ayerf (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ayerf) wrote,@ 2008-06-05 10:35:00 |
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A rather belated birthday present
The prompt: Hermione/Severus of course, and karaoke (crack!fic authorised ;)
AN: Um, not exactly crack, but certainly not serious. Thanks tokribu for giving this a look over.
*
Fawkes, as an overgrown flashy songbird, was the most reliable judge in Hogwarts as to what could be called good singing. He was also far more impartial than any human. Severus had to admit that Fawkes was virtually impossible to bribe, so he grudgingly agreed to Hermione’s suggestion that the occasionally flaming turkey judge their song contest. Carry-oh-key, or whatever she’d called it.
The idea was to settle a bet on the final Quidditch game of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Typically, Severus had wagered that Slytherin would win. Hermione had scoffed at that. Just because Harry was long gone from the team didn’t mean that Slytherin was guaranteed to win. As it turned out, it wasn’t. But neither was Gryffindor. The result was a draw, caused by the Seekers catching the Snitch at the same time.
Unfortunately there was no way to settle that draw (and the bet) with a simple bout of Hunt the Snitch, as the Seekers also crashed into each other, shattering bones comprehensively in the process. They’d be in the hospital wing until the end of term.
Neither Severus nor Hermione was prepared to forfeit the prize of having the other at their command for nights of hot se— um, for a week as their personal slave. His suggestion of a coin toss to settle the issue almost got him canaried; Hermione was well aware that Galleons were weighted to land heads up.
Severus knew he really shouldn’t have asked if she had any better ideas. Just when she’d seemed stumped, she’d suggested this infernal contest. It had been a worse idea to refuse.
“Scared?”
“Of course not!”
“Prove it.”
But now that he’d sung his piece, he was confident that he had Hermione in the bed— in the bag, even. His singing voice, usually a pleasant baritone, had been smoothed to perfection by a potion of his own devising, intended to soothe sore throats. Taken in a cup of coffee, Hermione was none the wiser – she hated the deep black ambrosia.
Sure of his impending victory, Severus smirked over at Hermione. Then she opened her mouth and started to sing.
It was only after she stopped singing along to the utterly unworthy background music that he realised that his mouth was wide open, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hermione had the voice of an angel.
Fawkes fluttered over, signifying his choice by landing on Hermione’s shoulder.
She looked expectantly over at Severus. “Well?”
“You win,” he croaked. “But why did you stop singing?” Something was nagging at the back of his mind. Something wasn’t right … “Please, sing again.”
“You’d better make it worth my while,” Hermione grumbled, but acquiesced.
Severus was shaken out of her sublime-singing voice induced daze by the recollection of what had bothered him. He’d overheard her singing in the shower before, although singing wasn’t really the right word for it …
“Finite Incantatem.”
Fawkes took flight, shrieking, joining in the racket that could only be called singing by a tone deaf person. Someone like Hermione, the cheat.
His hands clamped over his ears, Severus winced. Perhaps salvaging his pride had been a mistake. But then again … His eyes roamed up and down Hermione. She might not naturally have the voice of an angel, but she did have the body of one.
The prompt: Hermione/Severus of course, and karaoke (crack!fic authorised ;)
AN: Um, not exactly crack, but certainly not serious. Thanks to
kribu for giving this a look over.*
Fawkes, as an overgrown flashy songbird, was the most reliable judge in Hogwarts as to what could be called good singing. He was also far more impartial than any human. Severus had to admit that Fawkes was virtually impossible to bribe, so he grudgingly agreed to Hermione’s suggestion that the occasionally flaming turkey judge their song contest. Carry-oh-key, or whatever she’d called it.
The idea was to settle a bet on the final Quidditch game of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Typically, Severus had wagered that Slytherin would win. Hermione had scoffed at that. Just because Harry was long gone from the team didn’t mean that Slytherin was guaranteed to win. As it turned out, it wasn’t. But neither was Gryffindor. The result was a draw, caused by the Seekers catching the Snitch at the same time.
Unfortunately there was no way to settle that draw (and the bet) with a simple bout of Hunt the Snitch, as the Seekers also crashed into each other, shattering bones comprehensively in the process. They’d be in the hospital wing until the end of term.
Neither Severus nor Hermione was prepared to forfeit the prize of having the other at their command for nights of hot se— um, for a week as their personal slave. His suggestion of a coin toss to settle the issue almost got him canaried; Hermione was well aware that Galleons were weighted to land heads up.
Severus knew he really shouldn’t have asked if she had any better ideas. Just when she’d seemed stumped, she’d suggested this infernal contest. It had been a worse idea to refuse.
“Scared?”
“Of course not!”
“Prove it.”
But now that he’d sung his piece, he was confident that he had Hermione in the bed— in the bag, even. His singing voice, usually a pleasant baritone, had been smoothed to perfection by a potion of his own devising, intended to soothe sore throats. Taken in a cup of coffee, Hermione was none the wiser – she hated the deep black ambrosia.
Sure of his impending victory, Severus smirked over at Hermione. Then she opened her mouth and started to sing.
It was only after she stopped singing along to the utterly unworthy background music that he realised that his mouth was wide open, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hermione had the voice of an angel.
Fawkes fluttered over, signifying his choice by landing on Hermione’s shoulder.
She looked expectantly over at Severus. “Well?”
“You win,” he croaked. “But why did you stop singing?” Something was nagging at the back of his mind. Something wasn’t right … “Please, sing again.”
“You’d better make it worth my while,” Hermione grumbled, but acquiesced.
Severus was shaken out of her sublime-singing voice induced daze by the recollection of what had bothered him. He’d overheard her singing in the shower before, although singing wasn’t really the right word for it …
“Finite Incantatem.”
Fawkes took flight, shrieking, joining in the racket that could only be called singing by a tone deaf person. Someone like Hermione, the cheat.
His hands clamped over his ears, Severus winced. Perhaps salvaging his pride had been a mistake. But then again … His eyes roamed up and down Hermione. She might not naturally have the voice of an angel, but she did have the body of one.