Perfection

Perfection

Chapter 14: Leipzig Life

"I told you that we should have turned back there!" Hermione cried out, frustrated.

"But the map says..."

"Maybe you're reading the map wrong! It's probably upside down or something..."

"The map is not upside down!" he hissed. "We keep going straight!"

Hermione moaned and leaned against a lamppost. "Let me see the map," she ordered, snatching it away from him and squinting for a moment, before grinning to herself.

"What?" he snarled, stealing it back.

"It's a map of Frankfurt. You--you--got us a map of Frankfurt. I don't believe it," she sniggered.

"I told you it wasn't upside down," came the snarky reply.

"That doesn't matter, because the map still doesn't help us, my darling professor."

She patted him on the shoulder, and made a face at a tourist, nattily attired in a floral Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts over pasty legs who was staring at them, while Severus shot him a death glare.

"Let's just get a taxi," she suggested to him. "That way we won't have to buy another map. I'm never going to drop this, by the way."

"We have to find one first," he pointed out dryly.

"Oh, stop sulking. How hard can it be? Excuse me!" she called out to a young woman walking by, who paused, her head jerking, before frantically realizing that her German was almost non-existent. "Uh... Guten tag... um... Shit!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Severus's scowl twitch into a smile, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

"I speak English," she assured them, adjusting her glasses and brushing a reddish piece of hair out of her face.

"Merlin's beard," Severus sighed, and Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "I mean, uh... Blimey, that's a relief."

Hermione covered her mouth with a hand to prevent herself from grinning outright. "Do you know where this street is?" she asked, pointing to a piece of paper that she held out in front of her and trying to speak slowly without being obvious. "I won't try to say the name, I'll only butcher it," she added, by way of explanation.

"It isn't far," she told them. "Go straight down this road for another three blocks, then turn left and there you are."

"Thanks!" Hermione said, smiling politely, and turning to Severus as the other woman kept on down the street. Once she was out of earshot, Hermione hissed, "Blimey? That was the best you could come up with?"

"I was working under pressure," he teased her, flashing a grin. "As for your language skills, I could have done better."

"Ignoring the fact that you would have scared whoever you tried to talk to away by glaring at them," she replied, hoisting up her suitcase. "Come on, I'd like to get to the flat by next week."

"That would be nice, yes," he agreed. After a few steps, he added, "Do you notice how we seem to be walking in the opposite direction of everyone else?"

"Now that you mention it..."

He switched the hands that his suitcase was in, and Hermione paused for a moment, setting hers down, then pulled out a handle.

"What's that?" he asked, staring curiously.

"I almost forgot... My suitcase has wheels."

He rolled his eyes, and they continued on to cross the street.

"Am I sensing jealousy?" she teased.

"Why?" he asked disdainfully. "They're wheels. The Ancient Egyptians thought them up; they aren't anything particularly extraordinary."

"Are you sure it was the Egyptians?"

She laughed up at him, and they kept walking for another few minutes in silence.

"I think this is where we turn," he commented as they approached another corner.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, I made a number of deductions, but the signpost was a dead giveaway."

She blinked stupidly for a moment, before grinning. "Ah, I see. Now, what are we looking for? Number seventeen..."

They continued down the street for barely more than ten metres before finding it--a four-story house that was white with red trim and had a gate that opened into a small courtyard.

"Beautiful," Hermione sighed, taking in the bright arrangements of flowers in the window boxes and the vines climbing up one side of the house.

"It's nice," Severus agreed briskly, about to proceed to the door, but she held out a hand to stop him. "What now?"

"I want you to appreciate this," she ordered him in a no-nonsense tone, although the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

He arched an eyebrow and looked down his nose, tactfully remaining silent.

"Smell the flowers, inhale the refreshing scent of roses on a summer's day, allow your soul to be soothed by the colors..."

Her voice went misty in an uncanny impersonation of Trelawney and she led him to a rosebush, shoving her nose into it and breathing deep. He barely disguised a snort with a cough and she mock-glared up at him.

"You aren't taking the healing properties of this botanical wonder seriously," she lectured. "I want you to stop laughing at me and try it!"

Dutifully, he lowered his nose to the rose and just as he was about to inhale, a wasp flew out of the centre, buzzing angrily. Surprised, he leapt back, half tripping over his own feet and yelping as he tumbled to the ground, taking Hermione with him.

"That certainly was graceful," she informed him, picking herself off and checking to make sure that there were no grass stains on her jeans. Now what do you say that we go inside?"

"That's what I was trying to do," he snarled at her, making her laugh.

"Oh, you know every bit as much as I do that the entire experience was a balm to your jaded soul..."

"Gain a few more years before you lecture me about being jaded, wise one," he advised, heaving up his suitcase.

Before Hermione could come up with a suitable reply, the door flung open, revealing a short, plump woman with salt and pepper hair, who appeared to be overwhelmed by the idea of having guests and seemed to be on the verge of rushing out and giving each of them a welcoming embrace.

"Hello," Severus greeted her stiffly, obviously hoping to ward off any shows of affection.

She returned the exchange, then continued in slow and heavily accented but passable English.

"You are the Professor Snape and Miss Granger, yes?" she asked them, stepping aside to let them in.

Hermione smiled and nodded, accepting the invitation into the cool house willingly, Severus following close behind. She had never been one to enjoy the extreme heat waves of July.

"You will stay on the third floor, I have made everything ready for you. Here are your keys; I am on the second floor if you do need help with anything. And there was a package arrived yesterday for Miss Granger, I will get it for you if you will come upstairs."

Severus looked at her questioningly and she mouthed at him, "The dress." He nodded, and they proceeded to follow the round figure that was heaving up the steps.

*

When Ginny finally crawled out of bed, it was nearly noon and she did it reluctantly, wanting to delay seeing Harry for as long as possible. Automatically, she felt under the mattress, as she had so often during the night, for Draco's letters and to her relief, they were still there. She would need to find a better hiding place for them and soon, but the problem with that plan, she realized as she gazed glumly around the empty room, was that there simply was nowhere to do so, particularly not in here.

Hearing the thudding of footsteps coming up the stairs, she panicked and shoved them under the rug, praying that her mother didn't decide to air it out anytime soon and that Harry was stupider than he looked.

*

Draco lay on his stomach on the lawn to the rear of Malfoy Manor, knowing with a strong sense of relief that this was the one place he would not be interrupted by his father, mainly because of the fact that Lucius Malfoy was wanted by authorities and never left the inside of the house during daylight hours. Draco, on the other hand, was still a more or less law-abiding citizen and therefore had no fears regarding the ministry or their laws--at least not yet.

He knew that he had a choice to make. He had known that since he had held her in his arms in the school library, comforted her as she battled something that he had no knowledge of, although he had not admitted it to himself. It was to be a choice between her and everything that, up until now, he had believed to be the truth, a choice between dark and light, a choice between being foolish and being like... like...

He paused for a moment, hardly daring to allow the thought to fully formulate inside his mind. Unbidden, it did so anyway.

And being like his father.

Lucius Malfoy was a man to be feared, respected, not underestimated. There was nothing yielding or soft in his nature. He was as hard and cold as a flawless diamond, but his soul held none of the beauty of the stone. It was all Draco could do not to shake his head.

Lucius Malfoy was certainly a piece of work.

The boy knew that there was no way he could ever earn his father's praise, no way that he would be anything other than a foolish, stupid boy who was unsure of what he wanted in life. No way save one.

One thing that, above all, he would not--could not--do.

Or could he?

Unbidden, her face etched itself in his mind, smiling, happy, looking at him with adoration, affection, love, even. But above all, she was looking at him with trust, and that was what he couldn't shatter.

It came down to a choice between love and a brief moment of praise, and though he was no romantic, Draco knew which of the two he valued, which of the two would last more than a fleeting second.

Sorry, Father, he thought feeling a quick pang of regret that was promptly pushed aside. He had made his choice.

Actually, no, I'm not sorry. You don't know it yet, but I've failed you yet again. The only thing is that this time, I don't give a damn.

*

Severus watched Hermione examine their lodgings from his seat on the sofa, smiling as she exclaimed over various things like the view from the balcony (didn't he want to come and see it?), the kitchenette (we ought to find a market, or at the very least, a restaurant), and even the lampshades (they were so adorable, was he sure that he didn't want to at least have a look?). Finally, she sank down next to him, and leaned against him, somewhat weakly.

"I hate portkeys," she confided, eyes flicking up at him. "They always leave me feeling light-headed."

He nodded, agreeing. "I can't stand them either, but as you can't apparate..."

He didn't add that he wanted to save his energy in the event that he did have to get them out of something. True, it was unlikely, but a lesson he had learned early on in life was that the unlikely was sometimes the most likely thing to occur.

"Nothing I can't handle," she assured him, curling up against him more tightly and resting her head in the hollow his chest provided.

He adjusted his arm so that it was resting comfortably on top of her before closing his eyes, intending only to rest them for a moment. He was subconsciously aware as he did so that Hermione's breathing had slowed as she gradually drifted into sleep. When he opened them again, more than slightly disoriented, it was late in the afternoon and Hermione was gazing blearily up at him.

Yawning, he asked her, "How do you feel about eating out? I doubt that either of us is up to cooking."

"Sounds great," she agreed, straightening and running a hand through her wild hair. "But I get first dibs on the shower."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Don't use up all of the hot water."

"I'll try," she teased, moving gradually towards her suitcase and unzipping it.

*

The restaurant they chose was a small café on an out-of-the way street, although judging by the sounds coming from the tavern next-door, it was a well-known enough spot. Neither of them was particularly famished, an after-effect of the portkey, so they split a plate of spatzle with a veal cutlet, picking bits off of the giant platter covered in food that sat in the middle of the table and eating it off of the smaller plates intended for appetizers.

"So, what are the plans for tomorrow?" Hermione asked between mouthfuls of the noodles.

"Find the place the conference is located at and make any arrangements needed," came the reply after he had finished swallowing a gulp of water.

"Is there anything that we need to arrange?"

"Other than finding out when you will be speaking, no, but it would be a good idea to become better acquainted with the area."

She nodded and sawed off a dainty piece of veal, chewing it thoughtfully.

"You know, I normally don't like veal but there must be some sort of seasoning on it that makes it taste amazing..." She paused a beat before adding, "Or maybe I'm just starting to like food again," and laughing somewhat dryly at the comment.

He covered her hand with his and patted it in a rare gesture of real affection and examined the menu that had been left at their table thoughtfully.

"Do you want to test the theory? The deserts sound delicious."

She laughed, eyeing the half-full plate before them.

"Maybe we should finish one thing before jumping into another," she began, then grinned at him. "On the other hand, why not?"

*

Ron was hunched over his books--a rare occurrence for him, but as the other option was shifting through musty trunks that were in the attic, for once he didn't mind. Ginny sat opposite him, humming idly and reading a letter that had just come in the post from a bird that looked suspiciously like Draco Malfoy's. Every so often she would smile to herself and allow a quiet giggle over it. She seemed almost giddy.

It struck Ron that Ginny was never particularly giddy. She laughed, was cheerful, for the most part, but his sister had never struck him as... flighty. Even when she had gone through boyfriends like Honeydukes candy, she had never seemed quite like this. They were accessories to be acquired and dropped when their company began to grow dry, the lucky ones lasting a few months. She would giggle with her friends as they passed in the hall, but it really didn't matter to her.

Today, she glowed. No make-up accented her face, her hair was in an ordinary ponytail, and she was still in her pajamas, but her happiness was obvious. He didn't want to be the one to end it.

"Who's the letter from," he asked, falsely casual.

"Why?"

"Just curious." He knew the answer, but he was testing the waters. Talking about feelings didn't come naturally to Ronald Weasley.

"Why do you want to know?"

Why did younger siblings always as the stupid "why" questions? Ron wondered, conveniently ignoring the fact that he was a younger sibling himself.

"I dunno. Just wondering."

"If you must know--promise you won't freak out--Draco..."

He nodded, trying to remain relaxed. "I thought as much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

He shrugged, pretending to be fascinated with his parchment. "You really... like him then?"

He might be prepared to be somewhat open-minded for his sister's sake, but it felt horribly wrong to combine the concepts of Draco Malfoy and love.

"He's not the person he pretends to be, you know," she told him, staring wide-eyed at her brother. "He's... very sweet."

Ron fought the bile that rose up in his throat at the idea of Malfoy being sweet. "If it makes you happy," he replied bravely.

"Someone's in an accepting mood this morning," she teased, chewing on the end of her quill.

He wisely remained silent.

"It's a good thing, you know," she continued, toying with her hair. "You can be incredibly closed-minded sometimes. There's more to people than what you see."

"So I'm finding out," he answered acidly.

First his sister was in love with the one and only Draco Malfoy, and then Hermione was spending her vacation in Germany with Snape. The world had tipped off of its axis. They had all gone bloody mad.

As if on cue, an owl flew in the open kitchen window, dropping a letter from aforementioned friend before swooping out. Anxious to stop this conversation--it was far to in depth for his liking--Ron tore it open, surprised to see three separate letters fall out as opposed to the customary two for him and Harry.

"There's one for you," he told Ginny, flicking it in her direction.

For a moment she looked anxious, but quickly hid it with a somewhat forced smile as she skimmed over the letter quickly. She exhaled and set it down, looking up at him.

"Why the sudden interest in my love life?" she asked, steering him away from Hermione's correspondence.

"You're my sister, do I really need one?"

"Why the patience, then?" she pressed.

"What do you mean?"

Ginny rolled her eyes at him and made a noise that sounded like a sigh. "Ron, you hate Draco. Normally, by this point, you would be storming out the door with an axe in your hand shrieking death threats. I want to know what you did with my brother."

Ron found a sudden fascination with the table. "Well... the thing is, I was thinking and I decided that I'm not going to stop your... relationship... so the best thing is to accept it. I mean, er, the thing is, Gin, you're my only sister and I worry and... and... yeah..."

He trailed off into uncomfortable silence and made a pathetic attempt at a smile. He forced himself to look at Ginny, and to his surprise her eyes had filled with tears.

"Thanks," she whispered, reaching across the table to pat his hand. "It means a lot to me."

*

He watched her from his seat at the back of the room as she strode up looking confident and utterly sure of herself. She cast the charm that would allow herself to be heard and began to speak the words that he knew practically off by heart from her rehearsing the night before. She caught his eye for a moment and gave him a half-smile as reassurance; he let his grip on the armrest of his chair relax.

He didn't listen to the words--every time he tried he felt as though all the panic she had felt this morning was unloaded onto his chest, making breathing difficult. Instead he concentrated on a piece of hair that had slid from its place, despite the pile of bobby pins that had been shoved randomly throughout her head, and was framing her face, bouncing as she spoke. He wasn't entirely sure what made it so fascinating, but it was much better than stressing. His breathing patterns had just begun to return to normal when the first person spoke up.

"But the Golden Shield is a myth," someone protested. "If it were real, someone would have used it."

Hermione bit her lip for a second, thinking of the best way to answer. "Not necessarily," she replied slowly. "Most myths have some sort of basis in fact, and I assure you that this one is real."

"But can you prove it?"

This last remark came from a short, portly man in the front, whose graying hair was tied back in a horsetail. For a moment irritation was visible on Hermione's face and Severus felt something catch in his throat, but a second later she had removed the stopper from the vial she was displaying and taken a sip. She gagged for a moment, then straightened.

"Hex me."

A general gasp went up around the auditorium.

"You asked me if I could prove it and I'm going to. Hex me."

The man's expression went from skeptical to somewhat bewildered as he failed to meet the steady hazel eyes that were boring into him. He remained still.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking you to try and kill me or anything, just a simple spell. The potion will repel anything."

The man stood, somewhat uncertain, and raised his wand.

"Stupefy!"

There was a flash of light and everyone in the room was blinded momentarily and when the light spots stopped dancing before his eyes, Severus was able to see that Hermione was unharmed. Strange to think that they had never considered testing the potion in this way.

She smiled at the challenger politely and continued in a voice with an undertone of steel, "Now if you don't mind..."

Sweating, he sat down and seemed to shrink under the stares he was receiving as Hermione continued her presentation.

*

"I'm very pleased with the way you handled that situation this morning," Severus told Hermione once they had finished ordering lunch, making her giggle.

"You sound like my great aunt or something," she teased him. Making her voice uppity, she added, "Hermione, dear, I'm so proud of you..."

He mock-glared at her as he buttered a roll. "Be quiet."

"Yes, auntie," she replied, grinning.

He flicked a crumb at her and she laughed again, attracting the attention of the other people in the restaurant.

"Anyway," she continued, "I only did the first thing that came into my head. I was scared out of my wits to begin with, and that guy didn't help at all. I'm surprised that you didn't hear my heart from where I was standing."

"You did fine," he assured her. "There's nothing to worry about, just a bunch of presentations that will be remarkably anti-climactic after your display today and a banquet." He paused for a moment before saying good-naturedly, "I hate banquets."

"Do you really? I never would have guessed."

*

Ginny,

I'm flattered that you would ask my counsel, but I don't know what to tell you. I can't believe that Harry would do something like that, but since you aren't one to lie, especially about something like this, I'll take your word for it. Honestly, I don't know what you should do. You say you can't tell your parents, so I won't try to convince you to, particularly since I don't know the details of what passed. All I can think of is that you should try not to be alone with him and keep some way of defending yourself nearby. (Under-age witches and wizards can use magic if they must.)

I'm sure that this letter won't be of much use to you--I won't insult your intelligence by pretending you couldn't think these things up on your own--but if it makes you feel better, I was invited to spend August with you, so you won't be in your room alone next month and I'm sure he won't try anything with two of us there. Anyway, Severus and I are going to dinner, so I have to go.

Take care and try not to do anything compromising,

Hermione

Ginny read over the letter once again when she was in her room, feeling comforted by the knowledge that someone was on her side and that she wouldn't have to worry as much next month, when Hermione was around.

She skimmed through it once more, and squinted at something in the last paragraph. Hermione had referred to Professor Snape as Severus. Surely that wasn't usual. And they were going out for dinner? Definitely not.

Come to think of it, Hermione did spend an awful lot of time with the Potions Master, working on that project. Was it possible that there was something else going on? It was something to ponder on a rainy day.

Or right now, as time was allowing it...

Hermione hardly seemed the sort to have some sort of forbidden liaison, especially with a teacher, but on the other hand Hermione never really talked about her feelings. She could read other people like a book, but no one could ever quite figure her out. She was remarkably good at hiding.

Of course, it was Snape, and therefore the chances of him returning any feelings for her were small... But who was she to judge the hearts of Slytherin men?

She smiled to herself and flopped back onto her bed.

*

Hermione checked her reflection in the mirror one last time, fussing over her curls that were tumbling richly over her shoulders and covering her back, which was exposed by the dress. Four hours of showering, dressing, fixing her hair, and applying make-up and she still didn't feel ready. In fact, she felt more like Lavender or Parvati... Scary thought.

Thankfully, the dress fit her better than it had over Christmas, which meant she must have put on at least a little weight. Rather than hanging loosely, it hugged her frame--although it was still not worthy of being compared to spandex.

She wondered how Severus was managing--that was a good thought; it distracted her from her own jittery nerves. She hoped that he wasn't being ridiculous and refusing to--was that a chip in her nail? Not now... Not when she'd spent half an hour with that stupid manicure charm, trying to get them to look just right.

Thank goodness, it was just a trick of the light. But what about the eyeliner? Was it too heavy? Was it smudging? Was her lipstick too red? And what about the dress? Would they realize that, despite all last minute modifications from her and Severus, it was indeed an article of muggle clothing? What if--

A knock on the door saved her from dissolving into worry.

"Hermione, are you still alive?"

"Yes! Are you disappointed?"

"Very much so. Now if you don't mind..."

"I'm coming!" she called out, snatching up her purse and making sure that her earrings hadn't fallen out mysteriously in the last split second.

She darted across the room as quickly as four-inch heels would allow and swung open the door, revealing Severus, his forehead creased. With some degree of amusement, she realized that he was as worried--if not more--than she. His eyes widened as her gave her the once over, and his approval was apparent in them, for which she was more than grateful. She needed all the confidence she could get.

"You should tie your hair back," she told him, trying to ignore the fact that her knees were turning to jelly at the feeling of his gaze caressing her. "It emphasizes your eyes."

He rolled them, but handed her a black hair tie and lowered himself so that she would be able to pull the black strands off of his face, although it was hardly necessary with her shoes.

"There," she announced when she had finished. "Now just let me add some blush and--"

"Definitely not," he pronounced, mouth twitching at the corners.

"Are you sure? It could do so much for you; if you would only let it..." came Hermione's teasing reply. "Well, if you insist, I suppose we should get going... You look wonderful, by the way."

"So do you," he replied, quirking an eyebrow. "Absolutely perfect. Shall we walk? I think we still have time to be fashionably late."

"Certainly," she replied, linking arms with him to keep her balance as they descended the stairwell. "So what are we going to do tomorrow?"

She didn't add on that she was unbelievably thankful for the extra day to explore. Severus had been dead accurate in his prediction that the rest of it would be anti-climactic after her display. Not that she minded learning, but nothing else had been remotely groundbreaking--just a lot of pompous-looking, decrepit wizards giving dull sermons about things she had already learned on midnight excursions to the Restricted Section of the library courtesy of Harry's invisibility cloak. Borrowed without his knowledge, naturally.

"You wanted to visit the Bach museum, didn't you? And then there's the--"

"Medieval apothecary's, yes..." Hermione interrupted, then flushed. "I was thinking in the evening..." she added, carefully avoiding looking at him directly. "I mean, you bought that suit and you haven't worn it anywhere yet, so you wouldn't want to have wasted the money..."

Luckily, he seemed entirely oblivious to her angle. "Of course," he agreed. "I'll try to find a nice restaurant somewhere."

He seemed too oblivious, especially for a Slytherin.

Silence followed the exchange as they passed under the lamps that were just beginning to turn on as dusk settled in. She leaned on his arm more the further they walked, more because she wanted to than because her feet were sore and he made no complaint. When they finally drew near, he turned to her with a serious expression.

"Be careful who you talk to in there. I wouldn't turn my back on most of them."

"Why do you say so?" she asked, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

"Let's just say that they have somewhat twisted pleasures... Comes from spending too much time in a research lab."

"So that order would include you as well, I suppose?"

He grinned wolfishly down at her. "You have no idea..."

"Don't worry, I think it's sweet."

The smile turned to a squint as he tried to decipher her meaning. "Sweet?" he repeated.

"That you worry."

She patted his cheek condescendingly and turned to head indoors.

*

Draco jerked up suddenly as he sensed someone behind him.

"Draco."

He jumped about a foot in the air, trying to mask his irritation. His nerves were already on edge as it was, and the fact that his father kept creeping up on him at odd moments really wasn't helping.

"Yes, father."

Sarcasm. Sarcasm that his father wouldn't miss. Sarcasm was bad.

"We have been summoned."

"We?" Draco repeated, stunned. Since when had he... Right. The day that he had agreed to...

He couldn't even think it.

As his father dropped a mask into his lap, Draco could only think one word, repeated over and over in his mind.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Which was odd, considering that he had never been one to use profanity.

He knew that he had no choice. It was this or death. And to die right now would do nothing to protect her.

Fuck.

His father was calling. He had to go. He didn't want to. He didn't think that he could take it...

The last rational thought that he had before going completely numb was to realize that he hadn't eaten dinner. In his deranged state of mind, he didn't think that it was a particularly strange thing to notice at a time like this. Logic was beyond him.

*

"No, really, it was almost a complete accident that I found it... Well, I mean, I'd heard it mentioned, but I never dreamed that it would just be sitting there," Hermione explained, trying to hide how uncomfortable she felt with so many bodies pressed around her that were anxious for answers. Not to mention that the words flowing from her mouth were sounding less intelligent by the second.

"There's a saying in my tongue, that magic can only be found if it wants to be found," a witch to rival Dumbledore in age told her in an accent that Hermione couldn't quite place.

Hermione squinted at her, positive that she hadn't noticed the woman before, but was prevented from inquiring by a voice from behind her.

"Miss Granger, I believe."

She shuddered as a cool hand brushed the small of her back, and turned reluctantly away from the group she was conversing with.

"Yes?"

"I owe you an apology, I think."

She tried with all her might not to shy away from the man who was breathing down her neck. She recognized his drawl as that of the man who had challenged her during her presentation, though his appearance was difficult to recall, but at the moment revenge was far from her thoughts. All she wanted was to get away.

When she made no reply, he persisted. "If you don't mind, I would like to do so over a dance."

She frantically tried to think of a way to refuse him without provocation, but her chest had tightened with fear and the glass of champagne in her hand trembled.

"She is taken."

If anything, the sense of anxiety tripled at the sound of another, even more familiar voice. What the hell was Viktor Krum doing here?

"Herm-own-ninny," he said once the other man had walked off, brushing her arm with his fingers.

"Viktor." She still didn't turn as she spoke. And he still couldn't pronounce her bloody name right. "Fancy meeting you here."

She wasn't entirely sure why she was being so cold to him. It wasn't as if they had ended on poor terms; the distance had simply become too much to handle. A small part of her whispered that it was because she knew Severus was watching her from across the room and she didn't want him to think...

She let the thought trail off--it was one that was better left alone.

"I thought that since you vere coming, it vould be nice to see you. Your presentation was very good."

His accent had improved somewhat, she thought absently as her teacher speaking stiltedly to a woman that was flirting caught her eye.

Now that was a sight. She grinned at the idea of Severus trying to escape and turned to Viktor with a smile.

"Yes, it is nice. I haven't heard from you in quite a while..."

"Ven you stopped answering my letters..."

Was that an accusing tone? Sweet Merlin, someone had explained how to create verbal emotion in a way that made her shift slightly with guilt.

"Look, I'm really really sorry about that," she told him, meeting his gaze. "I was having a bit of a tough time and I didn't think that you needed to hear... What I mean is it wasn't anything to do with you, life just went a little crazy on me."

He smiled a little sadly, in a way that reminded her of a kicked puppy.

"If you want to start writing again, I'll actually reply," she tried, wishing he would stop looking at her like that.

His expression didn't change, but he said, "I think you haff--how do you say?--grown up."

Feeling puzzled, she looked down at a crack in the floor and studied it extensively for a moment before replying, "I hope, for my own sake, if no one else's, that I have."

They shared a moment of silence, before she noticed Severus making gestures at her to come and help him escape from cleavage-woman.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to go rescue someone," she told him. "It was nice seeing you again."

As she strode away, she looked reluctantly back at the man she was leaving behind and felt a stab of pity for him, before brushing it aside. He was a world-famous athlete. No doubt he would forget her name within minutes of being surrounded by fans and all the better for both of them.

When she remembered to look, she noticed with a muttered curse that the old woman had disappeared.

*

"Ginny, dear, what are you reading?"

"I'm working on my Transfiguration homework," she lied quickly, slipping the self defense book that she had smuggled from the nearby muggle library into the crack in the armchair and trying desperately to keep her face impassive.

It wouldn't matter to Molly Weasley that two of the off-duty aurors had come with her as bodyguards or that everything done had been perfectly within the law (with, perhaps, the exception of Tonks disabling the barcode detector at the entrance so that the librarian wouldn't notice as the book was removed from the premises). These were dangerous times and Mrs. Weasley either failed or refused to notice that her youngest child was teetering on the edge of sixteen. Not to mention that the last thing Ginny need was for anyone to ask her why she was reading about martial arts when she had a wand at her disposal.

She stole a glance over at Harry, who was innocently losing at chess to Ron.

"Do you need help with anything?" she asked, trying desperately to sound like someone trying to escape the inescapable reality of work. "I can help do the dishes if you'd like."

"No, everything's quite all right. Just go back to your homework."

But Ginny didn't return to the book. Not while everyone was still staring at her. Rather, she fingered her wand and pondered what her odds would be if Harry did attack her. She would really rather not use magic--it would mean having to explain where explanation could be dangerous--but if she did then there would be a fairly good chance of her getting let off of the hook, even though she would have a black mark beside her name. Her best hope at the moment was to continue on with what she had been doing--avoiding him. But if that failed...

With a grim resolve, she pulled the book back onto her lap and began to read where she had left off. If that failed, then she would be ready using whatever means necessary.

*

A gloved hand tapping him on the shoulder relieved him of the woman trying in vain to catch his interest. She was a shapely blonde--pretty, he admitted--but all of that had been lost on him twenty seconds into the conversation, when he began to doubt her ability to string an intelligent sentence together. So it was with more than gratitude that he turned to receive Hermione.

"Dance with me," she hissed between clenched teeth. "Viktor Krum is over there, and I think I just completely shot him down but he doesn't realise it yet. I really don't want to have to talk to him again just yet."

"That idiot of a Quidditch player that took you to the Yule--"

"Yes, him," she snapped, seizing his hands and beginning to sway carefully to the music. "Now don't just stand there--help me!"

Severus sent a scornful glance over his shoulder at the woman by the punch bowl, before agreeing readily.

*

"You will have until the Hallowe'en feast--a little more than three months--to gain this trust you say that you lack. No more. You are dismissed."

Lucius Malfoy gripped his son's shoulder and they disappeared from sight, apparating onto the lawn of Malfoy Manor. For a moment, neither of them spoke and it was all Draco could do to disguise the horrible shaking feeling inside. He started at the feeling of a firm pressure on his arm but forced himself remain motionless.

"Relax. Your fear makes you weak."

"Yes, father," Draco replied, swallowing hard as he tried to forget his first face-to-face encounter with the Dark Lord.

"Do you see now that this is the only way?"

Draco held back what was on the tip of his tongue. The only way for a coward.

"I would have spared you this until you were older, but I was overruled."

He shrunk back at this revelation. Was his father actually admitting to feeling something? It was a frightening thought--one with the power to shatter all of Draco's resolutions.

Lucius shook his head and began to head inside. Without turning his head, he added in his usual cold tone, "You are my son and will do what you must. A true Slytherin and, more importantly, a Malfoy. If I have managed to teach you anything, let that be it."

The older man disappeared through the carved stone doors, leaving his son to contemplate the meaning of his words.

Do what you must...

*

The breeze stirring the air was warm as Hermione approached the edge of the balcony, eyes fixed on the fountain below. Severus came up behind her and she leaned back into him, inhaling his scent deeply.

"It's a beautiful evening," she murmured into his cloak.

"Indeed."

One of his arms slid around her waist and she let it rest there, trying to keep her breathing from speeding up as he leaned down to whisper into her ear.

"Almost as lovely as you."

She twisted around to look at him, trying not to look too pleased by this.

"Was that a compliment, Professor Snape?"

"What did you take it for, Miss Granger?"

She grinned up at him before abandoning all caution to the wolves and pulling his head down to hers, burying her fingers in his hair and allowing his lips to caress her throat gently.

"It's a pity that I forgot my turtleneck," she commented when he finally subsided.

He raised an eyebrow at her in question and she smiled innocently.

"I have a feeling that I'll be wanting it tomorrow."

She felt him chuckle and he resumed, not quite so gently this time.

"Can you imagine the reaction if someone saw us?" she giggled to him.

"Just picture the headlines..."

"Outrage."

"Scandal."

"Everyone from here to Tokyo would know..."

"And there would be a large movement to preserve your virtue..."

"Harry or Ron would challenge you to a duel."

"Which I would of course win."

"Don't be so modest," she teased.

"I'm perfectly serious. They would be scraping the entrails off of the walls for months."

"Severus..." she reprimanded, fighting to keep from laughing.

"Hermione..." he replied, imitating her tone. "No, really, I'm quite enjoying the images coming from this. To do away with Potter..." he sighed wistfully, making Hermione giggle again. "Is there anyone's attention we can attract?"

"Viktor Krum," Hermione suggested, peering over his shoulder into the hall. "If we can tear him away from that woman you were talking to earlier--her cleavage, rather."

"That could prove interesting..."

"Or how about the creep who was breathing down my neck earlier..."

Severus stiffened. "You failed to mention that."

"Relax, he didn't do anything. It was just the idiot who made a scene during my presentation--I suppose that it was his version of an apology."

"If he comes near you again--"

"Don't worry, I can take care of myself," she assured him.

"I seem to recall that line from you before," he pointed out acidly. "Only last time it had several conveniently placed adverbs."

Hermione felt the heat rise up in her face. "I've apologized for that already!"

"I know..." he sighed heavily. "Can you forgive a selfish old bastard?"

The anger drained from her as quickly as it had come and she wrapped her arms around him carefully.

"Of course I can."

*

When they finally returned to the flat, it was well after four in the morning and Hermione could barely keep from teetering dangerously in her heels. She leaned wearily on Severus as he unlocked the door and nearly fell asleep in the process.

"Have I mentioned that your hair looks particularly nice like that?" she commented blearily, staring at him through half-open eyes as he led her inside.

"Several times," he yawned. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Just water," she mumbled. "Please."

He disappeared into the tiny kitchen, and she flopped down on his bed, too tired to realize that her impossible hair was becoming mussed in the process. She closed her eyes, intending to only rest them for a moment as she awaited Severus's return, but when she next opened them, she was attired in her pajamas with the dress hanging over a nearby chair, swathed in blankets, with the sun streaming through the open window. The faint scent of breakfast wafted towards her and she realized that she was as ravenous as she was reluctant to move. Gradually, she dragged herself out of the bed and padded into the next room, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Severus.

"There's eggs on the stove," he informed her, taking a sip of coffee. "And sausages as well."

"What time is... I thought you couldn't cook..." she mumbled, yawning hugely.

"It's not quite eleven, and my extremely limited culinary skills do extend to scrambled eggs and sausage."

She stared at him blearily before making her way to the stove.

"No more morning coffee for you, I think," she said dryly. "There were too many big words in that sentence."

He chuckled as she sat back down and attempted to stab a bit of egg with her fork unsuccessfully.

"By the way, did you..." She flushed and looked away, unsure of how to broach the subject. "The clothes," she managed to choke out finally. "Did you change them?"

"It was a spell," he replied, looking amused. "I saw nothing."

Her blush deepened and she began to giggle embarrassedly.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" she commented, changing the topic with her typical subtlety. "We don't want to waste it."

*

By noon the next day, Ginny had already learned how to break someone's grip on her neck, remove a person who was sitting on you, block a punch, and take out an attacker's knees. In theory. She was now wishing with all of her might that she had someone to practice with, but there was no one who wouldn't become suspicious if she asked. Well, maybe Mad-Eye Moody, but he would probably hex her by accident... She really didn't need that.

Fred or George might, but they were living in Hogsmeade, which presented a problem. Ron would look at her as if she were insane. Harry... definitely not. The Order were all too busy with fighting Voldemort, so they were out. Except for perhaps Lupin...

She furrowed her brow in thought. He most likely would agree to help, if she could work up the nerve to approach him.

It wasn't that he frightened her. Not in the least. It was just that since the death of his friend last year, he had kept mostly to himself and only spoke when spoken to. Everything he did was done with a careful patience, making him ideal for Ginny's purpose. And his withdrawn behavior would work to her advantage--the less said the better.

She headed out of her bedroom, trying to establish Remus Lupin's most likely location.

The kitchen?

She poked her head in, saw her mother washing dishes, and made a run for it.

Sitting room?

Multiple chess and exploding snap games, but still no Lupin.

Attic?

Not unless he preferred inhaling dust bunnies to oxygen.

Library?

Didn't appear to be... No, wait, over in the corner...

She approached him carefully--he had been spending a lot of time around Moody, after all.

"Um, excuse me?" she said unsurely, the words coming out as a question.

He looked up, shifting in the armchair and smiling kindly.

"Miss Weasley, this is a pleasant surprise."

He motioned that she should sit opposite him, and she obeyed without comment.

"Actually, sir, I was wondering if you could help me with something."

He leaned forward, his alert eyes focused on her in interest and Ginny realized with a degree of shock that he hadn't lost his marbles yet, as everyone seemed to suppose. In fact, he seemed even saner than ever.

"You see, I'm in a bit of a--situation--at the moment... It's complicated... And I was wondering--if you had any spare time--if it would be possible to learn muggle self defense."

She winced at his ponderous silence.

"It's a stupid idea, I know--" she tried when he didn't reply.

"Not at all," he objected. "But why come to me?"

She tried not to flush under his piercing gaze as she replied, "You're the only person in the house who won't ask questions."

"I see... This is about Harry, isn't it?"

"I'd really rather not discuss it," she said shortly.

He nodded once. "That's what I thought."

She looked at him with bewilderment. "How did you know?"

Lupin's jaw tightened slightly as he told her, somewhat angrily, "Anyone with half a brain should be able to see that Harry isn't the boy he used to be. That includes--"

He stopped abruptly and moved to the window.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"It's all right."

"I'm quite surprised that you would choose a physical defense over magic," he commented after a lull.

She had the feeling that he was testing her in some way, but she didn't know what for, so she made the safest reply she could think of.

"What if, for some reason, I can't use magic?"

He turned and faced her once again.

"You're far ahead of most of the wizarding world in your thinking. They seem to feel that anything not involving magic is not worthwhile."

Ginny heard an underlying bitterness in his tone, but chose not to comment.

"Can you help me?" she asked, desperately wanting a straight answer.

He sighed heavily and met her gaze. "I can try."

*

Hermione and Severus leaned against the towering statue of Johann Sebastian Bach, Hermione drinking from a bottle of water while looking every inch the diligent student in a white blouse, unbuttoned to reveal a camisole of the same colour, knee-length plain black skirt finished with slightly heeled sandals and Severus staring up dubiously.

"Nice hair," he commented finally, referring to the statue.

"Not as nice as yours," she replied, grinning.

"I resent that."

"I thought you would. So, shall we go in?"

The first thing that struck Severus upon entering the museum was the blinding whiteness of the walls. He blinked, then refocused on the original scores of music displayed in glass cases and the harpsichord in the corner. Beside him, Hermione reached out to brush the instrument lightly with her fingers, about to ignore the cord that was blocking it off before thinking better of it and moved towards the headphones available to listen to the music. After a moment, he heard the faint sound of her humming to a menuet that she was listening to. He found himself caught by the graceful way she wove through the display, completely engrossed, and something welled up inside of him--a sense of pride that he had helped bring her to this point and something else... something not so straightforward.

Rather than dwell on it, he studied the score more closely, finding fascination in the fact that dots drawn on lines could create something so much more while shutting out the titters of a large group of tourists that had entered the room. He began wandering from room to room, studying the portraits (the man really was in desperate need of a new wig or stylist or something...) and nearly walking into a bust that some incompetent person had placed directly in his way. When Hermione caught up to him, he was leafing through a pamphlet that he couldn't understand due to linguistic difficulties.

"I didn't think that you'd be this interested," she commented to him as he set down the leaflet.

"You weren't alone," he replied, glancing curiously at the box in her hands. "What is that?"

"A gift for my mother. It's a bust of Bach."

"I see... Shall we go, then?"

"Right, I wanted to talk about we're going to do next. I know you wanted to visit the apothecary's, but I was talking to the woman at the front desk and she told me about this thing--it's called Ebers' papyrus and it's on display at some museum... in a building called Thuringer Hof, where there's some sort of Egyptian display, I think she said. It's a sort of scroll full of ancient Egyptian potions and such... I thought you might be interested. Apparently it's usually kept in the university library, where it's not open to the public."

He looked at the clock hanging on the wall and replied, "Well, we still have plenty of time, don't we? Why don't we do both?"

She nodded. "That works."

Shifting the position of the box under her arm, she led the way out.

"Why don't we drop that off at the flat first?" he suggested dryly. "Otherwise I have this feeling I'll be carrying it by the end of the day."

"You're a bright one... Anyway, it's just down the street," came the casual remark.

He sighed, thinking how typical it was for her to go about arranging things without waiting to check with him, then smiled remembering a time when the only person who had done so was Albus and, well, this was different.

*

It took a while for them to locate the museum, mostly due to Severus's navigating skills and when they finally found it, half an hour had passed and Hermione's purchase had, as predicted, changed hands.

"I don't see why you couldn't just ask for directions. It was only just down the street. Now we won't have time for anything else," she teased as they pushed their way through the glass doors and paused as Severus paid. "At least this time the map wasn't of Moscow or something."

As he did, Hermione studied a glass case containing a wooden sarcophagus several feet tall with intricately carved hieroglyphics.

"It's hard to imagine such a different civilization," she murmured when she felt him approach.

His mouth curved in silent agreement, and he offered her his arm as they walked up the polished stone steps companionably. When they reached the display of artifacts, they split up without a word and silently examined the display.

Hermione winced as she moved around display cases; painfully aware of the value of the objects that she was passing and the balance she had in her current choice of footwear. So absorbed was she in trying to walk straight, that she nearly walked straight into a display case. Veering at the last second, her ankle turned and she was forced to make a remarkable recovery before smashing headlong into another display. She leaned over the item she had nearly broken to cover up her near miss--damn these heels--and furrowed her brow, imagining the cost of the scarab. Glancing up, she blushed as she noticed that nearly everyone had paused to watch her escapades and hurriedly looked back down, ignoring the faint laughter that reached her ears.

Eventually overcoming her mortification, she straightened and joined Severus at the wall, where an eighteen-metre scroll was hanging slightly above eye-level with almost every possible space covered in arcane characters.

"Imagine what we could learn from them," he whispered in her ear, "if only they had written the right things down."

She looked up at him curiously, trying to fathom the meaning of his words.

"Dark wizards are hardly a recent acquisition," he explained before she could say anything.

She leaned in to squint at it before turning to him, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

"Well, I don't see what's so special about it," she commented airily, about to walk away. "The ancient Egyptians came up with it, and they only invented the wheel."

His bewildered expression quickly turned to amusement. "This is somewhat more significant than a rolling suitcase."

She laughed before replying, "But the wheel is used for far more than just suitcases... But, you know, I'm not even sure that the Egyptians did invent the wheel, now that you mention it. Might have been the Greeks..."

His only reply was to curl his lip into a sneer, which would have been far more frightening had he been able to keep a straight face. Mutely, they went their separate ways once again until they met up as if by agreement at the top of the staircase.

"Dinner?" Severus suggested.

She nodded. "I saw a place next door on the way in. I think it has German cuisine," he continued, leading her to the main floor and out into the street.

"Aren't we just the expert today?" she teased him.

*

"So you live here then?" Hermione asked, approaching the people who were standing a short ways away from her, growing impatient with Severus. How long did it take to go to the washroom anyway? Especially considering the gender factor.

The two young women and man nodded and Hermione flashed a smile.

"Must be nice..." she sighed. "It's so beautiful."

They were still looking at her in a puzzled manner, and Hermione could see why. Judging by the black clothing and dark eye make-up, these were most likely people who were generally used to being avoided and not having random tourists come over and attempt conversations.

"I like your boots," she added to the girl on her left, referring to the knee-high lace-ups she was wearing.

Her smile was polite, albeit somewhat confused, and Hermione had to laugh.

"I'm sorry, I don't usually do this... You do speak English, right? Because I'd feel really stupid if you didn't."

"Of course we do," the only male in the group confirmed.

"That's a relief. Look, I'm really sorry for just barging up to you and starting a conversation. It must be really awkward for you. The person I'm waiting for is just coming... I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. It was nice to meet you!"

She waved at them before hurrying over to Severus, who was exiting the restaurant and eyeing the strangers suspiciously.

"Were they harassing you?" he questioned.

"Oh, no, it was more the other way around," she replied lightly.

"Are you sure? Because they look like they could belong to a cult of some sort... Perhaps even undercover Death Eaters."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, they're just Goths!"

"Well, that's certainly a relief," he replied sarcastically.

"They're just ordinary people," she shot back defensively. "When I was a kid, our neighbors had an exchange student from Hamburg stay with them for a few months and she was one... She as perfectly polite and respectful--more so, even--as anyone else and no offense, but judging by most people's standards, you're in no position to judge anyone by aesthetics."

He chuckled at this remark, but Hermione wasn't finished.

"Besides, just look around and see how many there are. Why would He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named bother sending this many people here. I mean, really. When you think world domination, you don't exactly think Leipzig."

"All right, you win!" he laughed, raising his arms in surrender. "But still... didn't your parents teach you not to talk to strangers?"

She smacked him on the arm as they began walking. "So," she asked, "Where to now?"

*

Hermione slipped into the flat after him and waited on the couch with her legs drawn up. After supper, they had gone dancing and he had whirled her around so hard that she had nearly fallen. She had laughed so much in the last few hours that her abdomen hurt and even now, she could barely hold back giggles--over what she wasn't sure. Presently, as he came out of the kitchen bearing two glasses of champagne and smiling, she felt her stomach do another one of the flip-flops that it had been doing all evening.

"Whatever happened to no under-age drinking?" she teased, taking the one he offered her. "You are responsible for me."

"Two months early shouldn't make much of a difference," he replied with a slight smile, raising his glass. "To you, my dear, for the best display I've seen in a long time--putting a grown man in his place."

She looked at him shyly, before adding, "And to you, for helping me do it."

They clinked the glasses together and each took a sip. Hermione spluttered for a moment afterwards.

"It's very... bubbly," she commented once she had swallowed properly. "But good."

Severus looked amused through half-closed eyes. "How observant."

They finished their drinks in silence, and once they had Hermione glanced at him sideways through her lashes.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For the champagne?" he asked. "It was nothing."

"Not just the champagne, all of this." She waved her hand around as she spoke, gazing directly into his eyes. "The experience or opportunity or whatever you want to call it. It's been wonderful."

If asked later, neither of them would be able to explain what had happened. One moment the were on opposite ends of the couch, the next, Hermione was pushed up against one of the arms with Severus's mouth was fastened on hers, bringing with it a multitude of sensations that she had never felt before. She wasn't completely sure what she was doing, but she was acutely aware of every one of his movements--his hands tracing her outline as they helped her out of her blouse and fingering the strap of her camisole before it slid down her shoulder, the heaving of his chest as he breathed on her neck, the ends of his hair brushing against her skin, and oh, God, what was that pressing against her leg... In the vortex that was her mind she knew only one thing. She didn't ever want it to stop.

Gently, she began to first finger the collar of his shirt--then, when that proved to not be enough, unbutton it. Finishing off the rest of the buttons, she slid her hands down his pale torso, enjoying the warmth that seemed to reverberate off of him.

He began kissing his way down her neck and along her collarbone while she shifted so that her legs were twined around one of his. His mouth found a sensitive spot on the back of her shoulder and it sent sparks shooting through her brain so suddenly that she couldn't resist a moan. She moved her hands further down his body until they were at his hips and, curiously, ran them delicately across his lower torso and over the bulge that had formed there. His resulting gasp was more than worth it.

"Dear gods, Hermione..."

Somehow, the sound of her name on his tongue like that did more for her than anything else had so far. His hand began finding its way up her skirt and for a moment she wondered if she had any degree of self-control left, but then the thought was quickly replaced by a burning need to kiss him, to know every inch of him...

In the midst of it all, he paused and straightened, eyes alert.

"Did you hear something?"

Bewildered, she shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her and a faint crackling reached her ears.

"The wards," he whispered. "They're being tested."

Her eyes widened in fear and she stared at him in a manner reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights.

"Quick," he ordered, his voice still hushed. "Before they break through. Grab your bags. We need to get out."

She jumped to her feet, adjusting the strap of her shirt and straightening her skirt as she darted into her bedroom, thankful that she had kept almost everything in her suitcase. What wasn't already packed was tossed in frantically and just before leaving she remembered the bust of Bach, which she snatched up as an afterthought along with a small vial of her potion that was not under lock and key.

When she returned to the main room, she took a sip from the flask and handed it over, Severus doing the same. Then, he wordlessly grabbed her arm and they disapparated, leaving only two empty crystal glasses and a white blouse strewn over one arm of the sofa as a sign that they had been there.