Title: Intruding Romantic
Author Name: Astrea Von Hurston
Category: Romance
Sub Category: None
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Relationship: HG/SS
Chapter Summary: Hermione is assaulted by her own lust, struggles the wrath of hormones, discovers Ginny is as paranoid as her own mother, and that Snape isn't as ugly as she thought.
Disclaimer: None of it is mine, and neither is Alan Rickman which is an absolute pity.
Author's Note: Thanks for all of the wonderful and helpful reviews. And I apologize about the wait, writing has been so hard for me lately.
"You got a detention?" Ron asked incredulously as the trio sat around the fire, each clutching mugs of steaming tea that Dobby had brought them.
"Yes," Hermione sighed, setting her cup aside and leaning her head against the back of the armchair she sat in.
The crackling fire in the hearth lit up her pale face, hazel eyes dulled by the shock of what had happened earlier that night. She glanced toward Harry who was staring into the dancing flames, normally bright green eyes dark and his face brooding. She looked back to Ron, unable to stare at the young man that had replaced her best friend.
"Why didn't you explain to him that you were waiting for trespassers?" said Ron.
Hermione frowned and glanced down at the Head Girl badge pinned at the front of her robes. With a scoff she immediately lowered her face into her arms and began crying like a child who had just scraped their knee.
"I am such an idiot!" she sputtered in between sobs and gasps.
"Hermione," Ron moaned, obviously not good at easing an emotional woman, as he pat her on the back and looked to Harry for help.
Said man took a moment to regard them, sighed, and joined Ron in comforting the Head Girl.
After a few minutes of awkward patting, Hermione raised her tear-streaked face, round eyes red from all of her blubbering, and she allowed a small smile to grace her disheveled features.
"Thanks," she mumbled, conjuring a handkerchief and dabbing at her face with embarrassment.
"What was that?" Ron queried dramatically.
Hermione glared at him and sighed. "You were right. I acted like such a moron, acting as if I was in first year again and assuming that I had absolutely no excuse for having snuck out."
"What surprises us is that you actually snuck out," Harry spoke up as he got up from the couch beside his two friends and slumped back over to his armchair.
"I wanted to read," Hermione said.
"Well that certainly explains a lot," Ron chuckled. He stood up and grabbed Hermione by the arms, attempting to lift her up.
"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at her best friend.
"Getting you up," Ron grunted as he tugged harder at her arms. "So you can get to bed. Boy, you're heavy."
"I'm not heavy, Ron, I put a charm on my seat." Hermione snapped at him, pulling her arms out of his grasp and reaching into her robes for her wand.
"Now, why would you want to do that?" Harry questioned.
"Just in case," Hermione retorted, finally standing upright and brushing dust from her cloak.
"Just in-? Never mind, I don't want to know," Ron said, shaking his head as he pulled Hermione after him and steered her over to the staircase leading up to the girls' dormitories.
"Going up with me, Ron?" Hermione asked him with a smirk as they both stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Ron immediately backed away from her and shook his head with large eyes. He had apparently grown a fear of that very staircase after what had happened in their fifth and sixth year.
"Goodnight, 'Mione!" Harry called from the common room and Hermione sent the back of his head an unseen glare as she walked up the stairs.
"My name is Hermione," she told them with a shout before slamming the door of her dormitory shut.
Ron chuckled and walked back to his chair, "Hermione and her bloody hormones."
Hermione sighed sleepily, long curls spread out around her face as she turned over and sent a lazy smile toward the pillow that lay next to her head. Her eyes slowly flickered open and her grin turned into a frown as she stared at the empty (and had always been vacant) space before her.
It was odd. She did have her occasional dreams about boys, (for she was a girl and she had hormones) but she never spared them another thought. Either mostly out of embarrassment or annoyance at the fact that her mind had been off books for more than three hours. Yet, this one was definitely abnormal.
Perhaps, it was because she had been so frustrated the night before, thinking about the damned Potions Master as she fell asleep. And those angry thoughts had turned themselves into something else... a 'something else' that naturally frightened Hermione.
What was also weird was how when she had woken up, and found herself alone again, her heart had dropped like a brick to her abdomen and she had felt a fleeting moment of depression.
She used her elbows to prop herself up in bed, the sheets that had covered her torso falling to her waist as she gazed around, her deep maroon hangings blocking her view of the rest of the dormitory. She gave her head a quick shake and leaned to the right a bit, giving the thick curtains, that surrounded her bed, a swift tug, finding herself staring, once more that week, into the bright morning sun that grinned at her through the tower window.
Hermione groaned and threw her legs over the side of the bed, glancing down at the open book at her feet, which had most likely gotten itself thrown off the bed as she had tossed and turned that night. She stood up, stretched, and padded her way across the room, toes curling at the feel of the soft rug below.
"A normal day," Hermione told herself with a soft voice that cracked as she permitted a loud yawn to escape her throat. She stepped into the royally tiled shower (in the bathroom attached to her personal dormitory, because she was Head Girl, of course) and allowed an immediate stream of steaming water to fall down her back and through her hair. A few excess drops rolled down her milky white flesh as she rubbed her scalp thoroughly with her favorite shampoo.
A sigh of contempt was released as she flexed her fingers and began to shave her legs the simple and muggle way.
Suddenly, her thoughts flashed to the dream she had before she had awoken and a gasp escaped her lips.
"That was so wrong," she whispered to herself, clutching the razor in her hand painfully as she tried to get her mind back on track, the quick feeling of dizziness slowly evaporating.
Having a dream about her professor was bad enough, but thinking about him in that way, in the shower no less, was absolutely horrid! Gods, what had he done to her before she had left the Astronomy Tower to get her to act like a sick and demented girl from those old romance novels?
With a shuddering intake of breath, Hermione completed her shower and began the rest of her morning routines: drying her hair, styling it into curls (so as to not have any frizz tickling her chin as she tried to work during classes, which it always used to do), washing her face, and staring at herself in the mirror with an expression of determination.
With a sigh and a spit as she finished brushing her teeth, leaving them sparkling and white, she straightened her uniform and headed down the staircase with a smile and more than four books clutched in her arms.
"Hey, Hermione," Ron greeted drowsily from his seat near the common room entrance.
Harry, who was sitting beside Ron, had his head hanging to the side, eyes closed, and a look of peace evident on his face. It was unusual for Hermione to see Harry looking so blissful, but she knew she would have to break him out of his slumber as she walked forward and gave his shoulders a quick shake.
His eyes immediately opened and he stared at her inquisitively before his expression hardened and he glanced around at his two best friends.
"Sorry," he mumbled, getting out of his seat and brushing off his robes, running a hand over his chin to check for any excess drool that could have escaped as he napped.
"You're fine, Harry," Hermione said with a smile as she leaned forward and picked up the books that she had dropped on the floor.
"Thanks," he said, the corner of his lips twitching a bit in a grin before he sighed and lead them out the entrance.
Severus Snape leaned toward her over his desk, slender hands situated on the edge, as he stared at her with his glittering onyx eyes. She gasped as an immediate shiver worked its way down her spine and suddenly she felt herself lifted from the high-backed armchair she was sitting in and her lips connected to those of the Potions Master.
A sudden intake of breath was heard from Hermione as they entered the Great Hall. It seemed that a part of the dream had come back to her, as her eyes had fallen upon the sneering professor.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron looked at her with curiosity.
"Yes," Hermione breathed with closed eyes, following the two with hesitant footsteps as they neared their seats at the Gryffindor table. She sat down and ran a small hand through her hair.
"What do we have today?" Hermione inquired with a feigned look of curiosity.
"Usually you're telling us, Hermione. We have Potions, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry retorted, staring at her suspiciously.
"Oh," Hermione blushed crimson as she lowered her face. "Sorry, I have been so out of it lately."
"The detention?" Ron asked.
Partly, Hermione responded mentally as she inclined her head in a nod. "Exactly."
"At least you don't have Occlumency with him," Harry sighed, using his spoon to tap the side of his plate in small "clanks".
"That dreadful man looking into my mind is not something I would like to imagine, Harry," Hermione replied with a small grimace.
"Sorry," he shrugged, shoving a piece of burnt toast into his mouth.
I long for his touch, I have absolutely no idea why, but I do.
Hermione choked on her glass of pumpkin juice and immediately grabbed her napkin as she spat it out, covering her mouth with at least some decency.
"What the hell was that?" she hissed at herself as she lowered the white cloth and began to dab at her chin self-consciously.
"Hermione?" said Ron, staring at her with eyebrows raised as he absently buttered his eggs.
"I need to think," Hermione said briskly, standing up from the table, grabbing her books, and striding out of the Great Hall.
Her destination: the library. A perfect atmosphere for when she is most anxious or stressed.
Hermione curled up in a large armchair and reached out a hand toward the shelves, picking up a random book and flipping to a random page.
It's odd, she thought, biting down on her bottom lip. It simply cannot be normal for a girl to start thinking of a young man that way at such a speed, and her professor!
She immediately sighed at her own criticism and bowed her head, leaning it into the pages of the book and causing them to crackle from the pressure of her temple. A few curls fell into her eyes.
"So unbelievably confusing," she growled, pulling her head back and letting it fall on her own shoulder as she continued to ponder.
You didn't hate Professor Snape in the first place, you just disliked the way he treated you and your peers. Did you not stick up for him at certain moments?
"Damn voice," Hermione groaned, picking herself up and putting the book away, she took a moment to pull her hair back in a loose bun.
"You best get to class, Dear," Madam Pince called from her desk, eyes locked on a book that looked quite old with its yellow pages and tearing spine.
"Good idea," Hermione frowned, gathering up her textbooks and exiting the library with a low head and an absent look on her face.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger!" Snape barked as he strode over to Neville's cauldron which was bubbling and slowly overflowing. Hermione presumed that this may have been caused by the young man's awfully jumpy attitude that day.
He had been doing so well for the past two year, this was his first mistake since their fifth year.
"Why?" Hermione asked indifferently, then covered her mouth in shock at her disrespectful retort.
"Because, Miss Granger, if you had not been acting like such a showoff, Longbottom would not have made that much a fool of himself."
Hermione's hand dropped to her desk, followed by her jaw. She was appalled. Two years ago she had gotten in trouble for trying to prevent him from exploding his cauldron, and now she had to whisper answers in his ear!
Then, there was the fact that she had been on the opposite side of the room from Neville. Professor Snape's unfairness had reached beyond its limit. She waited at her desk for him to pass by, as to not attract attention from the class, and when he did, she boldly grabbed his arm.
"Sir, please, I would have had to cross the room to aid Neville, must points really be taken away?" Hermione asked in a nearly pleading tone.
"Miss Granger, would you like more detentions?"
Hermione retracted her arm, lowering her eyes, cheeks turning a light shade of pink at her actions. "No, sir. I apologize."
"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Miss Granger."
There were no further conversations, and she was thankful. She feared that she would have either ended up strangling him, turning into a radish due to her constant embarrassment, or (the worse) snogging him senseless. She absently shuddered and emptied her cauldron as class ended.
Harry and Ron sat on both sides of her, one stuffing his face while the other leaned against the palm of his hand, tapping the end of his fork on the china plate before him.
Hermione cringed at the racket made as she placed a slender finger over the text of the book she had been reading, and looked over at him.
"Harry, could you please not do that," she asked pleadingly.
He stopped, in a frustrated manner, and stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he brushed past them.
"I'm going to the common room," was all the young man muttered before exiting the Great Hall, followed by the gaping stares of his two friends.
"What did you do?" Ron turned to her with an accusing glare.
"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed, standing as well, "I'll go talk to him."
"No, I will," Ron replied and followed his best friend, leaving the young woman to her own thoughts.
She sighed, glancing toward the Head table, and baffling enough, Professor Snape. He was seated beside the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, sipping from his goblet occasionally, and in that one rare moment, actually licking his lips.
"Like a human being," Hermione whispered unknowingly to herself. And so sensually, her thoughts added.
She shook her head and turned away, just as he caught her staring, grabbing her book and bag and exiting the Great Hall as fast as her feet could carry her.
In that moment of panic, she did not pay attention to what corner she turned, or what stairs she descended. All that mattered was that she got over this sick and brand new obsession and got some fresh air.
Unfortunately, when one stands outside the Potions classroom, it is hard to retrieve the oxygen one so dearly needs.
Hermione growled in frustration, turning away from the dark and rotting door, and finding her view clouded by black as soon as she faced the rest of the corridor. Looking up, slowly and fearfully, her eyes connected with an even darker obsidian gaze.
It was Professor Snape. Oh, cruel world.
"Miss Granger, may I ask why you are standing in front of my door, and looking as lost as Longbottom," he hissed, his sweet warm breath brushing along her cheekbones and making her sigh with contempt.
"I-I am sorry, sir. I was wandering without a purpose and..."
She didn't dare continue, cursing herself mentally for having lost her ability to speak properly.
"Then you should be off, the other two-thirds of the Dream Team are expecting you," Snape retorted, in his cruel, low, and silky voice.
"Yes, sir," Hermione said, blushing furiously as she pushed past him, pulling her skirt down from her thighs to her knees self-consciously.
She felt his onyx eyes on her back as she turned the corner and headed up the stairs to Entrance Hall, sinking to her knees as she reached the nearest suit of armor, brain wracked with the dreams he obliviously brought up from the night before.
The thought of him at night made the blood rush to various parts of her body, but as she met him in person, afterwards, it just got worse. Not even the cruelest of his words stung as much as they had.
Footsteps appeared behind Hermione, and she turned frantically, her suspicious gaze met by the petite young Ginny Weasley. Oddly enough, the woman was playing with her breasts, lifting one, then the other as if testing something. She looked thoughtful.
"Ginny, what in the bloody hell are you doing?"
The young woman jumped in surprise, before sighing in relief as she noticed the other witch sitting in a corner, arms crossed over her bare and pale legs.
"Oh, you scared me," Ginny breathed, plopping down beside her and pulling her long wavy red hair out of its high ponytail.
"I could say the same myself, what were you doing?" Hermione asked, pushing her curls out of her face as she looked at the freckled sixteen-year-old beside her.
"Mum's got me paranoid about breast cancer, it seems some article in Witch Weekly has brought it out of her and she has been asking me to examine my boobs for weeks," Ginny explained, motioning to said parts of her body dramatically with long hands.
"I see, well, if you have already checked, I doubt a tumor could pop up in the hour between those examinations of yours," Hermione said, smiling and relieved to have her thoughts pulled away from Snape for at least a minute.
"I told her that, but she's as panicked as Neville was at the Yule Ball," Ginny replied.
"Then, I sympathize. What else have you been up to? Me, Harry, and Ron haven't seen you for days," she stated.
The redhead blushed as the name of the dark-haired young man was mentioned, before clearing her throat noisily. "I've been, uh, seeing Seamus."
"Seamus Finnigan? Ginny, you've gone a bit crazy with this 'Getting-Over-Harry-Plan'," Hermione sighed, setting her hand on the other girl's.
"I know," Ginny moaned, lowering her head in defeat. "I mean, I thought dating nearly the entire male population of Hogwarts would help, with the exception of Slytherin, but it hasn't. Every time I kiss Seamus, Zacharias, or someone else, I always think of Harry."
"That can be bad," Hermione retorted, thinking of her own situation bitterly.
"I know, I mean, what if I'm having sex and I say the wrong name?" Ginny said, and at this she gasped melodramatically.
"Ginny, you haven't-"
"I'm still a virgin, Hermione, you know I would tell you if I ever crossed that line."
"Well, with your current streak..."
"Hey!" Ginny laughed, giving Hermione a playful smack on the thigh as she shook her head. "I may be a supposed 'player', but I'm not a slut."
Hermione leaned her head against the wall and smiled faintly.
"Oh, I have been so inconsiderate. How's your love life?"
"Ginny, you know I haven't had one since Viktor. Relationships get in the way of my studies, and you know how I get when my books are taken away," Hermione grinned.
"You're a wild animal," Ginny growled, giggling. She then became serious once more and looked her friend over. "Are you sure you aren't just lusting after someone or something?"
"Life isn't always about sex, Ginny," Hermione replied, disapprovingly.
"But, you told me yourself your slumber has allowed some 'dreams' to slip by, any of them caught your interest?"
Hermione turned to Ginny, gaping. How close the girl was to the truth, but she knew this secret had to be kept inside, or else she would truly admit her horrible fate.
"Just tell me it isn't one of my brothers," Ginny grimaced.
"No," Hermione said.
"Thank the gods," Ginny exclaimed, leaning her head back as well and looking up into the high ceiling. She glanced back at the brunette, and spoke again, "So, who is it?"
"It's complicated," Hermione answered, watching as a Slytherin fourth year passed by, leering at them shamelessly.
The bookworm supposed that Ginny either didn't notice, didn't mind, or enjoyed the attention, but she wrapped her cloak tighter around her own small body.
"Nothing's too complicated," Ginny reasoned illogically.
"You say that now," Hermione muttered.
"Come on, Hermione, I promise I won't tell anyone," Ginny pleaded, making herself appear taller by getting on her knees, though that wasn't needed.
"Tell anyone what?" And then arrived the most unwanted person at that very moment.
The two girls looked up into the sneering face of Draco Malfoy, and he looked gleeful, which was saying something.