Chapter 29:
The Wonders of Being A Hufflepuff and So On and So Forth
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Hannah winced as an obviously smashed Terry bumped into her. She attempted an apathetic gaze as he flailed about on the floor, but then sighed and knelt beside him, holding him still to prevent him from hurting himself- damn her caring nature!
"Alright there, Terry?"
"Eehh- shtat uoo Hunnnna?"
Biting her lip, she contemplated her options. (A) Run like hell or (B) Deal with a drunk Ravenclaw. Extending a hand to help him up, she sighed as he grasped it and hoisted himself up before playing 'This little Piggy' with her fingers.
"Terry," he pouted as the piggies were yanked away from him, "What happened to you?"
Terry sniffed and continued to mourn the loss of his favorite little farm animals.
In the incoherent jumble of words that spilled out of his mouth, Hannah skillfully extracted something that sounded like "Snape" and "lover".
Before falling to the ground in a dead faint, Hannah reflected that it was a shame she hadn't known about Snape's ahem…preferences in advance- her Uncle Albert had been looking a bit lonely these days…
It was a good day for irresistibly beautiful Ravenclaws, Cho decided. But then again, what day wasn't? Her bell-like laugh resounded throughout the dormitory before falling short, as Cho realized that such a stunning girl- no, woman- as herself shouldn't be alone.
She shuffled past her four-poster and rummaged through her trunk, finally selecting a fresh jumper and pleated skirt. After slipping it on, Cho displayed herself before the mirror, letting comments of "Lovely, dear" and "Shame to waste such beauty indoors" roll over her while brushing off imaginary dirt from her immaculate collar.
Now that she was suitable attired, all that was left was her fan club. Hmm, Roger Davies had graduated- that was no good. Justin Finch-Fletchley was too clingy, besides didn't he have a girlfriend now? Oh yes, Murrieta had snapped him up as revenge for the whole DA thing. Ah, the DA! Harry Potter was still hopelessly in love with her, wasn't he?
'Well, that settles it. Now where could he be?'
Shrugging oh-so-demurely, Cho directed herself out the door and toward the library- he was boring enough to be there, she supposed.
Terrence's eye twitched of its own accord as the raven-haired thing openly flirted and touched ("Bitch…") Potter. It wasn't that he was jealous or anything absurd like that…he just- damn. Alright, he was jealous. But- but only because Potter-
'Well shit. I fancy the bastard.' He sighed to himself- stranger things had happened. A high-pitched giggle brought his attention back to him…
"Potter."
"Eh?" Harry glanced at the other boy…who seemed to be steaming. 'Ah- that's not normal.'
"Project, remember?" Terrence inhaled sharply as the bitch tugged on his sleeve.
"Harry," she whined, laying a hand on his arm, "You leaving me?"
Everyone's favorite scarhead blinked and performed the British equivalent to a sweatdrop, "Um, Cho-"
Terrence exhaled with a loud 'whoosh' and yanked Cho's arm and, by attachment, Cho away from Harry and out of the library, where he then deposited her onto the floor with a "Mine!" for good measure.
Stepping back into the room, he plopped down next to Harry and remarked on the lovely weather before turning back to the books on the opposite chair.
Harry closed his gaping mouth and stared wide-eyed at the shaking doors, where he assumed Cho was clawing at the lock. Shuddering slightly, he scooted as inconspicuously as possible away from Terrence- the bloke was mad…
Ernie gulped and shut the door at the request of Parvarti, taking a deep breath before facing her again…and recoiling in horror.
Parvarti's eyes met his, "What? Why does everyone do that? Do I look that bad?"
"A-ah. No…you look spiffy." He forced himself to smile at her, dark circles, matted down hair, and all.
"I haven't been sleeping well," she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, frowning when it became lodged in one particularly tough snarl.
"Uh- any reason?"
Giving him an irritated glance, Parvarti leaned against the cluttered wall of the broom closet.
"You saw," at his blank look, she continued, "Hermione got flowers and candy with a card that said they were from a 'Certain Slytherin'."
"Y-you?"
"Yeah, they were supposed to be from Blaise, but-"
"But?"
"They never got to her! That idiot owl landed in Ron's plate and he ripped the gifts up, that idiot…"
He clucked sympathetically while she shook with fury, "Then I snuck a love letter from him onto her pillow, and the big lug actually sniffed it out!"
"Eh- Ron? In the girl's dorm?"
"No," she broke into tears, "C-Crooksh-shanks!"
"Um…"
"H-he ate it, and then threw it up all over my new shoes!"
"No!" He patted her on the back warily, glancing at the door that she was blocking.
'Damn…'
Hermione coughed and rolled over irritably. Honestly, there was nothing to do- under normal circumstances she'd study, but there was no more work to be done except Prof. McGonagal's suggestion that she "attempt to open up socially"- which, of course, was utter rubbish. She was plenty open already.
The brunette grunted and tugged on one crimson curtain, shaking out the wrinkles. Sighing, she lay back on her pillow and tried again to sleep…
Step. Step.
"Eh?" Hermione glanced up to the…suddenly empty hallway. Curious, curious.
Step. Gurgle.
"Heh," she cleared her throat and plucked up her courage, "W-Who's there?"
'Ah yes, old girl. That stutter was positively frightening. I'm sure that the possible psycho/stalker/rapist won't attack you now…'
Step. Step. Stepstepstepstepstepstep-
"Ah…"
Scuffle. Pound. Pound-
"Screw it-" Hermione winced and mentally noted that she had watched far too many American movies. This thought processed, she stood amidst her wonderings of why in the bloody hell she was on the floor at all, and sprinted toward the door opposite her.
Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.
She squeaked and ran toward the other door- it probably wasn't good sense to run towards the frightening noises.
Cr-Ack!
"Eh?" Hermione turned and winced as the lights snuffed out. 'Ah…'
Turning around the face the no-doubt frightening and maybe even dangerous noises, she frowned as the dark pressed in about her eyes.
"Just my luck, of course." A faint groan reverberated throughout the room, and Hermione flinched but nonetheless…walked toward it?
"Ack!" She pulled fruitlessly at her legs, willing them to stop. Who knew what was in that room? Torturing devices, maybe? Knives…Whips…Gags…Certainly not fluffy pillows.
"Argh…" Pant. Pant. Pant.
Hermione's eyes widened, "Oh Merlin, don't let me die. No. No. Nononononononono-"
The door seemed to open on its own accord- well, actually it just seemed like it considering her eyes were closed. And, of course, because she was having a nervous breakdown. That too.
"Oh- um. Can I help you?"
"-nonononononononononono- eh?"
He blinked up at her from his position on the floor, "I said- 'Can I help you?'."
She gasped, "Um. No. Sorry."
He nodded, glancing her over with a cautious look as though she were about to jump him, "Right."
The boy then proceeded to ignore her and did a few more push-ups. Well, he tried to. For some reason the drooling girl in the corner distracted him- the saliva was running onto his hands.
He rolled his eyes and stopped, "Anything else?"
"No- I just. Well, I heard noises. Was that…?" She whistled innocently and directed her gaze away from his dripping pectorals ('Mmmmm…').
"Me? No, I don't think so. Through that door though," he nodded off to the side and went back to his workout regime. 'Anthony Goldstein, you are one sexy bastard.'
Hermione offered him a sheepish smile and turned toward the other door where disturbing grunts were disrupting the Ravenclaw's peace judging by his furrowed brow.
"Nghhh-"
Shuddering, she opened the door, and braced herself for the inevitable pain.
…
…
…
…
"Ah…?" Hermione cracked an eye open, looking around for the source of the noises…
"Miss Granger? 20 points from Gryffindor."
The brunette redirected her gaze to the voice, blanching. "Er- Professor Snape?"
A high-pitched giggle came from the four-poster she hadn't noticed, "Severus, come back to bed…"
Hermione swallowed down the bile threatening to rise-"L-Lucius Malfoy?"
Snape smiled patronizingly at her, "Yes dear, now scat- the grownups want to play…"
She nearly sprinted out of the room and to the nearest toilette- even the image of the oh-so-delectable Anthony Goldstein couldn't save her poor mind now.
After allowing her body to perform its natural responses to no doubt NC-17 rated scenes involving her slimy Potions professor and a fellow student's father, she wiped her mouth wearily and…promptly leaned over the porcelain god to- erm…submit more offerings.
Dear god, Snape had been starkers.
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