A/N: I wrote the first half of this chappie at camp. BTW, Eritae, I was
there for a week of camp. Have you done the zip line there? It is
soooooooo fun! And after what you said about the bench, I couldn't resist
sitting on it. It did feel all cold and creepy when I did, but I liked
that because it was hot outside and it felt good. After that, I had to
repack to drive for 11 hours to my dad's house, which I have done. Sorry I
haven't updated in so long, but this extra long chappie is coming to you
fresh and hot off the press from Indiana! PS Wacko, I might just weedle in
said suggestion in future chapters, or maybe in this one if I can.
Thankies to all my kuddly reviewers!
Chapter Five:
Hermione Granger practicly ran to her head girl's room, horrified at what had just transpired. She hugged Professor Snape! She was comforted by the overgrown bat of the dungeons!
She felt a sudden pang of guilt. Why was Snape the only thing on her mind? What was she going to do about rescuing her parents? Wait, maybe Snape could help her. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that teaching wasn't the only thing Snape was up to around here. She would just have to bite the bullet and ask him on Saturday.
Saturday, which she realized with a start, was tomorrow! What was she going to do? She couldn't face him so soon after what happened earlier. She would never live that down! She started to pace nervously.
After about ten minutes, it was odvious that she wasn't going to fall asleep in the near future. Hermione decided to grab a book and go down to the common room to read. She reached into her bag to grab a book randomly. Low and behold, she pulled out 'Moste Potente Potions,' which she had aquired last summer.
Sighing to herself and taking it down to the common room, she murmered, "Severus bugs me when he's here and even when he's not. That man is such a- "
She was cut off with a familiar voice saying, "Ok, hold up. Since when do you call Snape Severus?!" Harry Potter got up from where he was curled up on the well worn scarlet couch in front of the embers of a dying fire.
Honestly, Hermione couldn't answer his question. The name snuck off her tongue whith out her realization.
Seeing Harry there, knowing that since he hadn't seen her go to bed he decided to wait up for her, sent a fresh torrent of tears cascading down her quivering cheeks. Harry looked startled and quickly pulled her into an embrace, saying, "Are you ok, 'Mione? What's wrong?"
"Oh, Harry," Hermione choked out between sobs, "He has my parents!"
Harry, looking quite confused, cut in saying, "Who? Snape?"
This only caused Hermione to bawl louder, neatly soaking the shoulder of Harry's snitch-adorned flannel pajamas. "No, you imbecile, Voldemort! Voldemort has my my parents! Harry, what am I going to do?"
Harry didn't know how to comfort the distraught female leaning on his shoulder and drenching his jammies with tears. His dillemma was short- lived however, because Hermione spoke up.
"Can I borrow your cloak, Harry? Please! I just need a little time to myself, ok?" Chocolate eyes met emerald when Harry melted and said, "Ok, but promise me, 'Mione, be careful. They attacked your family for a reason. They want you because you're friends with me. I'm sorry that I got you into this mess." He hung his head dejectedly,
Hermione put her hands on Harry's cheeks, pulled his face down so that their noses touched, and whispered forcefully, "Harry James Potter, you listen to me. None of this is your fault. You never asked for it, yet it was dumped on you. I wouldn't trade my friendship with you for the world."
Harry gave a small grin and said, "Thanks. You know I feel the same way for you." At this, Hermione started laughing, first a bit of a giggle, then growing into a massive guffaw. Harry looked indignant and whined, "What?"
"Harry, you have a gigantic piece of spinach from dinner rammed between your teeth. I should be thanking you for cheering me up. I feel much better now!"
Sarcasticly, Harry muttered, "Any time." Then he hugged Hermione and ran to his dorm to get the cloak.
When he returned, Hermione grabbed the cloak, gave him a quick and friendly peck on the cheek, (A/N: don't worry, not HP/HG, those make me sick) and hurried out of the common room.
Before her laughing fit, she was unsure about where she would be going on this midnight journey, but now she knew. It had felt so good to forget. She craved more.
As if on autopilot, her feet traveled the well-known path to the Room of Requirement, where she had spent so many happy times. She had come there tonight with a slightly different goal. She performed the operational steps, and as she opened the door, she beheld a dimly lit chamber with a huge, fluffy couch, a table, and a crate of Jack Daniel's Tennessee finest.
To be completely honest, Hermione Granger had had only one sip of alchohol in her entire life. On New Year's Eve a few years ago, her father had let her try some champagne. One swig sent her tastebuds violently protesting, but she remembered the slight dizzy feeling that afflicted her, considering it to suit her purpose nicely, multiplied of course.
Hermione plopped herself down onto the sofa and grabbed a bottle. Remembering the vile taste of champagne, she cringed how whiskey might taste. As a precautionary measure, she performed a tounge-numbing spell before removing the lid of the bottle.
Her intellect screaming protests and her emotions ignoring them, she chugged the stuff down like a pro. Anybody who saw her would say that she had been drinking for years.
After a formidable number of empty bottles were strewn haphazardly onto the rug around a highly intoxicated and deliriously happy Hogwarts Head Girl, said student made a decision that proved what every health teacher had been trying to broadcast to yawning, oblivious students for years.
She decided to pay the Hogwarts resident Potions Professor a visit and give him a piece of her mind.
Chapter Five:
Hermione Granger practicly ran to her head girl's room, horrified at what had just transpired. She hugged Professor Snape! She was comforted by the overgrown bat of the dungeons!
She felt a sudden pang of guilt. Why was Snape the only thing on her mind? What was she going to do about rescuing her parents? Wait, maybe Snape could help her. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that teaching wasn't the only thing Snape was up to around here. She would just have to bite the bullet and ask him on Saturday.
Saturday, which she realized with a start, was tomorrow! What was she going to do? She couldn't face him so soon after what happened earlier. She would never live that down! She started to pace nervously.
After about ten minutes, it was odvious that she wasn't going to fall asleep in the near future. Hermione decided to grab a book and go down to the common room to read. She reached into her bag to grab a book randomly. Low and behold, she pulled out 'Moste Potente Potions,' which she had aquired last summer.
Sighing to herself and taking it down to the common room, she murmered, "Severus bugs me when he's here and even when he's not. That man is such a- "
She was cut off with a familiar voice saying, "Ok, hold up. Since when do you call Snape Severus?!" Harry Potter got up from where he was curled up on the well worn scarlet couch in front of the embers of a dying fire.
Honestly, Hermione couldn't answer his question. The name snuck off her tongue whith out her realization.
Seeing Harry there, knowing that since he hadn't seen her go to bed he decided to wait up for her, sent a fresh torrent of tears cascading down her quivering cheeks. Harry looked startled and quickly pulled her into an embrace, saying, "Are you ok, 'Mione? What's wrong?"
"Oh, Harry," Hermione choked out between sobs, "He has my parents!"
Harry, looking quite confused, cut in saying, "Who? Snape?"
This only caused Hermione to bawl louder, neatly soaking the shoulder of Harry's snitch-adorned flannel pajamas. "No, you imbecile, Voldemort! Voldemort has my my parents! Harry, what am I going to do?"
Harry didn't know how to comfort the distraught female leaning on his shoulder and drenching his jammies with tears. His dillemma was short- lived however, because Hermione spoke up.
"Can I borrow your cloak, Harry? Please! I just need a little time to myself, ok?" Chocolate eyes met emerald when Harry melted and said, "Ok, but promise me, 'Mione, be careful. They attacked your family for a reason. They want you because you're friends with me. I'm sorry that I got you into this mess." He hung his head dejectedly,
Hermione put her hands on Harry's cheeks, pulled his face down so that their noses touched, and whispered forcefully, "Harry James Potter, you listen to me. None of this is your fault. You never asked for it, yet it was dumped on you. I wouldn't trade my friendship with you for the world."
Harry gave a small grin and said, "Thanks. You know I feel the same way for you." At this, Hermione started laughing, first a bit of a giggle, then growing into a massive guffaw. Harry looked indignant and whined, "What?"
"Harry, you have a gigantic piece of spinach from dinner rammed between your teeth. I should be thanking you for cheering me up. I feel much better now!"
Sarcasticly, Harry muttered, "Any time." Then he hugged Hermione and ran to his dorm to get the cloak.
When he returned, Hermione grabbed the cloak, gave him a quick and friendly peck on the cheek, (A/N: don't worry, not HP/HG, those make me sick) and hurried out of the common room.
Before her laughing fit, she was unsure about where she would be going on this midnight journey, but now she knew. It had felt so good to forget. She craved more.
As if on autopilot, her feet traveled the well-known path to the Room of Requirement, where she had spent so many happy times. She had come there tonight with a slightly different goal. She performed the operational steps, and as she opened the door, she beheld a dimly lit chamber with a huge, fluffy couch, a table, and a crate of Jack Daniel's Tennessee finest.
To be completely honest, Hermione Granger had had only one sip of alchohol in her entire life. On New Year's Eve a few years ago, her father had let her try some champagne. One swig sent her tastebuds violently protesting, but she remembered the slight dizzy feeling that afflicted her, considering it to suit her purpose nicely, multiplied of course.
Hermione plopped herself down onto the sofa and grabbed a bottle. Remembering the vile taste of champagne, she cringed how whiskey might taste. As a precautionary measure, she performed a tounge-numbing spell before removing the lid of the bottle.
Her intellect screaming protests and her emotions ignoring them, she chugged the stuff down like a pro. Anybody who saw her would say that she had been drinking for years.
After a formidable number of empty bottles were strewn haphazardly onto the rug around a highly intoxicated and deliriously happy Hogwarts Head Girl, said student made a decision that proved what every health teacher had been trying to broadcast to yawning, oblivious students for years.
She decided to pay the Hogwarts resident Potions Professor a visit and give him a piece of her mind.