The Burning Pen

Yuleride
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 #

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 2 ~ The Gospel According to Snape

Hermione followed the Potions master down the dungeon corridor. It seemed even colder than the Main Hall, possibly because of the dampness of the area. Snape walked before her, not bothering to look back to see if she were on his heels or not.

Presently, Snape stopped in front of his office. He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowed as he saw Hermione had indeed followed him, then unwarded the door and let himself in, leaving it open for Charms mistress.

The first thing Hermione saw when she entered his office were the horrible things he had floating in jars sitting on shelves mounted on nearly every wall. Why did he surround himself with such terrible things? Snape wasn’t in the office, and Hermione saw an opening in the far wall, the interior black as pitch. Slowly she walked up to it and peered in. She couldn’t see a thing.

”Come in!” Snape snapped as he ignited the floo with his wand. “I need to close the wall or the scant heat my study holds will escape.”

Hermione hurried through the opening, the wall sliding down behind her. She immediately clasped her arms around herself. Scant heat? It was FREEZING! Snape moved away from the floo and with his wand lit two torches resting in sconces on the wall. Now Hermione could see although the light was rather dim.

His study was as austere as the wizard himself. There were only two rather threadbare armchairs in front of the fire, a small table between them, a sofa, a large writing desk and a small liquor cabinet in the corner. Over the fireplace hung the Slytherin crest, a silver serpent resting against a green field and the walls were covered in books, mostly with black and brown covers. There were no portraits or any other decoration.

Hermione stood in the center of the room uncertainly. Snape looked at her for a moment, then walked over to his desk, took out his miniaturized presents and placed them on top of it. He resized them.

”You don’t have a tree,” Hermione said suddenly.

Snape looked at her.

”What are you talking about?” he snapped.

”A Christmas tree. You told Minerva you were going to place your presents under your tree,” Hermione replied.

Snape’s mouth turned down as warmth quickly spread through the room. He must have used some extra charm to distribute the heat.

“Surely you didn’t believe I what I told the Headmistress,” he said to her. “Of course I don’t have a tree. No tree, no ornaments and no stockings hanging over the fireplace waiting to be filled by Father Christmas. I simply didn’t want to go through the aggravation of thanking people for gifts I neither want nor need. Everything will be fed to the fire.”

Hermione scowled at him.

”But they’re gifts that people gave to you, Severus. You shouldn’t destroy them,” the witch said.

Snape gave the witch an unpleasant smirk that was very close to a sneer as he studied her. When he spoke, his voice was full of quiet venom.

”Gifts? You believe these ‘gifts?’ I assure you, Hermione, were it not for Minerva’s ridiculous ‘Gift Exchange’ I would not have received a single present from anyone. I haven’t in all the time I’ve been at Hogwarts. These so-called ‘gifts’ were not given in the true spirit of the season, nor were they accepted for that reason. I took them because I had to take them. It is Christmas under duress. I may have been forced to take them but I don’t have to keep them, nor do I intend to.”

“I would have given you a gift,” Hermione responded, “even if we didn’t have the Gift Exchange.”

Snape let out a short, ugly little laugh.

”Of course you would have. Forgive me for thinking otherwise. Your generosity towards me over the years has been stellar,” he said curtly.

Hermione colored. She had never given Professor Snape a gift in her life. But she worked at Hogwarts now and Hermione would have given each fellow staff member some small gift just because of the season.

”Well, it would have started this year,” she said, trying to defend herself. “I just started at Hogwarts as a fellow staff member. I would have given everyone something.”

Snape looked at her, then pointed imperiously at the chairs in front of the fire.

”Sit down,” he said.

Hermione walked over to the armchairs and gingerly sat down in one. The cushion was lumpy and uncomfortable and she squirmed as Snape walked over to the liquor cabinet and fixed himself a drink without offer the witch anything.

He then joined Hermione in front of the fire, taking the other seat and a sip of his Firewhiskey before placing it on the small table between them and staring into flame.
He didn’t say anything as he ran one slender fingertip over his lips, the firelight catching his eyes.

Hermione watched his profile quietly. The fire put his face in relief, the flickering flames sharpening his hawkish features, giving him a rather sinister cast as light and shadow played across his features. He could have been Satan himself, contemplating the world’s end as he sat there, silent and brooding. Suddenly, he turned his head and looked at Hermione directly.

“I suggest we do a bit of ‘amplification’ concerning your gift. Possibly, you will be able to deduce its meaning yourself, although I am sure several years ago you would have understood it immediately,” the wizard said, a bit of disdain in his voice.

Hermione frowned at the pale wizard slightly. Was he insinuating she no longer had the ability to figure things out as good as she once did? How dare he?

Snape’s mouth quirked at the look of displeasure on the witch’s face and once again he drew a thin finger across his lips.

”Now, Hermione, what is the purpose of a magnifying glass?” he asked her.

”It is used for examination. To enlarge objects so they can be seen clearly,” she responded.

Snape nodded and looked at her expectantly.

“Oh, you gave it to me for my studies,” the witch said.

Snape’s face contorted.

”I can’t believe you’ve become so thick. Obviously your continued association with Ron Weasley has significantly dumbed you down. It’s no surprise really. Association brings assimilation after all,” he said coldly.

Hermione stood up.

”I didn’t come here to be insulted by you, Professor,” she snapped at him. “Just give me a straight answer . . . or forget it!”

”Sit down!” the wizard suddenly snarled at her, his eyes going a bit wild.

Hermione quickly dropped into the seat, frightened by the sudden violent outburst.

”You were the one who followed me down here seeking answers,” the Potions master told her, forcing himself to calm. “You were the one who wanted to be told the mystery. Now you stand here making threats to dismiss what I have to say? You have gall. Now be quiet and listen.”

Hermione stared at him, saying nothing as the wizard visibly drew a calming breath.

”You were once the most promising student at Hogwarts,” he began. “You were brilliant, inquisitive, a seeker of knowledge. Not only that, but you were . . . brave. You took risks. You met every challenge that came your way. It seemed you were going to become someone of consequence. Now look at you.”

The wizard’s voice was full of scorn as he said this. Hermione scowled at him.

”What’s wrong with me? I’m doing fine. I have a good job, I’m teaching students, sharing my knowledge and skill, accomplishing something,” she said, “I’m satisfied with my life.”

“Satisfied?” Snape said disparagingly, “You’ve settled. I gave you that magnifying glass so you would get a clue and examine your life. You’re wasting it.”

Hermione stared at him, then stood up.

”I don’t have to listen to this! Who are you to tell me what’s wrong with my life? I’m leaving this instant,” she said, walking around the chair and heading for the wall that opened on his office.

Suddenly Snape was out of his chair, one hand locked around the witch’s upper arm. Hermione gasped as he drew her back, leaning down until his pale, contorted face was just an inch from her own, his beak of a nose almost touching hers. There was a frightening gleam in his eyes.

”You came to my rooms under your own steam, wanting answers. Now that you are here and have taken up my time, you will listen,” he hissed at her. “You will listen to everything I have to say to you. Now, sit down!”

Snape reached into her robes pocket and pulled out her wand, then pushed her toward the chairs. Hermione stumbled forward and spun to look at him.

“I said SIT DOWN!” he roared at her.

Hermione quickly took a seat.

Snape pocketed Hermione’s wand, then stood there, trying to recover. He was shaking and his face a bit paler than usual. Hermione had heard how the wizard could lose it, but had never witnessed it for herself until this moment. It was terrifying.

After a moment, the wizard walked around the armchair, picked up his drink and downed it in entirety, Hermione looking up at him with scared eyes. He stared over the glass at her, then slowly put it down on the table.

“Now that you are properly seated, we can continue. I will speak, you . . . will listen,” the wizard said quietly.

Hermione said nothing, but her heart was pounding. Yes, she’d listen. She’d do what she had to in order to get out of the wizard’s room in one piece. It had been a mistake to come here.

“During Voldemort’s reign, you were quite important in thwarting the wizard time and time again. No matter the danger, you faced it, met it and in the end, conquered it. You met challenges, Hermione, you met life full on. Now, look at you. Since the Dark Lord’s death you’ve retreated into a ‘safe’ little world. You’ve ceased to challenge yourself, or to grow after you left Hogwarts,” he said to the witch.

”What do you mean? Teaching students is challenging,” Hermione said in her own defense. “And I still read and study. I learn new things all the time.”

“Ah yes. And do nothing with it. There are more than mental challenges in life, Hermione. There are emotional challenges . . . and physical. When was the last time you did something that made your heart race? Something you knew was dangerous and wrong, but would be right to do? When was the last time you felt fear?”

”Fear? When was the last time I felt fear? Tonight. When you went ballistic on me,” she replied, scowling at the wizard. She felt braver now that he was being more reasonable.

”Don’t be cheeky!” Snape snapped at her. “I am speaking about the kind of exhilarating fear that comes from taking a risk, from daring to do something that might not end well.”

”It’s been a long time. The Dark Lord is gone and the Death Eaters disbanded. There’s nothing to fear now,” Hermione replied.

Snape looked at her, then began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, Hermione’s eyes following him.

“You live in a world of fear and don’t even realize it,” he said to her. “Your entire life is a testament to that fear.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Hermione snapped at him.

“You’re afraid of EVERYTHING,” Snape snapped back at her, drawing close for a moment, his robes fluttering around his thin frame. “And I can prove it to you.”

Now Hermione folded her arms and sat back in the chair, one eyebrow arched at the pale wizard standing before her, claiming to know something about her that she did not. He was mad. He knew nothing. Nothing.

”Go ahead then, Severus. Prove it to me,” she said.

Snape could hear the challenge in her voice.

“The kind of fear that surrounds you, is a coward’s fear, Hermione. You have become a coward. Everything in your life is safe, comfortable. Take for example, your relationship with Ronald Weasley. Your ‘childhood sweetheart.’ Why are you with him?” Snape asked her pointedly.

Hermione blinked at him.

”I’m with Ron because I care about him,” Hermione replied.

”Care about him?” Snape spat as if spitting out poison. “You have nothing in common with him. You are with him because you think you’re supposed to be, because you became more than friends after the Dark Lord’s demise. You’ve never once strayed, never once sought out anyone else, and never once tested your emotions. Most young women your age go through several beaus before settling down with one. But not you. Oh no. It ‘wouldn’t be right’ to expand your horizons. You are afraid to do so; afraid to set out on your own and find out if there is someone more suitable.”

”I’m not afraid of anything like that,” Hermione retorted, although she felt a little twinge inside at the wizard’s words. There had been times she wanted to break it off with Ron, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. So many people thought they should be together. Plus, she would lose him as a friend. As long as she was with Ron, she had somebody.

“So, you mean to tell me you want to continue with a man whose only desire is to eventually turn you into a clone of his mother?” Snape said to her silkily, “Ronald Weasley wants a house frau. A houseful of red-headed children and a frayed, harried wife whose main article of clothing is an apron covered in gravy. But he’s ‘safe’ isn’t he? Familiar. By staying with Mr. Weasley you don’t have to risk being alone. You don’t have to take the chance of ‘being hurt’ by someone else. You’ve given up part of your life for a man who will never appreciate you for who you are.”

”Ron appreciates me,” Hermione said softly.

”I bet he won’t even allow you to read a book when he’s present,” Snape said.

Hermione blinked at him, but said nothing.

”And all he talks about is Quidditch or something else that you have no interest in,” the Potions master continued. “You can’t even have an invigorating conversation with him. More than likely everything you discuss centers around him. But still, you stay. You stay because you don’t want to take the risk of emotional upheaval. Do you see this? Can you? That is FEAR, Hermione. Plain and simple. I doubt you even love him.”

Hermione shifted in her chair a bit, not meeting the wizard’s eyes, which narrowed as he recognized the look of someone who’d been found out.

”And I don’t believe he makes your heart race,” the wizard added, staring down at the witch. “How could he when you  are so familiar with each other? It’s almost an incestuous relationship, a brother and sister engaging in intimacy.”

”How dare you!” Hermione suddenly yelled at the wizard.

”I dare because I don’t want to see a brilliant witch throw her life away because she is too much of a coward to live her life to the fullest. Don’t you miss it, witch? The excitement, the challenge? You’re not meant to be tied down this way . . . your mind is a treasure that should be spent gathering even more rich knowledge. And it is atrophying. Although you are a good teacher, you were meant for something better than this. But you accept this tame, unexciting life because you’ve settled. You’ve pushed your hunger down. You need to realize this,” the Professor said.

Suddenly Hermione lashed out at him.

”Why do you even care? You don’t care about anyone, Severus. What do you care if I do become a house frau or stay at Hogwarts for the rest of my life?” she cried, clenching her hands into fists.

Snape looked at her.

”I care, Hermione, because I see something in you dying. Physical death would be better in your case. Your bravery, your courage and your fearlessness is slowly being drained from you by a life of mediocrity. I know this simply because I too am suffering from that drainage,” the wizard admitted.

Snape sat down in the chair beside Hermione and stared into the flames of the fireplace again, his oily hair framing his face so the only thing she could see in profile was his enormous nose.

”It’s been five years since the Dark Lord’s death, and for five years I have lived here, teaching. I never realized that my being a spy kept me . . . from sinking into a life of despair. Yes, I cursed both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord for my predicament but the truth was that danger kept me going. The situations, the danger of discovery, the plots and plans. The threat of death. The challenge of surviving day to day. That was my balm, my reason for existence. Now I no longer have that,” he said softly. ”I miss it.”

Hermione stared at the wizard. He missed his life of danger? Yes, it could be possible. He had been a spy for years. He served a purpose, that purpose was protecting Harry and bringing about the Dark Lord’s demise. Now it was over and he was just a teacher. That was quite a fall.

Snape suddenly looked at her sharply.

”But I haven’t accepted it. I refuse to,” he said to her, iron in his voice. “I have a plan. A plan that . . . would involve you. But not this you, Hermione. The you that you once were. The daring Gryffindor that would face any danger. You see, you are different than Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley . . .”

The Potions master’s face contorted as he spoke Harry’s name and his next words were full of loathing.

“Everyone still speaks about his courage and bravery, when the truth was he never sought out danger. It came to him. He had no choice but to face them, to fight for his life. Death followed him wherever he went. There was no escape, nothing to do other than try to deal with it. He was simply trying to save his own life. Oh, eventually it became a crusade. ‘Voldemort is evil and must die.’ That was orchestrated by Dumbledore. But you, Hermione, you faced danger because you had courage. You could have been like the majority of Hogwarts’ students and let Potter face his challenges himself. But you didn’t. You involved yourself and nearly died because of it, knowing it was possible you could die. But you walked into that dragon’s den anyway. You weren’t a hanger-on like Weasley, or a Judy-Come-Lately like those students who joined Dumbledore’s Army and joined not out of any true desire to fight Voldemort but out of frustration with Delores Umbrage’s teaching methods. You were there from the first and what you accomplished mattered,” the wizard told her.

”Ron wasn’t a . . .” Hermione began

“He was. Don’t you remember when Potter was a Tri-wizard champion? How jealous Weasley was because he coveted the position himself? I got a good laugh from that for weeks before they patched things up. I imagine you have never been jealous of Harry,” Snape said to her, running his finger over his lip once again.

”No. I felt sorry for him really. He had so much to face,” she said softly.

”That is because your motives were sincere. You wanted to help him because of that danger, and not for glory. That wasn’t the case with Weasley. He wanted to be important. You wanted to help,” Snape replied. “And Weasley is still riding the robes of those who are exemplary. He’s shagging the most brilliant witch in the Wizarding World. Hermione Granger and offering her nothing in return but the promise of a life full of dull routine, just as this job as Charms mistress. You deserve more than that. Don’t accept this ‘safe’ situation you find yourself in, or it will drain your soul from you as surely as a Dementor’s kiss. Examine your life and fix it before it is too late.”

Hermione stared at the wizard, feeling as if a huge, heavy stone was inside her belly. He made her feel so . . . so dissatisfied. Now a life that seemed fine seemed almost like a prison. But he didn’t really care about her life simply to care. He said he had a plan that involved her. What was it?

”Severus, you said you had a plan, one that could involve me,” she said to the dark wizard. “What is it?”

Snape’s lips pursed slightly.

”I plan to resign my position as Potions professor at the end of this term. I am leaving Hogwarts,” he said as Hermione’s eyes widened. “This dull existence has finally taken its toll and I can no longer bear it. I have been receiving residuals for my original potions for years and have amassed quite a large sum of money due to my thriftiness . . . “

Hermione thought the word "miserliness" would be a better description, judging by his quarters.

”. . .and I plan to travel the world seeking out fabled potions and elixirs. I need someone with me, someone who can help me locate and study these potions. Someone who is good at defensive magic, and doesn’t mind breaking a few rules in the name of knowledge. Someone who won’t break and run when the situation becomes dangerous. In short, Hermione, I need you.”

Hermione stared at the wizard. He was going to travel the world?

How exciting!

Hermione didn’t say anything but Snape could see a glimmer of the old Hermione in her brown eyes. The one who loved challenge and adventure. He stood up and walked over to his desk, pushing the gifts to one side then opening the drawer and taking out a large rolled parchment. He pulled out his wand and lit a torch behind him for more light.

”Come take a look at this, Hermione,” he said, unrolling the parchment and spreading it on the desk. He used four gifts to hold down the corners.

Hermione rose, walked over to the desk and stood next to Snape, looking down at the parchment. It was a map of the world, areas of it circled in red ink, and small cramped writing was scrawled next to the circles.

“This is a map of the places I plan to explore and the potions I intend to find,” he said, his black eyes resting on the map longingly.

Hermione studied the map. The Himalayas, South America, Egypt, Sumatra, the Easter Islands . . .

Hermione started, then looked at Snape.

”Lemuria? The land of Mu? I always thought that was a fable. And besides, didn’t it sink?” she asked him.

”Only parts of it. It exists,” the wizard said, staring at the map and running a finger over the circled area. “But it will take magic to access it. It is well protected and . . . ”

Here he looked at Hermione with glittering black eyes.

“ . . . they don’t like strangers.”

Hermione swallowed and looked back at the map. There had to be at least two hundred places circled. Enough exploration to last a lifetime. Snape took full advantage of her interest.

“Read the names of the potions that are claimed to be in these areas,” the wizard purred at the witch, his voice silken and a bit hypnotic. “Read the properties. Take your time.”

Hermione slowly sank down into his swivel chair, completely mesmerized by the map and the small cramped writing scrawled all over it. Snape smirked at her behind her back, then retrieved his glass and walked to the liquor cabinet to fix himself another drink.

The bait was dangling before the witch, and judging by her small exclamations, Hermione found it tantalizing. Snape took a sip of his Firewhiskey and watched her with narrowed, calculating eyes.

Now, if only she’d bite.

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A/N: Ooh. The Bait. Lol. I dipped a bit into another story “A Long Way Back” and revived the “traveling the world” aspect.  I also grabbed Lemuria from "The Ring." I imagine Hermione would love to travel the world . . . but . . . she miiiight just need a little “persuading” from the Potions master. Heh heh. Thanks for reading.

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