Chapter 2 ~ Enter the Potions Master
Potions Master Severus Snape strode down the corridor leading from the teacher's entrance to the main hall, his face in its trademark scowl as he billowed into the stream of students hurrying to breakfast. He had arrived early as he did every morning, eating his breakfast before the brunt of staff and students stampeded into the hall like starved bicorns, chattering incessantly and giving him indigestion.
When the tall dark wizard swerved into the main hall, looks of horror crossed the faces of every student as they cleared a path for him, some pressing against the walls and one witch almost upsetting a suit of armor in her haste to get out of the Professor's way. Bumping into Severus Snape was a sure way to be browbeaten, lose house points and get detention in that order. He was a miserable bastard who made everyone else around him miserable too.
A nasty smirk flickered across the wizard's pale face as the terrified students parted before him like the red sea. Inspiring abject terror in pupils was his second favorite pastime. Brewing potions was his first. He never slowed his stride, trusting the little buggers to make sure there was no contact with his person. The Potions Master turned down the dungeon corridor heading for his office and solitude, his best friend.
He passed a few of his Slytherins on the way down, who greeted him. He curled his lip in response, saying nothing. But they were used to that. Their Head of House was a man of few words after all, and the words he did speak usually meant someone was in a hell of a lot of trouble. He did counsel them, however, mostly telling them to "think" before they acted, no matter the situation. And he protected them when they were caught doing anything illicit, then punished them himself for being caught in the first place. They would have been better off getting their punishments from the teacher who caught them. The Professor was not known for his leniency.
The pale wizard stopped before his office door and unwarded it. He entered, his quick black eyes inspecting it quickly to make sure all was as it should be. He was a cautious man, and a distrustful one, who believed most of the students at Hogwarts were little more than thieves, and he had valuable herbs and ingredients in his office as well as his stores that they would probably love to get their grubby little hands on, then blow themselves to bits with. Not many had the aptitude for the exacting art of Potions, but it still didn't stop the idiots from trying to handle what they weren't prepared for. So he guarded his stores not just because he was covetous, but to keep the students from killing themselves.
He walked over to his desk and sat down, pinching the bridge of his enormous, hooked nose as he felt a headache coming on. Sighing, he opened the top drawer and took out a bottle of headache potion and swallowed about a spoonful. He had a lot of headaches, the only other way he got relief was sex. And he wasn't having much of it these days. There was a terrible outbreak of wizarding STD's at the brothel, almost every witch affected. He used protection but wasn't taking any chances. And the droves of silly women who flocked to him at the death of Voldemort had long since petered out. He was a hero, and all women loved a hero…until Severus was finished with them.
The wizard knew not one of those fawning witches would have given him a first look if not for the Order of Merlin he had tucked away in some drawer. They were looking to land a hero. Instead they landed on their backs in his four-poster, then on their asses when he threw them out. Silly twits. He knew they weren't attracted to his lank hair, big nose and pale skin. They wanted to use him…his status to raise their own. Severus hated being used. He had been used by Albus and Voldemort for years. When he was freed of his service he swore he would never be used again by anyone.
True, his voice made witches shudder as did his eyes but few even got close enough for him to use his natural gifts effectively. And when the furor of Voldemort's death died down, so did the willing witches. Severus suspected word of mouth also added to the demise because he treated them like the little status whores they were when they did come. It was their own faults. The Potions Master hated falseness, and the witches that sought him out were as false as they came.
"Why are you really here?" he would ask them, "What do you really want from me?"
A witch would usually confess she were interested in "possibly starting a relationship." Severus would respond that he would have to try her out first to see if they were "compatible." Some walked out, but a surprising amount agreed to be "tested." Severus got more blowjobs and pussy than he knew what to do with. Actually he did know what to do. Enjoy it then toss them out on their ears.
So now he was stuck with his headaches and his elixirs.
The Potions Master put the bottle of headache potion back in the drawer, closed it and looked over the stack of marked parchments for his next class. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered continuing to teach. The majority of his students seemed to have holes in their heads through which every bit of knowledge he imparted slipped through. Oh, there were one or two that had the ability to absorb his teachings in a reasonable amount of time, but the rest…gods…they seemed clueless.
But Severus stayed at Hogwarts because he knew if he left, then he would become a recluse. If nothing else, teaching kept him stimulated. He earned enough residual galleons to be able to live quite well without working, but he needed to work, to keep busy, to have just a touch of socialization, even if it was with a bunch of dunderheads.
He gathered his papers together, warded his office door and walked through the side door that led to his Potions classroom. He unwarded the door, put the parchments on his desk, then walked to the back to retrieve the ingredients for the day's lesson. The pupils were brewing exploding powder today…very minute amounts. He figured at least one student would end up having to have his or her fingers reattached, despite the fact they were fifth years and should know proper safety measures.
He rolled the cart holding the ingredients into the class, settling it next to his desk where he could watch the students retrieve them. Then he retrieved a few burners and cauldrons, spacing them on the desks. The students would each work with a single partner. Maybe they could keep each other from blowing up their cauldrons. The Potions Master then reached into his lowest drawer and took out a slew of items designed to hold the students together long enough to get them to the infirmary. Magical bandages, blood replenishers, pain potions and healing elixirs for lesser wounds. He placed these on a small table behind and to the left of his desk.
Severus then walked to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk and began to write the instructions for brewing in a clear legible print. Normally he wrote dragonscratch, but the little cretins needed to be able to follow the directions clearly. He had just finished when the class started filing in, the first students taking the back rows as usual. The more unfortunate were closer to the wizard, and sitting targets.
The Professor sat down at his desk and folded his hands, frowning slightly as the students took their distant seats.
He patiently waited for his class to fill and another (snort) fun-filled day to start.
Hermione Granger was at breakfast when an owl she assumed was from the owl post landed in front of her. It was a rather frightening looking bird. Very pale colored, with wide dead gray eyes. It refused the bit of bacon she offered it…and when Hermione drew her hand back to replace the bacon on her plate, the owl bit her finger, drawing a bit of blood. Hermione gave a little shriek of pain as the owl seemed to swallow some, then hooted hoarsely and flapped away, leaving Hermione sucking at the small wound. It bled quite a bit and she had to hold a paper napkin over it for several minutes before the blood coagulated and the bleeding stopped.
"Bloody bird," she muttered, turning over the parchment envelope.
It was bright pink and had the Love Bites logo on the front. The back was sealed with a deep crimson wax. She cracked the seal, her fellow staff members stealing curious glances at the bright pink missive. Hermione never got mail. Who would be writing her? By the color of that parchment, it certainly wasn't a wizard.
Sybil Trelawney chuckled at the thought. Hermione…corresponding with a man. He'd have to be blind. If not for Hermione, Sybil would be the most unattractive witch at Hogwarts. But Sybil knew how to fix herself up, while Hermione did absolutely nothing with herself. It was as if the witch didn't have a clue. Sybil was glad of that. Hermione wasn't truly ugly, she was just packaged wrong and needed her teeth fixed.
Hermione's parents were dentists, and for years insisted Hermione use the muggle ways of dentistry to fix her bucked teeth. Every night she dutifully screwed on the retainer just as she had since she was seventeen years old, when her parents changed their tactics…but there was no improvement she could see after eight years. Her parents still had quite a hold on her, which pretty much was the norm for people as introverted as Hermione was socially. She could hold her own in intellectual conversations, and was quite outspoken and stubborn when she had a theory or point to make, but unfortunately that trait didn't extend to other parts of her life. Her parents kept at her to use the contraption, and she obeyed them, all the while knowing it was doing no good. She was a coward when it came to disobeying them, even though she was a grown witch now. It didn't help that her mother pointed out everything that was wrong with her and her life. She hated visiting.
The first question out of her mother's mouth was always, "Are you seeing anyone yet, Hermione?" followed by "I'll be dead before I see a grandchild." Then she would launch into her usual blunt criticisms of the brilliant witch. Sometimes Hermione wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up, but couldn't disrespect her mother that way…so she took it, hightailing it back to Hogwarts as quick as she could, then spending a bit of time crying before returning to her busy but empty life.
Hermione, like Severus lived at Hogwarts for the most part in solitude. The other witches on staff went out, socialized and had a ball with each other. Hermione had tried to be part of their clique when she first was hired by Albus. They had gone out to the Three Broomsticks for drinks. After a couple of hours and a couple of drinks, Hermione excused herself to use the bathroom. When she returned, she heard the witches laughing about how unattractive she was and how she even made Sybil look good. Hermione left without a word and refused to go out with them again, no matter how much Minerva coaxed her. The transfiguration teacher had been laughing too, and the consumption of alcohol was no excuse as far as Hermione was concerned. She was deeply hurt by the witches and didn't associate with them very much after that. When she did it was usually in some kind of work-related manner, and even then she was formal and closed-mouthed. Eventually the witches assumed Hermione thought she was "too brilliant" to associate with normal-brained witches and became cattier than ever. Not that Hermione cared. They could talk about her all they wanted.
Marcus Delaluci took a precursory glance at the witch and the envelope she held in her hand. As far as the blonde, violet-eyed wizard was concerned, the Spells Mistress was a non-entity. There was nothing remotely attractive about her as far as the wizard could see. If he fucked her, he'd have to put a bag over her head…and Marcus liked to watch witches' faces contort, so that was out of the question. Hermione's face was contorted enough as is. He wouldn't even trust the witch to give him a blowjob with those teeth. The wizard returned to his meal, not the least bit curious about the parchment the witch received.
Albus looked over his half-moon glasses with interest. Hermione didn't receive much mail, and she looked a bit excited as she read the parchment, smiling broadly. The witch didn't smile much because it made her buck teeth even more pronounced. But she didn't seem to worry about that as she folded up the letter and put it in her pocket. She couldn't seem to stop smiling as she hurriedly finished her breakfast, then exited the Great Hall, the witches looking after her.
"What do you suppose all that was about?" Pomona asked Sybil, who shrugged.
"Maybe it was a confirmation of the receipt of order for another slew of books she can snuggle up to," the Divinations teacher replied. The other witches tittered. Sybil had once suggested that Hermione masturbated with books, and it was an image that never left the group.
Witches could be so cruel.
Hermione nearly danced down the dungeon corridor where her rooms were located, something completely out of character for the witch.
"I've won. I'm going to get an entire makeover," she gushed to herself. "They say they can make me beautiful. Oh gods, I hope they can."
Hermione let herself into her rooms happily, walked straight to her desk, sat down, picked up quill and parchment and began to write her reply of acceptance to Mr. Adam Sweetmeats. He said it would be a three day process. Hermione believed she might need a month…but these people were experts. Maybe they could really help her. She'd have to take this Friday off, but didn't think it would be a problem since she didn't teach classes.
Hermione couldn't wait until this weekend.
An enthusiastic Hermione exited the Headmaster's office. Albus had granted her Friday off, his blue eyes twinkling at the witch's excitement. The Headmaster was glad the witch was taking an interest in her appearance. He always saw her as a young woman with great inner beauty, compassion, empathy as well as brilliance. Hermione was so focused on her pursuit of knowledge however, she never truly cared about the physical upkeep of being a witch. As long as she was clean, she was fine.
The Headmaster shook his head and smiled. A prize at Hogwarts had been overlooked for far too long. Quite a lot of people were in for an awakening. He only hoped that Hermione would remain the level-headed witch she was and not be swept away by the new focus that would be placed on her. He hoped she would remain true to herself and be able to see beyond surface appearances. If she lost touch with who she really was, it would be a great loss indeed and possibly quite a painful one as she dealt with wizards who had nothing more on their minds than getting her heels in the air.
Behind the Headmaster, Fawkes crooned a comforting little song. Albus turned around, feeling the sweet trills of his friend and familiar take hold and soothe his soul.
"Thank you, Fawkes. I needed that," the Headmaster said to the Phoenix, who arched his neck gracefully in acknowledgement.
As Hermione walked down the stairs smiling, she met Severus who was on his way up to the Headmaster's office. He didn't look too pleased about it. Politeness required the witch to speak.
"Good morning, Professor," Hermione said to the wizard.
Severus' black eyes shifted toward the Spell Mistress for a moment, then he passed wordlessly, pulling his robes aside so they wouldn't come in contact with her. Hermione turned and watched him stalk up the stairs.
He had to be the most rude and miserable man at Hogwarts.
She continued down the stairs, heading for her labs, her heart feeling lighter than air.
Severus entered the Headmaster's office. Albus smiled brightly at him.
"Good morning, Severus," he said to the wizard, who took a seat in front of the Headmaster.
Severus looked at him coolly.
"Good morning, sir," he responded. "I don't have long between classes, so I hope this meeting will be relatively quick if not painless."
The Headmaster quirked his lip. Severus would remain in the dungeons day and night if he could. Albus had to admit sometimes he summoned him to his office just to get him out of the dismal surroundings. The Potions Master knew it too, and didn't appreciate it at all. He would have told the Headmaster too, if he wasn't his employer. So he sat there sullenly, waiting to see what nonsense the old wizard wanted to talk to him about now.
"I just wanted to inform you Severus, that our Spells Mistress has been working on a project that will interest you greatly. We kept it hush-hush so we didn't raise anyone's hopes too much. She has been working on the problem of removing the Dark Mark, using the severed limbs of deatheaters," the Headmaster said.
Severus' eyes widened slightly, but other than that, he showed no reaction. Albus and Harry Potter had killed Voldemort at the Final Battle through a combined effort…the Headmaster holding the wizard in a powerful magical binding spell that rendered the despot powerless for several seconds, long enough for Harry to disembowel and behead the wizard with Godric Gryffindor's sword. At his death it was believed the Dark Mark would simply disappear, but it hadn't. Instead, the mark remained, occasionally flaring up and causing the wearer agonizing pain as if being summoned. The pain could last anywhere from several minutes to several hours. No relief could be found because the Dark Lord was dead, so this Phantom Summons could not be answered.
Most of the limbs Hermione used came from deceased deatheaters, but a few were from wizards and witches that still lived, who were driven so insane by the pain they sliced their arms from their bodies and refused to have them reattached. Severus knew how they felt. He had spent many nights in his rooms, wrapped in a silencing spell, screaming in pain until the summons subsided, not to mention the few times he had to dismiss his classes early because he felt the summons coming on.
Severus looked at the Headmaster.
"I see why you believe this news would interest me, Headmaster…but this is the Spell Mistress' project. I would be more interested in hearing about her success than her attempts at success," he said silkily. "Attempts are nothing but failures."
Albus' eyes darkened a bit.
"I called you here, Severus, because the Spells Mistress has gone as far as she can with severed limbs. She needs a living subject," he said evenly.
Severus scowled.
"And you expect that human niffler to be me, I suppose," the Potions Master said, his voice taking on a bit of an edge.
Albus nodded.
"Precisely. You stay here at the castle after all, Severus, and one would think you'd have a vested interest in this project…" the Headmaster began.
"Why not use prisoners? Azkaban is full of deatheaters," Severus said darkly.
"Because the security and secrecy involved is prohibitive, that's why Severus. We would have to sneak them in and out of Hogwarts. Someone would discover what was going on sooner or later. Besides, the Ministry is not willing to use their Aurors to assist us in transporting convicted deatheaters and are of the opinion that former deatheaters deserve to suffer for their service to the Dark Lord whether they have been cleared or not. You are our best option, Severus," Albus said.
The dark wizard stared at the Headmaster.
"Are you going to order me to do this, Albus?" he asked, using the Headmaster's given name when things became personal.
Albus sighed.
"I hoped I would not have to, Severus. Miss Granger's success will be of benefit to you as well. I should think you would like to end the torment you go through," the old wizard said quietly.
Severus had no idea how painful Hermione's experimentation on his living flesh would be. Dead limbs had no feelings. He did. He had a strong tolerance for pain, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. The Spell Mistress' ministrations might be more painful than the Phantom Summons.
"I don't like the idea of acting as a lab animal, Headmaster," Severus said.
Albus sighed again.
"I'm afraid Severus, that's exactly the role I am requiring you to play. The Spell Mistress will contact you when she is ready. You will report to her, and you will cooperate with her. In the end, Severus…you will find it was all worthwhile," Albus said.
Severus silently cursed the old wizard sitting in front of him. He was just as controlling as he ever was. The only way the wizard could get out of this service was to resign his post as Potions Professor. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts. It was his home.
"Yesss, just as I did when I was a spy, eh Albus?" the wizard replied bitterly. "All that suffering and sacrifice for a trouncing at the hands of the Ministry, then a bit of gold hanging on the end of a ribbon to ease their collective consciences."
The Potions Master was referring to his Order of Merlin, which he didn't give a shit about. The Ministry tried to lock him up first and he was interrogated in the most brutal manner before they released him and turned him into a hero because of Albus' intervention and the testimony of Order members. The medal was a bandage. More falseness.
The Headmaster didn't respond. He knew Severus was a very bitter man. Still, he had obligations he had to fulfill as an employee of Hogwarts. His assistance could end the suffering of many, many people who had returned to society as solid members. The punishment had to end.
Severus rose.
"Thank you for the talk, Headmaster," he said sarcastically, "As always you have made my day."
He exited the office in a billow of robes, the Headmaster looking after the wizard sadly. He was such a miserable man. Maybe working closely with the witch would help his social skills if nothing else.
Sighing, Albus picked up a stack of budget projections and started working on them to present before the Board of Governors for next year.
Severus stormed down the stairs and out into the main corridor, his face black. He was itching to hex something or someone as he mounted the shifting stairs. A lab animal for a former student. How the fuck could Albus do this to him?
Not that he didn't think Hermione wasn't brilliant. She was and he grudgingly admitted it. If anyone could solve the Phantom Summons, that walking brain could. It was no wonder she was so good at what she did. She did nothing else but Spells Work and was an old maid at age twenty-five. The Potions Master always suspected she would end up that way. She never had any designs on attracting wizards as far as he could see. Knowledge had always been her bedfellow, even as a student. When the other young witches were trying out their wiles, painting their faces and tightening their wardrobes, Hermione was always someplace with her face stuck in a book.
Sometimes Hermione came to class a complete fright, her hair snarled like a rat's nest, her eyes hollow and skin sallow because she had been studying so intensely she hadn't eaten, slept or combed her hair. Her fellow classmates commented on it and teased her unceasingly, but she never responded to their barbs…she just kept right on learning and learning and learning. Her reward was the highest marks Hogwarts had seen in fifty years. She then went on to university and the Professor imagined she was much the same way, focused only on earning her degree and high honors.
As far as her attractiveness went, it really didn't matter to the Professor how the witch looked. He wasn't interested in her or any of the staff members. He didn't associate with them much, only when called to those annoying staff meetings where he spoke just enough to keep Albus satisfied he was participating. And those damn celebrations the Headmaster had on every possible holiday, where he was forced to hang cherubs, hearts and other decorations as well as attend the damned festivities and oversee students, making sure they weren't putting firewhiskey in the punch. He didn't give a fuck if they all had hangovers the next day…but he was a teacher at Hogwarts, and it was his job to protect students from themselves.
If left to his own devices, Severus would let the students drink until they puked. That would be a far more effective lesson than stopping them. But of course, that would never do. They'd have to get much older and be outside the walls of Hogwarts when they found out what too much liquor could do. Yes, Albus…that was really preparing them for life.
The wizard turned down the hallway, pissed that he hadn't run into any errant students that he could slake his rage on. Taking fifty points from a Gryffindor because his tie was crooked would have helped his mood immensely. Ah well. He was in for it now. The Spells Mistress could do whatever she wanted to him and there wasn't a thing he could do about it except glare at her. There would be plenty of glaring to be sure. He just hoped she wouldn't be drawing blood. He hated losing any blood. He had lost enough under Voldemort.
He arrived in class just as the last student sat down in the front row, looking fearful. The young wizard had arrived too late for a back row seat and looked nervously at the tall, pale Potions Master as he sat down. Severus glared at the students for several moments, then said in a quiet, soothing voice, "I realize that I told you we would spend this period reviewing. But I have changed my mind. Books away, quills out. It's pop quiz time, boys and girls."
The students all groaned as Severus smirked nastily, stood up and walked to the blackboard to write down the quiz questions.
It was good to be the king.
A mist illuminated by a full moon covered the ground in an abandoned graveyard, wrapping around the cracked and brittle tombstones whose namesakes were long forgotten. The heads and limbs of stone angels, demonic figures and carved images of the dead littered the earth, and vermin moved freely among the debris.
This cemetery was located a few kilometers from the parish of Pluckley, a small muggle town perching on the edge of the North Downs deemed to be the most haunted village in England. There was a small population of residents, all of whom were proud of their ghosts.
A rotund robed figure walked through the mist, stepping over the fallen stones and stopping in front of a small unassuming grave which only had a plaque rather than a headstone, and even that was almost completely covered with earth. The wizard pulled out his wand and pointed it at the grave.
"Dissendium," the wizard breathed.
The face of the grave lowered slightly then slid to the left, revealing a staircase. The wizard descended into the dark depths, torches flaring up to light his way as soon the grave closed behind him. The wizard then walked up a stone corridor which opened on to a large circular room. His skin prickled as he passed through the stasis spell that encased it. In the room was a cooler, a small stove, a long table with a single wooden chair, a twin-sized bed, a wardrobe, a self-cleaning chamber pot and in the center of the room, a pedestal on which sat a glass beaker.
It was full of blood and covered by a small mesh screen.
A large gallon jug sat on the floor next to the pedestal. One quarter of it was filled with a black liquid.
"I am here, Master," Peter Pettigrew said to the beaker of blood, walking over to it and removing the mesh top reverently.
The wizard lifted the gallon jug, unscrewed the top and tilted a single drop of the liquid into the blood, which turned black and bubbled for a moment, then calmed, returning to its rich crimson color. Peter put the top back on the jug and returned it to its resting place. He then replaced the mesh screen.
"Your feeding is done, my Lord, but since Nagini's death last month, I have not been able to brew any more elixir. When this jug is finished, it will be over, my Lord. If you are going to do something, I suggest you do it quickly," the wizard said, staring at the unresponsive beaker. "I cannot keep your blood alive much longer."
He stared at the blood for several moments, then sighed. Still nothing.
When Voldemort was resurrected using the bone of his father, Peter's hand and Harry Potter's blood, the first thing he did was to locate the desolate graveyard and create this underground dwelling. He brought his loyal servant with him and filled the beaker with his blood, charging Peter to keep it alive, no matter what happened. Like the Dark Lord, the blood required an elixir made with Nagini's venom to remain viable. A stasis spell was built into the stone to keep the blood from aging and dying as would be its normal cycle. A powerful anti-apparition ward as well as other protections were installed as well. No one could apparate into this chamber, not even Peter. It was this blood that was the source of the Phantom Summons. It held Voldemort's magical signature and at times would involuntarily send out the Call. This unnatural occurrence did not affect all deatheaters in the same fashion. Some would suffer for hours, others would only get a moment's worth of pain. Then it would be gone.
Peter himself did not suffer badly when the Phantom Summons was invoked. He merely had to enter the chambers and the pain would stop because he was in the presence of the Dark Lord's living blood, which was just as effective as being in the presence of the Dark Lord himself. So the animagus was spared the torment of the other former deatheaters.
At first, when the Aurors found out captured deatheaters were being summoned, they apparated with the prisoners, afraid that somehow Voldemort had returned. This graveyard was the same graveyard the Dark Wizard had been resurrected in. After a careful search, and more such "false alarms" the Ministry wrote it off as the graveyard retaining some of the wizard's residual signature from the powerful magic invoked to revive him, and just wrote it off as a magical oddity of no real consequence. The wizard had been dead for six years now and his body had been carefully destroyed.
Peter faithfully and fearfully tended the blood, half-afraid that one night he would descend into the depths to find his red-eyed Master waiting for him, completely restored. Voldemort never did tell him what the blood was for, but Peter figured it was to keep him connected to the earth somehow, so eventually he could be restored.
The blood was a lot less than Peter had to work with the last time he resurrected Voldemort. The Dark Lord had a small, rudimentary body the first time, a gnarled, ghastly infant-like body which he managed to form through constantly imbibing the blood of unicorns. But the unicorn blood could only do so much, and Peter was required to perform a ritual to return Voldemort to his full semi-human form. The Dark Lord left him no instructions on what to do with his blood other than keep it alive.
But the room provided the wizard with a place to stay. Most believed him dead, a casualty of the Final Battle. But Peter Pettigrew was a coward and at the first opportunity, transformed to his animagus form of a rat and scampered away to safety, then disapparated to the graveyard, where he hid himself. He had been here ever since.
Living outside of England's most haunted parish was quite beneficial. When Peter needed food he simply cast an Accio spell stating what he wanted and in a few moments it would appear, flying straight into his waiting arms. When food, newspapers and other items began crashing through windows and soaring away, the muggle villagers took it as yet another manifestation of their resident ghosts and for the most part kept their windows open so they would remain intact as the food and other items disappeared into the night. They had no idea why ghosts would want food and newspapers, but the spirit world was a mystery and they loved their ghosts and didn't begrudge them a thing. Besides, the residents of the parish were used to it now. It had been going on for years. So Peter was quite well-off.
His nightly duty done, the wizard made himself a ham sandwich and retired to his bed, picking up the latest issue of Playwizard he had accio'd last night off the floor. Peter reclined against the headboard, lowered the front of his boxers, pulled out his short, thick cock and began to enjoy the magazine interactively.
He found it an excellent way to pass the time.
Hermione woke up early Friday morning, showered and hurried down to breakfast early. It was only six am. She had four more hours before her appointment, but was too excited to stay in bed any longer. She thought about trying to make herself more presentable, but decided against it. That was Mr. Sweetmeat's job.
Severus was already in attendance at this early hour and scowled blackly as Hermione entered the Great Hall, bringing to mind his service to her. The witch walked past him without her usual greeting attempt. The wizard hunched over his oatmeal, quickening his eating pace. With just the two of them here, the witch might just try to strike up a conversation, and he wasn't interested.
But this wasn't the complete truth. Despite his hatred of his situation of having to serve as a two-legged niffler for Hermione, he was mildly curious as to what she had found out about the Mark. It did torment him after all, maybe she had some better explanation for it than "a magical oddity" which was the Ministry's take on it.
Severus cut his eyes over at the witch. She was eating a very greasy sausage, and sopping up the grease with a thick piece of bread. Severus returned to his meal. He'd find out sooner or later what she knew. He finished his meal and exited the Great Hall, striding swiftly down the corridor, into the main hall and down the dungeon corridor.
The moment he disappeared, Sybil Trelawney appeared on the shifting staircase above. She had decided on an early breakfast. Maybe she'd get a chance to flirt with the Potions Master, who always ate his meals early.
Sybil's idea of flirting with Severus was to stare at the wizard until he became distinctly uncomfortable and on the verge of hexing her. Severus had made the mistake several year ago of fucking the witch after a staff party held at the Three Broomsticks. He had consumed quite a bit of alcohol and the details were sketchy, but suffice it to say he was horrified when he woke up the next morning and found a skinny, bangled arm thrown across his chest, and Sybil sound asleep beside him, naked.
He pulled back the sheet and heaved, rolling out of the bed and racing to the bathroom. He managed to make it. Sybil Trelawney looked as if she were a practicing anorexic. Her breasts were tiny and flabby, her body gaunt with almost every bone visible. Gods, he had to be really drunk to have taken her to his rooms. He looked in the mirror at himself and nearly screamed as he ripped the Divination teacher's knickers from off of his head.
He quickly got Sybil dressed and out, telling the hung over witch the night was a mistake, he had no recollection of it, nor wanted one. Nor did he want her coming back. Sybil was convinced that Severus really did want her back, but was in denial. What kind of wizard could fuck a witch the way he did and not feel anything?
Severus was that kind of wizard.
Hoping to revive the wizard's ardor, Sybil sent Severus a pensieve that began from their entry into his bedroom. He found the pensieve wrapped in parchment outside his office door and brought it inside. The attached note only said: For Professor Snape.
He unwrapped the pensieve, stuck a finger in it and after viewing it for ten horrified seconds, threw it against the wall and shattered it into pieces. Then he went back into his rooms and showered. He felt absolutely filthy.
Sybil entered the Great Hall through the student's entrance, jangling up the center aisle. She was disappointed Severus wasn't there. Maybe he was late. She looked up at Hermione and her eyes narrowed a bit.
"Hermione, have you seen Professor Snape this morning?" Sybil asked her as she walked up the dais and down to her seat.
Hermione blinked at her for a moment, then looked at the Professor's empty seat.
"Yes, he was here before I arrived. I imagine he finished his breakfast and left," the witch said.
Sybil ordered a soft boiled egg and toast, then looked at Hermione suspiciously. She did stay in the dungeon area where the Professor resided. Hermione might look a fright, but she was still a younger witch than she was.
"What are you doing here so early?" Sybil asked Hermione as she tapped her egg with a spoon and pulled back the shell casing. She sprinkled a bit of salt and pepper on the contents. "You weren't following Professor Snape were you? He wouldn't take a second look at you, you know."
Hermione looked at Sybil, her unibrow raised incredulously, arching like a chestnut rainbow over her eyes. Professor Snape wouldn't take a second look at anyone. Not that she wanted him to look. Well, that wasn't completely true. She wanted to be a witch that every wizard took a second look at. So technically Snape fell into the "look at me" category. She scowled at Sybil.
"No, I'm not 'following Professor Snape.' I have a lot to do this morning and had an early breakfast. Really Sybil, you have some nerve suggesting such a thing," Hermione said.
"You could be desperate," Sybil said, "In case you did have your sights on him I just wanted to make it clear that he's off-limits. He and I have a kind of…thing going on between us."
Hermione grimaced. Sybil was welcome to whatever thing between the two. She didn't even want to imagine it. At the back of her mind, she thought Sybil was probably delusional. The witch doubted Severus Snape would be interested in someone as flighty and wooly as a Divination teacher of Sybil's dubious skills. Hermione was still of the opinion she was an old fraud, who thought spooky voices and burning great amounts of incense could substitute for True Sight. The idea of the two of them as a couple was almost laughable. In fact, Hermione did chuckle without realizing it.
"What are you laughing at," Sybil demanded, her eyes narrowing meanly. "At least I can say I have a man who I have been intimate with. Can you say that about anyone? No. You can't."
Ew. Sybil and the Professor intimate? As in fucking? Oh, this was too much. Hermione rose.
"Have a good day, Sybil," she said, hurriedly exiting the Great Hall.
Hermione really could have lived a long and relatively happy life without that information. She doubted the witch would have made such a claim about the Professor if there wasn't some truth in it. She shuddered.
"Ew, ew, ew," she breathed as she turned down the dungeon corridor. As she approached her rooms, she saw Severus, apparently coming from Slytherin house, stop in front of his office to let himself in. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed.
The witch shuddered visibly and hurried into her rooms, slamming the door behind her.
"What was that about?" the wizard wondered idly, then entered his office. Who cared really?
He sat down at his desk and looked over some parchments, waiting for his first class.
At ten minutes to ten, Hermione stood nervously outside of Love Bites Beauty Shop. The windows were heavily tinted. She thought she saw movement inside but no one opened the door. So she waited anxiously.
Adam apparated to the closest public apparition point and daintily made his way to the shop. Adam was a vampire Queen and could move about freely in sunlight, the only price he paid was he lost his vampiric powers in direct sunlight. In the old days, vampire hunters would lure a Queen out into the light of day to kill her, since she lost her strength and abilities and was like a mortal woman. But no one hunted Adam. He and his clutch didn't hunt humans, but subsisted on rare steaks and animal blood. In addition to Victor, Adam ruled over about one hundred minions. Minions were lower vampires, those instantly converted to vampires in one bite. The transformation was so fast however, that it fried their brains for the most part and their forms were sub-human. You could tell they were vampires by their animal-like features. They were connected to the Queen and were more like loyal dogs than individuals.
Adam inherited his minions from the old Queen, Vashti, whom he killed after being bitten by Victor, who intended on turning him into a minion after drinking his blood. However, Adam was more female on the inside then he imagined. Instead of becoming a minion, he became a Queen. With this particular type of vampire, human females died when bitten by a minion, but turned to Queens when bitten by a Sentient. Sentients were intelligent vampires that were turned slowly by a Queen in order to retain their minds and physical forms. The turning was completed when the tainted individual sought out the Queen for mating. Sentients were forbidden to partake of human females at all by their Queens. To do so was an act of betrayal as it would result in the creation of a rival. Adam was an accident. But he still slaughtered the former Queen and reigned in her stead. He was a good Queen as well, fixing up the catacombs, treating the minions with kindness, taking humans completely off the menu and spoiling Victor rotten. Victor initially wasn't thrilled to be the consort of a male Queen, but it was either that or death, and Adam grew on him. He was a very affectionate Queen and treated Victor with respect, consulting with him on important decisions, dressing him well, and being a good companion outside of intimacy. Vashti never cared anything about what he thought or how he looked. She ordered him about like a slave. Adam was much better, and the handsome consort had a fierce protectiveness for his Queen.
Adam Sweetmeats turned and strode up the lane where his beauty shop rested. He saw Hermione immediately. She looked as she did in the picture. Adam clucked his tongue and sashayed up to the witch, who looked at him in surprise as he offered her a limp-wristed hand.
"Adam Sweetmeats honey. You can call me Adam," the Queen said.
Hermione didn't take his hand but looked at him oddly.
"You're a vampire," she said, her voice small.
"Right in one, Precious. And you're a witch in need of some beyond the grave help," Adam replied grasping her hand. Hermione shivered. The vampire's hand was freezing.
"How…how are you out in the sun? It should kill you," she asked Adam.
"Dearie, it would take more than a little sun to kill a Queen," he said, smiling at her and showing his sharp eyeteeth. They were retracted of course.
Hermione stared at him. A Queen? Well, it was obvious the vampire-wizard was gay, but she was sure the Queen designation meant more than that. Suddenly the door to the beauty shop opened and Victor appeared, standing just outside the bit of sunlight that splashed in when he did so. Hermione looked up at the tall, pale and very handsome vampire, who looked back at her steadily, not saying anything.
"That's Victor. He's my consort. He's also a Sentient vampire. Gorgeous, isn't he?" Adam gushed as Victor smirked at him. "Too bad sunlight would turn him into a pile of ash. He has to stay inside the shop all day."
Hermione quirked her unibrow, which made for an interesting effect.
"How is it that vampires own a beauty shop in Diagon Alley?" the witch asked, fascinated now.
"Well sweetie, we aren't a threat. I petitioned the Ministry and they sent observers to check us out and after a year Victor and I were granted the right to walk among you. The minions weren't however, which is just as well. They aren't too bright. I always wanted a beauty shop, and when I inherited the clutch, I also inherited the treasure trove. I'm disgustingly rich. So I got a business license and opened up "Love Bites." Business is very good. I'd be up to my fangs in witches right now if I hadn't put the word out I wasn't accepting customers today. Yesterday was pure madness…but for the next three days my shop is your shop. I have accommodations set up for you as well in the lower level. When you leave here, you'll look and feel like a new woman…but you won't be. You will still be the same woman though other people will claim you are different. What we are going to do here is change you outwardly but keep your inner beauty. It is important that you do that my dear, to avoid becoming superficial," the vampire said.
Hermione was warming up to the vampire. He seemed to have a good heart and good advice. She nodded.
"Good," Adam said rubbing his hands together. "Now let us go."
Hermione started to enter the shop. Adam caught her arm.
"Oh no, sweetie, first things first. We simply have to fix those teeth. I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else with those sticking out at me…and I am very used to big teeth, let me tell you," Adam said taking her arm, blowing a kiss at Victor, who caught it, and dragging the reluctant witch down the street.
Her teeth? Good gods, her parents would have a fit if her teeth were magically fixed.
"Your letter to me had me nearly in tears, Hermione," Adam said, using her first name familiarly. Hermione didn't mind. "I know what you're going through. I was fat, gay, in the closet and totally ruled by my mother. She orchestrated nearly everything in my life and always put me down, telling me what was wrong in my life. The thing was, she tried to rule it anyway. It was years before I could make my own decisions. I think I was twenty-eight when I finally told her to back off. Gods, it felt good."
Hermione listened, thinking of her own mother and situation.
Adam's blue eyes turned on her.
"And I know what it's like to be lonely and overlooked too. I wasn't a guy with a great body and looks. I was a chubby little teddy bear, one other wizards used and tossed away. I couldn't find anyone for myself. I tried to suicide twice. I probably would have ended up killing myself if Victor hadn't bit me. Now, life is good…well…my half-life is good. I've never been happier. And I am going to make you happier too. We are just like sisters," the vampire Queen gushed, squeezing Hermione's arm. "And sisters look out for each other. We are going to show the wizard world what they've been missing. And show you how to keep it up."
Hermione really felt hopeful and felt an empathy with the vampire Queen. He really did seem to know how she felt, and his life sort of paralleled hers. Suddenly they stopped in front of a building. Hermione looked up at the sign swinging on a pole overhead.
It read: Al Dente, Denti-wizard at Large
"Let's go in," Adam urged. "Al's waiting for you. I love him. He stays open late night to treat Victor and my minions. He's excellent."
Hermione hesitated, then walked into the office.
It was time for a change.
A/N: Ooh. A little depth, mystery and danger added to the mix. Peter and LV's bubbling blood. Oh yeah. And Adam is a sweetheart. Hermione at the dentist...bless her little heart...and major, major EWWWW for Severus and Sybil. lol. Anyway, please review.