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 20

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 20 ~ Hermione Returns to Hogwarts

Hermione returned to Hogwarts on New Year’s night, Ron accompanying her to the gates. He gave her a gentle kiss and a smile. They hadn’t done anything since the night of his proposal, and Ron was handling it pretty well. In fact, he had really enjoyed being with Hermione for the past few days without any pressure to be the virile wizard he thought he had to be. At least in his mind he was virile. In Hermione’s mind he had just been perpetually randy and selfish. But this sexless week actually made him feel closer to Hermione and gave him a chance to step back and see how lucky he truly was to have her.

Hermione was reminded just how fun and sweet Ron could be over the past few days, and her affection for him returned. They slept together every night, Ron spooned around her jealously, but never making an untoward move, although she could feel his erection through his pajama bottoms some nights. She almost initiated sex between them last night, but didn’t do it. Ron had told her he had talked to Bill and next time they had sex, she’d see some changes in him. But he wouldn’t tell her what kind of changes, and said he was working on “perfecting his technique.”

Hermione hoped he wasn’t practicing his “perfecting” on other witches, but of course he wasn’t. But Bill made him buy some figs to practice his oral sex on. They did look a bit like a pussy with a clit, but brown. With Bill directing him, Ron dutifully practiced applying first the banana lube, then his tongue and other parts.

”Gods, don’t lash it like you’re wielding a whip, Ron! Go easy! Easy!” Bill corrected him. “She has nerve endings down there! Now, use your nose and chin . . . ”

Fleur walked in on them one evening, Ron turning a deep crimson as she looked at the fig in his hand. Ron pulled his tongue in, but not quick enough so the French witch didn’t see it. She looked at Bill and shook her head, then back at the embarrassed Ron.

”You are very lucky, Ronald,” she said with a crooked smile. “You are learning the art at the feet of a Master.”

She winked at Ron, blew Bill a sexy little kiss and left the room, her husband looking after her and unconsciously licking his lips. A Master, eh? He hadn’t known she thought he was that good. He’d have to look into this a bit closer later.

”Lick up,” he said to Ron, still looking after Fleur.

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Hermione walked across the dark grounds of Hogwarts with her wand tip lit, the ghosts of the past rising up to meet her as she remembered the bodies that dotted the grounds long ago on the night of Voldemort’s demise. It felt eerie and haunted out here at night, and she sped up, not being able to shake the feeling she wasn’t alone.

She hurried up the castle steps and pulled on the castle doors. They were locked. When the doors of Hogwarts were locked, a simple Alohamora couldn’t open them. Someone inside had to do let her in. Hermione pulled on a rope dangling next to the doors. She didn’t hear anything when she did so. It was a silent summons from the outside but made quite a noise inside.

She stood there waiting for several minutes, then one of the doors slowly opened. A protuberant pale nose was the first thing she saw sticking out of it.

”Come in, Hermione,” a silken voice purred.

It was Snape. He was dressed in his usual severe black robes, his lank hair, parted in the middle and curtaining his pale, impassive face.

A delicious little thrill shot through the witch’s belly as the dark wizard slowly opened the door, his dark eyes resting on her. Snape showed no emotion as he looked down on her, so it was hard to read him as she entered. She could feel the warmth of his body as she passed within inches of it. She turned.

”Thank you for letting me in,” she said to the wizard, who nodded slightly.

”I thought you might come back a bit earlier,” Snape said softly, searching her face for any signs of discontent. “Have you squared things away with your—fiancée?”

Snape didn’t pull any punches, did he? Hermione knew he wanted to hear some bad news about her and Ron because of what he wanted. Her free to travel the world with him. She began to walk through the entrance hall, Snape gliding beside her. They stopped by the marble staircase that led up to the first floor.

”Yes, I have, Severus. “We’ve . . . we’ve reached an understanding. I don’t think I’m going to take you up on your offer,” she said to him, thinking it would be better not to give him false hope. She had come to the conclusion that Ron was the wiser, safer bet.

Snape’s dark eyes glittered at her.

“Don’t be so hasty to make your decision, Hermione,” he said to her tightly “Gryffindors always make decisions too quickly. You still have until the end of the year to realize the great mistake you’re making, choosing to remain in your safe little cocoon, rather than breaking free to spread your wings and challenge the day. My offer still stands.”

Hermione blinked up at him, their night together coming back to her. Snape’s lips quirked slightly and his eyes became predatory. Maybe she needed a refresher.

”I don’t have to use Legilimency to see your thoughts, Hermione,” he said softly, moving a bit closer to her. “I made quite the impression on you Christmas morning. Perhaps, you would like to come to the dungeons for a private New Year’s celebration. Just you—“

Snape’s finger slowly traced her cheek, leaving a line of heat in its wake that nearly made Hermione tremble.

” –me and the sofa. There will be fireworks, of course.”

Hermione blinked up at him, and he leaned closer as if to kiss her. Suddenly, she pulled back.”

”Stop it. Christmas morning was a—a mistake. You took advantage of my situation,” she said to him.

Snape pulled back, his face contorting.

”You wanted it,” he hissed at her. “Don’t stand here and lie to yourself, Hermione Granger. You loved everything I did to you. How I kissed you, how I touched you . . . and how I took you. You gave yourself over to me because I brought something out of you that had been hidden, repressed. I released you, just as I will do if you follow your heart and come with me.”.

”I am following my heart,” Hermione retorted, moving away from him and mounting the stairs.

”You are following your FEAR!” Snape snarled after her. “You allowed yourself to fall back into the self-made trap you’ve constructed around yourself. I imagine you and your boyfriend had a little ‘heart-to-heart’ and you threatened to leave him, which made him fall to his knees and beg you to stay, making all types of promises to ‘change.’ And of course, you fell for it. People don’t change, Hermione. They start well, but they don’t change. They’re too selfish. Mr. Weasley could go through all the ‘changes’ in the world, but your situation will still be the same. You’ll still be wasting your life staying here.”

”I’m not going with you!” Hermione hissed back at him angrily, walking up the stairs now.

Snape was tempted to run up the stairs and drag her back down and force her to listen to reason. But that was no way to solve this problem.

”I am keeping the offer open,” he called after her.

Hermione stopped and looked at him, deciding to tell him what she really thought.

”You’re wasting your time. I’ve decided to live a safe, normal life with a man I really know. I don’t know you, Severus. You frighten me.”

”I stimulate you,” he said softly. “If I do frighten you, it’s because I make you feel unfamiliar emotions, desires—needs. I make you see who you’re truly meant to be and that’s what frightens you—the idea of daring to become the person you’re meant to be, Hermione. I’m not going to give up on you that easily.”

Hermione blinked down at him, her eyes becoming wet.

”Why? Why can’t you just accept my choice and leave me alone?” she asked him, her voice quavering now.

”Because it is the wrong choice, and I want you with me,” Snape replied silkily. “It isn’t complicated, Hermione. I want you.”

”Well, I don’t want you! You, or anything you’re offering me. You’re the devil, Severus Snape, and if you aren’t, you can still go to him!” Hermione snapped back at him, racing up the stairs and down the first floor corridor.

Snape watched her go, then walked around the stairs and down the dungeon stairwell, his robes billowing as he quickly walked back to his quarters. He could see his breath curling in the flickering torchlight as he walked. It was always cold in the dungeon corridor at this time of year.

So Hermione thought he was the devil, did she? Well, she had no idea. He meant what he said. He wasn’t giving up on the witch. He’d find a way to make her see the mistake she was making choosing to remain in England with Ronald Weasley, never making another mark on the world. She was brilliant and passionate. What a waste it would be if she settled for such a mundane existence. She was meant for bigger, better things, not to be pigeon-holed into the kind of life common witches were satisfied with. Not her. Hermione Granger was as uncommon as they came. She simply was immersed in a life that was unsuitable for a witch of her caliber. Look at who she hung about with.

Ginny Weasley, who was married to Harry. Fleur Weasley, who was married to Bill. And Molly Weasley, who was the worst role model of all for a witch like Hermione. She was the polar opposite of what Hermione was supposed to be. But this is what she saw as “normal” and something to aspire to. Marrying and settling down. Pphttt! She could marry later if she was so set on it. She had two hundred blasted years.

Snape let himself into his office.

He didn’t plan on giving up. There had to be some way to make Hermione see reason.

There just had to be.

The wizard let himself into his study and fixed himself a small Firewhiskey. He sat down in front of the fireplace and began to make his nefarious plans.

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Hermione let herself into her quarters, feeling flustered and out of sorts. She hadn’t been at Hogwarts ten minutes before Snape tried to seduce her, the cad. Who did he think he was, telling her she was making the wrong choice? He wasn’t her father. He wasn’t even her friend. He was a manipulative, self-seeking opportunist who would let the whole world come crashing down around her to get what he wanted. He could hire help. He didn’t really need her. He just wanted her. Well, it wasn’t going to work that way. And just because he knew his way around a woman’s body didn’t mean he could get what he wanted when he wanted. Some things were just unattainable.

Hermione began to undress and get ready for bed. She was too upset to go over her paperwork for the next term one final time, although she’d done it several times already. She pulled on her nightgown and climbed into bed, covering herself up in the thick winter blankets and staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. She tried to think about Ron, but Snape’s pale face kept appearing in her thoughts.

New Year’s celebration indeed. Fireworks. Hmph.

He’d say anything, just anything to try and work his way under her skin again. Sleeping with him had been a mistake. Ron deserved better than that. She wouldn’t betray him again. Severus Snape was just, just a passing weakness. Sooner or later the Potions master would see that, figure out another option and leave her alone.

She had no idea how determined Severus Snape really was.

She’d find out.

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Hermione and the rest of the staff attended a staff meeting the next morning. Students were returning, but classes wouldn’t start until the following day. Snape was at the meeting too. The wizard was silent and brooding and looked as if he’d rather be anyplace else as Minerva droned on about what she expected to be accomplished this term, and the preparation for the upcoming OWLS.

Hermione tried to stay focused on Minerva, but Snape had sat in the same row as she did, except on the far end. It felt as her eyes had magnets in them and were drawn his way. She resisted the urge to look at him directly. The Potions master didn’t even as much as glance in her direction.

”All teachers will be required to attend the Valentine’s Day Dance in order to chaperone the students. Valentine’s Day is the day when the most improprieties are committed by students and we must focus on protecting them from themselves. Severus, I expect you to brew a few gallons of Morning After potion for those students who manage to slip by us,” Minerva directed.

Snape nodded, sighing inwardly. Why not just let them all shag their brains out and add the potion to their meals the next day? That way, he wouldn’t have to attend the blasted dance at all. He looked at Minerva and shook his head slightly at the witch’s constant attempts to thwart nature. If she had her way, every student would arbitrarily have Chastity charms cast on them straight through their seventh year.

Minerva was just wrapping up the meeting when a knock sounded on the staff room door.

”Come in,” Minerva called.

In walked a wizard in a little cap, carrying a bouquet of red roses. Snape’s nose wrinkled unpleasantly as the sweet stench washed over him.

”I have a delivery for Miss Hermione Granger,” the wizard announced. “I was told she was here.”

”I’m Hermione,” Hermione said, standing up and walking down the row, sliding past Severus, who looked up at her as she passed, his eyes narrowed.

All the witches were exclaiming as she took the flowers and read the card.

”Have a good term. Love, Ron.”

”Awww,” she said with a smile as the witches all gathered around her, sniffing the roses.

”How sweet,” Pomona Sprout gushed.

”Your boyfriend must be in the doghouse,” Madam Hooch sniffed.

”Actually he’s not. He sent me these just to send them,” Hermione said. “The note says ‘have a good term.’”

The witches started in again, saying how thoughtful Ron was.

Snape thought he was going to be sick. So, Weasley was doing the whole roses and candy thing. Disgustingly juvenile, and, Snape hated to think it, effective. Hermione was gushing over the blasted flowers as if she’d never seen roses before.

”Minerva,” he called over to the Headmistress, who was exclaiming with the rest of the witches. “Are we done with the meeting?”

”Oh, yes. Of course, Severus. The meeting is closed,” she replied, bending a rose to her nose.

Snape stood up and gingerly navigated the clutch of cackling witches. His dark eyes met Hermione’s for a moment, and the little minx had the nerve to look smug, as if to say, “See how wonderful Ron is?”

Snape snorted in distaste and departed the staff room. Students coming from a late breakfast quickly got out of the wizard’s way as he stalked toward the dungeon entrance.

He’d sent her roses, and she fell for it. Why were witches so stuck on receiving flowers? Didn’t they really know what they stood for? Flowers were little more than aroused plants ready to mate, or in their case, be pollinated. Spread petals represented spread thighs. Getting flowers from a wizard wasn’t about romance. It was about sex, plain and simple.

He let himself into his office, then walked down a short corridor, through the classroom, past his potions store and into his lab. He took out several cauldrons and set them up. He might as well get started on the Morning After potion immediately. It would give him something other to do than brood over Ron’s little romantic gesture. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about the wizard.

Apparently, the blow job hadn’t been enough to make Ron ruin his relationship with Hermione. Snape had been sure he’d say or do something to give himself away or make Hermione break up with him by trying to make her recreate his little tryst. Apparently, the wizard was smarter than that, damn it. Snape Scourgified the cauldrons, then retrieved a large bottle of base to add to each of them, thinking all the while.

Madam Simpers had told him Ron attempted to find out more about the prostitute that blew him at the time, so he must have been quite smitten before returning to his senses. He had no idea who the woman was.

Hm.

A very wicked idea began to percolate in Snape’s brain as he poured the thick liquid into each cauldron, measuring the amount by eye.

He was going to have to talk to Natasha again. He had a plan, not as blatant as his first attempt at making Ron screw up, but definitely more devious. It would probably cost a pretty Galleon, but gaining Hermione would be worth it.

Snape made plans to visit the brothel after supper. There was no time to waste. He needed to drive a wedge between Hermione and Ron as soon as possible.

The Potions master hoped Natasha could make this happen. No doubt, if paid enough—she would.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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