Survival of the Fittest

“Today wasn’t so bad,” mused Hermione as she prepared for bed. She had escorted the students to Hogsmeade station and had wished them a happy holiday. She had intended to join them on the train, but her parents had owled her at the last minute with a change of plans.

It did sting a little that they would rather spend Christmas in some tropical paradise than with her. It wasn’t as though this were her first Christmas at Hogwarts. The only difference was that Harry and Ron weren’t here. She would have no one to open presents with.

The only bright side to the whole change in plans was seeing Professor Flitwick’s decorations. They truly had been magnificent during dinner as the enchanted snow fell without ever reaching its destination above the tables in the Great Hall. Two gigantic trees flanked the head tables thanks to Hagrid, who had traveled to France to be with Madam Maxine. Filius had delighted in decorating them with ribbons and ornaments.

He had also seen fit to place mistletoe at every entrance and exit within the castle, which Professor Dumbledore had delighted in pointing out with embarrassing accuracy. He had given her several grandfatherly pecks on the cheek whenever he caught her standing under the mistletoe.

Thankfully, Snape was nowhere to be seen. Was it possible the great greasy bat of the dungeons was on holiday? Had he actually gone somewhere? If so, where had he gone? Why did it matter to her? She hadn’t seen him since their points duel in the library. That was a blessing in disguise, wasn’t it? After all, she didn’t have to demonstrate the “modicum of civility” around him that the headmaster had requested.

Crawling into bed, Hermione pulled the duvet over her as an errant thought danced through her mind. She actually missed Snape.

--

Pushing his plate away, Severus flipped the Potions journal open and enjoyed the silence. This was the way it should be. There were no dunderheads underfoot, no staff to make idle chitchat with, and most importantly, no bushy-haired Know-It-Alls glaring at him over her soup bowl.

Perhaps a long overdue visit to Knockturn Alley was in order. He could exorcise the little demon that had taunted his thoughts ever since her arrival. That blasted...meddler, Dumbledore! He had hired Hermione Granger just to vex him.

It wasn’t bad enough that he had one of the bloody golden trio constantly underfoot. He had her underfoot – the one member of said trio who had meandered her way unknowingly into his dreams.

They weren’t just typical, run-of-the-mill dreams. They were erotic dreams, her writhing beneath him, on top of him.

Shaking the disquieting thought from his mind, Severus snapped the journal in front of him and tried to concentrate.

His solitude was short-lived as his fire turned green and Dobby’s quivering voice asked, “Is you finished, Professor?”

“You may come through and collect the dishes,” Severus instructed, barely looking up from his journal and stifling a yawn.

The flame roared and the house-elf walked into the room, wringing his bandaged hands together in the usual way. Dobby was going against Dumbledore’s order and the house-elf, though free, had yet to reconcile himself to disobeying orders.

Severus scoffed. The old wizard thought he could starve him out of the dungeons. That was not bound to happen anytime soon. He had been a spy in the Dark Lord’s ranks for so long he had developed many skills. Dumbledore was delusional if he thought this would make any difference.

There was no way he would treat Hermione Granger any differently.

Dobby had been bringing him his meals ever since his first run-in with Granger. The house-elf was rather easy to manipulate, especially when Dobby was being blackmailed. Severus had told Dobby that he would have him sacked for stealing the gillyweed during the Triwizard Tournament. Albus wasn’t the only wizard at Hogwarts who had found the value of gossiping portraits useful.

“How is Professor feeling?” squeaked Dobby as he hovered near Severus.

Severus stifled another yawn and did not answer. He started to read the article in front of him with a renewed vigor of blocking out the sounds of the ticking clock on the mantle and Dobby’s loud, labored breathing. Becoming increasingly irritated over his inability to concentrate, Severus slammed the journal down and glared at Dobby.

“What do you want?” Severus snapped.

Shrieking, Dobby ran behind the divan. His large ears flopping, the house-elf looked at his blackmailer.

If the elf thought he was going to pay him for his services, he was out of his mind! “Well, get on with it,” Severus commanded.

Dobby’s ears flattened as if he was an angry animal and he straightened to his full height.

Oh Gods, please! Not another story about Saint Potter!

“Dobby won’t bring Professor’s meals any more,” the house-elf affirmed, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding.

Severus shook his head, trying to clear a sudden unwanted fog away.

“No one will hire you for wages outside Hogwarts,” he stated softly, managing to keep the anger out of his voice. The impertinence!

If it were possible, Dobby’s ears flattened even more, almost threateningly. “Headmaster knows Dobby took the gillyweed and has forgiven him.”

Severus threw down his journal and jumped up, the room spinning as he did so. He closed his eyes and the spinning sensation worsened. If Dumbledore knew about the gillyweed, what was the old man up to? Flopping down into his chair, he opened his eyes in the hopes of normalcy.

He watched as the house-elf backed away nervously, looking from side to side guiltily.
Glancing from his plate to the traitorous elf, Severus grimaced.

“What have you done?” he growled.

Dobby squeaked and continued backing away from the dishes and the angry wizard.

“Headmaster gave Dobby a raise,” the house-elf explained softly, “and socks.”

Severus tried to get up and walk, but the poison in his system prevented him from getting very far and he collapsed on the floor. Albus Dumbledore was going to –

The thought was lost as he succumbed to oblivion.

--

The gentle sound of rolling waves invaded her dreams. Smiling in her sleep, Hermione wiggled her bum invitingly against something warm. She wanted to wrap herself in that warm something and travel deeper into the realm of Morpheus. Severus would be there waiting for her.

Only in her dreams did he welcome her. Only in her dreams did he embrace her and claim her as his. He never spoke in those dreams. They were filled with the physical…the almost blissful act of heated intimacy she could only dream of.

Severus Snape would no more look at her with passionate desire than he would a house-elf. Seven years of demeaning remarks and harsh words had shown her the truth. He was no different than Draco Malfoy – a Slytherin snob.

The sound of the waves lapping at the shore mimicked her betraying desires. She wanted him. She needed him. There was no shame as she welcomed his lustful advances. Sighing on the cusp of sleep, she shifted and moaned as his hands clutched her arse and pulled her against his rigidity.

Lips melded, his tongue gaining entrance against hers easily. The kiss ended abruptly as Severus pulled away and scowled.

The dream shattered as a loud voice boomed, “Dumbledore!”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and her hazy bewilderment quickly turned into a harsh reality. The man of her erotic dreams stood over her, scowling as though she was covered in boils.

He turned quickly on his heel and continued to shout and wave his fist in the air.

“You bloody menace!” he raged and clawed at his clothing like a wild man.

Blushing, she peered through the curtain of her hair and endured the shame of her desire. He wore black pants and a loose white shirt. The pants clung to his arse, giving her a view she’d never been afforded in all her years as a student. Looking past him, she gasped.

She was in the middle of a large heart-shaped bed. On the ceiling and walls were mirrors.

“My wand,” Severus seethed. “He took my wand!”

Still taking in her surroundings, Hermione turned to see sunlight streaming into the room through a large window. She looked out the window in awe. The brightest blue water danced along pristine sand, luring her to forget about the fuming wizard who was pacing the length of the room and cursing the headmaster to Hades.

She should be humiliated, but it wasn’t easy not to give in the easily categorical litany of why she loathed a particular Potions instructor. Sniffing the air, Hermione ignored the angry wizard’s rant as he slammed the door behind him.

“Gods, I’m famished,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the picturesque sight through the window. A table set for two with various selections appeared next to the window.

Running her hands over her body to smooth her nightgown down, she rolled off the bed, stood up, and walked over to the table. A loud slam impeded her delight. It was as though she were still dreaming. That was a possibility. Everything here seemed beyond surreal. Her normally sharp wit seemed dull and lacking. She\'d only felt like this once before when she had taken had taken a Sleeping Draught after the final battle.

It was very difficult waking up from a peaceful night’s sleep when one was essentially medicated. Half the day was over before she had felt set to right.

“Drugged me! Stole me wand!” Snape shouted as he stormed past the picture window.

Hermione picked up a strawberry and examined it. It was a brilliant red, just like the duvet on the outlandish bed.

“Albus!” Snape shouted, the echo ringing in her head.

She bit into the strawberry and sat down at the table, pulling a plate toward her and loading it with various fruits. The coffee poured itself from the carafe into her cup and she actually thanked the magical item as it carried out the task.

“Albus!” Another echo rang in her head as boots stomped across the wooden floor. “I can’t Disapparate, you ruddy bastard!”

Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle. Yep, this was definitely a dream…a somewhat realistic dream, but a dream, nonetheless. Professor Dumbledore would never do something so absurd.

Severus stomped into the room and glared at her. “You!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, minimally irritated over Dream Snape’s inability to simply relax and enjoy himself.

“Do pipe down, Severus,” a serene yet firm voice spoke from the other room. “We could hear you shouting all the way in the Great Hall. Perhaps I should have given you the Calming Draught like Miss Granger.”

Smiling, Hermione popped a grape into her mouth. So that’s why I feel so relaxed. Merlin knows, I should feel anything but, especially with Snape here. She glanced at Professor Snape, who, it seemed, had suddenly lost the ability to speak. She snorted. Merlin’s beard, he looked pissed off.

“Drop the Disapparition wards this instant,” Severus commanded as Dumbledore strode into the bedroom.

Hermione snorted again, expecting the Hogwarts’ Potions master to stamp his foot like a petulant child.

Albus walked over to the table and sat down. He started piling his plate with fruit and muffins. “I will do nothing of the sort, Severus.”

“You have crossed the line, old man,” Snape hissed. “You drugged me and kidnapped me. I demand to be released at once!”

“This is so much better than television,” Hermione sighed dreamily as she buttered a piece of toast, still convinced this was part of her dream.

Severus took a step toward the table and pointed at Hermione with a look of disgust on his face. “You’ve obviously drugged her too, you senile wart! For pity sake, she’s acting like Trelawney!”

“Hey!” Hermione scowled. “I’m not spouting off predictions of an untimely death for you, am I?”

Albus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why would you care who Miss Granger acts like, Severus? You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about her.”

“Feel about her?” Snape shouted. “I feel nothing for the irritant you have saddled me with.”

Hermione’s scowl deepened. Prat!

Clearly having lost his appetite, Albus pushed his plate away and stood up. “Nevertheless, you will take this opportunity to master the ability to temper your animosity toward her.”

Hermione scoffed.

“I shan’t –” Severus started, but was cut short when Albus lifted his hand to silence him.

“Think of it as a workshop if you must,” Dumbledore continued. “You and Miss Granger will learn to respect one another and each other’s position at Hogwarts. I cannot have my faculty having wizarding duels in front of the students.”

“I’ve demonstrated remarkable restraint by not hexing his bollocks off, Headmaster,” Hermione chuckled mirthlessly, wanting to have some say in her dream. “He’s rude, arrogant, bullies the students –”

“That’s enough, Miss Granger,” Severus warned.

“And that’s another thing,” she said. “Your attempts to intimidate me aren’t going to work. I survived seven years of your tutelage , so –”

\"SILENCE\" boomed Albus as he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and held it between the witch and the wizard.

“Both of you are on vacation for however long it takes to resolve your issues,” the elder wizard explained, taking a calming breath. “This is where I’ve sent you. Neither of you have wands. I have taken them away as a precautionary measure. Even if you had wands, they would not work. I have wards in place to prevent either of you from using magic. That includes wand-less magic, Severus. The cottage is enchanted and will provide all of your needs.”

“If you think I’m going to spend time here…with her , you are sorely mistaken.” Severus’ tone was flat and dull, the tone he normally reserved while reporting Death Eater activities. “I will not stay here. Upon the termination of this futile exercise, I fully intend to resign my position at Hogwarts and press formal charges against you, old man.”

Hermione watched as the bastard prince of the dungeons turned and walked out of the room and out of the cottage. Even in her dreams, she could never imagine Snape being so disrespectful of Dumbledore.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Hermione asked while trying to stifle a yawn.

The twinkle in the headmaster’s eyes returned. “Severus’ bark is much worse than his bite. He’ll come back. Of that I am sure.”

Grinning, Hermione stared at Albus. Everything was still so foggy she couldn’t help but giggle. “The view is spectacular, Professor Dumbledore. This will be a wonderful vacation. I can hardly wait to go swimming.”

She stood up and swayed on her feet. Grasping her elbow, Albus guided her toward the bed. “Perhaps you should go back to bed. Perhaps Dobby put too much Sleeping Draught in your pumpkin juice.”

Letting him guide her, Hermione crawled onto the bed, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I wonder if there is any way I can fast forward my dream. Now that Severus is gone, I feel that I can truly enjoy my vacation.”

Dumbledore brushed her wild hair off her cheek. “I’m afraid it truly will be a working vacation. Just remember that his bark really is worse than his bite. He’s going to get worse before he gets better. So I must beg your patience with him. You are just what he needs.”

His words whispered in her mind as the sound of the waves lulled her back to sleep.

*****