A Day of Peaceful Plotting

Hermione was weighing the importance of resting versus eating when Professor Snape finally woke. He seemed very weak, and she could've kicked herself for not feeding him before leaving to look for water that morning. That, however, would soon be amended. Gathering up the crock and a recently transfigured spoon, she headed for the pallet.

Sitting down, she asked, "How are you feeling, Professor?"

"I imagine I'll survive," he replied wryly, sitting up with difficulty. Hermione rushed to help him, transfiguring some cushions so he could lean back comfortably. He snorted in amusement. "It seems decidedly odd to suddenly find such comfort in the wilderness."

As he sat up, the blanket fell slowly to puddle at his waist, baring his chest. It was a long moment before Hermione could tear her eyes away from the dark triangle of hair revealed, forcibly stopping herself from following the trail leading down to disappear beneath the blanket. While she was thus distracted, Severus regarded her face intently. By the time she looked up, he'd masked his face in an oblivious expression and was idly fussing with the blanket. Observing her frank appraisal had left him feeling flushed, but he thought it tactical to fake a shiver.

Hermione couldn't believe she'd been gaping like a wanton at her professor. Thank heaven he hadn't noticed! When she finally gathered her wits about her, she was mortified to see him shiver with cold. "You must be freezing, sir!" she exclaimed. Transfiguring him a nightshirt, she helped slip it over his head.

Face covered in nightshirt, Severus allowed himself a small smirk.

Hermione fed him the soup by hand, while he pretended to protest irritably. It amused him that no matter how churlish he behaved, she would merely roll her eyes and pop another spoonful of soup into his complaining mouth. Twice he'd stopped himself from chuckling aloud at her expression. When the soup was finished, he decided to stop his teasing, at least for the moment.

"Miss Granger, I shall be forever grateful for your coming to my rescue; however, I admit that I am baffled by how you managed to find me."

He covertly watched her hips sway as she crossed to her pack, fetching an object for his inspection.

"I made a compass attuned to you, sir," she explained, handing him a round, palm sized object. He examined it avidly, noting, as he held it, how the needle spun in lazy circles.

"I take it that when I am not in possession of the compass the needle points out my direction?"

"Exactly," Hermione replied with a proud smile.

Unable to hold his curiosity in check a moment longer, Severus asked her to explain how she came to create it. Hermione obliged, and when she reached the point of explaining how she'd used his handkerchief, she was forced to admit her burglary of his office.

Outwardly Severus scowled. In truth, he was deeply impressed she'd broken the wards on his potions cabinet. It was almost...Slytherin...of her.

"Please keep in mind, sir, that you'll have to get Headmaster Dumbledore to reinstate me if you wish to get me expelled," she responded, with a charming roll of her eyes. He couldn't help it; he chuckled. She seemed momentarily taken aback by the sound, but after a brief grin, she threw herself back into her explanation. When she began to explain the Arithmancy portion of the spellwork, Severus expressed interest in seeing the equations.

The scroll containing her notes was still in her pack. As she retrieved it, she said, "I would enjoy hearing your reaction to it, sir. I considered asking Professor Vector to check it over but...er..." Trailing off mid sentence, Hermione blushed, her head dropping in embarrassment. Reaching out a single finger, Severus placed it firmly under her chin and brought her face up until she met his eyes.

"Miss Granger," he said seriously, "I am well aware of your brilliance. It is hardly difficult to imagine there are times when the work of the student surpasses the ability of the teacher. I am unsurprised that you have done work that is beyond Professor Vector's comprehension. I rather doubt that I will understand all of it myself. That being said, I will thank you not to be embarrassed by your intelligence again in my presence." The finger dropped, but Hermione eyes did not. She gazed at him a moment, eyes wide. Professor Snape had offered her backhanded compliments before, but never had he spoken so plainly.

Without further ado, she gave him the scroll and they spent the next few hours discussing it with vigor. Reaching one particularly complex equation, Severus quieted, slipping deep into thought. Bowing his head, eyes closed, hands steepled, and extended index fingers lightly touching his lips, he concentrated. It was almost as if he'd fallen into a trance. Waiting patiently, Hermione found herself staring where fingertips met lips. Knowing it was but a habit of thought, she still found the pose strangely provocative. For once, Severus' action was not the carefully calculated action of a Slytherin; nor was his next word premeditated.

"Hermione..." The girl in question flinched, both from the sudden sound and from the joy of her name from those recently contemplated lips. "I begin to grasp the theory," Severus continued, opening his eyes, "though I am not up to understanding the math involved. You should consider sending the work to an Arithmancy Master for further input."

"I have considered it," she replied, "though Arithmancy Masters are even more difficult to find than Potion Masters. Since Einstein and Heinlein have died, I believe the only one is Stephen Hawking. Master Hawking is so involved with his American Muggle projects I doubt he would make the time to read a student's work."

"I am acquainted with Master Hawking, and would be pleased to send him a letter of introduction. I am certain he would be interested in your work."

Hermione was gobsmacked. First, her normally surly Professor had complimented her, now he was offering to write letters for her? Severus Snape never wrote letters on behalf of a student! Today there must be pork in the trees and popsicles in hell. Finally she managed, "That would be most kind of you, Professor."

With a characteristically disdainful snort, Severus replied, "Kindness has nothing to do with it, Miss Granger. This work deserves to be read. You will undoubtedly end up with a journal article published about it." He regarded her intently. "What do you intend to do after graduation?"

"Before I was expelled, I intended to go to University."

"You will graduate, Miss Granger. Rest assured. On what subject do you intend to focus?"

Hermione blushed, but answered honestly, "I intend to do a double concentration in Arithmancy and Potions." Severus was secretly pleased by her interest in potions, but he wasn't sure it was wise.

"Miss Granger, I do not think it advisable for you to include potions in your concentration." Watching her face fall, he continued, "Do not mistake me. Your potions work is exemplary, and if you wish to continue it-- in a curtailed capacity--you will have my every support. However, I believe you should focus on Arithmancy. You have the makings of a Master; it would be a great pity to waste such skill." He noted the transparent look of disbelief on her part. "Miss Granger, I believe we've already discussed my displeasure in your ridiculous Gryffindor modesty. Do try to pull yourself together."

"I...I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, "It's only that I've never imagined doing such a thing."

Severus sighed in exasperation. "The work you've done on this 'Snape compass,' as you horridly call it, is the work of a Master. That is why you will have trouble finding anyone else to comprehend it. There is more to being a Master than education, memorization, and simple intellect. One has to have an almost intuitive knack for the subject. It is quite possible that Masters are not made, but born. In potions, for example, one could memorize every potion known to wizards, have a basic knowledge of the process of experimentation, and have moderate success, without ever achieving Master. What has made me a Master of Potions is that I have an innate ability to know what reactions will occur when I combine new ingredients. It is this quality that I see in your recent work."

Even in their "fake detention" discussions, Hermione had never heard him speak at such length. Noticing he was growing tired, she said, "I will consider what you have said--very seriously. Some nurse I am, I'm wearing you out! It's more soup for you and then you need to get some rest."

Amused, Severus allowed Hermione to fuss over him. He was grateful when she eventually removed the cushions and helped him to recline. A murmured "thank you" and he was asleep.

**********************************

Severus woke to find the late afternoon sun barely filtering through the trees. Casting a soft warm glow down to the bit of path they camped on, it revealed an engaging picture. Hermione sat propped against a tree, head tilted back to expose a long delicate neck, an abandoned book in her lap. She was fast asleep. Severus turned onto his side, and propping his head up with one arm, watched her. His eyes turned soft and warm with rarely revealed affection, and he was quickly lost in thought.

Whatever was he going to do with the charming minx? His calculated gambits earlier had proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was attracted to him. That seemed inexplicable, but he couldn't deny what she, in her naiveté, had made so obvious. Equally obvious, sometimes uncomfortably so (he shifted restlessly beneath the blanket), he found her attractive as well. His eyes wandered freely over the sleeping woman. Her hair was a capricious tangle of cinnamon curls. Free of Hermione's usual attempts to tame it, the long, wild, locks framed her slender neck, falling over her shoulders, ends resting just above her generous breasts...it would be easy to walk over and thrust his hands into that lush mass. He shifted under the blanket again. Without his awareness, one of his hands crept down the blanket to rub idly against the source of his discomfort. Hermione stirred--Severus' hand sprang away from its recent employment, and a quick redistribution of the blanket covered his discomposure. Trying to calm himself, he mentally recited the ingredients of the Draught of Peace. Opening her eyes, Hermione raised her arms to stretch her cramped back. Potion ingredients forgotten, eyes straying to her breasts, Severus felt himself grow harder. Damn! He needed a subtle stratagem to distract her long enough to deal with this...untimely situation.

"Hermione," he began, thinking hurriedly, "I wonder if you could do me a small favor?" Mind straying to exactly what 'favor' he most wanted at that moment, it took every effort of his will to keep his features calm.

"How may I assist you, sir?" she replied with a cheerful smile.

'How indeed?' he thought. Aloud, he continued, "I wonder if I may impose on you to take a short walk down the path? I need to...er...use the facilities, and I don't think I'm quite up for a walk yet." Blast! It was neither elegant nor subtle, but he was a bit distracted.

Turning a becoming shade of pink, Hermione readily agreed. When she asked him to call her when finished, the mental image of him calling her name as he came almost caused the event right then and there. Managing to wait until she was well out of sight, he rose and walked a short way into the wood.

One hand propped against an oak, one hand plunging beneath the nightshirt, he was in such a state that a few strokes left him biting his lip to keep from crying out as he came, suddenly splashing the smooth bark. Resting his head against the tree, he waited for his panting to diminish. Eventually, the tree was used again, this time for the less enticing reason he'd given Hermione, and he then called to her as he returned to the pallet.

The remainder of the evening passed readily enough with food and discourse. When Severus lay back to sleep, he assumed Hermione would make another place for herself. He was both pleased and disconcerted when she took her odd Muggle boots off and climbed in with him. The little temptress! Severus knew she was a Gryffindor, but he hadn't expected this type of bravery. Resigned, he allowed her to cuddle next to him as he tried to relax. It was a long time before sleep came.

****************************************

It was a long time before Hermione, too, found sleep. She'd been waging a mental battle all evening about where she would sleep that night. It would be more proper, more logical, and infinitely more cowardly to make another bed for herself. When the time came, she decided that, for once, she was going to be both brash and selfish, doing as she pleased. After all, without his wand, Severus was in no position to hex her. The worst he could do was order her out. Though he looked startled when she crawled in next to him without ceremony or warning, he'd not protested. At first, the body next to hers had gone stiff; after she curled close to him and closed her eyes, he'd eventually relaxed. Imagining a plethora of acts even more brave, Hermione finally fell asleep.

***********************************

He rose slowly out of ginger-scented dreams to find Hermione's body tangled about his own. His arms were around her, her head on his shoulder and her hair tickling his cheek. Her hand was wrapped about his neck; one leg enclosed between his own. Damn and blast! She would make a speedy end of his resolve if he wasn't careful. Having been so utterly distracted by her constant presence, he hadn't a moment's peace to make any sort of logical decisions about the situation. They should be able to start back to Hogwarts today...perhaps the journey would give him time to think. Severus slowly and gently began to extricate himself, trying not to wake her.

Hermione was already awake. It was a testament to Severus' utter distraction that he remained unaware of the fact. Knowing the moment he woke by the sudden tensing of the body so deliciously entwined with her own, she feigned sleep, hoping to see his reaction. After a moment, the tension had drained away with a quiet sigh. Surprisingly enough, he'd not leapt from the bed in alarm, but continued the embrace for a long moment. Raising her eyelids only slightly, she peered from under her lashes. Her left leg was thrown over one of his; her calf nestled between his knees, her bent knee resting on his thigh. Above her knee, she saw the blanket was tented in a way that left no doubt of his reaction to her. Hermione might not have much in the way of sexual experience, but she was not naïve. Between a little secretive reading and chats with the other seventh year girls, she at least knew what to expect. She took a long look at the proof of his arousal before closing her eyes.

'Why Professor Snape,' she thought, 'I'd no notion you cared!' He chose that moment to start carefully drawing away. Knowing she wasn't quite ready to throw herself at him, Hermione decided to at least push the envelope a smidgeon. Murmuring as if still asleep, she slid her hand slowly down his chest to his waist, turned her face up to snuggle into his neck, and raised her knee until it barely brushed his hard length. He went completely still. Hermione took that as a sign to push a bit more. Leaving her knee where it was, she snuggled a little closer, murmured again, and kissed his neck. He continued to lie as if unconscious but a soft groan escaped his lips. Knowing she could proceed no further (unless she was ready to leap off the metaphorical cliff); she at last took pity on the poor man. Pretending to stumble awake, she withdrew from him and opened her eyes with what she thought to be an innocent expression. Severus couldn't be faulted for, this time, not noting the transparency of the look.

"Good morning, Professor," she said cheerily. "Oh...I hope you will excuse me, I believe I shall take a walk and, how did you put it? Oh yes, use the facilities." With that she left the stunned professor and took herself off down the path.

Severus' 'facility' break came about much as his last, only this time Hermione's name escaped his lips in a breathless sigh.

Hermione's walk ended much the same way, only it wasn't her own name she whispered as she found her release.

Meeting again at camp, if either of them noted how long the other was gone, they made no mention of it.