(no subject)
Title: Rumbled
Author:
treacle_tartlet
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~750
Challenge: Recipient: lomonaaeren; hand, wand, quick, "You can't fool me".
Summary: Hermione knows what Harry's been up to, but does Harry know what Hermione thinks she knows, and how will he talk his way out of it?
Harry glanced up as the door of the Library creaked open, and tried to hide his disappointment as Hermione entered and made a beeline for the desk he was sitting at. She plonked herself into the seat next to him, her armload of books landing on the desk with a heavy thud and a cloud of dust. Harry went on scratching diligently away at his Transfiguration homework, hoping to keep at bay the lecture he could almost hear Hermione rehearsing in her head. Her lips were pressed into a thin not-amused line, and her nostrils were flaring in a way that made Harry distinctly uneasy.
He tried to simultaneously concentrate on his homework and figure out what he’d done wrong. Or rather, what Hermione had found out about. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her drumming her fingers on the worn, scarred desktop, the quick rat-a-tat of her fingernails loud in the heavy, rustling quiet. Madam Pince glanced up from her desk, fixed her gimlet eye on Hermione’s hand stilled, and went back to stamping returns.
Harry decided to see how long it would take to make Hermione crack, and so went on studiously ignoring her.
Hermione’s self-control lasted slightly less than thirty seconds. Huffing her best exasperated huff, she leaned over and hissed in his ear,
“I know what you’re up to.”
This statement didn’t help Harry work out what she was cross about. There were any number of things he could be described as ‘up to’. Details, that’s what he needed, so he could frame some sort of defence.
“What do you mean, ‘you know what I’m up to’?”
Alright, it wasn’t subtle, but no-one had ever accused him subtlety.
“You can’t fool me, Harry. You haven’t exactly made much of an effort to hide it, have you? I mean, for god’s sake, even Ron thinks something’s up and…”
Well, if Ron had wind of what ever it was, at least that narrowed it down. Harry sighed.
“Bloody George!” His exclamation earned him a glare from Madam Pince, and he lowered his voice.
“He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone until we’d finished testing them! Look, Hermione, they’re perfectly safe…”
“What? What’s George got to do with it?”
Right. Not the new range of Skiving Snackbox sweets, then. He winced, realising that he’d dropped them in it, but was briefly hopeful that Hermione’s obvious outrage might distract her from whatever she’d actually come to lecture him about.
“Erm…nothing. I was just helping George with a bit of market research.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes t him.
“Well, never mind that now. I was talking about Malfoy.”
Harry’s heart sank. Of all the things for her to have cottoned on to, why must it have been the thing with Malfoy? It was going take a lot to wriggle out of this one.
“Oh, um, it’s not what it looks like!” Oh, nice one, thought Harry, that hardly sounded suspicious at all.
“Really? Because it looks like you’re up to your old tricks again, Harry; sneaking out of the dorm at all hours of the night, watching him all the time. Remember what happened last time?”
Now Harry was confused (and a little bit awed by her detective skills). How could she possibly know? Harry blushed furiously.
“Hermione, I appreciate the concern,” he whispered, “but its fine. We’ll use proper lube next time, Malfoy bought some…”
“WHAT?” shrieked Hermione, standing up and sending her chair toppling backwards with a crash. Madam Pince stood up and started to glide towards them. Hermione sat back down, her eyes the size of saucers. Harry mentally kicked himself.
“What do you mean, lube? Are you two…oh my god! You are! You’re shagging Malfoy!” She was, to her credit, managing to keep her voice down.
Madam Pince materialised by the desk.
“No noise in the Library.” She snarled. Harry and Hermione nodded, wide eyed and mute, and waited until she’d retreated before continuing. Hermione seemed, mercifully, to be at a loss for words.
Well, the cat was out of the bag, Harry thought resignedly. She would inevitably tell Ron, who would inevitably hit the roof, and Harry thought he should probably warn Malfoy to keep his wand at the ready. One thing still puzzled him, though.
“What did you mean by ‘what happened last time’?”
“The Sectumsempra incident, obviously.”
“Oh. Well, never mind. I made it up to him. A couple of times, actually.”
It was Hermione’s turn to blush.
“I don’t need to know the details, Harry! Now, we need to work out how to break it to Ron…”
Author:
treacle_tartlet
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~750
Challenge: Recipient: lomonaaeren; hand, wand, quick, "You can't fool me".
Summary: Hermione knows what Harry's been up to, but does Harry know what Hermione thinks she knows, and how will he talk his way out of it?
Harry glanced up as the door of the Library creaked open, and tried to hide his disappointment as Hermione entered and made a beeline for the desk he was sitting at. She plonked herself into the seat next to him, her armload of books landing on the desk with a heavy thud and a cloud of dust. Harry went on scratching diligently away at his Transfiguration homework, hoping to keep at bay the lecture he could almost hear Hermione rehearsing in her head. Her lips were pressed into a thin not-amused line, and her nostrils were flaring in a way that made Harry distinctly uneasy.
He tried to simultaneously concentrate on his homework and figure out what he’d done wrong. Or rather, what Hermione had found out about. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her drumming her fingers on the worn, scarred desktop, the quick rat-a-tat of her fingernails loud in the heavy, rustling quiet. Madam Pince glanced up from her desk, fixed her gimlet eye on Hermione’s hand stilled, and went back to stamping returns.
Harry decided to see how long it would take to make Hermione crack, and so went on studiously ignoring her.
Hermione’s self-control lasted slightly less than thirty seconds. Huffing her best exasperated huff, she leaned over and hissed in his ear,
“I know what you’re up to.”
This statement didn’t help Harry work out what she was cross about. There were any number of things he could be described as ‘up to’. Details, that’s what he needed, so he could frame some sort of defence.
“What do you mean, ‘you know what I’m up to’?”
Alright, it wasn’t subtle, but no-one had ever accused him subtlety.
“You can’t fool me, Harry. You haven’t exactly made much of an effort to hide it, have you? I mean, for god’s sake, even Ron thinks something’s up and…”
Well, if Ron had wind of what ever it was, at least that narrowed it down. Harry sighed.
“Bloody George!” His exclamation earned him a glare from Madam Pince, and he lowered his voice.
“He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone until we’d finished testing them! Look, Hermione, they’re perfectly safe…”
“What? What’s George got to do with it?”
Right. Not the new range of Skiving Snackbox sweets, then. He winced, realising that he’d dropped them in it, but was briefly hopeful that Hermione’s obvious outrage might distract her from whatever she’d actually come to lecture him about.
“Erm…nothing. I was just helping George with a bit of market research.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes t him.
“Well, never mind that now. I was talking about Malfoy.”
Harry’s heart sank. Of all the things for her to have cottoned on to, why must it have been the thing with Malfoy? It was going take a lot to wriggle out of this one.
“Oh, um, it’s not what it looks like!” Oh, nice one, thought Harry, that hardly sounded suspicious at all.
“Really? Because it looks like you’re up to your old tricks again, Harry; sneaking out of the dorm at all hours of the night, watching him all the time. Remember what happened last time?”
Now Harry was confused (and a little bit awed by her detective skills). How could she possibly know? Harry blushed furiously.
“Hermione, I appreciate the concern,” he whispered, “but its fine. We’ll use proper lube next time, Malfoy bought some…”
“WHAT?” shrieked Hermione, standing up and sending her chair toppling backwards with a crash. Madam Pince stood up and started to glide towards them. Hermione sat back down, her eyes the size of saucers. Harry mentally kicked himself.
“What do you mean, lube? Are you two…oh my god! You are! You’re shagging Malfoy!” She was, to her credit, managing to keep her voice down.
Madam Pince materialised by the desk.
“No noise in the Library.” She snarled. Harry and Hermione nodded, wide eyed and mute, and waited until she’d retreated before continuing. Hermione seemed, mercifully, to be at a loss for words.
Well, the cat was out of the bag, Harry thought resignedly. She would inevitably tell Ron, who would inevitably hit the roof, and Harry thought he should probably warn Malfoy to keep his wand at the ready. One thing still puzzled him, though.
“What did you mean by ‘what happened last time’?”
“The Sectumsempra incident, obviously.”
“Oh. Well, never mind. I made it up to him. A couple of times, actually.”
It was Hermione’s turn to blush.
“I don’t need to know the details, Harry! Now, we need to work out how to break it to Ron…”