Harry left to return a book at eight o’clock. Several Gryffindors had besieged him all day long after it had slipped Ron that Harry had already Apparated. Hermione wondered what it would be like to do it all by herself. She had done it twice with Severus when he had taken her to Malham Cove on Christmas Day, making her re-arrange her imaginary least-five of travelling: Apparating was now equal-ranking with broomsticks. Though she would have to learn it. She had some influence on him, but he refused to teach her how to fly like he did before she passed her Apparition Exam. Glad that she was already seventeen, she would only need to succeed in the lessons, rather than Harry who had to wait until summer to actually take the exam. But she of course knew that Dumbledore wouldn’t survive long enough for Harry’s exam to take place at all and that troubled her much. Harry – of all – to not – well, not that she doubted his abilities –
Dumbledore. That old bag. In a week, she hadn’t gotten Severus to tell her what had been in that casket. He hadn’t even allowed her to read the letter. What kind of present would be private enough to share the knowledge of its existence with one’s girlfriend, but no further details? And Burbage knew something. That much Hermione was certain of, by the looks the woman gave her any time their eyes met.
Hermione sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, alone, her head leaning far from vividly on her arm. The rest was enjoying themselves at the sofas, having hung on Harry’s lips as he had told them what Side-Along-Apparition felt like, about a hundred times. Now he was gone and Lavender was back in Ron’s lap. Bitch, Hermione thought, giving her an uncaught bored glare.
“Are you looking forward to the lessons as well?”, Parvati Patil had sat down at Hermione’s corner table, her hands on the tabletop.
“Not too necessarily.”, Hermione yawned.
“The way Harry describes it, Apparating must feel rather yucky.”
“Have you ever seen raw Runespoor eggs?”
“Yeah. There is a glass of them in the Potions classroom. Disgusting things.”
“And now imagine eating up that whole glass in one go.”
“Ugh! Never!”
“Well, that’s what it feels like.”
“Wait – have you Apparated already?”, Parvati’s eyes widened.
“Side-Along.”
“You too? With whom?”
“A friend.”, Hermione still studied the ugliness of Ron’s and Lavender’s snogging – smiling inside, because Severus’ kisses felt so wonderful to her that she knew there was no way kissing him could look that horrible.
“Oh! Exciting! I wish I had the chance to.”
“Believe me. You don’t.”, Hermione sighed.
“Well, if it’s really like you two say, I might re-consider. Who’s that friend of yours?”, Parvati giggled. “I mean, I don’t want to sound rude – but you’re – ”
“Muggle-Born. Yes, even people like me do have grown up magical friends.”
“Goodness, sorry! If your hair’d be black and utterly greasy, by that look you just gave me, you could be Snape!”
“Honestly, if I cared about your unintentional insult, I might just become a little like him and put you in detention.”
“Sorry – ”
“Never mind.”, she decided to project all the loathing she felt in her own eyes onto Lavender, because if she would have to chose, she still liked Parvati a tad better. “And how come everyone immediately associates him with greasy hair. It’s not greasy all the time. Just because he hates the way it stands when it’s freshly washed – ”
“What? Er – by the way, have you seen Snape leaving the castle after lunch?”, Hermione’s head rushed to her.
“Huh?”
“Really not? Well, everyone who did, is talking about it, haven’t you heard them?”
“No? What’s with him?”
“He wore a shining purple scarf.”, the other girl giggled again.
“And?”
“Yeah. That wouldn’t be too odd, if it wasn’t all-black Snape, was it? And it wouldn’t be either if that scarf hadn’t white shiny stars on it.”, she giggled on.
“And?”, Hermione kept her bored expression.
“And?”, a hand waving in front of her face. “Hermione!”, Parvati hissed. “Snape! Wearing a scarf with stars!”, the giggling was back.
“So what?”
“So what?”, Parvati murmured.
“Honestly Parvati, I don’t care what Snape wears.”
That was actually the truth. She didn’t care what Severus wore as she had come to the conclusion that every piece of clothing she had seen him wearing, suited him – and if it was – wearing nothing. Careful not to blush, she carried on.
“As long as he doesn’t start jumping through the Great Hall naked, I couldn’t care less what he wears.”
“Hey, Hermione!”, a tall boy had approached her from behind, but she ignored him as if she had been prepared to hear his voice any second.
“Uh – I think, I’m going now.”, Parvati whispered grinning, a second later staring at Hermione with shock – her left hand was trapped under Hermione’s fallen right one.
“Not so fast.”, she hissed, eyes almost empty, seeing Parvati’s widening with confusion.
“But – aren’t you – isn’t he your – ”
“Cormac!”, Hermione turned her head up to him with a sneer. “How was your detention with Snape?”
“Horrible.”, he smirked.
“Well then, why don’t you sit down and tell Parvati here all the details? She’s burning with enthusiasm about Snape! She’s trying to get to know – his private side!”, Hermione said in such a volume, several people turned their heads towards them. “So much one would think she’s in love with him!”
“Hermione! I’m not!”, strangely it wasn’t even hard to catch Parvati’s blush.
“You know what they say about people who scream out denial?”, Hermione hissed and Parvati shook her head. “They. Lie.”, she stood up and went to the portrait hole just when it opened again, revealing Ginny, eyes red and dried tears on her cheeks.
“Where are you heading?”
“Library.”
“The library is closed already. You know that.”, Ginny frowned.
“Well, not for me. I’m a Prefect.”, Hermione stopped in place though when she spotted a black figure freezing a floor below.
“Yes. Snape. I wonder what business he has to do up here.”, murmured Ginny, interpreting her move.
“McLaggen just came back from detention with him. I guess, he escorted him personally due to the security measures.”
“Oh.”
“Will you enter now or what?”, the Fat Lady sang around her canvas.
“Okay, okay!”, Ginny barked.
“If I see Dean, I’ll give him a kiss from you and a smack in the face.”, Hermione said coldly. “Goodnight.”
“Thanks.”, Ginny moaned. “G’night.”
Hermione heard the portrait fall shut behind. Not without a checking glance over her shoulder, she went downstairs, catching up with him, just like she had hoped and wanted. In the meantime he had leant onto the handrail of a fixed landing and looked down at the distant main staircase, almost invisible in the dark of the night, as strangely, the torches had stopped burning when the Fat Lady had shut the hole. She came to halt to his left and leaned onto the banister as well.
“Being a Prefect does not excuse stealing yourself out at night, Miss Granger.”, he whispered as cold as she had said her last sentence to Ginny.
“Oh – I didn’t know that, Sir.”, she quietly sang, affecting surprise. “I assume I will get detention for it? What a shame.”, he slowly started to laugh, reached out and pulled her close, Hermione leaning against him, grinning – some portraits eyed them with interest.
“Do you have the slightest idea, what I actually feel for you?”, he whispered, smiling, and nestled his cheek on her head with his eyes closed.
“Enough to make Parvati curious.”
“Pardon?”
“We need to be careful. She might sneak after you again just to find out where you got that scarf from.”
“That won’t be good; I don’t want to make it my habit to alter her memory on a daily basis.”, Hermione laughed.
“Don’t worry, for the moment. Probably she will be cautious. Or otherwise people will actually believe that she’s got a crush on you. And I saddled her with McLaggen.”
“What?”, he now hissed, looking down on her hair.
“Don’t ask.”, Hermione dropped her head with an embarrassed grin, feeling her chin being lifted gently. “Hmm?”
They gazed into each others’ eyes for a long while, her hands still on the banister, but eventually shared some soft kisses. Footsteps from below made them stop though. Stomping ferociously, Dean Thomas climbed the stairs, not paying attention to his surrounding. That made it easier for them to disappear.
Staircases and walls rushing by, they quietly landed in front of old wooden doors with glass windows. No lights were on. A quiet clicking and the doorknob turned, clicking again when they were in. The same happened at the second door. Hermione found herself; invisible until that point; lifted onto a table in the Restricted Section.
“Severus!”, she giggled when he embraced her, standing between her spread legs. “What are we doing here?”
“Didn’t you say, you wanted to go to the library?”, he sneered.
“Idiot!”, Hermione laughed quietly when her hair was wiped away and tender lips started to kiss her neck. “You will get us both expelled!”
~~#~~
A little later than her classmates, she entered Transfiguration class, arms wrapped around her body that was almost fully covered by her black uniform cloak. Only her bushy brown hair jumped on top and she seemed far absent with her thoughts. Her bag hung carelessly on her shoulder and she herself was obviously – taller and louder. Everyone looked after her, or more, her feet, as she swaggered over to her seat next to Harry, who again, was the barrier between her and Ron. Dropping her bag and still pulling her cloak tight, she tried to ignore the stares.
“Er – morning?”, Harry whispered.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Oh – sorry – ”, Hermione startled up. “Good morning, Harry. Where’s McGonagall?”
“Late?”
“How funny.”, she huffed.
“I didn’t laugh,”, Harry frowned at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You’re the one who’d need a shave.”
“I can’t. That’ll cut those horrible pimples. Ron’s mum’s made far too much sweet stuff over Christ- Hermione? What’re you – ”, she had bent down and withdrawn a flask from her bag, which she quickly dropped it in his lap. “What’s this!”, he hissed.
“Look at my face and tell me.”, Hermione pouted quietly.
“Wait – didn’t you – you always wore makeup, didn’t you?”
“Not anymore, as you obviously saw.”
“Is that stuff – second. That’s not Fred and George’s wonder crap, is it? I thought you – ”
“Actually,”, she sang under her breath, “They stole it. I borrowed it back.”
“Meaning?”
“I figured out their source.”
“And I guess, you won’t tell me the source.”
“Not at all.”
“It’s legal?”
“As it comes directly from the original creator, yes, it is legal. The stuff they reproduced, however, isn’t.”
“And I just pour it over?”
“Of course not!”, Hermione moaned. “You dab bits of it on the pimples with a cotton pad before you go to sleep. And for Heaven’s sake, don’t forget to wash your face thoroughly before.”
“I’m not stupid, Hermione. Yet, that doesn’t make me the owner of cotton pads.”
“Then take a handkerchief – “, she murmured, “Or toilet paper – or ask Burbage for a tampon! God! Be creative, Harry! It’s not so difficult!”
“Well, thanks, then.”, he snorted back and slipped it into his own school bag when McGonagall stepped into the classroom.
“Good morning, class.”, the elderly woman greeted, a pile of green paper folders on her arms dancing in the rhythm of her black hair bun’s bouncing and looking a little pale with dark rings under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept.
“Good morning, Professor.”, the class replied, as usual, but with slightly sceptic looks at the soft green mystery.
“I unfortunately have to start today’s lesson with bad news.”, she turned around in front of her desk, facing the students. “As you all might have noticed, Madam Sprout was not on top of her health lately. Tonight however, she has reached the climax of her sickness, so far. Before she fainted on the stretcher the delegation of St Mungo’s Hospital took her away on, she could ask me to tell Professor Snape to undertake her lessons.”
A bewildered murmur went through the class. People were exchanging looks as though they were mentally writing their last will for each other.
“I am not done yet!”, abrupt silence fell, and she looked much more awake now. “Additionally, she has told me where to find the tests and essays handed in before the holidays, which she felt incapable of correcting of. So if there is any among you who would like to bring those – ”, she lifted the folders a hand broad, “To Professor Snape; who unfortunately has not been present last night; and tell him what happened? Anyone?”, the looks of the students were stuck between disgust and fear. “Anyone who will resist to alter their own work before delivering the papers? What about you, Miss Granger?”
“Professor?”, the girl gargled.
“I believe I can trust you, of all your classmates?”
“Um – yes, Madam.”
She hesitantly stood up, still clutching her cloak, and took the folders, holding them to her chest instantly as if they were the most precious papers on earth, but she wouldn’t let go of the cloak either. Turning with spinning hair, she hasted away.
“Miss Granger – are those – what on earth are those shoes you are wearing?”, but Hermione was gone.
Trying not to twist her ankles, she walked through the corridors. On the next windowsill she put down the folders, not believing what she was actually doing. Originally, she had thought of it rather being for Ron’s senses at lunch, but since the rumour of going out with McLaggen had worked and the circumstances downright begged for it –
She picked her wand from her cloak’s pocket, took off her cloak and pointed the wand at it. Diminuendo Maxima, she thought, already feeling the cold of the corridor. The cloak shrunk to the size of a pearl and she carefully stuck it into her décolleté that looked rather dubious today. Putting the wand behind her ear, she took the folders on her left arm and hurried on. Around the corner, she met someone who was an amazing chance if one was up to spreading rumours, but not willing to be tortured beforehand.
“Good Morning, Sir Nicholas!”, she sung.
“Good Morning – Miss – Granger?”, the ghost stared after her as she clacked into the next corridor.
The classroom door flew open, staying this way. Thick black curtains were still darkening the room and the class sighed when a few flicks of his hand lit the candles floating above them. As usually, everyone jumped up when he rushed through between the middle rows, cloak and hair bagging.
Walking spaciously around his desk, he gave the outside wall another wave of his left hand and every second window jumped open to bring some fresh air into the classroom. The students next to the windows startled almost onto the laps of their neighbours.
A massive turn later, he crossed his fingers in front of his stomach and took the register by only looking across their heads, his dark expression spread all over his face. When he saw that the class was complete, he let out a sigh, not without taking another short glance at Luna’s new woollen cap, changing from one bright colour to another, sparkling.
“Will you take that off, Miss Lovegood?”, he snapped. “I am glad that you wear your uniform; still, this is not a masquerade.”
“Alright, Sir.”, she smiled and dropped the cap into her bag, the sparkling shining out however, blinking like a jar full of rainbow coloured fireflies.
“Sit down,”, the class did as said. “And get out your books. For the first part of the lesson you will be reading and studying what you will practice during the second part. So read thoroughly. I don’t want any injuries in my class. The page is – ”
A flash of red light and something feathery came rushing through the open window nearest to his desk. All heads shot around at the owl which rumbled to the floor and came to lie lifelessly, a roll of parchment bound to its leg. Severus stormed to the window and bent out, finding the source of the spell at an instant.
“O’NELLY!”, the entire class jerked, most of them having never heard him yell like that before. “Who permitted you to train Stunning Spells on flying owls when you’re supposed to sit in History! Twenty points off, you foolish moron!”, with a snort, he turned to the owl on the floor. “Incredible.”, he carefully picked up the animal and laid it down on his desk, taking the parchment for a check of the recipient, then dropped it and addressed his class, as calm as ever. “Page number five hundred and twenty-two. The clock is ticking.”
Hastily pages were flipped and the students started to read, watched by him, patrolling the corridors between the benches. He returned to his desk and let his eyes drift over the students, hands in his pockets. Though it wasn’t long then until some of them turned their heads to the still opened door, hearing a clacking getting louder. Even their teacher narrowed his eyes, caring less about the owl than before, when a young woman came strutting in, making the one and other jaw drop. An eyebrow lifted, Severus stared at her too. With a very confident look, she paced towards him, though froze in the front row, her eyes on the bird.
“What is this owl doing there?”, she frowned.
“It got stunned.”, Severus said slowly and as deep as ever. “But the question is, what would you be doing here – Miss Granger?”
“Well, greetings from Professor McGonagall, Sir.”, she dropped the green folders on his desk with such a force that most of the owl’s feathers flapped from the gust, finally looking up at him. “She has asked me to bring you this, since she didn’t have the time for it and believed, missing a part of a lesson would be no tragedy compared to my pace of learning. Other than that, she stated that I would be; rather than anyone else; able to resist manipulating these papers. As you surely might not know, Sir, since; as Professor McGonagall told me; you had been busy last night, Madam Sprout has been taken to St Mungo’s.”
“St – ”, he moaned quietly.
“Her sickness appeared to be far more than just a long lasting cold.”, she panted slightly, but continued her fast speaking. “Before she passed out, she is said to have insisted on you undertaking her lessons.”, the same murmur as in McGonagall’s class went through his, telling her that they were still conscious enough to listen and understand.
“Me.”, he stretched the short word to an alarming length.
“Do you not happen to have a wide knowledge of plants, Professor?”, Hermione sang.
“I – do.”, he groaned.
“Very well, those are tests and essays written before the holidays, which Madam Sprout felt incapable of correcting until the present moment. The students are awaiting the results. Therefore you would be advised to have corrected them in a fair manner, by the end of the weekend, Sir. If you excuse me, I need to get back to Professor McGonagall’s lesson.”, she spun around and strutted back to the door, heads turning after her.
“Miss Granger?”, another very long moan followed her.
“Yes, Professor?”, she spun on her – high, black – heels again, in the back row this time.
“Am I needing to tell you it is the second week of January?”, he continued monotonously.
“No, Sir. I am aware of that. Is there something special about it?”, she noticed herself that she actually sounded a little like Dolores Umbridge.
“Then what is this that you are wearing there?”, he groaned quite annoyed, his eyes briefly wandering up and down her body.
“School uniform.”, Hermione answered curtly.
“Don’t you think, it might still be a bit too cold for the skirt – without tights?”
“No? I am very comfortable with it. Besides,”, she noted nastily, hoping no one would spot her goosebumps, “I am an adult female and I can dress the way I like to, don’t you think, Sir?”, she turned left to leave but was stopped halfway to the door.
“Well, if you must, I advise you to at least pull it down a bit so it sits in the right place or order a new one, if the other is impossible due to whatever inability of yours, may it be of physical or magical nature. Second, close those buttons of your blouse or take a different bra. This is a school, not a whorehouse. And third – ”, Hermione stormed out, pretending not to bother him, “I don’t, recall, such shoes, being part of the girls’ uniform!”, he snorted after her, shaking his head then. “Unbelievable.”, he added mumbling. “Not whorehouse, a madhouse!”
“Happy Birthday, by the way!”, she called back in from the corridor.
One of the boys finally let out a subdued snickering grunt, though not unnoticed. A flick of Severus’ hand and the Hufflepuff slapped his own on his mouth and nose with a groan of pain. An angry look at him and a sigh to the pile of paper and Severus sat down for starting the correction immediately.
Hermione in the meantime had enlarged her cloak and hurtled back to her lesson with a big flushed grin.
“I can dress the way I like to?”, Ginny hissed under her breath.
“She obviously is right, isn’t she?”, Luna giggled quiet, only receiving a warning look from the teacher’s desk.
“It’s your birthday, Sir?”, a boy with mousy brown, short waved hair asked. “All the best, then!”
“If you wish to survive this day, save your breath, Mr Creevey.”
~~#~~
The news had spread in the corridors like a tsunami. Two classes later, he hurried off to lunch, after having been close to deal out detention likewise several times. Fortunately there was the backdoor. Fortunately – on normal days. But this year’s ninth of January was no longer a normal day. The moment they spotted him, a number of Slytherins started to cheer, yelling their wishes up at him, which made all heads turn to the angry mass of black waves and pale skin stomping to his seat. Some teachers threw concerned looks at him, including Dumbledore, who rather hung in his thronelike chair. The holidays had weakened him much. However, there was one who made a foreseeable mistake.
“A very happy – ”, Slughorn sang but broke off immediately when Severus’ head slowly turned to him, only his left eye peering past the black veil of hair.
Some students looked away with subdued giggles. Gnashing his teeth behind his slightly parted lips, he gave Slughorn a look that clearly said noting but `shut up right now or you will find yourself cut in pieces, each bottled in a different glass in my office´, emphasised by pale fingers one after another tightly wrapping around his knife on the table. Literally scared to death, Slughorn continued eating hastily.
Not taking his eyes of him but watching his own moves in the corner of his left eye, Severus raised his hand to cut a tomato casserole in a terrine in front of him, placing the knife on the edge of his plate then, and shovelled a serving onto his plate. Only then he would turn his head to his meal, but not without letting the same expression drift directly over to Hermione. Blushing heavily, she did as Slughorn, hating herself for her idiocy until both of them had finished eating almost concurrent. She also couldn’t miss actual disgust in Charity Burbage’s face. She hadn’t only ruined all his further birthdays, now she wasn’t sure whether she could ever count on his best female friend again.
Severus raised without having spoken a word and walked around the staff table, straight down to her. He didn’t look at her now, though snapped a line she wouldn’t accept just like this. Not even after what she had done.
“Twenty points off Gryffindor for ignoring my order to dress properly and for ruining an otherwise peaceful day, Miss Granger.”
“Fifty points off the staff for you seem to have forgotten the words I said at New Year’s Eve.”, she had jumped up, making him stop and even the last head in the hall looked at her in deafening silence.
“Pardon?”, Severus slowly turned around, raising his left eyebrow.
“You have understood me very well, Professor.”
“And you are aware though, that there is something like – rules? Or has Miss Weasley gone mad at you again?”
“First, let Ginny out of that, Sir, and second, those rules laid down by a person incapable of keeping their toes within safety, likewise?”, she had learned from his way of phrasing and emphasising, as well as how to throw the same bone-chilling looks as he could, yet it seemed she was unsuccessful.
“But apparently, they appear to have not decided to completely ignore those rules.”, he remained untouched.
“Nor, have, I.”
“Forgive me, but I am under a slightly different impression.”, his second eyebrow rose, forming a look of immense boredom. “As good as you believe some of your intentions to be, Miss Granger, considering consequences a little earlier before wailing over them would be a great advice to put down on your imaginary list of wisdoms. Detention. Today. Nine o’clock. And make sure you are wearing something that can be called a school uniform. Otherwise those consequences in the matter might be beyond good and evil.”, he rushed around.
“Wouldn’t seven o’clock be better, so you could prepare for the load of work ahead you are supposed to do for Madam Sprout, Sir?”, Severus turned back.
“It is not for you to make conditions, Miss Granger. Especially not in your very inauspicious position. But if you truly are so desperately seeking for punishment; seven o’clock, my office. I am sure, Mr O’Nelly and you will get along very well and maybe both of you will find sorting Runespoor eggs by size to be a lot more entertaining – in company.”
Hermione watched him storm out, up and away to his classroom. Still all eyes drilling into her; her bag becoming heavy on her left shoulder; she finally left the embarrassing situation for the Gryffindor tower, knowing that she had indeed gone too far.
~~#~~
The distant chime of the big bell. Seven o’clock. The Dungeons. A dark old door. Four knocks. The door opened. Framed by usual black, his hair freshly washed, the cold pale face stared down on her. Was it disappointment? Hermione wasn’t sure. He stepped aside to let her in. Different jars and silver plates were placed on a table, facing a shelf with glasses of disgusting content. The biggest jar actually contained – Runespoor eggs. Two chairs.
“Severus – ”, she aspirated.
“Sit down.”, he harshly cut her off; hasty footsteps echoed in the corridor and a familiar Slytherin boy slid to halt outside. “A little late, are we, O’Nelly?”
“Sorry, Professor.”
“Save your breath. You hardly have any.”, he sneered. “You may join Miss Granger instantly.”, Hermione, who wore the trousers again as well as a more comfortable bra and the actual uniform shoes, had already bound her slightly evened hair together and rolled up her sleeves. “Two hours.”, he said when they had taken their seats and he closed the door. “By nine o’clock I want all eggs sorted after vague size. The size chart is in front of you. One glass for each category. No talking required.”
He sat down behind his desk and started working on some yellow paper folders. Hating herself even more, Hermione picked out the first slimy, slippery yellowish green egg, compared it to the chart and carefully dropped it in the respective numbered jar. Soon she realised that the more eggs she sorted, the more difficult they were to handle and it was hard not to accidentally drop them before they landed where they were supposed to do, or even left the big glass at all. No matter what, she didn’t want to risk a glance on Severus.
It felt like it had been five hours, but in fact only one had passed. Both students noticed with relief, that the jar with eggs was half empty by then. They could still make it in time. Though the substance surrounding the eggs was already spread over half their forearms, sticky and smeary. Luckily the eggs didn’t have a smell. Though the next sixty minutes dragged on even longer than the first and the last two eggs fell with an exhausted sigh from both. A folder was closed noisily behind. Hermione and the Slytherin turned their heads at once. He had raised, arms crossed, now standing right in front of the sink.
“Out.”, a word as cold and sharp as the icicles hanging from the roofs many floors higher.
O’Nelly jumped up and fled through the door that had been opened magically for him by his Head of House. Hermione just sat on her chair, half turned, her dirty arms held up in front. Not the slightest change in his expression. Not when he stared at her for about a minute and not when he lowered his arms and walked over, grabbed her by the elbow.
Curling her lips with tears in the hazel eyes, she let herself be pulled over to the sink. He stuck her arms in, turned up lukewarm water and started washing her arms with a cream coloured soap, standing behind her. She didn’t dare to lean back. Even though his carefully rubbing fingers didn’t reflect his expression, Hermione couldn’t enjoy his touch. Silent tears ran from her eyes when he dried their hands with a towel and she did her best not to give a sound by pressing her lips together. Then she was turned around, finding the anger replaced by sadness.
“If it hadn’t been for half of them not meaning their wishes, I would be utterly grateful.”, a tender hand wiped off her tears.
“Sev-”, a single, soft kiss. “What?”, no answer yet. “You – you aren’t – ”
“How could I be?”, a little smile, actually a bit bemused.
“What?”, she pushed him away. “You – no! Severus! You can’t be – meaning this!”
“What did you expect? Torture?”
“No – I – ”, she ran a hand over her still bound hair.
“I had to say yes, knowing you would be done in time together. Otherwise we would have no time! I needed him to do that. After all he stunned a flying owl while he was supposed to be in class, and I hadn’t gotten to sort them in months! I couldn’t have lived with letting him go before that glass was sorted and it would have taken him quite a number of evenings. You noticed very well that you did most of the work. Now get back to your senses, Hermione.”, he sunk against his desk, only staring at her for some moments. “What were you actually thinking by running around like this?”, he chuckled.
“I – don’t know.”, a slightly embarrassed smirk with a sniff left her. “I considered I might just pull Ron’s attention off Lavender and in the same moment I thought I should grant you a laugh.”
“You succeeded.”, he returned her kind of smile. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to not burst away when you entered? I owe you deep respect for that show. Though – please – never, ever, do something like this again.”
“I will burn the shoes tomorrow. At last. They’re a pure nightmare.”, he couldn’t avoid laughing, though still a little awkwardly and his look drifted over to the empty fireplace.
“If you wish; but you are aware that you will be a great topic and long-time reference for examples of a – I better not say.”, he sighed.
“Yeah. I should be arrested for that stupidity.”, she dropped her head, but saw him reaching out for her. “What?”
“Come to me.”, he gave her a heart-warming smile; she stepped closer, letting her hand be taken.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for.”, he loosened her uniform tie and opened the visible buttons of her blouse. “First, you don’t need to have it that straight. And second, as I said, it was actually a very overwhelming experience. I have never heard so many people wishing me a Happy Birthday, even though, as I said, not half of them meant it. But that doesn’t matter. So, what are you sorry for?”
“Okay, I – I mean, I knitted you a scarf and smuggled half a bowl of chocolate cream out of the Great Hall for Christmas, but I don’t have a birthday present for you!”, she moaned. “Well, now it’s out. Confession made.”
“And what is this, that I just started to unwrap?”, he lightly winked.
“You – ”, Hermione moaned after a second. “You!”, she slackly hammered her left hand against his chest. “You!”, another smack. “You foul, wayward Pygmy Puff!”
“Since when am I small and fluffy?”, he chuckled. “And what happened to the Grindylow I used to be?”
“Shut up.”, the girl mumbled with another moan, taking his face in her hands and leant her forehead to his.
“Would you like to be my birthday present?”, Severus whispered and placed a tiny kiss on her lips.
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
“Why is that so wonderful for you?”, she grumbled.
“Because you are what I need for tonight, perhaps?”
“Don’t say that like you meant it.”
“And what if I – probably do mean it?”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m stupid.”, Hermione sighed.
“No. You are one of the most intelligent young women I ever met and, to be honest, sometimes you really remind me of myself. Or rather, what I should have been like if it hadn’t been for the fact that something always goes terribly wrong in my brain.”
“That’s unfair now. I want to disagree with you, but I can’t, because that would mean it is right of you to love such a flipping idiot as I am.”
“Even idiots need some love, one of the kindest hearts once told me. So, thank you for loving me.”
He laid his arms around her and pulled his wand from his sleeve. Pointing it exactly at the lock of the door behind without looking, sealing the room.
~~#~~
“You should end it, you know?”
“But how?”, Ginny wept.
“I don’t know. I never had a boyfriend. But I know that you are strong. If you really want, you can end it. It hurts me to see you like this.”
“Luna – ”
“It also hurts Hermione to see you like this, even if she doesn’t tell.”
“Luna I – ”
“It hurts Harry.”, there was no further response, but the gasp was proof enough. “Do yourself a favour and end it.”, she took Ginny’s hands.
“She has got a right point on this,”, the Fat Lady sang.
“Oh shut it.”, Ginny chuckled, making the portrait blink.
“You should eat some chocolate before you go to bed. Just a tiny bit. It always helps me when I’m sad. But don’t overuse it. It won’t work anymore then.”
“Okay.”
“Good night.”
“Yeah. Goodnight. And – thank you.”
“Any time.”, Luna smiled when Ginny let go and wanted to enter.
“Would you – ”, Ginny moaned. “Oh come on! Abstinence, you foul hag.”
“At least you got it right.”, the Fat Lady sighed and swung open.
“What about you, Luna? It’s almost ten. What if you get caught? I mean, it’s not far in distance, but Filch and Snape are everywhere.”
“Oh don’t worry. Professor Snape seems to be missing his shift today. I haven’t seen him at his starting point at the time and he is always on schedule, if he does the shift. And Filch is actually a kind man, if you know how to treat him. Good night, Ginevra.”, she hopped downstairs with a short wave back.
“G’night.”
The portrait swung shut behind Ginny and Luna continued her hopping, into the corridor leading to the Ravenclaw tower. There was the light of a lantern around the corner. The caretaker came scuffing, an epic sneer on his face when he spotted the girl.
“Now, now, now. Who do we have here?”
“Good evening, Mr Filch.”, she smiled when she hopped by.
“Not so fast, kiddie.”
“Oh I need to, you know? Otherwise I might be caught out of bed.”, she stopped and smiled back to him.
“Cheeky little brat. That calls for trouble.”
“I don’t think so,”, she pointed her wand at him, still with a happy smile. “Good night, Mr Filch. Confundo.”
“Good night, Miss Lovegood!”
He grinned awkwardly and walked towards the moving stairs, muttering to himself like usual. Not dropping her smile, Luna turned and hopped on, in direction of her House.
~~#~~
Fire was burning in the chimney. A big bag sat in the corner next to a table with some jars, filled with tiny yellowish green eggs. Yellow paper folders on the desk, a red and golden yellow tie atop. On the other side of the desk, a black lavallière. An equally black mass laid on the floor between chair and desk. On the chair, a dark grey vest. In the middle of the space between desk, fireplace and a half opened shelf-door, a black robe with many silver clasps.
Black half shoes. Another black shoe, but larger. Further into the next room, it’s brother. Dim light coming from a half lit chandelier above. Two pairs of socks, a black and a grey one. A white shirt and blouse, mingled to a single heap – not easy to be differed. Black trousers forming an uneven line.
A small wooden casket and an opened envelope next to an old black alarm clock, the only objects on a chest of drawers. A black wand lying beneath. The lowest drawer still slightly opened. Not visible, a framed photo of a smiling woman inside. A lilac hair tie lying next to a light blue bra. The matching underpants, thrown to the other side of the room. Hanging from the top of a bookshelf, white underpants.
Messed brown hair stuck out of a white blanket, mixed with some bundles of black. A muffled giggling, followed by moans of pleasure from beneath the blanket, the shapes of two heads cognisable. The rest of their bodies was a single range down to the foot of the bed. The range moved. More black hair coming in sight.
Gasping for breath, Hermione pushed off the blanket with a laugh. The end she had thrown, came to lie a bit above his waist. Two high peaked mountains rose to each side of his hips. The fingers of his right hand gliding down her left arm, they smiled at each other.
“Will you finally tell me what’s in that box? Or why did you put it there?”
“Please don’t laugh.”
“Why?”
“He is such an imbecile.”
“I know. So, what’s in the box? Or in the letter?”, he summoned the envelope by holding his right hand in its direction and gave it to her so she could finally read the letter. “`Safe and sound´? What the h– what does he mean?”, Severus snatched the letter and envelope from her hands, dropped them on the floor and let the casket soar to him in the same manner.
“Please.”, he held it up high when she wanted to grab it already. “Please don’t laugh.”
“I’ll try my best.”, Hermione smirked, took the casket and slowly opened it, lifting her head a bit so she could look inside. “Oh my goodness!”, she slammed the casket shut and opened it again. “Wha-?”
“I said it; he’s an idiot.”
“How many are these?”, she moaned and started to count vaguely.
“If we need one every second day, we will reach half-time at around Easter. Exactly one hundred. Yes, I counted them. Twice.”
“Oh holy Flabbergasted Leech.”, sighed Hermione. “Has he nothing better to do?”
“As I said, he cares for me, in ways,”, he though couldn’t fully hold back an emerging grin on her words.
“But he doesn’t know it’s me?”
“I don’t think, he did. He has never seen your Patronus, has he?”
“Not that I know.”
“So I don’t think he knew who the otter dancing with the doe is, but after your protest at lunch, I assume he has an idea who she is now.”
“And he didn’t intervene?”
“Horace didn’t either, now did he? Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t confunded him.”
“I wish you had at least. I’m still afraid that he might talk about it when being drunk.”
“Would anyone believe him?”, Severus frowned languid.
“Hmm. Hopefully not. Um – so – do – ”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know how to – um – will we – ”
“Spit it out,”, he smiled mischievously.
“Don’t be so mean.”, she groaned. “I – Severus! Smiling like that doesn’t make it easier! Now – damn it! Stop smiling!”, he chuckled with a grin. “Am I really looking that – cute – when I – ?”
“No, but horrendously sweet.”, Hermione sighed again.
“Now – will we?”, she moaned.
“Only if you want.”, his smile calmed down.
“Have – have you used them before?”, Severus couldn’t help laughing.
“Did you think, Lily got pregnant at our first time?”
“No – I just – were they even invented?”
“The first ones have been used in the fifteenth century somewhere in Asia, with proven evidence. In the nineteenth century they were made of rubber and first latex ones were produced in the twenties. Of course those we had back then weren’t as safe as the most recent, but yes, I know how to use them.”
“For having had sex with only one woman, many years ago, you know quite a lot about condoms.”, Hermione frowned.
“I like to read, remember?”
“Ha, ha, ha. Um – will it hurt?”
“How should I know?”, Severus still grinned, dropping his head. “Hermione.”, he gave her a soft kiss. “Just tell me then, all right?”
“Okay.”, she giggled, blushing.
“And please.”, another kiss. “As much as I like to hear your voice, please stop talking.”
~~#~~
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