More Truth Revealed

A/N: Hello everyone, so sorry for the long delay in this chapter. Real life kept me too busy for words, and I didn't want to rush through it when I finally did get the time. I hope you can forgive me. Although my summer is shaping up to be quite busy, I should be able to post with a bit more speed than this last time.

As always, I would like to thank my wonderful betas, JENGEORGE and NervousAboutAngels, for such a fantastic job at keeping me on message, and the staff here at The Petulant Poetess deserves the credit for catching all of the grammar and spelling mistakes that I make – a monumental task, to say the least.

I take no credit for the characters or their circumstances. I make no money from the writing and sharing of this story. It all belongs to the amazing J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 21

More Truth Revealed

Snape bounded down the stairs two at a time as he brushed the dust from his frock coat. Draco stood by the front door, looking rather puzzled. "Please forgive my appearance," Snape hastily fabricated a lie. "I was in the attic, searching for silverfish. I have some dried in my store closet, but they have been there so long I cannot guarantee their effectiveness. Fresh ingredients are ever the best, you know."

"Right." Draco seemed dismayed and disgusted. "Any luck?"

"Surprisingly, no. Winky's cleaning spells are so efficient there wasn't a bug in the place. I hope to have more luck in the basement. Surely I'll scare up a few earwigs which can sometimes be used as a substitute. Care to join me?" Snape decided to have some fun at Draco's expense.

"Absolutely not!" Draco exclaimed, his distaste quite evident by the look on his face. "Next you'll be asking me to hunt for dragon dung beetles in your greenhouse."

"As a matter-of-fact..."

"This is a 500 Galleon suit, Severus. If you think I'm going to go traipsing around after dragon dung beetles or pushing my way through a moldy wet basement, you've gone daft in your old age."

Snape feigned disappointment. "Well, if you're not here to assist me, then to what do I owe the pleasure? I've only been back for a couple of hours. You can't possibly expect me to have accomplished much by now."

"Of course not, but you must have had time to brew at least a couple of the more common recipes." Draco's hands wrung together nervously. Snape hadn't seen him this anxious since the night that Dumbledore was killed. "Haven't you finished even one?"

"I only have room for ten cauldrons in my kitchen," Snape began with a touch of irritation in his voice. "I started three with longer brewing times so that they could be completed and tested by the deadline. The other cauldrons all contain potions that can be finished quickly, within an hour or less. I'll save the ones that need to simmer for several hours for overnight, so they can finish while I'm sleeping. Then I'll start the process over again tomorrow."

Draco's patience waned. "You plan to take time out to sleep?"

Snape's glare morphed into a smirk. "Would you rather have me so tired that I make foolish mistakes?"

Draco ignored his snide remark. "But don't you have anything finished yet? Anything?"

Snape stifled a snicker. He so enjoyed having the upper hand when it came to the Malfoys. "Yes, Draco, you will be especially pleased that I had kept all of my sample potions from my teaching days at Hogwarts, therefore I already had something to compare the new results with. Quite a time saver."

"That's great news, so you do have something to show me already." Draco's demeanor relaxed a bit.

"Of course," Snape admitted with a touch of indignation. To assume otherwise would have been an insult on Draco's part. He led Draco through the kitchen, past the many simmering cauldrons, and stopped in front of the storeroom door. Snape had thought this through thoroughly. As soon as he had returned from Gringotts, he had retrieved several of his quick and easy test samples and dusted them off to look like new. Then he had arranged them in a box alongside the appropriate original recipe sample which he left in its well-earned dusty, grimy state. He knew Draco well enough to realize that an inspection of his progress was only a matter of time. But even Snape was taken aback at Draco's early appearance at his front door. He thought surely the young man would have given him at least twenty-four hours. It now became crystal clear to Snape just how important this project was to Draco. As if he had had any previous doubts.

*

Hermione shifted her weight from one butt cheek to the other in an attempt to get comfortable. Who knew how long she would have to sit here in this cramped little dusty, dank space before she was granted a reprieve? And what could Professor Snape be doing for Draco Malfoy that would precipitate his appearance at Spinner's End? And Merlin's meltdown – it was hotter than Hades up here!

She could see from her perch that the professor had kindly left the closet door open in hopes of bringing her some much needed relief from the heat, but it didn't help. Thanks to the open door, she had been able to make out snippets of their conversation while they stood at the bottom of the staircase, but now that they were in the kitchen, she couldn't hear a thing. She glanced around in the semi-darkness. Just to the right of the louvered vent, a pipe shot up through the ceiling below and continued on through the roof. If she recalled the layout of Professor Snape's house correctly, the kitchen was located directly below her, two stories down. Could this pipe vent the kitchen sink? A copper pipe would be an excellent conductor of sound waves. It was worth a try. She pulled out her wand hopefully and touched the tip to the pipe. "Sonorus," she whispered.

"...and as you can see, the color and clarity are much improved. I have found this to be the case with each that I have tested thus far. And not just the appearance, but also the effectiveness. Take the boil curing potion, for example. I tested it on myself. It not only gets rid of the boil, it erases any scarring. And it works both as a topical agent and when taken internally. The taste is even tolerable."

Hermione thought she could hear Draco laugh, but she wasn't sure. "The old recipe is vile to the nose as well as the pallet. I'll never forget the taste. My mum forced me to take it once when one of my cousins hexed me. It was horrible."

Hermione giggled at the thought of Draco with a large boil on the tip of his nose.

"I've never seen anything this good at curing boils," Professor Snape continued. "If all of the others are this much improved over the traditional recipes, you'll have a revolution in potions education on your hands. Even St. Mungo's staff will want to throw out their old books for this one."

"Excellent! This is just what I was hoping for. I feel confident enough to start scanning the pages into the computer now, so I can proof the copy and format the book. What a pain. I wish to Merlin that he had just given me the entire thing on disc. It would have saved me a day and a half of prep-time."

Snape stored that info in the back of his mind for his revised second edition, but decided to play dumb. "Given it to you on disk?"

Draco regarded him with disdain. "That's right, I forgot. You're a techno-dinosaur like Father. For that matter, he could have sent me the entire thing via email."

Snape continued to feign ignorance.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your concern, I was just thinking out loud. But hey, if you're still this enthusiastic tomorrow afternoon, I'll get the master binder started on the covers. By the time you give me the final analysis on Monday morning, I'll have the finished product ready to move into production."

"And not a moment too soon," Snape observed. "School will be starting before you know it."

Hermione felt quite guilty for having eavesdropped on their conversation. She had heard enough to know what was going on and why, so she removed her wand from the pipe, and the voices dissipated. Only a few moments later, she heard Draco exchange pleasantries with Professor Snape, and with a promise to return tomorrow, he was about to walk out the door, but stopped just short. She could just make out their final exchange from the hole in the attic floor.

*

"Wait, I forgot to tell you something this morning."

Snape raised his eyebrows, "Oh? And what would that be?"

"I stopped by the pub last night for a drink after work, and that sod, Weasley, was in there crying in his mead."

"And why should I find this interesting?" Snape asked with impatience as his thoughts turned to Miss Granger melting in his stifling attic.

"It seems that Lavender Brown wanted to marry him now that he is a free man, but he refused her."

"So why would that drive him to tears? Could he find no one else to shag?" Snape spat out spitefully.

"Not if Lavender has anything to do with it. He said she threatened him. She said that no man uses her then tosses her aside and gets away with it."

"That sounds ominous," Snape mused. "What do you think she might resort to for revenge?"

"Oh, this is the rich part – she's already done it. She marched into the pub while I was there and announced to the room at large that she broke up with him because... how did she put it? Oh yeah, 'because Weasley's weenie is too teeny.'" Draco began to giggle. "She said that his weenie was so teeny that he couldn't keep her satisfied." Draco's chortle turned into a guffaw, and Snape smirked in spite of himself. "She said that her favorite phrase during sex with him was, 'Is it in?'" Draco's sides shook in silent laughter as he struggled to breathe. "Needless to say, he stood in defiance and argued that his weenie wasn't teeny," Draco was now laughing so hard that he could barely get the words out, "I thought he might whip it out right then and there, just to prove himself, but the damage had already been done." He paused to wipe a joyful tear from his eye. "Then he turned three shades of red – you know how colorful those Weasleys can get when they're angry – and stormed out the door." Draco clung to Snape's doorway for support as his sides stitched. "Of course the whole place went into hysterics the instant he left."

Snape could no longer stifle his amusement. Served the bugger right.

"She apparently also announced it at the spa, because when I finally got home, Wilhelmina told me that she had heard it there as well. I imagine every witch in Britain knows by now."

"Indeed," agreed Snape with a snicker. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

"And did you see the Prophet this morning?"

"It was in there, too?" Snape felt shock that such lecherous gossip would make the paper, but the Prophet had been known to stoop quite low of late.

"No, no, nothing about Weasley and Lavender...Granger and Viktor Krum. Talk about adding insult to injury! Now not only will he have to resort to Muggle females if he wants a good shag, his ex gets to parade around town with the most famous Quidditch player who ever lived. Boy, she rubbed his face in it, didn't she? I'll have to grant her that. I don't know what's worse."

Snape's eyes grew dark as the humor left him. "Weasley deserves it after what he did to her. His behavior was disgraceful."

"That's what he gets for marrying a Muggle-witch in the first place, if you ask me!"

Snape's disgust was aimed squarely at Draco, but he knew that Draco would interpret it as disgust for Miss Granger, so he didn't even attempt to hide it. "As entertaining as this little tale is, Draco, I'm sure you'll agree that I should get back to my brewing."

"Oh, right. Wouldn't want to waste your time and my money. Hop to it, then. I'll come round tomorrow."

Snape nodded. "Good day," he said as he closed the door. He leaned against the solid oak planks, took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "Finally," he whispered in relief. Then he rushed up the stairs to retrieve Miss Granger. He wondered if he should mention the conversation that he had just had with Draco about her ex-husband. He wondered if she had been able to overhear the conversation. He thought perhaps that, if he said nothing, she would hear the story through the grapevine of her own accord, and he could avoid the subject all together, which would be his first preference anyway. So he decided that if she didn't mention it, he wouldn't either. It was cruel to find amusement in someone else's pain. He had practiced that lifestyle for years as a Death Eater, but his heart was never in it. He felt a touch of shame for finding Weasley's predicament amusing, but he reminded himself that, in this case at least, the punishment fit the crime.

"The coast is clear," he announced as his head popped up through the attic access.

He backed down the ladder and held on to her waist as she descended into the closet below. Her mind was filled with what she had just heard, and she felt dizzy from the heat, so she was not concentrating on the ladder as she made her decent. Her foot slipped off the bottom step, and she would have fallen if Professor Snape had not been grasping her strongly about the waist. When she had regained her footing, she turned, laced her fingers behind his neck, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. He quickly brought his hands up to grasp her face. His long slender fingers traced her papery lips then traveled up to brush a lock of hair from her eyes. It stuck to her skin from the salty sweat that should have still been pouring off her forehead. Suddenly her eyes, her throat, her lips felt dry and parched, and she became lightheaded.

"Oh, dear. You're dehydrated. Come quickly!" He pulled her hands from around his neck and led her downstairs to a chair in the kitchen. With a flick of his wand, a glass came from the cabinet to park in front of her on the dinette table. Another flick Summoned the pumpkin juice from the ancient refrigerator. He poured it without ceremony and handed it to her. "Here, drink!" he commanded.

While she sipped hers, he summoned another glass and served himself. "Relax for a few minutes. You should rest before you try to go anywhere. Have you eaten anything? Winky could make you some lunch, if you'd like."

She wanted to stay. Truth be told, she could stay with him in this little house forever and be perfectly happy. She didn't need the job at Hogwarts or the Ministry. She didn't need anything but his company and the company of her children. But she imagined that with no job for the past twenty years, he could barely afford to feed himself, much less her and her two growing children. And he was right, if she kept his company, any reputable job would be out of her reach. She would be a burden on his already stretched finances. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. Bloody conviction... It always came down to that damnable farce of a bloody conviction. She felt like weeping, but there was not enough moisture left in her body to manage it.

Snape noticed the glazed look in her eyes and decided that she did indeed need some food. "Winky!" The elf appeared instantly from the laundry room in the basement.

"Yes, master Severus?"

"Would you mind taking a break from the laundry and fixing Miss Granger here a sandwich? I would do it, but I really do need to get back to my brewing."

"Of course, master. Winky would be honored to feed miss." She turned to Miss Granger who was still nursing the first glass of pumpkin juice. She noticed immediately that Miss Granger did not look well. She looked up at Snape with great concern in her tennis-ball eyes.

Snape's gaze met Winky's, and after a moment of silent communication, he nodded. "I agree. Pumpkin juice is not enough." He disappeared into his store closet and emerged with a dusty jar full of pale cloudy green liquid. Another glass floated from the cabinet to the kitchen table, and he filled it with the newly acquired concoction. He touched his wand to the glass to cool the beverage inside. Then he handed it to Miss Granger. She didn't seem to be able to focus on his face. This concerned him greatly. Had she really been up in the attic that long? He had tried to get rid of Draco quickly. Perhaps it had not been only the heat at play here.

"Electrolyte potion," he answered before she could ask. "Drink. All of it. NOW!"

This time she didn't hesitate. It tasted delicious, not at all like the potion she remembered from Madam Pomfrey's store closet. And the color was more of a neon jade than the hospital wing's turquoise potion had been. Was this some new recipe that Professor Snape had developed? Surely not – the jar he poured it from looked old fashioned, and the dust... It hadn't been disturbed in years. No, this was not "new," but it was very different from anything she had seen or tasted before.

"Perhaps you should go lie down on the couch in the living room until Winky gets your lunch ready." He cupped her chin in his hand and gently turned her face up to his. The color had already begun to return to her cheeks, thank Merlin. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Dinner last night with Viktor," she answered absentmindedly.

"What did you eat and how much?" He noticed that she was still having trouble focusing.

"I don't remember... not much," she replied honestly. All she could remember from last night was Viktor's revelation that Professor Snape was in love with her. The rest was just a blur, insignificant, miniscule.

She guzzled the last of her Electrolyte potion. Then Professor Snape grabbed her arm and gently but firmly led her into the living room. He Summoned a pillow and placed it at one end, then he delicately removed her shoes and helped her to swing her feet up at the other end. Winky followed with a wet washcloth to drape over her forehead, and the convalescent scene was complete. As they both retreated back into the kitchen, Hermione fell into a state of semi-consciousness.

After several minutes passed, she could feel the potion coursing through her veins, bringing her back to coherency. As the room came into sharper focus, her energy level soared, and she sat up. To the best of her recollection, she realized that she had eaten very little for over a week. Her diet had consisted mostly of coffee to keep her awake and alcohol to help her sleep, both diuretics. No wonder she had become dehydrated. So much had happened. Her stress level had been higher than usual, and at times like these she found it difficult to think about food.

Just then, Winky's head appeared in the doorway between the living room and the dining room. "Miss's lunch is ready," she announced with a big toothy grin.

Suddenly, Hermione felt very hungry. She gratefully made her way from the couch to the kitchen table, but noticed with disappointment that there was only a place setting for one. Professor Snape's back was to her as he busied himself with the next potion. "Won't you be joining me, Professor?" she asked.

"No, I had my fill before you showed up at my door. Please don't be offended, but, as you saw earlier, Draco is breathing down my neck on this project. I haven't a moment to spare."

Hermione tucked into the fish and chips in front of her and chased it down with another cool glass of that delightful Electrolyte potion. By the end of the meal, she felt quite back to normal. After thanking Winky, she stepped up to Professor Snape's side and peered over his shoulder to get a glimpse at the project that had so completely taken his attention.

"Don't you need to get back to work?" he asked as he shot a glance her way.

"I'll tell them I fell ill. It's not far from the truth, you know."

"You may put on some music and read on the couch while you get your strength back, if you'd like. But I really don't have time to entertain you right now." His voice was gentle, apologetic.

"I don't expect to be entertained," she replied, "but could I see what you're working on?"

Snape eyed her skeptically. If he didn't acquiesce, she would surely get suspicious. But if he told her what he was working on, she might surmise the truth. He quickly put together a scenario in his mind to explain away the visit to Viktor Krum's office, but decided only to explain that if she asked. If he gave her just the right amount of back-story, she might be fooled. "I am testing the recipes in a new potions text manuscript series. Draco wished me to proceed with the utmost secrecy. If this isn't all he hopes it to be, it could prove quite an embarrassment for him. However, if it is everything that Viktor Krum touts it to be, it could make all involved quite a bit of money. So he asked me to test as many recipes as I could in the next four days."

"Four days? That's not much time."

"He felt that I could get a sense of the book's authenticity by then, and be able to vouch for the expertise of its author."

"Who is the author?"

"No one I've ever heard of. Shamamian – Ari Shamamian, I think."

"Sounds foreign."

"Draco said he's from Armenia."

"Does this have anything to do with your business with Viktor last week?"

Of course she would make that connection, you idiot. She is the brightest witch of her age... "Yes. He asked both his former potions professor at Durmstrang and myself to look it over before he approached Draco with the project. I assume that he didn't want to embarrass himself any more than Draco does. I was returning the manuscript to Viktor the day we all had lunch."

"But Draco wasn't satisfied with just a look-over." She didn't seem surprised.

"No, Draco needs concrete proof that the texts are all that they claim to be. He will have much more at stake, after all. I can understand his position."

"May I?" Since he was currently referring to the OWL level manuscript, she reached for the NEWT level manuscript underneath it. She noticed that Winky had already cleared her lunch dishes and wiped the table clean, so she settled at her previous location and began to flip through the pages.

The first thing that she noticed was the fact that the pages had been created on a Muggle computer and printed onto basic white paper with a Muggle ink-jet printer, not hand written on parchment as she would imagine a wizarding manuscript should be. She simply glanced at the recipes at first, but as she racked her brain to recall the recipes from her old school text, she began to recognize the subtle changes that this new author had made to improve each formula. Nothing major, just stirring patterns and ingredient preparation mostly. Occasionally she would notice the addition of a common Muggle herb, something that most wizards would never think to use in a magical potion.

On page thirty-six, she found the Electrolyte potion. The addition of ginger root and essence of citrus must have helped to improve its flavor, and this new recipe called for ground seaweed instead of chopped, which could have easily been responsible for the change in color. But from what she gathered from her eves-dropping, Professor Snape had only just received the project from Draco this morning. The Electrolyte potion took two weeks to mature. And the jar he had retrieved from his store closet looked as if it had not been touched for years. What was going on here?

On the very next page, the answer came to her. The recipe for Draught of Living Death spread out before her eyes, and the memories of subtle changes from Harry's old text came flooding back to her like watching a Muggle home movie of her childhood. This new recipe called for crushing the sopophorous bean with the flat side of a sliver dagger to release the juice. It also called for adding a clockwise stir for every seven counterclockwise stirs to finish and achieve the almost crystal clear pinkish color.

These were the changes and refinements of the Half-Blood Prince.

She stared in amazement at the back of Professor Snape's head as he worked busily to keep up the charade that she was now privy to. Ever the bushy-headed busy-body, she could not keep her new-found secret to herself.

"Why are you bothering to re-test your own long-proven recipes?"

Snape's heart skipped a beat. How could she have possibly come to that conclusion so quickly? Was she psychic? Her revelation changed everything. As his heart raced, he turned slowly and feigned confusion. "I...I beg your pardon?"

She had a feeling that he would deny it. If he held any hope of actually selling the book to anyone, he would have to keep his identity a secret. Apparently, even Draco didn't know. She wondered how he could keep the truth from Viktor.

"The Electrolyte potion. I distinctly remember the turquoise color and a most dreadful flavor from the one in Madam Pomfrey's store closet back at school. The version you just gave me was delicious, a jade green, and it was much more efficacious than the old version. But yet, your jar was old and dirty..."

"You mean this one?" He had thought about the possibility that she would question his recipe while she was resting, so he had thoroughly cleaned the jar.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "It was dirty a half hour ago."

"You must be mistaken." He really hated himself for lying to her, but he couldn't risk his secret escaping.

"But it takes two weeks to mature, and you've only had the manuscript since this morning," she insisted stubbornly.

"Ah, so quickly you forget..." He smiled. He knew a way out of this. "When Krum gave me the manuscript to look over three weeks ago, I decided to try a few of the potions, just to be thorough. This," he lifted the sparkling clean jar in question, "just happened to be one of them." He smirked at her triumphantly. "Lucky for you, I'd say."

Hermione returned his smile with a scowl as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No." She shook her bushy head. "That's not all." She began to list them off. "Felix Felicis, Amortentia, Draught of Living Death, Polyjuice Potion..." She pointed enthusiastically to the plain white pages in front of her. "These recipes all have the mark of the Half-Blood Prince."

Professor Snape's face suddenly went blank. The antique jar and what was left of the Electrolyte potion slipped through his limp fingers and shattered on the hard tile beneath their feet. Hermione met the crashing sound with a gasp as her eyes found his. Only he wasn't looking at her but through her. His vacant expression seemed to convey that he had been transported someplace far away by her accusation. Someplace she could not follow. After she waved her wand to clean up the mess, she had no choice but to sit quietly and await his return. But as she sat there and watched his face transform from a blank canvas to one of stress and fear, she became afraid of what lengths he might go to in order to keep his identity under wraps.

"The Half-Blood Prince," he whispered, his face now stone-like, unreadable. "I have not heard that name in over forty years. How do you know of this?"

Hermione gripped her wand under the table and tried to sound casual, but her voice betrayed a hint of nervousness. "Well, for one thing, it's your screen name."

Snape breathed a huge sigh of relief, but it was short lived. "Certainly you don't think that I had anything to do the writing of..."

"Harry had your old textbook in sixth year," she interrupted him. "Didn't you know? You must have had your suspicions about it after he excelled at Potions and used one of your own spells on Draco in the girls' bathroom."

Professor Snape remained silent, but his face echoed the loathing he had once held for Harry. Hermione tightened her hand around her wand and took a deep breath to continue. "I studied it thoroughly before I discovered that it had belonged to you." Her head dropped in shame as she spoke again, but her eyes never left his face for fear of what he might do. "I was afraid that something bad would happen to Harry because of it. I thought that it was cursed with dark magic."

"And you remember what was written in its margins? After all these years?"

"Yes." Her chin shot up with pride in him. "You were brilliant, even back then."

Snape remained quiet for several moments, trying to decide how to proceed in order to protect his secret. "I appreciate the complement, Miss Granger. But I must ask, do you think Potter would remember? When the book is required reading at the school and his children come home with it, do you think he will also recognize the origin of its contents?"

Her eyes searched his and found suspicion and apprehension there. If his secret were to leak out, he would be ruined. Twenty years of his life would have been wasted. She had to find a way to still his fears so he wouldn't feel the need to Obliviate both of them. "Harry might figure it out, but he would be the only one. And he would never tell. I know he wouldn't. We'll both take the Unbreakable Vow if you want us to."

Snape's gaze found the greenhouse door, and he was lost in thought. He shook his head slowly as he contemplated how to implement damage control.

Hermione misinterpreted his look as a decision to cast the spell on her and deal with Harry later. Out of sheer desperation and self preservation, she silently cast the Protego Charm.

Snape immediately felt the pulse of power from her charm, and he staggered backward in its wake. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, obviously offended.

"I can't risk Obliviation," she explained. "I won't allow you to take away one single minute that we have spent together. You may not be able to give me your affection, Professor, but at least let me keep my memories of you. They are all I have." Her look was defiant and pleading at the same time. "Your secret is safe with me, I swear it."

When she had first put up the shield charm, it angered him. But if he had been in her position, he probably would have done the same thing. And her only desire was to preserve memories of their time together. Memories he would no doubt cherish for the rest of his life. The fact that she also valued them enough to fight for them warmed his heart. A surprisingly pleasant notion, indeed.

"Miss Granger," he began in a low authoritative tone, "there is nothing to fear. I will not be stealing your memories away. Besides, to rob you of the last few hours would only erase what you have seen today. As soon as you peruse your child's new textbook, you will uncover the truth all over again. I could only erase the possibility of discovery by wiping out everything in your mind from now back to your sixth year in school. And as much as I may have enjoyed doing that to Potter in the distant past, I could never bring myself to put either of you through that now."

Hermione relaxed in her chair and let the Protego Charm fade. "Thank you," she said with watery eyes.

Snape nodded. "Please don't make me regret it." Then his mind suddenly came up with another problem. "Does Potter have the textbook now? My old textbook?"

"No."

A touch of panic gripped his soul. "Where is it? Is his oldest brat using it at Hogwarts?"

"No, no. Professor, don't worry." She stood and crossed the kitchen floor to place a soothing hand on his arm. "It's gone. No one will ever find it." His worried eyes betrayed his skepticism, so Hermione continued. "It was destroyed during the final battle of Hogwarts. Harry had hidden it in the Room of Requirement, and everything in that room was consumed in a Fiendfyre that night."

He heaved a heavy sigh of relief. Nothing combustible in existence could survive a Fiendfyre. Any evidence of the true authorship of these texts lay safely within the confines of his well-warded store closet. His eyes met Miss Granger's again, but this time all they contained were fatigue mixed with relief. "Could you speak with Potter, assure his cooperation? Just to put my mind at ease? I wouldn't want him to start rumors when the new text comes out."

Hermione gently patted his hand. "Of course."

*****

Miss Granger left shortly after her reassurance, but just before she exited his front door, she had glanced back over her shoulder and said, "Oh, by the way, Ron's weenie is not teeny."

Snape felt a hint of blush stain his cheeks. "I could have gone the rest of my life without that bit of news, Miss Granger," he had chided her, but he had watched with amusement as she walked away giggling.

He had then gone on with his brewing until well into the wee hours of the morning. He had left several long-term potions simmering, with one in stasis, and he felt a healthy sense of accomplishment when his head finally hit the pillow. His bank account had grown considerably, he had convinced Draco that the project held promise, and he had made his peace with Miss Granger with regard to their relationship. And as a bonus, Snape could now talk openly with her about everything. That was a relief, to be sure.

As he drifted off to sleep, however, the images of that afternoon in the attic invaded his mind. There she sat in front of him, so close, so hot, with a healthy dose of pheromones hanging heavy in the air. He could feel the perspiration dripping down his spine as he watched it trickle down the side of her neck. But as he gazed lovingly into her eyes, the setting changed. Instead of the dark and dusty attic, he could feel bright sunlight on his shoulder and a cool ocean breeze on his face. It was still hot, to be sure, but dust and dirt had been replaced by sand and humidity. He and Hermione lay naked, face to face in a small cotton-rope hammock. The gentle rocking increased with each movement as he shifted his position to get more comfortable. He imagined that this particular hammock was only designed to hold one person at a time.

"I have an idea," Severus suggested in this luscious dream. "Why don't we see what happens when we use the motion of the ocean?" He struggled to free himself from the rope's clutches and finally got to his feet. He bent down to bestow a long, leisurely kiss on her mouth, then he couldn't resist the decent to her breasts by way of her neck and collar bone.

"First the hammock and now the ocean. My, my, you're full of surprises today, aren't you?"

Severus chuckled deeply, his lips tickling her left breast. "Isn't that what a honeymoon is supposed to be for, love? Exploring the possibilities?"

Hermione snorted. "Certainly wasn't Ron's idea of a good honeymoon."

"I'll have no talk of Walnut Brain today!" With that, Severus scooped Hermione up in his arms and began the march to the breakers. It wasn't far, and he was glad because the sand had grown hot in the afternoon sun. He reached the water's edge with a sigh of relief. But he didn't stop there. He carried her into the water, past the breakers, to where the swells rose and fell gently. They undulated from mid chest to his shoulders, and the water in their little private cove had grown warm under the tropical sun.

"This is like bath-water!" she exclaimed, sounding almost disappointed.

"How fortunate. Why do you think I chose this location?"

"I would have thought that you'd prefer it a bit cooler and more refreshing."

"Ah, yes, and under normal circumstances you would be correct. But, you see, if the water had been too cold... well, I'm afraid that my performance would shrivel into non-existence." He laughed an evil little laugh, then he dove his face beneath the water to blow bubbles on her bare belly. She kicked and squealed madly with delight.

When Severus let her legs go so she could stand, Hermione discovered that the water was at times over her head, which she used as an excuse to lock her fingers together behind his neck. He didn't seem to mind, and she noticed with great anticipation that there would be no shriveling here this afternoon.

Severus let his hands wander down to her breasts where he couldn't resist lingering as he watched them bob in the water. Such a sensuous sight. He ventured on to her hips and coaxed her thighs apart and up to be perpendicular to his vertical frame. They slid together easily. The extra buoyancy that the salty Caribbean Sea afforded them made it feel so natural to move with the undulating waves. The movements were slow and graceful but still erratic, which made the whole experience incredibly erotic. They slipped in and out of each other as the water swirled around them. And after they had both reached a delicious climax, they stayed there, locked in a deep and passionate kiss, swaying with the ocean's rhythm, basking in their embrace and the eternal warmth of their love for each other. So peaceful, so perfect. There were no words to adequately describe it.

Snape drifted from that blissful scene into a much deeper, dreamless sleep.