When Hermione Fights

Injured

Injured

Snape's POV

This house was a madhouse. Was it because of Black, the Weasleys or the gathering members of the Order?

I didn't know, I only knew that I could live without it, because these giggles were absolutely annoying and now Potter's permanent presence in this house harassed me too! When he had come in he had looked absolutely dumbstruck when I had been sitting in his usual seat, in the dark next to Black. Potter apparently didn't like it at all, so his lips had twisted into a thin, disapproving line. Then he had turned away abruptly and settled down spontaneously in Miss Granger's usual seat, which, as I noticed Black's temporarily tense posture, didn't suit the other man in turn. It was hysterically funny, but of course there was nothing more than emphasised indifference on my features. Oh well, Potter, even the godson can't compete with the youthful, willing body of a woman, I thought maliciously and twisted down the corners of my mouth, for already the pictures of the last meeting came to my mind, where I had seen Black and Miss Perfect in action.

No, I didn't want to think of that, I called myself resolutely to order. I had found a way to eradicate the pictures of Miss Granger, but unfortunately hadn't been able to arrange a new meeting in the last few days. This close to the start of the school year and combined with my live as a spy my tasks were just too varied to have time to pursue my rare pleasure. When I thought about it... Minna, yes, she had successfully suppressed the thoughts of Miss Granger, and as I recalled my memory, I decided to send an owl soon!

But then my thoughts were interrupted much to my chagrin, as the cacophony of my surroundings reached unimaginable heights, and I had to listen to Lupin, Tonks, Potter and the red posse and how loudly indignant they were about Miss Granger's behaviour, since she had just said good-bye in Diagon Alley and disappeared without a trace! Unbelievable, unfortunately, I couldn't blame her. This was the dominant theme of this impertinent and obnoxious rabble.

I looked at Black, who became increasingly restless and glanced at the door again and again. It was already half past nine. And as much as I knew, Miss Granger always came back at eight o'clock, or shortly afterwards. She was punctual and in this respect she was just as pedantic as with her mile-long essays with all the cross-references, annoying but predictable. I would never admit it, but I was like her. Me and any resemblance to Granger, just ridiculous! Why did that annoying little girl dominate my thoughts that much?

Exactly because she didn't present herself like a little schoolgirl. To Potter and the Weasleys perhaps, but to me and Black she had shown another, very different and very unexpected face. But now, what would I know or what would we know what Miss Granger was doing anyways? I wouldn't try to guess where she had left to, after I had gotten to know her more closely, as I doubted not to say something vicious, perhaps she was amusing herself with a man in an alley? Who could know it with her, I thought contemptuously and a little bit spiteful! Whilst I was deep in my thoughts, all of which were about Miss Granger, as I recognized with contempt and which I would never admit openly, a Patronus burst suddenly through the kitchen door, a magpie! Who, by Slytherin, had a magpie? It flew straight toward Black.

I just indignantly raised an eyebrow and watched all this from my corner. The whole kitchen was wrapped in silence. They all stared at the spectacle that was taking place before their eyes. The whole order was already there, except for Albus, and no one knew such a Patronus. This Patronus was now already in front of Black and a scratchy, breathless voice aspirated only one word "Casanova" and the magpie dissolved immediately into smoke and had thus delivered its message. Black's wary glance looked anxious at once, and his face had become very pale. He rose abruptly and rushed out of the room, even before a question could be addressed to him. He left behind a brief, intense silence before the grueling yelling started. What was that? Who was that? Why did Sirius know what it meant? What was meant by "Casanova"? And so on and so on ... blablabla ... why did I always have to persevere in the midst of such idiots? I thought to have a weak idea, but knowing..