Unlikely is an Understatement

Miss Granger,

Upon evaluation of the results of your review, I have found it advisable that you indeed be allowed to design and teach your own curriculum. However your teachings will be subject to my scrutiny.

Severus Snape

Hermione nobly refrained from waving the note about in the air in triumph. Down table from the gleeful girl, Severus Snape was making a very thorough inspection of his eggs. He was, overall, in two minds about the situation, the first one being spitting mad that he'd let her win, the second in a state of near dread.

This was occasioned by the fact that it was Saturday morning. There were, of course, many reasons why Saturdays should provoke a sense of horror: students wandering the castle unchecked, gossipy teachers with free afternoons, etc. More importantly, at least to Severus, was the fact that there were two teachers who did not have free afternoons, who spent their entire weekends researching. And he'd purloined a set of their lab notes. From the half of this pair whom was most likely to shove her wand so far down his throat and cast -

That didn't bear thinking about.

Especially not at breakfast.

He stormed from the Great Hall as soon as politeness would allow, not noting the smirks of two girls watching his retreat. Wreneth looked like the cat who'd caught the canary, teeth bared in a manic grin.

"He's having fits over this. Nicely done, Hermione. Nicely done," Wreneth said approvingly. She poked her friend lightly in the ribs, redirecting her attention to the notes they'd been perusing before the interruption of the owl.

"Good morning, ladies," said Bill cheerily as he settled down in the empty chair beside Hermione and began filling a plate. The girls mumbled a vague good-morning/hello, still wrapped intently in their work.

"What are you planning for today?" he ventured a little while later, having been content with the silence while he was eating.

"Mmm...research," Hermione replied around a mouth of pancake. "Oh...well, how about using that as the reactant?" She stabbed her fork at the notation in emphasis, drops of syrup dripping onto the page.

"No, no good. You can't get enough power from it. The reaction's too slow...and watch out, your dripping!" Wreneth mumbled in response. Slowly, Bill reached his hand around Hermione...

"I still think you could use it."

A couple more inches...

"Time elapsed is too long!"

A whisper of paper on his fingers...

"Well, how about adding more?"

Ah, a corner.

"HEY!" Twin female voices rose in irritation at a grinning Bill Weasley. He held the sheaf of papers above his head, and jiggled them meaningfully.

"You two need a break. You've spent every weekend previous working on this project. One Saturday off won't hurt you," he tried to reason, emphasizing his point by dangling the precious notes over an open bowl of pudding.

"Fine, fine," Hermione jumped in holding up her hands in resignation. "We can afford one day off," she reassured Wreneth over her shoulder. "When and where and what?"

"Entrance hall, thirty minutes, it's a surprise," Bill fired back, smiling, as he left the table.

"Let's go. We might as well make an effort to enjoy it, if we have to do this," Wreneth grumbled, stalking off in the opposite direction. Then turned around, realizing there was only one door out of the hall.

Thirty minutes later found the two girls waiting before the front door, Hermione tapping her foot agitatedly and Wreneth pacing, looking occasionally at a watch she wasn't wearing. Bill appeared moments later, hands shoved into his pockets, even whistling. That was stopped promptly by the dual glares shot his way. Burying a laugh, he headed through the doors and down across the lawns. Mostly out of curiosity, the girls followed him. For a little over a mile they walked in companionable silence; the light breeze and green fields even got to Wreneth. All bad temper evaporated in the sunshine.

Bill halted in a small valley, halfway around the castle and near onto the Forbidden Forest. From his pocket he took a handkerchief, and a tiny basket. An enlargement spell later, and they were ready for a picnic. Blackberry pie, warm veggie pasties, fresh apples, and lots of cold pumpkin juice were laid out on the handkerchief-turned-blanket. Munching sounds joined the soft twitter of birds and buzz of insects.

"So, how long have you been planning this for?" Hermione asked around a mouthful of apple.

"This specifically, about ten minutes into breakfast. Kidnapping you from research in general, about two weeks. You girls left me no choice," Bill replied, and proceeded to stretch out full length on his back in the grass.

"Is that so?" Wreneth snapped, though the bit in her words was mellowed.

"Tis. Since we arrived I've spent my weekends in my room, actually grading papers."

"You're the DADA professor! How many papers can you possibly have? Unless you're Son of Umbridge!"

"Thankfully, no," Bill answered, shuddering. "I've had to assign more papers just to give myself something to do!"

"Must this conversation revolve exclusively around exclamation points?" Wreneth drawled from across the blanket, where she was slowly sliding onto her back.

"Would you prefer semicolons?"

"I, for one, would prefer a nap," Bill opined, and followed by promptly snapping his eyes closed. The three sat in silence for a while, Hermione humming softly to herself and fiddling with sticks of grass while Wreneth lay still, but awake, contemplating the clouds. After awhile Bill's breathing became deep and even in the way of all sleeper's. Swiftly Wreneth leapt up and stalked over to the forest edge, returning with a long fern frond in hand. Hermione grasped her meaning instantly, and, in a fit of childishness, grabbed her own.

On either side of Bill they sat, and lifted their ferns-turned-tools-of-torture. Together they began on his arms, dragging the leaves lightly over his skin, teasing gently. Slight twitches and shifts in the positions of his arms were their reward. Wreneth began then, working her way meticulously, first along his neck, then to his jaw line, and up around to his face. Bill's head would shake and flick and twitch in it's efforts to dodge the tickler, sometimes causing individual muscles in his face to spasm. Hermione continued idly switching her fern along the soft skin on the underside of his forearm, exposed by a sudden change in position.

One particularly swift jerk brought Bill into an upright position, one arm wrapped around Wreneth's waist, while the other hand had found her wrist and the offending fern. He released her just as quickly, and turned on Hermione, tickling her mercilessly until she was gasping for air between giggles. Wreneth wasted no time in launching herself at Bill in a classic football tackle, knocking all three into a messy, giggling pig-pile.

Severus Snape was prowling his office. If he were truthful with himself, he would admit that he was hiding. As it was, he was pacing before the fireplace, reassuring himself that he was in the right, and darting into the closet-lab whenever he thought he heard someone at the door. Minerva had been the only one presumptuous enough to actually enter his quarters without being acknowledged first; any other possible visitors had left after an initial knock. He believed (read: prayed) that Granger had been among these.

Minerva had taken up a precious half-hour upon her visit. He hadn't actually listened to her babbling; something about Gryffindor quidditch, and a live flobberworm left in someone's locker, suspicions of Slytherin, etc. However, it had given him an excuse to lock the door (against possible student eavesdropping, he'd told her), and for that the woman could give out as many detentions as she wanted.

Now it was falling close upon dinnertime, and a hard day's work of hiding would be wasted if he went to the meal. The Granger chit would no doubt corner him, or set the other harpy on him, before they got round to desert. Shame that, as he had been rather looking forward to the bread pudding. It was his duty, though, as Headmaster to preside over meals.

Snape left his office late, measuring his steps to arrive just before the first course appeared. He was desirous of spending as little time as possible in the Hall, and making as little idle chatter with his colleagues as possible. Especially since a good portion of it would, as it had every Saturday evening since September, dwell upon the current events in the Granger-Proctor lab. Sweet agony, he thought, sneer rising to his lips as he entered the hall. Indeed, he could hear Minerva even now launching into it.

"And how have you progressed today, m'dears?" she asked, pouring herself a cup of tea. Snape's sneer intensified as he sat, and was greeted with curt nods and glances all around. Granger refused to even recognize him. Promising sign, that.

"Actually, we weren't in the lab today," Wreneth answered, entirely too cheerily. "We played hooky with Bill, went for a picnic."

"Had to get them out in the fresh air, y'know. Wouldn't want them to wither away in those dungeons," Weasley piped in, throwing one arm around the back of Granger's chair while the other shuttled chicken bits between plate and mouth. Horrible spectacle, but Snape did owe him favor distracting the beasts.

"It did us a good turn, for certain," Hermione added. She looked rather healthier for having some outdoor exercise. Not quite so much like a zombie librarian, Snape noted. He began to shovel away his own chicken at a healthy clip. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough on chewing, he wouldn't have to hear every excruciating detail of the outing. Ah, no such luck.

"Well, it really was the most fabulous lunch. Bill even admitted to having made one of the pies. Not without a good deal of prodding of course," Granger continued. Her grin suggested that any prodding undertaken had been a less than torturous experience for all involved. Bloody twenty-somethings. Bad as the teens when it came to hormones. It was with only a very small pang of regret that he eschewed desert in favor of a dignified retreat.

Settled in his favorite chair with a snifter of brandy by his side and the infamous cribbed lab notes, Snape was far more comfortable. He had already changed into nightclothes, and was ready to relax and slough off a good deal of the tension he'd been carrying about all day. It would of course return tomorrow with the continuation of the Will She Won't She Notice game, but for a scant twelve hours, he could rest.

Ah, no such luck.

The door burst open to slam against the far wall, Wreneth posed dramatically in the frame. Behind her, he could see the Granger girl, not quite as enthusiastic.

"May I ask why you are intruding upon my chambers at this hour of the night?" he asked frigidly. The girls entered, one sauntering while the other settled for a more sedate stride. Both were seated without invitation before he could protest.

"What do you mean this hour of the night? It's barely eight Severus. Hardly bedtime, even for folk as old as you," Wreneth replied airily, summoning a cup and conjuring the coffee to fill it. She tasted it and grimaced.

"You know conjured comestibles are vile," Hermione admonished gently. Snape swallowed his own response, glad for once he'd been slow to speak.

"Regardless the hour, why are you here? It's highly rude to burst in without invitation. I would expect better of you two," he snapped, and sipped at the brandy. Carefully he began to edge the notes toward the end table, where they would be safely out of sight.

"Just wanted to have a chat, commend you for your gracious acceptance of defeat, break bread in peace, share a cuppa as friends," Wreneth drawled. Obviously she was in high spirits tonight, practically giddy.

"Do stop trying to be English, Wreneth. It only makes your vulgar Americanism more glaringly obvious."

"Spoil-sport. If that's how you're going to be - Hermione wanted you to look over some of her curriculum. Lord knows why," she said, and settled into her chair with a frown. Snape turned his glare onto the other girl.

"Is this true?"

"Oddly enough, yes," she replied, and extended a sheaf of papers towards him. Ah, the moment of truth: take the thinly disguised peace offering and be respectably civil to the girl, or refuse and have Wreneth surreptitiously set his things on fire for the next week. With a scowl he snatched up the papers; sometimes it was wiser to give a little than to spend a week finding charred bits all over the office.

Aforementioned scowl securely fixed on his face, he began to read the curriculum in earnest. It was, he had to admit, quite comprehensive and instructive. Give her a few years and Hogwarts would no doubt see OWLs and NEWTs of Hermione's own caliber, and from more than just the one or two outstanding students. He reached for the end table, searching for a quill. She had good ideas, indeed, but just a few corrections were needed to avoid the traps new teachers tended to fall into. Especially when they were young. He knew, he'd experienced them all. No quill nearby; a summoning spell later he was scribbling away busily at the parchments.

Life is full of small catastrophes, tiny accidents. They make life a little difficult, but tend to be nothing more than an annoyance. Then there are times when the small catastrophes coincide, and suddenly, big catastrophes are born.

Snape did not notice that Hermione had pulled her chair closer to try and see what he was writing. Which allowed Hermione to notice that Snape had been reading something when they'd burst in, and it was now lying in his lap.

Nor did Snape notice that Wreneth, after exhausting every possible permutation of single-player I Spy, had begun to wander around his office and explore. Wreneth, however, had taken notice of the small lab tucked away in the back.

Snape had also forgotten that and experiment he had put on to heat three days ago had reached its time, and indeed, passed it over two hours ago.

Wreneth peeked her head into the lab.

"Severus, I think your experiment's going to go Mt. Etna!"

"What?" he barked, jerking his head up from Hermione's notes in time to see Wreneth disappear into the lab. "Don't go in there, you daft cow!" he shouted, and leapt from his chair, realizing belatedly that the experiment was overcooked.

Both the syllabus and the research notes spilled to the floor.

Hermione leant forward to clean them up. Least she could do considering the circumstances.

BOOM!

That notation wasn't one from her syllabus. And that procedure was far to advanced for her classes. In fact...

Snape appeared again, dragging Wreneth from the lab. Both were a little singed, and covered in what appeared to be vanilla pudding.

Hermione stood in the middle of his office, papers clutched in her hands. A look of fury that would have sent Winston Churchill running for cover graced her face.

"SEVERUS SNAPE! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"