Chapter Six: Reality Bites

Chapter Six: Reality Bites

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, they're not mine.

"Stop! Someone's coming! They'll see!" Hermione pushed him away from her, pulling her robes on. Reaching for his hand, she pulled him around the corner and into a darkened classroom. He reached for her immediately as his mouth sought hers. Skin heated and robes parted once more, allowing deft fingers to tease and excite, pushing her headlong towards the brink...

Sidney rolled over in bed, propping himself up on one elbow as he slowly drew down the sheet to expose her naked and flushed body. Trailing his fingers down the curve of her breasts, stopping to circle the tight peaks he found there, then continuing down, his black eyes never left hers. Closer and closer his hand drew as she lifted her hips to encourage and hasten. Closer, closer, but never quite reaching, she burned and cried out as Snape loomed over her and snarled, "Thirty points from Gryffindor for inappropriate facial colouring, Miss Granger!"

"DAMMIT!" Hermione sat up in bed, wrestling with the sweat-soaked sheets as her heart pounded and her body ached for completion. Dragging down the flimsy cotton nightshirt bunched up above her hips, she crossed the room to the open window. The cool touch of night soothed the fever of frustration from her blood as she pressed her forehead against the glass and sighed.

***

"So, Hermione, where were you all summer?" Ron asked through a mouthful of chocolate frog as the Hogwarts Express chuffed its way north.

"Working."

"Doing what?"

"Just a job I picked up in the Muggle paper." She lifted her book, hoping the boys would get the hint.

"What sort of job?" It was Harry's turn. "Come on, 'Mione, we told you all our news."

"Helping an artist. I told you before."

"What, did you clean up his paints, run errands, that sort of thing?"

"Something like that."

"I don't know why you're being so secretive about it." Ron had perfected the art of whining. Nothing was worse than a redheaded, freckled, six-foot whiner.

She put down her book and let out a huff of annoyance. "If you must know, I spent all summer getting naked in front of a hot, older man. Happy?" She stared at the pair opposite.

Both young men's eyes widened and jaws dropped. Then they turned to each other and burst into laughter. Tears flowed as they slapped each other's backs and rolled in their seats.

"Good one, 'Mione. You almost had us there!"

"Yeah." Harry held out the sweet bag to Ron. "Never mind, mate. If she doesn't want to tell us, we'll just have to make it up. I think she spent all holiday reading the textbooks for this year and has done half the assignments already."

"That was just the first month. Then she drew up colour-coded charts for all of us to plan our homework by. I can just see it..."

Hermione stood and picked up her bag. "I can see you idiots need some time alone. I'll be in the next empty carriage, reading in peace!" Leaving the two boys grinning at each other's increasingly preposterous ideas for 'How Hermione spent her summer,' she wandered down the train to find a quiet corner.

Thank Merlin my bluff worked. I thought for a minute they'd believed me. Still, might have been nice if they had. They could at least have entertained the possibility that I might be interested in the opposite sex. Although, I suppose all the invitations to dinner and dances I've turned down might have lead them to believe the opposite. Hermione Granger: bookworm, swot, and homework organiser – that's me.

Of course he'll notice. It's completely different behaviour from usual. He may well be blind from using the facilities by now, but he's not stupid.

And Neville will suddenly become a Potions genius. It's hopeless. If I stay quiet, he'll notice something's wrong, and if I don't...

Suddenly, Hermione's worried frown eased into a triumphant smirk.

I'll just have to be as Gryffindor as possible. Harry always said Snape could never see past the Gryffindor robes. Must remember not to wear Muggle clothes around too much at weekends. That could be a huge mistake. And stick with Harry and Ron. With those two around to annoy him, he won't pay any attention to me.

Pity, I'd quite like him to pay attention to me. Preferably one on one.

Plan decided, Hermione returned to her book. It wouldn't do to get too far behind in her study plan, after all.

***

"Severus! Welcome back. I trust you have spent the last few months resting and recovering." Minerva McGonagall had visited Snape in St Mungo's before he had left to find her profuse apologies for misjudging him brushed aside as unnecessary. Expiation for her sins unforthcoming, the new headmistress afforded her colleague and erstwhile student as much care and concern as he would allow, excusing him from involvement with the castle's repairs after the final battle and insisting Poppy Pomfrey obtained her supplies from St Mungos's. Snape had only to ensure he had adequate ingredients and equipment for the forthcoming year's classes which, Peeves's interference aside, had been dealt with earlier in the summer.

Snape barely looked up from his meal. He had arrived late, slinking into his seat as the new first years were Sorted. He nodded to the woman beside him, spearing another potato with his fork. His gaze slid around the Great Hall, examining the faces at the student tables: some fresh and excited, many wary and unsure after a year of his own tenure as headmaster, and others, more than he had imagined, with fractured lives and battle memories haunting their eyes. His Slytherins, diminished in numbers, each absent face a testament to his failure. Draco Malfoy was a surprise; his mother had been released from custody, and the boy himself forgiven publicly by Potter himself. Lucius had not escaped a twenty-year sentence in Azkaban, but without Dementors and a more humane warden, the prison merely curtailed his freedom and excesses of vanity. Snape had assumed the Malfoy scion would take over his father's business interests in his absence. He made a mental note to talk to the young man later.

The Misses Parkinson, Greengrass, and Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini were the only four other returning seventh years, and a full half of the new seventh years were missing. Snape's lips thinned as he turned his attention to the other tables. Hufflepuff house had distinguished itself by its naïve avoidance of politics, harbouring few junior Death Eaters or Dumbledore's army members. Its ranks were largely intact, but from the previous year only Hannah Abbott had returned for her N.E.W.T.s.

Ravenclaw's intellectuals almost spilled out of the benches allocated. No self-respecting Ravenclaw would leave Hogwarts without sitting their final exams, and many had returned for the opportunity to make up for an 'unfulfilling academic year.' He shook his head slightly at the serious faces above the blue and bronze ties.

The noise from the Gryffindor table next drew his unwilling eye. Amidst an untidy melee of red and gold, he identified some of his least favourite students. Much back-slapping and hand-shaking was contributing to the racket from their side of the room, and in amongst it all were Potter (of course), Weasley, and Granger. No, not Granger, she's sitting off to one side reading. How predictable. It's Longbottom the Snake-Slayer who's enjoying the attention. Potter and Weasley are lapping it up, as expected. Nothing ever changes.

His food turning to sawdust in his mouth, Snape laid down his knife and fork. Muttering an excuse about work to be done, he slipped out of the Hall as silently as he had entered, not noticing a set of brown eyes studying him as he left.

***

He looks the same, but different. Resigned. Depressed. So different from Sidney. Even when he was making that bloody noble speech about our 'best interests' he was at least showing some emotion. Now he's bottled it all up behind the Snape façade: cold, unfeeling, disdainful of all who surround him. But that's not who he is. He's a man, with ideas and talents and feelings and desires. It's so unfair.

Hermione pushed the cooling food around her plate with little interest. Merriment surrounded her; the welcome familiarity of the start-of-term banquet a balm to the battered spirits of those in the Great Hall. It was a fresh, new start. Now the open wound of their losses had stopped bleeding and healing had started, it was a chance to be young and carefree for a short time with no threat of evil or burden of prophecy to torment their dreams. She could see it in Harry's grin, hear it in Ron's awful jokes, and feel it in the very walls around her. No one would forget, but they would learn to live and laugh again.

She was more concerned with facing the man who had painted her most intimate places. The man who had reacted with such passion and had demonstrated such control. The man who would be teaching her in... She glanced at the timetable she had just been passed.

Double Potions tomorrow morning. I'm not ready for this. What if he realises...?

Dropping her head into her hands, she muttered, "Fuck!"

"Hermione! Did you just say what I thought you did?" Ron had even stopped eating.

"Yes, Ronald. What of it?"

"But you don't. Well, hardly ever. And never at the sight of your timetable."

"But look at what we have first thing tomorrow, Ron. It's no wonder she's swearing." Harry thrust the parchment in front of his friend.

"Bloody hell!"

"I know. You'd think they could have eased us into it, wouldn't you? But, no, Potions on Monday mornings. With Snape. It's going to be a nightmare. Why couldn't he have taught Defence again?" Harry studied the back of Hermione's head and suddenly frowned. "But, 'Mione, you like Potions."

"I don't want to talk about it." Muffled though it was, the message was clear enough.

"All right, all right. Keep your hair on." Shaking their heads at the vagaries of women, the boys resumed the important discussion on their plans for the next few weeks, none of which involved academic pursuits.

***

You can do this. You have to do this. Just keep your head down, and whatever you do, don't look him in the eye. Keep it together; here he comes.

Hermione shuffled her books and ingredients once more, delaying the inevitable as long as possible. Harry's warning nudge went unnoticed as she repositioned her knife for the twentieth time.

Cardamom, patchouli, and a very subtle hint of turpentine flared her nostrils almost before she felt his presence in front of her desk.

"When you're ready, Miss Granger, perhaps we can start this lesson?"

Don't look him in the eye. Don't look him in the eye. Hermione kept her gaze lowered to find herself staring between the parted edges of his robes to the very area she wanted least to associate with Potions and professors. Oh, gods, don't look there either! Settling for his chest, she attempted a weak smile. "Sorry, sir. I was just checking I had everything."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for lack of organisation. You're back in the classroom now, Miss Granger. I suggest you remember that." He turned on his heel and strode to the front of the room. Surveying the faces before him, he stood before his desk as the silence reigned again.

"Well, what have we here? Four Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff, three Slytherins, and four Gryffindors. I suppose I should be grateful the headmistress didn't combine you lot with the new seventh years. Longbottom!"

Neville nearly fell off his stool as Snape pointed one long finger at his desk. "Y-y-yes, sir?"

"Move over to the other side of the room. Miss Granger will not waste her time whispering to you this year."

Gathering up his possessions, Neville did as he was told. His face paled as he realised with whom he had been partnered. "Malfoy? You want me to work with..." Snape's glare silenced him. Draco's was little better.

Hermione watched as Snape tore apart all the comfortable partnerships in the room, moving Harry and Ron to work with Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst, Hannah Abbott with Michael Corner, and Daphne Greengrass with Anthony Goldstein. Without further instruction, she joined Blaise Zabini at his desk.

"You all should know by now I expect nothing less than your full attention in this classroom. This year you will be brewing complex potions, some of which can be dangerous." Glaring at Neville, Snape continued. "Some of you will fail unless you follow my instructions to the letter. Is that understood?"

Hermione chewed the end of her quill as she listened to the annual tirade. The details were insignificant; the general message was the same every year. Either he really is an evil-tempered, misanthropic loner and I have terrible taste or it's all an act he's so used to he doesn't know how else to teach. Which is it, Sidney? Where's the relaxed, talented artist? Where's the man whose passion nearly brought him to his knees? Why can't I bloody concentrate?

Forcing herself to focus on her ingredients and cauldron, Hermione diced and chopped and ground herself into the oblivion of brewing until she forgot both the Slytherin with whom she shared a workspace and his Head of house prowling the room. With a final stir, the liquid within her cauldron gave a resounding belch and turned deep green. Gregory's Unctuous Unction was ready to be bottled. Beside her, Blaise Zabini had rendered his potion with equal accuracy and had fetched two vials from the store cupboard. Handing one to his partner, Blaise did not waste words as he prepared his sample.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I was over there getting mine anyway."

She nodded, then stood back as Snape appeared at their desk.

"I see we have two passable attempts here. Do I have a volunteer to try Miss Granger's potion?" He looked around the room, finding eyes suddenly diverted and hands occupied. "Longbottom!"

Neville sighed. "I knew it," he whispered to no one in particular.

Draco Malfoy's satisfied smirk dissolved as Snape handed him a beaker with some of Hermione's Unction within. "Mr Malfoy, I'll let you do the honour. Give this to Mr Longbottom to test."

The younger Slytherin complied, handing the potion to Neville, confusion furrowing his usually smooth brow. "Here. Drink this."

Neville placed the empty beaker on the desk thirty seconds later and turned to Draco. "That was great! You should try some too, mate." He clapped Draco on the shoulder and grinned. "So, how did your summer go, Malfoy? You should tell me all about it over a drink or two next weekend."

"I think that qualifies as a success," Blaise said under his breath as he cleaned up his half of the workspace. "Any idea how long this stuff works?"

"Forty-eight hours. Neville's going to kill me."

"Only if Malfoy doesn't get to you first. I don't think I've ever seen him squirm like that." Blaise chuckled. "Even Snape looks amused."

Hermione turned her attention to the Potions master. He's right. Snape has that little quirk of the corner of his lip that lifts when he's about to laugh. I wonder how many times that's happened before, and no one has noticed. I'd never have recognised it if I hadn't spent so much time with him as Sidney.

Snape turned on his heel. "You have seven minutes to bottle a sample of your work and leave it on my desk for grading. Anyone remaining in this classroom after that time will lose their house five points." He stalked over to his desk and sat, glaring at the flustered students. "Move!"

There we go, back to the old Snape we know and love.

Unthinkable.

***

A/N: This was written for the TPP Every Flavour Auction for shalimar1981. Many thanks to karelia, who beat up the extraneous commas for me. She's my hero!