Pearl Button

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this. Huge thank you to my beta AmyLouise for editing.

The Bolazams Apothecary was an old and well-respected company. Five decades ago, when they opened their first potions laboratory, a strong team of potion-makers made the company a success. They were the key that had earned and secured the company the highest rating on the potions market for the past thirty years. Unfortunately, over the last few years The Bolazams Apothecary had lost too many of their precious members—some due to age, some due to war and illnesses. In other words, the company was rapidly slipping into nothingness and was hence in great need of, (or simply) desperate even, for fresh, young and brilliant minds. Thus, Bolazams Apothecary found and hired the legendary Severus Snape as an independent adviser. He had all the skills they needed—he was a brilliant potions maker, a well-known, respected wizard, and he had acquired a unique store of knowledge about all the noteworthy Potions masters and their apprentices around the world.

His objective was straightforward—to choose and create a new team. He needed to find a group of enthusiastic young people, highly competent in Potions, and make a team out of them. Before long, there were hundreds of curriculum vitae to rake through. It was nothing for Severus Snape; as a former professor, he was used to piles of paper. Soon, twenty-five of the best candidates were chosen—five of them would be hired, and one out of those five would be named team leader. Severus and Severus alone would make this decision, as per the conditions of his contract. Severus had made it crystal clear that he would not tolerate any form of intervention or pressure from the company's management. From their side, the board of directors insisted on being present during the interviews and vowed, in return, not to interfere with the process. Agreement was reached, and the interviewing of the candidates began.

It was December 15, the fifth day of the interviews. By now, Severus had a fair idea of who he would recommend be hired. He had all four candidates ready. The only position left was the team leader. Sure enough, the professor had a plan—Hermione Granger. She was his secret trump card. Severus purposefully left her till last in the array of candidates.

And here she was—standing at the threshold with a brilliant smile on her lovely (where did this nonsense come from?) face.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," uttered Severus in his customary snarky manner, looking down his nose at the young witch.

"Good afternoon, Professor. What a delightful surprise!" exclaimed Hermione brightly before turning to the members of the management. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

With that, she gracefully walked to the desk, her hips swaying slightly in a very feminine way, the rapid tapping of her heels resounding throughout the room. Her luscious, hot cocoa coloured curls fell softly onto her shoulders. Her amber eyes were focused on her former professor. She had clearly not expected to see him here; however, her genuine smile of delight directed towards him had surprised Severus. She was happy to see him ... How very odd. The soft light in her eyes and bright smile on her face were unexpected, extremely peculiar and highly disconcerting. Yes, highly disconcerting indeed.

His own reaction to the sight of her was even more disturbing. Of course, he had known he would see her today; it was not a surprise for him. He had chosen her himself from the long list of the young Potions masters. However, the moment she appeared at the entrance in her simple, white button-down shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt, Severus' mouth had gone dry.

Suddenly and inexplicably, all his nerve endings became acutely aware of just how tight Hermione's black skirt was and how utterly delectably it fitted on her curvy hips. How positively edible her fetching, shapely legs, round knees and delicate ankles looked.

When Hermione came close, sitting right in front of him, he noticed that her modest (at least, that was Severus' first impression) button-down shirt was rather tight and well fitted as well. Severus could clearly see a few opened buttons on the top and then—there was the first fastened pearl button. The material of the shirt was stretched and strained under the pressure of Hermione's breasts beneath, causing the buttonhole to open just a little too wide. This little pearl button was obviously in trouble. Hermione drew a breath and the fastened pearl button plunged into the hole even more, threatening to fly open at any second and make Hermione's enticing cleavage available for viewing in the process.

The consideration of this possibility alone caused poor Severus to go rigid, and to his horror, it happened simultaneously with more than one part of his body. Suffice it to say that the sudden stiffness in his neck and jaws was the least of his problems.

Oh, bugger. What is this shit? thought Severus. He had not reacted to a woman in this manner for quite some time. Hell with that!—he never reacted to women in this quite desperate, manner.

He knew it! All this Christmas shit was getting to him—these carol singers and bells everywhere, these smiling nitwits (also known as children) with all these stupid lollipops and toys, their daft parents with their idiotic urge to kiss each other in public. They were the problem; of that Severus was certain. All of them, with their sick tendencies to parade their happiness, made him long and yearn for something soft, comforting, or maybe for somebody—somebody curvy, feminine and preferably with peach-hued skin. For Hermione Granger obligingly supplied his absurdly oversexed brain.

Agh! Bollocks!Severus soundlessly growled in his mind. With strenuous effort, fighting against his traitorous body and even, to some degree, his mind, Severus Snape forced himself to focus on the young witch's curriculum vitae, even though he knew it almost by heart already.

Hermione Granger—strange! He had expected her to be a Weasley by now. Severus discreetly glanced at Hermione's fingers—no, there was no evidence of engagement rings of any kind there. A relieved sigh escaped from his mouth. Hmm, interesting. Thoughts were swirling in the professor's mind.

He had not seen her for eight years. So, she is what—twenty-six now? He knew that she had returned to Hogwarts after the war and attained her N.E.W.T.s. with the highest scores possible, of course.

Severus still remembered how perplexed he had been by the girl's peculiar decision to pursue a career in potion-making. However, the moment he found out that she had accepted the apprenticeship in France, he had become completely pissed off. The fact irritated the hell out of him.

Why on earth did she choose France and that old prick Bierdue?

The insolent girl hadn't even come to him, didn't even ask about an apprenticeship! And don't you dare think that Severus was jealous... because he wasn't, not at all. He didn't feel even a sliver of envy for that bloody idiot Bierdue. No! It was just completely, utterly illogical to go to France when he, her own professor, was right here in England. Besides, Severus just knew that he could have given her so much more, so much more... knowledge. Yes, knowledge. Definitely, he would have given her more knowledge.

Of course, he had been intrigued when he saw her curriculum vitae in the pile among the others. He was not only curious but also somewhat edgy in anticipation of their meeting.

An impatient cough from one of the directors brought Severus back to reality. Everyone in the room was waiting for him to start the interview. Hermione fidgeted nervously in her chair; evidently, Severus' long silence had startled her. He smirked and locked his inquiring gaze on her. It was a pleasure to see that he wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable. To the professor's relief the wave of stiffness had subsided as well.

"Very well, Ms. Granger, tell me about your apprenticeship." Severus proceeded with the typical interview procedure. He asked questions; Hermione answered them. Everything was going normally. Well, almost normally.

The abnormal thing was that Hermione Granger was quite passionate about Potions. Her eyes were alight. As the interview continued, she gradually became more and more excited about the subject. Her breathing mirrored her emotional state, and therefore, the little pearl button on Hermione's shirt was under rather intense stress. Apparently, so was Severus.

Each laboured breath drawn by the young witch, each visible movement of her chest caused that damn pearl button almost to unfasten. Almost, but not quite. This repetitive action had done unbelievable things to Severus or, to be precise, to his body. He was hot and cold at the same time, stiff and rigid in all possible and impossible places. In other words, the Professor was slowly simmering in the cauldron of undiluted hell.

By the middle of the interview, Severus was aflame. His eyes were smouldering and shifted continuously between the pearl button and the almost visible contours of Hermione's breasts that the freaking button didn't allow him to see.

Moreover, if all this humiliation weren't enough, Hermione Granger, ever so astute, had noticed her former Professor's predicament. The young witch's pupils widened, her breathing became more feverish (how's it even bloody possible!). Unconsciously, she wet her lips with the tip of her pink tongue (Severus almost died at the sight of this) and locked her amber eyes, now lit with a different fire, on his black ones.

Their conversation metamorphosed into an explicit sexual overture. Severus' questions were asked in a low, velvety murmur, and Hermione's answers sounded more like purrs. The content of the questions and answers had ceased to mean anything at this point. Undeniably and hopelessly, they were both drowning in each other's fiery gaze, not caring much about the world around them.

The confused directors of the company, however, cared quite a lot. Not only could they not hear them clearly anymore but also, with every passing minute, they felt themselves entirely out of place in the same room with these two lovebirds, like a third wheel.

So, once again—this time, however, a rather irritated fake cough sounded in the room. It tore Severus from Hermione's eyes, shirt, buttons and dreams about her cleavage. He turned to look at the board members (who were still coughing their guts out) and met their wary eyes.

"Yes, right. Umm, well, Miss Granger. I am sure we have heard enough. We will reach our decision in a couple of days and will inform you accordingly. Thank you for your time; it was nice to see you again."

Severus rounded up the interview rather hastily, and Hermione, still slightly dazed after their intense conversation, stood up, said her goodbyes and left.

"Well, what do you think, Severus?" asked the executive director of the company. The director's wary gaze slowly returned to his more usual one of respect.

Severus stood up and began his summation, his thoughts not quite in order yet.

"Gentlemen, I have known Hermione Granger for many years, starting from Hogwarts. She is an excellent scholar. Miss Granger was always a top button..." The bewildered expression on the faces of the directors told Severus that something was terribly wrong. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair and, cursing and swearing in his mind, continued in a strained voice, "a top student, to be precise. I think that you should hire Miss Granger as leader of your potions makers team. She will become a pearl..." Oh, shit, shit and triple shit, thought Severus to himself and then daringly breathed out.

"Yes, Miss Granger most definitely will become the crown pearl of your potion-makers' collection, gentlemen."

"All right, Severus," said the executive director, giving him a peculiar glance, "it is decided then."

It took only three days of slightly lengthier showers before and after bed, minor redness on his right palm (but nothing too terrible) and virtually unnoticeable strain of his wrist muscles before Severus was back to his usual self. He didn't even remember the shade of that silly pearl button or the colour of Hermione's lips. Not to mention that he had entirely forgotten how deliciously full her breasts, hidden by the shirt and guarded by the button, promised to be...

Alas, fate was never kind to Severus. Never. And this time was not an exception.

Exactly on the fourth evening, when Severus came out after a long, recreational shower and relaxed in his armchair with a nice glass of Firewhisky in his left hand (his right needed its rest), an unknown owl delivered the letter. The professor, with a sour and apprehensive feeling that all his hard work of forgetting Hermione was about to be thrown into pits, opened it and read:

Dear Professor Snape,

Today I've received the contract from The Bolazams Apothecary with a letter in which they stated that they are happy to offer me the position of leading Potions mistress in their company. They also wrote that they believe that I will become the crown pearl in their collection of potions makers (rather odd wording, don't you think?).

Anyway, Professor, I know it was you who recommended me, and I am quite determined to make it up to you.

How about lunch? Please let me know where and when.

Sincerely yours,

Hermione Granger.

Severus hummed in amusement—crown pearl! His accidental pun had gone down into history.