Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Porridge, Post and Prejudice....

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"Good morning, Professor Snape." Theodore Nott's voice was carefully bland, his face deliberately expressionless. Snape hesitated for just a fraction of a second before pulling his chair back from the High Table and carefully sitting down. Rather than arrive together for the second morning in a row, Hermione was deliberately taking the circular route to the Great Hall so as to deflect attention. She had also checked his neck for love bites. And had insisted that he wash his hair that morning in the shower with her.

A sudden vision of her, pressed up against the cold tiles in his bathroom, breathless and laughing at the shock of cold against her back as his fingers chased the rivulets of water over her breasts while her hands...

"Did you enjoy your evening off, sir?" Nott asked, passing the coffee pot across to his Head of House.

Slamming up his Occlumency shields with a force that he hadn't used in years, Snape shot him a look, but Nott's face showed nothing but polite interest.

"I marked fifth-year essays, then went to bed," he said shortly. It was the truth after all... barring the two hours or so of enthusiastic (and acrobatic – he was sure that he had tweaked an abductor muscle) love making that had left both parties sweaty and glorious in the aftermath.

Nott smiled.

Snape sneered.

Nott passed the sugar. "Will Professor Granger be joining us for breakfast this morning?" he asked nonchalantly, spearing a mushroom and popping it into his mouth.

Severus' eyes narrowed. Cheeky little bastard. "I have absolutely no idea," he replied smoothly. "Professor Granger's whereabouts are absolutely none of my concern."

"Oh, have you seen Hermione then this morning, Severus?" the Headmistress called from a few places away, breaking off from her conversation with Flitwick to hail him. "I wanted to let her know that the new Arithmancy texts she ordered have been delivered this morning...."

He could feel heat rising slowly up his neck and clamped down hard on the flush that was threatening to appear. He cleared his throat. "I was just informing Professor Nott that I am currently unaware of Professor Granger's location," he bit out.

"It's not like her to miss breakfast," muttered Sprout in what Severus thought a suspiciously lewd undertone.

Whatever response he might have attempted to that remark was lost in a cheery, "Good morning!" as the professor in question bustled into the Hall behind them, pulled out the chair next to Severus and sat down. "Good morning everyone! Are those pancakes? Wonderful!" She turned to look at him, and her smile was bright and thrilling. "Could you pass the coffee please, Severus?"

Snape fought the temptation to roll his eyes and groan. Gryffindors. She might as well have made an announcement to the whole bloody Hall. Both Minerva and Pomona were sporting appalling smirks, and Nott was practically snorting into his porridge.

Snape prepared himself to deliver a withering comment, but before he could speak, the daily post-owl delivery began, and the level of noise in the Hall increased exponentially.

Severus usually did not pay much attention to the morning post. He rarely received correspondence, and if he did, he was sure to make use of his own owl (a discrete black banded species with above average intelligence) in order to avoid such a vulgar, public display. He regarded the scene below with distaste.

True enough, the adolescent hoard was now shouting out in horror, delight, or surprise at messages and parcels from home and making far more noise than was necessary. The whole irritating process usually lasted for some minutes. He pressed his lips together in irritation and returned his attention to the coffee in his hands.

Hermione's nudge under the table caused him to look up.

A huge grey owl was approaching the High Table, flying unerringly straight towards him. Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise as the bird wheeled about and dropped two identical envelopes on the dark oak table in front of him and Hermione.

The envelopes were unmistakeable. He felt Hermione tense beside him just as the conversation around them dropped.

"Is that the Malfoy crest?" the new Charms teacher (whose name Severus had not yet bothered to learn) asked.

"Interesting..." Nott commented under his breath, his eyes dancing with barely suppressed mirth.

Severus pocketed his envelope with immediate aplomb and shooed the owl away with a murderous flick of his wand hand. Hermione was still looking at hers as if it were about to explode.

"Aren't you going to open it, dear?" Sprout asked loudly, thus ensuring every single staff member's attention was riveted on both of them.

Cursing his fate and nosey Herbology teachers everywhere, Severus watched Hermione slowly slit open the envelope with her thumb and withdraw its contents. Aside from an effusively decorated invitation card, with her name in Lucius' perfect, flowing script, was a strange-looking purple and green ticket.

Hermione stared at the ticket for a few moments, her expressive face alive with a series of emotions that ranged from distaste to incredulity.

"Severus...," she asked into the pregnant silence that had fallen on the staff table. "Why has Lucius Malfoy sent me a ticket for Wimbledon?"

***

Hermione sat perched on the edge of her sofa, holding the Malfoy invitation by her fingertips.

It was a trick.

Clearly it was a trick.

What was the smooth bastard up to?

She re-read the letter once more.

Dear Professor Granger,

Lucius Malfoy

The old scar on her arm itched, and she flicked a look at it.

MUDBLOOD

Done to her at Malfoy Manor seven years' ago while Lucius and Draco had looked on and Narcissa had held her sister's cloak.

"In the spirit of reconciliation."

"Old prejudices and judgements."

The clanking and banging of the ancient plumbing system in her en-suite bathroom heralded the arrival of her... What should she call him? Boyfriend was out – he had made that abundantly clear.

The ferocious look Snape was wearing as he stalked into her living room pushed that thought to one side.

"What's wrong?" she asked, half-rising from her seat.

"Your deranged towel rail just tried to assault me," he muttered, rolling his shirt sleeves down his forearms.

Hermione pulled a sympathetic face. "Ahhh... sorry about that. It's rather pushy. Doesn't like to see anyone leave without thoroughly drying their hands."

"I prefer a charm," Severus bit out a trifle sulkily. He looked at the letter in her hands. "Will you accept his invitation?"

"Will you accept yours?" she retorted smartly.

"Of course," he replied. "It would be considered very rude if I didn't."

Hermione bit back the obvious response and turned her attention back to the letter in her hands. "What is he up to?" she asked, frowning at the flowing script and careful words. "And why bloody Wimbledon, for goodness sakes?"

Severus sat down beside her so that his thigh was pressed against hers. He leaned further against her to read the letter, and then he shrugged. "Perhaps you should simply take his letter on face value," he suggested, running a light finger along her right hand and up her forearm. She shivered slightly at the teasing touch. "He is keen to make amends. There is a lot to be said for changing your point of view about a person, after all," he murmured, dragging his fingers carefully across the open v-neck of her teaching robes.

Carefully, he kissed her jawline and lipped his way under her ear and along her throat while gently plucking the card with Lucius' invitation out of her numb hands. She felt him follow her as she sank backwards onto the cushions, her mind whirling and her body reacting to his tender, if rather clumsy, caresses.

"So who are you going to invite to go with you?" he whispered into her shoulder, sending delicious tendrils of want skittering across her sensitised flesh.

"Mmmmm," Hermione moaned. "You of course...."

Snape snickered, kissing her again. "Don't be ridiculous. We can't possibly go together...."

Hermione stilled beneath him.

It was bad enough she had to pretend that there was nothing between them at school (she supposed she could understand that – it might place both of them in a potentially difficult situation with staff and students alike), but not to acknowledge her in an entirely non-wizarding environment... in front of Malfoy of all people.

"Why not?" she asked in a forcibly reasonable tone, still unmoving beneath him.

"Well, that would be tantamount to..." He licked her throat again, nuzzling her neck.

"'Tantamount to...'?" she asked in a tone that would have immediately warned a less distracted partner that he was entering dark waters.

"And who will you be taking?"

She felt him shrug. "I thought Nott might be amused by..."

"NOTT?"

She could not control the stinging surge of magic which threw him off her and dumped him on the floor in an affronted tangle of limbs.

***

Two short minutes later, Snape was storming down the staircase from the Gryffindor Tower.

Even Peeves kept his head down.

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A/N: Oh, dear....

I am pleased to say that beaweasley2, Clairvoyant amd nagandsev are helping me to get the next installment to you in a week's time. They are wonderful - and so is JKR, the original creator of this universe.