Arithmancy for Muggles

Chapter Eleven: Say What

Harry clearly could not bear the strain. His face disappeared into his hands. After a long, still moment, his body began to shake.

Hermione glanced nervously at Severus, who shrugged. “Harry?” She wondered if she’d gone too far.

Taking his hands away from his face, she could see the tears glistening on his cheeks and the openmouthed glee as he laughed helplesslythe the face of Hermione’s peculiar brand of “wandless magic.”

“Hermione!” He gasped in between deep-throated chuckles. “You nut! Wandless magic, my arse!”

Relieved, and slightly ashamed, Hermione offered a hand and helped her old school chum to his feet. “Well? What was I supposed to do? Cast Crucio with a yellow HB pencil?”

“If anyone could, you could, Hermione.” Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Harry.” She was not, however, prepared for the bone-crushing Hagrid-style hug he bestowed on her. “Oof! My ribs!”

Harry released her grudgingly. “Sorry.”

“And, phew! You stink, Harry.” Hermione wrinkled her nose. “When was the last time you had a real washing up? One with soap and clean towels and hot water, I mean, not just a quick cleansing spell?”

“Um...”

“Never mind. You’re looking as greasy as Sn... something very greasy.” Hermione hoped Snape had cau caught her slip into childhood comparisons. “You’ll feel better once you’ve cleaned up, and I never did trust the plumbing at Grimmauld. Come on, let me get you some towels and something to change into because I refuse to listen to another word from you until you’ve washed the stench of St. Mungo’s from your sorry carcass.” She grabbed Harry’s shirtsleeve and dragged him to the linen cupboard, loading his arms with clean towels and a fresh bar of soap. “It’s not the prefects’ bath, but I’ve got good water pressure and there’s a huge boiler, so don’t stint on the hot water.”

Harry stood, still smiling faintly, as Hermione disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a clean white t-shirt, thick white socks and a pair of pink stretchy sweat pants. It justjust like being back at Hogwarts, when Hermione used to boss him around regarding sensible study schedules and regular sleeping habits.

“I know pink isn’t exactly your color, but it should fit you.” She added the clothes to the top of the pile. “Well? You have your marching orders. There’s the bathroom.” She pointed. “Wash.”

“Yes, Miss Granger.” Harry ducked his head in mock subservience and disappeared into the bath.

Hermione turned around to see Snape’s chest, inches from her nose. She looked up. “I still have your shoes.”

“Is this your way of telling me you want them off your hands?” He looked hurt.

“I think your new lover might object.” Hermione shrugged, trying not to let it get to her. “Did she get you those slippers? Does she have some secret Dumbledore fetish or something?”

“For such a brilliant woman, you’re proving particularly dense,” he murmured, taking her into his arms.

She responded, of course. Six months of loneliness, frustration and isolation fused her lips to his. Twining fingers in his hair and pressing wantonly against him, this lasted for several breathless moments before Hermione’s brain kicked back into gear. She pushed away, panting.

“Six months, Snape. You said you’d come back.”

“I have.”

He closed the gap between them. It felt like forever, and no time at all, since last they met.

Harry turned the water on, sending the pipes into a loud chorus of knocking and rattling. Severus and Hermione jumped apart guiltily, Hermione laughing nervously.

Snape sighed and took another step back. “Before I forget, I brought you a gift. But first, I must confess it was not entirely my idea.” Snape reached into an inner pocket of his robes and produced a miniature book he immediately restored to normal size. “Vector thought you might like this.”

Accepting the large volume curiously, Hermione was on the verge of asking what it was when she lifted the front cover. “This looks like someone’s journal.”

“Yes.” Snape gestured that she should turn the page. “I have tried to keep my thoughts coherent, and much of the wilder speculation has absolutely no evidence to support it.”

Stunned, Hermione leafed through the densely written text, pages of parties and personalities, records of rituals and routines. “You wrote this?”

“I’ve been a bit busy, as you can see. Vector said this was the sort of rumor and innuendo you could use in refining your calculations.” He snorted. “As for the quantity, I blthe the slippers. When I’m wearing them, people seem to forget I earned my Order of Merlin through my efforts as a spy. They tell me the most interesting things.”

Hermione could see already this was precisely the sort of information she needed. A part of her itched to open her workbook and start scribbling, but she closed the journal and set it safely aside. “Did you even try to owl me about this?”

Severus shook his head. “I know, I know. I never owl, I never floo. My mother complained about my antisocial tendencies for most of her life. Although in this case, my paranoia was justified. Can you imagine what the consequences might be if the Ministry discovered I was helping you?”

She nodded. She could easily imagine the consequences. “Still, if you did accept banishment, you could always come and visit your shoes.” Her smile was playful, but her eyes were serious.

“You mean, I don’t get my shoes back?” Severus was willing to play along, his eyes twinkling as he closed the distance between them.

Shrugging, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know. I’ve grown rather attached to your shoes. You’d have to find some way to persuade me to part with them.” Her lips parted slightly, a blatant hint.

“Like this?” He kissed her, arms wrapping tightly around her. Hermione sighed and leaned into him.

When Harry turned the water off, Hermione pulled away slightly, panting into Snape’s neck. “Does he know?”

Severus continued planting small kisses on her face, punctuating his next words. “Does who know what?”

“Harry.” The name had the effect of a cup of water dashed in Snape’s face. “Does Harry know you’re in love with...?”

“With you?” Severus tried to breathe. Was she going to throw it in his face now? “No, I didn’t mention your name.”

Hermione bit her lower lip, now bright and swollen from kissing. “Would you mind terribly if, I mean, would you be willing to tell him?”

“Why?” His eyes darkened.

“Oh, you’re not going to like this,” Hermione predicted. “But I think Harry needs a little break from the Wizarding World.”

Snape nodded. “I agree.” He released her, and began pacing. “The problem is Dumbledore. He’s determined to help, whether he has the answers or not.”

“I think he should stay here.” She said it quickly, to get it over with. “On the couch, of course. He just needs a little time without the constant reminders of the past. Every time he picks up his wand he thinks of it. I told him to take a break, to get away from it all for a while. I didn’t mean St. Mungo’s. That’s the last place he needs to be right now, with awestruck mediwitches asking for his autograph at every shift change. He needs a non-magical haven. And since I’m exiled, I’m not likely to get random magical visitors here, am I?”

“Again, though I hate the result of your reasoning, I have to agree.” Severus frowned. He tried not to think of Harry living in Hermione’s apartment, sharing her bathroom, eating breakfast with her, spending idle time in her presence. Jealousy clenched a fist in his chest. “So, Harry stays here. This might even work to our advantage. I suspect the Ministry blockade is centered on you, specifically. If I can receive owls here, it stands to reason that Harry might also.”

Hermione nodded. “Good thought.” She glanced nervously toward the bathroom door.o, oo, one of us should tell Harry about us so he doesn’t think it’s odd that you’re spending the night with me.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t I just sneak into your bedroom with a silencing charm so your friend doesn’t hear?”

“It sounds so sordid, put like that.” Hermione touched his shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be easier just to tell Harry and come clean about our relationship?”

“What relationship?” Severus asked coldly. “We’re just having sex.”

He could see that he’d hurt Hermione, but he didn’t care. If she was feeling the same gut-twisting pain that he felt at the thought of Harry Potter usurping his place in Hermione’s heart, that was good.

“But you said...?” Confusion muddled those clear eyes of hers. She choked and continued in a whisper, “But you said you were in love with me.”
nd ynd you said you weren’t sure you could return my tender feelings,” Snape pointed out. “What I may or may not feel with regards to you does not constitute a relationship. We may have an attraction, an affair or an alliance, but we do not yet have a relationship.”

Hurt turned to anger. Hands on hips, Hermione attacked with brutal words. “And we never will if you’re going to be like this!”

“How would you have me be, instead? Lying and sniveling like a beaten lapdog?” Severus crossed his arms over his chest. “I have played that part with Voldemort and I did not care for it. I will not lie to you. Yes, I have fallen in love with you. But I will not crawl to win you. If you cannot love me for who I am, grease and all...”

Hermione cringed as the barb struck home. He had understood her comment to Harry earlier. She bounced back with an angry retort. “Fine. But I’m keeping your shoes. You can wear the damn carpet slippers the rest of your life, for all I care!”

Harry overheard this last bit of the argument as he came out of the bathroom and rushed in defensively. “Is Snape giving you a hard time, Hermione? I didn’t mean to cause any trouble by bringing him here.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Potter, but if I recall correctly, I brought you here, not the other way around.” Snape drew his robes around himself, sneering at the two Gryffindors. “I will bid you a good night, Mr. Potter.” He nodded to Harry, then to Hermione, who had to clench her fists at her sides to keep from reaching for him. “Miss Granger. I know the way out.”

Hermione waited until she heard the door slam before acknowledging Harry’s concern. “It’s okay, Harry. I’m glad you’re here, no matter how you found me.”

“Did you really have dinner with the greasy git?” Harry asked, teasing her gently.

“You really should be more careful with your insults, Harry. Until that shower you just took, you had accumulated more grease than Snape ever wore.” Hermione ruffled his damp hair into place with a sisterly affection. “Yes, I had dinner with him. He’s helping me on a project.”

“I could help you,” Harry offered tentatively. “Couldn’t I?”

Smiling more genuinely, Hermione ruffled his hair again. “Yes, you could help me. Why don’t you stay here for a few days? Grimmauld is hardly a place I’d want to be living alone. It’ll be just like old times in Gryffindor Tower. Would you like some hot cocoa before bedtime?”

Harry agreed shyly. “I think I would.”

“Good. I’ll get you some clean sheets for the couch. The clothes washer is off the kitchen. Why don’t you throw your dirty things in for a cycle before you make up the bed?” Hermione didn’t wait for him to agree, assuming he’d follow her commands. He did.

As the washer rumbled through its cycle, Hermione poured hot cocoa into large mugs and brought them and a packet of biscuits into the living room where Harry was tucking a pillow into a clean pillowcase.

“We should sit on the floor so we don’t get crumbs in your bed,” Hermione announced, practically. Harry and Hermione sat on displaced cushions on the floor, leaning back against the couch, as they sipped their hot drinks.

Harry seemed livelier now than he had when he arrived. “I don’t want to talk about St. Mungo’s and you don’t want to talk about exile, and neither of us have any current gossip.”

This conversational sally made Hermione laugh. She tried not to spew a mouthful of cocoa on the carpet in front of her. With diffiy, sy, she swallowed. “Who says I have no gossip? I ran into Mr. Ollivander a little while ago. Did you know that his shop has a web presence?”

“Really?” Harry seemed mildly surprised.

“If you get up before I do tomorrow, feel free to muck about with the laptop in the kitchen. I’ve got wireless Internet, so all you have to do is power it on and pull up a browser window. I’ve saved it in the favorites folder.”

Harry nodded, looking slightly mystified. He finished his cocoa and Hermione nibbled the last biscuit.

“Do you need anything before you can sleep?” Hermione finally asked, accepting his empty mug.

“No, I think I’ll sleep well. Your flat is very peaceful.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Well, goodnight.” She stood, shaking the crumbs off her shirt with one hand, the two empty mugs in her other. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Hermione.” He was already yawning as he climbed under the blankets. “Pleasant dreams.”

“You, too, Harry.” The quiet companionability inspired by cocoa had taken the edge off of Hermione’s Snape-inspired tension. She would think about what might have been later, when she was rested and not quite so emotional.

She left the dirty mugs in the kitchen sink and turned off all the lights on her way to the bathroom. Quietly completing her evening routine, she noticed Harry was already asleep by thint int artificial light glowing through the curtains. Hermione walked into her dark bedroom, closing the door behind her before turning on the light, so not to disturb him.

The light revealed Severus Snape sitting in the middle of her bed, holding his shoes in his lap.

“You had them polished,” he said.

“They were collecting dust.” She started undressing, as if he wasn’t there. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Silencing charm. You really should lock your window, you know.” Severus put his shoes back on the floor. “We need to talk.”

Seeing him sitting so comfortably on her bed, Hermione’s cocoa-induced languor evaporated. “So talk.” She knew she was being arbitrary, but he’d hurt her more than she wanted to acknowledge. She pulled a forbidding flannel nightgown over her head before divesting herself of the last of her underwear.

“I’m sorry.” Snape was clearly irritated, offering his apology in a perfunctory manner. “Can we get over the teen-aged fit of hormones and talk about this like adults?”

He had a point. Hermione thought about it. “No, I don’t think we can. I’m far too emotional right now. I don’t like keeping secrets. I don’t like lying to my friends. And I hate feeling rushed, and I didn’t have nearly enough time to kiss you properly and I’m feeling very frustrated with that.”

Severus blinked, unmoving, and said nothing.

Hermione continued to fill the nervous silence. “I’m not sure what inspired me to proposition you that night. I thought maybe I was lonely or maybe I was scared of losing my connection to the magical world. I thought maybe you were just a symbol of what I was giving up, that my desire for you was a displaced manifestation of desire for the life I was losing. Then you left your shoes, which reminded me of all those things you’d said about leaving your heart behind when you left, and I didn’t want to think about that too closely because it made me feel...”

“What did you feel, Hermione?” His voice was soft, soothing.

“Hapnd snd sad at the same time.” She approached the bed slowly to lean against the footboard. “I missed you, Severus. And, yes, I missed the magical world, too, but I missed you in a different way. I met Mr. Ollivander one day, which made me feel melancholy too, but I didn’t find him half as attractive as I find you.”

\"You find Ollivander attractive?\"

Sticking her nose in the air, Hermione defended herself primly. \"Purely an intellectual attraction I assure you.\"

“And your attraction to me?”

Sitting gingerly on the edge of her own bed, Hermione c not not restrain a smug little smile. “Not entirely intellectual.”

“Shall I take that as a positive sign?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Severus, I’m still not sure about my feelings for you,” Hermione warned as his knee bumped her hip. “Maybe it’s just that love is such a big word. I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t want to say that I love when maybe that’s not what I’m feeling at all.” She hitched herself a little closer to him. “Maybe what I’m feeling is just indigestion from eating too much muggle food.”

“Hmmm.” Severus laid his hand, warm and firm, on her ribcage, just beneath her breasts. “Does it feel like someone squeezing gently, just under here?”

For some reason, Hermione found it somewhat difficult to answer him. Her breath became short and gasping. “A little higher.”

He nudged her breasts apart, pressing his hand between them, against her sternum. “Here?”

Hermione nodded.

“Yes. I get that, too.” He took his hand away, leaving her suddenly cold, despite the flannel nightgown. “But haven’t eaten muggle food for a number of months now.”

Silence reigned. Neither of them moved.

“I’m sorry. It’s really none of Harry’s business what our relationship is.” Hermione added hastily, “if indeed we were to have a relationship. I shouldn\'t have pushed you about that.”

Severus accepted the apology. \"I do believe we\'ve just had our first lover\'s quarrel.\"

\"I suppose so,\" Hermione agreed sheepishly. \"Do we get to have make-up sex now?\"

Her winsome smile caused a feeling in Severus that felt not entirely unlike indigestion. He pulled her across his lap. “Yes, but first I want to ask you a question. Would you, theoretically, want a relationship with me beyond the bedroom?” Severus spoke calmly, but he held his breath waiting for the answer.

Hermione, tired of talking, pounced on her lover, knocking him backwards onto the bed and climbing to straddle him. “If you can put up with me and my eternal waffling, I can put up with you and your premature declarations.”

“It was only the once, and I hear it happens to lots of wizards at some time in their life.” Snape grinned wickedly and flipped her onto her back, reversing their positions. “But you’re dodging the question. Do you want more from me than the occasional tumble across the sheets?”

Biting her lip, Hermione stalled. “What’s the right answer?”

“The honest answer is the right one.” He held her firmly, despite her attempt to wiggle free. “This isn’t a trick question. I simply wish to know what your intentions are before we continue.”

“So, you’re staying the night?”

“Yes.” The information seemed to please her. Severus took this as a good sign. “Do you want more of me than my nights? Shall I allow myself to hope?”

The dominance game was growing tiresome. Severus let Hermione squirm out of his embrace. Instead of escaping, she pressed herself closer to him, hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him to lie with her on the bed. Hiding her face against his neck she whispered, “You should hope” and planted a kiss beneath his ear.

It was enough. Severus doused the light as Hermione pulled her nightgown off over her head. They could talk more in the morning.