A/N: Readers, I'm sorry it's been a hot minute since I've posted. The holidays were upon us, and I had to come down from my lonely writer's garret and visit with my nearest and dearest as well as those flung far and away.
Bu-ut, now that THAT business is concluded, we can get back to the business at hand, namely that of learning the fates of those who had the misfortune to fall into Salazar Slytherin's snare.
Hope you all enjoy,
—K
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Ch. 4— Lust
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Albus Dumbledore listened to all around him as he pretended to doze beside the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff.
She and Godric were talking quietly while Mistress Ravenclaw and Slytherin discussed the merits of aptitude testing for each incoming Hogwarts student to see if they were intelligent enough to attend the school.
Surprisingly, Slytherin was against the idea, citing all blood-qualified witches and wizards needed to be trained to harness their power while Mistress Ravenclaw thought the tests should be implemented immediately before the letters were sent out. "After all, Salazar, how does one cultivate one's rose garden if not but first pruning a few stems?"
"I'll take it under advisement, Rowena," he said hesitantly, and the two continued to discuss matters concerning matriculation.
And as he listened, Albus grew more worried.
If Severus didn't put an end to this, then Hogwarts, as well as the rest of the wizarding world, was headed once more down a dark path of blood purity and global tyranny. Because, unlike Tom Riddle and Gellert Grindlewald, Salazar Slytherin was not concerned with world domination. Instead, being possessed with hindsight and having the patience, as well as an apparent immortality, to see his plan to fruition, he was concerned solely with the indoctrination of young witches and wizards, investing in their futures so they may be future leaders of the world.
And thus, he would, in time, inculcate the entire world.
Leaving Slytherin and Mistress Ravenclaw to their discussion, Albus once more attuned to the conversation of Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor, hearing Mistress Hufflepuff say, "Do you think he really used the knowledge shared by Herpo the Foul? It was so dark, Godric."
"Without a doubt, Helga. But I have a hard time believing Salazar would shrive his soul. No. He'd have found a way to overcome that obstacle for certain."
"Perhaps…." she said uncertainly.
"Perhaps." Godric shrugged. "But you know how Salazar detests using the Dark Arts, and having a horcrux would not sit well with him.…"
"Do you think the Nectar of Ambrosia could—"
"—It would be possible," Godric interjected. "After all, he and Persephone were very close once upon a time."
Albus's thoughts drew to an abrupt halt.
Persephone, as in the Goddess Persephone? His eyebrows rose, but he quickly schooled his features back to that of sleep.
Perhaps, it was possible.
After all, the Founders were imbued with nearly God-like capabilities in the magical arts; their powers unrivaled by any other.
And the gods, pending on one's beliefs, would not let that go unnoticed.
And if it followed that the Goddess Persephone was walking among them, if ambrosia was real, and if Slytherin met Persephone, then Salazar Slytherin could be immortal.
And then they were all of them damned because the architect of the Chamber of Secrets, though pious and moral, was without pity or conscience, much like his counterpart Hades.
And now Slytherin was telling Lady Ravenclaw it could be possible to have her portrait-imbued self once more made mortal since her intrinsic magic was tied into the framework of the castle itself.
This situation was escalating into a ten-headed hydra.
One thing was for certain, Severus had better hurry because once more the fate of the entire wizarding world rested upon his shoulders.
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Professor Snape landed them, and Hermione immediately leapt out of his arms.
Raising her hands to her head, she thoroughly shook out her hair. Three wasps and one hornet flew off, and she breathed deep to keep from screaming in disgust and revulsion.
OH, HOLY FUCKING HELL! Salazar Slytherin was one sadistic son of a bitch! Christ! Again, she shook out her hair, and another wasp flew off.
Just the remembered thought of the swarm, the smell, the sounds, the wings of thousands upon thousands of stinging insects buzzing around her…
Turning her back on him, Hermione gagged and bent over.
"Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked, his voice tentative, concerned.
She held up a hand signaling 'a moment' and breathed deep, trying to overcome her nausea.
Good Christ! Don't think about it! Don't think about the thousands upon thousands of writhing bodies with their stingers extended, slightly scoring your skin…
Again, she gagged.
Occlude! she urged herself. Occlude, goddamn you!
Drawing a deep breath, Hermione packed her disgust and revulsion away.
Two more breaths and she felt she could stand again.
One more calming breath and she was once more composed. She turned around to face her professor, saying, "Alright, this isn't even 'hell proper'. Including Limbo and the ferry ride over, we've only made it to the anteroom of hell where the undecided go: its first level."
He gave her a wry look. "Hell proper, hmm?" He nodded to the plain wooden door. "Then it's time for judgment."
His words had her mouth going dry. Gulping, she said, "According to Dante, King Minos, the judger of the damned, could be waiting on the other side, winding his forked tail about himself to decide which level of hell we deserve to go. And should this happen, we might get separated."
Professor Snape nodded. "Or, like Dante and Virgil, we'll be given a tour of each of the levels as we go. Salazar Slytherin likes to impress, Miss Granger. This is his home, and he's a great showman. As the intruders we are into his domain, he'll want us to appreciate it fully."
She weighed his words, and ultimately agreed with him. "Alright, if there more than likely isn't a Minos, the second circle of hell is reserved for those committing the sin of lust."
He nodded. "Yes. This will be our first encounter with one of the seven deadly sins, and what are they?" he asked her.
Obediently, Hermione answered, ticking them off her fingers. "Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride."
His eyes met hers. "Let's discuss the nature of lust before we journey further. Lust isn't only about sexual gratification. In fact, that's the least of it, the most obvious. Lust is about 'intense desire' if one goes back to the origin of the word. Money, food, fame, power, and sexual release. Any one of these can be fueled by lust."
She bit her lip and then licked the spot before asking, "Do you think this will be another test of our morals?"
"Undoubtedly. Salazar Slytherin is testing to see if we're worthy enough to enter his sancta sanctorum where, gods willing, his portrait resides. And if we fail any one of these tests… give way to our baser urges…"
Hermione gulped, and said softly, "We could be forever damned. And for the sin of lust, we'll be spun for an eternity in a whirlwind, always parted from that which we desire most." But then a corner of her mouth lifted, and she smiled wryly up at him. "But you can fly, so there's that."
He scowled down at her, and she shrugged, saying, "We've got to look on the bright side, professor. And that includes inventorying our skills and strengths—"
"And speaking of inventory," he broke in, "where are your flames?"
Hermione closed her eyes, and crooking a finger, had her jars of bluebell flame flying towards them where they obediently hovered at her side.
"Keep them close to you and guard them, Miss Granger. I cannot emphasize this enough."
Hermione nodded.
"Now, I'll go first. Should Minos be waiting, and you and I get separated, then try your best to stay true to your morals and resist temptation. I'll find you as soon as I'm able."
She nodded and looked at the door, preparing herself.
He hissed the words, and the door immediately flung open wide, sucking them in.
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Hermione didn't even draw breath to scream as shocked as she was. And then she was being thrown in a whirlwind, the wind whipping wildly, lifting her up. It stung her eyes and beat at her hair, causing it to lash upon her skin leaving red marks.
Desperately, she looked around for Professor Snape, but he was nowhere to be found. And it was just the roaring of the wind.
She looked down. There seemed to be ground far below. If she could just get to it…
Think, Hermione, think! Salazar Slytherin would have this as another test. What can one do to counter the winds of lust?
Piety perhaps?
She wasn't religious, but there was more to being pious than being devout. This level was about resisting temptation. All of the levels of hell were, really. But here there was no temptation to resist… only consequence.
However, even as she had the thought, she was being lowered, the wind itself lessening in intensity until her feet touched the ground with a tickling gust, and relief washed through her.
Professor Snape was already there, his eyes ever watchful. "I wasn't permitted to fly to you," he said. "You had to solve this puzzle on your own."
She looked around.
They were in blank sterility…. everything was gray. There were no trees, no color, nothing. It was blank. Even the floor they stood on was non-descript. "I still don't understand what I did, sir."
"You thought of the rules of the game," he continued. "Remember, Slytherin's a great showman, and he's shown you the consequence up front should you fail. Now, call your flames to you and come; we have another test to complete."
With a crook of her finger, her blue-bell flames were trailing along behind her, and gulping thickly, she saw a table set with two cups. 'Drink' was printed in gold in front of them.
She peered into the inky black contents of the cup, and the surface reflected her uncertain expression back up at her.
After sniffing the contents, Professor Snape dipped his finger in the liquid before testing its viscosity between his fingertips and then assessing its taste. His eyes immediately flew to hers.
Oh, dear God. What now?
"Miss Granger, this will possibly be the hardest test you've ever had to take. This is a derivative of the Wish Elixir. It grants our deepest desires and makes them manifest into manipulatable reality." He gave her a pointed look. "But reality is deceptive. You will be given everything you ask for but at a price, and that price is a vicious death forever damned in torment if you don't drink the antidote fast enough."
"And let me guess," she gestured around them, "the antidote is somewhere…."
He nodded. "We'll have to find it."
"Do you think only one of us could ingest it?" she asked as she nodded toward the cups.
"I think since there are two goblets, we'll each be forced to drink."
Picking up her cup, she took a deep breath then said, "Well then… bottoms up."
And as one, they drank.
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Hermione swallowed thickly at the tart, metallic taste. It had the consistency of tree sap and tasted like grapefruit.
She blinked and the room was changing, morphing, becoming something so different and yet familiar.
A white, terrycloth robe appeared in front of her. She reached for it but then hesitated.
And looking over, she found Professor Snape similarly presented with a robe: his being of black silk. He shook his head at her and said, "Not even this. Remember, we must resist all temptation."
Giving a sigh, she turned away and found herself facing her Reading Nook.
Oh, my.
This was her room, the place to which she would withdraw in order to escape the hell they were living while spending each day in that accursed tent, passing the locket back and forth and being terrified.
She'd imagined every white-washed floorboard, the pristine ivory color of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with each and every book she'd ever read, and center to it all: the porcelain, clawfoot tub.
Books surrounded her on three sides and the fourth wall was a large window looking out to sea on a sunny day, the rays sparkling on the water.
A book was there on a wooden tea tray balanced across the lip of the tub. It was the book for pleasure she'd been in the middle of reading right before her world upended to hell. It was marked perfectly where she'd left off. And the tub was full of steaming water and mounds of bubbles.
It was her very own nirvana staring back at her, and it made Hermione's heart hurt to look at it, knowing she shouldn't—couldn't touch.
"What is this place?" Professor Snape asked, his tone of genuine interest.
Hermione bit her lip and said honestly, "Positive visualization made manifest, sir. This is my 'Reading Nook'. I've been planning it in my head since my fifth year."
He began to explore the space, paying particular attention to the volumes on her bookshelves. He opened one of the books and began to read before shutting it and looking up at her. "Do you have an eidetic memory, Miss Granger?"
"Nearly so," she admitted. "I use the 'Method of Loci'. I have since my fifteenth year when I read this book on it in the library." She pointed to a volume at the bottom of her shelf where her non-fiction, muggle books resided. "The room's evolved over the years into a retreat of sorts, and especially so this past year gaining this form and shape." She gestured around them. "You see, I needed somewhere to go—"
"—to escape," he finished, his eyes full of understanding.
"Precisely," she nodded, taken aback by his understanding. "I needed an escape, at times, from the chaos of it all. This is it."
She'd expected him to deride it, deride her. He did neither, just nodded to her that they should journey on, and reluctantly, she followed him.
The scenery around them morphed and shifted becoming a study in white. The white-washed floorboards of her nook became sand-strewn and scruffy wooden planks leading to a saltbox clapboard of a home, nestled next to the sea.
The time-weathered, faded blue front door slowly opened to reveal a hallway in shades of white and cream with accents of green sprinkled throughout. The place wasn't large, but it was open and airy. And as they walked down the hall, she peaked into the rooms, noticing they were uncluttered, following clean lines, and simplistic utilitarian designs. All of the windows were open to let in the warm sea air, and she noticed each plant she saw had a magical property ascribed to it.
And though some were rare succulents, others could be considered common weeds. And all were well-cared for.
Hermione followed Professor Snape as he went unerringly to a room with a very large, very well-appointed library.
"I, too, have read the 'Method of Loci', Miss Granger. The guided imagery helps with occlusion," he said as he gestured to the room they were in.
Hermione realized that much like her own, this was Professor Snape's retreat, his 'Memory Palace'. Her eyes were drawn everywhere at once. And the first thing that struck her was that this place was as far from the dungeons as could possibly be managed. And the second was how alike they were. His retreat could, in point of fact, be an extension of her own.
This room, like hers, was white, except it had a comfortable-looking sofa at floor-center. And it was well-used, Hermione could tell, seeing a head-shaped imprint on the arm where her professor would lay his head.
Which meant this was where he chose to rest when he occluded before bed.
His bookshelves were white-washed floor to ceiling and full to bursting with all manner of tomes, both dark and light, magical and muggle. The magical books didn't seem to be in any particular order until she saw that each book, whether for light or dark magic, was paired with its counterpart. Most notably, books on healing were placed right next to the darkest of magical tomes.
And never was dark without light.
He was a sensualist, like her, and he craved a clean, well-lighted, uncluttered space. After all, shadows abounded enough in their world. In this ultimate representation of self, Hermione was seeing the essence of peace.
She heard the gulls crying, smelled the sea air, and felt the wind ruffle through her hair. And realized she could live quite happily here for the rest of her days.
But she didn't have days; she barely had minutes. They were poisoned, and they needed to find the antidote immediately. Reaching for and finding her professor's hand, she drew him away.
And taken off-guard by her familiarity, he went with her.
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The space morphed to gray before changing again, this time to a very familiar house in a very familiar neighborhood. And Hermione turned her face away, and said, "Dear God, no."
Professor Snape looked at her curiously.
"Hermione!" Her mother called.
She tried to turn away but could not.
The front door opened, and then she was walking into her childhood home. Her father's boots in the foyer, her mother's rain jacket on the hook. Her father liked to watch golf, and a game was being televised coming from the living room. All of these things such comforting, familiar sights and sounds. And the smell of her mother's chicken soup simmering from in the kitchen.
"Hermione, where'd you go?" her mother asked, coming to stand in the hall before her. "I've been trying to reach you for ages!"
At seeing her beautiful mother with bushy hair so like her own and concern for her shining in her eyes, Hermione broke down, weeping.
Professor Snape was at her side in an instant, his eyes demanding an explanation.
She just shook her head and turned away.
"Severus," a sleep-laden voice called out to Professor Snape, "come back to bed."
Professor Snape's eyes widened. And it took no great deduction to realize to whom the voice belonged.
Hermione watched as their surroundings morphed to that of a child's nursery done in shades of yellow, white, and cream. And they were within the home he'd previously imagined where his memory place lay. She saw there was a crib in the nursery, and in the crib was a little girl with a shock of auburn hair and eyes so dark, one could drown in their depths.
Holy shite!
She watched as Professor Snape closed his eyes and turned away from the sight.
"Professor, where do you think the antidote would be?" she asked tightly, terrified with what temptation would be attempted next.
"Miss Granger, congratulations are in order, I see."
Hermione opened her eyes on a cringe as a reporter came up to her with microphone extended. "The Wizengamot has approved your motion to do away with house-elf self-harm unanimously. How do you feel?"
She heard a scoff from beside her, and rolling her eyes, Hermione turned away from the sight.
"Severus, congratulations on your article in Potion's Quarterly. That was a brilliant use for aconite. Shame I didn't think of it myself." A wizard she knew but couldn't immediately place came up to Professor Snape to shake his hand. And then she recalled that the man was a very well-respected, potions master known widely in the circles of academia as being one of the foremost in the field.
Professor Snape grit his jaw, obviously irritated and turned away.
"You know," Hermione said before the scene could shift again, "there's nothing wrong with wanting to be recognized for your contributions, sir." She met his stare and said, "Especially if they're professional and not personal. I understand."
His expression was stony, but he gave an abrupt jerk of his head and gestured they should continue on.
"Hermione," Harry said, "thank God you're alright. Ron and I've been worried—"
"—Christ! This has to stop," Hermione broke in, shouting over Harry's voice, "I'll go crazy if it doesn't!"
"Severus," she heard Professor Dumbledore say.
"It's the nature of the potion," Professor Snape said calmly. "Ignore it, occlude, and think back on the temptations passed. Is there anything that seems to be constant or consistent?
She tried to do as he instructed. "Errm, there was the sea for both of us… has that always been in your visualization?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Mine too. Alright, then… well, it reminds me of a cursed Room of Requirement. Does that help?"
He looked at her curiously while Mrs. Weasley tried to tempt Hermione with some of her apple crumble; it was Hermione's favorite.
She closed her eyes and made a 'wish'; the space around them provided it as the noise around them suddenly ceased and all was quiet and still.
She grinned. "I desired a sterile space, and like the Room of Requirement, this place provided it. Alright, so Slytherin is forcing us to confront our deepest longings and desires repressed. The things we decide to hide from ourselves, don't want others to see, or even admit to having… it's humiliating."
"Perhaps," Professor Snape said. "But it doesn't have to be."
"How so?"
"Slytherin likes to play games and teach lessons through them. There is a lesson to be learned here as there has been for every trial we've faced in this place. Instead of turning away from our desires as they're being made manifest for us, we should try to embrace them and see the lesson in them being presented us."
Her eyes widened. "Because that's the lesson. It's not to resist and turn away from temptation, but to confront this aspect of ourselves and accept it." A corner of her mouth lifted as she said, "It's brilliant, cunning, multi-faceted, sadistic, and morally superior all rolled into one. So, do we need to go back through the gauntlet, confronting every instance we've been shown, or—?"
"No," Professor Snape shook his head. "Even if we had to, we would not have time. By my calculation, we have less than a minute before the poison becomes lethal and no amount of antidote will help. Hopefully, confronting one truth will be enough."
And Hermione watched as the construct shifted to gray before they were in the Headmaster's office with Professor Snape being approached by Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Severus," the bespectacled older wizard said, bringing his arm around Professor Snape's shoulders, "I've long considered you my son."
Professor Snape grit his jaw, his pride clearly stung at this cringe-worthy desire being made manifest, but he replied evenly, "I would've been honored if that were the case, Albus." The figure of Albus Dumbledore morphed into a glass phial full of amber liquid floating mid-air.
Grabbing it, Professor Snape rimmed the phial with a finger and sampled the potion. "It's the antidote. Miss Granger. Confront one of your desires."
Without a thought, her father appeared before her. He was out tinkering in his shed. "You're going to stick around and help me fix this broken gasser, right, keed?" He gestured to the 1967 Aston Martin he'd been restoring for years. He'd given her the keys to it at the end of last summer, and she'd only driven it once.
She'd sold it with the house to finance their move.
Swallowing thickly at the sight, she said, "I'll always remember you, dad; I was lucky to have you as long as I did."
And her father morphed into an amber phial.
Hermione grabbed it and downed its contents immediately, watching as Professor Snape did the same.
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A flash of heat overcame her, and Professor Snape looked at her in surprise before dread overtook him. "The antidote is laced with something." He closed his eyes, attempting to place it." His eyes shot open, and he looked at her in panic. "Keep your distance, girl!"
"Why?" she asked uncertainly, taking a step back from him.
In answer, he stepped towards her and reaching for her, drew her close, trailing his hand up her arm to her neck before cupping her cheek. "I don't know if we'll be given a choice."
Hermione felt her body come to life at his touch, and his hand at her cheek turned to a caress.
"A choice in what?" she asked breathlessly.
She looked on in wide-eyed wonder as Professor Snape began lowering his mouth to hers. And he was kissing her before she could draw her next breath, his tongue performing an innocent exploration. His lips, always so stern and uncompromising when he spoke, were soft against hers as he gently pushed inside.
His other hand cradled her at her nape, and tilting her chin more towards him, he silently asked her to open for him. Feeling her blood heat and pool somewhere south of her naval, Hermione did as he asked, relaxing into their kiss.
When she did, Professor Snape moaned and proceeded to set her world on fire, and it was as if something 'clicked' and settled into place within her.
It was the potion. It had to be.
This is not normal! her mind screamed. He wouldn't be doing this—she wouldn't be doing this without the potion.
But her body, her traitorous body didn't care. She had to be touched, and it had to be him that touched her. No one else would do.
His hand left her nape and began traveling down her back before finding and cupping her bottom in a caress that set gooseflesh pebbling everywhere his skin touched hers.
His other hand ran teasingly up her waist to cup her breast, and her nipple instantly drew taut and aching.
Is this what desire—true desire—was?
If so, she was done for.
Professor Snape let her go, and for a moment she thought he'd come to his senses, but then he drew her more fully within his embrace, changing her center of balance so she was reliant on him to keep her upright. And his mouth trailed down along her jawline and neck, giving teasing, nibbling kisses.
His lips continued to travel down, feasting, and she closed her eyes in surrender as he captured one of her breasts in his mouth, tugging lightly on her nipple with his teeth. And never had she felt such… never had she imagined that—she moaned, her body fully awakening to passion.
Only one thought registered—MORE! She needed more!
She reached to draw him closer, but with a strangled cry, Professor Snape tore his mouth from her breast, and setting her back on her feet, immediately backed up three paces and turned away from her.
Her breathing ragged, Hermione shook her head, trying to dispel the potion's effects. He had just kissed her—Professor Snape had just given her her first truly adult kiss. …as well as done other truly adult things to her.
And oh, sweet blessed Morgana, she'd never felt more alive! And she had no idea if it was because of him or because of the potion.
Pull yourself together, she told herself. He's a mean-tempered, waspish, BRUTISH man. He's your most-loathed PROFESSOR!
She looked over to find him with his backside to her, his back ramrod straight, absolutely not looking at her.
And moments ago he'd claimed her, kissing neck, her breast, unfolding her passion and making her want to….
But this wasn't reality; it was a mirage as was everything in this place. And knowing Professor Snape's temperament, she knew he would likely take this badly, embarrassment no doubt triggering his anger.
Biting her kiss-swollen bottom lip, Hermione looked at the back of the man who most certainly would lash out at her and perhaps even blame her for what had happened between them. "Professor," she led softly, her voice as neutral as she could make it. "It was the potion's effects."
"I know, girl!" he hissed, his tone acid. Oh, yes. He was positively livid. "Stay close!" he barked as he began to walk away, and he made no move to turn around to see if she followed.
Feeling her cheeks begin to scald as embarrassment took hold, Hermione did as ordered and stayed one step behind him as he began to navigate them onward.
But as she did so, she gave herself a mental shake. What happened between them wasn't her fault. In point of fact, he'd kissed her. It hadn't even occurred to her to kiss him, and that realization set her to blushing fiercely. It was this place! It was the potion, she urged herself.
It was the circle of hell they were in…
However, if the potion was a derivative of the 'Wish Elixir', and their repressed wants and wishes were being made manifest…
She bit her lip.
Perhaps, even without the inducements of the potion, Professor Snape foundher attractive. And that meant he had noticed her as a woman and not just his bothersome student. And in the remembrance of his claiming of her mouth and the palming of her backside, his lips fastened to her breast, making her want to…
Oh yes, and she could fancy him back just as much.
And as this realization struck, she closed her eyes.
She could say absolutely nothing on the matter. If he was half as embarrassed as she by their behavior, then it would only serve to embarrass them further.
The scenery around them started to shift, becoming more ludicrous the further on they stepped. Piles of galleons, mounds of obscure tomes of muggle and magical lore to tempt her. Was that really the library at Alexandria?! Hermione craned her neck to see.
"Miss Granger!" Professor Snape barked, and she jumped. Still, he did not turn around to face her. "Keep your eyes on my back, and do not deviate one inch from where I step."
"Yes, sir," she said, her tone chastened.
"As to what's happened between us," he spoke, his tone one of hesitancy mixed with embarrassment, "I want to apologize. What happened—"
"—was induced by the potion we ingested," she broke in, "and that's the end of it."
He stopped walking, and she bumped into his back.
Finally turning around, Professor Snape looked down at her, his gaze assessing, and Hermione realized he was trying to read her thoughts.
In light of recent revelations, however, she was occluding very strongly. But still he stared, his onyx eyes peering into hers.
"Very well," he said with some relief. "Walk with me," gesturing she should walk beside him. He began to lecture, reverting back to the role of her professor, saying, "That was the antidote to the lethality portion of the Wish Elixir, but temptation still remains." And yes, even now, Hermione was finding it difficult not to reach out to touch him in some way. She put her hands behind her back.
He continued, "The nature of this circle is about restlessness. The lustful are never contented with what they have and must insist on more."
Blushing, she ducked her head, remembering all too well when she'd wanted more scant minutes ago. Thankfully, if he noticed, he didn't comment.
He continued, "They can never find peace and must instead move restlessly, forever circling what they want, never attaining satisfaction."
She looked around.
A four-poster bed had followed them as had her want for food. And anytime they stopped, a veritable banquet surrounded them with the bed appearing not a moment later. And for the first time, Hermione realized sleep might not be the only thing on Professor Snape's mind.
Again, the thought set her to blushing as awareness grew, but she forced herself to occlude the embarrassment away and focus on the problem at hand. "So, if our basest desires are being made manifest, how can we counteract them?"
"By resisting temptation until the potions wear off. Remember, Salazar Slytherin is a sadistic bastard and wants nothing more than to see us fail. These temptations, after the antidote, are less personal but still tempting."
And Hermione looked at the bacchanalia in front of them: food, sex, money, rest. Good Christ! 'Rest' was so appealing, and she felt herself hesitate as she looked back at the bed. Professor Snape's hand was at her arm in an instant, drawing her away. He put his other arm around her ushering her on, and Hermione was grateful for his touch as it grounded her, making it easier for her to resist temptation.
However, neither of them drew apart as they walked on, and Hermione became hyper-attuned to his hands upon her bare flesh.
The hand at her back began a gentle caress, his fingers sweeping up and down, going further and further south with each pass until he was once more cupping her backside before slowly drawing back up in a firm-handed massage.
Her mouth went dry, and on his next pass downward, she stopped walking to turn and look up at him, uncertainty in her eyes warring with desire.
He removed his hands from her as if she scorched him, placing them behind his back, and looked at her in embarrassed shame.
Hermione shook her head and said, "It's the potion, professor. Let's move on."
A steaming Roman bath suddenly appeared before them—every bit as tempting as the Prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts, and she bit her lip. Alright, so this was her want, she knew it. She scrubbed tiredly at her eyes before saying, "This level sucks, sir!"
"This is hell. It's not meant to be a garden party."
"Still, it'd be nice to catch a break." Hermione averted her eyes from the bath as they passed it by.
On they walked in silence with the bed and Bacchanalian feast trailing after them while tempting sight after tempting sight presented itself in front of them. Professor Snape spoke, breaking the silence, "I have a question for you, Miss Granger."
She looked at him inquiringly.
"Your parents… that's twice now you've been approached by them in this place, and upon putting your interactions together in context, it seems as if you've become permanently estranged from them. Tell me why."
She swallowed thickly before answering, "Last summer, I obliviated their memories of me and sent them to live in Australia. With my being muggle-born as well as being friends with Harry, I didn't want them being targeted."
"So, you orphaned yourself." He looked at her, his expression grave but non-judgmental. He seemed to decide on something before saying, "If it's any consolation, you did them a good deed. The Dark Lord had plans to use them to get to you and Potter. Had you not sent them away, your parents would've been captured and tortured before experiencing a most gruesome death."
Feeling tears spring to her eyes, she quickly turned away before they could fall and said softly, "It's a comfort, then, to know. Thank you, sir."
He nodded, and on they walked in silence, the bed, galleons, and feast following them. At length, she looked up at him and said more to distract them than anything, "What would you buy with all the galleons surrounding us?"
There were piles and piles. Enough to live richly for the rest of their lives. At first Professor Snape looked put off by her question, but then said, "Before this morning, I would've said my freedom if such a thing were possible, but then your meddling has quite gotten me that."
Hermione smiled fully up at him, and she saw his expression was wry. Still, she cautioned, "Well, try not to put the carriage before the thestral. This is only the second level, sir. We've still got seven more to go…"
Looking around, she saw the scenery had morphed to include a palm tree, sand, and the cawing of seagulls in the distance. She could just hear the sounds of the sea beyond, and a hammock appeared right in front of them. "Alright, this is getting ridiculous!" she said. "When will the potion wear off?"
"We're almost there. Have patience," he chided. "Besides, we've yet to talk about the next circle and what to expect." He led them over to the palm tree, and the scenery began to morph again, this time becoming the Forbidden Forest with all manner of potions ingredients waiting to be harvested.
"Gluttony." She looked pointedly at the food following them and then back up at him.
"Again, the sin is not always about the obvious. Sexual gratification, as you can see is just one aspect of 'lust'," he said. "That's the easiest answer. Gluttony is about satiation. The gluttonous are never satisfied, always wanting more."
"Then lust and gluttony are practically the same," she said.
He shook his head. "Wrong. Those committing the sin of lust always have a wandering eye for something better whereas the gluttonous know exactly what they want. They are able to attain what they desire, and it's this what leads to their downfall."
"A 'be careful what you wish for' mentality, then?" she asked.
He nodded. "They are not chasing after the idea but are instead mired in what they have to excess of it."
"And yet," she said, her tone one of disgust, "that's not all they're mired in, is it, sir?"
Again, the roman bath appeared before them, and Hermione quickly averted her eyes from it. But then she did a double-take and looked back. It appeared to be less substantive—almost translucent in parts. She reached for it, and Professor Snape caught her hand and drew her away.
On they walked with him still holding onto her hand, the pad of his thumb lightly caressing the back of her palm. And she didn't think he realized he was doing it. "To say we might have to wallow in filth would be an understatement," he continued.
She snorted. "This next level is purported to be a human cesspit. Alright, and what of the Cerberus guarding the gate?"
Squeezing her hand, he let her go, before explaining, "We'll have to take care of it in the moment. Have you kept up with your flames?"
In answer, Hermione crooked a finger, and her jars of blue-bell flame followed obediently behind them.
"Good. Then that's to our advantage. It shouldn't be too much longer now, so prepare yourself."
Even as he said the words, a door appeared in front of them. It was gilded in gold and looked very heavy. She looked up at Professor Snape questioningly. "Do you think it's a mirage too?"
He shook his head. "I don't think so. Look around you. In the last few moments the scenery has turned translucent, almost completely invisible."
Hermione wished for a hair elastic, and it appeared before her. Reaching for it, she found it to be intangible.
"For this next level, I'd like to fly us into the gate." He opened his arms expectantly, and she stepped into his embrace, shivering with pleasure as her body tucked neatly into his, bare chest to breast with their thighs touching. The want for his touch had not abated in the slightest, and she noticed he drew her closer, putting them in more contact than was strictly necessary to see her secured safely within his arms.
He lifted her and began hovering them a foot off the ground.
She hissed, 'Door Open' in parseltongue, and the door to the third circle of hell slowly opened into darkness. Looking up at him in uncertainty, Professor Snape looked resolutely ahead as he flew them through the gate.
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A/N: More soon. Reviews make me want to write more. *nudge, nudge. Wink, wink*
—K