Scattered (Book 1)

Dream Fever (2)

Snamione   >^.^<

Hermione woke with a start, a loud bang reverberating through the house, as she leapt to her feet, and brandished her wand, running from her room to her parent's. She had to get Snape, and escape, before the Death Eaters broke in.

She was halfway into the room before she realized the bed was empty, the covers thrown back. She froze, and spun on her heel, checking behind her, and finding no surprises. The house had gone silent in her dash to the next room, and she looked around confused. Had they given up attacking? She ran to the front door, and looked out of the peephole. The lawn was empty.

A dull thud and clattering noise from inside the house caught her attention, and she followed it, right into the kitchen. Snape was sitting on the floor, looking only semi-conscious, holding a pan in one hand, and a pot in the other. One cabinet was open, and it looked like he'd fallen, trying to grab the contents to steady himself, and only ended up making more noise.

"Are you alright?" She worried, hurrying to him, and yanking the dishes from his hands, tossing them noisily on the counter.

"Fine." Snape's familiar poisonous tone was back, and she watched his eyes narrow in hatred as she tried to help him up. He staggered to his feet, and pulled away from her, glaring daggers, and sneering bitterly at her concerned expression.

"Leave me alone, girl." He waved a hand at her, and nearly fell, his one arm on the counter not quite enough to support himself. Hermione was under his arm in an instant, trying to pull him back toward the bedroom.

"You need to lie down, Professor. If you're hungry, I'll make something." She tried to encourage him. His chest jerked, and she heard a strange strangled noise come from his throat. He was trying to laugh, she realized.

"I don't need your help!" He scoffed, and tried to draw away again, leaning back against the counter, his hands gripping behind him for support, as he seemed to nearly shrink away from her in the small kitchen.

"Stop being so obstinate!" Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment as she chastised the older man. In school, she'd never have even thought of being so bossy with him. He looked at her stunned for a moment, clearly surprised by her superior tone.

"Don't take that tone with me!" He finally managed, straightening his back, to tower over her, like he had in school, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'll take whatever tone I need to! Now either cooperate, or I'll spell you back into bed!" She threatened, refusing to be intimidated by his imposing height, and deadly black stare. She could hardly believe that this churlish, grouchy man was the same one who'd held her down, and made her hot and bothered earlier. She glared right back at him, trying to force the memory of how it'd felt from her mind. She didn't need that right now, she needed him to cooperate.

"Are you really so eager to get me in bed, Miss Granger?" His voice had changed slightly, his tone less cantankerous, and more suggestive. She felt her cheeks redden, realizing a moment too late that he was a skilled Legilimens. Had he seen her memories? She took a step back, hitting the opposite counter, suddenly worried by the look on his face. Was he misinterpreting her words now, too?

"I didn't mean it like that!" She yipped, unable to fully get rid of the warmth that had flooded her with the memory. 'Ron. Think of Ron.' She told herself, trying to stare her ex-professor down, without letting too many of her thoughts to the surface. She needed to be steely, impenetrable.

"You can't lie to me, Granger." He said, his voice low, quiet. His eyes seemed to be filling more of her mind, bigger, and bigger. She could feel the warmth from him, and pulled her eyes away, to see she was nearly surrounded by blackness. When had he gotten so close? She didn't know, and realized his hands were holding the counter on either side of her, blocking her in with his arms.