Teamwork

Chapter 2b

Snape turned away from Hermione and went back to his cauldron.

"When you're finished with the Fluxweed you can take care of the Puffer-fish eyes. You know how to prepare them, do you?" he asked.

"Sure," Hermione mumbled, shaking off the influence of his proximity.

She looked at his back, absentmindedly reaching for another leaf of Fluxweed. Did he even realize how he had affected her? Probably not. He probably did it to women all the time. But then, he wasn't around women much, was he? There were not many female teachers at Hogwarts and Hermione had never had the impression Snape was remotely interested in any of them. But how would she know, anyway?

~*~

They spent the rest of the day brewing more cauldrons of Obliviatae Potion and making various changes to them as they went along. And when even the last of those potions didn't seem to pass the test Snape had conducted, Hermione sighed in defeat and flopped down on a chair at the table on which the Quick Quotes Quill was still moving on an ever lengthening piece of parchment.

Snape glanced over at her slumped shoulders and wondered if he was supposed to say something encouraging. He wasn't good at that. Being nice and all, encouraging people. He knew how to be strict, make people work, exact discipline. That he could do. But socializing was definitely not his field. And this wasn't even really socializing; it was just being nice to someone he worked with, wasn't it?

"We can try the Moderamini Potion tomorrow," he started and Hermione looked up at him.

She looked tired, he thought. He couldn't remember her ever being tired at Hogwarts. The girl he had known then would never have shown it. At least not toward him.

~*~

Snape lay awake in the small uncomfortable bed in his room in the Leaky Cauldron that night. This project was getting more to him than he cared to admit and he wasn't sure how to handle that. One of the variations of the Obliviatae Potion should have worked. He had thought it was just a matter of brewing a little and testing a little and improving a little. But it seemed to be a lot more complicated than that. And his limited knowledge of the interaction of Muggles and potions didn't help either. But Hermione had a lot of experience in that field and he hated it to depend on her in a way. He told himself for the hundredth time that he wasn't her teacher anymore. Their roles were almost reversed, he realized.

After quite a while he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. His dreams had always been nightmares for as long as he could remember: as a child it had been Potter and his friends who had haunted his dreams, in college the abnormally high expectations of his parents and later his ever intensifying involvement in the Dark Arts and the way back. He couldn't remember ever having pleasant dreams at all. But that night he suddenly found himself in a field of colorful flowers, lying on his back and smiling at a bright, cloudless blue sky. He turned his head to where he had noticed movement beside him: Hermione Granger was lying right next to him in the field, watching him dreamily. A slow smile crept across her features and she reached out toward him and brushed a strand of black hair out of his face. He sat up, amazed by her mere presence and looked at her peaceful form next to him. She wore a flimsy short summer dress that hugged her figure in a most delightful way. And then she opened her mouth to speak, choosing the moment he woke up. Startled, he sat up in the narrow bed and stared in disbelief at the blank wall.

~*~

When Hermione came home to Grimmauld Place she was greeted by Tonks who seemed to be in the mood for a girls' night. But Hermione certainly didn't feel like discussing hair straightening charms and numerous make up spells. She tried to decline in a way that was not rude, but succeeded only partially as she could see from Tonk's slightly hurt expression.

She climbed up the uncountable stairs to her apartment and had almost reached her door when she heard Harry's voice, calling her name. She turned toward him and was about to just tell him to get lost but he spoke first.

"How was your day? Any breakthroughs yet? Dori and I are going to the pub around the corner. Care to join us?"

Briefly Hermione wondered what Tonks would say when she found out that Harry had nicknamed her after a cartoon fish in a Muggle movie... That woman was definitely crazy. Had she Apparated up here right after she had been turned down by Hermione? That wouldn't be strange for her at all, Hermione thought. And why the heck hadn't she just Apparated instead of climbing all those damn stairs?

"No, I..." she started and then thought it better not to elaborate, "I've had a hard day."

Harry grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back to the staircase.

"Then you should absolutely come with us," he concluded.

"Harry," she whined, pulling her arm out of his grasp, "please, I just want to be alone."

At that he withdrew a bit from her and his voice was suddenly very quiet.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to... you know what."

He turned and began to descend the stairs.

"Harry," she said to his back and he looked at her over his shoulder, "it's okay; I didn't think you wanted to."

He gave a tiny nod and continued downstairs while Hermione could finally seek refuge in her apartment.

The usual pile of mail sat on her desk and the window was still open for the owls as she usually left it when she wasn't home. Sometimes Winky closed it for her so that her rooms wouldn't be too cold when she returned. They had taken the little self-destructive elf with them upon leaving Hogwarts. Harry and Ron had of course protested, not wanting to have the constantly whining creature around all the time. But Hermione had insisted that they should take her along. Of course Winky still refused to be paid for her work but she had accepted a room of her own in the end. Hermione had offered her more benefits like a day off per week but the elf had been downright offended.

Hermione ignored the mail and made a beeline for her bathroom. Too tired to move more than absolutely necessary she flicked her wand at the tub and conjured a wonderful, fragrant bath. She undressed quickly and reclined into the hot water, closing her eyes as the scented steam wafted around her.

An evening out with Harry and Tonks was definitely a worse perspective than this. Harry got awfully chatty when that woman had decided to get him drunk. And that was the better part of it. She couldn't help it, her thoughts drifted back to the time she and Harry had been a couple, brief though it was. Everyone had seen it the as the natural extension of their friendship, as had she. But now, from almost two years in the future, she thought they had never really managed the change from friends to lovers. She had loved him, she wouldn't deny it. Just for the wrong reasons. Because everyone thought she did. Because she thought she was supposed to. Because Harry had somehow always expected her to. She couldn't let go around him, not the way she wanted to. When the two of them had been alone the burden of their relationship had always been between them. His touches seemed awkward, her responses faked. And then they had found their catalyst. Weekend after weekend they had spent in pubs and bars, in hotels and inns, anywhere but Grimmauld Place, anything but sober. They had been gallivanting around, clinging to each other for support as they walked on unsteady legs. Their nights had been full of laughter, fun and sheer bliss of the moment. Bliss of forgetting who they were, if only for the shortest of times. More often than not they had woken up to find themselves in some sort of arrest - Muggle or wizard - not remembering how they had gotten themselves into that situation. Usually it had been inappropriate use of magic or disturbance of the peace or other minor infringements that were brought up against them. Someone had always been there to get them out of it. That had gone on for quite a few months. Then she had broken down. All those weekends spent in a haze of alcohol and Harry had worn her out in the end. She couldn't bring up the energy any longer to study in her usual way and failed her first exams. That had brought her down to earth again and she had once again taken to using her brain. It had all come crashing down on her within the time span of a week and she had immediately ended things with Harry. They'd had one hell of a fight that night and Hermione had simply ignored him for the time after. She had been allowed to retake her exams and passed with her usual excellence. She had found back to herself.

Hermione shivered despite the heat in her bathroom, pushing the unpleasant thoughts away. After all, they were friends again. Or at least she tried hard to believe that. They had had long conversations, some futile, some pretty revealing. They had found a level they could both continue from. Some fragile new kind of friendship had developed between them. Slowly, hesitatingly they had reached out for each other again and tried to repair what they could. Once more she wondered who had fixed what they hadn't been able to: their records with the ministry and the Muggle police. One day she had dared to request them, curious to see how much was in them. They had been clear and no one had ever told her who was responsible for that. She just knew she would be eternally thankful to that person. She would never have gotten her current job without him or her.

~*~

Snape was setting up the third cauldron of the day's potion already when Hermione came into their small lab. He almost smiled at her openly amazed expression as she took in how much work had already been done. He watched her gaze travel over to the wooden table and saw even more amazement in it when she noticed the Quick Quotes Quill he had set up.

"Good Morning, Professor," she said, trying to sound a lot more convinced of it than she was.

"Good Morning, Miss Granger," Snape answered and somewhere in the depth of her mind she realized that he had - for the first time - actually spoken a greeting.

She picked up the fleeting thought and plunged right in.

"Please, call me Hermione, Professor. I don't think we need to be formal for a quill," she offered.

"Only if you drop the Professor, Hermione," he replied, quickly turning around to hide the smile that he could no longer deny himself.

He heard the rustle of her robes behind him as she went over to the quill and checked what he'd been doing all morning. He tried to imagine her look when she read that he'd been there since five thirty. When he had awoken from the first pleasant dream in his life, he hadn't been able to go back to sleep. Not wanting to be alone with disturbing thoughts about a former student, he had decided it would be better to use the extra time to work. Brewing potions always took his mind of things that were better not thought about. It made him concentrate on ingredients, measures and exact rules. That was his world, were he belonged. Everything at the right measure at the right time. Everything according to the rules. Snape proceeded cutting another batch of fluxweed. Perhaps it would have the desired effect on the Moderamini Potion. Even if it hadn't worked on the Obliviatae. He concentrated on the knife slicing through the thick leaves guided by his well practiced hand. But as he worked he remembered how he had helped her with the fluxweed the day before. He remembered her soft skin beneath his hands, her small wet hands learning from his touch. The way she had let him direct her motions, manipulate her nimble fingers. The Hermione from his dream came back to his mind. Unasked for, but inevitably. She looked relaxed and at ease unlike the real woman that seemed to be constantly conscious about everything she did. Her appearance, the way she moved, how she exerted her authority without any obvious effort. All that tight control the dream-Hermione lacked. She floated amidst the sea of flowers around them, a peaceful smile on her lips. The light dress ended mid-thigh and when she raised her arm to wave at him the hem slid up several more inches...

"Ouch!" Snape exclaimed louder than he cared to admit and dropped the knife in his hand.

He stared down at his hands in disbelief: a long cut ran along the side of his left index finger and blood dripped onto the carefully washed leaves of fluxweed. He hadn't cut himself in ages. Never had he been too distracted to work on a potion, never too preoccupied with off-topic thoughts.

He pushed the leaves away before too many of them were ruined by his blood and then he noticed a hand on his arm. Hermione had come rushing over at his sudden yelp and was now pulling the injured hand toward her.

"Let me take a look," she said quietly and carefully dabbed at the cut with a wet cloth. "It's quite shallow, I can fix it."

She retrieved her wand from where she'd been working and muttered a simple healing spell upon which the wound closed itself and the pain vanished instantly.

"Thank you," Snape said, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.

Hermione just smiled and ran her fingers lightly over the place where the wound had been, feeling for traces the spell might not have caught. When he had taught her how to wash the leaves the previous day she had been entranced by his hands. And now she was suddenly caught up in them again. She traced the outline of his fingers and told herself she just needed to check if the healed wound felt like the skin on his other fingers. Suddenly he twisted his wrist and took hold of her hand. Hermione snapped out of her reverie and looked at him.

Snape searched her eyes that had been locked so intently on his hand and held them with his gaze. Her pupils were dilated to the point it made her eyes seem almost black. Or were that his own eyes, reflected in the gleaming surface of her irises?

A loud hissing noise interrupted the moment and Hermione spun away from him. She dashed across the room to a cauldron at the far end of the room. The greenish liquid in it was bubbling over the rim and dripping down into the fire that had begun to blaze high in reaction. She extinguished the otherwise uncontrollable flames with an angry flick of her wand and pulled the heavy cauldron further away from the heat.

~*~

In the following week time began to take on peculiar properties for Hermione: most of the day it flew past her at next to impossible speed. Every second seemed to be filled with brewing potions, making minute changes to every batch of them, testing potions, thinking up new alterations and testing methods. And then there were moments when time seemed to almost stop entirely. When she stood so close to Snape that she had to make a conscious effort of keeping her thoughts on the task at hand. She would find herself distracted by his proximity every now and then, anyway and had to step away a bit to continue working. The evenings seemed to stretch as well, although they worked late every day, eager to finish the project before Snape would be required back at Hogwarts for this term's exams. She was too exhausted to spend her evenings with Harry or Tonks. She stayed by herself most of the time she didn't spend at the lab or checking in on her Obliviators once in a while. She was glad Pete had taken charge of the department before Sybille Chase had been able to seize her opportunity. So that was one thing she didn't have to worry about. She tried reading, as it had always helped her to calm down when things were difficult. But she found herself reading the same page over and over again with understanding a word of it.

Often she just drew herself a bath and tried to leave the day behind her. And at these times Snape found his way into her thoughts. Unasked for, but inevitably. She marveled at how easily they both had taken to calling each other by their given names. It made things easier where work was concerned but only heightened her awareness of him in every other aspect. Often they would touch inadvertently; brief, fleeting touches but she was only too aware of them all. She noticed him looking at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention and had to admit she did the same. Sometimes she thought the air was crackling with tension in the lab. Somewhere along the line she had stopped to see him as her teacher, even though he still passed on some of his extensive knowledge to her. And she didn't think he still regarded her as a student any more. They worked side by side, on equal footing, each throwing in what was required of them.

Hot steam from her bath would fill the room and she would lose herself in contemplation of him. The way he leaned over the cauldron in deep concentration, the way he carefully ground the most precious and rare ingredients for his potions. She had become fascinated by his hands and his eyes seemed to hypnotize her. She often felt his gaze on her while they worked but she wondered what his hands would feel like, would he touch her. Really touch her; not the accidental brushes in the lab, not the deft assistance with materials too hard for her to cut alone, but really touch her. Explore her, read her body with his hands. His eyes would follow his touch and she would be lost to him.

But she was alone in her bath and it were her own hands that began to stray across her body more often than not these days. But he was with her behind her closed eyelids. She could smell him, she could see his endless black eyes and she could feel his touch that brought sweet release.

~*~

When the second weekend was approaching and Hermione was already wrapping things up in the lab, Snape suddenly appeared at her side and held up a glass vial so close to her face her eyes could barely focus on it.

"This is it!" he announced, trying but failing to hide his excitement. "We got it. It's the Moderamini plus batch Nr. 52 and an extra dose of belladonna. It just has to simmer a little longer."

Chapter 3

"And it passed all the tests?" Hermione asked incredulously. Some part of her had already given up hope on finding a potion that worked in the desired way in her lifetime.

"All of them," Snape said, carefully hidden triumph gleaming silently in his eyes.

Together they walked over to the cauldron that held the precious substance and Hermione stared into the bubbling liquid. They'd done it. But...

"We'll need test subjects..." she murmured almost to herself.

"We need what?" Snape looked at her as if she'd personally insulted him. "It's passed all my tests, it works."

"I don't want to question your tests, Severus, it's just that..."

"They're unpredictable," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the promising concoction in his cauldron. "Muggles," he added, turning around to Hermione who was just about to ask for further elaboration.

"While I certainly would have phrased it differently, you're right," she agreed. "Somehow most Muggles react quite... well, differently to magic than wizards, although the physical differences that go with the ability to do magic are not that great."

"They're unpredictable," Snape insisted, simplifying the matter immensely in Hermione's eyes.

"Whatever," she shrugged, "I'll go over to Pete and see if he's got a test subject for us."

~*~

In a swirl of robes she was out of the door and Snape was left to observe the potion that might be able to promote certain changes in the ethics of magic.

Snape had never given much thought on Muggles and their interaction - or lack thereof - with the magical world. Not even during the last two weeks had he considered the topic more closely. To him this had been a potions-challenge, no crusade for the well-being of Muggles. But to Hermione it seemed to matter. She put all her energy into this project, and it hadn't been easy to convince her superiors if the rumor mill at the Ministry could be trusted.

The potion began to shimmer in a greenish shade of yellow and Snape immediately extinguished the flames beneath it. He directed a fleet of bottles and phials of different sizes with his wand from a shelf across the room to a tray beside the cauldron. Carefully he began to fill the phials and bottles with the liquid that unfortunately hadn't had the grace to develop a less appalling color.

The cauldron empty and the array of vessels gleaming in a sick shade of green in the bright lighting of the lab, all he could do was wait for Hermione to return. He idly rearranged the stoppered and sealed bottles until his gaze fell onto the hands that did the work. He had never given much thought on his hands, either, but suddenly that moment from the previous week fought itself back into his consciousness. The fact that a potions master of his experience had cut himself at such a simple task had embarrassed him a lot more than he had let on. And what bothered him even more was why that had happened. He couldn't afford to be distracted. Ever. But this unexpected visit to London was uncovering emotions within him that he had denied himself for such a long time that he almost felt like he'd forgotten them. That moment had made him see the reason for that. He simply couldn't afford distraction. And having Hermione around all the time had turned out to be a far greater distraction than he could ever have thought possible.

His dream about the two of them in the field of flowers kept repeating itself almost every night by now and he could barely shake off the images in daylight. They were laughing together in his dream, exchanging light touches, fleeting kisses. And then she would open her mouth but before she'd be able to speak he would wake up and find himself alone in the Leaky Cauldron. The meaning of dreams was another thing Snape had never given much thought to. Briefly he considered doing that but then he shook off the idea decisively and his eyes came to rest on his hands again.

Hermione had obviously been fascinated by them when she had tended to the embarrassing cut, and he had enjoyed the attention. He wondered what might be so special about his hands, turning them over to look at them from various angles. But quickly he dropped them into his lap when the door swung open and Hermione came in. She walked over to one of the enchanted windows in the far wall and gazed out of it gloomily. For once she didn't say a word. What was that supposed to mean? Didn't she want to tell him how they were going to proceed? He had just made up his mind to ask her what was the matter when she turned around and glared at him with barely concealed anger.

"For the last two weeks before we started to work on the potion we were practically drowning in cases. And now? Nothing! Almost everyone has gone home early and Pete and Sybille are just twiddling their thumbs. And I know she's only still there to wait for something that will get her my job."

She had begun to pace the length of the room but suddenly she stopped mid-step and turned to Snape, a contrite look on her face.

"Sorry, I know I shouldn't talk like that... the point is we have to wait until there's a case that fits our requirements."

~*~

Hermione shrugged her shoulders defiantly and returned to the window to stare out at the fake lawns and houses outside bathed in the fake light of a fake setting sun. She hated to wait. Oh, how passionately she hated to wait! To wait and have nothing to do in the meantime. It could take days before the opportunity would present itself. And suddenly Hermione realized why she would loathe the amount of vacant time that was to be expected: It meant Severus would probably return to Hogwarts until he was needed again and she would be left to wait alone. And if she was honest with herself, she didn't want to let him go. She wanted to keep working with him; she didn't want the project to be over at all. She expected Snape to say something but he didn't. She took a deep breath and then made a desperate attempt.

"Maybe you want to see Muggle London while we have the time. It could be... ehm, interesting."

That had sounded pathetic, hadn't it? Had she just suggested a sightseeing tour to Severus Snape? She jumped slightly as she heard his voice from right behind her. He sounded calm, his usual classroom-self where she had expected him to show indignation or even laugh at her. No, wait, Snape never laughed.

"I believe I will return to Hogwarts and see if my classroom is still intact," he said. "And I'm sure Gryffindor will have gained far too many house points by now."

Had she actually allowed herself to ponder the possibility of him staying with her during the wait? Stupid girl. Of course he would go to the school, get away from her as soon as he could, even if it was just a break. Get away from the bossy little know-it-all before she has the chance to show you she's grown up. He must have hated working with her all these long hours. Why had he come here at all? Oh, well, he hadn't known she was in charge of the project so he'd probably been looking for a challenge. And there she had been thinking they worked well together, being on first name basis and all. But he had just been waiting for the next best opportunity to leave again and return to people he could show his disdain for. Tears were welling up in her eyes. It had always been hard for her to establish her authority in the first place but with her former Potions professor it seemed impossible. She didn't realize that an uncomfortable silence had developed between the two of them.

"Hermione?" Snape's voice drifted to her ear, a tone that she refused to regard as worried or considerate.

"What?" she hissed, spinning around to face him while she tried furiously to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. "What are you waiting for?"

He opened his mouth to reply but she didn't want to hear it. It was so obvious that he saw nothing in her that hadn't been there at Hogwarts. It was disgusting, he still thought of her as a little girl.

"You don't get it, do you?" she snapped, once again starting to pace the room. "I'm still twelve years old to you. I don't know if this is a new concept to you, but people change, they don't stay the children they once were. I'm young for the position I'm in and I'm Muggle-born; I have to fight for every ounce of the respect I deserve. But you of all people should know better! You've been working with me for almost two weeks now and you've known me at Hogwarts. And apparently I'm not a bit different from then!"

Trying hard to control her breathing she stopped at the table where the Quick Quotes Quill had sat during their work sessions. She bit her lip. There she was telling him she wasn't a child any longer and behaving exactly like that child she didn't want to be. She stared at her feet in disbelief. How could she have gotten so carried away in front of him?

"What makes you think I don't respect you?" Snape asked very quietly and from very near to where she was standing.

She looked up to find him directly in front of her reaching out a tentative hand toward her arm. Hastily she folded her arms over her chest before he could touch her. That was the last thing she needed now. She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. She didn't trust herself to speak and had to fight the tears again. Useless. Hermione felt two narrow wet streaks on her face when she couldn't stop the tears from falling any longer. She resisted the urge to sob and fling herself into his arms while she kept staring at a now blurry spot to the right of his head.

Red blotches of shame crept onto her cheeks. Fine, on top of it all she was crying like a baby. Closing her eyes she tried to get a grip on herself. What was the matter with her? Since when did she show weakness at work? Why couldn't she just clench her teeth and walk right through it?

The soft touch of warm fingers on her left cheek made her hold her breath and stand stiff as a poker. The fingers wiped away her tears on first one and then the other cheek. Slowly she opened her eyes and found herself gazing into the almost black depths of Snape's eyes.

"Breathe," he whispered and stepped even closer.

Hermione let out a shuddering breath and suddenly Snape leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She made to pull away by instinct but a hand was already tangled in her hair and held her in place. His tongue sneaked out and stroked insistently against her lips while his other hand reached around her waist to bring her still closer. Hermione felt herself unwind under the warmth of his touch and let her body relax into his arms. She didn't want to think; it would get her nowhere. So she opened her lips for him and allowed him to explore the inside of her mouth before she grew bolder and let her own tongue glide against his.

Confusion was making itself known again in the back of her mind. What was he doing? Oh, wait, what a stupid question. But why...? Okay, that would have to wait for later, she thought when his hand had found its way into her robes and was making tiny circles in the small of her back.

TBC