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. |
After the fruitless confrontation with Draco, I stormed back to my quarters. I gave severe detentions to two couples I found canoodling in hidden nooks. I didn’t get nearly as much satisfaction from this as I usually did, and I felt a little pang of jealousy each time. These kids don’t know how lucky they are. Oh, to be young and beautiful. What a luxury to have the person you desire want you in return.
Back in my quarters, I smoked and continued to drink my way into a stupor. At some point I found myself slumped in the corner of the shower, shaking and crying pathetically. Wow, Severus. You’re a real piece of work. You scare the shit out of the girl, practically molesting her. She shows up at a party with a beautiful, age-appropriate man, and you act like she’s done something deplorable. She should be with someone like him. Why would she ever want you? You’re despicable. You’re ugly. You’re a painfully awkward, greasy-haired, big-nosed fiend. You’re a fucking Death Eater, and she’s best friends with the Chosen One. In what universe would she lower herself, degrade herself, to be with you? And now you’ve gone and terrified her so much, she’s never going to want to work with you again. Those hours with her in your lab are the highlight of your entire fucking life, and you just ruined it because you got drunk and jealous. Disgusting. Shameful. Animal.
I woke the next morning deep in the throes of the worst hangover of my life. I spent the entire day in bed, smoking ganja, drinking water, and trying not to vomit.
Sunday came around, and although I felt slightly better, I couldn’t bear to face the outside world. I spent the day pacing my lab, talking to myself, and utterly failing to distract myself with a myriad of tasks. I ordered my meals delivered from the kitchen, but the plates were still full when the house elves took them away.
It was nearly 10 pm when the wall dissolved. I was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, smoking from my heavy glass water pipe. I was deep in a spiraling depression, Disintegration by The Cure blasting from the record player. I couldn’t even bring myself to look up when she stood before me, hands on her hips. “So you ARE alive, then,” she said with a scolding tone, “You’ve missed the last SIX meals. I was worried You-Know-Who had killed you… or you’d killed yourself with alcohol poisoning…” she fretted.
“Well as you can see, I am alive, for the most part, so go on then, leave, there’s no reason for you to be here,” I mumbled, staring resolutely at her knees.
“Professor, this behavior is completely unacceptable! Look at yourself! You’re a mess!”
I looked up at her then, shocked, but lacking much venom. “Excuse me? I can do as I damn well please. Last I checked, YOU’RE the apprentice, and I’M the master.”
“Be that as it may, you need someone to look out for you. You obviously aren’t great at taking care of yourself…” she admonished. I gave her a low growl and curled my lip derisively, but said nothing. “Ok, so I know about you talking to Malfoy. Harry overheard you guys arguing. I know you’re under SO much strain right now. Dumbledore and You-Know-Who pulling you in every direction. I know You-Know-Who is summoning you nearly every other week now. It’s so obvious when you kick me out of the lab early. I’m not stupid, you know…”
She took a breath and continued, “It’s understandable that you’d crack once in a while. You’re only human! But you have to know I’m here for you, Sir. I’m always here for you. I can help you. I’d do anything for you…” she trailed off.
I spoke finally, “I sincerely doubt you’d do anything for me, Hermione.”
She shook her head, but dropped the subject. “Come on, then, Sir. It’s time for bed.”
I allowed her to help me up, and with one tiny, perfect hand on my shoulder, she guided me into my bedroom. I noticed that I was wearing an old concert tee, so faded as to be illegible, and elastic-waist sweatpants. How utterly humiliating. Letting the girl put you to bed like a child, and you’re in the least attractive clothes humanly possible. Trying to maintain some modicum of masculinity, I pulled my shirt off and tossed it in the corner of the room.
Hermione’s eyes were huge, taking in my disfigured visage. My slender torso was criss-crossed by countless scars, some paper-thin and silvery, some protruding and angry red. Pssh, yeah, that’ll convince her you’re still a man. Let her see how you’ve allowed yourself to be abused for longer than she’s been alive. That’s really attractive, I scoffed at myself. She blushed intensely and quickly turned away to light a fire.
I climbed into bed, settling into a pile of pillows and pulling the covers to my navel. “The train comes tomorrow morning…” she pointed out, though I was obviously aware. I simply nodded in acknowledgement.
“So maybe I’ll just stay here and read for a bit…” she practically whispered. I said nothing. “Maybe I could read aloud? Till you fall asleep?”
“That would be pleasurable, Hermione,” I murmured, stoned and sleepy.
“You’ve called me Hermione three times now, Sir,” she said, so softly I could barely hear her from her perch next to the fireplace. I opened my eyes and gazed at her for a long time. “I suppose I have,” I replied simply.
After a long minute, she pulled out a textbook and began to regale me with accounts of Goblin riots in the 1700’s. I watched her avidly, then languidly, until finally, much later, her sweet, mellifluous voice lulled me to sleep.
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