"Good evening, sir," Hermione greeted Severus politely. There was no need to start off on the wrong foot if she could help it.
"Miss Granger," he responded curtly.
Well, maybe it was too late for real civility, but at least she'd tried.
He was working at his desk and had yet to look up to properly acknowledge her. He was grading, she supposed, as he had a quill full of red ink and seemed to be making liberal use of it. She hadn't been invited to sit down, so she clasped her hands behind her back, settled into a waiting stance, and started a mental tally, wondering how many errors he could find on whatever he was grading and how long it would be before he decided it was possible to acknowledge that he'd asked her to arrive at nine o'clock.
It was nearly ten minutes later before he put down his quill. The angle had been wrong for her to ascertain whose paper it was; three minutes into the waiting game, she'd made a concerted effort. She'd followed that up with cataloguing the potions and bizarre liquids that were in the jars on the shelves that covered the walls, and then she'd discovered that there was an interesting lack of cobwebs festooning his ceiling, suggesting that what was covering some of the weirder jars on the shelves was merely for effect. Or, she supposed, suggesting that he'd had to compromise with the house-elves.
He rose.
"Come."
She went, wondering if this brevity was going to characterize the entire evening. She was used to him having a much wider vocabulary and wasn't entirely certain if this boded well or very, very ill.
He led her to his private lab which she hadn't seen the inside of since he had thrown her out last term. Her area still appeared completely unused, and she tried really hard not to feel resentful or hurt. It was a losing battle, but at least it gave her a topic to occupy her mind while he continued to remain silent.
"Sit."
She sat on the stool that he indicated, mentally grinding her teeth. She felt a bit like a dog responding to simple, one-word commands. She supposed he wouldn't find it funny if she "woofed" at the next one, but it was awfully tempting.
He was doing that looming thing that made her feel as though she were all of three inches tall, and given that he loomed over her already by virtue of being quite naturally considerably taller than she was, she was not impressed that he'd made her sit down while he continued to stand.
"While I generally make allowances for a certain amount of mental incompetence amongst Gryffindors on the whole, your behaviour recently is really outside the bounds of what can be tolerated."
Hermione, torn between laughing at the notion that he ever made allowances for mental incompetence and being quite offended that she was being so insulted, didn't manage to say anything before he spoke again.
"In the interest of being able to document the loss of what passes for your mind, I am going to give you the opportunity to explain what in the name of all that is magical you were thinking."
She blinked at him. He was staring at her as though there were no reason for her not to be able to answer right away. She felt as though she had missed something obvious in a viva voce exam, but she refused to let him rattle her. "I'm sorry, sir, but I believe I would be better able to explain myself to you if I knew what, precisely, makes you think I've lost my mind."
He looked on the brink of taking points for cheek, but Hermione had made sure to phrase herself as politely as possible; she wasn't about to give him the chance of finding out a fact he hadn't actually known to ask about simply because she thought that was what he wanted to know.
"You and the Saviour of the Wizarding World went out into the Forbidden Forest knowing there was a pack of werewolves in it," he said coldly.
She nodded. No getting around that one. "It's a decision which I stand by. Forbidden or no, the circumstances were dire. We would have gone in for most students, I suppose, but we certainly weren't about to let Draco die just after he'd made the right decision."
And while Harry was in love with the other boy, but Hermione didn't suppose this would be the venue to mention that detail. Without knowing that fact, it probably did seem a little daft to have let Harry out there; she knew full well, however, that there had been no stopping him. And she wasn't going to tell Severus why.
"Do you not realize how dangerous it was?"
She did not appreciate being treated as though she were a particularly stupid first-year student and tried not to look quite as withering as she felt—because this was Professor Snape she was talking to. "I do understand that it was dangerous, sir, but I was hardly out there alone. You went with the intention of trying to save him, as did I."
"I, nonsensical witch, did not serve as a distraction covered in Draco's blood."
Hermione stared at him in some confusion. Was he concerned about her? Not just pissed off that she'd been doing something forbidden but actually worried about her health and safety? Or was he simply trying to point out the ways that what she had done were different from what he had done as a way to explain why he was punishing her when he had also been out there?
She took a moment to compose what she hoped was a suitable reply, wondering if it was a bad indication of her emotional state that the thought of him being stressed, angry, and chewing her out because he was worried about her was rather heart-warming.
"Sir, as I said at the time, I was astride Castina, and she could outrun any werewolf in existence. I wasn't really in much danger. It was the best plan that was available under the circumstances that ensured that everyone could get to safety as well as preventing the werewolves from deciding that the people of Hogsmeade were of interest; Castina and I led the werewolves as far away from civilization as possible, and she and the herd kept the pack running about until they were tired enough to sleep."
He was staring at her with eyes that glittered. "It was unbearably Gryffindor."
She bit back a laugh. She supposed she could probably be nauseatingly Gryffindor for the consummate Slytherin—and she didn't suppose that pointing out once again that he had also been in the Forest would help her case. "I'm not denying that it had risks, but I think the benefits outweighed them. I'm not sure what you want me to say, sir."
"You'd do it again." It wasn't a question, and he still didn't sound pleased.
She nodded.
"You realize I should take points from you."
She raised an eyebrow; if that was supposed to sound threatening, he had fallen rather short of the mark. And since he usually just took points—and assigned detention and ranted—she was left rather nonplussed.
"You entered the Forest without permission and displayed a great deal of familiarity with it. You told me that you didn't go there frequently," he said severely.
She'd wondered when that would come back to bite her. Sooner rather than later, apparently.
"How would you gauge such a subjective question, Professor? I spend the merest fraction of my time in the Forest compared to how much time I spend in the castle. It's much less time than the herd or I would like. Therefore, as far as I'm concerned, it can hardly qualify as frequently."
He considered her for a long moment, and she thought she was teetering on the edge of that rant she'd been thinking of a moment ago, but he surprised her with a very calm, "That's a very Slytherin response, Miss Granger."
"Come now, sir," she said with a slightly teasing tone, pleased that the mood seemed to have lightened somewhat. "Just because I'm a Gryffindor doesn't mean I don't try to talk myself out of trouble."
"So you don't think you should get into trouble?"
"If I get a vote?" she asked with amusement. "No, sir. In all honesty, when Voldemort interferes with our lives at the school, the headmaster has a tendency to accept that as exigent circumstances and therefore as a reason not to punish us for any of the bizarre array of activities in which we've been involved as a result."
"You feel that I should do the same?" His expression was unreadable.
"I feel that you, even more than Albus, are in a position to know just how disruptive Voldemort can be to our lives. Of course," she admitted somewhat ruefully, "I can't blame Voldemort for every time that I've been in the Forest. If you intend to punish me for that, then I can't really offer a compelling reason for you not to do so. Would I, however, have been in the Forest on a full moon night and put myself in the danger that resulted without Voldemort? No. It was his actions which led to me being out there on Monday night, and I hope that he therefore holds some portion of the blame."
"So I should take away House points from him and assign detention?" Severus asked, sounding darkly amused.
She laughed softly. "That didn't come out quite how I meant it, but if you could do, I would wholeheartedly support you."
Severus sighed. "The headmaster does have an annoying habit of assigning your House six hundred points rather than removing them as a result of all the rules you have broken over your scholastic career. I don't suppose any of you have kept track?"
"I don't think Ron and Harry would know a rule if it bit them," she admitted with a smile. "I confess that it didn't occur to me early enough to keep a running total. And now, well, I wouldn't want anyone to come across it and implement your point loss scheme."
"I don't believe Albus would actually allow me to go back and remove points from previous years."
"Just imagine your being able to remove points from Harry decades after he ceased to be a student," she said with a theatrical shudder.
Severus's eyes gleamed. "I hadn't considered it quite that far into the future. I'm sure I can convince Albus that it is necessary."
She laughed again, wondering in a small part of her brain when the yelling was going to start because thus far, this was qualifying as a positively lovely conversation overall.
As if her having such a thought signalled the end of the pleasantness, Severus asked another probing question.
"I would like to know why you didn't reveal to any of us that you were the Pure Adults."
She frowned. "We discussed this already."
"Many topics were covered in that discussion," Severus said dismissively. "Not all was said on this particular matter that could have been said."
Hermione was quite certain that he was right, but she hadn't ever intended to say everything.
"I'm not going to begin a monologue on the subject, sir," she said politely but firmly.
His eyes glittered. "In that case, I will ask questions. How long have you known?"
Now that he'd asked the question, she realized that it wasn't simply that she wouldn't gush about everything that she had been thinking about Pure Adults. He was going to be angry as anything, probably, but she didn't feel she had any choice.
"I don't think I can have this discussion with you, sir."
As predicted, he looked instantly incensed.
He sounded as though his jaw was clenched tightly as he asked, "I beg your pardon?"
She sighed. "I'm afraid you heard me correctly, sir. I don't believe I can discuss the issue of Pure Adults with you."
"Why is that?" he asked acidly.
"If you're going to yell at me and take away points for my being in the Forest when I shouldn't have been, that's within your rights as my professor. As far as my being a Pure Adult goes, however, it's utterly beyond the scope of my school life and your business."
His voice was arctic. "I see. I certainly won't force you to speak about a topic with someone you feel is inappropriate."
"It's not that," she protested. "I'd rather talk to you than Albus or Ron or almost anybody else."
This cleared the slightest bit of fury from his face.
"Then what?" he demanded sharply.
"It's my life," she said simply. "My personal life. I can't sit here and discuss it with my Potions professor." He opened his mouth for a doubtless scathing retort, and she hurried on to try to explain herself better: "I can't sit here worrying that you're going to put me in detention for the rest of my life or take away those six hundred points from Gryffindor. It's not fair to me or my housemates when the topic has nothing to do with the school."
He considered her. "So you'd willingly discuss it if I weren't your professor?"
"If I didn't feel that I was talking to my Potions professor, I would do my best to answer what questions I could, yes, sir."
He was staring at her contemplatively. "Then stop calling me 'sir'."
Her lips twitched involuntarily, and she let out a huff of breath. "I would, sir, except that I don't particularly relish losing a whole bunch of points for Gryffindor and being thrown out of your lab again."
He stared at her with a look of incomprehension for a fleeting moment, and then uttered, seemingly without thought, "That's why you started calling me 'sir' all the time?"
"Of course it is," she answered indignantly. "You threw me out of the room for familiarity! How else was I supposed to take it but that you didn't want me to call you by your given name?"
He looked truly startled.
She was now confused. "Hold on. Why do you think I started calling you 'sir'?"
He shook his head.
"I have a right to know."
He stared at her. "You really thought I told you not to call me 'Severus' anymore? That's quite insulting."
"I know it's insulting," she said incredulously. "It most definitely did not escape my notice; given the thirty points I lost, it would be difficult for me to forget. Now answer my question."
He raised an eyebrow, and she realized that she hadn't phrased herself terribly politely.
"You told me not to call you 'sir'?" she offered sheepishly.
The slightest showing of amusement edged in around his lips, and she was more than pleased. He appeared, for whatever absurd reason, to be in good humour again.
He drew a deep breath and let it out with what sounded suspiciously like a sigh.
"I was under the impression that you had chosen to start referring to me more formally after the events on Halloween."
It didn't take a genius to work out which events he meant, but that realization didn't help her.
"You're going to have to forgive me for being very stupid." It was what he'd been calling her all evening, anyway. "But I don't understand why the one would affect the other."
His gaze had narrowed again as though he thought that she were playing with him, but she really didn't know what he was talking about.
He hesitated. This was clearly not something he wanted to discuss, and she wondered what it was that had made him decide to be honest with her in this moment. Was it the promise of some honesty in return on her part?
She would have promised it ages ago if she'd known it could be as simple as that.
He spoke stiffly. "I killed seven children as you watched."
She stared at him like a complete nitwit, stunned utterly speechless. He'd actually thought—
Only she had delayed for too long because his face hardened. He opened his mouth for something that she knew was going to be crushing. She did the only thing that sprang to mind, leaping up and wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. She could ignore the likelihood of impending point loss and a slew of detentions with the best of them.
She sniffed several times and hoped that she wasn't getting tears or snot on the fabric. This was not exactly the context wherein she'd hoped to get closer to him. But the misunderstanding was so horrible that she would do just about anything to fix it.
She had no idea how long they stood there, but it was only when she felt some of the tension ease from his body that she reluctantly released him and stepped back once more.
He was staring at her with an attempt at that normal expressionless look but it appeared more vulnerable to her than normal. Maybe it just came of knowing one of the things that he had been thinking under that veneer of hardness.
"Idiot man," she breathed. Unwise, probably, but no other words were coming to mind. "I would never hold you responsible for what happened in that orphanage. You were forced by your position as a spy to commit an action that was abhorrent to you. The poison was fast-acting, and you took no pleasure in what you were doing. How could you think I would condemn you for that?"
There was still something akin to shock in his eyes. "How could you not be horrified?"
She shook her head. "I just said. I know what you do as a spy. Those things horrify me, but you cannot. You're doing them when you have to in order to bring crucial information to us and keep others safe.Y You're one of the bravest people I know, and Halloween only confirmed that for me."
He gazed at her wordlessly. She didn't think she'd ever seen him quite like this before.
She tried again: "Voldemort killed those children; you were forced to participate. Checking how you were doing was actually the first thing I planned to do when I got to the lab, but those thoughts were brought to a screeching halt by the dismantling of all my work."
He almost looked chagrined as he admitted, "I thought your opinion quite plain; it seemed prudent to curtail our encounters in a prompt manner."
She considered this and then interpreted, "You wanted to kick me out before I stormed out on my own?"
He offered the most marginal of nods.
She forced down slightly hysterical giggles with an effort. It was so very much like something Ron would do, but she knew Severus would kill her if she said so.
"I wasn't going to leave," she clarified when she had herself under control. "I was very confused."
"So I gather. I had not intended for that to happen."
That was perilously close to an apology from the man.
"So I may call you by your given name?" She wanted to be absolutely certain.
"You may."
She grinned. "Severus."
His lips tipped up. "Is there more to that sentence, or were you just making sure you hadn't forgotten how to pronounce it?"
She shot him a look. "I don't think you should be insulting me yet. I need at least another moment or two to bask in the glory of that misunderstanding being cleared up."
"Speaking of misunderstandings: where exactly is your lab?"
She looked at him quizzically.
"It has recently been brought to my attention that you are not sleeping with Potter. It seems unlikely that you turned your bedroom into a lab."
She grinned, still pleased that he'd heard and recalled that snide comment.
"My bedroom is still there, and if you'd ever let me finish a sentence, you'd know that I only spend the night with Harry when he's having bad nightmares. He's calmer when someone else is with him, and after the hideous way the Dursleys treated him, I wanted him to know that he's not a burden to anyone and that he shouldn't have to hide his nightmares behind a Silencing Charm."
Severus was staring at her, and she realized that she'd gotten a bit intense in her rant.
"Sorry," she apologized quickly. "The lab is attached to the bedroom."
He spoke slowly: "There isn't a lab attached to the Head Girl and Head Boy quarters for Slytherin."
"There wasn't a lab," she corrected. "There is now."
"How did you manage that?" he asked suspiciously.
She considered how to answer the question. "I was rather upset about my loss of lab space." And the fact that the man she loved had just repudiated her in an utterly appalling fashion, but perhaps she wouldn't mention that bit. "There were several … beings who were aware of my distress."
"Fawkes," Severus said flatly.
She nodded. "He communicated with the castle and when I returned," she cleared her throat, "from the Forest, it was simply there."
"That's a very handy talent to possess," he observed dryly.
She shrugged. "I've never asked Fawkes or the castle for anything specifically. But they apparently anticipate needs sometimes."
"Does anyone else know?" he asked curiously.
When he was behaving bloody reasonably, she didn't even mind answering his questions. She wondered how long it would take him to work that out and use it to his advantage. If, of course, he wasn't doing so already.
"Harry, who'd started to wonder why I spent so much time in my room." Severus smirked. "And Remus, who's been there for potions."
"And you didn't want Harry to wonder why the wolf was spending so much time in your bedroom?"
She made a face at his tone. "Actually, I told Harry that we were having a torrid affair. Remus was very confused."
Severus actually let out a short bark of laughter, and she was impressed that he could be so light-hearted after her mention of the last of the Marauders.
"I can imagine he was. Fascinating as discussing Mr Potter and his favourite wolf is, however, I have some other questions for you."
She sighed. "I was afraid you might."
The right side of his mouth twisted up in a half smile. This time, however, he let her conjure chairs, and he even requested tea before he repeated his first question: "How long have you known?"
She considered him. "You're not going to take away House points?"
He sighed audibly, sounding quite put-out, but she was pretty sure he was just acting now.
"I won't remove any House points or assign any detentions as a result of anything surrounding the topic of Pure Adults."
"And you're not going to report this meeting to Albus?"
He looked offended. "Certainly not. The old man finds out quite enough on his own without me ferreting out information for him." She raised an eyebrow, and he amended, "I do enough of that on other topics."
She nodded, accepting this as the best guarantee she was going to get. "I knew nothing about Pure Adults until Kingsley told us about it at the meeting."
"Yet you and Mr Potter both played dumb?"
He seemed to doubt their circumspection.
"It seemed the wisest course of action under the circumstances," she said coolly, mildly annoyed because she was quite sure that he wouldn't have doubted a Slytherin's not leaping up to announce his or her Pure status. "Afterwards, we came up with the plan that we've been sticking to ever since."
"No one else knows the truth?"
She had thought this rather self-evident, and her expression evidently conveyed this because he continued.
"Mr Weasley—"
She rolled her eyes, thinking that Ron's egregious behaviour should have been quite clear, too. "We've been guarding our secret from everyone. We know how important it is, and staying silent was the only way we felt we could be reasonably assured of our safety."
"And now that I, Albus, and Draco know?"
"If it were an option, I would go back to none of you knowing," she admitted since she imagined he had already guessed. "If someone had to find out, however, it could have been worse. I would take Albus out of the loop if I could."
"Why?"
"Weren't you at that discussion?" she asked with a frown. "It was very clear what he wanted us to do, and I have absolutely no desire to do it."
"Where is this reticence to have sex actually coming from?" he asked, his sharp gaze particularly piercing. "You must realize that it would be safer to cease to be a Pure Adult."
He was the one person she thought really deserved an answer to that question, so she said, "Because the person I'm interesting in having it with is not interested in having it with me."
"Mr Potter—" Severus began.
"Oh, for God's sake, not again. I don't want to sleep with Harry! We were pretending to be a couple to protect our identities in the search for the Pure Adults. How difficult is that to understand?"
"That seems like an awfully vehement protest."
Her lips pursed into a sour line. "Draco said exactly the same, and I got annoyed with him, too. I thought both of you would have had the sense to grasp the simple concept that Harry and I are not a couple. We are not having sex. And we don't want to have sex."
"If you say so." He sounded completely unconvinced.
"I do," she said firmly. "If we wanted to have sex, we wouldn't be here." She rolled her eyes. "I should obviously have called you up to the hospital wing when Draco and I were having this discussion, because I feel as though I'm repeating myself."
"But you've considered what would happen if the two of you were to sleep together?" he questioned. "From a power perspective, I mean."
"We've considered that it is not meant to be," she answered immediately. "We are not interested in one another, and we're not doing it just for power."
Maybe it was her, but she thought that was rather the point; for whatever reason, it had worked out that it was the two of them who were Pure Adults. Two people, best friends and on the side of the Light but who had no interest in one another sexually. Two people who weren't hunting for power. She'd always thought that was one of the better reasons for them to get it.
She knew that it would be useful in the war effort for them to have an exponential increase in their power but what would be the point of any of this if they created two new would-be dictators? No one knew for certain what would happen if two Pure Adults slept with one another, and she was sure that it was meant to stay that way.
She was equally sure that if Albus got up the nerve, he'd try to argue all for their finding out what happened if the two of them had sex. She was more or less reconciled to Severus bringing it up, perhaps because she was crazy about him, or possibly because he always seemed so annoyed at the notion of any sort of Potter sex; she didn't think that he really wanted her and Harry to have sex, but as the Head of Slytherin, bringing up the power topic was pretty much a requirement.
No matter what anybody told her, her belief that they were not meant to have sex was unshakeable.
"Could you not do it for the war?" Severus asked, recalling her attention to him.
She shook her head, making a face. "And that is why I didn't want Albus to know."
"Oh?"
She was beginning to feel that they were playing a never-ending game of twenty questions where it was always her turn to answer.
"Because he'd try to force us into that exact position." She grimaced again, hoping that hadn't come across as a bad double entendre to him. "If we were going to have sex, don't you think we would have done so already?"
"So you're Pure Adults because you haven't found someone to shag yet?" he asked sceptically.
"One of the reasons we're Pure Adults," she responded tartly, "and I'm not getting into any of the others, is that we're both of the more single-minded approach when it comes to people with whom we want to have sex."
"No one-night stands for you?" he asked mockingly.
Her lips tightened. "I'm still a virgin."
He finally seemed to have got off the idea that she and Harry wanted to or were going to have sex with one another, thank God, only this appeared to have given him the chance to consider the rest of what she had said, for he asked, "There's someone that you're interested in?"
She suppressed a sigh and nodded.
"Why have you not approached him?"
"Because he's not interested in me," she repeated, thinking that was a pretty clear statement to begin with.
He looked at her as though she had said something monumentally stupid again. "Anyone would want to sleep with a Pure Adult."
Her nod of agreement wobbled a little, but she forced it out. She didn't want just anyone to sleep with her, and she didn't want the one person she was interested in to do it because she was a Pure Adult.
"That's probably true," she answered when she was sure her tone had settled. "But I didn't get this far by being unchoosy in my partners, did I? I guess I'm looking for more than someone who's just out to bed a Pure Adult, reassuring as it is to know that anybody would."
She hadn't kept the edge out of her voice, not at all.
He looked faintly annoyed. "That wasn't exactly—"
"Of course it was," she said brusquely. "It's perfectly true. If I stood up and announced in the Great Hall that I was a Pure Adult, most people would probably offer themselves up as willing partners. If I stood up and asked who wanted to have a go otherwise, the response would be pretty quiet. I know that."
"I didn't—"
She shook her head. "Please don't."
"Mr Potter is a Pure Adult."
She pressed her lips together and wondered what that had to do with anything.
"For reasons that escape me, lots of people want to sleep with him, do they not?" he pursued.
She nodded. Possibly a majority of the school.
Severus's look was pointed. "So what makes you assume that the situation is so different for you?"
She opened her mouth to make a sharp retort but paused. That was … kind of sweet, actually. She knew damn well what made the situation different, but Severus had asked the question as though the answer were not obvious, and she could not help but feel a bit better.
"It's so unfortunate I can't make the announcement and actually track the results," she said facetiously.
He almost smiled but what he said was, "You maintain that you honestly have no intention of consummating a relationship in the near future? You haven't really given me a particularly good reason why you're putting it off, and it keeps you in danger."
"I thought I was rather clear," she said sharply. "When I want to have sex, I will do so. Until that time, no matter how much Voldemort is looking for me, I will not be pushed into a position that I do not wish to be pushed into."
He stared at her closely but seemed to realize that this was the extent of her position and her willingness to discuss it. The dark gaze lingered for a long time.
"I gave you two weeks of detention," he pronounced as he rose to his feet.
She rose as well, knowing that he wasn't about to rescind them because that simply wasn't the way the man worked. Apparently, the question and answer portion of her detention was over, and it was about to begin in earnest.
"Yes, you did," she agreed.
"I have some Pepper-Up that needs to be brewed."
"Okay." It took her a moment to understand, at which point she nodded once more.
Well. It wasn't quite as good as not having detention at all, but she'd take it. She had spent many evenings in his lab making potions that had nothing to do with a detention. While these would remain detentions in name, it seemed that he was trying to show her that they weren't detentions in fact.
"I'll get right on that … Severus."
He gave her a nod, indicating that he understood that she understood, and she got to work before she could become embroiled in further contemplation of the intricacies of working with a Slytherin.
It was nearing midnight when Hermione tidied up, and Severus told her that her detentions would remain at this hour each day of the week but her presence would not be required on the weekends. Her last detention would therefore be two Thursdays from now.
This meant, she realized immediately, that he was only making her do ten so-called detentions rather than fourteen. Plus, he wasn't going to make her suffer the ignominy of public detention with the rest of the seventh-years. She could have hugged him for it, but she had the sense not to attempt it for a second time in one evening.
She bid Severus good night and made her way back to her quarters. Harry was waiting up for her in the common room, immediately putting aside the book that he had been at least pretending to read.
"Well?" He looked anxious, no doubt because she'd been gone for so long.
She grinned at him, and he looked flabbergasted.
"Okay, not the expression I was expecting to see. What on Earth happened?"
"We sorted out a misunderstanding," she said happily. "He invited me to call him Severus again—it turns out he didn't really uninvite me, but we're not going to talk about that." Severus would kill her, she was sure, if she revealed how he had felt to Harry. "Then he had me brew potions for a few hours."
Harry stared at her. "Like you do practically every night anyway."
She nodded.
"So," he said slowly, "it's not really a detention."
She shook her head. He beamed at her suddenly, springing off the couch to give her a hug, and she accepted the embrace readily.
"That's great, 'Mione. I didn't think he had it in him, but that's wonderful for you."
She smiled back at him. "Thank you, Harry. I must admit that I don't mind a happy meeting now and then."
"Let's hope they stay that way," he said, and she nodded her head in fervent agreement.
They had their Veritaserum capsules together and retired to their beds, Hermione thinking that she would be very happy indeed if she was beginning a period of sweet dreams.
The next week was incredibly busy. Until Wednesday, Harry and Draco had detention at the same time, so she saw them very little apart from class time; she had her detentions once they returned from theirs. On Thursday, she began to brew the Weresbane Potion for its real trial.
The potion had a rather rigid schedule to which she needed to adhere, and in order that it wouldn't conflict with her detentions with Severus and would be ready by Tuesday morning, she began it immediately after class on Thursday. While Harry wasn't exactly used to her skipping out on meals during the school year in order to brew, she had only to say that she was working on something exciting and look as though she might launch into a long and detailed explanation, and he was practically shoving her into her laboratory.
Since Draco seemed to spend virtually all of his free time in their common room, Hermione didn't think Harry was hurting for company. She was amused that as much as Draco had explained to her why he and Harry shouldn't be together while there was still a chance that he'd turn furry once a month, he couldn't seem to stay away from the messy-haired Gryffindor.
Hermione thought it was rather sweet, especially as the two of them continued to dance so carefully around one another. As far as she could tell, she was still the only one who had actually discussed their feelings; they had both been very careful not to raise the topic between them. She didn't think this was just in her presence, either; the way they kept stealing glances at one another when the other wasn't looking smacked of a relationship that was in its most nascent stages.
On Tuesday, Draco had appeared before breakfast, and they had shown him some of the physical training they did. He had been hugely amused to watch them throw one another around without wands but thought it "barbaric". When Hermione had Summoned his wand and Harry had tackled him and had him subdued in all of ten seconds, he had confessed that perhaps it had its advantages. Of course, since he had been smothered under a happy, sweaty Harry, she hadn't been entirely certain that he had been speaking of the benefits they had originally had in mind. Harry had flushed crimson and suddenly drawn back. Hermione had smirked merrily at both of them.
On Thursday, after she'd finished with the Weresbane and while Draco was still at his detention, she spent the evening until her own detention continuing with Harry's Animagus training. He was still pursuing the topic, but as he had classes again and so much of his free time was now taken up with Draco, he wasn't studying as much as he had over the holidays. She assured him that he was keeping on track and stressed the fact that it was important that he learn the topic carefully and well.
She wished she could have the two of them study together, but she didn't think it would go over well in the end. Draco knew too much about the transformation—much as the ferret embarrassed him—and he would likely give himself away with knowledge that could not be easily explained. He would also already be on edge about the reason he was re-examining all these facts, and he would certainly get defensive if Harry asked any awkward questions. She would really prefer not to contribute to their first fight before they were even really a couple, so she made do with schooling them both privately out of her non-existent free time.
Brewing with Severus had continued through the week, and it was peaceful and wonderful as far as she was concerned. She really didn't care what he asked her to brew. If Severus wanted her company while she brewed a standard Nose-Bleed Draught, then she'd happily brew it even if it only had six steps and she could make it blindfolded and half asleep.
Severus was actually allowing her to ask questions again, too, and she'd been so delighted that she hadn't been able to think of a single thing to ask. He had teased her mercilessly. It felt almost like it had in those lovely days in September and October before Pure Adults and Voldemort had messed everything up. She found herself actually glad that Severus knew the truth because it seemed to improve the situation between them so much. It wasn't worth Draco being sacrificed to werewolves, of course, but given the happy outcome that night, she couldn't feel totally horrible about not minding that events had unfolded the way they had.
On Friday afternoon—marking a week since Draco had been released from the Infirmary and become a fixture in their common room—he learnt about their dancing hobby. He'd ducked out after lunch, saying he needed to speak to some people. Since the Slytherin had ventured forth alone, Harry was extremely nervous.
She allowed him to check the Map, showing that Draco had indeed met up with Pansy, but when the dark-haired boy showed no inclination to move away or stop staring at the two labelled dots, she forced him to dance with her. It was a task that still required thought on his part so it was bound to take his mind off Draco. If he stepped on her foot and she yelped with pain, it meant he'd be paying attention to the here and now, and it would be a pleasant surprise when the blond showed up.
They were now practicing the slow foxtrot, and it was progressing very slowly indeed. When she had explained the International Standard ballroom dances to him, he had expressed a desire to learn each of them, and she was trying to oblige. At the moment, however, it seemed as though he could only learn two or three dances at one time before his brain short-circuited.
Draco returned, and since they were in the midst of an almost successful bit, Harry didn't even try to stop. Harry made it another minute or so without egregious error, and then he tried to lead her in some sort of turn that resulted in her arm being twisted up her back.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Harry, that was pitiful!" Draco exclaimed. "See how it's supposed to be done."
Without another word, Draco had swept her out of Harry's arms and into his own.
Draco knew how to dance. She had not, obviously, had the chance to learn this fact personally during the Yule Ball. She had been involved enough with Viktor and the explosion that was Ron that she had paid very little attention to Draco Malfoy. Now that she was actually in his arms, however, she could feel that he was superb. He knew the steps like the back of his hand, and he led her around the room with an air of casual grace. This was one pure-blood lesson on which she could not fault him.
He twirled and dipped her in a finish which she had not anticipated, but he was skilled enough that he could actually get her to follow him successfully. They were breathing heavily with their exertion and both grinning at one another. She was happy to teach Harry, but it was rather exhilarating to be on the arm of someone who knew what they were doing.
She looked across the room, and her smile died as she saw the look on her best friend's face. Oh, bugger. By the time Draco had straightened her up and they were both facing Harry, the look was gone.
"You're really good at that," Harry said in a suspiciously even voice.
"I should hope so," Draco said condescendingly. "And Hermione's an excellent partner. I don't want to think about how horrid you are to have made her look so awful when the two of you were dancing."
Harry offered them a clearly forced smile.
"Well, how about you two give it another go, and I'll just run to the kitchens? I'm a little hungry."
Before she could protest, he was gone. Hermione swore softly to herself. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"He knows a number of house-elves."
Draco made a face. "Making him more fortunate than I?"
She shook her head impatiently. "They delight in indulging him, and he knows it makes them happy; if he wants food outside of meal time, they're just itching to bring it to him."
An eyebrow rose. "Then why did he go to the kitchen?"
She sighed. "To compose himself? To give the two of us space? I'm not entirely certain."
Draco still looked mystified. "Why would we need space?"
"Because you and I dance beautifully, and you just told Harry that he sucked at it."
"But he does suck at it."
Circumspection did not seem to be working, and since she'd contributed to this mess, she was determined to sort it out before Harry could get daft notions firmly planted in his brain.
She started over. "Do you know why he's trying to learn to dance?"
"Trying is definitely the optimal word," Draco snorted, looking miffed when he got a glare as a result. "No," he said, clearly annoyed. "Enlighten me."
"Because you looked so graceful at the Yule Ball." When he looked about to say something joking again, she clarified, "His words, not mine."
Now he looked pleased. "I hadn't realized he'd noticed."
"He did. He cared so much, in fact, about your being a superb dancer while he couldn't dance for the life of him that he asked me to teach him over Christmas so that there was a chance he wouldn't stomp all over your toes if he ever got the chance to dance with you."
Realization had dawned on Draco's face. "And instead of being touched by such a romantic gesture, I crushed his budding dance abilities and swept his best friend off her feet."
She smiled in commiseration. "Got it in one."
Draco made a face. "How was I supposed to know he was going to go and do an adorable thing like that? I wouldn't have been quite so insulting if I'd known he'd only been trying for a couple of weeks. He just … he made it look really painful. It was hard to watch."
She laughed at his evident distaste. "We've only been trying the foxtrot in the last few days."
Draco sighed. "Is he going to come back from the kitchens?"
She shrugged. "Depends how seriously he's convinced himself that maybe it's not him you're interested in."
It took an amusingly long time for the Knut to drop, and the look of absolute disgust and horror on his face was priceless.
"You've got to be kidding. He thinks I'm interested in you?"
Once the words were out of his mouth, he evidently realized how they sounded, for his eyes widened slightly, and he added in a completely altered tone of voice, "Which is to say that if I were interested in women, I would of course be interested in you, but since I'm not—"
She waved his attempt away before he could dig himself into an even deeper hole.
"I don't want to have sex with you either, Draco, so let's call it even, shall we?"
He smiled. "You know, it's sort of sweet that he thinks something as daft as that. Makes me feel better about worrying about the two of you."
"You're both completely daft. Isn't that lovely?" she said with false cheerfulness. "Here I am caught in the middle and not the slightest bit interested in sleeping with either of you."
His expression grew sharper. "About that. You do hand out clues?"
She shook her head. "You're on your own. I wouldn't give Harry any hints either."
His eyes narrowed. "Wouldn't, eh? So now he knows."
She narrowly managed not to give away how annoyed she was with herself that she'd given that much away.
"I've entrusted him with a number of my secrets, Draco," she said calmly instead. "We're best friends."
"He guessed, and you couldn't come up with a big enough lie to deny it?" he suggested perceptively.
She smiled, tilting her head back and forth to indicate that that might in some small way resemble what had happened.
"Shall I go looking for him, then?" he asked, returning to his primary concern. "Reassure him that we're not in here having crazy sex?"
She laughed. "I'm getting creepy mental images. Please stop."
He wrinkled his nose as her comment evidently brought the same images to his mind. "Ew. Girl sex."
"So you've never had sex with a woman?" she asked curiously.
He sighed. "In my misguided youth, I was much more devoted to the idea of a proper pure-blood future of marriage, wives, and babies."
Her lip curled. "Not to mention that you didn't want word of any inappropriate liaisons to get back to your father."
A grimace passed over his features before he continued hurriedly, "I had plenty of urges, so yes, there was some hetero sex, but I assure you that I will never go back. Men are much more pleasing."
"I can't argue with you there," she agreed with quirked lips.
A wide smile suddenly lit his features, and she felt as though she'd caught a glimpse of just why it was that Harry had fallen for the Slytherin.
"I can't believe we're having this discussion. I'm going to stop immediately. He'll come back, you say?"
"Eventually, of course he will." She considered their options. "If you wish, I can tell you where he is."
"You can do that?" Draco said suspiciously. "Have a lot of hidden talents that I don't know about?"
"Probably," she answered easily. "We've only been on truly friendly terms for all of a week, Draco; you can't expect to learn all there is to know about me in so short a time. It would be best if you don't ask what I'm doing."
She made Harry's dot visible again on the Map and quickly located him. "He's foregone the kitchen entirely and is in an abandoned classroom on the sixth floor. Not sure quite when he found that hidey-hole."
Draco was staring at the Map with awe. "Is that—?"
"All of Hogwarts laid out with labels for each and every student, professor, and visitor? Why, yes, yes, it is. Aren't you going after Harry?"
He looked at her, completely gobsmacked as she smiled at him angelically, and then he rolled his eyes as he headed obediently for the door.
"I'm coming back. I'm asking questions. I'm getting answers," he declared determinedly.
"Good goals. Noble goals. I look forward to seeing how they turn out for you," she said with a smile.
He was still shaking his head at her attitude as the gargoyle re-formed behind him. She tracked his progress on the Map until she saw that he'd made it safely to Harry's location, and then she declared her mischief managed before she was tempted to watch them until they returned. If they lost control of themselves and shagged in the classroom, she didn't really want to be watching. She considered the notion. Probably.
Smirking to herself, she imagined either of their reactions to that possible interest on her part. Then she thought of how Severus would react, and she had a good chuckle before she took the opportunity to pop into her lab and make sure that everything was in order with the Weresbane. It was almost at the end of the twenty-four hour simmer that she had begun yesterday, and then she'd have to complete a couple more hours' work after dinner before she had her detention.
The Weresbane itself wouldn't be added until Sunday night, and since it had to be of the utmost freshness, it was still planted in the greenhouse. She'd been checking on it with such frequency that even Pomona was giving her strange looks. She couldn't risk anything ruining this attempt now, though; she had both Draco and Remus counting on her.
Once she'd assured herself that her potion was progressing just as it ought, she verified the Weresbane plant one more time, just in case. It was still fine. Since she was on the grounds, she nipped over to visit Hagrid. The gamekeeper was surprised to see her without Harry, and she explained that the other Gryffindor was in the midst of some personal difficulties that required some time away from her.
She would just as soon be absent while he went through this bout of irrationality; if he honestly thought that she and Draco could be interested in one another, he was out of his mind. Perhaps he'd decided that since she didn't think she could get her Slytherin, she was going after his? She snorted at the very thought.
Hagrid served her tea and told her all about the extremely odd creatures he'd bred for the fifth-years to take care of. Hermione thought that he had to have an intuitive but brilliant grasp of wizarding biology that most people didn't recognize; she didn't know anyone with his knack for crossing species and producing viable results. That they were all a bit scary was somewhat unfortunate, but it was still a rather amazing achievement.
After tea, she returned to her quarters where she found that Harry was alone on the couch. He wore an expression that she had difficulty identifying. It was only as he leapt up and threw himself at her, holding on with a death grip, that she realized what it was: bliss.
"I love you, 'Mione," he declared.
She was a little worried about where this was going until the world righted itself as he whispered in her ear, "He kissed me."
She drew back to beam delightedly at him. "Harry, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you."
"He said right after that he shouldn't have done it, that the time wasn't right or something, but then he said he wished he could do it again, so I knew it was okay, and you know, 'Mione, it was just like I always thought it was supposed to be, and not at all like those horrible kisses with Cho, and I don't understand how I could ever think that I was interested in her, 'cause when I'm with Draco, it's all like heat and fire, and it's totally wonderful, and with her I was busy being confused and wondering what was up with the wetness, and Draco just knew exactly what he was doing, and I felt like I was going to melt into a pile of goo, and it was the happiest moment of my life!"
She was glad that he'd managed to find an end to his sentence and draw breath, as she'd been a little concerned about accidental asphyxiation.
"Maybe you should go lie down for a bit," she suggested gently.
If he didn't calm himself down, he wouldn't last ten minutes through dinner before someone guessed he'd pulled; he looked blissful enough that it could cause awkward questions. She was really quite impressed that Draco had managed to rock Harry's world with one kiss. The Slytherin's intention of not being at all intimate with Harry seemed to be crumbling day by day, and she hoped that meant that even if her cure didn't work, he wouldn't be able to let Harry go.
The more time they spent in one another's company, the more certain she was that Harry and Draco were meant to be together. Much as she'd teased Draco about it, she really wasn't altogether surprised that Harry's attention had focussed on the blond. They'd always had a very intense relationship, and once Harry realized that he liked blokes, it was only a matter of time until he realized just whom he'd been staring at for years. Even as an outside observer, it felt to her that the two of them were connecting on a meaningful level. It was as though their years of animosity had inverted, and all the connections they had forged in previous years could now be used for good.
They were joking about topics that she was sure should have set the two of them off explosively. And since they were both trying, they were wise enough to steer clear of Sirius and Lucius and other prominent disasters, but otherwise they were able to chat about most of the antics that they had got up to in the earlier years of their schooling without biting one another's heads off.
It was the weirdest courtship she'd ever seen, but she was perfectly willing to go with the flow. She was happy that they weren't letting the past get in their way, and she was really hoping that the same could hold true for her relationship with Severus.
When she and Draco had some private time without Harry, she made sure that he was preparing for her cure by spending plenty of time thinking about the wolf. She wasn't about to risk the same sort of fiasco he had evidently had when he started thinking about ferrets. Fortunately, Harry seemed to have recovered his composure following the kiss and didn't seem to be in any danger of thinking that she was trying to steal his man from him.
Currently, they were perched on stools in her lab; Harry thought they were brewing.
"I'm telling you," Draco said impatiently, "I wasn't thinking about ferrets."
"Did you actually want to turn into a ferret?" she quizzed.
He made a face. "Of course I didn't. I'm just ferret-like, I guess. You don't get to pick what animal you want to be."
His fair skin was really no good for hiding blushes, and it appeared that he hadn't managed to train quite all of them out.
"Don't be silly. Although," she admitted, "it's true that you might not be one hundred percent without any ferret-like characteristics. They're kind of sneaky like you."
"Hey—" he protested.
She tilted her head as she considered him. "But when I think about you, that's not the overall impression that I get."
"My magic doesn't agree with you," he said, sounding annoyed. "I meditated, I did the spells, and I came out a snow-white ferret."
"Have you examined yourself?"
He looked at her as though she were insane.
"Have you looked to see if you're exactly like the ferret that … Moody turned you into?"
He gave her an odd look, and she was glad she'd caught herself just in time. After his spectacular failure to kill Harry, it seemed that Voldemort had not advertised all the details to his Death Eaters despite his triumphant resurrection. Or Lucius hadn't shared the news with his son, anyway, so the blond had no idea who had really taught them Defence in fourth year.
She was unused to guarding her tongue in these rooms, and she'd either have to get better at that or get used to the idea that Draco was soon going to know all their secrets. She was pretty sure she knew which option Harry was going to vote for.
The Gryffindor had been adorably embarrassed when he came to ask her to add Draco to the wards. They'd made it all of a day with Draco out of the hospital before Harry had decided that Draco needed to have access to their chambers without their having to invite him in every time. It was probably the cutest thing she'd ever seen, and she'd mercilessly reminded him of how he'd been so sure that he wouldn't mind that she had to be the one to add people to the wards. She'd made the adjustments with a minimum of actual fuss, but it had been fun to see Harry blush so much.
Draco's expression made it plain that he thought what she said was particularly daft. His tone indicated the same as he said darkly, "No, I haven't taken photographs of myself and compared it to Pensieved memories of other people's sight of me from fourth year."
"You might have looked in a mirror," she said mildly. "I'm sure someone would have been happy to give you a look at their memory of the event." He glared at her as she didn't hide her amusement very well. "Besides, you've got a very bendy body as a ferret; I'm sure you could have looked at whole sections of yourself without trouble."
"When Moody turned me into a ferret, I wasn't concerned with what I looked like! I had no idea what was going on," he spat.
She considered how to get him to understand what she was really saying. "You spent a lot of time thinking about what it felt like to be turned into a ferret?"
"Of course I did!" he said defensively. "One second I was me and the next I'd been turned into a furry little animal. It was an extremely bizarre sensation."
Finally, they were getting somewhere. "The next time you were supposed to turn into an animal, did you think extensively about that particular sensation? The one other time you'd turned into an animal?"
An arrested expression appeared on his face.
"I think you meditated on exactly what it was like to turn into a ferret," she explained. "Your body knew that animal. I'm not saying that will work for everyone; they can't pick an animal they want, meditate on it, and turn into it. But since it was unconscious on your part, I'm guessing that your magic picked up on it, and it may indeed have decided that there were adequate characteristics between you and the ferret."
He made a face. "I knew I had good reason to hate Moody."
She lost the battle with her tongue.
"Actually, the person you hate is Barty Crouch, Jr., one of Voldemort's most ardent supporters."
"I beg your pardon?"
As succinctly as possible, she explained.
"Come again?"
She gave a few more details.
He came close to gaping at her. "And that's why Harry wound up in the cemetery?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"I read the Quibbler just like everybody else did," he said with annoyance.
She accepted this, agreeing, "That's why Harry wound up in the cemetery."
It had been a detail they had glossed over even in the Quibbler interview because they were talking about a Death Eater teaching everyone's children for almost an entire year. It would likely have caused complete panic. They'd wanted people to understand that Voldemort was back, not remove their children from the school and lose all confidence in Albus.
She saw Draco swallow. "And he's still willing to trust me?"
She nodded. "But he's been put through a great deal. You've got to be gentle with him. Serious about him."
She realized that she'd changed pretty quickly from that daft notion that Harry could have one night with the Slytherin to sustain him for a life of loneliness after that. Here she was talking intent and commitment with the other man. It was a shift in viewpoint that had occurred speedily and unconsciously. Maybe it was seeing the two of them interact all the time; they both seemed to be so engaged that she wasn't about to let either of them do something stupid if she could help it.
"I've always been quite serious about Harry," Draco said stiffly.
She laid a hand on his arm. "I don't want to fight with you about this, Draco, I just want you to realize that despite how well you two have been getting along recently, Harry has a very troubled past, and you, your father, and Voldemort feature in a rather large part of it. I'm not saying you have to walk on eggshells around him, but I don't want you to forget about it."
"Why would I walk on eggshells around him?" he asked, looking truly puzzled.
Oops. "Muggle phrase, apparently. Hypothetically, if you were going to walk on eggshells, you would have to do so gently so as not to break them. It just means treading carefully around someone."
He shook his head. "That's bizarre."
"Most expressions of that nature are for both Muggles and wizards." He opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, so she continued, "But I don't think we should engage in a debate about it at the moment. I have one last comment to make about you and Harry. May I?"
He looked a cross between amused and resigned. "I doubt I could stop you."
"I do seem to be rather interfering, don't I?" she acknowledged with good humour. "I'm worried that you'll miscommunicate between yourselves, and I really want to see somebody happy."
He looked like he wanted to question her again, so she hurried on.
"I have the distinct feeling that as soon as you're able, you're going to sweep Harry off his feet. When he remembers, can you please reassure him that I don't mind?"
Draco frowned. "I believe you assured me that you don't care for him."
"I still don't want to have sex with him," she confirmed as solemnly as she could, wondering if this pretend relationship she and Harry had had would haunt her forever. "At some point, however, Harry will remember that we weren't going to leave one of us as the only Pure Adult in existence."
"I'm sure I can—" Draco began.
She shook her head and assured him, "That's not what I want at all. The reason he hasn't done anything yet is because it hasn't been possible with you. As soon as it is, there's no reason for him not to be happy. I know he'll feel guilty, that's all, and I don't want to ruin that moment for him. You should both be happy."
"Why are you so certain that we'll get together before you and your mystery man?"
"I simply am." If she gave any indication as to why, he might well guess who she was trying not to mention. She changed the subject. "Now, have you been thinking about the wolf?"
He rolled his eyes, but as this was extremely important to him, he allowed himself to be distracted.
"Of course I have." He had a better work ethic than Ron or Harry, she'd give him that, so when she quizzed him as she would them, he tended to find her behaviour annoying. "I've been reading all of these books and looking at all of these pictures, but I'm not sure that I really 'know' the wolf any better than I did before."
"Every little bit helps," she said encouragingly.
He pursed his lips. "I know all kinds of useless facts."
"They're not useless," she protested immediately. "They're going to help you integrate the possibility of being a wolf with your human self. I'm going to make sure that you have all the necessary information to make that happen. I've got two options for you, and you may want to start with this one." She held up a sheaf of papers.
He didn't look overjoyed by more reading material. "What is it?"
"Notes on what it's like to be a wolf. Smells, sight, hearing. The feeling of running with the ground beneath your paws. The nitty-gritty details."
"Lupin?" he asked.
She nodded. "I told him I needed it to make my test study complete. He obliged, and they arrived this morning."
"And what's option number two?" Draco asked hopefully.
She offered this choice with relish: "I can change you into a wolf, much as Crouch did with the ferret."
Draco grabbed the sheaf of papers. "More reading, oh, goody."
She laughed, having been pretty certain of his response, and watched as he settled in for more reading. The truth of the matter was that he'd do just about anything for this cure, and they both knew it.