Chapter 14: Traces
Hermione didn't leave the laboratory that night. Ideas twisted and turned in her mind. Sleep would only get in the way.
Roll after roll of parchment was quickly covered with hasty scribbles that looked nothing like her customary neat handwriting.
She had never seen another magical being while under the influence of the potion, but presumably other magical creatures, like house-elves and centaurs, would have magic organized in strands just like wizards.
And what about magical objects? Did they contain traces of the magic of their makers? Could the transfiguration of a teacup, for example, be unraveled just as easily as she had held Snape's magic against him?
But there were magical objects littering all of the rooms in which she had taken the potion and she had never seen a hint that her theory might be true...unless the traces weren't nearly as strong, not nearly as bright as the magic of a wizard…but that didn't mean that they weren't there at all. Maybe the magical residue of the manipulated objects had simply been too dim to notice…
It wasn't something she could find in any book, and for the first time, Hermione Granger veered off the path of precedent and into blind experimentation.
Not until the early light of dawn inched over the horizon did she make her way back to her own room. And by then, she had a plan.
The previous night had been the last of their batch of Devil's Eye. It was just as well; she would need a fresh batch for what she had planned.
A few hours of sleep were adequate. The morning came quickly and she wanted to waste no time. Fortunately, Snape was busy in his role as errand-boy for both masters over the next few days and she was left alone to brew the potion.
Hermione had finished brewing by the time he got a break. The potion had been decanted and divided among seven vials neatly lined up on the counter, waiting for his return.
He crossed the room and picked up a vial, examining it under the light. The contents were not the weak, sickly yellow of the previous batches, but a deep golden hue.
"What is this?" he demanded.
"A more concentrated version of the potion."
"How many pinches of powdered dragon scales did you add?"
"Seven."
He looked up at her sharply.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"
"Yes."
"If you were to ingest this, it would put you dangerously close to an overdose."
"I know."
He stared at the potion silently for a moment, and then looked up at her again and asked seriously, "Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"No," she answered, but he looked unconvinced. She continued. "Dangerously close is all I want. I think if the potion were stronger, I might be able to see more, like magical residue from spells, more than just magical beings."
His hand was unresisting and she pulled the potion from his grasp. She held the vial to her lips but hesitated, meeting his eyes.
"You know what to do in case I overdose?"
"Hermione," he begged.
"I'm doing this with or without you. If you're here, there's a better chance of me living through it."
The potion was thicker this time as she poured it down her throat. It was sticky and thick and it was hard to breathe as she swallowed.
She staggered and then caught herself against the table as it rushed through her veins with an intensity she could not even have imagined let alone prepared herself for.
Patterns swam before her eyes but it was too bright, too fast, too much.
She tried to concentrate on one pattern, but others flared at the edges of her vision.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped to the ground. He was over her in a second, shoving something small and hard into her mouth and turning her onto her side as she gagged and vomited.
What followed was a blur of potions being poured down her throat as she fluttered in and out of consciousness.
Finally, she felt herself being levitated to the couch and wrapped in a blanket. Her breathing gradually returned to normal and she slowly opened her eyes. He was standing above her with his face buried in his hands as he furiously shook his head.
"You stupid, stupid girl," he spat.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position, still feeling weak and woozy, but excited.
"I'll lower the dosage a little next time."
His head shot up.
"Next time?"
At the look of rage on his face, she knew she could trust him. She knew he would not betray her. That rage was concern. If he was this angry that she would endanger her own life, he would not endanger it himself.
He towered over her as he shouted.
"There isn't going to be a next time. I'm putting an end to this little experiment of yours right now."
His quick strides into the laboratory left her alone and she struggled to catch up. Still weakened from her overdose, she had to brace herself against the table as she walked. She stopped between him and the vials, shielding the potion from his rage with her body.
"Please don't destroy them. There's something here. I know there is. It might be risky, but it's important. There could be something here that might be able to save Harry," she implored, placing her hand on his sleeve and looking into his face with her big brown eyes, begging him to let her continue with her experiments.
He took a step backwards, a look of dawning comprehension on his face.
"Oh sweet Merlin, it's you, isn't it?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"All the rule breaking, all the mischief you three got up to and I always assumed it was the two boys who dragged you along for the ride. But it was you. You like the risk."
"It's not that I like it…I just recognize that sometimes important things don't come easily, that sometimes the right path is the most difficult, the most dangerous one."
He sank down onto a stool.
"Is this worth you life?"
"I think it might be."
"Before, you seemed so concerned that I was putting your life in danger."
"It's the difference between risking my life for something I believe in and being someone else's sacrifice. You of all people should understand that."
And he did. While he may not agree with her decision, he would accept it and he would help her. That was all she needed from him.
"After all, you took a calculated risk of your own."
"My deal with the Devil," he mused with a dark look.
"You mean you're not the Devil?" she replied blithely, not really expecting a reply.
"No, just the serpent."
She looked up at him.
"And that would, of course, make me Eve?"
"Yes."
She blinked.
"You know, I never really understood that story. I mean, even with all the bad stuff it brought with it…I could never understand turning away knowledge. Who would want to live in blissful ignorance? I can imagine nothing worse."
He let out a long, defeated sigh.
"Let me try the potion again."
His short laugh was followed by him shaking his head slowly in defeat.
"Later. You're weak, you should rest."
It was true. She was lightheaded and wobbly. The overdose had taken a lot out of her and if the next trial was anything like this last one, she would need all her strength before they tried again.
X
X
"How do you feel?" he asked tentatively, lines of concern creasing his face.
She took a deep breath and braced herself against the overpowering sensation of the potion. They had waited two days for her physical and magical strength to fully recover before he had deemed it safe to perform the next trial.
"I'm okay. It's not as bad as last time."
Nevertheless, he eyed her skeptically.
"You look like you're going to fall over."
Her knuckles were white as she gripped the tabletop for balance.
"No. I'm fine. I just need a minute."
She focused on her breathing and let the initial rush of the potion pass. Finally, she looked up at him and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring nod. He relaxed slightly and took his hand out of the pocket where she knew he had been fingering a bezoar.
"What do you see?"
"I can see the traces of magic on objects. They're like faint strands, mostly static or shifting slowly, not like a living being's magic."
X
She made a slow circuit of the room, trailing her fingertips along various objects, her attention shifting and lingering from object to object. Finally, she stopped in front of his desk and placed the flat of her palm against his top left drawer.
"This drawer is warded," she whispered.
"Yes."
Her eyes slipped shut as she stood silently concentrating. The effects of the potion on her were obvious. Strands of hair stuck to the perspiration of her flushed face, her pupils were so wide that there was only a thin ring of brown visible beneath the overwhelming black. He could do nothing but watch her.
The drawer slid open.
Her lips cracked into a triumphant smile as she surveyed the contents of the drawer and pulled out his grade book, dropping it onto the desk with a soft thud.
She rounded the desk, her breathing becoming quicker in her excitement.
"That quill, it isn't really a quill, is it?"
"No."
Her head quirked to the side.
"It was transfigured…but not by you?"
He stepped closer to her, unable to contain his curiosity.
"How do you know?"
"The traces of magic on it…they're not like on the drawer. They're not yours."
"Minerva made it for me."
"Can I turn it back?"
"Yes."
He watched as her hand hovered over the quill. She focused on it intently, her eyes darting back and forth. and suddenly the heavy black quill was gone and in its place was a surprisingly Muggle yellow #2 pencil.
"Minerva refused to use anything but a quill."
Her eyes turned to him with all the intensity that had been directed towards the quill.
"This is incredible."
He had not known, those months ago when he first handed her the first Dark Arts text that she would be venturing into magic for which he could offer no explanation. He had expected to teach her, to guide her, not simply to offer her a door into the unknown.
There was a dangerous shine in her eyes as she approached him.
"I can do anything."
It was the potion talking, but he couldn't help being attracted to her like this, confident and powerful.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he couldn't tear his gaze away.
How had he ever thought that he could use her as a pawn? He had thought that he could manipulate her into playing his game, but he had the distinct feeling that she who was moving the pieces.
She was lovely like this, flushed and predatory.
He knew how heightened the senses were while taking Devil's Eye and he could only imagine what she must be feeling with the more concentrated version, how much every sight, every sound would affect her.
He would fight this. He would not take advantage. He would not do any more harm to her than he already had.
She was very close to him now.
He held his breath as she reached out a single finger and trailed it down the row of buttons on his chest.
"Why are we fighting this?"
And he knew there was an answer to her question, that there must be a very good answer, but at the moment, he had no response.
She reached up and fisted his hair, lowering his head and pressing her lips against his.
Just this. Just the kiss and no more, he told himself. It was nothing they hadn't done already.
He pushed her up against the wall, remembering the feel of her around his finger.
He moved his lips against hers, reveling in their warmth, in the taste of the forbidden. His tongue stroked hers. Just this. Just this and no more. His hand traitorously slipped down her hip and over her thigh, pulling her closer to him in the process, holding her close against his aching erection.
Just this and no more.
She rubbed herself against it.
And for a moment, time stopped. He froze, torn between his desires and his better intentions. How could he do this to her? How could he take advantage of her like this?
And as always, his better nature was outmatched. After all he'd put her through, he reasoned, he owed her this…didn't he? It was a weak excuse, but he'd use it.
He turned her in his arms until her back was against his chest. Her arm snaked around his neck and grabbed his hair as he lowered his lips to her neck.
His hand slid lower and lower against her smooth stomach. And lower still, slipping under the waistband of her skirt, under the elastic of her knickers.
He found her clit and circled it before pulling her backwards with him until he was seated on the sofa with her in his lap. One hand still down her skirt, he slipped the other under the thin fabric of her blouse, seeking out the soft flesh of her breast. She squirmed against him, rubbing her bum against his erection in the process.
His fingers circled her opening, skimming the moisture and teasing her. The other hand tweaked her nipple. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder and he captured her lips in a needy kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, skimming it along the sharp edges of her teeth and her own slippery tongue.
He had dreamed of this moment, had used it as fuel for dirty fantasies behind closed doors.
He slipped a single finger into her as he had done before. He paused, but this time no knock sounded at the door. There was nothing but his pounding heartbeat, her erratic breathing, and the sinfully wet tightness enveloping his finger. She moaned as he drew it out of her slowly. He pressed it in again, further this time. And out and then back in. She started moving against him, urging him to go faster and he complied.
He added another finger to the first, stretching her wider as he pumped in and out of her. She hooked her feet around his calves and he widened his stance, causing her legs to open wider. Although she was still fully clothed, she looked utterly debauched. Her skirt was pushed up on her thighs as his skillful fingers moved underneath, causing a loud wet sound that seemed to echo around them.
"You like this?" he whispered in her ear, even though he already knew the answer.
"Yes," she moaned and then repeated.
"'Unhhhhh. Ohh yes."
He thrust his erection against her backside in time with the motion of his fingers. Finally, she threw her head back against his shoulder as her eyes slipped shut and he felt her come undone around him, clenching and squeezing his fingers as the climaxed.
The pressure on his cock, the smell of her arousal, the sticky moisture coating his fingers, it was all too much for him and he felt his own release soak his pants.
It was been too long since he had fucked and he had been fantasizing about her so often.
She rested against him as her breathing slowed, his finger still traced circles on the sticky skin of her inner thigh.
"It's getting late. You should go."
x
The potion had mostly worn off, leaving her with only a lazy hum streaming through her veins. She smiled as she let herself drift back to the memory of his fingers inside her. A sudden jerk brought her harshly back to reality. She didn't even need to look up from the purple robes to identify the wizard she had just rammed into as she turned the corner.
"S-sorry Headmaster," she stuttered as she tried to straighten her skirt. It was a lost cause. Her appearance left no doubt as to what she had been doing down in the dungeons and her cheeks flushed red with shame.
It was nothing he hadn't already believed to be happening, she reminded herself.
"Miss Granger," he greeted her tightly, disapproval evident in his frown.
She had been more at ease with lying to him than with telling the truth.
x
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Severus fastened the manacle around her wrist, muttering a charm to secure it to the wall and then dropped his arm along her body, allowing his finger to lightly caress the side of her breast.
She shivered at his touch and he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Maybe we'll have to do this again sometime."
Their experiments had gotten more and more intensive, testing the limits of what Hermione could do under the influence of the potion.
He stepped away from her, eying her with a challenging smirk.
"Alright Houdini."
"Houdini?" She raised an eyebrow, surprised at the reference.
"I told you my father was a Muggle."
And then she was alone, chained to the wall of the dungeon, held there under layers and layers of wards. And once again, in a split-moment of uncertainty, she wondered what she had gotten herself into.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the stone wall, giving herself over to the potion, feeling the patterns that swam through and around her. She felt the cool metal pull at her wrists and concentrated on the magic that held if there...his magic. It was familiar to her by now, the pattern and weave of his spells. Sure, they varied by spell, but there was a style that was uniquely his.
And her thoughts drifted to where he waited for her, past warded doors and spelled passageways. Somewhere in the dungeons, he waited. The thought aroused her terribly.
The metals cuffs fell loudly to the floor and she crossed the room to start on the door. His wards wove themselves in intricate patterns as she struggled to unravel them.
The door swung open and she took a deep breath before she started on the next, trying to calm herself and focus despite her anxiety to get through the challenges he had set for her. He was aware of her heightened sensitivity while on the potion and would reward her achievements by fingering her until she orgasmed. She was careful not to make these encounters into anything other than they were. They were dirty and intense, but she wasn't so naive as to think that they meant anything.
The thought of his cock popped into her head and her concentration broke, forcing her to start over. All their encounters so far had been about her. Sure, she had felt it straining through the taut cloth of his trousers, had rubbed against it, but she still had yet to see it. Tonight that would change. She imagined herself taking him into her mouth and...she needed to focus if she was ever going to get out of there.
Finally the last set of wards dropped and the door swung open to reveal the dark Potions Master leaning against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest.
She smirked at him from across the corridor, wordlessly casting a spell that released her hair from its binds and let it fall across her shoulder.
"You have beautiful spellwork."
He remained motionless as she approached him, kneeling before him with a wicked smile on her face.
He looked down at her as his lips tilted up laviciously
"You naughty little witch."
"I want to suck you," she replied, stroking her hand down the front of his pants, as if he had had any doubt as to what she meant.
"I want to make you come in my mouth."
She could feel him growing hard at her words.
Yes, he wanted it.
The potion spun circles in her mind. Touching him sparked sensations that tripped and sparked her nerve endings. All she had thought about as she had dismantled spell after spell in the dungeon cell was how it would feel to put his cock in her mouth, to give him pleasure, to make him lose control.
He stared at her with heat in his eyes as she unbuttoned his trousers and slowly lowered the zipper.
She circled the tip with her tongue, darting her gaze upwards for a moment to see his eyes slip halfway shut.
It was a sense of power that rivaled being able to take down his wards without a wand.
Grabbing it firmly, she took him deeper, willing her throat to relax as he head of his cock pushed against it. She held him there for a moment, increasing the pressure around him until he groaned.
That low groan set her on fire and her own hand slid beneath her skirt.
She looked up to find him watching her.
"Yes," he growled, "touch yourself while you suck me."
And she did, plunging two fingers in and out of her wet folds while he thrust his cock in and out of her mouth, his hand fisted possessively in her hair as she moaned around him.
He tensed for a second and she knew he was going to come, prepared herself for the hot, salty stream hitting the back of her throat and greedily swallowed his ejaculation, sucking forcefully as he groaned.
She let his softening member slide out of her mouth as her own orgasm took her. He slid down the wall until he was sprawled, panting on the floor. She soon joined him, collapsed against the wall, letting the hardness of the stones bring her back to reality.
Sweat glistened on his neck, even in the cool dungeon air. They lay there sweaty and sated in the darkness. She felt the potion's effect slowly wearing off, leaving her cold but clearer.
She stared straight ahead into nothing, trying to gather her thoughts.
"I feel as if there is something I am missing. As if I have all the pieces, but I just can't quite figure out how they go together."
Her gaze found his.
"I don't know what it all means."
He stood slowly, tucking himself back in and buttoning his trousers.
"There is someone who might."
He turned before she could even ask who.
"Meet me at the front gate at four tomorrow afternoon. We need to act quickly. The students will be returning in two days. We need a plan by then."
x
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A/n: Sorry for the long wait!!! Things got really busy and I was also stuck on this chapter for a while. It was a difficult one for me to write, but never fear, more chapters are coming. Thanks for sticking with me. Your reviews are great. Keep them coming!