Part Thirty

AN: Thank you, dear Lariope, for the use of your wonderful beta skills.

A frantic glance at the clock told her that she was running late.

"Assuming Severus arrives at five. If he doesn't come until six, then I've got plenty of time," Hermione tried to reassure herself, even as she dug through her closet to try to find something that would work for dinner and some sort of amusing diversion. Nothing too dressy, because she didn't want to seem like she was trying too hard, and nothing too casual, because there was no reason to look like a frump if she could help it. Something that would go well with the ivory combs that Severus had given her.

She looked at the combs, safely kept on a dish on her dresser.

Hermione remembered the knowing looks she'd received when she'd emerged from her office the day that Severus had visited. She had been flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and her hair had obviously been rearranged. She had tried to explain to Mister Fitzgerald that Severus had merely stopped by to share some good news and to give her a gift, but he had only nodded and told her that what happened behind the closed door of her office was really none of his business. At least Mister Fitzgerald had spoken to her; the clerk at the counter had watched Severus leave and then turned the most unappealing shade of puce the moment he'd looked her way, ducking behind a book display and wheezing so violently Hermione was afraid he might hyperventilate.

With another worried glance at the clock, Hermione slipped into a dress she found near the back of the closet. It came to her knees and was a shade that seemed to flatter her coloring. She topped it with a soft cashmere cardigan since there was still a bit of a chill in the April air, especially in the evening.

She let the ivory combs manipulate her hair into a French twist. After a moment's scrutiny in the mirror, Hermione had them do it again, this time leaving a few strands down to brush against her face and neck because Severus seemed to prefer her hair that way.

Her wand was safely tucked into her purse, and her feet into a pair of low heels, just as the hands of the clock hit five.

-~8~-

"Yorick!" Severus bellowed as he exited the door of the lab. "Did you– Yes, you did."

After picking up the parcel the falcon had left on the dining table, Severus pulled a not-quite stale biscuit out of his pocket and dropped it in the cup attached to the bird's perch. Yorick fluffed his feathers and gave a small poke at the treat before turning his back.

"Don't grumble or you won't even get that," Severus stated grumpily as he headed back toward the lab. "I've been too busy with orders to even contemplate shopping for my needs, let alone yours."

Stepping back into the controlled chaos that was now his lab, Severus placed the parcel on a bench before he split it open and checked the contents for freshness. Unlike Darrel Fingalnott, who apparently liked placing all his eggs in one basket, Severus hadn't dropped all his other customers and was pleasantly busy. The others were still under the assumption they were dealing with Simon, and – until it was determined how successful the Fingalnott potions remained – they would continue dealing with him.

"Good enough," he grumbled before it was whisked into a glass jar. A Stasis Charm was applied before it was roughly shoved into its proper place on the shelf. A glance at the lab clock showed he had plenty of time to check on the other occupants of the lab. He yawned and stretched before approaching the cages holding the mice.

"If you ladies and gentlemen don't give me any difficulties, I might have time for a nap," Severus said while peering into the interiors. "Well, bugger."

Lorenzo was back to being a love-sick rodent. Hermione wasn't going to be too happy, and it didn't take a Sybil to know that. What Severus didn't know was how he felt about it. On the one hand, they apparently were on the right track – on the other, they were apparently on the right track.

A few hours later, Severus, sans nap, raised his fist to knock on Hermione's door. It was precisely five-fifteen in the afternoon. He hadn't wanted to arrive exactly at five, since in his opinion, it would make him appear desperate, but he hadn't wanted to wait until six either. Five-thirty would probably have been a good compromise, but he wasn't a patient enough man to endure those extra fifteen minutes.

-~8~-

She rushed to the door at the sound of his knock, then forced herself to pause and take a deep breath before she reached for the knob. One deep breath turned into two, then three, until Hermione felt sufficiently calm enough to open the door without looking like she had bolted across the living room at the first indication of his presence.

Which she had.

Right, then. Door.

She opened the door and smiled. "Hello, Severus."

Hermione almost invited him in, thinking that a good hostess would offer her guest something to drink, perhaps tea.

Considering the way her thoughts immediately skittered from "tea" to "on the kitchen table," she thought it best to just ignore the temptation all together and was even congratulating herself for quickly stepping out into the hall and locking her door.

Then she had to ruin her brief moment of self-discipline by turning to face Severus and shyly nodding toward Mrs Carmichael's door. "Mrs Carmichael is visiting her nephew this weekend. She won't be home until tomorrow," she blurted, barely managing to bite off the rest of the sentence, which would have ended in something similar to "in case you wanted to kiss me again."

-~8~-

Severus' head, thanks to Hermione's nod, turned in the direction of Mrs Carmichael's residence, and one brow rose.

"Pity," he said after meeting Hermione's eyes. "I'd been rather looking forward to outfoxing the old – her – again. Should I thank her for keeping any other suitors away from your door? I doubt many would brave such a persistent busybody camped on your step."

Severus realized, too late, the wording he'd used and hoped Hermione wouldn't call a halt to the evening before it had even started. They were supposed to be friends, and he had classed himself as a suitor.

"I've made early reservations at a fairly new wizarding restaurant in the hopes it will enable us to make the opening act of what I've heard is a delightful comedy," he stated almost hurriedly as he held out his arm. "It's supposed to be based on the rather ludicrous Mister Janus Thickey."

-~8~-

She took his arm, grinning as she thought of Mrs Carmichael's increasingly transparent attempts to match-make since Hermione had moved in to the building. "Oh, I wouldn't thank her. If anything, she's dragged more unsuspecting but 'nice and respectable' – her words, not mine – young men over my threshold than mum, dad, Aunt Imogene, Ron and Harry combined. First she was convinced I was perfect for one of her male relatives, someone named Hershival, I think. Then, one night when she'd been into the cooking sherry, she'd dared to ask if I might be interested in meeting her second cousin's daughter, Drusilla. I think she's even dragged the poor bloke who delivers her groceries over here on some pretext or another."

In her enthusiasm to share a bit of humor about her neighbor, Hermione managed to completely overlook Severus' slip of the tongue.

She squeezed the arm he had offered and tilted her head to lean against it for a tiny moment, then straightened up.

"Janus Thickey as in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's? I know I've read something about him before, what was it? Oh, I'm sure it will come to me, probably during the play."

-~8~-

The conversation en route to The Ivy, in Severus' opinion, was quite entertaining as he attempted to discover exactly what was wrong with each of the prospective beaus Mrs Carmichael had brought round for Hermione's inspection. One other name she'd mentioned had him asking, "Who is Aunt Imogene?" as he held open the door of the restaurant and waited for her to enter.

-~8~-

"Aunt Imogene is my father's sister, blissfully married to 'the perfect man' for nearly three whole years. I always get shushed when I bring up her prior husband, who must have been 'the nearly perfect man', or the first husband who I like to call 'the almost but not quite perfect man.'"

The interior of The Ivy took Hermione's breath away. The walls and ceiling were nearly covered in long, ropey vines of some sort of ivy. The vines seemed to pulse and sway ever so gently, moving to some rhythm only the ivy could recognize. Flowers bloomed, then closed tight moments later.

The rest of the decor was lovely and tasteful, but it was immediately obvious that the star feature of the establishment was the plant-life. As they stood, waiting to be seated, Hermione saw two plates emerge from the kitchen, carefully passed along the ceiling by finger-like tendrils of ivy, before being deposed on an occupied table near the center of the room.

She was just about to ask Severus if he'd eaten there before when the host approached the podium they were standing near and asked if they had a reservation. Dressed in light green dress robes that made his skin take on a sickly hue, Hermione couldn't help but think he looked awfully familiar.

Her eyes widened in horror, and she ducked behind the relative safety of Severus. "It's Cormac; hide me!" she gasped as quietly as possible, irrationally contemplating an attempt to burrow her way into the concealment of Severus' voluminous cloak and robes.

-~8~-

Severus had been studying the huge plant that dominated the room, attempting to determine its parentage before moving within its range, when Hermione hissed and dove behind him. Having no idea who Cormac was – and sure that nothing short of an escaped Death Eater would have elicited such a response from the level-headed Hermione – Severus tensed, and his wand slid out of his sleeve. He glared at the approaching man, but didn't see anything about him that appeared threatening other than his size, which was considerable.

"Good evening. Do you have a reservation?" the man asked as he stopped behind the podium. He opened a book on its surface before running a finger down a list, all without glancing at the people waiting. His eyes widened before his head jerked up to finally meet Severus' glare.

"Snape – you're Snape – of course you are. Party of six for two? I mean – party of two for six?" he asked nervously. "Will your other party be along shortly?"

Is he blind as well as stupid?

"No," Severus replied while grabbing Hermione's arm with his free hand and pulling her back beside him. "My party is here now."

-~8~-

Her foot itched to connect with Severus' shin, but Hermione settled for using the arm not currently being held captive to smack him in the arm. Hard.

Aware that her aborted disappearing act might have drawn more attention to her presence than she wanted, Hermione immediately called forth the most vacant and un-Hermione-like smile she'd ever managed and cast it in Cormac McLaggen's general direction. If luck – any luck at all, even the teeniest tiniest glimmer – was with her, the overgrown heathen would continue to concentrate on Severus and just ignore her completely.

Her eyes strayed toward Cormac's lips, and she shuddered with revulsion at the memory of Professor Slughorn's Christmas party her sixth year, when Cormac had pressed his open mouth against her tightly closed lips and proceeded to drool and slobber until she'd had to pull her way free. She'd proceeded to spend the rest of the party – no, the rest of the year – avoiding him and his fish lips, just in case he got the idiotic idea to try for a repeat performance.

Surely that's all in the past now? He's probably forgotten me entirely. Please, for the love of all that is good in the world, don't let him recognize me.

-~8~-

Severus turned his head to glare at his companion, wondering all the while what in Merlin's name he'd done to warrant an attack on his person. He missed the delighted expression that flew across Cormac's face, but it would have been impossible not to understand the glee in the other man's voice when he said, "Hermione? It is you, isn't it? I knew your reply to my owls must have gotten lost or you wouldn't have known where to find me."

Severus expected the lout to start jumping up and down in joy at any moment and, in an attempt to forestall that moment, commented dryly, "I made the reservation, not Miss Granger. Are you at all capable of doing what your employers actually pay you for, or should we attempt to find our own table?"

The fact that his arm went around Hermione's shoulder had nothing at all to do with the other man and everything to do with the fact Severus thought he'd detected a trait belonging to Devil's Snare in the giant plant dominating the room. At least that's what he told himself.

-~8~-

Crap. Crap crap crappity crap.

Her unease at being put on the spot, coupled with the way her mind raced to try to come up with a polite excuse for why she had never answered any of his owls, made her jump slightly when a weight settled on her shoulder.

The moment she realized it was Severus, Hermione thanked the heavens and shifted to lean against his side. Surely even Cormac could hear Severus' words, see how close they were, and put two and two together.

When he did nothing more to acknowledge Severus than give him a brisk nod before turning his eager attention back to Hermione, she knew that somehow – impossibly – Cormac must have grown even more clueless since he left Hogwarts.

"I was in George's shop the other day, and he let slip that he still talks to you from time to time, which is nice, considering the way you and Ron split. He said you used to be a lot of fun to hang out with, but lately you're far too busy with work. You know what they say, all work and no play." He flashed her what he probably thought was a killer smile.

Hermione made a mental note to kill George Weasley.

"I'm – uh," was as far as she got before he started speaking again.

"Maybe you and I could get together sometime, take a break from the work day drudge, catch up on old times?"

-~8~-

Severus wasn't used to being ignored, especially by a wizard intent on chatting up his date for the evening. If McLaggen had been paying proper attention, he would have ceased his prattle when Severus' right eyebrow rose. The wand in Snape's hand cast a silent, but effective, Langlock. The astonishment reflected in the other man's eyes caused a small smirk to lift the corner of Severus' mouth, and the attempt by McLaggen to release his tongue by using his fingers drew a small snort.

"Unless you want to literally rip your tongue in two," Severus advised with a small snarl, "I'd desist. If – by the end of our visit within this establishment – you have ceased being an utter bore and a buffoon who apparently doesn't know when his attentions are not welcome, I'll release you."

When McLaggen eyes promised murder and the man stepped closer, Severus raised his wand in warning.

"If you care to continue our discussion, we should probably step outside as I'm sure your employers wouldn't care for the mess my next move would leave on their floor."

McLaggen stopped, looked mutely at Hermione, and apparently tried to use his eyes to ask for some help.

-~8~-

Her answering expression very clearly said, "Don't look at me." Then she thought about how the evening would most likely end if the two did go outside. She rather preferred a nice play to spending the night trying to convince a couple of Hit Wizards to not take Severus into custody for hexing the living snot out of Cormac.

She could try suggesting they go somewhere else, but since running away and hiding from this particular Cormac-sized problem obviously wasn't the correct tactic to take, she felt they should stand their ground.

With a sigh, Hermione stepped between the two wizards, facing Severus and his wand. "There's an empty table over near the wall. Unless it's reserved?" She turned her head to see Cormac narrow his eyes, then grudgingly shake his head. "Wonderful. Severus and I will go ahead and seat ourselves and let you get back to work, Cormac."

She turned back to Severus. "Please?" she whispered – for his ears only.

-~8~-

Irritation at the dolt who had tried to spoil their first real outing had made Severus' mouth pinch together, and the words that trembled on the tip of his tongue at Hermione's interference were guaranteed to quash her efforts to salvage the night. The soft Please that reached his ears made him look into her eyes instead of at the stupid wizard he'd been prepared to duel. His mouth gradually relaxed, and while he was severely tempted to leave the hex in place until they left, he growled, "Very well," before removing it.

Cormac, apparently not willing to turn his back on Snape, backed away and returned to the room behind the podium. Just before he disappeared, he said, "I'll send you an owl tomorrow, Hermione."

"He's a bloody imbecile!" Severus advised heatedly and took one step forward to follow the twit into the back room. He stopped when he realized it would be inadvisable to follow a cornered rat into its nest.

You never know what little traps they've laid.

Turning back to Hermione, he slid one arm around her waist before propelling them in the direction of the table Cormac had indicated would be acceptable.

"I think not," he muttered almost to himself as he changed direction and found one on the opposite side of the room.

"Tell me," he asked with a smirk as he seated Hermione and then sat down opposite her, "is that what they call hen-pecking? If so, I shall have to revise my opinion of Arthur Weasley."

-~8~-

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Are you comparing me to Molly Weasley?" she teased.

-~8~-

"Hardly," he commented dryly. "Although," Severus added as his eyes narrowed slightly, "I do see some similarities."

He picked up the menu in front of him, opened it, and silently read the list. "I fail to see what the fuss about this place is, other than the plant, of course, which might be a variant of Devil's Snare. There's nothing listed here that..."

He stopped speaking as a leaf-green Quick-Quotes Quill zipped to their table and hovered over the small piece of parchment at the edge of their table.

"Good gods," he exclaimed while meeting Hermione's eyes. "I sincerely hope that dunderhead isn't the only staff person on duty."

-~8~-

The urge to kick him returned with the comment about seeing similarities, but she restrained herself. Again.

To distract herself, Hermione looked up to examine the ivy. Severus might be right; it did look a bit like Devil's Snare. She eyed one of the lower tendrils suspiciously.

"As mobile as the ivy appears to be, I doubt it can cook, Severus."

Since the plant didn't appear to be doing anything hazardous, Hermione turned her attention to the menu in front of her. "Some people appreciate ambiance over fancy dishes and unpronounceable entrees. I would wager that Professor Sprout would be tickled pink to dine here."

She glared at him with narrowed eyes over the top of her menu. "What similarities?"

-~8~-

"You're both female, both witches with a great deal of talent, and both of you tend to try and take care of those you love, warranted or not," Severus replied with a sly smile before turning his attention back to the menu. "Now, what shall we dine upon, my lovely siren? Protocol demands that I order for you; however, since we both know you're quite capable of choosing what you want to consume and I've never been fond of the practice – ladies first, as they say."

-~8~-

Listening to his list brought a smile to her lips, and her glare completely melted away. The things he mentioned were some of the very things she liked and respected the most about the Weasley matriarch.

In a better mood, Hermione turned her attention to the menu. She frowned slightly, scanned the options again, then looked up to ask Severus, "Have you noticed there are no salads offered?"

In the back of her mind, she registered a strange rustling sound from above, but didn't think much of it.

"No salads, and there doesn't appear to be a vegetable option for any of the meals, either."

Again, the strange rustle, only this time it was far more pronounced. Almost... agitated.

Hermione glanced up at the ivy. Were some of the tendrils getting closer?

"Salad?" This time she saw the way the plant shuddered and twitched. She carefully closed her menu and set it on the table. "Right then, I'll have the steak."

-~8~-

Lack of a salad had never bothered Severus, but the reactions of the plant... were quite interesting. If he'd been there alone, he might have mentioned other leafy greens to see exactly what it would have done. As it was, he'd watched as the Quick-Quotes Quill had taken Hermione's order, and it appeared to have written far more than just steak.

"I'll have the steak as well, medium rare," he advised while keeping an eye on the quill, "with a side of stuffed mushrooms and rice." When it continued to write far beyond what he'd considered appropriate, he grabbed the parchment. The quill rose in the air – turned left, and then right – before it hovered in place, not quite sure what to do.

One eyebrow rose as he read aloud, "The nice young lady in the coral dress with the soft looking sweater draped so delicately over her shoulders has ordered the delicious, flame broiled steak. No sides have tickled her fancy as of yet, but she'll surely want something spectacular for dessert.

"The grouchy, black-garbed man accompanying this fair lass has ordered the same delicious, flame broiled steak, however, prepared only half-cooked. The fresh wild mushrooms stuffed with delectable cheese and served on a bed of fresh rice will accompany this poor, undercooked steak. It's unlikely he'll want something sweet for desert."

Raising his eyes to meet Hermione's, he chuckled slightly before putting the parchment back for the agitated quill, which swooped down and soon found its place.

"Would the fair lass like something to accompany her delicious, flame broiled steak before our waiter whisks the order away?" Severus asked with a smirk.

-~8~-

"Verbose little thing, isn't it?" Personally, Hermione found the quill oddly charming. Not that she was going to share that little detail with Severus.

"If it's not too much trouble, I would like to add the stuffed mushrooms and rice to my order, as well. They sounded rather good."

Once they were finished ordering, the parchment, quill and menus all disappeared from the table, leaving Hermione and Severus alone.

There was silence for a moment as Hermione worked up a bit of nerve. "How is the antidote coming along; any more progress?"

-~8~-

Reaching across the table, Severus picked up her hand and said quite softly, "Tonight, there is no antidote. There is only you, me, a wonderful dinner punctuated by brilliant conversation, followed by a delightful play, and a stroll after to savor it all."

Squeezing her hand gently before releasing it, Severus took a sip of water and asked, "Will that meet with the lady's approval, and if so – what brilliant work of literature have you recently read and why would I hate it?"

-~8~-

Part of her, a very small part, wanted to protest. The rest of her found the idea of having the sort of evening he described to be delightful.

"The lady approves." She gave him a warm smile and almost reached out to take his hand again, craving a repeat of the earlier contact.

"I was recently revisiting an old favorite, New Theory of Numerology. Are you familiar with it?"

**********