Like Old Times

Chapter Eleven – Like Old Times

"Miss Granger, could you please stop staring at me?" Severus growled in exasperation. For the last three hours, they had been in the cellar of Snape's home, trying to get the base for the Adficio Affectus right, and Severus' patience was wearing thin.

After Hermione had diced, ground, and purified all the ingredients, Severus had her read the instructions to him out of the old book. The old script was difficult to decipher, and after one batch failed because she wasn't fast enough, Severus snatched the book out of her hands. It was now floating at his eye-level next to the cauldron of boiling liquid. Severus was, however, not making much progress either.

He had confined Hermione to a corner of the room, so she would not get in his way. The room was small and much more unorganized than the labs at Hogwarts. The diffused electric light gave the room a strange greenish, wet glow. The room was boiling hot from the open fire, and Severus had unbuttoned his shirt almost halfway and rolled up his sleeves.

Hermione couldn't stop admiring the lean form and precise movement of her former professor. 'He smells divine too,' Hermione's mind provided unhelpfully. Her curiosity about him, and the potion, prompted her to walk up to him and peer into the cauldron now and again, only to be met by his piercing gaze and a growled command to seat herself again.

Severus, for his part, was swearing and grumbling to himself, unsatisfied with his progress, or lack thereof. The old, handwritten script was extremely cramped, some letters blending together, others almost faded. Severus added a drop of Manticore blood and stepped back from the brew. The base turned a dark red before giving off an incredible amount of thick, pink smoke.

"OUT! Hermione, get out!" Severus bellowed, clapping a hand over his mouth and running for the door. Outside, he stood panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. He looked around, noticing with horror that Hermione hadn't followed. He strode back into the room and immediately started coughing. The smoke had receded somewhat, but the air was still heavy with it. He peered around, his eyes stinging severely.

Hermione was lying next to the cauldron, wand in hand. Severus hurried over and picked her up carefully. The moment he stepped into the corridor, he warded the door. Then, he carried the young woman up the stairs.

Still in his arms, Hermione's eyelids fluttered open. She gave him a hesitant smile that drove the fear Severus felt away. "Sorry," Hermione whispered, blushing for no apparent reason. "I thought a containment or stasis charm would do the trick."

Severus stared at her in disbelief. He had run and she, Gryffindor that she was, had faced the supposed danger. He shook his head and set her down. By rights he should be angry with her, but his relief about her being well made him laugh out loud.

Hermione joined in his mirth, feeling strangely carefree and unconcerned. Severus also felt elated, as if there was no world outside this house, just the two of them. Their mingled laughter turned into near hysterics. Hermione clutched his arm to keep her balance, so intense was the sensation. Severus shuddered at the contact, his deep chuckles stopping as abruptly as they had started. Hermione's tittering abated as well.

The silence around them was ripe with an un-named tension. Their eyes locked, and in unspoken agreement, they moved closer to each other until their arms were wound around each other, and their lips met in an unplanned but passionate kiss.

In the cellar room, the potion was bubbling merrily, the smoke forming little pink circles before receding slowly.

~o~o~o~

With a resounding thump, Harry and Ron landed at Minerva McGonagall's feet, in what had once been Dumbledore's office. Little had changed in the months since Harry had last been there. The perch Fawkes had always occupied was gone, along with several of the curious instruments that had always fascinated Harry.

"Shouldn't have eaten that second helping," Ron huffed, holding on to Harry's arm with a vice-like grip. His face had a slightly green tinge, and his breathing was irregular.

"I would welcome it, if you could refrain from making a mess in my office, Mister Weasley," McGonagall said in her stern, authoritative voice.

Harry suppressed a chuckle. It felt so much like old times. "Hello, Professor," he greeted his former Head of House.

"Sit down, boys," she commanded. "We have to wait for Remus and Arthur. I have no idea why they refused to take the Portkey, but well... Would you care for a cup of tea?"

Harry and Ron settled themselves in the plush armchairs in front of the desk, nodding their assent to McGonagall's offer.

"Maybe you'd like a lemon drop as well? I always enjoyed one when I indulged in a late-morning cuppa."

Startled, the young men turned to face the familiar voice. Albus Dumbledore's portrait-self was lounging in an overstuffed armchair, his hands drumming softly against his frame.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, though sadness immediately tore at his heart, his eyes stinging with tears. Dumbledore levelled his warm blue eyes at the boy, who had come to mean the world to him.

"No need for tears, Harry," Dumbledore admonished kindly. "My death was a necessity; you will understand it in time. I had a fulfilling life, and I'll never be completely gone."

Harry couldn't help the tears from coming, though he nodded his understanding. Ron just kept quiet, feeling like an intruder. This was a private conversation that, although not much was spoken, told volumes about the depth of their connection.

McGonagall returned with a laden tray, oblivious to what had happened in her office while she prepared the brew, and had the elves send some biscuits from the kitchens. The portrait-Dumbledore was now leaning against the frame, his eyes closed. If either Harry or Ron found it odd, neither said anything.

"He's always asleep, that one." McGonagall huffed. She had tried to rouse Albus repeatedly, without success. "I think Albus did that on purpose. The portrait must be charmed somehow," she said to no one in particular.

Strange, Harry thought, what reason could Dumbledore have to pretend sleep?

During the next hour of idle chat about old times, and a boringly detailed account of McGonagall's school days, Harry watched the portrait out of the corner of his eye. He swore he saw the mouth twitch now and again. There was, however, no obvious sign that Dumbledore might be awake.

Just as Ron's stomach announced the lunch hour with a loud growl, Remus and Arthur entered the office. They were covered in mud and greenery, looking like two soldiers who had spent the last hour skulking about through the forest.

"Someone burned Malfoy Manor to the ground," Arthur explained while McGonagall attempted to clean their clothes with a few well-meant spells. "We have been searching the area and the ruins for clues," he went on. "There is no telling if there was anyone in there during the fire."

"Does Dra..." Ron started, but Harry kicked him quite forcefully, cutting of his sentence. McGonagall looked at the younger redhead for a moment. Something was going on, and she didn't like being kept in the dark.

"The incident is going to be kept within the Ministry for now," Remus said, quite unaware of the older woman's suspicions. "They think it is best not to interfere with quarrels between Death Eaters."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Harry asked. It didn't make sense to Harry. Why would a Death Eater burn down the house of another? To conceal some other crime, perhaps; he was confused about this new development.

"I have no clue, nor does anyone else," Arthur answered.

"Why were you there anyway?" Ron piped up. "Mum would have a fit if she knew you were sneaking around there again."

"Someone we have in, let's say custody," Arthur replied, looking Harry in the eyes, willing him to understand the hint, "has finally started talking. He told us where to look, but when we arrived at the Manor, the whole place was swarming with Aurors and Ministry officials.

"Who is this mysterious informant?" McGonagall asked; she felt as if she was missing something crucial.

"I can't tell you, Minerva," Arthur said, avoiding her eyes. "For his safety, I can't tell."

McGonagall huffed. Fine, she thought, I'll find out somehow. Remus could be bugged into telling her, she was sure. Quickly changing the subject, she told the others that she had un-warded the labs, restocked the stores, and that the house-elves had prepared rooms for them.

Silently, they all followed the new headmistress out of the office. Harry couldn't help looking back at Dumbledore's portrait one last time. He received a conspiratorial wink and a small, mischievous smile for his trouble.

~o~o~o~

Severus Snape felt like floating. The young woman in his arms kept her body pressed tightly to his, her soft lips moving against his own. Her tongue started probing his mouth, asking for entrance. He granted it with a deep, guttural growl. This was what he had wanted for some weeks now. His dreams and fantasies about their first kiss did no justice to the sweet reality of the moment.

Hermione was in a daze. The moment she had seen his dark eyes alight with worry and a deep longing, she felt compelled to kiss him. It was an irrational, emotion-driven action, one that was quite unlike her. He clung to her with both arms; she could almost taste the urgency and desperation behind his kiss. In automatic response, she attempted to deepen the kiss, which he allowed.

The potion, meanwhile, was changing from a deep ruby red into a pure white. The surface became as still as a deep lake, and the last of the smoke vanished into nothingness.

Hermione felt her mind clear simultaneously. She became aware of her current situation and drew back horrified.

"Professor... I..." she stuttered.

"Severus, my dear. Call me Severus," was her companion's breathless reply before he covered her lips with his again.

Hermione struggled against him. She felt helpless. Why was he kissing her? Why had she allowed it? With more strength than she thought she had, she pushed her former professor away and fled to her bedroom.

Severus remained standing where he was, not knowing what had just transpired. He shook his head at the absurdity of it all before descending the stairs to see if the smoke had cleared in his makeshift lab.

~o~o~o~

"I really can't understand why we have to sleep in the dungeons," Ron whined, chewing on a piece of bacon absentmindedly.

"And in the Slytherins' dorms as well," Harry repeated the complaint that he had voiced to McGonagall several times.

"She could have allowed us to sleep in Gryffindor tower. I find it creepy down here," Ron agreed wholeheartedly.

The headmistress had decided that it was best if they all stayed together and close to the labs in case anything happened. After the attack in the summer, she was not sure that the castle's ward could not be breached or passed again. The best option was the students dormitories, the Slytherin dormitories to be exact. It meant they could be in close proximity to the Potions office and the labs that could accessed from there.

If Harry and Ron were honest, they had to admit that it was quite exciting too. They could explore the rooms of their enemies, maybe discover some secrets. They were too busy grumbling about it, however, to see the opportunities that no other student before them ever had. Not just now anyway.

A/N: Aww, the first kiss. Now, why does Hermione run? I sure wouldn't.

And Harry and Ron sleeping in the Slytherin dorms, oh I think Salazar's ghost is going to haunt me for this.