The Potions Master's Storeroom
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Harry Potter AU/AR › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
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Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter AU/AR › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,913
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter! Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. This is fanfiction, and as such, I make no money off of this.
In Which the Charms Mistress Contemplates Virility
A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys! I have been on a reading binge! If you haven't checked out the nominations over on LJ for the SSHG awards, there are some excellent fics just begging to be read and voted on! Also, the holidays slowed me up a bit, too. I solemnly swear the next chapter will come up much faster. :)
I own nothing. This is a piece of fanfiction, and everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter Five
Diagon Alley was bustling with witches and wizards doing their Christmas shopping. I linked my arm through Severus’s, ignoring his sardonic glance, and enjoyed the excursion. There were boughs of holly and evergreens over most of the shop doors, and twinkling fairy lights were wrapped around the old-fashioned gas lamps that lined the street.
“Oh, Severus! Look how lovely the decorations are. I adore Christmas.” I hugged his arm.
“I hate it,” he grumbled. His eyes widened, and he skittishly skirted a lamp post wrapped in lights and tinsel. “Stupid fairy lights.”
“How on earth can you hate fairy lights? They’re so beautiful and festive.”
“First of all, Hermione, if something is ‘festive’ I probably will hate it. I’m not a Cookies-for-Santa sort of man. Secondly, every idiot knows that the government uses fairy lights to spy on the populace.” He lowered his voice. “They’re the M.o.M’s Christmastime eyes and ears.”
I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. “What on earth are they spying for? To see how many pairs of wool socks Great Aunt Odelia purchases for little Timmy?”
He pressed his lips together, but I ignored his displeasure and continued.
“No, wait. It’s because the Department of Mysteries is trying to solve the age-old question of why people persist in making and giving fruit cakes when nobody likes them, right?” I was laughing so hard, tears were forming in my eyes. “It’s all for science, Severus!”
His face was tight, his jaw jutted with irritation. “Laugh all you like, Hermione. I’ve heard it…” His eyes flitted to the fairy light-wrapped poll, and he took my arm, leading me farther away. Severus’s lips tickled my ear when he whispered, “It’s true that I’m a suspicious conspiracy theorist where the Ministry is concerned. That doesn’t mean they aren’t watching our every move. I’ve heard it on good authority that they’ve placed Blood spells on their Christmas decorations in order to help them identify witches and wizards that have magical creatures in their ancestry. If Ms. Delacour with her Veela blood were to walk down this street, they’d sniff her out and tag her before she got within twenty feet of a storefront.”
My attention wandered to his lips and I tried to estimate how many millimeters they were from my earlobe. He said something about tagging Ms. Delacour, and although I’d have felt just fine if someone had punched that bint after I discovered she’d slept with Ron on our six month anniversary, I was having trouble concentrating on the words coming out of his mouth. Gods, his breath was hot.
“Tell me more,” I whispered back, nestling a bit closer so that our chests were pressed together.
“I think they are doing it so that if they ever need a scapegoat, they can point fingers.” I pressed my lips to the spot on his neck that rumbled when he spoke. It tingled a bit and I smiled. “Most people are suspicious of those with mixed-heritage, and…” He caught his breath when my tongue touched that same, delicious spot on his neck. “Hermione,” he said, his voice suddenly tentative and nervous. “We are in public. It’s not seemly.”
“Am I not allowed to show affection in front of others?” I looked up into his face which was nervous and torn and gentle.
“I’d really rather not.” Darting a keen-eyed glance around us, he stroked his gloved fingers down my cheek once and then stepped away. “I’m a private man.” Severus cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “After years of protecting myself from the Dark Lord, I find that I am loathe to show that you might have significance to me beyond being my colleague. It makes me feel… exposed.”
I smiled at the way he carefully side-stepped the idea that I was important to him.
“All right then.” I smiled at Severus to reassure him that I wasn’t upset. “Flourish & Blotts is just there. Shall we?”
At his nod, we entered the store, the bells strung from the frame jingling merrily. He placed his hand on the small of my back and ushered me away from the doorway.
“So, how long before I meet you back here?” he asked.
I bit my lip, excited. I’d never been to the book store with someone who was also a reader. Ron and Harry would dog my footsteps, whining like possessed hounds that needed to go out to potty until I’d finally lose my patience and stomp out. Twenty minutes tops. I decided to push my luck with the Potions master. “An hour?” I said, trying not to sound like I was asking permission.
Severus’s eyebrows sank low, and he tucked his hands into his sleeves across his chest. Grumbling, he said, “It’s hardly worth having made the trip if we’re just going to dash in and dash out.”
I stared in consternation at his face, his mouth puckered as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “You want to stay longer?” A smile grew across my face. “You do! Oh, that’s just wonderful, Severus. How about you come find me when you’re done? Take as long as you like.”
His brow cleared, and while he was still formulating a response, I kissed the tips of my fingers and pressed them to his lips. Turning on my heel, I skipped away from him towards the Charms section.
Three hours passed before I’d noticed, surrounded as I was with Charms texts and filled with schoolgirlish glee. My shoulders ached, and I shrugged them stiffly as I stood up to check on Severus. It felt as if every joint in my body cracked, and putting my arms over my head, I stretched like a cat. Merlin, it felt good. There’s no body ache like an “I’ve been hunched over a book too long” ache.
What a sad little woman I am.
I can’t believe I thought that. Of course there’re better body aches than ones that are reading-induced; one in particular that I hoped to be experiencing soon at Severus’s hands. Smirking, I wandered over to the Potions section.
It was mysteriously devoid of snarky, greasy-haired men.
He was likewise missing from the Transfiguration section, the Arithmancy section, and every other remotely academic area. I finally found him surrounded by violent pink and purple pastel book covers that featured swooning, busty witches caught in the arms of virile-looking wizards. What made a wizard look particularly virile? Examining the book in Severus’s hand (mysteriously titled “The Curse of the Moist Cauldron”), I decided it had nothing to do with a wizard’s appearance, and everything to do with a witch who fainted at the idea of his manly love wand.
“Huh,” Severus snorted. “That seems physically impossible. I doubt her legs would bend that way should I try it.”
I smirked at that, but my eyes softened when I saw the books stacked carefully on a table near his hip.
Wooing: The Ins and Outs of Courting
Giving your Witch What She Needs
Being a Lover: An Emotional Tapestry
Severus was a brilliant, methodical man, and he was doing what he did best: researching. I pulled back, fearing he would be embarrassed if he knew I was watching him, and returned to the Charms section to wait for him to fetch me in his own time.
When we left the store several hours later, Severus offered me the crook of his arm. His face was uncertain, and I remembered his discomfort with public affection. Smiling gently, I slid my arm through his.
We had barely taken ten steps outside when I saw him: Ronald Weasley, smug, whey-faced ginger menace, now with Paunch(™)! Oh, Christ. He saw me. Severus must have felt me stiffen, but when he saw his former student, he did nothing but smile. Well, it was less of a friendly gesture, and more of a baboon’s menacing baring of teeth, but Ronald was enough of an idiot that he couldn’t tell, I’m sure.
“Herms!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide as if he meant to grab me in a bear hug. Breast-crushing meant ‘hello’ in Weasleyese, I supposed.
I held my hand up to keep him at arms length, and responded with a very prim, “Hello, Ronald.”
“Give us a hug, then.” His eyes glittered strangely as they flicked between me and the Professor. After having known the git for years, I could practically see the jealousy and suspicion dancing a jig through his monkey brain.
“No thanks.” I rubbed my cheek slightly on Severus’s bicep, above where my hand rested on the crook of his elbow. I glanced up at his face and saw that the edges of his mouth were turned up at my blatant show of possession.
“Mr. Weasley!” he boomed with false camaraderie. “And when is the blessed event?” Severus gestured toward Ron’s belly.
“Very funny, Snape,” he growled before turning to face me. “Hermione, luv, it’s been ages. Where have you been?”
“The same place I’ve been for the last three years – Hogwarts. Why are you suddenly curious?” I crossed my arms over my breasts. “Are you suffering from a paucity of loose-knickered women? After all, it’s been nine years since Harry killed Voldemort and you started coasting off of his fame. Even the most idiotic of women have got to be waking up to the fact that you sell jock straps for a living.”
Severus was looking at me with something like pride while Ron sputtered.
“Herms, don’t be like that. We were friends before… any of the rest of it happened. Is it so wrong for me to want to catch up? We’ve been through a lot together.”
“It’s true. We have.” I looked at his hangdog expression. “However, I am quite sure I don’t know this person you’ve become. If you truly wish to become reacquainted, I will no longer refuse your owls.” At this I stepped close and fiercely poked him in the chest. “But let me warn you right now, Ronald Weasely. Your first letter had better contain a very thorough apology. Now if you’ll excuse me, Severus and I have pressing business far away from you and your terrible garlic breath.”
We left him sputtering behind us as we walked away, and Severus curled his gloved hand over mine.
“I know that you do not care what Mr. Weasley thinks. However, you are aware that he is still close with Mr. Potter and will doubtless inform him that you were seen with me?”
I shrugged and said nothing.
“And that he will most likely disapprove of any… friendship between us?”
“Oh, so what. I’m a big girl. Besides, I’m not sure when you saw Harry last, but he’s very different now. Married life has really softened him, and as long as I was happy, he’d manage just fine.” I looked up and saw that he was staring fixedly ahead. “How about you? You know Minerva will most likely disapprove. And Albus. Will that bother you?”
“Minerva is a decent human being, but she’s also a dried-up old stick. And Albus’s only concern right now is that his lemon drop supplier has gone belly up.” He still wasn’t looking at me, but his hand tightened on mine. “Hermione…”
“Yes?”
“Hermione, I don’t want you to react when I tell you something, all right?”
I caught my breath. “All right, Severus.”
“Someone is following us.” He cursed quietly. “I knew it was a bad idea to talk around the fairy lights!”
A/N: Like it, love it, hate it, review it!
As a side note, I know that in some Christmas story somewhere, there's an offhand note about how Severus sulks when Hermione decorates a tree with fairy lights because he worries about them staring at him. I thought it was Subversa's "Send Not to Know" (which if you haven't read, it's my favorite Christmas fic!) and wrote her this big long note about it. Yeah, wow. Not her fic. She was super nice about it, although she didn't know where it came from either. Now I'm not sure if I dreamed this up whole cloth or if it's out there in someone's piece that I'm not remembering. It was not intentional or direct yoinkage, but if someone knows which story that is, I'd like to include it in an author's note somewhere. Let me know if you have any idea!
I own nothing. This is a piece of fanfiction, and everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter Five
Diagon Alley was bustling with witches and wizards doing their Christmas shopping. I linked my arm through Severus’s, ignoring his sardonic glance, and enjoyed the excursion. There were boughs of holly and evergreens over most of the shop doors, and twinkling fairy lights were wrapped around the old-fashioned gas lamps that lined the street.
“Oh, Severus! Look how lovely the decorations are. I adore Christmas.” I hugged his arm.
“I hate it,” he grumbled. His eyes widened, and he skittishly skirted a lamp post wrapped in lights and tinsel. “Stupid fairy lights.”
“How on earth can you hate fairy lights? They’re so beautiful and festive.”
“First of all, Hermione, if something is ‘festive’ I probably will hate it. I’m not a Cookies-for-Santa sort of man. Secondly, every idiot knows that the government uses fairy lights to spy on the populace.” He lowered his voice. “They’re the M.o.M’s Christmastime eyes and ears.”
I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. “What on earth are they spying for? To see how many pairs of wool socks Great Aunt Odelia purchases for little Timmy?”
He pressed his lips together, but I ignored his displeasure and continued.
“No, wait. It’s because the Department of Mysteries is trying to solve the age-old question of why people persist in making and giving fruit cakes when nobody likes them, right?” I was laughing so hard, tears were forming in my eyes. “It’s all for science, Severus!”
His face was tight, his jaw jutted with irritation. “Laugh all you like, Hermione. I’ve heard it…” His eyes flitted to the fairy light-wrapped poll, and he took my arm, leading me farther away. Severus’s lips tickled my ear when he whispered, “It’s true that I’m a suspicious conspiracy theorist where the Ministry is concerned. That doesn’t mean they aren’t watching our every move. I’ve heard it on good authority that they’ve placed Blood spells on their Christmas decorations in order to help them identify witches and wizards that have magical creatures in their ancestry. If Ms. Delacour with her Veela blood were to walk down this street, they’d sniff her out and tag her before she got within twenty feet of a storefront.”
My attention wandered to his lips and I tried to estimate how many millimeters they were from my earlobe. He said something about tagging Ms. Delacour, and although I’d have felt just fine if someone had punched that bint after I discovered she’d slept with Ron on our six month anniversary, I was having trouble concentrating on the words coming out of his mouth. Gods, his breath was hot.
“Tell me more,” I whispered back, nestling a bit closer so that our chests were pressed together.
“I think they are doing it so that if they ever need a scapegoat, they can point fingers.” I pressed my lips to the spot on his neck that rumbled when he spoke. It tingled a bit and I smiled. “Most people are suspicious of those with mixed-heritage, and…” He caught his breath when my tongue touched that same, delicious spot on his neck. “Hermione,” he said, his voice suddenly tentative and nervous. “We are in public. It’s not seemly.”
“Am I not allowed to show affection in front of others?” I looked up into his face which was nervous and torn and gentle.
“I’d really rather not.” Darting a keen-eyed glance around us, he stroked his gloved fingers down my cheek once and then stepped away. “I’m a private man.” Severus cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “After years of protecting myself from the Dark Lord, I find that I am loathe to show that you might have significance to me beyond being my colleague. It makes me feel… exposed.”
I smiled at the way he carefully side-stepped the idea that I was important to him.
“All right then.” I smiled at Severus to reassure him that I wasn’t upset. “Flourish & Blotts is just there. Shall we?”
At his nod, we entered the store, the bells strung from the frame jingling merrily. He placed his hand on the small of my back and ushered me away from the doorway.
“So, how long before I meet you back here?” he asked.
I bit my lip, excited. I’d never been to the book store with someone who was also a reader. Ron and Harry would dog my footsteps, whining like possessed hounds that needed to go out to potty until I’d finally lose my patience and stomp out. Twenty minutes tops. I decided to push my luck with the Potions master. “An hour?” I said, trying not to sound like I was asking permission.
Severus’s eyebrows sank low, and he tucked his hands into his sleeves across his chest. Grumbling, he said, “It’s hardly worth having made the trip if we’re just going to dash in and dash out.”
I stared in consternation at his face, his mouth puckered as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “You want to stay longer?” A smile grew across my face. “You do! Oh, that’s just wonderful, Severus. How about you come find me when you’re done? Take as long as you like.”
His brow cleared, and while he was still formulating a response, I kissed the tips of my fingers and pressed them to his lips. Turning on my heel, I skipped away from him towards the Charms section.
Three hours passed before I’d noticed, surrounded as I was with Charms texts and filled with schoolgirlish glee. My shoulders ached, and I shrugged them stiffly as I stood up to check on Severus. It felt as if every joint in my body cracked, and putting my arms over my head, I stretched like a cat. Merlin, it felt good. There’s no body ache like an “I’ve been hunched over a book too long” ache.
What a sad little woman I am.
I can’t believe I thought that. Of course there’re better body aches than ones that are reading-induced; one in particular that I hoped to be experiencing soon at Severus’s hands. Smirking, I wandered over to the Potions section.
It was mysteriously devoid of snarky, greasy-haired men.
He was likewise missing from the Transfiguration section, the Arithmancy section, and every other remotely academic area. I finally found him surrounded by violent pink and purple pastel book covers that featured swooning, busty witches caught in the arms of virile-looking wizards. What made a wizard look particularly virile? Examining the book in Severus’s hand (mysteriously titled “The Curse of the Moist Cauldron”), I decided it had nothing to do with a wizard’s appearance, and everything to do with a witch who fainted at the idea of his manly love wand.
“Huh,” Severus snorted. “That seems physically impossible. I doubt her legs would bend that way should I try it.”
I smirked at that, but my eyes softened when I saw the books stacked carefully on a table near his hip.
Wooing: The Ins and Outs of Courting
Giving your Witch What She Needs
Being a Lover: An Emotional Tapestry
Severus was a brilliant, methodical man, and he was doing what he did best: researching. I pulled back, fearing he would be embarrassed if he knew I was watching him, and returned to the Charms section to wait for him to fetch me in his own time.
When we left the store several hours later, Severus offered me the crook of his arm. His face was uncertain, and I remembered his discomfort with public affection. Smiling gently, I slid my arm through his.
We had barely taken ten steps outside when I saw him: Ronald Weasley, smug, whey-faced ginger menace, now with Paunch(™)! Oh, Christ. He saw me. Severus must have felt me stiffen, but when he saw his former student, he did nothing but smile. Well, it was less of a friendly gesture, and more of a baboon’s menacing baring of teeth, but Ronald was enough of an idiot that he couldn’t tell, I’m sure.
“Herms!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide as if he meant to grab me in a bear hug. Breast-crushing meant ‘hello’ in Weasleyese, I supposed.
I held my hand up to keep him at arms length, and responded with a very prim, “Hello, Ronald.”
“Give us a hug, then.” His eyes glittered strangely as they flicked between me and the Professor. After having known the git for years, I could practically see the jealousy and suspicion dancing a jig through his monkey brain.
“No thanks.” I rubbed my cheek slightly on Severus’s bicep, above where my hand rested on the crook of his elbow. I glanced up at his face and saw that the edges of his mouth were turned up at my blatant show of possession.
“Mr. Weasley!” he boomed with false camaraderie. “And when is the blessed event?” Severus gestured toward Ron’s belly.
“Very funny, Snape,” he growled before turning to face me. “Hermione, luv, it’s been ages. Where have you been?”
“The same place I’ve been for the last three years – Hogwarts. Why are you suddenly curious?” I crossed my arms over my breasts. “Are you suffering from a paucity of loose-knickered women? After all, it’s been nine years since Harry killed Voldemort and you started coasting off of his fame. Even the most idiotic of women have got to be waking up to the fact that you sell jock straps for a living.”
Severus was looking at me with something like pride while Ron sputtered.
“Herms, don’t be like that. We were friends before… any of the rest of it happened. Is it so wrong for me to want to catch up? We’ve been through a lot together.”
“It’s true. We have.” I looked at his hangdog expression. “However, I am quite sure I don’t know this person you’ve become. If you truly wish to become reacquainted, I will no longer refuse your owls.” At this I stepped close and fiercely poked him in the chest. “But let me warn you right now, Ronald Weasely. Your first letter had better contain a very thorough apology. Now if you’ll excuse me, Severus and I have pressing business far away from you and your terrible garlic breath.”
We left him sputtering behind us as we walked away, and Severus curled his gloved hand over mine.
“I know that you do not care what Mr. Weasley thinks. However, you are aware that he is still close with Mr. Potter and will doubtless inform him that you were seen with me?”
I shrugged and said nothing.
“And that he will most likely disapprove of any… friendship between us?”
“Oh, so what. I’m a big girl. Besides, I’m not sure when you saw Harry last, but he’s very different now. Married life has really softened him, and as long as I was happy, he’d manage just fine.” I looked up and saw that he was staring fixedly ahead. “How about you? You know Minerva will most likely disapprove. And Albus. Will that bother you?”
“Minerva is a decent human being, but she’s also a dried-up old stick. And Albus’s only concern right now is that his lemon drop supplier has gone belly up.” He still wasn’t looking at me, but his hand tightened on mine. “Hermione…”
“Yes?”
“Hermione, I don’t want you to react when I tell you something, all right?”
I caught my breath. “All right, Severus.”
“Someone is following us.” He cursed quietly. “I knew it was a bad idea to talk around the fairy lights!”
A/N: Like it, love it, hate it, review it!
As a side note, I know that in some Christmas story somewhere, there's an offhand note about how Severus sulks when Hermione decorates a tree with fairy lights because he worries about them staring at him. I thought it was Subversa's "Send Not to Know" (which if you haven't read, it's my favorite Christmas fic!) and wrote her this big long note about it. Yeah, wow. Not her fic. She was super nice about it, although she didn't know where it came from either. Now I'm not sure if I dreamed this up whole cloth or if it's out there in someone's piece that I'm not remembering. It was not intentional or direct yoinkage, but if someone knows which story that is, I'd like to include it in an author's note somewhere. Let me know if you have any idea!