Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to JKR. The towel is mine.

Chapter Eight

Hermione watched Severus leave immediately after dinner, having spoken no more than a dozen words to her during the meal. Shaking her head, she finished her tea and returned to her rooms.

"What a pillock! All that talk about sex, and instead of showing an interest, he looked like someone had stolen his favourite bloody stirring rod. Or towel.

"For Merlin's sake, how obvious do I have to be to get the message across? Practically told him I was desperate for a decent shag and watched him last night like a five year old in a sweet shop window. It doesn't take a fucking genius to extrapolate a little!" Rant over, Hermione kicked her chair for good measure.

Then hopped across the floor clutching her foot.

By the time she'd hobbled to the hospital wing and Poppy Pomfrey had healed her broken toe, Hermione had formulated Plan B.

Wearing her blouse unbuttoned far enough to provide tantalising glimpses of her cleavage certainly captured his attention, but Severus seemed content with sneaky ogling rather than a more hands on exploration. Perhaps the utilitarian white bra hadn't been the best choice, but it didn't occur to her until later to put her considerable Transfiguration skills to use.

When she waggled her eyebrows suggestively while asking whether he had been using the Prefects' bathroom recently, he turned a fetching shade of pink and then insisted on examining her eyes to check for foreign bodies.

The final straw came when she bent over to pick up a strategically dropped quill, ensuring her skirt rode up to provide a fine view of her stockings and suspenders. This time she'd used her wand.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you to bend at the knees, woman? You'll be demanding I brew Lumbago Elixir before long." His stride as he left an open-mouthed Hermione staring after him may have been a little stiff, but she was too flabbergasted to notice.

Do I have to strip naked and dance on the staff table to get his bloody attention? Damned man was far more relaxed when he was naked last week.

Hmm. Severus naked in the middle of the main corridor. There's a thought.

The crash of the suit of armour she had walked into startled an entire group of first-year Hufflepuffs into tears.

Shite. Perhaps I should Floo Neville. He might be willing to go another round. For old time's sake.

No, I need help, and I know just who to ask.

Hermione arrived at the weekly get-together for the female staff with Severus on her mind and Plan C, documented in carefully bullet-pointed notes, in her pocket. Waiting until a few drinks had been partaken and the other women were quietly chatting, or not so quietly in the case of Rolanda and Pomona, who were seemingly sharing past sexual exploits in the corner, Hermione stood and cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, ladies. I wonder if you could spare a few moments to help me with a little problem I've been having?" Minerva looked up, curious, but otherwise the conversation continued. Sighing, Hermione added, "A little problem with a man."

Suddenly, she was the focus of attention. Rolanda's eyes gleamed as she nudged Pomona and whispered in her ear. The rotund Herbology professor giggled and nodded.

It was the ever-pragmatic Septima Vector who broke the silence. "Has Severus still not succumbed to your womanly wiles?"

Hermione's mouth, opened to begin her explanation, closed with a snap. Glancing around the room, she realised all her colleagues wore the same smug expression. The bloody biddies knew damn well what had been going on between her and Severus. If it was so obvious to them, why hadn't he cottoned on?

"He... I... We..."

"He's as blind as he is foolish, dear." This from Poppy Pomfrey. "Always has been, always will be. The man can spot a misbehaving student from three corridors away but can't see what's under his nose when it comes to personal matters."

"But how do you...?"

"It's obvious to any woman with eyes you two fancy each other. The sexual tension between you is damned near visible." Aurora Sinistra sighed wistfully. "I remember the days when Henry and I were the same."

"What I don't understand is why you haven't just dragged him off to your rooms and had your wicked way with him." Rolanda poured another drink and raised her glass to the idea.

"It's not like he'd object. You should see the way he stares at your arse when you're not looking. The man definitely has ideas, and they all involve what's in his pants." Irma Pince cackled, then glared at the astounded expressions around her. "What? Even dried-up old librarians had a life once. Ah, those were the days..."

Hermione flopped into the nearest armchair and armed herself with a stiff drink. "It's not quite that simple. We've, well, had a few misunderstandings lately, and I'm not sure how he'd react if I used a direct approach."

"I bet he'd get the idea if he found you in his bed, naked with a glass of champagne and a little chocolate sauce. He seemed to know his way around his cock, if that article was any indication." Rolanda rolled her eyes as Pomona blushed bright red and hid behind her glass.

"The article was pure drivel, and it's not the point. I don't just want a quick shag. Well," her cheeks matched Pomona's, "I do, but I want more. I want... I... Oh, fuck." Realisation hit with all the subtlety of a rogue Bludger.

Minerva weaved across the room and perched on the arm of Hermione's chair. Even with several double whiskeys on board, she could see the problem. "There, there, dear. You can't help it if you've fallen for the Greasy Git of the Dungeons."

Jumping to his defence, even if he was a git most of the time, Hermione chided her superior. "Minerva! You can't call one of your staff members that!"

"Yes, I can. I'm the headmistress. I can call 'em whatever I want in private." Minerva looked around the crowded room and frowned into her glass. "I think I need another whiskey." She wandered off to the corner in search of her precious bottle.

Hermione was still wrestling with the revelation that she not only wanted to get Severus alone and naked – and preferably tied up with something silky – but had fallen in love with the snarky bastard and wanted to marry him and have lots of babies. Well, maybe the latter had something to do with the three wines and two Firewhiskys she had consumed in the past hour or two, but the idea must have come from somewhere scary deep in her logical academic soul.

"But what do I do?"

Brandishing a sheet of parchment and a quill, Septima offered them to Hermione.

"What's this for?"

"Notes. We need a plan. Come on, girls. Ideas for seducing the old grouch. Anyone?"

"He's not old. He's only..."

"Forty-five. Yes, we know. Pomona, you have something?"

"What about a nice picnic in Greenhouse Four? I have some lovely flowers blooming in there at the moment, despite the weather. Isn't magic wonderful?"

Septima poked Hermione with her wand. "Well, write it down."

Rolanda smirked. "You should ask him to teach you to fly. Merlin knows, you need help."

Hermione swallowed hard, but noted the suggestion. Irma's recommendation of somewhat risqué poetry readings she decided to ignore.

"A night of stargazing up on the Astronomy Tower would be awfully romantic," was Aurora's contribution.

"Or a nice massage at the end of a busy week. Good excuse to get some of his clothes off." Poppy winked at Hermione, a disturbing sight.

Even Minerva joined in. "Better still, take him a hot toddy nightcap. I'll give you some of my best whiskey. That'll loosen him up."

Several suggestions and a few more drinks later, Hermione farewelled her colleagues and made her way to her rooms. Thankful the students were safely tucked up in bed, she hiccupped her way towards her own.

"Curfew was two hours ago, young lady. Ten points from... Granger? Have you been drinking?"

"Just a... hic... little. Was at women's... hic... staff meethic!"

Severus's eyes narrowed. "I thought that meeting was supposed to be a formal staff gathering."

Staggering a little, Hermione leaned against Severus's side as they walked down the stairs. "Can't tell you. Hic! Women's business. Hic!"

"Come along; let's get you into bed."

"I wish," Hermione muttered.

Leaving her at her door with a nod, Snape completed his rounds, satisfied the night's only miscreant had been safely escorted to her room.

A/N: This was written for the 2012 SSHG Exchange on LiveJournal. Thanks to karelia for wrestling with the commas.