Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

Author's note: Thanks to peskipiksi for providing first-class beta and education services. Disclaimer: Any characters you recognise are JKR's, not mine. And I'm still making no money from this.

Chapter 5 – Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

Snape gripped his glass tightly and absently wondered just how angry Hermione would be if he hit Mrs Stacey Price with a Silencing Charm. He could do it wordlessly. It wouldn't be that obvious. He regretfully concluded that incurring Hermione's displeasure would probably result in an experience even worse than his current predicament. Which was saying something.

Since he'd been introduced to Mrs Price at the buffet lunch table, she had managed to monopolise his attention by the simple expedient of backing him into a corner and talking at him. He had been subjected to lengthy monologues on the subject of her education (an NVQ in Nail Technology, whatever that was, although he was fairly sure it had nothing to do with woodwork) and her business plans (her husband Archie was setting her up in her own beauty salon, apparently). At which point he had started fantasising about hexing her.

He suddenly became aware that she had interrupted her stream of inane babble to ask him a question. Fortunately, he was possessed of that uniquely male attribute whereby he could repeat the last line of a woman's conversation, even though he hadn't actually been listening, and was able to answer smoothly, "No, I haven't been married before. Jane's the first Mrs Singer. I hope she'll be the only one."

Stacey flicked her long blonde hair back over her shoulder. "Aww, that's sweet. Well, I'm the third Mrs Price, and I'm bloody sure I won't be the last. I reckon I've got about four years 'til he trades me in for a younger model. But until then, I'm going to get every penny I can from him." She shrugged. "It's a fair swap – he likes showing me off and bragging to his mates about what a firecracker I am in bed. You know what they say about men and carpets."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "No, but doubtless you'll enlighten me, Mrs Price."

"They're the same – lay 'em well, and you can walk all over 'em for years!" She let out a cackle of the same raucous laughter he and Hermione had heard from the terrace earlier.

She slapped Snape lightly on the arm. "Anyway, you've been very naughty, Dr Singer, keeping me all to yourself like this. I'd better go and talk to Archie or he'll be wondering where I am!" And, with a final swish of her hair, she was off, her pneumatic figure tottering slightly on her too-high heels.

Snape rather doubted Price was missing his lady wife, as he was currently deep in conversation with Hermione. A rather tactile conversation, he thought sourly, as he looked over at them. The oleaginous Archie seemed to find it necessary to emphasise every point he made with a touch to Hermione's arm or hand. Hermione had an expression of polite interest on her face, but her body language was screaming Touch me one more time, and I'll turn your testicles into tadpoles. Snape wondered how Price would react if he realised quite how much suppressed magical power he was toying with.

He considered going to Hermione's rescue, but then reasoned that she was perfectly capable of defending her own honour and would probably prefer him to continue to circulate. He took a sip of his mineral water and observed the rest of the company. Stacey had been diverted by Giles Pemberton on her way back to her husband and seemed to be giving the chinless wonder the same treatment Snape had received. That could be an unfair assessment of Pemberton, Snape admitted. He hadn't actually spoken to the man – he just looked the 'nice but dim' type.

So, that left Verity Pemberton, who was currently chatting to Helen on the far side of the saloon. Snape helped himself to some more sandwiches from the lunch table and approached the two women. Helen beamed at him.

"Steven, how lovely. Verity, this is Dr Steven Singer. Steven, this is Verity Pemberton, my oldest friend."

Snape and Verity shook hands. Verity was taller than Helen, with a trim figure and elegantly coiffed ash-blonde hair. She was immaculately dressed, but her smile was welcoming.

"I always wish there was a way of expressing the sentiment 'oldest friend' that makes it clear you're talking about the longevity of the relationship rather than the venerability of the friend," she said, laughing.

Helen chuckled and Snape inclined his head graciously, "In this case, Mrs Pemberton, there can be no question."

Verity laughed again. "Oh, I like this one, Helen. Something of an improvement on most of Yuri's associates, don't you think?"

Helen frowned slightly. "I wouldn't like to say. Um, I must go and see what's happened to the desserts.... " She scurried off across the room.

Verity watched her retreating back with a sigh. "Oh, dear. I always forget she won't listen to a word that might be construed as criticism of the sainted Yuri." She looked at Snape uncertainly. "Have I offended another member of the fan club as well?"

Snape shook his head. "I've never even met the man. My wife has had some business dealings with him. As it happens, he and I are in overlapping fields of work, so he suggested we should meet."

"And what exactly is his field of work, Dr Singer? Helen's only told me it's something to do with importing and exporting. Yuri did ask Giles to invest in the business, but I've managed to persuade him that's probably not the best idea until he knows what his money's actually being used for."

"I don't know the full extent of the business either, I'm afraid. I'm a research chemist, and I think Markov deals in some of the types of herbal medicines I develop. Am I correct in thinking you don't approve of your friend's choice of husband?"

Verity grimaced slightly. "It's difficult. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something not quite... right about Yuri. Obviously, Helen fell head over heels in love with him, and although it all happened very quickly, the marriage still seems happy. So, I should be... I am... very pleased for her. I've never seen him be anything other than loving and attentive towards her. And he's unfailingly polite and charming when we meet."

She paused then, frowning. "But I think you can judge a man by the company he keeps, and some of his business associates seem downright unpleasant. Archie Price included. And then there are his eyes."

"His eyes?" Snape asked, puzzled.

"When he smiles, or laughs, it never reaches his eyes. They look dead. Cold. Like a salmon on a slab." She shuddered slightly. Then she shook her head.

"I'm probably just being silly. You've got lovely eyes, Steven. They invite confidence."

Really? That was a first. Strange woman.

Verity's eyes left their contemplation of Snape's and scanned the room briefly. She made a slight moue of distaste.

"Damn. The Price woman has cornered Giles again. I'd better go and rescue him. Last time, he compared the experience to having his ears cleaned with a metal file."

Giles Pemberton rose slightly in Snape's estimation. He gave Verity a brief smile.

"I think I should probably release Jane from Mr Price's clutches as well."

"Literally, if she's not been careful. That man gropes like a tetanic octopus."

Snape lowered his voice conspiratorially. "To paraphrase Butler, it was very good of God to let Price and Mrs Price marry one another and so make only two people miserable instead of four."

Verity laughed and, with a nod of acknowledgement to Snape, set out to liberate her spouse.

*

Snape felt Hermione's already rigid body tense even further when he slipped his hand round her waist, then relax as she realised it was his arm embracing her rather than Archie Price's. She turned slightly to greet him, a welcoming smile on her lips and a Where have you been, you bastard? expression in her eyes. He didn't need his famed Legilimency skills to read that thought.

She briefly introduced the two men, who shook hands. Snape noted that Price had the slightly too-firm, slightly too-long handshake of a man who seeks to establish dominance from the outset. He was of a height with Snape, but rather more solidly built, with the appearance of a once-fit man who was starting to run to fat. He looked to be in his early fifties, with close-cropped iron-grey hair. His too-loud shirt and chunky gold bracelet indicated the lack of taste to be expected from a man who had married a woman like Stacey.

"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I need another drink." Hermione indicated with her empty glass.

"Would you like me to..." began Snape, only to be silenced by Hermione's vehemently shaken head.

"No, that's fine, darling," she said, smiling, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "Nice try," she murmured into his ear before walking as speedily as decorum allowed over to the opposite side of the room.

Snape turned back to Price to see him watching Hermione's retreating figure appreciatively. Price met his eye, unabashed, and gave a lascivious grin. "You've done well for yourself there. Bit posh for my taste but one hell of a looker."

Snape entertained himself briefly with the image of exactly what he was going to turn Price into once this weekend was over, then replied calmly, "Delighted you approve. I had the singular experience of your wife's company earlier."

"Yeah, she's a good girl, Stace. You're as young as the woman you feel, eh?"

Fortunately, Snape was spared the necessity of responding by Helen announcing the arrival of dessert and coffee.

*

Hermione checked her appearance one last time in the bathroom mirror. Her tight jeans had enough stretch that they'd be comfortable to ride in while the long t-shirt stopped her looking like a tart.

Lunch had gone smoothly, she thought. She'd been briefly concerned that Snape was going to jinx Stacey Price at one point, judging by the dangerous look in his eyes, but he had controlled himself admirably. He seemed to have been a huge hit with Mrs Pemberton as well.

Archie Price had been rather less than a hit with her. She had, however, gleaned a pleasing amount of information from him. His incessant bragging had left her with a list of countries he and Markov did business in and even his approximate annual income from their deals. Stupid man. But she'd smiled and been polite and not even slapped his hands away. Picturing casting an Incendio on his bollocks had helped.

She had managed a brief chat with the Pembertons too, but, unfortunately, hadn't been able to direct the conversation towards anything of relevance to her investigation. They both seemed pleasant enough, and she'd seen enough to establish that Verity definitely wore the trousers in that marriage.

It was odd, Hermione mused, how many people seemed happy in relationships where there was a huge power imbalance. She never ceased to be amazed by friends, both male and female, who gloated over how they had their other halves catering to their every whim. Just as strange were the men who seemed happy to be mothered and organised by their wives and the women who happily cooed about how manly their partners were and how they were treated like precious dolls. For her, a relationship had to be a partnership of equals or nothing. Given the choice between being showered with roses or having a bloody good intellectual discussion, she'd take the latter any time. Though, both would be nice. Which probably explained why she was single, she thought wryly.

Talking of husbands... She opened the bathroom door and returned to the bedroom, where she'd left Snape to change in private. Merciful Merlin! I'm glad I bought him those jeans. Snape was standing at the window with his back to her, hands in his pockets. And he has to know how that pulls the black denim taut against that perfectly shaped arse, she thought, admiring both the anatomy and the audacity. She'd been right to equate his backside with his wits earlier. Both were perfectly honed.

"Enjoying the view?" asked Snape, still with his back to her.

"Spectacular," responded Hermione, joining him at the window and leaning her elbows on the sill. She looked up at him slyly. "I love the way you can see the shadows of the clouds on the hills."

She took in his complete costume then, from the faded blue Imperial College T-shirt to the belt with the elaborate silver buckle (not something I bought – must be his own) to the aforementioned black jeans, artfully designed by Madame Malkin to look well worn. With his hair still tied back with a strip of leather, he looked, she thought, like the type of bad-boy university lecturer that would have his female students hanging on his every word and dreaming of hanging off parts of his body. Goodness knows the effect he'd have if he returned to Hogwarts looking like that. NEWT-level Potions would be oversubscribed, for a start.

"If you've quite finished admiring the scenery, I believe Helen and Verity will be waiting for us downstairs." Snape's voice was as sardonically smooth as ever, but his dark eyes burned with suppressed amusement. Hermione gave him a slightly embarrassed grin and took his proffered hand, entwining her fingers with his.

"Lead on, my love."

Snape bent down and murmured into her ear as they left the room. "That's a marginal improvement on 'darling'. Thank you, wife."

*

Snape and Hermione followed Verity and Helen down the path through the gardens towards the stable block. Archie had gone on ahead while Stacey and Giles had declined the invitation to ride. Stacey, apparently, wouldn't go near a horse, and Giles had some work to catch up on.

Hermione had her arm round Snape's waist, and his arm rested across her shoulders.

"Hang on a second," she said, pulling him to a halt. "I've just remembered something."

He looked down at her quizzically, although she was amused to see his expression give way to faint shock as she slid her had down from his waist to caress the firm curve of his arse.

Oh, yes, she thought. That feels just as good as it looks. Now what was I doing? Got distracted a moment. Ah... She muttered an incantation and suddenly felt a slight barrier against her hand.

Snape's expression cleared. "Cushioning Charm?" he asked. Hermione nodded with a slight smile.

"What happened to 'only use magic in case of catastrophe'?" he asked.

"Believe me," responded Hermione darkly, "not being able to catch Markov tomorrow because we can't walk qualifies as catastrophe. I remember the effects of a few hours in the saddle."

"I see your point. Was the hands-on approach really necessary, though?"

Hermione adopted a look of wide-eyed innocence. "Of course. Aiming a charm without a wand can be a little tricky."

"Well, in that case," responded Snape, "shall I do you?" He paused for a moment. "Which, in retrospect, I could have phrased somewhat more elegantly."

Hermione laughed as their eyes met. "Be my guest."

Not breaking eye contact, Snape moved his hand slowly and deliberately from its position on her shoulder. She felt the warm pressure of his fingers as they slowly descended her spine over the waistband of her jeans and down the seam. She desperately resisted the urge to shift her position as he spread his hand and gently stroked the round swell of her buttocks before whispering the incantation. The close contact was lost as the spell took effect, and she felt suddenly bereft. She was sure her eyes must have betrayed the impact his actions had on her, but his expression remained lightly amused. Bastard!

Cushioning Charms as foreplay? Flitwick hadn't thought to mention that one.

"Keep up, lovebirds!" Verity called from up ahead, and Hermione realised how far behind they had fallen. She and Snape restored their hands to more decorous positions and resumed their walk.

"You've got a couple of fans there," she said mischievously, nodding towards the older women.

"I don't know what you mean," Snape replied airily. "Although, Verity did tell me I've got lovely eyes. Deluded woman."

"You have got lovely eyes," protested Hermione. "As windows to your soul, they could do with a bit of polishing, but they're incredibly expressive when you allow them to be."

The eyes in question expressed scepticism, so Hermione just wound her arm more tightly around her colleague's waist and smiled to herself.

*

As Snape approached where Samson was tethered, he remembered one minor element that had been missing from his previous riding experience. A saddle. No, tell a lie, make that two elements. He'd never used a bridle either, just a rope halter. Bollocks. So much for impressing Hermione with his skill. Get a grip, man. Literally. He seized Samson's reins, hoping he looked like he knew what he was doing.

"Here, I'll hold him for you while you mount." Huw came across the yard, and Snape handed the reins to him with a grateful nod. He sneaked a look over to where Helen was mounting her bay hunter and copied her actions, heaving himself up into the saddle surprisingly easily. He copied her foot position in the stirrups as well and was pleased to find he felt even more secure than he had in all his bare-back riding as a child.

"OK there?" asked Huw. "Stirrups all right?"

Snape nodded. "Yes, I think I'll cope. Thank you."

Huw handed the reins up to him, and he took them, again covertly examining Helen to check he was holding them correctly. He rested one hand gently on Samson's neck and made feather-light contact with the horse's mind. Samson's ears flicked back in interest, but Snape could detect nothing but calm contentment emanating from the big black horse. That was a good start, at least.

With a loud clattering of hooves, Archie Price rode Turpin across the stable yard. Price had the horse on a short rein, pulling his nose right into his chest, and the handsome chestnut jogged crab-wise over the cobbles. He was under control, but not contentedly so. Even without reading his mind, Snape could feel the fear and distrust radiating off him in waves.

Helen and Verity followed Price out of the yard, leaving Snape and Hermione to bring up the rear. Helen turned in her saddle to talk to them.

"We'll head up the bridle path through the woods. It'll be nice and cool for the horses, and it's a really pretty ride along the river bank. Then we'll come back across the fields so anyone who wants a good gallop can have one. Does that sound OK?"

Hermione laughed. "Sounds perfect, though I think I'll give the galloping a miss."

Helen smiled and turned back round. Snape glanced over at Hermione and caught her eye. "Comfortable?" he asked.

"In terms of being cushioned, yes, thank you. In terms of feeling at home in the saddle, rather less so." She grimaced slightly and returned her attention to the path ahead.

Snape was also feeling the benefit of the Cushioning Charm. And was relieved to discover that he did feel at home in the saddle. He held the reins in one hand and rested the other on the horse's shoulder while observing Hermione with interest. Her seat and hold on the reins were absolutely correct, as he would expect, but she looked tense. It was as if her brain had learned how to ride, but her body hadn't. He wondered what other activities that applied to. Riding a broom certainly – that lack in her abilities had been noted at Hogwarts by virtue of it being pretty much the only one.

He allowed himself to speculate briefly on whether her performance as a lover would be guided by body or brain. He rather suspected the former. He thought back to their encounter in the taxi and all their hugs, embraces, and hand-holding since. She seemed extremely comfortable with physical contact. He wondered how specific that was to him – was she a customarily tactile person? He seemed to recall from her student days that she hadn't been one of those girls who were constantly walking around arm in arm with friends. But obviously, she had changed a lot since then. And, of course, this weekend she was supposed to be married to him so would want to show their affection physically.

But a small, hopeful voice in his head whispered, Plenty of married couples don't spend their whole time wrapped around each other. And there was definitely no need for her to fondle my arse like she did. Perhaps there is something there.

At that moment, Hermione interrupted her examination of the path to flash him a brilliant smile. "You look much more at ease than I feel. You and Samson suit each other – strong, dark and impressive."

Yes, crowed the little voice, perhaps there is something there.

*

Oh, arse, thought Hermione. That was subtle. Her nerves were definitely getting the better of her. First she blatantly checked him out in the bedroom; then she quite obviously groped him on the pretext of casting a spell; then she came bloody close to grinding herself on his hand when he returned the favour. And now she was telling him he was strong, dark and impressive. There's nothing like playing hard to get, and that was nothing like playing hard to get. And she'd been doing so well. OK, so she'd been rather more touchy-feely with him than she usually was with anyone, but he didn't know that, and it was perfectly acceptable under the guise of their cover. Maybe he hadn't noticed.

She sneaked a quick look at him. He sat on the black horse with easy grace, reins in one hand while the other rested on his knee. The expression on his face was unusually relaxed. He met her eyes and smiled slightly, and she smiled back with a fleeting feeling of absolute happiness.

*

They continued riding at a walk through the wood. The light was a soft green where it filtered though the beech and oak leaves above their heads. To their right, the river chattered and sang as the clear mountain water rushed over rounded stones. There was little birdsong in the heat of the afternoon, but Snape spotted a couple of dippers darting about in the water and heard the distant cries of a buzzard.

There was a sudden flash of grey to their right and a loud croak as a heron, which had been standing unseen in a river pool, took off clumsily and flew upstream on heavy wings. All of the horses started, but the effect on Turpin was electric. He reared slightly and whinnied in fear, plunged forwards briefly; then he stood stock-still, trembling.

The others halted their mounts a safe distance from the terrified horse. Price had managed to keep his seat, but had now tightened his reins even further and was trying to kick the horse on. Turpin refused to move, so Price pulled a crop out of his boot and used it once, hard, against the horse's flank.

"Archie," protested Helen, "why don't you get off and lead him for a moment? He's just been spooked."

"He's just being stubborn," replied Price through gritted teeth. "He needs to know who's boss." He struck the horse again to no effect. Turpin remained stationary, ears back, trembling still.

"Archie," repeated Helen. "Please get off him. You're not doing any good."

Price turned to look at her, a disdainful expression in his eyes. "He's not the only one who needs to know who's boss. Yuri bought this horse for me to ride. And I will. The way I want."

Snape sighed inwardly. Twice now, he'd refrained from hexing the man. He really shouldn't make a scene. But...

He dismounted and led Samson forwards slightly, handing his reins to a surprised Helen. He glanced back at Hermione, who was watching him with what he was fairly sure was approval.

He walked towards Turpin. "Mr Price," he said softly, "I strongly suggest you do as Mrs Markov has asked and dismount from that horse."

*

Hermione heard the timbre of Snape's voice with a chill of recognition. Three decades' worth of Hogwarts students knew and feared that tone – a softly-spoken Snape was far more threatening than a shouting one. Unfortunately, Archie didn't recognise the steel of intent under the velvet voice and looked down at Snape with a sneer.

"Now listen to me, Doctor," Price spat out the honorific as if it were an insult, "I am not the sort of man you want to make an enemy of."

"On the contrary," drawled Snape, "you are exactly the sort of man I want to make an enemy of. Now, I repeat, dismount from this horse, now." The final word was snapped out like a whip.

Price appeared to be speechless with fury, but didn't move. Snape moved to stand right next to Turpin and laid his hand gently on the horse's neck. As he had done earlier, he murmured softly to the scared animal. Gradually, the horse's trembling stopped, and his nose brushed briefly on Snape's shoulder. Snape muttered something else into the horse's ear.

Price looked down at Snape with suspicion. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Snape stepped back from Turpin's shoulder. "Me? Nothing."

And Turpin gave a sudden, violent buck of his hindquarters. Archie Price sailed inelegantly over his head and landed with a loud splash in the shallow water of the river.

There was a concerted gasp from the women, followed by a quickly suppressed giggle from Hermione.

Turpin strolled innocently over to Snape and nuzzled his shoulder. Snape patted him absently while observing Price with narrowed eyes. The older man had heaved himself to his feet and stood in the centre of the stream, literally dripping and metaphorically fuming.

"Are you hurt?" asked Helen.

Price just glared at her.

"Now," said Snape, still in a dangerously soft voice, "I think you should borrow Samson and go back to the house to get yourself dried off before you upset our hostess further. I'll look after Turpin for you – he and I have come to something of an understanding."

In silence, Price squelched out of the river. As he passed Snape, he snarled, "You'll regret this." Snape merely eyed him with contempt.

Price snatched Samson's reins from Helen and pulled himself up into the saddle. He hauled the horse's head round and with a swift kick to his flanks cantered him back in the direction of the house.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding. It was all she could do not to leap off her horse and envelop Snape in a hug of gratitude and admiration. She was, however, rather concerned that her hostess might not have taken the insult to her husband's business partner lightly. She looked slightly anxiously in Helen's direction. The last thing they needed was to be thrown out of the house. But she needn't have worried. Helen was looking at Snape with a look of slightly dazed happiness.

"I have no idea how you just managed that, but Turpin and I owe you a huge thank you. I don't like thinking ill of Yuri's friends, but Archie, well... Thank you."

Snape inclined his head in acknowledgment, his hand still idly stroking the chestnut's neck. "My pleasure."

"No such reservation from me," interjected Verity. "It's about time that odious creep was put in his place. What on earth have you done to that horse, though? Have you hypnotised him?"

Snape shook his head with a slight quirk of his lips. "Turpin and I met earlier and rather liked each other, that's all."

He turned to address the horse. "Now, if you don't mind, we'll finish the ride together." Turpin whickered softly, and Snape swung himself lightly up into the saddle. Turpin stood like a statue while Snape settled himself and took the reins in a loose hold.

"Shall we, ladies?" Snape asked and nudged Turpin into a walk. Helen drew her horse alongside, leaving Verity and Hermione to follow.

Verity turned to Hermione, her face lit up with a huge grin. "To quote my sixteen-year-old daughter: Oh. My. God. That was amazing. You've got a very impressive man there."

Hermione briefly let herself bask in the reflected glory and tried to keep the smugness out of her smile as she replied, "He has his moments."

Half a mile further on, the path led them through a gate and into a large meadow. Helen pulled up her horse and said, "If anyone wants a good run, we can skirt round the edge of the field. Or you can just walk up this side."

Snape stroked Turpin's neck. "I think this one needs to let off some steam."

Hermione laughed. "And this one definitely doesn't. I don't mind walking up on my own, though."

Verity shook her head. "No, I'm just in the mood for an amble. Go on, Helen; you go with Steven and we'll meet you at the top."

Helen gave the easiest smile Hermione had seen from her and looked over at Snape. "OK? Fancy a race?"

Snape gave a predatory grin. "Competitive? Me?"

And the two horses, chestnut and bay, were off, matching each other stride for stride as they sped across the bottom of the meadow.

*

When they arrived back at the stable yard, Snape could still feel the tingling after-effects of adrenaline in his veins. The confrontation with Price had been an indulgence, but the man really had deserved it. And he had forgotten quite how liberating a headlong gallop could be. Perhaps he should investigate the possibility of keeping a horse at Hogwarts. He dismounted from Turpin regretfully, giving the horse a farewell pat as he handed the reins to the waiting stable boy.

Judging by the laughter emanating from the other side of the yard, Verity was telling Huw about Price's watery exit. Snape strolled over to where Hermione was preparing to dismount from Violet. She smiled down at him at he took the reins.

"Have you had fun?" she asked.

"The afternoon has been... satisfactory, thank you." He could feel the grin he was suppressing tugging at his lips.

Hermione swung her leg over the saddle and slid down the horse's flank, stumbling slightly backwards as she landed on the cobbles. Snape's free arm shot out to catch her, and he drew her in firmly against his side.

She looked up at him with a grimace. "The charm worked, but my legs are a bit stiff." Her arm slipped to its now customary position around his waist.

"There's no rush to go anywhere," he said quietly.

His adrenaline-primed brain was suddenly acutely aware of all the points at which their bodies touched. He allowed his fingers to gently caress her side. She turned slightly towards him and looked at him with an expression of such open affection that even his jaded heart recognised it as genuine. He couldn't help himself. He bent his head slightly and kissed her softly on the lips, allowing himself to savour the brief contact before pulling away. But then he felt Hermione's hand snake into his hair, arresting his movement before encouraging his lips back down to hers. He felt, rather than heard, her soft sigh as they kissed again. This wasn't the heated passion of their encounter in the taxi. This felt more like... recognition.

With an impatient snort, Violet shoved her nose into Snape's side, and the moment was broken. He and Hermione pulled apart as she looked at the horse with a look of mock irritation. "Honestly," she huffed, "I'm surrounded by jealous members of your fan club!"

Snape rubbed the horse's nose. "It makes a pleasant change to be in the company of females with such good taste."

Hermione punched him gently in the arm. "Smug git. Come on. I think I need a quick soak in the bath if my legs are going to be fully operational later."

Now there's an image, thought Snape as he offloaded Violet's reins onto a smirking Huw.

*

Hand in hand this time, they walked back through the gardens to the house. Hermione felt slightly unsettled by what had just happened. At some point, their light-hearted, almost competitive, flirtation seemed to have tipped over into... what? She wasn't sure. And now really wasn't the time to be analysing it, she told herself sternly. She had work to do. On the subject of which...

"I'm going to have a look through that door in the study later," she said quietly to Snape.

He looked at her sharply. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

She shrugged. "Possibly not. But I need to be sure what's there before we confront Markov tomorrow. I'm going to feign a headache after dinner and sneak off to explore while everyone's otherwise occupied."

Snape frowned slightly, "Might it be wiser for both of us to go?"

She was grateful for the fact that he hadn't dismissed the idea outright or insisted that he should go instead. She shook her head.

"No. It'll be better if you can cover for me and make sure no-one gets too curious about my whereabouts."

Snape nodded briefly, although his expression remained slightly grim. "Very well. You're the professional. I shan't insult you by telling you to be careful, but..."

She squeezed his hand briefly. "I know. I will."