Three

A/N: Don’t own anything. Maybe some plot elements, but nothing else. I just like to take the characters out to play for a while.

“Ars Alchema” originated in Riley’s Pawn To Queen

Chapter 3

It was with no small amount of jubilation that I stood at Hogsmeade station and watched the Hogwarts Express pull away. I had six weeks of dunderhead-free time ahead of me, and I planned to make the very most of it. My chat with Remus the night before had done a lot to clear the air and improve my mood.

First, there was the matter of Albus’ ridiculous party to get through. His borrowed Muggle theme could have been worse. The cherub and pink ridden Valentine’s Day from the year Lockhart was here came to mind. I did wonder how my costume was going to go over, though. Likely nobody would notice the difference.

I turned to Hermione, who had been my staff partner in overseeing the students’ departure. “I don’t suppose you’d care to begin the summer with a drink at the Three Broomsticks, Professor?” I inquired with quirked eyebrow.

She glanced at her watch and used her fingers to tick off some calculation or another. “Oh, why not? I have a few hours before I need to get ready for the party.” She smiled. “But you’re buying, Severus.”

I decided to let her familiar use of my given name slip past without remarking upon it. “Only if you don’t order one of those ridiculous Muggle-style fruity drinks Rosmerta’s added to the menu recently. You’ll get enough of those at the party, if I know Albus like I think I do.”

She merely smirked and took off walking down the street. Smirked! That was MY thing! Since when was she allowed to smirk at me?! Oh, yes, I recalled. That would be since our adrenaline-infused interlude against the wall of the Malfoy dungeons. I followed after, my long strides allowing me to catch her up fairly quickly. She said nothing more, just continued to smirk like the cat that got the canary as we settled ourselves at a corner table at Rosmerta’s. When the server came to take our orders, I decided on a neat Firewhiskey and waited to see what She-Who-Smirks-A-Lot was going to order. I felt something slide up the inside of my calf. Her foot.

“I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri, please.” She grinned, raising her eyebrow at me as though to dare me to protest.

It took every ounce of restraint I had to not respond. Oh, no, I would not be trifled with in such a way, flirted with and teased. She may treat the werewolf that way, but I wouldn't stand for it.

By then, the server had moved off to fill our orders, and I hissed across the table at her.

"What in the name of Merlin's left testicle do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?"

"Merlin's left testicle, hmm? I wasn't aware I was doing anything." That smirk was back. Damn her and her smirking!

I leaned in very close, whispering, "If you won't desist with drawing your ticklish little foot up my leg, I swear I'll make you worthy of the 'tart' costume you're assumedly wearing this evening. Right. Here. On. This. Table. Do you understand?"

I watched as her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect little 'O'. She straightened in her chair, withdrew her foot, and settled her hands in her lap. Very good. Even a year out of school, the Potions master voice still worked on the chit. I settled back in my chair.

"Of course, Professor. I understand you perfectly. While I certainly hope someone will make me worthy of my costume this evening, I would rather it not be on a wooden table here at the pub." She chuckled.

She busied herself toying with the edge of her cloak as the server brought our drinks over. Hers was frothy and pink and had whipped cream atop it. Ridiculous. I accepted my Firewhiskey with ill grace and sipped at it, watching Hermione slurp her concoction through a straw. Did she have any idea how delicious she was, and did she have any idea what she was in for this evening? Remus had assured me he wouldn't tip her off directly, but he may have dropped a hint or two. I thought he was feeling a little guilty for not coming clean right away. That, however, was his problem.

"Just what is the allure of that pink beverage, Hermione?" I inquired, waving my hand at the glass she was holding.

"Oh. Easy. One only tastes the strawberries and lime, not the rum," she answered, holding the glass out to me. "Would you like to try it? It's good."

"I'll just take your word for it."

We finished up our drinks in what was, in my mind, a very companionable silence. There had only been a few people in my life of being a double agent that I'd been able to achieve such a state with. As odd as it may seem for the bat of the dungeons, I did appreciate such things.

As we walked back to the school, we fell into easy conversation about an article in a recent edition of Ars Alchema that lasted until we parted at the entrance hall. I continued on down to my rooms alone and glad there were no students to see me in what I might have been inclined to call a good mood. I had just rounded the corner to my rooms when I saw Albus standing outside my door, his hand raised to knock.

“Headmaster, what can I do for you?”

“Ahh, Severus! I thought you’d have been back by now. No matter, no matter. You are attending the victory soiree tonight, yes?” Ugh, even from five metres away I could see his eyes twinkling. Meddling, mischievous barmy old codger!

I muttered my passwords under my breath and dismantled the wards to my home as I invited him in. Yes, it was against my better judgment, but he would have pouted. I despised a pouting Albus because he was worse than a spoiled three year old. I motioned him to a seat near the fire as I hung up my outer cloak and settled myself into the other chair.

“So, what brings you down to spy on me this afternoon, Albus?” I asked without preamble.

“Spy on you, my dear Severus? Why would I do any such thing? I merely came to inquire that all the students made it on to the train safely and there were no major catastrophies on the way,” he said, sitting back in his chair and summoning a cutesy ceramic tea service from out of nowhere as he did so, no doubt because he knew the whimsical design would annoy me. I knew very well food could not be conjured. I knew it hadn’t really come out of nowhere, but the Hogwarts house-elves were very discreet. After almost twenty years it was still rather disconcerting.

I accepted the cup of tea, balancing it on the arm of my chair as I made my report of the morning’s excursion.

“The students made it to the train without incident. Euan Abercrombie forgot his cat, but Miss Granger assured him that she would check his dormitory and Floo it home for him, likely before he arrived home himself. Nobody missed the train or the carriages, except for the student members of the Order and the DA who were cleared to stay for the festivities this evening. There was the usual amount of sentimental foolishness, and I do believe Miss Granger was the recipient of a few teary hugs.”

Albus merely smiled and sipped his tea.

“And yes, Albus, I am coming to your ridiculous party. I’m even going to wear a costume, although I highly doubt anyone will notice.”

“Wonderful, Severus!” He set down his empty teacup and rose. “I’ll just leave you now to ready yourself. I have many things to do in the Great Hall. Remember, seven sharp – don’t be late!”