The dungeons weren�t the most inviting of places at the best of times; even less so when it was a beautiful weekend outside, beckoning urgently for her to come frolic in the icy lake or sunbathe by the waterside.
Hermione walked down to the Potions classroom with all of the enthusiasm of a flobberworm.
Having reached the conclusion last night that she needed to see Professor Snape about this strange dream business, come daybreak, she was quickly having a change of heart.
In the light of day, things that had seemed so important faded into triviality.
So, she was dreaming about him.
Big deal.
She�d dreamt about Sirius Black, didn�t mean that she�d wanted to kiss him. She�d dreamt about Harry and the squid; it didn�t mean that she wanted that to happen either.
She knocked on the door to the Potions classroom and waited patiently for Professor Snape to answer.
�Enter.�
He sounded far more distracted than usual, and so she pushed open the door cautiously, wary of his well-known and much-demonstrated temper. She had taken only a few steps before stopping dead in her tracks.
Professor Snape was standing on the other side of the room in what could only be described as Wizard �casual wear�. His hair was slicked back into a pony tail, one midnight tendril falling down his cheek like a smear of soot on a marble statue. His robes had long been discarded and he was dressed in black form-fitting trousers and a white shirt, tantalisingly open at the neck to reveal a dusting of black hair.
The room was humid, the air felt damp, and Hermione could see a large cauldron on one table surrounded by a cloud of purple smoke, which would explain the heat.
But not the warmth that swamped her as she stared at this new incarnation of her Potions Professor. He looked� he looked� hot!
He glanced up to see her standing in the middle of the room and his expression relaxed, an almost smile coming to his lips. �Miss Granger.�
Whether it was the heat, the open shirt, or the slight smile, Hermione felt herself blush at this simple greeting.
�Uh�hello, P-Professor Snape,� she stammered and wiped her suddenly sweaty hands on her jeans.
�Did you wish to speak to me about something?� he asked silkily.
Possibly, Hermione thought. The problem was that she was having trouble remembering her own name right now.
�Um�I�uh� yes?� she said, unsure herself.
Professor Snape, who would usually scowl and tell her to stop wasting his time, just nodded. �Actually I�m glad you stopped by. There was something that I wished to speak with you about.�
�Yes, sir?�
�As part of our Potions research, we need to gather ingredients. I thought that tonight would be an excellent opportunity.�
Hermione�s heart jumped. �Let me guess� in the forbidden forest?�
�Yes.� He turned to quickly stir his potion.
Right. Gathering potions ingredients in the forbidden forest.
�So when is your next potions induced conversation slash research session?�
�Tomorrow,� he said absently, still toying with her hair. �I�ll take her into the forbidden forest to gather ingredients.�
�Romantic moonlight?�
�Of course.�
Hermione brushed the remnants of her dream away and swallowed.
�Tonight. S-sure.�
He looked up at her with thinly veiled curiously. Her tone had sounded so odd to him just then, and he had become something of a connoisseur of the modular tones of Miss Granger in recent times. There was the barely excited tone, the barely interested tone, and so on and so forth. This one, however, was new. It seemed almost� preoccupied.
�Miss Granger, are you well?�
�Sure�erm� it�s just hot in here.�
Hmm, she didn�t seem too hot and yet her face was flushed. Severus just nodded. Well, it was hot in there; it had to be for the optimum benefit of the potion he was brewing.
�The potion has to simmer at this temperature in order to combat some of the ingredients� potential acidity.�
Despite herself, Hermione became very interested. It wasn�t often that one got to learn from a master of the craft -- and if there was one thing that Severus Snape was, it was master of his craft. The man exuded passion for his subject to such an extent that she couldn�t help but be swept along by the tide of his fervour.
�What potion?� she asked.
�Wolfsbane,� he answered somewhat sourly. �I am trying to modify it for Mr Lupin.�
Hermione face lit up. �Really? That�s great.� She paused. �Modify it as in trying to make it taste better, or modify it as in, like, making him green?�
There was an uncomfortably brief pause in which she thought that she had mortally offended him. She had quickly opened her mouth to apologise, when she heard a sound she had only ever heard before in her dreams.
Snape laughing.
Not just a giggle, or chuckle, but a full out clutch-your-stomach laugh. He threw his head back and the walls resounded with the melodic baritone.
The lines on his face smoothed, the haunted and gaunt look faded and in the place of the sarcastic greasy git was a good-humoured dark angel, straight from some gothic fantasy.
Hermione bit her lip at the sight and felt her heart give a funny lurch.
Snape wiped his eyes. �Oh, Merlin, why didn�t I think of that? I could make him a different colour for each phase of the moon.�
�Poor Remus,� Hermione gently chided, but she could see the amusement in it. �Imagine him ready to go to a Ministry function whilst a putrid shade of green.�
Snape sniggered�actually sniggered. �Or pink. I could see him in pink.�
Hermione blinked. �Do you actually have ingredients that would turn someone pink?�
He noted the interested sound on her voice and smirked, looking much more like the Professor she had come to know. �Why do you ask?�
�Harry and Ron were getting on my nerves a bit yesterday.�
�Pink Potter?�
She could see that he was torn by that; torn between helping her to get revenge on Harry Potter, and potentially helping a student break the rules.
He struggled for a moment and then sagged, his honour getting the better of him.
Dammit.
Hermione giggled at the reluctantly resigned look on his face and leaned over to see the potion he was making.
�What step are you at now, sir?�
�It needs to be stirred in a figure of eight at a certain speed for fifty-three seconds.� He paused as if a thought occurred to him. �Would you care to do it?�
Her eyes lit up brightly. Help a master at work; really aid on the potion?
�Yes, please!�
�Here.� He motioned for her to stand in front of the cauldron and held out a steel stirring rod. The mixture in the cauldron was deepest purple with ivory flecks. It swirled enigmatically as she stared into its depths.
�It�s beautiful,� she breathed in appreciation.
�Hmm,� was his noncommittal answer. He wasn�t staring at the potion, rather at the student not a foot away from him. She was actually beautiful. Oh, maybe not in the classic way, but then he wasn�t exactly Gilderoy Lockhart himself. Her hair in all its wild glory hinted at something untameable in her manner, a lure to those who craved passion in their partners.
Her hands weren�t quite as steady as they usually were and she kept staring at him out of the corner of her eye.
Bemused, Severus moved closer, trying not to smirk at the hitch in her breath.
Was the little Gryffindor disturbed by his presence, or was there something else here? He decided to check it out for himself.
�Stir in a figure of eight at three rotations every two seconds,� he ordered as silkily as possible and was rewarded with a light shiver of her shoulders. �This breaks down the powdered moonshine and allows the hellebore root to react.�
Hermione grasped the rod firmly and began to stir, the steel making waves in the thick liquid.
She tried to make sure that she wasn�t stirring too fast or too slow, and ended up splashing.
�No, no, smoothly does it. Here.� He leaned over her, wrapping his long fingers over her smaller ones firmly but gently. He pressed himself closer to her so that she could feel his heat radiating through her back. She could smell the scent of fresh leaves and wondered at the dour professor smelling like outdoors when he never seemed to leave the dungeons. It was a healthy, earthy scent and she found herself inhaling deeply at the comfort of it.
His low voice rumbled in her ear as he moved her hand in a circular motion, relishing her heat as she unknowingly leaned into him. �Smoothly does it, jolting movements inhibit the potion�s success. Loving strokes soothe the passage of the acid and ensure the velvet texture of the concoction.�
He felt the corners of his mouth lift in a grin against her hair as he heard the rather audible swallow she gave at his words. He had intended them to be somewhat seductive and was relieved and inordinately pleased to see that he hadn�t lost his touch at all. If he moved one arm, even an inch, it almost felt as if she was in his embrace. He inhaled the honey scent of her and felt his grin widen.
Hermione was embarrassed beyond belief to find herself reacting to the soft purring of his voice. Gods, he sounded so�so� perfect. A brief shiver sped down her arms eliciting goose bumps over her skin. She could feel Snape�s lips curve against her hair.
�Cold, Miss Granger?�
Hermione shook her head quickly and tried to focus on the potion, not the feel of the man�no! Professor-- behind her.
His other hand came up and trailed down her arm, running over her bicep and down towards her wrist, lingering over her elbow.
�Don�t do that,� she muttered, �I�m ticklish.�
They both froze and time itself seemed to stand still for a moment as her words echoed in the otherwise still room, the only other sound the crackle of fire.
Snape stepped back slowly and Hermione allowed herself a tortured breath as she regained her personal space.
She let go of the stirring rod and backed away from the table.
�I really should get going. Thanks for letting me do that.� She kept her head down as she stumbled towards the door. She yanked it open, not even recalling when it had closed, clutching at the iron handle like it was a life-line.
�Miss Granger?�
Hermione didn�t release her grip on the handle even as she stopped.
�Sir?�
He waited, not speaking until she turned around to look at him. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling, and she wore a confused expression which rendered her even more adorable to his eyes.
He smirked. �Don�t forget tonight. Nine o� clock, here.�
She nodded, then turned on her heel and quickly fled the dungeons.
Snape grinned after her at her confusion. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the table in satisfaction.
So, little Miss Granger wasn�t as immune to him as he had thought.
That would make things interesting.
>>
Nine o�clock rolled around far too quickly for Hermione, who had spent most of the day in a daze. She had been watched thoughtfully by Harry, who had become even more protective of her since their escapade in the Department of Mysteries back in fifth year.
He had never forgiven himself for getting her in so much trouble and, not to mention, almost getting her killed by Death Eaters. The hours that he had spent by her side in the infirmary had been punctuated by vows of friendship, promises to listen to her counsel, and pleas for her to forgive him.
She, of course, had forgiven him, and nothing more had been said about it.
Nevertheless, Harry had begun to watch her more closely, and some thought that he had developed a crush on her.
So when Hermione stood to leave the Gryffindor common room at quarter to nine, it had been Harry who had noted.
�Hermione, where are you off to?�
She smiled at him. �Collecting potion ingredients with Professor Snape.�
�Urgh.� Ron shuddered. �Wouldn�t get me volunteering to spend time with the greasy git.�
�Ron!� Hermione warned and Ron cowed, knowing full well what Hermione thought of anyone who disrespected their teachers.
�Sorry, Mione,� he tried sweetly and Hermione grimaced.
�I hate that nickname,� she reiterated. Ron just shrugged unapologetically and moved his knight.
Harry frowned. �What do you do with him anyway?�
�We get naked and sacrifice small children to the god of leprechauns.�
�Really?� Seamus� head popped up from where he had been dozing. �There�s a god of leprechauns?�
They all stared at him until he crept back to his hiding place on the sofa.
�No, we prepare ingredients and stuff.� Hermione knew that she wasn�t to tell them about her research with Snape as it was a secret.
�You�ll be all right alone with the bat?� Harry asked seriously.
Hermione grinned as she opened the tower door. �What do you think he�s gonna do? Ravish me?�
Ron and Harry both shuddered and Hermione laughed as she closed the portrait behind her.
>>
Severus straightened his dark collar and glared at himself in the mirror. What did people really see when they looked at him?
What did Miss Granger see?
He took inspection of himself as he stared at the glass. His stature was acceptable, being both tall and lean without an excess of either muscle or fat. His shoulders were broad, and more than one woman had said that they were made for clinging to and gouging in passion.
His hair was silky and fine, made greasy by damp dungeons and hours steaming over hot cauldrons. The deepest raven locks framed a face that was angular without being sharp, his best features his piercing eyes of midnight black.
Was he attractive? He cocked his head and regarded himself as he brushed lint off his robes. He was� striking? Perhaps if his scowl were not perpetually plastered to his face he could be seen as fetching. Perhaps if his nose were not so pronounced, he could be seen as handsome.
He stroked the offending nose and narrowed his lips in contemplation.
He heard a lilting laugh behind him and turned to see Hermione standing behind him, dressed in her Muggle jeans and vest top, giggling behind her hand.
�What?� he asked sourly despite knowing exactly what had caused her sudden mirth.
�I never thought I�d see the �greasy git� of the dungeons preening for a date with a student.� Hermione bit her lip and tried to stop her giggles.
�Not a date, just a potions ingredients gathering,� Severus sneered at her, feeling a trifle foolish over his actions. He�d been caught staring at himself like some�Lockhart.
Hermione folded her arms. �Are you trying to convince me or yourself?�
The grin that he gave her was wolfish and made her blush slightly.
There was a faint ringing as the silent alarms activated, letting him know that Miss Granger had finally arrived.
He sighed and opened his arms. �How do I look?�
She smirked. �Tall, dark and dangerous.�
He cocked an eyebrow. �Appropriate, I think.�
�Have fun, dear,� she sassed as she sat back on the sofa and picked up a book off his table. �Try not to frighten the student.�
�I won�t,� he said and opened the door to his office. He paused, one hand on the frame of the open door. �At least, no more than necessary.�
------------------------
Hermione stood in the Potions classroom, waiting for Professor Snape to appear and feeling more than a little disconcerted. She had almost forgotten the odd scene in the lab earlier when she had been so certain that he� That he what? Had wanted her?
Don�t be so ridiculous, she told herself. He was her Professor and she
was just some silly little girl who was having dreams that had nothing to do with anything real.
Still, that didn�t explain why her hands were sweating and she was more than a little uneasy at being here, alone.
Before she could do anything, she heard the steps of her teacher coming from his private office and she pulled herself together.
The door swung open and he stalked through, every inch the master of his domain.
�Miss Granger, it�s unusual to find a student who appreciates punctuality.�
Hermione smiled at the implied compliment. �Thank you, sir. My parents always insisted on being on time.�
�Ah, the lessons a parent teaches a child have lasting impressions beyond even what we are aware.�
Hermione blinked at the weary tone of his voice.
He nodded, seemingly coming back to himself as he picked up a large bag that rested near his desk. �So, Miss Granger, our task this evening is to gather as much research material as possible. We will spend the majority of the evening in the Forbidden Forest.�
Hermione nodded, �Yes, sir. What active ingredients should I look for?�
�Yew, obviously,� he commented dryly, placing his bag over his shoulder and gesturing for her to precede him out of the room. �I would very much like to find dittany, mistletoe and flitterbloom, although it is a trifle out of season for that.�
Hermione nodded, knowing full well that they would be very lucky to find the plant which was so much like Devil�s Snare�a plant that she had ample experience in.
>>>>
The Forbidden forest was as welcoming as its name, and the mists that rose and sank with the wind gave Hermione the creeps.
�Where do we start?� Hermione asked in a whisper.
Professor Snape looked down at her in amusement. �I sincerely doubt that you would wake anything that didn�t want to be wakened, Miss Granger. Whispering is not necessary.�
Hermione blushed lightly and frowned. �Only someone who had never met Grawp could say that.�
�Grawp?� Snape looked askance at her.
�Hagrid�s brother, a proper Giant,� Hermione clarified. �Hagrid brought him back with him a few years ago, when Umbridge was around. He was a supposed �runt� and Hagrid felt sorry for him so he kept him in the forest. I think Hagrid took him back to France to stay with Madam Olympe eventually, but whilst he was in the forest he was scary!�
�I see,� Snape nodded thoughtfully. �I did wonder at Hagrid�s preoccupation with the forest during your fifth year. But I fail to see how you were involved with his brother.�
�Hagrid asked me and Harry to look after him when he was away.�
Snape froze in his steps. �Hagrid wished you to care for a Giant? He brought you to the forest to care for one?�
Hermione nodded. �That was pretty much my reaction. Grawp wasn�t exactly civilised.�
Snape regarded her in horror. �So Hagrid left you alone with the beast?�
�Grawp wasn�t a beast!� she denied hotly. �He saved my life, and� I think he took to me slightly.�
Snape raised an eyebrow at her. �Indeed?�
Hermione blushed. �He called me Hermy.�
His lips twitched as he thought on that piece of information. �So, not only do you solve logic puzzles and ride Hippogriffs, save escaped prisoners and dual with Death Eaters, but you also tame wild Giants. Tell me, Miss Granger, is there anything you don�t do?�
�Play Quidditch,� she said flatly. �At all.�
Professor Snape turned away, his lips twitching. �I�m sure that you could, Miss Granger. After all, it seems that there is very little that is actually beyond you.�
Hermione eyed him carefully. That was the second time tonight that he had uttered something akin to a compliment and it was oddly sweet. Not that that was something that could be applied to Professor Snape very often.
�Probably,� she conceded. �But I am firmly of the opinion that if we were meant to fly, God would have given us airline tickets.�
Snape frowned. �Airline tickets?�
Hermione grinned. �Sorry, Muggle joke.�
�Ah,� he was silent for a moment contemplating something. �Miss Granger, perhaps you could explain something to me that was mentioned in a third year essay?�
The idea of being able to explain something to Professor Snape was anathema to Hermione who had, at one point, thought that he knew everything.
�O-of course,� she stammered.
�One student hypothesised that Pepperup Potion works upon the same principal as kicking a �telly� to make it go. Exactly what is a telly?�
Hermione doubled up, her breathing coming in gasps and gulps of laughter. �She said what?�
He waited for her amusement to abate somewhat before arching a brow. �Another obscure Muggle joke, no doubt?�
�A telly is an abbreviated form of television; which is a box that plays moving pictures linked together to form�um�� Hermione trailed off. Exactly how do you explain movies and soaps? �It�s sort of theatre compressed into a 45 minute slot. When your student said to kick a telly�it�s sort of the same process as getting annoyed with your potion and slapping the beaker�only to find that, somehow, it has had the exact result you were looking for without actually knowing how or why.�
�I see,� he mused. �In that case, I gave her far too many points.�
Hermione hid a grin.
�Here we are.� Professor Snape pointed to the tree that they were standing by and took out a metal sickle and cloth sack from his bag. �Do you wish to climb the tree, or would you rather collect the cuttings?�
Hermione looked up, straight into the boughs of the mistletoe-infested tree. The last time she had any contact with the unfortunate plant had been in the Great Hall at Hogwarts; and she had stalwartly refused to make out with a confused Fred� or possibly George.
�I�ll climb the tree,� she said quickly and placed her foot on the lowest branch.
�Let me,� Snape said chivalrously and placed his hands around her waist.
Hermione stilled as his strong fingers tucked into her tiny waist and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a snitch.
He placed her gently on the branch and Hermione offered a tremulous smile over her shoulder.
�Thank you.�
He simply stepped back into the shadows and waited for her to start cutting, holding the cloth sack open to catch what she dropped.
Hermione set about slicing the fragile plant and dropping it between the boughs to where Professor Snape stood.
Severus waited until she was high in the tree before resuming a conversation. He had been both concerned and impressed at her tales of her exploits with Hagrid�s brother. He dimly recalled Minerva mentioning it at dinner but, in truth, hadn�t paid much attention to the woman.
�So, Miss Granger, what other exploits have you and your co-conspirators gotten into?�
There was a pause in the rustling and her voice came back through the branches.
�You could hardly expect me to own up, now could you, sir?�
He grinned inwardly at that answer and hmmed in response. �Perhaps, although some of it I am already aware of.�
�Then why ask questions to which you already know the answer?� There was a faint giggle after that sentence as if it amused her to say it.
He eyed the tree dubiously and stepped forward to catch a falling section of mistletoe.
�Something amusing, Miss Granger?�
�No, sir,� she replied but he could still hear the humour colouring her voice. �It was a line from a favourite show.�
�Ah, more television,� he said as he caught more leaves. �It seems, Miss Granger, that Muggles substitute this television for books.�
�Some do,� she said carefully. �Some would rather be passive and let entertainment come to them, whereas some enjoy the pleasures of the imagination. I imagine Wizards are the same�some would rather watch Quidditch than brew a potion.�
�True.� Snape nodded. �I assume you are one of those who prefers to expand her imagination.� The brief thought of ways that she could expand her imagination crossed his mind but he forced them back, not wishing to betray himself so soon.
�Yes, sir.�
�Do you have a favourite book, Miss Granger? One that isn�t Hogwarts: A History?� he teased.
�Hey!� Hermione exclaimed, peering down through the branches to her Professor. He had actually sounded amused just then. Was he teasing her?
�Apologies,� he said with a small bow. �So what is your favourite story?�
Hermione bit her lip as she thought about it. �Probably� Darcy�s story.�
Snape frowned. �Who?�
�Fitzwilliam Darcy� it�s sort of a parallel tale to Jane Austen�s Pride and Prejudice.�
�I have read the novel,� Snape admitted. �I rather liked Mr. Darcy.�
�So did I,� Hermione enthused. �But I was always annoyed that we knew very little about him so I looked for other stories and found one that told the book again, but this time from his point of view. It�s my favourite because it shows more than just the proud, dour Mr. Darcy and peers into his character, letting us know what he was like underneath and when he was around people who knew him well.�
�And here I thought Gryffindors were known for accepting things at face value,� he murmured. Louder, he questioned. �What light does this other volume shine on our Mr. Darcy?�
�Well,� Hermione thought for a second. �There is a first hand account of Wickham and Georgiana�s elopement plans. You also see his strained relation with his aunt, his friendship with Bingley and his motivations for his actions. You see Darcy�s growing attachment to Lizzy and how he came to see her as more than an annoyance and saw her as a real person. You see his struggles at trying to talk to her and overcome his natural disposition which was taciturn and unsociable even though he wished he had the skill to converse as easily as his cousin.�
Severus swallowed. She almost could have been talking about him- he had started to see her as more than an annoyance and as a real person� and an imaginary one, come to that. He wished he had the ability as certain others had, of talking confidently to the object of their affections, and he, too, had a taciturn and somewhat anti-social disposition.
�D-did the book make you think better of him?�
�Yeah.� Her tone was wistful.
Severus wondered what to say now. He wanted to gauge her attention and keep her talking to him, but what to say?
�Do you feel you would have fit in the Regency era, Miss Granger?�
�No,� she laughed. �I think I�m far too much the 21st century girl. I wouldn�t be able to stomach staying home and letting some man fight my battles for me� or work for me. I like to make my own way. I have never been the damsel in distress type.�
�No doubt your escapades with Potter have increased your desire to be the one doing the saving. How many times does he owe you his life?�
�A few,� she admitted. �But I think it goes both ways.�
�But he is arguably less speedy in his saving and, perhaps, more cautious. After all, he may be willing to slay a dragon for Miss Weasley but he wouldn�t have the effrontery to set fire to a teacher�s robes.�
A swift gasp of breath made him smile, until it was accompanied by a sharp crack and a rustle of leaves.
In her shock at his knowledge of her pyromaniacal past, Hermione had kneeled on a fragile branch; it snapped under her weight and she fell through the air with a shriek spraying mistletoe all around.
Professor Snape suddenly found himself with an armful of Hogwarts� Head Girl, a shower of mistletoe cascading over him.
She was a pleasant weight in his arms and he held her close to his body, her arms draped over his shoulders. He could feel her soft contours against his sharper angles and inhaled deep of her enticing scent, luxuriating in the feel of her.
Her wide eyes caught his and he didn�t fight the grin that spread over his face.
�Apparently you do �damsel in distress� better than you thought, Miss Granger.�
Hermione just blinked at the sight of the dread Potions master smiling down at her. It transformed his whole face into one that was more handsome than he had right to be.
�Sorry,� she whispered.
He simply shook his head and glanced up. �Look, an angel fell from heaven.�
Hermione followed his gaze to where she had fallen through the branches and was able to see right through to the sky and the twinkling stars on their velvet backdrop glittering like jewels in the night.
�Hardly an angel,� she said quietly, wondering why he hadn�t put her down yet. She reached up and lifted a piece of mistletoe from his hair and dropped it to the floor.
His eyes remained fixed on the tree. �While it may not be Yuletide, Miss Ganger, I do believe that the legend of mistletoe still holds as strong.�
Hermione bit her lip; the connotations of standing under the mistletoe with Snape had not been lost on her but she had brushed it aside.
�Oh.�
He noticed that her breathing had quickened, the slight hitch in her breath noticeable, and he found he couldn�t look away from those hazel eyes.
The moonlight filtering through the trees, the stars gazing down from above, the sounds of the forest and their held breath; it was all perfect.
He slowly wound her hair around his fingers and smiled as they sprung like coiled snakes. He knew he was caught in some strange magic that had nothing to do with Hogwarts curriculum. He sucked in a deep breath when she licked her lips nervously and he lowered his head.
The kiss was soft, a brushing of lips, and almost ghost-like, and yet it shocked them both right down to the core.
It wasn�t the inappropriateness of a student-teacher liaison, neither was it the unwelcome remembrance of exactly who it was that they were kissing. It was the fact that it. Felt. So . Right.
Drawing her hands up his shoulders, Hermione linked her arms around his neck and let her fingers play in his satin-soft hair.
Her mouth was soft and sweet, tasting of innocence and vanilla. She fit into his arms perfectly and her hair cascaded over his arms in a waterfall of cinnamon curls.
He teased his tongue over her bottom lip, begging her to open for him. She obliged willingly and he entered, exploring and tasting to his heart�s content. She returned the kiss heartily, swept away in a passion that she didn�t realise she held inside.
Severus had never felt anything like this. He had been a Death Eater�still was in name�and he had been with women, scores of them, but he had never felt emotions quite like this.
She made him feel vulnerable and yet protective at the same time. He was powerful and powerless, he directed the tide but was swept away and� and�if he didn�t stop soon he was going to take her on the floor of the forest in a bed of fallen leaves.
He reluctantly pulled away and stared down hungrily as her kiss-bruised lips and dazed expression.
�Hermione?� His voice was rough and she shuddered in his embrace.
He carefully let go of her legs and held her until her shaky knees could support her.
�Thank you,� she said hoarsely and tucked an errant curl behind her ear, unsure of what to say, what to do. Her brain refused to fully engage, having been lost on a sea of pleasure, and simple things, like speech or thought, were beyond her for the moment.
Severus knew that as soon as the inestimable Miss Granger started to think, she�d panic and probably turn tail and run from him.
He wouldn�t allow that.
�Unexpected,� he soothed, �but welcome; at least I hope so.�
She swallowed and nodded slowly.
�I realise the inappropriateness of our actions and could blame circumstance or situation� but I won�t insult your intelligence. I wished to kiss you.�
Hermione nodded again, even slower this time, as if not sure why she was doing so.
He tucked his finger under her chin and raised her eyes to meet his own. �I want to kiss you again, but only if you wish it too.�
�I�I��
Aha; the time had come for coherent speech, and her brain attempted to reassert itself.
�I�m not sure.� She cleared her throat and stepped back away from his embrace, wrapping her arms around herself. �I didn�t even think that you liked me.�
His smirk was lopsided. �I think recent actions can attest to the invalidity of that supposition.�
Hermione let out a small burst of laughter. �It�s not everyday that I am kissed into insensibility, sir. Right now my brain is working on the level of �falling bad; stars pretty�.�
Severus chuckled. �All right then, for the insensate of us, that translated as; �I like you� a lot�.�
�Oh.�
He glanced own at his shoes, uncharacteristically shy. �Perhaps I have rushed into things. It was never my intention to frighten you, Miss Granger. In fact, I had promised myself that I would be on my most gentlemanly behaviour. I recollect that even your Mr. Darcy had trouble holding himself back from premature declarations when it came to the object of his affections. He too had struggled in vain and��
He stopped as Hermione shook her hand in front of him, gathering his attention.
�Falling bad; stars pretty,� she said in explanation and he laughed.
�Okay, no complicated sentimental observations this night. I�ll take you back to the castle. Just promise me one thing.�
�Hmm?�
�That you�ll not retreat. Think on what happened and� come see me tomorrow after dinner. Can you do that for me? Give me a chance?�
She stared at his earnest expression, the way he looked hopeful, and yet nervous at the same time, and came to the only conclusion she could.
�I can do that.�
--------------------------------------------------
It was with her head in a whirl that Hermione went to bed that night. She had managed to bypass Harry and Ron, who had stayed up waiting for her, with a simple �tired� and quick scamper past them into her private room. She was too embarrassed to face them after laughingly joking about Snape�s ravishing her; it was far too close for comfort now.
She lay rigid on her bed unable to believe what had happened.
She had kissed a teacher.
No, she had been kissed by a teacher.
She had been kissed by Snape.
She had been kissed by the greasy git of the dungeons.
And she had enjoyed it.
Her trembling hand made its way up to her lips as she remembered the feeling of his against them, his eyes so deeply penetrating.
What had she been thinking? Not only had she been alone with a male teacher after hours in the forbidden forest, but she had also made out with said teacher.
Was she some kind of tart?
Hermione shuddered and pulled her cover up to her chin, almost as if hiding herself away. She wasn�t sure that she even liked Professor Snape. He had been mean and nasty to her for the majority of her Hogwarts career, and suddenly she was kissing him?
Her panic abated slightly as she forced herself to calm down. Getting heated up and panicking would do no one any good, and she was well aware that her rational behaviour went out of the window when she panicked�as exhibited when she was caught in the Devil�s Snare back in her first year. Since that day she had forced herself to remain calm in any given situation. It had served her well and would continue to do so, if she could just calm down.
Hermione snuggled back into her bed, breathing deeply, thinking more logically about this.
She had been having dreams about Professor Snape as a creature called Severus who had been conversing with a simulacrum of herself, calling her Hermione, and acting as if she were his�friend? Love?
Anyway, it appeared that certain portions of those dreams had been true and had come to pass in unexpected ways.
She jolted up as she recalled his comment to her, in the forest, about Miss Morris� essay attempts; it had been exactly the same as what he had mentioned to Hermione in her dream!
If that part of it was true, then maybe all of it was.
What if Professor Snape was really attracted to her and wanted to start a relationship?
Would she want that with him?
She was uncomfortably aware that very few thought of her as anything other than a brain with legs, and, most assuredly, not a girl with feelings and sexuality.
But Professor Snape seemed to realise it, and he showed it with the imaginary version of her.
Her eyes drifted shut as she thought about the kisses that they had shared and the feel of his hands sliding down her spine to rest under her knees, stroking the sensitive skin just there.
Her eyes sprung open and for a wild moment she panicked, wondering where she was.
The d�cor clued her in on the fact that she wasn�t in her dorm room any longer, and the smouldering fire and slouched figure told her that she was in his rooms. Again.
Hermione sat up, piqued that she should be here when all she had wanted was to get some sleep and figure this out. Why was she here again?
She was ready to stand up and demand that he allow her to return to her room when he heaved a sigh. It was heartfelt and almost pained; so unlike her dour professor that she was taken aback and halted in her ire.
�So you�re back, are you?� his voice said.
Severus sat slumped in his chair, his legs open wide and head hung down, almost to his chest. A glass full of brandy was held on one knee, and his whole demeanour was one of melancholy and deep contemplation.
�Severus?� she heard herself say, and cursed inwardly as she remembered that she had no control over this body.
�I thought�. I thought I had frightened you off too and I was alone once again.�
She blinked at the resigned tone to his voice. �I�m still here,� she said unnecessarily.
Severus looked up into the concerned face of his Hermione. He let lose a rueful smirk. �Not for long,� he said sourly. �I�m sure you�ll fade too.�
�But I thought things were going well?� she said. �You were certainly more cheerful this afternoon.�
Hermione froze inside her own body. This Afternoon? Did that mean that there were more encounters that she wasn�t aware of?
�I was� hopeful, and yet tonight as I touched heaven, I was aware that I was flying too close to the sun; my wings have fallen leaving me with bitter waxy residue to light my way to loneliness.�
She stared at him. �Exactly how much have you drunk?�
�Not enough,� he scoffed as he took another swallow.
�Uh huh.� She raised an eyebrow. �So, you wax philosophic when you are inebriated. That�s nice to know, Severus. But I think this pity party would be better served if you clued me in on what you think you�ve done.�
�Done? I scared her away.� Severus shifted as he regarded his phantom.
�I held her in my arms and could not resist her sweet charms.�
�You kissed her?�
�Sweet pilgrims touch.�
Hermione rolled her eyes. �First Icarus and now Shakespeare? Trust me to find a man who�s a literary snob even when he�s smashed.� She sighed. �Did she slap you?�
�No.�
�Did she scream and run away, arms flailing?�
�No.�
�Did she vomit and threaten legal action?�
�No.�
�Then what?�
�She� kissed me back,� he said slowly, as if he couldn�t quite believe it himself.
�Alert the press.� Hermione grinned and perched on the corner of his seat. �And?�
�She agreed to come see me after dinner,� he finished quietly.
�Now, Mr. Snape, perhaps you could answer this, if you aren�t as big a dunderhead as I usually have to teach,� she said in her best professors� tone. �Last year a certain Mr. Malfoy attempted to make amorous advances upon our current head girl. What occurred thereafter?�
Snape smirked. �He came to me to complain that she had broken his nose�twice.�
�That was what she did when accosted by someone she didn�t want. From that viewpoint then, Mr. Snape, what would you conclude as to your own precarious position?�
�That she was not totally against my�advances?�
�Correct; twenty points to Slytherin.� She squealed as he pulled her into his lap.
�Spectres can�t award points!� he growled into her ear, sending delicious shudders down her spine.
�Watch it, Mr. Snape, or I will give detention,� she teased as he ran his nose along her throat, snuffling into her hair.
�Yes, please,� he hissed.
�Behave!� she chastised, even as she tilted her head back for better access. His lips trailed a path down her nape and along her collarbone, shooting sparks of awareness down her body.
Inside her own body Hermione was agape at this flirtatious version of her strait-laced teacher. It was almost as if he was a different person, one that she found intriguing.
�Yes, Miss,� he breathed into the hollow of her throat. �Please, Miss, I want some more.�
�Okay!� Hermione pushed him away in laughter. �No more brandy for you. Literary quotes are well and good in their own time but not now. Understood?� She immediately regretted losing the warmth of his touch but it was worth it to see Severus Snape pout like a scolded little boy. That was an image that would stay with her in Potions class.
�Fine,� he groused.
�Now, tell me what happened with Miss Granger.�
He settled back, looking deliciously rumpled. �She was gathering mistletoe and knelt on a fragile branch. She fell and I caught her. Moonlight, stars, armful of luscious teen; I reacted. Then she was so shaken that I escorted her back to the castle, but not before eliciting a request for her company tomorrow,� he glanced up at the clock, �or today, rather, after dinner. She agreed to give me a chance to explain.�
�See, that�s good.�
�Yes. I had hoped to have proceedings develop a trifle more sedately than they did.� He frowned. �But things seemed right at the time.�
�Well, maybe it�s for the best that she knows now what your intentions are�� she trailed off. �What are your intentions?�
�Excuse me?�
�Well, you originally intended just conversation with a brilliant mind. We progressed to actual debates and personal talks. We became friends�what exactly is it that you want from Miss Granger?�
Snape thought about that.
�I still crave intellectual stimulation, but I feel that Miss Granger has more to offer than that.�
�Carte blanche?� Hermione�s voice was stern.
�No!� He shook his head vehemently. �I respect Miss Granger far too much to offer her the position of my mistress. No, I � I would like the opportunity to get to know her as a person.�
�Rather than a wraith?�
�My wraith,� he countered with a swift, passionate kiss.
�So dates, kisses, possibly more if she is amenable? Only the most honourable of intentions, Mr. Snape?�
�Hmm.� He seemed to have lost interest in conversation. �Did I ever tell you of my professor fantasy?�
With a short squeal Hermione was flung against his chest and�
�knocked herself out of bed.
Dammit! Just when things were getting more interesting.
Hermione clambered back into bed, rubbing her sore arm.
That hurt� and she was glad to be knocked out of that dream. Really she was.
Hermione pulled her covers up around her throat and edged back until she was resting against the headboard.
That was freaky. Really freaky.
Hermione had always been brought up to be a sensible girl and had had to have a complete turnabout when it was proven to her that magic existed. Since she had become friends with Harry Potter, she had seen things that she had never imagined and, slowly, she was becoming blas� about the paranormal happenings in her life which once would have left her reeling.
This appeared to be another one of them. As she lay there in bed she was adjusting to the reality that she was dreaming about her teacher and the fact that he seemed to be plotting to seduce her.
In hindsight, it wasn�t all that odd an occurrence. After all, the magical waves around Hogwarts allowed for ghosts and spectres to live there�or rather, exist there�quite happily. So, why shouldn�t dreams and actual events also drift along those magical waves?
It was perfectly logical.
Yes and Santa Claus went motor skiing with the Tooth Fairy.
Hermione shivered. Was Professor Snape trying to seduce her? It certainly sounded that way to her.
She had so many questions about this and no one to turn to; it was very frustrating to the self-proclaimed know-it-all not to have all of the answers.
But there was one question that no one save herself could answer; did she mind that he was trying to seduce her?
Giving up sleep as a bad idea, Hermione pushed herself up and leaned back thoughtfully.
If anyone had asked her last month what she thought of him she would have said that he was a brilliant Potions master and a man worthy of respect for the roles that he played in life. Of course, she would also have said that he was a greasy git with as much social grace as an elephant in a tutu and as much appeal as a diseased warthog. He was mean, arrogant, selfish, egotistical, sharp and prejudiced and she�d be glad when she never had to talk to him again.
That was last month.
That was before she had heard him speak of literature and poetry, before she had conversed about potion ingredients and Mr. Darcy; it was before she had seen him smile, heard him laugh� kissed him.
Now, he was a genius of a Potions master and well worthy of deepest regard and respect. He wasn�t greasy, but silky. He could charm the birds from the sky if he so chose and had much more appeal than she could actually handle. He was only mean to those who were foolish, and he had been the very essence of generosity in all his dealings with her. He may be arrogant and egotistical, but with good cause, for he was superior and who would take care of him if not himself? He didn�t seem prejudiced now and he was totally, completely, irrevocably and without contention a man.
He was also one hell of a kisser.
Hermione blushed and bit her lip with a smug grin. He had wanted to kiss her.
The very idea of being on the receiving end of the affections of a man like that, a man who demanded respect and admiration� it was a heady thing for an eighteen-year-old virgin to be desired like that.
He had made a complete about-face in her thoughts in the past few days- but did she hate him, as many of her fellow students did?
No, no she didn�t hate him; had never hated him, in fact. She always strived to respect the man, and had urged her friends to do so in word, if not in thought or actuality.
That was all very well, but what was she going to do now that he had professed an interest in her? Did she want a relationship with him?
Hermione sighed as the questions swirled around her head, the sheer number of them driving her crazy, going in circles and giving her a headache. She frowned as she realised that she asked as many questions of herself as she did in class. Honestly, no wonder her teachers complained if she was this annoying.
She smiled a little at that and snuggled back down into her covers. She had plenty of time to think about this. After all, she didn�t have to meet him until after dinner.
Thank goodness she didn�t have Potions tomorrow.
-
Damn, why couldn�t he have had seventh year Potions today? Severus moaned as he sipped his scalding morning coffee, relishing the bitter taste.
He had passed a very indifferent night of tossing, turning and chatting to his �ethereal, not real but not imaginary enough� girlfriend about his machinations for her living counterpart. No wonder he woke up feeling as if he had a bad hangover: his life was beginning to sound like a bad Weasley joke.
Or a Shakespearean tragedy.
And to top it all off, he didn�t even have her in his class today to assuage himself of his fears.
�Professor?� Severus looked up�and up into the beaming face of Hagrid.
Hagrid was one of the few creatures in Hogwarts that he actually had time for. Being groundskeeper meant that, whilst on his rounds, the half-giant had come across his prone body on more than one occasion and had hauled him back to the castle to be fed, bathed and pieced back together. That granted him some leeway in Severus� books� not enough to forgive him for speaking to him before he had his morning coffee, however.
�What?� He managed to stop himself from snarling, but only just.
�I�s wantin� to have words with yer, about a little matter.� Hagrid patted his pocket gently and gave Snape a significant look.
Severus blinked. �What?�
�Yeh know, a little matter.�
The knowing look didn�t help any, and Severus wondered if Hagrid had been partaking of Madam Rosmerta�s mead instead of his usual tankard of milky tea and sugar. He shuddered at the thought.
Hagrid rolled his eyes and leaned forward hoping, unsuccessfully, to be surreptitious.
�I mean tha� I have the little matter that you was requestin�.� He patted his shirt pocket again and Severus heard a faint noise from within.
The cloudy haze dissipated and he suddenly knew what Hagrid was speaking about.
�Oh, good.� He nodded. �Perhaps we could discuss this in my study��
�Yep!�
��after breakfast,� Severus finished and turned back to his coffee, studiously ignoring the curious glances of his fellow members of staff.
Sometimes it was as if they didn�t have enough going on in their own lives, so they had to poke their noses into his as well.
He gave them a caffeine-deprived glare and settled back in his chair, his eyes glancing over the Gryffindor table to where a very bleary eyed Hermione Granger stumbled in, sinking into her chair between the witless wonder and his ginger sidekick.
Without saying a word, Potter pushed a cup of something hot towards her and Weasley held out a milk jug. She accepted both and sighed as the first sip crossed her lips.
Severus smiled inwardly. Whilst the students were not permitted coffee, he knew that her morning tea was as much a craving as his first cup of the day was.
Something else that they had in common.
�Professor?�
�Yes, yes.� He tore his gaze away from his favourite addiction and stood up in a flurry of black cloth, indicating that Hagrid follow him out.
Severus rarely let anyone in his room, preferring to keep his privacy just that. His obvious exceptions to that were Dumbledore and his imaginary Hermione. Minerva had, once, been in his room�but only because he had been unconscious at the time.
Hagrid was permitted into his private study, but no further and the only reason that he was let this far was because he had something that Severus did not wish for the students� nor the staff to see him with.
Hagrid�s head almost touched the ceiling and, for once, Severus felt almost petite.
�Well?� he asked not unkindly as the half-giant surveyed his room with a glint in his eye.
�Oh, this is a right nice place, Snape. I always expected yeh to have dark, dank rooms,� he paused, �shouldn� have said that.�
Despite himself Severus felt his lips twitch and motioned for him to continue.
�Well, I was on the lookou� for what yeh asked for an� I came across this little fella in Knockturn Alley.�
�What were you doing there?� Severus asked suspiciously.
�Oh, them nasty little grubs have been in the school cabbages again,� Hagrid shook his head. �Between you and me, I think the little blighters have developed a taste for Flesh-Eating Slug repellent.�
Severus had his first class of the day arriving in less than half an hour and he really wasn�t awake enough yet to converse about legumes.
�Hagrid,� he began.
�Oh yeah!� Hagrid dipped his hands inside his pockets and pulled out the smallest piece of black fluff that Severus had ever seen. It almost disappeared within the huge hands of the half-giant as he held it out to Severus.
��Ere yeh take him.�
Severus gingerly accepted the puff of fluff and it suddenly awakened, unfurling from its foetal position and fixing him with the most peculiar pair of doe eyes that he had ever seen.
�Lavender eyes?� he murmured as the kitten eyed him. �Unusual.�
�Aye.� Hagrid nodded. �But he�s a clever little chappie, make no mistake abou� that.�
�Good.� Severus peered down at the kitten, checking him over to ensure that he wasn�t harmed in any way. The kitten gave him back stare for stare and yawned heartily, little teeth startling white against its black fur.
�If it�s a name yer be wantin�, Professor, I migh� suggest��
�I think I can name my own familiar,� Severus drawled. �Isn�t that right, Nicodemus?�
He blinked. The name had just rolled right off his tongue as though it had always been there, just waiting for his new pet.
�Nicodemus?� Hagrid looked dubiously at the tiny animal and then back at Severus. �All righ�.�
Hagrid left soon after and Severus was left to conjure a basket for his new pet and leave him to amuse himself with balls of string, Severus� socks and the latest copy of Charms weekly, while he went to teach dunderheads how not to explode cauldrons.
All in all, it wasn�t really a fair trade.
It always seems to be that when you want time to speed up, it slows down� and when you wish for time to crawl, it flies. It shows the utter flexibility of time, and the total perverseness of the universe, in how, for Severus, the day seemed to last a million years, whilst for Hermione� well, she felt like she�d blinked and missed it.
The evening meal was choked down with about as much enthusiasm as dead flies, and neither Severus nor Hermione could have described what it actually was they ate.
As the hoards of well-fed school children filed out of the hall, it was with trembling knees that Hermione made her way down to the lower echelons of the school. Her feet seemed to drag the closer that she got to the dungeons, and by the time she reached the door to the Potions classroom she had almost talked herself out of going there.
She hadn�t decided what she was going to do, or what she was going to say, and that, more than anything, rankled her. After all, she was the Know-It-All; no matter how she despised the nickname, she felt duty-bound to uphold it.
She raised her fist and knocked timidly, hoping against hope that he wasn�t in, but knowing that she had seen him leave the hall moments before she had managed to drag herself away from the table.
�Enter.� The rich timbre of his voice moved her to open the door and step inside, closing the solid wood behind her.
--------
Chapter 13. Reality bites
The ink stand looked better on the left, but if he moved it again it would send him into raving lunacy.
What if she didn�t show up?
He straightened the papers on his desk again and smoothed the top sheet, wincing at the crease that appeared due to his efforts.
What would he say, even if she did show?
The feathered quill was nudged a millimetre to the right and aligned closer to the headed paper.
Would she be disgusted and wish to tell him of her visit to the Headmaster? Why hadn�t he heard from Albus?
There, his desk looked�exactly the same as it did usually.
What had he been thinking? Or had he not been thinking at all?
Of course, he hadn�t anticipated how essential it would be for the papers to be dead centre� It was like the sword of Damocles hovering above his head �nor for the curled parchment to be precisely twelve centimetres away from the edge of the desk.
Was she ever going to show? It was thirty seconds to.
Funny how the small things become the most crucial when it came to organization.
Twenty seconds to.
Would the small picture frame look better askew? Or perhaps he should banish it completely.
Ten seconds.
Did it make him appear more approachable to have personal items on the desk?
Maybe he should just give up and go mad now, it would certainly save time.
Maybe she would�
Two thumps against the door.
Oh, merciful Merlin. She�s here!
�Enter.�
*
The door slowly creaked open and Hermione�s head appeared, quickly followed by the rest of her body as she eased in.
�Hello, Professor,� she said quietly.
�Miss Granger.� He nodded and gestured for her to come closer.
She shut the door behind her and made her way to the centre of the room, looking like she wanted nothing better than to sink beneath the cold stone floor.
�Thank you for coming.�
She managed a small smile but didn�t look up.
�The reason that I called you here was to discuss the events of yesterday evening.� He paused. �Have you any thoughts on the matter?�
She looked up then. �Like what, sir?�
�Anything,� he began almost desperately, not entirely sure himself what it was that he wanted her to say. �For the first time, Miss Granger, I give you full leave to utter anything that comes into your head. Beware, this is a one time offer.�
The first thing that came into her head?
�We didn�t manage to get any dittany or flitterbloom.�
They stared at each other for a long moment, before both mouths quirked and Hermione burst into laughter.
�Sorry,� she giggled as the nervous tension receded.
�I probably asked for that,� he admitted ruefully.
She nodded and moved closer. �Honestly, Professor, I�m not sure what to say. I haven�t told anyone else about it, if that is what you were concerned about.�
�I wasn�t, but I thank you, Miss Granger.� And that was the truth; he hadn�t actually worried that she would tell others. The very notion that he trusted her enough to put not only his livelihood, but his life, in her hands was startling.
�W-why did you do it?� she asked, with characteristic bravery.
�Kiss you?� He felt perversely pleased when she blushed. �I wanted to, at the time. It seemed right.�
�Forbidden Forest, romantic moonlight?� She parroted his words without realising it.
He half- grinned. �Something like that. Don�t teen-aged girls enjoy that?�
His tone was slightly mocking, but whether he was mocking himself or her, she wasn�t sure.
Hermione looked at him seriously. �I may be a teen-aged girl, sir, but I am, at heart, a pragmatist. What you were offering may be some girl�s idea of a dream date.�
�But not yours?� He already knew the answer to that. �No, I know you.�
�Unlike my friends, I don�t relish the idea of chasing the forbidden,� she countered. �I enjoy a challenge, but I�m hardly one to break the rules, sir.�
�So says the girl who hexed a Professor in her third year; aided and abetted a criminal in escape of the law; babysat an illegal- immigrant Giant and brewed a most difficult potion in a girl�s bathroom.�
She had the decency to flush and look away.
�Did you not enjoy doing those things, Miss Granger?� His voice was silky smooth. �Did you not relish the fact that you were brewing that potion right under my nose? With my ingredients?�
�I�� she began only to trail off when he smirked.
�See, Miss Granger; you may say that you don�t enjoy chasing the forbidden, but I know you.�
He seemed so sure of himself, so sure of her, that she was almost insulted.
�What exactly is it that you want?� she snapped, her embarrassment making her voice harsher than usual.
Snape looked taken aback by the violence of her expression and she noted it with vicious pleasure. It was about time she had the upper hand.
�Oh, yes, I have a temper. I have mood swings and I make mistakes. You are just like everyone else, you see only what you want to see,� she said in frustration. �You said that you know me, well you don�t.�
�I know more about you than you think, Miss Granger,� he said.
�You may know about me but you don�t know me.� She thought about the simulacrum that she had observed and how the spectre never lost her temper, or acted stupidly. He seemed to have taken all of her best traits and fashioned a perfect version of her for his fantasy. Well, she wasn�t like that. �I�m not some perfect plastic Barbie-doll that you can mould for your own amusement.�
�I have no idea what a Barbie doll is, Miss Granger, and I�m not sure what it is that you are getting at.� He was beginning to wonder if this had been a wise move after all.
�Okay, you may know my favourite colour, but do you know what makes me angry? You may know the name of every single teacher I have ever had, but what do I value in a friend? Facts are well and good, sir, but they only scratch the surface.�
�As Potions Master I am well aware that knowledge is not everything.� He drew himself up to his greatest height. �But it needs to start somewhere. It is impossible to master, say Polyjuice, without a thorough knowledge of a calming draught. My only desire, Miss Granger, was to get to know you beyond the basics.�
Hermione looked down. How is it that she had managed to turn a conversation about a kiss into a full blown academic debate? Was she so unromantic and practical that even declarations of affection were scrutinised in minute detail, looking for clauses?
She had no idea she was so cynical.
Honestly, she and Snape were made for each other. The thought shocked her and she looked up into his candid gaze.
Did she want him to get to know her?
Yes.
�I think� I�d like that,� she said softly, and almost chuckled at his shocked expression. �Did you not want me to?�
He gave her a peculiar glare. �I thought that you were against the idea; after all, you did not wish me to confuse you with a barbette doll.�
�Barbie doll,� she corrected, �and I have changed my mind. I�m allowed to do that. It clearly states in the women�s code that mind-changing is not just a prerogative but a prerequisite, especially if it confuses men.�
�Has anyone ever told you that you are quite perverse and contrary?� He sounded almost pleased by the idea, and she grinned.
�All the time, sir.�
***
Severus� chambers were still the sanctuary that they had always been. He sat facing the fire, a book in one hand and a glass of firewhisky in the other, pretending to read as he mused on the conundrum that was Miss Granger.
He had never really thought of her losing her temper or snapping like that, even though he had seen her exasperation with Weasley and Longbottom on more than one occasion.
When she had said that he didn�t really know her, she had been correct.
He had a stylised and idealistic view of her that was totally bereft of reality and he was almost ashamed for letting the illusion carry on as it had.
No woman was as perfect as his fantasy had been� that�s why it was called a fantasy.
In truth Miss Granger was flesh and blood, she made mistakes and lost her temper� and when she did, her eyes lit up and sparkled with a fire that his fantasy could only dream of. Her face had flushed with colour, and he could almost feel the hot blood pumping below the soft surface of her skin. He ached to taste the vein that throbbed in the hollow of her neck.
He grinned ruefully; maybe there was more to the rumours of him being a vampire than he had previously suspected.
�I wouldn�t complain about that,� Hermione said as she materialised in front of him. �Miss Granger, I�m sure, wouldn�t mind you having a nibble.�
�Perhaps.� He leaned back, regarding her thoughtfully. �But that is indeed a long way off, Hermione.�
She grinned and stood by the fire, letting the flames dance silhouettes on her ghostly features. �Why, Severus, didn�t you make headway with her today?�
�Some,� he admitted, and gestured for her to come to him. She settled on his lap, her gaze somehow unsettling him as never before.
�And?� she prompted.
�And I uncovered that Miss Granger is more like all other women than I ever imagined.�
�How so?� She raised an eyebrow at him.
�Complex, contradictory and completely confounding.�
Hermione stared at him for a moment before bursting into light-hearted giggles. �Well, you said she�d keep you interested.�
�True,� he agreed. �Although something tells me that I may have cause to regret that.�
Hermione snuggled down into his lap and he gave up any pretence of reading, placing the glass and book down. He pulled her in closer and inhaled deeply, his memory supplying the scent of innocence and vanilla that had permeated Miss Granger�s hair.
�So what did you agree upon?� Hermione asked drowsily.
�Getting to know her,� he said, stroking her back. �She�s coming tonight to start dissecting the ingredients for the potion.�
�The Yew potion?�
�The same.� Snape frowned. �Of course, now that I have the opportunity I have no idea what to say to the girl.�
�First up, don�t call her a girl,� Hermione advised in a bossy tone that he remembered Miss Granger using towards Potter and Weasley when admonishing them to do their homework. �No eighteen-year-old likes to be told that she is a �girl�. Lady, maybe; woman, yes. But girl? No.�
Snape nodded his head in mock severity. �Understood.�
Hermione grinned. �Also don�t even pretend that she is understandable or that you know her already.�
Snape winced, already well aware that maintaining full knowledge of Miss Granger was only likely to send her spiralling into a foul temper tantrum.
�Why?� he asked curiously. �I would have thought that most woman like to be understood.�
�And that,� she replied smugly, �is why you don�t have a girlfriend. No woman wants to be understood. Telling a woman that you understand her basically tells her that she is simple. Women pride themselves on being complex creatures with so many unfathomable layers that no man could ever truly do justice to their sheer intricacy.�
�In other words, women are bloody difficult,� he summed up succinctly.
�Exactly.� Hermione grinned. �Remember that and you�ll get along fine. What time is she coming?�
�Half past seven.� He glanced up at the clock on his wall, proclaiming himself to be �at ease�. �She�ll be on her way now.�
He had begun to smile and let his hand wander south eliciting a giggle from Hermione, when the hand on the clock swung suddenly.
His attention caught, he looked directly to where it pointed to �danger� mere seconds before his left arm began to throb. Bracing himself Snape was able to bite back the yell of pain as his Dark Mark flared to life, burning like molten lava through his veins.
�Severus?� Hermione asked worriedly, her body somehow seeming less corporeal that before.
�The Dark Lord,� he gasped, his eyes meeting hers. �I�m being summoned.�
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