On a Hot Summer Night
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
21
Views:
9,287
Reviews:
42
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
21
Views:
9,287
Reviews:
42
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 I
[AN]: This is my first HP fan-fic. Inspired by You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night) by Meat Loaf especially the intro:
BOY: On a hot summer night would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
GIRL: Will he offer me his mouth?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Will he offer me his teeth?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Will he offer me his jaws?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Will he offer me his hunger?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Again, will he offer me his hunger?
BOY: Yes!
GIRL: And will he starve without me?
BOY: Yes!
GIRL: And does he love me?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Yes
BOY: On a hot summer night would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
GIRL: Yes
BOY: I bet you to say that to all the boys.
This is more exposition than anything, but I will have a 'flashback' in later chapters. [/AN]
The cold hit her cheek as she turned around to face the city skyline. Who knew she would ever be in America. A place which stole most of its identity from England, as far as she was concerned. Of course, she had skimmed the muggle history books, learning about the Revolution, however she always remained unimpressed. The years of independence had done something to this country. Some sort of freedom that she felt she lacked in London. True, her former apartment was technically located in muggle London, but since Harry had defeated Voldemort, it was hard to define magical and muggle lines anymore. The world had learned about magic. With that came the Ministry with a new set of problems; some muggles wanted to be magical, some muggles were frustrated, some leaders of the world wanted to eradicate the 'problem'.
To escape this, Hermione recently moved to New York. The year was 2009, and she would be technically 30. Years ago...years ago. Lost in thought, and on the roof of a skyscraper would make some think she was a mad woman. She was no such thing. The final battle had left some with wounds too great to heal. The scar was on her wrist, and as the two pin pricks had faded to look like birthmarks, they represented something else to her.
No one knew her in New York. There weren't passerbys gathering in corners to stare at her on her way to the market exclaiming to themselves, "That's her! That's Potter's friend!". She was not known for her intelligence. Since she graduated Hogwarts, she had written several papers that made leaps in magical advances. Published, and renowned by scholars, all she heard was Harry bloody Potter. Now, she was still his friend. He and Ginny made a great couple. And although she had gone though a small phase of liking him, she knew it was hopeless. It didn't make her jealous however. Just...reserved. If there was a man out there for her, they would never accept her for anything but someone instrumental in the final battle. Someone with scars to bear.
Everyone thought that she and Ron would make a perfect couple. They tried. They really did. She did at least. He was just, too stubborn for her. Although he admired her for her brains, he never really grasped the importance of some of her accomplishments. She needed a man she could ask for help on her papers and research, not someone who thought it was nonsense to write them.
She was the one to break the news that the relationship wasn't heading in the right direction, and he fell apart. He had tried to kill himself a few times, but he would never actually go through with it. They were attempts to earn Hermione's attention. At first, they worked. She would run to his bedside at St. Mungo's and hold his hand while they ran psychological tests on him. Merging the magical and muggle worlds sometimes had its advantages. The doctors found nothing really wrong with him, just that he was a love-sick puppy. Now, he had gotten himself addicted to alcohol, which was something that Hermione didn't want to fish him out of. She found it foolish.
The closest magical school was Salem Massachusetts, for the East Coast. School was just out of session in the month of June, as it was now. She could see some students with wands, performing simple spells, as the USA government allowed. Nothing harmful. Just really to ease the population that magic was harmless. Cover up things that they were really learning in school. America had embraced the magical population, realizing that they had been living there from the time of the Pilgrims. They had even created a new Cabinet branch: Department of Magical Affairs. Witches and wizards were enlisted into the Army, and America was the only country doing this at the time. It sure helped in places like Iraq, where the witches and wizards could stop a bomb from exploding, saving lives on both sides.
Hermione went back inside and ran down the stairs to the top floor, where she used the elevator to get to the floor with her apartment. Running to the fridge, she grabbed the large jug and poured herself a glass of the thick liquid. Slowly she sipped on it, tasting the subtle nuances of the concoction, like a fine red wine. Too thirsty to just have a tease, she gulped the rest down, not caring of the few drops running down her chin and staining her shirt. She blocked out so much of the outside world that she failed to notice the dark figure sitting on her sofa, waiting for her to finish.
"Do you know how long it took me to track you down?"
The voice startled her, and she placed the glass in the sink, putting some water inside so that the glass wouldn't stain permanently. She stared with cold eyes at the figure, and knew immediately who it was, and why she was being flooded with memories on this day. It was the day after the final battle. Her last day alive.
BOY: On a hot summer night would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
GIRL: Will he offer me his mouth?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Will he offer me his teeth?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Will he offer me his jaws?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Will he offer me his hunger?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Again, will he offer me his hunger?
BOY: Yes!
GIRL: And will he starve without me?
BOY: Yes!
GIRL: And does he love me?
BOY: Yes
GIRL: Yes
BOY: On a hot summer night would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
GIRL: Yes
BOY: I bet you to say that to all the boys.
This is more exposition than anything, but I will have a 'flashback' in later chapters. [/AN]
The cold hit her cheek as she turned around to face the city skyline. Who knew she would ever be in America. A place which stole most of its identity from England, as far as she was concerned. Of course, she had skimmed the muggle history books, learning about the Revolution, however she always remained unimpressed. The years of independence had done something to this country. Some sort of freedom that she felt she lacked in London. True, her former apartment was technically located in muggle London, but since Harry had defeated Voldemort, it was hard to define magical and muggle lines anymore. The world had learned about magic. With that came the Ministry with a new set of problems; some muggles wanted to be magical, some muggles were frustrated, some leaders of the world wanted to eradicate the 'problem'.
To escape this, Hermione recently moved to New York. The year was 2009, and she would be technically 30. Years ago...years ago. Lost in thought, and on the roof of a skyscraper would make some think she was a mad woman. She was no such thing. The final battle had left some with wounds too great to heal. The scar was on her wrist, and as the two pin pricks had faded to look like birthmarks, they represented something else to her.
No one knew her in New York. There weren't passerbys gathering in corners to stare at her on her way to the market exclaiming to themselves, "That's her! That's Potter's friend!". She was not known for her intelligence. Since she graduated Hogwarts, she had written several papers that made leaps in magical advances. Published, and renowned by scholars, all she heard was Harry bloody Potter. Now, she was still his friend. He and Ginny made a great couple. And although she had gone though a small phase of liking him, she knew it was hopeless. It didn't make her jealous however. Just...reserved. If there was a man out there for her, they would never accept her for anything but someone instrumental in the final battle. Someone with scars to bear.
Everyone thought that she and Ron would make a perfect couple. They tried. They really did. She did at least. He was just, too stubborn for her. Although he admired her for her brains, he never really grasped the importance of some of her accomplishments. She needed a man she could ask for help on her papers and research, not someone who thought it was nonsense to write them.
She was the one to break the news that the relationship wasn't heading in the right direction, and he fell apart. He had tried to kill himself a few times, but he would never actually go through with it. They were attempts to earn Hermione's attention. At first, they worked. She would run to his bedside at St. Mungo's and hold his hand while they ran psychological tests on him. Merging the magical and muggle worlds sometimes had its advantages. The doctors found nothing really wrong with him, just that he was a love-sick puppy. Now, he had gotten himself addicted to alcohol, which was something that Hermione didn't want to fish him out of. She found it foolish.
The closest magical school was Salem Massachusetts, for the East Coast. School was just out of session in the month of June, as it was now. She could see some students with wands, performing simple spells, as the USA government allowed. Nothing harmful. Just really to ease the population that magic was harmless. Cover up things that they were really learning in school. America had embraced the magical population, realizing that they had been living there from the time of the Pilgrims. They had even created a new Cabinet branch: Department of Magical Affairs. Witches and wizards were enlisted into the Army, and America was the only country doing this at the time. It sure helped in places like Iraq, where the witches and wizards could stop a bomb from exploding, saving lives on both sides.
Hermione went back inside and ran down the stairs to the top floor, where she used the elevator to get to the floor with her apartment. Running to the fridge, she grabbed the large jug and poured herself a glass of the thick liquid. Slowly she sipped on it, tasting the subtle nuances of the concoction, like a fine red wine. Too thirsty to just have a tease, she gulped the rest down, not caring of the few drops running down her chin and staining her shirt. She blocked out so much of the outside world that she failed to notice the dark figure sitting on her sofa, waiting for her to finish.
"Do you know how long it took me to track you down?"
The voice startled her, and she placed the glass in the sink, putting some water inside so that the glass wouldn't stain permanently. She stared with cold eyes at the figure, and knew immediately who it was, and why she was being flooded with memories on this day. It was the day after the final battle. Her last day alive.