Disclaimer: Nothing you read here belongs to me; the characters are merely toys for a girl who's long outgrown her Barbies.
A/N: Over 500 reviews! You guys humble me! You are so, so, so, so amazing. Thank you, every one of you who has taken the time to tell me that this story is worth the effort. I hope you all continue to enjoy it as it goes along. I love you guys!
The beginning of this chapter takes us back a few days from where we left Ron and Verity. The Press Conference has not yet taken place; I did want to clarify that before we move on. Thanks. This one was fun to write, I hope you like it.
Thank you again. *Curtsies*
~ fresh new lily ~
True to his word Severus set up a small work space just beside his in the back of the shop so that Hermione could work while he brewed. Hermione beamed at him when she saw that not only has he left her his own school books that were no doubt filled with copious notes and revisions of his own he had left her several leather bound notebooks overflowing with information. It was however the bottle of blood orange soda, obviously charmed to stay cold that really touched her. It was a gesture she was sure he would not make for anyone else under his tutelage. It wasn't a rose or a bouquet of daisies but it touched her just the same. She contemplated telling him what a wondrous sweetheart he was, but settled for a soft kiss on the cheek and a whispered "thank you," before sitting down and readying her workstation.
She had decided against starting with potions. Since it was to be her main focus she decided to leave it till last so that she was better prepared to give it the proper attention. Besides, she knew that at the level she wished to study potions it would be wise to get a good solid foundation of both Arithmancy and charms, for while she knew Severus would have no 'silly wand waving' in his class when he had taught at Hogwarts, there would be a great deal of difficult charms work with some of the more advanced potions she hoped would be a part of her Apprenticeship. Of course, if she really wanted to get into difficult and obscure potions that would also mean a very good understanding of runes as some more complex potions had runes woven into them. Then there was the fact that so many Potioneers did what they could to safeguard their own personal grimoires. Grimoire des Herbes Magiques was transcribed in a variation of the Elder Futhark runic alphabet that was believed to have been used by the ancient Wizards of Pompeii. And then she certainly couldn't discount Herbology, as that most definitely played in closely with potions. After all, any Potioneer worth his or her salt would grow and harvest their own ingredients where possible. Then certainly that too meant she should perhaps seek out Hagrid for a tutoring session or two on Magical Creatures, for she had seen fist hand that a true understanding of the magical beasts of the world could help her to create some of the most amazing potions known. After all she never would have had the opportunity to conceive if Severus hadn't known what to do with that majestic creature that night.
Hermione finished setting things just the way she wanted them and looked up to find Severus leaning against the wall beside his desk, smirking at her with that devilishly raised eyebrow of his, obviously taking great delight in her preparations. "What?" she asked him laughingly, knowing that he was smirking like that at her for some reason.
"You really are a little know-it-all Hermione," he told her, though his voice was light and conveyed a familiarity they had not shared when she was his student years before. "Should we enlist the whole of the Hogwarts staff to ensure that you are fully prepared for your Apprenticeship? Do you really doubt my tutelage, or are you simply determined to be the most ridiculously prepared Potions Mistress in all of Europe?" he queried.
Hermione looked hurt for a moment, and then her hand flew to her mouth to hide a fit of giggles. "I said that all out loud didn't I?" she asked sheepishly.
Severus chuckled lowly. "You did indeed my dear. And while I applaud your gusto it is much more prudent to study what you need to earn your NEWTS is it not? Then we can certainly delve into more in-depth areas of research that will pertain specifically to your Apprenticeship, and specialized course of study," he explained as he worked his way around his bench to take his seat. "Besides, we have our whole lives to make you the most celebrated Potions Mistress in the world." Neither of them mentioned that he said they had their whole lives together to do it, but Hermione couldn't help the small smile that played on her lips; she was quite sure it was a promise that Severus would keep.
"Right then," she stated simply as she set about her task of organizing her work space and dividing up her materials by subject so that she could tackle them one at a time.
Hermione was well into her revision on Transfiguration, deciding that having the least to do with the art of Potions it was as good a place as any to start. Truthfully, though she wouldn't admit it out loud, she also thought that some time immersed in Transfigurations might help to restore her faith in her capabilities as a witch. She had been so out of sorts the last few years, that she hardly felt a witch at all. If she was honest she hardly was a witch. Her powers seemed to have atrophied over time from disuse and depression making her feel little more than a Squib. Now however, as her strength was returning and with the use of her new wand, she was eager to regain much of that which she had thought lost. She started at the beginning, tackling first year spells and theories.
Severus shook his head when he saw her transfiguring matchsticks into sewing needles, especially after watching her transfigure the matchsticks from parchment scraps. He was fairly certain that bit of magic was not something that Minerva taught her first years. None the less it made him happy to see her apply herself, knowing that she was finally hoping for a real future.
He was glad to help her along in her pursuits, especially when she so desperately needed a distraction from her troubles. Having her right where he could keep a careful eye on her to ensure she didn't come to any harm wasn't hurting either. He knew it would take time before things were normal again, what-ever normal truly was for them, but he was glad of the progress she had made so far. It did not seem to him that there was any reason the two of them shouldn't be able to work side by side for many years to come. It was little over an hour after their arrival and already the scratches of her little yellow Muggle pencil against her parchment was nothing more than the part of the background noise that let him know she was safe and well. He wasn't sure when he had become such a sodding Hufflepuff, but he supposed that if it meant a shared loyalty with this witch, it was a quality he could learn to tolerate within himself.
More time had passed quietly, each busy with their own pursuits, Hermione well on her way into second year Transfiguration and Severus pouring over his ledgers and inventories. Every now and then he would break from the monotony to stir one of the potions lightly simmering on his work bench only to return to his stack of papers without missing a beat, when an insistent tapping at the window alerted them to an owl. Severus assumed it to be an order coming in, it was the reason he had relented with the very small window in his otherwise secure workspace. Muttering under his breath about the annoyance of ruddy birds Severus rose from his seat and crossed to the other side of the room, his hand lightly skimming Hermione's shoulders as he passed her by, to open the window and relieve the insistent owl of its burden.
It was not however an order. It wasn't even for him. The brown bird carried with it a small scroll baring Hermione's name and a copy of the mornings Prophet, something he was quite sure she did not subscribe to. Having untied both from the bird and shooed the nuisance out the window Severus reached his arm around Hermione to drop the scroll on top of her notes. "This is for you, I am sure it came with a warning about whatever nonsense I am sure to find printed in this rag," he explained as he opened the paper, a snarl gracing his features before he was even entirely sure what there was to be angry about.
Hermione looked up and noticed Severus standing behind her as she grabbed the scroll and undid the ribbon, which in itself was a dead giveaway to the sender's identity as she was certain she only knew one man who was gaudy enough to send a letter tied with a purple and orange polka-dotted ribbon. "George," she muttered as she unfurled the short missive.
My darling little sister – slayer of bats,
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, if one can call the Prophet news, but I couldn't have you going out unprepared. I can't figure out how she got her information Hermione, because I know that not one of us who was there would have talked, but she managed it somehow and she's gone and printed her colourful version of events for all of Britain to read. It's disgusting really and Kings swears they are going to look into the methods she is using to collect the information for her vivid retelling of events. It's all twisted and deformed like her little head of course. I wish we could have stopped it before it hit the presses, but you know how that rag is, they print everything. It wouldn't be so bad, I don't suppose, without the pictures. I swear Hermione this bint has it out for you something awful. You must tell me what it is you've done to earn yourself such a devoted fan in her, because if this articles anything to go by she's been watching you for years and gathering information. Like she was just waiting for the right bit to pull it all together for her most sensational bit of tripe since the book on 'ol Dumbly came out. It really is a piece, 'Mione. Sorry. We'll figure something out. Keep your chin up. We'll do lunch on Wednesday and hatch a good plan, if nothing else I'm sure that surly Potioneer (who is reading this over your shoulder, I'm sure) can whip up a nice treat for the woman and do us all a favor. It's his civic duty I say.
All my love,
George
Hermione was fuming. She knew she shouldn't be surprised. That she had been left alone for this long was a wonder as she had been informed two years prior that the bug eyed reporter had turned herself into the Ministry, camera crew in tow, to admit that she was an unregistered Animagus. She of course has stated immunity due to her status as journalist, and her responsibility to the public at large to bring them the information they needed with a war on. Of course no one in the ministry had bought into any of her excuses, but seeing as she had turned herself in and submitted herself to the admittedly grueling process of registering and having every little identifying marker photographed and measured, which must have been especially hard given the size of her form, they had simply forced her to pay a hefty fine and publicly disclose her methods to the public. Thus 'The Beetles Brew' had been born. It was a pathetic excuse for a gossip column, buried in the society pages, but Rita was happy none the less and had built a steady readership back up over the years.
Without the threat of turning Skeeter over to the ministry to hold over her head Hermione was surprised to note that she didn't feature in any of the frauds columns. This was the first story that the vile woman had bothered to write about Hermione since the end of the war, and surprisingly most of those stories had been tribute pieces to the 'Hero's from Hogwarts', and aside from being sensationalized rubbish they were not at all unfavorable. Since then there hadn't been anything written regarding Hermione really. Harry of course featured regularly in the Prophet, he was after all still the boy who lived – twice, and a hero Auror to boot. Ginny as well, both for her status as Mrs. Potter and through her own growing fame with the Harpies had made the society pages more than once. Ron was always being mentioned connected to some high profile case or another. However, it would seem that housewife Hermione was not nearly as entertaining as Hero Hermione or Harlot Hermione. She had been glad of that at least.
Now however, it would seem that Rita had not in fact given up on her desires to smear Hermione's name.
Severus was near shaking in his fury. He had known that his relationship with Hermione was bound to end up twisted and distorted in the papers. He had been more than prepared for the public to despise him for breaking up their happy little Golden Trio and seducing the Gryffindor Princess. It would have been nothing new. Even Minerva had been prepared to think as much, and she was his friend – sort of. He was not however prepared for the past two years of his life to have been tracked so thoroughly. He certainly hadn't prepared himself for the pictures. When he figured out how the woman had gotten the pictures he was sure to find the most deplorable potions imaginable to use the photographer and the so-called journalist's body parts in.
The article wasn't buried in the ridiculous society pages either. No, it was front page, above the fold, breaking news. Severus was seething as he stared at the photo, the people in it so still and somber it would have been difficult to tell it was a Wizarding photograph at all if it wasn't for the wind rippling the fabric of Hermione's dress or the blowing of the leaves on the large tree in the background. It was nearly impossible to notice the way Hermione's whole body trembled in her pain, or to notice Severus whispering softly in her ear as she shed her tears, but these things he would always know. They hadn't been meant for anyone else's eyes though. He shouldn't have been surprised that the beetle made it through the wards, how she had managed to get a camera there was another matter entirely. On closer inspection it seemed possible that the photograph had been taken from the other side of the small graveyard, beyond the boundaries of the protective charms. He swore under his breath.
Severus hadn't bothered to read the article attached to the photographs. And there were more than enough photographs to offer the public what they would see as proof of an illicit affair between a supposedly married witch and her one time professor. His eyes were slowly roaming over various images of the two of them laughing over a shared meal, taken long before they began a romantic relationship, images of her coming out of his shop, a beaming smile gracing her features. Separately the pictures didn't prove much, but together he had to admit that they seemed to portray a love affair in the making. The image of that first kiss, the one that had shocked him to his core, again left him breathless and blindsided. Severus was still staring angrily at the images when Hermione took the paper from his hands. "Should have seen this coming miles off," she muttered. And indeed, they should have.
Hermione couldn't help note that if it hadn't made her so completely mad she would have quite liked the picture of herself and Severus having lunch, it was obvious to her they were debating something, because that was the only time, back then anyhow, that Severus' face really lit up to the point where one could almost say he looked quite happy.
Heartless Harlot or New Nimue – A shocking Expose by Rita Skeeter
One might wonder what happened to the so called 'Princess of Gryffindor' - Hermione Granger-Weasley, who seemed to disappear into obscurity following the defeat of Lord Voldemort and her fairy tale wedding to the besotted Ronald Weasley, Order of Merlin, First Class, and known strategist of the Golden Trio. It seemed so odd for her to hide away and play the part of a happy house-wife, a role so many Witches would be proud of – the wife of a War hero and all, but for a well-known strumpet it seemed all too out of character indeed. Well dear readers, I am here to tell you the real story behind the lost years of the vicious vixen and her bid for power.
Now you all know about her terrible treatment of Harry Potter during the Tri-Wizards Tournament; for more information on the coming Tournament, to be held at the Prestigious Ilvermorny in Massachusetts across The Pond, see page 4c; and we of course know of horrific handling of the Favorite to win the Tournament, Quidditch Star – Victor Krum. Perhaps what no but me has noticed is what happens to the Wizards who fall into her deadly trap. Is it a coincidence that Victor Krum lost the competition with a young Miss Granger by his side? I think not! It has also come to my attentions that a young Miss Granger used the politically connected, and devilishly handsome, Cormac McLaggen to infiltrate the highly selective and secretive Slug Club in her sixth year at Hogwarts. She preyed on his boyhood bemusement with her to further her own personal stature. Once she had gained admittance however she cast him aside and used her influence over Harry Potter to have him kept of the Quidditch pitch in his final year of school.
Which does bring into question the little lady's control over the Savior of the Wizarding World; is it possible that the tides of war could have been shifted by the disgusting deviance of a dark soul hiding in the guise of a Muggleborn Witch? For more on how the War was nearly lost see page 8b.
But of course, I know that you all desperately want to know about the years she has seemed to disappear. Following her wedding to poor Ronald Weasley, who had like so many before him, fallen victim to her chilling charms, Hermione Granger-Weasley began spinning a new spider's web to snare her prey. So subtle were her malicious moves that even the most careful of Wizards was secretly caught. Or so she thought. I have managed to compile proof of the dastardly destruction of her husband and the salacious seduction of the Dark Hero, Severus Snape. That's right readers, I – Rita Skeeter – have ample proof that Ronald Weasleys fall from grace and the Warrant for his Arrest can all be traced back to the bewildering betrayal and atrocious affair between his horrid harridan of a wife and her one time professor.
Reports started coming in to my office years ago from concerned citizens like yourselves who noticed the newly-wed Witch making many more trips to the local Apothecary than were entirely necessary. At first I thought that she must be carrying the newest generation of Weasley but as reports that her purchases were for simple healing potions and calming draughts I began to wonder if perhaps she wasn't using darker means than her purported prowess for passion to keep her Wizard shackled to her. Was Hermione more than just a heartless harlot masquerading as a meek little mouse? I think so. It is my belief, and I implore you to let my evidence speak for itself, that Hermione Granger-Weasley is in fact as dark a witch as they come. Oh I do understand your skepticism, for who can picture the shining starlet of the Light as a dark witch? It is especially hard to imagine with memories of the devastatingly deranged Bellatrix Lestrange still so terribly fresh in our minds. But, one mustn't let appearances fool you, for Merlin himself was ensnared by the womanly wiles of one of the darkest Witches the world has ever known. So it begs the question, is Hermione Granger-Weasley simply a heartless harlot, or is she in fact a new Nimue, poised to poison the Heroes of the Wizarding world and rise to power, a new Dark Lady to destroy our world?
The chilling tale of her years out of the public eye starts with the destruction of her Husband, who not long after they wed began a debilitating downward spiral of demise. His work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, once lauded as worthy of his status as hero, began to slip. It wasn't all that noticeable at first, oh no. But who can forget that terrible snafu with the mishandling of evidence in the case against the Dursbury boy a year ago, when Auror Weasley failed to put a proper stasis on the potions used to ply the little Muggle girl that he was accused of drugging to make her love him? And now, Auror Weasley stands accused of using illicit potions himself; perhaps it is actually the work of the little strumpet who began frequenting the Apothecary and the shop keeper's bed. After taking it upon myself to keep a closer eye on the goings on in Diagon Alley I was lucky enough to capture the image of a secret lovers kiss, and I beg any one to argue the darkness surrounding her, the way the very air around her seems to crackle with her power – a sure sign that she has been practicing the darkest of magics.
There is no disputing the pictures after all, of a scheming sorceress in all her glory, hair wildly whipping about as she seduces the Wizard believed to be the most powerful alive today.
The story continued on in that vein, with Rita alliterating her accusations, calling Hermione the most atrocious of names. She painted a picture of a villainess set out to take over the Wizarding World. In her story, for that's all it was Hermione kept telling herself, Hermione had used men's affections to further her own goals, thinking Ronald the perfect Wizard to help her reach power she married him, but soon after moving to Diagon alley she set her sights on what she decided was a surer way to rule; the most darkly powerful Wizard alive. So, as the story went on, she slowly worked to destroy her husband all the while seducing Severus. Once she was ready to completely ruin Ronald, with the knowledge that his child was not actually his but the illegitimate love child of the dark wizard she had seduced to her will, she miscalculated and he bravely struck back. He managed to escape with his life, but in the battle that ensued Hermione's child was lost. It was a terrible tragedy born of the evil that Hermione had wrought. Now Ronald was on the run, having been set up for attempted murder by his abusive and controlling wife and her lover.
The story should have left her furious; certainly Severus, who was reading over her shoulder, was simply seething with anger. Hermione however was transfixed by the image of her kissing him. She was a little pale, and her hair did seem especially charged with static, she supposed it could be described as 'crackling with power.' It was however the look of awe and delight that crossed her face just after she had kissed him and the look of shock and desire on his that had her smiling despite the horrendous article that accompanied the pictures. She chose not to look at the image of the two of them, holding onto each other following the burial of her child; she didn't need to see the picture, it was still so fresh in her mind.
Severus knew that later she would be distraught over the story, but he couldn't help but be grateful that for the moment she seemed almost happy, though he was struggling to understand why.
"They're beautiful," she whispered, and he had to wonder what she thought was beautiful about his scowling visage as she attacked him with her kiss, though the memory of that moment did bring him a smug satisfaction. "I mean, I can't fathom how she got all these, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I knew I was asking for trouble when I kept that beetle bottled for two weeks. She was just so nasty," she went on, begging to ramble as her mind worked to make heads or tails of what she was seeing. "I imagine it's easier now that the world knows about her form, and really it's so small and ordinary she would blend in without notice anywhere. Still, to take the pictures…" her words drifted off as her thoughts muddled in her head. "They are nice pictures though. Maybe I should start a scrapbook. Something I can look back on when I'm old and grey, and remember what it was like to fall in love with you. I'll have to cut out the atrocious article of course."
"Of course," he agreed blandly as his own mind plotted the best way to squash a bug. A quick flick of his wrist saw the images cleanly extracted from the paper moments before the rest of it turned to ashes in her hands. "That's about enough of that tripe I think." He flicked his wrist again and the images fluttered to lie neatly atop the stack of books on Hermione's desk.
Hermione turned her head to watch the images settle in their little pile with a small smile upon her face and Severus used her moment of distraction to pull her to him. She was soft and warm as she pressed into his embrace. He couldn't quite understand how she was so calm about the article, he expected her to storm the offices of the prophet and hex the smirk of that horrid woman's face. He supposed he shouldn't be too taken aback by her reaction, she was still so drained, and he supposed that the pictures, if they hadn't been a complete violation of his privacy, weren't completely terrible. He had never before been photographed with a woman, unless you counted a photo snapped of a surly young Severus Snape standing next to Narcissa at some Solstice celebration of the Malfoy's what seemed like a lifetime ago. He knew though that once it all sunk in the anger would come for her too; and he couldn't quite wait to help her destroy the pathetic gossipy wench. He could easily remember that behind the know-it-all persona was a ruthlessly vindictive witch. Who could forget the way she led Umbridge into the forest in her fifth year after all.
Right now though she was still reeling from all that had happened, and if she needed the happiness that a few stolen photos of secret moments could bring her, then who was he to argue that. But he knew that in time she would be more her old self and he couldn't help but be thankful that he would be allowed to be by her side when her vengeance happened. Besides, he certainly didn't need her to go flying off half-cocked to the offices of the Prophet, not when he was more than capable of intimidating the reporter himself, and not when he would find so much enjoyment in it.
For now he was content to just hold his witch in his arms and revel in her warmth. Severus brought his hand up to brush his fingertips softly along her jaw. Slowly he tilted her head up from its resting place on his shoulder and looked longingly into her eyes. One thing was certain, she was his, as surely as he was hers, and he was not about to let some pathetic excuse for a reporter cause her distress or drag her name through the mud any more than he would allow Ronald Weasley or Dolohov's long lost daughter to hurt her again.
Hermione could see the truth of his feelings in his eyes and didn't wait for him to lower his head to hers; she slowly rose up on her toes and pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Severus responded eagerly, his lips moving gently against hers. When his tongue pressed against her lips, silently asking her for more, he could taste the faintest hint of her blood orange soda and something sweet like honey that was just Hermione and he couldn't help the quiet grunt of appreciation that tore from somewhere deep within him.
Hermione felt like she was floating. His kisses were heavenly and as he deepened the kiss she could feel the way her body began to react, a pleasant thrum of energy coursing through her veins. She didn't care if the whole of England's magical community thought her to be a 'heartless harlot' because in these arms she was free. She was home.
Hermione continued to press into Severus, melting into him as her hands wove around his back and latched onto him for support, as if she would fall without him to hold onto. She kissed him eagerly, reveling in the feeling of being a woman with this man, free from so much of the pain that had been haunting her; simply knowing only his kisses. Such sweet, drugging kisses that threatened to sweep her away in the heady sensations. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed away all her worries and fears. She knew she should be upset about the article, and she knew she later would be, but for now all she cared about were this man's kisses. Besides, who was she to complain about the gift of a picture of her first kiss with Severus?
Hermione let herself enjoy the moment, knowing that soon enough she would have to face the ramifications of the dreadful article. When she could no longer hold off her body's reactions to his kiss, mainly the slow leaking of her breasts, she pulled away with a beautiful blush upon her cheeks. "Severus," she breathed as she looked into his eyes and pulled her lip between her teeth.
Severus caught his breath and quickly leant down to press a kiss along her jaw, then behind her ear, and on her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin, "Go and take care of that," he said, holding back his desire to help her relieve the pressure in her breasts in a much more natural manner, still not entirely understanding where that new desire had come from. He did lift his hand to softly cup her breast through her shirt, his thumb barely brushing over the damp fabric covering her nipple pulling a strangled moan from her throat. "Go on," he said again. "I'm going to finish up my brewing then perhaps I can help you to revise, if you would appreciate the assistance that is?" he offered. Really he was glad for the opportunity to have a moment alone, he very much wanted to send an owl out to Kingsley and see what his friend thought they might do about the article. He wasn't going to take it sitting down, that much he knew.
Hermione, still a little breathless, smiled at him. "I would very much like that Severus," she told him as she quickly turned to gather her things and headed to the door that she knew led up to small living quarters.
The sultry tone of her voice left Severus standing there for a few minutes contemplating just what it was she would like very much, his mouth on her hot and aching skin, or NEWTS revision.
A/N: Alright. I hope you enjoyed this. Please do review and let me know what you think. The press conference is coming up, and in case anyone is wondering, so is the time when Hermione will be emotionally healed enough to enjoy a little more than heated kisses. Any input would be greatly appreciated. Love you guys, truly.
BTW: I would love some cover art for this story, if anyone has the talents and the time and of course the desire to do so, it would simply tickle me pink : )
~ fresh new lily ~