Above All Things

Above All Things
Chapter Six
by Nom de Plume



Hermione was still staring at the spot Snape had Disapparated from. She inhaled contentedly and shook her head. He had slept over at her flat! Was she still dreaming?

The head rush she got from shaking her head in disbelief, however, confirmed that she was in fact awake, and she shuffled across her apartment to the loo. She needed a hangover potion and she needed one now.

She pressed the switch on the wall of her bathroom and winced against the fluorescent lighting. Behind the mirrored cabinet on her wall, and peered up at the little phial stand on the rack that held three cascading tiers. She reached for a phial with a sea-green stopper on the top row. Blessed potions.

She downed the first one, puckering her lips a bit at the bitter aftertaste, but quickly sighed with relief once its magic started working through her body. Chewing on her lower lip in thought for a moment, she decided to also ingest the contents of a phial with a dark blue stopper. A potion whose contents filled the entire first row.

These draughts were a mild muscle relaxant and pain reliever she used for her, so-far, run of the mill tremors and wore off relatively quickly. They helped ease her stiff muscles either after an episode, or if she took one beforehand, lessened the after-effects as her muscles were already loosened and relaxed. The only reason she didn’t take these all day, every day now was because they made her quite sleepy.

The middle row on the rack was nearly filled by a potion with a deep red stopper. These were used in emergencies when the pain and seizing was more than she could comfortably handle. Two spaces were empty; although she did keep some extras in the lab should something happen while she was working. Better safe than sorry.

The top row held a combination of basic household potions, and experimental draughts her Healer had given her to help stop the spread of the toxin. They changed every other week as so far none of them had worked.

She rinsed out the now empty phials in her hand and set them aside, hoping that in taking the mild one now it might come in handy later as she still hadn’t had “the big one” yet. Honestly, she was surprised it hadn’t hit yet. She could have sworn that last night she had been in for a doozy.

She closed the cabinet door and lazily stared at her reflection. Her under eyes were puffy and dark. Her hair, dear God, was an abomination! She groaned. How could she have not checked in the mirror this morning?!

Well, her inner voice reminded her, you didn’t exactly have time, did you?

She flicked the switch off and wandered aimlessly around her apartment, mulling over the events of the morning. She paused and stood outside her bedroom, gazing at the doorway. The very doorway that seemed like only minutes ago Professor Snape had pinned her against in his effort to make her think they’d…had sex. She cleared her throat.

She’d been incredibly nervous and shocked at his actions at the time, but now that she could look back at it objectively that had been, well, pretty damn hot. She smirked and sauntered into her kitchen feeling a little sexy. True, he’d been teasing her, but she distinctly remembered how he had seemed quite fascinated with her lips at the time.

She turned on the tap at her sink and washed out the coffee pot, gazing wistfully at her half-eaten toast. Did he really made me breakfast? she wondered, grinning. She paused. He’d made her breakfast; toast, in fact. Which meant he had used a toaster. How in the world did he know how to use a Muggle toaster? She frowned as she pondered this new revelation and finished cleaning. How odd that man is.

Dishes washed, she decided she could clean no more, and she made her way to her homemade lab. This would be her first day of self-appointed work and she had a long way to go and no time to spare.

No time.

She paled. It seemed as if the awareness of her mortality came in waves. Sometimes she could go about her day, pretending that everything was normal, could almost forget about the terror looming overhead like a huge, beastly shadow. But other times the most insignificant thought, would hit her like a punch to the gut so that she would have to physically stop what she was doing just to take a breath again.

The calendar on the wall in the kitchen caught her eye and she glanced over at it. In perfect Hermione fashion, each month was full of dates and information marked within the tiny squares of days. Her near obsessive compulsion for scheduling commanded nothing less, after all.

The calendar was a reality check, and now almost a touchstone for Hermione. It was cataloguing the most important year of her life. The first months were filled with mundane scheduled meeting times, birthdays, political dinner dates and anniversaries; in other words, her normal life.

The subject matter further into the calendar, however, contained things like Healer appointments, treatment sessions and marked out wedding dates and plans. And one black-outlined two week block, two and a half months from the current day’s date was filled in with, “TBD?” Her life had consisted of timetables and she’d been a little unsure about whether or not to continue planning and making commitments after that point. She had laughed at her little joke at the time, but in hindsight that was probably a little more morbid than what was necessary.

She grabbed a Muggle ballpoint pen, (they really are much handier than trying to find a bottle of ink and quill around the house) and reached up to fill in a square two days from then: ‘Meet with Prof. Snape/toxin results.’ At least she could maintain control of this aspect of her life.

With a heavy sigh she walked across her living room to the lab and briefly considered changing out of the clothes she’d been wearing going on two days now. But really, what was the point? Nobody was there, and nobody was going to show up. She shrugged forlornly and turned to enter her little potions sanctuary — and froze.

She stared in confusion and after a moment, closed her mouth. This wasn’t her lab. Her lab was messy and cluttered, lamentably so even. Her lab didn’t have such high counters, and her cauldrons were scattered about carelessly. Her cupboard of ingredients was barely organised, and she couldn’t recall even having ingredient racks and utensil hooks on the walls. But this lab was the epitome of responsible efficiency and had all of those things that hers didn’t. Well, she’d meant for it to, and eventually it would have; she’d just had other things on her mind was all.

She swallowed thickly as she looked about in wonder. He’d done this.

She carefully stepped inside, as if almost afraid to upset the serenely sterile environment around her and sat down at her much tidier desk. He had said her lab was a disgrace, but to go to this extreme…she smiled and bit her lip.

She scooted her chair up closer to the desk and looked around, hoping he hadn’t gotten her paperwork too shuffled about. But everything seemed in order; just in actual order as opposed to the chaos she’d left it in previously. She shook her head; she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scold him for mucking about in her lab or thank him for his backhanded assistance.

The next thing Hermione noticed was the vaguely familiar handwriting in the margins of her research notes. She picked up the loose parchments before her and examined them. He had been working on her case last night. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise; he’d clearly been a very busy potions master while she’d slept.

As she read, she felt the pull of the academic challenge stir in her gut and she reached for a quill, (the same he’d used the night before) and started adding additional notes next to his hastily scrawled ones. Soon, she was Accio’ing several thick tomes packed away in multiple boxes on the floor of her living room, and had them spread out before her. As she worked, her heart felt a bit lighter. From what she could see, he’d made some very impressive deductions so far, and she started to feel the smallest glimmer of hope.

Professor Snape was considered brilliant. Perhaps, if anyone could help her, he could.

Confidence starting to return, she stayed working at her desk, examining his notes, adding to hers and creating a list of possible potions to try. He’d underlined two ingredients on one page and the brief note below them sounded promising. She pulled out her potions encyclopaedia, and after researched that particular combination of ingredients, felt excited. Perhaps I can start tinkering with some of these ideas now and get a head start, she thought.

And thus, she worked the afternoon away for several hours, barely pausing for rest. She didn’t break unless she was forced to when a tremor saw fit to disturb her rhythm. She was in ‘work mode’ which was fine by her, and short of physically being restrained, there wasn’t much that could distract Hermione Granger while in this state of mind. And even when she did have tremors, she took the smallest dose of potion possible to allow her to get over them but not enough to deter her from working.

To tell the truth, she’d felt great. It felt good to immerse herself in work again for something that truly had a purpose — her life. Which is why when the monster attack that had been threatening to occur finally did hit she’d been caught quite unawares.

She’d been working steadily for hours and felt she was close to making headway on the problem she’d most recently been tackling when the first stirring in her abdomen upset her. She paused briefly, and dipped her quill back into her inkwell before the spasm that rocked her caused her to jerk violently at her desk, sending the ink sailing across the room and papers to be strewn across the desk.

She cried out and clutched at her stomach. The pain was excruciating and the tears that automatically sprang forth nearly blinded her.

She needed her emergency potion.

She dropped to her knees, gasping and shaking violently, and tried to crawl away from the desk. She kept the tonic on the counter to the left of the desk.

Raising a shaky hand above her, she fumbled around the countertop for the phials she knew to be sitting in a rack. But they weren’t there. In her panic she faintly remembered that Snape had re-organized earlier.

Damnit.

She gasped and collapsed into the cabinets at her shoulder when she lost the means of supporting her own weight. She curled in on herself, moaning in agony. Her organs felt like they were writhing in magma while her muscles cramped fiercely in her torso. If only she could find her potion….

Summoning her last reserves of strength she pushed off the floor, and blinked away tears in an effort to see. Spittle gathered at her lips as she drew in gasp after harsh gasp through clenched jaws. Through her blurry vision she made out a shape that resembled her medical potions rack near a stack of cauldrons and reached for it. Her violently trembling fingers wrapped around a phial whose stopper she thought might be dark red and she blindly swallowed it, honestly not caring whether it was or not as long as it put a stop to the pain.

Another muscle contraction bent her double causing her to slam the glass phial against the solid surface of the counter. It shattered from the extreme force, jamming ragged shards of glass up into her palm and fingers.

She only dimly registered the warm feeling of additional pain blossoming in her hand before blacking out entirely.

-------------


Severus was storming up the grounds to the castle, in a right snit.

‘Stupid, idiotic, ridiculous, pea-brained….’ and so his verbal self-flagellation continued.

He wrenched open the great front doors, dramatically — and nearly ran smack into McGonagall on the other side.

“Severus! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she shrieked, her wrinkled hand clutching at her chest. This was the second time in as many days that he had startled her beyond measure.

He paused, momentarily nonplussed, then plastered his trademark frown firmly back into place and glared at her.

“Yes. And once again I’ve failed. Excuse me,” he clipped and sidestepped the older witch. She was the last person he needed to see at the moment.

She furrowed her brow curiously and turned to watch him stalk away. “Are you alright?” she called.

His response was to further hunch his shoulders and quicken his pace.

“Severus!”

He paused, mid-stride, gritting his teeth in annoyance. ‘Lousy providence….’

Minerva took in his rumpled attire — it was quite unlike her Potions Master to neglect his wardrobe so. His apparel looked familiar. She blinked in surprise and inhaled.

“Are those the clothes you wore yesterday?”

He sighed and stood up straight, still keeping his back to her, wishing the old harridan would leave him be.

She took a step towards him, her eyes widening. “But you’re not just getting back in are you?”

Though she couldn’t see his expression, he quirked a brow at her implication and continued quickly on his way to his dark, forbidding sanctuary. Had he not been supremely agitated already he might have smirked at her indignant shout of, “Severus Snape!” echoing off the stone corridors.

He threw down his wards and briskly entered the quiet peace of his rooms and looked around despondently.

He’d forgotten to ask about her symptoms. He’d forgotten to enquire about the entire list of questions he’d made up regarding her condition! And he should have collected her blood last, not first.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Unbelievable. That he, could be so distracted; it was unheard of!

Remembering the phials under stasis in his pocket, he quickly shrugged out of his summer cloak, depositing it haphazardly over the worn leather club chair flanking a dark mahogany stand in the living room, and entered his personal lab.

Immediately he set about preparing his work space to analyse Miss Granger’s blood. He may have forgotten to ask her those questions, but he certainly would not neglect this task.

He set one of the phials into a contraption on his countertop that he charmed to uniformly spin the blood around until its various components were separated, (a Muggle might recognize it as a type of blood centrifuge) and went about plucking various jars and bottles from his ingredients cabinet.

He pulled the rolled up parchment he’d written on last night from a different pocket, and began testing one phial against possible reactors until he was able to narrow down the toxin’s specific properties in her blood.

When he’d done all he could for the day, he set the last phial aside to wait for the toxin to separate. Hopefully by tomorrow it would be finished and he could start analysing the poison exactly.

A long, pale finger tapped restlessly against the worn, wooden table. He couldn’t get over his uncharacteristic mistake from earlier. He’d gotten….flustered almost. No, he shook his head, that couldn’t be it. Snapes do not get flustered.

He turned and left the lab unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt as he went — damn heat. Even in the dungeons there was no escape from it this time of year.

He needed a shower. Perhaps that could clear his head of the strange encounter at Miss Granger’s flat.

The slate tiled bathroom was only marginally cooler when he stepped inside. He flicked his wand and lukewarm water gushed out of the showerhead. Stepping under the blissful spray, he pressed his palms flat against the stone and sighed contentedly. The water sluicing down his back felt divine.

He cleared his mind and focused on the pleasant tingle from the powerful jets directed at his shoulder blades.

Miss Granger slipped up, his subconscious reminded him after only a moment’s peace. She didn’t correct you when you said ‘Turkey.’

He groaned and hung his head in annoyance. He’d purposely the said the wrong destination earlier to see if she stuck with her story. Minerva and Albus had said she was going to Greece. She hadn’t corrected him.

He worked a bar of soap in his hands into a nice foamy lather and rubbed along his slick body, thinking. His lips quirked as the image of Miss Granger’s favourable reaction from his morning prank played across his mind’s eye. Suddenly his hands were specifically south of the equator and he raised an eyebrow in alarm. That was unfortunate.

He quickly released himself and focused his attentions back on something less physically stimulating, like her blood sample. Merlin willing, he could start the antidote work tomorrow. He would need to question her further, but he would wait until the poison’s results were in so as to avoid having to contact her twice. It simply wouldn’t do to appear too overly eager.

She nearly threw herself at you before you left, you know.

Damn treacherous, one-track mind!

He angrily turned the taps to cold and gasped, huddling in on himself in reaction to the icy blast.

He was far too distracted. And without knowing how to proceed yet, there was nothing further he could do tonight. Which meant he had time on his hands. And since he was distracted, that meant he would need to occupy himself, lest this small distraction develop into an all out irritation.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel off the rack. Dry, he wrapped it around his slim waist and left the steamed bathroom for his bedroom.

Yes, a diversion for this distraction was what was called for now. A nice, uncomplicated, diversion. And it just so happened that at that moment one arrived in the form of an impatient owl tapping on a window across the room.

A rakish grin slowly spread across his lips as he read through the perfumed missive he held in his hands and he sighed with relief.

One pleasant diversion, coming up.

------------

“Uuuuggghhh.”

She licked her tingly lips as her body slowly regained consciousness. She was confused. As her eyesight gradually focused her mind attempted to understand why she was looking up at the ceiling from somewhere underneath her desk. The different perspective was very startling.

When she could feel her legs and arms again she struggled to sit up and winced from a combination of extreme soreness and lancing pain in her right hand. She looked down and gasped. There was blood everywhere! With this realisation, the pain that had been momentarily held back assailed her consciousness, and she made a face.

“Oww! What the hell?” she breathed, confused as to why her hand was bleeding. It was also throbbing, and upon quick inspection she noted that there were shards of glass poking out of it. She looked about for her wand; desperate to have the foreign objects out, and spied it along the base of the cabinets to her left.

She hastily removed the glass and sang a healing spell to mend her broken skin. A flash of red caught her eye and she turned her head. Bloody smears along the cabinet where her injured hand had grazed as she fell streaked across the surface and she felt slightly ill at the sight of it. She realised she must have crushed the phial before passing out.

Twisting around, she cradled her hand against her chest, and Evanescoed the mess away with her wand held in her left hand. She would need some Dittany—

“Hermione?!” a voice called from her living room, impatiently. “I know you’re here and Crookshanks is going mad! Let me in!”

Ginny? Hermione slowly rose up on knees, grimacing, and carefully got to her feet. She braced her good hand against the desk for support, blinking against a sudden head rush from the movement.

“Hey, Ginny!” she tried to call lightly. “I’m sorry, I was working and didn’t hear you,” she lied. Where did she keep her Dittany again? Crookshanks mewed loudly at her feet.

“Well, I’ve been calling for hours,” the girl shot back facetiously, relief evident in her tone. “Now take down your bloody wards and let me in.”

Hermione finally spotted the little brown glass bottle near the medical rack and hastily applied a few drops over the angry, red wound marks on her hand. She sighed with relief as the rest of the pain melted away and the marks faded to a light pink. She ran her fingers through her nest of mangled hair and took a breath.

“I’m sorry, Gin,” she said sheepishly and carefully stepped out into the now fading light of the living room. She waved her wand at the fireplace and Ginny Weasley stepped out, crossing her arms and glaring.

She took in her friend’s appearance and immediately forgot her irritation, however, and stepped towards Hermione in alarm.

“Sweet Merlin in lace, Hermione, what happened to you?” Ginny glanced at her friend’s rumpled clothing, the extremely pale skin, the wilder-than-normal hair, and the fact that Hermione was clearly favouring her wand arm. “Are you alright?”

“Potions accident,” Hermione mumbled. “So, what’s up?”

Ginny stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed. She decided not to push her, however, because she had a reason for showing up and she didn’t want to ruin her chances at success. And it was never any use trying to get anything out of her lately anyhow.

“Well, I’m glad I caught you. You’re leaving this weekend, right?”

Hermione frowned for a moment then caught on. “Oh, yes. Why do you ask?”

Ginny smiled and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Good! What are you doing tonight?” she asked enthusiastically.

“Umm,” Hermione searched the room around her, hoping an answer would pop out of her minimal amount of furniture. Not finding one in the sofa, she shrugged and gave in. “Nothing, really. Maybe some packing—”

“Good! Because we’re going out!” the redhead cheered excitedly.

“What? We are?”

“Yes! You’re single now, and leaving me for who knows how long and I am taking you out one more time before you head off to explore the Continent.”

Hermione unconsciously began stepping backwards toward the lab.

Ginny frowned, following her, and looked Hermione up and down. “But first, and no offence, you need a shower.” She lunged forward and grabbed Hermione’s uninjured hand, startling her. “Come on, then.”

----------------

Severus flicked the top button of his dark grey Oxford open, and tucked the strand of black hair that had escaped it’s confine behind his ear. If his mirror could talk it still probably wouldn’t say anything because it would have been struck speechless. He smirked at his appearance and nodded once. He knew he looked good.

He grabbed a small black leather pouch on his dressing table, shrunk it, and stuck it into a pocket at his hip, and turned to exit his quarters. He had an engagement with the delectable Vanessa Lockwood this evening. And while he knew he could probably wear a Muggle parka and rabbit fur trousers, Vanessa would still paw at him like a ravenous hyena. No, he would be in public tonight at some swishy new restaurant that she apparently ‘just had to attend’, and it never hurt to look one’s best when one was constantly on the prowl for any potential new interests.

He reset his wards and quickly strode down the dark stone corridor of the dungeons and hurriedly crossed the open expanse of the Great Hall. As he continued his way down the path to the gateway his mind wandered to a time, later on in the evening, when he would be in Vanessa’s bedroom. He found himself hoping that they wouldn’t make it all the way through dinner again tonight. Snape stepped through the gates and prepared to Disapparate and wondered if she still had that silk scarf that had come in so handy the last time he was with her….

----------------


“Ginny, it’s lovely, but I’m just not feeling red,” Hermione whined and sat down dejectedly on her unmade bed, feeling ridiculous. She was barely recovered from earlier and she was supposed to be in work mode; not play mode.

Ginny arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Nonsense, you’re a dish in red. And you’re going to wear it.” She leaned forward and brushed a curl away from her friend’s eye and smiled. “You’ll have to beat them off you with a stick.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. How did she get talked into this? She should be working in the lab! She really felt like she was starting to get somewhere—

“Open.”

Hermione started. “Excuse me?”
“Your lips,” Ginny fussed and grabbed Hermione’s chin to steady her. She traced a tube of scandalously red lipstick over her lips and presented a tissue. “Blot.”

Hermione obeyed but frowned her disapproval.

“Now. We’re set. We’re stunning. And if I weren’t so madly in love with Harry, I’d say we were going to score tonight. But, I am in love with him. So you are going to score instead,” she grinned.

Ginny grabbed a black pashmina from Hermione’s wardrobe and tossed it over to her, before smoothing her own knock-out dress across her hips.

“Don’t worry,” she said and pulled her friend to her feet. “I’ll make sure you’re set up with a nice bloke before the night is over with. Promise,” she winked.

Hermione pouted, gazing forlornly at her new potions lab when they passed by, as Ginny pull her through the apartment. “But I don’t want to be set up with a bloke tonight.” Now, last night….

Ginny chuckled and gently shoved Hermione out the front door.

-------------

“Severus!” Vanessa squealed and twined herself seductively around him when he arrived. She placed a kiss on his cheek, and delicately wiped the resulting lipstick mark away with her thumb. “I’m sorry,” she blushed, “but you know how enthusiastic I get around you.”

He arched an eyebrow and offered his arm to her, purposefully flaunting the fact that she was with him tonight to all the would-be suitors staring after the witch longingly.

“I know exactly how enthusiastic you can be. Let us hope you don’t waste your energy too soon,” he whispered seductively.

The witch giggled beside him and proudly allowed him to escort her to the entrance of Dashwood’s — Diagon Alley’s newest culinary hotspot. Everyone who was anyone was in attendance for the Grand Opening that night, and she would have considered it a grievous sin had she not been present.

There was only one wizard Vanessa Lockwood could possibly think of to be in attendance with at such a posh affair; and currently he was ushering her inside. How she revelled in the jealous stares of other, lesser witches. True, he was prickly at times, but his aura of dark mystery, his elegant demeanour and his otherworldly skill in the sack more than made up for his chilly detachment. Given time, she thought she could perhaps break him.

But for tonight he was hers; and she wanted everyone to know it.

--------------

The girls winced against the flashes of light as bulbs exploded brightly before them. Hermione rounded on Ginny.

“I thought you said this was a club in Hogsmeade!” she glared at her friend and waved away the wizard vying to take her picture for the Prophet.

Ginny smiled guiltily. “Well, when I said ‘club’ I meant restaurant. And when I said ‘Hogsmeade’ I meant a Grand Opening in Diagon Alley.”

Hermione turned to leave, but was stopped by the ever persistent hand of Ginevra Weasley.

“Come on. We’re already here, and you might as well have some fun!” she moaned, tugging the protesting Gryffindor killjoy to the front of the line.

“Miss Granger!” shouted one wizard.

“Miss Weasley! How ‘bout a nice photo for The Crier, eh?” asked a different wizard in cerulean blue robes, his quill poised in front of him.

Ginny ducked her head and groaned. Hermione followed suit.

They had nearly reached the entrance when a voice called from the crowd. “Hermione?”

The girls turned to see a very handsome young man, perhaps a few years older than they, had just rounded a corner and was smiling quite charmingly at them. His stylish brown hair complimented his tanned skin and beaming blue eyes. Ginny pursed her lips and did a quick once over before stepping, discreetly, away from Hermione so as to give this unknown newcomer plenty of room next to her.

“What are you doing here?” he chuckled and embraced her as camera bulbs popped in a frenzy of smoke and light behind them.

Hermione blushed and returned the embrace and allowed the young man to lead her inside, away from the thrice-damned press.

“Rhys, how good to see you,” she said, relieved to be inside the quiet darkness of…wherever they were.

“We,” Ginny conveniently offered, “were just out for a night of fun.”

Rhys looked momentarily surprised at Hermione, and then grinned. “Is that so?”

-------------

Severus calmly sipped at his wine and gazed dismally about the darkened space filled with babbling witches and wizards. How he loathed these sorts of occasions. It was truly amazing the kind of suffering a man would go through simply for the pleasure of a woman’s company. Well, their private company rather.

Admittedly, this place wasn’t as bad as some of the establishments he’d had to visit. It was tastefully decorated, pleasantly dark, and he supposed the wine wasn’t too terrible. There were several alcoves lining the walls with flame light flickering dramatically in sconces above tables and in niches. There also appeared to be some sort of musical arrangement set up near the gleaming wood and brass bar. He warily looked over to Vanessa. She would probably want him to dance. Fantastic.

“What do you think?” she purred across from him, reclaiming his attention.

“About?” he asked neutrally. He knew she loved trying to draw him out for answers.

She narrowed her eyes playfully and ran a satin clad pump against his leg under the table.

“Dashwood’s, of course,” she said and motioned around her.

Severus leaned back into the smooth leather back of the darkened booth they occupied and casually shrugged. “Other than the obsequious adulations of the general mob inhabiting its space, it’s fairly satisfactory.”

Vanessa blinked in confusion before settling her usual smile back into place. “Severus, does anything surpass your standards?” she sighed sweetly.

He snorted sarcastically and jabbed at an olive with a toothpick and raised it to his lips.

“Rarely,” he began but stopped, olive suspended mid-travel, as the flashes of light and sounds of bursting bulbs drew his attention to the front entrance.

He was just in the process of rolling his eyes at all of the fanfare when a very red dress and it’s particularly striking inhabitant made him pause. Before he could stop himself, his eyes swept up from bold red ankle strapped heels to a light curve of pale calves, over the sensuous arc of hip beneath a fiery swish of soft, red fabric, past a luscious swell of tantalising breast and finally to the jarring familiarity of Hermione Granger’s charming face.

His olive slipped off its pike.

Merlin’s naked arse. Miss Granger?


~~~



A/N: I know it sounded like I promised something steamy this chapter. Forgive me, but I felt it would be best to end this chapter where I did.

I had such fantastic feedback on this last chapter which made me positively giddy with glee! Thank you all! And, I now have a beta, so this is going to be polished up all nice and purdy like soon and then I will start getting chapters uploaded to OWL etc., in addition to here. (Which means I can reply to future comments. Yay!)

A/N II: July 26th, 2009- Hi there. Just a quick note as a couple people have been wondering, no, I have not abandoned this. :) I've been struggling a bit (RL + torn mind etc.) but this fic has definately not been forgotten. In fact, two more chapters are nearly complete. Once I iron out the kinks, they'll be up. Sorry for any undue anger/stress/agitation anyone has suffered at my procrastination. :( I mean, if anyone has suffered that is.