Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Hermione Granger Severus Snape
Genres:
General Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 10/03/2003
Updated: 10/17/2003
Words: 94,798
Chapters: 20
Hits: 77,297

Ordinary People

Hayseed

Story Summary:
How do ordinary people cope with their extraordinary circumstances? A SS/HG romance that strives for realism.

Chapter 10

Posted:
10/09/2003
Hits:
3,699

Romancing the mundane---

Severus sat at the breakfast table as impassively as he was able. He'd had a perfect moment last night, and not even Dumbledore himself was going to ruin that. He could survive indefinitely on that one memory. Although, if he was honest with himself, he would rather not have to.

Of course, right on the heels of their perfect moment came the realization that he and Hermione were either the most boring people in the universe or the most obsessive. They'd turned to work last night after all--Hermione pouring over her monk's thesis as Severus finished grading the third-years' essays. He hated to take an entire night away from their research but he'd been putting off those essays for more than a week.

Of course, Hermione had given him another sweet little kiss as she'd departed that night--that was certainly new and most definitely welcome.

Pouring himself another cup of tea, Severus stirred it thoughtfully, not noticing as Minerva McGonagall seated herself on his immediate right. "Good morning, Severus," she said drowsily, stifling a yawn.

"Good morning, Minerva," he dutifully replied, sipping at his scalding tea.

She regarded him with raised eyebrows. "Great Merlin, Severus, you sound very nearly chipper today. Did you poison a small child or something?"

Giving her a withering gaze, Severus took another sip of tea. "Hardly."

"Because I do believe Albus would dismiss you over that," she continued blithely.

"In fact, Minerva, I seem to recall Albus mentioning that as he offered me the job. It may even be in my contract somewhere," he said with a smirk, flipping a lock of hair out of his eyes.

Her eyes widened nearly imperceptibly.

Severus sighed. "Minerva, I believe that every single one of my pithy remarks are quite lost on you."

"Pithy, eh?"

"Gryffindors have absolutely no sense of irony," Severus said with another long-suffering sigh.

"You are in a good mood today, aren't you?" McGonagall said by way of reply, finally pouring her own tea.

Choosing not to respond, Severus buried his nose in his teacup once more. They remained blissfully silent for nearly ten minutes. But the peace was interrupted as someone seated himself at Severus' left elbow. "Ah, Good morning, Severus. Minerva," Albus Dumbledore said with a pleasant nod.

"Morning, Albus," McGonagall replied. Severus just grunted.

"And I see that Severus is his usual sociable self," Dumbledore continued mildly, helping himself to tea and toast.

Scowling, Severus regarded the dregs of his tea with intense interest. "Actually, Albus, I am simply unwilling to allow you to spoil my rather pleasant morning."

Dumbledore blinked, hand outstretched toward the butter dish. "Spoil?" he echoed.

"You know what I mean, you wretched old goat," Severus grumbled. "Prodding and poking your nose in where it's best left out. Meddling. The last time I actually permitted myself to 'chat' with you, I wound up being talked into dueling that ridiculous Lockhart in front of most of the student body. You're not going to saddle me with your dirty work today just because I happen to be currently content with my lot in life."

"That's hardly fair, Severus," he chided, spooning raspberry jam on his now buttered toast. "Although now that you mention it, we need to start doubling the patrol numbers and I need someone for this evening around ten." Somehow Dumbledore made the drippy piece of toast disappear into his mouth without getting a drop of the mess on his beard.

The scowl deepened. "Albus, you've illustrated my point perfectly. No."

"Just for five hours or so," he continued as if Severus hadn't spoken.

"No. I have alternate plans." To drive the point home, Severus crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Dumbledore meaningfully.

McGonagall was amazed. "Alternate plans? Great Merlin, you must be absolutely swamped with marking if you're turning down the chance to put it off."

Severus remained silent. Let them think what they would.

"Although," McGonagall said thoughtfully, answering her own unspoken question, "as I've heard from my students, you've been assigning your seventh years weekly essays and your fifth years not too far off from that, so I shouldn't be surprised. You reap what you sow, Severus."

"If I recall my seventh year as a Transfigurations student correctly, you assigned biweekly fifteen foot essays, Minerva," he replied dryly. "Is that still the case? My, you must have a fair amount of marking yourself."

Frowning, McGonagall fell silent and Severus gave himself a mental point in his running tally. She couldn't reply to that without falling to petty insults. Good.

"Well, then," Dumbledore said into the resultant quiet, "if I can't find someone to patrol, I suppose I'll have to do it myself." He began preparing another piece of toast.

"Reverse psychology will get you nowhere, Albus," Severus snapped. His eyes widened as he watched Dumbledore continue his breakfast. "Are you putting bacon on that?" he asked incredulously.

"What?" Dumbledore looked down at his horrific sandwich innocently. Bacon, butter, clotted cream, and raspberry jam between two slices of toast. "I've found it to be an appealing combination."

Looking at the headmaster's breakfast plate, McGonagall's face was contorted with disgust. "Your cholesterol must be astronomical," Severus commented dryly.

"At a fairly robust one-hundred-forty-six, I prefer to simply enjoy my life and ignore its trappings," he replied mildly, taking a rather large bite of his sandwich and again somehow managing to keep his beard clean.

Her nose wrinkling as he continued to eat, McGonagall pushed her plate to one side. "I think I'm finished. Good day, gentlemen." With that parting note, she pushed her chair back and fled from the table with nary a backward glance.

"You'd serve rare steak to a vegetarian, wouldn't you?" Severus asked Dumbledore.

"I've always found Minerva and her dry toast rather amusing," Dumbledore admitted. "But really, this is quite tasty--you should try it some time."

He held up a single hand in protest. "No thank you, Albus. I believe I'll let you keep such delicacies to yourself. Is there any more tea?"

"Certainly." Dumbledore passed over the pot and watched intently as Severus poured himself another cup. "Severus, are you sure I can't convince you about tonight?"

With a sigh, Severus stirred his tea. "As I've said before, Albus, I have a previous commitment. And besides, isn't five hours a bit ... excessive? Patrols are normally in two hour shifts."

"There are considerable concerns about Voldemort himself trying to enter Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied gravely. "It is, after all--"

"Yes, yes, Harry Potter's seventh year. The Day of Reckoning approaches and whatnot," Severus said in a bored tone. "But I seriously doubt Voldemort would try to breach Hogwarts himself. It is more likely that he would send people in to take Potter out."

Dumbledore finally shoved his plate away, and Severus rolled his eyes a bit in relief. The headmaster folded his hands under his chin and regarded him carefully. "His earlier attempt this year was, if I recall, foiled, and Voldemort may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. No ... he will have something else up his sleeve."

"He's also prideful," Severus argued. "He has come to believe in his own invincibility."

"True," he agreed. "And that can only be to young Harry's advantage."

Severus frowned. "You're really placing all of your hopes on the shoulders of a child, aren't you? You haven't even tried to deal with You-Know-Who offensively." He almost felt sorry for Potter. Almost.

"It has been prophesied," Dumbledore said solemnly. "And besides, you know as well as I do that our offensive tactics during Voldemort's first uprising only left us with more casualties." He sipped serenely at his tea.

Shrugging, Severus decided to remain silent. This was not a debate he could win, and truth be told, it was not really a debate he wanted to win. It was cruel and it was manipulative, but in many ways, Dumbledore was right. The battle between Potter and Voldemort was a matter of prophecy. But it felt wrong to abandon a seventeen-year-old boy to such a fate, all personal feelings aside. "I think, Albus," he finally said, "that I'm going to take my leave on that lovely note. My students have, after all, proven to be incapable of teaching themselves. Good day."

"Heavens, an almost pleasant dismissal from Severus Snape," Dumbledore replied, uncharacteristically sarcastic. "I must note this in my diary."

"You're an evil old man who I hope burns in hell," he said with a smirk, chair scraping against the flagstones as he stood. "Does that make you feel better, Albus?"

"Oddly, yes."

----------

Hermione regarded herself critically in the mirror, trying to see if anything had changed drastically. Nope ... the same average face that she'd been accustomed to her entire life stared back at her. Aside from the secretive smile, nothing was new. If anything, her hair was a bit more frizzy today and she spied a darkening mark on her chin that looked suspiciously like a developing pimple.

Poking a bit at said spot, Hermione hoped maybe it would fade away instead--she had been uncharacteristically lucky as of late. Although she still wondered what it was Severus saw in her that she didn't. Somehow it mattered less today than it did yesterday.

And she'd kissed him not once but twice, and he hadn't run off or laughed at her or anything. Who would have thought she could feel this way about Severus, of all people? Warm and cold at the same time and trembly on top of it.

If she gave it much thought, Hermione knew she was in a fair way of falling in love with Severus Snape, and the more she considered it, the happier it made her. He was cynical and intelligent and hawkish.

And somehow he was her perfect match, and she was already having a hard time picturing her existence without him in it. Hermione wondered vaguely how he felt about the situation, but she knew she would never be brave enough to actually ask him.

Hermione snorted a bit, turning away from her reflection and gathering her papers in preparation for her nightly meeting in Severus' office. One night, two kisses and she was already acting like a lovesick fool, like one of those soppy girls from the romance novels routinely making the rounds among the majority of the female population of Gryffindor Tower (and not a few boys, although they would rather have died than admit it).

Trying to picture her situation in that light, Hermione chuckled to herself at the thought. Not-Beauty and her Not-Beast. Hermione, Plain and Of Average Height.

Ordinary people made poor fairy tales. Well, poor titles at the very least.

But she didn't mind. She didn't need a fairy tale. Fairy tales were for 'chosen' people like Harry Potter and 'pretty' people like Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley. If pressed, she would confess that she didn't even want a fairy tale. They were often messy and filled with an angst that the happy endings generally didn't compensate for.

She walked down to the dungeons in a dreamy sort of state. Hermione caught herself with a start--she was mooning and that wouldn't do at all. An odd sort of thrill went through her as she saw the light shining from under Severus' office door; she quashed it brutally and gave the door three smart taps.

"Enter," came Severus' muffled call.

He was sitting behind his desk, writing on something that looked suspiciously like one of the seventh year essays he'd asked for two weeks ago. It took him a few moments to glance up at her.

"You're late," he said with a brief smile. "I ought to take points."

"Go right ahead," Hermione replied lightly, perching herself on one desk edge and letting her feet dangle. "I know I need at least a dozen new blood samples for this coming week, since we've had such a promising breakthrough. I even brought some syringes with me." She gave him a bright smile.

Laying down his quill and rolling the parchment he'd been writing on back up, Severus gave her a long-suffering look. "Take your own, then," he said. "I've made my contribution to the cause. Anyway, I thought you wanted to continue Josephus tonight."

"Oh, I finished him up at lunch today," she said, fishing through her stack of papers to come up with the appropriate pages. "He was mostly useless--more about his 'holy visions' than anything else. Although I now feel properly enlightened about the exact size of the archangel Michael's spear--he wrote at least two thousand words on that alone. Would you care to read it? Although, I confess my notes are rather poor."

"And make copious use of words such as 'rubbish' and 'moronic,' I see," Severus said dryly, flicking through her parchment. "It's nice to see such unbiased research."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "This from a man who openly refers to his students as 'dunderheads' and 'bunglers?'"

"I was thinking," Severus said, ignoring her and changing the subject completely. "I seem to recall a medieval transcript of old Claudius Iustus' research notes in the Restricted Section. It might be of some use--he was rather interested in entrapment charms. A bit like your Delacroix, I would imagine."

Intrigued, Hermione leaned closer. "Claudius Iustus? That name is only vaguely familiar."

"Oh good," he replied dryly. "I do enjoy the opportunity to hold a bit of knowledge over your head." She looked at him for a few silent moments--finally, he relented. "Oh, all right. Iustus was an old Roman wizard--pre-Empire, if I recall. One of the worst Claudians, if the stories are to be believed. But he left a journal and it managed to survive through the years. I've never read it myself, but there are a few dozen copies still floating around, and I dimly recollect Albus acquiring one some years ago. He likes to hoard Dark manuscripts in Hogwarts so that they're fairly inaccessible; there are restricted parts of the Restricted Section, you know."

"Sounds promising," she said. "Although it doesn't sound like we could just walk up to the desk and ask Madam Pince for it."

Severus shook his head. "She wouldn't even hand it over to a professor without an excellent explanation, which I'm afraid we don't have."

"No, probably not," she agreed. "But I would like to have a look," she continued wistfully. "Perhaps we could ...?"

Hermione almost believed the shock written on his face until she saw the twinkle in his eyes. "Why, Miss Granger, are you suggesting that we steal the manuscript?" he asked playfully.

"I would prefer the word 'borrow,'" she replied with a grin. "But in essence, yes. We've 'borrowed' practically everything else we're using in our research--what's a scroll or two of parchment, all things considered?"

"You're becoming a regular little larcenist," Severus said fondly, chuckling. "Shall we?"

On impulse, Hermione placed her hand in his outstretched fingers instead of merely following him. Severus said nothing about it, but his hand closed firmly around hers, and he placed a quick Concealment Charm over them both.

"I don't happen to own an Invisibility Cloak," he answered to her questioning look. "And it would have been a tight fit between us in any case. This is easier."

And he did not let go of her hand.

Curfew had passed--it was barely nine o'clock--and the corridors were eerily deserted. Soon enough, they were standing in front of the closed library doors, having encountered no one on their path. Slowly, quietly, Severus pushed one of the doors open, slipping hastily through it and pulling Hermione behind him. As soon as the door clicked shut once more, Hermione let out a deep breath and Severus dropped their Concealment Charms with a single word.

"Where would it be?" she asked.

"Most of those documents are kept in a warded room behind the Restricted Section. Most students don't even know it's back there," he replied. "Fortunately, Albus gave out the newest passwords at our last faculty meeting. It won't be difficult to get in. It will, however, probably be difficult to find the actual manuscript--Madam Pince doesn't handle the cataloging back there."

They crept through the library as if someone was watching their every move, despite the fact that both Hermione and Severus knew very well they were completely alone. Severus stopped in front of a blank part of wall in the Restricted Section. Apparently, this was it.

"I love fluffy, fuzzy bunnies," he said reluctantly. "What?" he asked a shocked Hermione, feigning innocence. "It's not something someone would idly say as they were walking through this part of the library. Besides, Albus sets the password."

"That might have been the most disturbing thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth," she told him seriously. "But I don't think it was the passcode."

He regarded her with curiosity. "The door's open, isn't it?"

Looking closely at the wall, Hermione frowned. "It's just a blank wall, Severus."

To her surprise, he laughed, letting go of her hand. "I forget sometimes that I generally don't give Albus nearly the credit he deserves," he explained. "Only professors can see the entrance. I assure you, it's wide open. Walk through it if you don't believe me."

With a raised eyebrow, Hermione took a cautious step forward. "I don't like this," she said. Another step and she was near enough to reach a hand out and poke at the firm stones. They were cool beneath her fingers. "Severus," she exclaimed, exasperated. "What are you playing at? This is just a wall."

Severus looked surprised at her statement. "Hermione, I promise ... look ..." He approached the wall himself, stretching a hand toward the stones and then casually through them--her mouth fell open. "Perhaps the wards are permanent for students," he said thoughtfully. "I guess I've got to go in alone."

"Maybe," she agreed faintly, disconcerted by the sight of Severus' hand halfway into the solid wall.

With an apologetic look, Severus slipped through the wall entirely--Hermione shuddered but didn't think he noticed. "Can you hear me, Hermione?" he asked, muffled.

"More or less," she replied, pressing her ear against the rock.

"It looks strange to see you with your ear against open air," he commented. "But I suppose--damn!" There was a loud thud.

Startled, Hermione stepped away from the apparent entrance a bit. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Severus replied, sounding rather petulant. "I just knocked a rather dense looking book off the top of its pile. This may take a while."

"We've got all night," she said with a grin. "Knock over as many books as you'd like."

She heard his responding growl, but he chose to otherwise remain silent. It was frustrating, not being able to see what he was doing. Not that Hermione thought she would be particularly helpful in his search, but every little noise coming from behind the wall startled her, not to mention the fact that standing in the middle of the library, talking to an empty wall made her feel rather stupid.

The loud ticking from the large clock at the front of the library was oppressive to Hermione--time seemed to be slowing to a crawl as she waited for Severus to finish his explorations. Eyes surveying the room nervously, she was halfway expecting a dozen professors to come careening around all of the corners at any time, armed with detentions and expulsion threats. She was certain Dumbledore did not make idle warnings; he'd put her on probation nearly three months ago and would not look upon any infraction of the rules lightly.

"Have you found it yet?" she found herself asking the wall tightly.

"Nothing's organized in here, you know," was the irritable reply. "And even if it was, I don't remember the title."

She grit her teeth. "Just ... hurry up," she said. "I'm getting nervous out here, Severus."

"Put your Concealment Charm back on, then, if it bothers you," he said absently.

Feeling foolish for not considering the option herself, Hermione pointed her wand at her throat, muttering the words and feeling a rush of relief as she faded from any potential observer's notice. She also noticed with a smile that the rustlings behind the wall increased; Severus must have taken her at her word.

Fifteen minutes stretched into twenty and were rapidly approaching thirty. Hermione sighed. "How large can that room be?" she muttered, more to herself than the wall.

Not five minutes later, there was a muffled shout emanating from the stones. Her ears pricked. "Did you find it?" she asked excitedly.

"Found it!" Severus crowed. Soon, his head poked through the wall, followed rapidly by the rest of his body. He waved his wand at the door Hermione could not see, ostensibly closing it. His other hand held a crumbling leather-bound book, curled protectively into his side.

"Great," she breathed. "Let's get out of here."

They walked quickly to the library entrance, so intent on their escape that it took both of them rather by surprise when the door swung open before Severus could put his hand on the knob, Professor Flitwick giving him a startled look. "Severus?" he asked, amazed.

Clearing his throat, he deftly flipped the book over in his grip, hiding the title from Flitwick's eyes. "Good evening," he replied smoothly, but Hermione could see the anxiety in his gaze.

"What on Earth are you doing here so late? It's nearly ten-thirty."

Severus glanced quickly at Hermione, and she realized that Flitwick couldn't see her--she was still under her Concealment Charm. "I needed a book for my research," he told the still-rabbity Flitwick. "Nothing to bother with."

"Oh." But Flitwick didn't sound particularly convinced. "Well, good night, then," he said doubtfully.

"Good night," Severus said, striding through the open door. Hermione followed swiftly, tugging at his robe once she was through.

As soon as she was certain Flitwick was out of earshot, she let out a sharp breath. "That was close," she whispered.

"Thankfully not close enough," Severus said in response.

Silent and still wary, they walked briskly back to Severus' office, Hermione staying under her Charm. Once inside, she collapsed into one of his chairs, releasing the Charm with a wand flick. "May I see it?" she asked heavily.

"That would be the general idea," he said, passing the book over and taking the chair opposite hers, forgoing his desk for once.

"The Memoirs of Gaius Claudius Iustus," she read off the title page before riffling through the pages. The word 'sanguis' in its various cases jumped out at her many times--'blood,' good. "This might prove to be of interest."

"I caution you, though," Severus said, "Iustus was a wizard on the order of Delacroix. It probably will not be an entertaining read."

"Are you offering to translate?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "You're the one who's so interested in the original forms of blood magic. I'd rather be in the lab any day of the week."

Continuing to skim through the manuscript, Hermione permitted herself a smile at his words but refused to be drawn. "Wow ... this fellow's mother was awfully optimistic when she named him, wasn't she? One of the worst Claudians, you say?" she asked, focusing on an especially graphic passage.

"We're probably fortunate that he did not come from a particularly magical line," he said. "Especially given where his descendants ended up politically."

"I should think so," she replied, still reading. "Good Lord, he was overly fond of hot knives, wasn't he?"

"Hermione, I could live without the details," Severus said with a grimace.

She sniffed a bit, biting back an acid retort. "Could you hand me my bag?" she asked instead. "I need some parchment if I'm to get started properly."

Passing over the requested item, Severus stood and stretched a bit. "You know, you can use my desk for that--I'm tired of cleaning up the ink you drip all over the upholstery."

"Thanks," Hermione said, dripping sarcasm. But she did gather her work and move over to the desk, immersing herself in the translation once more. It was grisly stuff, but much more helpful than any other work she'd previously studied--apparently Claudius Iustus was practically obsessed with blood and devoted a great deal of exclusive study to the subject. She was, in fact, surprised at the depth of his apparent knowledge and appalled at how he'd managed to acquire it. Iustus had seemingly preferred live subjects for study, using strategically placed Freezing and Petrifying Charms. Involuntarily, she shuddered at that image.

At some point during the course of the evening, Severus had seated himself at the desk as well, continuing to grade essays as she translated. Hermione barely noticed him until they'd bumped shoulders, but once she took note of him, she found herself comforted by his closeness.

Concentration momentarily broken, she studied the wood grain under the desk finish, tracing it from one edge to another and then back again. There was Severus' blotter, his extra quill ...

Something was different, she noticed with a start. After nearly three months of working at this desk, she had a fairly clear mental image of it. "Didn't you have something else on your desk? A little round box of some sort?"

Looking up from the essay he was scribbling on, Severus frowned at the desktop. "My puzzle box," he answered. "It was a gift from my uncle on my ninth birthday. Damn thing took me nearly eight years to work out, but I've always rather fancied the design on the cover. The house elves probably moved it when they were cleaning and forgot to put it back. It will turn up sooner or later." He turned back to his marking in a clear dismissal of the subject, and Hermione returned to her text with a small sigh.

And before she knew it, the clock chimed two in the morning. With a yawn, Hermione closed her book and blew on her newest sheet of parchment in an effort to dry the wet ink faster. "I ought to go," she said, yawning again.

Blinking, Severus pulled himself away from his work and looked up at her. "All right," he replied. "It is rather late, isn't it?"

"Yes, and my Potions professor frowns on drowsy students," she said with a smirk.

"He may be too drowsy himself to notice," Severus confessed, putting down his own quill. "At least, if he doesn't get to sleep as well."

"I'll take that under consideration," Hermione said lightly, shoving everything into her bag, shifting the contents to make the new book fit. Standing, she wondered what to do next.

Fortunately, Severus answered that question for her. Rising out of his seat as well, he gave her a hesitant kiss on the lips. "Good night, Hermione," he muttered as he pulled away, breath warm on her cheek.

She offered him a demure smile and raised her hand to gently touch his cheek in response. "Good night, Severus."

----------

Gaius Claudius Iustus was a seriously disturbed individual, and there was no doubt about it, but his memoirs contained more information on blood magic than anything else Hermione had ever read. She was only a third of the way through his manuscript, and she had already nearly twice as many notes as she had for the entire Delacroix treatise. In fact, she was hard-pressed to focus on much of anything else these days. She attended class, ate her meals, and then went to Severus' office to keep translating.

So she wasn't entirely surprised when, a week after the foray into the restricted Restricted Section, Ron slid into the empty seat on her left ten minutes before Transfigurations was due to start and gave her a cheeky grin. "Been busy lately, have we?" he asked.

"None of your business," she retorted, poking her tongue out at him.

"Who is he?" he continued.

Giving him a pointed look, Hermione remained silent.

Ron wagged a finger at her. "You can't keep it quiet forever, Hermione. Sooner or later I'll figure it out."

I don't bloody think so, she thought with a grin.

"Terry Boot," he said in response to her smirk.

"Nope."

"Colin Creevey."

Surprised, Hermione's eyes flew wide open. "You're mad."

Undaunted, Ron persisted. "That Hufflepuff ... oh, what's his name? Jonathan Cutrell."

"Ron! He's a third-year," she said, scandalized. "His voice hasn't even dropped yet."

He frowned. "Please don't tell me you're having a clandestine affair with Malfoy," he begged. "I don't think I could take that."

"Don't worry," she replied dryly. "You're quite safe from that."

"Oh, good," Ron said.

"So ..." Hermione began, hoping to change the subject. "How's your ... Lucia, is it?"

"It's Patricia, 'Mione, for the thousandth time, and she's not mine anymore. But don't think you get off that easy," he retorted.

"She broke up with you?"

Grinning again, Ron twirled his quill in the air. "For your information, it was mutual. We were moving in different directions. She was moving toward Blaise Zabini and I was moving toward Alex."

"Alex?" she echoed, momentarily confused.

"Alexandra," he corrected. "You'd like her, love. She's a Ravenclaw--wants to be a mediwitch when she leaves school. But back to your mystery lover ..."

"Ron, leave it." With a glare, Hermione opened her Transfigurations textbook, hoping he would take the hint.

He pointed a finger at her. "For now," he said solemnly. "But I will figure this out eventually."

"Figure what out?" Harry asked as he sat down in the desk in front of Ron's, breathing heavily. He must have run from the Great Hall, Hermione reflected.

"Hermione's carrying on with someone right under our noses, and she won't say who it is," he replied with a mock-pout.

Unable to contain herself, Hermione snapped her textbook shut. "It's not any of your business. Either of you!"

"I know how we can find out," Harry said, grinning madly. "'Course, I've got to talk to Neville first ..."

Hermione snorted. "Tell you what, boys. If you can figure it out, I'll write your Potions essays for you until the NEWTs. All of them."

Ron and Harry exchanged a gleeful look. "Now we've got to," Harry cried.

----------


Author notes:For interested parties, Iustus is pronounced "Yoo-stus, (all right, if you get extremely technical it’s “Ee-oo-stus ...” but the ‘y’ sound is the ‘ee-oo’ dipthong anyway in the English language, and now I’ve managed to bore you completely)” and the Claudian family was a fairly significant patrician clan in pre-imperial Rome. They came into further prominence when Livia, wife of Augustus and a Claudian herself, placed her eldest son Tiberius on the throne. He was followed by three more Claudian emperors (although they were also adopted Caesars, but that's getting overly detailed). If this is at all interesting to you and you'd like to read more about the subject, I highly recommend Robert Graves' "I, Claudius." It doesn’t mention the intricacies of ‘y’ versus ‘ee-oo’ once!