57- Betrayal

Standard Disclaimer goes here.

Author's Note: Profound thanks go out to my lovely beta, Ladyofthemasque, as well as SnivellusSnape, Bewarethesmirk, and Horserider, for feedback. We've reached another benchmark in the journey in this chapter, and as usual, I'm all sorts of hands-wringing antsy over it. At any rate, thanks again to all you fine folk for reading and reviewing and all your continued support. *hugs*

Nicole aka Good_Witch :)

Chapter 57- Betrayal

Tuesday evening brought the sing-through for Act Two, and several of the students were nervous about the costume spell practice slated for after the rehearsal. So worried were the seventh-year Gryffindor boys that, every night since the last rehearsal, they had been practicing in their dorm before bed. Unfortunately, Ron and Neville were still having trouble occasionally, which led to their current state of anxiety at dinner Tuesday night.

Susan had come over to the Gryffindor table to lend moral support to Ron, who was muttering his spells under his breath and practicing the wand movements, brow furrowed in concentration. Neville was a few seats over, eyes closed in focus as he mouthed his spells silently. Dean and Seamus were nearby, offering encouragement.

Hermione had run through her spells in the privacy of her room the previous weekend, delighting in the sumptuous gowns and adornments. Of course, she had no trouble with hers, and she was quietly watching her mates stewing over their spells while inwardly mourning the fact that she was not going to be spending time with Snape before rehearsal.

Snape sat at the High Table, quite on the verge of sulking. He hadn't yet heard back from Slug and Jiggers, and he was still yearning for Hermione. Gazing sourly over his charges, he realized that his Slytherins weren't practicing their costume spells, while the Gryffindors were clearly concerned about theirs. Sniffing in irritation, not wanting to give McGonagall any opportunity to gloat over her House, he rose and stalked down to the long table, forbidding gaze boring into Draco, Pansy, and Millicent.

Hermione watched Snape striding down the far aisle, wondering what was wrong. Ginny had noticed him as well, and she, too, stared after him curiously.

Draco looked up to see the tall, dark form of his Head of House bearing down on him and felt a flash of surprise and apprehension. Was he in trouble? Snape sure didn't look happy...but then again, he didn't often. Combing his memory for any inkling of what he might have done to warrant a public reprimand, he came up empty, gazing blankly up at the older man.

Pansy and Millicent, seated just beyond Draco, snapped wary attention to Snape, steeling themselves for a blast of his infamous venom.

Snape stopped short, drawing himself up stiffly and peering down his nose at the seated students. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, Miss Bulstrode... Tonight's rehearsal will conclude with a practice of the costume spells for everyone. Clearly, other students on cast..." he pointedly slid his eyes toward the Gryffindor table "...are making use of their time in preparation. It gave me cause to wonder why my students were not as industriously occupied." As he finished, he crossed his arms imposingly and arched one eyebrow, inclining his head toward the trio, awaiting an answer.

Pansy elbowed Draco, who flicked an irritated glance at her over his shoulder before speaking up. "Sir, we have practiced before. I assure you that we will be able to cast our spells correctly when necessary." His pompous air slid away as a sneer twisted his lips and he shot a disdainful look at the Gryffindor table. "Suffice to say that Slytherins have been successful long before now."

Snape's eyes narrowed and he fought back a smirk at the boy's ingrained House loyalty. Tone bored, he retorted, "Be that as it may, Mr. Malfoy, I wish to take no chances on your performance this evening. Thus, I require that you all demonstrate your spells for me this instant."

With a hasty nod, Pansy struggled to her feet, hampered on both sides by Draco and Millicent, who were not as quick on the uptake. Snape inclined his head approvingly and raised his eyebrows, indicating that he was waiting. With a deep breath, Pansy methodically worked through all of her costumes, never missing a beat.

Snape's lips quirked in a satisfied smirk and he nodded approval at the girl, who flushed and smiled, slipping back into her seat.

"Well done, Miss Parkinson. Three points to Slytherin."

"Thank you, Professor Snape." Her expression turned smug as she preened.

Millicent had glanced soberly at Snape for permission to begin, and tentatively cast her spells. Snape averted his eyes quickly at the unappealing sight of her in her ballerina costume, but made note of the fact that she had not made any mistakes. Nodding again, he said, "Good. Three points to Slytherin, Miss Bulstrode."

Millicent nodded her thanks, then spoke up. "Sir, I have been practicing the charm on the ballet slippers, too. I can do all the ballet moves perfectly." At Snape's nod of acknowledgement, the square-jawed girl took her seat beside Pansy, still looking glum but relieved at the same time. Draco stood gracefully, an expression of superiority on his face.

With an air of boredom that clearly gave the impression that casting the spells was hardly worth practicing, Draco whipped through each successive costume, ending with a maddening smirk as he drawled, "Unlike those two..." tilting his head toward Ron and Neville "...this pureblood knows what he's doing."

Snape's eyes narrowed again, anger spiking through him at the boy's constant arrogance. As if there was anything to the notion of pureblood superiority... Hadn't Riddle's misguided ideals caused enough pain and destruction? Besides, if there was ever an example of how new blood improved the stock, Hermione Granger was it...brilliant, clever, powerful, and the first witch ever in her family. Glaring at the pale boy, Snape rewound back to Millicent's comment about her ballet slippers. Eyes flashing wickedly, startling the girls, who were still paying attention, unlike Draco, Snape murmured, "In that case, Mr. Malfoy, why don't you demonstrate your glamour as well?"

Draco blanched and his face fell. Snape's lips twitched in suppressed triumph. Reluctance saturating his voice, Draco queried, "Here, sir? Now?"

Unmoving, Snape repeated, in a tone of grim finality, "Here. Now."

Draco frowned. Sucking in a breath, he thought for a long moment. Finally, Snape growled dangerously, "One point from Slytherin for wasting my time, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco blinked rapidly and settled his shoulders, attempting the glamour. The result flickered and wavered, causing Draco to eye Snape fearfully. Behind him, the girls held their breath in dismay. Draco ended the glamour, trying again. It was more definitive this time, but he seemed to swell and shrink, looking like a throbbing balloon.

By this time, students all over the Hall were watching, tuned into the spectacle by the rarity of Snape approaching his charges during a meal. Laughter rippled through the space at Draco's attempts. His pale face flushed in humiliation and anger. Darting a glance at the Gryffindor table, he saw Harry and the other boys pointing and laughing.

Determined to get it right, he scowled, trying again. It worked. Of course, that meant that he looked like he was inflating into a rotund caricature of himself. Even the successful attempt invited more sniggers and guffaws. He looked like a cross between Crabbe and Hagrid for size. Pansy, in a valiant attempt to mitigate the ridicule her boyfriend was facing, shot to her feet and cast her glamour, too, also casting one of her costume spells, so she looked like Carlotta, instead of a massive Pansy in Hogwarts robes.

Snape tilted his head to one side at her gesture, pursing his lips. Dropping his arms brusquely, he said, "Enough. Clearly, you do not know what you're doing, Mr. Malfoy. Two more points from Slytherin for neglecting your assignment." He swept a disgusted glance over the humiliated boy before turning to Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, two more points to Slytherin for demonstration of such a successful grasp of your glamour. However, I feel compelled to tell you that, while I can understand your motives for demonstrating it unasked, I do think that you could find a target more worthy of your... loyalty." He cut an acid glance back at Draco, who had ended his glamour and was glaring balefully at the still tittering students.

Pansy ducked her head, flushed at the thinly veiled insult, and ended her glamour, sitting quickly. Snape cast an appraising look over the Hall, seeing the laughing faces, and felt a flare of satisfaction for managing to get back at Draco for his ridiculous attitude. Still, there was one more thing he could do...

Snape spun on his heel, looking as if he were going to leave, and Draco flopped back into his seat in a sulk. But, Snape whirled back, closing in on Draco and leaning down behind his ear to murmur, "Oh, and two more points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, for disobeying me. I believe I told you to keep such sentiments to yourself. Need I remind you: keep your mouth shut, else I'll shut it for you." Draco stiffened, and Snape smirked. Continuing in a low voice, he said, "That's five points your arrogance has lost your House. I daresay you should be grateful that your girlfriend has exhibited better sense and skill than you, and has managed to counter your losses. Learn from your mistakes, Mr. Malfoy, before it is too late."

With that parting shot, he spun and glided away, resuming his place at the High Table, waiting for dinner to end and rehearsal to begin. Dumbledore spared a glance at him and said, "Trouble, Severus?"

Flicking his fingers dismissively, Snape retorted, "Nothing I can't handle, Albus, thank you."

Dumbledore grunted in amusement and returned to his custard. Snape's minute satisfaction at having taken Draco down a peg faded as he looked over at Hermione, who sat listlessly at the Gryffindor table, looking nearly as melancholy as he felt. She caught his eye and managed a half-hearted shrug of resignation.

Heaving a discontented sigh, Snape inclined his head and made a cup of tea, lip curling faintly at the fleeting smile it brought to Hermione's face. They both sipped silently as dinner waned.

When the rest of the students had left, and Dumbledore had arranged the circle of chairs for the cast, he Summoned the orchestral accompaniment. Much like the previous week, many in the cast fidgeted as they began the sing-through, feeling constrained without the outlet for movement. Fortunately, also like the previous run-through, there were very few mistakes or miscues, likely because the second Act was so much fresher in their minds. As the practice wore on, a noticeable sense of relaxation emerged within the group, demonstrating the comfort they felt with the material by this point.

Thus, it wasn't until after they finished that the anxiety level palpably rose again. After waxing effusive about the cast's efforts, Dumbledore grinned challengingly at them and said, "Now, Professor McGonagall and I will be reviewing your costume spells before you may leave. Everyone stand up and be ready!"

Students shot to their feet, some more enthusiastically than others. Snape snapped a warning look at his Slytherins, and Draco looked away, sullen, while Pansy and Millicent took deep breaths and nodded acknowledgment of the unspoken caution.

After a brief, whispered consultation, McGonagall and Dumbledore began their tour through the group. In an effort to save time, McGonagall called several of them forth as a group...such as the ballerinas...and had them all cast the same costume spells at the same time. Meanwhile, Dumbledore went to individuals.

Snape and Trelawney stood to one side, watching. Snape saw that Millicent had performed her spells correctly again with McGonagall, and Dumbledore was going over Harry's spells first. He rolled his eyes as he thought, Of course he'd start with Potter.

Once McGonagall had finished with the groups of costumes, she began working her way through that portion of the cast one by one. Hermione watched, a faint smile on her face, as first Lavender, then, Parvati, Susan, Hannah, and Luna demonstrated their costumes.

Dumbledore had finished with Harry and had moved on to Ron and Neville. Their expressions were of fierce concentration as they cast their spells, and their relief at their success was comical. When they had finished, Dumbledore turned to Draco, who flicked a swift glance at Snape before performing his spells. At Dumbledore's approval, Draco smirked, chest puffing out in pride. Pansy took her turn, and then Dumbledore asked them to cast their glamours.

Draco's smug expression faltered, but he schooled himself to remain impassive as he faultlessly cast the glamour, Pansy doing the same at his side. Snape nodded, crossing his arms in grim satisfaction. At Dumbledore's urging, they went through their costumes again, so he could see how they adapted to the glamours. Draco's eyes kept turning defiantly toward the rest of the cast, expecting more laughter, but they were too busy with their own spells to worry about him.

Smiling his approval, Dumbledore dismissed Draco and Pansy and turned to look over the group. Seeing Hermione available, he beckoned to her to join him. She hurried over and nodded as she cast her spells.

Snape stared at her, unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle of her in such a variety of beautiful costumes. Gripping his arms tight against his chest, he didn't realize that he had been holding his breath until it burst out of him. McGonagall had worked her way through those nearest her and turned to look for who else was left. Seeing Snape's gaze trained unblinkingly in one direction, she sought the target and saw Hermione practicing her spells.

Pursing her lips to suppress the gloating smile at her charge's apparent skill, McGonagall crossed to Snape. "Well, Severus, as Albus has already addressed one of our leads, why don't you show me your costumes again?"

Snape blinked and wrenched his attention from Hermione at the first sound of McGonagall's voice. Hoping he didn't look guilty, he grimaced and said, "I do not have the mask at the moment. Besides, you know I can cast my costume spells already."

McGonagall eyed him intently and said, with a determinedly sweet lilt, "Why, Severus, wouldn't you want to set a good example for your students?" The challenge in her face was unmistakable, and Snape knew she would needle him about it for the rest of his days if he didn't comply.

Drawing himself up in frosty superiority, he murmured, "I shall be right back," and Disapparated.

Snatching his mask from the table, Snape Apparated back to the Hall, smirking at the slight jump that betrayed how much he had startled McGonagall with his abrupt departure and return. Donning the mask, he held her gaze as he cast his first costume spell. Then, steeling himself for the ordeal of being completely clad in unrelenting scarlet, he cast the spell for his Red Death costume. Shooting a glance toward Hermione, he saw her beaming at him, having already finished her spells and enjoying watching him.

Finally, he cast his last spell, pulling the hood forward and casting his glamour under his breath before he gripped his mask and pushed it back over his forehead, shoving the hood back with it. The sudden appearance of his disfigured face made McGonagall wince and grimace in horror, which made Snape smirk, twisting the hideous features even more. Pleased that he had managed to make her uncomfortable, Snape sketched a little mocking bow to McGonagall and ended the spells, returning to his normal self.

McGonagall cut him an acid look, wrinkling her nose, but said, "Excellent, as always, Severus."

Snape snorted, understanding that she was calling an end to this particular skirmish, and responded to her peace offering with a drawled, "Well, I did learn from the best."

After a beat of silent astonishment at his rejoinder, McGonagall burst out laughing, noting the wicked gleam in Snape's eyes and the telltale twitch of his lips as he studiously suppressed a grin. Shaking her head fondly, she said, "A compliment. From you. My, but you have changed since you were my student."

She was rather taken aback by the abruptly solemn response as he said, "People change as they grow up," his eyes unfocusing a bit before fleetingly glancing toward Hermione and then back to the middle distance. A beat later, he seemed to come back to himself, his black eyes once again snapping with energy as he briskly said, "I trust that we're done here?"

McGonagall stared thoughtfully at him as she nodded. "Indeed. Good night, Severus." Raking him with one last appraising look, she turned to Trelawney while Dumbledore finished up with the remaining students.

Snape stood there, gazing about at the knots of students buzzing with low conversations. Dumbledore called to the ballerinas to gather and demonstrate their enchanted dancing, and Snape took that as his cue to leave, before he could be drawn into any more confrontations with McGonagall. Heaving a sigh of regret, he cast one last look at Hermione, who was focused on her dance steps, and Disapparated to his quarters.

******* *********

Wednesday morning, cast members saw a note on the notice board:

"Friday March 13: Dress run-through: Act One

Everyone required to attend."

Hermione smiled in anticipation, not only for the rehearsal itself, but for the chance to meet with Snape beforehand as well. Her insatiable curiosity wanted to know what his "project" was, and she was fully prepared to prod him about it in the hopes that he'd cave and tell her about it. Granted, that made her think about her secret "project," and a wanton thrill coursed through her.

Several times in Potions class that morning, Hermione cast heated glances at Snape, making him pulse with flashes of desire, wondering what was causing her heady behaviour. The vehement wish that the school year were over already resounded in his head.

When class was over, she dallied in gathering her things, waiting until the room was empty except for the two of them. Then, pinning Snape with a fiery gaze, she murmured, "I miss you."

Snape glanced warily at the doorway before whispering, "And I, you."

Hermione bit her lip, looking at him calculatingly, then she flashed him a wicked grin. Snape's brows lowered and his eyes narrowed. The expression on her face was far more Slytherin than should be seen on a Gryffindor, and he eyed her suspiciously.

His misgivings were spot on, as she ducked her head to peer coquettishly up at him through her lashes, trailing the tip of her tongue over her lips with deliberate slowness. Snape's hands clenched on the desktop, and he glared at her dangerously, breathing harshly through his nose at the obviously planned tease.

Smirking delightedly, Hermione tilted her head and lilted, "I do miss you, love... all of you." The suggestive note in her voice made his trousers suddenly much tighter. Raking him with a languid once-over, she sucked her lower lip in, closing her eyes and exhaling a low moan as she licked her lips again, opening her eyes to see Snape gazing at her, shock, fierce reprimand, pleasure, lust, and desperate control blazing in his eyes.

She knew it was cruel and tormenting to do it, but ever since she had set her plan into action, she had been on a sexual high, and she couldn't seem to help herself. The slightest thing could send her mind in that direction, and she once again found herself with damp knickers all the time. The erotic bliss she had invoked with her explorations simmered within her, and she couldn't help but want to awaken that same feeling in Snape so that they might revel in it when next they met.

The rational part of her mind chided her that she was flip-flopping again about how she and Snape should behave, and what they should and shouldn't allow themselves to do. But, after she had begun including penetration in her masturbatory fantasies, systematically attempting to rid herself of any physical barrier indicating her technical virginity, she had come to crave it, experimenting with different spells listed in that book, and trying to expand the makeshift toy a little more each time.

It had only been a few days since she had begun, but she had apparently hit her own slippery slope. Before Snape could master himself enough to respond, Hermione snatched up her bag and dashed out of the room, a throaty giggle trailing behind her.

Snape's eyes widened at the sound. Bloody teasing minx! What in blazes has got into her? That's just plain heartless, and you can be damned sure I'll tell her so Friday evening! Shifting furtively in his chair, he freed his erection from the pinch of his trousers, breathing deeply and willing it to go away.

Closing his eyes and heaving a long-suffering sigh, he sent a silent plea to the powers that be for time to move faster.

******** ********

Friday morning, Snape looked up anxiously at the owl arrowing toward him. His patience was wearing thin, waiting to hear back from Slug and Jiggers. Thus, when he retrieved the missive from the owl, a stab of excitement shot through him at the sight of the return address on the envelope. Clutching it like a talisman, he quaffed the rest of his tea and hastily cleared his place, so eager to leave to read their response that he considered Apparating from the High Table. Prudence intervened, and he tried to calm himself, at least outwardly. Dumbledore was eyeing him curiously, and, while there was nothing suspicious about a Potions Master receiving post from an Apothecary, his reactions could certainly draw undue attention.

His tone mild, Dumbledore queried, "Anything important, Severus?"

Snape doggedly wiped his face of expression and coolly replied, "Just something I have been waiting for." Rising from his seat, he added, "Good day to you," briskly striding toward the staff entrance.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed shrewdly as he watched him go, but he merely uttered a pleasant, "And to you, my dear boy."

Once outside the Hall, Snape Disapparated to his sitting room, ripping the envelope open and pacing in front of the hearth. His eyes sparked with excitement, and his expression was one of eager hope as he began to read.

"To: Severus Snape, Potions Master, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Messrs. Slug and Jiggers, Apothecaries"

Snape stopped, his eyes racing over the page again, not willing to believe what he had just read. Hot and cold washed over him in turn, and he sank bonelessly into his chair, blank with shock. His stomach clenched painfully, and his cheeks flushed in shame.

He wasn't good enough.

Swallowing against the constriction of his throat, he blinked furiously, trying to breathe steadily, and fighting the hot prickle of moisture beneath his eyelids.

Glancing at the letter again, in the vain hope that it had somehow changed, he ground his teeth, crumpling the parchment into a tight ball before hurling it into the fireplace. Slamming back into the chair, his eyes closed as his brow furrowed and his lips thinned. Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, his hands flew up to rake through his hair, gripping his head as he curled forward, propping his elbows on his knees and exhaling heavily through his mouth. He stared at the floor, dragging in ragged breaths, writhing in humiliation and self-disgust.

Thank Merlin I never told Hermione about this. How dreadfully mortifying it would be to have to tell her I can't even find a new job! Again, he swallowed against the gorge rising from his roiling stomach. I don't understand! Everything else was so cordial and complimentary; why would they turn me down? What more could they want?

He remained that way for several long minutes before wrenching himself up and glancing at the time.

Bollocks! The students will be arriving any minute...

Heaving to his feet, he shuffled through his lab and office, pausing at the door to the classroom and leaning against the jamb morosely. He scowled at the students who were entering, wishing that Hermione had class that day, so he could at least have had the comfort of seeing her. But, he'd have to wait until after dinner instead.

Granted, he didn't plan on telling her why he was so upset, but he didn't necessarily think it mattered, as just being with her could ease his soul. Besides, he could always just blame his dispirited state on their situation. Merlin knows it was bad enough to depress anyone.

******* *******

Snape didn't bother with lunch. He didn't feel like eating anyway. He spent his free time slouching in his chair before the fire, feet propped on the ottoman and fingers steepled pensively against his lips as he stared unseeingly into the flames. In his mind, the unexpected rejection spun round and round, just as his bewildered questions followed it in circles.

When it was dinner time, he went to the Great Hall, not because he was hungry, but because he wanted to be there to collect Hermione as soon as was reasonably expected. Forcing down a few bites, he gave up the attempt and simply brewed his tea, still brooding.

Dumbledore cut a sidelong glance at him and nodded faintly to himself. A flicker of a satisfied smirk went unnoticed by the distracted man beside him. Twirling noodles on his fork, Dumbledore ventured, "Are you all right, Severus?"

Snape huffed in irritation and growled a terse, "Yes."

Undeterred, Dumbledore continued, "Did something go wrong with your project?" He eyed Snape keenly.

Snape twitched and scowled even deeper. Sucking in a measured breath, he bit out, "It's no concern of yours, Albus. Leave me be."

Dumbledore rolled his eyes at Snape's tone and said, "You're not going to let whatever it is affect you in rehearsal, are you?"

Snape grimaced and snapped, "No. I'll be fine."

Dumbledore inclined his head, finally subsiding, but after a beat, he said, "Don't let me forget, Severus: I need to speak with you after rehearsal."

At that, Snape jerked from his wallowing in alarm. Warily looking at the headmaster, who was blithely sucking the ends of noodles into his mouth, Snape uttered a cautious, "Certainly, sir. I'll be sure to remember."

Snape eyed Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he wanted to talk to him about. Dumbledore simply enjoyed his meal, not paying any particular attention to Snape any longer.

After a while, it was late enough that Snape could collect Hermione before rehearsal. When they had exited the Hall, he Apparated them to his quarters, where he surprised Hermione by enveloping her in a tight embrace before she could even greet him.

Taken aback by the intensity of his grip, Hermione just squeezed back, lightly rubbing his back as she waited for him to release her enough to respond more solicitously.

The horrid tension in his gut eased as he held her, her mere presence soothing and calming him. After a long silence, he let go, pulling back to look down into her concerned face.

"Severus? Are you all right?"

Snape exhaled, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a wan smile. "I am now." Gazing at her tenderly, he lifted one hand and stroked her hair, absently tucking it behind her ear.

Hermione stared at him, worried. "What's wrong?"

Sliding his hand down her arm to clasp her hand, Snape shook his head faintly and led her toward the chair. "Things are just... difficult, Hermione. You needn't fret. I'm glad we can be together." He sank into the seat and his face creased into a soft, genuine smile. With a note of mock-sarcasm, he said, "Forgive me for wanting happiness, now that I've finally experienced it."

Hermione blushed, pleased. Her furrowed brow smoothed as she returned his smile. "You had me worried, Severus. Is that really all? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He rolled his eyes, shooing her toward the bathroom. "Yes, yes. Of course. Go on then. We have a rehearsal to worry about."

Hermione shot a mock-aggrieved look at him as she went to fetch the hair products. As she approached the chair again, she said, "I'm looking forward to it. It should be fascinating to put everything together at last!"

Snape nodded in agreement. "Indeed." As she began brushing his hair, he added, "Dumbledore wants to talk to me after practice tonight. About what...I have no idea."

Hermione frowned. "Did he seem upset?"

Snape snorted. "When has that daft old man ever 'seemed upset'? Really, love, I don't know what to expect, but I refuse to let myself worry as much as I did the last time he wanted to meet with me."

Smoothing pomade, Hermione voiced an inarticulate noise of agreement. After a beat of silence, she ventured, "Might it have anything to do with your 'project'?"

Snape leant forward, out of her grip, and spun to pin her with a fierce gaze. Hermione, pomade-coated hands still hovering in mid-air, stared at him, owl-eyed in surprise.

"What do you mean? What do you know of it?" Snape's voice was harsh as he snapped at her.

Bewildered, Hermione shook her head as she hastily retorted, "Nothing! I don't know anything about anything, honestly! I just know you're cooking something up, and I can't help but wonder what. I didn't know if perhaps Dumbledore might be in on whatever it is, and I was just curious. Really!" She gazed solemnly at him while he scowled.

Pursing his lips, he relaxed, turning to sit back in the chair and allow her to continue her task. In a low voice he said, "I told you not to worry about it."

Hermione resumed smoothing the pomade through his hair and said, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just... interested."

Snape snorted. "Trust me; I know."

After a few beats of silence, Hermione continued, "You know I'd love to help you with any sort of project, don't you?" She gathered his hair and secured the elastic around it.

Snape smirked and retorted, "I do. Hermione, I'd like to believe that we have our entire lives to be able to help each other with whatever we may want to do, but right now, I have to do this alone. I promise, you'll eventually find out what I'm on about. I just need to keep it secret, if you will, for a while longer."

Her growing petulance at being kept in the dark gave way to a sudden flash of heat as his stress on the word "secret" made her think of her own secret. Sucking in a breath, she bit her lip and swallowed, once again feeling a tingling in her centre. Without a word, she stepped around the chair and stopped in front of him, standing between his knees. He stared up at her, taken aback by the smouldering look on her face.

Before he could react, Hermione ducked down, cupping his face in her hands, and kissed him thoroughly. Snape's surprised grunt was lost against her lips, but his deep moan spurred her to climb onto his lap, straddling him. He nearly choked on his strangled cry as she pressed herself against him and started grinding on his rapidly swelling cock.

First gripping her hips to still her movements, Snape then pulled back, desperately trying to free himself from her devouring kiss. At his struggling, Hermione jerked back, frowning at him through a haze of desire.

Panting shallowly, he rasped, "Slippery... slope..." His expression, while mirroring the lust in Hermione's, also showed the amount of effort he was expending to control himself. When Hermione's eyes merely narrowed more and travelled to focus on his lips again, he said, "Hermione!"

Hermione snapped to attention, blinking. Her ears were filled with the roaring of her own blood racing through her veins, and, as she became aware of her position, she felt the unyielding heat of Snape's erection against her mound. At that, she gasped, flushing in confusion as she realized what she had started.

Struggling from his lap, carefully trying not to hurt him, she buried her burning face in her hands, ashamed at her loss of control. She turned away from him, and from behind her fingers came a muffled, "I'm sorry..."

Snape heaved a deep sigh of relief when she moved away, allowing himself to focus on something other than the delicious stimulation of her body on his. Gingerly standing, he wrapped his hands over the points of her shoulders, standing close to her but not letting his mutinous body touch hers.

"Calm down. It's all right. Hermione, look at me." He urged her to spin to face him. Gently prying her hands from her face, he tilted her chin up and peered at her, confused. Brow furrowing in wonder, he murmured, "Where in blazes did that come from?"

Hermione looked even more embarrassed, but she whispered, "It just... hit me. I can't explain it." She averted her eyes in an attempt to keep him from seeing the Slytherin half-truth of that statement. She knew what had hit her; she could explain it; she just couldn't explain it to him here and now.

Eyes narrowing, Snape waited for her to meet his gaze again. He could sense that she was hiding something, but, he didn't dare ask what lest she pry into his secret again. Deciding not to pursue the matter any more for the moment, he let his finger drop from under her chin.

They stood there, awkward tension hanging in the air between them. Snape shifted his weight furtively, willing his erection to flag. Hermione stared at the fire as she worried her hands so much that her knuckles were showing yellow through her skin. When his rapid pulse calmed, Snape stepped away to collect his mask from the table by the door.

He stood there for a beat, then glanced back at Hermione. They still had time before they had to be upstairs, but it didn't seem like much of a good idea to stay in his quarters alone after such a surprising turn of events. Nodding to himself, he looked at Hermione and said, "Why don't we head up the old way? Perhaps a little exercise would settle the body and clear the head..." He lifted his eyebrows in inquiry and Hermione gazed at him, gratitude for his suggestion writ plainly on her face.

"That's a brilliant idea." Smiling tightly at him, she crossed the room to stop by the door. Ducking her head sheepishly, she whispered, "I am sorry for accosting you like that. I know it wasn't fair to you. I'll try harder to keep control of myself."

Snape took her hand and squeezed. "I appreciate that." Then, with forced heartiness, he said, "Now, let's move along." He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him.

They strode silently down the corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing on the stones. Before they reached the stairs, Hermione grabbed for his hand. Looking at her in surprise, Snape paused.

She peered up at him, a half-smile on her face as she barely whispered, "I love you, Severus. Less than four months to go..."

Snape's lips twitched in response, but his eyes softened as he locked eyes with her. Then, flicking a glance along the corridor in both directions, he gazed at her again and murmured, "Indeed, my love."

They resumed their trek to the Great Hall, once again as at peace as they could get with such barriers to their relationship.

Spirits were high among the cast when they all trooped into the transformed Hall. Dumbledore was smiling and humming to himself as he Summoned the orchestra and cast Suaviloquentia on people. When the set was ready, he herded everyone onto the stage and watched as they all cast their first costume spells.

"Now, we're going to be accompanied by the instruments this time, and I don't want to stop if we can help it. I'll be handling the set changes, but you need to worry about your costume changes as well. Ready?" He flashed a bright, challenging look at everyone, and was met with nods and grins, some more confident than others. "Excellent! Very well then. Places!" He shuffled offstage into the house, and everyone took their posts for the opening.

The very air seemed to crackle with excitement and focus as everyone put forth their best efforts in this first dress rehearsal. The rhythm that the cast had developed over the previous months in practices continued, humming along as they added this newest bit to their tasks. There were a few stutters and slips, but by the time they all reached the end of the first Act, the euphoria of relief was palpable. Dumbledore, determined that they all get even better, urgently waved for them to all take their opening places again, as they were about to repeat the Act in its entirety.

"Come now, I know you can all make it through without stopping! Places!" Dumbledore bellowed over the buzz of conversations that had begun when the Act had come to an end, making students blink in surprise and then scramble to their spots.

Snape felt so pleased with the success of the dress rehearsal, and with admiring Hermione in her costumes, that he momentarily forgot the apprehension niggling in his mind over Dumbledore's request for a meeting after rehearsal. But, when the second time through came to a rather triumphant end, Snape came crashing back to reality and the sense of worry. Dumbledore announced that the following Friday they'd be dress rehearsing Act Two, and the cast dispersed, faces alight with accomplishment, leaving Snape behind with Dumbledore in the Hall that the older man was making ready to transform back to normal.

Snape watched the rest of the cast leaving, wishing he could go with them so he could watch Hermione for as long as she was visible on her trek upstairs, and wishing he hadn't been detained for a meeting with the headmaster, as he had far too many secrets to keep for such summons to not be nerve-wracking.

Dumbledore restored the Hall to its usual state, then airily drew a couple of comfortable chairs from thin air, gesturing for Snape to take one while he sank into the other. Snape sat warily, both feeling cornered by the dread that he had been found out and fighting that feeling with the logic that Dumbledore hadn't intimated that anything was amiss, so worrying so much was futile.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore firmly shut the doors to the Hall, and Snape swallowed, his eyes darting between the main escape route and the headmaster.

"I appreciate you remaining behind, Severus."

Snape inclined his head and murmured, "Certainly, Headmaster."

Dumbledore leant back in his seat and steepled his fingers, elbows propped on the arms of the chair. For a long moment...that seemed to scream with tension to Snape...he surveyed his Potions Master over his spectacles. Snape felt a prickle of cold sweat when he noticed that the twinkle had receded from the old man's eyes, leaving them serious and intense.

"I must confess that I am disappointed..."

Snape struggled to breathe normally, straining with all his might to not react to that statement. With supreme effort, he blinked as if in perplexity and said, "About what, sir?"

Dumbledore shook his head minutely, dropping his hands to rest on his lap as he exhaled heavily. His voice was low and cool as he said, "Imagine how I felt upon discovering that you were intent on betraying me." Snape froze, staring impassively at him. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and he made a moue of distaste. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Severus." Snape merely arched his eyebrows in blank inquiry. At that, Dumbledore leant forward and pinned Snape with a reproaching gaze. "After nearly two decades of friendship and help and service, building a mutually beneficial relationship, you seek to just toss it all away?"

Snape really was frozen in blank perplexity. Once again, he had thought the headmaster had discovered his relationship with Hermione, and once again, he was a-sea with confusion that he had been mistaken. Still, if Dumbledore hadn't caught on to them, what was he referring to?

His voice hard, Dumbledore threw his statement like a grenade. "Slug and Jiggers owled me to inquire about your employability."

Like a bucket of water, the cold shock washed over Snape. Struggling to assimilate the true reason why Dumbledore had summoned him, Snape sucked in a breath.

"Albus, the war is over..."

Dumbledore cut him off. "Exactly! And after all that I did for you to help you survive, you would so easily cast me aside? You owe me, Severus. If it weren't for me, you would likely have been dead ages ago."

Snape reared back, as Dumbledore's blunt words hit him like a slap in the face. Flabbergasted, he breathed, "I owe you?"

Dumbledore arched one eyebrow and looked down his nose at Snape. "Don't you?"

Snape's eyes widened in incredulity. "You've had my gratitude and my skills at your disposal for half my life! Isn't it about time that I move on to something other than this?"

Still eyeing him stonily, Dumbledore said, "You were going to keep it from me, weren't you? You would take all that I have cultivated in you for years and just leave? Give yourself to someone else? That is the most ungrateful thing I have ever heard."

Snape stared, unable to respond.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. His words stung Snape like a thousand tiny needles. "I won't allow it. You're mine, Severus. You know I view you like a son; and like any father might say, I made you. I want what's best for you, and that is to stay here where I can make sure you aren't making poor choices again or squandering what I've spent so long creating in you."

It was as if Dumbledore had hit Snape with a Full Body-Bind. He sat there, rigid, staring at the older man in disbelief.

"I daresay Slug and Jiggers have contacted you. It seems they weren't hiring anyway, but there certainly wouldn't be any need for another worker if they were to lose all the business from an establishment the size of, say, Hogwarts, now would there?"

Dumbledore cut a searing glance at Snape, his voice betraying his self-satisfaction at such an idea.

Snape couldn't breathe. His chest hurt so much that he felt like it was going to implode. A totally new and completely unexpected kind of heartbreak overwhelmed him...one that he was so blindsided by that he thought he was as close to losing his grip on sanity as he had ever been before.

Dumbledore stared at Snape for a long moment while the younger man reeled under the impact of Dumbledore's revelation. Then, he sat back in his chair, sniffing faintly. "No, my boy, you're better off here. I'm surprised you got such a foolish notion in your head to begin with."

The frigid shards of Snape's shattered heart lacerated his lungs as he tried to breathe again. Almost numb from the intensity of such a bewildering agony, he dazedly tried to get to his feet. Dumbledore watched him, his gaze shuttered. Snape stood, swaying a little on his feet, then silently turned and began walking toward the main doors to the Hall.

He had to get away, but he didn't trust himself to Apparate in his current state. When he was halfway across the Hall, Dumbledore called, "You'll thank me later, Severus, mark my words. You haven't the background to hare off on your own. You need someone to temper and guide you. It's better that you stay here and continue as you are. Trust me."

Snape made it to the doors, then paused and looked back over his shoulder, eyes bright with hurt and grief. Aware that he would never be able to look at his mentor and friend the same way again, he bowed his head in mourning for the loss of what had been the only relationship that had sustained him over the long, difficult years. Without a word, he left.

******** ************

Hermione had spent some time just chatting with her friends in the common room after they had all returned from rehearsal, but she excused herself as the sight of couples snuggling made her think of Snape and her plans to surprise him. The now-familiar throb in her knickers suggested that she retire and enjoy her own private "practice" some more.

After having locked and warded her door, she took a hot bath, relaxing her body of all but the sexual tension that kept her limbs humming with pent-up energy. Wrapped in a towel, she cast an Imperturbable Charm on her door and snagged an erotic magazine from the stack by her bed, slipping her hand beneath her pillow to retrieve her candle-toy. Any reticence she may have had before had drained away with each successive climb to completion, and the sense that her plan was slowly working to stretch her physical virginity just as she had hoped.

Crawling nude into bed, she settled comfortably against her pillows, absently fondling the candle that she had reshaped with a curve at the tip, as was illustrated in the books for G-spot stimulation. After judicious reading, she had decided that that must have been what Snape had touched within her to such explosive effect. Not wanting to worry about multiple spells interacting on the candle, she had simply used warming spells to heat the wax enough to actually mould it with her fingers to a new curve. That way, the Engorgement Charm would still work without interference.

Dimming her room except for the light she needed to see the provocative photos in the magazine, she began her recent nightly ritual before going to sleep.

******** ************

Snape made it to his quarters by sheer muscle memory, for his mind was so submerged in shock and pain that he was blind to everything he passed as his feet took him unerringly to his own door. Once inside, he found himself unable to sit still, and he roamed aimlessly through his rooms...from his quarters through his lab and to his office and back again...restless energy driving him to keep moving, for every time he tried to rest, the agony welled up in his chest and he had to move again, trying desperately to outpace the anguish of Dumbledore's self-serving, manipulative words.

As his numbed mind eventually started to thaw, he determined that it would have been easier to take if Dumbledore had discovered his relationship with Hermione, instead of being bludgeoned with the revelation of just how low the old man was willing to go in his machinations. The searing pain slowly gave way to rage...the cold, calculating sort that would simmer for ages.

Pacing in his quarters like the caged animal he truly was, he realized that he needed a vent for his anger and betrayal. Over the decades, whenever he needed a place to go, a person to turn to, he had had Albus Dumbledore. Now, that refuge was destroyed, fuelling his rage with resentment. Distractedly, he strode over to his sideboard, mechanically reaching for the bottle of Firewhisky. A liberal drink should dampen the burn of his agony.

He had poured the drink and had lifted it to his lips when the smell of it roused a startling memory. Sucking in a breath and slamming the glass back down, Snape recoiled from the alcohol as his mind echoed with Hermione!

Images of her confession about how she felt about alcohol swarmed his mind, and with them came exquisite relief. Hermione! How could I have forgotten her like this? She's the only one left I can turn to. I need her, not damned Firewhisky! He hastily disposed of the drink, shutting the bottle away again. Seized by the intense yearning for Hermione, he spun to look at the time. Is it really that late already? Surely she's gone to bed by now. I must see her!

He hastened into his bathroom, lurching toward the mirror and gripping the sink basin as he stared into his own haggard, wild-eyed face.

She's all you have left. Go to her!

For gods' sakes, she's worried about falling prey to your damned "slippery slope." This isn't about sex!

He screwed his eyes shut, head hanging as he writhed inwardly in indecision. Jerking his head back up, his eyes snapping open, he shot a fiercely determined yet desperate look at his own reflection before nodding sharply and running his hands through his hair, ripping the elastic from it, and exhaling slowly.

The thought sounded like a prayer in his head: She'll forgive me. She'll understand...

And with that playing like a mantra in his overtaxed mind, he Disapparated.