- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Schnoogle
- Characters:
- Hermione Granger Severus Snape
- Genres:
- General Romance
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
- Stats:
-
Published: 10/03/2003Updated: 10/17/2003Words: 94,798Chapters: 20Hits: 77,297
Ordinary People
Hayseed
- Story Summary:
- How do ordinary people cope with their extraordinary circumstances? A SS/HG romance that strives for realism.
Chapter 11
- Chapter Summary:
- How do ordinary people cope with their extraordinary circumstances? A SS/HG romance that strives for realism
- Posted:
- 10/11/2003
- Hits:
- 3,431
Indeed there will be time---
Life continued, just as Hermione had suspected it would. Nights in the lab, wee morning hours translating, sniping and apologies. They'd even put together another paper and sent it off to Edoras at MRL, detailing their experimental findings. Their first collaboration was due out in less than two weeks, in the March edition.
Hermione found herself already nervous over its reception. While confident that their theories were indubitably correct, she knew that there would be inevitable backlash from the academic community over such new and groundbreaking ideas. It was asking for approaching the problem from a completely different mindset, and that was difficult to ask of anyone, much less a group of wizards so convinced of their personal infallibility that it took them over one hundred fifty years to admit that the Muggles were correct and phlogiston did not, in fact, exist.
Maybe no one would send her a Howler. That was the best she could hope.
Therein laid the problem with research, she reflected inwardly. When you were in the middle of it, in love with your theory, the whole cosmos seemed to be in support of your ideas. But then you wrote the paper, sent it off, and the doubts started snowballing. Suddenly, you'd recall misplaced operators in equations, incorrect error margins, and a whole slew of other mistakes. What was, three months ago, the best idea in the world, suddenly became sheer lunacy. Actual publication only trebled those fears as the unanswerable questions and scathing rebuttals began arriving.
At the moment, Hermione could not envision a more hellacious emotional roller coaster. Except for, perhaps, love. Yes ... that was definitely worse. Or better, depending on how she looked at it.
Worse were those horrible moments of uncertainty when she wasn't exactly sure what to do. The times when every slight movement Severus made grated on her nerves and made her want to scream. Or when the insults they always casually tossed at each other began to sound genuine instead of playful.
Fortunately, worse was at least equally balanced by better and quite possibly over-balanced. Their hesitant goodnight kiss had evolved into a little ritual at the end of every evening, and when they were in Severus' office working instead of the laboratory, they generally found themselves side-by-side, shoulders barely touching in a camaraderie that Hermione would not have guessed them capable of six weeks ago.
And then, of course, there were the best times.
The first time she'd timidly tilted her head to rest against his thigh as she was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, reading. Severus, ensconced in one of the wing-backed chairs and reviewing his research notes, had given her a surprised look but said nothing. Scant minutes later, she felt a gentle hand in her hair, stroking lightly, and settled into him more firmly.
Sometimes, though, their best times were not nearly as picture perfect. Hermione had laughed out of sheer delight the first time Severus had randomly cornered her and kissed her until her toes curled. Misinterpreting her response, Severus spent more than half an hour stammering apologies through her continual reassurances that no, she wasn't laughing at him, she was laughing because of him. Fortunately, though, he'd finally relented, and now Hermione suspected he continued to surprise her with kisses specifically in order to make her laugh.
But she shouldn't be thinking about such things right now. Now she was supposed to be thinking about research. With no small degree of effort, Hermione pulled her thoughts back to the matter at hand, trying to focus on the notes Severus was attempting to draw her attention to.
"I think that brings the number of 'magic' cells in the initial sample up to fifty-eight," Severus said, tapping a notation on his parchment.
"Fifty-eight out of thousands," she replied thoughtfully. "And you're no Squib."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "I think."
"That's not what I mean, you idiotic ass, and you know it," Hermione said with a sigh. "Just consider, we've only found fifty-eight cells out of, well, a whole damn lot, and you're a pretty powerful wizard, as wizards go. What I'm trying to say is that it's no small wonder it took us so long to find anything."
"It feels like there's magic everywhere, but in reality, there's not," Severus continued, completing the thought.
"Exactly. So imagine what a small, artificial concentration of those cells could do," Hermione said.
He froze. "It could be as devastating as the Muggles' nuclear weaponry."
"At least," she agreed, nodding. "So, how do you feel, Dr. Oppenheimer?"
Severus gave her a wicked grin she was coming to adore. "I wasn't under the impression that I was in charge of the project, Hermione. I'm more of a worker bee."
She snorted. "Worker bee, my ass."
"Goodness, Miss Granger. We seem to be particularly profane this evening. Pray, do you kiss your mother with that mouth of yours?"
Hermione returned his grin. "No, I rather thought I'd kiss you."
"Only thought?" Severus hummed, sidling closer to her stool.
"I didn't want to presume ..." she murmured as his lips grazed hers.
"Miss Granger, you may always presume in matters such as these," he replied, kissing her again. "And no others," he said once their lips parted.
Laughing, she pushed him away. "We should work," she said.
"We should, shouldn't we?" he asked, nodding.
"Of course," she began, "we could always quit early ..."
"We could," he agreed. "But I'm sure you'll change your mind if you find something interesting."
"So would you," Hermione replied shortly, turning back to her scope.
Severus sighed. "Back to work, then. Of course, I admit, I'm a bit curious to find some 'magic' cells in your blood samples. Make sure we're all Gryffindor wizards and all."
"You're just afraid the Sorting Hat misplaced you when you were a boy and the headmaster will find out about it," she retorted, adjusting the eyepiece so she could see the slide more clearly.
"You know, Hermione, you really are a brat sometimes," he groused.
She fiddled minutely with the slide. "Ah, you know you love me anyway, Severus," she said distractedly.
Hermione very nearly missed his whispered, "Indeed I do." As it was, she reeled backward in her seat, forgetting she was perched on a backless stool and promptly toppled to the floor, arms flailing wildly. Her head hit the stones with an audible crack.
Severus was beside her in an instant, warm hands on her cheeks, in her hair. She realized with a start that he was checking for blood. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I will be eventually," she muttered, dazed from both the fall and his admission. "And I think I'd like you to repeat what you said before."
He looked uncomfortable. "I called you a brat."
Hermione let her eyes slip shut. "No, Severus, after that. And right before I demonstrated that I am in great need of 'Sitting On a Stool Properly' lessons."
"I believe that I told you that I love you," he said quietly, evenly, hands stilling in her hair.
"That's what I thought you said," she replied just as quietly, opening her eyes again so that she could look into his. "And my proper response should be: I think I love you, too."
Severus' hands were gentle as they moved to her shoulders. "You think?" he prompted carefully.
Hermione shrugged a bit, wishing she were off the infernal floor. "I've never been in love before, Severus. I'm not entirely sure what it entails. Now, let me get up. These dratted stones are digging into my spine."
"Do you think you're concussed?" he asked, hovering nervously over her as she sat up and then stood up. "Should I take you to Poppy?"
"I'm fine," she replied. "And I think I might want to discuss that 'love' thing a bit more. Perhaps our research can wait a little while."
"I hope to Merlin that I don't ever propose to you," he said suddenly, startling her with the non-sequitur.
"What?" she asked, staggering a bit as she reached her feet.
Instantly his arms were around her waist, anchoring her firmly. "Well, think about it. I tell you you're beautiful and you burst into raving hysterics. I tell you I love you and you nearly concuss yourself. I think if I ever proposed, something might happen that involved your gruesome demise."
Hermione laughed, wincing a bit as it rattled around in her brain. "I'll go ahead and start mentally preparing myself for that scenario, just in case."
The arms tightened. "And you're sure that--"
She interrupted him. "Severus, like I said, I'm fine. My name is Hermione Granger, Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts, where I'm a seventh year student. I'm in Gryffindor House, and you hate my best friends. See? No concussion."
"I never said I hate your friends," he replied uncomfortably. "Although I should admit that they aren't anywhere near my list of favorite people."
"If I understand you correctly, Severus, your list of favorite people might have two or three people on it. That is, if Dumbledore hasn't mortally offended you on the day you're composing said list," she retorted.
"It should probably bother me that you didn't make me angry when you said that just now," Severus said, releasing his death grip on her torso.
She kissed his lips softly. "They do say love is blind, you know."
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"All right," Ron cried as he emerged from the portrait hole. "It took us nearly a month, but Harry and I have a foolproof plan for determining one Miss Granger's secret love interest."
Hermione glanced up from her Charms essay. Oh well, she'd been looking for a distraction--this appeared to be promising. "Foolproof, eh?" she asked wryly.
Ron grinned. "I'm not going to reveal the full details of said plan until Harry gets here, so you can just sit on it, miss."
Rolling her eyes, she turned back to her work. If she finished this essay tonight, she could spend the entirety of tomorrow evening translating Iustus while Severus was on rounds.
Not ten minutes later, Harry came through the entrance himself, holding a thick sheaf of parchment and grinning as if he'd just won the Quidditch Cup singlehandedly. "Got it," he told Ron. "Although Neville says he's never speaking to us again."
"Aw, he always says that when we ask him for a favor," Ron replied with a flap of his hand.
"What did you two do to Neville this time?" Hermione asked exasperatedly, dropping her quill and turning in her chair to look disapprovingly at him. "He's a prefect, you know, and he won't hesitate to turn you in."
"It wasn't anything illegal," Harry said. "All we needed was a list of current Hogwarts students. But Neville had to do some fast talking to convince McGonagall that he needed it and it took us three weeks to even convince him to go to her in the first place."
She was drawing a blank. "How is a list of students going to help you?" she asked, baffled.
Ron's grin widened and he took the list from Harry. "That's the brilliance of our plan, love. We figure you'll be bound to react when you hear Mr. Wonderful's name. And besides ... you never gave us a limited number of guesses when you promised to do our essays for us. We're taking full advantage."
Hermione bit back a laugh with considerable effort. This was either going to be hilarious or disastrous. Waving at two nearby empty chairs, she schooled her face into a nonchalant gaze. "Go right ahead."
Exchanging twin looks of glee, Ron and Harry seated themselves and began shuffling through parchment. "We'll go ahead and throw out the first through third years," Ron said. "We've already learned that Hermione doesn't fancy little boys."
She made a face at him but stayed silent.
"Wait, though," Harry said. "Maybe she just said that to throw us off the scent."
Ron squinted at Hermione, who was contriving to look very innocent. "Right," he said sternly. "We'll read off all the names."
Folding her arms over her chest, she tilted back in her chair, smiling serenely. "Go on with it, then."
"First years ..." Harry read off of the top sheet. "Peter Alexander ... no? Andrew Carson. Apollo Early. Apollo--what sort of name is Apollo?"
"Greek. Keep reading," she replied, tucking a loose bit of hair back behind one ear.
"I know it's Greek," he said, mocking her in a falsetto. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Fergus Marsden."
They went through the first four years of Hogwarts' male students quite quickly. Apparently Harry and Ron didn't really believe she'd go out with a 'little boy' either. But as the names began belonging to older students, they read more slowly, trying to gauge her reaction.
"This is stupid," Hermione finally said. "By now I've had time to steel myself against the name, anyway."
"Ooh ... must be getting close, then," Ron said, tapping his parchment. "Sixth years, now. Colin Creevey--that would be a resounding no. Derek O'Leary? No, huh?"
Slowly, they read through the rest of their lists, Hermione laughing outright as Ron painfully suggested Crabbe (he skipped over Goyle, probably afraid of her reaction). "This is impossible," Harry exclaimed. "We've said the name of every guy here and she didn't even flutter an eyelid."
"That leaves us with only two possibilities," Ron announced, dropping his list and regarding Hermione carefully. "Either one, our Hermione has vastly improved her powers of deception as of late and is successfully fooling us or two ..." he trailed off dramatically.
Even Hermione was curious to hear what he'd managed to come up with. "What?"
"It's an older guy," he said in a hushed voice.
Willing herself to sit still and not blink, Hermione cocked her head at him. "What makes you say that?" she asked slowly, steadily. I will not panic, she told herself.
Ron grinned. "Someone you met in Hogsmeade, eh? Don't worry ... we won't tell. Did he go to Hogwarts? Would we know him?"
She let out the breath she'd been holding in with a whooshing sigh. "Ro-on!" she cried, more relieved than exasperated.
Frowning, he leaned in closely and squinted at her. "But I know you, Hermione. Unless we've got a name, you won't give us the bet. And I don't fancy reading out the entire list of men that have ever attended Hogwarts."
"I think you could safely disregard the dead ones," she said dryly, grateful that he was veering even further off-course.
He looked over at Harry. "So we've got to come up with a name," he said heavily.
Harry grinned secretively. "Oh, I know how to do that."
"Harry, your last plan failed miserably," Ron told him with a smirk.
"It did not," he retorted, indignant. "We found out it's someone in Hogsmeade, didn't we?"
"Actually, she never confirmed that," Ron said thoughtfully, looking over at a carefully blank Hermione. "And besides, she still could be lying about it not being a student."
Smugly, Harry's grin widened. "Doesn't matter. My plan will work in any case."
Confusion was apparent on Ron's face, but then Harry mouthed something to his friend that Hermione didn't catch, and he relaxed. "Oh," Ron said knowingly.
Looking back and forth between the boys, Hermione's mind worked furiously. What were they up to now? Something that would tell them who it was without her input? How could they possibly ...
And she had it. The Marauder's Map.
Instantly, Hermione was furious. Teasing her was one thing; invading her privacy was quite another. "If either of you think about using Harry's map to track me, I swear I'll ... I'll turn you in to Filch!" she said in a low, angry voice.
Harry looked stunned, but Ron was attempting to appear innocent. "Hermione," he began placatingly, "we would never--"
"Did you or did you not just mouth the word 'map' to Ron just now?" she accused Harry. He nodded meekly. "Right. Now look here, both of you. I don't care if you spend all of your spare time guessing what I'm up to, but I won't let you invade my privacy like that. That's like ... like using your Invisibility Cloak to sneak into the girls' showers."
"Bloody hell, why didn't we ever ...?" Ron began, but a sharp jab in the ribs from Harry's elbow shut him up effectively.
Hermione stood up in order to look down at her friends as menacingly as possible. "I want you both to swear that you won't abuse the Map that way."
"But, Hermione--"
Pinning Harry with a glare, she watched his mouth snap shut with some satisfaction. "Swear it!"
"I swear," they both repeated grudgingly, heads nodding a bit.
She relaxed and sat back down. "Good. And besides, if I'm sneaking off to Hogsmeade, that wouldn't be on the map, now would it?"
Brightening, Ron sat up a bit. "So you admit it ... it is an older fellow?"
"I admit nothing," she retorted. "You two have got to figure this one out on your own."
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Harry and Ron continued to pester her for details concerning her "Mystery Lover," as Ron had dubbed him, but Hermione was able to mostly ignore it. Thus far, they weren't anywhere near suspecting Severus, still focused on the Hogsmeade idea. Preferring to keep it that way, Hermione permitted herself secretive smiles as they speculated but remained firmly silent, hoping that they'd eventually get tired of her silence.
However, ten days had already passed since the incident with the student list, and they showed no signs of relenting. Fortunately, they were busy enough with classes and Quidditch that they didn't have enough time to keep it up for extended periods of time. And what's more, it was the beginning of March. NEWTs were a scant few months away, and everyone was starting to study. Hermione had even spied Ron at lunch one day with an open textbook propped against the pumpkin juice jug.
The beginning of March not only marked the opening of the season of student exam panic, but it also brought an owl to Hermione's table one morning bearing a copy of the newest issue of MRL with "Manifestations of Magical Energy in a Single Individual: A Biochemical Analysis" by the newest academic wunderkinds H.G. and S.S.
She'd been so excited that she'd actually forgotten herself and grinned up at Severus, who was sitting at the head table, as she was breaking the seal. His startled look had been genuine and fortunately, no one had caught the look passing between them. If Ron or Harry had noticed, they hadn't managed to consider it a puzzle piece in their little "Who's Hermione Seeing?" game.
And really, why would they? There was nothing in their minds to connect her and Severus outside of Potions class. No one had any way of knowing that Hermione spent more than half of her evenings and nights in his company. And they certainly didn't suspect that she knew exactly what his teeth felt like against her earlobe. She wondered briefly what everyone would think if they knew but backtracked hastily from that thought, unwilling to consider the possibilities.
With a great deal of effort, Hermione managed to focus her eyes firmly on the textbook in front of her, dragging her mind away from more inviting thoughts and back to the subject at hand. She had promised herself that she'd start studying for the NEWTs today and was attempting to struggle through her old fifth-year Arithmancy text but she was having a dreadful time focusing.
On top of her normal distractions, last night Severus had given her an owl he'd received the day before from a witch named Agnes Schmidt concerning a very technical point in the field theory they'd been working on previous to their biochemical work, and Hermione had been mentally composing a response the entire day. Equations very definitely not of the Arithmancy sort were currently dancing through her mind. And Severus wouldn't help her with it besides--he claimed he wasn't any good at Muggle math, that he kept getting hopelessly tangled in the notation.
She was drifting from her textbook again. Hermione forced herself to concentrate, only to find her thoughts veering off in another direction completely. She slammed the book shut with a growl.
"May I enquire as to the source of your distress?" a male voice asked into the empty room.
Hermione jumped. She'd been lying on her bed in her dormitory as she made her half-hearted attempt to review. Lavender and Parvati were off goodness-knows-where and supper was at least two hours off. And now imaginary voices were talking to her. "Who's there?" she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.
"If you have to ask, I should leave," the voice drawled.
"Severus?" She was disbelieving and excited all at the same time.
"In the flesh, Hermione," he replied. "Reveal!"
The Concealment Charm faded, leaving Severus standing beside her bed with a smirk, wearing casual clothing, making her suspect he had spent the afternoon in the lab.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised at his sudden arrival. "Have you lost your mind, Severus?"
"Well, you told me last night that you were planning to take the afternoon and study for those deplorable exams," he said, apparently prepared to ignore her last question. "And you know as well as I that you could have passed them with flying colors two years ago at least. So the likelihood of you actually needing to open a book any time more than a week before the actual tests is highly questionable. I am, therefore, here to distract you with pleasurable possibilities." He completed this neat little speech with a very nearly comical wiggle of the eyebrows that sent her spiraling back into shock. He wanted to play?
"Are you telling me that you've come up here, to my dormitory, because you fancy a snog?" she asked, amazed. Something else occurred to her. "How did you get in here, anyway?"
He sat down on the bed beside her. "First of all, I do not 'snog,' as you so inelegantly put it, and second of all, I am a professor. The rules that apply to your stupid little Gryffindor boys do not apply to me."
Hermione ignored his first statement. "Nearly anyone can just walk in, you know" she said. But her resolve was melting as his hands curled around her shoulders, fingers kneading.
"That makes it more interesting, you see," Severus said.
"And ... ooh ... I have to study!"
His lips skimmed the side of her neck. "As I said, my brilliant dear, bollocks to your studying."
"You know," she chided, gasping as his warm mouth slid further down her throat, "you're supposed to encourage my education."
"Not when I know what you're capable of, Hermione." He kissed her lips, finally, and the last vestiges of her willpower died a quick, painless death.
Her textbooks hit the floor with a thud as he pushed her down onto the bed, his tongue investigating her mouth with a pleasant thoroughness.
An idea forming hazily in her admittedly fuzzy consciousness, Hermione pulled a bit at his shirt, freeing the tails from his trousers. Smiling against his mouth, she slid her hands under his shirt, enjoying his shudder as she encountered bare skin.
"Turnabout is fair play, you know," he muttered, trailing a hesitant finger along the neckline of her own blouse.
"Are you actually asking permission?" she asked incredulously but immediately regretted it as Severus pulled away slightly.
He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head fiercely, glaring.
"Don't you dare apologize," she said, putting one of her hands on his cheek.
"Actually," Severus began in a bland tone, "I was going to tell you to shut up."
"Oh," she replied, considering. "Well, that's all right, then." Pulling him back down to her, she resumed her previous explorations, shuddering a bit herself as Severus' hands began skimming up her sides, hesitating as his thumbs encountered the undersides of her breasts.
Hermione was beginning to wonder exactly how one went about taking off a man's shirt while kissing him at the same time. Especially when his hands were right ...
"Hey, Hermione?" she heard Parvati Patil cry from the door. And then, "Hermione, what are you--?" shocked.
Attempting to sit up and simultaneously untangle herself from Severus' arms, the only thing Hermione accomplished was to flip them both to the floor, whacking her elbow painfully on the bedpost. Severus let out a soft gasp as she landed firmly on his stomach. But he remained otherwise silent, wide-eyed with obvious fear.
"Parvati!" Hermione nearly screamed. "Get out! Get out right now!"
A hurried scuffle told her that the stunned girl had obeyed.
The pair relaxed slightly. "Somehow the mood has been broken," Severus said dryly, pushing his hair out of his face as casually as he could, but she could still see the fear in his eyes.
"Maybe she didn't see your face," Hermione said, suspecting that wasn't the correct thing to say in this particular scenario but not knowing what else she could manage.
"Maybe," he agreed, but he didn't sound hopeful. "I should go now."
"Probably."
She followed him to the entrance, still having no idea what to say. Severus paused at the doorway and gave her a chaste kiss. "I'm sorry about all this, Hermione."
"Don't worry, Severus," she said, smiling sadly.
He restored his Concealment Charm, and she felt his fingers on her cheek before he moved away.
Plopping down on her mussed bed with a sigh, Hermione glanced at her clock. She'd give Severus ten minutes to get out of the tower before she went down to the Common Room to do some damage control. If only she could find out beforehand whether or not Parvati had recognized Severus.
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