Chapter 5

Chapter 5

During the next weeks, Severus kept busy. In classes, he would cram as much correcting of essays as he could manage, deducting house points left, right and centre from anyone disturbing his concentration by being incompetent. If someone blew up or melted a cauldron, they'd earn themselves a detention scrubbing the Potions classroom or pickling lacewing flies. The only change from the pre-war Professor Snape was that he now dollied out detentions in odd bouts. In fact, had Minerva not chosen to look the other way – she needed a Potions master – she might have commented on his tendency to bestow detentions for the slightest of offences when there was a lot of scrubbing, pickling or chopping to be done.

After making sure the dunderhead in detention did all the preparing of ingredients needed for classes, Severus would settle behind his desk and correct more essays. These were given less frequently this year, to the great relief of his students. When done with the tedious task of correcting sloppy essays, bestowing each with fewer sharp comments about stupidity and incompetence in spiky red script in order to save time, he would read the orders trickling in by owl and sort out his schedule for brewing in a colour-coded day planner he had bought in Hogsmeade after remembering that his Hermione had given him one of these in his dream. It looked ridiculous, but it worked very nicely.

By now, he had several potions brewing, ensuring that a steady trickle of extra income joined his teacher's salary. In addition to what he earned on renting out his cottage in Wales, by the end of June it should provide him the funds to start up his own, albeit small, company.

He had contemplated simply selling the cottage. While he didn't know a great deal about the real Miss Granger, he was willing to bet she wouldn't want to live in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. In the end, however, he had decided to let it be. His plan might yet fail. In that case, he would need his cottage again.

Miss Granger had, true to form, brought him a long list of publications to study. He did read them, too. His claim of wanting to know about modern Muggle life hadn't been untrue. Admittedly, he could have found the information he wanted himself. It would have cost him a little more time and effort, but not have been at all difficult. As it was, his plan had progressed nicely. To his surprise, Miss Granger had arrived with her list in the very next Potions class, and after a bit of hesitation, she'd asked about the book by Brage. It seemed the library didn't hold a copy, and she couldn't afford her own text of the over-priced volume.

He had readily lent her his book, supplying her also with the tome by Humphrey for comparison. After that, she'd stayed behind a few minutes after every class, just to ask him questions about Brage or answer his own about cell phones or internet or building development.

By the second week in October, he had started asking her questions about medications, and she had directed him to a monthly journal on the subject. Aside from the fact that Muggles seemed oddly eager to put the most poisonous compounds into their drugs, he found one or two ideas highly appealing. He was even toying with the idea of somehow condensing his potions to make pills. It would make storage and distribution so much more convenient. A glass of round tablets was by far easier to carry around in one's pocket in case of emergency than a vial of potion, especially when he considered the fact that most grown wizards and witches were dunderheads and couldn't properly shrink or place an unbreakable charm on said vial. He had taught them, after all, so he knew just how incompetent they were.

He had also brewed and dosed out to himself a mild teeth cleansing potion. The result was that his teeth were now the off-white colour of weak tea. When wooing a dentists' daughter, he would have to mind his dental hygiene.

---

Hermione was still dating Ron. At least, in theory she was still dating Ron. In reality, the two of them were constantly bickering, fighting and quarrelling. The closest they'd been to each other physically over the last two weeks had been when Hermione had whacked him on the shoulder for being an insensitive git. Ron sported a bruise for four days afterwards, but his male pride prevented him from complaining about it.

The only reason Hermione was still with Ron was her hope that it would get better. She'd always been one to fight for lost causes. Most others with a minimum ability to reason would have seen that she and Ron were a lost cause best abandoned. But while Hermione was smarter than most, she was also one to hope for what seemed impossible to the rest of the world. While Ron wasn't the man of her dreams, he was still just a boy. When he wasn't being an insensitive git, he was really ... just annoying. But he had to grow up, right? Then hopefully it would get better. She loved him, after all. As a friend, admittedly, but she'd read that relationships based on a strong friendship were likely to last. As far as passion went ... a few kisses with Viktor and a bit of snogging with Ron had yet to reveal any of the electrifying attraction found in the romance novels Lavender read. So Hermione filed it away along with Divination: silly, wishful thinking with no base in reality.

---

The end of October promised a trip into Hogsmeade, followed by the Halloween feast. Ron had secured himself a date with Hermione and was feeling rather smug. As they walked hand in hand behind Harry and Ginny, he was even too pleased to notice Ginny's hand sneaking under Harry's coat to caress her lover's back. He had long since stopped protesting. The last time he'd objected to Ginny snogging or groping Harry in front of him, he'd walked wobbly for three days due to the hex she threw at him for meddling in her business. She had made it clear that if he intruded again he'd be lucky to walk at all.

So Ron kept his eyes on Hermione, hoping she'd agree to kiss him once they were seated at a table in the Leaky Cauldron with their bottles of Butterbeer in front of them. He'd made sure to follow his book to the letter today, starting by complimenting her hair. It looked as bushy as it always did, of course, but she'd smiled when he told her it looked nice.

Walking along in silence through the cold October wind, Ron pondered the peculiarity of girls. There was Lavender, who had smothered him completely. Before her, he'd never known a guy could actually be snogged too much. So it had been rather nice that Hermione gave him space, at first. Yet, a kiss every fourth day or so wasn't much better than being accosted every time he entered the same room as his girl. Therefore, he now wondered if there couldn't be something in between: a girl who wanted to kiss him, but wasn't obsessed with the idea. Not that he wanted to break up with Hermione; she was much too scary when angered.

They reached the pub and got their Butterbeers. Ron steered Hermione to a corner away from the one where Ginny was groping Harry under the table. He grinned to himself when she let him hold her hand while she talked animatedly about some old potions text or another. After twenty solid minutes of nodding while not understanding a word, just to make her happy, he kissed her in sheer desperation of getting her to shut up. To his surprise, it worked for once.

---

Late that same night, Hermione sat with a group of giggling girls in her dormitory. She really wanted to get some sleep before tomorrow. There was homework to be done. No one else seemed to mind though, and while she could have put a silencing charm on her four-poster bed and gone to sleep, she would just feel left out come tomorrow.

"I'm telling you," Lavender said. "It's absolutely horrible being back this year. No handsome boys at all!" It was no secret that she fancied a Ravenclaw boy named Zacharias, who everyone else knew fancied boys. His lack of response to her heavy flirting made the girl sulky at best.

"I wouldn't say that," Ginny replied mischievously. "I'm quite pleased with the selection."

Lavender pouted and returned her attention to the magazine Parvati was reading, while Ginny compared notes with a friend regarding fellatio. It filled Hermione's head with highly unwelcome pictures of Ginny doing the things mentioned to Harry, so she turned in desperation to Parvati, hoping to get distracted. It was either that or starting to hum loudly to herself. She did not want to picture Harry like that.

"What are you reading?" she asked, trying to ignore the two girls now talking about the taste of semen.

"Just an article," Parvati replied. "It's rubbish, I'm sure. Some witch claiming a wizard's nose tells you the size of his penis."

Hermione snorted disdainfully. Honestly! There was absolutely no scientific background for claiming things like that. It was just as silly as the one claiming a man with big feet also had a big dick.

"You can't be sure it's not true," Lavender objected. "Not that I really know any men with big noses –" She stared vacantly ahead, clearly cataloguing the wizards of Hogwarts by their noses.

"It has to be codswallop," Ginny chimed in. "Just imagine the size of Snape's thing if it was true!" She and her friend fell over each other, laughing about the idea.

"He'd have witches swarming all over him, never mind his greasy hair!" Parvati added, laughing with the other two.

"Lining up for a go with his giant cock!" Ginny said. "Mind you, he has been getting one or two offers since the end of the war –"

The four girls started laughing again, leaving Hermione scowling at them. She couldn't believe the disrespect they showed by speculating about Professor Snape like that! No one would think in such a way about any other teacher! Of course, that was probably because the rest were positively ancient. Snape wasn't really that old. He seemed ancient, at times, but he was really the same age as Remus and Sirius. Hermione's brain quickly added it up as him being thirty-eight, thus nineteen years older than her. It struck her as peculiar that the serious, menacing professor was the same age as the fun-loving, childish Sirius Black had been. Not that Snape was menacing any more. He could be nearly pleasant, at times. She actually liked talking to him.

"What's got your attention, Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Imagining Snape?" She burst into laughter again at the look of shock on Hermione's face.

"Of course not!" Hermione protested. She shuddered at the mere idea.

Professor Snape might be nice company, but he was still very old and ... not very handsome, was he? Hermione contemplated this. Her choice in men was hardly better. Viktor, while famous, had been weirdly clumsy when not on a broom. His body had seemed out of proportion with itself. Ron wasn't by any standard a handsome boy, either. He had flaming red hair that he kept a little too long, so that it always looked like he'd just got out of bed. Freckles all over ... well, everywhere Hermione had seen. He was clumsy, mostly. He ate with his mouth open. But still ... he was strangely adorable. At least he had been.

So who was she to say that Professor Snape was bad looking? He probably looked just fine to a witch his own age. There certainly was no podgy beer belly. His hair wasn't balding or greying. As for anything below the belt ... Hermione found the notion of her Professor having a sex life very icky. Not because he was unappealing. Lots of ugly people were happily married, after all. She found that notion deeply comforting. Not everything depended on looks; there was proof of it to see daily. No, the idea of Professor Snape having any sort of love life at all was simply icky because he was Professor Snape. It never had occurred to her that the man was well, a man. He had to take a leak, like any other man. Hmm ... did those many-buttoned clothes afford easy access? He got horny, like any other man. Well, like most men, anyway, there were those few who –

She mused to herself for several minutes about what she'd read in the book about sexual habits. Sometimes she feared that she might have a low sex drive. Ron never made her feel anything at all, and she'd never felt that dizzying infatuation that Lavender seemed to feel for a new boy every two months. The same one that Ginny had felt for Harry for years.

Of course, Snape might like men. But then she remembered that he'd been in love with Harry's mother, so he must like women, unless he liked both, obviously. At this point in her speculations she stopped herself, deeply mortified at her own brain's inability to stay away from a riddle. If Professor Snape had known what she'd been thinking about, he'd probably have her in detention until after graduation!

By the time the other girls were ready for bed, Hermione was curled up under her duvet. She had contemplated reading, but for once, she wasn't in the mood. Her head was still spinning with the notion that Professor Snape was a man. She wondered idly if he dated. He was single, after all. Did he have girlfriends? The idea made her have to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle. Did he go to bars? Did he flirt? She buried her face in the duvet to muffle the sound of her laughter. A picture of Professor Snape in his billowing cloak, holding out an umbrella-drink to a witch in skimpy robes while he waggled his eyebrows had plastered itself to her eyelids. Highly unlikely. She would be willing to bet that the man was horrible at flirting.

---

At the very same time, Severus sat in his favourite chair by the fireplace, a glass of Firewhisky forgotten on the table beside him, while he stared into the flames. He was feeling particularly disheartened tonight. Hermi – Miss Granger – had been flaunting her love for Idiot Weasley for everyone to see at Hogsmeade. Severus might have successfully befriended her, but he was twice her age, for Merlin's sake! He was her professor. The moral dilemma didn't bother Severus. He was more than willing to date his own student if it was what would make his life better than the misery it currently was. What bothered him was that not once, in nearly twenty years of teaching, had any of the girls looked his way. When he had been a young professor, they could still remember the awkward student Severus, and later ... later there had been the bitter bat of the dungeons. While the real Miss Granger was an exceptional girl, she had never given him any hint that she saw him as anything but a teacher and hesitant friend.

Admittedly, he had received a few ... propositions after his name had been cleared. The first time he'd received a letter from a witch he'd never even met before, stating her wish to make his life complete (her words, not his), he'd assumed it was someone poking fun at him and tossed the letter into the fireplace. The second time, he had snorted disdainfully and incinerated it. But they kept coming; what he could only assume to be insane witches, stating their desire to spend their life with him, or at the very least, to warm his bed for a while. He wasn't tempted. Nothing was worse than a clingy witch, sure she could better his life by changing his habits. Well, to be entirely honest, the idea of a witch warming his bed was tempting, just not tempting enough for him to risk the comfort of his lifestyle.