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 26

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 26 ~ Raising the Bar

When they finally did leave for the Forbidden Forest two hours later, and Hermione was securely on his broom, Snape took the opportunity to inform her about Minerva’s misgivings.

”You know, the Headmistress is quite concerned about the amount of unsupervised time you’re spending in my quarters,” Severus said to Hermione as they flew toward the Forest.

”What? Why?” Hermione asked him.

”I believe she thinks your virtue is in danger,” Snape replied.

Hermione felt her face warming. Snape had definitely tried to kiss her—but it had been a rather emotional moment for him.

”That’s ridiculous,” she replied, although there wasn’t much conviction in her voice. Snape thought she probably was a terrible liar.

“You’re exactly right,” Snape agreed, circling over the clearing. “Although it is my virtue that she should be concerned about.”

”Your virtue?” Hermione responded, almost laughing.

Snape dipped downward, pulling up at the last minute, making Hermione’s heart nearly rise into her throat. They landed. She dismounted and looked at him expectantly.

“Yes, my virtue. I’ve yet to be—intimate with a witch.”

Snape dismounted and handed the surprised witch his broom, his black eyes resting on her as she stared back at him, speechless.

”What? You find it strange that I’m a virgin? Well, don’t. I wasn’t the most popular wizard at Hogwarts. No witch other than Lily ever gave me the time of day. Besides, they were all silly, giggling little chits. Not a brain cell between them. All they did was flaunt their ‘charms’ and make wizards trail after them as if under the Imperious curse. They enjoyed leading them around by their nads. I was immune to them.”

Hermione saw a bitterness in Snape’s eyes as he said this. She didn’t believe he was immune to witches. She believed he felt he would never be accepted by any of them and just--- avoided them—acted as if they had no effect on him.

”Witches can be rather silly,” Hermione said softly.

”Especially when it comes to the wizards they choose to be with,” he muttered.

He transformed into his gryffin form, half-spread his wings and walked to the edge of the clearing as Hermione made another bonfire. It was dusk and nightfall would be on them soon.

As she cast the Incendio spell at the teepee-like structure of wood she’d arranged, Hermione wondered if he was referring to Lily Potter or herself when he muttered about chosen wizards. She settled down a distance from the bonfire, took out her pad and sketched him as he glided around the clearing, learning how to turn smoothly. He was still gliding however, making leaps here and there as he touched down.

He was beautiful. From time to time, he would stop gliding, look at her and strike a pose, talon raking at the air as he stared fiercely at her. As a gryffin, he had no other expression other than fierce. It was his body language that expressed his emotions.

”You’re nothing but a big show off,” Hermione chuckled as he spread his wings dramatically. She quickly drew a sketch. She’d fill in the details later.

”You know, I find it ironic that your form is a gryffin, Severus,” she called over to him. “I mean the form suits your personality, but a gryffin is the representative animal of Gryffindor house, and—well—you’re a Slytherin. That has to curl your coils a little.”

Snape turned back into his human form so he could answer her. He walked over and stood before the flame, firelight flickering over his severe black button-down robes.

”No, it doesn’t curl my coils,” he replied loftily. “Obviously, it was my destiny to oversee Gryffindors and try to keep them from getting themselves killed because of their ‘run right to the danger’ attitude. As a Slytherin, I was better equipped to baby sit all of you. At least, that is my theory. What I think is ironic is that after being tormented by Gryffindors for years, I ended up protecting and nearly giving my life for them. The bottom line is, it took a Slytherin to watch over you lot. Cunning and resourcefulness mattered much more than just blind courage.”

Hermione looked up at him.

”So that’s what you think, is it?” she asked him.

”No. That’s what I know,” he replied, turning back into a gryffin and stalking away, his tufted tail lashing.

As he continued to practice, Hermione frowned down at her notepad. She couldn’t get his feathers precisely right. She looked up at him as he prepared to leap off again.

”Severus, could I—examine you? For my sketches?”

The gryffin blinked at her, then walked over.

”Squawww,” it said rather softly. Hermione took it for a yes. She looked up at it, and it lowered its head slightly, and Hermione ran her hands over the powerful beak slowly, Snape working his jaw a little. He lowered his head a bit more and Hermione caressed his face, then the top of his head, looking at the small feathers that covered it. She ran her hands down his neck, and the gryffin’s eyes closed in pleasure. Hermione examined its wings, back, talons and legs, making little sketches of the scales and feather types.

When it appeared her examination of him was finished, Snape wickedly lifted his right back leg and squawked at her. Hermione turned bright red, refusing to look at his exposed genitals, turning her eyes up and to the right in reaction.

”No, I really don’t need to examine those up close,” she told him. “I can get those sketchings from—from a book. You have the standard lion body after all.”

The gryffin lowered its leg and let out a little line of chatter that Hermione was sure translated into something like, “What kind of researcher are you?”

“Go glide,” she snapped at him. If he had been a real gryffin, she would have had no problem looking at and sketching his reproductive organs. But he wasn’t a gryffin. He was a wizard, and an awful one to do that to her. Still, she smirked a little as he returned to his practicing.

She sat back down by the bonfire, but not too close. Just close enough to see her notepad. She idly thought about what her own Animagus form could be, if she had one. It was doubtful she did. Although she knew about several Animagi, including Snape, the truth was they were rare. It was coincidence that the Marauders all had the ability to change the way they did. And finding the form usually took years. Snape had been at it for at least two years before his transformation last night. Two years.

Hermione thought that one day she might investigate it further. For now, she was content to document Severus and advance her theories based on his transformation. Maybe—maybe he’d even stand in on her NEWTS and transform. That had to be worth some extra points. Her brown eyes looked thoughtful as she watched the gryffin glide and turn gracefully.

Maybe he’d even fly. She’d have to ask him.

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”No. Now that’s going beyond what’s necessary, Hermione. I’m letting you document me. Doesn’t it ever stop with you?” Snape complained as they flew back toward the castle.

“What? All you’d have to do is stand there, transform when I say and maybe take a few glides around the room. What’s so hard about that?”

”Why not just set up a couple of fiery hoops for me to fly through on command?” Snape hissed at her.

”Hey—that’s not such a bad—“

”I was being sarcastic,” Snape snapped at her, his arms tightening a bit as Hermione rested between them.

”Stop squeezing me.”

”Stop aggravating me,” Snape hissed at her. “You are not going to parade me around for your NEWTS! I can’t believe you’re a Gryffindor. You are so—so self-promoting!”

”Only when it comes to marks,” Hermione said as they landed near the castle stairs and she hopped off the broom. “I want the best graduating marks Hogwarts has seen in years, Severus. Won’t you help me?”

Snape looked at her incredulously as he opened the door for her to enter the castle.

”Help you? I am helping you! You haven’t even touched any of my books yet. You could probably come up with hundreds of theories if you weren’t so focused on my transformation. You wouldn’t need me at your NEWTS.”

Filch suddenly walked into view, his craggy face breaking into a smile when he saw Snape and Hermione. He waved at the wizard, then jumped into the air, clicking his heels together. He landed crisply, giving them both an exaggerated bow and flourish.

Hermione was absolutely stunned at Filch’s nimbleness and lack of breaking limbs.

Snape smiled back at him, genuinely happy that his salve had worked so well. Suddenly, Filch looked upward, his eyes narrowed and on point. He had seen the billow of an errant student’s robe on the third floor landing.

”I see yah!” the squib cried, running up the marble staircase two steps at a time and disappearing down the first floor corridor. He quickly emerged on the second floor landing and caught a shifting stairwell to the third floor landing, leapt off and charged down it.

”Wow,” Hermione breathed, still unable to believe Filch was running about as if he were thirty years younger.

“It seems Filch is on the hunt,” Snape said, looking back at her.

”You had something to do with that, didn’t you? He wouldn’t have smiled at you like that. Filch never smiles at anyone. What did you do? Give him something?”

Snape nodded.

”A salve for his arthritis. Filch was the only one who ever tried to catch the Marauders. He was kind of my ally at Hogwarts. His bones bother him now. I thought it would be nice if he could engage in his favorite pastime again, that of running down students.”

Filch reappeared on the third floor landing, holding a blonde third year student by the nape of his robes. He looked down at Snape victoriously as if the student were a prize buck he’d brought down. Filch shook the boy a little before mounting a landing and heading up to the Headmistress’ office.

”They are certainly going to be surprised,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Usually, they just walk quickly to get away from him. He gets tired easily.”

”He wasn’t tired. He was in pain. Rule breakers beware. Now, back to what you asked me. No,” he said to Hermione, who scowled and looked at her watch.

”It’s almost eleven. I have to go, but this isn’t over. I can’t understand why you’re being so selfish about this. You have nothing to do while the Transfiguration NEWTS are going on. You could be there without any problem. It wouldn’t even take five minutes, Severus.”

”No,” he said again, now walking toward the dungeon stairwell. “And that’s the end of it.”

He billowed down the stairs.

”No, it’s not,” Hermione hissed, turning and stalking up the staircase.

Severus Snape was going to get onboard one way or the other.

She’d make sure of it.

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”Ron, what are you doing?” Harry asked his friend, who was standing very still in the middle of their room. Harry had been reading a Quidditch magazine, but Ron distracted him—by doing nothing. Ron was always doing something, so this was rather weird.

”Shhh. I’m concentrating,” Ron said, frowning slightly.

”Concentrating on what? Miming a pillar?”

Ron let out an exasperated sigh, then grabbed a book off his bed and tossed it to Harry. Harry looked at the title and said, “Oh Ron, don’t tell me you actually paid for this tripe.”

”What? I’ve heard it’s a great instructional aid.”

”How to Become an Animagus in Only 7 Days? Ron, this is a rip-off. That’s impossible. Didn’t you pay any attention in Transfiguration?”

Ron looked at Harry.

”But these are ‘mystic’ techniques, not the usual old magic, Harry. These methods come from the Ancients. I haven’t even gotten to the chanting part yet. That releases my ‘Chi’ into ‘Pralaya.’ Then, Kali, the goddess of—“

”Ron, this really sounds like a bunch of made up stuff or mixed-up. I don’t know which but I’m sure seven days from now, you’ll still be Ron, with two arms, two legs and a head full of useless junk you’ve learned from this book. You should get your money-back. Why are you doing this anyway? Because of Severus? Or is it Hermione?”

Ron scowled.

”Why does it have to be about either of them? Actually, it’s not, really. I’m just curious as to what my Animagus form would be,” Ron said.

”Provided you even have one. Not everyone does, Ron. It’s kind of a rare ability.”

“I don’t believe that, Harry. You know why? Because your father, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew all managed to transform. I think a lot of it had to do with their intent rather than their abilities. They wanted to be with Lupin when he transformed. I think that their desire was what helped them transform. Hermione’s not the only one who can come up with a theory, you know. The odds are better that they all managed to do it, than that all three had the ability and just happened to be friends,” Ron said.

Harry blinked at him.

”Ron, I believe Hermione has really rubbed off on you. That’s not half bad.”

Ron sat down on the bed.

”Harry, what kind of animal do you think I’d transform into, based on my personality?”

Harry shrugged.

”I don’t know. You’re loyal. Maybe a dog.”

Ron’s face screwed up. He was hoping Harry would say something with more “oomph.”

”How about a dragon,” he offered, hoping Harry would pick up on it.

But Harry shook his head.

“No. You don’t have the bite for that, Ron. A dragon would be more like Draco Malfoy’s form, if he had one.”

”A Basilisk?”

”No.”

”A Sphinx?”

”Uh-uh.”

Ron rattled off several names of the coolest creatures he could think of, all magical.

Harry sighed and said, ”Ron, I really think you would have a basic animal form. Maybe a fox. They’re great strategists in the wild. And they have red fur, like your hair. I don’t think a fox would be bad at all.”

“A fox? That’s not very exciting at all,” Ron muttered. “Especially compared to a gryffin.”

”It IS about Severus,” Harry said accusingly. “You’re jealous!”

”No, I’m not. I just would like a cool Animagus form, Harry.”

”Right, Ron,” Harry replied, his voice showing his disbelief.

”Just throw me back my book.”

”Fine. Here. Mime all you like,” Harry said, tossing Ron the book and returning to his Quidditch mag.

Ron leafed through the book, chucked it back on his bed, then took up his still, relaxed position in the center of the room again, Harry ignoring him.

Presently, Ron closed his eyes and began to chant.

”Ohmm. Ohmmmmm. Ohmmm”

Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed. Ron was now rocking side to side in time with his chanting.

”Ohmmmm. Ohmmmm.”

“Oh, good Grindelows,” the boy who lived breathed in exasperation, putting his magazine on his nightstand. He removed his glasses, fell back in the bed and pulled his pillow over his face.

This was going to be a long night.

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A/N: lol. Thanks for reading.

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