Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1: The job advert

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

_This is an HG/SS fic – like all my fics. It is loosely in response to the 'A simple game of chess' challenge on WIKTT, although I had started writing it before I noticed the challenge and you'll have to wait until Chapter 5 for the chess game._

_Rated R for adult themes including sex and suicide. _

_Obviously the basic premise of this story (Hermione returns to Hogwarts to teach after an unhappy romance) has been done lots of times already, but I hope you'll find it original enough not to accuse me of plagiarism. This is my take on the idea, anyway._

_I don't usually start posting until I've finished a story. I have almost finished, but I'll start posting now to get in before the challenge deadline. It will be quite short – about eight chapters, I think. I am actually working on a longer story for the first time, but it is just refusing to do what I want it to, and I had the idea for this shorter one, so I thought I would write it while it was in my head._

**Chapter 1 : The job advert**

She slammed the door behind her as she entered her flat. The old ginger cat looked up briefly and then went back to sleep. Seeing Crookshanks made her calm down. She sat down on the sofa and stroked him.

'How are you, old boy?' she whispered. She'd had him fifteen years and he hadn't been young when she got him. He had to be an old cat now. Perhaps magical cats lived longer than normal cats? She wasn't so sure. He seemed to be getting ready to fall into a final snooze. 

Sighing she got up. Would nothing go right for her at the moment? If her cat died on her, that would be the final straw. Today's disciplinary meeting at the ministry had been so bloody infuriating. So unfair. She _wasn't_ self-willed and insubordinate! All she wanted to do was get on with her job. But there was such an infuriating amount of red tape. Sometimes she cut corners – everyone did. You couldn't function otherwise!

Why, oh why, oh why had this disciplinary charged been dragged up now? When she was at a low ebb and least able to defend herself. She felt like banging her head against the wall. Instead she poured herself a neat whisky. Oblivion of a sort.

But oblivion failed to come. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She hadn't done _anything_ that other ministry employees didn't do every day. And anyway, how had her bosses known that she had used a flying carpet to move the documents to the storage depot in Titchfield? It would have taken forever to move them by broomstick and she had been so careful not to be seen. The officials hadn't cited any witnesses, muggle or magical.

Hermione was intrigued now – how _had_ they known? She ran over the hearing in detail. The charge had been given. She had not tried to deny it, since it was true. Perhaps they would have called witnesses if she had. Nevertheless – they were so thorough in everything, she couldn't imagine them changing their line of attack on the spur of the moment. If they had had witnesses, they would have called them all the same.

Suddenly it occurred to her that they must have had inside information from someone who knew. Someone had snitched on her. Impossible! No, wait. What was it Sherlock Holmes used to say about eliminating the impossible and improbably that was left must be true? Someone snitching on her wasn't impossible, just improbable. And then when she thought about it a name popped into her head and it didn't even seem improbable. Mike. Mike had known that she was going to move the documents. 

Hermione sighed. Was it possible that Mike could have snitched on her? They talk about a woman spurned, but what about a man spurned? Or, in this case, a man who couldn't keep his dick in his trousers. Hermione's husband of three year's standing – soon to be her ex-husband. (Not soon enough, she mused). Why on earth was he waging this petty campaign against her? It was his own bloody fault that she had thrown him out. Now if _she_ had been getting her revenge on _him,_ that would have made some sense. But this?

Absently Hermione stroked Crookshanks' head, thinking 'Good old Crookshanks! We've seen some ups and downs, haven't we. OWLs and NEWTs. Voldemort. Marriage and divorce.'

Once more she rolled the word divorce around her head. She had never imagined that she would end up divorced, but then she had never imagined that Michael Corner, who had been so extravagantly in love with her, would end up cheating on her. And although the bitterness of that betrayal still lingered, she felt good. Free. Revived. Perhaps all this bother with the ministry was a wake up call. She wasn't indentured to the ministry. She could up and leave whenever she wanted. On a whim, she reached over for the Daily Prophet and started flicking through the situations vacant pages.

As is so often the case, the brain hones in and notices things that fit with what we have been thinking about. If someone you know is diagnosed as having a rare disease, you suddenly seem to be reading about that very disease everywhere. A film star has it. A politician announces more screening. A local paper runs a fund raising campaign for a child who needs to go abroad for treatment. In fact, there are no more articles about it than there were last week, or the week before, but your brain notices them.

And so it was with Hermione. It seemed like fate that that particular position should be advertised on that particular day – and it leapt out at her from the page: 'On the retirement of the previous incumbent, Hogwarts wish to appoint a new arithmancy teacher from September …'

So, Professor Vector was finally retiring. Well, there had been a lot of changes at Hogwarts recently and people do grow old, even wizards and witches.

Hermione stared and stared at the page. She reread it carefully. Oh Merlin, the application had to be in by tomorrow. The ad must have been running for weeks, but normally she would never give the situations vacant pages a second glance. No time to think, if she wanted to apply. Write a CV now, tonight and mail it to … Headmaster Snape. Hermione was forcibly reminded of yet another recent change at Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2: The job application

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

**Chapter 2: The job application**

Snape sighed as he sat down at his desk. He needed to get to grips with the task of appointing a replacement arithmancy teacher. He had looked at the applications as they came in and knew that it wasn't a strong field. The only ones he hadn't read were the ones that had come in just ahead of the deadline that morning.

He cleared the desk and made space for two piles: hopeless and possibles. And then he began to read. 

'I don't really know anything about arithmancy but I'm willing to learn.' Hopeless! 

'I've still got a year to go on my arithmancy degree, but my teachers tell me I'm not likely to get a very good result, so I thought perhaps I could teach instead.' Hopeless! 

'I've been retired ten years but I'm getting a bit bored and I wouldn't mind doing some teaching so long as it wasn't too much.' Hopeless!

The pile of hopeless cases grew and Snape had found a single possible yet. Soon the only parchments left were the ones that had come that morning. But before he reached out to pick the first of those, he noticed a missive on green Ministry parchment. With a deep sigh he picked it up.

_Guidelines for Recruitment from the Ministry of Magic HR Department_, Snape read. What was this now? What was HR Department? Her Royal …? But there seemed to be an H missing for that. 

Snape flicked through the guide. He had already broken all the ones pertaining to the advertising of posts. He turned to the section on interviewing. _The interviewing should be done by a panel of three staff. Bugger that, thought Snape. He was not going to get any of the other jokers on the staff involved in this. They would probably end up with the one who didn't know anything about arithmancy but was willing to learn. _

_Arrange the room so that the interviewee doesn't have to keep turning his/her head as if s/he was at Wimbledon to see the interviewers. _ What the hell was Wimbledon? How he hated this fashion for slipping in muggle references at every opportunity! However, it was irrelevant as he didn't intend to have a panel. 

_Interviewers must not ask the applicant whether they are muggle born or about their marital status, sexuality or childcare arrangements. Under no circumstance can such matters be taken into account when making an appointment unless they can be seen to be directly relevant to the post._ So did the Ministry expect him to appoint a single gay muggle-born wizard with a troop of pre-school children in tow? 

Snape threw the Ministry guidelines into the fire and turned to the remaining two applications. The first was from a Professor Mobius of Ravenna. Snape knew of him vaguely and had a feeling that the man was something of an authority on arithmancy. Greatly cheered he unrolled the parchment to find that the entire application was written in Latin. Sighing Snape dredged up the remnants of his classical education and began to decipher the CV with the help of dictionary and a grammar. Was this an accusative or a dative? 

He could have used a translation spell, of course, but in his experience they were not very good and misunderstandings could arise. He remembered hearing a story of someone who tried to translate the Bible to Russian. The phrase 'the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak' came out as 'the vodka is strong but the pork is spoilt'.  No, safest to persevere with the translation. Is that a gerund?

An hour later, Snape was swearing at the perversity of Professor Mobius of Ravenna. However, he had finished, and placed the parchment in the hitherto virgin spot reserved for possibles. Then he turned to the last parchment.

Ms Granger. Ms Hermione Granger. Snape stared at the application. What on earth was she doing applying for this job. She was well ensconced in a Ministry job, wasn't she? He flicked to her employment section and checked what grade she was. He calculated that her current salary must be almost twice the lowest point on the teacher's salary scale. Even at the top of the scale, a teacher would several thousand galleons a year shy of her current salary.

Was it a prank? No, he recognised her handwriting. She had written it and he didn't think she was the sort to play a practical joke. She was clearly a strong candidate – she had a PhD in arithmancy and had published in the field. But could he cope with having her on the staff? The most annoying know-it-all he had ever met. And muggle-born to boot. What if she still had Potter in tow? But as far he could remember she had married someone – not Potter – a Ravenclaw, he thought. If she was married, why did she still go under her maiden name? Women did that nowadays – Snape wasn't such a complete fuddy-duddy that he didn't know that. But it still grated.

Snape lent back and glanced up at Dumbledore's portrait.

'What would you advice me to do?' he asked. But Dumbledore only smiled and winked which was all he had ever done since he died last year.

~@~@~@~

Hermione had panicked all the way to work that morning. What on earth had possessed her to send that application last night? Hogwarts of all places. Snape of all people. She finally calmed herself. It was only an application. She might not even get shortlisted. Even if she was called for interview, she needn't go. And even if she went, she probably wouldn't be offered the job. Hermione suspected that she figured in Snape's list of all time top ten least favourite students. And even if she was offered the job, she needn't accept.

She had achieved some sort peace of mind when she arrived at her desk. No sooner had she sunk into her chair, than a winged memo crash-landed in front of her. It was a voice-recorded memo, so she was treated to Percy Weasley's pompous voice announcing that she had been given an official reprimand which would be kept on her file and taken into consideration if there were any more transgressions of Ministry rules. Moreover, she would be docked two weeks' pay. 

'Can they do that?' she thought. If they started docking her pay, she would soon be no better off here than at Hogwarts!

Once she had cleared the memo off her desk and switched the computer on, she got another annoying missive. 'You have mail' blinked her screen and the mail turned out to come from one m.corner@ magicmin.gov.uk.  

'Did you like my little surprise? I've got plenty more in store,' announced her soon-to-be-ex husband.

Hermione sighed. So it was Mike who had shopped her. She closed her eyes and relived the final shouting session. Lipstick on the collar. Receipt for romantic meals in his jacket pockets. He had stopped even trying to hide his infidelity.

'What do you expect me to do when you are frigid?' he had shouted.

Hermione dragged up something she had read years ago in a Lavender's Witch Weekly.

'There is no such thing as a frigid woman. Only a woman who is with the wrong man.'

But Mike wouldn't admit it was his fault in any way, of course. And now she could look forward to a petty game of attrition. As if on cue, her mobile bleeped to indicate a text message, which turned out to say 'Nah-nah na nah-nah!' How childish, but infuriating and slightly frightening in its insanity.

Perhaps Hogwarts wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all. She might not get as much pay, but she would get free board and lodgings and her London flat would fetch a tidy sum if she sold it now. And Mike wouldn't go near Hogwarts while Snape was Headmaster, that much was certain.

_A/N: Challenge requirement number one: a dictionary._


	3. Chapter 3: The interview

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

**Chapter 3: The interview**

Hermione nearly fainted when she received the owl inviting her to an interview with Headmaster Snape next Tuesday afternoon. Up to that point she hadn't really believed in the job application, but now it seemed to have come horribly close. Her first thought was to write to say that she had changed her mind, but after yet another particularly trying day at the Ministry, she decided to consider the Hogwarts job seriously. She sat down and thought through the syllabus she had been taught and what changes she would like to make. By the end of the evening, she had a parchment full of notes and ideas. It was strange, she thought, how she had suddenly started to feel slightly demob happy at work. Perhaps she really would leave!

~@~@~@~

Professor Mobius arrived early on Tuesday morning. It soon became clear that his knowledge of the English language was sketchy in the extreme. Snape found it easier to revert to Latin even though it taxed his brain rather more than he cared to think about. He did, however, have to be quite firm with the good Professor in insisting that the lessons at Hogwarts could not be conducted in Latin. Snape had briefly considered the consternation he would cause if he announced that all arithmancy would now be taught in Latin. But he rejected it on the basis that even he realised that it would have an adverse effect on OWL and NEWT results. And he didn't think the parents would react kindly to a request to insert a Babel fish in every child's ear.

Professor Mobius seemed quite put out. At length he conceded that he might have to learn some English to teach at Hogwarts, but he didn't seem very keen and implied that the school was clearly not up to the high academic standards he had expected. This annoyed Snape greatly and, in the end, he was pleased to get rid of the man without having to invite him for lunch.

~@~@~@~

Hermione had been invited to come at 2pm. A few minutes before the hour, Snape gazed out of the window and happened to see her wandering up the road from Hogsmeade in the warm June sunshine. She looked relaxed and carefree … that wasn't how he liked his victims … ehr … applicants. He would have to put a stop to that!

So, when she entered the room, he put on his best scowl, pulled out his fob watch and stared intently at it.

'You're late!' he exclaimed.

Hermione consulted her watch, looking worried for a moment. Then she caught on to his game.

'No I'm not,' she stated calmly. 'Your watch must be fast.'

Snape swept over to the desk and sat down, indicating a small uncomfortable chair for Hermione facing him across the desk. Recreate the teacher–student atmosphere if possible, he thought. But the strategy didn't work as well as he'd hoped, as Hermione had really nothing to lose so wasn't frightened of him any more.

'Miss Granger, ' he began.

'That would be Ms Granger,' said Hermione.

'What?' said Snape, genuinely confused for a moment. Then he understood. '_Ms_ Granger, then, you are, of course, very highly qualified in arithmancy. I have read your dissertation…' Here he managed to sneer so that what should have been a compliment sounded like an insult. Hermione inclined her head.

'However, I don't see anything in this CV to indicate that you have done any teaching at any point, Ms Granger.'

Hermione had anticipated that. 

'That is true in the formal sense, but I have spent a lot of time helping other students understand their subjects both at Hogwarts and at university.'

'I seem to remember that,' snarled Snape, clearly thinking of Neville Longbottom. 'Nevertheless, without formal teaching experience, I couldn't offer you any more than the bottom point on the salary scale.'

Hermione gasped slightly – she had rather assumed that with her arithmancy background she would start some way up the scale.

'I didn't intend to come here for the money,' she retorted.

'Clearly,' snorted Snape. Changing tack he said, 'You call yourself Ms Granger, yet I thought I heard you had got married a while back.

Hermione coloured slightly and said stiffly, 'As I'm getting a divorce, I have reverted to my maiden name.'

Snape observed that she looked uncomfortable. So this divorce was not all sweetness and light. Well, that was useful piece of information. Perhaps he should ask her about childcare responsibilities as well, while he was at it, but he was pretty sure she didn't have children. Instead, he rose slightly and leant menacingly across the desk. 

'I am not in the habit of wasting my time and I am sure that you are not either. So let me put this bluntly. If your application is not serious, then please say so and leave now.'

But Hermione wasn't used to letting herself be intimidated and she rose slightly, too.

'I'm not in the habit of wasting people's time either,' she said angrily. 'The application is genuine or I wouldn't have made it.'

'When could you start?' said Snape abruptly, still staring aggressively at her.

This put Hermione slightly on the back foot. She had three months notice at the Ministry and she was uncomfortably aware that the start of the autumn term was only just over two months away. But she wasn't going to back down to Snape or anyone else.

'I have a great deal of leave owing to me and I am sure I could use it to make me available in time for the new term,' she said.

'Good,' said Snape sitting down. 'If you're serious, here is the contract. Sign!'

Hermione desperately wanted to ask for more time to consider, but given what she had just said about being serious, she could hardly do so without losing face. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up the quill and signed.

'A copy of the contract will be sent you by owl. I'll expect you on 1st September. Good day to you!' said Snape.

Hermione was left staring at him.

'Don't you want to talk about my lesson plans? Or show me round the school? Or something?'

'I think you know your way around this school. I'm a busy man. If you want to talk to someone about lesson plans, go and talk to Vector. She is still around!'

He shooed her out of his office, leaving her standing totally flabbergasted on the revolving staircase. She couldn't believe how rude he had been. And she was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that he had manoeuvred her into precisely the position he wanted her, in a very skilful way.

~@~@~@~

A little later, Hermione was sitting in Professor Vector's office having tea. The little witch was delighted. 

'You've no idea how worried I've been. He wouldn't let me be involved in the recruitment process at all! I was convinced he would appoint some awful person.'

'What is Snape like as headmaster?' asked Hermione, uncomfortably aware that she should probably have asked this before she applied for the post, or at least before she accepted.

'Oh, it has not been so bad,' said Vector with a little shrug. 'The good thing is that you hardly ever see him, except in the Great Hall. He never comes to the Staff Room. All he is really interested in is exam results and if you deliver that, he pretty much leaves you alone. It isn't difficult in arithmancy, since it is not compulsory and you can just refuse to take any pupil you don't think is going to make the grade.'

Hermione considered her tea cup closely.

'What is he like with muggle-borns?'

Professor Vector gave her a sideways glance and then said, 'He is on this great drive for academic excellence and not all the children are able to live up to his standards. Most of the muggle-borns who come here are talented high achievers, like yourself, and they don't tend to have a problem. He isn't frightened of anyone, you know, and he has been known to expel the children of prominent pure-blood wizards if they didn't perform well enough.'

Hermione was only partially reassured and it was with deep foreboding she returned home.

_A/N: Did you spot the reference to the Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy?_


	4. Chapter 4: Departure and arrival

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

**Chapter 4: Departures and arrivals**

The next couple of months were the busiest Hermione had ever known. Having been on the point of dismissing her, the Ministry didn't seem to want to let go of her. They created all sorts of difficulties about her using her leave during her period of notice. In the end they grudgingly agreed that she could finish on 31st August, so that she could catch the Hogwarts' Express with all her luggage on 1st September. And during that period she had to finish off all her projects at the Ministry, write her lesson plans for Hogwarts, and sell her flat and dispose of any of her belongings that she wasn't bringing with her. As a result, she spent her evenings working late at the ministry and her weekends planning arithmancy lessons and brewing fresh coffee to make her flat smell nice for prospective buyers. She went up to see Professor Vector several times, which was nice, but she didn't meet many of the other teachers, as most seemed to have left for the summer.

By the time Hermione finally stowed her trunk in the overhead rack and sank into her seat on the train, she felt she needed a holiday, not a new job, She had chosen and empty compartment, but the train was full and after a little while four students, two girls and two boys, entered. They looked dubiously at her sitting in the corner reading her book and then sat down at the far end of the compartment. She was reminded of her third year journey to Hogwarts when they had sat in a compartment with Lupin who had pretended to be asleep almost the whole way. She guessed these children were third or fourth years, too.

Eventually curiosity got the better of the children and after much nudging and giggling, a girl with long fair plaits, who seemed to be the bravest, was sent over to her.

'Are you a new teacher, Miss?' she asked. Hermione nodded.

'What's your name?' asked the girl.

'Ms … ehr …Professor Granger,' said Hermione. I'm going to teach arithmancy.

'Oh, ' said the girl goggle-eyed. 'I'm started arithmancy this year!. My name is Sarah Myson. I'm in Hufflepuff – we all are. What house were you in, Miss? If you were at Hogwarts, that is.'

'Yes, I most certainly was at Hogwarts, about ten years ago. I was in Gryffindor.'

'I know who you are,' said a small dark boy. 'You're Harry Potter's friend! I saw him play Puddlemere United over the summer. He is brilliant!'

Hermione smiled. She thought that Harry would be delighted that this generation of children knew him for his exploits on the quidditch field, not for his role in Voldemort's downfall.

'I'm not doing arithmancy,' said the other boy, who Hermione thought looked muggle-born by his clothes. 'I didn't really know what it was when we were choosing.'

'I'm not doing it, either,' said the first boy sadly. 'I wanted to, but my father said I wasn't clever enough.'

Hermione silently cursed this father who had so clearly underminded his son's confidence.

'What's your name?' she asked.

'Melkior Morgan,' said the boy.

The muggle-looking boy and the second girl, who had so far been quite, gave their names as Paul Smith and Melissa Tenby. Then the tea trolley came past and they seemed to lose interest in Hermione.

~@~@~@~

Because she had travelled up on the Hogwarts Express with her luggage, Hermione only arrived in time for the sorting. She soon gathered that there had been a staff meeting earlier in the day, which she had missed, but no one seemed to have time to fill her in on what had transpired. In fact, no one seemed very interested in making her feel welcome at all. Most of the teachers she had known from her school days had left and the new people were a very unfriendly lot.

Feeling rather lonely and miserable, she sat in her seat at the end of the staff table and watched the first years being sorted into their houses. She wasn't sure whether she had been biased, but she did think that when she started, Gryffindor was _the_ house to be in. Now it seemed to Ravenclaw for some reason – not Slytherin as you might have expected with Snape as head master.

Snape, by the way – he sat in the centre of the staff table looking as bad-tempered as ever. He only gave a short speech with no jokes, which focussed on the importance of study and following the rules. He did introduce Hermione, but not with any real enthusiasm.

As soon as the meal was over, Snape swept away from the table. As he passed Hermione, he leant forward and hissed, 'It was most inconvenient that you were not at the staff meeting. There is a matter I want to discuss with you. Be in my office in ten minutes.' And then he strode off.

Hermione was left sitting there with her mouth slightly open. He couldn't be civil about it, could he? She felt like a first year who had just been given a detention. Well, maybe not a first year, because then she would be terrified. She wasn't terrified, just annoyed.

However, there was no point antagonising her new boss any more than necessary, so she presented herself at his office promptly ten minutes later. As she entered, he looked at his watch as if to imply that she was late. Since she wasn't, she ignored himand sat down. That took Snape by surprise – he appeared to think she should have waited to be asked to sit. But if there was one thing Hermione had learnt at the ministry, it was not to allow herself to be bullied by unpleasant bosses.

Snape cleared his throat. 

'As you would have known had you been at the staff meeting, Professor Lickust has had to retire through ill health following an unexpected heart attack.'

Hermione looked merely bemused – she had no idea who Professor Lickust was.

'He taught astronomy. That is not the problem – we shall cover the astronomy lessons on a rota between us until he is replaced.' Hermione groaned inwardly – astronomy lectures at midnight on top of the rest of her duties as a teacher.

'But he was also head of Gryffindor for which I have no easy replacement,' continued Snape.

Here he paused for this to sink in. It took a moment for Hermione to catch on. 

'Are you offering me the post?' she asked.

Snape nodded reluctantly. 'I have no choice. It is a post I can't leave vacant and you are the only suitable candidate.'

Don't sound so enthusiastic, thought Hermione.

'The post would add 3,000 galleons to your annual salary,' he added.

With the cut in pay she had just taken, 3,000 galleons was not to be sniffed at.

'What would I have to do?' she asked.

'I would have thought that as a former head girl, you would know roughly what the job involves,' said Snape sarcastically. 'The most important thing is that you have to live on the premises and so it is not really compatible with being married, ' he added smugly. He had at least found a reason to ask about marital status that was directly related to the post. Up yours, Ministry of Magic HR Department!

'I thought all the teachers lived on the premises,' said Hermione surprised.

Snape sighed slightly. 'That may well have been the case when you were a student. Nowadays most of them are married and apparate to Hogsmeade each morning.'

'Well, I'm not married – any more,' said Hermione. 'And I need the money – I'll take it.'

'In that case you need to get back to your common room and welcome the students,' said Snape sourly.

Hermione stood to leave, but as she turned her attention was caught by a slight yelp in the corner. She looked over to see two chess figures have a go at each other on a wizarding chess board. She couldn't stop herself from taking a step in their direction to see what was going on, but Snape swept past her.

'Stop disrupting the game,' he shouted at the chessmen.

Despite herself, Hermione was intrigued. 

'Who are you playing against?' she asked.

'I'm replaying famous matches,' said Snape with a superior air that was meant to convey the idea that he was above such things as opponents in chess games.

Hermione was now fascinated by the set-up on the board. With her usual impulsiveness she said, 'It is ages since I played chess. I would give you a game if you like!'

She didn't for a moment expect Snape to take her up on the offer. But the fact was that he was getting rather bored replaying famous matches. He had even considered going down to the staff room to see if he could find an opponent, but he couldn't bring himself to show such weakness. In a moment of madness, he answered Hermione.

'Tomorrow night at nine o'clock in my office, then.'

It wasn't until she was outside the door that Hermione actually understood what she had got herself into. She was going to have to play Snape at chess the next day!


	5. Chapter 5: Chess moves

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

**Chapter 5: Chess moves**

Hermione's first full day at Hogwarts was fraught. Not only did she have to teach her first ever lessons, but she spent all day worrying about the chess match. Probably Snape would beat her in ten minutes flat and then sneer at her for pretending to be able to play.

So it was with some trepidation that she approached the Headmaster's study that evening. However, Snape was perfectly civil when he opened the door. Hermione looked round but couldn't see the chess board anywhere.

Snape saw her looking and in reply to her unasked question said, 'We'll be more comfortable in here.' He lead the way through a door into a circular drawing room beyond the study. It was almost completely empty of furniture. Hermione got the impression that Snape had cleared out Dumbledore's stuff and then not had the energy or enthusiasm to replace it with anything. The only concession to comfort was a fire burning in the grate against the early September Scottish chill. The chess board stood on just about the only piece of furniture there was – an elegant games table with slender legs and Hermione sat down on one of two chairs beside it.

'Drink?' asked Snape. 

'Yes, please,' said Hermione, feeling very much in need of a drink.

'I have some rather fine muggle single-malt whisky,' said Snape.

Hermione, who was rather partial to a snifter of 'fine muggle single-malt whisky', said that would be nice. 'Neat, please,' she added, earning a look of approval from Snape. She stifled a giggle at the thought of his face if she had asked from brandy and babycham like Ginny used to drink when she was younger.

Snape obviously felt the need to say some suitable words as her employer. With his back turned to her, he asked, 'Settling in all right?'

Hermione didn't think that this was the time or place to tell him that she found the new staff unfriendly and snooty and the students extraordinarily stressed about homework and exam results. So she just said, 'Fine.'

Duty done, Snape abandoned chit chat, handed Hermione the drink and settled down to the chess game. 

Hermione had been telling the truth when she said she liked chess, but that didn't mean that she was all that good at it. With her analytic mind and excellent memory, she could play a passable defensive game, but she lacked the flair and determination to attack effectively. Snape tried several straightforward attacks which she parried easily, but his greater experience won through in the end and by midnight he had defeated her. 

'I think I'm a little out of practice,' said Hermione by way of apology.

'Then we'd better make sure you get some practice,' said Snape. 'Would Friday night suit you?'

Hermione was so surprised that she could think of no excuse to decline. And she had in fact been rather worried about what to do on Friday night. Very few staff remained at school at weekends and much as she liked them, she didn't really want to spend the evening in the staff room with Flitwick and Binns.

'Friday would be nice,' she replied.

~@~@~@~

After Hermione had gone, Snape sat down at the chess board with the intention of running through the game in his mind. Instead he found himself thinking of Hermione. Her face, her hair, her hand and slender arm, the swell of her breast under the teaching robes … Before he knew where he was, he found himself with an erection.

He stood up rather suddenly and said savagely out loud, 'Well, there is no chance of her ever letting you do _that _ to her, so you might as well forget it, old boy.' And then he swept out the room in search of some students out of bed that he could crucify.

~@~@~@~

Hermione quickly settled into a routine. She found that she quite enjoyed teaching, although all the marking was a drag. After a week or so she began to notice the word 'resits' creeping into more and more conversations that she overheard among the student. She couldn't remember any resits from her schooldays and eventually she asked Flitwick about it.

'The students who failed their exams last summer will be sitting resits this autumn,' he said cautiously.

Hermione remembered that students were in theory required to pass the exams each year to continue at the school. In practice, she couldn't remember anyone ever being expelled for failing exams. She was surprised that Snape would have relaxed the rules to allow resits, and she said so.

Flitwick stroked his chin and said, 'Well, the exams were a lot harder this year. Headmaster Snape is very keen to raise academic standards, you know.'

Now she began to understand.

'So – a lot of students failed in June, did they?'

Flitwick nodded.

'And what happens if they fail the resits?'

'They will be expelled.'

Hermione was appalled. This seemed to be an intolerable pressure to place on children and teenagers. She probed Flitwick to see if he would express outrage, but he was very guarded. It seemed that he was unwilling to criticise Snape publicly. And – being head of Ravenclaw – he was lucky to be in charge of the brightest students, so it wasn't really his problem.

And – at the end of the day – Hermione persuaded herself that it wasn't really her problem, either. Some careful inquiries around her classes ascertained that no one was facing resits in aithmancy. Apparently, Vector had long practised a policy of admitting only the cleverest and most talented students to her subject and they had all survived the June exams, even with the raised standard.

There were plenty of other things that _were_ Hermione's problems. Not to with arithmancy so much, but more to do with the pastoral care she was called upon to give to the Gryffindors. 

And her own situation was a problem – she felt very isolated. As explained by Snape, most of the staff now lived away from the castle. Some stayed there during the week, but at the weekends it was really only the Headmaster, the four Heads of Houses and the matron around. Apart from Flitwick, who was now very elderly, Hermione found it difficult to get on with the Heads of the Houses. The Head of Hufflepuff was little witch from Norfolk called Elmira Mopps. Hermione tried to engage her in conversation on several occasions, but found her totally uninspiring. Worse, the Head of Slytherin was a pure blood wizard called Mottram Malfoy, a distant cousin of Draco's. He made no secret of the fact that he resented a muggle born head of Gryffindor. Hermione would rather have cut off her right arm than converse with him. And the matron kept herself to herself and was rarely seen by the rest of the staff. So weekends were pretty dire affairs. 

Hermione's nature took over and she devoted herself to work, but there was only so much work she could do. She was vaguely aware that the resits were happening, but snowed under with her own problems, she ignored them. Ignored everything apart from her work, in fact. 

If it hadn't been for the chess matches with Snape, she would have been very lonely and unhappy.

Hermione had got more and more adept at blocking his moves, forcing a draw, time and time again. Snape, who always played to win, was forced into ever more daring strategies to outwit her. And finally he overreached himself so that, one fine day, in the middle of October, Hermione spotted a weakness in his attack and beat him. This was not repeated, but nevertheless left her feeling very proud. The chess matches were becoming a highlight in her existence. Somehow she was growing very comfortable in Snape's presence and yet they never spoke of anything but chess.

One of the things about Hogwarts that was particularly getting Hermione down was the food. When she was student, she had liked the food in the Great Hall. Seen with adult eyes, it was so obviously chosen for its blandness and bulk to satisfy both choosy children and teenage boys in need of large portions. Hermione looked down at her plate of stew and dumplings, roast potatoes and over-cooked carrots,  and wanted to scream.

She didn't have to eat in the Great Hall, of course, and attached to her rooms was a small kitchen, fully equipped with pots and pans, crockery and cutlery. She could cook her own food whenever she wanted, but it seemed sad somehow to cook a meal for one, so all she had used it for was to make the odd cup of tea or coffee. Now an idea began to grow in her head, born out of boredom and loneliness. 

She decided to strike while the iron was hot, before she had time to change her mind. On leaving Snape's room after their very next chess game (a draw), she turned in the door and said, 'I have been thinking of cooking a meal on Friday. Would you join me for dinner?'

Snape looked up, startled.

'Dinner? But I need to be seen eating my meals in the Great Hall.'

'So – push your food around your plate and join me for a proper dinner later. I assure you the food will be very much more palatable.'

~@~@~@~

Snape still didn't quite know why he had accepted the invitation. Of course, he was perfectly within his rights to eat a quiet meal with one of his staff in their rooms. But it wasn't something anyone expected of him, that's all. Not to put too fine a point on it: no one had ever invited him before. He spent the night tossing and turning trying to figure it out. Finally he read the riot act to himself: he musn't read too much into this – Hermione was lonely and wanted to cook a meal and he was the only one of even approximately her age who was around at weekends. That was all there was to it. He probably shouldn't have accepted, but what harm could it do – really? And her food probably _was _better than that in the Great Hall…

~@~@~@~

Hermione had a period without lessons after lunch on a Friday, so she dashed off to Hogsmeade to get the ingredients for her meal. She was planning roast tomato soup with basil garnish for starters. For the main course, she wanted to do fish because decent fish dishes was one of the things she missed most. Fish at Hogwarts was either fish fingers or the unidentifiable lumps of cod or haddock deep fried in batter with chips served ever Friday. Well, she could cook a lovely Dover soul and prawn dish. She found an old fashioned fishmonger in Hogsmeade and spent a happy while choosing her fish. Then she popped into an off licence to get some fine Chablis. And finally some freshly ground coffee – she didn't think that she could fool Snape by making instant coffee in the kitchen while imitating the noise of a percolator in the manner of the instant coffee advert she had seen on her parents TV.

As soon as lessons had finished, she began her cooking. Using a mixture of muggle methods and magic, cooking was really very easy, she reflected as she allowed the soup to whizz itself into a smooth mixture. She dug into a trunk of household goods that she had hardly touched since she arrived and unearthed a snowy white starched linen table cloth and napkins. She had considered putting a single red rose on the table in a beautiful silver vase she had, but had decided that it would look too much like a romantic meal à deux, which this wasn't (was it?). Instead she had settled on a bouquet of miniature roses. And absolutely no candles on the table. 

Snape arrived bang on 9 o'clock. He was wearing his normal black robes, but Hermione noticed that he had washed his hair. Would wonders never cease?

The chit chat over dinner flowed reasonably smoothly and amiably. They both stayed off topics that might lead to controversy. Like, why had the standards in the exams been raised so that nearly a fifth of the students had failed two or more exams last summer? Or, why had Hermione awarded exactly a twenty house points for 'nice dress sense' to a couple of Gryffindors who had had twenty house points deducted by Snape for 'sniggering in a public place'?

The food and the wine both played their part and they were leaning confidentially towards each other over the table while choosing chocolates and sipping coffee. Hermione knew she was slightly drunk and had stopped wondering about anything. Snape was beginning to hope against hope that she was actually finding her company pleasant.

And then … their quite tête à tête was interrupted by frantic knocking.

'Come in,' shouted Hermione.

In burst Felicity Macmahon, the Head Girl, with a desperate look on her face. 'Professor Granger! Headmaster! Thank God I found you!' she blurted out. 'It's Melkior Morgan. I think he is dead!'

_A/N: Challenge requirements number two and three: chess game and lots of alcohol being consumed (well, the latter was no problem – that always happens in my stories anyway)._


	6. Chapter 6: 'Suicide is painless'

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

_A/N: This chapter deals with suicide. Please don't read it if this is likely to upset you._

**Chapter 6: 'Suicide is painless'**

Hermione and Snape flew out of the room after Felicity. She led them up to the owlery, too puffed to speak as she ran. When they reached the door, they found a very pale Paul Smith, incongruously with a muggle flashlight in hand. He had clearly just been sick.

'He said he was going to send an owl to his father. To tell him he had been expelled, I mean. And when he didn't come back, I went to look for him. And that is when I found him. He was already dead, I'm sure of it. And he is swinging from the beam …'

Paul was sick again. Meanwhile, Snape had gone in and returned to confirm Paul's account. Hermione was only just beginning to take in what had happened. 

'Expelled?' she asked slowly. Then she turned on Snape. 'That poor boy failed his resits, didn't he? And you expelled him, just like that!' She was shouting by now.

Snape looked slightly crest-fallen, but only slightly.

'I had made the new policy quite clear last year …' he began, but Hermione interrupted him.

'And what help did he get when he was struggling? Did anyone bother to lay on extra lessons? And how did you break the news of his expulsion to him? You just called him in and told him to get out, didn't you?'

In her mind she could see the pale boy on the train who had wanted to do arithmancy but had been told by his father he wasn't clever enough. She thought her heart would break. The thought of his parents raised another issue. Someone would have to tell them. And as it happened, she was standing in as Head of Hufflepuff this weekend as Professor Mopps had gone to see her sister.

'I'm going to see his parents,' Hermione announced. 

Snape raised a hand to stop her. 'Hermione, I don't think …'

'I think you've done enough harm already, Severus,' she announced and before anyone could stop her, she had dashed to the nearest fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. The fireplaces at Hogwarts were keyed to the names of all students, so their parents could be easily reached, and in an instant, Hermione had vanished.

She landed outside a long low Elizabethan manor. To look at, it seemed totally deserted, but when she rang the bell, she could hear movement inside. An ancient house elf appeared at the door. She gave her name and was let into a parlour at the front of the house. The room was icy cold and badly lit, but she could see that the bulk of the furniture was in roughly hewn blackened wood and contemporary with the house. She had seen rooms like that in museums, but nowhere else. 

After a long wait, in which she shivered in her teaching robes, a tall man dressed in black entered the room. He had the haughty look of a pure-blood wizard and regarded her with obvious distaste.

'Yes?' was all he said.

'I am Professor Granger', said Hermione, uncertain how to begin. The man looked sceptical.

Undeterred, Hermione ploughed on. 'I have some very grave news. Very grave indeed. Concerning your son. Perhaps you would like to ask your wife to come in here, too.'

'You can speak to me. I will tell my wife,' said the wizard haughtily as if he wasn't accustomed to having his wife involved in anything.

'Ah, well, if you think so,' faltered Hermione. 'The fact is, there has been an accident. A very grave accident indeed. I am very sorry, but your son, Melkior, that is, … is dead.'

There – it was said. A silence hang in the air for a few seconds.

'Dead? What sort of accident?' exploded the wizard.

'Well, not so much an accident. A … well .. ehr … I'm afraid he appears to have hanged himself.'

'My son killed himself?'

'So it would appear. You have to understand, he was under a lot of strain. He was being threatened with expulsion.'

'Expulsion? What for?'

'There were these exams he had failed and then he failed the resits …'

'Traitor Snape expelled _my_ son?'

Hermione drew a sharp breath. She hadn't heard Snape called 'Traitor Snape' since the Death Eater trials ten years ago, when many an invective had been levelled at him from the dock.

'Where is he?' roared the wizard. 'I want to see him.'

Hermione thought at first that he meant his son's body, but the wizard continued, 'I'm going to wring his neck, the miserable traitor!'

Then he ran to the fireplace and grabbed the floo powder. Hermione was hot on his heals, so they almost tumbled over each other when they landed in Snape's office.

Snape was seated at his desk, filling in what looked like a ministry form.

'You expelled _my_ son!' shouted Morgan Senior. 'You always were a traitor to the cause! How dare you!'

'Your son wasn't performing well enough academically,' said Snape coldly.

'But he was pure blood! You're expelling pure bloods to make way for mudbloods … like this harlot!' Here the wizard pointed at Hermione.

'I am very sorry about your son's death …' began Snape.

'He was a coward – just like his mother. But that is not the point …'

Hermione drew a sharp breath.

'How dare you say that about your own son, when his body is barely cold!' she shouted.

Morgan turned on her. 'Mudblood! Traitor Snape has killed the heir to my name and I will be revenged!' And with that he turned and disappeared through the fireplace.

'Well, of all the heartless things …' began Hermione, but words failed her.

'Welcome to the company of one of the Death Eaters that got away,' said Snape quietly.

'Death Eater?'

'One of the most ardent.'

'But why wasn't he put on trial and convicted.'

'No evidence.'

'But what of your testimony?'

'You may not have noticed, but I and the other spies weren't exactly flavour of the month at the end of the war. Our testimony was not admitted unless corroborated by other evidence.'

Despite her agitation, Hermione heard the bitterness in his voice. And she understood. There he was, having risked his life for fifteen years to defeat Voldemort and at the end of it all no one trusted him. Traitor Snape to everyone.

Still, her anger was not to be assuaged so easily.

'You should never have expelled him like that!'

'I didn't mean for him to die,' said Snape, real contrition in his voice. But Hermione just wasn't receptive to it. She swept out of the room, determined never to speak to him again.

~@~@~@~

The rest of the term became a living hell for Hermione. She was driven by a strong sense of guilt even though she had been neither the Head of House nor the teacher of the boy. Perhaps if she had paid more attention to the rumours of the resits, Perhaps this, perhaps that. Well, she wouldn't make the same mistake again. She carefully inquired who the weakest students were and began a programme of remedial lessons. At first she had meant to include only Gryffindors and arithmancy students, but if soon became clear that Professor Mopps was no help at all to the Hufflepuffs so she would have to take them on too. In the end, she was even tutoring some Slytherins. Since none of the other teachers seemed willing to help, she did most of the work herself, with some help from the Head Girl and the senior prefects. One way or another, she had her work cut out every waking moment of the day. And it went without saying that the chess games with Snape stopped immediately.

~@~@~@~

It would perhaps have surprised Hermione that Snape was also plagued by guilt. He really hadn't meant for the boy to die – had never envisaged that his actions would have that effect. He simply hadn't realised the pressure he was putting on the weaker students. And now the nightmares that made him toss in the night stirred up older feelings of guilt, too. Things he had done as a Death Eater. Things he had done as a spy. Traitor Snape all round, in fact. 

But most of all he missed Hermione. One night, on finding that he had run out of whisky, he put on his dressing gown and ventured into the study where he knew there was a bottle of cognac left from Dumbledore's days. He was just rummaging in the cupboard for it, when Dumbledore's voice rang out.

'If you want her, you'll have to go and get her, old boy.'

Snape jumped in surprise and nearly dropped the bottle. It was the first time the portrait had spoken since the old man's death.

'And what do you know about it? She won't even speak to me.'

The portrait shook its head sadly. 'You don't know until you try.'

Snape snorted and stalked off with his bottle of cognac to drink himself into oblivion yet again.

But the fact was that Hermione did miss Snape, against all the odds. She was still very angry with him for the insensitive way in which he had expelled the boy. But she had come to accept that he wasn't wholly responsible for the death. Hogwarts wasn't the only school for wizards, after all, especially not for wealthy pure blood wizards. Expulsion was bound to be a 'big deal', but with proper parental support, it need not have been the end of everything. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it wasn't the expulsion itself that had driven the poor boy to his desperate decision, but fear of what his father would do. Not that she was about to admit this to Snape, of course.

~@~@~@~

Even the longest term comes to an end and eventually the students were packed off on the Hogwarts' Express for the Christmas holidays. Hermione was walking around the school that night savouring the delicious silence, when she came upon Filch sitting at the bottom of a staircase and muttering to himself. She was sorely tempted to pretend she hadn't seen him and head off in a different direction, but he seemed to be having some genuine difficulty in getting up and her natural goodness won out. She gave the ancient retainer a hand and he dusted himself down, still muttering incoherently. Then he looked up at her with his rheumy eyes and said quite clearly, 'I must be getting soft in the head. If I didn't know better, I'd say that  I just saw four Death Eaters walk up the stairs towards the headmaster's office.'

It took Hermione a moment to react. Then the pieces fell into place. Death Eaters. Headmaster. Revenge. And the next moment she was flying up the stairs.

_A/N: Challenge requirements number four and five: flashlight and fireplace._


	7. Chapter 7: The devil and the deep blue s...

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by**** Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

**Chapter 7: The devil and the deep blue sea**

Hermione drew her wand and threw open the door to Snape's study. She caught one of the Death Eaters with the door and sent him falling flat on his face. Then she shouted 'Expelliarmus!' with all her might. Two wands went flying into the air. The other two Death Eaters managed to hang on to theirs, but were momentarily distracted from the black bundle on the floor. Snape.

'It doesn't matter. We've finished here anyway. Come!' said a voice that was unmistakably Morgan's. 

The four Death Eaters raced to the fire place and departed before Hermione was able to stop them. The bundle on the floor moaned. Not sure whether to be relieved he was alive or panicked by his obvious distress, Hermione pointed her wand at him and said hopefully 'Finite Incantatem!'

Nothing happened. This was stronger and darker magic than could be lifted by that spell. Hermione sank to her knees by Snape's side.

'What have they done?' she asked gently.

Snape lifted his head with difficulty and hissed, 'Devil's curse!'

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. The Death Eaters had done nothing short of call on the Devil himself to curse Snape. It was dark magic of the highest order.

'But that can be lifted … I'll get Flitwick,' she said and jumped to her feet.

'No!' 

Snape's cry stopped her halfway to the door and she turned around slowly.

'It would be too late…' he ground out, every word causing pain. 'Besides – I wouldn't ask Flitwick to do that for me.'

Hermione stared at him. And suddenly she realised what a lonely place the world would be if he died. That she loved him, in fact. That she couldn't just leave him like this. That she had to try whatever was humanly possible to save him.

'I know what needs to be done,' she said slowly. 'I haven't done it, of course, or even seen it done, but I've read about it.' 

Yes – the curse could be lifted, but it required someone to haggle with the Devil for the cursed soul.

'No!' said Snape, but his strength was fading and it was a mere shadow of a protest.

Galvanised into sudden action, Hermione started reciting the incantation under her breath while she raced around the room finding the things she would need, most importantly something to burn to let off a smell of sulphur. Snape was still trying to protest, but she was no longer listening. 

Finally she had it all and placed herself in front of Snape, her arms outstretched.

With a superhuman effort, Snape raised himself on this elbows and said quite clearly, 'Hermione, whatever you do, don't promise Him _anything!' Then he slumped back exhausted._

Hermione regarded him for a moment and then she began to intone the incantation in a loud clear voice.

Although she had read about this procedure many times, she wasn't sure how the Devil would actually appear to her. She had rather imagined that He would appear in corporeal form, hoofed and horned, with forked tail, complete with trident in hand.

Instead her eyes clamped shut of their own accord. And in the darkness she saw two burning red eyes.

'Yes,' said a voice inside her head in a slow, cultured, sarcastic drawl. (If you're British, think Jeremy Paxman).

When she remained silent, the voice added with some impatience, 'You've summoned me. What do you want?'

'I want you to release this man who has been given the Devil's curse,' said Hermione with more assurance than she really felt.

The eyes looked away for a moment and then came back. 

'Severus Snape … Well, well, well. He used to provide me with some amusement, oh, twenty years ago, but I haven't heard much of him since. And why, precisely, should I forgo the sport of tormenting him now for your sake?'

The voice held such menace that Hermione almost lost heart, but then she remembered that she was a Gryffindor.

'Because this is not fair. He hasn't deserved this!'

'Fair? Fair! What on earth gave you the impression that I care about fairness?' shouted the voice in her head. 'No – if you want to save your friend, you'll have to give me something in return.'

'What do you want?' asked Hermione, quaking in her boots.

'Let me see …' said the voice slowly as if considering the question. 'You are a beautiful young woman. If you would strip for me …'

Hermione considered this. Strip. Take her clothes off. That didn't seem so bad. She could do that and walk away.

'And that is it?' she asked. 'If I do that, you'll release him?'

'Don't promise Him anything,' shouted Snape outside her head.

The eyes turned briefly to look at him and then the voice inside her head said, 'Yes.'

'OK,' said Hermione slowly. She slipped the teaching robe off her shoulders and began to unbutton her blouse. She could hear Snape getting quite frantic outside her head, but she didn't stop. Blouse removed, she took off her shoes and removed her skirt and petticoat. Now she was standing in her bra, knickers and stockings.

Suddenly the Devil made a noise like the Anthony Hopkins does when playing Hannibal Lecter. Hermione froze with terror. The eyes in her head noticed and the voice came back, once more soave and cool.

'Don't stop!' it drawled.

Hermione pulled herself together and removed her underwear. The moment she was naked a strange sensation swept over her body. It was as if the Devil was touching her _everywhere all at once. The feeling was incredibly erotic and she felt her mind floating off into a dream of ecstasy. She could feel desire flooding every pore of her body and an irresistible hot wetness between her thighs. Never in her life had she been so turned on._

'Let me take you …' whispered the voice inside her head.

She was floating in a delicious dream and so close to saying yes that the word had already begun to form on her lips. 

'No!' Snape cried out with the last ounce of breath in his body.

The cry brought Hermione to her senses.  

'No! That wasn't part of the deal!'

'It wasn't, but don't you want it?' said the voice in her head seductively.

It took all her presence of mind to turn away from the temptation, from the promise of boundless sexual gratification.

'No – I don't want it. I've stripped. I've fulfilled my side of the bargain. Now I want you to fulfil yours!' she cried.

'Humph!' said the Devil. 'Well, never mind. I can come for you some other time!' 

And suddenly he was gone in a puff of red smoke. 

Hermione began to collapse, but Snape had made it across the room to catch her before she reached the ground.


	8. Chapter 8: Just flood my darkness with y...

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

_A/N: Please note this story is rated 'R'._

**Chapter 8: Just flood my darkness with your light**

Snape stood speechless with the unconscious Hermione in his arms. He didn't know what she'd done or why, all he knew was that she had succeeded – the Devil had chosen to release him. He couldn't imagine why on earth she had done this for him, but he owed his life to her.

Slowly Hermione opened her eyes and smiled at him.

'You're OK,' she said.

'Evidently,' said Snape with his usual sarcasm. Then he realised with alarm how much she was shivering. 

'I'll get a blanket,' he said and started to put her down.

'Don't leave me,' said Hermione with real alarm in her voice and clung tightly to him.

Snape realised that he wasn't going to be able to fetch anything for her, so he wrapped his robes around her. She stilled a little. And so they stood for quite a while. Snape gradually became more and more aware that he was holding a naked woman in his arms. He felt a desire flood his body. Silently he berated himself – she saved your life and this is how you reward her, by lusting after her! But he could do nothing but stand there holding her.

Presently, Hermione seemed a little calmer although she was still deathly cold. Snape said, 'I've got a quilt in my bedroom. How about we walk together in there. I won't let go of you. And then I can wrap you up in the quilt.'

Hermione nodded and let him put her down. They made their way tightly together into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Snape bundled her up in his quilt. Then he wrapped his arms tightly round the outside and held her.

He was aware that he needed something to steady his nerves, and he suspected Hermione was, too. As soon as he thought it safe, he made a suggestion, 'I have everything for making tea in this room. I won't leave you alone, but if you'll let me go over to the fireplace, I'll make us both a cuppa.'

Hermione nodded and Snape let go of her. When he turned back round, cups of tea in hand, he found her still tightly wrapped in the quilt, but she had freed one arm to receive the tea. He thought that slim naked arm was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. He handed her the cup and sat down next to her, slipping his free arm around her waist. They sat like that looking at each other for a moment, and then almost without knowing how, they bent forward into a kiss.

It was a pretty chaste affair, that first kiss, not least because they were both holding steaming hot cups of tea. Snape broke the kiss and carefully leant down to put his cup on the floor. Hermione reached her out for him to do the same with hers. And then he encircled her with his arm and embarked on a kiss that was wholly different to the first.

When they came up for air, Hermione said, 'I need you … tonight.'

Snape's eyes were pools of black as he looked at her and nodded slowly. 

The words of a song came into Hermione's mind. Either the room was magically keyed to music running through people's minds, or Dumbledore's portrait in the outer office had something to do with it. Either way, no sooner had she thought of it than the beautiful lyrics boomed through the room:

_Lend me your love tonight_

_Don't ask me who or what is right_

_I have no strength, I cannot fight_

_Just flood my darkness with your light._

Snape laid her down carefully on the bed and unwrapped the quilt, running his hands along her body. She moaned and bucked at his touch. Then she reached up to start undoing his shirt. But Snape took her wrist gently but firmly, stopping her. He reached across to the bedside cabinet and grabbed his wand. With one wave, all the lights went out. Hermione heard him mutter something else in the ensuing darkness and, with a soft fluttering, all his clothes disappeared. She reached for his body and pulled him to her. He pushed her knees apart and sank into the space.

Hermione was used to Michael's approach to foreplay, which was so prolonged and ineffectual that she had often wondered whether he would mind if she took a book to bed with her. She therefore gave a squeak of surprise when Snape entered her immediately. But she was already in such a state of arousal that a mere touch from his fingers was sending her spiralling to ecstasy. Snape felt her eagerness and had to fight hard to restrain himself. He was like a whirlwind, who swept round her, through her, engulfed her. His energy was electric.

Once it was over, he sank by her side. She snuggled into his arms and fell into a deep sleep, happy and sated. A few minutes later, Snape was asleep, too.

~@~@~@~

Snape woke first in the pale grey light of the early dawn. He wasn't used to sleeping very much and now he lay watching the woman in his bed. 

He understood precisely the meaning of what she had said last night. _I need you … tonight. She had needed him there and then to banish the feeling of the Devil on her body. It held no promise of continuation. Perhaps it had all been a side effect of her ordeal. Perhaps he should have stopped her. Perhaps he should have restrained himself. Perhaps she would feel that he had taken advantage of her. Perhaps she would wake and look at him with revulsion. He hadn't wanted her to see his fifty year old body last night, but now in cold the dawn light it was inevitable._

By the time Hermione began to stir, Snape had convinced himself that she would run screaming from the bedroom. He was surprised how much this thought hurt. And so it was with trepidation that he watched her open her eyes.

Muzzy with sleep, it took Hermione a few moments to realise where she was. Then she looked up at Snape, smiled and said, 'My, were you a revelation last night!'

He felt a bubble begin to expand within him and fill him with more happiness than he had ever felt in his whole life.

~@~@~@~

They made love again, but completely differently. A slow, comfortable, early morning screw, tender and passionate at the same time.

When they lay in each others arms afterwards, Snape said, 'When you were with your husband …'

Hermione raised herself on her elbows and put on serious face. 

'Severus Snape! If you think that I'm going to discuss my marital sex life with you …'

Snape hastily started to apologise, fearing he had gone too far. But Hermione's face softened into a smile.

'Let's just say that he quoted as one of the reasons why he wanted a divorce, that I was frigid.'

'You? Frigid?' said Snape in disbelief.

So Hermione said again what she had said to Michael. 'There is no such thing as a frigid woman – only a woman who is with the wrong man.'

She thought that Snape would laugh, but his face grew serious. He placed one finger on her forehead and ran it lightly down to the tip of her nose. Then he asked, 'Does that mean that I am the right man for you?'

'So it would appear. So it would appear,' replied Hermione.


	9. Chapter 9: Epilogue

**Lend me your love tonight**

**by**** Katta (KET on ff.net)**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it._

**Chapter 9: Epilogue**

The mild June air played with Hermione's hair as she came out of Flourish and Blotts, laden with bags. She and Snape had taken advantage of the end of term to go to Diagon Alley to stock up on some supplies. She was smiling gently to herself as she walked down the street.

Suddenly a tripping hex was whispered at her from somewhere in the crowd to her left. She was sent flying and all her parcels fell in heaps around her. She looked up to see Michael Corner with a young blonde witch hanging on his shoulder, both laughing gleefully. 

Hermione couldn't believe he had been so childish, but the blonde turned to look at him with adoration. With some dignity, Hermione began to gather up her purchases, hoping nothing had been broken. The pair in front of her were so caught up in their merriment, they didn't notice the dark brooding figure bearing down on them, until he clapped a hand on each shoulder.

'Never, ever do that to a member of my staff again!' hissed Snape. 'Or I will hex you so you can't sit down for a year.'

Michael slunk off like the coward he was, and Hermione noticed with satisfaction that the blonde no longer looked so admiringly at him.

Snape helped her up, picked up all the parcels, and began to escort her towards the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. He was chatting away with what in any other person would be described as irrepressibly good humour. But good humour, whether irrepressible or not, was not a state of mind you normally associated with Snape, not even during the last six months as their affair had deepened into a very satisfying relationship. Hermione was surprised but didn't want to dampen his spirits. 

When they had sat down at a table in the pub, she asked with mock suspicion, 'What have you been up to while I've been shopping, then?'

'I've been to the bank,' said Snape.

'And has the sight of all the gold in your vault put you in such a good mood?'

Snape looked worried for a moment. 

'I'm not a rich man ...' he began.

'I know that,' said Hermione reassuringly.

'But I did get something out of my vault,' he continued.

Suddenly, the good humour seemed to leave him to be replaced by intense nervousness as he reached inside his pocket and brought out a small box. Hermione leant curiously across the table as he opened it. She gasped when she saw that it contained a beautiful gold ring, set with a great many stones, and clearly of great value and antiquity.

Snape cleared his throat. 

'Ehr, this is something of an heirloom in my family,' he began and then seemed to dry up. He had to take a drink of water while Hermione's eyes followed his every move. Finally, he summoned up the courage to continue.

'Hermione, my dearest, will you marry me?'

'Of course I'll will! I thought you would never ask!' was her reply.

THE END

_A/N: That's it finished, I'm afraid. I wish I could write something longer, but it takes a lot of time, I've found. Sorry about the fluffy ending, but I just upset myself too much otherwise. Thank you for all the kind reviews. To those of you who liked the first half or so best (if you're still reading): if I ever write anything other than fanfiction, I'll certainly stick to that style, but, hey, this is fanfiction and has its own conventions._

_LoL__ – Katta._


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Harry Potter, Angst, Romance