Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Amphitrite	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 9420 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer:
The Harry Potter universe is not mine; the only things in this story that are
mine are the plot and the OCs.

�Miss?�

No
response.

�Miss! Could you please stop that?�

Hermione
Granger snapped to attention, confusedly tearing her eyes from the blurred
countryside outside the train window and refocusing them on the man that sat
across from her in the compartment.

�Hmm?�
she said airily.

�Your leg. You keep tapping your leg.�

She
looked down at her leg. Sure enough, it
was bouncing slightly; her nervous energy was radiating out of her through the
ball of her foot and her tensed calf muscle.

�Oh. I�m sorry.
Didn�t even know I was doing that,� she apologized, flushing
slightly. She got up and repositioned
herself so that the offending limb was tucked underneath her.

�It�s
all right. I just�that bothers me,� the
man said, shrugging. �Are you nervous
about something?�

Now
there was a question. She was only going
to one of the biggest excavations of magical artifacts to be discovered in the
last decade. A massive repository of
magical things � wands, cauldrons, enchanted objects � had been found beneath a
beach on the coast of Greece after a cave-in.
Thankfully there had been a few wizards on hand, including one
quick-thinking Turkish wizard who obliviated the
Muggle bystanders and cast some temporary repelling spells. It had given the proper authorities time to
arrive, and the site was now secured.
Experts from all over the world had poured in, and she�d been asked by
one of her University professors (a specialist in ancient charms) to assist in
the excavation � an internship of sorts.
Not even the Imperius could have made her say
no.

�I�ve
just got a very good job opportunity, is all,� she said, smiling. The man nodded, looking as though he
understood.

�Good
luck,� he said, favoring her with a smile of his own.

�Thank
you.�

There
was a lull in conversation for a while, but it was not entirely
uncomfortable. Hermione returned her
attention to the window for a few minutes, staring in unabashed awe at mile
after mile of glittering coastline.

�Where
are you from?�

�England,� Hermione said, once again tearing herself away
from the view.

�I
thought so, from your accent,� he said, nodding. �Do you think you�ll be here long?�

�I
hope so,� she replied, her heart once again speeding up at the very thought of
all the relics under the sand.

�Hey,�
he said, biting his lower lip slightly, �my name�s Anatole. Perhaps some night I could take you to
dinner��

�Hermione,�
she filled in, feeling her cheeks heat up.

�Perhaps
one night I could take you to dinner, Hermione?� he finished, not even
stumbling over her name. She glanced at
him; he was pleasing to the eye, as she had found most Greek men were. Tall, very tan, with dark, neatly trimmed
hair, honey brown eyes, and a physique that hinted at a very healthy lifestyle. Of course she had to get settled in at the
site first, but what harm would it be?
She hadn�t had a date in a while.

�Sure,�
she said, smiling warmly.

�Great!�
he exclaimed, clasping his hands together.
�I�ll show you what the Greeks are all about.�

�I
think I already know,� she laughed.
�I�ve seen that movie, after all.�

�What
movie?�

�The American one.�

�Oh,
Greek Wedding or whatever it was?�

�Yes,
that�s the one.�

Anatole
tipped his head back and laughed.

�Well,
not all of us roast lamb on a spit in our front yards. And we know what a bundt
cake is. And I�d kill my sister if she
ever made her bridesmaids wear a dress like that. I will admit that we like our ouzo, though.�

�I
don�t believe I�ve ever had ouzo.�

Anatole
gave her a mock-horrified look.

�Well,
we�ll have to fix that, won�t we?�

�I suppose
so.�

From
there they fell into an easy conversation full of good-natured flirting. Eventually Anatole
came over to sit next to her, and within a half an hour their legs were crossed
towards each other, their knees bumping occasionally. Anatole was an
entertaining storyteller, and she burst out giggling more than once when he
related anecdotes about his siblings, complete with voices, hand gestures, and
other hilarious impersonations. He
seemed pleased that he could make her laugh and grew a bit bolder, touching her
occasionally in innocuous places � her shoulder, her wrist, her knee. She found herself focusing on his lips as he
spoke. There was definitely some
chemistry here.

It
was a four hour train ride, but the last two hours went by in a blur. As they neared the end of the journey, Anatole programmed his phone number into her cellular
phone. She wrote hers on a scrap of
paper, which he put in the back pocket of his jeans.

�You
probably won�t be able to reach me when I�m at work,� she warned. �Cell phones don�t work there. So I guess you�ll have to wait for me to call
you.�

One
of his eyebrows arched, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

�I
see. Well, don�t break my heart,
Hermione.�

�I
won�t. But it might take me a while to
get settled in, so��

�So
don�t expect a call for at least a week.�

She
nodded apologetically.

�I
understand. You�re a working girl,� he
said, winking and flexing a bicep.

They
continued to banter until the train slowed and stopped. He helped her with her luggage and squeezed
her shoulder slightly when he saw her off.
She climbed into the taxi and waved at him as it pulled away.

For
a little while, she didn�t think of anything.
But about ten minutes into the ride, she found that she was lonely. Anatole�s presence
was�warming, to say the least.

Perhaps
it would be less than a week before she made good use of her phone.

* * * * * *

The
sun was sinking low on the horizon when she finally arrived at the site. It was quiet and no one was about, at least
no one she could see, but she knew it was the right place by the faint hum of
magic that surrounded the tranquil beach.
The enchantments and Muggle repelling spells were masterful. She, even as a witch, could not see where the
cave in was until she stepped inside the magical boundaries. As she did a hot tingle coursed through her
body; the shielding spell was set to scan everyone that went through. She smiled at the fact that her presence was
expected. She�d dreamed of a situation
and an opportunity like this, and now here she was, right in the thick of it.

She
glanced around, dropping her bags into the sand. She could see the edge of the large fissure a
few hundred yards to her left. A twinkle
told her that the sand along the edges had been melted into glass to stabilize
it. She pulled her sweater on and rubbed
her arms through the cotton. The breeze
had picked up and the sun was an egg yolk on the horizon.

The
ocean air smelled wonderful. Hermione
had always regretted that she�d lived inland most of her life. She would have liked to spend her summers on
the shores of southern France, like some of her rich classmates had. Better yet, she would have liked to grow up
along a briny shoreline, getting sand in her bathing suit and going home
crusted in dried salt with a handful of dusted-off seashells. She would have liked to poke stranded
jellyfish with a stick, and to run after scuttling crabs, to have seaweed
tangle in her curls, and to dive under the waves as they broke.

The
beaches of France had been beautiful, but they had been pebble
beaches. All she saw here was mile after
mile of pure white sand, sand that was like velvet against the soles of her
feet.

She
kicked off her sandals and began a sedated stroll down the coastline. Perhaps everyone was off eating dinner
somewhere; it was about that time, her stomach dutifully reminded her with a
growl. She would gladly have joined them
if she only knew where to go.

So
she kept walking, stopping only when she made it to the gaping hole in the sand. She couldn�t see much since the light was
fading, but it excited her nonetheless.
Had she been in a more adventurous mood, she would have gone down and
poked around. But it was her first day,
and she had to make a good impression.
Going down there uninvited and unsupervised was not the way to go.

She
walked further still, wondering how large of an area the wizards and witches
had marked off. She counted each step
she took, watching as the moist sand squelched between her toes and glancing
back at the solitary pair of tracks she left.
Hermione looked up one hundred paces later, and nearly jumped when she
spotted another person about a quarter of a kilometer away. She hoped the person was still inside the
boundaries of the site; that way, he or she could tell her where to find her
Professor.

As
she got closer it became clear that it was a man. He was sitting with his back to her, clad in
a short-sleeved white shirt that was obviously unbuttoned since she could see
the edges fluttering in the wind. His
lower half was clad in black pants, either rolled up or cropped to
mid-calf. Bare feet and just a hint of
darkly tanned leg showed, and as she watched, he absently buried his toes in
the sand. Her eyes drifted up to where
dark hair spilled an inch or two over the shirt�s collar. His hair seemed black, but when the light
struck it, it turned out to be that shade of brown just before black. Half of it was tied back haphazardly with an elastic, probably so it wouldn�t to get in his face as he
worked intently.

A
small smile made its way onto her face.
Perhaps now she would meet a Greek wizard. There seemed to be no shortage of gorgeous
men around here, Muggle and wizard alike.

He
did not notice her approach, so absorbed he was by his work. But he gave a slight start when she spoke.

�Excuse
me, Sir, do you work on the site?� Hermione asked,
speaking a bit slower in case English wasn�t his first language.

�You
needn�t speak to me as if I�m a child,� he replied. �This is an International Zone. Everyone understands everyone else, by virtue
of the Babel spell.�

Cold
sentiment, but his voice was warm with amusement. She should have known that anyway.

�I
was just trying to be courteous. I�ve
just arrived, and no one is around but you.
Where is everyone, and where should I put my bags?�

�I
don�t believe I�ve ever been asked to be a bellhop before,� he said cheekily,
still not even turning around to acknowledge her.

Hermione
sighed. She had hoped she wouldn�t be
treated mockingly by the older excavators, but this man seemed determined to
run her through the gauntlet.

�What
have you got there, anyway?� she asked, stepping forward to look over his
shoulder.

�You
see, it�s a�� he began, craning his neck up and around to look at her. Then he fell silent, his eyes widening.

Hermione
had more or less the same reaction, except for the added bonus of a choked
squeak that escaped from her gaping mouth.
Oh Merlin�it couldn�t be! But it
was. As plain as day, it was.

She�d
found a Professor all right. Just not the right one.
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