Kiss The Serpent

Chapter 4 Monday
Draco’s thoughts were triumphant as he digested his Godfather’s reaction. He’d been watching him covertly for two days and it was still business as usual. Snape didn’t so much as bat an eye when the Prophecy was revealed. Assuring Draco that there was no possible way he could be named as the traitor of the Prophecy, he had then offered him a cup of tea! Draco grinned at the memory. He was impressed. If Snape was in the clear, he owed him a debt. Things couldn’t get any better unless…

He looked around. The Hogwarts corridors, mostly empty until yesterday when the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station, were now overflowing with students calling out greetings, sharing their holiday memories and settling in for the final school term.

All I need is that stupid scarhead, the red-haired weasel and the ugly Mudblood for a bit of target practice and my day would be complete. Ah yes, well two out of three ain’t bad.

Draco started on Harry as they came into sight. “Hey Potty, lost your Weasely pet?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. They were almost at the Transfiguration classroom. Ron had ducked back to the dormitory to collect his new Transfiguration book: Man or mouse? An idiot’s guide to human transfiguration Not exactly academic literature, but at least Ron was doing his own homework.

Typically, Draco was grabbing the opportunity to get up Harry’s nose, particularly since there wasn’t anybody else around. Muggle-born Hermione didn’t seem to count as an ‘anybody’.

“Lay off, Malfoy,” Harry gritted, “unless you want to be my ferrety pet instead?”

Draco’s lip curled into his trademark sneer. “I’d like to see you try it, scarhead.”

“Can’t think up anything original to call me, Malfoy? Must be losing your touch.”

“Just saving it for the right moment, Potter.”

“Oh yeah, that would be when you have your two thuggy bodyguards, your Daddy and half of Voldemort’s army behind you…or should that be, in FRONT of you?”

“Are you calling me a coward, Potter?” Draco’s eyes glistened with unconcealed rage as he resisted the conflicting urge to both flinch at the Dark Lord’s name and thump Potter for his audacity in using it.

Harry dismissed him in a falsely bored voice. “If the shoe fits, Malfoy.”

“Gentlemen, we really should get into class,” Hermione interjected, waving a hand between their faces, which were practically nose to nose.

Neither boy moved. “No-one asked you, Mudblood!”

Harry’s face went a subtle shade of red. “That’s IT, Malfoy! I have had it with you insulting my friends.”

At the flick of Harry’s wand and a hissed charm, Hermione watched in horror as Draco Malfoy was transfigured into a small object. She bent down and picked up the fancy teacup.

“Mr Potter!” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out from the other end of the corridor. She swept towards them and snatched the teacup from Hermione’s hand, her ancient hat bobbing furiously up and down.

“Mr Potter! Miss Granger! I thought you would both have better sense. Transfiguring your fellow students in the corridors is unacceptable behaviour. Twenty points from Gryffindor for the transgression.”

With an expert swish of her wand, she tapped the tiny teacup and a few seconds later, Draco stood before them once again with dark malice in his eyes.

“Just you wait, Potter, I’ll—“

“That will be enough for today, Mr Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall interrupted him smoothly. “Let’s leave transfiguration for in the classroom, shall we? The other students are waiting.” She ushered the three of them through the door and into the room. Ron raced in seconds later and threw himself into the seat next to Harry.

Hermione was aware of Malfoy shooting dark glances their way. They would have to watch their backs. Not that this was any different to normal but Hermione had always hoped that Malfoy would eventually see the light. Instead he was getting more arrogant, and more aggressive. He would take the Dark Mark soon, if the stories were true. Hermione’s stomach clenched at the thought of their schoolmate behind a Death Eater’s mask. The prospect was horrifying.

When class was finally dismissed, Malfoy was one of the first to leave. Professor McGonagall watched him go with saddened eyes. “Mr Potter, next time you desire a cup of tea, try using one of the school teacups. I fear the fancy one you conjured before class might be a bit too bitter for your taste.”

Harry looked at her searchingly, and nodded his head.

“Oh, and Mr Potter,” she called again as he turned to leave, “20 points to Gryffindor for an excellent example of human transfiguration. It was fortunate you didn’t botch it or I might have been forced to give you a detention instead. I particularly liked that exquisite blue floral pattern.”

Hermione and Harry tried not to grin as they ran to catch up with the others. Ron looked at them in confusion, and hurried after them for an explanation.

“…ferret-faced, half-arsed, death-eater scum BASTARD…” Harry was cursing in time with his footsteps as they walked to their next class.

Hermione explained the ‘tea-cup incident’ to Ron and the boys, who howled with laughter.

“A blue flower pattern? Like the one mum uses? Ah, mate, he’ll never live that one down!” Ron chortled to Harry. “Hey, next time, make him a teapot with a picture of a ferret on it,” he suggested enthusiastically. “We could send him up to old Trelawney’s class for when they read the tea leaves. At least he’d be useful for a change.”

Seamus nudged Ron in the ribs. “Even better if you let Longbottom pour the tea. He might drop ‘im and put us all out of our misery!”

“Hey!” complained Neville, but he was also grinning at the story.

Harry was still fuming. “I hate him. He’s a useless, scheming little snot and I’d like to—“

“Hey, Harry,” grinned Dean, “you sound just like my sister does when she’s interested in a bloke. The amount of time you spend going off about Malfoy, anyone’d think you were in luuuurve.”

The boys fell over themselves laughing at Dean’s joke. Harry’s face went a sickly shade of pale.

“Aw, look fellas, Harry’s dropped his sense of humour.” Dean poked a resisting Harry in the ribs. “Don’t worry, Harry, if we find it, we’ll send it back to you by owl post!”

The boys continued to laugh and trade jokes as they moved off to their next class, oblivious to Harry’s discomfort.

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

Hermione was relieved when lunch time arrived. The enormity of what she had agreed to do was catching up with her, not to mention the escalating problem with Malfoy. It wasn’t his insults that worried her. It was the unconcealed malice behind them. Shuddering, she made her way down the stairs. That was all she needed on top of dealing with Professor Snape.

She caught her breath. Professor Snape.

No one knew about her decision and needed time to collect her thoughts. She hadn’t even told Professor Dumbledore yet, although it was likely that he had already found out. Not much got past him. She felt slightly numb, as though the idea had completely sunk in yet.

In the Great Hall she took a seat by herself at the Gryffindor table. She had made up an excuse to get away from Harry and Ron. They had already bailed her up over her actions at the meeting last night.

Harry was baffled. “How could you, Hermione?”

“She’s mental, mate,” Ron had insisted, “I wouldn’t sleep with Snape for all the Galleons in Gringotts.”

Well, no-one is asking you to, Ronald, Hermione thought bitterly. They are asking ME to. Of course, it was my own stupid fault for volunteering in the first place.

She hadn’t told them she had come back to Hogwarts with Snape afterwards. For now, they could think she’d had a close shave and leave it at that. There was enough for her to think about without having to justify it to them as well.

She pulled out the Potions essay that had been set at the end of last term. It wasn’t due until next week, but she had finished it just the same and re-read it while she waited for lunch. Immersed in her reading, she did not register the dark presence standing silently at her side.

“Miss Granger.”

The deep voice of Professor Snape jerked her from her reverie. Looking up with a start, she found him looking down his nose at her, his haughty expression in place as usual.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” her smile was slightly forced. “How are you today?”

This was the first time she had seen him since their discussion. She was determined to make an attempt to be friendly.

Oh Gods. Did I really agree to marry this man? He’ll eat me alive.

Severus’ black eyes were unreadable. He did not respond to her greeting.

“My office, this evening after dinner…please”. The last word was gritted out as an afterthought. It was the first time she had ever heard him use that particular magic word. It must be his attempt at being friendly too.

With a weak smile and a nod, she agreed to his request, and was not surprised when he turned and swept off without another word. She really was going to have to teach him some better social skills. The absurdity of the thought made her want to laugh.

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

At 8 o’clock, Hermione rapped sharply on the old wooden door. It creaked in protest as she reluctantly pushed her way inside.

Professor Snape was marking essays at his desk. His eyes flicked over her and, with a sigh, he pushed the work aside. He was distracted, failing to make his normal rude comment about ‘waiting to be invited in’.

Hermione only moved to sit in the chair opposite his desk when he impatiently gestured her towards it. Glittering black eyes watched her carefully. as though she might bite him if given the opportunity.

His voice was harsh when he spoke. “This solution is not of my choosing. You will have to forgive me for finding the task ahead distasteful.”

Her heart started pounding. She knew he was unhappy; however she hadn’t expected him to say so to her face. Silently berated herself, she fought for composure. It’s not like him to go down on one knee in gratitude, but he could have been more civil about it. This was turning out to be a sacrifice for both of them…much more than either of them realised. She would have to learn to be thicker skinned if she was going to come through this intact.

“Professor, this is not exactly the way I had envisioned my first time either.” Quiet dignity held her voice steady. “I did not create this problem, but it seems that there are no other alternatives…how ever much we both may wish for them.”

“Your first time?” It appeared he hadn’t considered that there was more than one virgin in the equation. “You’re a…?”

Hermione nodded miserably.

He closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, his face was a cold mask. “Never fear, Miss Granger, I feel certain your noble little sacrifice will not go unnoticed.” The bitterness that tinged his voice held a hint of self-loathing.

Putting the stab of hurt aside, her logical brain recognised something hidden in what he was saying. It occurred to her that perhaps he hated himself more than anyone else possibly could. She felt herself soften towards the unlovely man.

“Sir, if I was here for glory I’d throw myself as a human shield in front of Harry when the time came. I’m certain the Order of Merlin medal would look lovely on my coffin. Believe it or not, I just want to help you…and the Order.”

He searched her face, frowning.

“Miss Granger, I have informed the Headmaster of our…agreement.”

She nodded at his stilted declaration. At least that was one task she didn’t have to do. Then she was struck by a sudden thought.

“Will this affect my schooling, sir? Is it even permissible for a teacher to marry a student?” Perhaps some technicality would get her off the hook.

Professor Snape shook his head, and her heart sank. “The Headmaster is making arrangements. Your schoolwork will not be affected, and, in this case, the rules are being relaxed at the Headmaster’s discretion owing to the nature of the times in which we find ourselves. I believe his words were ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’.”

Hermione nodded in resignation. Desperate indeed.

“We also spoke at some length about what will be required and he has suggested that you and I need to spend some –er—personal time together in order to make this act believable.” His lack of enthusiasm was more than apparent.

She had expected this. Hermione waited for him to continue, not really knowing what to say.

“As you are aware, the Dark Lord is a skilled Legilimens. Whilst I can control what information he lifts from my mind to some degree, I cannot lie to him directly, therefore I must have something real to reveal. I will string the images together in such a way as to create the impression that they are not recent, thus removing any suspicion of this being pre-meditated.”

“What kind of memories will you need, Professor?” Hermione asked politely, hoping that they didn’t involve anything too intimate immediately.

“The Headmaster has indicated that I must present a believable case regarding the existence of a –relationship between us that will remove me from suspicion with regards to the Prophecy, without revealing that I knew anything about it’s existence. Proving that this relationship has been developing over a period of time is just as important as discrediting the contents of the prophecy itself.”

Hermione had to resist the urge to ask several questions which came immediately to mind. The professor looked as though the smallest interruption would be dealt with harshly so she bit her tongue.

“Therefore,” he continued, “the Headmaster indicated that we should endeavour to act in accordance with the traditions normally ascribed to courting couples.” The last words were spat out.

Hermione tried not to grin at the stiff formal tone he used. He definitely wasn’t used to this. It made him seem more human.

“Which particular traditions are you referring to, Professor?” she asked, biting her lower lip to control her smile.

Severus’ expression darkened fractionally. “Actually, Miss Granger, I was hoping that you would be able to tell me.” The admission was almost forced out of him.

Hermione couldn’t control the smile that finally broke over her face, in spite of her reluctant fiancé’s answering scowl.

“Very well, Professor,” she said slowly. “Perhaps the first thing we should do is call each other by our given names.”

Hermione could almost hear him grinding his teeth before he steeled himself and nodded his acquiescence.

“Thank you – Severus.” For some reason, his name felt good in her mouth.

“Obviously, you will continue to address me more formally in class, and in public,” he gritted.

“Obviously,” she repeated. “Now, as for those ‘traditions’ you mentioned. Would you like me to make you a list?” She was sounding much braver than she actually felt.

He shook his head abruptly. “I do not want a list, nor do I want a labeled diagram,” he waved an impatient hand at her. “Just tell me what you believe is entailed.”

“Of course, Severus.” He winced again at her use of his name. “There are all the normal trimmings of conventional courtship: flowers, chocolates, romantic dinners, long walks, love letters, spontaneous gifts, mutual endearments—“

She watched the blood drain from his already pale face as she counted the list off on her fingers. By the time she got to ‘mutual endearments’ he was looking at her in dismay.

And so she took pity on him. Even though he didn’t really deserve it. “But we don’t have to do those things.”

The instant relief on his face was almost comical. “Thank Merlin! I think I’d prefer to risk it with Lucius.”

“True courtship,’ she continued, ignoring his sarcasm, “is about getting to know the person you are planning to marry. It’s about finding things that you both like and then sharing them. Those sorts of memories will be infinitely more believable than images of you on bended knee offering me roses.” Not that Voldemort would even believe it if he saw it.

He sneered at the picture she had painted of him. “Don’t hold your breath for that one, Miss Granger. However the alternative sounds –acceptable.” From his bored tone of voice, Severus clearly didn’t believe they would find they had anything in common.

“Excellent! Well then, why don’t we discuss what we might have in common and go from there?”

Severus sighed and indicated for her to begin.

Getting information out of him was like catching fairies. Resistant and elusive, Severus guarded his privacy ferociously and was unwilling to ‘share’ anything about himself. After a frustrating half hour, Hermione stopped trying to lead him in conversation.

“Professor—, Severus ,” she reproached, “nobody is going to believe we are anything but abject strangers unless you are prepared to talk to me!”

He slumped mutinously at his desk. “I am talking to you.” He steadfastly refused to use her first name, despite her insistence, preferring to refrain from using any name at all.

Hermione sighed. It was getting late and she still had homework to complete. For a moment the enormity of the task overwhelmed her.

“This is getting us nowhere,” she declared. “Perhaps you know of an alternative which might be more convincing?”

“Aside from an image of you naked in my bed, no.” His words had been intended to discomfit her, but the graphic image it conjured in his mind, and the fact he had said it to a student, made him blush faintly instead - which completely ruined the effect.

There was an awkward silence.

Hermione was speechless, and more than a little embarrassed. She had to consciously restrain herself from grinding her teeth. He is prickler than a Knarl , she thought, and I’m only trying to help . Her temper rose and that, combined with the disturbing image of being ‘naked in his bed’, had her once again giving in to impulse. Later she would put her actions down to being so tired that she didn’t really think about what she was doing.

She stood abruptly and marched around the desk to where he sat amongst his papers and quills. He looked up at her, his cool mask firmly in place.

“Well, if that is all you want to show him, perhaps you can start with THIS!”

Before he could react, she took his face in her two hands and planted her lips on his. Hermione was distantly aware of being grateful to Victor Krum for the little bit of kissing experience she had gained back in Fourth Year, otherwise neither of them would have known what they were doing.

He gasped and she deepened the kiss, allowing her tongue to dart into the warm recess of his mouth. Surprising herself as much as she surprised him, Hermione had never considered herself to be capable of sexual aggression before. The air between them sparked with energy and when she pulled away, she struggled to regain her breath. That made her even angrier and with a toss of her head, she left the room.

She didn’t see him staring after her as she made her way out of the dungeons.

What am I doing? She thought as she marched back up towards Gryffindor Tower. What the hell am I doing?!? I just kissed Professor Snape…Hell, I put my tongue in his mouth…to prove a point!!! Gods! I have to learn to control my temper!