Celebration

Chapter 1

By Shiv

Hermione was a little drunk, and she was really rather giving her brain the  evening off. If she hadn’t been a little drunk she would never have agreed to play spin the bottle. And now she was stuck playing spin the bottle because she  didn’t think she would be able to get up off the floor. For once though, she was  determined to enjoy herself. Voldemort was dead, and the survivors were now celebrating at Grimmauld Place. Hermione didn’t feel too guilty about her bad  behaviour, as even Minerva was a little tipsy and technically she stopped being a Hogwarts student at midnight.

She had kissed Ron, Harry and Dean Thomas so far. Ron had tried to stick his tongue down her throat, which hadn’t been very pleasant. Now it was her turn again. She just hoped the bottle didn’t stop on Ron.

Unfortunately it stopped precisely half way between Ron and Harry.

“It’s closer to me than Harry,” said Ron, reaching across the circle to  Hermione.

“Actually,” said Lavender, “It’s pointing towards Professor Snape. Go on, I dare you!” Her friends all began to egg her on, apart from Draco who commented that she wouldn’t have the nerve.

“All right then, I will.” Hermione got to her feet and, very carefully, walked over to where Professor Snape was standing talking to Minerva and tugged at his  sleeve.

“What do you want, Miss Granger?” he snapped.

“I want to kiss you,” she said, hoping she wasn’t slurring too much.

She had the immense pleasure of rendering Snape speechless.

Minerva took in the scene behind her with one glance, and smiled broadly. “Now,  now, Severus. Be a good sport and kiss Miss Granger. The bottle landed on you fair and square.”

Snape still hadn’t found the power of speech when Draco called out, “and no  tongues, Professor.”

Hermione was puzzled. She turned round to peer at her friends. “No, that’s not right, because Ron used tongues.” She turned back to face Snape. “Tongues ARE allowed,” she said firmly.

She didn’t like the gleam in Snape’s eyes, but it was too late to back out now.  “Well, in that case,” he murmured, and put his hands on her shoulders to pull  her closer to him. Her friends were all sniggering in the background as he bent  his head to kiss her.

Hermione could feel the warmth of him, and the surprising strength in his  fingers which grasped her. His lips touched hers gently, retreated slightly, and  then settled against her mouth. For a moment she felt nothing more than the mechanics of the kiss. Then she was surprised to find her nerves thrumming with some strong emotion. By rights she should be feeling disgust, as she had done  when Ron had assaulted her mouth. She couldn’t identify the sensation, it was  nothing she had felt before, and being the curious girl that she was she decided  to collect more data.

She moved subtly closer to the Professor, and slightly opened her mouth beneath  his. His hand shifted from her shoulder, to tangle with her hair at the base of  her neck. His long fingers moved in delicate circles on her neck, which caused shivers to run down her spine.

He persisted in a simple kiss. She had the vague idea that tongues were not only allowed but compulsory – so if he wasn’t going to take the hint, she would have  to take matters into her own hands. His mouth opened beneath her tentative  probing, and she traced the outline of his lips before teasing the roof of his mouth.

She moved closer still and could feel something hard pressing into her. It was his … she couldn’t think of the right word to describe it. It wasn’t a willy. Ron had a willy. Harry had a willy. They were boys. Professor Snape was very  obviously a man. He didn’t have a willy, he had a … a…. cock.

She gave a little whimper. Abruptly she was free.

“I apologise Miss Granger,” he said stiffly, turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

Hermione stood staring after him in shock. What was that all about?

She had to find out. Telling her friends she was off to get another drink – to wash the taste of Snape out of her mouth according to Ron – she followed the Professor into the next room.

He was standing in the middle of the room with his back to her and was staring at the fire. She rather thought his face would have the same expression it had  just before he deducted points or gave detention. The fire was probably quaking  in its grate.

“What are you apologising for?” she asked him.

He turned and looked at her with annoyance, not believing that she could be that stupid. “For the kiss, Miss Granger,” he said impatiently.

“Oh. That.”

“Yes. That.”

“Well you don’t have to worry, I thought it was a very nice kiss.”

“You did?….. I mean, that isn’t the point, I shouldn’t have kissed you at all.”

“But you didn’t kiss me, I kissed you,” she said very carefully. He didn’t seem  to be making any sense.

“Very well, I shouldn’t have allowed you to kiss me,” he snapped. “You are a student, and it was utterly inappropriate.”

“What time is it?”

“Half past midnight,” he said, getting increasingly bewildered.

“I stopped being your student at midnight. So, we have established that you  don’t have to apologise for your technique, you don’t have to apologise for  kissing me, and you don’t have to apologise for letting me kiss you. She paused. “Do you want to know what I think you should be apologising for?” As she spoke,  she drew ever closer to Severus until the backs of his knees hit an armchair. He looked wary, and she was amused by the thought that she had managed to worry him.

“What?”

“Stopping.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, astonished.

“Apology accepted. Don’t do it again.” Before he could explain that that wasn’t  what he meant at all Miss Granger, she had pushed him sharply. Off balance he fell backwards into the chair and Hermione followed him down. She stifled any  protests by kissing him, and any resistance was quickly overcome.

Celebration – Chapter two

There was an awkward moment whilst they sorted out a comfortable position in which to continue kissing without actually breaking lip contact. Hermione ended  up sitting in Severus lap, her legs over the arms of the chair, pulled tight against his body. Her head was supported by one hand tangled in her hair, and the other hand was stroking her hip.

Periodically he would raise his head and attempt to say something to Hermione. Whatever it was it couldn’t be as interesting as kissing her, so he never got much further than, “Miss Granger…” before she managed to cut him off. He really was so much nicer when he had his mouth too full of her tongue to speak or,  indeed, when she had her mouth full of his tongue. For once in her life Hermione thought talking was distinctly over-rated.

The constant interruptions were getting to be a little annoying though – just as she felt herself sinking into deep water she would find herself being dragged up  into the shallows. Perhaps if she let him finish whatever it was that he had to  say ….

“Miss Granger…” he mumbled against her lips.

She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Hermione.”

“Wh…what?” he stammered, his higher brain function hindered by her warm breath tickling his ear.

“Hermione. My name is Hermione. Under the present circumstances a little informality is permissible, don’t you think.”

For a second his mind was blank. She was sucking on his ear lobe, and one hand had burrowed into his robes and was resting on his bare chest. What was the  question again? Never mind, he had a question of his own.

“Hermione, how much have you had to drink?”

She stopped doing that marvellous thing she was doing to his ear with her  tongue. “Why?”

“Because I think you might have had too much to drink, and I wouldn’t want you to do something you might regret in the morning.”

“I won’t regret it, I promise.”

“It’s just the drink talking,” he said sadly. “If you weren’t drunk, you would never kiss your git of a Potions Master.”

“It’s not just the drink. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to do  this?” she asked, punctuating her words with nipping kisses along his neck. His  head lolled back to give her better access.

“Ermm, no.” His concentration was fading, who the hell cared why she was doing what she was doing as long as she continued doing it.

“Since the beginning of my seventh year.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. I would sit in class and look at your long fingers and imagine them touching me, running all over my body.”

He whimpered. In an attempt to recover his dignity he went on gruffly, “Anything else?”

He almost wished he hadn’t asked as she seductively whispered a litany of  debauched acts to him. The last one caught his attention.

“Good god,” he said weakly, “that’s not physically possible.” He paused for a  moment. She seemed to have spent a lot of time thinking about this. He  appreciated her attention to detail before now, but, if anyone was going to find a way, it would be her. “Is it?” he asked plaintively.

She nodded. “Two words. Levitation charm.”

The fact that she had been thinking such lecherous thoughts in his potions class was a sop to his conscience. The fact that she had apparently sat down with the wizard’s Kama Sutra and worked out a way of putting even some of the more advanced positions into practice was more of an encouragement to give her  theories a rigorous and thorough practical examination. There was no way she  could be described as innocent if that is what she had been thinking about. Still he had to ask.

“You’re not a virgin are you?” he quavered. Please god, let the answer be no. If she was still a virgin he couldn’t let her first time be a drunken grope with  her ex-Professor. He had some morals.

“Of course not, don’t be silly!”

“Thank God,” he breathed. His hands started on the buttons of her blouse, and  then parted it to reveal her breasts. What on earth was she wearing beneath it?

She went back to nibbling along his neck, easing his collar open for better  access. He was certainly going to have marks there tomorrow. He didn’t mind, it would be some sort of souvenir of this wonderful evening.

“Hermione, do you have some vampire in you?” he smirked.

“Not yet,” she muttered. He looked puzzled, but there were more important things to worry about at this precise moment in time. How did these infernal muggle  contractions called bras actually work?

He had never been a patient man, and he just couldn’t be bothered waiting. He  scrabbled in his pocket, drew out his wand, and sent the offending article  flying through the air. Much better. Muggles had gone up in his estimation –  they managed to do that without magic.

“So that was a wand in your pocket,” she said in a disappointed tone.

“Yes, but I’ve got a much bigger one hidden elsewhere. Why don’t you look for  it?” It’s a good job she’s drunk, he thought, I’d never get away with a line  that if she was sober. Fortunately, although her critical faculties were dulled, she still managed to find her way to his fly. A couple of deft twists and his  buttons were open, and her hand was finding its way to a place where it was definitely welcome.

“You’re right, it is much bigger”, she smirked.

He smirked back and bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth.

Suddenly they could hear something that wiped the smile of both their faces -  voices coming towards them. She was sitting on his lap, wearing no shirt or bra  and playing find the wand in his trousers. He couldn’t think of an innocent explanation for what they were doing, because there was no innocent explanation  for what they were doing.

Unless he could think of something quickly, in two minutes or less they would be caught red handed.


Celebration – Chapter three

They looked at each other in horror. “That’s Harry’s voice,” she said.

Then, “Merlin, and with Albus as well,” he added.

He was still flailing for a solution when she hissed, “Apparate.” Of course. Brilliant. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Probably because she had one hand wrapped round his cock, and her naked breasts thrust into his face. It was very  distracting.

“Your place or mine,” he smirked. He concentrated, and then with a sharp popping noise they were gone.

They missed his bed by a good foot and landed in a heap on the floor, Hermione at the bottom of the pile. She rubbed ruefully at her rear end. “Ouch”, she said, “that hurt.”

“Are you alright,” he asked anxiously.

“I think I will have a lovely bruise there tomorrow.”

“Shall I kiss it better,” he said huskily, pressing her down on the floor. Who needed a bed anyway? The floor seemed rather inviting at the moment.

“Yes, please,” she breathed.

“I think I ought to check the rest of you over in case you have other injuries as well,” he said, leering at her chest.

“I don’t think they were damaged in the fall, Severus.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.” His voice was muffled, as he buried his face between her breasts and began to worry at them like a terrier with a rat.

And that was the last thing either of them said, apart from an urgent  instruction from Hermione to get his dam clothes off, and then nothing but yes, yes, yes, yes, oh GODS YES!




Severus woke first. He eyed Hermione with some trepidation. Their clothes were scattered around them where they had been thrown the night before, and they were  still on the floor. One of them, and he didn’t think it was him, had had the  foresight to pull the bedspread off the bed and cover them with it.

What on earth was she going to say?

He knew what he was going to say – sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, here’s a  contraceptive potion, sorry, sorry, sorry, please don’t go to Dumbledore, sorry,  sorry.

She snuggled closer into him. He was very aware of his morning erection pressing into her thigh. It really couldn’t get any worse. Any minute now she was going  to wake up and run screaming out of the room.

Hermione opened her eyes, and looked up at him. She smiled. “Good morning.” She  looked like the cat who had got the cream, or possibly the entire cream factory. She started placing delicate butterfly kisses on his chest.

“I take it you don’t have any regrets then?”

“Oh, no. It was marvellous.”

He was horrified to hear himself ask, “Did you mean what you said last night?”

“Which particular bit?”

“About having fantasises about me in Potions class.”

“Ah,” she said. “No.”

He looked disappointed. “So you lied to get me into bed.” He was aware he  sounded like a wronged virgin, and that was usually the girl’s role, but he couldn’t help himself.

“In the first place I had to keep my concentration in case that bastard Malfoy tried to tamper with my potions, and in the second place I wouldn’t want to take  the risk of you deciding to do a bit of Legilimency on the sly. I used to do my  fantasising in History of Magic. Binns was never the wiser. Everyone thought I was dutifully taking notes, when in fact I was writing down all the things I wanted to do to you if I ever got half the chance.”

He felt immeasurably better. She had had fantasies about him. She had had a  crush on him. Oh dear, he had a horrible suspicion that he knew what those  fantasies were. Every year some seventh year would turn up in his dungeons and want spanking. She would want to be bent over the classroom desk and punished  for being a naughty girl. It was all so dreary, hadn’t these girls got any  imagination? A couple of evenings spent with Filch quickly cured them.

“These fantasies, they wouldn’t include detention would they?”

“Not really, no. I don’t think I am that sort of girl. I don’t fancy shagging on the classroom table. It’s uncomfortable, and you’d probably get splinters, which  must be a bit off-putting.”

“Yes,” he agreed. Quickly adding, “I imagine you’re right.”

“I don’t think I’m very submissive. I’m a bit bossy.”

“I’d noticed. You were very assertive last night.”

“It isn’t a problem, is it?” Before he could answer, she pushed him onto his back, and rolled over on top of him. Her lips close to his, she added, “Because I think I’m going to do it again.”

He didn’t raise any objections. He couldn’t. Hermione had found the perfect  technique for dealing with Severus – if it looked like he was going to argue,  place tongue in mouth and stir for three minutes anti-clockwise. Add hand to  genitals at will. Result – putty in your hands.



As they lay there in the afterglow, he asked, tentatively, “Do you think next  time we might make it as far as the bed? I’m not getting any younger, and all  this is murder on my back.”

She pretended to think about it for a while. “I suppose so. I think bed is somewhere on the list. Bed. Bath. Shower….”

“Much as I’d like to continue this conversation, unless getting caught by  Dumbledore is high on your list, I think you’d better go back to your own room.”

“I don’t mind if he does know.”

A little fear he had barely been aware of was soothed by that. She didn’t want to keep their liaison…..their relationship….their whatever it was a secret.

She sat up and began searching for her clothes. “I think half of them are still  downstairs.” She wrapped the bedspread round her and carried her clothes to the door. She opened the door, then turned round to say her goodbyes properly. Behind her Severus could see the form of Professor Dumbledore. Catching sight of  his horrified expression, she turned round to see what the matter was.

“Good morning, Miss Granger. I suggest you meet me in the study later. It seems  we have a lot to discuss. Shall we say 11 am.” His tone was frosty. "Perhaps  Professor Snape would care to join us?"

Severus banged his head on the floor several times.

“Oops,” she said.

Oops indeed.


Chapter 4

Severus and Hermione stared at each other across the room in blank horror. She was the first to recover her voice. “Do you think he would believe us if I said I was collecting a hangover remedy?”

“Hardly,” he said exasperated. “Whatever happened to ‘who cares about Albus?’,”  he sneered in a high pitched voice.

“I don’t care, you’re the one who seems to be in a blue funk! Its just inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient? I could lose my job.”

The look she gave him was eloquent with exasperation and irritation, but it  softened almost immediately. He realised, with indignation, that she was letching after him. Good god, didn’t this girl think about anything other than  sex? He suddenly felt very naked, and clutched at a bed sheet to cover his  automatic response.

She smirked. That was definitely a smirk, he thought. She shouldn’t be allowed to do that, and certainly not at him. He was the smirker in this relationship.

“For heaven’s sake, Severus, it says very clearly in the regulations that a  teacher cannot behave in an improper manner with any student. It also states that someone ceases to be a student at midnight on graduation day. I didn’t kiss  you until after midnight therefore it was all perfectly legal and aboveboard.”

“Nonetheless, it’s not going to be fun dealing with Albus. He looked furious.”

“I suppose an obliviate is out of the question?”

“Probably,” he said wistfully.

“Well if the worst comes to the worst, we will have to fall back on blackmail, bribery and corruption.

“Slytherin tactics, Miss Granger?”

“Whatever it takes, Professor Snape.”

He scrambled to his feet, still keeping the sheet wrapped round him in an  attempt to maintain his dignity. He headed off towards the bathroom with Hermione on his heels. He raised an eyebrow at her in mute query.

“If you’re going to see the Headmaster I need to make sure you’ve cleaned behind your ears, don’t I?”

Severus wondered if they would ever make it into a bed.







Severus looked wryly at his plate, piled high with eggs, bacon, sausages, chips, chips and more chips. And something Hermione had called a fried slice. She had  been very insistent that he have a proper breakfast, and had ordered a full English breakfast for both of them from the house elves. The condemned man, or  in this case persons, ate a hearty breakfast.

She had specifically requested white bread with the texture of cotton wool, and  was busily engaged in constructing a culinary delicacy called a chip butty. She was explaining to him in great detail the various permutations of the butty,  which apparently depended on which part of the country you found yourself in. He  realised that he was smiling fondly at her, rather than snapping her head off for talking before he had finished his morning coffee.

She stopped talking, and looked at him, smiling a little shyly. “I’m sorry, I’m  talking too much…”

Their contented reverie was disturbed by Potter and Weasley bustling into the  room with rather more noise than was strictly necessary, and coming to stand  behind his chair. He was grateful for the opportunity to re-arrange his face into a more suitably forbidding expression.

Ron was nearly bouncing up and down in his excitement. “Look what we’ve found! Someone was having fun last night.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see  that Weasley was holding something white. He realised with shock that it was  Hermione’s bra, last seen sailing through the air to land on a candle sconce.

He looked at her, and she looked at him. They really weren’t doing a very good job of keeping this a secret. Perhaps he could take out an advert in the Daily Prophet. Professor Snape shagged Hermione Granger, although to be fair it should  probably be more along the line of Hermione Granger shagged Professor Snape. He  answered her silent question with a rueful shrug.

“Thanks Ron, I was wondering where that had got to.” She held out her hand for the offending garment.

“YOU!” they chorused together. You could almost hear their brains turning as they tried to work out who she had been with.

She stood up, dropped a quick kiss on Severus’s cheek and recovered the bra. “I’d better put that back in my room before the meeting with Albus.” As she headed off up the stairs there was a horrified silence as the penny dropped.

The two boys collapsed into chairs at the table. Shock kept them silent, mercifully, apart from ordering their breakfasts. It seemed they too had been treated to the thesis on the chip butty as they both began painstakingly  constructing one in the Granger approved manner.

He sipped his coffee, undisturbed by anything other than the sounds of mastication, for several minutes. He was expecting recriminations and reproaches, and was surprised by how well they were taking it.

Harry broke the silence first. “That’s ten galleons you owe me, Ron. I said  she’d do it.”

It was with great difficulty that Severus prevented himself from spraying his  coffee all over the table.

“I know. I’m very disappointed in you, Professor Snape. I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“You know how determined Hermione is,” said Harry. “After all, she managed to  get you to do your transfiguration homework on time.”

“True. True,” Ron sighed, digging around in his pocket for some money.

There was silence again.

“I don’t envy you, you know,” Ron said, addressing Snape for the first time  since they had sat down at the table. “Your life won’t be your own. It’ll be  have you done this, have you done that, morning, noon and night.”

“I have faced Malfoy and Voldemort. I hardly think a slip of a girl is going to  worry me.”

Ron drew his breath in sharply through his teeth. “Mate, I’d prefer to face  Voldemort than Hermione on the warpath. She’s SCARY.”

Harry interrupted before Ron could put his foot any further in his mouth. “So, what have you got to see Professor Dumbledore about?”

“He caught her leaving my room early this morning. He’s not pleased.” Severus  couldn’t understand the sudden urge to share things. He supposed felt oddly  grateful for their calm acceptance of what had gone on last night, and it looked  like he might need tips on how to handle Hermione in the future. They had seven years experience after all.

Ron winced. “I can imagine. So he’s going to read the riot act to you? Not good. I think we’d better get Professor McGonagall to pick up the pieces, don’t you Harry?”

“Hermione seems very confident that there won’t be any difficulties. Surely you  don’t think Albus will be too hard on her?”

The boys burst out laughing. “The question is whether Hermione is going to be  hard on Professor Dumbledore,” said Harry. “I think both of you might be in for  a bit of a surprise, now she’s no longer a student, and she doesn’t have to be  polite to him anymore.”

Ron wiped the last of his egg off the plate, and headed off. Harry lagged behind as Ron left the table, looking thoughtful. “It’s nice though.”

“What is?”

“Hermione. Ron doesn’t understand ‘cos he’s got his mum, and he takes it all for granted, but it’s nice to have someone, you know, look after you. I know she fusses about things, and she’s a bit bossy, but she cares. I never really had that until I met her. ” He paused, clearly looking for the right words. “It’s just, well, I think it would be nice if someone looked after her for a change.”

Severus just nodded.

Where the boys found her didactic tone annoying, he found all that certainty rather comforting. Nothing bad happened in Hermione’s world. He rather thought  he might like to live there. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing that  couldn’t be sorted out by just rolling up her sleeves and getting on with it.

He rather suspected that she could achieve anything she set her mind to.

She was quite simply magnificent.



Chapter 5

They met outside the study door at 10.58am promptly. Word seemed to have spread, as a crowd had gathered. Severus reflected that it was clearly unnecessary to take out the full page advert in the Daily Prophet as breaking the news to Ron  and Harry seemed to have had a similar effect.

Each member of the crowd was studiously ignoring each other, and finding matters of great interest in their books, their newspapers, or, where inspiration failed, their shoes. Fred and George were trying to run a book on the outcome,  but they couldn’t find anyone who was prepared to bet against Hermione.

Molly was the only one who could claim to have a legitimate reason to be there,  and even she was cleaning the breakfast table to within an inch of its life. He was surprised to see Molly wink at him. Rather than the lynching mob he had  expected, there appeared to be, if not support, at least acceptance that  Hermione was a grown woman who knew her own mind.

Severus suddenly felt a lot more cheerful about the forthcoming interview.

Albus was not impressed with the congregation cluttering the drawing room, but even the most pointed stares from him failed to have any effect. He ushered  Hermione and Severus into the room, and closed the door behind him.

Albus settled himself behind an imposing desk and gestured at them to be seated. The chairs were very carefully placed at opposite ends of the desk, with about three feet of clear space between them. Exchanging amused glances, Severus and Hermione deliberately moved the chairs closer together before sitting down.  Albus’s lips tightened.

“Well?” he said.

Severus desperately wanted to say that he was very well thank you but decided  not to add fuel to the fire.

Hermione had no such reservations. “Well, what?” she said crisply.

Albus was non-plussed for a moment, but battled back gamely. “You know very well what. I want an explanation of what you were doing in Professor Snape’s room  this morning.”

“I fail to see why that is any of your business,” she said. Severus had decided  that the prudent course of action was to allow Hermione to handle things, after all she didn’t have to work with Dumbledore next term, and she seemed to be doing a sterling job so far.

“Whilst you are a student at Hogwarts it is very much my business what you were  doing in a teacher’s rooms, having presumably spent the night.”

“Indeed, WHILST I was a student at Hogwarts that would be true. However, I would remind you that I ceased being in statu pupillari at midnight last night. Therefore you have no right to know what went on between Professor Snape and I.” Hermione was playing with a straight bat.

Severus thought he would treasure for the rest of his life expression that crossed Albus’s face. One part indigation to two parts fury and three parts  bewilderment. The most powerful wizard in England (now that Voldemort was dead)  was being very politely told to bugger off, and he wasn’t accustomed to such offhand treatment. Particularly from a recently graduated student.

Dumbledore decided to try another tack. “Nonetheless your actions last night will have a bearing on the scholastic reputation of the school, as well as yourself and Professor Snape. I really must insist that you tell me what transpired last night?”

“I fail to see how this affects Hogwarts scholastic reputation.” Hermione tone was becoming a little more clipped.

Albus didn’t take the hint. “It might be suggested that your recent academic success was due to an exchange of favours.”

Severus winced. That was going to hit Hermione where it hurt, she was very proud of her academic success. He was surprised when she merely laughed. “I am  prepared to take veritaserum to confirm that nothing between Severus and I  before I graduated. My name isn’t Pansy Parkinson.”

Albus shot a quick glance at Severus, who quickly denied any involvement in Miss Parkinson’s grades. “Defence against the dark arts?” she continued. “Oh for  heaven’s sake, you mean that none of you noticed the queue forming up for Professor Quertic’s ahem tutoring classes?”

Severus smirked. It looked like yet another DADA teacher wasn’t going to last  longer than a year.

Hermione moved onto the offensive with barely a breath to spare. After five  minutes Severus was convinced he was the best candidate for the newly vacated  DADA job, but he had always suspected that to be true. Albus was a harder nut to crack. It took Hermione fifteen minutes of intensive arguing before he broke  down and offered Severus the job. With a payrise. A very big payrise. And new quarters away from the cold and draughty dungeons. With a fire place connected to the floo network. And permission for guests to stay overnight in his new and  improved quarters. And an Order of Merlin first class.

Dumbledore’s face was ashen when she finished. He waved his hand limply at them  to leave. “Take my advice, Severus. If you don’t want to end up married to her,  start running now.”

Hermione blushed. It was the first time he had ever seen her look unconvinced  that the world was going to rearrange itself to suit her wishes.

He looked into her eyes and saw the future set out before him. She would bully him into eating properly and taking care of himself. She would make him wear his scarf in winter, and wrap up warm. She would force him into being sociable, dragging him along to all sorts of events with her annoying Gryffindor friends. She probably had the number and names of their children all decided.

He would be annoyed, exasperated and enchanted all at once, but it would never be dull.

Acting on impulse, he kissed her hand, and watched her eyes soften. “Why on  earth would I want to run, Albus?”

She blushed an even deeper shade of red. Underneath that painfully practical exterior beat the heart of a romantic, and no one else had had the wit to  realise it. Harry was right in a way; she needed to be looked after, and for the first time he could understand what he could offer her. He was aware that he  wasn’t good looking, and he couldn’t even run the ‘it’s the personality that  counts’ line, because truthfully he was arrogant, irritable and impatient.

But he had seen what the boys surrounding her hadn’t. She may dismiss flowers  and chocolates and moonlit walks as silly and a waste of time, but that was because she had taken a long hard look at the world and decided no one was ever  going to offer that to her. Hadn’t he done the same? He could sweep her off her feet, and shower her with affection, and she would blossom. That and the  constant, wild shagging. The list of her fantasies had been quite impressive.

Hermione taming looked to be a lifetime’s occupation, but he rather thought that he would be able to get the upper hand from time to time.

THE END?



A/N I have been asked about the chip butty. (Some earlier reviewers of this  desciption seem to be having cross-cultural difficulties. This is UK chips we  are talking about, which is the same as US Fries; and not US chips which are UK crisps. Dear God can you imagine eating a crisp sarnie for breakfast??)

It is true that there are regional and even national variations in their construction. For instance, the Belgians eat their chips with mayonnaise. People in the north of England may put gravy or curry sauce on their chips, and  therefore may do the same when making a butty.

It isn’t possible to make a butty with thin fries like those found in  MacDonalds. What you need is a big fat chip, preferably one that has been fried twice. You fry them, let them rest, and then pop them back in for a few minutes to warm them up. Alternatively you nip down to your local chippy and procure a  large portion of chips.

There is a great deal of debate as to the bread content of the chip butty. In  some areas in the north of England a butty is constructed using a roll, a bit  like a hot dog, and with ketchup or brown sauce but NOT mustard.

My own personal preference is to use supermarket bread with the texture of cotton wool. This means that it wraps round the chips more easily, and seems to  me to have a more pleasing chip to bread ratio than say a bun. The chips are  then carefully arranged on one half one slice of the buttered bread, until the  whole surface area is covered. It is permissible and indeed desirable to have excess chip trailing over the side. Condiments such as salt and vinegar are  added. There is a new fashion for adding black pepper also, but I think that is  just a modern fad.

The bread is then folded in half, and clutched in both hands to be eaten. If the number of chips is found to be inadequate, it is permissible to insert further  chips. This typically occurs on inadequate chip severing on taking a bite, such that a whole chip is removed rather than the part strictly related to the consumed portion of butty, so that the remainder of the butty is empty. Care must also be taken to prevent the butter dripping out of the bottom of the butty  and impacting on any clothes. It may be thought prudent to wear a bib or tea  towel to prevent accidents.

I am a purist and won’t add ketchup or brown sauce to a butty, although I do think it is acceptable to use one to mop up either the runny yolk of a fried egg  or the sauce of your baked beans.

This is probably very close to the lecture Hermione gave Severus!