Chapter 04

IV.

...

Reclining on her bed, where they had retired after finishing their supper, Severus massaged the fluffy cat sprawled along the flat plane of his torso. It was a position they had been in several times previously on this bed, albeit reversed. This time, he was the human and she was the feline. Before, it had been her fingers that stroked and scratched, ruffled and soothed. Now, it was his turn to make her melt and purr.

Since her bedroom was warm despite the windows being open to the evening air, he had removed his frock coat and waistcoat, leaving him in white shirtsleeves. And he had removed his shoes out of respect for her coverlet. He fully expected her to leave plenty of sheddings on his garments, but that was only fair; she had tolerated his own black hairs being scattered over her own things since the day she had picked him up in that alley, cradling him with the same gentleness he could now give back in return.

There was nothing sexual about the attentions he gave her; instead, it was purely sensual, or rather, sensuous, of the kind meaning an indulgence of one's senses. There couldn't be anything sexual about it, in two such disparate forms. But a part of Severus' mind refused to stop wondering what it would be like to stroke her human flesh, instead. There was nothing that a human male and a housecat female could do, but plenty of possibilities for a human male and a human female. So, as he rubbed her nape, rumpled her mane and tugged gently along the length of her tail, he found himself wishing she would accept these sorts of attentions in her regular form, and much, much more than just this.

A futile wish, of course. Severus had no illusions about how disliked he was by the vast majority of the wizarding world. How disagreeable he had been toward others, for most of his adult life. Including her. Some of that had been the need to push people away, to limit how many people would be around him long enough to realize he was leading a dual life, and to limit how many people would become potential targets themselves, should he ever be caught in a crossfire. Some of it had been stress, which was no wonder, given his career as a professor and a double-agent in a very nasty war. Some of it had just been a distaste for having to put up with those who weren't swift-witted enough in their thoughts to keep apace with him.

The fluffy brown-and-beige cat purring from abdomen to sternum was smart enough to keep up with him, he silently acknowledged. And he wasn't embroiled in a deadly war anymore. True, there were plenty of people who still hated his guts, and who would want to see said guts being used as his own lynching-rope...but that would be an attack coming from only one side. The war had left him hated and mistrusted on both sides for far too long.

Her didn't have to seek out another person's company; Severus had learned over the years how to live on his own, alone. Except he had discovered he liked Miss Granger. Enjoyed her company greatly. Enough that the thought of her good name being brought low, simply from being placed in conjunction with his own, was a thought he didn't care to contemplate.

If he tried to court her... The first and biggest obstacle to overcome, of course, would be her not laughing in his face. Or slapping him in the face. The next biggest obstacle after that would be everyone else reviling her for her taste in companionship. Even though that article had come out in the paper regarding his true allegiance, the one outlining the Wizengamot investigation and his subsequent pardoning in absentia, along with other articles slipped into The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler to further spread the word, he was still going to be persona non grata in the wizarding world.

If Hermione paired herself with him willingly, openly, the rest of their world would no doubt accuse her of being mad. Or drugged. He could very well be accused of 'slipping her something', given his history as a Potions Professor. Not that he could; he didn't have current access to a cauldron, let alone powdered mandrake root, oyster liqueur, the tears of a veela...

Actually, it was more like she had drugged him. Being kind to him; holding him; cuddling him. Petting him, while he had been in such a sensually vulnerable form as a felis domesticus. But almost no one would think of things from that direction.

She stretched, then shifted, standing up. Tolerating the weight of her paws on his stomach, he shifted his hands to follow her as she padded onto his upper chest, continuing to stroke and soothe and rub her flanks through her silky-soft fur. He was kneading her haunches when she shifted forward that last step...and licked him on the tip of his nose.

Startled, nearly cross-eyed from her proximity, Severus stared at her in shock. Hermione didn't know quite why she had done it, just that the urge had been there, and her feline nature had prompted her to indulge in the impulse. The way it clearly startled him was too appealing to ignore. Maybe it was because he had just spent nearly a full hour making her feel sooo good, but she did it a second time, feline eyes half-closing as she did so. He blinked at her.

Really, for such a beaky thing, his nose wasn't without a certain quirky appeal. Her tongue-tip rasped over his nose-tip a third time, making him cross his eyes again. How amusing!

Severus struggled to find his voice. "Hermione...what are you...?"

With all that practice from earlier and all of her current desire to back her now, Hermione screwed up her willpower and successfully Transfigured herself back into her human form. Thankfully, she shifted her limbs to either side of his torso; if she hadn't, she would have most likely cracked his ribs, if not outright crushed them. Within a span of no more than three startled heartbeats, he was straddled by a young witch clad in light blue shorts and a pale blue, short-sleeved blouse. Brown eyes stared down into black for a long moment, her arms and legs caging him in place.

Then she did it again. Licked his nose with the tip of her tongue. And giggled as he scrunched up his face. Oh, yes, it was even more fun when she did it in her human form!

"Hermione...!" Lips met lips, silencing his protest before it could emerge as more than a brief whinge. It was unexpected, it was soft and sweet, and not very demanding...and it was far better than merely nice.

It was so much better than nice, Severus found himself digging his fingers into her curls, sweeping his palms down her back...grinding his hips up into hers as her tongue flicked along the seam of his lips. She moaned against his mouth in reaction, writhing down onto his hardened flesh. The sound curled along his nerves, making him want her even more.

Grimacing, Severus shifted his hands to her ribs, pushing her up and back. Confusion creased her brow, for the move forced her to end the kiss. "...Why are you stopping us?"

Why, indeed... For a moment, Severus couldn't remember why. Not when the act of sitting up caused her loins to settled even more intimately over his pelvis. Yes, he still wore his trousers and she had on her shorts, but it was a very intimate position, conjuring primitive, primal images of her riding him, of him thrusting up into her, which reminded him that he had just admitted to himself that he liked her...very, very much.

Wincing again, Severus muttered tightly, "Because I am trying to respect you."

She blinked at him. Absorbed his words, visibly pondering his meaning. And smiled slowly, sinking back onto his chest with a faint but undeniable blush. That took the pressure off his loins, but it did bring the soft curves of her breasts into contact with the muscles of his chest. "I think that is the sweetest thing you have ever said to me, Severus Snape."

That earned her a scowl. "I am not sweet!"

"I didn't say you were sweet; I said that what you said was sweet," she corrected him with a frown of her own. It smoothed into a shy smile. "...I think I like this version of you."

"What version?" he asked her warily. Some of his suspicion dissolved when she stroked a lock of his black hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

"A softer, kinder Severus Snape." That earned her a dirty look. Hermione didn't take offense. Instead, she gave in to the same instinct that had made her lick his nose as a cat, and brushed her lips across his. "I didn't say soft, I said softer. You're not quite so high-strung, anymore, and I really like that. But 'snap' is still a part of your name, Mr. Snape...but then again, so is 'nape'."

Her fingers slid to the back of his neck, where they slipped under his shirt collar and massaged the tense muscles under his skin. Severus resisted for all of two seconds, but it was just too much like her fingers had rubbed and soothed his nape as a cat. Only this time, he was a fully human male. Combined with the tiny kisses she dusted across his mouth, it made him want to melt into her. He had been a hard man for most of his life, thanks to the circumstances of that life...but he was alive in a world without a Dark Lord, lying on a broad bed in a quiet cottage, draped with a warm and willing female.

He was only a man. But he was an honorable man. When she shifted to press little kisses up along his cheek, he managed a warning. "If you keep doing this...I will take you, Hermione. Man..." he shivered when her warm breath tickled the lobe of his ear, closing his eyes to control...or perhaps revel in...the sensation, "...to woman."

She'd never really been tempted, before now. Not in the ways of women and men, though she had kissed and groped a little in the past. Now, Hermione considered his words carefully, then nodded. "It's all right. I'm ready to go all the way."

Virgin.

In flaming ten-foot letters.

Severus' eyes snapped open, the concept burning in his mind. Given the Weasley family predilection for procreating all over the place, or at least attempting to do so, he had assumed that she had 'gone all the way' with the Idiot-Boy. On the one hand, he was relieved that she hadn't been treated to fumbling freckled fingers, ruining her expectations of what a good time in bed should be like. On the other, it was his fumbling digits that would have to introduce her to that concept.

Not to mention that, As A Virgin, flaming letters and all, she most likely wasn't taking a contraceptive potion. They hadn't even discussed the future, beyond getting him to shift his shape on his own...which admittedly they'd done...and getting him registered as an Animagus to keep him out of Azkaban, and continuing to get his work for the war-effort known by all, so that no one killed him. But beyond that...nothing.

He couldn't think, with her chewing delicately on his ear. With the same strength of will that had kept him alive for longer than she had been born, Severus pushed her to one side. Ignoring her soft protest, he rose from the bed, stepped carefully out of reach, and breathed deeply to regain control over his body. Which was voting for screwing the future in favor of screwing her.

He hadn't survived decades of war by giving in to impulses without at least some careful consideration, however.

Arms tightly crossed, he turned to face her. She looked like a cross between a cat and a siren, despite her all-human form, for she was half sprawled on her side, half on her stomach, one knee drawn up just enough to emphasize the satiny skin of her thigh. Virgin, he reminded his libido, and cleared his throat.

"Where do you, ah...see yourself, five years from now?"

Hermione stared at him, one brow quirking as high as it could go. That was a non-sequitur. "Where do I see myself, five years from now?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "What do you want your life to be like, in the future? How do you see yourself? Career, home...relationship?"

Hermione didn't quite believe her ears, for a moment. Severus Snape, saying the 'R' word? She blinked and considered his words. "I don't know. I really haven't considered it, yet. I mean, the war took up a fair chunk of our attention span, and there was always that Damocles' Sword hanging over our heads, of whether or not any of us would even survive..."

Since she was taking the question seriously, Severus made himself relax his arms and sit on the edge of her bed, angled so he could look at her comfortably. "What would you like to be doing?" At her curious look, he found himself adding, "I am the sort of man to meticulously plan my existence, to cover any and every possible contingency...yet I, too, am at a loss to know what to do next with my life. If I can do anything, considering most of the wizarding world still loathes my guts for what I had to do."

Not being an idiot, Hermione connected the two. "You want to know if this will just be a...a summer fling, or perhaps something more. Something to invest time and energy in. Something to plan for."

The heat warming his face felt uncomfortably like a blush. Severus ignored it. "Not just us," he stated, forging ahead despite the way his chest squeezed a little at that word, us. "How will you make your living? Do you plan to be an Auror? A Mediwitch? A shop clerk? Which would be a waste of your talents, even if you worked at Flourish & Blotts."

She smiled wryly at that. "Perhaps. Or I could take over for Madam Pince, in the Hogwarts Library...if she were ready to retire. I don't know... I honestly don't know, Severus." Twisting onto her back, Hermione allowed herself to deliberately contemplate the future. "I'm normally the sort to make a gazillion plans, too...just ask Ron and Harry about my insane studying schedules, back when I was in school.

"But, there's the rub, isn't it? I'm not in school. I never took my seventh year, never sat for the N.E.W.T.s. What decent-paying, interesting sort of career could I get, if I never got any N.E.W.T.s?" Twisting her head, she glanced at him. "What about you? If you'll forgive me for saying it, I don't think the board of directors will approve of you going back to the school to teach there. Certainly, you shouldn't go back to teach until all those who were in school when you...did what you had to do," she hedged delicately, "...have left the place. It would be easier to resume teaching if the students hadn't personally known you, in the past."

"I wouldn't go back anyway for a few years," Severus dismissed. "Not until it's proven that the Dark Lord's curse on the Defence position has been lifted with the finality of his demise. I don't want to be the sap selected to prove that theory, not after suffering it once already," he muttered. He ran one hand through his hair, thinking. "I do have my skill for potions-making. If I could afford to set up a lab, I could make a living selling brews to apothecaries, or perhaps a mail-order business. Under a company name, of course, to avoid the stigma of my own name. And perhaps do some research on the side..."

"Is that what you'd like to do, then?" she asked him.

"I'd prefer to be teaching the next crop of dunderheads how to protect themselves," he found himself confessing, making her blink. "It may be a year from now, or a decade, or half a lifetime, but another Grindelwald, another...Voldemort," he forced himself to say softly, "...is bound to rise up again. As Alastor used to say, 'constant vigilance'. That, and competent lessons in Defence against the Dark Arts, are the only things we'll have to save us, each and every time. But as you suggested, that's not a very likely option at the moment."

Hermione studied him quietly for a few moments, thinking. "I looked through your Potions textbook, you know. The one Harry used, our sixth year. I don't have the instinct for Potions that you have. I'm good; I know I am. I can make just about any Potion out there...but I don't have the instinct for it that you clearly have. Whether I worked for you, or for the twins, I'd be a helper, and not that much of a partner. Not in a research-and-development sense. I could do the work...but you'd have to tell me what to do," she sighed. "That doesn't add much to the creative process."

Severus didn't coddle her ego by protesting otherwise. She was good...at rote Potions-making. A conversation with one of his former fellow teachers prompted him to speak.

"No, you're not a natural at Potions, though I will admit that you can follow directions to a T," he admitted quietly. "But you are a natural at Charms; Filius admitted it himself. He was quite gleeful at the prospect of having you all the way through your seventh year, when you signed on to take your sixth year in it. There was even some speculation as to whether or not he should take you on as an apprentice, to teach you all that he learned in his dueling master years. Minerva, of course, was arguing for you to study Transfiguration, and there was some additional contention in the teacher's lounge regarding your future in Runes and Arithmancy."

"But not in Potions?" Hermione asked with a wistful, rueful smile.

He gave her a pointed look. "I'm certain Slughorn would take you on, these days. Just because you do not have an extra instinct for it does not mean you should look elsewhere for your employment."

"But you didn't discuss apprenticing me in any staff meetings."

"I could not have discussed the possibility, Hermione. Not even if you had a natural aptitude. For one, you were a Muggle-born...a Mudblood, if you will forgive the vulgarity," he apologized in an aside. "I couldn't favor one, and still maintain the pretense of being a follower of the Dark Lord. For another...you were a friend of Potter's. Two strikes against you," he reminded her.

"But the war is over," she stated.

"Yes...and we're going in circles. The war is over. Each of us needs to find a way to make our living," he agreed.

"You said you could do potion-making," Hermione reminded him, sitting up. She scooted a little closer to where he sat on the edge of her bed, too.

He gave her another pointed look as she squirmed closer. "Hermione, I was unemployed for a full year. My accounts at Gringotts were seized by the Ministry. For all they have pardoned me, they have not seen fit to restore my missing funds. In fact, if I hadn't performed the Fidelius Charm on my house straight away, I would have lost everything else in a Ministry raid. As it is, I had to sell some of my books over the last year, in order to pay for food."

She winced in sympathy at that. "Well...maybe it's just because they don't know where you are...?"

Severus sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Perhaps...but though I could and did craft a few potions for the other side, I would need a real laboratory in order to make a living at potions-making. The makeshift one I have in my home is utterly inadequate for serving the needs of a fully commercial venture, and even if I did get my vault restored...I didn't have enough to make myself a proper lab. Since I always had the one at the school, I spent all of my money on my books. I really do not want to have to sell any more of them if I can help it."

"I'm sorry you had to sell some of your books. I do understand," Hermione murmured. She reached across the space between them, touching his hand. From the way he glanced down, she suspected he wasn't accustomed to sympathetic touches. The corner of his mouth quirked up a little.

"I think only you and perhaps Madam Pince would understand the full horror inherent in that statement."

Hermione laughed. She couldn't help it. Shifting onto her knees so that she was closer, she wrapped her arms around the startled wizard, hugging him where he stood at the edge of the bed. "I'll share my collection with you. Provided I have access to whatever's left of yours, of course."

A wordless laugh left him. "How mercenary of you."

Since she wasn't letting go, Severus awkwardly returned the embrace. Hermione smiled into his shoulder, enjoying the warm male scent of him. "So...if the two of us combine our libraries, and...as much as it pains me to suggest it...we sell off any duplicates, do you think we could come up with enough money for the most basic of potions supplies?" She felt him pulling his head back and leaned back as well, meeting his gaze. "Even if we start out small, just a few basic products, it would be a source of income that we could gradually build upon. And we still have over a month and a half, here. We could start with brewing and selling a few things right now, while our living expenses are still low."

Severus studied her face, a faint frown pinching his brow. "Are you throwing your lot in with me? Why? Why would you kiss me, for that matter? Why me? You,,," He flushed as he admitted, "You could have anyone you wanted in your life..."

Hermione already knew the answer to that question. It was as easy as looking at his uncomfortable, diffident face. Cupping the edge of his jaw with one hand, she smiled at him when he glanced at her, surprised at how easy it was to be brave enough to admit that answer.

"Because I realize I have enjoyed all of the conversations I've had with my cat in the last few weeks, far more than I've enjoyed conversations with anyone else in the last few years. I was never the prettiest girl, growing up, but I was often the smartest. Girl or boy, it was always hard to find someone I could talk with, not just talk to, or talk at...and therein lies all the difference in the world. I've always admired you, and your intellect."

He gave her a skeptical look, releasing her.

"...Well, except when you made fun of my teeth, and when we thought you were a traitor," Hermione admitted with a blush. He ducked his head, or tried to, but she lifted it again with her hand. "But even then, I wanted to make excuses for you.

"Someone that brilliant couldn't be a traitor. You had to be smart enough to know that all that nonsense about 'purity of blood equals purity of magic' was just that: nonsense. Certainly you've taught enough through the years to have learned that someone like me, coming from a purely Muggle family, is just as capable as anyone coming from a longstanding wizarding family like the Malfoys."

"More capable," Severus admitted, returning his gaze back to hers. He stared into her tawny eyes, studying her. A lock of curly brown hair dangled at the edge of one eye. Lifting his hand, he brushed it back, gingerly tucking it behind her ear before lowering his arm again, though he was beginning to understand that she probably wouldn't protest his touch. "...When did you become a woman, Miss Granger?" he finally asked, searching her warm, smiling gaze. "Why wasn't I there to see it?"

Her smile broadened. "Because if you had been there, I doubt you would have seen it. Now, come on," she prodded him, lifting his chin a little higher with her palm. "Admit you've thoroughly enjoyed debating with me now that we're both adults, free and clear. Confess that you enjoy my company."

Warmth infused his face. Years...decades...of hiding his true feelings made Severus want to deny it out of instinct...but her fingers slid softly, gently along the side of his throat. Rubbing that tendon below his ear, down at the bottom of his jaw. It felt almost as good as when she did it to the cat version of him. He held her gaze as he spoke. "Yes, I have enjoyed your company. And your mind...and your touch."

"Then let's throw in our lot together," Hermione offered with a grin. "I have an idea...if you can tolerate it...that should add to the value of any potions we'd brew."

At the arch of his brow, she explained.

"Charmed potions...don't pinch your brow like that," Hermione chided, shifting her hand so she could smooth out the crease in his brow with her thumb before dropping her arm. "I know you sneered at the thought of 'foolish wand-waving' in your Potions class, but I've been studying some of the concoctions the twins have come up with for their shop. Some of their processes, enhanced by Charms, have really speeded up the production, quality, and efficacy of those products. They've been able to restock their shelves at a faster rate than their competitors. I think it's worth investigating."

All this touching she was doing...it was alien to him. At least, to the spy and the false Death Eater he had been. To the man who had learned how to enjoy being touched as a cat...it was...it was probably only tolerable because it was her. Then again, he had touched her, and she had shown no signs his touch was repulsive, unwelcome.

"I held that stance against wand-waving in the classroom because combining potions and spellwork required Advanced-level study and skill," he reminded her, trying to regain some of his normal asperity. "Seventh-year advanced skill. You haven't gone through your seventh year of study, yet."

"No, but I've read the textbooks," Hermione admitted. At his puzzled blink, she added, "I made sure to buy all the course-books for my seventh year and studied them in my free time, when we were chasing down all those Horcruxes...what?"

His blink had shifted to a wince...and from there, into a wry chuckle. "You studied for a year you weren't going to take?"

"Scientia est Potentia: Knowledge is Power," she quoted. "I made sure Harry and Ron studied some of it, too, though I only insisted vigorously on certain spells we all thought would be most useful for them to know. It was worth it, too, seeing as how we won."

"If you say so," Severus murmured, uncomfortable with the mention her friends. Setting aside his dislike, Severus pondered her offer. "You think the Charms are proving a help, and not a hinderance? What if they're just dangerous short-cuts in the potion-making process? Some potions cannot tolerate the use of magic in the preparation of the ingredients, or the energies used will create an interference in their efficacy."

She shrugged. "Some of it may be short-cuts, but I was thinking more along the lines of charms to hold a potion or salve in stasis until it's ready to be applied. Or a charm that's applied to the container...Wracken's Disease requires the counteragent, a potion, to be enchanted to achieve full potency just before it's applied, but the spell and wand-movements are a bit complex for most people to handle."

"Yes, but Wracken's Brew cannot have a stasis charm applied to the bottle, Hermione," Severus reminded her. "Stasis charms make moonroot sap curdle and sour, rendering the potion ineffective."

"Ah, but what if the potion is double-bottled?" Hermione counter-offered. "You craft a bottle with two layers, and only the outer layer is stasis-charmed; the inner layer is not, and it's the touching of the charm against the potion that would sour the moonroot sap. It's the same principle as a thermos flask, only in this case it's not being protected against heat-loss by a vacuum; it's being protected from magical energies by a vacuum."

"Perhaps, but an activated potion would still go stale within half an hour," he protested. "You only use small amounts at a time, which is why most people apply the ointment, then enchant it to work."

"Not if you enchant a mess of tiny bottles...say, a boxed set of a dozen dram-sized ointment bottles, pre-enchanted...you could even make each compartment in the box stasis-charmed, with a paper or foil seal over each segment."

"Paper would be better than foil; metal and glass in combination can sometimes conduct magical energies, while paper and glass are far less reactive," he mused, rubbing his chin. "Of course, we'd need to come up with the boxes..."

"All we'd need would be a stack of card-paper, and two Charms: the Origamus, and the Papieras. One to fold the paper, the other to mould it so that the joints are rendered seamless. A thinner bit across the top of the partitions so that it's easy to break through, a lid to close over it, and there you have it," Hermione said smugly. "An environmentally sound, recyclable delivery system for pre-enchanted, stasis-maintained medications. It's almost as good as a Muggle chemist's bubble-packs."

"Environmentally sound? Recyclable?" he queried, arching a brow. "Sounds more like a fire-starter, to me. And much more practical, considering how many wizarding homes have Floo connections."

"Well, at least it's more biodegradable than the plastic in a chemist's bubble-packs," Hermione retorted. "And we can...or rather, I can...enchant each of the compartments to end the stasis charm once it's been opened and its bottle removed."

"But then we'd have a slough of tiny bottles running around Great Britain," Severus reminded her. "If the stasis charm is going to preserve everything within its compartment, then why not use a Vassopulpa Transfiguring Charm, and just make the jars out of paper as well? If they're suspended in stasis, then it doesn't matter that the Transfiguration from paper to glass will only last twelve hours at best.

"We'd just have to make sure the jars were loaded and sealed into the box within an hour or two of being enchanted," he mused, following that thought. "and put a disclaimer on the labeling saying that the jars are completely disposable, biodegradable, burnable, whatever they prefer...and the stasis charm on the outermost container will keep the medicine still potent, so long as each compartment hasn't been broken open."

"Oh! I just thought of something," Hermione said. "If I use a certain set of Runes on the top of each compartment, then the touch of a wand would open it up, but it could be constructed strong enough to be proof against puncturing, and especially proof against children trying to get into it...this could be a whole new line of packaging for medicines!" she exclaimed softly, enthusiasm shining in her eyes. "We could patent it, and get royalties from it! It would be highly useful in the medical field as well as the private sector...and in the Herbology field, for shipping specimens as freshly as possible."

Severus found his thoughts arrested by the way her face glowed with excitement; he wasn't used to anyone looking that happy while looking at him, even if she technically wasn't happy at him. A longing to reach out and touch her cheek, to smooth back the curls by her ear, to claim her mouth in a kiss seeped through his bone. It took him a few moments to realize he didn't have to restrain that impulse. Not only was she no longer his student by a full year and more, she had indicated his touch was welcome. Which was a near-miracle, in his opinion; there weren't many women who would willingly allow him to touch them.

Taking advantage that unspoken permission, he lifted his hand to her face, gently brushing the backs of his knuckles along the softness of her cheek. Her eyelids drifted shut and her head twisted into his hand. A blush stole across her cheeks as he opened his fingers, allowing her to nuzzle his palm. As much as he wanted to kiss her, Severus restrained himself. There was one question she still had to answer, first.

Instead, he softly repeated his original query. "...Where do you see yourself, five years from now?"

An image popped into her head. It was the same way she'd seen herself being the best student she could be, and the best witch she could be, and every other goal she had set for herself and succeeded at. There were some goals where the visualization hadn't come through quite so clearly, and tasks she had concomitantly failed...but whenever the dream in her head was clear enough, strong enough, she had found a way to make it come true.

Opening her eyes, Hermione told him exactly what she saw. Because if it scared him away, she wanted to know right now, before it was too late. "I see the two of us, in our own home, one with a good, solid potions laboratory. A home where we create popular, well-crafted brews each day...and make love to each other each night."

Severus felt something in his heart thump hard against his ribcage. He fancied it was his heart. "You see us in a relationship?"

As tempting as it was to answer, Why not?, Hermione aimed for a more direct and thus utterly unambiguous reply.

"Yes."

Determinedly ignoring the voice in the back of his head, the one filled with skepticism, sarcasm, and self-doubt that screamed at him she was lying, she'd never want to be in a brief fling with him, of all people...let alone a five-year relationship...Severus closed the last bit of distance between them. Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her. Just kissed her. It was enough, for that moment.

When he pulled back, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Her expression was sober, though her cheeks were softly flushed from kissing with him. "So...where do you see yourself, in five years? What's your own long-term plan?"

"I...didn't have one, other than surviving long enough to complete my Oathsworn task in bringing down the Dark Lord. I haven't had one, before now," Severus amended as her brow started to arch up. "I didn't know if I'd survive...and I fully believed I wouldn't. If I hadn't been hexed into staying as a cat like that, if I hadn't escaped from Pettigrew, I most likely wouldn't have lived past the Dark...past Voldemort's final battle."

She could accept that; his position had always been the most precarious of anyone's, in the war. "Alright. Then how about, where would you like to be, five years from now? Where would you like to find yourself, if you could use a Time-Turner to go into the future and visit your future self?"

It only took a few heartbeats of thought to find the answer to that question. "Sitting in your lap," Severus stated. "Reading a good book together, as you stroke my back."

"As a cat, I trust," Hermione returned dryly. "You're a bit bigger than my lap can hold, as a man."

He smirked, and she laughed. Shaking his head, Severus sighed. "It's an impractical image, Hermione. It doesn't address employment, housing, the acquiring of food and clothing..."

"But it is somewhere that you want to be?" Hermione offered quietly.

"Yes."

Her mouth quirked up on one side. "You do realize that, if you and I were to become partners...in several senses of the word...you'd definitely be on hand five years from now, and my lap would be available for you to cuddle upon, as either a cat or a man? There's nothing in the rulebook that says we cannot combine those two visions...and it not only comes with employment, housing, food and clothing, but the all-important necessity of companionship, too."

"An eloquent argument," Severus murmured, daring to tuck another wayward curl behind her ear. "But that begs the question, what kind of a partnership? Business, that would be a given, in order to acquire the tangible necessities of life. Personal... Housemates? Witch-and-cat? Wizard-and-cat?"

She giggled at that. "You make it sound like a pet ownership time-share scam."

A snort escaped him at the absurdity. Sobering, he continued. "Would you want a friendship, or...or perhaps a friendship-with-benefits? Or..."

He couldn't quite bring himself to say it. After all, if he didn't ask, she couldn't say 'no'. Like that famous, silly poem about the turtle and the bagpipe. For a moment, Severus' brain snapped, and he had an image of Minerva in a tartan dress shouting, "AWOOOOGAH!" when squeezed, like in that odd poem. He shook it off mentally, banishing it with a picture of Hermione in something plaid...but he couldn't picture her shouting that. Not when his libido insisted on picturing her shouting his name in ecstasy.

Hermione studied him, noting the way his normally sallow cheeks had turned a little pink. She knew very well what was more than friends-with-benefits. While he was too old to be called a 'boyfriend', calling him a 'significant other' was a bit too stuffy for her own tastes. She also didn't like the wishy-washy feel of either label. No, I've decided what I want. And I always go after what I want, she reminded herself. I always have, after I realized within the first two years of grammar school that, if I didn't go after what I wanted, I'd never get whatever it was.

And I want Severus Snape in my life. I want my lap-cat, who loves a nice, quiet cuddle with a good journal or book. I want the man who kisses me like I'm precious to him, though he hasn't actually said the words. Someone who's honestly concerned about my future, five years from now. And I want a man who can keep up with me in a good, rousing discussion about anything and everything. One who thinks a woman is good for more than just draping decoratively off a fellow's arm, or rodgering senseless in bed...though I wouldn't mind an occasional bout of thoroughly rodgered senselessness, of course...

"...You know," she stated idly, "there is another option."

"There is?" Severus asked, nervous. Is she going to turn me out? Suggest just being platonic friends? Ask to keep me as her cat most of the time?

"Yes, there is." Gathering her courage, Hermione looked him in the eye. "We could try being engaged for a while."

Severus choked. Coughing, he cleared his throat, making a vague motion with his hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that his choking at the suggestion meant he found it offensive. "Go...go on..."

"A longish engagement, at least a year or two," she offered. "So that we could really get to know each other. To live with each other long enough to see if the way we hang the bog roll or squeeze the toothpaste tube irritates too much, or if we can handle the fine art of compromise in each of our personal lifestyle preferences."

"Ah. So this would be like...an experiment in compatibility."

"Yes, but with more honorable intentions involved than just shacking up together," Hermione offered, blushing as she did so. "I mean...well, you did say you wanted to respect me, just now."

Respect me. The two words echoed in his head, and ached in his groin. Severus winced. "Hermione...I'm not sure I could live with a young, attractive woman, and respect her for an entire year. You are not one of my students, anymore...and I don't have to fear you being used as a hostage by the other side to make me compliant, either."

She blinked at him, then blushed and frowned, catching his meaning. "Don't be ridiculous! I'm not saying we should hop into bed together...erm, as two humans, or two cats...for the first month or two, but I'm not saying we shouldn't try to have any sex at all, either! I'm just..." Searching for the words she wanted, she finally settled on the blunt approach. "Look, I really like the man I've gotten to know in the last few weeks, and because of that, I'd like to court you. With honorable intentions.

"I don't want you to think I'm just toying with you, or playing with your affections. I also don't want to treat this so casually that we'd be off snogging other people while we're living together. I respect myself too much, and I respect you too much, and I demand that you respect me too much, too. Will you, or will you not, get engaged to me?"

Severus frowned at her. "I may not have dated that much, Hermione, but even I know it is the man's responsibility to ask the woman if she wants to marry him!"

"I'm not asking you to marry me; I'm asking you to be engaged to me. To be exclusive, and to consider the possibility of asking for my hand in marriage in the future," she retorted tartly, cheeks heating at his scolding. "Besides, this is the modern age; a woman can ask a man to marry her, you know! Especially if the fellow is too shy to do it himself."

"Too shy?" It felt like his eyebrows were trying to merge with his hairline. "I may be many things, but shy is not one of them!"

"Oh, really?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms under her breasts. "When you couldn't even bring yourself to discuss the possibility of marriage as one potential form of partnership between us?"

"I didn't want you to laugh in my face!" he retorted just as tartly...and flushed, embarrassed by the admission.

"...Do you hear me laughing?" she snapped back.

"No! Will you marry me?" he blurted out, allowing the heat of their argument to kick the words out of his chest.

"Yes!"

They paused and blinked at each other, both stunned by how easy that was. And how surprisingly quick. Hermione recovered first, shrugging diffidently, arms still folded across her chest.

"...I mean, if both of us find ourselves still interested in the idea after the trial-by-fire of living and working together for at least a year, that is," she allowed, "then yes, I could definitely see myself marrying you. I certainly can't think of anyone else I'd rather marry."

Severus narrowed his eyes, his suspicious nature coming to the fore. "What does that mean?"

"I mean, you're the best candidate I could probably find. You're incredibly intelligent, so I won't ever have to struggle with boredom, like I do with just about everyone else," she admitted. "You're attractive, in a brooding sort of way. You're also quite mature, and..."

"Hermione, I'm twice your age," Severus interjected, uncomfortable with the subject but knowing it needed to be aired. "I'm old enough to have been your father."

"Yes, and because of it, you're actually mature. I'm a lot older on the inside than most young women my age," Hermione confessed. "I aged quite a lot, inside, thanks to the war, and I grew up a long time ago. I'm not the sort to be impressed with the boys who are my own age; they're still rather immature in some ways. Enough ways to give me a headache when I think about trying to date one of them. Take Ron, for example..."

"...I'd rather not," Severus retorted dryly.

She rolled her eyes at him, but continued. "...First the prat couldn't get up enough courage to ask me out on a date, then he had problems with me dating someone else, while he was busy snogging the daylights out of another girl, then he decides he wants me after all, at the very moment everything starts blowing up in our faces and I have to turn him down so neither of us will be distracted at the wrong moment. And then, before asking me to go out on a proper, post-war date, he up and asks me to marry him! He has never once asked me what my favourite colour is, let alone enquired where I pictured myself five years from now! I want someone who thinks, in my life.

"I don't deny that I'd like a man of action...someone who, when he comes up with a good, solid plan, carries it through," Hermione qualified, "but first he has to be able to come up with a good, solid plan. Something that he's carefully thought his way through. Not just some spur-of-the-moment idea.

"I also want someone who is organized. Not to mention, someone with a sense of humor that is at least a few steps higher in quality than the kind most frequently based upon bodily functions!" Subsiding a little as he smirked at that, Hermione sighed. "Look...right now, I'm roughly half your age. But in another two decades, I'll only be two thirds as old as you. Forty to sixty isn't as big a span as one might think. And then two more decades down the road, I'll only be three-quarters your age, sixty to eighty...and by the time I'm eighty and you're a hundred or thereabouts, we'll both be equally old and wrinkly, and it won't matter anymore.

"The important thing is that we're both mentally the same age, or at least close enough to make a go of it. And in that regards, I feel like I'm at least thirty! So there; I'm already three-quarters your age, internally," she offered logically. "Thirty to forty is a far smaller gap than eighteen to forty. If I don't snag you, who am I going to date? Someone who's only just left school? Someone who cannot even begin to picture where they'll be, five years from now?"

"So, I'm the only prospect, is that it?" Severus asked acerbically.

Shaking her head, Hermione corrected him firmly. "No, that's not it. If I weren't genuinely interested in you, I wouldn't have made any sort of an offer. It's not as if I'm drowning in my spinsterhood, and flailing around for the nearest piece of flotsam! I've got decades of dating-years ahead of me. I'm choosing to try and make a go of it with you, because I'm choosing you. I'm choosing you, Severus. Because I want you. Or at least, I currently think you're worthy of me, and I want to know not only if my thoughts on the matter are accurate, but also if I'm worthy of you."

The shuttered way he studied her made her uncomfortable. Until he murmured, "I'm not accustomed to anyone thinking like that. Thinking that I'm worthy of a relationship."

"Well, you are," Hermione huffed, settling her arms more firmly across her chest. She realized in the next instant that her body-language could be interpreted as either defensive or pouting. Defensive on his behalf, yes, but she didn't want to think she was trying to defend herself against him. Unfolding her arms, she closed the distance between them, leaning forward until their noses almost bumped. "Look, all the talking in the world won't tell us what we really need to know. We need to live together, work together...court each other," her gaze dropped briefly to his lips, "and then we'll know if we have what it takes to be together. If there's one thing I learned from the war, it's that life is too short for doing things you'll regret. Or not doing things.

"I want to see if I can have a relationship with the most intelligent, exciting man I know. That man happens to be you," Hermione stated as bravely as she could. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Aside from a certain, natural level of bewilderment and skepticism...no," Severus found himself replying. A pause, a swallow, and he added, "And...I find you to be remarkably mature, intelligent, amusing, and fascinating in return. I certainly couldn't imagine myself bothering to...to court anyone else."

The smile that spread across her face startled and bothered him. He wasn't sure what he'd said to please her so much. As far as compliments went, it was certainly a pitiful thing. Of course, he silently acknowledge that he had a problem with delivering compliments; the ones he'd given to his Slytherin students hadn't entirely been sincere, and he had rarely handed out even the most grudging ones to the pupils in the other Houses, as part of his cover. Compliments...sincere ones...just weren't his style.

He hadn't had much practice with giving them to adult women, either. The rare few he had dated as first a student, then an adult, had usually done so in exchange for something from him...notes for classes, or information or a bit of extra status in the Dark Lord's service. The occasional woman whose services he had bought...well, they hadn't been paid in compliments.

"This will not be easy for me," Severus admitted quietly. "I have many years, decades' worth, of bad habits to overcome. I've pushed people away far more than I've allowed them to get close. I've never stayed the whole night through in the same bed as a woman...sex and my stint as a cat notwithstanding. And...I'm rather..." A steadying breath, and he forced himself to admit, "I'm rather unnerved at the prospect of being your first lover."

"Oh. Well. Erm...how should we handle it, then?" Hermione found herself asking. She winced in the next second, mortified by how stupidly clinical that sounded.

For his part, Severus found himself wanting to chuckle. Pulling her torso against his, he tucked her curly head under his chin and held her in his arms. Just held her. It seemed the appropriate thing to do, even if he felt awkward in doing so.

For her part, Hermione found some of her embarrassment easing, and snuggled her arms around his white-clad torso. Clearing her throat after a few heartbeats, she offered, "Well, we are both the sort who like to have a plan for everything..."

"Yes, we are. I think your suggestion earlier has merit. We court each other, get to know one another," Severus outlined, "and we kiss, for the first few weeks."

"And cuddle," Hermione offered, cheek pressed into his shoulder. "I like this part, too."

"And...cuddle." He didn't really consider himself the cuddling sort. Or rather, hadn't, until his sojourn as a cat. "Then we...touch. A little further each time, but not beyond what would be respectful."

Hermione liked that plan, but it had a flaw. "What if we end up wanting more than that, from each other?" She pulled back a little, looking up at him. "What if we get 'carried away on a tide of passion', or something like that?"

Here was an opportunity too tempting to resist. "Then I'd say you'd been reading too many 'girlie novels'," he drawled. "I have never in my life been 'carried away on a tide of passion'. I have always been in control of myself."

To his surprise, she arched a skeptical brow. "Even when you were foaming at the mouth with rage and furious loathing when confronting Sirius, or Harry?"

His face flushed. "...I meant sexually."

"You know, some people do say that the more passionate you are in one area of your life, the more passionate you'll likely be in another." Smirking, she snuggled close again. "If that is so, then all you'd need is the right woman to turn you into a love-tiger."

Wincing, he muttered, "Hermione, I am not a 'love-tiger'. Kindly dispense with that nonsense immediately."

She muffled a giggle into his shoulder, then pulled back, still grinning. "Prove it. Kiss me as passionately as you can! If you're not a love-tiger, you won't be able to curl my toes one bit. But if you do curl them, then you are one."

The chit was challenging him. Daring him, even. There was one flaw in her plan. "How would I know if your toes were curling from my kiss, and not from your own scheming, woman?"

Not having considered that, Hermione bit her lower lip in thought. It took her a few moments to offer, "Well...we'll make it a challenge. If I'm not impressed with your most passionate, lover-like kiss...you have to do not only the cooking and the dishes...since dinner was very tasty...but the laundry, too." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "I hate doing the laundry. It's my least-liked chore. That's incentive for me to keep my toes uncurled, right there."

Considering the offer, Severus asked, "And what is my incentive to kiss you with all the passion I can muster? A negative consequence isn't enough, not when the anticipation of a positive reward awaits me."

Hermione eyed him, her mind blank. "Er...what would you like, as your reward?"

For a moment, his own mind was blank. Drawing in a breath to admit he didn't know, Severus inhaled her scent, and remembered a longing he had held just a short while ago. His face filled with heat at the very idea, making her blink at him.

"Severus? What is it?" She wasn't used to seeing his face quite so pink.

"You, ah, wouldn't agree to that."

That earned him a frown. Loosening his grip around her, Hermione sat up and eyed him firmly. "Don't make up my mind for me, Severus Snape. Tell me what you have in mind, and I'll give it due consideration. And don't assume that you know how I will answer. You only think you know, and frankly, you don't me well enough yet to actually, really know."

His face heated further. Clearing his throat, Severus opened his mouth, licked his lips, and managed to reply. "I...want to taste you. Intimately," he added at her blank look. "Down...there."

Thank Merlin and his purple undershorts...her face flushed as red as his own had felt a moment ago. He felt slightly better at his own embarrassment. Especially when she didn't run screaming from his presence.

Clearing her throat, she breathed deeply, then nodded shakily, finding her voice. "Ahh...alright, then. If you fail, I get out of cooking, dishes, and laundry, and if you win, I let you...erm...yes. So, when shall we enact this test of your sexual prowess?"

Right now! Severus' libido asserted. His mind, however, knew that if he succeeded, he would have to set the stage a little better. "First of all, your feet need to be bare. The toes in question have to be visible."

"Visible, right." Still a little dazed-looking, she pulled out of his arms and pulled off the canvas boat-shoes she was wearing. They thumped onto the floor beyond the edge of the bed. She wasn't wearing socks, since the weather was a bit warm for that. "There. Now what?"

"Well, one doesn't start out absolutely cold, with these things," Severus informed her. "In fact, it's rather like a Muggle automobile; the engine has to be warmed up a bit, first."

That made Hermione giggle. "...A car? Are you comparing me to a car?"

"You do make my heart race," he murmured. Before he could begin to wince at how stupid that sounded, the look in her eyes made him pause. She looked both startled and pleased. Hermione even blushed again, ducking her gaze. And suddenly, it was just that easy. Lifting her chin with the edge of one finger, Severus touched his mouth to hers. She held her breath until he deepened the kiss, then sighed and leaned into him.

Her lips parted, tentatively inviting him inside. He didn't plunder them, but rather eased himself inside, like a spy slipping into a previously locked chamber. Licking cautiously around the edges, he found himself countered by a tentative lick of her own tongue. They met, probed, parried and tangled. It was good enough that sitting upright was annoying, burdensome. A twist of his body, a bit of pressure from the arms wrapped around hers, and he lay on his back, with her sprawled over him.

Perhaps he should have taken the dominant stance, lying on top of her to help further dominate the kiss, but Severus didn't really care at the moment; the position reminded him of how she'd transformed from cat to young woman, straddling him earlier. With a muffled sound, she let her limbs drape to either side of his body. He liked that soft moan. In fact, he wanted to hear it again, in case it lead to toe-curling. Of course, it was growing hard to concentrate on toe-curling activities; the cat within him just wanted to sink into the sensations and snog, not think. Snog, and grope a bit.

Reminding himself he was a sentient being, capable of rational thought, Severus touched her gently, thoughtfully, rather than just groping blindly. Sliding his palms up to her shoulders, he caressed her arms as their mouths nipped, then slipped them back down again to the curve of her rear, clad in soft blue cotton. There, he allowed the inner feline he had so recently learned existed inside of him to knead, alternating rubbing and squeezing her flesh between each of his hands.

His neck started to ache, making him realize that he was lifting his head off the bedding, trying to kiss her more thoroughly. It was definitely time for a position change. Carefully, he eased her over to his left side, grateful the bed was wide enough for the maneuver. She slid with a wordless protest, but since he didn't allow their kisses to pause for more than a fraction of a second, she didn't have time to verbally object. From there, it was a matter of sliding one of his knees between her thighs, and pushing her over with the sweep of his right hand up her ribs, over her shoulder, and onto her breast.

That broke their kiss. Hermione tipped her head back onto the foot of the mattress with a soft cry. The last person who had touched her there was Ron...and it had been unwanted and unwelcome...and the person before that had been the late Viktor Krum. Viktor had come closer to arousing her like this than Ron had, but never had it gone past a grope; she hadn't let it go past a grope. Right now, Hermione wanted to feel more than the heat of his palm through her blouse and bra. As he shifted over her, mouth ghosting over her chin, his breath warming the skin of her throat, she lifted her hands to undo the buttons of her top.

BRRRRIIIIIING! BRRIIING BRRIIING! BRRRRIIIIIING!

That was the phone. They jerked apart, almost as if they'd been caught. Hermione scrambled out from under Severus as he shifted onto his side. Since the phone was on the nightstand, she picked it up on the third single-ring...her aunt had strange taste in phone bells, preferring the sound of an old-fashioned party-line. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was heavily accented, sounding Indian...or rather, Burmese. They rattled off something, only she couldn't make sense of it. Frowning, Hermione closed her eyes, struggling to remember the Translation Charm.

"I'm sorry, hang on just a moment..." Pressing the mouthpiece to her thigh, she drew out the wand stuck by habit through her curls. "Paralingua Burma!" The hissed spell rippled over her head and shoulders. Lifting the receiver back to her ear, she cleared her throat and addressed the person on the other end of the line in Burmese. "I do speak Burmese; could you please repeat yourself? Your English was too heavily accented for me to understand."

"Thank you! Is this the niece of Miss Eumenia Stobbs, the archaeologist?"

"Yes, this is. My name is Hermione Granger."

"Yes, that is the name I have for the contact information. I am sorry to have to relay this news to you, but the aeroplane your relative was flying in has crashed in the jungle. The government sent rescue teams yesterday morning when the weather cleared, to search for survivors...but I am afraid your aunt was not among the ones who survived. Her travel papers indicated that we should contact you, if anything happened, and her work permit indicated we should contact a Mr. Jeffrey Granger as well."

"He's...he's my father. Eumenia's cousin," Hermione stammered. Hands slipped over her shoulders, warming her chilled skin. She found herself confirming her parent's telephone number, and that it wasn't too late to call, British-time. She ended the call and gingerly hung up the phone. Almost absently, she cancelled the translation spell.

"What has happened?" Severus coaxed her. "You're as pale as the Grey Lady."

"Aunt Eumenia...is dead," she whispered, and looked up at him with stricken brown eyes. "My aunt is dead!"

Severus found himself grasping more than her shoulders, as she first leaned into him, then burrowed her arms around his ribs. Holding her, he rocked her gently as she first sniffled, then gasped with each indrawn breath, then sobbed quietly. It was strange, being cried upon, a definitely strange feeling. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had trusted him this much. His Slytherins had been mostly a self-sufficient lot. Occasionally a homesick, teary-eyed first-year would come to see him for comfort; Severus had given speeches, tissues, and maybe a touch on the shoulder. No cuddling, though. And yet, with the witch in his arms, it was remarkably easy.

Maybe there had been more to the hex Pettigrew had cast than just an Obliviate that had trapped Severus as a cat, making him forget all about Animagi, and how to change back. Maybe he had forgotten how to be cold and unfeeling, too. If so...he wasn't missing it nearly as much as he should have, if he hadn't been rescued by her.