The Ring Chapter 2, a harry potter fanfic

The Ring Part 2

Dusk was falling over the island. Hermione decided that she'd like to stretch her legs a bit and told Petra she was going to take a walk around the town. Petra told her fine but to be back within the hour, because she locked the inn down early. Hermione agreed, and stepped out into the graying evening. She didn't notice Ketri, leaning against a wall between two shops. Hermione started walking toward the mountain. The one-eyed wizard followed her.

Raucous had not yet returned. Hermione wasn't worried. The raven probably found something to amuse himself with. She exited the village and the cobblestone turned to a dirt road. The mountain loomed ahead, and the terrain began to change. Small outcrops of rocks and bushes dotted the area, growing denser as she approached the mountain's base. She stopped by a large stone and sat down on it, looking at the path that led up the mountain. This was where she would start tomorrow. It began to get darker, so Hermione decided to head back before Petra locked down for the night

Hermione had only taken a few steps when suddenly she was grabbed from behind, and felt the edge of something cold pressed hard to her throat.

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to walk alone in the dark?" Ketri said against her ear, pressing his body against her tightly. He had one arm wrapped around the witch's torso, the other held a wickedly sharp dagger to her throat.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked in a trembling voice. She could feel the edge of the blade pressing against her neck. "I don't have any money on me."

Ketri laughed and licked Hermione's ear, causing the witch to shudder.

"Money? I have no need for money, pretty witch. You have something my employer wants…and something I want," he said, pressing his loins against Hermione suggestively.

"I don't have anything. Please let me go!" Hermione said, horrified. By the way this man was pressing against her, he was going to rape her, and maybe kill her. She had nothing with which to protect herself.

"You have the ring…and you have your virtue," Ketri hissed against her ear. "I want both." He ground his hips against her lewdly, and tears welled up in Hermione's eyes.

"Close your eyes. If you keep them closed, I may let you live after I am through with you," Ketri said, "If you look at me, I will beat you, then I will kill you."

Hermione closed her eyes tightly and felt the knife lower from her throat. Ketri turned her around to face him.

"First, pretty witch, your ring," he said, taking her hand and grasping the ring with his thumb and forefinger. Hermione felt a strange sensation around her finger as he touched the ring. Suddenly Ketri let out a curse and flung Hermione away from him, staggering back, his knife falling to the ground as he clutched his hand in agony.

"It…it…bit me!" he cried.

Hermione opened her eyes. She recognized Ketri as the man from the inn. Not waiting to see what happened to him, Hermione bolted back down the path, toward the village and soon put distance between her and Ketri.

The wizard staggered about, clutching his hand and cursing. The pain seemed to spread from his fingers, to his entire hand. It flowed up his arm over his shoulder and cascaded down his body. The one-eyed wizard began to writhe and scream in agony, falling to the ground. He had never felt such pain. He screamed even louder as his blood began to boil in his veins, his arms and legs buckling wildly, propelling his body across the rocky earth. He called on the gods for help, but they did not hear him. His chest was on fire and he clutched at it, rolling into a ball, his limbs twisting terribly, splintering and breaking through his flesh. He stopped screaming, and shuddered several times before falling still. He lay there a moment. There was a final heave and Ketri was dead.

Then his body began to tremble violently. A blue flame erupted from his mouth, nostrils and ears. It washed over the dead wizard's body in a great flare. And then, he was gone. Not even ash remained.

Hermione ran, and felt her ring grow very warm for a moment. Then it cooled. She ran up the steps and into the inn. Petra was behind the bar and looked up at the terrified witch. She came from behind the counter quickly.

"Hermione, what happened?" she asked the distraught witch. Hermione was gasping and couldn't answer her. Petra helped the witch to a nearby table and walked back behind the bar and poured a small shot of strong liquor into a glass and carried it back to the table.

"Drink this," she said, holding the glass to Hermione's lips. Hermione drank it down, then coughed as the harsh liquor burned its way down her throat. Petra patted her back gently. Hermione blinked back the tears that threatened to fall as her breathing began to ease. Her hands still shook.

"What happened Hermione?" Petri asked again, pulling a chair close to the trembling witch, and taking one of her hands in her own, trying to calm her.

"That man. The one who was in here today, eating. He attacked me by the mountain. He put a knife to my throat and said he wanted the ring. And me," Hermione said, her voice shaking.

"Ketri?" Petra said in disbelief.

"Yes. I saw him. It was the same man. He held a knife to my throat," Hermione said, lifting her head slightly. Petra could see a thin red line on the front of it. Something had happened to the witch…but Ketri? It seemed impossible. But then again, she had heard rumors that he made money in a wicked way. He was so nice, always flirting with her, that she didn't pay attention and waved the rumors off as idle gossip. Could he have attacked the witch? If he did, how did she get away?

"How did you escape him?" Petra asked Hermione. Hermione looked down at her ring.

"He pushed me away and yelled that the ring bit him. I ran," she replied, looking at the small snakes that made up the band. They still held each other mouth to tail. But she had felt a movement on her finger before Ketri touched the ring. Had the ring protected her?

Petra looked at the ring also. She knew it held great power. Maybe it had saved the witch.

"It is late now," Petra said soothingly to Hermione. "Tomorrow we shall tell the council what happened. They will take care of Ketri," the witch said, helping Hermione up. Just then Raucous soared into the inn and, on seeing Hermione looking distraught, landed on the table and cawed at her questioningly.

"I'm all right, Raucous. Just got in a bit of a tight spot," Hermione said to the bird weakly. Raucous didn't look like he believed her. He fluttered up the staircase and waited for Petra to walk the witch up, then hopped down the hall to their room and followed them in. Petra wriggled her fingers and turned up the lamps. She helped Hermione to the bed, then she walked over to the windows and lowered the shades. She turned to look at Hermione, who was already taking off her shoes and socks.

"You sleep now, Hermione," the witch said kindly, "Tomorrow we will report this to the council."

"I have to start my journey in the morning, Petra," she responded, pulling her shirt over her head.

"But they will need a statement from you about the attack," Petra said, putting her hands on her hips and frowning at Hermione. "If Ketri is a danger, they need to know."

Hermione looked down at the ring.

"I have a feeling Ketri isn't a danger to anyone anymore," Hermione said, her eyes hard.

Petra quailed a bit at the harsh look on the witch's face.

"Well, I will tell them then. They will find him and question him," Petra said, backing out of the room. "You get some sleep, dear."

The witch exited the room, closing the door behind her.

As she headed down the stairs, she wondered at the story Hermione told her. She said Ketri claimed the ring bit him. Maybe the witch had protection after all. She walked to the front door of the inn and closed it, locking it securely. It was time to turn in.

Snape had watched the attack on Hermione with a mixture of anger and horror. It was obvious his cousins knew about her, and had sent someone to take the ring. But it would not be easy to do. It was bound to Hermione and would destroy anyone who touched it with the intent of removing it without her permission. It had indeed bit Ketri.

Snape felt a cold rage in his belly at the wizard. He wanted to rape Hermione, the one-eyed bastard. Better that the ring got him. If Snape had been there, he would have castrated the wretch before running him through with his short sword. His nostrils flared. Suddenly his eyes widened as he watched Hermione undress. He knew he should avert his eyes and give the witch her privacy, but the lure of seeing her nude was just too much. He wasn't dead after all, and the throb he felt in his loins when she removed her bra and her full breasts came into view, proved he was very much alive.

The Potions Master watched as she removed her trousers and her knickers. He bit his lip as his dark eyes drank in her hips, buttocks and the small patch of chestnut hair. She was beautiful. He watched her climb into the bed and slide beneath the covers. She slept in the nude. He would have never imagined that. He always pictured her in a little granny gown for some reason. Well, she had dispelled that image.

Snape watched as she drifted off to sleep. He was about to will the image off when he saw a mist rising from the center of the witch's forehead. The mist filled the room, but also it passed through the cloud on which he watched Hermione, and filled the space he was in, enveloping him. What was this? He waved his hand through it, and it resisted him slightly. It continued to close over him, thickening. He found a purchase for his feet. He could walk. The mist thinned and cleared. Snape could move through it as if it were a place, another space. There wasn't much to see but he wandered through it for a while, glad to be on his feet instead of dangling endlessly. Suddenly he heard a voice. It sounded familiar and surprised.

"Professor?"

Snape spun around startled, and looked directly into the face of one Hermione Granger.

Snape felt his heart clutch.

"Hermione?" he asked, his black eyes fixed on the face of the witch with amazement

She blinked up at him and frowned a little.

"I know I must be dreaming, because you've never called me anything but Miss Granger since I've known you," she said.

"Yes, you are dreaming," Snape replied, wanting to see if he could touch her.

Hermione visibly relaxed then. She was dressed in her staff robes and had her wand in her hand. She looked around.

There certainly isn't much here," Hermione commented, looking at the empty gray space.

Snape considered her.

"Well, this is the stuff of your dreams, Hermione. Possibly if you imagine some other setting, it will appear," he said.

Hermione thought about the Professor's study. Suddenly the gray space pulsated, disorienting her, then she was in the study. A roaring fire was in the hearth. She looked around. The Professor wasn't there. Her face fell. She had so much she wanted to ask him.

Suddenly the wall slid up, and Snape walked through.

"Seems I was standing where the office appeared," he said, giving her a smirk. "But where are my pickled creatures? They're gone."

Hermione winced at having to tell him the new Potions Mistress removed them.

"Ah, so that's what happened to them," Snape commented. She looked at him. She hadn't said anything.

"I guess we don't need to actually talk. I saw an image of them being moved, probably from your mind," he said, walking closer to her. Hermione suddenly thought of his kiss, and Snape gave her a small grin.

"I see my kiss impressed you," he said in a low voice, his black eyes searching her face. It was so good to see her, to be close to her.

"Well, it startled me. You were the last person I ever expected to want to kiss me," she replied. Snape gave her a rather hot look for a dead wizard.

"As I said at the final battle, that was only one of the things I wanted to do to you," he said, his face sober for a moment. Then he offered her his arm.

"Come, let us sit and talk, Hermione," he said. The witch hesitated and took his arm, surprised that he felt solid and warm.

"I can feel you," she said, looking up at him.

The Professor found this quite interesting.

"Can you feel this?" he asked her, leaning down and kissing her lightly. Hermione's stomach did small loops at the contact.

"Yes," she breathed, "I definitely felt that," she said.

The Professor gave a wry grin and walked her over to the armchairs in front of the fire, and helped her into a chair, before taking the other one. He looked at her.

"You must have a lot of questions for me," he stated, his eyes sweeping over her, and remembering his little peep show. He felt a tightening in his loins. Yes, he was definitely still with the living as far as the witch was concerned.

"Yes, I do," Hermione said. She felt braver than she normally would. This was a dream after all and she could be candid with him.

"Professor, I get the distinct impression that you were interested in me beyond the interest of one associate in another," she said.

"Yes, Hermione. I was and am very attracted to you. I have been since your seventh year," Snape admitted.

"Why didn't you say anything? I mean, I understand when I was a student why you wouldn't, but once I returned to Hogwarts as a staff member, you could have said something then," she said.

Snape looked at her.

"Would you have returned my interest if I had, Hermione? As dark and ill-tempered as I am?" he asked her.

Hermione considered.

"You weren't dark or ill-tempered with me, Professor. I was quite shocked at the respect you showed me when I returned to Hogwarts. I was sure you'd be dismissive of me," Hermione stated, her amber eyes meeting his.

"You worked very hard to earn your degree, Hermione. Actually you worked hard from the first day you entered Hogwarts as a bushy-haired little know-it-all. I've always respected your mind, if not your choice of friends. They put you in more danger than necessary. I was rather surprised you made it to graduation. Your determination and brilliance got you the position on the Hogwarts staff. You deserved to be there. I had no problem accepting you. I was no longer your teacher, so I was no longer obligated to keep you on your toes," Snape said with a slight smirk.

"So why didn't you say anything?" she asked him.

"I was still in the service of the Dark Lord. To show an interest in you then would have placed you in great danger. I would never willingly place you in danger, Hermione," he said.

Hermione looked at him. She certainly was up to her neck in danger right now.

"I don't know if that's completely so, Professor. Fulfilling your last request is shaping up to be pretty dangerous. I was almost robbed and raped tonight. The man wanted your ring, as well as my virtue," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"But he did neither, did he?" the Professor responded, "The ring protected you. It will always protect you, until…"

"Until what, Professor," she asked. There was a condition on the ring's protection?

"Until you complete my last request. Then you will no longer require it to protect you," he said obtusely. "It will no longer be necessary."

"Why?" she asked.

Snape hesitated. "I hesitate to tell you that at this point, Hermione. Suffice it to say that it will help you reach the ancestral tomb. It will also assist you in completing the task of returning the box. Trust me," Snape said, taking her hand in his and kissing it.

Hermione looked at him.

"Why did you ask me to travel without magic, Professor? I have no way to protect myself," Hermione said frowning at him. "I'm in a strange land full of strange people, heading for a strange place, and I am defenseless when everyone around me has magic," she said.

"You have nothing to fear from the citizens of Mu, with the exception of my cousins, who will want the ring from you. I requested you not travel with your wand because magic triggers many of the protections on the mountain. They were made to stop the citizens from reaching Snape Manor and attacking it. Since they are inherently magical, the protections immediately attacked them. In your case, though you are inherently magical also, you require a wand and spells to activate your power. You do not radiate it as the Lemurians do. Most of the protections will not react to you. The ones that do, the ring will help you past them. That is why I asked you not to travel with magic. Your charms are inanimate, they will not trigger the protections either." Snape explained.

All right. That made sense. Now she was curious about his ancestry.

"Were you born on Mu, Professor?" she asked.

"No, Hermione. My part of the family left Mu many generations ago. My people were of the ruling caste, much different than the workers both in appearance and power. When the continent sank, my family began to fight among themselves, primarily over the ring. Battles and feuds ensued, with immediate families occupying different parts of the Manor, which is huge. There were poisonings, stabbings and all type of murder and injury between them. Finally my grandfather many times removed, secured the ring and using its power, took his family from Mu. The rest of the family could not follow him. The restrictions on Mu still retain their power and no one can just leave and enter. It is said the family originally settled in the Mediterranean, then migrated to other parts of the world from there. I was born and raised in England, just as you were. However, I was the first of our generation in hundreds of years to be born with full ancestral powers, the powers of the overseers."

Hermione drew in a deep breath. That was why he was able to destroy the deatheaters the way he did. He had the full power of the Lemurians running through his veins. The Professor continued.

"I was quickly schooled not to reveal them, as the wizards and witches here had no abilities as I did. My father taught me control and discipline over them so they would not manifest when I became angry or excited. Since I was still a wizard, I received my letter from Hogwarts and attended the school, learning the magical techniques and spells practiced here. The combination of spells and incantations made me even more powerful. I was hell-bent to conceal them, especially with the Marauders constantly harassing me. Harry was lucky he was ever born. I was tempted several times to blast his father to bits. Only my discipline saved him."

Snape grimaced at the memory. Potter had been a real thorn in his arse. He shook it off and continued to speak, wanting to satisfy the witch's curiosity about him completely. He had never told anyone his history before. Yet, he felt it important that she know as much as possible about him. He continued.

"I was very interested in Potions rather than wand-waving, simply because of my nature, and so that was the course of study I chose. My parents died when I was in my fourth year, and the ring was passed on to me. My father had never used its power, so neither did I. There was no reason. I was powerful enough without it. After my parents' death, Albus tried to take me under his wing. But he was a Gryffindor, and I was a Slytherin. I didn't appreciate his kindness and joined the Dark Lord. When I sought to break away from Voldemort, Albus enlisted me as a spy and gave me the position of Potions Master. You know the rest."

He fell silent.

Hermione stared at the Professor, fascinated. So much rich history behind the wizard. He had been even more powerful than Albus, and maybe Voldemort. She wondered how he died.

"Professor, how did you die?" she asked him.

He looked at her, his black eyes going liquid. A quiet fire burned behind them.

"Killing Voldemort," he replied, "I had to die with him in order to remove him from the wizarding world."

Hermione gasped. He had made the ultimate sacrifice for all of them. And no one knew but her. Yet, this was only a dream. She could be imagining all of it. But it just seemed too detailed, and the Professor seemed too real.

"Professor, are you a figment of my imagination?" she asked him.

Snape looked at her. Should he reveal his status to her? If he did so, then that would be tantamount to revealing her entire purpose. No, he would have to keep the secret for now. He stood up and took her hands and drew her up to him.

"Do I feel like a figment, Hermione?" he asked her softly.

"No," she whispered, the warmth of his hands seeming to run up her arms and wash over her body. She swayed a little.

Snape studied the witch, then asked the question that had been left unanswered.

"Hermione, if I had told you of my interest in, my desire for you, would you have accepted me?' the Potions Master asked, his eyes fixed on her face.

This was a dream. Hermione could be honest in a dream. It wasn't as if this was the wizard himself. He was gone, beyond her.

"Professor, I was always attracted to you. Intellectually and physically. You were dark, dangerous, courageous and incredibly sexy. I am certain I would have accepted you, if you had only told me how you felt," she replied, blushing at her own forwardness.

Snape wished he had known how the witch had felt about him. But no matter, he knew now.

"So," he said, "If I were alive, and had told you my feelings…do you think we would have become lovers? Would be lovers now?" His pale fingers caressed the back of her hands as he asked her this question.

Hermione flushed, her whole body turning crimson.

"I think there was a good chance you would have been the one to deflower me, Professor," she said, her heart pounding as she looked into his face, and saw the desire there. Why did this have to be a dream?

The Professor felt a powerful pulse of lust wash over him at the witch's answer. This was a dream, but they could feel each other. For a moment he thought of seducing her. Even dream-sex would probably be quite satisfying. But, since he was not actually dead, if he deflowered her even in a dream, would that alter her virgin status? She was going to need that on her journey. He sighed mentally. He couldn't take the chance.

Hermione watched as a number of emotions passed over the face of the Professor, all of them making her belly feel full of lacewings. This was a dream. She could do things with the Professor that she would never have dared do in the real world. She looked up at him.

"Professor, would you kiss me again?" Hermione asked him.

He lifted an eyebrow. She was asking him to kiss her. Obviously she was attracted to him.

"Certainly, Hermione," he replied silkily. He pulled her into his arms gently, and lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers. They were warm, soft and willing. Snape felt himself swelling as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and by Hermione's gasp, she felt it too. But she didn't draw away, on the contrary, she pressed into him.

The Professor ravaged the witch's mouth, exploring every part of it hungrily. Without knowing it, he began to move against her, rubbing his body against hers sensually, suggestively. Hermione began to pant against his mouth, and her arms drew him tighter to her as she moved against him as well. The Professor's hands slipped down her back, caressing it, before sliding over the swell of her buttocks. She made a little moan as he gripped her and pulled her against him, walking her back to the wall just on the side of the fireplace. Excited, his mouth slipped from her lips to her throat. He could taste her flesh. This was too real. The Professor was quickly losing himself and tried to draw back.

"Hermione, we need to stop," he growled down at her. But her amber eyes were alight with desire.

"Why?" Hermione breathed, pulling him back against her body, "This is just a dream, Professor. We can do what we want and it won't hurt anything. My virtue will remain intact in my waking state."

Snape wasn't sure about that. He allowed himself one more searing kiss and pulled away from the witch with effort. Hermione scowled at him, all heated up and wanting more.

"If you were prudish like this in life," Hermione said angrily, "then we probably wouldn't be lovers after all."

Snape's eyes flashed and he caught her wrist rather painfully. Hermione gasped as he leaned his face toward her's. It was contorted with powerful emotion.

"I assure you, Hermione. I am no prude. I could do things to you that would make you get religion," he seethed, "but…now is not the right time." He released her.

Hermione rubbed her wrist. Dream or not, that hurt. Still she wondered what he could possibly do to her that would make an agnostic like her, actually worship something.

"What do you mean, it's not the right time. It's a dream, damn it! Time doesn't matter here," she stated. The Potions Master looked at her, then sighed.

"It matters in your world, Hermione. You must fulfill my last request. And then perhaps, if you are still willing…we might finish…this," he said, his black eyes glittering at her. It was quite clear he'd like nothing better to indulge her desire.

Hermione was about to say something when the room and the Professor began to fade.

"No! Not yet! I don't want to wake up yet!" she cried reaching for the Professor, but her arms passed right through him. He looked at her, a small smirk on his face.

"You'll see me again, Hermione," he said, his voice sounding hollow and distant now.

"When?" she cried after him as he faded out. His voice floated back to her.

"In your dreams," he replied.

Hermione woke up gasping in her bed, startling Raucous who was perched on her headboard, his head tucked under his wing. He looked at her and cawed, concern in his beady black eyes as he blinked at her. Hermione twisted her head to look at the raven.

"I'm sorry, Raucous. I just had a dream about your former master," she said, "It was so realistic. It almost turned into a wet dream."

Raucous made a noise when she said this. Hermione wasn't sure if it was meant to be laughter or disgust. She snuggled back under the covers, hoping to dream about the Potions Master again, and maybe finish what she started.

Snape was again drifting among the stars and looking at the witch trying to return to the dream. He watched as she fell asleep, but no mist arose as her breath rose and fell. She was in a dreamless sleep this time. Snape was relieved. She had been quite seductive overall. He doubted he could have resisted her a second time, not after coming so close.

He looked at the witch, and felt his chest constrict. She wanted him. Even though she thought he was dead. Well, if she successfully completed this journey, Hermione would get what she wanted, and then some.

Hermione awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. Raucous was bright-eyed and spread-tailed and cawed a loud greeting at the witch, hopping down on the bed and immediately beginning to preen her tangled hair. He caught a snag and Hermione let out a little shriek and waved him away. The raven fluttered back up to the headboard, but didn't look nearly as penitent as he should. He then hopped on to the windowsill and let out another caw, presumably to go out. Hermione rolled out the bed and raised both shades, then opened one of the windows. Raucous took off.

"Be sure to be back here soon, Raucous!" she called after him, "we have to hit the mountain this morning." A caw answered her. Hermione closed the window. Raucous could enter the inn through the front door on his return.

Hermione stretched, yawned and scratched, then headed for the small shower. This might be the last good wash she'd have in days, so she scrubbed up good, getting all the nooks and crannies. Her mind turned to the Professor as her hands moved over her body, and she slowed down a bit at the thought of the dream wizard kissing and pressing against her. She felt a small tingling between her legs, and worked to relieve it. She did, with a gasp.

A gasp that was almost matched to the moment by the voyeur Snape, who once again found himself watching her through the mist image. Just watching the water run between the cleft of her breasts, and over her thighs was almost overwhelming. The Potions Master had never expected to see the chaste Gryffindor witch masturbate. There were distinct advantages to being in a half-life state. But as Snape watched Hermione dry her delicious body, he dearly wished he were in the flesh, if only for a few moments. He hoped that she would get up the mountain quickly, and that his cousins would be caught unaware, since their spy was undoubtedly dead. The quicker she got there, the quicker he could leave this place and return to her. What a heated return that would be. As far as Snape was concerned, Hermione had already accepted him as a lover, and his first act, other than returning them to England, would be to consummate their relationship as quickly as possible. He had waited years.

Snape watched as Hermione dressed in layers. Very wise, the mountain could be cold at night. The weather was always temperate during the day, and there were no true winters in Mu, the climate control of the original continent still active and in place. It stayed at a relatively steady rate of twenty-one degrees Celsius during the day, but lowering slightly during the winter months. Whether the coldness of the mountain nights was a part of the protection, no one knew.

Hermione hoisted her pack onto her back and exited her room, locking the door. She would leave the key with Petra. She planned to have a hearty breakfast and set out on her way. She walked down the hallway and turned down the stairs. When she reached the main floor she noticed Petra behind the bar talking to three gray-haired gentlemen in hushed tones who were sitting on stools and drinking some steaming liquid out of cups. It didn't smell like coffee. It had more of a woody aroma. Not unpleasant though.

Petra saw Hermione and said something to the men, who turned to look at her. They were older, rather dignified looking gentlemen. The fabric of their tunics and trousers were very fine. They nodded soberly at Hermione, who removed her pack and set it on the floor by the stairs and walked over to them. Petra came from behind the bar, and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Good morning, Hermione. These are three elders from our village council. I sent Peter for them this morning with a note telling what you said happened to you last night with Ketri. He was looked for by his home, but he was not there and no one has seen him this morning, which is unusual, because he is always out and about from morning until evening," Petra said, looking sober.

Hermione nodded at the three elders, and they nodded back, their brown eyes taking in her features and strange clothing. All three sets of eyes dropped to the ring and widened.

"You spoke the truth, Petra," one of the elders said. He held out his hand to Hermione.

"May I examine your ring?" he asked her. Hermione placed her hand in his, and the elder placed his face very close to her hand, studying the ring, turning her hand over to inspect the band. After a few moments, he released her hand and stared at her.

"This was given you by a Snape?" he asked her, his bushy gray brows drawn together.

"Yes sir," Hermione answered.

"And you go up the mountain today?" he asked her, looking over at her pack.

"Yes sir, right after I eat," Hermione responded.

Petra excused herself and rushed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the witch, leaving her alone with the elders.

Another elder spoke.

"You have been given a great power. Obviously you have a great quest to fulfill as well," the elder said, "But we feel it our duty to tell you that no one who has ever started on that mountain path has ever returned. Whether they died or were taken into the Manor, we do not know. We advise you not to take this journey," he said, looking at Hermione with a small scowl.

"I have been duly warned, sir. Twice." Hermione said, remembering Petra also asking her not to go.

"There is a reason we ask that you do not go. The ring. It would be bad indeed if the Snapes regained it," another elder said.

"They will not take it. It belongs to me," Hermione said, a rather stubborn look on her face.

"It has long been rumored that Ketri worked for the Snapes as a spy, and an assassin on occasion, though we have no proof of that. This was our first lead to possibly proving Ketri a danger to our citizens. But we cannot find him. We think we never will," the elder said, looking at the ring again. "But if he were indeed after your ring, then it is safe to say the Snapes are aware of your presence on Mu, and you are in grave danger. Again we ask that you not take this journey," the second elder said.

Hermione looked at all three wizards.

"I am afraid I must do this. It is the last wish of a very great wizard. Not to do so would dishonor his memory. I hope you will not try to hinder me," Hermione said, looking from one to the other.

"No, we would not. That is not our way," the third elder sighed.

Petra came out of the back of the inn, carrying a plate of food and a steaming mug. Hermione looked over at her. The witch's stomach growled audibly. The three wizards looked at her and waved her on.

"Go and eat your meal. We will pray to the gods for your success," the first elder said. The three wizards left the inn as Hermione made her way over to the table and sat down. As if on cue, Raucous soared through the open door and alighted on the table next to Hermione's plate, eyeing her food hungrily. Hermione looked at her plate. There were eggs, what appeared to be ham, and a large piece of the crusty bread she had yesterday. It smelled delicious.

"Thank you, Petra," Hermione said.

Petra gave her a slight smile.

"I have packed some dried meat and bread for your journey," she said, producing a small bag from her apron pocket and placing it on the table. "Though I wish you would not go."

Peter ran in the front door and straight to Hermione's table.

"Mama says you are going up the mountain, Hermione. Do not go! It is bad there. You won't come back!" he said, his brown eyes glistening. Hermione reached out and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. He smelled of the ocean. He must have been on the beach.

"I will be fine, Peter. I have protection," she said.

The boy narrowed his eyes at her.

"You have no magic. You can't be safe," he said accusingly.

"I have other things that will help me. Don't worry. I will be back," she said softly.

Peter stared at her a moment, a black scowl on his face. Then he ran to the back of the inn, clearly upset. Petra looked after him.

"Don't mind, Peter. He likes you and Raucous. He doesn't understand you have something important to do. He is afraid that you won't come back, like his father didn't come back," Petra said softly, sitting down across from Hermione.

"Did he disappear on the mountain?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed.

"No," Petra replied, "He was trying to draw in his nets during a storm and his boat capsized, and was broken up against the rocks. His body was never found, but we believed the sea took him. Peter was four then. He would spend hours on the shore, looking for his father, waiting for him to return. One day he came home and told me his father was gone forever. His heart was broken. The idea of losing someone else he knows frightens him."

"I will come back and show him I'm all right," Hermione promised.

Petra smiled and patted her hand.

"I hope you do, Hermione," the Lemurian said.

Raucous had made short work of Hermione's ham and was busily devouring her eggs.

"Raucous, you selfish, greedy little thief!" Hermione scolded him. Raucous cawed at her and flew to the bar with her crusty bread.

Petra laughed. "Don't worry. I will bring you more, Hermione. It seems Raucous expected his own meal after yesterday."

Raucous stopped eating the bread long enough to caw in agreement, then continued pecking, tearing and devouring his ill-gotten gains.

Petra returned with another plate of food, which Hermione wrapped one arm protectively around as she ate, observed by Raucous from the bar. It was clear that as far as his mistress was concerned, he had eaten his fill.

Breakfast done, Hermione walked over to her pack, hoisted it on her back and handed a sad-faced Petra the key to her room. Petra kissed her on both cheeks, and Hermione exited the inn and started up the road toward the mountain trail, Raucous flying before her.

It was all or nothing now.

Venoma sat by the window, shading her eyes from the sun and scanning the skies. Ketri had not yet responded. She should have heard something by now. The greedy wizard never wasted time reported. Information was Croupkas after all. The witch had a bad feeling about this.

Vivaldi sat in the armchair, strumming his lyre and singing a melancholy song of unrequited love in a sweet tenor voice. Everything he composed was melancholy, reflecting the sadness in his heart concerning his unanswered longing for his half-sister. Venoma was aware of this, and encouraged his dark, brooding creations. It kept him focused on her to the exclusion of all else. If the young wizard were to have his heart drawn elsewhere, Venoma feared she might have to attend him in order to keep him lusting after her. She did not want to do this, but was not beyond committing incest to keep her standing in the House of Snape. It would be a necessary sacrifice. She glanced at the wizard. He was dark, intense, like most of the males of her house. It might not be an unpleasant sacrifice at any rate. She looked back out the window and frowned. She had waited enough. She placed her fingers on either side of her temples and concentrated.

"Ozmadias, come to me," she thought, summoning her familiar.

She opened the window and waited.

Several minutes later she saw the approaching speck. She smiled. The speck grew larger and the great copper bird fluttered outside the window, then crowded into the sill, lowering his head for a caress from his mistress.

"Ozmadias, Ketri has not returned," Venoma said, stroking his white crest lovingly, "I fear something has gone wrong. I want you to fly down the mountain and over the village and send me what you see."

The bird squawked and fell out the window, straightened himself and plummeted downward. He would watch for his mistress.

He would not fail her.

Raucous flew ahead of Hermione, arriving at the mountain path first. He settled on the large stone Hermione had sat upon the night before, when Ketri accosted her. The raven looked around. There was little more than stone, brush and a few trees. The bird looked up the mountainside, his sharp eyes taking in the rugged features of the mountain. He noticed an outcrop of stone, oddly colored. He looked closer.

Ozmadias looked down at the black bird standing on a rock at the beginning of the mountain path. He didn't move but just watched as the bird streaked off as if pursued by birdie devils. He decided to change his position and flapped over a few feet where a jagged piece of stone jutted out, leaving a shadowed depression. He hopped down and shouldered his bulk into it. Now he could see the path, but anyone on it would not see him. He hunkered down.

Raucous streaked back to Hermione, cawing loudly. He settled on her shoulder and made such a racket, Hermione stopped.

"What's wrong, Raucous?" she asked.

The bird continued to squawk, shifting from one leg to the other and frantically preening Hermione's hair, which resulted in him pulling strands from her ponytail.

"I don't understand," Hermione said. Raucous hopped to the ground and stared at Hermione, focusing as best he could. Hermione looked back at him. Suddenly, fuzzily she began to perceive an image. It was of a huge copper colored bird, at least twenty meters high, with a curved beak and huge fangs protruding from it. It had blood-red eyes and blood dribbled from a corner of its mouth. It had curved and bloody swords for talons, and these too dripped blood.

Hermione was shocked. First that she had received an image, and second that it was so horrifying. Obviously Raucous was truly her familiar now and could send her images. She looked down at the raven.

"Raucous, did you see this creature on the mountain?" she asked him.

At first, Raucous nodded. Then he shook his head. The image in Hermione's head shrunk dramatically, lost the fangs and swords, and the eyes turned golden. The dripping blood disappeared too. It was still a rather large and frightening bird, but nothing like the first image the excited raven sent her.

"Ok, this is what you saw on the mountain," Hermione said to Raucous. The bird nodded. Hermione looked thoughtful. She really didn't know exactly how big the bird was or what kind it was. It was a bird of prey however, the wickedly curved beak and sharp talons showed that much. It shouldn't be a danger to her if it were a wild animal. But it could be a danger to Raucous.

"Raucous, that bird is a hunter. To it, you're food on the wing. You can go back to the village and wait for me to return. You'd probably be safer," Hermione said.

Raucous squawked indignantly. How dare she suggest he run away and leave her defenseless?

The raven hopped on her shoulder and cawed fiercely at the mountain. He wasn't going anywhere. He would just stay low and be wary. He was a good flyer, and there were trees and boughs to flit through. He knew how big the bird was. He could get into places it couldn't.

Hermione smiled at Raucous. He was going to stay with her.

"All right, but I want you to be careful and stick by me," she said. Raucous preened her hair again. Hermione waved at him and he fluttered in the air a moment before settling back on her shoulder.

"Stop preening my hair," Hermione said, stopping and removing her tie so she could fix her ponytail, "you keep pulling it out of the tie." Raucous cawed non-commitally.

Her hair tied back neatly, Hermione continued on until she came to the beginning of the mountain path. It was wide and ascended at a gentle slope. She would have no trouble hiking up it. A small stone rolled down the trail and stopped. Hermione didn't think anything of it, until the stone rolled back up the trail and disappeared around the bend.

"That was odd," Hermione said to Raucous who stared after the stone, his beak open. Hermione remembered what Petra had said about the stones and trees being animate. She took a deep breath, the ditty about sticks and stones breaking bones dancing about uncomfortably in her head.

"Let's go, Raucous," she said starting up the trail.

Ozmadias waited for them to get a distance away then stepped out of the cleft and soared strongly upward to the Manor. Mistress would want to see this.

Venoma was still sitting in the window seat, watching the skies. Vivaldi was sitting close behind her, playing in her raven tresses, lifting the weight of it and letting it fall over his pale hands. In his mind he imagined it wrapped around his body as he made love to his half-sister. It was his favorite fantasy image. He knew how to make love. He had several Lemurian concubines who doubled as servants that stayed in the Manor, orphaned girls provided by Ketri and brought up in a basket by Ozmadias. But they were unlike his sister. The women were short and rounded, with brown hair and brown eyes, not tall and slender with ebony locks and black eyes like Venoma. They had all the right parts however, and Vivaldi would possess them while fantasizing about his beautiful sibling.

He was drawing his hand through her hair for the umpteenth time when she stiffened, then leaned forward excitedly, throwing open the window. Ozmadias squeezed his bulk in, and lowered his head for his usual caresses. Vivaldi felt a stab of jealousy as his sister's lovely hands stroked the big, ugly bird.

"What news my pet?" she asked the bird gently. Ozmadias stared at her, sending the images of Hermione and Raucous walking up the mountain path. He also showed her the ring on Hermione's hand. Venoma let out a little scream of delight, kicking her feet, then hugging the great fowl around his neck.

"Thank you, Ozmadias. You have done well my pet," she said, kissing his beak. If birds could blush, Ozmadias would have been a deep shade of crimson. It seemed Venoma's appeal crossed the species line as well. Venoma released him.

"Go now and keep watch, Ozmadias. Tell me when the mountain has claimed her," she said. The bird nodded and dropped from the window. Vivaldi had listened to his sister in silence. Now that the bird was gone, he could find out what she learned.

"What? What is it, sister?" Vivaldi asked, rising from behind the witch and walking around to face her.

"The deliverer is on her way up the mountain path, my brother," Venoma said excitedly. "She is wearing the ring! We only need wait till the mountain takes her, and send Ozmadias to pluck the ring off her cold, dead hand."

Vivaldi smiled, then frowned.

"What if she makes it up the mountain, sister? What if she makes it to the tomb?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "The ring may protect her."

"She's not a Snape. The ring may do a little something, but the guardian will not manifest for her. She will need the guardian to survive," Venoma said wickedly. "I will be surprised if she survives the day. And if she somehow manages it…the night will take her for certain."

Vivaldi still looked doubtful.

"But sister, what if she does manage to get here. We must consider that possibility, no matter how small the chance of success is," the wizard said, his dark eyes meeting hers firmly. He was no longer so easy to sidetrack.

Venoma narrowed her eyes at him in displeasure.

"If she should make it, by some miracle, we will stop her at the tomb itself," Venoma practically hissed at Vivaldi. "She is traveling without magic after all. She will not be able to defend herself."

"But the ring…" Vivaldi said. Venoma cut him off.

"Damn the ring, Vivaldi. It will not protect her against its own," she spat.

Vivaldi wasn't certain of that. Severus had given her the ring, probably with his blessing. He wasn't sure how much power would manifest. His sister was becoming careless in her greed. He slid his eyes toward her. Venoma was looking out the window with a glazed look in her eyes. So beautiful. Well, he would protect her from herself. But once he got the ring…she would submit to him or he would cast her out. He was tired of waiting. He was the Lord of the Manor and all were to obey him. The ring would seal that. His black eyes shifted out the window to the blue sky beyond. He would restore the Manor to greatness. The Lemurians below would pay tribute again to the House of Snape, giving him a portion of all they produced in return for being allowed to live a peaceful existence. They would most likely refuse at first, but his powers would be intensified, strengthened by the ring and he would be merciless. The old ways would return. Then life would return to the way it should be.

Hermione had been walking up the path for a good two hours now, and there had been no attacks. On occasion a stone would roll by her, stop and return. If she had been a Lemurian, the stone would have recognized her as an intruder and initiated an avalanche. Without the magical signature, she was safe.

Raucous rode on her shoulder, looking around carefully for the big bird. He didn't like not knowing where it was. It was big enough to attack Hermione. Suddenly Hermione stopped.

A sound like distant thunder was drawing closer. She stopped and set her pack down, listening. The noise grew louder and she could make out a large cloud in the distance. The path was longer now. The mountain was huge and the trail seemed to extend straight out before her.

The cloud drew closer and she could make out shapes, moving swiftly. Her eyes widened.

Unicorns.

And they were charging down on her. Desperately, Hermione looked around for an escape. There was nowhere to run but back down the trail, and they would catch her quickly. There were no rocky ledges low enough to climb on. She was trapped. She stared in horror as the animals drew closer.

Hermione could see the leader, a magnificent white stallion with a long, shiny spiral horn leading the charge. He had to be eighteen hands high at the withers. He flew toward the witch, smoke blowing from his nostrils, his horn lowered to skewering height. His eyes seemed made of flame. Behind him, several more unicorns charged. There were silver foals too. And they all looked angry as they galloped toward her.

She had only been on the mountainside a couple of hours, and it seemed her time was up.

Above her, Ozmadias observed the happenings from a high outcropping, his sharp eyes watching the advancing unicorns close the distance between themselves and the witch. Would she be skewered or trampled? Probably both.

The mistress would be pleased.

Suddenly Raucous leaped off Hermione's shoulder and streaked toward the charging herd of unicorns.

"Raucous!" Hermione cried as the raven soared toward the animals. She watched as the bird began to beat around the head of the leader of the herd, worrying the animal until it stopped, tossing its great horn and pawing at the earth restlessly. Then Raucous did something amazing. He fluttered to the unicorn's back. Instead of bucking the raven off, the animal turned its head, listening as Raucous strutted and cawed. The unicorn tossed its head several times, and looked back at Hermione, lifting its head high as if scenting. It nickered and turned its head back to Raucous. The bird chattered a bit more, then flew back to Hermione, landing on her shoulder and watching the herd of unicorns intently.

The leader reared and spun on his back hooves in front of the herd, which duplicated his actions, then they charged up the mountain. Not up the path, but straight up the side of the mountain, running vertically over the crags and ledges at an impossible angle. Not one of them fell. They angled off and disappeared.

Hermione looked at the raven, who was preening himself rather proudly.

"Raucous, what did you do?" she asked the bird.

Raucous sent her an image of two ravens mating, then a big red "X" appeared over them, then her own image. Hermione had to think about it a second, then realized what the bird was trying to project.

"Ah, you told him I was a virgin," Hermione said, smiling and stroking Raucous. The bird stretched out his head as her hand smoothed over his glossy feathers.

"Good thing you told them, Raucous. I really don't think they were going to stop and find out if I was pure or not," Hermione said, looking up the mountain towards where the animals disappeared. "I wonder why they were attacking? Unicorns where we come from don't attack. They are shy and stay away from humans for the most part, though they do like virgins."

Raucous sent the image of a disemboweled and partially eaten unicorn foal. Hermione gasped and pushed the horrible and heartbreaking image out of her head.

"Something is killing foals," Hermione said, "Yes, I can see how they would be on the warpath. They are searching for the killer. Any strangers would immediately be suspect. Obviously they don't think a virgin would do such a thing."

She looked at Raucous.

"I'm glad you talked me into taking you with me, Raucous, or I'd probably be a corpse right now. Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. Raucous cawed as if it were nothing. But he felt rather proud. He had saved his mistress' life.

Hermione hoisted her backpack back on.

"Well, let's keep moving Raucous. I've miles to go before I sleep," she said, paraphrasing a line from Frost. The two headed up the trail.

From his perch, Ozmadias watched them leave. The mistress would not be pleased about this. The bird the strange witch traveled with turned the unicorn herd. Her wrath would be terrible. Ozmadias decided to continue to watch until he had better news to bring Venoma. Once she had singed his tail feathers for bringing her bad tidings. She was of a sweet disposition to him most of the time, but she still was a Snape. Snapes didn't like to be thwarted at anything. He took to the air, soaring high and catching a thermal. He would watch them from above.

Snape had watched Hermione facing the charging unicorn herd with his heart in his throat. He had been positive that her virgin status would protect her from Sewell. But the unicorn had been so enraged that he would have killed her first, then realized his error afterward. Thank the gods for Raucous. Mu had the most aggressive unicorns on earth. A unicorn from Mu would charge a hunter rather than wait for him to take a shot. They were surprisingly successful at killing hunters. Then they discovered the mountain could protect them from men and took up residence there, rather than the lowlands. It worked well for them.

Well, that was one protection down. Snape watched as Hermione made her way up the mountain. She had picked up a long thick limb and whittled off the branches with a little red folding knife that had an amazing amount of blades and doodads. Severus had never seen anything like it. She was using it as a staff since the trail was steeper now. She was quite the resourceful witch.

Snape felt his consciousness begin to drift again. He roused himself. He had to watch Hermione make this journey. So much rode on her success.

Night was falling and Hermione searched for a place to make camp. She found a grassy space slightly removed from the path. It was fairly level and near some trees, so she could gather wood for a fire. She removed her pack and used her staff to dig a depression in the earth. She gathered a bit of brown grass and twigs for kindling, then a few larger pieces of wood. It was nice and dry. Before long, she had a nice little fire going. She opened her pack and took out the pop tent, and pulled it out of its carrier. It sprang open, ready for business.

Hermione unrolled her sleeping bag, took out her warming stone and put both inside the tent, zipping it closed so it would retain heat. She then sat close to the fire and took out the bag of meat and bread Petra gave her for the journey. Raucous fluttered down beside the witch, looking at the bag with interest. Hermione handed him a strip of meat. The raven flew up to a branch above the camp and set to tearing the dried meat apart. It was tough, but he managed.

After finishing her meal and relieving herself, Hermione retired, putting out the fire and sealing the tent. She removed most of her clothing and slipped into the sleeping bag. She was exhausted. In moments, she was asleep. Outside, Raucous moved to the inner boughs of the tree he was planning to sleep in. If the big bird came for him, he would hear him struggling through the branches and have time to escape. Too bad he couldn't sleep with one eye open.

Snape watched Hermione to see if the dream mist would appear, but it didn't. Hermione was in a dreamless sleep again. It was just as well. She needed her rest. Snape had a feeling that their next encounter would largely consist of snogging and a very forced abstinence. He allowed his consciousness to drift while she slept.

Grog yawned a terrible, snaggle-toothed yawn, stretched his knotted muscles and scratched his tattered loincloth that hung loosely between his tree trunk-like legs. The ogre grabbed his club and exited his cave, kicking bones out of the way as he did so. He blinked into the night as his eyes adjusted. Yes, now he could see. Maybe tonight he could catch a sleeping unicorn. Or a bear. He had a terrible appetite. He threw his club over his shoulder and walked down the mountain path noiselessly. Ogres looked big and clumsy but they were quite light on their feet. Just because they were ten meters tall and made primarily of muscle was no reason to think they just barreled through the world. Sure, they might knock down a forest or two when enraged or in need of exercise but for the most part they were quiet creatures. They had to be. They were hunters. Carnivorous hunters. They only ate meat, preferably still wriggling

Grog sniffed the air. Hm. There was a strange but familiar scent wafting on the breeze. Human flesh. Something the ogre hadn't tasted for years. He smiled horribly, with all his large rotten teeth showing, and rubbed his enormously bulbous nose, then headed in the direction the scent was coming from. If it was a man, the ogre knew it would be an easy capture. One good bash with his club ought to do it. His victim would never see him coming. He hoped he didn't bash too hard. Meat tasted so much sweeter when it was screaming.

Herimone was sleeping peacefully, her head resting on her hands. She was so exhausted that she did not wake when the ring began to pulse with a blue light that quickly grew in intensity and strength. It pulsed faster and faster until the flashing became a steady glow that dimmed as Hermione shifted in her sleep, then brightened as she fell still.

Ozmadias was sitting on the mountainside, watching the campsite from his perch. His golden eyes showed no reaction as the tent lit up inside, but he cocked his head with interest as the glow intensified until it surrounded the small tent. It hovered a moment, then drifted a few meters away from the campsite, condensing into a dark solid shape and settling on the side of the mountain path. To the watching bird, it seemed as if the glow had simply extinguished itself, but a form sat there in the darkness. Waiting.

Grog picked up his pace, salivating as the scent of human flesh grew stronger. He moved noiselessly down the mountain path intent on a fast, hot, squirming meal. Ozmadias watched the ogre pass from his perch on the mountainside. He could barely make him out in the darkness, but he knew Grog. The ogre had come close to eating him once, stealthily climbing up the mountain as the large bird dozed. Only a misstep that dislodged a stone alerted Ozmadias to the great brute's approach and he barely got away, leaving a handful of tail feathers in Grog's knotty clutches. He had no love for the ogre, but knew he was an efficient killer. Hopefully he would not swallow down the ring when he ate the witch, and spit it out with her bones. Otherwise he would be forced to track the ogre and retrieve the ring from his droppings. Ozmadias clipped his beak in disgust. There were few things in this world as pungent and revolting as ogre droppings. The bird shuddered.

Grog walked a few more meters. The scent was extremely strong. He looked off the path and saw an extinguished campfire and a small orange shape. He smiled toothily. His meal came already packaged. The ogre moved so quietly that Raucous, asleep in the tree with his head under his wing, never heard him approach, and so sounded no warning. Step by step, the ogre drew closer to the tent, and the unsuspecting witch inside. He lifted his club high. He would bash the entire tent, that way he'd be sure his meal would be properly tenderized.

Grog threw his weight forward to bash the tent, but found he could not bring his club down. He tried again, straining, but his club was immovable. The ogre turned his head and looked up. His small sharp eyes went wide with terror and he released the club, turned and ran, leaving a pungent dropping behind.

The ogre loped up the mountain path at top speed, his ponderous heart pounding in fright, his grotesque face contorted in fear. Was it chasing him? Small stones shuddered as he trundled past, not so silent in fleeing mode. Grog didn't stop running until he was safely in his cave, his chest heaving, his great bulk hunched against the furthest wall, crouched and trembling. He had never seen anything bigger than him on the mountain. Until this night, the ogre hadn't known the meaning of fear. Grog's ears twisted forward alertly. He thought he heard a small, scraping sound outside the cave entrance. The ogre grabbed a huge thigh bone and clutched it close to his chest as if for comfort, his small eyes focused on the cave entrance. There was another scraping sound, louder this time. Something heavy was moving over the stones. Suddenly the cave entrance went black as a great shape filled it. Grog bellowed shrilly in horror as the thing advanced at lightning speed and closed over him.

Hermione woke. The ring had heated up uncomfortably on her finger, then quickly cooled. She looked at it groggily, her brow furrowed with irritation, then rolled over and fell back into her dreamless sleep.

Outside, Ozmadias watched the scene unfold. He had been surprised to see the ogre flee. He didn't see a reason for it. Something had happened, but he wasn't sure what. His night vision wasn't that good. No matter, the witch was still safe, which meant the mistress would still be very displeased. She had escaped death twice. That was two times too many.

Hermione woke to the gentle sound of bird songs. She wriggled out of the sleeping bag and stretched. She hadn't had a bad night at all, except when the ring woke her by heating up on her finger. She didn't understand why it did that. This was the second time it had happened. She dressed herself, retied her ponytail, then flattened and tightly rolled her sleeping bag. She unzipped the opening, picked up the bag and the warming stone, then exited the tent. Immediately she gagged and dropped her items, clamping her hand over her mouth and nose. What the hell was that smell?

Hermione's amber eyes scanned the campsite and fell on a pile of droppings, covered by buzzing insects. She had never smelled anything so horrible. She screwed up her face and hurriedly scrunched down the pop tent and inserted it in its carrier. She tied her sleeping bag on to the backpack, put the stone inside, slipped it on, grabbed her staff and quickly departed the campsite. Gods, that dung stunk!

Raucous was standing on a rock off the path, upwind of the droppings. He had discovered the disgusting pile as soon as he awoke and with a squawk of distaste hastily abandoned the campsite for sweeter smelling environs. He had cawed hilariously at Hermione's reaction as she emerged from the tent, rolling on his feathered back, his claws kicking in the air The look on her face had been priceless. Hermione stalked up to the mirthful raven and glared at him as she huffed in the fresh air, trying to get rid of the stench that seemed to be clinging to her nose hairs. Raucous rolled to his feet, his black eyes glittering at her with mirth.

"That had to be the most disgusting thing I have ever smelled," she said, frowning back at the campsite. "I wonder what left it? That was a huge pile of dung. The animal had to be enormous."

Raucous shrugged, fluttered to her shoulder and started pecking at her backpack insistently. Hermione looked at him.

"I should make you forage for your breakfast," she seethed as she took off the backpack, opened it and took out the bag of dried meat. "You could have warned me about the droppings. Sent me an image or something."

She handed Raucous a piece of meat, took out another slice for herself and a piece of bread, then leaned against the stone, and began to eat. Her amber eyes wandered around idly as she chewed, looking at the landscape. She looked up the mountain, and stopped chewing. There on a crag, sat the huge bird Raucous had shown her. It appeared to be sleeping.

"Raucous," she whispered, "Is that the bird you saw yesterday?"

Raucous stopped ripping at his meat and looked up. He fluffed his feathers excitedly and let out a low squawk of assent as his black eyes fell on Ozmadias.

"He's huge. He could probably carry me away," Hermione breathed. She considered the bird. It was late. Most animals were up at this time. Why was the bird asleep? It didn't have the features of a nocturnal bird. And a nocturnal bird wouldn't sleep in the open. Something definitely wasn't right here.

"Raucous," she said in a low voice. "Let's go. Quietly."

The raven hopped on her shoulder and they quietly headed up the path, leaving the sleeping Ozmadias to his dreams.

Venoma was pacing the setting room in front of the window, stopping from time to time to look out of it, scanning the skies for her familiar. Ozmadias hadn't contacted her in almost twenty-four hours. Where was that blasted bird?

Vivaldi awoke, his black eyes blinking away sleep. He tried to move and found both arms trapped under two naked, sleeping concubines, curled against him on either side. He sighed.

"Asera, Handei, get up," he said, "I have to leave."

Both women stretched and wrapped their arms over his slim pale body. Two sets of brown eyes stared at him affectionately.

"No, Vivaldi, stay with us," Asera breathed, pulling on him insistently.

Vivaldi looked at the Lemurian witch. She had been with him since she was fourteen. She was eighteen now. He sighed.

"There is something important going on. I have to go see Venoma," he said, trying to unwrap the arms holding him to the bed.

Handei groaned, and pressed against him seductively, her large breasts pressing against the side of his chest, her leg crossing his as she pressed her hot sex against his thigh. He looked at her, feeling a stirring in his loins. Handei had come to him when she was sixteen. She was nineteen now, a tigress from the very start and his favorite. She would do anything for him and to him. She never complained when he was rough with her, like the others did. He steeled himself and wriggled free of them both. He rolled from the bed, both women's brown eyes sweeping over his body hungrily. He grinned down at them, his organ hard as a rock. He really did have to go, however.

"You two would drain me dry if I stayed here with you. Pleasure each other if you need orgasms so badly," he said. "The women smiled at him, then moved into each other's arms and began to kiss. Vivaldi watched them caress each other for several moments, and considered joining them again, but…duty called. He slipped on his robes and headed for his own room, closing the door on the gasping concubines.

The wizard showered and dressed quickly. He was starving. Last night had been enjoyable but tiring. He satisfied both women several times, Venoma swimming in his head as they climbed over each other sweating and panting. He liked doing two women at one time. It increased his stamina. When he finally got Venoma…

Vivaldi sighed as he walked toward the kitchens, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. So much hinged on his getting his hands on the ring. Venoma was making him nervous. She looked so hungry whenever she spoke of the ring. The young wizard was starting to believe she had designs on it, and on taking over Snape Manor. With the ring in her possession she could do it. If she did, she wouldn't stand for his presence there. He would always be a threat if she didn't force him to leave the Manor, or worse…kill him with the power of the ring. His black eyes glittered. He would have to make sure he was the one to claim the ring.

Vivaldi pushed open the kitchen door, startling the servants. He walked to the storeroom and looked at the cured meats. He selected a ham and set it on the counter. He made a cutting motion with his hand and several pieces of meat were sliced neatly from the bone. He gathered them together and exited the storeroom. He walked to the kitchen table and sat down.

"Bread? Plate?" he asked one of the servants, who hurriedly brought a plate to the Master, then retrieved a loaf of fresh crusty bread from the oven and set it in a basket and brought it over to the table, setting it down close to Vivaldi.

"Drink?" the wizard said, as he broke off a piece of bread and wrapped it around the meat, taking a healthy bite and chewing. A glass of cold juice was set next to him, and he picked it up and drained half of it.

"Bring me the pitcher," he said around his meal.

The nervous servant quickly obliged him. She wasn't used to seeing her Master in the kitchens. She had only been at the Manor for three months. Vivaldi looked up at her. He hadn't yet bedded her. He made it a point to shag all the female servants. It was his right as Lord of the Manor.

"What's your name?" Vivaldi asked her, his black eyes sweeping over her. She had brown eyes and brown hair, full lips and a curvaceous shape.

"Shaaron," the nervous girl replied. His black eyes settled on her face.

"How old are you?" the wizard asked her, turning slightly in his chair to see her better as he ate.

"Seventeen, my Lord," she responded.

Vivaldi smirked. She was young.

"Are you a virgin, Shaaron?" he asked her.

The girl blushed. Vivaldi took that as a yes. He leaned back in his chair and stared at her until her blush spread over her entire body.

"You know your duties as a servant of this Manor?" Vivaldi asked her, his voice low.

"Yes, my Lord. They were told to me when I arrived three months ago," she answered him, her eyes lowered to the floor.

Vivaldi leaned forward.

"Then I assume you know your duty towards me," he said, his black eyes sweeping over her again.

"Yes, my Lord," the girl responded in a small voice. Yes, she did know. And she dreaded it. She had heard stories about how Vivaldi treated virgins from the other servants.

The wizard looked her over one more time.

"Tonight, instead of retiring to the servants quarters, I want you to come to my rooms. Be prepared to stay the night," Vivaldi said to her. He had let her go long enough.

"Yes, my Lord," the girl said in a whisper, curtseying.

Vivaldi nodded in approval. "Return to your work," he said, dismissing the girl.

Vivaldi turned back to the table and continued eating. The girl returned to her work, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. It wouldn't do for her Lord to see her cry.

Vivaldi wolfed down the remaining bread and meat. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and rose from the table. Taking one more look at the girl, who was bending over as she tended the oven, he smiled lasciviously, then exited the kitchen.

He needed to check on his half-sister.

Finally, Venoma could stand it no longer. She pressed her slim fingers to her temples.

"Ozmadias, come to me! Now!" she thought angrily, sending the thought to the familiar.

Ozmadias woke with a start. His mistress had summoned him, and she sounded pissed. The bird looked down toward the campsite to see the witch and the raven gone. Damn, they had left while he slept. Ozmadias hesitated. He had to go to Venoma. She would not be pleased with what he had to show her. The great bird, then leapt off the mountainside and flapped strongly upward, heading for the Manor. He didn't rush.

Hermione and Raucous were making good time. They were halfway up the mountain and the way was clear. Professor Snape had been right. Hermione's lack of magic was giving her easy passage. The trees trembled a bit as she passed but did not reach out their limbs to grab her. The stones did not trigger avalanches, and the path itself did not swallow her when she passed over the magically triggered traps. The witch hiked up the mountain at a good clip, passing Grog's cave with no idea that the ogre ever existed.

Raucous flew ahead, his beady eyes pealed for the great bird. He saw no sign of it. Hopefully it was still sleeping back by the campsite. Unfortunately, he didn't see the hawk watching him from a shadowed crag in the side of the mountain. This was a wild bird with only one thought, food. The hawk dropped out of the crag and soared silently behind Raucous, talons extended.

Luckily, Hermione saw the hawk drop and screamed, "Raucous, a hawk! Fly for the trees!"

The raven didn't even look back but headed straight for the trees, the hawk in deadly pursuit. The raven dove into a tangle of branches and hopped through them, heading for an even denser clump several meters away. The hawk tried to follow unsuccessfully and let out a screech of frustration, and took to the air. It hovered about a bit, Raucous peering up at it from between the branches, spewing a slew of cawing birdie obscenities. Hermione stopped under the tree and coaxed the angry, frightened raven down to her shoulder. The hawk flew overhead, but did not attempt to attack Raucous again, because of the presence of the witch. Eventually the hawk left, deciding to look for a meal elsewhere.

As Hermione continued up the trail, Raucous sent her images showing the hawk being killed in a number of nasty ways, the most heroic being Raucous running the hawk through with a fantastically lengthened and sharpened beak, then cawing victoriously, one claw firmly planted on its twitching body. Hermione laughed at this and told him he was a very brave bird. Raucous preened himself at the praise. He stayed on Hermione's shoulder until dusk.

Ozmadias arrived at Snape Manor and squeezed his feathered bulk into the windowsill. Venoma was waiting for him, and there was no smile on her face.

"Ozmadias, why did you not contact me? This is very important. What happened to the witch?" she asked the bird, frowning.

Ozmadias sent her images of the charging unicorns being turned by Raucous, and of Grog fleeing the campsite. Venoma was livid and very concerned about the glow that had surrounded Hermione's tent.

"This is impossible. She is not a Snape. How could the guardian manifest to protect her? It cannot be invoked by one who is not a member of our family. Something is very wrong here. Very strange and very wrong," she said, pacing the setting room.

Vivaldi entered, and knew immediately something was wrong by the angry way Venoma was striding back and forth across the room, her black gown swishing in her wake. He watched her for a moment before he spoke.

"Sister, what's wrong?" he asked her.

Venoma looked at him, her black eyes blazing with rage.

"What's wrong? What's wrong? The witch still lives, that's what's wrong. The mountain's protections have failed to work against her, and she escaped Sewell and Grog," Venoma spat. She turned to Ozmadias.

"Where is she now, Ozmadias?" she asked the bird. He had been afraid of this. He sent her an image of the abandoned campsite.

"Where did she go? How did you lose her?" Venoma demanded, her fists clenched. She was trembling slightly.

Ozmadias sent an image of himself sleeping. It was unfair of Venoma to expect him to stay awake a full day. He had to sleep after all.

"You fucking featherbrain!" Venoma screeched, lifting her hands to blast the bird. Ozmadias closed his eyes. Vivaldi ran to the window and grasped his sister's hands, stopping her from using her power. He wasn't particularly crazy about Ozmadias, but he was useful, and needed for deliveries and messages as well as spying.

"Venoma! No! Are you mad? We need Ozmadias! Calm down!" the wizard said, holding her hands tightly.

Venoma looked at him with such hatred in her eyes that the wizard quailed. The witch seemed to realize that she was showing her true colors, and quickly calmed, her eyes hooded.

"I'm sorry brother. This situation has me on edge. I didn't mean it," she said, her eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears. She fell into Vivaldi's arms, pressing herself against him as she did so. The wizard held his sister, relishing his arms around her slim body, her breasts pressed against him. He made sure there was no contact below his waist. Her effect on him would be too obvious. He smoothed his hand over her silky hair.

"It's all right, Venoma," he purred comfortingly, "You're under a lot of strain. If she makes it to the top of the mountain, we will handle her. Don't worry," he said.

Venoma pulled back from him.

"But Vivaldi…the guardian manifested for her!" Venoma said.

Vivaldi was stunned. The guardian only manifested for members of the Snape family. How could it show up for the witch? He looked at Ozmadias.

"The bird saw the guardian?" he asked, his eyes curious.

"No, it was too dark. But he saw the glow around the witch's tent. It protected her from Grog," Venoma replied, displeasure etched in her beautiful face.

Vivaldi frowned.

"It will be hard to stop her if the guardian is protecting her, Venoma," he said.

He wanted the ring, but it would do him no good if he were dead. Vivaldi was quite sensible when it came to situations like this. Life good, death bad. Very simple really.

"Perhaps we should just let her complete her mission and go," he suggested.

Venoma looked at him in horror, then disdain.

"You coward. You would let her take what belongs to us and leave here unmolested? You have no backbone. You aren't a man, you're a sniveling little boy," she spat at him, her eyes narrowed.

Vivaldi's nostrils flared. Venoma had never spoken to him like this. Before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed Venoma's wrist and twisted her arm behind her back painfully.

"Don't you EVER call me a coward, or a boy, Venoma. I am very much a man, and the Master of this house! Just because I allow you to run the Manor as you wish does not give you the right to demean me. I can have you beaten, flogged within an inch of your wretched life. You too are subject to my will, sister. Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I am a Snape and will not hesitate to punish my own, if necessary. Don't ever disrespect me again. Do you understand me?" he hissed against her ear, pressing against her with his body. He made sure as well that she felt his erection, though he made no mention of forcing her.

Venoma was frightened. She had never seen this side of Vivaldi. She didn't know the wizard contained so much anger or brutality.

"Yes, Vivaldi, I understand," she whispered. He let her go and spun her to face him.

"I hope you don't plan retribution, Venoma. Any attempt on my life will be dealt with harshly and quickly," he said, looking into her black eyes with his own stony gaze. "And I know you want the ring for yourself, sister. It will never happen. If we acquire it, it will be placed on my finger, and passed on to my heirs. If you try to secure it, I will look upon such an act as a personal attack and act accordingly."

Venoma looked at the wizard. She had badly underestimated him. She had assumed she had Vivaldi wrapped around her finger by keeping him panting after her. Apparently, lust wasn't enough to keep the Snape genes at bay. The wizard was as cruel and wicked as any of his forebears. He had his own agenda and she had never recognized it. She had no doubt he would do something terrible to her if she stepped out of line. She looked at Vivaldi with a new respect. Now he was acting like a true Lord of the Manor. It was a bit of a turn-on.

"Yes, my Lord," she said softly.

Vivaldi looked at her. It was the first time his half-sister had acknowledged his title. It empowered him. He gave her a smirk, then his eyes swept over her slowly.

Ozmadias watched the exchange. He was grateful to Vivaldi for stopping Venoma. If she blasted him, there was a good chance she would have killed him. She might not have given him a full blast, but he would have been stunned and fallen from the window. He probably would not have been able to recover quick enough to right himself and fly. He might have been dashed against the mountain.

"Send the bird back down to watch the witch's progress. Tell him to return either when she reaches the top of the mountain or when the mountain takes her," Vivaldi instructed his sister. Ozmadias understood him, but Vivaldi respected the familiar/master arrangement and did not order him directly. Venoma repeated the instructions to the bird, then hugged him around the neck. Ozmadias took it stiffly.

"I'm sorry my pet," Venoma said, stroking his crest.

Ozmadias remained aloof. She had almost blasted him. He needed time to re-establish trust, if he ever would. Venoma seemed to sense this, and pulled back from the bird, her dark eyes sad. She really was sorry. She had that undisciplined Snape temperament and had acted before she thought.

"Go, my pet," she said shortly.

Ozmadias dropped out the window and flew off strongly. Now only Venoma and Vivaldi remained in the setting room. The wizard looked at her, aware of his new status in her eyes. He should have twisted her arm long ago. It seemed she responded to strength, rather than adoration.

"You have angered me greatly, Venoma,' he said, his eyes cold now.

Venoma lowered her eyes.

"I am sorry, my Lord," she responded.

Vivaldi looked at her, wondering if he dared. He did.

"How sorry are you, sister?" he breathed, his black eyes glittering hotly at her.

Venoma looked at him, calculating her situation in her mind. The balance of power had changed. Her half-brother had asserted his lordship of the Manor, and her place as his subject. She had lost power, and in her mind, favor. There was only one way she could get it back.

Venoma wrapped her arms around her half-brother, pressed her body tight against his and gave him a very unsisterly kiss.

"Very sorry," she said, her eyes liquid. "How can I make it up to you my Lord?"

Vivaldi stared at her a moment, the taste of her still on his lips, her curves molded to his body. The wizard partially turned and waved his hand at the setting room door, closing and locking it.

"I am sure you will find a way, sister" he said..

Ozmadias circled high overhead and found Hermione quickly. She was almost at the top of the mountain. He settled high on a crag, knowing the black bird was watching for him. He didn't want to tip his wing. He would stay awake the entire night. He didn't want to go through that experience with his mistress again.

Hermione had made good time and was more than three quarters of the way up the mountain. She could just make out Snape Manor. The domicile seemed to built mostly of stone, but part of it seemed to be actually carved into the side of the mountain. The Professor's estranged family lived there. Hermione did not intend to meet them but find the ancestral tomb directly. It would be better to get permission, but she felt since she had the ring, there would most likely be a confrontation. She wanted to avoid that. She had a feeling these Snapes would not hesitate to use magic on her to retrieve the ring.

She wished she had a disillusionment spell. It would certainly come in handy right about now. Then she could access the tomb without being seen. She sighed. Wishful thinking was not going to make this any easier. Dusk was falling, and she began to look for a place to camp. She was very tired. The air was thinning and she wasn't used to it. She wished she had thought to ask Flitwick for a charm to counteract the effect. Again wishing wasn't going to help anything.

Hermione located a spot that would do, again near some trees and quickly set up camp. After making a fire, and preparing her tent by putting the warming stone and her sleeping bag inside, she and Raucous shared some of the jerky she had packed for the journey, then she turned in early. Tomorrow she would be completing her journey and wanted an early start in the morning. Raucous again took shelter in the boughs of a nearby tree. Both fell asleep quickly.

Several skinny wolves skulked along the path below Hermione's camp. Their fur was matted and their yellow eyes sharp with hunger. One particularly bony wolf snuffled the path, catching Hermione's scent. He growled, drawing the other wolves, which also sniffed about. They looked at each other, then ascended the mountain path, following the trail. They weren't sure what it is they were tracking but they were interested. It had been hard hunting lately with the unicorns on guard. The wolves primarily hunted the goats on the mountain, but the unicorns had been attacking them with regularity, driving them to lower ground, where the hunting was terrible. Only small rodents lived at the base of the mountain. They couldn't catch enough to fill their bellies.

It was difficult creeping back up the mountain undetected. Unicorns had an amazing sense of smell. They had to proceed at night, when the herd slept and hide in caves during the day. The animals were starved. Whatever creature left this scent, if they could find it and it wasn't a predator itself, they would bring it down.

It was a matter of survival.

The wolves quickly followed Hermione's trail to the campsite, and stealthily approached the tent, sniffing around it with interest. The something they wanted was in there. One wolf tested the tent with its paw…it was soft and moved. He affixed his teeth on the corner and pulled.

Inside the tent, Hermione was dimly aware of a disturbance, but merely shifted in her sleep. It was only when the tent jerked and ripped that she fully woke and saw the hole. She scrambled out of the sleeping bag just as Raucous sounded the alarm. She fished her flashlight out of her pack, and unzipped the flap, crawling out of the tent and standing up. The wolves had dropped back when the flap opened and now stood in a line, several meters away, measuring their prey. Hermione shined the light on five pairs of luminous eyes. The wolves began to growl. Whatever kind of animal this was, they were confident they could take it down.

Raucous dove at the wolves, attempting to scatter them. They did flinch, but didn't leave. One tried to snap the raven out of the air on his next dive and almost got him. He flew to Hermione's shoulder, raising hell at the wolves.

"Shit," Hermione thought as she carefully bent and picked up her sturdy wood staff that was lying next to the tent. She gripped it like a cricket bat and starting yelling at the wolves approaching them and swinging the staff back and forth in a broad arc. This was a mistake. She should have retreated towards the trees to protect her back. All she managed to do was get trapped in a circle as the wolves surrounded her just out of staff reach. She spun in a circle swinging the staff, trying to keep the starved animals off her, but desperation made the wolves courageous, and each would try to get closer when she spun with her back to it.

The ring began to warm on her finger. Hermione felt it but couldn't take the time to examine it. One wolf had rushed in and grabbed her trouser leg and she kicked at it. It held on a moment shaking it before releasing her. The others dipped in closer. Raucous still clung to her shoulder, screeching furiously at the wolves. It looked bad for both raven and witch. One wolf leaped for Hermione's face. She screamed and closed her eyes waiting for the fangs to rip into her. She heard a yelp, opened her eyes and saw the wolf writhing on the ground as if struck. The other wolves looked at it, but were so hungry they didn't back off. Another leaped at Hermione's back, knocking the witch to the ground, but again there was a yelp and the weight of the animal suddenly disappeared, and Hermione quickly scrambled to her feet.

That wolf was also writhing horribly, its teeth pulled back from its gums. The other three wolves were moving uncertainly now, shifting from paw to paw and whining as they looked at their companions. They didn't understand what was happening. The creature hadn't struck or bitten either of the fallen wolves, but they were down and apparently suffering greatly. Hermione, seeing the animals' indecision, rushed yelling at the other three wolves, swinging her staff and actually striking one. The wolf yelped in pain and fled. The other two wolves, on seeing their fleeing companion followed suit and raced off into the darkness, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

Hermione shined her flashlight on the writhing animals, and was horrified to see how thin they were. Even though the wolves had been trying to kill her, she could see that hunger was the driving force behind them. She felt sorry for the animals, and if she had her wand, she would have put them out of their misery. She had no idea what had happened to them.

"You poor things," she said, "I wish you weren't suffering so."

The moment the witch uttered that sentiment, both wolves stopped convulsing and jumped to their feet, their ears flattened and snarling at Hermione. Then they ran off after their fellow pack members, leaving the creature behind. It was too strong for them.

Hermione watched the wolves go with her mouth open. What had happened? She looked at the ring. The "S" was glowing slightly with a pulsing blue light. It slowly faded. The ring had protected her.

Snape watched Hermione's courageous attempt at battling the wolves. He couldn't understand why the ring was not working to protect the witch. It should have struck all the animals down. It had been known to zap men immediately when they threatened to attack. He saw the wolf leap and Hermione close her eyes. The Potions Master's stomach clenched. He was sure the animal was going to rip Hermione to pieces. Then the animal was flung back to the ground, and didn't get up again, but lay there shuddering as if in great pain. The same thing happened to the wolf that knocked the witch down. It was flung back to the ground, convulsing violently. He watched Hermione drive off the other three wolves, admiration gleaming in his black eyes. She was a brave little witch. Also a compassionate one. She expressed sympathy for the convulsing animals. Snape scowled. If he had been attacked, he would have found a large stone and bashed their furry heads in.

He thought about the ring's reaction to the animals. It could have been that the ring did not kill them outright because they were animals, starving animals, not men intent on killing. It only attacked the wolves that actually were going to do her bodily harm, disabling them by giving them great pain. The ring divined Hermione's desire that the animals not suffer, and released them. It was certainly an interesting magical item.

Snape watched as Hermione built a large fire and brought her sleeping bag out from the ruined tent, and stretched it out on the ground a short distance from the blaze. She laid the staff beside the sleeping bag and crawled back into it. Raucous had returned to the tree branch, but did not tuck his head for sleep. He remained silent, but watchful…his beady black eyes staring into the darkness, watchful for any motion. Snape could see Hermione doing the same thing, her amber eyes shifting as she looked into the darkness beyond the campfire. After about an hour, the witch fell asleep. Snape watched as the mist once again appeared, and spread through the image to surround him. She was dreaming again, and soon he would be in her presence. He felt the mist coalesce under his feet, giving him traction, and the feeling of space surround him. He began to walk, seeking Hermione out when the mist changed forming her campsite. She was there asleep in her bag.

The Professor walked over to her and knelt, studying her face in the firelight. She looked peaceful. Lovely. He wouldn't mind waking to that sleeping face and gently, but insistently urging her to consciousness in an unmistakable manner. He looked at her again, feeling a stirring. Maybe not so gently. He always knew Hermione was a determined witch, but he had not dreamed she would be so strong. Fighting off wolves. Most witches would have dissolved into weeping piles of terror, especially if they were wandless. Not her. She charged into the fray just the way she charged into her spell making, full throttle and never admitting defeat. His eyes softened a bit as she sighed and shifted. Suddenly, her amber eyes slowly opened, and looked up at him.

"Professor?" she said sleepily.

"Yes, Hermione. I am here," he said.

Hermione worked her way out of the bag, and the Professor helped her to her feet. She looked around, then back at him sharply.

"How is it you're at my campsite, Professor? Are you a ghost?" she asked him.

"This is a dream version of your campsite, Hermione. You are still asleep," Snape replied. He hadn't released her hand yet, reveling in its warmth and softness. "As to my being a ghost, I suppose I am close to it. But not too close. I was refused entrance to the land of light and love."

Hermione smirked at him.

"Now, why does that not surprise me?" she asked. Severus Snape in the land of light and love? The image of his dark visage scowling among dancing cherubs, rainbows and flowing cloudbanks almost made her dissolve into conniptions.

Snape frowned at her.

"I take it you don't think I qualified to enter such a realm," he said rather stiffly. "I assure you, Hermione that at this point in time I am definitely heaven material. It seems I pulled a 'save' by killing Voldemort. Removing his evil negated my own ample stores. I was refused entrance, Hermione because…"

Here he hesitated. Hermione frowned at him.

"Because what, Professor? Tell me," Hermione urged.

Snape looked at her.

"According to the powers that be, I'm not 'properly' dead yet," Snape replied.

Hermione's eyes widened. The Professor not dead?

"What does that mean?" she asked him, "If you're not dead, what are you?"

Snape smirked. "I imagine I am hanging in the balance, as it were," he replied, "Hopefully not for too much longer. You see, Hermione. I gave up my life to kill Voldemort, but only temporarily, at least that was my hope. Your purpose in going to my ancestral tomb is to revive me. To bring me back to the corporeal world."

Hermione stared at the Professor, her mouth wide open. After a few moments she managed to close it.

"You sent me on this journey to resurrect you, Professor?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said silkily.

Immediately, Hermione began to blush, thinking about her forward behavior in the first dream. The things she had admitted to him, the things they had done. She had only acted in that manner because she was sure the Professor was gone forever. If he came back…

"Oh my gods," Hermione breathed, buckling as if she were about to pass out. Her knees began to give. The Professor caught her, pulling her against his body. His black eyes looked down at her.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he purred, holding her tightly. He knew she just realized that if he came back, things between them would be very different.

The witch looked up at him very aware of his closeness, his maleness.

"Professor…if you return, what will that mean? For us?" she asked him, her heart pounding.

His eyes blazed at her.

"Most likely it will mean that when we return to Hogwarts, and after all the excitement dies down, I will sweep you into my arms, carry you to my rooms, deflower you and become your lover," he replied softly.

Then Snape kissed Hermione, covering her mouth with his and sucking on her lips gently before invading her mouth with his probing, hungry tongue. Hermione responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her belly flaring with heat as a soft moan rose from deep inside her.

Snape gently pulled away from her lips, his eyes searching her face slowly as she sought his mouth again. He gave her a knowing smirk.

"And from your response to my kiss, I have a feeling you will welcome my other, more pointed attentions," he said, his voice a low growl. "There's so much I want to do to you, Hermione. You have no idea how much pleasure I will give you."

Hearing the passion and promise in his voice and feeling his hard, lean body pressed against hers, Hermione felt as if she could melt into a gooey, sticky lust-filled puddle.

"But first, you have to bring me back," he said, drawing away from her with an effort.

Hermione was all fire and urge. She had been through so much in the past three days, it would be wonderful to lose herself in this dream with the Professor. She wasn't sure she believed what the dream Professor was telling her, but his strong presence was arousing and comforting. She was so drawn to the wizard. She wanted her dream to go erotic very badly.

"Professor, I want to do something now. Anything. I'm stressed and I'm randy, and you're here, and you want me. I don't understand why you won't just let go when I'm so willing to be let go on," she said softly, looking into the wizard's dark eyes.

Snape looked into Hermione's desire-filled eyes. This was just what he needed. The young woman who had been the subject of his interest and lust for the past five years telling him what he always fantasized about hearing from her lips. That she wanted him to take her. Yep, he would be floating between life and death when his dream of Hermione being randy for him came true. That's just the way his life seemed to work most of the time. He sighed. It would be so easy to take the lovely, courageous, and willing witch on top of her sleeping bag by firelight. Snape was sorely tempted. Yet he still wasn't sure if deflowering Hermione in the world of her dreams would affect her virgin status in the real world. He was not a dream figment, no matter what the witch believed. He was a living, full-blooded wizard. His erection attested to that fact.

He continued to stare blankly at Hermione, who was watching him as if he were a hunk of chocolate and she had the worst sweet tooth in the world.

No. He couldn't do it. The unicorns were still roaming the mountain and could appear again. If she weren't a virgin, most likely Sewell would attempt kill her. The ring would protect her, but it would be better to keep the situation from happening at all.

"I can't, Hermione," he said to the witch, "There are circumstances that make it too risky for you."

"I'm willing to face the risks," Hermione said, moving into him again. He could feel the heat of her body through her clothing, and she was quaking with desire. Snape groaned. This wasn't remotely fair. She smelled of smoke and mountain air. Like a nymph who had walked through fire. He didn't find the scent unpleasant. It fit the setting.

"I'm not, Hermione. This is too important," he said, but he didn't push her away. She was molded to him and it felt good. Very good. It had been a long time since he held a woman this way. Also, he was grateful to Hermione. She had risked so much to fulfill his last request. He would love to show her his appreciation in a very physical way. Again 'no' popped into his head.

"Then at least kiss me again," Hermione breathed, pursing her lips and standing on her tiptoes.

Snape sighed, knowing he shouldn't do it, that he should try to return to the realm he occupied and let the witch return to her sleep, but he was too drawn to her, too moved by her desire for him to walk away from her. He lowered his head and kissed her again, tasting her heat and her lust, losing himself in it.

"Touch me," Hermione hissed into his mouth demandingly. He was going to do something other than just kiss her, damn it.

Her tone made the wizard respond, and Snape slid his hands down her back and around her sides, then lightly over her hips. Hermione began to caress him as well, running her hands over his back, lingering at the small of it, pulling him into her harder so she could feel his arousal. His hardness made her soaking wet, and she groaned against his lips. The Professor slid his hands over her hips and down the back of her thighs. That she let him touch her this way made his breath come quicker, and he slid his hands back up, slipping them under her shirt and feeling the softness and heat of her skin. That was a mistake, because the moment he touched her flesh, he went into automatic and deepened his kiss before slipping to her throat. Hermione was purring like a kitten as his soft lips moved over her neck. She had never felt anything so sensual, so wonderful. She wanted more contact.

"Professor," she groaned, "More, please."

Snape moved his hands around her waist, across her belly and up to her breasts. She wore a sports bra, and his palms slid over it, feeling the hard peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric. She hissed when he touched her breasts, encouraging him to massage and fondle them. Hermione began gasping in a very passionate way, and he pulled away from her throat to look at her. The witch's eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, her mouth parted, her lips glistening.

"Your hands feel so good," she half-purred, pressing into them before reaching under her shirt and pulling her bra up so she could feel his hands on her skin. Snape bit his lips as he grasped two handfuls of large firm breasts. She was a well-built little witch, and his tool was threatening to bust out of his trousers. He had to taste them. He pulled up her shirt, and wrapped one arm around her waist to support her as she leaned back, giving him access. He licked, sucked and kissed first one, then the other, his lips and tongue running over the round, firm flesh, feeling her fingers sifting through his hair, caressing him as she whispered encouragement. She ground her pelvis against his wantonly, needing, wanting more.

He couldn't possess her. He couldn't…but he could give her what she needed. With his other hand he undid the button of her trousers and slipped his hand inside, under her knickers and touched the moistness of her sex. Hermione buckled against his hand, her amber eyes going wide as he slipped a finger between her folds. He hissed and bit his lip at the heat and wetness of her pussy. He felt the stretch of skin that protected her entrance give a little beneath his fingertip and pulled away from it, instead rubbing her desire-swollen nub. Gods, she sounded beautiful as she looked. He watched her face as he manipulated her sex, holding her writhing body as her cries of pleasure increased. Gods he wanted to stick his throbbing member inside her, but continued to work her towards release. She came with a shriek, shuddering in his arms, her eyes rolling up as her orgasm hit her. The Professor groaned again, turned on almost beyond his limits as she arched against his hand, and he felt her release pour over his fingers.

"Damn," he breathed as she whimpered, pulling herself forward and resting against him as she came back to earth. He slowly removed his hand, and brought it to his nose. Yes, gods, in the dream realm even the release was real. He tasted the witch for the first time and his nostrils flared as he cleaned his hand, then looked down at Hermione, whose face was pressed into Snape's robes as she panted against him.

He needed to go.

"Hermione…I have to go. I can't stay," he said, his voice gravelly with desire. If I stay you will definitely lose your virginity to me.'

"No…don't go. Take my virginity," she moaned against him. Her hand moved to the huge bulge beneath his robe and began to rub him insistently. Shit!

Snape didn't know how to get out of the dream. He desperately pictured the starry realm and himself floating, trying to ignore the delicious feel of her hand rubbing his erection through his robes. He groaned and visualized harder. He felt himself lightening. There was no more contact. He was dissolving, the scenario was dimming. He was leaving her dream.

"No!" Hermione cried as he faded. She clutched desperately at him, her arms passing through his body. His eyes were intense as he looked at her.

"Tomorrow," he said as he faded from view, "Tomorrow you won't have to rely on dreams, Hermione. Go to the tomb. The ring will do the rest."

Then he was gone.

Hermione threw a small tantrum.

"Gods damn you, Professor!" she cried shaking her fist at the empty space he had occupied, and kicking at the earth. "And they say women are teases! McGonagal was right about you! Even from beyond the grave you're a bastard!"

Snape smirked as he watched the dream-witch curse him. Hell, he did what he could while letting her keep her virtue. And she was completely ungrateful. He was not a tease. It was Hermione who was the tease. All of that supple, willing flesh and he couldn't touch her. Just wait until he got back into corporeal form. He was going to shove himself so far into her sweet body that Hermione Granger wouldn't know where he ended and she began.

He looked down at his bulging robes as he drifted lazily in the void, wondering if it would upset the scheme of things terribly if he wanked off.

Dressed in her nightgown and robe, Shaaron approached the large, ornate doors of Vivaldi's bedroom. Her heart was in her throat, and she had no more tears left to cry. She hoped the wizard would be gentle, though the other female servants had told her it would be unlikely. Vivaldi believed in breaking in a virgin thoroughly. The idea of being the first man to have a woman excited him, and he claimed virgins fully so no other man could be the first to do anything that he hadn't already done.

It was impossible for her to flee the Manor due to its location, and even if she did, she had nowhere to go. The reason she came to the Manor was that her father died, and he was a poor man who left her nothing. Their home was a rental, and the landlord had let her stay several weeks before moving a new family in. She could not find work in the village, and did not want to become a prostitute. Ketri had found her on the beach, digging for clams when he told her she could go to the Manor. He was honest about what would be expected of her.

"If the Lord of the Manor wants you, Shaaron, you will be required to sleep with him. It's their way. But better one wizard a few times than a constant train of wizards day after day," he had said to her. And he was right. It was the lesser of a number of evils. Ketri kindly offered to rid her of her virgin status, but Shaaron refused him. Now, as she stood outside the Master's room, she wondered if she should have taken him up on his offer. Well, it was too late now. She knocked on the door.

A tired male voice answered her.

"Who is it?" Vivaldi groaned.

The wizard lay naked and exhausted, spread-eagled on the top of his sheets. He wore himself out on Venoma, who was recovering in her bedroom, aching, sore and satisfied. Vivaldi had been surprising and insatiable. He worked out seven years of lust for his half-sister in one afternoon. When his concubines came to keep him company, he turned the disappointed girls away, not even allowing them to just sleep with him. He knew the women. They might start out with good intentions, but sooner or later, the fingers would start creeping, and the lips, roaming. He had been awakened more than once with his member halfway down Handei's throat.

"It's Shaaron, my Lord," the servant girl said through the door, "I have come to you as you requested."

Vivaldi lay in the bed, and groaned. He couldn't handle anymore pussy today. Between the concubines last night and Venoma this afternoon, he doubted he had any come left. Plus his tool was sore.

"I release you from your duties tonight, Shaaron. Return to the servants' quarters. I will let you know when I want you in my bed," he called back.

"Yes, my Lord," Shaaron said, curtseying at the door even though Vivaldi couldn't see her. She almost slipped up and thanked him. That would have been a grave error to show she did not want him to take her. She hurried back to the servant's quarters, grateful for the reprieve. Maybe he would not want her for several months. He may have locked the setting room door, but there was no silencing spell. The entire staff knew he had spent the afternoon possessing his half-sister. This new development in the relationship of the Master and Mistress might free a few servants from Vivaldi's lustful ministrations. The newer servants were repulsed by the incestuous nature of the pair, but the ones who had been in the Manor the longest simply said it was the Snape way, and left it at that.

Vivaldi turned over on his back, threw his arms out, then scooted around in the bed trying to find a cool place on his sheets. He had to get some rest.

Tomorrow was a day of decisions.

Hermione woke up a bit later than she intended the next morning. She rolled over and sat up on her elbows, blinking up at the sun, which was rather high in the sky. Her mind flitted back to the dream she had the night before and she colored even as she felt a wave of heat wash over her. Such a lucid, erotic dream about the Potions Master. She wondered if she would continue to have them when she returned to Hogwarts. She hoped so. They were so much better than twiddling herself to orgasm. Maybe when she left the island her virginity was no longer an issue, the dream Snape would finally deflower her.

Hermione had convinced herself that her subconscious was the very creative source of her dreams about Snape, and her interludes with him were the result of their unconsummated relationship. She had never gotten the chance to explore a relationship with the Professor after he expressed his interest in her at the Final Battle, so her mind was creating scenarios where this was possible. Very detailed, juicy, erotic scenarios at that. It was wishful thinking that he could be brought back to her. Her heart hurt a little bit at that thought.

"Great, Hermione," she told herself, "Falling in love with a dead man. How pathetic is that?"

Hermione roused herself, wriggled out of her sleeping bag, and stood up stretching. Raucous flew down from the tree and landed on her shoulder, rasping a greeting and giving her hair a "good morning" preen before hopping down to her pack and standing next to it expectantly, pecking at the flap a little. Hermione took the tie out of her hair, shook it out, then rebound it. She sniffed herself. She didn't smell bad at all. It seemed the self-cleaning clothing also cleaned her body in the process. It made sense. It wouldn't do to have clean clothes on a dirty body. She looked at the back of her trouser leg, where the wolf had grabbed her. There was a rip. If she ever took another journey she would be sure to have a self-mending spell on her clothing too. She walked over to her pack, and to Raucous' chagrin, pulled out another pair of trousers. He complained.

"Just wait a minute Raucous. I need to change," Hermione said to the hungry bird. As an afterthought, she pulled out a pair of knickers too. Her underthings were also self-cleaning but after her dream experience with the Professor, she felt she needed to change them anyway, even if it were only symbolic. Hermione looked around as if to see if anyone were watching her, then hesitated. She moved into the trees anyway and slipped off her trousers and her knickers.

Actually, two sets of eyes were watching her.

The first set belonged to Ozmadias, who was sitting on an outcropping on the mountain, his cold golden eyes taking in everything the witch did. He had slept on and off during the night. She was easy to observe this time, since she slept by the fire. He watched with interest as the wolves attacked. She was a very brave witch, if a small one. He also saw that she slept quite fitfully by the campfire, tossing and turning. At one point she let out a cry. After that, she'd slept peacefully. The bird blinked down at her as she walked into the trees to dress. She didn't have far to go to reach the tomb. Only a couple of hours of hiking up the last part of the trail. She would come to a fork, one clearly leading to the Manor, the other leading to the tomb. He would report to his Mistress before she reached the top of the mountain.

The second set of black eyes belonged to the Potions Master. Snape watched as she walked into the trees, but she couldn't hide from him since the image was focused exactly on her. He could pull the view back or move it closer. As she slipped off her pants…he zoomed in. Hermione removed her knickers and he got another nice little peep show before she slipped the next pair on. Her neatly trimmed pubic hair was starting to grow in, as was the hair on her legs. His black eyes glittered. He didn't mind hair at all.

Today was the day the path of his life would be decided. Snape imagined if anything went wrong with his resurrection, the tunnel leading to the land of light would return to collect him. He hoped that didn't happen. Drifting in the void had made him appreciate the life he had, as constrained as it was. With Voldemort gone, he would be free to live as he pleased. He might even pursue a future with Hermione if she would have him. Settle down. Have a family of brilliant bushy-haired black-eyed children. He knew he would never tire of the witch. He had been smitten with her for the past five years and imagined five hundred more wouldn't change his attraction. Snape was a wizard who appreciated what little good came into his life, having been denied happiness for so long during his service to the Order. He would never forget what that was like. If Hermione accepted him, he would make sure she would always know she was loved. It would not be the candy and roses kind of love. Snape was not the candy and roses type. More than likely his affection would be expressed as the possessive, territorial, testosterone-driven "you're my woman" kind of love. He hoped she could handle that.

When Hermione came in his arms last night, his last vestiges of doubt melted just as she did. He was not a wizard to easily give his heart. He had protected it for years. But he had watched Hermione grow up from a little girl during her time at Hogwarts. Not only was she brilliant, but she was kind, fiercely loyal, compassionate, loving and forgiving. This was not her personality…this was her soul. That she desired him meant more than lust. Not to say that she didn't lust after him, because it was quite clear that she did, but she was not the kind of witch that differentiated between her physical and emotional desires. She would invest everything in her need for him. If she accepted him, she would love him, if she didn't already. He was sure of this. To have that kind of love from a woman used to be something he didn't even allow himself to dream of, not the way he lived his life. But now, he was a free man, which meant he was free to accept and to give love. He had denied himself too long.

Snape watched as the witch emerged from the trees and walked over to her pack and the screeching Raucous. He smirked as he looked at the bird. The familiar had shown more gumption than he ever imagined he could. Snape was sure that Raucous would choose to stay with the witch upon his return. He was fine with that. The raven had never seemed happier and had blossomed under the attention and love that Hermione gave him. Snape had never had time or the inclination to provide the bird with much companionship. Raucous had simply been a convenience, a tool, and in Hermione's case a form of entertainment. The bird certainly gave her hell when he was with the Potions Master. Raucous was probably aware of Snape's attraction to the witch and thought her a threat. Now the bird had fallen in love with her himself and was extremely protective of her. Yes, they were a good match. Much better than he and the Potions Master had been.

Hermione gave Raucous a strip of jerky, which the bird wrangled into a manageable position and holding it securely with one clawed foot, began to tear at the tough meat, ripping strips off it and swallowing them down quickly.

Hermione made sure that the campfire was completely extinguished, rolled up her sleeping bag and tied it to her pack. She retrieved the flashlight and the warming stone. The tent was ruined. The wolf had torn a piece out of it. Hermione left it where it was. She would just have to scrounge for shelter on the way back down. She had noticed crevices and caves in the mountainside on her way up. She was sure she could find a safe place to bed down on the return trip. The witch hoisted her pack on her shoulders, looked up the mountain path and took a deep breath. This was it. She was going to finish her journey. Raucous landed on her shoulder and gave her an encouraging caw. She looked at the bird.

"We're almost there Raucous. We'll be able to return home soon," she said, looking down at the ring. It had brought them here. Hopefully it would take them home.

"Let's go," Hermione said to Raucous.

The bird put on his best 'road' face, which looked exactly the same as all his other expressions to Hermione. She smiled at him and they set off up the mountainside at a good clip. They ought to reach the top in about three or four hours.

88888888888888888888

Vivaldi sipped his coffee and stared out the setting room window. He had to go to the tombs and lie in wait. He had decided to make Venoma stay in the Manor, to keep her out of the equation. Instead, he planned to take a contingent of male servants. He had spoken to them this morning, and promised to have a few prostitutes brought up to the Manor for a reward for their service. This met with much approval, and quite a few men volunteered to assist him. He would have ordered their assistance otherwise, so it was best to appear willing.

Vivaldi would use his servants to approach the witch and try to get the ring. But he had one other backup plan that still kept him out of harm's way in case they failed. Vivaldi wasn't a coward, but he didn't believe in taking unnecessary risks. He didn't know how the ring would respond to an attack on Snape's messenger. He was a wizard who preferred to know what he was up against, and he had a strong sense of self-preservation. He would like to have the ring, but he had lived this long without it, and recently had re-established himself as the Lord of the Manor and Master of all who lived within its confines. But Venoma was right. He had to at least attempt to get the ring. If he failed, at least he would have tried.

"Good morning, brother," a low voice greeted him. He didn't turn around.

Vivaldi felt his half-sister's arms slip around his waist, and her slim body press against his back. He was very familiar with every inch of that body now, inside and out. He had left no part of it untouched. He felt Venoma press her lips to his throat, and smiled a little. The wizard took her hands from around his waist and turned to her, his black eyes sweeping over her. She had that sloe-eyed look that his concubines wore. She was completely taken by him now. Total domination had that kind of effect on some women. Venoma was one of those women.

The witch took an occasional lover from among the servants every now and then to relieve her urges. But the men, although they performed adequately would never let loose on their Mistress, because of her position. They took her with a kind of fear that they would be punished if they were too rough or too demanding and she had to direct them to do the things she wanted. Her half-brother was the first to take her without hesitation and had done things to her in ways no servant ever had. He talked to her when he took her, said things no servant would ever dare say as he took her. Dirty things. And it had excited her. Venoma suspected she had more earth-shattering orgasms in one afternoon than she had in her whole life.

Venoma had never known Vivaldi was capable of such strength. He had seemed so gentle, composing love songs, strumming his lyre and singing to her with soft longing in his sweet tenor voice. Venoma had perceived her half-brother as being weak. Not strong like the wizards that came before him, but more like an adoring puppy anxious to roll over whenever she commanded it, willing to do anything to please her. But the young wizard had finally shown her without a doubt he was cut from the same cloth as the tyrants before him. All she had to do was release the Snape genes in him by insulting him and questioning his manhood. Well, Vivaldi had shown her over and over he was definitely a man. A very virile one as well.

Vivaldi kissed his sister's hand, black eyes locking with black eyes.

"Good morning, sister," he purred, "I trust you slept well?"

"Like the dead, my brother," she replied, kissing him quite passionately.

Vivaldi pulled away, treating her like he would treat his overzealous concubines. Now that he had taken Venoma and the mystery was no longer there, he could handle her. She no longer had the power to bring him to his knees with lust and longing. He could have her when he wanted her now. He had tamed the shrew.

"Summon Ozmadias. I want to know the witch's progress," he commanded his sister. There was no longer need for the niceties of "please, sister" or "would you please?" His commands would be obeyed without question.

"Yes, my Lord," Venoma breathed.

She placed her pale fingers to her temple and summoned her familiar as Vivaldi opened the window, searching the sky expectantly. Soon he saw a speck approaching, growing larger. He stepped back from the window as Ozmadias squeezed his bulk on to the sill. Venoma approached him, and stroked his crest. The bird looked at her, sensing a change in her demeanor. She no longer felt dominant. He blinked at Venoma curiously, and subtly searched his mistress' mind as he sent her his images of Hermione. Ah, the wizard had mated with her and broken her. Well, that might make life a little easier on Ozmadias. He looked over at the wizard. He too felt different. More like the old ones. That was good too.

"The witch is almost at the tombs, Vivaldi," Venoma said, "We should go now and set up an ambush."

Vivaldi looked at Venoma coolly.

"There will be no 'we' Venoma," he said, leveling his eyes at her. "I have decided to remove you from the equation. It will be difficult enough getting the ring without worrying about your motives. I have decided it would be in my best interests for you to remain in the Manor while I see about the witch. That way there will be no 'accidents'"

"But…Vivaldi, I want to help," Venoma said, her eyes pleading.

Vivaldi snorted.

"I don't need or want your kind of help, sister. You are beautiful outside, but I know what beast lies within. You are a Snape too. And have the aspirations of a Snape. You would rule my Manor if you could, ousting or possibly killing me."

Venoma started to protest this. Vivaldi held up his hand, silencing her.

"Don't try to tell me otherwise, Venoma. You are staying here, under guard. If you injure any of my servants, you will pay dearly," he snarled at her. "You will obey me in this matter. Do I make myself clear, sister?"

Venoma stared at him insolently for a moment, then dropped her eyes, defeated.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered.

"Good. All I ask is that you continue to give me the respect due to the Lord of the Manor, sister, and your life here with me will be rewarding. You may still run the Manor as you wish. But you will attend me when I want you."

Vivaldi looked at her and his eyes softened somewhat.

"It may be, sister, that I will be unable to get the ring. If that is the case, then I will not be able to acquire a Snape bride from the outside, and we must keep our bloodline pure," he said, his black eyes falling to her belly. "In the event this happens, you will have to be the one to bear my heirs. As my wife and the mother of my children, your place in the Manor will be secured, and you will have greater freedom and power as well as a greater place in my heart. So obey me, Venoma. Give me no reason to harm you, sister," he said, taking the witch's hand and kissing it tenderly.

"Yes, my Lord," Venoma replied, even as she was mulling his words over. It would actually be in her best interest for him not to acquire the ring. As his wife, she would almost have equal power in the Manor. All she ever wanted was power.

Vivaldi let go of her hand and walked to the setting room door.

"You stay here," he said, "The servants will be outside these doors with orders not to let you leave until I return. Behave, my sister."

The wizard exited the rooms closing the door behind him.

Ozmadias watched the exchange with interest. Yes, power had definitely shifted hands in the Manor. Venoma looked at him.

"Go my pet. Watch and show me all that happens," Venoma said to the bird, stroking his crest once more. Ozmadias met her dark eyes, then nuzzled her hand. He liked the softer Venoma. He dropped out of the window and flew for the tombs.

Hermione stood at the fork in the road. There was a great outcrop of stone separating the forks. It was topped with boulders. To the left lay Snape Manor, an impressive edifice of stone, built more like a fortress than a mansion, with a gated portico and small rectangular windows that looked as if arrows would be shot out of them. Higher up she could make out glass windows and a sentry tower but couldn't tell if anyone was in it. She looked at the path to the right. It swerved around the outcropping and she couldn't see beyond the curve. Sparse brush and thin trees lined one side of trail. She took the right path heading for the tombs.

Vivaldi peeked down at the witch from the top of the outcropping. She certainly was a strange looking woman. Her hair was light brown and her eyes seemed to be gold. She was very small too. Not much bigger than a child of twelve or thirteen. But there was no mistaking her for a child. She had very feminine attributes, even if her strange clothing covered them. A black bird rode on her shoulder. Probably her familiar. Vivaldi turned to the group of wizards standing behind him. They were all servants from the Manor, twelve in all. They stood at attention as they watched their Lord and Master turn to address them.

"A witch is heading for the tombs," Vivaldi said to the men. "She has something that belongs to me in her possession. A ring with the letter 'S' on it, made from onyx. She is wearing it on her right hand. I want this ring returned to me. The man who actually plucks the ring from her finger may ask a boon of me, which I will grant if it is in my power."

The men murmured among themselves. A boon. They could ask Vivaldi for anything and he would be honor-bound to deliver it. However, the servants were shrewd, they knew not to ask for anything that would anger him. He might give it, then kill the servant afterwards…they had never seen Vivaldi do this, but other Snapes before him had. They noticed the change in the young wizard's demeanor. His look was blacker, more intense. His bearing was that of a leader, a ruler. There had been whispers that the real Lord of the Manor was Venoma, but those rumors had been quickly quashed today when Vivaldi called them to service. The command in his voice and stance let them know quickly he was a wizard to be obeyed.

"Yes, my Lord," came a dozen replies.

"She is walking to the tomb now. Intercept her at the tomb itself before she enters. It is not necessary to harm her, but if she resists, do what you need to do to retrieve the ring," Vivaldi instructed. "And I don't care what happens. If any of you flee, I will blast you myself."

The servants blanched at this. They knew their Lord wasn't making an idle threat. They had to get that ring.

"Go. She approaches," Vivaldi commanded the men. They all filed down the outcrop and turned to the left, headed for the tomb. Vivaldi watched them go.

He had a grudging respect for the witch. No one had made it up the mountain by foot in generations. Not even a Snape could take the mountain path without triggering its defenses. Whoever she was, Severus has chose wisely. She had done her best for him. What kind of man inspired such loyalty in others? Vivaldi's servants served him out of need and out of fear. He didn't delude himself that they were loyal to him. No matter. As long as they did what he commanded, he was fine with them.

Ozmadias settled on a Manor turret, watching the scene unfold. He saw Hermione approaching the tomb and the contingent of servants rounding the path. This should be interesting.

The first thing Hermione noticed was all signs of vegetation vanished. Nothing but stone lined the path now. Ahead of her was a face of rock, and in that face was a large black double door. It looked like it weighed a ton. The letter "S" was emblazoned on it in silver or white gold.. Hermione slipped her pack off and walked a bit closer to examine it. The door was overlaid with onyx and had no handle. Even if it did, she would not be able to pull the heavy stone open. She ran her fingers over the seam and felt a small indentation. She looked at it closer. It was a keyhole, a very small one. The Professor did not give her a key. How was she supposed to open the doors? She looked around. Piles of stones lay on either side of the great doors. She walked over to a pile and began to push on the stones, hoping to trigger the doors. Nothing happened. Suddenly Raucous let out a warning cry. Hermione spun and grabbed her staff, looking around.

A group of Lemurians approached, their brown eyes focused on her. The men stopped about thirty meters away.

"We have come for our Master's ring," one of the wizards said, "Give it to us and there will be no problems."

Hermione scowled at them. So, the Lord of the Manor sent his goons after her to get her ring. Well, no way.

"This ring was given to me by its rightful owner, Severus Snape. It does not belong to your Master," she retorted.

The men seemed surprised by this news and talked among themselves. Above them, Vivaldi watched the confrontation. He felt a bit uncomfortable at her statement. Still she was not a Snape. The ring should stay in the family.

The Lemurian turned back to her.

"The ring belongs to our Master. Give it to us, or we will take it by force," the man said, frowning at her. She was a small witch and didn't look very powerful. Suddenly something black dove at his face and he ducked. Raucous had taken a dive at him.

"Raucous! Get over here!" Hermione hissed.

Raucous was ready to fight. He flew to Hermione's shoulder and glared at the group of men threatening her. If he had hands…

"I will not give you this ring," Hermione said firmly. "I am here to fulfill the last wishes of a member of the House of Snape. You dishonor his memory by attempting to hinder me."

The men murmured among themselves again.

Vivaldi scowled at all the unnecessary conversation. They should just go for the ring.

The men ceased talking. Their Lord had given them orders and they would fulfill him.

"If you will not give us the ring, then we will take it," the man said, walking forward towards Hermione, who got a good grip on her staff and brought it to her shoulder, ready to take a swing. The wizard paused, then wriggled his fingers at her. The staff began to try to fly toward him. Hermione tried to hold on to it, but it dragged her toward the Lemurian. Finally she let it go and it flew to him. He caught it, and grinned at her. He dropped it on the ground and walked toward her.

"Look," he said, "I don't want to hurt you, but I need to get that ring. Now take it off, or I will have to remove it."

"No," Hermione said, backing up against the double doors and looking around for a weapon. Her eyes fell on several small stones. She picked them up and started throwing them at the wizard, who threw up his arms and kept approaching her. One rock got through, hitting him in the forehead. He stopped and rubbed his head, scowling at her. Then he started walking toward her with purpose, an angry frown on his face.

Raucous, unable to stand it any longer, flew straight at the wizard. But the wizard was fast and managed to grab hold of the bird, slamming him to the ground. Raucous was dazed and flapped ineffectively, unable to get up.

"Raucous!" Hermione screamed. She was so upset, she failed to see the ring had started to glow.

The angry servant approached Hermione, who tried to run around him to retrieve her fallen familiar. He caught her by the arm and flung her roughly back against the onyx doors.

"Now give me the damn ring!" he roared at the witch, holding out his hand. Hermione glared at him defiantly.

"No!" she said, taking a swing at him. The Lemurian caught her wrist and twisted it behind her back. It was her ring hand. He started to remove the piece of jewelry from her finger.

"I wouldn't touch it if I were you," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "The last wizard who touched it said it bit him, and then disappeared. No one could find him. You want that to happen to you?"

The servant hesitated.

"You lie!" he hissed.

"All right. Go ahead then, try to take it," Hermione breathed.

The servant hesitated again, then gripped the ring gently with his thumb and forefinger, wincing a bit. Nothing happened.

"It seems your ring has lost its teeth, witch," he gloated. He began to twist the ring. Hermione crooked her finger to impede the ring's removal. The servant pulled on her twisted arm, making her cry out.

"Stop resisting," he grunted.

He pulled on the ring, and suddenly started to tremble violently, releasing Hermione. Then the man was thrown back several meters, landing at the feet of his companions, unconscious.

Another of the servants knelt to check him. He placed his ear against his chest.

"He still lives," he said to the others. None of the servants were sure what happened. They all looked at Hermione, anger on their faces.

"Let's charge her," one servant whispered, "she can't get all of us." The rest agreed.

Hermione felt her ring become extremely warm on her finger. Warmer than it ever had before. It began to glow. Hermione hid it behind her back. If it were going to do something she didn't want to let the men know. Let them be taken by surprise.

The servants suddenly charged her. Raucous was still on the ground in front of them. The bird was about to be trampled to death.

"Raucous!" Hermione screamed, so afraid for the bird she thought nothing of herself.

As the wizards charged, a tendril of blue light flashed from behind Hermione's back, wrapped around Raucous and pulled him out of the path of the charging servants. Once the bird was clear the light increased in glow, moving forward independent of the ring and shielding Hermione from the onrushing wizards. The servants skidded to a stop a mere couple of meters from the sheet of energy that pulsated before the witch. They watched in open-mouthed horror as the light coalesced and lengthened, taking on an enormous solid, sinuous shape. Suddenly they were facing a huge blue serpent, balancing on its upper body high above them, the rest of its body coiled beneath it, its cold black eyes staring down at them. It opened its mouth revealing huge curved fangs and hissed at them.

From the outcropping, Vivaldi stared down in awe. The Guardian had manifested itself for the witch. This was impossible. The Guardian only came to the aid of Snape family members. Who was this witch? She was no Snape. He watched as the wizards began to back up and the great snake slid forward, following them.

Hermione stared at the snake in awe as it slunk forward toward the contingent of wizards. It was so large it could probably consume all of them. She wanted the men away from her, but she didn't want them to die. The snake stopped and turned back to look at her. It blinked its black eyes and nodded. Hermione couldn't move. The snake turned back to the men.

Suddenly the head of the snake shot forward, its blunt nose striking a wizard, knocking him back several meters. Then it struck another and another of the screaming men with powerful head blows, assaulting the wizards, knocking them left and right. The men scrambled to their feet, holding themselves painfully and fled from the tombs without looking back. The Guardian had driven them off without taking a single life.

The snake turned around and slid toward Hermione, who was frozen in place. It lowered its head until it was level with the witch, and flicked its tongue out, tasting her face. To Hermione it felt as if someone had brushed her cheek with a feather. Then the serpent nodded to her again, and diffused into blue light, which rushed back into the ring with a roar of wind. All was silent again. Hermione stared down at the ring in amazement.

From the outcropping above her, Vivaldi stared down at the witch, his mind working furiously. The Guardian was gone and she was currently unprotected. Time for his backup plan. A large boulder stood next to him. Vivaldi moved to the stone and pushed on it with all his strength. It would crush the witch against the tomb doors and he could retrieve the ring. The boulder resisted at first, but the wizard applied all his strength to it, and the great stone toppled off the edge of the outcropping, hit the ground heavily and rolled toward a startled Hermione. The witch was so shocked she couldn't move. Raucous, who was beginning to get his bearings, saw the boulder fall and cawed weakly at Hermione, trying to warn her to get out of the way. The great stone rumbled toward her. She was trapped in its path.

Suddenly a blue flash emitted from the ring, blasting the stone into powder. The entire area, including Hermione and Raucous was covered in the fine dust.

Vivaldi cursed and then beat a hasty retreat, half running, half sliding down the outcropping. He had seen the power of the ring was with the witch, and he wasn't going to fuck with it again. She could keep the cursed thing. Acquiring it wasn't worth losing his life over. The Snape family had survived fine without it for several generations. They could continue to do so. Severus wanted her to have it, and obviously the ring was linked with the witch. The wizard didn't have the power to break that link.

Vivaldi headed back to the Manor. Let her do what she came to do and get the hell off his mountain. He had enough.

Ozmadias observed the wizard fleeing the scene, his cold gold eyes following him. The familiar thought it a wise act. He was no match for the witch's ring. He continued to watch, curious to see the final outcome of the witch's journey.

Hermione ran over to Raucous and picked him up gently off the ground, brushing the boulder dust from his black feathers as best she could. The bird looked up at her, then sneezed.

"Are you all right Raucous?" she asked the bird, holding him tenderly against her body.

Raucous let out an exaggerated caw of weakness, and snuggled against her breasts. Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. He looked up, blinking at her with his beady eyes.

"That was brave of you, Raucous, trying to take on that wizard," she said softly, "foolish but brave. Thank you."

Raucous cawed a welcome then struggled to right himself in her arms. He succeeded. He was recovering. Luckily nothing was broken when he was slammed to the ground. He was only stunned by the impact. Hermione set him on the ground and attempted to brush the dust from her clothing. She was covered from head to toe in fine brown dirt. She did her best, but remained soiled. She stood there, looking down at herself.

"What a mess," she sighed.

Suddenly, the dirt began to fade, the color of her clothing brightening. After a minute or so, she was spotless. Ah, the self-cleaning charm. Even her hair was clean. Yes! Raucous looked up at her approvingly, before setting to work preening and shaking the dust from his black feathers

Hermione turned back toward the tomb doors, wondering how she was going to get them open.

"You didn't leave instructions, Professor," she breathed, her amber eyes sweeping over the enormous doors. "How am I going to get in here?'

The ring began to warm again, and a thin beam of blue light shot out of it and directly into the keyhole. Hermione heard a heavy click, then a thump, then a ponderous dragging sound. She stepped back as the doors slowly swung open with a rumble. The ring had granted her access. Hermione opened her pack and pulled out the fabric wrapped box, removed the cloth and held it in her hand. The box was warm and pulsing as if it were alive. She got a strange feeling in her belly as she remembered what the dream Professor had said. That she was sent here to resurrect him.

Hermione initially believed his claim was only part of a dream generated by her wishful subconscious, but now…holding the pulsating box in her hand, she wondered if what she experienced was truly a dream. Did she dare hope it was something more?

Hermione looked down at Raucous.

"We've almost completed our journey, Raucous. Come on, let's finish this," she said.

Raucous fluttered up to her shoulder, peering into the tomb. He cawed as something caught his eye. Hermione stepped closer to the doors also peering in. She froze.

"What is that?" she asked, cautiously walking forward and entering the tomb.

A/N: All right. The guardian showed up and rescued both Raucous and Hermione. Vivaldi beat a hasty retreat. Smart wizard. I just couldn't bring myself to kill the wizard off since he had just asserted himself as Lord of the Manor. He's squicky but hot. Also his death would have resulted in the Hourse of Snape on Mu dying out. We need villains. lol Now Hermione is entering the tomb. Obviously something strange is in there. Wonder what it is? Hmm. Guess we'll find out next chapter. Please review.