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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
- 37
- 38
- 39
It had been more difficult leaving Hermione than Snape anticipated, especially when he kept seeing in his mind the tearful look on her face. But duty called and despite the fact that he might return to Hogwarts feeling like a member of the walking dead, he knew he had to go.

"Why are we being summoned?" Draco asked in a mildly worried voice as he walked alongside Snape.

For once in his life, Draco had actually followed Snape's instructions and had been waiting outside of the common room. The young man's grey eyes looked vacant and he seemed almost detached from his surroundings, yet the way he'd kept twirling his wand between two fingers, which only an extremely observant eye would notice were shaking, had immediately given away his nervousness. Snape had remained silent as they walked throughout the dungeons, up the stairs and out the tall, wide double doors of the entrance hall.

Once they'd walked out into the brisk night air, it seemed to revive Draco somewhat, and the reality of where he and Snape were going finally hit him. A few times the professor had to turn around to make sure the boy was still behind him, and each time he could have sworn that he saw Draco wiping the corner of his eye with his expensive travelling cloak. The moon had been hiding and the sky was completely dark, perfectly matching the moods of both wizards. Snape, however, had made the trek many times out of Hogwarts and had no need for wandlight; he knew all too well this beaten path that so often led him inevitably to harm.

"I know as much as you at the moment, Draco," Snape answered calmly, flicking his wand at the wrought iron Entrance Gates. The winged boars topping each column that flanked the gates appeared eerier than usual in the dark of night, like two archfiends guarding the entrance of some hellish place from where no man ever returned.

The two walked until they were well past the small guardhouse outside of the gate. Snape barely made a sound as he walked, while Draco was less stealthy; had anyone else been around, they definitely would have heard the younger wizard, who somehow managed to make noise even though there was nothing but grass beneath his feet.

Snape had no idea where he and Draco were to specifically meet the Dark Lord, but he had an idea of where they would end up. The Dark wizard preferred places that held an air of melancholy; a graveyard, forests that made the Forbidden Forest look like child's play, or houses that had been abandoned for so long one was able to smell the dust and decay, even past deaths if they sniffed hard enough.

Tonight was no different. Snape and Draco pressed a finger into their Dark Marks and waited for the sickening pull to take place. It only took a few minutes of free-flying through the night sky until they reached their destination. Even though they were absent of Death Eater's robes, they had both worn their cold metal masks and saw easily through the slits that they were the only two who had been summoned to meet with the Dark Lord. As expected, Voldemort was waiting for them in an eerie, unlit clearing in the forest, his skeletal form standing tall in flowing robes, the glow of his unnaturally pale skin making him look wraithlike as ever.

"My Lord," they both greeted in unison after vanishing their masks, stopping a few metres away from the sinister wizard and bowing low.

Snape was already used to the Dark wizard's frightening appearance. Draco had had less personal experiences with him although it was clear that he felt rattled, although he was doing his best to remain calm under the circumstances.

"Severus," Voldemort began, focusing his wide, scarlet eyes at the black-robed wizard whom meekly stood before him. "Draco...ahh, Draco. Just the wizard I need to speak to."

Draco and Snape were standing side by side, Snape making sure to keep eye contact with the Dark Lord. Draco seemed to be having more difficulty with doing the same, and his eyes nervously shifted in between setting on Riddle's face and the thin air beside him.

"I don't like to be kept waiting," Voldemort commented inauspiciously. His words were obviously meant for Draco as both red eyes were focused on the boy's extremely pale face.

"My lord?" Draco asked nervously, sounding as if his tongue had stopped working.

"I gave you a task, did I not? Why am I to understand that Dumbledore is still alive?"

"I..."

"Think carefully before you answer me, Draco."

Stealing a quick glance at the professor, as if Snape was his lifeline, Draco paused for a long while wracking his brain for a response that would entail him avoiding the business end of Voldemort's wand, as well as hopefully leaving away from this meeting in one piece.

"My lord, I beg forgiveness for the intrusion," Snape smoothly interjected, "but I assure you Draco has not been remiss in carrying out his assignment. The odds have been stacked against his favour but he has not forgotten his duties."

"Severus, I do hope you are making sure that the boy remembers where his loyalty lies. It would be a shame for him to land in the same position as Lucius."

Able to peek at Draco out of his peripheral, Snape saw the young man swallowing hard at mention of his shunned father. There was no way Draco would fly off the handle at Voldemort the way he had at Snape when the professor mentioned the elder Malfoy's name.

"But of course, my lord," Snape answered, giving a small bow and exposing the top of his greasy head.

"I want him dead, Severus," Voldemort hissed, uprooting himself and slowly circling the two wizards. "When I give an order I expect it to be carried out. I care not for excuses."

Withdrawing his wand without warning, Voldemort flicked it in Draco's direction and forced him to his knees. Fighting back a wince as he was unceremoniously brought to the uneven forest ground by means of Imperius, Draco kept his eyes lowered, too frightened to look up.

Voldemort went on with carrying a conversation with Snape, all the while keeping his wand trained on Draco, intent on keeping the boy in the cramped, uncomfortable position. Snape knew that this method was just another means of the Dark wizard exerting control over his followers, breaking them down so if they ever caught the notion to disobey, they would swiftly remember the possible consequences. Even though it was a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea, if Snape had to choose being put under theImperius and the Cruciatus, then he would go with the Imperius. At least Draco was just being forced to kneel, and while the gnarled tree roots beneath his knees were undoubtedly painful, it was nothing compared to the torturous, fiery pain of the Cruciatus.

Draco was left on the forest ground for another ten minutes, purely for Voldemort's twisted satisfaction, until he determined that the boy had had enough.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Voldemort crooned, standing over Draco who had fallen on all fours once the spell was released. "However, I went easy on your father. Do not disappoint me, Draco, for if you do then you will suffer a fate worse than his."

Without another word, Voldemort vanished into the darkness. Draco forced himself to stand up on wobbly legs, grumbling and pushing away Snape's hand when he moved to assist him.

"I don't need your help!" he spat, looking as if he were seconds away from losing the contents of his stomach to the forest ground.

Shaking his head, Snape stood in place while waiting for Draco to get his bearings together. The boy had finally stopped holding his breath, a feeling Snape was all too familiar with when he first joined the Death Eaters. One would have been a fool to not be afraid of the Dark Lord, especially since the wizard had zero tolerance for those who went against him. While Snape did a much better job at concealing it, he still had his own fears where the Dark Lord was concerned.

Snape had very nearly lost his own life when he stayed away after believing that the Dark Lord was gone. He'd paid for his absence dearly, and suffered damage that came by gnarled hand as well as wand from Voldemort. Snape had taken his punishment with no fuss, knowing the burden he promised to bear. If anything, being tortured had made him further play his role to the hilt.

"Vomit now if you have to," Snape told Draco, whom was still trembling and looking shell-shocked. "Then we will return to school."

Draco swore under his breath, but he ended up darting behind a tree anyway, producing loud retching sounds as his lost his composure. The blond still managed to look much too smug for someone who'd become sick, but Snape ignored this and turned on his heel to walk out of the forest.

Hermione had followed Snape's instructions without deviating in the slightest. With trembling hands she had taken off her pullover, jumper, and bra. Her jeans had been next but she had been so distracted that she pushed both legs down and wondered why she was unable to remove them until realising that her trainers were still firmly attached to her feet. Slowly unrigging herself of both items, Hermione stood shivering in the cool, dank air of Snape's room, clad only in her socks and knickers while mechanically looking around for a nightshirt.

She had never gone through the bureau in Snape's room or any of his personal belongings for that matter. That night was the first time he'd given her free reign to peruse his book collection; apparently that invitation had been extended to his bedroom, as he hadn't said exactly where his nightclothes were stored.

It only took a few minutes for Hermione to find said garment. Snape's socks and underwear had been neatly separated into two different drawers. Sleeveless vests were in another, and Hermione searched until she came across the stack of familiar grey nightshirts.

After slipping one over her quivering body, she climbed into bed and pulled the thick duvet up to her head. With only her in the room it had been entirely too quiet, and the absence of sound only further added to her malaise.

Sleep, Hermione, she'd told herself. Go to sleep; Severus will return before you know it.

But no matter how many times she'd chanted those words inside her head, sleep refused to come. Crookshanks was able to sense his mistress' distress and jumped onto the bed, curling up next to her.

"Crooks...you're the only one I can talk to," Hermione whispered to her cat as she gently stroked his messy hair. "I know that you won't tell my secrets. What if he's hurt? What if..."

Refusing to finish her sentence, Hermione bit down hard on her bottom lip but it did not stop the tears that were suddenly stinging her eyes. She didn't think that Severus was going to die that night; obviously Voldemort needed him for some reason. But it still did not thwart the many horrendous scenarios that nagged her whenever she knew Severus had gone to meet him.

Crookshanks offered support the best way an animal was able: he rested his bushy, squashed head close to Hermione's, as if silently consoling her. His deep purring eventually lulled her into a more quiescent state, but Hermione did not want to sleep until she knew that Severus had safely returned.

In the end, her overwrought brain caught up with her body, and Hermione was forced to shut her eyes.

Crookshanks had stayed awake long after his mistress fell asleep. It was clear that she was obviously distressed about her companion leaving that evening. He would have sunk his teeth into the wizard's hand to try and make him stay, but had a feeling that he would have regretted doing so. After all, the dark man was the one who protected his mistress. He was less boorish when she was nearby and more than once Crookshanks had caught him staring at her when she wasn't looking.

Not to mention that the man kept him well fed, scratched his favourite place behind his ears, and let him take as many catnaps as he wanted before the fire. His mistress' friends were often too noisy and he could not stand the orange freckled one, whom admittedly had his pleasant moments but mostly annoyed him just the same.

There was no point in thinking of the orange one's pet rat who really hadn't been a rat; Crookshanks knew from the off that the blighter was not to be trusted, and had no idea why it had not been obvious to the human boy.

At the present moment Crookshanks wished that he was on the prowl for vermin, as nightfall nearly always proved to be a fruitful hunting time. However, his presence had seemed to calm his mistress and he chose to stay next to her.

He had just settled his head on two crossed paws when she cried out and shifted in her sleep. The movement jolted him slightly without pushing him out of place. She soon went still but seconds later flailed again, this time accidentally shoving him to the floor.

The half-kneazle landed with a thump on all fours. There was no fire lit in the bedroom and even though he had been warm lying next to Hermione, Crookshanks did not want to get shoved again. Resigning himself to the cold floor, he was just about to pull down a length of black material that smelled like the missing in action wizard, when Hermione made another sound of distress.

Hopping onto the nightstand, Crookshanks peered over at the fitfully sleeping witch. Through the murky darkness of the room he was able to see her tangled up beneath the sheets, almost as if she were wrestling with them. It was nearly like the time he'd gone searching for the butterbeer corks that he'd hidden beneath Snape's bed. Crookshanks had trotted into the room only to find the two tussling with one another beneath the sheets. The noise they made was strange yet incomparable to an alley cat. Swiftly deciphering that the two most likely had wanted to be left alone, Crookshanks forgot about the corks, even though it had been hard to tune out all of the moans and grunts.

His mistress was making just as much noise now although her eyes were still closed, but it did not look as if she was enjoying herself. She always looked like she was enjoying herself whenever the dark man was near. Perhaps she also enjoyed having her head scratched the way he did. The dark man did give one hell of a head scratch. But whatever was happening now alarmed the half-kneazle because considering his small proportions, there was but so much he could do.

Grasping Hermione's hair between his teeth did nothing to wake her, nor did sweeping his bushy tail over her face. She snuffled a bit but went right on with whimpering, never once opening her eyes. Over and over she called for her wizard, and the cat wished he was there to comfort her.

Some small clicking noise from the front room suddenly drew his attention, and Crookshanks let go of Hermione's hair and leapt from the bed. The front room was just as dark as the bedroom but that did not stop him from easily finding the man.

Snape had collapsed into the armchair before the unlit hearth, shoulders slumped as if defeated, his head buried in both hands. While it was true that he had met with Voldemort in the thick of night countless times over the years, it still never made each ordeal any easier. Their meeting that night had been more trying than usual; with much distaste, Snape had remembered the Unbreakable Vow he'd made with Narcissa, which had forced him to jump between her son and the Dark Lord. That was risky enough and Snape had been fervently hoping that the Dark Lord would not see his interruption as an act of disrespect. At the same time, he had been reminded of his other promise previously made to Dumbledore.

His mind completely monopolised with thoughts of every coercive person in his life, Snape almost didn't notice the half-kneazle clamping his tiny sharp teeth down on the hem of his travelling cloak and tugging with all his might. The damned thing perhaps thought he was a lion instead of a half-breed cat, but he pulled hard enough that it finally garnered Snape's attention.

The wizard was too preoccupied to bother with fussing at the creature, but he did stand up and follow it into his bedroom. Immediately Snape honed in on Hermione writhing about in his bed while feverishly murmuring his name.

It sounded as if she was in the throes of a nightmare, something Snape could relate to although he never shared that with anyone, not even Hermione. Plenty of times he had literally shot out of sleep, upright in bed with his wand in hand, pointing it into the darkness. It wasn't likely that anyone would be able to get past any wards that he set up, but Snape had always been the sort to hex first and ask questions later. Yet each time he woke up brandishing his wand, he'd felt like an idiot, considering that the only thing moving in his bedroom had been the flickering flames at the hearth.

There was no telling if Hermione would wake up the same way, but Snape had no intention of finding out. Slipping his hand beneath her pillow and withdrawing her wand, he then roughly shook her shoulder until she awoke with a sharp gasp.

"Severus?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"

"Yes...no. Well, I am now that you're here," she replied in a cracked voice, shoving the twisted sheets and duvet back and kneeling up on her haunches.

Hermione's night terrors had cause her to sweat profusely and the too-large nightshirt draped over her frame was damp and rumpled. Shivering as she scooted closer to the edge of the bed to seek out Severus in the dark, Hermione let out a small exhale of relief when his fingertip swiped down her cheek.

"You've been crying. Why?"

The part of her face that Snape had just touched felt cooler when he moved his finger away."Have I?" Hermione asked, shocked when she brought her own hand up to touch a tear-streaked face. "I hadn't noticed...I guess it was my dream. I...I dreamt that you were dead."

Snape said nothing for several minutes as he stroked Hermione's hair. She was still shivering but had slumped against him, pressing her forehead to his clothed chest. Staring out into the dark, he continuously mulled over Hermione's last sentence.

He was far from being dead; miraculously he'd left the Dark Lord without receiving so much as a scratch. Draco had also been lucky, even if his knees were likely to range between blue and purple by morning. No, that evening the only battle scars Snape had been bestowed were mental. Although for a quick moment he'd feared the Unbreakable Vow making itself known had he not thrown himself between Draco and the Dark Lord.

Had Voldemort found out, he would have most likely killed them both. Snape knew that his role as Dumbledore's confidante was paramount to the Dark Lord's future plans. However, Snape never took that to mean that he could not be easily disposed of like so many others.

Are you ever going to stop crying? Hermione was now asking herself, feeling somewhat foolish.

No, was perhaps the best answer. Not for a long time, and definitely not while the peacefulness of the entire wizarding world was being balanced on a precarious edge.

Hermione hated crying; she hated for anyone to see her cry. There had been a time where Severus Snape was the last person on earth that she would shed a tear in front of, much less for him. Now he was the only one wiping them from her face. If she had to cry, she would rather do it in front of him, and have him be the one drying her eyes.

Ever since walking into the bedroom and accidentally waking Hermione, Snape had been a rigid pillar of a wizard, still tense all over from the events of that evening. That rigidness soon took the form of exhaustion, and he planted a brief kiss on the top of Hermione's head before pulling back from her to get undressed.

"Severus, where's my wand?" Hermione asked, straining to see where he was in the dark room. She had just slid her hand beneath her pillow and met with nothing but cool fabric. Not wanting to move in case it had gotten shifted between the folds of the sheets, she remained kneeling in that one place.

"I have it," Snape answered, his voice carrying over from the opposite side of the bed. "Give me a minute and I'll give it to you."

"How did you get it in the first place?" Hermione asked, feeling more at ease now that she knew her wand was safe. But after her hellish nightmare, she told herself that she would feel even calmer once Severus was next to her.

With everything that she had experienced up until now, a bad dream every now and then was to be expected. But her nightmare had been nothing short of horrific, and short of being Obliviated, Hermione knew that she would never forget.

She had dreamt that Voldemort found out about her and Severus. Hermione had been forced to watch her lover being repeatedly tortured while Death Eaters painfully held her back, sharp fingers digging into her wrists and neck. Draco Malfoy and his father were in the front, laughing as hex after hex had been cast upon a profusely bleeding Severus. Finally she had been allowed to go over to him, only for him to lock black, bloodshot eyes with her and take his last shuddering breath before dying in her arms.

That dream had been entirely too realistic and Hermione feared it had been permanently etched into her memory. Right before waking, the last thing she remembered was pressing her lips to Severus' wet forehead, tasting the coppery tang of his blood on her tongue. Everything had gone black and red; dark red blood on her arms, soiling her clothes and her hands wherever they touched Severus. The jeering, snide remarks of the other Death Eaters had faded to a buzz in her ears; they all faded into obscurity once Severus was in her arms, and the only thing she'd been able to focus on was him. Even Voldemort's presence no longer scared her in her dream once she realised that the man she loved had been taken from her.

No.

Oh no.

Don't you dare say a word to him.

Just as Hermione sat there arguing with herself, the hearth roared to life and cast a generous amount of light in her direction. Three am was typically not a time where Hermione worried about her looks; actually, it could have been three in the afternoon and she wouldn't have cared. But at the moment she knew she looked a frightful mess; her hair felt like it was all over her head and kept falling into owl-wide eyes, not to mention her shocking new revelation which most likely showed all over her face.

Part of Hermione wished that Snape had left the hearth unlit; right now she really did not need him to look at her. But after her nightmare, she needed to physically lay eyes upon him, to convince herself that he was actually standing before her.

Through the warm glow of the room, Hermione could see that Snape was pale as a sheet, otherwise he had no visible injuries that needed tending to. She briefly marveled at the way he had taken off his travelling cloak and suit in the dark, and then swiftly changing into nightclothes. Still silently appraising her wizard, Hermione didn't notice that Snape was staring at her until she refocused her eyes.

Nervously averting her gaze, Hermione preoccupied herself with restraightening the duvet while waiting for Snape to climb into bed with her. His stare continued to burn into the side of her face, and she desperately hoped that he wasn't using Legilimency on her. She didn't think he would do so without asking, but one never knew with Severus Snape.

"Drink this," he interrupted, holding a glass in Hermione's direction.

At some point he had filled a glass with water and was now waiting for her to take it. After her initial sip Hermione found that her throat was rather dry, and drained it with a few gulps.

"Now lie back down and close your eyes," Snape continued, plucking the empty glass from Hermione's hand and setting it on the nightstand.

Hermione did as she was told and shut her eyes once her head hit the pillow. But no matter how hard she tried to rest, sleep refused to come. Snape had no issues of the sort, and was snoring shortly after lying down. Perhaps he was exhausted, or maybe it was the feel of Hermione slowly pulling her fingers through his hair that put him to sleep. Either way, Hermione didn't mind not being able to rest; if she stayed awake, then she would constantly be reassured that Severus hadn't died, that he was lying next to her, his narrow back aligned with her front.

Making a mental note to remind the wizard about his own horrendous snoring, Hermione continued stroking his hair, slipping that same arm over his narrow waist when it became fatigued. Through his nightshirt she continued stroking the sharp-angled planes of his body, tracing her fingertips over his jutting hipbone and protruding ribcage.

A slight flurry of movement at the foot of the bed gave away Crookshanks, whom had just reentered the room. The feline looked as if he had taken his place on top of Snape's feet, but the professor was so worn out that he never noticed. A little smile touched Hermione's lips; trust her familiar to be able to make her smile even when being smack dab in the middle of a disquieting situation. Entranced by the sound of Severus' steady breathing, Hermione told herself to be grateful for small things; Severus was safe and in her arms, and her beloved pet sat at their feet. Considering the way things were going, she decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

Snape and Hermione hadn't exchanged many words the next morning. They did, however, remain in bed, indulging in the soothing quiet that was always present upon waking up. Perhaps it had been careless to linger about instead of hightailing it back to Gryffindor tower, but Hermione vowed to take extra precaution when leaving.

And besides, hadn't her own best friends told her that Sunday mornings were made for lie-ins?

But all good things had to come to an end, and with a heavy heart, Hermione dragged herself out of bed and gathered her personal belongings. Her clothing had been left in a heap in one of the armchairs before the hearth, as she had been too distracted the night before to properly fold them.

Snape had also shifted out of bed and was now standing at the doorway to his bedroom. He looked a bit haggard as he raptly watched Hermione getting dressed.

Even though they hadn't been physically intimate the night before, Hermione felt a bit shy as she remembered a certain four-letter word that immediately came to mind concerning the professor. She found it a bit difficult to look at him, but it helped when taking into consideration his rumpled figure. Snape's normally lank black hair was ruffled and sticking up in the back; his dark eyes were bloodshot and he needed a shave in the worse way.

The latter observance had been a moot point to Hermione; she had snuggled her face against his while they still lay in bed. She'd had to ignore the bristly scruff that scratched her delicate skin, but it was a small price to pay for stealing another close moment with her wizard.

"You know I hate this part," Hermione said plaintively, shooting Severus a sulky little look.

"I'd noticed," he replied, brushing back Hermione's sleep tousled curls when she moved closer to him. "You always draw out this part for as long as possible." Snape dropped both hands to her shoulders, resting them there for a while before doing up the zipper of her pullover.

"You never seem to mind," Hermione told him. She briefly considered reaching up to get one last kiss, but quickly shunned the idea, not wanting to get anywhere near Severus' mouth without first brushing her teeth.

Snape gave a small chuckle at that comment. Apparently he had the same idea about not kissing Hermione, but he did brush his tightly-pressed together lips against her forehead.

"That's because I don't," he whispered silkily into her ear, using both arms pull Hermione close and give her a brief, light squeeze. "Now off you go, Miss Granger."

The next few weeks passed uneventfully. Hermione hadn't gleaned much from the many textbooks she'd pored over while in Snape's room, and she, Ron and Harry were no closer to finding out what a Horcrux was. The Apparition test also loomed over their heads, and it was all the of age students could talk about.

Unfortunately, Ron failed his Apparation test and was in a sulky mood for a solid week. Hermione breezed through hers, and her jovial mood was dampened by the look on Ron's face when Twycross continued loudly praising her achievement. While she was happy about passing, she was unable to ignore the flicker of embarrassment for being made the centre of attention, especially since there was a handful of other students that had also failed and sent looks of pure loathing in her direction.

Harry had been in detention with Snape that morning, and upon returning to the castle, Hermione went straight to the library. She figured that Ron needed some time to sort out his thoughts, but at the same time, she felt herself getting angry. Why should she feel bad that she had passed her test and not Ron? She'd spent every moment poring over the leaflets that had been freely given with each practice lesson. It wasn't her fault that Ron tossed his leaflets aside, more concerned with snogging Lavender instead of committing to memory the tips and tricks recommended for wizards that were new to Apparition.

Complaining to Harry was not going to fly either; besides being cross for having to spend his every Saturday morning with Snape, he was doubly upset that he was not yet of age, thus being unable to take the Apparition test.

Hermione had little sympathy for Harry; she'd found out that he was using his defaced copy of Advanced Potion-Making again, even after vehemently claiming that he'd gotten rid of it. It was as if he had forgotten about the whole ordeal with Malfoy. But if Harry wanted to be hard-headed, Hermione vowed to wash her hands of everything. Harry told her that he was making an effort to stay away from Malfoy, but Hermione overhead him telling Ron when he thought no one else was listening, that he was still attempting to see what the blond was doing in the Room of Requirement.

Without bothering to point out to Harry that Snape had told him to stop snooping and to mind his own business, Hermione pretended that she never heard the boys' conversation. If something else happened, Harry being expelled the worst scenario Hermione was able to come up with, then it would be on his conscience.

In spite of being mildly irritated with both boys, Hermione reminded herself that they were still her best friend. Thus she found herself helping them revise for their upcoming exams.

It was no rare thing for her to be alone in the library on a Sunday afternoon. Hermione settled down at a desk to write out an outline of topics the three would need to memorise for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions and Herbology, which she would then duplicate to share with Ron and Harry. And Neville, whom had caught Hermione climbing out of the portrait in Gryffindor Tower, and asked if she minded helping him study. Notes and remarks were scribbled all over each parchment, even in the margins. With a bit of distaste, Hermione thought that her notes closely resembled Harry's defaced Potions text.

"Hi, Luna," said Hermione with a tone of surprise when she paused from digging through her rucksack for a new quill, looking up to find the blonde sitting at the end of her table. "What brings you here on a Sunday?"

Luna had been scratching her head with the butt end of her wand while frowning down at a book. As befitting the odd witch, today she wore several bracelets made out of tiny buttons. Her long, straggly blonde hair was tied back into a messy ponytail, exposing a pair of button earrings that matched her bracelet. Taking into consideration Luna's offbeat button jewelry, Hermione thought that it didn't look half as strange as the radish earrings.

"Hello, Hermione," called Luna placidly. "I'm helping Daddy to look for a spell to get rid of Scrougher mites. He says he can't find any spells that work and I'd promised to look in the library for him."

Hermione wondered what the hell Scrougher mites were but knew better than to ask. She was also tempted to ask if it was for her dad's tabloid newspaper, yet refrained. Hermione had once referred to The Quibbler as rubbish, and Luna hadn't taken kindly to that at all.

"Right. Erm, do you need some help?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Luna replied, still scratching her head with her wand and unblinking staring down at a book on the table. "Why are you alone? Did you and Ron and Harry get into another fight?"

"Not exactly..." Hermione trailed off, in no mood to elaborate.

Ron had finally come around, especially once she promised to help him with the next Apparition exam. Harry was still a bit touchy, but Hermione attributed that to him missing Quidditch, having detention every weekend, not being able to spend time with Ginny now that she was busy studying for her own exams, and Dumbledore constantly pressing him to find a way to get Slughorn to speak.

"Friends fight sometimes," Luna began sagely, "but you three always seem to come around. That's nice. I haven't got many friends to fight with, so at least you have that."

There we go with that uncomfortable honesty, Hermione thought.

"Say, Luna, maybe you can help me look for a few books?" she suddenly asked, eager to stop Luna from going off on a tangent. "I would really appreciate it."

"Alright," Luna happily agreed, sticking her wand behind her ear and rising from the bench. Hermione walked right to the stacks where she thought she might find what she needed. Luna immediately began pulling books down while chattering happily about something, what specifically Hermione didn't know as she found it hard to focus. The entire time, Luna's tiny button-bracelets round her wrist clacked against one another.

The girls remained in the stacks across the room for some time. When they finally returned to their work table, Hermione found a few books next to her things that she didn't remember seeing before. After perusing each title, it was plain that she had definitely never come across these particular tomes, but a quick flip through the pages told that they would be helpful with her studying.

While Luna was re-engaged with her Scrougher research, Hermione wondered where the new books came from, until she found a scrap of parchment resting atop the revision outlines she'd made for herself and her friends. Everything else had been left in place in the same order she'd left it, even her quill which had been hastily dropped down onto the table and left at a skewed angle.

'Are you going to wipe their noses as well?' read the parchment in a familiar, spidery handwriting.

Every word dripped with sarcasm. It was obvious who the note was referring to, as she had written Ron, Harry, and Neville's names on top of each revision outline. Panic took over for a minute, as Hermione began wondering if anyone saw the note's sender walking past. This was different yet thrilling, considering how she was never personally acknowledged in public, but all the same, Hermione found the unorthodox gesture to be touching. Furtively looking around to see if the black-haired wizard was still around, she was highly disappointed to see that he was nowhere in sight.

And that's the thing with snakes, Hermione laughed to herself. You may not see them, but they always see you.

A/N: ;) as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts! All of them, even if you think it's silly which let me say? I've yet to read one silly comment left on this story. I love hearing from everyone, and they make my sad wrist feel better :)
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Unintentional Inveiglement