It just...happened...
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
21,289
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
21,289
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
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.
Poor Snape...
The pink of the sky still was shining on them, along with the cold and Hermione felt herself wish that she had actually gone with McGonagall.
They’d be so disappointed in her if they knew what she had done. Well…they were probably disappointed anyway.
Poor McGonagall and Dumbledore…suddenly she saw Snape thrashing a bit in his sleep, clawing at the air a bit and muttering…
No…poor Snape.
He shot up in his sleeping bag, looking wildly around at his surroundings. His black eyes shot to her, sitting up in her own makeshift bed as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.
“Are you alright?” she asked innocently, not wanting him to think he had made a spectacle of himself, she was only beginning to earn his trust.
He didn’t answer but continued shaking his head and blinking to wake himself up. Hermione stretched her arms and with a wave of her wand a cup of tea was on both of their laps.
He didn’t thank her, as usual. He sipped it gingerly, noticing it was a good warm up for the chilly morning.
She drank hers quickly, and stood, the freezing air hitting her and causing her to go back under the comfort of her sleeping bag. He frowned.
“Get up, Granger. We’ve a long journey today as it is.”
Hermione nodded, getting up, and with a wave of her wand over her she was clean and changed. He flicked his own wand and their sleeping bags and fire remnants had vanished.
Hermione pulled on a new clean robe, scarf and mittens and watched as he did the same, only his gloves were black leather. Black Leather. Deatheater gloves.
She shivered, and walked a little farther from him, looking to him with scrupulous wary. She really didn’t know enough about Snape, all she knew was the following; He was a bitter greasy git, he had been humiliated by James Potter, he had been a Deatheater, he had saved Harry on numerous occasions, he had let Hermione tag along and he was starting to become attractive.
Wait.
When did that part come in? No. Not attractive, never attractive. He was PROFESSOR Snape. Not Mr. Not Severus…PROFESSOR.
*Technically not your professor now. * Said a voice in her head that constantly accompanied a know-it-all like herself. *You\'re both off Hogwarts property, and he has been looking at you differently lately. *
At this last misleading thought Hermione looked over to her constant defender, Snape dark eyes darted away from her own and she blushed.
She felt her chest grow tighter, why was he looking at her? She suddenly came to the frightening realization that she was alone…with Snape…
He was brave though, Hermione had to admit that. He was brave, and tall and dark and…bullocks. This was not good. Not good at all.
________________________________________________
Far from the confused wizard and witch something worse was happening, something in a place that could never be recorded, a place that only few knew of, Snape being onethemthem.
The trees were dead, the ruins of the builds evident and the guards all around the said ruin of a castle looked steely around their respective territories.
If you walked up the long staircase that crumbled under your weight, and you made it to the second highest level, you would surely see a dark red door. You’d think it was some strange storage room but then you’d hear the screaming…the horrible, anguished screaming that you’d never be able to get out of your mind.
And at the moment Harry was lying on a small cot in the said room, trying to conceal his own strangled screaming.
There were no windows in the room, only the sliver of sky that shone through the roof where it was split. Harry saw the drops of water that slipped in front of his eyes, onto the ground and dissolved.
He licked his own cracked lips, his breathing growing raspy with the passing minutes. His hair was muddy and caked, his one eye swollen shut, his two back teeth were missing and he assumed lying somewhere in the cold room.
They had taken him in his comatose position and brought him to this castle. Their genius mediwitch, who far surpassed Madame Pomfrey due to dark arts, had created the spell that had knocked Harry out in the first place, and his respective antidote.
When Harry’s green eyes had fluttered lightly open and he expected to be in the charge of Madame Pomfrey he was horrified to see at least twelve masked figures that he knew instantly.
His eyes had grown wide as they cruelly laughed as Harry let out a barely audible, “No.” while ‘Help me Dumbledore’ had flashed through his mind, just before all twenty four fists had beat him mercilessly until he couldn’t move.
Hours later he had woken up, knowing full well where he was now and shivering at the recollection.
Tears swam down his face as he let out choked sobs for Dumbledore, McGonagall and…then in a truly desperate reach he had let the name of Snape pass through his yearning lips.
“Help me.” He screeched, hoping somehow that he could be heard. He couldn’t. Harry knew his death would be soon. The only question was how soon?
They’d be so disappointed in her if they knew what she had done. Well…they were probably disappointed anyway.
Poor McGonagall and Dumbledore…suddenly she saw Snape thrashing a bit in his sleep, clawing at the air a bit and muttering…
No…poor Snape.
He shot up in his sleeping bag, looking wildly around at his surroundings. His black eyes shot to her, sitting up in her own makeshift bed as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.
“Are you alright?” she asked innocently, not wanting him to think he had made a spectacle of himself, she was only beginning to earn his trust.
He didn’t answer but continued shaking his head and blinking to wake himself up. Hermione stretched her arms and with a wave of her wand a cup of tea was on both of their laps.
He didn’t thank her, as usual. He sipped it gingerly, noticing it was a good warm up for the chilly morning.
She drank hers quickly, and stood, the freezing air hitting her and causing her to go back under the comfort of her sleeping bag. He frowned.
“Get up, Granger. We’ve a long journey today as it is.”
Hermione nodded, getting up, and with a wave of her wand over her she was clean and changed. He flicked his own wand and their sleeping bags and fire remnants had vanished.
Hermione pulled on a new clean robe, scarf and mittens and watched as he did the same, only his gloves were black leather. Black Leather. Deatheater gloves.
She shivered, and walked a little farther from him, looking to him with scrupulous wary. She really didn’t know enough about Snape, all she knew was the following; He was a bitter greasy git, he had been humiliated by James Potter, he had been a Deatheater, he had saved Harry on numerous occasions, he had let Hermione tag along and he was starting to become attractive.
Wait.
When did that part come in? No. Not attractive, never attractive. He was PROFESSOR Snape. Not Mr. Not Severus…PROFESSOR.
*Technically not your professor now. * Said a voice in her head that constantly accompanied a know-it-all like herself. *You\'re both off Hogwarts property, and he has been looking at you differently lately. *
At this last misleading thought Hermione looked over to her constant defender, Snape dark eyes darted away from her own and she blushed.
She felt her chest grow tighter, why was he looking at her? She suddenly came to the frightening realization that she was alone…with Snape…
He was brave though, Hermione had to admit that. He was brave, and tall and dark and…bullocks. This was not good. Not good at all.
________________________________________________
Far from the confused wizard and witch something worse was happening, something in a place that could never be recorded, a place that only few knew of, Snape being onethemthem.
The trees were dead, the ruins of the builds evident and the guards all around the said ruin of a castle looked steely around their respective territories.
If you walked up the long staircase that crumbled under your weight, and you made it to the second highest level, you would surely see a dark red door. You’d think it was some strange storage room but then you’d hear the screaming…the horrible, anguished screaming that you’d never be able to get out of your mind.
And at the moment Harry was lying on a small cot in the said room, trying to conceal his own strangled screaming.
There were no windows in the room, only the sliver of sky that shone through the roof where it was split. Harry saw the drops of water that slipped in front of his eyes, onto the ground and dissolved.
He licked his own cracked lips, his breathing growing raspy with the passing minutes. His hair was muddy and caked, his one eye swollen shut, his two back teeth were missing and he assumed lying somewhere in the cold room.
They had taken him in his comatose position and brought him to this castle. Their genius mediwitch, who far surpassed Madame Pomfrey due to dark arts, had created the spell that had knocked Harry out in the first place, and his respective antidote.
When Harry’s green eyes had fluttered lightly open and he expected to be in the charge of Madame Pomfrey he was horrified to see at least twelve masked figures that he knew instantly.
His eyes had grown wide as they cruelly laughed as Harry let out a barely audible, “No.” while ‘Help me Dumbledore’ had flashed through his mind, just before all twenty four fists had beat him mercilessly until he couldn’t move.
Hours later he had woken up, knowing full well where he was now and shivering at the recollection.
Tears swam down his face as he let out choked sobs for Dumbledore, McGonagall and…then in a truly desperate reach he had let the name of Snape pass through his yearning lips.
“Help me.” He screeched, hoping somehow that he could be heard. He couldn’t. Harry knew his death would be soon. The only question was how soon?