Will

Summary: She's back. He's back. And so's he.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Corazon ~ wishing you a speedy recovery! *hugs* Thanks to Luna305 for being an exacting beta.

"No matter what is happening between us, Hermione, you and I are not the main actors."

She thought about that for a moment, and then he saw resolve grow in her eyes, in the set of her jaw. "Oh, yes, we bloody well are."

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She was one day old, and she was growing as fast as she could. And everything itched abominably.

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Severus was stunned. "'Yes, we bloody well are'?" he repeated. "Hermione, it doesn't work that way."

"Severus," she said sternly, "the end will be about Harry and Voldemort. Fine." She waved her hand dismissively. "Harry will do what Harry will do, Voldemort will do what Voldemort will do, and meanwhile the rest of us will... what? Lie about like Puffskeins, hoping we get stepped on at the proper time? Host an elaborate drown-our-sorrows fest? Skulk in the shadows, bowed, not broken, dignified, courting and cursing our own meaningful ends?"

His eyebrows had been edging upwards since the word "Puffskeins"; now they seemed to be permanently lodged in his hairline.

"Thank you, no. There are ways around all of these Indemnities. Dumbledore would not be bloody twinkling unless he thought so. He loved us, Severus - all of us, maybe especially you – yes, you. You are absolutely the kind of infuriating creature he would take perverse delight in loving."

Perverse?

"Yes, perverse. No, Severus, not Legilimency. I've spent the last six years of my life decoding your face, Harry's sulks, Ron's moods, and Dumbledore's wise, cryptic nonsense. I read Professor Umbridge, and Cornelius Fudge, and knew it was a trap at the Ministry. I have been wrong once - once - when I was eleven years old." She paused for breath, rattled; she'd been wrong about him and the Sorcerer's Stone – but she wasn't going to tell him that.

She didn't need to; his lips were already twitching and his eyebrows were slowly re-accustoming themselves to gravity.

"This is insane, Severus, absolutely insane. For six years I've been assimilating into a world I didn't bloody well know existed. Why do you think I read every bloody book in the library? And now I'm stuck in this house - "

And his eyebrows shot up.

"With you, my former teacher,"

He flinched.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "It's a little late to flinch, Severus. Really." And she was off again, up, away from the table, hands on her hips. "You know damn well I'm falling in love with you and I know damn well why you can't say the same in return. You've been using yourself, Severus - you, who've been used by everyone, what's one more? - using yourself as bait, to trap my mind, my heart, my soul, and my - " Just say it, Granger.

Restraint, Snape...

"... and my body, and it's worked, oh, gods, how, and I've fallen, - "

Glorious, his thoughts groaned.

" – completely, irrevocably, and it's wrong, and I love it, and I love you, and it doesn't matter, because I'm going to die, you're going to die, we're all going to be dead because no one will say his name, or your name, or that prophecies are absolute bunk – just excuses masquerading as explanations. A grand inevitable plan, a sop to everyone's cowardice. 'I don't have to do anything; the Chosen One will do it for me, poor dear boy.' Which is just letting Voldemort's choices dictate reality because it's easier than thinking." She snorted. "Sheep," she said with distaste, then turned, eyes aflame, "Well bloody hell, Severus, but who are the current architects of that grand plan now? Who? I ask you!"

He felt it would be prudent at this juncture to say nothing.

"We are, Severus. We are." A sweeping gesture, encompassing him, Tayet, their notes, the books, themselves. "We have all the pieces – I know we do – it's the way Dumbledore's mind works – and the way you were counting on mine working. Don't question faith, Severus, not when it's standing right in front of you."

Tayet crowed triumphantly.

"All I wanted was to go to school. To learn. It's what I do. And I learn very, very quickly." she spat finally, and glared at him.

One eyebrow this time.

"Stop that. You know what I mean."

"Indeed. That does not, however, negate my response."

"Don't distract me. I'm about to make a grand pronouncement."

Of this he had no doubt. He did, however, hold the thought of distracting her in reserve, and not too far in reserve, either. She was really quite spectacular.

She turned on her heels and sped to the kitchen.

What? Blast. He went after her, demanding, "What are you doing?"

"Taking this war to Voldemort, Severus," she informed him, as if she were late for the Hogwarts Express and the First Years were running amok on Platform 9 3/4.

"What?" He lengthened his stride.

"I'm Flooing Minerva... "

He stopped in front of Mrs. Black's frame. He, Mrs. Black, and Phineas Nigellus exchanged a look, a look that required no translation because it had not changed in centuries – the look of Slytherins in the presence of a rampaging Gryffindor.

Tayet zoomed into the hallway.

"... and then I'm..."

The kitchen door swung closed behind her, and he was through it like a shot. "And then you're what?"

Thud. Tayet hadn't flown fast enough.

Hermione looked at him with another look that had not changed in centuries, a particularly Gryffindor look, though only seen rarely from the males of the house. It was the look she had given Draco Malfoy. Once.

Draco would run before it, now, although he would seem outwardly to be walking.

Severus was not Draco. He closed the distance between them, captured her lower back with his hand and pressed himself against her. Very quietly, he said, "You were saying?"

"And then I shall burst into flames if you don't kiss me," she smiled. That smile.

He laughed throatily. "Floo Minerva." He dropped his voice and hissed one word into the skin behind her ear. "Hurry." He caught her skin between his teeth closed them, sharp, not painful, and she felt his tongue on her skin and –

- her hands flew to his arms, clenched, hard -

- then she pushed him away.

"Oh, I will, Severus. I will." Her eyes searing, slow, before she turned to reach for the Floo powder. "One thing."

A rumbling sound that she took for an affirmative.

"Do you know where you can lay your hands on Peter Pettigrew?"

It was definitely not the way he had hoped that question would end.

A very aggrieved looking Tayet appeared and landed on the table. She glared at the kitchen door, glared at Severus, rustled her wings, and preened her tail feathers.

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"Headmistress?"

Minerva looked up from her paperwork at the sound of Hermione's voice from her private quarters. Rising from her desk, she hurried to the hearth.

"Miss Granger? What is it, child?"

"Is Hagrid okay?"

"Yes, he and Grawp are both – how did you know?

"Would you please ask Professor Dumbledore's portrait to join us?"

Minerva looked at Hermione sadly. "He's still slee - "

"He's faking. Tell him, please, that if he doesn't join us I would be happy to make a full report in his absence."

Minerva hurried into her office, casting an apprehensive look over her shoulder at Hermione.

Severus sat down beside Hermione with a mug of coffee and ran a fingertip lightly along the line where her jeans met her ankle. She batted at his hand. Tayet trilled.

Minerva returned, completely ruffled, and Dumbledore appeared in one of the frames on the wall behind her. Minerva was staring at him, and he was staring at Hermione. Neither one looked particularly happy.

"Excellent. Thank you, Headmistress. Thank you, sir."

He nodded, but said nothing.

Minerva finally sputtered, "How long have you been awake?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, and Severus' hand trailed higher on Hermione's leg. Severus squeezed her calf, and traced an idle fingertip lightly back down to her ankle. She smacked him on the thigh. He smiled into his coffee.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that will have to wait."

Both professors stared at Hermione.

"Professor Dumbledore, you are aware of the Indemnities, yes?"

He nodded.

"Are you aware that I have finished the list?"

He nodded again. "Phineas Nigellus..."

"Yes, of course he would have."

"Finished it!" Minerva said, shocked. "So quickly?"

Hermione sighed inwardly, and asked Dumbledore, "Are you aware of the workarounds?"

Minerva drew herself to full height. "You've found a way?!"

"Two. So far. The inanimate Horcruxes. Yours and Molly's."

Minerva's hand fluttered to her chest and she groped behind her for the nearest tangible object. Her hand came to light on a bookshelf, on which rested a picture of a family. Hermione couldn't see their faces clearly, and she didn't want to.

Dumbledore regarded Hermione with keen interest, but he did not seem surprised. "So, Miss Granger," he began.

Following the line where her jeans met her lower back, Severus drew a light, slow, deliberate line on Hermione's back. Then his fingers brushed her wrist, then her ankle, then his hand pressed firmly on her right hip.

"Excuse me for a moment, please."

Minerva's hearth was empty, and she turned to Dumbledore's portrait.

"How long have you been awake, and why haven't you told me? And how does Miss Granger know?" Her features expressed equal parts relief and disapproval, and the lines etched on her face showed that this particular two-part response was one of much use and long familiarity.

"All in good time, Headmistress," he inclined his head slightly. "All in good time." He regarded her hearth serenely. "Which should arrive rather shortly, if I read our good Miss Granger correctly."

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"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed.

"I should have thought that was obvious," Severus replied, dark eyes moving over her face with a promise of what would follow.

"Not now."

And his eyebrow raised again. A challenge. Delightful.

As Hermione returned to the Floo, his hand was on her back, sweeping around her waist, hand opening on her stomach, his thumb caressing minutely, slowly, but inexorably upward. He set down his mug and came to his knees, his other palm flat on her back, following the muscles of her spine, fingers curling around her ribcage...

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"Professor Dumbledore, if you would be so kind as to outline the list to the headmistress, I would be most appreciative."

"Miss Granger, I must insist - " Minerva began.

"Let her finish, Minerva," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Pettigrew. We need to find Peter Pettigrew. Quickly."

The former headmaster smiled quietly. "Well done, Miss Granger."

Minerva's nostrils were flaring but she had the sense to keep quiet, for now.

"Stop that," Hermione said, irritably.

"Miss Granger!" Minerva protested.

Laughing suddenly, Hermione said quickly, "I'll report back in the morning," and her head vanished from the hearth.

Minerva frowned and turned to Dumbledore's portrait, palms out in exasperated helplessness. "The girl is overwrought, Albus. And you," she began, eyes frosty behind her square-rimmed spectacles, "owe me an explanation."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. He was already editing his response.

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"You bastard!" she yelped, jerking back into Severus' arms and twitching away from his fingers. "Tickling me, during a conversation like that!"

"Pain is not the only distraction, Hermione. And the two of them have much to discuss."

She twitched, anticipating more tickling. He chuckled, but his hands stilled, possessive, strong, unmoving.

Pulling her to him, sudden, almost roughly, he warned, "I will not promise to stop, Hermione, not when your skin is alive to my wish." Holding her close, he turned his attention to the top button of her blouse. "So many buttons. So little time. No man alive could resist..."

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If either "man" or "alive" really applied, there was one who could, and he was in the park across the street from Number 12 Grimmauld Place, red eyes scanning the row of houses, seeking, sensing... he could almost taste her... somewhere close... somewhere very close... somewhere...

"Wormtail," he whispered, eyes unblinking, still sweeping the houses. "Your arm..."

He reached out the tip of his wand.

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In the kitchen, Severus hissed in pain.

Hermione's eyes were enormous. "Again?"

"Not a warning," he gasped. "Now." In one smooth movement, he was masked and gone.

Tayet screamed.