Hermione adjusted the hood of her cloak before entering the building. It stank of beer and piss and dodgy plans. Small groups of men sat around tables, huddled in groups and speaking in low tones.

She walked up to the bartender.

"It's semi-self-service," the middle aged, balding man told her in a bored tone. "Pick a table and write what you want in the book, then wait."

"Even if what I want is someone?" Hermione murmured.

"Especially then," the bartender said firmly. "We're a full bar so if you want something off the beaten path we probably have it."

Hermione nodded and chose a table in a dark, but fairly un-smelly corner. A small book lay on the table, a quill nearby.

Hermione wrote in the book. Then paused and wrote something else. She closed the book in a satisfied way and leaned back in her chair.

A tall glass full of dark liquid, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream appeared on the table and Hermione was delighted. She's enjoyed this drink on vacation, but had been once thrown out the Three Broomsticks for ordering it.

A figure at another table stood up and approached her. They sat down and grunted.

"Dung?" Hermione asked in a low voice.

The man's face poked out of the hood for a moment and peered at her. "Never thought I'd meet you here. Ice cream should have given it away." He grunted.

"Got a job for you," Hermione said quietly. "Something that has to be handled discreetly."

Mundungus Fletcher scratched the side of his face through his cloak's hood. "What's in it for me?"

"Finder's fee and I won't beat you to death with a chair," Hermione said, her voice said, gaining an edge to it.

"All right, all right." He held both his hands up. "Buy me a drink and you've got a deal."

"Go ahead." Hermione passed him the little book.

Soon, a mug of brown liquid appeared on the table and Mundungus squinted at it. "Why does mine look different than yours?"

"You've got fizzy drink in yours. I've got Guinness in mine." Hermione said, taking a drink from her glass.

"Sacrilege!" Mundungus squeaked. "Foul drink of the beast! Back!" He crossed himself.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic." Hermione huffed.

"Hard not to, with that thing staring you in the face." Mundungus snorted.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"So," he began curiously, "what is it you're having me find?"

"It's not a 'what' as much as a 'whom…' Hermione poked at the ice cream with her straw.

"Oh, peoples is extra," Mundungus said firmly. "On account of them fighting back."

"I'm not asking you to kidnap anyone, just find them."

"What for?" Mundungus looked suspicious. "You ain't the type of girl that normally goes looking for trouble."

"Well, I am this time." She slid an envelope out of her cloak and over the table. "Information's in there."

"And my fee—" Hermione tossed him a small pouch that jingled. He took it greedily and peered inside. His eyebrows went up in shock. "I think this is more than enough to cover everything."

Mundungus was far more discreet than Hermione gave him credit for. She had expected an owl. She never expected to have an envelope sitting on her little table when she got back from her nightly rounds.

She peered around, expecting to see him, but there was no other sign anyone else had been there.

She opened it and read quickly before crumpling it up and grabbing her cloak.

She slung her satchel over her arm before fastening her cloak around her neck. She wrapped herself in it tightly before remembering she needed to grab a handful of Floo powder. Then she realized her destination may not be the best one. She thought for a moment, trying to calm herself. She sighed deeply before throwing the powder into her fireplace: "Diagon Alley!"

She pulled the hood further over her head before she walked through the green flames and into the familiar setting of Diagon Alley. The shops around her had lit up display windows, although all the others were dark. They had closed hours ago, but she was thankful for the dim light on the empty street.

She wrapped her cloak around her and cast a repellant charm. Even if someone was headed straight for her, they would soon find a reason to walk around her or cross the street.

She made her way down the street, checking her reflection in shop windows several times and pausing for a moment to look at a display of colorful, scented quills at Flourish and Blotts.

She finally found her way to her destination; a crooked board, ripped down and nailed back up so often the wood had gone ragged, that read: Knockturn Alley.

She slipped between buildings and true darkness enveloped her.

She stood stock-still for a few moments. Knockturn Alley was a peculiar and dangerous place during the day. At night it was whispered that all sorts of rogue curses and hexes gone wrong slide from their shops and into the shadows to seep into the minds of the unsuspecting.

Hermione doubted that could happen, but what she did know was that there wasn't any law about booby-trapping an entrance with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

She waited for a few moments, her ears craning for a hint of anything, but hearing nothing out of the ordinary. She stepped forward a few paces, taking care not to trip on an overly-large cobblestone. The she listened again. Again there was nothing, so she continued until she had cleared the cloud and stepped into the dim alley.

A man was standing there, scowling at her, his face appearing even more intimidating in the dim light. He sniffed the air a few times before snorting. "Going to have to reset the blasted thing now. Good going, Granger."

Hermione scowled and cast a charm removing all smells from her clothing and person. "How did you know it was me?"

"The wife uses the same hair relaxer." Draco Malfoy shrugged before tugging on the door of Borgin & Malfoy's harder. There was a click and he set to work on all of the locks with a ring of keys and his wand. "Muggle brand."

"There's more than one witch with uncooperative hair," Hermione huffed.

"Sneaking round in the dead of night when Mundungus Fletcher was snooping around looking for Severus a few hours ago?" He made a 'tsk' sound at her. "Oh, I don't think so."

She tried not to groan. "And why would I be looking for Severus?" she asked hotly.

"Spare me," he said as he finished the last lock. "I told that filthy little man the truth. Now go get him before I end up killing him myself. He's driving me mad."

Hermione's brows knitted together, but she nodded before swooping down the street. She pulled out the crumpled bit of paper again and read the address. She stared at the space between a fruit stall (or what she hoped was a fruit stall) and an apothecary for a few moments before another door appeared.

She went through it with no trouble and began the climb up a flight of stairs that never seemed to end, her wand lighting her way. At the top there was a door, old and heavy with iron bands securing it together. She knocked on it lightly and a slot opened up.

"Whachoo want?" A gravelly voice asked her.

"Come to collect. Don't want any trouble." Hermione said honestly. She knew if she lied the door would push her to her death.

It grunted before the door swung open and she was let in.

A round house-elf sat perched on a shelf on the back of the door. It stared at her greedily. "What can we do for you?"

She handed him a galleon before asking for Snape.

It looked at the galleon as if she had tried to hand him a dead rat. A small levitating can appeared out of thin air and it disappeared as soon as Hermione had put the coin in it. The house-elf blew through a small bone whistle that hung around his neck on an ancient, worn shoelace. Another house-elf appeared, this time a thin one with beady black eyes and long-thin ears that looked like a crumpled old newspaper.

"The gold treatment for this one," the round elf grunted. The thin one looked surprised and looked at Hermione.

"If you mislead me you'll wish your mother had drowned you at birth," Hermione said coldly.

It flinched as it took the coin and Hermione felt horrible, but these elves had been given specific instructions regarding admittance, tricks, and payment for the ancient building. If they thought they could lure her to her death, they probably would, and have a fine supper of her. These were not the same sort of elves that served families, these were the sort of elves nightmares and fairy-tales originated from. At least the one on the door was, but she didn't want to take any chances.

The skinny one held its hand out to her and she took it. They disappeared with a 'pop' and reappeared in a hallway of different sorts of doors.

There were tall doors and small doors; short and fat; tall and so narrow Hermione doubted a person could pass through them; one that looked decidedly like a cat flap and an enormous one that looked as if it were made of solid gold.

The one the elf had placed them in front of was wood, carved with intricate patterns: small animals and trees and delicate lacy bits Hermione suspected were made with magic. The elf swung the door open and Hermione blinked, and then tried to hide her surprise. It opened out into a forest clearing, a small two-story cabin squatting at its edge, a ribbon of smoke coming from its chimney and a smell of potions on the air.

"Shall I wait for you outside, miss?" The elf asked her politely.

"No," Hermione said. "Thank you." She hesitated before she walked through it. "Do you ever wish for anything more?"

Its face went dreamy for a moment and it looked like any other house-elf. "Don't we all, Miss?"

She handed him a silver knut and he looked at it in wonderment, turning it over in his hands. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before reaching into her robes.

"Here," she said, her voice a whisper. "You hide it from that other one. I command it."

The elf looked scared, but his eyes went wide and round when she handed him a small slip of parchment and walked through the door. It shut behind her and when she turned around she wasn't surprised to see it had gone.

She began the short march to the cabin, her eyes reaching up to the cold sky. Snow was beginning to fall.

She knocked on the door to the cabin and everything went dark. She took a step back and saw that even the smoke had stopped. She pushed on the door and it swung open to an empty room, thinly shrouded in a fine layer of dust.

"I know you're here, you idiot," Hermione declared to the room. "Thought this might be enlightening." She dropped her satchel onto a low table with a loud 'thump.' She could have sworn the table groaned. She ignored it.

"I don't care what you decide, just come back to work. The castle is altogether too cheerful a place without you."

She marched out of the cabin and back into the clearing, unsurprised when the door slammed shut and locked behind her.

She lifted her wand and Apparated.

"So what did you do?" Sinistra asked.

"I left it there." Hermione shrugged. "What else could I do?"

"I'm still not entirely sure what's going on." Flitwick sipped at his mug of tea. "How familiar are we talking about?"

"Familiar enough that not much talking was involved." Sinistra waved him off as he choked.

"Gracious, that is familiar!" Flitwick let out a sound like a strangled chuckle.

Hermione turned red. "What if he thinks it's a hoax?" Hermione asked. "The whole thing is just so embarrassing!"

"Well, it's embarrassing for him, too, you know," Flitwick said as he dabbed at his beard with a napkin. "That man just doesn't let people get close to him."

Sinistra started giggling again, but Hermione just rolled her eyes.

There was a scratch at the window and they turned to see a dirty old pigeon perched on the sill, an envelope laying nearby.

"Pigeon?" Flitwick exclaimed as Hermione let it in. It immediately swooped in and landed on the table, surveying the food and pecking at a sandwich. "What? Shoo!" Flitwick squeaked, waving his hands at the bird, who cooed rudely at the small wizard and made to peck at him.

Hermione gasped at the letter she had begun reading and pulled her wand out quickly. She waved it and the pigeon turned into Mundungus Fletcher, who toppled backwards off the table with an enormous 'CRASH!'

Sinistra swore as he upset the tea service, wobbly getting to his feet. He pointed a finger at Hermione. "Next time I'm asking for hazard pay!"

"I paid you plenty." Hermione scowled. "Shut up and eat a sandwich."

He pulled out a stubby, worn-down wand and waved it to clean the mess he had made, thinking to conjure a small cluster of wildflowers to hand so Sinistra as he tipped his hat at her.

"Oh, all right," Sinistra sighed as she took them. "Have a seat, you little beggar."

Mundungus happily pulled up a stool, making him much shorter than everyone else at the table, but he seemed to like having his food at eye-level. He stacked two halves of a sandwich and took an enormous bite.

"Great heavens, man." Flitwick chuckled. "We're not going to take it away!"

"Never can tell," Mundungus mumbled from around a mouthful of food. "Better safe than sorry."

"Hermione?" Sinistra said in a concerned voice, causing everyone to quiet down. "Are you all right?"

"He's going to meet me." Hermione's voice was a squeak. "To talk about the situation."

"What situation?" Mundungus asked, but Flitwick hushed him.

"When?" Sinistra asked.

"Tonight." Hermione swallowed. "After dinner."

"Where is he meeting you?" Flitwick frowned.

"I have no idea." Hermione shrugged. "There's a coin wrapped in a slip of paper in here. This letter says it's a portkey."

"Well," Sinistra said after a moment. "This is what you've been waiting for."

"I know," Hermione admitted.

"So what are you going to do?" Flitwick asked.

"What else can I do?" Hermione folded the letter back up. "I just want to get it over with."

"Get what over with?" Mundungus asked curiously.

"All right, that's enough of you! Out!" Sinistra prodded him with her wand.

"See what I mean?" Mundungus cried out at Flitwick as he was pushed towards the door. "It's my right to know! It got me transfigured into a pigeon by a madman!"

Sinistra closed the door behind him and Hermione was sure he huffed for a few moments before making his way down the stairs of Astronomy Tower.

Sinistra returned to the table and sit down primly. "Whatever you do, dear, make sure it's soon. There's talk of Hagrid filling in as part of the substitute rotation."

Hermione knocked over her tea in alarm, flooding the table and taking away a biscuit. "I'll tie him up and drag him back if I have to."

"He might like that," Sinistra said with a twinkle in her eye.

The evening came faster than Hermione had expected and Sinistra and Flitwick couldn't help noticing the speed at which Hermione scarfed down her meal and fled the Hall. They laughed and waved merrily at her as her cloak flapped as she turned the corner.

She hurried to her room, waving her wand as she went. Her robes were cleaned and freshened, her hair braided, her shoes polished.

By the time she got to her room she was practically hyperventilating. Her eyes went to her clock and she let out a breath. Twenty minutes.

She cast about the room for a moment, looking for something to do. She ended up sitting in a chair and watching the time pass by. She had enough going on in her head to occupy herself without becoming bored.

She watched the hands of the clock creep across its face, tried to breathe in time with it's ticking, but didn't quite seem to make it work.

The time finally came and Hermione found herself staring at the envelope instead of picking it up. She watched a minute tick by on her clock, then another. A couple more passed before she seized the envelope and poured the paper-wrapped coin into her hand.

She stared at it for a moment before she began carefully unfolding the paper. She swallowed as she looked at it, sitting innocuously on the paper resting in her palm.

She scowled at herself before taking a deep breath and curling her fingers around the coin.

To her surprise, she found herself in front of the small cabin in the woods.

She looked both ways, hoping the house-elves that kept the building of rooms wouldn't be angry at her for circumnavigating them.

The windows in the cabin were lit. Smoke curled from the chimney, this time a meaty, spicy smell that made her think of her grandmother.

She approached the cabin and the windows didn't go dark. He could always change his mind, of course. The windows could fall dark, the chimney smoke cut off as easily as a man capping his pipe. It would make things easier, at least outwardly.

Hermione grappled with the idea of a pulled-out-of-retirement Hagrid fumbling his way through a potions class. She shivered.

When she got to the door she hesitated. There was no noise from the interior of the cabin, but that might have been charmed against sound. Or he could just be quiet. She lay her hand on the door, putting an imprint in the snow the wind had caked to the door. She felt something under her fingertips and began brushing the snow away to reveal a paw-print, nearly as big as a man's hand.

She stared at it for a moment before glancing sideways at a window. The curtains were closed, as usual, but the light they cast on the snow betrayed them. A sliver of light lay there and Hermione found herself walking away from the door to peer into the window.

A cauldron was bubbling on the fire. He was there: reading a label on a bottle of wine and frowning. He looked to a cabinet and back to the bottle. He made to put it down, but stopped halfway and carried it over to the cabinet. The book lay on the small table she had dropped it on. She blinked in surprise. It hadn't been him after all. Then where had the groan—

She stopped herself and forced herself to march back to the door. She knocked on it before she had time to think it over.

There was a sound of glass breaking and a loud swear and she had to bite her lips. After a moment the door swung open.

He stiffened at the sight of her, but she walked in anyway.

"So." Hermione said awkwardly.

He grunted at her.

She felt her cheeks burn. She felt so many things, guilt among them, she didn't know where to begin.

"I apologize for any impropriety that has happened between us," he said sharply. "But I think—"

"I think I'm to blame as well," Hermione interrupted him. "Even more so. I'm so sorry. If you want to press charges—"

He barked out a laugh.

"I'm serious!" Hermione began to grow angry.

"For what? Pulling my zipper down while I was wagging a great thick one in your face?" His eyes burned with anger.

"Among other things," Hermione couldn't help interjecting. Her eyes flickered to his beltline and then avoided him. Her cheeks burned.

All was quiet for a moment.

"Other things," he echoed. "And what would those be?"

Hermione knew there were two very clear roads in front of her: arguing over there the guilt lay, each of them insisting it lay within themselves; or refreshing his memory.

She returned his icy stare. "If you don't remember, perhaps something has finally snapped in that brain of yours." She smirked in spite of herself.

His eyes registered it and his eyebrows twitched, but he regained composure quickly. "Oh, really." He pulled his robes away from him, something unexpected straining at the front of her trousers.

Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment. She bit her bottom lip and tried to recover.

"Does this look like I don't remember?" His face was stony, but his eyes roamed all over her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you remember," Hermione said coolly.

"I'm sure you do." His fingertips began to trace over the front of his pants. Pants that were getting tighter by the moment.

She took a step towards him and cocked an eyebrow. "The book claims all the people the Room creates are non-corporeal."

"Your hand would go right through them," he added, taking his hand away from his trousers and leaning back, giving her an even better view.

"Quite an amusing trick," Hermione added. "The archives said it was to keep people honest."

"I'm not sure there's anything honest about the Room of Requirement." He stepped closer to her. She could feel his body heat and her body responded violently, muscles contracting and forcing her hips forward, just a bit.

But enough for him to notice. He smirked at her.

"Back before people got around as much it could prove valuable to be able to see someone in the flesh, even if you couldn't touch them. Good for identifying people." Hermione pointed out.

"Not so honest when you use it to strip down prospective matrimonial pairings so you may judge them before marriage." He pushed his hips forward, just enough that he brushed against her.

"Better than a nasty surprise," Hermione said, forcing the words out.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. He pushed against her bottom and she forced back a groan. He put his hands on her hips and began kissing the back of her neck.

"Finding out you're not compatable after a trek across the continent is enough to put a damper on anyone's mood." He sounded like he was panting.

"It's like a three-dimensional photograph. Look, but don't touch." Hermione began drawing up her robes and moving forward so she was standing against the back of the couch. She held onto it for support as he bunched her robes around her waist and undid his trousers.

"But touching is so much fun," he said, fighting back the urge to lose control.

She spun around to face him, popping her bottom up on the back of the couch and encircling him with her legs. She pulled his head close to her and she whispered in his ear. "So is finding out one of your collegues is a slutty little bit of fuck."

He began coving her neck and shoulder with kisses. He ground into her and she grabbed at his robes fiercely.

"Beg for it," she ordered him.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease," he whispered.

She pulled back and gave him a coy look. "Why Professor, you act like you know what I'll like!" She gave him a challenging look.

"I'll give you what you like, you little whore," Severus ground out between his teeth as he pushed forward.

This time she allowed herself to buck up to meet him and he groaned at her movements, all sense of propriety gone as he gave her a look she'd never seen before. At least, not on him.

His fingers ripped open the front of her robes and he ran his hand over her gently. She looked up at him and their eyes met. She watched his face contort as he shuddered and jerked before she leaned up to kiss him.

It was odd, with all that had been going on, that they had never kissed before, but now they had and there it was. And it had made Severus Snape blush like a schoolboy. She did it again and this time he returned it, a bit awkwardly, but it was mutual.

She slid off the back of the couch, her feet landing lightly on the floor. Pushing her robes back down and enjoying the sight of him.

He waved his wand to clean himself off and tucked himself away, making Hermione scowl. "I'm a bit rusty."

Hermione quirked a corner of her mouth at him. "Me too."

"I—err- have a bit of curry on the fire," Severus offered.

"And wine to go with it," Hermione grinned.

"I—yes. Yes, I do," Severus said, a bit flustered. "And something else."

"What?" Hermione perked up.

"I feel somewhat foolish," he confessed. "I finished the recording a few days ago. It was for a cousin. I thought you might like a copy."

"I would love a copy," Hermione said honestly. "Not as distracting as a live show, no threat of killing myself sneaking around the dungeons."

Severus groaned. "I should have known it was you. Bloody house-elves were ready to kill themselves rather than give you up."

"Well, it's not like you were going to let me sit in," Hermione complained. "And it was the only thing that kept me from going mad."

"I thought your acclimation to the castle was finally beginning," Severus said as he went to the fireplace. He waved his wand and the pot unhooked itself and began floating towards the low table.

"It did after I found you," Hermione shrugged. "You know how much I hate drinking potions for every little thing."

"So you went to spying?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "That wouldn't have been my choice."

"I—I couldn't help it." She hated admitting weakness. "When I was little and it was storming my grandfather would always play me Peter and the Wolf on the old record player…it had just been so long since I'd gotten a decent night's sleep."

"Having an upheaval in your sleep patterns isn't unusual for someone going through a life change," Severus said slowly, as if he were testing the waters about her life before she became a live-in professor.

"I slept in the Room," Hermione said quietly. "Did you get to that part of the book?"

"You aren't the only one who slept in that room," Severus muttered.

She was caught off balance and ended up giving him a strange look.

"You first," he prompted her.

"I saw Ron. He told me not to feel guilty. It helped a lot." Hermione decided it was best to leave out the part about Hugo's expression.

"I saw—" a look of pain crossed his face. He shook his head.

Hermione quirked a corner of her mouth and shook her head. "Redheads." She shrugged. "What can you do?"

He choked out a laugh as if he was unused to the action. "Indeed."

"So." She took a deep breath. "In all seriousness. Come back to Hogwarts. They're threatening to give a few classes to Hagrid."

"That oaf in my potion stores?" He had a look of utter dismay on his face.

"Even if you're only coming back to teach, for the love of Merlin, do it." Hermione folded her hands and pleaded with him.

His breath caught in his throat and he looked at the ripped front of Hermione's robes. He unfolded the fabric and ran his hand over her bare skin. "Beg."

"Please."

Her fingers rested gently on the bulge in his trousers before she smirked at him and began working at the fastenings.

Six Months Later

"That book was priceless!" Flitwick squeaked as they rounded a corner in one of the many halls of Hogwarts..

"Well, we got it back together and that's what's important!" Sinistra said, hushing him as they passed a group of fourth years. "No one has to know."

"I'd say Pince is going to notice the minute she opens the damned thing and notices how much is missing. Pages don't disintegrate overnight, you know," he said grouchily. "Next time practice on something less historically significant."

"Fine," she said hotly. "As soon as you stop putting sticky fingerprints all over my star charts!"

They paused in the hall at the sound of shouting.

"Well, I hear they've started the faculty meeting without us." Flitwick shook his head.

"You'd think they'd tone it down a bit now that they're an item." Sinistra winced at the sound of a fist pounding on a table.

Flitwick snorted. "I think it's their species' form of foreplay."

"Got his stag night planned?" she asked as they turned around and began to walk as far away from the faculty meeting as they could.

"He's refusing to call it that." Flitwick chuckled

"Oh, for pity sake!" Sinistra groaned as they headed out a doorway and out into the open air. "Still?"

"Always," Flitwick said cheerfully. "We're calling it python night."

"Makes sense, considering what he's smuggling in his pants." Sinistra giggled.

"I didn't need to hear that!" The small man stuffed his fingers into his ears. He stopped to grab a handful of wildflowers as they passed, tucking most of them into the small pouch he kept at his belt for herbs and handing Sinistra a pink one.

"Oh, my favorite!" She oohed and aahed before she tucked it into her belt.

They walked for a few moments more before they rounded the castle and approached the Quiddith pitch.

"Ever thought of using the Room for yourself?" Flitwick asked suddenly.

"What? Me?" Sinistra giggled.

"Not for that!" Flitwick exclaimed. "Just, you know, to find out who you're compatible with. You don't have to make it dirty."

"Oh, I don't know." She looked at him skeptically. "I'm doing well now. I'm a bit too old to be running around like a lovesick hen."

"Sometimes you're a lot younger than you think you are." Flitwick offered her another bloom, an action that, this time, made her blush.

"You know," she said tentatively, "you might be right about that." She thought for a moment before shyly accepting the flower. They looked at each other for a moment before they continued their turn around the grounds.

The End