Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Story of H	By : AnyaToile Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 62388 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters associated with it; I am not making any sort of money or compensation for this work.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note- Thanks, guys for sticking with me. I have several chapters already written in my head; they just aren’t until towards the end so I’m constructing a path to them, answering questions of how I get my characters there in a believable manner as I go.

Alina, Her Royal Goddess, Katiekrm- You don’t have to worry about Lucius leaving the story or becoming involved in Hermione’s current punishments. It’s a Severus/Hermione focused story, but Lucius is Severus’s closest friend.

Divine_Nimbus- I totally get where you’re coming from but keep in mind the character of Hermione; she never does anything without a plan and she has difficulty questioning authority, especially when she finds that authority figure brilliant. Also, keep in mind that Severus may be struggling with this as well. I won’t talk about Sirius just yet, but you’ll find that there will be many obstacles to Hermione and Severus entering into a healthy relationship. Note that I didn’t say that they weren’t going to overcome those obstacles.

To everyone else, thanks and continue to read and review.

                Hermione laid back against the grass, enjoying the way the sun’s dancing rays warmed her despite the crisp breeze that whispered past her every few minutes or so. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh to release the tension that had been building during the three hours she’d sat hunched over the books Professor McGonagall had leant her.

                It seemed that the detention records were either linked to another system of record keeping via charms or by another complex set of spells capable of recognizing and recording anytime a student was assigned a detention. The handwriting stayed the same for two hundred years with the same shade of inks used throughout – red for Gryffindor students, blue for Ravenclaw, yellow for Hufflepuff, and of course green for Slytherin. If it had been done by hand, there would defiantly be some variations. Now all Hermione had to do was decide if it was thorough; a record linked to another system of keeping track of this information may be flawed and incomplete, but an intuitive record would be much more accurate because there wouldn't be any room for human error. McGonagall would probably know, but Hermione wanted to steer clear of the office as long as the threat of running into that pompous ass Malfoy senior lingered.

                Nevertheless, there was plenty insight to be gained from simply reading the texts. They were broken down to student name, offense, date and time it was committed, teacher who assigned the detention, the staff member who monitored detention, and a brief description of the punishment. Placing students in stocks was popular until the early 1800s. Whipping seemed to be reserved for severe offences and was almost always administered to male students, never more than 15 lashes. Writing lines was pretty popular by 1820. There was one case where the Cruciatus curse had been used in 1719 on a Margarete Wimplson; she had apparently stolen the sorting hat and had been found attempting to burn it.

                Hermione sighed again and flung her arm over her eyes.

                None of the entries had mentioned anything about enemas, though. Hermione had decided that restraining a student was perfectly common place in the school’s earlier years. Yet, the fact remained that Hermione needed to know what was acceptable more than what was commonly used and more so now than then. But Hermione needed to get through these in the case that McGonagall questioned her about them. And she hadn’t even gotten to the handbook, though she registered somewhere in the back of her head that it would probably be the most useful, so long as it had a chapter explicitly on the appropriate measures a professor could take to discipline a student.

                “This is going to take forever,” she groaned.

                Suddenly, she felt something tickle her nose. She swatted it away only for it to return and something to begin to tickle her right ear. She huffed and sat up.

                “Hey, sleepy head.”

                Ron’s face lit up with his laughter like the child’s face he’d had before the war; Hermione couldn’t hold her glare at something so nostalgically beautiful and comforting. His red hair was clinging to his forehead and cheeks with sweat; his cornflower eyes were dancing with mirth and last of adrenaline that had built up during quidditch practice; his cheeks were flushed; and his freckles were just a few shades darker than his glowing skin. Here in this moment, he wasn’t the boy who had left behind everything he’d love to hunt the fragmented soul of a psychopath while living in constant terror for a year. He wasn’t the boy who had abandoned her and Harry in the woods in a jealous, possessed rage.   He wasn’t the boy who had kissed her in a frenzied passion when he thought it might be the last time. He was just Ron Weasley, her one of her best friends.

                “You’re lucky,” Harry chuckled, “I had to talk him out of levitating you into the lake when we spotted you napping here.”

                Harry too was covered in a fine sheen of sweat from the exertion of practice. He also had grass stains all over the front of his clothes and a piece of grass stuck in his hair that Hermione reached over and pulled out. There was a lightness to him as well; his green eyes shone with comfort and love. Gone was that hunted quality to his face that she had come to associate with Harry’s existence towards the end of the war, though it had been there since he had watched Cedric Diggory die. Hermione mused that it was probably due to more than just knowing that love had won ultimately and that Voldemort was truly dead; she decided that it was probably because he’d found a real, loving, attentive family in the Weasleys who he now lived with officially. And, as she watched him gaze towards another red-headed figure walking from the stands of the pitch, she thought maybe a more romantic love might play a role in his easiness.

                “I wasn’t asleep,” Hermione huffed, though her anger was unconvincing, “I was just resting my eyes after all this reading.”

                “Bloody hell, Mione, I know you love reading, but those things are huge,” Ron said as he grasped one and dragged it across the grass towards him.

                Harry tore his eyes from Ginny’s advancing form and glanced at the title of the book: Detentions 1793 to 1834.

                “What are you reading this for?” Ron said as if it was offensive to even entertain the idea.

                “Report for history, which I should remind you that you two should get a head start on,” she said matter-of-fact.

                Harry gazed out towards the direction of the lake, his eyes distant as they usually were when he was delving into a memory before the war.

                “Snape gave me detention after that incident with Malfoy where I had to go through all these boxes. In each box, there were these cards with all the detentions ever given and I had to organize them and rewrite the unreadable ones. I wonder if they used the cards to write these books. There were a few from my father…”

                Harry trailed off for a moment before he stood up and held his hand out to Hermione and then Ron to help them to their feet. Hermione felt her heart sinking as she processed the information Harry had relayed to them; if they were writing them on cards somewhere, it was probably a charm that linked the books to the cards. That meant only the detentions and the descriptions of what went on that were contained on those cards was in the book. Someone could make up or get information wrong or even neglect to put it into those cards. These books were almost useless in gathering accurate information.

                “Let’s go get some lunch,” Harry said, “You know, there was a whole box of detention cards for the twins, Ron.”

                “I’m surprised you two don’t have a whole box,” Hermione said absently as she brushed her pants off.

                “Hey,” Ron said, feigning offense, “You’re the one with detention tonight. Not us.”

                Hermione gave Ron a nasty look before bending to grab her books.

                “Don’t let Snape get at you, Mione,” Harry said, “He’s like that everybody. You just happened to be unlucky enough to be in the way this time.”

                “Professor Snape, Harry,” Hermione corrected.

                “More like Professor Bat,” Ron muttered.

                Hermione chose to ignore it as she said, “And I wouldn’t be nearly as upset as I am now that I have it twice in a row.”

                Ron and Harry both grabbed one of the heavy books from her arms as they began to walk back towards the school, Hermione relating the events that had taken place in McGonagall’s office that day.

                “He’s a right git, Mione,” Ron said, frowning deeply, his voice taking on a righteous quality.

                Harry said nothing. When they reached the stairs leading up to the castle, he stopped and turned back to wait on Ginny, despite the fact that she was still several feet away. Hermione noticed and grabbed the book he was carrying. He’d probably want his hands free.

                Inside the great hall, Ron and Hermione met with Romilda. She showed Hermione the new earrings she’d bought and gave a box of Honeydukes chocolates to Ron.

                “You’ve got to check out the new bookstore they’ve opened up down there,” she gushed.

                Hermione knew Romilda wasn’t interested in the bookstore, but she found it refreshing that the younger girl was trying to cater to Hermione’s interests.

                “Yeah, we should go next weekend,” Hermione agreed.

                Ginny and Harry finally joined them at the table; Ginny was immediately invited and the girls began planning their shopping trip. Hermione stayed silent, not because of lack of interest, but because her interest in the head table was greater.

                Professor Snape sat, eating his food slowly and carefully, taking sips of his drink every few bites. Lucius Malfoy did not appear to be joining Hogwarts for lunch—probably thought it beneath him to be caught dining among those on salary.

                The entire meal, Hermione kept making discrete glances to the table. Snape never looked up. She did catch someone else looking at her, though. Thomas sat at the Ravenclaw table several feet up the hall, but they still had a good view of each other. When their eyes met, shivers went down her spine. Hermione had forgotten about his pushy behavior this morning. It had frightened her a bit, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her reaction to his advances. It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive. It wasn’t that she was in love with Ron. Hermione just didn’t feel right somehow in accepting his proposal. Maybe it was the fact that he was a year younger than she was or that it felt so strange to think of being with a boy she hadn’t known most of her life. Then there was this nagging feeling that perhaps she should have agreed to go on the date. One date wasn’t like signing up for a lifetime commitment or anything.

                Hermione didn’t allow herself any more time to think of it; it was done and she didn’t have a time turner to undo it, though she doubted she would if she could. Instead, Hermione bid goodbye to her friends and headed to her dorm to finish reading the detention records and start on the handbook. But before she could do all that, she had to finish her aconite report; she lacked about half a foot. And she needed to complete a chart in arithmancy. She’d already finished ancient runes but she wanted to double check her translation. And then there was potions. She hadn’t started on her potions homework and it was due in two days. It was only three feet, but why put it off, Hermione thought.

                “Looks like I’ll be using a Pepper Up potion tonight,” Hermione said slightly out of breath as she entered her room and stacked the heavy books on her desk.

                She grabbed the handbook and decided that she’d come back to the detentions later – after all, she just needed the information required for her confrontation tonight and the rest could be researched between tomorrow and December.

                She flopped down her bed and began to read through it, realizing that without a table of contents, it would take a while. During the next five hours, Hermione didn’t move as she wildly scanned the thousands of pages. It would appear that Scamander was extremely thorough to the point of exhausting half of the English language in order to explain every concept to exactness.

                Sometime during the last hour, Crookshanks decided that the small of Hermione’s back not only made an excellent bed, but that her bum made an excellent pillow. Hermione didn’t acknowledge him, but she made an effort to keep from turning so that he didn’t have to move.

                Dinner hour drew near and Hermione was beginning to feel panic seep into her pores. She hadn’t found a single thing on the conduct of professors concerning student discipline. She buried her head in her arms and let out a loud groan.

                “Crooks, I’m never going to find this information before I have to leave for detention tonight,” her muffled voice carried with it a touch of desperation, but mostly it was the sound of one resigned to their fate.

                At that moment, Crookshanks stood up and stretched, kneading Hermione’s back. After several yawns through which he announced how exhausting it was being him, he walked up her spine towards the book. Considering how intelligent he’d proven himself time and time again, Hermione would have thought that he’d realize that her head was not an extension of her back and she didn’t particularly want his weight pushing her face into the mattress. Crookshanks didn’t seem to care about her desires as he laid down on her lowered head and began pawing at pages.

                Hermione, hearing the rustle of pages turning, shot up hastily yelling, “No! Crookshanks!”

                The cat had tumbled to the bed and was issuing rather disgruntled meows and hisses at her.

                “You silly cat,” Hermione fumed, “You’ve lost my place now.”

                Hermione ignored the daggers the half-kneazle was sending her and turned back to the book. Just as she was about to turn the page, she stopped.

                Her eyes widened and she gasped. Her eyes scanned over the text while her smile grew at each passing sentence.

                She snatched the orange cat up before he could leap down from the bed, hugged him to her body, and began raining kisses down upon his head.

                “Oh Crookshanks, you are a brilliant, perfect, amazing cat. I love you so much. How did you get to be so clever?” She squealed.

                Crookshanks let out a long meow in response before beginning to purr like a sewing machine.

                After a moment, Hermione’s stomach let out a clear rumble and she reluctantly let her familiar down on the bed.

                “Dinner time for the both us.”

                Hermione grabbed a tin of kitty chow and opened it, plopping the contents down into his bowl. He lunged for it – Crookshanks rather loved his kitty chow.

                Hermione checked her appearance in the mirror and found her hair in a degree of disarray she couldn’t even deal with. She took it down from the lopsided bun and ran a brush through it. Her curls responded by fluffing and frizzing. She huffed and twisted it back into a bun that she secured with a proper elastic this time. Nodding once, she tucked her wand in her sleeve, packed the staff handbook in her bag, and all but skipped out the door.

                Thomas was waiting in the common room, leaning against the desk as if he was waiting for her specifically.

                Hermione tried to walk past him, unsure of what to say when he spoke.

                “Hey, Hermione, you seemed upset this morning. I’m sorry if I came across as pushy or offended you in anyway,” he said whilst holding out his empty hands palm up.

                Hermione studied them for a moment before drawing her eyes to his face. He seemed timid and unsure of himself. Hermione smiled at him softy.

                “It’s okay, Thomas. I suppose I did come across as a little testy,” Hermione said softly.

                Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked the carpet with the toe of his shoe.

                “It’s just that I really like you, Hermione,” Thomas said and then stumbled to add, “As a friend, of course, but I think we would enjoy doing something casual, like a date down to Hogsmeade sometime. I know I would.”

                “Thomas, look, I…”

                “I mean, you’re a great girl Hermione. You’re smart, pretty, funny, and bloody clever with a wand,” Thomas gushed, “I admire that.”

                “Thank you, really,” Hermione tried to force as much of an earnest tone into her voice as possible, “But I’m not ready for anything serious with anyone.”

                Thomas opened his mouth to speak but Hermione silenced him by holding up her hand.

                “It’s not about being hung up on Ron. It goes a little deeper than that. There’s a lot I want to get accomplished in my education before I start looking at maintaining a relationship. That wasn’t the ultimate problem between Ron and I dating – it was more along the lines of realizing we’d tried to analyze our feelings under stress and we were wrong – but, even if we hadn’t come to that conclusion so soon, we still felt the strain that trying to juggle catching up in school and getting a head start on our careers was causing. You know, you’re a great guy Thomas, but I’m just not capable of handling a commitment.”

                Thomas smiled and walked towards Hermione, bending down slightly to look her in the eyes as he said, “I get what you’re saying, Hermione. I do. And I’m not asking for commitment. I just wanted to escort you to breakfast. And a lunch in Hogsmeade would be nice, too.”

                Hermione blushed slightly at his being so close and how his rationalization had made her appear a bit hysterical. She lowered her head and smiled before looking back up at him and said, “Okay. We can do lunch at Hogsmeade next weekend.”

                “I’d like that,” he said and offered his arm out to her, “May I walk you down to dinner, m’ lady?”

                Hermione rolled her eyes and swatted his arm away, but replied laughing, “Sure.”

                As they walked, they talked about things which made Hermione nestle down into the comfortable companionship – ancient runes theories, arithmancy tests, how much fun DADA with Professor Remus Lupin was.

                After the war had ended, Remus and Nymphadora Tonks were both honored as heroes of the war and were declared to have offered invaluable and brave service to the wizarding world. Remus’s recognition had given him ample pull among the board of governors (except for Lucius Malfoy) to be reinstated as the defense against the dark arts teacher. He’d also purchased a home for his wife and son right outside Hogsmeade: the shrieking shack. Of course, they had built a home a little bit away from the existing creepy structure, but Remus had confided in Hermione during their summer stay at the Weasleys’ that he felt as if the property stood as a testament to the true friendships that he’d developed in his youth. Hermione knew it was where he had locked himself away during his full-moon transformations, and how his friends, James Potter, Sirius, and Peter Pettigrew, had learned to be animagus just to keep Remus from being alone during those horrible times. Now, Remus was the only surviving member of the marauders and he able to create a new future from the ashes of a decades-old slaughter that had stolen his friends.

                Knowing this, she only found their beautiful little blue house all the more lovely with the decrepit, twisted shack looming in the background.

                “See you later, Hermione,” Thomas’s voice brought Hermione back to the surface of reality.

                “Later,” she said as they parted ways to go to their respective tables.

                Her friends were already there. Ginny and Harry were whispering together quietly, hands entwined. Romilda was practically sitting in Ron’s lap, feeding him off her fork.

                They looked up long enough from their exclusive bubbles of romance to say hello. Hermione smiled knowingly and nodded back to them while she nibbled at a roll.

                She was fine with them sinking down into each other. Ginny and Harry especially deserved it; they’d had to overcome so many obstacles and had lost each other so many times during the war. It wasn’t what young love should have to suffer. Ron and Romilda probably wouldn’t last like Ginny and Harry, but Hermione felt it important that Ron had the same carefree outlet that was romance. Hermione had her parents back, her cat, and her friends. That coupled with the incredible opportunities to better the weakened wizarding society would keep her content for now, she thought.   And it was better than what some people had.

                She glanced up from her plate to search the head table. Snape was in his usual seat to right of Professor McGonagall in the deputy headmaster’s traditional position, eating as he had at lunch –slow and methodical—whilst answering in monosyllables to every attempt of Professor Sprout to engage him in conversation. However, this time, he glanced up when he felt someone’s eyes studying him. Hermione blushed slightly when his black gaze fell on her, shrinking back as if he would consume her whole without warning. But then she remembered what Crookshanks had found in the book. Her face broke out in a radiant smile and she shot him a triumphant look. He merely raised an uninterested eyebrow and went back to eating. After a moment, he set down his utensils and stalked out of the great hall. Hermione knew he was headed to the dungeons and quickly gulped her food down so as to follow after him. It wouldn’t do to be late to her own victory.

Author’s Note- I’m sorry again that there wasn’t any smut in this chapter, but it was beginning to border on the epic as far as length and this felt like an excellent place to stop it. Next chapter which I will have up in the next 12 hours or so will include detailed smut to rival my first few chapters. I pinkie swear this time.
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