It\'s All Fun and Games Until ...

A/N - The characters in my story are about to settle down for a game of Muggle Monopoly. There is another Fun and Games Challenge response written by Doxeysocks that uses a similar game – Wizardopoly – and I thought there might be enough of a similarity that I should mention it. I had planned out certain parts of my story before I read any of the other entries, but as I only recently fleshed this chapter out, I can’t be certain her story didn’t influence mine. Therefore, I wanted to mention Welcome to the House of Fun by Doxeysocks. I believe I read her story on FF.net originally, if you would like to read it. Thanks.

L-A-S-C-I-V-I-O-U-S x Triple word score = 45 points

Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice and studied the Potions Master from under the safety of the curtain of her hair. After ddingding more juice and some biscuits for the both of them, Professor Snape proceeded to loom next to her chair in a rather Slytherin imitation of Madam Pomfrey’s bedside manner. His disapproving look made it clear that he was greatly inconvenienced by her show of weakness.

She was tempted to remind him that she wouldn’t have been this shaky if he hadn’t fought the spell so hard. She had been forced to expend far more energy than she had wanted, but shear stubbornness had kept her from backing down. Even so, if his defenses hadn’t lowered when they did...

Morgana La Fay herself knew, she had been very close to the breaking point herself. The small bits of ... of someone else, the feeling of closeness that Hermione was used to sharing during the spell had been magnified ten-fold with Draco. The expensive cologne he never left his room without had teased her senses. His voice muttered “No boils” over and over like a mantra in her ear.

But with Professor Snape, it had been a hundred times worse. The moment he said the words to activate the spell she had been overwhelmed by ... by him. His scent – herbs and antiseptic soap, muted spices and the barest hint of dried sweat – wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as she would have expected. Quite the opposite, in fact. Visions of dragging him into the large tub in her private bath invaded her mind and nearly made Hermione step back from him.

That low, deceptively calm voice that normally signified detention or the loss of points had been listing the contents of the potions’ supply closet.

The sound of that velvet smooth voice whispering in her ear had driven her to the point of distraction. That was when she felt her hold on the spell falter and she’d pushed harder, channeling one last burst of energy through her wand.

The press of a muscular chest against her back had been startling, as was the sensation of masculine arms wrapping around her torso. Intellectually Hermione knew that the feeling of a body wrapped around hers had been a by-product of the spell and didn’t really belong to Professor Snape, but that hadn’t stopped the uncontrollable wave of arousal from washing over her.

She’d gasped. Her whole body had trembled with the dual strain of maintaining the spell and fighting the inappropriate need to launch herself at him.

Then it had ended.

After Professor Snape deposited her in the chair, Hermione caught Ginny’s concerned look and smiled reassuringly; even though she wanted nothing more than tho spend the next few moment analyzing the all-too-brief contact.

Hermione took another sip of her juice and studied his profile as he ordered the others to “do whatever it is that you people do at these gatherings.”

Piece by piece, he wasn’t a handsome man. His nose was clearly the dominate feature of his face. While some of the unattractiveness of it could be attributed to an old break that never set correctly, on the whole it appeared to be a cruel trick of genetics.

*Much like your untamable hair. Right, Hermione? People in glass houses and all that.*

Speaking of hair, his was so dark it was nearly indistinguishable from the shadows he was rumored to prowl. The greasiness of his hair was gross, but a strong shampooing (*Or four.*) and a leave-in conditioning treatment similar to the one she used to bully her own hair on special occasions would do wonders.

She was just getting ready to consider ways to adjust his pallor – Way too pale. A little sunlight never killed anyone ... who wasn’t technically dead to begin with. – when she realized he was watching her with that annoying smirk on his lips.

*His lips, now there’s something that needs no alteration. Those lips and the voice that emerges from them, oh, to die for.*

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

Hermione closed her eyes in embarrassment. She’d been caught staring at him. Again. If she wasn’t careful he was going to get suspicious ... well, more so than normal.

*Be calm. Calm and cool and collected. Just look him straight in the eye and...*

“Excuse me,” Hermione mumbled to Professor Snape’s footw Sh She shot out of the chair and across the room, pausing long enough to shove her glass into Ginny’s hand. She ran toward a blank section of wall next to a bookcase.

Seconds before she would have collided with the stone, she whispered “Ausculto, Head Girl’s bath,” and a door appeared and swung open. Hermione rushed through, into the familiar room and was grateful to hear the door close softly behind her.

She offered a few words of thanks to the castle, as the little alcoholic house-elf had taught her to do last year.

Hermione had been trapped in a small room on the second floor during the holiday break of her sixth year. Peeves had locked her in, and she’d screamed herself hoarse trying to break the wards on the door. Eventually one of the house-elves (*Wibbly? Wooby? Dobby’s friend, what’s her name?*) had found her and shown her that there was than one way to exit a locked room.

Wibby had reminded Hermione that the castle has sentient. Anyone who has spent ten minutes in the hall of stairs could understand that, the way staircases shift and doorways and rooms randomly move and disappear. But what few realize is that the castle can be persuaded to respond to requests, within reason, of course. You simply needed to attract the castle’s attention.

Hermione had been pleased to discover a small doorway hidden in a corner of the room Peeves had trapped her in. The door had led to a dark downward staircase that ended with another door. Inexplicably, that door had led to a room at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Since then she had made only a few of requests to the castle and most had been answered. She had learned that to leave a closed room completely, she needed to enter a room or corridor with at least two exits because the first door would invariable send her back to her starting position.

Neither Harry or Ron had been able to make the spell work; either they were doing it wrong or the castle was choosing to ignore them.

There was a reasonable chance that if she or Professor Snape asked, the castle might provide an exit. But Hermione would have to be cursed before she’d tell him that after the way he’d reacted when she tried to help. *Let him figure it out on his own, ungrateful bastard.*

Hermione stopped in front of the sink and turned on the cold water. She raised her wet hands to her face and was surprised to feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. The face staring back at her in the mirror was hers, and yet it wasn’t. Her cheeks were flushed with anger or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure which. (*Or something else entirely. You recognize that tingle in the pit of your stomach, Hermione.*)

She leaned closer to the mirror as her hands gripped the sides of the sink for balance. Her eyes were almost all pupil, the irises reduced to a thin sliver of dark brown.

The knock at the door startled her. Her eyes rapidly searched the room’s reflection in the mirror, making sure there were no used towels thrown on the floor or dirty articles of clothing tossed in a corner. The room was just as she remembered leaving it this morning, everything put away in anticipation of the day. (As the room of requirements normally neglected to provide access to a restroom and the closest public facilities were on another floor entirely, Hermione was used to summoning her own bath for Fun Day.)

There was another rapid knock at the door, followed by the impatient voice of Ginny. “Hermione, I’m coming in on the count of three. One. Two.”

Before Ginny could finish her countdown, Hermione opened the door just wide enough for the younger girl to slip through.

Ginny carefully shut the door and looked at her friend. “Are you okay? You’ve been in here for, like, ten minutes. Even Snape...”

“Professor Snape.” Hermione corrected her out of habit.

Ginny rolled her eyes in response. “Even Professor Snape seemed almost concerned.”

Hermione busied herself straightening towels. “He did?”

Ginny cast a cushioning charm on the toilet lid an made herself comfortable.

“He asked where the door led and Hannah told him it was the bathroom.” She flashed a calculating look at Hermione. “He asked why the door wasn’t there before and, since you and I are the only two that know this is your bathroom instead of some random restroom, that would have opened a whole can of headless chickens – eventually leading us to leaving and my not spending the day flirting with Draco – so I made something up.”

“A can of headless chickens?” Hermione turned to stare the other girl. “That’s a new one.”

The redhead waved her hand dismissively. “Dad’s started saying it all the time. I think it’s a Muggle thing.

“The point is that you haven’t said anything to Sna... Professor Snape, and we both know that you would have told him by now if you were going to.

“I figured you wanted to spend the day with you Mr. Humbert Humbert, my little Lolita.”

“Ginny!” Hermione threw a horrified look at the door as if expecting Professor Snape and some kind of board of ethics to come crashing through at any second. “Remind me never to loan you any more of my books!”

“What? You’re seventeen. It’s all perfectly legal if you want to catch him in some corner, wrestle him to the ground and snog him ‘til your eyes cross.”

With one last worried glance at the door, Hermione began to pace. “Could you be a little quieter, please? The entire castle does not need to hear. Seventeen or not, I’m still his student for a few more weeks and that makes it forbidden.” She stopped dead and covered her face with her hands as she realized what she’d revealed.

Ginny fairly bounced on her seat. “Gotcha. I thought you said you didn’t perv over guys like the rest of us?”

That produced a stern look. “First of all, it’s not perving. And I never said I didn’t perv, I said I didn’t talk about it. Unlike a certain person whose attraction to a particular blond Slytherin has been an open topic in the common room for over a month.”

“I only talk about it because it drives Ron nuts. If it was up to Ron I’d be in a nunnery or dating Harry. Practically the same, either way.

“And stop trying to change the subject. Admit it, you lust after tall, dark and ... erm, dark.”

Hermione sat on the edge of the large tub. “Was he really concerned about me?”

Ginny leaned closer. “He asked me to quote – Make sure Miss Granger has not passed out and drowned in the facilities – end quote. Considering who was talking, it sounded like concern to me.”

There was a resonating thump against the door that would have caused Hermione to over-balance into the tub but for Ginny’s quick reflexes.

“Miss Weasley? Miss Granger? Am I going to need to send in a searching party?” Professor Snape’s faintly mocking voice echoed through the room.

Both girls immediately jumped up from their seats.

“Do you think he heard us?” Hermione whispered.

“Doubtful. Unless he was listening at the keyhole.” Ginny whispered back.

Hermione took a deep, calming breath and pulled the door open.

Professor Snape stood on the other side, hand upraised to knock. Ginny darted under his arm with a muttered “Excuse me, sir”, leaving Hermione to face him alone.

Gracefully he lowered his arm, and Hermione was once again reminded of the phantom feel of those arms holding her close.

“Are you going to live, Miss Granger, or should I send for Madam Pomfrey?”

Hermione strengthened her resolve and looked him square in the chin. “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’m fine.”

He made a snort of disbelief low in his throat and turned; his robes twirling out behind him, the fabric snapping against her legs.

Hermione followed him to the cluster of people near the fireplace, mentally berating herself for not having a better come back.

In the meantime, Ginny had pulled the Monopoly box out of Hermione’s bag and begun setting up the board on a low table in front of the sofa.

“Look, Draco, it’s simple. The whole point is to buy as much property as possible and collect gobs of this play money. You bankrupt everyone else and you win.” Ernie held up a handful of the colorful bills.

Ginny snatched the money out of his hand and finished counting out eight sets of starting money. “There’s more to it than that. When we play at the Burrow it’s about making deals. That’s why I asked Hermione to bring the game today.

“Hannah, would you grab some stuff we can turn into tokens? We’re short two since George charmed some of the pieces last summer and they ran away.”

Hannah dropped a bottle cap and a knut on to the center of the board, before sitting on the floor across from Ginny.

Hermione did the math and realized that if Ginny wanted two more tokens she was expecting eight players, which meant she was expecting Professor Snape to play.

Hermione glanced over to see if he had made the same connection but his face was too hard to read.

Ginny gestured to the empty space on her left. “I’ve played this several times. If you’d like, I could explain things as we go, Draco. In case you have any questions.”

If he was surprised by the offer, Draco hid it well. Cautiously he slid from the couch to the floor next to Ginny. He looked around as if expecting a small army of Weasley males to jump out from behind the furniture and hex him.

“Tell me of these ‘deals’, Weas... Ginny.”

She handed him a small stack of brightly colored money and gestured for everyone else to join them on the floor. “Hermione calls them house rules. Normally when you land on someone’s property, you pay them rent.” Ginny indicated the rent amount listed on the card for Marvin Gardens.

Everyone found a seat around the table – Hermione on Ginny’s right, then Terry, Padma, Ernie and Hannah. Leaving the spot next to Draco, in front of the sofa, empty.

“However, if I have neither the money or the inclination to pay you, we start negotiating. You always have the right to demand the money, of course, although never more than the listed rental fee.”

“Negotiate for what?” Ernie seemed intrigued by the game variation.

As Ginny talked Hannah began shifting through the token pieces. She would pick one up, examine it with a look of confusion and then tap it with her wand.

“Whatever you want – land, free passage, acts of stupidity ... whatever. Fred managed to get Ron to run around the yard, flapping his arms, clucking like a chicken for a good five minutes. Just as long as a deal is struck to the satisfaction of both parties.”

Hermione hid her grin behind a convenient coughing fit. Gryffindors have never been known for their subtlety – Weasleys even less so – but the way Ginny’s voice dropped for that last bit and the way she looked at Draco through her eyelashes ... it was obvious what she was trying to convey.

Draco’s smirk could only be described as lascivious. “I’m sure we could work out something to our mutual satisfaction.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. Malfoy.” Professor Snape didn’t even turn away from the contents of the bookshelf he was perusing to see Draco’s reaction.

Hermione’s coughing fit returned and a red-faced Ginny jumped up to bring her a glass of water.

Hermione took over explaining the rules for Draco and Padma and answering questions for the others who hadn’t played the Muggle game for a few years.

Hannah finished adjusting the tokens to her liking.

“Are you ready to play, Professor Snape?” she asked as she began to line the tokens up on the table.

He turned from the bookshelf, both brows arched in surprise. “Pardon? I don’t think so, Miss Abbott.”

Hermione thought Hannah looked hurt and she reached out to pat the delicate girl’s hand.

“Are you sure, sir? I’ve made you a special piece.” Hannah pointed to the row of tokens.

Hannah had always been very good at Transfiguratisomesomething that was readily apparent to everyone in the room as the small, silver pieces began to move. Each piece was just under two inches tall and appeared to be made of pewter.

There was the Scotty dog Hermione remred,red, slightly larger than normal, wi sma small person astride its back. Hermione leaned closer. The person was Hannah, complete with a tiny Hufflepuff crest on her little school robe! The pewter Hannah leaned forward to pet the neck of her mount.

“Nice detail.” Terry was inspecting his pewter double sitting on the toe of a large shoe.

Padma’s double had replaced the horseman, Ernie’s was leaning on the top hat. Draco’s car kept circling Ginny’s wheelbarrow.

The small Hermione was sitting on a pile of books, one open in her hands as she seemed to be reading, although she would look up every few moments to glance at the other tokens and shake her head.

The final piece was a table covered in tiny bowls and jars with a small cauldron bubbling away on one side. A very stern looking miniature Snape had his back to the other pieces and appeared to be doing his best to ignore the entire group.

Professor Snape approached the table with obvious reluctance.

Padma gathered her starting money and nodded to her double to take its place in the “Go” square. “It’s going to be a very long afternoon, Professor. You might as well make the best of it.”

______________________________________________________

A/N Thanks to everyone who\'s sent kindness and support my way this last month. My Husband leaves for Basic Training in a little under two weeks. Today is our two year wedding anniversary and he was able to postpone leaving so that we could spend the day together. Anyway, thanks again.