Snape sat at the desk in his classroom. Having just dismissed his
last class for the day, his head was throbbing. It seemed as if every
generation of students deteriorated and became even more senseless than the
last- with the exception of the fabulous Miss Granger. Then again, he
wondered what Hogwarts would think if they saw what their precious Head
Girl was up to now.
He smirked at the thought and went into his stores, grabbing an unmarked white bottle and casting various charms to disarm the wards of a heavily disguised box containing a large amount of Duplexplicis. Snape set the two items on the wooden counter and carefully mixed a small amount of the white powder into the Duplexplicis.
He wanted to kiss the bottle of whiteness for its effect on Granger. Why would a wizarding drug be addictive when they had magic on their side? That stupid girl, she probably thought Duplexplicis was addictive on its own. Without the magical white powder, Adixio, added, Snape wouldn't be able to enjoy the effects of withdrawl on the little know-it-all. He loved the look in her brown eyes begging just for one more bottle. It wasn't just desperation, it was embarrassment as well. He knew that when he wasn't around, she would mentally punish herself for being so weak and dependant on not only Duplexplicis, but him. But he had gotten what he wanted; she belonged to him now.
Snape put the bottle of the magical mixture in the pocket of his robes and headed off towards Gryffindor Tower. It was late in the evening. Students were already done with dinner in the Great Hall and Severus Snape was pleased to find that they had already gone to their respective common rooms. When he reached the portrait of the philosopher writing thoughtfully, he looked around to make sure no one could see him.
"Voltaire" he whispered to the portrait. The philosopher looked up with a smile. "No, my dear child, that is not the password." Then, the portrait continued writing.
"Damn," Snape muttered to himself, he didn't think she would have changed it so quickly. He tried to think of another philosopher's name she would use as a password.
"Nietzsche" he tried.
The philosopher wagged his finger like one would do to a child, "That's not it, either. Don't you think you're a little old for the lady anyway?"
"Oh, Shut up." Snape snapped, desperately racking his brain. "John Stuart Mill"
The portrait smiled. "She's not a fan of utilitarianism; run along now."
Snape was thoroughly aggravated by this point.
"Kant."
"No. Sorry, lad."
"Avicenna. Pascal. Locke. Wittgenstein. Spinoza. Magee. Young,"Snape spat out, draining his mental archives of philosophers.
The portrait only laughed.
Snape, letting out a hefty sigh of aggravation, began to question Hermione's predictability. As he was about to whip out his wand and give the portrait something to really laugh about, a light bulb went off in his head.
"Roberts," Snape said with confidence. The portrait stared at him and opened reluctantly. Of course she would choose Roberts; she's an obnoxious feminist and an American, to boot.
Snape climbed inside carefully and saw Hermione's form on the crimson, velvet-covered bed with her back facing him. Crookshanks jumped off the seat below the window and came over to Snape to greet him with an alarmingly loud hiss while letting his red hair stand on end. The professor jumped back in surprise.
"Pointless species," he mumbled and with a quiet, "Petrificus Totalus" the cat stopped in mid hiss, frozen with his paw raised in attack and gently fell on its side in its frozen state.
He sat on the edge of the bed and whispered into her ear, letting his breath linger on her lobes, "Hermione." But he noticed something was wrong; her breathing was irregular. He turned her over and saw the girl he had ruined. Hermione's eyes had rolled into the back of her head and what looked like foam was coming out of the corner of her mouth.
"Fuck," Snape mumbled, jumping up and noticing the empty vial laying on the floor. "Granger- what the fuck were you thinking," He for a pulse. It was weak, but at least it was there.
He spun on his heel and walked as quickly to the dungeons as he could without attracting undue attention to himself. Snape went straight for his closet and quickly began to mix together an antidote for the situation Hermione had gotten herself into
He smirked at the thought and went into his stores, grabbing an unmarked white bottle and casting various charms to disarm the wards of a heavily disguised box containing a large amount of Duplexplicis. Snape set the two items on the wooden counter and carefully mixed a small amount of the white powder into the Duplexplicis.
He wanted to kiss the bottle of whiteness for its effect on Granger. Why would a wizarding drug be addictive when they had magic on their side? That stupid girl, she probably thought Duplexplicis was addictive on its own. Without the magical white powder, Adixio, added, Snape wouldn't be able to enjoy the effects of withdrawl on the little know-it-all. He loved the look in her brown eyes begging just for one more bottle. It wasn't just desperation, it was embarrassment as well. He knew that when he wasn't around, she would mentally punish herself for being so weak and dependant on not only Duplexplicis, but him. But he had gotten what he wanted; she belonged to him now.
Snape put the bottle of the magical mixture in the pocket of his robes and headed off towards Gryffindor Tower. It was late in the evening. Students were already done with dinner in the Great Hall and Severus Snape was pleased to find that they had already gone to their respective common rooms. When he reached the portrait of the philosopher writing thoughtfully, he looked around to make sure no one could see him.
"Voltaire" he whispered to the portrait. The philosopher looked up with a smile. "No, my dear child, that is not the password." Then, the portrait continued writing.
"Damn," Snape muttered to himself, he didn't think she would have changed it so quickly. He tried to think of another philosopher's name she would use as a password.
"Nietzsche" he tried.
The philosopher wagged his finger like one would do to a child, "That's not it, either. Don't you think you're a little old for the lady anyway?"
"Oh, Shut up." Snape snapped, desperately racking his brain. "John Stuart Mill"
The portrait smiled. "She's not a fan of utilitarianism; run along now."
Snape was thoroughly aggravated by this point.
"Kant."
"No. Sorry, lad."
"Avicenna. Pascal. Locke. Wittgenstein. Spinoza. Magee. Young,"Snape spat out, draining his mental archives of philosophers.
The portrait only laughed.
Snape, letting out a hefty sigh of aggravation, began to question Hermione's predictability. As he was about to whip out his wand and give the portrait something to really laugh about, a light bulb went off in his head.
"Roberts," Snape said with confidence. The portrait stared at him and opened reluctantly. Of course she would choose Roberts; she's an obnoxious feminist and an American, to boot.
Snape climbed inside carefully and saw Hermione's form on the crimson, velvet-covered bed with her back facing him. Crookshanks jumped off the seat below the window and came over to Snape to greet him with an alarmingly loud hiss while letting his red hair stand on end. The professor jumped back in surprise.
"Pointless species," he mumbled and with a quiet, "Petrificus Totalus" the cat stopped in mid hiss, frozen with his paw raised in attack and gently fell on its side in its frozen state.
He sat on the edge of the bed and whispered into her ear, letting his breath linger on her lobes, "Hermione." But he noticed something was wrong; her breathing was irregular. He turned her over and saw the girl he had ruined. Hermione's eyes had rolled into the back of her head and what looked like foam was coming out of the corner of her mouth.
"Fuck," Snape mumbled, jumping up and noticing the empty vial laying on the floor. "Granger- what the fuck were you thinking," He for a pulse. It was weak, but at least it was there.
He spun on his heel and walked as quickly to the dungeons as he could without attracting undue attention to himself. Snape went straight for his closet and quickly began to mix together an antidote for the situation Hermione had gotten herself into