Bedknobs and Broomsticks
Title: Bedknobs and Broomsticks
Team Name: the D to the E
Word Count: (100) X 5
Rating: G (for now)
Challenge: Grey night shirt challenge, possessive!Snape challenge, Shakespeare quote challenge
Authors Notes: not mine (although I wish he was!); no beta- point at laugh at me alone
Hermione startled, bought back from the brink of sleep by… what?
She ticked off the list of those currently staying at Grimmauld Place (not quite clean, but Dumbledore-visage free): herself and Harry. Luna and her father had departed-after months of magical and structural repair on their home-and now the Burrow, too, was repaired, so the gaggle of redheads were (thankfully) gone.
She craned, trying to hear what lay beyond the silence. There it was again! The footsteps were slow, deliberate… but each creak of the stair a testament to the presence of another. Harry never walked so softly.
***
They had, just the day before, heard from Professor-now acting-Headmistress-McGonagall that Severus (no-longer-Headmaster) Snape had recovered enough to finally leave St. Mungo’s. Harry had offered him sanctuary, but had heard nothing in response.
McGonagall, thankfully a stubborn Scot to the marrow, had sent an Auror and a junior healer to see to his person, not expecting that they would find him alive.
He lay still in a pool of blood mingled with stray wisps of memory, voluminous robes spread ‘round his shockingly thin body. His hold on the last tendrils of life was tenuous, but grasp he did.
***
The footsteps stopped, the blackness suddenly eerily silent.
Hermione held her breath as she heard the quiet scrape of a doorknob-her doorknob-turn and unlatch.
The door closed quietly. Shuffling steps approached. She wracked her brain to think of who was still at large, who could break the wards, who would target her when The Boy Who Triumphed was just down the hall.
She shrunk back into her pillow as she felt the chill air hit skin bared by the rising bedclothes.
The soft brush of cotton, heat, and a long and lanky body reclining next to her.
***
“Wha-Miss Granger? What is the meaning of this!? How dare you..,” a deep, raspy voice demanded.
“Professor! What are you doing in my bed?” she interrupted, shocked beyond all measure.
“Lumos!” Severus Snape snapped. “What do you mean your room? This has been my room since Grimmauld Place was made Order headquarters! Cease your occupation at once!”
“I will not!” Since you didn’t respond to Harry’s offier, I didn’t clean a room for you-the only clean bedrooms are his and mine,” she huffed. “Which of us do you prefer to share with?”
“This. Is. My. Room,” he spat.
***
“Not. Tonight,” she countered, angrily. Who does he think he is, arriving in the middle of the night, barking orders? Hermione stared, curiosity overruling decorum as her eyes took in his thin form, and his… ratty grey nightshirt?
“See anything you like?” he sneered, then pulled the bedclothes over his pale, spindly legs.
Hermione blushed. “N-no! I wasn’t! I didn’t!”
“The Lady doth protest too much, methinks.” He smirked before laying his head on the pillow and pulling the bedclothes to his chest. “As difficult as it is for me to admit, your presence is preferable to Boy Wonder’s. Nox.”
--to be continued--
Team Name: the D to the E
Word Count: (100) X 5
Rating: G (for now)
Challenge: Grey night shirt challenge, possessive!Snape challenge, Shakespeare quote challenge
Authors Notes: not mine (although I wish he was!); no beta- point at laugh at me alone
Hermione startled, bought back from the brink of sleep by… what?
She ticked off the list of those currently staying at Grimmauld Place (not quite clean, but Dumbledore-visage free): herself and Harry. Luna and her father had departed-after months of magical and structural repair on their home-and now the Burrow, too, was repaired, so the gaggle of redheads were (thankfully) gone.
She craned, trying to hear what lay beyond the silence. There it was again! The footsteps were slow, deliberate… but each creak of the stair a testament to the presence of another. Harry never walked so softly.
***
They had, just the day before, heard from Professor-now acting-Headmistress-McGonagall that Severus (no-longer-Headmaster) Snape had recovered enough to finally leave St. Mungo’s. Harry had offered him sanctuary, but had heard nothing in response.
McGonagall, thankfully a stubborn Scot to the marrow, had sent an Auror and a junior healer to see to his person, not expecting that they would find him alive.
He lay still in a pool of blood mingled with stray wisps of memory, voluminous robes spread ‘round his shockingly thin body. His hold on the last tendrils of life was tenuous, but grasp he did.
***
The footsteps stopped, the blackness suddenly eerily silent.
Hermione held her breath as she heard the quiet scrape of a doorknob-her doorknob-turn and unlatch.
The door closed quietly. Shuffling steps approached. She wracked her brain to think of who was still at large, who could break the wards, who would target her when The Boy Who Triumphed was just down the hall.
She shrunk back into her pillow as she felt the chill air hit skin bared by the rising bedclothes.
The soft brush of cotton, heat, and a long and lanky body reclining next to her.
***
“Wha-Miss Granger? What is the meaning of this!? How dare you..,” a deep, raspy voice demanded.
“Professor! What are you doing in my bed?” she interrupted, shocked beyond all measure.
“Lumos!” Severus Snape snapped. “What do you mean your room? This has been my room since Grimmauld Place was made Order headquarters! Cease your occupation at once!”
“I will not!” Since you didn’t respond to Harry’s offier, I didn’t clean a room for you-the only clean bedrooms are his and mine,” she huffed. “Which of us do you prefer to share with?”
“This. Is. My. Room,” he spat.
***
“Not. Tonight,” she countered, angrily. Who does he think he is, arriving in the middle of the night, barking orders? Hermione stared, curiosity overruling decorum as her eyes took in his thin form, and his… ratty grey nightshirt?
“See anything you like?” he sneered, then pulled the bedclothes over his pale, spindly legs.
Hermione blushed. “N-no! I wasn’t! I didn’t!”
“The Lady doth protest too much, methinks.” He smirked before laying his head on the pillow and pulling the bedclothes to his chest. “As difficult as it is for me to admit, your presence is preferable to Boy Wonder’s. Nox.”
--to be continued--