Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Betaed by the ever-reliable peskipiksi. Disclaimer: any recognisable characters/locations are JKR's.

Chapter 3

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace in the Headmistress' office and carefully brushed a few stray cinders from her robes onto the hearthstone. Minerva McGonagall had been seated behind her desk but rose with a warm smile of greeting.

"Hermione, my dear, welcome back to Hogwarts." McGonagall seized her hand.

"It's good to see you, Professor, but not in such circumstances. How is Pomona?"

"Not well, I'm afraid, not well at all." The Scottish witch's soft brogue thickened briefly with emotion. "Let's get you down to the hospital wing."

Hermione followed closely behind as McGonagall left the office and began to swiftly descend the spiral staircase.

"Severus didn't give me any details in his note. What's the matter with her?"

"We think she's been poisoned," replied McGonagall grimly.

"Poisoned? How?"

"A plant specimen arrived for her this morning. There was a card, saying 'From an admirer' or some such thing. She took the plant down to the greenhouses to examine it. Shortly afterwards, she started complaining to Neville of feeling short of breath. Her condition worsened through the afternoon, and by early evening she'd lost consciousness. Poppy has tried everything she can think of, and has managed to stabilise her, but..." She trailed off with an expressive shrug of her angular shoulders.

"So it was the plant?"

"We can't be sure, but the timing seems rather coincidental. Neither Pomona nor Neville could identify the specimen, and that's the strange thing. Scatty as she seems sometimes, Pomona is no fool when it comes to unknown herbage. Neville assures me that she wore gloves and protective clothing the whole time. But Poppy insists that the cause is definitely poisoning, and the plant is the most likely culprit."

"I suppose she may have had a hole in her glove or something," replied Hermione thoughtfully, the image of a cursed Katie Bell coming to mind.

"Maybe. Of course, once we realised it was poison, and an unknown one at that, Severus was the obvious person to send for. He came at once, bless him: he swept in, interrogated everyone, nearly reduced poor Neville to tears, disappeared back home briefly, then returned saying he'd sent for you and could I meet you in my office."

Walking along the candlelit corridor, Hermione was assailed by the familiar Hogwarts smells – food, smoke, a whiff of sulphur from the dungeons and the background aromas of cleaning fluid and sweaty socks. It was nearly eleven o'clock, so all the students were (theoretically at least) in their common rooms or beds, and the castle was uncannily quiet.

They arrived at the hospital wing to find the ward dimly lit, with only the bed by the furthest window occupied. They walked softly over to it.

Pomona's face was ashen, her usually buoyant hair sweat-slicked and limp. Her plump figure seemed somehow diminished by the white sheets tucked tightly around her. Her eyes were closed, but her fingers twitched fretfully.

Madam Pomfrey appeared from her office at the far side of the ward.

"No change, I'm afraid." She responded to McGonagall's enquiring eyebrow with a sad shake of her head as she approached. "I've put her under a Stasis Charm, but it's not holding. My most recent diagnostic spells indicated that the poison has permeated every cell of her body. It's having a gradual heating effect. I'm trying Cooling Charms, but they're just not strong enough."

"What about an ice bath?" suggested Hermione.

"A what?" asked McGonagall.

"It's a technique sometimes used in Muggle medicine to bring down body temperature in cases of extreme fever."

Pomfrey and McGonagall exchanged doubtful looks. "I can see how it could work," began Pomfrey. "But it might be too great a shock to her system. I'll keep it in mind as a last resort, though. Thank you for your input, Miss Granger."

"Where's Severus, Poppy?" asked McGonagall.

"He's gone to his old classroom. He asked me to tell you to take Miss Granger down to him."

"I can go down by myself, Professor," Hermione assured the headmistress. "If you'd prefer to stay with Pomona."

McGonagall shook her head. "No, I'll come with you. Not, I hasten to add, because I've been summoned, but because I'd like to know exactly what Severus is up to. I may have asked for his help, but this is still my school," she added with some asperity.

*

Hermione and McGonagall arrived outside the Potions laboratory, to be greeted by the unexpected sound of raised voices coming from within. They exchanged puzzled looks, then McGonagall flung the door open. They were confronted with the sight of Severus Snape and Ronald Weasley, toe to toe in the middle of the room, glaring at each other.

"Ron?" exclaimed Hermione incredulously.

"What on earth is going on, Severus?" demanded McGonagall, her sharp tones echoing around the stone walls. "Mr Weasley, what are you doing here?"

"My question precisely," drawled Severus with a sneer. "I requested assistance from the Auror Office, but they appear to have misunderstood my request and sent the tea boy instead."

Pointedly, Ron turned away from Severus and addressed the two witches. "Hi, Hermione. Professor. As I was explaining to Mr Snape here, I'm the Auror on call tonight. Which means that the Ministry has certified me qualified to deal with any Dark-magic-related emergencies that arise."

"And as I explained to Mr Weasley," interjected Severus, "this is not a matter of a cursed wastepaper basket. One of the finest witches of her generation has been near-fatally poisoned, so I would welcome the attentions of someone with considerably more in the way of intellect and talent. If such a creature any longer exists among the Aurors' ranks. The fact that they recruited Potter as well as the sidekick is somewhat indicative of the bottom of a barrel being scraped."

"Severus!" interjected McGonagall reprovingly. "I hear that Mr Weasley has proven himself perfectly competent in his chosen career."

"I think that qualifies as damning with faint praise," retorted Severus sourly.

At that Hermione moved to his side and put her hand on his arm hesitantly. He looked at her in slight surprise, as if noticing her for the first time. The barest smile of greeting pulled at his mouth.

"Hermione," he said softly. "Thank you for coming."

"Severus, I'm as worried about Pomona as you are," she began in what she hoped was a calming tone. "And do you know what? I'm glad Ron's here. He'll do everything he possibly can to help because he cares as well. I don't tell him this very often, but he is really, really good at his job. He's dogged and determined, and I'd trust him with my life any day. And, even though he's my best friend, you know I'd say he was hopeless if that's what I thought, don't you?"

Severus held her gaze steadily for a moment. Then he ran his fingers through his hair with a long sigh and turned back to face Ron. "Mr Weasley. You are at least fortunate in one of your friends. If Hermione says you are capable of this task, unlikely as it seems, then I believe her. But rest assured, if you fail in any element of your duty, I will feel honour-bound to remind you just how dangerous I can be, most likely by eliminating any hopes you ever had of furthering the Weasley line."

Ron grinned back, unabashed. "I don't doubt it for a moment, Severus. Is that what we're calling you nowadays?"

The other wizard raised an eyebrow but refrained from comment.

"So," began McGonagall, "now that's settled, what course of action do you propose?"

"The initial priority is to identify the poison," began Severus. "With Hermione's help, I shall analyse the plant itself. Mr Weasley's role is to find who the specimen came from, in the hope of gaining information on the poison that way."

Hermione nodded. "OK, then. Ron, there was a card with the plant, so you'll need to examine that for fingerprints or magical signatures; then you need to find out how the plant arrived at the school, then..."

"Hermione, love," interrupted Ron. "You know how you've just convinced everyone I'm good at my job? Could actually you let me do it?"

She had the grace to look slightly shamefaced. "Sorry. Force of habit."

Ron's freckled face split into a cheerful grin once more. "No problem. And don't worry; I will do what you said." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "First, though, can you fill me in on exactly what happened? Perhaps we could go up to your office and let these two get their brains working."

McGonagall nodded. "Very well, Mr Weasley." She looked sternly at Severus and Hermione. "I expect you to take the utmost care with that plant. I don't want anyone else joining Pomona."

"Don't worry; we will, Professor." Hermione gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll let you know as soon as there's any progress."

The door closed heavily behind them and Hermione turned to Severus once more. "Right, then," she asked. "What would you like me to do?"

He led her to a bench at the middle of the room, already half-covered with equipment and ingredients. In the centre was a large plant in a pot. The leaves were a deep, glossy green with jagged edges. Unusually for the time of year, it also bore a multitude of tiny, bright yellow flowers.

"Identifying plant poisons is notoriously complicated," explained Severus. "To begin with, the toxic element may be magical or non-magical. Cyanide kills wizards and Muggles with equal ease. In addition, the component parts of a plant may have different properties. Contact with the leaves of the Hibernian Swampwort, for example, causes a severe rash which can be healed using the sap of the same plant. This means that using Scarpin's Revelaspel on a plant may produce inconclusive results since the magical effects of the separate plant parts can undergo interference – even cancel each other out."

"Have you tried Specialis Revelio on this one?"

"Naturally. And the results were indeed inconclusive – magic is present, but I couldn't separate out the different elements. Our first task is to split the plant into its component parts – roots, stems, leaves and flowers. Then we need to conduct two types of examination on each, to identify all of the magical and non-magical substances present. Are you familiar with Muggle techniques of chemical analysis?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Are you?"

Severus gave a slight smile. "Of course. In that case, I will carry out the identification of the non-magical compounds while you cover the magical aspects. I assume you can still remember your NEWT-level Potions?"

"Oh, it's all in my head somewhere. It'll come flooding back when I get started. Being in here is already bringing back memories." She glanced briefly around the familiar dungeon.

"It is indeed," responded Severus grimly.

They were soon clad in protective gloves and robes and wearing Bubblehead Charms in case of toxic smoke. The plant was dissected in short order, and they took samples from each part. They both worked quickly and quietly, the only sounds being Hermione's occasional muttered incantations.

After half an hour or so, there was a brief pause in activity as they both waited for cauldrons to boil.

Hermione broke the silence. "I'm sure Blaise would have done this for you, you know. Not that I mind helping, but he's better qualified."

"Mr Zabini did indeed offer his assistance, but I refused it. Until we know who is responsible for the attack on Pomona I prefer to rely on only those I am sure I can trust."

"You don't really think Blaise has anything to do with it, do you?"

Severus paused for a moment before replying. "For much of my life the maxim 'Trust no-one; suspect everyone' proved apposite. I have strayed from that slightly in recent years, but I find the current situation calls for its reassertion."

Hermione felt an acutely painful realisation of just how alone Severus had been for so long. "When this is over," she said quietly, "I think we need to find you a better philosophy to live by."

"Any suggestions?" asked Severus lightly, apparently examining the piece of parchment in his hand.

"I've always rather liked the realist's motto: 'Hope for the best; expect the worst.'"

Severus chuckled and looked up to meet her eyes. "I can manage the second half. It's the first that proves problematical."

"Perhaps I could help with that."

"You already do."

Hermione was sure from the way Severus hurriedly looked back down to his parchment that he hadn't intended to verbalise that thought. She regarded his bowed head for a moment, until a hissing noise from one of the cauldrons made them both start.

"Back to work, then," she said briskly and picked up her stirring rod, determined to attribute the sudden racing of her heart to the lateness of the hour and the vital importance of the task in hand.

*

The work was slow and frustrating, but by four in the morning they had a comprehensive list of all the magical and non-magical substances contained in the plant. The problem was that none of them appeared to be poisonous.

Severus sighed deeply and rubbed his hands over his face. "I was afraid of that." He picked up the parchment on which they'd detailed the results. "Any number of these could be combined to give a toxic effect. We'll just have to go through all the permutations." With difficulty, he refrained from expressing the litany of swear words currently coursing through his brain.

Hermione took the list from him and looked down it. "Right, I'll get my computer. Shall we work at your house or mine? The magical field here will fry the circuits totally."

He mentally berated himself for so quickly forgetting about her Muggle-inspired shortcut. He was getting too old for working through the night.

"My place," he said decisively, as if he'd had that in mind all along. "I've got the lab, so we'll be able to get to work on the antidote more quickly."

He picked up a spare piece of parchment and quickly wrote a note for McGonagall, detailing their plans. He enchanted it, and it took off, flying through a gap under the door and off to find the Headmistress.

"Come on, then," said Hermione. "We'll Floo to Grimmauld Place, then we can Apparate to yours, as you're not civilised enough to have a Floo connection."

"Civilisation is overrated," muttered Severus as he approached the fireplace.

*

He watched Hermione as she worked. He'd made tea, supplied her with the books and parchment she needed, and now there was nothing else he could usefully do. So he watched. She was oblivious to his observation, only looking up from her keyboard and screen long enough to check a figure in a book or scrawl something on to one of her ever-growing number of lists.

His inaction frustrated him. He felt the need to pace up and down the laboratory. Or start brewing something. Anything. But he didn't want to disturb Hermione's concentration.

Her hair was escaping from the rather haphazard plait into which she had tied it earlier, and a particularly unruly tendril kept falling into her eyes. She repeatedly pushed it away, only for it to return moments later. Severus raised his wand to charm it back in to place, then remembered, just in time, the effect such an action would have on the computer. What was it she'd called it? A laptop, that was right. He'd seen such machines in use occasionally, usually by sales reps, or the like, in the pub.

Hermione brushed her hair back out of her eyes once more. Severus eased himself up from his stool and went to stand close behind her. Gently, he swept the offending strands back from her forehead and tucked them back into the plait. She jumped slightly at the contact, then reached a hand back to touch his.

"Thanks," she said softly before returning her fingers to the keys. He watched for a little while, fascinated, as figures and equations rapidly appeared on the screen. She paused in her typing while the calculations continued, seemingly automatically, in front of her; then she copied some numbers down on to her parchment.

Severus returned to his seat.

*

Hermione groaned in annoyance. This did not make sense. Severus was instantly at her side.

"Problem?" he asked, anxiously.

She turned to face him, a scrap of parchment in her hand. "I'm not really sure. The six substances I've got here are highly toxic in combination, and they all occur in the flowers. As far as I can tell, their mode of action would be to raise body temperature, which is what's happening to Pomona." She saw a look of relief beginning to spread across Severus' face and held up a warning finger. "But," she continued, "that toxic effect only occurs if it's activated by water. And unless Pomona touched the flowers with a glove that not only had a hole in it but was also soaking wet, I can't see how the activation happened."

She put her head back and puffed a long breath out through her mouth. Tears of frustration were threatening. "I don't know what to suggest, Severus. If this isn't it, and we waste time making the wrong antidote..." She could hear the break in her voice and stopped speaking.

Severus held a hand out to her, which she took gratefully. He tugged gently until she stood up; then he released her hand.

"Have a break," he said softly. "Get some fresh air, try and relax for a few minutes, and then we'll decide what to do."

Feeling grateful to be abdicating responsibility for the moment, she followed him out of the laboratory and into the sharply cold garden outside. There had been a frost overnight, and the grass crunched under her feet as they walked towards the far side of the lawn. She noticed with surprise that the sky inland was already beginning to lighten.

"What time is it?" she asked in a low voice.

"Nearly seven," Severus replied equally quietly.

There was a low bench at the end of the garden, facing out to sea. They sat down on it, and Hermione leaned back gratefully, rolling her head slightly to ease out the stiff muscles of her neck. There was no wind, and she could hear little waves breaking on the shore below. Somewhere close by, birds were beginning to sing tentatively. Otherwise, all was silent.

She shivered slightly, belatedly realising that she'd forgotten to put her coat on.

"Cold?" Severus had obviously felt the movement.

"A bit," she admitted.

Wordlessly, he moved towards her slightly and put his arm around her. She relaxed against him and he drew her tighter.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"My pleasure."

She felt the reverberation of his voice where her head rested on his shoulder. She fitted into him perfectly. She tried to remind herself that this was Professor Snape she was cuddling, but she couldn't bring herself to care. His other hand was resting on his knee, and she reached over and took it in hers. He intertwined their fingers and squeezed gently.

She inhaled deeply, the sea air invigorating her as it entered her body.

"Hermione..."

"I've got it!..."

They spoke simultaneously, Hermione's triumphant exclamation almost drowning out Severus' soft uttering of her name.

They both sat upright, out of their embrace.

"What do you mean?" asked Severus in confusion.

"I know how the toxin was activated!" explained Hermione excitedly. "She breathed it in! It must be the scent from the flowers. And when it reached her lungs, it dissolved in the moisture on the lung lining. That's the water that activated it! And, of course, from the lungs it entered the bloodstream, which carried it to every cell in her body. I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier." She shook her head ruefully.

"I bow to your superior knowledge of human physiology," said Severus, inclining his head. Then a genuine smile lightened his face. "Well done, Hermione." He stood up, taking her hand and pulling her up. "Come on, then. You've got an antidote to devise."

*

It didn't take long for the excitement to dissipate. Hermione jabbed her finger at the computer screen as she showed Severus the ingredients list for the antidote.

"Most of this stuff is pretty basic – I recognised the formulae straight away. Rue, mandrake root and so on. But I've got no idea what this final one is. It's not in the sodding Arithmantic Dictionary!"

She put her head in her hands and let out a "grrrr!" of frustration.

Severus moved from where he had been looking over her shoulder to sit next to her.

"Let's look at this logically," he began. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure the formula is correct?"

Hermione raised her face from her hands and glared at him. "I've checked it eight times. That enough?"

Severus continued hurriedly. "The next question, then, is why it's not in the Dictionary. You're more familiar with it than I am. Is there any class of substance that it doesn't cover?"

"Not that I can think of. It didn't used to be very reliable on Muggle plants, but that was corrected in the latest...hang on. This is the latest edition isn't it?"

"I doubt it – I've had it for years," responded Severus as Hermione leafed back though the book to the frontispiece.

"Ha!" she said with a sudden grin. "Thank Merlin for that. This is ancient. Right, I'll just pop home and collect mine, which is the newest version." She made to stand up, but Severus put his hand on her shoulder to stay her movement.

"Why don't you let me get it?" he asked. "It'll save you the energy of Apparating, and you can make a start on working out the methodology."

"If you're sure," she began doubtfully.

"I'm sure," he replied firmly. "Where's the book?"

"In the library." She closed her eyes briefly and frowned in concentration. "First bookcase on the right, four shelves from the bottom, just left of the centre."

"Can you do that for all of your books?" he asked in a tone of amusement.

She grinned. "A quite tragic number of them, actually. Go on then, if you're going."

He bowed, mockingly. "Your wish is my command."

"You're in a very whimsical mood this morning."

"Merely light-headed from lack of sleep," he retorted over his shoulder as he left the laboratory.

*

He returned ten minutes later holding two books. He dropped Hermione's Dictionary onto the bench next to her and resumed his seat at her side.

"Wonderful!" she said as she picked the volume up and began rapidly leafing through it. "What else have you got?"

"It occurred to me that as it's likely to be a plant we're dealing with, a comprehensive Herbology text might be useful. I helped myself to your copy of A Botanical Inventory: Magical and Mundane. Your library is a credit to you, by the way – very well organised."

"Something of a testament to my lack of a social life," said Hermione with a huff of laughter. She ran her finger down the page in front of her. "A-ha! Here we go. The missing ingredient is the root of the perennial centaury, Centaurium scilloides. Ring any bells?"

"Not in the slightest, but that's why I brought the other book. Let's see... The perennial centaury is exceedingly rare, occurring only at one site in West Wales that is known to Muggles, and a site in Cornwall that is not. Well, that's one stroke of luck – it's local." He scanned the rest of the entry and gave a snort of laughter. "According to an eighteenth century Muggle grimoire, adding the plant to lamp oil would make those on whom the lamp's light shone think they could fly. It's probably a hallucinogen. Pomona would approve of that."

His eyes travelled to the bottom of the page. "Bugger. Apparently the root of the plant has a magical action only when harvested at midnight." He slammed the book back down on the bench in frustration. "One of these days I'm going to come across a Potions ingredient that can only be collected in warm sunshine while holding a pint."

"Have we got until midnight?" asked Hermione in a small voice. "Can Pomona wait that long?"

Severus stood up, face set into a grim expression. "I don't know. Would you object to me returning to Grimmauld Place and using your Floo connection to speak to Minerva?"

"Not at all. Do you want me to come with you? There's nothing more I can do here for the moment."

Severus shook his head. "No, you stay." His face softened slightly. "Why don't you go into the house to wait? Sit down somewhere more comfortable. You must be exhausted."

"I think I've gone through exhaustion and out the other side, actually. How about I put the kettle on and maybe sort out some breakfast for us? I won't be able to relax until you're back, anyway."

She stood up and stretched her arms above her head. "I assume you've got some food in your kitchen? Or do I need to go and beg from one of your neighbours?"

She was rewarded with a slight smile. "You should be able to find something. I'm getting used to having visitors with large appetites."

She stuck her tongue out at him as they left the lab together.

"Very ladylike," Severus commented. He paused and touched her arm briefly. "I won't be long. Go on, get yourself inside. It's cold out here."

Hermione nodded wordlessly, then watched as he walked a short distance and Apparated away.

*

She was soon busying herself in the kitchen, opening cupboard doors at random, then examining the contents of the fridge. The windows faced inland, and the early morning sunlight was illuminating the room vividly, glinting gaily from polished surfaces and making the woodwork gleam. Hermione wished her mood was as bright. She also wished she'd insisted on going with Severus. It was agony, waiting for him to return and being unable to do anything except worry about what the news would be.

She realised she'd been gazing into the fridge for several minutes without taking the slightest note of what was inside. She closed the door with a sigh and rubbed her hands over her eyes. Put the kettle on. She could manage that, at least. She filled it from the tap, then placed it on top of the range to boil. It was only last week that she and Pomona had been teasing Severus about the proliferation of Muggle appliances in his kitchen. He'd refused to rise to the bait, laughingly protesting that sometimes Muggles got it right. He'd pointed to the said range, explaining that he'd yet to discover a magical technique (house-elves excluded) that would warm the house, heat water, cook a casserole and boil a kettle with basically no effort on his part. Even Pomona had conceded that point.

Hermione sighed again as she thought of Sprout; then she dragged her mind back to something more productive. Breakfast. She couldn't manage cooking. Toast? She retrieved a loaf from the bread bin and charmed a knife to slice it while she located butter and jam. She observed the handwritten label on the jam jar with a smile, briefly speculating as to what 'herbal' remedy this had been exchanged for.

"What's so funny?"

She jumped at the sound of Severus' voice from the doorway and nearly dropped the jar. She put it safely down on the table. "I was just admiring another one of your gifts from a grateful neighbour."

She looked searchingly into his face as he lounged against the doorframe, hand in pockets, and was relieved to find he looked relatively cheerful.

"Well?" she continued impatiently. "How is Pomona?"

"A little better, thanks to you."

"Me?" asked Hermione, confused. "What did I do?"

"The ice bath you suggested has proved remarkably effective. Poppy has managed to get Pomona's temperature to a more comfortable level. She's reasonably confident that she should be able to keep her stable until the antidote is ready."

Hermione gave a heartfelt sigh of relief. "Thank goodness for that. So, we wait until midnight."

Severus nodded. "I'll prepare the base of the antidote later; then we'll just be able to add the root after harvesting and take it straight back to Hogwarts. Incidentally, I've got a temporary Floo connection, so Minerva can contact us immediately if there's any change."

"I wondered why I didn't hear the front door when you got home. I'm impressed you managed to rouse anyone from the Floo Regulation Panel at this time on a Sunday morning."

"I didn't need to. Mr Weasley arranged it for me. Anonymously as well, so my location remains a secret. I have an unpleasant feeling I may have to revise my opinion of him upwards before this affair is concluded."

"I did tell you he knows what he's doing. Has he had any luck finding out who's responsible?"

"Apparently he has some 'promising leads'. Talking of promising, what's for breakfast?"

*

Hermione licked a stray smear of jam from her finger with obvious pleasure. She glanced up and realised Severus was watching her from his seat on the other side of the kitchen table.

"What?" she asked, a note of challenge in her voice. "This is delicious. I hadn't realised how hungry I was until I started eating."

"Evidently," he observed, looking meaningfully at the meagre remnants of the loaf of bread.

"Sod off," Hermione retorted cheerfully. "You've eaten more than me. Where does it all go, anyway? I assumed you were thin because you didn't eat, but I've seen no evidence of that."

"When I eat, I eat well, but I do have a habit of getting tied up in my work and forgetting about food."

Hermione nodded in recognition. "I'm like that as well. Merlin knows what size I'd be if I remembered to eat three meals a day." She put her hand to her mouth then to conceal a huge yawn.

Severus stood up. "Come on, young lady. Bed."

She opened her eyes wide in an expression of artful innocence. "What are you suggesting, Severus?"

"That you need some sleep. After being up all night I think any other bedroom activities are currently beyond me."

"What a shame." She gave him an impish grin.

Merlin's staff, am I actually flirting with her? More to the point, is she actually flirting with me? Strange what sleep deprivation can do.

He held her gaze for a moment, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. She met his eyes frankly; then he noticed her cheeks starting to colour slightly, and she hastily looked back down at the table. She picked up her mug and drained the last of her tea; then she stood up and stretched.

"You're right – I'm shattered. The thought of my bed is suddenly very appealing. Is your Floo connection in the living room? I haven't got the energy to Apparate."

Severus nodded in confirmation and followed her as she left the kitchen.

When they reached the fireplace she turned to look at him. "Promise me you'll let me know straight away if there's any news. No rubbish about not wanting to disturb me." Her eyes looked into his anxiously.

"I promise. Now go. Sleep. And come back tonight suitably attired for plant hunting."

She laughed slightly at that. "You try to get some rest as well."

"I'll do my best."

Hermione moved closer to him and kissed him swiftly on the cheek. "Sweet dreams," she said softly before stepping back to the fireplace. She took a handful of powder from the pot on the mantelpiece and threw it into the fire, saying clearly "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," as she stepped into the emerald flames.

Severus watched the fire for a long moment after she had disappeared. Something in their relationship had shifted in the last twenty-four hours. When he'd told her yesterday how much her friendship meant to him, he had been admitting it to himself as much as to her. But once he'd done that and received her graceful reciprocation, it was as if he had given himself permission to imagine more than friendship. With 'imagine' being the operative word, he told himself firmly. A brief hug on a bench and a bit of exhaustion-induced flirting do not a romance make. And they certainly didn't add up to the fireworks Hermione was searching for.

He looked away from the fire, the after-images of the flames still appearing in his vision as a faint imitation of the real thing. Which, he reflected regretfully, was the best he could ever hope to offer.

*

Greatly to her surprise, Hermione managed to sleep soundly for several hours. She awoke, slightly disorientated, in the middle of the afternoon. Her first instinct was to head straight back to Severus' house, but she restrained herself. After all, if he had heeded her advice, he would be asleep, and she didn't want to disturb him. Her next thought was to contact McGonagall for news, but the same restriction applied. The rational part of her brain knew that if there had been any change in Pomona's condition, someone would have been in touch. Unfortunately, the irrational part of her brain very much wanted some reassurance.

Ron! she thought with relief. He won't be asleep. He'd better not be, anyway. She wrapped her dressing gown more tightly around herself and ran lightly down the stairs to the basement kitchen. She knelt on a cushion on the floor in front of the fireplace and threw in a small handful of Floo Powder, calling out Ron's office location before plunging her head into the flames. She was met with the familiar sight of Ron's alcove in the Auror Office, albeit seen from an unfamiliar angle. Ron was sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously, but looked up with a jump when Hermione called his name.

"Bloody hell, love, you scared the crap out of me! Everything OK?" he added anxiously. "She's no worse, is she?"

Hermione shook her head, trying not to get a face full of ashes in the process. "Not as far as I know. I just wondered how you were getting on."

Ron smiled understandingly. "I'm amazed you've left it this long before checking up on me. I heard you've nearly got the antidote sorted – well done."

Hermione shrugged modestly before realising the absurdity of such a gesture when Ron could only see her head. "It was a joint effort. Severus deserves as much of the credit. Anyway, how are you getting on?"

"Pretty well, actually. According to Filch, the plant was delivered yesterday morning by a boy from Hogsmeade. I managed to find him and have a chat. He didn't know the man who asked him to make the delivery, but he gave me a good description. And we got some wand signature traces from the card. It appears the sender wanted to disguise his handwriting, but he obviously didn't realise that nowadays we can detect which wand has been used. I'm waiting to see if we can get a match from Ollivander's files."

"So you've nearly got him?"

"With a bit of luck. Of course, he may have been cleverer than we thought and used someone else's wand, but let's be optimistic, eh?"

"That's great, Ron. Well done."

"Stop sounding surprised, you." Ron pointed a finger at her jokingly. "Now go on. Back to Severus. I'm sure he's waiting for you."

"What do you mean?" responded Hermione slightly defensively.

"What do you mean, 'What do I mean?'. You managed to persuade him I'm good at my job, which is nothing short of a miracle. The poor bloke is obviously besotted with you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron." Hermione hoped he would attribute her suddenly flushed cheeks to the heat from the fire. "I do need to go, though. See you later. And good luck."

"Cheers, love. Bye!"

Hermione rose from her kneeling position and put her hands, cool from the stone floor, to her still-heated cheeks. As she was fond of reminding him, Ron generally had the emotional sensitivity of Gillyweed. The fact that he thought that Severus liked her was neither here nor there. But she still couldn't suppress the sudden lightness in her heart as she ran back upstairs to get dressed.

*

"Move your hands up a bit. No, further. A little tighter. Nearly there... just to the left a fraction. Ah, perfect." Hermione sighed in satisfaction. If Severus had imagined how the night's plant hunting was going to turn out, he'd certainly never visualised this: lying on his stomach on the grassy cliff top with his hands gripping Hermione's denim-clad legs as she suspended herself precariously out over the edge.

He should have known that any population of plants not known to Muggles would be growing in an extremely inaccessible position. It was fortunate he was in the company of a small-handed witch who was unafraid of heights.

"Got it!" came her muffled voice from below. "You can pull me up now."

Obediently, Severus shifted his grip slightly on her legs and used his knees and elbows to heave himself backwards. With considerable effort and a complete absence of dignity, he managed to haul her back to safety. They both eased themselves up into a sitting position and caught their breath.

Hermione brandished a rather battered looking plant in her left hand. "Here we go, then. One missing ingredient, harvested at midnight. I really hope it's the right one."

"I still don't know why you wouldn't just let me Levitate you down," complained Severus.

"I told you – this felt safer. Hanging slightly off the edge of a cliff with my feet held by someone I trust is one thing – being suspended totally out in mid-air with no visible means of support is quite another. I'd have had flashbacks to Thestral rides. Anyway," she continued with a wicked grin. "I thought you'd appreciate the chance to demonstrate your manly strength."

Severus looked at her face, dimly illuminated by the lantern he'd brought, but glowing from within with triumph. And possibly from the after-effects of being held upside down. She looked utterly lovely. He stood up briskly and held his hand out to help her up. She took it, and he pulled her to a standing position.

"There we go," he said. "Manly strength demonstrated again."

"I'm suitably impressed," she acknowledged with another smile. He vaguely noticed that she still held his hand. She took a step closer to him, close enough that she had to tilt her face up slightly to meet his eyes.

"So am I," he responded quietly. "Not by your manly strength, obviously, although..."

She silenced him by the simple expedient of kissing him softly on the lips. She moved away a little, looking at him uncertainly.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I didn't..."

This time he silenced her, touching a finger gently to her mouth. He held it there as he shook his head. "Don't apologise." He tentatively moved his hand to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. Cat-like, she pressed her face slightly into the caress. He looked into her eyes, expecting her to move away at any moment, to make a joke, even to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. But she remained still, with a small smile on her face, accepting his presumption as if she welcomed it. Pomona would be proud of me, he thought irrelevantly, and with that thought came the recollection of the urgency of their night-time jaunt. With great reluctance he moved his fingers away from Hermione's face.

"We should get back."

"Yes, of course," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone, looking hurriedly away and releasing his hand almost as if embarrassed. "I'll see you back at the house."

There was a sudden, loud 'crack!' from behind them. They both spun around, wands instinctively in hand. Before them was the form of a slim young man, his wand held out threateningly low.

"I strongly recommend you drop those," he said warningly, nodding toward their wands. "And I'll have the plant as well. Now!"