Chapter 47

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either...just for fun. Once again, what events that are not mentioned that happen in the books is as it happened in the books.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia and FrankQ for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

There are some deviations to canon in this chapter: Ron is seeing Padma, the fight between Ginny and Dean will happen in a different time than in the books, and Aragog dies in this chapter after the Apparition exam. (Do I have to give you a character death warning for him?) Likewise, Harry is seeing Romilda presently, before his interest will turn to Ginny. But other than that, the events that are not mentioned in this story, especially pertaining to Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy and Professor Slughorn, that happen in the books remain as they happened in the books, at least the parts from Harry's perspective.

---

Hermione left the common room for her nightly swim. Ron had promised to come and get her, or bring Harry with him to the prefect bath, if Harry returned while she was in the pool. For that reason, she'd transfigured a tank top and knickers into more conservative swim attire. As she approached the bath suite, lost in thought about Harry's emotional state, she was startled out of her reverie by a noise ahead. She looked up and thought that she saw Draco turning the corner ahead of her. When she rounded the bend however, he was nowhere in sight. Instead, a lanky second-year Slytherin boy was sitting against the wall under the tapestry of the dancing trolls, idly playing with a set of scales. She frowned, trying to remember if she'd seen the boy in that area of the castle before, and wondering why a second-year Slytherin boy would be hanging around here near the corridor to the Gryffindor common room.

"Are you all right?" she asked, still trying to puzzle out why the boy was just sitting there.

She was surprised when he looked up at her with a hostile glare. "Yes," he said rather waspishly.

"Where's your friend?" she asked, wondering if she'd been mistaken that the other boy she'd seen walking around the corner moments before was Malfoy. Her gaze swept the corridor, certain she'd seen him.

"There isn't anyone else here, you daft cow," he snapped.

"I thought I saw Malfoy?" she asked as she scanned the corridor in both directions, certain that she wasn't mistaken...she had seen another boy. If it hadn't been Malfoy, it had been another platinum-haired boy.

"No, what would he be doing here?" the boy said contemptuously.

She looked down at the boy again, considering him just another Slytherin with a puffed up, arrogant sense of superiority. "Mind your attitude, I'm only asking...I am a Gryffindor Prefect, and your presence here is rather suspicious."

"I'm not doing anything," he grumbled, crossing his arms defiantly.

Technically he wasn't doing anything wrong; even though the boy was alone, he wasn't breaking curfew, and although she could deduct House points for his rudeness, she had become used to such contempt from some of the Slytherins. Although why he was here was a mystery, unless he too knew about the Room of Requirement and had tried to get in only to find it stubbornly unresponsive. "You'd best not be caught up here by Filch," she said, forcing herself to maintain a calm friendly tone to avoid a scene. "It's only twenty minutes until your curfew."

"Not that it matters to you, but I am fine. Now, go away," he said and went back to playing with his scales.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked away. She spotted Filch on the fifth floor mopping something up and waved at him. The old caretaker grunted something in return and resumed his cleaning.

She entered the bath, turned on her favorite taps, then pulled off her school robe, jumper and jeans and dove into the water at the deep end as soon as the tub was almost full. She swam to the side, turned off the taps, and began her laps.

Normally swimming was relaxing for her, but tonight she was on edge. It had been quite a week so far and it was only Thursday! She couldn't help mulling over everything as she did her laps. Harry had received a note from Hagrid on Tuesday, telling him that Aragog had died, the same day that Katie returned to Hogwarts. Harry had been elated to see Katie, and even more so because Madam Pomfrey had declared her fit to play Quidditch again. Dean was disappointed of course, but Harry had assured him he wanted Dean to continue to practice with the team, as a back up just in case, which for some reason hadn't pleased Ginny very much. Harry had made two more unsuccessful attempts to talk Professor Slughorn into giving him the real memory, but each time Professor Slughorn managed to give Harry the slip.

She did a flip turn, pushed off the wall, came up and continued her freestyle stroke.

But instead of trying to see Professor Slughorn...he was breaking the rules to go console Hagrid! Hermione and Ron could hardly believe that Hagrid had expected them to 'nip down for the burial... around dusk' because that was the monstrous spider's favorite time of day. At the time, Harry had agreed with her...it was too risky to go. But thanks to the insane influence of a mouthful of his Felix Felicis, that was precisely what Harry was doing...going to pay his respects to a monster that had tried to eat him. It made no sense. She'd read about Felix Felicis, and from what she'd learned, it was supposed to help you achieve anything you set your mind to doing. Harry had been set on retrieving the memory for Dumbledore when he took the potion. So what bloody well happened?

Hermione did another flip turn, kicked off from the wall and resumed her swimming.

When Harry had pulled on his Invisibility Cloak after declaring his intent to go see Hagrid and ran down the stairs, Hermione and Ron had followed him, hoping to get him to see reason. He needed the memory...not to go off like a fool and get himself in trouble for going to the funeral of an Acromantula! However, Lavender didn't know about the cloak, all she saw were Ron and Hermione coming out of the boy's dorms together. Hermione supposed it looked bad, and Lavender had always been jealous of her and Ron's friendship, but this had been the last straw for the girl, especially since she'd never forgiven Ron for calling out Hermione's name in the hospital. Lavender broke it off with Ron, in the common room in front of everyone.

On the plus side, though, Ron was now free to pursue Padma.

A body length away from the wall, she did a quick flip and a twist at the wall and pushed off, this time opting to do the backstroke.

The candlelight reflected on the marble reminded her of Malfoy's blond hair. She was absolutely certain that she'd seen Malfoy in the seventh floor corridor, regardless of what the rude little boy had said. It was possible she'd been mistaken, but she doubted it. It is possible that Malfoy entered the Room of Requirement, he certainly knows about the room, but if that was the case, then why is the Slytherin boy waiting outside the entrance? Unless the boy had tried to get in the room and it wouldn't open up for him. Harry had described a room where people had left things through the years, a virtual warehouse of discarded things. It is possible that the boy had wanted in the room and was simply waiting to see if it would open up again. But how did he know about the Room of Requirement?

Hermione stopped before her hand hit the edge of the pool, and turned, kicking off in the other direction.

Still, she was certain that she had seen Malfoy, there was no mistaking him; his silhouette was too familiar to her, his build, the way he walked, his blond hair, his profile and his sneer and his cold grey eyes. No, she could spot Malfoy the length of any corridor or clear across the Quidditch pitch, even on a rainy day. There is only one door in that part of the corridor, the Room of Requirement...the classroom doors are too far away for him to have vanished so quickly. She wondered what use Malfoy would have in the magical room, and then dismissed that line of thought; anything she'd come up with would be speculation and completely inconclusive. But even Romilda was getting annoyed with Harry's preoccupation with whatever he presumed Malfoy was doing.

Hermione turned at the wall and increased her pace, trying to clear her mind, to no avail. She couldn't stop thinking about Draco bloody Malfoy and his odd behavior as of late. It seemed that Malfoy looked thinner and paler than normal, a little grey around the gills, as her grandmother used to say. Not only that but he seemed to have lost his arrogance, the usual smugness, or show any of his typical excitement in his lessons, and he rarely demonstrated his usual sense of superiority anymore. He didn't even take the time to snarl at her or call her Mudblood, even in front of the little second-year girls that trailed after him.

She turned over to do the free-style on her last lap and then climbed out to dry off. She dried her hair with a towel and used a liberal amount of leave-in conditioner on her hair, then redressed for the walk back to her dorm room. She saw Professor Snape in the corridor as she was leaving the bath. "Good evening, sir," she said politely.

"Don't good evening me," he growled in response.

Hermione was surprised by his gruffness, suddenly feeling off-footed and wary. "What's the matter?"

"Where is Mr. Potter?" he demanded.

"I...I don't know. Isn't he in the common room?" She looked at her watch. Holy shite! It was two minutes after curfew. "Oh, gods!" she exclaimed and looked up at him, alarmed. "I'm so sorry! I completely lost track of the time."

"No, Potter is not in the common room," he said angrily. "Rosalba informed me that he has not been in the common room all evening. What is he up to?"

Hermione was immediately confused and alarmed. Can portraits see Harry through this cloak? She wondered briefly if Rosalba had been in one of the portraits in the common room. She'd seen Rosalba in the room before, either visiting the portrait of Almerick Sawbridge, who had bravely removed the river troll that had been terrorizing people crossing the Wye River in 1658, or Philomena Plarkin, a Hogsmeade resident who had sheltered, defended and cared for the wounded during the 1612 goblin rebellion. No, they can't...all those times we've used it and weren't caught...

"Well, have you seen him or not?" he snarled, snapping her out of her reverie.

"I don't understand, sir," she said, still confused. She couldn't have seen him. He was under his cloak, and he'd taken Felix Felicis. "Last I saw Harry was in his dorm room before I came down for my swim."

"And what were you doing in his dorm room?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms.

"Talking!" she exclaimed. "Just talking."

"What about?" he asked.

"I don't remember, loads of things: his sessions with Dumbledore, Volde...oops, sorry," she flinched at his annoyed hiss, "You-Know-Who, whether his scar has been bothering him, and of course the ever ongoing Quidditch talk..." she rambled off. "Mostly, Harry suspects Malfoy is trying to kill the Headmaster." It wasn't all true, but those had been subjects of recent conversations. She purposefully didn't mention Hagrid or his bloody dead Acromantula.

He seemed to visibly relax, although lines of tension were still evident on his features. He looked away and inhaled deeply, then turned his attention back to her. "You should get back to your dorm."

"Yes, sir," she said with a shake of her head. "That's where I was headed. Good night, sir."

"Good night, Miss Granger," he said, moving aside to let her pass. "In the future, time your swims so that you are not violating curfew."

She smiled at him. He hadn't deducted House points. "I will, I promise. Thank you, sir." She turned and hurried for the stairs, praying she wouldn't get caught by Filch.

The common room was empty when she entered. Even the fire in the fireplace was little more than ash and glowing coals that barely gave off any light at all.

---

Harry told Ron and Hermione what had happened in his last session with Dumbledore the next Tuesday in Charms, but Hermione waited until they all had one of their rare joint free periods to get him to tell it to them again in detail so she could write it all down in the journal. Hermione had a hard time believing what they were up against...an immortal Dark Lord. Voldemort had possibly, although Harry had said it was an absolute certainty, made six of those Horcruxes. Six. She looked at the list in the margin and wrote five and six below them, then wrote snake after number six since Harry said that Dumbledore thought it the last one created. We have one that is an unknown. It could be anything!

Now she had three things to research in her free time, what little free time she had. She was no closer to finding the identity of the Half-Blood Prince, but she was determined to find out, and now she had to add historically significant artifacts that might have belonged to either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor...and that could include items people claimed belonged to them. In addition to that, she needed to know how to destroy Horcruxes. At least now, thanks to what Harry had related to her about Slughorn's true memory, she knew what a Horcrux was...just not how to destroy one. Sometimes being the brain of the three of them was really quite taxing.

On Saturday, Harry held Quidditch practice. Hermione sat in the stands with her journal and a few thick books on the founders, trying to figure out what, if any, possession of theirs may have survived all these years.

Ginny and Dean had another fight the night before, and although Dean was a second string player, he still practiced with the other Chasers. Off the court their relationship was obviously strained, and Ginny was overcompensating her discomfort with Dean flying with the team by acting out; she taunted Ron, teasing him that he fluttered about in front of the goal posts like a hummingbird, and taunting Harry about his inattentiveness during practice both times he'd been hit by a Bludger, because his attention seemed to be more focused on Katie and her.

At least Katie was flying well and was trying to get the strength back in her throwing arm.

Romilda sat in the stands with her friends, but it was apparent to Hermione that she was getting a little jealous because she couldn't get Harry's attention since his focus was on Katie and Ginny, whistled shrilly when Harry made an impressive move.

But between Ginny's antics and Romilda's loud obnoxious behavior, Harry got so side-swiped by a Bludger. Harry scolded both Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke to keep better track of the iron balls. Thankfully Harry didn't seem too badly hurt and kept flying.

Ginny, still acting outlandishly, imitated Harry's roll and shouted, "Oi, whatcha doing Harry? To busy scolding Sloper and Kirke like you did McLaggen to watch your own back?" which Harry took in good stride, laughing at his own expense. However, Harry failed to see Jack Sloper miss the Bludger again, and it hit Harry on the side, knocking him from his broom and ending the practice. Romilda screamed, as she and several others rushed from the stands. By the time Hermione made it to the field, Harry was being supported by both Ron and Andrew up to the castle with Romilda tearfully following in their wake.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey was able to heal Harry's fractured ribs easily, if not rather painfully, coated some nasty bruises with Bruise Paste, then put him to bed for the night. Hermione and Ron returned to visit him after dinner, however, the only thing on Harry's mind was Malfoy's supposed plot to kill Dumbledore. "Ron, take the map and keep an eye on Malfoy," Harry asked as soon as Ron and Hermione sat down next to his bed.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I thought you had Dobby and Kreacher tailing him," Ron said.

"Harry, I thought you put an end to that!" Hermione shrieked, getting a stern glare from Madam Pomfrey.

Harry was cut off from answering when Romilda stepped around the curtain. "Hi, Harry. I thought you'd like company, but I see you already have some."

"Nah, it's all right," Harry said, but there was a slight disappointed tone to his voice that apparently Romilda didn't pick up on as she came over and kissed him, and then sat down beside him on the bed.

"What were you talking about?" she asked.

"Quidditch," Harry and Ron both answered at the same time, which, of course, became the topic of conversation for the rest of the visit.

Hermione tried to talk some sense into Harry on Sunday, but every time she stopped by, Romilda was there, so she gave up and went back to her research projects. Hermione finally found a moment to talk with Harry Sunday night when he joined her and Ron by the fire in the common room before her swim.

"No, I don't think Mrs. Malfoy was in the Three Broomsticks the day Katie was attacked...she doesn't exactly blend in well with the usual crowd of the pub and a bunch of students," she told Harry, and Ron, for once, murmured his agreement. "And I know you're convinced that Malfoy stole a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion during the first week of school, Harry, but even if he did, there would only be fifteen or sixteen doses at most. Besides, why steal it? He received an Outstanding on his Potions O.W.L., so it's possible that he could brew a batch on his own somewhere in the dungeons. I mean, if his mother is helping him in whatever this task is, it's fair to assume she she could have sent him the boomslang skin he'd need. I'm sure he'd have no problem finding the recipe in Moste Potente Potions...I did!"

"And all packages are checked?" Ron stated, for once being helpful.

Hermione smiled at him. "They are, Filch and the professors looking for dangerous substances and products from your brother's shop," she then turned Harry, "but boomslang skin and lacewing flies are hardly dangerous substances," she explained. "But this is all speculation. You have no proof he's doing anything wrong."

Harry crossed his arms and sunk back into his pillows. Hermione knew that no matter what she said, or how logically she explained the improbability, she knew Harry just wouldn't be swayed to see reason.

---

As the weather turned balmy, Harry was becoming more and more obsessed with watching for Malfoy on the map. He would get frustrated when he was unable to locate Malfoy, and would make excuses to go to the Room of Requirement to try to get in and see what Malfoy was doing. Tuesday, Harry tried to leave Herbology by disturbing a Snargaluff, intentionally getting quite a few nasty scratches, because he thought he saw Malfoy's name on the map beside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But Professor Sprout had him dip his hand in Essence of Dittany and told him to get back to work. In Charms on Wednesday, he tried taking a Nosebleed Nougat to skive off, but Professor Flitwick was onto Fred and George Weasley's trick treats and handed him a nougat, telling him to eat the turquoise end and hand him back the red end, which of course, stopped the bleeding instantly.

A second-year girl passed Hermione a note from Professor Snape before her Ancient Runes lesson later that day, telling her to come to his office after dinner, which meant she'd have to cancel the dueling practice that evening. Hermione found Ginny before dinner and told her about the note.

"What does he want?" Ginny asked as they walked down to dinner together. Up ahead, Harry and Ron were listening to whatever Romilda was saying.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "But if you want, could we switch the meeting for Thursday or Friday?"

"All right. I'll ask Neville and Seamus to lead it tonight, and you and I can practice together on Friday," Ginny said as she waved at Luna. They waited until she caught up to them. "Luna, spread the word, dueling is still on, okay?"

"I can do that," Luna said cheerfully and skipped away. Hermione spent dinner between Ron and Ginny, with the Creeveys and Andrew Kirke across from them, talking about the upcoming game of Quidditch.

When Hermione saw Professor Snape leave the Great Hall, she quickly said good bye to her friends and hurried out of the Great Hall to catch up to him. "Professor," she called out at the bottom of the stairs.

He stopped and waited for her, then led her silently to the small practice room. "You wanted to see me?" she asked as soon as he closed the door.

"Yes," he said in a stern tone. "It has been noted by both Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick that Mr. Potter tried to skive off his lesson today...don't deny it, and there have been numerous times he's been caught examining an old piece of parchment during his lessons. Professor McGonagall is going to speak to him about this tonight. However, I want to know what is going on and if this in any way involves Draco Malfoy."

Hermione let her bottom lip slide out from under her teeth as she considered what to say. She couldn't lie to him, just couldn't, but she hated admitting the truth and hurting Harry. The thing was, she was a lousy liar and knew it...he'd see right through any lie she tried to tell him. "I know he's concerned about Malfoy...I told you that already," she finally admitted. "I told him he shouldn't skive off lessons, but he tried anyway...and neither time worked."

"I see," he said slowly. "Miss Granger, Hermione, listen to me; I want you and your friends to stay away from Draco Malfoy."

She gaped at him, wondering if maybe Harry was right after all. "So he is the one making the attempts on Headmaster Dumbledore," she said, surprised by his warming.

"That's still an unfounded accusation, Miss Granger, and I'd have thought better of you..."

She lowered her head and exhaled heavily. "I'm sorry, sir. You're right." Stop jumping to conclusions. But it was starting to all add up, and even though logically she couldn't connect Malfoy to things that had been happening, she'd passed him too many times, either coming or going, on her way to the prefect bath. He had to be using the Room of Requirement for something, but she had no idea what.

Professor Snape looked away, lowered his head and exhaled heavily. "I don't want you and Mr. Malfoy to get into an altercation," he said, sounding weary. He looked at her and a small sad smile quirked his lips before he asked. "How is your practicing going with Miss Weasley?"

"So far, all right. We've been doing some dueling with the fencing moves you taught me," she admitted. "We're getting rather good, I think."

His mouth quirked back into a crooked smile. "Would you care to show me?"

Hermione smiled back. "Waverly rules or the International Wizarding Regulations?" she asked.

"I hardly think you're ready for Death Eater rules," he said with a smirk.

"Waverly it is then," she said as he led her to the huge room with the arches.

To make things more interesting, he charmed the Cricket ball to fly like a Bludger about the room, so not only was she fighting him, but she had to look out for the cricket ball and deflect it as well.

Hermione tried to control her breathing, but it was labored. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest, and all her senses were on high alert. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, counting to ten in her mind. She heard the cricket ball smack into the ceiling followed by a scuffle, a boot-on-gravel sound, and she turned, moving to the side of the pillar quickly and as quietly as she could, then peered around it.

The glow orbs and torches elongated the shadows, but hers was angling away from where she'd heard the sound across the space between two other pillars. Suddenly she saw a torch flicker and the cricket ball change direction. She took aim, staying close to the pillar at her back, and fired a nonverbal Stunner and Tripping Jinx at where she thought he was. A jet of light bounced off the nearest pillar to where she stood just as the cricket ball came at her from above. Using a perfect Sixte movement, she immediately fired a Jelly-Legs and Tripping Jinx in quick succession at the dark space between the pillars and managed to deflected the ball in time, making it soar into the space as well, gratified when she heard an, "Oomph." I got him! Four out of six!

She hurried over to the next pillar and saw a dark form on the ground. "Oh my gods!" she cried out and hurried over to where Professor Snape lay on the ground. She saw the cricket ball lunge for her in the corner of her eye and blasted the thing, then knelt next to him. She looked him over worriedly, feeling thankful when she saw him move slightly. She helped him roll onto his back and propped him up on her lap. "I'm so sorry!" she cried, using the cuff of her sleeve to blot the blood on his forehead. Not knowing what else to use, she severed her sleeve and pressed it against his wound. "Oh, gosh, Dobby! Can you hear me? Please come, I need help."

There was a loud crack in the quiet room, and Dobby appeared. "Dobby hears Harry Potter's friend...Dobby is happy to help a friend of Harry Potter," he said bowing. "What does Miss need of Dobby?"

"I need a flannel and water and Essence of Dittany, and please hurry," she rambled off and Dobby disappeared. "Oh, please be all right," she pleaded to the wizard lying in her arms.

She heard a soft moan and smiled in relief. "Professor, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you," he said softly as Dobby returned. "You're practically shouting."

Hermione grabbed the Dittany as she said, "Hold still, this may sting a little." She eased her sleeve away from the cut and let a little of the Essence fall into the wound. He hissed as the Essence healed his cut.

She put the bottle down and reached for the wet flannel as he tried to sit up. "Here, let me help you," she offered.

He swatted her hand away, but swayed, and she scooted closer to him, supporting his back. "At least let me clean your face," she offered. He looked up at her as she leaned over him and gently wiped the blood away. "I'm really sorry about this."

"About what? Helping me, or clobbering me with that bloody ball?" he snapped, but remained as he was, watching her as she rinsed the flannel in the water.

To her amazement, the bowl emptied and refilled itself. "Of course I'd help you. I'm just sorry about hurting you," she said as she finished wiping his face. She dropped the flannel into the water and both vanished.

"What happened to your sleeve?" he asked, taking her hand in his.

She looked at his fingers wrapped around her wrist, feeling a heady tingle at the soft contact and felt her face warm up. "I, er, used it to stop the bleeding. I didn't have anything else." He dropped her wrist and her skin cooled from the loss. She looked down at him, and their gazes locked. For a few heartbeats neither moved. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," he replied, moving slowly as he sat up. Hermione rose quickly and offered her hand again to help him off the floor, but he shook it off.

"I'm fine, Miss Granger," he said as he drew himself up to his full height. She walked with him back to his office, still worried that he might have a concussion.

"I'm fine, Miss Granger," he repeated once they reached his door.

They said good night to each other, a clear dismissal on his part, and she truly hoped he was as all right as he said he was.

---

Severus watched Hermione walk away before entering his office. His head hurt like hell, but he had the needed potions in his cupboard. He had brewed them himself, keeping a good stock of pain potions and the one for concussions in case a student in his lessons got out of hand, along with the potions he had for when the Dark Lord became incensed or a raid went wrong. Severus was not impervious to pain, but he'd learned long ago to be prepared for all possible contingencies.

He selected what he needed and swallowed liberal doses of the potions, slowly starting to feel the throbbing in his head recede. He pulled out a small mirror and looked at the wound. It already looked several days old. He'd have a slight scar, but not all that noticeable, not that he cared about his appearance. Scars like this made him look rakish and rugged a witch at a revel had told him once. He put the mirror back.

He sat down wearily at his desk. Hermione had been generally concerned about his welfare; the concern in her eyes had warred with the guilt she felt from the accident. She hadn't meant to harm him, only incapacitate him. The combination of the nonverbal Jelly-Legs and Tripping Jinx had been a bold move but risky because if he hadn't been hit with the cricket ball, he'd still had full use of his wand.

Still, she'd done well, besting him three times out of six...he hardly counted being incapacitated by a ball a point in her favor.

He pulled the remnant of her sleeve out of his pocket and examined the bloodstain. She'd ruined a blouse in order to care for him. Being cradled by her as she'd healed him and then cleaned up his face had felt both comforting and awkward. Unintentionally, the image of her leaning over him, his head cradled between her perfect breasts, came unbidden to his thoughts, and before he forced the memory from his mind, the scenario changed. Hermione leaning over, her soft lips brushing his, her hand cupping his face so as to deepen the kiss between them, and his hand slid up into her hair. In his mind, he took control of the kiss, turning in her embrace so they faced each other, his position making her angle backward. And by mutual consent, no words spoken to break the impassioned connection of their mouths, they lay back onto the ground, him over her, her lithe body stretched out along his...

He shook his head, ignoring the rush of pain that helped to clear his thoughts.

She is your student, you filthy bastard! He cursed himself. She'd no more kiss you than she'd kiss Potter. Thankfully, that was at least true; for once he desired a woman that held no interest in a Potter.

Severus pulled out his diary and opened it to the corresponding day, writing 1997 before documenting what actually took place in the dueling room.

---

Not even halfway through dinner, Severus noticed Dumbledore kept scratching his arm frequently. He'd have written it off as simply the skin of his blackened arm bothering him, but then both Minerva and Filius began scratching their arms as well, specifically the arm closest to the Headmaster. All three quietly rose and left the Great Hall through the staff entrance, and Severus rose to follow.

"Headmaster, what is it...?" he began to ask as Minerva, wearing a rather nice red robe, commented about black specks covering her sleeve.

Severus drew his wand swiftly and encased all three of them in a magical bubble. "Let me see your arm," he said loudly, moving closer to the three of them.

Minerva, fuming at his impertinent behavior, raised her arm. Dumbledore peered at the fabric through his spectacles as Severus leaned forward to get a closer look. Dumbledore in his dark green robes with Sandpipers embroidered in variegated colors on the cuffs, hem and down the front, and Flitwick in his black and royal blue robes. He couldn't see anything on their persons, but when Filius shook his arm vigorously, tiny black specks fell to the bottom of the magical sphere, some of the speckles hopping back onto their robes.

"Well, spotted, my boy," Dumbledore said, straightening. "I do believe that we may have an infestation of chizpurfles. Do go back into the Hall and very quietly pass the word to the rest of the staff to cast a containment shield on their persons. Then alert the house-elves and notify Madam Pomfrey."

Severus understood immediately. "Yes, Headmaster, I'll take care of it from here," he said. He passed along the Headmaster's orders, and slipped away to retrieve the necessary disinfectant, a bee smoker, and put six small vials of the antivenin (in case his coworkers had been bitten), three bottles of his disinfectant shampoo and three bars of the disinfectant soap in his pocket. Since Slughorn put chizpurfles on the school Potions ingredient lists, he had more than enough on hand...enough for multiple infestations.

He had no idea how Albus could have been infested with live chizpurfles since the supply of the insects sent to the school were supposed to have all been freeze-dried. Severus summoned some house-elves. He gave a house-elf wearing a jumper and knitted hat a five gallon container of the insecticide. "Take this to Madam Pomfrey immediately."

"Dobby will do as Master of Potions and Professor of Defeating Dark Arts commands Dobby," the elf said bowing low and disappearing with a loud crack.

Severus refrained from rolling his eyes as he turned to the others. "The rest of you, distribute the disinfectant shampoo and bar soap in those boxes in each one of the staff's and students' showers, and temporarily remove any of the students' shampoos and soap. The students' soaps and shampoos can be put back in place later tonight after the students use the ones with the chizpurfles disinfectant. And everything, anything made of cloth or upholstered in cloth of any sort must be cleaned."

"Caddy will see that it is done as Master of Potions and Professor of Defeating Dark Arts commands us," the elf closest to him said, bowing low as the others picked up the boxes and disappeared with loud cracks.

Severus shook his head at the deferential titles the house-elves continued to use even though he was no longer teaching Potions. "You might also have the house-elves use it as well so you don't get infested either. It should be safe enough for you to use."

"Thank you, sir!" Caddy squeaked and smiled. "Caddy will tells all house-elves to wash with Master of Potions and Professor of Defeating Dark Arts' soap and shampoo tonights, sir!" He vanished with a soft pop.

Severus shook his head again and left his office in a hurry. He returned to the corridor between the staff room and the staff entrance to the Great Hall the same time as Pomona. "Headmaster, I've put all the house-elves on alert," Severus practically shouted as he made his way through to the magical bubble. "I've sent Madam Pomfrey the insecticide, but I've also taken the liberty of asking the house-elves to distribute the shampoo and bar soap in all the showers."

"Good, good. Now as discreetly as you can, and without drawing the attention of the students, put the Compulsion Charm on every student so that they will want to change their clothes and take a very long hot shower. Inform the house-elves to collect the students' clothes and have their bed things ready for them. Hopefully, none of the students will be the wiser," Dumbledore said, and Severus heard the soft crack of Apparition from the side of the room. "Someone will go to the library and see if the infestation reached there, and I must ask that all of you use Severus' soap and shampoo liberally as well."

The rest of the staff, who were so far thankfully uninfected, dispersed to carry out his orders. Severus turned to the three in the bubble. "Okay, now for you three, you'll need to hold your breath and close your eyes," he instructed them, and the three inside obeyed. He pushed the funnel of the smoker into the bubble and filled the space quickly with the smoke until he could barely see them anymore and waited to let it saturate their clothes.

Albus cast a sweeping charm on them, trying to remove as many of the insects as possible so the insects would die in the fume. Severus released the bubble and eliminated the smoke and fallen chizpurfles as each professor added a Bubble Charm on their persons.

"You will have to change out of your robes, and you'll have to continue the containment shield until you can be properly disinfected," Severus said, ushering them into the staff loo. A house-elf appeared with coveralls and towels as Severus transfigured three of the loo stalls in the lavatory into showers.

Bloody hell but this was a nuisance.

Between the well-practiced discipline of the staff and the efficiency of the house-elves, the castle was rid of the infestation within a matter of an hour and a half.

Good thing too, he had a meeting with Hermione in half an hour to practice her wandless magic skills, and he didn't want to miss it.

---

Hermione entered her dorm after taking an exorbitantly long shower, one towel wrapped around her body and drying her hair with another. Lavender and Parvati were gossiping on the recent break up of Romilda and Harry and speculating on who he'd date next. "She is really upset, but then she kept complaining that he spent all his time obsessing over Draco Malfoy," Lavender was telling her friend.

The announcement didn't surprise Hermione at all...Harry's obsession with Malfoy's comings and goings grated on her nerves as well. She grabbed her brush and began to comb out her hair, then divided it and plaited it for the night. By morning it would be all kinky, but with the lovely conditioner she'd just used, at least it would be manageable.

She glanced at her clock, and her hand dropped in shock at the time. She was supposed to see Professor Snape in less than half an hour, and she was still wrapped in a towel with wet hair! She opened up her wardrobe but her clothes were all missing. She checked her trunk, finding even her swimsuits were missing. Her night pajamas and dressing robe were on the bed, but the rest of her clothes were gone. Okay, calm down, there's a logical explanation, I'm sure. Glancing around, she saw that her dorm mates were casually putting on their night clothes and climbing into bed as if nothing was amiss.

Inhaling deeply, she tried to rationalize things out, but came up with no plausible explanation other than the house-elves must have her clothes and they hadn't returned them to her yet. But that seemed so unlike them. Think.

Doing the only rational thing she could come up with, Hermione transfigured her pajama bottoms with its little rose print into something more closely resembling pants, and made the matching top edged with lace a little thicker. Bra, no bra! "Bugger," she breathed aloud. She turned her matching soft hooded dressing robe into a zip up hoodie and hoped that Severus wouldn't notice anything was amiss. She quickly transfigured her slippers into trainers. Fighting the compulsion to go to bed, she headed for the door.

She saw Ron and Harry by the fire when she exited the stairs. "There's Hermione. Maybe she knows."

"Knows what?" she asked, standing behind their favorite chairs. Both Ron and Harry looked like they had just showered as well and were both wearing their night clothes. "All my old dirty socks under my bed are missing, and everything in my trunk has been cleaned. It's like Mum just packed it for me," Ron said.

She was about to remark, 'Well at least you have clothes,' when Harry spoke up. "Yeah, no more manky odor from under your bed," Harry chided Ron with a chuckle, which made Hermione roll her eyes at them.

"I noticed it, too. There isn't a dirty anything anywhere," Neville commented. She turned around to see him point up at the wall. "Even the tapestries are clean."

But they were right. Looking around the common room she realized that it was spotless, more so than normal, and now that she thought about it, all the rugs, cushions, drapes and tapestries in the common room looked as if they had been cleaned, too, and there was a soft lemony, pine and pepper smell. "I have detention with Professor Snape," she said, turning to go.

"But, Hermione, it's bedtime," Ron whinged.

She paused, feeling a strong compulsion to go back upstairs to bed. "It's not even eight o'clock yet," she pointed out and turned to go.

She eyed each tapestry she passed on her way down to the dungeons, and they too had been cleaned. Everything seems to have been cleaned! The armor appeared to have been polished, the pennants looked crisp and new, the tapestries were clean, and there was a peppery pine and lemon smell, which reminded her of something, something that was right at the tip of her tongue.

Hermione looked up at the portraits, examining the frames as she descended the stairs. The portrait frames haven't been oiled... but the canvases looked normal. Portraits have cloth. Hermione shook her head. "The canvas is permeated with oil paints, and I suspect that the portraits have acid-free, water resistant backings," she mumbled to herself.

"Of course we do," a woman in an 1800's frilly white dress with blue bows said haughtily. "Otherwise the moisture from the walls would ruin my paint."

"So you weren't cleaned today?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, of all the indignity," the portrait of a wizard with a pointy nose and long pointy beard painted in the Neo Rocco style exclaimed. "I was cleaned last month, I'll have you know."

Hermione hurried down the stairs, hoping Professor Snape wouldn't be angry with her for being late. She was actually looking forward to her time with him, but dreaded it as well. The last time had been a week ago when he'd been clobbered with the charmed cricket ball because she'd knocked him to the ground. She still felt guilty about it, but the memory of him leaning up against her on the ground had stirred some rather disturbing thoughts, and it had replayed in her dreams, although not in any way to do with what had really happened. In her dreams, he'd reached out and touched her face, slid his fingers in her hair, drew her down to him and kissed her. The remembrance of the dreams still made her blush.

He'd turned, in her mind's eye, and kissed her. She could even imagine what his lips would feel like: soft, firm and yielding...gentle yet demanding, tentative, as if unsure, then becoming firmer, pressing, consuming and...

She shook her head. He would never do that...he's my teacher! But in her dreams, in her fantasies, he'd propped himself up, so they were face to face, sensually kissed her senseless as he slowly lowered her onto her back while deftly removing her clothes, and then made love to her on the soft rug that always appeared on the cold dungeon floor.

She paused at the door to collect herself. It's a dream. It didn't happen...wouldn't happen. It's like that bloody dream you had of kissing him in the prefect pool. You are only thinking like this because you're attracted to him. It's a phase, and you'll get over him. She wiped her clammy hands on her pants and knocked on the door.

He opened it, and she stood there gaping at him. He'd showered. His hair was wet. The aroma of his cologne was as strong as if he'd just applied it. The scent made her heady, disoriented as much as his very presence did.

"Stop gaping at me," he said in an annoyed tone, pulling her from her reverie, and moved aside to let her enter.

"I'm sorry, it's just that you look..." Oh gods, she was about to say he looked like he did in the prefect pool...in her dream of them kissing in the huge pool. Him diving in and sweeping her up in his arms like he'd done that one time, kissing her as they clung to each other while floating in the water. Sinking, still locked mouth to mouth and somehow not drowning or needing to breathe at all. Just his lean body pressed up to mine, his warm skin and the cool water... She looked away from his intense stare. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"I'm surprised you came," he said, eyeing her as if trying to read her.

I almost didn't, she thought, and for a moment, she again felt the compulsion to run back to her dorm room and go to bed. She glanced around his office and spotted the bee smoker. A bee smoker! She suddenly remembered cleaning the library with him, and afterward he'd given her a shampoo and soap to use in case she'd been infected. She and Professor Snape had been very careful to spray each other down after, and Dumbledore and Mr. Moody had inspected them, but he'd insisted she use the soap and shampoo anyway, as a precaution. It was the same... everything with cloth, all the books, and even the rug had to be coated with the insecticide from the smokers. She suddenly remembered the little bottles of shampoo in the showers. It was Severus' shampoo! She wondered if they'd used his soap as well. Compulsion Charms! They cast Compulsion Charms on us to shower and disinfect ourselves in case we were infected!

"Chizpurfles and whiteflurries! We had an infestation," she hissed softly. The house-elves must have had to clean everything made of cloth or covered in cloth.

He made no comment as he crossed his arms. He simply stood there regarding her.

She looked up at him. He had showered. The rooms, heck the entire castle, had a peppery pine and lemon smell. Oh Merlin, had he been infected? But how?

No point in worrying about it; if there had been an infestation and the professors had dealt with it quietly so as not to alarm anyone, then there was no reason to say anything. Besides, it might have just been precautionary, and I'd be causing a scene over nothing, she reasoned.

"Why are you surprised I came? We had an appointment," she said, recalling his comment when he'd let her into his office.

He nodded once as he dropped his arms. For a fleeting second, his mouth quirked, but then his normal calm expression was back in place. "I should have known you'd come," he said.

"Of course I'd come...I love our times together," she blurted out and immediately chastised herself for her slip of the tongue, then quickly recovered. "You...I learn so much from you, and I know you're trying to prepare me for what I'll face in the real world when we leave Hogwarts."

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying her but the flicker of a smile played on his lips before he spoke. "What little I can in the time I am allowed. So, what shall it be tonight: dueling or working on your wandless magic skills?"

She smiled. "Wandless magic. I've already showered, and if we duel, I'll only have to shower again," she replied with a smirk. She paused, contemplating the fact she'd showered before coming down to see him. She had done so automatically without really considering it, a compulsion...like the need she felt to be upstairs and in bed. "But first, do you think you could lift the Compulsion Charm off me?"

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. "I think not," he said, confirming her notion that she, and likely everyone else in school, had been put under the same compulsion suggestions: shower and go to bed. He flicked his wand and the compulsion grew stronger. "I think we'll use the charm to test your resolve at doing the tasks I give you."

"Because, in war I might be hit with spells that weaken my resolve as well as those that physically impede me from fighting, so this will make me focus harder."

"Not likely, but there are other distractions, other things that will break your concentration," he replied. "We'll work on your Conception spells tonight."

Hermione sighed. She was crap at wandless Conceptions spells.