For all the times he saved me

Hermione felt like she was dreaming. She pinched herself. Auch. It's real. Wow... it's real. She could smell them. They reached from floor to ceiling, there wasn't an empty space left of either the walls, or the wood which covered it. She turned, slowly, taking in the sight of the room. So this was what heaven looked like. For a bookworm. A thought struck her. Oh Damn. How was she going to fit in her own? There was no room... Bugger.

He almost laughed out loud when he heard what she was thinking. Little brat actually thought he was giving up his space for her. No way. In Hell. Ever. He was so preoccupied with the girl turning in circles in the middle of his library, he hadn't even noticed the wolf had sneaked out. Untill he heard the door close. He was going to pay for that. Seriously.
"Your bedroom is over there." He pointed at a bookcase in the far corner. She actually had the nerve to look puzzled. "But how?"
"For fuck's sake, are you a witch or what?" He waved his hand, and the bookcase moved. "You'll have to use your wand of course. They might call you good, but you're not that good."
He turned on his heel and walked to the door. She scowled at his back, quickly transforming it to a smile as she saw him turn back on the threshold.
"Oh and... Don't touch my books." He said, and left.
Bugger. Her hands were itching. She wanted to touch the leather spines, revel in the feel of the old yellowed pages, drown in the smell of the aged paper. Didn't he know this room was like sex to a geek like her? The thought struck so hard, it made her giggle. Yes he did. He was one. She made a mental note to add some space for her own one day soon. When he had cooled off a little.
Her bedroom was pretty. There was no other word for it. Unfortunately she didn't care for pretty all that much. A simple transfiguration would take care of that. Tomorrow. It was late, or actually, it was very early, about four in the morning. She dumped her clothes where she stood, and flung herself on the painfully purple bedcovers. Thank god she couldn't see them with her eyes closed.

She opened her eyes. Bugger. It was way too early. A quick tempus told her it was 7:45. So much for a lie in on saturday. She looked around to see what had woken her. Hmm, dresser, unopened packages, clothes on the floor, a huge brown, angry owl, chair, desk. wait... Owl? It hooted. Fine, owl. It flew from it's perch on the windowsill, window? hmmm... enchanted? She should check it out, and landed on the foot of her still ugly bed. It stuck out it's leg. After she took the note off it, the giant bird swooped around the room once, and flew into the fireplace. It was gone in a whoosh of green flames. Great. Just great.
She had no idea why Minerva wanted to see her this early, but it must've been important. She hoped. If it wasn't, she could not be blamed for hexing the old woman.
She pulled herself out of the bed and placed herself infront of it. The note said she was to meet her in an hour, which meant she had about thirty minutes to rearrange this horrid room. It only took her fifteen. She smiled. This was more like it. The offending purple had been removed, leaving warm dark browns in it's wake. She had transfigured her large fireplace into a beautiful grey slate piece of art, with carvings around the edges of the things she and her two best friends had done when they had been in school. A huge mirror in an oak frame hung above the mantle, and she had placed a small clock and two family fotos on it. Gods, she missed those kids. She let herself fall into one of the new chairs. She had made two comfortable chairs, one a deep brown leather one, with a low back, and enough room to have three of her on it, with room to spare, and another one, a beautiful burgandy color, with a high backrest, in which she would feel like a queen. She curled herself up in the leather one for the moment, staring into the fire and just thinking for a while.

A knock woke her. Bugger. She glanced at the clock. 15 minutes. Thank Merlin. She could get dressed and floo up if she had to. Another soft knock.
"Granger?" Oh. Him.
"One moment" she called, and ran to the antique oak armoire which had replaced the horrid pink thing. She looked through her clothes. Maybe something her mystery person had paid for? If it had been Minerva, she would like to be seen in it. If it had been Severus... Ha... No... She sniggered at the thought.
"I do not have all day you know" The deep dark tones of his voice sounded almost nice, clouded heavily by a veil of annoyance, mind. She looked down. She was standing there in a very tight pair of jeans, barefoot, and with only a lacy black bra on top. Hmm. Why not? It wasn't as if her body was all that horrible, plus, the scars she had, he had most definitely seen before, be it on others. Maybe even on himself. Fine. She stalked over to the door and wrenched it open so fast, he didn't have time to react.
"I told you one moment. Have you no patience?" She actually said it with a straight face. Yay her. His face was priceless. He looked as though she had hit him with a bludger's bat. Or maybe opened the door wearing nothing but nargles. His jaw was located somewhere on the floor, and she remembered what he had said that morning. "If you would be so obliged, kindly raise your jaw off my floor, thank you."
She turned back to her armoire quickly, feeling the smirk creeping onto her face without her consent. She just hoped he hadn't seen it. He snapped his jaw shut, but didn't move, one way or another. She could feel his eyes on her, raking over her figure. If she hadn't known him better, she would've thought he was checking her out. But she knew him. Maybe even more than he thought she did. Better not mention that though. She picked up two sweaters. One was grey, tight around her middle, and with loose sleeves. The other one was a V-neck knit grey sweater, with burgundy red stripes around the wrists and the coller. She held them up, one in each hand.
"Which one?" She asked him. Again not even a giggle. Another yay for her. She knew her body. She also knew that when she reached her arms up like that, it brought out her ample chest and her flat stomach. She knew exactly what she would be putting any normal man through. If they were straight. After finding him with Remus the night before, she wasn't so sure, but judging by the look he had given her when she'd opened the door, he at least swung both ways.
"Might I suggest your robes?" He asked.
Okay, maybe not...

He was delighted at the way her face fell. She had been exceedingly proud of her accomplishment. But he doubted she wanted to know what he had really been thinking. He didn't even want to. Unfortunately one cannot stay out of one's own head. The image she had provided would probably haunt him for a very long time. Maybe if he tried to imagine it to be someone else? Hmm. That might work. He'd had enough of fucking people he detested, and he really wasn't the kind of person who went for little girls. Although, looking at the body she had hidden under her robes all that time, she had physically crossed into adulthood many a moon ago. It didn't matter. He still detested her. If only his own treacherous body would realise that. He glanced around the room.
"You've made it almost habitable haven't you?" He looked back at the witch. She was rummaging in her armoire again. It almost looked like a real antique. Good for her, she had mastered her household spells. Honestly, brightest witch of her age, and she goes around transfiguring furniture and raising children. He shook himself a little. What did he care?
"Was there something you wanted?" she asked him.
Was there? Oh right. Throwing her a bone, the wolf had called it. Leave it to a wolf screwing a great big black labrador retriever to come up with that analogy.
"As you will be living here," He had asked, or rather demanded of, Minerva why she would have to live there. She had called it non-negotionable. Hell. "You will need your own entrance. I will make one, but I am not inclined to give up my library. Will you find it agreeable if I made an extention to the room for your own books, and we can share it?"
He looked her straight in the eye. She froze, as if thinking, in the middle of changing her jeans. Gods, as certain parts of his body started to react to the view he was getting of her arse, he could almost see the nightmares forming in his subconcious. She seemed to have come to a conclusion, for she had resumed dressing herself. He drove his nails into the palm of his hand at the pang of regret he felt. Gods man, you need to get yourself laid soon.
"Will I be allowed to read your books?" She asked as she pulled on an entirely different shirt than she had considered before. It was a nice corsetlike top, with strings holding the back closed. He groaned inwardly. Atop that knee-length skirt she was now wearing, she looked devine. He felt like he would lose last night's diner any moment now. He caught a brainwave. She could be an antenna for the muggle television, that's how strong a broadcaster she was. Half the time he didn't even need to make an effort to know what she was thinking. She would go to Minerva if he wouldn't let her.
"Fine" He grumbled. "But not yet. I will make a bookcase with volumes you will be allowed to read, the others you will not touch."
He mentally patted himself on the back. How was that for compromise? How had she called it? Oh right. Yay for him.
"I can live with that. But where will you make the entrance?" She asked, in the middle of slipping on 5 inch heals. He needed to get out of there. He had always been a sucker for heels. He pretended to look at the family fotos she had placed on the mantle. Pretty red-headed kids. Real Weasleys. Yugh.
"Where it has always been, I will move the bookcase which blocks it."
"Deal" She moved over to where he stood. He knew it was coming, but he couldn't make his body respond fast enough to move out of the way. She kissed him on the cheek and stepped into the fireplace. In an inferno of green flames, she was gone. His mind had gone blank. The spot where her lips had touched him, his skin tingled. Oh Merlin. Like a small child he wiped his sleeve over his cheeck. It didn't help. He stalked out of the room. Was it him or was the nausea getting worse?

She blinked. Had she heard that correctly? Couldn't have. "Sorry?"
"Oh, come on, dear, it's not that bad. Remus and Severus could use the help, and I thought you would be perfect for it." Hermione leaned back in her chair facing the headmisstress. She couldn't help notice the large portrait of Dumbledore nodding his encouragement. Bugger. They wouldn't let her go unless she agreed. She sighed.
"Fine, I'll help them on the potion." At least it explained the robes Severus had suggested in Diagon Alley. One mystery solved. Now for the next one. "Minerva?"
"Yes dear?" She looked up into the eyes of her former head of house. "Did you pay for my supplies?"
The reaction she got made her heart sink. The confused expression on her face said it all. She didn't even need to answer. Hermione held up a hand.
"Never mind. I'll see you at breakfast, yeah?" Minerva nodded, a forlorn look in her eyes. As the young girl left her office, she turned to the portrait, the questions written clearly on her face. Albus merely smirked.
"Take a guess" He said. Her eyes widened in understanding. He nodded. They said the name simultaneously. "Severus"