Summary: Snape and Hermione begin to experience confusion and, after a few drinks, (ok, a few bottles) Snape does something Hermione nver expected. Unfinished, of course.
Categories: Hermione/Snape Characters: None
Warnings: Substance Abuse
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 7
Completed: No
Word count: 9789
Read: 21688
Published: 01/18/05
Updated: 02/14/05
1. It begins... by Love_Me_Not_6964
2. In debt by Love_Me_Not_6964
3. Potion by Love_Me_Not_6964
4. Let the Games Begin... by Love_Me_Not_6964
5. Concluding... by Love_Me_Not_6964
6. Continued by Love_Me_Not_6964
7. Death eaters by Love_Me_Not_6964
It begins... by Love_Me_Not_6964
Love at First Sip
Hermione jumped at the sound of professor Snape entering the classroom.
“Christ!” Ron gasped, “Does he have to barge in here like that every year? Jumped right out of my chair, I did!”
“Yeah,” Hermione growled, “and onto my foot! You should be used to it by now, Ron. And get off of me!”
“Right... Sorry.” As Ron situated himself, Hermione glanced at Snape. My, was he in a mood today, even for him!
Snape cleared his throat, his beady eyes darting around the classroom. When all was quiet he said (with a bit of reluctance), “Apparently...Dumbledore thinks I should be-” with that he paused.
“Professor Snape?” Hermione asked, “He thinks you should be what?”
“Shut-up you silly girl! Did I call on you? Ten points from Gryffindor!”
Harry groaned. “Is another year of potions really necessary? It’s only the first day and he’s already docking points.”
“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted by Miss Granger,” Snape continued with a disgusted look, “Dumbledore believes I should be easier on you twits.” He paused. “We shall have a free day. Do your homework for your other classes!”
Snape spun around, his back rigid, and walked to his desk. As he turned around he noticed a peculiar thing. The whole class, their jaws hanging and eyes wide open, stared at him in silence. Snape growled. How could Dumbledore believe these imbeciles deserved a day off? Even Miss Granger was at a loss for words. What? That babbling know-it-all was unable to speak? Impossible!
“Miss Granger! Though the dim-witted look on your face fits you perfectly, I believe I told you to DO YOUR HOMEWORK! Ten points from Gryffindor!”
With that he swept his robes around and retired at his desk to grade papers.
Typically, Harry would have been upset that Snape took only Gryffindor's points, but he was focusing all his power into not laughing. He could hear Ron snickering beside him.
“Shut-up, Ron!” he hissed, trying to control his own laughter, “You’ll get more points taken away!”
Ron looked up at Harry, tears of laughter rolling down his face, and pointed to a cartoon being drawn by magic over the writing on the board. It was a picture of Snape in a dress, skipping around in a field of flowers, a silly grin painted on his face, and heart-shaped clouds in the sky. As Harry saw the last flower being drawn he burst into fits of laughter so strong it hurt his stomach. Christ, that drawing was wrong, but it was so funny!
Hermione hushed Harry and Ron. She didn’t think this was funny at all. In fact, she needed more time to add a few pages to her wizard history report. It was bad enough that Snape was forced give them a free day, but to have the whole class laughing? Plus, she couldn’t concentrate with all that giggling! As she looked up at the board she noticed the cartoon. “Oh, no!” she gasped as she dropped her ink glass.
“What is all this racket?” Snape screamed, knocking his chair over as he stood up. “Miss Granger, surely you have not already made a mess? You were only supposed to do your homework! How could you possibly mess that up?”
“I know, sir, but...” Hermione paused. She didn’t want Snape to get even more upset with her, just because some moron decided to put that cartoon on the board! (It had been hexed to move, creating a figure of him actually skipping!) As her eyes flicked between Professor Snape and the board, trying to figure out what to say, he turned around and the whole class went silent.
The cartoon was now singing “Perhaps I’m truly in love,” an old melody about a man who falls in love with a princess.
Snape's face boiled with rage. “GET OUT!” he roared as the students stumbled out of the classroom. “Except you, Miss Granger,” he growled menacingly, “you will clean up this mess!”
“Yes professor, but-”
Hermione sighed. Apparently nothing had changed.
As Hermione made her way up the stairs, she felt a shift. “Oh, no,” she thought. The stairs were moving again. “Bugger! These stairs are so annoying!” she grumbled.
When they finally stopped shifting, she found herself at a big, black door. It looked like it was...wriggling. Wait! She knew this! It was...Oh! Halfway in height, tickle me right... It was an Agoran door! “Halfway in height tickle me right...” Hermione thought for a second, then giggled as she tickled the door near the knob. The door shuddered, then stood still.
Hermione opened the door to find a long, dark hallway lit by torches. The smell of cinnamon filled her head.
“Where does this lead?” she thought to herself. Continuing to make her way down the corridor, she caught a glimpse of a door hidden in the shadows.
“Lumos.” she said, attempting to catch a better glimpse of the door. Something about this hidden room intrigued her.
She muttered another charm to unlock the door and walked in to find a bedroom filled with potions and lots of Fire-whiskey. As she looked around she observed that the walls were pitch-black, the chairs were scarlet, and, wait a minute...were those quicksilver-colored sheets? No, they couldn’t be. Those cost a fortune. She sat down on the bed and felt the sheets. It felt like warm water was trickling over her skin and it smelled like...it smelled like...oh, she knew that smell. It was... “Snape!” Hermione gasped as she jumped off the bed. This was Snape’s room? Her breath caught as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. “Oh, no!” she squeaked.
Hermione spun around to straighten the bed, which had conveniently straightened itself. She looked around for a place to hide and decided that the wardrobe was her best bet.
As Snape climbed the stairs to his room he thought about how ridiculous it was for him to have to give the students a day off. He - sniveling Snape, ex-death eater, now spy for the Order - was letting a class of teenagers continue to dwell in idiocy!
“What is the world coming to?” he groaned, to no one in particular. He glared at the door he was now facing. “Stupid door.” he growled. Dumbledore had taken it upon himself to “lighten” Snape’s mood by moving his room to the east side of the castle.
“Severus,” Dumbledore had sighed, “You need more light in your life. I can only give you the sun.”
“Stupid sun,” he growled again. Perhaps Dumbledore thought it would be funny that Snape would have to tickle a door to get a few hours’ sleep. What got him the most, though, was the lack of protection in his temporary room. He would have to set up some barriers pretty soon before those ridiculously idiotic little kids decided to meddle with his stuff.
Snape entered his room, exhausted, and grabbed one of his whiskey bottles on the shelf. He took a couple shots, then decided to chug it straight from the bottle.
Hermione jumped as she heard a loud thud. Wondering what Snape could possibly be upset about now, she peeked through the crack in the wardrobe and saw him passed out and sprawled on the floor. He was mumbling, but what about, she couldn’t tell. She could only imagine it had something to do with when he was a death eater.
She crawled out of the closet, preparing to make a run for it, but then heard Snape give out a painful cry. It was the most pitiful sound; like a man who had lost everything.
She walked over to him and levitated him with her wand to his bed. As she lowered him down and covered him with his sheets, she couldn’t help but notice how peaceful he looked when he slept. No frown-lines. No pursed lips. His eyes flickered open. He looked around for a second until he saw her, then he did the last thing Hermione expected. He smiled.
Snape woke up to birds singing. “Damn you, Albus, you meddling crack-pot,” he groaned as he rolled out of bed. He had had the strangest dream of a girl, no, an angel...Oh, fuck, his head hurt. He’d have to find more of that potion to get rid of his hangover.
After breakfast, Snape stumbled into his classroom. He still felt like crap, and he was reasonably sure it showed. He flicked his wand at the board, where the ingredients started writing themselves. He rubbed his face and looked around at the class. They were all staring at him like he was crazy.
“Potter!” he yelled, “Show me your sample of your potion!”
“Umm...I haven't started, yet, sir. Class just began and, plus -”
“Quiet! Did I say you could speak? Five points from Gryffindor!” Snape barked. “Stupid Potter...” he thought. His nasally voice was the last thing he wanted buzzing in his ear.
“That’s it”, Hermione thought, “I’ve had it with him.”
“Professor Snape!” she huffed, “Perhaps if you spent less time drinking, you would be able to focus! What Harry is trying to explain is that you have put the wrong ingredients on the board!”
Snape sneered at Hermione, then glanced at the board. Sure enough the ingredients for the hangover potion he so desperately craved were written on the board. With a flick of his wrist the correct potion instructions were written. He leaned over and whispered into Hermione’s ear.
“Miss Granger, a word with you outside.”
Hermione shuddered. When he spoke like that, his voice sounded like velvet. It was...sexy...intriguing. “Ugh! What’s wrong with me?” Hermione thought.
She shuddered again, this time out of fear, and then followed Snape into the hallway.
“Miss Granger, I find your protesting very...trying of late. I believe that a week of detention is in order. You will come to my classroom at 7 o’clock on the dot.”
Hermione simply nodded. She was still wondering at the effect his voice had on her. As she turned around, intending to go back to class, he put his arm across her, blocking her path, and her nostrils filled with the scent of him, making her dizzy. God, he smelled good. Why had she never noticed before?
“One moment, Miss Granger.” Snape said, bringing her out of her reverie, “You seem to like answering questions. How is it that you know what I drank last night?”
Hermione’s breath caught and her heart skipped a beat. How could she tell him she hid in his room `till he passed out, then tucked him in bed? Wait...hadn’t he smiled? Didn’t he know she had been in there? No, he had been drunk beyond drunk. He wouldn’t remember anything...
“Miss Granger. Perhaps I imagined it, but did I not just ask you how you knew I was drinking?”
She looked up at him, then said, “You put the ingredients for a hang-over potion on the board. I just assumed that, judging by the state you’re in and the way you look, you have consumed a significant amount of alcohol, therefore receiving a hangover in return. I could be wrong, but I believe drinking alcohol is the only way you can get a hang-over.”
Snape stared at her for a moment, giving his best effort not to smile. After all, he did have a reputation to uphold. What would people say if they saw him smiling at a Gryffindor? But, my god, she was intelligent! “Five points from Gryffindor for acting upon assumptions!” he hissed, then stormed back into the classroom.
“Yes, sir...” Hermione said in a half-daze. She just couldn’t get over the smell of him. Plus, she had noticed a twitch in the side of her professor’s mouth, and, for some reason, she knew he had almost smiled again.
In debt by Love_Me_Not_6964
Snape walked back into the classroom, completely unaware of the transparent purple blob that was Neville. He heard Malfoy and his gang snickering, but paid no attention. His mind was on a certain Gryffindor girl...
“Professor Snape!” someone yelled, snapping him out of his reverie. Snape growled and grit his teeth.
“What is it?” he hissed. Had he actually been dreaming about Hermione? Wait, since when did he call her Hermione?
“Sir, Neville is--”
“Quiet!” Snape barked. He spun around, intending to shock the class into silence, but what he saw made him jump back in disgust.
He had seen mangled bodies, the Cruciatus curse, and Avada Kedavra performed without the slightest hint of nausea; but what he saw now made him vomit until he thought, surely, his insides would be coming out.
Neville Longbottom looked like...oh, God, it was indescribable! He looked like a melting candle that used to be a greenish-gray, transparent house-elf with a pimpled face and a few strands of hair. Oh, but it was so much worse...it made dementors look like beauty queens. And the smell was far more repulsive.
Snape felt the room spin as all went black. The last thing he felt was his head crashing into the ground.
Hermione turned at the commotion in the classroom.
“What is going on in there?” she thought.
She entered the classroom and almost threw up from the smell. Plugging her nose, she looked around and saw Snape unconscious on the floor. At his feet was the ugliest thing Hermione had ever seen. Never, had she even contemplated a hideousness of that magnitude. With a flick of her wrist, she shrank the blob to the size of her fist.
“Wingardium Leviosa,” she said, levitating the mess into one of the empty jars on Snape’s desk. She would take it to Dumbledore later to learn what it was.
A glance around the classroom told her that all the students had either run or passed out. Judging by the look on their faces (and the smell of piss) she guessed that they had fainted from fear.
“Cowards,” she grumbled. How would they ever fight Voldemort, if they couldn’t even stand up to a blob?
Snape, on the other hand, had fainted from disgust, and from being that close to the fumes that emanated from “the blob”.
“He looks so peaceful there," Hermione sighed, “and so handsome, too. God, what is getting into me?”
She put her wand to Snape’s temple, whispering a spell she had just read about a couple of weeks ago.
Snape awoke to Hermione, her eyes closed in concentration, chanting a spell. He gazed at her for a moment before shaking himself and sitting up.
“Professor!” Hermione yelped before hugging him tightly. She pulled away, an embarrassed look on her face, and stammered, “I... professor... I’m so sorry, I was just so happy that it worked-the spell, I mean- I learned it a couple of weeks ago. I wasn’t sure I had it right -”
“Miss Granger!” Snape barked, “I do not care what you did, only that you keep that annoying trap shut!”
He saw her bite her lip to keep from crying and felt a pang of guilt creep up on him.
“What is this?” Snape thought, “Now I feel sorry for her? I never feel sorry for students!”
He glanced up at her. She had averted her face from his in order to control her oncoming tears.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Her watering, amber eyes met his in shock. She nodded, then turned to the other students and began reviving them.
He stood there in amazement - the angel who had taken care of him twice, now; and how caring of her to revive him before reviving the students. He would not have wanted them to see him in his moment of weakness. A moment he would have to punish himself for, later. He wondered if she would tell her two idiot friends about their little encounters.
When Hermione had finished reviving all the students she stood up, exhausted. The power it took to perform the spell that many times had completely drained her. As all the students thanked her and left, Snape beckoned her to his desk. With the last student gone, he dropped into his chair.
“Professor," Hermione said in a daze, “You should go to bed. I’ll clean up.”
Snape opened his mouth to protest but, before he could say a word, Hermione crashed to the ground.
“Why is everybody fainting today?” Snape said, to no one in particular.
He pulled out his wand, preparing to levitate her to her room, but then decided to carry her, instead. After all, it was the least he could do after what she had done for him.
“Liar,” a voice in his head whispered, “You want to carry her, don’t you?”
“That’s absurd,” he growled, “Why would I want to carry Hermione? I owe her, that’s all.”
“Hermione...” the voice cackled teasingly, “Don’t you mean Miss Granger?” it faded away, still laughing.
Snape growled again and picked her up. He owed her, that was all. As he carried her through the hallway, he prayed that no one would see him, and cursed himself for straining his back for her. He was getting too old for chivalry. He stepped into her room and placed her on her bed as carefully as he could manage, then covered her with her sheets. He smiled down at her and was suddenly filled with the oppressing urge to kiss her. As he lowered himself down, gazing at her soft lips, a voice cackled in his head.
“Hermione...” it teased.
Snape kissed her quickly on the forehead, then rushed to his room, chugging, yet another bottle of fire-whisky.
Potion by Love_Me_Not_6964
Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry and Ron argued over different Quidditch players and who was more talented.
“Can you both please shut up!” she said, laughing slightly at the looks on their faces. “Honestly, I’ll never be able to finish this book with you two arguing at the top of you lungs. And, for God’s sake, can you talk about something other than that ridiculous game!”
They both gaped at her with offended looks. Ron’s mouth was opening and closing, but he couldn’t seem to find the words he was looking for.
“Well,” Harry said slyly, “Ron’s considering making a love potion--ouch!”
“What!” Hermione yelled, “Ronald Weasley, you know that’s against school rules! And don’t think that I won’t report you. You could get ex-”
“Hermione!” Ron interrupted, with a furtive glance at Harry, “He’s just kidding, aren’t you Harry?”
“Um...yeah...yes, I am just kidding.” Harry lied
“Good,” Hermione yawned, “Well, I’m going to go eat breakfast.”
As Hermione walked away Harry growled at Ron. “You didn’t have to kick me that hard.”
“Well, bloody hell, Harry; you’ve got to be right stupid to tell her that! She’s head girl and she takes it seriously. You know how she is about rules...she worships ‘em next to grades and books!”
“I know, Ron, I just wanted to see her reaction. Honestly, I was going to tell her it’s a joke!”
Ron rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, and walked away shaking his head. Harry heard him mumble something about breakfast and decided he was hungry, too.
Snape spent the entire hour criticizing the students’ potions. It was all he could do to keep his mind off of Hermione. “Miss Granger,” he reminded himself, “not Hermione.”
He heard her laughing at the front of the classroom. It sounded like wind chimes...oh, God, what was he thinking? Oh, but how he wished he could make her laugh like that, or at least be able to share her laughter. As the students filed out of class, some crying, he noticed Miss Granger lingering behind.
“You are cleaning up slower than usual, Miss Granger.” he said, attempting to sound cynical.
“Yes, professor...I was wondering if you know where that thing from yesterday is. I had intended to take it to Dumbledore to learn what it was.”
Snape stared at her blankly for a second. She didn’t know? He thought the whole school would be buzzing about it. Then again, she always did have her nose stuck in those books.
“Miss Granger, have you not noticed the absence of one of your own friends today?”
“Well, Neville is gone--” she stopped. “Professor...that...that thing...it was Neville?”
Snape Nodded.
“Is he all right?” she asked, concerned.
He nodded again.
Hermione covered her mouth and Snape stepped towards her, expecting her to cry, but then, to his surprise, she burst into fits of laughter. Snape stepped back in shock.
Hermione looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Wow...was he...ugly!” she said, through fits of giggles.
Snape stood there utterly confused. What the heck was she laughing about?
"Miss Granger," he said, slightly uncomfortably, but gave up as he gazed upon her. In a way, he had made her laugh. In a way, he had gotten his wish.
When her laughter subsided, it left room only for uncomfortable silence. Hermione looked up at Snape, wiping tears from her eyes, then made an obvious attempt to compose herself.
“Thank you for carrying me to bed last night.” she said, turning cherry red.
Snape tensed and shifted uncomfortably. “Thank you for taking care of me once when I was drunk and, yet again, when I was unconscious."
Hermione nodded, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, Severus.” was all she said before grabbing her books and leaving.
Hermione needed a place to think; she needed a place that was quiet, a place where she wouldn’t be bothered or interrupted. What was she thinking calling Professor Snape “Severus.” Was she out of her mind? And why had she kissed his forehead? And his smell...why did it enchant her so?
“Hello, Hermione.” Moaning Myrtle sighed. Ever since she had been killed by the basilisk, she had dwelled in the bathroom Hermione now sat in. “Have you come to share my bathroom?”
“Hello, Myrtle, and no, I just came here so I could think.”
Myrtle drifted towards Hermione and handed her a glass of water. “Drink this,” Myrtle giggled, “It’s very refreshing.”
“Much obliged,” Hermione mumbled as she drank it, hoping Myrtle would go away.
Myrtle was not a ghost incapable of taking hints. With a wail she plunged into a toilet, splashing water all over the bathroom.
Hermione growled. Was there no place she could go without being bothered? As she stormed out of the bathroom, she ran into Neville, knocking him over.
“Neville!” she gasped in surprise, “I thought you were--”
“Yeah, Madame Pomfrey fixed me up. Took all of last night and today to do it,” he said, his face red with embarrassment.
Hermione gazed at him in wonder. Not only had she fixed him up, she had made him gorgeous!
“Draco put something in my potion.” he continued, “When I went to mix in the powder-stuff it just kind of exploded on me. Hermione, are you all right?”
“Y-yes,” Hermione stammered, “Neville, I never knew you were so smart! And how kind of you to ask me if I’m all right... so sweet.”
With a sigh she patted a very confused Neville on the head.
“Myrtle,” Ron said seriously, “For the last time, where is the potion? The love potion I was making. Remember? It was colorless, odorless, s’posed to make Emma Pallazetti fall in love with me?”
Myrtle giggled. “I gave it to a lovely girl with bushy, red hair. Can you guess who?”
Ron and Harry looked at each other wide-eyed. “Hermione!” they shouted in unison. As they flew down the corridor Harry yelled to Ron. “We have to make sure she doesn’t touch anyone!” Ron nodded and ran faster. They burst into the Gryffindor common room to find Hermione sitting in a chair, her nose an inch away from a parchment.
“Oh thank you, lord.” Ron sighed. Harry walked over to Hermione. “Hermione, are you ok? What are you doing?”
Hermione giggled and showed him the parchment. Written all over it was “I love Neville Longbottom” and “Mrs. Hermione Longbottom” encircled with hearts.
Ron cursed and turned as Neville snuck in. “Hey, Ron,” he whispered, “You don’t see Hermione around, do you? She’s been jumping at me all day! I don’t know what’s gotten into her!”
“Relax, Neville”, Ron said, “she took a love potion by accident and--”
Hermione looked up and squealed as she chased Neville around the furniture.
“We’re in deep shit this time, Harry,” Ron groaned.
Let the Games Begin... by Love_Me_Not_6964
Snape stared at Hermione in disbelief. That tramp! She had led him on and now she was batting her eyelashes at Neville like a little schoolgirl!
“She is a schoolgirl,” Snape thought, “and I am her professor...”
Snape hated himself for being such a fool. How could anyone love him, especially someone as kind and beautiful as that? Ah, how beautiful she had become...no longer an awkward little girl. But he could tell by her shyness and insecurity - the way she held herself - that she did not find herself at all attractive. That was not all that Snape found intriguing, though. No, there was much more than that to her. Her mind, sharp as a double-bladed knife and quick as one, too. Her eyes, you could tell, calculated every movement, every expression, ever searching for truth. “She should be an Auror,” Snape thought. But what he loved most of all was her defiance. She always had to fight for what’s right, never seeking to benefit herself.
“Her life is but a trace of wisdom...” Snape whispered, gazing at her, “...others will never see. Her eyes have seen misery and pain, she knows what it is to dream...Ah, Hermione, I was a fool.”
At that moment, Hermione glanced up at him and Snape saw a flash of confusion grace her amber eyes. But a flicker was all it was, for, when Neville suddenly yelped, “Oops!” Hermione turned and began scolding him lovingly.
“Oh, Neville,” she giggled, “You’re supposed to add the roots after the powder. Look, this is what you do...”
Snape stared at the scene in utter misery. Typically, he would have glared at Neville ‘til he shook and told him what a stupid twit he is, but his energy seemed to have left him.
“Wow,” he thought, “I’m even too old to scold students.”
Or, perhaps, it was more than old age. Was it- no, it couldn’t be...could it? Snape’s breath caught as realization flooded over him. His heart beat with the rapidity of a hummingbird’s wings. He loved her! Hermione, the most insufferable, know-it-all, Gryffindor girl! Nay, woman, and he loved her since the moment he saw her on that fateful night, when she tucked him into bed. That act of kindness had no parallel...He loved her more than-well, he had never loved anything or anyone-but he knew this strange sensation was love and, though alien to him, he suddenly felt as though he had found his home...his Eden.
But as he gazed at her and Neville, he felt his Eden - his heaven - slowly melt away to reveal his hell. He felt a pain, worse than any Voldemort ever inflicted, strike through his heart. “My death has finally come,” he thought, for, surely, no one could live through pain such as this. But as he waited there, Death showed no sign of gracing him with its presence. He had to get out.
Harry looked up as Snape stormed out of the classroom.
“That’s odd,” Ron said, “Class doesn't end for another half hour.”
Harry, feeling the misery of guilt, turned to watch Hermione and Neville. She was whispering things in Neville’s ear that made him turn impossibly red.
Ron leaned over, “She keeps talking about how cute and smart he is. Quite annoying, really.”
“Funny,” Harry grunted, “he still seems ugly and stupid to me.”
Ron looked at Harry for a moment, frowning. “I thought you were over her Harry. You still like her, don’t you?”
Harry sighed. “Sometimes...”
Ron lowered his eyes, “Me too...”
Snape breathed in the fresh air. He was standing at the highest point of the castle. The astronomy tower. The wind caressed his hair, blowing back his billowing, black robes, giving him a sense of power. He could smell the scent of lavender in the air. The scent of Hermione. Snape sighed mournfully. I thought she loved me... but she did. He knew she did. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to clear his mind.
“Oh Snape!” a grief-stricken voice suddenly cried, making him jump back in surprise, “I knew that today would be the day you chose to end your life!”
He spun around, his heart racing. “Trelawney!” he cried, “you scared the - never mind, what are you doing up here?”
Trelawney rushed over to him, “Death is not the answer, Snape! If you die, the world will fall to the clutches of evil! A reign of terror will sweep the land leaving only -”
“What are you talking about?” Snape interrupted, “I’m not committing suicide, I came up here to think.” He grabbed his chest. His heart was still racing. God, he thought he was going to have a heart attack!
She blinked at him through her thick glasses. “You mean... you didn’t come up here to kill yourself?” Trelawney said, confused, “But I had a dream, I - you were under a spell and you jumped. Off this roof-top, here,” she said, indicating the balcony they were standing on.
Snape sighed, “Well, I am under no spell. Honestly, you need to control yourself; people already think you’re crazy. Under a spell...what a ridiculous -” he stopped as realization embraced him once more. How could he have been so stupid? Of course!
“That’s it!” Snape laughed and embraced Trelawney, then ran down the stone steps yelling, “Thank you, Sybille!”
Trelawney stared after him, her glasses magnifying her eyes, giving her the appearance of a dragonfly. “He must be insane,” she hummed to herself, before heading back to her class, which she too had, ironically, left behind.
Snape burst back into the classroom with only ten more minutes left to go. “Potter! Weasley! Outside now!”
Harry and Ron jumped out of there chairs and followed Professor Snape out of the classroom, Ron almost in tears, and Harry shaking with nervousness. Did Snape know about the potion?
Once outside, Snape spun around, his robes billowing menacingly. “Tell me now; is Hermione under a love spell?”
Harry and Ron immediately began denying it, but Snape interrupted.
“As far as I’m concerned, I have no proof that you two did it, as long as you tell me which spell it is.”
Harry stood there confused. Was Snape letting them off? Then, as he witnessed the desperation behind his eyes, noticed the intensity of his tone, he suddenly understood.
“It’s a love potion. It’s called ‘Love at First Sip’, or something like that.” Harry said.
Snape nodded, relief washing over him, and squeezed their shoulders in “thanks,” before re-entering the classroom.
“Has everyone gone mad?” Ron squeaked, “We just...bonded with Sniveling Snape!”
Harry stared in the direction Snape had gone, his respect for him intensified tenfold. “You and I like Hermione, Ron; but Snape…I dunno….Snape loves her.” In that moment, Harry was no longer a boy, but a man.
Ron stood, utterly confused, as Harry had before.
“Apparently, you’ve gone mad too, Harry,” Ron said, before pretending to gag. “Snape and Hermione, you say?” He chuckled before bursting into heavy laughter.
Snape, filled with newfound hope, searched his books for an antidote. When he finally found it, he dismissed the class, hoping that the silence would help him concentrate. He read it allowed. “...Allow potion to brew for three days-What? Three days! - When the drinker has consumed the last drop, a kiss from their true love is required.” Snape snorted, “How cliché.”
He pulled out a cauldron and began mixing the ingredients. It was a simple spell, really, just time-consuming. For three days and two nights he worked relentlessly, perfecting it, and all the while watching Hermione. “Don’t worry, my love,” he would whisper, “they say ignorance is bliss, but they are wrong. I will save you... I promise.”
Each time he whispered her name, she would look up at him with that same confused expression in her eyes. As though she knew something were wrong, and only he could clear the fog that clouded her mind. When the potion was finally done, Snape allowed himself to sleep. Tomorrow morning his dreams would come true...
Hermione could think of nothing but Neville. He was in her mind in the day, her dreams in the night. Though she felt as if there were something amiss, her lust overpowered her mind. Except, for some odd reason, when she looked at Snape. She would glance at him and swear she heard him calling her name. She would look in his eyes, smell him as he walked by, and things would clear until...oh, Neville. He had been sweeter than usual. Always asking if she was all right. If she was feeling well. Hermione sighed as she stepped into her potions class. She would get to sit with Neville for a whole hour!
Concluding... by Love_Me_Not_6964
Snape sat up as Hermione walked into the classroom, looking as if she were in a dream. “Not a dream,” Snape thought, “a nightmare...”
He had noticed a peculiar thing. Ever since his discovery of his love for Hermione, that little voice in his head had disappeared. It was almost as if it had decided she would keep him sane. Snape sighed, covering his face with his hands and raking his fingers through his greasy hair. He doubted he could wait the entire hour to give her the counter-potion; but since he had to kiss her, and since teacher-student relationships were against school policy, he would have to wait until class was over, and he and Hermione could be alone. To keep himself from embracing insanity (he was not a patient man) he mulled over different ways he could express his love to Hermione.
“Hermione, I know you won’t believe this, but...no. Hermione, I love you... no... Hermione -”
By the end of the hour, Snape had concocted and dismissed every possible word usage that could articulate his undying love for her.
“Hermione? Neville? Could you come to my desk?” Snape said softly.
They both approached, Neville shaking with fear (and looking slightly perturbed that Snape had asked him to do something, instead of barking at him, like usual) and Hermione, beaming at Neville for being “so brave”.
“Y-yes S-sir”, Neville stammered, almost in tears. Snape, a man not easily fooled, perceived Neville’s fright and recognized it for more than it was. Neville knew about the potion...
“Neville, I need you to tell Hermione to drink this.” Snape said, handing him the vial of the counter-potion. At hearing her name, Hermione looked up at Snape, that confused look gracing her eyes, yet again. Neville, on the other hand, looked as dumb-witted as ever. Snape observed this, too and, deciding that Neville was still the dull twit he always was, elaborated as if he were a mother teaching her toddler how to color.
“Hermione has taken a love potion by accident. You, being the first one she came in contact with, are the one she... “fell in love with”. Since that is the case, she will do whatever you wish. I pray that you have not already taken advantage of this... inconvenience.”
Neville shook his head, blushing furiously and handed the vial to Hermione. “Drink this, Hermione...” he said quietly, before fleeing to the common room, away from the glare of his potions master.
Hermione looked up at Snape, her mind torn apart in confusion. She longed to follow Neville, comfort him, but as she looked into Snape’s eyes, she could feel them boring into her, gluing her to the spot. And his voice...it was like velvet, yet subtle enough to be a taste of chocolate. A taste that made you feel as if you could never get enough. A richness that could intrigue you, then drive you to the brink of insanity with its appeal.
Oh, but Neville must be very upset. What had he told her? Drink this...
“Well,” Hermione thought, “anything to make him happy...”
She swallowed the potion and felt its contents trickle down her throat, burning all in its path. She felt as if her insides were on fire and, suddenly, it all turned ice-cold. She dropped the vial and opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out and, as Snape stood up, then walked towards her, she could hear his breath quicken. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, pulling her close to him. Hermione winced as she saw him close his eyes, his lips coming closer. She could smell him; she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin...his lips pressed against hers and-
Snape pulled back (too soon in his opinion) and looked at Hermione. She blinked and her expression of confusion vanished.
“Severus?” she croaked, rubbing her throat, “What happened, I - why does my throat burn?”
Snape watched her expressions change as the memories flickered before her eyes. Disgust at flirting with Neville, comprehension as to why Snape’s voice had confused her, embarrassment at the promises that she had whispered in Neville’s ear. Snape perceived all this until she gazed up at him, her face a mixture of numerous emotions.
“Yes, Hermione,” he whispered softly, “I did kiss you. The potion required a kiss from someone - from someone who truly loves you.”
Snape shrank back as tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes. He longed to comfort her, but he had no idea what to do. He found himself holding his breath, desperate for just one more embrace.
Suddenly, Hermione was in his arms, her tears gracing his cheek. “I knew it,” she whispered, laughing and crying at the same time. He had never felt so happy in all his life. So content...
At that moment, Dumbledore walked in and Hermione pulled away from Snape, leaving only a cold draft where her body had warmed him. His face was still wet where her tears had been...and his.
“Hermione,” Dumbledore said, “would you please step outside with me. There is a matter of utmost importance I must discuss with you.”
Hermione followed him, stricken with the face of a person who was about to face their doom, yet she also carried a hint of elation. As soon as the door shut, Dumbledore turned to her.
“Do not cry, my dear,” he said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping her tears. “I have only come to tell you that Myrtle, the ghost who dwells in the bathroom, has given you a love potion. Fortunately, Professor Snape has already taken care of it.”
Dumbledore’s expression was one of secretive understanding.
Hermione looked up at him, fresh tears falling from her eyes. His expression melted from formal to one of pain and sympathy. “I don’t think,” he said sadly, “that I have to remind you of school policy. Ah, Miss Granger, I know you and Severus love each other, but -”
Hermione nodded. “I understand. Please, excuse me...” she said before walking in the direction of her dormitory.
Snape looked up as Dumbledore entered the room again. “Severus...” Dumbledore began, but stopped when Snape shook his head. He watched as Snape sank into his chair, covering his face with his hands. After a few moments, Snape stood up and looked a Dumbledore, his face a mask of indifference. Dumbledore was aware of the facade, though. He could see the pain behind Snape’s eyes.
“So you’re not made of steel”, Dumbledore chuckled, “Harry and Ron told me what happened. My, my Snape, I am surprised at you. Bonding with students...you’ll make a fine headmaster one day.” With that, Dumbledore left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Snape opened the door to Hermione’s room as quietly as possible. He stuck his head in, making sure she was asleep. He needed to see her to do this. As he pulled up a chair and sat down, gazing at her, his mind cleared...
Hermione woke up to the sun shining. She stretched her legs, yawning, and looked around her room. Someone had brought her (or conjured up) about 20 dozen roses, and had placed them, strategically, throughout her room. Her bathtub was filled with steaming water and rose petals. “Severus...” she thought, remembering the past night’s events. As she sank, gratefully, into the bathtub she found a dish floating on the surface of the water. On it was a piece of parchment. As Hermione read its contents, she burst into tears of joy.
In certain time, I knew that you
would steal my heart from me.
True love is not love at first sight.
In love, you may not be.
All I have to prove to you
that my love is sincere...
Are trails of salt from my eyes
what’s left of a drying tear.
In your eyes I see the depth
of all that I adore.
And somehow, now the stars shine ever
brighter than before.
But when your eyes met mine
and in your eyes beheld
that which I have felt so long
and in my soul, withheld.
With you here my soul is not
lost in deprivation.
My world does not dwell in lies
or formal recitation.
At present time our love will be
shrouded from all view.
But know that I will always wait
in patient love for you...
Love,
Severus
Continued by Love_Me_Not_6964
Snape awoke to birds singing, yet again. He recalled the night’s events with mixed emotion and decided that the only way he could keep those memories from the Dark Lord and his death eaters was to store them someplace else. In doing so, he would remember nothing of falling in love with Hermione nor would he- and this was much worse- remember Hermione falling in love with him. But it had to be done or he and Hermione would both receive the Avada Kedavra curse. No, he must protect her even at the cost of his memory. Even at the cost of his newfound heart…
Harry watched as Hermione walked to their table. She looked like a goddess this morning and, as she approached, Harry's ears filled with the sound of her soft humming. When she finally reached them, she sat down with the grace of a rose petal floating to the ground, which only enhanced the smell of roses now drifting past Harry, making his mouth water.
"Hermione," Ron stammered, "You look like an enchantress..."
Ron caught himself and broke out of his reverie, quickly mumbling a "just kidding" before turning cherry red. He turned to Harry and said, "Harry, close your mouth and for God's sake, stop drooling!"
Harry had not been drooling, though his mouth had been hanging open. He quickly shut it and shot Ron a helpless glance.
Meanwhile Hermione, slightly confused, continued eating but looked up in surprise when Harry said, "So, are you dressed up for Snape or is something special happening today?"
Ron snickered. "Yeah, we've got double potions with Snape today," but then, realizing what he had said was true, gave out a groan of disgust.
"I don't know what you boys are talking about. And it's Professor Snape, not just Snape. Honestly, you need to learn to respect -"
Harry laughed at her protesting. He had noticed her face turn from the pale white of shock to the bright red similar to the color Ron had just turned.
"It's OK, Hermione. Snape - I mean Professor Snape,” he said at the look she gave him, "well, he already told us."
Hermione's face lit up as she stammered excitedly. "He told you? Oh my -oh, I thought I was going to have to hide it from you also. It's been so hard..."
As she continued babbling, Harry felt a lightning bolt of pain strike through his chest. His eyes met Ron's and he saw the same pain gracing his heart.
Snape had been observing Hermione's behavior from the staff table. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip, mindlessly, as he calculated every smile -every gesture- his angel made. This was the last time -at least 'till Voldemort was defeated- that he would see her this way. Dumbledore cleared his throat and Snape's eyes flickered, but remained locked on Hermione. She was his happiness, his joy, his sanity. To erase her would only leave him with what he was before. An empty shell...
Dumbledore cleared his throat again, louder this time, and with a brief glance, Snape understood what he was saying.
"You must forget her."
Snape met Dumbledore's eyes again and this time it was Dumbledore receiving the message.
"Meet me in your office after breakfast. There is something we must discuss."
Snape turned to Hermione again to find her leaving with Harry and Ron. As she spun around, Snape saw a shadow of confusion cross her face. She knew something was wrong.
Snape, upon entering, observed Dumbledore pacing back and forth. After a few moments, Dumbledore sat down and glanced up.
"Please," Dumbledore implored, "sit down. You wished to speak to me about Hermione, I suppose?"
Snape remained standing, attempting to manipulate his words.
"Simplicity will do," he thought to himself then said aloud, "I have a meeting in four nights."
There was no need for explanation. Dumbledore was aware that the meeting was that of the death eaters.
"You know, as well as I," Snape continued, "that they will perform the Cruciatus curse on me. I can't afford to let him know about this...situation. He already thinks I'm soft, you know. Taking care of the children and what not." He hesitated. "I need to remove my memory of the past few weeks...most specifically the memories of Hermione. You need only to tell me where I am at in my lesson plan so that I don't repeat it and waste time. I must forget about Hermione...and love. If Voldemort detects even a hint of that, he will kill me. And her."
Dumbledore simply nodded, but there was an ocean of sadness behind his twinkling blue eyes.
"Do you intend to tell Hermione or will you just leave her in the dark?"
Snape began pacing, rubbing his thumb against his lip in the same way he had before, then stopped and stared down at the floor.
"I can't tell her," he whispered softly, "I don't know how long it will be until Voldemort is defeated. If she is captured, then our cause will become lost. She will not be able to endure the pain of the Cruciatus. She'd die within seconds."
Dumbledore lowered his head. Snape was right but, in being right, he failed to see the consequences. Chances had to be taken, and Dumbledore felt safe taking a chance on Hermione.
“Hermione!” Ron growled, “Will you stop talking about Snape already? It’s nauseating and “ don’t give me that look. If you can call him Severus, I can call him Snape.”
Hermione simply laughed. She was so relieved that she wouldn’t have to hide her affections for her professor from her two best friends. Blinded by her love, she failed to realize how much she was hurting them. After all, Snape had been their second worst enemy next to Voldemort.
Harry glanced at the clock for the twentieth time. He was dreading potions class. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle watching Snape and Hermione, but he was looking forward to it all the same. Would Snape treat them differently? Another glance at the clock told him it was time to go. Harry and Ron stood up with shaking nerves as Hermione sprang, her face lit up with excitement.
As they entered the classroom, Hermione sat as close to Snape as she could get. Harry and Ron followed.
“Turn to page 426.” Snape hissed. “Get out your quills and begin taking notes.”
Snape spun around and sat at his desk, oblivious to the looks of bewilderment on the three Gryffindor’s faces.
Harry turned to Hermione. “He sure isn’t acting any different.”
Hermione’s face reflected panic.
“Perhaps he is trying to get rid of everyone’s suspicions. Yes, that must be it. He said our love had to remain a secret.”
Harry glanced at Snape again. Was it an act to put off suspicions, or something else?
Death eaters by Love_Me_Not_6964
At the end of class, when everyone had left, Hermione approached Snape's desk.
"Thank you for the poem, Severus," she said uncertainly, "it was beautiful."
Snape stood up in is shock with a disgusted look on his face. What the hell was that girl talking about? What poem?
"Fifty points from Gryffindor for addressing a professor inappropriately!" he hissed, his voice spewing venom.
He couldn't believe it! This girl had the nerve to come to his desk, accuse him of writing some stupid poem, and then -and this was what angered him most- she believed she had the right to address him as Severus? And yet, a peculiar but familiar pang of guilt struck through his heart as she spun around, her eyes brimming with tears, and ran out of his classroom.
Snape walked to the front of his desk, picking up the piece of parchement that had fallen from her hand and, upon reading it, dropped it in shock. It was a complete love poem, written and signed by him.
"I've been framed," he whispered dramatically before falling into his chair.
Alone at his desk, Dumbledore watched this scene in his mind. He had expected Hermione to react this way and had anticipated her visit to his office.
Suddenly, the door to his office burst open as a distraught Hermione ran in.
"Have a seat, Hermione." Dumbledore said lightly.
Hermione sat down and, upon glancing at her, Dumbledore could see the trails of past tears wiped away. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but she had done an excellent job of composing herself.
When she spoke, though, Dumbledore detected a slight quiver in her voice.
"Sir, something is wrong with Professor Snape, he-"
"I'm sure he's fine, Hermione." Dumbledore began, but stopped when she stood with a storm of fury blazing in her eyes.
"He is not fine!" she screamed, "There is something wrong with him, he-"
But before she could finish, Snape burst into the room.
"Professor Dumbledore, we have a problem. After class Mrs. Granger said something that led me to believe she is delusional and-"
Hermione cleared her throat and Snape jumped back in surprise as his face curled into disgust.
"You!" he hissed as Dumbledore ushered him out of his office.
"Severus, I will speak with you in a moment."
Dumbledore turned to Hermione, fresh tears springing from her eyes.
"See, I told you-"
"Hermione, Hermione, calm down. I hate to go against Professor Snape's wishes, but I believe you have a right to know and I fear what will take place if you don't. Snape has erased his memory of ever loving you."
At the look on her face, Dumbledore paused and handed her some tea, then continued.
"He did not do it because he wanted to forget, he did it -drink, dear, it will help- he did it to protect the both of you. You know what the Cruciatus curse does. He would be unable to control his thoughts. If Voldemort even finds an inkling of good in him..."
Hermione nodded her understanding, gazing at the door that Snape now stood behind.
"So that's it then," she sobbed, "he hates me again."
Dumbledore chuckled. "He doesn't hate you, Mrs. Granger... This is just how it HAS to be. Just remember, he erased his memory specifically to protect you. I believe there is still love in him. It's just where it used to be...and that's where it needs to stay as long as he's a spy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snape looked at himself in the mirror, a sickening feeling washing over him. He was cloaked in the robes of a death-eater, a mask covered his face. Looking around for his wand, he bumped into his bedside table and cursed.
“Compose yourself,” he thought, “or you will die before the end of this night.”
Snape cleared his mind of all the memories he wanted to hide from Voldemort. No doubt Voldemort would read them whilst he was under the Cruciatus curse, but that mattered not. He had hidden the important memories.
As he made his way across the school grounds into the forbidden forest, a thought occurred to him. Had he actually fallen in love? Could that be one of the memories stirring in the Pensieve? No, that was he ridiculous. He “Severus Snape- in love! Snape snorted at the possibility of him falling in love, let alone with Hermione!
“Miss Granger…” that ever-faithful voice whispered in his mind.
Once at the point where he could Apparate, Snape glided to a stop, allowing himself to breathe in the free air. In less than an hour, the air he breathed would reek with the smell of blood and vomit. The silence he now savored would be consumed by shrieks of torture and he would view the world with a blood- red haze.
Breathing one last puff of crisp air, he Apparated with a pop and found himself standing in a graveyard. It was a cemetery worthy of any muggle, horror film with crooked epitaphs and foggy mist swirling up to his calves.
“Severus!” a voice hissed, cutting into the darkness, “You are late!”
Snape knew that to offer an excuse would only get him killed, so he stood there silently, bracing himself for the punishment he knew would come. With a shrill scream he felt his knees crash to the ground and found himself savoring the pain. It was a change in comparison to the emptiness he so often felt. His chest gave a pop as he doubled over in pain and his throat and lungs hurt from screaming. It lasted naught but a few seconds, then vanished, leaving a dull throb where excruciating pain had been born. A glance at his leg told him it was severely broken and “though he could have mended it right then- he left it alone, fearing what may happen if he attempted to fix it.
Voldemort began walking towards Snape, his robes billowing about in a fashion that spoke of power. “So,” he hissed, “how is dear Dumbledore?”
Snape looked him in the eye and forced a laugh. “The fool believes you to be weak.”
Voldemort threw his head back, barking out what Snape figured to be a laugh, but then stopped suddenly, lifting Snape up by the throat.
“I would not underestimate Albus if I were you. He is not so easily fooled, even by me.”
Snape kept his eyes locked on Voldemort’s, his vision becoming a swirling black pit.
“Unfortunately,” Voldemort hissed, dropping Snape like a rag-doll, “It has come to my attention that there is a traitor within this very vicinity. I would think that you all know the consequences of betraying me, but your stupidity never ceases, does it?”
Snape’s breath caught as he forced himself to stay calm. Could he know?
“One of you,” Voldemort continued, sweeping his wand across the death eaters, “Yes, one of you has been revealing my plans to our enemies. But who?” his eyes came across Snape’s. “I know who, gentlemen.”
He spun around facing Snape again, but Snape’s face was a façade of calm curiosity. Voldemort took a few steps toward him until he was within inches of his face. His violet eyes bore into Snape’s. His rancid breath flared in his nostrils.
“I believe Snape knows…”
Snape’s broken leg gave an involuntary jerk and he heard it snap again, but his breathing remained calm and steady.
“Please, my lord,” he began, “endeavors to enlighten my ignorant self.”
Voldemort lowered his eyelids, then spun around and struck another death eater with a curse. The man crashed to the ground as his bones began to tear his skin.
“Johnson, here, is a traitor to me! A traitor to you! You know what to do…”
The death eaters closed in on Johnson, now shrieking and torn in half, and began hitting him with the worst curses. Malfoy was shouting a curse to prolong Johnson’s life. Snape joined in order to keep Voldemort’s suspicions at bay. Too late. Snape’s screams joined Johnson’s as he slammed to the ground once more. His bones felt as if they were shattering and his muscles stretched beyond their natural limitations. Through all this, Snape witnessed a light. It was dim at first, but as it grew he noticed it had taken the form of a woman. The angel grabbed his hand and whispered in his ear, encouraging him to live. Hermione…
Voldemort stopped, still laughing, as Snape slammed back into reality. Why had Miss Granger been there? And why did he keep calling her “Hermione”?
“Severus, my son,” Voldemort cackled, “I believe you are the first ever to smile at the Cruciatus curse. I may have use for you, yet…”
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.