The Burning Pen

The Ring

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

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 12 ~ The Dream

Snape felt his heart clutch.

“Hermione?” he asked, his black eyes fixed on the face of the witch with amazement

She blinked up at him and frowned a little.

“I know I must be dreaming, because you’ve never called me anything but Miss Granger since I’ve known you,” she said.

“Yes, you are dreaming,” Snape replied, wanting to see if he could touch her.

Hermione visibly relaxed then. She was dressed in her staff robes and had her wand in her hand. She looked around.

There certainly isn’t much here,” Hermione commented, looking at the empty gray space.

Snape considered her.

“Well, this is the stuff of your dreams, Hermione. Possibly if you imagine some other setting, it will appear,” he said.

Hermione thought about the Professor’s study. Suddenly the gray space pulsated, disorienting her, then she was in the study. A roaring fire was in the hearth. She looked around. The Professor wasn’t there. Her face fell. She had so much she wanted to ask him.

Suddenly the wall slid up, and Snape walked through.

“Seems I was standing where the office appeared,” he said, giving her a smirk. “But where are my pickled creatures? They’re gone.”

Hermione winced at having to tell him the new Potions Mistress removed them.

“Ah, so that’s what happened to them,” Snape commented. She looked at him. She hadn’t said anything.

“I guess we don’t need to actually talk. I saw an image of them being moved, probably from your mind,” he said, walking closer to her. Hermione suddenly thought of his kiss, and Snape gave her a small grin.

“I see my kiss impressed you,” he said in a low voice, his black eyes searching her face. It was so good to see her, to be close to her.

“Well, it startled me. You were the last person I ever expected to want to kiss me,” she replied. Snape gave her a rather hot look for a dead wizard.

“As I said at the final battle, that was only one of the things I wanted to do to you,” he said, his face sober for a moment. Then he offered her his arm.

“Come, let us sit and talk, Hermione,” he said. The witch hesitated and took his arm, surprised that he felt solid and warm.

“I can feel you,” she said, looking up at him.

The Professor found this quite interesting.

“Can you feel this?” he asked her, leaning down and kissing her lightly. Hermione’s stomach did small loops at the contact.

“Yes,” she breathed, “I definitely felt that,” she said.

The Professor gave a wry grin and walked her over to the armchairs in front of the fire, and helped her into a chair, before taking the other one. He looked at her.

“You must have a lot of questions for me,” he stated, his eyes sweeping over her, and remembering his little peep show. He felt a tightening in his loins. Yes, he was definitely still with the living as far as the witch was concerned.

“Yes, I do,” Hermione said. She felt braver than she normally would. This was a dream after all and she could be candid with him.

“Professor, I get the distinct impression that you were interested in me beyond the interest of one associate in another,” she said.

“Yes, Hermione. I was and am very attracted to you. I have been since your seventh year,” Snape admitted.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I understand when I was a student why you wouldn’t, but once I returned to Hogwarts as a staff member, you could have said something then,” she said.

Snape looked at her.

“Would you have returned my interest if I had, Hermione? As dark and ill-tempered as I am?” he asked her.

Hermione considered.

“You weren’t dark or ill-tempered with me, Professor. I was quite shocked at the respect you showed me when I returned to Hogwarts. I was sure you’d be dismissive of me,” Hermione stated, her amber eyes meeting his.

“You worked very hard to earn your degree, Hermione. Actually you worked hard from the first day you entered Hogwarts as a bushy-haired little know-it-all. I’ve always respected your mind, if not your choice of friends. They put you in more danger than necessary. I was rather surprised you made it to graduation. Your determination and brilliance got you the position on the Hogwarts staff. You deserved to be there. I had no problem accepting you. I was no longer your teacher, so I was no longer obligated to keep you on your toes,” Snape said with a slight smirk.

“So why didn’t you say anything?” she asked him.

“I was still in the service of the Dark Lord. To show an interest in you then would have placed you in great danger. I would never willingly place you in danger, Hermione,” he said.

Hermione looked at him. She certainly was up to her neck in danger right now.

“I don’t know if that’s completely so, Professor. Fulfilling your last request is shaping up to be pretty dangerous. I was almost robbed and raped tonight. The man wanted your ring, as well as my virtue,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“But he did neither, did he?” the Professor responded, “The ring protected you. It will always protect you, until…”

“Until what, Professor,” she asked. There was a condition on the ring’s protection?

“Until you complete my last request. Then you will no longer require it to protect you,” he said obtusely. “It will no longer be necessary.”

“Why?” she asked.

Snape hesitated. “I hesitate to tell you that at this point, Hermione. Suffice it to say that it will help you reach the ancestral tomb. It will also assist you in completing the task of returning the box. Trust me,” Snape said, taking her hand in his and kissing it.

Hermione looked at him.

“Why did you ask me to travel without magic, Professor? I have no way to protect myself,” Hermione said frowning at him. “I’m in a strange land full of strange people, heading for a strange place, and I am defenseless when everyone around me has magic,” she said.

“You have nothing to fear from the citizens of Mu, with the exception of my cousins, who will want the ring from you. I requested you not travel with your wand because magic triggers many of the protections on the mountain. They were made to stop the citizens from reaching Snape Manor and attacking it. Since they are inherently magical, the protections immediately attacked them. In your case, though you are inherently magical also, you require a wand and spells to activate your power. You do not radiate it as the Lemurians do. Most of the protections will not react to you. The ones that do, the ring will help you past them. That is why I asked you not to travel with magic. Your charms are inanimate, they will not trigger the protections either.” Snape explained.

All right. That made sense. Now she was curious about his ancestry.

“Were you born on Mu, Professor?” she asked.

“No, Hermione. My part of the family left Mu many generations ago. My people were of the ruling caste, much different than the workers both in appearance and power. When the continent sank, my family began to fight among themselves, primarily over the ring. Battles and feuds ensued, with immediate families occupying different parts of the Manor, which is huge. There were poisonings, stabbings and all type of murder and injury between them. Finally my grandfather many times removed, secured the ring and using its power, took his family from Mu. The rest of the family could not follow him. The restrictions on Mu still retain their power and no one can just leave and enter. It is said the family originally settled in the Mediterranean, then migrated to other parts of the world from there. I was born and raised in England, just as you were. However, I was the first of our generation in hundreds of years to be born with full ancestral powers, the powers of the overseers.”

Hermione drew in a deep breath. That was why he was able to destroy the deatheaters the way he did. He had the full power of the Lemurians running through his veins. The Professor continued.

“I was quickly schooled not to reveal them, as the wizards and witches here had no abilities as I did. My father taught me control and discipline over them so they would not manifest when I became angry or excited. Since I was still a wizard, I received my letter from Hogwarts and attended the school, learning the magical techniques and spells practiced here. The combination of spells and incantations made me even more powerful. I was hell-bent to conceal them, especially with the Marauders constantly harassing me. Harry was lucky he was ever born. I was tempted several times to blast his father to bits. Only my discipline saved him.”

Snape grimaced at the memory. Potter had been a real thorn in his arse. He shook it off and continued to speak, wanting to satisfy the witch’s curiosity about him completely. He had never told anyone his history before. Yet, he felt it important that she know as much as possible about him. He continued.

“I was very interested in Potions rather than wand-waving, simply because of my nature, and so that was the course of study I chose. My parents died when I was in my fourth year, and the ring was passed on to me. My father had never used its power, so neither did I. There was no reason. I was powerful enough without it. After my parents’ death, Albus tried to take me under his wing. But he was a Gryffindor, and I was a Slytherin. I didn’t appreciate his kindness and joined the Dark Lord. When I sought to break away from Voldemort, Albus enlisted me as a spy and gave me the position of Potions Master. You know the rest.”

He fell silent.

Hermione stared at the Professor, fascinated. So much rich history behind the wizard. He had been even more powerful than Albus, and maybe Voldemort. She wondered how he died.

“Professor, how did you die?” she asked him.

He looked at her, his black eyes going liquid. A quiet fire burned behind them.

“Killing Voldemort,” he replied, “I had to die with him in order to remove him from the wizarding world.”

Hermione gasped. He had made the ultimate sacrifice for all of them. And no one knew but her. Yet, this was only a dream. She could be imagining all of it. But it just seemed too detailed, and the Professor seemed too real.

“Professor, are you a figment of my imagination?” she asked him.

Snape looked at her. Should he reveal his status to her? If he did so, then that would be tantamount to revealing her entire purpose. No, he would have to keep the secret for now. He stood up and took her hands and drew her up to him.

“Do I feel like a figment, Hermione?” he asked her softly.

“No,” she whispered, the warmth of his hands seeming to run up her arms and wash over her body. She swayed a little.

Snape studied the witch, then asked the question that had been left unanswered.

“Hermione, if I had told you of my interest in, my desire for you, would you have accepted me?’ the Potions Master asked, his eyes fixed on her face.

This was a dream. Hermione could be honest in a dream. It wasn’t as if this was the wizard himself. He was gone, beyond her.

“Professor, I was always attracted to you. Intellectually and physically. You were dark, dangerous, courageous and incredibly sexy. I am certain I would have accepted you, if you had only told me how you felt,” she replied, blushing at her own forwardness.

Snape wished he had known how the witch had felt about him. But no matter, he knew now.

“So,” he said, “If I were alive, and had told you my feelings…do you think we would have become lovers? Would be lovers now?” His pale fingers caressed the back of her hands as he asked her this question.

Hermione flushed, her whole body turning crimson.

“I think there was a good chance you would have been the one to deflower me, Professor,” she said, her heart pounding as she looked into his face, and saw the desire there. Why did this have to be a dream?

The Professor felt a powerful pulse of lust wash over him at the witch’s answer. This was a dream, but they could feel each other. For a moment he thought of seducing her. Even dream-sex would probably be quite satisfying. But, since he was not actually dead, if he deflowered her even in a dream, would that alter her virgin status? She was going to need that on her journey. He sighed mentally. He couldn’t take the chance.

Hermione watched as a number of emotions passed over the face of the Professor, all of them making her belly feel full of lacewings. This was a dream. She could do things with the Professor that she would never have dared do in the real world. She looked up at him.

“Professor, would you kiss me again?” Hermione asked him.

He lifted an eyebrow. She was asking him to kiss her. Obviously she was attracted to him.

“Certainly, Hermione,” he replied silkily. He pulled her into his arms gently, and lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers. They were warm, soft and willing. Snape felt his cock swelling as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and by Hermione’s gasp, she felt it too. But she didn’t draw away, on the contrary, she pressed into him.

The Professor ravaged the witch’s mouth, exploring every part of it hungrily. Without knowing it, he began to move against her, rubbing his body against hers sensually, suggestively. Hermione began to pant against his mouth, and her arms drew him tighter to her as she moved against him as well. The Professor’s hands slipped down her back, caressing it, before sliding over the swell of her ass. She made a little moan as he gripped her and pulled her against him, walking her back to the wall just on the side of the fireplace. Excited, his mouth slipped from her lips to her throat. He could taste her flesh. This was too real. The Professor was quickly losing himself and tried to draw back.

“Hermione, we need to stop,” he growled down at her. But her amber eyes were alight with desire.

“Why?” Hermione breathed, pulling him back against her body, “This is just a dream, Professor. We can do what we want and it won’t hurt anything. My virtue will remain intact in my waking state.”

Snape wasn’t sure about that. He allowed himself one more searing kiss and pulled away from the witch with effort. Hermione scowled at him, all heated up and wanting more.

“If you were prudish like this in life,” Hermione said angrily, “then we probably wouldn’t be lovers after all.”

Snape’s eyes flashed and he caught her wrist rather painfully. Hermione gasped as he leaned his face toward her’s. It was contorted with powerful emotion.

“I assure you, Hermione. I am no prude. I could do things to you that would make you get religion,” he seethed, “but…now is not the right time.” He released her.

Hermione rubbed her wrist. Dream or not, that hurt. Still she wondered what he could possibly do to her that would make an agnostic like her, actually worship something.

“What do you mean, it’s not the right time. It’s a dream, damn it! Time doesn’t matter here,” she stated. The Potions Master looked at her, then sighed.

“It matters in your world, Hermione. You must fulfill my last request. And then perhaps, if you are still willing…we might finish…this,” he said, his black eyes glittering at her. It was quite clear he’d like nothing better to indulge her desire.

Hermione was about to say something when the room and the Professor began to fade.

“No! Not yet! I don’t want to wake up yet!” she cried reaching for the Professor, but her arms passed right through him. He looked at her, a small smirk on his face.

“You’ll see me again, Hermione,” he said, his voice sounding hollow and distant now.

“When?” she cried after him as he faded out. His voice floated back to her.

“In your dreams,” he replied.

Hermione woke up gasping in her bed, startling Raucous who was perched on her headboard, his head tucked under his wing. He looked at her and cawed, concern in his beady black eyes as he blinked at her. Hermione twisted her head to look at the raven.

“I’m sorry, Raucous. I just had a dream about your former master,” she said, “It was so realistic. It almost turned into a wet dream.”

Raucous made a noise when she said this. Hermione wasn’t sure if it was meant to be laughter or disgust. She snuggled back under the covers, hoping to dream about the Potions Master again, and maybe finish what she started.

Snape was again drifting among the stars and looking at the witch trying to return to the dream. He watched as she fell asleep, but no mist arose as her breath rose and fell. She was in a dreamless sleep this time. Snape was relieved. She had been quite seductive overall. He doubted he could have resisted her a second time, not after coming so close.

He looked at the witch, and felt his chest constrict. She wanted him. Even though she thought he was dead. Well, if she successfully completed this journey, Hermione would get what she wanted, and then some.

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A/N: Well, quite a dream sequence. We got Snape’s family history and a little bit of lime. And now a definite connection between them. Please review.

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