A Very Merry Unbirthday To You

A/N: Thank you to my muses, Polly-O Cheese Sticks, and to those lovely readers out there who are still reading (even though I'm a terrible updater and I have food products as inspiration). Oh, and a big hug to ladyinthecloak, who ploughs through my grammatical/canon blunders without complaint.

On with the show!

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Very Merry Unbirthday to You

-~*~-

The first of March arrived more quickly than anyone in the castle had anticipated, and with it a bit of snow melt and beautiful white light. Severus easily noticed the change in mood of the 'dunderheads,' as there was a significant increase in missed homework assignments and a corresponding decrease in pranks in the hallways. Potions essays were the same as ever, though, dull and fluffy (reeking of laziness and un-inspiration, more like), and Severus was beginning to wonder why he even bothered.

Well, he'd have to bother for another three years, at the request of Minerva.

Today had seemed relatively uneventful, disregarding the odd incident with melted cauldrons and one rather disturbing incident that involved quills and eyeballs. However, everything else seemed pretty... normal. Well, it was really quite strange, actually, not having a war going on and all. But it was nice that the only problems in the castle involved teenaged drama and Peeves. Eurgh. Peeves. He wouldn't be able to get that stupid song out of his head for at least the whole month... Then of course the pesky poltergeist would be at it again with "RABBIT, RABBIT, RABBIT! IT IS THE FIRST OF THE MONTH: HAVE AT IT, AT IT, AT IT!!!!" And Filch was no help. He still seemed to think there were spritzings of mistletoe about whenever the Potions master was around. Which usually set the poor professor running. That wasn't unusual. Though, Severus had never expected Argus to be... homosexual. He liked... cats... didn't he? Fuck, this was Albus' fault. Yes, he may be six feet under (or laughing from above), but he'd started the stupid tradition of mistletoe several years ago. Fuck all.

Severus shed his robes as he entered his living room from the classroom, toeing his shoes off and slumping down into the sofa for a bit of a nap. And, of course, the door would now announce a visitor since he'd finally gotten comfortable.

"Coming!" he growled and sat up on the couch, rubbing his temples and then pulling his hair back into a queue. It was getting long.

He wrenched the door open to find Malfoy on the other side. "Mister Malfoy, to what do I have the pleasure of seeing you after my teaching hours are over?" Of course, it was not pleasure but more of an annoyance, but most people took it the same way anyway, so Severus asked his brain to please stop running internal dialogues. At least not with company present.

"Afternoon, Professor. I wasn't able to catch you at the end of class earlier, but Hermione and I have finished the efficiency calculations for the hinkypunk entrails."

Severus couldn't help but wonder why it was Malfoy who stood in front of him instead of Granger. Was she still angry with him? He was brewing her health potions, for Merlin's sake! Besides, you should be mad at her for that wanton display in the middle of Hogsmeade in front of a bunch of teething thirteen-year-olds (ahem, yourself)! He mentally ignored the fact that he'd had to storm back to the castle for a quick and desperate wank before coming back to escort the little buggers to school. "Well, let me have it, then." Severus held his hand out, hiding a bit of a blush, and the young man handed him the parchment. He took enjoyment from tearing it from his grasp, especially when the kid jumped (subtly, but it was still there).

"We were thinking of continuing this afternoon so we could start the second trial tomorrow, but we need your approval beforehand. Obviously." Severus read the calculations through twice.

This is brilliant. "You're thinking of using goat milk instead of tebo milk?" He started murmuring to himself and running scenarios in his head. "Well, that's surprising, but it looks like it should work. This is really quite innovative, Mister Malfoy. You did all this?"

Malfoy's eyes lit up when he started speaking about his working partner. "Well, it was actually Hermione's idea, because we had to think of something that wouldn't magically inhibit the effectiveness of the entrails I'd added to the equation. Goats are non-magical, so it made perfect sense to me. And there are more nutrients...we need the magnesium without the mucous-producing qualities that cow's milk would have. Goat milk allows for those with type A blood to drink safely without negative side effects*. Indigestion, nausea... measles."

Severus hummed appreciatively. Even though he couldn't stand the idea of them working together unsupervised, there was nothing like potions innovations to get the professor excited. He suddenly liked the idea of allowing his two best students to extend their month-long project. They seemed to be coming up with curiously original results.

"I did do the equation, though. Hermione's left that to me." Malfoy beamed, as if it was the epitome of happiness to be told what to do by the professor's estranged know-it-all.

To be honest he'd probably smile goofily, too, if Hermione paid him attention again. He didn't have time to contemplate what kind of attentions he might like her to pay him before Malfoy interrupted his thoughts.

"So, do we have your permission to continue? Is it brilliant enough?" The younger man smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Just continue with your theoretical applications, Mister Malfoy. No experimenting without my supervision. Run through the hypothetical instructions should you add the entrails and goat's milk. I'll send you word when I am available."

"Thanks, Professor." And then he backed away, almost skipping up the corridor towards the shortcut to the library.

This was his fault.

Well, at least they're not dating, yet. Though, Malfoy does look positively blissful. I wonder if she can tell... Probably, she's clever enough, and he's completely lost his Slytherin subtlety.

He tried not telling himself again that this was his damned fault and decided to take a shower. He was still a bit oily from classes. Looming over cauldrons all day did take a toll on one's hair.

Maybe he'd have a wank, too.

Hmm.

--

"I think I'm having my birthday early this year." Draco flopped down into his seat next to her as she pored over a new edition of Sweet Dreams: Gustatory Additives to Sleeping Draughts, leaning against the table and sitting backwards in his chair. Hermione ignored him until he had something intelligible to say. "At least, it feels like it," he added in a self-satisfied sigh.

All right, well, she couldn't pretend to be uninterested for that long. Considering the mood he was in. "Okay, what did he say?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to stop theorizing becausehe'sgivenuspermissiontodotheexperiment!" he hissed rather loudly, his excitement completely upsetting the holier-than-thou façade he usually kept as the 'consummate Slytherin.'

Hermione gave a rather undignified squeal, which startled a third-year study session over near the Charms section and resulted in a nasty look from Madam Pince, who was scowling at them over a self-help book at the counter. "Oh, shit..." She immediately hissed back, "Oh, thisissoexcitingIcan'twait!" She flung her arms around his neck and could feel him sniggering silently as she squeezed him tightly. When she finally realized what she was doing, she pushed him firmly against the table, feeling a little disconcerted when something flickered behind his eyes. Hermione let go of his shoulders as if she'd been burnt and shoved them into her lap, clasping them together even though her legs bounced with her enthusiasm.

Draco shook his head a little bit, still smiling but looking a little dazed and then became quite serious again as he relayed one important thing. "There is one requirement, though."

"Let's hear it then." Her legs still refused to stay put.

"He'll have to supervise."

Hermione froze and then slowly sank down onto the desk, her forehead making a soft thunk as it landed, and she groaned.

Draco snorted. "Well, I understand why I'd not want Snape there, but what's got you all suicidal?"

Hermione turned to him, pouting, and then sighed. She put her head in her hands. How can I explain how unbearably difficult it's been to concentrate around him? Draco poked her gently. "Oh... it's nothing. It's just... we have... a bit of... er...history."

Draco laughed out loud, encouraging another shush from the librarian. "You sound as if you two used to date and it ended badly."

Not too far from the truth...

"What?" His voice lowered conspiratorially, almost purring. "Have you been shagging my Head of House, Granger?"

"What!? No!" Only in my dreams, really.

"Be quiet!" came Pince's reply. Hermione smiled contritely at the poor woman and turned back to Draco, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

"That wasn't very convincing," he said.

"Honestly, Draco, what kind of person do you think I am?"

He seemed to realize whom he was talking to and blushed, shrugging apologetically. "You just reacted a bit funny."

"It's just... we've had some arguments, is all."

He snorted. "Who hasn't?"

"Why don't you want him there? You two get along like... like peas and carrots."

"Vegetables don't have personalities, Hermione." He grinned widely when she punched him in the shoulder. "No, it's just that I won't be able to flirt shamelessly with you. Bats of the dungeons tend to hinder that just a bit."

She didn't have time to not respond or even blush at his blatant confession because someone had come up to stand awkwardly in front of their study spot, wringing their hands as they waited for Hermione and Draco's eye contact to break. "Erm, Hermione?"

Hermione blinked and turned toward the girl's voice, finding a pretty face to match the sound. This girl, Hufflepuff from her prefect's badge, had a square jaw and freckles but big, almost turquoise eyes and straight, sandy blonde hair that framed her face rather nicely, falling to her shoulders in a small wave. Hermione recognized her vaguely, but had never spoken to her before. "Uhm, hi there."

The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment then leaned over the table, extending her right hand. "I'm Tommi Vance. I'm a seventh-year Hufflepuff and I'm Ron's girlfriend."

Oh. "Well, I suppose you know who I am," Hermione said a little edgily and felt a reassuring hand at the small of her back as she stood and shook the girl's hand. "What can I do for you?"

"Well..." Vance glanced at Draco for a moment, then back to Hermione. "I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment. Alone?"

Hermione gave a sidelong look at Draco who nodded and pulled Sweet Dreams to his side of the table, proceeding to be suitably engrossed in it as Vance led her away to the hallway. There was a bright alcove with stone benches in it that the Hufflepuff had apparently scoped out already because she grabbed Hermione's hand and nearly dragged her there, setting her down on the nearest bench and then seating herself a respectful distance near and away from the Head Girl. Hermione fiddled with the cuff of her shirt as Tommi took a breath and began.

"Okay. I know this is weird and unexpected and probably encroaching on precious study time..." Vance saw Hermione's expression and smiled, which of course really didn't bother Hermione at all. "But, I just wanted to start off saying that it really is nice to meet you. I've heard so many good things from Ron...I know that's really surprising, believe me...and from our eighth-years."

"That is surprising," Hermione muttered.

Vance smiled again and rubbed her hands together (her nails were chewed back), but she had a sort of poise about her when she talked, so Hermione (good girl that she was) listened dutifully. "Anyway, increasingly over the past two months I've been hearing Ron moan and groan about how he doesn't have friends in Gryffindor anymore...I always ask him why that might be..." They both shared a smirk. "But, of course he grumbles about things ending badly and irreparable blah-dee-blah. I think you know where I'm heading."

"I didn't know 'irreparable' was a part of Ronald's vocabulary," Hermione interrupted, but it didn't get the sort of reaction she was expecting.

Vance instead gave a little laugh and nodded. "No, probably not, but I agreed I'd give him a good intro and a good word and he could go on with the requests for forgiveness from there. Considering those words aren't in his vocabulary he's been writing and rewriting apologies for a month now, trying to get it out that he's sorry for what he did."

Hermione stood, looking down at a surprisingly calm Tommi. "And he thinks that will solve everything? There, I said 'I'm sorry,' now we can be besties again?" Hermione began to pace.

"No. That's why he's had such trouble, you see. He's well aware that he's very likely past forgiveness."

"...You're pretty level-headed for Ron," Hermione finally said, resting her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

She chuckled and stood with Hermione, walking up to her and giving her a big hug. "You and Ron and Harry were too good of friends to go throughout life never speaking again. He's just come to realize that."

Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"Hermione, he wants to make amends. Now, that doesn't mean you have to forgive him, especially if he mucks it up, but just hear him out."

For a moment Hermione didn't breathe, but then gave up on this silly, defensive pretense and her shoulders sank. "Alright. What should I do?"

"Oh, you don't have to do anything."

"Pardon?"

"Ron, you can come out, now," Tommi called down the hallway.

Hermione whirled around to see a figure emerge from the boys' bathroom and quickly but sheepishly make its way toward them, a towering, broad-shouldered figure whose ginger head hung low and his hands fiddled restlessly with the cuffs of his sleeves. He'd probably learned that from Hermione. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't keep a small smile off her face.

"Hullo, Hermione."

"Hi," she said quietly.

He took a big breath, his eyes bright and his brow furrowed. "Hermione... I can't begin to tell you how much of an arse I've been...I mean, you probably know, anyway... I should never have said the things I said to you back in September. I know I can't just take them back, but... I wanted to tell you that I didn't mean them then, and I still don't believe them now. I overreacted." Tommi snorted quietly from a little distance away. "You have been nothing but a good friend to me for so long and... I completely fucked up. Really." He laughed nervously, and Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

Oh, this was getting melodramatic.

"I hope... erm...I hope in time... that you'll be able to forgive me. I mean..." He seemed to struggle with his words. "Oh, fuck," he muttered. "I'll probably have to spend a good several years earning my best friend back." He glanced at Tommi, then. "Or however long Miss Vance over here deems it necessary."

"How about the rest of your life, Ron?" Hermione spoke determinedly, but with a smirk worthy of a Slytherin (although the tears probably could have been scrapped). He seemed taken aback, but when Hermione opened her arms to him, he nearly fell into them, fairly squeezing all the oxygen out of her. "Guh, Ron...can't..."

"Sorry." He eased up a bit but wrapped his arms around her shoulders instead. "I'm so sorry, luv. So sorry..."

"It's okay, Ron," Hermione sniffled.

"Everything I said... everything was complete bullocks, 'Mione. You're a bloody angel, and you're going to change the world, and you definitely need a bloke who can keep up with you," he laughed into her hair. "I'm a little too simple for that," he sniggered eventually. "You're going to make some man very happy, someday...forgive the cliché." She sobbed into his chest and squeezed him round the middle, and they stood there, rocking back and forth for a while until he started laughing. "You need to stop crying, or else I'm going to start snotting all over your hair, too!"

They both laughed and Ron pulled Tommi over, and Hermione hugged her, too. "It's nice to meet you, too, Tommi. You've got a lot on your hands, though, with this bloke."

"Uhm, Hermione..."

Hermione spun around to see a restless Draco, who had his books packed up and was now staring suspiciously at Ron. "Hey, Draco. I'm sorry, have you packed up already? I didn't mean to neglect you."

"It's alright. I know it was important..." He still stared piercingly at Ron, who hadn't really noticed because he was making puppy eyes at Tommi. "Besides, Ginevra was looking for you...said it was 'super important,' so..."

"Oh! Shite," Ron exclaimed.

"What?" both Tommi and Hermione asked.

"We have fittings, today," Ron gestured between himself and Hermione.

"We? For what?"

"Harry and Ginny's wedding. Didn't they tell you?"

"Uhm. Yes, and it's not 'til summer holiday."

"No, Mum moved the wedding to the beginning of May. She's had nothing to do but plan this wedding since the kids aren't at home anymore, and she wanted to save up summer for their honeymoon. And all our relatives will like May weather more than August, which was apparently the next available option."

"But..." Oh, I am bloody confused.

"So fittings are today. We are supposed to meet George and Mum at Twilfit and Tattings before dinner. McGonagall's given us special permission."

"They... failed to tell me that," Hermione said, a little dazed.

"Yes, well... Now you know."

"... Okay."

"Yeah," he sighed. "And on my birthday, though I'm sure this was some sort of punishment for being another Percy. I've been such a prat to my whole family."

"Oh! I forgot it was March, already... Happy Birthday, Ron." Hermione hugged him again, although this felt very odd and slightly insufficient. Ron said goodbye to Tommi, who waved them off and started off toward the kitchens, and Hermione and he turned to run to Gryffindor Tower, only to find a wand pointed at Ron's jugular.

"I swear, Weasel, if you hurt her again, you won't have another birthday."

"Draco..." Hermione admonished. Ron just squeezed her hand.

"Understand?" Draco hissed, punctuating his venomous statement with a jerk of his wand.

"Completely," Ron said solemnly.

The Slytherin backed away slowly, glaring at Ron. "I'll see you later, Hermione. Have fun at your fitting," Draco said stiffly, and walked away.

They gathered her things in the library and then took a shortcut to Gryffindor Tower. As Ron helped Hermione through the portrait hole, she heard him mutter, "I think I liked it better when you fancied Snape."

Hermione was too shocked for words.

--

Severus whistled under his breath as he lathered and rinsed his hair clean. He'd always loved his shampoo and conditioner. They smelled...Severus inhaled...lovely. And despite the fact that he was a very strapping, manly man, he did like to smell nice. The sage and lime soothed his headache and calmed his nerves, sending him into a happy daze as he stood under the overlarge showerhead. Of course, it helped that every now and then he had flashes of his past 'Bottled Bliss Incident,' as he'd mentally termed it. As he passed a sudsy flannel over his chest and abdomen, Hermione's eyes flashed warm and bright in his mind's eye, and he could almost feel her nails scratch down his back as she came undone in his arms.

"Christ."

He took care of...ahem...his business quickly and thoroughly, but not before he glimpsed a bit of Hermione in a flowing white gown as he came, leaning a hand against the warm tiles. That threw him for a loop. She'd never worn a white dress in his dreams.

"Hum," he grumbled confusedly as he stepped into the steamy room and donned his towel. That was odd. But it was still a marvelous wank, so he couldn't complain too much. He'd quickly given up the fight for propriety after several nights in a row of erotic Hermione dreams. After all, she'd never know, and he was only fucking her senseless in his mind, so no one could give him any grief. These dreams beat the nightmares, anyway.

When he was dressed in his button-down and slacks and ready for dinner, he was bombarded by two large owls carrying letters. One was familiar and white with wide yellow eyes and carried a small card with his name in loopy blue, embossed calligraphy, and another was an owl from the continent. The ones that picked up Muggle mail meant to be sent to a wizard. His Grandmère had written.

--

Hermione was prodded and tugged at for the rest of the afternoon, pins snagging the fabric of an apparently 'stunning' (according to Gin) and 'really nice' (according to Ron, Harry and George) sage green dress, but Hermione barely heard any of it.

Ron knew.

For God's sake, Ron was about as observant as a pile of dung but this hadn't passed his notice?

"You look like a frylle," a dreamy voice said over on her right. Hermione focused on the image in front of her, she wore a silk taffeta dress that crisscrossed at the neckline and fell to the knees**. The green went well with the amber tones in her eyes.

"What eez a 'freell,' Luna?" Fleur asked on the other side of Luna, posing in the mirror as the tailor magically cut her dress to fall to her knee. Hers was in a lovely muted sky blue that the tailor insisted was 'brook'-coloured.

"Oh, they live in the trees, usually. Frylles are made of dappled light. You can tell they're with you when a breeze comes by on a sunny day. Daddy called them 'walking comforts.' They make people happy, usually. Unless you don't like wind... Or sun. Or nature."

Hermione blushed, even though no one was quite sure what Luna was talking about. Fleur snorted, but smiled at Hermione even so. "You do look magnifique, 'Ermione."

Luna fingered her lavender dress as she looked over at Hermione again. "Your Slytherin will like you very much, I think."

Hermione froze. Luna can't mean Snape, can she?

"Oh, and who might that be?" Harry asked.

"Ginny, can I change, now?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Luna's talking about Malfoy, of course," Ron supplied, apparently seeing Hermione's panic. Luna just smiled airily and smoothed the dress over her hips.

Harry pursed his lips, but Ginny squeezed his hand. "Yes, doll, you can go use my changing room," Ginny said. "And you can ask Draco along as your date, too, if you want."

"We're not dating."

"Well, it certainly seemed like it...seeing as you two were attached at the hip on Valentine's," Harry said edgily.

"We've become good friends. Nothing's going to happen."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," George said lightly from the men's side of the large, carpeted room. He was straitening his narrow 'brook' tie in front of the mirror as he spoke. "I've never met a Slytherin who didn't have an agenda."

"Well, if we go together, it's just as friends."

"I think he likes you, Hermione," Neville added in his lavender tie. "I've never seen him be so... nice. Not even to his Slytherin friends."

"I'm not having this conversation." Hermione stormed off in a pouting.

"Ohhh, Hermione, stop being a Pouty McPoutface!" Ron said. "We don't have a problem with your friendship with...er... Draco. Do we, Harry?" Hermione heard his voice take on a little edge.

"It's fine, Hermione," she heard Harry finally sigh. "If you can trust him, then I have to believe he's turned out okay."

You should, she thought a little bitterly as she yanked off the pretty green dress. You got him out of jail, after all. No use crying over spilled milk.

--

As Severus sat down to his evening meal, agitated and worried and without an appetite, he knew two new things. One: he was invited...who'd have thought...to Harry Potter's wedding, and two: Grandmère was dying, and quickly.

La leucémie***, they called it.

A/N: I hope you liked it! It was sort of a mind dump, and I had to have a lot happen, but it's long so I suppose it'll make you faithful readers pretty happy.