A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 3: Love and Honor

Chapter 20: Valentine's Day

Sirius hadn't been at dinner (Hermione had to admit that she was relieved), but he did arrive in the Headmaster's office that evening to seal the agreement. He insisted on reporting to Dumbledore, rather than Snape, but Severus merely scowled and Dumbledore simply noted that it might be for the best.

Since there wasn't any news, they disbanded quickly, to wait. Meanwhile, there was another evil on the horizon….

Hermione hated Valentine's Day as a teacher even more than she ever had as a student. It was a stupid holiday, after all, and the few gifts she'd received in the past were given more out of a sense of "have to"--or of matching up to everybody else's monetary displays of affection--than any real feeling. She'd much prefer something practical over the usual frippery. And pink was a Gods-awful color.

But now, in the week leading up to the big day (and the inevitable Valentine's Day Party--complete with dance--that Friday evening), the halls were filled with hormonal teenagers going on about true love. "As if they'd know true love at this age if it bit them in the arse," she thought to herself. Her next thought was, "Gods, I sound like Severus." She smiled all the way to Arithmancy.

For his part, Snape was a little concerned. Hermione hadn't said one positive word about Valentine's Day, and while he was happy enough to ignore it all together (as much as was possible, with all the pink and lacy nonsense that was sure to surface in time for the party), he wondered if this wasn't a case of the lady protesting too much. Or of someone who had never been given a reason to like the holiday before, but who would not object to some token of his affection. He didn't think she'd expect it, and he had no idea what she would like, or what would be appropriate. And she said he was hard to shop for….

And then there was the matter of the gossip. It had lessened, where Pomfrey and Sprout were concerned--they were at least keeping it to themselves, though not for a minute did he believe they had stopped their speculations completely. But he had begun to hear whispers as he passed groups of students. Despite everything, Hooch's advice continued to plague him. Surely she was wrong. Surely any public gesture, no matter how small, would simply make matters worse? And there was no guaranteeing Hermione's response. But on the other hand, to confirm the rumors in some small way would take half the fun out of the thing--and by making their relationship a matter of record, they might ensure that, by the end of the term, or at least the start of the next year, it would be old news. A given.

Sometimes he thought dealing with Voldemort had been easier.

Late Thursday afternoon, Hermione stopped by Remus's office. It had been a while since they'd seen each other--at least outside of teachers' meetings, meals, and work on the cure. And after a while, those didn't count.

She knocked lightly at the door, which stood slightly ajar.

"Come in?"

"Hi, stranger. You busy?"

Remus smiled broadly. "Not a bit. At least, nothing that I won't be happy to put off until later. Is there news?"

Hermione sat. "No, I'm sorry. Nothing to report yet. I just came by to chat, really; we haven't done that in a long time."

"I suppose we haven't. I…I apologize for that, I…"

"Oh, Gods, Remus, I'm not here to scold you. We've been busy, we both have. And you know I wasn't in great spirits after the holidays."

"I can't imagine that reading up on the Dark Arts leaves you in a much better mood," Remus noted softly.

"Not you too!" Hermione let out a mock sigh. At the look on his face, she explained, "Severus isn't happy about it, but it's going all right. Having made it through the introductory reading, I can keep up with his train of thought. I don't know that I'll actually have to read much more source material--at least not the worst sorts."

Remus fixed her with an earnest gaze. "Thank you, Hermione. You know it means the world to me that you want to help."

"Stop it. It's nothing you wouldn't do for me. And it is, after all, a challenge. And you know how I like a good challenge." She smiled at him, and he relaxed. "Now, let's talk about something else, please. How have you been?"

"Fine. Good. Busy. Sirius is driving me crazy." A knowing grin.

"Mmm. I can well imagine what he has to say about the current state of affairs. Remus, do you think Harry's told Ron what we're up to?"

Remus didn't quite follow her tangent. "I don't know. I suppose he might have done, but they've not been as close lately, as you know. Why do you ask?"

"Well, because we didn't ask Ron for his help, after all. And for that matter, I know that Hooch and McGonagall--and Flitwick, and the others--would want to help. I just hope nobody is offended."

"I see your point. At the same time, it's not like we're really doing anything yet. I'm sure that if we need them, Snape will see his way clear to expand a bit."

"Mmm." Hermione was non-committal.

Remus decided to change the topic again. "So how are classes? How are the Runes going?"

"Great. I really enjoy them. And I have some of the same students in both, so that makes it easier. Though I swear, if I see one more note about Valentine's Day being passed, I'll scream."

"That will certainly get their attention," Remus chuckled, and Hermione's scowl of irritation broke into a smile. "I suppose you'll be serving as chaperone for the dance tomorrow night?"

"Oh, yes. Big plans for the big day." She rolled her eyes. "The joys of being a Hogwarts teacher."

"I suppose it's made worse by the fact that you would have something better to do, after all," he noted. Immediately he wished he hadn't brought it up. He didn't particularly want to know…

She gave him a look, not immediately understanding. "Oh," she said, surprised that she was embarrassed at the necessary admission. "No, actually, we hadn't made any plans. I guess we're just not a Valentine sort of people."

"No, I guess not," Remus said, before quickly changing the subject again.

Hermione was never so grateful that she had Fridays off. In the morning, she caught up on her grading and read through some of Severus's notes for their next meeting with Lupin. The work was promising, but they still didn't have any concrete suggestions. Just theories, and those were still more vague than either of them would have liked.

After lunch, she headed to the dungeon with Severus. He had two classes that afternoon, and she shut herself in her workroom (she still thought of it as hers, from her days at school) for the first and his office for the second. By late afternoon, she felt a little claustrophobic, and the repeated sound of deductions from all houses was becoming annoying.

After the last student had left for the day, shorn of all Valentine cheer (at least until they got back to the ground floor), Snape flung open the door and scowled at her. She raised an eyebrow, and returned to her reading. "Tea, love? There's some fresh, or at least it was twenty minutes ago."

"You know I hate that," he muttered, sinking into the chair opposite her.

"What, tea that's been in the pot for twenty minutes?"

"No, your cutting me off before I can rant and rave. And yes, tea would be grand."

She ignored the sarcasm and poured him a cup, tapping it once and murmuring the words to warm it. "I could hear your ranting and raving all afternoon. Not that I didn't enjoy it."

The corners of his lips twitched upwards before he turned his attention to his cup and saucer.

After a few moments' silence, Hermione ventured, "We're not…planning…anything for Valentine's Day, are we?"

Severus's eyes narrowed as he regarded her. "Is this a trick question?"

She giggled. "No. I mean, I didn't plan anything, what with the party tonight and all, and I didn't know…that is, I didn't think…"

"Since this isn't a trick question, then I'll say that, while the thought did cross my mind--only because I wasn't sure if you'd be expecting anything--no, I haven't planned a thing. Though I had rather hoped you'd come home with me after the dance."

A coy smile. "It has been a while since we slept in your bed. I miss it."

"Hmm. Indeed." A sip from his cup. "Although sleep wasn't necessarily what I had in mind."

Aside from the explosion of doves out of Michelle Carrington's dessert at dinner, the rest of the time before the party was thankfully quiet. At least for Hermione. Snape had to sort out something or other in the Slytherin common room (she had heard him mutter the words "pink" and "idiot" as he swept away to deal with it), so Hermione had agreed to head down to the Great Hall with Remus, when she was ready, knowing that Severus would catch up to them later.

She was simply beautiful, he thought. "Simply" was the word for it. Remus supposed that she hadn't done anything different to her hair, though the style seemed…softer, somehow…and she was wearing no more makeup than usual. Her dress was downright plain, compared to the concoctions some the students were wearing--deep red, and velvety like her dress at Christmas, but with a neckline that draped across the front of her throat only to plunge, ever so slightly, down her back. Nothing inappropriate, and incredibly elegant. He swallowed as she made her way down the stairs to meet him, and was surprised to find himself grateful to see her necklace sparkling against the rich fabric. A reminder. At this point he needed one.

Teasing, he formally offered her his arm, and she took it with a giggle. They entered the party together, and he told himself that he would never do anything to make her uncomfortable with him again. No matter how fast his heart was beating.

Remus moved to join Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, but Hermione stopped just inside the door to greet Hagrid, who was swaying to the music, a glass of punch perched in his over-sized hand.

"Hagrid! Oh, it's so good to see you."

"Och! Hermione! It's been a while since yeh came out teh visit. I've missed yeh! But you've been busy with important things, I hear tell. Still…"

"I apologize, and I'll come to see you as soon as I can. How have you been? How are classes?"

"Fine, fine. Dumbledore's a great man, yeh know, teh let me stay on with the first years. A right great man, he is, Dumbledore."

Hermione decided Hagrid had been drinking more than punch, at this point, but nodded her agreement.

"It does me 'eart good, it does, to see all those happy children. A little crush is good for 'em, I reckon. Puts color in their cheeks, distracts 'em from work. I seem teh remember that yeh had a certain glow about yeh when you had that there crush on Professor Lockhart, back in your…what was it, your third year?"

"Second." The smooth voice came from behind her, and she shut her eyes against the inevitable.

"Professor Lockhart was here in Professor Granger's second year, I believe. Is that not correct, Professor?"

Hermione began to answer, but Hagrid cut in, oblivious to the amusement on Snape's face. "Och, yer right at that. Second year. Evenin', Professor Snape, but will yeh excuse me? I need a word with Professor Sprout, and she's just now arrived."

"Of course, Hagrid. Good evening."

Hermione looked up, and winced at the smirk that tugged the corners of his mouth. "Not one word out of you, or I'll sleep in my own bed tonight," she chided.

As he passed her, he lowered his voice to the level of silk and whispered in her ear, "Oh, my dear, I wouldn't dream of it."

"Well, not such a bad score tonight, I think," McGonagall commented.

Hermione didn't follow. "Pardon?"

"Well, there's only been one attempt at spiking the punch, which Severus cut off at the pass; only two girls have left the room in tears, and no boys; and the music has remained at a tolerable level. Not such a bad score."

"Yes indeed," chuckled Flitwick. What was it, ten or eleven years ago now that we had two successful passes at the punch bowl, eight weeping students, three of them male, and a broken Audio Musicus charm?"

"More like fifteen years ago," noted Madame Hooch as she came to stand on the other side of Hermione. "Of course, I'd take all of that over the Valentine's night of the dual suicide attempts any day."

"Gods!" Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"I'll say," Hooch agreed. "At least the second one was founded in alcohol and an Unrequited Love Potion. Snape was fit to be tied."

"I can well imagine," Hermione answered.

They stood watching the students for a few moments, and then Minerva said, "You know, the music hasn't been half bad this year either. The newer stuff I'll never understand. But I simply adore those Muggle standards."

"Dumbledore has a soft spot for them as well. I'd imagine he made some…suggestions…to the students in charge?" Hooch's guess brought smiles and murmurs of agreement from the others.

It was almost midnight--the end of the dance--and Hermione's thoughts had turned to Severus's un-plans for them afterwards. She was startled out of her reverie by Dumbledore's voice: "Professor McGonagall, would you like to dance?" Minerva blushed and assented, much to the delight of Flitwick.

"You know, I always did think they'd make a lovely couple," he said, matter-of-factly.

"You're as bad as Poppy," Hooch noted tersely, but with a wink at Hermione.

It was one of her mother's favorite songs: Johnny Mathis singing "Chances Are." She had danced with her father to it on many occasions--that, along with Herb Alpert and Andy Williams--after he vacuumed the carpets every Saturday. Every Saturday without fail. And afterwards, to make sure they were done properly, he would put on a record and dance with Hermione.

The song ended, and she was brought back to the present by the sight of Snape crossing the floor. Students parted in front of him, but he didn't look angry… Then she realized…he was headed straight for her, with a look of…oh Gods…mischief.

After greeting the others, he held out his hand. "Professor Granger, would you do me the honor?"

Hermione's face felt as red as her dress, but she looked in his eyes and knew that he meant it. Her decision was already made.

"Certainly, Professor Snape. I'd be delighted."

He led her onto the floor as the first strains of the next song began.

At last my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song

"I thought you said you didn't have any plans?" she asked, as he placed his hand on her waist.

"Mmm. I assure you that this was not premeditated."

"I see," she said, still unsure of what had possessed him. Not that she minded.

At last the skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clover
The night I looked at you

"Although Madame Hooch suggested, some weeks ago, that this would be a good idea."

"Dancing with me on Valentine's Day?"

"No. A gesture that would let everybody know that we are indeed together, and indeed happy."

I found a dream, that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to rest my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known

She couldn't resist playing with him just a bit. "So you're dancing with me to make a statement?"

His eyes met hers for the first time since his request. "No, my love, I'm dancing with you because you look so delicious in that dress."

Hermione flushed. "Mmm."

You smile, you smile
And then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
For you are mine at last

"I probably should have thought this through, however," he said, with a touch of concern in his voice. Her eyes flew back to his face. "After all," he continued, steadfastly gazing over her shoulder at the passing couples (she suspected he was doing it to keep them from staring so blatantly), "this only serves to put me in mind of the last time we danced."

Now she knew her face matched her dress. They swayed together for the remainder of the song, and she managed to be slightly more composed by the time the music ended.

As Dumbledore pronounced the party to be over, Snape placed her hand in the crook of his arm, nodded a good-bye to Pomfrey, Hooch, and Sprout, and guided her towards the door, and to the dungeons beyond.

A/N: "The lady doth protest too much, methinks" comes from Hamlet. "Tea would be grand" is a nod to my sister's favorite line from Blow Dry: "Ta, lad, toast would be grand." "At Last" is sung here by the lovely Etta James; I don't have the lyricist at hand. And the vacuuming--and subsequent dancing--comes from my father. :) Also, if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm playing fast and loose with the calendar. I have no idea if V-Day was on Friday that year or not. ;)

Read the Continuation of this Scene: "At Last" (strong R for graphic sex)

Read the Continuation of this Scene: "Alone" (strong R for graphic sex)

On to Chapter 21