Stolen Child
Chapter 14
Blood Roses
Following Professor Snape, having to jog to keep up with his brisk pace, Hermione was surprised, and yet not, to find him leading her into the dungeons. True, it was unexpected that her room was so close to his classroom, but the location was not, however, out of character for him. 'He certainly belongs in the damned dungeons', Hermione thought bitterly, her mind going back to replay the scenes of the past day and his sudden aloof attitude towards her.
Snape haphazardly slung open the door to the potions classroom, swept across the room, and elegantly took a seat at his desk, motioning for her to sit as well, though she had had barely stepped inside, carefully shutting the door behind her. Slowly, her eyes on the numerous unusual objects on display, she made her way across to his desk and took the offered seat, folding her arms across her chest, eyeing jars filled with unrecognizable ingredients, some of which looked suspiciously like animal parts .
He regarded her briefly, watched her eyes scan over the room, noted her severe clothing and hair, but pushed aside the concern that had begun to creep across his thoughts and instead began in his most remote tone of voice, which he normally reserved for those he disliked the most. "I believe that when we left off last time, Ms. Granger, it had been your go." He made a motion, signaling for her to begin.
Hermione was momentarily stunned, having figured that they'd either take a moment to warm up first, or simply sit in silence for a quarter of an hour as they had done before. And so it took her several moments to finally settle on a question. "Alright then, tell me, Professor Snape, how did you happen upon my journal?" She had of course been curious about this since he had handed it to her, but too grateful to argue.
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched, just a few minutes into their meeting and already he was becoming impatient. "Your parent's never retrieved it, insisting that we keep it along with your personal effects here at Hogwarts, in case you decided to come back." He took only a moment to pause and take a breath, and so Hermione had no chance to respond. "Now, Ms. Granger, tell me, How much to you remember about the Fairy realm?"
Her mouth opened, and she almost told him to bugger off again, but she wasn't about to ruin her chance to get some answers, and so through gritted teeth and a forced grin she answered. "Most of it is a haze, I only clearly remember the final day, when I escaped, and I have general ideas about the rest of the time, like a mental summary." She paused for only a moment, and decided to take a page from his book, " While we're on the subject, can you tell me how I ended up in the Fairy realm in the first place? That is, of course, if you know."
Scoffing, Snape narrowed his eyes. "Of course I know, silly girl. It was a boy in your class named Draco Malfoy. He pushed you during a care of magical creatures class, not realizing that you would fall, but of course, you did. He was expelled, his wand broken, and oddly enough I believe he now volunteers at the Department of Charity and Outreach in the ministry of magic..now back to you. What do you remember about your absence?" He could barely keep himself from cringing at the look he received in return.
In a state of shock, her mouth hanging open, Hermione did not reply. A fellow student had pushed her in. Had taken away her childhood, ruined her, and offered her to the Faey. Her cheeks became flushed with anger, tears of fury welling up in her eyes, fury that she immediately directed at Snape. And yet somehow she remained in control, and took a long, deep, cleansing breath, her eyes closed. When they opened again, the storm had cleared, and in a tone that would have made a lesser man wet himself, she replied. "I remember that I was taken, Apparently I was a gift to a man and woman, they were faey, but human sized, perhaps even a bit taller, like Titania and Oberon from Shakespeare. They were rich, and powerful, their house was large." She stopped, hoping that it was enough, but the look on Snape's face told her that it wasn't." I was a.servant." Hermione's voice shook and she looked away from him, color rising into her cheeks. "And an entertainer. And a." swallowing hard to fight back the lump in her throat, and the indignation swelling within her as she continued to look away. "A pet." While she spoke, streams of images flooded through her mind, sparse memories strung together like mismatched beads on a delicate thread, and though it was extremely brief, everything came together, and she ducked her head, burying her face to keep from drowning in the sudden shame and sorrow.
A strange feeling washed over Snape as he realized what Hermione was implying, and things began to click into place. Her fear, agitation, newly acquired shyness, as well as her unclothed state when he found her, suddenly everything aligned and his mind reeled with the suddenness of it. They had stripped the Hermione that he had known and taught away, took her innocence and the stubborn fire that had always burned within her dark eyes. Absently he reached into the drawer of his desk, his hand trembling, and pulled out his flask, and took a long, slow drink from it. The warmth of the drink flowed through him and he closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. When he had finished he set the flask aside and opened his eyes. Hermione had her face buried against her knees. He paused briefly, and then against his better judgement, scooted the flask across the desk.
She looked up hesitantly, her face soaked with tears, her whole body quavering, but when she noticed the flask, Hermione almost managed a smile. Reaching out, she took the offered flask, and with a grimace downed a large shot of the whiskey, then set the container back on the desk and closed her eyes. It didn't take long before the warmth filled her belly and then spread outward, soothing every emotional ache and pain. Tears of relief began to stream down her face and she sighed. "Thank you sir."
Snape simply nodded and pulled the flask back towards himself, and took another swig, then slid it back across the table to Hermione, who mirrored his actions. They traded shots back and for until each had partaken of four, and he could feel himself starting to become a bit off, and decided it was time to put away the flask, since he doubted her tolerance could be even remotely as high as his.
Looking across the desk at her former professor, Hermione decided to break the silence before it became too comfortable, and one of them ending up drifting off to sleep. "Professor Snape, it seems like I do this a lot.but I'd like to apologize."
"For?" He cocked his eyebrow, his voice completely devoid of its usual sinister tone.
"I'm not sure." A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. It was quite a while before she could bring herself to continue. "I mean, I don't know what I did, but I get the distinct feeling that you're angry with me."
Professor Snape suddenly felt as though he was backed into a corner. He couldn't think of a single way to answer her and save face. In the end he decided that there was only once course of action. "No, I was angry with a student. Well, many students, actually." It was of course, a lie, something that he despised doing, but why would he want to burden her with his troubles?
"Ah." Nodding, she smiled, looking relieved. "I'm glad." They were both silent for a long while after she spoke, both basking in the glow of the fire whiskey. Hermione lay her back against her chair, and closed her eyes. She took in a long, deep breath, taking in the unusual scent of the potion's classroom. Mostly it was unpleasant, dank moldiness mixed with the smell that the contents in the jars put off any time the lid was lifted, but mixed in she caught his scent as well, spicy, manly, and overpowering to her senses. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, hoping he didn't notice, though she really wouldn't have minded if he did..
Watching her intently, Snape couldn't help but study her once again, now that he had the opportunity. Her graceful, curving, swan like neck, the defined line of her delicate jaw. His eyes scanned back down her throat to the hollow at its base, and her soft, exposed shoulders. What he wouldn't give to be able to touch her, even if it was completely chaste. He hadn't felt the warmth of another human beneath his hands for longer than he could remember; but of course, Snape reminded himself, she would never allow him to touch her so intimately, not now, and especially when her memories came back and she remembered how awful he had been to here when she had been his student. Soon he would become no more than a greasy git once again. Sighing deeply, he stood from his chair. "It is late, Ms. Granger. Perhaps you should retire to your quarters."
Hermione jerked slightly as she was pulled from her thoughts, and slowly stood, teetering a bit. "Yes, I-I agree. Good night, Professor Snape, thank you for the drink, fixed me right up." She made it halfway across the classroom and then paused, looking down at the table to her left, her brow furrowed. A moment later she started towards the door again, and tripped over her feet as she reached it, grabbing onto the door handle for support.
As he watched her departure intently, Snape was simply astounded when she stopped next to her old table to stare at it for a moment before continuing on her way. When she tripped, though, he crossed the room, all other thoughts vanishing. "Perhaps you could use a hand, Ms. Granger?" He offered her his arm, his mind screaming for him to stop, surely she would scoff, and curl her lip in disgust. A horrible, greasy monster such as himself offering her his arm, it was almost enough to make him laugh.
She nodded and with a silly smile, wrapped her arm around his and grasped his hand in hers, her heart suddenly began hammering furiously against her breast as she felt his warm skin beneath her fingers for the first time. It was calloused from decades of hard work, and she could feel raised scars where he had probably sliced his fingers while chopping herbs dozens of times over the years.
Snape gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his self control, and consciously tried to slow the adrenaline now pulsing through his veins. He took her small, warm, baby soft hand into his large, long fingered, knobby jointed and scarred one, her arm linked around his, and followed her lead out the door. He was taken aback when she turned to go deeper into the dungeons, though, and almost corrected her until she stopped and opened the third door down from his.
The room was glowing warmly, both from the roaring fire in the fireplace, and also from the moonlight streaming in through the large bay windows. Snape had to admit that it was indeed a lovely room, far more cozy than his.
Reluctantly, Hermione slid her hand from his, running her fingers over his palm in the process. Stepping away, she turned to face him, and though his expression was as unapproachable as ever, she could tell that something had shifted. "Good night, sir."
When she slid her hand from his, her delicate fingers tracing his palm, Snape had fought desperately to keep control. The only thing that betrayed him were the goose bumps under his sleeves, and thankfully they were not visible to the young woman before him. "Good night, Ms. Granger."
"Thank you for walking me to my room, I doubt I would have made it otherwise." She laughed and then stepped forward a bit.
Alarmed, he began to step back, but was too late as she reached up, put her hands upon his wiry shoulders, and kissed him very lightly on the cheek, just an inch from the corner of his mouth. She backed away quickly, and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow." Then slowly shut the door before Snape had even had time to recover, let alone comment.
The walk back to his quarters and his preparation for bed were a blur of automatic motions. At last he slid beneath his sheets and snuffed his candles with a wave of his wand. The chill bumps she had caused still lingered all over his body, and the place on his cheek where she had kissed him still buzzed with excitement, but Snape's mind was spiraling down into blackness and doubt. She only did it because he had gotten her drunk. She only did it as a joke, and tomorrow the entire staff would snicker behind his back. When she found out what he had been like, she'd vomit when she remembered the kiss. Bitterly he closed his eyes tightly.
As soon as she shut her door, Hermione's face split into a wide smile, and a fierce joy welled up within her, though tainted with embarrassment and trepidation, what had Snape thought about her actions? Did he think she was a drunken whore? Of course, even if he was angry, he couldn't be for long. It had been a completely chaste kiss, at least on the outside, inside Hermione was, to put it lightly, aflame. Leaning against her door she tasted her lips experimentally and was delighted that there seemed to be a hint of his taste there. It was a long, long time before Ms. Granger finally slid between her velvety bed clothes and longer still before she slept.
Snape drifted off to sleep quickly, but his dreams were filled with mocking laughter, and images of Hermione turning him upside down with her wand so his robes would fall over his head and reveal his skinny legs and graying underwear, though now he preferred simple black boxer briefs. Then she would grow a long white beard and hair, and then he/she would continue to hold him in the air, laughing with the staff of Hogwarts, pointing and laughing and calling him a traitor.
Just three doors down from him Hermione's dreams, on the other hand, were for the most part filled with visions of him. He would smile, then run his calloused fingers over her jaw line, and through her hair, and they would share tentative kisses and shy touches. Later in the night, though, just a few hours before dawn, she found herself sitting in a chair at the table she had stopped at in the classroom. Professor Snape would be standing in the front of the class, which consisted only of her, and he would be lecturing about morality, how girls who had sex were filthy, and girls who caused the death of friends were wicked and cursed.
Dawn found them both tangled in their blankets, laying wide awake, one staring at the ceiling, the other staring out of her large bay windows.
*~~~~*~~~~*
Blood Roses
Tori Amos
Blood Roses
Blood Roses
Back on the street now
can't forget the things you never said
on days like these gets me thinking
when chickens get a taste of your meat
chickens get a taste of your meat
you gave him your blood
and your warm little diamond
he likes killing you after you're dead
you think I'm a queer
I think you're a queer
I think you're a queer
Said I think you're a queer
and I shaved every place where you been
God knows I know I've thrown away those graces
the Belle of New Orleans tried to show me
once how to tango
wrapped around your feet
wrapped around like good little roses
Blood Roses
Blood Roses
back on the street now
now you've cut out the flute
from the throat of the loon
at least when you cry now
he can't even hear you
when chickens get a taste of your meat
when he sucks you deep
sometimes you're nothing but meat
*~~~~~*~~~~~~*
Notes: ok! *breaks out her fan* things getting a little hotter around here *LMAO* And ok, Ron and Harry will be informed in the following chapter, whether Hermione likes it or not, but it will be a few chapters before they come in, since it'll take an owl a while to get to Canada *L*. Even after they come in, I must forewarn anyone who's interested in them, they're not going to play much of a part, though they will have one *L*.
Jazzylady: Thank you! And soon! ^_^ I'm willing to wager they'll be more than just a little shocked.and imagine how guilty they've felt for all these years *L*
Sweetygirl420: yup, they'll be around, but since I'm keeping the focus on Hermione and Snape, they won't be too influential (
Someone28: NP! Thanks for reading! ^_^
Black Rose: *BLUSH*!! Thank you so much! And don't worry, I will! Thank you for reading!
Chapter 14
Blood Roses
Following Professor Snape, having to jog to keep up with his brisk pace, Hermione was surprised, and yet not, to find him leading her into the dungeons. True, it was unexpected that her room was so close to his classroom, but the location was not, however, out of character for him. 'He certainly belongs in the damned dungeons', Hermione thought bitterly, her mind going back to replay the scenes of the past day and his sudden aloof attitude towards her.
Snape haphazardly slung open the door to the potions classroom, swept across the room, and elegantly took a seat at his desk, motioning for her to sit as well, though she had had barely stepped inside, carefully shutting the door behind her. Slowly, her eyes on the numerous unusual objects on display, she made her way across to his desk and took the offered seat, folding her arms across her chest, eyeing jars filled with unrecognizable ingredients, some of which looked suspiciously like animal parts .
He regarded her briefly, watched her eyes scan over the room, noted her severe clothing and hair, but pushed aside the concern that had begun to creep across his thoughts and instead began in his most remote tone of voice, which he normally reserved for those he disliked the most. "I believe that when we left off last time, Ms. Granger, it had been your go." He made a motion, signaling for her to begin.
Hermione was momentarily stunned, having figured that they'd either take a moment to warm up first, or simply sit in silence for a quarter of an hour as they had done before. And so it took her several moments to finally settle on a question. "Alright then, tell me, Professor Snape, how did you happen upon my journal?" She had of course been curious about this since he had handed it to her, but too grateful to argue.
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched, just a few minutes into their meeting and already he was becoming impatient. "Your parent's never retrieved it, insisting that we keep it along with your personal effects here at Hogwarts, in case you decided to come back." He took only a moment to pause and take a breath, and so Hermione had no chance to respond. "Now, Ms. Granger, tell me, How much to you remember about the Fairy realm?"
Her mouth opened, and she almost told him to bugger off again, but she wasn't about to ruin her chance to get some answers, and so through gritted teeth and a forced grin she answered. "Most of it is a haze, I only clearly remember the final day, when I escaped, and I have general ideas about the rest of the time, like a mental summary." She paused for only a moment, and decided to take a page from his book, " While we're on the subject, can you tell me how I ended up in the Fairy realm in the first place? That is, of course, if you know."
Scoffing, Snape narrowed his eyes. "Of course I know, silly girl. It was a boy in your class named Draco Malfoy. He pushed you during a care of magical creatures class, not realizing that you would fall, but of course, you did. He was expelled, his wand broken, and oddly enough I believe he now volunteers at the Department of Charity and Outreach in the ministry of magic..now back to you. What do you remember about your absence?" He could barely keep himself from cringing at the look he received in return.
In a state of shock, her mouth hanging open, Hermione did not reply. A fellow student had pushed her in. Had taken away her childhood, ruined her, and offered her to the Faey. Her cheeks became flushed with anger, tears of fury welling up in her eyes, fury that she immediately directed at Snape. And yet somehow she remained in control, and took a long, deep, cleansing breath, her eyes closed. When they opened again, the storm had cleared, and in a tone that would have made a lesser man wet himself, she replied. "I remember that I was taken, Apparently I was a gift to a man and woman, they were faey, but human sized, perhaps even a bit taller, like Titania and Oberon from Shakespeare. They were rich, and powerful, their house was large." She stopped, hoping that it was enough, but the look on Snape's face told her that it wasn't." I was a.servant." Hermione's voice shook and she looked away from him, color rising into her cheeks. "And an entertainer. And a." swallowing hard to fight back the lump in her throat, and the indignation swelling within her as she continued to look away. "A pet." While she spoke, streams of images flooded through her mind, sparse memories strung together like mismatched beads on a delicate thread, and though it was extremely brief, everything came together, and she ducked her head, burying her face to keep from drowning in the sudden shame and sorrow.
A strange feeling washed over Snape as he realized what Hermione was implying, and things began to click into place. Her fear, agitation, newly acquired shyness, as well as her unclothed state when he found her, suddenly everything aligned and his mind reeled with the suddenness of it. They had stripped the Hermione that he had known and taught away, took her innocence and the stubborn fire that had always burned within her dark eyes. Absently he reached into the drawer of his desk, his hand trembling, and pulled out his flask, and took a long, slow drink from it. The warmth of the drink flowed through him and he closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. When he had finished he set the flask aside and opened his eyes. Hermione had her face buried against her knees. He paused briefly, and then against his better judgement, scooted the flask across the desk.
She looked up hesitantly, her face soaked with tears, her whole body quavering, but when she noticed the flask, Hermione almost managed a smile. Reaching out, she took the offered flask, and with a grimace downed a large shot of the whiskey, then set the container back on the desk and closed her eyes. It didn't take long before the warmth filled her belly and then spread outward, soothing every emotional ache and pain. Tears of relief began to stream down her face and she sighed. "Thank you sir."
Snape simply nodded and pulled the flask back towards himself, and took another swig, then slid it back across the table to Hermione, who mirrored his actions. They traded shots back and for until each had partaken of four, and he could feel himself starting to become a bit off, and decided it was time to put away the flask, since he doubted her tolerance could be even remotely as high as his.
Looking across the desk at her former professor, Hermione decided to break the silence before it became too comfortable, and one of them ending up drifting off to sleep. "Professor Snape, it seems like I do this a lot.but I'd like to apologize."
"For?" He cocked his eyebrow, his voice completely devoid of its usual sinister tone.
"I'm not sure." A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. It was quite a while before she could bring herself to continue. "I mean, I don't know what I did, but I get the distinct feeling that you're angry with me."
Professor Snape suddenly felt as though he was backed into a corner. He couldn't think of a single way to answer her and save face. In the end he decided that there was only once course of action. "No, I was angry with a student. Well, many students, actually." It was of course, a lie, something that he despised doing, but why would he want to burden her with his troubles?
"Ah." Nodding, she smiled, looking relieved. "I'm glad." They were both silent for a long while after she spoke, both basking in the glow of the fire whiskey. Hermione lay her back against her chair, and closed her eyes. She took in a long, deep breath, taking in the unusual scent of the potion's classroom. Mostly it was unpleasant, dank moldiness mixed with the smell that the contents in the jars put off any time the lid was lifted, but mixed in she caught his scent as well, spicy, manly, and overpowering to her senses. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, hoping he didn't notice, though she really wouldn't have minded if he did..
Watching her intently, Snape couldn't help but study her once again, now that he had the opportunity. Her graceful, curving, swan like neck, the defined line of her delicate jaw. His eyes scanned back down her throat to the hollow at its base, and her soft, exposed shoulders. What he wouldn't give to be able to touch her, even if it was completely chaste. He hadn't felt the warmth of another human beneath his hands for longer than he could remember; but of course, Snape reminded himself, she would never allow him to touch her so intimately, not now, and especially when her memories came back and she remembered how awful he had been to here when she had been his student. Soon he would become no more than a greasy git once again. Sighing deeply, he stood from his chair. "It is late, Ms. Granger. Perhaps you should retire to your quarters."
Hermione jerked slightly as she was pulled from her thoughts, and slowly stood, teetering a bit. "Yes, I-I agree. Good night, Professor Snape, thank you for the drink, fixed me right up." She made it halfway across the classroom and then paused, looking down at the table to her left, her brow furrowed. A moment later she started towards the door again, and tripped over her feet as she reached it, grabbing onto the door handle for support.
As he watched her departure intently, Snape was simply astounded when she stopped next to her old table to stare at it for a moment before continuing on her way. When she tripped, though, he crossed the room, all other thoughts vanishing. "Perhaps you could use a hand, Ms. Granger?" He offered her his arm, his mind screaming for him to stop, surely she would scoff, and curl her lip in disgust. A horrible, greasy monster such as himself offering her his arm, it was almost enough to make him laugh.
She nodded and with a silly smile, wrapped her arm around his and grasped his hand in hers, her heart suddenly began hammering furiously against her breast as she felt his warm skin beneath her fingers for the first time. It was calloused from decades of hard work, and she could feel raised scars where he had probably sliced his fingers while chopping herbs dozens of times over the years.
Snape gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his self control, and consciously tried to slow the adrenaline now pulsing through his veins. He took her small, warm, baby soft hand into his large, long fingered, knobby jointed and scarred one, her arm linked around his, and followed her lead out the door. He was taken aback when she turned to go deeper into the dungeons, though, and almost corrected her until she stopped and opened the third door down from his.
The room was glowing warmly, both from the roaring fire in the fireplace, and also from the moonlight streaming in through the large bay windows. Snape had to admit that it was indeed a lovely room, far more cozy than his.
Reluctantly, Hermione slid her hand from his, running her fingers over his palm in the process. Stepping away, she turned to face him, and though his expression was as unapproachable as ever, she could tell that something had shifted. "Good night, sir."
When she slid her hand from his, her delicate fingers tracing his palm, Snape had fought desperately to keep control. The only thing that betrayed him were the goose bumps under his sleeves, and thankfully they were not visible to the young woman before him. "Good night, Ms. Granger."
"Thank you for walking me to my room, I doubt I would have made it otherwise." She laughed and then stepped forward a bit.
Alarmed, he began to step back, but was too late as she reached up, put her hands upon his wiry shoulders, and kissed him very lightly on the cheek, just an inch from the corner of his mouth. She backed away quickly, and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow." Then slowly shut the door before Snape had even had time to recover, let alone comment.
The walk back to his quarters and his preparation for bed were a blur of automatic motions. At last he slid beneath his sheets and snuffed his candles with a wave of his wand. The chill bumps she had caused still lingered all over his body, and the place on his cheek where she had kissed him still buzzed with excitement, but Snape's mind was spiraling down into blackness and doubt. She only did it because he had gotten her drunk. She only did it as a joke, and tomorrow the entire staff would snicker behind his back. When she found out what he had been like, she'd vomit when she remembered the kiss. Bitterly he closed his eyes tightly.
As soon as she shut her door, Hermione's face split into a wide smile, and a fierce joy welled up within her, though tainted with embarrassment and trepidation, what had Snape thought about her actions? Did he think she was a drunken whore? Of course, even if he was angry, he couldn't be for long. It had been a completely chaste kiss, at least on the outside, inside Hermione was, to put it lightly, aflame. Leaning against her door she tasted her lips experimentally and was delighted that there seemed to be a hint of his taste there. It was a long, long time before Ms. Granger finally slid between her velvety bed clothes and longer still before she slept.
Snape drifted off to sleep quickly, but his dreams were filled with mocking laughter, and images of Hermione turning him upside down with her wand so his robes would fall over his head and reveal his skinny legs and graying underwear, though now he preferred simple black boxer briefs. Then she would grow a long white beard and hair, and then he/she would continue to hold him in the air, laughing with the staff of Hogwarts, pointing and laughing and calling him a traitor.
Just three doors down from him Hermione's dreams, on the other hand, were for the most part filled with visions of him. He would smile, then run his calloused fingers over her jaw line, and through her hair, and they would share tentative kisses and shy touches. Later in the night, though, just a few hours before dawn, she found herself sitting in a chair at the table she had stopped at in the classroom. Professor Snape would be standing in the front of the class, which consisted only of her, and he would be lecturing about morality, how girls who had sex were filthy, and girls who caused the death of friends were wicked and cursed.
Dawn found them both tangled in their blankets, laying wide awake, one staring at the ceiling, the other staring out of her large bay windows.
*~~~~*~~~~*
Blood Roses
Tori Amos
Blood Roses
Blood Roses
Back on the street now
can't forget the things you never said
on days like these gets me thinking
when chickens get a taste of your meat
chickens get a taste of your meat
you gave him your blood
and your warm little diamond
he likes killing you after you're dead
you think I'm a queer
I think you're a queer
I think you're a queer
Said I think you're a queer
and I shaved every place where you been
God knows I know I've thrown away those graces
the Belle of New Orleans tried to show me
once how to tango
wrapped around your feet
wrapped around like good little roses
Blood Roses
Blood Roses
back on the street now
now you've cut out the flute
from the throat of the loon
at least when you cry now
he can't even hear you
when chickens get a taste of your meat
when he sucks you deep
sometimes you're nothing but meat
*~~~~~*~~~~~~*
Notes: ok! *breaks out her fan* things getting a little hotter around here *LMAO* And ok, Ron and Harry will be informed in the following chapter, whether Hermione likes it or not, but it will be a few chapters before they come in, since it'll take an owl a while to get to Canada *L*. Even after they come in, I must forewarn anyone who's interested in them, they're not going to play much of a part, though they will have one *L*.
Jazzylady: Thank you! And soon! ^_^ I'm willing to wager they'll be more than just a little shocked.and imagine how guilty they've felt for all these years *L*
Sweetygirl420: yup, they'll be around, but since I'm keeping the focus on Hermione and Snape, they won't be too influential (
Someone28: NP! Thanks for reading! ^_^
Black Rose: *BLUSH*!! Thank you so much! And don't worry, I will! Thank you for reading!