The Burning Pen

A Looping of the Scales 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 11

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 11 ~ Coming to Terms

Parvati Patil knocked on Hermione’s door. Hermione was up to her neck in multiple parchments and scowled as she heard the knock, not looking up.

”I’m studying!” she called.

”Ron wants to see you, Hermione,” Parvati said through the door.
”I’m studying,” Hermione said again, irritated.

”But, he really wants to see you, Hermione. He seems upset.”

Hermione sighed. What was there for Ron to be upset about? She was just down there with him. Well, whatever it was, it could wait until tomorrow. She had to get these three essays done tonight. They were due in two days.

”Tell Ron he can talk to me tomorrow before class, Parvati. I’m really busy,” she called.

Parvati frowned, and left.

Ron was standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. Parvati walked down them alone.

”I’m sorry, Ron, but she said she’s really busy and will talk to you tomorrow,” the witch said apologetically.

”Great. Just great. So I’m going to have to wonder about this the whole night,” Ron muttered. “I hate when she does this.”

Harry looked sympathetic.

”Ron, you know how she is about her studies. She helps us out, but at night she really focuses on her own work. She’s taking eleven NEWTS, Ron. Eleven. That has to be some kind of record,” Harry said.

”I don’t know why she works so hard, Harry. Everyone knows she’s brilliant. It’s insane the amount of work she does,” Ron said angrily. “She doesn’t have to know everything about everything.”

”That’s just Hermione, Ron. She’s always been that way and you know that. She’s not going to change. And if she wasn’t the way she is, probably neither of us would even be here,” Harry told him as they both walked up the stairs to their room.

”It’s just that it seems studying and getting perfect marks is more important to Hermione than I am,” Ron complained, sitting down on his bed and pulling off his trainers. “She didn’t even bother to come down and see what I wanted. It’s things like that I don’t like.”

”If she knew what Snape had told you, she would have come right down, Ron, I’m sure of it,” Harry said to him as he removed his glasses and pulled his shirt over his head. Silence fell as they both stripped down to their boxers and lay down in their beds. Harry took a Snitch out of a box on his nightstand and practiced making grabs at it as it hovered over his bed, dipping and dodging but not flying away. Ron lay on his stomach, his chin on his folded arms as he glowered.

”Do you think Hermione actually kissed Snape when he was a teacher, Harry?” he asked his friend.

Harry played with the Snitch idly, his brow furrowing.

”I don’t know, Ron, but if she did, I’m sure it wasn’t anything—er—sexual. Maybe a ‘thank you’ kiss on the cheek or something. Snape didn’t say what kind of kiss it was. He might have been purposely trying to make you mad and get the attention off of him.”

”Sexual,” Ron hissed. “I hope not. How could anyone be attracted to Snape? Sure, he did a lot but he was an ugly bloke. He still is, really. There’s just no other way to put it, Harry. And his personality doesn’t help a bit. No, Hermione couldn’t have been attracted to him like that. It was probably just what you said. Something innocent, if it happened at all. I mean, people kiss their pets all the time, don’t they?”

Harry didn’t say anything, but he thought that ugly as he was, Snape could still appeal to Hermione because he was a hero and he was brilliant. Plus, Hermione always got wood for anyone or thing that seemed damaged or an underdog. But, he wisely didn’t say anything to Ron about it. He had enough on his mind. Harry would be completely squicked if he found out Ginny kissed Snape in any manner, innocent or not.

“Still, I wish Hermione had come down to talk to me,” Ron said wistfully. “It’s not easy playing second to a bunch of books and parchments. There’s no way to compete with them, Harry.”

”Hermione’s going to be out of school soon, Ron, then you’ll have all of her attention. You just have to be patient,” Harry told him.

Ron sighed.

”Yeah, that’s what Hermione says, too. But Harry, what if she takes some high-powered job that takes up all her time, or worse, two or three jobs so she’ll feel challenged? I’m not sure it’s going to stop here, Harry. She’s been overachieving ever since she arrived at Hogwarts. Do you think she’s going to just stop because she graduates? It might even be worse.”

Harry thought it was quite possible Hermione might take up multiple careers. He caught the Snitch and looked over at Ron.

“What if she does decide to do that, Ron?” he asked him.

Ron blinked several times.

”I don’t know, Harry. I mean, I’m crazy about Hermione and I’m willing to wait for her complete attention—I know learning is important to her as breathing, but I don’t know if I’m willing to play second to her job or jobs. I mean, it has to stop somewhere, doesn’t it? I want to marry her, you know.”

”Does Hermione know that, Ron?”

Ron shook his head.

”I haven’t told her, but she should suspect it, shouldn’t she? Aren’t witches supposed to know these things?”

”Ordinary witches, maybe. I don’t know about Hermione. She doesn’t seem to think much about marriage as much as the others. I’ve never heard her talk about it. Even Ginny talks about it.”

Harry shuddered a little. He loved Ginny, but there was something about the “M” word that made him want to hop on his Firebolt and fly away extremely fast.

Ron grunted. No, Hermione wasn’t at all like other witches. She stayed to herself mostly, or with him and Harry. She studied insanely and when she did deal with other students, it was usually in the capacity of a tutor, not a social situation. If she wasn’t sitting with either him or Harry, she was sitting by herself with books and parchments for company. Hermione really was a bit of an odd duck when you thought about it.

“Maybe I should tell her, Harry. Just so she knows how serious I am about her,” Ron mused.

”Maybe.”

”Yeah. I’ll do that. Right after I find out what Snape was talking about,” the redhead said with a yawn.

“Just make sure Ginny doesn’t hear about it. She has a year to go, and I don’t want all that pressure,” Harry said warningly.

”Right,” Ron said softly, drifting off to sleep as Harry continued playing with the Snitch.

But, he hoped Snape had been lying, or if he wasn’t, there was a good explanation.

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Snape watched as Lucius removed his cloak, hung it up on the rack and rested his cane against the wall. The pureblood then walked over to the liquor cabinet and fixed himself a Firewhiskey. He turned to Snape, holding up the glass.

”Join me?” he asked.

Snape shook his head, frowning slightly as Lucius walked over and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. Snape slowly joined him. He looked displeased. Lucius quirked an eyebrow at the sullen wizard.

”I must apologize, Severus. You didn’t realize I am quite familiar with your rather spare quarters. I visited you quite often over the years,” he said, whisking the Firewhiskey around in his glass before taking a sip of it, then setting it down on the small table between the chairs.

Snape didn’t say anything. He just looked at Lucius.

”You’ve always been one not to speak unless you had something to say, Severus,” Lucius said to him with a slight smirk. “You always listened so carefully. I should have suspected you were a spy. It was lucky for me and mine that you were or our lives would have been much different.”

”How?”

”Most likely my only heir would be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his life,” Lucius replied. “Or he could have been killed by vengeful Order members or anyone who felt loyalty towards Dumbledore, and there were many—including you, it seems.”

Snape frowned. He felt absolutely no loyalty towards Dumbledore. The old wizard had failed him and used him. He still wasn’t sure how that occurred. Perhaps when he got his memories from Harry it would become clearer.

Still, he didn’t reply.

”Well, let’s get down to the bare bones of it, shall we? The situation is this, Severus, at the age of eighteen you were already brilliant with potions, which is why you got Voldemort’s attentions and was so favored by him. You are that lad again, and have a brilliant career in front of you without the onus of being under the Dark Lord’s thumb.”

Snape just blinked at him.

”I am in your debt, but I’m sure you know that this is not exactly a kindness. I am a Slytherin after all, and a true Slytherin does not give something for nothing. I am willing to make an investment in you because I know that you will do something extraordinary. In your case, I have no doubt lightning will strike twice if you have—opportunities. What I am proposing is that I become your patron. I will provide you with a place to live, board, a lab, ingredients, and whatever you need to develop your skills and new potions. I will recoup my investments whenever you develop something marketable, but you will retain the rights, so will receive residuals for your work once it is marketed and I am repaid.”

”So, I won’t get anything at first,” Snape said coldly.

Lucius blinked at him.

”You will be cared for, have all your needs provided for. That’s hardly nothing, Severus.”

”I don’t like it,” the boy said. “There should be some kind of limit on how much you recoup at once. Otherwise, it’ll be as if I’m a slave for you.”

Lucius’ handsome face contorted at this statement.

”When you worked for Voldemort, he gave you little more than praise,” Lucius hissed at him angrily.

”But I won’t be working for Voldemort, will I? This is completely different and I should at least get money for my work. I won’t have a job after all—not really. I need my own money.”

”I’ll give you an allowance,” Lucius offered. But Snape shook his head.

”No, you’ll recoup that, too. I’ll just be further in your debt that way.”

Lucius blinked at the boy. Snape might be young, but he was sharp.

”Well, possibly we can arrange for you to receive a set amount of residuals per month.”

”It’s going to have to be better than ‘possibly,’” Snape responded.

”Fine. I’ll have a solicitor draw up a contract. That way it will be a nice, legal and clearly laid out agreement between us,” Lucius said. He could work in a few underhanded terms that way.

Snape studied him. Lucius had always been rather slippery from what he knew of him for the two years they attended school together. He had been in his sixth year when Snape started at Hogwarts.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Snape said softly as Lucius gave him a slow smile.

”But, I’ll have my own solicitor draw up the terms,” the boy added.

Now Lucius scowled.

”Your—your own solicitor? Can you even pay for such services?”

Snape nodded.

”I’ve lost some years, but I haven’t lost my bank account. I can pay for my own solicitor,” he informed the wizard. “And the only way we will come to an agreement, one I can feel comfortable with, is if I have someone draw up a contract who wants to protect my interests. Your solicitor will only be concerned with protecting yours.”

Lucius’ brows drew together.

”Are you sure you’re only eighteen? You seem to have quite a mature attitude toward business,” he said.

Severus’ lip quirked unpleasantly.

”No, I don’t have any business experience, but any Slytherin worth his salt knows to protect himself, especially when dealing with another Slytherin,” he replied with narrowed eyes.

Lucius stared at him a moment, then broke out into rich laughter.

“I think you’re going to go far this second time around, Severus,” he chuckled as he finished his drink and stood up, shaking his head slightly at the lank-haired wizard seated before him. “Contact me after you’ve had the terms written up. I’ll show myself out.”

Snape didn’t move but listened as Lucius donned his cloak and slid the wall back, then exited. After a minute or two, he went and checked that he was truly gone, and warded his office door. He returned to his quarters, walked over to the table where Lucius’ glass sat and picked it up, sniffing it. Then he Scourgified it and walked over to the liquor cabinet, eyeing the bottles inside it.

Slowly, he picked up the Firewhiskey and carefully poured a shot into the glass. It had a rich, woody scent. He held it up to the firelight, studying its clarity. Then he chucked it back, swallowing quickly.

That was a mistake.

His throat seemed to catch fire and he spent the next five minutes practically coughing up his lungs.

Firewhiskey was definitely an acquired taste he wasn’t yet ready to acquire.

When he recovered, he went into his bedroom, stripped down and left his only set of robes and underwear out for the house elves to launder and took a warm shower. He dried off and climbed into bed naked, sliding his long, slender limbs under the Slytherin green sheets.

He needed to leave Hogwarts tomorrow and buy some robes that fit him, some books and find a solicitor. Lucius’ appearance made him realize it was possible to live a fairly decent life despite what happened to him. He might have lost his old memories—

but he could definitely make new ones. Memories that would have to be better than those he lost. He turned on his side and drifted off to sleep with a sense of control and purpose.

After all the loss and uncertainty of the past two days, it was a welcome feeling.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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