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 56

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 56 ~ On the Way Back to Gryffindor Tower

Snape and Hermione had one more very hot encounter that had the headboard rocking and made both of them rather hoarse from all the grunting and shrieking. They took a totally sex-free shower together, washing each others’ backs, then Snape insisted on walking Hermione to Gryffindor tower despite her protests.

”The Bloody Baron might get you,” Snape said as he walked her up the dungeon corridor. Hermione snorted.

”Really, you could come up with something better than that, Severus. The Bloody Baron. Pffft. He doesn’t scare me. None of the ghosts do. I’m used to them.”

Snape looked around the dungeon area.

”Oh, really?” he asked her.

”Really.”

Unknown to Hermione, Peeves, the resident poltergeist, was following them, listening. He gave a big smile and his orange bowtie whirled with glee at Hermione’s pronouncement, and he quickly flew off to the room where the ghosts congregated, ready to start a bit of devilment.

The ghosts were in a little used, stuffy, gloomy and well-cobwebbed room that was also in the dungeons. It was the same room used to celebrate Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington’s (also known as Nearly Headless Nick) five hundredth Deathday. They sat around a large table, chatting, playing chess and other games with ghostly decks and boards. Black tapered candles with blue flames gave off light to see by, and overhead was a chandelier also alight with blue flames. Against a far wall rested a table with rotting food on it and several ghost horses stood quietly by another wall, waiting on their departed masters.

Several headless knights were doing their best to chat up a group of gloomy nuns.

”Come now,” one knight purred at an unsmiling nun. “A thousand years of virginity has to get old.”

An aged ghost wrapped up in heavy chains chortled at the knight’s attempt to woo the nun.

”They don’t call them ‘nones’ for nothing you know!” he cackled.

Peeves zoomed in through a side wall.

”Hallo, ghosties!” Peeves said in greeting as they all looked up at him with distaste.

”Peeves, this area is for ghosts only. Not bothersome creatures created by teenaged angst. Depart immediately,” one pearly ghost in armor told him. It was Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, the leader of the Headless Hunt. His head was securely tucked in the crook of his arm and glowered at the poltergeist. The Grey Lady and Bloody Baron frowned in Peeves’ direction but said nothing.

”Yes, but Peeves does his job, he does. Causing mayhem. You aren’t proper ghosties. You do nothing and no one is frightened of you,” Peeves declared, knowing this would piss them off.

”What do you mean? We are frightening when we wish to be,” Nearly Headless Nick said, scowling at Peeves.

”No. You can’t scare anyone! Hermione Granger said so. She’s in the dungeon corridor. She fears no Hogwarts ghostie! You are all—soft! Soft ghosties! She said so!”

”What? Sir Nicholas, isn’t Granger one of your charges?” the Bloody Baron asked.

”Why, yes she is.”

”I think fame has gone to her head,” the Grey Lady purred. “Perhaps we should remind her how frightening we can be.”

”You mean scare her?” Nick looked a bit taken aback. Scaring his own charge purposely? That wasn’t Quidditch.

“Yes, scare her. She insulted us after all,” Sir Patrick hissed. “But if you haven’t got the heart for it, Sir Nicholas, then stay behind—like you do during the hunt.”

Nick frowned at Sir Patrick. He’d been trying for centuries to get in on the Headless Hunt, but because his head was never fully cleaved from his body and attached by the slightest bit of skin, he was excluded. Rotten luck.

”Of course I’ve got the heart for it. It’s just—unusual. We normally have good relations with the Hogwarts students.”

”Softy ghosties,” Peeves interjected again, everyone scowling up at him. “Gryffindor boasties.”

”Shut up, Peeves!” Nick hissed at him.

“Possibly our relations are too good. They don’t respect us,” the Grey Lady said.

”Now, now. Respect is something that comes from within, my children,” the Fat Friar said loftily.

”Oh, stick a fork in it, Friar. This is time for action, not words. Shall we go teach this Gryffindor a lesson in fear?” Sir Patrick cried, lifting his sword.

The ghosts all agreed, with the exception of Nick and the Fat Friar. The other ghosts were quite pleased to have something other to do that sit around playing games.

The ghost knights mounted their horses and galloped through the walls, led by Sir Patrick. The other ghosts turned invisible and floated after them heading toward Hermione and Snape. Both Nick and the Friar went as well, not wanting to be ostracized by the others.

”Doesn’t it bother you that a ghost that isn’t even a Hogwarts ghost is leading the charge?” Nick asked the Friar, who shrugged as they entered the wall.

”Sir Patrick is used to leading charges,” the Friar replied. “It’s his one talent, if you ask me unless you including his ability to make one wish they were dead all over again with his boring stories of his own greatness. He’s been telling them for centuries, the bloody blowhard.”

Sir Patrick and his knights hung around Hogwarts because they liked to be admired by the other ghosts. No resident ghost knew how to make them leave, and the living inhabitants didn’t see any problem. They were all ghosts, and ghosts inhabited castles. Even Muggle ghosts were welcome within the walls. It added atmosphere.

”This is going to be good, yes!” Peeves gloated, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Then he turned invisible too, and followed the ghosts, bow-tie awhirl.

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Snape and Hermione emerged in the entrance hall. A smiling Filch gave a loud whistle and waved at them in passing as he rode a stairwell above.

”Filch certainly likes you, Severus,” Hermione observed.

Snape didn’t answer her. He was looking around the entrance hall with a furrowed brow. Something didn’t feel right. He stopped walking. Hermione continued on a little ways before she realized he had stopped. She stopped walking too.

”Severus? Why did you—“

”Shhh!” he hissed at her, looking about the hall.

”Don’t you shush me, you—“ Hermione began then screamed as she was suddenly surrounded by maggoty ghosts. They looked horrid, strips of skin and bones showing, partial skulls visible as they moaned and circled her trailing rags and apparently dropping flesh.

Snape drew his wand immediately as Hermione screamed and cowered as the moaning ghosts menaced her. Then, he paused.

Wait. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts.

Snape put his wand back in his pocket and folded his arms. None of the ghosts came after him, so someone must have heard her little declaration down in the dungeons and didn’t take it too well.

Hermione screeched and ran down the entrance hall toward the Great Hall, pursued by rotting knights, horses and ghosts. They looked so horrible! She tugged on the doors but the hall was locked.

”Leave me alone! Get away!” Hermione screamed, covering her eyes.  Peeves nearly pissed ectoplasm in glee as he watched the show, his wide mouth stretched even wider at Hermione's dilemma. He was doubly delighted because she had no idea he was at the bottom of it all.  Peeves had struck again.

The ghosts all passed through Hermione' body, moaning and wailing horribly as they chilled her to the bone. Having a ghost pass through you was the equivalent of being under a freezing shower without the wetness. She shivered against the door, her arms clasped around her shoulders and eyes still closed.

”So—you’re not afraid of ghosts,” a soft voice full of mirth stated.

Hermione opened one eye and looked at Snape. One side of his mouth was twisted upward and twitching. He so wanted to laugh.

Hermione straightened and pushed past him, haughtily heading for the stairs. He ran to catch up to her, saying nothing as they walked up the stairwell together, then down the first floor corridor, then up the narrow stairwell that led to the second floor and first of the shifting stairwells. Peeves followed them invisibly.

As they mounted the first landing, Hermione broke the silence, glaring at Snape.

”Why didn’t you help me?” she hissed at him. Snape blinked at her.

”What was I supposed to do? They’re ghosts. They don’t really interact with the real world, although, you’d never know that by the way you screeched like a Banshee,” he replied, smiling openly now. “So, do you still believe you’re not afraid of ghosts?”

”They didn’t look normal! They were all rotted and maggoty. Anyone would have been scared, Severus. They were horrible. You could have told them to stop or something!”

”What am I? A ghost whisperer? You brought it on yourself, Hermione. One of them must have heard you say you weren’t afraid of them.”

Grinning, Peeves faded away.  His work was done here.

Hermione frowned.

”But, they don’t want anyone to be afraid of them, Severus. They never scare anyone.”

”Never?”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh.

”All right, they scared me. But I wasn’t expecting them to do it.”

”That’s the nature of ghosts. They pop up and scare people when they least expect it. Hermione, you really need to learn not to voice everything you think. This is the second time it’s gotten you into trouble. You need to think before you open your mouth,” Snape admonished her. “Remember what you said in front of your friends? Words have consequences—“

”Stop talking down to me, you git!”

“Don’t call me a git, you little—little minx!”

”I’ll call you what I like, you arrogant prig!”

”Prig? Prig? Why you little—“

Snape pinned Hermione to the banister and snogged her to silence.

”There. That’s the way to shut you up,” he said to her softly, his eyes heated.

Hermione stared back at him.

”Oh—just shut up and get me to Gryffindor tower,” she murmured, reddening as he smiled at her.

Snape did just that, giving her another snogging at the tower entrance, the Fat Lady tittering and blushing as she witnessed the couple.

”I don’t do snogging in the corridors, Severus,” Hermione panted as they broke apart.

”You didn’t do snogging in the corridors,” he purred back at her. “Obviously, you do now.”

Hermione turned crimson.

”Good night, Severus,” she said quickly, giving the password so the Fat Lady’s portrait swung open and let her in.

”Goodnight, Hermione,” he replied, watching the painting swing back. He had a sense of déjà vu, remembering when he used to walk Lily to the tower. But there was no snogging, no closeness or blushing. Just a quick goodbye as Lily flounced off.

Snape inhaled deeply, still able to smell Hermione’s scent lingering in the air. This was so much better than when he wanted Lily. She was just a fading memory now. Hermione was all he wanted and needed. Smiling crookedly, he turned and headed down the hall.

”Goodnight, Severus,” the Fat Lady sang out teasingly behind him.

Snape paused, the smile still on his pale face.

”Good night,” he responded, starting to walk again.

And it had been a very good night.

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A/N: Lol. You know, I hardly write about the Hogwarts ghosts or Peeves anymore. I thought a little cameo of them would be nice as well as entertaining. Snape was terrible. He could have helped her somehow. Lol. Thanks for reading. :)

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