Neither the Laurel Nor the Rose - Part 1
Summary: The Malfoy family expects to receive the finest service possible, no matter what the task. When Draco seeks the affections of Hermione Granger, he enlists the aid of a careful wordsmith - one Severus Snape.
Rating: PG 13 - for language
A/N: This is the 2011 SS/HG Exchange gift I wrote for Devsgma. Original Prompt: Post-war. EWE. Hermione and Severus work together (Ministry, Hogwarts etc. - your choice). They have established a real friendship, but Severus' hard achieved emotional balance is disturbed when one day Draco shows up and asks him for advice on writing a love letter to Hermione.
I want to thank Lariope for agreeing to beta my work and Beck and Devsgma for offering encouragement and advice every time I need it.
Part One
Severus slid into his seat at the High Table and immediately reached for his cup of tea, ignoring the nauseatingly cheerful "Good Morning" from the Potions mistress on his left. Rather than appear offended, she merely smiled and passed him the small pot of marmalade without being asked.
He was well into his second cup, having demolished a large portion of his fry-up, before Severus acknowledged her. "Have you given any more thought to what we discussed last night?"
Hermione looked at him, tilting her head to the side in a way he found almost, well-not as annoying as when Sybill did it. Sybill always looked like some big-eyed, repulsive creature, confused by shiny colors and big words. Hermione looked ... inquisitive. Coy.
Attractive. Severus ignored the stray thought.
"Do you mean Mendelson's theory on the viability of using transfigured beetles and other creatures as ingredients in potions, or are you still trying to convince me that your Blishen's is superior to my Dungbarrel?"
He gave her a near smile, his lips relaxed and one side lifted ever so slightly. It was an expression that he rarely shared with anyone, but he had grown comfortable with Hermione over the last few years. Comfortable enough to spend the occasional quiet evening in front of his fire or hers, discussing their work, coworkers or whatever struck their fancy. Comfortable enough to consider her a friend.
"Firewhisky is always superior to spiced mead."
She looked like she was about to offer a reply when her attention was diverted by the parliament of owls entering the Great Hall, intent on delivering the morning mail.
Severus turned to watch his Slytherins receive their letters and packages. Either nothing illicit had been delivered, or the recipients were intelligent enough to hide any offensive items until they were away from the watchful eye of their Head of House.
One of the owls flew the length of the Hall, then gracefully turned to glide toward the High Table. Severus recognized the bird as Malfoy's eagle owl as it landed on the table between his and Hermione's plates.
The owl vocalized disdainfully and lifted its talon, and Severus quickly retrieved the attached letter. His thumb swept across the distinctive wax seal bearing the Malfoy crest as Hermione offered the owl a piece of sausage from her plate. He was pleased to see that she was cautious about it, keeping her fingers well away from the bird's sharp beak. It took the treat and launched itself into the air.
Severus turned the envelope over in his hand, intending to tuck it into his robes to open later, and hesitated.
After a moment, he held the letter out to Hermione. "It's addressed to you."
She took it, briefly studying the seal before looking up at Severus, her brows furrowed in confusion. Severus turned back to his breakfast, visibly disinterested.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her discreetly pull her wand and cast several quick revealing charms on the letter under the table. Severus approved. Even now, ten years after the end of the Second War, there were still those who had been sympathetic to the Dark Lord and his cause.
Apparently assured that the letter posed no immediate threat, Hermione carefully slid her finger under the seal and opened the envelope. She withdrew a sheet of the finest parchment galleons could buy and read it.
"It's from Draco."
Severus made a noncommittal noise and spread marmalade on a piece of toast, waiting for her to elaborate without appearing too interested.
"He's invited me to supper."
He froze, the piece of toast halfway to his mouth. Slowly, Severus set the toast on his plate and turned to look at her. "What's the occasion?"
She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know; he doesn't say."
"What will you say in reply?" he asked, mentally congratulating himself for sounding just a bit curious and not at all unnerved.
Hermione cast a quick look around to make sure no one else was paying attention to the two of them, then carefully tucked the parchment back into its envelope. "No, of course. I'll just tell him I've a prior commitment and leave it at that."
He made another vague noise and turned back to his toast. Severus chose not to consider why her refusal made him feel oddly relieved.
~oOo~
With growing impatience, Severus stood just outside the closed door to the Potions classroom. According to his pocket watch, the class should have let out five minutes ago.
Suddenly, the door opened and a wave of grumbling sixth-years swept out, automatically parting to give Severus a wide berth. Over the top of the student's heads, he could see Hermione at the front of the classroom, her lips set in a tight line of disapproval. She caught sight of him, standing just outside the doorway, still surrounded by the last of the exiting pupils.
"Professor Snape."
"Professor Granger," Severus replied, his tone as formal as hers had been.
He waited until the last of the little brats had disappeared down the dungeon corridors to enter the classroom. As he approached her desk, he noted that nothing seemed obviously amiss. There were no cauldrons melted to tables, no noxious fluids dripping from the ceiling, not even shards of broken jars cluttering the floor. Yet something had put her in a bad mood.
"Hermione." This greeting was warmer than his first had been.
"Severus." She gave him a small smile in return, and he was pleased to see that whatever had upset her could not have been that serious. Hermione sighed and rolled her shoulders, trying to release the tension.
The urge to step behind her and place his hands upon those shoulders, to knead the stress out of her muscles with his fingertips, was strong and unwelcome. Casual touches were not uncommon between them- he was aware that Hermione often reached out to touch his arm or the back of his hand, and he had been known to return similar gestures over the course of their friendship; but, no matter how innocent the intent, he would never presume to inflict such familiarity upon a colleague.
The thought of massaging Minerva's shoulders in such a manner made him shudder.
He realized Hermione had stopped gathering the parchments spread across her desktop to stare at him, her gaze growing concerned the longer he remained silent and still.
To cover for his momentary lapse, Severus flicked his fingers toward the chalkboard that was covered with instructions for the last class. "Are you done with that?"
Hermione smiled again, turning her attention back to straightening the pile of student essays. "Please."
With a swish of his wand an eraser leapt into action, wiping her writing from the board. "What did the horde of miscreants do this time?"
"Mister Crowley and Miss Babbleshot have had a falling out." Hermione paused while Severus muttered that even Sybill could have seen that coming. "Yes, well, be that as it may, Mister Crowley apparently felt that Miss Babbleshot had not spent enough time mourning the end of their relationship since she'd already moved on to Mister Wiblin."
She picked up the stack of essays and began to walk toward the door, Severus following close behind. "If memory serves, all three are in the class that just made haste to escape from the dungeons," he observed.
Hermione paused in the corridor, just outside the classroom. "Right in one. Barely five minutes into brewing a Hiccupping Solution, Crowley dumped the contents of his cauldron over Wiblin's head." At Severus' dismayed look, Hermione continued. "Just wait, it gets worse. I don't know what Crowley was actually attempting to brew; I suspect the boy had just been tossing whatever was at hand into his cauldron. Poor Wiblin was covered in a vast quantity of things that I could not identify at first glance. Babbleshot, clearly outraged at the treatment of her new paramour, cast Furnunculus, but missed Crowley and hit poor Miss MacFarlan. And that is when everything went to hell."
Severus valiantly tried to keep his lips from twitching in mirth, but the glare Hermione sent his way told him that he was unsuccessful.
"Long story short: several detentions, two vials of boil cure potion, a fair bit of curative spellwork, two students sent to the Hospital Wing, a massive cleanup, and a surprise essay assignment on the dangers of improper conduct in the Potions classroom later ... I need a drink. Or a biscuit. Or both. Both would be nice."
Severus didn't bother to hide his smirk this time. "We've got a little over an hour and a half before we have to report to the Great Hall for supper. Your room?" He tilted his head to the left. "Or mine?" This time he tilted it toward the right.
Hermione worried her lower lip for a moment as she considered the question. "Mine. I need to drop these essays off, and I've got better biscuits."
"I don't remember you complaining when you stole the only remaining biscuit off my plate last week," he noted as he guided her down the hall, his hand on the small of her back, fingers barely pressing against the fabric of her teaching robes.
~oOo~
The staff meeting had started more than a quarter of an hour before, and Severus was extremely irritated that a minor student scuffle in the hall had made him late. Therefore, he wasn’t in the best of moods when he finally appeared and headed straight for the only empty chair near the far corner of the room.
Hermione had managed, once again, to be seated nearest the Headmistress. She shot him an indulgent look, a hint of a smile on her lips, as he made his brief excuses to Minerva. He didn’t bother to pay more than the barest of attention to Filius’ complaint about the strange, offensive smell wafting up from Hagrid’s garden. Hermione was furiously scribbling in a notebook, and he watched her hand, noting the ever-present ink stains on her fingers.
The meeting continued for another twenty or thirty minutes before Minerva asked if anyone else had anything to add, then excused everyone.
The other teachers slowly filed out of the room in small clusters, Hermione bringing up the rear. She hesitated at the door, waiting for him to join her.
"Who did what this time?" she asked.
He grimaced, his earlier irritation returning. "Idiots. Two second-years fighting over one of Weasleys' Skiving Snackboxes in the corridor outside my classroom. I confiscated it, of course, and Filch will have company when he scrubs the moving staircases this weekend."
Hermione shook her head, her annoyance clearly faked. "You know I needed ‘volunteers’ to scrape the first-year cauldrons. You promised to send your extras my way."
Severus lowered his gaze, his contrition feigned, gesturing for her to go through the door before him. "You wouldn’t have wanted them anyway; they’re too young. No upper arm strength."
She snorted. As they walked down the hallway, she ripped a sheet of paper out of her notebook. It was covered in her familiar, compact handwriting.
"What’s this?"
"It started out as notes for the parts of the meeting you missed, but then I noticed how attentive you weren’t being once you finally showed up, and I kept writing. I know how much you hate it when the others know something you don’t."
There was a spark of annoyance at the thought that she dared to chastise him, no matter how gently or kindheartedly she might have gone about it.
"I have been attending these meetings for almost as long as you’ve been alive, Hermione. I believe I can judge whether Minerva’s blathering is important or not, even with my mind on other things."
She snatched the paper out of his hand. "Then I guess you don’t care that Minerva is considering agreeing to Aurora’s suggestion that each of us cut part of our budgets to help pay for the extremely expensive telescope she requisitioned."
"What?" Severus bellowed, grabbing for her notes.
Hermione laughed, dancing out of his reach and holding the paper over her head. "Oh no, I wouldn’t want to offend you with my silly, unimportant note taking."
"Give me that, woman!" He refused to engage in her childish behavior, although the urge to deduct house points was nearly overpowering when she stuck her tongue out at him. "Granger."
"Snape," Hermione replied in a feminine imitation of his warning growl.
"You are incorrigible."
"Flatterer." With another laugh, she lowered her arm and offered the paper to him. "Next time you might want to at least skim the notes before you completely dismiss them."
"Know-it-all," he muttered under his breath even as he took the paper and tucked it into his robes.
~oOo~
Less than a week later, the familiar eagle owl made a return appearance. This time its delivery coincided with the last meal of the day, without the cover of the flurry of other owls to distract curious eyes. As the bird dropped a large oblong box between Severus and Hermione's supper plates, he couldn't help noticing that they had attracted the attention of most of the faculty and quite a few of the students seated at the near end of the House tables.
With an uneasy look toward Severus, Hermione reluctantly moved to open the box. Severus stilled her hand. He quickly cast a pair of charms to check for any jinxes or hexes, ignoring the faint whisper of gossip his spellwork generated amongst the Hufflepuffs. He was the Defence teacher, after all; it wouldn't hurt the little shits to see a practical application of a defensive spell or two.
Convinced that the box was safe from dark spells, he released her hand. Severus tilted his head to acknowledge her soft "Thank you" and watched as Hermione carefully opened the box.
Tucked atop a nest of deep green tissue paper was a folded card. She opened it and bit her lower lip.
Severus didn't bother hiding his impatient curiosity. "Well, what is it this time?"
"Draco, again." She shook her head as if she couldn't believe what she was reading. "He wants me to accept a cutting from the Malfoy conservatory as a gift and requests my company for a meal this coming weekend."
"You said you were going to turn him down the first time he asked." He threw his napkin down on the table, aware that he was being irrationally short with her.
"I did. Well, technically I only told him I was busy on the night he'd requested. I didn't tell him to bugger off or anything like that. I didn't want to be rude."
"You didn't want to be rude," Severus repeated, unable to keep a note of disbelief out of his voice.
She glared at him in reply.
Just then, Pomona piped up. She had obviously been eavesdropping from two seats down and was curious as to what Draco had sent. "Don't just sit there-open it, dear."
Hermione cautiously unfolded the tissue paper. Her gasp was loud enough to be heard halfway down the High Table.
Severus shifted closer to see what was in the box, aware that Pomona had stood up and was leaning over poor Filius to do the same.
Carefully incased inside a protective bubble was a plant, roughly half a meter from its strangely misshapen bulb to the topmost petal of the flowering head. It looked like some sort of a hybrid between a sweet pea and a pink lily, with a long stalk-like stem, and three blunt nodules around the bottom of the bulb. Nestled inside the petals of the flower was a thin tendril that moved, curling up on itself, then slowly unfurling to reveal a small stinger that struck the invisible barrier of the protective bubble.
"Triffidus celestus," Pomona hissed. Rather unnecessarily, as far as Severus was concerned. Any N.E.W.T. level Potions student should have been able to identify the plant, as the stinger's secretions were used in at least three poisons. Not that he'd ever allowed any of his students to actually brew those poisons, as Triffids were difficult to grow in captivity and did not react kindly to any attempts to milk them, making their venom exorbitantly expensive.
What annoyed him even more was that Lucius clearly had access to an adult Triffid and hadn't seen fit to share that tidbit of information. Bastard.
"He's magnificent," whispered Pomona somewhat wistfully.
"He is," Hermione agreed with a nod of her head. She looked up, and Severus could see her intent in her expression before she spoke again. "And I think he would be best suited in one of your greenhouses, Pomona. Don't you agree, Severus?"
He was quick to offer his agreement, reaching for the box and passing it along to the Herbology professor when Hermione nudged it toward him. "If anyone could successfully nurture it to full growth, it's you."
Pomona beamed, gently cradling the box as one might hold a newborn babe, and quickly excused herself from the table.
Severus noted that Hermione still held Draco's note. He lowered his voice to keep the rest of the busybodies who were still looking in their direction from overhearing. "Perhaps this time you might be better served to make your refusal all-encompassing."
She nodded again, but Severus could see that she had her lower lip caught between her teeth, and he knew- he just knew-that he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. "Although, he is being rather persistent. I wonder what the harm would be in finding out what he wants?"
Hermione turned to look at him, blinking at the look on his face. "With proper precautions, of course."
Severus felt a rumbling growl building in his chest and drowned the noise in a large gulp of wine before it had a chance to escape.
"I would hardly call two attempts persistent, but I'm sure you know best. You always know best, don't you?"
He pretended not to notice the hurt in her eyes as he finished his meal and left the table.
~oOo~
The firewhisky heating his body from the inside out made it a bit too uncomfortable in front of the fire, but the flames were hypnotic. Severus was slouched upon his leather chair, limbs splayed wide and boneless. A glass of nearly empty firewhisky was precariously dangling from his hand, inches above the cold stone floor.
As he stared, unmoving, into the flames, his mind worked, bouncing from subject to subject but always coming back to the same thing. Hermione Granger.
Tonight was the night she had gone to meet Draco for supper. It was late enough that she was probably back in the castle, tucked safely into her bed.
Unless Draco had managed to charm her into his bed.
Severus blinked, annoyed at that thought, and took another long sip from his glass.
Hermione was far too intelligent to fall for Draco's superficial charms. Then again, he had managed to sway her into agreeing to tonight's date.
He snorted, the noise loud in the otherwise quiet room. Malfoys did not date. They had liaisons. Occasionally romantic, often carnal, and always calculated to be beneficial for Malfoy.
Severus wasn't sure if he meant Lucius or Draco at this point. He contemplated the bottom of his empty glass and considered getting up to refill it.
Getting up and crossing the room to the small liquor cabinet would put him that much closer to the door, and that would, in turn, put him that much closer to the corridor outside his hidden rooms. From there, it would only be a few minute's walk to the portrait that stood guard over Hermione's dungeon suite. A quick knock on her door, and he could confirm for himself whether or not she was home.
And alone.
What would he even say if she opened the door? What possible excuse could he have for disturbing her privacy this late in the evening?
Curiosity? She'd surely tell him it was none of his business. That's exactly what he would do if she were to appear at his door in the middle of the night, curious about his social engagement with a woman.
Concern for her safety? As if he really believed Hermione couldn't hold her own against Draco Malfoy. Lucius would be a different matter, but Severus was well aware that Hermione knew how to fight dirty, and he would be willing to offer nearly even odds if the two were ever to meet face to face with wands drawn.
Need to borrow a cup of powdered root of asphodel?
Severus snorted again. It was late, and if he wasn't going to pour another glass of firewhisky, he might as well go to bed.
He'd been avoiding Hermione for the last few days, showing up late to meals, making sure he didn't run into her in the halls ... Perhaps he would show up early for breakfast in the morning, let her jabber on to one of the other harpies at the table about her date, and then offer to walk with her to the library or wherever she wanted to disappear to. She was an intelligent girl; she'd spent enough time with him to recognize the gesture for what it was. An unspoken Snape apology.
A disturbance in his wards gave Severus an advanced warning that he was about to have a visitor. He was already standing when he heard the knock at his door.
Perhaps he wouldn't have to seek Hermione out in the morning after all.
He straightened the cuffs of his button-down shirt and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back into place before opening the door. His greeting, a perfect blend of welcome and patient forbearance, died unspoken on his lips.
It wasn't Hermione standing at his threshold. It was her earlier companion, the Malfoy scion.
"Severus. Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Severus sneered in response and gave very serious consideration to shutting the door in Draco's face. It was only the thought of dealing with both Lucius and Hermione's ire that had him stepping back and allowing Draco into his rooms.
"It's after midnight, Draco. I can only assume this isn't a social visit, so let's dispense with the usual polite pleasantries and skip right to the heart of the matter. What do you want?"
The blond scowled and settled into Severus' leather chair. "You're not even going to offer me a drink?"
Crossing his arms across his chest, Severus chose to remain standing rather than taking a seat on the sofa. "No."
"I knew this would be a waste of time, but Father insisted."
At the mention of Lucius, Severus grew tense. Nothing good ever came from Lucius insisting. Nothing good for Severus, at any rate. "Get. To. The point."
Draco looked very put out, which was only fair as that was exactly how Severus was feeling at the moment. "You may have noticed that I've been corresponding with Hermione Granger."
Severus sneered. "Your eagle owl is difficult to miss."
Judging from the smug expression on Draco's face, he thought that had been a compliment.
"Professor Sprout was quite pleased with your offering of the Triffid, as I'm sure Professor Granger has told you." Severus was betting she had done no such thing.
The smug expression disappeared with satisfying speed. "Professor Sprout? Why would she be pleased?"
"Why wouldn't she? It's not every day that Hogwarts is granted such a gift. Why, once it reaches maturity, I'm sure it will be the pride of Greenhouse Three."
Draco spluttered, then quickly schooled his features into impassivity. It was too late; Severus had already received the reaction he had been hoping for. Lucius would have never let so much slip with just a look, but Draco was not as calculating as his father.
Severus poured himself another firewhisky, then made himself comfortable on the sofa. "I interrupted you before. You were saying?"
With an envious look toward Severus' glass, Draco continued. "I asked Hermione to meet me this evening, where I expressed my interest in ... courting her."
Severus interrupted once more, "I thought you were practically engaged to the youngest Greengrass girl. Won't she find your sudden interest in Professor Granger to be an unwelcome complication to your relationship?"
"Astoria and I have parted company."
Severus took a moment to savor both the amber liquid in his glass and the look of bitterness and scarcely concealed longing on Draco's face. "So, you've moved on from Miss Greengrass to Professor Granger. Why?"
Draco raised a disdainful eyebrow, taking on a facsimile of the imperious expression that Lucius had perfected at an early age. "Do I need a reason?"
Giving the question more consideration than it probably warranted, Severus had to concede that if it were one of Hermione's wide circle of friendly acquaintances expressing an interest in pursuing her affections, he wouldn't suspect them of having an ulterior motive. Unless it were Weasley. Then again, I will always suspect him of being up to something. Him and that brother of his, George.
However, this wasn't one of her friends, not even Weasley. This was Draco Malfoy.
"Yes. You do." Severus studied the other man's face, eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Let's see ... Your father has been attempting to garner support and funds for his new committee. What better way to prove to all and sundry that he is a reformed and fully penitent man, than to have his son romantically linked to a Muggle-born? A very prominent Muggle-born who just happens to be a war heroine and a close, personal friend of Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World."
Judging by the way Draco suddenly became shifty eyed, Severus knew he was right.
"I can see what Lucius gets out of such an arrangement, but what's in it for you, Draco?"
There was a silent battle of wills that lasted the better part of a minute and a half- which Severus won without much effort on his part- before Draco mumbled something that Severus had to ask him to repeat.
"I said, she's a bossy cow with a nasty right hook."
Severus nearly choked on a sip of his firewhisky. "You want her to order you around and abuse you? Draco, there is nothing wrong with having an inclination toward an alternate lifestyle, but I do not think that Professor Granger is similarly inclined."
"What? No, I ..." Draco paused, eyes becoming slightly unfocused as he considered something. After a moment that dragged on far too long for Severus' comfort, Draco shook his head and continued. "No, that's not what I meant."
"Then, perhaps, you should clarify what, exactly, you do mean."
Draco sighed and stared into the distance beyond Severus' left shoulder. "I can remember how she was during school, bossing her friends around, always telling them to study or quit goofing off. At first I thought it was hilarious, Mother Granger and her widdle babies. Hell, once or twice I even pitied them, especially when she laid into one of them during supper because Weasel hadn’t finished an essay or something equally stupid.
"But then, sometime around sixth year, I suddenly realized why Potter and the Weasel let her get away with it. Every bossy word out of her mouth was proof that she cared about them. She always seemed to have their best interest at heart, no matter how unpopular it made her; even her idiot friends eventually caught on to that."
"Perhaps she just enjoys making others feel intellectually inferior?" Severs offered, playing the devil's advocate.
Draco snorted. "She never offered Crabbe or Goyle a revision schedule, did she? No, she only pesters the ones she loves, so to speak."
"And her right hook?"
The blond flushed, refusing to meet Severus' eyes. "No comment."
Severus sipped his firewhisky. "Let me recap. You've broken off with Miss Greengrass, Lucius has urged you to take up with Professor Granger, and because of her ... unique nature, you have no objection to the idea. How, may I ask, do I figure into all of this? It sounds as if you and Lucius have figured it all out already."
He watched as Draco flopped back into the chair, slouching in a manner that would have made his mother blanch. "She laughed at me. Then she realized I was serious and stared at me like I was Loony Lovegood talking about gnarblebargles or whatever she went on about all the time.
"I calmly explained why we would be perfect for each other, appealing to her logical nature. She looked ... if I didn't know any better, I would say she looked sad. Then, she told me if I were truly serious, then I needed to woo her."
Draco looked perplexed. "What does that even mean?"
Severus was suddenly reminded of how Draco used to be such a whingy little shit. He had thought Draco had grown out of that over the years.
"I imagine it means the same thing it usually means. Flowers, chocolates, love letters, all of the usual trappings of a young couple in love." He managed to make the last word sound like something especially vile. "You most likely made the right choice in not sending a more traditional floral offering to her."
"But you said she gave the Triffid away?"
"This is true." Severus nodded, not particularly worried about concealing his amusement. "However, she did arrange to keep it on the grounds rather than having it immediately destroyed. I'm sure that counts for something. Just continue prostrating yourself at her feet, and I’m sure she’ll be yours in no time at all."
Draco sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes at Severus, obviously picking up on the fact that the older man was mocking him. "Malfoys do not prostrate themselves at anyone’s feet," he hissed. Severus thought about reminding him when they’d done just that for the Dark Lord, but refrained.
Then Draco’s look became sly and almost cunning, and Severus wished he’d done it anyway. "Normally, women come to me. You can see how someone of my pedigree and standing would not want for companionship." He ignored Severus’ sarcastic, "Of course," and continued, "Father confided that once he’d set eyes upon Mother, he’d never felt the need to pursue another."
This time it was nearly impossible to ignore the way Severus choked on his firewhisky. Draco glared for a moment, waiting until Severus could breathe again to go on. "That’s when Father suggested I come to you. He assures me that you must have put some effort into trying to attract women at some point, and surely you’ve learned enough from your past failures to point me in the right direction."
"Did he?" Severus’ tone was soft and deadly.
Draco, strangely enough- perhaps because he had not been Severus’ student for nearly a decade-did not pick up on the danger. "Oh, yes. He said he distinctly remembered you chasing after a girl or two in your younger years."
"Indeed." Somehow, Severus’ voice was even softer.
The younger man suddenly seemed to realize he might have misspoken. "Yes, so, moving on. Father thought you could help me out, offer some advice and all that."
Severus leaned back, laying his free arm upon the back of the sofa in a confident, casual pose. "And why would I possibly want to do that?"
Looking confused, as if he genuinely could not understand why Severus wouldn’t be jumping at the chance to assist him, Draco stuttered, "But ... but don’t you remember who found you in the Shrieking Shack? Father stopped your bleeding, got you to the castle and saved your life. You owe him."
Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Severus conceded that much. "This is true, but why should I help you, Draco?"
Comprehension finally dawned behind the younger man’s eyes. "I see, you want it spelled out."
"In explicit, irrefutable terms so there is no confusion or room for misinterpretation."
Draco looked as if he might protest, then he shrugged. "Fair enough." It wasn’t his life debt, after all. "Father thought you might need some additional persuasion. He has agreed that if you help me win Granger, he will consider your debt to him fulfilled."
Severus considered it for a moment. "What if Professor Granger ultimately decides not to marry you? I cannot be held accountable for the capricious whims of the female mind, and I will not risk Azkaban by brewing an illicit love potion, life debt or no." Not to be used on Hermione, and certainly not on Draco’s behalf.
"Would I have your word that you would give me your best efforts, leaving no stone unturned, illegal brewing or spells aside?"
The fact that he was even considering this was a clue that he’d had too much to drink, but the thought of finally being out from under the specter of his life debt to Lucius was an incredible temptation. Hermione had already signaled some level of interest by agreeing to meet with Draco in the first place, not to mention instructing him to woo her. As much as the idea of Draco and Hermione together disgusted him, it would be easier to stomach than the first year she’d joined the teaching staff and had still been trying to work things out with Weasley.
No more life debt. I’d be a truly free man for the first time in decades.
"Agreed. As this involves Lucius, I want it in writing."
"Done," Draco crowed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "You’ll have the contract first thing in the morning. Now, tell me what I should do."
The phrase, "Get the hell out of my rooms," came to mind as Severus drained his glass.
"You’ve tried flowers already." He smirked. "Not as successful as one might have hoped." His amusement shifted into a frown as he continued to think. "Chocolates are almost universally well received … except for when they aren’t. Professor Granger does not strike me as the sort of woman who would see such a gift as a misguided commentary upon her weight, but perhaps it would be better to be safe, rather than sorry, for now."
Draco nodded along, willing to agree to almost anything Severus if it meant getting his father off his back.
"She’s a literate woman; rarely do I see her without something to read close at hand," mused Severus.
"Oh!" Draco perked up, pleased to come up with an idea all on his own. "I could give her a book. An expensive book."
Severus rolled his eyes. "If you wish to take the easy, obvious route. Trust me, if Professor Granger desired a certain tome, she would have already made arrangements to procure it."
He gestured toward his desk and the small stack of parchment upon it. "Give her something else to read. Woo her with words. Write her a letter."
"Excellent idea!" Draco hurried over to the desk and sat behind it. He reached for Severus’ quill and dipped it into the ink, then hesitated with the quill hovering over a pristine piece of parchment. "What should I write?"
Mumbling under his breath about the idiocy of some people and how it always fell to him to do everything, Severus pulled himself off the sofa and stalked to the closest bookshelf. After a moment’s searching, he found a slim volume and crossed the room toward Draco, thumbing through the pages.
"There. She’ll appreciate this one," he said as he thumped the book upon the desk, open to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130.
Draco’s lips straightened into a flat line as he read, then folded into an unbecoming frown. "My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun? What does that mean? Breasts are dun, black wires, breath reeks. I can’t tell her that her breath reeks! Have you lost your mind?"
Severus could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. He wasn’t in the mood to explain about inverting Petrarchan conceits, especially since Draco was already trying his limited patience. "Fine." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Write your thoughts about her. Do not mention Lucius, by any means. Tell her why you want her for your companion."
Draco looked confused. "I should tell her she’s a bossy cow?"
"For fuck’s sake, Draco, give me the damn parchment."
* The title of this story comes from a line from Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac. The quote can be found in Act 5.
Cyrano: I know, you will leave me with nothing- neither the laurel nor the rose. Take it all then! There is one possession I take with me from this place. Tonight when I stand before God-and bow low to him, so that my forehead brushes his footstool, the firmament- I will stand again and proudly show Him that one pure possession-which I have never ceased to cherish or to share with all-
* Triffids are the creation of John Wyndham, and first appeared in his 1951 novel The Day of the Triffids. I have borrowed one for purely creative reasons, no infringement intended.
* Draco reads and quotes part of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130, which I will reproduce in its entirety here, just in case someone is unfamiliar with it.
Sonnet 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
-William Shakespeare
Part 2
Rating: PG 13 - for language
A/N: This is the 2011 SS/HG Exchange gift I wrote for Devsgma. Original Prompt: Post-war. EWE. Hermione and Severus work together (Ministry, Hogwarts etc. - your choice). They have established a real friendship, but Severus' hard achieved emotional balance is disturbed when one day Draco shows up and asks him for advice on writing a love letter to Hermione.
I want to thank Lariope for agreeing to beta my work and Beck and Devsgma for offering encouragement and advice every time I need it.
Part One
Severus slid into his seat at the High Table and immediately reached for his cup of tea, ignoring the nauseatingly cheerful "Good Morning" from the Potions mistress on his left. Rather than appear offended, she merely smiled and passed him the small pot of marmalade without being asked.
He was well into his second cup, having demolished a large portion of his fry-up, before Severus acknowledged her. "Have you given any more thought to what we discussed last night?"
Hermione looked at him, tilting her head to the side in a way he found almost, well-not as annoying as when Sybill did it. Sybill always looked like some big-eyed, repulsive creature, confused by shiny colors and big words. Hermione looked ... inquisitive. Coy.
Attractive. Severus ignored the stray thought.
"Do you mean Mendelson's theory on the viability of using transfigured beetles and other creatures as ingredients in potions, or are you still trying to convince me that your Blishen's is superior to my Dungbarrel?"
He gave her a near smile, his lips relaxed and one side lifted ever so slightly. It was an expression that he rarely shared with anyone, but he had grown comfortable with Hermione over the last few years. Comfortable enough to spend the occasional quiet evening in front of his fire or hers, discussing their work, coworkers or whatever struck their fancy. Comfortable enough to consider her a friend.
"Firewhisky is always superior to spiced mead."
She looked like she was about to offer a reply when her attention was diverted by the parliament of owls entering the Great Hall, intent on delivering the morning mail.
Severus turned to watch his Slytherins receive their letters and packages. Either nothing illicit had been delivered, or the recipients were intelligent enough to hide any offensive items until they were away from the watchful eye of their Head of House.
One of the owls flew the length of the Hall, then gracefully turned to glide toward the High Table. Severus recognized the bird as Malfoy's eagle owl as it landed on the table between his and Hermione's plates.
The owl vocalized disdainfully and lifted its talon, and Severus quickly retrieved the attached letter. His thumb swept across the distinctive wax seal bearing the Malfoy crest as Hermione offered the owl a piece of sausage from her plate. He was pleased to see that she was cautious about it, keeping her fingers well away from the bird's sharp beak. It took the treat and launched itself into the air.
Severus turned the envelope over in his hand, intending to tuck it into his robes to open later, and hesitated.
After a moment, he held the letter out to Hermione. "It's addressed to you."
She took it, briefly studying the seal before looking up at Severus, her brows furrowed in confusion. Severus turned back to his breakfast, visibly disinterested.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her discreetly pull her wand and cast several quick revealing charms on the letter under the table. Severus approved. Even now, ten years after the end of the Second War, there were still those who had been sympathetic to the Dark Lord and his cause.
Apparently assured that the letter posed no immediate threat, Hermione carefully slid her finger under the seal and opened the envelope. She withdrew a sheet of the finest parchment galleons could buy and read it.
"It's from Draco."
Severus made a noncommittal noise and spread marmalade on a piece of toast, waiting for her to elaborate without appearing too interested.
"He's invited me to supper."
He froze, the piece of toast halfway to his mouth. Slowly, Severus set the toast on his plate and turned to look at her. "What's the occasion?"
She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know; he doesn't say."
"What will you say in reply?" he asked, mentally congratulating himself for sounding just a bit curious and not at all unnerved.
Hermione cast a quick look around to make sure no one else was paying attention to the two of them, then carefully tucked the parchment back into its envelope. "No, of course. I'll just tell him I've a prior commitment and leave it at that."
He made another vague noise and turned back to his toast. Severus chose not to consider why her refusal made him feel oddly relieved.
~oOo~
With growing impatience, Severus stood just outside the closed door to the Potions classroom. According to his pocket watch, the class should have let out five minutes ago.
Suddenly, the door opened and a wave of grumbling sixth-years swept out, automatically parting to give Severus a wide berth. Over the top of the student's heads, he could see Hermione at the front of the classroom, her lips set in a tight line of disapproval. She caught sight of him, standing just outside the doorway, still surrounded by the last of the exiting pupils.
"Professor Snape."
"Professor Granger," Severus replied, his tone as formal as hers had been.
He waited until the last of the little brats had disappeared down the dungeon corridors to enter the classroom. As he approached her desk, he noted that nothing seemed obviously amiss. There were no cauldrons melted to tables, no noxious fluids dripping from the ceiling, not even shards of broken jars cluttering the floor. Yet something had put her in a bad mood.
"Hermione." This greeting was warmer than his first had been.
"Severus." She gave him a small smile in return, and he was pleased to see that whatever had upset her could not have been that serious. Hermione sighed and rolled her shoulders, trying to release the tension.
The urge to step behind her and place his hands upon those shoulders, to knead the stress out of her muscles with his fingertips, was strong and unwelcome. Casual touches were not uncommon between them- he was aware that Hermione often reached out to touch his arm or the back of his hand, and he had been known to return similar gestures over the course of their friendship; but, no matter how innocent the intent, he would never presume to inflict such familiarity upon a colleague.
The thought of massaging Minerva's shoulders in such a manner made him shudder.
He realized Hermione had stopped gathering the parchments spread across her desktop to stare at him, her gaze growing concerned the longer he remained silent and still.
To cover for his momentary lapse, Severus flicked his fingers toward the chalkboard that was covered with instructions for the last class. "Are you done with that?"
Hermione smiled again, turning her attention back to straightening the pile of student essays. "Please."
With a swish of his wand an eraser leapt into action, wiping her writing from the board. "What did the horde of miscreants do this time?"
"Mister Crowley and Miss Babbleshot have had a falling out." Hermione paused while Severus muttered that even Sybill could have seen that coming. "Yes, well, be that as it may, Mister Crowley apparently felt that Miss Babbleshot had not spent enough time mourning the end of their relationship since she'd already moved on to Mister Wiblin."
She picked up the stack of essays and began to walk toward the door, Severus following close behind. "If memory serves, all three are in the class that just made haste to escape from the dungeons," he observed.
Hermione paused in the corridor, just outside the classroom. "Right in one. Barely five minutes into brewing a Hiccupping Solution, Crowley dumped the contents of his cauldron over Wiblin's head." At Severus' dismayed look, Hermione continued. "Just wait, it gets worse. I don't know what Crowley was actually attempting to brew; I suspect the boy had just been tossing whatever was at hand into his cauldron. Poor Wiblin was covered in a vast quantity of things that I could not identify at first glance. Babbleshot, clearly outraged at the treatment of her new paramour, cast Furnunculus, but missed Crowley and hit poor Miss MacFarlan. And that is when everything went to hell."
Severus valiantly tried to keep his lips from twitching in mirth, but the glare Hermione sent his way told him that he was unsuccessful.
"Long story short: several detentions, two vials of boil cure potion, a fair bit of curative spellwork, two students sent to the Hospital Wing, a massive cleanup, and a surprise essay assignment on the dangers of improper conduct in the Potions classroom later ... I need a drink. Or a biscuit. Or both. Both would be nice."
Severus didn't bother to hide his smirk this time. "We've got a little over an hour and a half before we have to report to the Great Hall for supper. Your room?" He tilted his head to the left. "Or mine?" This time he tilted it toward the right.
Hermione worried her lower lip for a moment as she considered the question. "Mine. I need to drop these essays off, and I've got better biscuits."
"I don't remember you complaining when you stole the only remaining biscuit off my plate last week," he noted as he guided her down the hall, his hand on the small of her back, fingers barely pressing against the fabric of her teaching robes.
~oOo~
The staff meeting had started more than a quarter of an hour before, and Severus was extremely irritated that a minor student scuffle in the hall had made him late. Therefore, he wasn’t in the best of moods when he finally appeared and headed straight for the only empty chair near the far corner of the room.
Hermione had managed, once again, to be seated nearest the Headmistress. She shot him an indulgent look, a hint of a smile on her lips, as he made his brief excuses to Minerva. He didn’t bother to pay more than the barest of attention to Filius’ complaint about the strange, offensive smell wafting up from Hagrid’s garden. Hermione was furiously scribbling in a notebook, and he watched her hand, noting the ever-present ink stains on her fingers.
The meeting continued for another twenty or thirty minutes before Minerva asked if anyone else had anything to add, then excused everyone.
The other teachers slowly filed out of the room in small clusters, Hermione bringing up the rear. She hesitated at the door, waiting for him to join her.
"Who did what this time?" she asked.
He grimaced, his earlier irritation returning. "Idiots. Two second-years fighting over one of Weasleys' Skiving Snackboxes in the corridor outside my classroom. I confiscated it, of course, and Filch will have company when he scrubs the moving staircases this weekend."
Hermione shook her head, her annoyance clearly faked. "You know I needed ‘volunteers’ to scrape the first-year cauldrons. You promised to send your extras my way."
Severus lowered his gaze, his contrition feigned, gesturing for her to go through the door before him. "You wouldn’t have wanted them anyway; they’re too young. No upper arm strength."
She snorted. As they walked down the hallway, she ripped a sheet of paper out of her notebook. It was covered in her familiar, compact handwriting.
"What’s this?"
"It started out as notes for the parts of the meeting you missed, but then I noticed how attentive you weren’t being once you finally showed up, and I kept writing. I know how much you hate it when the others know something you don’t."
There was a spark of annoyance at the thought that she dared to chastise him, no matter how gently or kindheartedly she might have gone about it.
"I have been attending these meetings for almost as long as you’ve been alive, Hermione. I believe I can judge whether Minerva’s blathering is important or not, even with my mind on other things."
She snatched the paper out of his hand. "Then I guess you don’t care that Minerva is considering agreeing to Aurora’s suggestion that each of us cut part of our budgets to help pay for the extremely expensive telescope she requisitioned."
"What?" Severus bellowed, grabbing for her notes.
Hermione laughed, dancing out of his reach and holding the paper over her head. "Oh no, I wouldn’t want to offend you with my silly, unimportant note taking."
"Give me that, woman!" He refused to engage in her childish behavior, although the urge to deduct house points was nearly overpowering when she stuck her tongue out at him. "Granger."
"Snape," Hermione replied in a feminine imitation of his warning growl.
"You are incorrigible."
"Flatterer." With another laugh, she lowered her arm and offered the paper to him. "Next time you might want to at least skim the notes before you completely dismiss them."
"Know-it-all," he muttered under his breath even as he took the paper and tucked it into his robes.
~oOo~
Less than a week later, the familiar eagle owl made a return appearance. This time its delivery coincided with the last meal of the day, without the cover of the flurry of other owls to distract curious eyes. As the bird dropped a large oblong box between Severus and Hermione's supper plates, he couldn't help noticing that they had attracted the attention of most of the faculty and quite a few of the students seated at the near end of the House tables.
With an uneasy look toward Severus, Hermione reluctantly moved to open the box. Severus stilled her hand. He quickly cast a pair of charms to check for any jinxes or hexes, ignoring the faint whisper of gossip his spellwork generated amongst the Hufflepuffs. He was the Defence teacher, after all; it wouldn't hurt the little shits to see a practical application of a defensive spell or two.
Convinced that the box was safe from dark spells, he released her hand. Severus tilted his head to acknowledge her soft "Thank you" and watched as Hermione carefully opened the box.
Tucked atop a nest of deep green tissue paper was a folded card. She opened it and bit her lower lip.
Severus didn't bother hiding his impatient curiosity. "Well, what is it this time?"
"Draco, again." She shook her head as if she couldn't believe what she was reading. "He wants me to accept a cutting from the Malfoy conservatory as a gift and requests my company for a meal this coming weekend."
"You said you were going to turn him down the first time he asked." He threw his napkin down on the table, aware that he was being irrationally short with her.
"I did. Well, technically I only told him I was busy on the night he'd requested. I didn't tell him to bugger off or anything like that. I didn't want to be rude."
"You didn't want to be rude," Severus repeated, unable to keep a note of disbelief out of his voice.
She glared at him in reply.
Just then, Pomona piped up. She had obviously been eavesdropping from two seats down and was curious as to what Draco had sent. "Don't just sit there-open it, dear."
Hermione cautiously unfolded the tissue paper. Her gasp was loud enough to be heard halfway down the High Table.
Severus shifted closer to see what was in the box, aware that Pomona had stood up and was leaning over poor Filius to do the same.
Carefully incased inside a protective bubble was a plant, roughly half a meter from its strangely misshapen bulb to the topmost petal of the flowering head. It looked like some sort of a hybrid between a sweet pea and a pink lily, with a long stalk-like stem, and three blunt nodules around the bottom of the bulb. Nestled inside the petals of the flower was a thin tendril that moved, curling up on itself, then slowly unfurling to reveal a small stinger that struck the invisible barrier of the protective bubble.
"Triffidus celestus," Pomona hissed. Rather unnecessarily, as far as Severus was concerned. Any N.E.W.T. level Potions student should have been able to identify the plant, as the stinger's secretions were used in at least three poisons. Not that he'd ever allowed any of his students to actually brew those poisons, as Triffids were difficult to grow in captivity and did not react kindly to any attempts to milk them, making their venom exorbitantly expensive.
What annoyed him even more was that Lucius clearly had access to an adult Triffid and hadn't seen fit to share that tidbit of information. Bastard.
"He's magnificent," whispered Pomona somewhat wistfully.
"He is," Hermione agreed with a nod of her head. She looked up, and Severus could see her intent in her expression before she spoke again. "And I think he would be best suited in one of your greenhouses, Pomona. Don't you agree, Severus?"
He was quick to offer his agreement, reaching for the box and passing it along to the Herbology professor when Hermione nudged it toward him. "If anyone could successfully nurture it to full growth, it's you."
Pomona beamed, gently cradling the box as one might hold a newborn babe, and quickly excused herself from the table.
Severus noted that Hermione still held Draco's note. He lowered his voice to keep the rest of the busybodies who were still looking in their direction from overhearing. "Perhaps this time you might be better served to make your refusal all-encompassing."
She nodded again, but Severus could see that she had her lower lip caught between her teeth, and he knew- he just knew-that he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. "Although, he is being rather persistent. I wonder what the harm would be in finding out what he wants?"
Hermione turned to look at him, blinking at the look on his face. "With proper precautions, of course."
Severus felt a rumbling growl building in his chest and drowned the noise in a large gulp of wine before it had a chance to escape.
"I would hardly call two attempts persistent, but I'm sure you know best. You always know best, don't you?"
He pretended not to notice the hurt in her eyes as he finished his meal and left the table.
~oOo~
The firewhisky heating his body from the inside out made it a bit too uncomfortable in front of the fire, but the flames were hypnotic. Severus was slouched upon his leather chair, limbs splayed wide and boneless. A glass of nearly empty firewhisky was precariously dangling from his hand, inches above the cold stone floor.
As he stared, unmoving, into the flames, his mind worked, bouncing from subject to subject but always coming back to the same thing. Hermione Granger.
Tonight was the night she had gone to meet Draco for supper. It was late enough that she was probably back in the castle, tucked safely into her bed.
Unless Draco had managed to charm her into his bed.
Severus blinked, annoyed at that thought, and took another long sip from his glass.
Hermione was far too intelligent to fall for Draco's superficial charms. Then again, he had managed to sway her into agreeing to tonight's date.
He snorted, the noise loud in the otherwise quiet room. Malfoys did not date. They had liaisons. Occasionally romantic, often carnal, and always calculated to be beneficial for Malfoy.
Severus wasn't sure if he meant Lucius or Draco at this point. He contemplated the bottom of his empty glass and considered getting up to refill it.
Getting up and crossing the room to the small liquor cabinet would put him that much closer to the door, and that would, in turn, put him that much closer to the corridor outside his hidden rooms. From there, it would only be a few minute's walk to the portrait that stood guard over Hermione's dungeon suite. A quick knock on her door, and he could confirm for himself whether or not she was home.
And alone.
What would he even say if she opened the door? What possible excuse could he have for disturbing her privacy this late in the evening?
Curiosity? She'd surely tell him it was none of his business. That's exactly what he would do if she were to appear at his door in the middle of the night, curious about his social engagement with a woman.
Concern for her safety? As if he really believed Hermione couldn't hold her own against Draco Malfoy. Lucius would be a different matter, but Severus was well aware that Hermione knew how to fight dirty, and he would be willing to offer nearly even odds if the two were ever to meet face to face with wands drawn.
Need to borrow a cup of powdered root of asphodel?
Severus snorted again. It was late, and if he wasn't going to pour another glass of firewhisky, he might as well go to bed.
He'd been avoiding Hermione for the last few days, showing up late to meals, making sure he didn't run into her in the halls ... Perhaps he would show up early for breakfast in the morning, let her jabber on to one of the other harpies at the table about her date, and then offer to walk with her to the library or wherever she wanted to disappear to. She was an intelligent girl; she'd spent enough time with him to recognize the gesture for what it was. An unspoken Snape apology.
A disturbance in his wards gave Severus an advanced warning that he was about to have a visitor. He was already standing when he heard the knock at his door.
Perhaps he wouldn't have to seek Hermione out in the morning after all.
He straightened the cuffs of his button-down shirt and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back into place before opening the door. His greeting, a perfect blend of welcome and patient forbearance, died unspoken on his lips.
It wasn't Hermione standing at his threshold. It was her earlier companion, the Malfoy scion.
"Severus. Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Severus sneered in response and gave very serious consideration to shutting the door in Draco's face. It was only the thought of dealing with both Lucius and Hermione's ire that had him stepping back and allowing Draco into his rooms.
"It's after midnight, Draco. I can only assume this isn't a social visit, so let's dispense with the usual polite pleasantries and skip right to the heart of the matter. What do you want?"
The blond scowled and settled into Severus' leather chair. "You're not even going to offer me a drink?"
Crossing his arms across his chest, Severus chose to remain standing rather than taking a seat on the sofa. "No."
"I knew this would be a waste of time, but Father insisted."
At the mention of Lucius, Severus grew tense. Nothing good ever came from Lucius insisting. Nothing good for Severus, at any rate. "Get. To. The point."
Draco looked very put out, which was only fair as that was exactly how Severus was feeling at the moment. "You may have noticed that I've been corresponding with Hermione Granger."
Severus sneered. "Your eagle owl is difficult to miss."
Judging from the smug expression on Draco's face, he thought that had been a compliment.
"Professor Sprout was quite pleased with your offering of the Triffid, as I'm sure Professor Granger has told you." Severus was betting she had done no such thing.
The smug expression disappeared with satisfying speed. "Professor Sprout? Why would she be pleased?"
"Why wouldn't she? It's not every day that Hogwarts is granted such a gift. Why, once it reaches maturity, I'm sure it will be the pride of Greenhouse Three."
Draco spluttered, then quickly schooled his features into impassivity. It was too late; Severus had already received the reaction he had been hoping for. Lucius would have never let so much slip with just a look, but Draco was not as calculating as his father.
Severus poured himself another firewhisky, then made himself comfortable on the sofa. "I interrupted you before. You were saying?"
With an envious look toward Severus' glass, Draco continued. "I asked Hermione to meet me this evening, where I expressed my interest in ... courting her."
Severus interrupted once more, "I thought you were practically engaged to the youngest Greengrass girl. Won't she find your sudden interest in Professor Granger to be an unwelcome complication to your relationship?"
"Astoria and I have parted company."
Severus took a moment to savor both the amber liquid in his glass and the look of bitterness and scarcely concealed longing on Draco's face. "So, you've moved on from Miss Greengrass to Professor Granger. Why?"
Draco raised a disdainful eyebrow, taking on a facsimile of the imperious expression that Lucius had perfected at an early age. "Do I need a reason?"
Giving the question more consideration than it probably warranted, Severus had to concede that if it were one of Hermione's wide circle of friendly acquaintances expressing an interest in pursuing her affections, he wouldn't suspect them of having an ulterior motive. Unless it were Weasley. Then again, I will always suspect him of being up to something. Him and that brother of his, George.
However, this wasn't one of her friends, not even Weasley. This was Draco Malfoy.
"Yes. You do." Severus studied the other man's face, eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Let's see ... Your father has been attempting to garner support and funds for his new committee. What better way to prove to all and sundry that he is a reformed and fully penitent man, than to have his son romantically linked to a Muggle-born? A very prominent Muggle-born who just happens to be a war heroine and a close, personal friend of Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World."
Judging by the way Draco suddenly became shifty eyed, Severus knew he was right.
"I can see what Lucius gets out of such an arrangement, but what's in it for you, Draco?"
There was a silent battle of wills that lasted the better part of a minute and a half- which Severus won without much effort on his part- before Draco mumbled something that Severus had to ask him to repeat.
"I said, she's a bossy cow with a nasty right hook."
Severus nearly choked on a sip of his firewhisky. "You want her to order you around and abuse you? Draco, there is nothing wrong with having an inclination toward an alternate lifestyle, but I do not think that Professor Granger is similarly inclined."
"What? No, I ..." Draco paused, eyes becoming slightly unfocused as he considered something. After a moment that dragged on far too long for Severus' comfort, Draco shook his head and continued. "No, that's not what I meant."
"Then, perhaps, you should clarify what, exactly, you do mean."
Draco sighed and stared into the distance beyond Severus' left shoulder. "I can remember how she was during school, bossing her friends around, always telling them to study or quit goofing off. At first I thought it was hilarious, Mother Granger and her widdle babies. Hell, once or twice I even pitied them, especially when she laid into one of them during supper because Weasel hadn’t finished an essay or something equally stupid.
"But then, sometime around sixth year, I suddenly realized why Potter and the Weasel let her get away with it. Every bossy word out of her mouth was proof that she cared about them. She always seemed to have their best interest at heart, no matter how unpopular it made her; even her idiot friends eventually caught on to that."
"Perhaps she just enjoys making others feel intellectually inferior?" Severs offered, playing the devil's advocate.
Draco snorted. "She never offered Crabbe or Goyle a revision schedule, did she? No, she only pesters the ones she loves, so to speak."
"And her right hook?"
The blond flushed, refusing to meet Severus' eyes. "No comment."
Severus sipped his firewhisky. "Let me recap. You've broken off with Miss Greengrass, Lucius has urged you to take up with Professor Granger, and because of her ... unique nature, you have no objection to the idea. How, may I ask, do I figure into all of this? It sounds as if you and Lucius have figured it all out already."
He watched as Draco flopped back into the chair, slouching in a manner that would have made his mother blanch. "She laughed at me. Then she realized I was serious and stared at me like I was Loony Lovegood talking about gnarblebargles or whatever she went on about all the time.
"I calmly explained why we would be perfect for each other, appealing to her logical nature. She looked ... if I didn't know any better, I would say she looked sad. Then, she told me if I were truly serious, then I needed to woo her."
Draco looked perplexed. "What does that even mean?"
Severus was suddenly reminded of how Draco used to be such a whingy little shit. He had thought Draco had grown out of that over the years.
"I imagine it means the same thing it usually means. Flowers, chocolates, love letters, all of the usual trappings of a young couple in love." He managed to make the last word sound like something especially vile. "You most likely made the right choice in not sending a more traditional floral offering to her."
"But you said she gave the Triffid away?"
"This is true." Severus nodded, not particularly worried about concealing his amusement. "However, she did arrange to keep it on the grounds rather than having it immediately destroyed. I'm sure that counts for something. Just continue prostrating yourself at her feet, and I’m sure she’ll be yours in no time at all."
Draco sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes at Severus, obviously picking up on the fact that the older man was mocking him. "Malfoys do not prostrate themselves at anyone’s feet," he hissed. Severus thought about reminding him when they’d done just that for the Dark Lord, but refrained.
Then Draco’s look became sly and almost cunning, and Severus wished he’d done it anyway. "Normally, women come to me. You can see how someone of my pedigree and standing would not want for companionship." He ignored Severus’ sarcastic, "Of course," and continued, "Father confided that once he’d set eyes upon Mother, he’d never felt the need to pursue another."
This time it was nearly impossible to ignore the way Severus choked on his firewhisky. Draco glared for a moment, waiting until Severus could breathe again to go on. "That’s when Father suggested I come to you. He assures me that you must have put some effort into trying to attract women at some point, and surely you’ve learned enough from your past failures to point me in the right direction."
"Did he?" Severus’ tone was soft and deadly.
Draco, strangely enough- perhaps because he had not been Severus’ student for nearly a decade-did not pick up on the danger. "Oh, yes. He said he distinctly remembered you chasing after a girl or two in your younger years."
"Indeed." Somehow, Severus’ voice was even softer.
The younger man suddenly seemed to realize he might have misspoken. "Yes, so, moving on. Father thought you could help me out, offer some advice and all that."
Severus leaned back, laying his free arm upon the back of the sofa in a confident, casual pose. "And why would I possibly want to do that?"
Looking confused, as if he genuinely could not understand why Severus wouldn’t be jumping at the chance to assist him, Draco stuttered, "But ... but don’t you remember who found you in the Shrieking Shack? Father stopped your bleeding, got you to the castle and saved your life. You owe him."
Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Severus conceded that much. "This is true, but why should I help you, Draco?"
Comprehension finally dawned behind the younger man’s eyes. "I see, you want it spelled out."
"In explicit, irrefutable terms so there is no confusion or room for misinterpretation."
Draco looked as if he might protest, then he shrugged. "Fair enough." It wasn’t his life debt, after all. "Father thought you might need some additional persuasion. He has agreed that if you help me win Granger, he will consider your debt to him fulfilled."
Severus considered it for a moment. "What if Professor Granger ultimately decides not to marry you? I cannot be held accountable for the capricious whims of the female mind, and I will not risk Azkaban by brewing an illicit love potion, life debt or no." Not to be used on Hermione, and certainly not on Draco’s behalf.
"Would I have your word that you would give me your best efforts, leaving no stone unturned, illegal brewing or spells aside?"
The fact that he was even considering this was a clue that he’d had too much to drink, but the thought of finally being out from under the specter of his life debt to Lucius was an incredible temptation. Hermione had already signaled some level of interest by agreeing to meet with Draco in the first place, not to mention instructing him to woo her. As much as the idea of Draco and Hermione together disgusted him, it would be easier to stomach than the first year she’d joined the teaching staff and had still been trying to work things out with Weasley.
No more life debt. I’d be a truly free man for the first time in decades.
"Agreed. As this involves Lucius, I want it in writing."
"Done," Draco crowed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "You’ll have the contract first thing in the morning. Now, tell me what I should do."
The phrase, "Get the hell out of my rooms," came to mind as Severus drained his glass.
"You’ve tried flowers already." He smirked. "Not as successful as one might have hoped." His amusement shifted into a frown as he continued to think. "Chocolates are almost universally well received … except for when they aren’t. Professor Granger does not strike me as the sort of woman who would see such a gift as a misguided commentary upon her weight, but perhaps it would be better to be safe, rather than sorry, for now."
Draco nodded along, willing to agree to almost anything Severus if it meant getting his father off his back.
"She’s a literate woman; rarely do I see her without something to read close at hand," mused Severus.
"Oh!" Draco perked up, pleased to come up with an idea all on his own. "I could give her a book. An expensive book."
Severus rolled his eyes. "If you wish to take the easy, obvious route. Trust me, if Professor Granger desired a certain tome, she would have already made arrangements to procure it."
He gestured toward his desk and the small stack of parchment upon it. "Give her something else to read. Woo her with words. Write her a letter."
"Excellent idea!" Draco hurried over to the desk and sat behind it. He reached for Severus’ quill and dipped it into the ink, then hesitated with the quill hovering over a pristine piece of parchment. "What should I write?"
Mumbling under his breath about the idiocy of some people and how it always fell to him to do everything, Severus pulled himself off the sofa and stalked to the closest bookshelf. After a moment’s searching, he found a slim volume and crossed the room toward Draco, thumbing through the pages.
"There. She’ll appreciate this one," he said as he thumped the book upon the desk, open to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130.
Draco’s lips straightened into a flat line as he read, then folded into an unbecoming frown. "My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun? What does that mean? Breasts are dun, black wires, breath reeks. I can’t tell her that her breath reeks! Have you lost your mind?"
Severus could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. He wasn’t in the mood to explain about inverting Petrarchan conceits, especially since Draco was already trying his limited patience. "Fine." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Write your thoughts about her. Do not mention Lucius, by any means. Tell her why you want her for your companion."
Draco looked confused. "I should tell her she’s a bossy cow?"
"For fuck’s sake, Draco, give me the damn parchment."
* The title of this story comes from a line from Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac. The quote can be found in Act 5.
Cyrano: I know, you will leave me with nothing- neither the laurel nor the rose. Take it all then! There is one possession I take with me from this place. Tonight when I stand before God-and bow low to him, so that my forehead brushes his footstool, the firmament- I will stand again and proudly show Him that one pure possession-which I have never ceased to cherish or to share with all-
* Triffids are the creation of John Wyndham, and first appeared in his 1951 novel The Day of the Triffids. I have borrowed one for purely creative reasons, no infringement intended.
* Draco reads and quotes part of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130, which I will reproduce in its entirety here, just in case someone is unfamiliar with it.
Sonnet 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
-William Shakespeare
Part 2