Brave New Girl
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
5,760
Reviews:
33
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
5,760
Reviews:
33
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.
Absolutely Nothing
Brave New Girl
Chapter Four:
Absolutely Nothing
It would have been a stressful week even if it hadn’t turned out that Ronald Weasley was a total twat, and Hermione could never remember a time she’d ever felt so exhausted. Sprawled face-first on her bed, she mentally recounted the various awful occurrences of the past seven days. Last Friday she was betrayed, stabbed in the back, utterly humiliated... And she’d done pretty poorly in Potions that day, too. A sad and solitary Saturday had been mercifully brightened by a visit from Harry and Ginny, though as the pair entered Hermione’s rooms Harry looked strangely guilty. He continuously looked down at his shoes, kept his hands in his pockets, and uttered a whole lot of “erm”s...
“I heard what happened,” Harry began slowly, never looking at her. “How are you?”
How are you?...
How was she supposed to be, she wondered. Heartbroken, jaded, angry, hurt beyond words... But instead, she’d put on an entirely forced smile and replied sweetly.
“I’m absolutely fine,” she lied, and though Ginny gave her an unconvinced sidelong glance, Harry seemed comforted by the words.
And the more she smiled that superficial smile, the easier it came. The lie began to live for her, and by the time Monday rolled around, she had completely perfected her act- a one-take actress who had her lines memorized and who delivered them flawlessly every time.
“I’m fine, really. Absolutely fine.”
In fact, she was so fine that when, despite her best efforts to convince the Headmistress that her reservations about a Valentine’s Ball were really very serious after all, McGonagal refused to let her cancel the event, Hermione only smiled and thanked the Headmistress for her time.
“Miss Granger,” called the Scottish witch as Hermione turned to exit, “what is wrong, dear? You know you can tell me anything.”
Hermione smiled. “Absolutely nothing, Professor. I just have a lot of last minute details to attend to.”
At least she hadn’t been lying when she’d told her that. She hadn’t even really had time to think about Ron or betrayal or how absolutely crap she felt- she’d been entirely too busy finishing up the preparations for the ball, and she had been relieved to find that it was just as easy to accomplish tasks while heartbroken. In fact, there was not a whole lot in the world that Hermione loved more than solving problems, so she’d rushed around and finished everything she needed to in order to make sure that every Hogwarts student had the time of his or her life at the Valentine’s Ball. It would be perfect, though with Hermione spearheading each and every arrangement, there’d really never been a question as to how wonderful the party would be. The napkins would match the centerpieces the centerpieces would match the wall decorations, and the wall decorations would match thousands of roses she’d arranged to be brought into the Great Hall simply for the occasion. It would be grander than anything any of the students had ever experienced, and it would all be thanks to Hermione.
Too bad she wouldn’t be there to enjoy it for herself.
Sighing, Hermione lifted her head with a sidelong glance toward her wardrobe. As she watched, the dress she would have worn the next night floated clear of her other clothes and began an effortless, partner-less waltz before spontaneously combusting in mid-air, leaving only a tiny pile of ashes on the floor after the flames fizzled out.
Crying again, Hermione laid her head back against her pillow. She was too tired to think about anything.
***
Staff meetings with Minerva McGonagal were far less entertaining than those held by her predecessor. When Dumbledore was in charge, Severus had found himself able to drift off quite easily and quite often. During the Dumbledore regime, it had been quite commonplace to have the conversation turn quickly into a heated debate over the merits of lemondrops in the students’ diets, and though that particular subject had never held any real interest for the Potions Master, one of the old man’s tangents would have been greatly appreciated during one of Drill Sergeant McGonagal’s meetings. The woman was all business, and even though her no-nonsense meetings were generally shorter than Dumbledore’s had been, they were more of a nuisance.
And what kind of diabolic evil schedules a staff meeting on Friday night, anyway?
Severus slunk in his chair. His part of the evening was over- the status of his house was updated, he had recounted problems he’d had with students during the past week, and he had made a plea (which he had been right in expecting to be denied) to be let off chaperone duty for the silly dance the next night. It wasn’t that he was against music or dancing or even celebrating. But it was utterly annoying to be the one always put on snogging duty. Punishing the randy teenagers was worthwhile, but the idea that those immature, pimply children were getting more action than he was made him grind his teeth in exasperated hopelessness. A man does not meet many women whilst secluded in a high school ten months of the year. Especially if that man is a not-particularly attractive, aging, foul-tempered former Death Eater.
“And on one last note-“
McGonagal’s voice cut through Snape’s revery like an ice pick through his skull. The meeting had already been interminably long; why was there always just one more thing to discuss?
“I’m quite worried about a certain student as of late. Hermione Granger does not seem to be herself, and this, in and of itself, is strange. In all the years we’ve known her, Hermione has never been one to hide anything, but there is something decidedly wrong with her.”
“She missed a homework assignment this week,” Professor Flitwick squeaked, concern etched across his face. Agreement was murmured by the majority of the other teachers, though Severus Snape only rolled his eyes. It was about time that people around Hogwarts stopped and realized that, spectacular though Harry Potter and his little gang may be, they were still seventeen year old kids, after all. So Hermione was having a bad week. She wasn’t super-human, and she wasn’t some golden idol to be worshipped.
...Hell, maybe she’d finally hit puberty.
The din of conversation swirled around him, though all Severus could do was eye the exit hopefully. Slowly, McGonagal raised her hand, and a hush fell over the room.
“I know we are all worried about her, and we will all do our best to make sure she is well, but Severus, I would like you to personally watch over her.”
He started at his name, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“But, Headmistress, why? Surely this is a job better suited to her Head of House.”
“The job is perfectly suited to you, Severus,” she said, eyeing him significantly, “and you know why.”
***************A/N*******************
Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed! It means so much, honestly! I know this is a bit of a shorter chapter, and it's a bit late, but the Indians were in the playoffs, so it simply couldn't be helped! :) Not sure if I'll be able to get another chapter up this week (not like there's a World Series to watch *grumblegrumble*), but I will try! As always, reviews make me write faster! :)
And check out my Live Journal Fic archive: http://www.livejournal.com/users/pmmfanfic
-PMM
Chapter Four:
Absolutely Nothing
It would have been a stressful week even if it hadn’t turned out that Ronald Weasley was a total twat, and Hermione could never remember a time she’d ever felt so exhausted. Sprawled face-first on her bed, she mentally recounted the various awful occurrences of the past seven days. Last Friday she was betrayed, stabbed in the back, utterly humiliated... And she’d done pretty poorly in Potions that day, too. A sad and solitary Saturday had been mercifully brightened by a visit from Harry and Ginny, though as the pair entered Hermione’s rooms Harry looked strangely guilty. He continuously looked down at his shoes, kept his hands in his pockets, and uttered a whole lot of “erm”s...
“I heard what happened,” Harry began slowly, never looking at her. “How are you?”
How are you?...
How was she supposed to be, she wondered. Heartbroken, jaded, angry, hurt beyond words... But instead, she’d put on an entirely forced smile and replied sweetly.
“I’m absolutely fine,” she lied, and though Ginny gave her an unconvinced sidelong glance, Harry seemed comforted by the words.
And the more she smiled that superficial smile, the easier it came. The lie began to live for her, and by the time Monday rolled around, she had completely perfected her act- a one-take actress who had her lines memorized and who delivered them flawlessly every time.
“I’m fine, really. Absolutely fine.”
In fact, she was so fine that when, despite her best efforts to convince the Headmistress that her reservations about a Valentine’s Ball were really very serious after all, McGonagal refused to let her cancel the event, Hermione only smiled and thanked the Headmistress for her time.
“Miss Granger,” called the Scottish witch as Hermione turned to exit, “what is wrong, dear? You know you can tell me anything.”
Hermione smiled. “Absolutely nothing, Professor. I just have a lot of last minute details to attend to.”
At least she hadn’t been lying when she’d told her that. She hadn’t even really had time to think about Ron or betrayal or how absolutely crap she felt- she’d been entirely too busy finishing up the preparations for the ball, and she had been relieved to find that it was just as easy to accomplish tasks while heartbroken. In fact, there was not a whole lot in the world that Hermione loved more than solving problems, so she’d rushed around and finished everything she needed to in order to make sure that every Hogwarts student had the time of his or her life at the Valentine’s Ball. It would be perfect, though with Hermione spearheading each and every arrangement, there’d really never been a question as to how wonderful the party would be. The napkins would match the centerpieces the centerpieces would match the wall decorations, and the wall decorations would match thousands of roses she’d arranged to be brought into the Great Hall simply for the occasion. It would be grander than anything any of the students had ever experienced, and it would all be thanks to Hermione.
Too bad she wouldn’t be there to enjoy it for herself.
Sighing, Hermione lifted her head with a sidelong glance toward her wardrobe. As she watched, the dress she would have worn the next night floated clear of her other clothes and began an effortless, partner-less waltz before spontaneously combusting in mid-air, leaving only a tiny pile of ashes on the floor after the flames fizzled out.
Crying again, Hermione laid her head back against her pillow. She was too tired to think about anything.
***
Staff meetings with Minerva McGonagal were far less entertaining than those held by her predecessor. When Dumbledore was in charge, Severus had found himself able to drift off quite easily and quite often. During the Dumbledore regime, it had been quite commonplace to have the conversation turn quickly into a heated debate over the merits of lemondrops in the students’ diets, and though that particular subject had never held any real interest for the Potions Master, one of the old man’s tangents would have been greatly appreciated during one of Drill Sergeant McGonagal’s meetings. The woman was all business, and even though her no-nonsense meetings were generally shorter than Dumbledore’s had been, they were more of a nuisance.
And what kind of diabolic evil schedules a staff meeting on Friday night, anyway?
Severus slunk in his chair. His part of the evening was over- the status of his house was updated, he had recounted problems he’d had with students during the past week, and he had made a plea (which he had been right in expecting to be denied) to be let off chaperone duty for the silly dance the next night. It wasn’t that he was against music or dancing or even celebrating. But it was utterly annoying to be the one always put on snogging duty. Punishing the randy teenagers was worthwhile, but the idea that those immature, pimply children were getting more action than he was made him grind his teeth in exasperated hopelessness. A man does not meet many women whilst secluded in a high school ten months of the year. Especially if that man is a not-particularly attractive, aging, foul-tempered former Death Eater.
“And on one last note-“
McGonagal’s voice cut through Snape’s revery like an ice pick through his skull. The meeting had already been interminably long; why was there always just one more thing to discuss?
“I’m quite worried about a certain student as of late. Hermione Granger does not seem to be herself, and this, in and of itself, is strange. In all the years we’ve known her, Hermione has never been one to hide anything, but there is something decidedly wrong with her.”
“She missed a homework assignment this week,” Professor Flitwick squeaked, concern etched across his face. Agreement was murmured by the majority of the other teachers, though Severus Snape only rolled his eyes. It was about time that people around Hogwarts stopped and realized that, spectacular though Harry Potter and his little gang may be, they were still seventeen year old kids, after all. So Hermione was having a bad week. She wasn’t super-human, and she wasn’t some golden idol to be worshipped.
...Hell, maybe she’d finally hit puberty.
The din of conversation swirled around him, though all Severus could do was eye the exit hopefully. Slowly, McGonagal raised her hand, and a hush fell over the room.
“I know we are all worried about her, and we will all do our best to make sure she is well, but Severus, I would like you to personally watch over her.”
He started at his name, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“But, Headmistress, why? Surely this is a job better suited to her Head of House.”
“The job is perfectly suited to you, Severus,” she said, eyeing him significantly, “and you know why.”
***************A/N*******************
Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed! It means so much, honestly! I know this is a bit of a shorter chapter, and it's a bit late, but the Indians were in the playoffs, so it simply couldn't be helped! :) Not sure if I'll be able to get another chapter up this week (not like there's a World Series to watch *grumblegrumble*), but I will try! As always, reviews make me write faster! :)
And check out my Live Journal Fic archive: http://www.livejournal.com/users/pmmfanfic
-PMM