Because you heard me right | By : Velveteenbunny Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 5231 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: All characters and the world belong to JK Rowling...not me...sadly, Harry Potter Fandom, and all characters stipulated in this are also not mine. I do make any money or profit from this, all copywrite belongs to jl Rowling, Bloomsbury |
“Three months!” Hermione exclaimed when she settled down to read the copy of Advanced Potions making from her trunk and flicked to the recipe of Amortentia. By the time she had managed to brew this potion Snape would have moved on to something different to torture her with. Still what option did she have? She needed to earn his respect before she left Hogwarts and brewing Amortentia she knew would at least draw a tiny shred of credibility towards her Mudblood name. The potion she had taken from Fred and George although affective was only a weakened version that she could not in any way pass off to Snape as her own creation.
When making the Polyjuice potion in her second year, the trio had used Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. This seemed the most viable option as even though the bathroom was no longer out of order, the superstitious and facts surrounding Myrtle was enough to put any female off using these facilities, the preferred to wait or wet themselves!
With her cauldron and book under her arm and ingredients hidden in her robes Hermione trundled up to Myrtles bathroom, since the chamber of secrets was opened the bathroom had a continuous smell of mouldy leaves and the eerie feel of something amiss.
Hermione set up her cauldron in one of the stalls, gone were the days when she would brew a Polyjuice potion in the middle of the floor with her knickers on show. Myrtle was not inhabiting the bathroom at this point she must have been floating around somewhere she was a lot more vocal these days after making friends with Harry.
Carefully following the book to the letter she added the first ingredients to Amortentia, here we go she said mentally and magically sealed the toilet door before heading outside.
“Bloody Quidditch, bloody rubbish, going to lose again”, Snape grumbled to himself as after breakfast he headed down the Quidditch pitch for the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. Saint Potter would be there flying for his team and Malfoy would be if you could call it flying against him, Severus knew as he did every time that the house was going to lose, he really didn’t get his hopes up over these matters anymore it was only a game.
Pushing through the crowd and wrapping himself more tightly in this cloak and scarf Snape made his way to the Slytherin stand surrounded by the students in his house. “Urgh smells like teen spirit”, he muttered to himself as he sat down at the front of the box facing the Gryffindor stand.
shop when the students shopped he had little or no patient for that kind of rubbish. He had seen Hermione leave early and she was one of the stragglers that were arriving back to the castle just before curfew. He could not let her go unpunished again, he had slipped twice when it came to Miss Granger allowing her to head back to her common room because of the look in her eyes, his sentiments were affecting his reputation with the Granger girl and thus affecting the way he was acting around her. It had to stop he had to burry these confusing feelings before they became more dangerous than the Dark Lord himself.
The snow that had continued to fall during the night now fell lightly on the Quidditch pitch marring Snape’s black hair with specks of white and then melting into dew drops. As the match came into play Slytherin as usual began their usual dirty tactics, Snape rolled his eyes and pretended he didn’t see the Slytherin beater whack a Bludger at Ron Weasley guarding the goal posts who had to swerve the ball catching his shoulder. The Gryffindor stand erupted in cries of boo and he was certain he heard bastard coming from Ginny Weasley above his head. He glanced up and Ginny glanced down, winced and zoomed off before Snape could pass comment on her profanity. “As if I could be bothered”, Snape muttered to himself, he felt like swearing himself watching the appalling play in front of him, especially from his team. He hated to admit it but the Gryffindor side played fair at the very least. Allowing these pro Gryffindor thoughts to take a hold he allowed his eyes to stray across to the Gryffindor stands directly opposite. Searching frantically he looked for her amongst the group of screaming teenagers; she being one of them was off to the left wearing a white Nordic scarf and Russian hat. She was screaming with the best of them egging on Potter and Weasley with each breath. Her cheeks screamed scarlet whether with the cold or exertion he wasn’t sure, Snape found it pleasant all the same, she did look pretty out in the cold in a snowy back drop.
“What is Snape staring at?” Hermione muttered to Luna who had appeared at her side, once again wearing her roaring lion hat.
“Beg your pardon Hermione, but it appears to be you. I know for certain he is not watching the match”.
“What makes you say that?” Hermione asked.
“Well the fact that Malfoy has just nearly knocked Harry out of the sky has escaped his notice and he’s still staring over here in this general direction”, Luna said dreamily looking over and meeting Snape’s eyes who flinched and looked back at the match.
Hermione frowned and tried to concentrate on what was occurring before her. Gryffindor was thirty points up and Harry was frantically searching for the snitch as a blizzard began to rage over the pitch. However, she could not stop herself glancing in Snape’s general direction to see if she could catch him looking at her again, yet he chose not too it seemed that Luna’s cursory stare had down the trick and Snape remained looking angrily at the match. This became a look of pure rage as Hermione saw Harry swoop down and drag the snitch from midair winning the match to a hoard of Gryffindor cheers, Hermione amongst them.
Hermione made her way back to castle alone after the match, she walked dreamily revelling in Gryffindor’s victory and something else, she wasn’t sure, she felt warm besides the blasting snow that was tangling her curls. Skipping up the steps to the main doors, she misjudged the top stair and slipped tumbling back down to the snow below.
“Fuck”, she hissed under her breath.
“Now Miss Granger must I keep feigning deafness whenever I am forced to witness your house muttering profanities within my ear shot?” Severus Snape loomed over her blocking out what was left of the remaining daylight.
“Why who else was stupid enough to swear in front of you?” Hermione grumbled, tried to get up and slipped back down again, “Fuck”. She clapped a hand over her mouth in pure horror that she had done it again directly in front of Snape this time and loudly. Hermione looked in pure fear as to what punishment she was going to receive. Snape’s face was still for a moment then he laughed a deep booming laugh that radiated throughout the castle grounds. Hermione in her shock had to bite her tongue to stop herself yelling ‘what the fuck’ at him, Snape did not laugh, he did not smile and he very rarely grimaced.
“Get up Miss Granger”, the laughed had died from his face and the stone expression remained once again, Hermione wondered if she was going crazy from her fall until his glove had held out for her mittened one. Still in a dream like state she let her hand clasp his, it felt strong sturdy. Reassured by his grip she allowed herself to be pulled up onto her feet falling slightly into his robes. She was glad of the burning wind on her cheeks there would be n way for Snape to realise she was actually burning with embarrassment at how she enjoyed the feeling of security just his hand had given her, imagine his full arms. Brushing the thought aside she began to thank him, with a wave of his hand he dismissed any half formed words she was endeavouring to stutter in favour of his usual storming off leaving Hermione stood on the top step edging her way into the carpeted castle.
The common room w as inevitably full when she got back, Gryffindor’s victory was once again being celebrated in style, but with her cheeks still burning with embarrassment Hermione desperately wanted to escape to her room and think about what miracle had just occurred the second of them she had experienced in the last few days. Plopping down on her bed and unwrapping her scarf still in shock Hermione tried to force her mind into some form of sense. ‘Severus Snape had just helped her, willing, he had picked her up, he had held her hand and she had liked it’. Endeavouring to suppress a rising giggle Hermione rolled over and fully laughed, she laughed until she cried and then she sobbed with misery at her plight before returning to a sitting position once again to think.
Now he was angry, if he hadn’t been angry about being caught staring at the Granger girl he was fuming now that he had gone and physically touched her. Still even through his anger a glimmer of hope waned, she had not snatched her hand away nor had she looked at him in revulsion, she had simply accepted his hand and gripped him back. She had accepted him as someone providing her with help rather than an angry ugly dungeon dwelling death eater. Snape slammed into his rooms removing his wet things; a soft coo from the corner of the room caught his attention. Fawkes the phoenix was signalling attention from his perch in the corner. Since the death of Dumbledore Snape had taken on the role of Fawkes’ carer and he secretly enjoyed it, the phoenix was becoming increasingly beneficial not only to his work but to his own physical injuries that still flared up. True that it was the phoenix tears had healing powers they would not work on old wounds merely pacify them in the form of a painkiller. Letting his aggression die for the minute he stroked the soft feathers of the animal and was again reminded of Hermione’s touch. It didn’t matter that she had been wearing silly animal mittens and he leather gloves he could feel her skin burning through the fabric warming a hand that had not been touched in so many years.
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