An Eventful Day

Disclaimer: see first chapter.

Thanks to Dacian Goddess for betaing this story.

Hermione was breathless when she reached Dumbledore, who was waiting for her in the Entrance Hall. He greeted her with warmth, and his eyes held his famous and comforting twinkling.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. It's such a pleasure to see you again within these walls."

She was still panting when she answered him. "Thank you, Professor. I'm so glad to be able to come back here, if only for a day."

"Miss Granger! I can't express how delighted I am to see you!" Hermione turned around only to find herself hugged by Professor McGonagall. The few students who were loitering in the Hall were looking at them and quietly whispering among themselves.

"Not more delighted than I am, Professor." She glimpsed the hourglasses beyond her tartan-clad ex-Head of House's shoulder. Gryffindor was leading, and the thought cheered her.

She followed her elders in the Great Hall where her lecture would take place. She glanced fondly at the enchanted ceiling, which showed the clear blue sky littered with sparse, white clouds. She noticed the House tables were turned so that the students would be able to look at her without straining their necks.

"You will give your lecture five times, Miss Granger," McGonagall explained to her. "The first group will comprise the first- and second-years. None of them have seen the battle, so they are less susceptible to be seduced by the artificial paradises. However, we fear that they might follow the older students' habits. The next group will be the third- and fourth-years. After lunch, you will have the fifth-, sixth- and seventh-years. We thought it would be best if you talked to the upper years separately. They're older students, and some of them have already tried those drugs. We felt that they would need more time."

Hermione nodded her understanding. She climbed on the dais, laid her parchments on the table in front of her, made sure she had all the pictures she intended to show...gruesome, horrible moving pictures, which reminded her of the ones Professor Snape had displayed in his Defence classroom...in order to keep the young from even thinking of the drugs' reputation as fun. She finished her preparations under the benevolent eyes of Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"I'm ready to begin," she said to the Headmaster and his Deputy. Dumbledore waved his hand. The doors opened, and the first- and second-years entered. They seemed a bit curious and nervous, bumping into each other and giggling behind their hands. They sat down on the benches and watched her expectantly.

Hermione straightened her spine and began her lecture.

Severus arrived at the pharmacy without a hitch and on time.

"Granger, stop staring and get to work!"

Severus didn't even have time to close the door when the pharmacy manager barked his order at him. Not answering, courtesy of the Calming Draught, he found the daily delivery in the back of the shop and set about to shelve it. He didn't work as fast as Hermione because he had to be careful to move like her, to perfectly imitate her gestures and facial expressions. What's most, the difference in height was making it more difficult than it should have been.

"What got into you today, Granger? You act like a sleepwalker."

He pasted a pained expression on his face.

"Sorry, sir. I was sick yesterday, and I didn't sleep much."

The manager didn't show any concern. Instead, he showed his disliking of the woman by asking her not to vomit all over the place. Perhaps Severus should have taken two doses of Calming Draught. He'd seen Hermione at work; he knew she was efficient. In fact, he wondered if the manager's attitude wasn't the translation of his fear of being outsmarted by a young woman barely out of school.

When he finished stacking the medicines, he went to help the customers. He met there the same kind of daft people he would have met in the Apothecary, the only difference being these Muggles would never dream asking for Acromantula venom, bubotuber pus, or horned slugs. Instead, they asked for paracetamol, vitamins and various suppositories.

In his estimation, Severus was managing well. He hardly made any mistakes, and a bit of training on Hermione's computer had given him confidence in using the cash register. He might have mixed up the categories a bit, like registering the phloroglucinol with the herbs, but nothing too obvious.

He had been at a bit of a loss when a customer suffering from a severe facial tic had asked for, "You know, baby? The big ones with the banana taste." Which medicine tasted of banana? Or did the man want banana perfumed herbal tea? "No, baby. I want," the man checked that nobody was behind him and winked at him meaningfully, "condoms. The biggest size." He finished his sentence in a whisper, leaning toward Severus-as-Hermione over the counter and winking so much that his blue eye looked like a forgery of Dumbledore's twinkle. What's more, being the recipient of a saucy wink from some one he didn't know from Adam provoked a corresponding twitching of Severus' hand in direction of his wand.

The jerk was saved at the last minute by John, one of Hermione's colleagues. "Freddy, Hermione has already told you she wasn't interested. Besides, you're disturbing the other customers. Either you pay for what you came here for, or you go away." Nobody wanted to face John's displeasure: the man was a boxing champion outside of work. Freddy left as quickly as he could without giving the impression of running.

Severus was glad, very glad, when the time came to go back to Hogwarts. His limbs ached from moving and stacking and shelving so many boxes. Thank the gods, he was accustomed to standing for hours, as was his temporary body. In fact, he'd been so taken with the happenings of the day that he'd forgotten about the experiment. The logical conclusion was that the potion had worked perfectly.

Hermione collapsed on a chair as soon as the last student left the Great Hall. She would never have thought that explaining the same thing five times in the same day could be that exhausting. Merlin! What had Dumbledore been thinking? At least, the students had seemed interested enough. She had strived to hammer in their psyche that Muggle drugs were destructive. Wizards often had a hard time comprehending that not all Muggle things were inoffensive. Well, Hogwarts students certainly shouldn't have any more illusions on the matter after seeing those horrible pictures of drug addicts' internal organs. She smirked when she remembered how some of the older ones who had fought against the Death Eaters two years ago, had blanched at the sight of an emaciated drug-addict whose arms and thighs had been blue, purple, yellow with bruises.

She was folding her parchments and pictures when Dumbledore and McGonagall entered the Hall.

"I trust everything went well?" the Headmaster asked, curiosity seeping from his voice.

"I think it went well indeed. I don't know if it'll be sufficient to keep all of them away from drugs, but I hope I've reached through to some of them. You told me there had been five overdoses last year. I'm afraid a number of students are already on this path among the fifth- and seventh-years. I've noticed a very thin boy who looked particularly drawn. He did nothing else other than feverishly scratch his arms. Some others were incredibly restless as well."

"I'm afraid I've noticed them too, as have all Head of Houses."

"I've given them the names of the Healers at St Mungo's who are trained in the follow-up care of drug addicts. Oh, and I nearly forgot; I've got a few leaflets from St Mungo's for the teachers and Madam Pomfrey as well."

"Miss Granger, I knew you'd be perfect for the job." McGonagall's voice was full of pride.

The two professors invited her to remain for dinner. She took the opportunity to catch up with the school gossip and noticed one of the teachers was missing. She surmised he'd rather appear in public in his own skin.

After dinner, she made a beeline for the dungeons. Severus had told her where to find his quarters, and she was dying to know how his day had been...that is, if the potion had worked and if he'd managed not to get her sacked. He showed her in as soon as she'd knocked at the door, careful to stay behind the door. It wouldn't do if someone saw two Hermione Grangers in the Defence teacher's private rooms.

The two of them stood and gazed at each other for several minutes. If one went past the Snape-like posture and frowning, no one would doubt being in the company of Miss Hermione Granger. She had been too stressed that morning to notice, but now, it unnerved her.

"How did it go?" she asked when the silence became unbearable.

"It went well. The potion hasn't given any signs of wearing off so far. If my calculations are correct, it should wear off in about two hours."

Only then did he invite her to take a seat in one of the burgundy velvet armchairs near the fireplace. "I have felt no sickness or nausea, though I did lie to your boss to explain your unusual slowness. He's under the impression that you'd been sick last night."

"So, I still have a job," she teased.

He smirked. "I believe so. I was even rescued by a knight in white coat when one of the customers tried to make a pass at me."

She burst out laughing. "Of all the days, Freddy chose to visit the pharmacy today! I guess John was the one who came to your help?"

So, what had happened today was a regular occurrence. "Indeed."

"John has been trying to convince me to get out with him for months; and for months, I've been turning him down."

"A pity. I've accepted an invitation for dinner tomorrow evening on your behalf," he said, deadpan.

She blanched, then turned red. "You didn't? Oh no, you didn't? Tell me it's a joke." She sounded desperate.

He smiled maliciously. "I thought you'd be grateful."

Less than a second later, he was staring cross-eyed at the tip of a wand that would have poked at his nose, had he been sporting his own face at the moment. Damn, he hadn't known that the girl was so sensitive to the subject. He back-pedalled as gracefully as he could without his voice. "Right, right, it's a joke. I am aware that he isn't your type."

She put her wand back in her sleeve and casually asked, "Do you have any idea of what my type would be?"

The conversation was treading dangerous, slippery grounds. Last time he'd heard this question, he'd been the one to utter it. He'd been trying to chat up some woman in hope of a one-time shag...which he had got; and he had nothing against repeating the experience. He'd carefully scanned Hermione's body the evening before. Oh, he'd not breached his promise; he hadn't touched more than what was necessary for hygiene purposes, but he'd looked, and he'd liked what he'd seen: firm breast, rosy nipples, enough roundness to her stomach to make her look like a woman, rounded hips and buttocks. He hadn't exactly ignored the other parts to her body, of course, but these were the ones he had more thoroughly observed. No, he wasn't adverse at all to a shag with Hermione Granger, but he'd rather do it while in his masculine form. Finally, he answered, "I certainly don't know you enough to thoroughly answer your question, Hermione, but I would think that intelligent conversation and human warmth would be in your criteria."

However unsettling it was for her to speak to her likeliness, Hermione laughed heartily. "You're speaking like the horoscope: not very specific and broad enough to be true for most of the people who listen to it."

Against his better judgment, Severus' lips twitched and sketched a smile on his...presently Hermione's...features. "I should have known that you would see through it."

She smiled warmly at him, and he felt liquid soaking his knickers. He glanced at the clock: still one hour and a half to go before the dampness would be replaced by rigidity. But he didn't know the meaning of mortification until he squirmed. He realised his body was seeking to create friction on his clitoris; he blushed.

"Are you unwell?" Hermione asked with concern, leaning forward slightly. "Is it a side-effect of the potion?"

Severus took in her kind face, highlighted by the fire of the torches on the stone walls and in the hearth, the golden hues of her hair, and her breast which he could peek at through the gap of her décolleté. He now felt as if he'd wet himself...it was worse than being restrained in one's trousers. "In a way, it is," he managed to say steadily enough.

He felt warm, very warm. He wanted nothing more than to touch his hardening nipples and to plunge a hand down his knickers. He tried not to squirm anymore, but couldn't help squeezing the muscles of his lower belly.

"Severus? You don't look well. I'll fetch Madam Pomfrey. It seems that the reversing process isn't without consequences."

He caught her wrist before she could stand completely.

"Don't. It will pass, I am sure."

He was touching her, and it was distracting. "Now, while we share a cup of tea, you can tell me more about your project to become a lawyer, Hermione."

Hermione launched into an extensive explanation of her plans of becoming the first professional lawyer of the wizarding world. "You see, when someone has to face the Wizengamot, they can have someone with them to help, but they're not professional. Too often, people are tried and sentenced without a proper defence, especially if they don't have any influential friends who can vouch for them."

It reminded Severus of his own trial decades ago, when Dumbledore's protection had been the only thing that had guarded him from a stint in Azkaban. "I think this idea of yours is a very sensible one."

She beamed at the unexpected compliment. "Thank you, Severus. It means a lot to me."

Suddenly, he felt his body shifting. He put his cup down on the coffee table. "I'd better go into my bedroom and take your clothes off before they are torn. I'll be back momentarily."

She watched him retreat through a heavy-looking, wooden door. Five minutes later, he was back, clad in black robe. That reminded her that she was still wearing her own dark blue robe over her Muggle clothing. He handed her a bag. "Your clothes."

She stood. "Thanks. Well, erm, you look well, and it's getting late, and ..."

"I know for a fact that you don't work tomorrow. If you don't mind, I'd like to carry on our conversation." And possibly get laid.

She cast him an uncertain glance, but nonetheless sat down. "Sure." Was it her imagination or was Severus' armchair closer to her own than before? "Do you plan on marketing your potion?"

It was his turn to lose himself in a thorough account of his research. "You'll understand better if I show you." He strode to another door, one that led to his laboratory she supposed, and returned with a heavy book. "I have compiled my research in it," he said. He stood in front of her, a pensive air on his face, as if he was considering something. "Would you mind if I Transfigured the armchairs into one sofa? It will be easier to read my notes together that way."

She nodded, but didn't miss his air of satisfaction. What was he up to? Was it necessary for him to sit that near to her to skim through his notes? Oh, oh ... she realised what he was doing: he was seducing her. Oooooooh, when he had felt faint a little while ago, he'd been feeling desire. She now recognised the signs. What to do with this knowledge? She peered at him sidewise through her lashes to assess him. She'd got past his disagreeable face during her meetings with him. His body showed no sign of excessive weight, though she suspected him to have a bit of fat on his belly, like any man his age. Severus wasn't known for being a great practitioner of sports after all.

He was interested and interesting. And she could do with a shag after a day-long with noisy teenagers. She edged closer to him so that their thighs were inevitably in contact. He caught on the manoeuvre at once: his hand crept onto her knee. It lay still while he turned a page none of them was really reading, before it bunched the fabric of Hermione's robe in its grip. She closed the book and put it on the coffee table in front of them.

He pounced. One moment she was leaning over the coffee table, the next moment she was lying on her back on the sofa, Severus was on her, frantically kissing her mouth and the area around. He slipped a thigh between her legs, allowing himself to grind his pelvis on her thigh. The drawback with robes was that they were a hindrance in such situations, so they were soon hitched up around their waist; unfortunately, the skirt Hermione wore beneath her robe was still in the way.

"I believe we'd better go to bed," Severus whispered huskily in her ear. "I want you out of these cumbersome layers."

He stood up and took her hand to lead her to his bedroom. Her lust-filled mind registered the presence of a four-poster bed, covered with a plush, dark green coverlet. The next thing she knew, Severus was pushing her naked form on it. She revelled in the softness of the thick velvet on her back and in the heat of Severus' body on her. He resumed their position from the sofa: his leg between hers, each rubbing the centre of their pleasure on the other. They kissed more leisurely, tasting the other's tongue, mapping the other's mouth, feeling the sharpness of the other's teeth.

She took his face between her palms and held his head slightly apart from hers. "Severus?"

"Yes?" He tried to kiss her again. If she had regrets ... well, it was too late for regrets.

"I'd like you to touch my breast."

He pushed himself on the side, moulding his body into hers as much as possible, and put his left hand on her left breast. Her moan travelled along his neurons from his ears right to his groin. His blood was taken in the movement, and his brain shut down completely. His mouth travelled along the curves of her neck, shoulders, collarbone, grazing and in some places marking her soft skin, until it reached her nipples. He caressed each of them with his hand, lips and tongue.

Her hands were alternatively gripping his hair to keep his head where it was, or massaging the nape of his neck or his shoulders. Her legs were restless in spite of his weight partly on her, her pelvis was undulating without her knowing it, her juices were forming a wet trail on his thigh, coating the dark hair that covered it, and she wanted something more to happen between her legs. She caught the hand that was attending her right breast and tried to bring it to her clitoris. Instinctively, Severus moved his leg away and cupped her sex. She ground herself against his fingers and started a chant of onomatopoeias. In-between "oh" and "ah" and "yes", Severus understood "now" and slid between her legs. She bent her knees, and, cradled by her body, he entered her.

Both thought, though their hazy brains hardly registered it, This is heaven! Severus tried to keep a level rhythm, not too fast, not too slow, but Hermione's legs wrapping themselves at the small of his back shattered any minimal resolve at holding a measure of control he might have imagined. He started pounding heartily into her, his torso braced on his arms, his eyes set on Hermione's upward-turned face. He felt his cock being stroked by the walls of her cunt, her muscles clenching in harmony with his movements, letting him feel the approach of her orgasm.

She was moaning with each of his thrusts. With her fingernails, she was drawing random patterns on the skin of his back. Suddenly, she tensed, and she threw her head back so much, that he feared she would snap her neck. He didn't stop though, nor did he even relent. He was letting go completely, taken by the need to ejaculate inside the beautiful and passionate woman under him. He felt it; he felt his come being expulsed from his balls, running along his urethra and gushing out in its hot, wet, and welcoming receptacle.

Afterward, he didn't collapse on her, but rather lay down at her side, stroking and caressing her still form. They were both panting slightly.

She turned her head towards him and smiled. "Thank you, Severus. I needed an outlet after a day like this. I've never thought that speaking in front a teenage audience could be so stressing."

He chuckled. "Welcome in my world, my dear."

"Well, now I'm exhausted. May I sleep here?"

He considered her. She did look exhausted, and his bed was big enough for two...or more. Perhaps it would help convince her to have an encore of their performance? I really need to get laid more if I'm thinking of bedding her again not ten minutes after our coupling.

"That's no problem for me. I have everything you could need in my quarters. Just be discreet when you leave tomorrow morning. Some students have already seen you leave my quarters this morning...don't forget that I had taken the extended Polyjuice...and it wouldn't do for it to happen twice in a row. I don't want to be the object of gossips." Especially when the gossip columnist was Albus Dumbledore.