The Burning Pen

An Unlikely Savior
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.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 24 ~ Seeing the Truth

Outside, in Knockturn Ally, Odessa Divine was leaning on a wall near Cedric’s Sex Symposium, striking a sexy pose. She was trying to pick up a customer and make a fast couple of Galleons. But business was slow, and as pretty as Odessa was, she was getting up there in age. Prostitutes had a short shelf life and the witch was in her mid-thirties now. The younger hookers caught the eye much easier. Odessa had been through the wringer sexually and knew her craft, but experience not as important to clients as youth and beauty.

She stood there, watching people walk by, when another prostitute with blue eyes and blonde hair walked up to her.

”How’s tricks?” she asked Odessa, who made a face.

“Denise, I hate that greeting,” she hissed back at the woman, who smiled.

”I guess business isn’t that good, eh?” she asked.

”No, it’s not. If it were, I wouldn’t be standing here,” Odessa snapped, wishing Denise would leave. One hooker was enough. She was competition.

”How’d you like to make 200 Galleons?” Denise asked her.

”200? Are you serious?” Odessa responded, no longer leaning on the wall but standing straight up in interest.

”Yeah, for a little party. Six wizards. They want two girls for the night,” the prostitute replied as a tall man in black robes with his cowl drawn up approached them.

”Is that one of them?” Odessa asked her.

Denise turned and saw the wizard approaching and paled a little. Odessa noticed it, but Denise didn’t seem frightened. It was something else.

The man stopped and looked down at Odessa.

”Is this the other whore?” he asked in a deep bass voice. .

“Yes, I’m the other whore,” Odessa answered him boldly. “How much are you paying for this little party?”

”Six hundred Galleons,” he replied. “It will be a busy night. And we require whores that can keep their mouths shut. Some of the participants are important men with wives. They can’t go to the brothel.”

Odessa frowned at Denise, who had tried to keep 400 Galleons for herself. No wonder she went pale, the little thief.

”Finder’s fee,” Denise said weakly, knowing she’d been caught.

”Right, Denise.”

Odessa eyed the tall wizard, unable to see inside his cowl

”That’s a lot of money. What do you expect us to do?” she asked the man, who chuckled.

”Everything we want,” he replied. “Any and everything we want.”

Odessa had done orgies before, and she’d have to sleep with a hundred wizards to make 300 galleons. She could rest up for weeks with that kind of money in her purse.

”You’ve got yourself a whore,” Odessa said with a smile.

”Good,” the man replied, taking each of the witches’ arms.

They Disapparated.

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Snape entered Hermione’s mind, but the manner he did it was very much like entering a Pensive. He was inside a dark space and there was a corridor. On the right and left walls were various images. Snape immediately moved to the left wall which represented the left side of the brain, which processes pieces of information, lines them up in logical order and comes up with answers. The left side of the brain didn’t do details, but saw only the big picture first or answers, then worked things out intuitively. In other words, it worked backwards, having an answer and figuring out the process that led to it. Gut feeling had a lot to do with that side.

Snape slowly walked down the corridor, not really paying attention to any memories or thoughts not concerning the ritual. He did see a number of rather unpleasant thoughts concerning him being blasted, beaten bodily and even castrated with a meat cleaver. Snape winced, then shook his head. Hermione had quite a bit of resentment against him.

He picked up speed and walked back further. The memory was old and he had to wade through later years before he could hope to find it. After about twenty minutes he found what he was looking for, Hermione in his arms as they flew toward the Forbidden Forest. He watched it unfold, Hermione taking the flask from him and drinking from it. Then the memory became blurred and indistinct. Snape concentrated, using his own energy to bring the memories into focus. Slowly, they cleared.

Snape exited Hermione’s mind, still very focused on the witch’s memory, and tilted her head toward the Pensive, breathing a spell under his breath as he passed his wand around her head. Hermione was completely relaxed and didn’t struggle as Snape adjusted her head, pulling the Pensieve as close as he could, then he held his hand over it, tilting her head a little more.

Suddenly, silver liquid poured from Hermione’s ear, eyes, nostrils and mouth, flowing over Snape’s hand and filling the bowl. A bit missed, evaporating, but not enough so it would ruin the memories. Snape could see the memories as they poured over his hand, the bowl filling. When Hermione was about to burst through the trees, he tilted her head back and ended the spell. This was the same wandless extraction spell he used to share his memories with Harry.

Snape carefully picked up the bowl and set it on the small table next to the recliner, then looked down at Hermione.

”Your memories have been extracted,” he said softly. “You can get up now.”

Hermione still rested there, totally relaxed although she could hear him. It had been a long time since she felt so comfortable and she just wanted a few seconds more—

Suddenly she flipped forward with a jerk, her heart thudding as she sat erect in the chair. Snape had pulled the lever back, putting her in a sitting position. She looked up at him scowling.

“I was getting up,” she snapped at him.

”You appeared to need a bit of help,” Snape replied, pointing at the Pensieve. “There are your answers as to what you experienced that night. View them and when you reach the end, I will give you my Pensieve.”

Hermione blinked at the Pensieve, then lifted it and set it in her lap, Snape pulling the wooden chair around and sitting beside her, folding his arms. Hermione looked at him, hesitance in her brown eyes. Snape frowned slightly.

”You said you wanted answers and there they are, Hermione,” he said in a low voice. “I’d hate to think your assault on my person was in vain.”

“Even if I didn’t get answers, punching you in the nose wouldn’t have been in vain,” she retorted before looking down into the Pensieve. She fell still.

Snape studied her. No doubt she’d find the Pensieve interesting, but it was tame compared to the one that would follow.

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Hermione found herself a part of the Forbidden Forest that was mildly familiar. She looked about, then froze as she saw herself and professor Snape standing in the clearing. She walked closer and watched as the wizard pulled out an ornate flask and drank from it.

Immediately, his expression changed. His harsh features were softer, and a hint of a smile played around his lips as he passed the flask to the Pensieve Hermione.

”Drink.”

”What is it?”

”Magic. Drink it. You must if you are to be freed of your debt to me.”

Hermione watched herself take a small sip of the flask, then a larger one as Snape quickly sprinted across the open field. His robes billowed as he disappeared into the trees.

Hermione dropped the flask and looked completely inebriated as she breathed in deeply, a smile forming as she stared upward at the moon. A thin cloud crossed the face of it, then arched downward and swirled around her, her robes lifting as tiny fairies attended her. They removed her clothing. She started laughing as the fairies caressed her body, anointing her with oil. She looked at the grass and trees and stones as if listening. She began to sway, naked in the moonlight.

Hermione watched herself in disbelief as she acted more like nymph than a human woman. The fairies whirled around her, letting her dance for several minutes before a gauzy gown floated toward her and she was dressed in it. The gown seemed to have its own life, and moved around her body sensuously. She began to dance even more, leaping and frisking in the gown.

”Oh my gods,” Hermione said, shaking her head at her actions as the fairies frolicked with her.

“Hermione.”

A silken voice whispered across the glade, imploring her to follow it. It was Snape’s voice, but it was as if in her state of mind she couldn’t identify it for what it was.

”Who calls me?”

“I am the voice of your destiny. Be not afraid, come follow me. Answer my call, and I’ll set you free.”

A conversation ensued, Hermione continuing to dance and speak to Snape, but not following his voice, no matter how much he implored her.

Well, obviously even in this state she wasn’t making it easy for the wizard. Even the fairies were trying to make her go, but she continued dancing around the glade, completely carefree.

Then a beautiful stag appeared, and Hermione began to chase it. Real Hermione followed as she ran through the woods, the stag a distance before her as she called for it to stop.

Why the hell was she chasing a stag? It must be part of the magic. The voice wasn’t working so Snape sent something else to draw her in. A beautiful male animal.

That figured.

Hermione arrived at the edge of another glade, and the stag ran into a little wooden bower, made of sticks with flowers entwined in the branches. She watched as she ran toward it, then stopped.

”Who are you?”

Suddenly, Hermione was back in the recliner, Snape looking at her with an arched eyebrow.

“That—that was—different,” Hermione said to him, frowning slightly.

”Yes, I imagine watching yourself dance naked under the moonlight like a nature spirit would be something beyond ordinary,” Snape purred, standing up and taking the Pensieve out of her lap. He took it to the counter, set it down and picked up the other Pensieve that held his memories. He brought it to Hermione and handed it to her.

”But this is the Pensieve that contains the most important answers,” he said softly. “Are you sure you wish to see it? You already know the outcome. Eileen was conceived.”

”I want to see how you took her from me,” Hermione said. “I have to know how you did it.”

Snape’s dark eyes blazed into hers for a moment.

”Fine. Then you must see it all. Enter the Pensieve,” he growled.

Snape had tried to give the witch an out, but she was too stubborn to take it. Very well, let her see her abandon and wantonness. If she thought dancing naked was disturbing, this would be a hundred times worse. What was clear in the Pensieve was that it was she who drew him into the bower.

Then Hermione remembered her list.

”Reach into my right coat pocket. I have a list of questions there about Eileen that I need you to answer. Such as when her birthday is, favorite foods, favorite colors, things of that nature,” she told the wizard.

Snape nodded. It figured she’d draw up a questionnaire to find out about Eileen rather than question her directly. But then again, Hermione was always heavily into research. Apparently she thought this would be the best approach. He’d humor her.

”I’ll fill it out,” he promised.

”You’d better,” Hermione sniffed at him before focusing on the bowl in her lap. This was it.

Hermione swallowed, steeled herself, then entered the Pensieve.

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Hermione almost laughed as she saw Snape sitting cross-legged on the ground wearing skins and antlers. It was just so odd seeing the usually reserved wizard dressed so ridiculously. But to be honest, she was hardly dressed any better. The gossamer gown she wore was nearly see-through, the details of her body blurred but still visible.

Again, her Pensieve self gave Snape a hard time. He tried to embrace her and she danced away and mocked him. He pleaded with her to enter his bower, and she teased him, laughing at him, calling him a beast. He lunged at her and she ran.

Hermione couldn’t believe it as Snape chased her all around the meadow. He could easily have caught her if he wanted, and he did grab at her arms, but let her slip away. He wouldn’t let her leave the clearing, blocking her way with his body. Finally, breathless and laughing she ran back toward the bower, Snape right behind her as she entered the structure. Snape stopped outside of it, breathing heavily, staring in at her.

“I am the voice of the past that will always be,” Snape said softly. “Filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields. Bring me your peace. Bring me your peace, and my wounds, they will heal.”

Hermione watched as she took the wizard’s hand and gently pulled him into the bower with her. Then she gasped at the way the wizard pounced on her, kissing her deeply and tearing the gossamer dress from her body hungrily, manhandling her as she gasped, allowing it, not fighting him at all but arching into him.

Snape roughly turned her and bent her over, pulling open his skins and lifting his loin cloth. Hermione’s eyes rounded as she briefly saw the size of his cock before he ruthlessly drove it home, snarling.

Hermione howled as they began to—to mate. That was the only way she could describe what was happening in the bower. It was a totally animal act. No kissing, no caressing, not even any words. There were grunts, shrieks, cries of pleasure and nothing but pure wantonness. The expression of bliss on her face was disconcerting. Snape was fucking her for all he was worth and it was clear she loved it. But, it was so brutal. Hermione never liked rough sex and didn’t engage in it, but here she was, being royally reamed, Snape holding on to her tightly, pulling her into his stroke, his face contorted, low lip caught between his teeth, grunting like a beast with every thrust.

Dear gods, she wanted out of the Pensieve, but found she couldn’t leave. He had locked her in. She had to stay and watch until it was over. It seemed to go on forever, her body jerking, her head hanging now as Snape continued, driven by his desire and his intent. It didn’t look like pleasure for him, but work and hard work. Finally, he let out a howl and slammed against Hermione, curling over her and molding his body to hers, tight against her buttocks. They stayed locked like that for a full three minutes before he gently lowered her to the ground, withdrawing his organ. It hung long, wet and limp before the loincloth dropped. Hermione saw she was surrounded by a soft glow.

Snape walked deeper into the bower, leaving her on the ground apparently asleep. In a few moments he returned fully dressed, his wand in one hand and a fertility statue in the other. He flipped it open and pointed his wand at Hermione, rotating the tip over the small of her back while chanting softly. The glow around her brightened and a tiny glowing dot emerged through her skin, surrounded by some kind of thick liquid. Snape put it inside of the statue and closed it.

So, that’s how he did it. Then he dressed her and carried her through the forest. He stopped to collect the fallen flask, then hissed “Locomordres” and flew towards the castle with her.

Hermione came out of the Pensieve and stared at Snape.

”That was awful,” she said in a whisper.

Snape gave her a thin smile.

”I beg to differ. I thought I gave a stellar performance if I do say so myself,” he purred at the scowling witch.

What happened next, happened quickly. Hermione just sat there, her arms folded and a satisfied expression on her face.

“I swear, if you do that again, Hermione, I’m going to strike you back, witch or no witch,” Snape said nasally from behind the counter as he pointed his wand at his bleeding nose for the second time of the night.

”Episkey,” he hissed.

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A/N: lol. Thanks for reading.

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