past. However, I am intrigued by the Longbottoms' case. Would you like to discuss my research with me, tomorrow? I would appreciate your input."

He would appreciate her input?

"Don't look so incredulous. You are an exceptional mind, as I keep telling you."

"Well, yes then. I'd love to. It's a date."

"It is not," he replied, his eyes sparking with a flash of mischief.

-xxx-

Severus looked down, ready to collect his next mouthful, and realised that he had cleared his plate. When had that happened? He didn't even like fish that much, did he? Granger was wiping her mouth on a napkin and looking rather smug.

"I am full," he declared. "You may help yourself to the pudding."

"You don't want dessert?" she asked.

"No, thank you."

"Let me see if I can change your mind," she said, quietly, standing up so that her chest was level with his face.

What was she up to? Severus was suddenly rather interested. The teasing witch pulled off her skimpy top, baring her full breasts before him, and his mouth immediately began to water. Taking the small dipping bowl of melted chocolate, she held it out to him.

"Take some," she urged. "And then, spread it here, to eat."

Fucking hell.

She had indicated her nipples. His dick sprung to attention, and he found himself doing exactly as she had asked. Severus put two fingers into the bowl of chocolate, scooped a little out, and brought the warm, melted mess to her breast, smearing it over her nipple and the surrounding area. It looked bloody amazing, and for a few seconds he simply stared at his handiwork.

Looking up, he saw that she had reached for a cube of the watermelon, and all of a sudden, his mouth wanted it, needed the thirst-quenching sweetness of the fruit. He took it from her hands, and smeared it in the chocolate that he had spread on her tit, before popping the watermelon chunk in his mouth, where it burst as he chewed, spilling cold juice down his throat.

"One more, and you can lick the rest yourself," the girl told him, passing him another cube of melon, allowing him to repeat the same action again.

"Now?" he asked, once he had swallowed the second piece of fruit.

"Now."

Severus leaned forward and took her chocolate-covered, melon-sweetened breast into his mouth, suckling deeply, running his tongue over the little dots of her areola, slavering at her nipple, and licking every bit of stickiness from her firm tit.

Her shoulders were pulled back, holding her breasts out to him, and they were magnificent – pert and rounded, definitely a woman's breasts, not a child's.

"Do you want more?" she asked, not realising that it was the world's stupidest question.

"Obviously."

Granger passed him the bowl of chocolate, and offered her other breast, as yet unsullied by chocolate, and his seeking mouth.

He'd eat a whole fucking bowl of fruit if it meant this game could continue.

His first dinner date was going rather well, he thought to himself, and Severus was suddenly awfully glad that they weren't in a restaurant.

This kind of behaviour might have been frowned upon.