Lesson Five

Lesson Five

"Hey, H'mione, y' wanna come to Honeydukes wiff us?" Ron spoke around a mouthful of Chocolate Frog.

"We've already been to Honeydukes," Hermione replied, "and if you eat any more sweets, you are going to give yourself a stomachache."

"So?" Ron answered defensively, swallowing. "Harry gave me a gift card to Honeydukes as an early Christmas present, and I mean to spend every single Knut of it." Ron procured the gaudy, flashing, multicolored piece of paper in front of her nose, as if she needed proof that he actually had one.

"Why do boys love to eat until they become ill?" she asked rhetorically. "Actually, Ron, I need to go to the post office and send an owl. I'll meet up with you later."

"Suit y'seff," Ron mumbled around another mouthful before turning and walking off to meet up with Harry and Ginny. Not wanting to witness the results of all that sweet-binging, Hermione vowed to stay as far away from her friends for the rest of the outing. Let them deal with the repercussions; Ron would undoubtedly live through it, just like he had several times before..

Sighing to herself, Hermione fished through her bag as she walked, searching for the list of books she wanted to order from Flourish and Blotts. She bemoaned the fact that Hogsmeade didn't have a proper bookshop. She daydreamed of one day opening a bookshop here, somewhere where the more studious students could relax on Hogsmeade outings, someplace cozy and inviting ... maybe someday.

List in hand, she entered the post office and took a piece of parchment from the bin labeled 'Economy – White' and grabbed a quill.

She had nothing of importance to order today; she simply felt the need to add to her already overflowing library. Hogwarts didn't allow students enough bookshelf space in her opinion. Most of her library had already been shrunk to the size perhaps a small house-elf would appreciate. She wondered if house-elves liked books ... It was certainly a thought for another day.

She began scribbling her order:

To: Flourish and Blotts

Diagon Alley, London

Please send the following to Hermione Granger at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:

Persnickety Potions by Alice LeBerger, P.M.

Algorithms and Arithmancy by Drusilla Atwater

Lady Chatterly's Lover by D.H. Lawrence (Muggle Literature)

Please charge Gringotts account, as per usual. – H. Granger

She blushed as she quickly printed the last title. Usually, she allowed herself to purchase one book for pleasure after all the serious books were bought...and this book certainly was for pleasure, if word about the dormitory could be believed. She had seen this title on the shelves of the Muggle Literature section of Flourish and Blotts, so she knew that they stocked it, but she would be entirely too shy to buy it in person...and what if her parents were along? No, it had to be done this way. It seemed the timing couldn't be better as well, what with the professor's literary correspondence of the previous evening ... and all the feelings it stirred within her, all the feelings he stirred within her.

She jumped as the wards rang at the entrance to the post office, and the door burst open to admit another patron. Entirely too engrossed in her thoughts over the book order in her hand, she wasn't aware – nor prepared – for the patrons the door had admitted.

"Hermione! What a surprise seeing you here!" Dennis Creevey's voice had this way of needling its way up her spine...and not in a pleasant way.

Her shoulders knotted up with instant tension; a quick remembrance of Dennis painfully kneading her shoulders made her force them back into a more neutral position. Then she realized she was still holding her list ... and what exactly was on that list. Quickly...perhaps a little guiltily...she folded her order to Flourish and Blotts and turned to greet the brothers.

"Hi, Colin, Dennis. I see you were able to transfigure your frog properly." She gave them a faint smile and directed the post office clerk with a nod of her head to an owl on a red shelf.

"Yes, thanks to you, Hermione," Dennis said. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here." She never noticed before how Dennis's eyes didn't move when his head bobbed up and down, much like an old-fashioned bobble-headed doll.

Ridding her head of that disturbing image, she replied, "Oh, well, you were the one who did the transfiguration, Dennis. Don't sell yourself short."

Hermione quickly handed the folded parchment and a Galleon over to the clerk, muttering, "Keep the change." She wanted to get away from the Creevey brothers as soon as possible, before they asked her to...

"You know, I was wondering, Hermione ... would you be able to tutor me in Charms? I'm barely making an Acceptable in that class. My O.W.L.s are next year, you know."

Too late.

Hermione scrutinized Dennis for a moment, wondering if he truly was being serious about studying early for his O.W.L.s...she had done so herself, after all...or if this was just another ploy to get her alone. She decided it was more likely the latter since Dennis had never been very bookish. Not to mention, what red-blooded boy would want to hole himself up with a pile of books, reviewing charms, when he could be out on the Quidditch pitch or hanging with his friends? Unless...

Hermione made a show of taking Dennis's request under serious consideration and then tried to let him down easy by saying, "I'm rather swamped with studying for the N.E.W.T.s myself. You know, Lisa Turpin is tutoring as well. How about I tell her you're interested, and you can talk to her and make arrangements?"

The smiles fell from both Colin's and Dennis's faces simultaneously, which made Hermione feel positively terrible. She almost gave in and said she would tutor Dennis in Charms, but then she thought of what Professor Snape had said, and what he would say if she did in fact give in, and held firm.

"Oh, okay," Dennis said halfheartedly. "I suppose Lisa would be all right. I heard she's getting straight O's." Colin nodded his head in agreement, though neither of them were smiling any longer.

"Yes, she is. She's second in my class, actually. I'll talk to her this weekend for you." Hermione turned to go, eager to flee the scene. "I'll see you boys around, then!" she shouted over her shoulder and left so quickly that the wards at the door didn't even register her presence.

Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. Ever since Professor Snape had told her that Dennis was interested in her, she felt panicked every time Colin or Dennis approached her. It was physically uncomfortable to have a conversation with either one of them. All she could think of was how to let whichever brother it was down without hurting his feelings and getting away as quickly as possible. Having someone interested in you when you were not interested in him was absolutely horrible, and she hated it. She wished there was some way to get rid of Dennis's attention once and for all without actually having to tell him to bugger off...though she most vehemently would have loved to do so, if not for her nagging conscience.

She walked for a few minutes, settling herself down, not yet ready to meet back up with her friends. She was not in the mood for the boys' childishness today for some reason. Finally, she found herself in front of Schrivenshaft's Quill Shop and decided to go inside for some new quill tips and a few reams of parchment. And the best remedy for rattled nerves was, of course, a small treat: Schrivenshaft's Holiday Scented Ink. She gingerly sniffed a few samples and decided on a peppermint-scented and a pine-scented one. It was green, and it made her think of Professor Snape. She imagined writing Potions essays in green ink, the parchment smelling faintly of The Forbidden Forest after it rained.... A smile spread across her face as she added it to her purchase, and all thoughts of the unwanted attentions of Dennis Creevey fled her mind.

In her aimless wandering, she walked into the Three Broomsticks, thinking that perhaps Harry, Ron, and Ginny were there, but failed to see them. She did, however, see Lisa Turpin at a table with a group of her friends, and she remembered that she needed to warn her about Dennis Creevey. That out of the way, Hermione headed out into the street. Her friends were still nowhere in sight.

There was still an hour before they were expected to return to the castle, but she no longer needed to be there, all necessary purchases and errands having been made. She was at a loss. Sighing, she decided to head back to the castle early. It was a balmy day, almost spring-like, which was strange for this time of year. There was snow on the ground, but it was soft and slushy. Testing the slush with a toe of her boot, she figured she should probably renew the charm she had placed on them before she left, which protected the leather from getting wet.

The air was cool and fresh, invigorating. She walked along the path briskly, enjoying how the coolness of the air crisped in her lungs. The walk was turning out to be more enjoyable than she had expected. And she definitely didn't want to waste such a glorious day by going inside an old, stuffy castle. A walk by the lake seemed to be in order, and so she took a little detour on her way to the main entrance. Once there, her attention was taken by the antics of the Giant Squid as it undulated across the surface, its long tentacles reaching and grasping at nothing, or so it always seemed.

"Back so soon, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape's voice interrupted the slap-splashes of the squid-infested waters.

Hermione turned her head to see him standing stoically next to her and nodded her head. "Yes. I made all my purchases and lost track of my friends. There didn't seem to be anything else I wanted to do. I just ... oh, I don't know..." Her voice trailed off.

"Let me guess," the professor said. "You don't know why things that used to interest you don't interest you anymore?"

Her head turned sharply, and she met his eyes. "Yes. Exactly!" she exclaimed. But in her excitement over being understood, she briefly forgot that it was in fact a little upsetting to feel alienated from her friends. "In the past few days, I've been listening to conversations, but I don't feel like I have anything to say. Not that I feel like better than any of them, mind you. I feel ... well, older suddenly, and I just ... well, I guess I never really have, but I don't feel like I fit in anymore."

"Hmm," Professor Snape commented and then fell silent for a moment. "In my seventh year, I felt like that often. And I didn't exactly fit in either."

She watched as his eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners and a ghost of a smile passed across his lips ... just for a second. Yet his posture never faltered. While it was okay for Hermione to see him out of character, it wouldn't do for a passing student to see him that way. She understood, though she would have preferred seeing a little bit more of his true demeanor, especially while he was imparting such intimate details of his life.

Hermione turned back and looked across the lake, noticing that the squid had captured a fish and was tossing it back and forth among its many arms.

"How did you deal with it? You know, with not fitting in?" she asked, wanting to prolong their conversation as long as she could.

"Well, I stayed pretty much to myself," he responded. "There was one boy, a year younger, that I suppose could have been called a friend. We studied together often, and I tutored him before he took his O.W.L.s, but other than that, we didn't do much together. I envy you in a way because at least you have friends."

Hearing him admit that was a little shocking. "I nearly didn't have any friends. The only reason Harry and Ron are my friends is because..."

"Because they saved you from the troll. I know," he answered and gave her a wry grin. "Never think that professors are so daft to believe a first-year who is so eager to admit to wanting to confront a troll. We noticed that you were having difficulty fitting in and let the minor fabrication slide."

Hermione discovered her jaw had fallen open, and she shut it with a snap. "I...well, I...I guess I should thank you then."

"Yes, well, don't thank me too much. It was Minerva's idea. If it were up to me...nothing against you, but letting Mister Potter get away with anything is sort of ... irksome."

She laughed and saw the caustic expression on his face. Any passing student at that moment would have thought he was berating her for her audacity to laugh rather than having a simple get-to-know-you conversation. And in fact, some students were already returning from Hogsmeade, she saw with a brief glance down the path. Sadly, she needed to get to the castle to check in, and he needed to go tend to Slytherin House.

"I really enjoyed talking with you, sir," she said.

"And I, you. Perhaps we can continue to get to know each other better soon," he responded, a tell-tale twinkle in one of his eyes.

Hermione blushed. "I would like that ... very much."

"Good. That's settled then," he said and turned on one heel to take his leave.

Hermione continued to watch him until he had passed the turn on the path and was out of sight.

~~~o o~~~

The Great Hall bustled with pre-holiday excitement. With only three more weeks left to go before Christmas, Professor Dumbledore had the castle decorated while the students were in Hogsmeade. What a wonderful surprise it was to return from holiday shopping to such a festive atmosphere. It breathed new life into the student body, and it had the fortunate effect of making the last remaining days of the term a little easier to bear for both the students and the professors.

Hermione didn't notice any of it, however. She tortured the food on her plate with a fork, poking at it and shuffling it around, unable to eat. All she could think about was the conversation she had had with Professor Snape that afternoon.

As far as conversations went, it wasn't much of one on the grand scale of things. But if one took into account that Professor Snape was a willing participant of said conversation, it made the mind spin. Hermione was literally floating on cloud nine over the fact that Professor Snape had shared so much of himself, a side that no one else...especially a student...rarely saw, if ever.

She was lost amid the din and seemingly forgotten. Harry and Ron were quibbling over their favorite topic...Quidditch, of course. Lavender and Parvati had ambushed Ginny and were sharing their extensive knowledge of Witch Weekly-acquired beauty tips. Dean and Seamus had begun a food fight, complete with minor hexes, and a few of the third-years were joining in. Hermione threw up a Shield Charm and warned the boys to stop, but her voice went unheeded, what with all the cheering and jeering.

Sighing, she gave up and went back to poking at her dinner. It was then that her gaze inadvertently traveled past the head table and caught Professor Snape's for just a moment. He must have been waiting for her to look in his direction, for in that moment, she felt a sensation she had only read about up 'til now.

Smooth as silk, he brushed against the barest edge of her mind ... then slipped out, leaving her feeling slightly off-balance.

The edge of the table against her ribcage was the only thing keeping her equilibrium from spinning off into the charmed ceiling above. That was Legilimency? She'd never before felt someone in her mind; certainly, if it felt like that, she would have remembered. Questioningly, she looked up again at the head table, this time deliberately, and made eye contact.

In all of his stoic expression, one eyebrow rose, and she knew that it was a request. A request for him to enter her mind...a melding of minds. What would she find in his? What would he find in hers? Slightly nervous, she nodded her head ever so slightly in response.

He slid inside, and it was even more intense than before. His fleeting first touch had been like catching a scent on a breeze and being enticed by its flavor. This was like being immersed in the flow of a rushing river and drinking of its essence. She closed her eyes, inviting him in. The fingers of his consciousness reached out to her and caressed the recesses of her mind intimately, drawing out the images of her and him, her with him, her thinking about him.

She saw their first kiss, not too long ago, as he lectured her on how to let a man know she was interested in him:

Show that you are interested in what he has to say. Let your body speak to him instead of your words with the way you sit, the way you tilt your head in his direction, even the way you breathe.

With the image of him bent over her, at a table in the library, his lips gently exploring her own, came the overwhelming feelings that had accompanied that kiss: little thrills of excitement that had found their way into her stomach; a mild perplexity at his advances; eagerness to learn more. But mixed within her own feelings were others, and she realized that his memory of the evening was mixing with her own: slight surprise that she accepted his kiss instead of pushing him away; thrills of excitement that began in his stomach and ended up somewhere down below; an overall, albeit low-key, pervading feeling of ... lust.

It only took a little prodding after the memory of their first kiss to have the images of the night before come spilling forth. They came one right after the other, like a torrent of water no dam could hold. She could see his words upon the parchment and her replies. They were seared forever in her mind. Their effect upon her body she could feel once more. But more than that, she could also feel the effect her words had had upon him.

She could see images of herself...her remembrances...as she accepted the parchments from the house-elf, as she penned quick and impassioned replies. But, just the same, there were images in her mind that were not her own. Suddenly, she realized that she was looking through Professor Snape's eyes as he sat before a fireplace, nursing a drink, reading something ...

How will it be when your lips meet mine in a kiss more passionate than any we have yet shared? How will it be when our bodies join as one and partake in a dance even older than time? How will it be when we quake in each other's arms as we succumb to the pleasures we have slowly cultivated?

The urgency she felt coursing through her veins at that moment was almost unbearable. His urgency was hers. His body was hers. She could feel the hardness, see the hands as they fumbled in their eagerness to release that which ached with need. He needed her. She needed him. Grasping, reaching, thrusting, moaning. Hermione. She felt his release. She knew the pleasure she had given him with only a few words....

He left her mind as easily and as swiftly as he had entered it. The void he left was palpable, an emptiness where once it had been full. She felt an intense need to fill the emptiness with something ... but she knew not what. She nearly cried out for him to return, but refrained with the sudden awareness of her surroundings and that there were others who might hear.

With him, she had felt whole, complete somehow. A convergence of memories, of feelings. She possessed half, as did he, and when they were together, they were complete. Without him there, inside of her, she felt bereft. Her eyes frantically sought his, searching the head table, the Great Hall ... but he had left. And he had left her wanting, needing, aching.

The tension in her body was too much to bear. Definitely too much to keep her sitting, staring at a mangled plate of food. She looked around at her peers and felt alienated, wrong, set apart somehow. What she felt, she was sure none of these boys or girls had felt to such an intensity. Tendrils of want curled their way around inside of her, twisting in her stomach, reaching lower, stretching, pulling.... Putting down her fork, she stood up and dazedly made her way out of the Great Hall.

~

The sound of his determined footfalls ricocheted up and down corridors, lingering. His thoughts mimicked the echoing of his steps, repeating, turning, stumbling over each other. It had been a long time since he had felt so befuddled. He wondered if he should have attempted such a puerile act, performing Legilimency in the Great Hall with all students and professors as witnesses! He must be losing his mind.

But faced with this young woman, who hadn't yet turned away one of these advances, he felt as though every bit of his sanity was abandoning him. Ever since that first kiss, she had occupied his thoughts every waking minute of every hour. All he could think of was where to discreetly meet her next. All he could do was watch her surreptitiously throughout class, look for a glimpse of her in between classes, feast his eyes upon her in the Great Hall....

He had become hopelessly smitten. Every nerve ending was vibrating with their mind-to-mind contact. Every brain cell was thrilling at the discovery that she was as smitten with him as he was with her. His equilibrium was faltering, but he squared his shoulders and pushed on, walking with feverish step, trying to find someplace, anyplace, where he could bring his emotions under control.

~

She walked, and her mind sought; for what she did not know. It reached out in the echoing halls of Hogwarts as her feet climbed stairways, passed under archways, turned corners. Doorways, passageways, portraits, classrooms went by unseen. Her goal: to dispel the physical tension born from the melding of their minds.

Perhaps it was Fate who finally took pity upon her as she passed a certain alcove in a certain dark hallway, far away from any students, any professors, any thought of anything that resembled reality. The desire that filled her mind reached out and pulled her into the darkness, and suddenly, her body was pressed up against something hard, yet yielding; something as dark as the blackness that surrounded her; something that gripped her with a need mirroring her own.

"Shhh...." It was a breath against her hair. Lips pressed against her forehead, her temple, the crest of her ear, just barely ... and hesitated.

This felt real. This was real.

"Hermione." A whisper in the darkness. A request. A request very much like the one that inspired her quest to quench this thirst, that which possessed her feet to bring her here.

And all she could do...all she wanted to do...was press herself against the body, soft yet yielding, hoping beyond hope that he would bring her into the darkness. She tilted her face in the direction she knew those lips would next descend. An invitation. A plea. Desperation.

Her invitation accepted, his lips descended. At first, a soft kiss, designed to tease, to bring her closer. Then his mouth hungrily devoured, lips molding to lips, a perfect fit. Seeking, encouraging, needing more. They desperately sought what the other readily gave. Breath hot against the other's lips, jaw, ear, neck. More.

Chaste, his hands roamed. Robes smoothed over her curves. Feeling those curves. His hands hot, wanting to feel the softness of her skin. His desire burned to delve beneath the folds of her clothing, but yet he held back.

That didn't stop her from exploring. From the silk at the nape of his neck, past the starch of his collar, down the plethora of black pearl buttons, playing under her fingers like the keys of a piano. She could almost hear the glissando as her fingers traveled down, down, down the front of his frock coat, ending at the top of ...

She couldn't help herself. Her fingers splayed over his rigidness, over the rough cloth of his trousers, pushing down just as roughly with the heel of her palm as he feasted upon her neck, nibbling his way to her ear.

"Yesssss."

He urged her on, placing his own hand over hers, guiding her palm down, then up, encouraging her fingers to grasp as much as she could through the thick material. Thrusting. He kissed her fiercefully, and she responded breathlessly. Her body literally throbbed with the intensity of her desire, with pure wonder at what was happening between them.

His breath came in shorter bursts against her lips, and her instincts led her on ... leading her to the inevitable. She pushed harder, more urgently, against him. He kissed her harder, frantically: hard, fierce, teeth nipping, breath staccatoing, hips thrusting.

The excitement of it drew her upward. Her body coiled tighter underneath his lips, his hands, his entire body. A whimper escaped her lips as she felt his impending climax draw near. She could almost swear he was in her mind once more, the connection between their bodies was so great. Swiftly, the tension she had been feeling focused into a single knot. She could feel the pressure building ... Oh, gods.

The moment he found his release, she could feel the pulsations against her palm, the warmth, the ease with which cloth moved between their flesh. At that moment...that sweet moment...she felt her body emulate his, the tension finally breaking, her body throbbing in time with his spent desire.

Their kisses slowed, their breathing calmed, and finally they relaxed in each other's arms, standing in a small alcove in a remote, dark hallway of the castle. Far away from prying eyes. Far away from students, from professors, from reality....

~ End Lesson Five ~