"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 7"
By the Crystalline Temptress
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.
A/N: This chapter only has a few significant happenings, but enough to make it useful.
As much as I'm tempted to make this a graphic sex scene, I think that I won't, considering that the rating I maintain is PG-13. *sigh* I can't write a full one anyway. (Well, I can, but it'll take me forever. And besides, the thought of aphrodisiac!Snape would be enough to make me hyperventilate. :) So if I do have an attack, I won't be able to finish it anyway.)
Thanks to those who are commenting and to my beta readers. And Rei—Draco will play an important part in the end. Whether he dies or not. *evil smile* Come now, readers, should I allow Draco to die? :)
-----
"Please . . ." she whispered, pressing helplessly against him, her hands entangling in his hair.
She lay beneath him again, just as she had before. Her passion-glazed eyes held his, the blatant desire smoldering within those glassy depths. Her lips curved into a languorous smile as she stretched upward into him, her mouth finding his own, capturing it in a heated kiss. He responded with the same fervor, returning the kiss with feral longing, his hands sliding down the curves of her hips to whisper invisible patterns against her skin.
"Severus . . ." She said his name as if it were honey on her tongue. Almost a caress, almost tangible, almost enough to feel. "Please . . ." Heat spiraled down his spine and shot through his body at the simple plea, kindling the sweet ache that burned at the pit of his stomach.
Half-formed thoughts formed in his brain, only to vanish as her hands found his and guided them to where she wished to be touched. Her trust in him was intoxicating and exhilarating; the knowledge that she was willing to be subject to his ministrations was heady and so beautiful that it moved him. She clung to him as if he was all that mattered. The complete surrender of her being was elating, setting his senses aflame. . . .
She shifted underneath him, and suddenly, he was enfolded in molten warmth. She cried out his name, whimpering it as a litany, pleading. . . . He obliged, succumbing to the light, finding bliss as their bodies melded as one. . . .
Severus Snape gasped as his throat constricted. With what sentiment, he knew not, but it was so strong that it woke him from his slumber. Perhaps it was from lack of air, but he somehow doubted that as he tried to grasp the fragments of the dream he had before they floated away. He remembered the woman, her voice, her body. . . .
He turned over in bed and buried his head in his pillow.
Not again, he thought crossly, his presence of mind returning to him. I know I've had this dream before.
He glanced out the window. The sky was still dark, and his assumption was that it was about one o' clock in the morning. Sunrise would not come until later.
Snape threw an arm over his head. He still couldn't tell who the girl was.
It looked like he was in for another sleepless night.
"—And so, I'm going to be working on the Aevum later in the Potions classroom."
Ron stared at Hermione dubiously. "This gets weirder every minute."
They sat together by the hearth in the common room, keeping their backs to the fire. Hermione had just told them about her last encounter with Snape before she had gone to sleep. Neither of them seemed willing to believe it.
"He actually offered the dungeons," Ron repeated for the nth time during their conversation that morning.
"Yes, yes," Hermione sighed. "But he didn't exactly offer it nicely, Ron. He actually insulted me, and then told me to use the classroom. Call it a precautionary measure on his part."
"I'm surprised that he didn't keep my cloak," Harry said, running a hand through his jet-black hair in agitation. "That's a very . . . Snape thing to do, keeping something valuable of mine." He paused. "And my father's," he added.
"I think that he was disgusted with it," Hermione put in with a smile, eliciting a laugh from Ron.
"Typical," Ron shrugged.
"He makes my dad sound so evil," Harry frowned.
"Well, you heard the circumstances," Hermione chided mildly. "Sirius played a prank on him, and your dad saved him. It puts them in a very odd situation, you see? It's natural to think that James was only saving his own hide, since the practical joke was very dangerous, and it would cause a lot of house points, even expulsion on the Marauders' part if ever it was discovered."
"I believe that my dad had good intentions," Harry insisted.
"He probably did," she agreed thoughtfully. "And I think that Professor Snape just has a case of sour grapes."
"Sour grapes?" Ron retorted bemusedly.
"It's a muggle figure of speech, from Aesop's fables," Harry explained. At Ron's vacant look, he sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."
"Alright then," Ron said, scratching his head. "Anyway . . ." He turned to Hermione. "Defending Snape now, are you?" He arched a coppery eyebrow. "Something's not right. . . ."
"I'm going to be spending a lot of time with him now," Hermione said briskly. "I might as well get used to him. I'm not defending him; I'm evaluating his personality."
"Of course, we'll keep you company—" Harry offered hastily.
"You don't have to," she interrupted. "Look, I worked on the Polyjuice Potion myself; I can do this alone as well." She sighed and lowered her voice as she spoke, noting that Harry and Ron had exchanged another one of their secret glances that even she couldn't interpret. "All you have to do, Ron, is accompany me to Moonshine Tavern."
"Wait—" Harry started.
"And no, you are not coming along." Hermione cut him off as soon as he had gotten the first word out. "People will know you. You can't risk it—not there."
He exhaled in defeat. "You're right," he admitted.
"Good," Hermione said contentedly.
"Right," Ron piped up. "Now that we've settled on our roles, shall we get breakfast?"
The great hall was just coming to life when they stepped in. The golden rays of sunlight were slowly creeping into the hallways, illuminating the castle in glistening brightness. A few people milled about, either chatting with their friends or eating breakfast.
To their surprise, Snape was seated at the teacher's table. He seemed to be eating a bowl of oatmeal as he read the newspaper.
"Well, he's up early today," Ron muttered. "Why is it that we run into him everywhere we go? It suddenly seems as if the castle's too small."
"I can't understand why you hate him so much," Hermione scoffed. "Harry has a lot more reasons to hate him, and you don't hear him griping."
Harry glanced at them both. "I don't gripe because I choose not to," he told them. "Besides, he hasn't been bothering me lately. . . . In fact, it's Hermione who he seems to have taken a new interest in torturing."
"Don't start with me," Hermione warned seriously, although her eyes glittered with mirth.
"Maybe he's waiting for her," Ron suggested. "You know, for the potion."
"Ironically enough, I was planning to search for him after we ate breakfast," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "But I left my things in my room. I'll go fetch them later."
They sat down at the Gryffindor table to eat, but soon the mail arrived. Hermione took her issue of the Daily Prophet and held it up as she munched on her cereal. Her eyes grew wide as she read the first article.
" 'Thefts occur in Knockturn Alley, Black suspected'?" she repeated incredulously.
Harry and Ron looked to her in surprise. She spread out the paper on the table, and the three of them hunched over it as they read the article.
"A number of shops were broken into this morning, and several valuable items were stolen, most of them potion items." Ron ran his finger over the page, his eyes darting to and fro as he read the column. "They think that Sirius Black did it, because in one of the shops, a scrap of cloth was hanging by the door, and the Ministry of Magic have identified it as his by means of several spells."
Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "Sirius wouldn't do this," he muttered.
"He must have been framed," Hermione murmured to herself as she stared into space, obviously deep in thought. "To us, it must be obvious that it's a setup, but to the others who don't know, they'd think that all the 'signs' all point to Sirius."
"No wonder Snape was reading the paper today," Ron piped up. "It had something to do with potions."
Hermione glanced at the Professor. He was no longer reading the newspaper and had continued eating.
Suddenly, an idea came to her.
"I don't know if this already occurred to you guys," she whispered, drawing Ron and Harry closer, "but I think that Sirius was framed by none other than the Death Eaters."
"Lucius Malfoy and his gang of filth?" Ron hissed in return. "What's in it for them?"
"That's what I'm going to find out," Hermione said. "Now, eat and act normal; we're drawing attention."
Sure enough, several students were looking at them, so they loaded food into their plates and partook of their breakfast.
Snape read the article in silence, the gears of his mind starting to turn as he mulled the information.
What do they think they're doing? he thought darkly as he reread the news. Lucius has lost his touch; he's no longer as discreet as he used to be in his youth.
Unless he plans to be obvious.
His lips flattened into a thin line. And I'm not as slippery as I used to be. We're all growing old.
As he was scanning the article for the third time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione strode into the great hall. They all appeared to be surprised to see him there. He watched them from the corner of his eye as he pretended to read and down his gruel. They sat down and began to eat, but soon, the mail arrived. As he had anticipated, they reacted to the headline.
So, it is true. It's Sirius Black they're concerned about. Snape frowned contemptuously. He remembered the Shrieking Shack, and how all three of them had attacked him in defense of Black. His cheek twitched.
Why do I have to be involved in this? he asked himself balefully. He didn't think that Black would be grateful to him after they had helped anyhow. If only Dumbledore hadn't asked him to assist Hermione. . . .
He scowled. Blasted girl.
"I'll just grab the ingredients," Hermione said as she took the first step leading to the girls' dormitories. "Then I'll meet you two here. I can't believe you want to accompany me to the dungeons."
"You never know," Harry said seriously. "Malfoy might spring at you in shady corners." His emerald green eyes shone with amusement.
"We'll act as your bodyguards," Ron added, his face as straight as Harry's.
"Right." Hermione rushed up the staircase.
It's good to see that they can still have a few laughs, she thought as she reached her bedroom. Even if the situation isn't exactly pleasant.
She took the spell book, the pouches of potion components, quills, an inkbottle, and her notebook. After stuffing them all into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and ran back down. Harry and Ron were talking to Ginny and the Weasley twins.
"Off to the library again, Hermione?" Ginny asked with a smile.
"Definitely. A ton of books to return." Hermione held up her bag.
"Really, Hermione, there's more to life than books," Fred said seriously. Behind him, Neville stared suspiciously at a tart the twins had given him.
"Like having fun," George suggested mildly.
"It's useless to argue with you two," Hermione shrugged good-naturedly.
"Right on!" they chorused.
"Come, let's go to the library," Ron said, dragging Harry and Hermione off.
They strode through the corridors quickly, trying their best not to look too secretive. When they had reached the dungeons, Snape just happened to be stepping in as well.
"Professor!" Hermione called out. His eyes rested upon her for a moment, then went to Ron and Harry. His face expressionless, he gestured to the classroom, where a large cauldron was already set, and several glass vials were laid out for samples.
"I'll see you two later at lunch," she told Harry and Ron. "Unless I'm not done by then."
"We'll drop by," Harry assured her.
"Okay." She nodded firmly and stepped past the threshold.
Snape shut the doors behind her, and Harry and Ron exchanged looks again.
"I assume you brought the things you took from my stores?" Snape drawled as he sat behind his desk and stared at her until she almost lost her nerve.
She nodded wordlessly and emptied her bag. She opened the book to the marked page and prepared to brew the potion, channeling her thoughts so that she could concentrate.
Right. I can do this. She lit the fire and took the vial of dragon's blood. It sizzled with the contact as she poured it into the cauldron. When the thick liquid had pooled on the bottom, she dropped the sage in. As expected, it exploded slightly, causing Hermione to jump back in surprise, even as she knew that something of the sort was going to happen. She breathed in relief when the mixture settled again.
Feeling self-conscious as Snape watched her, Hermione continued to add the ingredients and stir until the cauldron had filled halfway. Occasionally, Snape would interrupt her to fix what she was doing, but more often than not, he left her alone. When she added the flaxseed, the potion's bubbling had been reduced to a slow simmer.
"Thank goodness," she murmured, sinking into the chair next to her. The potion was not finished, by all means, but she was partly done. Just a few more days, and she would finally be able to add the jimsonweed and the powdered bezoar.
"Very good, Miss Granger," came the silken praise.
Hermione looked up at him tiredly. "Thank you, Professor," she said with a tiny smile.
"You managed to brew an immensely complex potion without turning it into a poison," he said as he swept over to her. He peered at the dark crimson substance, which just so happened to be the color of dried blood.
"It's supposed to look like that?" she questioned hesitantly.
Snape eyed her for a moment. "Yes," he nodded tersely. "Very ominous. Did you know that this potion was banned?"
"I read a bit about it, sir," she said.
"What did your book say?" He was talking to her, but his eyes were trained on the wall, as if he were pondering something.
"It was prohibited during the rise of the Dark Lord because it was used in large doses to kill Aurors," she recited without having to think.
Aurors. She inhaled sharply and glanced at the Potions master in sudden apprehension. He was a Death Eater, after all. . . . She hoped that she didn't call to mind anything too macabre.
That's doubtful. She cursed herself mentally for her slip of the tongue.
To cover her mistake, she pretended to leaf through her book until she found some relevant information regarding the Aevum and its uses. "Well, it says here that the victims of the Aevum could still be cured with a counter-potion," she murmured as if reciting to herself, although she meant to speak aloud as a balm of some sort to the memories she might have caused him to remember.
Unless they're dead already, a tiny voice in her head added.
"Half of the Ministry didn't know how to brew that potion," Snape said softly. Hermione glanced up at him uncertainly as she covered the cauldron, wondering if he was addressing her or just simply talking to himself.
Deciding that it was probably the latter, Hermione occupied herself with taking down notes on the progress of the Aevum and jotting down information from the book that might be of use to her.
Snape watched the young woman as she brewed the potion. She was clearly ill at ease, no doubt because of his presence. But heedless of that, she did her work neatly and efficiently. She obviously knew what she was doing, and her hours of research proved their usefulness when she substituted some ingredients in tempering the potion to her liking without altering the effect.
"Miss Granger," he interrupted when she was about to add the stewed mandrake. She looked up at him, her hand wavering slightly above the cauldron. "I suggest adding the sprig of mint before that."
"Oh." Hermione nodded, murmuring words like "potency," "effectiveness" and "reversibility."
He observed her as she regained her concentration. Once again, her movements became fluid and precise, while the light behind her eyes deepened as she brewed the potion.
Snape kept an eye on her exacting motions as she stirred the mixture. He found that his eyes strayed to her hands—slender and delicate, pale and seemingly fragile. Yet she worked adeptly with them. He wondered if he had noticed them before because he rather felt that he had; he was just unsure when he had, if ever he had in the first place.
Odd thoughts to be having about a student, he told himself somewhat tetchily.
"It's supposed to look like that?" Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned towards her, and she was eyeing the potion uncertainly as it simmered in the cauldron.
Dried blood. "Yes," he replied as déjà vu struck him again. "Very ominous. Did you know that this potion was banned?" he asked absently.
"It was prohibited during the rise of the Dark Lord because it was used in large doses to kill Aurors." He noticed that Hermione recited the bit of information without even having to stop to wrack her brain. This caused her a point the list of people he grudgingly admired.
That's right. Several scenes flooded his vision. Vaguely, he could hear her saying, "cured with a counter-potion. . . ."
Half of the Ministry didn't know how to brew that potion. He was certain that he had only said it within his mind, but he found that it came out of his lips as well. He saw that the last remark had caused her some discomfiture, and he recalled that she knew that he was a former Death Eater.
The Aevum was the last thing I had to do with the Death Eaters, he told himself as he called the scene to mind.
"Severus," Lucius Malfoy said by way of greeting as he entered Snape's workplace. The man slipped off his cloak and hung it on a stand, his behavior seemingly normal, although Snape knew otherwise.
"What is it now?" Snape demanded. He had a few books and scrolls spread out before him, and he hastily feigned an interest in something he had come across, so as to mask his vexation at the other man's arrival.
"Ill-tempered, as always," Lucius chastised smoothly. He strode to Snape's desk and took a seat before it.
"I don't think that you've come for a chat," Snape replied coldly, almost failing to mask his distaste towards his fellow Death Eater. "What do you want?"
Lucius sighed and toyed with the hem of his sleeve idly. "We're running out of ways to kill Aurors. The Imperius Curse still has its novelty and its usefulness, as well as Cruciatus, but we find that they no longer suit our purposes." He brushed an invisible piece of lint from his robe and fixed a steady eye on Snape. "Besides, you know that the Ministry has ways of scanning the minds of the dead Aurors they happen to come across. Even if the Cruciatus manages to distort memories, it only takes effect on the memories before the curse, not after it.
"What I'm saying is that we need another method that not just kills, but wipes out memories completely." Lucius leaned forward now, and Snape fought the urge to recoil from him. "I know that you know a way, Severus. I am certain you are capable of brewing the Aevum."
"The Aevum isn't particularly dangerous," Snape replied, keeping his voice level as he stoically fended the request.
"Unless taken in large amounts." Lucius now had that cajoling smoothness infused into his voice, which obviously meant that he was trying to earn a favor. "It's even a kinder death, Severus." Snape resisted the urge to scoff. As if Lucius Malfoy ever had others' best interests at heart. "Their old age causes their memories to dissolve. Come, now. They die a painless death."
"I'm not brewing the Aevum." Snape negated firmly. "I find that the Cruciatus works perfectly for me." Besides, he thought, Imperio always allows them to pretend they're in pain.
"But I'm not asking you," Lucius said. He had one of his nasty smiles on his face that slightly unnerved Snape. "I'm telling you that you should brew it. Under the Dark Lord's request."
"Since when has He made 'requests'?" Snape sneered, by way of whistling in the dark.
"All the more reason for you to oblige this one," the other replied. He stood up and made his way to the door, pausing to take his cloak.
"I'll take the finished potion from you five days from now," he said as he fastened the clasps of his overcoat. "By the way, cozy little cottage you have here in Hogsmeade. I expect you'd want to keep it in tact?"
Snape watched with growing dejection as Lucius slipped into the night. Interesting threat he made there.
Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose as a particularly sharp pang of his headache struck. Hermione glanced up from her work as he leaned on the desk for support.
"Are you alright, Professor?" she ventured haltingly.
"Quite fine, Miss Granger," he snapped, a bit more edgily than he would have intended.
The silence stretched on, the only noise in the room the scratching of Hermione's quill. Snape sighed as he rubbed his forehead vigorously.
"Please . . ."
He started.
"Severus . . ."
Snape glanced at Hermione rather uneasily. She was preoccupied with her notes and thoughts. It obviously wasn't her. . . .
A flash of fire.
He stumbled slightly as the force of the vision slammed into him, his knees almost giving way beneath his weight. He gripped the edge of his desk to keep his balance. It seemed as if his dreams were occuring outside of his sleep. He choked as his lungs clenched painfully, and almost went headfirst into his worktable. A few of his papers fluttered to the floor, their quiet fall disrupted by the shattering of an inkbottle.
"Professor Snape!"
Hermione was instantly beside him. She helped him to sit on his chair, and upon making sure that he was secure, she started working on a remedy.
She seemed to know what his problem was. She ran to his stores and took a few items. Snape barely paid attention to what she was doing; all he could see was a flurry of movements as she concocted a potion. It was done in less than half an hour, and she ran to him with a goblet the moment she was able to lower the boil to a simmer.
From behind glazed eyes, he could see and feel her tip his head back and pour the potion into his mouth. He swallowed it by reflex. Slowly, his eyesight began to clear. First, he made out Hermione's Gryffindor prefect badge against her robes, then her golden brown hair, and finally her worried expression.
"A healing potion—" he rasped. "Sanatio. . . Phoenix tears—empty vial?"
Hermione seemed bothered by his slight incoherence, but it appeared as if she understood what he meant.
"No, I didn't finish your stock, Professor," Hermione told him in her most soothing voice. She looked rather awkward, though, at least to what he could discern.
"I think we should call Madam Pomfrey. . . ." She sprinted to the doors.
"No—" he protested feebly, but she was gone before he was able to complete his sentence.
Just as soon as his vision seemed to have cleared itself, it dimmed, and he felt the tug of sleep beckon to him.
Hermione ran down the hallway as fast as she could, her robes whipping behind her.
She was already doubtful of Professor Snape's headaches. Headache, rather. It didn't look like it stopped. Unless he was fatally sick (she cringed at the thought), it appeared that his headache was caused by a magical affliction.
She skidded to a stop upon reaching the staircase leading to the hospital wing. She burst through the door, startling a few younger students and the Mediwitch herself.
"Madam Pomfrey—" Hermione panted as she struggled for breath. "Professor Snape—headache—"
The Mediwitch was ready to go to the Potions master quicker than Hermione had anticipated. They hurried back to the dungeons. Snape was still on his chair, but he was slumped forward and sprawled halfway across his desk. He was asleep.
"Did you give him anything?" Madam Pomfrey asked Hermione as she checked his pulse and prodded him with her wand.
"Only the Sanatio," Hermione replied, hovering behind the nurse.
"Good. . . ." the woman muttered distractedly. "At least you gave him both a healing potion and a sedating potion. . . . He'll sleep and recover, hopefully. . . ." She mumbled a few more things, then conjured a stretcher and used her wand to put him on it.
After talking to Hermione about how the Potions master had come to be at such a state, Madam Pomfrey cast a charm to make the stretcher float, and she headed back towards the hospital wing with the unconscious professor in tow.
Hermione watched them round a bend with a mixture of concern, discountenance, and quite a bit of curiosity. Perhaps on another day, she'd ask him a few more questions about his condition.
-----
A/N: Essence of life = something like chi, I guess.
I saw a cute Snape button that says: "Why am I like a cauldron? Because Snape lights my fire!" :) Just sharing.
I made Harry, Ron, and Hermione react with surprise to Snape's appearance during breakfast because I pictured him as the type to eat in his dungeons.
I am inspired by Jane Austen. I just reread Sense and Sensibility today (Oh, for the love of Colonel Brandon), and now I'm thinking of some sort of old-fashioned Hogwarts scene.
I don't know where I got the term "Mediwitch." (Is that canon? I don't think so.) To whomever that came from: my thanks for providing me with a term for Madam Pomfrey.
Comments would be nice. . . . Feed my greedy soul.