Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130141 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: You know, I'm an idiot. I didn't label this fic AU, as it's OBVIOUSLY AU because if it was a longer fic I was writing, none of this stuff would be happening this fast...and I'm talking too much. Anyway, so it's definitely AU. For every review, I will do a song and dance to 'Bohemian Rhapsody' along with acting out with two random objects of your choice. And thus far, THANK YOU ALL for the reviews, favs, and alerts! They make my perpetually empty inbox most happy and they feed the Muse. No...literally, they feed the Muse. Your reviews are the equivalent of Teuscher truffles, and if you've never had one, they're like the Rolls Royce of chocolate. Get thee to a Teuscher and get some Jasmine truffles!

Nuff talk, onto the story.

It had been nearly a month since Hermione last saw the curmudgeonly professor. Lupin had returned to Grimmauld Place, handing Hermione three books from his collection back home before taking up with the boys. Ron and Harry were glad for Lupin's presence, as was Hermione, although she continued to silently worry about Snape.

It took a solid week of Ron begging and nagging at his dad before Mr. Weasley finally capitulated and allowed them a short trip to Diagon Alley. The only catch was that they all had to go out using Polyjuice Potion, and be escorted by no fewer than two Aurors.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione were buzzing with excitement at the prospect of traveling somewhere other than another floor of Grimmauld Place. Tonks, along with one other unfamiliar Auror, had showed up that morning, both wearing plain wizards' robes. Despite the risk they were all taking, the blue-haired witch merely added to the camaraderie, gently poking fun at their altered appearances.

"Bloody hell, I've forgotten how disgusting Polyjuice tastes!" Ron spat, uncouthly sticking out his tongue and wiping it on his sleeve. "I feel like I just drank a vat of warm p-"

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped, glaring at him with a pair of unfamiliar blue eyes.

The three had been transformed into much older adults, all with non-descript appearances that wouldn't attract unwanted attention. Everything had been sorted in a rather hush-hush manner, but without so many words, it was explained that the three had used hairs that were arbitrarily picked from unsuspecting Muggles.

Tonks laughed and jested, saying that they looked as if they could be her parents, calling Harry and Ron her dads and asking if she could have a few Sickles for some ice cream once they were in Diagon Alley.

Travelling by method of Muggle transportation, all the while Tonks fiddling with the many buttons and knobs on the dashboard, only for her colleague to slap her hand away, snapping at her to stay put. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were squeezed into the backseat, trying not to laugh at Tonks being chastised as if she was a small child. Tonks merely pulled a face at her partner, throwing a smirk over her shoulder to the three behind her.

As a result of growing up in the Dursley household, Harry had been well-versed in Muggle vehicles, and was more than happy to point out the function of each button on the dashboard. Tonks listened attentively, nodding her head at Harry's patient explanation.

It hadn't taken long for the group to make their way to Diagon Alley. Tonk's partner, a quiet Auror named Winnerip, gave explicit instructions on how they were going to proceed with their outing. Tonks and Winnerip would be unobtrusive, at the same time keeping the transformed teenagers within their sight at all times.

Harry and Ron were giving their divided attention to Winnerip, their eyes roving around and taking in the view of the shops they planned on visiting. Hermione was doing just the opposite, paying strict attention and almost looking as if she wanted to pull out a quill and parchment to take down notes.

It was no surprise that Hermione wanted to visit the bookshop, and a stoic Winnerip gladly acquiesced in escorting her there. Ron, Harry, and Tonks wanted to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the new racing broomsticks.

Within five minutes, Hermione had settled into a corner of Flourish and Blotts, three oversized books in her lap and another pile at her feet. Taking in each written word as if it was water and she was a woman that had been left out in a desert for thirty days, Hermione greedily pored over the tomes, oblivious to everything around her. Winnerip was standing covertly on the other side of the shop, deeply engrossed in a book of his own.

"Oh, excuse me," a portly, middle-aged wizard wearing drab brown robes said. He had been purposely striding down the aisle and his foot caught the edge of Hermione's neat pile of books, causing them to topple down and scatter all over the floor.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed under her breath, tugging on the edge of his robes before he was able to walk away. "It's me, you prat!"

"Hermione? Damn, I'd nearly forgotten what you looked like!" he whispered, doubling back and bending down to restack her books. "Harry's outside with Tonks; we were going to get food and wanted to see if you wanted to come with."

"Would you mind grabbing me something? I'd really like to stay here. I'll eat whatever you get on the way back home."

"Sure thing," he promised before turning to walk out of the bookshop.

Hermione resumed her reading, ignoring the droves of witches and wizards that trickled past her. Finally settling her purchases with a clerk, Hermione shrank her oversized bundle and placed it in her purse. She then delicately hinted to Winnerip that a visit to the ladies' was in order and walked off.

I needed this, Hermione thought, peering at her altered appearance in the small mirror as she washed her hands at the sink. The short outing had been just the diversion she needed to get through another two months at Grimmauld Place. Although Hermione was less circumspect with her ebullience, she had been truly elated to go out and get away from the dark walls of 12 Grimmauld Place, away from Harry's surly house-elf, away from everything that had her in a perpetual state of uneasiness since the age of eleven.

Hermione had just walked out of the loo and was headed to find Winnerip when a multitude of screams suddenly rang out, a crowd of witches and wizards clamoring to push through the single, narrow door of Flourish and Blotts at the same time.

The deluge was entirely too thick for Hermione to make heads or tails of anything, and she found herself with her back pressed against a tall bookshelf, trying to avoid being knocked down and trampled. Witches and wizards were all in a panic, darting past her in a flurry of multicolored robes. Parents had scooped up their hysterically screaming children, one witch nearly falling and reaching out a hand to balance herself on Hermione's robes until an older man caught the woman and whisked her away.

Unable to so much as move to see where Winnerip was in positioned in the shop, Hermione ducked down and attempted to make her way back to the loo. She had moved all of two feet when a firm hand shot out and settled across her face, roughly pressing down on her nose and mouth.

Hermione instantly flailed her limbs, her handbag dropping with thump that was unable to be heard over the cacophony, tearing at the strong hand holding onto her and trying to get it away from her mouth. Judging by the hard body pressed against her back, Hermione guessed it was a man, a rather tall man, as his other arm was insinuated around her waist, easily hoisting her up off her feet and dragging her to Merlin knew where.

Refusing to go down without a fight, Hermione continued kicking and writhing about, desperate to get free of her captor. The man remained silent, his rough, calloused hand pressing further into the bridge of her nose, sending pain flaring throughout her head.

Right when Hermione attempted to move her jaw in aims of biting the offending limb, a flash of green light came from the vicinity in front of her, her captor groaning in pain and loosening his grasp.

A loud crack resounded in the shop as Hermione fell to the floor from the unexpected release, the back of her head coming in flush contact with the solid floor. Too dizzy to move for several seconds, when Hermione finally came around it was to see the terrified faces of Tonks, as well as a still Polyjuiced Harry and Ron. They were the only ones in the shop, and whoever grabbed her had obviously Apparated, and there was no way to trace behind him.

"Are you all right?" Tonks asked, wand in her left hand and her right hastily pulling Hermione up to her feet. "We've got to go, we can't stay here," she promptly told the three, her head whipping around as she looked for Winnerip.

When most of the patrons had fled from the shop. Winnerip was discovered lying face down, blood standing out starkly on his temple. Tonks let out a crude word as she turned him over, pointing her wand and shouting Renervate!

The older wizard came to, unsteadily sitting up and when clarity finally returned, he began explaining about someone attacking him, shortly afterwards flinging hexes at patrons in the shop. Realizing that the attack on the Auror had merely been a distraction-an almost well-thought out one-that served to attempt to bring the Golden Trio out of hiding.

It had worked as well. Winnerip had aimed a hex at the faceless, cloaked wizard trying to drag Hermione away, only for a Stunning Spell to be sent his way and knock him down.

With a forced calmness, the group walked out of Flourish and Blotts, making their way back to the wall being the Leaky Cauldron. Winnerip was holding a handkerchief to his head, pressing down to stop the flow of blood. Tonks bore a grim look on her face, her hands shaking as she swiftly directed the other three back to the car.

The ride back to Grimmauld Place seemed longer this time, the air thick with tension. Each time Ron or Harry tried to speak, desperate to find out what had just happened back in the book shop, Tonks grew shorter than usual, telling them to wait until they got back to headquarters.

Hermione was also shaken up, and had remained quiet ever since being pulled out of Flourish and Blotts. Harry had thoughtfully noticed her fallen handbag, and held onto it until they were in the car. He'd handed it to Hermione, asking in a troubled voice if she was alright. Hermione nodded her head, numbly taking her handbag from Harry, still unable to speak.

"Is anyone going to tell us what the bloody hell just happened?" Ron fumed, leaning forward in his seat and tugging on Tonk's headrest.

"Just give me a minute!" Tonks snapped, her eyes intently focused on the road. She seemed capable of driving, even if not completely comfortable with doing so. Winnerip removed the bright-red saturated cloth from his head, pulling down the passenger visor and examining his injury in the tiny mirror.

"We have to contact the others," he told Tonks in a low voice, turning around to glare at Ron, who immediately let go of Tonk's seat.

Ron and Harry continued talking over Hermione, the clammed up witch too distracted to bother with telling her friends to shut up and stop yelling over her. The small cluster finally arrived at Grimmauld Place, wands hidden in their sleeves but clutched tightly in their hands, ready to use if necessary. No sooner than they'd all spilled through the front door, Molly, Arthur, Kingsley and a haggard-looking Lupin descended upon the group.

"Oh, goodness! We came as soon as we found out what happened!" Molly shrilled, ushering a now back to normal Ron, Harry, and Hermione into the drawing room. Remus and Kingsley followed in behind, looking tense as ever.

"Are you kids all right?" Arthur cut in, attempting to force calmness into the room when he heard the panicked tone his wife's voice had taken.

"Yeah...I think so," Harry stammered. "What happened back there? One minute Tonks and I were standing in front of Flourish and Blotts, the next, everyone comes barreling out of the shop, nearly knocking us over."

"It was a group of You-Know-Who's minions," Tonks interrupted. "Not a lot of them, mind you, but enough, and they weren't dressed in their usual get-up. That's why no one noticed them, idiots. There are pictures of their faces plastered all over!" She had forced Winnerip to sit down and was peering at his head when he pushed her away, saying that he was fine. "I don't know how or if they even knew that we were there, but something happened for them to cause all the pandemonium."

"Moody's gone to check out things," Kingsley interrupted in a deep voice, walking over to the three teenagers. "Did you three see anything? Do you remember anything out of the ordinary?"

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were sitting together on a small sofa, each silently shaking their heads.

"Nothing at all?" Lupin interrupted. "Are you sure? Did you use each other's names, your real names?"

"Yes...but only once when Hermione and I were in the shop, and it was more like a whisper. I doubt anyone was actually able to hear," Ron told him.

Lupin began pacing back and forth, the agitation obvious on his face. "Something isn't right here, something had to have happened for this to have gone wrong. And you're absolutely sure that you hadn't noticed anything?"

"No," Hermione weakly uttered, finally finding her voice. "Ron and Harry stayed with Tonks to go in the Quidditch shop, and after that Ron came in Flourish and Blotts to ask if I'd wanted something to eat. Before that he tripped over my books, and that was the only time we'd used each other's names, but even then nothing happened. Nothing was amiss when I told Winnerip that I was going to the loo, but soon as I came out, there was screaming and someone grabbed me, but I couldn't see his face."

"His face? How do you know it was a man if you were unable to see them?" Kingsley asked.

"Believe me-it was a man. Unless there's a really strong woman with no breasts and hairy knuckles roaming about, this was definitely a man."

Mrs. Weasley continued fussing over the teenagers, growing snappish when Kingsley was insistent on pressing them for more information.

"We have to tell Dumbledore," he gravelly told Arthur. "And I know you don't want to hear me say it, but Remus is in no condition to remind behind at headquarters."

Remus shot Kingsley a sharp look at that comment, but quickly caved in. "You're right, it's too close to the cycle."

"You should have stayed behind," Tonks suddenly told him. "We could have handled everything."

The look on Remus' face was unfathomable as his eyes fell steadily upon the spiky blue-haired witch, yet he remained silent.

"She has a point, Remus," Molly gently told him. "The kids should be alright now, besides, it's not as if anyone unexpected is going to come through the front door."

Hermione got the distinct impression that either the adults truly were ignorant as to what really happened in Diagon Alley, or that they knew more than they were admitting. When speaking to Kingsley, Hermione had merely done so in an automated manner. While everyone around her kept talking in frenzied tones, she was busy wondering why she felt remarkably calm, especially considering the fact that someone had attempted to kidnap her and possibly do things that she didn't even want to contemplate had they succeeded.

Winnerip had finally mended his head with a bit of wand work, and gave Kingsley and Remus his own account of their visit to the bookshop. When it was deemed that the entire situation was critical yet unexplainable, Kingsley stated that he needed to get back to the Ministry and took his leave.

Mrs. Weasley was insistent upon sticking around at Grimmauld Place, claiming that she wanted to make sure Ron, Harry and Hermione had become more settled before leaving. Winnerip, Tonks, and Remus had already left, leaving behind Molly and Arthur. Mrs. Weasley prepared a simple meal, forcing the three to eat saying that they needed something to recover from their shock.

Ron had just taken a bite of his sandwich when Mr. Weasley stated that Snape would be returning to Grimmauld Place that evening. Loudly complaining around a mouthful of roast beef, Ron used no fewer than three unsavory epithets in reference to the professor. Harry didn't look happy at having Snape back either, but knew that it was pointless to fuss.

"Harry and Hermione have to stay here with Snape as well, and you don't hear them moaning!" Mrs. Weasley told her son, sounding completely miffed. "I'll admit that he isn't my favorite person, but at least he's serious enough to take on the job of looking after you three. All this morning, something kept telling me that you kids shouldn't have left the house today."

Mrs. Weasley went on fretting, all the while Ron and Harry eagerly continued to put away the large plate of sandwiches set before them. Hermione barely had an appetite and merely picked at her food, hoping that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't notice her not eating.

Thirty minutes later, Molly and Arthur told the three that they were going back to the Burrow. Ron went off at the mouth again, asking if Snape the bat had already flown into Grimmauld Place. Arthur told him to watch his mouth, but answered that yes, Snape was indeed already in the house.

Molly took her time kissing her son and adopted son and daughter goodbye, and she and Arthur left. Hermione was still out of sorts and told the boys that she was going to her room. Leaving them behind in the kitchen, she trudged upstairs, paying scant attention to Kreacher, who'd been lurking in the hallway, unsuccessfully polishing Mrs. Black's constant muttering portrait with a filthy rag.

In dire need of solitude, Hermione ensconced herself in the bedroom, not even bothering to remove her shoes as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Harry and Ron had been nothing but sweet, repeatedly asking if she was okay. More for their benefit, Hermione told them that she was fine, that in spite of being grabbed from behind in the book shop and hitting her head when she fell, nothing else was wrong. When they continued to look at her as if they expected her to crack, Hermione had waited another five minutes before feigning exhaustion and slipping out of the kitchen.

Hermione perfunctorily moved about, opening her handbag and dumping out the small cluster of purchased books, flicking her wand at each one to restore them to its proper size. She felt completely detached from her surroundings, and needed to do something, anything, that would distract her mind, or at least force her into a somewhat lucid state.

Attempting to read one of her new books, Hermione didn't realize that she'd been stuck on the same page for thirty minutes until Ron and Harry knocked at her door.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Harry asked, concern flooding his green eyes as he picked up on his friend's listless behavior.

"Yes," Hermione answered, leaning against the door frame.

"I told you she was fine," Ron mumbled to Harry, looking distracted himself. "You know how Hermione is sometimes."

Hermione wanted to smack Ron for his thoughtless comment, but found herself unable to muster the effort to do so. Telling her friends that she was going to bed early, Hermione bid them both goodnight and shut her door.

She was not fine. Hermione hadn't been fine ever since the battle at the Ministry of Magic. There had been a brief stretch of time where was positive that the Death Eaters were going to kill her and her friends and roast their bodies over an open pit, with the blood-thirsty Bellatrix dancing and cackling around the roaring flames as if it was her own personal witch hunt, with her macabre black robes flapping in the wind.

Numbly gathering her toilet kit, Hermione took went to the bathroom on her floor and sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for it to fill. The showerhead wasn't working properly and Mrs. Weasley had warned her that it was best to not use magic on it, as she wasn't familiar with the plumbing system. Hermione was in a daze as the water filled the dingy ceramic basin, and had to hurriedly add cold water when she realized that steam was filling the small room.

It was another half hour before Hermione emerged from the bathroom with still damp hair. Her body felt relaxed from the hot water but her mind remained riddled with anxiety. Dressed in pajamas and sitting in her bedroom, once more paying scant attention to the book in her hands, Hermione felt a sudden sense of constriction, and could no longer bear the sight of the tattered, dark blue wallpaper.

She had flung open the door and was on her way downstairs when she heard the voices of Ron and Harry on the way up. I can't deal with them right now, she thought fervently, making her footsteps light as she retreated and circled around to the stairs leading to the top of the house. Hermione had every intention of staying on the top landing when the boys paused at the bottom of the step.

"Say, do you notice that Hermione's been a bit off lately, I mean, more than usual?" Ron was asking.

"Someone tried to kidnap her, how else do you expect her to act?" Harry shot back.

"No, no, I don't mean that, but I mean, even before," Ron continued, his voice sounding pensive. "The only time she's somewhat normal is when Ginny comes around, and then she's chasing me down, making me sit with her while she reads. I wanted to hide her bloody book but Hermione can be scary."

Huddled down at the top of the steps, Hermione was sure that she heard Harry choke back a snort. He was probably also amused at the fact that Ron noticed the way Hermione demanded his attention when his sister was around, but knew that he hadn't worked out the why of it.

"Maybe we should check on her again, you know, before we go to bed," Ron then suggested, only for Harry to firmly protest.

"Are you mad? Hermione already said she wants to be left alone, and I don't feel like being told off tonight. No, we'll wait to see how she is in the morning."

"All right, I guess you have a point," Ron conceded, their voices growing dimmer as they continued down the hall and to their bedroom.

When the coast was clear, Hermione uncurled herself from her crunched up position, in aims of walking back downstairs. A door suddenly creaked open and she paused, hearing the footsteps of what sounded like Ron as he made his way to the bathroom.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stayed put until her knees began to ache. A flicker of curiosity crossed her mind and her eyes flitted towards the room at the furthest end of the nearly pitch dark hallway. Remembering Mr. Weasley saying that Snape was in fact at Grimmauld Place, Hermione then noticed that she had yet to see or hear the austere man.

Without Ron and Harry's banter to distract her, Hermione began thinking about their unfortunate afternoon in Diagon Alley. Whatever it was, perhaps sitting in the barely lit hallway, it served to incite her already muddled thoughts, and Hermione had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from crying outright.

But she couldn't cry.

It seemed as if the weight of the entire stressful stay at Grimmauld Place heightened and amalgamated with the stresses of her nearly being kidnapped, and everything that she'd been unable to feel at the moment crashed down on her shoulders, leaving a viciously trembling witch in its wake.

Little dry sobs escaped from her mouth, and Hermione bit down on her hand, trying to muffle them. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of emotions that refused to relent, and it left her off kilter. All sorts of scenarios began running through her head-what if the person that grabbed her from behind had succeeded, what would they have done with her? What if the Death Eaters had managed to actually kill her and her friends? What if Winnerip and Tonks hadn't been there?

Wishing that things could go back to a state of relative normalcy was a pipe dream at best. Hermione knew that she was in this thing with her friends for good, and it didn't matter whether she wanted to be or not, as undoubtedly there was no walking away.

Still, holding it all in the way she'd been going about with seemed to only backfire, as Hermione was unable to gain control of her tempestuous emotions. She wished she had Crookshanks, as her cat was some small comfort, but she'd had to leave him behind in the care of her parents. Becoming so far gone, Hermione hadn't even noticed that someone was now standing in front of her until a glimmer of white light poured from the tip of a wand hovering near her head.

"Granger, why the devil are you sitting in the dark and crying?" the sour voice of Severus Snape hissed.

One trembling hand clamped down over her mouth, Hermione couldn't bring herself to lift her head to look up, and fought to regain control of her body. Taking a few deep breaths, she pulled both knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, closing her eyes and bowing her head.

Snape was still firmly rooted by her feet, impatience obvious in his voice as he told her, "If you're having some sort of break down, might I suggest you doing so on your own floor? I came up here in aims of silence and solitude; the sobs of a child three feet away from my door defeats that purpose."

Opening her mouth to say what, Hermione had no idea, yet she closed it and slowly shook her head, her still damp curls clinging to her shoulders. She didn't even care that Snape was more concerned with his quiet time being disrupted, totally ignoring the fact that she was obviously distressed. When she still didn't supply an answer fast enough for the peevish professor, Snape put out the light on his wand and stalked back down the hallway.

Hermione was unsure just how far he'd made it, as his footsteps were heavy with stealth and barely made noise on the ancient carpet, yet something in her finally broke and a loud, keening wail erupted from her mouth. Try as she might, Hermione couldn't stop. Every single worried thought she'd been holding onto seemed to come out with her cries, yet it still didn't feel remotely cathartic. If anything, she felt worse the more she cried, because Hermione knew that crying would solve nothing, and that if she cried or not there was still the chance of her young life ending too soon.

Chest heaving and tears dripping down her cheeks and falling to the tops of her hands, Hermione suddenly felt a surprisingly strong hand clamp down on her left arm and roughly hoist her to her feet, none-too-gently leading her down the hallway and into a dimly lit room that she'd only been in to clean once before with Ginny.

"Stop crying," Snape sharply ordered, firmly guiding her to sit on a low-placed, threadbare sofa.

It took Hermione more than a few minutes to calm down. "S-sorry," she stammered, chest heaving and using her hand to wipe the tears off her face. Her breath caught a few times before it finally evened out, and Hermione looked up through bleary eyes. Snape was standing across from her, looking slightly put out with his arms folded across his chest.

"Sorry, sir," he dryly replied.

"Sorry, sir," Hermione mumbled, lowering her head again.

"Believe me, I'm not interested in the reason for your meltdown. I only brought you in here so your whinging didn't set off that damned portrait," Snape continued. "The last thing I feel like hearing at this untimely hour is that harpy screaming her head off." Falling silent, he looked across at Hermione who was practically curled up on the low sofa. He had already appraised her form upon finding her in the hallway, and noticed that she wasn't wearing the fluffy monstrosity that her favorite carpet slippers consisted of. Her sleepwear left much to be desired, but Snape tried not to have an opinion on that.

It didn't dawn on Hermione to feel uncomfortable, sitting before the professor in her sleeping clothes, even though they were a pair of soft pyjama bottoms and an old oversized shirt that once belonged to her Mum, both of which concealed much of her body. Her bathrobe was open, each side limping hanging down to the sofa.

The professor wasn't used to having anyone in his personal space, but was thankful when the witch toned down the hysterics. She looked completely rattled, and her once damp curls were now drying and turning into a cloud of frizz surrounding her face. At least she's calm, Snape reasoned, willing to throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry her back to her room if she kept at it. He had no Calming Draughts on hand and would easily set a Silencing Charm on her bedroom, allowing her to cry to her heart's content if she so wished, so long as it entailed him going to bed without hearing her.

Hermione wiped the remaining tears off her checks, yawning as lethargy began creeping into her limbs. She felt wrung out from every one of her emotions attacking her and leaving her out to dry, and Hermione was unable to think of anything else, she suddenly became so exhausted. Snape had moved to the other side of the room, and Hermione couldn't see him from her huddled position, although she heard pages being turned and surmised that he was reading.

She was surprised that he hadn't put her out right after snapping at her to stop crying. Pulling the ends of her robe around her body, Hermione pulled one of the flat, musty pillows from the other end of the couch and shoved it beneath her head. At that moment it didn't matter that the wizard who was known for his nasty temper and biting remarks was a mere few feet away from her. All Hermione could focus on was that her mind and body felt as if was aimlessly drifting to sea, leading her to a hyper relaxed state that would hopefully allow her to sleep.

The sound of pages being turned continued to softly reverberate throughout the room, a sound that was familiar and comforting to Hermione, and she moments later she fell asleep on the threadbare couch.
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Unintentional Inveiglement