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
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When I dragged myself into the kitchen late the next morning, Hermione was already awake, sipping coffee and reading The Daily Prophet. She indicated the pot of coffee on the stove and said, “I went to the corner store. Got a couple things. There’s bread in the cupboard if you want toast.”
I grunted in acknowledgement, poured a cup of black coffee, and flopped into a chair. She tossed me the section of newspaper that she’d already finished and went back to her reading. I was surprised to find myself rather enjoying the domesticity of the whole exchange.
After we’d finished the newspaper and my brain was suitably caffeinated, we headed back upstairs to the library. We settled onto the small antique couch, and I turned to face her. “So, Miss Granger, did you consider my question from last night?”
“Yeah, I did. My first thought was that there’s actually a lot it can’t do. For instance, there’s no magical treatment for cancer. Because cancer is just your own body cells that have gone rogue, so to speak, magic is unable to identify the malignant cells. Similarly, there’s no wizarding equivalent to procedures such as liposuction or breast augmentation. There are glamours you can cast, but those are just superficial. It’s nearly impossible to alter your body in any meaningful way without seriously endangering your own life. But I think the answer you’re looking for is that muggle medicine can treat curses or poisons that are resistant to magical intervention. I assume this was inspired by those pills I gave you and the improvements I made to your potion?” she inquired, grinning proudly.
“Quite right, Miss Granger. Perceptive as always. What I’m suggesting here is nothing less than a radical readjustment to our current school of thought. Wizards are notoriously dismissive of muggle technology, deeming it little more than cavemen banging rocks together. But, as you know, the advances muggles have made in the past few centuries have thoroughly outstripped those of wizards. Magic makes us lazy- discourages innovation. With the internet, for instance, muggles have access to virtually every piece of information in their collective history. It’s the democratization of knowledge.”
She looked at me excitedly, remarking, “That’s so true! I complain all the time about how ridiculously difficult research is in the wizarding world. Could you imagine if we had an actual database of information?? How much easier our lives would be! And if the library had a single system of organization instead of a half-dozen different types accrued over the centuries? But wizards are so stuck in the past!”
“Indeed. And fortuitously for us, there is no wizard less knowledgeable about muggle technology than the Dark Lord. He couldn’t recognize a security camera or a handgun to save his life. So what we’re going to be doing here is brainstorming. What are creative solutions to our problems? What advantages can we give ourselves? Defeating the Dark Lord by brute magical force is all but impossible. He is too powerful, too illusive, too well-defended. We must work to our strengths. Be Slytherins,” I smirked at her, and she giggled but nodded her agreement.
Hermione brought down the wooden box of books from her bedroom, and I pulled out a number of medical and scientific textbooks I‘d “borrowed” from her parents’ collection. She introduced me to these fantastic devices called sticky notes, and we proceeded to spend the next 9 hours skimming every single solitary book. We marked each section that seemed useful, and by the end, our pile of helpful books was over three times as tall as our useless books.
My favorite was a series of comedic instructional manuals called The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Guides. The entry on giving an impromptu tracheotomy with plastic drinking straws I found particularly delightful. We even had a number of fictional volumes: stories about war, survival in the wilderness, science fiction, even zombie apocalypses.
Our necks were cramping and our stomachs were growling by the time we finished the daunting task. We dragged ourselves into the kitchen and quickly threw together some sandwiches. I found a bottle of wine in the cellar and brandished it triumphantly. “YES,” Hermione moaned, “that sounds fantastic.”
We took our dinner to the library and went back to work. We sat across from each other at the table, eating, sipping wine, taking notes, and discussing our findings. Hermione got sillier as we progressed through the bottle, and by the end, I was having the time of my life. She was reading passages aloud to me, and I was responding with sarcastic quips. Her giggles were like champagne, bubbly, exultant, and intoxicating. She would toss her glorious mane of hair as she laughed, making my heart leap every time. Little pink spots had appeared high on her cheeks, and her eyes glittered like diamonds.
As the hours passed, she began yawning frequently and slumping lower and lower in her chair. When I noticed that her eyes were drooping, I told her to go to bed. She clumsily rose from her seat, yawning along the way. She squeezed around my side of the table on the way to the door. I had my nose buried in a medical text, so I didn’t notice that she hadn’t continued walking.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around me from behind, sliding around my shoulders and nearly encircling my chest. I jumped at first, then immediately relaxed. I allowed my head to lean against her narrow chest, and she rested her chin on my forehead. We stayed like that for quite a while; I could feel her heartbeat racing against my scalp the whole time. Her hair fell around my face, overwhelming my senses with the intoxicating aroma of Her.
It was the first physical contact with her that didn’t cause me to become overwhelmingly aroused. Instead, I found myself supremely comforted by her presence. She feels like home, I thought, relishing the experience. All of a sudden, she was tucking my hair behind my ear, and (OH MY GODS THIS CAN’T BE REAL!!) she was kissing me on the cheek! The kiss lingered for a few seconds, but far too quickly she whispered in my ear, “Goodnight, Sir.” She was gone in a flash, and I was immobilized by shock.
My cheek burned where her lips had graced me. My ear tingled from the sensual touch of her breath. I was so painfully erect that I felt light-headed from lack of blood-flow. I entertained elaborate fantasies of running after her, sweeping her into my arms, ravishing her lips with my own. Her mouth had been so velvety, burning with heat, swollen and succulent, I couldn’t help but imagine it wrapped around my cock.
The mental image of her kneeling before me was too much to handle, and I practically ran to the little converted study off the library that I used as a bedroom when I stayed at Grimmauld Place. I fell onto the the double bed, roughly yanking my cock out. I stroked myself to completion two times in a row, imaging Hermione doing a similar activity to herself in her room upstairs. Utterly spent, I stripped off my clothes and passed out immediately.
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Madrigal