Eternal Mistakes On The Spotless Soul
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
18,286
Reviews:
221
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
18,286
Reviews:
221
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
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.
Interuption
A/N: In my over dramatic life, I've got plot bunnies dashing around like mad tornadoes inside my head. So this is one that forced its way out of my head somewhere between 3 and 5 am whilst trying to sort out sound effects and program details for my impro show. I do hope you joy it, it's just getting started.
The sun was blazing down from the dead center of the sky, casting no shadows at high noon. Beads of sweat poured down Hermione’s face as she waddled as best she could up the steep stone steps of the cathedral. She paused, hands resting on her enormous, swollen belly. “I can’t do this,” she said, more than out of breath.
“Oh yes you can,” said Ginny. She placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Go on, nearly there.”
She hadn’t meant for Ginny to know. In fact, Hermione had not planned for anyone to find out, especially not her best friend’s wife. It had been a one night drunken blunder thirty-nine and a half weeks ago that she was all too eager to forget. The plan had been simple. Pop the kid out, put it up for adoption, and continue on like nothing ever happened. And so she wore a glamour to hide her budding belly, except of course when she was alone in her flat. Her mistake had been forgetting to close the floo connection one evening after Harry and Ginny had popped in for dinner. Ginny had entered unannounced to retrieve her scarf and Hermione had not been quick enough.
And thus, there she stood, gazing at the heavy oak doors of St. Peter’s, hands trembling as she reached toward the ornate metal handle. Her fingers curled around the brass, and she squeezed it so tightly that the blood ran straight out of her knuckles. “Not happening, not happening, not happening,” she repeated under her breath.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Ginny reached forward and pulled the door open.
The church was sweltering inside, despite numerous attempts at cooling charms. He stood at the altar, black collar pinching his neck. Sweat dribbled down from his temple as he gazed into her eyes, her hands cupped in his. The priest fanned himself with his hand, mopping his brow with the sleeve of his matrimonial robe. “If there is anyone here who should find reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Ginny cleared her throat. “She does.” Pews creaked as every head in the church turned to look down the aisle. With all eyes on her, Hermione flushed a bright shade of pink. “Well, go on,” Ginny whispered.
“I can’t.”
The redhead rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Her reasoning may have been a little selfish but karma, like payback, was a bitch. “Severus Snape, you cannot marry that girl because Hermione is carrying your child.”
The sun was blazing down from the dead center of the sky, casting no shadows at high noon. Beads of sweat poured down Hermione’s face as she waddled as best she could up the steep stone steps of the cathedral. She paused, hands resting on her enormous, swollen belly. “I can’t do this,” she said, more than out of breath.
“Oh yes you can,” said Ginny. She placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Go on, nearly there.”
She hadn’t meant for Ginny to know. In fact, Hermione had not planned for anyone to find out, especially not her best friend’s wife. It had been a one night drunken blunder thirty-nine and a half weeks ago that she was all too eager to forget. The plan had been simple. Pop the kid out, put it up for adoption, and continue on like nothing ever happened. And so she wore a glamour to hide her budding belly, except of course when she was alone in her flat. Her mistake had been forgetting to close the floo connection one evening after Harry and Ginny had popped in for dinner. Ginny had entered unannounced to retrieve her scarf and Hermione had not been quick enough.
And thus, there she stood, gazing at the heavy oak doors of St. Peter’s, hands trembling as she reached toward the ornate metal handle. Her fingers curled around the brass, and she squeezed it so tightly that the blood ran straight out of her knuckles. “Not happening, not happening, not happening,” she repeated under her breath.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Ginny reached forward and pulled the door open.
The church was sweltering inside, despite numerous attempts at cooling charms. He stood at the altar, black collar pinching his neck. Sweat dribbled down from his temple as he gazed into her eyes, her hands cupped in his. The priest fanned himself with his hand, mopping his brow with the sleeve of his matrimonial robe. “If there is anyone here who should find reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Ginny cleared her throat. “She does.” Pews creaked as every head in the church turned to look down the aisle. With all eyes on her, Hermione flushed a bright shade of pink. “Well, go on,” Ginny whispered.
“I can’t.”
The redhead rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Her reasoning may have been a little selfish but karma, like payback, was a bitch. “Severus Snape, you cannot marry that girl because Hermione is carrying your child.”