Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Have you lost your marbles, Severus Snape?" Minerva's voice was alarmingly shrill. It did nothing to help Severus' budding headache.

"Inviting a student to stay with you, alone I will add, for the Christmas holiday?" She sank back down into her chair. "What were you thinking? Consider the rumours, Severus!"

"I was thinking about my research into the field of potions against lycanthropy, Minerva. Rumours are hardly anything I concern myself with," he made sure to use his most suffering voice. Gryffindors were easy to manipulate: of course he knew there would be rumours - if anyone found out.

He had been extraordinarily pleased when Herm - Miss Granger - accepted his proposal, even if it had been expected. She never had been one to refuse an offer to learn something new, and he had offered her a part in researching a new potion. It was like dangling sweets in front of, well, Weasley, for one. Easy. Of course, it wouldn't have been so easy if not for the fact that Miss Granger resembled his Hermione on this point.

"Yes, admirable, of course, but ... why a student? A female student! Imagine what people would say!" Minerva shook her head in exasperation, as if he was one of her constantly misbehaving students.

"You forget that I have taught her myself. I know she's up to my standards," he sneered, "besides, as you reminded me when I found Potter and Miss Weasley in a compromising position on the Astronomy Tower, she is of age." He hadn't really wanted to expel Potter as he had now resigned himself to tolerating the boy. Potter was a friend of Hermione. One Potter had ruined his hopes for the future; he would be damned if he let his less than friendly feelings for this one ruin his chances with Hermione. Getting a girl's best friend expelled had never done wonders for any suitor.

"Besides, they need not know." He leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to take the bait.

"Severus! Everything that happens in this castle is known within minutes - it's like the walls themselves have ears!"

"Thanks to the gossiping, meddling paintings," Severus informed her curtly, "you merely have to say that Miss Granger is going to spend her Christmas break working with a tutor on an advanced project due to her impressive scholarly accomplishments."

"Well, but -" It seemed Minerva realised that this was the simple truth, "-I'm still responsible for her! It's hardly advisable to send a young woman alone to Wales with her teacher!"

Severus smirked. "What do you think I'm going to do to her, Minerva? Seduce her? Lure the bookish Miss Granger into spending the holiday in my bed, exploring the positions of the Kama Sutra?" Now, there was an idea ...

"Really, Severus!" Minerva was pink right up to her hat brim. She looked so shocked that Severus had trouble not chuckling. People never seemed to understand his sense of humour, but that was half the fun.

"Then what's the problem?" he drawled. Only Gryffindors lied outright. He had told Minerva just about the truth, yet she would never believe him. Not that he planned to explore the Kama Sutra with Her - Miss - Oh, blast! Now he didn't even know what to call the girl! He could, however, wank to the fantasy of them exploring it.

"Oh, well of course I know you'd never ... take liberties," Minerva informed him. "I'm merely concerned about propriety!"

"This isn't the sixteenth century, Minerva. If the girl could spend a year camping with two teenage boys, I'm sure she'll survive three weeks in my company. Or do you perhaps wish me to inform Miss Granger that you found the idea improper? She seemed set on helping -"

He saw Minerva pale, no doubt imagining the lecture on women's rights she would get if Hermione heard she'd been denied something because she was a girl. "No, no," she said hastily. "We'll tell people it's an ... extracurricular project."

Severus rose, inclining his head slightly at his colleague. He had things to plan. Miss - oh, damnation! Hermione - was to spend three weeks with him in Wales. Three weeks was quite some time, but not nearly sufficient to make a young woman fall in love with her acerbic old bat of a teacher. He gritted his teeth, determined not to start thinking negatively again. Severus knew full well he was not handsome by any definition of the word. He merely had to get Hermione to see something else in him; and not his foul mood and bitter persona, either. As usual when he started thinking like this, he reminded himself that Hermione had seen something in Ron Weasley. He might not think too highly about his own appeal to women, but Severus felt damned sure that he could beat Weasley.

He would have to get her a present, of course. One didn't invite a girl - woman - over for Christmas without getting her a present. But the choice of gift didn't offer much of a challenge. It would, given their current relationship, or lack of it, have to be something relatively impersonal. In addition, when he considered what Hermione liked, it would have to be a book. No lacy lingerie. Shame, that.

He reached his quarters, hastily taking down his wards to enter. He was determined to pursue that last picture of his Hermione wearing lacy black panties, garters and a bra trimmed in Gryffindor red. She would stand on all four in his bed, then turn her head and smile at him. "I'm all yours, Severus," she would whisper seductively. His rational brain recognised this for the tacky fantasy it was. His cock luckily didn't mind this fact.

---

Hermione jumped up from her seat next to Harry in the Great Hall. She had tried, and failed, not to let herself be affected by Ron's expression during breakfast. He was wearing what she had dubbed 'The Royal Sulk'. He did it well, too. His bottom lip stuck out ever so slightly, and his eyes were narrowed accusingly at her, as if she'd just declared that her favourite hobby was House-elf baiting. If she glanced his way for too long he would rub the side of his head, as if still in pain from the ruddy antlers. When Madam Pomfrey had assured her that the damnable things had been easy to remove, she had opened her mouth, twice, to inform Ron, that sulking prat, that he was more of a whiner than Draco Malfoy. It was even the truth. But the idea of the row that would follow had made her stay silent. She didn't have time for rows today, when she had been informed curtly by Professor Snape to be at his office door at eight-thirty, sharp. Despite his ... friendliness, out of lack of a better word, he could at times, well, most of the time, be rather intimidating. She didn't want to start the holiday by angering him. While Ron sulking was horrible, she shuddered to think what three weeks with a less-than-pleased Snape would be like.

So she hugged Harry goodbye, wished Ginny a merry Christmas and turned her nose up resolutely at Ron's cold look before she left the Great Hall. Best not be late. Besides, it had been a rather frosty breakfast.

---

Severus stopped himself, for the second time, from pacing back and forth in his office. He was waiting for Miss - oh blast and damnation! - Hermione to enter so that they could leave by Floo to a desolate inn in Wales. He was too paranoid to connect his cottage to the network. Minerva had informed him that the war was over and that such foolishness was no longer needed, but Severus preferred cautious over dead and kept to his ways. You never knew when a lunatic might decide to stumble by and try to kill you, or when one's friends might decide to visit while one were shagging on the hearthrug, for that matter. He shuddered at the thought of that one time when he had found Lucius and Narcissa trying out a more daring technique on the table in the foyer.

It might have been said that he was nervous, but Severus would never admit this fact even to himself. He was simply eager to be far away from all the idiotic students, thank you very much. Not that this changed the fact that he was, once again, pacing restlessly while staring at the clock across from his desk.

"You're a grown man!" he told himself. He rarely spoke aloud, but he found it helpful on desperate occasions. It seemed to be one of the side effects of living alone for too long. "Stop trampling around like a spooked Hippogriff." This didn't help. It only made him wince as he remembered the blasted rumours about him and a certain part of said Hippogriff's anatomy. Blast, too. At least he hadn't, so far, caught Miss Granger staring speculatively at his crotch in class. He had, however, caught a third-year girl at it, just the day before. A third-year! She was too bloody young to be interested in things like that. At least she ought to have been!

"Dunderheads," he muttered, just to calm down a little.

"Professor?"

He looked up to see Hermione waiting somewhat uncertainly at the door.

"Enter,' he snapped, taken aback by her sudden appearance. Then, remembering that he was supposed to be nice to her, he added, "I hope you're ready to leave?" in what might have been described as a friendly tone, at least considered his persona.

"Thank you," she replied, chewing on her bottom lip in that annoying fashion she had. His Hermione certainly never had done anything half as silly. It made him want to snatch her up and snog - kiss, not snog, he didn't snog like a dratted hormonal Hufflepuff - her senseless.

"Er - Professor? Are you okay?"

"Most excellent," he assured her. "Nothing is better suited to lifting the spirits than three dunderhead-free weeks."

She chuckled softly. "Well, I guess I should thank you for the compliment. That means I'm not a dunderhead, then?"

He inclined his head. "It might," he allowed. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes, please! Three weeks without Ron sounds wonderful!"

Severus actually bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from grinning rather wolfishly. So Weasley was most definitely out of the picture, then. Excellent.

Nodding towards the bowl of Floo Powder sitting on his mantelpiece, he winced slightly at the ornate silver object that he only kept out in the open because he knew it would annoy the giver no end to see it used for something as commonplace as Floo Powder.

"Galbraith's Inn," he told her as she grabbed a handful to toss it into the fireplace, reciting his instruction carefully.

He watched her twirl away in a flash of green, briefly allowing himself to wonder if this Hermione would follow directions in bed, too. His Hermione most certainly hadn't. Stubborn witch. There might be good things to doing it all over again. If she only wanted him, that was. With a set expression he followed, determined to use all his considerable brainpower to make her fall for him.

When he arrived in the dusty, boarded-up, old inn, he found her peering curiously around the room. Only now did he really take in that she was still wearing her school robes, the woollen cloak drawn tight about her to keep out the icy wind blowing in through a broken window.

"I trust you brought warmer clothes," he said, his voice still carrying a hint of that old sneering tone. He could curse himself to pieces, but that tone was so ingrained in him, it would take a while to disappear. And he did try to avoid using it around her. It would no doubt lead her to think he was disdainful, maybe even mocking. But Severus was honestly worried at the idea of her getting cold on the semi-long hike through the snow to his cottage.

"Yes, of course. You did warn me that it was in the mountains and that there would be quite a bit of snow. But I thought we were Apparating there?"

"I'm a spy, Miss Granger. You'd hardly expect my home to be easily reachable, would you? There's a anti-apparition barrier stretching about a mile from my cottage." He smirked, reminding himself to be friendlier. Damned his acerbic persona.

---

Hermione shivered in the icy draught coming in through the window. She hastily slipped out of her school robes, happy to have on sturdy Muggle woollens under. Then she pulled her duffel coat and thick sheepskin boots out of her little bag, shrugging into them. It would all be a lot more convenient if she could transfigure her school robes into something warmer, but on the other side ... the idea of what could be the consequences if students could transfigure their robes - not to mention the robes of others - into something else wasn't appealing. She remembered that story in Hogwarts, A History about the two fighting Slytherins in the eighteenth century. One had ended up completely nude in the Great Hall; his clothes transfigured into sand, and he was the lucky one. The other had ended up in a Muggle dress from the period. They'd had to spell him out of the corset. So maybe changing clothes wasn't such a bother.

"Better."

She looked up to see Snape smirking at her. He looked like he approved, odd as that was for him. Besides, he no longer wore the billowing black robes she'd never seen him without. Now he had on a thick Muggle parka, looking very out of fashion, but also very ... normal. Nearly relaxed. Well, at least not very tense. This was still Snape.

"Should we be on our way, then?"

Snape held out his hand, and for a moment Hermione just stared at it, completely baffled. Then she snapped out of it. They were Apparating together; she had merely assumed that he would grab her arm or something. So she put her hand in his, surprised again to find his fingers warm against hers. He had what her mother called the hands of a pianist: long supple fingers with only a few rough patches.

"Hold on tight." He tucked her arm over his, linking fingers with her. Then he turned on the spot, taking her along for an Apparition so seamless, so perfect, she had to smile. They appeared again standing in a wooden area, so quietly the little bird chirruping on a branch nearby kept on singing, undisturbed. Powerful wizard indeed. She could already guess that these weeks may reveal many secrets about the man behind Professor Snape.

"We're going up that hill," he told her, letting go of her hand to point up a narrow track winding through the trees.

Hermione looked around, appreciating the beauty of it. Yes, it was remote and hidden away, but what else could be expected of this man? He had made two appearances between his release from the Hospital Wing and the start of term: his visit to her at Grimmauld Place and a brief stop at the Ministry Ceremony, where he'd looked like he very much wanted to Crucio the Minister for giving him the Order of Merlin, First Class.

She looked up the path again only to see him trudge on, already quite a bit ahead of her. Hurrying to catch up, she was astonished again when he turned to her, waiting for her to catch up without so much as a sneer or disparaging comment.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. It's so beautiful here, I lost myself a little."

He inclined his head. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Well, there was a surprise. Snape could be civil? He seemed so ... human.

"Miss Granger ... we are no longer at Hogwarts. We'll be working closely and living closely for weeks. It would be far more practical for you to use my given name."

"Er -" She swallowed, trying to find her bearing around this new Snape. They had been friendly over the last term, of course, but he'd never stepped out of his role as her teacher. "-Of course, Severus."

"Good."

"If you call me Hermione," she blurted, wanting to be rid of the infernal 'Miss Granger'. It made her feel ... like a little girl.

"Gladly, Hermione."

With that they entered a clearing in the woods, looking down a slight slope to what must surely be the cosiest little cottage Hermione had ever seen.