A/N: Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to JKRowling. The romantic novels bits are mine, though.
Written for VenusDeMilo's Writer's Block Challenge from WIKTT!
The Premise: Hermione has writer's block (and haven't we all, at sometime or another?), and it's our job to drag her out of that formidable hole.
The Rules: Student Hermione's writing must be something other than homework. Post-Hogwarts Hermione must be some sort of professional writer (journalist, novelist, lyricist, etc. you decide).
Severus must be a main character, though whether he be muse or distraction I leave to you. [He's both here :D]
Hermione must try, and fail at, at least one "cure" for writer's block.
At least one of the following must be used:
a. "I made mashed potatoes." / "Yes… and muffins." CHECK!
b. Someone starting a blank piece of paper/parchment/computer screen that stares back. CHECK!
c. Large quantities of bubbles… extra points if used for drama or angst.
d. A table overturned in anger… extra points if it's the table that's angry. CHECK!
e. "The children…. My god won't somebody think of the children."
f. "Oh my god, there's an orgy in my mouth!" CHECK!
The story should end with Hermione engrossed in writing. CHECK!
Just a Few Paragraphs of Your Time
Her breast rose and fell beneath the transparent fabric of her chemise with tortured breathes.
"You know I can't be with you." Cassandra pushed back her fire-bright hair to reveal a face of strong, but feminine features.
"You mean, of course, 'I won't be with you'," Vittorio said as he sauntered towards her, with his rich, velvet cloak billowing behind him and his shirt pressed to his chiseled-marble abs.
"Fine, I won't be with you. Either way, you are alone." She glared at him with her fiercely mutinous eyes. He stopped so close to her that she could feel his fevered breath caress her cheek and smell his scent of smoke and blood that stroked already raging fires in her body.
"No, you misunderstand me. It is I," he looked down at her with pitying eyes like long, black tunnels, "ma cherie, who is leaving you."
Lance stepped out of the shadow of the forest, every well-honed muscle on his body trembling with suppressed rage.
"You cannot leave us, Vittorio!" He held his arms out pleadingly to his vampiric lover. "I am bearing your child!"
"Tripe." Hermione crumbled up the parchment with the weary ease of an author who has had to do that a lot. With a perfected motion, she tossed the wad at the wall, where it bounced and fell into the waste basket.
Desperate for ideas and determined to find them, she stormed into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Pass the frozen peas and a quart of year-old strawberry and batwing ice-cream was a baggy containing an over-sized ice cube. She set this on the kitchen table and retrieved a hammer from the tool box which sat in an organized piled of instruments for stripping the wallpaper from the kitchen walls. It was her next project once she sent in the script for her latest novel, and at this rate she might as well give up and spend the rest of her life in bed.
She sighed and hefted the hammer over her head.
"Let there be inspiration!" She brought the hammer wailing down on the ice, which cracked neat and orderly in the bag. Before delving for her prize, she put the hammer back in the tool box and put the bag into a sink, then up-ended it. She broke the chunks of ice apart till she found that special little piece of paper. Triumphantly, like Arthur pulling out his legendary Excalibur from the cursed stone, she pulled the fortune-cookie-sized slip out from the center of a chunk of ice. On it lie the key to resuscitating her muse.
"I owe Hermione one inspirational quote, idea, or thought," she read out loud and glared at the smiley face at the end of the sentence, because she knew, she just knew, he only drew it to mock her.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Determined, she folded the paper and put it in her pocket, then fetched her wand and laptop, and apparated to Café Appela, a trendy coffee shop in Hogsmead.
Her bosom trembled with shaky breathes beneath her fog-thin chemise.
"I'm not going back with you Vittorio. I love Lance, and he loves me. I don't need any more of your bittersweet poison, and neither does he!" The wind tousled her ember-red hair as she held her head high in rebellion.
"I have no doubt of your independence, Cassandra," he stroked her blushing cheek with his bone-thin and snow-white fingers, "but you may want to question your," he chuckled nastily, "Lance about his choice of slow poison." She pressed her cheek further into his cupped hand and trembled with the feeling of his soft palm.
"What do you mean?" she asked breathlessly.
"You are, yourself, your own type of poison." Cassandra jerked back.
And then off.
Hermione nailed the delete button with a vengeance. She released the button and leaned back. The computer screen glowed merrily. She narrowed her eyes at it, but it just kept glowing like a chipper little Christmas tree.
"Nothing would please me more," she told her laptop, "than to grind you into a compact, lightweight, highly-technological powder." She slammed the monitor down with a satisfying click! and sulkily sucked on her pumpkin juice smoothie.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted her prey.
He bent down and swept up a white flower from the ground. His raven-wing-hair concealed a weary face which closely studied the little blossom. His hair was longer than when she last saw him. She supposed he was here to have it trimmed, though she found him heart-shatteringly romantic with the wild length. He pushed a night-black lock behind his ear and, with the same gentle, long-stemmed fingers, crushed the tiny bloom.
Why am I not writing this down? She scrambled to reboot her computer, but by the time it was up and ready, she had forgotten what she had thought.
Obviously, only one road lay open for her to take. With a tap of her wand, she shrunk her laptop and put it in her pocket, then finished off the last dregs of her smoothie and left it on the table, where it promptly disappeared.
Her prey continued his walk down the street, presumably to Halthsitch Hair Styles. She loitered at a door stoop, pretending to be very interested in the time her watch had compared to the miniature tower which told the time. When she was sure he had rounded the corner, she apparated so she was standing just behind him, but he was already facing her and it was with a very unpleased face, and a wand at her throat, that he presented to her.
"I just can't get a jump on you, can I?"
"Why should you? I have twice as many years experience than you." He pocketed his wand again and grimaced at her. "Well? What do you want?" Hermione hugged him, resting her head upon his shoulder.
"Just a few paragraphs of your time," and she apparated both her and her prey back to her home.
Her chest heaved visibly under the waif-thin material of her nightgown.
"Vittorio, you can't keep me here. I'll be free of you; it matters not how long I stay." He stood so close that she could feel the heat bouncing between their bodies. She could feel her muscles tighten, but he didn't seem to notice at all. It was enraging that she should be so easily affected, but that he seems to be able to ignore it.
"I know I cannot keep you, ma petite, and you know that it was never my goal to keep you here forever." He always spoke in riddles. Why else would he bring her to this forsaken forest if but to keep her there as his toy till he tired of her? She would not be there long, for her noble Lance would soon be flying to her rescue.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you know? Why, Lance should be waking up as I speak, clutching Jean-Claude close to him." Cassandra gasped in outrage and complete disbelief. Lance would never risk losing her for one night in the bed of a sleazy, French, succubus slut!
"There must be a shorter way of phrasing it."
Lance would never risk losing her for one night in the bed of Fleur Delacour!
"That's tripe, Hermione. You have obviously lost your enthusiasm for these silly romance novels. I think it would be best if you gave up with superfluous pursuit and returned, full-time, to your studies."
"Shut up; I'm not letting you go." Severus Snape has been pouting in the corner of her work space since she had kidnapped him a few hours before.
"I have classes, and if I don't show up for them, I will be looked for." She sighed and swiveled in her chair to face him.
"It's Friday evening, Severus. By now, you'd either be locked away in your dungeons or you'd be here. They won't miss you till Monday and by then I'll be over this writer's block, and you'll be back cooped up in your cage." She narrowed her eyes at him. "That is, of course, if you will stop acting like a child and start acting like a romantic hero."
"You wouldn't have captured me at all if I hadn't let you hug me." He rubbed the sore skin around his wrists where the Containment Cuffs, a recent American invention designed to prevent the wearer from using any sort of magic with their hands, wand or no, were cutting in. This was the first time Severus had ever worn them for their original purpose.
"You don't even have to wear the buccaneer boots; okay?"
"I demand you release me at once, Hermione, or suffer the consequences." She looked down at him from her high seating. He appeared deadly serious with his threat.
"You're joking, right? You haven't practiced Bewitchedics since the seventies! I've never even seen you try it. Besides, Bewitchedics are only useful for transfiguration and, if I recall, it's very hard to direct the magic. And it's very strenuous on the nose. It can take hours for a nose to regain feeling after use. Give or take, depending on skill and size." He glared at her over his muscular nose. "I will admit, though, you do have the beak for it, Severus."
"This is your final ultimatum, Miss Granger. Release me now or I shall be forced to take drastic measures."
"Funny, drastic measures were exactly why I kidnapped you." She stood up to pull out the little slip of paper from her jean pocket and tossed it into Severus' lap.
"Sometimes even I need a little inspiration when grading papers."
"Really? I wasn't aware career hecklers had writer's block." Severus looked as though he were going cross-eyed, when suddenly from the kitchen a loud BANG! drew Hermione out of her study.
"-AND WHY AM I EMPTY? DOESN'T ANYBODY IN THIS HOUSE EAT!" The kitchen table was very upset indeed. "I'M COLD! CAN'T YOU TURN UP THE HEAT? IT'S LIKE A CAVE IN HERE!" Severus stumbled in behind Hermione, who was standing, hands akimbo, and looking generally unimpressed. "WHOA, I GUESS MY CAVE THEORY REALLY HIT SPOT ON, EH BEAKY?"
"Oh, good aim, Severus."
"If you would have kindly acted your age and released me, I wouldn't have had to go to such extremes."
"I THINK I HAVE TERMITES! CAN'T WE GET AN EXTERMINATOR HERE OR SOMETHING?"
"Is it so terrible, having to spend time with me? Would you really rather be back in your little dungeon, using my inspirational quote to write painstakingly witty insults that will just go over your student's heads anyway?"
"YOU KNOW TERMITES ARE LIKE GANGREEN FOR WOOD FURNATURE!"
"It's still a better use of time than your 'romance novels'. We're a couple! I should be allowed to help support you! You should be studying for your classes instead of wasting your time trying to raise money for tuition. You've always had a need to prove your independence, but that tripe isn't worth your time or talent."
"HOW WOULD YOU FEEL TO LOSE ONE OF YOUR LEGS?"
"This isn't just proof that I can support myself. I like to write these novels! They may be silly and predictable and banal, but-"
BAM! followed by the muffled sound of an angry, over-turned table speaking in capitals and italics.
"I WILL NOT BE TREATED LIKE THIS!"
"Me neither!" Hermione stormed off in the direction of the study.
"WHAT A TEMPER, HUH?"
The thin fabric covering -
"By the way, I've warded all the doors and windows, so don't try to use them to get out," Hermione said with an immense grin spread across her face when Severus, sporting a large pair of white-and-pink bunny ears and whiskers, sulked passed her study door.
Her-
"I have no more romantic synonyms for the chest." Hermione stared uncomprehendingly at the screen. "This can't be!" She looked through her The New Romantic Thesaurus for anything suitable, but it showed her only the same words she has already used.
Her-
She stared at the computer screen, unsure of what to do until she realized that the computer screen was staring back at her, and then she new that what she should do is be mad at Severus.
"I'M BACK! AND BOY IS IT GOOD TO BE IN CONTROL!"
"Snape!"
"THAT'S RIGHT, READERS! NO MORE CRAPPY ROMANCE NOVELS BY HERMIONE! AND NO MORE OF SNAPE'S PORN COLLECTION! UNLESS YOU WANT IT, OF COURSE. ROWR!"
"My nose is numb again." Fuming, Hermione whipped out her wand and restored her laptop to its normal passive state.
Cassandra's pajamas lifted and dropped with the motion of her gigantic basoombas.
"I'm randy as a goat, Cassandra!"
"Snape! Get away from my computer!"
Cassandra, tired of the torrid love triangles that her world seemed to be build upon, decided to forsake chemises and corsets, and instead launch her own company, which restores women to the modern era! That's right, ladies! No more bodices! No more arranged marriages! No more rogues! Modernize! There are a thousand more socially acceptable forms of female torture! Pantyhose! Dating Services! Rogues!
She is now one of the top ten wealthiest women in England.
Vittorio went on to star in many soap operas, but towards the end of his career, his talent, among other things, started to sag, so he had to make money by staring in cheap vampire pornography. All his movies can be seen in Severus Snape's private collection.
Lance died by potion at age 25. He left his florist company to Jena-Claude, who remains there to this day tending it like he did when he was young.
Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair, exhausted and hungry and not even slightly farther along than she was earlier.
So she went into the kitchen and did what her mother did whenever she need a break;
She cooked.
The midnight-haired knight sauntered in like the dark saunters in after the sun. His hair was loose and hiding his face. His long stem-like fingers raked through his hair, giving it that disheveled, rakish look she found so irresistible.
He is very inspiring. She sighed. A true shame, though. The bunny ears really do ruin the effect.
"I made mashed potatoes."
"Yes... and muffins." Hermione was using the muffins- bran oat- to sop up the gravy and mashed potatoes. Severus was quite the prude when it came to his food and he was strictly against mixing more than one flavor. He couldn't stand to see such individual flavors muddled together like that. When he sighed before he spoke, Hermione knew that he was going to apologize in the only way Snape can.
"That looks truly repulsive. How can anyone as intelligent and beautiful as you, though the person who is more intelligent and beautiful than you hasn't existed yet, have such revolting eating habits? Although, I suppose if I can accept that you love to write those romance novels, and that nothing that gives you so much pleasure can be all bad, then I can accept that plate of sickening glop."
Grinning with the pleasure of winning an argument and the feel of being slapped across in the face by her muse, the author stuffed a strip of mashed-potatoes-gravy-muffin in Severus's mouth and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before skipping off to her computer.
"Oh my god, there's an orgy in my mouth!"
Cassandra shivered, though sensibly wrapped in a thick woolen cloak. The cold isn't the only thing that can make one shiver.
"You can't poison me with your words, Vittorio," she exclaimed between breath as ragged as the hem of her skirt. "I won't return to your web of torment. Nothing could make me return to you." She threw her rising-sun hair back and stuck her stubborn chin up, defiance in every bone of her supple body.
Vittorio stepped out of the protection of his forest and into the shining full moon, like a shadow moving against the black trees. Only his pallid face was visible from the dark surroundings. He was clad in black, from his midnight hair, pulled back into an elegant ponytail, to his shining black boots.
"Nothing?" He chuckled softly and wrapped a muscular arm around her waist, drawing her warmth nearer to his hard body.
"Oh, Vittorio!" She abandoned her pride and threw herself into his embrace. "I love you like the moon loves the earth! No matter how far she rises, the moon will always return to him!"
"There was an orgy in my mouth, Hermione. You missed it." Her full concentration was on the computer screen, which was behaving just as a computer screen should and was NOT showing Severus's porn collection. He kissed her gently on the cheek, and gained her attention just long enough for her to unlock the cuffs and give him back his wand.
It's a shame he didn't remember about the bunny ears until he got back to Hogwarts.