The next morning, Hermione emerged from the bedroom wrapped in the prior night's bed sheet. Severus was dressed in his usual dark robes, occupied by an untitled book. A warm fire crackled in front of him, and an empty teacup hovered delicately to his side. Hermione observed Snape's thin, pale face, studying him for as long as she dared to before clearing her throat in announcement.
He turned at the sound. His expression was indecipherable.
"Miss Granger." His low voice uttered her name as he closed his book. His eyes raked over the bedsheet that obscured her shivering form underneath. As if he had looked directly into the sun, Severus quickly averted his gaze toward the hearth. He swiftly waved a hand in her direction, which sent Hermione's bag of clothing and toiletries traversing across the floor into the bedroom. He did not look back.
Hermione felt slightly perturbed by his informal dismissal. He had reverted back to his cold, withdrawn demeanor by morning, lacking the evocative appetite that she tasted the night before.
Hermione returned to the bedroom to dress and tame her messy hair. There was no comfortable way to address their experience and a dread filled her chest at the idea of attending a conversation that alluded to it.
Hermione pursed her lips and exhaled into the chilled room. She had threatened Snapes life for the chance of regaining her wand. The repercussions of that action were unconceivable. Was his sword-point taunt a genuine solicitation to end his life? Was he so plagued by desolation that death was a welcomed finale? Or did he comb her thoughts like a deck of cards, calling the bluff before she knew it herself? Her fingers worked at a matted knot in her hair.
A thought more sinister than any other arose, one that Hermione quickly pressed below the waves of consciousness before it resurfaced again. The thought tilled deeper into her mind until it disappeared into a vague trickle of shame; Did he find something deep within her mind that yearned for his touch?
Unsure of how long she could hide away from his presence, Hermione mustered the courage to emerge for tea.
He was sitting quietly at the table, eyes boring through her like an awl drilling through soft leather.
Severus observed that she wore a modest fitting sweater with oversized sleeves that she pulled shyly over her wrists. She sported long pants that flowed graciously over the ankles that he had seized the night before –
He stopped the thought.
His summoned black teapot poured her a cup of steaming amber tea. The pot returned to Snape's cup and refilled his in turn.
A minute passed when they watched the steam from their cups diffuse into the dry cottage air. A light pressure of wind pressed against the windows, and a soft click from the wall clock separated measurable time from the aching stillness that grew between them.
Finally, he spoke.
"Reckless courage will never compensate for what you lack in forethought." He spoke evenly. "The next time that that you choose to threaten my life – " He paused to let his heavy voice resonate against the stone walls. " – Then consider it the immediate defense of your own." His voice was laced with a menacing certitude.
Hermione's eyes flicked up to meet his stare in a brief recognition of his warning. She nodded down at her cup.
But Severus was not finished. He stood and stepped softly to where she sat studying her tea. With one arm he twisted her chair around so that her knees almost met his and the scent of his robes filled her lungs as he coolly leaned in.
"I promised the return of your wand at the first sight of Potter."
His voice was sharp and acidic. "I intend to keep my word."
Hermione shifted in her chair as he leaned impossibly closer. His left hand was resting on the table behind her, his right still grasping the back of her chair so that her form was sandwiched between his imposing body and the stiff dinning furniture.
"I also gave assurances that no harm would befall you in my care." His robes were now touching her knees and she could feel the sparks of energy that the touch cast upon her. "An assurance that I also intend to keep." He spat icily.
Swiftly, his right hand dropped to the seat of her chair, and he tipped it back so only two legs of the chair were on the floor. Hermione was jolted at the sudden movement. The tilt of her chair on two legs positioned her face below his, so that he was looking down on her.
"But you, Miss Granger, have also made assurances to me." His cool eyes narrowed. He continued to balance Hermione's chair in his hand, leaning even closer into her space. Hermione was hyper aware that his right hand, which held the rim of her seat, was positioned mere inches from where he tormented her the night before. Her breathing quickened.
"Assurances that I intend for you-" He pushed the back of her chair against the frame of the table so that her neck was arched to see him. "-To. Keep." His voice lulled the final words definitely.
He released the rim of her seat and guided the remaining legs of her chair to the floor with controlled ease. Rattled, Hermione watched him glide back to his end of the table.
Hermione's heart pounded against her chest wall. He had always unnerved her as a student, but she had never seen a side of Severus that demanded her attention so forcefully. It jarred her.
The dark wizard spoke no more on the subject. Together, they ate a wordless breakfast of toast and jam. Severus occupied himself with the Daily Prophet, delivered by the same grey-black owl who visited him their first morning together. Neither of them mentioned the night before.
"Still no sign of Potter." He said aloud after scanning the paper. "The rest is unhinged Ministry propaganda." He tossed the paper into the living room fire.
Hermione pulled her arms together in relief and nodded. No news seemed to be good news at this point. There was nothing for her to say.
His owl perched on the back of an empty chair and looked inquisitively at Hermione. She studied the owl back, wondering what sort of name Snape would give the creature. It ruffled its feathers distrustfully at her. It turned back to Severus in question.
After a moment's consideration, Severus stood again and pocketed the small bag that Hermione had crept into the night before.
"Shall we continue our search?" He addressed Hermione without looking at her.
Hermione responded uncertainly. "I'm ready."
Severus opened the cottage door into the awaiting forest.
"Lenore, come." He commanded the owl by name. The beautiful owl flew from the room into the chilly outside air into the trees above. Hermione followed, watching the owl fly out of sight. He closed the door, and it magically locked behind them.
o~O~o
Hermione followed closely behind Severus as they made their way deep into the Forbidden Forest. The warming spell that he cast over her body enveloped her in a wave of pulsing heat while the concealment charm veiled her from the peering eyes throughout the woods.
Occasionally the man would stop to assess the soil underneath his black leather shoes. At one point, he called Lenore in to mutter directions in her ear, and she would fly ahead to guide their path toward what he deferentially called the caapi vine.
It was a difficult plant to find in winter, he murmured. It would burrow underground only to emerge during the start of spring. Lenore, he reasoned, had a keener eye for these hidden plants and a keen taste for treats as a reward for her work.
"This vine-" Hermione broke a long silence during one of their brief rests. " – Caapi, I mean –" She stumbled. " – It's used in darker potions, is it not?"
Snape turned to Hermione, irritated.
"What's your point, girl?"
Hermione wasn't sure how she expected him to take her question, but she advanced on.
"The book mentioned how a misbrewed Mopsus Potion could elicit horrific visions or dissociative symptoms…" She trailed. She noticed how Severus stiffened at the string of her logic. The lines on his face seemed to deepen when she continued.
"…Are there potions meant to affect a person in this way? As…" She was unsure how to finish but quietly resumed. "…As a torture?"
Snape's irritated demeanor shifted to an indecipherable mask. Hermione noted that the warming charm around her form had immediately lost its pulsing heat and the bite of the forest's wind crept through her sweater. While his expression revealed nothing, a newfound coldness met Hermione at that instant and the weight of what she had alleged had prickled her senses in a foreboding, perturbed way. Her stomach turned.
Snape calculated his reply.
"The Dark Lord's greatest strength does not stem entirely from his magical power." He started quietly. "His strength comes from his ability to bend the mind. He sees one's weakness, he sees one's desires– " Severus inhaled, "And he gains control by manipulating the mind in whatever way the individual is vulnerable." He wordlessly levitated a nearby stone above his open palm.
"For some people, it was torture. The mind will create its own worst fear – which you may have experienced in year three with the boggart." He smirked. Her boggart of McGonagall's failing grade was an embarrassingly common topic of that term.
His smirk disappeared behind another unreadable mask. "Some people are driven by desire. Desire for power. For love-" He looked astutely to Hermine.
" – For knowledge." The levitating stone dropped softly into his palm.
She bit the inside of her lip and shivered.
"The Emerald Potion." Severus said precisely and dropped his eyes to the ground. "The Drink of Despair induces fear, delirium, and extreme thirst to whoever imbibes it." Snape's voice waivered almost imperceptivity. "The caapi vine is the main ingredient."
Hermione's breath hitched at the realization. Snape described in perfect detail the potion that sent Dumbledore to near insanity. It was the potion that sent Harry to the lake of Inferi and led the two of them almost to death.
"The Emerald Potion." She repeated back.
Severus did not respond.
"You brewed it for Him."
Severus still did not answer. Instead, he watched Lenore as she made her way to his side. He gently brushed his finger down the side of her neck.
A minute passed before Severus spoke again. "It was never meant for him."
Hermione knew that he meant Dumbledore.
A second shiver ran down Hermione's spine. This time it wasn't the cold air. With both his warming and concealment charms faded, she realized the extent of her vulnerability in the forest with Snape.
As if the premonition were shared, Severus pulled out his wand and stood tensed.
The usual sound of birds and insects had faded to silence and the air prickled with an ominous sensation. Lenore clicked her beak and took flight from the clearing.
Hermione's eyes darted through the trees. Together they shared an inexplicable sense that they were being observed. Severus recast the concealing charm and muttered an incantation unknown to Hermione that she assumed to be another protective spell.
After a tense minute, Severus relaxed his wand.
"Thestrals." Severus said simply, staring off in the distance.
Hermione followed his gaze to an uncertain spot, shaking her head. "I - I can't."
He nodded in understanding.
Hermione continued to watch him observe what appeared to be imaginary beasts.
The young witch felt uneasy by the approach of the unseen thestrals. From the body language Snape revealed, the beasts were trotting in to investigate the two travelers, wearily stopping to gauge their threat.
Judging from Severus's outstretched hand, she could assume that the herd had made it to their clearing. Severus ran his hand down the neck of a beast and whispered a soothing word to the thestral. Hermione heard a contented snort.
Snape continued to pet the animal with a reverent gentleness, murmuring words only for the wary horses' ears. Hermione, set unsettled by the eerie shrills of the thestrals, stepped back from the encounter and watched Severus with uneasy doubt.
She had assumed that he was capable of seeing thestrals, but his interaction with them was more disturbing than anything that she could have imagined.
The thestrals seemed drawn to him, and him to them, in a disconcerting way. Thestrals were omens of death and carnivorous beasts that seemed fascinated by death, she considered, so how was it so startling that Severus and thestrals could bond so effortlessly? Her stomach twisted at the thought.
Severus looked back at her and motioned with his neck to follow him. Reluctantly, she followed him as the thestrals led them deeper into the forest, with only the shrill creak of their call to indicate their continued presence.
o~O~o
Several hours passed as they followed the thestrals deep into the woods. Severus had recast a warming charm over Hermione and a newfound warmth invigorated her weary steps. She replayed his words from this morning countless times in her head, remembering the vow under Promissum Certus.
Assurances that I intend for you to keep.
She clenched her teeth.
At sundown, the herd had stopped and seemingly nudged Severus in a final goodbye. The final thestral gave him a conclusive shrill cry, parting from Severus after accepting a last pet through his silky mane. Severus held his outstretched hand in a profound parting gesture and was left holding an invisible strand of hair between his fingertips.
"Thestral hair." He muttered to Hermione as he turned back. "Rarely shed, and entirely useless if taken by force."
He placed the invisible strand into an empty vial and returned it to his bag.
"Where are we?" Asked Hermione uncertainly.
"Thestrals have an impeccable sense of direction." He lectured informally. "Speaking only the location, thestrals will navigate any rider to their desired place. In this case, to the caapi vine." He studied the soil closely.
He turned back to Hermione who was staring at him with an uneasy countenance.
Perhaps it was his final goodbye to the thestrals, or the ease with which they adopted his presence to the herd, maybe even the shed strand of hair – Hermione couldn't identify what aspect of their interaction made her so anxious. His familiarity with death sent an apprehensive spasm down her spine, one that failed to go unnoticed by Snape.
"You don't like thestrals." He stated more than questioned.
Hermione bit her lip, unsure of how to explain.
"I don't see them," she said softly, "like you do." Her eyes darted away and then back to his.
His expression was unreadable as he studied her.
He stepped closer to her. "Do they frighten you?"
Hermione couldn't help but wonder if his question was less superficial than it sounded.
"I don't know." She whispered. "They're disquieting."
Severus's deliberate silence conveyed that he expected her to continue her thought.
"I think because our perception of them changes but they've always been the same. I guess if I could see them, I'd feel more…" She shrugged as she trailed off. She couldn't find the word.
Snape studied her for another moment before sharply changing the subject.
"It is late. Let's finish this."
He brushed the soil from under his foot until it hit a hard root-like structure.
He withdrew his wand. "Accio Caapi." His spell summoned forcefully through the ground. A ripping sound from underfoot cast through the earth and tore a slice of ground open at their feet. A brown, wood-like vine splintered from the soil and the smell of dampened dirt permeated the air.
Severus reached down and pulled the vine from the ground with his bare hands. The plant creaked with resistance, fighting against the outward pull of his sinewy arms. The vine contracted against his strength, its razor-sharp bark slicing back through the ground and half out of his grasp.
"Granger!" He gritted, grasping the end of the vine with bloodied hands. "The sword you daft girl!" He wrapped his arm around the struggling vine and pressed his chest against the ground in opposition.
Hermione hurriedly reached into the first compartment of his travel bag and gripped the ruby-encrusted handle of the Gryffindor Sword. Her nervous first slice of the blade barely cut through the bark-like exterior.
"Again!" He roared as the vine recoiled and cut sharply into the skin of his forearm.
Hermione sent a second slice of the blade into the pith of the vine. A sticky sap oozed onto the blade and coated it like resin.
"Don't touch it!" He spat against the strength of the thrashing vine. "The sap – Don't. Touch. It."
Hermione made a final cut through the vine which released Severus from the drag of the writhing plant. He released his side of the hacked vine and pulled himself up from the damp earth. The cut section of vine laid stiff against the cool ground, thick sap coating the sides of the splintered ends.
"The bag." He instructed, kicking her the travel bag. "Wrap the vine in cloth and tie it." He pressed his palm against the red stream of blood and elevated his upper extremity into the air.
Hermione, noticing the red gash in his arm, followed his commands by retrieving a patch of linen from the bag and encircled the piece of vine with ample layers of cloth. She then wiped the sword and shoved it and the vine parcel into the bag.
Severus and Hermione looked through his cut sleeve. Sharp gashes made their way to the striated flesh below, muscle and fatty tissue exposed to the chill evening air. A red stream of blood drained steadily out of the cuts and down the length of his arm.
He held his good arm out to Hermione and commanded her to grab his wrist.
Hermione grabbed his intact wrist and held her breath against the dizzying pull of his disapparation. It was a weak and jerky disapparation.
o~O~o
The two landed in the Potion Master's Office. Severus crashed on top of Hermione, pressing her back against the cold stone of the office floor. He swiftly rolled off her and again pressed his right palm into the stream of blood that flowed from the sleeve of his left forearm. He continued to raise his arm in the air, fighting the pull of gravity on an increasingly tiring arm.
Severus struggled to stand and soon realized that a wave of vertigo and nausea prevented even the grossest of physical movements. He was getting weak.
"Blood Replenishing Potion." He commanded her. "Then Essence of Dittany."
Hermione raced to his storeroom and climbed the ladder to his alphabetized bottles. She gathered two bottles of Blood Replenishing Potion and returned to his side. She uncorked one bottle and held it to his mouth.
A rust-colored potion drained from the glass bottle and into his mouth.
"Another."
Hermione uncorked a second bottle and tipped it down his throat. Severus swallowed hard against the thick liquid and closed his eyes to steady the spin of the room.
Hermione ran back to the storage room in search of the Essence of Dittany. She pulled a dropper bottle containing the silvery liquid and swirled it gently between her palms.
A heavy-lidded Severus sat on the floor of the office, watching her hurried movements.
On her return, he removed his bloodied palm from his saturated sleeve and presented his sliced forearm to her.
"Cut the sleeve." He ordered and removed the ceramic knife from his travel bag. Hermione fumbled nervously with the knife, cutting the fabric shakily away from his damaged skin. The blood had coagulated into a thick, dark, jelly-like clot against the walls of his deep tissue. Hermione pulled the fabric apart in a final quick tear, revealing the Dark Mark underneath. He pulled his arm away from her touch and hitched the soiled sleeve over the brand. Hermione looked away.
"Aguamenti" He held his black wand against the wound and rinsed the clot away with clean, fresh water.
In a quiet, almost song-like incantation, Severus then pointed his wand to the deep gash and recited a melodious spell across the length of the wound. Hermione watched him recite the spell three times. By the end, a knitted fabric of tissue covered the wound like a thickened spiderweb.
He then relaxed his injured arm towards Hermione, pulling the sleeve of his robe back just enough to reveal the healing tissue beneath.
"Essence of Dittany." He ordered her firmly. "Three drops, no more."
Cautiously, Hermione placed three drops of the silvery fluid to his injury, and a thin scab formed over nearly healed flesh.
He dropped his arm by his side and closed his eyes in fatigue.
Several minutes passed in silence where he pulled in slow, deep breaths.
Hermione watched him intently, as if at any instant he might collapse from the blood loss.
A thought struck her as they sat on the floor of the Potions Office, dried blood and empty bottles strewn across the stone at their feet.
"Professor Slughorn-" She said uncertainly, referring to the new Potions Master. "Do you think he'll notice the missing potions?"
Severus sneered; His eyes still closed. "It's not the first time that you've concerned yourself about theft from this room, is it?"
Her cheeks burned red, and she was grateful that his lids were still gently closed so that he could not see her reaction.
"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"Do not insult me, Granger." His smooth voice purred.
Hermione bit her lip, wondering how he knew about the boomslang skin.
"I will replace his potions," he sighed. "Before he returns to work."
Hermione nodded, half-satisfied.
"Do you think he'll know that someone was in here?" She further pried.
Snape shook his head once.
"Professor Slughorn prefers to live in Hogsmeade, Granger. He will have no idea that you broke into his office, nor will he know that you inhabit that room. Do give it a rest." He looked around the office. "We, on the other hand… should return you to your room." He waved his wand and the empty potions bottles vanished. The Essence of Dittany returned to its original place on the shelf, and his dried, caked blood disappeared from the stone floor.
She watched how impressively he could command order of the room with such a simple flick.
Hermione pushed aside her lingering concern for Slughorn and pulled herself to her feet.
Severus lifted himself up with the help of his good arm and inspected his sleeve before ripping the remaining tattered fabric from its seam. His robe was beyond magical repair. He vanished the tattered fabric.
The two of them parted the office without trace of their existence and walked silently down the stone hallway to the living quarters.
Severus directed her back to the Potion Master's room and unlocked the door. He stood stiffly outside of it as she walked in.
Before he could close the door on her, she stopped in the doorway and turned back.
"What were you singing?" She asked him inquisitively. "When you healed your arm."
"Vulnera Sanentur." His answer was abrupt, and he did not elaborate.
Hermione glanced at the soft, new skin that covered the once deeply split flesh of his arm.
"Would you teach it to me?" She asked.
"No. Go to sleep." Severus attempted to close her door, irritated. Hermione instead blocked it with her foot.
"Why not?"
"It is an incantation for deep wounds." He said stiffly. "Of which neither of us have. Secondly, you lack a wand, dim girl. Move your foot."
"How did you learn it, then?" Hermione stubbornly inquired, ignoring his command.
Severus's black eyes flicked down at her menacingly. There was a threatening darkness that resided within those ghostly apertures.
"Do you ever think about the answer before you ask a question?" He paused for a moment to let her contemplate his words. "I learned on deep tissue injuries, Granger… Practicing on more wounds than what I happened upon by chance."
Hermione shook her head, not understanding his reply.
The man in the doorway scrutinized her foot, still blocking the doorframe. He wasn't going to elaborate.
"Move. Your. Foot." He bit each syllable. He stepped into the doorframe, his height towering above Hermione's.
"Name what you want. To teach me." Hermione wasn't sure what made her say it, but the words left her lips faster than she could rethink them.
Severus's irritated expression reverted to an inscrutable mask. He stepped forward so that his body crossed the threshold to her chamber.
"Consider what you're bargaining, Miss Granger," His eyes trailed down the curve of her neck before he continued. "Because tomorrow evening I may reconsider what's worth my time."
Hermione held back a shiver. Did he mean what she thought? How far would she go for the sake of knowledge, and did he already know?
Severus turned sharply around and windlessly shut the door behind him. Hermione didn't need to test it to know that the door would be impenetrable until the next time he returned.
o~O~o
Hermione slept the most part of the next day. She awoke sometime between lunch and supper, surprised at how sore the prior days had left her. She found a note on her lunch tray with condensed, small handwriting.
Dinner, my office. 6pm
Hermione briefly wondered how he expected her to get there from her locked chambers, but pushed the thought aside for a later time. Surely, he had already considered that.
Hermione occupied herself in the meantime with cleaning her chambers, replacing the bed sheets, a shower, and donning fresh clothes. Taming her hair without a wand was another story, so she opted to pull the wildest curls back from her face.
She combed through his extensive collection of Defense Against the Dark Arts books in search of Vulnera Sanentur but to no avail. She had never seen it in her DADA student books, which she had read several times, nor had she encountered it during her extensive independent studies at the Hogwarts library. It was an elusive spell of enormous magical potential, and it puzzled her how such a highly functional spell could be so difficult to find.
Hermione gazed at herself in the mirror.
Would they begin brewing the Mopsus potion this evening? Did he reconsider what she asked about teaching the Vulnera Sanentur spell? Hermione paused when she remembered his first response.
Consider what you're bargaining, Miss Granger.
Her reflection stared back at her in consternation. What would she be willing to bargain? Her mind flashed back to their night in the warming hut.
It wasn't unimaginable that he would propose an agreement in a similar nature, but could she accede?
She paced. It would be a cunning use of his talents. Would he use her thirst for knowledge against herself, for a benefit yet unbeknownst to her? What would he ask for in return, and was it worth the value of teaching this spell?
Hermione didn't get much time to weigh her final verdict before the clock in her room chimed 6. At the last chime resonated throughout her room, her fireplace's flames turned emerald green. His deep voice spoked sharply into the flames from the other side.
"Granger. Let us begin."
Hermione swallowed nervously, then stepped through the fire into his office.
When she emerged, Snape was sitting coolly in his chair. He had a small glass of elf-made wine at the side of his desk which appeared to be poured from a dusty-looking bottle behind him. Wordlessly, he folded a thick piece of parchment into an envelope which he sealed with a personalized wax stamp. He placed the letter inside his desk and brought his attention to the witch standing opposite of him.
He studied her quietly. She had attempted to tame her wild hair into a manageable half-twist, which fell behind her neck in a bushy frizz. She wore a long-sleeved sweater that gently hugged her curves and revealed little more than the nook of her collarbones. The tops of her knee-high socks barely kissed the hem of her long skirt, exposing only a glimpse of the light skin of her thighs.
"Miss Granger." He greeted her
Hermione shifted nervously. "Sir." Her honey brown eyes met his.
He flicked his head to a simmering cauldron in the corner of his office. It bubbled a light green and threw occasional flecks of bright silver sparks above the surface.
"The Mopsus potion." He stated simply. "I have started the initial brew. It will not be ready for three days."
Hermione nodded in understanding. She found a sense of relief in knowing that he had taken the opportunity to begin without her. It seemed to be a mutual understanding to minimize their time together whenever possible.
"Although, if you intend to drink it you might as well be privy to the manner in which it was brewed."
Hermione considered his statement. "You are giving me the choice?" she asked finally.
Snape sneered. "Yes." He rose quietly and stepped to the corner where he stirred the hot cauldron. "You will have a choice to take my word for Potter's whereabouts-" He spat Potter's name. "-Or you can see so for yourself."
Hermione gazed into the swirling liquid. For an imperceptible second, she imagined that Harry's face appeared on the surface.
"I'll drink it." She spoke softly.
"Very well." He returned back to the desk. "That is not why I called you to my office, however." Severus let his final words linger into the room's silence.
Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from breaking his train of thought.
Snape continued forebodingly. "The spell that you are asking to learn is dark magic-" He quickly raised a hand to silence the alarmed witch. "-Yes, Granger. Perhaps you have heard of Gellert Grindelwald? It was this dark wizard from which this spell was originated, so that endless torture could proceed endless healing."
Hermione's heart sank. To perform such unthinkable acts sent a wave of nausea to her core.
"This spell is evil." She whispered.
"Its origins derive from dark intentions, Granger. There is a marked difference." He picked up the stem of his red wine and sipped it dryly. "But knowledge does not always emerge from morality and holding such knowledge may corrupt the soul it inhabits."
Hermione bit her lip in thought. "Do you think it is dark?" She asked him.
Severus's face did not reveal the slightest sign of his opinion.
"It is not my point of view that the logic of a concept can be entirely derived from its history. History demonstrates that the virtue of a warrior depended upon courage and honor. The virtue of a ruler may have depended upon strength and the virtue of a peasant depended upon self-sacrifice and compassion. My philosophy is that logic must meet the history of a concept as each is essentially informed by the other. Likewise, morality is a sand dune through time- The shape is an ever-changing form. Time reshapes its superficial lines while the dune's history serves as its foundation on which the wind arrests."
Hermione considered before positing. "What function does revenge serve as a social phenomenon? For instance, would Grindelwald's political acts like enslaving or killing muggles in retribution of magical suppression have merited the revenge of a death-eater magnitude?" She challenged.
Severus spun around to face the young witch.
"There is no guarantee that one's actions will ever result in what one wishes the other person to feel. If the goal for acts of vengeful violence is to balance the scales of wrongdoing, we should not have the expectation that the individual will feel the same pain that they have inflicted on the victim."
Severus paused to let her consider his thought. He continued. "The purpose of revenge is not to make the perturbator feel the pain that their victims have felt. Instead, it is to inflict a symbol- A statement that one does not tolerate an individual who denies the subjectivity of others' pain. It can be of equal, lesser, or greater magnitude, depending on the circumstance."
"Feels a bit like an absolvent of guilt." She contemplated. "If people feel guilty for some process, then take measures to absolve it, they no longer have to carry the heavy weight of a guilty conscious."
Snape paced, considering her reply before he responded in contradiction.
"Guilt is self-punishment, Hermione. It does nothing for the victim. It is Asceticism at its rudiment and pursues nihilist non-grasping at its finest."
"I'd argue that it serves as a motive for behavioral changes." Hermione challenged.
"And yet could one change their behavior without the scourge of guilt?"
Hermione bit her lip. "I suppose. But it feels like an appropriate reaction to inadvertent harm."
Severus's thin lips curled down into a slight frown. "You have a binary take on good and evil. Your mind has been falsely radicalized by the idea of an objective morality or objective truth. To deny that reality is ever changing and thus that morality is subjective is psychologically unsustainable. These binary slivers of moral judgements are pieces of you that you feel bad about every day and deny, the part that you eventually begin to hate in yourself."
He inhaled and stepped closer to Hermione. "Imagine, girl, that the universe is uncaring. That there is no longer the pressure to pursue kindness, compassion, or sympathy. Perhaps there is no longer a decree of a god to bring purpose to your emotions. The feelings that you have inside of you – revenge, compassion, anger…" He leaned in closer and whispered delicately, "…Lust." He pulled away but his scent lingered in her periphery. "These feelings are neither moral nor immoral. There can be actions and feelings that transcend the binary take on good and evil."
"It's a very Nietzsche take on ethics. The uncaring universe. God is Dead and all that." She noted.
"Do you agree or not?" He asked sharply.
"I think that there are undeniable truths. Truths that are ingrained in each of our souls, universal truths that transcend culture and time. And once those truths are disregarded, one experiences a strong sense of motivation to amend the injustices. The means by which the injustice is amended is what is morally subjective and only time can tell."
"Revenge," He said after pondering her response, "Is a dish best served cold."
"Cold?" She clarified.
"More satisfying with time." He held up his glass of wine to the light. "Like most good things."
Hermione pondered his response, unsure of what to say. Was his cryptic remark about Dumbledore or something else?
Snape broke the train of her thought. "I have considered what I want." He stood, and circled around to the front of his desk where Hermione sat. His dark eyes glinted ominously. "Knowing what you know now, do you still wish to learn Vulnera Sanentur?"
Hermione nodded.
"Then I will temporarily return your wand to you. For one hour. During which time you will cast one spell and one spell only. Any attempt otherwise will be met with harsh repercussions. Am I clear?"
Hermione nodded again, this time more apprehensively.
"When the hour has ended, you will return the wand. And for one additional hour you will do as I say –" He lingered, " – without objection. Do we have an agreement?"
She hesitated.
"What you say?"
Snape's face revealed nothing. He appeared entirely disinterested in whether they continued their conversation or not.
"My terms, Granger, not yours. Otherwise, you may return to your room."
She studied his expressionless mask before nodding her head. "I accept."
"Then let us begin." He tapped his wand against an hourglass and the sand began to trickle through the throat of the ampules.
Severus pulled back the wrist of his left sleeve and pointed his wand against his pale flesh. "Sectumsempra." He murmured as he quickly flicked the tip across the surface of his skin. A thin gash emerged from under the wand, and a profuse stream of blood poured from the wound. Hermione gasped.
Ignoring her shock, he traced his wand along the top of the wound to the bottom, reciting the musical incantation. The blood magically returned to the source, and with each incantation a thin web of tissue grew over the last until no evidence of the wound remained.
He scribbled the incantation on a scrap of parchment and handed it to Hermione. "Repeat this precisely."
Hermione swallowed in disbelief. She had just realized what she had asked of Snape and the weight of her request pressed heavily against her consciousness. He intended to use himself for her practice. She hesitated.
"Granger! Focus!" He snapped impatiently.
Hermione balked. "Vulnera Sanentur." She recited quietly, attempting to mimic his rhythmic cadence.
"Now imagine the blood flow abating. Recite it as you envision the arrest of blood."
Hermione focused her thoughts on stopping the flow. "Vulnera Sanentur."
"Adequate. Now imagine cleaning the wound. Imagine rinsing it. Envision cool, clean water carrying the debris out of the wound. Think of nothing else."
Hermione did as she was told, reciting the incantation as she did so.
"Now to heal. Heal the flesh from the deepest tissue to the superficial. Focus first on the muscle. Consider the blood vessels and nerves. Work outward to the dermis and the epidermis. Do not end the final incantation before envisioning all tissues healed."
Hermione nodded compliantly. She imagined the sinewy muscle below his skin being knitted closed. She imagined the soldering of his blood vessels and the fine white nerves back together. Her mind projected new skin replacing old, leaving no trace of injury. Snape studied her intently.
"Now focus your mind." He commanded her. Out of his robes he withdrew her wand and handed it to her.
Hermione grasped it uneasily as he once again recited Sectumsempra against the dorsal surface of his wrist. A steady stream of blood trickled from the wound.
Hermione pointed her wand just barely above the wound and quietly recited the first verse. The blood slowed but did not stop.
"Concentrate."
Hermione imagined a clot forming. She imagined the meshwork of platelets aggregating into a sticky thrombus and congealing against the walls of the cut. She felt a stream of magic course down her wand and travel into his arm, pulling the blood back into its wound.
"Now clean it." He commanded through gritted teeth. She realized that some nerves were most likely exposed by the way he braced against the table.
She did as she was ordered, imagining fresh water rinsing the interior of the wound of debris. Severus said nothing as she finished her second recitation of Vulnera Sanentur.
"Slowly." He demanded of her final recitation.
She dutifully incanted the final verse, channeling a vision of a healing wound. The muscle fibers interwove under his veins and nerves. The skin stretched painfully over the bed of the wound and Severus released a small groan as she pulled her wand away from a partially healed dermal layer. He muttered a single recitation of the spell over his own wrist and returned the skin to new.
"You tried to grow the skin back." He flexed and released a tight fist. "Next time, you will imagine stitching the skin not growing it." He tossed back the remainder of his nettle wine.
Hermione pulled her eyes from his wrist back to his face. Strings of his greasy black hair hung over his clenched jaw and the hook of his nose protruded sharply out from the shadows on his face.
"Sectumsempra." He said again, and the two continued on with the lesson until the final grains of sand hit the bottom of the hourglass ampule.
o~O~o
At the conclusion of the lesson, Severus reclaimed her wand and returned it to the depths of his robes.
She had made strong progress over the course of the hour, managing to heal a deep laceration to a wide scab. Snape's sour countenance at the scab did little to affirm her progress.
"Passable," was all the validation Hermione elicited from the bitter wizard by the third attempt, and he said no more when the hourglass ran dry.
He waved his wand to apparate two glasses of water. He pushed one towards the young witch and sipped on the second in silence. Hermione welcomed the break from his harsh instruction and accepted the cool water with a gentle, 'thanks.'
"I didn't realize-" She started uncertainly, "That I'd learn like that." She finished.
Severus didn't answer. His cool eyes met hers in an indiscernible expression. She shifted uneasily.
Snape placed his empty glass down and stepped closer to Hermione.
"Only living flesh can be repaired through Vulnera Sanentur. Nor can one reattach severed tissue." He quietly explained.
Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded in understanding. She averted her eyes from his and let them wonder aimlessly around the room. Little had changed since she had been brought here that first night. She remembered the same stone hearth that he pushed her against and his threat of restraints should she attempt another escape. The same desk sat in front of her, but this time with a magical hourglass – Hermione stopped.
The hourglass had reset.
Hermione jerked her eyes back to Snape, who stood silently observing her realization.
"It seemed fitting to me," He murmured, "That an hour of my body is worth an hour of yours." He tapped the hourglass and the sand trickled down at the same slow speed as his lesson.
Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. Her lungs raced to match the pace of her pounding heart, and Snape smiled wickedly at her response. With one long step, he closed the gap between their bodies and pushed the witch backward onto the wooden desk behind her. Hermione grasped the edge of the desk in shock, attempting to keep herself upright against his forceful shove. Severus placed one palm on the desk behind her and the other brushed off the scattered books and parchment residing on the surface. He grabbed one of her legs to tilt her back onto the flat surface of the desk and pressed his body into the open space of her hips. She gasped at the sudden pressure between her thighs.
He drew at the hem of her sweater and pulled the seam over her crown. Snape kept her arms confined within the sleeves above her head, tugging behind her neck so that her back arched invitingly into the air. Her soft, rounded breasts rose and fell with the rhythm of her breaths, garnering the attention of the roused headmaster.
"No bra, Miss Granger?" He pinched the pink flesh of one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione recoiled at the pain but bit back a moan. One swift movement released her arms from the sleeves of her sweater, and he threw it aside. His cool fingers trailed down her torso to where her smooth skin met the hem of her skirt. He studied where the buttons of her skirt trailed down the side, and gently pushed each button through their respective holes.
Hermione watched his cool, pale fingers skillfully work at the buttons holding her skirt together. He plucked each piece with unhurried intention as if he savored the tension that built with each gap that opened between them. His eyes trailed from the notch of her hip down to the creamy white exposure of thigh, studying the goosebumps that arose as flesh met air.
Snape brought his other hand to the crook behind her ear and tangled his long fingers in her messy curls. Grasping a fistful of hair by the roots, he pulled her head back to expose the delicate skin of her neck. She exhaled softly at his pull. He bent down to smell the faint essence of ginger and orange of Hermione's soap, working his second hand to her face where his thumb rested testingly on her bottom lip.
Hermione watched his eyes as they fell to her lips. His thumb brushed the sensitive edge of her mouth to part and obediently she relaxed her jaw to his probe.
Snape pressed his thumb lightly into her warm mouth and instinctually she flicked her tongue against the pad of his probing finger. Encouraged by her response, his other hand twisted even deeper into her wild curls as his thumb traced the entrance of her welcoming lips. She opened her mouth wider to invite more of him in, and Snape greedily pressed his thumb deeper. She sucked it softly, noting how his eyes widened in arousal.
He removed his thumb from her lips and pulled her hips closer. Her thighs were forced apart by his presence between them, feet dangling off the desk into space. She felt the hard pressure of his cock constrained against the fabric of his pants, pressing against the exposed skin of her legs. She let out a soft sigh at the feel of his firmness against her body.
Urged by her reaction, Severus pulled her completely off his desk and ripped the remaining fabric of her skirt and panties down her legs.
"Knees." He commanded, his eyes filled with fire.
Hermione lowered herself to her knees so that his waist was level with her face. Her bare knees met a soft green rug over which he towered, staring down at her with forced restraint.
Hermione knew what he expected and a mounting passion inside of her pressed her to comply. She softly worked down a row of buttons on his trousers, noting the soft groans that escaped his throat as her fingers brushed against the fabric confining the firmness within. Hermione pulled at last to the waist of his trousers and guided them to the ground at his ankles. Severus kicked the pants aside and pressed his hips forward to an awaiting witch.
Hermione gently ran the tip of her moist tongue along the length of his cock. In her peripheral vision, she observed his knees soften at the touch. His eyes bore down at her in building anticipation, his hands gripping the edge of the desk
She swirled her tongue around the tip of his head and once again made a teasing lick down to the base of his length. Severus parted his lips at the sensation of her warm mouth against his groin. A bead of precum emerged from his shaft and she swallowed it hungrily. He tasted salty-sweet, Hermione noted, and the small taste left her hungry for more.
When she was sure that she could not build the tension much higher, Hermione relaxed her jaw and took him into her warm mouth. Severus groaned and his hips instinctually pushed themselves forward to deepen the sensation.
Hermione, unprepared for his thrust, choked against the girth of his cock. He was at the back of her throat, with length to spare, probing the depths of her mouth.
He withdrew briefly to let her breathe, then pushed himself forward again, his hips grinding forward along the length of her awaiting tongue. Hermione recoiled at the force of his thrust, but instead of relenting he grabbed the back of her head to deepen his prod.
Unable to catch her breath, Hermione gasped before another thrust and choked. She noticed that he seemed incited by her gasping. He thrust continuously to the verge of leaving her breathless and emerged only seconds before plunging her back to choking rasps.
He pulled and thrust against her face with an unbridled fervor. Hermione's knees chaffed against the rug as she received his cock, the friction of the rug burning the skin that separated her from the floor. He was using her mouth as his personal fuck hole, unrelenting to her tiring jaw or her starving lungs.
At last, he pulled her head away, a thin line of saliva breaking apart from his cock as he did so. He stared down at her as if in fever, sweat beading down the sides of his face. Hermione took it as a chance to catch her breath but Snape gave her little time before pulling her upright and bending her over his desk. Her nipples met the hard wood as he stood upright behind her.
He licked his middle finger and slid it between her legs. Her gash was was slick from anticipation and welcomed the small circles he drew on her clit before plunging into her cunt.
Her entire body tingled in response and a quiet moan escaped her lips.
"Mmmm." Severus hummed, then muttered a spell that Hermione recognized as a sound barrier charm. "I am going to make you scream hoarse." He whispered in her ear. His finger rubbed inside of her in rhythmic cadence.
Hermione was sandwiched between the desk and his imposing form. One of his hands rested on her mid back, holding her down as he prodded her wet hole. Hermione moaned.
Continuing to press her against the desk, Snape removed his finger and slid his cock around the slick that drenched her quim. Hermione arched back in eagerness.
Severus pushed himself through her wet lips and filled his girth between her legs. They gasped in unison. His fingers raked over her bottom as he slowly pumped against her inner walls. Hermione closed her eyes against the sensation of his body filling, raking, and pressing against her whole backside. She knew that he was building his own climax, fighting the urge to pound her senseless.
Hermione gasped when his thrusts delved deeper and faster. He grabbed one of her legs and threw her around so that she opened widely to his body. His teeth raked down to her nipples and he bit sharply down. She muffled a cry with her hand.
"No." He pulled her hand away and pinned it to the desk. His remaining thumb brushed against her nipple and his forefinger clamped down. She gasped.
"Not nearly loud enough, Granger." He released her nipple and thrust harder into her hips. His sharp teeth bit down again into her neck, and she cried out in pain. His wicked mouth twisted at the sound of her cry and his hips buckled into a quicker rhythm.
"I'm going to fuck you raw." He whispered, pulling her knees up to her breasts. He grabbed both of her hips in his hands, and pulled her in with each thrust, forcing himself to the back of her cervix. The friction between her clit and insides grew into a throbbing pleasure. She felt the soft intrusion of his mind entering hers, but this time she welcomed it.
She felt him savor the tingling of her whole body against the pulse of his cock, the way her clit ached when he brushed against it on each thrust. With him inside of her mind, she wouldn't be able to fight the inevitable wave of pleasure that he brought her. She felt the intimacy grow beyond the physical explorations of her body and through her mind like a solar flare.
Severus felt her orgasm building and he groaned in response. She wondered if he felt what she felt.
"Hmm." He breathed. His body tensed and Hermione recognized that her own building climax was precipitating his. His mouth opened as he gasped in air, probing her mind to cum with him.
His fingers clamped down around her nipples and Hermione's mind exploded like a supernova. She couldn't hold back the stirring cry that emerged from her core – it was a cry of pleasurable pain and orgasm, complete submission to his body's command. Severus buckled in response, his hips jerking inside of her as a warm wetness spread against her inner walls. He groaned alongside her as he pulled their shared sensations into one, melding their convulsions until their bodies went weak.