As the Wizarding World Turns

Disclaimer: I've swiped a few of J.K.R.'s characters for a bit, but I'll return them shortly through the Floo.

I'd like to thank my lovely beta, Charmed Nay, who always finds time for me and my tales.

"Ugh! Where to start?" Hermione said aloud while pulling the stack towards her.

"I do believe that I said that I wanted to go through those parchments," Snape said, grabbing the other side and trying to pull them towards him.

"No," she countered, "we are going to go through this together. I don't want you keeping it to yourself and have to watch you snicker and laugh like the others." She jutted her chin up slightly. "I am not above reading along with you... if you think you can manage it."

"Very well," Snape agreed. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't move. "I do believe you need to move your chair in this direction and bring the parchments if we are to read together."

"Why should I have to be the one to move?" she retorted. He was quite annoying! Why had she bothered hoping to become friendly with the man?

Before he could reply, a small whooshing sound drew their attention to the side of the room with the fire. A small couch appeared with two sconces hovering above it, lit and glowing brightly, and fluffy pillows and a blanket set on its inviting cushions.

"Why do I get the feeling that there is more to this room than meets the eye?" Snape pondered aloud, moving his chair back with a loud scraping noise. "Come along," he ordered as he grabbed his glass and the bottle of wine.

Hermione snatched another biscuit, her drink, and the parchments before going over to the couch. He'd already settled down on one side, leaving a space and the other side open. How could they read together at opposite ends of the couch? Shrugging, she sat down on her end, placing her wine on the small table that appeared next to her. When she realized that he hadn't budged or scooted closer, she gave him a falsely sweet smile and patted the space next to her. "Slide over if you'd like to read this."

Though he glared slightly, he moved closer, shoulder pressing awkwardly against hers.

She shifted to face him a little and spelled the parchments to hover between them so that they could read.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I have to warn you that this will be... quite lewd. I've read a few sentences, and the scenes depicted may make you feel a little uncomfortable." Her cheeks reddened.

He nodded and confidently said, "I think that, being adults, we will be capable of reading something of this nature without being embarrassed." Even as he said it, two red splotches appeared on his cheeks. "Hopefully," he added as an afterthought.

"All right," she agreed.

"Ah, first... perhaps we should have a little more wine?" he asked, reaching for the bottle to fill their glasses. He snorted. "This bottle has been enchanted to never empty. Interesting."

"Well, we won't die of thirst at least."

"No, but possibly of intoxication," he said with a smirk. "However, I believe I can hold my own."

"I know better than to overindulge," she said cheekily, taking a large gulp of her drink. It's tangy flavor slid down her throat, warming her and making her feel as if she could easily cope with the task before them... and the professor.

Without another word, they began to read the story.

Like sands through the hourglass, so were the days of her life. Hermione Granger, cleverest, brightest, hottest witch of the age, wondered what her life would be like. Her relationship with Ronald Weasley, redheaded, freckle-faced, gangly sidekick to the sexy Boy-Who-Lived-And-Kicked-Some-Ass-Again, was faltering. She could feel it each time she looked at him.

"Ass?" Snape said incredulously, trying to push away the image of Potter beating his foot against a donkey's arse. "This is obviously an American who wrote this!"

"But that doesn't make any sense. There are no American exchange students here."

"What's that to do with anything?" he asked.

"Well, I'd hoped that either Sinistra or Hooch had confiscated this from a student. Surely they didn't have anything to do with its origins."

"Ha!" Snape said sarcastically. "You, apparently, don't know Rolanda very well."

"Well, no, not really. Everyone has been nice, but I've not really gotten too close to anyone." She shrugged. "I don't think Madam Hooch likes me very much, what since I don't like flying much."

"You don't?" he queried, shocked expression.

"It's all right, but I just think Apparition or Floo is much more practical and quicker." She blushed, for the second time in the space of a few minutes. "I've never been all that good at it. I suppose I never thought to try to be better at it because it seemed to be for pleasure. I figured that I knew better ways to please myself." Her eyes widened when she realized how that sounded. "Er... by reading, that is." She exhaled in relief when it seemed that he hadn't even noticed.

"The good part about flying, Professor Granger, is that you can soar above the ground, feel the wind in your hair, leave your probl..." He stopped abruptly. "To each his own, I suppose."

They looked back down at the story.

It wasn't that he was a poor bloke or lived in a hovel with his pitiable family and their pesky ghoul. It wasn't that his arse had taken a turn for the skinny side...she preferred a beefy arse, something a girl could grab and knead and feel the cushiony flesh in her delicate palms. It was the damned Time-Turner incident!

"Ridiculous!" Snape thundered. "Do you see that inconsistency? They've used ass and arse."

"I hope they don't plan on getting published," she huffed. "And how dare they say that I like beefy arses! Why, I..." Her voice trailed away as she noticed his stare. "What?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Well? Do you?"

"I suppose they are all right, but there is nothing wrong with a, ah, smaller arse, now is there?" She cringed internally. She would hex the writer for this. Seeing the amusement on his face, she asked, "What about you?"

Surprised, he stammered, "We-well... I suppose the arse depends upon the person it belongs to."

"Oh, come now, Professor," Hermione said sarcastically, forgetting her nervousness. "You are a man!"

"How nice of you to notice," he said casually. "Did it take you all these years to reach that brilliant deduction?"

"Come off it!" she said. "You know what I mean. Are you saying that you don't care about a woman's outward appearance or even if she's got a good arse? You only look on what she's got up here?" She pointed to her mind.

"Well, no, of course not. Naturally," he said in amusement. "I would never sit down next to some warty hag whom I thought to be intelligent."

Indignantly, Hermione said, "That's what I thought! You're just like the rest of them!"

Losing his slight smile and becoming serious, he said, "I am my own person and do not appreciate being defined by what other men feel or do." He uncrossed his arms and reached for his drink again, taking a sip. "I only mean that if I got to know a woman and liked her for whom she was, her arse wouldn't matter: be it big, small, or nonexistent."

Hermione dared not bring her eyes to meet his again, simply looking back at the parchment.

She'd been arguing with Ron about the way he still looked at Lavender Brown...that nasty whore...when she'd turned around to run off like an annoyed girl and roughly hit a stone wall instead, causing her Time-Turner to activate on its own, sending her back into the past. Time flew by as she'd watched helplessly. When her world had stopped spinning, she'd realized immediately that she wasn't at the Burrow anymore. No, she'd gone back to a time before time: a time of elves, dwarfs, wizards, men, hobbits, and orcs. She'd gone to Middle Earth!

Unable to help herself, as she somehow heard the need of his unspoken words, she began disrobing and offered herself to him...some magical spurt allowed her to suddenly become a natural Legilimens who not only saw thoughts but could also read them. He was worried about an ensuing battle that would be happening as soon as the men of Rohan joined them. Legolas hungrily looked at her body and accepted her offering.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's preposterous! Time-Turners only go back a few hours, not centuries! And I would never just... It's absurd!"

"I've read about these characters already. Tolkien? The fellow that wrote The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit?"

"The same," she said with a sharp nod, chest still heaving in indignation. Without meeting any resistance, she flipped through the next couple of pages. "It's all rubbish about how I used a Disillusionment Spell, remained as a secret lover to Legolas that only he knew about, and helped them win against the Great Eye by whispering strategies to Aragorn before Lord Celeborn was able to magic me back to my time with an elfish gadget." She flipped a few more pages. "Ah, it appears that Legolas followed me home after all his mates went into the west. Since we were back in my time, I opted to be faithful to Ron again, leaving Legolas the chance to go off with Lavender."

Severus shook his head. "Perhaps we can skip over that and begin reading anew?"

"Agreed."

So, yes, Hermione knew that she'd have to eventually end things with Ronald even if she loved him dearly and had given up Legolas to make him happy. She'd lived an entire year away from him while only a few seconds had passed in his world. Therefore, that made her another whole year older than he and Harry. The first extra year older was accumulated during her Time-Turner usage in her third year at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, a flash of long, platinum blond, elegant, silky hair drew her from her musing. Her heart pounded as she thought of Legolas. However, she was surprised...both pleasantly and horrifiedly...to find that it was Lucius Malfoy.

"Is that even a word? Horrifiedly?"

"I think they are not only taking liberties with our lives but with the English language," Severus said. "And what is with those horrid descriptions? Silky hair? Malfoy's hair is very coarse to the touch, I'll have them know!"

"Oh?" Hermione asked in amusement. "Been touching his hair lately?"

He glared at her in annoyance and didn't answer her.

"Oh, Lucius! What ever do you mean by coming here while I am home alone... at night... in the dark?" she asked, biting her lower lip so that a small amount of blood made its way to the surface and glinted in the silvery moonlight.

Lucius nodded. "As I entered, he was leaving with a dreamy-eyed, blonde woman. I am sorry." He patted her on the back. "There, there, my dear." Suddenly, his nose was next to her hair. "Sweet," he murmured. "Such smooth, long and wavy hair. I've always adored it from the moment I first met you, even though you were only near twelve."

"Long and wavy? Smooth?" Severus questioned with a snort. "That mess?" He chuckled as her expression darkened.

"Perhaps my character has had the good taste to use Sleekeazy's or some other product! You know, there is a company called Vanity that's been selling products. Maybe she's bought some!"

"Why haven't you?" he questioned.

"Because I'm happy with my hair, and I shouldn't have to change it to please others," she said in irritation. "There are more important things." Wanting to be as rude as he, she asked, "Why don't you buy any of those products?"

He straightened slightly, offended. "Well, I suppose I'm of the same mind as you on that subject. I feel it unnecessary."

Feeling guilty, she blurted, "It doesn't look bad on you. It suits you." She wanted to roll her eyes. Why the hell did she say that it suited him? That in itself might be an insult, depending on how he took it. She smiled innocently as his narrowed eyes gazed at her.

"I suppose I could say the same for you," he relented momentarily. "But I won't."

That bastard! she fumed internally. She wanted nothing more than to dump her wine on top of his head, giving his hair a dousing, but she decided to down it instead and then hold her empty glass out for him to fill, which he did without a word.

"Lucius, where is your wife? Will she not miss you this night?" Hermione asked, thinking of the haughty, rude, arrogantly beautiful wife the man had.

"It's quite hard for me," he said, continuing his touches even as their clothes suddenly melted away. "It's my best friend that she's taken to seeing. One who's been there with me through thick and thin. Why, I was with him for his first rape, guiding him, joining him. I mentored him properly, showed him how to command attention and escape being scratched by the victim's fingernails." He shook his head sadly. "I don't know how Severus could do this to me."

Snape roared angrily, "How dare this halfwit author imply that I would bed Narcissa!"

Hermione scooted away from him, partly afraid he'd explode in his rage. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, and it looked like spit was flying from his mouth.

"I have never touched her in all the years that I've known her! Lucius would know better than to believe such rubbish!" he said crossly.

"Professor, it's only a story," Hermione said, hoping to soothe him.

His angry eyes landed on hers. "If I find out that you had anything to do with this... if there is some plan to make me look like..." He took a deep breath in attempt to collect himself, unclenching his fists. "There were no rapes or anything of the kind. To think that someone would actually write that angers me!"

"I don't like it either," she put in quickly. "At least they don't have you on your knees in front of him." She nodded to the parchment where he could see that it was indeed what the character Hermione had done to ease Lucius' disappointment. She hoped that her embarrassing situation would relax him.

"As if that would happen anyway!" he said resentfully. "Lucius and a..."

"A what?" Hermione asked, ire building.

"Lucius and a girl your age," he said swiftly.

"You were going to call me a Mudblood, weren't you?" she asked loudly. "I can see it in your eyes!"

"You insufferable little brat," he said in annoyance, "I meant to say that Lucius has always doted on his wife and would never take part in some extramarital scandal or allow her to do so." He looked down at his robes and smoothed some of the rumples absently. "I wouldn't call you a Mudblood."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Professor," she said, mollified and feeling silly for jumping to conclusions. However, part of her wondered if he was being honest. The snide tone he'd been using had led her to believe that he was going to say something hurtful.

He filled his glass with wine again and topped off hers. After he placed it back on the table next to him, he flipped over a couple of pages, skimming them.

"Quite an encounter with Lucius," he commented, brow raised. "Ah, it looks as if you've had second thoughts about Weasley now and have gone to tell him so. The problem is," he said with a smirk, "is that Miss Lovegood has him in her clutches."

"I skimmed some of that already," she said before taking a sip of her wine. "Rubbish. All of it."

"It seems that this writer holds Mr. Weasley's... nether region in high regards. Perhaps he's had a part in writing this, or maybe it's someone who enjoys his company who wrote it?" Snape offered.

"Ha!" Hermione said sarcastically. "Anyone who's been with him knows that he hasn't much down there to... Oh, my... Oh, I didn't mean to say that..."

He waved away her apology. "It's all right. I will not repeat a word of this." Sitting back and grinning nastily, he commented, "It figures he wouldn't be well endowed. I rather think that suits him just fine, the bumbling idiot."

Feeling bold, Hermione held up her thumb and index finger, measuring out a space of a couple of inches between them. "This might sum that up for you... since you seem interested." She was rewarded with deep, rich laughter as he threw back his head and laughed heartily. Her cheeks flushed, as she'd realized exactly how much she'd just told him as to how intimate she'd been with Ron in the past. Part of her also felt a bit guilty about disclosing something so personal. "I shouldn't have done that," she added, reminding herself of Hagrid. Her entire body felt warm, and her head felt light. It had to be the wine.

"Not all men are blessed in that department," he said, laughter ebbing away.

Unfortunately, Hermione's eyes drifted down to his midsection in an instinctual reaction, as if trying to see if he'd been blessed. She tore her eyes away and felt the heat rise in her face. Not wanting to look at him, she sipped on her wine and looked back at the parchment.

"Looks like the chapter has finally come to a close," she said. "Hermione has left Ron and Luna to it in order to search for the perfect man for her. Would you like to go on to the next chapter?"

"I think I might like to stretch a little." He stood and shook away his stiffness.

"I wish there was a loo..." At that moment, a door appeared. "Well, I suppose that's it." She nodded to the doorway. "I'll be right back." To her surprise, he strode forward.

"Let me make certain." He opened the door, looked inside, and then turned back to her. "Seems all right."

"Thanks," she said slipping past him and closing the door. Upon looking in the mirror, she noticed that she seemed to be glowing, eyes alight with mirth, smile curling her lips upward. "Perhaps he's not so bad. I'll just have to learn to deal with his snappish attitude." She hoped that the rest of the story wouldn't continue to be so bad, and she wondered how he played a part in it. She knew he'd make an appearance, as he'd read that sentence about himself earlier. She paused for a moment. "God, what if the person has paired us together?"

Shaking her head, she laughed lightly. "Of course not. Everyone knows that Snape and I haven't anything in common. Then there is the age difference." That didn't stop them from putting you with Lucius Malfoy, a voice nagged. "Bloody hell."

Southern's Notes: Heehee... Sorry, Hermione, but this author certainly would pair you with Snape. Muahaha! This is quite fun. And if there are any oddities that you'd like to see, let me know. I've not touched upon even half the list yet, so I have some more "goodies" coming.