I was having a rotten day beta’ing a story that had something like 26 semi-colons in the first page. So I had the idea to try to write the ultimate run-on sentence in bad fiction. I wrote the first sentence, Pearle and Shiv jumped in and created this masterpiece.

 

We started it a long time ago, so it ignores the canon of the  last few books.

 

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

or How Not To Write FanFiction

By Pearlevision and Shiv with Periwinkle

 

It was a dark and stormy night, rain battering against the windows, and Severus was huddled beside his fireplace, which was laid with brimstone logs (a recent product in the Wizarding community and wildly popular), holding onto his glass of firewhisky which glowed a pale amber in the firelight, while he contemplated various ways to torture or otherwise aggravate Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, also known as The Boy-Who-Made-His-Life-Hell, when he realized that all he had to do was "accidentally" let drop a word in front of that bushy-haired know-it-all, the only one with any brains in the trio, Hermione, and tell her that Harry had failed to turn in his homework and let her have at him.

Which entrancing prospect, though admittedly intriguing, was hardly sufficient to assuage or palliate the almost overwhelming irritation that he felt almost every time his mind drifted to the manifestly moronic teenager breathing through his mouth in potions classes with what might otherwise pass for open-mouthed awe and admiration but should more properly and accurately be characterised as rank and overwhelming stupidity, and the mere recollection of which was sufficient to encourage him to think of a more intriguing and thorough revenge, such as telling the Boy Wonder that he had been shagging the bushy-haired know-it-all repeatedly, frantically and energetically in as many convoluted and athletic positions as was humanly possible since the start of term - the only problem with that was the mere and trifling detail that he was not actually in fact making the beast with two backs with the young woman in question, though that was obviously something that could change in the fullness of time given sufficient opportunity and perhaps the application of potions of an exotic nature – and luxuriate in the horrified expression that would cross the face of the Boy-who-lived-to-be-traumatised when he heard the detailed exposition of their trysts as he oh so casually dropped the news into some passing conversation over dinner one evening and waited for the penny to drop loudly enough to shatter the peace at Hogwarts for months to come and which could even bring the portraits from the walls or topple the statues from the niches in which they currently resided in peace and tranquillity.

It was just a sacrifice he would have to make.

Faced with the horns of a dilemma, one in which he sincerely hoped his supposedly omniscient friend and mentor, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore - who really wasn’t as all-seeing and all-knowing as he pretended to be but relied on a well organized system of talking portraits and enchanted furniture, as well as loyal ghosts, to report to him on a timely basis when he couldn’t very well be in two place at once - was blind to, blind to the fact that his current occupation and the overwhelming force in his life at this moment in time consisted solely of thinking up ways of tricking, manipulating, coaxing and other wise coercing - though now that he thought about it, he would want her to be his willingly - and know that when the morning came, or late night if he managed to convince her that their mutual intelligence could lead to more mutually satisfying activities for the both of them during the early evening hours instead of the dead of night, and they lay there in the afterglow of their combined efforts, having satisfied both their primal and intellectual urges, that time spent with him was time well spent in the pursuit of a number of varied interests - none of which Potter, the annoying pain in the arse who still refused to die but did somehow manage to defeat He-Should-Never-Have-Lived-In-The-First-Place, and his equally annoying side kick Weasley, who once again reinforced his theory that nature loves a vacuum or the kid could not continue to exist, could not now nor any time in the future every give her the stimulation she needed both mentally or physically that only he could supply.

He only hoped she would go for it.

Hermione, meanwhile, was contemplating what to do with her future and thoughtfully pondering on the issue of what on earth she was going to do with the rest of her life now that He-who-could-be-damned-well-named-now-thank-you-very-much had been so very thoroughly and completely removed by the simple solution of overwhelming him with love by means of force-feeding his Death Eaters a potion designed to turn them into little fluffy kittens of love and having them confess their deep seated need for love, affection and respect, culminating in a positive orgy of exchanges of physical affection (scenes that were shocking in their variety and athleticism and showed that redemption was something that should be welcomed and eagerly embraced, repeatedly and at length) until Voldemort could stand it no longer and expired from heart failure at the damage wreaked on his band of heartless killers – or was it excitement, or, even more likely, the sad and certain knowledge that never would he be looked on in such a way, and even if he was, he would never be able to participate due to a trifling error in the spell that had resurrected him – and had come to the conclusion that high on her list of priorities (which included such multifarious items as becoming Minister for Magic, seeing that Dumbledore was prohibited from wearing such violently coloured robes in public without a licence, making sure that Harry and Ron shut up talking about Quidditch long enough to pass their exams well, slapping Ginny into the middle of next week for following Harry round like a lost sheep, and buying a new pair of red, high heeled shoes with gold trim) was the luring into bed of one Severus Snape (perhaps she should get some seductive underwear as well – she added it to the list after due consideration; it was a good idea) who had impressed her with the skill and determination with which he had undertaken the delicate and crucial task of slipping the aforesaid magical potion into the pre-Dark Revel drinks of his illicit confreres by merely informing them – entirely truthfully as it turned out – that it was a potent aphrodisiac that had the power to ensure that they would have sufficient lead in their pencil to be able to perform all night long and for several days afterwards should the need arise (rumour had it that all of the Death Eaters involved were still locked together in some giant sexual daisy chain and that their trial had had to be postponed until Lucius Malfoy’s erection had subsided, which did not seem to be a very likely prospect due to his already high sex drive that was the stuff of legends, because it would not befit the dignity of the Wizengamot to have malefactors appear before them in a state of undress let alone whilst engaged in intercourse even if they had been subjected to Petrificus Totalis) as well as his nobility in being prepared to sacrifice himself for the cause in that he too had been compelled to ingest the potion, and it was only the swift administering of the antidote by Poppy Pomfrey that had allowed him to regain his faculties and sufficient self-control to be able to resist the temptation to shag everyone and everything that had crossed his path, which had come as something of a relief to both the Headmaster and the House Elves, but had been nothing less than a catastrophic disappointment to the bushy haired Gryffindor who had been really rather enjoying the energetic embrace she had been subjected to, and who had been prepared to lay down – not her life, just lay down – for the good of the cause and ensuring that Professor Snape retained his sanity so that he would be able to invigilate the Potions Newt the week after, which seemed to her to be a matter of such importance that it could justify the small matter of student – teacher relations as being an emergency that, whilst it feel short of a life and death situation, could nonetheless result in serious dislocation of the entire academic year and the employment prospects of her year mates.

He’d turned out to be a very good kisser indeed.

Hermione was lost in contemplation as she slung her bulging book bag over her shoulder before crossing over the threshold of her head girl room portrait, though really crossing over was a bit misleading when you practically had to climb the ruddy thing by lifting your leg high enough to let whoever was standing in the corridor at the time see the colour of your knickers (which was the reason she had owl-ordered several pairs of green and silver silk drawers from a very special and discrete company over the summer break rather then be caught with shabby knickers in the event she should encounter a certain dark and mysterious professor – who had to be oblivious to the fact that she fancied him, though after that duel of tongues in the Hospital wing and the hardness and length of his body pressed against hers might mean he did have an inkling or two as to her true feelings for him and might even reciprocate said feelings and the Dynamic Duo, as Harry and Ron had taken to calling themselves after the fall of He-Who-Could-Now-Be-Named-But-Was-Still-Referred-To-As-He-Who-Could-Not-Be-Named-Out-Of-Sheer-Habit-And-Laziness or Voldemort, be damned) or if you were saucy enough, as she had heard rumours of a few past head girls who lived up to their titles, you could go without afore mentioned knickers but she was more subtle than that and would rather have said dark and mysterious professor on a more even playing field than just a quick shag because he happened to be walking by at the right time and was propelled into action by outside stimuli alone without the proper emotions attached to those movements though he did seem to be acting on both counts in the infirmary and it had seemed as if he would have continued if bloody Madam I-Have-My-Nose-In-Everyone’s-Business Pomfrey had not come to what she considered to be the rescue with the antidote to the Moldy Voldy Love Potion as they had taken to calling it after witnessing the many and varied activities of the affected Death Eaters (some quite creative for die hard, narrow minded cretins who had followed a megalomaniac since their youth) and neutralized the potion in the dark and mysterious Professor . before events could progress further than just a delightful snog confirming her belief that he was a deep well of emotions and passion just waiting for her to tap into as she thought she had witnessed those restrained emotions seemingly each time he held himself in check when dealing with Neville Longbottom (who, if rumours were true, was still embroiled in a heated but secret relationship with a Slytherin who he refused to name and that the Slytherin in question was of the same gender as he and had come to discover the hidden and overlooked natural tendency of Neville’s interest when working on a senior project together which was due next week - which was the week before graduation and the leaving feast but thankfully three weeks after their NEWTs for Heaven’s sake - for Herbology involving the growth and nature of Pansies in relationship to Dark potions and the position of the Earth) or Harry and Ron for that matter, though she did notice his hands would tremble a little during Order meetings when either of them spoke (though on second thought, tremble might not be the right word to describe the rhythmic opening and closing of his long pale fingers before they seem to clutch and shake at something it seemed only he could see – something that would have been a neck if she had to hazard a guess) when they were slacking off on their assigned potions for the Advanced Potions class the three of them were currently enrolled in (the Dynamic Duo by the most generous and pushy nature of Headmaster Dumbledore when it became known they wanted to continue to Auror training but did not have the OWL grades to attend the upper level potions classes through to the final advanced level which was a definite requirement of the Ministry of Magic’s if you were going to attend the Auror Academy, though if they had only listened to her and revised when she did they too might have achieved the level of OWL she had in potions even if they had not paid attention in class during the past school years or read any of the outside materials which were fascinating in their own right and would have been something she would have perused on her own anyway and proved invaluable when taking the exam thus allowing her to achieve the highest – alright a tie, actually, with said dark and mysterious professor though still the highest - score in potions in the history of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and thereby allowing her automatic entry into the upper level classes and thrice weekly double sessions for the remainder of her schooling) and was her current destination instead of the Great Hall for a spot of breakfast (which she could have used so she could keep her mind on her potions project and off of the object of her pondering, said pondering being the reason she was currently late and in the state she was in, not wanting to wake from such a delightful dream of the two of them using various potions and spells for something other than their intended purpose since someone of his level of intelligence must have achieved the means of alternate thinking by now) and the chance to meet up with her friends (though that title was going to be a misnomer if she heard them refer to her possible intended as the greasy git or bat of the dungeon once more in her presence considering they should have guessed her feelings for the man, not withstanding the fact that dark and mysterious had saved both their arses during the final battle – a feat they had yet to thank him for and might prove to be a way for her to get him alone as a plan started to formulate in her mind involving showing him, rather than telling him, how grateful she was that he had saved not only her friends but the Wizarding world at large, said plan being devious and against all rules and keeping in line with the fact she and her friends and been acting outside convention for the last six years so she saw no reason to start doing so now) and allow her to leisurely stroll to class instead of the hurried stride she was now forced to maintain as she quickly rounded the last corner at almost a run if she was to arrive before the first bell.

In her haste, she failed to notice the object of her desires striding toward her until she slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground and causing the tray of potions he was carrying to spill over the two of them.


Hermione was rendered almost entirely speechless – other than a faint grunt - by the sudden arrival of the object of her affections, largely due to the way that air had been forced out of her lungs by the force of their collision, but that did not prevent her well developed and over-active brain from jerking into fitful life upon being so fortuitously presented with the welcome opportunity to finally achieve that which she had desired so earnestly and for so long, nor did it prevent her from wondering just precisely what was in the multifarious multi-coloured potions that had showered down upon the pair of them, and whether it was something that would have a deleterious effect upon her or whether it was something that was going to advance her romantic cause – and was it too much to hope that he had been brewing something analogous to the Moldy Voldy love potion, which would allow them to rekindle their burgeoning relationship, if that was not too grand a word for this strange yearning that filled her (who knew how he felt about such matters) whenever she saw his dear face across a crowded room or in passing in the corridor, and bring it to its entirely natural and highly desirable conclusion as many times as possible during the course of an evening, which she hoped would be really rather a lot, despite his advancing years, as basic research conducted in the Restricted Section one night after stealing Harry’s invisibility cloak – though she had not told him why she had wanted to borrow it, as it was unlikely he would greet the news of her interest in Severus Snape with anything other than horror and, perhaps, projectile vomiting - had suggested that seven or eight times a night was entirely feasible without the benefit of aphrodisiacal aids, and all too vividly remembered scenes from the raid on Voldemort’s lair suggested that it was possible to double if not triple that given certain conditions, though she would of course be prepared to settle for a lot less than that, especially if she had not had sufficient time to prepare a suitable lubricant – extra heavy duty machine oil sprang to mind as being the only thing that would be good enough – to ameliorate the friction burns that would otherwise arise as a result of such prolonged and enthusiastic love making – and she hoped that would be an accurate description of their activities - but it seemed that the sticky potions were not of the necessary type to engender the passionate reaction that she had been eagerly hoping for as the prone form of Severus was seemingly unable or unwilling to do any thing more energetic than lie on the ground groaning feebly and clutching at his lower back: it seemed that she had grievously injured him, though she doubted that it was anywhere near as serious as he was presently indicating, and it was much more likely that he was following in the ancient and venerable tradition of the male of the species everywhere and swinging the lead in the hope of getting tea and sympathy and a soothing hand on his forehead – or perhaps elsewhere – which she would be entirely willing to supply if she thought it would help to advance her cause and that her advances would be warmly welcomed, but it was difficult to read the feelings of such an enigmatic man as Severus Snape and determine whether it would be acceptable to lean across to the writhing man – and how that gave her lots of eminently unsuitable and very, very naughty ideas that she would love to put into practice now that she had him at her mercy – and stop up his mouth with sweet kisses that would also have the effect of stopping that constant moaning, which she would have considered to be sexy and arousing if it had been due to causes other than pain, but she had a nasty feeling – nay, a nagging doubt - that such an approach would be received with nothing other than a sneer, coupled with cutting sarcasm and resulting in a wounding rejection that she would find difficult to recover from, though whether this would be due to some concerns about the propriety of snogging a pupil, no matter how close to leaving Hogwarts, or - and how she devoutly hoped this would not be the case – the much more cruel rejection of her as being unattractive due to a lack of age and experience, or being a ... Gryffindor, or some other quality or characteristic that he found utterly repellent and which could not be altered by means of some hair smoothing charm or the application of make up, though it seemed from the way that he was looking at her with a wicked gleam in his eye – now that he had recovered his breath and his wits – that his thoughts were beginning to turn in the right direction, a thought that was happily confirmed when he reached across and, with tender fingers, wiped away the congealing droplets of the green potion that were trickling down her face, before continuing on to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, and stroking down her neck to come tentatively to rest on her shoulder in a gesture that could be taken to be perfectly innocent concern for her well being after the collision – though no one would consider that that was likely bearing in mind his reputation as a cold and heartless man who cared nothing for his students, though Hermione was of the opinion that this was nothing less than a vile slander against a man who, though not necessarily the most obviously appealing or friendly person, was clearly a man of honour who had risked his life to protect his charges – rather than some improper approach, which gave him the opportunity to test the waters – as it were – and see whether his advances would be welcome without the risk of having his face slapped, though why he should think that was likely bearing in mind the warmth of his reception when he had been under the influence of the potion; it was clear from the warm and affectionate smile that greeted his actions, and the subtle and almost flirtatious glance that she threw him from beneath her eyelashes that his approaches were gratefully received and would be warmly reciprocated if he were to press them further, which encouragement was all he needed to pull her towards him by applying a gentle but insistent pressure to her shoulders and press his warm lips to hers in a passionate kiss that seemed to go on for hours and hours.

It was as good as she remembered.

He could feel her tongue, among other things, like her normally overstuffed book bag (god, what in the bloody hell did she carry in there anyway that couldn’t be left in her room or, for that matter, in the Restricted Section, since she was so apt at slipping in there when no one was looking and the rules be damned, which she and the Dream Team, or the Dynamic Duo as he had actually heard Potter call him self and his equally moronic companion Weasley before he choked on his tea one morning at breakfast - though Dynamic was probably a real misnomer for the two when they seemed to be anything but dynamic at times - were so apt to ignore regardless if it just happened to work out by dumb luck each time they were in the wrong place at the wrong time) that was currently digging into his left hip and making this most enjoyable experience of attempting to read and map each others tonsils, though he could think of a few other places he would like to map out and maybe get some hands on experience on this delightful witch who seemed just as willing as he was, more if he really thought about it, which he had, in great detail each and every night since they had that first encounter in the Hospital wing after the war when the potion he designed, which unfortunately had not been among the group of samples in the phials that had broken over them when they had collided just a few minutes ago, which only goes to show you that his luck might change but never enough to his liking or to his greatest advantage since it would have been helpful to have that potion, or one of a similar nature in the tray that had broken so he could declare they should be quarantined alone in his chambers until he could brew another batch of antidote having since run out of the last batch and he and Hermione might be considered a threat to anyone else considering the nature of the Moldy Voldy Love Potion but could comfort each other until either the potion wore off, which would be never, or the new batch of antidote was ready and wasn’t it most unfortunate that the antidote took twenty seven days to brew and they would have to be locked in his chambers, alone together the whole time and left to fend for themselves though grope for themselves might be more accurate if the movement of her hand on his bum at the moment was any indication, but then fate was never that kind to him and even though he could barely remember the potions he was carrying – something for the hospital wing, he thought, though her tongue and warm wiggling body was making it hard for him to focus on the topic at hand even though he would have to collect his thoughts and either move them to a much more discrete location since snogging a student, even one soon to be his ex-student with just a week to go and NEWT’s out of the way, was usually frowned upon, well frowned was probably not the right word since he hadn’t read the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’s Official Rules of Conduct, Disciplinary Actions, and Ministry Procedures handbook since he had started teaching over twenty years ago, but he was pretty sure that the handbook did not contain a section titled “How to discreetly snog your soon to be ex-student in the hallway outside your classroom” and if it did, he didn’t remember seeing it, but then his mind was much more focused on staying alive and spying in those days so there could have been a chapter with that heading that slipped by without his knowledge but he really didn’t think so, thus forcing him, once again, to consider what to do with a class waiting on the other side of the door, and how long would that group would sit and wait for him to return even though he had told them to copy the information on the board and start on their final potions since it was a seventh year advanced class and shouldn’t need constant overseeing even if Potter and Weasley – really, he had to laugh every time he thought of the time he had caught the two dunderheads calling themselves the Dynamic Duo while trying to chat up two fifth year Hufflepuffs and didn’t they feel embarrassed when the two turned them down, and since it was these two dunderheads that were members of the that class and therefore prone to rule breaking even if the last third of their group was not with them at the moment but was actually the young woman now trying to remove his outer garment without thought for their present location and which once again brought him back to the two questions at hand, or was it …, no it was two questions – what was in the phials that had broken, and really he had not even stopped to think, not that Hermione she would allow him to stop, she would never be Miss Granger again, not that he would like to go backward instead of forward, but the current location of her left hand left little room for doubt that they should be on anything but a first name basis, if not maybe picking out china patterns too, at this point since she had some how managed to get her hand under his cloak and was pulling his tucked shirt out of his trousers while attacking the buttons on his trousers without thought for his bare skin, or her bare skin for that matter, coming in contact with the spilled potions that might have an adverse reaction since they had never been intended to be mixed together in the first place which is why he dearly wished he could clear his mind long enough to try and recall what it was he had been carrying to the Hospital wing in the first place and though he supposed he really should ask her, if he ever got the chance since she seemed to have vacuum sealed her lips to his, not that he was complaining since she seemed more than willing, even happy, to be in his arms and be exchanging copious amounts of saliva with him while pressing her luscious body firmly against his forestalling the question of whether or not, since he knew her to be an over achieving, know-it-all, she too might have been carrying anything on her person – maybe he could say he was doing a body search all this time and was working his way from her mouth down in an effort to determine if she had any substances, concealed or otherwise, that could have been dangerous when mixed with the substances in the phials he was carrying, or maybe she had an idea on the other question that kept over shadowing the first, namely how could they move from their present location on the floor to his chambers, and thus his bed, or maybe his hot tub, without arousing too much suspicion especially if he didn’t go in and dismiss the class.

“Problems, Severus?” Albus inquired as he watched his Potions master and Miss Granger getting to know one another better.


Which had to rate as one of the more stupid questions that had ever been asked.

“No problem, no, no problem at all, Headmaster,” he barely managed to gasp out in response to the query, even as his darling Hermione – could there be any doubt that she was now his at last! - continued her delightful and enthusiastic assault on his trembling and grateful person, which was a fairly stupid thing to say bearing in mind it was blindingly obvious that there was indeed a problem of immense proportions, but which nonetheless did not rank very high on the long, almost infinite, list of Most Egregiously and Heinously Problematic Problems he had ever faced in his long and difficult life (and which sometimes seemed to be full of nothing but problems and very scarce on Solutions) – which list had included such wondrous delights as convincing more than usually irascible (and that was saying something) and newly risen from the dead Dark Lords that you were completely and utterly loyal to them (unlike certain others you could mention: cough Karkaroff cough, though he had at least had the satisfaction of seeing him come to a very sticky end) despite the fact you had been ignoring the summons of the Dark Mark glowing in your left arm assiduously for several miserable months in the earnest but ostrich-like hope that it would all go away if you did and if it did then you could have your life back from the durance vile that consisted of teaching dunderheads how to mangle herbs and animal intestines in strange and unusual shapes, or that whilst you had been threatening the then carrier and host of the Dark Lord with all the types of physical harm that you could think of (and that was an impressive and, dare he say, imaginative list) it was merely because you had a irrational fear of people wearing purple turbans, and then having to fall back on the old faithful excuse of Imperio, as used by Death Eaters to get out of trouble from time immemorial, which had very little credibility when the person you were claiming to have subjected you to Imperio was the Headmaster (who may have been eminently capable of applying the Unforgiveable in question but was well known for being too lily-livered to use such methods, which he considered to be beneath him, and preferring the application of Sherbert Lemons until the victim in question cracked) but a lot more credible when you suggested it was Professor Filius Flitwick who, as an exceedingly short arse with a hint of goblin blood, was very clearly suffering from short man’s disease and looking to become a Dark Lord of his own and take over the Wizarding World – but did at least have the benefit of giving him a welcome opportunity to come up with a suitable response, because the difficulty of explaining to the Headmaster precisely why he was snogging – and being snogged in his turn – by the Head Girl with the same thoroughness and attention to detail that she normally brought to her homework, did rank a little higher than the slight inconvenience he had had in explaining away the suspicious smell of intoxicants that had been coming from his rooms last week, and which had only been excused by dumping Sybill Trelawney in it and claiming that they had been producing a potion that allowed her to see visions – which was very largely true, if you thought that seeing tap dancing purple dinosaurs with pink stripes counted as a vision rather than the more usual war and death and famine, though he knew which he would prefer to see– although both predicaments could result in the loss of his job and being turfed out of Hogwarts with no reference and barely a month’s back pay, which was not a prospect that filled him with any joy despite the fact that he hated the place and almost everyone who worked there; so, with this in mind, he did not make the hot retort that trembled on his lips along the lines of it being blindingly obvious that what he was up to was hardly covered in the Hogwarts Teachers Guide to Good Behaviour but bloody worth it all the same, and instead racked his brains for a suitable response that would allow him to keep his job and yet be allowed to continue in his present activities whilst securing someone to cover for his classes – and if that person could happen to drop casually into the midst of the lesson the bombshell that Miss Granger was currently absconding from her potions classes in his company and that they were sequestered together in absolute privacy he would be rather grateful bearing in mind that his original plan had been to combine the passionate seduction of the inimitable Miss Granger with the irritation of the boy who had done nothing but climb up his nose (and what a large and imposing nose it was) since the very second he had passed the hallowed portals of this educational edifice – and said, “No problem at all, Headmaster, because, as you can see I have matters well in hand: I am afraid that there has been a spillage of a combination of potions that have reacted together in an unusual and unpredictable way to create the situation that you see before you, and I am also afraid that there is no alternative other than to allow them to run their course as I really do not have the time to prepare an antidote, even if it were possible to determine the precise combination that has resulted in this situation, as it would take several years to run through all the possible combinations that could lead to a cure, though I do agree that it would be better if that running – if you will pardon the euphemism – were to take place in the privacy of my quarters over the course of the next few hours – or even days – so that the Head Girl’s sanity and school discipline could be preserved, even though such preservation will require me to sacrifice my dignity and person for the greater good of Hogwarts, which sacrifice I am perfectly prepared to make in the hope that I will be rewarded in heaven – because let us face it, Headmaster, despite your assurances to the contrary, my previous sacrifices for the greater good of the Wizarding World have barely seen any reward at all whether in the form of Orders of Merlin of any class, or an increase in my salary, or any improvement in the attitude of certain sulky teenagers who you persist in favouring despite their poor behaviour, which is particularly unfair in the light of the fact that I risked my life, and my sanity by spending hours in the company of such desperadoes as Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, who no one could deny were both dangerous and erratic - and which may require an exertion of superhuman powers, possibly coupled with the taking of several dangerous and exotic potions designed to enhance my otherwise adequate stamina, but which will nonetheless leave me exhausted and my vital forces depleted for hours, no days, to come so that I will be unable to fulfil my usual pedagogical duties in the way that you, and I, would wish.”

“In fact,” he added, “I think I ought to get a payrise for being forced into such a position.”


“I see; and how do you feel about this … situation, Miss Granger?” Albus’s eyes twinkled dangerously as he watched his Potions master and Head Girl respond to stimuli that were seemingly beyond their control, if Severus’s explanation were to be believed.

“Well, Headmaster,” Hermione said while pulling back but not necessarily releasing her hold the delectable man currently in her arms, and tried to remember what the question was she was supposed to answer since she had been so focused on the task of reaching Professor Snape’s bare skin - no he was Severus and not Professor Snape any more if the previous position of his left hand and subsequent grope, through pleasant and all too brief as said grope may have been, was to be considered, (so Severus it was) thus interrupting her self assigned challenge of reaching Severus’s bare skin – a Herculean task at its finest since the man insisted on hiding himself behind layer, after layer, after layer, after layer of black cloth, ad infinitum (though really he was not entirely draped in black as she mentally filed away the fact that the white shirt she had been in the process of pulling out of his wool trousers, black of course, when she had been so rudely interrupted, felt more like silk – could he be a closet hedonist? – then linen, which is what she thought when she looked at the material in the first place), rather than admit that she had only been listening to the Headmaster and Severus’s conversation with half a brain, which was really more than most of the students in this school had or even attempted to use since she was normally accosted in the quiet of the Gryffindor common room with such idiotic questions concerning any and all subjects from first year charms right on through to NEWT level potions on a regular bases leading her to believe they should offer a course in how to study with a follow up lecture titled, “The Library is Your Friend – Use It!” which would probably take more than half the student body by surprise since they thought she had exclusive rights to the books housed there though, when you thought about it, could almost have been true since she seemed to be the only student that regular used the library for its intended purpose of reading and studying as opposed to the usual purpose of overtly hormonal teenagers looking for a place to snog in between the stacks, thus bringing her back to the question at hand that the Headmaster had asked and that she would have been only too happy to answer if she could remember what said question was and maybe, just maybe, stop that infernal twinkling the man did when he seemed to know what was going on despite asking questions aimed at indicating that he didn’t, making her wonder - did he hope to trip up the other person by blinding them so that all they could think of was the spots flashing before their eyes and thus let the truth slip out, however innocuous or offensive the truth maybe, because lets face it, the truth – even at the basest level – never sounds as good as a lie, something Harry and Ron have always been quick to point out when engaged in various borderline activities that she was obligated, as Head Girl, to report but usually tended to let slide since she thought everyone, including, the Headmaster and Severus (yep, the way that oh so talented tongue of his had caressed her tonsils definitely warranted the use of his first name from now on) to name just a few, usually expected more of Harry since he was the “Chosen one”, and wasn’t that a crock when it could just have easily been Neville or someone else since it was Trelawney who fore saw the original prophecy and we all know where her “spirit” guides originate from on an almost daily basis, thus begging the question – If the Headmaster was willing to over look a little daily indulgence of one staff member, wouldn’t a staff member, who was also a member in good standing of the Order of Phoenix, and his most trusted spy entitled to a little stress relief in the course of his daily life, and if she should be the one that was willing to sacrifice herself for the students, and the Order, and the Wizarding world at large, as the source of that relief, never mind what she could get out of it if the hand that had been massaging her bum had been any indication, and even though Severus had mumbled something about the phials that had broken over them, implying that this was just a chemical reaction to the accidental combining of several potions as opposed to actual feelings, ‘cause, let’s face it, she had been fantasising about doing just this sort of thing since the beginning of the school year as she watched his hands while working on a potion – imagining she was the ingredient he was cleaning and further fantasising she could feel the cloth he used to wipe the surface of the tangleberry root was actually being dragged back and forth across her own sensitive skin instead as he swirled the fabric in smaller circles before - uhm, damn it was getting hot in here, but, uh, well the point being, that these feeling had been there for a while as she considered not only his hands, but that voice, which had been the source of her erotic dreams since long before this school year forcing the opinion that this feeling was not something suddenly manufactured as a result of a potion, or several of them if the dozen or more empty spots in the rack that was lying half broken to the side was any indication, but the result of long hidden and deeply suppressed feelings and desires for this dark, misunderstood man that seemed to enjoy tormenting students but was instead tormenting her in the most delightful way possible, and she would gladly tell the Headmaster anything he wanted to hear if she and her “tormentor” (mustn’t giggle or it would ruin the entire illusion that she was not a particularly willing participant in this little game of tongue tag) should probably be allowed to continue this activity somewhere secluded until a suitable antidote could be found or, if worse came to worse, the combined results of the potions were allowed to wear off and really, who knew how long that would take since the properties of certain ingredients, when combined, usually extend the potency or in laymen’s terms, would lengthen the time the potions stayed active, and considering NEWTs were done and she had already completed her assignments for the entire year back in January, there wasn’t anything that she would miss – and had everything to gain if his skill and dear god, the sheer size of the hard bulge poking into her side was any indication – while being sequestered with Severus, providing someone knowledgeable since she didn’t think he would allow just anyone to take over his classes even if it was to further explore what delights awaited them out of the prying eyes of the Headmaster and school at large in a location more conducive to getting naked since that was her original goal in attempting to divest Severus of his trousers when they were so rudely interrupted by the Headmaster asking them if something was wrong and if she agreed with Severus’ assessment of the current situation thus bringing her back to the maddingly twinkling man waiting for the remainder of her answer and hopefully the good sense to let them see this through if she agreed with the current assessment, so she continued, “since it would be almost impossible to tell what effects the combined ingredients will have and for what length of time; it might be prudent, as a safety measure, that we remain together and remove ourselves to the Professor’s private lab, in case we need to brew a potion to counter act any further side effects.”

“That being the case, I suggest you to go now, before the other students are exposed to this ‘accident’. I will clean up here and find a replacement to teach your classes.” Albus smiled as he watched his Potions master, the tail of his white shirt flapping gently, as he tightened his grip on Hermione’s arm, virtually dragging her behind him as he headed for the large tapestry at the end of the hall where his private quarters were located.

“That was quick thinking,” Severus said admiringly. “Though one has to admit that Dumbledore’s grasp of ethics is almost as loose as that of Lucius, and shows that same predilection for passing off self-interest as some sort of moral principle, that is at best exasperating and at worse the sort of thing that leads to what Muggles might call sin, if they were not pre-occupied with such trivialities as sexual congress being confined to persons of the opposite gender bound together by some sort of ceremony, as opposed to being kind and generous and not seeking to rule the world on the basis of bigoted precepts that lead to oppression, murder, and unfortunate tattoos, not to mention the wear and tear on your knees with all the hem kissing – and I suppose we should be grateful that Dumbledore at least stops at merely hem kissing, and that Bellatrix is so jealous of her position of Death Eater’s moll that she would only surrender the privilege of kissing more than the Dark Lord’s hem at wandpoint and over her cold, dead body – and it is with such little consolations that I have to be satisfied, or have had to be satisfied until now, when you, glorious you, fell into my lap, and dare I say it, onto and into something more lasting, and make me think that at the end of all this turmoil and trouble there may be some suitable award that will make this all worthwhile; perhaps this is why Dumbledore has not seen fit to intervene to save your virtue from my depredations, and release you into my tender care.”

“Severus,” said Hermione. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Another excellent point...,” Severus began, but Hermione kissed him again, and soon there was nothing but silence.