First off, big thank yous to BLAZE... and ChicagoMyth for the words of encouragement :) If you haven't noticed, I'm TRYING to post a chapter a day. If I miss a day, it'll be two chapters the next day. I'd like to have this thing up before the end of July, other wise I'll have to post from Germany, and that won't be easy because I'll have better things to do. Okay, read on and enjoy!
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Chapter 3 - Obsessions
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The action of eating breakfast typically isn't too exciting, but this morning, Hermione gazed enthralled at Professor Snape. He poked and prodded at his breakfast, lifting his fried egg with his fork and looking under it as if expecting to find a lost Shakespearian sonnet. He glared maliciously into his glass of orange juice, apparently trying to dissolve the pulp by means of telekinesis or intimidation, whichever proved more functional. He even ripped his roll in half and violently buttered it, nearly stabbing himself in the hand a few times. Typically, Snape expressed his anger through harshly spoken words in his frighteningly-cool tone, but never physically like this. Hermione's observation of Snape's every move was nothing out of the ordinary in the world of her secret obsession. But the way he demolished his meal without ever taking a bite was new to her. She was captivated, but worried.
Snape sent a scowl across the room at no one in particular, but ended up catching the eye of one Harry Potter. Harry smiled at him. How dare the boy have the audacity to smile at him? Harry broke their eye contact to continue talking animatedly with Ginny. Stupid petty childish romance. Childish conversation. Everything his nephew did was childish. Why couldn't he grow up? The boy was sixteen years old. When Severus was sixteen, he was mixing potions that could cure most modern diseases, he could transfigure anything that stood still long enough for him to transfigure it, and most importantly, he was in love with the most beautiful creature to ever cross his path. She, of course, wouldn't give him the time of day, well not anymore at least, but he loved her nonetheless. Now Harry Potter was in love with the second most beautiful creature to ever cross his path. Did the wonders never cease?
James Potter had stolen his spotlight, his dignity, and the one woman who had ever captivated his heart. Now his good-for-nothing offspring was stealing his second chance at love right out from under his nose. Ginevra Weasley. Uninhibited, vivacious, feisty, breathtaking in every manner, mature beyond her years, and downright delightful to look at. It would be many, many years before age would take its toll on her flawless form. He couldn't help but think of how time had chiseled away at his own form until he was nothing more than a cold and bitter shell of a man. No wonder she had run to Potter. What could a sour, vile, former Death Eater, thirty-seven year old curmudgeon offer such a stunning girl?
Age meant very little in the wizarding world. Hell, Albus Dumbledore, who was teetering at the edge of a century and a half, did very little to conceal his relationship with the hundred-year-old Minerva McGonagall. That was fully fifty years difference. But Severus knew he was a crotchety old coot, not to mention that Ginny Weasley was his student, and a damn bright one at that. No one would ever, could ever, want him. He took at violent stab at one of the sausages on his plate. Fie it all. He dropped his silverware and stood from the table, heart set on storming back to his potions laboratory and taking away house points at anything and anyone that got in his way. Not that anyone gave a hoot whether he was at breakfast or not.
But across the room, a pair of light brown eyes studied his every move.
"Earth to Hermione?" Ron prodded.
"Ground control to Major Tom?" Harry quipped.
"What are you talking about, Harry?" the redhead inquired, quite confused.
"Muggle thing. Mione?"
"I'm sorry. What were you saying?" She quit idly drowning her raisins in her oatmeal and tore her gaze from the staff door through which Snape had just passed.
"How should Harry and I die today? I want to be decapitated, but he wants to drown. Any ideas?"
"You're completely morbid."
"Am not! It's for divinations!"
"I might have guessed. That class is such rubbish. Why can't you two discuss something more substantial, like potions?" Harry twisted his face. "Anyway, I have to write a conclusion for my Muggle Studies paper regarding the importance of monarchies before class. I'll see you two in transfigurations."
She got out of her seat, picked up her bag, and took a few steps before turning around to face the boys again. "By the way, I think you should be poisoned."
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Classes went as expected on any given Friday. The students were wound up with anticipation for the quidditch game to take place on Sunday between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. After a boring lecture on colonialism in Muggle Studies, Hermione went to Transfigurations. Nothing exciting happened there, unless you considered transfiguring feather dusters into birds exciting. Ron managed to make his duster squawk, and Harry's sprouted wings and legs. Neville's fell apart and the individual feathers flew away. Seamus's caught fire (because some things never change.) Hermione was so distracted that her bird wound up flying around dusting Professor McGonagall's shelves. She feared her grade would suffer because she didn't clear up her duster's behavioral issues. After that, it was off to another exciting round of double potions. Snape had been on edge all through class, and took away twenty points from Gryffindor strictly through Harry, though Neville had given him plenty of opportunities. Surprisingly, Neville's potion turned out well, without help from Hermione. Maybe it was because of his obvious preoccupation with a certain red-headed fifth year, not to mention a burning desire to succeed to impress her. She sighed and gazed at the old bitter professor, enchanted by his graceful movements as he stormed around his classroom. Such a callous man on the outside simply had to have a deliciously soft core inside. There was no way he wasn't hiding something.
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Snape sighed and sat down in an overstuffed leather wingback chair in his private rooms. Upon first glance, he looked relaxed, content, and everything was perfect. He sat gazing into his fireplace, snifter of brandy in one hand and idly rubbing his chin with the other. Below the surface, he was a swirling tide of emotion, and nearly all of them could be traced back to Harry 'how can I play hero today' Potter.
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Up in the Gryffindor common room, students relaxed after a grueling week of studies. No witch or wizard had ever claimed that learning magic was easy. Some played wizard chess and exploding snap, others gossiped in front of the fire, and some absentmindedly flipped through books, newspapers, or magazines. One couple was curled up on the couch in the corner, surrounded by their friends.
"So who'd you reckon will win on Sunday?"
"Slytherin. Hands down." Ron slapped the table. He could get so animated when talking quidditch. "I hate them, but they're just too bloody good this year."
"I still think Ravenclaw's got an incredible team going for them this time around." Ginny wasn't much better, what with growing up in a house full of boys.
"Ravenclaw, love? Honestly, I'd venture to say you've fallen off your broom one too many times." Harry teased, tickling her. But she defended herself nicely and elbowed him in the ribs. When Harry was allowed to come back to quidditch for sixth year, Ginny was put into the spot that Katie Bell had vacated among the chasers.
"Think about it. Malfoy couldn't catch a snitch to save his life." Of course, Harry knew a quality seeker when he saw one. Everyone knew he was the best Hogwarts had seen in years. Though he was only in his sixth year, he was being scouted by the pros already.
"She's got a point there. That punk's got his head so far up his arse he could see his tonsils, but certainly not the snitch." Ron's eyes lit up, as he found immense pleasure in harassing Draco behind his back. The group joined him in a good laugh at Malfoy's expense.
"But with Crabbe and Goyle in for Derrick and Bole as beaters this year, those Ravenclaw chasers don't stand a chance. Those two are brutal," Neville piped up from his spot on the floor by Ron's chair.
"Trust Snape to let those two oafs on the team," Ginny quipped.
"You can't blame Professor Snape. It's Pucey's fault for letting them come anywhere near a bludger bat." The group's eyes widened at Hermione for her correct use of a quidditch term.
"Y-y-you… you… you just said bludger bat! I-i-i-in correct context! The Apocalypse has started!!!" Ron stammered, nearly falling out of his chair and landing on Neville's lap.
"Merlin knows I hang out with you lot too much." Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her legs the other way to face away from the group.
"Right, well, that just made my night. I really doubt anything can top that. I'm turning in. I'll see you guys tomorrow morning." Regaining sanity, Ron stood up, gave his sister a warm pat on the shoulder, tousled Harry's hair in exchange for a sneer, said his goodnights, and went up the stairs to the boy's dorms.
The group's conversation slowly died down from that point, and other students were clearing out of the common room. It was down to Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Neville.
"Okay, I'm tired. I'll fully admit it." Hermione stood, stretched, and made no effort to stifle a wide, gaping yawn. "I'm turning in. Until breakfast." She left too.
Neville was obviously not tired.
"So, Professor Sprout reckons that my mimbulus mimbletonia will be in full bloom by next week!" The couple on the couch glared at him. Apparently they had their own plans for the evening. He was oblivious. "She says that once the blossoms dry up and drop off, we'll be able to get a batch of alertness potion brewed up. That is, of course, if Professor Snape will let us borrow his lab for an evening. But since the potion is for the Order, I doubt he'll turn us down." They continued to glare.
Harry interrupted Neville's overconfident ramblings. "Neville. You realize this is Snape you're talking about, right? He only knows you as a cauldron-melter."
"But I've gotten better! You know I have, Harry! You saw the one I made today? That thing at LEAST deserves an A! Gran'll be so proud!"
"Neville. Why don't you go up to your room and think about it for a bit." Ginny continued glaring at him. A light in his head clicked on. He stood up, smirked at Ginny, winked at Harry, and crept up to his room.
"I thought we'd never get rid of them." Ginny nuzzled into Harry's neck.
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Ok, fair warning. Smut next chapter. Two consenting teenagers. Once you admit to yourself that teenagers have sex whether you like it or not, it's a lot easier to read. I promise not to to use any of those horrid 4-letter words (like cock, cunt, spunk, etc) all those icky words. It's just two people who are very much in love having a bit of fun. But that's next chapter. Thought I'd let you know so you can skip the chapter if you get squicked.