Discovered

JKR owns the characters and world. The story is mine. The beta is divine. Thanks, Leigh-Anne!

9. DISCOVERED

He awoke to darkness with his wand in his hand, a curse on his lips and both aimed at something on the floor beside him.

Hesitation could mean death.

Yet, he hesitated.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness.

She was on the floor beside him.

Merlin's soul, what in fucking hell was she doing?

A soft moan.

He lit his wand to a soft glow and checked more closely.

Her hair tangled around her in a storm cloud, she tossed restlessly.

Tears streaked down her face.

Legil--

He stopped himself.

He didn't want to know.

He reached to wake her.

Stopped himself.

He'd leave her to her own nightmares.

He had plenty of his own.

He rolled over and off the bed, stood and glared down at her.

She probably would wail and moan to her friends about sleeping on the floor. Well, let her. He didn't tell her to do that. He hadn't even thought about it before. Wondering where she was sleeping was hardly on his list of worries in recent days.

He didn't even remember getting in the bed the night before. He remembered sitting in the chair ... then nothing. She must have done it.

She wore his shirt, again. In her tossing, she'd kicked off her cover, and her bare legs were covered with goosebumps. He recalled how silky and slick they'd been in the bath water and stifled a snarl.

He forced himself to stop staring at her.

He was awake. He had things to do.

He left her to her dreams and the cold night air.

After a stop at the bathroom – he didn't flush, didn't want to wake her because he sure as hell didn't want company – he paced back to his private laboratory.

The wards were down.

Fuck.

Wand at the ready, he used a hand wave and opened the door.

Where there had been melted cauldrons – nothing.

Where there had been broken beakers and glassware – not a splinter.

Where there had been spilled ingredients – spotless surfaces.

The lab was pristine, if desolate.

On a worktable rested a parchment with a meticulous inventory of what was still there, another with an inventory of what had been destroyed, and a third with other possible needed items.

So. She hadn't spent the entire four days hovering over him in despair, it would seem.

Impertinent, over-achieving girl.

He sat on a stool to go over the lists and make corrections.

#

Hermione stretched her arms and arched her back, stifling a yawn that threatened to turn into a groan. Her covers were tucked snugly up around her chin, and she snuggled deeper into them, wondering what time it was.

She opened her eyes and blinked blearily–

And found Professor Snape studying her from above.

He leaned against the wall by the fireplace, arms folded, as if he'd been there for a long time.

She sat up quickly.

"So," he said in a voice velvety soft. "Is your plan to regale your friends with stories of sleeping on the floor alone while I sleep in the bed?"

The very thought of people knowing what transpired between her and Professor Snape made her ill.

"Surely I've provided you with ample ammunition to earn you the pity of everyone you know," he said bitterly.

"I don't want pity," she said sharply.

He glared at her through hooded eyes.

Clearly, she thought without any clarity at all, she needed to stop looking at his bare shoulders and torso because now that he was no longer unconscious they radiated intimidation.

He flung himself onto his bed and folded his hands behind his head. She felt him, still glaring, even though she refused to meet his eyes.

Tea. She needed tea.

She ignored him and busied her hands with the preparation, but unfortunately that left her mind all too unoccupied.

Why did he keep watching her? Didn't he have anything better to do?

Ungrateful bastard.

Well, what did he have to be grateful for, after all? She was the one with debts piling up higher than she'd ever be able to repay.

She forced herself to focus on tea.

Carefully swirling the leaves in the Brown Betty as she walked, Hermione crossed to the leather chair with the tea tray following her.

Green flames flared in the fireplace and the Headmaster's head appeared.

"Severus, I must request that you and, um, good morning, Miss Gran...I mean, Madam Snape."

Hermione blocked his view of the room and used her heel to kick her pallet under the bed. At the same moment, she felt the white shirt she wore transfigure into a floor-length nightgown. She looked up startled, and found Professor Snape staring through slanted eyes at the fireplace, his hand dangling languidly beside him.

"Could the two of you come to my office as soon as possible?"

Snape rose on one elbow in the bed. "You know I don't have time for a meeting, Albus. I have classes this morning."

The headmaster cleared his throat and appeared uneasy. "I think this supersedes your first class, Severus."

Snape's hooded eyes fixed on the old wizard's head in a glare, and he asked in a deceptively smooth voice, "Do we have time to dress, or would you prefer us to present ourselves as we were so rudely thrust into this world to take our first breaths?"

Hermione jerked a startled look at him. He wanted Dumbledore to think he was naked under the covers? Whatever on earth for?

"I do believe clothing is appropriate for this meeting." Dumbledore coughed. "Miss Gra...I mean, Mrs. Snape's parents are here."

With that, his head disappeared.

Hermione gasped.

"Miss Granger, might I impose upon you to share your tea?"

"But Professor Dumbledore said..."

"Really," he replied blandly. "Are you afraid of them?"

She looked at him, at his narrowed eyes and hawkish nose and arrogant expression, and felt her tension ease. "Of course not," she replied and realized she wasn't.

She quickly poured his cup, added milk and sugar, stirred it precisely three times clockwise and one time anticlockwise, then stopped just short of handing it to him. " I'm sorry, I forgot." She forced a very innocent smile. "You prefer tea from the kitchen."

He snatched the tea from her before she could move it out of his reach. "I'll force myself."

There was no way he could hide his pleasure as he sipped and the heat eased its way into his body. "Thank you," he finally growled.

She hid her grin as she prepared her own cup.

She had something to add to the list, "Ways to Make Professor Snape's Life Easier."

It was too late to change what had been done, but she was determined to make their situation feel less onerous to him.

They sat in what could almost be termed conspiratorial silence and sipped their tea. But finally, Hermione couldn't deny the unease that tightened her shoulders and roiled in her stomach. Her shirt was a shirt once again so she pulled on her jeans and the black robe she'd worn the night before.

She'd get Dobby to bring her trunk later. And Crookshanks.

She nibbled her lower lip.

Maybe she should ask about Crookshanks.

No. She wouldn't ask.

She'd deal with the aftershocks later.

When Snape was ready, they silently made their way through back corridors she'd never seen before and, after Snape barked out the password, ended up outside the Headmaster's office.

She paused and drew in a deep breath.

"Am I happy or miserable?" he asked with a glower.

She couldn't tell whether he was taunting her or wanting an answer so decided the straightforward approach was best. "Just be yourself, with all that entails." She cleared her throat and avoided his gaze. "There are things about me that you don't know."

She knocked on the door and entered before he could demand more answers.

XXX

What the bloody hell did that mean?

He followed Miss Granger into Albus's office.

Her chin raised and stubborn, he watched her move to the strangers across the desk from Albus. She offered each of them a cool cheek to – well, to brush against their own cool cheeks.

Icy politeness seemed the order of the day.

One look at her parents, and all sorts of things clicked into place, even as others spun wildly out of orbit.

The mother was tall and angular and horse-faced. She had rather large teeth and stylishly-cropped, greying hair of a similar texture to Miss Granger. She wore tweeds that draped gracefully and expensively on her lean body, and she looked like she spent far too much time on a horse. She had ten years on Severus, at least.

The father was tall and even older. In his youth, he might have been good looking, in a narrow-nosed, weak-chinned, inbred way. He obviously had an excellent tailor, and it was doubtful he had shined his own shoes to such a high gloss.

"Mummy, Daddy, I would like you to meet my husband, Professor Severus Snape. Severus, may I present my parents, Sir Alistair Granger, Baron of Eastleigh, and Lady Granger?"

Clearly, these people were not dentists.

Clearly, they held everything within their line of sight in the greatest disdain.

Clearly, if there was anything Severus Snape could return with interest, it was disdain.

"Charmed," he drawled. He folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, as if either too lazy or too bored to make the effort for more.

He didn't like the way the mother stared at him through assessing eyes.

He assessed her back.

"Well," she announced to no one in particular. "I'm beginning to understand a few things."

"Pray tell, Lady Granger, please illuminate us all. I myself haven't understood anything for five days."

He noticed that his Granger seemed to be fighting laughter. Interesting.

Lady Granger fixed her acid look on her daughter. "So we had to find out from the Dean of the Cathedral that our only child had wed?"

"I didn't think you'd want to be there," Hermione said calmly.

"You may think you have everything wrapped up in a neat little bow, young lady," the baron blustered, "but I intend to appeal this to the highest levels of Westminster and of Canterbury and put an end to this nonsense!"

"Neither the pillars of Parliament nor those of the Church of England tremble at your approach, Daddy, so you can stop your ridiculous posturing," Hermione huffed.

Oh, that seemed to find its mark. Well done. Perhaps he could watch this as a spectator and stay out of the way of hexes.

"And while we're on the subject," her mother added, "you claim all this came up last week, but we find the banns were published and arrangements made for a cathedral wedding, which has to be done months if not years in advance–"

Finally, Albus decided to intervene.

"Lady Granger, please don't blame Hermione for this. There was no advance preparation, but it only took a bit of magical intervention to smooth the way backward, so to speak, so that everything is official. And as for the cathedral wedding..." Albus looked at Hermione questioningly. "I believe that must have been your daughter's, um, 'requirement.'"

Hermione looked surprised and aimed Severus a look of dawning comprehension. Perhaps she remembered him shoving her through first, so that it would be her 'requirements' that would be met.

She smoothed her robes primly. "I was baptized and confirmed in Winchester Cathedral, as have been more generations of Grangers than we can number. Of course I would be married there." Her smirk was only the tiniest bit smug, but quite a bit filled with sass. "And of course, impossible for you to challenge, Daddy."

"I'm sure the Board of Governors of this... institution," her father announced, "must frown on such a relationship as has obviously been ongoing between the professor and my innocent daughter – "

Severus snorted.

"...and I intend to pursue this matter to the full extent of whatever law exists in this place!"

"You will do no such thing," Hermione snapped. "You will go back to your life and leave me alone in mine. And when you've learned to behave yourself, perhaps we can meet again on more civil terms. Until then, I have my education to pursue, and my husband has his job."

Her cheeks flamed, and her hair was a riot of tangles as she returned to stand beside him as if she belonged there, which upon consideration, he rather supposed she did.

She looked rather disarming when she was in a snit.

Her mother clearly wasn't satisfied. "Now that you're married to a member of the staff, how can you presume to continue your education with any semblance of integrity?"

And something inside Snape snapped.

"Madam," he said coldly, "you will never again impugn my wife's integrity if you wish to see her again in my lifetime, and I warn you, wizards live far longer than mere humans."

"Please, please," Albus protested, ever the fucking peacemaker. "Let's not let our tempers get the best of us, and let's not say things that will haunt us in the future. I believe I understand your question, Lady Granger, and agree it bears addressing. Hermione's grades have always been top of her class. There will be no question that if she continues to get high grades it will be because she earned them. My staff is beyond reproach. I'll appreciate your acceptance of that fact."

Lady Granger turned her gaze to Snape's and tilted her head. "And Potions? No one will question a student taking classes from her own husband?"

Damn but the woman was insufferable.

Snape felt Hermione tense to respond but cut her off. "Of course it would be inappropriate for her to sit in my classroom. In fact, I'll find it much easier to teach when the little know-it-all," which he attempted to sound like an endearment, which was an interesting challenge, "isn't there. As it is, I have to prepare for two if not three different classes simultaneously when I attempt to teach your daughter. She routinely assaults me with a barrage of questions, the answers to which only she and I would even comprehend, since she is so far ahead of any others in her year. Valuable time is taken away from those who are not at her level, and the rest of her time is wasted on what can only be termed busy work."

He gave a haughty sniff. "However, I will tutor her privately for her NEWTs, with the goal of having Madam Snape equal or better the highest score in Potions in the history of Hogwarts. I feel it is within her grasp, under my tutelage."

Both Hermione and Albus turned shocked eyes to his face, and he blithely ignored them both. Just because he would encourage her to beat his own scores didn't mean she had a shot in hell to actually do it.

"Now, if you have nothing else – I have a class waiting for me, and Hermione has her own schedule to fulfill."

It almost worked. He almost managed to steer Hermione through the door and out of the office, but the harridan caught her breath and managed to blurt one last request.

"I won't leave – I can't leave my daughter here until I see where she's living."

Fuck.

"Of course you can't, and I'm sure Professor Snape and Hermione will be delighted to show you their quarters. I do think it would be best if you Flooed in, as this is the first day of this school term and the corridors are apt to be a little disorganized."

Snape shot Albus a glare, but Albus ignored him.

As Albus began explaining the process of Flooing, Snape grabbed a handle of powder from the mantle, flung it into fireplace and dragged Hermione in with him.

When they landed in his quarters, before he could catch his breath, she flung herself into his arms, laughing. "You were brilliant!" she gasped, and before he could stop her, she kissed him.

He had sworn that wasn't going to happen again.

He jerked away, but not in time. Not before the surge of reaction rampaged through him, settling into his groin. He peeled her arms from his neck and turned her to face the fireplace a split-moment prior to her mother, her father and Albus stepping through.

And belatedly realized what they would all see.

Quarters that in no way had been altered to accommodate a second person.

Quarters that were selfishly and stubbornly unchanged from when he lived alone.

A disheveled narrow bed, suitable only for one person. Half-empty teacups, books piled everywhere, one reading chair, one table and chair.

Hermione's father seemed too stunned by the actual process of Flooing to take in anything. But the mother, ah, she was another thing all together.

Her eyes didn't miss a thing as they raked every surface, glanced into the bathroom (still in disarray), and deeper into his quarters.

"My private laboratory," he announced firmly. "Off limits."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"I'd like to speak to my daughter. Alone."

"All right," Hermione said. "We can do that."

Albus herded her father back into the fireplace. Snape hesitated, but Hermione shook her head slightly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, pointedly ignoring her mother.

"Yes." She smiled half-heartedly.

He finally turned to the woman, offered his hand and said silkily, "Lady Granger, you are welcome to stay in our home as long as my wife welcomes you."

He made a dignified retreat out of the line of fire.

XXX

"Mummy." Hermione offered her mother the hard chair.

"No, darling, I won't be long. I just wanted you to understand that when you come to your senses, your father and I will be most happy to have you return. No choice you make can't be undone one way or another."

"Am I supposed to thank you for that?" Hermione snapped.

"I feel better having said it, so I hope you will forgive me for needing to."

Her mother walked along the walls, gazing at the books. "Can he afford you?"

"What?" Hermione was stunned.

"He's a teacher, darling. He lives in school housing, which is neither spacious nor luxurious..."

"Mother! I don't care about those things."

"Of course you don't because you've never had to." She arrived at the bed and stared down it, and then gave Hermione a knowing look.

"You're so transparent, darling."

Hermione was certain she was going to regret asking, but she felt compelled to ask anyway, "In what way?"

"The reason you wanted to marry him."

"I didn't wan--," she began, but broke off quickly. And then, "Oh, god." She shot a nervous glance around the room, wondering what – other than a certain scholarly untidiness – her mother "saw" that suddenly made her believe she was an authority on Hermione's relationship with Professor Snape.

"Don't 'oh, god' me, young lady. No wonder you were swept away by him–"

Hermione couldn't stop her gasp. "By Professor Snape?"

Her mother looked at her, her expression almost pitying. She closed the distance between them and stroked Hermione's cheek. "Darling, are you trying to delude yourself or me? You'd have to be blind not to see it. Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't attract most silly young girls, but a woman sees these things. The man radiates power. He practically reeks of sensuality. And his eyes – " Her mother laughed. "Well, they go beyond undressing you. He seems as if he could peer right into your soul."

Hermione felt a twinge of anger. Had Professor Snape used Legilimens on her mother?

She'd kill him.

"The problem with falling in love with your teacher..."

In love?

"...is that the day comes when your world is larger than a school room or even a magical castle, and you realize that the authority and power that overwhelmed you as a schoolgirl are small and dusty and stodgy compared to the real world you're ready to enter."

Hermione didn't even attempt to respond. Her mother had no comprehension of the "power" that existed in the wizarding world, and thus no comprehension of how Professor Snape stood head and shoulders above most wizards, even if he did spend most of his time in a classroom.

"He obviously has little room in his life for anything but books and work," her mother continued, "and thus was safe from undesired feminine distractions until..."

Lady Granger dropped her hand to her side. "Until a similarly-focused young woman was born a witch." She gestured toward the rest of the room and Hermione braced herself for more scathing commentary, but her mother surprised her. "All books, no furniture. You've found a man who shares your priorities," she sighed. "And, yet..."

"Please, Mummy. It's done. It can't be changed. I don't want it changed. Can't you just let it go?"

Her mother gave her a hard look, then sighed again. "You need your own reading chair. I'll send it along." She gave Hermione a cool peck on the cheek. "I'm going to go back and retrieve your father and glare one more time at your new husband, and then leave you to it. But don't think I'm happy. Let's just hope you are."

Hermione nodded, feeling like she'd gotten off rather easily. "Erm, I need you to double up when you send my PG Tips. It seems Prof... um, Severus, likes Muggle tea."

"I'll send it by owl." Her mother grabbed a fistful of Floo powder, tossed it into the flames and announced, "Headmaster's office," as if she'd been Flooing all her life.

Hermione had often been told she took after her mother.

She sank to the bed and sat, overwhelmed. There was so much to think about, she didn't even know where to begin.

She needed to make another list.

Several lists.

She was crossing to find some parchment on the desk when Professor Snape entered from the corridor.

"Well, they're gone," he announced. "She waltzed into Albus's office as if she owned it, wished me a happy life, collected your father and left."

"My mother finds you attractive," Hermione blurted.

He paled as if she'd squirted him with bubutuber pus. "Surely you don't think – you don't mean your mother –"

She burst into laughter. "I just thought it was information you might tuck away for future reference. A weapon, as it were, if you ever need to deal with her again."

At the even more horrified expression on his face, she laughed harder. "I didn't mean you'd seduce her, you big git! I meant, you know – you'd just –" She couldn't find the words. Unable to stand, she dropped onto the bed and held her side.

"Miss Granger, I don't have time for this nonsense. I think perhaps I should leave you to your hysteria and hope that you've come to your senses by lunch, when I can assure you that you will have any number of questions to answer, not the least of which is why you told everyone your parents were dentists!"

With a swirl of his robes, he billowed through the opening in the wall. As it closed after him, she fell to the bed and laughed until she cried and cried until she slept.

Which was not a bad thing.