HAIR

Inspired by the WIKTT auction challenge.

Harry and Ron pooled their money. Ron nudged him.

"Come on, you have stacks of galleons!"

Harry pushed him back. "I don't think I'm supposed to spend it on this, though. Sirius said Mum and Dad's money has to last me until I start work."

"So, that's only next month. C'mon, we have to buy something!"

The bane of Ron's life was that he never had enough money to afford what he really wanted. He hated relying on Harry for cash, but as the Weasley's had unexpectedly added to their brood, even pocket money was in short supply. What had ever possessed his parents to be at that sort of thing at their age? His second youngest sister, Louisa, was due to start at Tuppence, the local wizard pre-school, and the baby, Harriet, was just walking. She was named after Harry. It was a popular name the year Harry defeated Voldemort.

Britney, a fellow Gryffindor, nudged Ron.

"I'll chip in if you want."

He and Harry exchanged glances, and shrugged. It would all help.

Britney put up her hand. "Twenty galleons!" she shouted.

All over England, Muggle and wizarding parents alike wondered why their off-spring wanted extra money this term.

Madam Hooch stood in front of the school, her arms folded. "Well," she said. "What are you waiting for? I'm worth more than twenty galleons. Five free Quidditch lessons. Think about it."

"Thirty!" called Colin Creevey, ever hopeful that even in 6th year, he might still be chosen for a team.

"Forty!" Ron shouted.

There were no more bids.

"Sold!" said Professor Dumbledore, banging a gavel bought from Weasley Wizard Wheezes. It turned into a Barbie doll. He banged Barbie on the table. "Sold to the Potter group for forty galleons. Enjoy those Quidditch lessons."

"Could be worse," Hooch muttered, as she made her way off the auction block(an old beheading block from the dungeons, dressed up in crepe paper for the occasion), shooting a glance at Colin.

No one saw her fire a small spell with her wand, from under her arm. Colin wailed. Hooch turned, immediately concerned.

"Oh, dear, dear, dear, a broken wrist. Tch, straight off to Madam Pomfrey with you."

Colin left the Great Hall, weeping. How could he be just standing there, and his wrist break? His bag of galleons wasn't that heavy, surely.

Hooch presented front and centre to Harry, Ron and Britney. Britney giggled.

"Oops," she said. "I did it again. I forgot my money." She fluttered her eyes and boobs at Ron.

Ron turned bright red, a dull colour that didn't match his hair at all.

Harry sighed. "I'll cough up, but you'll have to owe me," he said.

Britney nodded. She nodded at everything. Harry could suddenly see a resemblance between her and Dumbledore's transfigured gavel.

"Sure, just remind me tomorrow."

Harry knew that tomorrow she would have forgotten. She was just like that boy from Slytherin, whatever his name was….. Mulder. Loaned money, books, parchment, and then denied all knowledge.

"No time like the present," Hooch said briskly, urging her three 'owners' from the room. "I don't want to see any more of this stupidity." She gestured around the room.

Hogwarts' students were gathered in the Great Hall. The tables and chairs were gone. The students milled around in groups. On the dais above the hall sat the teachers, most in their usual spots. On the wall behind them was a flashing banner: "Hogwarts' Restitution Fund: Teacher Auction".

Some of Hogwarts had been laid waste during the war years with Voldemort. Dumbledore was adamant that the Cedric Diggory Research Facility be built on the grounds where the south tower once stood. Magic could only do so much. Hogwarts needed good, honest labourers. If they couldn't be found, some nice, reasonably honest ones who knocked off early and took half an hour for morning smoko were to be found.

First, parents and past students had been asked to contribute. Then, the teachers all gave a series of lectures around the wizarding world, to which one had to pay to attend. Then there were the sponsored broomstick races, the chocolate frog drive, and the cake stall. Dumbledore said no to some suggestions. Hagrid was disappointed. He wouldn't have minded wrestling all comers. Nor was the headmaster keen on the illegal owl fighting, laying huge sums of money on a dragon called Glue Factory, or two-up.

When he suggested the Teacher Auction, he had many responses. Roars of laughter from Sinistra, Flitwick and Binns. A giggle from Trelawney. Macgonagall groaned. A one-finger gesture from Snape.

"Wonderful. I shall arrange flyers immediately," Dumbledore said.

Tiny owls surfed the winds around the school, bearing news of the forthcoming auction. Students started pooling their money. Draco Malfoy simply flashed around his Wizard Express card.

He was doing it again now.

"Fifty galleons!"

Professor Sinistra turned around and made urging hand gestures at her fellow teachers. "Someone buy me, for Hecate's sake!" she hissed. "I'm not being bought by him."

Sinistra was by far the prettiest of the teachers, and many of the upper school boys enjoyed Astronomy lessons because it meant Sinistra standing above them, fiddling with the large fixed telescope. It meant being able to see up Sinistra's robes. She wore black boots, and short-ish skirts. They lived in hope.

The teachers stared back at her blankly. They'd all taken a pay cut during the war years. No money to spare for rescues.

Malfoy outbid a contingent from Ravenclaw. Sinistra dragged herself off the auction block and down to the grinning 7th year. He flipped his blond hair back.

"Well, what's it to be?" she asked. "Astronomy lessons? Being let off your final assignments for this term?"

Malfoy leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Sinistra flinched. She shook her head. Malfoy, ever so gently, dragged his Wizard Express card across her hand. She whispered back to him.

"I can't hear you," Malfoy said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Great speaking voice. Toastwizards during the school holidays.

"Garter belt, okay!" Sinistra said. "I wear a garter belt and stockings. Blue on Mondays and Thursdays, green on Tuesday and Wednesday, yellow on Friday, and black for weekends. Are you happy? And yes, they all have little stars on them." Her face was flaming against her long dark hair.

Malfoy whispered again. Sinistra shot Dumbledore a filthy look and followed Malfoy out of the Hall.

"Bet anything he wants to see," said Lavender Brown, as she and Parvati ferried Trelawney, their own purchase, out of the room. Time for some in-depth Divination. "He's kinky that way. Never wants to do anything. Just look and sniff."

Hermione Granger wondered how Lavender knew.

Hermione sighed and folded her arms. Her purse was heavy with galleons, earned from tutoring the Britneys and Ozzies of Hogwarts, but she saw no need to participate in this debacle. Look at that over there. A gaggle of lovesick 4th year girls had bought Professor Flitwick and were pressing him for information about love charms. Harry and Ron had left to pursue Quidditch, and no doubt Britney had gone along to pursue Harry. In a far corner, Hagrid had gathered a large group together. They'd bid for him, got him, and how he was taking them into the Dark Forest in search of unicorns.

One by one the teachers stood on the auction block, and were bought by students. Some wanted answers to assignments. A very grateful Colin Creevey bought Madam Pomfrey and had her bandage his every scrape and cut. It would be a long night for Pomfrey.

Finally, Professor Binns was auctioned off to Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, and Skewered Screaming Sally, a ghost from the Hufflepuff dormitory. They wanted a fourth for bridge, and paid with piles of slimy money, trawled from the bottom of the lake.

"And last, but certainly not least, we have Professor Snape," Dumbledore said.

No movement from Snape.

"Come along Severus. Just think of the potions you can brew in the research facility."

Snape rose and took the block, looking like he was thinking that the first thing he brewed would be a headmaster poison. He glared at the student body. People were all ready making for the doors. From the students remaining, there was a cricket-chirping silence.

"What am I bid for our Potions Master?" Dumbledore asked, waving Barbie around.

Owls could be heard hooting all the way out at the owlery.

"I'm sure he could be quite handy." Even Dumbledore was stumbling over his words. "He could brew tea, and….er….coffee….and he does a good line in cleaning products."

"You're making it sound like I sell Amway!" Snape growled.

Several students tripped over, suddenly covered with soap powder. There were the Unforgiveable curses, and then there were the Unmentionables. Several Muggle words had unfortunate results in the wizarding world. No one wanted to ever say 'Microsoft'.

Dumbledore continued unabated. "A Potions Master of your very own. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

Hermione heard Neville's stomach rumble fifty metres away. She couldn't stand this any longer. She knew how others saw her. Brainiac. Smart arse. She strongly suspected if the students were auctioned, she'd be standing alone on the block.

"Twenty galleons!" she shouted.

"Sold!" There was relief in Dumbledore's voice.

Money flew from her purse and chinked into the sizeable pile at Dumbledore's feet. Dumbledore spelled the money to his office, and the Great Hall back to normal. The auction block disappeared with a pop. Dumbledore kept the Barbie doll. He rather liked it. Much better grip than his wand.

The room emptied of rubber necking and heckling students. Snape made his leisurely way to Hermione's side. She had grown into a tall young woman, still with a mile of bushy hair, but even with that added height, Snape still topped her by four inches. He stood staring at her. She fidgeted under his gaze. The silence lengthened. Someone had to break.

"Thankyou would be nice," Hermione blurted.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Buying you."

"Thankyou for participating in a humiliating experience that will only encourage our headmaster to repeat it next year. If I hadn't sold, it would not have been a total success and Dumbledore would have thought twice. Thankyou so much, Miss Granger."

"I thought I rescued you. No one else wanted you." She'd folded her arms in her I-Know-I'm-Right stance.

"And you did?"

"I…"

He didn't wait for her answer. "You have me. I believe the terms of contract say six hours."

Impulse buy. He wouldn't go with her décor, wouldn't even fit in her wardrobe. What the hell was she going to do with him? She knew her N.E.W.T.s were in the bag. Only the official results to wait on now, and then to see which college she was accepted into. It was beneath her to pick up her old Divination books and see what she would.

She had no need of tutoring, and could brew her own toilet cleanser.

Snape waited, watching her.

"Tell me about Voldemort," she said. "Why did you become a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Why do you hate Harry?"

Snape's turn to fold his arms. The Five-Billion-Points-From-Gryffindor look, combined with Put-Your-Hand-Down-You-Silly-Girl. Nearly lethal.

Hermione tried again. "Why do you always dress in black?"

Snape blinked. Not what he'd obviously expected.

"Must we stand here?"

They couldn't go to any of the common rooms. No Gryffindors in the Slytherin rooms, and vice versa. The Great Hall was busy rearranging itself for breakfast the next morning. The classrooms were locked for the evening. Hermione had no private quarters of her own.

Snape turned on his heel. Hermione presumed she was to follow. He led her down into the dungeons to his own rooms. He gestured to a spartan wood chair in his sitting room, and settled himself in an armchair. He set a large timer going. Six hours to the second.

Hermione made herself as comfortable as possible. It wasn't. Straight back, flat seat, and a knot hole that blinked at her before she sat on it.

"Well," she prompted. "Why the black? Oh, and Dumbledore said something about tea."

Snape conjured a cup of tea into her hand. He didn't ask how she liked it. It was black, scalding, unsweetened. Hermione raised her own wand and added milk and honey.

Snape cupped a mug of black tea in his hands. "Black is practical."

Hermione had all but finished at Hogwarts. There was only the term to see out. While younger students were sweating over their exams, the 7th years had finished, and were men and women waiting to begin the rest of their lives. Hermione felt, right now, that if she didn't be daring, the rest of her life would be a clone of the past seven years. She'd helped Harry defeat Voldemort. She relied on books and cleverness. She tutored students. She knew the library better than she knew the lines on her own hands.

Her Mount of Venus was plump and ripe, and she had never noticed it before.

"I read that brown is the new black," she ventured.

Snape snorted into his tea. "I didn't take you for a girl who read Miss Speers' magazines." He gestured to the desk that dominated the room. Parchment rolls were stacked seven deep, and there was a pile of confiscated items. Four issues of New Witch. 'How to win your wizard's heart', 'Is he an animal in bed: Our Animagus Special', 'Aphrodite in the bedroom, Hestia in the kitchen, Athena at work - how to have it all'.

Hermione licked her lips. She touched her wand and spelled a good dose of brandy into her tea.

"I didn't take you for a wizard who read them, either."

Oh look, she'd made a joke. Well, not a whole joke. More a joke-ette. Come on, Hermione, go for the full monty.

"Or maybe you read Playwizard?"

Snape's hand twitched. "I think this ludicrous situation can be terminated now, Miss Granger. If you wish, I will pay you twenty galleons and we can be done with this."

He rose, and Hermione stumbled to her feet. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean….I-"

"I have no patience with stupid questions. Every year it is the same. Seventh year students think that once the NEWTs are over, they can be friends with the staff." He tapped his wand and the voices of past students rolled out on the air.

Can I call you Severus?

So what is worn under your robes, Professor, or is it all in perfect working order?

You must be human, Professor Snape. Tell us, do you read Playwizard? Dungeon?

Do you have a girlfriend?

I think I love you, Professor.

Hermione held up her hand, and Snape stopped the litany.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by what I said. I don't know….how to talk to you."

Snape flicked his head back to get his hair out of his eyes. "Why would you wish to talk to me?"

Hermione felt the brandy moving through her. "Company."

Snape stared at her. No doubt witchlight had been kindled around the Quidditch pitch and her friends were playing until dawn. Younger students had retired to study, and the rest of the 7th years were off celebrating the end of the NEWTs,. But study was all Hermione had. When Ron and Harry were too busy, there had been the comfort of a book.

She'd read most of the library.

Snape also.

Abruptly, he gestured her back into her chair. They both sat. He broke the silence.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I read Playwizard. But only for the Potions articles."

Hermione giggled. Bloody brandy.

Snape spoke again. "Since we are asking personal questions, and this appears to be a conversation, why don't you ever do something about your hair?"

Half an hour later found them in the Potions laboratory, brewing a pleasant-smelling Follicle Tamer.

"Are you sure this will work?" Hermione asked, poking at the contents of the cauldron.

"I am the Potions Master." Snape tested the potion for viscosity. "It's ready."

"What do I do?"

"Put it on your hair, you silly girl."

Hermione was glad she didn't have to drink it. Otter oil, yuck. She released her hair from the practical hair band that made a pathetic attempt at containing it.

"This is much more effective than any spell," Snape said.

Hermione dabbed at her hair with the potion.

"No." Snape took over and gobbed masses of the stuff onto her head. "You have to massage it in to your scalp." His fingers were long and bony and dug into her head.

Hermione felt the potion seeping into her. More, she felt Snape's hands on her head, pulling her hair back and forth, sliding his slimed fingers upwards, and down again. When he reached her hairline, she shivered. He slowed his movements, moved up again through her hair. He applied more potion with one hand, and took a gulp of his tea with the other hand. She suspected he had long ago replaced the tea with something stronger. If his breath was anything to go by, whisky.

Hermione closed her eyes.

"Can you feel it soaking in?" Snape asked.

She didn't want him to stop touching her hair. "Not really."

He sighed and continued his ministrations, combing his hands through tangles.

"You'd make a fantastic hairdresser," Hermione said, half in Dreamland.

Snape pulled on her hair, not hard. "Are you enjoying this?" he accused. He pulled her head back until she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Yes."

He let go. "This is meant to be medicinal, Miss Granger. Has the potion soaked in."

Hermione cleared her throat. An analytical, technical "Yes". Then "May I have the rest in a vial? In case I have to use it again."
"One application should be sufficient."

"But it might not be." She took a swig of her own tea, which she had transfigured to pure brandy.

"One application."

"It might wear off."

"The potion does not keep in any case."

Hermione twisted around and grabbed his hands. "I just want it , okay?"

Snape pulled his hands away and went to wash them. "Explain."

His back was turned. Hermione dipped one hand into the cauldron. This would solve her other 'little' problem. Frizzy head hair, ergo….. Quick, before he turned around again. She scooped her hand under her robes and up beneath her skirt. If she could just get her other hand to pull her knickers aside…… Once she hit puberty, she'd leafed through copies of Playwizard, and Dungeon, trying to find a witch who looked like her. But they were all plucked and shaved. No one sported such a wild, luxuriant growth of pubic hair. Enough to be an embarrassment in the Flying Lessons change rooms.

He still had his back turned. She just had to rub her hand over her pubis, and-

"Miss Granger, what are you doing?"

Shit. Not just cow shit, or horse shit. This was giant, fat dragon shit.

"I-"

"That is not meant as a lubricant." Was that a hint of smirk on his face, just on one side? "The otter oil can irritate delicate….tissue."

Hermione was starting to see what he meant. Her crotch was warm, getting warmer.

Snape spelled cold water into a nearby cauldron, and added several vials from his stores. "Get in."

Hermione had one leg over the cauldron. Building heat, move fast.

"It might help if you stripped," Snape said.

Hermione didn't argue. Her genitals seared. She pulled off her clothes and climbed in. The burning ceased. Then she had the grace to blush. Snape was staring at her unashamedly. He shifted uncomfortably and winced.

"If you will excuse me, Miss Granger." He made to turn away.

She grabbed at his hand. "What's wrong?" She stifled back a choking sob. Pansy Parkinson had once told her she was too ugly to go about naked. Was it the truth after all?

"Leave me!" His spare hand rubbed his crotch.

Oh. Revulsion wasn't the problem.

If not now, when, Hermione?

She pulled his hand into the water and he sank in up to the elbow, soaking his robe sleeve.

Be brave, Hermione. In seven years, no other opportunity had presented itself.

She placed his hand on her pubis. "What should I use down here, then?"

"No! I can't!"

"It's okay. I'm eighteen. I'm nearly graduated. I won't tell."

He scrunched his fingers so as not to touch her. "Do you not understand, Miss Granger? I can't!"

He dragged her hand out of the water and placed it on him. At the base of his erection was something hard, ungiving.

"Enspelled," he said shortly. "I cannot…..until a witch unspells it."

"Who did this?"

"Sinistra and Hooch." He flipped his hair out of his eyes. "My reputation preceeded me. They made sure I couldn't administer any attention to them."

Hermione was stunned. "Your reputation?"

Snape sneered. "Believe it or not, I was once a ladies' man. Iwas the lover of Sinistra's predecessor. I finished with her, and she told Hooch. When Sinistra arrived, she and Hooch ambushed me, forced this onto me. Their idea of a joke, and to protect themselves. I can do nothing until a witch who wants me for myself unspells it." His look dared her to laugh.

She thought of all the times he'd called her a stupid girl, shouted at her, deducted house points, made her drink her own potion. She could laugh and it would serve him right.

Instead, she said "Hand me my wand."

He was startled. "You want me?"

She pulled his hand back into the water and let him feel her erect nipples.

"I want you."
"It has to be just for me, not anything I can do for you."

"I will do well on my NEWTs. I'm assured a place at a university. What could you do for me?"

She grasped her wand and recited a releasing spell. The cock ring fell away. Snape breathed out hard.

"Ten years," he whispered.

Hermione let him pull her out of the cauldron. She was wet, but he didn't care. He lowered his face to hers and they tasted brandy and whisky on each other. Her crotch was warm again, but this time it was Snape's fingers heating her, pushing through her creases again and again, pulling on her labia.

"I won't be gentle," he said against her mouth.

"I don't want gentle. I want-" She wanted to say many things, but his tongue invaded her mouth, stoppered the words. He pushed her to the floor of the laboratory and shucked clothes quickly. He was on her before she had time to look at his body.

He penetrated her first with his fingers, one, two, three, and then pushed himself into her. She waited for her hymen to break, and when it didn't, he spared a glance at her. She shrugged under him.

"Lot of broomstick riding, I guess," she said.

Another half smirk from him, as he turned his attention to her breasts, and then to creating a rhythm between them. He wasn't gentle, and it was true, she didn't want that.

After she came, she knew what it was she wanted. Life. With all its sweat, and complications. She wanted to have secrets. She wanted confusion, doubt, and all her bones ringing with pleasure.

Snape came quickly,and slid off her. She ached pleasantly. She ran a hand down his chest to his cock.

"More," she said.

A two-sided grin. "In a few minutes. It has been a while."

She touched his face. "You're smiling. You never smile."

"I've been in a bad mood for ten years." He traced circles around her breasts with one pale finger. He shifted slightly, glanced down at the red patches on his knees. "Can we move to somewhere more comfortable?"

He stood and pulled Hermione to her feet. As they passed out of the lab and into Snape's quarters behind, Hermione noticed him turn the timer over so that the sand started running through the narrow funnel again.

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