Enchanted

Disclaimer: All characters herein are the creation of JK Rowling and/or the good folks at Warner Bros. I am only borrowing them. I have nothing to get.

Enchanted I

The full moon was eclipsed by the gathering clouds that were full of rain. Chilly winds blew around the Hogwarts castle as thunder rumbled. Hermione Granger stood at the open window, oblivious to the weather as she stared out onto the darkened landscape.

She’d come to the tower to get some peace. As Head girl she could get away with being out after curfew. She’d made her rounds and climbed the stairs to the small tower room which had been abandoned for years. The gathered dust had made her sneeze until she dispersed it with a flick of her wand.

Hogwarts was cold most of the time, and tonight was no exception. Hermione shivered and pulled her school robes tighter about her. She and Ron had broken up tonight and he had hurt her feelings badly. It had been her own fault, she’d supposed. Ron tended to be nosy just like his twin brothers were. He’d seen something that he shouldn’t have on her desk when he’d visited her in her room unannounced.

What he’d seen had upset him and all sorts of accusations had been flung at her. Hermione felt as if her privacy had been invaded and she felt that Ron was trying to push her into something that she did not want to commit to.


“Why, Hermione? Why him? Have you gone mental?” Ron’s eyes had been full of hurt. “He’s not to be trusted, and bloody hell, he’s our teacher.”

Hermione had taken the piece of parchment that Ron had seen and was glaring at him in return.

“Sometimes we cannot help our feelings, Ronald,” she’d replied.

“I thought we had an understanding.”

“There was no understanding. There never was.”

“Have you slept with him?”

“Don’t be silly, Ron. As you say he is our teacher. Just because I may have feelings for him doesn’t mean he knows about it and returns them in kind. You need to stop jumping to conclusions.”

“You’ve never slept with me. All you do is put me off.
That’s his name written all over that page. What am I supposed to think? You make nightly rounds with him and stay gone long after curfew.”

“How long I stay to make rounds is none of your concern. As for making rounds with Professor Snape it is a school duty and one I don’t take lightly. He treats me as coldly as he ever did and we barely speak.”

Ron had tried to pacify her then. He came up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Hermione, we belong together. I can stay here tonight and prove to you how much that we do.”


“I’m not having sex with you, Ron. Sexual relations are not the answer to everything.”

“You’re as cold as he is. I’m not sure you would know what to do in bed anyway for all of your reading you do.”

“As if you would know!”

“I have more experience than you.”

“Do tell.”

Sparks were starting to snap from Hermione’s chocolate eyes. She’d heard a few whispers here and there about Ron and Harry and various females, but she’d chosen to ignore them.

“Well, I.. That is to say,” Ron blushed. “Put it this way, Hermione. You haven’t had too many boys to choose from here that would put up with your brain. You should be grateful that I want you.”

“What? How dare you, Ronald Weasley.” Hermione marched to the door and flung it open. “Get out!”

“This is your last chance,” Ron said, even as she grabbed him by the ear and hauled him to the door.

“Fine. I don’t want any more chances. Consider us over and done with.”

“I’m not going to embarrass you by telling everyone that you fancy Snape.”

Hermione had slammed the door in retaliation, warding it and letting the tears loose. She had reported for the rounds that night with red eyes. Professor Snape had said nothing nor gave any indication that he cared how her eyes looked.


So now she had to face the fact that she indeed did care for Snape, had for some time. It was a fruitless exercise, considering that Snape didn’t have a romantic bone in his body.

Big drops of rain began to fall, sending spray into the open window and splattering Hermione.

“Miss Granger, are you aware that you should be back in your house?”

The silky voice permeated her thoughts, causing her to jump.

Severus Snape glided into the room, his glittering black eyes boring into hers. A flick of his wand, and the window slammed shut.

“This room is off limits.”

“I am sorry, Sir. I just wished to have some time alone.”

“Can you not do that in your own room?”

“Are you going to deduct points?”

Surprisingly enough, his face actually softened; something Hermione had never seen before.

“I should do just that.”

He is beautiful in his own way.

Even his yellowing teeth didn’t stop Hermione from admiring him.

I want him to kiss me.

A solitary black brow lifted upwards. Severus had slipped into her mind unnoticed, and was shocked at her thoughts.

“That would be dangerous, Miss Granger. Very Dangerous.”

She gasped as she realized he was there inside her mind. She became aware of his powerful presence, hovering at a safe distance.

“I am not afraid,” Hermione heard herself saying.

“No?”

She shook her head.

Severus studied her for a moment as he withdrew from her mind. The girl had developed into an appealing young woman, intelligent and pretty. She was the very sort that Severus had learned in his youth had no use for him. However, her thoughts had been to the contrary.

“I cannot believe that you are not punishing me, Sir.”

“I cannot believe it myself.” He took a hesitant step towards her.

Timidly, Hermione held out her arms to him. Their eyes had never lost contact. She had little time to wonder what he would do as she was enveloped into arms that were sinewy with muscle.

“Severus.” Her voice was muffled in his frock coat and robes.

Severus felt awkward holding her. The dark side of him wanted to slam her to the stone floor and sheath himself inside her, sating the need that had simmered below the surface for the last few years. He’d had no one to slake his sexual needs on, and for the most part had ignored it.

Hermione breathed in deeply, absorbing the herby smell of him. His chest felt good under her cheek, broad and expansive even if it was covered with buttons.
Hugging Ron like this had been akin to hugging a chicken.

Slowly, a slender hand came up to tangle in her bushy curls. She looked up, hope shining in her eyes, lips parted and damp.

For a moment, his narrow lips poised over hers.

“We can’t,” he said. “Not here.”

She pushed upwards on her toes, seeking his mouth.

“Dumbledore will see.”

Hermione stopped, disappointed.

“My rooms,” he muttered. “They are safe.”

“Yes,” Hermione. “Yes.”