Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130141 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 31
- 32
- 33
A/N: I am so sorry for the interruption in my weekly updates. I only had one day off from work last week because of a change in my days off and updating was outright impossible. And now...my therapist says I have tendinitis in my hand, as if breaking my wrist wasn't enough :) Technically I shouldn't be writing as she said do NOTHING with my hand, but I must be a glutton for punishment. I'm just literally in pain 24/7 while this stupid hand heals. *deep breath* Okay so this is a little interlude before...more drama? I have a LOT more of this story to go if you can't tell. :D As always THANK YOU IMMENSELY for the reviews, I love them all. Even if you left a little heart in the review box, I am very pleased. By all means let me know what you think, as your thoughts and ideas keep this thing flowing!

Between barely making progress in the weekend Apparation lessons and not being able to roam freely about Hogsmeade, Ron was in rare form.

"We can still go for practice sessions," Hermione pointed out one afternoon in an attempt to cheer Ron up.

"Right," Ron said plaintively. "I won't be able to go into Honeydukes, but I can accidentally bang into its wall when I take a wrong turn at Apparation, all with Twycross and his bloody three D's looking on and giving critique. Gee, that sounds great."

"Well, you haven't gotten the hang of Apparation yet, but at least you didn't Splinch yourself," said Harry without looking up, hunched over and frowning slightly at his Marauder's Map.

The three were sat in the Gryffindor common room after dinner that Friday evening. Their earlier row which started in Potions had been forgotten about, and the boys came to the library where they had found Hermione, her bushy head hidden behind a large stack of books. Hermione had put the Horcrux research on hold briefly to tend to her own schoolwork. In the middle of a paragraph, she impatiently hissed at Ron and Harry to give her a minute, snatching back her book when Ron tried to take it out of her hand. It was sheer luck that Madam Pince hadn't been nearby, else she would have put all three of them out her library for making noise, something the boys definitely would not have minded. However, Hermione finally agreed to momentarily put off her studying when Ron threatened to take a bite out of her book after saying that he was hungry enough to do so.

Once they finally got to dinner, Ron gorged himself to the point where he almost had to be rolled out of the Great Hall. Now he was in his favourite chair beside the hearth in the Gryffindor common room, one leg slung over its arm while he rubbed his belly. Harry was in the chair opposite Ron, and Hermione was cross-legged on the floor, reading a slightly wrinkled copy of the Daily Prophet.

A sprinkle of students were also in the common room, some listening to the radio (Ron had paused to ask Dean to turn up the volume, as his favourite song by The Harpies was playing), while others carried on conversations with their mates. Parvati was chewing Lavender's ear off, going on about her new beau and showing her the charm bracelet he had given her for Valentine's day. Harry and Hermione overheard the entire conversation and both tried not to laugh as they simultaneously thought about the necklace that Lavender had given Ron that past Christmas, which spelled out My Sweetheart in fancy script. The week before Valentine's Day, Harry had joked that Lavender would give him a matching bracelet. Relief was an underwhelming word to describe how Ron felt when that weekend there was no bracelet, and he cheerfully passed on the sweets he had purchased for Lavender.

The three had been perplexed as to why Lavender thought Ron would like, never mind wear, something that most seventeen-year-old boys wouldn't be caught dead with.

"I'm surprised Neville didn't Splinch himself," Ron now chuckled. "I thought he would've been the first one to leave bits of himself around."

"Ron, that's not funny!" Hermione said firmly, briefly turning to glare at him.

During the last practice a handful of students had become Splinched, and the sounds of their cries had been horrifying. One boy managed to not make any noise, but passed out promptly after he had been reunited with his arm. He had been standing less than a foot away from Hermione and she witnessed the whole thing, and it took nearly until the next afternoon for her to rid her mind of that accident.

Harry was no better than Ron when it came to Apparition, but explained that he still wasn't all that fond of it. He was more concerned with each failed attempt to speak with Slughorn to get the memory that Dumbledore had been pressing him about for the longest.

"I still prefer flying," Harry said, "but I will admit that Apparition seems convenient, even if it still makes me want to vomit."

"You have bigger things to worry about," Hermione pointed out. "Next time you try to speak to Slughorn, maybe you should be a little more tactful instead of just bombarding him with questions."

"Hermione, I asked him politely as possible," Harry replied, sounding slightly offended. "What do you suggest, Hedwig delivering a hand-written invitation for us to have a chat over tea and scones?"

"Maybe you can do one another's hair," Ron suggested. "You can help him find a new way to wear his comb-over."

"No, but you know how you can get," Hermione said distractedly, completely absorbed in her newspaper and ignoring Ron's comment. She then looked up to find Harry scowling at her. "Harry, I don't mean to be insensitive, but you sometimes have this habit of jumping headfirst into things instead of treading a level course."

Harry continued to look daggers at Hermione, who was pointedly ignoring him by hiding behind the Prophet. "I guess you have a point," he finally admitted, thinking back to the way he just blurted out his question about Horcruxes to Slughorn. "He looked scared when I asked him, as if he was in some sort of trouble."

"Well, that's not surprising," Ron added. "If it's something to do with"— he lowered his voice— "You-Know-Who, then I would be scared too. I'd probably be waiting for Aurors to show up on my doorstep at any moment."

"Yeah, I 'spose," Harry mumbled. "Fine, then. I'll try your way, Hermione. I'll go for subtle, although it's not likely to make a huge difference."

"Just try, Harry," Hermione pleaded, now putting down the paper. "OK? It's obvious that Dumbledore needs you else he wouldn't have asked. And I'll still try the library to see if I can find anything."

"But you've been searching the library for how long? You still haven't found anything," Ron unhelpfully pointed out.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Hermione snapped, "but unless you've got a better idea the library is the only thing I can think of. I notice that you haven't bothered to help me look, either."

"Well, neither has Harry!" Ron protested, his mouth hanging open. "Why do I get yelled at?"

"Because you're the only one daft enough to say something about Hermione and her beloved library," Harry sniggered, shaking his head. "Even I know better than that."

Just then a small black, white, and brown cat slithered its way next to Hermione and plopped down on top of her bent knee.

"Whose cat is that?" Ron asked, eyeing the marbelised furball of fluff that was nuzzling its head against Hermione's hand, wanting to be petted.

"Peg," Hermione simply answered, tickling the wriggling cat beneath its chin.

"Who's Peg?"

"Fourth-year, sandy hair and glasses," Hermione answered, trying to jog Ron's short-term memory.

"Nope, no idea."

"Honestly, Ron. You're a prefect; the least you could do is know who your fellow Housemates are!"

"Pardon me for not being the bloody mayor of Gryffindor House!"

Dennis Creevey had been sitting nearby with Nigel, a younger student who was in awe of Harry and Ron and followed them around whenever possible. Both boys' mouths dropped open and they looked positively scandalised when Ron continued ranting, expressing himself by usage of particularly colourful words, until Hermione threatened to wash his mouth out with soap if he did not stop swearing.

"Crookshanks is going to pop out of nowhere and attack that cat for sitting in his space," Ron said, thankfully having finished with his bout of foul language.

"Crookshanks is dignified; he would never fight," Hermione sniffed, continuing to stroke the cat behind the ears. "Besides, he gets along with Marble."

"Who's Marble?"

"Peg's cat, Ronald! The cat on my lap."

"Oh."

"Ron," Harry began. "I know we haven't had a game in a while...but are you sure you weren't hit with a rogue bludger last go around?"

While the two carried on with their friendly bickering, a plan to help Harry was forming in Hermione's mind. It was obvious that Harry had no idea on how to lure information from someone. Hermione would easily admit that she had never been a person who mastered the art of the gift of gab, merely relying on politely asking for something she needed, hoping a nice tone would be enough. But Slughorn required different tactics, and Hermione knew just the person to ask for advice.

"Harry, I need to borrow your cloak and map again, if you don't mind."

Just as Harry was telling Hermione 'yes', Ron spun round to look her in the eye.

"One day you're gonna have to tell us how you sneak out so much without getting detention," he said peevishly.

"I'm not telling you anything," Hermione replied. "And besides, there are some things you're just better off not knowing."

"You've got that right. Dunno why Twycross felt bothered enough to tell us the one hundred ways someone can Splinch themselves and what happens if they do. I really didn't need to hear about some bloke being separated from his bits and how his mates had to Apparate back across the country just to find them."

"Ron's right," Harry said with a small shudder as he remembered the gory tale. All of the males had reflexively covered their groins when they heard about the wizard being Splinched in a most sensitive area, but at least they focused more during the lesson. "But yeah, Hermione. You can borrow them, even if you won't tell us what you're up to."

"Never you mind," she said briskly. "I'll come back for them after patrols."

Crookshanks wouldn't have been too upset about his mistress' lap being occupied by another, for he was being well tended by another.

The squashed faced half-kneazle had long grown tired of the hullabaloo in the Gryffindor common room, and the draughty corridors had been too brisk for him to linger about. Of course, the corridors down in the dungeon level of the school wasn't much warmer, but the feline knew of a cosier spot where he would be welcomed, even if by a person that did not physically appear to be pleased by his presence.

Within the past month or so Snape had become accustomed to hearing the slight scratching coming from the base of his door at odd hours of the evening. The first time Crookshanks showed up at his room had been moments before Snape was due for a meeting with Dumbledore. After Snape opened the door to find thin air in front of him, he looked down to see the bright orange cat at his feet, who then sauntered in like he owned the place, rubbed up against Snape's legs and then tottered off to curl up before the dying embers at the hearth. Snape stood in shock for a few seconds, finally closing his door and returning to his desk.

Multiple times after that, Snape and Crookshanks sat in the quiet dark of his study, the cat snoozing before the fire while the professor graded essays. The previous Sunday the two had been sitting for so long that Snape nearly forgot to eat dinner. Crookshanks, however, was hungry and let Snape know in no uncertain terms that he was ready to be fed.

The professor had been correcting third-years' essays on vampires, resisting the urge to write large red number ones on most of them. It was plain that most of his students could have a vampire staring them in the face and they still would not be able to recognise it. One student had clearly read Dracula one too many times, as Snape wondered if they had channeled Bram Stoker to help him with his essay. That student still somehow managed to receive higher marks than the rest of his classmates.

Snape had just been in the middle of writing a number four in the top right-hand corner of the parchment when Crookshanks jumped onto his desk, landing on top of the pile of essays. The half-kneazle stared up at the frowning wizard, whom merely stared back at him as if waiting for something.

When Snape obviously didn't get the hint fast enough, Crookshanks batted his paw at the wizard's hand which had been curved around a long plume-tipped quill, knocking it out of his fingers and making it clatter down onto the desk.

"What do you want, you little blighter?" Snape asked, picking his quill up and trying to push the cat away from his work. But Crookshanks anchored himself into place, swiping his small pink tongue down his left paw when Snape stopped shoving him.

"You can't stay there all night."

Lick, lick.

"Move, you infernal creature!"

Lick, pause, lick.

"Is this some sort of attempt to let me know that you require something?"

Stare.

"If you even think about wetting my desk..."

Just then Snape's empty stomach growled tellingly, and the sound made Crookshanks' tail shoot up.

"Is that it? You need to be fed?"

Crookshanks looked up and shuffled off the pile of essays. He sauntered to the edge of Snape's desk, cast a lingering glance at the glowering wizard over his shoulder, and leapt onto the floor.

Snape knew firsthand that Hermione's familiar was highly intelligent, which made the cat a suitable companion for her. But in the end, Crookshanks was still a cat, and he currently weaving through Snape's legs, causing the wizard to bellow and let out a string of swears when he nearly tripped.

"Listen, cat," he'd snapped, snatching up the wriggling bundle of orange fluff and holding it in front of his face. "If I fall and break my neck, I will return and haunt you for the rest of your eight lives or whatever the hell number you're on. And if you bite me, you will return to Gryffindor tower with every bit of that ridiculously bright orange fur absent from your body. Do you understand?"

Crookshanks let out a lazy meow as if to say 'yes' and calmly walked beside Snape once he was set back down. A tray of dinner for the professor had been sent by a house-elf, Potter's house-elf to be specific, along with a dish of what looked like livers for the half-kneazle. Dobby had squeaked in a high-pitched voice that 'Missy Hermy's cat' liked livers while setting the plate down on the floor. The house-elf had apparently deemed Crookshanks to not be moving fast enough, for he picked up the half-kneazle to carry him over to his dinner. Dobby was slightly bigger than the animal, and Crookshanks let out a throaty growl at being toted around like a sack.

Snape stood nearby, shaking his head and wondering when his front room had become the meeting place for the mad menagerie. He was tempted to open his door and wait for Potter to come down with his Snowy Owl on his arm. Snape vaguely remembered the two Weasley children had familiars of their own; a hyperactive Scops owl and a miniature puffskein in a lurid shade usually found in candyfloss. Surely they would also join in. Still, Snape mused that it could have been worse. It could have been one of the creatures Hagrid tried to keep around, thinking that no one knew about staggeringly illegal animals he tended to house.

When Crookshanks was once again sane and dining on his meal of chicken livers (Snape didn't bother to see if they were raw or cooked), the professor slowly put away his own meal without tasting the food.

Now Crookshanks was seated on top of Snape's booted feet, looking perfectly at ease. Snape had no idea why the animal chose to lie directly on top of his shoes, considering there was a more comfortable space on the woven tapestry before the hearth. Prior to returning to his chambers, Snape had made a surprise visit to the Slytherin common room, purely to see if Draco was there as he had directed.

The headstrong young blond had been mysteriously absent. His two slow-witted sidekicks were adamant about not knowing where Draco was when asked, and judging from the bit of conversation Snape had overheard at their first Apparation lesson in which the boy had been vague on his whereabouts, the professor was inclined to believe them.

The hour was late, which was when Snape usually went on patrols. Besides doing so to keep mischief at bay, as he nearly always caught at least one student out of bed, the stark silence of the abandoned castle also gave him time to think.

Before making one last trip to the Slytherin dormitory and finding that a sullen-looking Draco was now inside, Snape made his way to the first floor of the castle. Hermione's cat had decided that he wanted to come along for the walk, and Snape had to make sure to not step on the damned thing as he stalked up and down the darkened corridors. He never used his wand as a light source, solely relying on his sharply-honed night vision to get around. Early on, he learned that it was easier to sneak up on someone whilst in pitch black.

A couple times, Snape wondered if the half-kneazle had purposely tried to trip him when he felt Crookshanks darting across his steadily moving feet. The two finally settled into a rhythm; when Snape moved, Crookshanks moved, and when Snape paused, so did the cat.

Wanting a bit of fresh air before turning in for the night, Snape made his way across the castle and all the way up to the Astronomy tower. Even though it was quiet and peaceful, both elements did little to chase the pastiche of thoughts that were forever on his mind. Some people tended to pace back and forth when they were worried; Severus Snape stood completely still, looking disinterested when in fact it was just the opposite.

Standing quietly for another fifteen minutes or so, Snape knew that he was no longer alone when he heard the soft snick of the Astronomy door being eased open. There was only one person whom had the gall to intrude on his private time; Snape had been sure the headmaster knew about his erratic forays into odd parts of the castle, yet he never attempted to interrupt his solitude. Severus Snape might have been Dumbledore's spy, as well as the Dark Lord's right hand, and while it was still hard for him to be Severus Snape, the man, the lone wizard, he still needed to get away from it all, even if just for a few minutes.

Besides, he would always welcome the attention of the person currently standing behind him.

"I believe this belongs to you, Miss Granger."

Hermione poked her head around the corner to see the unmistakable tall, black-robed form of Professor Snape. His back was to her, and he spoke without turning around. The professor was standing at the crenellated ramparts, gazing off into the placid, blue black night sky. The moon was partially hidden behind a few clouds but threw enough light down onto the castle to make an unnaturally stock-still Snape appear ethereal, even if he was swathed head-to-toe in black. Crookshanks had been curled up by his feet, also usually calm considering how he usually skulked around, although when the half-kneazle saw his mistress, he rose and slowly walked over to her.

"Prefect duties have ended two hours ago. So let me guess, you felt an unyielding urge to sneak out of Gryffindor tower to see the stars bathed in nearly twelve o'clock nightlight?"

"Is the risk of me getting detention contingent upon my answer?" asked Hermione cheekily, stooping to briefly pet Crookshanks before straightening up and walking over to Snape. She paused at the stone parapet, standing a few inches away from him.

Snape gave a sideways glance towards Hermione, staring at her for a second before focusing ahead again. She was properly dressed for once, even though when a frigid gust of air rushed past them both, he was met with the urge to put his teaching robes on top of her shorter cloak.

"A lifetime of detention would still not deter you from doing what you want. Short of binding you to a chair, I do not think there is anything anyone can do."

"I think you may be right; I'm hopeless," Hermione laughed, peering down at Crookshanks who was now twisting his way around her left leg. "But I promise that I have a very good reason for prowling around the castle at this absurd hour."

Hermione then cocked her head to one side and began toying with the zip on the front of her purple pullover. Snape noticed that she looked as if she was hesitant on divulging whatever she previously deemed important enough to drive her from the warmth of the dormitories at nearly midnight.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Only if you look at me and not your zip, Miss Granger."

Hermione stopped playing with her pullover and took a deep breath, peering up nervously at Snape.

"By all means, take your time, Miss Granger," Snape said sardonically, cutting his black eyes at the witch.

"Ugh, all right! But stop glaring at me, if you don't mind. You make me nervous when you do that; I feel as if I've done something wrong."

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly and it was enough to make Hermione continue on with one of the reasons for her visit.

"So..." she began tentatively, "I'm trying to help Harry with...something, but I'm not sure how to go about doing so."

"Does this involve Little Miss Sneak-Thief and her cohorts breaking into Hogwarts' supply of Potions ingredients again?" Snape inquired dryly. "Because if it does..."

"No!" Hermione yelped, heat flooding her cheeks. "You're never going to let me forget that horrible day, are you?"

For someone whose life depended on controlling his emotions and masking every thought, Snape was not bothering to do so now. The withering glance he shot Hermione was so fierce that it made the embarrassed flush in her cheeks spread down to her neck, making her chest feel warm.

"Let you forget it?" Snape drawled, exaggerating each word. "Not a chance. Do you know how long it took to brew the antidote? Not to mention the hour of spell reversal I had to perform to rid you completely of the tail and whiskers. No wonder you were hacking up fur balls even after I was finished."

"Severus!"

Even though his expression was staid it was clear that the professor was somewhat amused.

"You know, I can almost feel your smirk. No need to keep a straight face, you might as well laugh," Hermione offered.

"I don't laugh," Snape replied. "Now quit your dithering and tell me why you sneaked out of Gryffindor tower—again."

"Right. As I was saying, I need to help Harry with something, but he actually needs Slughorn to help him first. And therein lies the problem, Slughorn isn't, um, exactly quite pleased with Harry at the moment."

"Is that right?" asked Snape smugly. "The way the old man's been going on about Potter, I was sure engraved invitations were going to be slipped beneath my breakfast plate any day now. No matter, should I ask what it is you three are up to?"

Hermione's hesitance was noticeable, and Snape dismissively waved a hand.

"Never mind, I don't want to know. Perhaps it's for the best. Anyway, I wish you all the luck with successfully getting Slughorn to freely offer assistance. The man displays largess that can only be compared with the Sheriff of Nottingham."

"Five points to Slytherin for the Robin Hood reference," Hermione chuckled. "But believe me, I'd noticed. Professor Slughorn isn't exactly the type to willingly offer help."

"He was Head of Slytherin House; are you really that shocked?"

Hermione stared at Snape for a moment with a furrowed brow. "I don't think you all are like that," she answered softly.

"You are partially correct on one account; it isn't just us Slytherins," Snape continued. "Most people are self-seeking. They aren't worried about the next person, unless it's to figure out a way to have one leg up on them. The world is cold and uncaring, and I fully understand your plight."

Again, Hermione had trouble finding the right words. "Surely everyone isn't that bad..."

"Would you like a sweet lie, or the bitter truth, Miss Granger? The sweet lie will go down easier, but I assure you that the bitter will only linger for a moment."

"I..."

"The best way to inveigle information out of someone like Slughorn is to pander and politic. The bastard generally enjoys it when someone falls all over him, even if he won't admit it. If it is information that you seek, then you had best make it seem as if you are willing to return some sort of favour."

"So basically Harry has to cater to his overblown ego? Wonderful," Hermione griped, exhaling in disgust.

"As I have already said, people are not inherently altruistic," Snape stated matter-of-factly. "Show me a man who says he wants to help someone without expecting anything in return, and I'll show you a liar."

"Now that most definitely cannot be true," said Hermione. "You've helped me loads of times and never made demands of me; what do you call that?"

Either Hermione had successfully rendered Severus speechless, which was a rare feat in itself and one she hadn't been intending on doing, or he had an answer to her question but was choosing to keep it to himself. In any event, he stood ramrod straight with both hands in his pockets, frowning as he continued staring out into the murky star-dotted sky that seemed to hang low enough to touch.

Hermione hated standing so close to the professor while at the same time feeling as if they were miles apart. She wanted to move in until their sides were touching, to bury her nose into the sleeve of Severus' teaching robes. Unfortunately, the Bloody Baron had the uncanny habit of frequenting the Astronomy Tower at odd hours of the night, something Hermione had learned during her previous Astronomy lessons. The ghost hadn't been obtrusive; sometimes he floated nearby, listening to Professor Sinistra lecturing about the constellations and solar system. But it would not do for the Bloody Baron to catch Hermione trying to cosy up next to her Defence teacher, especially considering the inappropriate hour and the small fact of them being alone at such a time.

The threat of being caught wasn't enough to make Hermione stay on her side of the tower, and slowly she shifted until she was standing close enough to feel the fluttering hem of Snape's robe brush against her leg. The wizard did not close the space between them, nor did he move away. Further testing her boundaries, Hermione moved one more step until her arm was less than an inch from Snape's, the feel of his body heat nearly tangible, even through his thick black layers.

"I have my own reasons for doing everything," Snape finally replied, rather cryptically.

"Oh, I know that," said Hermione, remembering the way the professor had handled the situation with her and Draco. "Right, well, at least I know what to tell Harry. Thank you."

Snape gave the slightest nod of his head, and Hermione took that as a you're welcome. Hermione was still amazed that after all the time she and Severus had spent together, his presence was still enough to make her stomach fill with butterflies. Of course, while their surroundings were intimate, Hermione wished that they were in his room. At least she would be able to touch him without the fear of being seen by another.

For a split second, Hermione forgot about the fact that Severus was her teacher. She forgot that basically the entire wizarding world was on tenterhooks as they waited for the consistently brewing trouble between opposing sides to finally come to a head. The only thing she could focus on was the fact that she wanted to stand in front of Severus, hide beneath the folds of his teaching robes, and stand up on tiptoe and kiss him until the surly look was absent from his face.

Snape's thoughts weren't terribly misplaced from Hermione's. While it appeared that he hadn't been looking at her, there was more than one instance where he peered at her out of his peripheral, getting a generous view of the witch.

He knew that he should have been worried when he realised just how much of a pleasant distraction Hermione's presence was, and had been up until the first time she barged in on him back at Grimmauld Place. Snape never knew what it was to lead a normal life, yet being with Hermione almost lent him a sense of normalcy. The greedy part of him wanted to hold onto that for as long as possible, even if it meant stealing her away from her family and friends, the latter being too young and immature to realise what an asset the young woman was.

At the same time, Snape knew that he should leave Hermione alone. It had little to do with that fact that the two were lovers, and more with the fact that he was wrong for her in every way, even if she disagreed.

But thoughts of throwing Hermione over his shoulder and carrying her off to some undisclosed place where they could hide from the rest of the world would never happen. For one, Snape did not know how many days he had left. Two, he was adamant that when Hermione survived the outcome of whatever was to happen, she would move on to a younger wizard with much less baggage than him.

"You are intelligent, Miss Granger," Snape said out of the blue, completely shocking Hermione. "Why are you still here?"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, trying to expound the meaning behind his statement. "Do you mean up here, with you? That shouldn't be hard to figure out."

Snape's countenance was expressionless as he turned to look at Hermione. "That was not what I meant, although I still question what it is that makes you continuously seek me out. No, what I meant was, why are you still here? At school?"

"Where else would I go?" Hermione pressed, now thoroughly confused. "Regular school? That isn't going to happen."

"No, you silly girl. Why haven't you returned to your parents and gone into hiding with them? Surely you realise that things are only going to go downhill from here on. Does self-preservation mean nothing to you?"

"Well of course I want to live," Hermione began, thoughtfully chewing on her bottom lip. "I've thought about that a few times, if I'm being honest. But then I remembered that if things do take a turn for the worse, I might not even have parents to return to. And that's assuming I'll being alive at the end of all this. Then what?"

"You will survive, I am sure of it," Snape told her in a bored voice. "You will grieve, perhaps for longer than you intend. You will never forget everything you went through, but you will move on. You'll get a well-paying job, get married, have a perfect house and fill it with a brood of bushy-haired swotty brats, and then you'll send them off to Hogwarts to torment each of their professors with incessant inquiries."

"That actually sounds like a dreadful bore, and a bit frightful. Half the time I feel like I'm playing den mother to Harry and Ron, and usually I want to cuff them round the head."

"I sympathise with you on that one. Though dull it may be, at least it's a safe, predictable existence that won't have your progeny going head on with Dark wizards. I assume that is what you want?"

"Of course if I were to go that route I'd want my loved ones to be safe. I'd rather us not have to go through all of this trouble now, but there's no use in wishing it away seeing as it won't stop anything."

"If you hadn't come to Hogwarts, what would you have seen yourself doing?"

Hermione wondered where all of Snape's questions were coming from, as he was usually the type to offer instruction or make demands. The only time he ever asked questions had been in a classroom, although perhaps he was somehow trying to teach her another kind of lesson that could only be taught outside of one.

"I...I don't know," Hermione admitted. "Maybe following in my parents' footsteps by becoming a dentist? I hadn't really thought about it. They both wanted me to become a dentist like them, until getting my Hogwarts letter. But the thought of rooting around in another person's mouth never really appealed to me, to tell the truth. I think Mum was a bit disappointed when she found out that I would be going away to school to learn magic, but she never actually said so..."

"At least you had parents that were supportive of your endeavours," interjected Snape, his voice slightly hardened.

He bitterly thought back to his own parents, both of whom seemed to hold no ambitions towards their son's future. At times Snape had felt as if he had been unwanted, an 'accident' as some women in the neighbourhood referred to other women's children who came long after they claimed that they were done. While some women seemed to always either be pregnant or just finished being pregnant, there were those who loathed being in said state purely because they had husbands that could scarcely afford the children they'd already had. It was hush-hush, but some had figured out a way to terminate a pregnancy from early on, doing so without telling their husbands.

What went on between his parents in the privacy of their bedroom had been none of his concern, but it never stopped Severus from wondering if his mum had ever gone through such drastic measures. Eileen and Tobias Snape had never given the care they needed to the only child they'd had; Severus saw no reason why they would even think about bringing another one into the world.

" I have another question for you," Snape went on, completely changing the subject to something less weighty. "Why does your damned cat eat a hole into the middle of his food and then whine for more when the dish is still clearly full?" He looked disdainfully down at the furry orange creature who was sat behind them.

Hermione surveyed her familiar for a moment, looking bemused. Crookshanks seemed to know that he was being talked about for his bottlebrush tail lazily flicked the air once before settling down around the curve of his body.

"He always does that," she laughed. "He'll eat a little bit from the middle, and then bothers me to put more food in his dish, but it has to go in the middle. Maybe the food touching the sides aren't good enough for him."

"Is he also in the habit of knocking things out of your hand when you don't move fast swiftly enough for him?"

"Crookshanks! You naughty thing, what did you do to the professor?" Hermione was stifling a giggle, especially when Crookshanks flicked his tail once more.

The professor had gone quiet again, and he was looking off into the distance. Hermione almost wanted to ask if the stars were boring him, going by the look on his face. But the desire to do more than just stand next to Severus outweighed the idea of talking, and Hermione cautiously shifted her hand until it was next to his.

During the midst of their conversation Snape had taken both hands out of his front pockets and let his arms hang to his sides. Now Hermione was holding her breath without realising it, slowly inching her hand until it was aligned with Snape's. Still not stopping her nor pulling away, he allowed Hermione to curve her forefinger over his ring and pinky.

Exhaling when she found that Snape was not going to make her step back, Hermione tightened her finger around his two, gently running her thumb over his knuckles.

Although Snape's sleeve hung low enough to cover most of his hand, leaving only his fingers exposed, it was his teaching robes and Hermione's cloak that concealed their small embrace. From behind it looked like the two were merely standing next to one another, but only someone directly in front of them would have seen that they were touching. There was no allowing her head to rest on shoulder, or pressing her hip against his; Hermione remained completely upright, refusing to allow that one finger to stray from the rough warmth of Snape's palm.

"I'll walk you back to the dormitories," Snape suddenly said, giving Hermione's hand a light squeeze before placing it by her side.

"Wait," Hermione protested, reaching out for Snape's hand, not wanting to let go. "Must we leave so soon?"

"Did you plan on spending your entire night on the Astronomy tower?"

"No, but—"

"Then come along, it is getting too cold to remain out here."

"Will you at least kiss me goodnight? I have Harry's Invisibility Cloak if you're worried about being seen."

Snape sneered at Hermione's suggestion, his dark eyes peering down at the bundle of shimmery material she had just pulled from her pocket.

"No, thank you. Wearing Potter's cloak once was already one times too many, and I have no wish to relive the experience."

Hermione looked crestfallen but she said nothing. Snape could not believe how disappointed the witch was at her request being denied, and felt himself on the verge of reneging. Just as she turned to walk towards the door, he caught Hermione by the wrist and gently tugged her towards him, lowering his head and brushing his lips against hers. Hermione appeared confused at the sudden change, but then became extremely responsive once she felt Snape's kiss. She had just pursed her lips with intent to keep going and frowned when he pulled back after a second.

"That's enough for now," he softly told her, a strained look on his face. "We cannot forget where we are standing."

"Oh, all right," Hermione replied in a hushed voice. Snape then brushed a hand over her curls, the caress so fleeting that it was almost as if it never happened.

"On your way, then. And don't forget your cat."

Flashing a brief smile up at the professor, Hermione clucked her tongue until Crookshanks skulked out from a dark corner and walked to the door. He had walked away from chattering couple, taking a brief nap in a shadowed recess of the tower. If he could talk, he would say that their display of affection was rather shoddy, judging by that pitiful kiss given to his mistress. He would tell the wizard that he was holding back, and ask him why, as it was clear that he was more at ease when the wild-haired witch was around. But Crookshanks would do what he always did; sleep, wait to be fed, and observe the humans and their strange ways.

Oh yeah, forgot to mention, I too, love the smut, but I'm also a sucker for those quiet, intimate moments, like many of you have told me ;) Sometimes shagging is nice, but then so is cuddling and kissing, or even just holding hands. Aww I sound like a sop. (I don't care)
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Unintentional Inveiglement