DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. It all is property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros.

Only A Thought

by Kara Darkblood

Seventh years are so . . . detestable. Even more so than the bloody first years that pour into the school every year. First years are like vermen. Once they have come, they refuse to leave until seven years later, when they are all "fully trained witches and wizards".

Seventh years are much like first years. So naive, so proud and anxtious and yet so scared . . . so fearful of what lies ahead. I hate them - every single one of them, with every last drop of my blood.

The Gryffindors and the Slytherins are the worst. With their foolish, petty squabbles which "preserve house pride," and their wand waving and curse muttering. They're far too protected here - a full body bind is the worst they've ever experienced from eachother here.

I survey them, on their last class. Malfoy - dangerous and evil. Petty and vain, much like his father. Crabbe and Goyle . . . god knows how they've made it this far. Thick as two short planks, they are.

And then: a most undesireable crowd: Potter. Weasely. Longbottom. Granger.

Or are they?

There is at least one of them that makes me pause for a moment.

What would a . . . how to put this? . . . relationship . . . with Miss Granger be like? She appears bossy, arrogant, and a very . . . nitpicky, motherly type.

However, there is much more to her than that - it is merely hidden under her masses of bushy hair. You see it when she looks at Weasley - when they think they've found a quiet, secret place to whisper their sweet nothings. She's passionate. Wild. In love.

What would a love like that feel like? To have her look at me, the way she looks at Weasley, to have her whisper those wild "sweet nothings" into my ear? To feel her lips on mine?

It is a most desireable thought, and yet . . . repulsing in its whole. This - girl - young and proud, so amazingly intelligent. This - again, I use the word - girl, who's seen such horrors and lived such adventures that would have made James Potter gape. She's off to marry Ronald Weasley, and probably be Minister of Magic, one day.

A most detestable, undesireable thing she is.

Just like all of the rest.

Oh, well . . . it was only a thought.


A/N: Been on a crappy fic writing run tonite. Sorry 'bout that one. I suck at Severus/Hermiones. I'm definately NOT a romantic author. Please R/R - flames will be used to light the fire by which I roast my chestnuts. Happy (Early) Christmas!