Chapter 7

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Hermione spotted Ginny drawing nearer to her in the hall. She didn’t have much time. She was hurrying faster, her red hair fanning out behind her.

Hermione edged nearer the tapestry and snaked her hand behind it. She couldn’t believe her luck. She crumpled the clover in her hand and shoved it up the sleeve of her robe.

“Is it there?” Ginny asked anxiously.

“No,” Hermione said. Ginnys face fell slightly, although she still held her smile.

“Oh, well,” she said. “He’s probably waiting for the weekend. I caught him staring at me during breakfast.”

Hermione arched one eyebrow at her.

“I know,” Ginny said guiltily. “I made a rude face at him and he had the nerve to look surprised!”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Cheeky!” Hermione made a face at Ginny. At least this was entertaining.

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Hermione stirred the clear green potion. It sloshed in the silver cauldron and it’s waves took on a pinkish hue. She had a half an hour to finish this and get to the empty classroom. It still had to simmer for another few minutes, she guessed. Anyway, if she were late she’d just explain Ginny had felt ill and Filch was blocking her way.

She smiled down as the potion shimmered and disappeared, leaving what looked like pink gas swirling around and around in the bottom of the cauldron.

She picked up a ladle nearby, and began to ladle the pink gas into a cobalt colored perfume atomizer. She held the bottle in front of her and shook it a little. It sloshed in the bottle, but none leaked out. Perfect.

She slid on simple burgundy velvet sleeping robes and knotted a metallic gold rope around her midsection. She slid the bottle into a purple velvet pouch and attached it to the rope around her waist.

It hadn’t been hard to get the invisibility cloak from Harry. Hermione promised to calculate the trajectory on a new move he and Ron were working on. It seemed flawless already, but Ron still thought it was a hair too slow and could be improved.

Hermione sighed to herself. If Ron could be this focused with his other studies he’d have gotten more O.W.L.s.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She frowned and pointed her wand at her hair.

“Telendralis,” she ordered. With that her curls began to snake and weave themselves around her crown. Within a few minutes her hair was braided back neatly and pulled to the back of her head. She clasped a gold ring set with a red stone onto the remainder of her loose curls and they cascaded down her back.

She decided against shoes, she didn’t want to make any noise. She pulled on three of her thickest pairs of socks and looked in the mirror again. Good. The robe was so long her feet were covered.

She smiled.

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Snape stood in his office stirring a cauldron. He was going to get to touch her again. His heart felt as if it were in his throat. His groin tightened at the thought of her.

In front of Snape were four cauldrons, all full of polyjuice potion in it’s different stages of development. His mouth quirked. He would have to thank Barty Crouch Jr. in the afterlife for teaching him a most diabolical trick. Always have a flask on hand. You never know when it will come in handy.

He spooned a mouthful into a small cup with no handle. He examined the murky potion in disgust. Foul in its present state, polyjuice potion could be altered so the drinker wouldn’t choke on it. He dribbled a bit of blue liquid from a bottle into the polyjuice potion. He sniffed.

A smell wafted up from the cup not unlike lemons and fresh cut grass. He dropped in one of Malfoys hairs and watched the potion turn a bright orange red. He had placed a hair from Malfoy into a metal flask last time and had not seen it’s color change at all. Curious.

Snape sat the cup down on a chair and removed his clothing. He drank the potion and waited to transform. He watched his pale skin regain a youthful luster and watched the world grow around him as she shrank a few inches.

Snape, who now looked like Malfoy, examined his image in a chrome plated dish. Flawless.

He cupped his hand around his mouth and sniffed his breath. He caught his image in the dish and straightened up. He walked over to the couch on which a students set of Hogwarts robes were located. He slipped them on and began to walk to the unused classroom. Five minutes to go. Not bad.

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Hermione quickly padded down the stairs to the dungeon. She skittered around the corner, sliding on the stone floor in her socks and flew into the classroom.

She looked at the bare desk and remembered what had happened the last time she was here. With someone she didn’t know. And it was good. And it wasn’t Draco. This somehow cheered her.

She took off Harrys invisibility cloak and sat on the edge of the desk, waiting, still panting from her run. At least she got there before him. Whoever he was.

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Snape marched quickly down the hallway before he realized students did not march down hallways in the middle of the night. He moved a bit quieter and tried to loosen his walk a little.

He reached the classroom and looked at the thick wooden door. Now closed. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side, sort of. Last weekends game was fun, but now he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

He turned the handle.

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Hermione sat alone. On the edge of the desk waiting for him. He felt vaguely faint. He didn’t remember moving his feet, but he was next to her, clasping both of her hands to him, kissing the backs of them, the palms, the wrists.

Kneeling before her he went to run his hands up her legs, reaching for the hem of her robes, meaning to bring them up and kiss her full on the lips. Instead he encountered what felt like plush footballs.

“What on earth?” he began, looking at the socks and starting to laugh. He looked up at her to gaze into her eyes and found himself looking at Hermione pointing a perfume atomizer at him. He barely had time to register his confusion before she squirted him in the face.

He felt himself getting larger, his robes splitting across the back and the sleeves shortening.

“Oh no,” he whispered up at Hermione, eyes full of pleading.

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He had rushed across the room and not even asked where Ginny was. He had not molested her, not really, just looked at her with an expression of… relief?

When he reached for her robes, she reached for her pouch.

Now she was staring at her Potions Professor.

“Merlin’s beard,” she whispered.