Author's Note: So, here we are. Chapter 50. I've been trying to maintain a bit of radio silence so you're not stuck reading my silly ramblings on a regular basis, but I wanted to talk about a couple things. First off, my hand/writing situation: I've been resting my hands nightly but still find myself suffering a bit of stiffness/aches and pains, so writing has been touch-and-go, but I just keep getting so many damn ideas and ways that I want to weave the narrative that I find myself writing anyway (I know, I'm terrible).

I wanted to go into more detail about the Dark Mark, and a possible reason for how it can affect behavior. It is my belief that the magic in the Mark itself is somewhat vampiric, which is why Voldemort is so interested in it- what better way to get power than to force your trusted followers to collect power for you with the promise that it will make them stronger also?

Also, I wanted to welcome some of the new commenters/readers that I've been seeing lately! Your feedback really inspires me. Also, to those who have stuck with my work since Chapter 1, I wanted to set aside a big ol' basket of thanks as well. I try to respond to questions if you have them and clear up confusion as well, so please keep letting me know what you think and if you have any predictions or ideas about where I'm going with this story or the elements that I have introduced, I like hearing those too….ehehehe….

;) Well, you know what that means...

Chapter 50: Luck of the Potion

Severus Snape did not consider himself the kind of person who laughed easily, the way that the well-cared for and the well-loved seemed to do almost effortlessly. Part of him thought that it was because a person such as himself, who had done so many evil things simply did not deserve to engage in such a behavior out of some warped idea of penance, but another part simply acknowledged resignedly that his life in general did not inspire much in the way of joviality. It was as though someone had written his life as a study of how much absolute misery one person could encounter in a lifetime, taking a cruel joy in his suffering. For while he thought that it was a good thing that he was not a fictional character, that it was preferable to have agency and choices in how he lived his life, a part of him wished that he could simply blame his misfortune on something outside of his control, some outside agent whom he could blame for every wrong turn he had made in his past.

In these moments with Hermione, though, he found himself feeling as though he had slipped into someone else's life, a life where he could do normal things, like smile or laugh, without expecting someone to interpret them as weaknesses rife for exploitation. Where he could say embarrassingly honest things that would normally provoke a sarcastic comment or observation from him to shut the other person down and minimize any potential damage to himself when he was inevitably betrayed.

He had never considered himself a particularly emotional man, but there were certain, rare memories that made his heart skip and retread the same places over and over until they created deep furrows. Lily had laid the first grooves deeply, and the wound she had left when they had fallen out in their fifth year had been agonizing. But the past few months...whenever he allowed himself to really think about it, they had been the absolute happiest days of his life. And regardless of the dark days that were sure to come, he could not bear to let go of each golden moment that he was able to experience in the warmth and heat of devoted affection.

It was frightening how easy it was to forget his missions for his respective masters, his masks and personas in the arms of someone who loved him with an utterly open heart. Both Hermione and Lily loved and lived with open, honest hearts that made him feel awkward and broken in comparison. But they did not begrudge him for it, and as the lust and limerence had developed into a deeper feeling that thrummed deep inside his chest like an involuntary mantra, he became more and more certain that at some point he would wake up and all of this would be a dream, a sign that he was losing his mind. But madness was almost preferable to the thought of losing everything he had gained.

He had not yet finished his presentation on the butterbeer potion findings, but neither of them seemed worried about this fact. They had this time, golden and warm, and they reveled in wonder in the moments that had led them there. As they lay catching their breaths from their bout of hysterics, it had been all too easy to stroke her cheek gently. All too easy to bring her eager lips to his. All too easy to kiss her deeply again and again as she explored his body with her hands, bringing him down from his thoughts and solidly into the reality of the pleasure spreading through him as she brought his senses to life and he grew achingly full of need.

He adored the small noises she made as he touched her body in soft, sensitive places, her cute, embarrassed expression when she made them and the moment the heat of desire filled her eyes, and she was blushing with a need of her own.

Of course, there was no way he would ever tell anyone what was going on in his head as they writhed together, giving and receiving pleasure in kind. She just seemed to know that if she kissed his neck just so, that he would shiver and pant in encouragement. He knew that the secret place along the top of her spine where her neck met her back was simply aching to be licked in a soft but frantic way, and he marveled in the way she moaned and thrashed at the feeling of her nerves sounding off in a chorus of sensation.

As he slid his hands down the back of her dress and then worked at the zipper at the back of it, she began undoing the buttons at the front of his coat as they inhaled the crackling heat of power that flowed from both of their bodies, mixing in the air. Wordlessly, he increased the size of the couch so that they could both move more easily with a flick of his wand, setting it down on the side table and helping her slip out of her clothing. The clasp on her bra was not nearly as troublesome as had been rumored and he wondered if that was simply some kind of myth that girls perpetuated to intimidate would-be suitors. He did note with some concern that her breasts appeared to be straining somewhat uncomfortably against the soft cups of the device. He decided he would help her resize it later so that it would be less cumbersome, though any excuse to run his hands over the soft but supple skin of her breasts was welcomed. She let him slip out of his pants and shorts, the contrast of the paleness of his skin and the darkness of the fabric was stark and jarring, making him feel increasingly awkward with his nudity, even in his aroused state. But he had no more time to think about it as she pulled him against her and he drew in the scent of her hair, feeling the tortuous ache of pleasure as she moved lower against the front of him and began kissing and licking against his belly. She teased him a bit, licking the side of his hips on both sides, running one hand along his shaft slightly as he bucked slightly against the motion. When she kissed the head of his cock, he couldn't stop himself from moaning loudly and his cheeks reddened even though he knew that no one else would hear but her. She gave him the sort of grin that said I want to make you do that again and he realized that for all his embarrassment, he shared that desire tenfold.

After a few more kisses and a few more moans and a few more wicked grins, she began to set to work at licking the tip of his cock, running a hand against the hard expanse of his erection and closing her palm and fingers around it in a soft but pleasurable manner. When she stuck out her tongue and gently spread a hot, wet lick against the underside of his shaft as she held her other hand against the base of it, he had to restrain himself from grabbing her and taking her immediately. He ran his fingers over her hair, marveling in the curls and snarls of auburn and chestnut strands that, once placed together in a singular mass, made it seem almost oceanic in size. His legs quivered as he tried to maintain standing upright as her actions drove his senses wild with pleasure and need.

When he least expected it, he felt her warm, wet mouth completely envelop the tip of his cock, and he noticed from a place that seemed almost outside of himself that it was as though a slew of embarrassing noises were coming steadily from his mouth without his bidding, as though they were being pulled directly from the depths of his brain as she sent waves of pleasure through each nerve in his body. He could find himself letting go of his habit of controlling himself and lost himself in the sensations she pulled from him, slowly and achingly beautiful in their simplicity.

Her work, as always, was immaculate, and she read his reactions as though they were instructions of what to do next. When he moved instinctively against her as her ministrations struck a chord, she continued and kept it building in intensity. When he seemed to still, she changed her movements until he was moving against her again. He loved what she was doing, but he didn't want it to end like this, not with only a vicarious feeling of accomplishment for her, as he was certain that once he reached his limit, he was sure to collapse uselessly to the floor. The crackling power rising from their bodies ran in rivulets over their skin like heat waves in summertime, filling their senses with a wavering sweetness.

With a gentle motion, he slid down into a kneeling position, wresting free gently from her mouth and feeling a distinct sense of emptiness without the pressure of her lips against his shaft. He looked at her, gratitude shining brightly in his eyes and he kissed her gently once and then with more urgency, pressing her backwards against him, chest to chest, settling his weight onto her as she breathed more quickly under him in anticipation. Her eyes were partially closed and she brought up a hand to cradle against his jaw gently, even as his hair fell forward in his face as he looked down back at her.

"Please, Severus," she said huskily, and he could not deny her.

She was so wet, so eager, so ready and his heart raced at the heat that wrapped around his cock. He held her so tightly to him as they moved together, feeling himself slip into a steady rhythm with her. Fucking her was so simple and it was impossible to remember exactly what it was like before he had experienced this- the heat, the light, the unbearably amazing sensation of his whole body singing in ecstatic harmony as he drove his cock deeper and deeper into her until he bottomed out and she mewled at the sudden, complete sensation of fullness.

He felt a jolt of self-consciousness when she reached up and slid her hands up and behind his neck, threading her fingers through the dark, somewhat greasy hair that lay at the nape of his neck. He was embarrassed thinking that she could feel it, that she would be disgusted at the sensation, but she made no move to take her hands away, nor did she make even a slight shudder of revulsion. Something about her complete willingness to touch his body, even the parts that he knew he could take better care of, touched him more than kisses or caresses. Every time he saw the white faded scars where pink and angry red used to be, he was reminded of her power, of her kindness. And when he was at his worst, somehow she accepted him regardless.

"Can-can I?" she said breathlessly, her eyes far away and full of adoration, moving her legs up to hold him around his lower back.

"Oh, yes," he moaned, thrusting deeper still as he cupped a hand under her arse and steadied himself over her with the other.

When he felt her tensing in waves around his shaft, he kept up the even, deliberate motions that she seemed to enjoy most and she cried out and rocked against him as orgasm hit her, intensifying his own pleasure. He held himself back, though, continuing the motion until he felt something catch inside of her just as she seemed to relax again in afterglow, pulling her into a similar frantic feeling of climax. She shuddered and he felt it run through him as well, drawing out his orgasm and he poured his cum deeply into her, feeling her legs tense around him as he held her arse angled upward, fully buried as deeply possible within her.

Moments later, they both lay facing one another, spent and drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as they recovered from their efforts. He gazed at her naked body through the haze of his sated lust, and noticed that she seemed...different...somehow. Her body seemed fuller, as though she'd had a growth spurt that left her softer and more womanly than girlish. He wasn't exactly an expert on anatomy, but it made sense. She was just barely an adult. there were so many changes to come with age, and he had to admit, he did enjoy the view, especially since he was fairly certain that that his emaciated, scarred and overly pale body was not providing the same level of visual pleasure. Still, something warm and pleasant pulsed against his stomach whenever he caught her studying his body with that open gaze, those eyes huge and seeing everything that he was without even the hint of guile.

She hesitantly brought over her hand to his, entwining fingers together and smiling softly.

"I'm going to miss...this…" she trailed off sadly.

"Me too," he said simply, trying to keep an even tone.

"But...maybe…." she glanced away and her cheeks were growing pink as she seemed to muster up her courage to say what she was thinking.

"Yes?" he said, and he almost smacked himself over the head instinctively at how nakedly eager he sounded.

"Well, I've been thinking….maybe I could see you during the break?" she said, her voice uncharacteristically small and quiet.

"I…." his mind began to frantically think of a way that he could somehow pull this off without causing an air of impropriety to descend on both of their heads, "I...will have to think about it. We must still be very careful. I do not think your parents would appreciate it if I visited and something happened to cause you to transform into Lily in front of them. Additionally, I may be called to the Dark Lord's side for some of the time, and I do not want you to become involved."

"I...understand," she said sadly, trying to avoid his eyes.

He brought his free hand to her chin and turned her face to his, tilting his own down until their foreheads touched softly. He met her eyes with a calm stare.

"I will do whatever I can to make sure that I can visit you while you are away from Hogwarts," he said solemnly, trying not to smile at the suddenly eager expression that played across her face, "I will require your address. I assume that you have already come up with some plausible explanation as to why I would be turning up at your house, so I shall leave that part to you."

She squeaked happily and brought her mouth to his, wrapping her arms around him and drawing close to him again. He didn't know how to find the words to tell her that he would sooner choose to live a life without ever receiving a single holiday present again if only he could have her like this and leave his other, more unpleasant duties by the wayside. It was a wish that went unsaid but grew stronger in his heart as each day passed by, and some days he almost felt that he could make it into words, though he dared not try in the face of the forces he faced and bit them back again. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort were very good at taking what one loved and twisting it to be used for their own ends, even though they each did it in a different way. And he would sooner die than see Hermione be used to control his loyalties and actions. He felt her heart beating against his own in that steady love me love me love me love me cadence and he tried to hold the moment and press it deeply into his memories before it slipped away with the passage of time.


They dozed together for a short while until Lily awoke and Hermione kissed Severus gently so that they could change places. Lily gave him a special pumpkin spice cake that she had baked herself using Hermione's knowledge of how to get into the kitchens, and as she was in Lily form, none of the house elves gave Lily any trouble whatsoever when she explained what she wanted to do, supplying her with her own oven and plenty of ingredients and supplies. She knew how much he loved these cakes, from when they were children and he would visit her parents' home for the holidays, often scarfing down three or four pieces. It was an Evans family tradition to make at least one per holiday, and before they had fallen out, Lily had taken to making a second one as a gift, which she would wrap in a box for him to take home and save.

The memories hit Severus hard, and he gave her a genuine smile when he smelled that distinct scent wafting up from the waxed box he'd opened. Just when he had almost forgotten why he'd fallen for Lily, he found himself falling again, the love building in his chest until he felt it might explode.

He had thanked her with a kiss of his own and they spent some time cuddling, with Lily looking slyly at him as she deduced exactly what he'd been up to with Hermione the entire time she'd been sleeping, and a sly insinuation that perhaps he should make sure that he wasn't offering unfairly uneven affection. This, of course, had led to catching up on their own carnal pursuits. He took her from behind this time, marveling at the way her wavy red hair ran down her milky white back, how her moans were so much higher than Hermione's and how her longer torso and legs lent themselves better to this position. Once she was sated, he watched her transform once again into a very physically spent Hermione, and he marveled again at this bright spot of pure happiness in a life that had been little more than suffering and despair before.

After a mutual look of sweaty understanding, they decided that a shower was in order, and he realized that it was actually quite amazing to have someone else in the shower to scrub his back and then happily return the favor. Getting to see one of his favorite people naked didn't hurt, either. After they were clean and some late-night snacks had been collected from the small kitchenette, Severus finished his informative explanations of his butterbeer potion findings.

"The most interesting part about this potion, one that stumped me for a few days," he said, "Is that, in the end, it's like the old riddle."

"Which one?" Hermione asked, munching quietly on a biscuit.

"When is a potion not a potion?" Severus said slyly, smirking at Hermione's confused expression.

"I'm not sure I follow," she said carefully.

"The answer I found surprised me at first. I didn't think it would be possible to do, but a couple of the remaining ingredients that I thought were preservatives were actually binding agents. Go on, see if you can figure it out for yourself," he smiled wider at her look of determination.

Hermione was leafing through his notebook, and finally she made a noise of discovery.

"I got it!" she said loudly, "When is a potion not a potion? When it's two potions!"

"Precisely," he purred, and she got that pleasurable look on her face that she always had when a professor praised her work.

"Someone took the Amortentia potion and….no, that can't be," Hermione said, shocked.

"But that is exactly what they did," Severus replied, "Someone figured out how to bind the Felix Felicis potion to Amortentia. Not only does it give a directed desire to the person who takes it, but it confers them pure luck for the duration of the potion's efficacy. That is how you got through my sophisticated locks and magical barriers with nary a worry while under its influence. That is why you were able to bind yourself to Lily. In fact, I'm not sure you would have succeeded that first time without having done that."

Hermione seemed to deflate a little, her face crestfallen.

"No, you misunderstand me," he said quickly, "This...you...are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I almost want to find out whoever did this and thank them, though I can tell that to some extent, the fact that you drank it instead of….Potter...was mere happenstance, and it is a happenstance that I am most grateful for. But the fact remains that this is what happened. And now that we know that, we can figure out how we can separate the two of you safely. I know it sounds presumptuous of me, but I do have a small lab of my own at my house in Spinner's End. If I can get the correct materials together by then, we may be able to make some headway on helping stop the transformations and getting Lily her own body."

It took them many hours of talking about their plans, and Hermione was sure to bring up her research on Shades, which Severus found incredibly interesting, not having studied that particular branch of magical theory before. They slept away a few blessedly quiet hours in the library, the lights having been magically dimmed to a comfortable deep twilight. The scent of him against her mingled with the heavenly smells of parchment, wood and ink and Hermione found it easy to fall into a comfortable and dreamless sleep. Severus, too, found it easier to sleep with her pressed against him, even though he still couldn't get comfortable until his wand was tucked safely under his pillow.

In the morning, Hermione was able to use the deserted corridors to her advantage as she rushed to get everything ready for the train, but she missed most of her fellow Gryffindor students and had to sit in the back with some first-year Hufflepuffs who kindly allowed her to take a window seat, as she still felt a vague sense of motion sickness. She had checked her bag a couple times and everything seemed to be in order, but she still had a strange sense of having forgotten something.

Severus could practically feel the moment that Hermione and Lily were no longer on the grounds of Hogwarts anymore. There was an empty sense of something being missing that hadn't been before, even when classes and obligations had kept them apart. He didn't like feeling this way- it was uncomfortable and unpleasant. It only strengthened his resolve to see her during the winter break, even if he had to create an artificial reason to go. He had her invitation, after all. It was silly for him to overthink this. It was only then, when he was looking around the room, gathering the clothing that still lay strewn on the stone floor, that he realized that Hermione's Christmas present had been knocked off the side table at some point and lay on the floor against the couch, forgotten.

Retrieving the package and tucking it into his robes, Severus grinned slightly as a plan began to materialize. He strode purposefully down the hall into his workroom, shoes clicking crisply against the stone, and began making preparations for the important work to come.