Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The New Life	By : lilith395 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14593 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter and I don't earn anything from these stories.

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A/N: Okay, so I didn't make it yesterday. Here it is though. I'm afraid it's not such a great chapter but I hope you enjoy it either way.

Curiuoser and curiouser

Breakfast is… well… Hell. To me, that is. Hermione seems to enjoy it immensely. The dining room, which has been added in the renovations after the war, is packed. To accommodate me, a chair has been transfigured and pushed somewhere in between William Weasley and a child about three years of age, who I have found out from his incessant ramblings, is named Fred Weasley. The uncanny resemblance in both physical and mental features is not at all lessened by the portrait hanging behind us on the wall, in which the original Fred Weasley keeps proclaiming, quite proudly, that his nephew is the most handsome lad in the world because he takes after his uncle. Merlin, these people are starting to give me a headache.

“Hey, psst!”

It’s not all that weird on its own that I can hear the whisper, however its quite curious I can hear it over the raucous the rest of the family are making.

“Psst, Professor!”

Looking up, the back of my chair flush against the wall for lack of space, I notice the aforementioned, highly annoying portrait trying to catch my attention. It’s not too hard though, the thing is right by my ear. Where the red hair of the younger version of Fred Weasley stops, the freckled neck of the older one starts.

The eldest Weasley brother on my left turns around, his spoon full of scrambled eggs and flicks it at the portrait.

“Leave the Headmaster alone, Fred.” He says, before turning back to his food and his conversation with the very pregnant, and to me most unexpected, Daphne Greengrass, who seems to have attached herself to that oaf Ronald.

“Oi, no fair! I just wanted to ask him what he’s doing with Hermione, not like nobody’s wondering. And can someone wipe that vile stuff off my frame?”

He says, trying to bat the egg off the end of his nose and eventually settling for moving to a connected portrait on the other side of the room, unceremoniously bumping someone who seems to be his great-grandfather out of a very comfortable looking armchair.

“Well?” He asks, touching his fingertips together while resting his elbows on the armrests. I settle for glaring at him, though it doesn’t escape my notice that the entire room has gone quiet.

“That glare doesn’t scare me anymore, professor.” He chuckles. “What are you going to do, kill me? Oh, wait…”

The insolent boy smirks, and I wouldn’t be a Slytherin if I didn’t match it. However, I barely raise my eyes from my plate, cutting off a piece of meat and languidly chewing it before answering.

“No, I wouldn’t, even if you had still been alive. However, Remus is able to tell you what happened to the last portrait at Hogwarts that annoyed me. I believe Albus spend months trying to find a new entrance to the Gryffindor common room. There’s a reason the Fat Lady fears me, you know.”

From three places across the table I can hear muffled laughter, and judging from the audience I believe it’s Remus, who was there that day, Andromeda, who was at school at the same time, and Miss Greengrass, or Weasley now, I imagine, for the story is still told in the Slytherin Common room every year.

And yet it seems amazing that I am in company of about 30 people of which only three know the story.

At the head of the table Molly sits frozen, staring at me in horror.

“You wouldn’t”

Well, no, of course I wouldn’t. But how many times have I threatened to kill those twins when they were still in school? I wouldn’t have done that either, would I?

I look up and give her an incredulous look. I raise my eyebrow for good measure.

“Really, Molly? You think me that cruel?”

She chuckles a little. “No, of course not”

It’s just a shame she doesn’t sound like she means it. However, with the portrait of Fred Weasley, and his live twin in front of him plotting their revenge to an empty threat, I know at least some of them have accepted my presence. Even if that acceptance comes from a dead boy and the three-year-old currently trying to tie my shoelaces together in a big knot. Though my headache has subsided a little, there is one line from a book I read when I was little which keeps haunting through my mind. Curiouser and curiouser. I make a mental note to mention that to Hermione later, I believe she might appreciate the reference. Even if she’s the only one who understands it in this room.

A/N: thanks for reading, hope you liked it^^
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