Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was a beautiful day in late November when the halting relationship between Ron and Hermione finally drew its last breath. Had Ron not been so afraid of confrontations, and Hermione not so fond of lost causes, they might have ended it amicably.

As it was, they ended it with a shouting match in the Gryffindor Common Room, loud enough to ensure that a very gossipy third-year could tell her rumor-mongering, Ravenclaw friend that Ron Weasley – yes, the Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's friend – had shouted at Hermione Granger that she was a cold-hearted bookworm. Then Hermione had shouted something back, but the words had unfortunately been impossible to hear because she'd hit him with some hex or another at the same time. A very impressive hex, too. Ron's nose had gone red, and he'd started sprouting multi-coloured antlers.

While Hermione fumed in her dormitory, muttering under her breath about knowing Ron to have the emotional range of a teaspoon, Ron was in the Hospital Wing, cursing loudly. Hermione hadn't hit him with a hex; it had been a charm used for Christmas decorations and it had been very easily fixed, despite having never been tried on a human subject before. That didn't change the fact that Ron had been forced to pass half the school before he'd got rid of the red nose and colour-changing antlers. It made him feel scorned, ridiculed and silly, on top of already feeling unwanted by Hermione's lack of attention. He was in a very bad mood indeed.

---

A full two hours passed before Severus heard about the incident at his Sunday lunch in the Great Hall. At first he smirked, leaning back in his chair while picturing Ronald Weasley to himself, red nosed and with antlers. He sipped his tea, trying not to chuckle at this picture. It wouldn't do for Professor Snape to chuckle in front of the students. He liked them to be afraid of him, thank you very much: it made keeping order in class so much easier.

As he put down his cup, he heard Minerva and Filius discussing Hermione's charm work. Severus allowed himself a brief moment of pride on Hermione's behalf. He knew he had no right to it, but he didn't much care. She'd broken off with her boyfriend, and his goal looked attainable again. Severus was going to be a happy man. The real Miss Granger showed great promise in being just as desirable as his Hermione had been: powerful, intelligent, and passionate. He cleared his throat as his brain came up with memories of just how passionate his Hermione had been. This was neither the time nor place. He could wank to the idea of her in his shower later like he normally did on Sundays.

This was the time to move forward with his plan to seduce Herm – damnation! – Miss Granger. While she had been in a relationship, he hadn't dared approach her. It could have backfired in a thousand ways. Now he needed to make a move before some other young imbecile noticed how damn sexy she looked.

"Are you feeling alright, Severus?" Minerva's voice roused him from his thoughts.

"What?" he snapped, annoyed at being distracted from thinking about his plan. Well, about Miss Granger's hips really, but why be so fastidious?

"You look a little ... flushed," Minerva stated uncomfortably, "there's been a bout of flu amongst the students. Maybe you've caught a bug?" she sounded incredulous, and with good reason. Severus hadn't been ill since he was fourteen. He'd been injured often enough, but never ill. For Severus to have caught the flu would be as normal as him trooping up for breakfast dressed in a red shirt.

Severus stared at her. Now that she mentioned it, his cheeks did feel warm. "Dratted dunderheads," he grumbled. "This is exactly why I didn't want to go back to teaching." Keep your perverted fantasies in the privacy of your chambers, you dolt, he berated himself. He was nearly forty, for Merlin's sake. There was no excuse for him to start acting like a blasted hormonal teenager again.

He ate the remainder of his lunch in a hurry, determined to return to his chambers and not to leave them again until breakfast on Monday. Maybe an early shower would be in order too. It would not be a cold one, either. Severus happened to believe in indulging himself. No one else would, after all.

---

There was something decidedly odd going on, Severus had determined by dinnertime on Monday. During his last Potions class, he'd caught two sixth-year Slytherin girls looking speculatively at him. And when he had finally lost his patience with their giggling and given them a detention, they had both laughed so hard they could hardly stand, until he had told them to meet up at Filch's office. To his satisfaction they had both looked decidedly glum after that. A student giggling at detention given by their sour Potions professor wasn't normal. Not at all. It had continued while he walked up to dinner: two seventh-year Hufflepuff girls had been whispering behind their hands as he walked past, both blushing furiously.

He lingered in the shadows outside the Great Hall, determined to find the answer to this strange behaviour among the older girls in the castle. It was nothing new to have students whispering about him, casting furtive glances at the bat of the dungeons. But the giggling and the blushing ... now that was new. Severus didn't like it.

"Well, it was in Witch Weekly," he could hear one say to another.

Severus scoffed at this. That sad excuse for a magazine contained even more rubbish than the Quibbler, impossible as that seemed.

Unfortunately, though, neither reading nor gossiping about the publication was against school rules, so he couldn't deduct house points. This fact made him even more sour, and he kept listening, hoping to find an excuse to give someone, anyone, a detention. He had potions ingredients that needed grinding.

"Really? Well, just imagine if it's actually, you know, true!" the other replied, then they both giggled like the dunderheads they were.

Severus shifted his weight, wishing they'd just get to the point, rather than chatting away like fools.

"Do you think it is? True?" More laughter.

Severus took a deep breath, trying not to grind his teeth. It gave him a headache, and he was already in a foul enough mood as it was.

"Well, who knows? Those black, billowing robes could hide anything, if you know what I mean –"

"Anything! If it's true, they'd be hiding something huge!" The snickering had reached hysteric proportions.

"By the size of his nose, he'd be hung like a bloody Hippogriff!"

Severus blinked, then he performed an ear-cleansing charm, just to be sure he wasn't imagining things. They were talking about his ... well, his ... assets? Slightly dumbfounded, he walked into the Great Hall, sinking into the seat beside Minerva. He absentmindedly heaped green beans and mashed potatoes onto his plate, reaching for the pork chops. Since when did admittedly stupid, yet undeniably pretty girls of seventeen consider what was hiding under his robes? He frowned at his plate. Did Hermio – Miss Granger – too, contemplate his assets? This development worried him. While it might be a good thing to have her thinking about him as a man, rather than as a teacher, it wasn't good at all to have her thinking he was 'hung like a bloody Hippogriff'. Especially since he wasn't. He stabbed his beans as if wishing to murder them.

---

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione turned to see Professor Snape walking towards her. He looked as tall and foreboding as always in that billowing cloak of his, but she smiled at him anyway. He had been very nice to her over the last months. Not to anyone else, just her. At first, this fact had baffled her, but now she thought it might be because she'd saved his life. He might be a prickly man, but he was very honourable.

"I –" He hesitated, his fingers fiddling with a book he held.

It stunned Hermione. Professor Snape didn't fiddle or hesitate! He was always commanding and self-assured.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, more to break the silence than anything else. Professor Snape fiddling! Who'd believe her if she told them?

"Professor McGonagall informed me that you've ended your liaison with Mr. Weasley," he stated.

Hermione couldn't stop herself from grinning at him. It wasn't because he took an interest in her life, it was the tone he'd used when saying 'Mr. Weasley', like the Weasley in question was as desirable as termites, or dry rot. Right now, with Ron's immature behaviour for something that was really his fault – well, both of their faults, to be honest, but mostly his! – Snape's attitude was very welcome. Ron should just accept that she had every right to be angry when he accused her of being cold. It was hardly her fault that the charm somehow had worked on his person. If he couldn't even get over the embarrassment of being seen with antlers for ten minutes, he really was just an immature ass. An immature ass who no longer spoke to her, just like Ron always chose to act. Boys!

"I have, sir," she said out loud, curious as to what Professor Snape wanted. He'd never, in all their brief conversations, asked about her private life.

"And not on amiable terms," he continued, "I must say, I'm impressed with the foolish wand-waving involved from your side." His face, as usual, revealed little sign of amusement. But she knew him better now, and could discern a slight twitch of his lips, as if he was trying not to smile.

"Thank you. I know you're not easily impressed," she replied. Then she wondered why she hadn't told him that it had been unintentional. But she was sure there was no need to defend her actions to Professor Snape.

"Indeed." He inclined his head slightly.

By now, Hermione was ready to burst with curiosity. While Snape was friendly these days, he had never stopped her in the hallway before. Admittedly, it was a deserted hallway, but still ...

---

Severus wished, for the first time in his life, that he had some of that Gryffindor ability to blurt out his quandary. How hard could it be to ask the girl to accompany him over Christmas break? He had made a detailed, credible excuse, like the Slytherin he was. Cringing internally at his lack of courage, he breathed in deeply, determined to say what he'd stopped her to say.

"Miss Granger, I have a favour to ask of you." She likes to help! he told his revolted pride. It's for the best, you old loner.

"The matter stands thus: Over the last years, I have worked on an improvement of the Wolfsbane Potion." So far it was all true. If forced to lie, always use as much truth as possible.

"Really?" Her face lit up beautifully in her enthusiasm. He could see that she wanted to heap him with questions, but she'd gained more self-control over the last year, and settled for squirming slightly with impatience.

"Really." He smirked at her. It should have been a smile, he knew, but Severus didn't smile. If the girl decided that she wanted him, she'd have to take the whole package. He was perfectly willing to whiten his teeth for her. The same generosity would not be extended to his acerbic personality.

"I have, however, reached a stage in my testing where I find myself unable to brew on my own. In short, I'm in need of an assistant." This was also true, but now came the half-truth.

"Also, I find that my teaching duties prevent me from focusing fully on my brewing. Therefore, I had hoped to use the weeks of the Christmas break to implement my new ideas." He was a master at multi-tasking. After teaching for so many years, he was sure he could teach in his sleep. He had successfully pretended to be a Death Eater, kept Potter from getting himself killed and kept up a full-time teaching position, simultaneously. He sure as hell could brew in-between classes.

"If you agree to be my assistant, you would of course, be free to leave at the end of each day. However, my private lab is in my cottage in Wales. It's not easily reached by Apparation. Therefore, I'm obliged to offer you the spare room for the duration."

As expected, she gaped at him.

"Er – you want me to stay at your house? In Wales?" she asked, sounding incredulous.

He inclined his head slightly. In Wales, she'd be safely away from any dunderheaded boys likely to flirt with who was to become his Hermione – Miss Granger. Oh, blast!

"I'll leave you to decide, Miss Granger. Tell me of your decision after next Potions class." He smirked at her again before turning to leave, pleased with the progress of his plan.

---

Hermione stood staring after Professor Snape, feeling a strange and very inappropriate desire to run after him and hug him closely. The world, surely, had gone mad? Since when did Professor Snape invite students to spend the holidays with him? Admittedly, he had seemed very reluctant, and it was for his research. She knew, after getting to know him a little better, that he actually liked brewing potions. He hated teaching the subject, but he was fond enough of brewing to plan on starting up his own potions company come summer.

Plus, they did get along, sort of. At least ... he presented interesting conversation. Yet for him to tolerate her company for over three weeks was very strange. But it was also a highly welcome invitation. Her parents still lived in Australia, and her application for a Portkey had been buried in paperwork. Originally, her plan had been to join Harry and the Weasleys at the newly rebuilt Burrow, but with Ron in a snit, that wasn't an option. She could just imagine him giving her a cold shoulder for the entire holiday, while Mrs. Weasley offered her a frosty 'Merry Christmas'. The only option that had been left to her, before Professor Snape's invitation, had been to visit her relatives. The choice had stood between her father's brother, Charles, who had recently remarried for the third time, to his secretary, once again; or her mother's sister Agatha, who had five children under the age of ten, all seemingly always high on sugar; or lastly, her Grandma Jane, who still talked to Hermione as if she was five years old and insisted she went to bed before nine. Compared to them, Christmas with Snape seemed like the perfect holiday. But then again, a holiday with the Giant Squid would have seemed quite nice by now.

She hardly needed the two days until next Potions class to decide. There was no doubt in her mind – Christmas would be spent with Professor Snape.