The Burning Pen

A Turn for the Better
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 14 ~ The Story

"Welcome to detention, Miss Granger," Snape said, rising from his chair when Hermione entered his classroom.

"Hello, professor Snape," Hermione replied, hoping her voice didn't betray the sense of trepidation she felt as she walked into the wizard's presence. She flinched slightly when he pulled out his wand and used it to close and ward the door behind her, adding a Silencing spell. He noticed her jumpiness.

"Miss Granger, please, don't be nervous," he said to her kindly. "You are safe here. You will always be safe with me. Please take your seat."

Hermione walked up to the first row of desks and took her usual seat. Snape sat down once she did. He studied the witch. She looked a bit like a frightened rabbit. He needed to make her feel comfortable. He knew just how to do that.

A bit of debate.

"So, did you find the book enlightening?" he asked the nervous witch.

"Yes," Hermione said shortly.

Snape nodded.

"Why is it, Miss Granger, if you believe you actually went back in time, that you aren't caught in a time loop? Logic dictates that in order to go back in time, you have to have a point of origin. If you don't, there's no way you could go back in the first place, nor could you advance into the future because you would be constantly returning to the past when you reached the point of origin. Paradox."

Hermione frowned slightly. Was professor Snape trying to convince her that she didn't go back in time? But she knew she did. The Time Turner, the dreams, the physical proof she found that she could only know about because she had either been to or heard about those areas before all pointed to time travel.

"That might be true if you are talking about linear time, or time that moves only from point A to point B, professor. But time also occupies space. Anything that occupies space can shift out of sync once the stream is disturbed," she said a bit argumentively. "If a new stream is created, it can flow unimpeded by the old stream. What originally was, is no longer when time becomes linear again. Just imagine time as a river that branches . . ."

Snape smirked inwardly as he listened to Hermione use the river branch analogy to explain why there was no time loop, the witch relaxing as she warmed to her topic. He could tell she was making a firm case in order to stop him from even suggesting she hadn't gone back to the past. She was in her element now. She talked for about fifteen minutes, ending with, "So you see, professor, that's why there's no time loop."

"I agree, Miss Granger. My thoughts exactly," he responded, and she rewarded him with a smile.

"So I did go back in time?" she asked him.

Snape looked at her consideringly, then stood up and walked from around his desk, standing in front of it.

"Let me tell you a story, Miss Granger. I'll keep it short and to the point. There was a young wizard who came up in less than savory conditions. He was odd, poor and had a less than stellar home life. Then he received a Hogwarts letter and believed his entire world would change. That he could escape his dismal existence and become someone of worth, someone who would be respected, and maybe even revered."

"That was you, wasn't it, professor?" Hermione asked him, and Snape nodded slightly.

"But he found that conditions weren't much better for him, due to the fact he was targeted by his peers. Instead of becoming expansive, he closed in upon himself, studying fervently, distancing himself from almost all others . . .

Snape paused slightly as he remembered Lily, then cleared his throat and continued.

"He had a great passion for books and collected them obsessively. He also had a way with spells, developing his own for protection from those who constantly harassed him. But most of all, he had a way with potions and brews, and early on discovered a method known only to himself, how to combine usually volatile ingredients in a way that they wouldn't explode, utilizing magic and skill. This ability allowed him to concoct potions that no one else could without killing themselves. This information got back to a very influential wizard with dreams of making the Wizarding World a better place, and he took this talented young wizard under his wing, promising him power and respect in exchange for his developing a very special brew. A brew that would give him great power. The young wizard worked on such an elixir and had some small successes. But the use of the elixir was quite painful. Still, this influential wizard suffered through the agony, his power becoming greater each time, as did his lust for more power. He promised the young wizard he would remove his enemies permanently if he could make the potion stronger, and brought him a new ingredient. Venom from his familiar to utilize. The bond between this wizard and his familiar would give even greater power and the young wizard found the right medium and created a potion so potent, it would increase a wizard's power twenty-fold. But the price, the price would be his humanity."

"Voldemort," Hermione breathed, and again, Snape nodded.

"During this time, the young wizard lost both his parents and felt the only person in the world who cared about his welfare and his future was this influential wizard. He was working hard toward his goal. He wanted his enemies dead, and he wanted a world that wouldn't look down on him. He was promised this and wanted it as much as his next breath," Snape said, his eyes unfocused as he remembered how strong the lust for power was.

Suddenly, his black eyes shifted to Hermione intensely.

"The night before the young wizard was to deliver this powerful elixir, he received a visitation from a witch, clad only in her bra and knickers," he said softly.

Hermione reddened. Why had she come to him that way?

"I believe she came that way to keep the young wizard from instantly killing her when he found out she knew what he was up to. It worked. He stopped long enough to listen to her and take what she offered. A Pensieve from the future. His future," Snape said in a haunted voice. "That Pensieve contained atrocities and tortures so horrible, so hideous, it was next to impossible to believe. It showed the young wizard what his life would become if he followed that path. It also showed what would be lost . . ."

Snape fell silent for a moment as he remembered himself in Dumbledore's office, falling apart at the death of Lily Evans, who had been murdered by Voldemort. Although they no longer spoke, he still harbored feelings for her, and blamed himself for her death. He had been waiting to apply for the position of Potions master at Hogwarts, when he overheard Albus' interview with Sybil Trelawney, who went into a trance and spoke a prophecy. He only heard part of it, because he was removed from the area by the owner of the establishment where interviews were being held. It was that information that eventually led Voldemort to kill the Potters and leave Harry Potter an orphan and target.

"Go on, professor," Hermione said softly.

"After viewing that Pensieve, the young wizard knew he had but one choice . . . to stop the influential wizard's rise to power. So, he poisoned him."

Snape looked at Hermione soberly.

"And that changed everything, Hermione Granger. Everything."

Hermione stared up at the wizard as he slowly approached the desk, placed two hands on it and leaned down, so his pale face was inches from her own. Hermione met those deep, dark eyes and felt as if she were about to be swallowed down into their depths.

"It was a brave thing you did, Miss Granger. So many things could have gone wrong in taking a journey so far back in time. You could have been lost to time, or gone back too far. The window for success was incredibly, incredibly small, but somehow . . . you managed to make it back to me, and save the wizarding world as we know it. There are many alive today that wouldn't be without your intervention. There are others whose lives would have been very different because of loss. Yes, I stopped Voldemort . . . but . . . Hermione . . . you stopped me."

The professor's voice was so soft, silken and compelling, and his use of her given name washed over her like a caress. Hermione helplessly closed her eyes, her mouth pursing slightly as if waiting for a kiss.

Snape looked at her, longing to touch his lips to hers . . . it would be the perfect moment to do so, to find out if what she felt was more than a fleeting attraction . . .

But he drew back.

He had to.

Hermione felt him withdraw and opened her eyes. They were wet and glistening.

"So, you murdered Tom Riddle," she stated softly.

Snape shook his head.

"No. I exterminated him. He was vermin of the worse sort. He would have overrun our world as surely as rats overran Hamlin town. It was a service, not a crime," the wizard said. "So now, you know the story, Miss Granger. You did indeed change time, and those dreams you are having are the memories of what life was like before. I don't believe they will become overwhelming however. You will remember them just the way you remember dreams. You still have this reality."

Hermione blinked at him, steeled herself and said, "You've told me the overall story, professor, but not . . . the details. I need to know the details. I haven't seen them clearly in my dreams and I need to know what happened between us."

Snape stood there a moment, then said, "Ask me what you need to know."

Hermione colored crimson, and Snape realized that she knew they had engaged sexually, just not the conditions.

"Didyousleepwithme?" Hermione blurted out.

Snape raised both eyebrows at the unintelligible stream of language she spouted at him.

"Ask me again, Miss Granger, slower this time," he told the red-faced witch.

"Did . . . you . . . sleep . . . with . . . me?" she asked him.

"We shared a bed, Miss Granger, but we did not sleep," he replied, then waited for the inevitable next question.

"Did we have sex?"

"Yes. Yes we did."

"Did you . . . did you force me?"

"No. I asked you. You agreed."

Hermione let out a little sigh of relief. It would have been horrible if professor Snape had raped her. She looked up at him curiously.

"Did I . . . did I like it?" she asked him softly.

Snape gave her a soft, fleeting smile at her question.

"Yes. Yes you did. You liked it very much," he said softly, "as did I. I told you that being with you was worth a world or two."

Hermione flushed, and looked down at the desk in front of her, then said, "The only physical proof I have that I actually traveled to the past, is that . . .is that . . ."

She hesitated.

"Tell me," Snape urged.

"Is that my hymen is broken. It happened right after you returned me to my room. I was bleeding and didn't know what happened. I went to Madam Pomfrey and she was sure I had sex with someone, when I didn't . . . but, I guess I did."

Snape just stared at her for several minutes, unable to find the words to fit this situation. She had been deflowered by him in the past . . . but he had no idea that his taking her virginity would be realized in the present.

Good gods, he was still her first in this timeline.

Paradox was a bitch.

"Professor Snape," Hermione called softly.

He had been staring at her, but not really seeing her. He focused.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he responded.

"What . . . what does this make us?" she asked him, butterflies battering the walls of her belly and somewhat lower.

"Heroes," he replied, "it makes us heroes, Miss Granger. Unsung and unknown."

Hermione took this in. That wasn't the answer she wanted when she asked him that. They had been intimate. It might have happened almost twenty years ago, but they still had sex. He still was the first lover she ever had, and what was sad about it, was she didn't even remember what it had been like.

"I mean . . . I mean the other thing. Us sleeping together. What does that make us?" she pressed him.

Snape sighed. He couldn't, wouldn't say it made them nothing. To do so would hurt her and more than likely ruin any future chance with the witch after graduation.

"It makes us two people . . . with a history," he said softly, hoping this would satisfy the witch.

Hermione stared at him, then asked, "Professor, you must have recognized me the moment you heard my name at the Sorting ceremony. How did you react?"

Snape relaxed a little. Now they were moving to a bit safer ground.

"I was rather shocked. I had relegated you to the position of some kind of sentient dream, or prophetic vision. For a short while, I felt guilty about disposing of Tom Riddle, but once his body was found, I read about all the atrocities he had committed and knew I had indeed done the right thing. When you appeared, I realized that you had indeed returned to the past to help me and save the world from Tom Riddle."

"So that's why you haven't given me as hard a time as everyone else," she said to him.

"I'm a Slytherin. I practice nepotism all the time," he responded wryly. "If I favor students simply because they are in my house, how much more am I going to favor the young woman that changed the dark path of my life? But I assure you, I've never given you anything more than you deserved. I haven't padded your marks . . ."

"I'll say," Hermione snorted, "you don't give me the marks I deserve, if you ask me."

Snape chuckled.

"There's a reason for it, believe me. Miss Granger. I'll explain it to you after graduation," he promised. "I hope you are keeping up with your studies. You have to do well on your exams for me to extend the apprenticeship. If those dreams are interfering with your sleep, you need to take the draught Poppy prescribed for you."

Hermione didn't answer, because she didn't want to lie to him. Actually, she'd been so caught up in dream chasing and chamber finding, she barely opened a book at all. Neville was better off. He studied while she was off doing other things and not dragging him around the castle by the wrist.

"You are keeping up with your studies, aren't you?" Snape asked her suspiciously when she didn't answer.

Hermione knew she had to say something or else he might wonder what else she was up to.

"Professor, have you ever known me not to study? Especially when tests were approaching?" she asked him, question for question.

"No, I haven't. But this situation is not common. It might affect your study habits, be distracting."

Distracting? He didn't know the half of it.

"I'll be fine, professor," she said to him, hoping that would be enough.

It was.

Silence ensued for several moments, then Snape said, "You may go if you like, Miss Granger. We are finished here."

Hermione looked at him. She really didn't want to go, there was so much more she wanted to know about their night together, but she was embarrassed to ask him for intimate details, although she had every right to ask.

Snape divined something was wrong.

"What is it, Miss Granger? You look . . . troubled," he said to her, concern in his eyes.

Hermione's heart began to pound a bit as she summoned up the courage to tell him what was bothering her.

"Professor, a witch's first time is supposed to be something . . . something meaningful, special. Something she'll always remember," she said softly, looking down at her hands, unable to look him in the eye. "But I don't remember any of it . . . nothing of what happened. What you said to me . . . what I said to you, what we . . . what we did . . . or how we did it. It's like there's a big hole inside me."

Snape nodded.

"I understand completely Miss Granger, but I don't think it is appropriate for me to give you blow by blow intimate details considering I am your teacher and you are my student. It stretches the limits of propriety," he said softly as Hermione's face fell.

She looked so sad.

"Wait here," he told the witch, and disappeared into his lab for about five minutes.

He returned with a small Pensieve, sealed. He offered it to the witch.

"Take this. It is my memory of that night. But I warn you, Miss Granger, it is not the romantic coupling that young witches dream of. I was young, eager and impatient. I imagine I reacted to you much like Mr. Potter did when you appeared in his room dressed as you were. I hauled you into my bed as well, although I gave you a choice whether or not to engage me."

Actually, he had coerced her, or seduced her with a bit of pressure. But it was still consensual.

Hermione felt a pulse in her belly as she accepted the bowl from the wizard. There was something about the way he was looking at her, as if there was more he wanted to say, but couldn't say.

Wow. He "hauled" her into his bed? She had to view this Pensieve.

"The memories in the Pensieve will dissolve after one viewing, Miss Granger. You will have to view it in entirety at one sitting. Once you leave it, it will not function again," he said softly, his dark eyes drifting over her.

Retrieving those memories had a stirring effect on the wizard. He knew her body, had handled it, taken it . . . possessed it. And she looked now just as she looked then.

She had to leave.

"Please go now, Miss Granger," he said to the witch thickly, swallowing.

Hermione watched his Adam's apple bob, her eyes narrowing just a bit. Was the professor nervous? Why would he be nervous? Was he feeling something he didn't want to feel? Hermione stood up, and was tempted to approach the wizard, just to see what he would do, but she decided against it.

"All right, professor. Thank you," she said to him formally, then tried to exit the classroom, but the door wouldn't open. He had warded it.

Hermione looked back at him.

"I can't get out, professor," she said, "the door is still warded."

She turned around and started walking back toward him, but Snape whipped out his wand and quickly removed the ward.

"I'm sorry about that, Miss Granger. You're free to go now," he said, running his finger around the collar of his robes as if the temperature in the classroom had risen several degrees.

Hermione smirked at him before turning and leaving without a word. She might not be completely savvy about relationships, but she knew the signs of a smitten wizard when she saw one. Snape could thank Neville for that.

The Potions master could have sworn he heard her chuckle as she exited the room.

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Hermione lay in her bed, one hand pressed to her belly, staring up at the ceiling, the now empty Pensieve resting on the nightstand by her bed.

Hermione was feeling hot all over. Snape was right, it hadn't been exactly romantic with him stripping down and expressing a bit of disgust that she was still a virgin. But once they talked a little, and he told her about how witches closed their eyes with him, and she told him how she felt about his older self, things went relatively well. He wasn't horrible to her, and was soothing in his way. He talked to her and praised her, and by the way she reacted to him after the initial pain, she could tell she did indeed like her first time. The look on her face was indescribable and now she felt an ache deep down inside her.

She wanted to know what it felt like for her to look and sound the way she did. What it felt like to have him on top of her, moving inside her body. Hermione shuddered deliciously.

She was never going to look at professor Snape the same way again. He might have been young when they shagged, but it was still him. He was still her first lover.

And by the way he rushed her out of his classroom, Hermione suspected he would like to be her lover again. He probably didn't say anything because he was so much older than she was now, and because was still her teacher. But she didn't think him too old. Her dad had twenty years on her mother and they were fine together. Snape had less than that on her.

And he wouldn't be her teacher forever. He only had a few months left.

Maybe after she opened the chamber, she could explore her suspicions about professor Snape a little more. Her little crush had left the realm of schoolgirl fantasy and turned into the definite interest of a young woman now.

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed for a little bit, then engaged in a small masturbation session to ease that compelling urge between her legs.

It wasn't very satisfying, but helped a bit.

Fretfully she fell asleep, dreaming of Snape as he was now, and monsters waiting in the dark.

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A/N: Now, that wasn't too bad was it? Snape has control, I give him that, although he lost his cool a bit at the end. Lol. Thanks for reading.

PLEASE REVIEW "A Turn for the Better"  >>>> NEXT CHAPTER

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