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 12

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 12 ~ Trying to Clear the Air

When Hermione appeared at the top of the stairs, her knapsack brimming with books, Ron was waiting impatiently at the bottom. She walked down and he quickly took the knapsack from her, pretending to stagger a little.

”What do you have in here? A mountain troll?” he asked her as she scowled at him.

”It’s not that heavy. You have to just redistribute the weight properly,” she said to him.

Ron snorted.

”You’d need five blokes to distribute this weight,” he muttered.

”Well, no one told you that you had to carry it,” Hermione snapped at him as they began to walk through the common room. “Where’s Harry?”

Ron cleared his throat a little.

”He went ahead to breakfast with Ginny. I asked him to because—because I want to ask you something—privately.”

”Privately?”

”Yeah.”

Hermione shrugged. Ron had never asked her anything that he couldn’t say in front of Harry, but—but maybe this was something personal. They walked through the portrait and out into the corridor. Ron pulled out his wand and cast a Muffliato spell around them so no one passing by could hear what they were talking about. All they would hear would be a buzzing in their ears. Hermione frowned slightly at this precautionary measure. This really must be important.

”What did you want to ask me, Ron?” she asked him.

”Well, last night after you left so quickly, I went to talk to Snape,” he began.

Hermione’s eyes widened. Oh no! Did Ron know she’d blasted him?

”I-I can explain, Ron. I never would have never blasted him if he hadn’t made me so angry,” she said quickly. “It was reactionary.”

Ron blinked at her.

”What? You—you blasted him? Why?” he asked her, frowning now.

”Didn’t he tell you?” Hermione asked, her belly tightening uncomfortably.

”No, he didn’t tell me. What did he do?” Ron demanded now, thinking Snape might be getting another blasting.

Hermione suddenly felt a little sick. Ron had no idea she’d hexed Severus. She had offered up that information herself. She tried to backpedal.

”First ask me what you were going to ask me,” she said, trying to buy some time.

Ron’s eyes narrowed at her. Fine. He no longer felt the need to be delicate now that he could tell Hermione was hiding things from him. She should have told him immediately she’d hexed Snape. And why.

“Snape said while he was in your mind he saw you kissing him, when he was a professor here. Did you do that? Did you kiss professor Snape?” he asked her coldly.

”No! He knows that didn’t happen, Ron. I never kissed the professor in my life!” she exclaimed.

”So, he was lying about what he saw?” Ron pressed, his eyes full of disbelief.

”No. He wasn’t lying. He did see it, but it didn’t actually happen,” Hermione said, looking away from Ron and at the floor.

”What? How could he see something that didn’t happen in your mind, Hermione? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Hermione reddened, then she looked up at Ron.

”He saw a fantasy, Ron. I had a crush on professor Snape,” she admitted. “It was just a small one, and harmless. I never acted on it or said anything to him.”

Ron stopped walking, stunned.

”You had the hots for Snape?” he asked her.

”Not the hots. That sounds terrible, Ronald. Honestly. It was just a little schoolgirl crush. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a crush on a teacher before.”

”Yeah, but back when I was a third year and couldn’t do anything about it. Professor Sinistra. But I was young then, Hermione. This is different. You’re past the age of consent.”

Hermione frowned at him.

”What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked him darkly.

“It means you’re old enough for the professor to shag, that’s what it means,” Ron said jealously.

Hermione threw up her hands and started walking again, Ron catching up to her.

”I can’t believe this. What does it matter how old I am? Nothing was going to come of it, Ron,” she said.

”What if he had tried to have something come of it, Hermione? What if he had—had approached you?” Ron asked her.

”He wouldn’t, Ron. He didn’t like me.”

”But what if he did?”

“He wouldn’t, and I’m not going to entertain the idea that he would. It’s ridiculous, Ron.”

Ron went silent as they caught the shifting stairwell, but the silence was as heavy as if a blanket had been thrown over the both of them. They were on the second floor stairwell before he spoke again.

“So, why did you hex Snape?” he asked her softly.

”Because of what he said to me. I had told him that all this time I thought he was just trouble, but now I realized he was just an arse. Then he said he was an arse that I wanted to lift my robes for. I was so outraged, I hexed him before I could help it.”

Ron went silent again for about a minute. They walked down the marble stairwell. Ron stopped at the bottom and looked at her, his blue eyes full of hurt.

”You know what bothers me about this, Hermione? That you were with me when you had this crush on Snape,” he said softly. “You were with me.”

”Oh, come on, Ron,” she said. “You can’t tell me you haven’t crushed on anyone since we’ve been together.

Ron stared at her.

”Yes, Hermione. Yes I can,” he said softly, removing the Muffliato spell and walking toward the Great Hall, leaving her standing there.

”Ron? Ron!” she called after him.

”Trouble in paradise?” an unwelcome soft voice said behind her as Ron opened the door and walked through. Hermione spun to find the tip of Snape’s wand pointed directly between her eyes.

”I’m not about to make the same mistake with you I made last night, Hermione. You are quite—volatile for a bleeding heart Gryffindor. It was surprising that you didn’t wait until my back was turned to hex me, like your predecessors,” he hissed at her.

”That’s because I wanted you to see it coming, you git,” she snapped back at him.

Snape flicked his wand and cast another Muffliato spell. The only thing was, it didn’t buzz in peoples’ ears. When done correctly, they just didn’t hear the conversation. Someone had made an error when they originally shared the spell. Snape’s spell truly muffled a conversation completely.

Still, students stared at the witch and wizard as they passed, Snape’s wand held on Hermione. No one had the nerve to say anything. This situation was still too new. It was clear to see there was some altercation going on, but no one dared to get involved. Snape might still be able to take points or assign detentions.

“How dare you tell Ron I kissed you! You know that never happened,” she spat at him angrily.

”It might not have happened, but he wanted to know what changed your opinion of me,” Snape purred back at her. “And it had to do with that kiss, real or imagined.”

”It didn’t. It had to do with you calling me stupid, among other things. You are just insufferable,” she declared, stamping her foot.

”Am I really, Hermione? You don’t even know me. Not me as I am now. But you knew me when I was truly insufferable, and you were drawn to me despite that. So, logically if you were attracted to me when I really was insufferable, and you consider me insufferable now—I can only surmise that you are still attracted to me,” Snape said in a low voice, his eyes gleaming with mirthful malice.

”Ew! No! You are the most reprehensible, irritating, inconsiderate—“

”Are you still going to get my memories from Potter, or are you going to turn back on your word, as those of your house usually do?” he asked her, cutting her off.

Hermione looked shocked.

”You have some nerve asking me that after you—“

Snape gave her a look of blatant disgust.

”Just as I thought,” he said witheringly, lowering his wand. “You’re just like the rest of them. No different. You go back on your word at the drop of a Knut. Like Lily, like Dumbledore—I don’t know why I thought you might—might be different. Special. It seems an intelligent mind doesn’t insure good character, does it? I may be a bastard, Hermione Granger, but my character is impeccable. I always keep my word once given. I’ll leave you now, and if you feel the urge to fire at my back as I walk away, do so. The precedent was set years ago.”

With that, Snape turned and walked toward the double doors that led outside, his robes billowing. Hermione looked after him, feeling ashamed of herself. But why? How did he do that? He was the one who--

”Severus! I’ll get them!” she called after him.

He paused at the door, but didn’t look back.

He exited.

Hermione let out a sigh, then suddenly thought, “Ron!”

She spun to see Ron standing next to the doors of the Great Hall. The other students had told him Snape was holding a wand on her and he hurried out to see Hermione talking to him. The wizard looked very intense, but he didn’t seem as if he were going to hex her. Ron stood there, watching as Snape talked to her very intensely, almost intimately, then spun and walked away, Hermione looking after him with obvious concern. Then she’d shouted she’d get something for him. After all the nastiness that passed between them, she was still interacting with the wizard. She wasn’t angry with him.

And that made Ron angry at her. He turned and walked back into the Great Hall without a word. The look on his face had said everything.

Obviously, she was still crushing on the snarky bastard.

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said softly, walking to the Great Hall and letting herself in. She had to make Ron understand there wasn’t anything going on.

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Solicitor James Bartleby was looking over some parchments when a knock sounded on his door. He quickly looked at his appointment sheet. He didn’t have any appointments. Maybe this was a walk-in.

“Come in,” the comfortably rotund, blue-eyed, balding wizard said.

The door opened and in walked a rather solemn-looking young man, rather tall and thin with lank black hair and dark, sober eyes. He was dressed in black robes and trainers.

”May I help you?” he asked. This wizard looked vaguely familiar.

”Yes. Are you James Bartleby?” Snape asked him.

”I am. And you are?”

Snape took a seat in the armchair before the desk and met Bartleby’s eyes.

”I am Severus Snape, your client,” he responded.

Bartleby blinked at him.

”Severus Snape Jr.?” he asked the young man, who shook his head.

”No. The Severus Snape. There’s been a bit of a potions accident—“

Snape had sorted through the desk in his study a bit more and found a business letter from Bartleby about a small investment he had made. So, that’s where he went.

Bartleby listened in amazement as Snape gave him the bare bones of the matter and what he needed to do.

”So, you remember nothing?” the solicitor asked him.

”No. I’m starting from scratch. But as you can see, Lucius Malfoy has made me an offer that will get me off to a new start. I just want to make sure that I am protected. That he won’t rob me blind,” Snape said.

Bartleby smirked. Snape had always been a cautious man, and sharp. Obviously, he started out that way.

Bartleby was a man used to extraordinary situations. He often represented clients in the midst of them. However, this had to be the most extraordinary situation yet. Amazing. Too bad the potion that caused this accident wasn’t available. Snape would make a fortune if he could find a way to youthen others but allow them to keep their memories, then marketed it. Maybe—maybe in the future.

“So, you’d like me to draw up a contractual agreement of patronage between yourself and Lord Malfoy?”

”Yes. I want limits on how much he can recoup at one time and some access to my residuals while under his patronage. Oh, and full rights to my potions.”

Bartleby smiled.

”You don’t want much, do you, Mr. Snape?”

Snape gave him a thin lipped smile. He liked this wizard for some reason, possibly because it seemed they had a good working relationship in the past and he didn’t seem too taken aback by his current situation.

”I want as much as I can get, Mr. Bartleby,” he replied.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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