Chapter Ten

Disclaimer:It all belongs to JKR.

A/N: My thanks to Shug for her beta work and enthusiastic support.

*

Present

"He stuck you with the bill?" Rose asked incredulously.

Hermione nodded with an amused smile.

Rose leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "That's not very gentleman-like."

"There's your mistake, Rose – you think that he should have been one."

"Well, shouldn't he?" Rose asked, indignant. "He's a bit too forward with you at the Symposium, makes you pass out, and then proceeds to invite you to dinner only to trick you out of asking questions and leave you with the bill!"

Hermione chuckled. "A succinct summary of events, yes."

"And you weren't upset at it or offended?" Rose scoffed. "You were falling for him already." She reached for her wine.

"Careful there, Rose," her mother warned, raising an amused eyebrow. "You may get ahead of yourself."

The two women sat in silence.

"Why did you add the bit with him seeing you at the Uffizi?" Rose asked, eyes downcast, holding her wine. "You said you didn't see him in the market. How did you know he was watching you?"

Hermione inhaled and set her chin on her clasped hands. "He told me later on."

"Later on?" Rose asked, sighing. "So you did see him again."

Hermione laughed. "Of course I did, though it was quite a while after Florence. So long so that I almost forgot him."

"You could never forget him," Rose murmured, not noticing her mother's eyes glaze over. "So when did you see him next? You left off... when?"

"Florence was in..." Hermione tapped her fingers against the table in consternation. "November of 2000. Almost two and a half years after Voldemort's downfall. I didn't see him again until after the three year anniversary."

"June or July of 2001," Rose said, mentally adding the timetable in her head.

"July of 2001, yes." Hermione sighed. "I found his apothecary in Paris and tried to visit on several occasions after Florence. Curiously, he was never there."

"He was avoiding you," Rose said, a smile creeping across her face. She did not want to like this man, but he was a fascinating character, she had to give him that.

"He wanted to see me on his own terms, the bastard," Hermione interjected.

Rose laughed. "Two can play that game, Mum."

Hermione grinned. "Indeed they can."

"So where did you end up reuniting?"

Hermione sipped her wine. "Amsterdam. We met again in Amsterdam."

*

Amsterdam, July 2001

"Cosette Bedard, if you are not dressed and ready in the next thirty seconds, I am leaving you here, the conference be damned!" Hermione exclaimed, shifting in her chair and crossing and uncrossing her legs. She was not comfortable – the hotel room she and her friend were renting for a cheap price consequently came with cheap, brutally uncomfortable furniture. She smoothed her skirt and stretched out her legs, admiring her freshly painted toe nails. Cosette had taken her for her first pedicure, and while she was not likely to repeat the experience, it had proved most pleasurable.

She had asked her friend repeatedly why they were out shopping and getting pedicures when Henri was in town, to which Cosette had replied that Henri was in meetings with "busy and important" Ministry officials and that they were on a much-deserved, if rather short, vacation.

That was a lovely thing about their work, Hermione thought – she and Cosette, quite frankly, worked their arses off for Pierre, and truth be told, brought in quite a bit of money. It also bore noting that they were his favorite lunch companions. As such, he was more than willing to give them a Friday off here and there to travel, shop, and as the occasion arose, go to conferences where Henri presented his remarkably groundbreaking, still semi-illegal research. Pierre enjoyed accompanying them to such conferences and had expressed his regret that he could not attend this one. He had particularly lamented that he could not visit Amsterdam and had spoke fondly of its "superb extra-curricular activities," confirming Hermione's suspicion that the man had gorged himself on drugs and whores in his younger days.

"Ah, you're still here," Cosette said, finally emerging from the bathroom in a dress that could only just past for appropriate attire at a professional conference.

Hermione looked at her friend reproachfully. "More cling-film?"

"Merlin, Hermione, I don't look like I belong on a street corner."

"Yet," Hermione muttered under her breath. "This is Amsterdam, Cosette," she said a bit louder. "I've never seen so many prostitutes and open drug addicts in my life."

Cosette snorted. "This is one of the few cities that actually lives up to its bad reputation."

"It's even in the wizarding part of the city," Hermione said, surprised.

"We can't all be British," Cosette snorted.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked indignantly.

"You have one of the smallest wizarding populations in the world, and you're one of the most insular, prudish societies, at least by reputation. I have never heard of a whorehouse in wizarding Britain."

"Knockturn Alley," Hermione said automatically. "I'm sure we have our fair share." Not that I've ever seen one.

Cosette shrugged. "You're prudes. No matter, though. The prostitutes are easy enough to avoid. Oh, I was going to tell you earlier, be careful where you walk. Illegal substances are brewed and smoked in public on occasion, some of which should not be inhaled."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Don't inhale the thick, all-encompassing smoke coming off every alleyway. I'll try."

Cosette nodded. "Do. And my dress is not inappropriate, for the record. Besides, I'm wearing a jacket over it."

"And you say you come here to support your significant other." Hermione shook her head. "He probably thinks you're sent by the Fates to tempt his powers of concentration."

The two women walked to the door, Cosette grinning the entire time.

"It amuses you, don't lie," she insisted as they walked out of the room and down the corridor.

Hermione inhaled theatrically. "I love you enough to put up with it," was the response that sent Cosette into gales of laughter.

"Come on, then," Cosette said, approaching the Apparition point. "Let's go. This should be fun."

"It's always fun to watch Henri convince people that he's not breaking the law," Hermione muttered, and the two women Apparated away.

*

Ballroom C, Vrije Universiteit

Hermione entered the relatively small but elegantly crafted ballroom behind Cosette, looking around as she did so. There were about fifty people mulling about in the room, fresh off the previous presentation. The room was, interestingly, divided between European Ministry bureaucrats, various academics, and a few members of the local wizarding press. She sat in the third row as her friend went off to talk to someone or other and checked her watch. Ten minutes to one.

At five minutes to one, the crowd began to dissipate and sit in their respective seats. About time, Hermione thought. She came to conferences to learn and listen to fascinating research, not to socialize, which was, ironically, exactly the reason Cosette attended. That and, of course, the fact that her significant other was presenting, although at present Cosette was working the room.

"Bonjour," a voice said from behind Hermione. She turned, startled, to see Henri smiling down at her, his hand extended.

"Henri," she said, visibly relieved, and shook his hand. "You startled me a bit. How are you?"

"I am well. It is good to see you again so soon. I enjoyed breakfast this morning." He grinned wickedly.

Hermione laughed. They had got into a bit of a friendly row over the legality of some of his research. Both had enjoyed the debate, if only to watch Cosette's reactions.

"Well, we must do it again sometime," she said, only to be interrupted by the unexpected sight of Severus Snape walking down the aisle.

That man...

An urgent desire to throttle him rose in her, and she was sure that she was flushing a furious red by the time Severus extended his hand to Henri.

"Severus! It is good to see you," Henri said, clasping hands with the Potions Master.

What...

Hermione's stomach flip-flopped. He looked rather dashing, dressed as he was in black trousers and a black button-down. His hair was pulled back with a black ribbon. Well, isn't he approachable? Screw it.

"Severus –" she tried to interrupt.

"I'm looking forward to your presentation, which, if I'm not mistaken is about to start," Severus said, maintaining eye contact with Henri, completely ignoring the anxious girl sitting directly in front of him.

Henri chuckled. "I'd best get up there, shouldn't I?"

Severus nodded. "It would be advisable."

"Well," Henri said, walking out into the aisle to go up to the podium, "I look forward to debating legality issues over our next meeting. I had a debate of a similar nature this morning. You should talk to Hermione about it," he said, nodding in Hermione's direction before climbing the steps to the stage.

Hermione flushed, and she looked back at Severus, only to see him walking by her without a care for her existence. He proceeded to take a seat directly across the aisle from her.

"Friends and colleagues..." Henri lifted his hands and began speaking from the podium.

Hermione slumped back in her seat as she felt Cosette slip in beside her.

"Is that Severus Snape sitting there?" Cosette asked with a wink at her friend. "Talked to him yet?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, her chin high.

Damn the man. Goddamn the man.

*

Henri had been speaking for ten minutes. She was trying to pay attention to his presentation, she really was, but she was finding it difficult to not pay attention to the fact that Severus Snape was sitting across the aisle from her, taking notes in a small notebook, earnestly listening to Henri's animated lecture, looking entirely too dashing and smelling too sexy for his own good.

Sexy?

Bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

He smelled like pine, or at least that's what she thought he smelled like – it wasn't quite pine but something herbal, she just wasn't sure what. It was too damn frustrating, and she was entirely unsettled by the fact that pine reminded her of freshly grown grass. She had no idea why, but it was unnerving all the same.

She'd gone to his apothecary immediately upon returning from Florence and had been quite impressed with its size and services. She'd encountered staff each time she went, and she'd surmised that Snape kept four or five part-time employees. At least two were university students, she'd learned, and all had been quite knowledgeable and personable. Helpfulness was clearly a quality he valued in his employees, if not in himself.

The apothecary was called L'Purgatorium. It was in a tucked away, off-the-beaten-path location, on a street darker than most but still busy enough to keep the shops in the black. The apothecary's large success was probably due to its reputation, Hermione was sure. She'd attempted to discreetly ask around about the shop and had always received favorable feedback – that the variety of potions sold was impressive, that the potions themselves were of the highest quality and that the rates were reasonable. The shop was far more successful than its appearance bespoke. If the shop's outward façade was dark, the inside was little better – it was almost militaristic in style, with rows of dark oak tables lining the entirety of the shop floor, and at least four or five shelves lining the walls, all filled to the brink with jars, tubs, and boxes chock full of potions and ingredients. Candles provided the only lighting, and Hermione was relatively certain that there was a storeroom and laboratory in the back.

On her third visit, she'd worked up the courage to ask an employee if the owner was available. The young man had been quite surprised – clearly he didn't field such questions on a regular basis – and had stuttered a bit of nonsense, all of which amounted to his stating that the owner was rarely in town, which was a load of bollocks, Hermione knew, as Severus had told Viktor that he divided his time between Paris and Capois. Theoretically, he'd only be in Paris three or four days a week, or every other week, but not 'rarely.'

After her fifth visit, she'd ceased trying and had retreated back into life as usual: long workdays, intriguing if entirely exhausting projects, and the occasional lunch or dinner with Pierre or Cosette, sometimes with both, and sometimes with Cosette and Henri. She still didn't have many friends in Paris, but she could hardly say she minded. She'd felt practically stifled in Britain, where she knew or recognized almost every witch and wizard in Diagon Alley, and the anonymity Paris provided was a heady relief. She sought solace and relaxation in her books, and she frequently scoured Potions and Arithmancy journals to keep up on her academic reading.

She inhaled another whiff of pine, and the heat that ripped through her belly brought her crashing back down to earth.

The man she'd been looking for – again – was now sitting across from her, and anger and frustration were, at present, overtaking joy and jubilee. She'd been excited in Florence when he had said they would see each other again; she was now frustrated at his ignoring her. Games, all games.

Men, she thought and leaned back in her chair, vainly attempting to listen to Henri.

She snuck a glance across the aisle, only to find Severus watching her, a smirk spreading across his face as he turned back to Henri.

The heat spread again.

Stop it!

She was definitely going to corner him after.

*

Henri's presentation ended soon enough, and Hermione got up instantly.

"Excuse me, I have a few fish to fry," she muttered under her breath to Cosette, who chortled.

"Your former professor, I presume?" she asked.

Hermione nodded and picked up her purse from under the seat.

"You'd better get a move on, he's already leaving," Cosette said, nodding in Severus' direction.

Hermione whipped around only to see his back as he moved quickly down the aisle. She jogged to catch up with him and tapped him, perhaps a bit too hard, on the shoulder.

"What?" he growled, turning around. "Oh," he said, his features only just softening. "You." He turned around and started to walk, leaving her a bit shell-shocked in the aisle. She quickly recovered.

"Severus Snape, you get over here this instant!" she hissed under her breath, ignoring the curious glances of on-lookers.

He looked back at her, amused, and kept walking. "Miss Granger. What a pleasant surprise."

"Call me Hermione. And walk slower, I can't keep up with you."

He increased his pace. "My apologies, Miss Granger."

She inhaled sharply. "You called me Hermione before."

"Oh, did I? When?"

"In Florence, you sanctimonious bastard! You also stuck me with the check. You owe me," she said as they walked out into the brilliantly lit lobby.

He finally stopped walking and looked down at her, feigning shock. "Why on earth do I owe you?"

She poked him in the chest. "You invited me out to dinner and then left me with the fucking bill, as you damn well know."

"Tut-tut. Language, Miss Granger," he said sardonically and resumed walking.

"I am not a silly schoolgirl who is yours to command! Get back here!" she demanded.

He pushed the entrance doors open and walked out into the sunlight.

"Severus!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the ruckus they were causing. She groaned loudly and walked out the door, looking both ways in a vain attempt to spot him, but he had already disappeared.

That was just like him. Damn it!

"Gah!" she exclaimed loudly. She picked a direction and started walking.

She strode down the street angrily, turning down various roads in an attempt to walk off her aggression and got herself quite lost in the process, as she found out three minutes later when she bothered to stop and actually examine her surroundings.

She had run into an industrial district, by the looks of things, and she couldn't tell whether it was Muggle or wizard. She shrunk her wand and held it in her hand, tucked against her palm and the back of her wrist. She turned around and quickly began to walk back the way she had come when blue smoke and sparks suddenly burst from the alley she was passing. She inhaled it sharply, through both her nostrils and her mouth, and was overcome by its burning sensation – not a hot tingle but a searing fire that ripped through her body with a force that slowly dissipated. She swayed on her feet and zig-zagged across the pavement, reaching out a hand to steady herself against a brick building. Her vision was spotted, and her head felt completely light, unattached, and she thought for a moment she might be having an out-of-body experience.

She sagged against the wall, falling helplessly. She heard someone call her name before she slumped and lost all consciousness.

*

She awoke to the smell of basil and garlic assaulting her nostrils. Her senses went on high alert; she was not in her bed, as evidenced by the ridiculously firm padding she felt beneath her. She peeked an eye open. The sofa she was sprawled out on was sage colored, and it felt like a rock cloaked in satin.

She didn't have a sofa that felt like a rock or like satin, for that matter.

She sat up abruptly, blood going to her head in a dizzying rush. She clasped the sofa's edge to steady herself.

Foolish girl, she thought. Where the hell am I?

She gently reached into her pocket to make sure her wand was there. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when she felt its familiar shape.

"Ah, you're awake. Will you kindly come in to eat supper before passing out on the sofa again?" an all-too familiar voice sounded from the doorway.

She looked over sharply, only to see the object of her obsession leaning against the threshold, looking different than she remembered. He was at ease... and in a white shirt.

"You changed your shirt," she said weakly.

"You drooled."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "What happened?"

"You fainted in the alleyway when I finally caught up to you. I could hardly leave a young woman passed out on a street in Amsterdam," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

She nodded imperceptibly, trying to get a hold of her surroundings. Oak floor, sage sofa, smells of dinner cooking in the kitchen. Bookshelves lined the wall; stacks of books were splayed across the floor. There were paintings on the wall. The fireplace was lit. Dark browns, sage greens, and rich blues were the dominating colors. And there was a faint smell of pine musk in the air.

"So... this is your flat?" she asked slowly.

"Yes. In Paris," he offered. "You're back in France. Now," he started. "Would you care for some supper? Grilled shrimp over linguini with garlic bread and a nice Chianti to accompany." He held a hand out towards her. "Can you get up from the sofa yourself or do you need me to assist you?"

She shook her head. "I can get up."

She attempted to rise to her feet but fell back on the couch quickly. He raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said loudly and pushed herself up onto her feet, quickly moving across the room, passing him in the doorway into what she sincerely hoped was the kitchen.

Considering that she was met by the overwhelming smell and sight of a gorgeous Italian dinner, oak dining furnishings, and onyx-colored appliances, it was safe to say that this room was indeed the kitchen.

"Please, take a seat," he said, an amused look on his face as he pulled her chair out for her.

"Such chivalry," she said, snorting.

"Well, you keep fainting in my arms, Hermione, so tell me what I'm supposed to resort to," he said, ignoring the bite in her tone as he sat and reached for a piece of garlic bread. "The meal should be a familiar one."

She snorted, recognizing the Florentine meal, down to the bottle of Chianti Rufina. "A man of diverse tastes, I see."

He shrugged. "I work with what's best."

"You don't experiment?" she asked, spinning her fork in the linguini.

"Not when I have guests as prickly as you, no," he said firmly.

"Prickly, am I?" she asked, her mouth full of delicious pasta.

"Irritating would be a better word. Chew with your mouth closed."

She glared at him as she finished chewing.

"Screw you."

He laughed. "You've quite a mouth on you."

"I spent my adolescence surrounded by teenage boys, and my father was in the military before he went to dental school. I'm accustomed to it, is all," she said, explaining far more than she needed to, likely because she was nervous, uncomfortable, and extremely turned on. The white shirt was a bit small on him, leaving little of his musculature to the imagination. It was most unfortunate when one was trying to concentrate.

Silence descended on the table.

"You inhaled a slightly toxic, extremely powerful hallucinogen," he said abruptly. "A mix of Muggle and wizarding chemicals. Any more and there may have been damage to your nervous system." He didn't look at her as he cut his pasta into tiny bits on his plate.

Hermione halted her fork midway to her mouth and set it down on the plate. Her hands shook a little. "Thank you," she said quietly, bringing her hands to her face. Oh God. "Cosette warned me not to inhale anything. I'm so stupid," she said, mentally berating herself.

"You couldn't have helped but inhale the smoke. It happened too quickly," he said.

"You..." She shook her head. "You saw it happen?"

He finally set his fork and knife down and met her eyes for the first time. Hermione could have sworn she saw regret in them. "I... followed you as you left Vrije. I thought to sport with you." He looked straight at her. "I am sorry."

Hermione nodded. "I assume you gave me drugs to stop..."

He nodded. "I've worked with similar antidotes before."

"Henri," she said, wagering a guess, and he nodded. "Well, at least his work is good for something."

"It's good for a great many things," Severus said in an amused tone.

Hermione tilted her head and grinned. "Are we going to debate this, Severus?"

He chuckled and picked up a second piece of garlic bread. "If you like."

"I would like that very much." She smiled up at him, really looking into his eyes for the first time. They stared at each other for a moment before he broke away.

"What arguments do you have for me, mademoiselle? I am willing to hear," he said, sipping his wine.

Hermione grinned and began the relentless volley of questions.

*

A few hours later

Severus and Hermione were seated in armchairs opposite each other in the front room – the sitting room, Hermione supposed it was, though she was sure Severus did not have a proper name for it. The room hardly resembled a formal thing at all, covered as it was in books – not that she minded. She rather enjoyed the compulsively arranged book stacks, as well as the method to the madness – indeed, even the bookshelves were all sorted by genre and author.

They were now reading in a rather companionable silence; they had debated ad nauseum for several hours, the food on their plates growing cold as the subjects deepened and the tempers heightened. Severus had finally ended with a Jade's trick, insisting that he was quite finished with the nonsense, and Hermione had sat back and sighed, curiously content. Now, curled up in an armchair, she felt rather like a cat. A purr would certainly be in character, for she could not remember feeling so pleased, at ease, and genuinely at peace in another's company in quite a long while.

She'd put on a pot of coffee, and they were now drinking from their respective mugs as Severus perused the newspaper, his reading spectacles firmly situated on his nose, and Hermione was attempting to read a potions journal, though her progress was hindered by the glances she kept sneaking at the distinguished, magnetic man currently sitting a mere two feet away from her. She wondered...

She shook her head and glanced at the mantle clock above the fireplace.

"Oh no," she said, her body stilled.

"What is it?" he asked, a bit perturbed, looking up from his paper.

"It's almost seven-thirty!" she exclaimed, hastily climbing out of the chair. "Cosette doesn't know where I've been," she murmured in realization.

Severus looked a bit frozen in his chair as she scrambled to find her shoes. "I'm sorry," she said, looking back at him over her shoulder. "It's been such a lovely evening..."

"Yes, it has," he said slowly. He set his newspaper on the wing table and stood, stretching his arms above his head, his shirt lifting up above his hips. Hermione couldn't help but notice the black trail of hair contrasted against his pale skin anymore than she could the taut muscles, seemingly pulled across his skeletal frame. It was a strangely arousing sight. Not so strange, really, she thought.

She blushed when she noticed that he was shamelessly staring at her as she rather wantonly stared at him. She quickly averted her gaze. "I'm sorry, Severus, I didn't mean..."

"Oh, yes you did," he said, amusement clear in his voice.

Damn. Well, he would think it was funny, an ex-student ogling him and all.

"Try to guard your thoughts more, Hermione, particularly when you're around me," he said with a smirk.

"Right then," she said, quickly righting her clothes and picking up her clutch. "I'll be off."

He strode over to her quickly, standing a mere foot away from her. "When can I see you again?" he asked, his voice low, his black eyes boring into hers.

"Umm..." she squeaked. "Coffee next week?"

He let a rare hint of a smile touch his lips and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I'll send word."

"Okay," she whispered, backing away. "I should go now..."

"Yes," he said, his demeanor stiffening a bit; almost as if he were trying to... regain control. "Yes, you should."

She barely managed a "goodbye" before walking out the door and Apparating back to the cheap hotel in Amsterdam, where she proceeded to squeal and jump around with great vigor and enthusiasm, hardly noticing an amused and very relieved Cosette and Henri standing in the doorway.

*

A/N: There are three lines I can't entirely take credit for. The "busy and important" line is shamelessly pulled from Love Actually, Hermione's thought "Damn the man, goddamn the man" is inspired by Thomas Jefferson's line in the musical 1776, and the concept of a "Jade's trick" I pulled from William Shakespeare, specifically citing the incomparable "Much Ado About Nothing," which I recently saw for the umpteenth time.

I hope you all enjoyed it. I can't say how much time it'll take for another update - I have a few papers due over the next few weeks - but I'll do my best to get the next installment out in a timely fashion. *squishes you all*