Six: Love's Got A Lot To Answer For

Anti-Litigation Charm: None of the characters belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling, who let my entire reason for reading the Harry Potter series bleed to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I'm building a better world.

For Sempra and Mimi

Severus had only pretended to be asleep when Hermione and Poppy entered his room. Inwardly, he wanted to cringe as Poppy confided to the girl about his condition, but he found himself too strung-out to care.

The Dark Caress sizzled and burned under his skin, especially around the Dark Mark. There, the tattoo itched and scorched, inflaming his mind and overloading his brain with intense signals from Miss Granger. It heightened his senses to a blinding peak. He could smell her scent; the soft smell of her soap, the even more enticing aroma of her body. She smelled warm and tangy and so delicious he wanted to...

No. Don't think it, because the thought will start running around in your mind until all you can do is think about it. But she smells so delightful, and she would taste like nectar... all innocent and new and oh, she would respond to my touch as wondrously as I would to hers... Touch me, Hermione...

He tried to tell himself it was the curse alone that made her so irresistible. But she had touched him, long before the curse had been cast. He was a fool if he believed that, once the curse dissipated, his feelings for her would return to that of a teacher for his student. You make me feel safe, Professor. When would he feel safe? I don't lust after students. She was another burden to add to his growing list; first Lily, then...

When Poppy left the room, he decided he would try to salvage some sort of future for himself out of this situation. Barring that, something he could show the Dark Lord, so that his Master would not feel the curse had been given in vain. To a Death Eater, the Dark Caress was a prized gift from their Lord and Master. It would not do to show a lack of gratitude.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up, and saw her professor watching her, his expression one of puzzlement and pain. "Why are you here? Where is Madam Pomfrey?"

Hermione smiled, and pressed a cool hand against his forehead. Magic could do much, but the human touch was equally as powerful. "Madam Pomfrey was called away, so I'm afraid I'm the last biscuit in the tin again." She said it lightly, but in reality, her heart was pounding. Just being this close to him gave her such a feeling of conflict.

Even lying here, helpless, he was fascinating. His hair was tangled and oily, he was disheveled and sweaty, and yet she found herself feeling drawn to him. Riding fast behind her increasingly baffling attraction to him was her fear for his health, which drove her desire away with one guilty wave of its hand.

Professor Snape looked at her, his eyes squinting in the light. He looked so pale and fragile; it was strange hearing such a lovely deep voice, coming from his wasted frame. "Miss Granger, it's not safe for you to be alone with me."

Hermione smiled. "Sir, you are as weak as a kitten. And, in case you'd forgotten, you are restrained."

Her professor struggled briefly against his bonds. Without looking at her, he replied, "Do not presume to feel safe, Miss Granger. Restraints can be broken."

"I'm not afraid." She looked into his liquid, dark eyes with conviction. "I know you're the last wizard on earth who would hurt me."

He looked at her for a long time, and closed his eyes. Even with the curse scoring grooves of lust and aggression into his tired mind, he felt the most un-Slytherin-like compulsion to tell the truth. "I don't want to hurt you, lass." He looked at her. "I would never hurt you willingly. But there may come a time when I have no say in the matter." He dared to look into her soft, amber eyes. They were troubled, and troubling.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand what's going on. The Headmaster won't even tell Madam Pomfrey."

Professor Snape snorted. "No, I suppose he wouldn't." He stole a glance at her. She looked so innocent, so good... so willing. "Miss Granger, I've been given the Dark Caress, and you are my target."

She stared at him for a moment. He could almost see her mental gears grinding together, trying to find some memorized reference on the subject. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what that is. What does it mean?"

"The Dark Caress is a curse created by the Dark Lord. It was given to Death Eaters to increase their strength, as well as their courage. In the early days, the newly initiated Death Eaters were given the caress before they went on Muggle raids. To the witch or wizard cursed, it fills them with desire to control and dominate their target. As the Death Eaters became more jaded and corrupt and depraved, they used it to enhance... sensations at the Dark revels.

"Most of us have a moral code that we will not break. The Dark Caress obliterates that moral code. It gives the cursed one a feeling that they have the right to do or say anything they desire."

In spite of his weakness, Professor Snape coloured slightly, and grimaced. "Now, it is primarily used to lower inhibitions of both the cursed and the target."

"And a Death Eater cursed you so that I would be your target?"

"No, Miss Granger. The Dark Lord himself cursed me." His tone was as bitter as gall. "It's like some grisly party favour to him. He knows I don't..." Hermione's professor pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I do not think of students in this manner. He was giving me permission to lose control with you." His sighed, in frustration. "I have brought this on myself. I apologise that you are affected by my weakness."

Hermione watched him carefully. She felt slightly ill. "Oh, Professor. I'm so sorry." She swallowed. "It's my fault; I caused this." At her declaration, Professor Snape looked at her thoughtfully. "If you hadn't been thinking about Sirius and me, the Dark Lord wouldn't have seen me, and you wouldn't be here." A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently. "I'm sorry. My emotions are getting the better of me."

"It is part of the curse, Hermione." His voice was molten, dark. Yes, that's right. Let her believe the Dark Lord discovered her. How would she feel if she knew you betrayed her to him?

"It is a transference curse. The target of the curse feels the dark pull as well. That is why you must stay away from me. I can almost control myself if you are not physically so near. My emotions, my desires, my needs will reflect in you, and yours in me." He paused, and looked away. "You are the reason I am restrained."

A small, dark voice buzzed in his head, taking over and pushing truth beneath the desire to entice her, to intensify her feelings of protectiveness and care. "It is why the curse is so hard to break. It will fade in time, but it will not go completely away. Both parties become willing subjects to it until it is broken."

Hermione felt herself go cold for a moment. She was deathly afraid to ask the question, and yet, she already felt she knew the answer. She looked down into his dark, fathomless eyes, and something like his usual smirk passed across his face for a fleeting moment.

"The wheels are turning so fast I can hear them, Miss Granger." His eyes burned into hers, then he turned and looked at the ceiling. "Ask."

Hermione swallowed. With a mouth as dry as dust, she asked, "How is it broken, sir?" He was quiet for so long, she thought he would refuse to answer.

Go on, lie! the curse insisted. He resisted as long as he could, but the Dark Caress was still too fresh, too swift, still running too hard in his veins. He turned to look at her again. "How do you think, Miss Granger?" He gave her a look of pure hunger.

"Consummation."

Hermione felt her body flush. She could actually feel heat radiate from her chest, up into her face, and down into her groin. She stood very still, trying to master her thoughts, unable to meet his eyes, afraid that he would look into her mind and see them.

Severus cursed himself silently for the blatant lie. The curse would wear itself out after a few days, but it still compelled him to lie, to do whatever it took for her to come to him. It was a curse of subterfuge and manipulation. He tried to correct himself, and opened his mouth, but the curse would not let him speak. He lay back on his pillow with a growl of annoyance. Half-truth was about the best he could manage.

Fighting every instinct, he ground out, "The curse can be controlled. I have sworn to protect you from Black, Miss Granger. I will not have you swap one predator for another."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. I – I don't know what to say. I'm not - " She felt a little queasy at the thought of saying this to anyone, much less Professor Snape. "I'm not ... experienced."

For a moment, he, too, was quiet, and Hermione realised he was as embarrassed as she. Somewhere in her mind, she wondered just how much experience he could boast of having.

Quietly, he replied, "That scarcely has any bearing on the situation, Miss Granger. Left unchecked, it wouldn't matter." He, too, was having trouble meeting her eyes. "Nothing would stop me from taking... From taking what I want. And, I'm afraid, Miss Granger..."

He met her gaze. She could see him struggling to remain in control. "Of what, sir?"

He spoke as if he hadn't heard her. "That is the way the curse works. It is an insatiable hunger that must be fed."

Hermione persisted, "Professor? What exactly are you afraid of?" She felt herself growing hot, then cold, the same way she had in his office, when he'd stroked her cheek, and called her his good girl. "What are you afraid of?" she asked again, her voice husky.

He turned his head, and his onyx eyes met hers. They glowed like wet coal. With a slight smile of pure sensuality, he purred, "I'm afraid you'll let me, Hermione."

She was in over her head. She knew it now. There was that feeling of being totally inadequate, that she so often felt in his presence. She wasn't mature enough to handle this, and knew she'd better get mature pretty quick, or this whole thing would engulf them under the tidal wave this whole situation had become.

She took a deep breath, and bit her lip. Now was the time for Gryffindor bluntness, not Slytherin guile. "I am attracted to you." The instant the words left her mouth, she wanted to pull them back in again. Any moment, he would be chiding her for her clumsy Gryffindor candor.

Instead, he replied, almost mildly, "That is the curse. Once I've touched you, it is ignited – "

"No."

He frowned, irritated at the interruption. She held his gaze, and shook her head.

"No. I was... before."

He merely stared, his eyes hooded and unreadable. She flushed again. "I felt this way before you were summoned. Maybe even before that. The curse has nothing to do with it."

He shook his head. "You merely think you are attracted to me." Don't hope! Don't think! Don't feel, you fool!

"What is the difference in thinking and being?" she challenged.

He scowled. Even flat on his back, it was an intimidating frown. "May I remind you, lass, I'm a Death Eater, a spy, and almost twenty years older than you?"

Hermione stood her ground. "May I remind you that I knew all of this before? That you have always protected me and my friends? That you confessed to me that you cared about me? Before you were cursed? That your feelings for me have changed from a student to... something else?" She pressed on, blundering blindly, feeling her way through this awkward, intense tennis match played with words.

Professor Snape huffed and thumped his head down on the pillow. "My feelings are immaterial. I've learned that the hard way."

"They aren't if they - they aren't." Impulsively, Hermione put her hand over his. He calmed slightly. His eyes closed, and he lost some of the rigid stiffness in his limbs. Gently, Hermione asked, "Does it feel better when I touch you?"

He sighed. "Initially, yes." There was a faint line between his sensitive brows. "But it will become torture until we – " He turned away.

"Please, sir," she said, and impulsively stroked his forehead. He sighed softly. He tried to move away, but the bonds held him in place. "Tell me to stop touching you because you don't want it, and I will stop. But tell me the truth, so I can at least try to make you feel more comfortable." She sighed. "Please tell me how I can help you."

Professor Snape turned and looked at her. Her eyes were full of compassion, and pity, and it made him feel sick with guilt. He had promised to protect her. He'd just spent the last ten minutes manipulating her into almost climbing into bed with him.

A few more soft groans of pain, a pleading look, a softly worded request, and she'd be straddling him, doing whatever she could to 'make him feel more comfortable.' Oh, gods, he'd let her. He didn't care if Dumbledore and Pomfrey and McGonagall and the entire fucking staff walked in on them, he wouldn't let her stop until they were both - Oh, fuck it all!

"Don't be so kind to me, Miss Granger. I do not deserve it." He spat the bitter truth of his words, and he wanted to die. This was another sort of humiliation, an almost unbearable one.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't understand you. Why shouldn't I show kindness to someone who has helped me?"

He looked at her. His voice hardened, lost its pearly luster. "Do you have no memory? I have treated you abominably over the years. I've insulted you, ridiculed you, scorned you – "

"I know," she said, quietly. She smiled ruefully. "And there were times when you hurt me terribly." She took a deep breath. "But you're just going to have to get used to the fact that I forgive you for it."

"Do you know what they call you?" He tried to pour as much vitriol into his voice as possible. He sneered, "You're a popular subject of conversation amongst the Death Eaters." He gave her an appraising look through narrowed eyes. "They call you my little Mudblood whore."

She grew very still. She looked at him with great dignity. "Is that what you call me? Not there, I know you have to join in. But in here?" She touched his forehead. "Is that what you me to yourself?"

Severus sighed. She may be almost twenty years his junior, but she outstripped him in sheer courage and strength and yes, even maturity. She was finer made. He looked into her eyes and saw hope behind the expectant expression. If he said yes, she would know he was lying. He somehow knew it.

"No." He looked at her, and there was such conflict in his face. "I truly don't understand you." He watched her carefully, the relief flitting across her face. He would have to teach her to hide her emotions better. That would be their first task. Softly, he said, "You're a maddening witch, lass."

His words made her skin tingle pleasantly. Even now, his voice had the ability to cajole and bewitch; to make an insult sound like a caress.

To his surprise, she suddenly grinned mischievously. "I know. The sad part of it is, it seems to be one of my most attractive traits."

Severus looked at her thoughtfully for several minutes. There was tenderness in her gaze, and absolute trust. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Finally, he said, "Miss Granger, take out your wand." When she hesitated, he said, "I'm not going to try to talk you into releasing me. The Headmaster's spell can't be reversed, anyway."

Hermione, slightly hesitant, said, "But you could, couldn't you? The curse... You could make me do things against my will, couldn't you?"

His gaze followed the moon shining though the window, as if to avoid looking at her. He finally turned to her and gave her a look of pure shame. "Not after we do this."

With his head, he gestured down toward his right hand, and turned it, palm upward. "Miss Granger, draw a mark across my palm with your wand. As you do, incant 'Tergum Lubricus'."

He waited patiently while Hermione obeyed him, drawing the tip of her wand across his hand. She gasped, as a line of blood beaded across his palm. She looked up at his face, her own frightened.

He was slightly breathless. "Now, do the same for yourself. It won't hurt."

When she hesitated, Professor Snape barked, "Hurry up, girl! If you are so eager to trust me, you must trust me completely!"

With an unsteady hand, Hermione drew the tip of her wand over her palm. "Tergum Lubricus." It was more like a feeling of heat being laid across her palm, and soon the blood began to pool in her hand.

"Good." She looked up and saw Professor Snape watching her intently. "Now place your hand in mine, Miss Granger. Our blood must mingle."

"Are we doing blood magic? isn't that part of the Dark Arts?"

Snape sneered. "Intent, Miss Granger. Surely you remember your DADA notes: Intent is the difference between the dark and light. Hurry now, Madam Pomfrey will return any minute."

Finally, Hermione awkwardly placed her hand within his, bound as his was by his side. She had to lean down beside him, to press their hands completely together. She felt the warmth of his palm, as his fingers twined with hers. A tingle began in her hand, that shot up her arm and into her body. It felt like pleasure; it felt like torture.

Quietly, he lay back on his pillow, his eyes boring into hers, her face close to his. "By my blood, which flows to yours, I swear that I will not harm you in any way against your will, nor will I allow harm to come to you while I am able to prevent it. By this blood oath, I swear it."

He was looking deeply into her eyes, and their faces were close together, almost touching. Hermione, shocked, held on. "By my blood that flows to yours, I swear that I will not allow harm to come to you while I am able to prevent it."

She held on. Almost without thought, she looked into his obsidian eyes. Her mouth opened, and before she could give it rational thought, she whispered, "I swear I will never allow another to take what belongs to you. By my blood oath, I swear it."

He looked at her, shocked. "What did you say?" Their magic swirled around them, and Severus felt it enter him, like a flaming sword piercing a martyr. It was an agony that felt like ecstasy; it was a pleasure that felt like punishment. It felt beautiful and gruesome and somehow perfect and perverted all at once. Professor Snape looked at her in dawning horror. He had not meant for this to happen. "You foolish girl! What have you done?"

Hermione was almost leaning over him, their hands locked together, intertwined. Their fingers spasmed against one another's in a painful grip. Hermione felt the spell race through her body, into her chest. Her nipples hardened in pleasure. Her groin was suffused with delicious heat. She felt almost like her body was going to orgasm, and she froze in terror. She couldn't, not now! She realised their foreheads were touching, and both were breathless and sweaty now.

As quickly as it happened, it was gone, and she gasped, breathless with the mortifying thought that her professor might have noticed the state of her body.

Severus felt the dark pleasure race through his body as well. His face flushed, as his cock twitched into life, feeling the heat of arousal. It was thankfully, blissfully brief, and he, too, collapsed in relief.

For a moment, Hermione lay against his shoulder, too weak to move. Madam Pomfrey would be returning any minute, but it felt so good to sit here, her head against his pillow. Any moment now, he would bark at her for her shameless behaviour, but she really couldn't care less. She felt that comforting safety of being here. Even now, in his weakened state, he still felt like sanctuary.

Finally, he spoke, and she could feel his lovely voice rumbling in her ear. "Miss Granger, please sit up. Aside from being entirely inappropriate, it isn't helping my cause at all." Hermione sat up quickly, feeling sheepish and numb. She looked away guiltily, acutely aware of her body.

Finally, Hermione removed her hand. To her astonishment, the wound had completely sealed. There wasn't even a scar to mark it. As she looked down at her palm, he shook his head. "What on earth possessed you to take an oath like that?" He looked shocked and angry and frightened.

Exhausted, still breathless, exasperated, she replied, "We look out for one another! We are in this together, Professor Snape!"

"There is no 'together'! Don't be stupid! You've set yourself up to get killed!" With a growl, he turned away from her. "I am not worth you making such a foolish oath."

Hermione was stunned. "You've no right to tell me who is and isn't worthy of my help, even if it is you!"

Professor Snape looked at her carefully. For a long moment, he studied the young woman. How had they come to this? Finally, he said the only words to make her leave. "Why must you persist with this charade of caring for me? You're a child. A student!" He looked at her with cold, black eyes. "Can't you leave me a little bit of pride?"

Hermione watched him for a moment. She said, quietly, "I know you. You care, even though you want me to believe you don't. In fact, you care so little, you take a blood oath to protect me from harm, even from yourself. You ask me why I care?" She shook her head, and her eyes were tender and compassionate, and strong. "How can I not care, Professor?"

They heard footsteps in the infirmary, and Hermione, on impulse, leaned down and kissed his cheek. Her lips were a breath away from his. She rose quickly, and turned to leave. Then changing her mind, she faced him again.

"Goodnight, Professor. I will visit you tomorrow. I will learn to be of use to you." Her eyes met his unblinkingly. "We can keep each other safe. Where no one can find us."

Hermione walked out of the room without looking back. Although the wound was gone, her palm still tingled, not only from the blood oath she'd taken, but from the heat of being held fast in the hand of her professor.

The next evening, he was less agitated, more lucid. While he was still magically bound to the bed, he was now able to sit up. Madam Pomfrey allowed Hermione a few short minutes alone, while she made her rounds of her other patients.

"It's Hogsmeade weekend, sir. Is there anything I can get you while I'm there?"

Her professor answered with a scowl. "And what, pray tell, would I want from Hogsmeade, Miss Granger? I'm scarcely on tenterhooks pining for a nose-biting teacup from Zonko's."

Hermione rolled her eyes. He could be so irritating at times! "I realise that, sir, but I thought there might be something you require from the apothecary, or some chocolate from Honeydukes."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Miss Granger, why are you telling me about this weekend? Why are you beating around the bush in very clumsy Gryffindor fashion?"

"You don't have to be so insulting!" She looked at him defiantly, and he scoffed.

"Don't sulk, Miss Granger." His tone softened imperceptibly. "What is troubling you?"

She hesitated for a split second, then gathered her courage. "Harry and Ron want me to go with them to visit Sirius on Saturday. He's going to sneak out of Grimmauld Place, over to the Shrieking Shack."

Professor Snape scoffed. His eyes darkened. He growled, "The fool! He's just itching to get caught! Here we are, fighting for our lives and he risks everything just because he's bored." He looked up at Hermione. Her expression was not one of commiserative frustration about Black.

Oh. Very good, Severus. The girl is looking to you for help, and you use it as an excuse to bitch about his total laziness.

"You could stay in the castle." He watched her carefully. "You don't have to go."

"Well, that's the thing. Harry is so insistent – "

"Miss Granger, you don't have to do Mr. Potter's bidding!" he snarled, and she glanced toward the closed door, half expecting Madam Pomfrey to appear.

"I've decided that I'm going to go there early, and I'm going to have a talk with Sirius. I'm going to tell him his behaviour is out of order, and that I feel uncomfortable around him because of it."

For a moment, her professor stared at her, eyebrow on the rise. "Oh, really? Do you honestly think Sirius Black is going to heed your wishes, Miss Granger?"

Her chin rose. "He will, or risk having his bollocks hexed off!"

"Language, Miss Granger. Your attempted familiarity with me does not constitute having to listen to your fishwife's tongue. Five points from Gryffindor."

She coloured, fuming. "Sorry, sir." She took a deep breath, which stretched into a stifled a yawn, and it was only then that Severus realised she looked exhausted.

"Miss Granger, are you not sleeping well?" Their eyes met, and she felt the heaviness in hers, and the disapproval in his. "I will not be amused if this affair has caused both of us to suffer, instead of just myself."

She smiled. "I'm fine, sir." She glanced at the clock, and jumped to her feet. "Is that the time? I'm sorry, sir, but I have to go. I have a – " The letters 'DA' almost sprang to her lips, and she caught herself just in time. She gulped. "A study meeting, and I'm almost late."

He tilted his head in that skeptical way that said, 'I don't believe you, but I'll indulge you.' He sighed. "Very well, Miss Granger. Heaven knows why you come here anyway. I fail to see what you hope to accomplish, pestering me every evening."

She looked at him, shocked. Then she shook her head, a smirk playing about her lips. "It's been nice visiting with you, too, sir. Goodnight."

As she turned, he said, "Miss Granger?"

She turned back, her eyebrows raised in query. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then huffed. "If you wish for me to accompany you to the Shrieking Shack on Saturday, you have but to ask."

Hermione's shoulders dropped, and she gave him a smile that he felt in his gut. Bastard, he told himself.

She shook her head. "Thank you sir, really." She almost glowed with pleasure. "I think I should try to take care of this on my own. But I'm grateful for the offer." She gave him a final smile, before she left him to his thoughts.

On Friday, Severus declared that the curse was gone. A careful examination showed no lingering effects, no dark magic. Late in the evening, after Miss Granger had paid her daily visit, he returned to his quarters.

Once he'd settled back into his rooms, he approached the fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder, threw it into the fireplace and shouted, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Black, no doubt I'm interrupting a stimulating evening full of invaluable work for the Order, but I wish to speak with you."

Severus was already in the Shrieking Shack when Sirius slunk in, a black, unkempt mutt. Almost instantly, he transformed into his human body, and looked around briefly. He spotted a mirror above the deserted fireplace, and preening into it, Sirius muttered, "Right, then, Hermione love, hurry up before the boys get here."

A few minutes passed, and Severus stifled a laugh at Black's restless pacing. Azkaban hadn't managed to teach him patience, even after all this time. Restlessness and boredom were clearly written all over his face, and Severus allowed himself to be pleased at the small diversion he'd created, which ensured that the 'Golden Trio' would be late for their appointment with Harry's godfather.

Just as Sirius seemed to be ready to jump out of his skin, Severus decided to make his move. He stepped out of the shadows, wand drawn.

"Yes, it's very easy to get bored sitting around doing nothing all day long, isn't it, Black?" Sirius whirled around, to find Severus standing there, smirking at him. He grinned mirthlessly at Sirius. "Oh, yes, all play and no work makes Sirius a very, very dull boy."

Black, unnerved, managed to recover. "And what do I owe this honour, Snivellus? Surely you have better things to do than sneak around all weekend, spying on me?"

Severus snorted. "Oh yes, I do, Black. As a matter of fact, I have several things I have to do. It must be grand, sitting around in your house all day, waiting to do your utmost for the Order." The sarcasm in his tone slashed through the room like a hex, and Sirius' chin rose in defiance.

"You know," Sirius snarled, "I'm not even going to dignify you with a reply." He looked around the dusty room. "So when did you plan to tell me why you wanted to see me before Harry and Hermione arrive?" Severus noticed he didn't even bother to mention Ronald Weasley.

Realisation dawned on Sirius' face. "Oh, you must be here for Hermione." Baby-talking, he said, "Does widdle Hermione need big bad Snivellus to protect her from me?"

"She's a very capable witch, Black. She has no idea I'm here, and that is the way you will no doubt prefer it. I'm here to warn you to leave her alone. She doesn't welcome your advances." His subtle emphasis on the word 'your', did not go unnoticed.

"And you think she's welcoming yours?" Black laughed derisively. "You're even more pathetic now than when you were a snot-brained little oik slobbering over Lily." Sirius sneered at his old enemy. "Do you honestly think Hermione would feel anything but disgust at the thought of your touching her?"

A sudden, white-hot anger rose in Severus' belly, and his smile made even Sirius falter. With a quiet shrug, Severus drawled, "She hasn't been complaining so far."

Sirius scoffed, "Do you really expect me to believe that Hermione Granger wants you? I've seen the little chit up close. She's willing to spread them for anyone who'll give her a bit of sweet talk. And let's face it, Snivellus," Black said, "I'll get her. I always do. I had Lily, and I'll have her. It will be like old times, stealing the girl out from under your nose." He gave a little mocking bow. "And in the end, we'll have a right old laugh about you, Hermione and me."

Black fully expected Severus to lose his famous temper. He'd pushed all the right buttons, and the dig about Lily had led to crossed wands more than once in their long, bitter rivalry. He sat back and waited for the explosion so he could laugh. Snape could take a lot of shite, but laughing at him was like a red rag to a bull.

Instead, Snape pulled his robes around his waist, and Sirius' formidable self-assurance faltered, as Severus not only remained calm, but actually smiled. "You see, that's where you're wrong, Black. She and I have spent some very extensive enjoyable time together discussing this in private, and I'm afraid the joke is on you."

For a moment, Black looked at Snape, his expression uncertain. It soon turned ugly. "Oh, you must get such a hard-on, thinking she would want you. You really are a sad little man, Snape." Black was quiet for a moment. Almost gently, he said, "And what do you think will happen when I tell Harry that Professor Snape has been molesting his best friend?"

"I would think his best friend would then inform Mr. Potter that his godfather is the one who's been doing the molesting, and I'm merely her protector." Severus gave Black a smug little smile. He couldn't resist, even though he knew Miss Granger would be less than pleased with his insinuation. "What we do to and for each other beyond that, is, I'm afraid, between Miss Granger and myself."

Sirius shook his head. "And who do you think Harry will believe, Snivellus? A randy little witch, or the man who was his mother and father's best friend?" When Severus didn't reply, Black went in for the kill. "The Easter holidays are coming up soon, and everyone will be spending them with me. I'm Harry's godfather, Snape. We'll all be together, and I'll remind Harry how wonderful his parents were, and how much I miss them.

"I'll tell him how much his mother loved him, and how important he is to me." There was something disturbing in Black's eyes that Severus had never seen before.

Black continued, "And not only will Harry believe me, instead of his hated Potions master, but everyone else will, as well." Sirius smiled mirthlessly. "No one trusts you, Snape, especially where a lovely young witch is concerned. The question is: what are you going to do about it?"

Severus knew at that moment, he shouldn't have come. The effects of the curse had not left his system. He would have never risen to the bait, otherwise.

In his silkiest voice, Severus crossed his arms, and looked upward, as if contemplating. He replied, "Well, let's see. What am I going to do about it?" He smiled almost sensuously. "Oh yes, that's right."

His dark eyes were cold, and his voice sounded like smoke sliding over ice. His smile was positively feral with lust. "While you're convincing Mr. Potter and his syncophants to recommend you for sainthood, what am I going to do about it?"

In a lasciviously seductive voice, he purred, "I'm going to be tucked up in bed, popping a very, very sweet, juicy little Hermione-flavoured cherry." In an almost-feline gesture, he licked his upper lip slowly, to pour a little salt in the wound.

Sirius was looking at him when something caught his eye over Severus' shoulder. His smile grew equally smug. "Well, well. Hello, love."

Severus whirled around, and found himself face to face with a very pale, very livid Hermione Granger.

Hermione looked at the two wizards for a long moment.

Sirius, the first to recover, smiled and crossed to her. "How lovely to see you, Hermine! How long have you been here?"

"Long enough, Sirius," she said, her eyes never leaving that of her Potions professor. "Harry and Ron are on their way. I thought I'd try to get here a little earlier to speak with you, but it seems I wasn't early enough."

Severus stood still, waiting for the explosion. Merlin knew he deserved it.

Sirius was unmoved. "Wonderful! Professor Snape was just leaving, weren't you?"

"Yes, he was." Hermione looked pointedly at her professor. "And so was I." She gave him a hard look. "Professor Snape? May I have a word, please?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger," Severus replied, with a smooth calmness he didn't feel. He swept by her, and Hermione, after giving Sirius a look of pure disdain, followed in her professor's wake.

Quote and Chapter title is from Love's Got A Lot To Answer For, by Nick Lowe