Chapter Six

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thank you goes to my beta – Glorioux.

Chapter Six

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Hey there, my darlings, here we go again. Where were we? Oh, yes...

It was Friday night, exactly a week after our lovers' first passionate encounter. Severus Snape, who had just been struck by the unexpected, sickening and utterly ill-timed realization that he actually had been behaving like a git for the past few days, stood in front of his fireplace, waiting for Hermione to arrive.

By the seventh stroke of the old clock, a sour lump of apprehension was firmly lodged in our Potions master's throat. Believe me, my dear readers, I am not trying to diminish our beloved wizard's shortcomings; I would honestly never do that. Well, all right, maybe I do just a tiny bit. But I swear that it was this particular condition, namely, the hard lump in Severus' throat and the dreadful chill in the pit of his stomach, which was responsible for all that followed.

The instant Hermione Granger set her little foot onto the floor of Severus' lounge and a slightly colder "Welcome" than Severus had initially intended to utter left his lips, the destiny of the evening was set. The icily added "Miss Granger" only ratified the quick and dramatic conclusion of what was meant to be a pleasant dinner date.

Knowing that Hermione wasn't in the best mood to begin with, we can easily imagine how fierce and prominent her fiery response was. "Oh, is it really back to 'Miss Granger' again? How nauseatingly unsurprising, Severus." I simply refuse to recite in considerable details everything that transpired between our beloved Gryffindor Princess and her former professor next. Let's just say that their first official rendezvous did not go well.

It took only twenty-five minutes for the conversation to escalate to the boiling point. All the wrong and hurtful words were mentioned, including 'drunken mistake', 'one-night stand', 'lunatic', 'git', along with a few other equally offensive and unnecessary ones. The last straw was Severus saying, "I may assure you, Miss Granger, that you are highly delusional! I would even go so far as to state that the level of your cluelessness almost borders on imbecility!"

At this point, Hermione's gasp and the sudden appearance of a peculiar gleam in her brown eyes told Severus that he had perhaps gone too far. What the hell am I doing?

Bingo! Bravo Professor Snape – brilliant guess – most certainly too far.

"Yes, Severus, I was delusional, and I probably am a lunatic, thinking that you could care about me. However, it is now crystal clear to me that you are the biggest, vilest arse I ever met!" Hermione nearly turned away, her chocolate tresses curling furiously around her face; but paused and breathed out, "Oh, and an unfeeling, uncaring fuckwit as well!"

And that was the end of it. Our deeply wounded lioness huffed, turned on her heel and, in one striking swirl of chiffon, not hearing how her former professor regretfully moaned "Hermione," she disappeared in the miserably green flames of the Floo.

Severus' belated attempt to stop her proved futile, and he was thus left standing in front of his fireplace with the black cloud of soot flying all around him, and the image of Hermione in the crimson dress she was wearing swirling in his head. "Shit!" groaned our Potions master. This senseless battle was over, and two casualties retreated to nurse their wounds.

However, my friends, if you think that this night ended there for Severus, you are profoundly mistaken: it was only the beginning. For several minutes, Severus tried to calm himself down by running his fingers through his hair, by now covered with soot, and harshly rubbing his face. When that didn't help, our black-haired wizard went for the best calming remedy he knew – Firewhisky.

Alas, by the time our hapless lover was in his study, reaching for a glass and a bottle, an extremely loud and angry pop announced Casimir's arrival. Sensing the upcoming troubles, Severus hastily tried to grab the bottle with the Firewhisky. The elf, however, was much quicker. One snap of the creature's fingers and the bottle and the glass were in his hands.

Severus grunted with exasperation, walked to his desk, sat down and wearily said, "Casimir, stop being tiresome and give me the bottle."

The elf's stern facial expression did not forebode a quick capitulation. "Me thinks of Master. Me finds knickers. Me cooks the French dinner," creaked the elf, obviously extremely disappointed in his master. "And Master? Made Missy runs away. Why? No drinks! Master goes and brings Missy back to eat French dinner. Master goes now and brings Missy back." And the little elf stamped his little foot to emphasize his point. "No drinks without Missy back!"

This time Severus growled much louder as his annoyance began to engulf him entirely. "Casimir, stop that racket this instant. Give me the bottle and go away." Severus' livid, black eyes were throwing daggers at his servant. Naturally, the elf's lower lip began to tremble, and our wizard cursed under his breath.

The disgruntled elf uttered a loud sob and took two steps towards his master's desk. Next, he loudly and quite theatrically slammed the glass on the desk and poured the amber liquid in it.

"Here! Master can drink now. Master drinks alone, stays alone and dies alone." The elf narrowed his eyes and continued, "And Missy eats Wrinkly's bad cooking and lives with Mister Lucius. Mister Lucius wants Missy. Mister Lucius keeps Missy, and Missy gives him babies. Master drinks now. Drink, Master!"

After that dramatically delivered monologue, an already sobbing in full-blown hysterics Casimir disappeared with a heartwrenchingly sad pop.

"Mister Lucius... Missy...babies..." A menacing echo reverberated throughout the room. A second later Severus rose abruptly, growled something which sounded vaguely like, "Oh no, Lucius, not this time," and vanished from the room.

That's one witty little elf our Potions master has, don't you think? Not to mention, an excellent cook too.

'Tis a Lesson You Should Heed, Try, Try Again

If at First You Don't Succeed, Try, Try Again

Lucius Malfoy appeared at the back door of the Leaky Cauldron only seven and a half minutes after he had received their owl. It was a good thing that this particular Friday evening he was fully dressed and ready. His springy, predatory movements spelt out his intentions clearly – Lord Malfoy was on a hunt. Naturally...

Ah, you can imagine, my friends, the sort of thoughts that were swirling in Lucius' mind. Has Severus screwed up already? It has been... what? A week.

Not that Lucius was surprised, no, not at all. Sure, Severus' inability to keep a witch was very well known, but a week? This was extreme even for someone as infamous in this respect as the Potions master. Lucius was curious as to what exactly his so-called friend had done.

Of course, my darlings, it would be safe to say that the joy that little, skittish-looking owl had brought into Lucius' heart was nothing short of immeasurable. He had been miserable for the most part of the week, without even mentioning how significantly darker his mood had become after receiving Severus' poker night cancellation. Oh, what horrible scenes had dashed through the poor mind of our Lord Malfoy! Only imagine – Hermione and Severus dining, Hermione and Severus kissing, and so on.

Some of them were simply unbearable – she was almost his bride, for Merlin's sake! Lucius chose her – her fate was already predetermined in his crafty, Slytherin mind. The fact that the witch herself didn't have a clue about his plans did not trouble our blond in the slightest. The little lioness would surely come along. Why on earth would she not?

What about matters of blood purity, you ask, my darlings? Oh, come on. After the man had been declared an unfit husband and father, abandoned by his wife and his only son and heir, after his family's centuries' old dignities had become undone, there was no space for concern about bloodlines. The very survival of the Malfoys was at stake. Hermione Granger, as an angel and saviour, had fit the bill perfectly.

There weren't any doubts in Lucius' mind about his ability to impress the young Gryffindor. The only slight hiccup in his plan was her apparent obsession with Severus. Inexplicable, really. What did she see in him? No, decided Lucius. Nothing to think about – the young witch simply had a peculiar taste in wizards. Extremely peculiar, that was.

Dispelling all these thoughts, Lucius Malfoy opened the door of the Leaky Cauldron and entered. With a quick glance, the target was identified. There she was, by the bar, perched on a bar stool in a vivid crimson chiffon dress. Our blond approached quietly, watching the young witch carefully and wanting to test the waters first. Hermione didn't look drunk. A barely touched glass of Firewhisky stood in front of her. Evidently, the two helpings of Firewhisky reported in the note were a slight exaggeration. That was even better, though; Lucius didn't want the witch to be drunk.

Silently, Lucius inserted himself between the nearest bar stool and the girl. You understand, of course, that Lucius Malfoy would rather die than perch his aristocratic self on a high bar stool! In awe, he observed the picture before him; she looked delectable. The curls, the forms, the red chiffon clinging to her in all the right places were irresistible and utterly mouth watering. The only exception was the pinkish hue of the witch's eyes. Apparently, she had been crying before she arrived.

Severus, Severus, what had you done? Oh well, your loss is my gain.

"Miss Granger, what a nice surprise. Good evening, darling," murmured Lucius to Hermione's ear, tilting his head towards her slightly.

She jumped a little, startled by his proximity. Soon, however, she checked her initial reaction and replied, "Mister Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Her eyebrows arched in disbelief.

"I came here for a drink, like everybody else," replied Lucius as he shrugged his shoulders "Why, Miss Granger, aren't I allowed to have a drink?" he mockingly continued, allowing a light and mischievous smile to appear on his lips.

Hermione blushed, and a lovely rose colour covered her cheeks. "No, I mean, yes, of course you are allowed. Thank you for the beautiful flowers, by the way. Sorry for not sending a thank you card earlier." And with that, the most delicious, bashful smile graced the young witch's plump lips.

Lucius' body reacted immediately. Shit, it's been too long.

Lucius shifted and groaned inwardly. His trousers suddenly became just a little too tight. "No worries, darling, no worries. And you are indeed most welcome," he answered the girl with his own dazzling smile. Simultaneously, he gestured to a barman to bring him a drink.

Once the drink was in his possession, Lucius tilted his head to her once again and murmured seductively, "Have a drink with me, Miss Granger," his lips lightly brushing Hermione's ear.

The witch's breath hitched, and she shivered almost imperceptibly. "Sure," she breathed out. "What are we drinking to, Mister Malfoy?"

Lucius gave her question momentary consideration. "I propose that we drink to the beginning of our relationship." Noticing Hermione's quizzical arched brows, Lucius corrected, "To our acquaintance, so to speak. After this drink, you will call me Lucius and I, in turn, will call you Hermione. How about that, Miss Granger?"

The challenging smile on the blond wizard's lips and the teasing sparkles in his grey eyes reached their goal. No true Gryffindor could possibly ignore this challenge. Hermione giggled and said, "Very well, Lucius, to you then."

"Indeed, Hermione, indeed, and to you as well. Cheers." Of course, Lucius Malfoy simply couldn't stop there. He felt rather greedy and decided to push his luck even further. The moment they finished their drinks, he gently put his long, well-groomed, aristocratic hand on the witch's soft, rounded knee and whispered, "How about a little friendly kiss, Hermione, just to confirm our newly acquired friendship. Mm?"

Our Gryffindor princess froze in indecision, her amber eyes darting to Lucius' smiling lips. Slowly, very, very slowly, so he wouldn't frighten his prey, our blond shortened the distance between them. His grey eyes held her amber ones prisoners, not giving the witch an opportunity to break his control over the situation. Closer and closer, Lucius could already feel her sweet and slightly feverish breath caressing his skin. One more inch and...

Unexpectedly, a deep and extremely annoyed baritone broke the spell between them. "Miss Granger."

Hermione emitted an urgent sigh and turned towards the voice.

"Severus, what are you doing here?"

"May I have a word, Miss Granger?" muttered Severus. Our Potions master looked dishevelled, lost and extremely angry all at the same time. He glanced at Lucius for just a second and gave him a curt half nod.

Lucius' grey gaze became icy and menacing. Without any hesitation, Lord Malfoy decided to interfere, "Severus, as you probably..."

However, both Hermione and Severus raised their hands toward Lucius, gesturing to him to be quiet. Our blond hissed "shit," under his breath and then fell into silence.

"Why, Severus, I thought you had told me everything. What is there left to talk about?"

Severus ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture and after a moment of hesitation said, "Hermione, please, we need to talk," and with that he extended his hand to her. "Please, come with me."

The combination of 'Hermione', 'please' and the intensity of feelings in Severus' black eyes made it entirely impossible for our girl to reject him. With a long, deep sigh, she jumped off the stool, put her little hand in our Potions master's manly grasp, and together they left, leaving one blond wizard to seethe and simmer in a silent fury.

Please don't worry, my friends. Let me remind you that persuasion and persistence are among the Malfoys' strongest traits.