Chapter Five: A not-so-silly not-so-little girl

Fine for her to sit there, in some scarlet scrap of nothing barely covering her bum, grinning at me as if she were the cat and I the canary, trussed up and ready to eat!

To his self-disgust, just the idea of her putting any part of him anywhere near her mouth made his tadger even more alert. She was, in fact, kneeling next to him on the bed, smiling and waiting for an answer he wasn't sure how to give.

Say-yes-say-yes-say-yes-say-yes-say-yes-say-yes!

Ignoring the juvenile voice in his head, Snape let his eyes roam over this latest iteration of the woman who had by turns plagued and intrigued him over the past two days and nights.

Or has it been three nights? No, it only seems as if so much time had passed. Bloody Hermione GrangerSnape-WeasleySnapeSnapeGranger-WeasleyGranger-SnapeWeasleyWeasleyWeasley! Snape?

At second glance, this Hermione's attire was more disturbing than alluring. He recognised the short uniform dress. The red velour looked painted on her, calling attention to the roundness of her hips, and the black hose emphasised the slender lines of her thighs.

"You got that bit wrong," he told her, jutting his chin towards the intrepid tresses staging an escape from her haphazard hairdo.

Her smile widened. "I'd like to see you try getting this mess to stay in a beehive," she retorted cheerfully. "Never mind the hair. What do you think of the rest?"

I'd like it better in tatters on the floor.

"I was never very fond of that colour scheme," he said aloud. "There's a reason The Enterprise so often lost crewmembers wearing it."

Obviously familiar enough with Star Trek fan lore to catch the reference to hapless "red shirts", she laughed. Softy, but deeply enough to do interesting things to the front of her dress.

With each breath she drew, her breasts – smallish, but high and perfectly shaped – strained against the low-cut bodice moulded to them.

Ridiculous, he scolded himself. Delicious! his ninny-headed knob countered.

He forced himself to meet her searching gaze. She arched a brow when he still didn't answer.

Say-yes-say-yes-say-yes-say-yes-say-yes-say-yes!

You can't do that! What if there's a Weasley lurking in the wardrobe?

He tried telling himself, Weasley or no Weasley, he was more than a pulsating cock attached to a penile life-support system and deserved to be treated as a fully functioning person. As most of him was restrained, he had a difficult time accepting that argument.

Say-yes-say-yes-for-the-sake-of-all-that-is-holy-say-yes-say-yes-say-yes!

She leant in closer. The scent of honeysuckle and almond wafted up his overlarge nostrils. He wondered how her bosom managed to not to spill over the confines of the flimsy fabric.

She must have charmed it to—

Barely breathing himself, he watched her inhale again.

Focus, man!

"Is that… thing you're wearing really befitting a soldier, Miss Uhura?"

The question seemed to catch her off-guard, but only momentarily. Thickly fringed lids quickly shuddered her wide eyes, and the O of her lips softened into a sensual smile.

"All's fair in love and war, after all," she purred. "Weren't we all once soldiers of a sort? Is it really so odd to think I might have become adept in handling" he detected a slight emphasis on the word "the arms of amour?"

Oh lord! Spell broken – well, mostly broken – he rolled his eyes. "Surely, you've got better lines than that?"

Hermione shrugged as if his disdain were no deterrent. "I don't usually need them," she told him. "I don't do this sort of thing very often."

Severus didn't try to hide his scepticism.

Sitting back on her heels, she grinned impishly. That nearly freed him from his bizarre fascination with her… everything, the smile was so like Violet's.

"So?" She eyed his prick which – apparently still enchanted – obligingly waved at her once more.

"I think not."

Liar! You'd have her out of that preposterous kit so quick—

"Liar," she said, baring her teeth in an even more playful, and yet somehow calculating, smile. She flicked another glance at his groin.

"I am not inclined to make use of it," he told her. "I said nothing about whether it was inclined to be used. Not that it matters what it wants. I am my own master, at last. Do you honestly believe I'd bow to the wishes of a quivering cock and a dim-witted witch with questionable taste in clothing? After spending nearly two decades spent taking orders from a capering pouf and a psychopathic murderer with daddy-issues? Think, you silly little girl!"

He pulled ineffectually against his invisible bonds.

"And what, in Merlin's dubiously exalted name, made you think I'd enjoy being tied up?"

She scowled – possibly at the implication behind the accusation; he couldn't be certain – and with a few flicks of her fingers, freed him.

"I didn't! It was Severus Two Seventy-four's ludicrous idea." Yanking a wand from her bushy bouffant, she waved it round a bit, and the naughty excuse for a Starfleet uniform dress melted away. "So was the uniform. He thought it might make him feel less guilty about..." Rather than finish the sentence, she flicked her fingers again to indicate her newly naked self. If she used any more magic in the project, Severus didn't notice.

At first, Severus didn't absorb much of anything she was saying; he was too busy noting how much her nude body resembled that first Hermione's. The only difference he could find was the tiny H55 imprinted on her shoulder rather than H93.

What did the tart in the black lace say about Fifty-five? It was a took a super-wizardly effort to pull his thoughts from the sight before him and remember, but when he did… Oh, bloody fucking hell!

"Is this your doing, then?" He waved a hand, an expansive gesture indicating himself and his presence in her home.

"Of course not!" she snapped, wobbling a bit as she scrambled off the bed. "Obviously, you've let the others' opinions prejudice you. Honestly, Severus, I'd have thought you'd learnt better by now.

"We'd never put the entire project at risk by trying something like this! We and the Seventies might do the occasional off-Notebook trading, but only amongst ourselves."

The tirade ended as suddenly as it began and she looked at him, huge brown eyes begging for understanding.

Shit! Next, she'll start crying.

"The others look down on us and hint that we're rule-breakers," she continued, her voice now as supplicating as her eyes, "but there's nothing in our guidelines stopping them doing the same. As long as all parties are in agreement, why fault us for spreading our love?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he told her honestly.

SS~HG

As predicted, tears had been shed – "Don't look at me like that! These are tears of anger and frustration at being stuck with a stubborn dunderhead!" – effectively ending his erection, but to be safe, Severus suggested a change in both location and state of dress.

It was easier to focus once they were both wearing clothes, and when her clothes weren't skin-tight, low-cut or otherwise intended to arouse the senses. When he wasn't fighting an internal battle to keep his eyes on her face, he was able to actually take in what she was saying. And he was able to recall what she had said when she'd been distractingly naked or inappropriately attired.

He was pleased to find his borrowed clothing consisted of the white shirt and black trousers he customarily wore in his own world.

They relocated to a cosy sitting room which looked much like Fifty-three's had, although it was evident these Snapes were a little more invested in the television programme which was likely the cause of his recent troubles. She made herself comfortable on the sofa, The Notebook open in her lap. Declining the invitation to join her, he settled his long frame into a wingchair – upholstered in Starfleet Science blue, for Merlin's sake! – by the fire.

"I thought you said your last visitor was the 'Trekkie'."

"He's the one with the Uhura kink," Fifty-five said with another of those disarming smiles.

"But, I'm willing to bet all of you are little too interested in the adventures of Mr Spock and Captain Kirk." She gestured around the room. "It looks good, don't you think? And

far more comfortable than it was before I moved in, don't you think?" Unlike her predecessor, she didn't use child safety as an excuse for storing his Darker books elsewhere. "That's what your study is for!"

The Snape in the wedding photo smiled – well, it was nearly a smile, anyway – blandly, offering him the Vulcan ta'al. The Snape in the sitting room ignored him and sneered at the pointed ears Violet and a toddling young wizard (barely out of nappies, Severus guessed) wore in another frame. He didn't mind blaming the witch sitting across from him for turning his interest into a family obsession, but he held his counterpart accountable for being unable to resist the witch's wiles.

Although, if the sex is that good…

He was distracted when a portrait of Molly Weasley which had been absent on Fifty-three's mantelpiece winked at him salaciously. Severus tamped down a shudder, but Granger (she used the name privately as well as professionally "so the Sevs can keep us straight; in our family, Seventy is usually called 'Hermione'") noticed and laughingly promised he'd "get it" soon enough.

"Even though we've never met in person, we're closer than sisters," she said of her relationship with Hermione Seventy. "Imagine having two bodies with one mind." She shook her head at his doubtful look. "I suppose you have to experience it for yourself to understand.

"We share everything. Nearly every thought, every emotion and sensation. It was a simple thing to alter the spell for The Notebook so we could keep our private lives just between us. Any of the others could so the same if they wanted to."

He determinedly sipped his coffee – kopi luwak at last! – while she delved deeper into the workings of her relationship she and her husband shared with Hermione and Severus Seventy. "We consider ourselves to be married, but with four people, instead of two. Is that really all that different to what the Eights have? Only, we're only together two at a time, so if everyone is going to judge us…"

Severus didn't remind her that some of the others judged "the Three Eights" just as harshly. He knew from his visit with the Two Forty-eights that none of them shared with anyone other than their legally wedded spouses. "Except for that one time with Sev One Ninety-eight, but that was an accident," Mr Snape-Weasley had let slip. "We stopped soon as we realised."

More to the point, however, even as he drank his deliciously expensive coffee and listened to what she had to say, he was thinking about all the mysteries she might solve for him.

This Hermione has an axe to grind and it's left her far more forthcoming than other have been. That could be to my advantage, should I play cards carefully.

You mean to take advantage of the girl!

"And they're all so quick to put Saint Sixteen on a pedestal because she was the first after One, but she didn't really do anything except help create The Notebooks. It was actually a Severus who figured things out. And of course she's able to keep her head in a travelling crisis; she's with Ron."

I mean to take advantage of the situation, not the woman. Emphasising her current status made him feel marginally better about what he planning. Besides, it's no more than she deserves – than any of them deserve!

"Oh? One of the sixty percent, is she?"

"What?" Shaking her head slowly, she frowned at him. "Oh! Oh, no. No. There's no sixty percent. See what I mean? They tell you forty percent us are Snapes, but don't explain the rest. Only about another forty percent are with Ron and that's including the Eights. Some Hermiones are… in other situations."

Not sure how far to push, or even how to push, Severus said nothing. She'd say more when she was ready; he was sure of it. Because she wanted him to know.

Rationalise it however you like, this woman never did you any harm. In fact, she's been nothing but helpful.

Precisely! So, she shouldn't mind being even more helpful once she realises how truly ignorant they've left me.

"There's just over forty Hermiones who are sort of caught between. You'd think they wouldn't have anything to say about my situation or about even about the Eights since I bet they'll be joining them some day. We'll have to come up with a new name for the lot them if they do, because most of them aren't actually eights."

You still haven't explained why I was kept ignorant of the curse and of the existence of these other worlds.

"Fifteen is one of them, in fact. Two Seventy-four was with her first, but that was before the curse sort of regulated itself or whatever happened and you started following him. I don't think you'll meet her this travel, but if you did, you'd know what I mean."

Or exactly why my Granger never attempted to enlighten me about the situation – against her own wishes (now according to two other Councillors of H). Since when did she give up independent thinking in favour of following the crowd?

"She was in the bath when Two Seventy-four arrived and she only realised because she was sure it was a Ron night. She switches off from one bloke to the other, and she has the nerve to call me a tart?"

Good lord, this can't really all be about sex! They must have done something more to offend her. All the more reason to get information out of her. I'll be helping her if I allow her to subvert their ridiculous rules.

"You're probably thinking this is all about the sex, but it's not," she said, startling him with how closely her words mirrored his thoughts.

Is it any wonder I might think that when even you avoid telling me anything of any real importance?

"It's about how we each want to go about settling this once and for all. I've just found there's a bit of a correlation between those who don't approve of my love life and those who don't approve of my methodology for studying the curse."

No one has explained to my satisfaction why they have not simply sent me back where I belong. What are more are they hiding?

"Where are you hiding Violet?"

His non sequitur didn't seem to faze her in the slightest.

"It's Saturday. She and Abbas always go to one grandparent or another at the weekend. We just sent her a little early this week."

Saturday! Since accepting what has happened is real, I haven't asked whether they've plans to maintain my brewery, and so far no one else has mentioned it. Will I be a ruined man if – when! – I return to my own world? And why on Earth did we name the boy Albus?

But he had little time to worry other that because Granger wasn't done speaking.

"And that's another thing! We don't wrap our children in cotton wool. The world is a scary place, and we want them to be prepared for it. The other four barely let her out of their sights! I mean, you met Fifty-three's Violet – though, I suppose she's better than the other three, so perhaps she's not the best example. Anyway, did she strike you as the sort of child who needed coddling? It's ridiculous the way they treat her! Our two, at least, and to a lesser extent, Fifty-three's, will be fine, I think, but the other three?" She shook her head. "I worry about those little girls. You can't hide anything from a child like Violet. And Abbas is just as clever as his big sister!"

Unable to stop himself, Severus cringed and asked, "What curse did you perform on your husbands to make them allow you to name your son after that manipulative fop?"

"What are you talking about?" She wrinkled her nose at him. Merlin, I do like it when she does that. "Oh! You thought I said 'Albus'!" Her laughter was music to his ears. "No, silly. We named him after you – er – his father, actually. He's called Abbas. One of its meanings is 'stern-looking' or 'frowning'."

Seeing that she was at last providing useful information again, he seized the opportunity to learn something else of immediate value.

"How is it that you are so certain I belong to the two hundred seventy-third world, when the other Hermiones hadn't a clue?"

Hermione Fifty-five glanced up at him and scoffed at the unseen multitude of other Hermiones.

"Those cows! Sometimes it's hard to believe any of them qualify as 'the brightest witch of her age'!" She shook her head in disgust. "Most of them aren't really thinking," she told him, and her expression went from irritated to disappointed and sad. "They would have figured it out, too, otherwise."

I knew this was about more than the sex.

She scooted forward in her seat, looking at him eagerly, earnestly.

"It's not that they're stupid, you see. It's only they're so worried about following the rules. I'd never have guessed any me could end up being such a prig again! It never got me anywhere before I went to Hogwarts!"

Severus was surprised to find himself smiling a little at some of the rules he remembered her breaking as a student. Not all of them had got her anywhere good.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, I did plenty of dunderheaded things at Hogwarts – some of which nearly got me killed, and thank god you were there to save me half the time! – but I also learned a lot from not always doing what I was told. I wouldn't have learnt half the things I did if I'd always done the 'right' thing. You see?"

Merlin, she's gorgeous when she's making ridiculous excuses.

But Severus did see she had a point and told her so.

"And sometimes the lessons we learn through our mistakes are the best of all," he added.

"Exactly!" Hermione nearly leapt from her seat in her enthusiasm. "That's exactly what I mean, and that's exactly what they're not doing. Our – unofficial, mind – code of conduct says we aren't to tell you anything we hadn't agreed on, but we haven't agreed on anything because we never thought we meet you or Two Seventy-four! And not telling you anything also meant not asking you anything because asking is sometimes just like telling, you see."

Clearly I've spent far too much time with too many versions of this woman. That last bit actually made sense!

"They sound more like sheep than cows," he said, hoping she'd smile for him again. And keep talking.

She smiled for him again. At first she tried to fight it. Infinitely kissable lips twitched then pursed until he felt himself leaning forward and was forced to snatch himself back. That was when a huge grin stretched across her face and made her brown eyes shine nearly as bright as the fire in the grate.

"Too right!" she said, giggling.

Since when have you found girlishgiggles arousing, you pervert?

Then she resumed explaining what the others apparently had missed.

"So, I only had to ask the last Severus one question to figure out which one he was. One question! Any of us could have done it."

Caught up in her excitement, even if he had no idea from whence it stemmed, Severus grinned like a firstie at a Hogwarts' Christmas Feast.

"What question might that be?" he asked gamely.

For a moment, Hermione only grinned harder. But then she clasped her hands together and blurted, "I asked him when was the last time he spoke with his Miss Granger! And when he said a few days ago, I knew!"

That's it? All that shouting and grinning and hand clasping for that? Snape was more than a little disappointed.

"Because, of course Hermione Two Seventy-four is practically stalking him, she wants him so bad. While your Hermione goes out of her way to avoid you!"

All at once, he no longer felt like smiling. Or hearing answers to any of his other questions.

He asked them anyway, of course. Eventually.

Spurred as much by his desire to stop Hermione begging his pardon and apologizing profusely – "I didn't mean it that way! Honestly, Severus, I have no idea how she really feels about you" – as his need to better understand his situation, he gave in just before the sun rose.

His business was in no danger, she assured him.

"Polyjuice," she explained. "Two Seventy-three is the only one who consistently lives up to our reputation. Even I didn't think it was necessary to take those sorts of precautions, but since it meant going against the sheep, I supported her when she insisted. Though, I'm dying to know how she managed to get hold of your hair. She never said. Still likes the to keep things to herself; we all that way at school, you might remember, though most of us grew out of it, you see. Except for when it came to you and Two Seventy-four's Snape.

"Funny how the rest of them agreed to keep secrets from you, but think we should share everything else!

"I suppose I'm sort of in the middle – Seventy and me, both. Which is why Two Seventy-three and Two Seventy-four trust us with their secrets. Like Two Seventy-four moonimg over her Snape and following him everywhere.

"Now I think about it, it's probably a good thing none of the others thought to ask him any questions because they think she only sees him about once every other month to your Hermione's once or twice a year when really, it's more like twice a week – but she's only told Two Seventy-three, Seventy and me about that – and if the others knew the truth there's no telling how they would react."

"For someone who's supposed to be keeping her distance, she spends an awful lot of time in his company. If I know her as well as I think I do – which I do, you know – I expect she won't even try anymore once everything's back to normal. Not that he'll give her a chance to try, now that he knows."

It's no wonder she needs two husbands and is shopping for a third, Severus thought. It must be maddening to listen to her chatter all the time. He reminded himself that it was her propensity for prattling which was going to save his arse, and didn't complain aloud.

"Anyway, they keep our secrets, so we keep theirs. Not that your Hermione has a lot of secrets, it's just there are some things she needs help doing – research and the like – and we help her because she won't go to any of the others. She's not obsessed with you the way Two Seven-four is, but she hasn't given me reason to think she doesn't like you. It's more like— I think it's more that she wants to give you your privacy. Once, back before it was absolutely decided they wouldn't tell you two anything, she said something like, 'If we're going to keep a secret that several hundred others are already aware of from just two men, I don't think it's fair to expect them to be of any assistance when they won't even know they're helping! If we aren't going to tell them anything, we should leave them alone altogether!'

"Of course, she thought that would make them change their minds about telling you, but the Severuses were pretty insistent. Even the ones with Mollys thought is was a bad idea, and they're usually pretty flexible, considering this all started with a Molly, albeit not a Molly Snape."

Severus choked on his second cup of coffee.

"Molly Snape?" he enquired once he was able.

This time, there was nothing impish or innocent or adorable about her grin.

"Scary, isn't?"

SS~HG

In spite of the caffeine infusion and his genuine interest in increasing his information inventory, by the time Fifty-five had clarified the various relationships of all two hundred ninety-four Hermiones and each of the two hundred ninety-two known Severuses – including the fourteen who'd died on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack, but stuck around as Hermione-haunting ghosts – Severus was beginning to feel the effects of two nights of interrupted sleep followed by early mornings.

"Now you're up to date, so to speak, I should probably get on with what some of us think is happening now."

"No."

"No?" She frowned at him, scrunching up her little nose adorably. But he'd had enough and at that moment, the idea of sleep was more appetising than her pursed lips.

"I'm tired, Granger. While I appreciate you sharing I need to relax!

"And I already read your ridiculous Account, so you can't tell me anything I don't already know about your bloody research!"

Granger snorted. "The Account! It's a load of useless rubbish without The Notebook." She patted the space beside her. "Look, why don't you join me over here? I happen to know this sofa was designed for optimal comfort meeting the specifications of your body. You can rest and I'll read you the bits the others wouldn't let you see."

She lay down, beckoning him with a wave of The Notebook. "Come on, then," she said. "It's for research. You always said personal research was more important than swallowing facts to be regurgitated."

There was a major failure to her logic, considering she'd just offered to read to him from a book, but Severus was too exhausted to care much. And he had always been a passionate proponent of personal research.

When she said, "Come here, Severus. I promise not to bite unless you ask nicely," any lingering resistance faded away. He didn't even notice or care when The Notebook dropped from her hand to the floor, leaving her arms free to wrap around him as he lay next to her. There'd be time enough to look up the other meanings of "Abbas" when he was home.

Craps Lesson 5: When it's too late for a "Don't Pass," would-be wrong bettors must opt for the "Don't Come."

A/N: The "don't come" bet is similar to the "don't pass" bet, but it's made after the come-out roll (the first roll, used to establish a point). Mathematically, it's got pretty much the same slightly better odds as the don't pass; it will probably also make you equally unpopular at the table.