Special Note, March 6, 2006: This story is currently undergoing massive editing. I have taken down most of its chapters to do this. I WILL be putting them back up, slowly but surely. Thank you to all reviewers, and sorry to all those who were upset by my tearing down of the story. I tried to e-mail everyone who sent me a PM, e-mail, or confused review, but I don't think I succeeded. Again, I'm very sorry. Hopefully the story has improved, however. Anyone who has read it before will probably not need to reread it; the basic plot remains the same.
Author's Notes: I don't think I mentioned this in my previous notes, but Hermione and Ron are a couple for the moment, though this story will end up being a Draco/Hermione romance.
Chapter Two
Unusual Allies
Snape was drunk. Very, very drunk.
This was not… not cool. He'd woken up next to a student, the damned Head Girl—from Gryffindor!—and that was bad enough without her being Potter's best friend and one of his least favorite people. Then it turned out she was actually good to talk to when he was too drunk to care that it was Hermione Granger he was talking to. And he'd ended up having a thought or two that wasn't right on so many levels as she lay in his bed or sat in his armchair in his robes. He couldn't remember having a morning half as strange.
Malfoy needs to die… Malfoy needs to die… He was chanting it, he realized, to the tune of "The Farmer in the Dell." Hi, ho, the dairy-o, Malfoy needs to diiiiiiiie!
Snape found himself bursting into the Slytherin common room. It was early, but Malfoy was awake and sitting by the fire—Malfoy hadn't slept well since his father's death last year, during the final battle with Voldemort. Malfoy stared up at his professor, startled, worried and completely confused.
Snape pointed his empty tequila bottle at Malfoy like a sword. Malfoy began reaching for his wand carefully, looking scared—terrified, really, but then it wasn't every day a powerful wizard and ex-Death Eater ran into the room wearing nothing but a sheet around his waist and brandishing an alcohol bottle at you.
Snape caught himself before yelling the Killing Curse when he realized he wasn't holding his wand. Instead, he started shouting at Malfoy like… well, like the drunken madman he was.
"It's none of your business if I slept with her! None! And I didn't, honest! Granger and I are… are… just friends!"
The look on Malfoy's face made even the intoxicated and enraged Snape laugh.
Although Hermione had used secret passages all the way back to Gryffindor tower, and although no one had seen her save Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville (who came into the dormitory and nearly fell over in shock when presented with evidence that Hermione would get drunk), Malfoy had told every Slytherin about the prank. Parvati and Lavender had gotten their hands on the information too, but Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had all agreed that Ginny and Hermione would tell them the whole story was a ruse, invented to cover up the fact that Hermione was, indeed, cheating on Ron (which neither Ron nor Hermione were pleased about, but it was better than the truth). The tale didn't go any further than the Slytherins; most of the students in other houses either didn't hear it, or didn't believe it.
The first potions class after Hermione had woken up next to Snape, however, set Harry, Ron, and Hermione to thinking. The moment Snape walked in, he glared around at the class before speaking.
"I realize that, as seventh years, you will be engaging in the prank war. I am also fully aware that, as a teacher, I am only permitted to punish you with detentions and the removal of House points. But know this—" he glared directly at Malfoy— "I will not be toyed with. Anyone who makes the mistake of trying to get the drop on me will face revenge, not punishment. You will be severely dealt with, the old-fashioned way, and my job be damned."
Snape was now avoiding Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny like the plague, knowing full well that anything in Hermione's life was always shared with Ron and Harry and usually with Ginny. The four of them enjoyed an increase in their grades; Snape was even grading fairly, trying to make sure none of them had a reason for Hermione to report the event to any of his fellow staff members. He was also downright hateful towards Malfoy, who obviously hadn't budgeted for his teacher figuring out who had set the whole thing up and was thoroughly unhappy. It did, however, reveal to Malfoy the fact that his plan had worked, and he kept catching the Gryffindors in the hallway and muttering things like, "Did you and Professor Snape have fun, Granger? Did he teach you anything new?"
Hermione had found a new hatred of Malfoy; she'd read a book on dream recall, and had deduced from the dream about her and Oliver that she and Snape had not, originally, been lying side by side. She was also quite ashamed of the fact that she'd gotten drunk, especially since Neville was still giving her funny, amazed looks, and she was worried about Snape's robe; she hadn't given it back, and Lavender and Parvati had a tendency to snoop through her trunk looking for clothes to borrow or things to tease her about. She still couldn't think of a way to get back at Malfoy, and eventually decided to see if maybe, just maybe, Professor Snape would be an ally in the prank war.
After the second potions class after the prank, nine days since she'd woken up in his bed and two days after Halloween, Hermione gathered up her courage approached Snape's desk with a plastic bag. "Professor?"
"What, Miss Granger," Snape said, his sallow skin tinged pink at the cheeks.
"Er… your robe," she said, whispering even though no one was around. "I've been meaning to give it back. Th… Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome, Miss Granger," Snape said stiffly. Suddenly, he burst out laughing, loud guffaws that sounded downright bizarre coming from him; Hermione couldn't ever remember him genuinely smiling (at least, not about something other than Harry, Ron, or Hermione getting in trouble), let alone laughing.
She couldn't help but grin. "It was funny, wasn't it? Looking back," she said sheepishly.
"I've never been so mortified in my entire life," Snape laughed. "Know what I did after you left? I got even more drunk, barged into the Slytherin common room, and started yelling at Draco, telling him that I didn't sleep with you and it was no one's business if I did or something; I can't fully remember." He shook his head, chuckling.
"I stumbled back to the common room and drunkenly explained to Harry, Ron and Ginny that we had to kill every Slytherin. Then they hid me in Harry and Ron's room and Neville came in and found me. He nearly died of shock. And you should've seen the look on Harry and Ron's face when they saw me in your robe. Ginny had told them I'd 'left' my clothes and wand on my bed."
"So Draco didn't destroy your stuff? Well, that's something."
She nodded, but she frowned. "The thing is… how did he get into the common room? He'd need the password, you know… and it's usually not related to anything to do with Gryffindor or whatever, we make them hard to figure out by an outsider, especially what with the prank war."
Snape blinked. "He didn't have to take you from the dormitory. Probably a bad idea, considering he'd have to get you all the way down here—how could he do that if you weren't wearing your clothes?" She was a bit startled to note that he wasn't blushing or being his usual standoffish self, but rather talking about things in a thoughtful and calm manner, almost like a friend trying to help her figure out why so-and-so had asked her out. For some reason, he reminded her strongly of Sirius.
"Even if he did wait until I was in your room to take my clothes—which is possible, I can't remember a thing about that night except for leaving dinner—he managed to get my robes and wand on my bed."
"Perhaps he had a Gryffindor accomplice. Not likely, I grant you, but it has been known to happen in the past. I don't suppose it really matters, does it? He was probably playing 'no harm, no foul.' If he'd destroyed your belongings or they were found in his possession, he could've been in serious trouble. The destruction of another's wand is a serious offense in the wizarding world. Now we can't even prove it was him."
"Oh, it matters how he did it. For one thing, if he could get into my dorm—and your room, too, mind—then he could do it again, and even though we were mostly all at dinner, how precisely did four Slytherins get past the Fat Lady? She's bound by the password, but I think she might've said something to someone about it. He's got some way of sneaking around no one knows about, and if he does, we're in it deep. I don't really think he would be stupid enough to risk barging into Gryffindor Tower like he owned the place—there's rarely a time when the whole House goes down to dinner at the same time, you know."
"'For one thing?' Meaning that for another, if you caught him in your room, you could have a field day with him. And four Slytherins? Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle make three."
She smiled. "The thought of catching him had crossed my mind. But I don't think it was one of them who went up to my room. I'm assuming it was Pansy Parkinson."
He nodded. "Boys aren't allowed in girls' rooms. But… how did you discover that?" Snape smiled at her and lifted an eyebrow.
Talk about surreal. Snape is actually teasing me! "Er, I read it in Hogwarts: A History," she said, though her voice sounded a little squeaky.
"Sure, Miss Granger, sure." He smiled as her face burned bright red.
"It's true!"
"And Mr. Weasley has never tried to break into your room?"
"No," she insisted. She paused. "He and Harry tried to tell me about something Umbridge had made a rule about back in fifth year. And Ron went flailing down the stone slide."
"Well, Draco may or may not have enlisted Miss Parkinson. He may have found a way."
Hermione nodded. "Yes, but it would've just been a lot of work for him, and Malfoy likes to take the easy road. Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordan had some sort of spell that let them into the girls' dorms whenever they pleased, but I think it's really complex. I haven't been able to even find it myself." She winced inwardly; she hadn't meant to mention that she'd been looking for just such a spell. Any hope that Snape hadn't picked up on it went out the window when he grinned at her teasingly.
"You can get a broomstick and fly right over those trick stairs, you know," he said lightly.
"You can?" Hermione said, sounding way too eager to know such a thing even to her own ears. Snape gave her another grin. She planted her hands on her hips defiantly. "And how, exactly, would you know about that, sir?"
He raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Touché, Miss Granger, touché."
She tried not to let her jaw drop open at the thought that Snape had flown up a few girls' dormitory staircases in his day. "Anyway, I want to know how Malfoy got in. From what I can tell, he probably wouldn't have used a spell to carry me."
"He's terrible at those; I've seen him practicing quite a few things in the common room," Snape agreed. "But he could have carried you himself, he's strong enough."
"Could have, maybe. Would have? Never. Draco Malfoy? Do his own dirty work? Touch a 'Mudblood?'" She scowled fiercely. "Yeah, right. He would have gotten someone else to do it, he'd never do it himself—then, not only would he avoid breaking a sweat, he could blame it on someone else if he was caught, which means he would have brought Crabbe and Goyle, maybe even just one of them. And even one of them would have a hard time squeezing under an invisibility cloak with Malfoy. They're both huge; I doubt even one of them would fit, and Malfoy's not exactly a small guy. So either Malfoy went to my bedroom alone after dropping me off, or he took Pansy Parkinson or she went alone, or they found a different way besides invisibility cloaks."
Snape nodded. "Polyjuice Potion, maybe?"
"Are you missing any boomslang skin?" Hermione asked innocently.
He gave her a dirty look, but he didn't seem truly angry. "You know it and I know it, professor, but you can't prove it," she said boldly.
"True," he replied, and shrugged, rolling his eyes. "No, my private stores are fine, but my cabinet is not the only place to pick up boomslang skin."
"Just the most convenient," she joked.
"Apparently." He shook his head and mock-glared at her for a moment, then smiled slightly. "I don't think Draco will try the same stunt again, though. He's been talking about it so much someone would probably turn him in for suspicion if it happened again. Besides, it was based on shock value; the prank would lose its humor if we weren't affected by it. And we'll both be watching Draco more closely now."
"Yes, but he's gonna be moving again soon. And if he can't figure out if he needs to get me the most, or you, or the others, then what? He'll opt for getting us all."
"Then we'd better get him first. Good lord, that was nine days ago. Haven't you moved yet? We've got to act."
"We?" she repeated hopefully.
"I owe him one," he said calmly. Then he grinned again. "Besides, if he realizes we're acting together, what I said to him that day will be all the more confusing."
"What exactly did you say?" she said slowly, suspicious.
"Er… something about I didn't sleep with you, honest," he emphasized the word ruefully, and Hermione's eyes widened with all the meanings one could pick up from that statement, "and that we were just, um, friends."
"Just friends?" she repeated incredulously. If she and Snape had ever been remotely close to being friends—at least, before now—she was Malfoy's wife. Oh, great—what must be running through Malfoy's head…
"Oh, shut up, I was drunk. Now, are we going to kick Draco Malfoy's sorry ass or what?"
He sounded so much like a teenager that Hermione couldn't help responding to him like a peer. "Yes, we most certainly are. A Slytherin ass-kicking is well past due."