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 45 ~ The Revealing
The entire room fell silent as Hermione's first set of robes fell to the floor,
revealing her still hooded and dressed in her basilisk robes. The shining fabric
shimmered in the torchlight, rare and beautiful.
Then, she lowered the hood.
Antoine Vargas stared at the young woman staring back at the crowd, every bit
disdainful in her demeanor as his own choice of apprentice, even slightly
condemning as her brown eyes swept over them.
An angry murmuring began as the Potions masters took in the fact that Severus
Snape had once again flouted their conditions and brought a witch into their
midst.
"Blasphemy!" Antoine screamed, and the cry was taken up by the rest of the
masters, their apprentices staring at the young woman on the stage in amazement.
More angry words filled the air.
"Snape, you've gone too far!"
"Cast him out!"
"He has brought a witch among us! Desecration!"
"BE SILENT!" Snape's voice boomed, aided by a Sonorous charm.
The cries stopped but the muttering continued as Snape reached into his satchel
and removed a book, holding it high above his head.
"This is the Book of Practices! You all know it! I've gone through it from cover
to cover and there is no law against a male master taking on a female
apprentice. It is after this book was written that you took it upon yourselves
to separate the sexes, refusing to teach and associate with the mistresses of
our art out of petty jealousy and a false sense of superiority."
"How dare you chastise our associations!" a voice screamed at him.
"How dare you pervert our traditions in order to indulge your unhealthy
practices of preying on young men who wish to pursue the art? This so-called
'Meeting of the Masters' is little more than a showcase for opportunists . . .
and for beefcake!"
Gasps arose and Hermione almost burst out laughing at the Potions master's
choice of words. But she had to agree there was more meat swinging here than in
a butcher shop window.
"You cannot reject my choice of apprentice because of her sex, or you will be
going against the Book of Practices and our entire association will be little
more than a sham," Snape finished.
The room fell silent for a moment, then Vargas yelled, "Her adornment! You have
adorned her in basilisk robes! That is against tradition. An apprentice cannot
come before us in anything not his own! This finery shows that you have ignored
at least that part of the Book of Practices! No other master has dressed his
apprentice in such a manner! Your apprentice is rejected based on her attire!
You may train her, but she will not be accepted! Ever!"
Snape's lip curled.
"Do you really think I would be as foolish as all that, Vargas? Those robes
belong to my apprentice. She wears the flesh of the creature she killed," he
said proudly. "That she killed ALONE, I might add."
Hermione continued to glare down at the masters silently, daring them to
challenge her qualifications. Her demeanor did nothing to make the Potions
masters feel any kinder toward her.
"Pah! You want us to believe this mere slip of a witch killed a basilisk,
alone?" Vargas hissed, then laughter rose from the crowd. "Tell us, did she run
it through with a sword after a long and arduous battle? If so, I don't believe
it. She is hardly big enough to pick up a sword, much less swing it."
"Not only did she kill a basilisk, she saved my life after I was bitten by the
creature," Snape continued.
Even more cries of negation arose.
"Impossible! Nothing can cure the venom of a basilisk's bite except for . . . "
"Phoenix tears!" Hermione cried from the podium, addressing the crowd directly,
which was a no-no. "Albus Dumbledore has a phoenix, in case you lot didn't know
that!"
"She speaks!" Vargas raged.
"Yes, I do," Hermione responded, "and I more than speak, you pompous bastard!"
Snape covered his face with his hand as Hermione's cramps took over.
"How, how DARE you!" Vargas yelled back at her over the angry voices of the
Potions master. Who the fuck did this witch think she was?
Snape quickly leafed through the Book of Practices as bedlam ensued, wizards
shaking their fists at Hermione and Hermione snarling back at them disdainfully.
Luckily, there was a whole chapter on presenting apprentices.
"Hold!" he cried over the voices, waving the book in the air.
Everyone quieted down.
"It doesn't forbid apprentices to speak in their own behalf if challenged. By
stating my choice of apprentice performed an impossible act, you have challenged
her, Vargas, and given her the right to speak her piece. So, be silent, all of
you, if you would follow our code!" Snape demanded, then looked at his
apprentice, his dark eyes glittering.
"You may defend yourself, apprentice," he told her softly.
Hermione looked around at the angry wizards. Normally, she wasn't a boaster, but
this lot and their paltry choices needed to be taken down a peg, the
chauvinists.
"I did kill the basilisk," Hermione said, drawing her wand. "Using a rooster,
and this . . . NOCTURNIS!"
Hermione whirled her wand above her head and plunged the room into darkness.
Snape immediately ran forward, pulling Hermione from her original position in
case anyone tried to hex her in the dark. He heard a thud behind him and
glowered.
The wizards were yelling now, milling about in the darkness as Hermione pointed
her wand at the back of the room.
"Solaris Orbis!" she cried.
A shining orb rose from the floor and loomed overhead, bathing the now silent
masters in light.
"I created a mock sunrise to make a rooster crow. It killed the basilisk!"
Hermione cried, letting the light die as the torches relit themselves. She ended
the spell and looked down at the Potions masters, who stared up at her in
silence. Vargas' expression was murderous and his apprentice's narrowed eyes
rested on his master to be. He looked displeased.
Snape looked behind the stage for the source of the metallic thud he heard and
saw on the floor, Vargas' apprentice's knife. It had been thrown at the area
Hermione had occupied while the room was in darkness. By the way Vargas'
apprentice was looking at his master, it was clear he wasn't the one who threw
it.
Snape looked at Vargas hatefully, but said nothing.
Hermione returned to the center of the stage, and Snape returned to the podium.
"In addition, my apprentice helped to render the beast . . . "
"Wait, how do we know that this witch actually killed a basilisk? Yes, the
method is ingenious, but robes can be purchased and tales manufactured. Without
proof, this could all be theatrics and lies," Vargas cried.
"Yes! Show us proof or depart!"
The cries rose. Hermione looked at them with narrowed eyes, then walked back to
the Potions master, leaned down and picked up the bundle. She staggered as she
carried it to the table on the right side of the wizard.
"Weak as a kitten!" Vargas said disparagingly, trying to amplify whatever faults
he could.
Hermione dropped the bundle on the table, then purposely stood in front of it,
blocking everyone's view as she unwrapped it. Then, she took a deep breath and
summoned her strength, lifting the bundle's contents over her head and spinning
to face the crowd.
Everyone gasped as the shining, severed head of the basilisk stared down at
them, jaws agape, fangs apparent, the yellow eyes dull with death. They still
recoiled from its gaze, however.
"Here is my proof!" Hermione cried, straining to hold it up a few seconds
longer, before letting it drop heavily back on the table. "I am more qualified
than any of your choices and demand my rightful place among the apprentices!"
"Can any wizard here give grounds to deny her?" Snape demanded. "If so, speak
now or be forever silent concerning Hermione Granger!"
There was some muttering, but no one spoke against the wizard's choice. It was
clear to see she was more than qualified to be among them. She had their
apprentices beaten by miles.
"It is settled then. Hermione Granger is the apprentice of Master Severus Snape
from this moment on," Snape intoned, walking around the podium and beginning to
wrap up the basilisk head again, as Hermione picked up her discarded robes and
slung them over her arm. She was going to mingle in her basilisk robes.
The end of the showcase was announced and food and libations placed on the
tables. Snape watched Hermione carefully as she moved among the crowd, eliciting
more interest from the apprentices than the masters, who glowered at her
hatefully.
Conan walked around the stage and angrily retrieved his knife. He had felt
Vargas grab it from under his robes when the room went dark, and heard the
clunk. It angered him that his master would try and kill a witch, particularly a
witch as accomplished as Hermione.
He wasted no time approaching the witch.
"You caused quite a stir," the handsome wizard said to her.
Hermione frowned up at him, completely unaffected by his good looks. Seeing
nothing but pretty boys onstage had pretty much made them all run together.
"The masters caused the stir," she said, holding her belly with crossed arms.
"Now, go away!"
Conan lifted both heavy brows at her.
"This is supposed to be a mingling," he informed her.
"I mingled. Now, I'm telling you . . . go away!" she hissed.
Gods, her thighs ached.
Snape suddenly appeared, offering her a bottle of pain potion. Hermione almost
took it . . . but didn't.
"What did we do the last night we were together before I went on Christmas
vacation?" she asked him.
"Brewed," was the short, hoarse reply.
Hermione stared up at him.
"You're lucky we're not allowed to hex other people here, or I'd blow your ass
across the room. Get away from me, whoever you are," she growled.
The imposter Snape melted back into the crowd, the other masters surreptiously
observing the interaction. Well, she wouldn't be getting poisoned that way.
Another master walked up to her, offering his hand in a friendly manner.
"You are quite accomplished, Apprentice Granger. Welcome to the field," he said.
"Thank you, but I'll pass on the handshake, if you don't mind," Hermione
replied.
The master scowled blackly.
"Unfriendly wench, aren't you?" he snapped.
"When it comes to murderous bastards, I guess I am," she snapped back at him.
"Why you little . . ."
"Is there a problem, Master Hollis?"
Snape's silken voice rose from behind the master. It was quiet and controlled,
but anger was apparent in Snape's dark eyes.
"Nothing a few etiquette lessons couldn't fix," he muttered, walking away
quickly.
"Oh, just one blast," Hermione said, looking at the Potions master's receding
back longingly.
"I know how you feel," Snape said with a little chuckle, "but we will be leaving
soon and I'll be able to give you something for your condition."
Hermione couldn't wait to get out of there. After a few more failed attempts on
her life, they left the mansion.
Snape was quite pleased with Hermione. They'd be talking about her for centuries
to come. A chip off the old cauldron.
"Let me get you back to Hogwarts," he said, wrapping one arm around the witch
protectively and Disapparating with her.
They reappeared in front of the Hogwarts gates. Hermione felt totally exhausted,
and her knees buckled. Snape still had her and was alarmed. The combination of
her period coming on, not eating and all the excitement had taken their toll on
the witch.
Snape quickly let her into Hogwarts, then looked around carefully and took the
satchel from her. He reduced it to pocket-size, and placed it in his pocket. He
then Disillusioned the basilisk head and placed it on the ground near the warded
gate. He then put a protective ward around it. He couldn't reduce the head
without affecting its potency. He'd come back for it.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him.
Suddenly, Snape swept her up into his arms and started walking, carrying her to
the castle.
"Getting you situated witch. You've had a long day," he said to her gently.
Hermione didn't argue, but rested her head against his chest and closed her
eyes.
The last sound she heard before sleep fell was the sound of his beating heart.
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A/N: You go, Hermione Granger! She showed them, didn't she? Pompous bastards.
Ah, morning writing. I got up at 4:35 am to write this. It's now . . . 5:45 and
the sandman's back. :::yawnz::: Maybe I can sleep now. Thanks for reading. ***
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