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A Visit to a String of Pearls	By : Ms_Figg Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 4910 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Sweeney Todd and am making no $$$ from the posting of this fanfiction.

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A Visit to the String of Pearls

“It’s about time,” Professor Snape snarked at his apprentice of the past three years, one yawning Hermione Granger as she walked into his lab. “Egads. I could almost swear you wait until the last second before you put in an appearance just to aggravate me.”

Hermione finished yawning, then scowled at the Potions master.

”I am always punctual,” she declared.

”Which means you are never early,” Snape retorted, eyeing her robes critically. “Those will never do.”

Hermione looked down at herself, then up at Snape.

”What do you mean? I always wear these robes when we go harvesting. You’ve never complained before.”

”This is a completely different type of harvesting,” the wizard replied, producing his wand and pointing it at her.

Hermione’s brown eyes widened nearly to the size of saucers as they crossed and rested on the tip of Snape’s wand.

”Wait! Tell me what you want me to wear and I’ll do it. Last time you tried to adjust my garments, I ended up in just my bra and knickers!” she exclaimed, covering herself defensively.

Snape lowered his wand slightly, looking down his large nose at her for a long moment before he spoke. There was a little glint of remembrance in those dark eyes as they rested on the curly-haired witch.

“I was—distracted. I swished when I should have flicked. I assure you, Hermione, I am quite focused this time,” Snape assured her, his mouth quirking slightly.

“I don’t believe you were distracted. Nothing distracts you,” Hermione snorted. “You did it on purpose because you thought it was funny.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t find Hermione in her bra and knickers to be funny at all. Far from it. Still—

”If that’s what you choose to believe, so be it. Now, stand still.”

Hermione didn’t stand still. In fact, she started to bolt for the lab door. Unfortunately, Snape anticipated her reaction. He had been her master for three years now, and as she learned his skills, he learned – her. So he aimed slightly ahead of Hermione and she ran right into the spell.

Obviously, she still had a lot to learn about him.

"Oooh!” she cried out in outrage as she was bathed in light. Snape ended the spell, then turned his wand on himself.

Hermione immediately felt an uncomfortable weight which started at her waist as she reactively gathered her shawl with one hand and looked down. She was wearing a blue bell-shaped skirt beneath which was a number of layered petticoats to give it volume. Skirt and petticoats were attached to a bodice with cartridge pleats that caused them to spring out just above her hips. The shoulders of her matching blouse were narrow and sloping, and the sleeves decorated with a raised lace pattern from the elbows down to her wrists. Pleated panels of fabric formed a form fitting triangle from her shoulders to her waist.

She felt her head.

She was wearing a bonnet. Then she lifted the voluminous skirt and looked down at her feet. She wore blue brocade satin slippers that tied around the ankles with silk ribbon. She then lifted her bonnet and felt her head all over. From what she could tell by feel, her curly hair was parted in the middle and pulled tightly to her scalp. A high bun descended to the back of her head and isolated long curls dangled down towards the front.

What the hell?

Hermione whirled on the professor.

”Where are we going? To harvest potion ingredients or to a masquerade ba . . .” she began, then stopped as she looked at Snape.

Gone were his severe black robes and lank greasy black hair. In fact, his hair looked quite shiny and healthy as it curled just to his shoulders attractively, augmented by well-trimmed black sideburns.

Snape wore a white linen shirt and a black cravat, knotted in a barrel-shaped knot beneath his chin. Over the shirt, he wore a tight-fitting double –breasted waistcoat with a notched collar that finished in double points at the waist. Attached to this was a pardessus, or black cape attacked by a yoke across the shoulder line. He wore full-length black trousers with a fly front and highly polished black boots.

“Professor,” Hermione breathed as she stared at him, almost spell-bound. Was this the same man who made her life hell on his good days?

Snape flicked an imaginary spot of dust off the sleeve of his immaculate waistcoat.

“It doesn’t do much for my ‘greasy git’ image, does it, Hermione?” he purred at her.

"N-no."

Hermione blinked at him. He looked so—so dashing. Almost handsome. If he could look like this, why did he go about looking like . . . like he did? He’d have witches pounding down his dungeon door.

Snape lifted an eyebrow at Hermione.

”Don’t get used to it,” he said witheringly. “And stop gawking at me.”

He turned, walked over to his file cabinet and pulled open a drawer, removing something.

“I’m not gawking,” Hermione said, managing to overcome her sense of awe. “You just look so different.”

Snape turned around and walked back towards her.

”I may look different, but I’m not. That’s the problem with people. They only see the packaging and not the content within,” he snapped, holding up the item so she could see it. It was a Time Turner.

Hermione’s focus immediately shifted. They were going to time travel? How exciting!

“We’re going back in time!” she exclaimed.

”Your powers of deduction never cease to underwhelm me,” Snape said dryly. “So, you figured that out all by yourself, did you?”

Hermione bristled inwardly. Snape was a brilliant master, but still a huge prat. She didn’t trust herself so didn’t reply. He’d have her collecting stink beetles for the next two weeks if she mouthed off.

“Yes, we are going to time travel, in a way—“ Snape agreed. Then he touched the outer rim of the Time Turner and it glowed, a sparkling powder-like substance falling from where his finger touched, then evaporating in the air.

Hermione’s eyes widened.

”I’ve never seen a Time Turner do that,” she said in a near whisper.

”This is a very special Time Turner, one I’ve developed over the years. It has a special kind of magic. I called it an ‘Alternate Time Turner.’”

”Really?” Hermione responded, fascinated. “What does it do?”

“It not only takes one back in time, but to alternate time lines,” Snape said softly, the Turner reflected in his eyes as he dangled it before them.

”Alternate time lines? You mean alternate realities? How can that be? How did you make it?” Hermione asked him, her eyes also locked to the Turner.

Snape’s face twisted distastefully as he lowered the necklace.

”I procured the essence of fan fiction writers’ imaginations,” he said, his expression clearly implying that the task was akin to wading through a very stinky sewer.

Hermione shook her head.

”I could have happily lived out the rest of my life without thinking about them,” she stated.

Snape looked up at the ceiling as if he could see something beyond it.

”More than likely we’re in the clutches of one of them now,” he hissed, “but be that as it may, back to the situation at hand. As you know, Hermione, I hate to be manipulated and controlled—“

”That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” Hermione agreed.

Snape nodded.

”Well, I began collecting bits of their creative essence from every ridiculous, over-sexed, unlikely, humiliating, out-of-character situation I found myself in, with the intention of utilizing it against them,” he said coldly. “I've met with some success, but not as much as I’d like.”

”Success? How?”

Snape smirked.

”I created this Turner, used it to enter their storylines consciously, then acted in such a manner that they’d eventually have no idea what to do next, so would stop writing the story. Sometimes for a short while, or even permanently. They believe they’ve ‘lost their muse’ but in actuality I just purposely ruined their stories before they ruined me any further. Unfortunately, many fan fiction writers don’t care how illogical their plotlines are, or how big the plot holes are, they just . . . keep going. It’s infuriating. But I stopped a few, so that is progress . . .”

”I need one of those,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I’d like to know what they’re writing about me.”

Snape’s dark eyes fell on Hermione. Since she was in this story, she didn’t have a conscious knowledge of the other storylines going on about her. She didn’t know about their often illicit intimate relationships like he did. She had no idea that he was shagging her soundly, deeply and unforgettably literally all day and night in the alternate worlds of fan fiction.

Apparently, this current incarnation of their storyline didn’t evolve that far yet, although the usual setup was in place for the inevitable naughtiness in the dungeons. Hermione was his apprentice, they worked alone together, they slept in close proximity and most telling of all, there were no other characters around.

The perfect formula for a bit of bed bouncing.

Snape had half a mind to loan Hermione his Time Turner and let her pop into one of those beauties. That would frizz up that curly hair of hers, he was sure.

But, there was work to do. Maybe later.

“Enough about those prepubescent and post-menopausal harpies with keyboards and nothing better to do than keep me breathing only to further humiliate me,” Snape said dismissively, “I need to bring you up to snuff before we begin our mission. Now, I am Severus Snape, a trader in exotic spices. You are Hermione Granger, my ward.”

”Your ward?”

”Yes, my ward. Where we are going it is unseemly for a young, unmarried woman to be traveling in the company of a man to whom she is not related. Also, women do not speak out. They are supposed to be D-E-M-U-R-E. Demure. You know what that means, don’t you?”

”Of course I know what that means. It means women aren’t respected,” Hermione growled.

”Exactly. So you’ll keep quiet. Is that understood?”

Hermione grunted.

Snape scowled.

“Is that understood, Hermione?” he pressed.

”Fine!”

“All right. It is also important that we do not affect the alternate timeline in any major manner. We have to stay on the fringe for the most part. We will use very little magic and not socialize any more than necessary. We are going to acquire an item, but have to do it at the proper time so as not to preempt the storyline’s ending.”

”What do you mean?”

“Simply this. Alternate timelines have their own reality, their own rules and their own ultimate destiny. These things are preordained. If we interfere in any overt manner as the story is being told, we could ruin the alternate reality and it will end prematurely. And in that case, we will end as well, since we will be present and part of that reality.”

Hermione felt a small stab of fear inside.

”How will we know if we’re affecting the reality? Even the smallest act could have terrible results, like in Ray Bradbury’s ‘The Sound of Thunder.' A butterfly was stepped on and it changed the entire future!” she said, paling.

Snape shook his head.

“It will not happen. I am extremely familiar with this reality and know where the focus will be at all times. We will act only when I know the focus is not where we will be. Understand?”

"No."

“Then, I’m afraid, you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”

Snape draped the chain of the Time Turner over both his and Hermione’s heads.

”Where are we going? What are we going to retrieve?”

”You’ll see,” Snape replied cryptically. “It has to do with a string of pearls. Stay close.”

Hermione was used to Snape’s secrecy. He loved to spring things on her to “keep her on her toes,” and she knew better than to keep pressing him for answers. He could make his apprentice’s life very unpleasant. So she held her tongue. She’d find out what was what eventually. She checked her bodice. Yes, her wand was firmly ensconced between her breasts.

With that final warning, Snape spun the Time Turner, which exploded with a shower of golden light. It first encased them, turning them into golden silhouettes.

Then they disappeared.

They reappeared in a dank, dark, narrow and rather smelly alleyway.

”Good gods,” Hermione gasped, only taking in more of the stench. “Aren’t we supposed to still be in the vicinity of Hogwarts? A Time Turner only moves one through time, not space.”

”An ordinary Time Turner, perhaps, but not this one. In any case, alternate realities are not fixed in space but are mutable. Now, follow me.”

Hermione followed Snape toward the sliver of gray light that heralded the city of London ahead of them. She could hear chattering, people hawking wares and the clop-clop of horses as they drew closer to the cobblestone street.

Snape stopped then peered out cautiously.

”Take my arm,” he ordered.

Hermione did so and they exited the alley and began walking toward the nearest corner. People all around them were dressed in period clothes, some women wearing day dresses and linen shoes, men in frockcoats, breeches and powdered wigs. Carriages rolled along on wooden wheels and a number of small rather run-down looking shops lined the street.

Snape stopped on the corner and looked up at the street sign.

It read: Fleet Street.

Snape smirked slightly, then looked across the road at a shabby shop.

The sign above the door simply read: “Meat Pies.”

Hermione’s stomach growled.

”I didn’t eat this morning, professor. I’d love a meat pie,” she said, looking at the shop longingly. “I’d bet the meat pies there are completely traditional.”

Snape shook his head.

”Trust me. I have it on good authority that they’re the worst pies in London,” he replied.

”How do you know that?” Hermione asked him, then suddenly stopped to listen. ”Do you hear singing?” she asked the Potions master. “It sounds as if it’s coming from that shop.”

Snape frowned then pulled her away quickly, walking down the street and away from the music.

”Yes I do, and we are to avoid singing whenever it occurs and it will occur frequently. It will serve as the perfect alarm to warn us we should be elsewhere. Come, we have to make lodging arrangements. This expedition will take several days.”

“But I’m hungry,” Hermione whined, so intent on her empty belly that the weirdness of frequent outbursts of singing went completely over her bonneted head.

”You’ll eat. Just not there, never there. As popular as that shop is going to become, 186 Fleet Street will never be a premiere dining experience,” Snape told her.

”186 Fleet Street. Why does that sound so familiar?” Hermione mused out loud.

Snape cut his eyes at her. Hermione was smart. She’d figure it out.

They walked in silence for several blocks, nodding politely at fellow strollers as they passed. Hermione was getting rather winded with all those petticoats rustling around under her skirt.

“Do you know where we’re going?” she asked Snape.

”Yes,” Snape replied. “To acquire lodgings at Judge Turpin’s house."

” ***********************************************

A/N: I was hoping to finish this little crossover in one chapter but couldn’t. Sigh. I worked in my “muse frustration” in this story and took some self-depreciating digs. Lol. I’m in a major writing slump but I thought I’d give it a go today. Thanks for reading.
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A Visit to a String of Pearls