A Sad and Happy Story
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,616
Reviews:
26
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,616
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.
A Sad and Happy Story
I originally developed this for Ms_Figg’s 100 Ways to Kill a Weasley concept. I have decided to make it a bit more serious and a bit lengthier. We’ll see how that goes. The original may be found here: http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600014657&chapter=72
This time, Ron won’t die. SS/HG will ensue and get graphic at some point, probably while she’s still in school because who wants to wait? I don’t, you don’t, they don’t.
I don’t really know what all will happen, but isn’t that part of the fun?
Chapter One
It was beyond infuriating, it was disgusting, it was repulsive. Animals had better control over their basest instincts than did Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown. It didn’t bother Harry; he was busy with Ginny, and the only time he and Ginny had time was when Ron was distracted. So he didn’t complain. Once again, Hermione was left alone. Just alone. Again.
Usually, she just felt sorry for herself when this happened. Sometimes, if she was unlucky, Luna Lovegood descended upon her. Hermione knew that if she stayed holed up in the Gryffindor common room, odds of -that- happening weren’t good, which was good.
While she was brooding alone by the fireside, Hermione watched Parvati Patil enter the common room and dash over to “Ronender” (of all the names that she and Ginny had devised for the couple, this name was particularly amusing to Hermione because of the not-so-subtle, much less innocent second meaning) and steal Lavender away to discuss some vital aspect of astrology which she assumed was due the next day.
Hermione used her chance to approach Ron. Getting up, she approached him slowly, not walking straight up to him, but rather making it look like an accident.
“Ronald,” she said icily.
“Oh, no. I know what this is about, Hermione, and I’m not going there. I’m not interested, okay?”
“Ronald, you are so pig-headed! You, you ASSUME that I, that I what, exactly?”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious Hermione,” he said, a bit loudly, “that you’re jealous of Lavender and you’re jealous because you want me.”
“Ronald Weasley, that is the most presumptuous…”
“And you know what else, Hermione? Yeah, you’re not the only one who knows things. You’re jealous of Harry, too, ‘cause he took your best friend away and now you have no one to have a pity party with!”
“Honestly, Ronald!”
“No, no, you listen! You aren’t pretty, you don’t know what guys like! Why would I ever want to be with you when I can have her?”
“Ronald, you really think I would want to be with you?”
“No, Hermione, that’s absurd. You love me. Everybody knows it. What kind of girl wouldn’t want to be with a guy she loves?”
“Ronald, that’s horrible! What an awful thing to say!” Her tone was one of pure, unadulterated shock.
“Sorry, babe, I guess it was never meant to be,” he said coldly as Lav-Lav wandered back from her little meeting of the minds with Parvati. Good grief, what a joke.
Hermione felt ill; the room spun around her several times and her cheeks burnt red. All of a sudden, Hermione was acutely aware of all the eyes on her. She had to get out of the Common Room. Her bed was not an option. -They- were there; they were -her- friends, not Hermione’s. There was no escape to be found in Gryffindor. Hermione managed some measure of poise as she slowly, deliberately walked toward the portrait and freedom. As tears stung her eyes, she made her way out of the Gryffindor common room feeling as though she were under a spot light in slow motion.
As she made her way into the dark castle corridors, Hermione’s mind was on overdrive, more so than usual.
Ginny would have defended her. Ginny would intimidate Ron with her Mrs. Weasley impersonation until he apologized. Harry might have been avoiding her, but he could have stopped Ron. Why hadn’t he been there? It was all his fault, anyway. It had to be. Hermione knew that despite her wishes, Harry had confronted Ron about hurting her feelings by ignoring her. If not for Harry, none of this would EVER have happened.
Really, there were plenty to share that blame. Harry, Lavender, Won-Won, the fools who suggested she needed another year of magical education after Voldemort was defeated... She gave an exasperated sigh.
Even after Hermione had placed a significant amount of space between herself and Gryffindor tower, she felt flushed and hot with anger and shame. Almost unconsciously, Hermione sought out the cool of the dungeons. The deep dark and soothing green tints would be soothing. Maybe she could stand near the door of the dungeon classroom—she could listen to Professor Snape work. She was sure he never rested. Besides, even if she failed to listen in unmolested, a tête-à-tête with Malfoy was preferable to any more time around the people who called themselves her friends.
As she continued to ruminate on her circumstances, quite against her wishes, hot tears began to fill her eyes and run down her face.
‘Great,’ Hermione thought, ‘another embarrassment… haven’t I had enough tonight?’
She managed to pull herself together long enough to almost completely disappear in a niche. Sliding down the wall, she continued her emotional outburst outside of the clear line of sight. Vaguely, Hermione registered that her feet were sticking out of the niche due to the sitting posture she had assumed, but since the dungeon hallway was dark and deserted, she thought nothing of it.
But the hallway was not deserted. Of course, the individual stalking the hall was none other than the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons, himself. Like all bats, he did not hunt by sight. No, it was her sniffles that caught his attention.
When he first caught sight of the partial human form protruding from the niche, Professor Severus Snape was certain he had come across a student involved in some punishable offense—that would have made his night, deducting points and handing out detentions to a Gryffindor.
What he actually found startled him beyond words. He hung back to discern what he could of the situation. He had known Miss Granger to be emotional—usually her emotion of choice was anger, indignation. His ability to read and know people had kept him alive, and he knew that this student was not typically susceptible to weak emotions.
He had heard her argue her friends blue in the face over the intellectual capacity of witches, and that they were capable of logic and rationality. This particular squabble, of course, had been concerning the identity of the “Halfblood Prince”—the corner of his mouth lifted involuntarily. That escapade had ended rather nastily for Potter.
Anyway, the point was, this was rather out of character for her; the whole situation said ‘handle with care.’
Extending his arm, he pulled Miss Granger, sniffling, snotting mess she was, out of her hiding place. Ungently, he caught her chin and made her meet his eyes.
A/N: That's all for now; please do review!
This time, Ron won’t die. SS/HG will ensue and get graphic at some point, probably while she’s still in school because who wants to wait? I don’t, you don’t, they don’t.
I don’t really know what all will happen, but isn’t that part of the fun?
Chapter One
It was beyond infuriating, it was disgusting, it was repulsive. Animals had better control over their basest instincts than did Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown. It didn’t bother Harry; he was busy with Ginny, and the only time he and Ginny had time was when Ron was distracted. So he didn’t complain. Once again, Hermione was left alone. Just alone. Again.
Usually, she just felt sorry for herself when this happened. Sometimes, if she was unlucky, Luna Lovegood descended upon her. Hermione knew that if she stayed holed up in the Gryffindor common room, odds of -that- happening weren’t good, which was good.
While she was brooding alone by the fireside, Hermione watched Parvati Patil enter the common room and dash over to “Ronender” (of all the names that she and Ginny had devised for the couple, this name was particularly amusing to Hermione because of the not-so-subtle, much less innocent second meaning) and steal Lavender away to discuss some vital aspect of astrology which she assumed was due the next day.
Hermione used her chance to approach Ron. Getting up, she approached him slowly, not walking straight up to him, but rather making it look like an accident.
“Ronald,” she said icily.
“Oh, no. I know what this is about, Hermione, and I’m not going there. I’m not interested, okay?”
“Ronald, you are so pig-headed! You, you ASSUME that I, that I what, exactly?”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious Hermione,” he said, a bit loudly, “that you’re jealous of Lavender and you’re jealous because you want me.”
“Ronald Weasley, that is the most presumptuous…”
“And you know what else, Hermione? Yeah, you’re not the only one who knows things. You’re jealous of Harry, too, ‘cause he took your best friend away and now you have no one to have a pity party with!”
“Honestly, Ronald!”
“No, no, you listen! You aren’t pretty, you don’t know what guys like! Why would I ever want to be with you when I can have her?”
“Ronald, you really think I would want to be with you?”
“No, Hermione, that’s absurd. You love me. Everybody knows it. What kind of girl wouldn’t want to be with a guy she loves?”
“Ronald, that’s horrible! What an awful thing to say!” Her tone was one of pure, unadulterated shock.
“Sorry, babe, I guess it was never meant to be,” he said coldly as Lav-Lav wandered back from her little meeting of the minds with Parvati. Good grief, what a joke.
Hermione felt ill; the room spun around her several times and her cheeks burnt red. All of a sudden, Hermione was acutely aware of all the eyes on her. She had to get out of the Common Room. Her bed was not an option. -They- were there; they were -her- friends, not Hermione’s. There was no escape to be found in Gryffindor. Hermione managed some measure of poise as she slowly, deliberately walked toward the portrait and freedom. As tears stung her eyes, she made her way out of the Gryffindor common room feeling as though she were under a spot light in slow motion.
As she made her way into the dark castle corridors, Hermione’s mind was on overdrive, more so than usual.
Ginny would have defended her. Ginny would intimidate Ron with her Mrs. Weasley impersonation until he apologized. Harry might have been avoiding her, but he could have stopped Ron. Why hadn’t he been there? It was all his fault, anyway. It had to be. Hermione knew that despite her wishes, Harry had confronted Ron about hurting her feelings by ignoring her. If not for Harry, none of this would EVER have happened.
Really, there were plenty to share that blame. Harry, Lavender, Won-Won, the fools who suggested she needed another year of magical education after Voldemort was defeated... She gave an exasperated sigh.
Even after Hermione had placed a significant amount of space between herself and Gryffindor tower, she felt flushed and hot with anger and shame. Almost unconsciously, Hermione sought out the cool of the dungeons. The deep dark and soothing green tints would be soothing. Maybe she could stand near the door of the dungeon classroom—she could listen to Professor Snape work. She was sure he never rested. Besides, even if she failed to listen in unmolested, a tête-à-tête with Malfoy was preferable to any more time around the people who called themselves her friends.
As she continued to ruminate on her circumstances, quite against her wishes, hot tears began to fill her eyes and run down her face.
‘Great,’ Hermione thought, ‘another embarrassment… haven’t I had enough tonight?’
She managed to pull herself together long enough to almost completely disappear in a niche. Sliding down the wall, she continued her emotional outburst outside of the clear line of sight. Vaguely, Hermione registered that her feet were sticking out of the niche due to the sitting posture she had assumed, but since the dungeon hallway was dark and deserted, she thought nothing of it.
But the hallway was not deserted. Of course, the individual stalking the hall was none other than the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons, himself. Like all bats, he did not hunt by sight. No, it was her sniffles that caught his attention.
When he first caught sight of the partial human form protruding from the niche, Professor Severus Snape was certain he had come across a student involved in some punishable offense—that would have made his night, deducting points and handing out detentions to a Gryffindor.
What he actually found startled him beyond words. He hung back to discern what he could of the situation. He had known Miss Granger to be emotional—usually her emotion of choice was anger, indignation. His ability to read and know people had kept him alive, and he knew that this student was not typically susceptible to weak emotions.
He had heard her argue her friends blue in the face over the intellectual capacity of witches, and that they were capable of logic and rationality. This particular squabble, of course, had been concerning the identity of the “Halfblood Prince”—the corner of his mouth lifted involuntarily. That escapade had ended rather nastily for Potter.
Anyway, the point was, this was rather out of character for her; the whole situation said ‘handle with care.’
Extending his arm, he pulled Miss Granger, sniffling, snotting mess she was, out of her hiding place. Ungently, he caught her chin and made her meet his eyes.
A/N: That's all for now; please do review!