Chapter 11

A/N: The Latin in this chapter came from an online translation site, so please forgive me if it's wrong.

As always, I'm borrowing these characters from JKR.

Chapter 11

At breakfast the next morning, Severus sat in the usual spot and waited for Hermione. He hoped she wasn't still mad at him. He didn't really know what he would do if she came in and sat somewhere else. He was tempted to cast the same kind of spell she had used for those first few days, but he was afraid she would get mad at him all over again.

Then it occurred to him – she almost certainly would not get mad, since she knew he had found it funny. She would realize immediately that he was teasing her a little, so she would probably find it funny, too.

Thus, he went ahead and cast a non-verbal spell, making it so she wouldn't notice any empty chair except the one she usually sat in. Then he calmly sipped some pumpkin juice and waited for her to make her appearance.

Eventually, she appeared in the doorway and glanced around. She started walking toward him, then stopped suddenly, eyes narrowing, as she did a double-take and looked around the room more closely. Her eyes flew back to his, and he kept his expression neutral as she approached.

"Severus?" she asked.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said blandly.

"Severus, did you cast a spell this morning?" She sounded so confused that it was all he could do not to laugh.

"A spell?" he asked, trying to sound perplexed. "What kind of spell? Why would I cast a spell? Although," he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "I am a wizard, so I do cast spells occasionally."

"Severus," she asked sternly, "did you or did you not cast a spell so that I would come sit with you?"

"You were going to come sit with me anyway, weren't you?" he asked, as though that had been perfectly obvious. At her look, he added helpfully, "If I did cast such a spell – and mind you, I'm not saying I did – but if I did, it would have been to ensure you didn't have trouble finding your seat."

Suddenly realizing that she was being teased, she burst out laughing. He resisted the urge to laugh with her, but he couldn't prevent the corner of his mouth from twitching upward. She sat down next to him and playfully punched him. "You're something else, Severus, you really are. Just when I think I've got you all figured out, you do something totally unexpected like this." She patted his shoulder and rubbed her hand up and down his arm briefly, then added brightly, "Thank you! A good laugh is a delightful way to start the day."

Her meal appeared and she started eating her bacon, seemingly unaware that he felt completely frozen in place. His arm and shoulder burned where she had touched him; the heat had shot a path straight to his groin, where he was thankful for the concealment of his heavy robes and the table. He would have to eat slowly, he decided, or his condition when he got up to leave would be very embarrassing.

So, he started a conversation. "Are you coming by this afternoon?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied easily. "I've finished everything Minerva left me to work on, so until she's healthy again, I'm at loose ends."

"Oh, then perhaps you'd like to spend the whole day in the lab. There are several potions I'd like you to try, so that I can be sure the explanations in the text are clear enough."

"Okay, sure," she said, flashing him a quick smile before taking a sip of her tea. "That sounds great!" And she sounded like she really meant it.

If he didn't know better, he would think she might actually like him, just a little. She had already said that she respected him, which was all he usually expected from people, and that she trusted him, which was far more than he expected of anyone. Perhaps it was greedy to hope that she liked him, too. But the lifting of his mood at her cheerful acceptance of his invitation suggested that he really, really wanted that, too.

He realized suddenly that he was in way over his head with this particular young witch. First, he had wanted her. Then, he had respected her. Lately, he had even found himself trusting her.

Now, suddenly, he was realizing that he liked her, too.

What was she doing to him?

Somehow, he kept up his end of the conversation, although he later realized he didn't remember any of it. He also was careful not to let his sudden anxieties lead him to pick another fight with her, although he felt several caustic remarks try to push their way through.

On the positive side, his anxiety had, for the moment, overpowered his arousal, so when she was finished eating, he was able to walk out of the dining hall without incident.

Dumbledore knocked at the door to Minerva's quarters a short while later. He was more determined than ever to figure out exactly what was going on between Hermione and Severus. The pair had been in their own little world at breakfast. It even looked like Severus was teasing Hermione with his little chair spell, but that was impossible. Wasn't it?

No, no, he must have misread that situation. Hermione had laughed with delight, but Severus had just watched her neutrally.

Minerva called out for him to enter, so he went in to find her sitting in an armchair, sipping some tea.

"You look much better, Minerva," he said approvingly.

"Yes, my symptoms are nearly gone. I expect I'll be back to normal tomorrow."

"Good," Dumbledore said. In hopes of catching her off-guard, he asked, "Is Hermione Granger in love with Severus?"

She looked at him sharply, but didn't answer immediately, as he had hoped she would. Eventually, she asked, "What makes you ask such a novel question, Albus?"

"I just wondered," he said. He should have asked her yesterday, he thought, while she was still weak.

"Why did you wonder?" she asked, pinning him with her eyes.

Shifting in his chair, he considered his answer briefly before admitting, "Because I think he's in love with her, and I'm trying to decide what to do about it."

"No!" Minerva said emphatically. "You are not to do anything, Albus. Do not interfere in any way."

"Well, I wasn't thinking of interfering," he said defensively. "I just thought, if the feelings were mutual, perhaps I could help them out a bit."

"Oh, no, no, no, Albus, that's a terrible idea!" She sounded more horrified than the idea warranted, in Albus's considered opinion, and when he didn't immediately agree with her, she continued scolding him. "Love cannot be manipulated by magic – you know that. Just stay out of it."

"But all I was going to do was place a Magnet Charm – and a weak one at that!"

But she stood firm. "No, Albus, I'm begging you, don't do it! Let them work it out for themselves – or not. Stay out of it."

"But a Magnet Charm doesn't really try to manipulate love, Minerva – it just draws them together. And then they spend time together, and nature takes its course!" He smiled, delighted with his own reasoning.

"Albus, stop and think for a minute. Where are they right now?"

"In his lab, probably."

"Both of them?"

"Well, they left breakfast together, so I assume so."

"And where were they earlier this morning?"

"At breakfast."

"At breakfast together, correct?"

"Well ... yes." Reluctantly, he was beginning to see her point.

"And how about last evening?"

"They had dinner together, until they had a spat."

"And then what happened?"

"Well, when she left the Great Hall, he followed her; he apologized and walked her home." Fortunately, Minerva didn't delve too deeply into how Albus knew that last bit.

"What about yesterday afternoon, other than the time when he was here?"

"They were in his lab, working on his textbook potions."

"Just as they were the day before that, too. Albus, don't you see? They're already drawn together, without any work on your part. They're spending practically every minute they can find with each other. If you mess with it, it's just as likely to steer them off-course as to speed them on-course."

Dumbledore almost pouted with disappointment. He hated to admit it, but, "You're right, Minerva. I should just stay out of it."

"Promise me, Albus. Give me your solemn word that you will not assist, interfere, or otherwise involve yourself in any way."

"All right, all right, I'll stay out of it," he conceded. "For now, at least. But if they go too far off-course, I reserve the right to help them."

"All right," she said, "But only after you've discussed it with me. Maybe you should take a wand oath," she added thoughtfully.

He was a little insulted. "I've already promised," he said balefully. "I value your opinion, Minerva, you know I do. I don't know why you would need a wand oath."

She considered him for a long moment. "All right, Albus, I'll accept your word. But I must emphasize how important it is that you trust me on this – where matters of the heart are involved, you do not want to get involved. More often than not, it leads to disaster, and you'll find yourself getting caught in the crossfire."

"I know you're right," he said, mildly irritated at her persistence when he had already promised not to involve himself. "Which is why I've agreed to take no action at all to assist them without consulting you."

"Good," she said. "See that you keep your word, Albus."

Of course, there was involvement, and then there was involvement, Albus mused as he took his leave a short time later. As long as he was subtle, no one need ever know.

Hermione and Severus spent a delightful day together – really, they weren't out of one another's sight for more than a minute or two, she thought, as she got ready for bed that night. From her perspective, the day was near-perfect. Oh, Severus had gotten moody a few times, but never for long, and he had seemed to go out of his way not to provoke her, even when she could see he wanted to.

As she lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take her, she finally acknowledged to herself that her plan wasn't working at all. Familiarity was not breeding contempt. Instead, the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to be with him. The more she wanted him, full stop.

She knew she couldn't have him, of course. He simply didn't see her that way. Oh, he found her intelligent, she was sure. Otherwise, he would never let her near his manuscript. And he found her company tolerable these days – at least, he never seemed eager to push her out the door or anything, and he had even teased her with the chair thing this morning. So, she thought, a real friendship might not be too much to hope for.

She would just have to keep her libido under control somehow, so he didn't get disgusted and decide to have nothing more to do with her.

As she pondered that, an owl appeared at her window carrying a parchment envelope. Taking it, discovered to her delight that Harry had written her a brief letter. Since she wasn't really tired yet, anyway, she lit her wand to read it.

Dear Hermione –

Best, Harry

She lowered the letter to her lap, staring at it in dismay. Just days ago, she had wished for a visit with her friend, and she was, of course, happy at the prospect of seeing him. But things were going so well right now with Severus ... they were developing a real friendship. Or at least, she hoped they were.

As much as she loved Harry, she knew his arrival could only damage that. If she wasn't careful, all the trust and respect Severus had started to show her would disappear.

If only Harry didn't hate Severus quite so much. And vice versa, she thought glumly. If only they could each see the other the way she saw them.

Sighing, she wondered if there was a charm or a potion for that. Somehow, she doubted it. Too bad she couldn't ask Severus – he would surely know.

And then it occurred to her – she could ask Severus, if she were careful about how she did it.

Leaving the how for tomorrow, she composed a note back to Harry, asking him to postpone his visit to the weekend after next, using Minerva's illness as an excuse for why she might still be catching up on work next weekend.

She told herself it wasn't really a lie – she didn't know, as yet, what else Minerva might have planned for them in the next few weeks.

She fell asleep trying to figure out how to ask Severus about the spell or potion she needed.

Meanwhile, in his own quarters, Severus was also thinking about their day as he readied himself for sleep. He absently performed his evening ritual. As usual, the last thing he did before getting in bed was to take his Dreamless Sleep Draught.

Unfortunately, not until he reached for the bottle did he remember that he had planned to spend the morning making more of it – a plan that he had completely forgotten when Hermione had agreed to come and work with him on his textbook potions.

Did he want it enough to go back to his lab and make it now? He was torn. It was very late, so by the time he finished making it, he would get little sleep anyway. On the other hand, if he did make it now, what little sleep he managed to squeeze in would at least be undisturbed.

Then it occurred to him that Hermione probably hadn't used all of the bottle he had given her, so he could just summon hers. She was probably long asleep by now, so she wouldn't even notice. He could probably even get it back there right away, and she would never know it had been gone.

Mind made up, he quickly summoned the bottle from Hermione's room, relieved when it arrived without mishap. He immediately took a dose, capped it, and sent it back with a wave of his wand and a simple, "Reverto."

He went to bed pleased with himself for his ingenuity.

Hermione woke from another very explicit dream about Severus, tingling all over and wide awake due to the lingering sensations of him licking her everywhere. As she lay there, once again willing her body to calm down, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look, she saw her Dreamless Sleep Draught levitate off the counter and fly through her bedroom and out the window.

How very odd, she thought. Who on earth would summon my Dreamless Sleep Draught at this hour? And why?

Thinking about that was as good a distraction as any, she supposed, although she immediately realized that the why was obvious. Someone had probably woken from a bad dream and wanted to take some of the potion before going back to sleep. Whoever it was must not have any of his or her own.

But who would steal it? One would think it would have to be someone who knew she had it, since if they didn't, they likely would have sought to take it from the hospital wing. After all, Madam Pomfrey was sure to have some on hand. But the only person who really knew Hermione had it was Severus – and wouldn't he have some of his own on hand? Why would he need hers? Why, for that matter, would he need any? What was he trying not to dream about, anyway?

She wished she could believe he was trying to suppress explicit dreams about her, but she knew that was wishful thinking. He just didn't see her that way at all. He probably had nightmares about the war or something, she thought glumly.

Finally, she gave up on the question. No matter, she thought. She hadn't been using it anyway, so she hoped whoever had it found it helpful. She started to turn over to go to sleep, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw another movement. To her surprise, the bottle flew back in the window and placed itself carefully back on the counter, right where it had been before.

So, apparently someone had been borrowing it, rather than stealing it. Her last thought before she fell back to sleep was, how very strange ...