What The Future Holds

Chapter 3 - A Frank Discussion

By Ehann

The silence in the room thickened until it was nearly palpable. Severus Snape leaned back in his chair and regarded Miss Granger silently. She was fidgeting in her seat, unable to keep still. One week had passed since The Incident, as he referred to it mentally. Albus had convinced him to give her a week to collect her thoughts. Unfortunately for her, that extra time didn’t seem to be doing her any good.

Usually she kept her eyes fixed on him for the entire lecture, unless she was furiously taking notes. But today she was just sitting, and fidgeting. Not taking notes by hand—apparently she’d Charmed her quill into transcribing for her. Clever. Still, it was strange behaviour for her. She didn’t even seem to be talking to her cohorts, Potter and Weasley. Those two were huddled together behind Granger and Longbottom.

What the devil had happened to rattle her so? He found the answer annoyingly elusive. Her eyes darted up then, and their gazes met with an inaudible click that was unmistakable. She appeared startled, and did something quite odd indeed. Her tongue stole out and licked her lips. He watched her take a sharp breath in, and couldn’t help but notice the rise of her chest. Her brown gaze never faltered from his, and he realized…Gah!

That certainly couldn’t be what he thought it was. For he had never seen that look directed at himself, and…and…well, he was mistaken. That was that. Hermione Granger was not sitting in his class, and looking at him like she wanted to devour him whole.

Certainly not.

There, see? She just flushed a deep brick color, and looked away. Snape let out his own long breath, which he hadn’t even known he was holding. His students stared at him expectantly, and he realized that he’d simply trailed off. Furious with himself, he recovered his place and continued lecturing on the subject of Veritaserum.

Miss Granger, he noted, had started scribbling madly on her parchment. After he had finished writing down the ingredients and instructing them to copy them down precisely as written, he said, “The last thing I need, people, is to have another debacle like last week. Rest assured I have no wish to carry anyone else to the infirmary. Miss Granger, a moment of your time.” His words were silky soft.

Snape watched Granger exchange a look with the hapless Longbottom. She carefully pushed her stool back and came up to his desk. “Yes, Sir?” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

He kept his voice low, hardly more than a whisper. “At the Headmaster’s wishes, you and I have an appointment tonight, Miss Granger. You will meet me for a complete interview about the events you witnessed last week.”

She seemed relieved. “Oh, so you want to know how I botched the potion. All –”

“For an intelligent girl, you can be distressingly obtuse, Miss Granger.” He said this in a hiss, and noted with satisfaction that she looked appropriately worried. “You will be here, in this room, directly after Supper. Have I made myself clear?” He must have, he decided, because she looked as if she wanted to spit nails.

She nodded curtly, and asked, “May I return to my seat, Professor?”

He jerked his head—the equivalent of a nod, and she took her place. There was something going on with that girl, he knew. Something that she was hiding from him. Therefore, he was going to do his damndest to find out exactly what that something was. Or die trying.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione was not quite as suicidal as she had been last week, after returning from her little jaunt to the future. She still had her self-murderous moments, though, especially during Potions, when she had to sit there for a double period and know that she was going to be madly in love with him in a few years. Or, even more disturbing, he was going to be madly in love with her in a few years.

That’s not even to mention, she decided, the fact that I know his kisses will turn my legs to rubber, and make all my insides melt. I know that when he sucks on my neck, that every nerve ending in my body will scream for attention and I’ll want him so bad, I could die for it.

So she had spent the last week, desperately avoiding him, even going so far as to decline any late night jaunts under cover of the invisibility cloak with Harry and Ron. She just knew that Snape was on the lookout for her. If she stepped out of line, he would know, and give her the detention he seemed to be itching for.

And that, would be bad, she thought. Very bad indeed. For even despite the seven days that had flown by, every time she looked at him, she heard his voice in her head— 

“Shall I stop or do I continue?”

Then her insides would melt, all over again, setting off a flood of moisture between her legs, distracting her for hours. Last night she had even gone so far as to try and tackle the problem herself. She had accomplished her goal, after a time, and after a fashion, but…Oh, just face it. It’s not the same when you have to do all the work yourself.

She glared up at the High table, where the object of her ire was calmly eating, and ignoring the chatter between McGonagall and Sprout. As if listening to her thoughts, his head lifted and he stared directly at her. He smiled slightly, which should have been scary, except it reminded her how he had smiled at the other Hermione. She wondered if he knew— that right this very second—she was considering shagging him, and how much trouble she’d get in, if they did it while she was still a student.

This thought had barely surfaced, when Dumbledore glanced her way. She dropped her eyes immediately. The Headmaster was too intuitive by half. She stared into her asparagus for what she thought was a sufficient length of time, before stealing a glance up to the staff again. Hermione sighed in relief. Dumbledore was chatting with Professor Sprout, over the empty seat between them. Empty, she realized, because Snape wasn’t in it.

A hand clapped down on her shoulder, and she jumped, barely repressing a scream of fright. “Miss Granger,” came the deceptively soft voice, “I believe you and I have an appointment.”

With apologetic looks to her friends, whom she had barely spoken to since this Whole Thing happened, she pushed her chair back and followed Snape from the Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~

He had settled on the edge his desk in the Potions classroom. Gesturing vaguely at the front row seats, he indicated that Hermione should sit. She did so, keeping her eyes carefully on her clasped hands the entire time.

“Miss Granger. Let us be honest about the purpose of this interview. You currently possess information about the future, information that could prove vitally important in the coming war.” He paused, fixing her with a scowl. “You do realize that the fight will be intensifying quite soon, do you not? That your friends, your families, all you hold dear—could be lost.”

She swallowed. “Yes, Sir, I realize that.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his. “But I swear, what I saw…wouldn’t possibly be important to anyone other than me.” She picked at her thumbnail. “I’d hate to have you waste your time, professor.”

“Indeed.” His black eyes hooded, he continued, “Somehow, I doubt your altruism is anything other than self preservation, at the moment. You will have my word, of course, that I will accord what you reveal to me, the utmost discretion.”

Hermione giggled helplessly. “I’m sure you would Professor.”

“I fail to see the source of your amusement. Feel free to share,” he said, waving his hand. “I could do with a good joke.” His dour face left little doubt this was irony.

She closed her eyes for a moment, sighing. “You don’t understand,” she said wearily. “Even if I did tell you…” She looked at him, and shook her head. “You’d just think I was lying. You wouldn’t believe me. Then, not only would I have about a months worth of detention, I’d die of humiliation.”

“That bad, is it?”

He looked…almost sympathetic. His mouth had softened from its usual hard line, and she clearly saw that when he relaxed a little and wiped the constant sneer from his face, he really was almost handsome. “Not that it’s bad,” she stressed. “You….Trust me. There is no way you would ever believe me.” I can hardly believe it myself. God.

“Miss Granger, you forget whom you are talking to, I believe.”

“What?”

He looked ceilingward. “Attempt for once, to clear the fluff from your tiny brain. Have you never heard of Veritaserum? As I recall, you were present in class for the lesson.” From the pocket of his black robes he produced a tiny glass vial, filled with clear yellow liquid. “Three drops, Miss Granger, and I shall believe every word you utter.”

He rolled the vial between his thumb and fingers, and Hermione fought to keep her expression neutral. “That’s a very generous offer, Sir, but again, I’d really hate for you –”

“Yes, yes, hate to waste my time.” He slid off the desk, landing lightly for such a tall man. “However, I must insist, Miss Granger. My wasted time and resources are no longer your concern.” From his other pocket, he drew his wand, and with a wave, conjured a single glass of water. “Why are you shaking you head? Had you paid attention this morning, you would realize it is perfectly safe.” He said acerbically.

But Hermione was appalled. “I’m not drinking that by myself. If I’m going to be forced to tell my secrets, you should do me the same courtesy.” This was mere bravado, on here part…he would never do it. But it might buy her some time. Except…slight miscalculation. He looked like his head might explode, she thought in wonder. The muscle in his jaw jumped and his mouth was an angry slash. His eyes blazed at her, never moving from her face. He seemed to be testing her resolve. Inwardly she cringed, but outwardly she remained unflustered, returning his look calmly.

Finally, he said, “I accept your terms.” While her eyes widened, he conjured another glass. Hermione watched him carefully add the Veritaserum to both glasses, then hold one out for her. She took it, and sniffed. It smelled faintly of lemon, but that was all. Watching to make sure he was drinking, too, she tilted her head back and drank it down. Wiping her mouth, she realized that she didn’t feel any different. Perhaps, just a little tingling in her hands and feet.

Oh, that’s not the only place that’s tingling, her traitorous mind whispered.

Snape pulled a crisp white handkerchief from within his robes, and Hermione found herself wondering how ever he was able to maintain such particular hygiene and still appear the way he did. “Do tell me, Miss Granger, what the future holds for us.” And, there was, she realized, not a trace of irony in his words.

Her mouth opened, and she cringed a little. Now she felt the effects of the truth serum. Words spilled from her. “I saw through my own eyes. Me—five years from now. You were there with me.”

Snape started. “Continue,” he said, glaring at her.

“In five years time, if what I saw comes to pass, you and I will be lovers.” It was probably possible to edit, she thought in frustration, but it definitely required more practice.

To this information, Snape said nothing. He must know she was telling the truth. There was no choice but to do so. As he searched for words, Hermione spoke. “Are you happy now that you’ve humiliated me?”

Snape looked annoyed. “It was never my intention to humiliate you, you…” Foolish girl, he was trying to say. The words refused to come. The serum, blast it.

“Really,” she said caustically. “I suppose the very idea of being with me makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“Sick is hardly the word I would choose, Miss Granger,” he said carefully.

“Oh!” She fumed. “I’ve already slept with you, the least you can do is call me by my first name. Which is Hermione, if you’ve forgotten.”

It had to be the truth, he reminded himself. She’d slept with him? Remarkable. “How was it?” he asked blandly, attempting wry humor.

But she remained magically bound to tell the truth. She had to answer. “Are you pretending you don’t know your own skills, Professor?” Her tone was scathing, indeed. “It was the most intense experience of my life. Felt like my bones were melting and my body turned to liquid, and my God, I just wished that it would never end…” She clapped a hand over her mouth, appalled.

Instantly, Snape was rock hard. Having this attractive girl, stand here, and tell him how he had pleasured her…It was a powerful aphrodisiac. He struggled to keep this from showing on his face—nigh impossible to be sure, but what else was he to do? Hermione appeared dangerously close to tears. As a matter of fact, he saw, tears already lined her lower lids, threatening to fall. Blotches sprang up on her cheeks and around her mouth, giving her a vulnerable look. Against his better judgment, he said, “Are you…all right?”

“Do I look all right?” She snapped.

Snape realized the words hovering on his tongue a millisecond before he spoke them. Frantically, he rummaged through his pocket for the nullification potion. Desperately trying to avoid an untold humiliation he told her quietly, “Your eyes are red, your hair is a mess, and there are splotches on your face.” His fingers closed at last on the antidote and he withdrew the vial. Just as he thought that he was in the clear—cork yanked out, vial raised to his mouth—he heard himself say, “And you look exquisite.”

The vial slipped from his fingers, and shattered on the floor, the breaking glass sounding unreal to his ears. Still under the influence of Veritaserum, he raked his left hand through his hair and said the first thing that came to mind. “Oh, bugger.”

Chapter 4 >>