Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To Be Alive	By : Snapeoutofit Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 10343 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: All characters and settings are the creation of JK Rowling. I own nothing of Harry Potter and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 1
- 2
- 3
Severus Snape brooded as he let the door slam behind him. It had happened again. It had happened for the third damn time.
Three times in the last three weeks he had literally run into Hermione Granger. Fucking unbelievable.
He let himself fall into the brown wing back chair by the fire. He raked his fingers through his hair before scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Snape tried to calm his body and his mind. He told himself “I am fortunate to be alive” again and again in his head as he used his fingers to work out some of the kinks in his neck. Realizing he was still completely worked up, he rose from the chair with a sigh. He walked over to the bookshelf along the fireplace and settled back in his chair with a large, tattered book. Knowing exactly to which page he meant to open the parchment, he began reading. After several minutes of being so distracted by his anger that he kept rereading the same passage again and again, Snape slammed the book shut and placed it on the coffee table before retrieving his frock coat and storming outside for some fresh air.
“Fucking Hermione Granger.”
SSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHG
Ron and Harry dragged their friend into a small little cafe around the corner. They settled into a table beside the window before noticing the previous occupant’s full teacup and payment had not yet been cleared from the table. A server quickly rushed to their place and cleared away the remnants of the last guest before placing a new tea service on the table.
“My apologies. We are short staffed this afternoon.” Hermione gave her an understanding smile and the girl bustled away without a second glance. Hermione looked at the tea service before them and began filling their cups.
“Blimey Hermione did you cross a black cat or walk under a ladder to get this bit of bad luck? Running into Snape on a weekly basis doesn’t seem a fit punish for any crime you possibly committed.” Ron lifted the too dainty cup to his lip. Hermione had always gotten a kick out of watching men drink out of fancy china teacups. She took a sip from her own cup before returning it to its saucer.
“It is the oddest thing,” she began, “not only does the man seem to be coming from wherever I’m going, neither of us ever seem to notice until we’ve made right fools of ourselves.”
Harry rubbed his temple and said “I’d never believe this was all coincidental if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m quite certain that you’re the last person he’d want to be running into on a daily basis. I think the only thing he’d hate more would be to start running into me.” Hermione smiled at her friend’s comments, agreeing that the random coincidences were quite odd.
After finishing their tea the three said their goodbyes. Hermione returned home to her London flat and began preparing her evening meal. As inconsequential as it was, she couldn’t help but think about how remarkably random their chance meetings had become. If she were running into anyone else so often she would have thought it hilarious, but she found running into Professor Snape to be downright uncomfortable. The surly man simply didn’t have the decorum to handle an awkward and unwanted encounter.
As Hermione settled into her couch to eat her meal, however, she became painfully aware of the fact that she could think of nothing else but the endless loop of their run in’s playing in her head. When she realized she couldn’t even focus on her reading, she decided to clear her head by taking a brief walk in the park down the block. Hermione put on her coat, tucked her book under her arm, and trekked outside into the brisk early autumn air.
SSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHG
Snape had been walking and walking for longer than he had intended. He had forgotten how wonderful the cool air felt against his patches of exposed skin. He rubbed his hands together for warmth and sat down on a park bench. While his frustration had subdued, he could not help but feel exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day. Snape has just stretched his legs out on the sidewalk in front of him when he heard a little yelp and felt someone trip and fall nearly into his lap; her small hands clutching the tops of his thighs to help herself stand up. As she recovered, she leaned against him while she stood between his splayed thighs. He noticed the book she’d been carrying had flown from her hands and into the grass behind him.
“Bloody hell. It’s you again?!” Snape spat through gritted teeth and Hermione could sense that he wanted to yell, but resisted.
Hermione began dusting the dirt from her clothing, and sardonically replied, “Surely the pleasure is all mine.” She stepped back away from him and retrieved her book from the damp grass. She hugged the book to her chest, unsure of how to respond. Should she run away? Of course not, she wasn’t a child, but she still had no clue how to proceed.
Snape stared at her as she clutched her book to her chest. His eyes traced the outline of her body against the dimming sunset. His eyes settled on the textbook in her hands.
“Potions: Process, Product, and Practicum” he recited aloud. “A lovely book. There are some great potions in that one; some that we don’t commonly use anymore.”
Hermione stared at him.
“What” he spat.
A blink. Stare.
“Bloody hell, girl. What are you staring at?”
“You,” Hermione stammered. “I mean, it’s just, we’ve run into each other a few times now and all you’ve done is snarl at me.”
“Snarl? Like some kind of animal? What makes you think I snarl?”
Hermione bit back the laugh that escaped her. Snape looked at her dumbfound. She sat on the bench beside him and saw his body tense slightly. She opened her book and flipped to find the right page. Once she did, she held the book out toward her uncomfortable companion. Snape looked at the book as if it offended him, and she jiggled it in his direction, indicating that he should take it.
Snape took the book and reviewed the page before looking at her for instruction.
“Surely you’ve made this version of Dreamless Sleep before. The recipe makes me think it’s stronger than what is commonly brewed today.”
“Of course I’ve made this countless times. And yes, it is stronger.” Snape made to pass the book back to Hermione but instead she reached over, flipped the pages from the corner, and opened to a new page.
“And what about this? I’ve hardly seen anything like this. It seems to allow for the suspension and collection of people’s dreams for use in a pensive. So one can view and analyze the dream later. Don’t you think this would be perfect for PTSD therapy?”
Snape stared back at her dumbly.
“I was thinking,” she continued, “that one might combine the Dreamless Sleep potion with this Dream Harvesting potion in order to analyze and experience their dreams externally without having to feel them during sleep. I’m not sure if it’ll work though. The ratios in the recipes don’t match up, and I’m not sure how some of these ingredients will react with one another.”
Snape stared at her while she spoke. It didn’t seem like she noticed his staring any longer. She was clearly lost in her own meandering brain. Did she realize how the excitement in her voice carried through the air like a song? And the way the sunset made it look like a literal light bulb had gone off above her curly head? Did she realize how he couldn’t take his eyes off her hands and the way her delicate fingers curled around the book’s binding?
“Professor Snape? Professor? Do you think it might work?” Her gaze was fixated on him. Her large doe eyes bore into him as she eagerly awaited his thoughts on the subject.
Snape abruptly shot up from the bench. He looked at her with sad and confused eyes. He looked as if he wanted to say something, as if he was carefully choosing words that could not leave the end of his tongue. Then he looked like he wanted to run. He let out a small sigh before he turned and set off in the direction from which he had come, leaving Hermione alone on the bench.
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To Be Alive