All's Fair in Love and War

Chances and Challenges

A/N: WOW @ just simply the amount of comments I received after asking whether or not you guys liked it enough for me to continue writing. Thank you SO much – those of you who are writers, I’m sure, understand what it feels like to write and be unsure of yourself. It was very, very much appreciated, honestly. I wasn’t fishing for compliments, as I’m sure some of you think… it was just that I saw some other stories having the same amount of readers and several times more comments, and I thought, well, there must be something wrong with my writing style or storyline if I wasn’t getting as many. So thank you a billion times over, particularly chrisddavis, IrishChic20, Poet_lover, StarlightPhoenix, LadyxEmpire, and RuFF_Changes (though no comment goes unappreciated, trust me). If you write, you know how much it means to receive even one.

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The next morning before breakfast, Severus paid a visit to the owlery. He tied five different letters to the legs of five different owls, giving them all a couple of pieces of toast before heading down to the Great Hall to eat.

The Dark wizard wasn’t surprised to see Hermione missing from the Head Table. Most of the staff members could barely restrain themselves from shooting daggers at him over their porridge and kippers, assuming that he had already driven away his new assistant. He ate a hearty breakfast, suddenly enlightened by the thought that he had gotten rid of her, eyeing them back indifferently.

Classes began as scheduled, and without fail the usual drove of first-year idiots began making the usual set of first-year mistakes. A small Slytherin boy was sent up to the infirmary when he and several of his obviously simple friends attempted to create their own potion using several packages of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans. Every couple of seconds he would morph into a new food item (Severus allowed this to continue for several minutes out of pure amusement before deciding to acknowledge their frightened pleas, but only when, amid screams of shock and bewilderment, he transformed into a pile of pepper). He didn’t even dock points from them (which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that they were from Slytherin); indeed, he was in a happier mood than most days, feeling oddly contented by the thought that Hermione was gone from the castle.

Severus was no less relieved, however, when lunchtime rolled around. His afternoon classes consisted of older, more experienced students, who were less likely to create a dangerous situation over which he would have to supervise. Yes, afternoon was a relaxing time by far for Severus Snape.

He had just finished clearing his plate and all five of his Hogwarts owls swooped in through the windows, circling over his head and hooting indignantly as they fought over placed upon which to perch. One of the owls landed on his shoulder (he twitched in irritation) and ruffled its feathers impatiently as he untied the message from its leg.

Professor Severus Snape;

I thank you for the opportunity that you have bestowed upon me. I would be delighted to make your acquaintance. If you wish, I would not be opposed to a meeting of sorts to discuss the terms and conditions of my becoming the surrogate mother of your child.
Truly yours,

Fiona Wigglesworth

The four other letters read much the same way. Severus responded to each of these, setting up appointments at the Three Broomsticks for the following day. The interviews were spaced twenty minutes apart to ensure that none of the women would encounter each other.

Severus sighed grimly. He had a feeling that this wasn’t going to go the way he wanted it to.

-----x-----

Hermione had just begun brewing a strong batch of healing potion (the trick was to let it age properly by the time Quidditch season came around) when a tremendous bang on the other side of the lab indicated that somebody had collided with the steel door she had locked upon beginning her work. Grumbling, she turned down the heat on her cauldron and made to unlock and unward the door when it flew open of its own accord, throwing the face of Hogwarts’ residing Potions master into relief.

“Miss Granger.” Severus gripped the door handle and opened it, towering above her at full height. He hesitated and she thought she saw something like disappointed in his eyes – he probably thought I left – but then he swept past her, eyeing the contents of the potion she was brewing, prodding the flame with his wand in uncomfortable silence. She cleared her throat awkwardly. There was no hint of affection or care in the way he checked over her notes, her ingredients… suddenly she was so small, shrinking, it seemed; he was almost a foot taller than she was. More to allay the unpleasant silence than to begin a conversation, she said, “How did you break the wards on my door? Some of them are of my own design—”

“I worked for the Dark Lord personally, Miss Granger,” he responded quietly, and much more quickly than he thought she would; so he was paying attention. He turned to her and once again it was as though she’d just swallowed a quick-acting Shrinking Potion. “Do you think that the Dark Lord would have allowed someone of mediocre talents into his inner-circle? Bestowed upon them the trust that was given to me?”

“N-no…” she stammered. “Of course not, I—I just…” She hadn’t expected to have to respond to an answer like this. Quick, something witty… no, that would make it seem like I’m not taking it seriously – something educational…

“Er—“ she began, most uncharacteristically at a loss for words, but she was saved the trouble of having to respond.

“Tomorrow, you will be covering my classes,” he said. His tone gave every indication that she had no choice in the matter. “I suggest you begin working on your lesson plan now. I do not know when I will return.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stalked back down the hall and into his own room, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione seethed, bustling up the challenge instantly; she shook with an anger she hadn’t felt in a long time as she watched his back retreat down the dark hall. Who did he think he was, anyway, to be able to command her like that? To take away an entire days’ work so he could have some time off, to get drunk and—and see women, and—whatever else men did in their spare time? She was repulsed by the sudden appearance of her seventeen-year-old self in her mind’s eye, an ignorant, blind, horny, lovesick teenager who hadn’t been able to see past her own haze of sexual tension. What had she seen in him? Nothing – nothing apart from what he could give her physically, that is.

“Severus Snape!” she called angrily, “You are an insufferable bastard!” Hermione slammed the door shut and redoubled her anger into producing even stronger wards. He wouldn’t be returning to the labs tonight if she could help it.

Leaning against his door, Severus’ face cracked into a mild and most atypical smile. Hermione Granger was a feisty one, but he was by far the more dominant of the two.

-----x-----

Severus awoke early the next morning and took a quick shower, donning his best dress robes and applying a small amount of sandalwood cologne that he kept only for special occasions. He tied his hair back into a neat ponytail and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He wasn’t surprised to find a frazzled-looking Hermione looking rather tired and grumpy as she tucked into a plate of eggs. A refreshing second wind gripped him as he observed her discomfort and heartily piled as much food onto his plate as he could reach. Dozens of books and spare pieces of parchment bearing her tiny, cramped writing were strewn about her plate, and the teachers on each side of her had given her a wide berth, clearly unwilling to become entangled in her early-morning brooding. After returning to his rooms, he took pity on her for reasons he was unwilling to explore and left it on the lab desk where he knew she would find it. A few minutes later, he left for Hogsmeade.

The first witch was already there when he arrived. Severus eyed her appreciatively as he gazed down at her. She had worn a green robe – Slytherin colors, as he had requested. She didn’t look bad in them, either. As a matter of fact, she was really quite pretty, even if she wasn’t in perfect alignment with his preferences. Her eyes were big and round, baby blue and glancing around nervously, giving her the appearance of a deer caught in the headlights. Her hair, stick-straight and blonde, tumbled down her face, the frayed edges kissing the shoulders of her faded robe. Thin, heart-shaped face. Large, melon-shaped breasts. Severus had always appreciated curves on a woman, but he preferred those curves on a smaller frame. A bit like…

“Fiona?” he questioned briskly as he swooped down into the booth seat across from her, jarring his thoughts loose. She jumped slightly as he sat down, her eyes wide.

“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, breaking into a fit of giggles. “You’re like, that hero guy I’m meeting. I’m so stupid,” she added, fanning her face dramatically. “I thought you were like, trying to kidnap me or something.”

Severus nodded, staring at her expressionlessly. He didn’t quite know what to say, wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He wasn’t one to dwell on first impressions, but the tightening knot in his stomach implored his subconscious to kick this witch to the curb and wait for the next one.

“So…” he began slowly. Maybe if he paused more in between words, it would give her a chance to catch up. “…What school did you say you went to?”

“Oh… I didn’t,” she responded, equally as slow.

“I know you didn’t. That’s why I’m asking,” he said, and already he could feel his patience wearing thing.

“No, silly,” she said, giggling in that annoyingly over-zealous way. Why did witches always fucking giggle? It was one of many qualities that he hated about them. “I mean, I don’t go to school. I dropped out. It was, like, way too hard. I’m not good at any of that magic stuff.”

“You’re not good at any of that thinking stuff, either,” he muttered bitterly.

“What?” she asked, tilting her head as she waited for a response. When none came, she grinned provocatively, leaning forwards across the table and sliding her hand over his arm. Her breasts spilled out over the neck of her low-cut robe. This, at least, was something she felt confident in her ability to do.

“I’m totally into that vampire stuff,” she purred, her voice low, seduction dripping over every word. Severus watched in utter disgust as she ran her tongue across her lips, glossy and tinted pink through some magically-done cosmetic enhancement. “I guess I have, like, a kinky sex fetish or something.” But only if that fetish included being paid ridiculous amounts of gold to be a wizard’s consort for nine months and give him a child. Any damage to her body in the process could be magically repaired, of course.

She nodded. Severus’ mouth curled into a smirk. This was going to be fun.

“Well, Miss Wigglesworth,” he cooed, “why don’t we go see… how far you’re willing to go for me?”

Fiona’s eyes lit up instantly and she nodded, rising from her seat. She eyed the wizard with a dreamy, far-away look. He was her kind of wizard – tall, dark and rich. Nobody could say he was classically handsome, but there was certainly something appealing about him. She had this one in the bag.

Severus took her arm and together they strolled out of the Three Broomsticks. They walked to the end of the lane, farther, even, than the last store within Hogsmeade boundaries. He led her to buxom blonde to Midnight Wands – bar by day, motel by night.

“Room for two,” Severus growled at the short, balding man behind the counter. His nose wrinkled in distaste. The man looked remarkably similar to a sewer rat with his long, curved nose and wispy gray hair. A fat, dirty, perverted rat.

“Room for two,” the bartender repeated, and the slightest traces of a sneer were evidence in his annoyingly whiny voice. “That’ll be two Galleons. Last room on the right, sir and… ma’am.” He stressed the last word with something similar to a purr, caressing Fiona’s body with glazed eyes. “If you should find our services unsatisfactory, a full Galleon-back offer is guaranteed.”

Severus pitched a few Galleons onto the counter and worked his way down the hall, Fiona following close behind him like an obedient dog following its master. She was almost salivating as she fantasized about what the Potions master was going to do to her (and what she was going to spend his money on). Delicious shivers embraced her body in its electric grip. You’ve got this one.

The Dark wizard smirked as he pushed open the motel room door. It was uncomfortably small, with a double bed in the corner, a tiny bathroom and no windows. Oh well. This room hadn’t been made to sleep in, anyway.

He turned when he heard the door close behind him. Fiona was leaning against it, the fringes of her hair sweeping against the tops of her breasts, hips jutting forward as her shoulders resting against the closed door. Her blue eyes gleamed with something that Severus didn’t recognize. Victory, maybe. Or so she thought.

“So,” she said, her voice low and sultry, smooth. Her eyes burned and she sidled towards him, her hips swaying in wide arcs. She slid behind him, her lips pressed to the nape of his neck gentle as she whispered into his hear. “Want to see what I can do… Severus?” His name rolled over her tongue like chocolate, all silk and velvet.

Severus turned and took her by the shoulders, shoving her back onto the bed roughly. She let out a small squeal as her body bounced on the mattress and Severus climbed on top of her, straddling her waist with his knees. Her eyes were hot and inviting as she gazed up at him. So that’s what kind of wizard he was. He stared back at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, and she could see the blue-black stubble that lined the lower half of his face. With a small growl, he trapped her wrists over her head, clutching them powerfully as she writhed beneath him, her back arching, searching for contact.

“Yeah, baby!” she cried out. Severus winced. She was trying hard. He was almost embarrassed for her.

Almost.

Holding her wrists down with one hand, he reached into his robe pocket and withdrew his wand, pointing it squarely into her chest.

“Petrificus totalus!” he said. Immediately, her body stiffened and her skin frosted over into a pasty-white, almost as If she were covered in a fine layer of snow. He reared back and stared down at her for a moment, admiring his work, though distaste was etched in every line in his face. Fiona’s large blue eyes widened in shock and desperation as he replaced his wand in his pocket and moved towards the door, smirking.

“Is that kinky enough?” he cooed, opening the door and backing out of it slowly. “Having sex without any physical contact whatsoever.”

Severus closed the door quietly and retreated down the hall. That would give the witch a few things to think about, the least of which being the large hole she had failed to burn in his pocketbook.

“Done already, Master Snape?” questioned the short, fat owner. Usually when Severus came around, he was preoccupied for hours.

“She is resting,” he said automatically. “Wait for a few hours before waking her.”

“Yes, Master Snape,” he replied sycophantically. So the witch was sleeping. Perhaps he could sneak a few good looking at her before she awoke.

By the time Severus arrived at the Three Broomsticks, the second witch was already there. She, like Fiona, had worn a green cloak, as per his request. But unlike Fiona, she wasn’t very attractive. Severus sighed in disappointment. He could always simply cast a Fertility Charm on the witch rather than bed her himself.

He seated himself opposite her and she waved timidly. Hmm. She wasn’t as hard on the eyes as he had thought from a distance. Not beautiful by anybody’s standard, but not a beast, either. He said nothing, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Severus Snape?” she questioned, and continued after receiving a curt nod to go on. “I’m Cairn Macduff. You may have heard of me… I work for the Daily Prophet?” she offered fastidiously. He nodded again, though he had never heard her name. “But I’m just working there until I can afford to go to university.”

“What for, Miss Macduff?” he probed.

“Oh, I want to become a Potions mistress,” she sighed. Her eyes glazed over excitedly. “I have ever since I was a little girl.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose appreciatively. Here, at least, was a woman who understand the subtleties involved in potion-making. This interview was a far cry from the last. He knew how challenging it would be to earn a degree in Potion-making, and it cost a pretty penny. If she earned one, he would look forward to having not only an assistant, but a consort and intellectual companion for nine months. Not the least of the perks being him giving that insufferable Granger the boot.

“That’s very ambitious, Miss Macduff,” he commented politely. The prospect was looking bright so far.

“Here’s your tea, ma’am,” chirped one of the barmaids as she strode over to them hurriedly. Severus watched the scene play out like a film in slow-motion: the eager barmaid stumbled over an untied shoelace and fell, overturning the cup of tea over the bright green robe of his new surrogate. She stood up with a squeal of surprise, and Severus’ eyes bulged.

She was already pregnant. Very pregnant.

Noticing the look on his face, Cairn huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, how else did you expect me to pay for university?”

-----x-----

“How… how old were you, again?” Severus asked slowly.

The girl looked down into her lap nervously. “Well… I’m thirteen now, but I’ll be fourteen when the baby is born!”

Severus growled.

-----x-----

Severus stared at the face of the woman sitting across the table from him. He doubted very much that she was human.

“Alright, so I’m part mountain troll,” she admitted, “but it shouldn’t affect the baby too much.”

Severus banged his head on the table.

-----x-----

“Hey. Hey, Madame Rosmerta,” Severus slurred drunkenly. “‘Nother Firewhiskey, woman.”

Severus had been drinking since late afternoon. He hadn’t bothered to meet the last witch, afraid that she would somehow turn out to be worse than the previous four. Not that he could think of anything that could have been a bigger fiasco.

Ron Weasley, maybe.

“Now, now, Severus,” Rosmerta scolded playfully, “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink for tonight.”

He scanned her body discreetly as she tended to other customers. She wasn’t a classic beauty, but there was no deny that Rosmerta was an attractive woman. Perhaps she could be the mother of his heir. Maybe they could even fall in love, though Severus doubted that any woman would give him the chance, let alone tolerate him for the rest of his natural life. He didn’t mind. He was used to being alone. In fact, he preferred his solitary lifestyle.

“Rosmerta, will you bear my children?” he asked, forcing his buzzing vision to bring her into focus.

She began to laugh, but when she realized that he wasn’t joking, she quickly busied herself with something on the other side of the bar.

Damn it.

Severus returned to Hogwarts just as the sun had disappeared below the horizon, black bruised with blue and shot through with poisonous green. He grinned sadistically, wondering how Hermione had fared: his first-year morning classes were notoriously untalented. Knowing that someone else was potentially more miserable than he was made him feel better about his less-than-productive afternoon.

Severus stumbled down to the dungeons, ignoring the annoyed looks on his students’ faces when they realized that his absence didn’t mean he had been fired (or killed, as he was sure their highest aspirations for him had been). They much preferred the pretty young witch who had substituted for him this afternoon.

He unwarded his door and entered, drinking in the silence and darkness that greeted him, despite the annoying alcohol buzz in his ears. Severus had always appreciated the darkness. It concealed him, not only in physicality but in thought, his mismatched Muggle clothing, his darkest nature and his lies, hiding everything about him that he wished others not to know. No one needed to know what he was. They didn’t need to know what he felt.

But a paltry ray of light disturbed his reflections. It crawled from beneath his laboratory door, lodging firmly in his eyes, his brain, his thoughts, distorting the perfect darkness that he existed in. Confused and disoriented, he pried the door open.

Hermione sat, head propped up against her closed fist, scribbling furiously on a roll of parchment. A shock of golden-brown curls had escaped the haphazard bun nestled in the crook of her neck, and a loose ringlet lay flush against her dampened pink cheek. She murmured quietly to herself, reciting notes as her lips, her perfect lips, formed around the words that he couldn’t quite hear. Severus looked on in stunned silence, drunk off the simplicity of her beauty, and a subtle grunt brought him to the crashing realization that he was attracted to her, he was turned on, his robes were tenting subtly in places that would have looked very untoward if she decided to look up in that moment, but he didn’t care, his eyes traced the dome of her forehead and, unhindered, the protrusion of her robes that indicated breasts lay beneath them. Perfectly, supremely unconcerned in this golden moment, he continued to stare at her unchastely. Was this reaction right? She was a student, after all, a student he hated, despised, had spent seven years attempting to have expelled… no, she was an associate now, an equal… a grown woman…

Hermione looked up at long last and Severus thought she surely must have felt the heat of his gaze on her. Her lips parted with unanswered questions and she jumped slightly as he dove for the back desk, looking slightly confused and, she thought, drunk.

“Professor Snape—?”

“I trust you found the day to be challenging, Miss Granger?” he sneered, and was grateful that his voice had lost none of its potency, at least.

“Challenging… yes,” she responded slowly, reluctantly, not completely convinced that there was nothing amiss, but she continued despite the warning bells going off in her brain. “But I enjoyed it. Now, look—” she held up the parchment she had been working on, as if he would have been able to read her tiny, rounded script from his place all the way across the room, and intoxicated besides. “I’ve compiled an evaluation of all your students, and I’ve included…” Severus stared at her, dumbfounded, as she babbled on, so sweetly oblivious to the effect her words, her presence, were having on him. He watched her hands become animated, gesticulating excitedly, her eyes shining over as they did when she was faced with a challenge, describing in detail the goings-on of every insignificant second of her classes. Her hands… they looked so tiny, delicate, and he wondered how they had ever formed into some of the most impressive written work he had ever read, and suddenly, he had a wild, drunken urge to touch them, just lightly, to see if they might break—

“…Can you hear me? Well, I didn’t mark them down for making a mistake, but instead—”

“Good work,” he said quickly, turning in an instant to retreat to his rooms. He slammed the door behind him and warded it several times over, leaving his confused assistant staring after him, bewildered.

Severus stood in the darkness, breathing heavily, until he heard her gathering up her things and return to her own room. All of his muscles relaxed as he slipped into his bed, not bothering to remove his robes. Had he really just… no, but it was Hermione Granger, Hermione bloody Granger of the Golden Trio, who he hated, despised on principle, for whom… he’d just had a nearly irresistible urge to fuck so hard that she passed out.

What are you doing to me?