Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130116 -:- 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
- 33
- 34
- 35
A/N: Please don't kill me for the time since my last update! A change in my work schedule gave one 3 days off then one day off, and then I still didn't have meds for mt wrist so writing was not an option. But...doctor says my wrist isnt' healing properly and I had a CAT scan yesterday so I'll see what he says when I go back next Tuesday. In happier news, I got a new keyboard and mouse. Why is this important? Because my old keyboard and mouse was wireless and FECKING ANNOYING AS HELL when the batteries began dying! Everyone, always go with wired, screw wireless. That is, if you're a computer rat like me. So I can now type with more ease which is beautiful.

And...this chapter is over 9.5k, and I have no idea how I edited it quickly...*looks at empty wine glass and then cup of Twinings English Breakfast*

I'm so mad that I can't reply to reviews personally, but I can thank you here so...thank you!!!

"Harry!" Hermione yelped, coming to an abrupt stop when she caught sight of him in the corridors. Harry's green eyes widened behind his round frames, curiously eyeing his best friend whom was standing in front of him, clutching an armful of books. Lavender was perched on the bench next to him, her mouth going a mile a minute, although it was clear that she was oblivious to the fact that Harry had long been ignoring her.

"Er, yeah?" he began cautiously, craning his neck to look up at Hermione.

"You said you were going to meet me in the library, don't you remember?" Hermione impatiently reminded, shifting the heavy pile of books to her other arm. "We were supposed to be researching that thing if you recall?"

Harry had been about to ask 'what thing?' but the look in Hermione's eyes made him immediately snatch up his rucksack which had been lying in a crumpled heap at his feet.

"Sorry, Lavender, but I need Harry to help me with something," Hermione told the blonde witch, who was watching the stilted exchange with her mouth hanging open.

"But we were in the middle of a conversation!" she spluttered.

"I know, but maybe you can finish later," Hermione suggested loftily." Oh look, there goes McLaggen; maybe you two can carry on. You both like Quidditch, right?"

"Let's go, Hermione, sorry I kept you waiting," Harry suddenly said, keen to get away from Lavender and McLaggen, who had also been harassing him at every turn and was now heading in their direction.

Ever since Ron had been poisoned and stuck in the hospital wing, McLaggen was all too eager to sidle up to Harry and point out that he could replace Ron's position as Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. McLaggen had been the second best player, but it was his attitude that put everyone off. Had Harry not been so distracted with following Draco Malfoy around, sure that he was up to something and aggravated because thus far he had been unable to find out what that something was, in addition to homework and being waylaid by Lavender Brown whenever she found him alone (Lavender never bothered Harry when Hermione or Ginny were nearby) then he would have tried to find someone else to play Keeper.

Lavender became sulky and McLaggen looked perplexed as Harry seized the pile of books from Hermione's arm and began dragging her away with his free hand.

"So, were really supposed to meet up to study or...?"

"No, and thank you for taking my books, by the way," Hermione answered, sighing in relief as she rubbed her aching bicep. "You just looked like you needed a bit of rescuing. What was Lavender going on about today?"

"I owe you, Hermione, really, " Harry replied gratefully. "I couldn't tell you what the hell she was babbling about if my life depended on it, to be honest. I think something about Ron not wearing that necklace she gave him for Christmas, and him always being asleep whenever she visits him in the hospital wing."

"What? I only saw Ron fifteen minutes ago and he was wide awake. Told us to enjoy class and he would try to enjoy his lie in."

"I bet he did," Harry laughed. "I left breakfast early to see him and he was awake then, too. I think he's a bit...what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Overwhelmed? Stifled? Suffocated?" Hermione helpfully suggested. "Like his you-know-what is in a vise?"

"Yeah, one with jangly bracelets," Harry replied. "I know Ron fancies her and all, but sometimes Lavender is a lot of work. But then again, what do I know?"

The two continued walking until they were out in the courtyard. Even though the day was uncharacteristically bright, the sun lent enough warmth to the afternoon where students didn't mind taking a stroll outdoors. Hermione settled onto one of the stone benches and cracked a book open, while Harry began chatting with Ritchie Coote, the tall, weedy Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Tuning out their chat which mostly consisted of flying strategies and the like, Hermione stared down at the opened textbook that was balanced on her knees. It was almost a week to the day where she had last spent time with Snape in the privacy of his rooms. Although she still saw him in class, the professor was just that: her professor, nothing more, nothing less. He was still the same Severus Snape, albeit with even more purple shadows beneath his weary eyes. Those dark shadows had seemed even more pronounced with Hermione lying atop the wizard, her faces mere inches away from his.

The Saturday before, Crookshanks and Hermione had stayed in Snape's rooms until nearly dawn. At some point she had woken up to find that she was still clutching onto the professor, only they were lying completely flat on what she guessed was the once uncomfortable sofa, then transfigured into a sort of plusher, wide cot. His hand had remained been curved around her cheek, although his fingers were lax. While Hermione had felt almost too warm for comfort, especially since she and Snape had both been covered with the blanket that he had obviously summoned from his bedroom at some point, she could not bring herself to push his hand away.

Feeling something else warm touching her, Hermione had craned her neck a bit to find Crookshanks curled up at the other end of the cot, sleeping on top of her and Snape's intertwined feet. Her shuffling around had slightly roused Snape and he stirred against her. However, his eyes had remained closed and he absentmindedly began stroking Hermione's cheek again in the midst of his sleep, and the sensation lulled her back into a deep slumber. Hours later she had woken to the unmistakable feel of Snape's early morning erection pressing against her hip. Hermione would not have minded had he turned her over to tug down her jeans and knickers, but was satisfied with merely feeling his arms around her. In the end, his erection had waned by the time his eyes fully opened. After a quick trip to the loo, Snape walked Hermione back to the dormitory, sans Crookshanks, as the half-kneazle had no plans of uncurling from his place on the end of the cot.

Sunday morning, after waking to the sounds of her chattering housemates, Hermione had remained behind in bed long after everyone had gone down for breakfast. Between Ron being poisoned, an event which most of her classmates were shockingly unfazed by, as well as schoolwork and her never-ending worries about Snape, Hermione's nerves were becoming stretched thin. Still, falling apart was not an option and she forced herself to maintain some bit of sanity.

Hermione still hadn't known the reason for her sudden outburst in Snape's room that night, although during the week, things began growing clearer. It had been Wednesday afternoon and Snape was going through his usual rigmarole in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Up and down the aisles he strode, both hands in each pocket like always, all the while going on in a smooth voice about witches and wizards who had been caught off guard and killed by Dark wizards. The professor spoke with what one might describe as levity, which was completely incongruous to the subject at hand. It had been then that Hermione realised why she had suddenly panicked and clutched onto Snape: she had been frightened by the idea of losing him.

Yes, the only promise Snape made to her was that he would do his best to look after himself, but the idea of what he was experiencing firsthand never left Hermione's thoughts. Tomorrow was not promised to anyone; Hermione had always known that, but the events as of late only reinforced that point. But her brain had long known what her heart refused to admit.

Thinking about something horrible happening to Snape while sitting in his class proved dangerous, especially when he honed in on the fact that Hermione was distracted. Calling to attention that Hermione was focusing on something other than the lesson, Snape rattled off a series of questions, which she answered promptly and correctly. Without bothering to say that Hermione was correct, Snape reprimanded her in front of the class for having her head in the clouds before demanding that she pay attention.

Of course, his Slytherins gloated at Hermione being chastised, while everyone else either glared at Snape or pretended to not have heard anything, not wanting to be the unpermissive professor's next victim.

Hermione had been annoyed, as she disliked being given a talking to, but she did give her undivided attention to the lecture after that.

"You know," Harry was now saying, having finished his chat with Coote and walked back over to Hermione, "I know Quidditch is a big deal, but I can't believe that Coote is the only one whose asked about Ron. The only thing that git McLaggen is worried about is showing off and trying to be permanent Seeker, like that'll happen."

"Are you surprised?" Hermione asked. "If McLaggen's head gets any bigger, it's going to need its own postal code. He's probably hoping Ronald will be infirm for the rest of the month, purely so he can—"

"Show off," Harry interrupted. "Like I said. I don't care if I'd have to drag Ron out of bed and shove a broomstick up his back to keep him propped up, because I'll be damned if I'm going to let McLaggen replace him."

"Well so much for him being ill!"

"Hermione, you know what I mean," Harry said exasperatedly. "I wished Ron never got poisoned. Do you know how scared I was in Slughorn's office, thinking that one of my best friends was about to die? I wouldn't even wish that on Malfoy, and I can't stand him."

"I know, you're right. I'm sorry," Hermione apologised, "It's just... all this has me worked up. Every time I turn around, I think something else is going to happen, you know? It's sort of like watching you during a Quidditch match, I don't know when to hold my breath or when to exhale. And let's not even mention the Goblet of Fire. I don't know how I slept at all."

"You know, it really is amazing that I forget how much of a worrier you are," Harry said, poking fun. "Do you really lose sleep over a little thing like me playing Quidditch?"

"Yes!" Hermione huffed. "You and Ron. But I think you both enjoying giving me a coronary, so don't even try and lie."

Harry sniggered; it was true, on more than one occasion he and Ron noticed the way Hermione jumped out of her skin when they took a spill on their broomsticks, and that had just been when they were playing a small game against Fred and George at the Burrow. A few times, Ron had suggested to Harry that they pretend to fall off their brooms, just to see Hermione jump. One time Harry had completely tumbled off his broom and landed on all fours, although that was purely accidental. Hermione had been watching from the back garden and shrieked in horror, positive that Harry had snapped his neck. When he jumped up, laughing and cursing at Ron who was grinning and hovering over him, she sat back down although her hands continued trembling for the next ten minutes.

Mrs Weasley hadn't been panicky as Hermione, and even laughed when she saw the distressed look on her face.

"They're boys, dear," she'd told Hermione."After having six of them, I've become used to the noise, the ripped trousers and the scraped-up hands and knees. Although, Percy was more of the bookish type, like yourself, but I suppose Ginny filled his shoes with that. Anyway, I've got a tonic for broken bones in my cupboard if needed. Give a shout if you need me to dig it out."

"Who are you playing next week?" Hermione now asked Harry, unable to remember. The only time she knew when a match was approaching was when students from each respective House talked about it in class or in between meals. Otherwise if Harry or Ron did not mention upcoming games, she always forgot. Both boys never took Hermione's disinterest as a personal insult; she looked at Quidditch the way they look at her frequent trips to the library. She did try, though, for their sakes. Hermione had even attempted a game at the Burrow with them a few times, but refused to fly higher than the crooked multiple-storied farmhouse.

"Hufflepuff," Harry answered, taking off his glasses to rub both eyes. "To tell the truth, they could cancel Quidditch right now and I could care less." Hermione looked so shocked at that comment that Harry gave a half-snort. "I know, I know, but I mean it. I'm worn out at practice; McLaggen's annoying the hell out of everyone and we can't wait to be shot of him. Not to mention being up to my ears in piles of homework that's waiting for me at the end of each day."

"I don't suppose you've stopped using that Potions text, either."

"No, Hermione," Harry replied hotly, "so you may as well just drop it."

"Fine," Hermione replied just as testily. "Don't even know why I bothered mentioning it. But Harry...I know there are spells in there that even I've never heard of. "

"And your point is?"

"You know what I'm getting at. I hope you know enough to not use a spell if you don't know what it's for." Hermione knew she was annoying Harry, because a sidelong glance was all it took for her to notice that his jaw was clenching although he was saying nothing.

"All right, Hermione, point taken," he finally grumbled. "Now can we change the subject?"

"OK, Harry," Hermione agreed. "And if you need help with the rest of your assignments, just let me know. I don't why you didn't say something in the first place."

"Hmm, maybe because I didn't want you to bite off my head?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she gave a short, humourless laugh. "Like that's stopped you before!"

"Yeah, and you always gets unbearably smug. And you have to admit that you've a tendency to act like a nutter."

Hermione reached her foot over and thumped Harry in the side of his leg. "Be quiet," she said, trying to suppress a grin. "If you want to see the reason for my battiness, go look in the mirror. And take Ron with you."

With Hermione not nagging him about the Potions text, Harry was much more inclined to carry on a conversation with her. The two finally parted after Ginny found them in the courtyard. Just as Hermione was on her way to the library, she passed Professor Snape in an empty corridor. Her heart leapt at the sight of the wizard, even though he wore a dismissive scowl upon his face. Snape didn't look at her; his eyes remained straight ahead as he continued on with his brisk canter, but it was that smoothly uttered 'Miss Granger' that came out just loud enough for only Hermione hear as they crossed paths, that nearly made her grin like an idiot.

Hermione was completely unaware that two black eyes were covertly glued to her frame as she hunched over a pile of books and parchment at her favourite desk in the library. She preferred to remain out of sight and either sat near the window or at one of the tables placed far away from the main stacks.

Now her curly head was bent so low towards her work that she could practically lick the parchment. Snape typically only came up behind select male students—usually it was always the same students— during study period that used the time to socialise rather than attend to their schoolwork. A quick shove at the back of their head was enough to direct their attention back to their books. For everyone else, a sharp glare was enough to convey his point. Rare had been the instance where he had to tell Granger to focus on her work, although the few times he did so, she was next to the chatty wizarding duo.

Refusing to allow the witch to catch sight of him, Snape hung far back enough while remaining close enough to notice the way half of Hermione's curls were caught beneath her collar. Some of the unruly corkscrew-shaped strands looked as if they were trying to spring free and tickled the underside of her jaw.

Half-tempted though he was to step forward and tug Hermione's hair out of her face, as he was sure she was unable to see the writing in front of her with those curls hanging in her eyes, Snape resisted, despite one particularly frizzy lock seemingly begging for him to reach out and twirl it round his finger.

Snape was curious to know how Hermione would react if he were to tell told her that she studied just like he did when he was a student: hunched over and appearing to be oblivious to everything going on. (Snape had learned early on that it never boded well for him to be actually be unaware of his surroundings and its occurrences, as that was when the Marauders chose to attack him. Though never Pettigrew, as he had always seemed a bit leery of Snape, but he damned sure got a laugh at his expense) The witch also seemingly carried around every book she owned; it had been hard to ignore the thump of her weighed down rucksack whenever it hit the floor in his classroom.

When Snape first began at Hogwarts, he didn't have a ruck for the longest. He had to literally scoop up his supplies each day and tote them around in his arms. Snape also chose the less trodden areas of the library to study in, although that hadn't stopped ancient Madam Pince (he used to think of her as Madam Pinch, because of her pinched features) from happening across his work area and chastising him for writing in the margins of his books. She also took that opportunity to point out the obvious, that he was always carrying his textbooks in his arms instead of a rucksack like the other students. The then eleven-year-old Snape had no reply to that comment; he didn't have a rucksack because his mum claimed she forgot, but he knew that there had been no extra money after purchasing his school robes, wand, and books. The stodgy librarian had gone away without another word, returning with a bag that looked fairly new. After thumping it unceremoniously on top of his desk with a curt 'Take this and use it before you break your back', Madam Pince skulked off again, most likely to go fuss at another group of students across the library who could be heard horsing around when they were supposed to be studying.

From an early age, Snape eschewed anything that so much as hinted at charity, most likely a habit picked up from his father. Oftentimes Tobias hadn't enough money for the household but had been too prideful to accept what he considered handouts. Severus had wanted to tell his father that that was all well and good for him to take the high road, but it was him and his Mum who were stuck at home with a bare cupboard. Of course, he knew better than to point this out and kept his mouth shut, not wanting to end up being knocked flat on his back.

The rucksack had looked fairly new, and it did turn out to be useful and more convenient than trying to balance everything in his arms when going between classes, and Severus used it until the seams began splitting. By then Severus had enough money to purchase things on his own, yet he never forgot the odd exchange between him and the arbitrary librarian, whom he only referred to as Madam Pince from then on out.

Speaking of the devil; Madam Pince was now crossing the room with an oversized tome in her arms. Either what looked like a first-year or a small older student crossed paths with her, and the elderly witch looked offended as though the child had no reason to be in her library. The young boy looked frightened and hurriedly ran in the other direction, and Snape was sure that Madam Pince now wore a pleased look on her shriveled face.

Old bat. Oh, wait, she's the vulture and I'm the bat.

The only reason Snape doubled back to the library was because he noticed Draco heading in that direction. Curiously absent of his band of goons, something that was happening more and more as of late, Snape had been surprised when Draco settled down at a desk in a quiet end of the library and took out a book. Of course, it was a mystery as to if the boy was actually reading it, but as long as he was doing something that did not involve harming another person, Snape was all for it. Seeing Hermione had been an unexpected yet pleasant surprise.

Only now another student was making his way across the library and in her direction, and the sight of said student was almost enough for Snape to offer his condolences.

While Neville Longbottom was not as pernicious as Seamus Finnigan, both boys shared the tendency to cause devastation, as demonstrated more times than Snape could count in Potions class. Slughorn could often be heard complaining about the two to other professors, and whenever Snape overheard the older wizard's griping, he never attempted to conceal his amusement.

It was obvious that Longbottom was asking Hermione for help on what looked like the essay for Defence. While he had half a mind to butt in and make the boy do his own work, Snape was not in the mood to subject himself to Longbottom's gibbering state which was what he was always reduced to whenever the professor came within ten feet of him.

No, Granger had more patience to deal with the likes of Longbottom, and Snape left the two to carry on.

When Saturday rolled around, nearly all of Hogwarts was present for the Quidditch game. Hermione usually went down to the pitch with Ginny, but since she was playing that day, Hermione ended up going with Luna. The blonde had on her Spectrespecs and a necklace made of butterbeer corks, and was getting odd looks from other students as the two walked. Hermione glared at anyone that dared to say anything, but Luna, like always, was lost in her own world and paid no mind to the strange looks.

Luna also didn't pay any attention to the Quidditch game at hand when it finally started, and this was a bone of contention for Professor McGonagall, as Luna was appointed commentator for the day. Trilling on about everything except for details about the game, Luna's dreamy voice filled the stands as she rattled off at random. Several times McGongall had actually leaned across Hermione to snatch the megaphone out of Luna's hand and yell out the score in a brogue that was thicker than usual, perhaps because of impatience.

The entire thing was funny, although the hilarity was short lived when Harry could be seen yelling at McLaggen. Peering through a pair of binoculars, Hermione noticed that Harry looked absolutely livid while perching midair on his broomstick.

Even though three months had passed since Slughorn's Christmas party, the memory of McLaggen pushing her against the wall was still fresh in Hermione's mind. While she never wanted anyone to get seriously hurt, whether they were in Gryffindor or not, Hermione secretly admitted to herself that she would not mind terribly if McLaggen got roughed up a bit that day. Judging by the looks of it, several of his fellow teammates also had the same ideas, as they shot the bulky wizard murderous glances whenever he came in their direction.

Luna's commentatorial was apparently still not up to scratch for Professor McGonagall, because she ended up nudging her out of the way and taking her place in the podium. Luna looked sore at having to give up her place, but McGonagall snapped at her while trying to keep her eyes on the players at the same time, and she finally took a seat next to Hermione.

"I don't know why McGonagall made me move," said Luna, craning her neck to look up at the sky. "I don't think I was doing a bad job. Do you?" she asked, now looking at Hermione, her blue eyes enlarged behind the thick lenses of her Spectrespecs.

"Err..." Hermione trailed off, knowing that now was a good time to keep her mouth shut. "Oh look! Gryffindor's scored again!"

Hufflepuff was doing their best to get another goal, when Hermione noticed McLaggen doing something else she was sure would make their captain brassed off. The meddlesome idiot had taken one of the Beater's bats and was swinging it around. In spite of being on a broomstick, with his bulky frame he looked like a caveman swinging around a club. Hermione might not have known the ins and outs of Quidditch, but she did know enough to be sure that a Keeper had no business with a Beater's bat, since his main focus should have been the red Quaffle.

Which had just soared past his ear.

Harry was beside himself and Hermione knew that if she were close enough to him, she would most likely hear him swearing at McLaggen. Three minutes later, it was McLaggen's interference that cause Gryffindor to lose the game.

Once again he had taken Jimmy Peakes' Beater's bat and was swinging it around, only this time he mis-hit an oncoming Bludger and sent it straight in Harry's direction. The crowd gasped; Hermione's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch as she saw Harry fall off his broom and careen down to the ground. McLaggen was still on his broom, looking as if he had egg on his face, while an annoyed Peakes and Coote raced to save Harry from splitting his head open.

McGonagall forgot about the game; she was too busy berating McLaggen over the megaphone. Having McGonagall yell at you was one thing, but to have her chastisement amplified and broadcasted over a whole arena was a different story. McLaggen at least had the grace to looked embarrassed over his blunder, but with Harry out of the game, the Hufflepuff Seeker caught the Snitch with ease and the game was shortly ended.

"Well, I didn't see that coming," Luna commented as she and Hermione walked back to the school.

Harry had been taken back into the changing rooms on a stretcher, and then removed to the hospital wing. He stayed unconscious the entire time, and Hermione had gone sick with worry. Then when she heard Luna speak, the only thing she could do was look at her and those silly oversized glasses. Had she been in a better mood, Hermione would have replied that she didn't know how Luna couldn't see the galaxy with those thick lenses, but she was so beside herself that the only thing she could do was fight back a sob.

"He's going to be OK, Hermione," Luna told her soothingly.

"He could have cracked his head open!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head as if forcing the very thought out of her mind.

"But he didn't," Luna pointed out.

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied, although that affirmation did nothing to unclench the knot in her stomach.

Madam Pomfrey would not allow anyone into the hospital wing to see Harry, something that wasn't a great shock. So Hermione spent the remainder of her day in the common room, listening to the rest of her classmates abuse McLaggen, blaming him for their Seeker's injury and the loss of the game.

"You bleedin' idiot!" Ginny screamed at McLaggen soon as he slithered out of the portrait hole. "Were you trying to get someone killed!?"

Advancing on McLaggen until he had no choice to step back, something that shocked Hermione as well as a few of the others as McLaggen completely towered over Ginny, he hit the wall and remained spluttered angrily at being subjected to her insults.

Ginny went on to using a few more choice words that made even a few of the portraits hung on the walls cover their ears. Apparently McLaggen had also been shouting criticism at her during the game, and it was evident that Ginny hadn't been unable to lay into him right when the game ended, because now she was giving him an earful.

"Come on off, Ginny. Just leave him alone." Demelza Robbins, who played Chaser that day, was trying to plead. She was the sort that hated confrontation and was tugging on Ginny's elbow, trying get her away from McLaggen, but Ginny merely swatted her hand away as it were an annoying gnat.

"Why? He's not going to do anything," said Ginny challenging, her brown eyes flashing angrily, "because if he even tried, I'd hex his balls off!"

"What else was I suppose to do?" McLaggen shot back, nostrils flaring as he began to rear up like an angry bull. "We were losing and I didn't want—"

"Oh, that's bollocks and you know it!" interrupted Coote, who had been standing nearby with his arms crossed. "You were trying to bloody show off and you know it. You cost us the game and nearly killed Harry. So much for teamwork."

"Yeah, and nearly killed us trying to catch him," Peakes muttered from behind him.

"Yes, thank you for that," Ginny said in a tight voice without turning her head, still staring down McLaggen. "Useless tosser," she added in disgust before stalking away from a red-faced McLaggen.

Ginny stomped up to the girls' dormitory, unaware that Hermione was right behind her. Stopping at her bed, she began pulling off her dusty Quidditch robes and chucked each item onto the closed top of her trunk.

"You all right?" Hermione asked gently when Ginny plopped down and began yanking at the laces on her brown trainers.

"Yeah," she admitted grudgingly, finally freeing both feet and kicking the trainers to the side.

"I remember when you were too shy to even speak when Harry was around; now you're threatening to castrate others on his behalf."

That seemed to bring Ginny around, because a small smile could be seen through her long curtain of red hair partially hiding her face.

"Dean was next," Ginny told her bitterly. "Did you hear him going on about how funny Harry looked when he fell off his broom?"

"No!"

"Well, he was. D'you know Dean asked me out too? Even though he knew Harry and I are going together. I just don't get these boys. Anyway, I'm starving and I need a shower. Want to sneak down to the kitchens with me when I'm done?"

Hermione told her yes, and that she would wait for her up in the dormitory. McLaggen had gone somewhere, most likely eager to avoid further abuse from his housemates. Though it was still noisy down in the common room and Hermione could hear the loud, mingled voices of her classmates rehashing the Quidditch game and the twenty ways McLaggen annoyed them. While she waited for Ginny to come back from her shower, Hermione thought about the way she had stepped to McLaggen and yelled at him. She couldn't lie; it had been satisfying to watch the petite witch verbally assault the much larger wizard and bring him down to size. Either McLaggen knew about Ginny's prowess with a wand when it came to throwing hexes, or maybe he knew that her older brothers would somehow find him and rearrange his face, because McLaggen had shut up after a while and let Ginny rant at him.

Thinking of her own saviour who indirectly got revenge for McLaggen putting his hands on her, Hermione wondered where Snape was. It wasn't as if she would be able to sneak and see him any time soon; the common room was packed with her housemates and it wasn't likely that they would be going to bed within the next few hours.

Unless she could sneak Harry's map out of his trunk...

But the trip to get the map proved fruitless. It took Hermione all of two minutes to run over to the boys' dormitory and see if anyone was inside. It was completely empty, and she made her way to Harry's trunk. Rooting through its usual assortment of dirty socks and sweet wrappers, her search came up empty.

Damn, Hermione silently griped as she walked back to the girls' dormitory.

There was definitely no way she could sneak down to Snape's room. Perhaps Harry had previously planned a bit of his own sleuthing because the Invisibility Cloak was gone as well. Hermione reasoned that she could Disillusion herself, but even then it was a tossup as to whether the professor was even inside the school. She hadn't seen him all day, although he only ever attended Quidditch games if Slytherin was playing.

Typically Hermione was able to excise patience, but right now was not one of those times. It was becoming quite clear to her how feeling something for another person could put one out of their comfort zone, as displayed by Ginny when she confronted and threatened McLaggen, as well as Lavender going mental over Ron. Most people would get upset when someone they cared about was hurt, a feeling that Hermione was all too familiar with. Ginny did a better job of controlling her emotions than Lavender, while Hermione did not have the luxury of letting anything show unless she was alone. No one would understand why Hermione would become upset over Severus being hurt, and even if they had, she still would not have divulged.

Hermione ended up not seeing Snape that night, but she did spend the remainder of her day with Ginny. It was clear that the redhead was worried over Harry, even without her saying so. Figuring that it was hard to have her brother and now boyfriend in the hospital wing, Hermione did her best to try and take things off Ginny's mind.

When the two first met, it seemed that they didn't have much in common. It wasn't until Hermione and Ginny were a bit older that they became closer, especially since they slept in adjacent beds either at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. Where Ginny had been somewhat reserved at first, it wasn't until after nearly losing her life in the Chamber of Secrets that she grew a bit more confident. Ginny had openly admitted to bristling at the sight of Harry and Cho Chang together, and it was then that Hermione told her that Harry would come around, that she should see other people and just be herself. Prior to that, it had been Ginny who told Hermione that she needn't kill herself with trying to make everyone forget that she was a Muggle-born witch, that she was just as good as anyone else at Hogwarts, and didn't her grades reflect that?

Hermione had been surprised that Ginny offered so much insight when she barely said anything on the topic before, but realised that the younger witch had a point. And Ginny hadn't been nasty about it, either. Even during Hermione's fourth year, when Mrs Weasley all but accused Hermione of chasing after Viktor Krum while confusing the china-cup fragile minds and hearts of Harry and Ron, it had been Ginny to tell a crestfallen Hermione to ignore her mum, that she sometimes had nothing better to do than to follow the gossip in rubbish magazines.

"Mum's going to go spare," Ginny was now saying. She and Hermione were tucked into a corner of the common room. Only a few of their housemates were still lingering around, most of them having already gone up to bed. "First Ron gets poisoned, now Harry gets hurt."

"I suppose, but it was Mrs Weasley who told me she was used to your brothers banging themselves up," Hermione replied.

"Yeah, but between everything going on here, not to mention Fleur staying at the Burrow and driving her round the twist whenever Bill isn't home, she is not going to be happy. Ugh, Hermione, you should have heard Fleur trying to sing at Christmas! It was bloody horrible; my ears are still swearing at me."

Ginny then launched into an impromptu , warbling off-key version of Fleur's lilting voice in song, and Hermione almost snorted the milk she had been drinking up her nose.

"Ginny!" she chortled, trying to snort milk out of her nostrils. "That's horrible!"

"You're telling me? I'm the one that had to sit there and listen to that shite all week. Then Mum didn't want to be left alone with Fleur, and you know it's hard for me and Harry to find alone time with Ron around. Do you know how many times we were about to have a snog when Mum called me down to the kitchen to 'help her with dinner'? I was ready to tell Fleur to piss off purely so I could have a bit of peace."

"So I guess things between Bill and Fleur are getting serious?"

"So it seems," Ginny replied, rolling her eyes and holding both arms above her head, making exaggerated swaying motions with her hands. "But anyway, enough about la sorcière blonde ennuyeuse. See? I've even picked up a thing or two being around her. How are you?"

"I'm all right."

"Are you really, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned at Ginny over the lip of her goblet while draining the remains of her milk. "Yes. Why, do I not look all right?" she asked after wiping her mouth.

Ginny shrugged. "Sometimes you do, and then sometimes you look even more out of sorts than usual, like that time you swore up and down that you failed every final exam. I thought for sure you were going to have to be sedated."

Hermione half-laughed and cringed at the memory. She had spent nearly every waking hour revising and then almost had a panic attack once all their finals were finished. Visions of herself flunking out of Hogwarts as well as regular school, and then making a living by lugging around a carryall with pencils or knives and going door-to-door to sell her wares kept flooding her mind. To make matters worse, Fred had told Hermione that if she didn't pass her classes that she could come work with him and George whenever they opened up their joke shop. That had been two years prior to them actually having a shop, and the thought of selling 'new-and improved' Puking Pastilles to have enough money to buy groceries and cat food until she was old and grey, as she was sure she would end up a cat lady, had made her hysterical. The twins as well as Ron had laughed uproariously when Hermione looked horrified. Harry had tried not to laugh, but Ginny yelled at everyone and told them to leave Hermione alone.

"No, I'm fine. I guess I'm just overwrought about everything and then trying to study...it's a lot to deal with," Hermione finally answered.

"Well I know you have Harry and my brother to confide to," Ginny continued, "and I know they just love a good heart-to-heart. But if you ever need another pair of ears, I'm here."

Ginny smirked and Hermione laughed, as both girls knew that Harry and Ron would run away at the first hint of deep and meaningful conversation. While they offered good advice at times, both boys would usually try to find out what was wrong and then go about the best way of fixing it, never mind hashing the ten-million what-ifs about the situation. Besides, part of Hermione's stress entailed the secret life of Severus Snape, and she wouldn't even tell God about what she knew.

"Thanks, Ginny. I do appreciate the offer," Hermione told her.

"No problem," Ginny replied through a yawn. "But I'm knackered and I need my bed. Are you coming up?"

"Not yet. Goodnight."

"'Night, Hermione."

Harry and Ron were released from the hospital wing that following morning. Ron tried to feign still feeling ill when he thought about the upcoming amount of homework that he would receive that week.

"Yeah, you don't look so hot," Harry replied. "In fact, I think I'm still a bit under the weather, too. Maybe we should–"

"Oh, knock it off, you two," Hermione cut in. "You're both perfectly fine, else Madam Pomfrey would have made you stay.

Things swiftly nearly went back to normal. Harry's meetings with Dumbledore continued, although Hermione had to hide her outrage when she found out how the headmaster made Harry feel somewhat ashamed when he said that he had still been unsuccessful at obtaining the memory from Slughorn. Even Ron had been shocked that Dumbledore mentioned nothing about him being poisoned or Harry's skull nearly being split open: he was only concerned with that fact that Harry still did not have the memory.

"You know, I never thought about how the pawn in Wizard's chess might feel," Ron commented. "But now I think I do."

If Harry agreed, he didn't say so. Hermione definitely agreed but was shocked to the point of silence by Dumbledore's dismissal for both of her friends' wellbeing.

Then again, how many times had Snape returned from a meeting with his back and chest sliced open from multiple hexes, his blood staining his hands and shirt? If Dumbledore was not concerned about a person bleeding out, a person whom he supposedly trusted above all others, why would he be worried about a poisoned wizard and another who hit his head?

The next week, it had been Hermione's turn to be annoyed with Harry. She, Harry and Ron were in the common room finishing their homework. Actually, Hermione had long finished hers and was looking over Harry's essay and then helping Ron to finish writing his. Just as Ron was nearly done, a loud crack echoed throughout the common room, and Dobby and Kreacher appeared.

Dobby looked odd as ever, with a tea cosy on his head, while Kreacher wore scraps of rags that seemed to be filthier than usual. Hermione was still leery of Kreacher, remembering each time he tried cornering her off at Grimmauld Place. The surly house-elf kept looking at his gnarled toes whenever Harry spoke, but Dobby immediately ran over to the trio, happy to see them.

A few minutes of conversation was enough for Hermione to learn that Harry had asked Kreacher to follow Draco Malfoy around. Dobby had been ecstatic to volunteer for the job, and turned out to be the only helpful one of the two house-elves. Ignoring Kreacher's incessant fawning over Malfoy and his delicate pureblood features, Harry questioned Dobby and found out that Malfoy had been making regular trips to the Room of Requirement. That tidbit of knowledge made Hermione's indignation at Harry's usage of both house-elves short-lived. Kreacher calling her a Mudblood before Disapparating out of the common room also helped things along.

With Harry's suspicions now heightened tenfold, his Marauder's Map and Cloak barely left his side. The last time Hermione saw Snape in private had been the night where they fell asleep in his front room on his transfigured tatty and uncomfortable sofa. The few times Snape did show face in the Great Hall for meals, he either ate a little or merely picked over his food— Hermione could never tell, sitting at a distance— and then took his leave.

Continuing with her nightly Prefect patrols, sometimes with Ron at her side, Hermione hoped that Snape would happen across her on those evenings when she was alone, but it never happened. Hermione tried not to take his absence personally; she knew that Snape was dealing with things that he could not share with her. She got the impression that he wanted to talk to her, perhaps as form of catharsis, but the words never came. It was if something was eating away at the professor, some dark thing lurking in the corner of his mind and waiting to sink its claws and razor-sharp teeth dug into the sinews of his wiry body, and only she, besides the professor, was able to sense it.

That unspoken, unnamed thing was part of what drove Hermione's need to see the professor, and not just in passing. She had picked up on his agitation that night, even though it was she who had been on the verge of tears. Hermione hazily remembered waking up at one point, her face still pressed against Snape's neck. His cravat had still been in place, and the silky black fabric had been cool when her lips first touched it, soon growing warm from her breath. One of the round buttons lining his frock coat had been pressing onto the clasp at the front of her bra through her jumper, yet those small uncomfortable things hadn't been enough to make Hermione move out of the haven of Severus' arms.

Even though she tried to tell Snape to go to sleep, it had been a while before slumber actually came for him. Hermione could tell that he was still awake by his breathing, although his grasp around her body never slackened. Whatever he had been thinking about, Snape's thoughts were nearly loud enough to completely obliterate the silence in the room. In all actuality, the only sound had been the crackling fire at the hearth and the occasional contented purr from Crookshanks.

But even if Hermione was unable to see Snape, she tried to find other ways of making his life easier. The next Defence class, both Harry and Ron became lippy towards the professor when he asked how one would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost. Hermione knew the answer and Harry's had been weak even if logically sound, yet Snape used that as an opportunity to embarrass the young man. Ron immediately jumped to Harry's defence, which caused Snape to take points from Gryffindor while also shaming Ron by publicly addressing his unsuccessful attempts at Apparition.

Noticing the wicked gleam in Snape's black eyes, Hermione immediately knew that the professor was on the war path and in no mood to be trifled with, although it was plain that he enjoyed Harry and Ron's discomfiture. She just managed to get her best friends to keep their mouths shut when they opened them to retort, knowing that they would only get more points taken from Gryffindor as well as end up with detention. Her reasoning was not completely altruistic; serving detention with Snape on the weekend meant less of a chance that Hermione could see the professor. While Harry and Ron would have been grateful to not serve detention with Snape, if they found out the other reason why Hermione was so against it...well, it was best to not think about that.

However, Hermione soon got her wish of having the professor close to her again, although she definitely did not foresee the circumstances surrounding the event.

It was dinnertime, although Hermione wanted to stop by Professor Vector's office to ask a question about an essay she'd turned it. Promising to meet Harry in the corridor, the two parted ways. Ron had left them a few minutes earlier, claiming the need for the bathroom.

Professor Vector laughed when she heard the knock on her door followed by Hermione's curly head peeping around the corner. It was customary for the studious witch to often second-guess herself when it came to her schoolwork and like clockwork, Hermione made an appearance. Appeased once she saw the bright-red five out of five in the top right-hand corner of her parchment, Hermione exhaled and thanked the professor before dashing off to meet Harry.

Hermione waited in the corridor, idling near a painting of a drowsy-looking hippopotamus floating in murky green water. After fifteen minutes there was no sign of the messy-haired wizard, and something told Hermione that Harry had gone up to the seventh floor to see if he could catch Draco in the Room of Requirement. Really, the entire thing with trying to catch Malfoy was getting out of hand; even Ron said that Harry was obsessed. But they could not ignore everything Dobby had relayed, and admittedly were curious as to how the blond was spending his time.

Put out and out of breath by the time she climbed several moving staircases, almost forgetting to jump over one of the tricky steps that made one's foot go right through it, Hermione began asking herself why she even bothered to try and track her friend down.

"Halt! You mangy cur—oh! Excuse me, fair maiden, I did not realise it was you standing there."

Sir Cadogan had been portrait hopping for reasons known only to him, and was now in a painting with a gaggle of puppies at his feet. Their little furry white bodies milled about the floor, all of their tails wagging as they moved forward to sniff at the odd man who came to visit. Upon seeing Hermione he had unsheathed his sword and held it out, only lowering it once she turned to face him.

"Hello, Sir Cadogan," Hermione greeted, almost at a loss for words at the sight of the fully bedecked knight completely surrounding by small poodles. "I should have just gone to dinner," she muttered, ignoring Sir Cadogan's flowery speech and peering down the empty corridor. "Harry can play detective if he feels like it, I have no need to get involved."

Just as she was about to tell Sir Cadogan goodbye, that she was looking for her friend, Hermione noticed a piece of parchment lying face down on the floor two feet away from where she was standing. Its creases and folds looked familiar, and without thinking, Hermione walked over and picked it up to find that it was indeed Harry's Marauders Map.

Something seemed completely off, as Harry would never just leave his precious map hanging around, and Hermione frantically began looking for his dot. Not three feet away from where her dot was, Hermione found Harry's as well as Draco Malfoy's dot together in a boys' bathroom.

Knowing Harry's penchant for diving headfirst into things, Hermione took off running, dropping her rucksack in the process. Something didn't seem right; putting Draco and Harry together in a room on a floor that was practically abandoned screamed 'bad idea'. Sticking a lion and a tiger in one cage would most likely prove more peaceful than either wizard.

Her suspicious were confirmed when a succession of rapid footsteps were heard behind the bathroom door, followed by two male voices shouting hexes and jinxes and foul swear words at one another.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, flinging the door open and running inside.

A cistern had been smashed and water completely covered the floor; remnants of what looked like a lamp lay among the mess, and a pile of glass from a shattered mirror lie near the basin.

"What are you doing?! You'll be expelled!" she shouted, nearly colliding with Harry when she saw him about to fire another spell at Draco.

"Hermione, get out of here!" Harry thundered, crouching down and looking to see where Draco was hiding. His trousers were soaked although Harry paid it no mind as he sloshed through the waterlogged floor.

"Harry, let's go!" Hermione shouted once more, only for Moaning Myrtle's voice to join hers.

"They won't! They won't stop!" the ghost squealed, having just popped out from one of the stalls. "They won't listen to me!"

"Please, Harry!" Hermione pleaded, trying to pull him away. It was bad enough that the two were duelling in the bathroom, completely destroying it in the process, but if they were to be caught, Harry would be expelled for sure.

Just as Harry was about to yell at Hermione again, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye and fired another spell, causing a loud bang and creating a hole in the tiled wall. Suddenly, it was like watching a train wreck happen right before her eyes, only Hermione didn't realise what happened until it happened. Draco had darted out from another side of the bathroom and fired a hex at Harry and Hermione's direction, only it missed Harry and hit her squarely in the chest.

Hermione immediately staggered before dropping to her knees, her hands clawing at her neck and chest as she fought for air. Harry and Draco went on with their fight; Moaning Myrtle was still yelling hysterically, and Hermione fell to all fours, her hands now smacking against the water covering the floor as she desperately tried to get air back into her lungs.

I'm dying, oh god, I'm dying!

Unable to inhale or exhale even a wisp, it felt as if her lungs were caving in on her, and the edges of Hermione's vision grew fuzzy. Finally on the verge of blacking out, she didn't notice when Harry cast his final spell, sending Malfoy down to the drenched floor with a ribbons of his blood swirling in the clear liquid and making grotesque shapes around her hands.

Snape left dinner early that evening. He wasn't all that hungry; he was more suspicious as to why Draco had not showed up at the Great Hall. His black eyes quickly scanned the room, and found that Hermione as well as Potter were also missing. Weasley was present, as it was practically sacrilegious for the boy to miss a meal. He was steadily shoveling food into his mouth while talking to his sister.

Years of teaching experience had told Snape that when students were missing in action, without a valid excuse such as being infirm, they were up to no good. Plenty of times he caught couples kissing, some bolder ones even attempting to go further than awkward teenaged groping over their clothes.

Snape knew that Potter and Malfoy were doing anything but kissing; more like killing one another. The professor had never given up following Draco around. For the last few days, he'd encountered the wizard in abandoned areas of the castle. Twice he overhead the young man sobbing, and knew that Draco was alone, as he would never cry in front of anyone, not even his mother. Giving Draco privacy and the opportunity to retain what little dignity he had left, Snape left the boy in the boy in his little cubbyhole, never giving away the fact that he had been standing less than a foot away.

After getting up from the staff table without a word to any of his colleagues, Snape used the door behind the dais to exit the Great Hall. He was just on top of the landing at the first set of steps when one of the portraits told him to make haste to the boys' bathroom on the sixth floor.

Snape always deemed Sir Cadogan the Knight as a useless lump. He was more bluster than bite, as much as a portrait could bite, and prone to making an obscene amount of noise whenever someone was nearby. However, he proved to have some purpose that day as he scampered through each painting in aims of finding one of the professors.

"Bad form these young men have!" Sir Cadogan called behind Snape as he rushed up the staircase. "Do you not teach these children how to have a proper duel?"

For fuck's sake, Snape thought disgustedly as he hurried up to the sixth floor. As suspected, Draco and Potter were together, and no doubt casting hexes at one another. Snape knew for fact that Bellatrix had been teaching her nephew Dark magic, and took slight comfort in knowing that Potter could in fact handle himself, rather, he was skilled at dodging curses. Even if Potter knew Dark spells, it was a mystery as to if he would be able to carry through with using them. Not if he was like...her, who wanted nothing to do with Dark magic. Annoying as Potter was, Snape grudgingly admitted that he had a lot of ways like his mother, even if he did not know it.

Yet when Snape flung the bathroom door open, he found a trembling Potter, his wand still out in front of him, looking completely detached from everything around him, a bloodied Draco, pale and prone and barely conscious in a flood of murky reddened water with his wand half-floating next to him...and a completely unconscious Hermione with both arms outstretched in front of her, hunched over almost in a macabre prayer position, as if she had been kneeling to face Mecca, her wild curls and white shirt soaked completely through with Draco's blood and water still rushing from the broken cistern.

I don't do cliffhangers, because they make me crazy and I want to hound the author until they update again (and I totally won't take offense if you curse me out lol trust me, I can take it.) BUT for what I plan on writing next... it fits better next chapter. But I will be updating again this week so no worries :D
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Unintentional Inveiglement