The Prime Princess

Snape kept an eye on Lucius while he waited the potions to cool down enough for drinking. He had known Lucius for his whole life and knew when something disturbed him greatly. The young Ariston had changed the snob into loving family person and that were something miraculous even in wizarding world. And now was the sun of Lucius’s life lying on his out-stretched couch, barely on conscious.

“I don’t want to leave her when she’s in this condition but I have rather urgent business in Manchester. I need to know she is well treated.” Lucius gazed at the Potion Master.

“You have my word. Leave in peace because she’ll be waiting you back with a big smile on her face,” promised Snape and chuckled when his words lit up blonds face.

Half an hour later professor Snape got ready to go to bed and was padding barefoot from the bathroom to his bedroom when he heard someone mumbling. Without a word few candles flickered to life and illuminated the room where Hermione slept.

“Why…” he heard her speak and stepped closer. She was tossing in her sleep, so Snape sat next to her and tried to calm her down. His hand came to caress her tear-stained cheek and slid trough messy hair to curl up behind her neck. He leaned over to cuddle her to his chest and stroke her back. She wrapped her hands around his neck and shoulders to bring herself back to reality.

“I just wanted to end this…” she grumbled weakly and pushed her cold face into his warm neck.

“Hush, you’re safe,” murmured Snape in a low voice and acciod the goblet with Sleeping Draft. Hermione refused to drink it but Snape found a way to pour it down her throat. He threatened her with prohibition from Quidditch. The next goblet was tricky because Hermione had found strength to fight with him.

“You are drinking this for your own good,” purred Snape dangerously, grabbed from her struggling hands, and twisted them behind her back.

“Don’t want to,” pouted Hermione but felt the affects of the first potion and Snape got his way. Few moments later he had a sleeping Ariston in his lap, snuggling closer to him. Snape just sat there on the couch, holding her and fondled with her long hair. He had no wish to leave and wanted to succumb to the sleep on his own but something interrupted him.

“Professor, me and Blaise have been looking for…” started Draco, who had strolled into professors quarters and stared at the witch in Snape’s lap, “…Hermione all over the place,” he finished with awe.

“And you’ve found her,” told professor calmly like he didn’t notice the compromising position he was in.

“I can see that!” snapped Draco, “But what the hell is she doing here?”

Snape looked down like he just noticed her the first time and raised her injured hand for display.

“She got into trouble and is now resting,” answered Snape, extracted her from him, and set her back to couch. Draco kept quiet until he and Snape ended up in the office.

“I want miss Parkinson to take over her Prefect duties for few days,” announced professor Snape and walked Draco to the door.

“Excuse me?” Draco was in complete shock but recovered quickly. “Is it that bad?”

“Don’t worry yourself that don’t concern you,” told Snape dryly and opened the door to the dungeons corridor. Draco stared at him, nodded then and left.

He was furious that everyone cut him off of their lives. Who was she to hog everyone to herself?! But of course, she was a bloody Ariston and that gave her the right. Damn selfish bitch!

Draco strode down the corridor to the stairs leading up. Around the corner Blaise came up to him but Draco ignored him as long as possible. But the Italian was persistent to get an answer out of him.

“Will you just shut the hell up? Yeah, I know where she is!”

“So?”

“That little insidious demon is right now twisting Snape around her little finger” told Draco, stomped up the stairs, and went straight to Heads dorm. Granger weren’t at the common room and that was really good for her or otherwise Draco would have hexed her to the next century. Looking around, he tried to avoid touching things that belonged to the mudblood and crept up to his room.
***
In the morning Blaise knocked to Potion Master’s door and stepped inside. He had a basket full of fresh clothes he had ordered from a house-elf to bring from Hermione’s trunk. Professor looked at him suspiciously but let him further into his quarters. He had expected the Head Boy but obviously he had something better to do. Hermione still slept on the couch with her face shoved into pillows, bandaged hand hanging over the edge. Blaise spotted that and put two and two together.

A goblet with recently brewed potion was on the near-by table. Blaise eyed its contents and put the laundry basket down next to the couch. Hermione stirred from the sound of his footsteps and turned a bit to the side. Professor fussed with some papers he had graded last night and got ready for the first period.

“I do believe you have the morning off,” said professor returning from the office.

“Yes, sir. But…” began Blaise but fell silent when he saw Snape’s harsh impression.

“Hold her down,” ordered Snape and approached to the couch. Blaise stood by Hermione’s side and looked down. He was a bit confused by professor’s actions. Why to hold her down when she was already beaten up pretty badly?

Snape crouched in front of her and took the burnt hand but soon he had a writhing hellcat. Blaise grabbed at her shoulders and waist and pushed her firmly into cushions. Oh, she was a fighter even in sedated state and Blaise had to use all his bodyweight so Snape could change the bandages. He had a glimpse of the hand and got struck by something. There was a glowing mark on her palm.

“Get off me!” growled Hermione and yanked her hand back. Blaise fell to the floor and crumbled away from the couch. Snape smirked triumphantly and commanded Blaise to get his butt off the ground. Hazed Hermione looked at both wizards and got a hold of her aching forehead.

“Watch her for awhile, give this to drink and tuck her in for the rest of the day. Have a nice morning, mister Zabini. Miss Ariston,” with that Snape left the room to attend the Potions class. Blaise stared at the closed door and then Hermione, who moved away from him.

“I think a shower is in order. Come,” encouraged Blaise her to take his hand but Hermione retreated even further.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed and tumbled over the back. Blaise let her to crawl into the bathroom and took the basket with clothes. He just didn’t get what was going on.

“You need these also,” said Blaise with annoyance and knocked on the door. Moment later it opened and a hand grabbed the emerald green pajamas along with undergarments leaving the uniform intact in the bottom of the basket.

Hermione throw her clothes onto a stool in the corner of the bathroom and stared a moment the ceiling. She felt like she was in a very wrong place but somehow it all seemed right. Thinking hurt too much and so she stepped under the shower and tapped with her wand one of the taps. Scented water with cinnamon and honey bubbles started to run over her naked body.

Hermione took a sponge and started to rub herself. Looking down on her body, she suddenly realized that this wasn’t quite her body. It was taller, more femininely firm with perfect complexion. No freckles, no skinny knees or flabby stomach. And the hair… they had the wrong color! At touch they felt so different, like silk… That was too much to take in and it frightened her.

Getting out of the shower, she didn’t dare to look into fogged mirror to see what she had become. Instead of that she dried herself up with a towel and dragged on the pajamas. She hoped that the slytherin had leaved but he remained in the room.

“Feel better?” asked Blaise and patted a stop next to him on the couch. Hermione stopped in her tracks and felt like running.

“Come on. I won’t bite. Much,” Blaise swayed her and smelled the sweet spices coming from her. Some things never changed, thought Blaise while waiting when Hermione settled down. A house-elf had brought her some breakfast on a silver platter and ham-sandwiches, sticky buns with cold pumpkin juice was all to distract her from Blaise. He had conjured a hairbrush and started with her damp mane.

“You know, this is not real,” told munching Hermione and took a mouthful from the goblet. “All of it.”

“Me, doing your hair? I do have two sisters.”

“No. I mean, you are a slytherin and I’m… I’m…”

“A slytherin?” supposed Blaise who languidly combed her long hair that reached to her waistline. With a soft turn of his wand he curled the strands and left them hanging loosely all over her back.

“Er… what?”

“Yeah, you know – evil, conniving, utmost dreadful little things the world has ever seen – the Prime Princess of Slytherin,” gave Blaise a small review. Hermione put the food away from her hands and just sat there enjoying the feel of Blaise working with her head.

“I’m evil?”

“I was just joking. Relax a bit, for Merlins sake. You sound weird. Are you sure you didn’t get a concussion too?” asked Blaise and handed her the Sleep Draft. She gazed at her strapped up hand and remembered vaguely what happened.

“They are dead, aren’t they?”

“Who?

“My parents…”

“Now you are talking gibberish! Your parents are at London making a donation for some library soon to be named after them!” laughed Blaise heartedly. With a swift turn she faced him and gaped at him. “You better drink that before you go all crazy on me.”

“Who am I?” asked Hermione seriously that made Blaise think twice.

“Hermione Electra Rhiannon Ariston,” enlightened Blaise, “You are Hera – the goddess,” told Blaise as simply as he could.

His hand came up to cup her cheek and Hermione saw herself in his incredibly indigo eyes. Big coffee eyes, straight nose, small full lips and elegant jaw-line, completed with long neck – that was a finely bred Ariston. But was it Hermione?