Interrogation and Inquiries

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o 39 o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Interrogation and Inquiries

The next day, after their last class, Severus brought Ginny and Hermione to the Ministry for questioning. Hermione sat between Ginny and Severus at the oval table while both Ron and Auror Blume asked questions regarding the events leading up to the raid on Mr. Prince’s house. Ron was heading the briefing, and he was being very thorough, his quill scratching away as he took down everyone’s statements. Madam Pomfrey, who had been there when they’d arrived, sat next to Harry, having already given her findings regarding the potions Severus had given her.

Ron looked up at the Healer. “Madam Pomfrey, I know you are a very busy woman. Your reports are very thorough. If you need to go, I think I have all I need from you for now. Be advised, you may be called in to testify at a formal hearing.”

Madam Pomfrey rose gracefully to her feet. “Thank you, Auror Trainee Weasley. If you need anything more from me, please contact me at the school.”

Auror Blume looked directly at Hermione. “Now, Mrs. Snape, please tell me why you felt it necessary to make an unauthorized departure from the school instead of informing the Aurors of the situation?”

Hermione sighed. She knew she’d be reprimanded for her actions yesterday. She’d already had an earful from Severus after returning to the castle last night. “It was the urgency of the matter. Ginny was going to the Aurory to inform Harry and Ron, and to find Severus. Pepper, Mr. Prince’s house-elf, implied that the men in the house were going to kill Mr. Prince. I thought that if I could only hold them off until Harry and Ron got there – that I might be able to protect Mr. Prince until you came.” She could feel Severus stiffen beside her. “Headmaster Dumbledore’s portrait said Severus had just left for the Ministry with Minister Shacklebolt. I hoped it would only take minutes to have Severus and the Minister notified as well…”

“And you’re bloody lucky that’s how things went down. Thankfully, Ginny found us in time. Now, what were the spells you used on the room?” Ron asked.

Hermione calmly listed off the spells she’d used, including the ones on the stairs, even though she was quietly seething at Ron’s curtness toward her. Okay, she’d acted rashly, but it had all worked out, and Mr. Prince was now safe with two Junior Aurors temporarily assigned to guard the house.

Ron repeated the list back to her and made another notation on the parchment. “What time did you leave the school precisely?”

“It was about three o’clock, maybe a little after. The same time Ginny Flooed to the Ministry. Pepper pulled me along with her through some type of trans-relocation – their version of Apparation.” She wasn’t sure it was the same, since no one had ever really studied house-elf magic enough to have written about it. It certainly hadn’t felt the same as when she Apparated.

“And after you warded the stairs, door, and windows, what did you do next?” Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged, the memory from the tense moments leading up to Severus’ knock on the door still vivid in her mind. She related what she could remember calmly and in as detached a voice as she could muster.

With an equal, no-nonsense tone, Ron asked Ginny her accounting. Ginny related what she’d seen and heard from Pepper and why she’d used the Floo to find Harry or Ron, stating that she’d been relieved to find everyone she’d sought in the small room in the Aurory.

Ron tapped his quill and looked over at Severus. “Headmaster, do you have anything to add?”

Hermione listened intently as Severus calmly related his version of the events, starting with his notifying Kingsley of Hermione’s discovery, going to the Ministry to search through the files there, Ginny’s arrival at the Aurory and up to when he’d knocked on Mr. Prince’s bedroom door. Auror Blume likewise gave Ron his account as did Kingsley. Hermione listened to their accounts intently.

Apparently, everyone had arrived at a distance from the house and ran the rest of the way to avoid detection. Severus and Kingsley stayed at the front of the house while Harry and Ron had Apparated to the old stables, and Aurors Blume and Tucker to the back of the house. Severus, Kingsley, and Aurors Blume and Tucker placed an Anti-Apparation barrier and the Apparation-Detection Charm around the property. Aurors Blume and Tucker had tried to get to the back entrance unseen as Ron and Harry had moved from the old stables to the entrance off the kitchen.

When Blume and Tucker had positioned themselves at the back entrance, Blume had apparently been seen, which had started off the fighting. Severus and Kingsley had rushed in from the front door when the shouting had started. Blume had had to blast open the glass doors that led from the foyer to the back gardens to get in, but Tucker had been hit by a curse before he could follow Blume inside. Ron and Harry had burst open the door to the kitchen, but they’d lost the element of surprise.

Harry and Ron had engaged Mrs. Osgood, nee Miss Priswell, and Charles Prince in the kitchen. Even old Dustin had tried to help, but he was felled by a curse from Charles Prince. At one point Mrs. Osgood had tried to Apparate, but splinched herself, and Ron had stunned Charles Prince.

Blume, Severus, and Kingsley had engaged Ludwick Graven and John Talfryn Osgood in the foyer. John Talfryn Osgood had tried to run up the staircase, which had suddenly turned into a slide, making him tumble into Ludwick Graven. It had been a very nasty but quick fight. Ron had taken Auror Tucker to St. Mungo’s, and Harry had personally carried the old house-elf to the hospital, dragging Mrs. Osgood along by the wrist. Auror Tucker was still recovering in the Auror Security Spell Damage ward.

For the sake of the report, each wand was checked for the spells cast and recorded as well.

“All right. That’s all we need from you at this time. We’ll interrogate the prisoners and file the official report,” Ron stated, tapping his quill on the parchment.

“Which will be on my desk before you file the official findings,” Kingsley stated authoritatively. “I assume that Severus will press formal charges against the accused; however, this was a raid on suspected Death Eater activities until you hear otherwise from me.”

Ron, Harry, and Blume looked surprised, but Blume nodded, saying, “Of course, Minister. The preliminary report will be on your desk first thing.”

“And I’d like to interrogate the prisoners,” Severus said in a cold drawl that made Hermione turn to look at him, startled.

Kingsley held up his hand, but Harry spoke up first. “If you’d allow me, Professor. If you’re filing formal charges, that wouldn’t be appropriate. Thanks to our private Occlumency lessons and my training here at the Aurory, I’ve gained a fair ability at Legilimency. That, and we use Veritaserum on those accused of Death Eater activities, which is witnessed by two Aurors and recorded by an Echo-Ingeminate Orb. I will be happy to do these inquiries for you. I’ll even allow you to write down what questions you’d like asked.”

“Believe me, Severus, Harry and I will be quite thorough,” Kingsley stated, smiling at him.

Severus reluctantly relented, allowing Harry and Kingsley to handle the interrogations. Kingsley offered the use of his Floo for Severus, Hermione, and Ginny to return to school. Harry escorted Ginny to the Minister’s office and kissed Ginny quickly before she disappeared in the green flames. Hermione and Severus went next.

When they arrived, Severus turned to Ginny. “While I’m grateful for your assistance, Ginevra, I would appreciate a few minutes alone with my wife.”

Ginny smiled knowingly, but Hermione thought she might be making an inaccurate assumption to Severus’ meaning. “All right, Severus. Hermione, I’ll see you later,” she said with a wink and turned to go.

Maggie couldn’t believe her eyes; Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Mr. and Mrs. Snape were leaving the Aurory with Minister Shacklebolt. Everyone was somber but smiling and looking for all intents and purposes as if they’d had an important meeting – well, except for Mr. Snape. But then she’d never seen that wizard smile. At least he wasn’t frowning or sneering, but then he didn’t look all that pleased either. Maggie hurried into the office to file her report of the newest entry in the Obituary and Life Termination register. However, no matter how she tried to pry into the reason for the Snapes and Potters to be in the Aurory, Miss Hartshorn wouldn’t divulge anything.

“It’s the Minister’s new Fides Troth of Confidentiality Charm, Miss Whitmire,” she said politely, infuriating Maggie. “All of the support staff in the Aurory had to be placed under it.”

“But does it have to do with the Snapes’ Bonding?” Maggie persisted. “Their files are still pending their decisions on my desk. I happen to have all the forms ready in my office…”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Miss Whitmire,” Miss Hartshorn replied, tapping a purple memo with her wand so it folded neatly into an aeroplane and flew away.

Maggie turned and decided to confront the Minister in regards to the Snapes’ marital standing. The door to his office was closed.

“May I help you, Miss Whitmire?” Maybelline Quirk, the Minister’s secretary, asked, carrying an armload of files to her desk.

“I would like to see the Minister,” Maggie said, trying to sound as if it was important.

Maybelline set the files down and looked at her. “Did you have an appointment? He’s still in a meeting, I’m afraid.”

“With whom, may I ask?” Maggie asked tactfully. “I might have questions for Mr. Potter and Mr. and Mrs. Snape.”

Maybelline didn’t even flinch or blink at the mention of the names. “I’m sorry, Maggie, but Minister Shacklebolt has issued a Fides Troth of Confidentiality Charm on all Ministry matters on a need-to-know basis only. I’m really not at liberty to confirm or deny with whom he is meeting. If you’d like, I can see when he’d have a spare moment for you?”

“Fine,” Maggie said, her feelings now hurt.

After checking a schedule roster, Maybelline said, “If you’d like to come back at eleven tomorrow, you may have ten minutes.”

Maggie accepted and turned to leave, walking as slowly as possible, hoping to overhear or see anything that could give her a clue as to what was going on.

When she entered her office, there was a note on her desk for her to go see the Head of her department.

“Is there anything you can say to make me understand why you’d knowingly put yourself in danger instead of alerting the proper authorities?” Severus said, annoyance making his tone sharp. He crossed his arms and stared at Hermione as if expecting an answer.

They were standing in the middle of his office, their robes still dusty with Floo ash. “Ginny went to the Ministry, and I went to the house,” she stated again. They’d talked about this last night; why was he drilling her again? Not to mention she’d just covered all this back at the Ministry.

“I’m aware of that.” Severus relaxed a fraction. He raised his eyebrow, and his mouth twitched. “In order to move my great-grandfather from his home, against his will, or so I was informed, to some undisclosed location, or so you said.”

“To save his life,” she snapped, but instantly regretted it. Being petulant was not going to help her win this argument, and she knew it. It certainly hadn’t helped her last night.

“You were well barricaded in, as I recall,” he said in his less-than-scathing tone. He looked at her thoughtfully and then amended his statement, “You set the stairs up as a trap, which I appreciated by the way, and secured the bedroom.”

“That’s the gist of it,” she replied with a nod of her head.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes narrowing. “Why?”

She just couldn’t believe that he didn’t understand. “Because he’s your great-grandfather – the only family you have left!” And she liked the old wizard.

His lips curled as he smirked at her. “I have an uncle,” he said condescendingly.

“Who’s in Azkaban now,” she pointed out. She tried a new tactic. “When have I ever not stood up for people I care about?” He looked at her dumbfoundedly, but she had to make him understand. “He’s family, Severus. He’s old and ill, and I had to do something.”

He ran his hand through his hair as he turned away from her, then faced her again. “I suppose I should just learn to expect this sort of thing from you?”

“I can’t stop being who I am,” she said. He knew her, sort of; he’d been her teacher for six years. She was a doer, and that wasn’t likely to change.

He stepped forward and caught her by the wrist, pulling her closer to him. “I never knew you had a heroine complex.” His hands gripped her shoulders tightly as he looked at her as if trying to read her intentions in her eyes. “I always thought of you as the brains of Potter’s schemes and assumed Potter was the rash one.” His fingers relaxed slightly, although he didn't remove his hands altogether.

The heat of his hands penetrated her jumper. She looked up at him, trying to read his eyes. “I was, as well as his voice of reason, but I was with him in all of it,” she said, wondering why he only saw her as a brain. She was more than just her brain. She was a witch. She’d fought in three battles, and she’d helped Harry on most of his adventures.

Severus’ face relaxed and he snorted. “You frustrate me to no end,” he sneered softly, but without the vinegar it previously had.

“I know,” she said in a heavy sigh.

His next moved startled her. He lifted her up and set her on his desk, stepping between her knees as he kissed her. She inhaled, and he pressed forward, deepening his kiss, his body making contact with hers as he held her in a steel embrace.

“Not here… the portraits will see,” she managed to say against his mouth.

“Fine,” he said, taking her hand, pulling her off his desk and upstairs to his sitting room. He quickly snaked one hand in her hair, the other at her lower back, kissing her soundly as he turned with her, backing her up as if in a dance. Her head felt like it was spinning, her stomach quivered, and for a moment she was lost in his magnetism, the deep passion of his intense kiss. He sat her down on the sofa, never once breaking the kiss.

He pushed her down gently as he leaned over her and devoured her mouth relentlessly. Hermione matched his fire, feeling heady, her senses soaring, and her hands caressing, exploring his body as if of their own volition. One of his hands slid under her jumper and cupped a breast, the other at her side, pinning her in place beneath him. His hand felt hot through her cotton blouse, and she moaned at the contact. Severus trailed kisses down to her throat and neck as his hand slid down to her groin and cupped her, rubbing his hand across her conjuncture, tantalizing her clit. Hermione stiffened. “Why not?” he asked, stopping.

“You know why!” she said, still breathless.

“No, actually, I don’t,” he growled deep and low, sending shivers down her spine to her groin under his hand – exactly where she didn’t want to feel it.

She squirmed to ease the tingling sensations. “You – me, I don’t just want to have sex,” she tried to explain.

His hand moved as he shifted his weight, but the feelings he’d aroused hardly ebbed. “Sex – you’re afraid of having sex with me?” he asked, clearly astounded.

“Sex – as opposed to making love,” she protested. She was still pinned beneath him and wanted to sit up.

“Love?” he asked, his dark eyes, now much darker due to his lust, staring into hers as if to read her. “Would you make some bloody sense?”

He wasn’t using Legilimency on her; the intrusion wasn’t there. “You aren’t in love with me,” she stated, lowering her eyes to his mouth. His lips were slightly swollen, still moist from their kiss and parted slightly.

He pushed up so he could see her better, but that only made his dark hair frame his face in shadow. “You expect me to love you?” She could tell he was trying to follow her rationalization, but regret flickered in his eyes the moment her expression turned stony and she tried to push him off her. “Let me rephrase that – you won’t have sex with me because you feel I won’t make love to you, is that it?”

She relaxed her arms, and her head and shoulders fell back onto the sofa cushions. “You say I’m yours, your wife, but we’re not married…only Bonded, and I – I have no idea how you feel about me,” she admitted. How could she make him understand? With him looking at her this way, being so close, his scent, it was so hard to think.

“How I feel? I desire you.”

Her gaze locked with his at his admission. “Great,” she sighed and looked away. Yes, I know you want this – you want me physically.

“I would kill for you.”

That didn’t surprise her either. And of course you’d kill – you were a Death Eater… you’re a possessive man – a protector…

“Hermione?”

She looked up at him, and all she saw was lust and confusion. She tried to move out from under him, and he held her tighter. “Hermione, have you ever heard the phrase, ‘Love comes softly’? It’s common among those in arranged marriages or Bonded unions to have to grow to love one another.”

“But,” she protested, propping herself up slightly on her elbows.

“Have you never considered that the spell you used matches soul mates? Not lovers – soul mates. Did you honestly think that all soul mates automatically love each other at first sight?”

She sighed. “No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe. Yes, I did. I mean, it’s like that for Ginny and Harry and Luna and Neville.”

His hands were now planted on either side of her shoulders, his arms fully extended as he looked down at her face, but that only made his groin press more firmly against her inner thigh, and she could feel his stiff penis twitch as if begging to have her relent.

“And Mr. and Mrs. Potter were a couple in his sixth year, if I recall. Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were well-acquainted friends in school, especially in their fifth and seventh years. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a mutual attraction then. You and I did not have such an amiable relationship previous to your casting of the spell. Larissa Roquewood hardly knew Theodore Nott at all when they were matched with a plight spell, and she was given six months to acquaint herself with Mr. Nott before assuming her role as his wife.”

She knew he was making sense, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “You were awful to me,” she said, pouting. Gods, why did she feel like such a kid around him?

“I was; I admit it. I was furious that I’d been trapped – we’ve discussed this,” he said, angling his head slightly to the side to try and look her in the eye. “Damn it, Hermione,” he growled, pushing himself off her, but still on all fours above her. “You respond to me; I know you feel it. Your body is saying yes; I can feel the passion from you, and then you say no. It’s driving me insane.” He backed away from her, kneeling above her and staring down at her.

She knew he wanted an answer; his expression was stony, angry, but she had no idea what to say. Hermione sat up and stared at her hands. Ask him. Just ask him. She didn’t want to. It was something that should come naturally, like in the books. “Maybe I should go?” Coward. Ask him.

“No.”

Her head snapped up, and she couldn’t help but gape at him.

“You’ll stay. I won’t touch you, but you’re staying.” He turned and walked to the nearest shelf, randomly pulled a book out, turned and thrust it at her.

She swallowed nervously as she accepted the book and read the title: The Manipulation of Matter and Form. He sat down in a chair, picked up a book on the small table next to it and began reading. Hermione opened the cover and saw Property of the Half-Blood Prince written on the bottom of the front cover. She turned the page and scanned down the list of spells, flipping to the pages indicated for some of them. It was a book on Transfiguration spells, but these were Dark spells, manipulative ones, not generally taught in Hogwarts. Severus’ miniscule writing was on the pages, similar to his Advanced Potions book. She turned back to the first entry and began to read, taking the time to read his notes, spells, and comments in the margins of the pages, and his drolleries and drawings as well.

A house-elf appeared, carrying a tray with thick sandwiches of savory roast beef along with sliced apples, cubed cheese, and two mugs of tea. Hermione ate, completely engrossed in the book. For some of the spells, his teenage self had worked out variations, some subtle, some rather complex. A few of the variations didn’t have explanations as to what the variation did. Other times it looked like he had created a spell – or curse. She recognized the abbreviation ‘nvb’ from his Advanced Potions book and knew it to mean non-verbal. On one page, the annotation read: If preformed while still under the influence of pain potions – will cause great pain. She didn’t want to ask who had to be under the influence of pain potions – caster or victim – or how he knew this.

When the curfew bell tolled, Severus lowered his book to his lap and looked up at her. “You should go. Leave my book.”

Hermione nodded and reluctantly set the book down reverently on the coffee table, her fingers sliding on the cover as she stood up. She looked at him, expecting him to see her out, but he merely arched an eyebrow and remained seated. “Good night, Severus,” she said, turning to leave.

“Good night, Hermione. Don’t stay up too late,” he said softly as she walked away.

Narcissa peered into the den, looking for Lucius, frowning because the room was empty. Although he’d been given a pardon by the Wizengamot for his participation during the first war, they were not as lenient at his second trial for his returning to the Dark Lord’s side in 1995. However, there was very little actual evidence of Lucius’ involvement.

He’d spent most of his time the first year of the Dark Lord’s return recruiting or planning the retrieval of the Prophecy, one bungled job on a bridge over the River Stour, in Dorset, and the unfortunate battle later that same year in the Department of Mysteries, but that was all they could find against her husband. Lucius had spent the following year in Azkaban, serving time for his involvement in the Department of Mysteries. After that, from the time after his breakout up to the eve of the final battle, he had been held homebound and wandless by the Dark Lord. The rosewood wand Lucius had been given for the final battle hadn’t responded well to him – so he’d been kept back in Hogsmeade with the Dark Lord and hadn’t engaged in the actual final fight. In fact, he’d entered the castle and used shielding charms as he’d tried to find his wife or son. However, regardless, the Wizengamot had been less than forgiving, and Lucius had paid dearly for bearing the Dark Mark. Only his continued cooperation with the Aurors had kept him out of Azkaban this time.

As Narcissa walked to the library, she considered going to the stables to look for Lucius. She entered the large room, hoping to see Lucius or Draco seated comfortably with a book, but instead was surprised to see Severus on the ladder, checking through some of the darker Potions books. “Severus, what a nice surprise.”

He turned slightly and nodded in greeting. “Narcissa, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Lucius granted me permission.”

“I don’t mind; you’re welcome here anytime, you know that. I was looking for Lucius,” she replied, moving closer.

“It’s been at least an hour since I’ve seen him,” he said apologetically, and set the book he’d held back on the self.

She sighed silently and smiled. “How are things at the school?”

“Tolerable,” he replied, climbing down with three books in one arm.

“And are things better between you and your Bonded mate?” she inquired, knowing he preferred that Mrs. Snape be referred to as his mate rather than wife.

His expression morphed into the blank mask he used when he didn’t want his feelings known. That in itself spoke volumes. “We are getting to know each other,” he said, placing two of the books on a table.

She smiled, one side of her mouth pulled back farther than the other, and one brow rose slightly. “From what I hear, things are not progressing very well.” For the teeniest flicker, there was a stony glint in his eyes before his expression faded quickly back into his mask of indifference. “I see.”

“You see what, precisely?” he asked, looking up from the book in his hands. His tone was still polite, but cool. She’d definitely hit a nerve.

“Oh, nothing,” Narcissa replied with a knowing smile.

As she turned to go, he snapped the book closed and took a step in her direction. “Who has said what, precisely?”

She turned to face him once again. “It’s not my place, but as a friend, I care about your happiness. You’ve had to deal with enough hardships – enough for several lifetimes – and I know things aren’t going as you’d like. So as a friend, and a woman, this is my advice: let her get to know that witty, sarcastic sense of humor you have. Let her get to know how brilliant you are. Let her see your charm.” She pointed one perfectly manicured finger at him. “It’s in there, buried down deep, but every once in a while, it breaks free.” She dropped her hand and tilted her head slightly. “And you should smile more.”

“Me, smile?” he asked with a scowl. “You do remember whom you are addressing?”

“Severus, believe me or not, when you smile, your eyes light up, they sparkle and are entrancing.” He scoffed at her, and she laughed softly. “You could try to sweep her into a corner for a heated kiss, press up against her in the library and kiss her neck when no one is around, or have her snuggle on your lap by the fire. Try reading to her; she would love that, I’m sure. When you go gather potions ingredients, pick a flower and give it to her. That would mean a lot to a girl like Mrs. Snape.”

His eyes narrowed. “A girl like – who’ve you been talking to?”

His warning look didn’t faze her in the slightest. She could almost see him cataloging her suggestions as he stared at her. “Don’t interrupt. Spend time with her doing what she likes to do. Show an interest in what she does.”

“We do. She reads or revises an essay while I read.” He said briskly, his poise like a sailor on a ship, holding his book to his chest with his arms crossed. “I have shown plenty of interest in her scholastic pursuits.”

“I have no doubt you have. She’s in school, Severus. Surely, she likes other things; do them with her. Engage the girl in a discussion about a book she’s read.” Astoria was certainly right; there was a growing rift between them. “Take your meals together.”

His lips curved into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “We do. She sits at the Gryffindor table, and I sit in the Headmaster’s chair.”

“Breakfast in your tower then,” she suggested. She’d hoped that this would have been easier; they’d been friends for years. “Make an effort, Severus. This may surprise you, but talk to her. Women are vocal creatures. We have to hear you say how you feel and what you think.”

“I know,” he said with a smirk. “They also meddle.”

Narcissa chose to ignore the last barb. “We can also be quite insecure. Give her compliments. You do know what a compliment is?” His eyes narrowed again, and she smiled. “See, it’s not so hard to be romantic.” He scowled again and she chuckled. “If you see Lucius, please let him know I’m looking for him.”

“I will,” he said, still staring at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. If you’d like to stay for lunch, you’re welcome; if not, give my best to Mrs. Snape,” she said and then turned to leave him to his thoughts.

Severus sat in the Great hall at lunch, watching the students, especially those sitting around Hermione. Although Ginevra sat on her left, Mr. Thomas had taken the seat on her right. Misses Blackpoole, Warwick, and Jameson, Hermione’s dorm mates, sat across from Ginevra and Hermione. But several young men of her house, Messrs Sloper and Coppersmith, who sat to Miss Jameson’s left, and Messrs Randell and Wevernthrall, who sat on Thomas’ right, were all clearly engaged by the conversation as well. It was apparent that his wife had gained popularity in her house, and yet she was remarkably untainted by the new attention.

Hermione’s routine hadn’t changed very much at all. He knew that she still preferred the quiet of the library to that of the Revision Hall or his presence in the Headmaster’s tower, and the later irked him. He was through playing nice. He was going to get her; she was his wife, and things were going to progress.

A Rudbeckia flower lay on the table next to Hermione, one of Narcissa’s favorites. He knew that the soft pink petals would darken, as if blushing, when one’s emotions, especially embarrassment or lust, grew strong. The flower was light pink at the moment, which pleased him. The dark center was actually a hundred tiny dark seeds and a potent potions ingredient. The scent was also a favorite perfume for those few ladies who could afford it. However, the flower only bloomed in the spring and into late summer. It rarely ever bloomed this late in the fall, even in greenhouses, except by those few who had an affinity for magical floriculture. Yet, Hermione had one lying beside her. If she had an admirer, he’d kill him. Or give them enough detentions that they’d have no time to pursue his wife.

He timed his exit from the Great Hall so he could approach her. “Where did you get that?” he asked, indicating the flower when he caught up to Hermione.

“I don’t know,” she replied, waving off Miss Blackpoole, Miss Warwick, and Ginevra. “It came by owl and there wasn’t any note. I had thought it came from you.” The color of the flower intensified as she spoke, which pleased him.

He forced himself to relax. “I’m not the flowers and candy type,” he stated.

“I know,” she said, glancing quickly at the girls waiting for her. “I was just hoping… I’m going to be late.”

“Come up tonight,” he stated, not exactly making it a question.

She turned back to look at him. “May I finish the book you gave me Wednesday?”

“Yes.” Fine. He’d pulled it out in anger, not really caring which one, and had only realized which one he’d offered after she’d left. It wasn’t one he’d have normally allowed her.

“I have some research to do for my essays, but I can come up about eight-thirty?”

He nodded. Okay, that gives me an hour and a half. “I’ll expect you tonight, then.”

He watched her go with a newfound determination. Severus was tired of playing by the rules. Doing things by the guidelines of the school charter and dictates of the school governors was not getting him anywhere. It was time to be more aggressive in his relationship with Hermione. He’d been a student here at this castle for seven years and a teacher for seventeen, and he’d seen the angst of the young wizards, knew all the hiding places better than Mr. Filch or any other teacher at Hogwarts. In fact, he knew the castle even better than Black and Potter had when they’d been here. Severus smirked; he’d use the same ploys the boys did, only he wouldn’t get caught.

He knew her schedule by heart, knew her favorite places in the castle, and he had the advantage of knowing what her coursework was in her subjects.

Hermione stood in the Potions section of the Restricted Section the next day, looking up at the binders. She made a surreptitious glance back at the portrait of Corcoran Maolduin to see if he was still watching her and frowned when she realized he was. The old Gaelic wizard considered himself a guardian of the Restricted Section and a friend of Madam Pince, and he frequently ratted on the students who wandered from the aisles for which they’d been granted permission. At least Hermione did have permission to be in the Potions section, as well as the sections for four of her other classes.

She had permission, but not for the project she was currently doing. She was searching for anything she could on the Médousa Potion, when she should have been looking up material on the Verso-Quixotically Potion, the one she and Ginny were working on as their N.E.W.T-level project. Only there was hardly anything at all on the Médousa Potion. She found plenty on the Medullaoblongata Potion, but the only books to even mention the Médousa Potion variation did only that: mention it.

Hermione closed the book and put it back. She pulled out a thick book and opened it to the Potions index. The book reminded her of Severus’ old book, only far less temperamental. Thinking of his book made her thoughts drift to him. Their last evening together had ended rather poorly. Well, several of them had recently, but his words from their last night together kept haunting her today.

She had just closed the book and set it on the small side table to leave when he lowered his and stared at her. “It’s ten of ten; I have to go,” she said, rising from her seat. “I’ll try to come up on Saturday, but I need to meet with Blake tomorrow and work with Lawrence on Friday.”

“Hermione,” he said in the deep drawl he used when angry.

She looked over at him, wondering what the problem was. “What?”

He stood up, his hands curled and then relaxed at his sides. “Why do you refuse to spend time with me?”

“I spend time with you,” she protested.

“You spend more time with your friends than with me – your Bonded mate,” he said coolly, then his tone became even and low. “As per our agreement you’re to spend evenings and weekends with me, but I’ve been lenient with you due to your studies. However, I have told you repeatedly that I want you here. With me.”

“I’ve been with you every night this week.” She could see the tick in his cheek from gritting his teeth in frustration.

“Hermione, it is expected that when magical betrothal charms are used to bind a couple, that the couple be allowed an adjustment period to get to know one another. It’s not uncommon for the couple to live in separate rooms of the same domicile, or to have the witch move into the home of the wizard’s family. I do believe that Mrs. Longbottom had Luna Longbottom move in with her during the adjustment period – just as I allowed you to reside with Harry Potter during yours. And only because I knew that he would have no interest in you in a sexual nature due to his own Bonding with your friend Ginevra. I’ve been more than patient with you.”

She pointed out, “Luna returned to school just as I have and no one is stopping her…” then held up her hands and closed her eyes for a second. She didn’t want to fight him over this.

“It not the same,” he said.

“It is very much the same,” she stated and instantly regretted it.

The thing was she liked being in the dorm now that the girls accepted her. Alestra, Wendlynne, and Veronica had become her friends; Sunita had finally started treating her like a normal girl and not some celebrity, and she and Ginny – she loved sharing her evenings with Ginny. They were closer now than ever. Nadine and Deborah – well, they were gossips and usually kept to their own space.

“I want to stay in the dorm with my friends,” she stated.

“Which I have allowed. All I’ve asked is that you spend evenings and the weekends with me because, as you so amply pointed out, you still see me as your stern, snarky professor. I have been more than generous, making allowances regarding your studies and revision times, but you still refuse to spend your evenings with me – we’ve yet to spend a weekend together. I have also abided by your wishes and have not pressed myself on you, physically. It’s you who hasn’t upheld the agreement we made,” he said softly and sternly.

The thing was, Ginny was asking her the same thing: “Why aren’t you spending more time with Severus?”

“I do,” Hermione replied as she checked Robberton’s theory of matter rearrangement against Smeltings’.

“Hardly, you have been spending only an hour with him on the nights you see him,” Ginny said, sitting crossed-legged at the foot of Hermione’s bed.

“No, sometimes I stay for two,” she replied, knowing that those times were far fewer.

Just last night when she’d returned to the dorm, Ginny had asked her why she was back so early.

“I have revision to do and essays…” she said for the umpteenth time.

“Gods, I’d give anything to have Harry here in the castle with me. I’d shag him senseless each night instead of sneaking out to shag in the Shrieking Shack.”

Hermione looked up in shock. “Gin!”

Ginny sighed, her gaze upward as she stared into space. “It’s been three weeks, and he’s sooo busy,” she said, closing her eyes. She opened them, and her gaze met Hermione’s. “I can’t believe that you’re not itching to spend the night with Severus. I don’t mean an hour or two, I mean all night! He’d allow it, I know he would.”

“Gin!”

“I can tell – you’re still holding back. Your still treating him like he’s a guy from another house, and you’re saving yourself. I mean, gods, Hermione, why? From what you’ve told me, the man can really kiss. Imagine what he could do if you’d let him. Merlin, what I wouldn’t give to have all night with Harry.”

“It’s not the same as with you and Harry…”

It wasn’t. She could still remember the soft gentle sounds coming from Ginny’s bed when they’d thought she’d been asleep. She could also recall the forcefulness of how it had been with Severus at the Manor and at his home in Spinner’s End. He’d taken her – it had been sex – not lovemaking. Sure it had been good when she’d visited him in jail – but really, sometimes he was just so… so… intense. Controlling. Demanding. It frightened her. Ron had never been like that – well, he’d never kissed her with such intensity. His kisses were sweet and gentle… and wet. And he’d told her he loved her. Every time. She knew he loved her – still loved her.

Augh! I can’t compare them. Severus isn’t Ron – they’re like night and day! A white knight and a rapscallion… no, a scoundrel. No, Severus is more like a… a black knight… or Byronic hero. The dark, brooding, enigmatic, romantic… As it is, I barely make curfew, for crying out loud! The last thing she wanted was to run into Filch after having an intense snog with Severus.

Making another furtive glance at the old Gaelic wizard, she moved down the aisle where he couldn’t see her and drew out another potions book. She turned to the index and scanned down the list of potions and ingredients. Some of the ingredients of the Médousa Potion were listed, but not the rarer ones.

“What are you reading?” Severus asked smoothly from behind her.

Startled, she tried to turn around, finding that he was standing so close she accidentally elbowed him. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m doing comparative research on the Medullaoblongata Potion,” she stated.

He leaned closer, his body pressed against hers. “It’s not in that book.” His head was right next to hers; his words, soft and deep, were spoken right next to her ear. “I thought that you and Ginevra were brewing the Verso-Quixotically and Polyjuice Potions.” His one hand now rested on the curve of her hip, and she could actually feel the heat of his hand even through her school robes.

“I – we are. I was – I’m interested in the Médousa Potion,” she stammered.

“That potion is not taught at Hogwarts,” he said, turning his head slightly, which only brought his lips closer to her ear. His other hand was now on her abdomen, effectively keeping her bum pressed against his front. “And there has been only a few successful attempts since its discovery.”

“Only a few successful attempts…” she repeated, distracted by his closeness and the realization that if she didn’t move she would feel his stiffening… She inhaled as she mentally shook off her train of thought. “But I thought that the potion was being used for medulloblastomas?”

“No, it’s not. The first batch was an experimentation. The creator, Barrett Muldoon, did manage to repeat it, and it’s use was documented, but he blew himself up not too long after. Most of his records were singed. That and he was notorious for being paranoid; he frequently used a variation of the Bedydrian Curse to hide the documentations of his experiments.”

Hermione tried to twist about to look at him. “It was a fluke?”

He took the book from her, and it levitated to its place on the shelf. “Most experiments are, at best, calculated risks. No matter how carefully you calculate the possible outcome or envision how the ingredients will react – in the end, it’s pure hypothesis, trial, error, and discovery. That is why it’s so frowned upon at Hogwarts – it’s very dangerous to experiment with potions.”

His voice was now smooth like silk, but she could sense the exhilarating thrill he must feel when experimenting by the tone of his voice. She turned around to face him, and his hands slid up on her rib cage under her robes as he pressed her against the pillar supporting the tall bookshelves. “Severus, we’ll be seen,” she protested. His lips brushed hers sensually. She rolled her eyes to try and see if anyone was at the end of the aisle, thankful that they were alone.

“I’m no adolescent, Hermione. I know how to be discreet. As for being observed, we are under the Dissimulata Charm and will be unnoticed. I could cast the Disillusionment Charm as well, if you’d like, but I rather enjoy watching your face.” His fingers brushed her breasts, making her inhale sharply and her gaze snap back to him.

“Severus, no not here,” she admonished him. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. “You’ll lose your job. Professor McGonagall said—”

“Do you really think that I would do this if I wasn’t absolutely sure that we’d not be seen?” he asked with a smirk.

She opened her mouth to protest, and he took advantage of her reaction by closing the short distance between them with a consuming kiss. His hand still cupped her breast; the other was at her waist, pinning her. His tongue stroked hers in a teasing dance, and his fingers made warm, kneading swirls even through her blouse and bra. “Do you have any idea how you make me feel?” he purred against her mouth.

“I have an inkling,” she replied, and her eyes closed as he leaned into her. Hermione tried to match the light, gentle probing of his tongue with hers. His responding moan sounded like a feral purr. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the heady feel his kisses gave her.

“I have to… revise,” she tried to tell him, running her fingers through his hair.

“If you come see me tonight, we’ll talk about your Potions project,” he said silkily against her cheek. He bent lower, kissing the soft skin of her breast between the open buttons of her blouse. She placed her hand on his shoulders to push him away, but it didn’t faze him as he ran kisses down her cleavage, pulling on her bra slightly so he could have more access to her tender flesh. He flicked her nipple under the edge of her bra with his tongue, sending more shock-like sensations shooting down her body to her core.

“Severus, please, I – I have to…” she said, and he captured her mouth with his, cutting her off. She closed her eyes, lost in his kiss, and her head fell back again against the pillar as he trailed kisses down her neck. Her cheek brushed his as she angled her head down, and his mouth claimed hers again. In the back of her consciousness, she heard the bell toll the hour. He stopped suddenly, and it took a second for her mind to register the fact and react.

He rested his forehead on hers, his breathing ragged against her skin. “If you come see me tonight, we’ll talk about your Potions project,” he repeated, his voice remarkably even.

She forced herself to think properly. “I have what I need for the Verso-Quixotically Potion and all my notes on the Polyjuice.”

He moved back as he tried to button her blouse. She shook her head as she took over for him. He’d had no problem undoing them, she mused ruefully.

“Why Reginald gave you Verso-Quixotically Potion as a project astounds me – it’s well below your skills,” he stated.

“What would you have given me?” she asked. She ignored the look of disappointment that flickered across his face as she tucked in her blouse, then straightened and smoothed down her robes. “I want to do the Médousa Potion.”

“The directions are incomplete,” he stated.

She looked up at him in shock. “What?”

“Every version of the Médousa Potion I have is based upon a translation from the original version. But they vary, likely because of the Bedydrian Curse. It appears to affect every version, magically copied or hand copied – it doesn’t matter – it’s there.” He stepped back slightly and crossed his arms.

“Professor Reynolds and I have been working on it, but we’ve been unable to determine the missing steps. That’s why the Medullaoblongata Potion is still being used: Barrett Muldoon died before he published his potion, and he was too paranoid to trust anyone with his work. Of the Potions masters known to have tried to brew the Médousa Potion: five were permanently incapacitated from the backlash of the curse, three were moderately successful, but they were unable to replicate their success, but there were two who were successful enough to be able to recreate a viable potion. Unfortunately, one of those two developed senile dementia and his notes on the directions were lost; and the other successful Potions master was murdered – by me.”

“Who?’ she asked, staring at him, dumbfounded by his confession. “Dumbledore? Did he…?”

“No, not Dumbledore; contrary to everyone’s belief – he didn’t know everything. It was Aramound Gruener, a pure-blood that defied the Dark Lord. He was also a close friend of Dumbledore’s and had been on friendly terms with Barrett Muldoon. His notes say that he found the missing ingredients, but it doesn’t say what it or they are,” he stated.

“But why did you kill him?” she asked as she mulled over his statement.

He sighed angrily.

She shook her head. She didn’t mean it the way it had come out. “No, I mean, was it because Vol – he told you to?”

Severus relaxed slightly. “Master Gruener was in the Order – indirectly – but involved. When I had to create poisons or potions for the Dark Lord, Master Gruener would brew the antidote for St Mungo’s. The Dark Lord had thought him to be a supporter. He felt betrayed and wanted him brought to him for punishment. The wizard was three hundred and fifty-nine and weak—”

“You made it quick and painless, where You-Know-Who wouldn’t have,” she finished for him.

“I had little choice, and he knew it. I was not alone,” he stated. He looked over her shoulder at the books as he continued. “Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Lucius were with me; Lucius was searching for him downstairs – Rodolphus and Bellatrix were coming up from his kitchen…” He met her gaze, but his eyes looked haunted. “He asked me to take all his books, notes, and journals – to finish his work – and begged me to be merciful.”

Hermione nodded in understanding; it was one of the ones he’d wanted to forget.

“I don’t want—”

She shook her head as she looked up at him. “No, it’s all right. If he asked you to take all his notes and journals, he must have known he was trapped… Is there any copy of Barrett Muldoon’s original parchment? The cursed one?”

“Master Kirkwell Ogden had one, but when he passed away, his writings were divided up between myself, Master Terrell, and Master Reynolds. Raymond Terrell apparently doesn’t have it, nor do I nor Professor Reginald. Reginald thinks the answers are among the annotations on the Medullaoblongata Potion in Master Ogden’s journal… but none of them have been successful so far.”

Hermione leaned back against the pillar and thought about what he’d just said. “The Bedydrian Curse disguises the text, even changing the variations. Mine showed us Elder Futhark, Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, Younger Futhark and Danish Rök runes…”

“What are you babbling about?” he asked, scowling and his eyes narrowing. “I’m quite capable of handling the Bedydrian Curse.”

She looked up at him and smirked. “You are, yes. You are well versed in the Dark Arts and Charms. But is Master Terrell or Professor Reynolds?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead he kissed her, a long, searing kiss, then wished her a good day and left. Hermione let out a deep sigh and turned back to her research, only this time for the Verso-Quixotically Potion.

~ T B C ~>

Author’s notes:

I want to thank Arabellabloodgood, my alpha-reader, and my betas, WriterMerrin, EverMystique and DuchessOfArcadia, for giving this a read and helping me clean up all my mistakes. I really appreciate it very much.

Thank you also to Jay for my beautiful banner. I really love it!