A Sad and Happy Story
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,622
Reviews:
26
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,622
Reviews:
26
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 Six
Chapter Six
The stage was set; the potion was one that even Longbottom couldn’t screw up, but there would still be plenty of explosions. But today, Longbottom would get a reprieve. Potter and Weasley were the targets; and they sat together.
It was a brilliant plan. Perfect down to the teeniest detail. The potion the class would be preparing was a baseline potion, a very flexible potion. If one were to need a potion on short notice, there were a number of workable creations that could come from adding one or two ingredients to this mixture. It was handy in hospital settings, and handy if you were an irate potions master seeking revenge.
The unsuspecting prey entered the bat layer. ‘And now my mind sounds like a bad film noir,’ Severus thought. Maybe Albus was right, he really was missing out on the fun in life. This would be enjoyable and if it went badly, it was still the old man’s fault. Brilliant.
Once the class had settled in and begun their work, Severus decided it was time to implement his plan. Sweeping through the classroom like a great bat, but doing so stealthily, he made his way circuitously toward Potter and Weasley’s cauldrons.
What he needed for each of them was stashed in his sleeves. Weasley would be first, and worst. He was the primary offender, after all. Potter was just a bone-head, er, bonus.
Severus considered a number of punishments for Weasley until it occurred to him that he should let the punishment fit the crime. Since Weasley was the ladies’ man, why not splash a potion on him that would cause him to walk around with a perpetual, ehm, problem. Here’s hoping Weasley would be big enough to actually make it embarrassing.
Now as for Potter, since he had not come to his friend’s aid, once the extra ingredient was slipped into his cauldron a small splash would render him mute for a good few days. Yes, let the punishment fit the crime.
Young Miss Weasley may be out of Severus’ reach, but then someone would have to explain the situation to Miss Granger and it sure as hell wouldn’t be him. No, as far as she was concerned this was merely the healthy return of Evil SnapeTM and nothing more.
The perfect opportunity: Potter and Weasley were rather huddled, probably discussing quidditch. Points will be taken later, to add insult to injury. Just for good measure.
Phase one: Severus ghosted his hand over Mr. Weasley’s cauldron, cautious not to splash himself. He smirked as he considered his next move. Miss Granger had lit his robes on fire once, to get him to move; not subtle, but definitely effective. Wandlessly and wordlessly—and to everyone else, mysteriously—Ronald Weasley’s robes caught on fire, which caused general panic in the classroom. Weasley, unrefined baboon he was, flapped around like an injured hippogriff, spilling his potion all over himself.
“Evanesco,” came a smooth, deep voice from across the room, “Do be more careful, Weasley. Twenty points from Gryffindor. And don’t look at me like that, it could just as easily be fifty.”
Severus had, of course, vanished Ron’s robe, leaving him in a shirt and trousers—tented trousers.
“Erm, Ron?” Severus heard Potter whisper.
“What,” Weasley snapped back.
“You want to borrow my robe,” Potter said uncomfortably, through clenched teeth.
“Why would I—oh, shit.”
Harry had been quick, but not quick enough. Pansy Parkinson snickered. Now it seemed the whole school was on its way to learning exactly how much Ron Weasley liked fire. Severus hadn’t considered that particular additional benefit, but smirked and accepted it anyway.
Phase two: While Potter and Weasley were exchanging clothing, a sneaky, sneaky Slytherin hand had slipped over Harry’s cauldron. This would probably be the best part, and it was how he rationalized all this to himself: any benefit to Miss Granger would be the by-product of shutting up dear Harry for a prolonged period of time. Nice.
Severus swept across the classroom. When he had reached a safe distance, he observed Mr. Malfoy crossing the room for supplies. He was in direct route to Potter’s workspace. No doubt there would be some interplay there, and it was the opportunity he had been waiting for. Just as Mr. Malfoy delivered his witty epithet, Severus caused him to knock Potter’s cauldron over, splashing them both. Oh, another unexpected bonus. ‘If it were only that easy with his father,’ Severus thought, frowning. ‘Best deal with this now.’
“Why so clumsy today, Potter? I must take twenty more points from Gryffindor, I fear. One day you and Mr. Weasley will learn how to conduct yourselves in a learning environment. Get back to your own workspace, Mr. Malfoy.”
Both raised their voices to argue, or tried to, anyway.
Severus raised an eyebrow as both boys’ mouths hung open.
“Oh, dear. I fear there has been an accident. Some careless student,” he glared hard at Harry and Ron, “perhaps? Mr. Weasley, you will escort Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy to the headmaster’s office. Madame Pomfrey is away.”
The three left the classroom quickly, trying to preserve what little dignity they had left. Of course Madame Pomfrey would be away; she never failed to right them. Dumbledore would probably offer them candy, pat them on the shoulder, and wax poetic about what a great life experience it was.
“I don’t believe it,” Ron groused, “I mean, it’s really dangerous what’s happened to me! What if—oh, gods, Harry—what if I lose my bits?! I mean, they could just fall off! Mum would go ballistic!”
Malfoy tried with all his might to snigger; his eyes bulged instead. ‘He’s going to lose his bits and he thinks of his mum?!’
Harry threw out his arm and hit Ron squarely in the middle, hard. It was going to be a long day.
All Harry could think was that now he had no means of shutting Ron up.
***
That evening at dinner, the Headmaster turned his attentions on the Potions Master.
“Severus, do you feel quite safe teaching?”
“Whatever do you mean? Are you implying that somehow these dunderheads are more dangerous than the Dark Lord, because I may be inclined to agree.”
“Well, from what I have heard about our young Mr. Weasley’s… proclivities… recently, I thought that perhaps you might like an alternate heat source for your cauldrons.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, but of course I didn’t hear it from either Mr. Potter or Mr. Malfoy.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you know why I didn’t hear it from them, Severus?”
“I’m sure I don’t, Headmaster, but you seem to think I do. I’m sure it was some stupid mistake that one of those budding… geniuses… committed while I was trying to keep Longbottom from rocking the castle’s foundations.”
“Yes, Severus. One mistake I could see. But two, so close together effecting students I know aggravate you? It seems too good to be true.”
“Perhaps, Headmaster, after all this time, it is my lucky day.”
***
Hermione sat a small distance from her “friends” considering their very interesting circumstances. How had that happened? She knew that neither of the boys was particularly bright, but they weren’t that dumb… Harry wasn’t, anyway.
Had -he- done it? More importantly, had he done it for her? That was almost romantic in a twisted way. He probably didn’t mean it to be romantic. She needed to talk to him, to ask him about these mysterious “accidents.”
Down Gryffindor table, Ron managed to pull himself away from Lav-Lav—who Hermione could tell was going to greatly benefit from this potions accident—long enough to shout out in shock, “Oi, Hermione, you’ve got an owl for once!”
Sure enough, one of the school owls had landed on the table next to her. She took the letter and it left, evidently it did not expect her to reply.
“Miss Granger,
Should you find yourself in need of further distraction, I would be most appreciative if you would spare me the pain of my second years’ exams.”
There was no need to sign it, she knew who had sent and she fully planned to join him again this evening. She got up and left the Great Hall with her head held high, and a smile on her face.
Something in Severus began to warm at the look on Miss Granger’s face. He had made her feel better. He felt… proud.
A/N: Friends, thank you for the reviews—and the insight on the title. Now I like it better. :) Thanks! I can’t guarantee this next installment makes since, as I have been fighting off a round of vertigo (as Mommaw used to say, “Take a trip and never leave the farm!”). Wheee! Also, Ron revenge has officially commenced!
Oh, and FYI, according to the all-knowing Wikipedia, Film Noir is a cinematic term used primarily to describe stylish Hollywood crime dramas, particularly those that emphasize moral ambiguity and sexual motivation. Time period is approximately 1940-1950, based on German expressionist film. Found it by accident, kept it because it was priceless.
The stage was set; the potion was one that even Longbottom couldn’t screw up, but there would still be plenty of explosions. But today, Longbottom would get a reprieve. Potter and Weasley were the targets; and they sat together.
It was a brilliant plan. Perfect down to the teeniest detail. The potion the class would be preparing was a baseline potion, a very flexible potion. If one were to need a potion on short notice, there were a number of workable creations that could come from adding one or two ingredients to this mixture. It was handy in hospital settings, and handy if you were an irate potions master seeking revenge.
The unsuspecting prey entered the bat layer. ‘And now my mind sounds like a bad film noir,’ Severus thought. Maybe Albus was right, he really was missing out on the fun in life. This would be enjoyable and if it went badly, it was still the old man’s fault. Brilliant.
Once the class had settled in and begun their work, Severus decided it was time to implement his plan. Sweeping through the classroom like a great bat, but doing so stealthily, he made his way circuitously toward Potter and Weasley’s cauldrons.
What he needed for each of them was stashed in his sleeves. Weasley would be first, and worst. He was the primary offender, after all. Potter was just a bone-head, er, bonus.
Severus considered a number of punishments for Weasley until it occurred to him that he should let the punishment fit the crime. Since Weasley was the ladies’ man, why not splash a potion on him that would cause him to walk around with a perpetual, ehm, problem. Here’s hoping Weasley would be big enough to actually make it embarrassing.
Now as for Potter, since he had not come to his friend’s aid, once the extra ingredient was slipped into his cauldron a small splash would render him mute for a good few days. Yes, let the punishment fit the crime.
Young Miss Weasley may be out of Severus’ reach, but then someone would have to explain the situation to Miss Granger and it sure as hell wouldn’t be him. No, as far as she was concerned this was merely the healthy return of Evil SnapeTM and nothing more.
The perfect opportunity: Potter and Weasley were rather huddled, probably discussing quidditch. Points will be taken later, to add insult to injury. Just for good measure.
Phase one: Severus ghosted his hand over Mr. Weasley’s cauldron, cautious not to splash himself. He smirked as he considered his next move. Miss Granger had lit his robes on fire once, to get him to move; not subtle, but definitely effective. Wandlessly and wordlessly—and to everyone else, mysteriously—Ronald Weasley’s robes caught on fire, which caused general panic in the classroom. Weasley, unrefined baboon he was, flapped around like an injured hippogriff, spilling his potion all over himself.
“Evanesco,” came a smooth, deep voice from across the room, “Do be more careful, Weasley. Twenty points from Gryffindor. And don’t look at me like that, it could just as easily be fifty.”
Severus had, of course, vanished Ron’s robe, leaving him in a shirt and trousers—tented trousers.
“Erm, Ron?” Severus heard Potter whisper.
“What,” Weasley snapped back.
“You want to borrow my robe,” Potter said uncomfortably, through clenched teeth.
“Why would I—oh, shit.”
Harry had been quick, but not quick enough. Pansy Parkinson snickered. Now it seemed the whole school was on its way to learning exactly how much Ron Weasley liked fire. Severus hadn’t considered that particular additional benefit, but smirked and accepted it anyway.
Phase two: While Potter and Weasley were exchanging clothing, a sneaky, sneaky Slytherin hand had slipped over Harry’s cauldron. This would probably be the best part, and it was how he rationalized all this to himself: any benefit to Miss Granger would be the by-product of shutting up dear Harry for a prolonged period of time. Nice.
Severus swept across the classroom. When he had reached a safe distance, he observed Mr. Malfoy crossing the room for supplies. He was in direct route to Potter’s workspace. No doubt there would be some interplay there, and it was the opportunity he had been waiting for. Just as Mr. Malfoy delivered his witty epithet, Severus caused him to knock Potter’s cauldron over, splashing them both. Oh, another unexpected bonus. ‘If it were only that easy with his father,’ Severus thought, frowning. ‘Best deal with this now.’
“Why so clumsy today, Potter? I must take twenty more points from Gryffindor, I fear. One day you and Mr. Weasley will learn how to conduct yourselves in a learning environment. Get back to your own workspace, Mr. Malfoy.”
Both raised their voices to argue, or tried to, anyway.
Severus raised an eyebrow as both boys’ mouths hung open.
“Oh, dear. I fear there has been an accident. Some careless student,” he glared hard at Harry and Ron, “perhaps? Mr. Weasley, you will escort Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy to the headmaster’s office. Madame Pomfrey is away.”
The three left the classroom quickly, trying to preserve what little dignity they had left. Of course Madame Pomfrey would be away; she never failed to right them. Dumbledore would probably offer them candy, pat them on the shoulder, and wax poetic about what a great life experience it was.
“I don’t believe it,” Ron groused, “I mean, it’s really dangerous what’s happened to me! What if—oh, gods, Harry—what if I lose my bits?! I mean, they could just fall off! Mum would go ballistic!”
Malfoy tried with all his might to snigger; his eyes bulged instead. ‘He’s going to lose his bits and he thinks of his mum?!’
Harry threw out his arm and hit Ron squarely in the middle, hard. It was going to be a long day.
All Harry could think was that now he had no means of shutting Ron up.
***
That evening at dinner, the Headmaster turned his attentions on the Potions Master.
“Severus, do you feel quite safe teaching?”
“Whatever do you mean? Are you implying that somehow these dunderheads are more dangerous than the Dark Lord, because I may be inclined to agree.”
“Well, from what I have heard about our young Mr. Weasley’s… proclivities… recently, I thought that perhaps you might like an alternate heat source for your cauldrons.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, but of course I didn’t hear it from either Mr. Potter or Mr. Malfoy.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you know why I didn’t hear it from them, Severus?”
“I’m sure I don’t, Headmaster, but you seem to think I do. I’m sure it was some stupid mistake that one of those budding… geniuses… committed while I was trying to keep Longbottom from rocking the castle’s foundations.”
“Yes, Severus. One mistake I could see. But two, so close together effecting students I know aggravate you? It seems too good to be true.”
“Perhaps, Headmaster, after all this time, it is my lucky day.”
***
Hermione sat a small distance from her “friends” considering their very interesting circumstances. How had that happened? She knew that neither of the boys was particularly bright, but they weren’t that dumb… Harry wasn’t, anyway.
Had -he- done it? More importantly, had he done it for her? That was almost romantic in a twisted way. He probably didn’t mean it to be romantic. She needed to talk to him, to ask him about these mysterious “accidents.”
Down Gryffindor table, Ron managed to pull himself away from Lav-Lav—who Hermione could tell was going to greatly benefit from this potions accident—long enough to shout out in shock, “Oi, Hermione, you’ve got an owl for once!”
Sure enough, one of the school owls had landed on the table next to her. She took the letter and it left, evidently it did not expect her to reply.
“Miss Granger,
Should you find yourself in need of further distraction, I would be most appreciative if you would spare me the pain of my second years’ exams.”
There was no need to sign it, she knew who had sent and she fully planned to join him again this evening. She got up and left the Great Hall with her head held high, and a smile on her face.
Something in Severus began to warm at the look on Miss Granger’s face. He had made her feel better. He felt… proud.
A/N: Friends, thank you for the reviews—and the insight on the title. Now I like it better. :) Thanks! I can’t guarantee this next installment makes since, as I have been fighting off a round of vertigo (as Mommaw used to say, “Take a trip and never leave the farm!”). Wheee! Also, Ron revenge has officially commenced!
Oh, and FYI, according to the all-knowing Wikipedia, Film Noir is a cinematic term used primarily to describe stylish Hollywood crime dramas, particularly those that emphasize moral ambiguity and sexual motivation. Time period is approximately 1940-1950, based on German expressionist film. Found it by accident, kept it because it was priceless.