23: Rung Ten – Him

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23: Rung Ten – Him

September 30th, 3:05 pm

"Albus, really, this grows ridiculous. I must leave at once." I stand as if to give more force to my statement.

"There's no rush, Severus." He leans forward in his armchair, nose seeming to brush the inside front of the canvas. "I have it on very good authority that Hermione is also somewhat detained at present."

Pacing from one tartan-covered wingback to the next, I sigh and find myself running a hand through hair that would be disarrayed were it not for its rather lifeless character.

Even as a portrait, his ability to see and know all is annoying.

His subsequent chuckle borders on infuriating. "I notice you seem agitated. You're not anxious to see her, are you?"

My glare provides him adequate information for his guffaws to continue. Once he is again under control, he says, "Now, Severus, there's nothing wrong with admitting to your feelings for Hermione. She's an amazing person."

Bloody hell! How does he know?

"Really, Albus," I drawl in an attempt to make my voice as bored and disdainful as possible. "I do not see where it is any of your business as to the nature of my relationship with Professor Granger. Besides which, I really must be going."

"I know your meeting time was pushed back due to the birthday celebration for Nymphadora. In fact, if you are so concerned about missing Hermione's return, I will be able to tell you exactly when she enters Hogwarts's grounds." His self-satisfied smile is as annoying as ever.

"Manipulative old codger," I mutter loudly enough for his apprehension while concomitantly resuming my seat.

"And," he continues as if he did not hear me, "Minerva will not need her office even once this afternoon – she's off giving her speech: 'It's a Magical World, Not Just a Wizarding One.' She's on right after Arthur. I highly suspect the members of the Wizengamot didn't know what they were letting themselves in for – it is, after all, supposed to be their annual mixer instead of a political rally."

I find myself chuckling along with him. "More the fools, them. What is she specifically campaigning for on this occasion?"

He waves his healthy hand in a sweeping gesture. "She wants them to finally remove that dreadful Fountain of Magical Brethren from the atrium of the Ministry."

"You mean the abomination parading as artwork comprised of an insipid Quidditch-player sort being gazed upon adoringly by other magical creatures?" I snort and feel my lip curl disdainfully. "I must agree that it is long overdue to be melted down for cauldrons. It is beyond me as to why it was ever reconstructed."

"Indeed. Her argument is similar, even if worded somewhat more tactfully."

My sneer alters to a smirk, and I allow a hint of fondness to enter my voice. "Yes, quite the politician, our Minerva."

"It's actually the main reason I was able to get rid of the other Head Professors so easily." He gestures at the empty frames lining the walls. "There's nothing quite like watching politicians outplayed at their own game."

Our combined laughter richly fills the otherwise empty room.

As he leans back and settles more comfortably into his armchair, his eyes take on the cunning gleam that invariably indicates he is about to change topics to one I will be less pleased to discuss. "Now, Severus, about Hermione –"

"Albus, I really do not know by what means you have formulated this preposterous notion of the state of the relationship existing between Professor Granger and myself."

"Severus, you've seen me every day for a month now, and for the past fortnight, you've spoken of her upon every occasion."

"In case your paint-addled faculties were unable to notice, I feel duty bound to remind you that she does happen to be my research partner." I grace him with my fiercest snarl. "We are colleagues – nothing more."

Nothing more, damn it.

"Ah, but it is more than the frequency – it is also how you speak of her, the note of longing in your voice." His expression grows serious, and he leans forwards once more. "You must remember that I've known you for over thirty years, Severus. How could I not deduce your affections?"

"My affections, if there should indeed be any, would not be nearly enough for us to qualify as having a relationship!" Abruptly, I find myself standing, hearing the echo of my vociferation resound around the circular room. It temporarily smothers the sound of the furious pounding of my heart.

Good show, old man. He is undoubtedly thrown completely off course.

I snort at my own rather pitiful attempt at sarcasm and turn my back to him. Merlin knows what expression my countenance evinces. Walking to Minerva's desk, I spread faintly trembling hands upon it and lean forward, applying weight to them. As I stare downwards, the wood's glossy surface seems to reflect the visage of another.

Hermione!

Her face is before me as it appeared all month during those moments when she seemed unaware that anyone could be scrutinizing her – a face grown increasingly introspective as time passed. Ever more often I observed her gazing contemplatively upon a blank wall, lower lip mauled to a brilliant red. Initially, upon the occasions that she happened to notice my watchful regard, she gazed upon me neutrally for scant moments before turning her attention elsewhere. Then her perusals became more frank as they concomitantly increased in duration.

I know not what to make of it.

Could the loss of her affiliation with Weasley truly be so traumatic that she requires such an inordinate amount of time for recovery?

Or has she reached her verdict and found against me yet hesitates to voice as much?

Her countenance fails to provide answers.

Yet I will not – must not – force the situation again.

Even our research meetings have been suspended – communication reduced to little more than the briefest of notes exchanged via owls, stilted greetings in the staff room and corridors.

Until today that is.

Today she will have to speak to me, even if only of trivialities.

Since when have the results from St. Mungo's been trivialities?

I let slip another snort.

"Severus," Albus voices quietly from behind me, "dear boy, do you not think it time to speak of it?"

Sighing, I pivot to face him once more.

His eyes no longer gleam with mischief and instead evince concern, indicating that he will not allow this topic to be disposed of anytime soon.

"If you so insist." Even I can hear the resignation in my voice, but at least the remainder of my physicality falls once more under my full control: face neutral, breathing and heart rate normal, hands steady.

Returning to my accustomed chair, I allow myself to fully rest against its back for the first time this afternoon. "Well, Albus. What is it you wish to know?"

Grinning in triumph, he replies, "Why not start at the beginning?"

The beginning? When I mouthed and fingered her cunny until she almost lost consciousness above me?

I snort.

Best not tell the old coot that precisely.

"Very well. I renewed my acquaintance with Hermione at the Order's 2nd Annual Victory Celebration. We exchanged ... words at that time, but it was not until she joined the teaching staff here that I came into closer contact with her." I catch myself before forming a smirk. "In fact, it was exactly a year ago today that I approached her about collaborating on the Wolfbane project."

"And?"

"And what, Albus?"

He fails to answer beyond waving me to continue.

Another sigh. "Very well, then. She is brilliant – intelligent, intuitive, innovative. She is everything one could ask for in a partner."

"Simply a research partner, Severus?" Signs of mischievousness once more spark in his eyes.

My answering glare serves to send him into peals of laughter.