Accidental Encounters
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
9,894
Reviews:
45
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
9,894
Reviews:
45
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.
Along, Apart
Chapter Four: Along, Apart
Hermione was surprised when, barely seconds after she knocked, Ron answered the door.
“Ron?” Shock and surprise mingled together.
“Hey ‘Mione,” Ron said glumly, “I’m glad you could make it to the party.”
“Party?”
“Yeah, Harry’s birthday is on Wednesday.”
“Oh! You know, I hadn’t forgotten, I was just going to floo him on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, I know. Come in then.”
He stepped back slightly, leaving Hermione to squeeze through a tiny gap between him and the doorframe. As soon as she was free, Hermione darted into the kitchen, and was greeted by cries of surprise.
Harry had been enjoying his auror training. He hadn’t been let out into the field yet, which was frustrating him. He said, “How many times have I come up against Voldemort and gotten the upper hand? And now they won’t even let me up against some of his little wannabies.”
Ginny shook her head, and sounding remarkably like her mother said, “I’m just glad that you aren’t doing anything dangerous. I like the fact that you are coming home to me every night.”
As she said that, Hermione met Ron’s eyes across the table. He held her gaze steadily, but when Hermione turned back to Ginny, Ron walked sullenly out of the room.
Ron, according to Molly, was supposed to be moody. Dragon handling didn’t work out very well, and he was back home trying to think of what to do next. Molly was pushing for an apprenticeship hunting for treasures for Gringotts. Silently, Hermione thought it was a very bad idea.
Later in the evening, after the traditional gift-giving and cake-cutting had been dispensed with, Harry, Hermione and Ron sat in the darkened garden. Ron was obviously depressed. He had sniffed moodily, “Four weeks into the ‘real world’ and I’m a failure, Hermione is a pleb and Harry is practically still in school. I thought it would be better than this.” Despite Harry and Hermione’s assurances, they couldn’t get anything more cheerful out of him all evening.
It was well after midnight when Hermione again endured the goodbye hugs, and apparated back to the Bacon house. The second she arrived back, Elizar was knocking on her door, alerting her to an urgent job in Edinburgh. Apparently, there had been an accident with a Polyjuice Potion, quite similar to the one that left her a cat in her early years at Hogwarts. Sighing, Hermione picked up the “field kit” she had made up for her call-outs, and once again apparated. Her work was eating her whole.
***
It seemed that Hermione’s work had now consumed her, for when she next had a spare moment to look at the calendar, it was already the end of August. The nights were becoming nippier, and call-outs to the far north always greeted her with winds so cold, she could have sworn hell’s icy fingers were trying to snatch her away.
It had been a week since she’d last received a letter from Harry, who was still basically in classroom training. They were now being let out once a week to shadow the movements of qualified Aurors, but Harry found this even more frustrating. “Some of them wouldn’t have a clue about things we were covering in the DA in fifth and sixth years! How they ever got to be Aurors…” Hermione smiled. It was so typically Harry, railing against the injustices of the world.
Ron never wrote. His news was conveyed through letters from Harry, Ginny, Molly, and even Neville. The last she heard, Ron had indeed gone to Egypt with Bill, but had lasted there for an even shorter time than he had with Charlie in Romania. He was now back home, considering his next move. Hermione prayed that Molly wasn’t pushing him into an apprenticeship with Arthur or Percy.
Hurriedly, Hermione scribbled a quick response, ending with a promise of a longer letter next time, if only she could find the time. She briefly wondered whether she should also write a note to Ron, but decided to add a postscript for him to the bottom Harry’s letter. There was definitely something up with Ron, but she had neither the time nor the energy to think that through now.
What she needed was a short break in her paperwork… Being careful not to crumple her papers, Hermione bent forward and gently rested the side of her face on her desk. She would just be like this for a moment, she told herself. However, the fire in the grate was warming the room, the wind whipped through the darkness outside, and in no time at all, Hermione was sound asleep.
***
A sudden bang caused Hermione to jerk suddenly upright, and as was the norm, she was momentarily confused as to where she was. When she realized that she had spent the night slumped over her workdesk, and that it was now almost 10.30am, she shook her head in disbelief.
At her movement, Elizar hurried forward, bowing low and chattering quickly, “So, so sorry Miss Granger! I didn’t mean to wake you! Please accept my apologies…” Hermione shushed him and gingerly felt at her face, where the elaborate imprint of her pile of parchment decorated her flesh. She groaned loudly, and from behind her, Penny’s musical laugh bubbled up.
“Well, good morning sleeping beauty! I wish I had your work ethic.”
Elizar nodded, and added regretfully, “And I am sorry Miss Granger, we were letting you rest.”
Hermione nodded back at him, before standing carefully and staggering down the cluttered hallway to the kitchen. She didn’t fancy her chances of making it outside to her guesthouse, so she slumped on the kitchen table and summoned a glass of cold water to her.
Gradually coming to feel a little better, Hermione summoned some toast and returned to her desk. At this, Penny simply shook her head. “Go out and get a life, Hermione! The work will wait … Heaven knows you’ve done enough!” It was more than enough to convince her to go back down the hallway, and out to her guesthouse.
It became a rare day off for Hermione, and she decided she would use the evening to attempt one of the more complex recipes from her cookbook. If it worked out well, she would make a double batch and take it around to Penny and her eternally-ravenous horde of children. It was 4.30 when she first examined the recipe carefully, and determining that it would take a considerable amount of time, began to cook at five o’clock. However, she had barely begun when there was a sharp rapping at the door. She was surprised to see Elizar, out of breath from tearing across the garden, clutching a glowing red parchment. An urgent job, now?
“Miss … Miss … please … quick! Urgent … situation… Hogsmeade … Hogwarts … Dark potions …” Elizar was panting random words, but the mention of “Hogwarts” and “Dark potions” was enough to send Hermione herself running for her field kit. As she ran, it registered faintly in the back of her mind that it was the First of September, the first day of the Hogwarts year. What could possibly have gone so wrong on the first day of term?
Hermione was surprised when, barely seconds after she knocked, Ron answered the door.
“Ron?” Shock and surprise mingled together.
“Hey ‘Mione,” Ron said glumly, “I’m glad you could make it to the party.”
“Party?”
“Yeah, Harry’s birthday is on Wednesday.”
“Oh! You know, I hadn’t forgotten, I was just going to floo him on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, I know. Come in then.”
He stepped back slightly, leaving Hermione to squeeze through a tiny gap between him and the doorframe. As soon as she was free, Hermione darted into the kitchen, and was greeted by cries of surprise.
Harry had been enjoying his auror training. He hadn’t been let out into the field yet, which was frustrating him. He said, “How many times have I come up against Voldemort and gotten the upper hand? And now they won’t even let me up against some of his little wannabies.”
Ginny shook her head, and sounding remarkably like her mother said, “I’m just glad that you aren’t doing anything dangerous. I like the fact that you are coming home to me every night.”
As she said that, Hermione met Ron’s eyes across the table. He held her gaze steadily, but when Hermione turned back to Ginny, Ron walked sullenly out of the room.
Ron, according to Molly, was supposed to be moody. Dragon handling didn’t work out very well, and he was back home trying to think of what to do next. Molly was pushing for an apprenticeship hunting for treasures for Gringotts. Silently, Hermione thought it was a very bad idea.
Later in the evening, after the traditional gift-giving and cake-cutting had been dispensed with, Harry, Hermione and Ron sat in the darkened garden. Ron was obviously depressed. He had sniffed moodily, “Four weeks into the ‘real world’ and I’m a failure, Hermione is a pleb and Harry is practically still in school. I thought it would be better than this.” Despite Harry and Hermione’s assurances, they couldn’t get anything more cheerful out of him all evening.
It was well after midnight when Hermione again endured the goodbye hugs, and apparated back to the Bacon house. The second she arrived back, Elizar was knocking on her door, alerting her to an urgent job in Edinburgh. Apparently, there had been an accident with a Polyjuice Potion, quite similar to the one that left her a cat in her early years at Hogwarts. Sighing, Hermione picked up the “field kit” she had made up for her call-outs, and once again apparated. Her work was eating her whole.
***
It seemed that Hermione’s work had now consumed her, for when she next had a spare moment to look at the calendar, it was already the end of August. The nights were becoming nippier, and call-outs to the far north always greeted her with winds so cold, she could have sworn hell’s icy fingers were trying to snatch her away.
It had been a week since she’d last received a letter from Harry, who was still basically in classroom training. They were now being let out once a week to shadow the movements of qualified Aurors, but Harry found this even more frustrating. “Some of them wouldn’t have a clue about things we were covering in the DA in fifth and sixth years! How they ever got to be Aurors…” Hermione smiled. It was so typically Harry, railing against the injustices of the world.
Ron never wrote. His news was conveyed through letters from Harry, Ginny, Molly, and even Neville. The last she heard, Ron had indeed gone to Egypt with Bill, but had lasted there for an even shorter time than he had with Charlie in Romania. He was now back home, considering his next move. Hermione prayed that Molly wasn’t pushing him into an apprenticeship with Arthur or Percy.
Hurriedly, Hermione scribbled a quick response, ending with a promise of a longer letter next time, if only she could find the time. She briefly wondered whether she should also write a note to Ron, but decided to add a postscript for him to the bottom Harry’s letter. There was definitely something up with Ron, but she had neither the time nor the energy to think that through now.
What she needed was a short break in her paperwork… Being careful not to crumple her papers, Hermione bent forward and gently rested the side of her face on her desk. She would just be like this for a moment, she told herself. However, the fire in the grate was warming the room, the wind whipped through the darkness outside, and in no time at all, Hermione was sound asleep.
***
A sudden bang caused Hermione to jerk suddenly upright, and as was the norm, she was momentarily confused as to where she was. When she realized that she had spent the night slumped over her workdesk, and that it was now almost 10.30am, she shook her head in disbelief.
At her movement, Elizar hurried forward, bowing low and chattering quickly, “So, so sorry Miss Granger! I didn’t mean to wake you! Please accept my apologies…” Hermione shushed him and gingerly felt at her face, where the elaborate imprint of her pile of parchment decorated her flesh. She groaned loudly, and from behind her, Penny’s musical laugh bubbled up.
“Well, good morning sleeping beauty! I wish I had your work ethic.”
Elizar nodded, and added regretfully, “And I am sorry Miss Granger, we were letting you rest.”
Hermione nodded back at him, before standing carefully and staggering down the cluttered hallway to the kitchen. She didn’t fancy her chances of making it outside to her guesthouse, so she slumped on the kitchen table and summoned a glass of cold water to her.
Gradually coming to feel a little better, Hermione summoned some toast and returned to her desk. At this, Penny simply shook her head. “Go out and get a life, Hermione! The work will wait … Heaven knows you’ve done enough!” It was more than enough to convince her to go back down the hallway, and out to her guesthouse.
It became a rare day off for Hermione, and she decided she would use the evening to attempt one of the more complex recipes from her cookbook. If it worked out well, she would make a double batch and take it around to Penny and her eternally-ravenous horde of children. It was 4.30 when she first examined the recipe carefully, and determining that it would take a considerable amount of time, began to cook at five o’clock. However, she had barely begun when there was a sharp rapping at the door. She was surprised to see Elizar, out of breath from tearing across the garden, clutching a glowing red parchment. An urgent job, now?
“Miss … Miss … please … quick! Urgent … situation… Hogsmeade … Hogwarts … Dark potions …” Elizar was panting random words, but the mention of “Hogwarts” and “Dark potions” was enough to send Hermione herself running for her field kit. As she ran, it registered faintly in the back of her mind that it was the First of September, the first day of the Hogwarts year. What could possibly have gone so wrong on the first day of term?