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 31

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 31 ~ At Last an Answer

Hermione didn’t resist what was happening. Like Severus, she was compelled to receive his kiss, here under the stars and moon, here in the shadows of the pyramids, here before the undulating Nile. It wasn’t real. Not the stars or moon or the monuments of Egypt. It was at most a fervent wish made visible, a dream revealed to the naked eye, a requirement not yet met.

All that was real was the wizard embracing Hermione and the urgency she felt as he claimed her mouth, his kiss soft and hungry; his body shifting against hers, lean, and familiar. As desire took the witch over, her last logical thought was only a moment before Severus had been ice, but now—now he was fire and promise and need.

Such a searing need. He was so unpredictable and volatile.

So—sexual. So irresistible here in this setting. It felt right and she could no more stop what was happening between them anymore than she could stop the world from spinning on its axis.

Snape drank in Hermione’s unresisting lips as if starved for sustenance. He suckled them, first the upper, then the lower, savoring their softness, their surrender, and the surrender of her body as it pressed against his. Hungering for more, he slipped his tongue between those succulent lips, tasting her flavor, her heat as he lapped at her mouth, his head moving sensuously as he lost himself in her acceptance.

Around them, the perspective of the ROR changed. Now, they stood in the midst of the desert, the moon shining down on them, bathing them in pale light as they continued kissing, Snape’s hands caressing Hermione gently and reverently. Around them were gathered the pyramids and Sphinx, the Nile rippling gently, adding a fluid rhythm to the night. It was as if they were all bearing witness to their communion.

A large pile of brightly colored cushions and pillows appeared next to the couple, some tasseled, some silken, some patterned, all firm and inviting under the sky. Snape, whose eyes were partially opened, saw the makeshift pillows and knew what was next. He stopped kissing Hermione, whose lips were still pursed, her brown eyes heated as she looked up at him, slightly confused as to why he stopped.

”Under the night sky,” Snape said softly, his voice rather raw as he swept her up into his arms, took three steps and laid her down among the pillows, then knelt down and removed her shoes.

His black eyes rested on her face, watching for the slightest sign of protest. There was none. The wizard carelessly tossed the shoes into the sand and slowly climbed into the mass of pillows, letting one pale hand slide up Hermione’s calf and thigh, under her dress, and over her hip, his eyes liquid as he stared down at her.

”Do you see how it could be, Hermione?” he crooned. “Not only will I take you to other lands, but I will take you as far as it is humanly possible under the stars. Just you and I, witch. Come with me.”

He kissed her again, all the longing he felt pooled in his kiss. He felt Hermione’s arms encircle him and his desire flared as he hardened. She was no Lily Evans. Lily Evans never welcomed him this way, not once. Hope filled his heart and he felt the tightness of the swell for a moment, before that cold, constricted part of him warmed and expanded almost painfully. He let out a groan against Hermione’s mouth.

”I could love you,” he murmured against Hermione’s lips before pulling away and looking down at her. “I don’t know if I could be the man you want me to be, but I believe if there is any woman in the world that could inspire me to feel something other than pain, it is you, Hermione Granger. Already hope is in my heart. Free me. Come with me.”

As Hermione looked up at him, she could see both pain and hope in those dark, sober eyes. Then she looked up at the expanse of sky above them and listened to the ripple of the Nile singing through the night, and felt the breeze caress them, ruffling the wizard’s lank hair as he stared down at her, waiting, hoping for an answer.

Hermione could feel it burst loose inside her, the longing, the need, and the desire for something, someone more than what she had. She could feel the fear as well, but it was receding, letting go to slide into the background, barely perceptible but lingering on the edge. It was madness. It was insanity. It was a risk that would change her life irreversibly no matter the outcome. Did she dare follow where her heart was leading her? Could she turn her back on the safe, secure life promised her if she’d just accept it?

She looked up at Severus, the cruel cast of his features, the hawkish nose, the glint of his eyes, the curtain of lank hair that surrounded his face as he looked back at her, sinister, dark, almost the anti-thesis of Ronald Weasley. Could she follow a man like this to the ends of the earth? Could she love him properly? There would be disagreements and arguments, power struggles, she was sure. But he had a point, if things became too difficult, she could leave. But she would come back to a very different life in wizarding England. No doubt she could continue to teach, but she would no longer have the Weasley family to call her own. But she’d still have Harry—and her parents. And there were some others who were just associates right now, but they could become friends in the future. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and a host of others. Not everything revolved around the Weasleys.

But Ron. He loved her. He wouldn’t understand why she’d want to leave such a secure life. He didn’t miss the excitement and danger of their younger years. He was relieved it was over and believed she should be happy with the status quo. Logically, she should be. She could live a quiet, uneventful life, teaching and raising a family. She wanted a family—just not right now. Witches were fertile for an extremely long time, some bearing children in their nineties. She was in her mid-twenties. There was plenty of time for a family. But she’d have to find a husband first—

Now, Snape looked a little impatient. He could see Hermione was thinking, but they could be doing much more under the stars than thinking. He cleared his throat a bit, and Hermione’s unfocused eyes turned on him.

”Remember me?” he purred.

”Yes,” she said softly, now very aware of the mountain of cushions they rested upon, Snape stretched out beside her, his face contorted slightly as he thought he should have had sex with her first then made his declarations. But, it wasn’t anything he planned anyway, so hindsight didn’t matter.

Hermione stared up at him, still considering as the right corner of his mouth twitched with continued impatience. She could tell he was trying to stay calm and not blow a torch at her slowness. She liked having him curb his reactions for her sake. It was promising. Finally she spoke.

”I’ve made my final decision,” she said to him, Snape stiffening.

Hermione fell silent for a minute or two, until Snape could stand it no longer. Why was she drawing this out? Witches. Gah!

”Well, what have you decided?” he snapped.

Hermione looked around the Room of Requirement.

”I’ve decided that Egypt had better look something like this, Severus, or I’m going to be one very angry witch,” she replied, then smiled at him softly.

Snape stared down at her, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or not, because she could change her mind again.

Then, he felt the magic of her oath stirring around them.

He blinked.

”An oath?” he asked her disbelievingly.

”Yes, but only to go to Egypt with you,” she replied. “I’m not stupid enough to lock myself in for a lifetime when I don’t know if I can take even two weeks of you. This way, I can hop right back on the plane at the airport if I want to, just as long as I’ve touched the soil with you.”

Snape smirked.

”You are a very smart little witch. My chances of survival have just gone up seven-fold,” he said to her softly. “Thank you.”

He kissed her softly, and then drew his head back.

”And what of Mr. Weasley?” he asked her.

Hermione sighed.

”I’m just going to have to tell him that I’ve decided to go abroad with you,” she said softly, her forehead furrowing. Snape reflexively kissed the furrows, unable to help himself, knowing that her choice to come with him was the cause of the little ridges.

”How much as you going to tell him?” Snape asked her, wondering if Hermione intended to tell him they had been lovers. If she were, he wanted to be present, in case Ron had a bad reaction and tried to do something to punish the witch.

He wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow anyone to put one bushy hair out of place on her head. He frowned.

”As little as possible, I imagine. It’s going to be hard breaking it off with him,” she said softly. “He might want a long distance relationship, but—that’s not going to work out.”

”Damn right,” Snape thought territorially.

Hermione Granger had just changed hands, and he intended to keep a very firm grip on the brilliant witch. He brushed away a lock of curly, bushy hair that had curled around her temple.

”Not, it’s not,” he breathed, covering her mouth again with his own, elation washing over him at the first contact with his committed companion, and maybe one day—his love.

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Two days later, Ron was in his bedroom at the Burrow when Molly knocked on the door, announced Hermione had arrived and was asking for him.

”Send her up, mum,” Ron said, sitting up in the bed and running his fingers through his hair.

”I told her to come up, but she wouldn’t. She said she just wanted to talk to you,” Molly replied. She looked a bit worried. There was something very ominous about Hermione’s demeanor, and she knew about the unanswered owls she had sent.

”All right, I’ll be down in a minute,” Ron said, slipping on his trainers.

Molly returned downstairs and walked into the kitchen. Hermione was standing by the door as if she were a stranger in the house. Molly didn’t like that either.

”Won’t you have a cup of tea, dear?” the matriarch said, pulling out a chair invitingly.

”No, thank you, Molly. I won’t be staying that long,” she replied, not meeting Molly’s eyes.

Molly was going to be devastated when she found out why she came. She loved Hermione like a daughter.

Ron walked into the kitchen, his blue eyes sober as he looked at Hermione, who was dressed in a wool hat, coat, wool pants and boots.

”Oi, Hermione,” he said softly, stopping midway in the kitchen.

Molly watched them. That wasn’t the usual way Ron greeted Hermione. He usually gave her a little kiss and a smile.

But Ron felt guilty about not returning her owls, and felt she wouldn’t want a kiss from him. She was probably mad.

”Hi, Ron. Could you come outside? I want to talk with you for a moment. I have something important to tell you,” she said softly.

”All right,” Ron said, a bad feeling in his belly as he grabbed his coat off the coat rack and slipped it on. He followed Hermione out of the Burrow. Molly walked to the door and watched as they walked a distance from the house. There was a crusty bit of snow on the ground and it crunched under their feet as they walked, Ron’s eyes resting on Hermione’s back, noting how stiffly she walked.

When she stopped and turned to face him, he quickly said, “Hermione, I’m sorry about not returning your owls. It was just—just that I was depressed and didn’t want to talk to anyone. I’m sorry.”

”It’s not about the owls, Ron,” Hermione said.

”No? What’s it about then, Hermione?” Ron asked her.

”I’m leaving. Going abroad,” she said softly.

Ron looked at her incredulously.

”Abroad? What do you mean ‘abroad?’ Abroad as in where and for how long?” he demanded, frowning now.

“Well, first I’m going to Egypt. I’ll be working on a project with Professor Snape,” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice light.

”Professor Snape? Snape? Are you mad, Hermione? No one would go anywhere with Snape!” he said, his face contorted in disbelief.

”It’s an opportunity to see the world and go on an adventure, Ron,” Hermione said. “We’re going to look for—for fabled items. Potions and elixirs.”

Now Ron looked a little relieved.

”Is that what this is about? I told you, Hermione, I’d take you on a few adventures,” Ron said.

Hermione shook her head.

”Those wouldn’t be real adventures, Ron. It would be ‘entertainment.”

”What wrong with entertainment? That’s what you want, isn’t it? Entertainment?”

Hermione sighed.

”No, Ron. I want real adventure, challenge. If Professor Snape and I find what we’re looking for it will be a very great discovery. Something meaningful. I want to do something meaningful, Ron,” the witch told him.

”But—you are doing something meaningful, Hermione. You’re teaching students, training up minds. You love doing that. There’s no time you’re happier than when forcing knowledge into a few heads,” Ron said to her. “And besides, when you marry me, your life will take on even more meaning. You’ll have a family.”

”Ron, I want more than that, and there’s plenty of time to have a family. I have until I’m ninety to have children,” she responded.

Both of Ron’s eyebrows rose.

”Ninety? That’s madness. Who wants to be chasing babies about at ninety, Hermione?” he asked her incredulously. “It’s better to have them now.”

”Better for who, Ron? I’m not ready for marriage or children. I want to do something more with my life, something exciting. I’m not meant for this. I know it now,” she said to him.

Ron’s face grew dark.

”Not meant for what? A decent life? A good job and a husband? Children? Is that what you’re not ready for, Hermione?”

”Precisely, Ron,” Hermione said to him.

Ron blinked at her.

”Doesn’t the fact that I love you mean anything to you at all, Hermione?” he asked her plaintively.

”Of course it does, Ron,” she told him gently.

”Well, if it meant something to you, you wouldn’t want to leave me like this. You wouldn’t ruin my dreams!” he declared.

”If you loved me, Ronald Weasley, you wouldn’t want to force me into a life that’s not suitable for me. You’d want me to be happy!”

”You would be happy! With me!”

”No, I wouldn’t Ron. I see it now. It’s been good between us, and we gave it a good run, we really did, but I could never be happy just being a teacher and a wife. I’d be settling, Ron, and I only have one life. I don’t want to waste it settling. I want to enjoy it,” she told him. “I have two hundred years on this earth. I don’t want to regret any of them.”

“How do you know you won’t regret this, Hermione? Running off with Snape. He’s the snarkiest bastard on earth. It won’t be easy working with him. He’s a git. He’ll leave you stranded if you don’t do what he says. Then what would happen?”

”I’d just—come home,” she told Ron, who frowned at her.

”And you expect me to be waiting for you?” he asked her, angry now.

”Actually, no. I don’t expect you to put your life on hold for me, Ron,” she said softly.

Ron’s face twisted.

”No, I suppose you don’t, considering you won’t put yours on hold for me,” he snarled at her. “I can’t believe you’d just up and leave me, Hermione. You’re going to break my mum’s heart.”

”You’re mum has nothing to do with this, Ron. None of your family does. This is between you and me,” the witch told him. But she did have a bit of a sick feeling in her belly thinking about Molly’s reaction.

”But, you’ve practically been family since you were at Hogwarts. Are you going to turn your back on everyone who loves you, Hermione? There’s more than just me!”

”Stop it! Stop trying to make me feel guilty about wanting to experience my life to the fullest,” Hermione hissed at him. “I’m not being selfish. This is my life, Ron. My life! I’m not obligated to anyone but myself when you get right down to it.”

Ron stared at her.

”You are being selfish, Hermione, as selfish as you can possibly be. You’re turning your back on all of us, just because you’re going through some kind of—of crisis. I bet you came up with this just because I didn’t answer your owls. To pay me back. To hurt me.”

”That’s not true, Ron. Snape made me the offer at the Gift Exchange weeks ago. I’ve been thinking about it ever since,” she told him. “You not returning my owls had nothing to do with it.”

Ron shook his head.

”And you didn’t even think to tell me anything about it? Or to ask my opinion?” he said to her reproachfully.

”No, I didn’t. It was my decision to make, Ron. Not yours. I have my own mind,” Hermione shot back at him.

”I don’t know about that. It seems as if your mind has gone complete batty if you ask me. Turning your entire life upside down to travel with Professor Snape? Just the very idea of it should have you put in St. Mungo’s for observation. It’s madness, Hermione. What would Harry say?”

Hermione turned red. Ron was bringing up everyone in an effort to make her feel guilty. But he was failing and only pissing her off.

”Who cares what Harry says? He’s not my father!” she snapped at him.

Ron pounced.

”Well, what does your father say? I know he’s not going to like you running off with a wizard twice your age and meaner than a basilisk!”

”I’m not a child, Ron. My father doesn’t make my decisions for me any longer! And Professor Snape is a brilliant, talented wizard,” she cried, defending the dark wizard.

”He’s a fucking bastard who probably wants to use you and toss you aside the minute he finds what he’s looking for. He might be a hero, Hermione, but he’s not a good man at all, by any stretch. Look how he acts. He doesn’t care about anyone other than Harry’s dead mum. He’s like a ghoul or something, wanking off over the dead.”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! That’s an absolutely horrible thing to say!” Hermione screeched at him.

”It’s true, Hermione, and you know it! He has no human compassion, no feelings at all that aren’t hateful. He’s walking Misery, that’s what he is, and he likes to spread it around! Going with him anyplace is pure madness! I won’t let you do it!”

”What?” Hermione cried, outraged. “You won’t let me—why you big, overbearing prat! You don’t own me! You can’t forbid me to do anything!”

”You’re my girlfriend! I have a right to say—“

”Not anymore, I’m not! Ron, I came here to break this to you reasonably, but you’re acting like a Neanderthal! I can’t travel and have a boyfriend. I have no idea when I’ll be back or even if I’ll be back! We have to break up and live our separate lives!”

”No! I’m not going to let you—“ Ron cried, his eyes wet now as he lunged for Hermione, who ran back and pulled out her wand, pointing it at the crazed wizard.

Molly, who was watching them argue from the window, screamed as she saw Hermione blast her son backward, then Disapparate. Ron lay on the ground, unmoving.

”No! Ron!” she screamed, running out of the door and stumbling through the crusty snow.

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A/N: I know I skipped the lemon, but I thought it would be more suitable actually happening in Egypt. :) Besides, I had to get to the “break-up” scene. But somehow, I don’t think this is over yet. Notice how Ron doesn’t even consider there’s anything going on between Snape and Hermione? It’s because he finds the wizard so repulsive, he can’t even wrap his mind around the possibility. Anyway, thanks for reading.

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