So don't say I didn't warn you . . .
"I would have thought that Bill would have come up with a better plan than this," Snape remarked, looking up from the paperwork the next morning. "You told me the outline of the plan before, but just going through the runes and the Arithmancy, I would say that the chances of success aren't high at all."
"I didn't say it was foolproof," she admitted, rubbing her forehead. "Just that it was our best chance."
"The biggest problem is that there will be two of me running around," he observed. "And no way to tell the younger me the plan."
"Can't you just meet with your younger self beforehand and tell him everything?" she asked. "It is still you, surely he would cooperate."
"With all of your study of the timeturner, surely you know the effects of meeting your time-travelling self," he told her, looking at her severely.
"Some people have survived it," she admitted begrudgingly. "I would think you would be one who could survive."
"I do not put that much stock in myself," he replied with an eyebrow raised. "No, we have to figure out a different plan. One of delicate subterfuge, perhaps, it must be subtle or brilliant if it will convince me."
"And you're so brilliant that it will take something delicate and subtle, then will it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow back at him.
"You would suggest differently?" he drawled.
"I just don't think that younger you will be that much of a challenge for older you," she told him. "I don't think you'll see you coming."
"You forget what it was like at the time," he reminded her. "I was Headmaster of the school, but balancing on a knife's edge. I was trying to appear as a sadistic Deatheater to my colleagues, including the ones that I'd worked with for years. I'd killed Dumbledore to become trusted by the enemy, and he was my best friend. I was trying to balance being just cruel enough to keep my cover and to protect as many students as possible. Believe me, I was at peak paranoia at that time. I would see any threat coming from a mile away. And I would be unlikely to believe anything from any unverifiable source."
"There are two choices," Hermione surmised. "Either we knock him out and substitute you, or we convince him to do our plan."
"Both are fraught," Snape told her. "And unlikely for success."
"We have a timeturner," Hermione told him. "Is there a better time to go back to in order to set it up better?" she asked. "How about we go back a year before the battle? Two years?"
"Just more time to cross paths with our younger selves and cause more troubles to the timeline," he countered.
"There has to be a way to do it!" she insisted. "We have a timeturner!"
"I'm surprised in your grief, you didn't try to go back and save your friends in France," he told her, his voice gentling.
"I thought about it," she admitted. "But it would have been incredibly foolish. The timeturner is a one-time use only. I could go back and save them for now, but it would be temporary. We would have been found again. It is better to change the whole thing, save everyone."
"And there is that idealism that I remember so well," he smirked.
"Besides, I didn't have my wand back until this morning," she smirked back. "By the way, thank you for giving it back to me. I know that shows trust. I don't take it lightly."
"You're welcome," he told her. "I suppose that if you're really staying for a week, you would need it back. Although I suppose if you're sunk into grief, perhaps I was premature. I most likely will find myself with some horrible Jelly Legs Jinx by supper."
"Right now, I'm just pretending that they aren't really gone," she admitted, though she smiled at the idea of jinxing the Potions Master with a Jelly Legs Jinx. "I am not thinking about anything but the mission, and restoring what was lost at the Battle of Hogwarts."
"I can understand that," he agreed, remembering so many times where he put away his grief and concentrated on the mission before him.
"But in order to do this, I need your help," she told him. "Bill is one of the best at code-breaking, and I'm decent at Arithmancy, but neither of us is anywhere near your brain at strategy."
"We will need to re-analyze everything," he told her. "Recalculate all of the Arithmancy, and I want to see the decoding Mr. Bill Weasley did on the prophecy as well."
"We can definitely do that," she replied. "Although perhaps I wasn't completely honest."
"Really?" he drawled. "I thought Gryffindors prized their honesty."
"Perhaps I have become a bit more Slytherin since we lost the battle."
"Hmm, that's an interesting development," he countered. "Tell me more."
"I haven't just been thinking about my mission," she told him, looking down demurely and licking her lips. "I have been thinking of other things."
Snape instantly felt the shift in the room, and she had his full attention. Where did this chit learn how to flirt? "How to convince a former Professor to do an asinine mission in three easy steps, I suppose?" he asked with a smirk.
"Not exactly," she answered. "I've been thinking about our times together, along with my Arithmancy. Although I did steal a few of your books on Arithmancy last night."
"You did?" he asked, feeling the shift in the room.
"You know what I find really helpful to Arithmancy?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
"What would that be?" he asked, deciding to play along. This was certainly going somewhere very interesting.
"A ruler," she told him, showing him a long, polished, old-fashioned half-yard ruler. "I find the . . . lines I can make with it . . . helpful for the calculations."
"Are you flirting with me, Miss Granger?" he asked, amused.
"What do you mean?" she asked innocently. "Don't you like my strategies for Arithmancy?"
"It depends on what your aims are," his voice rumbled. He realized he had a choice to make: take her up on her offer, or spend the next few hours studying. Well, they had a week to study, and perhaps a bit of a study break would help them both focus better . . .
"All right, Miss Granger, up you get and bend over the desk."
"But why, Professor?" she asked innocently. "What did I do wrong?"
"Entirely too much cheek," he replied sternly. "And I believe I said no stealing my books, and that includes Arithmancy books. Now, no talking your way out of it; bend over the desk."
"Please don't spank me with the ruler," she told him, obviously asking for the ruler as she bent over the desk.
"Of course, I will spank you with the ruler," he told her brusquely. "But I will start with my hand to warm you up first."
"Please don't spank me on my bare bottom," she begged prettily. "Please, sir."
"Lift your skirt," he commanded her shortly, eyeing her plaid, kilt-style skirt. He realized she'd been anticipating this when she lifted her skirt to reveal lacy, pretty panties. He found his body react almost instantly to the sight of her bent over the desk. She was going to be the death of him. He had been able to think of little else since their encounter last night, and out of respect for her first time, he hadn't approached her again even as they had a quiet dinner together. He had wanted to give her time and space to process and for her body to recover from what had been an intense experience, but apparently, she was ready for another round.
He came behind her, taking in the sight of her smooth bottom presented to him. She squirmed a bit in anticipation as he came up, and he patted her backside affectionately.
"Please, not too hard," she simpered, smiling as she asked.
"It will be hard enough," he told her. "Cheeky girl."
With that, he began spanking her, softly at first, concentrating on the rounder parts of her bottom. She yelped softly as the intensity grew, wiggling her bottom in anticipation. He saw her skin grow pink from the smacks, and her legs spread apart slightly as her arousal grew. Smiling, he put his mouth close to her ear.
"Naughty girls get their spankings bare," he whispered to her as he slid her panties down her legs. She gasped at the movement, spreading her legs further apart, anticipating his touch. He did touch her then, softly, but not enough to sate her.
"But we aren't done yet," he told her, taking away his hand and spanking the more tender spots. He travelled down her thigh, inside her thigh, on the curve of her bottom. She began yelping more in earnest, pressing her palms against the desk as she closed her eyes. Her bottom was turning a lovely rosy shade as he kept his relentless spanking.
"Please, Professor," she begged.
"And then, the ruler," he said, picking up the implement from its place beside her.
"No, please," she protested. "My bottom is already so sore!"
"Then don't steal books," he lectured. "Tell me, Miss Granger, was the book green?"
"The book was green," she agreed. "Both of them."
"Then you will receive twelve with the ruler," he told her. "Six for each book. One."
He brought down the ruler with a snap across the round part of her bottom, making her jump at the sting. "Two, three," he counted, snapping the ruler with equal strength. Hermione kicked with the third one, and he rubbed her bottom against the sting. She pushed back against his hand, encouraging his touch. He gave her the touch she craved for a small while, then brought his hand back and gave her a few more swats with the ruler. He progressed this way, touching and rubbing and swatting, until by the time they reached twelve, she was nearly in a frenzy of lust. He was feeling nearly the same, watching her squirming on the desk had nearly undone his self-control.
"Would you like me to relieve you?" he asked her, his voice low and full of his own need. His hand was touching her and readying her for him, encouraging her legs to spread and doing the necessary spells. "May I enter you from behind?"
"Yes, yes, please!" she begged. "Please, I want you!"
He needed no further encouragement, and with a wave of his hand, his own member was freed. In another heartbeat, he was sunk deep into her. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her, and as he began to thrust, she cried out as the waves began to crash over her. She could feel him grasp her hips to steady her, and the feeling of the roughness of his legs against the tenderness of her recently spanked backside pushed her even more. She pushed back against him as she cried out until she felt completely wrung out, with nothing left. With a few more powerful thrusts, Snape gasped and shuddered himself, pushing himself firmly against her backside.
Hermione found herself then, lying on a bed that the desk had been transformed into, Snape still deep within her. He cuddled around her protectively, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, sighing contentedly. She moaned a bit in pleasure, enjoying some of the aftershocks of her body, and cuddled back into him.
"Is it always like this?" she asked dreamily. "Does it always feel this good?"
"No," he answered her honestly. "Most of the time it doesn't feel this good."
"Then why does it feel so good between us?" she asked, confused.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I have been with several women, though I am by no means an expert. There is something different between you and me. Coming together usually feels good, otherwise, people wouldn't do it. But there is something . . . different here."
"George Weasley used to say Gryffindors were the best lovers," Hermione laughed. "Maybe that's it."
Snape smiled, thinking of the red-haired twin that had been one of the banes of his existence when he had been a professor, and felt affection for the lad. He had fought bravely in the battle and had fallen beside his twin. They had protected Ron as long as they could, just as they did with Harry on the Quidditch field.
"Can we be here, just for a bit?" she asked. "I know we have work to do, but I love being here with you like this."
"Of course we can, for as long as you like," he answered, nuzzling her hair.
He did love being with her, and he told himself he would give himself every moment of enjoyment that he could have with Hermione while she was there. He would pack as many memories as he could with this extraordinary young woman before the inevitable would happen – he would break it to her that he was not going with her on her harebrained scheme, and she would inevitably leave him. The years ahead would be cold and lonely, he would spend much of them looking back at this time with her fondly. Because, as wonderful as this dream felt, he knew that it wasn't real. She could no more have feelings for him than she could have them for a real bat; she was simply exploring something she had always fantasized about, and he was convenient. She had come here to seduce him into her mission, and it had been a happy coincidence that her interests had lined up so conveniently with his. And now, he was teaching her in this just as he taught her in Potions. He was too old, too broken, and too, well, too Snape to be of any use long-term to a woman like Hermione. But he would certainly enjoy the week with her.