Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Madrigal	By : Rotisserie_Cassowary Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7982 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Shaking my head dazedly, I reached into my desk drawer. As I lifted the lid of the intricately carved wooden box, the most comforting aroma in the observable universe bloomed around me. As I folded and rolled a filter from a thick scrap of parchment, I pondered what I could have done differently. I can’t help the things I felt before she was even born. And why does she care, anyway? It didn’t have anything to do with her. I know you can have trouble keeping your emotions separate at first, but it usually fades really quickly...
Unless she wasn’t just feeling your emotions. Maybe she was feeling her own emotions. Maybe she was JEALOUS of Lily...
No. No that’s absurd. Occam’s Razor. She was just caught up in the aftershock. That’s all. Stop trying to convince yourself of the impossible. You’re pathetic.
I carefully twisted the corner of a feather-light rolling paper, then loaded the little envelop I’d created with a particularly stunning Indica-heavy strain of Afghan kush. I settled my filter into the open end and deftly rolled everything into a perfectly tight little cylinder. I ran the edge of the paper ever-so-gently across my moistened lower lip and sealed it snugly.
I removed the formal high-collared frock coat I’d worn all day, followed by my black button-down, to reveal my favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt. It was threadbare, had no fewer than four holes, and confused the hell out of my fellow professors. Many of them seemed to think Ozzy Osborne was some kind of mad dark wizard or something. After a long moment of debate, I selected Pink Floyd’s Animals from my box of albums. I placed it reverentially upon the turntable, lowering the needle to the edge of the record. I lit the spliff from the end of my wand as the first notes of music shimmered into life, and the drag was like heaven on earth. The smoke was musky and deeply complex, with distinct notes of coffee and citrus. I finished it so quickly, I immediately rolled two more.
I was sprawled out on the couch with Sheep blasting at a truly obnoxious volume when the entry wall suddenly dissolved. “Oh shit!” I coughed out, choking on a huge lung-full of smoke. I hurriedly crushed out the spliff on the ground, but there was really no point. The entire lab was hazy and stunk like a head shop, and I had fucking Pink Floyd of all things playing.
“Umm, I’m really, really sorry to disturb you, Master Snape. I just felt so guilty that I couldn’t fall asleep until I came and apologized. I, uh, I didn’t mean to scream at you. It was totally out of nowhere. I don’t know what happened,” she looked at the ground shamefully.
Way too stoned to deal with complex sentiments, I just responded, “It’s all forgotten, Miss Granger.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Umm, just a quick question. Are you, uhh, smoking pot, Professor?”
“I’m an adult. I can do as I damn well please, Miss Granger.”
“Yeah no. No, I agree. I was just wondering…”
I barked out a laugh, and she looked taken aback. “You want to try it, don’t you?” I choked, coughing and cracking up at myself. She swallowed hard and didn’t respond.
“Come here, then.” I patted the couch, and she timidly sat a couple feet away from me. “Now you can’t tell a soul about this, you understand? Very few wizards use marijuana, and it isn’t against Ministry law, but I’m quite certain the school would still frown on this.” I lit the third joint, getting it rolling before passing it to her. “Now just pull on it like you’re trying to breathe through a straw.” She took a surprisingly large hit, held it for a split second, then fell into an enormous choking fit. I snatched it away from her before she could accidently burn herself.
“Merlin’s bollocks!” she croaked when her coughing finally died down. I chuckled and patted her back bracingly. “Take smaller hits for now,” I advised. She nodded and I passed it back to her. Her subsequent drags went down much easier. I was so mellow by now that I let her smoke most of the rest of it herself. I just sat back and watched her, adrift in admiration. She seemed unaware of my staring, or at least unconcerned with it. When she’d smoked it down to the filter, I took it back from her and stubbed it out on the ground.
She settled back into the couch, sighing contentedly, “Wow. I feel so excellent. I’m trying so hard, and I can’t even remember all the homework I have to do tomorrow. Do you know how incredible that is?”
“Oh, I know exactly how you feel, Miss Granger.”
We spent the next hour mostly in companionable silence. She seemed to be enjoying my music, and when the record ended I let her pick the next one. She chose Simon & Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water, saying it was one of her parents’ favorites. I told her to stop making me feel so damn old, and the sound of her laugh was so sweet that a little balloon of joy inflated in my chest. When she came back from changing the record, she was sitting far closer than she had been before. I was acutely aware of every miniscule movement she made. My stoned brain told me to just reach out for her, pull her to me, but I fought it with every ounce of my being. Then she stretched and rearranged her robes, and all of a sudden her thigh was touching mine.
Blood instantly rushed between my legs, much to my humiliation. Wow, you’re such a man. Getting hard from just your goddamn legs touching. And the other night you came just from thinking about her eyes. What the hell is wrong with you?
We spent most of the next hour like that, as I tried in vain not to focus on the object of my obsessions. The tingling heat that had started from our point of contact had now grown to consume my entire body with mind-numbing need.
By the time she left, thanking me and bidding me goodnight, I was nearly delirious. I wrenched my trousers down, not even bothering to go to the bedroom. I could still feel the heat of her leg pressing against mine as I imagined her turning her body, swinging her other leg around to straddle me. I could very nearly taste the musky ganja on her tongue as I fantasized about her kissing me… so shy, so sweet, so gentle. I turned my face to the side, burying my nose in the spot her head had been resting mere seconds before. The delicious, intoxicating scent of her put me over edge, and I came abruptly and violently. I cried out her first name tearfully as my hand filled with my own fluid, and I didn’t even have the decency to feel ashamed.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Madrigal