Summary of Chapter 20 – Future Plans

Two months before graduation, Hermione is getting worried as she still has no idea what career to choose; that is, until two ministry employees from the Department of Mysteries come head-hunting at Hogwarts and offer her a job as an Unspeakable. Hermione happily accepts. While she makes plans to move into Grimmauld Place with Harry, Severus has been offered to make himself at home at Prince House.

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What Happens on Graduation Day

Bright moonlight fell through the giant trees on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, deepening the shadows and bathing the grey, stony ground Hermione and Severus were walking on in silvery light. Although they were nowhere near the dangerous parts of the forest, Hermione tried to stay close to the dark clad wizard who was leading the way. Conditions were ideal for collecting Moon Dew Flowers, which only bloomed around this time of the year and only under a full moon like tonight.

Severus seemed to know exactly where to go – and he also seemed to have night vision, as his stride was confident and unworried. Hermione was having trouble keeping up with him. The constant change between light and shadow confused her sight and made her steps insecure and hesitant. Besides, his legs were much longer than hers.

“Careful there,” Severus chided, when she stumbled over a root that had been practically invisible in the shadow of a huge tree. He reached out just in time to steady her, preventing her from falling.

“I can’t see anything,” she complained. “And stepping into those dark patches makes me nervous. I feel like I'm stepping into a void each time.”

He rolled his eyes. “There are no voids out here. The path is perfectly safe. I want you to see the meadow with the Moon Dew flowers in full bloom. It’s quite a sight – you’ll like it. Well, come on then, take my hand so I can lead you. Otherwise we might not make it there before sunrise.”

Smiling at the unexpected offer, Hermione accepted his outstretched hand. She had known for a long time that students’ presumptions that the much disliked Potions Master must surely have cold and clammy hands were utter rubbish. In her fifth year, an unsuspected allergic reaction to otherwise harmless Knarl Quills had demanded his immediate intervention. Cradling her small hand in his larger one, he had quickly cast a healing charm and applied a salve to counteract the reaction of her skin. Hermione hadn’t felt any pain. She had been too distracted by the warmth of his touch – and confused to notice that it was anything but revolting.

Of course, he had then chased off all benevolent thoughts by deducting ten points from Gryffindor for the stupidity of touching Knarl Quills while being allergic to them – as if she had known! She now understood that he had just resented being forced into such personal interaction, no matter if it had been her fault or not. He really was unapproachable. Except to her.

Now that she was happily walking with her hand in his beneath the starlit sky, their excursion almost felt like a romantic summer night’s stroll to her – even more so since he was taking her to see a field of flowers. The thought made her smile. A moonlight walk, hand in hand with her snarky Potions Master. A pity she couldn’t tell anyone. Trusting that he would safely steer them around any obstacles, Hermione was quite comfortable and enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

Sadly, it didn’t take them long to reach the meadow where the white flowers grew in abundance between ferns and mosses. The sight was truly spectacular. The flowerheads looked like upturned bells and were filled with nectar. The moonlight caught and reflected therein made them sparkle like liquid silver. They both stood in silent appreciation for about a minute, before Severus shattered every semblance of romance by letting go of her hand and setting her to work on collecting the precious moon dew.

Emptying the valuable liquid into the glass vials they had brought proved to be a cumbersome procedure. Fortunately, the flowers tended to grow in dense bushes, so that Hermione was able to sit down right next to one and empty about 30 flowers before she had to move to a new spot.

Severus smirked when he saw her sitting amid the wildflowers. She made for a really quaint picture, but he suspected that he would look rather undignified if he did the same. So instead, he sat down on a boulder and cast a growth-accelerating charm over the nearest Moon Dew flower bushes, making their stems prolong by few inches until they were at a comfortable height for harvesting.

“You’re cheating,” Hermione accused when she saw what he did, a slight frown on her forehead. “You could have at least told me that that’s how it’s done.”

“It’s not a recommended method you can find in a book, Hermione,” he chuckled. “I came up with it myself after I suffered from backache the first time I collected Moon Flower Dew myself. That’s the beauty of magic – it allows you to get creative.”

They worked amicably side by side, moving from spot to spot, but always staying near each other. Severus found the work peaceful and relaxing, and felt no urge to engage in conversation. Hermione, however, still seemed a bit distracted and kept throwing him furtive glances from beneath her lashes when she thought he wasn’t watching. He wouldn’t have minded, had they been of the kind she often threw him during potions class: Glances full of secret longing and desire. But in the last couple of days, he thought he had detected insecurity and worry in her eyes. It seemed as if she was about to say something, only to cop out at the last moment.

Something was clearly bothering her, and he was wondering about what it could possibly be. Surely not her final exams - those were over and done with, and he knew that they had all gone extremely well for her. She’d probably get all straight ‘O’s except in DADA. She should be relaxed and enjoying the few remaining days of school – just like the majority of her classmates, who couldn’t be bothered with classes or homework anymore, but rather spent their time lazing about at the lake or at the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione, however, seemed even more tense then before her N.E.W.Ts. So whatever it was that bothered her, it had to do with him. Was she having second thoughts now that graduation was approaching, and didn’t know how to tell him? It was starting to make him all tense and nervous, too, as he was prone to always suspect the worst.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” he said, when he caught her furtively casting him a sideways glance once more. “You’re wearing the same expression on your face that you used to have in Potions class when bursting to ask a question or share a piece of information, but were afraid that I would admonish you for it. It’s been going on for days now! Whatever it is bothering you: Tell me, because worrying about it is driving me insane!”

She blushed. No, Occlumency had not cured her of this particular tell as of yet, and he was grateful for the cues it sometimes gave him. But right now, even that wasn’t helpful.

“It’s stupid, really...” she said sheepishly, lowering her gaze.

“I assure you it won’t be the first time I hear something stupid, although it’s admittedly rare coming from you. You can safely utter about five ridiculously stupid things before I’ll start questioning your intelligence. So – go ahead.” He put a stopper into his vial and gave her his full attention.

Hermione looked up, feeling like the proverbial doe in the headlights beneath his inquisitive gaze. She hadn’t been sure whether to bring it up at all... There were things you shouldn’t be planning and discussing, but simply allowing to come to pass. But maybe if he would tell her, she would be able to relax.

“Okay, fine,” she sighed, gathering her courage. “Maybe I should have just asked you right away, but I thought I was being ridiculous. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about what exactly is going to happen on graduation day, and not knowing what to expect is making me slightly edgy...”

Severus frowned. Not knowing the exact proceedings on graduation day bothered her? That was odd indeed, even for someone as obsessed with planning as she. Was she expecting some kind of big surprise, something that was being kept a secret until the evening had arrived?

“Well, I suspect this will come as a huge disappointment then, but there is no special ceremony for the graduates you have to worry about,” Severus replied, still slightly bemused, but also relieved that it was nothing serious. “There have often been discussions about it – some teachers and students felt that the closure of such an important chapter in young people’s lives deserved some kind of acknowledgment. But apart from the logistics, it was argued that it would be unfair to have a celebration for graduates and family if Muggle parents would have to be left out as they can’t access Hogwarts. That’s why we just have the annual Leaving Feast in the evening for all students.”

Hermione’s embarrassment at what she really had wanted to know evaporated in the light of this blithe display of ignorance on his part. For a man of his intelligence, he could really be obtuse, sometimes. She could only stare at him as he pulled out an empty vial and started working on his flowers again, while he continued describing what he thought she had asked for: the details of procedures on graduation day.

“As you probably already know, graduates who have passed their apparition tests are not required to take the Hogwarts Express the next morning. They are free to simply disapparate right after the Leaving Feast, if they want to. There is a leaving ritual of sorts, however, that Dumbledore established when he became a teacher – I suspect to prevent students from celebrating in Hogsmeade after the feast and splinching themselves when trying to apparate in a drunken state later.”

“Yes, I read about that in ‘Hogwarts, a History’,” Hermione solicitously put in. She always had the latest edition, and traditions started by Dumbledore were old enough to have made it into it. “Graduates are escorted to the Boat House after the Leaving Feast by their heads of house in order to take the boats across the lake, from where they disapparate when they are beyond the anti-apparition wards. It’s supposed to be a rite of passage that closes the circle: Leaving in the same manner we arrived at Hogwarts so many years ago – by boat.”

Severus shook his head, hiding an amused smirk. Of course she had read about it. ‘Hogwarts, a History’ seemed to be her bible, and it wouldn’t surprise him if she knew the entire tome by heart. “I suppose it suited Albus’ flair for drama. Of course, it’s also usually good for some amusement, as there’s usually at least one dunderhead who forgets to place a stabilising charm on the boat before standing up to disapparate. Some rites of passage always end in the water.”

“It won’t happen to the boat I’m in,” Hermione said with conviction. What an embarrassing way to ruin what she considered a really nice ritual. In fact, she was hoping that this year’s graduates would start yet another tradition. Though house unity had never been encouraged in Hogwarts, the war had brought them all together and had made the distinction seem petty. They had all been through so much together, and leaving Hogwarts was a turning point for all of them and deserved some kind of joint recognition. Therefore a few seventh years - most notably Harry, Hermione, Luna and Draco – had put a plan into motion to make this years graduation special.

For the first time ever, there was going to be a celebration for all the seventh year student who were willing to set their house prejudice aside: It was going to take place the night before the official Leaving Feast, at the lake. Draco and Luna, who were good at Charms, had put added extension charms on the tent Hermione had carried around for so long, and given it a slightly oriental look and design.

Severus hadn’t been suspicious when Hermione had asked him to return what he had taken into safekeeping so that she could start packing all her belongings. A lot the things in her emergency equipment had come in handy – the cooking utensils and the dishes, for instance. All they had to do was to multiply them. Neville was in charge of organising food and beverages from Aberforth, and Muggle-born students had been given the task of procuring marshmallows to be roasted over campfires at the beach. The wizarding wireless device that had been their only news source while on the run would assure they had musical entertainment as well.

It was unlikely that they’d be able to keep the party a secret from their teachers and the rest of the students, even though they had soundproofed the tent, but that wasn’t really their intention anyway. They were, after all, about to start a new tradition.

“Since you’re obviously aware of procedures, you just have to know where to apparate to,” Severus said, assuming that she and Harry – and probably the Weasleys, too – would get together at Grimmauld Place. Draco planned to go straight to France and visit his parents in exile.

“Well, Harry, Ron, Ginny and I are supposed to go to the Burrow,” Hermione said, sounding a bit reluctant. “Molly is planning a party for us.” The relationship between Harry and Ginny was still awkward and slightly tense, but no matter what happened, Harry remained an adoptive son to the Weasleys, and to not celebrate the occasion together was unthinkable. Unfortunately, ever since Ron’s and Lavender’s engagement, the exhausting girl was now part of the gang, too, and would also be there.

“Of course,” Severus said drily. “I should have known.”

“I could decline,” Hermione offered hesitantly. “I mean, I really want to celebrate my graduation with you, and...”

“No, don’t!” he interrupted right away. “If Molly is having a party for you, then you should definitely be going to the Burrow with your friends.”

“But...”

“No ‘but’, Hermione,” he repeated firmly. “It’s your graduation. You’ve been through thick and thin with those dunderhead friends of yours for seven long years. You defeated trolls, possessed teachers, a basilisk, Death Eaters, Umbridge and the Dark Lord together. That deserves a worthy conclusion. I’ve been told that closing one chapter of your life is important before starting the next one. Go to the party and enjoy yourself.”

“And then what?” Hermione demanded to know. She seemed upset, and again he wondered what he had missed. He had the vague feeling that he had done something wrong, but he was damned if he knew what.

“Am I supposed to come back to Hogwarts after the party, or rather the next day or the next weekend?” she inquired, and her voice had a tinge of desperation now. “You said you wanted to wait until I’ve graduated for us to be together. So what does this mean? When will I see you again? I don’t know what your plans are, and I can’t prepare because I’m not sure what exactly will happen. I’m getting a bit nervous about it so I guess I’d really be grateful if you could tell me what your intentions are...”

Severus blinked. “My intentions?” he echoed, a bit dumbfounded. Was she expecting him to propose to her?

“Yes. With regard to the evening and what you expect me to do and... you know...”

It was then that the scales finally fell from his eyes. “Are you, by any chance, asking whether and when we are... going to be intimate?” A look in her eyes confirmed it. Dear Merlin. She still managed take him utterly by surprise. He surely hadn’t expected to have this discussion, certainly not sitting in a field of wildflowers beneath the moonlight.

“Hermione... “ he said, trying to chose his words carefully. “Just because I said we wouldn’t be in a physical relationship while you’re still my student, it doesn’t mean that I have plans to whisk you into my bed the moment you have finished your last day of school. There’s no reason to get nervous – we don’t have to do anything yet... let’s just take it slow.”

“Slow?” she squeaked. Oh no – this was not at all what she had meant to suggest. “We’ve been taking it slow for eight months! I don’t want to go slow anymore! I am all ready - I have been ready for a while now.”

If it hadn’t been for his remarkable self-control, Hermione was sure that they would long since have ended up in his bedroom. There had been quite a few situations from which such a scenario could have developed quite naturally. But their situation being as it was, she couldn’t see how anything was going to develop naturally after graduation day, at least not within a reasonable time-frame. All the windows of opportunity she had envisioned would close within a few days. Although admittedly, most of those hadn’t been awfully realistic to begin with... Especially not the racier fantasies that had often started out with detention.

“Do you really want to jump into it like this?” Severus asked doubtfully. “I had imagined a proper courting... You know – going out on dates and such and progressing from there. Isn’t that how it’s usually done?”


Hermione looked utterly aghast. “Yes, but we’re not exactly in the usual kind of relationship,” she pointed out, hoping that logic would make him see the absurdity of this notion. “Dating is for getting to know each other better. In involves a lot of talking, telling each other personal things, getting a feel for the other’s likes and dislikes. I think we can safely say that we have long gotten past that point. I know all I need to know about you in order to know that you’re the one for me.”

“My little know-it-all...” he said jestingly, not really knowing what else to say. This was – unexpected.

“Please, Severus,” Hermione implored. “We’ve been dancing around each other for eight months. I’ll be going to Australia a week after graduation, and when I’m back, I’ll be moving into Grimmauld Place. I want to spent the time until then with you, not waiting for some weekend after all that to go out and have dinner with you. I want to be with you. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Listening to her well-made points, Severus felt his resolve slipping away. Here he was, faced with a beautiful young witch who wanted to spent the night with him – a couple of nights, if he understood her correctly, and the days, too, and he could only marvel at the absurdity of the situation. Well, his morality and views on appropriateness only carried so far. She was right. They had long moved passed the phase of courting, in which one tried to present oneself only in the best light. They already knew each other’s shadows.

“Very well, then” he said, giving in to his own desires and her wishes. “Go to the Burrow and have fun at the party. If you want to come and see me after that, send me your Patronus so that I can open my floo for you.” It would be bending the rules a bit: For security reasons, Hogwarts was not connected to the floo-network, and only the headmistress had the power to open the connection. Well, she and himself, who the castle still recognised as headmaster for mysterious reasons.

Looking into Hermione’s face, he could see that despite her obvious relief, she still wasn’t entirely happy with the arrangement. He almost wished he hadn’t taught her how to occlude so that he could slip into her mind and find out what was bothering her. He had the nagging suspicion that it might be a woman’s thing, and that he stood no chance of finding out unless he was ungraciously blunt and simply asked her.

“Hermione – what’s wrong? You’re sending all kinds of mixed signals here, and I admit I’m confused. You insist that you don’t want to wait and practically beg me not to turn you down, and yet you seem nervous at the same time. I don’t understand.”

She blushed. “ I can hardly blame you... I guess I’m needlessly complicating things again. The thing it: I don’t need a courting phase to know that I want you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna be nervous about really being with you....” She couldn’t deny that she felt slightly intimidated at the prospect, due to her lack of self-confidence in that regard and the resulting fear of disappointing him.

She decided to be fully honest with him. So far it had proven to be the best course to sail, and if she wanted him to assuage her worries, he should at least be aware of them. “I’m almost twenty, and I have only ever been with one guy, while you have all the experience of a man your age,” she tried to put her worries into words. “As I said – I don’t know what your expectations are, and I’m a little anxious that I might not live up to them. I guess I’m scared that you might find me lacking – like Ron did – and that I will disappoint you and you will call this off.”

“That I will call this off?” he echoed, incredulous. “‘This’ meaning you and me, a relationship? What are you thinking, woman? That I spent the last eight months with you just so I could finally get into your knickers? Seriously, Hermione – this is ridiculous. I could never be disappointed in you, surely not in this. It’s not a test and I’m not going to mark you. It’s impossible to fail, so you can stop fretting about it.”

“Well, I can’t, you know that. I guess I’m still desperate for your approval. I want to do everything right and I just don’t know how to go on about it...”

“Please, just promise me that you won’t go searching the library for books!” He could just about imagine her doing exactly that... looking for absurd books like ‘10 Ways to Make Your Wizard Happy’, ‘Five Positions You Must Have Tried’ or ‘The Perfect Blowjob – How to do it Right’. At least, those were the kind of headlines he had seen on confiscated issues of ‘Witch’s Weekly’, which Hermione probably hadn’t ever subscribed to.

To think that she would work herself into such a state, worrying about pleasing him, being concerned about not meeting his expectations... He had never mattered that much to anybody. That alone was enough to please him beyond what he ever thought was possible. Why did she have so little self-confidence where her female side was concerned? It was quite baffling, especially in light of the fact that he was no adonis, no matter how favourably she might look upon him. Was it because she had been around two boys during her teenage years that had both been oblivious to the fact that she was a girl? Were the male dunderheads in her year really all so dazzled by her intellect that they had failed to see and treat her as a beautiful, desirable witch? How bad could her first experience at sex have been that it had made her so insecure and unsure of herself?

“Hermione – look at me.” She did. “You don’t have to do or prepare anything,” he said firmly. “Haven’t we agreed that I will take full responsibility in that department? That you will let me guide you so you won’t have to decide, plan or worry about anything and can just let yourself fall?”

“Yes,” she breathed with palatable relief. “That’s exactly what I want – instructions. Just tell me what to do, please.”

He barely managed not to shake his head in disbelief. She wanted instructions? Well, it wasn’t really so surprising with all he had come to know about his little Gryffindor control-freak, who was intimidated by situations that required intuition, passion and instinct. He just hadn’t thought they’d start playing these kind of games this early in their relationship. But then – it clearly wasn’t a game to her. Having clear instructions and rules to follow always put her mind at ease - provided those instructions were sensible.

But what should he instruct her about, exactly? What might a woman in her situation be worrying about? What to wear? Probably a classic. How to do her hair? In her case a definite yes. What to shave and how much, possibly? God, as if he cared about any of that, as long as she was willingly in his arms! No, he was definitely not going to instruct her about that! He might be comfortable with exerting dominance, but this whole situation was just as new for him as it was for her, and he’d be lying if he claimed that didn’t make him the tiniest bit nervous, too. After all, chances were much higher that he wouldn’t live up to her expectations than the other way round.

She was still looking at him with expectancy, and he did some quick thinking. “Fine,” he finally said, “here’s what I want you to do: Put on the dress you picked for the party at the Burrow underneath your school robe and wear it to the Leaving Feast. Beneath that, wear a pair of knickers in either black or Slytherin green, with a matching, front closing lace bra.” The Slytherin green was a bit mean, maybe... but if it irked her slightly, all the better. It was hard to be nervous when feeling vengeful. The front closing bra would spare him some fumbling... he didn’t really have much experience with muggle clothing. Other than that, he didn’t really care all that much about her underwear – if it was up to him, she wouldn’t be wearing it for long anyway – but she probably wouldn’t thank him for simply vanishing it. And the main purpose of giving her instructions was to alleviate possible concerns she had about his tastes, and to hopefully put her mind in the right frame when dressing for the occasion.

Hm... come to think of it, it was actually setting his mind in the right frame as well – he’d probably be thinking about the underwear she had chosen just for him during the entire Leaving Feast. Too bad he wasn’t going to catch a glimpse of her outfit, as students were wearing their school robes for the Leaving Feast. Unless...

“Since you’re so keen on starting new traditions...”

She looked up in surprise, obviously wondering how he knew.

“Oh yes,” he affirmed with a smug smile. “I know all about your plans for the beach party... and before you ask: No, I legilimised no one. But I’ve been a spy for twenty years. Knowing what’s going on beneath my nose has kept me alive. Don’t worry. I won’t deter you. In fact, I think it’s an excellent idea, and I will subtly encourage my Slytherins to participate. At the moment, they’re still desperately trying to figure out what the catch is.”

Hermione stared at him aghast. “There is no catch! Why must they always be so distrustful?”

“It’s in our Slytherin nature, I’m afraid. Anyway, like I said – since you’re so keen on starting new traditions, here’s another one: When you’re in the courtyard, right before going down to the boat house with your fellow students, take off your school robe, transfigure it into a blackbird and let it fly away.”

“Why?” she asked, puzzled.

He smirked and leaned closer, as if confiding a secret. “Because I want to see you in your dress and imagine the underwear you’re wearing beneath it,” he whispered in his most silky baritone, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. This was clearly a breach of their contract, but honestly, who cared?

“The other teachers who will accompany you all to the boats will have no idea what this really is about.... They’ll just see a nice piece of magic, demonstrating how far you have come in your magical education. Our deceased headmaster would doubtlessly appreciate the symbolic character of the gesture, I’m sure: Shedding away what made you a student for seven years, to come out from beneath the black robe like a butterfly from a cocoon, ready to spread her wings...”

He found he rather liked the metaphor himself. It was almost poetic. Hermione seemed to agree. He could see the wheels turning in her head just by looking into her eyes. Knowing her, she would make sure that her classmates wore something nice beneath their robes as well and knew the spell, too. This year’s leaving ceremony was probably going to be much more entertaining than all the others he had attended before.

If this wasn’t so new for both of them, he’d might have ordered her to go without knickers in the first place... Now that was an entertaining idea to keep in mind! He began to see the appeal in giving her precise instructions, especially as she seemed so eager to follow them.

“Wear your hair down,” he ordered, remembering that it would probably be high on the list of her concerns, and that her urge to control it would even be stronger when she felt out of control herself. “And none of that Sleakeazy stuff to make it ‘tame’ or such nonsense!” He had imagined how her wild curls would look flowing all over his pillow many times in the last months, and he was looking forward to seeing it for real.

“At midnight sharp, excuse yourself from your friends at the Burrow and floo to my private quarters – I will lower the wards to my fireplace and connect it to the Floo Network for exactly a minute, so you’d better be punctual.” He made an effort to use his authoritative teacher voice that never failed to affect her, as he had noticed. A useful tool to have...

“What am I going to tell them?” she asked, still in a husky voice, her cheeks now coloured in the nice flush of excitement.

He shrugged, pretending not to care. “That you mustn’t be late for detention? That you’re off to shag your Potions Professor in the Dungeons? That you are madly in love with him and can’t wait to celebrate the fact that you’re finally allowed to act on your feelings?”

Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re okay with me telling them the truth, then?”

“Is it the truth, Hermione?” It was still so hard to believe. She was going to have all the options she could want – what man would say no to a witch who was smart, kind, beautiful and courageous? And yet she kept insisting that she wanted him, even loved him. He knew she was a bit insane, but if she told that to her friends, they would declare her insane, too.

She must have seen the hint of insecurity in his gaze, because her eyes softened. “You know perfectly well that it is, Severus, so you might stop worrying about it,” she repeated the advice he himself had given her earlier and smiled. “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to Graduation Day now.”

“As am I, Hermione... as am I!”