Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

It should have been easy, should have been simple.

For the first time in his life, Severus was intimidated by the prospect of teaching. They were only a bunch of seventeen-year-old children and he was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, his favourite subject. He knew the curriculum, knew it inside out. Compared to spying on the Dark Lord, teaching shouldn't have even rated on his terror scale.

But it was far from easy, miles away from simple.

He'd kissed Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's resident know-it-all, Potter's substitute brain, Weasley's substitute mother, and his, well, substitute Lily, if he were to be honest with himself. At least, he could only assume that was what she was, after his grave error two nights ago.

He'd called her Lily. Even the thought of it made his stomach churn and heated his cheeks.

But had he really been thinking of Lily?

Yes, he had. But he had also been thinking about Hermione. It was her hair in his hands. It was her full lips he had kissed. It was she who haunted his dreams and tormented his fantasies.

But none of that mattered. He'd called her Lily and she'd bolted like a Seeker who'd seen the Snitch.

Maybe his error had just brought her to her senses, made her realise what she was doing. Kissing her teacher, kissing a Death Eater, kissing a fool. Kissing him.

It didn't matter. It was only a matter of time before his entire world would shatter and he did not intend to break her with it. She wouldn't want him now, anyway. And that was making the very large assumption that she ever had.

Closing his eyes briefly, he drew a deep breath. Just get it over with. He swooped across the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, yanked open the door to the corridor and ordered the students in. And refused to look at her.

They shuffled in, silently taking their seats.

"How is an Inferius identified?"

The moment the question had left his mouth, he'd regretted it. Even though he was looking at the blackboard where the charmed chalk was writing 'Inferi: Identification' he could already imagine Hermione waving her hand around impatiently, waiting to be called on. He would be asking no more questions during this class.

"Miss–" He turned around, and stopped. She wasn't bouncing out of her seat in enthusiasm to answer his question. In fact, she was bent over her textbook, her hair falling in a fluff of frizz over her eyes.

Oh gods. What had he done?

Looking around the classroom, silently praying someone else would answer his question, he could see the equal surprise on her classmates' faces, all of whom were staring at her. Potter even elbowed her and hissed, "Hermione, he asked a question!"

She shook her head briefly, shrugging Potter off.

He didn't wait for any longer for an answer. "There are not necessarily any signs that someone is an Inferius. Certainly, they lack personality, but then so do most of you. Of course, if the body has been deceased for any length of time, the smell should be warning enough."

Faces paled around the classroom, but Hermione's head stayed buried in her book. Severus drew an angry, self-loathing breath.

"That might just be the stench emanating from the Quidditch changing rooms after Gryffindor's team has been practising," Draco quipped.

The sniggers from the Slytherin section of the classroom did nothing to make him feel better.

The class went on and, by the end of it, Severus felt as if he hadn't really been there. Certainly, he'd informed them about Inferi, warned them, told them everything they needed to know, but he felt detached by the whole scene. And not once did Hermione look at him.

He went to dismiss the class, only to spy the essays on his desk. He had to stop this, had to stop dwelling on her, it was distracting him too much. But he couldn't; she wouldn't leave his mind. With a flick of his wand, the essays zoomed through the air, landing on their owner's desks.

"For your homework you will write twelve inches identifying Inferi, the precautions to be taken and when not to approach one."

The class scrambled for the door. All of them. All except Hermione who sat there staring at her parchment.

A wash of terror overcame Severus. He'd never changed her mark, it still bore the blood red T. Even from his desk, he could see where the ink had seeped through the parchment.

She got to her feet, stuffed the parchment angrily in her bag and went to leave.

He couldn't do it, couldn't let her go thinking her essay had been that bad, that he was that petty.

He drew a shaky breath. "A word, Miss Granger."

She looked at him for the first time all class. She glanced at the door and for a moment he thought she was going to simply walk out. She stood there, seemingly torn for what felt like an eternity, but finally, and with an impatient tut, she turned away from the door and approached his desk. He shouldn't have done that, he should have gone to her, given her something instead of demanding her presence.

"Yes, sir?"

Her voice was quieter than usual, but crisp. Severus felt his heart wrenching. When had she slipped under his skin, begun to mean so much to him? Two days ago he might have described this feeling as simply a physical attraction, a longing to touch someone and she'd become that someone. Now– now he was being ripped apart, and it was all his fault.

"I believe I put the wrong mark on your parchment," he said, his voice coming out stiffly. "If I could have it back for a moment?"

She stared sharply back at him before silently handed over the essay. He transformed the T into an O with his wand, and handed it back.

"Thank you." He had never known her to be so to the point, usually her endless ranting was enough to put him to sleep. She turned to leave, walking briskly over to the door.

He couldn't just let her go, couldn't let her leave on these terms. He took two long strides across the classroom. "Hermione?"

She turned around and looked up at him, those big brown eyes filled with confusion and what he took as a hint of anger. He rubbed irritably at his brow.

"I'm sorry for the other night. I'm sorry... sorry I called you... her." Merlin, he'd been reduced to using the 's' word.

Hermione briefly closed her eyes. "It's fine."

He reached out and lifted her chin, but her eyes shifted from him to the floor. He sighed and let her go. "It's not 'fine'. It's far from fine! You are my student, I am your professor! I shouldn't have... have done that!"

"No, probably not," she said, with a little shrug. "Perhaps it's best we just forget it."

How could she be so dismissive? Maybe he'd read her all wrong, maybe she really didn't care. Maybe she'd felt compelled to kiss him back out of a sense of duty to the Order, to her schoolwork, to any number of pathetic reasons that all amounted to her probably having found the entire experience utterly loathsome.

But as much as he wanted to, as much as he knew her advice was sound, he couldn't take it. He couldn't just forget that kiss, couldn't forget the way his traitorous body reacted, couldn't forget that it had been the most pleasant thing he'd experienced in years. And he couldn't forget how much he simply wanted her.

"If I made you uncomfortable, I apologise," he finally said, his arms falling to his sides in defeat.

"You didn't make me uncomfortable. I–" She looked at him finally, seemed to be choosing her words carefully as her eyes scrutinised his, as if she was trying to get inside his mind. "I quite enjoyed it. But you're right, it was wrong."

She paused for a moment, and when he made no reply, she added, "I'm sorry." But something in her eyes told him different, something there screamed she wanted him just as badly. Why? Why would she want him? And why was she apologising to him as if she'd done something wrong?

Severus decided to stop thinking.

"Very wrong," he murmured in agreement, and even as the words left his mouth, he was bending down, lifting her chin again, pressing his lips against hers. So silky, so soft, so inviting. She tasted of breakfast, and that was quite all right by him. But he had to know, had to know he wasn't just taking advantage of his position. He released her mouth, dropping his kisses down to her neck.

"Hermione?" he asked against her bare skin.

"Mm?" The sound left her as a small moan and she tilted her head to allow him better advantage. And he took it, nipping at her neck, teasing her skin. Who would have thought Hermione Granger would be such a closet sensualist? Then again, he doubted anyone ever thought of him in such a light.

"Do you really want this? Do you really want me?" He braced himself for the answer. Even in his current position, drawing little murmurs from her as he kissed her neck, he fully expected her to say no.

She inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "Yes."

His heart leapt for a moment as her hands drifted across his back, but he quickly felt his hope sinking again as he once more made the mistake of thinking.

"But I'm old, I'm horrid–" He paused, not wanting to admit to the last, but he never wanted a repeat of that night with Lily, never. "I'm a Death Eater."

"You're not that old," she said, her voice breathy, "and you're a spy, not a Death Eater."

He paused. "And as for the horrid part?"

She let out a laugh in reply that reverberated through him. "Well, I'm not arguing about that."

Severus pulled back and looked at her, her smile was contagious. He felt the corners of his mouth pulling up, felt the first real smile in... in a very long time. "Cheeky wench," he retorted.

She made him feel so comfortable, more comfortable than he had been since Lily. No, he was not going to think about Lily now. She was dead and gone. Why dwell on what can't be had when he had such a lithe, young, willing witch in his arms? And all the more, one who could keep up with his mind, who could make him smile. One he knew could have his heart, something Severus did not give away lightly. He moved to the other side of her neck, paying it the same attention as the first.

"I'm not a nice man, Hermione."

"I do have my own indiscretions... sir."

"Severus."

She paused, then spoke his name. "Severus." Oh, it sounded so lovely from her lips!

"Hermione Granger has her own indiscretions?" he said, trying to concentrate. "Staying out after curfew a few times does not count."

She paused. "You want the whole list? How about we stick to the things I've done to you?"

He pulled back from her and quirked an eyebrow. Things she'd done to him?

"I stole ingredients from your storeroom and brewed Polyjuice Potion in my second year."

So it had been her!

"I set fire to your robes in my first."

He tried to be angry at that, but he couldn't. Not with her here in his arms.

"Third, I laughed so hard I nearly cried when Neville's Boggart transformed into you wearing a green dress and a vulture-topped hat. Fourth year I called you a colourful array of obscenities when you commented, or should I say, failed to comment on my hexed teeth."

Damn, he remembered that.

"Fifth, I eavesdropped on you at Headquarters. And in my sixth year," she said shakily, tentatively running a hand over his chest, "I kissed you."

And she did. Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips against his, and he let her take her own pace. She was tentative at first, simply brushing over his lips with her own, but soon her arms were around his neck, lips parted, tongue darting in and seeking out his. Her fingers felt so nice teasing the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, light and feathery touches that sent zings of electricity through him. Her mouth melded around his. Slowly, as she relaxed into him, her movements becoming more fevered.

Severus scooped her off the floor and, stumbling a little across the room, backed her up against the blackboard. His body pressed against hers, her legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer. Again he could feel his erection throbbing against her. It wasn't just about that though, she made him happy, made him comfortable. Made him forget all his worries. Made the outside world disappear–

"What is the meaning of this?!"

Severus tore his mouth from Hermione and looked back over his shoulder.

The Headmaster stood in the doorway.

Eyes wide, heart thumping, Severus took in the scene. He'd just been caught practically dry humping a student. No, not just a student, Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age, Gryffindor's golden girl and, not that it mattered to him, but to his associates, a Muggle-born. And to make matters worse, the Headmaster was not alone. Draco Malfoy was with him, his mouth hanging open in horror. Oh gods, he'd been caught kissing Gryffindor's resident know-it-all and Potter's ally. The Dark Lord would Avada Kedavra him, if he were lucky. He felt his world fall seemingly impossibly further apart.

Hermione struggled against him until she slid down the blackboard to her feet, where she pushed away from him, putting plenty of space between them, as if he'd burned her.

"Severus. My office. Now."

Severus couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the Headmaster so angry.

Dumbledore looked at Hermione. "I will speak to you later, Miss Granger."

*****

Severus turned his face to stone, to his trained, impassive look.

"What on earth were you thinking, my boy? I had to Confund Malfoy!"

"Yes, sir."

"Well?"

"Well, well–" Severus stuttered. "I suppose you want me to promise it won't happen again?"

"That would be a start!"

"I can't do that. She makes me happy! Do you have any idea how long it has been since I was happy? Do you?" Severus spat accusingly.

"Happy does not factor into any of this. Once the war is over–"

"Once the war is over I will be dead!"

"And what use will you be to her then?" Dumbledore bellowed. Then he leant back in his chair, his voice calming. "She's not Lily, Severus. All you are doing is confusing one intelligent young lady, one who needs all of her wits about her to help protect Harry. Do you not remember why you are protecting Harry?"

"For Lily," Severus said with a sigh. "I can't forget, I can never forget."

"Then leave Hermione be. Let her concentrate on helping Harry, she does not need the distraction."

*****

Lily sat in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk. She was worried. She could see the toll taken, could see the age in the old man's eyes, could see the way he cradled his blackened hand.

"And no one suspects anything?" Dumbledore prodded.

"No, sir," she said tensely.

"Then let us keep it that way."

"I don't see why we can't just tell him, I don't see why–" Lily pleaded with him. Everything was all too complicated.

"Why? Because Severus has been set a task, Lily. One he must complete."

"But – but– he's falling for Hermione Granger!" Lily protested. "You saw him–"

Dumbledore looked at her sternly. "Isn't Harry's survival more important than any sentiments you may have for Severus? Once the war is over–"

"Once the war is over? This war is never over!" she screamed at him. He didn't reply, simply watched her. Defeated, she sunk back in her chair, fiddling nervously with her hair. "Sorry."

"Quite all right," Dumbledore said softly. "Lily, Severus must complete his task."

"What? You expect Severus to...to..." But she couldn't say it, could barely bring herself to think of her Severus as a murderer.

"Do what you can, Lily. Draco must not be seen to succeed. It must be Severus."

Lily sighed. "Why? Why can't I do it?" She looked at him and felt despicable. She'd just begged the old man to let her kill him, kill Dumbledore, the wizard who'd risked everything to save Harry. "It's just Severus, he's suffered so much–"

"And this is his chance to redeem himself."

"How much more redemption does he need to seek? He's spent his life spying for you!"

"Yes. And he's spent his life protecting Harry for you," Dumbledore added quietly.

The painful truth tore through her. Lily closed her eyes. "All right. I will do what I can."

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AN: Many hugs and kisses to my lovely beta :D