This story occurs in Harry's seventh year. He, Ron, and Hermione are 17. This is AU, as Snape is still alive, and Voldemort is just not involved. I view old Voldy as a complication to this story, and so, he is not welcome. The premise of the story is that you are reading Hermione's private journal. The view switches to Harry's POV as well. Pairings include SS/HP, HG/GW, RW/LB.
I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters in this story, although I feel like they are all close friends of mine. I simply send them on adventures, and alter their world in a way I feel they would enjoy more.
Journal Entry, September 21
God, she's so sassy. I watch her sashay her way along the aisle between the tables, until she comes to an open place across from me. Grinning widely, she takes care to seat herself so her skirt doesn't ride up. She once told me that she was self conscious about her thighs.
I've seen them. They are mouth watering.
Ginny Weasley has nothing to be concerned about. She is absolutely perfect.
She's never suspected anything of me. I am after all, her brother's best friend. I'm always polite, and supportive. I'm careful to never be suggestive.
I'm also a girl.
Does it surprise you? That I, Hermione Granger am attracted to women?
It surprised me too. I thought for a while that I was hetero- I wanted the white wedding, the house and the children. But now I know that these things aren't for me. And I wish so desperately, so urgently, that she would see it too.
Professor Snape is such a caustic man. He is permanently bitter, and cruel. Even when I know my potions should meet with his approval, he sneers at my efforts. If I were a feminist, I'd be tempted to say that my intellect threatens him, but there is no evidence to support that, even if the boys do get all the attention.
Harry sits next to me, blinking innocently, botching every attempt, fighting with Snape at every turn, and still he gets more out of the man than just cold indifference! I feel so shunted off to the side in every class. Potions could be my favorite subject, given a bit of encouragement. I brewed Polyjuice Potion in my second year! I could be great!
Instead I'm just a bushy haired nobody to the most brilliant mind at Hogwarts. I try to explain to Ron that I want a mentorship out of Professor Snape, but he just looks at me strangely and offers some remark on "not wanting any more attention from the git than strictly necessary."
I love Ron, honestly I do, and he's like my brother. But sometimes I wish he was more my equal intellectually, or that his brilliance at strategy would translate into something more than a game of Wizard's chess.
Ginny's just come in and wants to talk about what to wear on her date with Dean. I nod happily and follow her up to her dorm. Even though it kills me a bit to help her get ready for a date with a boy, I just can't say no.
She has the cutest dimples.
Ginny's crying on my shoulder. Her date went terribly. I'm sympathetic, but inside, I'm cheering. I've no idea if she even likes women, but if I make myself available to her, maybe someday…
Should I feel terribly about using my friendship to get closer to her? What if she does think of me as a friend, as someone she can trust, and all this time I'm lusting after her? Would she feel betrayed?
Nevertheless, she raises her eyes to mine and I feel no guilt. Her eyes are shimmering with tears. I can see each individual teardrop clinging to each dark lash. Her eyes are so beautiful, even though she's been crying. Imagine a blue sky after it's been washed by a summer rain, and that is the exact colour of Ginny's eyes. Her lips are a darker shade of pink than usual- she's been biting them. The tip of her nose is delicately reddened. Seeing me look at her, she sniffs a bit and pulls away.
"I must look a mess," She says miserably.
"No," I said. "You look wonderful."
It's worth all the agony to see her smile.
Luna Lovegood is absolutely intriguing. She is a Ravenclaw, but she is the vaguest person I've ever met. And yet, sometimes, she drops these pearls of wisdom. If I didn't know her to be completely incapable of falsity I'd say it was all an act she put on, and underneath it all was a sharp and cunning persona.
Did you know, they call her Loony Luna? And yet, I've seen her fabricate some of the most amazing and detailed objects ever. Fabricating, (as explained by Luna) is a bit like transfiguration, only it uses the objects in their natural form and combines or alters them instead of forcibly changing them. For instance, I could take a rock and transfigure it into a goblet, but Luna could take that same rock, and simply change the shape of the object without changing its composition, mass, or features. She would end up with a goblet made out of the same type of stone she transfigures.
Imagine the possibilities for, say, a gemstone. She can shape it into any shape she could imagine, without discarding any of the original material. I once heard a jeweler say that too much of a gem was lost during the shaping and cutting process. They would kill to have Luna's skill.
I'm sitting here in the quidditch stands with her, watching Harry fly. Of course, he isn't flying for us, necessarily, it's just that watching Harry in flight is similar to seeing a ballet dancer perform- all grace and tight forms, fascinating sequences and heart stopping maneuvers. A complete change from the gawky, thin boy he is on the ground.
I'm scanning the tree line as Harry stops to release the snitch when my eye catches a flash of black. I murmur a quick telescoping spell for my eyes and look closer. It's Snape! What's he doing here, I wonder? Unless…
Oh my Sorcerer, he's watching Harry fly! There's no other reason for him to be skulking about. I look over again, and, yes, there he is, peering between the trees, eyes locked on Harry as he flies. I can't think what to make of this.
That inconsiderate, asinine, incoherent, bloody wretch!
I caught Ron with my diary today. He was paging through it like it was this month's version of Quidditch: Quaffles to Snitches. Luckily, my scrambling spell stopped him from being able to read through it, but he still had no right! He knew I kept the things in it private!
I asked him what exactly he thought he was doing, and he looked sheepish, muttered something, and blushed. I'm still righteously indignant about the whole thing. I've refused to look at him, and Ginny hexed him really well for me. She's sitting next to me now, alternating between glaring at Ron, and chatting with Harry.
Why would Ron have wanted to read my diary? What did he think he would find?
Or… maybe, what was he hoping to find? I look up, and catch Ron's eye. He flushes a deep red and looks quickly away. I sigh and excuse myself. I had hoped that this would never happen, because it is sure to complicate things between us.
Ron has a crush on me.
Professor Snape is following us around again. Harry and I are window shopping in Hogsmeade. We left Ginny with some of her friends. Sometimes, I wish I could spend time with just her, but I don't want to raise any suspicions. Ron is with Lavender Brown.
I know what he is doing, of course- trying to make me jealous. So far, I've acted indifferent. I really don't care. Eventually, I may have to act a bit, just to make him keep up the charade in the hope that he is winning me.
At any rate, there goes Professor Snape again. Does he really believe he can hide behind a lamp post that thin successfully? This obsession of his is making the man act like an utter goob.
I wait until Harry is distracted and turn to wink at Snape.
His expression is comical- wide eyes, darkened cheeks, and an abrupt (and silent!) apparition. Lord, the man may be a genius and an excellent spy, but I swear, he needs to get some courage.
I look at Harry critically. He is squinting at a price on a pair of socks in a window. Really, he is completely adorable. He has this feminine bone structure, all delicate. His skin is clear, of course, and his eyes are large and emerald green behind his glasses.
I make a decision. Now that I know for sure about Snape liking Harry, I decide to put my plan into effect.
Harry is getting a make-over.
I grab his arm and tell him it's time for his birthday present.
He looks confused (still adorable, the wretch) and protests.
Few things stand in the way of my determination. A confused and weakly protesting Harry Potter is not one of those few things.
I am determined to make a mentor out of Snape.
If I have to "sacrifice" Harry in order to do so, I will.
Really, the poor boy needs someone to take care of him, anyway.
Snape just happens to be exactly the man for the job.
We head to the Optometrists' down the way. As a last attempt at complete control, and to properly frighten Harry, I snatch his glasses off his face, throw them into the air, and blast them with a quick reducto. The flaming bits that remain are hardly salvageable. A now nearly blind Harry follows me meekly into the shop.
Like I said, very little will stand in my way once I am determined enough.
I am rewarded when, an hour later, Harry's entrance to the Three Broomsticks causes silence to fall immediately. Harry's hair, which is usually very- well, hairy- is lying flat and silky for once. He no longer wears glasses, and his clothes fit him for once. I smirk as whispers and giggles erupt from every girl (and a few boys) in the place. Harry flushes, and head down, stalks over to the table Ron, Lavender, and Ginny have claimed in the corner.
I look over to where I feel Snape staring and catch his eye. Really, anyone should be able to identify the man, even under that cloak. Who else wears layer upon layer of black in this mild weather?
I raise my eyebrow at him and jerk my head towards Harry in a "well?" gesture. I wanted to be able to see his reaction- something about Harry disarms him enough for me to discern his emotions- but I can't see beneath the hood. The hand on the table raises and circles twice, landing palm up, gently furled.
He's given me a touché.
I can work with that.
I nod once and go join Harry.
I woke up this morning and filled my lungs with the chilled air of a fresh school day. While my roommates are stumbling around me, jerking away from the cold flagstones and shying away from the bright sunlight, I am barely able to contain my excitement. What I have set into motion is far from being completed, true, but I know my steps now, and dastardly they may be, but I am sick of settling for less.
Breakfast will be quite the occasion today, if I may say so. Some sacrifices may have to occur, but they are sacrifices I will make willingly.
Breaking the rules is just the first of them.
The Great Hall is swathed in its morning garb of sleepy students, rustling owls, cautious Prefects, and sparkling dust motes. Breakfast is on the table, and everyone is digging in. I grin at Ron and Harry, and join them on the bench. I suppose they've had Quidditch already; Harry is windblown and flushed, and Ron is eating even more ravenously than usual.
Sliding the tea my way, I surreptitiously maneuver the jam closer to Harry. He absentmindedly scoops some onto a piece of toast, his eyes on the Daily Prophet an owl has just dropped into his bacon. I check my timepiece- a pocket watch, and a bit masculine, but why should men be the only ones able to tell the time- and sit well back from the table.
The jam explodes on every table, simultaneously.
At first, there is complete silence, but suddenly everyone starts yelling.
Among the noise, I hear, "I've just eaten that! Am I going to explode?"
"Am I breathing out sparks? I think I just saw one- look, there!"
There is pandemonium. Dumbledore manages to separate the students and teachers who have eaten the jam from those who have not. The jam group is small, and includes, as I knew it would, both Harry and Snape.
Now, the secondary effect is about to occur. Harry begins to turn purple, having eaten blueberry jam, while Snape turns pink, as he has had strawberry. No other students change colour.
Madam Pomfrey soon clears the other jam eaters as being fine, but forces Snape and Harry into following her to the Hospital Wing. There, as I know very well, each will faint in five minute intervals, forcing Madam Pomfrey to keep them confined to bed, and near to her and each other for quick access.
Ron is sitting on the bench still looking stupefied, so I touch his shoulder, grin hesitantly, and say we shouldn't try to visit Harry for a bit, so we might as well go to class. He nods jerkily, and follows me.
The secret of, and responsibility for the Great Jam Escapade lies in the very small and very capable hands of the house elves. I made an agreement with them- they will allow me to knit them clothing, as long as I sign a contract stating that the clothing is a uniform, and not a means of freedom. I am also never allowed to interview them about their lives, or question them about what they believe their rights are, or should be. In exchange, I asked that they slip potion into the jam, and special variants into the jam right by Professor Snape and Harry Potter. I had to reassure them all that no one would be hurt at all. They willingly agreed.
Of course, Dobby was my biggest supporter when I promised that I was actually helping Harry out- he squealed shrilly and agreed right away. The potion was one of my own creations. I hope the two patients in the hospital wing are alright- the tertiary effect will soon begin.
The worst torture of them all- inescapable tickling. Itching first immediately follows the color change, but then it changes into all over tickles. The best part? The only way to make the tickling stop, and the colour disappear…
I have to force myself to act surprised when Harry and Snape walk into the Great Hall holding hands. They both sit at the Head Table, and Dumbledore stands and calls for our attention.
"Students, you may have noticed that your esteemed Potions professor is holding Mr. Potter's hand. They are not doing this for their own entertainment, but rather because the jam they were exposed to has made it impossible for them to be parted without… erm, consequences. I hope they will have your understanding as we try to work to find a solution. For now, they must remain in contact, or they will change colour again and suffer terribly."
I swear I see Dumbledore's mouth twitch as he says "suffer." Of course, seeing Professor Snape rolling on the floor as he laughed uncontrollably would have been amusing, as well as terrifying.
I feel a gaze burning into the side of my head. I know who it belongs to and turn to give him a friendly wave. Snape's frown is incredible, and had he the power to shoot death rays I am sure I would be a pile of smouldering ash. Harry looks between me and Snape and then back down at his hand, which Snape is holding onto for dear life. He tilts his head to the side, which I recognize as his thinking face.
I wait, counting down, 3…2…1… Ding! His face turns a bright red and he looks apprehensively at Snape, and then glares at me.
'Let the games begin,' I think cheerily.
I've successfully avoided the Snape and Harry Siamese twin- everyone has begun to call them that, as they are attached at the hip, nearly. It's been several days. Harry has attended all of Snape's classes, while Snape attends those of Harry's that do not coincide with his classes. Harry has been forced to sleep in Snape's quarters. I can only imagine how that has been going.
(We now break for a view into Harry's point of view.)
The morning that the jam exploded, Professor Snape and I were the only ones to go to the infirmary. That place has become my second home, I swear. We both fainted, and woke up in adjoining beds. I started to feel very itchy, and Professor Snape must have felt it too, because he was discreetly scratching himself.
All of a sudden, I felt as though I was being tickled all over my body. The shock was so sudden that I rolled right off my bed and onto the floor. Professor Snape was above me, gritting his teeth and trying to remain still, but all of a sudden he gave in. And fell off his bed on top of me. For the moment we touched, the tickling stopped, but then he pushed me away. We both immediately began laughing helplessly as the tickling restarted.
I've never heard Snape laugh before, but his deep throated chuckle was surprisingly pleasant. Apparently, he caught onto the cure before I did. He grabbed hold of my hand and we both lay still on the ground gasping for breath. Where we touched, the colour of our skin began to change back to normal. Snape glared at his hand and mine, growled (a strangely attractive sound) and yelled, "Poppy!"
The verdict was simple. We needed to be in contact in order to function. At first, I got away with holding his hand from a different bed as we slept. Sometime during the night, though, our hands slackened and we both woke up laughing and gasping for air. After that, Professor Snape insisted we share a bed so we could get some sleep.
We didn't lose contact for the rest of the night. In fact, I woke up backed against his chest, with my head tucked below his chin. Snape's arms were wrapped firmly around me, and his face seemed to be buried in my hair. I would have been uncomfortable, except I felt so warm and safe.
Normally, Snape repulses me, but right now, I was close enough to smell him. He smelled marvelous, in case you were wondering. In addition, the chest I was against was firm and pleasantly cozy. Thin as he appears in his robes, he is actually lightly muscled. I was falling back to sleep when he stirred. He froze for a moment as he realized he was holding me, but didn't move away.
He cuddled down to me closer, pulling me more snugly against him. Then he sighed and went back to sleep. I may have been insane, but that sigh sounded strangely happy, not disgusted or angry. But why would Professor Snape ever be happy while holding me? He hates me, or at least I thought he did…
Each night we slept together, we would start out far away from each other, hands only touching, and end up spooning, or some variation on it. There was, of course, the awkwardness of trying to shower or use the bathroom, but we ended up using a spell to eliminate our waste and showering in swim trunks. We couldn't help but get very close in the shower. Sometimes I would catch Severus (he asked me to call him by his first name in his quarters the first day) looking at me like he wanted to devour me. Then I began noticing things about him.
The way he smelled, and his attractive body were the first things I noticed of course, but then I watched him getting ready for the day. He covers his hair and skin in a potion to prevent the potions fumes he is exposed to every day from building up in his system and killing him. He even uses a special mouthwash that only comes off with brushing to protect his lungs, mouth, and teeth. The only problem is, the potion turns him yellowish. After a shower, however…. Well, let's just say he could've achieved an entirely different reputation than the one he has now- and that would be, heartbreaker.
When we first figured out Hermione was the culprit behind the jam, I was angry. But then, as the days passed and I got to know Severus better, I couldn't be mad at her anymore. I know she saw something between Severus and I that I would never have seen without help. He seems to care for me. He hasn't been unkind to me when we are alone once. I guess it was all an act.
(We return to Hermione's point of view.)
I've just gotten away from being cornered by a surprisingly mellow set of Snape and Harry Siamese twins. The converstation I've been dreading for weeks was actually rather amusing.
Snape was trying his very best to look angry and menacing. Harry was snarling at me by his elbow.
"Miss Ganger," Snape hissed, "We know you are responsible for this travesty. We want the antidote immediately. And so help you Merlin if you do not have one formulated yet."
Harry added swiftly, "Please, Hermione?"
I grinned and held the bottle up for them to see. "Now, now, after all I've done for you, I'm not giving this to you without something in return, you understand."
Harry spluttered a bit, but Snape just nodded, and said, "I thought it may have been something like that. What with the-" he glanced down at his glasses free Harry, whose hair had become unnaturally neat and shiny- "makeover and all. Name your price."
I swiftly produced the apprenticeship contract I had made up, and said, "Take me on as your apprentice, and you may have the antidote."
Snape produced a quill and said, "After seeing the potion you invented in your attempt to get this, I will gladly take you on as an apprentice."
The contract multiplied into three, and the original poofed off to the Ministry to be filed. I took hold of one and Snape took the other.
I handed the two men the antidote, and they both took it. Snape shook my hand, saying, "Nice doing business with you Miss Granger."
He and Harry began walking away. That's when I noticed they were still holding hands.
"Professor, Harry," I called, "You can let go of each other now."
They both looked down at their hands, then, to my utter surprise, Harry turned around, grinned cheekily, and said, "You know that, and I know that, and Severus knows that, but no one else does, right Hermione?" He winked at me and then turned around and walked away with Snape.
I would call my mission an unmitigated success.
Ginny laughed herself silly after I told her about my adventures with Snape and Harry.
When she stopped laughing, she wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. All of a sudden, her expression turned very serious. She said, "Hermione, can I ask you something?"
I said, "Of course, Ginny, I'm an open book."
Ginny looked down at her hands, then looked up at me, a determined expression on her face. "Why haven't you made your move on Ron yet? He's been flaunting Lavender in front of you for ages now. Don't you like him?"
I shook my head at her and said, "Ginny, your brother is my very good friend, but I… I am in love with someone else." I peered at her anxiously, trying to gauge her reaction.
All of a sudden, her face was very, very close to mine. "Who do you like," she whispered.
I couldn't stop myself. Call it temporary insanity, or euphoria at getting nearly everything I wanted, but I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. She didn't pull away for a few moments, and when she did, her eyes remained closed and her brow was furrowed.
I held my breath, but then she opened her eyes and said, "Wow."
I breathed again, but cautiously. "Wow?" I wanted to be sure- "So, is wow a good thing or a bad-"
I was cut off as a pair of lips found mine. Obviously, wow was a good thing.
I smiled into the kiss and closed my eyes. Victory was, indeed, mine.