A/N: Hello, my dearest readers, and a very warm welcome back to 'Accommodations' after this hiatus. I want to thank each and every one of you for your formidable patience with me while I was on vacation. It meant and still means a lot to me.
If any of you want to see some crazy photos and videos of all the touristy, adventurous stuff we experienced in our month-long holiday in Down Under, feel free to check out my Facebook page, MarcellaDix (without a space). Or just ask me, and I'll tell you about all our fun / exhausting / creepy / mind-blowing experiences. ;)
Anyway, don't let me keep you from Chapter Thirty. THIRTY. Still can't believe it we've already come so far together.
(I didn't take the time to proof-read this a final time today before posting, since I only just got home from work and wanted to publish as soon as possible, for your reading pleasure. Please don't hate me for any typos.)
xxx Marcella
DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling created and owns the rights to Harry Potter. For this chapter, I used some dialogue from Chapter Twenty-Four: Occlumency of JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Anything you recognize stems from her hands. I do not profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
Monday, January 6th, 1996
When they got back to Grimmauld Place, Kingsley managed to pry Hermione out of Molly's hands who had been keen on setting the young woman to work right away, to stow away the groceries and other goods Kingsley (and Hermione, but they weren't about to tell Molly that) had brought. Agreeing to see him to the door, Hermione left the kitchen together with the Auror, promising to be back later to help Molly.
Alone in the foyer, Kingsley drew Hermione close, so that they might speak quietly, without disturbing Walburga Black.
"Be careful, princess," Kingsley begged of her. "Innocent magic is a powerful and precious thing, and you should make sure that he values your gift, whoever he is."
"I will," Hermione promised. She chewed on her lower lip for a few moments, mulling over whether she should ask the question that had been burning inside her for quite a while now. "But, say, Kingsley," she eventually asked hesitantly, "why do you call me princess?"
"Yeah, pray tell, Kingsley," a voice sounded from the background. Sirius spoke quietly, but the tenor of his voice carried well through the foyer from the stairs where he stood, watching the pair of them, without waking his mother's portrait. "Why do you call her that?"
Kingsley sighed.
"Listen, Sirius," he began, "I have no quarrel with you, so please, might I have a private conversation with Hermione here?"
"A conversation, you say," Sirius scoffed. "That's not what I would call your private business with that little witch. And if you'll kindly remember, I am the lord of this house, so anything you have to say to her, you might as well say in my presence."
"Princess?" Kingsley asked.
"If you don't mind, neither do I," Hermione replied to his unvoiced question. Her following words were dripping with sarcasm. "If the 'lord of the house' insists on infringing on his guests' privacy, then I welcome him to do so."
The Auror held her gaze for a moment, the warm look in his eyes conveying a comforting heat into Hermione's body. Then he looked up to fix Sirius under his stare, who stood behind Hermione.
"To address your assumptions about my private business with Miss Granger," he said, "I will have you know that nothing untoward happened between us – something you are unable to truthfully say of yourself. And quite frankly, I find it insulting that you think me so tasteless as to come here for one night, and one night only, shag the with, and be done with her, allowing her to seek out the arms of another man. Do you honestly think I have that little class?"
Looking down to Hermione once more, his gaze softened and his eyes darkened, until Hermione felt as if she was falling upwards into the shining blackness of his large pupils.
"Don't you know a witch as formidable as her is to be cherished?" Kingsley asked, still addressing Sirius, but speaking as if his words were intended for Hermione's ears alone. "If I had her for me, I would never dare to enter her that first night. I would kiss her body all over, taste her skin, explore her until I knew every secret her figure held. I would attend to her with my eyes and voice and lips and fingers and tongue until she was hanging on the edge of the cliff of climax, holding on for dear life. I would pry her fingers off, one by one, until she fell off, fell into orgasmic bliss, and I would be there to catch her, only to make her fall all over again.
"I would cherish her until she forgot her own name, until the only name she could remember ever having known was mine, until she was begging for a break and begging for more at the same time. And when the night was over, I would care for her, pamper her, nourish her, strengthen her body and her spirits, so that she might be prepared for the following night, when I would intensify my attentions even more."
Hermione's toes were curled in so delicious a way that it almost hurt. She was riveted by the sight of Kingsley's eyes that conveyed even more promise than his words already did, and she cursed the calendar for showing a year of date that forbid her from having him.
He wasn't quite finished, though.
"I would have her suffer pleasure of the likes she's never known before. And only when I knew she could stand what I had to give her, only then would I claim her as mine. And once she agreed to be mine, in the most precious way a witch can agree to be, I would never let her go. Never."
Her trembling must have been obvious, for Kingsley drew Hermione close to him, wrapping his strong arms around her slim form and rubbing circles into her back. Her front was to his, the Auror's body heat seeping into her smaller body, and Hermione had to tilt her head further back to hold his gaze.
"You ask why I call you princess," Kingsley now spoke directly to her, and Hermione found herself teetering on the brink in anticipation. "The truth is, Hermione Granger, that I would make you my queen if I could. But I can't, and so I'll stick to the next best thing. I'll treat you like the princess that you are, and if the time should ever be right and we're still who we are today, I'll be there, waiting for you."
Another kiss was pressed to her forehead, and it carried so much promise that Hermione found herself falling into an emotion that dared her to call it by its name.
A moment later, Kingsley Shacklebolt was out the door, and Hermione felt alone as she rarely had before.
Saturday, January 11th, 1996
The holidays had been blissfully bleak as only the Christmas holidays ever were. Amidst the world celebrating the alleged birthday of an alleged messiah, Severus had holed himself away in his dungeon realm, enjoying the silence and solitude that came with his job. Research had been a large part of his daily pastimes during these past weeks. Another part had been thanking Merlin, Morgana, and whatever grand sorcerer would listen to him for the existence of the Fidelius Charm.
The Fidelius Charm was meant to ensure that a location was kept secret, magically binding the fidelity – for wizards had never been particularly inventive when it came to naming charms – of everybody aware of the location, excepting the Secret Bearer. Most people understood the charm to work in a way to prevent people from speaking the location out loud. Of course, that was true, but far more important was that it kept them from disclosing the location at all – including mentally, via Mind Magic.
That fact had saved Severus when it had come to explaining why exactly he had skipped out on the annual Malfoy Christmas Dinner. He had been unable to avoid meeting Lucius for long, but when they had, Severus could simply say that he'd been at Order headquarters on Dumbledore's business, thus waiving the necessity to explain himself any further. For it had not been Lucius who had interrogated him: on New Year's Eve, the Dark Lord himself had posed those questions.
How exactly he had managed to suffer through the Dark Lord's questioning – meaning Legilimency scan – without disclosing any parts of his interactions with the girl, Severus could not say later. But he had survived, without any kind of punishment that was worth mentioning, and had lived to see the dawn of the new year.
1996.
Everything would change now.
"Harry dear, could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you."
Molly Weasley sticking her head into the room had Hermione and Ginny look up, wondering what the professor was doing here and why he would want to talk to Harry, when he usually did his best to avoid doing just that. Hermione especially tried her best to think of a reason that might have brought the Potions Master to Order headquarters, when he had explicitly told her that he did not expect to come here during the holidays at all. The boys, however, were still deeply immersed in their game of wizarding chess.
"Squash him – squash him, he's only a pawn, you idiot – sorry, Mrs Weasley," Harry had to ask, and Hermione wondered if boys were really that incapable of listening while thinking, "what did you say?"
"Professor Snape, dear," Mrs Weasley repeated. "In the kitchen. He'd like a word."
In her effort to determine why the professor was here, in London, at all, while still trying to follow the conversation that was slowly ensuing, Hermione lost her grip on Crookshanks, and the beast – that thought could not have been any fonder in Hermione's mind – jumped onto the chess board, making the pieces run for their lives in terror.
"Snape?" Harry echoed, if a little dumbly.
Hermione was quick to correct him, even if only by mouthing the words. Yes, Dumbledore had told her last summer that she was to stand against Harry where it came to showing Professor Snape some respect, but that did not mean that she was eager to spoil the Christmas holidays for herself – for let's face it, who else would take the blame if Harry was to boil over, over an issue as the correct form of address for a little liked teacher? – and so she kept correcting him silently.
Hermione was surprised, to say the least, to hear her mouthed words spoken aloud at the same time.
"Professor Snape, dear," Mrs Weasley admonished Harry, and Hermione felt her chest swell with a sense of affirmation. "Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long."
And the Weasley matriarch was gone from the room.
"What's he want with you?" Ron asked the question that Hermione would have loved to know the answer to, though she would have asked the Potions Master himself, rather than Harry, who obviously knew nothing about the professor's visit.
"You haven't done anything, have you?"
"No!" Harry vehemently denied the notion, and was gone from the room a few seconds later.
Hermione was proud of her best friend for facing the professor instantly, instead of unnecessarily prolonging his visit by stalling their conversation. Looking at Ron and Ginny, Hermione immediately recognized the looks on their faces as the mirror image of her own expression: they were dying to know what Professor Snape would want from Harry.
"Er – "
Eloquent as always, Severus snorted inwardly at the Potter boy's witty interruption. At least it spared him from more immediate confrontation with the mutt.
Severus had not been amused at all when the Headmaster had disclosed his plan to him to have Severus teach the brat Occlumency. Not only did it bring him into direct interaction with the boy for whom he had little hope of ever teaching about the Magic of the Mind. It also cut short the time he might avail for the girl, both for teaching and for… other things.
"Sit down, Potter," Severus snarled.
His mood had not improved when he had come to Grimmauld Place. Hoping to find the kitchen empty, other than for Molly Weasley, he had been severely disappointed to find Black there. When the mutt could not pry the reason for his coming to headquarters from Severus, he had contented himself with a heated staring contest. If it hadn't been Sirius Black, of all people, the attempt would have actually been quite amusing to Severus. After all, not many people, not even grown men, often braved a staring contest with him, and even fewer came out of it unscathed.
There had been little of interest in Black's mind, Severus had found. That was unless one found passionate worry and protectiveness towards a teenage wizard whom he had barely known for a year – discounting the years as a toddler, before Potter and Lily had been murdered by a maniac – to be of any particular interest. Severus, for his part, didn't.
"You know," Black now chimed in on the conversation, leaned back in his chair, and staring at the ceiling – so much for meeting Severus's eyes, he scoffed –, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."
Severus had to keep himself from sighing. If the mutt wanted to make things more difficult for himself, then so be it.
"I was supposed to see you alone, Potter," Severus began, not gracing the other man with an answer, "but Black –"
"I'm his godfather."
If it hadn't been apparent before that Black disliked being kept out of things, even if it were only a conversation, it surely was obvious now.
"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," Severus countered, putting emphasis on the Headmaster's name, which held some weight with this bunch of Gryffindors, "but by all means stay, Black." At this point, Severus was grinning evilly, giving in to his inner hatred that begged to be allowed to come out and play. "I know you like to feel… involved."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
There it was, Severus thought, and had to keep himself from grinning. Riling the man up had always been far too easy. One might have expected him to gain some self-control after twelve years of Azkaban, but apparently two years in freedom – meaning, on the run – had destroyed what little of that might have existed before.
"Merely that I am sure you must feel – ah –," Severus acted as if searching for the correct word, when he knew exactly how to hit Sirius Black, and hit him hard, "frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful for the Order."
He couldn't help but grin when the mutt's face took an unhealthy colour, the shade of red certainly uncommon for a human face.
"The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter," Severus continued, for now he came to the crux of his visit, "that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."
"Study what?"
Why exactly Severus had expected the boy to know what Occlumency was, he could not say. It seemed that the girl might have moved his level of expectation to a rather higher level than it had been before starting their private lessons, and he had become used to somebody using their head before speaking and actually valuing magic beyond the necessary homework readings.
"Occlumency, Potter," Severus reiterated sharply, thinking how to dumb this down so that a dunderhead like the Potter boy might understand. "The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."
"Why do I have to study Occlu – thing?" Potter queried.
That the boy would dare question Severus was already preposterous in and of itself, but for him to question an issue that Severus had absolutely no interest in was even more insulting.
"Because the Headmaster thinks it a good idea," Severus replied, his voice scathing. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"
"Yes," the boy answered, and Severus wanted to discipline him for foregoing the appropriate form of address. The only thing keeping him from that was his wish to get out of the Black family manor as quickly as possible, subsequently avoiding any talk that might unnecessarily prolong his stay at Grimmauld Place.
Well, that, and the fact that every time he thought about correcting somebody's form of address towards him brought up images of the girl asking how to properly address him while his cock was driving into her.
"Who's going to be teaching me?"
Could a single teenage boy truly be so stupid, Severus wondered. If Potter was to take lessons with somebody else, would the Headmaster have sent him, Severus, of all people? Did the boy think Severus had nothing better to do with his time? With the last Saturday of the Christmas holidays, so preciously free of students and teaching?
"I am," Severus stated, and suddenly Black was back in on the conversation.
"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" he asked, obviously incensed. "Why you?"
"I suppose," Severus bit out, "because it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks. I assure you I did not beg for the job."
Turning to the boy, Severus continued speaking to Potter: "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking Remedial Potions." A smile spread over his face, and most certainly a nasty one. "Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."
The boy seemed as if he wanted to react to that. After all, Severus had even assigned Remedial Potions to the Granger girl, and she was the best student in their Potions class. Severus, on his part, was eager to get out of number twelve, and was prepared to cut Potter's unvoiced objection off before the boy could vocalize it. Black, however, was faster.
"Wait a moment," the mutt said, calling Severus's attention.
"I am in rather a hurry, Black…" Severus said, hoping to nip whatever Black wanted to talk about in the bud. "Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time…"
"I'll get to the point, then," Black agreed, leaving his seat to stand up. To Severus's chagrin, the other man was towering over him. "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time," the mutt challenged, "you'll have me to answer to."
"How touching," Severus mocked the man. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"
"Yes, I have," the mutt readily agreed, and Severus felt a triumphant smile tug at the corners of his mouth, while also feeling slightly sick that a single man could show as much pride for something not of his own doing. He set out for the shot, aimed, and pulled the trigger with his next words.
"Well then," Severus carefully spoke, "you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him."
At that, the mutt's wand was out. Severus had to keep himself from chuckling at the poor self-constraint Black was showing, and got to his own feet as well. His hands were buried deep in his robes, one grasping his wand, prepared to defend whenever the raving dog opposite him was going to attack.
"Sirius!"
Severus wanted to laugh as he saw Potter poor attempt to hold Black back. After all, Black was a grown man, tall, and strong in his rage. Potter was none of those things.
"I've warned you, Snivellus," the mutt threatened, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better –"
"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" Severus interrupted. Where Black had been talking louder and louder, Severus himself got more and more quiet. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?"
"Tell me," Black countered, but Severus knew that there was nothing the mutt could throw at him that might hurt him in any way, "how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"
"Speaking of dogs," it was Severus's turn to strike back, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform… gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"
Black raised his wand. Severus was actually looking forward to a duel, should it come to that. That would put Black even further in his place.
"NO!" Potter tried to intervene. "Sirius, don't – "
The boy's words fell on deaf ears. The mutt was out for blood, Severus could see, and intent on getting what he wanted.
"Are you calling me a coward?" Black asked.
"Why, yes," Severus eagerly confirmed, "I suppose I am."
A little impressed at the boy's resilience, Severus watched in amusement as Potter was still struggling to keep Black from starting any actual fight that involved more than insults.
"Harry – get – out – of – it!"
It wouldn't be long until the mutt would overpower his precious godson, and Severus was ready for that, ready to defend, ready to offend, ready to show the other man what he, Severus, was truly made of.
It never came to that, though. Even if the Potter boy had been unable to hold Black back, somebody else could. The door opened.
Hermione, Ron and Ginny had been upstairs in the twins' bedroom, hoping for them to kick Bill out so that the three of them might ask for some Extendable Ears. Bill was still staying at Grimmauld Place to be close to his family while their patriarch was in hospital, healing from his wounds after the attack from Voldemort's familiar. As an Order member, Hermione and the others knew he would never condone them spying on what might potentially be Order business.
Before they got to that, though, Mrs Weasley came bursting through the door.
"Oh, good to have you all in one space, boys, Ginny," she almost shouted into the room.
Her excitement was visible, and Hermione couldn't help but mirror the smile that was splitting the elder witch's face in two. She did not know what might have made her so happy, but the fact remained that after the horrible Christmas Mrs Weasley had had, Hermione was simply glad to see her smile again. In that moment, it did not matter that she herself had been left out of the crowd the Weasley matriarch had obviously been searching for.
"Come downstairs," she ordered, "and quickly! There is somebody here to see you."
Ron and Ginny seemed a little apprehensive. It was perhaps understandable, since the last time their mother had come into a room and announced somebody had come to see one of the teenagers, that someone had been Professor Snape. On the bright side, there was no one worse that might have come to Grimmauld Place for them, and Hermione tried to convey that thought in her encouraging smile towards the two youngest Weasley siblings when Bill was ushering them down the stairs.
The Weasley children took off running, jumping down the last few steps when they saw who had come. Hermione smiled at their excitement, forgiving them instantly for pushing her to the side in their hurry to get down to the foyer. It wasn't every day that your father returned home after a near-deathly attack, after all.
What followed were words of love, eager hugs all around, and constant repeated assurances that the Weasley patriarch was, in fact, completely cured. With those words, they made their way down to the kitchen, and burst inside.
"Cured!" Mr Weasley announced his presence. "Completely cured!"
Only then, when the whole Weasley clan and Hermione had stumbled into the kitchen, did they take in the scene before them. Sirius and Professor Snape were standing face to face, the expressions on their faces murderous, if a weird mixture of slight boredom and hidden eagerness on the professor's face (although Hermione was quite certain that she was the only one to notice the latter), and their wands raised, ready for the fight.
"Merlin's beard," Mr Weasley exclaimed, "what's going on here?"
At that, the professor dropped his fighting stance, and shot Harry a last look.
"Six o'clock Monday evening, Potter," he scowled, and was out the door.
Sirius was not quite so quick to return to his usual stance, taking his time to return his wand to a non-threatening position. Hermione wanted to know what was going on, but she also realized that this might be her only opportunity to talk to the professor before the new term started.
"But what's been going on?" Mr Weasley pressed, his expression still disbelieving.
"Nothing, Arthur," Sirius tried to assure him. "Just a friendly little chat between two old school friends… So…" Hermione could see him forcing a smile onto his usually ever-smiling face, "you're cured? That's great news, really great…"
Hermione had no wish to follow the rest of the conversation, if Sirius was only turning it onto Mr Weasley. Harry would certainly tell them about his discussion with Professor Snape later. For now, she needed to get to the Potions Master before he was gone.
Severus had almost made it out the front door, when he felt somebody sneaking up behind him. Whirling around, they found themselves confronted with the tip of his wand pressing into the bridge of their nose, right between their eyes.
The Potions Master had to stifle an exasperated sigh when 'they' turned out to be the girl.
"What?" Severus snapped at her. "What is it you want this time, Miss Granger?"
When the girl made no move to open her mouth – at least not in order to speak, otherwise it was hanging open quite unattractively, although Severus couldn't help the niggling at the back of his mind that told him that the girl's mouth might be put to good use hanging open this way, attractive or not – he snarled, turned, and was almost out the front door.
Almost.
"I –" the girl began, hesitated, began anew. "I – I just – sir, can we speak, please?"
"If your definition of speaking will consist of speaking only this time, Miss Granger," Severus shot back, "speaking, and speaking only, then yes, we could speak. You have five minutes."
"Perhaps," the girl suggested, "perhaps somewhere more private would be appropriate?"
Severus graced her with the most scathing look he could muster, one that would have sent her running for her life, if the girl hadn't already turned around without waiting for his reply – he would need to train that habit out of her, Severus noted – and climbed the stairs.
Following the girl, Severus was about to chastise the girl for leading him to the same room they had been in last time, when she turned into a room a door from the bedroom he had first taken her.
This chamber turned out to be a bedroom, as well, though this one actually appeared to have people live in it. Judging from the familiarity with which the witch was moving about the room, Severus suspected that it was the space she shared with the Weasley girl.
Rummaging around in her trunk, the girl pulled a small satchel out. Severus felt his skin tingle from the wards put on it. That the girl should have erected those all by herself, without a wand, seemed rather improbable. Then again, so was her aptitude with Occlumency, and Severus had experienced that for himself.
"I had a little help with this," the girl confessed. "The outer few layers are mine, and will only come down to my magical signature –," a few seconds passed in which the girl dismantled those few wards, her face scrunched up in an expression of obvious concentration, "– but the rest should be easy enough for you to take down yourself. I must admit, those are beyond my level, but I assume you would be familiar enough with Auror level spells."
Severus raised a single eyebrow when the girl handed the satchel over to him, but accepted the satchel without vocalizing his questions.
"Yes, professor," the girl gave the information up easily, "Kingsley helped me. He knows what's inside, but he doesn't know who it's for and who was partial in creating it."
"And pray tell, Miss Granger," Severus asked, making the silkiness of his voice threatening enough to expect an honest answer from the girl, Occlumency skills or no, "what is inside?"
"Open it, sir." When he didn't react in any way, simply continued to stare at her, the girl added, "it's a Christmas presents, of sorts."
"A Christmas present," Severus echoed, mocking, "and here I was, believing we had already settled the issue of Christmas presents."
"Well," the girl held the syllable for a moment, as if that could buy her time, "I received my Christmas present from you, sir, but I had no opportunity yet to gift you something in return."
Severus felt his eyebrows rise to heights formerly unknown to them. She had not gifted him anything? What about that precious gem that lay beneath her legs, untouched by anyone but him? Had that meant nothing to her?
Having no clue as to how right he was about that precious gem, Severus simply announced, "I told you before, Miss Granger, and I will tell you again: I do not do Christmas presents."
"How about a belated birthday present then, professor?"
Severus had to swallow at the girl's audacity.
"And how would you come to know about my birthday, Miss Granger?" he asked, the threat in his voice no longer silky. There would be no caress in the danger that the girl was bravely, if rather stupidly, traipsing into.
"Professor McGonagall told me."
"You asked your Head of House for my date of birth?"
Severus had a way of getting quieter and quieter, until people who were facing his wrath had to strain their ears to hear what exact danger they were in. This was one of those instances.
"Of course," the girl replied, seemingly unfazed by the fury blazing in the Potions Master's eyes.
"Of course?" Severus echoed hollowly. "Are you trying to get us exposed, Miss Granger?"
'Before things have properly started,' he wanted to add, but contented himself with only thinking those words.
The girl seemed to come to herself, and to the realization that she might have misspoken.
"Oh no, sir," she hastened to assure him, "no, I did no such thing! Of course I would not want you to be exposed."
Severus noted how she only spoke about him, as if the girl had no sense of self-preservation. Then again, to be such close friends with the Boy Who Lived To Get His Friends In Mortal Danger, one probably needed to rid oneself of one's sense of self-preservation beforehand.
"I asked her years ago," the girl elaborated, "back in my first year, when I was still eager to please every one of my teachers. I asked her about every member of the staff, even down to Mr Filch. I just – I just wanted to please, back then."
"Like with unnecessary essays on the Twelve Uses of Dragon Blood?" Severus asked before his mind had any chance to filter the words.
The girl's eyes went wide in surprise at his question, rhetorical or not.
"You still remember that?"
Severus scoffed.
"I still have that," he muttered, though the words must have been inaudible for the girl, for there was no further reaction from her.
"Now, what is this?" he demanded to know of the girl, holding up the little satchel she had handed him, dismantling the wards surrounding it with ease. No, Auror level spells were no hindrance for the practiced double agent.
"Open it, sir," the girl breathed.
Upending the satchel so that its contents would fall into his other hand, Severus beheld the heavy item within.
"It's a watch," he stated.
The absence of emotion in his voice must have made the girl uneasy, for she countered, "Not just any watch, professor."
"A muggle watch, then," Severus assessed, taking a closer look. Turning it over, he noticed the hole in the back, "and a faulty one as well, I see."
"Not faulty," the girl denied, "merely customized to unusual demands. Open the back, if you will, sir."
Opening the back lid, Severus found the mechanic innards of the watch moved into a ring clinging to the inside edges of the watch. In the middle sat a black gemstone, tetrahedral in shape, one corner pointing towards him.
The magic was palpable.
"And what is this?" Severus asked, though the question was directed at nobody in particular. If his voice sounded slightly breathy, there was no way around that, and Severus had no mental capacity free to think on that, for his mind was set onto the energetic pulsing of the precious stone.
"It is a blood diamond," the girl's voice penetrated the haze around Severus's mind, bringing him back to the present. "I created it the night we – the night you – when you last came to headquarters, sir."
"And what am I to do with his, Miss Granger?"
"Wear it," the girl pressed. "Wear it, sir, at all times and in direct contact to your skin, and its magic will protect you."
"Protect me," Severus echoed, his voice sounding as hollow as his mind felt, "protect me how?"
"Innocent magic is rather powerful, sir," the girl explained, as if that fact needed explaining. "Compressed as it is in this blood diamond that you helped me create, it will absorb most destructive magic directed at you. Well, there are no exact records on that," she admitted, "but it appears that the blood diamond will keep you from dying in many instances when the magic you were targeted with would be enough to kill you. It won't save you pain and it won't help your healing, but it will keep you alive, if only it touches your skin when you're hit."
Severus had no words to that. Never had anybody seen fit to gift him such a precious token, such a powerful and invaluable one. He knew not what to say.
"And there's more," the girl added.
"More?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "I put a Protean charm on the clock-face. The numbers will change to ancient Nordic runes when I contact you," she elaborated, "decrypting themselves for your eyes only, but indecipherable to anyone else. The watch will heat slightly, so you can't miss the message, and the runes will change back to the usual numbers after seven seconds."
Severus was taken aback. The Protean charm was NEWT level charms, and even then, only few students were capable of casting it correctly. To tweak the charm to include an encryption was beyond impressive, especially for a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, and a muggle-born one at that.
"Why?" he croaked, not knowing what else to say.
"Why?" the girl repeated, slight disbelief in her eyes, though her respect for him seemed to hold a more obvious expression of it back. "You told me to find a way to anonymously and safely communicate with you, sir. This is it."
Ah yes, Severus remembered. The girl wished to call on him when she was in need. The idea in and of itself sent a heat to his loins that cut through the haze around his mind, arousing him to a degree that he once more had to thank his billowing robes for the cover they lent him. Much as he wanted to possess the girl once more, this was neither the time nor the place to do so. Certainly not the place. He was no old lecher who took pleasure in shagging young girls in their childhood beds, in a room they shared with an even younger female friend. Come to think on it, he was no old lecher who took pleasure in shagging young girls, period. The girl was no longer a girl anymore, but had progressed into a woman long ago. Severus himself had seen to that.
"And how will you know when I reject you?" Severus asked, his tone scathing once more.
The girl recoiled from the malice in his eyes.
"I have a matching locket," the girl offered.
Her hand went into the V-neck of her shirt, and Severus forced his eyes not to bulge at the casual gesture. The girl pulled a locket from her décolleté and opened it to reveal the clock-face that lay within.
"It is keyed to your watch," she explained, "charmed the same way, to only display ancient Nordic runes, and to change back to numerals after seven seconds. You just need to answer in the usual way of connected Protean objects, and I will know."
Silence fell between them for a few moments. Deciding there was nothing more to be said, Severus let the watch fall back into the satchel and warded it heavily.
"Please, sir," the girl called to him softly, "will you keep it? Wear it?"
Severus scowled.
"We will see, Miss Granger," he replied without truly answering. "Good evening, Miss Granger."
Her muttered 'Good evening, sir' was almost too far away to hear, as Severus hurriedly left the room, descended the stairs, and was finally out of Grimmauld Place and subsequently out of the girl's presence.
Coming up: Chapter thirty-one, wherein no familiar form of address is offered, but eggplant is tossed about.