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When the Magic's Gone	By : Avrild Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4155 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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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Chapter 5 — Fasten your seatbelts

Yes, it all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize — that’s probably mine.

Okay, explicit sex ahead. If you don’t belong here — leave now.

Snape was bored. He didn’t mean to be. He didn’t want to be. After all, Rachel was dressed in a simple black sweater and skirt, which beautifully set off her titian hair and athletic figure. And though the wine had been barely adequate (his mistake as he knew nothing about choosing muggle wines), the food she had prepared was excellent. The trouble was Snape had little to say -- his acidic tongue was stifled by the need to be nice. And his years at Hogswarts had prepared him to be anything but nice. Rachel did her best to cover the silences, mostly with stories and information too mugglish to make any sense to Snape. So after not getting the punch line to yet another anecdote, and knowing that she liked sports, he tried to explain Quidditch. He gave up after five minutes, losing heart at her look of total bewilderment. Dessert was a selection of fresh fruit and cheeses, which neither felt inclined to eat. She leaned over the table and took his hand. He kissed it. Without a word, they headed through her living room into her bedroom.

He noticed an alarm clock beside her bed. It bothered him, even though most muggles seemed to use one. In the wizarding world, it was only the scarlet witches of Knockturn Court who had such things. Snape tried to ignore his discomfort at the visual reminder of his usual relationship with women. She lay down and drew him onto the bed. She pulled off her top, revealing a black lace bra. Slowly and carefully, he kissed her neck. She giggled.

‘Oh Russ. That’s so good. Don’t stop.’ She reached up and unclasped her bra, throwing it to the floor. ‘I can’t get enough of you.’ She raked her hands through his hair and over his broad shoulders. He nuzzled her tawny areolas. ‘Oh, that’s so intense. Do take off your clothes.’

Snape obeyed and tried not to stare as she removed her skirt revealing a black thong. He’d never seen a witch wearing one of those. He continued nuzzling and massaging her breasts while making his way down to her triangle. He pulled off the tiny piece of soaked lingerie. She was a natural redhead. With great pleasure, he began to tongue her clit.

‘Oh, no. No! That’s all right; you don’t need to go there! I’m ready for you now. Did you bring anything?’

‘What? Oh, no damn, no. I, I wasn’t thinking.’

‘That’s alright, love.’ She reached into the drawer of her nightstand. ‘Here’s a raincoat for you.’

Snape took the pink thingy wrapped in clear plastic. It had bumps! He tried his best to remember 20 years back to his muggle studies class. It’s a whatamacallit, and it oh, goes on, how the hell? Right it unrolls over and blast!

‘Oh ‘ere, let me put it on for you before you get all soft.’ He returned to kissing and licking her lovely body.

‘Oh, Russ, I’m not a ice lolly. Let’s get on with it. I need you -- now,’ she purred.

‘Of course, anything you desire.’ He whispered. He kissed back up to her throat. He would have liked to do so much more, but he complied with her wishes. He stationed himself over her and easily entered her. She was indeed quite ready. After only a few thrusts, she screamed like a kneazle in heat and climaxed. She then passed out.

‘Rachel? Rachel?’ Snape felt a bit odd. Was she supposed to be asleep? Was she ill? He checked her pulse and eyes. She seemed quite healthy. He quietly headed into her pink and lavender bathroom and relieved himself. He looked at the clock. Sixteen minutes, from start to finish. Was this what the muggles called a ‘quicky’ or would sex be like this with her all the time? He sat on the corner of the bed, feeling quite thoroughly naked, bored and disappointed. He walked around the flat, finding no books except for cookbooks and lots of sports magazines. He sat down on the bed again, pulled part of the duvet over him and gave himself up to introspection. He had felt nothing for Rachel just now. Was it only the novelty of having a beautiful woman interested in him that he had found exciting? And if this was so, well, wasn’t he making a huge mistake? He’d apologize to her later, but in the meantime’. He found a biro and a pad of paper.

‘Dear Rachel,

Had a lovely time. Don’t quite want to learn tennis, yet. However, I shall be in touch to explain.

Best regards,
Russ’

Well, he wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing! Understated, and hopefully not too hard a let down. The nice part was that she wasn’t a witch so he needn’t worry about being hexed when he wasn’t looking. Humming under his breath (what was that song -- something Hermione had been playing) he dressed and located his borrowed overnight bag. He let himself out of the flat and started to walk home.

It was a 45-minute walk back to the Grangers; he’d done it two previous evenings after seeing Rachel home and enjoying intense snog sessions. Although it wasn’t late and the weather was fine, few people were out.

Snape was thinking about ‘the Hermione situation’ when a man walked past him said something under his breath. Snape’s instincts went on high alert, but it was too late. He received a haymaker to the stomach and doubled over in pain. Without thinking, he tried to hex his assailant. But without a wand the hex was uncontrolled and went wild. It sparked all over, making a rather impressive light show and severely damaging Snape’s hand. The man looked like he was ready to have another go at him. With his right arm useless, Snape used his left to grab the man around his neck and kneed him in the groin. The man collapsed. Without looking back, Snape ran.

Hermione was on the couch, watching a video, when Snape arrived home. He bent over trying to catch his breath.

‘So, did you shag her?’ she asked, barely looking at him.

‘Miss Granger, a gentleman never tells.’ He felt a stitch in his side. ‘Where are your parents?’

‘Out with friends, they’ll be back late.’ Her eyes widened as she took in his dangling, charred hand. ‘What happened? Cripes, I’ll get some bandages.’

He stumbled past the living room to the book lined study that had served as his room for the last 10 days. He sat down heavily on the room’s day bed.

Hermione came in with a bowl of ice water, a flannel and a medical kit. He protectively held his blackened hand away from her. It was covered in large watery blisters and kept jerking spasmodically. ‘We have to clean it off and get some ointment on it.’ She helped him remove his jacket and rolled up his sleeve. The muscles of his forearm were also twitching. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

‘I was attacked. I hexed the bastard, but there was a backflow.’

’You need to get to St. Mungo’s.’ She forced his hand down into the ice water. Snape uttered a curse as his hand submerged.

‘It was closed last week. Everyone was transferred to muggle hospitals.’

‘You’re the potions master. Tell me what I can do to make things better. Do you need something for the pain?’ She rummaged in the kit. ‘Here’s some codeine.’

He snorted. ‘There is nothing available outside of Diagon Alley and, and you can’t go there. It’s... too dangerous. I’ll... be... fine.’ His head started to drop forward on his chest. Hermione noticed how pale he was and the fine beads of perspiration on his upper lip.

‘You don’t look fine to me. Russ? Professor? No. Don’t -- don’t fall asleep, I have to finish with the bandages.’

Snape opened his eyes and tried to focus them on Hermione.

‘Miss Granger? Don’t worry. I’ll have Blaise Zambini take you to the Yule Ball. He’s a very nice young man, of a very good family.’ His eyes closed again and he whispered. ‘He’ll appreciate you and take care of you. No need to be embarrassed. I’ll make sure he asks you.’

‘Professor? Blaise is dead.’ She removed his hand from the water, quickly applied the antiseptic ointment and wrapped his hand in gauze. ‘He was kneeling right next to me. They beheaded him and I, I was next.’ Snape’s eyes snapped open and they seemed wild and feverish. Hermione struggled to find the right words to get him back. ‘Don’t you remember? You gave up your cover as a Death Eater and fought our way out. Please, Professor--’ Snape ripped his bandaged hand away from her.

‘He’s a pure blood, of course, but things have changed, haven’t they? He’ll be allowed to court you. Not like when I was young....’ He sounded bitter.

Suddenly, he hit his hand against the wall behind him. He continued to hit it harder and harder. His eyes were closed and tears streaming down his face. There wasn’t a sound except for his labored breathing. Hermione tried to grab his arm but he was strong. She couldn’t tell if it was the pain of his hand or the denial about his favorite student’s death that was causing the self-inflicted violence.

She tried to control her voice, but it rose with hysteria. ‘Please. Professor, stop hurting yourself! You can take me to the Yule Ball!’ He stopped and looked at her in surprise. Clear liquid and blood began to seep out through the bandages. ‘I w-wouldn’t w-want to get blood on your lovely gown.’ He said sadly. His eyes closed again and he leaned back against the wall.

‘Don’t worry about the N.E.W.T.s, s-silly girl, you will be fine. I’m tired, I need to mark some papers, but I’m tired. Please leave me now.’ His whole body was trembling and his hair was plastered to his forehead.

‘I can’t leave you, Professor. I’m scared. Maybe you should get some rest.’

He sat, staring straight ahead. He didn’t seem to hear her.

‘Well, you can’t sleep in your best clothes. You’ll need them.’ She sorted through the pile of clothing on one of the shelves in the corner of the room. ‘Here get into your pajamas.’ She handed them to him. He stared at them dully.

Hermione sighed and helped him remove his shirt. His face was waxy and he seemed unaware of his surroundings. She dressed him in a blue pajama top, leaving his tee shirt on underneath. She slipped off his socks and shoes.

‘Stand up, Professor.’ She pulled him up. She kneeled down to undo his trousers and pulled them about his feet.

‘Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.’ He snickered to himself.

‘Now, step out of them, that’s good, now step into your jammies.’ She pulled up his pajama bottoms. He stood there, still lost. With some effort she got him into bed. He went into a fetal position and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, Madame Pomfrey, the Pepper Up will be ready tomorrow. You can’t hurry these things.’ Violent tremors ran through his body. Hermione ran from the room and returned with an extra blanket, which she put over him.

She kissed him gently on his damp forehead. ‘Sleep. Things will be better tomorrow. I love you.’ He closed his eyes and in a very short time his breathing was steady and regular. Hermione got up and sat in the chair next to the bed. She used a pillow to stifle her sobs. Eventually she crossed back to the bed and, lying on top of the covers, went to sleep next to him.

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Please Read and Review

Many thanks to my reviewers: Salvia, Giova, Mandi, Campy Capybara (please forgive me about Rachel), Red, Emiko, Ezmerelda, Tegan, and Redone (thanks for the heads up on Sushi. I love having a sister story to hers. And on which story is more depressing, I’m not finished yet!)
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When the Magic's Gone