Ten

On New Year's Eve, Severus spent the night asleep in his bed. He didn't find it reasonable to stay awake to welcome in the New Year. Why not get the rest his body needed, especially at his age and greet the New Year the next day when he was at his best? So when he went down to breakfast the next morning, he wasn't at all surprised to see only two students and three teachers present. Hagrid was shoveling food into his gaping maw at a speedy rate. The half-giant looked a little worse for wear, but he reported to be doing well during their monthly meetings. Perhaps Severus would find an assistant for Hagrid to help with the grounds-keeping duties.

Professor Pucey was up, but he looked quite tired. Thankfully, Pucey was an excellent teacher. He was a well-behaved Slytherin, and he did a decent job fulfilling his Head of House duties. Actually, he had adjusted quickly in comparison to the other teachers. Perhaps Pucey didn't want any more headlines containing the words "Slytherin" and "Muggle" with a negative context in the Daily Prophet. Their kind had found it hard enough right after the war, and no one wanted a repeat.

Wood seemed burly eyed and cranky. He was pouring coffee into his cereal. Obviously, he was awake because it was his assigned morning duty, not because he wanted to be up. It served the dunderhead right.

Granger came in dressed in a traveling cloak. Honestly, the woman had no patience. She was quivering from head to toe as she seated herself right next to him. There were so many other seats, and they were going to be spending a lot of time together in an hour, and she had to pick the seat open next to him. Wood gave a brief glance at her, but she wasn't paying attention. Did the git want to start over with their relationship? He remembered the look Wood had given him after Granger had licked his fingers so overtly. Yes, he obviously wanted her back out of jealousy. Wood and Granger were just friends, wasn't that what she had said? Just friends. Not that it mattered in the slightest to him.

After breakfast, Severus went to his office and double-checked everything on his mental "To-Do List." Filius, the Deputy Headmaster, was in charge until he returned. Hagrid was escorting the student body back from the train station on Saturday. And Severus had notified the School Board of his absence ages ago, so it looked as if everything was in order.

A knock at the door sounded, and in came Granger. She had a small bag of luggage and another, beaded bag. Thank goodness she knew how to pack lightly. He pointed her to the Portkey, a book on Quidditch, he'd found while cleaning out the desk a few days ago. She grasped it in her small hand, and he took a hold of the other end. His fingers brushed hers, and he was reminded of her red lips surrounding them. He flicked his eyes up to her face, and she was blushing. A quiver of excitement ran through his body: desire, joy, fear and pain. What was this woman doing to him?

A tug at his naval signaled the Portkey was working. When the world stopped spinning, they were in a dimly lit room. It was perfectly square, and there was a box of random objects, which were obviously used Portkeys. He chucked their book in the box as he walked to the door. A registration table was directly in front of them, along with several faces he vaguely recognized from previous conventions.

Severus gave them his name, and they marked him off. Granger was next to him, giving her name as well. They handed her several brochures and a few stacks of paper. He got nothing.

"What are all those papers?" he asked as they walked down the concourse to the right lecture hall.

"Er . . . these are a few forms, nothing big," she said. "Oh look, they have a food court. Do you want something to eat? I'm starved."

She rushed over to the line and refused to look at him, choosing instead to study the overhead menu with great care.

"Granger, we just ate. And what forms?" he asked.

"Hmm? Would you like me to get you anything?" she said, not meeting his eyes. Turning to the woman behind the counter, she said loudly, "Yes, I'd like to have a large coffee and a bagel with loads of cream cheese." She bought her food and walked off to find a table to sit at.

"I'll find out sooner or later," he said evenly. She didn't appear to hear.

They found the lecture hall hosting Damocles Belby, her professor from DuPont. Hermione introduced the two men, and they talked amicably before finding a seat. The rest of the conventioneers filed in. Within the hour the room was packed. Severus cast a silent cooling charm on his person. The room was already sweltering, and they were going to sit in here for three hours.

Unfortunately, the next three hours were torture: Granger pulled out a bottle of ink, balanced it on her knee and dipped a quill in. Somehow, she'd managed to fit a scroll of parchment inside her beaded bag and was furiously writing notes. And he'd thought she had been an avid note-taker as his student! To make matters worse, she muttered everything Belby said as she wrote. It sounded like a delayed echo. After an hour, he asked her to cast a silencing charm on herself so he wouldn't have to hear her mumble. But even without the sound of her voice, her feathered quill bobbed frantically across the paper, which was equally distracting.

Lunch was a relief, but there were too many witches and wizards in line to get anything from the concessions. In the dusky light of the winter sun, he spotted a little café across the street. If his memory served him correctly, most places in Finland served pea soup on Thursdays. That sounded just right for such a cold day in January. He promptly exited the building. He heard the snow crunching behind him...Granger had a fear of being left alone, apparently. He was already ordering two bowls of hot pea soup when she walked through the door behind him, the bell jingling.

He pushed the Styrofoam bowl into her hands and sat down at a small table next to the door. It was perfect. They ate in silence before marching back across the street to the convention center. Lunch was almost over, but the queue at the little food window was still quite long. Dunderheads, the whole lot of them.

Severus ran his finger down the schedule. The next conference he wanted to attend was upstairs. Granger tagged along; did she not know they didn't have to do everything together? This was going to be a long day, but a part of him was glad to have her by his side. They would certainly have many discussions on the information being presented today. At seven o'clock, the last lecture finally ended, and he pulled himself out of the chair. His body must have molded to the seat because he was stiff and uncomfortable once he stood. Granger stretched her arms above her head, and his eyes automatically were drawn to her breasts. Her nipples were pert, and he could make out just a hint of them through the fabric of her jumper.

They dined in a small bistro a block away, then crunched their way through the snow to the bed-and-breakfast. Severus carried his small trunk, and the bottom scraped the top off the mountainous snow running the length of the sidewalk. Granger chattered on beside him regarding the last speaker's topic. A streetlamp illuminated her face, tinged pink from the cold. Her scarf was black, as was her traveling cloak. It suited her; he'd been expecting to see her garbed out in scarlet and gold. But then he remembered the silken black bed sheets he'd seen when she'd been in her enchanted sleep. There was obviously a dark side to her that he didn't know about.

He sat in a stiff, high-backed chair in the formal sitting room of the B&B. It was a quaint little place run by a plump woman who reminded him of Molly Weasley. Granger was trying to converse with the hostess. Severus spoke Finnish well enough to have taken care of the transaction, but Granger had been the one to make the reservations...let her sink or swim. The woman was having a hard time finding the change Granger had made on the reservations months ago. The original reservation was there: one room, large bed and bath. But the second owl she had sent to request his room apparently had never made it. Splendid! The place was fully booked, along with all the other lodgings in the area, due to the large mass of Wizarding people here for the convention. It was not only Wizard-owned businesses, but all the Muggle establishments were packed as well. The woman was trying to explain all this to Granger, but she didn't comprehend.

This was going to take forever if he didn't do something himself. Turning in the chair, he asked to see the room. The woman complied, leading them down a narrow hallway to the last door on the left. The bed was a decent size, taking up most of the room but was not conventional for their needs. A Muggle television was propped up in front of the bed, and a large loveseat sat against the far wall. A small bathroom was next to the door.

Severus asked if he could magically expand the room or transfigure the loveseat into another bed. The woman frowned and got huffy. She explained they had experienced problems in the past with guests doing such things and so had charmed the furniture to stay as it was. That option was out. They'd have to make do somehow. He dismissed the woman.

"You'll be sleeping on the loveseat, Granger," he informed her.

Her hair whipped him in the face as she spun to glare up at him.

"You were the one who muffed up the reservations, so you must pay," he explained.

Indignantly, she plopped onto the bed and bounced slightly, her crossed arms pushing up her bust.

"Oh, Severus, look!" she exclaimed, all anger forgotten. "The bed is already enlarged. Come, sit." She grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the bed next to her. They had been sitting next to each other, but when he looked over, she was clear at the other end. The bed was huge.

"We will never know the other person is in the bed," she said.

This didn't feel right. Well, it felt great, but it wasn't supposed to. He shouldn't be so excited to sleep in the same bed as Granger. Thinking of her lying with him was torture. But it would never happen...it was a betrayal to Lily and to the love he still held for her. "Granger, I don't think . . . "

"Shh." She leaned over to him conspiratorially. "It'll be our little secret. We need a place to sleep while we're here. My lips are sealed. Besides, I'm really tired."

Dammit, she'd done it again. Her smile fell off her face as her lips sealed together. A second later, she realized what had happened, and she clawed at her lips frantically. Her cries were muffled and pitiful. He grabbed her arms and held them tightly; she was a mess. Large tears splashed down her face in her hysterics.

"Calm down!" he commanded.

She was thrashing on the bed. There was nothing else to do but sit on her. Severus forced her to lie on the bed and pulled her arms over her head. Then he straddled her.

"Granger. Granger, listen to me." He spoke in his nearly silent, silky voice. "It's going to be all right."

She was calming down...she wasn't resisting him anymore as he continued to coo softly. But tears still streamed down her scared face. He brought his mouth to her ear. The smell of her perfume was overpowering this close; it smelled divine. Severus wanted nothing more than to kiss her neck or bite her earlobe and watch her skin respond to his touch. Instead he said, "All we have to do is fulfill the phrase, and you will be fine. We only have to sleep together tonight. By morning, you'll be back to normal. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head and breathed deeply through her nostrils, as if smelling him. She moaned softly and arched her hips ever so slightly underneath him. Sensing a dangerous path, he allowed himself to only brush a tear away with his thumb, then quickly dismounted. Her cheeks were stained pink. Grabbing her beaded bag and luggage, she clambered into the washroom. He unpacked his clothes and hung his robes in the corner closet. Severus hadn't been planning on anyone seeing his nightwear, but there was no helping it now. He wasn't ashamed of his cotton pajama pants or his overly large tee shirt, so he refused to transfigure them for Granger's sake.

But all thoughts of his pajamas were gone the moment she stepped out in her silky negligee. It was the same one he'd seen during her week-long sleep, the crimson red thing he'd thought about more times than he wanted to admit. And it didn't help to have her sauntering about the room. Those unruly curls flowed down her back, and they swayed in unison to the hem of the skimpy nightgown. He couldn't help his eyes dragging over her body. She was luscious. But the smirk on her face was triumphant.

"You could have transfigured your outfit, Granger," he spat.

Her eyebrows quirked at him with a look that was daring him to say it again.

More politely, he said, "It's bound to get cold during the night, after all."

She pointed her wand at the bed, and he knew she'd cast a warming charm.

"Remember, the hostess said spells on the furniture wouldn't work." He brushed past her to the bathroom, and she eyed his outfit, then snorted.

"I'm glad you can't speak. I know exactly what you'd have said, and I would have had to curse you," he emptily threatened.

Minerva had bought him the pajamas years ago, and of course they were her family's tartan print. But oddly enough, the scarlet looked quite close to the color of Granger's nightwear...they matched.

Severus waited as long as possible in the bathroom until he was sure she would be asleep. He cracked open the door and cursed under his breath when the hinges creaked. Thankfully, she was sleeping when he crawled into the bed beside her. The bed stretched out, and they were several feet away from each other. There was nothing indecent; his memory of Lily remained unscathed. Perhaps Granger had been right. It would be tolerable sharing a bed for the night.

When morning came, he found he was spooning her with a hard-on. And to make matters worse, he was on her side of the bed. In all his life he'd never moved across a bed in his sleep. He rarely even turned over. How had he gotten next to her? During the night her gown had hitched up, and his arm was wrapped around her bare stomach. What else had he done to her while his subconscious had had control? Jerking his arm away, he scrambled out of bed, not waiting to see if she was awake.

He showered, realizing only too late he'd left all his clothes out there with her. So he wrapped the towel around his waist and prayed she wasn't awake yet. But when he stepped out into the cold bedroom, she was bent over rummaging through her luggage. He could make out the rim of her firm bum. Walking stiffly over to the closet, he removed some clothes and turned to change in the privacy of the bathroom. But the door was shut. He was alone in the room. She'd stolen the loo! He'd never lived with a woman, but he'd heard of this: women were territorial and would fight to the death for their space. He hadn't thought Granger was that sort of woman.

Feeling oddly exposed, he dropped the towel and hurriedly dressed. He dried his hair wandlessly and waited for Granger to finish. It was odd that she hadn't at least greeted him this morning. Maybe she was embarrassed seeing him so ill-clad. Well, she'd done it to him last night, so she deserved it. The door opened, and he was glad to see her smartly dressed in a charcoal dress with matching robes. Her infernal hair was partially swept back, and as she approached, he could smell the Japanese cherry blossom perfume emanating from her.

He greeted her, and she smiled slightly, then grabbed the beaded bag and headed for the door. No speech from her was odd. Sadly, though he hated to admit it, he missed the sound of her voice.

"Granger, look at me," he said as she reached for the doorknob.

Slowly she turned around and tried to give him a look implying, "What?" But the quivering of her lower lip said it all. The longer she stared at him the more her eyes filled with tears, and she frowned uncontrollably before sniffing loudly.

"Your lips are still stuck, aren't they?" he asked softly.

She nodded, and a few errant tears spilled.

"Let's think about this logically," he said.

She gave him a look as if to say, "I've done that already." But he ignored her.

"You said we should sleep together . . . er, in the same bed while we were here for the convention. Then you said it would be our little secret with your lips sealed. Obviously, the curse will end once we've finished sleeping here for the convention, so by tomorrow morning you should be able to open your mouth. It's not so bad, at least you won't have to cast a Silencing Charm while you take notes."

Her stomach growled, signaling her need for sustenance. He did know of a powder she could inhale to give her the proper nourishment for a twenty-four hour period. He'd have to find an apothecary somewhere. He explained his idea and left.

They would miss the first hour or so of the convention, but things didn't really pick up until after lunch anyway. There was a large dinner planned that night for all in attendance. Too bad Granger wouldn't be able to eat, but at least she wouldn't be licking his fingers in front of their Potions peers.

After getting directions from their hostess, he bought the needed ingredients and returned to their room. Granger had a traveling Potions kit set up. Where had she been hiding that? Severus got to work grinding ingredients with the mortar and pestle and dicing dried ingredients. It was a raw powder requiring no cooking, luckily. But in the end it worked: she'd looked a bit puckish before, but after snorting the concoction, her stomach stopped growling and some color came back to her cheeks.

The lecture hall was full when they slid in through the doors and took two seats in the back row. She retrieved her parchment and took notes as usual. The speaker left a few minutes at the end for a "Questions and Answer" session, and Granger's hand predictably flew into the air. She had already been picked for a question before she'd realized she couldn't speak. Severus had to think of some trivial question he already knew the answer to, so she wouldn't look like a fool. She gave him a grateful smile but wrote on her parchment, "Was that an actual question you had?" Her smile had turned into a smirk.

Dinner finally came, and Granger was squirming in her seat as the plates were passed out to each table. Four other guests were seated with them, and Severus tried not to converse with them. In fact, he tried not to speak with anyone. Granger couldn't eat the dinner, and she looked anxiously away every time one of their table companions spoke to her. Finally, an elderly woman asked him if Granger was ill.

"No, she's just dumb," he said loudly.

The looks he got around the table were priceless. Too bad Granger couldn't talk; though he was sure she would have set off another cursed hyperbole. She stamped on his foot instead.

After the meal was eaten, those running the convention introduced the prize ceremony.

"Hello, everyone, my name is Dr. Parks. This year, we have five awards to hand out. And we'll get right down to business. Our first award is for the category 'Redefined Basic Potions Principles.' And the nominees are . . ."

Severus nudged Granger and jerked his head, showing he wanted to bail out early. He hated watching others get awards, and this category was his least favorite. In the past, before the first war had broken out, he'd entered his improved Potions but had never won. And then, after the first war, he'd entered again. Still he'd been refused his due glory. It had been because of the rumors regarding his association with the Dark Lord. So what? He had been and still was one of the best Potioneers of all time, and he knew it. But he'd stopped entering a long time ago. He didn't need peer recognition, unlike some people . . . He stood to leave, but she pulled him down and wouldn't let go of his hand. She shook her head and furrowed her brow, indicating she wanted him to stay. Then Severus remembered the paperwork Granger had been so mysterious about. Had she entered into the competitions?

"The winner is," Parks said as he dramatically opened an envelope. "Eugene Anderson from Stockholm, for his hard work in revolutionizing the Pepperup Potion."

Everyone clapped. One down, four to go. Next came the "Advancement of Potions Education" award, followed by the "Produce of Peace Potions" award.

"Our fourth award is for the category "Physiology Promoted Potions," and it's been difficult in years past to find someone who's been able to come up with even one thing worthy of nomination in this category, let alone have multiple nominees. But this year . . . "

Would the man hurry up? It was getting tiresome listening to his false cheeriness.

"And the winner is...Hermione Granger from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for her deft anti-venom that saved the renowned double agent, Severus Snape."

Holy shit, what? Granger was ecstatic. Her hands were covering her mouth, and her eyes were huge as she swiveled out of her seat and practically skipped up to the accursed man, Parks. She took the tiny golden cauldron he proffered and made small grunts. She put her free hand over her eyes, making some wild gestures indicating she was too emotional to say anything. After a moment of silence, she just nodded her head and sat back down next to him.

But the smile she gave him was smug. Actually, there wasn't a tear on her face from her performance of a cry on stage. Well, he had to hand it to her; she had a way with acting. He'd thought she was overcome with emotions at the knowledge of winning. Instead, she was only covering up her self-inflicted handicap. She shoved the golden cauldron into her beaded bag, and he heard a muffled "thunk" as it fell to the bottom of her magical purse.

Parks was announcing the next category for "Amusing and Miscellaneous Potions" when Severus saw her perk up out of his peripheral vision.

" . . . And the winner is . . . well, blow me down, it's Hermione Granger again, for her clever little Bubble Wand Potion for children."

She flaunted up there, graciously took the cauldron and put on a show of tears again. Her smile was humble, but only because her mouth was shut, and she couldn't blatantly grin. He didn't wait for her to sit down this time but instead, left the conference hall. He didn't care if Grange followed him or not. He wasn't going to watch her gloat and playact for everyone else in the room. He was no fool. She'd only won those awards because she was president of the Harry Potter Club.

The air was sharp as he stepped out into the night. A streetlight flickered as he turned the corner. The whole thing was just a popularity contest. He would admit her anti-venom was clever, but it had only saved one life...his. And it couldn't even be used again, considering Nagini was dead, thank Merlin. So why did Granger get the award? And then the bubble wand? Come on, it was a silly child's toy. He'd made better advancements with all of his potions in the past, and he couldn't win a stinking award. Who cared? He sure as hell didn't. At least he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He stamped the snow off his boots at the entryway of the September Sky Bed and Breakfast. Most of the lights were off, so he quietly climbed the stairs to his...their room. The silence was peaceful and calming. He was tired too from listening to so many idiots and their pitiful research. Why had he even agreed to go? Because it was the first convention since he had been revived? They only held these conventions every five years, and he'd missed the last one because he had been in stasis. He forgot how irksome it all was.

He threw his boots into the closet and hung up his robes. He was pulling up his pajama bottoms when the door opened. His back was her, but he knew Granger was watching him, so he pretended to not see her as he pulled the shirt over his head. Without a word or a look in her direction, he swept into the loo and slammed the door. He was sure it wasn't as impressive as it ought to be since he didn't have his robes to billow behind him, but he had to work with what he had.