A Looping of the Scales ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 57 ~ The Venue is Chosen

On Monday, Snape received a missive from Bartleby asking him to come down to his office, which he did. Hermione was surprised and slightly irritated to find he wasn’t in his quarters when she arrived to study for lunch. She was so distracted, she was nearly disemboweled by a book demon, but she threw the book away from her. Book demons could never fully leave their books unless they managed to grab whoever was looking at them. The moment Hermione smelled the brimstone, she sent it flying, the demon landing on the hearth face first, and cursing at her as it held its bleeding nose.

The blood was black of course.

Bartleby had indeed drawn up a very fine contract for Snape’s patronage with Lucius, especially concerning possible lodgings for the young wizard. There was a list of possible places Lucius could acquire for a monthly fee and Snape took the list back to Hogwarts with him.

That evening he and Hermione went over the list, sitting side by side at the desk, Hermione’s books piled on one side.

”I want someplace private, where I won’t be bothered by a lot of people. Preferably close to water,” Snape told Hermione who studied the list.

”You want to be in England?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

”No, I like Scotland,” he replied. “England does nothing for me.”

Hermione looked at him. He probably just wanted a completely fresh start. Hogwarts was in Scotland after all, and Snape considered it his home despite everything that had happened to him.

“Hm, the Isle of Drear sounds interesting,” he said to Hermione, who shook her head.

”It’s Unplottable, you know, although I’m sure Lord Malfoy could get the coordinates. It’s just that the Quintapeds live there, and they aren’t very friendly creatures. You wouldn’t be able to walk about freely and would have to always be on the lookout for sneak attacks.”

”As if I haven’t experienced that before,” Snape said witheringly.

”Be that as it may, Quintapeds aren’t Marauders. They’re carnivores, are covered in reddish brown hair and have five legs and low-slung bodies. They love the taste of humans, Severus. You’d be on the menu constantly since you’d be the only human available.

”It’s one way to insure privacy,” Snape replied thoughtfully. “Trespassers could be eaten.”

Hermione scowled at him.

”Well, I certainly won’t be visiting you if you live on an isle full of vicious Quintapeds,” she informed him.

”Let’s look at something else,” he said quickly. ”Not Aberdeen. Too many people.”

”Not Peebles, either. Too many nosy Muggles there,” Hermione said, frowning. “That’s where Ron and Harry were reported when they flew over in that magic car during their second year. They’ve been on the lookout for magic ever since.”

Snape studied the list, sliding his pale finger down it, suddenly stopping.

”This is it,” he said with finality.

Hermione looked down at where his finger rested, then let out a gasp.

”Oh, Severus! You can’t be serious!” she exclaimed.

”Oh, but I am. The very reputation of the place will keep the curious away,” he said, smiling slightly.

”But—but Boleskin House? The home of the other Loch Ness monster?”

Snape smiled at her.

”Aleister Crowley was not a monster. He was just a sorcerer. A misguided Muggle who tread where he shouldn’t have,” the wizard said.

Hermione shivered.

”That house was cursed before Crowley ever entered it. Did you know it was built on a site where a church used to stand? It burned down with the entire congregation trapped inside. Some say they still wander around there—“

Snape shrugged.

”So? Ghosts are rather—oh, I see. You’re still traumatized. But a few ghosts won’t bother me, if they’re even there.”

Hermione bristled at Snape’s reference to the ghost incident that occurred the night before. Nick had apologized profusely when she returned to the tower and informed her it was Peeves who goaded the ghosts to do something.

”It was a matter of pride, Hermione,” Nick explained. “My compatriots felt insulted. We are ghosts after all and want to be respected. Your claim not to be frightened of use made a bit of ghostly blood boil. It wasn’t meant to hurt you, just—just teach you a bit of manners. I hope you weren’t terribly frightened.”

Hermione lied and said she was more shocked than frightened, but that just wasn’t true. She’d actually wet her knickers a little.

”I’m not traumatized! Ghosts aren’t the only things supposed to be at Boleskin house. Crowley let out a bunch of demons and never put them back,” she told Snape.

Snape shrugged again.

”I won’t bother them and they won’t bother me. Besides, I can demon-proof areas if I want to,” Snape said confidently.

”Well, I don’t like it. I won’t visit,” Hermione said.

Now, Snape scowled at her.

”Then, you just won’t visit, Hermione. I’m not going to let you manipulate this decision with threats of abandoning me. The first time you said that, with the Quintapeds, that was fine. They’re a real danger and unfamiliar. But you’ve dealt with ghosts and demons here at Hogwarts. They’re no different anyplace else. I’m going to stay there so Lord Malfoy isn’t breathing down my back and I’ll have solitude and privacy. I can just as easily come see you if you want me to see you. You don’t have to come there, Hermione. Not at all.”

Hermione blinked at him. The only word that really registered was “abandoning” him. And he was looking at her with clear dislike on his face. Snape might love Hermione, but that didn’t mean he loved everything she did or tried to do.

“I didn’t say I’d abandon you. Why do you always assume the worst, Severus?”

”Because the worst is what I’m used to, Hermione. Despite how I feel about you, I still have the underlying belief that most things are too good to be true and happiness is fleeting. I am a Slytherin, remember? I don’t wear gold and scarlet spectacles to pretty up the realities of the world.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped at him.

”That I’ll never be blinded by ‘the good times.’ I’ll enjoy them, but I’ll never fall to them. There are always bad times waiting around the bend concerning everything.”

He didn’t add “even you” but Hermione knew what was left unsaid. He felt she might cause him pain eventually. She found she didn’t like that possibility

”You’re a pessimist,” Hermione said softly.

”Yes. It’s better to be a pessimist than an optimist. There’s less pain that way when things go wrong. You expect it,” he said, folding up the parchment and standing up. “Tomorrow, I’ll let Lord Malfoy know I wish to occupy Boleskin house on the shores of Loch Ness for the duration of my patronage.”

Hermione looked up at him and didn’t say anything. Suddenly, Snape leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. She didn’t resist him. He pulled back, his dark eyes studying her.

”Because of you, Hermione, I can honestly say I am mostly an optimistic pessimist at this point in time. I prefer to live day to day, rather than focus too much on the future. And today—my life is almost perfect. More perfect than it has ever been. You have a lot to do with that.”

Snape straightened, walked over to his writing desk and put the parchment in the top drawer. He looked up at Hermione.

”I am going flying now. I’ve done my studying for the day, so you’ll have time to yourself,” he informed her.

”Will you hunt?” she asked him as he walked toward the door.

”I don’t know. That will probably depend on whether or not I see another stag. I think I’ve developed a taste for them. I will probably be back late, so you’ll have to see yourself to Gryffindor tower.”

Hermione looked slightly disappointed at this. Snape gave her a small smirk. He noticed her disappointment, but didn’t say anything other than good-bye and left. The wall closed behind him and Hermione frowned slightly, then opened her book rather viciously.

”What am I getting my knickers in a wad about? He’s just doing what he likes to do. He doesn’t have to hang around me all the time. He’s free to do what he wants, and I need to study,” she told herself firmly. “So he’s going flying. He’s a Gryffin. Gryffins fly.”

Hermione focused on her work with a vengeance. Although she got a lot accomplished by the time arrived for her to leave, she was aware that she was feeling out of sorts.

Aware that she missed Snape’s presence.

”Blast and bother,” she hissed, gathering up her notes and parchments and storming out of his quarters, angry at herself for being so divided at a time when she needed to be focused. The NEWTs were supposed to be her main focus, not Severus bloody Snape.

She returned to Gryffindor house in an absolutely foul mood. Well, not completely foul. When she exited the dungeons, she saw Peeves loosening the bolts on one of the chandeliers in the entrance hall and blasted him, setting his trousers on fire and sending him howling, black smoke trailing behind him. Unlike ghosts, Peeves had a true physical form when visible. One that could be hexed. And hurt.

”Stupid poltergeist,” Hermione hissed as she stomped up the stairwell.

That ought to teach him to keep his wide mouth shut.

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

Lucius Malfoy blinked at the missive he’d received from Snape’s solicitor.

”Is he serious? Boleskin house? My word. That place is brimming with Dark Magic,” the pureblood said to himself. Narcissa was seated near him, drinking an aperitif.

”Does that really surprise you, Lucius?” she asked him. “Severus has always gravitated to the Dark Arts. That house is quite off the beaten track. No one willingly goes there. Perhaps he wants solitude.”

”I doubt he finds it there. Demons and ghosts abound. It will be a wonder if he can even stay one night,” Lucius said, taking a sip of the Firewhiskey he was holding in his hand. “But if that’s what he wants, I will provide it.”

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

”Boleskin ‘ouse? Tha’s where Nessie’s at!” Hagrid exclaimed to Hermione, who had made time for a cup of tea with him before going to Snape’s quarters. They sat in his cramped, crowded caretaker’s hut. No matter how much Minerva tried to get him to move into the castle, Hagrid would refuse. Too stuffy in there.

”Nessie?” Hermione inquired.

”Yeah! Nessie. Tha’ Loch Ness Monster,” Hagrid said fondly. “Yeh know, she’s caused some problems fer tha Ministry of Magic a while back. Kept breakin’ tha International Code of Wizardin’ Secrecy when she kept gettin’ sighted. I offered ta put ‘er in the Hogwarts lake but they weren’t sure how she’d git along wit’ the squid. Pity, really. She’s not a monster. Jest a water horse is all.”

”She sounds fascinating.”

”She is. Shure would like ta see ‘er again. Maybe Snape’ll let me visit.”

”You can ask him.”

”I think I will, b’for graduation. How yeh doin’ wit’ yer NEWTs?”

”Good. I get a lot of study time in,” Hermione said.

”Don’ see ‘ow yeh do it, Hermione. Eleven NEWTS. Got ta be a record.”

”It is,” Hermione agreed finishing her tea.

Hagrid gave her a whiskery smile.

”If’n anyone kin pull it off, it’s our ‘Ermione,” he said confidently. “More tea?”

”Thank you, Hagrid,” she said with a smile, holding out her cup. Sometimes visiting Hagrid was like eating good chocolate

Hagrid was one of the few people who could always manage to lift Hermione’s spirits. He honestly believed in her abilities and never once told her something couldn’t be done. Not once. No matter how difficult the situation or plan was, the half-giant always said the same thing.

If anyone could pull it off, she could.

And sometimes, Hermione just needed to hear that.

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A/N: Ah, Boleskin House, the mansion where Aleister Crowley was said to do his rituals. Everything I’ve written about the house and Crowley is supposed to be factual, or as factual as magic can get. Lol. It sounds like an interesting place for Severus to hole up in. Thanks for reading.