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 19

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
*******************************


Chapter 19 ~ Arriving at the Tomb

Hermione woke up a bit later than she intended the next morning. She rolled over and sat up on her elbows, blinking up at the sun, which was rather high in the sky. Her mind flitted back to the dream she had the night before and she colored even as she felt a wave of heat wash over her. Such a lucid, erotic dream about the Potions Master. She wondered if she would continue to have them when she returned to Hogwarts. She hoped so. They were so much better than twiddling herself to orgasm. Maybe when she left the island her virginity was no longer an issue, the dream Snape would finally deflower her.

Hermione had convinced herself that her subconscious was the very creative source of her dreams about Snape, and her interludes with him were the result of their unconsummated relationship. She had never gotten the chance to explore a relationship with the Professor after he expressed his interest in her at the Final Battle, so her mind was creating scenarios where this was possible. Very detailed, juicy, erotic scenarios at that. It was wishful thinking that he could be brought back to her. Her heart hurt a little bit at that thought.

“Great, Hermione,” she told herself, “Falling in love with a dead man. How pathetic is that?”

Hermione roused herself, wriggled out of her sleeping bag, and stood up stretching. Raucous flew down from the tree and landed on her shoulder, rasping a greeting and giving her hair a “good morning” preen before hopping down to her pack and standing next to it expectantly, pecking at the flap a little. Hermione took the tie out of her hair, shook it out, then rebound it. She sniffed herself. She didn’t smell bad at all. It seemed the self-cleaning clothing also cleaned her body in the process. It made sense. It wouldn’t do to have clean clothes on a dirty body. She looked at the back of her trouser leg, where the wolf had grabbed her. There was a rip. If she ever took another journey she would be sure to have a self-mending spell on her clothing too. She walked over to her pack, and to Raucous’ chagrin, pulled out another pair of trousers. He complained.

“Just wait a minute Raucous. I need to change,” Hermione said to the hungry bird. As an afterthought, she pulled out a pair of knickers too. Her underthings were also self-cleaning but after her dream experience with the Professor, she felt she needed to change them anyway, even if it were only symbolic. Hermione looked around as if to see if anyone were watching her, then hesitated. She moved into the trees anyway and slipped off her trousers and her knickers.

Actually, two sets of eyes were watching her.

The first set belonged to Ozmadias, who was sitting on an outcropping on the mountain, his cold golden eyes taking in everything the witch did. He had slept on and off during the night. She was easy to observe this time, since she slept by the fire. He watched with interest as the wolves attacked. She was a very brave witch, if a small one. He also saw that she slept quite fitfully by the campfire, tossing and turning. At one point she let out a cry. After that, she’d slept peacefully. The bird blinked down at her as she walked into the trees to dress. She didn’t have far to go to reach the tomb. Only a couple of hours of hiking up the last part of the trail. She would come to a fork, one clearly leading to the Manor, the other leading to the tomb. He would report to his Mistress before she reached the top of the mountain.

The second set of black eyes belonged to the Potions Master. Snape watched as she walked into the trees, but she couldn’t hide from him since the image was focused exactly on her. He could pull the view back or move it closer. As she slipped off her pants…he zoomed in. Hermione removed her knickers and he got another nice little peep show before she slipped the next pair on. Her neatly trimmed pubic hair was starting to grow in, as was the hair on her legs. His black eyes glittered. He didn’t mind hair at all.

Today was the day the path of his life would be decided. Snape imagined if anything went wrong with his resurrection, the tunnel leading to the land of light would return to collect him. He hoped that didn’t happen. Drifting in the void had made him appreciate the life he had, as constrained as it was. With Voldemort gone, he would be free to live as he pleased. He might even pursue a future with Hermione if she would have him. Settle down. Have a family of brilliant bushy-haired black-eyed children. He knew he would never tire of the witch. He had been smitten with her for the past five years and imagined five hundred more wouldn’t change his attraction. Snape was a wizard who appreciated what little good came into his life, having been denied happiness for so long during his service to the Order. He would never forget what that was like. If Hermione accepted him, he would make sure she would always know she was loved. It would not be the candy and roses kind of love. Snape was not the candy and roses type. More than likely his affection would be expressed as the possessive, territorial, testosterone-driven “you’re my woman” kind of love. He hoped she could handle that.

When Hermione came in his arms last night, his last vestiges of doubt melted just as she did. He was not a wizard to easily give his heart. He had protected it for years. But he had watched Hermione grow up from a little girl during her time at Hogwarts. Not only was she brilliant, but she was kind, fiercely loyal, compassionate, loving and forgiving. This was not her personality…this was her soul. That she desired him meant more than lust. Not to say that she didn’t lust after him, because it was quite clear that she did, but she was not the kind of witch that differentiated between her physical and emotional desires. She would invest everything in her need for him. If she accepted him, she would love him, if she didn’t already. He was sure of this. To have that kind of love from a woman used to be something he didn’t even allow himself to dream of, not the way he lived his life. But now, he was a free man, which meant he was free to accept and to give love. He had denied himself too long.

Snape watched as the witch emerged from the trees and walked over to her pack and the screeching Raucous. He smirked as he looked at the bird. The familiar had shown more gumption than he ever imagined he could. Snape was sure that Raucous would choose to stay with the witch upon his return. He was fine with that. The raven had never seemed happier and had blossomed under the attention and love that Hermione gave him. Snape had never had time or the inclination to provide the bird with much companionship. Raucous had simply been a convenience, a tool, and in Hermione’s case a form of entertainment. The bird certainly gave her hell when he was with the Potions Master. Raucous was probably aware of Snape’s attraction to the witch and thought her a threat. Now the bird had fallen in love with her himself and was extremely protective of her. Yes, they were a good match. Much better than he and the Potions Master had been.

Hermione gave Raucous a strip of jerky, which the bird wrangled into a manageable position and holding it securely with one clawed foot, began to tear at the tough meat, ripping strips off it and swallowing them down quickly.

Hermione made sure that the campfire was completely extinguished, rolled up her sleeping bag and tied it to her pack. She retrieved the flashlight and the warming stone. The tent was ruined. The wolf had torn a piece out of it. Hermione left it where it was. She would just have to scrounge for shelter on the way back down. She had noticed crevices and caves in the mountainside on her way up. She was sure she could find a safe place to bed down on the return trip. The witch hoisted her pack on her shoulders, looked up the mountain path and took a deep breath. This was it. She was going to finish her journey. Raucous landed on her shoulder and gave her an encouraging caw. She looked at the bird.

“We’re almost there Raucous. We’ll be able to return home soon,” she said, looking down at the ring. It had brought them here. Hopefully it would take them home.

“Let’s go,” Hermione said to Raucous.

The bird put on his best ‘road’ face, which looked exactly the same as all his other expressions to Hermione. She smiled at him and they set off up the mountainside at a good clip. They ought to reach the top in about three or four hours.

*****************************

Vivaldi sipped his coffee and stared out the setting room window. He had to go to the tombs and lie in wait. He had decided to make Venoma stay in the Manor, to keep her out of the equation. Instead, he planned to take a contingent of male servants. He had spoken to them this morning, and promised to have a few prostitutes brought up to the Manor for a reward for their service. This met with much approval, and quite a few men volunteered to assist him. He would have ordered their assistance otherwise, so it was best to appear willing.

Vivaldi would use his servants to approach the witch and try to get the ring. But he had one other backup plan that still kept him out of harm’s way in case they failed. Vivaldi wasn’t a coward, but he didn’t believe in taking unnecessary risks. He didn’t know how the ring would respond to an attack on Snape’s messenger. He was a wizard who preferred to know what he was up against, and he had a strong sense of self-preservation. He would like to have the ring, but he had lived this long without it, and recently had re-established himself as the Lord of the Manor and Master of all who lived within its confines. But Venoma was right. He had to at least attempt to get the ring. If he failed, at least he would have tried.

“Good morning, brother,” a low voice greeted him. He didn’t turn around.

Vivaldi felt his half-sister’s arms slip around his waist, and her slim body press against his back. He was very familiar with every inch of that body now, inside and out. He had left no part of it untouched. He felt Venoma press her lips to his throat, and smiled a little. The wizard took her hands from around his waist and turned to her, his black eyes sweeping over her. She had that sloe-eyed look that his concubines wore. She was completely taken by him now. Total domination had that kind of effect on some women. Venoma was one of those women.

The witch took an occasional lover from among the servants every now and then to relieve her urges. But the men, although they performed adequately would never let loose on their Mistress, because of her position. They took her with a kind of fear that they would be punished if they were too rough or too demanding and she had to direct them to do the things she wanted. Her half-brother was the first to take her without hesitation and had done things to her in ways no servant ever had. He talked to her when he took her, said things no servant would ever dare say as he fucked her. Dirty things. And it had excited her. Venoma suspected she had more earth-shattering orgasms in one afternoon than she had in her whole life.

Venoma had never known Vivaldi was capable of such strength. He had seemed so gentle, composing love songs, strumming his lyre and singing to her with soft longing in his sweet tenor voice. Venoma had perceived her half-brother as being weak. Not strong like the wizards that came before him, but more like an adoring puppy anxious to roll over whenever she commanded it, willing to do anything to please her. But the young wizard had finally shown her without a doubt he was cut from the same cloth as the tyrants before him. All she had to do was release the Snape genes in him by insulting him and questioning his manhood. Well, Vivaldi had shown her over and over he was definitely a man. A very virile one as well.

Vivaldi kissed his sister’s hand, black eyes locking with black eyes.

“Good morning, sister,” he purred, “I trust you slept well?”

“Like the dead, my brother,” she replied, kissing him quite passionately.

Vivaldi pulled away, treating her like he would treat his overzealous concubines. Now that he had taken Venoma and the mystery was no longer there, he could handle her. She no longer had the power to bring him to his knees with lust and longing. He could have her when he wanted her now. He had tamed the shrew.

“Summon Ozmadias. I want to know the witch’s progress,” he commanded his sister. There was no longer need for the niceties of “please, sister” or “would you please?” His commands would be obeyed without question.

“Yes, my Lord,” Venoma breathed.

She placed her pale fingers to her temple and summoned her familiar as Vivaldi opened the window, searching the sky expectantly. Soon he saw a speck approaching, growing larger. He stepped back from the window as Ozmadias squeezed his bulk on to the sill. Venoma approached him, and stroked his crest. The bird looked at her, sensing a change in her demeanor. She no longer felt dominant. He blinked at Venoma curiously, and subtly searched his mistress’ mind as he sent her his images of Hermione. Ah, the wizard had mated with her and broken her. Well, that might make life a little easier on Ozmadias. He looked over at the wizard. He too felt different. More like the old ones. That was good too.

“The witch is almost at the tombs, Vivaldi,” Venoma said, “We should go now and set up an ambush.”

Vivaldi looked at Venoma coolly.

“There will be no ‘we’ Venoma,” he said, leveling his eyes at her. “I have decided to remove you from the equation. It will be difficult enough getting the ring without worrying about your motives. I have decided it would be in my best interests for you to remain in the Manor while I see about the witch. That way there will be no ‘accidents’”

“But…Vivaldi, I want to help,” Venoma said, her eyes pleading.

Vivaldi snorted.

“I don’t need or want your kind of help, sister. You are beautiful outside, but I know what beast lies within. You are a Snape too. And have the aspirations of a Snape. You would rule my Manor if you could, ousting or possibly killing me.”

Venoma started to protest this. Vivaldi held up his hand, silencing her.

“Don’t try to tell me otherwise, Venoma. You are staying here, under guard. If you injure any of my servants, you will pay dearly,” he snarled at her. “You will obey me in this matter. Do I make myself clear, sister?”

Venoma stared at him insolently for a moment, then dropped her eyes, defeated.

“Yes, my Lord,” she whispered.

“Good. All I ask is that you continue to give me the respect due to the Lord of the Manor, sister, and your life here with me will be rewarding. You may still run the Manor as you wish. But you will attend me when I want you.”

Vivaldi looked at her and his eyes softened somewhat.

“It may be, sister, that I will be unable to get the ring. If that is the case, then I will not be able to acquire a Snape bride from the outside, and we must keep our bloodline pure,” he said, his black eyes falling to her belly. “In the event this happens, you will have to be the one to bear my heirs. As my wife and the mother of my children, your place in the Manor will be secured, and you will have greater freedom and power as well as a greater place in my heart. So obey me, Venoma. Give me no reason to harm you, sister,” he said, taking the witch’s hand and kissing it tenderly.

“Yes, my Lord,” Venoma replied, even as she was mulling his words over. It would actually be in her best interest for him not to acquire the ring. As his wife, she would almost have equal power in the Manor. All she ever wanted was power.

Vivaldi let go of her hand and walked to the setting room door.

“You stay here,” he said, “The servants will be outside these doors with orders not to let you leave until I return. Behave, my sister.”

The wizard exited the rooms closing the door behind him.

Ozmadias watched the exchange with interest. Yes, power had definitely shifted hands in the Manor. Venoma looked at him.

“Go my pet. Watch and show me all that happens,” Venoma said to the bird, stroking his crest once more. Ozmadias met her dark eyes, then nuzzled her hand. He liked the softer Venoma. He dropped out of the window and flew for the tombs.

*********************************

Hermione stood at the fork in the road. There was a great outcrop of stone separating the forks. It was topped with boulders. To the left lay Snape Manor, an impressive edifice of stone, built more like a fortress than a mansion, with a gated portico and small rectangular windows that looked as if arrows would be shot out of them. Higher up she could make out glass windows and a sentry tower but couldn’t tell if anyone was in it. She looked at the path to the right. It swerved around the outcropping and she couldn’t see beyond the curve. Sparse brush and thin trees lined one side of trail. She took the right path heading for the tombs.

Vivaldi peeked down at the witch from the top of the outcropping. She certainly was a strange looking woman. Her hair was light brown and her eyes seemed to be gold. She was very small too. Not much bigger than a child of twelve or thirteen. But there was no mistaking her for a child. She had very feminine attributes, even if her strange clothing covered them. A black bird rode on her shoulder. Probably her familiar. Vivaldi turned to the group of wizards standing behind him. They were all servants from the Manor, twelve in all. They stood at attention as they watched their Lord and Master turn to address them.

“A witch is heading for the tombs,” Vivaldi said to the men. “She has something that belongs to me in her possession. A ring with the letter ‘S’ on it, made from onyx. She is wearing it on her right hand. I want this ring returned to me. The man who actually plucks the ring from her finger may ask a boon of me, which I will grant if it is in my power.”

The men murmured among themselves. A boon. They could ask Vivaldi for anything and he would be honor-bound to deliver it. However, the servants were shrewd, they knew not to ask for anything that would anger him. He might give it, then kill the servant afterwards…they had never seen Vivaldi do this, but other Snapes before him had. They noticed the change in the young wizard’s demeanor. His look was blacker, more intense. His bearing was that of a leader, a ruler. There had been whispers that the real Lord of the Manor was Venoma, but those rumors had been quickly quashed today when Vivaldi called them to service. The command in his voice and stance let them know quickly he was a wizard to be obeyed.

“Yes, my Lord,” came a dozen replies.

“She is walking to the tomb now. Intercept her at the tomb itself before she enters. It is not necessary to harm her, but if she resists, do what you need to do to retrieve the ring,” Vivaldi instructed. “And I don’t care what happens. If any of you flee, I will blast you myself.”

The servants blanched at this. They knew their Lord wasn’t making an idle threat. They had to get that ring.

“Go. She approaches,” Vivaldi commanded the men. They all filed down the outcrop and turned to the left, headed for the tomb. Vivaldi watched them go.

He had a grudging respect for the witch. No one had made it up the mountain by foot in generations. Not even a Snape could take the mountain path without triggering its defenses. Whoever she was, Severus has chose wisely. She had done her best for him. What kind of man inspired such loyalty in others? Vivaldi’s servants served him out of need and out of fear. He didn’t delude himself that they were loyal to him. No matter. As long as they did what he commanded, he was fine with them.

Ozmadias settled on a Manor turret, watching the scene unfold. He saw Hermione approaching the tomb and the contingent of servants rounding the path. This should be interesting.

***********************************

The first thing Hermione noticed was all signs of vegetation vanished. Nothing but stone lined the path now. Ahead of her was a face of rock, and in that face was a large black double door. It looked like it weighed a ton. The letter “S” was emblazoned on it in silver or white gold.. Hermione slipped her pack off and walked a bit closer to examine it. The door was overlaid with onyx and had no handle. Even if it did, she would not be able to pull the heavy stone open. She ran her fingers over the seam and felt a small indentation. She looked at it closer. It was a keyhole, a very small one. The Professor did not give her a key. How was she supposed to open the doors? She looked around. Piles of stones lay on either side of the great doors. She walked over to a pile and began to push on the stones, hoping to trigger the doors. Nothing happened. Suddenly Raucous let out a warning cry. Hermione spun and grabbed her staff, looking around.

A group of Lemurians approached, their brown eyes focused on her. The men stopped about thirty meters away.

“We have come for our Master’s ring,” one of the wizards said, “Give it to us and there will be no problems.”

Hermione scowled at them. So, the Lord of the Manor sent his goons after her to get her ring. Well, no way.

“This ring was given to me by its rightful owner, Severus Snape. It does not belong to your Master,” she retorted.

The men seemed surprised by this news and talked among themselves. Above them, Vivaldi watched the confrontation. He felt a bit uncomfortable at her statement. Still she was not a Snape. The ring should stay in the family.

The Lemurian turned back to her.

“The ring belongs to our Master. Give it to us, or we will take it by force,” the man said, frowning at her. She was a small witch and didn’t look very powerful. Suddenly something black dove at his face and he ducked. Raucous had taken a dive at him.

“Raucous! Get over here!” Hermione hissed.

Raucous was ready to fight. He flew to Hermione’s shoulder and glared at the group of men threatening her. If he had hands…

“I will not give you this ring,” Hermione said firmly. “I am here to fulfill the last wishes of a member of the House of Snape. You dishonor his memory by attempting to hinder me.”

The men murmured among themselves again.

Vivaldi scowled at all the unnecessary conversation. They should just go for the ring.

The men ceased talking. Their Lord had given them orders and they would fulfill him.

“If you will not give us the ring, then we will take it,” the man said, walking forward towards Hermione, who got a good grip on her staff and brought it to her shoulder, ready to take a swing. The wizard paused, then wriggled his fingers at her. The staff began to try to fly toward him. Hermione tried to hold on to it, but it dragged her toward the Lemurian. Finally she let it go and it flew to him. He caught it, and grinned at her. He dropped it on the ground and walked toward her.

“Look,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to get that ring. Now take it off, or I will have to remove it.”

“No,” Hermione said, backing up against the double doors and looking around for a weapon. Her eyes fell on several small stones. She picked them up and started throwing them at the wizard, who threw up his arms and kept approaching her. One rock got through, hitting him in the forehead. He stopped and rubbed his head, scowling at her. Then he started walking toward her with purpose, an angry frown on his face.

Raucous, unable to stand it any longer, flew straight at the wizard. But the wizard was fast and managed to grab hold of the bird, slamming him to the ground. Raucous was dazed and flapped ineffectively, unable to get up.

“Raucous!” Hermione screamed. She was so upset, she failed to see the ring had started to glow.

***************************
A/N: Hey all. Here’s another chapter. Hermione has made it to the tomb, but was intercepted by Vivaldi’s servants. Looks like a battle is brewing. Poor Raucous. Please review.

PLEASE REVIEW "THE RING" >>> NEXT CHAPTER

Return to Index Page

Number of Visits: