Chapter 5: Trouble in Class
Keeping the secret of her soul mate from Harry and Ron hadn't been easy for Hermione, though she admitted it was completely necessary, given Harry's feelings towards the professor. After meeting with Severus, she had gone to the library and hidden to study in a corner, coming out when a reasonable amount of time had passed. When Harry asked what Snape had made her do, Hermione only shrugged and snorted. "His favorite detention is cauldron scrubbing. What else would he assign? Unfortunately I let my emotions get out of hand and have to go back Thursday." She muttered under her breath so they would think she was angry about the return trip.
"Greasy git was just looking for excuses," Harry said with a glower. "Making you meet him to discuss your private mail that you got during breakfast. It wasn't like you were disturbing his classes. What was the letter, anyway? You didn't say."
Hermione shrugged and shook her head. She had spent a considerable amount of time in the library trying to figure out how to explain the meeting after avoiding the question all day. "I sent a message to a potion maker asking about a theory I've been playing with. He was angry I hadn't brought the question to him, though he'd probably have told me to quit asking so many questions."
"Too right. Well, sit down and pull out your Transfiguration homework; I'm sure you're feeling way behind." Harry indicated a squashy armchair beside him. Hermione doubted his motives were entirely pure. She was well aware he hadn't gotten to the two-foot assignment yet.
Still, if it took everyone's attention off her business that night, she couldn't complain. She glanced across the room to where Ginny sat with Dean and wished she could confide in the girl. They had grown fairly close while spending summers and holidays together.
Hermione was desperate to tell someone, but had no one with whom she dared discuss a subject like this. She was in love, even if it was the greasy git who now taught Defense. Just what was it that Severus—that was the only way she could think of him now—had meant when he said I would soon hate him? It took a great deal of self control to keep her focus on homework instead of letting it float wherever. Most of wherever pertaining to the man living in the dungeons.
*****
As the time for her DADA class approached the next day, she grew more and more anxious. I have to keep my feelings for him tucked away. No one must guess, she told herself. She worried even the interminably clueless Ron would have no trouble sensing something was off. Hermione bit her lip as she entered the classroom and only allowed her glance to slide over Severus before focusing on her chair and putting one foot before the next.
Silent spell casting had been a challenge, but Hermione was doing better than ever with it. At least she had been during the previous lesson. Now she wasn't sure she could focus enough to cast Wingardium Leviosa aloud, never mind complicated dueling silently. It had taken everything in her to make it through that morning's Transfiguration lesson, and having him so close would only exacerbate the problem.
Severus slammed the door across the room closed with a wave of his wand. "Bring your homework to the front, then separate into groups. We will continue with casting the Jelly-Legs Jinx again, silently. Anyone who manages that feat repeatedly will move up to Bat-Bogey Hex. After the abysmal performance of last class, I hope to see some improvement. Get to it."
Harry was paired with Seamus and Hermione with Ron. She managed to cast her shielding charm a few times, but Ron had only successfully produced the jinx once without muttering the words under his breath. When they switched, Hermione found Severus circling around behind her. She could practically feel his breath in her hair, though she knew he wasn't that close. Her concentration was shot with just his presence behind her—not that she'd much to begin with. Sweat slicked her hands and made it difficult to grip her wand, and the longing to touch him seemed to be spiraling upward and out of control.
"Come, Miss Granger, does the little Miss Know-It-All have trouble from time to time? You can't recite this out of a book, can you?" His voice was low and seductive with the cutting edge of taunting to it.
She gritted her teeth, but couldn't see straight; her attention was not on Ron.
Severus grasped her by the shoulders, allowing his right thumb to trail down the side of her neck beneath her hair where no one would see. He turned her and pointed to her opponent, Ron. "Hex him, Miss Granger. Quit going easy on him." The combination of his hidden caress and his snarky professor attitude gave her chills. Then in a much lower tone intended only for her ears she heard, "Just imagine he's one of the twins."
His silky tone and the centering power of his touch, coupled with that image, helped Hermione to focus. Ron didn't stand a chance. Unfortunately, what came out was not the Jelly-Legs Jinx, but a far less comfortable itching jinx. Hermione let it fester on Ron's skin for several seconds before realizing what she had done and ending the jinx. "Sorry Ron." He's only been out of the hospital wing for a couple of hours as it is. Poor Ron, probably thinks I sent him itching because I was mad at Severus. She had to hold back a grin at that thought. The feeling in her chest seemed to grow warmer until she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep her smile at bay. Severus removed his hands with another soft touch across her skin and moved away.
"That was . . . acceptable, though it wouldn't hurt you to stay within the syllabus, Miss Granger." His voice had returned to its usual acerbic tone. "But don't imagine in a real duel you will have time to plan and focus. There is no room for mistakes, even for Potter's friends. Back to work, everyone."
Hermione glanced around and realized half the class had been watching. How humiliating to be used as an example in class. Of course, she wouldn't have been able to catch Ron out at all if Severus hadn't touched her, so maybe the humiliation was worth it. She returned her attention to Ron and repeatedly hit him with the correct jinx. It was amazing how much easier it was when she pictured Fred or George's face in his place.
******
Hermione found herself walking those familiar steps back to Severus's office again the next night, trepidation and anticipation both rising inside her. Since the DADA class the previous day, she had been unable to speak to or get near him, and she had felt the growing tug on her psyche as the day continued. Now she was almost frantic with the need to see him.
When she arrived at the classroom, she stopped in the doorway and blinked. There was a student already scrubbing cauldrons at the sink. Her eyes flit over to her professor as she wondered how on earth they would manage to have a private discussion in the midst of a detention.
"Come here, Miss Granger, or don't you wish to borrow that book after all? McGonagall insisted I lend it to you." He sneered convincingly, and she made her way to his desk, from which he rose and headed toward his attached office. "I'll only be a minute, Robins, and I expect to see you still working hard when I return. Follow me, Miss Granger, it's in my office."
Hermione followed him into the office and nearly gasped aloud when he shut the door behind them, then pulled her into his arms for a desperate kiss. His fingers slid from where they gripped her shoulder so that one cradled the back of her head and the other raced down her back to pull her body fully against his. The power of the connection was turned way up from the previous kisses, though Hermione would have sworn that wasn't possible, but the length was lamentably shorter. She had only delved her fingers into his hair when he ended it. He pulled away and lifted his hand to her hair, running his fingers down to rest them on her shoulder. "I wish it could be more, but I forgot about this detention tonight. You don't look too mussed."
She may not have looked it, but she felt it. She lifted a hand to her kiss-swollen lips and couldn't quite hold back a smile, though she felt herself panting. "Yes, sir." She really didn't know what she was saying; between the power of the kiss and the shock of the almost tenderness in his voice, she felt like her world had turned upside down.
He reached for something small and book-shaped that was wrapped in brown paper. "Take this with you there's a note inside that will explain everything. But first, lay your palm on it." His voice was flat and controlled now, the complete opposite of a few seconds earlier. Reeling from the inconsistency of it, she followed his directions, and he whispered something under his breath, touching the back of her hand with his wand. She felt the tingle of magic ride through her system, then looked back at him.
"Well, don't just stand there, my dear, take the package and leave before I lock us both in here, and Mr. Robins is left to wonder what happened to us." His voice was harsh, but when she looked up into his eyes, she could see he was fighting the enchantment at least as hard as she was. After only a second's deliberation over whether to follow directions or follow her own desire to reinstate their kiss, she grabbed the book. Before she could turn away, however, he placed a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her close for one more, firm kiss.
Released, she blinked at him for a couple seconds, then turned and left the office, heading back through the classroom where the student was making good progress on the nasty, stained cauldron.
Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who haunted the first-floor girls' lavatory, was thankfully absent when Hermione arrived. She secluded herself in the stall where she had made the Polyjuice Potion in her second year, then opened the package, finding a diary and a parchment covered in Severus's spidery writing.
Miss Granger,
I regret that my detention will keep us from being able to discuss circumstances this evening, but this should alleviate the problem. The Headmaster knows about the situation and has given us tentative permission to carry on as we are doing. I have charmed two diaries to copy each other, the one you hold and the one in my possession. I have further charmed them to be unreadable to anyone besides ourselves. If anyone other than you opens your diary, they will see nothing but notes about class with possible inanities about life as a student. Mine will look like Potions notes to anyone but me, as I am still doing some work in that area. This way we can keep in contact with one another and arrange meetings without drawing unwanted attention to ourselves. I understand that conversation will work to satisfy the situation to some extent, and though I am not a man of many words, or at least not pleasant ones, I thought we might try and see if the diaries help satisfy the potion when we can't be together.
I will keep my diary on my person at all times so that in the event . . . well, you'll understand when that happens. We have much to do to overcome the Dark Lord. Do not forget that I am always on your side regardless of what circumstances may appear to be. And I hope when the time comes that you may forgive me. In any case, let me know you have tried the diary, and we can try and set something up for later. Until then,
Yours,
SS
Hermione was puzzled and concerned about these additional hints about how she would grow to hate him. She couldn't imagine a circumstance that would bring that on, not if he was really on the side of right. He swore he was fighting for their side. She returned to the library and sat down with the boys to study, secreting the note in her robe pocket with the intent to burn it at the first opportunity—if she could bring herself to do so. It wouldn't do for anyone else to see it, even if it was her first missive from her soul mate.
That evening after completing her Transfiguration homework, Hermione pulled out her copy of the diary. Harry and Ron sat nearby discussing their Charms assignment, which they had predictably put off until the last possible moment. Ginny was by Harry's side with her own school work propped on her knees.
"Come on, Hermione. You've finished your work, so you can help us," Ron whinged as Hermione tucked her feet beneath her and settled into the corner of the squashy sofa.
She didn't look up as she spoke, but opened her diary to the first page instead. "It's not my fault you chose to waste your time with games of wizard chess instead of studying when you had all that free time recovering." She wasn't sure what to start out with, never having owned a diary of any kind, never mind one that Severus Snape would be reading. Then the worry niggled at her: what if something was wrong with the charm or if she had misunderstood Severus? She resolved to write a few innocuous lines first, to make sure it was working properly, but nothing that looked like more than notes to herself. And if they had the bonus of raising Severus's blood pressure a little, that might make things interesting, anyway.
The study of Potions is one of the senses. And much like personal relationships. The student must employ every sense: the feel of the ingredients in her fingers as she prepares for the potion, the fingertips smoothing, caressing, testing. The scent of ingredients making a chemical reaction—sandalwood and myrrh combined. She paused for a moment when she wrote that, analyzed her memory of his personal scent again to determine if she had caught it, then continued on.
The taste of melding flavors on the air, picking them up on the skin. Sight is used to determine doneness, readiness for the next step, and the sound of the potion coming to a boil, bubbling in the pot slowly, then faster until it gradually reaches completion.
Wondering if what she had written would draw the attention she had hoped for, she re-read it. It was rather cheesy, but under the circumstances, she didn't dare be more bold. Then she passed it to Ginny and asked for her opinion.
"I don't know why you're taking notes on the Crumpled-Horned Snorkak, but I suppose that's your choice." Ginny shook her head and passed it back. "Are you feeling OK? You've been acting strange lately."
"Yeah, I'm fine." Hermione tried to look like she knew what Ginny was talking about, then looked back at the diary as more writing appeared in the book. This time in his handwriting.
What is that inanity?
Sorry, I was checking it out. Ginny thought I was taking notes on the Krumpled Horned Snorkak though, so it looks like we're working well. She wondered if what she'd written had affected him. Glancing back at her words, she felt slight arousal of her own.
Did you doubt my Charms abilities? I'm really very offended, Miss Granger.
Oh please, in this one place where no one else can intrude, could we drop the formality? We are soul mates. I long to hear you say my name again.
Romantic nonsense. When did I ever say your name?
She blushed at the memory. During that first interview. I don't believe either of us was thinking clearly at the time.
Hmm, yes. I suppose, under the circumstances, I could call you by your given name, Hermione. But you will call me Master.
In your dreams, she wrote with a snort. It seemed unreal that Severus Snape could possibly have joked with her, but his response confirmed that he had.
Precisely. But the rest of the time I suppose you may call me Severus. If you slip up in front of anyone else, you'll be scrubbing floors with Filch for a week. Do you understand me?
Completely. Severus.
Chapter 6: Secret Meeting
Every day Hermione wrote something in her diary, and occasionally she and Severus would continue in the same back-and-forth banter. She couldn't believe how easy it was to talk with him on paper. After their short conversations—sometimes questions, sometimes laughing at something in class, and other times just observations about life—she found herself better able to focus on homework.
They made plans to meet Sunday afternoon in his quarters, and Hermione debated whether she should ask to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak. Of course, if she borrowed it, Harry would want to know what she was doing, where she was going. And if he didn't like her answer, he might look on the map to see where she had gone. That was a chance she didn't dare take. Better to let him believe she was going to study somewhere. She just hoped he wouldn't spend the afternoon looking for Malfoy on the map and accidentally catch her out.
That left a question of how she would get to Severus's rooms without detection. After spending several hours searching the library Friday night, she decided a basic Disillusionment Charm would work best. She hurried to her room to practice in private. 'Lav-Lav' would be far away, as the annoying girl had been avoiding Hermione ever since she found out Ron had spoken to Hermione in the hospital wing, while he kept pretending to be asleep whenever Lavender went up. Honestly, Hermione no longer cared what her annoying roommate did with or without Ron, as long as she did it somewhere else. And as Hermione had just seen Parvati in the library, she would most likely have a while to perfect the charm.
A few minutes' practice was enough to ensure that Hermione could perform both the spell and the counter spell effectively, and she settled down in bed to read ahead for her Potions class before sleep.
Accordingly that Sunday afternoon, she left the common room and walked down a nearby corridor where she could ensure a moment of privacy and cast her Disillusionment Charm. Then she cast Muffliato on herself so others wouldn't hear her footsteps, then headed toward the dungeons. She knew she got after the boys for using Muffliato when they were in class or in the common room, but the spell did have its uses. Hermione figured she would keep that fact to herself for the time being, however.
It took more than ten minutes to arrive at Severus's office door. She looked both directions, then ended the muffling spell before raising her hand to knock. After a long moment, the door opened and Severus stood before her in all his black-clad, scowling glory.
His expression was one of deep suspicion as he looked through her and off to each side.
He blinked and looked right at her, then stepped back to allow her through the door. "Best come in."
When the door closed, she tapped herself on the head and shivered as the spell dissipated. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to that feeling," she said with a shiver. "How did you know it was me?"
He crossed his hands over his chest and gave her a long look, but said nothing.
"What?" She touched her hair and straightened her skirt, wondering what he was staring at. "Is something wrong?" She could feel the longing to touch him begin to grow inside her.
He let out a long breath. If it had been anyone else, Hermione would have sworn it was a sigh, but Severus Snape would never have sighed. "Yes. You look like a school girl. Do you know how much it irritates me to be in lust with a school girl? It goes against everything I've ever believed in."
"In lust?" It was frustrating to have such a shallow word applied to such deep feelings.
"What else do you call it? It's all hormones and enchantments." Though his look of disgruntlement didn't change, he took a step toward her.
"You have a point." She hated to admit it. After all, it felt so much like true love, it was made to feel like true love, but she didn't even know the man. Of course, she respected him, and just lately she'd found him wildly attractive, senselessly attractive—okay, sexy as all get out. But she didn't know anything about his personality that was the least bit attractive. Well, beside his wicked-funny sense of humor and apparent ability to hold reasonable conversation when they wrote each other. Those had to count for something, if very little. Still, she took a step closer. "I can't say I'm upset that you don't routinely fall for your students. It would make things rather uncomfortable if you did." With his next controlled step in her direction, she marveled she could hold a train of thought with him so near.
"I always have a point." He slid his hands inward along her shoulders and pulled her to him, slowly, every so slowly, pulling her near. Then his lips touched hers and her brain disengaged.
His lips were soft and sure, tantalizing, enchanting, numbing her to everything except for the points where their bodies touched. Then his kisses grew firmer and he parted her lips to taste her. That seemed to be both their undoing, and everything whirled into sensations of hands and fingers, mouths, teeth, tongue and the long length of his body pressed against her own. The sensation grew and multiplied as Hermione fought to keep up, warred against her spiraling reactions as she wondered which of them was more desperate.
She felt his fingers crawling up the loosening buttons of the demure, white school shirt she wore beneath her school robes—robes that somehow seemed to be missing. The question of missing robes seemed completely unimportant, however, as her fingers struggled with the buttons of his vest and finally with his own white shirt.
About the time his lips trailed from her collar bone, down along the swell of her breasts, she managed to get the first few lower buttons on his shirt undone. She splayed her fingers along his chest beneath the cotton. When one hand glided up her side and over her ribs, she moaned out, "Severus."
He stiffened, paused for a split second, pressed and held a kiss to the side of her throat, then, impossibly, pulled away. His hands seemed to hang in the air where they had been touching her body before he turned toward the wall and took in a deep, shaky breath.
"Why did you stop?" She let her hands fall to her sides, feeling bereft.
"If I hadn't stopped now, I wouldn't have stopped at all." He turned back to face her, straightening his shirt and beginning to return his buttons to their previous arrangement. His eyes, however, roamed over her disheveled state, pausing to linger over her bosom.
"And would that have been so bad?" She didn't bother to do up any buttons, but wrapped her shirt around her, holding it closed by crossing her arms in front of her body.
"Yes. We have things to discuss. I believe it was only a couple days ago you were saying you weren't ready to go that far." His fingers were now finished with their work, and he hesitated, then walked over to her, separated her arms and as she showed no signs of doing so, began to rebutton her shirt himself. He was back in full Professor Snape persona now, all business, and his touch was clinical. At least Hermione thought so until, when finished, he allowed a couple fingers to caress her collar bone before stepping back.
"I may have changed my mind by now," she said. She felt like her brain had melted into a puddle of lust and she would give nearly anything to return to their former activity.
"Even so, we need to talk before we go any further, and I will not allow your teenage, potion-effected hormones to make decisions you aren't prepared for. Not yet, anyway." Severus turned and walked over to the book shelves, removed a book near the middle of the second shelf, and the wall opened to reveal a door. He placed a hand on it and muttered something she couldn't hear, and the door opened. "My rooms are through here. I would rather conduct this conversation is more comfort and certainly more privacy as I sometimes get visitors to my office." He gestured for her to go through, and Hermione stepped into his private quarters.
The rooms were little different from the student facilities, besides being a bit more spacious and holding more book shelves for his collection. The room was a bit cluttered, but the house-elves obviously took care to keep it clean. His orderly mind was reflected in the perfect organization of the books she could see from where she stood. Her expectations of green and silver everything covered in snakes were misplaced she realized, though the forest green and blue furnishings, generously augmented with black accents, suited him. There was a chess game set up on a side table along one wall.
Severus seemed to see her eyes light on the table and said, "Occasionally I play a match against the Headmaster or even, on rare occasions, Professor McGonagall." Hermione lifted a brow at him, copying his usual expression of disbelief. He smirked. "We get along quite well when we aren't arguing over who started the last fight between your friends and Malfoy's bruisers—the bullying prats."
That comment surprised Hermione. "But I thought you liked Malfoy."
His expression was sardonic. "Friendships with people in power can come in handy, Hermione. Sometimes you have to play the odds, even if you do get stuck dealing with arseholes from time to time. Part of being a good spy is knowing who to play nice with. And Mr. Potter could always use a bit of chastening, which makes coddling Malfoy a bit more bearable."
"That was a rather generous description of the Malfoys, though. Right foul lot of evil prats if you ask me."
He lifted an eyebrow, and amusement played at the corner of his lips and in his eyes. "Quite. Take a seat, will you?" He gestured, wand in hand, to the sofa sitting before the fire, and the fire flared to life. "We didn't get much of a chance to talk at our last meeting. Though I could have used the diary to discuss the situation, I thought face-to-face might be better."
Hermione walked over and settled on the edge of the sofa. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands or how to act. The whole situation was so unreal and awkward, and hormones were still stirring through her blood from their kisses. If she hadn't caught an occasional flash of desire in his eyes as well, she would think he had turned his emotions completely off. He has been a spy for two decades. He has to be able to master his reactions, she reminded herself.
"Tea?" he asked.
"Yes, please." It would give her something to do with her hands, if nothing else.
Severus pulled out his wand and waved it a bit. A tea set appeared before them and he began to pour out. "I spoke with the Headmaster after our discussion Tuesday night. He apprised me of some school rules I hadn't been aware of before." He met her eyes, then blew over his cup of tea, focusing on the brown liquid before him. "Apparently it is fine for a teacher and student to be involved romantically so long as there is a binding in place."
Hermione all but coughed up her tea at his words. "A binding. As in marriage?" She hadn't planned on marrying for years yet. A decade, even. Of course, she realized the potion would make staying single for so long impractical, as so much time spent apart would undoubtedly cause frustration and difficulty. But the way he spoke. . . "Not right away, though."
"You mean like tomorrow? No. But Albus has requested before things become . . . desperate," there was that word again, "that we make that step. Of course, that gives us a little leeway. But I think it unrealistic to put the day off for long. Already I find it difficult to pull back. And your reactions speak for themselves."
Hermione couldn't speak, part of her thrilled at the prospect of marrying this man, but the rest of her revolted. She was too young, he was too difficult, and things were too uncertain. It was all completely ludicrous, but she couldn't dismiss it out of hand. School rules were a compelling reason to take it all seriously. And, of course, the potion was pushing them very firmly in that direction.
After giving her a moment to consider his words, he spoke up. "Marriage is a very serious step, regardless of whatever artificial means have been employed to bring this about. It increases the personal danger for both of us. This is a war, Hermione, and word of a personal relationship between us can mean death to either of us—possibly with a very long, painful bout of torture beforehand. What is going on between us must remain perfectly secret unless or until I can manage to make certain parties aware in a light that will please them. Even then, I prefer to live my life quietly, without fanfare, which is the safest course under the circumstances."
"You mean Voldemort, of course."
He hissed. "Don't say his name, not around me. If you value my life, and by extension your own, do me this one favor." His face was black and threatening.
"I will try not to speak it around you."
"I would appreciate it." He took several swallows of his drink, then placed the cup and saucer on the table before them. "I will reset the wards to recognize you, but I must ask that you not come here except when we have an appointment or in case of emergency. I wouldn't want to draw extra attention to our relationship."
"Okay, Severus." She set her own cup down, not interested in finishing it, and turned toward him.
He pulled her into his chest and dropped a kiss on her forehead, then leaned back against the arm of the chair with her snuggled against him. "Excuse me, I want to talk, but I feel drawn to hold you." The words sounded as though he was pained to speak them, confused that he could even feel such a thing. When she was settled in place, his voice returned to normal. "Perhaps it may alleviate some of the distraction in our brains as well. I cannot always touch you to help you focus in my class. It was risky enough to do once. Now, about that question you had on the infusion of wormwood used instead of the powdered form."
Hermione was dazed. She was snuggling with Severus Snape, the unapproachable, unlovable, evil git of the dungeon, and he was all but inviting her to ask all the questions she wanted.
Surely the world was about to come to an end.
She smiled to herself and proceeded to discuss the matter thoroughly before they continued onto other subjects.