Harriet Potter 1

Imbeciles

Fred and George had apparrated them straight into the library, clearly thinking it would be empty and hoping to avoid notice.

They had landed right in front of him as he sat in an armchair with one booted foot resting on his other knee.

There was no book in his hands despite him being in the library. Had he gone there for peace, or had he anticipated their attempt at a subtle arrival?

From George's arms, Harriet giggled at the sight of Snape looking so angry that he might explode.

His face was a mask of rage and his voice was pure sharp ice "Imbeciles! Do you know how dangerous that was? Is she hurt?"

"Of course not!" Fred said, affronted.

George clutched her tighter "we'd never let anything happen to Harriet."

"And yet" he snarled "she returns with you imbeciles unable to walk."

Imbeciles Harriet giggled again.

"She's just drunk. Surely even the chosen one deserves a night off every now and then" Fred fired back.

Snape stepped towards George, his eyes grazing her form as though searching for injuries.

He tilted up her chin with a firm hand. He pushed her hair off her face and searched her eyes.

Well this was kind of nice. Harriet shot him a slow wink which he did not return.

Then to the combined shock of Harriet and the twins, Snape held out his arms in demand.

For a moment Fred and George were dumbstruck. Then George was placing Harriet tenderly into Snape's arms.

His grip on her was tight, clutching her hard against his firm chest.

"Mmmm" she sighed contentedly as she relaxed in his arms.

"I could get used to this" she slurred.

Fred and George looked very uncomfortable.

Snape however looked oddly smug.

"I will be sure to mention this to Molly."

Was that pride lacing his cruel velvet voice?

"Leave us." His dark tone brooked no argument.

As their footsteps receded she met the eyes of her handsome captor.

"Someone's angry" she teased running a finger along the line of his jaw.

His obsidian gaze was deadly as he met her eyes.

"People are protecting you around the clock putting their own lives in danger so you can go out on the town and get drunk" he snarled.

She probably should have felt ashamed but his words passed over her without landing.

Her eyes drank in the sight of the face that haunted her nights.

"So protective" she murmured.

Harriet's hands snagged in his dark silky hair "you are kind of cute when you're mad."

This statement of course seemed to make him infinitely angrier.

Harriet dissolved into another fit of giggles.

Her other hand slipped beneath his robes, and her fingers traced the firm planes of his broad chest over his shirt.

She nestled her face into his neck, resisting the urge to trace her tongue over his skin.

Maybe just a little taste.

She felt rather than heard the sigh that heaved through his chest. "We'll discuss this in the morning."

Harriet was vaguely aware that she should be dreading this. But in that moment it didn't seem important.

As her hand slid over his shirt her fingernail caught on a nipple through the fabric and he hissed.

Harriet grinned happily to herself as he carried her up the stairs and deposited her in her bed.

He kneeled at the foot of her bed.

The sight of it sent a tendril of pride through her.

He took a calf in his calloused palm, raising it towards him.

"Be still witch."

With aching care, he undid the straps of her heels and set them down at the foot of the bed.

"You can't sleep in that little dress, Potter. You'll need to change." His voice was unusually stiff. "Accio pyjamas!"

When nothing flew toward them Harriet dissolved into giggles at the sight of his confusion.

"I usually just sleep in my underwear."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

He flicked his wand and a large cotton t-shirt was gripped in his white-knuckled fist. Must be one of his.

He turned so his back was to her. His order was a blunt knife "change."

The t-shirt sailed towards her, hitting her square in the chest.

Harriet struggled to ease the tight dress over her head and her arms were trapped.

"Um, Professor, I'm stuck."

Harriet could hear him treading towards where she stood, half stuck with a dress over her head.

He sighed deeply before standing before her, taking the dress and pulling it up over her head.

Then she was before him in nothing but her flimsy panties. As the dress has been backless she hadn't bothered with a bra.

Nothing he hasn't seen before Harriet thought wryly.

His gaze was unabashed as his eyes met hers.

Then to her shock he picked up the cotton t-shirt and gently slid it over her, pulling her arms through the holes. "Wouldn't want the chosen one to be defeated by a t-shirt."

Then with aching tenderness he tucked her into the bed.