13-Dec

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

--------

13 December

"Four dozen!" Minerva McGongall crowed triumphantly. Hermione, who was having trouble refraining from fidgeting, crossed her legs and bounced the suspended foot lightly up and down. The Headmistress was positively beside herself with glee.

"We managed it," she announced to her staff, who all looked profoundly disinterested, save for kindly little Filius. "The Minister has asked me to thank each and every one of you personally. With that rash of teakettle recalls and everyone Flooing in from eight other countries needing special treatment for that curse, they just hadn't the room to house nearly fifty people."

"Where on earth did you put them, Minerva?" Pomona Sprout asked, wide-eyed. Hermione had to confess that she'd been wondering the very same thing. The Ministry of Magic had for months intended to house the four dozen assorted professors, adjunct professors, and of-age students who were traveling to London for the International Symposium on Magical Education. The sudden influx of injuries due to a rash of serial curses on popular purchases, especially kitchen items, had filled the beds of practically every Wizarding hotel in addition to the wards of St. Mungo's.

"Here and there," the Headmistress replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Suffice it to say, it took some work, but we've just managed to find the room. The Room of Requirement will be used for a dormitory to house the students...separate sections for male and female, of course...and the adults will inhabit various free guest and staff quarters. I daresay there's not a free bed remaining in this castle!"

"Goodness, this will be exciting," Madam Pomfrey remarked. It was unusual for her to venture down from the infirmary for a staff meeting. Hermione suspected that the Headmistress had demanded the presence of every adult in the castle. Even Trelawney had descended from her putrid, incense-soaked lair to walk among other human beings.

Snape, of course, looked the most put out of all, though he had no legitimate reason to be: he taught classes and was therefore required to attend every staff meeting. Only Trelawney seemed habitually able to worm her way out of that requirement, undoubtedly with the help of a convenient fit of Sight and copious amounts of cooking sherry.

Hermione found herself observing him with an anticipatory thrill, but she couldn't very well give away her secret before Filius had had a chance to explain the situation and accept the credit due him. Willing herself to remain calm, she halted her bouncing foot and forced her ankles together, wincing as one ankle bone struck the other.

"Good thing, too, isn't it?" mused the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, an older man whom Hermione had met only briefly when she'd been officially announced as Filius' apprentice. "I can't speak for everyone else, but I wouldn't have the power to force to castle to alter shape. I doubt anyone since Albus Dumbledore has had that capability."

"We don't even know the spells," the Headmistress admitted. "I'm sure Albus' portrait could tell us some, but even he wasn't required to charm new rooms into existence during his time. It would be next to impossible.

"But all that is behind us," she continued briskly, energized again. "We must ensure that all plans for the visiting faculty are in order. All Heads of House have reported to me individually that they've spoken with their students. The kitchens are, of course, prepared. I have lists of the faculty who will be rooming in each section of the castle; I will hand them to you individually some time this afternoon before our visitors arrive. I expect each of you to make an effort to get to know those staying near you and offer them any assistance they should wish.

"Visiting students will have their own common room as well as the library in which to study, and I've also given them permission to audit all lecture classes...though not midterm exams, of course. Do be sure to leave the doors open for a few extra minutes in case any should decide to join you and have difficulty finding the correct room."

All the professors nodded absently. Hermione nodded as well, though with impatience. Filius had caught her eye, and he winked at her and nodded. He wasn't likely to forget, she knew, but anxiety drove her to fret.

"Now," the Headmistress said, "are there any other announcements before we adjourn?"

"I do have one announcement," her mentor piped up in his characteristic squeak. Hermione immediately sat up straighter, breath bated. "Would you like to do the honors, Miss Granger, or shall I?"

Hermione found, with all eyes on her, that her tongue felt rather fuzzy. She nodded in his direction and he continued, "Well, it's rather an appropriate time to discuss this, as we've been talking about making modifications to the castle. Miss Granger and I are pleased to announce that we have a rather early Christmas gift for Severus."

Snape's eyes narrowed reflexively, sliding from the tiny Charms professor to Hermione in a smooth, fluid movement. "I beg your pardon?" he intoned with just a refined hint of perplexity.

"It was Hermione's idea, really, and she should get most of the credit," Filius assured them all. "I simply used some of my professional connections to get a hold of a few obscure books..."

Snape's expression had advanced from bewildered to downright suspicious. Hermione wondered if he ever indulged in simple confusion or leapt automatically into the highest state of paranoia. "If you'll recall, Professor Snape," she began, "you mentioned late last month that you wished you could charm the ceilings in your rooms."

Her voice had come dangerously close to quavering; Snape's gaze on her face and eyes was far too intense. "You told us that no amount of torchlight, even magically enhanced, managed to provide enough illumination during winter evenings. Well, I mentioned to Professor Flitwick that we might be able to modify the ancient charm used on the ceiling of the Great Hall..."

"Not to reflect the weather, of course," Filius clarified. "I'm afraid that particular portion of the incantation...though it would be too sophisticated for us anyway...has been lost to the ages. We couldn't find any way to piece it together in its entirety with the materials we looked through."

"We did find the basics, though," Hermione hastened to add, forcing herself to meet Snape's eyes levelly and speak in a cool, professional tone, "and we're confident that we can charm the ceilings of your rooms to provide greater illumination when you wish it. It will be similar to transmitting and extending daylight from the outdoors."

Snape looked unconvinced. "I'm afraid that's the only analogy I can provide you," she said, a little sheepishly. "You see, it's rather complicated spell work. But Professor Flitwick and I have been researching exhaustively..."

"And we're happy to proceed whenever everyone can be spared to lend us help to augment our power," Filius finished with a graceful nod of his head. "We'd be much obliged. Hermione and I can handle the incantation ourselves, but the more raw power we can combine, the better off we shall be!"

"How intriguing, Severus," the Headmistress remarked in a probing tone. She was regarding her Potions Master with a stern look. "I'm sure you're anxious to proceed as soon as possible. You were quite voluble in your whining..."

"I do not whine, madam," he shot back silkily. "I was merely making an observation. The increased illumination would be... much appreciated."

"Then what better time to proceed than the present?" she said with finality. "We're all here...even Poppy and Sibyl...and can lend a hand."

"Splendid!" Filius cried happily, clapping his little hands in excitement. "Lead the way, Severus! You'll have some improved reading light tonight, I daresay!"

Snape duly led the large, chattering procession of Hogwarts faculty on the long trek to the dungeons. Hermione brought up the rear, her excitement having vanished and replaced immediately by heavy trepidation. Snape didn't look at all enthused about their project. She'd never seen him truly enthusiastic about anything, granted...she rather suspected a full smile would shatter his stiff, grim facial bones...but he didn't look remotely pleased or grateful.

He looked, in fact, like he wished to verbally pin her to a wall as he would have an errant fourth-year. His shoulders were rigid as they made their way down the damp stairs, his strides punctuated and edgy.

She could only hope that he would like his gift after the fact, when everyone had cleared his rooms and he was left with some much-desired peace. Attending regular staff meetings had elucidated very little for Hermione as to the true nature and personality of the acerbic Potions Master, but one fact she knew beyond a doubt was that he cherished his privacy.

When they finally arrived, everyone gathered outside the room, their easy conversations turning to hushed speculation. Hermione realized that Snape and Filius were flanking the door to his chambers, waiting for her. She'd never been inside them before, and the idea of entering his rooms...the place where he read his books, took his meals, and indulged in whatever pastimes required that beloved privacy...stole her breath suddenly.

He held the heavy oak door open, his lips curved slightly. She flashed suddenly on his expression when assigning them a particularly brutal potion and wondered if it was a peculiar brand of satisfaction he derived from seeing her daunted. Meeting his eyes and squaring her shoulders, she moved past him purposefully and stood in the center of his living room, trying to recall how to breathe again.

His chambers were... beautiful. There was simply no other word to describe them. They weren't frilly or lush in a feminine way, of course...there was a subtly dark and definite masculinity in the décor...but they were situated in precisely the way Hermione had imagined that he would organize his private life. The furniture, though deeply colored in blacks and browns, was sumptuous, as was the dark cream-colored carpeting; floor-to-ceiling shelves of incomparably lovely cherrywood lined three of the four walls; and the few objets d'art on the mantel above the fireplace were tasteful and clearly expensive.

He was a closet hedonist, it seemed. She looked at the thick, plush carpet before the fireplace, undoubtedly comfortable and warm to the touch, and lustfully envisioned its possibilities.

Filius wasted no time, organizing everyone into a circle. He had to beseech them to hold hands, as Poppy Pomfrey harbored an obvious distrust of Sibyl Trelawney. To worsen matters, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor looked disinclined to allow physical contact with anyone. Once they'd finally...and grudgingly...taken hold of others' hands and were in the required orientation, he nodded at Hermione from his position, diametrically opposite hers.

Hermione had ended up by Snape. As a matter of fact, he'd seemed set from the beginning on where he intended to stand, and it was directly beside her. She'd been startled at first and then slid into suspicion, figuring he wanted to be right there to witness her nervousness. Unfortunately, she was destined to indulge him if she didn't take a deep breath and speak clearly.

She began the incantation, and Filius joined her. The others stared at the ceiling with fleeting interest, then grew bored as the incantation lingered on and on. Finally, Filius murmured, "Now for the final words, Miss Granger," and she found herself instinctively squeezing the hands of her neighbors especially hard as she delivered the last words. Professor Sprout squeezed her hand back reassuringly, but Snape's remained impassive, almost inert. His skin was thick and cool.

For a long moment nothing happened, and Trelawney began to mutter under her breath. A sound, thunderous and reverberating, came from above them, and all murmuring ceased. Hermione was just about to give in to despair and pronounce their attempt ineffective when a telltale cracking rang throughout the room.

"Run!" Trelawney shouted. For perhaps the first and only time in the duration of her tenure at Hogwarts, everyone trusted her judgment; they practically dove out of the circle at a desperate speed, just quickly enough to avoid the rain of stone and wood.

In the aftermath, Hermione found herself squashed between Sprout and Snape on the floor, her face pressed against the now-dusty carpet. Coughing, she wiped off her lips and dusted off her robes, and looked up.

She instantly regretted it. The hole that had resulted in the ceiling of Snape's quarters was immense. From above them, sudden and agitated shouting could be heard as students several floors up peered through the newly created portal. A few waved tentatively and one had the audacity to call out, "Hello down there. Say, are you all in the dungeons?"

"Professor Snape," called another voice cheekily, "is that your living room?"

Across the circle from her, the Headmistress groaned. "I can't repair this," she said, throwing up her arms in frustration. "It's beyond my capability and that of everyone here, I presume. We'll have to call for the Ministry. The Department of Magical Architecture will have to be consulted. There's no way to patch it up in the meantime, not without risking further damage."

"The architects are all at Gringotts," Filius said, resignation entering his voice. "That faction, the last of You-Know-Who's followers, turned out to be responsible for the bombing. I understand they're having quite a challenging time of it, what with all the goblin curses inherent in the building..."

"There's nothing for it, then," the Headmistress announced. "Severus, you shall have to return to your house and commute every day. I've simply nothing else to offer you..."

"My only alternate residence," Snape returned, his voice nearly frozen with anger, "has been sold."

"Then you shall have to stay in someone else's rooms, I'm afraid. I realize it's not an ideal situation, but we're all adults here, and the problem was created with the best of intentions, I'm sure."

"Indeed," Filius insisted, turning anguished eyes on Snape. "I'm really very sorry, Severus. I simply can't account for... unless the structure had already been undermined by another charm... In any case, either Hermione or I would be more than happy to provide you with some temporary accommodation, I'm sure."

"Hermione is still in the Gryffindor hall, is she not?" Professor Vector spoke up thoughtfully. "Those rooms are slightly expandable, within reason. I can't create an entirely new one, but I'm sure Albus could help us enlarge her living room to section off a separate bedroom, at least. No other part of the castle will be open enough to allow that..."

Hermione could actually feel the air move as Snape's head swiveled to pierce her with his gaze. She'd been certain that the Headmistress would object to a male professor taking up residence in the rooms of a female apprentice...even if she was another professor's apprentice...but apparently the desperate need for extra space outweighed all other considerations.

Twelve days, she realized. Twelve days lay ahead in which she would have to live with Snape, at the very least, before Christmas Day arrived and their international visitors Portkeyed back to their homes to celebrate. There was no telling how much more time might pass before the magical architects returned from Gringotts and from their holiday to fix his chambers.

Snape practically growled his response as Hermione groaned dejectedly.