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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Neville beamed at her when she entered the Room of Requirement once more. Several couples had already returned and were milling about the room, chatting amiably.
"You're just in time. I'll pop through to Madam P's and chase down the stragglers. By my count, there are still five missing."
"Five? I'd have thought that all numbers would be divisible by two."
"Not when the Poppington-Sykes twins are involved," said Neville. "I'm told they share everything. See you, Hermione!" he said, disappearing through the door.
The students were eyeing her with undisguised interest, and she did her best to radiate the sort of frosty professionalism that she'd needed to cultivate in Department of Mysteries, where single men were common and single women rare. The room kindly provided her with a rack of current scholarly journals. She selected the dullest-looking of the bunch, Analytical and Numerical Approaches to Problems in Arithmantic Analysis, and sat at a table in the corner, far away from her admirers.
Fortunately, the students appeared to have better things to do, and she soon found herself alone in the room. She returned the journal to the rack and stood, addressing the room.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she said, "and I'm here to uncover some of the school's secrets. You might remember me from a few years ago, when I helped start Dumbledore's Army."
She fancied that the room became stiller than it had been, but it was probably her imagination. "I've invented something that lets me see how spells are made," she continued. "I'd really like to understand how this room works, particularly how it connects to other areas of the castle. So if it's all right with you, I'd like to run some tests."
No objection was forthcoming, and Hermione stepped in front of the SMAC portal. "I know Neville will need this door to get back to Hogwarts, but at the very worst, he'll end up in the potions classroom. I'm going to focus on a room and will it to appear. If this isn't how the room works, then please find some way of letting me know."
She closed her eyes and thought about the SMAC she'd created in the wall of her bathroom. She pictured the self-fluffing towels and the decadent bathtub, and she smelled the lilac-scented bubbles that she'd added to the hot water that pulsed so deliciously around her. Bearing these images firmly in mind, she opened the door a crack.
To her chagrin, it was not her bathroom. However, it allowed her an excellent view of the subject that had occupied her thoughts while in the bathtub. As if on cue, Severus laid his quill down beside the parchment he was marking, released his hair from the elastic that he used to tie it back, and raised his arms to the ceiling, his shoulders admonishing him with loud pops. He lay his head back, which allowed his long hair to trail uninterrupted down his back. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the shining river of his hair, which was shot through with occasional strands of silver.
Hermione pursed her lips, and forced herself to close the door. As arresting as the sight had been, it was hardly a success in terms of controlling the Room of Requirement. She suspected her failure was due to choosing a location so closely tied to her distracting thoughts. Something more neutral would be required.
This time when she closed her eyes, she pictured the back room at Madam Puddifoot's, from the ancient wooden floor to the golden figures that filled every nook. She imagined the students there, laughing, and kissing one another, their fingers and mouths made warm by fragrant tea served by the pot. She let out a sigh and raised her hand to the doorknob once more.
She was startled and somewhat annoyed to find that the door still connected her to the door she'd connected to Severus's classroom. He had tied his hair back into its neat queue and was still bent over his desk. But to Hermione's surprise, while his right hand was busy scrawling vituperative comments on the essay that topped the stack, his left hand was scratching- no, rubbing- his left thigh. To her surprise, his hand dipped between his legs, and he let out a contented sigh.
Alarmed, Hermione closed the door as quickly and quietly as possible. She scowled at the room around her, which had surreptitiously generated a plush-looking chaise lounge nearly identical to the one she had found off the Slytherin common room.
"That's enough of that," she informed the room sternly.
The lights dimmed in response, and a large, impossibly soft-looking fur rug of some sort appeared on the floor.
Hermione once again forced herself to think of liquorice allsorts instead of the delicious combination of images that her imagination conjured for her. Her face was red with frustration. "Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered. "It's difficult enough for me to feign indifference as it is."
The room made no response, other than to raise the lights enough that she was able to return to Analytical and Numerical Approaches to Arithmantic Problems in Analysis. Grateful for at least that small return to normalcy, she sat down in the chaise, which was even more comfortable than she remembered. On an impulse, she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks and sat back with a contented sigh. However, she found upon opening the journal that the room had replaced the figures in the journal with highly erotic content, all of which featured dark-haired, sylph-like men with long, shapely legs.
She threw the journal across the room, where it hit the door with a loud crack. There was a loud exclamation of surprise from behind the door, and the door opened wide enough to admit Neville's face, which wore an expression of trepidation. Hermione was immediately sorry she'd let her temper get the better of her.
"All right, Hermione?" he asked, stepping quickly into the room. "What happened? We thought we were under attack for a moment."
"It's all right," she said, picking up the journal from the floor. "I just vehemently disagreed with the findings of an article, that's all."
Neville held open the door for the five missing students, including the Poppington-Sykes twins, who sported mirror-image love bites on their necks. Neville watched them go, glowing with avuncular pleasure.
"Young love's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" he asked with a pleased sigh. He sat down to a cup of tea that the room had obligingly set out for him.
"I wouldn't know," said Hermione crossly. She wouldn't have accepted a cup of the room's tea if it had offered it to her, as it would probably contain some sort of aphrodisiac.
"Being surrounded by it makes me feel young again," said Neville in a dreamy voice, as if he hadn't heard her.
"You're hardly old, Neville."
"Yes, yes, I'm in my prime, so they tell me," he said. "But I envy these children all the same. They've never known war. They haven't lost parents to Voldemort or had to scramble for their lives before they turn seventeen."
"But that's how it should be," said Hermione with a sigh.
"I know," said Neville, smiling softly. "Maybe that's why I enjoy making things lovely for them so much."
"Or perhaps it's because you're a better person than any of us."
Neville's cheeks turned pink. "Now you're being silly."
She squeezed his hand. "No, I'm not."
They sat in comfortable silence while Neville finished his tea.
At last he stood, a plate of chocolate biscuits appeared on the table, as if the room were inviting him to stay longer. He smiled at the plate, but shook his head, and the plated winked out of existence.
Hermione's jaw dropped at the casual display of Neville's mastery. "How on earth do you get the room to do what you want?"
"That's easy. I don't."
"But you managed to make it unassailable for months!" she exclaimed. "We couldn't even hold it against the Inquisitorial Squad when we were holding D.A. meetings."
"The room must have known that it was important to be discovered," said Neville, walking towards the door to the outside hallway. "And in retrospect, it was right. You managed to put Umbridge out of commission for nearly a year with that stunt you pulled. I guess the room is nice to me because I don't try to control it. I just let it have its way."
Hermione glanced at the cover of the journal in front of her and quickly turned it over, because the illustration on the cover had transformed into a nude picture of a pale and dark-eyed man. "I can't tell you how sorry I am to hear that," she said.
"Well, I'm off to change," said Neville. "Do you have any special plans for the evening?" asked Neville. "Molly hasn't given you anything awful to do, has she?"
"Thankfully, no," she replied. "I get the feeling that she would have if she weren't so invested in the success of our supposed relationship."
"Unless the relationship involves toys," added Nevile wryly. "In that case, I'll stay out of sight so you can say you're meeting me if she tries to make things difficult for you."
"Thanks, Neville," she said with a wry smile. 'I think this is a Valentine's Day that I'll remember as the night I had a hot soak in the tub and went to bed early."
"That sounds wonderful," said Neville opening the door for her. "Besides, if you can't love yourself, how can you hope to love anybody else? Oh, don't forget your journal."
Rather than call undue attention to the offending publication, Hermione rolled it into a tight cylinder and shoved it under her arm. "I believe you may be right about that, Neville."
"Don't worry," he said, strolling down the hall. "I won't let it go to my head."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The bottle of wine that Fleur had given her was chilling in an ice bucket that Barbra had been delighted to provide. The bathroom was lit with Flourish and Blott's Extra-Brite Reading Candles, the tub was full of gardenia-scented water. Hermione had discovered an ancient Victrola in a storeroom, and the music of Billie Holiday suffused the air with warmth as much as the steam that rose from the water. The altered publication from the Room of Requirement lay atop the pile of books that she'd placed next to the tub.
It would have been absolutely perfect had the Galleon in her pocket not chosen that moment to heat up, indicating that a message had arrived. Cursing, she held the coin next to one of the candles.
Vital that you come to Mme. P's at once. - N.
She sighed. A conspirator's work was never done. She put out the candles with a bit more force than was necessary and nearly put away the wine. Then she thought better of it; she could probably use a drink after whatever it was that Neville had to tell them. In protest of having her private time cut short, she took an unusually long time to put on her shoes, socks, and outer robes, and, since she'd be back for her bath eventually, forewent trousers and knickers for expedience's sake.
The quickest way to Madam Puddifoot's as the phoenix flew would be the Room of Requirement, but she quickly decided that she'd rather depend on the SMAC she had cast rather than the quixotic room that seemed determined to make a fool of her. Thus, she found herself knocking at Severus's door for the second time that evening. He took nearly a minute to answer the door, which made her both savagely glad and slightly remorseful that hers wasn't the only private time Neville had scuttled.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Severus, but Neville asked us to meet him at Madam Puddifoot's as soon as possible."
He examined the Galleon that she held out for his perusal and nodded curtly. "Allow me a moment to sort my marking. I've only just now finished." If he had been indulging in anything more strenuous than marking, his face gave nothing away.
"Of course. Don't let me bother you."
"I try not to," he said, bending over his desk to leaf through the piles of parchment.
She refused to let herself admire the view and stared at the wall behind her. She smiled at this small victory over her baser impulses. Take that, you meddling old room! she thought.
The sound of a throat being cleared drew her attention, and she found herself looking into his dark eyes. Her moment of triumph was over. Out of habit, Hermione thought of liquorice allsorts. "Are you ready to go, then?" she asked him.
In lieu of answer, he groped for the invisible doorknob and opened the door, gesturing for her to pass in a way that was both mocking and gallant.
Hermione was about halfway through the door when she realized that the darkened room ahead of her was neither the magical closet she had made nor Madam Puddifoot's. She lost her balance in surprise and fell back against Severus, and to her dismay, the Galleon that had been in her hand went flying. She seized the doorjamb before she fell backwards into Severus and kicked out her foot towards the falling coin. To her surprise it landed on the toe of her shoe and stayed there.
"Wha-" she started to say, but Severus's hand clamped over her mouth before she could articulate the final consonant. She froze, her foot still in the air, and stared slack-jawed at what lay beyond the door.
She was staring at what she deduced must be the Room of Requirement, for all that there was an enormous fire blazing in the hearth, filling the room with flickering light and the smell of burning pine and hot iron. Her eyes fell upon the thick white pelt on the floor, and on the two figures kneeling on it.
It was Neville and Coop. They had shed their shirts and were kissing one another passionately, chest against chest, gripping one another as if being separated would have spelled their end. A fine sheen of perspiration shone on their backs.
Hermione swallowed hard and attempted to lower her foot to the floor, but the Galleon slid alarmingly to the right and would have fallen to the wooden floor if she hadn't raised her foot again.
Severus's arm tightened around her when the coin moved, and they did not relax once it became clear that the Galleon would stay in place for the moment. "Lean against me as slowly and gently as you can," he said in a whisper so faint that she wasn't sure she'd heard it at first. "I will carry you."
Hermione gave a tiny nod in acknowledgement and began to loosen her iron grip on the doorjamb. Her eyes, however, were still focused on the two men by the fire.
Neville's eyes were closed, and Hermione could hear his deep hum of satisfaction between rasping breaths. Coop's fingertips caressed Neville's lips, his cheek, and his neck. The touches were punctuated by small kisses, with which he seemed content to cover every inch of Neville's skin. His other hand was down the front of Neville's trousers, and she could clearly see Coop pleasuring Neville with long, firm strokes.
Coop let out a groan of his own, and Hermione belatedly realized that Neville was doing the same thing for Coop. The moment passed in seconds, and before she knew it, both men were fumbling with their belts and trousers. She would have gasped at the sight of Coop's nude silhouette, and Neville's exceptional qualities, which were even finer when he was unclothed, but Severus's hand had tightened over her mouth in warning.
Both men hissed in pleasure as the heads of their cocks brushed together, and they held one another tightly once more. Coop's hands danced over Neville's body, his hand squeezed and fingers teased beautiful sounds out of his partner, and Neville threw his arms around the other man, moaning loudly as they ground their hips and mouths together.
"Put all your weight on me," whispered Severus, his impatience evident, even while practically inaudible.
She gritted her teeth. Her muscles ached from being held in such an awkward position, and her biceps were burning with the effort of lowering herself slowly back against Severus. However, she was compensated for her labor by the sight of a smooth-chested Herbologist with a satisfyingly thick cock, and a slender reporter, the length of whose member could get him an interview with anybody, should he choose to approach the subject in that way. Her full weight now rested against Severus's chest, and she felt herself rise and fall slightly with his warm breath, which puffed lightly against her cheek.
Severus's arms tightened around her, and she realized that he was going to lift her. His exhalation was warm and soft in her hair. Her back was pressed against his chest, and she noted that he did indeed smell of cedar — juniper, too. She tore her attention away from the glistening, undulating backs before her and focused on keeping her leg and foot completely immobile.
Slowly, inexorably, and with unexpected power and control, Hermione felt herself being moved backwards from the lip of the Room of Requirement. She caught a sweet puff of cool dungeon air, which made her belatedly realize that the fire in the room made it uncomfortably hot. Sweat was beading on her brow, and Severus's hands slipped, which nearly made her lose the Galleon. They both breathed a sign of relief when Hermione twisted her ankle slightly to compensate for the jostling.
However, before she cleared the doorway, Neville gave a fierce growl and seized Coop, forcing him onto his back on the rug and kissing him fiercely and protectively. Coop let out a startled laugh before returning Neville's kisses with equal fervor. They were both perspiring heavily, bodies nearly blinding from the dancing flames reflecting off their moist skin. Hermione was surprised that both men not only had their wands, but that they both seemed to know exactly what to do. Hermione couldn't decide whether she wanted Severus to move more quickly or more slowly.
Coop conjured several pillows for himself, and Neville did something with his wand that made his cock glisten. Then, with a rakish grin, Coop lifted his legs and rested them on Neville's shoulders, and Neville positioned himself with a look of extreme concentration.
Hermione nearly struggled with Severus, but she realized that he had stopped moving backwards. His breathing was shallow, and his arms were trembling slightly from the effort of holding her aloft.
Neville took a deep breath and breached the opening to Coop's body slowly, but with calm deliberation.
Hermione knew that the sight of naked men was arousing, but as she watched Neville slide into his lover with a guttural moan, she felt as if she were the fire, hot and greedy. She squirmed uncontrollably against Severus's iron grip, desperate for some kind of stimulation. Her movements seemed to bring him back to himself, and moment later, they were both back in the Potions classroom. Severus leaned against the door, breathing heavily, and Hermione leaned against Severus. She let her leg go slack, and the Galleon on her shoe hit the floor with a loud plink, but neither of them made a move to retrieve it.
The room felt cold by comparison and was silent but for their rapid breathing. Severus seemed to realize that he was still holding her, and he set her abruptly back on her feet. As he righted her, something unmistakable brushed the curve of her buttock that nearly made her jump. Severus had an erection, and judging from the way the rest of his body stiffened from the unintentional contact, he was all too aware of it.
He unconsciously yanked on his robes to straighten them and swept to the far side of the desk and gazed balefully at her. "I trust you have some explanation for that," he said at last.
"I thought—"
"You thought simply because it's Valentine's Day you would give poor old Severus a bit of a treat, did you?"
Hermione stared at him in confusion. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Your young accomplices. Did you think I would want to join them, Hermione, is that it?"
"Why would— no! What? No!" she exclaimed, thinking as quickly as her arousal-fogged brain would allow. "You think I set this up?"
"Didn't you?"
"I jolly well didn't!"
He crossed his arms. "I am waiting for your explanation. It had better be a good one."
Hermione felt tears of frustration spring to her eyes. She didn't understand what was happening. What had Neville been thinking? Or had he been thinking at all?
"Oh."
"Oh?" repeated Severus.
"I think there was a misunderstanding.'
"That's something of an understatement."
"Neville must have intended that message to go only to Coop. I don't think I ever explained the finer points of using the Galleon to communicate to him. Coop probably met Neville there at Madam Puddifoot's and then they went straight into the Room of Requirement."
"You expect me to believe that Longbottom thought you'd fail to notice an urgent message sent by your own method of communication?"
"He might have thought I was in the bath," said Hermione. "If I hadn't taken so long to get everything ready, I would have been."
"Feeble, Granger, even for you."
"It's not feeble, it's the truth!" she exclaimed, her irritation finally breaking through the mist. "What could I possibly stand to gain from your discomfiture?"
"Discomfiture?" he looked at her as if she were a particularly dim first-year before his expression cleared slightly. "You don't think that I'm—" his expression clouded over again, and he gave her a piercing look.
Hermione scowled. Since when did he give a toss about what she thought of him sexually? He was behaving absurdly. "Aren't you?" she asked tartly. "I notice that a large part of you didn't seem to mind the proceedings at all."
Severus drew himself up to his full height, red-faced and frowning. "You stupid girl, do you really think that the sight of two obnoxious men sweating like hag-ridden horses would be more likely to bring about an involuntary response than proximity to the lush body of a not unattractive woman?"
They glared at one another for a moment before Hermione noticed a tiny twitch at the corner of Severus's mouth. She attempted to cover the giggle that rose in her throat, but it came out as an undignified snort.
"Not unattractive?" she asked.
"Large part?" he retorted, snorting. "We really are too old for this sort of thing."
"Speak for yourself," said Hermione, walking around his desk and sitting on the edge next to him.
"I'd rather not," he said lightly. "Though I think I shall speak rhetorically."
"Be my guest," said Hermione, who was tired from both their adventure and argument.
"Very well, Hermione. I find it quite interesting that in the past few days, you've made correct suppositions in regards to my anatomy and extremely personal habits, namely, my relative size and knowing that I do a number of tasks with my left hand, in spite of the fact that I write with my right."
Hermione schooled her features in an attempt not to react, but she knew her face had gone pale as a sheet. "Is that a rhetorical question?"
"It wasn't a question at all," replied Severus smoothly, "though it is undoubtedly related to how I know that your body, which you insist on draping in shapeless robes, is lush."
"If this is all rhetorical, is any response from me needed?" asked Hermione, who was feeling so light-headed that she couldn't make herself think of liquorice allsorts.
"Not as such," he replied. "But in light of this evening's licentious comedy of errors, I hope that neither of us will feel any rancor towards the other for knowing perhaps a bit more than we ought."
Hermione's shoulders slumped in relief. "That's fair," she said.
He cleared his throat. "I do have one question."
"Rhetorical or otherwise?"
"That depends on you, my dear," he said in a tone of voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and not from abject terror. "Would you consider—"
His question was loudly interrupted by a House Elf popping into the room.
"Professor, sir!" she exclaimed excitedly. "The potion you is making for the headmistress is working very well. She is asleep now!"
Severus was clearly torn between wishing to finish his sentence and wanting to ransack the headmistress's office.
"It's all right," she told him. "I know Dreamless Sleep only works for a few full REM cycles, so you'd better get going."
Severus pulled the Mag-Spec from the drawer in his desk and looked at Hermione in such a way as to make her wish her robes were slightly less shapeless. Perhaps his interest wasn't such a terrible lie after all.
"Come to my room afterwards," she said softly.
He reached out towards her face but stopped just short of her cheek. "Are you quite sure?"
She gave him an impish smile. "Of course! How else would I get any work done tomorrow morning if you forgot to return my Mag-Spec?"
His look was unreadable as he crossed the room to the far wall. "Enjoy your bath," he said, allowing the smirk in his voice to spread across his face just as he disappeared through the invisible door that led to the Aperterium's observation room.
Hermione rather thought she would.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was past eleven when a soft knock pulled Hermione fromAnalytical and Numerical Approaches to Problems in Arithmantic Analysis. She felt a tendril of anticipation curl about her belly, and she shoved the magazine beneath the mattress and quickly cast an illusion of herself sleeping on Molly's spy mirror. For good measure, she cast Muffliato before opening the door.
A vaguely Severus-shaped blob of translucence slid inside. "Are we safe?" he whispered.
She tapped her wand on the top of his head, removing the Disillusionment charm.
"We are," she said. "Did you find it?"
His expression was sour. "No. The old woman's trickier than I thought."
"It's easy to underestimate her," Hermione said, trying not to sound too disappointed. "That's what got us both here, after all. Did you find anything that might be able to help?"
"Doubtful," he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, dusty, thoroughly squashed roll of cloth bound tightly with string. "But this will make for an amusing Mag-Spec scan at the very least."
Hermione severed the strings with her wand and unrolled the cloth, dismayed that it was patched, frayed, and not just dusty, but filthy. She nearly jumped when it twitched and popped into a very familiar shape. It was the ancient, battered Sorting Hat. The rip along its brim flapped a few times, as if making sure that it still retained the ability to do so before speaking in an impressive voice. "It is time."
"Good lord," said Hermione weakly, sitting down on the foot of the bed. "Severus, where did you find it?"
"The old bat was using it to prop up a corner of her vanity table."
"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, her hand flying involuntarily towards the hat's sagging peak. "Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?"
If the hat had had eyes, she would have sworn that it was sizing the two of them up. "I haven't had a head to sit on in years," it said. "Put me on so that I may read the workings of the outside world inside your mind. And do not Occlude me this time, Professor. It's for everyone's good."
"I've heard that one before," grumbled Severus, but he set the hat on his head without hesitation.
"Hmm," said the hat after a protracted silence. "Things are as bad as expected. You're next, young lady!"
She set the hat down on her head, half expecting the intrusive feeling of Legilimency, but all she felt was the pleasant weight and warmth of the hat on her head and its small voice in her ear. "Hmm," it said again. "This is really quite fascinating. Really, you two won't need my help in this at all. Everything you need to know is right there in your heads."
"But we don't know what we need to do," exclaimed Hermione.
"Of course you do," said the hat. "You might not quite know why, but all that will become clear. I suggest that you both start by getting some rest. And then, once you've done that, I'd be most appreciative if you could take me to the Room of Requirement tomorrow. Then we may begin our work in earnest. My dear, if you would be so good as to draw me a bath, I'd be much obliged. I'm rather in need of a soak."
"Erm, sure," she said, gingerly lifting the hat. "Do you want any bubbles?"
"Bubbles? Oh yes!" exclaimed the hat. "Rosemary scented, I think, for remembrance. So kind of you to ask."
Hermione privately worried that the years' worth of dirt and stains might be the only things holding the old hat together, but she gave it the benefit of the doubt and filled the tub as it had requested. When the hat was submerged in the hot water and bubbling merrily to itself, Hermione returned to her room, where Severus was waiting for her.
The room fairly hummed from the combined power of their Muffliatos; even the hat's song couldn't penetrate. Hermione felt a keen rush of warmth at the sight of him sitting on her bed, looking intently at the flames in her fireplace.
He rose as she approached. "It must be somewhere," he said, eyes glittering dangerously. Hermione was exceptionally glad not to be a Weasley at that moment.
"It might not even exist," she said. "You might have destroyed the real contract already."
"But you don't believe that," he accused.
"I think that the contract is, or was, the weakness in the spell. Perhaps the reason the graph is so fragile-looking is because you've already weakened it. Perhaps the spell held in spite of the contract's destruction. We can't know for certain. The only thing we can do is decide whether or not we should continue in this direction, and if so, what path to take."
"Are you always like this in the face of setbacks?" complained Severus.
"Like what?"
"Irritatingly rational and correct?"
She smiled. "I'm afraid so. It comes from years of managing temperamental bureaucrats. Not that I'm calling you a bureaucrat, mind."
"And what of your own disappointments and frustrations?"
She thought for a moment. "I usually take it out on Ron. Or immediately start plotting revenge."
"Those are not the most useful of suggestions, Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley wouldn't be able to hear my complaints, and I have been plotting revenge for over seven and a half years."
"The other option is a bottle of wine and very hot bath," said Hermione.
"My bath is inadequate, and yours is being permanently stained by a bit of talking haberdashery."
"Wine is something I may provide, at least," said Hermione, slipping into the bathroom and grabbing the ice bucket.
Severus gave her a quizzical look. "Were you expecting company?"
"None but my left hand," she said ruefully.
He smiled at this, and put his hand into his pocket. "I nearly forgot. I failed to get you a present for Christmas. I hope you will accept this with my compliments."
He held out a crumpled paper bag stamped with the Honeydukes logo. Already knowing what she would find, she opened the bag to find it filled with Honeydukes's finest liquorice allsorts. She felt a flush spreading across her cheeks.
"How did you know?" she asked at last.
He gave her a smirk that made her toes curl. "Potions are not the only thing I evaluate by sight and smell," he said. "I don't claim to understand the reason why images of these candies bring about such a powerful response in you, but—"
"They're a very thoughtful gift, Severus. Thank you," she said quickly, hoping to keep him from deducing that the allsorts were not the source of her arousal and her subsequent humiliation.
She turned to set the bag of candy down on the vanity near the bottle of wine, but he placed his hand on her arm.
"I had hoped," he said, looking intently into her eyes, "that we might enjoy them together."
In that moment, competing sets of data appeared side by side in her mind's eye, and refused to reconcile. Then, the analytical part of her brain began sorting through, one by one, the sources of the data, and immediately brought to mind a snippet of past conversation.
"I wish to use our time together to gauge your interest in me, with the eventual goal of ravishing you across one of the student benches."
"That's not a very good lie."
"No, it isn't. Terrible, in fact."
The truth, of course, is the most terrible lie of all. The realization brought with it wonder, but close at its heels was extreme irritation with herself.
"I am the dimmest, thickest, most absurdly pathetic plonker to have ever walked the earth," she declared.
"I haven't the pleasure of understanding you," he said, frowning, "or rather, I understand you, I simply can make no sense—"
And then her arms were around his neck and her mouth was pressed resolutely to his. She withdrew to ascertain his response. He was staring at her with a shocked expression on his face. He held out his hand to her face, and Hermione seized it and brought it to her lips.
"It's been weeks now that I've been trying to fool your Occlumency by imagining liquorice allsorts every time I had inappropriate thoughts about you," she said, kissing each of his knuckles. "It's all because I misunderstood the hints you dropped about being interested in me."
"Hints?" he asked, his scoffing tone in direct opposition to the tenderness of his fingertips as he brushed them along her jaw and buried them in her hair. "I was explicit, if not crude!"
"You were," she agreed. "I simply wasn't equipped to believe a Slytherin capable of forthrightness. Forgive me?"
"You are an idiot, Miss Granger," he said. "Consider yourself fortunate that years of exposure to idiocy have inured me somewhat to the trait."
"I suppose it is better to be liked in spite of one's idiocy and not because of it," she said, sliding her hand around his waist. "Honestly, knowing I could have kissed you weeks ago is infuriating. I could kick myself."
"Later, my dear," he said authoritatively. "There will be time enough for self-recrimination later. As it is, I think the most important thing is that we waste no more time. Don't you agree?"
Hermione got a great deal of enjoyment from showing Severus precisely how much she agreed. Before she knew it, their kissing had gone from desperate and vertical to languorous and horizontal. The bedclothes were in disarray from their vigorous attempts to press their bodies so close to one another as to melt into one another, which, Hermione realized was doomed to fail by virtue of their being too impatient to remove any articles of clothing. However, they soon remedied this, and soon their hot kisses were interspersed with mild swearing, due largely to the fact that both wore traditional robes with huge numbers of buttons.
Slowly, articles of clothing came off, and soon, Severus's forehead was pressed to her sternum and her right nipple was in his mouth. Goosebumps rippled across her flesh, and Severus pulled the bed sheet up over her lower half to keep her from getting too cold. Hermione was quickly losing higher brain function. The demanding area between her legs was clamoring for attention of some sort, and she let out a shuddering moan as he kissed her breasts tenderly and began to kiss his way down her side.
This would have been the beginning of something truly unforgettable for both parties had not Molly Weasley chosen that moment to pound on the door with all of her physical and magical strength.
"HERMIONE GRANGER!" came Molly's furious howl. "OPEN THIS DOOR AT ONCE!"
Severus froze, and Hermione shot him an apologetic look before pulling the sheet over him, banishing the Muffliatos and the illegal hexes on her front door with one Finite Incantatem.
Molly was not to be deterred. Moments later, the door was blasted off its hinges, and the furious headmistress swept into the room, reeking of brimstone. She froze when she saw Hermione in bed with the sheet pulled up to her chest and a man-shaped lump beneath her sheets.
Hermione did not have to feign fury. "What is wrong with you, woman?" she cried.
The anger in her voice only served to rekindle the headmistress's ire. "What's wrong with me?" she asked in a mock-pleasant voice. "Could it be perhaps that someone has broken into my private quarters?"
"I've never been in your private quarters," exclaimed Hermione, pulling the sheet up under her chin, "or did it slip your mind that you won't let me do an analysis of the spells in your room?"
"As the resident expert on opening protected and hidden spaces, you are one of very few people in the castle who have the means. You're probably still bitter about the Ministry failing to fund you, so you have motive. And," she said, gesturing at the mirror that was still covered with Hermione's illusion, "you maliciously disabled my monitoring spell, in order to give you the opportunity to do it."
At this moment, a very male arm, thankfully not the one that still bore a faint imprint of the Dark Mark, snaked out from beneath the sheet and waved at Molly.
"I should think it obvious that I had no malice in mind when I disabled your monitoring spell, merely a desire for intimate company without your interference. Furthermore," she said, grabbing the hand and sticking the index finger between her lips, "I have a witness who will be more than happy to state that I have been occupied since early this afternoon. I'm sorry that your privacy has been violated, but it wasn't by me or Neville. Now," she said, allowing some of her anger to show, "stop violating mine and get the hell out of my room."
"How dare you talk to me like this in my own school!"
"Molly, you know that I am the only person in the school with the ability to find out who broke into your room. You've forced me to cover so much ground since I've been here that I have more than enough convincing data to secure funding from nearly any agency, so I don't particularly care if you threaten to take away my funding if I don't do what you want. If you wish me to apprehend the miscreant and finish mapping the school, some things are going to have to change, starting with removing yourself from this room, apologizing for spoiling what was turning out to be a wonderful evening, and never again attempting to spy on me as I do my work."
Molly's face had gone purple. "This isn't the end," she hissed, stomping out of the room and slamming the door noisily back into place.
"No, it isn't," said Hermione, shaking from a surge of adrenaline and the heady feeling of triumph. "This is only the beginning."
Sarcastic applause began beneath the sheets, and Hermione kicked at Severus. He pulled neatly out of range and emerged from beneath the sheets.
"Now you've done it," he said, not sounding particularly displeased. "It's to be open warfare now. And you do realize that she's going to go back to kicking me around now that you're no longer standing for it."
"Then it would behoove you to spend as much time as possible among other people so she can't do anything to you. And speaking of spending time in the company of others, now that Neville and Coop have found one another, I do have an opening for ersatz boyfriend."
"The fact that I'm under the Fidelius Charm rather precludes the social benefits of such an arrangement."
Hermione smiled. "It is my hope that the private benefits will far outweigh the social ones."
Severus planted a warm kiss on her forehead and slid his arms around her. "As pleasant as it sounds, I really must decline until I'm better able to devote my full attention to you."
Hermione stiffened. "Are you saying that after tonight I'm going to have to go back to thinking of liquorice allsorts?"
"I said nothing of the kind. I'm merely pointing out that while one of us is still under the headmistress's thumb, we endanger our work and plotting by thinking only of our own pleasure. What if we'd been on the floor with no convenient sheets to shield my identity? As long as Molly Weasley has power over me, Hogwarts isn't a safe place for us to be together."
Hermione sighed noisily, knowing he was probably right. "On the bright side, at least both of us have plenty of practice putting aside our own pleasure for the sake of a greater goal."
"Yes," he said, "and look where it's got us."
She laid her head on his chest. "I haven't any complaints."
"Really?" he asked, with heavy irony.
"Well, no, not really. I wouldn't have had the headmistress interrupt us, neither of us would have been held here against our will, there would be much better food, and someone with more qualifications than being a suspicious parent would be in charge of the place, but this was pleasant enough to make me forget about that."
"Until I asked, that is?"
"Yes," she said, smiling and pressing a goodnight kiss to the warm skin of his neck. "That'll teach you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~