Killing Cupid

Chapter 2

A/N--- Have just spent three hours writing this next chapter, only to have word perform an illegal operation and lose the fucker…. Gaaaaaaaaaah! I’m going to make so sure I save this one! Ok, calm! Wyou you see before you, dear readers, is chapter 2 mark 2!
Thank yo muo much to my reviewers, the fact that anyone is even reading this makes me so happy, and your reviews fuel that further! Individual thanks at the bottom. As with the chapter before, this is another ‘setting the scene’ one, so light on smut (persevere, and I promise great things!) unbeta-ed as ever, so do forgive me!
*Sev*Seva***


In Gryffindor Tower, on the self-same evening as Severus’ most perplexing experience, a certain insufferable know-all lay awake. It may not come as much of a surprise to know that the object of the Potions Master’s unexpected illusory affections was as prone as he to the melancholy. In short, Hermione Granger was decidedly pissed off.

It had been an utterly awful day. (A Tuesday, as it happened) A History of Magic lesson in which Professor Binns wasted the entirety of the 2 hours on a completely unrelated tangent concerning the intricate detail of Giant armour in the late 1600s, (a subject that not even Hermione could summon up any vague semblance of interest in,) followed by some particularly taxing, yet mind-numbingly dull Arithmcy calculations, and as a grand finale, in potions, an explosion of partially stewed armadillo spleen, courtesy of Neville. To top it all off, it was less than a week until the ultimately embarrassing festival of singleton taunting that was Valentines Day. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Hermione was, of course, single. In fact, other than the brief ‘relationship,’ if one can describe a series of mutually awkward silences as such, with Viktor Krum, Hermione was woefully inexperienced as far as romance was concerned. She maintained, when interrogated by an alarmingly coupley Harry and Ron, (although she had to admit, as she had commented when they first came out, that it was bloody handy to have a ready made pair of gay best friends at your disposal) that she much preferred a good book, and that, as far as she could tell she wasn’t missing out on anything too important, thank you very much. Nonetheless, in the dead of night, and at moments like this particular one, Hermione conceded that she was, in fact, desperately lonely.

Her aforementioned love of books, combined with her not altogether normal (in the opinion of her contemporaries) use of reading as something of a boyfriend substitute lead Hermione, somewhat inevitably, to the world of erotica. However, no amount of lurid and occasionally laughable description of some bronzed stud’s ‘enormous manhood’ and ‘burning loins’ would seem to prevent the dull ache, and frankly constant arousal, that implored Hermione to go forth and use her burgeoning hormones wisely…or at least with another person.

Finding the elusive ‘other person,’ though was a task in itself, and the main bulk, so to speak, of Hermione’s predicament. She had never considered herself to be what one would refer to as beautiful. She, like the inhabitant of a dungeon not so far away saw regarding her image in a mirror as a deeply depressing experience. Her hair, in particular really was beyond a joke. When she had been a toddler people, inexplicably elderly ones, would stop her parents in the street and comment on how ‘lovely and curly’ it looked. However, these days only the most senile of crones would pay anything vaguely resembling a compliment to the bushy explosion atop her head. And even then she suspected they were taking the piss. Whilst she could grudging appreciate that her dark brown eyes and teeth, (since ‘the incident’ in her fourth year) were relatively acceptable features, and that her body, whilst by no means svelte was at least reasonably shaped, to Hermione’s mind no eligible male would want to come near enough to discover any of her morsirasirable attributes.

And then there was the quandary of said eligible male. Hogwarts seemed to be decidedly lacking in any specimens to Hermione’s taste, even if she was just browsing in a theoretical sense. She had always had a particular image of male perfection, to which any muscled hunk of whatever seedy novel her carnally addled brain caused her to prostitute her literacy to could not compare. (As, of course, Hermione would never admit to enjoying a little trashy, plotless smut) So, Hermione did as any female in possession of a well ordered mind would, and formed a list…

1. Long black hair, falling seductively over eyes, occasionally tied back but equally alluring when flowing freely.
2. Slow, deep and velvety voice, the vocal equivalent of honey dripping over steel.
3. Razor sharp wit, and copious intelligence, with dark, intriguing sense of humour and past.
4. Pale skin, contrasting sharply with the darkness of hair, and giving an incredibly vampirish, ethereal quality.
5. Lean yet slightly muscular body, clad in black greatcoat with kind of buttons that beg to be slowly unfastened.
6. Noble, aquiline nose that compliments the angularity of high cheekbones.
7 .Black eyes, two, able to give looks that can only be described as smouldering, with the merest hint of eyeliner present.
8. Long, beautiful fingers, the requisite number of, the kind that one can equally image effortlessly bringing about wondrous orgasms and delicately stirring complex pot…
…

…Potions? Hermione wondered. The realisation was slow to dawn. Christ on a bike… It’s Snape…


A/N—I hope you enjoyed reading the list as much as I enjoyed writing it! *Laughs somewhat evilly* It\'s based on a combination of images, the majority of which were concieved purely within my own mind, but there\'s a degree of inspiration from a certain picture of a be-cloaked Johnny Depp which i have infront of me as i type...*sighs*
R&R darling ones, R&R!

And now to the thanks-

Jo- If you’re still reading this…and I know you are (you minx, lol)…hope you appreciate the little references in there…’enormous manhood’ mwahahaha! And I hope this chapter begins to explain why Hermione isn’t such a squicky character! XxXx

Zephyr- thank you so much! I have to say I rather liked that line too! I have a vague idea where I’m going to take this but I’m still very much open to suggestion!

Nesscafe- *claps and whistles right back* killing cupid is nothing to confessions of a level-headed witch, and its thanks to your challenge that I’m even writing this!

Shiv5468- Thanks! I agree, poor Severus, but he does rather enjoy being miserable, and don’t worry, he will be happy sooner than he thinks!