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Kiss The Serpent	By : indigonightowl Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32590 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. That pleasure is JKR’s. I only own the plot…and since I lost the plot a while back, I’m not sure I own even that.

A/N: A huge thank you to Chartreuse and Wartcap for their original beta so many years ago, and to MoodySavage, my current beta who is doing amazing work with her red pen. At last - someone who understands the comma! You can all thank her for her wonderful encouragement. I might complete this story yet :)

Wednesday

It was the early hours of the morning before Severus returned. The examination of the circle members had been long and grueling.

Hermione had fallen into an exhausted slumber. Without hesitating, Albus had asked Hobey to put her to bed in Severus’s rooms, and then settled himself back in front of the fire. When Severus returned with a loud crack, into the living room, Albus did not flinch.

“All is well?” he asked calmly.

Severus gave a curt nod, scanning the room briefly for another occupant.

“I took the liberty of slipping some calming draught into her tea,” he said, noting the direction of his glance. “She is presently asleep in your bed. She was very worried about you.” His blue eyes were dancing at the sudden stiffness in the younger man’s stance.

“Albus, I never meant…” he offered in a tired voice.

“Severus, these things sometimes take us by surprise. Neither of you asked to be placed in this predicament. Who am I to stand in the way of destiny?” he asked.

Severus snorted in dismissal. Destiny, indeed. “Then you don’t mind?”

‘How can I object?” he asked bluntly. “I am the one who asked her to accept this situation in the first place. That both of you found it acceptable is hardly a punishable offence.”

*********

Casting his mask and robes aside, Severus sat heavily in the chair by the fire. A clean cup appeared on the tea tray. He poured himself some tea in silence.

“Well, I think we did it,” he said finally. “Although having my mind scoured by the Dark Lord is not an event I wish to repeat, I think he believed me. Lucius is furious.”

Albus refilled his own cup as he listened.

“The Dark Lord is convinced that the prophecy is real, however, and now the entire inner circle is under suspicion. He will search for the traitor with a vengeance and suspect everyone. Anything I do will have to be with the utmost caution.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” Albus asked, accepting cream and sugar from the tea service.

Severus shook his head and took a slow sip. “I can’t think of anyone who fits the ‘untouched by womanly love’ requirement. I only wish I knew who it could be. It would be pleasant to have an ally in the Circle…for a change.”

Albus drained his cup and got to his feet. “Let’s discuss it in the morning. I’ll see you both in my office at 8 o’clock.”

Severus nodded, moved to the mantelpiece and held out the box of floo power for the Headmaster to use.

With a flash of green fire, Albus was gone, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts.

He was cleared of suspicion. In fact, he was now the only member of the circle NOT under suspicion. Thanks to Hermione.

His thoughts drifted to the woman asleep in his bed. She had saved his life, but now what? They were somehow ‘together’, but it had come about under duress. He knew that. The kindest thing would be to release her. Let her return to her peaceful life and forget that she had ever, even briefly, been a part of his. Let her find a man closer to her own age, a more intact man than he. His stomach started to ache at the thought of another man lying with her. He stood abruptly.

I’ll think about that later.

Exhausted, he began shedding his robes. He stopped in the doorway of his bedroom at the sight of Hermione sprawled in the centre of his bed. Their bed, as he’d like it to be. Her soft curls were draped over his pillow and she was snoring softly.

Stripping off the last of his clothes and leaving them at the foot, Severus climbed in beside her. She muttered something in her sleep, turned over and threw a heavy arm across his chest. He gathered her into his arms, and buried his face in her hair, his chest tight with suppressed emotion. In the morning he would tell her she was free. Tonight, she was still his.

*********

The next morning, Hermione awoke to warm breath tickling the back of her neck. She turned her head and found Severus asleep, with his nose buried in her hair and his body curving warmly against hers. His arm clutched her possessively to him.

“You’re back!”

“Ten points for observation. I tried for the Bahamas this time, but Rosmerta was busy. Stocktaking, I believe.” His voice was husky with sleep. He didn’t open his eyes.

With a wriggle, she turned and searched his face. “You’re alright.”

“Another ten points.” He appeared to be trying to go back to sleep.

Hermione ignored him. “They believed it then? You are removed from suspicion?”

“With these remarkable observations you might single-handedly win the House Cup for Gryffindor. Another ten points.”

Hermione kissed his forehead with a grin and snuggled deeper into the bed. “I rather like the tousled look on you,” she said, eyeing him critically.

“Oh really?” He still didn’t open his eyes.

“Yes.” With a grin she messed his hair a little more, ruffling it with her fingers, a look of intense concentration on her face. “There. Perfect.”

Black eyes opened at last. Hermione felt time stand still as their gazes locked, mere inches apart. The warmth swelled up in her chest at the sight of his sleepy face.

“I love…” Oh Gods, “…it. Your hair.” She finished lamely. Nice save, Granger.

Severus’ gaze was inscrutable. He’d tell her it was over later, much later.

**********

A nondescript barn owl circled high over the breakfast tables, searching for the recipient of its letter.

Spotting a shock of white-blonde hair, the owl spiraled downwards, narrowly avoiding a collision with a snooty white owl carrying a parcel, and landing heavily in a bowl of porridge.

The bird dragged itself out of the soggy quagmire, and held out his leg so that the letter could be removed. Then it turned itself to the task of preening bits of oatmeal out of his feathers.

The cold-faced blonde boy who had roughly snatched the letter from its leg ignored the bird as his eyes scoured the page. He didn’t even offer the bit of leftover toast from his plate. The brown owl swallowed every scrap of porridge that it cleaned from his plumage and then, with a reproachful hoot, launched himself back into the air.

He circled the room once again, his sharp eyes noting the various breakfast dishes still on the table. Next time, he’d aim for a plate of bacon.

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

Someone was watching him. All morning, he’d had the distinct feeling he was being shadowed.

He glanced over his shoulder. North tower was empty.

“Hey, how long until lunch, I’m starving,” Ron grumbled, more to himself than to Harry.

“One more period, “Harry answered absently, still glancing backwards. “Hey Ron, have you seen anything…um, strange hanging about today?”

“What kind of strange? Mad-Eye ‘I’m not paranoid; they really are out to get me’ Moody kind of strange? Or, ‘there’s a flobberworm in my pumpkin juice’ kind of strange?” Ron was absently rubbing his empty stomach.

“Mad-Eye…” Harry qualified.

“What? Are you feeling jumpy and paranoid, along with a strong desire to hex dustbins?” Ron was frowning at him.

“No, but I keep feeling like there is someone following me.”

Ron glanced doubtfully down the empty corridor, peering one way and then the other before shrugging and walking on. “You probably just need some food. When is lunch, by the way?”

Harry sighed and trailed after him.

A silent figure disengaged from the shadows behind the statue of Lachlan the Lanky as Harry passed. Ron continued blithely down the stairs to the sixth floor, focused on lunch and unaware of the hand pressed tightly over his friend’s mouth.

“Mmppftthhh!”

“What was that, Potter? You really must learn to be more articulate,” an amused voice whispered in his ear.

Malfoy. Harry twisted uselessly under the wiry grip that held him. The blonde boy was squinting down the stairwell to be sure that the Ron had gone. Then as abruptly as it had attacked, the arm released him.

“What the hell do you want, Malfoy?” Harry demanded, straightening his glasses.

“I think that is the question I should be asking you…Harry.”

Malfoy had never used his first name – not once in seven years. Harry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I thought it was time we buried the hatchet. It appears that we have something…special in common, and if you are struggling with it the same way I did, maybe we can help each other.” Malfoy spread his hands open in a sign of truce.

Harry had never heard Malfoy speak with anything other than scorn in his voice. The transformation into a sensitive, understanding human being was unbelievable.

“Get lost, Malfoy. Go play your games somewhere else,” he snapped.

Malfoy took a step closer. Harry’s chest tightened but he stood his ground.

“This is no game.” Malfoy’s voice was low and husky.

An involuntary shiver ran along Harry’s spine. Draco Malfoy was beautiful. Being near to him without that handsome face marred by a sneer of disdain, and without venom pouring from his lips, he was compelling. He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

“I just want a second chance, Harry,” Draco whispered, sidling closer still. Harry was caught unawares as his hand was captured.

Draco’s hand was slight. Long fingers held onto his and almost tenderly caressed his palm. The sensations were confusing. How could he be aroused by someone he despised, and there was no doubt that he hated the young Slytherin.

Almost in a daze, Harry allowed himself to be pulled forward. One step was all it took and they stood chest to chest, his heart pounding and his arousal burning within him.

It wasn’t right, but Harry couldn’t pull away. He was stunned by the unexpectedness as much as the burning desire for discovery.

Draco leaned forward and captured his mouth in a scorching kiss. Harry’s first real kiss. It burned him all the way to his toes. If he had held any doubts before, now they were seared away. The sensations of Draco’s searching mouth and firm chest overwhelmed him. Draco’s arms were strong and sure. Harry had never experienced feelings like this before. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel.

A screech echoed along the corridor. “Draco Malfoy!”

Draco’s head whipped up and Harry recoiled as though he’d been slapped. Pansy Parkinson marched towards them, a scowl on her face.

“Draco, there is very little point in me continuing to pose as your girlfriend if you are going to be kissing boys out in public.” She stopped just behind Harry and stomped her foot. “Who are you kissing anyw…Oh. My. God.”

Harry blushed. He couldn’t help it. Turning on his heel, he brushed past Pansy without a word and broke into a run as he hit the stairs.

“Draco, are you mad? That was Harr…”

The rest of her words were lost in muffled echoes as he raced down the steps. Pose as his girlfriend? Was it possible that Malfoy was telling the truth?

The whole encounter had only taken about five minutes, but it had profoundly changed him. He raced down the stairs, at the entrance of the Great Hall, he found Ron peering curiously around.

“Oh, there you are. I wondered where you got to,” Ron said, spotting Harry as he hit the bottom of the stairs.

Slightly out of breath, Harry fell in beside the other boy. “Oh yeah, I just had to…use the bathroom,” he lied blandly.

Ron nodded and nudged him towards the Great Hall. “C’mon, let’s get some lunch, I’m starving.”

When Ron had devoured his third full plate of food, he glanced surreptitiously around and nudged Harry in the ribs. “So, what are we going to do about him then?” he whispered.

Harry’s mouth went dry. Ron knew about Malfoy? How could he, he couldn’t have seen, could he?

He put down his fork, and opened his mouth to confess.

“I mean, we can’t just let him get away with it, can we?” Ron asked, taking a gulp of pumpkin juice.

“Um, well no, I guess not,” Harry mumbled, staring at the remains of his unfinished lunch.

“What do you mean ‘guess not’? We have to do something. We can’t let the greasy git do this to us,” he declared mutinously.

Greasy git? Ron never called Malfoy that…and then the Sickle dropped.

Snape.

Harry’s intestines removed themselves from around his ankles and resumed their normal position in his torso. Ron was talking about Hermione being married to Snape, not about Malfoy having kissed him.

He took a deep, relieved breath and picked up his fork again. “You are absolutely right, Ron. We can’t take this lying down,” he agreed, shoveling food into his mouth once more.

“So what are we going to do?” Ron asked, digging a fork into a large piece of apple pie.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. She seemed happy enough, didn’t she?”

Ron nodded. “That’s the scary thing. Do you think she likes him?”

“She is quick enough to defend him,” he frowned. “And if she likes him, she’ll eat us for breakfast if we interfere.”

Ron’s red head bobbed up and down again. “You’re right, mate. I mean, I still don’t like Snape or anything, but Hermione can be scarier than him.”

Harry agreed emphatically. “In fact,” he pointed out, “can you imagine Snape after Hermione gives him his first lecture?”

Ron stared blankly for a minute and then grinned broadly. “I think I’d like to see that.”

“Me too,” Harry agreed. “In which case, we don’t need to do anything! Hermione will do it for us.”

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

The giant snake circled the headstone where Harry was tied from neck to ankle by choking ropes. A squirming bundle of robes sat to one side while a hooded Wormtail dragged a giant stone cauldron, scarring the soft earth, until it sat in front of the bound boy. The fire flared to life underneath…

A shadowy form moved around the headstone to peer in the cauldron, noting its watery colour and viscosity. The liquid had heated rapidly, its surface bubbling and sparking. Soon enough it was a sheen of diamond-like fire. Black eyes took in every detail.

The ugly humanoid form of the Dark Lord was revealed - a hairless, scaly, serpentine child. Wormtail gently placed his Master within the simmering cauldron, red eyes vanishing from view beneath the murky liquid.

The revulsion on Wormtail’s face filled Severus with grim satisfaction.

He took mental notes as the scene unfolded. Bone dust caused the liquid to spark and become a virulent blue. Human flesh was thrown in, and the cauldron flared an unholy red. Harry’s blood was the final ingredient, added in an explosion of blinding white. And the words, ‘Renew…Revive… Resurrect…’

Slowly, the sparks vanished, white steam billowing into thick clouds around him. He had to move closer to the cauldron to get a proper look. He watched in horrified fascination as the serpentine Lord arose, resurrected and whole.

He had seen enough. Withdrawing from the pensive he hunched over a piece of parchment and began to scribble notes, deep in concentration, nose inches from the page.

That was how Hermione found him.

Now she ran her hands over the distracted Potions Master’s shoulders and hugged him briefly. Curiosity had her peering over his shoulder to see what he was writing.

“Your handwriting is impossible to read,” she complained.

“And yet the content is, as always, excellent.” He didn’t look up. “Hush, let me finish. I have the fourth year class after lunch.”

Quickly kissing the top of his head, she released him and retrieved the Alchemical text they had been studying. She pulled out the notes she had made that morning on the corrupted process and threw herself into the hard armchair nearby. Narrowed eyes followed her, glancing over shapely legs revealed by her school skirt.

“Where were you?”

She glanced up, puzzled by the edge to the casual question. “Where do you think I was?”

“It is of no consequence to me,” he muttered, averting his gaze and burying his nose once again in his scribblings. “I was merely making conversation.”

Hermione’s eyes lifted heavenwards and she got to her feet. She pulled up behind him and twined her arms around his neck, using one hand to turn his face towards her. His eyes were shuttered.

She arched one eyebrow in imitation of him and declared, “Well, actually I was secretly meeting another man.”

He remained silent.

She kissed the side of his face and trailed her lips along his cheek to his ear. “I went to the Greenhouses and shagged half the sixth year boys,” she whispered throatily.

“I see.”

“Oh honestly, Severus. I was with the Headmaster,” she announced, half annoyed, half amused as she stood up. “He says I can sit my exams as soon as he can get a Ministry Official to visit Hogwarts. Monday, probably.”

He barely reacted. His feathered quill clattered onto the desk. “Shall we compare notes?” he asked.

She whisked out her wand and drew up a chair…literally. Severus had the most uncomfortable chairs at his desk. He routinely discouraged visitors. She conjured up a lovely padded one and sat down in comfort.

“What I have witnessed,” he gestured to the Pensieve, “I believe to be the last stages of the Alchemical Process. The Emerald Tablets describe what became known as the Ouroborous Emulsion – this is what was in the cauldron in the graveyard. It is the ancient magic of Thoth, an Atlantean Priest-King—“

“I thought Thoth was an Egyptian god,” she interrupted.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “That state of affairs came later. He was an immortal, hence the reason his teachings were sought after by those who hoped to cheat death.” Pausing, he leaned forward to the dusty volume still resting in her lap and opened to a particular page. “The alchemical process has seven stages, but they are poisonous. No living creature could immerse themselves and survive. However, with certain modifications…here, look—”

He pointed to the first stage diagram. “Calcination. Vitriol is blended with volcanic ash. The black acidic paste is heated in a crucible until it is reduced.

“Vitriol?” she flashed querying eyes at him.

“Weathering of sulfur-bearing gravel naturally creates a green, oily substance, from which vitriol is distilled. Its purpose is to eat away flesh and corrode metal,” he explained in his no-nonsense teaching voice.

She nodded and he turned the page. “Stage 2. Dissolution, where the ashes are dissolved into water to create the first two Arcana – black sand and Zayt al-Zaj. The resultant liquid is pale blue.”

“Zayt al-Zaj…” she mused, the name familiar, “Oil of Vitriol? But that’s highly acidic.”

“Indeed, not something for living creatures, but a dark soul might endure it.” He stroked his lower lip, deep in thought, before turning back to the diagram.

“Then the separation phase, the natron, white soda ash, is filtered out along with the remaining water leaving behind only the purified Arcana. Iron is used at this stage – but if one were to substitute metal iron with blood iron, the resultant would be organic in nature.”

“And Dark magic, if blood is used,” she observed quietly.

He nodded somberly. “Stage 4 brings Conjunction – the purified Arcana are recombined. Saltpeter plus blue Aqua Fortis causes an inert precipitate, much like a child being born…”

Hermione’s head whipped up. “A child?”

Their eyes met in realization. “Of course! That is the point the primordial body was created. This was the juvenile form of the Dark Lord seen in Potter’s memory. That precipitate combined with a spark of lightning would produce life.” He grimaced as he recalled the misshapen childlike body, then his brow cleared and he nodded thoughtfully. “Nagini.”

“What about her?” Hermione was struggling to follow his razor-sharp thought processes. Alchemy was certainly not a doddle.

“The Dark Lord survived by imbibing potion constructed of Nagini’s venom mixed with unicorn blood,” he explained. “That was Stage 5.”

Hermione looked again to the diagrams in the ancient text.

“Stage 5. Fermentation,” she read aloud, “Liquor Hepatis, also called Balsam of the Soul, embodies the life force. The putrefaction of the hermaphroditic ‘child’ from the Conjunction results in its death and resurrection to a new level of being through the introduction of new life to strengthen it and ensure its survival.” She looked up. “But what does that mean?”

“Unicorn’s blood and snake venom are two components used to create one version of Liquor Hepatis. It also contains mercury and camel dung,” he wrinkled his nose.

“That would kill a person!” she grimaced.

“Not if brewed correctly,” he corrected patiently, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been a long morning. “Poorly done, the potion is an oily red-brown mixture with a rather unpleasant odour that is both disgusting and toxic. Not unlike something Longbottom might produce.” He ignored her outraged pout in defense of her friend. “The real potion is a waxy, golden coloured draught with a stream of colours emerging from its surface; hence the other name for it is the Peacock’s Tail Potion.”

“So, it gave him a new body, and Nagini helped keep him alive.” She was starting to see where this was going. “What next?”

“The final stages of Distillation and Coagulation remain. Boiling and condensation of the fermented solution increase its purity. Black Pulvis Solaris is added—”

“Black antimony with purified sulfur?” she interrupted again.

He nodded and continued without pause. “They clump together forming a kind of sublimated solid—”

Hermione pointed to the diagram. “Red Pulis Solaris.”

“—also known as Powder of the Sun. It is believed to perfect any substance,” he clarified.

Hermione inclined her head as something occurred to her. “So why were bone, flesh, and blood required in the final stage?”

Severus gently turned a page in the text. “Alchemy is Spiritus, Anima, and Corpus.”

“Spirit, Soul, and Body,” she translated absently, stroking the book’s ornate image.

He nodded. “Spirit was manifested through the Alchemical process – the inorganic became organic. The spirit was infused by the preserved soul of the Dark Lord, but now it needs a form, a body to house it.”

He closed the book, a puff of dust issuing with a soft thud. “Now we reach the need for the Ouroboros Emulsion. Flesh, blood and bone must be provided to create the new vessel. In most cases the result is horrifying - mutant to say the least.” He smiled as she shuddered delicately, and reached out a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek gently. “But the Dark Lord is clever; he used his father’s bone, the most compatible match to his original body. He used his servant’s flesh, willingly given to ensure the new form would not reject its new inhabitant.”

“And Harry’s blood?” She asked curiously, leaning into his hand.

“When the Dark Lord cast the Killing Curse on the infant Potter, some of his magic was transferred to the boy. By taking Harry’s blood, he regained that part of himself that he had lost.”

“You mean, had he taken just anyone’s blood he might have been reborn a Muggle?!”

“Possibly. Instead he has not only form, but his original magic as well. However, there was something else—” He reached for a second text, opened it at a marked page and began to read.

“Mysteries there are in the Cosmos

that unveiled fill the world with their light.

Let he who would be free from the bonds of darkness

first divine the material from the immaterial,

the fire from the earth;

for know ye that as earth descends to earth,

so also fire ascends unto fire and becomes one with fire.

He who knows the fire that is within himself

shall ascend unto the eternal fire

and dwell in it eternally.”

The words of the Emerald Tablet held a mystical fascination. Hermione’s eyes glittered with anticipation.

“Being tied to the headstone, Potter did not see all that took place in that cauldron. But through the Pensieve, I did.” He closed the book. “Nagini entered the cauldron as the white mists swelled and overflowed. I could see two serpents mouth to tail forming a figure eight. The Alchemist’s fire burns but does not consume. It transforms. They melded in a conflagration of magical energy. Two bodies, one Soul. Neither can die while the other lives, renewing the other for eternity. The Ouroboros.”

Hermione stared at him in despair.

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

A/N on Alchemy: Vitriol is equivalent to sulfuric acid. Blue Aqua Fortis is potassium nitrate with sulfuric acid. Camel dung was not put in as a joke! Liquor Hepatis is distilled from it. HONEST. Information about the Alchemical Process can be found at http://www.deeptrancenow.com/exc3_7operations.htm. Solve et Coagula!

A/N2: Severus read from the 4^th Emerald Tablet of Thoth http://www.crystalinks.com/emeraldprefacebw.html
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Kiss The Serpent