The Burning Pen

A New Beginning
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 35

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 35 ~ Two Shocking Developments

The next morning, Hermione awoke and headed for the exercise room. Since her foray through the area with Professor Snape, she had taken to either going for a morning walk or walking on the treadmill to increase her stamina. It also tightened up the rather loose places on her hips and thighs, though she was still thick.

Dressed in a loose cotton sweat suit with trainers, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a towel wrapped around her neck, she entered the room to find Professor Snape, dressed in a black t-shirt, sweatpants and trainers, jogging on one of the treadmills. His hair was stuck to his head and there was perspiration down his back. Apparently he had been at it for some time. Probably working off some stress.

She walked up to him.

”Good morning, Professor,” she said to the wizard, who slowed to a walk, picking up the towel off the bar and wiping his face with it. He was breathing a bit heavily.

”Good morning, Hermione,” he said, looking at her critically as he walked. “You aren’t dressed for your strenuous morning dip in the Jacuzzi.”

“No, I’m not. I’m doing the treadmill this morning,” she said loftily, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice.

But Hermione didn’t feel lofty. She was curious as hell as to what happened yesterday and why the wizard did what he did. But she played it cool as she rested the towel on the handle of the closest treadmill, adjusted the setting and got on, beginning to walk and matching the wizard’s pace.

After a minute or two of silence, Hermione said, “I met Rod yesterday at Hogwarts. He seems like a nice boy.”

”He’s an idiot,” Snape replied.

Hermione scowled.

”Well, idiot or not, he saved Rose. Thank you for getting him off. I saw the article in the Prophet. I don’t believe it for a minute,” the witch said.

The Professor didn’t reply at first, then said, “There’s no need to thank me, Hermione. As I said in the letter, he did me a service by saving your daughter.”

Hermione harrumphed.

”Professor, there was no reason for you to go down to the Ministry and reveal yourself. Sending Bartleby was more than enough,” she said to the wizard, who stopped walking.

”You said you wanted the boy helped,” he said to the witch, frowning, “I presumed that meant you wanted him to be freed.”

Hermione blinked at him.

”Well, I did,” she said.

Snape began to walk again.

”He wasn’t cooperating with Bartleby. He needed to talk to someone who he had something in common with,” the Potions master said.

Hermione frowned at him. That boy had nothing in common with the Professor as far as she could see, except maybe that he was in Slytherin house. She was pretty sure that John Bartleby was a Slytherin too. He seemed like the type.

“What, being a Slytherin?” she asked the wizard.

”No,” Snape replied, “Being familiar with Lord Voldemort.”

Hermione stopped walking.

”What? Voldemort was dead before Rod was even born! How could he know anything about the Dark Lord?” she demanded.

”It seems your friend Mr. Potter acted with his usual deplorable idiocy and inadvertently provided Mr. Dormer with access to the Resurrection Stone, which he then used to summon the spirit of the Dark Lord,” the Potions master said.

”What?” Hermione exclaimed.

Snape patiently explained, peppered with a number of disparaging remarks about Harry’s brain capacity, how Harry threw the stone into the lake at the Giant Squid which then knocked it to the shore were Rod was standing and how the boy used it to summon the Dark Lord.

”But he didn’t even know the Dark Lord. How could he summon him?” Hermione asked.

Snape looked thoughtful.

”I considered that. Mr. Dormers has had a less than stellar run at Hogwarts. He was an orphan, arbitrarily placed in Slytherin house without being sorted there, didn’t have a proper wand and had to work menial jobs to keep his place at the school. With poor grades, poor spell work and no friends to speak of, Mr. Dormers was treated with very little respect by his peers. He had no power. He had no one person he wanted to see. His deepest desire must have been for the acquisition of power and respect. When he turned the stone, Voldemort appeared in a very weakened state, a state that physically represented Rod’s own state of power. His sympathetic nature strengthened Voldemort and they became ‘friends’ with Voldemort helping him to acquire a wand and promising to show him how to gain respect,” the wizard said as Hermione covered her mouth with her hand.

”Oh my gods,” she breathed, “He was influencing Rod wasn’t he?”

Snape smirked slightly.

”He tried to, but luckily Mr. Dormers had his own mind concerning what he would and wouldn’t do to get respect. I believe the bottom line was the boy needed to respect himself more than have others respect him. He was happy with simple improvements and needed no more, though he did succumb to dueling three other Slytherins in order to learn the Locomordres spell. Which was quite fortunate for your daughter,” the Potions master said.

“So how did you get him to talk?” Hermione asked the wizard.

”I gave him a Pensieve of the Dark Lord’s history. He viewed it from my standpoint and I added ‘highlights.’”

Hermione paled slightly as she imagined what the Professor’s idea of highlights must have been.

“Once he knew who his ‘friend’ really was, he terminated the friendship and told me everything,” the wizard said.

“What happened to the Resurrection Stone?” Hermione asked.

”Given to the Unspeakables. It is safe,” Snape replied.

Hermione fell silent, looking at the wizard . . . staring at him in fact.

Snape, who was still walking slowed and frowned at her.

”What?” he asked the witch.

“Now they know you’re alive, Professor. What’s going to happen now?” she asked him quietly.

“I am to be subjected to a ‘Public Coming Out’ tomorrow. A large stage will be erected and dignitaries invited. Then, at the proper time, the Minister will give a speech on how he tirelessly looked for someone all these years and was finally successful. Then he will introduce me, I will give him all praise due him, then give a speech,” the Potions master said, looking as if he had bitten into something quite nasty.

“This is all my fault,” Hermione said contritely.

The Potions master stopped walking.

”No, this is not your fault, Hermione,” he said softly, his dark eyes resting on her.

Hermione met his eyes.

”No?” she responded, just as softly.

“No,” he replied, “Actually, I blame your children.”

”What?” Hermione yelled at him. “My children? How can you blame my children for this?”

”Easily,” he said, stepping off the treadmill and wiping off his face and neck, smirking slightly as Hermione picked up her pace, clearly pissed off at his statement. “Your son climbing up that mountain and almost breaking his neck caused me to reveal myself to you, and your daughter ripping about the Quidditch pitch and nearly getting herself murdered for being a good player had the result of me having to speak to Mr. Dormer personally in order to keep him out of Azkaban. So you see, they are the catalysts that sparked me exposing myself in both instances. I am not surprised however, considering their parentage. Children with the surnames of Weasley, Granger as well as Potter gave me no end of grief long before their progeny were conceived. History is wont to repeat itself given enough time. I simply have a twenty-year cycle.”

Hermione stopped walking and stared at the wizard for a moment before bursting out in hysterical laughter, tears rolling down her face as the Professor looked at her soberly.

”I’m glad to know someone thinks this funny,” he said.

Hermione straightened with an effort, wiping at her eyes and getting her laughter under control.

”It’s . . . it’s not that it’s funny, Professor. I’m . . . I’m just amazed at the lengths you’ll go to in order to try and hide the fact that you genuinely care about people,” the witch said, “I know that you went down to the Ministry to help Rod because I wanted you to. I don’t care what you wrote in that letter. Just as I know you saved Hugo because he was in danger, not to keep me from taking a leave to arrange his funeral. You are a decent wizard, Severus Snape, and you can’t hide that from me,” she said to him, sobering.

The wizard couldn’t help but wonder how ‘decent’ Hermione would think he was if she knew he had designs on a woman who was still in mourning for her dead husband. If she knew he was interested in her in a way not remotely related to a working relationship.

”Don’t presume to know how ‘decent’ a man I am, Hermione,” he said to her silkily, “You may find out just how wrong you are. I do nothing without a reason. Nothing.”

“What possible reason could you have for helping Rod other than to help me?” she asked the wizard.

Snape looked at her, his heart beginning to pound and his palms becoming just a tad wet. Again, this was like Lily all over again, the wizard finding himself in a position to make his feelings known. But with Lily, he would always falter, always let the moment pass, afraid of rejection.

He wouldn’t let it happen like that again.

“This reason, Hermione,” the wizard said quietly, stepping up to the treadmill, leaning slightly and kissing the witch softly and rather quickly on the mouth. He pulled back, his dark eyes searching her face for a moment, then strode out of the exercise room without a word, leaving a shocked Hermione staring after him.

The door closed behind him and Hermione reflexively brought her hand to her mouth where his lips had touched hers. She began to shake.

Dear gods. She’d just been kissed by Severus Snape.

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Students and teachers were all gathered in the Great Hall for Rod’s Award Ceremony. Rod sat on the dais nervously in his best dress robes, his hair neatly combed and palms sweating. He didn’t have on a House tie. Four of them rested on a small table to the right. He would select the proper one after being sorted.

A stool was set up in the center of the dais, the ratty old Sorting Hat resting on it. Rod could hardly hear what the Headmaster was saying, the blood was pounding in his ears so hard. Everyone’s eyes were on him. He had never been scrutinized like this in his life. It was as if everyone in the world were judging him. He knew he was supposed to be receiving honors for his deed, but he felt more as if he were heading for the gallows. What house would he be sorted into.

Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were also hoping Rod would be sorted in. He had been awarded two hundred points for saving Rose, who was sitting in the front row, her head still bandaged, Madam Peabody scowling next to her. The medi-witch didn’t want her to attend the ceremony, but Rose protested so much it became detrimental, so the witch brought her down.

”The moment it’s over, back you go, Miss Weasley,” the witch groused as they entered the Great Hall.

Rod was vaguely aware of being pushed from behind. He half turned and saw Hagrid poking him with a huge finger.

”Get up thar,” the gray-haired half-giant hissed.

Rod looked to see the Headmaster holding up a golden medal on a ribbon, and hurried from the chair, stumbling a bit as he almost ran across the dais. A few snickers rose from the audience d as he stopped in front of Wumblewort, who frowned at him slightly before placing the medal over his head.

“I present you with the Hogwarts Medal of Incomparable Service,” the wizard intoned, “For saving the life of a fellow student.”.

”Thank you, sir,” Rod mumbled as applause broke out.

He looked toward Rose, who was clapping and giving him a bright smile. He felt a bit heartened as he looked at her. Hugo stood up on the bench and whistled loudly before his housemates pulled him down.

“Go Rod! Yeah!” he yelled, smiling broadly and continuing to clap.

Those seated at the Slytherin table clapped half-heartedly. It was bad enough Rod had cost them the last Quidditch game, but now he was going to give the points he received to another house. Talk about insult to injury.

“Now,” said Wumblewort importantly, “We come to the most interesting part of this ceremony. The Sorting of Rod Dolmer Dormers. Many of you were not aware that Mr. Dormers entered Hogwarts as a part of a program for students without resources and was never actually sorted into a house. Each house is required to accept said students to keep the distribution fair. Slytherin accepted Mr. Dormers. Yet, he has requested this Sorting to find out which house he would have been placed in if he had the opportunity.”

The Headmaster lifted the Sorting Hat off of the stool.

”Please take a seat, Mr. Dormers,” he said to the boy.

Rod sat down, his eyes turning upwards as the wizard held the dirty old hat over his head. He looked inside the dark hollow before it was lowered on his head. The entire Hall was silent. It was as if everyone were holding their breath as the Hat came to life twitching. Rod could hear it talking to itself.

”Hm. You’re a hard worker, but only when it is of benefit to you in some way. You aren’t dumb, indeed you have a quick mind, able of reasoning logically when required. You are courageous, but will only extend that courage after careful consideration. You do not rush into anything. You are also quite secretive and will not reveal anything that you deem detrimental to your own advancement. You are motivated by your own needs, and do what you must do to accomplish your goals despite the opinions of others . . . therefore …you belong in . . .

”Slytherin!” the Hat shouted.

This proclamation was met with stunned silence. Then the Slytherin table went wild.

Rod Dolmer Dormers was a Slytherin after all.

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A/N: Whoa. Lol. An unexpected kiss and an unexpected Sorting. Thanks for reading.

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