Chapter Seven: Fools, Wearing Their Hearts on Their Sleeves

Severus lifted her hand to his lips, pausing for effect just a whisper away from her soft skin. Hermione looked up at him in wide-eyed wonder. His heart tapped a curious cadence in his chest; the pulse point at her neck fluttered wildly.

Her pupils dilated till her eyes seemed nearly as black and fathomless as he knew his own to be.

The air surrounding them seemed to thicken then diminish.

She compensated with a rapid series of deep, stuttering breaths.

His jaw snapped down, and he sucked in more than his share of the available oxygen in a gaping yawn.

She snatched her hand back, saying, "Oh!" for what had to be close to the hundredth time that afternoon. "You poor thing! You must be extremely exhausted."

Severus turned away, muttering an irritated, "Or distinctly disinterested," before his brain had time to stop him.

There you go again with the insults and alliteration! And your breath likely caused as much offense as your words.

Fuck off. He was too tired to even put much venom into mentally scolding himself. Besides, he knew the hated voice was right. This time.

Except...

He glanced back at the witch lounging next to him.

Except, rather than glaring at him as he deserved, Hermione Granger was smiling gently.

"Here. I'll go so you can lie down," she said, patting his bed.

"No," he said. Obviously his mouth was still operating without input from his brain.

"Erm, that is to say... What?" Her wide eyes grew wider with worry and confusion. "You don't want to lie down?"

I must seem a right idiot, Severus thought. Or insane, more like. Barely able to... another huge yawn interrupted the thought. Barely able to keep my eyes open or even stand on my own feet.

He considered sending her to rifle through his library in search of milder invigorating spells (which he knew she wouldn't find) or to defile his kitchen with her wretched cocoa.

I might at least get a coffee out of that. Surely one of the other know-it-alls taught her how. Or, maybe that pervert who stuck his... my... our head up her skirt? Good god, I need to sleep!

Dealing with embarrassment had never been one of his stronger suits, and exhaustion didn't improve his facility in the least. In the end, however, both the sad concern painting her face and his own keen desire for a cuddle won out. Not that he intended to alert her to that last bit.

"No," he told her, carefully modulating his tone. "I meant, I would like to have a rest, but I would prefer you to remain and, er, continue filling me on what has been happening."

She parted her perfect little lips – to protest that he really needed to sleep, no doubt – but he cut her off before she could begin.

"There's no need to start at the beginning," he warned. "Your fifty-fifth incarnation was kind enough to explain much of what the others held back. Unfortunately, I was wrenched away before she could..." Before she could bewitch me out of the rest of my clothes? Something told him saying that wouldn't end well for him. Good job he was used to thinking quickly. "Before she could tell me about the days immediately leading up to my recent adventures."

For a moment, he thought she would refuse.

"All right." She was giving him another of those soft smiles.

And patting his bed again.

Merlin, I hope I stay awake!

SS~HG

"You nearly slept with her!" Granger sat, knees drawn up to her chest, on the bed next to him and waved her copy of the blasted Notebook as if it were a criminal indictment.

Still groggy and grouchy, Severus wondered how often his sleep would be interrupted. Despite her protests that it was nearly all about the Violets, he'd convinced her to share the most recent updates from the book. And he'd drifted off to the sound of a voice he found increasingly... necessary, as well as to thoughts of a little girl who wasn't his daughter but could have been. He certainly hadn't expected to be awakened so soon, or in such an unpleasant way.

He scrubbed the edge of his hand across his eyes, wincing at his own harsh treatment of his person. But it did the trick; he was fully awake.

Sitting up, he leant over to peer more closely at his companion. Her eyes were red, her skin blotchy. The book she still held aloft, however, seemed different to what he recalled. It was narrower and not quite as long. No, he decided, it wasn't The Notebook, after all.

"Ahh, poring over the secrets your little faction of Hermiones keep from the rest, are you?" He let his lips slip into a derisive smirk. "How Slytherin of you. I have to admit I'm impressed."

Granger glared at him. "Well?"

Severus sighed and ran his hand over his face again, but far more gently this time.

"Well, what, Granger?" As amusing as he found her, his patience was already growing thin. And left to her own devices, she'll probably take hours to answer!

He stretched over to twitch the book from her hands, but she snatched it out of his reach before shoving it between her breasts and her knees.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Her brow furrowed, and her lips twisted in distaste. "How to you intend to excuse what you did?"

For just a moment, Severus was confused. Then understanding came so quickly he almost laughed aloud.

The witch means to play "wife" before the wedding, does she? This will be fun!

It had been a long time since he'd had anything like "fun" in his life. Come to think of it, had he ever?

"I don't intend to excuse myself," he told her, "because I don't need excuses.

"If by 'sleep with' you mean I achieved a state of unconsciousness at her side," he went on, his voice oozing the kind of disdain he hadn't got to use since his Hogwarts days, "then I did, in fact, sleep with her. There's no 'nearly' to it. Just as I 'slept with' you."

Granger's face turned the colour of beetroot and her luscious lips nearly disappeared in a magnificent display of ire.

"You know what I mean! You didn't only 'achieve a state of unconsciousness' with her. If you hadn't travelled exactly when you did, you would have had sex with her!"

She's making it far too easy for me, really.

"What? When I travelled, I was barely awake again!" he roared back, making certain she couldn't perceive just how much he was enjoying the exchange. "But even if I had had sex with Ms Fifty-five, why should that matter to you, Miss Granger?"

"It doesn't!" She folded her arms round her knees but, tellingly, looked away. Severus smirked at the faint flush colouring the cheek turned towards him. "But it should matter to you," she muttered. "She's a married woman."

"Whose husband not only condones and encourages her activities, but also engages in similar behaviour."

"That's no excuse!"

Severus took perverse pleasure in watching her reaction to his disinterested-sounding, "Isn't it? Not that it matters as I've already said I haven't got an excuse."

Because he knew she knew – and he could tell she knew he knew she knew – she had no leg to stand on because she still refused to look at him, instead settling for a disgruntled "Hmpf!" and a surly frown.

His cheeks hurt from committing unfamiliar contortions. Plainly, he was as close to grinning like a dunderhead as he'd ever been in his life. But he could hardly be bothered to stop.

Hermione Granger Two Seventy-three was as drawn to him as he was to her.

And yet, he also knew the witch could be as stubborn as he was wont to be. As distasteful as he might find it, Severus realised it was time to bring out the heavily artillery. Mustering the full complement of cunning in his arsenal, he rearranged his expression into something he hoped looked solemn, at least, if not woefully forlorn.

"Please, Hermione," he pretended to plead. He waited until she looked at him, her gaze hesitant but hopeful, before continuing. "Put yourself in my place. Imagine what it must is like to be torn – without warning – from the only world you've known. For days I lived in constant anxiety, never knowing where I would next open my eyes."

He watched her expression soften, compassion and chagrin painting her features. Then he moved in for the kill.

"And I have been so very... lonely these past years."

When she didn't speak, only stared at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, he wondered if he'd over-played his hand. But then she closed her mouth with an audible snap and abruptly stood, and he knew he'd won this round, at least.

"Hermione, wait!" he called as she stormed towards the door. He didn't really expect her to stop, but wasn't surprised when she did. She didn't turn towards him, either, he noted. "Please," he said, forcing even more sorrow into his tone.

You'll go to Hell for this, the annoying voice taunted. Or at least piss her off rather than get what you want from her.

"Don't go," he pleaded anyway. "I have been lonely for most of my life, but each time I travelled, I got a glimpse of what might have been if I'd... I saw what I might have had if I'd had..."

He let his words trail off, suddenly aware that he wasn't feigning the longing any longer. That last bit had revealed more than he liked to admit even to himself.

"What was she like, Severus?" she whispered. "Violet?"

His chest constricted. Why is she asking me that?

"Like me, to look at," he said, almost against his will. "At least at first glance. But looking closer, there is a warmth, a sense of affection... There is a... loveliness she could only have got from her mother."

Fuck! I must sound a right sop!

But it also worked.

Granger spun on her heel and very nearly flew towards him, that smaller version of The Notebook still clutched in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Severus!" she cried. Falling onto the bed, the little Notebook gripped in one small fist, she awkwardly clambered over to within six inches of where he lay. Without looking up from the small strip of space between them, she spoke again. "I've thought about it too."

Her eyes shined with unshed tears when they finally met his.

"I wanted to tell you. Everything. I... I thought... You had a right to know." She looked away, tears and a guilty flush staining her face. "It's only... The rules, and... other things."

Rules you were perfectly willing to break when it suited you, he thought. And yet, he suspected he knew exactly what those "other things" were. Because he couldn't promise she wasn't – or more accurately, the other living Severuses weren't – right about what he would have chosen had he known about the curse before experiencing everything he'd experienced in the past couple of days, he didn't reply.

Not being able to lash out left him at a loss. Severus stared a her profile for several moments before reaching out and running his thumb across her wet cheek. She sucked in a shuddering breath. Emboldened by her response, he snatched the bedclothes from beneath her and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her quiet voice further muffled because her face was pressed up against his chest. Severus grimaced at the snot and tears seeping through his nightshirt, but didn't push her away or let go.

"So am I," he said, surprising himself by meaning it.

She felt good, curled against him as she was and, giving in to a sudden impulse, he tipped up her chin and used a fistful of her nightgown to clean her face. Before he could talk himself out of it, he was leaning forward and brushing his lips over hers.

There wasn't any passion in the kiss – for one thing, it was over as quickly as it had begun, and he was tired enough still that his prickly prick didn't try to join in – but he felt better for having done it. She looked better after.

"Go to sleep, Hermione," he murmured, tucking her back against his damp chest. "You must be nearly as exhausted as I am."

And to his great relief, she only nodded her head and clung to him, the little Notebook gripped in one small fist.

Severus rearranged the blankets and sheet so that they were both well covered, then closed his eyes again.

She tastes like heaven, too, was his last thought before sleep reclaimed him.

SS~HG

Severus wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but it was dark outside by the time he opened his eyes again. He felt more refreshed and more alert than he had in days. If not for needing the loo, he would have been content to remain wrapped around – and wrapped in the arms of – Hermione Granger.

Just thinking about the witch he was holding alerted something other than his mind. Even with sleep-creases on her cheeks and a hideous shroud masquerading as sleepwear, she managed to move him. Knowing that his growing problem would only interfere with gaining relief for the older, more pressing problem, he deemed it best to leave the bed before things got out of hand.

"Now you want to work," he scolded his troublesome tadger. "Well, you'll just have to wait! At least till she wakes. More likely, for ever."

Hermione murmured grumpily when he extricated himself from her embrace, but didn't wake.

It made sense to shower (and take care of that other need while he was at it) once he was up, and then to dress in clothes of his own. He emerged from the bathroom to meet the strongest test he'd faced since Tom Riddle's defeat.

The temptation to wriggle the little Notebook from her fingers, or even to take up the larger one she'd discarded on his bedside table proved almost stronger than his will.

Almost.

Rather than give in and risk losing whatever it was that was happening between them, he crept in stocking feet downstairs. Once there, he made his way to the alcove off his sitting room which housed his desk.

The search for an alternate meaning for "Abbas" took longer than he liked – most sites only confirmed the "severe" definition Fifty-five had admitted. But upon learning that the name might almost mean "the lion," he snorted aloud – Sneaky little witch! – and moved on with the rest of his business on the internet.

Finding the page he'd long ago bookmarked didn't take long, and he was three chapters into the old favourite when he heard Hermione approach the alcove where he kept his computer. He suspected she'd been in a bit of a panic when she'd awakened to find him gone, and the thought of her gasping for breath while frantically scanning the room made him smirk.

"You haven't gone. Thank god!"

Having decided allowing her to suffer a bit longer wouldn't go amiss (The lion, indeed!), he spared her only the briefest of glances before returning his attention to the words on the screen.

"Yes, I'm still here," he replied without looking her way again.

"Well, erm..." She faltered for a moment.

I wonder, Granger, are you chewing your lovely lower lip?

"Well, then maybe we can assume this means it's really over," she offered. "Whatever it was, I mean," she continued. "Erm, maybe..."

He did turn again then, pinning her with what he knew was a look intent and intense enough to make her squirm where she stood.

And she squirms so nicely, doesn't she? Pity she's not absolutely sure she's annoyed me again.

"Miss Granger," he began, stifling a grin; a wrong-footed Granger was too delicious not to enjoy, but letting her know he took pleasure in her discomfiture would likely scuttle his plans... "Have you ever actually read any of Wildcat's fan fiction?"

She stopped squirming to step closer (Thank all that is good and holy!), saying, "Of course I have. I've read her entire oeuvre!"

Mustn't give myself away. Not when I have her where I want her: on the defensive!

"In that case, did it never occur to you that Spock never 'travelled' spontaneously?"

He gestured her even closer so she could see the part he'd highlighted. Absently, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She settled there as if she'd been doing so for years, bracing her elbows on the old wooden desk and leaning forward to read.

The Etrian touched the small device, and Spock saw that she was communicating telepathically just as the captain had done in the first universe.

Suddenly, the dizziness returned. Spock closed his eyes briefly, and when he looked up again, he saw that the Etrian team had changed. He also saw that in Kirk's place sat Uhura. Exceedingly relieved to see her alive and well, he nevertheless raised an eyebrow when he looked closer at her uniform and found a captain's insignia. And when he glanced at his own insignia, he found the bars of a commander.

Fascinating. Could the jump from one universe to the next be tied to the Etrians' communication devices?

SS~HG

His revelation – observation, whatever – had the desired effect. Eventually.

"I don't know." Hermione was slumped in one of the shabby armchairs in the sitting room proper. Seated too far away in a matching chair, Severus missed the weight of her on his legs. He hoped she was also missing the closer contact. "I wish I could say it was over, but we haven't figured out what started you travelling in the first place," she said. "I mean, even if, as you say, it's not spontaneous... We don't even know who's doing this or why. Who knows how long this will last? It might be for ever, or you could be snatched away in the next instance."

The sadness he saw in her face made his stomach twist in a whole new way.

"I know."

She sat forward, face brightening at his words. "You do?" Then, "How?"

Snape sneered. Infernal Gryffindor optimism!

"I don't know whether this is the end," he explained, hoping to stave off any further displays undue enthusiasm, "but I think I know how it began. I'm sure of it."

Hermione leant back again, this time frowning and tense.

"Well, of course you know how it began. We've explained all that, even if it took a..."

"No," he interrupted. "I mean I believe I've worked out why Two Seventy-four and I were included in this round of travelling."

A/N: I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Star Trek fanfic writer, Wildcat, for not only writing A Roll of the Dice, the inspiration for this story, but also for encouraging me to write this one and allowing me to quote her exquisite story. Thanks so much, Wildcat!

In private games of craps, to "fade" or to "fade [someone]" is to bet against the shooter.