Hermione/Severus Fiction

Saturnin strode to the bar, scattering pre-teens as he went.

"Amaretto?" the barmaid asked, automatically reaching to scoop some ice into a glass.

Saturnin, however, was no longer in the mood for sipping alcohol. "Bourbon, double, no ice." He should have cut his losses as soon as Granger made an appearance. The Giles family were never going to send their child to a school run by a murderer. He had no legitimate reason to stay. He poured the sour mash down his throat and set his empty glass on the bar.

"Need that, did you?"

It was the blond vampire.

"One for the road," Saturnin answered in a caustic tone that would have discouraged most people from further conversation.

Spike wasn't most people. "So, where's your little lady?"

"I don't have a lady, little or otherwise."

Spike lifted an eyebrow. "Sure you do. That cute teacher from the school that sounds like a pig disease. Or have you had a fallin' out?"

"We've never had a falling in," Saturnin replied, his lips drawn tight. "And what, exactly, has she been telling you?"

"Hermione? No more than she said in front of you. Of course, that was enough for us to go ask Anya. She didn't seem to think it was a huge secret."

Saturnin gave up on his plan to go back to his hotel, pack, and Portkey to Durmstrang. "And just how many people did Mrs Giles tell?"

"Just me, the missus an' Angel. Don't worry."

Saturnin's lips formed a grimace. "I'm not worried." Obliviating three people was hardly a challenge, even if it was inconvenient. "What time do you get rid of the ankle-biters?"

Spike nodded to the corner nearest the entrance. "Parents are starting to show up already. We'll shut down the DJ in about twenty minutes. Tidy up a bit, give the staff time for coffee an' a fag or somethin' to eat. Back in business for eleven. You're welcome to hang around."

"Better give me another."

"Well, I'm sure you must have a long day tomorrow, Catherine," Giles suggested with a slightly pained smile.

"Not really," the last of the parents replied.

"Well, I wouldn't want Miss Gutierrez blaming us if Michelle is falling asleep—"

Suddenly, the lights in the club went up to full dizzying brightness and Spike raised his voice, possibly prompted by a nudge from Anya. "You know the routine, ladies and gents! You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. We've got a club to run."

Buffy took a more personal approach. "I'm afraid we need to clear up, if you could move your conversation outside..."

The woman cast one last covetous glance in Giles' direction before she allowed Buffy to usher her and her daughter out.

"Okay, everyone!" Buffy shouted drawing a bill from her jeans pocket. "Break time! Anyone going by Starbucks, grab the usual for me and Spike."

The DJ swiped the note from Buffy's hand before she exited via a door designated for employees only.

"Smoke 'em if you've got 'em!" Spike added, as Elise and the male bartender lifted back part of the bar counter and filed out.

The bouncer who had greeted Saturnin and Hermione earlier came through from the foyer, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of the slender vampiress as they headed for the back door.

"Half an hour, folks!" Spike reminded them. "Don't make me come lookin' for ya."

Anya took a seat on the bar stool next to Saturnin, resting her back against the counter and extending a hand to Giles as he came to join her. "What did you do to Hermione?" she demanded of Saturnin as she twined her fingers with her husband's.

Saturnin's glittering gaze swung from the drink in front of him to meet Anya's head on. "Why does everyone assume that I did something?" he asked sotto voce.

Hermione was alone in the toilets when the dampened echoes of pounding baselines abruptly ceased. "No matter," she told herself. "It's not like I can get locked in."

Before she had left the cubicle, she had used a Cleansing Charm to obliterate every last trace of her cosmetics, leaving her face once more as a blank canvas. She set her handbag on the shelf over one of the wash basins and stared at her reflection. Severus Snape had no idea what he was missing out on.

First things first. She found the vial of eye refreshing solution she kept for after long marking sessions. She tipped back her head and added a couple of drops to each eye, banishing the gritty feeling and healing the blood vessels. Another balm quickly soothed the dry and reddened skin her tears had caused.

A quick dusting of powder foundation and a delicately smudged application of eyeliner made her feel almost human again. She chose a shimmering lip gloss the colour of pink champagne before she turned her attention to her creased and tired-looking top. She discarded the Slytherin silver rag, her hand hovering briefly over her bag before she threw it into the paper towel bin. There was no point in pretending she would ever want to wear it again.

She knew that quite a few women would consider the ivory strapless bustier which she wore as perfectly decent club wear, but she added a chiffon blouse, the colour of autumn leaves. Then, she swapped her high-heels for some more comfortable sandals in natural leather.

Lastly, she tackled the hair. Far too much of it had come loose in her temper for her to salvage it. She pulled out the pins and carded her fingers through it until it hung free. Normally, it reached the bottom of her shoulder blades in a riot of thick curls. Having been braided when her hair was wet and combed through with Sleekeazy, it spilled to her waist in waves that looked as if she had attacked it with oversized crimpers. She twirled a section at each side into a loose coil and then fixed them at the back of her head with a copper clasp.

She stared at her rebuilt reflection in the mirror and knew that she had every reason to feel good about what she saw. This was her. Maybe, at first glance, it was a softer look than her more sophisticated appearance earlier. The woman in the mirror was simply Hermione, no pretence, no veneer, no extra effort. There was nothing soft, however, about the expression which she wore.

She strode directly toward the knot of people gathered at the bar, planning to say her goodbyes to the Giles family and then leave.

As she approached, Anya rose from her seat and came to greet her. "That was a quick change," the blonde remarked.

Hermione couldn't prevent her instinctive glare in Snape's direction as she answered, "I felt dirty."

"Are you alright?" Giles asked, his gaze flicking back and forth between the witch and wizard.

Hermione arranged her features into a polite smile. "It's nothing. I—" She cast another disparaging look in the direction of the bar. "You've been wonderful hosts. I don't know if Audrey told you she'd mentioned the possibility of Doctor Księcia and me dropping by after school tomorrow to discuss her situation further?"

Giles gave a nod. "Seven o'clock at our home?" he suggested.

Hermione smiled in response and offered Giles her hand. "I'll look forward to it." Having shaken Giles' hand, she turned to Anya. To her surprise the former-demon took her into her arms. "If you want him cursed, I still know people in the business," she whispered in Hermione's ear.

"That's alright," Hermione answered. "I'm sure, if I really wanted, I could find something appropriate, but I'm inclined to think that nothing could really make him much more miserable than comes naturally."

"Keys!" Audrey demanded as she and Robert each set a handful of bags on the floor. While Giles rummaged in his pockets, Audrey turned to Hermione. "You're leaving?"

"That's the plan," Hermione agreed. "Do you need any help with those? I can give you a hand on my way to the taxi rank."

"Sure." Audrey took the car keys from her dad's hand and passed Hermione the largest of the three bags she'd been carrying.

"Better use the back door, Niblet!" Spike called out. "Steve should've locked up the front when he went for his break."

"Be careful," Anya warned her children. "If anyone's hanging around in the alley come straight back in."

"Mo-o-om," Robert complained. "This isn't the Hellmouth. As if any other vamp would hang around here anyway!"

Giles gave his son a cuff that did nothing more than ruffle his hair. "Just keep your eyes open. Vampires aren't the only things that come out at night. We'll be there in a minute, just as soon as Spike separates me from the contents of my wallet."

Buffy and Angel watched as Hermione accompanied Robert and Audrey to the door. They waited until she was out of hearing to start humming under their breaths.

Spike couldn't make out any tune, but the length of the supposed notes was enough. He raised his right hand in acknowledgment, index and middle finger raised, and continued his discussion with Giles.

"What's that about?" Giles asked.

"Buffy and I have a little bet. Looks like she's going to win," Spike replied.

Hermione tugged at the door, to no effect. She put down her bag so that she could use both hands, but it didn't move.

"Or maybe not," Spike added with a gleeful glint in his eye as he swiped Giles' cash off the counter and put it in a cash bag along with the slip for the till reading. He gave Saturnin a huge grin. "You sneaky bastard!"

Audrey tapped Hermione on the shoulder. The witch stepped aside and the girl tried the door. Her brother stepped forward, adding his weight, but still it remained immovable.

Giles' brows knotted together and he turned on Księcia. "Might I suggest that, whatever dispute you and Professor Krum are having, you refrain from involving my children?"

Saturnin bit back his, "Or what?" He swivelled on his stool to face the Watcher. "Unlike your wife, I have lived my entire life according to the Statute of Secrecy."

Anya rolled her eyes. "As if it's a big deal telling two vampires and a Slayer that our daughter's a witch."

"It directly contravenes the rules by which our society exists," Saturnin argued.

"Phooey!" Anya replied. "They aren't exactly ignorant to begin with. They probably know more about how the world really is than most witches or wizards ever will."

"Can we quibble about semantics after we work out why a perfectly good door has suddenly decided it's a wall?" Giles demanded. "Buffy, check the front. Spike, Angel, see if brute strength and ignorance can succeed where everything else has failed."

"Snape!" Hermione called out in challenge as she stalked her way back toward the bar. "Does this have anything to do with you?"

Saturnin tossed back the contents of his glass. "I don't know. Does it?" he asked, slipping from his stool and meeting Hermione part way. "I would have gone home after your tantrum, if your earlier indiscretions hadn't made it necessary for me to await an opportunity to perform a certain task often carried out by the members of the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes Squad. However, since your mood seems to swing with the regularity of a metronome, perhaps you decided that you couldn't bear for me to leave."

"I'd sooner lock myself in a six-foot cell with a manticore," Hermione shrilly assured him, rising up on tip-toe as she spoke so that her face was mere inches from his.

"I can assure you the feeling is entirely mutual," Saturnin responded in a silky whisper.

"Then perhaps, if it isn't you doing this, it's time you used your so-called expertise in the Dark Arts to work out how to get us out of here?" Hermione hissed.

Saturnin leaned in even more closely, placing his lips so near to Hermione's ear that her hair brushed against his cheek. "Miss Granger, you would do well to remember that I am well acquainted with your magical signature. You may protest as much as you like, but I know you expended a large amount of magical energy just after you left our table. I could feel it tingling on my skin, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Now, undo whatever you have done and let us both return to our lives. I will even help you with the requisite Memory Charms... if you set things right before the American Ministry becomes involved."

Hermione leaned in to reply equally discreetly. "I earthed some stray magic," she whispered sweetly. "Be glad that's all I did or tingles would have been the least of your worries."

"You earthed some stray magic?" Saturnin purred disbelievingly. "Am I meant to believe you lost control like some hormonal adolescent?"

Hermione stepped back. She'd had enough of his games and wanted to read his face. "Wasn't that what you wanted?" she demanded. "Isn't that exactly why you said what you did? Because you couldn't resist one last chance to cut the Gryffindor know-it-all down to size?"

Saturnin snorted. "You are deluded, madam. All I said was that I found your company surprisingly pleasant and that, at that time, before I realised that you were mentally unstable, I was content to spend time with you."

"Hah! You two-faced Slytherin!" Hermione spat. "You may not have said the actual words but I caught the inference loud and clear. As you pointed out, I'm not completely stupid. I'm sure in the circles you customarily move in you can get away with saying that your companion isn't quite ugly enough to make you want to chew your arm off in the morning so you thought you might as well see if you could get your leg over—"

"That is not what I said!"

"It's what you made it sound like!"

"Perhaps you two could stop arguing," Giles bellowed, "and work out what exactly is keeping us all in here if it isn't either of you! You can start by checking Audrey's locket."

"I told you it wasn't the locket!" Spike protested.

"And I'd believe you," Giles answered with saccharin sweetness, "except for the fact that it comes from the same collection as one of the most highly magical items I've ever seen and this bears a striking resemblance to the time Dawn wished people would stop leaving her."

"Great, Spike," Angel grumbled. "Trust you to give a cursed necklace to an eleven-year-old. And just who did you get to check it?"

"Silence!" Severus barely raised his voice but the bickering ceased in an instant. "Miss Giles, if you would be so kind as to remove your pendant and place it on this table?" Even as Audrey fumbled with the knot Spike had tied, Severus turned away and strode toward the nearby door which separated the main club from the foyer and cloakroom.

"I thought you were going to check the necklace," Hermione found herself protesting as she followed at a slight distance.

"As I will," Saturnin drawled scornfully, "once I have ensured that there is no simpler explanation."

When Saturnin produced his wand, Hermione glanced at him askance.

As if sensing her concerns, he muttered under his breath, even as his wand went through the motions of a Scarpin's Revealer Spell. "If we are being held here by magic, Miss Granger, then it profits us little to deny its existence."

"Oh!" Hermione conceded the point as the walls and doors of the room began to iridesce with glimmering motes of pearlescent colour.

"What's he doing?" The question came from the younger of the two Giles' children, but Hermione realised that both of them had moved up to get a better view and were looking at her expectantly.

Saturnin brandished his wand in ever more complicated manoeuvres, while Hermione provided commentary, based solely on the wand movements, since he had no need for verbal incantations.

Once he had tried various different methods of opening, unlocking, Transfiguring and even Disintegrating both the door and the nearby wall to no avail, Saturnin returned his wand to his sleeve. He stepped up to the double doors that barred his way and stretched out his arm, running his fingertips gently over the painted steel, his eyelids dropping closed.

Hermione watched as Saturnin moved closer and seemed to caress the barrier with gestures eerily like a lover's touch, as if he sought to savour and memorise the sensations that flowed through him.

"And now?" Audrey asked.

"He's... hugging a door," Hermione suggested.

"I am not hugging a door, Miss Granger," Saturnin retorted, all that intensity suddenly fixed on Hermione.

She was sure his glares hadn't had that effect on her knees in her Hogwarts days. "And I am no longer Miss Granger."

"It is strange, then, that you still seem to act so much like her," Saturnin offered. "Try learning something that doesn't come out of a book. Come here." He held out a hand that both beckoned her forward and kept her from touching the walls.

Hermione hesitated, reluctant to step back into her pupil role, but she owed it to her pupils to be prepared if a similar situation occurred. She stepped up.

"First," Saturnin explained, "note the spectrum of colour for the Revealing Spell. Look for any darkness or muddiness in the colours that would indicate the source of the magic you're dealing with is dark or dubious. If there are any such indicators, then don't take any risks."

"I don't take risks—"

"Phht! And you're barred from every branch of Gringotts worldwide because you went overdrawn?" Saturnin scoffed. "Just remember that the Dark Arts is not your speciality and do not open yourself to any curses or dubious spells."

"Open myself?" Hermione asked.

Saturnin reached out, taking Hermione's left hand in his right and then passing it into his left. "Open yourself," he confirmed. "When, and only when, you're ready..." He guided her hand until her finger tips were around a centimetre from the door's surface, and he stepped up behind her. His hypnotic whispers brushed against her ear. "Take your time. Try to empty your mind and calm your emotions before you make contact. The first steps have much in common with Occlumency. Imagine a blank slate, a sheet of fresh parchment, a silent room, an empty stage, a deserted beach at midnight on a moonless night... anything you associate with emptiness, with the absence of emotion."

Hermione drew in a slow, faltering breath, held it for a few seconds and then let it ease out slowly.

"Fingertips first, the lightest possible touch," the silken voice explained. "You have my word that this is safe, but you should always be ready to withdraw the instant you feel anything off." His fingers twined loosely with hers, and he drew the very tips of their fingers to the door. "Now, let the magic in, just a trickle to begin with. Touch it, listen to it, breathe it in. Savour it the same way that you would taste a fine wine. Trust your intuition. Yes, Hermione, your intuition." He waited, letting the seconds tick by with Hermione's unruly hair brushing against his cheek, and her back less than an inch from him. "What do you feel?"

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense."

He shuffled forward. "Feel, Hermione. Disengage that formidable brain and feel."

"It's old... ancient even, but, at the same time, it isn't."

"Move in. Draw it in with your whole body, with every part of your being." He guided her closer, pinning her between the door and his body. "Anything else?" Saturnin coaxed.

"It's strange somehow, different, unfamiliar."

"Dark?" he asked.

"No, it's really not. It's not good either, but more light than dark?" Hermione suggested, feeling Saturnin's nod of agreement more than seeing it.

"Is that all?"

"Mischief?"

"Mischief," Saturnin agreed.

"And warmth, not temperature, more like affection."

The warmth came from before and behind. Hermione's stomach muscles tightened as Saturnin's whisper brushed against her skin like a light summer breeze. "Fifty points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger."