Chapter Eleven: No Longer a Secret

Disclaimer: The characters and settings all belong to JKR. I promise I'll clean them up and wash out their mouths with soap and water before I return them.

Chapter Eleven: No Longer a Secret

Drifting down from the giddy heights of bliss, the analytical part of Snape's brain functioned no more effectively than that of any other post-orgasmic male.

"Uhmm... ahhh... mmmph." He stretched and sighed, residual currents of pleasure still coursing through his body, leaving his skin hypersensitive and limbs weak. The absence of a naked, delectable woman beside him finally permeated his endorphin-infused haze.

Where's she gone? Bathroom, I suppose. Gods, she was incredible. So enthusiastic, so tender, so... vocal.

Hearing my name, my name, on a woman's lips as she came... Merlin, it was...

"Fuck!"

A muffled crack from the next room answered his unspoken question. Miss Grace Henman was no more Muggle than he was.

"FUCK!"

Snape leaped off the bed and ran into the sitting room. Careless of his nudity, he glanced around the room. As expected, there was little trace of his erstwhile model. She'd managed to collect her dress, purse, and shoes and disappeared.

Bloody lying bitch! All along she knew and said nothing. She let me humiliate myself in front of her while all the time she was laughing behind my back. How could she do it? And tonight... everything she said and did.

No. No-one could fake that. Her passion, at least, was real. Her passion for me.

Snape paused in his restless circuit of the room, mouth curling into a smirk. Turning to the battered desk in the corner, he picked up the scrap of paper on which Grace had written her address so many weeks earlier.

Bloody hell. She had time for that?

The letters on the paper blinked and shimmered as they constantly changed shapes. The address was indecipherable.

I don't need that. I can remember. It was 36... no 46... or was it 48? Suffolk Lane. No, Sheffield Lane. Or Sheridan. Dammit, she's embedded some sort of Confundus Charm.

As if that should be a surprise. Grace, or whoever she is, isn't a fool.

"Fuck, bugger, shite!"

Think, Severus, think.

And why do I want to find her so desperately?

Snape cast a disconsolate glance down to his groin, where the sticky residue of his recent activity remained. "And you can keep quiet. It's your fault we're in this bloody mess."

Tossing the useless piece of paper onto the desk, Snape headed off for a much-needed shower, never noticing the single word scrawled on the back of Grace's note.

Sorry.

***

Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Stupid stupid stupid!

Hermione tossed her dress and shoes into the corner of her bedroom and flopped onto the bed. Having concealed her wand in the bottom of her purse, she had found the slip of paper she'd seen earlier and used a clever spell she had found in an old Charms book to disguise her address, then Apparated directly to her bedroom.

Oh, Merlin, I hope the confounding part of the charm works to stop him remembering the address. Shite! What if he wrote it down at Hogwarts? How can I find out and destroy it?

But how do I tell him now? From behind the strongest Shield Charm I know would be a good start. Will he even be prepared to listen?

"Severus." Gods, just saying his name out loud makes me tingle all over. "Severus Snape." I can't help it. I'm wet just thinking about him. The way he used his tongue... and his mouth... My professor had his tongue there! I licked him! That's so...

FUCK!

Hermione jumped up and rushed to her desk in the corner of the room. Flipping the calendar to the current month, she swore again and dug out a large Mediwizardry text she had acquired the year before from her old beaded bag.

Confundus Charm... Conjunctivitis Curse... Conceptus Charm... Here it is, Contraceptus Charm.

The Contraceptus Charm is one hundred percent effective at preventing pregnancy only if used before coitus takes place. If used after sexual contact, the Charm's efficacy will decay at the rate of ten percent per hour, thus rendering it less useful.

Shite. The first time was six hours ago, and I'm fertile right now. That's all I need.

Right, Hermione, don't panic. Muggles do this all the time. I just need to go to a chemist.

One quick shower later, Hermione settled onto her bed with her pen and notebook.

5. Seduce Severus before he has a chance to work out who I am.

"I'm going to die."

***

Snape towelled himself dry and returned to the bedroom to dress. Casting around for his clothes and wand, he remembered how, and why, he had discarded both in the sitting room. Groaning at the renewed interest in his nether regions, he sat on the edge of the bed and forced the memory of Grace on her knees before him into the deepest compartment in his mind.

Gods, the thought of her sweet mouth makes me hard again despite her deception. I need to concentrate. Who is she?

Muggle-born witches. Intelligent Muggle-born witches. Intelligent Muggle-born witches with divine curves, slender hands, hot, wet...

Snape dragged his hand off his penis and stalked through to the sitting room, gathering his clothes from the floor and dressing while muttering to himself.

"Fucking lust-crazed fool. Get a hold of yourself. Who the fuck is she?"

I need to get back to Hogwarts. She can't get into my quarters to interfere with my records there.

***

Morning after pill obtained from an early-opening chemist, Hermione joined her mother in the kitchen for a cup of tea.

"You're back." Jean handed Hermione a steaming cup.

"Yes. Shouldn't I be?"

"I thought you'd still be with Sidney. How was the exhibition?"

"Brilliant, but a bit embarrassing. I'm not sure whether I really want you and Dad to go and see me that naked, but his paintings are so beautiful."

"I'm not sure your father's ready to see them anyway. I think we'll just take your word for it, dear. So, how was Sidney, or should I say Severus? Did you tell him?"

Hermione sighed. "No... and yes. I meant to, but things got intense and..."

Jean drew the correct conclusion from her daughter's flushed cheeks. "You ended up in bed with him before you could tell him who you were, didn't you?"

"I really did intend to tell him, but he was... and I... and it just happened. It was amazing, really incredible. He was so different, but not an expert, you know, just a little unsure, as if he'd never really done it before. I can't believe he hasn't ever... maybe never with someone he cares about... cared about. Oh, Mum, what have I done?" She scrubbed her hands over suddenly tear-filled eyes.

Taking Hermione into her arms, Jean rubbed her back as she sobbed out her regrets. "What exactly happened, love?"

"It was fine last night. We went to sleep after the first time, but later we talked a little, and one thing led to another."

"Do you regret sleeping with him?"

"No, not that, never that. But, Mum, I called out his name at the end."

Jean chuckled. "Is that all? Lovers do that all the time. Why would that upset you so much?"

"His real name. I called out 'Severus'! Mum, you have to be careful. I've managed to delay him finding this address for the moment, but he may have it written down elsewhere. Please try and delay him if he turns up here. Tell him your name is Wilkins and you've never heard of Grace Henman. Just until I have a chance to talk to him."

"Hermione, darling, you can't hide from him forever. You'll have to tell him, and the sooner the better."

"I will. I promise. I need to find the right moment. Please, Mum."

At Jean's nod, Hermione added, "And whatever you do, don't make eye contact. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't stoop so low as to use Legilimency on you without permission, but don't risk it."

After a few more instructions and another tearful hug, Hermione popped her head into the study to farewell her father and Apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts.

Right. Compose yourself. You've just been to a family gathering. Everyone was happy and well, and you spent all day Saturday catching up with your cousins. Last night was a family dinner, and they're all heading home today.

You did not spend last night in bed with your Potions professor. You will not imagine his naked body or the smell or taste of him. And you especially won't obsess over the expression on his face as he came.

Fuck, have to stop thinking of him as that.

"Hi Ron, Harry! How was the match yesterday?" Hermione forced a smile into place as the two young men enveloped her in a hug.

"Bloody brilliant, 'Mione! You should have seen us!" Ron proceeded to give a blow by blow re-enactment of the match, using his hands to demonstrate the 'wicked' manoeuvres undertaken by the Gryffindor Keeper, namely himself. "And so we won by ninety points. Impressive, huh?"

"Excellent. How did the party afterwards go without me to keep the noise under control?"

"Professor McGonagall only had to warn us three times," Harry replied with a grin.

"And the fourth time?"

"She sent us all to our dorms, threatening detention to anyone who was still in the common room after five minutes."

"Idiots." Hermione laughed. "You're lucky you didn't lose all the house points you'd earned by winning the match."

Ron had the grace to blush. "Well... er..."

"What did you do, Ronald?"

"I... er... gotcaughtsnoggingLavenderorwasitParvatiinthebroomcupboard."

Harry translated. "McGonagall caught him with a girl in the broom cupboard. The prat lost us thirty points. I told him to use a Silencing Charm, but he just couldn't control himself long enough to use his brain."

Know the feeling. Still, at least they had a good time. They're less likely to ask awkward questions about my weekend.

"Anyway, we're on our way to see Hagrid for morning tea. Do you want to come?"

"No, I have a few things to catch up on. Give my love to Hagrid though. I'll see you two later."

Now, to find a willing house-elf.

***

Snape noticed the huddle of Gryffindors outside the main doors of the castle as he took the short-cut to the dungeons. A sneer at their raucous behaviour accompanied him down the narrow path. Looks like they won again, the way Weasley is gloating. Can't see what the Granger girl sees in him. Although he might be facing some competition from Zabini soon. He's been rather more forthcoming with her than usual in class.

He entered the castle through a rarely-used side door and made his way down several flights of stairs to his quarters. As he opened the door to his private entrance, Snape startled a house-elf straightening some papers on his desk.

"What are you doing, elf? You know my desk is to be left undisturbed!"

"Begging your pardon, master. This elf was just tidying this pile of parchment. It was looking untidy."

The smell of stale butterbeer wrinkled his nose as he waved his hand in dismissal. "Well, don't do it again. Now, leave!"

"Very well, master." With an odd smile and a pop, the elf disappeared, leaving Snape with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

He tossed his cloak over a chair, and poured himself a generous shot of Firewhisky. Ten in the morning and I'm already drinking. Bloody women. I must find that address.

Fuck.

Snape gave up looking for the address he'd used for his correspondence with Grace and began pulling out his old student marking books.

Where to begin? Let's start with the last five years of seventh years. Who have the best marks and are Muggle-born?

Sarah Turpin. She was a clever thing, slim and polite. The perfect Ravenclaw prefect. But she had short, broad fingers. Never matched her body shape. No idea why I remembered that.

After two hours, Snape had exhausted his lists of students without finding any witch he believed could be Grace. Hearing a loud growl from his stomach, he realised morning had already passed into afternoon. Leaving the sound of his door slamming in his wake, he headed off to find some much-needed sustenance.

***

Hermione's pretence at reading a book while she was eating lunch was thin at best. Even Harry noticed she had not turned a single page during the entire meal, but at that point his sudden flash of perspicacity abandoned him. Her frequent sidelong glances to the staff table went unnoticed by all but a dark-skinned wizard seated amongst the Slytherins on the opposite side of the Great Hall.

He looks to be in a foul mood. Not surprising really. He's not even tasting his food. I'll bet he's sitting up there trying to work out how to find me and what to do when he does. I'm not sure I'd like to be around to find out what he decides.

Snape glared around the hall, ignoring Pomona Sprout's attempt to share a choice piece of gossip she had just heard and Rolanda Hooch's latest dirty joke.

Mr Zabini seems obsessed with the Granger girl. He watches her constantly. I might have to have a word with him about his intentions. He's too taken with his own sophistication to realise he may have overreached himself with that witch.

Suddenly weary of the clatter of cutlery and intrusive hum of voices disrupting his train of thought, Snape pushed his chair back and stood. Leaving the Great Hall by the staff door, he took three steps towards the dungeons before pulling up short and turning about face. With a smirk, he walked up the corridor towards the staff records room.

The student register. Why didn't I think of it before? All I need to do is check the addresses of past Muggle-borns. I'm sure I'll remember Grace's parents' address once I see it.

Now, let me see. I'll start with students who were in first year in 1990 and work my way backwards.

Frustration curdled Snape's mood further as he searched fruitlessly for the next thirty minutes. No addresses were familiar, and no names stood out as possibilities for the witch whose body and intellect had enchanted his own.

Replacing the register on its shelf as the first sounds of movement in the corridor outside became evident, Snape retreated to his dungeon of discontent to brood in peace.

As he passed through his sitting room, Snape picked up the plain cloak which served as a Muggle garment when he was using his studio. He frowned as he noted something out of place caught on the sleeve. Carefully pulling it from the heavy wool, he moved into better light to examine his finding.

It was a single hair. Long, brown, and curly.

***

A/N: This was written for shalimar1981 for the TPP Every Flavour Auction. And karelia is the best. You all know that, don't you?

Thanks to my readers for all the wonderful reviews. They are really appreciated! xx