Title: Oh, Shut Up

Author: Larissa

E-mail: LarissaFae@sleepingsun.org

Pairing: Herm/Sev

Rating: G (General Goofiness)

Disclaimers: Am I J. K. Rowling?  No, dummy, so don't think I think this is mine or that I think people will send me money for it (but you're welcome to send me money).  Oh, and Arian is mine and you can't have her unless you ask first, and then you can only borrow her and must give me full credit (and money, if you want).

Notes: I . . . guess this kinda-sorta takes place in the Red Threads It's-All-About-Me-verse.  I guess.  Written as I put off doing the rest of my Korean Homework.  Don't blame me, blame my muses.

            A somewhat frizzy-haired brown head slowly raised itself off of the desk it had fallen on to as soon as its owner had sat down, and bleary brown eyes blinked fuzzily around the room, finally locating the source of what had awakened it from its much-needed sleep, which it had been robbed of by an overly-excited baby the night previously.

            "And furthermore," velvet ice lashed out, "your ineptitude at Potions is only complicated by your fascination with what lies beneath the skirts of the female students."  The voice turned into a sneer that dragged slime all over the place.  That voice was starting to get annoying.  "Believe me," it squiggled, "you don't want what's under there.  It's not worth the pain you'll be put through."

            "Oh, shut up."

            Students jerked around to stare and the slimy, oogy speaker fell silent as Hermione covered a huge yawn that turned into a larger stretch, which slid her off of the chair she'd appropriated and onto the floor.

            "I beg your pardon?"  Ooooh, shivery snowflakes that stung.

            She grasped the edge of the desk and heaved herself to her feet, yawning again and rubbing her eyes as she half-stumbled up to the podium and jabbed one long finger into Severus' chest, glowering sleepily up at him.

            "Oh, shut up," she repeated.  "Can it.  Put a sock in it.  Shut your cake-hole.  Be quiet."  Another massive yawn took her and she leaned into Severus for support, resting her head sleepily on his shoulder.  At the height of her yawn she emitted a very cat-like mewl, ignoring or blissfully unaware of the daggers being forcibly glared into her fuzzy brown head by Snape.

            There she seemed content to stay, with Severus' arms supporting her weight around her waist, the students staring, and Severus himself glaring.

            "Professor Granger," he grated out.

            "Said shove it," she muttered into his robes, reaching her arms up and around his neck.  "Tuck me in."

            He would have gone for his wand had she suddenly let herself drop, forcing Severus to either let her fall or catch her.  Much against his better judgment, he chose the latter, sweeping her up into his arms.  Hermione smiled sweetly as she curled toward him, already nestling deep into his arms as he glared at the students.

            "If any of you move, we'll be testing Helmiener's potion on you."

            With that he swept from the room, stalking darkly to Hermione's rooms and cursing that they were so far away from the dungeons.  Of course, had they been closer he would have cursed that, too, every time his perceived privacy was invaded by a harried Hermione dumping an all-too-often stinky Arian in his lap as she sought privacy of her own.

            Severus kicked open her door, stalked into the bedroom, by a wonderful twist of laughing Fate forgot or didn't noticed the firm hold she had on the front of his robes, tossed her onto her bed and promptly went with her, cursing in several languages as he found himself against the wall, with Hermione between him and escape.

            "Too damn noisy," she muttered, rolling onto her stomach and throwing an arm across him.

            "Unhand me, woman," he snarled, "or---"

            A centimetre away from Hermione Granger's lips was not in Snape's Top Ten list of the Places He Wanted to Be.  He watched them curve into a smug, sleepy smile, a feeling of impending doom washing over him whilst a sinister voice that sounded disturbingly like Dumbledore whispered to him that he was going to enjoy this.

            "Oh, shut up," Hermione whispered before quite un-tiredly pressing their lips together.