Disbelieving, she took a deep breath and dove down, trying to see where he was gone to. His pale skin differed a lot from the dark green tiles and made it rather easy for her to follow him, though he was much stronger and faster. The seconds it took him to get fresh air, were her key. She seized one of his ankles, pulled him down and pushed the unprepared man with his back to the pool wall seen left from the waterfall, which he had wanted to swim along. Her hands ferociously pressed against his chest, her view began to blur more and more, as the lack of breath constricted her throat. Noticing it, he firmly grabbed her wrists and pulled her up with him. Gasping for air, she fell against him, while he tried to hold them above the water, paddling with his legs only.
“What – where – you – thinking?”, she coughed and gargled, staring directly into his eyes.
“I just saved your life again, you silly girl! What were you thinking! Did you want to drown yourself?”
“I meant – before!”, she panted and leaned her forehead against his, trying to see his eyes without having dried her own.
“Hermione.”, he aspirated, closing his lids. “Listen.”
“I don’t care!”, she moaned. “I don’t care that you are my tea-”
“I said, listen!”, he hissed, eyes drilling into Hermione’s after he had wiped them dry. “It – just – ”
“What? It just what?”, but he pushed her off, turned to fog, sprinkling her with water, and rushed up onto the rock, where he sat down, staring at the wall.
“Severus!”, she yelled, though he ignored her. “Come back down!”, no reaction. “Please!”, but the desperate moan was as pointless.
Not knowing what else to do, she climbed out of the pool and went over. Standing in front of the rocks, she looked up. It couldn’t be so difficult, could it? Irate enough, she rubbed her hands dry and started climbing. She got up several feet above the ground until she realised it was very easy – not. Her fingers and toes were slippery and insecure. Half a yard more and they started hurting. But she wanted it. She wanted to climb up to him. If that didn’t help – what could? She slid off, bruised her knee. Angrier, she tried to ignore the pain and climbed on. Only a bit further, she thought. Not much more. Only a bit – she lost grip again.
The topmost box fell over. With a panicking shriek, she tried to hold herself to it, flinging her arms up wildly. She managed to get on top of it, but the huge, empty wooden box didn’t stop tilting. She fell forward as her feet lost ground. For a moment she was completely in the air, the sharp metal fence directly below. Fingers clutched her right arm. Instinctively she seized his wrist. Holding himself on the gutter with the other hand and his shoes digging into the roof tiles, he desperately looked down on her. She, looked down on her own shoes, dangling just a hand broad above the spikes. Then, her head turned up, her shocked green eyes staring into worried dark ones. Gathering all his strength, he pulled her up just enough she could get hold of the gutter as well. Crunching – as fast as they could, they did the best to support one another on the last fathom. Completely exhausted, they rolled over the tiles, panting at each other.
Half angry, half amazed that she had almost managed to reach the top without help, he moved his eyes down to her bleeding knees, but she didn’t care about those. She was safe. Closing her brown eyes with relief, she didn’t see him taking a flask from his pouch. The cool liquid on her wound made her eyes pop open with a gasp. Drop after drop she saw the flesh and skin renew, leaving only the blood. He tenderly took one hand after the other as well, carefully healing every tiny bruise. Last were her toes. When done, he stored the flask and let himself fall back on his bottom and hands again, just looking at her.
“S-”, she started.
“That was very good.”, he said calm.
“What?”, she aspirated, trying to keep her finally focusing eyes on his rather.
“For your first attempt to climb a rock, it was – incredibly good.”
“Oh.”
“But next time, try not to be angry. You won’t be able to concentrate enough, if you are angry.”
“O-okay.”, Hermione sighed. “Thank you for the advice – and – for saving my life again.”, he just let out a chuckle and stood up, offering her his arm once more.
Her legs were shaking as she stood on the slightly rough rock. He placed his left hand on her right upper arm, shortly stroking her with the thumb. Then he turned to walk over to an oval pond on top of the rock, gently pulling her with him. The water was rushing straight out of the pond. Fascinated, Hermione looked at the magical spring, figuring that it had done what it did, for several centuries. He lightly pushed her a little closer to the edge, now standing a wee bit behind her, when she moved her head forward for a better view at the foot of the waterfall. From up there, it looked even higher. Hermione swallowed.
“It is only twelve feet from your toes to the surface.”, he told her.
“It looks like a lot.”
“When you jumped down onto that Devil’s Snare, it was six more.”
“Oh. Well, then I think I should just close my eyes, shouldn’t I?”, she smirked.
“Or,”, Severus said softly, “You could take my hand.”
He let go and held up his palm. As she looked at those slim fingers, the whole hand lightly hovering along his breathing, every sound of the water seemed to drift far away. Or was she drifting? Off in her mind? Was she slowly waking from a long dream? But if – she just couldn’t let it happen. Not now. Not yet. Not before – she at last laid her hand in it, their fingers crossing and closing, slowly but firm in the end.
The sound of water splashing down into the pool below. It returned to her ears. Far away from her view, that still rested on his fingers hooking to the back of her hand. The dream hadn’t ended. She prevented it just before it would have been too late. Swallowing, she looked up at him, into his dark eyes, having never seen them less hollow – at his gentle smile, turning into embarrassed blinking, and he gazed ahead into space, curling the smile off. Shortly lowering his head in thoughts, she watched him take a deep breath before he looked back at her.
“Did you ever jump into water?”
“Only as a child – I – I don’t think it was more than just – two feet – ”
“Well then, legs together and straight down. Don’t forget to take a breath. You can also hold your nose and shut your eyes before you dive in.”
“Alright.”, Hermione gulped again.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”, it was more of a gargle.
“Really?”, his smile was back.
“I am.”, she nodded.
“On three – one, two, three!”
A squeal escaped her at the self-precipitated loss of ground. Doing what he had told her in time, she felt herself rushing down into the water, holding his hand so tight it almost hurt her own fingers. For a moment it seemed as if everything had slowed down, then she was up at the surface again, throwing her left arm over his shoulder, panting. Paddling with her legs as if there was no tomorrow, she let go of his hand, wiped her eyes dry and looked back up, completely out of sorts.
“Whow!”
“And?”, he grinned.
“That – was fun!”, she chuckled, still not believing what had happened – and was happening.
“Another try?”
“What?”
“You want do it again?”
“I – um – ”
“Don’t worry. This time I will support you.”
“Um – yeah!”, Hermione laughed. “Sure!”
Five jumps later; the last two climbs without getting hurt; she could do nothing but hanging on his back while he swam her over to the entrance side, both then sitting down in front of the golden bowl.
“Thank you.”, Hermione panted quietly. “I think I’ve – had enough – for some months.”
“I think so too.”, he contorted his face, nodding.
“That was – the most exhausting Christmas Eve – I’ve had – so far. Combined with – ”, Hermione swallowed to be able to speak properly, “The walks you made me have today, before I decided to just drop the parcel, I think I lost at least three pounds and I won’t need any of your sleeping potion anymore.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”, he smiled, reaching for the bowl. “Cream?”
“No, thanks. It’s yours. And I confess, the bowl was filled to brimming.”
“Thought so. They never serve half bowls. Regardless, thank you.”
“Well, it’s Christmas.”, she giggled, tilted her head back and closed her eyes, relaxing, while he continued to eat.
Deeply in thoughts, spoon after spoon wandered down. Every now and then, he would take a look at her. After a while, her breath calmed and her lips parted lightly. An amused smile wandered across his face. She had nodded off. So he just sat next to her and ate the chocolate cream, watching her sleep.
Almost at the bottom of the bowl, he realised that he had to stop before it would be too much. Careful not to make any sound, he placed the vessel behind and slid deeper into the water. Shortly beneath the surface, he dove through the pool, taking a breath every few yards. To the waterfall and back. Over and back again.
He did that a couple of times before she startled up and rubbed her eyes. Her view a little blurred, she tried to find out where he had gone, the moment when he came back another time, noticing that she had woken up. Gently, he sat down to her right again.
“Good morning.”, he smiled.
“What?”, Hermione yawned.
“It seems, you really are tired.”
“Not anymore, I think.”, she sighed. “How long was I gone?”
“Only a few minutes. Come.”
“Yes. We should really go. It must be late already.”
“Hmm. I don’t know. Yet, I think, you would still want your present?”
“Oh. Almost forgot about that, sorry.”
He had climbed out and helped her following. Then he rummaged for a pair of big white towels and threw one around each of them. Thanking him, she pulled it tight and walked over to her clothes and bag, trying to collect everything, just like he picked up his wand, the bowl, and his clothes. She wondered how he could have lifted them so easily and without letting them slip apart in the slightest. Though she then mentally dismissed it. Taking a peek up and down the corridor, they went to his office, the door opened non-verbally by him.
“How long did it take you to figure out?”, he asked after he had lit the fireplace and chandelier and – locked – the door.
“A while?”, she giggled, understanding.
“You got some nerve,”, his still neat pile including shoes on his left arm, he approached the shelf-door to his private rooms and opened it, giving the chandelier in there an illuminating wave of his hand.
“I thought, you got it in the pouch?”
“I want to give you a Christmas present, not a corrected homework.”, he snorted, placing his clothes on the bed and the shoes beside it. “You may sit down, if you wish to.”, a nod to the bed and he turned to the chest of drawers, carefully placing his wand and the golden bowl next to Lily’s photo.
Curious, she dropped her things on the bed as well, putting her shoes down on the floor by his and sat onto the cosy blanket, both of them still swathed in towels, soaking wet hair dripping onto those. The stone floor was cold and so she slid back, her legs beside her. He on the other hand, sat himself between their clothes and her, crossed his legs and gave her a big dark red parcel with a shimmering dark red ribbon. A chuckle escaped him when she dropped it on the bed, not having expected the weight.
“Oops,”, she laughed. “Let me guess – a book?”
“Just open it.”, he smiled.
Keeping him in suspense, she first opened the bow and pulled it off. Then she carefully peeled off the paper, trying not to rip it. Finally she had it lying in front of her. A big, thick, heavy book, smelling rather new, in leather binding. One thing made her falter: there was no title. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him, only to find him wrapping himself more properly in the towel, still with a smile.
Hermione opened the book, flipped a blank paper and found the title. Her mouth falling open, she understood why there was no title on the outside.
Magika Maxima
An updating encyclopaedia of all spells ever registered
By Owle Bullock
“That – oh my god!”, she gasped. “But that book was banned even before it was released because it’s said to contain simply everything, no matter if easy or most difficult magic, light or – exceptionally dark! How did you – ?”
“Read on.”, he winked.
“What?”, she flipped the mock title and was confronted with a handwritten page.
To the aspiring Miss Hermione Jean Granger, of whom I had gotten to hear only the best from her proud teacher Professor Severus Amalius Snape
May it be a guide of grand help during Your remaining education and throughout Your life
Best wishes and Merry Christmas 1996, Owle Rosamund Bullock
“Severus – ”, she only aspirated, at loss of words.
Disbelievingly she skipped the page to magically chose the language and through the reams, finding all spells sorted alphabetical in category, listed after their incantation; pronunciation, a short explanation of their effect and execution below. If necessary, there was also a sketch of the hand movement included. Glazed eyes, she gazed back up at his gentle smile. Closing it, she heaved the heavy book aside and flung her arms around him, nearly knocking him over and the towel slipping off her as she did. With a happy smile, he laid his arms around her, cheek to cheek. Only after some minutes, she slightly let go, leaning her forehead against his, noses touching again.
“Why?”, she whispered.
“I may ask the same about the scarf, not? Aren’t people who like one another, supposed to make presents?”
“But that – ”
“Is no less than merits you.”
Falling silent, they just stared into each other’s eyes, closer than ever considered possible. The memory of something he had said a year ago echoed in her head. Believe me, if it wasn’t you, I would do it. He picked up the towel and rewrapped her in it.
“I think, it’s time for bed.”
Severus gave her a small, but not very convincing smile she could barely see. He then lightly pushed her off and got up. Pulling her towel tight and turning around, she watched him carry his the pile of clothes and shoes to his high wardrobe. It was filled with long robes and cloaks, all of them being black. All but the purple dressing gown she had first seen two years ago. To the left, there was a shelf inside, each separated space containing different clothes: white shirts, black trousers, Oxford blue pyjamas, white underpants, black socks, the black and an old Slytherin uniform scarf he usually wore for Quidditch matches – on which he placed the purple one – and three pairs of elegant black shoes, where he put down the fourth in the only empty space. He then opened the lid of a woven basket below his robes and threw in the used clothes. Taking one of his pyjamas, he slightly turned around, curling his lips.
“Yes?”, she asked when he looked away in considerations.
“Do you – “, he started, the thought giving him obvious trouble, and looked back at her. “Do you want to – stay here?”, he mumbled, followed by a long pause.
“Um – if – if you don’t mind?”, she aspirated. “Unless – I mean, I could just dry my hair and get back upstairs – ”
He sighed, took another pyjama, closed the wardrobe and carried the clothes over to her, where he laid down one pair in front of her on the bed.
“It might be just a bit too large, but you can adjust the waistband. I am in the bathroom. Knock, if you need something.”
“A hairbrush would be wonderful. I forgot to pack mine today.”, he raised an eyebrow with a sigh, took his wand, pointed it out to his office and a piece of parchment came soaring in, transforming into a brush before it landed in her hands. “Thank you.”, she giggled, staring at his back as he went to the other door.
“You’re welcome. It’s Christmas.”, he said and closed it behind, making her frown.
What kind of odd theatre play was that now? Hermione picked up the pyjamas and put them on, leaving the moist towel on the floor so the bed wouldn’t get any more wet. A bit too large? Although he was nowhere near fat, it was as if she wore a pair of dark blue sacks! She made a knot into the cord of the pants so she could wear them without having to hold them all the time. The shirt reached below her bottom, even though he was just one head taller than her. The sleeves covered her hands entirely and the seams of the pants were a little heap on the floor; massive fabric between her legs. With a sigh, she took her wand from her bag, bent over and started to dry her hair.
Recalling the events of the recent days – and then years, she again tried to work him out. What kind of man was he? She still had no clue. There were so many twists – like he himself didn’t know what he was actually doing in between pretending to be a bullying whinger. He seemed to be very swamped when he couldn’t put on his mask of students’-horror. His robes always buttoned up to his chin, the sleeves reaching his knuckles – and on the other hand he was so obviously comfortable when being naked? That didn’t match. Hermione peeked from beneath her hair while brushing it. The photo of Lily smiling at her by the golden bowl. She had been a very beautiful woman. Beautiful, intelligent, talented, caring – Hermione wondered how it would have been knowing her. How – it was for him, still loving Lily after all those years.
But – there were also these little hints of – what? What did he feel when being together with her? She knew what she felt for him. But he? And the try of a translation she had received from Viktor on what Severus had said to her in the Hospital Wing back then – that is something very personal, I am not sure a teacher should say to their student, but on the other hand I realised British people are different from us – couldn’t he have been more precise? Just a – little? She had an idea, but –
She threw her massive hair back. Not being prepared with Sleekeazy’s wonder tonic at all, it only had half the length and was three times as bushy. Sighing, she folded her clothes and stored them in her bag, putting it down beside the bed. A short glance at the shelf-door, then at the book, at Lily’s photograph, the bathroom door, the lit chandelier, the piano and the secret entrance again. It couldn’t hurt, could it? She went outside, stepped on the notorious stone tile and approached the shelf with the records. Now what should she – she randomly picked a record. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. It was `Your Funeral..My Trial´. With a slight smirk about the coincidence that her mother used to listen to the theme song when she was sad, Hermione placed the record on the gramophone and put the needle right where she recalled having seen it all the time.
The piano started, just the way she remembered it. Something like tears wanted to urge themselves into her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them. It was only a song. It didn’t even mean anything to her. When she rested her wand next to the gramophone and turned around, she startled.
“Interesting choice.”, Severus whispered softly.
“I – sorry, I – just – ”, he approached her, wearing only his pyjamas as well; his now bouffant black hair harmonised far better with his face than when it was hanging down straight, she thought.
“Sh. There is no need to apologise.”, he put down his wand on the desk and closed up.
Years. Years had passed – he thought he would feel bad about it – guilty – but he somehow wasn’t. Maybe he had been longing for it a little too much. In fact, he had been longing for it for over two years, hating himself for it. Hating himself for his weakness, especially when she was – but – it felt good to be weak sometimes. No, simply wonderful. And just now – he had resisted for too long. She was gone. She wouldn’t blame. And, after all, she had done worse. She had – married – and – anyway, this was – only – was it only? He didn’t care what it was and how much. All he wanted was to drown in that moment. He strangely wanted it to last forever. So did Hermione, running her hand through his warm, soft hair as the moves of their lips intensified, feeling his fingers tenderly digging into her back with yearning.
Spearmint toothpaste. A comforting touch so far from a cruel world. The quiet dance of lips, pleasure like diving into a pool of sacred water. Their breath was one, swaying from one to the other, every second or two being renewed through their noses. Something like a space between them was nonexistent; eliminated by the closeness of their embrace, the thin cotton sending shivers through their bodies, robbing their skin. Severus felt an additional tiny touch to that of her lips on his own. Like a fish trying to catch a fly, the tip of his tongue searched for hers. Finally meeting, the feeling made them both tremble. But they couldn’t resist the need. Simultaneously, their lips parted more, to let another pair join in the dance in the cavern between.
The next song started, but it wasn’t what stopped them. There was a loud crack from behind, jolting them up at last. Another. Realising it had only been a billet collapsing in the fireplace, they groaned at once, then looked at each other.
“Severus – ”, Hermione whispered, moaning, and panting heavily. “I – what are we doing here, actually?”
“What kind of question is this.”, he sighed, wiping some curls from her forehead and cheek.
“I – don’t know.”
“Then why ask.”
“But – you hopefully know – that – I – it’s not – ”
“Not – ”, he frowned, “What? What is it not?”
“I guess, we aren’t friends anymore now, are we?”
“It was never me who said that we are friends.”, a smirk, so gentle she could punch it for him making her feel the way she did. “I won’t say I expected you to have realised by now what I feel for you. Well, I did, but I think I also tried my best for about two years to hide it even from myself. I should be the one to apologise for my guilt and restraint when I knew quite early which kind of feelings you have for me, probably before you knew it yourself.”
“And that’s a good excuse for needing more than a year to tell me again.”, aspirated Hermione.
“You couldn’t either.”, Severus noted. “As much as I would have never believed I could love anyone in nearly the way I love Lily. Though it seems, a heart and soul are far too complex and powerful as to be controlled.”, he smiled warmly. “Merry Christmas, Hermione.”
“Merry Christmas – Severus.”
~~#~~
She woke up to the smell of warm toast, ham, herbal spread, eggs, peach jam and cinnamon tea as well as a tender little kiss and warm breath on her left cheek. Rubbing her eyes, she turned and saw the tray on the bedside chest of drawers and him sitting on a chair next to the bed, already wearing a white shirt and black trousers. The purple scarf bound around his neck cost her a broad smile. His deep, soft, happy voice greeted her in the dim light of the chandelier.
“Good morning, my precious.”
“Good morning.”, she sighed with a chuckle to his returned smile and held out her left hand, which he took, enclosing it gently.
“How was your night?”
“Could it be any other than wonderful when falling asleep in your arms?”, that actually made him blush a bit.
“You definitely are in love with me.”
“I suppose so.”, Hermione giggled and raised just enough so she could have a better view on the breakfast.
“I hope, that is to your satisfaction?”
“More than.”, she laughed.
“Do you want to eat in the bed or outside on my desk?”
“Um – I think, I’d – prefer the desk.”, she yawned. “But first I’d need the toilet.”
He let go of her hand and took the tray outside while she stumbled to the lit bathroom, robbing her eyes even more. Feeling like she had actually made that long dream last just a little longer, she looked into the mirror at her messed reflection. Her hair was standing off like a lion’s mane and the fact that she wore no makeup made her unable to believe he could fancy that face at all. Her skin was uneven and pimples grew randomly all over it. Letting out a grunt, she washed that teenage horror and dried it with the towel he had given her. A quiet shriek escaped her when she looked into the mirror again, finding him smiling from behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach, resting his chin on her left shoulder.
“Am I such a frightening sight?”, he chuckled.
“Idiot.”, Hermione mumbled. “Look at yourself and tell me that you aren’t beautiful.”
“There are far more beautiful men out there.”
“As if I cared.”, she murmured. “But how could you possibly love that old broom?”, he brushed his right hand through her hair and pulled her head close. “Oh. Forgot. You played Quidditch.”, that made him laugh heart-warmingly. “Sorry.”, she grinned about that laugh that looked so wonderful on him.
“I like your hair in any way you have it.”
“If you were me, you wouldn’t.”
“But I’m not you. And you don’t know how frustrating it is, having to wash one’s hair every two days because it looks like it was rubbed in lard otherwise.”
“You didn’t really care in years, now did you? And it’s still better than looking like a lion.”
“What can I say, you are a real Gryffindor.”, he grinned.
“Hey!”, she moaned. “I’d rather be in Slytherin then.”
“Don’t say that.”, he lightly shook his head; the smile half vanished, “It is profitable for pretending the convincing image of an evil carnivore, but not all too much for making truly honest friends.”, and was gone.
“I hate those pimples.”, she sighed, just to change the topic.
“You should ask the Weasley twins. I have come to acknowledge that they managed to brew a very effective cure.”
“Really?”, she spun in his arms.
“But on the other hand, I just might still have the recipe somewhere among my old homework. If – they only copied it, rather than stealing the piece.”, she frowned. “What. I was an ugly mess in my teenage days. I simply had to find a solution. Yours are just pimples. I suffered from horrible acne I couldn’t even cure with Bubotuber pus. It only made things worse and in the end it took me three years until I could look at myself even in the slightest.”
“So bad?”, Hermione moaned.
“I had that stuff on my entire body. So you see, I’ve been everything James and Sirius were longing for and didn’t even need to put any effort into it. Brutally ugly, a total nerd at anything – ”
“And strangely having better chances with the girl your brother chased. Yes, that must have driven him mad.”
“Indeed. There is written proof of that time. A lot of it. I think, we’d spent more evenings in detention than with doing homework. As for me, of course. I did it during lessons.”
“Yeah. You said that. And nevertheless you beat him in classes?”
“Nevertheless I had found time for ten times as much extra work as he had.”, Severus sighed. “Not that he would have wanted to, of course. He’d inherited a bit more of our father’s laziness.”
“Now don’t tell me, you’re lazy.”, she giggled.
“I could have done far more with my spare time if I hadn’t been.”
“Anyway,”, by the look he gave her, Hermione knew that this was an ultimate thing to take the way he presented it to her. “Um – could you please go looking for the recipe of – whatever you used? I hate putting on so much makeup every day.”
“Of course. Though,”, his eyes flicked to the left upper corner, “If I concentrate enough, I might also be able to brew it from memory. After all, I needed a lot of it then – and much, much more. A misery, they adorn themselves with borrowed plumes. But who would have bought it from me anyway – ”, he sighed to himself, his considerations interrupted by a kiss.
“All young witches around the world?”, Hermione giggled, her hands on his cheeks.
“I though look beyond those little dots.”
“That doesn’t make them disappear,”
“For me it does. And I like your face, no matter with or without pimples. But if it makes you so happy that you kiss me like that more often, I will do my best to recover the recipe.”, now it was him who started their kissing.
“Thank you.”, she whispered after about a minute.
“Come. Breakfast is getting cold.”, she gave him a look that happened unconsciously, but he interpreted it right. “Yes, I sent them some Sickles with the order.”, he added with a snort.
~~#~~
“We could just go up invisible,”, Hermione whispered, peeking out through the door to the Entrance Hall.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to become invisible?”, Severus hissed back.
They had spent all time until lunch in his rooms, talking, playing piano, kissing and – now they tried to get back up so it wouldn’t look too suspicious.
“No. Of course not.”
“Then don’t speak like you did. It is even more complicated to make another person invisible as well.”
“But you can, can’t you?”
“Merry Christmas, Hermione, Professor Snape.”
Both jumped. Luna had come from the marble staircase and heard them talking. So she had just thought it to be nice to look down over the banister and greet them. In shock, they raised their heads.
“We’ve been missing you at breakfast.”
“We?”, Severus frowned.
“It is a saying, isn’t it? I don’t know about the others, but I have been missing you and so might have Professors Burbage and McGonagall. And Professor Slughorn, if I think about it. So yes, at least four people noticed your absence. But it’s okay. I haven’t seen you. So there’s no need to hide. Everyone’s at lunch already anyway. I just turned and walked up to the Gryffindor Tower to see whether you’re fine, Hermione, and when I didn’t find you in your dormitory, I knew you would come somewhen anyway. I see, Professor, you like the scarf?”, he still wore it, though loosely and he had also put on a usual robe and cloak over the shirt.
“Yes.”, he sighed. “Thank you, Miss Lovegood.”
“I think,”, Hermione turned to him, whispering, “I should just go with her. It’s even less suspicious then.”
“All right.”, he nodded.
“Oh my – ”, Hermione gasped, slapping a hand on her mouth. “I forgot the book!”
“I will take it up for you. It is much easier for me to carry it.”
“Okay. Thank you. Um – roots or paradise?”
“Stone Circle.”, he mumbled serious and Hermione nodded, inwardly excited. “Miss Lovegood?”, he addressed her a little louder, looking back up.
“Yes, Professor?”
“Thank you for your secrecy.”
“Secrecy is, like everything, only a matter of the point of view.”, Luna smiled.
With a last look at Hermione, he melted with the air, leaving her alone with Luna and that statement.
“Shall we, Hermione?”
“Sure.”
They met at the foot of the stairs and went to the Great Hall together, sitting down on the Ravenclaw table. Minerva McGonagall wore a golden glittering high red tartan hat and looked far more relaxed and joyful than on the evening before. Slughorn, in his usual old looking robes of green, had decorated a buttonhole with a holly twig and was as amused as he would have been when drunk. It seemed, the withdrawal didn’t hurt him anymore. Madam Sprout’s nose was still red though and her eyes teary. Professor Trelawney studied her own reflection in the back of a spoon. Just when Hermione had filled her plate, the backdoor swung open and Severus came in, the ends of the scarf bumping as much as his bouffant hair with every step. Though his expression was far from lively. It was grumpiness in person again. Still Hermione noticed the faint smile he threw at her when their eyes met.
Looking straight on his destination then, he walked to his chair, between Burbage; who had twirled up the long cut side of her hair and stuck it in place with shimmering pencils; and Slughorn, to his own disgust. As soon as he sat, he had to duck away from a wide swinging arm. Slughorn was telling Sprout something assumingly very interesting and had given her some kind of size example.
“Horace!”, she gasped, nearly choking and held a hand on her mouth.
“What? Oh!”, he had turned his head and seen that the place wasn’t empty anymore. “Hello, Severus! Dinn’ notice you were here already! Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas.”, he mumbled in return, though he couldn’t fully hide a smile on Burbage’s grinning snort.
“What’s that?”, Slughorn chuckled. “Was that a smile? Blimey! And – oho! That scarf – have you finally found some Christmas spirit, ay?”
“Maybe. We will see.”, he gave a very annoyed sigh and put some noodles with spinach onto his plate.
“Whatever. You gotta listen to that too. I just told Pomona something I recalled. Maybe you remember too. There was this – ”
With the last words he calmed down and Hermione didn’t bother listening anymore. She had asked Severus to give him a little chance and it looked just like he had decided to at least not run away this time. Probably it was due to his friend having forced him to sit next to him. Every once in a while he though would throw a warning look at Hermione when he found her gazing at him for too long.
“You shouldn’t look up too often, you know?”, Luna said rather quiet. “After all he is an adult and I think capable enough to deal with Professor Slughorn. It’s wonderful that you seem to have become friends now, but you shouldn’t let it drift through. Other people might not be so comfortable with the thought and it doesn’t appear to me that he wants everyone to know just yet.”, she got a right point on that, Hermione thought.
“Thanks, Luna. Yes. I think I should really try to control myself.”
“I have started to work with the wool, by the way.”
“Really? What will you make?”
“The first thing will be a new pair of socks. Mine tend to have holes from having to walk around without shoes and this wool is very special. It can only be torn magically. And afterwards I will make a skirt. If I have enough left, I will try on a hat. I don’t have many hats and I thought it would be nice to have one made of this wool.”
~~#~~
Heedlessly picking at his stewed pumpkin pieces and his head resting in his left palm, he read the Prophet. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he actually wasn’t interested in what he would read there. Merely three students were left in the hall. Even Luna and Hermione had gone. The only teacher apart from him and of course Charity, was Minerva, sitting to his right, the empty Headmaster chair between them. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. After all he had told Hermione to await him at the Runestones on the outside end of the Wooden Bridge. He had nearly eaten up when –
“You have been missing quite a number of meals, Severus.”, he turned his head to her, raising an eyebrow and ate the second last spoonful of pumpkin and juice.
“Why does that matter?”
“Well, I am curious, you see?”
“You almost sounded like Luna Lovegood now.”, he huffed, emptied the bowl and switched the supporting hand, looking down on the newspaper again.
“Are you still trying to run away from Horace?”
“I’m not running away from anyone.”, he said flatly.
“Sure. Not for this lunch. But what about breakfast? And – yesterday?”
“I am busy, that is all.”, a page was flipped without being touched.
“Busy? It’s Christmas! What might keep you busy at Christmas!”
“Let him be busy.”, said Charity, earning herself a little grateful smile she could just see as the minimal movement pushed up his cheek and therefore also affected his hand.
“That was not meant for you, Charity. Answer me, Severus.”
“You really know the art of asking questions.”, Severus sighed. “Like the wisest child ever.”
“I am serious. If there is anything you would like to tell – ”
“But there isn’t anything.”, he said languidly; the last three students left the hall as well.
“Severus, don’t try to fool me. I can see that there is something. Horace was right. Who gave you this scarf?”
“What has my scarf to do with the things I am busy with?”, he turned his head to her in his still hand, resulting in his mouth being covered by his bent fingers.
“Well, it is very much differing from your favour of clothes, isn’t it? Upper buttons opened? And – is this a lavallière?”, she snickered, having spotted the black cloth bound around his neck and tucked into his robe.
“And?”, he murmured.
“Don’t take me for a mug, Severus.”, she gave him the same bored look. “Is there a woman in your life?”
“Why should there be – ”, he hissed in disbelief, narrowing his eyes; Charity could barely hide her amused snort with coughing.
“Severus.”, Minerva smiled knowingly, eyeing the other woman though. “Something is obviously changing you. You have never been so relaxed since your later school years. I can see it in the way you move. Are you in love, all of a sudden?”
“I am not!”, he moaned, lowering his hand. “You act like a teenage girl interrogating her roommate!”
“Also I have noticed,”, Minerva ignored his dispute, “An increasing tendency of washing your hair more frequently over the past two years. So, is there a woman – ”
“There is.”, Severus grunted. “And she appears to have made me subject of one of her long-term studies.”
“Don’t be so mean. So?”
“If you are trying to imply that whatever changes you claim to have noticed have anything to do with The Drama Queen,”
“Igor Karkaroff?”, she immediately understood, yet was confused. “But he’s dead!”
“Karkaroff is. Igor, I’m not so sure. I too have noticed a peculiar increasing frequency, yet of postcards from China. So, unless you wish to end up there,”
“Never mind.”, she sighed, with a bright smile again. “It is your life. I am just saying.”
“Fine!”, he barked, stood up and stomped out through the backdoor.
“Haven’t you learned a thing in all those years?”, he could hear Charity’s voice behind.
Was he really giving himself away? But she wasn’t doing her best to hide it either, did she? With a steady pace, he stormed through the backside corridor, past the staircase to the Trophy Room and out into the main courtyard – discovering the last he would have needed. It had started snowing heavily. A frustrated groan escaped him. He rummaged for his winter cloak, threw it over. After having made a well-proportioned knot into his new purple scarf, he rushed across the yard and back through the open oaken gates. If it hadn’t been for the weather, he would have flown. Not even caring to push back his hood, he hurried through the castle, on the shortest way to the Clock Tower Courtyard, not noticing the cat that followed him. A bit faster, he crossed the Wooden Bridge and ran down the few stone steps.
Wearing her black hooded uniform cloak over her winter coat and brown cap, she stood between the stones and looked down to Hagrid’s hut, alone. She had wrapped a scarf around her mouth and nose as well. The change of weather had made the air too cold for breathing comfortably while having to wait. Crunching snow, footsteps slowing down. She didn’t even have time to turn; he had already flung his arms around her, leaning his head to her right cheek from behind with a smile.
“What is this?”, she giggled, muffled by the scarf and he slightly turned her to the side, gently pulling down the wool.
“Now what would it be?”, he softly tapped her nose and kissed her, in an almost dark cavern formed by their hoods. “Change of plan due to the weather, precious.”, he pulled her scarf back up. “We go further south.”
“Now you can?”, she hissed through the brown wool when she found themselves becoming airy grey shades.
“I said, it is complicated, not impossible. Come. I’ll bring you out of the barrier. From there we Apparate.”
Sitting on the stairs, the cat watched their footprints move downhill and out of sight. She had no idea who that woman was, but it wasn’t necessary to know. It was proof enough that she had been right. With a little self-satisfied smile, she slinked back into the castle, shaking off the snow below the Clock Tower before she transformed.
~~#~~