Contradictus Totalus

Contradictus Totalus - Chapter 5

Within two months the students of Hogwarts had adjusted to life back at school seamlessly. They quickly reintegrated themselves into an environment where walking sticks and bottles of ink hurled from Peeves's hands were dodged on a daily basis. Where second-degree burns were a common occurrence among students attending Care of Magical Creatures class. Where fights between Slytherins and Gryffindors were regarded as commonplace as the moving staircases.

The sixth and seventh-year students also had a few other things to acclimatize to: Survival Against the Dark Arts class and Professor St.-Marie. They had learned that while she was much more reasonable than her co-instructor, her punishments for unacceptable behaviour were just as nasty as Professor Snape's. Ron and Harry still smiled happily when they thought of the memorable day Goyle had been forced to stand up on only one foot in the front of the class almost naked - alright, that was one aspect of their reminiscence that they wished they had never seen - while sprouting spots all over his body that periodically erupted and showered him with a foul-smelling viscous substance resembling mud. He had magically carved 'MUDBLOOD SITS HERE' on Hermione's desk, without having any idea how to erase it, and, unfortunately for him, it had not been Hermione who had spotted it first, but St.-Marie.

Indeed, Professor St.-Marie was a very capable professor, teaching the students of the Survival DADA class more than they ever expected they could have ever learned in just two months. This was not to say that Professor Snape was not a good professor either. The two professors both were very skilled at their trade, educating their students on the most effective and up-to-date spells to use in a survival situation.

Speaking of which, it was quite strange at first for the students to watch their two professors work together to pass on their knowledge. It seemed that Professor St.-Marie and Professor Snape had given up their dislike towards each other, at least temporarily. Hermione had noted that over the past two months, the two professors had left behind their earliest way of communication, speaking in stiff, formal sentences. They had also ceased competing with each other to explain and answer questions. Instead of jockeying for the right to speak, they had somehow formed a truce which left them cooperating with each other and generally being almost pleasant.

Hermione had pointed this out to Ron and Harry, and not to her surprise, neither of them had realized to what extent this truce had been. Harry had observed that they seemed to stop shooting murderous glares at each other, but he had thought that was because Dumbledore had stepped in and threatened to feed Snape to Hagrid's young Blast-Ended Skrewts or something to that effect. As for Ron, well, the only thing Ron had noticed was that Snape was arriving to Potions later and later, and seemed to be scolding the Gryffindors less and less often. Indeed, during a Potions class a few days before Hermione's birthday, Snape had failed to point out even once how abysmal Ron's potion-brewing skills were. (Quite distracted that day for reasons that he wouldn't disclose, Ron had accidentally dropped in a whole bushel of knotgrass into his cauldron instead of the required single blade, turning his Lust-Lessening Potion a conspicuous crimson as opposed to the cool blue brew that was simmering in Hermione's cauldron.)

Hermione had also observed some interesting changes being made to the setting of the classroom. The walls still bore the appearance of being made out of stone, but were now covered by many banners, tapestries, and posters, some of them moving, others stationary. These wall hangings had everything from pictures of Muggle sporting teams to wand movements for different curses to statistics for the number of deaths caused by the Waddiwasi spell (approximately 14 deaths per year, usually occurring when the soft mass being expelled is shot unintentionally into the trachea of the victim and cannot be dislodged). Hermione found these banners and posters very interesting to read and refer to. It was obvious that some students thought otherwise: she heard Malfoy snort when he saw the poster proclaiming the dangers of the Waddiwasi spell.

Speaking of Malfoy, it had seemed that she had not needed her faultlessly produced Peristalsis Draught after all. After his failed attempts to provoke a reaction from her, he had ceased trying to publicly humiliate her, a decision that she was perfectly content with. He still glared at her when he thought she was not looking, but Hermione had not seen him looking as emotional as he had on the first day of classes.

Unfortunately for some students, although the setting itself in the classroom was less tense, the lessons were still tough and demanding. Quite often, the students would leave the room with beads of sweat still shining on their foreheads, so much exertion was needed to truly succeed in that class. As well, the class was almost as dangerous as what the final task promised to be: on one very tense afternoon, Dean Thomas had nearly haemorrhaged to death when his partner Seamus's Blood-Thickening Charm was cast with a bit too much strength.

The students did learn a lot though, and by the time they had reached their second-last lesson, the course had traced its way through several categories of magic. All the while, their final task loomed like a date with a Death Eater.

First, they had tackled some more Dark creatures - they had covered them quite thoroughly in their third year with Professor Lupin, but Professor St.-Marie's very intensive course added a few extra creatures that Lupin had deemed to be too dangerous for third-years - most of them would have been carried to the hospital wing lacking several important organs if they had confronted such creatures.

Next, they had learned many useful spells for dealing with assorted beasts (after finishing that unit, the class had worked together to subdue an angry adolescent Hebridean Black dragon, and had left the class sporting faces covered by soot, instead of their normal sheen of sweat).

About three weeks of the rigorous course was spent learning jinxes and counter-jinxes, curses and counter-curses, and some very useful, but energy-sapping, one-time hexes. Students measured the speeds at which different hexes travelled, and even learned how to recognize them based on that, and other characteristics. None of the young wizards in the class could forget the time students were practicing dodging spells while still shooting off their own spells in response in a fluid movement. When it came to her turn to dodge the Stunner aimed at her, Pansy Parkinson had somehow thrown herself into a position which allowed everyone to view her pink thong under her sombre black robes - and she had failed to dodge the spell as well, so she was Stunned for several moments in that position. (Pansy maintained it was an accident, but either way, her pleased expression led many students to believe otherwise.) Leaving behind the subject of Pansy Parkinson, the course was so useful that even Harry Potter himself, informal master of Defence Against the Dark Arts, had learned dozens of useful spells.

The two months of courses ended with the Survival portion of the course. Students started off by learning handy navigation spells - Professor St.-Marie heavily emphasized the importance of the Object-Specific Four-Point Spell. Afterwards, Professor Snape took great delight in informing students that there would be a Potion-making component to this course: emergency potion-making. Students learned which plants and fungi could be used in a pinch to make quick, effective Restorative Draughts or Wound-Cleaning Potions, for example, and also learned how to fold tree-leaves into the shape of mini-cauldrons. As well, everyone learned how to make a fire manually, should they ever be wandless. The students from wizarding families were first taught how to use matches, and then everyone spent a few agonizing, back-breaking days bent over trying to make fire - using everything from flint to long rods of wood, and then, when everyone's palms were raw from rubbing their sticks of wood, Harry's glasses.

Finally, the last week was spent learning about the basics of Wizarding and Muggle Healing. Not only was everyone taught how to perform very useful healing spells such as Bone-Splinting Charms, they also learned how to give Muggle First-Aid.

Even Hermione was pleased by what she had learned. While some people like Malfoy scoffed at the obviously useless skills being taught - if some duffer ended up in a position where he needed to make a fire yet was wandless, well, then quite frankly, he should just die in the cold and rid the world of his stupidity! - others thought that the skills and spells taught in the course could prove to be useful someday.

As Professor St.-Marie stressed several times throughout the course, 'Even if you feel that this course was useless, well, who knows? I hope that you won't ever be in a situation where you need to dodge several curses being aimed at you by Dark Wizards and their ilk. But if fate puts you in conditions where you're in deadly need of these skills, well, then, I hope you paid careful attention to what I and Professor Snape taught you.'

Hermione noticed that Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered something quietly to Crabbe and Goyle, whose cinderblock faces both adopted the same blank looks. Two seconds later, they started chuckling in tandem. Unfortunately, Goyle's sniggers were just a bit too loud to be missed.

Professor St-Marie focused her eyes on him. They may have been covered by goggles, but this did not mean that they were any less piercing than Professor Snape's. 'Is there anything in particular that you are laughing about, Gregory?' The professor's voice gave no room for negotiation, and it was clear she was expecting an answer.

'Well, Professor,' Goyle said slowly and carefully, 'I was just wondering when we'd actually get to use these things we're doing here. You know?'

Professor Snape turned to look at Goyle. 'I believe that was highlighted at the beginning of the year, Mr Goyle. As I am quite certain I have stated before, I do not appreciate the paperwork associated with student deaths. I hope you did not forget everything else that you have picked up in this classroom.'

Goyle's dull eyes brightened a bit, and they quickly flicked over to Pansy Parkinson. 'No - yes - er -'

'Although I do not appreciate your wasting our time,' Professor Snape cut in, 'I suppose you have made a fair point. Now is the time to inform you about tomorrow's events. As you know, you will be completing this task with a partner. In the sake of inter-house cooperation, Dumbledore has suggested that each group should consist of a Slytherin and a Gryffindor.' He paused here, and glanced around the room, as if daring any student to groan out loud. Hearing no complaints - no student would ever groan in front of Snape; all complaints would certainly come later, when the students were a safe distance away from him - he continued. 'I have taken the liberty of creating the teams.' Without pausing, he started rattling off names. 'Potter, Malfoy. Brown, Parkinson ...' Pansy seemed to look crushed that she would not be spending two days alone in a forest with her Malfoy.

'...Granger, Bul- '

'You know, Severus,' St.-Marie cut in, 'I'm not sure exactly if this method that you used, deliberately choosing the partners, is the best method.'

Snape raised one eyebrow. 'Oh? And what might the esteemed Professor St.-Marie suggest in lieu of this? Please, educate me.' he said.

St.-Marie continued, seeming to ignore the sarcasm that had positively been oozing in Snape's response to her. 'I have this little belief, this little quirk I guess you could call it, where I believe in important events like these, it's best to let fate decide.'

There was another pause. Hearing no further complaint from Snape, St.-Marie took out an ordinary deck of Muggle playing cards. She shuffled them in front of the class. The cards formed a bridge between her hands. The images on the backside of the cards (magicked to show Hogwart's four houses) blended together, until colours like green and red became impossible to distinguish to the eyes, and incomprehensible to the brain.

'Oh, yes, these cards have all been bewitched to resist all of the devious charms that I know you students would try to use!' St-Marie said. She smiled slightly, and seemed to give the students a wink as she continued, 'So don't bother trying to use Switching or Cover-Up Spells. Don't try trading or destroying them, either. I've warded them to resist every spell cast by anyone but Professor Snape and myself. So here! Everyone pick a card! Your partner shall have the same number that you have, Clubs go with Diamonds, Spades with Hearts. So come on, now!' She smiled a wide smile, and looked genuinely excited as she awaited the formation of the new teams.

Feeling a slight bit of trepidation, Hermione Summoned a card, and she saw the other students doing the same. She looked at her playing card. The Ace of Hearts. All right. Quite frankly, she did not care whom she would be partnered up with. It would only be a couple of days, anyway. Hermione noticed that Malfoy, Harry, Pansy, and Lavender all looked very relieved to get a second chance to choose partners. No doubt they all figured that anyone else was better than their current partner.

Professor St.-Marie made sure everyone each clutched a playing card in their hand. Then, she started calling back her cards. 'Accio Ace of Clubs!' Ron's card zoomed out of his hand back into St.-Marie's hands. 'Accio Ace of Diamonds!' A card zoomed from the grasp of a disbelieving Pansy Parkinson.

'I'm with Worthless Weasley?' Pansy shrieked, the pitch of her voice rising higher with each syllable. The twisted grimace on Ron's mouth showed that just how pleased he was to be paired with Pansy.

Before Hermione could stop herself, she rolled her eyes.

Professor Snape winced as Pansy's voice reached a high G. 'Miss Parkinson, is it too much to ask for you to confine your histrionics to the corridors, or better yet, outside on the grounds,' he said, forgetting that she was a beloved Slytherin.

Now, Hermione started feeling a bit apprehensive. She supposed it would be all right if she was paired up with Neville, or Lavender, or any other Gryff-

'Accio Ace of Hearts!' Hermione felt a card leave her grip. Unconsciously, she felt her breath quicken in anticipation.

'Accio Ace of Spades!' A card zoomed back to the professor. But who did the card belong to?

Hermione searched frantically for the only other student in the room besides Ron, Pansy, and herself to be empty-handed.

And she found him. It was Malfoy. No, maybe he had his card somewhere else, maybe it was in his pocket, or up his sleeve ... it couldn't be him ... she could not possibly have been paired up by the fates with this arrogant, malicious arse-hole. Oh, no wonder why she had hated Divination so much! Put your fate in the hands of fate and this was the outcome!

The bell rang. Unbeknownst to her, all of the other students had found their partners. Some people looked relieved, like Seamus, for example, who had been paired up with Harry. Others looked either heart-broken or else enraged.

A voice behind her. 'Granger.' Even as Hermione was turning around, she knew who this voice belonged to.

'Malfoy,' she acknowledged between gritted teeth, inclining her head just a fraction of an inch. She was not pleased. It seemed he was not either. Hermione could see him sneering at her, but she knew that no matter what he was feeling about being her partner, it could not overcome her own anger and exasperation about being his.

Not wanting to stick around him for much longer, Hermione turned around and marched out the door. She shook her head angrily, realizing that she'd have to spend over 24 hours in close contact with this self-centred, nasty little wizard, with probably only a few Porlocks to distract her from him. Honestly! He was just so insufferable!

'So, who's your partner?' Ron asked Hermione carefully, not oblivious to her displeasure.

'Malfoy,' she replied listlessly.

Ron's eyes widened. 'What are you going to do about it?' Hearing no response, and seeing the same resigned look on Hermione's face, he burst out, 'You're not going to do anything about it? He could hex you! Or steal your memory and leave you alone in the forest! And he probably knows enough Dark Spells to Banish you all the way to Nepal! And you're not going to even -'

'Ron, calm down. He's my partner, and I'm stuck with him. I just want to get this task over with. I really don't care enough to go through all the trouble of taking it to Professor St.-Marie. And for your information, Banishing spells cast by a wizard of his magic level are impossible over such a long dist-'

'Well,' Harry interrupted, looking thoughtful, 'Ron might actually be right. With Voldemort out in the open, and his dad already in Azkaban, Malfoy's got nothing to lose if he wanted to get rid of you. He could even make it look like an accident.' Seeing Hermione open her mouth, he continued quickly, 'It's obvious that he's just biding his time. Why else has he not done anything to you since the first day of classes?'

This point was one that Hermione could not respond to. She furrowed her brow. Why hadn't he done anything else since the day she had humiliated him in the halls?

Ron gazed at her, looking uncharacteristically shrewd. 'And Professor St.-Marie is Muggle-born, so she'd probably understand if you went to her with these ideas.' Hearing no response, only seeing Hermione knit her brow slightly, he took the opportunity to grab her bag. He staggered under the weight of her textbooks and a few other books for "light" reading. 'Look, Hermione. We'll take your stuff, you can run back to DADA, Snape won't be in Potions for another twenty minutes or something. Just talk to her. You've got nothing to lose. See if you can switch partners with Pansy Parkinson or someone. Then everyone's happy.'

'Ron! Give me my bag!' Hermione was even more exasperated than she had been earlier. She, being the self-sufficient witch that she was, did not need anyone, least of all Ron or Harry, making decisions for her, or protecting her.

Ron dodged out of her way. His long legs carried him to the end of the hallway and around the corner in less than a second. 'Just ask her if you can switch with someone! You're not getting your bag back until you go!' His teasing smile couldn't hide the worry written on his face.

'Honestly! I'll talk to her. Are you happy now?' Hermione said, throwing up her hands in exasperation and whirling around to head back to the DADA classroom.

'Yes,' Ron replied, but Hermione did not hear.

* * * * *

This was really stupid. All right, it was Malfoy, and he was disgusting and arrogant and nasty, but Hermione really doubted that he would go to the extremes of hexing her in the middle of the forest. Plus, asking to change partners was almost admitting to Snape and St.-Marie that she couldn't handle some silly, self-centered, spoiled prat. But Ron had been so adamant about this for some reason, and she had told him she would ask.

Hermione headed for the door, keeping her head down. Lascaux's new book better be worth the trouble -

WHAM!

It was lucky that Hermione was not walking at a particularly high speed at the time. Instead of flying in some random direction and possibly splatting against the walls of the corridor, she merely fell forward. She tried to brace herself in what little time she had, but unexpectedly, she fell into something soft.

Phew! Better than getting knocked against the wall or something. Hermione looked up, and immediately changed her mind. She was currently pressed into the solar plexus of one Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy looked down. There was some witch pressed into his solar plexus. 'I would advise you not to go around attacking high-ranking Slytherin prefects and running into various parts of their body. Not only is it horribly humiliating for you, next time, it'll be assured that your House will...' His voice trailed off as the witch looked up.

Granger! It was that Granger again! Malfoy was not at all pleased to see her. After his several humiliations in front of her, back on the first day of classes, he had chosen to leave her alone. It was not that he was embarrassed, of course. Those little humiliations occurred ages ago. Granger had probably forgotten all about them. The fact of the matter was that Granger was simply not worth his time. He could not be bothered by her. It was not a matter of avoiding her; he simply did not care about her. Right. Absolutely.

But now, that she was here, he might as well take the opportunity to humiliate her, too. 'Granger. I should have expected it would be you to do something like this. Keeping your nose buried in those books sure does a lot for your coordination. Or did Weasley pass on his big feet and clumsiness to you? And here I thought Longbottom was bad! I'd hate to see what you're all like in your common room.'

Hermione looked at the textbooks and pieces of parchment scattered around the hallway. And to think that she was about to help him pick them up!

She stepped close to Malfoy, her blood boiling and her eyes flashing as she listened to him insult her friends. His proximity made it easy enough for her to discern the glitter in his eyes as well as the disdainful sneer on his face. Why was it that Malfoy seemed to be the only person she knew who could stare down at someone while keeping his chin raised impossibly high? 'If I recall correctly, Malfoy, it wasn't even two months ago when you happened to trip in the train compartment on the way to school, and fall spectacularly right in the middle of our compartment. If Gryffindor house really was the house of the klutzes, as you're implying, I'm really curious to know why you're not living up in Gryffindor tower with the rest of us so-called louts ... oh, I remember now. Because you lack morals, pride, and the ability to think for yourself. My mistake.'

Malfoy's eyes seemed to grow even colder than they were before. They resembled the clouds in the sky right before a lightning storm. Colour came into his light-coloured skin. He took a step towards Hermione, so that she could now see herself in his stormy eyes. In fact, he was so close that his nose would have touched hers if she leaned forwards just a few inches. 'You know nothing about morals and pride, Granger,' he hissed, looking positively venomous. 'You've never known what it's like, to try to maintain pride for something you believe in. You've been handed everything you've wanted, just because you're friends with Potter, and are in the house of stupid, reckless duffers whose actions get translated into "brave and selfless".'

Hermione put her hands on his chest, and pushed him away as hard as possible. 'Oh, just sod off, Malfoy!' she said angrily, as she stumbled back a few steps, letting some much needed distance fall between them.

Malfoy stumbled back a few steps, but refused to fall. For a second, Hermione thought that he would hex her, so furious did he look at that moment! She tensed up, and let her hand drift towards the direction of her wand as surreptitiously as possible.

'Don't bother, Granger,' Malfoy said, as she heard him take a few slow breaths. His voice sounded relatively controlled compared to her own, but his clenched hands gave him away. 'I have better things to do with my time than waste my breath attacking silly little Gryffindors.' And with that, he turned his back on her.

Hermione glared the back of his head. The nerve! The self-centered, arrogant arse! She was the one to be handed everything she wanted? And what about him and his sodding father who bullied everyone who got in the way of the Malfoy Machine? She bit back the exclamation about to slide off the tip of her tongue - it would not do to have herself lose even more control in front of the egocentric prat.

Hermione watched as Malfoy Summoned the school books that littered the corridor back to his arms. She grappled with the idea of telling him off for performing magic in the corridors. Before she decided not to - somehow, even under the circumstances, docking points for such an infraction seemed rather petty - he left without another glance, in the opposite direction that he was heading in when he collided with her. What had he been meaning to do before they had run into each other?

Hermione leaned against the wall as Ron's words of warning came floating back to her. She knew what she had been meaning to do, in any case. After this, she was sure the only reason why both of them escaped this confrontation without hex-marks all over their bodies was because they were within the school walls. Plus, hexing Malfoy would put a black spot next to her name of the list of Head Girl candidates, and she was sure Malfoy was not willing to sacrifice his chance to be Head Boy for a single curse either.

She sighed. Even after this confrontation, which showed just how much acrimony was between herself and Malfoy, she still felt reluctant to ask St.-Marie for a switch in partners. She did not want to admit that she could not put up with a simple, self-centred, ferrety little wizard. It was only the worried expression on her friends' faces that kept her from backing out of her pledge to speak to the professor. And indeed, she should hurry it soon, before Potions started.

She opened the door, and stepped inside the classroom. It was completely empty. All right, so the Professor was in the office. Hermione walked past the heavy, locked-up, wooden desk in the center of the room to the office, located in the right-hand corner of the classroom. Hermione knocked gently on the thick office door. No response. Perhaps St.-Marie wasn't there? She should check anyway. Hermione opened the door slowly.

There was Professor St.-Marie and there was ... Professor Snape?!

In one second, her wide eyes took in the whole tableau. Her well-reputed brain, normally so sharp and quick-thinking, ceased to function for a short moment, so astonishing and contradictory were the sensory inputs being keyed into her brain.

Hermione had seen the interior of the Defence Against the Dark Arts office a few times throughout her years at Hogwarts. It usually looked very polished and clean and formal, with its mahogany bookshelves and dark green carpets on top of hardwood floorboards. However, at the moment, it did not resemble in the slightest the DADA classroom Hermione had seen in the past. There was something occurring in the center of the classroom that threw Hermione's image of the formal-looking room into disarray.

They were both leaning against a desk, panting heavily. St.-Marie had her hand resting at the base of Snape's back. Her face was flushed, as flushed as it had looked right after she had been catapulted through the window of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom at the beginning of the year. The muscles in Snape's back could be seen through his thin, black shirt, as he bent over, both hands resting on the desk. His hair hung down in front of his face, waving slightly in the same rhythm as his inhalations and exhalations.

Right now, only the outer robes of Snape and St.-Marie were discarded. They were tossed haphazardly in a jumbled heap on the polished, hardwood floor. Professor St.-Marie's goggles could be seen teetering precariously at the top of the pile of clothes. Hermione fleetingly thanked the powers that be that she had not walked in when all of her professors' clothes were shed.

Under the circumstances, it was quite a surprise that Hermione had not gasped out loud. All right. Hermione's brain began to whir into action again. Now that she had gotten over the surprise, she'd just back out of the classroom slowly and carefully. They would not see her. They would not be aware that someone had observed their ... intimate interactions.

She began to carry out her action plan. She took one step away from the office door, one step closer towards the exit of the room ... and one step right into the jagged corner of a student's desk.

Agony! Pain radiated from the spot on her lower back that had come in contact with the desk. Even worse than the pain, though, was the fact that Hermione had failed to conceal her gasp of surprise and pain. Damn!

Damn indeed! The panting of both the professors had dwindled to the point where it could not cover up Hermione's loud intake of breath.

'There's someone there!' Snape said. The tension in his voice was evident.

'There's no one there,' St.-Marie said tiredly. 'But quite frankly, I -'

Snape had gotten up. 'You're much too trusting. You wouldn't have lasted a day in Slytherin. The door is open.'

The soft thud of Snape's boots became louder and louder as he drew closer and closer. What was Hermione going to do? She scanned the room quickly. The door was too far away! Where else - the professor's desk in the center of the class! She dashed over to it on the points of her feet. She bent over. Was there enough space for her to fit underneath?

The steps were coming closer and closer. Well, there was no other option now. She circled around to the side of the desk farthest away from the office door. She lowered herself onto her back. She propelled herself along the ground with her arms, and slithered under the desk feet-first, as quickly as possible.

Hermione felt a puff of wind that could only signal the door opening. Come on ... her feet were now hidden, her legs ... the door was completely open. She could hear Snape's footsteps heading towards the center of the class. Her upper body had yet to fit under the desk! She tried to wriggle farther under the desk. Her navel, her arms ... her whole body was almost completely hidden.

She heard Snape pacing up and down the rows of desks. She imagined he was looking suspiciously into every nook and cranny of the classroom. He was nearing the end of the row. He was drawing nearer. Hermione kept squeezing under the desk. Would she make it?

Snape was definitely coming closer. Hermione managed to wriggle under the desk until only her head was exposed. Her head. Her fingernails scrabbled along the stone ground as she tried in vain to fit her head under the desk. No! Her chin was in the way!

Snape was done touring the classroom. He walked towards the desk in the center of the room. He was coming closer. And closer. No, too close. Much too close. Hermione felt Snape's boot lightly touch her feet as he paused at the end of the desk, opposite to where her head was. A shiver ran through her body and she tried not to flinch.

Snape was walking behind the desk. He was coming to where her head was protruding out from under the cramped space under the desk. His steps, which before were quiet thuds, were now close enough for Hermione to hear the quiet creak of dragonhide. She turned her head sideways. Perhaps she could manage to fit under this way. Slowly ... It was working. She tried to squeeze her head under even more ... no. Her head didn't fit. The space under the desk was too small!

One of Snape's boots came into her limited field of vision. It was black, and despite being made of tough, leather-like dragonhide material, she could see a small hole forming in the toe. Snape was standing right above her! Hermione gritted her teeth. If his dark eyes darted a few more inches to the right, then he would see her pale, frightened face mashed in between the floor and the desk.

There was an infinitesimally long pause. Hermione tried to hold her breath. Why wasn't Snape moving away? Hermione stared at the little hole in his boot, willing it and its owner to move away from her as soon as possible. Go back into the office. Please, go.

Finally, Snape took a step back. The dragonhide boot was lost from view. Then, Hermione heard Snape's retreating footsteps. If she had not been on the floor already, Hermione would have collapsed in relief.

'Severus, are you really that bothered by what we're doing?' St.-Marie asked in an edgy voice, while leaning against the doorjamb of the office.

Hermione flinched. No, Hermione was not so surprised anymore, but to hear the affirmation of her suspicions come straight from the professor's mouth ... it only served to make the fact that Hermione had walked in on her professors in the middle of a very personal activity seem more real.

'No.' Snape's voice sounded strained, and even a bit harsh. 'I really cannot comprehend why you would be so ridiculous in jumping to such a conclusion, in true Gryffindor fashion. I'm not bothered at all. It's perfectly acceptable for us to ... do this.'

'Then why are you being so paranoid? It's obvious -'

'What is obvious? I have no idea what you are talking about, and your ludicrous assumptions convince me that you have no real indication of anything as well. Spare me your laughable imitation of that Muggle, Sherlock Holmes.'

'Don't talk to me in that tone of voice, when I know full well you are hiding something. Why do you keep over-reacting? Why are you so afraid?'

'I am not afraid of anything! Must I state everything to satisfy the whims of your curiosity? We can still go ahead and ... do this without your inane meddling. I am not afraid - it is merely the fact that I ... I've -'

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to cover her ears, but her hands were trapped under the desk. Oh, if only they would go and ... do something so she could just leave. She did not want to intrude anymore than she already had.

'I've only done this once before. With one other person ... and the outcome was one that I do not care to repeat anymore.'

'Who? Why not? What happened? How does this affect ...?' Professor St.-Marie's voice trailed off. She seemed to be waiting for an answer. So was Hermione, despite her wish to leave none the wiser to this conversation. She stared up at the ceiling, wedged under the desk, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for Snape's reply.

And what a reply it was. Hermione's eyes flew open with shock and disbelief as she heard Snape snap, 'Will this finally satisfy you? It was with Harry Potter!'