Lilies
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
6,058
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
6,058
Reviews:
19
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.
The Detention
Chapter Three:
The Detention
“Overuse of one’s rod can cause a… cacophony of problems.”
Good grief, what had he been thinking. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. If all else failed, he could just obliviate her. One thing was certain, no fair maiden had ever been won with such a ludicrous line. ‘Would you -just- listen to yourself? Who the hell is this?’
He slammed his fist hard into the desk at just the same time a knock sounded at the classroom door. He was about to say, “Enter,” but decided better of it at the last minute. ‘She’s getting to you. Don’t let her get to you. Get to her first.’ Realizing he could still win, Severus got up to answer the door himself.
As soon as the door was open the tiniest bit, Hermione darted in past her professor and sat down at the front table, parchment, quill, and ink seemed to appear in front of her as she hunched over the table, trying to disappear.
Severus swept silently up the aisle to where Miss Granger sat. She looked terrified. She should be. Arriving in front of the table she had selected, he drew up a stool and sat.
“Miss Granger, for your detention you will be brewing a simple anti-fever potion for use in the hospital wing.” He summoned the supplies, all of which were conveniently tucked inside a cauldron on a near-by shelf. ‘Ten points to Slytherin, for… preparedness.’ He had watched Miss Granger work for years; he knew how absorbed she could be when there were no fools demanding her assistance. He would question her as she worked—she would be incapable of lying.
‘Really?’ Hermione thought, raising an eyebrow, ‘Is he -really- going to sit here and stare at me the whole time?’ There was a time when it would have annoyed the hell out of her or at least scared her, but lately she found herself immune to his scare tactics. Lately, she found them… well, her reaction was entirely inappropriate, and mentally, she left it at that. Unfortunately her body did not leave it at that. She could only hope that her reaction to his presence, a reaction that she could not quite explain, went unnoticed by him. Gods, how he would embarrass her if he knew. She was careful never to meet his eyes, remembering what Harry had taught her from his disastrous fifth-year lessons.
She had to quit thinking about it, even though the potion was virtually brainless and half done, it would not do at all to screw it up under such close scrutiny.
Severus recognized that his student was zoning back into her work. He briefly wondered what she had been thinking about, but ultimately decided not to pursue it, he didn’t need the distraction. Now was his time to strike.
“Miss Granger…” he began, leaning slightly closer to her, so that their faces were mere inches apart.
“Hm.”
He decided against confronting her lack of respect for his position given the delicate nature of the information he was about to extract. He did not wish to make her combative or to set her on the defensive.
“I was wondering, Miss Granger, what your marks in Herbology are looking like?”
“O.”
“So, you would consider yourself more than capable of growing a more finicky variety of blossoming plant?”
That got her attention. No more monosyllabic answers. Of course she could—she was Hermione Jane Granger, Wonder-Student, I am witch, hear me roar.
“Professor, if I wanted a flower, I would transfigure something. It would last longer.”
A reasonable answer. It was, after all, the same thing he would do.
“Indeed. And if you desired such a plant, what would your preference be?”
If the last statement had gotten her attention, this one positively shocked her, which registered on her face. It took all her powers of concentration to continue working on the potion under this line of questioning.
“Professor, are you asking me what variety of flower I prefer?”
Upon closer inspection, it was an odd question.
“Just answer the question, Miss Granger.”
“Well, Professor, I have always been a fan of narcissus papyraceus.” At his skeptical look, she added, “It’s exotic.”
“And what are your feelings toward the zantedeschia aethiopica?”
“Are you referring to the variety that appeared in my dormitory, Professor?”
That took him aback. Granger had received flowers, too? What was going on? In spite of his reservations at the new information, Severus could not reveal any weakness in the course of this investigation.
“No,” he said, suddenly sounding dangerous, “no, I am not, Miss Granger. I am referring to the variety that appeared in my private quarters this morning.”
Interesting.
“Miss Granger, I am going to ask you a question, and I expect absolute honesty. Be warned, I shall know if you are lying. Are you prepared to tell me the truth, or shall I fetch you some… liquid assistance?”
“On one condition, Professor.” Hermione knew she was in no position to bargain, but she had a burning question of her own. Besides, drawing a Slytherin into a deal was better than Veritaserum. At least then she would get something out of it.
“And what is that, Miss Granger?”
“That I may ask you one question immediately after, and you must be absolutely honest with me. And before you argue, I won’t ask anything about Death Eaters or the Order.”
Well, that was inconvenient. Who did she think she was? Oh, it was a small price to pay to have some peace of mind concerning the floral arrangement.
“Fine. Do you know anything about—or are you responsible for—the floral arrangement that appeared in my private quarters?” he said slowly and dangerously.
“No, Professor, I don’t. In fact, a similar mysterious arrangement appeared in my dormitory, addressed to me, on the same morning.”
“And your question, Miss Granger?”
“Why did you kiss me?”
His whole countenance darkened. He looked positively dangerous.
“Get. Out.”
She didn’t flinch.
“I’m sorry, Professor, but you agreed. I answered you honestly, you owe me the same.”
“I kissed you because I was drunk and I thought you were someone else. Now. Get. Out.”
“Who did you think I was?”
“You have had your one question. Now, get out. You have earned yourself another detention to be served tomorrow night, same time, same place. Get. Out.”
A/N: Hermione’s favorite flower is one of my favorite flowers. It is also known as the Paperwhite and is native to the Mediterranean region.
Thanks for reviewing Queen Celestia (I LOVE your writing, it’s an honor) and Sureves Epans (as far as I was concerned, there was only one way to go with the lilies/Lily thing, glad you liked it!). You guys made my day!
Originally, I had written a lemony detention scene, but I scrapped it for now. A certain Know-It-All TOTALLY ruined the mood. What could I do? Anyway, in said lemony detention scene, I have written Severus as a little less--um--experienced than we're used to seeing him. Thoughts? Thanks.
The Detention
“Overuse of one’s rod can cause a… cacophony of problems.”
Good grief, what had he been thinking. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. If all else failed, he could just obliviate her. One thing was certain, no fair maiden had ever been won with such a ludicrous line. ‘Would you -just- listen to yourself? Who the hell is this?’
He slammed his fist hard into the desk at just the same time a knock sounded at the classroom door. He was about to say, “Enter,” but decided better of it at the last minute. ‘She’s getting to you. Don’t let her get to you. Get to her first.’ Realizing he could still win, Severus got up to answer the door himself.
As soon as the door was open the tiniest bit, Hermione darted in past her professor and sat down at the front table, parchment, quill, and ink seemed to appear in front of her as she hunched over the table, trying to disappear.
Severus swept silently up the aisle to where Miss Granger sat. She looked terrified. She should be. Arriving in front of the table she had selected, he drew up a stool and sat.
“Miss Granger, for your detention you will be brewing a simple anti-fever potion for use in the hospital wing.” He summoned the supplies, all of which were conveniently tucked inside a cauldron on a near-by shelf. ‘Ten points to Slytherin, for… preparedness.’ He had watched Miss Granger work for years; he knew how absorbed she could be when there were no fools demanding her assistance. He would question her as she worked—she would be incapable of lying.
‘Really?’ Hermione thought, raising an eyebrow, ‘Is he -really- going to sit here and stare at me the whole time?’ There was a time when it would have annoyed the hell out of her or at least scared her, but lately she found herself immune to his scare tactics. Lately, she found them… well, her reaction was entirely inappropriate, and mentally, she left it at that. Unfortunately her body did not leave it at that. She could only hope that her reaction to his presence, a reaction that she could not quite explain, went unnoticed by him. Gods, how he would embarrass her if he knew. She was careful never to meet his eyes, remembering what Harry had taught her from his disastrous fifth-year lessons.
She had to quit thinking about it, even though the potion was virtually brainless and half done, it would not do at all to screw it up under such close scrutiny.
Severus recognized that his student was zoning back into her work. He briefly wondered what she had been thinking about, but ultimately decided not to pursue it, he didn’t need the distraction. Now was his time to strike.
“Miss Granger…” he began, leaning slightly closer to her, so that their faces were mere inches apart.
“Hm.”
He decided against confronting her lack of respect for his position given the delicate nature of the information he was about to extract. He did not wish to make her combative or to set her on the defensive.
“I was wondering, Miss Granger, what your marks in Herbology are looking like?”
“O.”
“So, you would consider yourself more than capable of growing a more finicky variety of blossoming plant?”
That got her attention. No more monosyllabic answers. Of course she could—she was Hermione Jane Granger, Wonder-Student, I am witch, hear me roar.
“Professor, if I wanted a flower, I would transfigure something. It would last longer.”
A reasonable answer. It was, after all, the same thing he would do.
“Indeed. And if you desired such a plant, what would your preference be?”
If the last statement had gotten her attention, this one positively shocked her, which registered on her face. It took all her powers of concentration to continue working on the potion under this line of questioning.
“Professor, are you asking me what variety of flower I prefer?”
Upon closer inspection, it was an odd question.
“Just answer the question, Miss Granger.”
“Well, Professor, I have always been a fan of narcissus papyraceus.” At his skeptical look, she added, “It’s exotic.”
“And what are your feelings toward the zantedeschia aethiopica?”
“Are you referring to the variety that appeared in my dormitory, Professor?”
That took him aback. Granger had received flowers, too? What was going on? In spite of his reservations at the new information, Severus could not reveal any weakness in the course of this investigation.
“No,” he said, suddenly sounding dangerous, “no, I am not, Miss Granger. I am referring to the variety that appeared in my private quarters this morning.”
Interesting.
“Miss Granger, I am going to ask you a question, and I expect absolute honesty. Be warned, I shall know if you are lying. Are you prepared to tell me the truth, or shall I fetch you some… liquid assistance?”
“On one condition, Professor.” Hermione knew she was in no position to bargain, but she had a burning question of her own. Besides, drawing a Slytherin into a deal was better than Veritaserum. At least then she would get something out of it.
“And what is that, Miss Granger?”
“That I may ask you one question immediately after, and you must be absolutely honest with me. And before you argue, I won’t ask anything about Death Eaters or the Order.”
Well, that was inconvenient. Who did she think she was? Oh, it was a small price to pay to have some peace of mind concerning the floral arrangement.
“Fine. Do you know anything about—or are you responsible for—the floral arrangement that appeared in my private quarters?” he said slowly and dangerously.
“No, Professor, I don’t. In fact, a similar mysterious arrangement appeared in my dormitory, addressed to me, on the same morning.”
“And your question, Miss Granger?”
“Why did you kiss me?”
His whole countenance darkened. He looked positively dangerous.
“Get. Out.”
She didn’t flinch.
“I’m sorry, Professor, but you agreed. I answered you honestly, you owe me the same.”
“I kissed you because I was drunk and I thought you were someone else. Now. Get. Out.”
“Who did you think I was?”
“You have had your one question. Now, get out. You have earned yourself another detention to be served tomorrow night, same time, same place. Get. Out.”
A/N: Hermione’s favorite flower is one of my favorite flowers. It is also known as the Paperwhite and is native to the Mediterranean region.
Thanks for reviewing Queen Celestia (I LOVE your writing, it’s an honor) and Sureves Epans (as far as I was concerned, there was only one way to go with the lilies/Lily thing, glad you liked it!). You guys made my day!
Originally, I had written a lemony detention scene, but I scrapped it for now. A certain Know-It-All TOTALLY ruined the mood. What could I do? Anyway, in said lemony detention scene, I have written Severus as a little less--um--experienced than we're used to seeing him. Thoughts? Thanks.