Chapter Fifteen: Patience Has Its Own Rewards

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JKR, but if she doesn't want them back after I've corrupted them, I'll be happy to take them off her hands.

Chapter Fifteen: Patience Has Its Own Rewards

Hermione's diligent habit of studying weeks ahead proved invaluable for the remainder of the day. Her apparent distraction in class was overlooked by her teachers as due to the pressure of work, and Minerva McGonagall was even heard to wax poetical in the staff room later in the day about the degree of detail in the brocade chair Miss Granger had conjured in Transfiguration. Hermione herself, however, was merely going through the motions of her day, the letter from Snape burning awareness in her pocket.

I can't believe he wrote that. In such detail. And the last line... from Severus Snape?

I'll have to reply, but I can't reveal myself to him yet. I can't afford to earn myself detention for the rest of the year until after Saturday.

***

Avoiding Ginny was easier than she had thought. With different timetables and Quidditch practice, Hermione managed to escape further questions from the younger girl, retreating to her room soon after dinner with the excuse of Arithmancy homework to complete.

Sucking on the end of her quill, Hermione gathered her courage, then began writing.

Severus

P.S. Check the portraits in your quarters.

Transfiguring the plain envelope into metallic silver, Hermione tucked the letter into her bag to await an early morning trip to the owlery. Thoughts turning back to her letter, she bathed and, ignoring her nightgown, slipped under her sheets naked.

***

Hermione smiled at her plate of bacon and eggs when the owl flew over Snape's head and dropped its cargo without stopping. She watched from the corner of her eye as he opened the silver envelope and perused the missive within.

Snape managed to maintain an expression of bored disinterest as he read, but could not stop the blood pooling in his groin at Grace's words. Shifting in his seat to relieve the sudden tightness, he cursed his impatience in opening the letter at the breakfast table.

"All right there, Severus?" Rolanda Hooch asked. "Not bad news, I hope."

She shrugged and returned to her sausages when he remained silent.

Fucking nosy woman. Go back to your breakfast and let me read this in peace.

Portraits?

If Hermione's smile was a little wider than Ron's joke deserved, no-one noticed. If her step was somewhat light for someone carrying the number of books she did, no-one commented. Seeing Snape unable to conceal his happiness at her words did something indescribable to her heart. If felt enormous, as if it wanted to burst out of her chest and dance through the corridors announcing to all and sundry, "I'm in love with Severus Snape!"

Such was her state of bliss, Hermione was paying little attention as she rushed down the corridor towards her Charms lesson. When a wall of black suddenly stalled her progress mid-stride, she spent valuable seconds frowning at the row of buttons before her eyes and trying to remember their significance before her olfactory memory caught up and registered the familiar scent of cardamom and patchouli under her nose. Dragging her eyes upwards, Hermione found herself on the receiving end of an unusually tolerant smirk.

"I believe, Miss Granger, you have better things to be doing than counting my buttons."

Did he just make a joke?

Snape stepped sideways and continued towards the dungeons without so much as a point deducted.

Oh, fuck. I've done it now. He's in a good mood.

I'll go down in history as The Woman Who Desnarked the Snape. Slytherins will despair; Hufflepuffs will cry; Gryffindors will rejoice; and Ravenclaws probably won't even notice.

Ruminating on the end of life as she knew it, Hermione reached the Charms classroom and slipped into her seat just in time to catch Ron passing a note to Harry. She managed a suitably unimpressed expression and took out her quill, settling to work with an enigmatic smile and a soft sigh.

***

Snape walked the perimeter of his quarters, checking each painting for evidence of tampering. Preferring scenic works to portraits, he was rarely bothered by uninvited oil-based opinions or suggestions, having terrorised the first few unfortunate visitors who had wandered into his rooms when he had first moved in.

A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye as he turned towards the fireplace. His wand was in his hand before reason caught up, the Petrificus Totalis surprisingly effective against the familiar young woman caught in the process of sneaking into a rather pleasant woodland scene.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing in here?" He released the spell, but did not allow her the relief of an easy escape.

She quivered. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't, but..."

"But what?"

She shook her head, keeping her painted mouth firmly closed.

Snape's eyes widened as he made a few unwelcome connections in his mind. "Were you in here yesterday evening?"

Elizabeth remained mute, but the fierce scarlet of her cheeks betrayed her.

Oh, fuck. That's all I need. Portraits in every hallway gossiping about my masturbatory techniques. Minerva will have a seizure. She'd have a seizure just realising I have a cock, let alone that I'd use it in such a manner. Bloody sure she still thinks of me as a skinny first year most of the time. Could be quite satisfying to see her reaction.

And Merlin forbid any of the students find out.

"No-one is to know. Is that understood? I can find a wall in the deepest, darkest dungeon to hang your portrait, with wards to keep you there if necessary. Or turpentine."

"That's what she said." Elizabeth sulked in the corner of the frame.

His eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. "She? Who?"

"The Fat Lady. She said you'd turpentine us if anyone said anything."

"Just how many of 'us' are there, Elizabeth?"

"Only me and the Fat Lady and Violet and Damara. And of course there was Giffard and..."

Snape groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Tell me none of you have told anyone alive."

Elizabeth covered her ears. "You shouldn't use such language, Professor! It is most unseemly in front of a lady." Her lips curled into a coy smile. "Not half as unseemly as what you were doing last night, Severus."

"Stop batting your eyelids at me and answer the question, witch! Does anyone alive know?"

"Only..." she cringed, "... one."

"WHO?"

"That crazy girl with the awful hair who spends all her time in the library. She's the one who threatened us with turpentine."

Hermione bloody Granger. Fucking marvellous. I'm surprised the self-righteous twit hasn't been down here to lecture me on the error of my ways.

Should make tomorrow's Potions lesson somewhat interesting. Still, I don't want a repeat. I'll have to speak to her.

Reaching for his wand, Snape ordered Elizabeth back to her portrait in the corridor. A short incantation later and the paintings in his room had become impervious to infiltration by Elizabeth or any other portrait inhabitant.

As he left his quarters for his next teaching session, Snape rapped on Elizabeth's frame with his wand. "If I hear anyone... anyone... mention my personal activities again, you'll be in that room so fast your varnish will crack. And that applies to the Fat Lady and Violet and all the rest of your gossip-mongering friends." Without waiting for her reply, Snape stalked off down the corridor, leaving Elizabeth to sob tears of guilt, embarrassment, and not a little frustration into her lacy handkerchief.

***

Grace

***

Severus

Without you? Never.

G.

***

Grace

And whose fault is that?

S.

***

Hermione glanced around the dungeon corridor, hoping Snape was still happily eating breakfast as the owl flew off. Watching his smile as he read her brief reply over breakfast had been heart-warming until the moment when he had scribbled on the back of the parchment and set about re-attaching it to the owl's leg.

Bloody hell! If I'm still here when that owl leaves, I'm history. "Gotta go. Library." She had grabbed a piece of toast and scurried out of the Great Hall just as the owl had launched itself from the High Table. Not looking back, Hermione had headed towards the dungeons where the owl had finally caught up with an indignant squeak.

Pocketing the note, she leaned against the wall outside the Potions classroom, assuming an innocence she was far from feeling. By the time the rest of the class arrived, Hermione's heart had slowed to a more reasonable rate, only to quicken again as Snape billowed around the corner. A gentle squeeze on her shoulder was Blaise's only contribution as they filed into the room and prepared their equipment for the lesson.

"Discretion," Snape's eyes focussed everywhere but on Hermione, "is much to be desired in many circumstances. However, at times we need the truth. Veritaserum is a complex potion, taking several weeks to mature, but the Ministry in all their bureaucratic wisdom decree you shall be imbued with the knowledge to complete the process. Do not assume this implies any relaxation of the strict guidelines for its legal use.

"You will be brewing this potion over the next few weeks in your Thursday sessions. Your first task is to read the relevant chapter on Veritaserum today and attempt to assimilate the information. I expect two feet on the properties of the main ingredients of this potion on my desk before you all leave today. Begin!"

Retiring behind a pile of essays, Snape watched the class from behind his hair. Granger gave no indication she was privy to any disturbing information regarding her Potions master. Relief and suspicion fought a battle for dominance as he studied the young witch.

"He's staring at you, Granger."

"Hush. Don't draw attention to us. You're supposed to be reading, not giving a running commentary on Severus's actions."

"Severus now, is it?"

"Of course it bloody is. I'm not so kinky as to think of him as Professor Snape while he's... oh, never mind." Her cheeks flamed.

Blaise grinned. "Do tell. If nothing else, I can live vicariously through him, although it wounds me deeply to consider the place he holds so deep in your heart."

"Have you ever considered a career as an actor? I'm sure you'd win an Oscar."

"An Oscar? Why would I want a man? My name's not Malfoy."

"Idiot. Look it up some time. And stop pretending you don't care anymore; it just makes me feel even more guilty."

"My quest here is done then. I shall read in silence, doomed forever to the purgatory of your indifference."

"Zabini! Granger! The definition of reading does not include any mention of conversation. Keep it that way!"

Heads down, the pair complied for the remainder of the lesson. As their fellow students filed out, Snape looked up from his desk.

"Miss Granger, a moment... please." His expression revealed nothing.

Once Blaise had left the room, concern marring his handsome features as Hermione waved him away, the Potions master began pacing back and forth.

Hermione studied the stone floor as she waited, his every step heralding the death-knell of their relationship. Oh, bugger. This is it. He's finally worked it out. Merlin, I'm not ready for...

"It has come to my attention that you have... certain information about my... private activities." Even Snape couldn't prevent the flush rising in his cheeks. He turned suddenly and retreated behind his desk. "The portraits..."

What? Is that all he's worried about? That I'll tattle to all and sundry about his supposedly lewd behaviour. If only he knew he'd bragged about it to me himself only two days ago, then he'd have something to be concerned about. This I can handle. She awarded him a reassuring smile and her best bossy voice. "Don't worry, sir. It's perfectly natural. Men and women do it all the time. In fact, it could be considered abnormal if a single man didn't. Why, Alfred Kinsey reported as far back as the 1950s that it was..."

"Yes, yes, Miss Granger, I don't need a lecture on the subject. What I need is your discretion." Gently now, don't upset her. Let her think she's doing you a favour.

"Sir, that goes without saying. The portraits' gossip will go no further. Do you require a Wand Oath to that effect?"

"That will not be necessary. I will take your word as a Gryffindor." That'll work far better; enlist her sense of honour in her house.

Snape watched his student leave, a feeling of unease creeping down his spine despite her repeated affirmations of secrecy. Something's wrong here. Why wasn't she more embarrassed? Granger is hardly likely to be highly experienced, yet she took the knowledge of her professor masturbating without so much as a blush. She even quoted the bloody Kinsey Report at me. And why hasn't she broadcast it amongst her housemates?

Gryffindors and women. I'll never understand them.

***

"What the hell was that all about? Does he know?" Blaise accosted her as she rounded the corner just past the Potions classroom. He looked her up and down. "No, you're still in one piece."

"It was nothing to do with that, Blaise. Something else entirely." Hermione grinned and walked off.

"And you're not going to tell me, are you?" he called after her retreating back, shaking his head as she waved and blew him a kiss. "Tease!"

Relief bubbled up into giggles as Hermione headed to the Great Hall for dinner. Once again, she had escaped Snape's awareness. I really should be offended he hasn't recognised me yet. What is he, blind or suffering from a massive case of denial?

Passing a side corridor, Hermione stopped in her tracks as a cold yet familiar voice hissed from a darkened doorway.

"I want to speak to you, Hermione Granger. Alone."

***

A/N: This was written for shalimar1981 for the TPP Every Flavour Auction. Many thanks to karelia, who is the best beta in the world and quaffswinegaily, who puts up with me tossing ideas around at morning tea.

Sorry about the delay in this chapter, but I spent last weekend helping my nine-year-old practise for her school Masterchef competition. She cooked poached whole pears with vanilla egg custard and raspberry coulis and won the final!