Title: An Inevitable Fate
Chapter Thirteen: The Morning After
Author: KissThis
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Rating: R - if not now, then later.
Pairing: Obvious
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.
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Disclaimer: Piffle. I wish I owned Harry Potter. Unfortunately, the only things I own are a bent coat hanger and a Magic 8 Ball that's sprung a leak. Thank you, I'm here all year.
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A/N: Okthe beginning of this chapter is going to require a little thinking on your part. Not a lot -- just a little. I hope this chapter came out as well as it sounded in my head.
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Special Thanks: Thanks a bunch to RememberingME! She helped me brainstorm a bunch of plot points for the story and deserves an honorable mention. *coughcough*readherstories*coughcough*
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Hermione sat bolt upright as if an invisible string had "pulled" her awake. The green satin sheets of her bed fell from her naked body and pooled around her waist.
Even as she worked her way to the realization that she had in fact been pulled from Dreaming and back into the real world, the leathery feel of her tongue and the taste of last night's meal on her breath made themselves known.
With the bathroom as her destination, Hermione flung her covers off and dropped to the floor. The cold wood floor sent icy jolts up her legs, which startled her, but were not enough to bring her completely into wakefulness. Dark and shadowed shapes registered dimly in her mind and she saw the scene in her mind; fuzzy, like looking through a thick-paned sheet of glass.
The sharp corner of the bedside table connected painfully with her knee and she banged her toe against an object just past that; almost knocking it over. Hermione exhaled her breath in a long, low hiss of pain. Finally her hand grasped a doorknob. In a sign of relief her shoulder sagged and she pulled open the door.
Cotton scratched her cheeks and different textures assailed her exposed skin. She groped for the light, but knocked something down in the process. As it brushed her leg its smooth surface was icy against her skin.
This is not the bathroom
Somehow she had ended up in the closet when she had really been trying to reach the bathroom.
"Must've gotten...turned around." She muttered dazedly to herself.
An aroma reached her now. She sniffed the air around her delicately until she could recognize it as a smell she'd only encountered precious little in her life. It smelled of sex.
Her amber eyes, which until now had been half-closed with early-morning fatigue, now widened dramatically. The primal scent brought her back to wakefulness in a way nothing else could and she was suddenly very aware of the things around her.
This was not her room...
She saw everything her sleepy mind at failed to register upon first contact..
The closet and the bathroom having switched places.
The green and silver striped tie that had fallen from its closet hook at her feet.
The broomstick she had stubbed her toe against.
The hardwood floor instead of plush carpet.
The green satin sheets where there should only be golden silk.
She couldn't stop her eyes from traveling up those same sheets and landing on the man lying wrapped within them. It was impossible to ignore him when his pale looks made him stand out. Frosty ivory skin was instantly visible everywhere the satin sheets became tangled. He stirred slightly and Hermione held her breath apprehensively. But he did not wake; simply rolled over and nuzzled his head into the adjacent pillow. Silvery blonde locks fluttered upwards as he breathed out and then drifted back down at every inhalation.
Oh my god...
Everything was coming back into focus. The events of the previous night went whirling through her mind like tiny frames in a slideshow. Her own screams of pleasure continued on through visions of unfamiliar faces and scenes of different times. Everything was so jumbled and she couldn't force herself to sort through all her thoughts.
Hermione stumbled about the room as quietly as she could; grabbing her scattered items of clothing and pulling them on as she went (How her tie ended up hooked around the bathtub faucet she had no idea). And even then she continued to remember the scenes of the night before -- still whirling violently through her mind-vision.
She shivered as she relived the passion and pleasure. Suddenly, she was inside her memory seeing things as she had the night before. Blonde hairs brushed against her forehead and she screamed as she was buried beneath the waves of ecstasy. But even as her body teetered on the brink her head was sharp and clear. Strange faces appeared out of the shadowy corners of her mind. They had no names; no bodies.
The primal energy Draco had stirred inside of her had released something else inside of her. Perhaps something to do with her power. It was an odd feeling; being detached from her other senses as Draco ravished her body. Hermione heard her own voice scream out his name just as an invisible hand pushed her over the cliff and a golden light burst out across her body.
Falling never felt so good.
Draco called out as well, but she hadn't heard him. Her body was pulsing with a warm amber light and the ultimate plan that would save the world was just starting to form in her subconscious mind.
Hope's power had taken over. Something about Draco, something he had done, had pushed it to the surface -- brought it to consciousness. How had he managed to make her power erupt where she had failed?
She would be seething with anger if she hadn't just done what she did. Hermione was torn between what she should do. If there had been a mirror near by she would have seen her amber eyes flickering wildly with their haunting ocher glow.
Draco shifted again and Hermione fled.
The beeping of Draco's alarm clock awoke him an hour later. He lay there a moment, as was his routine, and listened to the device emit a series of varied beeps and rings. A pale hand rose from the sea of green and flicked its power switch. His gaze then turned from his own hand to the window overhead and the prism of light that was shining through it. He inhaled deeply expecting fresh Scotland air to greet his lungs, but was instead filled with the muggy stench of his sealed off room. In the thrall of last night's "activities" his usual habit of opening his window before sleep had been forgotten. Thinking about the incredible hours he had spent with Hermione made him smile. Still filled with the erotic memories of their lovemaking he rolled over and reached out for her warm body beside his own. His hand met nothing but rumpled sheets already cool and devoid of any human warmth Hermione had bestowed upon them.
"Hermione?" He asked loudly into the silence. Draco strained his ears in hopes of hearing the diminished sounds of running water coming from his bathroom, or the riffling through of clothes from within his closet. But it was useless.
Hermione was gone.
Hermione's foot taped impatiently upon the stone as the gryphon staircase leading to Dumbledore's office slowly twisted downwards. And when the main floor came into view, Hermione didn't even wait for the magic staircase to stop, but ducked under the doorframe and hopped off. She had just been excused from a very interesting meeting with Dumbledore; one which, she herself, had initiated.
The clicking of her shoes on the stone was embarrassingly fast and she felt her face heat up, though no one was in the halls to see it. It wasn't as if time was short. Nevertheless, she felt the need to rush. Especially if she was going to catch Professor Snape before class started. She wanted to be able to talk with him when there were no shields between them.
Even now she found herself standing outside the dungeon door. Placing her palm on the old oak she gave it a firm push and then followed through the space it had opened. Snape was sitting at his desk; swathed in his usual layers of black he was almost indiscernible from the dark and shadowed background of his classroom. The sleek eagle quill in his hand scratched quietly against a stack of smooth parchments. Bold red ink -- still wet -- glistened blatantly upon the backgrounds of sepia. He was checking papers.
The click of the door's handle as she closed it behind her made her Professor look up from his requisite duties. He gave her a quick once-over and then his eyes darted to something on his desk. Hermione, who had become quite fluent in Snape's speech patterns and his tiny idiosyncrasies, took this release from his gaze as her cue to continue up to his desk.
"You're here rather early, Miss Granger." He commented dryly. Hermione hoisted herself up onto the corner of his desk and sat there; he turned a small object toward her. It was a clock. Hermione become momentarily enraptured with the tiny second's hand as it steadily ticked its way around beneath the glass plating. She guessed that this was what Snape had glanced at upon her entry. He placed the small timepiece back in its place and adjusted it slightly so that it was exactly as it had been.
"Obsessive compulsive are we?" She mused aloud -- meaning the clock. Snape sneered up at her and dabbed his quill tip back into the inkwell -- pointedly refraining from comment.
Hermione sat there with her legs crossed and her fingers drumming idly on her knees listening to the subtle sounds of Snape's quill. But while she seemed to be waiting quietly for class to start the mischievous smile on her face told another story. With a dramatically loud huff several strands of hair drifted away from her face. Snape glanced up. As her cinnamon curls were blown upwards her amber eyes became clearly visible.
Hermione's head tilted slightly as obsidian met gold. Hermione watched her professor's eyes narrow and the corner of his mouth twitch. Her own impish grin tweaked upwards and her nose scrunched up at some hidden amusement that completely eluded her professor. And he wasn't sure, but he could have sworn her eyes had shimmered just a moment ago.
Shaking his head minutely he turned back to his work and Hermione took this opportunity to strike. Reaching her hand right under Snape's crooked nose she took a hold of the clock and turned it left. Snape stared hard at his displaced possession and gave Hermione a withering glare.
"Is there something that you need, Miss Granger?"
Hermione's lips pursed as she caught her professor's discreetly obsessive glances at his clock. "Actually, there is. I'm going to be leaving for a few days. In fact, I won't be able to attend today's class. I just came in to get the homework I'll be missing."
Snape set down his quill. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the parchment on top of the pile -- the one Snape was currently working on. Snape's miniscule writing covered the entire scroll making the bright red ink completely dwarf the messy black writing that the essay had originally been written in. Her gaze trailed up the parchment to the name etched at the top right corner. Neville Longbottom.
Oh dear...
"Leaving?" Snape inquired.
"Yes. I've already cleared everything with the Headmaster." She insisted quickly. "I'm going first to meet with the Ministry and then the first stage of my plan will begin."
"Stage?" The way Snape looked at her in mockery made her cheeks flush with wounded pride.
"Well...there's only one stage at the moment..."
Snape shook his head and muttered something that sounded distinctly like: "Gryffindors..."
"Don't you take that tone of voice with me, mister!" She reprimanded speaking to her aged professor as if he were no more than a babe. "There may only be one stage right now, but rest assured...I'll...think of something."
"Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the world's Champion," He scoffed sarcastically.
Hermione let out an overly exaggerated growl of annoyance, kicking her heels against the mahogany panels of Snape's desk. She looked back down in time to see Snape turn his clock back into its original position.
"And you think I have issues." She said with a laugh. "Don't think I didn't see that, sparky."
"Sparky?!" His face was incredulous.
Hermione laughed again, but this time it fell short of her usual boisterous personality. Severus Snape noticed this and cringed inwardly. He was uncomfortable with intimate conversations such as this and he knew he had problems interacting with other people. Digging himself into a deeper hole was not what he wanted to do here, but against his will he opened his mouth to speak.
"Is there something...bothering you?" Even to his own ears the question seemed thin and less heartfelt than he knew it should.
Hermione smiled softly, "Just some guy troubles. Nothing a Gryffindor Prefect such as myself can't handle."
Snape snorted in contempt but even though Hermione could sense her stodgy professor's discomfort she perceived a certain degree of concern in his eyes. Concern...for her? Severus Snape certainly was a complex man and Hermione knew she had barely begun to scratch the surface of said complexities. It would most definitely take some puzzling out. Hermione found herself looking forward to it.
"Look on the bright side, Hermione. If the world ends...it won't matter much, now will it?"
R & R!
Sorry it took so long, but I had work. I hope you like it! Off for a bubble bath give me some nice juicy reviews to look forward to.
Kiss This