Chapter Two

Chapter Two

--

Listening to the serene waves kiss the shore, Hermione Granger stared at a point on the horizon and willed her creative process to pour forth. But the lure of dusk was just too beautiful to ignore. Besides, she had plenty of time to work. She would be here for an entire month, uninterrupted and unimpeded by friends, family, and unwanted distractions.

Nothing could bother her here. It was impossible. The clean white sands sparkled as the last rays of sunshine surrendered to the rotation of the earth. As the sun set, the torches up and down the walkway lit. That was definitely a cue to go inside. Soon the mosquitoes would start biting.

Picking up her enchanted quill and notes, Hermione uncurled her legs and stood. She stretched, working the last of the kinks of her hectic life out of her shoulders, and started to walk toward the villa.

Now twenty-five, she counted her good fortunes with sincerity and gratitude. Not only had Harry vanquished Voldemort, but her friend had lived to tell about it. Hopefully, Harry would resign his role as hero and relax. Rounding up the Death Eaters was not his job. She was certain that, once he realized, Harry would finally wise up and make things right with Ginny -- one of her best friends and co-conspirators in creativity.

Molly Weasley was her other best friend and co-conspirator in creativity. Not that she had wanted to know all the gory details of her and Arthur's sex life, but the woman had a wealth of information that enhanced the sex scenes in her novels.

Her novels... They had all started out so innocently. As a field journalist for a Muggle magazine, Hermione had toyed with the idea of writing a novel. She'd had no intention of turning it into a series of romance novels. But after being injured on the job and doped up on drugs and potions, that's the way her stories had developed.

Her latest book, The Darkest Magic, had been the most difficult to write. All of the books were based on actual people in her life, couples whom she admired and envied. Of course, her first book, Eternal Magic, had been pure speculation. It still was speculation.

Although she had remained close to her mentor, Minerva McGonagall would never admit to having a relationship with Albus Dumbledore. The scandal would be too great. A lifetime of wasted opportunities was Professor McGonagall's only real crime – that and being way too overprotective of her.

Hermione visited often with the older witch, taking solace in returning to Hogwarts and reveling in any contact with Professor Snape. When Hermione had been recovering from wounds received in the field, she'd been cloistered in Gryffindor Tower under Minerva's watchful gaze.

The Animagus hadn't missed the subtle clues of Hermione's crush on Hogwarts' "unpleasant, unbending Potions master." As Minerva had run interference and had limited her exposure to her former Potions professor, Hermione had done everything she could to run into the surly wizard. After all, he had supplied the potions for her wounds.

It was too bad he did not have a "Get-Over-Your-Silly-School-Girl-Crush" Potion. The man despised her. He had made that perfectly clear with his sneering comments and the "You-are-no-longer-my-student-why-must-I-even-deal-with-you" glare.

Just like Harry, Hermione had become addicted to adrenaline. Her primary profession, that of a freelance journalist, had been very rewarding for her. She had been investigating the claims of a rogue giant in the massive jungles of Asia. The wizarding community of Ping-chu consisted of a rather small population. Although they had adhered to all International Wizarding Secrecy Conventions, there were not enough witches and wizards in the mostly Muggle village to fend the giant off, much less Obliviate all the villagers whenever it decided to pay a visit. So, in a very Harry-like bravado fashion, she went after the giant.

She had woken up two weeks later in the local hospital, lucky to remember who she was, much less be alive, after taking on a giant. Fortunately, the local Auror had found her. Her left leg had been pinned beneath a tree, and she'd had a large goose egg on her forehead. She still walked with a bit of a limp.

Making her way over the white, sandy dune, Hermione could see a shadowy figure pacing the length of the porch. Judging by the silhouette and the fact that only five people knew where she was, it had to be Ginny. Perhaps she was reconsidering the next book. After all, her and Harry's story did not have a happy ending. At that thought, Hermione gave a derisive snort. At least Ginny had "been" with Harry, whereas Professor Snape didn't even know she existed.

Hermione approached the nervous figure and prepared for a brainstorming session. If Ginny didn't want Hermione to write about her and Harry, she would have to consult her notes and pick another couple. Wiping the sand off her feet, she hobbled up the steps. "Hi, Ginny."

"Hermione!" the youngest Weasley shouted breathlessly. "Thank Merlin!" Ginny's hair and eyes were wild, and the soot on one of her shoulders told the story of the many Floo connections she had taken to get to the vacation villa.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, concern for their mutual friends and loved ones growing. "What's wrong?"

Grabbing Hermione by the shoulders, Ginny steered her to the nearest wicker chair. "You had better sit down."

A lump of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. I will remain calm. I will stay focused. I will stay in control. I will be supportive – no matter what.

"He knows!" blurted Ginny, kneeling in front of her best friend and holding onto her hands for support.

Hermione was puzzled. "I need more of a clue, Ginny," she said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Who knows, and what does he know?"

"Professor Snape!" Ginny jumped up and started to pace again. "He knows he's Simon! He hired Percy to represent him. He's suing Romance Rabble!"

Ginny's words were surreal, and it took a little time to digest what she had said. Was she asleep? Was she having some bizarre nightmare?

"Did you hear me?" Ginny snapped her fingers.

"Yes," replied Hermione, reality rudely seeping into her vacation-induced euphoria.

"What are you going to do?" Ginny stopped pacing and plopped into the chair opposite Hermione. "Romance Rabble can't afford a lawsuit. We can't even keep up with the demand. The Darkest Magic is on back order for four weeks. George and Fred can't keep up. Mum is working on her and Dad's story, which, by the way, I still think is a bad idea."

"You don't have to read it, you know," Hermione mumbled, automatically defending Molly's decision to write about her romance with Arthur.

"So what are you going to do?"

Ginny's question sent a wave of panic through Hermione. Standing, it was her turn to start pacing the length of the porch. "Let me get this straight. Professor Snape 'thinks' he's Simon. How did he find out? Surely he doesn't read 'dirty smut romance novels.'"

"Apparently he does," Ginny retorted.

Hermione gave her a severe look.

"Okay, he doesn't," she rescinded her remark. "Apparently some of his students had copies of the books. He confiscated them. It seems that some of his students have drawn the same conclusion – that Simon was modeled after him."

"That isn't a crime," Hermione argued. She could feel the embarrassment in her heated cheeks. Why had she ever listened to Molly and Ginny? How had she let them talk her into writing about her secret – now not so secret – crush? At least Molly and Ginny had been gracious enough not to tease her about it. Instead, they had fostered her creative effort, demanding that she pair Simon up with someone with a Muggle background. Molly had said it would be cathartic, exorcising Hermione's feelings for Professor Snape. But George and Fred had been relentless, teasing her about the unrequited love.

"I know!" Ginny supplied helpfully. "You could kill Simon off in the next book!"

Hermione winced.

"For that matter, you can kill Harry's character too. Have Voldemort's character win the war. You know, sexy, perverted stuff." Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"No!" protested Hermione. "You are sick. If you're having second thoughts, I could always write about Ron and Luna."

"Blech!" Ginny's opinion of reading about any of her family members in a romantic sense was well known. "Poor Luna. Ron's probably a real dud in bed."

"Ginny, will you please focus!" she scolded. "When did Professor Snape hire Percy?"

"Yesterday," came the reply.

"Okay." Hermione sighed, trying to put a plan together. "Whatever you do, don't piss Percy off. He's already fired you twice. You're in the prefect position to spy for us. Here's what I want you to do."

--

"I have filed the proper paperwork with the Ministry against Romance Rabble Incorporated," Percy stated with confidence. "We should be hearing from their counsel any day now. In the meantime, I did some investigating and found very little about the company. Apparently the owners are very secretive and like their privacy."

Severus nodded for Percy to continue. "Go on."

"Their company was founded three years ago with the publication of their first book, Eternal Magic. Unfortunately, their only properties are the series of books, up through The Darkest Magic. However, I am confident we will be awarded a substantial amount based on projected sales of the series."

"What about the author?" Severus asked. "I'd like to know who Miss Perdita Winters is so that I may wring her pretty little neck."

Clearing his throat, Percy took a sip of his drink. "It would seem that the author uses a pseudonym."

"And?"

"Well, I have a lead," Percy hedged. "I'm sending my investigator to follow up on it. Unfortunately, the expenses I am incurring will increase the fee and – "

"Mr. Weasley, has it not occurred to you that I do not give a damn about money?" Severus snapped. "I'm more interested in locating the author of these bloody books and stopping her from writing this rubbish. I will not endure another school year with impressionable, hormonal students. You can bloody well keep the money. Now what is the lead?"

Percy eyed him shrewdly, undoubtedly wondering if he could get him to sign a contract to that effect. "Well, there is a villa in the Caymans that has been leased to Romance Rabble Incorporated this month. I was going to send my investigator to –"

"I will go," he stated softly. "If Perdita Winters is there, then I will have the pleasure of ruining her summer vacation. It's the very least I can do."

--

Floating on the waves, Hermione pondered her predicament. Ginny had returned home, agreeing to be the best spy possible. After all, working for Percy had been one of those things that her friend had been doing off and on ever since graduation. It was a pattern. Percy would either fire her or she would quit. The end was always the same. Percy would beg Ginny to come back to him.

Poor Ginny. She wasn't exactly flighty, but she just hadn't found herself. She had spent so much time mooning over Harry. Their breakup had been anything but amicable. Months before Harry had defeated Voldemort, he had pushed Ginny away. Not easily deterred, Ginny had not given up until she had seen him with another witch.

Of course, Hermione knew that it had been a ploy – a ploy to distance himself from most everybody he had ever loved. Stupid git! But Harry had been determined to save the wizarding world. Molly had seen through this ploy too. But the Weasley wizards had seen it differently. They hadn't been able to see past Ginny's tears.

A wave jostled her out of her reverie, and she swam back to shore. It was so quiet. This was the way she preferred it – total peace. "I have to figure out how to give Ginny and Harry a happy ending. The readers aren't going to read a tragic romance. I wouldn't read a tragic romance," she mumbled.

The only response came from a lone seagull that had taken up residence along the beach.

"Oh, shut up," she groused and wrung the water from her hair. "And who asked you anyway? I'm well aware that I am ignoring my own problems."

The bird snapped its beak.

She shooed the bird away. "It's not as though Professor Snape is going to show up on my doorstep."

--

Walking down the gravel road, Severus cast a Cooling Charm on himself. He had his wand and the clothes on his back. It wasn't as though he was staying very long. He pushed some palm fronds out of the way and approached the house. It was a subdued pink – with two stories, a wrap-around porch, and so many windows it looked as though the house was made of glass. He could even see bits of the beach and ocean from the road. It was a popular vacation destination for wizarding families.

He watched as a seagull took to the sky, flying over the house and diving toward him. Reflexively, Severus grasped his wand, but it was too late. The bloody bird had deposited its load on his shoulder. "Morgana's tits!"

The bird flew high and away from him.

Severus stopped and surveyed the mess, quickly casting a Cleansing Charm and scowling toward the beach. He could see a shadow move on the pristine sand. It had feminine curves and errant strands of hair. A blasted column obstructed his view. There was no way he could see who the woman was unless he got closer.

Stepping onto the porch, Severus crept around the corner and slithered against the edge of the house, years of espionage guiding his stealth. The sun was high, casting prisms of light all around and obscuring his view of a group of lounge chairs where he heard a voice.

"...her stubborn chin. James flashed Virginia a mischievous grin.

"'Don't even think about it, Porter,' the redheaded witch spat, seething with anger as she shoved against the wizard's solid chest."

Severus cringed as he listened to the dictation and watched the enchanted quill scratched along the parchment.

"'And just what are you going to do, Virginia? Hex me?' He covered her hand with his and pressed it against his chest.

"She was helpless as she gazed into his green eyes,'" the dictation went on.

Glaring at the back of her head, he silently cursed the Fates, for he still couldn't make out any features. The sound of the woman's voice struck a chord deep within him. It was so familiar.

"'Can you feel what you do to me, Virginia?' murmured James as he captured a silken strand of her hair between his fingertips. 'Would it shock you if I moved your hand lower?'

"Scratch that last sentence," the woman huffed in frustration. "Somehow I doubt Harry would ever be that forward."

Pieces clicked together and staggered the normally stoic professor. James Porter? Harry? Virginia... another form of Ginny? That voice! Severus backed away to escape the putrid reality he'd discovered. When he was on the other side of the house, he Apparated to the end of the lane, tossing the name of Hermione Granger around in his head as if it were an obtuse concept.

"That little... witch!" Severus exhaled, forking his fingers through his hair. No only had she modeled the character of Simon after him; she had modeled the heroine after herself!

Years! He had suffered years with Potter, Weasley, and Granger in his class – seven years of Miss Granger's annoying thirst for knowledge. That bloody harpy had made his life a living hell for far too long. Yes, he could march right up to her and confront her, but he would gain little satisfaction in doing so. If anything, he needed revenge – revenge that would fit the crime!

--

TBC