Story Title: Wicked
Chapter Title: When The Brainless Aren't (4/?)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 - for sexual references and a tiny curse word
Warnings: Small bit of sexual reference, and the word "whore" Not that bad.
Author's Notes: I apologize that it took me so long to get this chapter up, but I have been spending a lot of time helping my aunt, without any chance to get out of her house lately. I did just get a computer to use all of the time, and maybe able to update sooner within the next couple of weeks once it's all set up. I hope that you enjoy this chapter. It explains why Snape's office description is no canon, and reveals some of Catherine's personality. Oh! I also updated the original author's note to include why I changed the details that I did. Too many inquiries. . . -Danielle
-
I
angle the broom into a corner underneath an old potions table that is
pushed against the classroom's back wall. I try my best to keep my
eyes on the floor, so that they will not wander over to the jars
filled with dead animals and slimy liquids.
"I should
have left this work to someone else. Perhaps a snotty Slytherin,"
I mutter under my breath.
I can hear the fluid scratch of his
quill across parchment as he grades papers at the front of the
classroom. I know that on the surface, he pretending to outright
ignore me, but I am willing to plunk down serious Galleons in a bet
that says otherwise. Every hair on my body seems to have lifted away
from my skin, and taken on the persona of antennae. All of which,
were sending the same electronically-charged message to my brain, he
was, without a doubt, observing my every action.
I wonder if
this was a good sort of watching, and if any type of good observation
existed at all with the professor I knew.
I am certain that a
man such as Professor Snape, does things for a reason. Nothing he
would do would ever be said or done without thought, preparation, and
cause. So, what was he planning for me?
"Probably
thinking of different methods of punishing me further," I answer
my own question.
I gather all the collected dust in the center
of the room, and contemplate how to dispose of it. I briefly consider
asking for a dustpan, but remember that such a Muggle invention is
more than likely not to be on hand.
Before I can open my mouth
to ask what I should do with the results of my efforts, I hear him
cast a simple cleaning spell, and a flash of light shoots past me to
the dust pile..
I turn to thank him, but am waved
away.
"You're finished. Go back to your dormitory,"
he dismisses me without even looking away from the paper he is
grading.
What, no declarations of lust? No, congratulations on
all my hardwork? Part of me expects more after a whole evening of
work and scrutinization. I press my lips closed as I walk to the
classroom door.
"He's watching," I think satisfied
to myself. "That will make things easier for me."
-
I
straighten another pillow on Severus' couch before perching on the
edge of a cushion. Detention with the Ravenclaw twit should be over
soon. The audacity of the girl. She is but a child. What made her
believe that she could go about slamming my fiancee's door, and
mouthing off the way she did?
If it were up to me, she would
be doing more than cleaning a classroom and laboratory. The insolent
child would be given a shovel, and be made to clean up after Hagrid's
pets. Or better, sent into the Forbidden Forest with no chance of
return. That would teach her not to meddle in adult affairs. Little
twit.
I scoot back against the back of the couch, and pick up
my cup of tea off of the end table beside me. I focus my gaze on the
tray holding the teapot, Severus' teacup, along with the dressings of
a proper tea tray that awaits Severus' arrival on the antique coffee
table I bought at a Muggle auction house.
I regard the
biscuits with a hope that Severus will find them as delicious as I
do. I did go all the way to my favorite bakery in Muggle London to
purchase them. He should love them on principle alone.
I
strain my ears for any sounds of movement at the chambers'
door.
"Honestly! How long does it take to punish one itty
bitty wayward child?!" I ask the empty room aloud.
I hear
the soothing tones of his voice before I sense his presense, "Too
long."
I look up into his dark eyes with something akin
to true affection that grew from the faklse, planned love I started
this relationship with.
"Especially if it keeps me away
from you," I tell him as I smile beguilingly.
"Especially
then. Am I correct in my belief that you managed to keep yourself
occupied? Rearranging more of my quarters," his breath catches
in his throat, and he looks into my eyes searchingly. ". . . our
quarters."
I squint playfully and wring a girlish giggle
from my throat, "You know it. I believe that I did an excellent
job rearranging your office for you. I do not see why I should not
clear out more of the icky clutter you were so fond of
collecting."
"Were fond of collecting? No, my
dear, am fond of collecting. I have no intention of ridding
myself of all my sentimental trinkets."
"Sentimental
trinkets? Severus, in no form if reality would I call old dead things
floating in jars, or Dark spell books, or even those disgusting
potion ingredients "sentimental trinkets". Are you trying
to tell me that you hate the decorating I did in your office?"
I
harden my features and pretend to be genuienely upset over his
opinion of my decorative skills. I watch him soften his expression to
one of adoration, and feel his mind search mine for any reciprocal
emotion. I project carefully crafted feelings of love, admiration,
and disappointment on cue. I was not handpicked my true lover without
him knowing he had choosen the absolute best for the task.
Severus
walks over to the couch, and sits next to me, taking my hands in his,
as he has a practice of doing when we are alone, "Of course I
appreciate your instinct for decor, but you cannot go about changing
everything I own."
I flutter my lashes and poke out my
bottom lip, "I suppose that you are correct as always, Severus.
I was only hoping to make this place more hospitable to a woman's
taste if I am to live here. Even you must admit that this old castle
is depressing and drafty, especially the dungeons. The whole place
requires a woman's love and patience to mold it into any kind of a
cozy and acceptable home."
I rub my knee against his
thigh, and my heart sparks in self-satisfaction. I am all too pleased
with my rapid progress in the accelerating descent of Severus' highly
guarded distrust of others. I pull my lips further apart into a wider
grin, "That mistrust was there with good reason. It is a shame
it will be too late when Severus discovers the knowledge of how he
should not have trusted me as he did. How. . . tragic."
I
curl up to him, and inch my way into his lap. I purr my most
seductive helpless kitten in need if love impression full force. He
loves it when a woman begs. But then, he also loves it when I am tied
to his bed, so, a bit of staged begging could hardly be seen as
totally pathetic, when it is merely a tool to feed the agenda, and
gain me access the marvelous side benefits Severus is always all too
happy to part take in.
"Mmmm. . . "
I tuck my
face into his neck to feel the moan vibrate his vocal cords. There is
something about the vibrations of Severus' body that has always
driven me to arousal within moments.
"Some women may find
him repulsive, but the stupid whores don't know what they have
allowed to get away. Luckily, I am not among them, as I would be if
it were not due to the current situation," I think happily.
"I
take it that you were waiting up for me?" he shifts his body so
that he may look into my sapphire eyes.
"Naturally. I
thought of retiring early, but I thought better of it. I knew that
you would be tense after having to deal with that. . . that. . .
student, so, I wanted to assist you in easing some of the
tension and annoyance away. Why, are you not pleased? I only wish to
make you happy," I respond to the same ritualistic question he
asks me everytime he stays out late on business with the proper
adoring answer.
"I am always pleased by your desire to
assist me by any means you deem fit," he tell me while pulling
my lower half flush against his so that I am straddled across his lap
and facing him nose-to-nose.
I raise a perfectly arched
eyebrow at him before setting my tea cup back down on the end table
and pressing my lips to his.
"No," I plot to myself.
"he will not see what is to come until it is too late to break
the berth of the storm."
I push Severus to lie back upon
the couch, and the tea tray remains on the coffee table
forgotten.
-
I can feel my heart pounding fearfully in
my chest. I slam my trainers down on the paved walkway that crosses
an open courtyard. I rush into the castle, anxious to get out of the
unusually empty corridors.
"Gods! Where is everyone??"
I scream to the abandoned hallway.
I round another corner,
frantic to reach Ravenclaw Tower.
"They're coming!"
a voice unseen shouts at me.
My eyes jump from wall to wall in
search of the tower's entrance. My breaths are hitching in panicked
gasps. I can't find the door!
My mind clogs with fear when I
realize that no part of my surroundings look familiar to me.
I
can feel pricks of terror stabbing at me in a manner which I can only
identify as foreboding.
I can feel my enemies closing in on
me. Daylight outside the hall's open windows has magically
transformed into Night. That same foreboding instinct insists that it
is an omen of what is coming for me.
I somehow make my way to
the entrance hall, and burst into the Great Hall in hopes of finding
some type of help there. The fact that no one is anywhere near the
Hall doesn't surprise me. I have been runing the entire length of the
school without coming across a single living, or deceased,
being.
Suddenly, Enchanted Candles flicker on high above me
close to the bewitch ceiling, which shows a black sky with no stars
or moon shining out of the darkness.
Loud, slow music blasts
from every corner of the room at me, and shadows begin their dance. I
have stumbled into a party.
A deep, rumbling voice is saying
something too low for me to make out. I strain my ears, and it is
then that I hear it clearly.
"Hermione. . . . Hermione. .
. . You will come to me. Hermione. . . . "
I hear no more
of the threatening words when I gasp and clutch my chest as I awake
without pretense.
"Hermione," a comforting, worried
voice calls my name, this time from inside my dormitory room.
"Wh.
. .what?" I mutter in my sleep-beaten stupor.
"Hogwarts
to Hermione. I've been calling you for 10 minutes already, which is
fully astonishing to me, since, you are usually the first one up. You
will be late for breakfast if you don't hurry," Olivia Johns
eyes me suspiciously. "Is something the matter?"
"Uhmm,
no." I shake my head quickly and toss my covers away.
"Well,
you were moaning in your sleep. Anything interesting," Cho
wiggles her eyebrows at me.
I cringe inside when the other
three girls joined in.
"Like you wouldn't believe,"
I mumble as I tie on my bathrobe to head to the restroom to relieve
myself.
As I walk to the door, I ignore the taunts and
inquiries of my roommates. I walk toward the restroom and sort
through the images I saw.
That dream felt more real than
anything I had ever felt. It must have been some kind of warning, a
premonition.
I am not conviced that the dream is not simply a
meaningless dream, and I make a mental note to ask Harry about dreams
which contain solid clues. After all, he did have all those dreams
about Voldemort's plans, and he always seems to have a better
understanding of things than everyone else.
I lock the stall
door behind me after I squeeze into the cramped space, "Yes, I
will find out what that dream means, even if it kills me."
-
TBC