Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Stepping through the Veil	By : goldhorse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 2502 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. I make no money writing this story as evidenced by the absence of any in my wallet.

Chapter List
- 1-The Ritual
- 1
Guess who's back? Back Again? It's ME! I promise I'm working on my other fic, Three Conditions, but I'm having trouble getting into Snape's head. So... I thought I'd do it quite literally. In a manner of speaking. Well. You'll see. Anyway, I wanted to get this all posted by Halloween, but in between kids, getting sick, and SURPRISE the dog is pregant, I've... slipped. So, I'll post this now and I'll get the other half up ASAP.
Hermine took one more look into her handbag, contemplating her options. He really was the only person left who could help her. Well, who would help her. Not that he’d do it out of the goodness of his heart. Still, he was her last hope. She couldn’t face another day knowing that she could have done something and didn’t. No. It was now or never. She shook her head, threw the strap over her shoulder and spun on her heel.
Hogsmeade was beautiful this time of year. The shops were decorated in oranges, golds, and reds. Pumpkins were practically everywhere and the smells… cinnamon and apples. Mmmm. Fall. She loved fall. She loved the crisp air and the multicolored hues of the leaves. She loved the colors and the cider and pies and… the hope. Her last hope. She wasn’t sure she could stand another fall after this if he refused. He wouldn’t… couldn’t… but she wouldn’t force him. Maybe. Hopefully. She hadn’t examined her intentions that closely. She was too afraid.
Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she threw her hood up and cast a spell that would make eyes slide over her. Someone could find her if they were specifically looking, but no one would be. Not here anyway. She wondered when they would notice her prolonged absence. She’d tried to contact everyone, make sure she acted normal, didn’t give them a hint to her real plans. Not even Harry… or Malfoy for that matter. Harry might be oblivious sometimes but his lover was not. There was a reason Malfoy was placed in Slytherin and he certainly lived up to the name, but she’d studied him too. A few threats, a quick promise of no harm to Harry, and they were square. Mostly. She might have agreed to a pecan pie once a week for in depth updates. Who would have thought the blond had such an affinity for them?
The Shrieking Shack swayed in the breeze, desolate as ever. She shivered and marched through the gate. No one dared go in, even now that most people knew the truth of Lupin. No one wanted to disturb the murder scene. Well, botched murder. She’d made sure to interfere. Still, the puddle of blood remained, as did the empty bottle of phoenix tears and the bezoars she’d spilled when her hands shook too bad. She kicked them aside and marched on, dropping to her knees when she found the tunnel. At least no one would see her come this way. And she wouldn’t have to have Filch or Hagrid come open the gates. The less people who knew about her presence at the school, the better. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to avoid McGonagall, but the old Scot could hold her tongue as well as Dumbledore.
Surprisingly, not many students were about. Then again, it was nearing dusk. They were probably inside, contemplating the feast that was bound to happen soon. She remembered Halloween at Hogwarts, the tables loaded with all sorts of delicious foods and confectionary. She could faintly hear and smell the Death Day Celebration that would take place tonight. She stared at the large double doors to the entrance of the castle. This was madness. But she couldn’t let it go. This was her last chance and he was the key. She knew that now.
She hurried in, making sure to dart out of the entryway as fast as her legs could take her. Strange sounds wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. Hogwarts was practically one strange sound. But she didn’t have permission to be on the grounds. It wouldn’t be hard to gain but she couldn’t take the risk that someone would stop her. He wouldn’t. She knew that. He wouldn’t be bothered. But others might and she couldn’t afford that. Not when she was so close.
The dungeons were chilly year-round but there was a peculiar crispness in the air now. Like the chill of the undead, one that never quite went away. Maybe it was just her now. Having briefly touched the other side, the lingering numbness hadn’t ever really left. She’d never thought about killing another human as seriously as she had that day. She’d almost made contact and he’d snatched her back out. Payback, he’d said. So she would know how close he’d come, how much he wanted to stay. She’d taken that respite from him. It was only fair he repay the favor.
Sadly, she understood. The other side was a strange kind of peaceful, fuzzy rather than comforting, but there all the same. The other side had a way of preventing one from wallowing in their sorrows. It was like a wet blanket, dulling the senses and providing a much-needed weight when one felt like they might fly away at any moment. An anchor. Relief. She wanted to feel that again, if only temporarily. She hadn’t wanted to stay but she’d needed a few more moments to get answers. She’d have them now if she had to take him with her.
She made sure no one was about before she knocked on his chamber door. He was in there as he always was on Halloween. She’d noticed it during her school days. He would make a brief appearance at the meal, enough to grab a crust of bread and a meat pie and then disappear. It had taken her several scouting missions to find out where he went. It was a pet project of hers, figuring out what made him tick. Her last year, her 7^th, technically her 8^th, she’d found him. He would stay in his rooms until a quarter till midnight and then make his way to the spot. Always the same one. She’d checked over the years. He wouldn’t be alone this time.
It took several minutes before the door cracked open. She merely waited for him to invite her in. She wouldn’t take no for an answer and he’d know that. Instead of speaking, she pulled her hood back just enough for him to study her face. His legillimency skills hadn’t diminished and her occlumency was still rubbish. She made no move to stop the prodding in her mind. After an eternity, he huffed and motioned for her to come in.
She took her place on the footstool across the room from his favorite chair. She knew it was his favorite, having heard Harry and Malfoy complain about it incessantly. Her friends often had tea with the weathered teacher, hashing over the past, trying to find some semblance of peace while avoiding the largest elephant in the room. Lily. Still, they managed an uneasy truce. If they could, she could too. But not this night. This night was meant for something else.
“You’ve decided you can wait no longer,” Snape finally said, settling down in his chair.
She simply nodded and watched as he fixed tea for him and herself. One dollop of cream, no sugar. Maybe he’d plucked her preference from her head. She hardly cared as she took the offered cup. It was warm, but not enough to chase away the chill.
“Why now? Your last attempt was a year ago.”
Hermione swallowed and sat the cup back in the saucer, tracing the lip with an idle fingertip. Why now? It had been 5 years since the war. She could have done this much earlier but it had proved to be futile thus far. Except for her one brush. And the man currently staring at her like some complicated potion’s text was the reason she hadn’t. Then again, perhaps he had spared her that night. But back to the question.
“She’s pregnant again,” she whispered. “I’m not sure how. The doctors said she would never have another and she’s quite a lot older now. I contemplated staying out of it, maintaining my watch… but…”
“What changed?” Snape asked after she’d gone silent for many minutes.
Tears formed in her eyes. “I can feel it. The power. It’s a boy. He feels like… like Harry. After the war.”
Snape’s cup clanged against the saucer. Not many people knew about Harry’s spike in magic. It seemed that killing Voldemort had permanently altered his core. His magic increased tenfold that day. Sometimes, when his emotions got the better of him, the magic would swirl and make it hard for everyone in the same room to breathe. That was the other reason she didn’t make a fuss when he’d started dating the blond Slytherin. Vile as Malfoy had been in his youth, the war had tempered him. He had a way of picking at just the right spot in Harry’s armor to slide in and calm him down. He was currently working to help Harry learn control. Snape had been helping as well in his own way. Guilt or duty, it didn’t matter. It was working.
“You think he did something.”
She nodded. “There is no other explanation. And if he was involved…”
“She could be in grave danger.”
“Not just her, professor…”
Snape nodded and tapped his lip. “You’re planning on dabbling in some of the darkest magic known to wizarding kind, Ms. Granger. The consequences of a mistake…”
“I know the risks,” she said flatly. “I’ll gladly pay them.”
His nostrils flared. “There are consequences for succeeding as well. You’d ask me to pay them.”
She shook her head to stay his protest. “I’ll bear the brunt of them all. I only need your guidance and strength.”
He snorted. “Is that all?”
She blew out a breath to steady her nerves. “The strength is temporary. You know this.”
“And what would I garner from such an agreement?”
She closed her eyes, knowing this was coming. He’d never be that selfless. Still, she’d planned for this. She took out her wand and said a silent incantation that made her core glow a brilliant red. Then white flashed and the spell dissipated.
“You may harvest all the blood you need. I understand it is a rare ingredient.”
“It’s the maidenhead that is most valuable,” Snape said, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “But regular blood is also treasured. The older the witch, the more valuable the blood. But you must know that there is only one way to share strength on this night.”
She nodded. “I’m well aware. I’ll take as many blood replenishers as you deem fit before the ritual.”
“You’re leaving me to name my price.”
She nodded again sharply. “I’m not unaware of my actions, Professor.”
He nodded this time, albeit slowly, thoughtfully. “I assume you know every detail of the ritual?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice warbling slightly. “And due to the risks, I’d ask one more thing of you.”
His eyes narrowed. “What more could you possibly need?”
“You’ll see and hear everything I hear, correct?”
He nodded cautiously. “I’ll be privy to every thought that passes through your mind.”
“Then I ask that you take what knowledge I glean tonight and use it. Reverse the spell. Save them.”
“Why would you think I would do such a thing?”
She pulled a crystal ball out of her old beaded purse, similar to the one that had once held the prophesy that Snape had overheard so long ago. It had doomed Harry to his fate… and Lily to hers. The mere sight of it caused his breathing to speed up. She heard it in the quiet room, though it was hard to discern over her rapidly beating heart.
“You know what this is?”
He cut his eyes over to the opposite side of the room, unable to look at her. “Why does it matter?”
“It’s about me… and you.”
He looked back and quirked a brow. “And?”
“We’re to join together to prevent the end of the world.”
He snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”
She shrugged. “You can view it for yourself. It was one of only three crystal balls to survive Voldemort’s return.” She swallowed thickly. “Ron found it… before…”
Snape closed his eyes in understanding. She knew he wasn’t exactly fond of the youngest male Weasley, but Ron had helped her save Snape. He’d jumped head first into being an auror along with Harry and shot through the ranks. But he’d gotten on the wrong side of a very powerful black-market trader. He’d managed to find this crystal ball just days before his luck had run out. The trader managed to get his hands on the only spider in the world that had no antidote for the poison. Ron hadn’t stood a chance, killed by his worst fear. They’d never gotten past a few dates but she still considered him a very dear friend. His death hurt more than she cared to admit.
“I’ll view it in the other room,” Snape said hoarsely. “I’ll need to gather supplies.”
“Your word, Professor,” she said quietly. “I need to know it will be done.”
He sighed as he rose from his chair and raised his wand in the air. “On my honor as a wizard, I’ll follow through with whatever information I receive.”
She nodded and placed the orb in his robe covered hand. He turned in a flurry of black robes and disappeared to his bedroom. She knew the words by heart. That was how she knew he’d been the key. She needn’t hear them again. The brightest witch of the age and the dutiful spy would join together to stop the spread of evil from beyond the grave. It was quite possibly the vaguest prophesy in the universe, but she knew the subjects. When she found out about the pregnancy, felt the power tinged with the stink of evil and dark magic, she knew what had to happen. He really was the last hope.
The door to his bedroom opened and he marched back out into the room, holding his hand out for hers. She took it and ignored the slight tremor in it, knowing she’d literally do anything at this point to gain his cooperation. He pulled her up and directed her to his bedroom. It was sparse as she figured it would be. Black bedclothes, black curtains, black rug, and dark wooden furniture adorned the room. A Slytherin crest hung on the wall and that was it. He motioned for her to sit at the foot of the bed, to which she complied.
He held out a vial and his wand. She blew out a breath and held out her arm. He could take it all at this point and she might let him. But he merely filled the vial with a tap of his wand. Then he set it aside and conjured another. And another. She felt a little woozy but said nothing. After the fourth, he held out a crystal vial full of blood replenisher. She took it without protest and shivered as her blood regulated.
“The rest will have to wait,” he said after he’d packed the precious vials away. “It’s best to harvest it at the time of imminent destruction.”
She winced at his choice of vernacular but nodded just the same.
“Might I ask you a question?” he drawled as he started packing several items in a small black bag.
She laughed at the irony of it all and nodded. “What would you like to know?”
“Why save yourself for so long? I would have figured that Weasley…”
She snorted. “Ron and I were good in theory but in practice we were terrible together. We fought constantly and honestly, it’s hard to be romantically entangled with someone you want to strangle.”
Snape chuckled and packed a white silk cloth in his bag. “Some might call that passion.”
“Passion would occur if you can put aside your quarrels for more than two minutes.”
“Ah. I imagine it was a bit like Potter and I in the same room for more than an hour.”
“Quite possibly,” she said in amusement. “Though I must say you both have a much better handle on your anger than Ron ever would have gained in two lifetimes.”
Snape hummed and slid a long silver dagger in the bag. “And there was no one else?”
She shrugged. “I was too young when Victor was around. Then the war. There’s not exactly a ton of time when you are on the run from angry death eaters. And then there was the rebuilding, my trips to Australia, dodging the new laws…”
Snape huffed. “Stupid laws indeed. I thank you for turning those over.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” she said vehemently. “I did it for myself. No one is going to force me to marry anyone. Besides, they paired me with Malfoy of all people. Could you imagine?”
Snape laughed aloud at that. “Yes, what a terribly interesting honeymoon. Perhaps if you polyjuiced yourself into Potter, though that would negate the reproduction aspect of the law.”
She huffed. “Young girls forced to marry someone they haven’t even met and become a broodmare because prejudice and hatred diminished the wizarding population. Not as long as I still have breath.”
“I do have to say,” Snape drawled as he laid the final ingredient, gold chords, in his bag. “If there was anyone that could buck the Ministry, it would be you.”
She smiled faintly. “Thank you. Are we ready?”
He nodded. “We should go now. It will take some time to set up the area. I’ve not done this with a partner in years.”
She rose one brow. “You’ve had partners in the past?”
“Not for this purpose,” he said quietly as he motioned for her to stand. “But I have enjoyed the company of another at times.”
She led the way out of the rooms, putting her cloak up before she attempted to enter the hall. He stopped her with a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“We don’t need to be seen.”
Before she could ask, he enveloped her in his arms and spun on his heel. They landed in a little clearing in the forbidden forest, the same she remembered seeing while trailing him in the years past. He quickly stepped back leaving her with a strange bereft feeling and a chill she still couldn’t shake. Even the nausea from the sudden movement couldn’t quell it. She said the first thing that came to her mind as a distraction from the discomfort.
“I knew you still had you’re apparating privileges.”
Snape smirked and began unpacking his bag on a large flat boulder. Not wanting to poke the bear, so to speak, she took four stone bowls for the offering and began putting them on the points of the compass. He would need to come behind her and place the ingredients in the bowls. Then they would both spell them to activate the circle. When the bowls were in place, she went back to the boulder and gathered the drawing dust. She began creating the same symbol she’d studied in her pensieve and the hundreds of books she’d amassed over the past few years regarding this ritual. It would need to be precise so it would hold.
“Satisfactory,” Snape complemented when she was finished. “Now for the preparations.”
She rolled her eyes at his less than stellar complement and took out her wand. The silver basin full of water would need to be purified and blessed before they could wash in it. After a few complicated waves of her wand, the water shimmered with incandescent light. Now for the hard part.
“Scared, Miss Granger?”
She sniffed and began undressing. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“I trust you know this will not be some romantic escapade,” he drawled as he unbuttoned his frock from throat to waist.
“I have no delusions,” she said softly. While this wasn’t exactly how she pictured her first time, she didn’t have any regrets. Her decision to abstain in the past had led her to this moment. For that, she would never be sorry. Besides, she might not exactly live long enough for remorse.
“Have you made your goodbyes?”
She shrugged. “I left a note. It’s charmed to reveal itself in three days. I doubt anyone will find it before the week’s out.”
“Don’t you feel that’s a little long?”
“Not necessarily. I’ve eluded to taking another trip to Australia. All Hallows Eve conveniently fell on a weekend. No one will be the wiser until I don’t show up to work on Monday.”
“And what am I to say?”
“If they even suspect you,” she said in a hard tone, “you’ll be in Australia, finishing my request. I left no room for interpretation. What happens to me is precisely what I wanted and the only person responsible for my actions and their consequences is me.”
“I must say,” Snape drawled, starting on his shirt. “It is most unlike you to follow any sort of plan derived from a divination.”
She pursed her lips and pulled her shirt off, careful to keep her eyes away from him. “I can admit that there is an element of truth to divination. Even as wooly as Trelawney was, I came to understand that most of her predictions came true. I’ll not live my life for them. But in this case, my actions and those of others led me to my conclusion before I received that crystal ball. I see it as merely completing my task. If it happens to coincide with advice from some fortune teller, so be it.”
Snape hummed and removed his shirt, revealing a vest underneath. “I often wonder what would have happened had I kept my mouth shut.”
“That’s a foolish notion,” Hermione scoffed. “Many a man has wasted away wondering what could have been.”
“And you’re not one of them?”
She huffed and dropped her trousers, still keeping her eyes averted. “You know I do.”
She saw him nod out of the corner of her eyes. “There is a spell,” he began. “It allows you to go back and make different choices.”
“With what consequence?”
“It only grants the ability to see the vision through. Unlike a time-turner, you can’t change events that have already come to pass. It was designed to allow peace through understanding. But the results brought anything but.”
Hermione turned to Snape, unable to keep from gawking at his appearance. For a man 20 years her senior, he still had quite the physique. Though it was scarred from abuses of the past, it was strong, with hard planes of muscle and little softness of many men his age. His skin practically glowed in the moonlight. Then again, her milky skin was almost an even match. She’d not been out much during the days, preferring to slink around at night, keeping her recent activities a secret.
He smirked at her staring. “See something you like?”
She shook the thought out of her head and re-centered herself. “What did you see?”
The smirk slid off of his face as it darkened. “Not the comforting visions the spell promised.” Still in his pants, he walked behind her and began unfastening her bra. “While the Dark Lord did not target the Potters with the intent of murdering Harry, he did destroy them before Albus could save them. I still made the choice to ask him to save them, though I never revealed what I’d heard. The Dark Lord never picked an equal. And since he never knew there was a prophesy, Longbottom was chosen by Albus. Longbottom’s parents were already gone at that time.”
“What happened?” she breathed as the bra fell on the ground at her feet.
His hand traced her right scapula. “Part of the reason Longbottom was able to come out of the shell his grandmother nagged him into in our world was due to Potter. With no Potter, Longbottom didn’t stand a chance.”
She closed her eyes as his other hand joined, tracing her shoulder blades around to her spine and then down to her waist, circling it. She tried to fight down the fizzle of attraction and settled for sticking to the story. “And you?”
“Apparently, I was always meant to become a spy. Pettigrew was always a rat. I didn’t have the sense of duty to Longbottom I had toward Potter and he was ever the spineless twit. I suppose that without that rivalry and stubborn streak Potter had, Longbottom didn’t have an extra push. The Dark Lord won. I ended the vision when Hogwarts fell. I had no wish to see any further.”
“Some things were meant to be,” she whispered.
“So it would seem,” he drawled and backed away. “Come. Off with the rest. We need to prepare. Time is short.”
She nodded and drew in a sharp breath. Had he always been so warm? Her head spun at what he’d revealed. But it did strengthen her resolve. She was meant to do this. So, she drew down her underwear, ignored the biting night air, and walked to the water basin. The bathing ritual was simple but exact. Hands in one motion, then head to toe using even circular strokes, then switch partners. She tried to avert her eyes as Snape bathed but it proved futile. She supposed she shouldn’t be ashamed. She was about to know him in a biblical sense.
“There is no shame in being nervous,” he drawled as he completed bathing. “I imagine the thought of lying with your old professor is a bit nauseating.”
“No it isn’t,” she snapped before she could stop herself. She fought down the blush and cleared her throat. “I mean… I’ve just… I’ve never done this.”
His smirk told her he didn’t believe her for a second but his words were strangely soothing. “I’ll not say it will be the best experience of your life. But I’m not ignorant in the ways of pleasing a woman. I might be inherently selfish, but I’m not cruel. Please don your robe.”
She put on the offered white silk robe with shaking hands and waited for him to do the same. It was odd, seeing her normally stern dark professor dressed in pure white. It very nearly matched his skin. But she put it out of her mind and started focusing on what she wanted. All Hallows Eve was the one night of the year when one could contact the spirits from beyond the veil. And she had a bone to pick with one of them.
“What are you planning to lure him here with?”
She grabbed her old beaded bag and pulled out a small burlap bag. “It’s part of his death eater robe. Bless Ron. He pulled every string he could to get it. I imbued it with graveyard dirt and an old family heirloom the Ministry had confiscated. But if that’s not enough, I was able to get some of his blood.”
Snape grabbed the bag and gingerly opened it. Inside, the ring practically pulsed with evil. “It’s his. I’ll never forget that feeling.”
“I take it you’re familiar?”
He nodded. “Dolohov and I never got along. Even less so after he cursed you at the Ministry that night. He held a grudge because I reversed the curse, though I insisted that I had to in order to maintain my position at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord eventually had to squash it but he never let it go.”
“Did he ever try to get revenge?”
“Very much so,” he drawled, replacing the ties on the bag. “But he’s never been a match for me. Paranoia has its virtues.”
“Maybe I should have employed more of it,” she hedged. “I should have put up more than just a perimeter spell.”
“You couldn’t have known. Most everyone thought he’d been rounded up with the rest.”
“Yes well, you see where that got me.”
“Indeed,” he drawled and reached out to take her hand. “It’s time. Come.”
She stepped inside the circle with him, trying her best to quell the shiver of power. She sat down on the white silk makeshift mattress in the middle of the circle and watched Snape give up the offerings. They were quickly consumed by the elements and power hummed through her veins. She was startled at the sudden warmth that settled in her bones, taking away some of the numbing cold that had come about due to bathing in the elements.
“Hold your desire in your mind,” Snape instructed. “I’ll start the spell when it’s set.”
She closed her eyes and pictured Dolohov while placing the burlap bag at the foot of the mattress. She secured it with a quick sticking spell in case things got a little crazy. Dolohov had caused her immense pain at the Ministry and he seemed to take sick pleasure in targeting her. She wasn’t sure it was because she was a mudblood or Harry’s friend. Maybe it was because he fancied her looks and hated himself for it. She’d never forget the feel of her cock against her back when he’d held her to him. Then again, he could have just gotten off on the power. Whatever it was, she could still feel his hand running down her body after the curse, the burning pain and sick feeling. She wanted him to come forth. She had to know what he’d done. And she had to know tonight.
“Good,” he drawled. “Hold it there. That desire. Don’t let it go.”
She kept her mind focused on her desire, keeping it the forefront of her mind. Snape chanted long and low, melodic in his booming bass. Several times she found her focus slipping, his soothing voice like a balm for her soul. She harshly redirected herself. It was Dolohov she wanted. And this time, the bastard wasn’t going to get away. Snape was helping her across the veil tonight, not ripping her out of it. The spell finished with a hum. She shivered at the intensity of the wards that surrounded them now. No one would be able to break in. And they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
“Are you ready, Miss Granger?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I’d be better if you’d quit calling me Miss Granger. It makes me feel like I’m 11 again.”
He smirked and tilted his head in acceptance. “Have it your way, Hermione.”
She shivered at way her name fell from his lips. At least she wouldn’t have any problems with attraction. If she were completely honest with herself, she’d been attracted to him on some level for quite some time now. She certainly wouldn’t have taken to stalking him quite as stringently as she had the past few years. He knew it too, if that secretive smirk was anything to go by.
“Are you ready to begin?” he drawled and held out a hand to her.
She nodded and stood. They would begin this by joining hands and chanting the ancient rights. Samhain was a night when primal magic prevailed. Magic old as time, pure as light, as close to the source as one could get. It had been at least a century since the wizarding world had regularly practiced this kind of magic, not since they’d discovered wands. Long ago, magical practitioners had to ask for magic from the ancient sources of nature. It ran through the core but it was much more difficult to access it, thus the need for rituals. People paid more attention to the seasons, the equinoxes and the solstices, shifts in nature itself. Magic was more powerful back then in many ways. She would need it tonight.
“I want you to center yourself,” Snape purred. “You need to be absolutely certain of what you want. The rituals of Samhain depend on it. In ancient times, couples would enter this circle to ask the elements to grant them specific magical abilities, those they had not yet mastered. They asked for the power of prophesy we now call divination, second sight which is the ability to see auras, and many asked for fertility. But Samhain is unique in the way of gifts and you require an ability not granted to anyone save a Percivel.”
“The ability to speak to the dead beyond the veil,” Hermione said with resolve. “I have to find Dolohov.”
“Center your mind on him but do not lose yourself. You must know both to make contact.”
“Will you help me?” she asked hoarsely. “I… I can’t concentrate on both.”
Snape nodded curtly. “Which is precisely why I pulled you out last year. You forgot yourself. Lower your walls, Hermione. Let me in.”
She gave him a sad smile. “They were never up.”
He nodded. “Legillimens.”
She felt the push in her mind, a gentle brush with consciousness. Snape was definitely a gifted legillimens. He probably had the ability to break into Voldemort’s mind.
“I never dared try,” Snape whispered aloud.
She jumped, startled that she had heard it inside and outside her mind… like an echo. “What?”
“He was much too powerful to try to slip in, though it was tempting.”
She frowned. “How… how are you doing this?”
“Dual consciousness,” he explained. “I’m going to pull you into a corner of my mind. There you will find the instructions to split your mind, both connected and open. I ask that you don’t stray. I’m not accustomed to placing my trust in others.”
“I won’t betray it,” she said firmly.
“I know,” he whispered.
Then she realized he was looking into her thoughts at their origin. She couldn’t betray him if she wanted to. She’d think it and he’d see it before she ever had a chance to act on subconscious thought. Actually, if they were to do this together, that would be necessary for both of them. Complete trust was needed to share energies and she could think of no other way to gain trust than to look at someone at their very core. But it went against who Severus Snape was at his core. He knew they’d need to do this. Why would he agree?
“Come on,” he instructed.
She felt the tug in her mind, the gentle push in the right direction. A sliver of light opened in her mind, not so much by sight but by feel. It was warm, bright, almost cheerful if one could describe what that meant. She followed instinctively, staying on the path before her. As she wandered further along, she could hear a low hum, Snape’s conscious thought. It said “follow me” on repeat. She came to a door in short order. “Enter,” she heard the thought stream say.
Behind the door, she saw Snape in sort of a time lapse scenario. Visions of him in several different meditative sessions flashed by, but she could hear his thoughts. They were well organized, a series of ordered thinking techniques. How to sort thoughts into categories, change their direction, split them into incoming and outgoing. Basically, it was like a numbering and filing system. But through his musings, she understood what she had to do. There was a barrier in her mind, like a filter between subconscious and conscious. She could use that to split her consciousness into two streams.
“I understand,” she said. This time, the thought came from inside and outside.
“Good,” he said. “Now, we venture to the edges of our minds. We keep them connected, but only on a surface level. We’ll be able to speak without speaking now. That will give us the advantage when contacting Dolohov.”
She followed him back to the edge of his mind, careful not to stray. He’d shown an immense amount of trust by letting her traipse in without so much as a wall to keep her in place. She’d noticed it more now, the steady stream of idol thoughts. It was doubtful that anyone had been able to witness even this level of openness. How had Voldemort not known he was hiding something?
“He knew,” Snape answered her thoughts with his own. “I kept the walls up and a careful practice of taking down the ones that he chose. It looked as though he had battered through them and took what he wanted.”
“When in reality, you just created that space,” she thought back and felt his agreement. Seeing how Snape’s mind worked helped her to close some of the holes she had in her own occlumency practice. Not that she’d need it later, but it was nice to put some of the lingering questions to bed.
“Precisely,” he murmured as they reached the edge of their minds. “Now, your eyes are already open… but I want you to look though them. See me.”
She focused on seeing Snape through her own eyes, standing in front of her. The black pools struck her as oddly beautiful and strangely comforting. She could still hear his thoughts, dull murmurs repeating the items needed for the ritual, the steps to be taken, the path to be followed… and a small thought for how surprised he was… surprised at the level of his attraction for her. He… he liked the way she looked. She kept her mouth closed, though her thoughts did momentarily shift to one of thanks and mutual admiration.
It was strange, the intimacy the dual connection granted them. She was unnerved by it but there was nothing for it. In order to share his strength, she had to share his mind. Once again, she marveled at how he could let her in like this. Still, his thoughts betrayed nothing. She wouldn’t pry either. Her mother had told her long ago not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She’d questioned everything in her younger years. Now she knew better.
“You’ve done it,” he said softly. “Now focus and recite the spell with me.”
She nodded and focused her mind once again on Dolohov. One step closer. She was going to find him if it was the very last thing she did. And when she did find that bastard, she was going to pry that information from him or rip him apart trying. She felt Snape’s amusement… and his resolve. He would help her… and he might have a few bones to pick as well.
She repeated the spell in sync with him. It had taken her ages to look up the exact pronunciation of each word and careful practice not to say them all in sync so as not to accidentally invoke a spell. Now she was glad she’d worked as diligently as she had. One wrong syllable could be disastrous.
When the final word was spoken, she could feel the magic pulse around them. It was a familiar sensation, like hanging with Harry again. But this was something infinite, limitless, and all encompassing. Horrifying and awe inspiring at the same time. She could finally understand why countless others before her had chosen to go through with this ritual. Consequences or not, this was power beyond measure.
“Refocus,” Snape ordered.
She pulled her thoughts back into order. Dolohov. She wanted him. But she wasn’t sure she could finish the ritual while she was so focused on him. It didn’t feel right.
“No, you needn’t do that,” he reassured her. “Once the spell is set, you won’t need to focus as stringently. Keep him in the back of your thoughts, but your mind on the tasks ahead to reach him.”
Snape pulled the gold cords seemingly out of thin air along with the long silver dagger. She kept repeating the words of the spell as he lashed their left palms loosely together and slid the dagger in between them. She faltered only a second when the sharp edge sliced drug across her skin but steeled herself. This pain was a mere shadow of that which she’d already experienced at the hands of others. Blood ran in a small rivulet down her arm, mixing with Snape’s swirling in to the air, over toward the edge of the ritual circle. He joined her for the last verse, his booming voice melding with hers until it seemed to blend perfectly into an unrecognizable force. With a final staccato, they fell silent.
The circle pulsed with energy, momentarily taking her breath away. A golden orb formed, enveloping everything inside the circle, lifting them a few feet into the air and spinning them until they were facing north and south on the compass. The mattress had spun east and west, though the burlap bag remained where she’d stuck it to the ground. She worried for only a second when the spell gently sat them down. The bag would be inches away from her reach when they finished this ritual, easy to grab. The spell sparked out, leaving the feeling of the power but no barrier.
“Are you ready?” Snape asked.
She gulped and nodded, watching with wide eyes as he slowly plucked the silk robe away from her body. It fell to the wayside, seemingly uninhibited by the gold cord still tying them together. Magic was mind boggling sometimes. She jumped when he grabbed her hand and motioned for her to do the same to him. It felt… unnerving to disrobe him in such a way. Yet he remained stoic and steadfast as his robe fell to the ground. She frowned at their still bound hands.
“Until we are joined, they will remain,” Snape explained.
She frowned harder. “Won’t that make… collection… difficult?”
Snape merely shrugged. “Not terribly. Come. Let us finish the ritual.”
Her frown turned into a puzzled brow. “Shouldn’t we still be connected mentally?”
He sniggered. “We are.”
“What?” she asked and flinched as she heard the echo from his mind. “How?”
“Dual consciousness,” he explained patiently, “is enhanced by the spell. Since I’ve practiced this, I held you here to ensure the connection remained steady. It was easier than I thought it would be.”
She quirked a brow. “Is that a compliment?”
He sneered. “Did you require one?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. I’ve just never heard you say anything favorable about anyone.”
His lips pursed. “Force of habit. Now, if you would be so kind as to lower yourself onto the mattress?”
She bit her lip and slowly scooted back to the mattress, noticing he matched her in perfect sync. Was that the spell or the mental connection? Perhaps he was just that graceful. Whatever it was, she managed to sit without complication. He followed, lowering himself elegantly beside her. Her heart leapt in her throat, suddenly nervous for what was to come. It wasn’t like she didn’t know the mechanics. It was just… this was it. It seemed silly to put such an emphasis on this moment in one’s life, but she couldn’t shake it.
Her mind ground to a halt when he leaned over and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. It was… wonderful. She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. Or was that Snape wondering why she was so surprised. Did she doubt his skills? Of course not. Now she had a small stream of thoughts trailing in opposition of hers and she was having a hard time sorting out which thought came from who. After a moment, she quit trying to think and just began to feel.
His lips were soft, smooth, so different from the harsh scowl he normally kept them in. Hers were soft as well, not calloused as expected from years of biting them. A hand made its way up her neck, cradling her head and tilting it just so, the perfect angle to deepen the kiss. She gave in, thinking that she’d thought the gesture silly in the romantic novels she occasionally indulged in. How could one hand heat her up to that point? Her skin was so soft, and that bush of a mane was wonderfully silky. She wondered how his hair felt and boldly moved to cup the back of his head. It was slightly greasy, though more from potions residue than lack of care. It was also quite fine.
She hadn’t realized their descent until her back touched the mattress with a cold jolt. It quickly warmed beneath her as she threw herself into the kiss. If she was going to go through all of this trouble, she might as well allow herself the pleasure as well. She highly doubted she’d make it back from this trip in one piece. A shame really. Would it be so bad to seek respite in one another? They certainly had a degree of chemistry between them. She could feel herself melting into his touch, feel his hardness brush against her hip as he maneuvered them so they wouldn’t be at an awkward angle until the cords fell away.
The next moments were a haze of pleasure. Lips parted from hers, making their way down her neck. Wet, suckling kisses peppered her collarbones. Her hand was lifted above her head and lips drew further down her body. A tongue traced her nipples to stiff peaks. Cool breath chilled them until a warmth engulfed them, ending with a sharp nip and more nibbles. It was maddening and enlightening at the same time. She had magnificent breasts. It was a shame she’d kept them hidden. Then again, if anyone had known about them, she’d never be taken seriously.
She blinked in shock at how easily their thoughts crashed into each other. She’d never given her breasts a second thought. They’d always been more trouble than they were worth, forever getting in the way. They were scarred, a gift from Dolohov. The bastard. She’d love to put his head on a pike. Once again, she was unsure she’d thought that, though she agreed it would be a fitting punishment.
His lips moved lower, skimming her ribs and teasing her belly button. They caressed her hip bones and she wondered exactly how long his arms were. Her arm was still above her head and he was still moving lower. That nose, that wonderfully large appendage caressed the downy hair at the apex of her thighs, parting them like waves. A long gentle whiff and a sigh made her shiver. She’d never figured that the smell of the human body could turn a person on but she could feel it. Clean. Untouched. Perfect. So long had it been. She shivered and held herself.
One lick and she arched off the mattress, panting at the intensity of the encounter. This wasn’t at all how she thought it would be. How much foreplay was needed before the inevitable. But it seemed that he agreed that she should experience a modicum of pleasure tonight because he dove in with relish. Nose, lips, tongue, a wonderfully lithe tongue wiggled inside, lapping at her dripping quim. She tried her best to keep her reactions to a minimum, lest she break his jaw with the intensity of her movements. But her cries would not abate and she sang out into the night. His approval covered her like a blanket, encouraging her to increase her volume. It was a strange place to be, awkward yet freeing. It was a pity that this would be the first and last time.
Wave upon wave of pleasure built, forcing her to latch onto him with the one hand she had. The other was tight above her head, his hand keeping it immobile. She grabbed what she could for purchase, a strong shoulder, a prominent shoulder blade, his elbow that was now propping up her hip to ensure the correct angle. Still lower she found strong back muscles and the curve of a shapely arse, flexing to move with her. The pleasure hit a crescendo and she broke, shaking and moaning in a way she never thought possible. It was positively whorish… and he loved it.
She tried to gain a breath as his knees carefully spread her legs further, his weight settling on top of her. She felt the tip of what she’d assessed earlier as an above average cock brush against her entrance. She tensed and then caught herself. This was what needed to happen, though she found herself caring a lot less now. He’d been wonderful.
“This will just be a pinch,” he murmured as he tapped her inner thigh with his wand. She felt the pinch in her core and the strange oozy feeling of her blood being taken. It lasted only for a moment before Snape had everything including his wand stowed away. He leaned up and she was able to look directly into his eyes. There was a fire there, a passion she hadn’t known him capable of. He was… beautiful. His eyes flashed with acknowledgement before he took her lips again. She catalogued the unique taste of herself but quickly gave in.
He began rocking his hips into hers, carefully adjusting their hips just so, making sure everything was as it should be. How could he think so many things at the same time? Her brain only had two thoughts, the pain she knew would come, and the look on Dolohov’s face when she forced his sorry arse out of the veil.
“Don’t focus on the pain,” Snape murmured against her lips. “Focus on sharing my strength. Search my mind. Find it. Take it. Allow the pleasure to fill you, take you, make it your own.”
She began racing through is mind, careful to read the doors as she sped by. He’d done her the favor of labeling them quite neatly. Then she found it, a pulsing red velvet door with her name on it, quite garish actually. At least it stood out. She pushed through and found Snape, lying on top of her, his eyes filled with fire. As he moved, the muscles in his back and arse shifted, reminding her of a lithe tiger getting ready to pounce. He had such strength. She came closer and felt it, the burning need and pleasure that he’d held back. His cock was aching and he couldn’t last much longer. But he held back. He held back for her. She understood then. She placed her hand on his ribs, sinking her nails into the vision, allowing her mind to absorb the feeling.
Her eyes flew open to see his, glowing with lust. They made her shiver and she gave in. He sank into her slowly, allowing her to adjust to his girth. She rolled her hips, helping him, letting him set the pace and accepting him. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it wasn’t the all-consuming burning pain she’d come to expect. They rocked together for what seemed like hours until he was able to glide in and out freely. When she’d fully adjusted, he increased his ardor, his hips snapping with every thrust. The pleasure began to build, coming to a peak until she fell, rising in the air instead of toward the ground. Her vision went white.
“Think of your destination,” she heard Snape think. “You must go there.”
The veil.
AN: Dun dun DUNNNN...
I'm really hoping you liked this installment. One more to go. Just one. Stop laughing. I mean it. It's not funny. ;)
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Stepping through the Veil