The Harder They Fall
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
9,788
Reviews:
138
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
9,788
Reviews:
138
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.
Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Ginny shivered and peered down the unfamiliar corridor. “I don’t remember ever being in this part of the school before.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been paying closer attention.” Madame Hooch stopped.
“Should we try to retrace our steps?” Being lost in a dim corner of Hogwarts was not, in Ginny’s opinion, a good idea. She’d seen more of the school’s darker sections than most of her classmates, and she knew how dangerous it could be.
Madame Hooch disagreed. “No good. The stairway has just moved away.” Indeed, the vast open stairwell, lined with paintings, gaped behind them. “The only way out is through. Sometimes, though, there’s a secret door or hidden passage we need to find.” Briskly, she rapped her knuckles against the ancient wood paneling, moved a few steps over and repeated the gesture.
Feeling suddenly faint again, Ginny stepped back to lean against the opposite wall. Her foot encountered something soft. Squeaking, Ginny turned to find herself nose to nose with a shadowy figure. The girl yelped and shoved, propelling herself backwards.
“Ow, Ginny! Calm down, it’s just me!” Neville Longbottom emerged from the shadows, rubbing his sternum. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I, uh, was just taking a break.”
Ginny looked down, blushed, looked up again. “Uh, Neville, you might want to, er…” She gestured towards his open fly.
Swearing softly, Neville turned away to tuck his clothing back into place. Ginny giggled.
Madame Hooch was pounding on the wall with both fists, now, frustrated by the lack of secret passages. “It’s no good. We’ll have to cast lumos and continue forward.” The woman pointed into the darkness.
“Where are you trying to go? I came from the Gryffindor common room. The door’s right behind…” Neville turned. “Oh. Well, there was a door, I think. If there wasn’t a door, how did I get here?”
Ginny tapped on the wall where Neville indicated there had been a door. The panel swung inward slightly. “Hey, I think I found something!” She pushed through the aperture, Neville following closely.
Madame Hooch heard a loud clattering sound, soprano and baritone groans, and then the clearly aggrieved statement from Ginny. “Neville, stop poking me there!”
“I’m not poking you, Ginny.”
“What are you…? OH!”
“Ginny? Neville? What’s happening?” Madame Hooch squinted, trying to penetrate the darkness.
Eventually, Ginny staggered out, her hair all mussed and a bemused expression on her face. “It’s no good. It’s a dead end.”
Neville peeked through the door. “Actually, it’s a broom closet. Madame Hooch, fancy a go?”
The older woman’s eyes lit up. “Let me see! Is the equipment in good shape?”
“I think so, but I’m really not the best judge of such things,” the boy admitted. “Ginny could tell you better than I.”
Ginny shrugged. “You we't t't this shy a minute ago. Go ahead and show her.”
Neville disappeared momentarily, returning with three somewhat seedy looking brooms.
Madame Hooch sighed reverently. “Ah, the old Silver Arrows! Those brooms are practically antiques. But they don’t make them with that level of craftsmanship anymore. They ought to be good flyers, still.” She regarded the two young people. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should fly up the stairwell to the infirmary, or we’ll never get there.” Ginny set her shoulders square. “And I’m well enough to do it, too!”
“Good lass!” Madame Hooch pd Gid Ginny’s shoulder affectionately. “Neville, you take the point position. Ginny can ride between us, and I’ll ride behind.” She accepted one of the Silver Arrows from Neville, who passed the third broom to Ginny. “Are we ready? Mount up!”
***
Professor Snape and Miss Granger both looked startled by Ron’s boisterous entrance. “What? Did I interrupt something? I can leave again if you two want to be alone.” Ron wiggled his eyebrows at Hermione in what he considered a lascivious manner. He laughed at his own joke.
Draco followed him into the infirmary, carrying the second punch bowl with a little more grace. “Cut the chat, Weasel. Where do you want the bowls, Uncle Severus?”
“Place them on that table.” Professor Snape indicated the workspace he had claimed for his own. “Not too close to the cauldron fire, if you please, Mr. Weasley! We are here to test the solutions, not to set them ‘a flambe’!”
“Right-o!” Ron complied, sloshing only a small measure of strawberry lemonade over the side of the bowl. Draco slid his burden onto the table with a little more grace.
The Potions Master gestured the three boys aside. Harry, Draco and Ron moved a few steps away, but hovered expectantly near.
“Gentlemen, you will sit there.” Snape pointed at the row of uncomfortable chairs against the wall near Madame Pomphrey’s office door. His commanding gesture left no room for argument. “Miss Granger, if you would measure out three gills of the strawberry lemonade and place them in this container, we can begin.”
“Professor Snape, now that you have your pick of assistants, may I please be excused?” Hermione clasped her hands primly across her knees.
“You may not be excused.” His voice was cold an implacable but his next words roused a sudden heat in Hermione’s face. “We are not finished with this.” She wondered if he truly intended a double meaning. “Now, Miss Granger?”
With a little spark of hope cherished within her bosom, Hermione joined Snape at the cauldron and measured out three gills of strawberry lemonade. “At least we’re not working with cherry lemonade,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t know if I could bear the irony.”
***
Minerva feared her career was over. She’d been Headmistress of Hogwarts for less than two weeks and already she was sitting on a disaster of epic proportions. Well, she wasn’t exactly sitting on the current disaster. That would have been more of a disaster. No sitting on the students. No sitting on, lying on, rubbing up against or licking the students was allowed, although, she mused, one might possibly justify an exception for many of those actions if she were in cat form. No, this was clearly a disaster on Minerva McGonagall’s watch, and the Board of Governors was going to have her head.
A brief fantasy image flitted across the fevered headmistress’ imagination. Crouching under the table at the next Board of Governor’s meeting, giving head to each of the committee in turn, would that be any way to save her position? Shaking her head to dispel the unproductive thoughts, Professor McGonagall rubbed the bridge of her nose again before replacing her glasses.
She’d failed to empty the Great Hall. The house elves were too busy frolicking to run the cleaning charms. Instead of returning to their dormitories, most of the prefects had led their charges in couples and small groups to darkened corners of the school. Everywhere she turned she saw bare knees, bare midriffs, bare shoulders. All this naked young flesh was more than she could stand. Even the shy glimpse of a well-turned ankle was enough to set her heart racing and her eyes glazing over. Even a couple of suits of armor had gotten into the act. The Kama Sutra plates 1-7 were being graphically demonstrated, in order, down the main entranceway to the school. Minerva wasn’t sure half those poses were physically possible, but the armored figures didn’t seem to have any difficulty with them.
She knew her only hope lay in the infirmary. If Poppy and Severus couldn’t lick this thing together… The image was as brilliantly graphic as it was sudden: Severus licking his way up the white column of Poppy’s throat. Minerva stopped, biting her lower lip to keep a moan from escaping. But surely they wouldn’t be doing anything with Hermione watching, she reasoned. Her overactive imagination supplied a pink-faced Miss Granger watching the passionate couple while touching herself tentatively, her skirt flipped up, white panties drenched with dew. A wicked part of her brain reminded Minerva that quite a few people were destined to join those three in the infirmary. The mental orgy featured a replay of Harry and Draco’s kiss, with Ron in between them this time, Ginny and Madame Hooch pressed against each other murmuring softly, and Madame Pomphrey kneeling between Hermione’s legs to perform a very special examination while Professor Snape straddled her fto cto create a very special kind of potion.
Shaking her head, Minerva removed her glasses once more. She wasn’t sure how she was going to continue to function. Her imagination was running away with her, each new bend in the road revealing more startling and graphic images. Half sobbing, she struggled forward, doing her best to ignore the whispers, the moans, the soft wet noises of kissing, sucking, licking…
Minerva, half blind without her glasses, stumbled over something which yowled loudly. Losing her balance, she grabbed the air, trying to right herself. Strong arms caught her and set her on her feet. It felt as though she’d been dashed with a bucket of very cold water. Her head cleared.
Fumbling her glasses back onto her face, Minerva looked up gratefully. “Argus Filch?”
***
“Well, at least we know it’s not the lemonade.” Professor Snape wiped his hands and set the towel aside while Hermione, ever the dutiful assistant, tidied the mess of their first experiment.
“Strawberry lemonade, Hogwarts style. No additives, preservatives or lust potions.” Hermione grimaced. “Now what?”
“Is there any of the lemonade left?” Ron asked hopefully.
“It’s probably all warm and disgusting.” Draco tossed the warning idly over his shoulder, most of his attention engaged in complicated hand-holding with Harry.
“Why, did you spit in it or something?” Ron felt strangely perturbed by the new closeness between his best friend and their former arch-rival. Any time the pair got too close to him, he felt uneasy, like he had when he’d gotten too close to Ginny, trying to pull her away from Draco on the dance floor. He crossed his legs, and tried to ignore how Harry was resting his head against Draco’s shoulder. Despite his uneasiness, he was really, really horny right now. The uncomfortable wooden chairs were even a bit arousing.
“I wouldn’t spit in sne ene else’s lemonade.” The suggestion offended Draco. “Besides, I’m saving my spit for Harry, here.” He pressed a kiss onto the lighting-shaped scar on the other boy’s forehead.
“Ew!” Hermione shuddered. “I don’t want to know. That’s disgusting.”
Green eyes looked up sadly. “Does it really disgust you?” Harry sniffed gently. He’d always been an emotional boy, but since Voldemort’s defeat, he let his feelings show much more openly.
Hermione spared Harry an apologetic glance. “It’s not that. It’s just the thought of someone spitting in my lemonade… Ew.”
“I detected no saliva in the lemonade, Mr. Weasley, if you wish to, ah, get rid of the evidence, as it were.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t evidence.” Ron wondered if Hermione would notice his stiffie if he stood up, and if she did notice, would she be annoyed or turned on? He decided not to risk it, imagining instead how wonderful her mouth would feel if she could be persuaded to kneel in front of him and open his flies.
“It is not evidence, and we may dispose of it, either down your gullet, or down the drain, it’s all the same to me.”
“Besides, Weasley, you were the one who carried in the lemonade. I was carrying the pumpkin juice,” Draco reminded him.
“Oh, yeah!” Ron’s impassioned exhalation may or may not have been a response to Draco. The redhead’s face was flushed, and his eyes were half closed as he watched Hermione apply elbow grease to the table.
“Should I pour this out, then?” Hermione gestured towards the punch bowl containing the dregs of the lemonade.
“Never mind, He-, erm… Miss Granger.” Snape shielded his mouth with his hand, as if covering a cough. “We’ll start on the pumpkin juice next. Three gills of pumpkin juice in this container, if you please.\"
***
A/N:
I never knew reviews were so addictive. The muse keeps taunting me with the next plot point, so I may update again before the weekend. (Ah, the joys of unemployment!) In the meantime, stay cool and enjoy a little lemony goodness:
Strawberry Lemonade
Strawberries, one pint, utterly crushed
2 cups lemon juice
2 cups (more or less to taste) sugar
approx. 3 cups water (carbonated or not)
Combine lemon juice and sugar in a saucepan over low heat, stirring until all the sugar dissolves. Remove hea heat. Cool. Add crushed strawberries. Add plain or carbonated water, equal to the volume of the lemon/sugar/strawberry mixture. Serve straight up or over ice.
Ginny shivered and peered down the unfamiliar corridor. “I don’t remember ever being in this part of the school before.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been paying closer attention.” Madame Hooch stopped.
“Should we try to retrace our steps?” Being lost in a dim corner of Hogwarts was not, in Ginny’s opinion, a good idea. She’d seen more of the school’s darker sections than most of her classmates, and she knew how dangerous it could be.
Madame Hooch disagreed. “No good. The stairway has just moved away.” Indeed, the vast open stairwell, lined with paintings, gaped behind them. “The only way out is through. Sometimes, though, there’s a secret door or hidden passage we need to find.” Briskly, she rapped her knuckles against the ancient wood paneling, moved a few steps over and repeated the gesture.
Feeling suddenly faint again, Ginny stepped back to lean against the opposite wall. Her foot encountered something soft. Squeaking, Ginny turned to find herself nose to nose with a shadowy figure. The girl yelped and shoved, propelling herself backwards.
“Ow, Ginny! Calm down, it’s just me!” Neville Longbottom emerged from the shadows, rubbing his sternum. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I, uh, was just taking a break.”
Ginny looked down, blushed, looked up again. “Uh, Neville, you might want to, er…” She gestured towards his open fly.
Swearing softly, Neville turned away to tuck his clothing back into place. Ginny giggled.
Madame Hooch was pounding on the wall with both fists, now, frustrated by the lack of secret passages. “It’s no good. We’ll have to cast lumos and continue forward.” The woman pointed into the darkness.
“Where are you trying to go? I came from the Gryffindor common room. The door’s right behind…” Neville turned. “Oh. Well, there was a door, I think. If there wasn’t a door, how did I get here?”
Ginny tapped on the wall where Neville indicated there had been a door. The panel swung inward slightly. “Hey, I think I found something!” She pushed through the aperture, Neville following closely.
Madame Hooch heard a loud clattering sound, soprano and baritone groans, and then the clearly aggrieved statement from Ginny. “Neville, stop poking me there!”
“I’m not poking you, Ginny.”
“What are you…? OH!”
“Ginny? Neville? What’s happening?” Madame Hooch squinted, trying to penetrate the darkness.
Eventually, Ginny staggered out, her hair all mussed and a bemused expression on her face. “It’s no good. It’s a dead end.”
Neville peeked through the door. “Actually, it’s a broom closet. Madame Hooch, fancy a go?”
The older woman’s eyes lit up. “Let me see! Is the equipment in good shape?”
“I think so, but I’m really not the best judge of such things,” the boy admitted. “Ginny could tell you better than I.”
Ginny shrugged. “You we't t't this shy a minute ago. Go ahead and show her.”
Neville disappeared momentarily, returning with three somewhat seedy looking brooms.
Madame Hooch sighed reverently. “Ah, the old Silver Arrows! Those brooms are practically antiques. But they don’t make them with that level of craftsmanship anymore. They ought to be good flyers, still.” She regarded the two young people. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should fly up the stairwell to the infirmary, or we’ll never get there.” Ginny set her shoulders square. “And I’m well enough to do it, too!”
“Good lass!” Madame Hooch pd Gid Ginny’s shoulder affectionately. “Neville, you take the point position. Ginny can ride between us, and I’ll ride behind.” She accepted one of the Silver Arrows from Neville, who passed the third broom to Ginny. “Are we ready? Mount up!”
***
Professor Snape and Miss Granger both looked startled by Ron’s boisterous entrance. “What? Did I interrupt something? I can leave again if you two want to be alone.” Ron wiggled his eyebrows at Hermione in what he considered a lascivious manner. He laughed at his own joke.
Draco followed him into the infirmary, carrying the second punch bowl with a little more grace. “Cut the chat, Weasel. Where do you want the bowls, Uncle Severus?”
“Place them on that table.” Professor Snape indicated the workspace he had claimed for his own. “Not too close to the cauldron fire, if you please, Mr. Weasley! We are here to test the solutions, not to set them ‘a flambe’!”
“Right-o!” Ron complied, sloshing only a small measure of strawberry lemonade over the side of the bowl. Draco slid his burden onto the table with a little more grace.
The Potions Master gestured the three boys aside. Harry, Draco and Ron moved a few steps away, but hovered expectantly near.
“Gentlemen, you will sit there.” Snape pointed at the row of uncomfortable chairs against the wall near Madame Pomphrey’s office door. His commanding gesture left no room for argument. “Miss Granger, if you would measure out three gills of the strawberry lemonade and place them in this container, we can begin.”
“Professor Snape, now that you have your pick of assistants, may I please be excused?” Hermione clasped her hands primly across her knees.
“You may not be excused.” His voice was cold an implacable but his next words roused a sudden heat in Hermione’s face. “We are not finished with this.” She wondered if he truly intended a double meaning. “Now, Miss Granger?”
With a little spark of hope cherished within her bosom, Hermione joined Snape at the cauldron and measured out three gills of strawberry lemonade. “At least we’re not working with cherry lemonade,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t know if I could bear the irony.”
***
Minerva feared her career was over. She’d been Headmistress of Hogwarts for less than two weeks and already she was sitting on a disaster of epic proportions. Well, she wasn’t exactly sitting on the current disaster. That would have been more of a disaster. No sitting on the students. No sitting on, lying on, rubbing up against or licking the students was allowed, although, she mused, one might possibly justify an exception for many of those actions if she were in cat form. No, this was clearly a disaster on Minerva McGonagall’s watch, and the Board of Governors was going to have her head.
A brief fantasy image flitted across the fevered headmistress’ imagination. Crouching under the table at the next Board of Governor’s meeting, giving head to each of the committee in turn, would that be any way to save her position? Shaking her head to dispel the unproductive thoughts, Professor McGonagall rubbed the bridge of her nose again before replacing her glasses.
She’d failed to empty the Great Hall. The house elves were too busy frolicking to run the cleaning charms. Instead of returning to their dormitories, most of the prefects had led their charges in couples and small groups to darkened corners of the school. Everywhere she turned she saw bare knees, bare midriffs, bare shoulders. All this naked young flesh was more than she could stand. Even the shy glimpse of a well-turned ankle was enough to set her heart racing and her eyes glazing over. Even a couple of suits of armor had gotten into the act. The Kama Sutra plates 1-7 were being graphically demonstrated, in order, down the main entranceway to the school. Minerva wasn’t sure half those poses were physically possible, but the armored figures didn’t seem to have any difficulty with them.
She knew her only hope lay in the infirmary. If Poppy and Severus couldn’t lick this thing together… The image was as brilliantly graphic as it was sudden: Severus licking his way up the white column of Poppy’s throat. Minerva stopped, biting her lower lip to keep a moan from escaping. But surely they wouldn’t be doing anything with Hermione watching, she reasoned. Her overactive imagination supplied a pink-faced Miss Granger watching the passionate couple while touching herself tentatively, her skirt flipped up, white panties drenched with dew. A wicked part of her brain reminded Minerva that quite a few people were destined to join those three in the infirmary. The mental orgy featured a replay of Harry and Draco’s kiss, with Ron in between them this time, Ginny and Madame Hooch pressed against each other murmuring softly, and Madame Pomphrey kneeling between Hermione’s legs to perform a very special examination while Professor Snape straddled her fto cto create a very special kind of potion.
Shaking her head, Minerva removed her glasses once more. She wasn’t sure how she was going to continue to function. Her imagination was running away with her, each new bend in the road revealing more startling and graphic images. Half sobbing, she struggled forward, doing her best to ignore the whispers, the moans, the soft wet noises of kissing, sucking, licking…
Minerva, half blind without her glasses, stumbled over something which yowled loudly. Losing her balance, she grabbed the air, trying to right herself. Strong arms caught her and set her on her feet. It felt as though she’d been dashed with a bucket of very cold water. Her head cleared.
Fumbling her glasses back onto her face, Minerva looked up gratefully. “Argus Filch?”
***
“Well, at least we know it’s not the lemonade.” Professor Snape wiped his hands and set the towel aside while Hermione, ever the dutiful assistant, tidied the mess of their first experiment.
“Strawberry lemonade, Hogwarts style. No additives, preservatives or lust potions.” Hermione grimaced. “Now what?”
“Is there any of the lemonade left?” Ron asked hopefully.
“It’s probably all warm and disgusting.” Draco tossed the warning idly over his shoulder, most of his attention engaged in complicated hand-holding with Harry.
“Why, did you spit in it or something?” Ron felt strangely perturbed by the new closeness between his best friend and their former arch-rival. Any time the pair got too close to him, he felt uneasy, like he had when he’d gotten too close to Ginny, trying to pull her away from Draco on the dance floor. He crossed his legs, and tried to ignore how Harry was resting his head against Draco’s shoulder. Despite his uneasiness, he was really, really horny right now. The uncomfortable wooden chairs were even a bit arousing.
“I wouldn’t spit in sne ene else’s lemonade.” The suggestion offended Draco. “Besides, I’m saving my spit for Harry, here.” He pressed a kiss onto the lighting-shaped scar on the other boy’s forehead.
“Ew!” Hermione shuddered. “I don’t want to know. That’s disgusting.”
Green eyes looked up sadly. “Does it really disgust you?” Harry sniffed gently. He’d always been an emotional boy, but since Voldemort’s defeat, he let his feelings show much more openly.
Hermione spared Harry an apologetic glance. “It’s not that. It’s just the thought of someone spitting in my lemonade… Ew.”
“I detected no saliva in the lemonade, Mr. Weasley, if you wish to, ah, get rid of the evidence, as it were.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t evidence.” Ron wondered if Hermione would notice his stiffie if he stood up, and if she did notice, would she be annoyed or turned on? He decided not to risk it, imagining instead how wonderful her mouth would feel if she could be persuaded to kneel in front of him and open his flies.
“It is not evidence, and we may dispose of it, either down your gullet, or down the drain, it’s all the same to me.”
“Besides, Weasley, you were the one who carried in the lemonade. I was carrying the pumpkin juice,” Draco reminded him.
“Oh, yeah!” Ron’s impassioned exhalation may or may not have been a response to Draco. The redhead’s face was flushed, and his eyes were half closed as he watched Hermione apply elbow grease to the table.
“Should I pour this out, then?” Hermione gestured towards the punch bowl containing the dregs of the lemonade.
“Never mind, He-, erm… Miss Granger.” Snape shielded his mouth with his hand, as if covering a cough. “We’ll start on the pumpkin juice next. Three gills of pumpkin juice in this container, if you please.\"
***
A/N:
I never knew reviews were so addictive. The muse keeps taunting me with the next plot point, so I may update again before the weekend. (Ah, the joys of unemployment!) In the meantime, stay cool and enjoy a little lemony goodness:
Strawberry Lemonade
Strawberries, one pint, utterly crushed
2 cups lemon juice
2 cups (more or less to taste) sugar
approx. 3 cups water (carbonated or not)
Combine lemon juice and sugar in a saucepan over low heat, stirring until all the sugar dissolves. Remove hea heat. Cool. Add crushed strawberries. Add plain or carbonated water, equal to the volume of the lemon/sugar/strawberry mixture. Serve straight up or over ice.