Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Much thanks as always to my betas Septentrion and Sempra.

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Summer Term. Quidditch. The House Cup. A sense of eager anticipation for the summer holidays, combined with the dread of impending exams, was hanging in the air. Stressed-out fifth and seventh-years, realising that their O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts were approaching at an alarming speed, wore worried frowns of concentration while attempting to cram several years-worth of study into a few short weeks. And in the background, the teachers—part of the scenery, a necessary evil, whose only purpose in life was to pile on the pressure until their brains exploded, not people with worries and yearnings of their own.


The boys struggling with raging hormones, hair sprouting in peculiar places and voices they could no longer trust, wrestled with the mystery that was girls and yet had no inkling that the dour professor with the bad hair and the beaky nose was suffering comparable agonies. The girls huddled together in giggling groups on Hogsmeade High Street paid little or no attention to their Headmistress smiling at Professor Snape for holding the door open for her at Scrivenshaft's, or the way he gently steered her inside, or their animated conversation when they emerged from the shop a few moments later.


The same could not be said for the portraits and ghosts of Hogwarts castle, for whom Hermione and Severus' obvious attraction to one another was the hottest topic of conversation. The former heads of Hogwarts, in particular, had plenty to say on the subject—when Hermione was safely out of earshot, of course.

'... conduct unbecoming a headmistress of this school.'

'Fiddlesticks, Armando.' Dilys Derwent's silver ringlets swung violently as she shook her head. 'This could be the making of both of them.'

'Romantic drivel,' Albus muttered. 'If the governors get wind of this—'

'They won't. Unless you tell them.'


'Save your breath, Dilys.' Minerva sighed. 'You may as well talk to the wall. Now, are you ready? It's getting late.'

'Almost. I'll just get my reticule...'

'You don't fool me you, you old goat,' Phineas said once the witches had left. 'You're loving this, aren't you?'

'Can you blame me?' Albus chuckled. 'I haven't had this much fun in years—and Dilys has a point. If Hermione does decide to take Severus on, he won't know what hit him.'

'Severus is no pushover.' Phineas glared at Albus. 'He's more than a match for Hermione.'

'Care to wager on that?'

~HGSS~


Frowning, Minerva rearranged the hand in front of her.

Betty called spades.

'Any news on our two lovebirds?' the Fat Lady asked, leading with a five of hearts.

Minerva snorted, following suit. 'None.'

'She entertains him in her private chambers, you know,' said Dilys. 'Drives Armando potty.'

'I've no idea why that should be—since nothing improper happens,' Minerva was quick to emphasise. 'All they ever do is talk.'

'Sir Nicholas said—'

'Don't believe a word he tells you.' Betty threw a card down and smiled at Minerva. 'And I think it's rather sweet. Like a proper courtship should be.'


Minerva was visibly shocked. 'You approve of a Gryffindor?'

'I like Hermione,' Betty replied. 'And they'll come to their senses, eventually. Have faith. Now, whose turn is it?'

'Um... mine.' Dilys studied her cards. 'Any news on your new home, by the way?'

'Almost ready, I believe.'

'You know you're always welcome to stay with me.' Dilys added the two of spades to the pile.

'You're most generous.' Betty trumped the lot and gathered the cards towards her. 'That broom cupboard reminds me far too much of my coffin.'

The others shuddered, thankful that was one memory they'd been spared.


'I'm just glad Hermione had the sense not to get involved with Professor Burbage,' Minerva said hastily, anxious to change the subject.

The Fat Lady began dealing the cards. 'Ye-ess... way too smooth for my liking...'

'Definitely.' Dilys nodded in agreement. 'I can't put my finger on it exactly, but... something's off there. Definitely.'

Betty looked up sharply. 'What did you say, Dilys?'

'I said there's— Betty, dear. Are you all right?'

'I'm fine, thank you. I've just remembered something...'

The others looked at her expectantly.

'Oh, I don't suppose it's terribly important.' Betty shrugged. 'It can wait until tomorrow.'


~HGSS~


She was doing it again. Slowly winding the quill feather though her fingers while checking her calculations. The way she was nibbling her lip was damned annoying, too. And did she have to lean over the desk like that?

It had been weeks now. Weeks of utter torture. Of course, she wasn't flaunting herself deliberately. It was all quite innocent—he knew that, but it didn't make it any easier or make him want her any less. Two steps. That's all it would take, and he would be behind her, scrunching up her skirts, burying himself up to the hilt...

Turning her head slightly, Hermione gave him a weak smile before returning to her Arithmantic problem. Seeing her so distracted hauled Severus' thoughts out of the gutter.

'Governors giving you a hard time?'

She nodded, not looking up.

'Hermione...'

'Hmm?'

'Come here. Please.'

She frowned. 'Why?'

'I want to hold you. Please.'

Two steps and she was in his arms, head tucked under his chin. 'Do you want to tell me what happened?'

'Oh...' She sighed against his chest. 'They didn't think much of my idea to abolish the Sorting, that's all.'

Severus chuckled softly. 'And you find that surprising?'


'It's not like I suggested doing away with the houses.' She huffed. 'That wouldn't be practical. I just don't see why a child's future should be decided by a hat. It's a nonsense.'

'It's tradition.'

Hermione twisted around to glare up at him. 'It's completely arbitrary! Take me, for instance. My marks were consistently higher than any Ravenclaw in my year; I'm loyal and I'm ambitious. And you. You're the bravest, most intelligent, most loyal man I know. Why not sort the first-years alphabetically? It would make just as much sense.'

'Hermione... You're trying to change too much too soon.'


It would have been too easy to point out it was Hermione's inability to see the shades of grey in any given situation, together with her unswerving conviction that she always knew best, which marked her out as a Gryffindor. But she was in his arms, holding him tight, and he wasn't about to spoil the moment. Nothing he said could ever change her, anyway, which was absolutely fine by him.

'I knew you'd take their side.' She was staring at him accusingly.

Severus shook himself out of his reverie. 'On the contrary, I think your suggestion merits due consideration.'


'Really? I never thought I'd ever hear you say that.' Hermione put her head on his chest again, and Severus' heart speeded up a little.

'Yes, well... I think you'll find that I am... not quite so resistant to change as you might think.'

Hermione inhaled sharply. 'No?'

'No... I....' He swallowed. 'Tradition will always have its place, but one should always be... open to new ideas.'

'Are you trying to tell me something, Severus?' Hermione asked, raising her head once more.

'Subtlety... Thy name is Gryffindor...'

'Oh...'

'A-hem.' A hollow cough overhead made them spring apart.

'It is time.'


'Time for what?' Severus asked somewhat tetchily.

The Bloody Baron ignored him. Floating towards the fireplace, he stopped and hovered, pointing a ghostly finger at something.

Glancing at each other, Hermione and Severus crossed the room to join him.

'There, Snape. Your wand.'

'Very well... If you insist.' Severus touched his wand to the wall under the ghost's watchful eye. 'Now what?'

A second later, scraping and rumbling, the stones rearranged themselves to form an archway. Without looking back, the Baron passed though.

'Well, I wasn't expecting that,' said Hermione.

'Indeed not. Shall we?'

She mock bowed. 'After you.'

'Lumos!'


The passageway, though vaulted, was a bit on the low side, and Severus and Hermione had to stoop as they walked. Narrow shafts of light punctured the darkness at intervals, but they were glad of the wand-light nonetheless—if only to avoid walking into the cobwebs that were strung across their path.

Severus stopped abruptly, causing Hermione to bump into him.

'What is it?' she asked.

'A door...' Severus fished in his pocket and produced the golden key. 'If this leads where I think it does...' It was a perfect fit. The lock clicked; Severus lifted the latch and pushed.


Perplexed, Hermione followed a grinning Severus up the spiral staircase. Reaching a landing, Severus picked the first door on his left, which opened into a lofty, formal hall. As they looked around in wonder, the fire roared to life of its own accord.

'No one's been here in years,' Hermione muttered, noticing the dust-covered tapestries. 'Not even the elves. Where are we?'

'Shall I tell her or will you?'

Hermione spun around and stared, open-mouthed, at the portrait above the fireplace. Even without the locket around his neck, she'd have recognised him anywhere.

'Headmistress.' He bowed. 'Welcome to Slytherin Tower.'

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